#and I was the only other person around to whom he could share his Favorite Author love. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

doremimosasol · 9 months ago

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𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ☆

warnings: suggestive? honestly not really, nothing much tbh

word count: 3,6 k

summary: you being the only good chess player (you thought), could it be that you found a shared interest with Tom Riddle?

@thatdammchickennugget ‘s Hogmarch challenge prompt 3

Tom loved wizarding chess, it was the thing that he was best in. Yet he hasn't found anyone yet who was enough of a challenge for him to compete with. He wasn't just good, he was just absolutely phenomenal at chess. He gave up on finding a match for himself, playing against nothingness, preparing moves for god knows whom.

That was until he saw you, you were practicing in the courtyard. Your feet were pulled under your legs, sitting cross-legged while focused on your game. There was a slight frown on your face, lost in concentration to beat the air. There was a way to enchant an opponent, but for the best, those weren't even good enough to win. It was boring not having a partner to play with, but it was the best you've got right now.

He leaned against a pillar close to you and observed your game. You were good, but were you good enough to beat him? He knew it was sort of an advantage, watching you play for a while before he'd ask you to play against him. But no one said Tom was a fair guy, he'd do anything to win. He'd never recover from a loss in wizarding chess, the game he was supposed to be best at. The game that was supposed to be his talent to always win in.

But you seemed good too. You knew great opening moves, you checkmated the fake opponent in 5 moves sometimes. You knew a lot, things he didn't even know others knew about. Moves he thought only he knew about. Even openings he thought he came up with himself. It seemed as if you knew the game through at through, he had never met anyone like you. You were different, fascinating, yet so different than the rest.

It was extremely enchanting to watch you play, to watch you win every single time. You, you were the person he'd been looking for, for months now, for years even.

Wizarding chess didn't start for him when he started attending Hogwarts. He didn't even know it was a thing before. He found a way to enchant the pieces himself back when he lived in the orphanage, the great wizard he was back then already. He crafted stuff he found around the home into pieces to use during his games.

He endlessly played, going again and again. It was his favorite thing to do, besides cursing other students at the orphanage. It wasn't on purpose, his anger sometimes just got the best of him. Before he knew it some of his classmates fell down the stairs. Was it his fault? No, because he didn't know how to control it. Did he enjoy it though? Probably yes.

He watched you sigh as you won another game once again, seemingly bored by the lack of competition. That's when you started talking, his heart almost dropped. "You know, you can also play with me instead of watching me from a distance. I can see you're studying the way I play, don't you think that's a bit unfair?"

He almost looked shocked. You couldn't have possibly seen him standing there? You didn't even look up once to be able to notice him, yet you did. "To answer your question, you aren't subtle." That's when you looked up at him, and that's when he first saw your face clearly.

You were beautiful to him, the only thing that bothered him was the yellow tie you were wearing. A Hufflepuff? That couldn't be possible, right? To him, there was no possibility of intelligence in any other house than Slytherin. Someone needs to tell this man that his house isn't superior. It caught him slightly off guard before he decided to speak up.

"Play with me." He got straight to the point. He saw you as a challenge and he wanted to test you, see if he could beat you. Of course, he could, he was sure of it. Always so goddamn sure of himself.

You laughed at the way he was so insistent. "Fine." You got up and made the board disappear with a flick of your wand. "Tomorrow evening in the great hall." You smiled softly and walked off into the castle.

He was intrigued. He often saw you walking in the hallway, you had a lot of friends. It seemed like people adored you. He always connected having a lot of friends with being unintelligent but now he was rethinking those prejudices. He even was thinking of giving you the first chance to become friends with him. He'd view it as an honor, getting to be friends with him. God, he was so full of himself. He should feel honored himself to be friends with you. Everyone wanted to be friends with you.

The next day, you sat in the great hall, setting up the pieces as you waited for him. The hall was dimly lit by the floating candles hanging over the tables.

When he came in, he noticed you sitting at the Hufflepuff table. It didn't feel right to him to not sit by the Slytherin table but he put his pride aside and decided not to annoy you by asking to switch places. But he was thinking about it the whole evening, hoping no one would walk in on it. Every other Slytherin could care less, they sat at other tables all the time.

He sat down in front of you and you immediately lifted your head to look him in the eyes, a small smile forming when you noticed him. Why were you always smiling? It was so weird to him, you didn't even have a reason to smile. But you never needed one.

"Are you ready for me to beat your ass?" You raised your brows and he scoffed mockingly.

"I bet you've mistaken me with someone else because I never lose." He had such a competitive glint in his eyes, you've never seen anyone this serious about chess.

You chuckled at his confidence. Oh how disappointed he'll be, poor Tom. "We'll see..."

You were white, which allowed you to make the first move. It wasn't always an advantage but you were always white, it had never been different. Good thing Tom always played black. It was like both of you were made to play against each other.

"Pawn to e4." And the game was on.

It took you probably less than 20 minutes to checkmate him. Easy... He was probably too confident, thinking he could easily win. His confidence played into his disadvantage.

The second game, won after 40 minutes. He was already fuming by now. You saw the determination in his eyes, he couldn't lose again. He must win. At least once.

The fourth time, won again. It was a longer game, it took up to an hour. But you did it once again without any flaws. Oh, but he was so mad by now. His knuckles turned white by the way he was clenching his hands into fists.

"Filthy cheater, we go again!"

Could it be that the Tom Riddle was a sore loser?

"What is it? Can't stand that I'm easily winning? When will you give up Tom?" You were so enjoying getting him all worked up, it was quite the sight.

"I'll play again on one condition. The loser grants the winner a wish this time. What do you say? Are you in?" You extended your hand for him to shake, you loved making deals like this. It's because you always won, and that way always were granted a wish.

"Deal."

"You're going to regret this, y/n." You so wished you could wipe that smirk off of his face. You were going to win.

Oh, but how so wrong you were...

After 50 minutes, of a heavy and hard game, you lost for the first time ever in your entire life. It felt awful, especially since now you had to grant him a wish. You didn’t show it though, too prideful to give him this kind of satisfaction.

"Won. Guess you'll grant me my wish." He raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair, he analyzed your reactions and was satisfied to see an annoyed look on your face.

"What is your wish? Want me to announce to the whole school that you won, because I'll do just that." You were expecting that to be his wish so you already stood up to do it.

"Sit back down, it's something different."

Something different? What exactly could he want from you to do?

"Go on a date with me. Tomorrow night in the Room of Requirement." He sounded so confident, so determined to take you on that date.

A date?! Why in the world would he want to take you on a date? It almost sounded ridiculous to your ears. You never spoke before now, he didn't even know you. Why in the hell would he ever want to take you on a date?

"A date? Like… you and me?" He must have seen the confusion on your face, it was as obvious as the red color painting your face. You were blushing, unwillingly, but oh you were blushing hard.

"Well, I mean unless you have another definition for a date. Yes, you and me, tomorrow night. You can't say no, we made a deal."

And so you got yourself a date with Tom Riddle, you've never ever been on a date before. It'd be nerve-wracking enough with someone you knew well, but you didn't know Tom all too well. You felt like dying from the stress.

Was it even like a serious real date? You didn't even know what to wear, you lay out almost your whole closet on your bed but weren't satisfied with anything.

You even had to get your best friend to your room to help you out. Eventually, she chose a short black dress for you, it wasn't too short, classy and elegant even.

While you were almost eating your nails, you didn't know Tom was freaking out himself. Unlike you, Tom didn't have anyone to get advice from. It was all by himself, and not being experienced in these kinds of things, he was nervous. You wouldn't expect the calmth himself to be nervous, but he was quite literally freaking out.

He prepared everything since noon, he wanted it to be perfect. But also he started to think if it was too much? Or was it too little? The evening couldn't come soon enough or he'd have walked around the Room of Requirement twenty times.

You've never been to the Room of Requirement before, you've heard of it though. It'd show up when you most needed it but you didn't even feel like you needed anything at the moment. You just hoped it'd miraculously show up as you were walking through the corridors. That's when you heard a strange sound, it made you look up at the wall next to you. A large door appeared, guess this was it.

When you entered the room you were immediately greeted by the smell of freshly made food and a faint smell of roses. It's a smell you've always loved.

"Y/n, you came." He was wearing an all-black suit. God, he looked hot. Why haven't you noticed that yet about him? You were stunned, nailed to the ground. Your eyes on him that way put a smirk on his face, you were too easy.

It was different than you imagined, the way people described the room. It was often described as a large place with piles of stuff and goods but this place was clean not all too big and almost felt like a place to live. It was an open room with a book nook, a bedroom, a kitchen, a fireplace with a large couch, and a dinner table in the middle of it. It seemed to match his personality quite well.

Large iron snakes decorated the walls and the roof was painted with constellations. The room was mostly green, but not an unpleasant kind of green, a warm cozy green. It was pretty and the more you looked around, the better view you got of his personality. It's as if this room was painted to show what he was like.

It was obvious he loved silver. All the decorations were silver: the small snake details, the cutlery, and even the rings he was wearing. That's when you noticed his hands. Even during chess, you didn't pay them much mind but now you did...

His fingers wore several silver rings, some fingers covered by more than one. It was surprisingly attractive in a way, you almost felt wrong for staring at him that way but you couldn't help it.

He decided not to say anything about it but just let it slide. It'd be something he could tease you about later this evening, he just needed to find the right opportunity.

"You look beautiful." His eyes roamed your body like it was a piece of art, a piece of art he wished only he'd be able to admire. It wasn’t a creepy kind of look, you felt pretty under his gaze. He suddenly felt this weird feeling of possessiveness, something weird.

"Thank you, you look handsome yourself." That smile that painted your face again, was something he'd never get enough of. Something he wanted to get to see every day and together with that red blush on your cheeks. He felt powerful to make you feel so flustered. You weren't flustered quite often, however, he was someone who finally succeeded in doing so.

"Sit down, I'll bring the food."

The table was covered in red roses, thorns still attached. It was beautiful honestly, simple but stunning. The cutlery was engraved with roses too and a snake circling it. It was obvious that he was proud of his family history.

During dinner, you both talked about yourselves, explaining how you acquired the talent in chess. It was something your grandfather had taught you. He took care of you quite often while your parents were at work.

"They were great aurors, but not so great parents. I can't blame them honestly, I know they have a duty. I just sometimes wished they spent a bit more time with me. But it's honestly fine, my grandfather was a great man."

He always wished to have that kind of bond with a family member, it's something that always had been absent in his life. A void he so desperately wished to fill.

You motioned to the roses on the table. "They're pretty, but the school grounds don't grow roses... Where did you get them?"

He gives you that mischievous smile. "It's my secret."

It was a nice evening, the food was good and he was so much nicer than you expected. He was like a totally different person than when he was losing in chess.

A week passed and you hadn't heard from him since. You didn't dare to speak to him, scared he might not want to talk to you. Guess this was it, it was a nice evening but probably only a one-time thing. Maybe this is what he did with all the girls, getting a taste of their personality and going on to the next. You didn't view him like that at all but your view on guys wasn't all too great, so what else were you supposed to think?

It was until one night when you entered your dorm, a rose lay in front of your door. The thorns were removed and a small envelope was attached to it. You entered your room and sat down on your bed to open it.

"Meet me at the front gate just before dawn. - TR ps. check the envelope"

Check the envelope? It didn't feel like there was something else in there but decided to check...

A ring.

A silver ring, one of the rings he was wearing last week. It was the one that stood out the most, a green emerald covering the middle. It was a thick ring but it was so magnificent, you were drawn by the beauty of it. It must've cost such a great fortune. Why would he gift you this?

Just when you were about to put the envelope away, something else fell out: a thin silver chain. Did he want you to wear it as a necklace?

You decided to attach it to the thin chain and put it around your neck before getting ready to leave for the front gate. You didn't see the need to get all dressed up like last time, just something to keep yourself warm in this cold weather.

Approaching the large gate, he was already standing there. He was leaning against it, his eyes searching for something... "Come here." He motioned for you to come closer. There was something else in his eyes today, something mysterious but not scary. Just mysterious.

He traced your jaw and moved his fingers down your neck until he felt the cold touch of jewelry. He took it from underneath your shirt and lay it over your sweater. "Don't hide it, wear it with pride."

Without letting you answer he entered the courtyard, expecting you to follow him. "To answer your question..." You didn't even ask one, however, you'd like to know why he gave it to you.

He entered the school grounds, pausing his words before continuing. "I thought you would've liked it more around your neck than around my fingers. But I bet you didn't really mind staring at them, did you?" He caught you.

He looked at you with a smirk, enjoying seeing you flustered once again. "I wanted to show you something, I just needed to find the right day. Tonight seemed perfect."

He stopped for you to catch up with him and once you did, he took your hand in his. "You seem nervous, princess?" The cold of his rings touching your hand caught you off guard before deciding to answer. "Maybe I am."

"You shouldn't be." It was all he said before he stopped in front of a large rock, casting a spell on it before it revealed a large meadow.

"I know you're surprised, but we have to get in fast before it closes again." Once you both stepped inside, you noticed the meadow was covered by a bed of red roses.

This must be the place where he got all the roses... He moved behind you, his chest pressing against your back before he moved his hand around your neck to the front. He slowly moved it up to your chin, making you look up to the sky. "Look up, y/n."

Above you were the same constellations painted on the roof in his Room of Requirement. It was an exact copy of this place here, he made it exactly alike.

His fingers now moved back to your neck, taking the hair in front with him to give him access to your neck. You sensed him moving his lips closer to your ear, slightly touching the shell with his lips. "Do you like it? You're the first person to know."

Your breath caught in your throat once his lips touched your neck, he slowly moved lower. "Mhmm?" That's when he stuck out his tongue slightly to get a taste of your neck. "Answer me, y/n."

"Yes, I do... I do like it."

"Mhmm, good." He slowly started sucking on your neck, biting it every few seconds before turning you around to make you face him. His hand moved to the piece of hair covering your face, moving it behind your ear.

You couldn't help but take a glance at his lips, he was being extremely tempting right now. A sudden urge pulled you closer to him, you wanted to be closer to him. His gaze averted to your lips too, both of you almost touching now but not quite yet.

"Kiss me."

And that's exactly what you did, there was no shame in your actions, you weren't ashamed of how you were truly feeling. It felt right and natural...

He pushed his fingers through your hair and grabbed it softly, earning a soft moan from you as a result. Exactly what he wanted. He wasted no time to push his tongue inside your mouth, exploring it like it were a map. He needed to have tasted every part, twice to remember it.

The kiss became more intense as you both pressed against each other. Your bodies were pressed up against each other so tightly it was as if you were one entity. Your kisses were filled with heat, each kiss made his heart skip a beat. Your lips were so soft and your kisses were so passionate. It was almost as if your lips were made to please each other.

His hand moved away slightly to take his wand and with a flick, all roses grown in the ground immediately got rid of their thorns. Without a warning he picked you up and lay you down with him, his body on top of yours.

He pulled away to admire the sight of you lying on the bed of roses, your hair was spread all over the ground and he almost couldn't contain himself. He moved closer to whisper in your ear once again. "This is quite the sight but I’d much rather enjoy it without clothes..."

#hogmarch challenge #hogmarch #harry potter #fiction #slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #christian coulson #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tomriddle x reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle oneshot

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bookfanatic06 · 13 days ago

Text

I haven’t written anything in over a decade, but this head canon just won’t go away. I’ve often wondered if the idea of “like calls to like” will be prevalent in Elriel’s book like in all the others. I really feel like Elain is hiding some deep shit that just can’t be ignored. This piece is really what I think could happen if Elain deep down shares Azriel’s penchant for self loathing and low self esteem. She gets so much crap from the fandom for being boring, I really see her surprising us with some darker personality traits.

Also, my favorite thing about this other than the Elriel fluff is Nesta. I wanted to see her and Elain making up after the events of ACOSF on page. I didn’t hate Nesta, just thought she treated my baby El poorly.

I’m not sure if I’ll write more to this, or if it’s going to stay a one shot. I’m also not sure if I’m ready to post to AO3. I’m a mom with 3 kids and a full time teaching gig. I’m not sure I have it in me.

So here is my first shot at writing Elriel.

Unworthy

Words: 5112

Angst/Romance

Pairings: Major: Elain Archeron/Azriel,

Minor: Feyre/Rhysand, Cassian/Nesta, Varian/Amren

———————

Remember who you are, Kingslayer.

She breathes to herself as she stares at her reflection in the mirror, plastering on the smile she knows her family would never second guess. Perfected so much over the years in her mother’s keep, as she was taught to never reveal her true emotions, to never let anyone see the heartbreak, the pain of unworthiness embedded in her very soul.

The dreams plaguing her at the moment, the ones that increase with the unyielding torrent of emotions swirling in her mind, are of her family having lost their use of her. That she has become a burden that they can cast aside so needlessly. So she sits at the mirror and contemplates how to be helpful. She’ll practice those new recipes that she received from that fae female at the market. She’ll make the gardens of Velaris so beautiful, people will ask for her. She’ll care for Nyx when his parents need a break.

But still, she feels the hole in her chest and wonders if it’ll be enough. Will she forever be cast aside or passed over in favor of her sisters because of their far more important accomplishments?

What exactly has she accomplished?

I killed the King of Hybern. She whispers so that only the shadows can hear. Not Nesta, as all of Prythian seemed to believe. She knows she pushed that knife into his throat, she still dreams about it; still feels the hilt of the blade in her hands. Even the shadows, the ones that she felt the comforting presence of for so long, have gone quiet since solstice.

She knows that her sisters are magnificent. That they both have earned their right to voice their opinions and be cherished in this world. Feyre, the High Lady that the Night Court deserves, and Nesta, the warrior she was always meant to be. But Elain, she carries the weight of unworthiness everywhere she goes. She wasn’t born to lead, she wasn’t born to be a warrior. She was born with a gentle heart, with a delicate resolve. But a will of iron.

You shoved that knife into his neck. You aren’t as gentle as you believe yourself to be.

She’s intimately familiar with self loathing by now. It curls around her like the vines that wrap around the fortress of her mind. But that voice, the voice that is hers, but much more confidently so, tries to remind her of what she has to offer. Her heart breaks as the self loathing pushes through whispers, “He doesn’t want someone who is brittle and weak. He wants someone courageous, someone with fire in their heart, someone like…”

Mor.

Despite the months that have passed since she found herself alone in the foyer in the early morning hours of Winter Solstice, she is still tortured by the thought that even her dearest friend, or whom she believed him to be, had been repulsed by her meritless existence. The pain of that night has yet to ebb, and she wonders if, at some point in her immortal life, it ever will.

She huffs a breath and stands from her vanity, moving to open the door and walk into the hallway, that gentle but false smile she’s perfected on her face.

As she reaches the kitchen, she is surprised to find Feyre, eyes clouded with sleep, hair poking out of the halfhearted braid she probably threw together before bed the previous night, holding a bottle to Nyx’s whimpering mouth.

“I think he’s starting to teethe. He’s been like this all night.” Feyre’s eyes flicker to Elain quickly before resting on her son’s mouth as it attaches to the bottle and then detaches with a small wail. Elain opens her arms, a silent request to take over – and make herself useful.

“I’ll take him, you go get some sleep.” She says gently, taking the babe into her arms. Feyre gives her a tired smile.

“Rhys and I are so lucky to have you here with us, El.”

Elain’s false smile returns to her features, and before she can give herself away, she shoos her sister out of the kitchen to take over as Nyx’s caregiver. She cradles her nephew to her, his chest to her own, rubbing circles on his back, between his little wings as she’s watched her sister and Rhys do time and time again. For a moment, the hole in her heart fills with the love she has for the babe in her arms. It doesn’t escape her, that if her life hadn’t so explicitly changed thanks to the betrayal that left her at the mercy of The Cauldron, she would probably have a babe of her very own by now. THAT thought doesn’t hurt as much as she thinks it should.

Because a child with Grayson would have been a monumental mistake.

The thought is gone as fast as it had come. That’s one part of her life that she is resolute in. Being Grayson’s wife, the mother to his brood, would NOT have been a step up from her current existence. She’s not sure how she knows that, perhaps from watching how Feyre and Nesta are treated by their mates. The unmatched adoration, the passion between the mates that she can sense from the couples as she plays the fifth wheel.

Why don’t I feel that way towards my own?

It’s not lost on her that she covets the bond her sisters have with their mates; what it must feel like knowing that your mate would give their very lives for your happiness. Her and her mate can barely be in the same room as each other, the bond an uncomfortable tether pulling at her rib.

She had once asked how it felt for her sisters, to see if the bond was true…

“It’s a blossoming warmth in my chest. The pull to Rhys is oftentimes so strong that I can't imagine my life before him.” Feyre had told her.

Her and her mate definitely could not relate.

But that warmth, she could have sworn she felt it before. When three fae males had walked into her home in the humanlands, and she had chanced a glance into the hazel eyes of the fae male with sapphire gems on his leathers. His gaze had caused her breath to catch, and every once in a while, when the war was over and she would be in his presence again, she would find herself looking into those eyes and she could almost feel the ghost of that warmth in her chest. Her breath would catch every time.

That hole was deep and chilled now.

The circles she’s been rubbing on her nephew’s back have quieted his little whimpers and he’s quiet on her chest as she moves to the window overlooking the gardens she’s cared for all these months. The gardens bloom in the vibrant colors of late spring. In her angst, she just wishes that the loveliness of the flowers she’s cultivated filled that hole in her chest that she so achingly wants to forget. An ache that, for the moment, her nephew in her arms has dulled significantly.

“Little one, you hold my heart in your hands.” She whispers as she kisses the thick black hair on his tiny head. At two months old, Nyx is the splitting image of his father, with Feyre’s temper to boot.

She sways back and forth, Nyx a solid presence, a weight holding her down to this earth. She almost misses the sound of the front door opening, but turns just in time to see the eyes of the male who still so captivated her thoughts.

No words are exchanged but he sends her a quick nod of acknowledgement as her own eyes quickly return to her nephew’s sleeping form. Her heart thundering in her empty chest. Before she can return her gaze to where the male stood, he is gone. Leaving her alone with that chasm in-between her ribs. The feeling of unworthiness crawling back into her thoughts.

He’s too good for me anyway.

She walks silently to the nursery, opting to place Nyx in his crib to attempt to get some breakfast prepared. She leaves the door slightly ajar, in case he awakens while she is cooking in the kitchen. Her fae hearing attuned to his little cries.

In the kitchen, she washes her hands and pulls out what is necessary for a quick meal. Bacon, eggs, some leftover scones from the pantry that she can reheat for her family to enjoy. She’s startled when Rhys and his companion walk briskly down the hall and through the foyer to the front door. Their voices quiet but unmistakable.

“All I need is 24 hours of rest and then I can head back down into the tunnels.” his deep tenor voice feels like a balm to her aching chest.

“Take the week, you look like you haven’t slept in months.” A pause and a sigh.

“I can always count on you for a confidence boost, Rhys.” She can feel the small smile gracing his lips as he speaks with his brother.

“I’m serious, Az. You’re no good to us if you’re dead on your feet. Take the week. Clean yourself up, eat a few hot meals, and sleep.” She wonders if this pause after Rhys speaks is meant to last as long as it does in her mind.

“Okay.” It’s breathless, and she can feel the exhaustion behind every syllable.

“Come to the kitchen. I’m sure Elain is whipping up something for breakfast. It’ll do you well to get something into your stomach.” She bites her lip at the invitation. He hasn’t had a meal in her presence in months, since before Nyx’s arrival, possibly not since Winter Solstice, but she’s unable to remember.

Elain straightens her spine, contemplating whether she should look in the pantry for some potatoes to add to her small spread. Her thoughts are interrupted by his forlorn response.

“I should really get back to the House of Wind, Nesta and Cassian are waiting for me.” An obvious lie and she feels like the remnants of her heart have turned liquid and puddled on the floor.

“Ask the House to make you something nice.” Rhys’ voice takes on a worried tone.

“I will.”

She holds back the tears threatening to spill as she hears his boots take him to the door and then outside. The heartbreak is still as tangible as it was months ago.

If Rhys notices the silver in her eyes when he strides into the kitchen, he doesn’t mention it. Just kisses her sweetly on the cheek and smiles,

“Good morning, Dear Sister.”

—————-

It’s a few nights later, while her family, sans Mor and Amren, sits at the dinner table eating the roast and potatoes she and the twins had been slow cooking over the course of the day, that Nesta looks at the empty chair across the table and says with worry gracing her normally icy gaze, “when are you going to start ordering Azriel to attend family dinners?”

Cassian places a hand on her knee as if to say NOT NOW.

She shrugs him off. Giving him that icy stare that’s become her calling card, “He’s a shell of himself. Even more closed off and broody than ever. He crawls around those tunnels and pokes his head out for a day or two and then heads right back in. The bags under his eyes are darker than yours” she points at Rhys. “And he doesn’t have a newborn to account for it.”

Elain sits up at that, heart sputtering as if she can feel him. As if she can feel the darkness pulling him under.

Maybe she can.

“I’m worried. Cassian is too; he’s just too stubborn to admit it. Az is working himself to death.” Elain puts a hand to her chest, as if that hand could hold her heart into place.

“Az is working very hard to get the answers we need about the Daglan and protect all of us, Nesta.” Feyre states gently, holding Nesta’s gaze as they narrow.

“But he shouldn’t HAVE to. We could rotate duties. We can go down there for a few days and let him rest.”

“This is what he wants, Nesta. He’s volunteered.” Rhys’ response is like an ash arrow to her gut.

“And why would he volunteer to do this assignment and be away from his family for so long if he was genuinely happy, Rhysand?” The room falls silent and the remnants of the meal she’s so thoughtfully made is ash on her tongue.

He’s not happy. That word, once vocalized, is hard for her to break from her thoughts. Azriel is unhappy.

It's her fault.

She grips the fork in her hand so tight the metal bends. It’s her fault because she read his intentions wrong on solstice. He is avoiding their family because she made things so awkward between them that he can’t bear to be in the same room as her. Nesta glances at her direction as if she can sense that feeling of worthlessness creeping into Elain’s body. Before Nesta can say anything, Cassian places his hand in hers.

“You’re right, Nes. We need to find out what’s going on with Az. I’ll ask Mor to visit him and get him to work through it. If anyone can get through to him, it’s Mor.”

And there was that feeling again. The feeling of a heart shattering, her lungs struggling to expand as her friends begin to plan for the intervention of the male who she so loved, even if he wanted nothing to do with her.

———————

Azriel was many things, within the last year or so, he’d resolved to adding foolish to his attributes. Foolish for thinking that he could be loved for the male he was, foolish for thinking he had any right to the happiness he saw in the faces of his brothers, and foolish to think that he could be hers.

It plagued him daily, the pull to a female that belonged to another. That he was not deemed worthy by the Cauldron of the female that held his heart, but that one of the sons of Autumn was.

She belongs to no one but herself. His shadows, his only companions, whisper.

It was a small mercy that she seemed as uninterested in her mate as her mate is with her. That she was once so willing to spend time with him despite being mated to someone else. That she was once happy to be his friend.

And now, they were nothing.

That thought buried deep inside of him, burrowed into his bones and tore through his limbs.

So he cut himself out of her world. He threw himself into his work. He trudged through the tunnels under the Night Court and pretended that he was keeping his family safe from the Daglan, when in reality, he was avoiding them.

It was another grueling pass through the tunnels. His eyes slowly adjusting from the change in light when he stepped out of the dark and into the quiet grasses surrounding the opening to the tunnels that have become his tomb. He had promised to wait a week to return to his work, but the ache in his chest had him packed and ready to continue his mission only 3 days after his last excursion. After a week of fighting through the tunnels, sliding Truthteller through the folds of the various beasts that inhabited the chasms below, his exhaustion was threatening to take his knees out from under him.

So he gathered what little strength he had left, and flew himself to the House of Wind.

And it was a mistake.

Nesta stood in the middle of the training pit, arms crossed. The rest of the priestesses were long gone by the early-afternoon. Precisely why he had chosen this time to fly back to the house, a feeble attempt to hide from everyone. He landed with a little less grace than intended, and as he took a glance at Nesta, he could have sworn that the silver flames that had been given back to The Cauldron to save her sister were still present in her eyes as she stared back at him disapprovingly.

“So you’re volunteering for these tunnel missions, huh?”

Azriel sighed. He learned long ago that arguing with Nesta was futile, that she would never let him go without a word.

“My schedule is open.” He shrugged absently.

“The hels it is, Az!” She bellowed, looking him up and down for a sign of…what exactly?

“Are you hurt?” She asked, this time with a gentleness not many would associate with the accomplished warrior, Lady Death.

“I’m fine.”

She continued to observe him, not completely believing he was all well and good. She noted his tired eyes, his rigid shoulders.

“What’s going on, Az? You’re like a ghost, never staying long enough to rest. Barely managing to function. This is so unlike you—-“ it pained him to interrupt, but the unworthiness creeped into his chest at her care for him.

“—this is me, Nes. It’s been me for 540 years. You’ve only glimpsed a small part of my life. I’ve always been like this.”

“That’s not true and you know it.” She says through her teeth, the frustration evident in her voice, in her posture. Azriel bows his head in a movement meant to placate the female before him. She sighs, and with a voice far calmer than she’s treated him with thus far speaks.

“She’s a ghost, too.”

He knows who she’s talking about immediately. And he dares not let her know that he’s affected by those words. He swallows the lump in his throat and moves to go around her. She stops him with her palm to his chest, right where his heart should be.

“I don’t know what’s happened between you two, but I know that the last time I’ve seen her smile, her real smile, was when you were the one to put it on her face.” The hole in his chest is infinitely bigger as Nesta moves her hand and places it gently on his arm.

“Be present, Az. We love you. She—loves you.”

Az is sure that Nesta means he is loved in a friendly way, but the idea of being loved by Elain Archeron makes his heart beat a little faster in his chest. He nods his head, words failing him.

“Everyone is coming here for dinner tonight.” Nesta states firmly. “Get cleaned up and meet us in the dining room at 5.” She shuffles past him to reach the door to the house and smiles mischievously at him behind her.

There’s no hiding from them now. Nesta will hunt him down until he appears. So he plans to arrive for dinner even as his brain tells him to run.

——————

Elain stares at her sister as she repeats the itinerary for the day, eyes wide as she questions Feyre over the plan to “meet Nesta and Cassian at the House for dinner.”

Elain is confused. Never has Nesta invited them to the House for dinner. Tea, on occasion. Training, frequently. Never dinner.

“What’s the occasion?” She asks, trying not to let her nerves show.

“She just misses us.” Feyre smiles, and although Elain is suspicious, she gives her little sister a genuine smile.

“Sounds delightful.”

And if her nerves intensify as her sister’s mate puts her down gently on the balcony of the House of Wind a few hours later, she doesn’t let it show, because she can absolutely scent the one person she is anxious to see the most.

Azriel is here.

And it takes all of her mother’s etiquette training to hold her head up high and enter the dining room to see his gorgeous, but somber face. A face she’s conflicted to commit to memory. He looks so tired, she muses. And despite the ache in her chest, the unworthiness that her mind flashes into her skull, seeing him is like breathing air after drowning, and she can’t look away.

Dinner commences and for the first time in months, the smile on her face is real. Everyone she loves is at the table, Mor and Feyre chatting animatedly with each other. Amren, Rhys, and Varian are lost in their own conversation about the Summer Court. Elain chances a look at the glorious Shadowsinger across from her. He’s impressive as usual, but she notes that his shadows are moving lithe around him, as if they are also exhausted from his travels. His eyes meet hers, and that warmth in her chest that only he can provide blossoms under his gaze. And she smiles, for real, and she thinks she sees the corner of his own mouth move up slightly.

It’s only when the meal is done and the House takes the dishes away that Rhys and Feyre take Nyx home to bed. Amren and Varian go back to Amren’s apartment, and Azriel excuses himself to finally get some rest. The rest of the family moves to the sitting room to continue to chat and Elain sits with them, appearing to listen to their conversation, but barely hearing what is being said. Her thoughts are helplessly on the male asleep somewhere in this house.

“Elain, would you like to stay here tonight?” Nesta asks with a beautiful smile on her face that captures Elain’s attention. She points a finger at her mate and says, “It’s easier for this old man to fly in the daytime. His eyesight is going poorly, and Mor is too drunk to take herself home, let alone you.” Nesta nods her head towards the beautiful blonde already falling asleep on the sofa across from her. Cassian scoffs.

“539 is NOT old.” He crows indignantly. The sisters erupt into laughter but Elain can’t help but think that her sister is only asking for her to stay because it’ll make things easier, and not because she wants her there. As the others begin to move towards their bedrooms, Nesta stops Elain with a gentle hand on her arm.

“I know I haven’t been the kind of sister you deserve, Elain. I want to make that up to you. I want to have breakfast with you tomorrow. I want to sit and talk to you about your life. I want to show you that I’m trying, that I’m here for you.” Elain’s chest expands with hope and a love she can only have for Nesta.

“I would like that very much.” She smiles. And Nesta offers to show her her bedroom for the night. The two walk arm in arm as they move through the house until they come upon the door of a room at the far end of the hallway. The room she’s given is warm and inviting, with a giant bed covered in lilac sheets. There’s a fireplace in the corner that is not in use due to the late spring warmth, but the double doors opening to the balcony overlooking Velaris is the crowning feature. She bids Nesta goodnight, with a promise to meet in the dining room for breakfast, and immediately heads for the balcony after Nesta shuts the bedroom door behind her.

What Elain doesn’t expect, is to end up sharing a balcony with the Shadowsinger himself.

And it appears he’s just as surprised as she is.

“H—hi” she breathes. Taking in his tall form in the shadows of the night. He’s seated on the edge of the balcony’s railing, one leg hanging over the edge while the knee of his other leg is bent for balance on the railing. His glorious wings are tight against his back, the bottoms on either side of the balcony. His hazel eyes, the ones that torment her in her dreams, are wide.

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know you— or anyone, would be here—on the balcony, I mean.” She stammers as she looks down at her feet in embarrassment. He’s still quiet in front of her, and she curses the fact that the Cauldron didn’t boil her alive when it had the chance.

“I—I’ll just go…” she says and begins to move. She’s vaguely aware of him sitting up straighter than before.

“No, please— don’t.” His deep voice is a whisper that her fae ears only hear because she’s desperate to hear his voice again. She wouldn’t miss his first words to her in months for anything in this world. She swallows, unsure of how to proceed. Any courage she might have deep within her, sputtering.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He says louder, with conviction, and that hole in her chest feels the fullest it’s been in months.

“I don’t want to leave, either.” She says confidently. Her courage soars with the vibrancy of his words.

“I miss you.” He adds gently, finally meeting her gaze, and she’s at a loss. This male who has captivated her body and spirit for years now. Whom she thought was angry with her. Who walked away from her on solstice and didn’t look back.

“Then why?” She whispers back, a silver tear escaping and trailing down her pale cheek. The question is open ended, but he knows what she means.

“Because I am unworthy of you.” He admits. The self loathing in his voice matches her own every time she thinks about him.

“Of course you are. If anything, I am unworthy of you.”

“Never.” He replies instantly, but she waves him off. Moving to his side, eyes peering at his form under the stars, tears falling down both cheeks now.

“You are kind, Azriel. You are gentle, and you are courageous. You’ve fought on the battlefield, and you protect the people of this court, of this family. I bake bread, watch Nyx, and plant seeds in the garden. You deserve so much more than I can offer you.”

The air between them crackles with the intensity of his gaze. He moves, and before she can loose a breath, his scarred hands are wiping the tears from her skin.

“How can you not see how incredible you are, Elain?” He speaks softly, rubbing his fingers back and forth over her cheeks. “You put the needs of others in front of your own. You bake bread, watch Nyx, and build gardens to bring comfort and beauty to those around you. In a world of war and bloodshed, you are reminder that there are things out there so beautiful it’s worth fighting for.” She gasps at the depth of his stare. “You are everything I could ever hope for, but I can’t have you.” The words he’s spoken break something within her. Her hands land on his own on her cheeks, and she uses them to push his away, to push him away. Confusion gracing her features.

“And why can’t you have me? Why have you shut me out all of these months?”

He thinks carefully at how to respond. It’s in his best interest to lie, the rage in her beautiful brown eyes cuts him further than any blade and he pauses for a moment.

Rhys will mist him for revealing the truth. He’s disobeying his order right now, just being alone with the female that possesses his heart and soul. But he finds that lying to her is impossible. That he would rather be misted than lie to the female before him.

“Because I have been ordered to stay away from you.” He says with deep remorse.

The earth ceases to rotate for Elain. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. She stares in horror and Azriel wonders if he’s made a grave mistake.

“Rhys?” She whispers. He nods.

“But—why?” The devastation in her voice is palpable, and he wants nothing more than to fly to the river house, despite his exhaustion, and hit his brother in his pretty face.

“You have a mate, Elain.” She scoffs. Ready to deny such a thing. He weighs his words carefully before he continues. “Our—involvement could have severe consequences for the Night Court.”

“What consequences?” She asks, in an eerily calm voice that he doesn’t recognize. He takes a deep breath and prepares himself for her ire.

“The Autumn Court has an archaic tradition that allows for a mate to call for a blood duel against any male that threatens his mating bond. Lucien or Beron have the right to challenge me to that blood duel if you and I—“

Elain looks up into his eyes, horrified at the realization that this is what is keeping them apart.

“—but I would fight for you. Rhys knows it. And I would win, because there would be no chance in this lifetime that I would give up a life with you if I had the choice. But if I were to kill Lucien in a blood duel—“ he pauses. “Beron can enact revenge by calling for war against the Night Court.”

She’s quiet for a long time. Her chest, that was finally full only recently, is hollowed out and bleeding down to her toes. Rhys has deemed them unworthy of each other. Have deemed them unworthy of his protection. Unworthy of the Night Court’s protection. She steps forward, so that her breath mixes with his. He’s stunned for a moment, peering down into her face, determination and understanding amongst the many emotions crossing her features.

“I would rather have you in secret, than not at all.” She says so quietly that only the two of them can hear and places her hand on his chest where his heart beats against it. He’s dumbfounded for a moment.

She’s choosing him?

“Are you sure?” He whispers just as quietly, so that only her and the Mother can hear him.

“Yes.”

The word is barely out of her mouth when his lips meet hers in a kiss that stops the world around them. It’s soft and gentle, just like they are, but Elain swears that this feeling in her chest, at finally tasting the male of her dreams, is the same one her sisters have so lovingly described about their mates.

How can this not be it? They both muse to themselves.

His lips move slowly against her own, savoring her taste, committing it to memory. She has chosen him. She is willing to risk war and their family’s loyalty for him. He will never understand why, but he’s too far gone to talk her out of it.

They stay on the balcony until the early morning hours, touching, tasting, and chasing away the demon of unworthiness inside of each other. Because even if their family or the Night Court didn’t need them, they found out that night that they needed each other.

Fin (or is it?)

#elriel #elain kingslayer #elain archeron #elain x azriel #pro elriel #pro elain #like calls to like #acotar #azriel

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koushuwu · 1 year ago

Text

» 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢’𝐦 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 (𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱) *:･ﾟ✧

» 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: hinata shoyo x reader | 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4,2k | hq masterlist

» 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: hinata shoyo both lives and loves freely, and he ain’t ashamed. neither is he opposed to sharing some of that loving with a fan, when said fan so clearly finds him cute.

» 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 (𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬): afab!reader, multiple writing styles, alcohol consumption, smut, one night stand, feet (a little bit), slight body worship, nipple play, spit, fingering, consensual sex, no editing we die like neji. lmk if i missed something.

» 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @tyga-lily (i hope that it's okay to tag you in this, since shoyo is your mans.)

MSBY!shoyo who has always had a very lively personality, having more than once been referred to as a “sunshine boy”. by many a different person, mind you. so of course it’s only natural that he’d be one to very much enjoy the party scene with his fellow black jackals.

MSBY!shoyo who finds himself the life of the party, with his drawing personality, his carefree demeanor, his quick radiant smiles and his fiery passion. with bokuto by his side especially, it was hard to believe anyone could not enjoy themselves. that is, of course, unless they were sakusa, who’d generally rather be home than on a night out, no matter the company. especially at atsumu’s favorite club of all places.

MSBY!shoyo who’s sending the bartender a bright smile, when he sat a drink down in front of him. “from the young lady over there.”

MSBY!shoyo who had had this happen before, but the bubbling joy never seized to erupt every single time, and he couldn’t help turning that bright contagious smile towards you across the club. his smile widening when you look away, bashful, before meeting his gaze with a fire that matched his own passion to a t.

MSBY!shoyo who got pulled back to the present by bokuto’s chiding “oh, she’s cute.” the electrifying moment crackling but never breaking, as shoyo turned to his friend and teammate with a grin as big as bokuto’s spread across his face. bokuto’s grin rivaling that of shoyo’s in contagiousness. again; unless you’re sakusa, who’d still rather be home, watching on in distaste.

MSBY!shoyo who glanced down at the cocktail in front of him, then looking back up at you. only now you were nowhere to be seen. he scanned the crowd for a glimpse of you, but between the many partygoers, he didn’t stand a chance, instead taking a sip of the vibrant cocktail in front of him. it was good. really good. and somehow that made him yearn for you to return to his line of sight.

MSBY!shoyo who found you later on the dancefloor. the bass was thumping and as he moved towards his table, and there you were. right in front of him, dancing with your friend. or he thought it was your friend. stopping in his track, he watched you spin around. and that’s when your eyes met his. for one split second, you seemed surprised to see him, but then you smiled.

MSBY!shoyo who feels entranced by the smile you sent him. by the glimmer in your eye and by the energy that surrounded you like an aura. who couldn’t help but feel a sense of wonder at the draw you exuded toward him. the draw, that pulled him in, like other people had told him over the years he did to them.

MSBY!shoyo whose eyes followed your movements as you danced. who followed the move of your hands as one found his, and pulled him close. “hinata shoyo, right?”

MSBY!shoyo who knew you were a fan, the moment you said his name, but didn’t even care when you looked at him like that. who’d been with a fan on more than one occasion. it was all the same to him. a nights fun was a nights fun, no matter with whom, to him. but even so, he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t something magnetic about you. something a little out of the ordinary, compared to the rest. but no one asked, so he didn’t tell. at least, not yet.

MSBY!shoyo who couldn’t help but smile even bigger as you pulled him closer. as he pulled you closer in turn, and as you moved with him. as he moved with you.

MSBY!shoyo who despite lacking in some aspects as a kid found his rhythm fast. since going pro and since joining the black jackals. and especially since meeting atsumu and bokuto again, had learned that he, as atsumu phrased it, had moves. he knew how to move and he knew how to guide you as he did.

MSBY!shoyo who’d become so accustomed to the move of his own body on the dancefloor that he’d expected himself not to get flustered when your hand trailed over his skin. but he did. his heart may have stuttered and his movements faltered for a single moment in time. but then the next beat of the music boomed from the speakers and he’d already found his footing once more.

MSBY!shoyo who knew it was coming, but still felt heat clouding his features when your fingers traced the nape of his neck, testing the waters as you slit them further up, burying your fingers in his beautiful red hair. whose eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time as you moved together.

MSBY!shoyo whose eyes fluttered shut when you pushed up to your toes, lips gracing his softly. he felt it in every fiber. every single cell of his being when you kissed him. when he kissed you back. who felt the entire world fall away as he let himself get lost in the moment. in the closeness and in the taste of your lips. who chased after your lips when you pulled back, that contagious smile still lingering. who opened his eyes to watch you just as you opened your mouth to speak. “i got you my favorite,” you told him. “i wanted to see what it’d taste like on your tongue.” he smiled at that and asked “and? was it to your liking?” your laugh sounded above the music, like a calling to him that he’d never known he longed for. “hmm. hard to tell.” you smiled, pulling him back in by the collar. “might need to have another taste, just to be sure.”

MSBY!shoyo who brought you with him home to his hotel that night, knowing that the tabloids would blow it up, given the chance, but he didn’t mind. shoyo lived his life and he wasn’t ashamed. not one bit and he never would be. he lived and he loved. and he did it freely. especially with someone as cute as you. so he took you to his back home to his hotel.

MSBY!shoyo who spent the entire ride back lively and brightly. not once allowing the mood to turn awkward. not once letting a single uncomfortable silence settle. not that he particularly tried to fill the silence. it was just natural to him. second nature and hadn’t it been what gravitated you towards him? who was delighted to find, that you filled up half of the space and the silence yourself, perfectly bouncing off his energy with your own. it was stunning really, and shoyo found himself drawn to you, just as well as you had been him.

MSBY!shoyo who could still taste you pleasantly lingering on the tip of his tongue as you stepped into the elevator by his side, grateful to have found the streets empty outside his hotel. who let his fingers trace the back of your hands, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips as you turned your hand and interlocked your fingers with his.

MSBY!shoyo who led the way out of the elevator. down the hall. briefly stopping before the door to his room before letting the both of you inside. the room that he thankfully had to himself. could you imagine? sharing a room with sakusa would have given the poor guy a heart attack if he’d known what was about to go down in that very room. truthfully, it probably would anyway, even if it wasn’t his room. but alas. the room was hinata’s alone and he was not about to pass that opportunity by.

MSBY!shoyo who was eager in many a setting, but for once didn’t feel any rush. no better way to get with someone, than allowing the both of you to enjoy the experience. allowing you to indulge. to have fun and take your time. that was his philosophy at least, when it came to sex. especially with one night stands. to kick things back and just enjoy. no rush. no hurry. so he led you inside, guiding you to the bed and gently setting you on the edge and dropped to his knees. not that he was about to propose, but those heels looked awfully painful.

MSBY!shoyo who lifted one of your feet from the floor and undid the strap, sliding it off. and then the other, fingers gliding over your skin in relaxed confidence. something he’d learned over the years that now came to him like second nature.

MSBY!shoyo who couldn’t read your mind, but definitely noticed the way you admired him on the floor in front of you. who couldn’t read the thoughts on him, that went through your head. he was cute. he had energy. he had stamina. he was fun. he was passionate. he was eager. he had this air around him. confidence. that’s what you saw when you looked at him. and it was sexy. painstakingly so. all these things, something that shoyo didn’t know. but he saw the glimmer in your eye, and who was he to let you wait?

MSBY!shoyo who lifted your bare foot higher in the air, and planted a kiss at your ankle, relishing in the little visible shudder coursing through you. cute. he did it again. and again. each kiss edging just a little further up, tasting the skin of your calf.

“hina—“

“shoyo,” he said. “call me shoyo.” he looked up at you from the floor. a playful glimmer in his eye and a joyful smile at his lips.

“shoyo,” you repeated in agreement. tasting his name as if you hadn’t already put the name in your mouth numerous times before. but never like this though. never with him. always, always, always in conversation with friends. family. fans. but this? this was different.

MSBY!shoyo who relished in the sound of his name spilling from you lips. he smiled. chuckled. he looked up at you, anticipation reflected in your eyes as they followed his every move. every single one of his movements as he moved up further, kissing the side of your knee before licking a stripe up your inner thigh. the fact that you were wearing a dress, no tights, was like a gift bestowed on him as he tasted your skin. your hand shoved into his soft fiery locks as your breathing hitched when he blew his warm breath across the saliva on your leg.

MSBY!shoyo who, despite being eager and energetic, took the time stop and make sure you actually wanted this. who asked you more than once if you were sure. if you were okay with anything he did. because you may have wanted him when you left the club with him, but that didn’t mean you still did. shoyo was a free spirit and a respectful one at that. so he asked. and once he’d got you splayed out on his hotel bed, clothes discarded on the floor, he asked you again. but this time, he asked you something different.

“What do you want me to do?” his breath against your skin sent a shiver through your body as goosebumps rose across your flesh. this time not a ‘are you sure?’, ‘do you still want this?’ or a ‘are you feeling okay?’ but simply a request for you to indulge him. to play with him.

“touch me,” you told him, the alcohol in your system stripping you of any embarrassment sober you might’ve felt by speaking your mind like this. but tipsy you? tipsy you wanted his hands on your body and tipsy you weren’t afraid to say so.

“where?” he asked. “if we’re gonna do this, we might as well have a good time, yeah?” it was more of a statement than a question really, because it was simple. of course you might. and that was the thing shoyo really wanted most. to ensure that the both of you were having the best time that you could on this one night together. you were just about to reply when a mischievous glimmer played in his eyes. “here?” he asked, bringing his hands up to cup your tits. you nodded when he pinched one nipple between his fingers. that made his lips split in a big, beautiful, blinding grin. then he dipped and took your other nipple between his lips and suckled.

there was a breathy sound escaping your lips when his teeth graced the sensitive nub, making your back arch off the bed. he did it again, rolling your other nipple between his fingers at the same time.

“shoyo–” you whined, the last note drawing out as his tongue flicked around your nipple. he looked up at you and finally released you, tongue sticking out and a little bit of spit trickling onto your exposed skin. the glimmer in his eyes was captivating. entrancing. the smile on his face was dazzling. drawing. he was looking at you, as if you were quite literally the only woman in the world, and even if he might not be yours to keep, it never felt forced. maybe because to him, at that moment, you were in fact very much the only woman that mattered, and he absolutely made sure that you felt it.

“where?” he asked you again, this time pausing to let you reply. to let you tell him what and where you wanted him to touch. and so you did. you took his hand in yours and guided it down. down. down. down. until his fingers rested against your sex.

“here,” you said and he grinned back at you. drawing indeed.

“oh? this pretty little lady?” he asked, letting his fingers slide between your folds, feeling the slick against them. “happy to oblige,” he said. you sucked in a breath as his digits danced over your clit. he was good. really good. the playful melody of his fingers was lighthearted. fun. good. perfect. something so different to anything you’d ever tried with any one night stand before, and for a moment you couldn’t believe your luck, that he’d taken you home. you. out of all the people he could have pulled from the bar, he’d picked you. a fan of his no less. the next moment you remembered that you had indeed been pretty straightforward with you advantages from the very start. but who could blame you really? the guy was cute as hell. little did you know that shoyo really hadn’t planned on taking anyone home at all. he never did when these sort of things happened. but your straightforward approach had been exactly what captivated him. you’d let him have a glance, but you hadn’t pushed. not until he was right there in front of you again. and at that point, he’d already been looking for you for hours. the trap already snapped closed, even if you’d never truly expected it to play out like that. but it did.

the temperature rose like a crescendo between the two of you. a moan fell from your lips and shoyo smiled. his eyes locked onto your and held your gaze in place. there was something about the way he looked at you right then, that made it feel impossible for you to look away. so you didn’t.

“give me your hand,” he prompted, reaching out. you placed your hand in his, gaze still interlocked with his. fingers slid gingerly over your skin as he let them glide from your hand, up to your wrist, circling it softly. drawing your hand towards him, he opened his mouth, tongue sticking out. his thumb grazed your palm, then pressed lightly. you straightened your fingers at his silent command. you couldn’t help but feel drawn in by him as he put your fingers to his mouth, tongue sliding in between them. around them. pulling them in. he was mesmerizing. even more so than you’d ever imagined, watching him play or participate in interviews. like he was a completely different league.

as much as you probably could have tried to keep your voice back, you didn’t. you mewled. you keened. and he hadn’t even entered you yet. he hadn’t entered you yet. he should– he bit down gently on your knuckles, and you whined as you felt yourself tightening around nothing. he should–

“shoyo–” you whined. again. but you didn’t care. because you were here and he was here and you were together and that’s what mattered. “inside, too. please,” you pleaded. and he smiled, removing your fingers from his mouth.

“okay,” he agreed. he didn’t press inside. instead he shifted in the bed, placing himself on his knees between your legs. and that’s when your eyes grew wide, because with your hand pressed to the mattress, his fingers caressed your skin. from your wrist, down the inside of your forearm, making you shudder. then, down the side of your ribs, over your hip and then to your thigh. he pushed it down. out. and then he did something you hadn’t expected him to. gaze still trained on yours, he let a dribble of spit fall from his lips. the cold, wet sensation sent a pleasurable ripple through your body. from your very core and through every little inch, ebbing out as it reached your fingertips. goosebumps broke out across your skin, amplified only by the way he looked at you. and looked at you. you looked back. captivated. as if you couldn’t truly look away. lacing his fingers between yours on one hand, the other found your pussy again, tracing through the slick of his own spit and your arousal.

“last chance to back out,” he said when one finger pressed against your entrance. it was soft. imødekommende. understanding. but you just shook your head. you wanted him, and he clearly wanted you.

“not gonna happen,” you told him, tone equally soft. a little teasing. he grinned. he did that a lot, you noted. and then he pressed inside.

shoyo was as giver. he enjoyed the playful thrill of pleasuring his partner. of giving, and giving, and giving. making his partner feel good. happy. it was a feeling like no other. and that was exactly the feeling he reveled in, that very moment, as he worked you open. as he stretched your pussy, first making room for one more finger, and then as he slowly thrust them into your heat, again and again.

your own grip tightened in his, moan after whine after mewl after whimper spilling into the scorching air around you, mixing in with his labored breathing, in a wondrous, beautiful symphony. rising and falling in perfect harmony, the filthy squelches of his fingers picking up pace, bullying into you, making for the steady bass of the sweet orchestration.

somehow, shoyo knew exactly how to angle his fingers to hit just that perfect spot inside. to go just deep enough. honestly that should not have been legal. and yet somehow he managed it.

the hold around your hand loosened, but only long enough for shoyo to nestle the palm of his own hand against the back of yours, digits once again slipping between yours, and squeezed it lightly. it tingled. you didn’t know why, but it did. every little bit of skin that he touched was buzzing, as if electric. charged. charged like the feeling in the pit of your stomach; rising expectantly. reaching. stretching towards the peak of crescendo, each tone strumming higher and higher in pitch. shoyo curled his fingers, thumb caressing your hand as he continued to pump into you. you hadn’t expected him to make you cum, honestly. not because you thought he’d be bad in bed, but first times and one night stands often left a lot to be desired for you, because you simply didn’t know each others bodies well enough. so you hadn’t expected him to manage it. at the very least not this fast. but you felt the rise, rapidly approaching the climax you hadn’t been prepared for. but when he brushed deep inside you once more, you welcomed it, as it washed over you in a delicious flow of heat. it wasn’t fireworks going off inside. it wasn’t an earth shattering crash of pleasure snapping in your core. it was warm, comforting pleasure rolling through you like the waves lapping at the shore on a quiet summer night, and it was perfect. shoyo smiled at the sound of his name, softly sliding off your tongue like a contented sigh. he held you until the waves of pleasure ebbed out, thinning to a pleasant hum.

“good?” he asked you when he sensed you were back. that you’d come down from your high.

“good,” you confirmed, voice soft and flashed him a lazy grin of your own.

“good,” he said, lifting your hand to his lips. they were soft. softer than any guy’s lips you’d ever felt, as he kissed the palm of your hand. then he kissed it again. “i’m glad,” he said, breath hot as it spread against your wrist before his lips pressed against it. your skin tingled. the sensation sending new heat surging down your spine. spreading and once more made you long for his touch. for more. for him. shoyo seemed to sense the charged atmosphere. the way you looked at him, because he chuckled as he kissed your wrist once more.

“shoyo,” you said, and he looked at you, still standing tall between your thighs.

“hm?”

“instead of my wrist, maybe you could kiss me instead. or better yet, you could fuck–” your words cut off when he pressed leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. he guided your hand into his hair as he kissed you, just as you’d asked. his warm cock bumping against your abdomen as he adjusted over you. the kiss was short and he pulled back, nipping at your lower lip as he did. you chased his lips, but he just grinned at your efforts.

“that’s just want i wanted to hear,” he told you and then kissed you again. and again. and again and again and again. and even through kisses, it didn’t take long before shoyo had successfully slid the rubber in place, tip now excitedly slipping through the wetness of your cunt. “how do you want it?” he asked you, and there was another shiver rippling through you. you never thought you’d get excited by talking in bed, but the the way shoyo did it was– well it was hot. incredibly so. something about the way he considered you, even for a one time fling. the sheer confidence of his bright and attentive aura. it gave you the confidence as well, to be free and to ask of him exactly what you wanted.

“from behind,” you said. “i like it from behind.”

“alright, princess. turn around,” he told you. it wasn’t a command. a simple instruction that you found yourself eager to follow. and so you did, feeling his gaze on you as you did. he was admiring you. every single inch of skin. every curve, crevice and crease as you turned. you were beautiful in every sense of the word to him, honestly. he let you settle into the position that was the most comfortable for you, and didn’t touch you before then. as you rested against the bed, ass raised in silent invitation, he finally did touch you. one single finger traced the curve of your spine, from between your shoulders and all the way down to your tailbone. featherlight and burning hot at the same time. he drew circles across your skin before finally resting his palm against your hip. with the other, he lined himself up with your entrance, and then stopped.

“shoyo. fuck me, please.” you told him, before he had the time to ask if you were sure. if you were ready. if you were comfortable, or anything else along those lines. you’d have to admit that it was insanely hot that he did so, but right now– right now you wanted nothing more than for him to get inside you, and you were not going to waste any more time than absolutely necessary before you got what you wanted. shoyo clearly got the memo, because his hold tightened on your hip and his cock pressed against your cunt, stretching as it pushed inside. slowly. slowly. ever so slowly. but oh so absolutely delicious and despite your impatience to have him sheathed inside of you, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

MSBY!shoyo who never had any second thoughts about having sex with a fan. he lived and he loved freely, and he wasn’t going to let anyone stop him from doing just that, for as long as he was single. and so he chose to love you, that night. to give you everything you wanted. to give you all of him that you wanted.

MSBY!shoyo who’d done this kind of thing more than once. and who’d had a night partner slip him their number before they left more than once as well. but this time. maybe. just maybe, he’d keep it. this time. maybe. just maybe, a one night stand could be allowed to turn into a two nights stand. or maybe. just maybe–

*:･ﾟ✧ thank you for reading ♡

#fanfic #hinata shoyo #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo smut #hinata shoyo x reader smut #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #hq x reader smut #useradrienne #it feels so funny to use your tracked tag on fics because i literally don't tag anyone else so it looks funny #but i'll be damned if i let the chance pass me by to share my writings with you!

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dominadespina · 9 months ago

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THE SINS OF DESPINA HATUN

Since the 14th century, one woman has haunted the history of the Ottoman Empire and the very minds of their historians with her influence over a Sultan who suffered a hummiliating fate.

The only wife of a Sultan who has been the target of curses; Despina Hatun.

The reason for this great hatred of her has to do with the fact that she was influential and remain christian throughout her marriage. She was able to maitain the first and main place in the harem of her husband and to make him like her. A likeness that overtime grew into love and devotion.

Her wishes did not remain mere wishes, and for this reason the muslim associates of Sultan Yildirim Bayezid Han, as well as later Turksih historians resented her. Today most people remember her as “Bayezid’s great love”.

To Ottoman sources she was a fatal woman who lured their Sultan into sin. It can be concluded from that amount of hatred that she was allowed privileges and more power than was allowed for a foreign wife of a Sultan, or an imperial wife in general.

SHE MADE THE SULTAN FALL FOR HER

"As for Yıldırım, let's say that he fell in love with the princess." - Necdet Sakaoğlu. Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları, pg 83

"Throughout his life he was devoted to Despina, and his brother-in-law Stephen in turn was a devoted and steadfast friend." - Herbert Gibbons. The Foundation of the Ottoman Empire

According to Chalkokondyles, when Bayazit's favorite wife, Lazareva [daughter], whom he took everywhere with him into battle, was captured and handed over to Tamerlane, he ordered that wine be served to him there, in front of her husband. The enraged Bayazit told Tamerlane that what he was doing was not worthy of his father and mother. - Две српске султаније : Оливера Лазаревић (1373-1444), Мара Бр��нковић (1418-1487), pg 107

"When the latter's wife, the daughter of Lazar, whom he loved more than any of the others, had been taken away, and Timur was taking her around in the camp with him, he made her pour his wine in front of Bayezid, her husband." - Laonikos Chalkokondyles

"He kept her close – she accompanied him everywhere - he appeared unable to part from her. She was the one person, who influenced him most and was of course blamed by the Ottoman chroniclers for the fall of Beyazid’s empire into the hands of Timur. They considered the young sultan totally captivated by her."- Anna Buxton. The European Sultanas of the Ottoman Empire

It is widely understood that throughout their marriage Despina and Bayezid shared a devoted sentiment-perhaps more on his part-despite the circumstances that brought them together. The couple had similar interests such as politics, wine, partying, European customs, conversations and according to historians found constant erotic pleasure with each other. Though all of these cited interests might just be Ottoman historians attempts to depict this woman as deceitful.

" The sexually robust woman – she satisfies all his desires- but remains a Christian." - Richard Franz Kreutel performs a service to Ottoman polemic.

It is said that for some days, Bayezid remained in Despina's chamber and completely forgot about state affairs.

Olivera (Despina Hatun) is accused by Ottoman historians of using her charms and beauty to lure Bayezid to her. This seems highly untrue as Bayezid's harem is labeled as being filled with "forbidden beauties." He could have set his sight on another with more charm and beauty, and in fact he did, but still remained devoted to Despina.

It seems they use her beauty and political influence only as a means to label her as a Femme Fatale who is cunning, power-hungry and worst even, an infidel. Yet, when we look at foreign sources about the personality of Despina Hatun, she is describe as being gentle and flowery.

SHE WAS ALLOWED POLITICAL INFLUENCE

According to Dr. Zeljko Fajfric in his work "Srpske kraljice i princeze," released in 2007, no sultana before Olivera, who did not convert to Islam, managed to become so influential.

Yet something that is enough to critize him on is that he only puts this influence of hers to be due to her charms and beauty, yet again unintentionally labeling her as a femme fatale.

If beauty was all it took to have political influence, dozens more like her would have succeeded in that aspect, but she remains the only wife of Bayezid who had significant importance on politics.

Either Bayezid often sought after her opinion in matters of state or he took her as an advisor which might be the reason she was often with him, but no, a good scent, a soft spoken voice, long hair or enchanting glances will work, at least not for very long, even for a man prone to pleasure like Bayezi, and as we know Despina's political influence grew more with time than it decline.

A few things that are attributed to her council...

I: She helped accelerate the transfer of Prince Lazar's body back to Serbia.

II: She freed and paid ransoms for enslaved christians with the help of her brother; Stefan.

SHE BROUGHT DEBAUCHERY TO THE OTTOMAN COURT

Despina is often blamed for having introduced wine at the Ottoman court.

This sin that Bayezid's partook in can not be credited to Despina because he was already throwing such feasting assemblies ever since his princehood. Him and Despina married in 1390, he was well too familiar with wine and pleasure prior to their marriage.

Despina, later on, might have organized such festivities for him.

" Wine and kebab assembly was established. The infidel's daughter came and toasted Ali Pasha. The lady said, see the moment." - Aşıkpaşazade.

Still it is highly unlikely that Despina, who comes from a culture where married women do not speak in the presence of men would even partake in such assemblies filled with drunk men.

What is more likely is that she organized her own wine assemblies in the harem, with the presence of other women, but the chances of her doing such a thing as drinking in the presence of men is highly unlikely.

She might have even brought wine and so called debauchery to the once "pious" court of the harem, but as for the men; who take up the majority parties in politics and war, they were already familiar with the beverage.

#Bayezid The Thunderbolt #Olivera Despina Hatun #medieval #middle ages #Ottoman #Lazarevic Dynasty #Ottoman Dynasty #yildirim bayezid #15th century #16th century #Lazarevic dynasty #The Sins of DESPINA HATUN

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gatitties · 2 years ago

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Dye it baby

─ Yandere!bonten x motherly!reader (Platonic)

─ Summary: a special day with your boys, a day of memories and torture

─ Warnings: obsession, metion of bullying, toxic behavior, blood, mention of torture, yandere stuff

Part one / Part two / Part three / Part five

How the first two parts have 1000 likes ??? thank you very much!! 🫶🏻

Lil edit: sorry @boycigs it's been so long i forgot i had to tag you 😭

You never knew how to measure quantities when cooking, because you didn't want to go short, you always ended up adding more ingredients than you should, which led you to make too much food, in this case, little strawberry cupcakes along with some other fruits.

You had time to do it on one of those rare days where you weren't being stifled by the presence of any Bonten executive, having you as their secretary made it easier for them to be accessible to you, but unfortunately they couldn't stop you from interacting with other people, more than anything because they also needed men to do their dirty work, men you seemed to talk to from time to time, which they didn't like.

For you, it was just small interactions, greetings, small talks with the guys who were hanging around, who came from missions or bodyguards who watched every corner in the barracks, nothing really important, you were just being nice like you would to anyone else, although most of them would only nod at your presence or words, they had already been threatened and knew the consequences.

But that didn't stop some clueless from enjoying your presence more than they would like, not to mention the fact that you want to distribute the leftover cupcakes among those men, they'd rather throw away your homemade food before those creeps could taste it, but they couldn't stop you, at least not most of the time.

You wanted to think that the disappearance of some people with whom you spoke or shared that leftover food was not your fault, after all, working with this type of criminal exposed you to many dangers, but you really did not know how far your boys could go for simply smiling at another person.

You put those thoughts aside, clutching the box full of cupcakes tightly, you reached the elevator in the main building, dialing the highest number, you waited patiently, humming the light music on hold, on your way out you simply walked a few more steps and knocked on the door already well known. It opened with a creak, as soon as you entered, being received by an arm hooking onto you in a loose hug, you smiled when you saw Mikey, anxious to see what you had prepared this time, despite not being his favorites, everything you did to he, would be a culinary work.

"By the way, today is dyeing day."

"Hmm? It is?"

You muttered at Rindou's words, noticing now, the boys who already had part of their natural color at the root of their hair, you shrugged smiling at the younger of the Haitani, nodding at his request, earning pitying glances from Kakucho, who was the only one who decided not to alter his original hair.

You approached him, rubbing his shoulders in a comforting way, trying not to let his kicked puppy look affect you, you offered him a smile that was enough to warm his heart, looking for a second at the expressions of his companions to silently boast of being the only one that received all your attention.

"Don't worry Kaku, I'll make sure that my next day off is just for you, we can make that recipe you told me about the other day, or visit some place you want."

The completely bitter and serious expressions of the others turned into small grimaces that were meant to be smiles as you turned to them, letting Takeomi lead the group out while you give a last silent wave to Kakucho, who simply nodded at your action, as soon as you were out of sight a frown on his face.

Kaku really hated 'dyeing days' because he was the only one not included in the bonding time with everyone, but then again he could always take advantage of it, just like now, he always got an extra day with you, and best of all It's just that it was just you and him, so he had your full attention.

Although he had to leave that for later, now, returning with the boys and you, you went out of the building to the crowded streets of Tokyo, everyone staying on the sidelines except Kokonoi, who was the only one who went with you to buy the hair dye, since the group itself would draw a lot of attention and he was the one handling the money, the others reluctantly agreed as he took your hand to guide you to the nearest store.

"Don't you want to dye your hair too?"

"I think not for now, my hair doesn't look so bad right?"

"Of course not! It's perfectly fine."

You laughed at how Koko was quick to make sure your hair was perfectly fine, knowing how delicate people your age could be because of the dreaded gray hair. You both walked out of there after choosing the appropriate colors for everyone, smiling at the packages you were holding in your hand.

It reminded you of your youth, you went through that stage too, you learned how to apply the dye on your own because going to a hairdresser would be a lot of work and much more expensive, although you stopped applying so many dyes to your hair because it started to get drier. When the boys discovered this —snooping through your old photos from your high school days— they asked you to apply the dye.

While everyone got used to being treated by a ridiculously expensive professional hairdresser, nothing could compare to taking advantage of this to spend more time with you, not to mention enjoying the feeling of being pampered by you, giving them a little scalp massage when you applied the dye to them, it was something that even the most experienced or expert hairdresser could not achieve.

"Who should be first?"

You all ended up in your house, because you continued to maintain that house even though the boys told you it wasn't necessary, but you hadn't spent most of your life working to buy this property and now just abandon it so abruptly, no, you weren't going through that, plus it was always like a refuge of your own peace of mind, although in the majority there was always someone who interrupted you on your day off.

You observed that everyone had impatient eyes, watching as you internally debated who should be the first to go through your majestic hands and head caresses, taking one last look at everyone you made up your mind once and for all.

"I guess we can start with Ran, since I'm going to take longer with him, you go after Rin, the rest of you shouldn't take that long so you can choose the order, oh, without any shouting or throwing knives."

You warned before taking the brothers to the bathroom, aware that the last time you told them to choose the order in which you were going to dye them they ended up fighting to see who would be the first to receive your attention. You started working with Ran, massaging his head while applying the dye, it took you half an hour to finish them both as they had two different colors, which complicated the process, luckily the others only had one color to choose from.

You weren't surprised that the next one to enter the bathroom was Mikey, after all he was the boss, and if the brothers had been lucky enough to go before him, it was only because it was your decision and he respected it. You took your time with him, knowing that he enjoyed more than anyone the reassurance that your fingers gave him, running over his skin in a firm but gentle way, it was refreshing for him, the only place where he could let his guard down and relax to the point where he almost falls asleep

The next one was Takeomi, he was the fastest since he only had a small part of his hair, that didn't mean that he didn't feel satisfied by the simple fact of being with you alone. He was followed by an impatient Sanzu, who was always very restless despite being with you, as if he were the rebellious and hyperactive son of the group, then Mochizuki entered and finally Kokonoi.

You sighed once you kicked Koko out of the bathroom, leaving you to relieve yourself while cleaning the dye stains left on your hands, you wet your face to cool off, feeling tired after a long day.

"Guys… can you tell me what the hell are you doing with my school album again? I thought I had hidden it…"

You stared blankly at the group of men who decided to deliberately ignore your words, one of the few times they did, more focused on gossiping about your past as a student.

"Who is it? You have many photos with this person."

Sanzu pointed, you approached to check who was, a smile tugging at your lips upon seeing that person, the boys silently stared at your expression, feeling an internal anger against the stranger despite not knowing anything about that person.

"That was my first couple, although we didn't end up very well."

"Why?"

"Cheated on me with someone else." you immediately noticed how the tension increased in the room, rushing to continue talking "Oh, but we were both very inexperienced, it was the first relationship for both of us and we had many ups and downs."

"Why would you keep the photos of this person? Seems useless."

"Mikey… that's rude, I keep them because it's a memory of my life, although I only keep the good times."

They continued to look at more photos —some embarrassing— and judge the people you had the closest contact with in the past, Takeomi making a mental list of the few names you inadvertently let slip as you remembered between laughs and blushes of embarrassment your adolescent adventures

Although there was someone who annoyed them more than anyone, a girl, an old classmate who decided to mess with you for something quite common in pubescence, pimples and early physical changes, her harassment was only verbal, small teasing so that her group of friends would laugh, luckily nothing physical happened, mostly because one day you decided to stand up to it and set the record straight, since teachers don't do much, you decided that sometimes taking control of the situation wasn't a bad idea.

The girl was embarrassed years later by her attitude towards you and apologized when you met her as an adult, you simply forgave her because she was not and would not be anyone important in your life, there was no point in hating her when you could just forget her.

But the boys did not like this at all, they heard from your own mouth ─because they begged you to tell them the whole story─ that many nights you cried, self-conscious about your appearance, forcing you to do things that were dangerous to your health, both mental and physical, you didn't go to extremes, but without a doubt that year was a bad time that you prefer to bury in the depths of your mind.

Oh boy, Bonten was going to dig up the shit for you to clear your conscience, rather his own under the guise of 'doing it for you', what better way to get over someone than to just wipe them off the face of the Earth? It's a pleasant job for them anyway, especially if they're people who had hurt their mother in some way. You may have taken it as a joke, but the idea of hunting down your former bad classmates, or teachers, were not empty words, it was a promise.

"Hello, Kakucho? Didn't we have an important meeting today?"

"Ah, we can always do without one or two, so don't worry, isn't it better to spend the day with me than listen to us talk for hours about business?"

"I suppose you're right, hearing about your companies is more boring than working as a cashier."

You smiled tightening Kaku's grip on your hand, leading you through a pretty garden full of different flowers, completely oblivious to the reasons why you hadn't been allowed to attend today's meeting. You let go of his hand when he had to take a call, seizing the moment alone you bent down to see a lovely red rose, touching the soft petals of it, going down to the stem just feeling a little prick.

"Ow, it has very sharp spines."

You muttered, a drop of blood falling onto the green grass, staining it slightly red, you immediately felt someone pull your shoulder back, meeting you with a worried look that caused you to laugh.

"Let's get you a doctor."

"Kaku, it's just a cut, some water and a band-aid will suffice."

"Oxygenated water, we don't know if more people have touched that."

"Okay big baby…"

As you spent the afternoon nonchalantly by Kakucho's side, the rest of the boys personally took it upon themselves to give proper torture to that girl who once messed with your appearance, all taking turns slowly draining her blood, letting her life slowly and painfully escaped from her body.

"This teach you not to mess with mom, you stupid bitch."

Sanzu smiled sickly, taking the last turn to finish at once, the others watching in silence, their faces, hands and clothes stained with fresh blood, feelings of pure hatred manifested with blows, stabs, cuts… it was the price to pay for messing with someone she shouldn't, and she had to accept it. Sanzu grabbed the trusty pistol from him, without thinking twice, drowning out the agonized screams that did not stop ringing for four full clock hours, the last drops of blood spattering the walls.

BONUS

"Where have you been? Arriving like this full of blood what the hell?"

Everyone ─except Kaku─ shrank from your angry gaze, ducking their heads like children scolded for doing something wrong, they already knew what they were up against when they arrived at your house completely covered in blood.

"Sorry mom."

They all answered in sync, avoiding your gaze at all costs so as not to feel worse, but they were too eager to see you after having disposed of yet another piece of garbage in the world.

"No 'sorry mom' do you know how difficult it is to get blood stains out of clothes? You're lucky I have my laundry hacks."

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pearlesscentt · 1 year ago

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pancakes for two

haechan x reader, college!au, fluff, 477 words

"i might have a crush on you."

haechan's sudden confession caught you off guard, causing your fork to clank against the plate. you glanced around the bustling diner to make sure you didn't disturb other patrons — most of whom your fellow students who are either restless from school work, or curing a hangover, or both — and to see if anyone else had overheard what he just said. your wide-eyed gaze locked with his, as he returned it with sincerity in his eyes. you could tell he was nervous because of the way he shifted in his seat across from you.

this quaint diner had become your shared haven. a saturday tradition for the both of you which involved an earl grey tea for you and a cup of coffee for him, two stacks of pancakes with maple syrup, and a platter of scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns to share.

for some reason, you still remembered vividly how this tradition came about; it was three years ago, you and haechan were just acquaintances that had a bunch of mutual friends, it had been a long night of drinking punch that tasted suspiciously like gasoline and sprite, and it was even inclusive of the brutal hangover that came after.

three years later, here you were in your regular booth, sitting across from each other like the first morning. you'd only gotten closer with each other over the years and you hadn't stopped coming here since.

"actually, i really do have a crush on you," he repeated, his voice now more resolute and confident. he reached for his coffee, swiftly downing the cup like it was water.

you bit your lip as you tried to come up with a response. "really?" you finally managed, fiddling with the fork on your plate. "because i have a crush on you too." you added with a smile, and both of you burst into fits of giggles.

"we're so cheesy," you remarked between chuckles.

"i know," haechan agreed. the laughter subsided after a moment, but his gaze remained fixed on you. instead of the jitters earlier, he now radiated warmth and beamed at you with a loving smile. "three years of friendship and two years of being together, and i still have the biggest crush on you."

"happy 2nd anniversary, my love," you said. the busy saturday morning chatter in the diner faded into the background as butterflies fluttered inside you — a familiar feeling you had come to know since meeting haechan. in that moment, all you felt was joy and contentment, appreciating the pleasure of sharing your favorite meal with your favorite person. it was a feeling of profound gratitude for the luck, the foul-tasting punch, and the stacks of pancakes that had brought you together.

he reached over across the table to hold your hand. "happy anniversary to us, indeed."

nct masterlist | navigation ── reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated !

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maple-the-awesome · 1 year ago

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Tiny Little Details ||

Pairing: Four x GN Reader

Words: 1,781

Requested by @pinkalmondcake: May I please get some four fluff of that's alright🥹He's just so cute and I was thinking about reader discovering a small minish four when they landed in his world (he wanted to check on the minish) and the reader didn't know he could be so smol and four becomes embarassed seeing he likes the reader (and the reader is a bit taller than him seeing he's a small bean anyway XD) and when they discover they like each other than as the reader somewhat confesses, then they pick him up in their hand and he's blushing and everything. He also gives them a peck on the nose and hugs their cheek while squealing on the inside! (sorry that this is a longish ask!) And I hope it was fine to ask too! ^.^ I love the parts to your crush and your new part for sacrificing ourselves for the chain! ❤️ Four is officially the most adorable Link and that must not be forgotten🥺I mean, where else are you gonna find a better boyfriend than one you can literally just keep in your pocket? Here you go, hun!

Zelda Masterlist 💙 Fandom Masterlist

Minish are rather generous, taking it upon themselves to hide little goodies in the grass for travelers to find like extra hearts or rupees, but they also host the sweetest little tea parties made up of droplets of tea and crumbs of cookies which are perfectly filling for anyone matching their size.

It's a much needed break, Four decided some time ago. Away from the stress of trying to keep Hyrule (and numerous versions of it) safe while also maintaining his own sanity while faced with eight other heroes, a few of whom can be a bit much to deal with at times, as he's learned.

For the most part, they all get along well, likely due to their shared destinies and deeper understandings towards each other's struggles, yet that doesn't mean they all share the same personalities. It isn't constant, although also not rare for some to butt heads here and there, leading to raised tensions as well as the need for fresh air like in Four's current case.

When he huffs a bit too loud, he must reassure his Minish friends that everything's fine, even asking for another drop of tea to fill his miniature cup, however it's difficult not to feel new dismay at the sight of a golden sky above.

Truthfully, Four had cooled down a while ago, already letting his anger towards the other boys roll off his shoulders, but that doesn't mean he wants this peaceful moment to end any quicker. If it were up to him, he'd stay with the Minish longer, trading merry stories about his recent adventures that almost take away from the dark energy looming in the air. Alas, he should probably return soon before anyone begins to worry too much, although as he soon learns, it might be too late for that.

Four was just about to dismiss himself when he heard his name being called. To the smallest beings of the world, it sounds like thunder crashing through the sky as does the crunching of footsteps that almost shake the earth as they get closer, but Minish are used to such disruptions and even Four shows no concern upon recognizing the approaching voice.

"FOUR?! ARE YOU OUT HERE?!" It's you; both a good and bad thing. Good, because out of all his traveling partners, Four must admit that you're his favorite. Your presence arouses a similar sense of calming comfort in him as being around the Minish does, the only difference being the wooziness you curse upon him from your smile alone. Yes, it would be safe to say that Four has become enchanted by your beauty, both inside and out, so he's actually quite happy to hear your voice as you search for him. The problem then? He's still the size of a Minish himself and the only person in the Chain who knows about this ability of his is Twilight, not you.

It's okay. This is fine. He's barely the size of a rupee, hidden amongst a tall forest of flora. To find him on your own, you would have to actively hunt through the flowers and blades of grass which you definitely aren't doing now. Instead, you're scanning the entirety of the field at eye level because you reasonably believe that if your friend is truly out here, you'll be able to easily spot him by doing so, after all, he may be shorter than you, but not as short as to be below your feet (if only you knew).

Four plans to stay silent and wait for you to move along elsewhere which would give him time to turn back without your notice, however he hesitates to commit to that decision once you come into sight, allowing him to officially see just how worried you look. If he didn't know any better, he'd say you appear to be on the verge of tears, growing more frantic by the second.

You can't be blamed for your concern. Four has been gone for a while and isn't usually a Link to wander, not to mention you were told he left in a huff after being on the receiving end of harsh teasing from some of the other boys. No one has heard from him since, so in your mind, you've concluded that he must be really upset - possibly even hurting someplace.

Not that he knows it yet, but you've been searching for him nonstop after finding out what had happened back at camp which is why you're in this field now; it's the last place you can think of as you grow desperate to find him before the sunset fully sets. How terrible would Four have to be to ignore these fears of yours, letting you continue worrying yourself sick when it's within his power to smooth your anxieties instead?

"...Uh, I'm right here," You can be forgiven for doubting you hear anything at all provided how quiet the voice had been and the fact that no matter which direction you turn to, you can’t seem to locate the source until it speaks again in a squeak, "Down here. To your left."

You're understandably shocked to look down and find a miniature version of your friend struggling to climb up a small nearby rock (which must feel like a mountain to him), his presence suddenly very clear as his colorful tunic helps him stand out against the gray, "...F-Four? Wha - How did you get like this? What happened?!"

You could spend all day coming up with explanations for your friend's new appearance, however you'd likely never land on the correct one and it doesn't help that you can barely make out any of his explanation, his voice matching a mere whisper despite how he shouts his words for your attention.

"H-Hold on. I can't hear you," You immediately kneel down in front of the rock, instinctually reaching out towards him yet freezing mid action. He cocks his head to the side, curiously waiting for you to gain enough confidence to pair with your next question, "I...Would it be okay if I pick you up? Or is that rude? I don't know if that’s rude or not or if you -"

Amid your rambling, Four nods, taking a few steps forward which you take as an invite to lower your cupped hands against the rock and allow him to climb on. Once able, you gently lift him to eye level, "Are you okay? Is this...normal for you?"

He nods again this time paired with a shrug as if this whole experience shouldn't be too much of a surprise, then again, the more you think about it, it probably shouldn't be. First Twilight now Four. You really should interrogate all the boys to find out what other crazy secrets and abilities they may be keeping from you (you're already guessing Time has a few up his sleeves).

You sigh upon realizing Four truly does seem okay, nothing about his tiny expression giving away any negative emotions, in fact you can make out an amused smile as he watches everything set in your mind, "...I was starting to freak out there a little when I couldn't find you. Hyrule said you ran off after Warrior was giving you grief about your height earlier. They made it sound like you were pretty upset - which you shouldn't be because who gives a crap if you're the shortest in the group? You're still plenty smarter and Hylia knows more mature than to tease your comrades into running away - but my point is, since you hadn't returned yet on your own I began to think that maybe you weren't coming back at all and -"

"- Thank you for worrying, but I actually wasn't that upset about what Warrior had said," Four cuts you off while setting a hand on your thumb. His touch only has about the same weight as a feather and even tickles a bit, however you force yourself not to focus on that.

"You weren't?"

"No. I was more annoyed than anything since it does get repetitive to have people constantly pointing out my height -" He rolls his eyes at the thought, "- But I don't mind being the shortest. Like you said, I have other strengths, not to mention there's actually a lot of advances to being short."

"This being one of them?" You smirk, wondering what he could've even been up to while so tiny, although that's a question for another day.

“You could say that,” Four shares your laughter, "...I guess it probably is a good thing you're the one who came looking for me, though. If one of the others were to find me like this, I doubt the jokes would ever end."

"Oh, I'm sure. They'd give you hell. You are pretty adorable like this, though."

Four blinks, not certain if he had heard correctly. He might've fully dismissed the comment if not for your own realization at what you had just said, the embarrassment clear upon your bashful expression and hurried excuses, "W-Well, what I meant to say was that...Objectively, small things are considered cute, and you're like the size of a little mouse which is adorable, even though you're always cute, it's especially when you can just fit in the palm of my hand like this - which isn’t the point! But I, umm -"

Once again, Four is kind enough to save you from digging yourself further into a hole, the only difference is he does so without much prior thought, instead blurting the words eagerly himself, after all this might just be the perfect opportunity to get it off his chest, "- I think you're cute, too! You're, uh, always cute, too."

You stare at him without response which may have been a scary thing if not for your wide, delighted grin; something that only confirms Four's previous statement.

"Could you, um...?" He coughs into his fist, looking away from you with a fierce blush, "Bring me a bit closer please?"

It takes you a moment to understand what he means, but once you do, you quickly nod and move your hands closer to your face, thus bringing Four close enough to lean out of your hands ever so carefully so that he may place a barely felt kiss upon your nose.

Startling him a bit, you can't suppress the squeal you give as a reaction, "I'm sorry, but that was sooo adorable!"

He chuckles and although he may not make a sound beside it, don't doubt that he feels the same squealing joy in his chest as you sit back in the grass with him held warmly against your cheek.

"...Shouldn't we get back soon? Won’t the others worry?"

"Let them. It can be their punishment for being jerks earlier."

#legend of zelda #lu four #lu four x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #link x reader #x reader #reader insert

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linka-from-captain-planet · 7 months ago

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I have been in my mind palace, building my pretend Florrick-Ulder Buddy Cop dollhouse and filling it with my favorite things: drama, female background characters and crackships thereof, and elaborate Mad Libs stories cobbled together from vaguely-defined Lore. Also, a special guest star: Helia, the halfling werewolf character scrapped early in development

Brain dump below

as usual, Lore Mistakes are just part of the AU so I'm not worried about it

The first question is of course "when could it have been possible for Florrick and Ulder to Buddy Cop Adventure together?" Placing Ulder at about 55 years old as of 1492, if I wanted him to be about 20 during the adventure (a few years of "adult" life under his belt, but a Fist grunt still, yearning for a role model), that would take me back to 1457.

Florrick's age is less important to nail down, but according to my headcanon placing her around 125 years old in 1492, she'd be around 90 in 1457. I'm still workshopping exactly what I think her life course was in Baldur's Gate - my firm headcanon is that she was born and raised in the Forest of Tethir, and left as a young adult to pursue travel and magical education, but when exactly she ended up in the Gate and what exactly she was up between then and ~1480 is TBD. Regardless, by 1457, she's long since completed a wizardry apprenticeship, and having attained the rank of Flaming Fist Manip, she has young Ulder under her command.

Landing the timing in 1457 is convenient, because upon googling the historical events of Baldur's Gate, I found that there was as significant event around 1450: the attempted coup by Duke Valarken, in which he was supported by a group of lycanthropes in his attempt to overthrow the Council of Four and become sole leader of Baldur's Gate. Following this, the Parliament of Peers was formed and the office of Grand Duke, created. Certainly, the ensuing decade or so was a time of great turmoil as the dust settled - the perfect time for the dynamic duo and a friendship of a lifetime to form.

That timing and event is also convenient, because what other female background character am I in love with, whom I also lightly ship with my beloved Florrick?

Dalyria - according to her journal, once the Physician General to the Parliament. When exactly she was turned and enslaved by Cazador is unknown, but it must have been sometime after 1450 for her title to even exist. Which means she could certainly have "gone missing" in, say, 1457, and, say, leave a lover reeling and desperate for closure...

This setup is great because it gives Florrick and Ulder something to be buddy-cop about: a high-profile missing persons case, with perhaps more of a heart than Florrick wants to share with this kid, and a dynamic formative event for the young Ravengard.

With limited clues to go off of, the streets teeming with the big and little fishes of the city snapping up whatever scraps of power they can find, etc etc etc, obviously Florrick and Ulder would need companions in this quest.

So, who else could have been a) alive and b) active and c) potentially helpful and/or suspicious in Baldur's Gate in 1457?

Obviously Jaheira is always around for whatever bullshit is assailing the city she has, perhaps, only recently settled in permanently to take over an old family home and, perhaps, raise some orphans. Certainly, she'd answer the call to help her old uh *cough* friend Florrick in her time of need. Could the Bhaalists be back at it, aiming to pick off the parliament one by one? Not on Jaheira's watch!! At about 110 years old, Jaheira is also probably in her MILF prime at this point (before ascending to her GILF prime in BG3). Not relevant, just FYI.

On the 'suspicious' front, we have Araj Oblodra, eccentric apothecary of the Lower City. Living in exile since her House was cast into the Clawrift in 1358 (an event she was alive, but not present, for), perhaps Araj is unduly invested in finding the vampire coven physician general, and her alchemical skills as well as proficiency as a rogue are too compelling to pass on, sketchy as she is. I didn't get much farther than that, but she's sexy and I love her, so she gets to be a main character.

In my mind, the ideal "party size" would be 5, so who else? There are a few other options - Volo is certainly around somewhere and definitely not minding his business, Elminster must be lurking as usual, Abdel Adrian probably cares about this, etc - but I just didn't want any more elves or wizards. But wait, did I say lycanthropes were behind the failed coup?

You know who's a werewolf? Helia, the halfling bard orgin/companion scrapped early on in development. Listening to her datamined dialogue, she seems to have been a scrappy, no-nonsense kind of gal and an older lady in 1492, so a young woman in 1457. Pending more research on the context of werewolves/lycanthropes in the Forgotten Realms world, but perhaps she's been wrongly imprisoned since the failed coup. Perhaps, suspecting a second attempt by the same group could be behind the attack on the parliament, she's busted out of prison by a pair of enterprising young Fists, promising a chance to earn her freedom.

This will probably just remain a Concept, so I don't want to get myself bogged down in Plot, but there's really only one conclusion:

In the end, the investigators are thwarted by Cazador Szarr, who is too wealthy and powerful to convince the Parliament and Council to take on. The case of the missing Physician General is closed - ruled a suicide, likely, based on bunk evidence - and a broken-hearted Florrick and disheartened Ulder have no consolation except the friendship they've forged, and a promise to one another:

That, even if it takes half a century, they will work together to see Baldur's Gate to a more just future.

#also a 20 yr old Ulder stuck with all these insane women like 🧍 is so funny to me #work in progress and by work I mean brain concept that will prob not materialize beyond Posts and Drawings #counsellor florrick #ulder ravengard #jaheira #araj oblodra #bg3 helia #dalyria #bg3 #Florrick-Ulder Buddy Cop Thingy #linka's fanart

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ten-shi-fandoms · 2 years ago

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Painting buddies

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CW: Wally Darling x Artist Reader, gender neutral reader, reader and Wally have a pre established relationship (friendship with mutual crushing), minorly romantic, kissing (only on the hand and cheek) first person pov, just tooth rotting fluff

Short like Wally's legs （‐＾▽＾‐）

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Everything was perfect, if you could you would stay like this forever.

The sun high in the sky just slightly hidden by clouds. The birds chirping making soft sounds and songs. The wind blewing through your (h/c) hair and across your face. The soft grass that you sat on mildly damp from morning dew. Even the paint that so easily glided across the canvas you painted on as you sat behind your house in the woods not to far away was perfect.

It was easy to escape like this. No matter how much you loved the others sometimes they were a bit too much. They were loud, bright souls whom you loved deeply but sometimes the quiet just felt better. The others often tried their best to accommodate to you by trying their hardness not to be too loud or do too much and it always made you so happy. Though you needed some quiet and space which was why you sat out to paint. You had always loved painting, it helped calm you down and relax. The pretty colors, the ideas that filled your head, even the snell of paint all relaxed you, this time was no different. A small smile graced your lips as you heard the soft sound of the grass behind you start to move.

"How kind of you to join me." you called out to the figure behind you who was holding his easle along with a few brushes and canvas in his small arms obviously having a bit of difficulty but saying nothing about it. "I thought you might like some company, after all painting with someone else can offer new inspiration." Wally's soft voice rang through your ears as he made his way to you, sitting his things beside yours and getting his stuff organized. You noticed he brought no paints most likely opting to use yours instead which you didn't mind, you two had shared a paint pallette more than once so this made little difference. A small giggle left you at his statement your hand never once moving from the painting you started. "I guess so." with that there was comfortable silence aside from Wally settling in and the occasional movement of dipping paint brushes in paints or moving into better positions.

After a while Wally begun to hum, the sound easily cutting the silence filling it with a gentle sound. You recognized the song as one called "Beautiful Dreamer" a song Barnaby had taught you both albeit only the first verse. (E/c) eyes travelled from painting over to Wally who held a relaxed smile while he dragged his brush elegantly along his canvas. Turning your attention back to your own piece of art you begun to hum along with him, the sound of each of you humming mixing to make a gentle melody that laced the air around the two of you.

It seemed as if time moved slower when you were with Wally. The silence wasn't awkward or weird, it was comforting. The silence occasionally being cut with hums, small talk, and the occasional joke. It was nice, the entire atmosphere felt light and it made you happy knowing you had someone to share such a relaxing moment with. Soon enough the sun was beginning to set, the amber light from the sun glazing everything in a beautiful color. Luckly you were already finished with your painting and by the way Wally placed his brush aside it seemed he was finished aswell.

"How about we show each other what we painted on the count of three?" your suggested when you noticed Wally playing with the edge of his canvas as if he didn't wish to show his alone. With a curt nod you started to count. The moment you hit three you both turned your painting around to the other. Your painting contained (favorite thing) in (your art style). The contents of the painting making Wally smile. He had a feeling you would paint that, it was just like you too do something like that. As relaxed eyes stared at your painting, (e/c) eyes stared at the painting in front of you.

The painting had Home in the center with some of your friends but the thing that took you a bit by surprise was the main focus of the piece. Aside from that the base of the painting which was bright and colorful, your eyes were immediately drawn to the dark colors that laced the piece. There were black and red spirals along the piece, it was like Wally didn't like what he had painted and decided to change it last minute. You could feel Wally's eyes on you obviously excepting a comment on the painting he created. Closing your eyes you smiled warmly, a sight that made Wally's eyes widen and dilate.

"I think it's really cool!" you said, your voice happy and truthful making Wally's heart melt at the sweetness in the tone. Opening your eyes you saw Wally's wide eyed stare, the sight a bit creepy but ultimately looking rather cat like to you. Before you could speak Wally grabbed your hand placing a gentle kiss against the back of it then one against your cheek. As you stared at him shocked, confused and flustered he smiled at you with the same warmth you smiled at him with, causing warmth to spread across your cheeks and nose. "I'm glad you like it." his voice was warm, and soothing almost like it was coated in honey. "It's getting late, let's go back to Home and get some rest." he offered, his hand squeezing your firmly as you nodded happy to go along with him.

"That's fine by me." with a few more soft words exchanged you both gathering your things, you even grabbed some of Wally's stuff to help him out despite his protest. You both walked side by side, chatting away about what you should do once you got to Home. You were so caught up in the conversation that you missed the sets of eyes that followed you both as you made your way out of the woods, however Wally didn't but he said nothing deciding it was best to let the others have their moment while you both had yours. After all he could just confront Barnaby about it later.

Bonus:

"I knew it! See I told you Frank, Wally and (Y/N) are in love!" Julie's voice rang through the now empty woods. The male in question sighing, his hand covering his face as his bright eyed friend gushed about seeing how Wally treated you. "Julie it wasn't that hard to figure out. I mean really, do you see the way Wally looks at them?" Frank responded straightforwardly. It wasn't hard for anyone to see how Wally favorited you over the rest so it was easy to tell that their short friend might had been developing a crush on you.

"Calm down Frank, atleast now we know the feeling is mutual between them two." Barnaby butted in placing a hand on Frank's shoulder as he thought back to the sweet conversations you and Wally had shared. Eddie nodded along to Barnaby's words, his own hand reaching and cupping Frank's. "I agree with Barnaby, its good to know." Frank couldn't help but sigh and relax a bit as he looked at the path you and Wally took to leave the woods. A small smile pushed it's way onto his face no matter how hard he tried to hide it. "I guess your right." his voice low as he spoke, in a way he was happy for you more than anyone else. He understood your struggles when it came to noise and how energetic and outgoing everyone else was so seeing you enjoying yourself in your natural state made him happy even if it was with Wally of all people. "I guess your right."

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 2 years ago

Note

I've been wondering... how would Poseidon react if he saw Apollo flirting with his (gn)s/o? (Taking into account that Poseidon and reader have yet to publicly reveal that they are together)

-It was technically your fault, well both yours and Poseidon’s fault, as you weren’t public about your relationship with one another. Nobody, other than Hades and Aphrodite, knew that the two of you were dating and had been dating for a long time.

-However, you were both almost always seen together, so many chose not to approach, mainly as many were afraid of Poseidon, finding him too intimidating to approach.

-But that’s why he liked you, you weren’t afraid of him, you treated him like a friend, and Poseidon didn’t have anyone like that, and you found that under his stoic mask, he was reserved, smart, and had a warm heart, it was just closed off and took time to get to.

-You were like a wrecking ball, you busted into his life, or so he says, like a ray of sunshine, lighting up his world and warming his heart and now he couldn’t think of a life without you by his side.

-However, since you were private about your relationship, nobody knew, which meant that there were men who would try to approach you and a few women who would get brave enough to approach Poseidon, but usually you both could handle yourselves.

-That is…until the day you met Apollo, he was very forward with you, getting into your personal space and unlike others whom you could get to leave you alone, he was very persistent and wasn’t taking no for an answer!

-When you were late to your date with Poseidon, just meeting at your favorite café for a break, he came looking for you, and finding you with Apollo of all people.

-Poseidon was instantly annoyed, seeing that you were looking uncomfortable, but angry, as Apollo wasn’t backing off, even though you were past the point of being nice, telling him to back off, but to Apollo, he saw it as you being shy and just needed a bit more of a push.

-Poseidon’s hand clapped down on your shoulder and you turned your head and instantly relaxed, “Oh thank cupcakes you’re here!” you instantly stepped behind your lover who faced Apollo, the sun god looking a bit confused, “Poseidon, why are you here? Do you know Y/N?”

-Poseidon didn’t care that you all were in public, as he glared, “I do, she’s my lover.”

-Jaws dropped all around and your bright smile that he finally admitted it, seemed to light up everything around you as you hugged him from behind.

-Apollo was stunned, hearing that you were with Poseidon, before he quickly rebounded, “Are you up to having a third part-” Poseidon shoved his hand into Apollo’s face, silencing him, “Not happening!”

-Apollo whined, following after Poseidon, trying to beg him into letting him join in with you and Poseidon; your lover turned with a dark, menacing look in his eyes, one that only said pain before he spoke, “I don’t share.”

-Your cheeks turned a bit red at his declaration as Apollo was gawking open mouthed, stunned by Poseidon’s bold statement before he took your hand, leading you away, no longer willing to go to the café.

-He was taking you home so he could hold you and pout, as he was annoyed, but you were happy to cuddle with him, leaving Apollo out in the cold.

-You were happy that you didn’t have to be quiet about it in public anymore. You could finally hold his hand when out and about with him. Life was good.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror poseidon #ror apollo

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jakeyt · 1 year ago

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Bloodstream: Chapter 1

By: @jakeyt + (my lovely sis) @joshym

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader, f!OC x m!OC

Bloodstream Summary:

Folklore. Stories passed down through generations. Imaginations run rampant with their tales of sorcery and the supernatural.

But for Tommie, it was different. Somehow it was more. She had become transfixed by a local legend — one that told of an unlawful love affair between a witch and a vampire. To Tommie, it was an alluring tapestry woven with threads of forbidden love and timeless secrets. Yet something about it felt strangely familiar to her—but why?

It was only a story…wasn’t it?

Word Count: 10.8k+

Warnings: witchcraft; vampirism; death; mentions of bodily harm; grief; mentions of lgbtq+ oppression (it's the 70's, people were assholes); Vampire!Jake; lots of eventual smut (minors DNI !! 18+ only !!)

⋆⁺₊⋆☾*ੈ☁︎🃁𓉸︎☽⋆⁺₊⋆

a/n: this baby has been brewing for a good while now. . . it all came to us after walking around an abandoned cemetery near our hometown.

truly, @joshym and i have worked tirelessly on the chapters, the (massive) plot, and the general outline of the story. so, after sitting on it for a bit, we decided its finally the perfect time to share it - during the spookiest month of the year. . . october!!

this chapter is more of an opening to the story than anything. . . there is so much to come, and this chapter barely even begins to scratch the surface ;)

enjoy, loves!!

⋆⁺₊⋆☾*ੈ☁︎🃁𓉸︎☽⋆⁺₊⋆｡˚☽˚ 𓃠 ˚☾˚｡⋆⁺₊⋆☾*ੈ☁︎🃁𓉸︎☽⋆⁺₊⋆

Chapter 1:

Harvard University

Cambridge, MA

PRESENT DAY

Friday, October 27th, 2045

｡˚☽˚ 𓃠 ˚☾˚｡

The wind whistled in dreary tones around her head as she hurriedly trekked down the bustling halls of campus.

It was finally fall break on campus. And she was beyond ready for the much-anticipated break from the grueling work that came with being a college student at an extremely prestigious university.

Even though it was only her first semester at Harvard University, the work had come incomparable to the work she knew was normal for your average college student. Her friends, whom she’d just parted from a few months ago, who were going to typical universities, weren’t feeling the torment she was feeling in this season of life.

There were certainly a few redeeming qualities of going to school at Harvard, though.

The initial reason she’d decided to come here had been to live with her Granny M, who already lived right there in Cambridge, as she attended school. It had already been what dreams were made of. . . being that her Granny M was her favorite person on the entire earth.

The second redeeming quality had been the boy she’d met during orientation, who she had instantly clicked with. The wonderfully down to earth, charismatic, and completely handsome Andrew Burnett. Andrew was a tall man, Irish as they come, with the warmest, most kind eyes she’d ever witnessed in real life. He was everything a woman could want in a man, and she had been smitten right off the bat. And, luckily, it seemed he had been, too. For they’d spent hours getting to know each other during the week of orientation, and had started dating the first week of classes. He was truly impeccable.

The third (and most) attractive part of being in Cambridge was being away from the stifling environment of her home in Plymouth. Her parents were the opposite of her in every way. They had been pros at squashing every curiosity she could possibly have, as well as dampening her individuality.

Her father had come from a strong religious background, bringing it into the home. . .

making her mother follow his lead in making sure the home never had anything suspicious come through.

And, of course, she regularly challenged that.

With her clothing choices (black, black, and more black), makeup (always donning a particularly murky shade on her lips), and music (only ever music with deep themes and broody singers; Amy Lee, having been her biggest icon for years).

Then, the candle’s small light had become a blazing flame, when at thirteen years old, she had become completely and utterly transfixed by all things witchcraft and wizardry. It had occurred seemingly overnight. The heartiest addition to things outside of her parents’ perfectly crafted and regulated norm, one could say.

It had come when she’d first witnessed Harry Potter at a slumber party in middle school. She’d been hooked right off the bat. Though, it wasn’t even Harry Potter that’d transfixed her—or any of the characters in that universe, for that matter.

No, it had gone further—deeper.

The lore of witchcraft and studying the lifestyles of witches had become everything to her. So, from that point on, she’d wanted to constantly research the logistics and legend of it all. . .though, unfortunately, her parents would have none of it.

And while her Granny M had never exactly encouraged it, she didn’t stop her from reading and spending countless hours at the library when she’d visit her in the summers growing up. The one rule her grandmother did have was to avoid delving into any local legend.

Granny M always said it was “too risky.” And when she would ever question her Gran, she’d simply respond with, “That’s all I’ll say, love. Please, just avoid it, my sweet T.”

So, she did avoid it. She would respect that one wish of her grandmother’s if it meant she could freely read to understand every aspect of it all.

But, here on this cloudy, windy day, nearing All Hallows’ Eve, something was about to change.

She’d practically skated to the front desk of Harvard’s library, asking for the latest additions to her favorite section.

And little did she know: the fascination—the strange obsession—would become more than what it had always been. It would almost eat her alive in curiosity, enchantment, and imagination.

She had gone to the same section as always, plucking the most recent addition.

When she’d gotten to the counter again, new book in tow, she’d scrounged around in her messenger bag for her student ID to check out the book. . .but hadn’t had any luck in locating it.

“Looking for your ID?” The student worker had asked with a sympathetic tone.

She huffed, still searching through the mess to no avail. She blew her inky bangs out of her eyes, looking up with an apology plastered on her slim features. “Yeah,” she said, closing her bag and wrapping the strap around her shoulder once more. “I’m sorry; I’m a mess. I can’t seem to find it and I have no clue where in the hell it could be. Can I still check that out without it?”

The student looked apprehensive, letting out a slow breath through his pursed lips. “Name?”

“Thomasina Lowe,” Tommie said, her voice raising an octave in hopes that being positive may help her case.

“Shit,” the student worker gasped. “You’ve got five books out right now, and almost all of them are overdue.” He shook his head, pushing his black-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Nope. There is no way I can let you check this out and still have a good conscience.”

Tommie’s chest pinched with irritation at the condescending way she was being spoken to. “Seriously? I can’t be the only student on this campus with late books.”

“No,” he said, as if talking to a child. “But you also don’t have your ID. Double whammy for you, Thomasina.”

Tommie’s blood pressure rose up to her ears. And just as she was about to interject again, she heard the wind harshly swoop the door closed behind a student. She and the worker both looked towards the doors, shocked at the sudden rush of wind. And to her relief, it was Andrew. He was covering his head with his book bag, sheltering him and his damp shoulders.

Tommie glanced behind him at the doors he’d come through, seeing there were now raindrops falling steadily from the sky that was dry just moments ago. And as if on cue, the accompanying sound of thunder clapped and echoed throughout the old building.

He made eye contact with Tommie almost immediately, his smile reassuring and sweet. Chances were, he had already deduced she was in trouble, as Tommie’s face rarely hid emotion well.

And as soon as he’d arrived next to her, he was taking both thumbs and softly smoothing her eyebrows back down to normal. Tommie felt her own grin perk her lips the slightest bit.

But, of course, keeping with his wonderfully sunshine-y personality was the student worker, who hastily broke up the moment with a chastising tone and the shove of the book towards Tommie and Andrew. “Please find the ID and the other books and come back another day.”

Tommie’s nostrils flared as she looked at the book. But just as soon, she felt Andrew’s hand on her back, rubbing circles.

Towering over her, he spoke to the worker, who had to look up a healthy distance to make eye contact. “I’ll check it out,” he said, his voice, ever-calm and cool, thick with his charming Irish intonation. He slipped his ID from the wallet in his back pocket, sliding it across the counter to the student worker.

The worker seemed hesitant, but Andrew raised a brow, and nodded his head toward the book. There was no way the worker could deny him, so within seconds, Tommie was walking over to the couches in the coffee area that sat at the back of the library, Andrew’s long legs keeping in line with her fast pace.

And, when he was back from the counter with two warm coffee cups, he sat them down on the table. Then, taking the seat in the armchair opposite Tommie, he curiously asked, “What’s this book about?”

She was only staring at the back of the book, having just completely read the summary. Her shock was obviously apparent on her face, because when her boyfriend spoke again, he sounded concerned. “Love? You alright?”

Tommie blinked several times, then placed the book down on the table between them. She pushed it to him swiftly, and with a raised brow, he read the back of it as well.

“Local legend,” he remarked, his interest peaking. “How interest—. Oh.”

“Yeah,” she replied, looking down at her coffee, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic to bring a sense of comfort. The nerves were wracking her. “One of the most famous. This is the third book I’ve come across this semester that’s had to do with it. It’s fucking tempting me, but I have to respect Gran’s rule. Right?” Tommie shook her head, tucking her short brown hair behind her ears. She took a swig of the sweet liquid, tongue burning a bit from the temperature. “But it must be a sign that it keeps coming back to me. . .right?”

He looked contemplative, studying Tommie’s face and exchanging glances at the book and her eyes. Andrew was usually one to be the voice of reason to Tommie’s impulsive ways of thinking, but never one to deny her curiosity as it’s one of the things he’s come to cherish most about her.

He scanned her face, her amber eyes catching the light just right as they revealed her desire to crack open the book and dive headfirst into the forbidden tale.

“What harm will skimming a few pages do?” he reassures, attempting to conceal his own fascination with the fable. He smiled as her face lit up instantly, her hands quickly moving from her warm mug back to the book. She looked at him in silent question as her hands stilled on the leather bind, waiting for one more seal of approval before turning a single page. “Go on, then. Open it up.”

He scooted his chair closer to her as she slowly opened the book. The tattered pages held a woodsy scent; earthly notes with subtle hints of sweet musk infiltrated their nostrils as she lifted the hardcover.

Her fingers skated across the title page, the name written in faded golden ink. “A Dream in Gold: The Legend of The North Atlantic Forbidden Lovers.”

“There’s no author. . .,” she uttered as she turned the first few pages, searching for some indication of who wrote the curious novel.

“That can’t be,” he said. “There must be mention of one somewhere, at the very least a scribe. How old is this thing, anyways?”

Andrew lifted the book, studying the cover, the first page, even the last page in hopes of finding anything that suggested who wrote it or when it was published. Perplexion clouded his features as his mission proved unsuccessful.

He flipped through the worn pages that looked more like manuscripts. Intricate artwork detailed oceanic voyages and battles fought between ships navigating the harsh waters. Storm clouds with golden lightning bolts, and night skies littered with sparkling constellations.

“Wait, I may have found something,” Andrew stumbled on a page almost entirely blank aside from what appeared to be two faint, obscured signatures. “It’s autographed?” He questioned.

“Maybe they’re the mysterious authors,” Tommie noted.

Andrew hummed in confirmation as he turned back to the first page of the novel, reading aloud the contents.

“Two creatures of sworn enemies, plummeting in the trenches of a love so dangerous and rare. A love that would move mountains and uproot the sturdiest trees, that would beckon storms with gales too fierce to be measured by humankind. Forbidden by the laws of nature, punishable by a sentence no less than death of the highest degree.”

Tommie found herself entranced as Andrew read the words that garnished the pages, his voice adding a certain depth to them as she somehow felt she’d heard them all before. Maybe in a dream? Her skin prickled with goosebumps when she felt a strange sense of deja vu, an occurrence she’d felt all too often in her lifetime, but this time felt. . . different.

He continued reading, oblivious to her state of mind when a sudden deafening clap of thunder boomed from the sky, shaking the foundation of the old library and effectively knocking out the power.

They sat in silence for a moment, startled by the intensity of nature's call. The lights flickered back on, illuminating their faces once again as they stared at each other with a hundred questions.

“Keep reading, Andrew,” she urged.

He did as she asked and carried on.

“A woman of sorcery, a man of the undead. Bound together against all odds.”

Tommie closed her eyes, listening intently to the words he spoke. Vivid images of the story came to life in her head.

“A union against Mother Earth's decree over her land. She punishes all her children for such an act, raging her waters in remonstrance.”

She suddenly saw a woman dressed in obsidian toned filigree lace, her feathered hair cascading down the delicate features of her face. By her side was a man. His slim, yet broad frame clothed in black, his chest embellished with ancient atocha coins attached to a chain made of burnished silver. His chestnut hair rested atop his sturdy shoulders.

The sound of something slapping against the floor abruptly broke her from her trance. She opened her eyes to see a thick, ragged card lying beneath the table, its design mimicked the artwork of the book.

“What have we here?” Andrew said as he bent down to retrieve the peculiar card that was tucked away inside the novel.

Tommie leaned over a bit, squinting as she tucked her head in front of him to get a better look at the card.

Holy shit, she instantly thought.

The man pictured on the card was the exact same one Tommie had imagined as they’d been reading, just minutes-prior.

How in the hell?

She’d always been aware of her extremely vivid imagination, but it had never been so apparent as it was at that moment. Something about it felt different this time. . . it felt stronger.

Andrew noticed a sudden shift in her expression, her eyes widened as she took in the image of the card.

“You’re a thousand miles away, Tom. Tell me what that mind of yours is conjuring up,” he implored.

She decided to keep this to herself, afraid she would fail in trying to explain the phenomena to Andrew as she couldn’t make sense of it herself.

“Tarot,” she quickly blurted. “It’s a special sort of tarot card.” She dug through her bag filled with books until she found the one titled Holistic Tarot: An Integrative Approach to Using Tarot for Personal Growth. “I just finished reading this book on them, they’re incredibly fascinating.”

She carefully took the card from Andrew, brushing away some of the dust that had collected on it over the years.

Printed underneath the portrait of the man: The World.

She thumbed through her book until she found the section that detailed the symbolism of each card.

“This one of your overdue books, love?” He quipped, nudging her shoulder playfully.

“Look,” She pointed to the image depicting a similar card as she read the meaning to him. “The World card symbolizes completion, fulfillment and wholeness. It often signifies achieving a long-term goal or fulfilling a dream, and indicates travel to foreign lands, connecting cultures as one.”

Andrew nodded but had a confused look about him, “Why is this card so different from the ones in your book?” He asked.

Tommie couldn’t put it into words. She just had a sense that there was something much more significant about this card, something other tarot cards didn’t possess. This one was rare, one of a kind.

All she could do was shake her head in response to his question.

Andrew held it delicately in his hands, turning it around and investigating the pale card with dark etches of an almost-mystic male face. “It looks different for one,” he remarked, placing it down next to one in the book. “The ones in your book are full of color. . .and the faces—they lack the intricate detail this one possesses.”

He was right, the depiction didn’t even come close to the ones featured in the book.

“I’m not sure,” she retorted, grabbing her coffee in a swift motion, leaning back in her seat to nurse it as Andrew continued to investigate, flipping the pages to find one similar.

She took a break from the whirlwind of her thoughts and watched him move, his concentration endearing and lovely. He was always so willing to dive right into all of this with her, even if it wasn’t his own interest. Perfect man. He complimented her so incredibly well—encouraging her wonders of life when others only wanted to dampen it.

Though she’d only known him for a couple of months, their meeting seemed destined. He brought comfort and peace to her otherwise jumbling, lurching train of a life.

He peeked back, his eyebrow raised. “You’ve gotta see this.”

Tommie leaned forward, sitting her drink on the table. He had the tarot book laid open, next to A Dream in Gold, still spread wide to reveal yellowing pages.

The stark white card was laid between. . .and as soon as Tommie made the correlation Andrew was waiting for, her eyes nearly bulged out of her head.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, in utter disbelief.

⋆⁺₊⋆☾*ੈ☁︎🃁𓉸︎☽⋆⁺₊⋆

Plymouth, MA

October 30, 1971

It was the most serene and spooky Autumn night, the moon nearly full. An almost-white mist, overtaking the grounds of the old, abandoned cemetery.

The winds flurried around your loose curls, enticing your coming enchantment. They resembled the voices of the dead, beckoning you nearer.

“Not quite yet,” you hushed back, placing your open palm on the nameless cemented block of a grave you’d always felt a certain gravity pulling you towards, placed hidden at the back of the plots. “Soon, my friend.”

The natural fog was alluring to you, drawing you nearer to other old, crumbling stones and markers. Mossy and forgotten, the graves that held loved ones, were treasures. The generations—the centuries— that had passed since most of these lovely souls had moved from one life to the next— it was daunting to most.

But not to you.

No, it was like finding precious gold. The remains of these people, being so near, still, even after their souls had departed to their respective realms, . . .it was taken for granted by many.

Though, not by you.

You danced to their forgotten songs, answered their muffled cries beneath the cold soil. You cherished their abandoned stories, each one so vastly different from the other. You shared in their joy, you grieved in their sorrow.

You wanted to help them, to ensure their restfulness in the forlorn afterlife.

Tomorrow night, on All Hallow’s Eve, you would set forth your per annum spell of peace over the lonesome graves. The most sacred night of the year, the only one of which allowed this spell to be cast.

Most witches strayed from performing this enchantment, the strength it required, being far too great for most to conjure.

But you were different.

The dead gave you strength; your devotion to them, a driving force for your power.

The other witches and warlocks in your coven were threatened by you and the sheer amount of power you possessed. You were never one to conform, never one to obey the stringent rules of your High Priestess.

When you chose to repeatedly use your gift for the betterment of mankind, above the orders given to you by the High Priestess, you were shunned. Expelled from your coven, never to speak to your sisters or brothers again.

“No witch or warlock must ever misuse their powers for the sake of anyone other than the coven from which they reside. Such misuse is considered an act of treason and will result in immediate banishment. As such, all those remaining in the coven are prohibited from communicating with the banished. Those who do are subject to banishment as well. ”

All of your sisters and brothers followed orders, cutting all ties with you, acting as though you’d never existed.

All of them, except Sage and Daniel. Your dearest companions.

Sage had momentarily desired to join you in your exile. She couldn’t bear residing in a coven that you were no longer part of, but you wouldn’t allow for it. You wanted her to stay, to grow in her magic alongside her sisters and brothers. Fellowship, dire for a witch—making banishment all the more harrowing.

She was a free spirit like you, like Danny. . .but she could flourish wherever she may be.

You and Sage made a vow, a sacred covenant to remain in touch with each other in secret.

Daniel, though. . .

After your banishment, he lost all respect for the High Priestess, rejecting her order and suffering his own banishment as ramification.

It had also been murmured in shared spaces that witches and warlocks in your coven, who were attracted to the same sex would be mutilated—dismembered, even— if their true ideal for love were to be exposed.

So, Danny knew, deep in his heart, that he already couldn’t stay around if that were to be the case. He would have lost his life, or been severely harmed if he were to have stayed.

Things needed to change in the world. But, alas, you were stuck in a wretched time where who you loved was frowned upon unless it fit an acceptable societal norm.

Even though Daniel had never explicitly told you, you knew him. . . And his wandering eye, for other men, was not hidden from your protective watch. He’d watched your back, and you’d watched his for nearly two decades.

Danny was your closest confidant. He’d been a dear friend since the day you had both entered the coven, each of you, so young. Only eight years old, due for commencement to your trainings at Luminara Institute as a magic bearer.

The coven had been your home for more than half of your life when they’d dismissed you. It had been a gut punch to be exiled, but your best friend leaving with you had softened the blow.

Though, you’d still been nearly frozen in your banishment, not sure what to do next.

For the past few years, the two of you had wandered the earth together as a pair, a sister and brother in search of anything to fulfill the heavy emptiness in your lives that you just couldn’t place.

When you’d migrated back to Massachusetts, Sage welcomed you back with open arms. It was funny, as much as you’d enjoyed distancing yourself from the coven, and leaving that life behind, you treasured the fact that you still had a connection to other sorcerers—specifically Sage.

Being distanced from the coven was good for you, as you struggled with the feeling of being confined when you only longed to be free—whole. . .a feeling you still hadn’t quite achieved, even after leaving Luminara.

But, being apart from it all left you completely out of the loop with several bits of news. Whether it have been new rules for witches and warlocks (some you still had to abide by, given your gift), or all of the whispers of general supernatural happenings. All that fluttered around the spacious halls of the Academy, unbeknownst to you.

If it weren’t for Sage.

Part of the precious vow you’d made with Sage had been to meet at least once a week to discuss things—keep you up on the latest. It was special that she’d been intent on doing so. If she were to ever be discovered doing so with an exiled sister, she would instantly meet her doom.

So, you had a special place, on the outskirts of Plymouth, flush with the overbearing branches and leaves of towering trees. It was far from the Institute, never risking a prying sorcerer, overhearing any conversation.

A small eatery, only about ten tables total in the entire establishment. . .only ever regulars surrounding you in the multi-colored, creaking wooden seats.

On this night, after a quick visit to the cemetery you religiously visited every October, you were sitting across from your sister. Her caramel skin, the most beautiful shade, complimenting her bright blue eyes.

Her hair fell in thick, black waves: gold accented pieces held tiny braids throughout her hair. Her locks fell down to the middle of her bicep, where she wore a shiny gold cuff. Sage was always decked out in gold, warding off any vampires as she’d had a particularly scarring incident with one as a teen, before she’d joined the coven.

You watched her lips, stained with dark lipstick, take a generous swig of her sweet red wine. Her lips left a perfect mark on the rim.

“Your lips leave the most gorgeous imprint,” you remarked, almost absentmindedly. Sage’s beauty had stricken you since the first time you’d met her.

Her eyes sparkled and she winked at you, shaking her head. “You’re too much,” she smirked. But just as soon as her eyes glinted, they were growing wide. “Oh, shit, y/n. Speaking of imprinting. . . I’ve gotta tell you.”

“Fuck,” you rubbed your right brow, preparing for the latest gossip. “What is it?”

“Interspecies imprinting. . .completely against our written law. . .against Mother Nature’s law. All of that shit, y’know?”

You nodded slowly, a sort of gloomy feeling made your heart sink. This subject made you strangely sad. You’d never been able to pinpoint why. You’d equated it to just seeming wrong. It was wrong to shame the love one had for another, no matter the circumstance. Any law against love just felt. . . unnatural.

“A vampire and a witch,” she took another sip of her wine. She gulped it down, eyes still wide as she divulged more. “One of our sisters, in fact. She’s currently in the dungeon awaiting execution.”

“Sage,” you gasped. “How in the hell are you being so calm about this? Our sister is awaiting her death and you’re shooting the fucking breeze about it.”

She blinked rapidly, seemingly taken aback by your sudden outburst. “You like hearing the latest, y/n. I’m giving you the latest.”

“I don’t like you sounding so nonchalant about death, Sage.”

She looked down, pursing her lips and crossing her arms over her thin frame. “She knew better, y/n. Vampires are terrifying and not to be messed with,” she reminded, moving her hair to flash you her jugular. The thick, white scar, sticking out above her smooth flesh. You inadvertently flinched at the sight. “Those fucking blood suckers are hideous, heinous creatures. And interspecies mating is fucking law. It’s in the bylaws. Mother Nature forbids it. You don’t do it. You know this.”

You grabbed your own glass, taking a sip of the red and licking the tart remnants off your lips as you placed it back on the table. “What is she going to do? Do you think they’ll really go through with her execution?”

Sage shrugged, her dainty fingers going to mess with a Sweet N Low packet. “I don’t know. It’s not so simple,” she noted, stopping her movements to level you with a serious stare. “There’s more.”

“What is it?” You wondered aloud.

“The witch is a relative to our very own High Priestess,” she stated. “But from what I’ve heard, it doesn’t matter. It’s interspecies morherfucking mating— and breeding,” her icy eyes struck yours. “She was imprinted.”

Your blood ran cold under her stare, and with her words. “Oh my god,” you breathed. “She’s with child?!”

“I’d hardly call it that, such an innocent name for something so vile,” she tossed the Sweet N Low packet to the floor, leaning in so her face was mere inches from yours. The sweetness of the wine on her breath filled your every sense. “A vampire and a witch cannot conceive a child, y/n . . what they produce. . . more the likes of a demon. A barbaric creature possessing powers that go against the will of Mother Nature.”

The anger in her eyes turned to fear. “If it’s born, Mother Nature will unleash her wrath in ways we’ve never seen. And that’s not even the worst of it.” She leaned back and took her wine glass, downing the rest of the blood red liquid and wiping the remnants off her mouth, smearing her lipstick. “That thing they’ve created will put an end to all of us.”

You swallowed the massive lump in your throat as you struggled to make sense of it all.

“Has this ever happened before?” You quietly asked, your voice trembling as the thought caused your throat to tighten. You took the last few drinks of your wine to ease your state.

“No,” she answered. “And for good fucking reason. It’s the law, y/n. They are set in place for our own safety.”

The feeling of the blood rising to your ears came before you even realized it was on its way. The chatter of the other patrons in the room sounded muffled, as though you were dunked below water.

How could she be so cold about these laws and these rules when . . .?

You slammed your now empty wine glass on the polished wood of the table, causing Sage to jolt in her seat.

“Those are the same laws that got your best friends banished, Sage. The same laws you were ready to break to join me, but I wouldn’t let you. Tell me, then. Was your safety, or anyone else’s safety at risk with us there—breaking the ‘law’?”

Her face contorted to one of remorse. She took your hand in hers, rubbing the backs of your knuckles with her thumb. “I’m sorry, y/n. . . you know that’s not what I meant. But after what they did to me. . . it’s hard for me to understand why anyone would want to sleep with one of those evil creatures, especially knowing what could come if it.”

You felt your features soften as well. It honestly broke your heart that she’d experienced such terror from another supernatural being—any being, for that matter. All things had the ability to be evil. But the fact that she’s experienced it firsthand from the exact supernatural creature you’d been discussing made you feel empathy with her harshness.

Shit, for all you knew, the news could have caused some severe trauma flashbacks for her. . .

Your blood pressure settled back to normal and you wrapped your hand around hers, squeezing a bit in reassurance. “I understand, babe,” you said, your voice finding its normal calm tone again. “I’m sorry—you’ve possibly relived traumas because of it. . . And I . . . I didn’t think about that before I snapped.”

“I know why you did,” she soothed. “I get it. And I’m sorry, too, for not taking your situation into consideration before I went off.”

Your cheeks lifted a bit with a smile. Deciding to change the subject, pointing to your empty chalice. “I need more wine,” you giggled.

Her own eyes lit up with yours. “Let’s.”

And as she waved a hand over to signal a waiter or waitress, you zoned out in contemplation, your smile fading. . .

Interspecies mating. . .

You’d always thought it a ridiculous law to forbid it, so you hadn’t ever gone so far as to think about a child coming of it.

Could something conceived out of love truly cause so much harm to the earth? Could it really be what Sage said it was? A demon? Truly? You had never once thought that any of you could be capable of creating such a thing, especially out of something so pure.

You had to physically shake yourself out of it, blinking a few times to rid the thought. You knew it would plague you endlessly if you gave it enough headspace.

You would give yourself time to grieve the fate of your estranged sister another time.

Tonight was simply about time with a dear friend, and you wouldn’t let yourself ruin such an occasion.

⋆⁺₊⋆☾*ੈ☁︎🃁𓉸︎☽⋆⁺₊⋆

Plymouth, MA

October 31, 1971

When you arrived at your treasured cemetery on your most favorite, sacred night of the year, the evening was chilling in the best way. You’d worn your thickest black tights with your favorite long sleeved black dress, which stopped at your mid thigh. Your pointed black boots and black wide brimmed hat completing your outfit.

You giggled in spite of yourself. Because, admittedly, right now, you looked like a stereotypical witch. On Halloween.

Letting your snicker fade, a small grin stayed on your lips as you reacquainted yourself with the lovely souls that occupied this graveyard. You touched the stones you’d familiarized yourself with over the years, the precious souls that lived in each spot whispering haunting welcomes.

Your favorite sound.

A thick blanket of fog hovered just above the headstones, illuminated by the moon that shone brighter than ever before in the cloudless sky. It suddenly all seemed much different than the night before. Something peculiar hung in the air that you couldn’t quite place but felt deep within your bones.

Then, it happened.

You heard a rustle amongst the overgrown ivy leaves, like a rabbit quickly fleeing from its predator. But this was no animal. Especially not anything so innocent as a bunny.

You could feel its energy.

The presence from the being near you was unlike any you had ever felt before. Your spine grew a chill that made the cool air of the night feel warm as the hairs on your arms stood to attention.

He was here. And he was hiding. . . from you.

You could hear him quietly breathing, even from a distance, you interpreted the coldness of the stagnant blood beneath his flesh.

A cold-blooded creature, hiding in the dark. . . A vampire.

Your sworn enemy. You’ve never once encountered one, only heard of the horrendous tales told by your sisters and brothers who had.

Sage. . . dear, sweet Sage.

You adjusted the gold necklaces that never left your neck, feeling a certain comfort and safety in the jewelry. Your thumb smoothed across the dainty moon pendant of the necklace that Danny had gifted you recently, the peaceful enchantment he’d put on it calming your nervous heart.

It was simply known that one must always wear gold as a means to ward off an attack from such a creature. So, you never took off your faithful chains.

Instantly, you became angered; your blood boiled at the thought of him infiltrating your sacred place, of him disturbing your spell of rest over these dear souls. A fire burned behind your eyes as you prepared yourself to defend these grounds.

“You don’t belong here,” you asserted. “These souls are precious and you do not deserve to walk amongst them. Leave, now.”

Suddenly, there was a clap of thunder so great that the ground beneath your feet shook, nearly knocking you down as you braced yourself. Not a single cloud in the sky, yet a storm threatened to brew. His work, no doubt.

You heard him running against the bushes and you tried to follow him with your eyes, but he was too quick. Reaching your hand out, you channeled his location the best you could. Your brows furrowed in concentration as you mustered up every bit of strength you had.

Finally. . . you found him.

Your eyes caught him, crouched beside a grave. . . but not just any grave. The grave of the soul you heard crying out to you the night before, the one from which you’d always felt so much sorrow and pain.

Your mind became clouded with the need to protect this cherished soul as you stormed him, ready to fight him off when suddenly. . .

As you made your way to him, you watched his body unfold, slowly and gradually, broad shoulders and chest expanding to match a stern exterior. His face contorted into one of true valor and love for the grave at which he stood beside.

It was strange.

Vampires were, literally, cold and heartless beings. Not caring for anything or anyone. Their sole purpose on the earth, to cause suffering and death. . . or at least that was what you had been told.

“My brothers. . .they sleep here,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. His eyes swept down, casting the stone a watchful stare. His hands pressed firm to the cold cement, showing his protection over it. He pressed his hand even more firmly to the old stone.

You stood in shock, but did your best to keep a confident front.

This must be a trick, you thought, trying to find a meaning in his behavior. There is no way he—a heartless vampire—would feel such a need to safeguard anything—much less a corpse.

It could only be a ploy to distract you, and then cause the harm he’d originally intended.

A classic trait of a vampire—to plot a distractive ruse against their prey.

He was simply luring you into a vulnerable state— only to strike just as you’ve earned his trust.

You held firm as you would not let him deceive you. If it were truly his brother, wouldn’t that mean he was also a vampire? Was he naturally born? Or turned? If it were his naturally born, vampiric brother, he wouldn’t be buried. You knew that vampires were not buried after death, their bodies disintegrated to nothing once they perish. There would be nothing to bury. He was lying to you.

“You—you need to leave. You are not meant to walk these grounds. I know what you are,” the quiver in your voice revealed that you were not as gallant as you attempted to convey. You motioned to the graves he was now obviously guarding. “They are not what you are. I would sense it if they had been.” You quickly grabbed your golden moon pendant and rubbed it fiercely in search of calming your tattered nerves.

No matter what, you were not going to leave. You made a vow to protect this burial ground and that is what you intended to do. Any fear over this heinous creature would not stand in your way. You were prepared to die for these souls.

He turned, facing the two matching headstones, nameless and nearly crumbling from years of standing in one place, the earth shifting time and again.

Then. . .

He turned to face you, the light of the moon chased after him, illuminating him as a spotlight would. Over his face fell a scant shadow, from the overhanging trees and bright light from the full moon. He stood against the still black canvas of the night sky.

As he looked to you, you saw his eyes, more crestfallen than angry, cutting through your exterior.

You had always been told that these creatures were revolting. Every image depicted in your books at Luminara showed them as ghastly, repulsive looking beasts.

That was why you were utterly shocked as you finally caught a glimpse of his face, glowing against the moonlight. . .

His lips were pillowy and plush. His cheekbones, contoured beautifully as the gleam touched them, sat high in the midst of his stark features, his flawless skin not nearly as pale and lifeless as your textbooks had described it to be.

The most intriguing part of his face, though, were his eyes. Once you looked into them, it felt as though you couldn’t bear to look away. They were cavernous; the color of dark coffee, positively enchanting as they seemed to look straight through to your soul.

When you did finally pull yourself away, your eyes traced back to his mouth, his lips sitting so full underneath a. . .mustache?

The swift line of hair above his upper lip complimented him extremely well. It added to his already sharp and alluring features. Though, it caught you off guard; you’d always been taught to believe that vampires couldn’t grow facial hair—whether they be naturally born or reborn.

Admittedly, you’d been taught a lot of things about vampires that you weren’t sure you could believe as you stared at the one in front of you.

He was clothed in a suit of black, hugging his sturdy body in every way it should. The black button down underneath the opened jacket, unbuttoned just enough to show a smooth, toned chest. Silver medallions sat on the exposed skin that was lifting and falling with deep breaths. Not so often as humans do, but enough to catch your eye. This ‘man’ was an undead creature. How. . .?

Your eyes followed his movements as he tucked the hand not holding tight to the stone in the pocket of his slacks. You watched as his firm pecs flexed beneath the thin material of his shirt.

His long, mousy locks blew in the subtle wind.

He was. . . beautiful.

A far cry from any account you’d ever heard of these creatures.

“I wasn’t always like this. . .,” His voice, low and velvety, just a hint of a woeful tone. The despair beneath the tough exterior came off of him in waves. You felt it from him, making your chest heavy with sadness. “This monster you see before you—this so-called life—I did not choose. It was forced upon me– the desolate existence of an alleged killer.” He called himself a monster, yet there was nothing monstrous about him in the least.

His eyes, no longer hard, but rather filled with unshed, glistening tears. They threatened to fall down his cheeks. But, as soon as they appeared, they were gone.

It didn’t matter how quickly they’d evaporated, though, you had seen them. The raw emotion.

He was telling the truth. And these graves—they were his brothers. You felt especially solid in this belief as you now knew the briefest hint of his story—he hadn’t chosen this life.

You believed him.

His cold heart was broken. Shattered in a million pieces. And you could feel every bit of it.

“How are you—?” You gaped, shaking your head the slightest bit. You squinted at him, trying to dissect the creature in front of you. “I’ve always thought your kind to be cold and unfeeling. How are you able to hold even the slightest bit of grief over your resting brothers? And enough to visit them after their death?”

He straightened further, his brow rose with his next words. “They were all I had,” he sniffed. “They were my livelihood, stolen from me before their time by the clutches of hatred and the waves of the ocean.”

“But still. . .” You edged closer, your proximity to him causing him to tense the slightest bit. Trying the best you could, you activated every bit of calm to expel from you, showing him your true intention. You didn’t mean him any harm. He was different. You could tell. “How are you so attached?”

“For one, the man which was laid beneath here,” he placed his hand on the initial stone that had caught your eye. The same one that has drawn you in for all the years you’d come to this cemetery. “Was my twin. The other half of me. We shared a womb, making our bond worlds different from any other. We were tied tighter together than many people. He held me up, and I held him up. But not the way I should have,” his voice cracked as he spoke of this one. And your chest ached for him. What a terrible loss to face. “We came into this world together, and he left over a century before my time. It was a nasty break in our tie to each other. One I had foolishly never prepared for.”

He skated his hand from one grave to the next. He snickered as he looked affectionately at this stone, a tear glittering against his chocolate orb as he spoke. “And this son of a bitch—was my younger brother. The biggest pain in my side, but on the same hand, the brightest light that I had in my life,” a tear fell to grace his unblemished skin. “His death pains me for many reasons as well—but mostly, I grieve him so deeply because I didn’t appreciate him enough when I had him. Not nearly enough,” he tapped against the stone with his fingers a few times, then removed them to curl into the unoccupied pocket.

He continued, “It also doesn’t do one well to believe everything they read or hear. Oftentimes, you’re not getting the whole truth,” he peered down at you, your skin growing goosebumps under his piercing stare. “Do vampires share some characteristics? Yes, of course,” he took a step nearer to you, his chest mere inches from yours. You had to crane your neck to keep eye contact. “But are we all inherently different based on who we were as humans before? More so than anything else.”

“I understand,” you whispered, feeling utterly transfixed by every word that slipped from his pretty lips. “It makes sense.”

“But you,” he grew even closer to you, twisting a lock of your hair sitting on your stiff shoulder in his fingers. “A woman of magic. A sorceress. A dealer with the devil himself.” He dropped your hair as his sparkling eyes fixed on yours yet again, his mouth upturned in a faint, captivating grin. “a witch.”

You shuddered at hearing the name come from his lips. The way he said it. . . so chilling as it effortlessly rolled off his tongue. Almost hedonistic— he had been waiting to say it.

He knew who you were, just as you did him.

“I’ve heard stories about your kind too, you know.” He turned from you as he looked up at scattered stars, tracing their patterns in the air with his finger. “How you prey on innocent children, feasting on their flesh with your gluttonous, carnivorous desire. . .” You found yourself staring at him with a curious gaze, watching as he strategically pointed to each constellation. It was alluring, charming, even. “. . .that your pallid skin is crumpled and decayed. Your nose hooked and your teeth jagged, your beady eyes like that of your feral feline companions.”

He stopped and looked at you, his eyes following a trail up and down your figure. “You certainly don’t meet the physical clichè.” He smiled, displaying his beautiful, stark white teeth that lacked the pointed fangs you’d always been told about.

Everything he said about witches, it was all a product of a sinister stereotype. . . never once had any of it been true. Your kind has tried to put these horrid accusations to rest for centuries.

And if that were the case, it must also mean— that everything you’ve been made to believe about his kind, is perhaps not true, as well, though you never truly believed any of it.

You somehow always knew that they couldn’t have been as diabolical as you had been taught, that it had all been wild embellishments on the truth to turn your species against one another.

“Well, I can promise you I don’t feast on children. That rumor has plagued us for centuries and to be honest, I haven’t a clue where it came from.”

“There are plenty for my kind that I am oblivious to their beginnings as well,” he smirked.

Your mind was clouded with a billowing spiral of questions, most of which you just couldn’t ask. They would simply linger in the air, maybe to be answered someday— but right now you wanted to focus on him.

Something you couldn’t quite shake, though, was why you hadn’t ever seen him before? In all the years you’d spent wandering through the blessed, abandoned grounds, never once had you encountered anyone. . . let alone him.

You couldn’t help but blurt, your thoughts a frenzy. “What’s your name?”

“Jacob.” He didn’t hesitate, nodding towards you a bit to signal your response.

“Y/n,” you said, feeling silly to tell him. It felt as though he should have already known it. “It’s funny,” you started, the smallest grin curling your lip as you shook your head, studying him.

“What is it?”

“It almost feels as though we’ve met. But on the same hand, I’ve never witnessed you walking down this garden of lost souls before,” you pondered aloud. “Why haven’t our paths crossed until now?”

He looked to the headstones of his brothers, longingly and with anguish filling his eyes. “I don’t come here often. It’s dangerous–for me, at least. I seldom come. And when I do, it’s out of desperation to speak with them again.”

“How many times have you come?” You whispered, as though you were sharing a secret.

He cleared his throat. “Well, counting tonight . . .,” he paused. “A total of three times since they've been buried.”

“And when were they buried?” You questioned, admittedly dying of curiosity.

He eyed you for a few quiet moments. The crickets nearby, vyed for attention from the night with their tell-tale creaks. You stayed focused on him, not letting any other thing distract you from his contemplative stare into the black abyss of sky behind you.

With one last glance at his brothers’ graves, he locked eyes with you once more. It was as though he was challenging you. Questioning your intentions. You decided to step towards him. And, against your better judgment, you reached to touch the black of his suit sleeve.

Looking down, he breathed in a deep breath. It was still so strange to you that he breathed so deeply for someone who was, quite literally, undead.

All of the rumors and legend didn’t add up to the man standing in front of you.

“1830,” he finally stated.

Your heart dropped to the pointed toes of your boots.

Damn. You had not expected that.

You gaped for several seconds, but found your voice to vocalize the time it had been since. “One hundred and—.”

“Forty-one years,” he finished.

Holy shit.

So not only were you meeting a vampire, you were meeting one who had been around for nearly 200 years.

Swallowing, you felt the most intimidated you’d been since you first made contact with him. It was unbelievable you were speaking with a human who’d been around for an entire century, plus some. . . You had never been around someone so. . . What was the term? Ancient?

“You’re in shock,” he said, his velvety tone bringing you back to Earth.

Your eyes connected with his, blinking several times.

“Yes,” you said, unashamedly. “I am in shock. You are correct.”

He quietly huffed, a small smile gleaming his features. You saw his perfectly white, straight teeth again. Without wanting to admit it, you were still looking for the legendary fangs that his kind were supposed to have.

“No fangs,” you said absently, still glancing his teeth.

“Yes, fangs,” he said, shaking his head at the idea. You raised your brow. “Not now,” he confirmed. “But when needed, they appear.”

“When needed?”

“So many questions.”

You scoffed, but didn’t stay on it. The night was becoming chillier. You couldn’t help crossing your arms, the smallest gust blowing your hair from around your face.

And then you saw it, his eyes dilated and zoned in on your neck. But as soon as you saw it, he was shutting his eyes, silently mouthing words to himself and tucking his hands deeper into his pockets.

Now, you were intimidated for new reasons.

Starting to edge away, you watched as his desperate, sad eyes followed you. They stopped you from moving any further. It wasn’t right to immediately be fearful just because he had natural instincts. That was unfair and you knew it.

He was lonely. He had to be.

“Do you have friends?” You questioned, channeling empathy into your tone. “It’s been so many years. . .”

“I’ve had a few. Here and there,” he nodded. Then, he shrugged, his thick brows creasing, forlorn. “But they come and go. When I am forced to stay.”

You hummed, not sure how to respond. It was very sad to contemplate. Him, never changing, and everyone around him aging. . .

“I’m sure watching the rest of your family age and leave was hard,” you said, soon realizing the callous way that must’ve sounded. You smacked a hand to your forehead. “I’m sorry. That was — I don’t know. . . I’m sorry.”

“No, trust me when I say I’ve heard worse in my lifetime,” he reassured. “But our other family—they were gone before my brothers and I left to fight in the naval forces. To begin, my father actually left my mother after she’d given birth to Samuel,” he motioned to the younger brother’s grave. He let out an angry breath, seeming to still be disappointed in his father’s decision. Even after all of these years. The genuine emotion in his heart perplexed you. “Then, my mother and sister were killed by ruthless villagers. Terrible, ungodly men who sought the blood of vulnerable women while my brothers and I were away. . .before we. . .switched paths.”

So much information. You weren’t sure how to digest what you were being told. Everything he was sharing, a new discovery that you couldn’t wrap your mortal brain around. Magic couldn’t help you when it came to this vampire. This enigmatic creature.

You decided to get back to the point at hand. “So, only three times? When it’s been more than a century?”

“It’s too hard to visit often. When your brothers are dead in the ground, and you're eternally alive. . . It’s enough to make one unbearably sick with overwhelming grief. It’s best for me to stay away,” he replied. “I came once to bury them. Then another to visit after they’d been laid to rest,” he rubbed under his eye, flicking the tip of his nose with a finger. A tick. “And then tonight.”

“And why tonight?”

He looked thoughtful again. He didn’t want to divulge the information. You could tell. You reached a hand forward, this time touching his chest. Where a heart should be beating. . .but you couldn’t feel the dull thrum beneath your open palm.

It was offputting . . .and strangely comforting.

He looked down at your hand, and his stare at your brave touch made you recoil and move to bring your hand back. You tucked it back where it had been, nestled in the crook of your warm elbow.

“You don’t have to ans—.”

“I came tonight because I’ve heard before that if you come on All Hallows’ Eve to visit past loved ones, a sort of portal opens and you’re able to communicate with those you’ve lost,” he pushed it out quickly, seeming almost ashamed. “I never believed in it. I didn’t want to—didn’t want to get my hopes up. I never accepted it could actually be possible. I still don’t know if it is.”

You nodded, understanding. Your eyes smiled. “I see,” you uttered. You stepped nearer again. “I come for a similar reason. To use my power to send well wishes of peace in death. Talk to those who are forgotten, long gone, in the ways my abilities allow me to.”

“That’s beautiful,” he spoke, his dark eyes boring into yours. “Truly. I didn’t know a witch could be so . . . Full of love.”

“Really?” You scoffed. “You thought so poorly of witches that you assumed they couldn’t love?”

“I didn’t quite say that,” he winked. Leaves crunched under his boot as he, too, took a step. Towards you. You couldn’t help but shiver the slightest bit. And not from the October breeze. “But you are hardly one to talk. Immediately going into defense with me. Assuming the worst. Lies you’d heard.”

“Fair,” you nodded, ducking your head. Looking back up, you matched his gaze, which had unwaveringly stayed on you. You’d felt it burning into you. Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, you straightened your hat. “I apologize for my assumptions.”

“And I, mine,” he softly responded. “And that’s why you’re here? To speak to them?”

“Yes,” you agreed, straightening and smoothing your dress against your thighs. “And what you heard was correct. Tonight of all nights is the only one with which you may communicate with those you’ve lost,” you paused, pursing your lips with a sad smile. “But only with certain power. And I’m afraid you lack that as a non-warlock.”

You didn’t tell him that not all souls responded when you’d cast the spell to seek the lost in their present realm. That sometimes, you encountered the precious few that did not want to be bothered, longing to stay quiet in their death.

And especially, you didn’t want to mention the nagging thought in your mind. That, sometimes, if you couldn't reach them, it meant the worst. That they’d gone to a place unreachable. A place that was unreachable, even for one like you who garnered enchanted abilities.

You ached for those souls, knowing that if you couldn’t reach them, they were in a place where peace would never be able to find them again. No magic could come to them to console them in the afterlife. It crushed your heart.

Saying this to him was not an option, as you feared for his younger brother. You’d heard plenty from his twin’s resting place. Feeling so much energy from him it was though you’d talked to him as a living being. He wasn’t completely gone, in a place void of peace.

But you’d never sensed anything from the other. The other headstone, where his younger brother laid, was only ever silent. It never showed signs of a present soul when you’d touch it or speak to it.

You decided to offer what you could. Attempt seeking his twin. . .and even his other brother. . . If only for Jacob’s sake.

If you ended up discovering he was in the unspeakable place, and completely gone. . .you would play it off. You could do that. Maybe even enchant Jacob to not know better.

The flitting of your heart told you that you could at least reach his twin. You felt you had to offer this to him. You wanted to bring his heart a sense of comfort and ease.

Help him in whatever way you could.

“I can help you. . .,” you said with a hushed tone. “. . . I can help you hear them again.”

He looked at you with silent bewilderment, questions haunting his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair.

Without another word, you grabbed his hand and took him to the headstones. To your surprise, he didn’t hesitate in the slightest. With you, he knelt down to their level, and you placed his palm upon the one that belonged to his twin brother and set your own on top of his.

You had expected his skin to be cold and lifeless to the touch, but he felt warm. His skin was soft against your fingers, causing a slight hitch to your breath.

“Close your eyes and clear your mind. Listen–hear.”

He nodded as his eyes squeezed shut, you doing the same.

You instantly felt his twin; you heard his unmistakable voice you’d come to treasure over the years of protecting his resting place.

He was strong; he knew his brother was near.

You filled Jacob’s hand with your energy, the wind whistling heavier around you, whipping your hair around as you felt it transfer through to him entirely, as you allowed it to reverberate through his soul.

His strong hand suddenly tensed under your touch, and you knew the voice of his beloved brother was echoing throughout his body.

“Joshua. . .” The name whispered off of Jacob’s tongue so quietly that you nearly missed it.

The name– the name of his twin. The one he’d spent everyday of his mortal life with, from the very moment they were conceived. From the moment they were born. He’d been the one with which he shared his mother’s womb. A bond broken by a death so tragic and untimely.

One doomed to walk the earth, alone, for the rest of eternity, cursed by the burden of an eternal life filled with isolation. The other, sleeping beneath the cold ground. Their fates, each designed much differently, yet their souls still tethered even in the midst of a tragic end.

Two souls, forever sharing the other half.

You finally had a name to attach to this darling spirit, and you smiled upon hearing it for the first time.

You tightened your hold on his hand, feeling his joy at hearing his brother speak for the first time in 141 years. But with his joy also came his sorrow. The immense sadness he had carried with him for more than a century, crashing down upon you as the two of you connected your souls in this most intimate way. You felt it with him.

You turned your head when you felt his hand flinch a bit under yours. He was still focusing, his eyebrows bent in deep concentration. A few stray tears slipped down his cheeks.

The steady rhythm of your heart lapsed. Seeing him in such a state made your chest pinch. This was the most connected you’d ever felt to another—including Daniel.

It was shocking, to say the least.

Then, suddenly, he hushed, sniffing tears back. “Samuel. . . Please, y/n. Help me to hear Samuel.”

Your heart sank.

The moment you’d been afraid of had come. You knew he would ask about his beloved Samuel, and the last thing you wanted to do was deny him.

You were scared– scared of hearing the inevitable silence that you’ve come so accustomed to from his place of rest. Scared of him hearing nothing from his dear brother.

You were hesitant for a moment, an inner battle being fought within you. Would you break his heart by denying him? Or would it be by attempting to call out to his brother, only to be met with the stillness you’ve heard at his tomb for years?

He looked to you again, your heart aching as his eyes were much heavier than before.

You knew that you had to try, if only for the sake of Jacob. You knew it would take every ounce of your strength to try and call out to his muted brother, but looking into his mournful eyes, you made up your mind that it would be worth it.

Grasping his fingers tightly in your clutch, you moved his hand to Samuel’s stone. And once again, you settled your palm above the top of his hand. He held it firmly to the stone, more tears whisking down his cheeks at what he anticipated.

You felt your own brewing at your ducts for the defeat you knew was bound to occur.

Drawing a deep breath, you prepared, mustering up the sheer power you knew it would take to reach out to Samuel and draw anything from his spirit in return.

Repeating the share of energy you’d emitted to Jacob over Joshua’s stone, you tried your damndest to maximize the amount. And just as before, you felt the energy translate to him from you.

His hand tensed, waiting for what had transpired over his twin’s grave. But you knew this was already different than before. Your experience told you so.

With Joshua and the other souls, you could hear them so clearly. Their spirits would stir as they would come to. . .as they would greet you. . .

But here, there was nothing.

Silence.

You could feel the hope Jacob had conjured, seeping from his pores. Where it wasn’t visible to the normal, human eye, if you opened your eyes, you knew you’d be able to see it. The look of it, floating from him, drifting into the growing fog of the night.

Pressing harder, you squeezed your eyes shut, so tight you saw stars. . . You needed something.

Come on, Samuel, you chanted internally, willing him to respond.

Suddenly, you felt the words to a familiar spell falling from your lips. They came of their own accord, lighting up the fires that were starting to extinguish in your heart.

One last resort.

You made another quick decision and placed double hands on Jacob. Where you had one on his hand, you placed another on his back, trying to get your power to work through him.

Maybe the familial tie would bring this lost soul to you. . .

But, alas, nothing.

You sighed defeatedly, yet still kept your eyes closed and your hands on your counterpart. Beside you, there was a choked sob from Jacob, shaking you from your thoughts of despair.

Feeling the immense sorrow with him, a few tears dripped down your cheeks. More welled in your throat, the longer you sat there, hearing him cry into the night.

All of the crying stopped when you felt the earth shake at your knees. The sound of tree branches cracking around you roused you, alerted you.

And as the ground continued to rumble, you felt, underneath your hands, the stone crack.

⋆⁺₊⋆☾*ੈ☁︎🃁𓉸︎☽⋆⁺₊⋆｡˚☽˚ 𓃠 ˚☾˚｡⋆⁺₊⋆☾*ੈ☁︎🃁𓉸︎☽⋆⁺₊⋆

a/n:

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