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cherienymphe · 4 years ago

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Lies Untold (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, jealous!Sherlock

!!! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !!!

➥ {page breaks done by @firefly-graphics }

summary: Sherlock Holmes is the love of your life, and convinced that you will never get your happily ever after with him, you make a decision that does more harm than good

Your morning started like every other. You were briefly woken up by the feel of your husband’s lips on your face, his smooth voice greeting you before moving onto your daughter in her crib. You drifted back to sleep just as he shut the door, making his way downstairs to open up the inn for the day. When you woke up for the final time, it felt like hours later, but in reality, it could have only been minutes.

You breastfed your daughter almost immediately after you woke up, the two of you somehow always waking up together. You went downstairs for breakfast as soon as she was fast asleep again, greeting your husband with a kiss as you met in the kitchen. The day went by slow, the last guest leaving the inn sometime in the early evening. It was late in the night, almost time for you to retire when the bell above the door rang.

A guest had arrived.

Your husband was on the third floor where you all resided, tending to your daughter no doubt while you manned the first floor. You were fooling with something behind the counter, head bent down as their heavy steps reached your ears.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” you told them.

They did not reply, but you knew they heard you. You rose, straightening your dress as you lifted your eyes to greet the only guest for the night. As soon as your eyes met a familiar blue, you froze, feeling as if you had been struck by lightning.

He looked the same as ever. Perhaps even more handsome now, and you cursed yourself for thinking such a thought when your husband was just upstairs. He looked just as stunned to see you, reaching up to adjust his dark suit as he cleared his throat. His hair was a bit longer since the last time you saw him, an errant curl hanging onto his forehead, and you suddenly realized that you had been holding your breath.

“Mr. Holmes,” you breathed, chest burning a bit from the lack of oxygen. “Just you?”

He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a scoff, lips quirking upwards.

“Mr. Holmes?”

You swallowed, uncomfortably shifting on your feet. He stepped up to the counter, that teasing smile on his pink lips, one you did not return.

“A little formal for old friends, is it not?”

Your shoulders sagged as you released a small sigh.

“No, you…you are right. It’s just been a while since I’ve last seen you,” you told him. “I was caught off guard.”

It was the truth. Honestly, you had hoped to never see Sherlock again. Not if you could help it.

“So, you run an inn now…”

You briefly glanced at him as you searched for a key, nodding.

“I do.”

“I had not realized. The name…it was unfamiliar to me,” he said.

Your hand tightened around the key, and you avoided his eye, heart beating wildly in your chest.

“It’s my husband’s name,” you murmured.

You swore that you could hear his breath hitch, and it seemed to get unbelievably quiet. Against your better judgement, you looked to him, finding his blue eyes just a tad darker. His face always looked pinched, like he was constantly overthinking, but this was more than that. He looked positively floored. Were you the first person to have thrown the great Sherlock Holmes for a loop? Had circumstances been different, you would have felt proud.

Before either of you could say anything else, your husband’s footsteps on the stairs reached your ears. You turned to him with a strained smile just as he neared, and he placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Mr. Holmes,” your husband greeted jovially. “What a pleasure! Will it be just you then?”

“Indeed,” the dark-haired man hummed, and although you were no longer looking at him, you could feel his eyes on you.

“The last guest checked out hours ago, so the whole inn will be nice and quiet for whatever work you need to do. That is, provided our daughter sleeps through the night,” he jested.

Your eyes widened, having had no intentions of mentioning that to your guest…ever. You did not dare look at him and overwhelmed with the emotions that seeing him brought on, you clutched your stomach, feigning sick as you stepped back.

“I’ve grown a bit weary. I think I will call it a night,” you told your husband.

His face twisted with concern, and you felt a tad guilty, but your uneasiness from Sherlock’s hard stare was more pressing. Your husband, the sweetheart that he was, placed a hand on your back as he ushered you towards the stairs.

“Of course, dear. You only had the baby months ago, you should not be up on your feet so much, anyway,” he quietly told you, sending you off with a kiss on the cheek.

You slowly took the stairs, hearing him continue his conversation with the man you had hoped to never see again. Your legs shook with every step, and the more you blinked, the faster the tears collected in your eyes. Despite the fact that your husband had yet to cease his rambling, you could still feel Sherlock’s gaze on your back as hot as it always was. As it always had been.

Relief did not find you even all the way up on the third floor. You pressed your back to the door as soon as you made it to your bedroom, and you swallowed hard, fighting to hold in a scream. You had forced yourself to make peace with the everything, with your own decisions. You never thought that you would be able to, but you did, and right when you seemed to be okay, the man who had caused it all slithered back into your life, his presence mocking you.

A soft gurgle from the crib reached your ears, and you pushed yourself away from the door, reminding yourself that it was not just you anymore. Her face was twisted in discomfort, features only smoothing out when you took her into your arms. The mattress creaked under your weight as you sat down, making yourself comfortable with your back to the headboard. Your knees were bent, your daughter resting against your legs as you both stared at one another. Her tiny hand wrapped around your finger, and your heart clenched as you stared into her eyes, a familiar shade of blue staring back at you.

You avoided leaving your room as much as you could. Your husband was the one who mostly dealt with the inn anyway, but you had enjoyed greeting and interacting with the guests. Until recently. Oddly enough, Sherlock was your only guest for the next two days, and you wondered if you were cursed. There were no other guests to tend to, no other guests to distract you, and you could not feign ill forever. You regularly interacted with the guests, and your husband would start to find your behavior odd.

You had genuinely thought you’d never see the famous detective again. You had fought to marry someone as far away from your hometown as you possibly could, determined to distance yourself as much as you could from the place you had both grown up in. Not only to avoid ever seeing him again, but also because it was far too painful. How funny it was to think that if you had stayed, you probably would have achieved what you set out to do.

It was the third day since he had checked into the inn, and unable to sleep in the early hours of the morning, you opted for getting an early start on breakfast. Your husband and daughter were still fast asleep, and perhaps you could be done before your only guest arose. You had no idea what case he was in town for. You had made it a habit to avoid the papers, and perhaps that was why you had been blindsided by his sudden appearance.

You had only been in the kitchen for a matter of minutes when the subject of your thoughts joined you.

You paused in what you were doing, not expecting him while he, on the other hand, seemed to have been waiting up for you. He was dressed as nicely as always, and that pensive look that he always seemed to sport was replaced by a troubled one. You watched as his hand flexed, and you were reminded how they had felt on you once. Forcing those thoughts from your mind, you gathered yourself.

“Mr. Holmes,” you greeted. “Breakfast will be a while.”

You both knew that he had not come down for food, but you turned away from him anyway to continue your work. It was quiet for a while as he stood there, watching you work. He was making you nervous, like always, and it was only when you realized that you were making no progress did he finally speak.

“You are married now.”

You paused, swallowing with a heavy chest. It was not a question. Not even really a statement, but more like an accusation. With a heavy sigh, you turned your head, barely looking over your shoulder at him as you rested your hands on the table.

“Did you think I was going to wait for you forever?”

You were met with silence, and you shook your head.

“You knew how I felt about you,” you said, kneading the dough. “How I felt since we were mere children. A woman does not have the luxury of keeping her options open. Decisions had to be made.”

You heard him step closer, and you visibly winced, shoulders tensing up.

“Do you love him?”

You frowned, spinning around to face him, chest clenching as your insides twisted.

“What kind of question is that?”

“One you have yet to answer,” he murmured, taking another step towards you.

You scoffed.

“My husband is kind and selfless and he is positively crazy about me. I would be silly not to love him,” you replied.

The blue-eyed man before you threw you a crooked smile, but it lacked humor.

“You still did not answer the question.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked away.

“What does it matter to you?”

“He says the two of you have been married for a year. The last time I saw you was a little over a year ago... How quickly you-.”

“You do not get to do that, Sherlock Holmes,” you snapped, fighting to keep your voice low.

You cursed yourself for the way your voice cracked, and you frantically blinked away tears. You stumbled back when he took another step towards you, bumping into the table in the process.

“I did nothing but wait around for you for years while you ran off solving case after case and made a name for yourself. I never faulted you for that…just myself for being so incredibly stupid…”

Your eyes met his again, surprised to see anger in them because you could not remember a time the man had ever been angry. It was alright with you though. You were angry too.

“I never once hid my feelings for you…and it got to a point where I could no longer wait for you to do something about it. Something legitimate anyway,” you quietly added.

Having grown up with the man, it was hard not to fall for his intellect, his looks. He was always polite to you, and you always looked at him like he hung the moon. You were not the only one though. You knew that you were one of the many. Your feelings for him had never been a secret, and his lack of reciprocity led you to believe that your love for the man would always be unrequited just like all the other girls. Until it wasn’t.

You could never pinpoint when it had happened, but he had kissed you one day, and it seemed that he could never bring himself to stop kissing you. Until of course, he had to leave again, leaving you behind to wait for his return…whenever that would be. For years this spanned. Spending days, weeks at the most, with him, wrapped up in each other both figuratively and literally until his profession pulled him away from you again and again. It broke your heart every time, but you told yourself that it would not be for naught. You told yourself that he just needed time.

You constantly told yourself that until the day you were out of time.

“Does he know?”

Some of the hardness in his eyes had seeped away, giving way to a fire that you knew all too well. With the table at the back of your legs, you realized that you had nowhere to go as he neared you. The man was always so big, and while you had appreciated that once, it only worried you now. He continued when you refused to respond.

“Does he know that you were mine before he even laid eyes on you?”

Your frown deepened, hating the way he talked about you, but you could not deny the way his words spoke to a part of you that you had tried so hard to bury.

“Does he know that you will always bear the mark of my touch? That your body will always remember the first who played it so well?”

“Stop,” you choked out. “You…you cannot do this.”

It was painful to hear him talk about how he had been your first. How you had given yourself to him wholeheartedly, sure that you would never regret it.

“Why not? Why can I not remind you that you are mine? That you will always be mine?”

He sounded pained, a first for him, and you realized that deep down past the possession and anger…Sherlock was hurt. Maybe all he really needed was time, but life had happened, and you had been forced to make decisions that you did not necessarily care for. Straightening yourself, you stared into his eyes, finding the reflection of you in them.

“…because I am not yours. Not anymore.”

You brushed past him before he could respond, determined to wipe your face and gather yourself before your husband woke up.

Another day passed, and then another, and Sherlock was still here. You had a sneaking suspicion that he was hanging around for more than just another case to solve. Your husband, none the wiser, was more than happy to entertain the renowned detective for as long as he needed. You, on the other hand, felt like you had died and gone straight to hell.

Sherlock’s presence brought up memories you would rather forget. His very face forced you to remember the decisions you had made to avoid a life of ruin, forced you to remember the lie you were currently living. You found yourself crying yourself to sleep now as much as you did in the beginning, and for that, you hated him. You just wanted him to leave and pray that you would never see him again.

The universe or God or whatever higher power controlled the puppet strings to your life had other plans.

It was late in the night when your daughter woke up out of her sleep. Your husband groaned next to you, but you whispered to him that you would deal with it. She did not seem to be hungry, so you took to walking throughout the inn to calm her. She liked that. You strolled up and down the stairs, through the entrance hall, the kitchen, any crevice of the building until she fell into a quiet hush, staring up at you as you hummed.

You were in the sitting room, swaying from side to side, hoping to rock her back to sleep. You loved her dearly, more than you loved yourself, but you loved your sleep almost as much. You cracked a small smile, watching as she ran her eyes over you before something behind you caught her attention. You felt him before you heard him, and you spun around to face the last person you wished to see.

His white shirt was rumpled, and you figured that he had inadvertently fallen asleep at some point. Your wide eyes were on him as he stood before you in all of his glory, and you absentmindedly tightened your hold on your daughter. Neither one of you said a word. You had nothing to say, but there did seem to be something weighing on his mind, although for some reason, he would not voice it. You found yourself eyeing the curls of his hair, his fair complexion and handsome bone structure. The top of his shirt was undone, a sliver of skin winking at you, and you sharply inhaled.

You were still very much in love with Sherlock Holmes.

Would you ever truly be free of him?

As your daughter squirmed in your arms, you were reminded that no, you would not. The man could leave tomorrow, and you could truly get your wish of never seeing him again, and you would still never be free. Her movements grabbed his attention, and as his eyes fell to the baby in your arms, you hated the way he looked at her.

As if he was studying her like one of his cases that needed to be solved.

However, with horror, you realized that he was studying her. You tried to shield her, backing away in the process, but he followed you. His dark brows furrowed, eyes narrowing as he ran them over your daughter. When you passed through the moonlight, the glow catching her eyes, his face hardened, jaw ticking so violently you worried that he would break a tooth.

His eyes snapped to yours, and you could not even find it in yourself to look away. You were frozen. His lips parted, and you feared what he would say, but the sound of your husband’s steps descending the stairs saved you. In only a moment, Sherlock was on the other side of the room, and your husband was there, apologizing to the man if your daughter woke him up.

“Nonsense. I was already awake,” Sherlock told him, and you had a feeling that it was not a lie.

Still, your husband, the kind man that he was, continued to apologize, and you took the opportunity to escape. You could feel Sherlock’s gaze the entire time, fiery and oppressive, and it should not have come as a shock to wake up to him in your bedroom.

Yet somehow, it was.

You should have known something was off when you woke up feeling more well rested than you had in months. The familiar cry of your daughter, a noise that regularly roused you from sleep, was oddly absent. This was what made you realize why you had slept for so long. Upon realizing this, your body immediately filled with worry, and you sat up like the house was on fire.

However, you were not prepared for the hulking frame that was Sherlock Holmes to greet you. He stood by your daughter’s crib, and your heart dropped to your stomach as you slowly slid to the edge of the bed. You shakily reached for him, his name on your lips, and he turned around. You sharply inhaled at the sight of your daughter in his arms, the small thing looking so much smaller while being held in his bands of muscle.

“Give her to me…please,” you whispered.

You did not know why you wanted him away from her. He knew the truth, and as if reading your thoughts, he said:

“Why? Is it not within my rights to hold her? She is mine…is she not?”

His voice was venomous, eyes icy as he looked to you, and you flinched. You settled back down on the bed, shrinking in on yourself as he glared at you. You did not know what to say. What could you say? In the light of day, it was obvious more than ever who her true father was. Why on earth were you feeling guilty? You had no reason to.

“Does he know?” he suddenly asked you, voice low and softer now.

“Of course not,” you tearfully replied.

You hated lying to your husband, but choices had to be made to protect her, to give her a good life. Sherlock heaved a shaky sigh, and you twisted your hands into your nightdress.

“Where is he?”

“He’s gone to town…said he needed to get some things for the inn,” he answered.

You were somehow simultaneously relieved and terrified.

“Sherlock-.”

“So, this is why you married him,” he bitterly said. “This is why you rushed to take his name and forget me so easily.”

“You have no right,” you sneered, standing and rushing towards him.

He moved back, keeping her away from you, and you were tempted to stomp your foot like a child.

“You kept her from me,” he accused, blue eyes boring into your own, and your skin prickled under his cold stare.

“I would not expect you to understand,” you told him.

His handsome face twisted into something ugly, and he stepped towards you.

“Why did you not tell me?”

You sneered at him.

“When was I supposed to do that? I would see you what…3, maybe 4 times a year if I was lucky?”

“You could have written to me!”

She squirmed in his arms, making a noise of protest, and you reached out, shushing her, but again, he held her out of your reach. You clenched your hands into fists, chest aching as he forced you to talk about what you had done.

“…and how was I to find you? How was I to know you would receive my letter in time? You were gallivanting all over the country, Sherlock. I would have been showing by the time I waited for you to turn up.”

He at least had the decency to look a tad sheepish, and he glanced down at the baby in his arms.

“Of course, you do not get it. You are not a woman. I did not have time or options. Decisions had to be made for both me and my daughter’s sake, and unfortunately, they had to be made without you.”

He did not respond, and you watched the way he looked at her. When you had first found out, this was everything you had wanted. You had dreamed of him looking at her just like that, but then reality had set in and crushed those dreams. Reluctantly, he handed her back to you, and you pressed your lips to her forehead. You felt his large hand on the top of your head, and when you looked up, his eyes were on you.

“Leave with me,” he whispered.

Pain etched across your features, and you shook your head.

“I cannot.”

“Yes, you can. She is mine, not his, and you love me…not him.”

You did not acknowledge the fact that he saw right through you no matter how much you pretended otherwise. Again, you shook your head and backed away from him.

“I cannot do that to him. He is a good man, and he does not deserve that,” you told him.

Sherlock stepped towards you until his body heat was all you could feel, and you looked down, avoiding his eye.

“So, am I to leave? Never to see you again and just allow him to raise my daughter as his own? Forget about you?”

“Yes.”

You regretted it almost as soon as you said it, but what else could you do? Running away with him was not an option. People would talk. Ruin would follow your name, and anything between you and the man before you would not be legitimate. You had to think of your daughter first. Before he could say anything else, the sound of the front door opening reached your ears, and your wide eyes found his.

You did not say anything, but you silently begged him to do what you wanted. Sherlock looked as if he wanted to do the complete opposite of what you wanted, face troubled and brows furrowed, but eventually, he relented. Reluctantly, he stepped back and exited your room, slipping downstairs and into his own.

Sherlock stayed at your inn for a little over a week, only 2 other guests passing through in that time. When your husband was gone, you allowed him to hold your daughter, and you had no idea how much you would be affected by the sight of the burly man holding the doll sized child in his arms. You knew that it got harder and harder for him to hand her back to you, and you worried what would happen when it came time for him to leave.

She was currently with him now while you cleaned one of the rooms that a guest had stayed in. Your husband had gone to get ingredients for the kitchen, and you were relieved to be alone with your thoughts. Not once had you ever regretted your decisions, but now you were having second thoughts. You would love for your daughter to grow up with her real father in her life, but it just would not be possible. There were so many things that you wanted that were no longer possible. It was bittersweet, sure, but you were glad that Sherlock got to know her for a short time versus having never known her at all.

You had just stripped the bed, turning to get more sheets when you were startled by the man himself in the doorway. You pressed your hand to your chest, fighting to slow your heart as you curiously looked at him. Your brows furrowed as you looked for your daughter.

“She’s asleep,” he said, answering your silent question.

“Oh,” you responded, relieved. “Is something wrong?”

He pursed his lips, stepping into the room, and you blinked at him.

“I cannot do it,” he suddenly said, shaking his head.

Dread settled in your gut, but you pressed him for the answers that you already knew.

“What do you mean…?”

He neared you, and you leaned back a bit at his close proximity.

“You cannot ask this of me-.”

“Sherlock-.”

“I will not do it. I will not just walk away!”

“You have to-!”

“That is my daughter. That is our daughter. You expect me to just go on and pretend that she does not exist?”

You looked away from him, overwhelmed with panic as he wrapped his hands around your arms.

“You both will leave with me,” he whispered. “I will right my wrongs-.”

“I cannot-.”

“I do not care about him. He is nothing to me,” he sneered. “He is the man who has laid claim to something that does not belong to him.”

“I am not yours anymore!”

You both stared each other down, and you frowned when he pushed you back until you felt the wall behind you. His eyes were wild with so many emotions. Anger, pain, desperation, jealousy, and the one that was a constant when he was with you, hunger.

“You will always be mine,” he murmured, leaning in.

You turned your head away, and his lips met your cheek.

“You surrendered your body to me, and it has been mine ever since. I was the first to touch you…and I shall be the last.”

His lips found yours against your will, and with his hands on your arms, you could not push him away. You had forgotten what his lips felt like, what he tasted like, but none of that mattered because you were a married woman now. Sherlock was your past and that was where he needed to remain. You opened your mouth to tell him that, to protest, but he merely took the opportunity to reacquaint himself with the taste of your tongue.

He released you only to press his hands onto your hips, and you pushed against his chest. His moan told you that it had no effect, and your panic grew when he stepped back, pulling you with him. His hands were everywhere as you fought against him, and although your mind protested what was happening, your body, having been accustomed to his euphoric touch for so long, melted under the familiar ministrations.

He had you on your back in no time, tearing your dress off of you with ease. Your pleas fell on deaf ears, the man before you equal to that of a man starved, and his eyes and mouth and hands had one goal in mind and that was to get inside of you in any way possible.

“We cannot do this,” you gasped the minute he pulled away, but it was as if he did not hear you. “Sherlock!”

Your efforts to get him off of you only increased when you realized that he was almost as naked as you were. His lips tasted your neck and chest, and you sharply yelped when his teeth nipped at you.

“I have half a mind to mark your skin as you have marked my soul,” he whispered. “…to show that husband of yours what it truly means to claim you.”

You pressed your nails into his chest when he slid inside of you, hips meeting yours in a way that you had not felt for over a year. A satisfied moan left him, and you could not stop the way you clenched around his length, your body missing the feel of him. Still, you pushed against him, shaking your head with tear-filled eyes as he began to move. The next time you opened your mouth to protest, a choked moan came out instead, and you sunk your teeth into your lip.

“Feel the way you cling to me…the way your body loosens up to what it knows so well.”

He was right. He knew how to play your body like an instrument, knowing exactly what to do to make you sing, but that did not make it right. Your hands pushing against his shoulders and chest were of no use, and so you resorted to begging.

“Please…stop,” you pleaded in between breaths, but he merely shook his head.

“No,” he plainly said, hands greedily pressing into some of the baby weight that remained. “I have gone without you for far too long, and that is a mistake I will never make again.”

Your body was on fire from his thrusts, and you were hardly coherent enough o be having this conversation.

“You cannot just…you cannot just steal us away-.”

“I cannot steal what is rightfully mine,” he purred, wrapping his lips around a hardened bud.

Your lashes fluttered, and you dug your nails into his skin, pushing against him, but again, he was immoveable. Your vision was blurry from your tears now, and you squeezed your eyes shut when he completely fell over you, arms pressed into the bed beside your head, caging you in until all you could see and smell was him.

You reminded of your first time. It had been nighttime then, and he had ordered you to relax and take what pleasure he bestowed upon you. He had taken his time to figure out what your body liked and what your body loved, but he had been completely in control. Now seemed no different. Sherlock was once again completely in control of your body, forcing you to accept whatever pleasure he pushed onto you.

Someone could have entered the inn, looking for a place to stay, and you would not have known. Your husband could have long returned, and you would be none the wiser. He kissed you, a gentle action that was a far cry from his powerful thrusts, and you could taste your tears on his lips.

“I would have come running,” he suddenly whispered into your mouth. “The second I found out, I would have come for you.”

His eyes flitted between your terrified ones, and he continued.

“I would have made an honest woman out of you. I would have been by your side every step of the way.”

You shook your head, not wanting to hear what could have been.

“I would have loved to see you round and swollen with my daughter, but this is our second chance.”

You came around him before he soon followed, coating your insides with a groan, lips furiously covering your own. You were so conflicted. Your body felt more satisfied than it had been in a year, heart swelling at the thought of getting the future you really wanted, but you were so angry with him, angry with what he had just done to you.

You hit at him the minute he pulled out of you, sitting up and taking you with him. It was as if your hits did not phase him at all, and he merely shushed you, wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you into his chest.

“I will do the talking,” he started, pressing his lips into your hair, ignoring the way you cried and shook in his hold. “I will explain to him that I am taking back what is mine, and I will walk out of here with you and our daughter at my side, right where you belong.”

tags: @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @harryspet @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @trinittyy @hyoyeoniie @kellyn1604 @sherrybaby14 @cocoamoonmalfoy @mandiiblanche @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @sapphirescrolls @threeminutesoflife @searchforanotherway

#dark!sherlock holmes #dark sherlock holmes #Dark Fic #sherlock x reader #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #Sherlock Holmes #henry cavill

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nobodyfamousposts · 4 years ago

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My-Crack-ulous: Aku-Maid

In which I am a horrible person...

No seriously. Don’t read this.

For @mermain123, for bringing up the cursed image that started this mess in the first place.

Mermain: i said i was suffering

Mermain: i didn't want you to make the internet suffer

Me: That sounds like the internet’s problem.

Also for @bloody-writes. You know why... ; )

_________________________

Hawk Moth was a supervillain who had been terrorizing Paris for the better part of two years.

But no one could really argue that not all of his ideas have been good. Or well thought out. Or in any way sensible even.

Like the time he akumatized a baby.

Or the time he akumatized a girl to transform people into exact replicas of herself.

Or the fact he keeps akumatizing Mr. Ramier for going on 29 times at this point…

Or the other time he akumatized a baby…

Times that he destroyed Paris. Times that he nearly destroyed the world. Times that he gave people powers that were completely contradictory to the goals of getting the Miraculous he was after by erasing the heroes from existence or transforming them in ways that made the Miraculous inaccessible.

But none of his akumatizations had ever gotten him as much hate, caused as much misery, were were ultimately as pointless as this most recent incident.

Aku-maid.

It was known the instant she was akumatized. As soon as she was transformed, a wave of power enveloped the city. And within that wave, half of the people of Paris were transformed as well.

…the male half.

Her power was to transform all the men of Paris. She didn’t even have a weapon or attack that did it, it just happened almost instantaneously. All men suddenly found themselves changed.

Or rather, their outfits…

“Ah!”

“What the hell—!?”

“I can’t get it off!”

One by one, every male in Paris suddenly found themselves in a much different state of attire. What had just been a normal day full of various styles and appearances had all suddenly become very…frilly.

“WHY AM I A MAID?!”

Much as implied her namesake, the akuma’s power involved transforming whatever any man was wearing into some variation of a maid outfit.

Every man.

All over Paris.

From Andre Bourgeois, who has refused to leave his office to make an official statement…

“ANDRE!” Audrey shouted, banging on the door. “Get out here this instant!”

“But, honey, I can’t be seen like this!”

To Roger Raincomprix, who has tried to continue his normal duties despite the…change of uniform…

“Stop in the name of the law!” Roger shouted, reaching into his pockets in an automatic reaction to try to get his handcuffs. While the dress he was wearing did still have pockets, the only item they procured was a cleaning rag, which was notably less threatening as the suspect in question stared for a moment before deciding to take off.

��HEY!”

And yes, even to…

“I’m a Macrophage!” Adrien gushed happily as he lifted his lengthy skirt to give a twirl.

…even to Adrien Agreste, who was apparently the only one to find anything pleasant about the current crisis.

Nino stared.

“Dude. Seriously?”

“I’ve always wanted to cosplay!”

Nino, having been long-since exposed to his friend’s deep love for anime in its many forms, at least knew what a Macrophage was. But even so, he couldn’t help but feel there was something odd about the way Adrien took to the long pale dress and cap.

Kim rested a hand on Nino’s shoulder. “Just let the guy enjoy this.”

“At least somebody is.” Nathaniel muttered bitterly as he tried to hide as behind his sketchbook. It was a futile attempt, of course, as he at most only covered his face, leaving the red dress, white apron with pockets, and knee-high boots on full display.

“I don’t understand how he can.” Max complained. He tugged at his own skirt in vain, looking at Adrien’s ankle-length ensemble enviously. The skirt was much shorter than he would have liked—reaching a couple inches above his thigh and almost seemed to be defying gravity to stay that way despite his attempts to get it to either flatten or otherwise lower. “I question the design choices.”

“But you look just like Misaki from Maid Sama! And Nathaniel looks like Lizbeth!” Adrien insisted. “It’s totally a cosplay!”

Max just stared incredulously. He was wearing a black dress with puffy sleeves that tapered off just shy of his elbow, white apron, a cap, and thigh-high black stockings and knee-high boots, it seemed Adrien did have a point.

Max, in all fairness, didn’t particularly care in favor of the problems that came with suddenly finding himself in a short dress, heels, and a corset.

“I just can’t peg where Kim or Nino’s outfits are from.” He continued, studying the outfits in question contemplatively. “But give me a little time! It’ll come to me!”

The boys had been having an afternoon hangout session in the park. No girls. No teachers. No Gabriel Agreste or bodyguards to whisk certain teen models away. It was supposed to be a normal non-drama-filled day.

…which was naturally when it became something less than normal and certainly more than drama-filled.

“I think I get why girls complain about this sort of thing now.” Kim said, looking at his shoes. “These heels are kind of uncomfortable…”

“Are you sure it’s the heels and not the flippers?” Nino asked, annoyed.

Sure enough, Kim was wearing flipper-heels. They were black and also had black ankle straps with a little bow on each. This strange footwear did seem to go with Kim’s talent in swimming, which was also emphasized by the ruffle maid swimsuit they matched with.

“Nah, it’s definitely the heels.” Kim insisted.

So this was what their all-boys’ afternoon had come to.

Kim was wobbling on unsteady heels.

Nathaniel groaned and kept his ever reddening face covered.

Max was questioning where they could procure jackets. Long jackets.

Adrien was giggling to himself and asking if they could do a full Cells at Work group cosplay.

And Nino paled, suddenly realizing something.

"Guys. Guys, we have to hide!"

"Why?" Kim asked. "It's annoying, but this akuma doesn't seem really dangerous."

"No, you don't get it!" Nino hissed. "If Alya catches us, we will NEVER live this down!"

Nathaniel looked over the edge of his sketchbook. “Alya wouldn’t actually post pictures of us to the Ladyblog, would she?”

A long pause followed.

The boys paled.

Except for Adrien, who turned to them with a gasp of excitement. “Do you think she would? We could do a group picture!”

All the other boys paled even more, looking downright ill.

And immediately took off running.

Or at least as well as they could with heels. None of them made it very far without tripping, stumbling, or simply struggling to stay upright as they still tried to move away from the area as quickly as the heels would allow.

“But what’s wrong with—?”

“JUST RUN, ADRIEN!”

“Who thought maid outfits with high heels was a good idea?! How can anyone be expected to clean in these things?

“I will never draw high heels on a super heroine again.”

“I can’t breathe! Who created corsets?! What objective does this achieve besides crushing one’s lungs?”

Nino groaned, still running. “I hope Hawk Moth is suffering as much as we are!”

_____________________

If Nino Lahiffe had the ability to break the fourth wall and peer into the events happening outside of his immediate vicinity, he would be happy to find this was actually the case.

And he would laugh.

Oh, how he would laugh.

“Sir…?”

“Don’t.” Came the dark growl from a very unhappy supervillain. “Don’t say anything, Nathalie..."

This was an akuma that impacted every male in Paris. Every male.

…even to Hawk Moth, himself.

“Why did this happen?”

It would appear that even Hawk Moth was not immune to Aku-Maid’s power as he had been similarly transformed. And unfortunately, due to the change, he could no longer access his Miraculous. The Butterfly broach had disappeared, having been transformed along with his outfit.

And his outfit had…actually left much to be desired.

Which was truthfully just a nice way of saying it was ugly.

Really, really ugly.

Normally the picture of stoicism, Nathalie had to pretend to cough to avoid reacting.

“Can’t you order the akuma to undo it?” She eventually was able to ask.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes in concentration. “No. It’s no good. I’ve lost the link!”

His eyes widened and he clutched his chest in a panic.

“Where is the Miraculous?!” Hawk Moth demanded, trying—and failing to pull at the tasteless dress. But as others across the city had already discovered, the clothes were magic and would not be removed or displaced. Not even the frock or the cap he now wore.

“Sir, you were transformed when you changed. It looks like the Butterfly Miraculous was transformed along with you.”

He froze, eyes widening in horror. “But that’s—”

He grasped at the empty place on his chest. Where once had been his lapel and pin now only had ruffles and a leathery texture. His mask remained in place, though it was now fully black except for the openings around his eyes and mouth, which were bordered with a lighter grey color. The material and outfit overall had a shine to it that could be found on any wetsuit.

To put it nicely: he looked atrocious.

To put it bluntly: he looked like some sort of BDSM role-player with a maid kink.

So it was fortunate, perhaps, that no one else in Paris would have to be subject to the sight.

Except Nathalie. Who was probably going to have nightmares.

Or a coronary from the laughter she was trying to hold back.

It was admittedly a bit hard to tell.

But it seemed she was handling the situation a bit better than Hawk Moth, despite the fact that the man was currently unable to see himself or the full extent of the monstrosity he now wore.

…this was probably for the best. Given the man’s fashion sense, there was really no telling whether he would be horrified or inspired, and nobody would want to find out.

“I can’t contact the akuma! And I can’t call it back!”

He moaned, covering his…already covered face with his hands. “I’ll never be taken seriously again!”

Nathalie resolutely held back from pointing out he was barely being taken seriously now.

“It’s…not that bad?” She tried. Not very well, but she tried.

Hawk Moth clutched his head in horror. “Unless Ladybug and Chat Noir can stop this akuma, we’re doomed!”

“Sir, it’s just an akuma that puts men in maid outfits. It’s really not that bad.”

“DOOOOOOMED!!!”

__________________________

The akuma, for her part, was unaware of her benefactor’s misery, too busy enjoying the abject misery of everyone else around her.

Nobody knew just what had set the girl off to get her akumatized in the first place. Her comments about men being “the eye-candy now” suggested an argument. The maid outfits involved suggested what the topic of the argument had been regarding.

To be honest, nobody had actually realized she was the akuma responsible. She did appear fairly normal by akuma terms, dressed in a seemingly authentic Victorian era dress more befitting as an authentic Lady’s Maid compared the frillier, lacier varieties that the men around her had suddenly found themselves in. What would normally have gotten her a few odds looks was mostly ignored in the face of the sudden change. Few even took notice of her dark purple skin or black hair. Or the fan in her hand.

“THAT’S RIGHT! SEE HOW YOU LIKE BEING OBJECTIFIED!”

The yelling…was a bit harder to miss.

It was the first thing that drew the attention of the three girls settled at the cafe.

The second thing was the various cries of horror as several of the men around them suddenly discovered their state of dress transformed into…well…dresses. Of a variety that made the little cafe appear more like a maid cafe than anything.

The third thing was the appearance of a familiar face running down the road, holding up his long white dress to make running easier as he looked for a place to hide.

Marinette stared.

“ADRIEN?!”

Adrien Agreste was running around in a long white and pale cream Victorian-era dress and cap, looking like Cinderella running from the ball. Except a maid.

A quick glance to her companions showed that both Alya and Kagami were similarly staring in befuddlement, so this was neither her imagination or a fever dream.

“Adrien? What’s going on?” Alya asked for everyone.

“It’s an akuma!” He replied, quickly. “She’s putting everybody into cosplay!”

“…cosplay?”

“Yeah!”

“…everybody?”

He paused, glancing around. “Well…all the guys, I think?”

Marinette stared.

“…Just that?” Alya asked, thankfully taking over while Marinette’s brain started to become aware that this WAS Adrien she was talking to. “She’s not doing anything else besides putting guys into…‘cosplays’?”

He blinked in confusion. “I…think so?”

“She isn’t…I don’t know…commanding you or anything?”

“Well, she hasn’t yet. Which, really, isn’t so bad for an akuma if you think about it.” He said with a frown before he noticed the strange look on Kagami’s face. “Kagami, are you okay?”

Kagami made a strangled sound.

“Marinette?”

Marinette pretended to choke on a drink from an empty glass to avoid speaking.

“Can I add to your order?” The waiter came by, seeming unconcerned by the ruckus or the act that he was now wearing a rather cutesy maid outfit the likes of which would be seen in a maid cafe in Japan.

“You don’t seem put off by this.” Alya pointed out, noting his relatively unfazed attitude compared to the panicking of the other men around them…or the gushing from Adrien.

The waiter took it in stride.

“It’s okay.” He replied blankly. “I’m already dead inside.”

“Oh.”

He turned to Kagami. “Do you need anything else, Miss?”

Kagami was still staring at Adrien, blushing furiously.

“I think I have a problem.”

“You mean a kink?”

“A. Problem.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“Story of my life.” The waiter replied as he refilled her glass of water, either unaware or uncaring of the specific nature of her trouble.

Alya gasped in sudden realization. “Wait! If this is happening here then…” She turned to Adrien. “Where were Nino and the boys?” He blinked, curious. “Oh, they decided to head home. Why?”

An almost sinister smirk formed on Alya’s face. One that would have anyone it was directed at cowering in fear. And strong enough to be felt from several blocks away.

Unbeknownst to them, Nino felt that smirk like a trail of cold fingers down his back, and promptly threw himself into his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

As if she sensed this, Alya slammed several bills on the table and dashed out the door.

“GOTTA GO!”

Realizing an akuma was about, Marinette was right on her heels. She found a nearby alleyway and immediately prepared to transform and face this latest threat.

“Oh my god. OH MY GOD.” She broke down, letting out the laughter she’d been trying so hard to hold in. “He’s a dork! The boy I’m crushing on is a complete DORK who is in to cosplaying! He thinks maid outfits are COSPLAY!”

…or she would be.

“And here I’ve been driving myself nuts with anxiety over just asking him out and he doesn’t even—”

Any minute now…

“Marinette!” Tikki hissed. “You need to stop the akuma!”

“Can’t I just take a picture first?”

“MARINETTE!”

“Oh fine…”

_____________________

Luka didn’t realize anything had happened. He felt a bit off balanced for a moment, and a bit colder, but attributed that to being on the Liberty. So he simply shifted his stance to be a bit more steady and continued playing. It wasn’t until the drum stopped that he realized something was actually wrong.

The look of shock from Mylene and the following shriek from Ivan cemented it.

He spun around, not sure what could have elicited such a cry from his fellow bandmate. And at first, he couldn’t really tell what had happened. Ivan was crouched behind the drum set, covering his face with his hands and trembling in what appeared to be mortification.

Then he noticed the mobcap on Ivan’s head, which he was pretty sure hadn’t been there before. And Ivan’s shirt seemed distinctly…fluffier and frillier than he remembered seeing a few minutes ago. He tried to move closer to offer help, only for his own balance to be off. And when he looked down…

Oh.

The dress was new.

As were the stockings.

And the notably thinner and sleeker heels on his boots.

He hummed to himself, considering the change.

“Akuma?” Juleka asked him.

“Most likely.” He replied.

Mylene had rushed up to their practice stage and to Ivan’s side, even as he moaned for her to not look at him. The poor guy was completely red in embarrassment. Seeing how upset he was, the other three had backed away, leaving Mylene to try to help her boyfriend.

“Luka, are you okay?” Rose asked worriedly, trying to respect Ivan’s need for space while also checking in on their other effected bandmate.

“I’m fine. It was just a surprise at first.” He replied.

It wasn’t every day that you suddenly found yourself in a maid outfit, after all. It was a simple outfit. White off the shoulder puffy sleeves with black frills. A black tube skirt. White apron. And…he reached to his neck where a weight was, feeling a choker.

Huh…

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Honestly, he could be in worse.

Rose seemed surprised at that. “Really? Even with those shoes?”

He looked down at the shoes in question. The boots were his style—surprisingly, given it was an akuma. The higher heels were definitely different from his norm, and clearly what Rose was referring to. In any other circumstances, she would be right.

But...

Luka smiled, shifting his stance and resting a hand on his hip. “Well, someone had to teach Jules to walk in heels. And I couldn’t show her if I didn’t know how myself.

Juleka huffed. “Don’t say that like you didn’t enjoy playing dress up.”

Luka merely curtsied, not only showing off more of his slightly ripped and punk-looking fishnet stockings, but almost proudly displaying his ability to move fluently in heels.

Rose appropriately “oo-ed” and “aah-ed” at his display. Juleka merely shook her head and smiled. Ivan was still recovering from his panic attack and had resolutely refused to come out from behind the drums, despite Mylene’s reassurances.

“So it has to be an akuma, right?” Rose asked.

“If it is, I want a picture or two, at least.” Juleka muttered as she admired Luka’s outfit, mumbling about commissioning Marinette to recreate it in her size. She hadn’t known maids could come in this style.

Mylene nodded from her place at Ivan’s side. “Though it seems rather fortunate if this is all the akuma is doing.”

“We don’t know if that is it, though.” Luka warned. “For all we know, there could be some other ability she has if she catches us. It would probably be safer if we hid out inside until this is over.”

The others agreed. And Anarka, bless her soul, actually came up with a large blanket for Ivan to wrap himself in to preserve his dignity. Then she and Mylene helped the taller teen to safely relocate to inside. Much like Luka, Ivan’s shoes had changed, but he was substantially less able to maneuver in them. And no amount of effort or force on his part could seem to separate the heels from his feet.

Once he and the others were inside, Luka moved to follow. He hesitated, however, at the sound of something landing behind him.

“Viperion? We’ll need your help.”

He turned to see Ladybug standing tall. And was that perhaps a hint of blush on her face?

Oh.

A shame.

It looked like Juleka wouldn’t be getting her pictures, after all...

_____________________

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

He shuddered, backing away from the door as far as possible.

“Ninoooooo…”

It was a fight for survival.

“C’mon, Nino. Just open the door.”

The survival of his dignity, but still!

He’d lost track of the others and immediately rushed home and to the safety of his room. His room, which he could lock and hide away in until this all blew over.

“I have a key!” Came Chris’s voice. “Somewhere…”

“Give it and I won’t take any pictures of you.”

“Deal!”

His room, which his traitorous little brother was willing to allow the enemy entry into.

Under any normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be this desperate. But if Alya caught him like this…

Black dress. Puffy at the shoulder, sleeves that extended to his wrists and were bound by white cuffs. A white smock tied back with a white ribbon. White bow at the neck and white frills along the bottom of the dress?

Oh yeah…Alya would never let this go…

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten into all those anime Adrien pushed him into! So what if the maids were cute? And sure, he’d admit he's had a thought or two of Alya in such attire...

But how was he supposed to know Alya had such thoughts as well? And in the complete opposite direction! Clearly this was the akuma’s magic punishing him!

Nino looked to his window.

It would be a long fall, but it was his only escape.

But would the broken legs be worth it when Alya would soon figure out what he did and be able to catch up to him easily?

Maybe he could try to climb up instead…but in these heels? It was suicide!

“Fufufu!”

…screw it.

He opened up his window, only to meet a new pair of eyes.

Ladybug stared in surprise from her place at his windowsill, a certain box in hand.

“…hi?”

“Oh thank god!” He exclaimed. He took her by her shoulders, half leaning out and half pulling her in. “Alya’s insisting on taking pictures! Please tell me you have my Miraculous with you!”

“Actually, about that—”

“I don’t care! I’ll do anything! Just please—SAVE ME!”

Ladybug looked back behind her to a distant rooftop and the other allies she’d left behind.

The sound of a key jingling could be heard and Nino stared up at her, pleadingly.

Well, she could never resist the eyes…

By the time they’d gotten the door open, the room was empty.

Nino was gone.

_____________________

Six heroes stood assembled.

Ladybug.

Chat Noir.

Carapace.

Viperion.

King Monkey.

Pegasus.

Six heroes.

Five of whom were male.

And…still wearing some semblance of feminine maid-like outfits.

Ladybug wasn’t sure if she should be impressed or worried.

“What the hell?! I thought the Miraculous were supposed to change us into our hero suits?” Nino groused.

Contrary to his hopes and expectations, using the Miraculous had not transformed him into his normal Carapace look, but had rather simply given him a different outfit. The dress itself was green and had a turtle shell pattern, while the apron and waist belts were a brown color. The bowknot around his neck was a dark green and a brown to match the apron. He wore stockings. And to his very limited relief, his shoes were flats instead of heels.

“Well, at least this skirt is longer.” Pegasus said, now wearing a dark brown blouse and bicycle skirt. The skirt went to just above his ankles, for which he was grateful. But this seemed to be countered by the increase of height to his heels.

Plus no corset. The outfit was still fit tightly and not very comfortable, but at least he could breathe now.

“Though I believe we’re getting away from maid-wear now.” Chat said, conversationally.

Pegasus gave him a flat look. “I’m not complaining.”

If Chat had witnessed his earlier ensemble, surely he would understand.

King Monkey, for his part, seemed somewhat appeased with his Miraculous suit. It was a notably more Eastern style of dress, appearing more like robes worn by palace servants. He wore a light brown waistcoat with wide sleeves over a blouse and a wrap-around skirt. It looked heavy, but Kim seemed to have no trouble with it. Maybe it was made of a lighter material…?

And Viperion’s dress was different in style as well. Whereas his maid outfit as Luka had been more punk, this was more sleek. Wearing a green sleeveless dress and white smock, as well as what appeared to be a green corset. The dress had a slit at the sides, giving more maneuverability for his legs…as well as more show, given the appearance of a garter belt and stockings. His shoes were high heeled but including a beautiful snake design that wrapped around his ankles. To finish it off, rather than remain bare, his arms were covered in what appeared to be loose green sleeves that started at his elbows and extended to his wrists.

…maybe a picture or two wouldn’t hurt? Or three? Because the amount of details on these outfits were amazing and she was just brimming with ideas now…

Ladybug broke out of her musings when someone tugged on her shoulder to get her attention.

It was Chat. Chat who, much like the other heroes, as dressed in a fantastical outfit. Though a maid outfit, it was definitely more cat-themed with a giant paw-like gloves covering his hands, a paw print on his apron, and bow and bell on his tail which rang as he shifted.

What material was that made of, anyway? She kind of wanted to give it a feel and see if she could find something to compare it to. Maybe a quick sketch?

Oh. Right.

Akuma.

Maybe if she was lucky, they could finish this quickly so she could rush back home and take notes while she still had the ideas bouncing in her brain.

…maybe someone would have gotten pictures by then…?

“Ladybug?” Chat whispered, snapping her back to reality.

“Yes?”

Chat frowned in concern. “Is the Guardian okay with this?”

Ladybug froze.

“PSST! Ladybug!” Came a voice from a nearby rooftop, drawing her attention.

“Master Fu?”

“Ladybug! Here’s the Miracle Box. Take as many allies as you can and resolve this as soon as possible!”

“Master? Are…you hiding in a box?”

“No questions! Just go!”

“…he’s fine.”

Chat seemed uncertain, but decided not to pry.

“Let’s just split up and find the akuma.” Ladybug said. “But don’t engage until we’re all together!”

With that, the six split into three groups, with Chat and Carapace going one way and King Monkey and Pegasus going another, leaving Ladybug and Viperion searching together with the former trying not to get caught stealing peeks at the latter.

“Is something wrong?” He asked with a smile.

…trying. The key word was trying not to get caught.

“No! Nothing!” She replied quickly. “I’m just…surprised that you can still move so quickly in those heels.”

“I’ve had practice.” He explained, still smiling. He even lifted one leg behind him, managing to stand perfectly balanced even on one leg in heels.

“I…see.”

Part of her wanted very much to laugh. It was the same part that had found this entire day ridiculous. The other part of her was her inner artist at work and really wanted to make a few sketches inspired from the presented outfits. Like Viperion’s sleeves…and those shoes with a snake coil wrapping around the ankle…

“Ladybug!”

Gaah! Focus!

She turned towards the shout to find King Monkey and Pegasus stumbling towards her.

Her fingers twitched. She ignored it.

“We found the akuma.” King Monkey reported. “She doesn’t seem to be doing anything. Just…kind or roaming around.”

“And laughing.” Pegasus added bitterly. “She appears to be doing a lot of that.”

“How’s THAT for ‘doll them up’?” Came a shout from street level. “HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, HUH?!”

As if on cue…

Ladybug and the others peeked over the edge of the roof.

“Has she displayed any other powers?” She asked.

“No.” Pegasus replied. “From what we could see, her power has already been activated to…obvious effect.” He hesitated, resolutely avoiding mentioning his new outfit or the indignity he’d already suffered. “She has only been laughing. And tripping the occasional person while searching for someone in particular—possibly the one responsible for her ire.”

Ladybug nodded. “At least she’s distracted and doesn’t know we’re here. We just need a plan of attack before we try to fight her.”

“No problem!” King Monkey said with a grin as he reached for his weapon. “We can just do a head on attack with our weapons and—”

They stared.

In place of his staff was a broom. A normal cleaning broom.

They sent cautious glances to each other before they checked their own inventory.

Said inventory consisted of a broom, a bucket, and a feather duster.

“I believe that constitutes as a problem.” Pegasus stated worriedly.

“That’s no fair!” King Monkey exclaimed. “Adrien was able to summon a machete!”

Ladybug blanched at that. “A what?!”

Pegasus pushed up his glasses. “I believe it’s a component of his…‘cosplay’?”

“Pfft!” Ladybug covered her mouth with her hand.

“Ladybug?”

“I-it’s nothing!” She replied hurriedly.

Viperion raised his eyebrow at her but didn’t comment.

King Monkey at least seemed to take it in stride.

“Now we just need a plan for attack!”

“With what?!” Pegasus questioned, waving the feather duster in frustration. “Our weapons don’t work!”

“More like our weapons aren’t actually weapons.” Viperion said, considering his bucket.

“I could smack her.” King Monkey offered, holding up his broom. “Maybe your feather duster has dust on it and could make her sneeze?”

Pegasus gave him a flat look.

“I think the broom is the best weapon we have right now.”

“Don’t knock a bucket!” King Monkey commanded, resolutely. “I got one stick on my head one time and it took hours to get it off! Buckets are evil, man!”

Pegasus sighed and rubbed his head. “It concerns me that you’re the second person I know whom that has happened to.”

Ladybug coughed, discretely trying to draw attention off that particular subject lest identities be at risk. “Anyway, I think I have a plan...”

______________________

To be honest, it wasn’t that difficult of an akuma. Especially not with six of them teaming up against it.

Akumaid truly see to have no ability other than the initial one of transforming what any male in Paris was wearing into something embarrassing...unless you were Adrien, apparently. Aside from that, she showed no other power—neither over the clothes themselves or the people wearing them. Well, she wasn’t controlling any of the victims or shrinking the clothing to choke them at any rate...which if you think about it, was rather lame for an akuma in the power department.

The only real disadvantage in battle came in the difficulty the boys had moving freely in their current outfits. And the afore noted lack of proper weaponry.

Their advantage of surprising was ruined by Chat’s bell ringing before they could ambush her, and both Carapace and Pegasus losing balance with their heels and falling over. King Monkey’s outfit, while longer, also meant more fabric to flap about and resist his movements regardless of how light it may have been, so he wasn’t able to get a hit in fast enough before the akuma turned on him and knocked him away.

Chat was able to get a hit in though.

With his…Kitty Wand…

“THIS IS MAGICAL PUNISHMENT!” He shouted as he smacked the akuma over the head.

“Chat. Chat no. Chat why?”

And Ladybug had hopelessly lost her composure by this point and was laughing. Just laughing. Laughing so hard she was crying actual tears as she smacked her own thigh in her struggle to breathe. Viperion was trying to help her stay standing, keeping an arm around her to support her as she half leaned and half chuckled tears into his chest.

“What’s going on? Does the akuma have some power over Ladybug, too?” King Monkey asked.

…

Viperion sighed.

“Sure. Something to that effect.”

Ladybug wheezed.

“LADYBUG!”

“Lu-haha-lucky haha-charm!”

It said something when her own Lucky Charm magicked up a paper bag. With Ladybug still victim to her fit of giggles, Viperion simply put the bag over her face and had her try to breathe.

“A paper bag doesn’t help with out of control laughing.” Pegasus noted as he forced himself to his feet.

“Do you want to try to figure out the Lucky Charm?” Viperion bit out in annoyance, Ladybug still shaking in his arms.

Pegasus coughed and backed away. “No, thank you.”

Ladybug let out another giggle.

“All right, enough! I’ll stop her!” Carapace shouted, reaching for his back. “With my…serving plate.”

His shield.

His precious shield was gone.

“…Carapace?” Ladybug asked.

The newly rendered Turtle Maid sighed and simply threw the plate as he had his shield, not expecting much.

…the plate slice flew through the air at a surprising speed, but missed the akuma entirely. Instead, it sailed past her, hitting a light post.

Ladybug had expected it to bounce, but instead there was a sound of shredding metal as the serving plate actually tore through the lamp post and into the concrete itself.

The lamp post, now detached, tilted and fell over—conveniently on top of the akuma before she had the time to realize what was happening and move out of the way.

SLAM!

It fell on top of her and she hit the ground.

“Huzzah?” Kim asked.

“Well…that’s one way to defeat an akuma.” Pegasus marveled.

“Great. Now can we fix this already?” Carapace asked impatiently. If they took too much longer, someone was bound to catch them.

That someone would probably be Alya.

And that was the last thing he wanted at this point.

“But I kind of wanted to make a sketch at least…” Ladybug muttered to herself, holding the paper bag Charm to her chest.

“LADYBUG!”

She waved her hands insistently. “I’m on it!”

But she could dream…

“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

It was with some disappointment that the Miraculous Cure wiped away the outfits of the other heroes, returning them to their original costumes.

“OH THANK GOD!”

“That was…horrible…”

“Corsets were invented as a torture method, I swear…”

“Shieldy!” Carapace exclaimed, hugging the shield in relief. “Never leave me again!”

“You okay now, Ladybug?” Chat asked her in worry.

“I’m fine.” She said, even though she wasn’t really. She felt like she’d missed a chance, even if it was for the greater good. But it would have been an abuse of her power to be taking pictures of the guys in that state and she already felt bad enough for breaking down laughing in the middle of the fight.

In that moment, however, the loveliness of ladybugs that made up the Cure returned from their task of restoring Paris to flow over Ladybug herself before vanishing, leaving her holding an envelope in their wake. Curious, she opened the envelope…

She gasped.

Inside were a multitude of photos of the other heroes. From different angles. In different positions. All of them in their new outfits.

Ladybug bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding and drawing attention to herself.

…Thank you, Tikki.

Best. Kwami. Ever. “Ladybug…” Carapace said in growing wariness. “What is that?”

“Nothing!”

“Ladybug. That better not be what I think it is…”

She shoved the photos back in the envelope.

“It’s nothing at all!”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Noticing the stand off, the others approached as well.

“It was just something I was missing, yeah.”

“Then let us see it.”

“Can’t.” She replied, clutching the envelope to her chest. “It’s…Ladybug stuff.”

“Hand it over. Right now!”

"NOOO! THESE ARE FOR THE FUTURE OF FASHIOOOON!”

“GIVE US THE PHOTOS!”

“Wait—did she get any of all of us in a group cosplay pic?”

“NOT NOW, CHAT!”

Unfortunately, that small distraction was all she needed to get away.

Viperion, the only one having been pretty nonchalant this whole time, simply watched her leave and the others shout after her.

“…isn’t she going to take our Miraculous back?”

_________________________

Angela sighed, already dreading what was to come.

It was a humiliating end to an already humiliating week as the former akuma victim had been forced to return to her job to go over the updates for the new Ladybug game with the rest of her team.

Said updates were apparently to include maid outfits for the female heroes thanks to one particular coworker who had decided to work on maid outfits for the female heroes instead of the level he was assigned. It had been part of the reason she had been angry enough to be akumatized.

The fact that he was insistent on shoving his maid fetish into the game for no good reason other than having them be eye candy was the other part.

The images in question that he insisted on bringing featured the three female super heroes of the city: Ladybug, Rena Rouge, and Queen Bee.

But not as anyone had ever seen them.

Instead of their usual hero suits, the three girls were portrayed in sultry, even provocative poses. And most notably, all three were wearing some mockery of a French Maid outfit…as what would be believed by Americans, no less.

They might as well have been the initial sketches of pinup posters.

“You can’t still be serious!”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got akumatized just because I was jealous that someone else had a good idea.” He said bitingly and giving her a pointed look, perhaps still a bit bitter of the aforementioned experience that her akumatization had caused.

“It’s not a good idea, John.” Angela countered. “There was no reason to have the girls be running in maid outfits.”

He shrugged. “We could just say an akuma did it. After all, we did just get an akuma who did exactly that.” He said, giving her another look.

She clenched her fists and was about to retort when their team lead entered the room.

The meeting commenced and she’d been forced to bite her tongue. Each of the team members went over their progress and updates for their contribution to the game. Level design. Enemies. Testing.

And then came his grand achievement. Instead of the level he was assigned, he gave scantily clad designs for three of the eight known heroes.

What effort.

“I was thinking we really need to include something to make our game stand out, so I made some extra skins for the heroes.” He bragged, sending her a smug look. “The appeal would sell plenty of copies.”

“Or the controversy.” Angela muttered back before turning to the team lead and hoping that the man leading their group had more empathy…or sense.

The team lead looked over the designs with an analyzing gaze. Tiffeny, despite the initial impression his name would give, was a rather buff man who took no shit. But was also a guy. Who liked guy things. But did those things include young women in maid costumes?

After a moment, Tiffeny dropped the pictures on the table and looked at John incredulously. “You know, if you were going to base skins off recent events, you could at least have been authentic.”

John stared. “What?”

“It was the guys who were affected by Akumaid. Not the girls. If we’re going to do maids, we need to keep it true to life, just like the rest of the designs we’ve included. We talked about this when we started this project.”

“But it’s what the audience wants!” John argued.

“Do you know who comprises the majority of our audience?” Tiffeny asked. “Girls. Girls, gay guys, and those who are exploring their interests. Guys in the outfits would sell leagues more than the girls.” He started ticking his fingers “It’s different. It’s original. And it’s based in actual events. People would love it.”

“But…they’ll love this!”

“Man, if people wanted to see sexy girls in skimpy clothing, they’d play literally any other game! Or watch porn.” Tiffeny explained. “But what game do you know of has had guys in maid outfits?”

“Well...”

“Exactly. We want to stand out. And we even have recent events as justification. So if you’re going to be wasting time you should be spending on level-making to put people in maid skins, then get those male heroes some maid costumes.”

“But that’s not fair!” John exclaimed.

Tiffeny paused at that. “Hmm…you’re right.”

With that, he turned to her. “You’re good at designing. Make some butler outfits for the girls. Something dashing to serve as a counter for the guys.”

Angela blinked in surprise for a moment before smiling.

“Sure thing!”

“You know…” one of the other workers noted. “While we’re on the subject, I WAS thinking of some medieval armor designs for the girls and princess dresses for the guys.”

“Hey yeah! Like a light green for Viperion!”

“Maybe teal might be better?”

“Ooo! How about…”

Soon enough, everyone seemed to be invested in the new plan.

Everyone that is, except John.

“Lovely!” Tiffeny said cheerfully. “Plan it out and bring the concepts to me later.”

With a new task in hand and John’s pouting to forever be a memory to hold onto, it seemed her day was looking up…

_________________________

“That was some akuma battle.” Marinette said as she slid into her seat next to Alya.

The reporter, however, only looked annoyed. “Ladybug had apparently called all the male heroes and I completely missed it!” She groaned and leaned back in her seat, bemoaning the lost opportunity.

If she’d hadn’t been so focused on tracking Nino for the purpose of collecting blackmail ensuring his safety, she would have been able to catch all of the male heroes in their maid outfits.

Marinette smiled. “You know…I may have a connection…”

Alya gasped.

“No.”

Marinette giggled and slid over her phone with a picture showing.

“NO WAY!” She cried out before staring up at Marinette in shock. “Girl, you have to send me these!”

“Wait—you have what now?” Nino had arrived, initially hopeful that he had avoided the worst of that day only to have those hopes immediately dashed upon arriving to see the two girls sharing what could only have been one thing…

“I have pictures of the heroes in their new outfits.” Marinette replied cheerfully as she swiped through her phone. “Oh look, Nino! You’re in here, too!”

“WHAT?! NO!” He shouted, rushing forward.

Marinette quickly grabbed back her phone and hid it in her pocket with an overly sweet and not at all innocent grin.

“Mari, come on, no! Don’t do this to me!” He begged.

“Don’t do this to ME!” Alya cut in. “You can’t just show me that and take it away! That’s just not fair!”

“Don’t worry.” Marinette assured them. “It’s going where all my blackmail material goes.”

“Wait what?”

“Since when do you have blackmail material?”

“Since somebody started a game of ‘let’s take pictures of Marinette while she’s asleep and post them online’.” Marinette replied dryly.

Nino groaned. “Come on! I said I was sorry!”

“And now I can be just as sorry.” She replied blithely.

Which was to say: not sorry at all.

“Come on! Alya made me do it!”

“It was just in fun! Marinette! Please!”

“Do you want me to beg? Cry? I’ll cry.”

“I’ll pay you! Pretty please! At least the heroes if nothing else!”

“Oh no you don’t!”

“My blog NEEDS this!”

Marinette smiled at the minor chaos she had caused as the normally happy couple bickered with each other.

Sweet sweet music.

“Hey, Marinette!”

And speaking of sweet…

She turned to look up at a certain blond-haired model as he arrived at his own desk. Though he seemed to be a bit distracted by the arguing couple.

“Hey, Adrien!” She greeted, for once with no stutter to speak of.

“Hey, um…are they okay?” He asked, gesturing to the two.

“Oh, they’re fine.” She said, waving them off. “Just…a bit excited over the recent akuma.”

At that, Adrien brightened. “Wasn’t it awesome?”

She nodded, trying to keep her laughter inside.

“You…ah…enjoyed yourself then?”

Adrien shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “Well, it’s not often I get to dress up in a way that’s ‘silly’. Or in anything that isn’t promoting Father’s brand. And I’ve never gotten to cosplay. So it was…really fun.”

Oh. Ouch. Okay, that one kind of hurt. The poor Sunshine Child…

“You know…” Marinette said, leaning over her desk and smiling at him. “I’ve seen a bit of that one anime you mentioned.”

“Cells at Work?” He asked, brightening up.

She nodded. “Mmhmm. I could make you a jacket based off the lead Red Blood Cell. And if you like, I can keep it so you can wear it whenever we hang out.”

He gasped. “Really?”

“Sure! Maybe you can come over sometime so we can try a fitting. We could even play Mecha Strike.”

Adrien beamed. “That sounds great! Thanks, Marinette!”

She waved him off and went back to full sitting in her seat.

Alya and Nino both became distracted from their arguing by the miracle they had just witnessed.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had just spoken to Adrien Agreste…and not a stutter to be heard!

“What the heck, girl?” Alya whispered, sliding into her seat beside her friend. “Since when could you do THAT and why haven’t you done it sooner? I could swear I saw hearts in his eyes!”

Marinette shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “After seeing Adrien Agreste in a maid dress, I kind of wondered why I was so scared of talking to him to begin with.”

Alya laughed. “Well, at least something good came out of this, then.”

“You know...more good WOULD come out of this if I had pics of those heroes..."

“Really, Alya?”

“You’re pretty much the only one who managed to get any shots of the male heroes!” Alya exclaimed. “Seriously, how?!”

Marinette giggled.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

________________________

OMAKE 1:

Knock! Knock!

“Felix?” His mother called on the other side of the locked and barricaded door. “Will you be coming out?”

“That depends. Do you have a camera?”

A pause. Which was all the answer he needed.

“Then no.”

OMAKE 2:

Fortunately, in the midst of their searching, the team had managed to find the akuma and her primary target, getting between the two.

“So what happened?” Ladybug asked him.

John gripped his skirt, nervously. “She’s my coworker in developing a new video game and she didn’t like my input.”

“What set her off?”

The guy rolled his eyes. “She’s one of those types who wants to take the fun out of video games.”

“What?” Ladybug blinked.

“Okay, so I wanted to put some maid costumes in the game! It was just for fun! Besides, it would have added a bit of pizazz! Something for the players to enjoy!”

“You could just try making a good game.” Pegasus pointed out. “If you have to rely on a cheap gimmick to get buyers, it may not be a good product.”

"I'm sorry, really! I mean, sure, I'm still going to put it in the game, because who wouldn't want hot maids, but still! That doesn't mean I deserve this!"

The akuma raised her fist and shouted at him. “THEY ARE HEROES, DAMMIT! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN MAID SKINS JUST BECAUSE THEY’RE GIRLS!”

Ladybug blanched. “Wait…is the game about me?”

Pegasus coughed and looked away. “There have been…rumors, yes.”

Viperion tilted his head. “That seems like a double standard though…since we’re the ones in maid outfits...”

“Not the point, Viperion!”

Ladybug frowned.

“I don’t think I want to help now.”

“Ladybug!”

572 notes · View notes

ghostietea · 4 years ago

Text

Furuba autistic headcanons

With it being April, or autism acceptance month, I wanted to finally drop my list of characters from Fruits Basket that I read as autistic! This is based a lot on my own experience, as well as that of other autistics I know or have seen talk online. I hope some people can get something out of it, feel free to tell me what you think 😊, though please refrain from getting upset that I would dare suggest your fave is autistic.

Hanajima

Before becoming able to better control her powers, she would be constantly overwhelmed by the things she heard to the point that she couldn't even really go out in public. This reads a lot like sensory overload.

Constantly picked on in school because other kids thought she was weird. Eventually reclaimed this weirdness and turned it into a whole persona.

Seems to talk usually in a relatively flat tone.

Had trouble socializing with no friends outside her family until middleschool.

Has a very funny, dry sense of humor that I find very similar to a bunch of autistics I know, including myself.

Hatsuharu

Listen. You have seen the funky little man, you have seen the way he talks, the way he acts around others. He is, and I mean this in the best way, a weirdo. I do not know how you could look at him and see a neurotypical.

Once again, like Hana, Haru is funny in a way that feels very autistic.

Very flat, dry, tone delivery. Sometimes just Says Things that make everyone else go huh??? Suuuuper blunt. Doesn't emote facially a lot of the time.

When this man sees a social norm he doesn't get he WILL NOT follow it. Pierces his ears just because his hair got flak, defends Momiji wearing whatever he wants because sometimes y'know the social rules are just dumb and don't make sense. Especially dress codes.

Sometimes says things not befitting the current tone of the situation.

Represses (masks) a lot of his emotions, leading to outbursts that seem uncharacteristic.

His main childhood trauma revolves around adults branding him as "dumb" and ridiculing him. Haru, however, is super smart and wise!! Just in an offbeat way that not everyone may get.

Machi

Reads as very "flat" emotionally to the point that others would call her boring. Also has a flat vocal delivery.

Relies on specific habits or ways of doing things or else she gets super upset (her hatred of imperfection.

Has trauma surrounding adults completely misconstruing her intentions and thinking she's doing something malicious when she's not.

Generally behaves in a way that's hard for others to understand, one of her formative moments with Yuki was him saying he wanted to "see how the world looks" through her eyes.

Once again, trouble socializing.

Tries super hard to please her parents but in the end they still see her as somehow inherently "defective."

Listen. A lot of this one and the last two are mostly vibes, hard to verbally define. You just have to look at them and trust me.

Tohru

Displays behavior very reminiscent of masking throughout the story, a huge part of her arc is about how she hides a lot of herself and has a very controlled persona. I think it would fit very well if she had other autistic behaviors that she suppresed also it helps explain why she is relatively socially adept, it's learned behavior to make people like her more.

Yes she is very good at saying what others need to hear, but especially early on she is pretty blatantly imitating her mother's words. She only gets better at getting through on a more personal level later on (see her with Rin and Akito v. early series Tohru). She does this by relating her own experiences, a very autistic way of showing empathy that often gets us written off as self centered. The way she relays things her mom said could also be seen as this, and she even worries at a few points that she's being insensitive for going on about things like that.

While emotionally repressed she is hyper empathetic and feels other's emotions so strongly she cries.

Her speech patterns are all imitated from her father and she often copies verbal things from others (see Ritchan-san). Noted in canon that people think her way of speaking is slightly off/not befitting of someone her age. Additionally, her father was polite more sarcastically, while she plays it straight and sometimes takes things very literally or fails to get the message, indicating trouble with reading tone. Has numerous strange verbal tics, including saying parts of her internal monologue out loud without context.

Very expressive with her hands including waving them around and flapping them up and down.

Does have a bit of trouble with accidental insensitivity in social interactions, like how she constantly fixates on her mom and realizes that might bug the Sohma.

Has trouble paying attention in school since it doesn't have much to do with her interests

Her only friend until she was a middle schooler was her mom

Has a pretty unique outlook on things compared to others, people seem to think she's pretty eccentric. There's always a "this girl is nice but in an odd way, she's our weirdo and we love her" vibe.

Sometimes has an "inappropriate" emotional response to situations

Has a lot of trouble with change, similar to Akito. Which oh, look at the time, next hc coming up.

But first, a disclaimer. It is cathartic for me to read Akito this way, but with that reading comes the baggage that she would, mayhaps, be showing a more negative side of things... It doesn't bother me since it's a joint hc with other characters and she does develop at the end but yeah, general villain hc baggage. This is in no way me trying to excuse her being The Worst being autistic doesn't absolve you of being able to do wrong . Also, a lot of these points can and do have other explanations related to her upbringing, but things can be for more than 1 reason. With that said, she really strongly comes off as autistic to me, in a way that's sorta hard to explain. I wrote a lot more for her than the other, both because I felt I needed more to convince people and that this headcanon was more sensitive and I needed to be careful in my explanation. Also hey! She's my special interest within a special interest.

Akito

Shown to have a dislike of summer weather due to heat and brightness, could be due to sensory issues in tandem with sickness things. Also covers her ears when people raise their voice sometimes which is partially her trying to shut down opposition but also 🤔 can read a different way. She'd also avoids louder Juuni like Ritsu and Ayame because she can't handle them.

Wears pretty much the same outfit every single day. Said outfit is also pretty loose fitting.

Always seen sitting in a pretty unconventional way. Evidence:

Of course this is also the isolated in a cult thing and there is a level of her purposefully doing things to intimidate but: doesn't follow a lot of social rules (overly touchy with strangers, legit doesn't get that what she's doing is wrong, ect.). Repeatedly confused when people indicate she should act otherwise without explanation. Has a breakdown when this comes to a head and approximately says that "they" shouldn't expect her to know "common sense" if "they" never explained it to her, that the way that she was was her "common sense."

Often talks in a way uncharacteristic of her age when shown as a child in a more faux mature/pretentious way. Might just be the translation and idk how to explain it but her speech as an adult also seems off from what one would normally use in conversation. Additionally, when she tries to fake being friendly in her intro chapter, it comes of as extremely stiff and unconvincing.

Generally displays behavior that could be thought of as childish as an adult, but a lot of this behavior could also read as autistic (covering ears, emotional deregulation and meltdowns, ignorance of basic social norms, ect.). It's also important to note that she knows that this behavior makes her seem younger and more helpless to the older zodiac and uses it as a manipulation tactic. Has issues regarding people treating her like a child or only hanging out with her because of pity. While she does weaponize it, we can tell that this grates on her, as seen with her finally blowing up on Kureno, which is partially triggered by the maids saying some sorta infantalizing stuff about her. Irl, a lot of autistic adults and teens struggle with being infantalized for our behavior generally or treated as little babies that can do no wrong. Even in fandom, you see people doing stuff like jumping to call autistic adult characters, such as Entrapta from Shera, "minor coded." It is also common for us to have at least one bad experience with someone hanging around us out of pity. This is something that really gave me a similar feeling in Akito's arc. She's not a baby and she can understand and do better if she is given the chance to learn and break from all the freaky cult indoctrination she's been subjected to instead of just being constantly enabled. In the end, a lot of her growth is represented by her showing that she is capable of changing and being independent.

Shows particular difficulty with socialization, often sits by herself spacing out at social events. A lot of her fear is rooted in the fact that she doesn't know how normal relationships work, becoming overly reliant on the curse because she doesn't know how to make friends.

Clings desperately onto the notion of being "special" and in some way superior to others to be worthy and to make up for perceived inherent "flaws." It's the nd gifted kid burnout vibes for me.

Easily bothered by things that don't bother others. Feels emotions very strongly to the point of getting physically ill and has bad emotional regulation.

Relatively good at reading others in an analytical sense (though has more trouble when it comes to seeing how they feel about her since she's wildly delusional) but brings up her observations in a very cold, detached way and hurts people even on the rare occasion she didn't mean to. Has extreme trouble connecting to others and understanding their point of view. This makes her come off as pretty unempathetic even though that might not fully be the case. Also thinks that people like Momiji are trying to look down on her when they try to empathize with her. A lot of why Tohru can get through to her is that she manages to convince Akito that she's not condescending by relating shared traits and experiences. As I said earlier, autistics often empathize by sharing their own experiences with someone, and I know I often have an easier time confiding in other autistics because of a fear of being seen as lesser by those that don't understand me. I think the connection between these charachters and the way that Tohru manages to reach Akito like that while others couldn't makes a lot of sense through an autistic lense!

Additionally, when Akito herself gets around to trying to help others instead of just projecting trauma, she tries to reach out to the old maid by relating back to her own experiences. This however, doesn't work.

Has "cold" emotional reactions sometimes even to things that do make her upset. For example, how sort of calm and detached she acted after her father's death can make her seem uncaring. However, we know that this event did mess her up a lot and she is still (poorly) dealing with a lot of grief from the death of her father years later.

Copies mannerisms from others, the most blatant example is with Ren, who she directly parrots lines from as a child to Yuki.

Partly just her posturing, but gestures a lot with her hands when she talks. Also seen several times clutching her hands in her hair.

Deals extremely poorly with the idea of things changing to the point that it is a driving force of the story.

Does not understand when people tease her.

Ect. Ect. Ect. Listen, I could go on for ages but just trust me, the mean gremlin lady is autistic.

#fruits basket #akito sohma #tohru honda #saki hanajima #machi kuragi #hatsuharu sohma #actually autistic #meta

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azucanela · 4 years ago

Text

prologue

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption. cursing.

word count: 3k

summary: the internet is enamored with the idea of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki, two renowned pro heroes, dating. the first issue? the pair rarely interacts. the second issue? apparently, they hate each other, not that anyone knows about that bit. of course, after one night of many mistakes, the whole world knows.

series masterlist

THE NIGHT OF THE GALA, it quickly came to Y/N’s attention that she definitely should not have waited til the last minute to get ready. But, her own procrastination had bested her, especially since she didn’t want to go, at all. It isn’t that Y/N wasn’t excited to see all her peers, it’s just that...

Y/N wasn’t excited to see her peers.

Or anyone for that matter, she was exhausted after having just recently returned from one of her longer missions, and though her publicist had insisted the timing was perfect Y/N had to disagree.

She was really hoping for a break, not to be forced into socializing with everyone. And though Y/N didn’t want to seem arrogant in any way, she was a woman who had amassed quite the influence in her years as a Pro Hero. Meaning people wanted to talk to her, they wanted her favor.

Y/N wasn’t in the mood to have conversations with people faking kindness at the moment, which was the primary reason she found herself grimacing as she slipped on her second heel. Nearly falling to the floor had she not caught herself on the edge of the doorway as she hopped out while adjusting her shoe.

As though things couldn’t become more chaotic, Y/N’s phone rings, causing her to jump at the sudden noise in shock before cursing, hand reaching into her small purse and digging around for the item as she continues towards her door. Just before she can pick up the phone, the call promptly ends, and a knock sounds at the door— causing Y/N to groan in annoyance as she comes to a proper stand and begins to make her way towards the entrance of her home.

The knocks become more rapid, and Y/N suddenly realizes just who is at her door as she rolls her eyes, calling out, “I’m coming you impatient hag.”

Y/N can practically hear the scoff of her publicist as she finally opens the door, revealing the woman who stands with her brow raised. “We’re going to be late.”

Before her stands Lorelai Flores, one of the most renowned publicists of their time. Y/N was lucky to have scored her seeing as she was one of few Pro Heroes who hadn’t had a scandal yet, miraculously. In fact, Y/N had been one of her first clients shortly after they’d met in a local café— the woman had come from America and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if life there was more chaotic with how well she handled all her clients.

The woman in question stands before Y/N in a green dress as she removes her glasses, eyes scanning Y/Ns figure before saying, “you look nice.”

A smile finds its way onto Y/N’s face as she lightly shoves Lorelai, stepping out of her apartment and locking the door behind her before the pair begins to head down the hall, “you look great as well!”

The click of their heels brings Y/N a satisfaction she cant describe as they exit the apartment complex, Y/N lived in a quiet area, an attempt to escape the unavoidable fame being a Pro Hero brought on. It was especially worse when you saw all the posts.

God, Twitter is insane, Y/N learnt that the hard way. Despite the fact that she and Bakugou Katsuki hadn’t been in the same room since graduation— for a reason— the internet had taken to shipping the pair. It was an idea that Y/N abhorred given her history with the boy. After all, they’d practically been butting heads since they met.

But it was appealing to the masses, the idea of someone “soft” like Y/N, someone known for their charity work and kindness, their sweet smile and endless optimism. And someone... like Bakugou. Harsh, almost ill-mannered and rude— though there was no denying that he’d made progress since their UA days, not that Y/N could confirm this seeing as she hadn’t seen him in so long. That and the fact that last she checked, most of the major headlines involving Bakugou were... not very positive.

Y/N started to avoid social media once she discovered this ship. She and Bakugou didn’t have the best relationship during their time at UA, it was practically a rivalry in their last year especially.

“All your friends are going to be there.” Lorelai hummed, scrolling through her phone as she side eyed Y/N, the pair slipping inside a limo with ease once they stepped out of building, met by one of many men that Lorelai had hired. She had insisted that now that Y/N was a Pro Hero, she’d be a target too. And of course, her publicist was right.

Her brow raises, as she settles in the car, deciding to simply reply, “yes, I’m aware they’ll all be there.” It’s a curious comment, seeing as it was an obvious fact. They were all heroes, and given their history with UA, well... the world had been anticipating their debuts for a while. Meaning they all quickly rose to fame, some faster than others, and some remaining in the spotlight far longer.

Surprisingly, Y/N was included in that bunch, unsurprisingly, Bakugou, Todoroki and Midoriya were as well. Tokoyami had also carved out a nice spot for himself at Hawks’ agency, and Yaoyorozu had managed to become a sidekick to a rather renowned upcoming hero.

Y/N had also earned a spot at Hawks’ agency, the man demanding her presence because she had “reminded him of himself,” for some reason. And seeing as he was one of the top heroes, who was she to disagree? The man seemed to understand her desire for distance, allowing her to go on missions that tended to be further out from where she’d grown up. And she was more thankful for the space.

She’d taken to philanthropy as soon as the money started coming in. Y/N had never understood just how much money Pro Heroes made until she was earning it as well. Although, seeing as she wasn’t ranked all that high, it wasn’t until she started branching out and doing other work that it became ridiculous.

“All of your friends, Ms. L/N.” Lorelai looks up to her, brow raised as she crosses her legs, resting her clasped hands on top of them.

Y/N offers her a tight lipped smile before waving her off, “I told you to call me Y/N, we’ve known each other how long?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Sighing, Y/N shifts uncomfortably in her seat, eyes drifting towards the window to see there are already dozens of flashing lights lined up, surrounding the venue of the gala, hoping to catch one of the Pro Heroes before anyone else does.

With a sigh, Lorelai directs her eyes outside as well, hands clasped together as she straightens herself in her seat, “funny isn’t it? That such a vital job requires so much publicity?” A tight lipped smile forms on their face, “I suppose I should be grateful for it. After all, it’s the reason I have a job but...”

But, Y/N hated it, and so did Lorelai.

“It’s horrid that my dress matters more than any life I save.”

And with that, the car comes to a stop. Alerting them that they’ve arrived, coupled with a short and swift knock on the door to signal that it’s time to get out.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N looks back to Lorelai, who takes out a pocket mirror and removes her glasses, Lorelai eyes herself in the mirror momentarily, blinking once, twice, before saying, “most people don’t bring their publicists to such events you know.”

A small laugh escapes Y/N, and she knows its Lorelai’s attempt at helping her wind down before going inside, though she replies, “you’re more than my publicist.” Offering her a smile, Y/N simply says, “and why suffer alone when I can bring my friend, and who else will make sure I don’t do anything dumb?”

It was true, it was always nice to have a partner at such functions, someone to hang around or return to. Or more accurately, someone to use as an excuse to leave the more annoying conversations. Though Lorelai always enjoyed the free foods and gift bags— that had items worth more than her rent, Lorelai had once said— and agreed to join Y/N/

Rolling her eyes, Lorelai simply knocks at the door, letting their chauffeur know it’s time before momentarily turning back to Y/N as they say, “ladies first.”

And with that, the door opens, revealing the pair to the world and exposing them to all the flashing lights of the mob awaiting them. People shouting out her Pro Hero name, Empatha.

Named for her quirk, Empathic Mimicry. Granting her to use the ability of those she touches for as long as she wants. However, in that period of time, she can feel their emotions and pain, and the quirk she uses comes with the setbacks of the user. If the person she touches is quirkless, it is possible to get other skills of theirs, but once again there are setbacks.

Todoroki spent much of his free time at UA theorizing that she and Monoma Neito were secretly related in some way. Monoma on the other hand, seemed bitter about the fact that Y/N was “a better version” of him. Despite this, the memory of Todoroki’s odd question brings a genuine smile to her face as she steps onto the red carpet, swiftly making her way past as she waves towards the cameras.

It’s just as overwhelming as it was the first time. And the second time. And the time after that. Even if Y/N had taught herself to control her abilities, no longer feeling the emotions of those surrounding her. But she didn’t need her ability to feel the excitement, anxiety— and worst of all the ambition. Ambition tended to be dangerous in the hero world. The reason behind unnecessary deaths, and exposed scandals. In Y/N’s experience it was a dangerous emotion, but she wouldn’t deny it had produced some impressive people.

The lights are blinding as Y/N maneuvers inside, colliding with someone, warm hands come to rest on her forearms as the person in question mutters out, “watch where you’re going.”

Y/N finds herself freezing, recognizing him almost instantly. By the time her eyes have readjusted to the light, she finds that Bakugou is staring right back at her, mouth gaped open.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Y/N scoffs, tearing her arm from his grasp as he quickly as she attempts to collect herself, inhaling deeply.

Y/N probably should’ve guessed it was him from the screams, pose for a picture! Why don’t you two get a little closer! Can you comment on your relationship? They’re yelling for Bakugou too, wondering why he finally decided to make an appearance. Y/N is curious as well, for different reasons of course.

Bakugou is rolling his eyes before she can continue, “please, it’s not like I wanted to see you either.”

Y/N nods slowly, offering him a bitter smile as she inhaled deeply— taking a few steps back. “Great to see you Bakugou, truly.” Sarcasm dripping from her tone as she stands beside him begrudgingly, putting on a false smile, “I hate you just as much as I used to.”

Pausing, Bakugou’s hand comes to hover over her waist, as he stares into the cameras, muttering, “why?”

“We both have reputations to maintain, do we not?” Comes her response, looking to him, Y/N reminds herself not to scowl as she straightens herself beside him, waving to a group of people and inciting more screams as she beams from beside Bakugou.

His laugh is a bitter one as he replies, “right.” Y/N inhales shakily, removing herself from Bakugou as she offers him a sarcastic smile, “thanks for the show, Sweetheart, but you aren’t all that important. You aren’t doing me any favors right now.”

A laugh escapes her, and the number of flashes increases exponentially, only for her to turn to Bakugou and say, “really now? Well, I suppose you’re right I’m not important seeing as you’re the one on the front page every week for a different scandal.” Bakugou looks away, scoffing, and Y/N nearly flips him off before reminding herself where she is and saying, “And I don’t want your thanks. I don’t want anything from you.”

And then she’s off, offering tight lipped smiles to those around her as she moved further into the venue for the gala, grabbing a drink off the tray of a passing waiter, Y/N mumbled out words of thanks before downing the drink instantly. Making her way past each person when a hand grabs her wrist.

“Y/N?”

Izuku Midoriya, better known as Pro Hero Deku, had intercepted Y/N on her way to the sanctuary of every party. The bathroom. Though he was probably the best person to have caught her, and undoubtedly someone she actually wanted to speak with. Y/N had a feeling he could tell something was wrong from the way he looked at her, concern clear in his eyes, Izuku was always easy to read. But she had somewhere to be and—

And Bakugou would be entering anytime soon. And what infuriated Bakugou more than she did? Izuku Midoriya.

So, Y/N puts a smile on her face as she says, “hey Midoriya.” She clears her throat, moving to stand beside him as she asks, “how are you doing?”

He beams back at her, his smile as genuine as ever as he responds, “I’m well! And so are you it seems, there are rumors that you’ll be entering the top 100 heroes this year, you know?”

Y/N had heard such rumors as well, if they were true, she’d be the first of her class to become a part of the top 100. Seeing as they were still basically fresh out of UA, it would be quite the achievement for her to do so at such a young age. Rivaling the progression of even Pro Hero Hawks.

Raising a brow Y/N shoves him lightly, “scouting out the competition are you, Midoriya?”

Midoriya’s eyes widen and he immediately begins shaking his head as his cheeks flush a bright red, “absolutely not!” He exclaims, “I’m just so amazed by how far you’ve come and it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

A small laugh escapes her at his reaction, her eyes drifting towards her empty glass as she replies, “well I have no doubt that if I do miraculously enter the top 100, you’ll be close behind.” Inhaling deeply, she meets his eyes, “now if you’ll excuse me, I was on my way to the restroom when you caught me.” Once again, his cheeks flush a light pink as he begins to sputter apologies, and Y/N simply smiles as she says, “but we should definitely catch up sometime soon, maybe we can hang out sometime soon?”

A bashful smile finds its way onto his face as he nods slowly, “yeah. I would like that.”

And with that, Y/N waves goodbye to him continuing to the bathroom and managing to avoid any more conversations though few tried. Likely hoping for some good publicity themselves, she could see people beginning to swarm Deku in the distance now— and Y/N finds herself feeling bad that she left him so soon.

But as Y/N makes her way inside the restroom, it finally hits her.

Lorelai meant it when she said all her peers are coming, the woman had probably meant it as a warning. It was rare for Bakugou to attend social events, especially since they rarely ended well when it came to him. Most days, he ended up the headline of every single news sources when it came to his public events, rarely did Bakugou have a good run in with the press. Y/N was shocked he’d made it this far in the hero industry with his poor reputation only worsening at every event.

Oh she needed a drink. Y/N needed a lot of drinks. She couldn’t do this right now, not at all.

But more importantly, she needed fun, she needed lots of fun. So, taking one last look at the mirror, Y/N inhales deeply before exiting the restroom, spotting Izuku Midoriya almost instantly. She makes her way towards him, calling out for him, “Midoriya!” Her words distract him from his conversation, drawing the attention of those around then and the people who were initially speaking to him.

The boy seems relieved that someone has come to save him from whatever conversation he was having, waving to Y/N as he says, “Y/N?”

A grin comes onto her face as she extends a hand to him, looking to those around him, “sorry to interrupt but—” She turns back to Izuku, “may I have this dance?

He offers her a nervous smile, only sparing those around him a glance as he replies, “definitely.”

And with that, she drags him to the dance floor, and Y/N can feel the eyes on her as she does. It certainly is a curious sight. Two of the big up and coming heroes heading to the dance floor together after barely any public interactions. Y/N is sure that once the word gets out the internet will be going insane, and so will the press. Weaving together stories of insanity to boost their readership.

At this rate, Y/N didn’t care.

This was Y/N L/N’s first mistake of the night, but it certainly wouldn’t be her last seeing as by the end of the night, Y/N L/N and Bakugou Katsuki would be on every front page and headline.

note: lmk how this was pls i need validation <3

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queenmagnusao3 · 3 years ago

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AO3 Link (COMPLETE)

Lin had been in a bad mood all week.

Kya was leaving in a few days for the South Pole and she’d be gone for a whole month. She wasn’t upset with Kya, they had discussed the expectations of their relationship at length and Lin had said she was okay with the reality that Kya was going to have to be away for various periods of time.

But it didn’t mean she had to like it.

She was always in a foul mood right before Kya left… and while she was gone. She tried not to bring it to work with her but it was hard not to. She’d chew out some poor, unsuspecting subordinate before holing herself up in her office. She saw the knowing looks that passed between the select few who were a part of her inner circle.

It had been Mako who had made the connection between her bad moods and Kya’s trips away from the city. He had mentioned it to Saikhan who had grown a pair and said something to Lin directly. He had left her office pretty quickly, nobody speaking of it again.

But they knew. And she was honestly glad they knew.

Any friendly chatter in the bullpen died as she walked through the desks to her office, closing the door behind her without a word. She was halfway to her desk when her phone rang and she cursed loudly, crossing to the desk and yanking the phone up to her ear.

“What?!”

“Well that’s not a very friendly greeting.”

Lin relaxed a bit at the sound of Kya’s voice.

“I’m sorry. What is it?”

“I know how upset you are that I’m leaving for so long-“

“I’m not upset. I want you to go.”

Lin winced. That didn’t come out the way she meant it.

“Just let me finish Lin. Tenzin and Pema have some event tonight and they asked if I would keep an eye on the kids. And I was wondering if you would join me.”

“Kya, I”

“This will be one of our last nights together for a while. I know it’s not ideal but I just really want to spend as much time with you as possible.”

Oh, she was good. Most people had the wrong idea of Kya. She had somehow managed to give herself the image of being some wise and innocent master healer. But Lin knew better. Kya was much more complicated than that. And she had a rap sheet that put Su’s to shame. It wasn’t anything serious, mostly protests or defacing of property but Lin would wager most people didn’t know that about the master waterbender.

“That’s a low blow, Master Kya.”

“I know, but it’s true. And I know the kids would love to see you. Please, Lin.”

She didn’t know when she had gone so soft but before she could comprehend how it happened, she found herself agreeing to babysit Tenzin’s kids and was actively helping Kya put the four of them to bed.

Lin slipped out of Rohan and Meelo’s room as Kya quietly followed behind her, closing the door with a soft click.

“What-“

Kya silenced her by covering her mouth with a warm hand, bringing her index finger to her own mouth in a shushing motion. She walked past Lin towards the main living area, waving for her to follow. Once they were in the kitchen Kya spent just a moment listening.

“I think we’re safe.”

“What do you mean?”

“You always need to give it a few minutes of quiet before trusting the kids are actually asleep. If they hear anything that might indicate they’re missing out on something it’s all over and we’d have to start the nighttime routine all over again.”

Lin perched on the edge of one of the counters as Kya started clearing away dirty dishes. She watched as the waterbender made small movements with her hands, the water literally bending to her will as she made quick work of cleaning off the various bits of food stuck on them. Lin mused to herself that she wouldn’t mind cleaning so much if she could make the water do most of the work for her.

“I didn’t know you were so good with kids.”

Kya laughed and Lin felt her heartrate increase at how beautiful she looked when she smiled. She looked to Lin over a shoulder.

“Lin, I’m the oldest of three siblings. Spirits, I’m the oldest of all of you. Well, except Zumi. But she doesn’t count because she didn’t live in the city growing up. Listening to you all crying and whining all the time, being a full time, unpaid babysitter… best birth control there is. Well that and being a lesbian.”

A decent stack of clean dishes was piling up and Lin hopped down from the counter, grabbing a towel and getting to work drying them.

“You’re not so bad with kids yourself, you know.”

“Yes well, I practically raised Su when my mother wasn’t home. Which was pretty much all the time.”

Lin focused intently on the plate she was drying but she could feel Kya watching her. She was working on working through her childhood traumas but it was still a sore subject. And Lin really didn’t want to talk about it right now. She hoped Kya would pick up on that and steer the conversation away from Lin’s complicated upbringing. With a rare stroke of luck the phone rang, Kya flicking her hands quickly so the water returned to the sink before bolting for the phone.

“Hello. Yes, this is Kya. Right now? I’m kind of busy at the moment. Yes, I understand. No, it’s okay. Just give me a little time. Yes. Thank you.”

Kya hung up the receiver and turned slowly to Lin with a look Lin did not like at all.

“Kya…”

“Lin, I’m sorry but I have to go. One of my mother’s old students is very ill and asked for her personally. Obviously mom isn’t coming to the city right now so I’m the next best thing.”

“Kya, you can’t leave me alone with the kids.”

“They’re asleep. It’ll be fine.”

“And if they wake up?”

“Lin, I’m sorry but I have to go. If they wake up you’ll have to figure something out. Just think of what your mother used to do if you or Su got up after being put to bed.”

Lin snorted. Her and Su wouldn’t even make it to their bedroom door before Toph would bend a piece of earth in their path that would not so gently push them back towards the bed until they got the picture and accepted defeat. Once Lin had gotten a handle on earthbending it had become more of a game. For both her and Su. Trying to see who could get the closest to outsmarting their mother. The only time Lin had gotten the upper hand before the age of 12 was when Tenzin had helped her “float” above the floor with his airbending so Toph couldn’t sense her. It was one of the few times her mother had actually said she was proud of Lin, at least out loud.

Kya walked to Lin and took her hands, planting a gentle kissing on her cheek.

“I promise you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t guarantee.”

Kya rolled her eyes, moving to the door to slip on her shoes. Lin helped her with her bag and crossed her arms as Kya opened the door to leave.

“I’ll be back before the sun rises.”

“Be careful.”

“Always am, chief.”

She gave her a lazy salute and Lin rolled her eyes, watching her descend the stairs. Once she was out of visual sight Lin stomped her foot to the ground and used her seismic sense to follow Kya until she was completely out of range.

Lin let out a long sigh making to close the door. She froze as bright light flashed across the sky followed a few seconds later by a low rumble off in the distance. Her mouth got dry as she closed the door with a quiet click. Of course there would be a thunderstorm while she was on Air Temple Island alone.

She felt her chest tighten and tried to control her breathing, willing her thoughts to stop spiraling. But she couldn’t stop the memories that hit her. A darkening sky. The sound of rain as it pinged against her scorched armor. A masked face. A cold thumb pressed against her forehead…

Another loud boom of thunder sounded, close enough to make the house shudder and Lin jumped, closing her eyes tight. She felt something then. Light, barely there, footsteps running down the hall towards her.

Lin wiped her eyes quickly, just in time to relax her face as Rohan came running into the room. His heartbeat was pounding and his eyes wide with fear. At least she wasn’t the only one who didn’t care for the storm.

She softened her face into a smile and walked to him, holding her arms out. He didn’t hesitate at all before running to her and she picked him up easily, his tiny legs wrapping around her waist.

“It’s all right. It’s just a storm. I’ve got you.”

He buried his face in her chest and Lin smiled. She didn’t know why she had been so worried. She could handle this.

“Let’s get you back into bed.”

“No!”

“I’ll sit with you until the storm is gone, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

Lin carried him quietly down the hall to the room he shared with Meelo.

“Now we have to be quiet so we don’t wake up your brother, okay?”

Rohan lifted his head from her chest and nodded quickly. She pushed open the door and moved to the small bed in the farthest corner of the room. She glanced over at Meelo who was completely covered by his blankets but thankfully still sleeping. Lin sat on the edge of Rohan’s bed and he jumped from her arms, immediately pulling his own blanket over his head. Just as she started to coax him into laying down lightning flashed again and Lin closed her eyes in anticipation of what was to come.

The storm must be right over them now because the next boom of thunder shook the house so badly that the windows rattled. Lin heard a shrill scream from one of the rooms down the hall and she watched as Meelo shot 4 feet into the air on a gust of wind, startling awake.

Perfect.

Lin carefully uncovered Rohan, the young airbender not waiting for an invitation before jumping back into Lin’s arms. They stood and turned to where Meelo now sat with his eyes wide and staring.

“Come on, Meelo. You can ride on my back.”

Lin suspected that Meelo wasn’t actually all that frightened of the storm but wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to take full advantage of Lin’s offer. He jumped on her back and she felt it in her knees. When did the kid get so heavy? He got into a more comfortable position and Lin lead them all into the and down the hall towards Ikki’s room.

“Ikki?”

A small head popped out from under her blankets. Lin walked to the edge of the bed and started to sit, Meelo jumping from her back and perching on the corner of his sister’s bed while Rohan curled up against her chest. The rain was coming down hard now and the thunder and lightning was going off at regular intervals.

Rohan was still holding tightly to Lin and as she looked at Ikki’s nervous face she knew there was only one thing to do.

“Ikki, move over so I can lay down next to you.”

The young girl’s face lit up in apparent surprise but she moved over without a word. Lin pried Rohan from her arms and laid him on the bed next to Ikki before shuffling herself into the position next to him.

“Can, can you be in the middle? Just so I know you’re really here.”

Lin refrained from letting out a sigh before she shifted Rohan to her other side, inching herself closer to Ikki. She immediately nestled into Lin’s side and she could feel her heartbeat slow. Meelo was already asleep sitting up against the wall and Lin was hopeful she would be able to sneak away before long.

Of course, the universe had other plans as the loudest crack of thunder yet rang out across the sky. Even Lin herself jumped at the sound and Ikki let out another shriek. Meelo seemed a bit more concerned now as he moved closer to Lin, taking up the spot between the wall and Ikki.

“Are you guys okay?”

Lin started as she looked up to see Jinora standing in the doorway. That girl really was twinkletoes the third, she hadn’t even heard her approach.

“Everything is fine. It appears not everyone is a fan of the storm.”

“Oh, okay. I’m glad everyone is okay.”

Lin raised an eyebrow as Jinora still lingered in the doorway.

“Maybe you can come join us and help me keep an eye on these three?”

The teenager’s face relaxed as she climbed up to join them, curling up at the foot of the bed with her head against Lin’s legs. There was another flash of lightning and Lin decided she had had enough. Before the thunder could disturb them she wriggled her right hand free from under Ikki and made a quick, violent movement with her hand. Thick slabs of earth shot up from the floor to the ceiling, soundproofing their little room against the raging storm outside. She had left a small opening by the doorway so she could make her escape once they were asleep again.

It didn’t take long for the four tiny heartbeats to slow to a resting pace but it was then that Lin realized she was in the unfortunate situation of not being able to move without risking waking everyone up again. She took in a deep breath and weighed her options. She could move in one quick motion and hope for the best. But she was already so tired and didn’t want to deal with any more bedtime routines. She supposed she could just close her eyes for a bit, at least until the storm had passed. She shifted slightly, getting as comfortable as she could with the gaggle of airbenders she was surrounded by. She’d just close her eyes for a few minutes…

///////////

It had taken Kya longer than she expected to return to the island, the thunderstorm making it impossible for the ferry to make the trip across the bay. She hoped Lin was doing okay, last she knew Tenzin’s kids weren’t overly fond of storms.

What Kya didn’t expect was to find Lin completely passed out in a bed with her nieces and nephews draped all over her. Rohan had his head on Lin’s chest, her arm wrapped around him protectively as an impressive drool stain spread across Lin’s shirt. Ikki and Meelo were back to back on Lin’s other side, Ikki hugging Lin’s arm close to her as she rested her head on Lin’s shoulder. Jinora was curled on her side at the foot of the bed, her head resting in between Lin’s sprawled legs.

Lin’s face was more relaxed than Kya had seen it in a long while. Even in sleep, her partner was full of tension but right now she looked peaceful. Kya smiled as she backed out of the room, avoiding the large stone slabs Lin must have used to shelter the room from the loud sounds of the storm.

The house was quiet and Kya dragged herself to Tenzin and Pema’s empty bed, determined to get a little bit of sleep before the sun began to rise. She smiled again as the image of Lin and the kids snuggled together flashed in her mind. She laid her head down, sleep overtaking her as soon as her eyes had closed.

#legend of korra #kyalin #lin beifong #fanfic

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babieateez · 3 years ago

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after literal months of trying to write this, here it is!! i completely trashed it after a few attempts and rewrote it in the span of two hours after probably too much coffee but i hope everyone enjoys it nonetheless !!

you didn’t know jung wooyoung very well but you also felt like things were better off that way since he was the type of guy to hang out with the wrong crowd

y’know, the ones who probably smoke cigarettes on campus and cut classes to get drunk at whatever party was happening on campus that day

you could be almost positive that jung wooyoung would rather stick his hand in hot oil than be acquainted with you, since pretty much every time you accidentally made eye contact with him in your shared class, he looked just about like he was ready to commit murder

the first time it happened, you hadn’t even realized you were looking at him, not until you felt someone’s red hot stare on your face

and the second, third and fourth time have also all been less than purposeful, getting called by the professor to hand back certain papers, dropping your pencil too close to him, quickly glancing around the room to see if anyone had caught you tripping over your own shoelaces and seeing the cold eyes of wooyoung staring back at you, every single time has been returned with a sneer crossing his face and a dangerous look in his eyes

it’s not like you wanted to be looking at him, you had much better things to be doing, like your classwork or writing in your notebook, but it’s like you were fated to annoy wooyoung

it was like a curse, you couldn’t escape that guy, especially not when your professor told the class about how the project that he was originally planning to be done alone was to now be completed in partners (randomly assigned!!)

lord knows you had just the worst luck, so of course you got paired up with jung fucking wooyoung of course you had!

you’re sure that as soon as he heard your name in conjunction with his, he was ready to drop the class entirely but you were more than willing to do all the work by yourself if it meant not having to deal with him

you told him as much as soon as class was over which obviously didn’t go over so well seeing as wooyoung just narrowed his eyes at you and told you that he didn’t trust you to not fuck things up, adding that he was going to be in the library later in the day to get started

you almost snapped back at him that you were surprised that he even knew where the library was, but you held your tongue out of fear for your own safety and well-being

so later that day, you walked yourself to the library despite every bone in your body protesting spending extra time with the man who all but hated you

you refused to let him do the work alone because you weren’t overly confident in his mental facilities and dedication to getting at least passing grades

and after about five minutes of walking through the library, you spotted wooyoung sitting at a table with a book pulled out, along with a snack which you were pretty sure were prohibited in this area

but as long as it didn’t get you in trouble, you didn’t want to waste your time arguing with him over the rules

as he looked up from the snack he was examining for whatever reason, he spotted you, a sour look crossing his face as he leaned back in his chair

as you approached and pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table, he made some remark about how he didn’t actually expect you to show and that he’s disappointed that he has to spend extra time with you

to which you can’t help but retort by saying you figured he might need help actually figuring out how to read the books on the subject but you leave it at that, opting to ignore whatever comes out of his loud mouth next in favor of pulling out your laptop to actually start working on the project

the table becoming silent other than the sounds of munching whenever wooyoung took a bite of his snack and after a few hours of research and tense comparing of ideas, you call it a day and head home to ponder how you and wooyoung didn’t tear each other apart from limb to limb

these quiet library sessions filled with very little talking and a lot of awkwardness in the air continue for a few weeks, each time you meet up getting less scary and annoying, and in turn becoming more relaxed and productive

the insults haven’t stopped being slung from either side, but now it’s less of actual hatred and closer to frenemy-esque banter which surprises you almost as much as when you forgot to eat lunch before going to the library

your stomach letting out a loud grumble in front of your project partner, and him glaring at you with an accusatory look, only to reach into his bag and grab out one of the snacks he always seems to be carrying around

you weren’t sure how to respond to this so you spluttered out a “no thank you, why do you think i want your shit anyway” only for wooyoung to shove it onto your side of the table anyway

telling you that it was probably stale from sitting at the bottom of his bag for weeks anyway but when you open it and take a bite of one of the crackers, it’s not even close to stale, it’s not even crushed up like most old snacks would be

this unexpected act of kindness (could it even be classified as that when wooyoung was probably just annoyed by your stomach making noise???) shut you up for the rest of the day, and even some of the next time you saw him

until you realized it would be the last day you’d have to work with him for the project, seeing as it was due the next day in class and leaving the table that day felt almost bittersweet

you didn’t know what to do with yourself now that you had so much wooyoung-free time, but it was nice knowing that you didn’t have to worry about annoying him any more

that is, until you show up to the library the next week, near the same time you and wooyoung usually met up to work, since you weren’t sure what else to do during that time, only to find wooyoung sitting at the same table you usually worked together at

you were shocked of course, but he looked even more shocked when he saw you approaching, asking you what you were doing here, if you knew that the project was over or if your tiny brain couldn’t remember that, the same banter you’d usually encounter while working

you let him know that you just didn’t know what else to do with the free time, now that you don’t have any big projects to work on so you figured you’d just chill here anyway

and nothing much really happens, it’s a mix between you feeling awkward and trying to act natural until you realize that you have to leave

when you meet up with your friends after for a little de-stressing hangout, they ask you if you’re still going on those dates with wooyoung and you can’t help but laugh- you???? attracted to jung wooyoung???????? the man who has only felt contempt towards you????????????? as if.

yet, despite it being a passing comment meaning no harm, you can’t help but ponder over it for far longer than someone who actually isn’t in some way attracted to wooyoung should

it practically takes over your life, thinking and overthinking every word you’ve said to him and every interaction you’ve shared with him, you could’ve sworn at the time that you hated him but maybe the flutter you got in your stomach before meeting him every week wasn’t so much out of fear as it was attraction

you stay in your dorm the next week in favor of going to the library, fearing that you’d become physically ill if you had to see wooyoung and confront your feelings and biases towards him, not even slightly suspecting that he’d find you in class the next day and ask if you were okay, since you weren’t at the library yesterday

offering you once more a snack from his bag which you accept weakly with a weak snide comment about not wanting his pity, him responding with a small smile that he was actually plotting to give you food poisoning but you could tell that he cared at least a little bit, a fact which got your heart racing and you brain trying to deny totally

the next week, you actually do show up to the library, not wanting to seem weak for skipping the unofficial hangout with wooyoung, only for you to lose yourself in the book you were reading

not realizing it had gotten dark until you looked out the window nearby, wanting to bang your head against the table since it’s never safe to walk alone in the dark, until wooyoung sees your plight and offers to walk you home

you feel like you’re about to combust but you shake your head quickly, saying you can call a friend to come pick you up, but wooyoung doesn’t seem to be listening to your protests, telling you that you’re too stubborn and to just let him walk yo back to the dorm

it would probably be less out of the way for him than your friend anyway

which is how you find yourself standing beside him, walking to your dorm in the dark

when you get to your door, you see the gears turning in his brain and can’t resist one final jab for the day, remarking that you’re surprised it’s not actually hollow in his noggin

and since jung wooyoung never fails to surprise you, he forgoes a response to instead start leaning toward you with a small smirk on his face

the heat in your face feels like it’s on turboblast, your heart is going three hundred miles per hour and you can’t think of anything logical to do other than to run inside your dorm, quickly shout out a thank you, and all but slam your door in his face

your roommate asks why you look so panicked and you respond with “i think my mortal enemy slash crush just tried to kiss me”

you have more than a few crises about it that night, even dreaming about the events of the day, only to show up to class the next day, seeing wooyoung look less energized than usual

this time you’re the one to approach him, asking if he’s okay and him sort of scoffing and asking why you would care anyway (at this point you know he’s hurt but you were nervous that the guy you thought you hated but ended up being attracted to was trying to kiss you okay you’re valid)

so you steel your nerves, check that the professor hasn’t walked into class yet, and quickly grab wooyoung by the front of his shirt and give him the quickest kiss you think may be humanly possible before rushing to your seat and burying your head in the textbook, leaving wooyoung standing there in shock as the professor waltzes in

if you think you can escape the clutches of wooyoung after class, you’re sorely mistaken, as soon as the professor dismisses you, he’s shooting out of his seat and grabbing your hand, basically dragging you into a quieter part of the building before asking if you meant it, you shooting him a silent, bashful nod, and him pulling you in for a much longer kiss than you gave him before

it’s like breathing after a lifetime of not knowing what oxygen was, but you pull back to ask him why he hated you and the words get caught in his throat

it’s like he’s choking on his pride when he tells you that the first time he saw you he was so enraptured by you, but how he also couldn’t help but be bitter that you’d never see him like that since you were so out of his league (in his mind- he was the “bad boy” after all)

he knew what sorts of rumors circulated about him around campus, skipping class to smoke and party, getting into fights

but the reality was just that he worked at a shop to be able to pay his tuition and sometimes the hours were in the middle of when he had to be in class or whatever

he even always let the professors know and they were always okay with it as long as his grades didn’t suffer

you were sitting there listening to him say all this with his arms still around you like :0

because wow you’d never guess it

but because you can’t help yourself, you remark that he was so much more sexy when you thought he was a real bad boy, to which he shuts you up by kissing you once more, a common theme you discover in the coming weeks of courtship

your meetings at the library migrating to small cafes and cute diners and movies at his apartment, all feelings of tension and hatred and remorse becoming almost a joke with you two, hardly being able to believe there was a time in which you weren’t so enamored with each other

the both of you hardly being able to go a single weekend without staying the night with each other, waking up in a pile of blankets and pillows and tangled in the warm embrace of the other, making breakfast (or brunch, since it’s sometimes hard to get out of bed) with each other

wooyoung often opting to hold you from behind rather than actually helping though you can’t exactly say you mind too much as long as he’s quietly making corny jokes in your ear or kissing you on the head

the best times, you think are the times where he, in his typical wooyoung fashion, surprises you by taking you out on dates

sometimes they’re fancy restaurants where you feel much too young and broke to be, playing footsies under the table and giggling at each other

other times he just takes you to the middle of a field of flowers where he unveils a picnic basket and cute quilted blanket (which he reveals to you that he made himself) and the two of you lay outside for hours, sometimes running around and playing goofy games, sometimes laying in each others’ embrace and basking in the silence that you now feel so comfortable in

sometimes he just pulls you into bed for a midday nap, sleeping next to each other like it’s where you were made to be

as if some higher being had made it so that the place you melded to was wooyoung’s side

as if he was the only place you were ever going to be complete, and you figured that’s how it was since wooyoung was your home, he was everything you ever needed and he was the only thing that made you feel such otherworldly love

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez au #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung au #sfw #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #j.wooyoung #bee writes

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yinses · 4 years ago

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fractured kingdoms

| he made you a princess … it was only right for him to play the white knight |

one

gojo satoru rating: 18+

a/n: this will be a slow pet project for me. i’ve outlined what i want to accomplish so we’ll see if i can manage to meet my own goals. thank you for all the interest!

the ability to be lured out with food was dangerous- for her.

likely for humans too, for those who may have fallen for her charms. but aside from milking them dry she didn’t seem to have any ill intents. rather didn’t know what to do with them or why she should bother.

gojo didn’t know if she stayed around this area for a reason or if he just got lucky. he’d played around with possible back stories for her origin.

he would have assumed the factory had been the place of her death given that’s where he’d initially found her. but the fact that she was able as stray as far as she did after their meeting meant that she could have come from a lot further.

whether or not she was the accumulation of her own thoughts was a contender too. she didn’t need to be the same girl who died per say. with as many souls lost in this area alone, she could have been the combination of plenty- yet her personality was strong enough to bubble to the top.

she was an anomaly. but that was also why she was still alive and not exorcised without a second thought.

swinging the bag of treats, the crinkle of plastic replaced what would have been small tut for her attention. he wondered if that would have brought him more ire or favor.

fortunately the smell wafting from the still warm desserts did the work for him. that faint scent drifted past his nose again, something still annoying indescribable, came from above again.

“these are for you, princess,” he responded to her unasked question.

“wow, you actually came back.”

shaking the bag again, gojo made a noise of appreciation when she responded eagerly, watching quietly as she dropped down and snatched up the bag without so much of a thank you. maybe only some princesses actually showed gratitude to their subjects.

the building had been cleared of bodies but not properly cleaned. there were still distinctive dark pools still staining the floor that would undoubtedly linger. she seemed to have no problem plopping down near one as she opened the first container.

“oh! i love strawberries.”

there is was again. a small inking of what should be a preference, bred from past memories. he doubted he would get a straight answer if he probed. whether from her own attitude or lack of understanding- it was too early to tell.

instead he took a different route.

“this is a pretty dirty castle.”

there was a splotch of pink jam at the corner of her mouth. his hand twitched but nothing followed up.

“it’s not like i live here,” she scoffed.

his brow rose,” oh, but this is where i found you again.”

it was a false representation but the way her cheeks warmed at the attention carried her image as a human girl. he couldn’t feel the heat but there was a hint of shyness pinching at her cheeks.

unable to resist, he delved deeper.

“so then you were waiting for me all this time.”

that was no surprise. he didn’t expect for her to follow him home like a lost kitten after he bought her nice things. actually he’d hoped she’d come back here until he could return.

it took him three days, but it was more than enough time for the lower grades to purify the area. the reports read that all lingering spirits had been taken care of with little issue.

it was safe to assume that the curse before him was far from a small issue. so either she was capable enough to conceal her presence through a purge or she had drifted off somewhere else and returned. both were very intriguing concepts.

“i thought you had come back earlier but they were just annoying pests.”

ah the plot thickens. so she had been here.

sliding his freed hands into his pockets, gojo tilted his head to the side. “you mean my comrades. yes, they needed to clean up the mess your friends made.” before she could retort with they weren’t my friends, he added. “how did you feel when they showed up?”

she made a face,” i don’t know. fine, i guess.” she tore at the dough and fed herself smaller pieces. “annoyed maybe? it made my head hurt a little and there was this heaviness in my chest.”

she almost sounded concerned, so blissfully unaware that she had been resisting a reverse technique so effortlessly. the clean up had taken at least a day and a half. gojo doubted she could have escaped the barrier placed without alerting someone so she must have just endured.

funnily enough, he imagined that she would have been crankier.

when presented with an untouched raspberry filled daifuku, he almost smiled. actually he did one better, dramatically clinching a hand to his chest as he lowered to one knee.

the greatest shaman alive bowing to a curse.

“i wasn’t expecting you to share. how sweet.”

she scowls and looks like she might take it back but he doesn’t give her the opportunity. he was going to stop by again on the way home but this would help sate the craving. gojo offered a thank you in return.

“they were suppose to kill me, right? did you send them?”

what an observant creature. and the way she made her voice so small as if disturbed by the idea of being removed to safe humanity. she wasn’t immune to what she could have done, what those in her likeness had conducted in her stead.

gojo swiped the pad of his thumb against his tongue, savoring the lingering tangy sweetness. “yes. though not specifically you.”

he did put out the official request to ijichi, even if he hadn’t filled out the actual order. they would have certainly tried to end her and likely called him back after she showed any signs of intelligence.

“but you did good, kitten.” why was he praising her for evading his colleagues? maybe he was a little proud of her for surviving his test. “that means you're about as strong as i predicted. maybe even stronger.”

curious eyes shot him a glare at the admittance, but she still partook of his peace offering- now that it had informally coined as such.

“why does it matter if im strong enough? i don’t want to fight anyone.”

but she would. eventually have to fight, if solely for the reason to survive.

maybe it was considered treason, or something along those lines. but gojo was willing to cross into that territory and give her a fighting chance against the odds.

her hair was soft, he noted. more surprisingly she allows him to caress the top of her head with his palm. gojo had expected it to be as grimy as her environment.

there was no reason to extend this curses life any longer; even if she did put up a reasonable struggle he could succeed. yet here she sat, not necessarily open but trusting.

gojo’s face was a mask as her smaller hands toyed with one of the empty wrappers. she cast a questioning glance towards him,” will you help me?”

and who was he, her self proclaimed white knight, to deny such a request.

“of course, princess.”

it would be my honor.

“call me satoru.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #Jujutsu Kaisen #gojo blessings

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wingsofkpop · 3 years ago

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Hiraeth - I.X: Was it Worth it in the End? Part Two

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, very heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting and injury, weapons, blood and gore, brief mention of a mutilated animal corpse, minor character death, description of trauma and mental illness, brief mention of suicide, mentions of murder, satanic themes and ritual, etc.

Trigger Warning: This chapter does contain graphic and explicit themes regarding violence, trauma, and death. Please do not read if this will harm you. This is your final warning.

word count: 10,6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

The nighttime is hushed, almost anxious as Minho maneuvers his way past gravestones and overgrown shrubbery. It’s almost like nature itself is too afraid of accidentally provoking the witch, sensing the torpedo of dark magic and violent sorrow stirring through his veins. He peers up at the crimson moon, grateful for the illumination it provides, and continues down his path—ignorant of the cold air bleeding into his flesh.

Minho knows this is probably not the best time for a visit, aware that his ex-covenmates are likely plotting some sort of mission to overthrow him, but he doesn’t care—he can’t care anymore. A part of him, the shameful, guilty part of his mind. actually hopes they will succeed, at least then, he would no longer have to endure the pain that comes with bearing this black magic. He can feel its poison rushing through his veins, seering his body from the inside out, killing his soul over and over and over again…

But isn’t this what he wanted? Revenge? Retribution? Minho performed that spell to hurt the very friends that hurt him—to hurt Mark, and he got his wish… so why does it feel like the world is caving in around him, swallowing him whole?

Once he reaches his destination, Minho collapses to his knees, unable to bear the weight of his burdens. His eyes burn with tears, but he doesn’t allow himself to cry. A silent gust of wind strokes his cheeks, painting his skin red with bitterness and anger. He welcomes the cold air, accepting the punishment, before lifting his hand to splay his fingers against the even colder surface of the headstone.

“I’m sorry…” Minho whimpers, “It didn’t have to be like this…”

The silence heightens his anguish—deepens the wounds in his heart.

If he could take it all back, he would… but he can’t.

“I wish you were here, noona…”

His murmur is lost to the wind, but it doesn’t matter. He climbs back to his feet before sparing one final glance at the burial place of his lost friend. After a deep inhale and a wordless goodbye, Minho turns and hastily begins back toward the mausoleum.

He was allowed this one moment of weakness—now he must get back to the horrible reality he manifested for himself.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Can you be any more obvious…?”

Mark quickly awakens from his mindless trance, discovering, to his dismay, Dahyun looking down at him with a single raised, all-knowing eyebrow. He fakes a cough into his elbow before shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re kidding me, right?... You literally haven’t taken your eyes off of her since we met up in the forest.”

Heat immediately rises to Mark’s cheeks. As if on instinct, his eyes trail back to his subject of interest, watching as you wipe the sweat from Jaebeom’s girlfriend’s forehead and neck before shifting to do the same to Felix. It’s such a simple action, but you somehow look so ethereal—almost like an angel sent from heaven.

He curses himself for his own cheesiness, then releases a defeated sigh.

“We got into a pretty big fight earlier.”

“Then don’t you think you should—I don’t know—talk to her instead of staring her down like a creep?”

“I think the last thing she wants to do is talk to me.” Mark drags a hand through his hair. “I… said some really stupid shit in the heat of the moment. She probably hates me.”

Dahyun scoffs, “God, you are such a fucking idiot.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you need to get your ass over there and apologize to that girl.”

Her harsh tone doesn’t falter beneath his glare, nor does her tenacious expression as the two proceed with their silent staring contest. After a minute or two, Dahyun breaks off the competition with a long, heavy sigh. Her eyes are soft when she looks back at him, and suddenly Mark finds the dried mud on his shoes a lot more interesting.

“Mark, anyone can see how much you care about her—how much she cares about you.” Even when a gentle hand caresses his shoulder, the witch keeps his attention to the floor. “(Y/N) could never hate you—no matter how much stupid shit you pull.” She snickers, “And you pull a lot of stupid shit, so that has to account for something.”

He can’t help the amused chuckle that falls from his own lips.

“Thanks, Dubu.” Mark says, tilting his head to finally meet the warmth of her gaze.

“She’s a good one—a really good one, Mark.” The wolf hums, “Don’t let it be your fear that pushes her away.” She doesn’t give him a chance to reply further, pacing to a nearby corner to join a conversing Bang Chan and Yugyeom.

Sparing the wolf trio one final glance, Mark musters up the remaining courage he has left and pushes from his perch against the kitchen countertop. He forces himself to walk in your direction—each step releasing more butterflies into the confines of his stomach. Once he reaches you, close enough to touch your turned back, he almost chickens out, content with spending the rest of the night watching you like hawk, but the sound of Felix’s breathy voice locks him in place:

“—Channie-hyung and I have always wanted to go to Chicago… Is-Is it as windy as they say?”

“Even windier.” You say with a laugh. “I can’t tell you how many scarves I lost, and don’t get me started on how freaking cold the winters are.”

Felix laughs too, although it resonates as more of a wheeze than anything.

You shrug, “It’s a gorgeous city though—probably my most favorite place I’ve ever lived.”

“Then why did you leave? If you loved it so much?”

Mark’s interest piques when he notices how your figure grows tense at the young boy’s croak. He’s heard his fair share of stories of your heartfelt time in the Windy City, but he never quite figured out why you ultimately decided to move to Moon Dye Bay. You’ve always been reluctant to reveal certain details from your past, especially regarding your time in the foster system, but even then Mark has been able to pry the worst memories from your brain.

This subject, however, has been a brick wall.

“Because I couldn’t stay.” You finally answer, “It’s complicated, but something happened and basically I—”

“(Y/N)?”

He silently cusses as Felix interrupts your explanation, but his annoyance dissipates at the panicked expression etched along the teenager’s sweaty face.

“What is it, Felix?” You shift your position on his bedside to better face the boy, leaning forward to place a gentle hand on his forehead. Mark can only imagine how hot the skin is to the touch.

Felix’s words crack as they leave his lips, slicing at the witch’s heart like a dagger:

“Am… Am I gonna die?”

“Of course not.” You immediately say, but Mark can sense the uneasiness in your tone. “Everyone is doing everything they can to help you, okay?... You’re gonna get through this, and one day you and your brother are gonna go see Chicago yourselves and try not to get blown away into the next century.”

Felix sleepily chuckles, “Thanks, (Y/N).”

“You should get some sleep.” The moment the command leaves your lips, Felix is already closing his eyes and diving headfirst into dreamland. Not wanting to startle you, Mark waits a couple seconds—partly to give you time to regain your composure, and partly to give himself time to think of what to say. However, he doesn’t have much of a choice when you suddenly turn, growing aware of his presence. A frown overtakes your face, and he instantly regrets ever leaving his countertop.

“Did you need something?”

“No—yes, I mean—shit.” Mark buries a hand in his tresses to tug at his roots, attempting to juggle between putting together the right spoken words and reminding his body to breathe. “(Y/N), I—”

“If you came to apologize, I don’t want to hear it.” He helplessly watches as you rise from the bed before tossing your used rag on a nearby table. “I think you made yourself pretty clear back at my apartment.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said—” Before you can storm away, Mark latches his fingers around your wrist. “—please. Just give me a chance to explain.”

Your shoulders rise and fall in a heavy sigh, but you make no move to tear away from his grip and he takes it as a chance to continue:

“After my mom died, I was so fucking angry…” Mark notices your surprised gaze when you lift your head, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. “I was angry at the world, at her, at myself… and when my magic began to show up, things got a whole lot worse.” He shakes his head, “I thought about just ending it—jump into the bay or maybe drink myself to death—but then I met…”

“Then you met Jackson.”

“He taught me how to deal with the anger—to use it as a tool, not a weapon.” His eyes begin to burn at the countless memories that reel through his mind. “It was because of him I learned how to control my powers, and I was able to bring the coven together—hell, he was the one who told them to nominate me as Regent, which right now, seemed like the worst fucking decision on the planet.”

Mark takes a moment to blink away his tears before taking a seat on an empty cot. He still can’t find it in himself to glance at your face, keeping his eyes trained to the wooden flooring.

“But when Jackson had an idea, there was no stopping him.” He chuckles sarcastically, “The bastard was as stubborn as a goddamn mule.”

“What happened to Jackson, Mark?” Your voice is both a sweet lullaby and a screeching siren against his ears. “How did he die? Really?”

“The initial plan was to infuse enough magic into Jackson’s werewolf form so his venom would be lethal to the Primes, or at the very least, to Jinyoung. It all went smoothly in the beginning, I was able to channel enough power to complete the transformation… but something went wrong—

“—Jackson was different when he shifted. He was ruthless… He didn’t want to just kill the Primes—he wanted to slaughter every vampire along with those who protect the secrets of their existence… no matter if they were witch, werewolf, human—they all deserved to die…

“The combination of his determination and the bloodlust drove him fucking mad… If Jaebeom hadn’t ripped out his heart, there’s telling what he would have done—who he would have killed…”

Mark leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, attempting to hide his shame beneath the curl of his bangs. “—Jaebeom may have dealt the final blow, but Jackson died because the dark magic I used turned him into a monster—he’s dead because of me…”

Silence encompasses the room like a vice grip to the throat. For a moment, Mark believes you left him, too disgusted and ashamed to even breathe the same air as him, but the entrance of your worn boots into his vision proves otherwise. The image is replaced by your face when you kneel in front of his broken figure, laying your hands over each bicep. He notices your touch is gentle, but not hesitant, and warm—always so warm.

“You can’t blame yourself for his death, Mark.” Mark doesn’t realize he’s crying until you wipe a tear from his cheek. “How could you have known what that spell would do? You couldn’t have—”

“Magic always comes with price—especially dark magic.” He whispers, unable to hold back more liquid sadness as it trails down his skin. “(Y/N), if I ever lost you the same way I lost Jackson, my mom, I—”

Mark’s voice cuts out into a sob, and once your arms wind around his form, he completely breaks, releasing every ounce of repressed sadness and despair and pain into the crook of your neck. He knows he’s selfish for melting into your embrace—for consuming your comfort like a demon expelled from the heavens—but he doesn’t care.

When you guide his eyes to meet your own, Mark can spot the glassiness of your own orbs in the artificial light—along with enough compassion and ardor to send another flood of tears down his face.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” You affirm, your tone unwavering and stern. “I’m here—and no matter how many times you fall, I’m gonna be here to pick you up…

“I’m here, Mark… Do you understand me?”

He nods with a sniffle, tightly squeezing your hands between his own.

“I’m sorry.”

You smile at his apology.

“I’m sorry too… for everything.”

“Just… No more secrets. For real, this time.”

“For real, this time.” Mark’s heart rate picks up when he suddenly notices how close his face is to yours. From this angle, he can count the constellations glistening within your eyes and map the delicate curves of your facial features. If he were to lean just an inch closer, just one tiny inch, his lips would be on your own—

“Sorry to interrupt, but we have an issue.” At Yugyeom’s statement, you and Mark immediately wrench away from one another, almost as if having been caught engaging in forbidden territory. Mark pretends he doesn’t miss the weight of your hands inside his own as he rises from the cot, making sure to put an appropriate amount of distance between his and your shoulders.

He clears his throat before humming, “What’s going on?”

“Chan wants to go and find Chaeyoung’s body.” Although Yugyeom’s face remains neutral, Mark can see the sadness lingering within his eyes at the mention of his fallen packmate. “He doesn’t remember exactly where she was, so him, Dahyun, and I are going to search the forest.”

You immediately shake your head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sunrise isn’t for at least another hour, and we have no way of knowing Youngjae broke the curse yet.”

“I’m with (Y/N) on this one, Gyeom.” Mark agrees, “We’re safest here in the bunker.”

“We can’t just leave her out there. I mean, she—” Yugyeom cuts himself off with a heavy sigh, before continuing in a softer tone, “You know how it feels to lose someone, hyung… Chaeyoung is—was… our family.”

Mark takes a moment of silence to ponder, conflicted between his common sense and Yugyeom’s pleading gaze. As you said, sunrise is an hour away—but Youngjae, the coven and the Primes should have overthrown Minho by now, right? Plus, he literally blew Changbin’s head off with that shotgun. There’s no way his body could regenerate that quickly…

“We’re all staying together.” He finally says, moving toward the kitchenette to grab his weapon from its perch on the counter. “And if anything seems shady, it’s an immediate retreat.”

Yugyeom delivers a nod before heading off to gather the other wolves. Mark moves toward the bunker exit, but is stopped by your form. A heavy sigh cascades from his lips—just from your expression, he knows this conversation isn’t going to go his way.

“(Y/N)—”

“If you’re gonna tell me I can’t go with you, don’t even bother.”

He shakes his head, “It’s too dangerous…”

“If someone tells me that one more goddamn time—” He can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across his face at the sassy way you roll your eyes. And he doesn’t protest when you move to follow Dahyun up the ladder.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Youngjae inhales a deep breath, taking the moment to feel his lungs expand, before releasing the air in an even deeper exhale. Even with the relaxation attempt, his body remains tense and his thoughts disorderly. He can’t help but feel as if Minho is waiting somewhere in the darkness of the crypt, ready to pounce on him like a predator to its prey.

Would he toy with his catch first? Or would he skip the pleasantries and go right in for the kill?

A hand appears on his shoulder, wrenching Youngjae from his morbid daydream. He angles his head to meet Lia’s concerned gaze and immediately tries to mask his fear beneath an expression of indifference. Unsurprisingly, the female witch sees right through his facade:

“I’ve known you practically my whole life, Youngjae. Whatever it is, you can’t hide it from me.”

His shoulders sag in defeat as a sigh blows past his lips.

“I’m just… worried about Mark-hyung. He’s powerless out there.”

“Mark is smart—he’ll know what to do if he finds himself in trouble.”

“And if he doesn’t?... I-I mean, what if Minho or Changbin found him before he could warn the pack? He could be dead for all we know—”

Lia silences his desperate quip with a shake of her head, “You shouldn’t think like that right now—”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Youngjae runs a frustrated hand through his hair before gesturing toward the main exit of their underground penitentiary. “Even with yours and Jisung’s energy, I don’t have enough power to take down the barrier spell.”

“Help is on the way—”

“How do you know that for sure?”

Lia remains silent, simply continuing to stare at Youngjae. He feels almost uncomfortable beneath her gaze, resisting the urge to shrink back and become one with the shadows.

“I don’t know… but I have faith.” She murmurs after a brief moment. “We’ve lost a lot, but I still believe that we’ll all somehow manage to come out of this alive. You should try doing the same.”

With that, Lia leaves to speak with a dangerously quiet Jisung. Youngjae spares the pair a single glance before heading toward the crypt entryway. A single beam of moonlight illuminates the exit stairway, almost as if mocking him about his inability to escape the dingy prison.

Youngjae knows Lia is right—of course she’s right. Worrying about the possible pitfalls of this plan won’t help him, or Mark, or anyone. He can only pray that his mentor safely found his way out of the cemetery and is sending backup right this very moment.

He needs to have hope, if nothing else.

“What if we somehow lure Minho down here?” Youngjae’s thoughts quiet at Lia’s suggestion, angling his head to meet her gaze. “Technically Youngjae just needs to touch him to siphon his magic… so why don’t we bring him to us?”

“Minho-hyung won’t step past the barrier.” Jisung dissents, dragging his fingers through his already tousled hair. “He probably knows we’re planning something against him, so there’s no way he’ll believe whatever ruse we try to pull.”

“Then we have no choice. Youngjae, are you sure you can’t take down the spell?”

Youngjae sullenly shakes his head.

“Is there something else you can siphon? Maybe the crypt itself?”

“The crypt was built by humans.” He answers, “I can only draw power from the supernatural—”

“Then it’s a good thing my dear brother and I weren’t turned into superwolf bait.”

Youngjae, along with the other witches, nearly leaps a foot in the air at the sudden voice. He whirls around to face the stairwell, which to his surprise, is now occupied by the last person he ever expected to see:

Im Jaebeom.

Jisung chokes, scurrying backward into the shadows as the hybrid approaches the trio. After taking purchase against the doorway, he offers his signature sly smirk.

“Evening, Harry Potter and friends… Funny meeting you down here.”

“Now is not the time for games, hyung.” Youngjae breathes a sigh of relief as Jinyoung’s voice echoes throughout the stone walls. Seconds later, he comes hustling down the staircase before shoving Jaebeom out of the way. The vampire then peers into the crypt, his gaze burning with the determination of a man at war. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No. We’re okay.” Lia steps forward. “If you’re here, I’m guessing Mark reached the wolf pack?”

“Your guess is correct.” Jinyoung nods, placing a hand against the invisible doorway. “My brother and I will do everything we can to help disarm the rogue, but I think it’d be best to free you all first.”

Youngjae joins the conversation. “I can take down the barrier spell, but I’ll need to draw energy from one of you to do so.”

“Let’s do this quickly then.” Jinyoung goes to roll up the sleeve of his white shirt, but is halted by his immortal companion. Surprise filters through Youngjae’s veins as Jaebeom shrugs the leather jacket from his shoulders with a huff:

“With my luck, he’ll drain you dry and I’ll have to deal with this voodoo fucker myself. I think it’s best we use my energy—sorry not sorry.”

“Alright, then.” Youngjae hums, “I’ll need you to push through the barrier just enough that I can touch you… It’s gonna hurt. A lot.”

“Good thing I’m a sadomasochist.” Jaebeom snickers at his brother’s unamused expression, “Too much?”

“Move your hand through that goddamn barrier before I throw you to the superwolf myself.”

The hybrid rolls his eyes, but follows Jinyoung’s instructions and proceeds to force his limb past the invisible blockade. He remains silent, but Youngjae can spy the uncomfortable twitch of his eyebrow and the tension along his stone-cold features. Blood begins to bud along his knuckles like a patch of blooming roses before flowing down his pale skin the more he presses against the barrier.

The siphoner raises his hand in preparation. “Just a bit more.”

A mere couple seconds later, Youngjae feels Jaebeom’s bloody flesh brush against his own. The skin-to-skin contact is slight, but enough, allowing the hybrid’s energy to spread through his veins like wildfire. Youngjae almost cries in relief as the magic conquers his entire body—a new kind of hope sparking somewhere within his chest.

“Phasmatos Siprum… Emnis Abortum…” Youngjae murmurs, positioning both hands against the invisible wall. He feels it crumbling beneath his fingertips, unable to withstand the power flowing through his figure. “Fasila Quisa Exilum San… Fasila Quisa Exilum San…”

A proud grin stretches along his features as the barrier buckles, then completely shatters. With Lia and Jisung in tow, Youngjae beelines out of the crypt and into the stairwell where Jaebeom, who’s cleaning the crimson from his knuckles, and Jinyoung reside. The latter nods, which Youngjae is quick to return.

“‘Kay, they’re free… Now what?”

“Now we find Minho and end this once and for all.” Lia answers, not sparing the hybrid a glance as she dashes up the stairs. Youngjae and the rest of the group try to keep up with the female witch as best as they can, not faltering until they reach the surface. The cemetery is quiet when they emerge from the crypt, Youngjae notices—almost too quiet.

He takes a short moment to breathe in the fresh night air before turning to a tense Jinyoung, “I need to get close enough to siphon Minho’s magic to perform the counterspell. You think you and your brother can find me a way in?”

Jinyoung nods. “You can count on us.”

“Stay close…” Lia warns with a sigh, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard already knows we’re free—”

Lightning suddenly strikes a mere few feet from where Lia is standing, earning a chorus of screams and surprised gasps from the witch trio. Youngjae watches as Jinyoung speeds forward, grabbing Lia just in time to avoid being burnt to a crisp by a second bolt. With Jisung at his side, Youngjae quickly takes shelter underneath the overhang of a nearby tomb as even more lightning bombards the earth. He surveys the area, searching for the perpetrator responsible for the weather abnormalities.

“Minho!...” Lia screeches from behind a large tree, her tone far less than friendly. “Quit being a fucking coward! Come out here and face us goddamnit!...”

Youngjae huddles closer to Jisung as the wind suddenly picks up, ripping at his hair and clothing like a vengeful spirit. He moves to speak to his younger companion, but his words die on his tongue as the subject of the hour waltzes into view. The heavy gusts don’t seem to affect him, though that’s no surprise since the wretched weather is his doing.

Minho smirks, “They say lightning never strikes one place twice… You must be really special then, Lia.”

“Oh fuck off! We’re tired of playing your stupid games!”

“This only ends one way, Minho—” Jinyoung says, cautiously moving from Lia’s side to approach the powerful witch. His steps, however, are halted by another vicious bolt of electricity. Youngjae attempts to make out Jaebeom’s form through the blurriness of his wind-induced tears, but the hybrid is nowhere to be found. “—so we can do it the easy way, or the hard way! The choice is yours!”

“Last I checked, this isn’t your fight, Prime.”

“It became my fight the moment you threatened my family and my friends!”

Minho snickers, “Trust me, I had every intention of ridding this town of you and your brother’s filth.”

“Was it also your intention to kill an innocent werewolf girl!?” Youngjae’s heart drops at the vampire’s following statement. “Son Chaeyoung is dead because of Changbin—because of you!”

“Every war has its casualties.”

“And what of Felix!? Will his death just be another trivial loss in your obsession for revenge!?”

This time, Youngjae notices the cockiness melt from Minho’s features into something akin to trepidation. The wailing of the wind picks up to a screech, nearly drowning out the dark-haired witch’s weak inquiry, “What are you talking about?”

“Felix was bitten… and is dying as we speak!” Jinyoung shakes his head frantically. “Do you believe he deserves this, Minho!? Do you believe Chaeyoung deserved to die!?... You can fix this—make this right!”

Minho remains silent, and for a moment, Youngjae wonders if the witch will actually come to his senses and call off this whole ordeal. But just as soon as it appeared, the pained look along his features transitions into something more sinister.

“We’re all gonna die someday, so what does it even fucking matter!?”

“Are you hearing yourself!?” Lia screams from behind a nearby tree, “Look what you’ve become, Minho! How would Nayeon see you right now!”

“Don’t bring her into this!” Minho’s hiss blends with the moans of the wind. Massive raindrops begin to pelt down against the earth, immediately soaking Youngjae to the bone. For the first time, he notices the dark witch’s position in relation to his own. Realistically, Youngjae can be at Minho’s side in mere milliseconds, before he has a chance to blink. If only he can get him to move a bit closer…

As if reading his thoughts, Jinyoung attempts to coax the witch another step forward.

“Please, Minho… I don’t wish to hurt you.”

The latter shakes his head with a chuckle. “It’s too fucking bad that you think you can.”

Minho raises his hand, harshly forcing the vampire down against the muddy earth. Youngjae watches in horror as Jinyoung’s limbs begin to contort and rearrange against his own will—the sound of cracking bones and the vampire’s pained groans filling his ears like a haunting melody. He forces his gaze away from the gruesome sight and prepares to advance on the dark witch, but Jisung stops him with a hand to his shoulder:

“Not yet, hyung.”

“But Jinyoung—”

“Trust me.” His eyes are wide with determination—Youngjae can’t remember a time he’s ever seen Jisung so fierce. “I have a plan. Wait here until my signal.”

Though filled with confusion, Youngjae does as the young witch requests and stays in place while Jisung himself carefully maneuvers his way through gravestones and buildings, attempting to remain out of sight. A sudden burst of lightning cracks through the atmosphere, and at first, Youngjae fears Jisung has been caught, but quickly realizes Minho has his sights set on another party:

“I was wondering when you’d join the fun—I looked forward to tearing your bitch-ass apart.”

“I would say I’m flattered, but I rather like my ass.” Jaebeom saunters across a nearby rooftop. In the midst of the storm, he almost reminds Youngjae of a superhero—or more likely in his case, the psychotic supervillain. “Look, you’ve had your fun, kid. Now I suggest you release my brother and cut out all this petty-teenage bullshit before I break your body in places you never thought possible.”

“That’s it?... And here I thought you’d want the antidote?”

Jaebeom’s face darkens.

“...So there is a cure?”

“Of course. Every spell has its loophole.” Minho finally lowers his hand, ceasing the painful reconstruction of Jinyoung’s skeleton. Youngjae watches in confusion as the former retracts something from his pocket—some sort of vial, it seems—and offers it toward the hybrid. “The blood which Changbin drank to turn—it’ll heal anyone fallen victim to his bite.”

“You better hand that over before I rip your teeth from your skull.” Jaebeom growls darkly, hopping down from his overhead perch.

The witch shakes his head, “Not so fast, Mr. Wolf… See, there was only so much left—enough to heal one lucky soul.”

“You’re a sick fucking bastard,” Jaebeom spits. “You wanted this to happen—”

“Your little bloodsucking girlfriend is dying, isn’t she?” Minho tosses the vial toward the hybrid, who effortlessly catches it between two trembling fingers. “If you want to save her life, then I suggest you go before the venom does its job.”

“Jaebeom-hyung, don’t—!” Jinyoung gasps, slithering across the muddy earth like an earthworm lost to the world.

“You know she doesn’t have much time—”

“We can’t do this without you—we need you!... I need you, hyung!”

Jaebeom, staring at the tiny container in his grasp, doesn’t reply to his incapacitated companion. Youngjae curses the smirk that spreads across Minho’s face—a sign of victory—and attempts to spot Jisung and Lia somewhere between the ferocious raindrops. He has no such luck, and instead decides to pray for a miracle instead.

“If you hadn’t fucked around with the few people I care about, I might have actually liked you.” Jaebeom murmurs with a sigh before tucking the vial into his pocket and sending the dark witch a malicious sneer. “Well isn’t that too fucking bad.”

Youngjae leaps almost ten feet in the air as lightning strikes for what seems like the millionth time, although this time, it’s inches from where Minho is standing. After searching the area, Youngjae discovers Lia and Jisung across the way, hands clasped, eyes bright with passion, uttering some sort of offensive charm. Minho attempts to sprint in the opposite direction, but Jaebeom easily tackles the witch before he can get far.

“Now Youngjae-hyung! Do it now!”

At Jisung’s cue, Youngjae takes off into the rain. The bitter feel of Mother Nature’s tears against his skin quickens his movements, wanting nothing more then to end this hurricane, both literally and figuratively, once and for all. He reaches Minho in what seems like hours and hurries to grab his wrist—but just like the tides during a storm, the tables quickly turn.

At the wave of Minho’s hand, Jaebeom goes flying across the cemetery, crashing into a stone statue and collapsing into the resulting rumble. White-hot pain spreads through Youngjae’s veins like a poison, freezing his muscles and immobilizing his limbs from any further movement. He collapses to the ground, where mud immediately clings to his clothing.

Minho rises to his feet before stepping on Youngjae’s hand with a cackle, “Don’t you fuckers get it!? I’m untouchable! You can’t fucking win!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Minho…” Youngjae chuckles, curling his fingers around the tread of the dark witch’s boot. Minho realizes his mistake as soon as the former’s hand begins to glow, foolishly attempting to squirm from his touch.

Thunder roars in the distance as Youngjae grins in triumph:

“Because unlike you… we’re not alone.”

The last thing Youngjae sees before he loses consciousness is a flash of white and the bewildered face of the dark witch as he collapses beside him.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I take it Mark apologized?...” You nearly leap out of your own skin at the sudden inquiry. With a less than agitated frown, you turn to acknowledge the culprit for your almost heart attack. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear some of these supernaturals have powers of teleportation or something…

“Goddamnit, Dahyun. Not all of us have superwolf hearing.”

“Sorry, dearie. Force of habit.” The she-wolf offers an apologetic smile, moving forward to hook her arm with your own. She allows Yugyeom, Chan and Mark to gain a bit of distance ahead before repeating again, “So Mark…?”

“We both talked it out and apologized… so everything’s okay now.” You hum—the tiny fib leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Truthfully, your encounter with Mark left you conflicted. Of course, you’re more than glad he finally opened up about his past, and even more glad that he trusts you enough to reveal his lingering feelings of trauma, but there’s still a pretty big fucking elephant in the room—one involving his dead best friend and the fact you can talk to him beyond the grave.

You should have told him then and there—right after you promised to abolish all secrets—but something inside you couldn’t do it… and you don’t know why.

“Why are you so interested in Mark and I’s relationship anyway?” You utilize your curiosity as a distraction from the guilt breathing down your neck, angling your neck to peer at Dahyun’s side profile. “Is there… history between you two?”

“No, no—nothing like that. Mark and I have just known each other since we were kids. Our moms were close friends, so Mark, Yugyeom and I pretty much grew up together.”

“He never told me that.”

“Don’t take it personal, sweetheart. Mark doesn’t like to talk about his past—” Dahyun sighs, “—too many bad memories between his dad and the bullshit that happened with his mom. He’ll come around eventually… he just needs more time.”

“I know his mom passed when he was a teenager, but Mark never actually mentioned how she died…” You bite your lip, sending a curious glance to your wolf companion. “It’s really not fair to ask you, but—”

“Mark found her in their own kitchen with her entire throat ripped open.” Dahyun’s blunt answer leaves your throat dry, unable to speak another word if you wanted to. “The sheriff ruled it as an animal attack, but I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out what really happened.”

Your heart sinks, and you choose not to say anything further.

“Dahyun! (Y/N)! Don’t get too far behind!” Chan’s voice echoes from somewhere up ahead. With the black of night beginning to fade, you can just make out his, Yugyeom, and Mark’s silhouettes a couple dozen feet away. Dahyun gives your forearm a gentle squeeze before releasing your conjoined limbs to catch up with her packmates. You do the same, meeting an armed Mark about halfway.

His eyes glitter with concern underneath the fading starlight.

“Everything okay…?”

“Yeah, Dahyun and I were just catching up.” You inhale a deep breath before releasing it in an even heavier exhale. “But there is something I need to talk to you about—about Jackson and the whole resurrection thing.”

Mark shakes his head, “You have every right to make your own decisions, (Y/N), but I wish you and Youngjae would have come to me.”

“I know that, but it was more complicated than that—” You try to gather your thoughts while also attempting to make sense of your words. “I couldn’t tell you because, well—because Jackson told—”

“Mark-hyung! We’ve got an issue!” Yugyeom’s warning immediately cuts off your explanation. Mark shoots you an apologetic glance before hurrying the two of you forward to join the wolf trio. It only takes seconds for you to distinguish the cause of the beta’s distress.

A deer carcass lays precariously on the forest floor, and albeit it’s practically torn to shreds, you can just make out a single word carved into its bloody flesh:

Die.

“Shit—we need to go. Now.”

“We’ve already come this far. Chae should be around here somewhere.” Chan ignores Mark’s directive, stepping over the animal corpse to traverse further through the forest. He barely takes a step before the witch is grabbing his wrist. “Let me go, hyung.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Don’t tell me what to—”

“Shut the fuck up. Both of you.” Dahyun quietly hisses, “Listen.”

You try to do as the she-wolf says, but all that meets your ears is the combination of your own labored breathing and uneven pulse. Judging by the confused expression along Mark’s face, he’s probably dealing with the same situation.

“What is it?”

“We’re being watched.” Yugyeom answers Mark’s inquiry in a whisper. “Mark, you and (Y/N) need to find somewhere to hide right now—Chan, Dubu, get ready to fight—”

As soon as the command leaves Yugyeom’s lips, Mark takes you by the arm and drags you behind a broad tree trunk. You fish Jinyoung’s pocket knife from your pocket while Mark cocks his shotgun in preparation. Who knew the day would come that you’d actually be grateful for the presence of two dangerous weapons…

“If anything goes wrong—you run like hell, got it?”

You shake your head at Mark’s demand. “I’m not just going to leave you—”

“Yugyeom! Above you!” At Chan’s warning, you’re suddenly shoved to the ground by the witch, watching in horror as a deranged Changbin descends from the treetops onto the beta himself. His skin is a sickly ashen shade, and his black veins so prominent it would make a nurse weep. There’s no human emotion left inside his dark eyes as he strikes Yugyeom over and over again with his lengthy sharp talons, tearing open his skin like a birthday present—he’s a complete animal.

“Bin, stop!” Chan throws his arms around Changbin’s shoulders in an attempt to pull him from Yugyeom, winding a tight arm around his throat before thrusting a knee against his spine. “Think about what you’re doing!”

With Dahyun’s assistance, the two wolves manage to separate the dark wolf from that of Yugyeom’s wounded self. Even so, Changbin clearly does not appreciate being stolen away from his prey. He easily escapes from Chan’s hold, landing a couple heavy hits against the latter’s nose before shoving him to the ground. Dahyun takes the moment to strike, bringing the dark wolf to kneel with a harsh kick to his knee, but the action does minimal damage. Changbin punts the she-wolf a dozen feet away as if she weighs nothing. You wince as Dahyun connects with a nearby tree trunk with a vocal thud before dropping to the ground with no movements of rejoining the fight.

“Shit…” You curse to yourself, “They won’t be able to take him down by themselves—he’s too fucking strong.”

“Watch your ears.” You notice Mark aiming his gun toward the dark wolf, waiting for an opportunity with his finger on the trigger. At his discretion, you cover your ears just in time for him to fire a first and second shot. A ferocious growl echoes through the trees, spreading goosebumps across your flesh like wildfire.

You watch both Chan and Yugyeom take advantage of Changbin’s distraction. The alpha delivers a swift, yet heavy hit against his wounded shoulder while the beta goes for his legs. Similar to Dahyun, they manage to pin Changbin to the forest floor. For a moment, you almost believe the fight has concluded in your team’s favor—but the tides shift. In the blink of an eye, Chan is impaled with a large jagged branch and sent tumbling into some foliage whereas Yugyeom is dealt punch after strike after kick, unable to escape the barrage of Changbin’s wrath. He eventually, like the former two, collapses to the earth and makes no move to rise.

Changbin cracks his neck before stalking toward where you and your companion stand.

“Mark—”

“I got it!” Mark quickly feeds another couple shells into the shotgun barrel, cocks the weapon, then aims down sight. He manages to sink a bullet into your target’s abdomen, followed by another in his bicep, but Changbin merely releases an annoyed snarl and continues charging forward.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—(Y/N), move!” You leap out of the way just in time to avoid a powerful strike. Changbin’s hand splinters the trunk of the tree, sending pieces of bark in every direction. A particular shard catches the bridge of your nose, causing blood to warmly cascade down your skin. You quickly wipe the liquid from your right eye, ignoring the nausea fluttering inside your gut, before focusing back on the situation at hand.

You look up in time to watch Mark swing his shotgun harshly against Changbin’s skull. Taking advantage of his disorientation, you rush forward to stab your pocket knife into the wolf’s back. Changbin practically roars in fury, angling backward to land a hit to your face before you have time to react. The force of his strike throws you to the ground, a sharp pain lingering in your left cheek.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Mark throws himself against Changbin, delivering hit after hit to anything and anywhere. Still, Mark’s human strength does little to outbeat the dark wolf, and you watch in horror as Changbin effortlessly pins the witch against his chest with a bloody hand around his throat. You desperately search for something, anything, in hopes of saving Mark from whatever deadly fate awaits Changbin’s bloodlust, but fate doesn’t seem to be on your side.

“Changbin—please don’t do this!” You cry, praying to some type of deity that the wolf is sane enough to understand your words. Even so, your confidence is low, seeing as talking clearly had no effect during your last encounter, but you’re fresh out of options at this point. “You know this isn’t who you are!”

To your surprise, Changbin actually answers, “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Maybe not, but I know you don’t actually want to hurt anyone…” You cautiously rise to your feet with a shake of your head, wary of the tight hold Changbin currently has on Mark’s jugular. “Your thoughts are all sorts of fucked up right now because of the dark magic, so why don’t you just let Mark go and we can—”

“Don’t you fucking get it! This fucker—” He yanks at Mark with more force than necessary, “—took everything from me! He took my pack, my alpha—the only people I ever felt safe with!”

“I understand you—”

“No, you don’t!” Changbin wails, “You can’t even imagine how I feel! How fucking hard it is to wake up in a world you know you’ll never belong! How much it fucking hurts just to go on and pretend like everything’s normal when it’s fucking not!”

“Tell him it’s okay to feel angry—” You whirl your head around to find a seemingly exhausted, yet wild-eyed Jackson Wang at your side. “—but none of this was Mark’s fault.”

You’re mortified at first, having never encountered the ghost anywhere outside your bedroom—but whether it’s the desperation etched along his features, or the flush of purple that overtakes Mark’s complexion—you quickly transfer back to reality:

“Changbin, it’s perfectly normal to feel angry and cheated, but this wasn’t Mark’s fault—deep down, I think you know that.”

“What does it fucking matter anymore? I’m all alone anyways.” The pure agony etched along his face has your heart splitting in two.

You’ve never seen a creature so strong and so powerful look so… vulnerable.

“You said the exact same thing to me when we first met…” Jackson murmurs softly.

“You told Jackson you were alone at one point too…”

An obvious wave of tense silence washes through the forest, making the beat of your heart that much more prominent in your ears.

Changbin’s whisper is dark—dangerous. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“Because… Because he’s here, Changbin.” You say, your eyes meeting Mark’s as the words leave your tongue. “You’re not alone because Jackson is still here.”

You don’t know what kind of reaction you expected from your revelation, but it certainly is not the heinous laughter that spills from the dark wolf’s lips.

“You must have lost your goddamn mind… Jackson-hyung is dead!”

“Maybe physically, but his spirit still remains.”

“You mean—” You turn to discover a bewildered Yugyeom unsteadily leaning against a tree, “—his… ghost? You—You can see his ghost?”

You nod.

Changbin sneers with a low growl. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

“There’s a cliffside back along the bay about twenty miles from the lodge,” Jackson begins, his tone a blend of nostalgic and sorrowful. “Changbin and I used to go there to watch the full moon rise before we turned into our wolf forms… I-I’ve missed that so much…”

“You and Jackson would always watch the full moon rise on a cliff overlooking the bay before you transitioned,” You repeat. “He says he misses those moments with you…”

“Stop it!” Changbin frantically shakes his head, “You’re lying!”

“He’s here, Changbin… He’s really here.” You move forward again, more confidently this time, and raise your hands in a sympathetic gesture. “And the last thing he wants is for you to make the same mistakes he did, so please—let Mark go and let us help you…”

It’s as if time freezes for a moment. Changbin seems to fight a battle with himself—countless emotions rushing through his teary eyes. You watch the dark wolf glance toward an unconscious Dahyun and Chan, then to a silent Yugyeom, before finally setting his focus back to you. You can only pray your face reflects the hope swirling throughout your veins—pray that Changbin will do the right thing.

To your delight, the blackness of his veins gradually begin to fade and the sharp claws protruding from his fingertips recede. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until Changbin finally retracts his hold from Mark’s neck. You’re quick to take the unsteady witch in your own arms before sending the now normal wolf a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Changbin…”

He nods shyly before wiping a couple tears from his cheeks. You watch as Yugyeom cautiously makes his way toward the younger boy, murmurs something, then tugs the latter into a tight embrace that pulls even more liquid sadness from his eyes. The sight has your heart melting into a puddle of warmth—the emotion doesn’t last though, not when Mark’s dark croak enters your ears:

“You… can see Jackson…”

You shrug sheepishly, “I wanted to tell you, but he said not to… He didn’t want to hurt you anymore than he already had.”

Mark remains silent. You try to search for his features for some kind of anger or disappointment, but are only awarded with his surface level blank stare. Worry flooding through your veins, you look to Jackson for any possible guidance, but the ghost merely shakes his head.

After a couple tense seconds or so, Mark finally murmurs, “Jack… I—I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Jackson says immediately, “If only I had listened to you, then maybe things would have played out different.”

“He says it wasn’t your fault—he should have listened to you.”

“We both made some pretty shitty mistakes.” Mark hums, “I miss you, man. So fucking much.”

You don’t wait for Jackson to reply, already knowing his answer.

“He misses you too, Mark. Just as much.”

“How is this even possible…?” You and Mark turn to find the shocked gaze of Yugyeom, who is closely followed by the despair of that belonging to Changbin. “Supernaturals can’t even see spirits, much less mortals…”

“We never exactly figured that out. Jackson said he felt drawn to me from the Other Side—he kind of just showed up in my bedroom the night after Mina and Momo died.”

“Any contact with the dead usually requires some sort of spell or medium.” Mark bites his lip in confusion. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, not even in any of my mother’s grimoires—”

“Jackson!” Your body grows rigid as Jackson suddenly collapses to the ground with a pained groan. You hurry forward, kneeling next to the man, and reach for his shoulder. The realization of his phantom existence hits you like a bag of bricks when your fingers phase through his form. You settle for calling his name again instead, “Jackson—what’s wrong?”

“What the hell is going on?” You hear Changbin stress from somewhere behind you, but your focus is completely on the ghost in question.

Jackson lifts his head with a gasp, revealing a line of blood dripping from his nose. “I-It’s the witches!... They know about our plans—they’re trying to force me back to the Other Side—”

“(Y/N)?”

You shake your head feverishly, “It’s, uh, it’s the witches on the Other Side—they don’t like Jackson crossing over, so they’re trying to bring him back…”

Mark nods. “Witches, dead or alive, will do anything to maintain the balance of nature.”

“(Y/N)—shit—I don’t have a lot of time—” Your chest tightens at the urgency behind Jackson’s words. “I know so much just went down, but—”

“Don’t worry, Jack. I won’t let you disappear again.” You affirm before climbing to your feet to face your new subject of interest. “Mark—I need you to perform the resurrection spell.”

“Woah, wait—” Mark shakes his head, “(Y/N), I can’ t—”

“If we don’t resurrect him now, then Jackson is gone forever!” Your warning spreads a new tension across the atmosphere, manifesting in the form of sullen and panicked expressions. “Please, Mark—we have a chance to bring him back!”

“I can’t do the spell because I don’t have any magic…” Your heart sinks at Mark’s revelation. “Minho absorbed all my magical energy back at the graveyard… I’m so sorry, Jackson…”

“Hold on, you told me that there’s different types of magic…” You push, “Can’t you draw energy from something? Like the forest, or the moon, or, or—”

“Or me.” You turn, discovering the speaker of the response to be none other than a determined Changbin. “Minho-hyung’s spell may be gone, but I can still feel the magical energy lingering through my body.”

Mark hesitates, “I-I don’t know if it will work… and if something goes wrong—”

“Do you want Jackson-hyung back or not?...”

A moment of silence passes after Changbin’s question. You keep an eye on a repeatedly wincing Jackson, and the other on the witch’s face, attempting to decipher his thoughts inside the glow of his gaze. For a moment, you wonder if Mark will even provide an answer, until the words finally leave his lips:

“Fuck the balance of nature. I’ll bring you back, Jackson—I promise.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung stares at the sun as it gradually rises past the horizon, bathing his skin in a warm, celebratory light. His gaze wavers across the cemetery to the notorious mausoleum, where he watches Lia and Jisung carefully assist a barely conscious Youngjae past the doorway. After this crazy night, the siphoner definitely deserves a good, long rest. Then again, so does everyone else.

He releases a heavy sigh before shifting away from the witch trio. After sparing one final glance to the sunrise, Jinyoung allows his feet to carry him through the early morning glow, past countless tombstones and other structures, and settles beside a second figure in front of a particular burial site. He silently reads the engravings along the headstone before addressing his companion without so much as a glimpse:

“I assumed you would be halfway back to the bunker by now.”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond, not that Jinyoung really expects him to. He peers at the hybrid through the corner of his eye, attempting to seek meaning beyond his blank features. Centuries later, Jinyoung still can’t predict the workings of Jaebeom’s inner thoughts. Especially when it comes to the situation at hand.

“Mark called. Changbin is no longer affected by Minho’s spell.” He explains, “They’re also preparing a ritual to resurrect Jackson Wang—”

“Tzuyu…?”

Jinyoung’s chest tightens as the name falls from Jaebeom’s lips.

“Their youngest, Ryujin, is looking after both her and Felix.”

“So she’s still alive…?”

“It seems so.”

A brief moment of silence passes between the pair. The earth grows brighter and brighter as the seconds roll by, reminding Jinyoung that time is a friend to no one.

“Hyung, did you… truly switch off your humanity?”

“I did, at first.” Jaebeom’s answer is quiet, and Jinyoung can detect the subtle hint of vulnerability hidden beneath his gruff tone. “But I guess I can never completely turn it off.”

“It’s alright to feel, hyung—be it anger… or passion… or fear…”

Jinyoung notices Jaebeom shift uncomfortably before glancing down at the glass vial in the palm of his hand. For once, he can actually distinguish the emotions present within the hybrid’s dark eyes. The knowledge only jabs at his heart.

“Everything is taken care of, right?”

“The night has ended, and Minho is safely sealed away in the crypt.” Jinyoung nods, “We live to see another day.”

He watches his companion tuck the precious vial into the pocket of his jeans before turning away from the headstone. Jinyoung is not sure where the urge comes from, but he abandons his perch, grabbing Jaebeom’s shoulder before he can leave the cemetery. He ignores the hybrid’s confused expression and pulls him into a tight embrace.

“Thank you for staying, hyung…” Jinyoung’s murmur is slightly muffled against the fabric of his jacket, but he knows his companion heard them loud and clear.

Jaebeom hesitates for a moment, clearly taken aback by the sudden act, but eventually winds his arms loosely around Jinyoung’s back with a gentle murmur of his own:

“You will always be my family, Jinyoung… Always and forever…”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I’ve never used magic like this before, so I can’t promise this will work.” Mark glances to where he assumes Jackson’s spirit is located inside the white circle makeshifted out of a bag of flour Dahyun managed to find in a bunker cabinet, before glancing to the companion at his side. “You sure you’re up for this? It’ll feel like I’m literally sucking the life force out of your body…”

Changbin nods, “If it means bringing Jackson-hyung back.”

“Okay, then.” Mark turns to the surrounding crowd next, “In order to do this, I’ll need to lower the veil to the Other Side. This will create a temporary door that Jackson can pass through to physically enter our realm. Once he crosses over, he should become mortal again.”

“Seems easy enough.” Dahyun snickers, although the sound is dry and forced. “Anything else we need to know?”

“Whatever happens, do not enter the circle.” His eyes drift from the she-wolf to your silent form. As if sensing the scrutiny, your gaze connects with his own, and knowing he has your attention, Mark continues in a darker tone, “Just as spirits can pass into our realm, we can cross to the Other Side… so for the love of god, don’t do anything stupid.”

Your and Mark’s staring contest ceases when your head snapes toward the circle. Seconds later, you break the tense silence with a soft murmur, “Jackson says it’s getting worse. He can feel the witches trying to drag him back.”

“Then I guess that’s our cue.” He sighs before nodding toward the circle one last time, “I’m gonna do my best, Jack. Just hold on.”

With one final glance to the grimoire you gave him earlier, Mark inhales a deep breath and takes Changbin’s outstretched hand into his own. He closes his eyes, focusing every part of his brain on the electrifying sensation of the magical energy coursing through the wolf’s body. Bit by bit, he feels Changbin’s power bleeding into his own veins, awakening the slumbering supernatural nature of his soul. Once he’s sure enough he’s acquired enough magic, Mark opens his eyes and begins the incantation:

“Vita mortem, mortem vita est… Partis inferioris velum, partis inferioris ante illum vetum…” Almost instantly, the wind picks up while the air grows uncomfortably cold. He ignores the violent shivers wracking through his limbs and proceeds to repeat the words as the temperature continues to drop. With each spoken syllable, Mark’s head becomes dizzy and his flesh feels as if it’s being scorched off, but he continues.

No amount of pain could ever dull the hope of seeing his best friend alive once more.

“Holy shit—it’s actually working!”

Mark doesn’t realize he had shut his eyes until he opens them, nearly yelping in delight when he discovers the image of said friend standing in the center of the white circle. Jackson looks no different than the day he last saw him, and he can’t decide if he wants to laugh out of irony or burst into tears.

“The veil is down! I’m gonna start the spell to cross you over!” Mark yells over the howling of the wind, clutching Changbin’s hand tighter as he transitions to the next phase of the spell. “Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet ohnaz eespalit… Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet—fuck!”

A brutal force comes down against his head, almost resembling that of a punch, before spreading hot fire down his neck and to the rest of his body. Mark doubles over with a wheeze, attempting to fight against the painful sensations by grounding himself in Changbin’s touch. However, as soon as the first wave concludes, a second, even more excruciating one follows. He feels as if someone is trying to crush his brain—to kill him from the inside out.

“Mark-hyung! What’s wrong!?”

“It’s the witches!...” Mark is thankful that Jackson answers Yugyeom’s panicked inquiry, “They’re trying to break the spell!”

“Like… hell they will…” Mark hisses, righting himself with a pained groan before grabbing Changbin’s other hand. “I’m not going down without a fight—hold on!...”

He jumps back into the spell, weakening the manipulated pain through the absorption of more of the wolf’s energy. Borderline high off the power, he pushes everything he has into the ritual, determined to see it through to the end. After a minute that passes like a decade, Mark detects a shift in the atmosphere, indicating the near completion of the spell, and shouts:

“Jackson—get out of the circle! Get out now!”

As if in slow motion, Mark watches Jackson quickly move to escape the white border. But just as soon as his toe brushes the edge, he is wrenched away and lifted from the ground.

Dahyun cries, “What the hell is happening!?”

“They won’t let me cross over!” Jackson squirms and writhes, attempting to escape whatever invisible grip is holding him hostage. His efforts are futile, and he continues to rise higher and higher off of the ground.

“Hang on, Jack!” Mark releases Changbin’s hands and raises his own palms in Jackson’s direction. However, the same torturous pain from before returns once more, hitting his nerves like a sledgehammer to a brick wall, and throws him to the earth. “Shit—no! H-He has to pass through the circle!”

“(Y/N)! Don’t!”

Mark raises his gaze at Dahyun’s shriek, only to watch in horror as you rush past the flour boundary and grab hold of Jackson’s hand. A blinding light immediately erupts from your clasped palms, expanding through the area until all Mark can see is white.

After a long moment, his vision eventually returns, and he finds the forest completely silent. The temperature is no longer frigid, he notices, and the strain within his brain is gone. For a moment, Mark is filled with prowess, victorious at the fact he successfully carried out an ancient resurrection ritual, however, his triumph is temporary, especially when he notices your form laid motionless in Dahyun’s arms.

“(Y/N)—fuck!” Mark hurries to where you lay, stealing your figure from the she-wolf to cradle you in his own hold. “Shit, shit, shit—she’s not breathing! Fucking goddamnit!”

His panic only grows tenfold when he hears the murmur cascade from Dahyun’s lips:

“Mark… where’s Jackson?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jaebeom scales the final rung of the ladder before making his way toward the corner where the snoozing trio resides. He moves cautiously, mindful not to awaken the young werewolf caretaker, yet eventually finds himself perched on the edge of a familiar cot. His heart thunders inside his chest, and he cannot tell if it’s out of anxiety or hope. Though at this moment, Jaebeom can really care less to find out.

“It’s about time you showed up…” He winces at the broken husk of his companion’s voice, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “I thought you were actually going to leave me to die in the hands of a neurotic teenage wolf…”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond to her quip—he can’t find it in himself to do so.

Tzuyu raises an eyebrow, “What’s with the face? Did you take down the witch or not?”

“We did.” He hums, “The spell is broken.”

“Good thing—” The vampire pauses to cough, and the sound is like broken glass against his ears. “—you and your brother are safe for the eternity to come.”

“Tzuyu… I found the cure.”

“What are you waiting for then? My consent?” She snickers playfully, “We fuck for over a century and this is the most gentlemanly behavior I’ve ever seen from you, Beomie.”

Again, Jaebeom remains silent.

Recognizing the obvious tension in the room, Tzuyu’s face falls. “But… I guess it’s more complicated than that, hm?”

“There’s only enough for…” He’s unable to finish his sentence, not when his companion’s eyes are gazing at him with such sullenness and sympathy. Jaebeom has to look away for a moment, though the action does little to relieve the tightness of his chest.

“Ah, I see.” Tzuyu hums, glancing across the way to a slumbering Felix. Her pale lips twitch, as if attempting to upturn to a smile, but it instead appears as a weak grimace. “You know, I really never meant to hurt (Y/N)… or you.”

“Tzuyu—”

“I’ve known you for decades… but I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you look at her.” Another violent cough wracks through her body, expelling a mass of dark blood past her lips. Jaebeom is quick to wipe the splotch from her skin with the blanket, trying not to dwell on the fact that her skin is ice cold. “I’ll admit, I was jealous at first… I’ve always wanted someone to look at me like that…

“I know you’re afraid to care—to love, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu murmurs sadly, lifting a hand to rest against the hybrid’s cheek. “Especially someone like (Y/N)… and you’re right to. She’s too good… too human.

“One misstep and you could lose her forever.”

“I want to be selfish…” Jaebeom whispers, “I want to be selfish so fucking bad—”

“But you can’t be, Beom. Not with her.”

“Then let me be selfish with you.”

Tzuyu smiles.

“I’ve lived over three lifetimes, and he is barely a ways into his one—so you’re going to give the cure to that damn kid, Im Jaebeom.” He leans further into her touch as she caresses the apple of his cheek. “Promise me that you’ll stay away from her—to keep her safe?”

He nods.

“Good… Can you hold me for a moment? I’m cold.”

“I’ll hold you as long as you want me to.”

And so Jaebeom takes Tzuyu into his arms. However, it’s not until the vampire grows still does he allow a single tear to cascade from his eye, staining the bloodied bed sheets with the agony of a heart that has been broken too many times to count.

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hufflautia · 4 years ago

Text

The Queen and the Dragon

Hi everyone! Finally, the glorious fic that some of you have been waiting for is finally here. I am so excited for you all to read this, and I hope you enjoy <3

Summary: All was peaceful in Endiac until tragedy had befallen the king. Now it’s up to his daughter, Princess Hufflepuff, to reign the kingdom. One might think that this would be easy for her. After all, the noble family of Endiac was beloved by all, so there should be no reason for anyone to go against her rule… right? WRONG BRUV! THIS IS A FANFIC WRITTEN BY ME, SO YOU KNOW THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GET SPICY!! Neighboring kingdoms who have sexist beliefs declare war upon Endiac, and the fairies come up with an idea that will prove Hufflepuff to be capable of leading her people—and it involves killing a dragon. However, when Hufflepuff encounters the supposedly fearsome beast, it is so much farther from what she expected.

Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess named Hufflepuff who lived with her family in a glorious castle on the top of the hill that overlooked the entire kingdom. Her father, King Aeneas, ruled over the subjects of Endiac, a lush land that stretched for miles and was full of magical creatures. Everyone loved the royal family and lived in harmony with the neighboring kingdoms. Even the creatures that resided outside of Endiac respected the king—even the trolls, who usually sought to wreak havoc. The subjects especially loved Princess Hufflepuff, who was as kind as a fairy and as beautiful as a unicorn. Everyone lived happily under the reign of King Aeneas and his family.

All was peaceful in Endiac until King Aeneas fell terribly ill. Everyone grew anxious for his recovery, especially Princess Hufflepuff. Kneeling next to her father on his bedside, Hufflepuff called to the fairies and cried, “Please help my father get better. The kingdom will surely collapse without him!” However, the fairies did not know of any cure for the king’s strange illness. All the magical herbs they had given to him did nothing to help his condition.

But Hufflepuff refused to give up. Knowing that fairies were prophets, she took the fastest horse from the stables and rode to a faraway fortress, where the wisest fairy supposedly inhabited.

It was said that Helia, the fairy of Coltherstone, was so well-known for her accurate predictions that many people flocked to the stronghold, begging her to prophesize their future. Being the generous fairy that she was, she helped and helped and helped. In return, they did… nothing. But that was ok with her. She didn’t expect them to shower her with gifts or jewels in return for her prophecies. After all, she was one of the most powerful fairies to exist, so she didn’t need anything from them. If they were happy, that was good enough for her.

One day, when Helia was traveling to another realm, she got caught in a raging snowstorm. The relentless hail that poured down damaged her wings, leaving her helpless and unable to fly, the usual transportation that fairies used. The numbing cold prevented her from using magic, so she decided to look for help. She came across a village, one that she knew well, for the villagers constantly visited her in hopes of getting a glimpse of their future. Of course, she always abided. Surely, that meant they would come to her aid, right? It was only fair that they lent a helping hand in her time of need.

Helia stumbled to the first house that she could reach and knocked. There was no answer. Were they not home? She decided to try another house. Perhaps they were available. Yet again, there was no response. Where did the villagers go? Perhaps they got caught in the snowstorm as well and were trying to make it home.

I’ll search for them later, she thought to herself as she walked to the next house. Though I’m sure not everyone is missing. She knocked on the door of house after house, the rapping of her knuckles against the wood ringing out like echoes in the emptiness of the village. Her attempts were to no avail—the doors remained closed, shutting her out.

She frowned, confusion etched in her face as she looked around. Was everyone truly missing? She decided to start her search and find any survivors who were lost in the howling storm. Right before she left through the entrance of the village, something caught her eye. In the top window of the first house she encountered was a silhouette of a man, the glow of the light behind him contrasting with his figure. A villager, at last! Her spirit rising, she held up a hand and waved, hoping to catch his attention. She was sure he could see her; the man seemed to be looking right at her. However, she watched as he reached up to close the blinds, leaving her alone once again.

Helia’s heart sank. Why wouldn’t he help her? Shaking her head in confusion, she walked to the house. “Hello,” she called out. “Anyone there?”

When there was no response, she knocked harder this time. “I know someone’s in there, I saw you in the window!” She stared at the door, feeling dejected. “Didn’t you see me?”

She decided to leave after waiting for a while and trudged down the steps. Suddenly, she noticed something in the window of the neighbor’s house. Walking closer, she squinted through the falling snow, and her eyes could make out the dim glow of a lantern within the house. What was going on?

Helia turned her attention to another house and hoped that her arising suspicion was wrong. Straining to hear past the howling wind, she could make out the sound of faint chatter. She ran to the door and tapped on the wood, her knocks becoming more insistent. “Please open the door,” she shouted over the storm. “My wings are broken and it’s too cold for me to use magic.” The villagers ignored her.

“It’s me, Helia!” Tears brimmed along the edge of her eyes and blurred her vision. “Remember me? I granted prophecies for all of you!”

They continued to laugh with one another.

“Please, I need help, I need…” She trailed off, choking on the sobs that heaved from her chest. Overcome with emotion, she leaned her forehead against the door with her hands pressed to the side. Realization dawned on her as she listened to the vague chatter within the walls of the house. People were home. They just didn’t want to help her. The pain that bloomed in her chest grew more intense as she walked to the entrance.

Before she left the village, bitterness overtook her and a curse erupted from her broken heart, spreading to all the realms. It was the last thing anyone heard from Helia before she disappeared, never to be seen again. “I will prophesize for you no longer,” the curse roared. “My door will remain closed to everyone but those who mean well. Those with hearts that are pure and true will find me in their time of need.” Everyone who did not meet those expectations would see that phrase embedded into the door of her fortress. It was a reminder of what happened, of how no one helped her that day. Even when they knocked and knocked and knocked—just as she did on that fateful night—the door would remain locked.

Hufflepuff’s mother read this story to her so that she always remembered to be kind to others. Helia was thought to be a myth, seeing as how the last time that anyone ever heard from Helia was thousands of years ago. Many people believed that the story of Helia was a tale to read to children at bedtime so that they learned the lesson of lending help to others in their time of need. However, there were whispers that she was real, that she was re-emerging into society again, granting wishes to those who deserved it. On the other hand, none of this was confirmed.

Regardless of whether or not the rumors were true, Hufflepuff’s father was dying—and that was most definitely real. She couldn’t give up on finding something that would save him. With her fingers crossed, Hufflepuff hoped that Helia would grant a prophecy that predicted the state of her father’s wellbeing. When she arrived at Coltherstone, she dismounted the horse and grabbed the bag strapped to the side before making her way to the fortress.

“Hello Helia,” she called out gingerly, standing near the entrance. “My name is Hufflepuff, the princess of Endiac. You probably haven’t heard of me, but I’ve heard of you.” She took a pause and swallowed with difficulty before continuing. “And I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for what happened to you. That wasn’t right of the villagers to ignore you like that, especially because you always helped them.”

“And I know I can’t change the horrors that you faced that night, nor will I ever truly understand the depths of your sorrow.” Hufflepuff drew closer until she stood in front of the famed door that supposedly had Helia’s last words known to humankind etched into the wood. “But I brought this,” she said before taking something out of a bag. It was a coat fit for a fairy to wear. Not just any coat—it was the fluffiest coat that she could find, one that would generate enough warmth to stave off the freezing cold. “It’s what I would’ve given you if you knocked on my door that night.”

A puff of air blew softly from her nose as she brushed her fingers against the wool. It was a bit ridiculous giving a coat to a fairy that probably had no use for it. Hell, she was offering a coat to a fairy who may not even be real! She shook the negative thoughts from her head; she had a purpose in coming here... although she wasn’t really sure what that exact purpose was. Granted, she knew it was to get a glimpse of her father’s fate. However, another part of her had always wanted to do this. Whenever she heard the tale of Helia, her thoughts never centered around the fairy’s powerful ability to predict the future accurately. Instead, they drifted to how Helia must’ve felt that night, cold and alone, abandoned by the people who she cared about the most. It was always at the top of her bucket list to bring this coat to her, not as an offering in exchange for a prophecy, but as a token of empathy and compassion.

Pulling herself out of the thoughts swirling around in her head, Hufflepuff delicately placed the coat at the front of the doorstep and gave a small nod of appreciation. “Thank you for your time,” she said, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. It felt a bit silly to talk as if she was speaking to the fairy herself. Nevertheless, Hufflepuff couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement now that she was actually here, at the famed fortress in which Helia supposedly resided. A childish grin stretched across her face, she stepped closer to the door and examined it. She thought back to the myth and reached out to touch the wood. Funny. People who visited Coltherstone usually said that Helia’s infamous words were engraved into the timber. However, she didn’t see anything. It just looked like any other door.

She shrugged. A feeling of disappointment settled on her chest as she began walking back to her horse, thinking about the story. Maybe it really was a myth.

“On the contrary, dear,” a voice called out. “How can it be a myth when I’m right here?”

Hufflepuff spun towards the sound of the voice, her eyes widening once they landed on the figure. Helia, the very person who she had been hoping to see, stood before her in all her glory—well, she wouldn’t really call it standing. It was more like hovering in the air. Her wings, which seemed to be filamentous and transparent, fluttered like confetti. As they danced in an airborne way, the breeze took on a floral fragrance, one to send the mind into a heady stupor, the kind enjoyed on late summer afternoons. Her hair was wild and as brown as the earthy soil under them, with small horns that adorned either side of her head. She was already wearing the coat that was gifted to her, a twinkle in her eye as she gazed warmly at the girl in front of her.

“Helia,” Hufflepuff gaped. “You’re here and you—you’re real and you’re wearing the coat—”

The fairy giggled, the vibrant sound bringing a sense of peace to her troubles. The gentle sound could make the lamplight more golden and the fires burn warmer. “Yes, my sweet child. Thank you very much for the gift.”

She barely managed to nod in response, still gawking at her.

Helia hummed a small laugh before walking around the side of the fortress, gesturing for her to follow. The gate that usually prevented visitors from trespassing disappeared, so she was able to pass through. She couldn’t help but feel intimidated by the fairy that floated alongside her. After all, she was one of the most powerful beings to ever exist; almost every child heard of her at some point. She moved as if she were only made of water, flowing more than she walked. Hufflepuff was startled when she turned her attention to her once again.

“You’re the first human to give me something,” she admitted. “For your goodwill, I shall grant you a prophecy.” She took a pause to smile widely at her. “You would’ve gotten a prophecy either way, Princess Hufflepuff. Your heart is pure and true, and for that, I will help you.”

Hufflepuff let out a breath of relief. Perhaps she could save her father after all! “Thank you kindly, Helia.”

They encountered a makeshift wall of hanging leaves, and the fairy parted the flowers aside so that she could walk through. A beautiful garden came into view. The bonsai trees lined the perfect lawn in their wooden boxes. In the center was a pond as large as a small lake with flowering lily pads and a wooden bridge that crossed the middle so one could look down at the koi carp. The flower beds were a riot of lively colors, splashes of red and gold thrown in the field of blossoms. She was awe-struck once more.

“Come,” Helia said, making her way towards an area to sit and chat. “We have much to discuss.”

Hufflepuff followed her to a bench that resided in the middle of the garden. The rosy cedar browns were married to the iron that curved into the great arms and grew into ever-blooming flowers to rest on. She didn’t take the time to appreciate its beauty; there was a pressing matter to attend to—her father’s fate.

“Ah, yes. It seems that your father, King Aeneas, is quite ill at this time.”

Her head snapped up to stare at the fairy in surprise. She was about to ask how she knew her father’s name but decided not to after seeing the knowing look on her face. Fairies had a way of looking right into one’s soul as if it were an open book for the reading.

“So what of it,” she asked frantically, swallowing with difficulty. “What’s gonna happen?”

“You will rule over Endiac much sooner than you think.”

It was as if time stopped for Hufflepuff. “What are you saying,” she whispered, dread creeping into her chest.

Helia placed a hand on her shoulder, but the soothing touch did nothing to calm the storms that raged in her heart. “There is nothing you can do to save your father.”

“No,” she gasped, standing up abruptly. “I won’t give up, I mustn't!”

“Fate will take its course regardless of what you do.” A somber expression splayed onto her face. “By the time the sun sets, your father will be gone.”

Hufflepuff suddenly collapsed onto the bench, a grimace contorted on her face as she tried to will the tears away. Despite her efforts, they began falling freely from her eyes. Helia rubbed her back sympathetically and plucked a tissue from thin air, offering it to her.

“I can sense the love you have for your father, so I understand why his death troubles you greatly,” she said. “But I also sense another worry.”

Hufflepuff didn’t respond for a while. All that could be heard was the occasional sniffles along with the rustling of leaves. Finally, she spoke. “I can’t be the queen of Endiac,” she whispered. “I can’t rule the kingdom, not without my father’s help.”

“On the contrary, you needn’t the help of a man to be a powerful ruler,” she said pointedly. “You will be one of the most well-known queens of your time.”

A sliver of hope arose in Hufflepuff. Would she really?

“However, you will face numerous hardships and go on a quest before you can begin your ascend as one of the greatest queens to exist. Your journey will be a very difficult one, and what you find in the end is not what you expect.”

She thought about the fairy’s words, curiosity as well as concern swirling in her head. She still felt uncertain, for she was afraid to rule. Did she really have what it takes to be a queen?

Helia squeezed her hand reassuringly. “It’s all going to be ok in the end.”

Hufflepuff drew in a shaky breath. She really hoped so. “Thank you for your help, Helia, I won’t forget what you said.” She got up. “But I must take my leave now. My father doesn’t have much time left, and I’d like to spend as much time with him as possible.”

The fairy nodded and walked her to the entrance. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.” She curtseyed. “I wish you the best of luck.”

Hufflepuff gave her a small smile before making her way to the horse.

With a heavy heart, she prepared for the long journey ahead. By nightfall, the subjects were devastated to hear that King Aeneas had passed away.

Hufflepuff knelt on the carpet, her cheek lying against the pillow that rested on her father’s empty bed. She clutched the cloth and could feel the fluff of goose feathers, but the soft material did nothing to calm the waves of grief that clashed within.

It smelled as if he were sitting right beside her, for his scent still lingered on the sheets. Inhaling deeply, she tried to imprint the earthy smell of cool rain into her memory. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend that he was sitting right beside her, that he was fine and all was well. This was comforting to some extent, but she knew the peace would not last. Her father was gone.

A tear peeked from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek until it finally came to a rest at the end of her jaw. More tears began streaming down her face as she thought of his last words to her.

Someone called out her name. Startled, she stood up abruptly and turned towards the voice, relaxing when she realized that it was only her mother, who held her arms out for a hug. With a sad smile, she walked into her embrace. “I miss him,” she whispered, her breath catching in her throat.

“Me too.” She stroked her hair and held her daughter tightly. A heavy silence drifted upon them as they reminisced on all the great memories they had together.

After a while, her mother pulled away and clasped their hands together. “Come, child,” she said before leading them towards the balcony.

She pushed open the double-leaved doors and stepped into the sunlight, taking in the light breeze. “Heavy hearts and heavy minds are not what Endiac needs right now.” Hufflepuff rested her hands on the railing as she looked over the kingdom. Her kingdom. Her mom finally turned to her with a reassuring smile.

“They need a queen.”

When Hufflepuff was crowned Queen, chaos reigned in the once-beloved kingdom. Immediately after neighboring kingdoms received word that King Aeneas died, they declared war on Endiac and vowed to overthrow the Queen because “a woman couldn’t possibly lead a kingdom”. Shocked, she couldn’t believe that the kingdoms would turn on her like this—even Bellesea, a kingdom that always aided Endiac during their time of need, joined in on the aggression.

The nervous council members urged Hufflepuff to marry the king of Staerdale, the only kingdom that remained at peace with Endiac. This alliance would put a stop to their troubles because the armies of Staerdale were powerful and could protect them from anyone who sought to harm the nobles. However, Hufflepuff refused to make the offer.

“My father always told me to marry for love,” she muttered, staring out the window and gazing upon her subjects. “And I know for a fact that I would not love the prince.”

A councilman walked to her side and fiddled with his fingers nervously. “But Your Majesty, you didn’t even meet him yet. For all we know, he may be a very handsome and courageous man!”

Hufflepuff sighed, looking into the distance. “My disinterest in him has nothing to do with his personality.”

The councilman looked at her, confused. Before he could ask her to elaborate, the fairies stepped in and asked her to follow them, for they had just thought of an idea that would save them all.

When they were finally alone, the purple fairy poofed a scroll into Hufflepuff’s hand. “You need to show them that you’re strong enough to lead the kingdom,” the fairy said as Hufflepuff unraveled the paper. On it was a drawing of a fearful dragon that lived not too far from Endiac. “There’s a dragon that rests on the top of a tower 20 yards away from the Farleigh mountains. It is supposedly so fearsome that no one dares to go near it.”

Hufflepuff scrunched her nose at the fairy and looked back at the sketch, looking at the intricate details of the dragon’s scales. For some reason, she wasn’t as scared as she thought she would be. Instead, she was intrigued. “So why are you telling me this?”

“You must kill the dragon to show everyone that you’re strong enough to lead your people!”

Hufflepuff started to object—even though dragons were supposedly the most frightening creatures of them all, she would never intentionally harm one, no matter how fearsome it appeared to be—but the pink fairy sprinkled special dust around her, transforming Hufflepuff into an ambitious knight.

Brainwashed, she suddenly straightened her back and smiled brightly at the fairy, who handed her a bag stuffed with items that would be useful in one’s journey.

“You’re absolutely right,” Hufflepuff exclaimed. “I must defeat this dragon and prove that I can lead the kingdom!” With that, she marched out of the room and towards her destination.

The yellow fairy, who had been silently watching, finally spoke up. “Princess Hufflepuff wouldn’t dare hurting a fly, much less a dragon.”

The other fairies looked at each other knowingly. “We know,” one of them said. “Hufflepuff will meet her fate soon enough.”

When the dust finally wore off, Hufflepuff blinked blearily and looked around in confusion. “Where am I,” she muttered to herself, taking notice of the tower in front of her. She walked closer and examined the moss growing on the aged cobblestone. Suddenly feeling a puff of hot air that came from above, she looked up, only to meet the eyes of a dragon who perched at the top of the tower.

Dark green eyes sat within the creature's skull, several tiny horns lining the top of its head. The dragon had silver-like skin, four mighty limbs to carry its body and allow the creature to stand arrogantly and imposing. Each limb had 3 digits, each of which ended in claws that seemed to be made of diamond. Gigantic wings were bladed in structure, and its long tail ended in a seemingly fluffy tip and was covered in the same massive scales as its body. Its neck craned to observe Hufflepuff from afar, a sliver of interest behind its stone-cold stare.

Curiously enough, Hufflepuff didn’t seem to be running away in terror as one might have expected. Instead, she cocked her head to the side and said something that shocked the dragon. “Do you need help getting down,” she asked carefully.

The dragon stared into her brown eyes, trying to see if this was a trick. It realized that she was being genuine, and suddenly bowed its head in despair.

“Please.”

Surprised that the dragon was able to talk, a smile graced Hufflepuff’s features. “You can speak,” she remarked as she pulled at the drawstrings of her bag to open it.

The dragon let out sparks of fire from its snout as it sighed. “Only when there are people nearby, which is quite rare. Even then, the people who do approach me usually want to kill me, so there’s not much time for talking.”

Hufflepuff nodded sympathetically as she searched through the items. The curious creature tilted its head to the side. “So why haven’t you tried to kill me?”

She paused to look back up at the dragon. “I would never harm another being,” she declared. “Other than that, you seemed to be somewhat stuck up there so I wanted to help you down.” She continued rummaging through the bag. “Plus, you hadn’t eaten me yet, so I took it as a sign that you’re not necessarily looking to cause chaos.”

The creature laughed, its chuckle ringing like bells. “I used to always cause chaos when I was…” It trailed off as if it were thinking back to another time. Though intrigued, she decided not to press on the matter after feeling a slight sense of sadness surrounding the subject.

Finally, Hufflepuff found what she was looking for—a wand. When the dragon saw what she was holding, it hissed, its wings flailing around as it moved back in a panic.

“Get that thing away from me,” the dragon growled, its claws clutching at the pinnacles that sprouted from the tower. A dark shade of red glowed in its blazing eyes and sparks of fire flew from its snout.

Taken aback by the sudden display of anger, Hufflepuff held out her hands in an attempt to calm the dragon. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” she assured, her tone soothing and kind. “I’m just gonna cast a spell to bring you down.”

The dragon settled down but eyed Hufflepuff wearily as she raised the wand again. She advised the creature to stay still before casting the spell, gradually lifting it away from the tower and onto the ground.

A blinding glow suddenly appeared around the dragon at the exact moment it touched the floor. Magic swirled all around the creature until it was engulfed by a shimmer of some unknown force. Hufflepuff winced and shielded her eyes from the brightness before taking another peek once the light dissipated. A human girl laid where the dragon had once stood. She was sprawled on the floor in shiny armor, her eyes closed as if she was taking a nap.

Hufflepuff stared at the girl, who seemed to be the same age as her, and cautiously inched forward. The girl suddenly stirred awake and made an incoherent noise, a sound of a yawn mixed in with a groan. She opened an eye, her eyebrows furrowed as her vision adjusted to her surroundings—more specifically, her sight focused on the human limbs that seemed to be attached to her own body.

Suddenly, the girl sat up in an instant and brought her hands up to her face in disbelief, laughing with glee when she registered something. “I don’t believe it,” she murmured, examining stands of her own hair as if they were strings of gold. “I’m back to normal!”

“Pardon me—”

Before Hufflepuff could finish her sentence, the girl yelped in surprise and scrambled to stand up, her arms raised in a defensive stance. She let out a sigh of relief and lowered her hands once she saw Hufflepuff, noticing the royal seal on her cloak.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I forgot that I was not alone,” the girl said sheepishly, flashing a bright smile before bowing. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Slytherin Wildhorn, at your service.”

“So let me get this straight,” Hufflepuff murmured as they walked along the edge of a forest. “You were cursed by a witch who turned you into a dragon?”

Slytherin nodded, gazing into the distance as she thought back to a memory buried deep within the wide expanse of the past. “Yes, my lady—”

“You can call me Hufflepuff.”

Slytherin glanced over at Hufflepuff, whose heartbeat quickened under her gaze. I’ll never get used to looking at her eyes, she thought to herself, staring into Slytherin’s strikingly green orbs before turning her attention elsewhere—or at least trying to.

“Yes, Hufflepuff,” she said with a smile before continuing on. “A witch cursed me because I was a vain knight whose big ego would never allow me to accept help from others. One day, I was supposed to bring other knights with me to stop an invasion of a village. I decided not to because I thought I would be able to handle it on my own.”

Slytherin was overcome with sorrow as she thought back to what happened as a result of her decision. “Only a few of the villagers survived,” she said quietly, a tear sliding down her cheek. “To this day, it is one of my biggest regrets in life.”

Hufflepuff reached into her bag and brought out a handkerchief, silently offering it to her. She nodded in appreciation and took it, wiping the tears from her eyes before they could spill over.

“Miraculously, I survived,” Slytherin continued. “One of the remaining villagers was a witch, and she was not happy about this, especially because her entire family was...” She trailed off, getting sucked back into her self-deprecating thoughts until she snapped back to reality when she felt something. Looking down, she realized that Hufflepuff was holding her hand, her gentle grasp quelling her anguish.

“You don’t have to finish,” she said, her thumb rubbing over her skin in a comforting gesture. “I know this must be causing you a lot of pain.”

Hufflepuff released her hand, and Slytherin found herself missing the warmth of her touch. Bringing her attention back to the conversation, she shook her head. “I feel a sense of duty to finish the story.” Her gaze was far away and distant as if her mind was elsewhere. “In doing so, I’d be honoring the lives of the people who died on account of what I decided. It would do me no good if I were to try burying that memory away.”

Hufflepuff nodded understandably. “You’re very courageous for doing such a thing.”

“You’re too kind,” she replied with a sad smile. “The witch certainly wouldn’t think so. In the aftermath of the massacre, she was resentful about my decision to refuse the help of the other knights, so she used her wand to turn me into a dragon, placing me on a high tower with no way of escaping.”

“But you had wings,” Hufflepuff remarked. “Why couldn’t you just fly away?”

Slytherin looked at her sheepishly. “I’ve had a fear of heights ever since my older brothers thought it would be a good idea to put 6-year old me into a catapult so that I could say hi to the birds in the sky,” she recounted. “I’ll never forget the expression of this one goose that I had passed. It looked quite surprised to see a little girl flying through the air and screaming her head off.”

Hufflepuff hummed a laugh, a puff of breath escaping from her nose as her lips curved up into a grin.

A smile of her own appeared on Slytherin’s face as she silently hoped that this would be the first of many moments in which she could make Hufflepuff laugh.

“In truth, I still would’ve been stuck on the top of that tower if it weren’t for you,” Slytherin said. “The witch said I would need the assistance of a human to get down. Given that she transformed me into a fearsome beast that many humans wouldn’t dare to go near, she knew that I was doomed to remain stuck on that tower forever.”

“But I wasn’t. I guess the curse was finally lifted when I accepted someone’s help.” Slytherin paused for a moment, gazing warmly at Hufflepuff. “And it’s all thanks to you and your benevolence. I would’ve stayed as a dragon if you hadn’t come to my aid.” She bowed and pressed a kiss against her hand. “For that, I am forever in your debt.”

With reddened cheeks, Hufflepuff beamed at her before curtsying. Her smile faltered as she thought about what would happen in the future—more specifically, whether Slytherin would be in her future. After all, she was human again. Who knows where she would want to go or do with her newfound freedom?

Slytherin frowned. “Something wrong?”

Realizing that she had been watching her, Hufflepuff tried to cover up the sadness that melded into her heart. “Where will you go after this,” she asked and swallowed with difficulty before asking the next question. “Do you plan on going back to your kingdom?”

Slytherin kept quiet as she thought about the question. “My family is dead so there is no point in returning,” she finally said, a hollow sadness in her eyes. “It was a part of the witch’s curse. While she mourned the loss of her family, I was stuck on that tower for hundreds of years, forced to watch from afar as my family slowly died from old age.” She let out a humorless laugh, a pained grimace on her face. “It would’ve been better if the witch had just killed me, but of course, she wasn’t that merciful. She wanted me to suffer what she was going through.” Her eyes became stone-cold as she recomposed herself, brushing the tears away with the palm of her hand. “I guess I deserved it.”

Hufflepuff stopped walking and reached out for Slytherin to still her movements, her hand resting on her arm. “What’s done is done. The best thing for you to do is move on from the past because it would do you no good to beat yourself up about that decision. The fact that you’re owning up to your mistakes is very valiant of you.” She stepped closer, concern etched into her eyes. “If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven, okay?”

Slytherin thought about it, relaxing when she realized that Hufflepuff was completely right. Her chest expanded as the guilt lifted off, and for the first time in a long time, she felt free.

Finding comfort in the eyes that resembled the rich soils of the earth, Slytherin couldn’t look away from her. “Thank you, Hufflepuff.” The corners of her mouth lifted into a grateful smile before she continued their journey. “I’m not sure where I’ll go after this,” she said wistfully. Her mind went all over the place. The forest? That would be too dangerous, seeing as how there were plenty of dangerous people who roamed throughout the woods, looking for an easy target. The mountains? It would be freezing, and she would probably get frostbite on her fingers if she were to spend a few hours in the frigid summits. Maybe a cave would be a safe place to camp. However, she was sure that she would wake up with a sore back after spending a night on the hard ground.

“Come to Endiac,” Hufflepuff suddenly proffered, saying it much quicker than she would’ve liked, but she hardly cared, gazing at her companion hopefully.

Slytherin raised an eyebrow as she thought about it. “Would the nobles of that kingdom allow me to stay?”

The corner of her eyes crinkled as she smiled. “You’re talking to the queen right now,” Hufflepuff beamed. “And I’m pretty sure she’s already approved of you.”

Slytherin’s jaw practically dropped before she remembered her manners, taking a low bow. “Thank you again,” she said with a wide smile. “I am truly grateful to have been graced with your presence—and it has nothing to do with your royal status. I just…” She paused, staring at her with an unreadable expression. “I just see you.”

A smile of her own stretched onto her face. Before Hufflepuff could respond, there was a rustle nearby. They both turned their attention to the woods and became more alert when they heard a twig snap.

Three men suddenly emerged from the depths of the forest, malicious smiles plastered on their faces. Hufflepuff took notice of the symbols that were embedded on their armor; they were the royal seals of the Goulrich kingdom, who was the first to declare war on Endiac. “Queen Hufflepuff,” one of them sneered. “It appears that we have found you at last.” They advanced closer, clutching their swords. “Our king would like us to give you his regards.” He frowned and turned to one of the other men. “Francis, what was it that he said?”

The other man snickered before answering. “I believe he ordered us to kill you,” Francis leered. “Did I get that right, Millborne?”

“I believe you did,” the first man replied. His mouth curled up into a mocking frown as if he was expressing sympathy. “No hard feelings, Your Majesty. Surely you understand why we can not disobey his orders.”

The third man sighed, checking out his reflection on the metal of his blade. “Boys, let’s not toy with her any longer.” He shifted his attention to Hufflepuff, his eyes cold and menacing. “Just get this over with.”

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, backing away. “Can’t we just live in peace like we used to?”

The men exploded in laughter. “We lived in peace when the king was in charge,” Millborne snarled. “You are merely a girl who is unfit to rule a kingdom.”

Anger rose in Hufflepuff’s chest as they went on, spouting nonsense about how she simply didn’t have the same strength and courage as a man. She wanted nothing more than to prove them wrong, but she knew with one glance at their looming figures that she would not be able to overpower all of them.

Slytherin, who had been quiet during the entire time, was silently analyzing the men. Judging from their fighting stance and the way they gripped the handle of their weapons, she could tell that they were amateurs. “This’ll be fun,” she declared, amused when the men finally turned their attention to her. Confusion clouded their expression before morphing into something more hostile. She brandished her sword and stepped in front of Hufflepuff. “Run,” she demanded, staring down the men.

Hufflepuff tried to object, but she insisted. “Just go, I’ll catch up!”

Taking one last fleeting look at Slytherin, she started running in the opposite direction.

Slytherin looked behind her shoulder for a brief moment, relief filling her chest as she watched Hufflepuff escape. Her attention was brought back to the situation when she heard the men chuckle. “Something funny,” she asked, narrowing her eyes when they began circling her.

“This situation is quite funny to us,” Francis remarked.

Slytherin raised an eyebrow and laughed humorlessly as she kept two of them in her line of vision. “Please enlighten me as to why.”

“A little girl in a knight’s armor is amusing, no?” The man behind her suddenly swung his sword in an arc, intending to cut her back.

However, Slytherin had anticipated this and stopped the attack easily, their sword colliding with her own. His blade shivered under the brutality of her compelling strength, and she pushed against him, slashing her weapon upwards so that they were no longer entangled with one another. Wasting no time, she thrust her sword forward, aiming for his face. The sharp tip slipped past the man’s guard and he jerked his head back, a gash marking his cheek. He reached to touch the wound and drew his hand back, his eyes widening at the sight of blood smeared all over his fingers.

Slytherin smirked at his surprised expression, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“No,” she proclaimed. “Woman.”

Hufflepuff was resting in a grassy field, taking a well-deserved break. She had been running for a while and only decided to stop once she was sure that she was safe. However, she couldn’t say the same for Slytherin. Her heart ached as she thought about the girl who she had just met but felt drawn to, an invisible string of fate bringing them together.

I can’t just sit here and think about Slytherin, she thought. That’d do nothing but make me worry. She started rummaging through her bag for the wand; maybe the fairies would see the flare that she would send into the air and come to her aid. Her hand brushed against something cold and narrow, and she brought it out in hopes that it was what she was looking for. Instead of a wand, it was a paring knife. She frowned. Why would the fairies put this in her bag? Knives like this were usually used for cutting fruits and vegetables. Perhaps they did it by mistake.

Though it was probable that the paring knife would be of no use to her, she didn’t toss it back into the bag. Her mind drifted to the moment before she left Slytherin, who had hidden a dagger up her sleeve. There was no question about it—she knew how to fight. Hufflepuff could tell just by hearing the confidence that she carried in her voice when she said, “This’ll be easy.” Hufflepuff could sense her powerful aura just by glancing at the stance that she had maintained, her eyes steely and concentrated on the men before her. Just thinking about it all sent unexpected warmth rushing to her cheeks, and she quickly brushed her thoughts aside before sneaking the paring knife into her sleeve. It fit perfectly within her garment—it wasn’t big enough to the point where someone would immediately notice it, nor was it small enough to slip out. She shrugged to herself as she continued searching through her bag. It wouldn’t hurt to have a secret weapon close to her in case anything happened.

Finally, she found what she was looking for. The wand, at last! She pointed it at the sky, ready to cast the spell.

“You thought you could escape from us?”

Hufflepuff dropped the wand and turned around abruptly, her lungs filled with dread when her eyes landed on the men from before. Though a feeling of pride swelled in her chest when she noticed the multiple cuts and bruises that littered their faces, it quickly deflated when she noticed the slack figure that was slumped over Millborne’s shoulder. He sneered at Hufflepuff before tossing the body onto the ground. Her heart tightened in horror when she realized that it was Slytherin, who appeared to be slightly dazed with a cut on her lip. “Hufflepuff,” she croaked weakly.

One of the men walked forward and rested his boot against Slytherin’s back. “I have to admit, your little knight is quite good at fighting. Too bad she got carried away and let her ego get the best of her.” He knelt down and pressed his knee against her, smirking as she resisted. “But this wasn’t the first time that happened... was it, Slytherin Wildhorn?”

He chuckled lowly when she froze. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere. The disgraced knight who disappeared from her kingdom, never to be seen again. Though I’m not sure how you’re still alive after all these years, the king will be intrigued when I present your head to him.” He paused and turned his attention back to Hufflepuff, who was staring at Slytherin with worry. “Along with the unfortunate news that the queen of Endiac is dead.”

Though Slytherin was too tired to fight back, there was unmistakable anger that blazed in her eyes. Her expression softened when she looked at Hufflepuff. “Run,” she mouthed.

A part of Hufflepuff wanted nothing more than to start running through the fields as fast as her legs could move. However, she stood her ground. No, she thought as she met Slytherin’s gaze. I’m not leaving you again. She reached for the dagger strapped to the side of her bag as Francis approached her, his lips curled in amusement when he noticed the weapon that she clutched with a shaky hand.

“Do you even know how to use that,” he leered. “I’m sure the only thing they taught you to do in that castle of yours was to sit still and look pretty.”

Her face remained neutral as she sized him up, taking note of the sword in his hand. “We’ll see about that.”

Francis chuckled. “We will indeed.” He suddenly lunged at her, brandishing his weapon and swinging it in an arc. She easily dodged and kicked him back with the heel of her foot. The powerful impact made him stumble a little, but it also made him angry. He advanced forwards, extending his front leg while propelling with the heel of his other foot, his sword aimed for her stomach. She collided his blade with the edge of her dagger and maneuvered both of their weapons in a circular motion so that the tip of his sword pointed away from her. Without delay, she surged forward and grabbed the wrist that was holding the handle of the sword, bringing it over her shoulder with her body positioned so that she was facing away from him, her back against his side. With his arm bent against her shoulder, he was trapped against her will. As a result, he could do nothing but watch as she drew a gash in his hand with her dagger.

Hufflepuff finally released him and he stumbled back, hissing in pain as he clutched his sword arm. Her eyes cold and hard, she watched him with her weapon raised, blood dripping down the steel. “It seems I know how to use this well enough,” she said pointedly.

His ego damaged, Francis growled in frustration and started slashing his sword relentlessly. He took the offense position as Hufflepuff was forced to go into defense, stopping the severe blow of his blade with her own. When her limbs began tiring, she didn’t have the strength to block his attack and chose to sidestep instead. The edge of his sword grazed her face and left a cut on her chin. Shocked, she didn’t have enough time to react when he struck her with his hand, a resounding slap emanating into the air as she collapsed onto her knees. Gingerly touching the red mark that bloomed on her cheek, she knew that it would be a matter of time before she didn’t have enough strength to fight back. She would have to end this soon—once and for all.

Still slumped on the ground, Hufflepuff saw an opportunity to get behind him; his legs were positioned far apart from each other, which left a wide-enough gap for her to crawl. She quickly did so and kicked his back before he could turn around. When he did, his eyes were alight with anger, his grip tightening around the handle of his sword.

Francis made a move to strike her but she managed to trap his wrist between her left arm and elbow. Seeing this as another chance to cut his side, she reached out to attack his exposed chest with her dagger. However, he had expected this and stopped the attack with his free hand by pressing the flat blade against her wrist, pinning it against her initial target. Wrapping his fingers around the handle of her dagger, he twisted it to a certain angle so that she was forced to let go. The strength of his pressure caused her weapon to fly out of her grasp, landing a few feet away from them.

He swung at her but she dodged the attack by moving in a counterclockwise direction as she swiftly ducked underneath the arm that she had originally trapped. When his arm was released from her grasp, he lashed out again in a similar manner, his blade cutting through the air. She jerked backward and suddenly slung the paring knife that was hidden in her sleeve. It cut the side of his shoulder and drew blood, beads of crimson red glistening on his skin.

“I found it helpful to have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Hufflepuff japed. Francis looked from his shoulder back to her, rage mixed with shock pooling in his sullen eyes. “I learn from the best.”

She glanced over at Slytherin, who was awe-struck by it all. Joy was clearly prominent in her expression and she smiled widely, taking pride in the fact that Hufflepuff used the same trick that she had done beforehand.

Her heart skipping a beat, Hufflepuff couldn’t help but be distracted, which allowed Francis to seize the moment. He kicked his foot behind her feet, causing her to buckle down and fall onto her back.

“The best should’ve taught you not to be distracted during a fight,” he sneered. “But unfortunately, we are out of time.” As he stalked closer, taking his time so that he could relinquish in the fear of her soon-to-be demise, she took her surroundings into account and noticed a bunch of rocks scattered on the dirt. Pretending to scoot away in terror, she moved closer to the pile.

Hufflepuff managed to grab two rocks and conceal them behind her back before he closed in on her. Raising his sword to deliver a full force overhead attack, he looked at her smugly. “Long live the king,” he declared. Before he could carry out the final motion, she flung the rocks at him as hard as she could and successfully hit him straight in the eye.

When he stumbled back in agony, she quickly scrambled back up and began racing through the field as fast as possible, running towards the direction in which she saw her dagger fly off. However, something suddenly collided with her legs and she fell face-first onto the ground. She looked down at the rope that bound her feet together and frantically tugged against the tight cord, but it wouldn’t budge.

Francis stalked towards her with a cold grin. “I think I’m going to keep this,” he said, toying with the wand that she had dropped. “It has proven to be quite useful.”

He pulled Hufflepuff up and began dragging her. She resisted and tried twisting away from his tight grasp, digging her nails into his hands. He merely struck her with the back of his hand, leaving a red welt on her cheek. Her ears ringing, she didn’t realize where he was bringing her until they neared a cliff that overlooked the ocean.

Even if she knew how to swim, there was no way that she would survive the journey down; the cliff was miles above the water— it would essentially feel like hitting the pavement if she were to fall from this height. Bile suddenly rose in her throat and she tried grounding her feet into the dirt but it barely stopped Francis from yanking her forward. Standing at the very edge of the cliff, he spun her around so that she was facing the other men, who had brought Slytherin along for the show. She was kneeling on the ground, the sharp edge of a sword pressed against her throat as she watched, her eyes blurry with tears as they concentrated on Hufflepuff.

“Any last words, Your Majesty?”

Hufflepuff spat at his feet and looked at him briefly with disgust. “None for you,” she muttered disdainfully, softening her gaze when she switched her attention back to Slytherin.

There was so much she wanted to say. I really like your eyes. I wanna hear more stories about your adventures with your crazy brothers. Your hands are really soft and warm. I admire your courage. You’re unlike any other. You were a bit intimidating as a dragon and you’re still intimidating as a human—but I love it. I’m really glad I met you. I just wish we had more time. Before she could express a single one of these thoughts that buzzed through her head, Francis pushed her off the cliff.

It felt like everything was happening in slow motion. Slytherin watched in horror as Hufflepuff tilted backward, her feet scraping off the edge of the cliff. “No!” she screamed, for she was losing the girl whom she had only known for a couple of hours but felt as though she knew her for a lifetime. Meeting her was fate, but becoming her friend was a choice, one that she would pick over and over again if she had the chance. In a world of injustice, where cruelty was the cause and friendship the antidote, a person that she had never met before lent a helping hand when no one else would. In the few hours in which she had known this girl, she felt like she was finally living. Now she wouldn’t get to experience a beautiful friendship that might’ve melded into something greater. She’d never know what could’ve been.

And it’s all because of them, Slytherin thought bitterly, turning her attention to the men surrounding her.

“You’re not worth the trouble of dragging all the way back to the kingdom,” one of them said, drawing out his sword. “I’m sure our king will be just as pleased if we brought him your head.”

A torrent of rage rose within and her chest heaved with anguish. “You'll pay for this,” she hissed as she glared at him. Her fury drowned out everything—she couldn’t hear their continuous taunts, she couldn’t hear the waves crashing against the side of the cliff, she couldn’t hear anything except her ideas for revenge. Though her anger was great, an inner voice that seemed to come out of nowhere pierced through the thick canvas of venomous hatred, its voice calm and soothing. It reminded her of what really mattered, and the torrent of wrath turned into something calmer. She made sure not to let her anger consume her because she had more important things to attend to.

Slytherin wouldn’t let her friend fall to her death, not if she could help it—and if she couldn’t save Hufflepuff in time… well, let’s just say that it wouldn’t end well for Francis and his companions. A tinge of red clouded her vision, and for some reason, the men before her started getting smaller and smaller. She hardly paid any attention to them, for she had only one person in mind.

In the far distance, Hufflepuff heard a sudden commotion but didn’t even have the chance to worry about what had happened, because her entire world was shifting before her: flashes of the wide expanse of the blue sky mixed in with quick glimpses of the side of the cliff became all that she could see. She tumbled through the air with her arms flailing around uselessly, her fingers trying to grasp at anything stable as she screamed, falling, falling, falling.

Having no concept of time whatsoever, she braced herself for the impact, her heartbeat racing quicker than it had ever raced before. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prepared for her final demise. She flinched when her back hit the soft but firm surface and—wait... what? She was supposed to splatter against the water like it was pavement; this was definitely not what she expected it to feel like. She peeked out of one eye, trying to gain a sense of her surroundings, and saw a palace of clouds. An ethereal world made of fluff painted across an expansive sky.

Hufflepuff wasn’t falling. She was flying.

She sat up and almost cried out in happiness when she realized that she was on the back of Slytherin, who had transformed back into a dragon. “Slytherin,” she exclaimed in surprise. “You’re okay!”

“I couldn’t die,” Slytherin joked as she flew back to the land. “Not when the Queen was in trouble.”

Even though she had almost died, it was a euphoric feeling to soar through the sky and see the ocean in all its glory. The waves came in as a deep aquamarine, turning golden as the sun shone brightly, its warm rays painting Hufflepuff’s cheek with a tinge of red. The sea breathed, the surface rising and falling with rhythmic ease, and she felt at peace, something she had not felt for a while, not until she laid her eyes on a certain someone who changed her life in a heartbeat.

When Slytherin finally landed safely onto the ground, Hufflepuff slid down and was about to thank her when the men who seemed shell shocked from watching the woman before them turn into a fearsome dragon recovered from their surprise.

“Dragon or not, we will never stop,” Millborne shouted. “Not until Endiac is ours-”

Slytherin let out a big huff of annoyance, the sudden gust of air flinging all of the men over the cliff, their screams disappearing when they finally met their fate. “Could you repeat that,” she called out to them. “I think you got cut off!”

Hufflepuff ran and peered over the edge. There was nothing to see except the choppy waves, their foam crests becoming chaotic lace over the blue. She heard a sudden thud behind her and turned around. Seeing that Slytherin had transformed back into a human again, she quickly rushed to her side. “Slytherin,” she gasped, cradling her cheek. “Are you alright?”

Slytherin smiled weakly and rested her hand over Hufflepuff’s. “I’m fine,” she assured. “I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“And I, you.” She frowned as she thought back to what had happened a few moments ago. “I didn’t know you could turn back into a dragon.”

Confusion etched into Slytherin’s face as she looked down at her own body. “I didn’t know either. I just remember seeing you fall and something overcame me. Next thing I knew, I jumped over the cliff to go after you.”

Hufflepuff furrowed her eyebrows and asked, “But how were you able to fly if you didn’t know how to use your wings?”

“It felt like a natural instinct. All I could think about was saving you, and I didn’t stop to wonder about how I would get to you.” Slytherin’s eyes flickered down to her lips and she unconsciously shifted closer. “I just knew that I had to.”

Hufflepuff’s heartbeat quickened as she gazed into her strikingly green orbs. She had never been this close to her before, but now that she was, she could see every intricate detail. Her eyes were the hue of the new spring growth, bright and soft all at once. It was the kind of earthy green that revives the grass after a cruel, unforgiving winter. Within those irises were interwoven shades of the forest canopy that hid the chaotic nature behind. Never before have eyes held such danger and beauty all at once. She had a wildfire within her: reckless, untamed, yet undeniably captivating.

“Have I ever told you that I really like your eyes,” Hufflepuff blurted out. Slytherin let out a laugh, which sounded like music to her ears.

Before she could reply, she caught sight of a bag in the distance. It seemed like the satchel that Francis had been carrying around.

Noticing that her attention was elsewhere, Hufflepuff turned around to see what she was looking at and frowned. “What is that?”

Slytherin walked towards the sack and examined the belongings. When her hand brushed against parchment, she pulled out the paper and unfolded it. Her brows slanted as she read the contents.

“What does it say,” Hufflepuff asked, walking towards her. “Is something wrong?”

She wordlessly handed over the letter to Hufflepuff, who quickly scanned the paper. Her voice was tight as she read out loud the last paragraph. “After the job is done, meet me before the sun rises. Don’t disappoint me, Francis. I didn’t threaten all the kingdoms with war just for my plan to fail.” She let her arm fall to the side, the parchment slightly crushed in her tight grip. “Signed, King Renaud.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “So it was that bastard’s fault,” she said quietly.

“He’ll pay for this,” Slytherin said firmly. “And we’ll make sure of it.”

Hufflepuff stuffed the letter back into the bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Let’s pay a visit to the Goulrich king.” She turned to look at her companion hopefully. “Do you think you can turn into a dragon again?”

Slytherin smiled, a glint of red flashing in her eyes as she felt a torrent of power rising in her chest. The curse of the witch remained within her, but she was no longer trapped. She was finally free, and the ability to turn into a dragon when she wanted to was an added bonus.

“For you, Hufflepuff, I’d do anything.”

King Renaud paced around his solar chamber, impatiently waiting for any news from his personal guards. He rested his hands against the base of the window and gazed upon Goulrich Kingdom. Though the world was still cast in sleepy shadows, it was starting to wake up with a musical silence, the soul hearing the melody that the ears could not. A new day had come, new possibilities, a fresh page yet to be written.

It was most definitely a glorious day for Renaud. Soon, it will be announced to the world that Queen Hufflepuff was tragically assassinated by unknown brutes, he thought with glee. But where are those blasted guards? They should be here by now!

As if on cue, someone knocked on the door and gingerly entered. He turned his attention to a servant, who was fiddling with his fingers nervously.

“Your majesty, some people are here to speak with you—”

“Yes, I know,” Renaud interrupted. “Bring my guards in.”

The servant looked at him, confused. “My king, they are—”

“I will not repeat myself, boy!”

He shrunk back in fear and nodded frantically before scurrying away. Renaud let out an exasperated sigh as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. I’ll hire better staff once I get access to Endiac’s resources.

He heard a creak of wood and snapped his attention back to the door, ready to scold the guards for being late. However, the words died in his throat when he saw who was at the door.

“Queen Hufflepuff,” he exclaimed with a sardonic smile, taking notice of the woman who stood alongside her. “What a delightful surprise.”

She didn’t respond and merely walked into the room, her eyes trained on him.

“How did you get past my security?”

“I told them that we would be discussing the possibility of a treaty. They won’t be interrupting us anytime soon.” She stared at him with a stone-cold expression. “As for the guards that you sent to assassinate me…” She paused, relishing his expectant expression. “They’re dead.”

Slightly baffled but impressed, Renaud raked his eyes over her dirty appearance. With dirt smeared across her garments, she wore a scowl with a burning animosity that was developing in her fiery orbs—and he could tell that he was likely the root cause of the problem. He switched his attention to the other woman. The way her eyes squinted as she glared at him reminded him of a pit viper's slit-like pupils.

He cleared his throat and turned to Hufflepuff. “You look nice.”

Her nostrils flared with indignation. “Don’t try to flatter me,” she snapped. “I know what you did.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock confusion. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Hufflepuff scoffed. “Y’know,” she began as she walked closer, “I always wondered why the other kingdoms turned against me so quickly after my father died. Everyone declared war on Endiac all at once with the same exact reason—that I am unfit to rule because I am a woman.” She shook her head slowly. “It just didn’t make sense, especially because they’ve always known that I would be Queen someday and they never, not once, expressed anger or discomfort over that fact.”

“Perhaps they have finally come to their senses,” Renaud suggested with a smirk.

“Perhaps not.” She drew out a letter from the bag and held it up for him to see. “Proof,” she declared. “That forced the other kingdoms to turn against me by threatening them with war so that you could take Endiac for yourself.”

Renaud let out a chuckle and licked his lips. “So now you know,” he said.

“Of course I know,” she glowered. “And I hardly think treason is a laughing matter. When the other kingdoms hear that you were behind the attempted assassination of the rightful queen of Endiac, they will have your head for this.”

“Not when they’re following my orders—”

“Your threats will be of no use to you now! Who do you think they will side with? The man who threatened to kill them if they didn’t comply, or the queen of the kingdom that has remained at peace with their nations for years?”

Renaud’s face blanched.

A humorless smile spread onto her face. “So now you understand.” She stored the paper in the bag. “Your control over the nine kingdoms has crumbled to dust, King Renaud, and your reign will end soon enough.”

“But if the others didn’t know what I did, if they didn’t have the dear queen of Endiac to inform them of my...plans,” he said slowly, his eyes focused on the bag. “Then all will remain as it is.”

He suddenly brandished a weapon from his belt.

“I guess I have to do it myself when I want a job done.” He smiled cruelly when she wielded a sword of her own and chuckled in amusement at Slytherin, who gripped the handle of her blade but held back from intervening just yet—she knew her friend would be able to manage this. “It was a pleasure to meet both of your acquaintances, but I’m afraid our time is up.”

In an instant, Hufflepuff and Renaud were against each other, their weapons clashing. She positioned her right hand at the top end of the grip and the other hand at the bottom, which allowed for a wider range of arm movements with the sword. Thinking back to the quick lesson that Slytherin had given her before they arrived, she kept her elbows bent and close to her body as she counter-attacked.

However, she was at a disadvantage, for he was more skilled in sword fighting than her. Known for extensively training his powerful army for war, Renaud attacked as if it were as easy as breathing, and Hufflepuff wasn’t prepared for the immediate retaliation after he parried her attack. The handle of his sword collided with her jaw, and she stumbled back with a hiss through gritted teeth.

Renaud used her moment of distraction to snatch the bag away. He suddenly drew in a sharp breath and let go of the satchel, which slid across the room. Gripping the side of his arm, he looked at the blood that seeped through his sleeve. His head snapped up at Slytherin, who stared at him with enough malice to cause fear to seize his lungs. She was holding a sword, the edge of the blade lined with crimson red.

She glanced at Hufflepuff, who had recovered from the blow. They gave a quick nod to one another, a mutual understanding blooming between them.

He whipped out a second sword from his belt and eyed both of them. “This’ll be interesting,” he sneered before resuming the fight. He kept track of the simultaneous attacks, parrying the thrust of one sword while lunging at the other opponent.

Slytherin performed a brief feint at his face by lifting her arms and sword above her head to invite him to attack. Interpreting this as a perfect opportunity to jab at her stomach, he fell right into her trap. She quickly blocked the move with her weapon and successfully forced him to drop the sword by twisting his wrist whilst lifting her foot towards his groin. She pushed her heel against his body to push him off balance and slashed her sword at him to complete the attack. However, he caught the full force of the blow with his other weapon and pushed against her with his body weight.

Losing balance, she crashed into the unlit fireplace behind her. A statue wobbled from the mantle and hit her head. She slumped onto the ground with her eyes closed, motionless.

Hufflepuff gasped and turned her attention to Slytherin. Distracted, she didn’t counter Renaud’s blow of his fist. Her head snapped back from the impact and she stumbled away with blood trickling from her busted lip.

“You will die just like your father,” he said smugly, advancing toward her.

She glared at him. “I thought you liked him.”

“Liked? More like tolerated. Then again, his reign was boring me. He was too kind and moral,” he sighed in exasperation. “Too virtuous to heed my request for resources to expand my armories. It was time for things to change.”

Realization dawned on her, and she pointed the tip of her sword at him with a shaky inhale. “Did you have something to do with his death?”

He didn’t respond and merely smiled slyly. Angry, she slashed her sword at him and he parried. With their weapons pressed against each other, she glared at him with burning eyes.

“Answer me,” she demanded.

Renaud pushed against the collision of swords but she stood her ground as she looked at him expectantly.

“Yes,” he finally said.

The air from her lungs seemed to escape.

“And it merely took a slip of a homemade potion into his drink to do it.”

Her breathing was labored and ragged as tears began to brim at the corners of her eyes. Renaud sneered. “You see? Women are too emotional to lead.”

“You will regret what you did to him,” she whispered hoarsely.

The battle commenced once again. Hufflepuff fought with more aggression this time; she wanted to avenge her father and make sure that she made it out alive so that she could keep the kingdom from falling into the wrong hands. Besides that, she had people worth fighting for. Her citizens, of course, but also Slytherin. She prayed to any deity out there who was possibly listening that her friend was still alive and well.

She could only hope for the best as she fought her opponent for her nation, for her people, for Slytherin.

Renaud directed a cut towards her right leg, but she parried the attack by dropping her sword downwards and bracing with enough space to absorb the impact of the blow. She suddenly swung her weapon upwards in a flash, her blade striking his cheek. A gash drew from his jawline to the small area underneath his left eye. Blood dribbled onto the floor but he didn’t pay it any attention as he advanced towards her angrily. Knowing that he would retaliate aggressively, she tricked him by making it seem as if she was going to lunge for his arm but moved in a semi-circle arc to attack a different area.

However, he blocked the blow by turning his wrist so that it faced outward and swept the attack aside. She ducked when he swung his sword at her head, but he had anticipated this and kneed her straight in the face. She felt the oxygen knock out of her lungs when she hit the floor, blood gushing from her nose. Blinded with flashing colorful spots, she squeezed her eyes shut as a crushing pain pounded on the side of her head. She tried to will the sting to go away, but the world seemed to fall away, and all she could concentrate on was the ache rooted deep in her head. Her eyesight blurring, everything became fuzzy; then she saw nothing at all.

Renaud walked closer and raised his sword above her sprawled figure. He aimed for her stomach and brought his weapon down, but the blade clashed with another. He looked at the culprit and huffed a humorless laugh when his eyes landed on Slytherin, who had gotten up just in time to stop the attack.

“I thought you dead,” he mused, withdrawing his sword.

“You were sorely mistaken.”

Slytherin opened her body at a 45-degree angle, her left foot ahead of her right. With the position allowing her a firm base of support to attack from, she began slashing her sword at him relentlessly, the blade cutting through the air with an unrivaled speed from all the adrenaline that coursed through her body. When he thrust his weapon at the exposed opening of her inner arm, she wisely parried the attack with the forte of her sword. She whipped out the hidden knife within her sleeve and pressed the sharp edge against his fingers so that he released his weapon. Kicking his stomach with enough force to topple him over, she left him defenseless with his back against the floor, no weapon in hand.

“I promised Hufflepuff that you would pay for all the pain you’ve caused,” she said lowly. “And I intend to keep that promise.”

Scooting away from her as she walked closer, Renaud suddenly felt something behind him. The bag.

He grabbed it and was about to snatch the paper out to tear it apart when he caught sight of something that had fallen out. Before Slytherin could take another step, he pointed the wand at her.

“Drop the sword.”

Hufflepuff squirmed against the floor and pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Her consciousness floated through an empty space filled with a thick static. Throughout the inky space, her heartbeat pounded loudly and echoed in her ears, alongside fading voices.

Slytherin, she thought groggily. Is that Slytherin?

She opened her eyes, blinking several times to clear her blurry vision. With difficulty, she propped herself up and caught sight of Slytherin, who seemed to be bound by thick cords.

“I knew I remembered you from somewhere. You’re the famed dame who disappeared after her tragic loss in Mortham Village. I have to say, you are an exceptional fighter.” Renaud placed the letter onto his desk before walking closer to her.

“But no one ever said anything about your beauty,” he drawled, reaching out to brush the underside of her chin with the tips of his crooked fingers. She defiantly turned her head out of his grasp and pulled against the restraints, but they didn’t budge. She gave him a withering look when he chuckled at her struggles. “It would be a shame to kill you. Won’t you consider joining me? You can be my queen, and we can rule Goulrich together.”

She spat at his face. “You can go to hell,” she seethed through gritted teeth.

The corners of his mouth rose almost imperceptibly as he wiped at his cheek. “You have a fiery temper, I’ll give you that.”

Before he could say anything else, he abruptly crumbled to the floor. Slytherin instinctively jerked away but let out a sigh of relief when she saw Hufflepuff standing in front of his body with a crowbar. “Where’d you get that,” she exclaimed.

Hufflepuff ran to her and began cutting through the rope. “Doesn’t matter,” she exhaled. “I’m just glad he didn’t turn around.”

Slytherin beamed at her but suddenly focused on something behind her. “Hufflepuff, look out!” However, she didn’t have enough time to heed the warning.

Renaud, who had recovered, grabbed Hufflepuff by the arm and flung her onto the ground. “You never quit, do you?” He pulled her up by the collar and whipped her around, his chest against her back.

His arm closed in a vise-like grip around her neck. “When will you learn that you’re just a pathetic little princess,” he snarled. She thrashed against him and dug her nails into his skin, but his grip was unyielding. Her lungs began to burn from lack of air, and dark spots danced across her vision as she became more and more frantic. She reached back to claw at his face but he merely tightened his hold, and her breathing momentarily stopped. The ache in her chest grew worse by the moment as she writhed under his grasp, small ragged breaths escaping her throat. Slowly the world started to spin, to fade, as each sound grew dull.

Maybe Renaud was right. Maybe she was never destined to be the queen that Endiac needed. She had failed her nation. She had failed Slytherin, who was probably going to suffer a similar fate.

Oh, if only she had more time. With her eyes closed in defeat, a tear slid down her cheek.

Someone knocked on the door.

Hufflepuff’s eyes flew open and she took a sharp gasp of air, clutching her throat. She looked around frantically; where were Renaud and Slytherin? Her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion when she realized that her entire surroundings had changed. She was...home? Before she could figure out how this was possible, someone interrupted her thoughts.

“Father?”

She turned towards the sound of the voice and saw a girl poking her head through the crevice of the door; the strange part was that she looked exactly like her.

How could this be, she thought as she shook her head in disbelief. What’s going on?

“Come in, my dear child.”

Her heart dropped when she heard that voice. She knew that voice. She slowly turned around, and what she saw made her jaw drop, though a part of her already knew.

Her father laid on his bed, the corners of his eyes crinkled into the familiar smile wrinkles etched in his face.

Hufflepuff drew in a shaky breath and could barely do anything but stare in shock at him. Now, this was getting a little too much for her. First, she saw an exact replica of herself who was standing a few feet away from her; now she was looking at her dad, who was supposed to be dead but was currently laying before her, rested and well. Well, she wouldn’t actually describe him like that. He looked tired and quite pale.

Wait a minute…

Before she could connect the dots, she heard the door creak open. She turned around and saw the other Hufflepuff running towards her. She stumbled back and braced for impact when the girl seemed as if she was going to collide with her. The last thing that she expected was for the clone to run right through her.

Hufflepuff gasped and clutched her body. What in the world was going on?

Am I a ghost, she wondered, dread starting to creep up her neck. Is this the afterlife?

She turned back to the other Hufflepuff, who was now kneeling by the bedside.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long,” the girl said quietly, clutching her father’s hand. “I went to visit a fairy for…”

She paused but he spoke before she could say anything. “Was it to wish for a pet unicorn?”

The tense environment evaporated as a goofy smile spread across his face, which, in turn, made her smile as well. She exhaled a laugh and shook her head with a grin.

“Wait,” the original Hufflepuff whispered. “I remember this…” An ache settled uncomfortably in her chest. This was the last time she spoke with her father.

Maybe I really am dead, she thought glumly, waving a hand through the girl. Her fingers went straight through, leaving small wisps of cloudiness in its wake. With a sigh, she sat on the other side of the bed and gazed upon her father. I might as well enjoy this memory.

The smile on past-Hufflepuff’s face disappeared and was replaced with a vacant expression, her eyes fixated on the distance as if her mind were elsewhere.

As if he could sense her grief, he squeezed her hand and brought her attention back to him. “Thank you for trying to find a cure,” he said. “But I fear that this can not be solved.”

Past-Hufflepuff clenched her jaw as she willed the tears away. Though she wanted nothing more than to start bawling in tears, she wanted to stay strong for him.

He sighed wistfully. “If only I could be there to see your reaction at the lantern light festival.” It was a tradition in Endiac for the citizens to hold festivals and celebrate to express their gratitude for the king or queen. “It’s a marvelous sight, and I know you will enjoy it.”

He suddenly coughed, his entire body jolting as the sickness racked through his chest. After a while, it calmed down and he laid against the pillow, exhausted.

She shook her head in sorrow. “I…” Her words caught in her throat and she let her head drop. “Please don’t leave me,” she said in a broken whisper, tears welling up in her eyes. “I need you, Endiac needs you.”

He pulled her into a hug as she wept. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, trying to remember his warmth, his light, his presence.

“On the contrary, dear, they have you,” he consoled. “I wish I wasn’t leaving like this, especially when I still have much to teach you. But you shall learn them on your own in due time. I know that you will be a wonderful queen—and don’t think otherwise.” He pulled her back so that she looked at him. “I have faith in you, Hufflepuff. You will be a kind and benevolent ruler, but you will also be stoic and stern. Keep your chin up, my child.” He smiled reassuringly and leaned forward to press a kiss against her forehead.

“You were always destined to be Queen.”

Hufflepuff was abruptly pulled away from the flashback. She opened her eyes and felt the familiar pressure against her collarbone. She was back to where she was before—stuck in a chokehold.

She thought about what Renaud had said to her: “When will you learn that you’re just a pathetic little princess?”

With a fresh boost of empowerment from the memory, she tore off the padding that covered his arm and dug her nails into his skin with newfound energy. The pain was enough for him to loosen his grip, and she took a grateful gasp of air.

“You’re wrong,” she wheezed before elbowing him in the gut. He made an oomph! sound and doubled over, clutching his stomach. “I’m a queen.”

She picked up Slytherin’s dagger from the floor and ambled closer, kicking away the weapon that laid beside him before he could reach for it. He frantically stood up and snatched the knife that was strapped to the side of his tunic.

When he raised his hand to strike, she sidestepped and blocked her arm with his, their limbs forming an ‘X’. She pushed her arm over and under his in a full circular motion. In doing so, she trapped his arm against his collarbone, the edge of her weapon pressed against his neck. Her unrelenting stare was fixated on his every struggle, the pressure of the blade on his skin threatening to cut into his flesh at any moment.

It wasn’t the dagger that made Renaud freeze.

It flowed deeper than blood and higher than breath, engraved in her bones and carved on her lungs. The power that Hufflepuff was radiating made it seem as if the entire world was holding its breath, waiting to see what she did next. This was a queen, wholly and truly—and a queen who has had enough.

“Now be done with all this deceitful nonsense,” she ordered sharply. “You will sign a treaty and swear on an oath that no harm will ever come to Endiac from your kingdom ever again. It is time to unite our nations once and for all.”

“And if I refuse to sign?”

“Then you shall see my less merciful side.”

“You wouldn’t hurt a fly.” he sneered. “Let alone kill a man.”

“Perhaps not.” She spun them around so that they faced Slytherin, who had released herself from the bounds by using the knife that she had left behind. “But she probably would.”

Hufflepuff knocked the knife out of his hand and shoved him forwards. He fell to the floor. “Shall we find out?”

When Slytherin walked towards him with sharp eyes that seared straight into his skull, he scrambled back and raised his hands in defeat. “Alright,” he relented. “You have my word.”

“Call for a conference with the other kingdoms,” Slytherin instructed. “We will all gather in Endiac tomorrow to discuss what has come of this day.”

His brows knitted in a frown. The other rulers would likely force him off the throne if they found out what he had done. Perhaps he could form a plan to stall the meeting before it was too late. However, one look at Slytherin, who was staring at him darkly, and he put those thoughts to rest immediately.

“I’ll get right to it, Your Majesties.”

Renaud rushed to his desk to craft a new accord that would bring the promise of peaceful beginnings between Endiac and Goulrich.

Hufflepuff glanced at her companion with a warm smile and touched her arm, leading her towards the table. “Come,” she said. “Let’s consider what we shall write in the treaty with him.”

Slytherin faltered. “I’m not sure if I’m qualified to discuss such important matters…”

“You have every right to be involved in this discussion as I have,” she assured. “And I know that you will have some wonderful ideas that will help our kingdom.”

The subtle upward quirk of her mouth replaced the hesitant expression. Our. A blush spread across her cheeks, and she cleared her throat before nodding. She stepped to the side and bent forward with a dramatic gesture. “After you.”

Hufflepuff hummed softly, a sparkle in her eyes. “Thank you,” she curtsied.

A few hours later, they walked through the front doors and stepped outside, the newly-made treaty resting safely in Hufflepuff’s bag. The world had finally awoken, the rays of light shining down like intricately woven threads of gold. It was exceptionally beautiful today. Glorious shades of orange and red seeped over the horizon as if they were poured from molten lava.

The sun’s rays came as nature's easel, giving brilliant color to what was hidden under the passing starlit night. The bright beauty cast flying hippogriffs into dark shadows against the sky. Their wings beat, hugging the air as they drifted on unseen thermals. They captured Slytherin’s eye for a few moments, keeping her spun into some sort of daydream. She felt someone looking at her and glanced to the side, her broad smile widening when she met Hufflepuff’s gaze. It was peaceful to just exist for once and not have to worry about the next enemy to fight. They stood side by side, just living and breathing with no goal other than to just be.

They could get used to this: being happy, being together, being happy and together. And they would—because they had all the time in the world.

“Right then,” Slytherin said with glowing eyes. “Where shall we go now?”

Hufflepuff smiled and looked into the distance.

“Home.”

The council members were going over ideas on how to reunite the kingdoms. They wondered where the Queen was, for she left the castle yesterday and had not been seen since. Suddenly, the light streaming from the window disappeared, leaving the room in complete darkness for a brief moment.

They looked at each other in confusion before their attention turned to the sudden cheering that could be heard from outside.

“What in the heavens is that,” one of them asked, walking to the window. Her face suddenly paled and one of the other council members questioned her before going to see what the commotion was about. He stared, slack-jawed.

A dragon was perched on the main courtyard of the kingdom with a surrounding crowd. “Alert the guards,” the councilman shouted frantically. “There’s a dragon out there and it must be killed!” He pressed his face against the window, his eyes widening in fear once again as he stared at the fearsome creature. “It’s gonna eat all the citizens!”

“There’s no need to get hysterical,” the fairies called out, entering the room with smiles on their faces. The purple fairy gestured to the councilman to take another look. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before squinting at the dragon once again. Perched on the back of the dragon was Queen Hufflepuff, who didn’t look the least bit terrified of the creature. His jaw dropped again.

The purple fairy stifled a laugh before clasping her hands together. “Come along now, we must greet our Queen. It’s time to rejoice at her return, yes?”

The councilman looked at her in bewilderment. “But the threat of war is still upon us, we can not celebrate until—”

A messenger suddenly burst into the room. “Forgive my intrusion,” the girl said firmly. “But I have urgent news from King Renaud.”

His face paled and he wrung his hands in worry. “Oh, he has probably sent word that his troops are coming or—or his army is going to invade the castle any moment now!”

“Actually, the king has requested a conference with all the kingdoms, including Endiac, to discuss matters of peace.”

The councilman’s jaw dropped for the third time that day.

Soon after, the dragon became the protector of Endiac, occasionally appearing when there was trouble. Despite the fact that the creature was on their side, it was difficult for everyone to warm up to the beast at first.

One day, a villager trudged to a nearby creek with a wash bin. When she arrived, she nearly screamed and covered her mouth in shock. The basket dropped, clothes spilling out onto the dirt. A child stood before the dragon that she had heard about but never seen before. Their sizes were drastically different, for the massive creature loomed over the small boy. His hand was raised, his soft flesh inches away from its snout.

The woman was about to run back to the village and call for help, but what happened next stopped her in her tracks. Instead of chomping down on the boy’s hand as she had expected, the dragon slowly leaned into his touch.

A toothy grin spreading across his face, the pleasantly surprised boy smoothed his fingers across the small bumps that were scattered across its face. His tiny hands looked sweet and comical against the vast surface of smooth scales.

“Draugin,” the boy exclaimed in delight. “Draugin!!”

She noticed something and edged closer. Was the ‘draugin’…smiling? “What in the heavens,” she whispered in wonder.

The creature suddenly swerved its head and looked right at her. It immediately backed away from the boy and took flight, its wings creating a torrent of wind as it flew towards the castle. She stared at the fading dot of the dragon for a moment before checking in on the boy, who was unscathed.

The woman spread the word of what she saw that day. At first, no one believed her. However, a man from another village encountered something similar when he was exploring the forest and saw the dragon shooting sparks of fire into the air next to a girl who clapped and cooed at the pretty display—and another villager did too, and so did another one, and another one, and so on. Soon, everyone realized that the supposedly fearsome beast wasn’t so bad after all. The citizens of Endiac had come to treat the dragon as its own.

Besides that, there weren’t any disputes of opposition to Queen Hufflepuff’s place on the throne. For one, no one wanted to be met with a fiery death by the hand, or should I say claw, of the dragon, who seemed awfully protective of her. Second, nobody desired to overthrow the queen, for she was considered one of the greatest rulers of her time.

Hufflepuff commanded rooms and people alike with simple words. She carried her gentleness as an asset and not a burden, but didn’t shy from firmness. It was as if she were always destined to be Queen.

A woman by the name of Slytherin was appointed as Hufflepuff’s second-in-command. Everyone loved her, for she was quite charming and knew how to engage someone in a fun conversation. She visited the villagers and explored their markets when she had the chance. The footpaths were often crowded with stalls selling sacks of nuts and dried fruit, or meat roasting on roasting skewers. Rich and unfamiliar scents cut through the air, so heavy she could taste them in her mouth. She always drifted to the sweets section, her eyes gleaming at the array of desserts that ranged from treacle tarts to cauldron cakes. Not only that, but she examined their inventions and creations, expressing her fascination whenever she saw something new or interesting.

“So,” Slytherin pondered, engrossed in a painting. “These are two pretty best friends?”

��No, Your Grace, there can never be two pretty best friends,” a citizen explained, pointing at a figure in the portrait. “One of them has got to be ugly.”

Hufflepuff and Slytherin were leaning against the railing of the balcony that overlooked the kingdom. Night had fallen, but their surroundings were lit with festivities to celebrate the rule of their benevolent queen.

Hufflepuff gazed upon floating orbs of gold that danced and twirled in the air. Lanterns were illuminated like stars across the inky black sky. Those on the water merged with the reflections of those in the heavens, creating an unearthly experience. Her father was right. This was a marvelous sight indeed.

Slytherin watched as some of the villagers play around with magic. She smiled pleasantly when green sparks flew from the tips of their wands. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, she turned to the side, capturing Hufflepuff’s warm gaze with her own. “Is something wrong, my sweet,” she asked softly, clasping their hands together.

Hufflepuff merely shook her head and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Nothing at all, love. It’s just…”

She let out a hum of amusement before pressing their foreheads together. “A queen and a dragon. Who would’ve thought,” she said softly, smiling like the sun, and Slytherin felt as if she fell just as hard as she had years earlier.

Her gaze softened as she thought about the day she met Hufflepuff, the moment when green met brown, the instant when their worlds collided. Her heart swelled with affection as she thanked her lucky stars that she met her wife on that fateful day.

She leaned in for a kiss and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. She finally pulled away and brushed her nose against Hufflepuff’s.

Slytherin rested her hand below her ear, their breaths mingling as her thumb caressed her cheek.

“Even fate picks its favorites sometimes.”

MASTERLIST (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง << (sometimes links don’t work for some reason; if you can’t see it, just go to my profile. there, you shall find my masterlist, which is the pinned post.)

Let me know how you felt about the fic! I welcome your glorious keysmashes, incoherent thoughts, screeches of happiness, or a simple “oh my gucci gumdrops.” comment--basically anything! I ALSO APPRECIATE THOSE LUSCIOUS REBLOGS!

PARTIALLY BASED ON THIS LITTLE SNIPPET <<

here is link in case the clickable link is not working:

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8kvv8t/wp_nobody_dared_go_near_the_tower_as_a_fearsome/

AUTHOR’S NOTE: ***Includes deleted scenes, memes, analysis of scenes, updates on blog/life, and all kinds of fun stuff***

(this story was originally supposed to be posted on Thanksgiving but then I didn’t finish, so I will just leave what I had originally written for the author’s note on Thanksgiving. basically the text outside the parenthesis is what i wrote for thanksgiving, which was a month ago. however, I will still write more.)

HI!! Hoped you love that because I love all of you dearly. OK HERE WE GO W THE LONG AUTHORS NOTE;it is a little disorganized and you will get whiplash from how fast i change topics:

First of all, today is thanksgiving (bruh not anymore -current jessica) but fuck that tbh. At first i was excited about this holiday because my family celebrates and its a chance for me to give thanks to special people. this day is supposed to give “warm” and “happy” feelings; in truth, colonists are bitches, Christopher Columbus is a very terrible person who commited mass genoicides, so this is a shitty holiday because colonists created it to mask all the destruction that they caused. Despite this god forsaken day, i would like to give my thanks to you all for being spectacular and amazing, because i hit 600 followers a while ago; does anyone remember that? Its kinda embarrassing how i was like “yall know what that means” and then i proceeded to not post a fanfic until weeks later (hi everyone, this is the current jessica and i am here to laugh at myself because the past me did NOT know that i would be posting this a MONTH LATER). Nevertheless im here now so hi! :D did anyone think i wasnt gonna post a fanfic for november? Granted, it was definitely much later than i would have normally posted; usually i post the monthly fanfic at the beginning of the year, but i was busy with school and college stuff.

it is likely that i will not be posting a fanfic for december because thats the most important month in terms of college stuff. If i get it done early, i will write bc i am essentially free from all the college stuff, and by then, i will explode with happiness and have time to write!

lmaoaoao this is me whenever someone is like, when are you gonna finish part 2 of cheater or update the slytherpuff series?

(hello this is the current jessica again and i have another meme that represents my sporadic writing style:

me on thanksgiving: hi everyone haha im posting the fanfic in 10 min!!!

me on new year’s eve: hey.....how y’all doin.... (if you get that reference, i love you)

ok bye continue reading what the past me said. actually u know what, lets talk some smack about her, i secretly despise her, lmk how u feel about the past jessica like omg girl just shut up--LMAO IM KIDDING)

This fanfic used to be a fairytale that I wrote for english class last year. I changed the names and the ending. It is quite different now! the old ending is funny and weird because we were supposed to hint at a larger lesson in life, and i chose “dont judge a book by its cover”. i guess that does apply to the changed story now because huff didn't think that sly was as scary as her appearance made her out to be.

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ok hi AGAIN this is current jessica. the past me said that if anyone wants to see the original fairytale, comment and lmk and i shall post it as a reblog to this post. however i decided to just include it right here, right now:

“Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess named Liesel who lived with her family in a glorious castle on the top of the hill that overlooked the entire kingdom. Her father, King Aeneas, ruled over the subjects of Endiac, a lush land that stretched for miles and was full of magical creatures. Everyone loved the royal family and lived in harmony with the neighboring kingdoms. The subjects especially loved Princess Liesel, who was as generous as a fairy and as beautiful as a unicorn. Everyone lived happily under the reign of King Aeneas and his family.

All was peaceful in Endiac until King Aeneas fell terribly ill. Everyone grew anxious for his recovery, especially Princess Liesel. Kneeling next to her father on his bedside, Liesel called to the fairies and cried, “Please help my father get better. The kingdom will surely collapse without him!” However, the fairies did not know of any cure for the king’s strange illness. All the magical herbs they had given to him did nothing to help his condition. By nightfall, the subjects were devastated to hear that King Aeneas had passed away.

When Liesel was crowned Queen, chaos reigned the once beloved kingdom. Immediately after neighboring kingdoms received word that King Aeneas died, they declared war on Endiac and vowed to overthrow the Queen because a girl couldn’t possibly lead a kingdom. Liesel quickly called the fairies and asked them what she should do.

The purple fairy exclaimed, “You need to show them that you’re strong enough to lead the kingdom!” and poofed a scroll into Liesel’s hand. “There’s a dragon that lives near Endiac. It is supposedly so fearsome that no one dares to go near it!”

Liesel looked at the fairy in fear and shook her head. “And what am I supposed to do with that delightful piece of information?”

“You must defeat the dragon to show the kingdom that you’re strong enough to lead the people!”

Liesel was about to object but the pink fairy sprinkled courage dust around her, transforming Liesel into a brave knight.

“You’re absolutely right! I must defeat this dragon and prove that I can lead my kingdom!” Liesel exclaimed, marching out of the room and towards her destiny. When Liesel finally got to the dragon’s nest, the courage dust wore off and she looked around in confusion.

“Where am I?” she asked. Liesel slowly looked up, only to find two enormous green eyes staring back. She thought that she was gonna become the dragon’s meal for sure, but something surprising happened.

The dragon suddenly smiled and said, “Hello, how do you do? You’re the first visitor I’ve ever had! I get quite lonely sometimes.”

Liesel stopped cowering in fear. “You’re not gonna eat me,” she asked.

The dragon said in bewilderment, “Of course not, I’m a vegan!”

Liesel shook her head in disbelief and exclaimed, “But you’re the fearsome dragon that everyone talks about!”

The dragon exploded with booming laughter. “Yes, some dragons tell me I can be quite intimidating. But you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover! It’s quite rude.”

Liesel apologized and had a long talk with the dragon about everything that’s been going on. The dragon happened to have a very good solution that would help both of them.

A little girl was playing with her toys when a big shadow flew over the kingdom. She looked up in surprise to see Queen Liesel riding the fearsome dragon that she’s always heard about.

Soon after, the dragon became the protector of Endiac and was lonely no longer. In fact, the dragon had a lot of fun giving the subjects a ride around the kingdom. As for Queen Liesel, no one dared to question her ability to rule the kingdom of Endiac. After all, anyone who was able to befriend a “fearsome” dragon was able to lead a kingdom.”

OK YEA THATS IT! i feel like maybe i was always destined to be a writer of some sort because when i was writing the original story that u just read (above), i wrote above the max pages that i was supposed to write for english class and i was desperate to write even more, so i emailed the teacher and was like CAN I DO SINGLE SPACE so that it frees up more space and i could write more and she said, “i think you know the answer to that” and i was like :( bc it meant i had to do doublespace. i am glad i went back to the story and changed it to what it is now. its kinda funny how it went from 3 pages double-spaced to about sixty pages on the google docs (which included the author’s note so the story that u are reading now is probably around 40 to 50 pages, which is still a lot).

anyways back to the original author’s note:

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“Aeneas” sounds like anus and i laughed about it yesterday bc im weird

There were plenty of small things that didnt make much sense when you read the story for the first time. However, after you reread it, you pick up on stuff- like how slytherin reacted when she saw hufflepuff’s wand. you will realize later on that it was because of the witch who welded a similar-looking wand, which is explained later on. I remember reading this post that said that the best written works are the ones in which there are small hints and things to decipher. After you reread it, you pick up on the small clues, which makes it so much better because youre like oh damn why didnt i catch that before? I tried doing that- i started to continue writing it a few days ago; yesterday i stayed up until 1 am writing it but i bullshitted the ending bc i was very tired; i spent most of today changing the ending, then going back to the middle, changing and adding stuff, then rereading everything and editing anything that felt odd or needed something more of. i made sure to maneuver most of their conversation into answering questions that the reader had: why didnt sly use her wings to get off the bridge, how is sly a dragon, etc.

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HELLO IT IS THE CURRENT JESSICA ONCE AGAIN! basically, i would like to add on to past jessica’s point above on how i went back and added more stuff. the reason why it took so long for me to write this and post it is because i added a lot more scenes, such as the part in which you meet Helia and read her backstory. that did not exist at all. there was no helia. however, i added it to emphasize on the idea of “fate” and how her father died and hufflepuff was destined to be queen now and meet slytherin.

i also included the part with king renaud. he did not exist at all when i was ready to post for thanksgiving. however i decided to add that because the readers are left confused--theres a plot hole that must be filled! after all, the goulrich king sent his guards after hufflepuff to kill her. when i was looking over the fanfic weeks ago, i was like UH HELLO WTF DOES SHE DO ABOUT IT??? so i added that and i hated it. well i didnt hate it, but it was quite tedious to write. i have never known so much about swordfighting than i do now lamdihsdmsfi like oh my gosh i rlly did the most. i read articles and watched videos on people fighting with swords, daggers, etc.

anyways, i knew that i would have to write a lot for the fight scene between hufflepuff and renaud. it had to be more compared to that with the guards, bc this is the KING. the fight will be more intense. huff will struggle more, etc. i got stuck on that part and was agitated because its just hard trying to learn all the different moves and write about it and try to engage the reader while doing all of that bc i didnt wanna drone on and on about them fighting, like “she smacked him. he blocked and stabbed her arm.” i wanted to be like OO SHE DID THIS BUT HE DID THAT AND THEN SHE SAID SOMETHING COOL AND HE RETORTED WITH SOMETHING ELSE, ETC.

other scenes that i added were the flashback with the dad and when hufflepuff asks slytherin to stay in endiac. in the fic that was going to be posted on thanskgiving, there was none of that. instead, as you saw near the end, it indicated that slytherin was staying at endiac, but there was NO DISCUSSION OF IT. DO U SEE THE PLOTHOLE?! i sure did. there were many scattered throughout the story. not only that, but sometimes more is better. for instance, i also added the scene in which the citizens start liking the dragon. i wanted to show how glorious and fun slytherin is.

i also added the part where hufflepuff chooses to stay and fight francis after slytherin told her to run when they caught her at the grassyfield place. in the original, hufflepuff just runs. AND I DID NOT LIKE THAT! i was like bruh why did i do that, i should change it so that hufflepuff stays bc before she was feeling guilty and now sly is telling her to run AGAIN and she just... does??!?!? so i decided to write even more and make her fight someone, who led to more research and more time used in writing, hence the delay. its kinda funny tho like

sly: run hufflepuff!

huff: ok

sly: WAIT COME BACK I DIDNT MEAN IT--

hahaahdhahah ok anyways it was funny in the scene where it said, “slytherin was hufflepuff’s second-in-command”. u know those stories in the faraway past in which there were two women who lived together and never married and shared a bed and people were like, “awww they were best friends!”; yea that reminds me of “she was her second-in-command” like hahahdsj yea sure ok

also if u reread the story, u will notice some connections, like how huff’s dad said “u were destined to be queen” and now that huff is ruling over the kingdom, it said that she was a wonderful queen and it was as if she were always destined to be queen. also there is a connection between the scenes in which renaud was choking hufflepuff and the story said “oh if only she had more time” as in “shes gonna die soon, she will never know what it was like to spend time w sly or just live life” but after the battle was over and everything was good again, the story implied “and they would--because they had all the time in the world”. ISNT THAT SO SWEET!!! i also loveeee the ending, because throughout the fic, it emphasized the idea of fate and the line “even fate picks its favorites” is very heartwarming.

finally lets discuss slytherin at the end of the story. i guess some people might be wondering, arent the people of endiac confused when they saw slytherin? shes famous and is technically supposed to be dead bc she was from a while ago (i didnt add a specific time thing, like i didnt say “oh she lived hundreds of years ago” because i dont care, its up to the reader or whatever, i just felt like it was unnecessary to include). anyways yea ppl might be confused, because renaud and his guards did recognize slytherin, so whats gonna happen with that? well there was no implication that hufflepuff recognized slytherin immediately or knew of her past, so lets just say that slytherin lived in a faraway kingdom to the point where people in endiac never really heard of her famous knighthood shenanigans, as in its not very widespread like people in endiac arent making a huge deal out of it. besides that, lets think of Endiac as the “Hufflepuff of Kingdoms” if that makes sense. king aeneas was known to be amazing and generous and kind, and so is hufflepuff, and overall everyone loves them, which connects to how people feel about hufflepuffs. thus, when people realize that it is slytherin wildhorn who is with them, they wont judge her or be like WHAT IN THE WORLD WTF, theyll be chill and be like cool! or ok nice to meet u gorl!

anyways thats all for now. toodles from current jessica and back to past j

_______

Also YESSS MY FIRST LGBT+ FANFIC!!!! I fucking loved writing this, it was so glorious and lovely. The reason why im suddenly mentioning this is because i gave a hint on hufflepuff’s sexuality when the councilman was like hey marry the prince and she was like NAH

Hufflepuff when she saw slytherin:

It was just a tad bit difficult to use “she/her” pronouns for both of them because i had to decipher who was saying what. an example of how it was difficult is “she put her hand over hers” and stuff like that. Hopefully you werent too confused in some moments, i rlly tried my best to make it flow well. however i dont wanna sound like im complaining, there is absolutely nothing wrong w that and this will certainly not be the only LGBT+ story i write. Gosh i kept writing straight couple fanfics and i felt iffy about it bc representation and diversity in writing is important to me.

also FUCK YES LETS ALL STAN THE FAIRIES!!! i tried to hint that they knew all along what was gonna happen. i showed my sister the fanfic before posting it and when she read the ominous moment when the fairy was like “hufflepuff will meet her fate soon enough”, she was like are the fairies gonna be evil?... and i didnt answer and looked at her like

and she was like ok yea the fairies are probably gonna be evil

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hi its me again. im gonna start the section for bonus scenes bc i am sure that many of you are excited for that. also the past me did not intend on having a section for that, but since i deleted some scenes, i will do that now:

“Many subjects gathered around a mural for Hufflepuff and bestowed gifts before her statue, thankful to be under her benevolent reign. As more people came to give thanks to their queen, someone questioned her marital status. “I dont think she ever married,” a man spoke up.

“That’s a shame,” another subject sighed, looking up at the statue. “She’s quite beautiful. I don’t understand why a king hasn’t asked for her hand in marriage.”

Little did they know that the queen had indeed found true love, her heart in the hands of a courageous being with strikingly green eyes that glowed with warmth and affection for a special someone.”

I decided to delete this at the end because lets not make the citizens ignorant and heteronormative.................. it just wasnt necessary and didnt feel right so i deleted.

Slytherin scrunched her nose as she recalled the event. “I thought I had successfully defeated all of them, but I turned my back too soon.” She bitterly shook her head at the mistake. “I should’ve just killed them where they stood.”

Hufflepuff squeezed her hand gently and assured her that she was proud of her regardless of that. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead right now.” She frowned as she thought back to what had happened a few moments ago. “I didn’t know you could turn back into a dragon.”

I deleted this, which was originally supposed to be the part when sly saves huff from falling. after the rescue, she originally said this but i deleted it bc it doesnt flow well. basically when they land safely on the ground, huff asks “what happened before, how did they capture you after i left?” and that is slytherins reply. at first i had written that to indicate what happened bc readers are like, “wait what i thought sly was a badass, how did they defeat her?” but then i deleted it. imagine if you just fell from a cliff and ur friend rescued you and immediately youre like “sooooo about that thing from before..” instead of asking “DUDE HOW DID U TURN INTO A DRAGON?!?!” thus, i changed it so that huff was like wait bruv how are u a dragon?

She also loved spinning tales when they all gathered around the campfire, and told them about adventures concerning dragons and creatures alike. Some of the neighboring kingdoms thought her to be unusual, but they didn’t dare to mock her. No one wanted to mess with her after watching her train some soldiers in the courtyard.

i deleted this scene in which it discusses what slytherin’s life is like now (i.e. the part in which she talks to the villagers and visits them and tries new stuff. ALSO WAIT HOLD UP CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE TWO PRETTY BEST FRIENDS THING BC I HAVE NEVER LAUGHED SO HARD IN THE ENTIRE LIFE WHEN I THOUGHT OF THAT. HEY G UR PROBABLY READING THIS RN AND U KNOW IM REFERRING TO U BC SOMETIMES I CALL U G, THIS IS THE PART THAT I TOLD U ABOUT, I TOLD U THAT U WOULD UNDERSTAND IMMEDIATELY THAT IT WAS THE JOKE I TOLD U VIA INSTA LMAOAO!! the idea sprung to me in the morning and every time i thought about it, i just started cackling, like full on.) ok anways yea i just deleted the scene bc it was unnecessary and i felt like ending it off with the joke was fine and funny

ok thats all the deleted scenes.

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NOW ITS TIME FOR ANALYSIS:

“Slytherin had a pleasant smile as she watched some of her subjects play around with magic, green swirls sparkling from the tips of their wands.” This is an indication that she is ok with her past now.

“If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven, okay?” Does anyone watch The 100? If so, this is a bellarke reference!

“The forest? That would be too dangerous, seeing as how there were plenty of dangerous people who roamed throughout the woods, looking for an easy target.” This was hint of what was about to happen in regards to the bad men who wanted to kill huff, being that they emerged from the forest.

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hi its me again, i am including more analysis for the new scenes that i implemented after the past authors note:

“With a heavy heart, she prepared for the long journey ahead.” This is not just a reference to the horse ride back to the castle, but for the actual journey concerning hufflepuff’s growth as a person and queen and confidence

“Is something wrong, my sweet,” she asked softly, clasping their hands together.” it is lovely to see how slytherin addresses hufflepuff compared to then and now, from Your Majesty to My Sweet. AINT THAT CUTEEE:))

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This is an image that represents how i imagined the cliff looked like:

Fyi, while i was editing stuff, i went back to the middle and added some dialogue for hufflepuff so that she sounds like a really good friend and a great person who kept comforting sly when she was sad about her past. It shows that theyre compatible for each other! Its also a classic slytherpuff dynamic in which sly is a badass who will fight anyone to the death if they harm hufflepuff. Also can we just appreciate slytherin whos a total badass??? The “woman” part was fucking POWERFUL!! I loved writing her, shes one of my favorite characters bc shes a fucking badass like YES SHE DID THAT!!!!

Me while i was writing slytherin fighting the bad guys:

Hufflepuff when Slytherin said “This’ll be fun” before she fought the men:

slytherin watching hufflepuff fight renaud and say “im a queen”:

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me again with new meme:

Renaud staring at slytherin and hufflepuff flirt with each other in that scene when she bowed and was like AFTER U while hes trying to write the treaty:

lowkey i just wanted to write,

“no you go ahead” “no u go, ur a queen” “no u should go, ur a wonderful soldier” “no i insist” “no *i* insist” “ok bitch can u shut the fuck up and just go-”

______

i asked my sister what she thought about this sentence: ““But this wasn’t the first time that happened, was it, Slytherin Wildhorn?” (original version before changed) and I felt iffy about it because there seemed to be too many commas, and I asked if it were grammatically correct. She changed it to ““But this wasn’t the first time that happened... was it, Slytherin Wildhorn?” and i legit started screaming and i said OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO and she said OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO and our voices synced up and it was just so chaotic and funny

This is for all of you for 600!! Thank you very much, i definitely have more than 600 now because its been a while since i hit that mark but i still wanna say thanks very very much!! Love you muchooooo<3

Ok, onto stuff that ISNT related to this fanfic: For the original slytherpuff series, I took out most of the smut and moved it to another big series. its weird to have the smut in the original series, because it would take place during their 7th year- huff and sly would be 18, which is still eh. Its unrealistic and very typical in american movies and the media. It sets up very unrealistic expectations, and some people feel bad when they havent had their first kiss yet when theyre in college, and i do NOT wanna promote that image in my fanfiction. I always felt iffy about it because they would technically be like seniors in high school, and not everyone has sex during that time, and that is often forced onto people through the media in movies, like OO IM HAVING SEX!! IM 17 AND IM HAVING SEX, WBU BITCH?? Bruh um no thank you. I felt SO much better when i moved it to the other series, bc in that series, theyre gonna be 18+

As implied in the previous paragraph, I made a new series that I had for a while but never really expanded the plot very much. i added a ton of details (from 4 to 18 pages in a span of 2 days- my creative juices reserved for writing were overspilling because i usually use those brain cells to write in the beginning of a month, but since i didnt, i just suddenly started writing a lot). in this series, huff and sly will be older like 19 or 20. I am so excited to write it, i probably wont write it for a long time bc i want to finish the first series first and idk when that will be bc its quite long

It will actually have a plot like a series of events. meanwhile the current series- after a certain point- will be fluff and not necessarily contribute to the plot bc theres theoretically no plot. thats how it resonates w the title “Slytherin x hufflepuff relationship” because its just about their relationship. there is no genuine plot except for their journey to relationship. After they actually get together, it will just be lots of fluff and rare indication of smut at all- it reminds me of headcannons or oneshots but i will not do that bc it is nice to know tht the fluff happened to this huff and sly couple specifically! The fluff is in terms of meeting parents, baking, rainy day, stuff like that

For the new series, u will be on your tippy toes, every chapter has a reason. meanwhile, current will be fun and sweet.

I think i have said this before but im saying it again: IM NOT CHANGING NAMES FOR CURRENT SERIES, I DONT LIKE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS AT ALL!! People know who huff and sly are, readers can replace the names with other characters or put themselves into the situation

To conclude, I love you all very very much. Be sure to comment how you felt about this and reblog are very very appreciated. Thank you and see you laterrrrrrrr<3!!!!

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OK HI FINALLY THAT IS ALL I WROTE FOR THE THANKSGIVING AUTHORS NOTE. whenever i did “_______” that meant that i was adding something new, as you could probably tell bc i reminded you every 5 seconds. whenever i had something new that related to the previous author’s note, like the meme section or analysis section, i did the line thing so that i could add to it. ok anywayssss i have MORE stuff to add.

i am donezo with college stuff, literally done with ALL of it. i thought this day would never come but i am here now and it is january and i am absolutely free and ecstatic!! that means i will start preparing to write chapter 4 of the ICONIC slytherpuff series :D and get started on other works as well.

however, i would like to address something important. i am going to copy and paste something that i put in that long google docs where i had written this fic and had the author’s note and everything. i pasted this a while ago (i wrote it a day after thanksgiving i think) from a chat with a friend bc i wanted to let yall see it (its like a life update mixed with a writing update thing):

“yesterday i stayed up until 4 am to do the tag list and it took me 4 hrs to do because i was trying to erase the people who wasn’t active or weren’t liking my fanfics because i usually put every follower on the tag list and it’s like 650 ppl but less than 250 liking the fanfics and it takes a lot of time to press each individual tag to choose who it is so i tried to do that but it was very annoying like i was using this website and it was not gucci for instance i put in all the names of the followers along w the names of ppl who liked every fanfic and it also included their name itself like mine is Jessica with that loki symbol urs is about george weasley i think so it was just messy and i had finally got it all to work when i combined two websites and used both of them but it was so frijcin annoying like at around 2 i thought i got an accurate list of ppl who were active but then i realized that some ppl weren’t on there like u or this other girl who likes many of the fanfics so i knew it was wrong but basically yea i stayed up late to do that stuff and then i was working on it this morning and i thought i would be posting it but then i thought of two new scenes and my mom wanted us to walk around the park but i said wait bc i wanted to finish and we ended up not going bc i took a nap at around 4 or soemthing bc i guess i was tired i felt very bad for delaying my family’s trip for the sake of the fanfic and i find myself always doing that like not going to eat dinner or hanging w my sister bc i need to write Anyways, when i woke up after staying up until 4 am, i talked to my sister and said that there was an imbalance of reblogs and likes and i’ve seen lots of posts talking about the importance of reblogs and when i was doing all of that yesterday like making the tag list, i noticed a constant number of reblogs among the fanfics it was usually around 20 while the likes were in the 200s and i was telling my sis about that and i was upset bc reblogs are important and it’s the least that ppl could do bc i’m writing all of that stuff and reblogs help push up the algorithm. however she said that at the end of the day, the reblogs will remain constant because i can’t force anyone to reblog. they’ll only reblog if they rlly like it and they don’t care enough to reblog and that hurt but she was right; she said she understands because she’s in a publishing company rn and so she understands why ppl wouldn’t reblog bc in publishing, they choose which books will become available to the public which is kinda like how ppl choose to reblog what they want to anways she told me “it sounds like ur always doing stuff for them. it’s always them then them, never you. YOU stayed up until 4 am to do the tag list, they didn’t ask for that, but u did. you’re the one doing all this stuff and it’s always for them, not for u. this is UR writing, so u should just do it for urself bc if u only write for them, then it’s just no good because you need to love writing to be able to keep doing it” and she was absolutely right. if i keep thinking about what other people think and what other ppl need instead of thinking of myself, it would not be good. i should be allowing myself to rest and actually enjoy writing instead of forcing myself to so i was thinking about all of that before i took the nap and by that time i was just exhausted because i spent most of the day working on the fanfic and i was like wow jessica ur spending ANOTHER day on this?? and i had been working on this fight scene with swords and i was doing the most, like watching videos of ppl fighting, reading articles about techniques, etc. i just got sad bc i was like there u go again, not caring about urself and just putting all ur energy into making other people happy while ignoring ur own needs and so i closed the computer and laid down and i cried a little because i was like no one even cares about you so why are u putting so much effort into making them happy?? and then i thought about getting back up and letting you and giselle know that i’m probably gonna post the fanfic tomorrow but then i felt rlly anxious because i wanted to say “sorry!! posting it tomorrow” and i got angry at myself because i was doing it again, it was as if i owe it to everyone that i must post the fanfic. i realized i don’t need to be apologetic or explain myself because i’m still gonna be posting the fanfic, but i’m gonna do it on my own time so that i’m not forcing myself to get things done and so i talked to my sister again after i woke up and i said that i read this post once about how writing fan fiction shouldn’t only be about the likes and reblogs bc if i’m doing everything for everyone else, then i’m probably not enjoying it because i’m just doing it for them, not myself. i realized that i should write because i love writing itself so i decided that i’m gonna write whenever i went and go at a good pace for myself instead of making monthly fanfics, though i’m sure i will still post monthly because every month i get a burst of energy to write and also fuxk that dumbass tag list i’m not gonna do it again only tagging the people who actually asked so this i will learn to love writing more so that i can continue writing in the future”

i have changed greatly and i am different from how i was in november. i know this because i remembered that on thanksgiving, i was primarily focused on writing the fic instead of spending time with family. on christmas (a few days ago), i had wanted to finish writing by that time to post for the holiday but i realized i would not be able to post it in time. instead of working on the fic on christmas to get it done, i decided to put it aside and be with my family and friends--and i am very glad and proud of myself for doing that! as a person who is very empathic and is always very wrapped up with giving and receiving love from others, i find myself putting others before myself, which is not healthy. i am learning to take a step back and see the bigger picture: this is my blog, and for a while it felt like it was controlling me but in reality i was just forcing myself to do stuff that i didnt wanna do but i did it for the sake of other people. this is demonstrated in my desire to write during holidays so that readers will be happy instead of just relaxing and doing stuff that i actually wanna be doing like being w my fam. dont get me wrong, i do like writing! however, these tendencies to just write and write and write get extreme sometimes. but on christmas, i had a very wonderful time and have learned a lot about myself and loving myself and putting my own wellbeing first and just being chill with tumblr and this blog.

i am done with college stuff, which means that i have less stress and worries. originally, i planned to use this time to write and produce works and go on a binge in which i just keep writing. however, i have decided that i am just gonna connect with my inner soul and being, and write when i want to. i usually post fanfics monthlybecause thats just how i work, so perhaps that will stay the same bc thats just how it is, OR maybe ill write even quicker and post more frequently. maybe ill just come and go. the moral of the story is that im doing me and im focusing on myself and thinking about what i want instead of trying to appease people all the time. in other words, i write when i want to!

also, as some of you know, i am no longer doing incorrect quotes, which made up majority of my blog. basically i realized a couple of days ago that most of my followers probably come from the incorrect quotes. i got followers every day from those because they are easy and quick to produce, which helps me gain a big following. i decided to stop doing those posts all together bc i just want my blog to be one thing only, not fanfics AND incorrect quotes. the fact that the majority of people came to my blog for the incorrect quotes means that my fanfic attention has an indirect relationship to the incorrect quotes, so theres more attention going to those posts instead of the stories. if i just post fanfics from now on, i get less follower notifications everyday but thats ok bc when i just start posting fanfics, i will get a steady stream of followers from that and more people will be here for the fanfics instead of the incorrect quotes. i remember when i tagged 500 ppl for one of my stories and less than 200 interacted. i shouldnt have done that bc most of them were probably there for the incorrect quotes and some are bots or inactive, ofc. the tag list that i have now was generated from websites so theyre compiled of people who have interacted with ym stories at least twice so that i know theyre constant readers.

OH WAIT ACTUALLY YES LETS TALK ABOUT YOU GUYS!

happy new years, first of all! its 12:53 am rn but im not that tired. that terrible night (mentioned in those texts that i sent to my friend that u read from above), when i was trying to make a better taglist instead of just tagging all my followers, i noticed a repetition of some people’s usernames, which means that they interact a lot with my fanfics and i would like to give shout-outs and stuff.

wait, before i do, i also wanna add a THANK YOU<3 to all those people who tagged me in those “happy new year, tag people who made 2020 gucci for u.” even tho i dont respond to those sometimes, i want you all to know that i see them!!! I DO! and i wanna say thank you so very much, it means a lot to me and i appreciate you sosososos much! theres a person who tagged me recently, i forgot their username but it started with “winter” and i think their pfp was a orange fox? so if ur reading this rn and think this is u, it probably is and i wanna say thank u and i love u and ur lovely!!!! OH WAIT HI OK I SAW THE USERNAME, ITS @writtenfoxscreams , THANK U!!!

ok, back to the thanks, here we go:

@luciferswife16 i love our mutual love for loki and i love ur asks, ur a very kind and amazing person and i like ur energy and ur so very wonderful and amazing

@walkinganomaly i like u, ur nice and sweet and lvoely and i wanna hug u

@mossy-axolotl AAAAAAA DUDE i searched up ur username but forgot it so i legit scrolled through all my posts to find an ask u sent to see ur username and i finally found it and i did all that bc i will never forget ur first ask in which u were sosososoo nice and i rlly didnt expect it bc no one was sending asks for a while and you were a sudden burst of fresh energy and I LOVE YOU DUDE.

@eatacrackerandstop goodness gracious giselle i could type up a whole ass paragraph about you. you are one of my closest, if not one of the two top tippity top closest online friends ever and i legit can NOT express enough appreciation for you. thank you for being u, u are such an amazing person and u would probably drown in all my love and hearts. i am thankful for the smallest things, like how when you tag me in those ask challenge post thingies, you write my username first and thats legit so small and maybe im a little crazy for noticing that. its a small detail, yet i am so grateful and crying over that???? im not actually crying, but i would give u a big big BIG hug if i could <3 LOVE U LOTS! (inside joke hafudnsajdc do u get it gorl) oh wait also imma just mention, i would’ve put ur username first in my list of “THANK YOU”s but i was looking at my tag list and going through all the names from top to bottom so thats why i did not talk about u first and its kinda mean how i was liek THANK U FOR PUTTING ME FIRST but i ddint do the same for u. when i was writing stuff for mossy, i was like hmm why am i feeling a swell of appreciation, how about i direct the full force of it on GISELLE and it fired up and i was like hohoohohoho oh my gosh lemme write a BOOK about her and my happiness for our lovely friendship ok ok this is getting long ok bye

@nevilletheplantboi girl u already know i love u dude we became close SO fast and i am not surprised because we are queens and we know this. since it is ur birthday coming up, i will not write as much of a paragraph as i want to rn bc i am saving all that love and energy into another time (aka writing a page for ur birthday lmaoaoa) ok just know i adore u gorl

@autumnleaves hi, i wanted to say thank u for congratulating me on my college post thing, i didnt forget it but didnt reply bc i was doing stuff and i forgot to reply but i remembered now and THABNK TOU I LOVE U THAT WAS SO NICE!!

@trashpannda @x-whatsupdoc-x @another-witch @justanxiousme THANK U FOR UR SUPPORT, I NOTICED U FREQUENTLY DURING MY CREATION OF THE NEW TAG LIST AND I FUCKING LOVE U GUYS OH MY FRICKIN GOD

@pond-waterr yess omg ur a big one! when i failed at creating a tag list and knew that it was a faulty one bc there were some people who i KNEW interacted a lot with my fanfics but their usernames didnt appear on the list, U WERE ONE OF THEM!! I LOVE YOU!!! THANK YOU :D

@qixnsriess ur amazing, thank u very very much, ur special and i hope u have a great day

ok there are definitely more people who have interacted me, and i apologize if i did not mention u. just know that on that day when i was making the tag list, i repeatedly saw ur username and thought in my cloud of sleepy despair bc i worked on it until 4 am and was practically breaking down bc i was frustrated and didnt understand how to make a good taglist, “gosh i love them, i am very appreciative”. LOVE U!

this is goodbye for now!! let me know what you thought of the story, i soak in the feedback like its juice. that doesnt even make sense. its 1:15 am. i have stuff to do like update my masterlist. TOODELEOODOE

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