#ath au

[magicicephoenix]

(the nickname Squeaky did, in fact, stick)

Toony and ASHTE!Bendy being a duo because they’re my AUs and i said so. Bendy has a… prickly personality but Toony can soften just about anyone’s heart :)

bonus:

[asherthehimbo]

Guardians

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synopsis: when Yeosangs sickness worsens, the Hala-pack are forced to stay in unkown territory, all because their wolves had affections for the towns local doctor. They hope this doctor knows how to treat fish because Yeosang needs help, and his brothers are desperate.

word count: 8.3k (and 4 pictures)

warnings: Cursing, blood, knives(daggers), treating of wounds, treating of sickness, talks of death, screaming, possesive behavior kind of?, blood (obv cause wounds), suggestive thoughts (Mingi needs to FOCUS), mentions of torn snouts, old scars, uhm i think thast it?

notes: to those who don't know what a poet shirt is this is the specific shirt I'm referencing, Also PLEASE read the section named 'Guardians knowledge' for better understanding of refrences in the book itself before reading this chapter thank youuu (Guardians book of knowledge was DEFINITELY inspired by the books in the 'Grimm' series so anybody who watches that HIIIIII), also PLEASE remember to read the Creature lore to understand some things as this IS a fantasy book with my own lore for some creatures thank youuuu

Placing the clear, blue rimmed glass down on the placement cloth in front of you, you throw the drying cloth in your hands on your shoulder. Long white hair tied up lazily at the back of your head, white poet shirt hanging off your shoulders, its strings by your chest having been loosened the moment you bid farewell to your last patron for the night.  Your necklace consisting of a dull orange fire stone remains barely concealed beneath your white shirt, its chain placed comfortingly around your neck. The angle your shirt is sitting may expose more of your chest than you would usually feel comfortable with showing in public, but currently it's only you and the Choi’s at the tavern.

‘Moon Tavern’ - the tavern you own- is open 24/7 on weekends, but closes at 11 pm on weeknights, for you have to ensure those on your side of the land, those in your village are ready the next morning for their duties. Unfortunately for your regulars it's a Thursday night, meaning closing time. Meaning cleaning up duty for you and those on your shift. You turn your head and scan around you, looking down both sides of the bar counter to ensure no glasses or coasters are left laying around before your eyes trail to the middle of the tavern where the Choi’s sit waiting for you. 

Choi Beomgyu, a young man of 22 who you met when he was only 17, being banished to Obsidian, due to his seeing abilities, when the war came to an end, he became your second ever apprentice. Next to him sits Choi Yeonjun at the age of 24, a snake shifter who followed his friend all the way from their homeland and ended up right in your welcoming embrace. 

They both work as waiters at the tavern, sometimes even performing with the band, always insisting on helping you close when you man the bar on night shifts- but never doing the same for your co-owner, you know the reason but pay it no mind. 

Cracking your neck before stretching your hands above your head, your back curls in as your chest pushes out, causing the strings of your shirt to loosen even more. Beomgyu wolf-whistles from where he sits as Yeonjun starts chastising you for your actions. “I've told you so many times that that's not healthy Boss, if you’re having pain problems again you need to let Niki or Gyu look at you.” Yeonjun looks at you with a mock scolding gaze.

You scoff, finishing your stretch before looking at the boy- not man, boy because compared to someone of your age that is what he is, a boy, one of your boys. “And I've told you many times not to call me Boss, guess neither of us listen to the other'' you bite back before removing the cloth from your shoulder, placing it on the drying pole attached to the bottom of the bar counter on your end.

“Touche” Yeonjun replies as both he and Beomgyu stand up while you walk out from behind the bar, picking up your jacket and keys that was on the counter, the three of you start walking to the front door as you turn off all the lanterns you walk by, “well, I, for one, was delighted by the show given- so I humbly thank you” Beomgyu gives an over dramatic bow as he speaks, causing Yeonjun to roll his eyes and your lips to quirk up ever so slightly.

The three of you walk until you're outside the tavern, you make sure to lock it before you continue walking, there's a cold breeze tonight, almost calming as it nips at the parts of your exposed skin, the boys behind you shiver and snuggle more into their own jackets as they walk, one on each side of you, you on the other hand do not falter in your steps. Despite your love of warmth you've grown quite accustomed to the cold nights that seem to accompany the dark sky of Obsidian.

You reach the part in your path where you and the boys should split, while they live more to the center of the town, in a neighborhood along with the rest of your pack, your home is located on the outskirts next to the river that separates your land between its two regions. You turn to say goodbye but catch Beomgyu staring at you in a worried manner, his eyes glowing a faint- barely noticeable purple “The water will shine a luminous blue tonight as nature’s soldier will be hurt, and the singers rock will form” you tilt your head inquisitively but when he doesn't say anything else you leave it be. 

Seers cannot control the amount of information they are given and Beomgyu would've told you if there was something else. You nod your head in understanding before placing your hand on his shoulder, you look down at him and smile in a reassuring way, “I’ll be safe, don’t worry my little videns “ Beomgyu’s head tilts to rest on your hand at your words.

“I don’t know if I’m fine with letting you walk home alone now..” Yeonjun looks like he’s contemplating following you as he bites the inside of his cheek but you quickly shut him down, “Jun, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself, you two need to get home, you have a shift tomorrow morning”. Yeonjun huffs “Yeah with Tea-moo, I don’t think either of us really mind being late for that one” he rolls his eyes as his arms are crossed over his chest, pouting like a child. “He’s still your leader Jun, you should respect him” you scold the boy, knowing your words won't have any impact now as they hadn't before, not on this topic. 

“You’re our leader Boss, he’s the guy who you let be the leader and we both know it.” Yeonjun’s distaste for Tea-moo was never a secret, it caused a lot of tension in your pack, but neither he nor Tea-moo made an effort to fix the strain. “Jun I’m not having this conversation again.” you reply sternly, “I’m going home, you two need to do the same. Niki is probably waiting for you and I don’t want him staying up too late we have lessons tomorrow”

Niki, your first apprentice, your little shadow dragon, your son. He lives with you most of the time but often spends nights over at the Choi’s, the three of them act like brothers and it comforts your heart to know they have each other. You’re currently busy teaching Niki everything you know as the boy wants to follow in your footsteps, become a healer and not a destroyer as shadow dragons are often depicted.

“Fine, but if anything feels wrong even in the slightest the you scream, alright” Yeonjun needs that reassurance at least. “I doubt something to that extent will happen Jun”, you don’t want to promise him you would, because a banshee’s scream is a deafening one, it’s not something to be used lightly and something you've only used a handful of times. “Promise me” he does not relent.

“If it gets to that extent, I will scream to alert you.” You nod to him and his tense shoulders seem to relax a little. As Beomgyu lifts his head from your hand on his shoulder both of them come closer to hug you as a goodbye. You hate lying, but you know you won't scream, to resort to such measures is simply not something you're capable of doing. You’ve only used your scream once in your life, and you dread something of the like happening again.

You watch as they walk the opposite direction, walking as one, two halves of a whole. A feeling of contentment stirs in you, despite whatever Beomgyu’s vision foretold you know they’ll be safe, and that's all you could ask for.

“No”, Mingi’s voice is firm, almost angry sounding as his jaw clenches in an effort to not yell at the others in the room. “I told you all, he’s mine-'' his words are interrupted with Yunho’s introjection of "ours” ‘-He’s ours, I’m not bringing you guys to him.” Mingi finishes.

He’s standing with his back leaning against the wall, everyone is gathered in the kitchen, most sitting, except for Yunho- who's standing right next to Mingi- and San who's standing behind Wooyoung. “Mingi, Yeosang is sick, he needs help and it’s something nobody here knows how to deal with. We can’t travel with him in this condition so we are stuck on this island- one that isn't our territory. You say this guy is a doctor, he might know how to help. San’s knowledge of herbs can only get us so far.” Hongjoongs voice is calm as he tries to reason with Mingi, but you can hear the sharp edge of authority it holds as he sits at the head of the table. 

“A human doctor, yes, how do we know he’ll be able to help Yeosang?” Yunho’s voice isn’t as strained with anger as Mingi’s, but you can hear his hesitance. ”He lives in a region known for harboring two of the most regal packs, I’m quite sure he’s probably aware of our species, may have even encountered many, he may know at least something that could help us, or point us in the direction of someone who could.” Seonghwa says as he sits beside Hongjoong, his voice flows calm, a sharp contrast to their leaders iciness’ Seonghwas reflects the warmth that’s permanently buried in his chest, but everyone can tell he’s  just as worried about Yeosang. 

Yunho’s stomach churns at the idea of you having met, let alone interacted with other supernatural creatures as Mingi lets out a low grumble in discontempt. “Listen, I know you guys have some weird possession kink or something over this guy, but Yeosang needs help. Do you really want him to die simply because you couldn't control your jealousy for a few hours?” Jongho asks, annoyed and his words cut deep.

Yunho turns to Mingi, while Yunho may be hesitant he doesn't want Yeosang to die. But Mingi has known you longer, there's a sort of seniority there, Yunho knows how much you mean to Mingi. Fuck you mean just as much to him, but he knows how Mingi’s mind works, he knows he’s not the one that gets to make this decision. Mingi in turn is stone faced, but Yunho can tell he’s conflicted. “Just for a check up? Nothing more?” Mingi asks, voice seeking confirmation in the same vulnerable way a child would from a parent, and the whole room takes a breath of relief. 

“Only a check up, we only want to know if he can figure out what’s going on with Yeosang” Hongjoong confirms. After a moment of silence, and another shared look with Yunho, Mingi speaks again “Fine, but you let me and Yunho go in first, explain to him the situation. He doesn't know about us, about this, I want to explain to him first, I need to. Need to have him hear it from me”

The others all nod in agreement as they move to get ready to take Yeosang to your place. Mingi can’t help the anxiety building within him, he doesn't know what he’d do if you hate him after this. Even worse if you’re scared of him after this. He doesnt think he could go on living if you were. He hates the idea, the thought of losing you, loathes it even.

Mingi walks into the room where Yeosang lays on the bed, his skin sickly pale, unnatural and different from the usual light tan the siren has. His lips are chapped and parts of his skin are molting, eye’s closed as he’s barely breathing. San is holding a cold water cloth to his forehead in an effort to try and cool down the sirens fever. Jongho sits at the other side of the bed, he’s taken Yeosang’s sickness the hardest besides Wooyoung and San, solidarity in species and all. Mingi looks at Wooyoung who's standing a bit away, Wooyoung's scared to get too close to his friend, scared his natural heat will only worsen Yeosong’s temperature. It must hurt, not being able to be there for  his best friend, and Mingi feels guilt at his apprehension on letting you treat Yeosang, after all that means he’s the one separating these two.

He stands next to Yunho, sharing a look before starting to walk again as he makes his way to the front door, Yunho following. The breeze of the night hit him as the sky began to dusk. The moon is shining brightly, almost as if illuminating the path to your house and Yunho can’t help but think it might be an omen, whether it’s a good or bad one is still undecided.

You walk to your backdoor as you hear knocking. You know it's Mingi and Yunho, they’re the only ones that would use that entrance, only ones that would knock too. What worries you is the fact that the knocking seems frantic and you could sense multiple other life forces as well, although they’re a little farther from the entrance of your house than the wolves. 

You open the door as you look at the two, it’s unusual that they’re here tonight, they don’t usually come over on weeknights, so the fact that they’re at your front door, looking quite nervous on a Thursday concerns you. “Oh? To what do I owe the visit?” You ask the two as you step aside to let them in, the other life forces don’t move and so you leave them alone. 

Mingi and Yunho both step inside, Yunho looking more nervous as Mingi is more conflicted. “We uhm- we have to talk” Mingi says, fiddling with the bandages on his fingers as he walks into your house a bit more, before leaning on the countertop in the corner. Yunho stays by the door but moves to the side a bit so that he’s not blocking it. “We need your help..” 

His words peak your interest, the two never share a lot about their current private affairs and you respect that. Understanding that not every creature wishes to be known, especially if they’re of the rarer types like you know these two are, so them standing before you now asking this question is quite strange. “Oh? What can I help with?” You walk into your home, decidedly leaving the door open. 

“Okay so uhm- I’m not sure if you know. Wait what do you know- wait no wait oka-” Mingi’s nervous rambling is cut off by Yunho who looks you dead in the eye, unlike Mingi whose eyes are drilling holes in the floor. “Do you believe in the supernatural?” Yunho’s voice is firm and not as soft as you’re used to. “The supernatural? yeah, why?” You say nonchalantly, thinking of all the ways the direction this conversation can go. Would they confess their true nature? Yunho scratches the back of his neck as he takes a deep breath before speaking “So uhm if we were to say, to tell you uhm we-” his words are interrupted by a loud scream from outside, all three of your heads turning the direction of the scream.

The scream was guttural sounding, desperate and dry as you stand closest to the doorway you can see body’s panicking as they rush out of the bushes, laying another body down on the ground, you can’t see much of what's happening because of the distance but you can that Yunho and Mingi are worried, body’s tense. “I'm guessing that’s why you asked? about the supernatural?” You speak and your voice is steady in an effort to give some comfort, you walk a bit more into your kitchen before reaching a door on the side and opening it. “Tell them to bring him in- only you and one other can come with him- I don’t need this many unknown people in my house.”  You say before walking down the stairs of the door you’ve opened. Turning the lights on down the way.

As your back is turned to them you can't see the bafflement on their faces as they freeze at your seeming nonchalant demeanor before rushing out to the rest of their packmates. You walk down into your apothecary room as you turn on the lights and clear your table, you don’t know what you’ll be dealing with, so for now all you do is roll up your sleeves and tie your hair. You hear the footsteps of three males come down the stairs. Mingi and Yunho reach your sight first before you see the two behind them, a shorter blond carrying a platinum blond man.

“[M/n] how-” Mingi’s words are cut off by your own “Put him down on the table” you instruct the blond and he does so with hesitance. “What's your name?” you ask again as you start inspecting the man laying down on your table, “San.” he responds as you remove the man on your table’s shirt, “Okay San, tell me about your friend here- he’s a Siren right?” you ask. “Yeah, wait [M/n] how do you-” Mingi responds instead but you completely ignore him. “Fresh or saltwater?” you ask already knowing the answer, eye’s directed at San. “Fresh water” San responds, “What are you doing- why are you taking off his shirt?” he asks, confusion sounding like anger. “Because I'm gonna need you to smear ointment on his chest- lest you want him to stop breathing” you say as you turn to try and reach for a jar of ointment in the cabinet behind you. Although San is quick to stop you as he grabs the wrist of the hand you had rested on the siren's chest to check his heartbeat.

“Listen I don’t know who you are, but you need to tell me what the fuck-AH!” San’s words are stopped by a sharp wince as he suddenly lets go of your wrist, clutching his arm as he looks at the back of his shoulder. Behind him in the doorway you see your best friend standing with her arm outstretched as she’s just thrown a knife into his shoulder blade.“You wolves couldn't act fast enough to stop your little friend here from grabbing [M/n]?” Lisa asks as she walks over. San tries to pull out the knife but you quickly stop him, “Don’t do that, that knife’s specifically designed to hurt anyone except for Lisa. Mingi go get another one of your friends to help San” you say and Mingi complies, despite the unease in his eyes and the questions you can feel lingering on his lips, he walks back out the room. “San you sit down on that chair over there” you point to a chair in the corner of the room “Lisa help him” she clicks her tongue before looking at you as if asking why “You’re the only one that can touch the knife, you know where the ointment is, Yunho help her I don’t think San would be to keen on letting her touch him” you order and Yunho nods, his mouth closed and it seems even he hasn’t processed whats been happening. 

Mingi comes down with another male behind him, this one with short dark hair, “Fire elemental yeah? What’s your name?” you ask him as you get out jars of paste from your cabinets. “Uhm uh yeah Wooyoung what’s going on with San” his eyes instinctively flicker to his friend and you can see the panic in his eyes, “hey don't focus on him, focus on me I need your help with your friend.” Wooyoung's head snaps between the two of his friends before he sees San nod at him and he walks up to the table as you hand him a jar. “Here, smear this into his chest” you say as you start inspecting the siren on your table. “When was the last time he swam- in fresh water specifically” You ask Wooyoung. “Uhm I'm not sure? A few months ago maybe? He and Jongho- a saltwater siren, swam in the Night sea before we came here but he hasn’t been in the water since and then he got sick so we don’t know what to do” Wooyoung's words flow out a mile a minute as he starts rubbing the clear ointment on Yeosangs chest. 

“Tell me what you’re doing to him” San speaks from the corner of the room between pained hisses. “Okay you see this?” you point to the open gills of the Siren before you, “Usually sirens' gills only form when they’re underwater, his gills being open, basically gasping for air means he cant breath. Freshwater Sirens are much more sensitive than saltwater ones, they need more water intake and too much salt water can also dry out their skin. I've seen it before one or two times in my lifetime, he’s dehydrated, see how he’s molting and his chapped lips?” Wooyoung's nod’s. “So you know how to help him then?” San asks as he’s being wrapped in a bandage by Yunho, Lisa now standing in the other corner of the room as she cleans her dagger. 

“Yeah, yeah I know how, Lisa, would you get me the towels please?” you respond as you wrap your hands around Yeosangs neck, covering his gills as Lisa walks up the stairs of the room into your home. Seeing your actions, San tries to storm up from his chair but is held back by Yunho as Mingi’s voice aggressively tells him to sit.”What are you doing?! You just said his gills are how he breathes?! Wooyoung stop him!” San shouts as he’s struggling against Yunho's hold, Wooyoung tries to reach for your hands but is yanked back by Mingi “I told you not to touch him” his voice is borderline possessive but you can't bring yourself to focus on that now. “The ointment Wooyoung rubbed on his chest helped open up his lungs, I'm closing his gills to ensure he'll breathe out of his mouth.” you say and before they can respond the siren lets out a gasp as his breathing becomes a bit more stable, now from his mouth and nose.

“Alright I have to take him out to the water, you can follow but don’t interrupt okay?” You look at the four men in front of you, three nod as San stays silent. You pick Yeosang up bridal-style and Mingi lets out a noise of protest but stays mostly silent. You walk up the stairs careful not to move the siren in your hold too much. As you walk out of your home and feel the cold breeze hit you for the second time that night, the siren in your hold wines at the temperature drop. You nod your head in acknowledgement at the three other males standing outside, looking worried to all hell, as you continue walking to the stream that flows outside your house only a few miles away.

You feel the seven men following you, some fussing over San as they walk, Mingi and Yunho leading them, Lisa follows with towels in hand. As you reach the edge of the stream you look back at the men, “Don’t interrupt yeah? You might not understand what's happening but interfering will only hurt him” you look back at the water. The men behind you all seem apprehensive but comply to your orders, San only because he’s still being held back by Yunho. The clearing is deathly silent as you start walking into the river, despite the cold of the water you don’t flinch. 

As you work and the others watch you, Hongjoongs turns to Mingi, “I thought you said he was human?” he whispers slightly, “I thought he was” Mingi responds, mouth almost agape in awe at your actions. “Then why does his right eye look like that of a banshee? Don't tell me you didn't realize” Hongjoong whispers again, this time Mingi is silent as he hears his leader's revelation. He’s always been curious about your white eye, the intricate markings almost like shattered glass, sometimes even wondering if you were blind in it, but he’d never had the gall to ask.

You let out a whistle as you stand in the water. It reaches your chest as you hold Yeosang, letting him practically float in the freshwater, his whole body, except for his face covered by the usual clear stream that's now blurred by the night's darkness. “Amphitrite, darling I need your help” you call out softly, in the same voice you’d speak to Mingi in when he fell asleep on your shoulder, the voice you'd speak to Yunho in when he came to you teary eyed and in need of comfort. A moment of confusion passes before the water starts swirling around you. The hair you’ve loosely tied has now fallen, cascading down your shoulders like a waterfall as the ends drift in the river. The water around you and the siren starts turning a bright blue, almost blinding. Once again San tries to lurch forward but is held back by Hongjoong, “He said not to interrupt” the leader states, despite his own confusion he is smart enough to know not to mess with the trails of a Banshee. 

From the side of the river, the side filled with forest trees so dark the others can’t see past the line that separates the land they currently stand on with the territory named Forest night, emerges a  large horse. Not a normal one. The horse seems sickly, almost dark and boney, barely a horse at all as its seaweed-like mane sways lightly in the wind, dripping wet despite the fact that the horse has just come out of the dry forest. The horse- the kelpie’s soulless eyes stare into the 7 men standing on the other side of the river. The way it’s flesh is ripped from the sides of its snout revealing it’s horrific teeth is a picture painted from nightmares of the sickests minds. Its bones crack with every step and the dark shadows around it lash out as whispers follow.

It steps into the water and the liquid seems to be drawn to it. The water crawls up its legs and takes its form, molding with the bloody bones and dark shadows so well, to the point that if you didn’t look too closely the horse would seem normal, beautiful even. No ripped flesh or greasy hair, no teeth are shown from its snout  because its skin has no tear. The kelpie is big and dark, looking like a noble steed fit for a true royal, yet it walks over to you so slow and soft that it's clear where its loyalties lie. The kelpie goes silent, no whisper or lashing of shadows as it bows to you. The animal who is known to bring death to many sends a horrid thought through San’s mind. They had just given Yeosang, to the nightmarish stallion, on a silver platter. Instead of the creature luring Yeosang to death, it was his own pack who handed him to the ominous shadows of death looming above the glowing river of life. 

You reach out a hand to pet its snout, “Amphritre darling, could you help this young siren for me?” you ask softly, stroking the kelpie, it seems to look down for a moment, makes a noise of dismay before you speak again, “Please?” you ask, removing your hand from its snout and gripping your necklace, the kelpie looks at the stone in your hand and relaxes as you reach back up to pet it once more. 

It retracts its snout from your hold before looking down at Yeosang, sniffing his hair slightly before bringing a hoof out of the water, time seems to slow down as the horse slaps its hoof down on Yeosangs chest before it dissolves into the water, as if it was never there. Its former dark hair and pale bones now blending in with the bubbling waters as Yeosang gasps again, his body lurching forward as his eyes fly open. He coughs up water as you gently rub his back, your other arm. still supporting him as he’s basically sitting on it.  “It’s okay, It’s okay” you whisper softly, unaware of how both Mingi and Yunho’s eyes are locked on you. 

The way your hair reflects the moonlight, glowing bright as it drifts on the water behind your back, the way your white shirt- now wet and clear sticks to your skin, the way your voice dips low as you whisper to Yeosang, despite it being barely audible to those standing on the ground, it sends shivers down their spine. Makes Mingi’s stomach churn with heat and Yunho’s chest rumble with jealousy. Everyone else is focusing on the now conscious Yeosang, but they’re focusing on you.

As Yeosang’s coughing fit stops he looks up at you, eyes lidded and foggy and then he gives you a lazy smile, “My pearl, I’ve found you, my pearl, my pearl”  Yeosang chant’s out softly like a mantra, his hand reaches for your cheek and just before he could place it on your skin, you tap his forehead, causing him to drop back down, now in a deep sleep as he practically snuggles into your hold. Your breath hitches at his words and your eyes lock with Hongjoong and Seonghwa, whose own had widened significantly, but you try not to react too much as you look down for a moment to ensure he’s sleeping before you start to step out as the water around you calms down, going back to its original dark state, only light being from the reflection of the moon.

“What- how-” Mingi’s splutters of confusion are ignored as the salt water siren rushes forward, frantically looking Yeosang up and down, trying to take him from your hold. The siren in your arms, despite his sleepy state, refuses as he makes a noise of protest. You nod your head at Lisa as she hands you a towel before handing another to the saltwater siren. “What’s your name, little one?” she asks him gently, her voice not even close to the malicious tone she had held earlier when speaking to San, “Jongho” the saltwater Siren states. “Alright Jongho, you’re gonna need to help me transfer your friend here from [M/n]’s arms. Can you sit down for me? Hold your hands open with the towel, be ready to take him” she instructs gently, Jongho does as told, you follow shortly after, sitting down on your knees, the action causing your wet pants to flex against your thighs, which immediately draw’s Yunho’s attention.

“What’s this one's name?” you ask Jongho softly, referring to the man in your arms, “Yeosang” the shifter that stands beside Mingi speaks. He seems regal in a sense, and you can sense a connection of sorts to him… he must be a creature that inhabits water, you hum in acknowledgment at his answer before looking down at the boy in your arms. “Alright Yeosang can you hear me?” You speak, gently using one of your hands that's not holding him against you to move the wet hair out of his face, the siren makes a noise of acknowledgement but doesn't open his eyes. “I'm going to need you to let go of me okay? We need to dry you off lest you get sick” you utter and your voice flows over the clearing, despite your gentle tone, the low rumble of your words seems to keep everyone around you quiet. The siren makes another noise of disagreement and you can sense the starting agitation of the wolves standing a bit to your right.

“Come on, if you do this for me I’ll be here when you wake up okay? Just go into the arms of your brother." Finally Yeosang complies at your words as he relaxes the arms that were wrapped around your neck, you hand him to Jongho who instantly wraps him in the blanket and gently tries to dry him as Wooyoung and San flock to his side. You stand up and start gently drying yourself, Lisa helping you with your long hair as you look at the others. “You need to get him home for now, the water may have helped him but the measures i've used will ensure he’ll be very cold, I’d suggest keeping Wooyoung close to him to warm him up, I’m not sure how long you guys will be here, so he can come swim in the river if he feels his hydration levels get too low, just let me know first.” You speak to the group, mostly the two reptilian shifters given they seem to hold the most authority among the group.

“Wait- what how did you-” Mingi walks closer as he starts questioning what just happened, despite his confusion and search for answers his eyes are stuck on your chest as your shirt sticks to it and the necklace he’s never seen you without dangles from your neck. “Isn't it obvious? Thought those two would have figured it out already” you nod to the two shifters again before pointing to your eye, the one that's white and void, filled with little gray lines. “The eye’s of a Banshee.” The shorter one states, “Although I haven't heard of one being alive in a while, the last known one was when the war ended.”  the white haired one follows.

“I like keeping quiet, nothing good comes of my kind being known. You must understand that” you say, voice monotone as the two nod. “I’m Kim Hongjoong, this is my right hand Park Seonghwa. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, we have heard quite a lot” Hongjoong says as he nods his head at you. “Thank you for saving Yeosang, truly we didn’t know what to do.” Seonghwa does the same as Hongjoong as he nods his head. 

“Hm, It’s no problem, although I must say not everyday the King of Aurora comes to my home.” You say as you look at Hongjoong, his face is stoic but you see the slight widening of his eyes that shows his shock. “What? You think just because we’re an isolated island that we don’t keep up with what happens in other regions?” you ask half sarcastically, Wooyoung who’s listening into the conversation makes a small shrug of “yeah”. You chuckle slightly and the sound is like music to Mingi and Yunho’s ears in this tense atmosphere. “I think you guys should go home yeah? He needs rest” you nod over to the sleeping Yeosang.

 Seonghwa steps forward for a moment, “He’ll ask about you, you know that right? Not everyday a  fresh water siren finds their pearl” you nod your head in understanding as you cross your arms, the others make faces of confusion but don't interrupt “Yes I understand that, but right now rest is more important to him.” You say and Hongjoong nods, “We do still need to talk” he motions for the others to start gathering around as his eyes are focused on you.

 “Hm, I guess I understand, a King worried about a man of his pack” you hum, not noticing the slight flinch as you refer to him as ‘King’, “There's a tavern a little bit into town, called Moonlight, I’ll meet you there tomorrow to talk, you can come anytime. Although not everyone can come, I'm not sure my pack would appreciate being ambushed by yours” Hongjoong nods at your words as he turns around to signal the rest to leave, but Mingi instantly lurches forward.

“Hey woah no I’m not leaving, since when were you a Banshee? Wait, no that's stupid, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn't you tell us?” There are tears lingering in his eyes as he asks you pleadingly, his pupils wide and glossy. He searches your face for an answer as his hands grip your arms desperately. “Why didn't you tell me you were wolves? Shifters from the Walkam bloodline no less” you don’t mean to seem as cold as you do, but your words send a chill down the wolves spine, one colder than the night sky you’re currently standing under.

“We were scared..” Yunho whispers as he moves closer to both you and Mingi. The others look at the scene unfolding before them and they feel as if they’ve invaded something they shouldn’t have, but they can’t look away. The way the moon is shining on you three is simply mesmerizing, as if she’s capturing the moment in her memory. “And so was I. You must know being a Banshee is not safe, for me nor for you. Some things are better kept unsaid.” You place a hand on each of their cheeks as their faces nuzzle into your skin, warm flushed against your cold hands. “But we weren’t- that's not what we were scared of I- '' Mingi's words are cut off by Lisa, who's standing with the others.

“Loverboy, I don’t think this is the place for your confession okay? Besides [Name] is tired, that ritual takes a lot out of him” she says as she shifts her weight to one hip, she seems a little annoyed to the others but you can see the bit of sympathy in her eyes. The scene seems almost familiar to her but she pushes the feeling away. Mingi turns his head to her and opens his mouth to protest but he’s stopped by you talking instead. “She’s right Mingi, you need to go home, Yeosang needs to rest, I need to rest.” You tell him softly. “But we have to talk” Yunho’s disheartened voice reaches your ears. “Tomorrow is Friday, right? We always meet on friday nights, why would tomorrow be any different? We can talk then, I'll give you all the answers I can then.” your thumb strokes his cheek gently before you retract your hands. Both wolves whine at the loss of your touch but they don't talk back at your words. They listen intently like worshipers would their deity.

“Promise?” they ask in unison, Mingi’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as Yunho’s does with hope. “When have I ever backed out of our Friday night meetings? Why would I skip the chance to see you now meae carissimae lupi” the familiar name rolls off your tongue in a language that makes Hongjoongs eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t comment on it, not in such a fragile atmosphere. Both Mingi and Yunho’s eyes flash with confusion yet fondness, you’ve never told them what the name meant, but they both hold the familiarity of the way your voice vibrates when you refer to them with it dear. “Now I believe you need to help get your brother home hm?” You nod your head to Yeosang who's still in Jongho’s arms. Yunho is the first to start retreating, but Mingi is hesitant to do the same, instead he sends one final glance to his pack. His eyes lock with Yunho, and then his gaze lingers on Yeosang for just a moment longer than a normal look should, before he hugs you, tightly. Not caring for the wetness of your clothes, or the coldness of your skin, he hugs you like his life depends on it, and were you any weaker it would have hurt.

 He rests his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent as if he’s engraving it in his memory. Your hand automatically rests itself on his head, gently scratching his scalp to try and soothe him from what you believe to be the feelings of his sick brother now crashing down on him. Unbeknownst to you, the action solidifies something, adds oxygen to his lungs, to the fire in his very being that's alight for you. 

“Mingi..” Hongjoong calls in warning as he sees Lisa’s gaze. Hongjoong doesn’t want to intrude longer than he already has, the suspicions he and Seonghwa currently hold make him weary of your company, despite the kind gesture you had just done for them. Mingi growls, it’s low, not like any sound they’ve ever heard from him, seems to reverberate from his chest like a demon roaring in a cave, and not that of a normal wolf. Although he lets go, and so no one pays it any mind, all of them having too much to process tonight already, Mingi’s more primal than usual rumble being the last of their worries. 

Mingi looks at your face as he lets go of you, leans in and kisses your nose as he cups your cheeks before he turns away and starts walking, not looking at any of his pack members. You stand in shock as you watch his retreating figure, feeling the tingle of his lips on your skin linger. Yunho spares you a glance of longing before going after Mingi, and the others hang around unsure whether they should stay or go.

 “[Name] will meet you at the tavern tomorrow, King. You all should go before I stick another knife in one of you”  Lisa says as she assesses the situation at hand, her eyes travel to San as he grits his teeth, shoulders tensing as he seemingly readies himself to jump at her, but he’s stopped by Wooyoung holding his arm. “Yeah we’ll go Ma’am, no need to dagger any of us” he tugs San to follow, the blond making a confused noise at Wooyoung's sudden honorifics for the female. Jongho whose feet have already begun moving the moment Lisa’s first sentence left her mouth.

Now the only people left in the clearing, it’s you, Lisa, Seonghwa and Hongjoong. “You speak the ancient language?” Seonghwa asks, “I was taught at a young age, just as you probably were, lost dragon of Twilight” Seonghwa’s breath hitches at your response, eyes widening as he immediately opens his mouth to respond, yet Hongjoong interrupts him, “Seonghwa, we will go.” Hongjoong who’s been analyzing both you and Lisa makes his decision final as he starts walking, Seonghwa quickly following his leader but still spluttering in confusion. His regal mask seemingly breaking the moment you showed an inkling of knowledge.

Once the two have passed the treeline and are out of your sight, you let out a breath of relief and Lisa immediately moves to your side to support you as your legs give in for a moment. She gives you a second to stabilize yourself before you both move back into your home, you immediately sit on a stool by your kitchen counter as she locks the door. Your head rests in your hands as you hear Lisa rustle around in your kitchen. “Drink”, she says, before placing a glass of water in front of you as she sits down herself.

 You take the glass and chug it as she starts speaking, “Tea-moo won’t like this you know” she plays with her dagger as she speaks, the tip of the blade chipping a hole into the paint of the counter top as she spins it under her finger. “Tea-moo has a wife to worry about, and stop it with the blade you’re going to ruin another counter top” you swat her hand playfully to stop her, she huffs and drops the dagger. “She won’t like this either” Lisa gives you a knowing look as she stands back up, now looking through your cupboards. “Just for different reasons” you sigh as she turns around, a jar of salve in her hands.

She walks over to you as you turn in your chair to face her, with her help you remove your shirt as she opens the jar, your muscle’s ache with the strain you’ve put on them tonight, clearly not having used your magic for a long time has an effect on you. Looking down you see the lightning-like scars that litter your torso and crawl all the way to your back. You're just lucky the transparency of your white shirt didn’t expose the usually light pink marks that litter your skin tonight, but now they’re glowing a faint blue. It’s not painful by any means, but still the reminder that it can be excruciating when not treated haunts you. You shake your head to distract yourself as Lisa starts lightly applying the balm along the lines of your healed wounds. It’s become a calming ritual for her, applying the salve on the long forgotten wounds that only re appear when you use your magic. It’s as if the light inside you tries to escape, and Lisa tries her hardest to keep it inside. Lest she fail again. Applying the salve to watch the marks almost completely disappear is the only thing that can help her rest easy after you've used magic such as what you used tonight.

“Vampires are territorial creatures, they are most like wolves in that way” she muses as she continues your previous conversation, “Don’t let them hear you say that” you try and lighten the mood, and under any other circumstance it would have worked. “Tea- moo hearing me compare him to a wolf is not my concern. My concern; is him finding out his previous imprinted- and his wife's savior has been claimed by a Siren- a prince of Dune no less” Lisa’s gaze flickers to the orange stone hung around your neck before she  looks at you, you sigh and rub your eyes, already feeling the headache forming, “and why is that your concern?” you voice the question yet already know the answer. 

“That nation abandoned you, who's to say their prince wont do the same?” she slams the lid back on the jar of salve before she moves to put it away while you put on your shirt again. “What happened then had nothing to do with him Lisa, you know that. He does not know who I am and does not know I know who he is. Besides, I do not plan on reciprocating his bond. I've had enough dealing with Dune’s sirens to last me all my lifetimes.” you bring your necklace out from under your shirt as Lisa walks back to you, she takes the stone in her hand gently as it glows in response to her touch, you let her. 

She lets it drop back to your chest with a gentle jingle of the chain, “And the wolves? You’ve been awfully close to them this last year, and while the others may have been fine with it- having seen them tonight? Having heard the rumble in the angry one’s-""Mingi’s” you interrupt her,”Mingi’s chest” she nods her head, “that's something way more than just adoration for you…” she says, and this time you can’t reassure her in your hesitance to pursue anything like you could with the siren.

She nods her head in understanding, “Just be careful hm?” she pats your chest, “dealing with one supernatural bond is hard enough, having the prospect of three? It might not bode well with the others” You nod your head at her words because you know it’s true, but you can’t bring yourself to deny anything.

Because the last few months, this last year spent with Mingi and Yunho have brought back to you what you thought had been extinguished forever, but you’re scared of accepting the reality of what that means. Accepting reality means accepting them, and you fear you'll drown their fire if you do, just like you did before.

“Do you think it’s stupid of me to live in this delusion?” you ask quietly, fiddling with your necklace as it once again glows in response to you, your emotions. Lisa sighs, “I don’t think it’s stupid- I don’t think it's a delusion either, My little prince” she holds your face in her hands, using the tittle you've long since forgone. Lisa has always been with you, ever since you were a teen knowing nothing about life she had been one of the older flames who helped guide you. “If those wolves are what you desire, then you know i'll help you acquire them- I think they would come willingly” she jokes, and you huff out a laugh. “My desire means nothing in the face of their safety. I just, I like to think that If I was different, if I wasn't-” you stop your sentence, “I like to think that sometimes I could love someone the way you love her” you say. Lisa’s eyes fill with pain and she kisses your forehead, “You will, you'll find someone who loves you like that” ‘You already have’ she thinks but doesn't verbalize.

“Why are you always the one able to make me vulnerable?” you ask rhetorically, biting your cheek in an effort not to cry. Lisa’s warmth sometimes reminds you more of your mother than a sister. “I've been your guard since before you knew what love meant [M/N], if you didn't feel safe enough to be vulnerable with me I wouldn't be doing my job right” she bites back and pats your cheek before her hands leave your face. “You know you don't have to protect me right? I can do it myself” you muse, and she responds without a beat, “I don’t have too, I want to. Just because you're able to protect yourself doesn't mean you should. You protect the others, you protect your kids, so I protect you.”

You smile at her, and she’s reminded of another time, a younger you running between an army of soldiers, laughing as the big burly men in all black gaze with fondness at your little figure. The contrast of your soft white hair and clothing to their intimidating nature always drew a laugh from onlookers. Lisa remembers sitting next to her love as you played with the soldiers, she remembers a time your smile was innocent and not burdened with the pain and knowledge you now hold.

She hopes these wolves could bring back that smile.

Ateez masterlist | Navigation

Taglist [12 /30]: @foxilsdenn @zzstar @glitchyaiko @brrrkdslek @scarfac3 @xavi-in-kpopland @conwunder @venn-ie @dahbee8 @idkwhatto-namethis @seongsangssbitch @grapejellysollie

note: RAAHH IM SO EXCITED TO FINALLY RELEASE THIS, you have no idea how much I love this storyline guys :(( im taking a long time with it because i wnat it to be good!! I hope all my moonies enjoy this <3333 Please remember the reader does have specific characteristics visually (hair and eyes), wich WAS stated in the character introductions and are there for reasons so im asking nicely that everyone be respectfull about that <3 ANYWAY on a happier note I'm using a lot of foreshadowing for this series, so I want my moonies to interact with it a lot :) share with me your theories, parts of thd chapters that stand out to you, headcannons or thoughts you have :)) If your theory is correct I'll give you a lil spoiler on what will happen further in the story. I want to see how smart my moonies are and if they can pick up the crumbs I leave for them- remember no piece of information is given if it won't be used😘

copyright | 2024 | @asherthehimbo

[lameeyeens]

Superhero AU - A Thief's Heart

I will be hashtag updating this with future art but for now we've got yet ANOTHERRRRR AU. I've only got Alaric because my co-writer hates drawing (real me too) soooooo SPIDERMAN!!!!!!!! HE'S SPIDERMAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHAHWEDFRGTHJYHJOIJHGPOKH ITS SPIDERMAN ITS SPIDERMAN HES COMING TO FORTNITE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am so proud of this actually and bonus points to you if you can find the original image I referenced!! :) Again will be adding onto this with extra art n writings... ehhehee..... short hair alaric lowk fweaks me out but i rlly .... i rlly like it... its kinda growing on me... (my cowriter HAAAAATESSS it)

[deiaiko]

Day 4: Free day / AU

Bam’s fingers smear in their wake, but Khun barely feels a thing. It’s already too late. Khun can only hold him close as Bam’s breaths grow more and more shallow. “Bam?” I told you, Khun wants to say, even if the words are bitter in his mouth. You just had to try it. Bam had walked into that place himself, smiling cheerfully, unaware of his doom. It was a quick transaction, barely a few points, and yet—

It's very crack, but I'm putting the rest of the pic under the cut just in case

(Read the fic btw, it will make much more sense)

[cure-typhoon]

using my stupidity in the morning and turning the chat between me and my mom into a chat between Luis and Karkat

With some changes as im not such a drama queen as Luis and with less emojis

[jessread-s]

✩💗☁️Review: Kiera Cass certainly toys with hearts in her first dual pov standalone! “A Thousand Heartbeats” alternates between Princess Annika and Lennox’s perspectives. As a member of the Kadier royal family, Annika lives a life controlled by her duty to her country. As a solider of the Dahrainian army, Lennox lives a life driven by the hope that he will one day reclaim the land that Kadier stole from his people. When Annika and Lennox’s worlds collide, heartstrings become entangled despite the fierce rivalry between their kingdoms. The more they fight their deeply rooted feelings for each other, the more they realize that love truly is stronger than hate. Admittedly I was intimidated by the length of “A Thousand Heartbeats” (seeing that it is twice the size of Cass’ usual books), but the short chapters paired with the compelling plot twists and incorporation of some of my favorite tropes (namely enemies-to-lovers and forbidden love) kept me engaged throughout the novel’s entirety. Another aspect of “A Thousand Heartbeats” that I enjoyed was Cass’ world-building. She immerses the reader in Kadier’s rich history through Annika’s celebration of Founder’s day—a day in which the country’s citizens take part in a fox chase and a painted stone hunt. In a similar fashion, Cass paints a picture of Dahrain by exposing the reader to Matraleit—a holiday centered around love and the first wedding of the first people to walk the earth. My only gripe with this novel is that Cass borrows plot points from her other publications and weaves them into “A Thousand Heartbeats,” making the storyline predictable. However, this issue will not impact first time readers of Cass’ body of work and did not diminish my love for Cass’ storytelling. ➤ 4.25 stars

Cross-posted to: Instagram | Amazon | Goodreads | StoryGraph

@partylikeawordstar​ @epicreads​

[postclasspecting]

you know what we say folks, At Least It's Not ~ATH

seriously that thing sucks

coding got me saying shit like “target the child” “assign its class” “override its inheritance” like the third wife of a dying oil baron discovering his of-age son born out of wedlock

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

OMG no way are you going to write an AU of Daemon's visions at Harrenhal??? I know its AAAAAGES away from where you are in the current story but desperate hos wanna kno ;)

Ask, and ye shall receive!

until i bleed myself dry

Note: This is technically using the characters/characterisation I have established in my terms of endearment series, but really you only need to know that the Reader is Rhaenyra's younger sister and that, instead of marrying Laena, he spent a decade ho-ing it up in Pentos before coming home and getting dazzled by his niece before deciding to wife dat gurl.

WARNING: Please note this is dark, dark stuff. Discretion is advised. Please use your judgement wisely before engaging.

Triggers: graphic depictions of violence, violence against children, character d*ath, MAJOR hallucinations, sexual scenes including visibly underaged character/s.

There is something fucking wrong with this place.

Daemon feels like a skittish child as he withdraws to his chambers, covers drawn up to his neck like the fabric will keep away the very worst of midnight evils. He does not know if the steady drip, drip, drip he hears is in his head or if the stone ceiling is cracked enough to let through the rain. Knowing Harrenhal, he would hardly be surprised by the latter. Still, the noise only serves to speed the racing of his thoughts, turning them fearful as he has not felt since the weakness of his youth.

In this moment, he curses his own doings. If he had stayed his hand—if he had held his tongue—the boy would not be dead, and mayhaps you would not be so wroth with him. He would not be alone in this shithole of a keep a world away, chilled to the bone and miserable as he thinks of you warm and safe in your bed with the children. Without him.

When he finally falls asleep, he dreams.

He knows it is a dream, for he can hear your humming. Soft, sweet, the kind of tune you sing to Daeryx after one of his tantrums. His head lifts from the pillow and he finds himself back in your shared rooms on Dragonstone, eyes finding you in the chair by the hearth. Your hair, unbound, shines like molten amber in the firelight, swaying softly as you tend to business that is concealed from his gaze. Enthralled, he rises, making his way to you.

Drip, drip, drip.

He pauses. That sound… it doesn’t belong here. He calls your name. You ignore him. He moves closer, tentative.

“Come look,” you murmur suddenly, startling him. “Come, kepus.”

His feet move unbidden, out of his control.

Bile pools at the back of his throat, gut curdling at the sight of the boy—the boy—cradled in your lap. You and he are wet with blood, and it drip, drip, drips to the floor, echoing eerily. His eyes are open, face petrified, and Daemon realises that the dark at his neck is not in fact a shadow but a gaping wound, made jagged by the weapon used.

You look up at him, skin shining with sweat and expression exultant. “Look at him, kepus. Look at what you made.”

Memory flashes—he brings his son back down to rest beside his daughter on your lap, two moonshine miracles side by side. “Look at them, kepus,” you whisper, spellbound. “Look at what we made”—and his lungs constrict. You make to lift the child up, but the movement jostles his head off its perch, and it rolls to the ground to stop by his feet. He cannot move. He is frozen, horrified.

You smile, tucking the headless corpse under your chin. Gore pulses against your throat as your chin settles to the yawning maw of the child’s open neck. You rock in your seat, a faint squelch each time your shifting weight disturbs the sodden cushion beneath you.

“I love him,” you whisper, lips pressing to where flesh meets innards. Your mouth comes away red. “I love him so much.”

Daemon awakens with a yell. He swallows once, twice, and then—

He leans over the side of the bed, retching violently. When it is over, he curls up on his side, shaking, staring at his hands. They are wet with blood.

It does not take long for terror to settle in his bones like a longtime companion. It follows him each day, in every waking moment, manifesting in strange visions that he knows—he knows—must be untrue, cannot possibly be real, and yet… And yet. There is a sort of verity in them.

Dark Sister feels like a leaden weight at his hip as he stalks the keep, a reminder of his earlier encounter with Rhaenyra. Only she was not the Rhaenyra he knows, and instead a strange sort of blend of child-queen, the face of the girl peering out accusingly from under her father’s too-large crown, exclaiming all manner of hurt as she stepped from the Iron Throne upon which she perched.

“You put me on that throne. And you love me, and you hate me for it. You created me, Daemon. Yet you are now set on destroying me. All because your brother loved me more than he did you.”

And, without warning, he had taken his blade up in arms and struck off her head, a puppet on strings pulled by another. As her body fell, it morphed into the boy again. Jaehaerys. The child he had murdered. He heard your humming even while Simon Strong’s voice filtered through his unconscious mind, alerting him of the raven that just arrived.

The healer woman’s concoctions have helped little. He still wakes to strange noises, still finds himself stalking after his monstrous one-eyed nephew down the halls, only to find that it is himself he is pursuing. He hears the words you yelled at him in that last great quarrel— “get away, leave before you turn on us and murder us like you murdered that boy”—interspersed with the sound of your screams, and perhaps they are the screams you let out when birthing his children, or perhaps they are screams of a different kind, a version of himself making good on the implication of your words, steel in hand and pursuing his love, his life, his blood—

These figments blur with reality to the point that he becomes unsure of what is before him and what exists only in his head to haunt him. He comes to dread the resting hours, only to find their horrors bleeding into daylight. Whatever strange power has come to roost in his mind serves only to bring him torment.

Perhaps this is why he is not immediately suspicious when he comes face-to-face with you once more.

You stand by the window, the dim light filtering weakly over your bare form. Your back is to him, curls spilling to brush the tops of your buttocks. Their gentle sway—the barest kiss to your skin—is tantalising, and his mouth dries even as he watches your neck crane, sly smile tossed back over your shoulder at him.

“Daemon,” you beckon. Like a cuntstruck fool, he is helpless to resist the call.

His hands settle to the familiar divots of your waist, up and up and up to cup the fullness of your tits. You lean into him, a quiet huff of pleasure escaping as his fingers squeeze and his lips fall unbidden to the slope of your jaw. He inhales deeply, stirred even now by the simplicity of your scent, a throbbing line straight to his groin. You turn in his hold, nose nuzzling against his chin.

“You were right,” you say, eyes shining. “You were always right.”

He is under some enchantment, surely, for he is incapable of coherent speech. All he can do is feel the satisfaction heat his veins, allow it to tug at the corner of his mouth. I knew it, he thinks. I knew her will would bend eventually.

You speak still, even as he backs you toward the bed. “Papa was weak. Rhaenyra is weak. Only you are the true blood of the dragon.”

You shift backward onto the mattress, legs parting invitingly. The split of you opens, revealing flushed folds and the teasing glimmer of want, shining slick for his hungered gaze.

“Fearless”—your hand trails down your belly, fingers tracing around your pearl—“brave”—you venture lower, pressing teasingly at your cunt, your lip caught between your teeth—“strong.”

Daemon drops to his knees before you, tongue licking through the spill and catching on your finger. He bullies it out of the way, arms locking around your thighs as he gluts himself on the sweet tang of you, senses clouding and narrowing to a singular point of existence. You grip his hair, the arches of your feet digging against his back.

“It is not my place to question you,” you breathe, twisting and writhing with his ministrations. He watches your face, enraptured by the toss of your head and the shape of your lips as they form moan after moan. Your release is quick, a final sobbing yelp followed by a flood of slick warmth. When your eyes reopen, they are blazing with reverence. Reverence for him. Your knees flex up, your lower half folded almost to your chest. Your cunt contracts, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. “I live to serve you, my king.”

His head feels heavy as he rises just barely to crawl over you. He frowns. When he lifts his hand to extricate yours from his hair, he finds not flesh, but cool metal. A crown.

“My king,” you coo below him.

Your surroundings are changed. It is not the meagre offerings of Harrenhal that frame you now, but the sumptuous trimmings of the king’s chambers in the Red Keep, only brighter, more lavish than they ever have been. Jewels sparkle at your throat, in your hair, at your wrists. The sheets are molten gold against your silver-pale, and you wind your hips up at him provocatively, catching his cockhead against your opening.

“You belong on the throne, husband,” you say, fist closing around his shaft and pumping once, twice. You lead him back to the core of you, nudging him just inside. “Uncle. My love. And I belong at your side—at your feet—under your body.”

“My queen,” he gasps, driving forward with a grunt, and oh, he has missed you, missed this, missed the clutch of your walls like a mother’s embrace and the sound of your breathy cries as he plunges deep. Plunges home.

“My king,” you call out, rising into him with unrestrained abandon, precious gems clinking frantically with each fevered hitch of his hips against yours. “My lord. My master. I was made for you.”

“Yes…”

“Chain me to this bed, my king.” Your spine arches toward him, hands grabbing for his own and leading them above your head. He takes this for the encouragement it is, pinning your wrists to the pillow and rutting harder. You shout, elbows flexing to no avail. “Give to me my purpose. Give me your heirs.”

He is helpless to stop the noises escaping his mouth, feral and uninhibited, fucking with near painful intent. You take it all, curving yourself deeper, holding yourself more open so that he may lay claim to his conquest. As only a king can.

“And when I have birthed one,” you say, though now it is more a prolonged keening sound, “give me another. Never stop. Oh! Make me—make me take it—”

He does not know if he is imagining it or if it is happening before his eyes, but he can see it: ruling the Seven Kingdoms, sitting the Iron Throne the way his brother never could, striding down the halls of the keep as the commons bow and scrape to their sovereign, bursting into his chambers after small council to find his queen, to find you where you always are, naked in his bed and belly round and leaking milky white between your thighs, for it is his kingly law that the only part you play here is this, waiting for him to find you and fuck you and fill you and keep you, his little niecewifequeenpet—

He snarls, pulsing and burning. You squeal as he pushes past onslaught and straight to violence, bodies colliding so forcefully that his bones ache and his brain feels like jelly wobbling in his skull. What leaves his mouth can only be bestial in nature now. “I’ll make you—”

“Yes, make me take it until I cannot. Until my cunt is ruined by you.” He feels his end rushing up with every word you wail, his joints locking and grinding and gut roiling with the anticipation of it. “Until my womb is destroyed. Until I bleed myself dry, my king. Only for you.”

“Wha—”

The horror of it escapes him, for it is too late: the release crashes on him like a tidal wave, shoving him below its surface and imprisoning him in its current. He makes a noise like a wounded boar, chasing through the high despite the alarm in his mind, so at odds with the soaring rhythm in his loins.

You laugh, tilting welcomingly to receive him. “Make me bleed, my king. Make me bleed like my mother.”

It is enough to chill the heat in his blood to ice, destroying any semblance of enjoyment. But he cannot stop the unsteady eking out of what remains of his peak. He tries, but he cannot stop.

“No,” he says, a contradiction to the enthusiasm of his flesh prison. “No, no, I cannot. No—”

“What do you mean?” you ask, a strange quality to it. A duality. It crystallises into something comprehensible with every word that comes from your lips. All at once, it is not your voice he hears, but something much higher, younger, blending and overlapping with the cadence he recognises. “You already have.”

He looks down as he makes his final groaning thrusts, only to feel his stomach drop through the floor. Your thighs are soaked in blood, his cock sluicing a path through it all the while. All that flesh covered in red, and he glances up, only to see that you are gone, you are replaced by someone so small, so frightfully small, and he realises you are not replaced, it is you, but it is a you he has not seen for well over ten years, eyes wide and frightened and gleaming like game stuck through by an arrow and taking its final breath.

Daemon rears back, but it is too late. You begin to cry. A dark patch spreads out from underneath your broken body, from where he had torn your fragile opening apart. What have I done? he thinks.

“It hurts, kepus,” you say. “It hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, fixed to stillness by revulsion. “I’m sorry. I never meant to—”

“But you did,” you insist, childish pout despite your obvious agony.

Your hands reach out, and he leans away, too horrified to touch you—and he doesn’t know if it is you or he that he is more afraid of in this moment—but you are not searching through the air for him, no. Instead, a bundled weight is settled in them, and you bring it into the crook of your arms, gripping it as though it is the most precious of objects. You smooth the fabric from the top of it to reveal a tiny head of silver hair. The babe gurgles and roots at your flat chest, absurd and awful.

“This is what you wanted,” you say, eyes filled with betrayal. “Am I going to die now, kepus?”

Your Grace…

He shakes his head, but he is no fool. You are too little to withstand the sheer volume of blood you have lost if the bedding is anything to go by. He feels it stain his legs. He feels it drying on his cock.

“Your Grace?”

“I will, though. I’m too young. You’ve killed me.” The babe begins to suckle, and you cry harder. Your body isn’t built for this task, not yet, not like this. He wants to protest, to tell you that this is not his work, cannot be, for he has and would never do something so foul, so wholly inhuman, that the you he has gotten with child has only ever been a woman grown, but it is like you know his thoughts for you scoff and say, “You’re lying to yourself. I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He stares down at you, immobile, unable to even think. The metallic scent of your life leaving you fills the air, floods his nostrils with stinging heat.

“… Your Grace?”

Daemon jolts, blinking. Ser Simon Strong looks back at him. “Is the duck not to your liking, Your Grace?”

All at once, you are gone. The king’s chambers are gone. He is not even within his dank chambers at Harrenhal. Instead, he sits at the table in what passes for the dining hall here, a plate full of food steaming before him. The smell makes him ill.

“There’s also goose, if you’d prefer…”

He swallows, trying to ground himself in the present. Voices waft all around him, but he finds it difficult to pay attention.

“I’m not hungry,” he says shortly. It sounds stronger than he feels.

A pause, and then—

Simon clears his throat, turning to his companions. “I was saying, given the rather dire news…”

Daemon tries to concentrate. He does. He knows the others are speaking of matters of utmost importance. Of  Rook’s Rest, of his nephew, of the war. But his mind can only turn over his encounter—his vision? His nightmare? Or is it merely truth finally unveiled to unworthy eyes?—with you, the last of your words haunting him near to madness.

“I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He has grown restless here, revolving between the frustration of securing an army from those who see naught in him but the very worst and the torment of these terrible visions that seek him out at their pleasure, heedless of his duty or desire. Tedium or terror—when he is entrenched in one, he wishes for the other, and there is always a sick sort of irony in the granting of said wishes. In truth, he is able enough to tolerate the resistance of these riverlanders, insulting as it is. The phantasms that pursue him have almost become too much to bear.

What is worse? The accusations from the mouth of a juvenile Rhaenyra, full of admonishments for the way he’d so thoroughly undermined her claim before she ever got the right to exercise it? The condemnations from Viserys, a retracing of steps trod so long ago, brought to life once more and forcing Daemon to relive the very worst of his brother? The boy’s laughter darting through the stone halls, an ominous prelude to the sickening sound of steel sawing through skin and the rolling of his head, landing always at the feet of the one responsible for his fate?

They are all bad enough as they are, but for the simple fact that they do not surprise him. Monster, they call him, and he wears the name well. In most all aspects, he is a monster. But never has he thought himself monstrous to you.

He has come to despise the sight of you here, sometimes docile and worshipful, sometimes angered and raving. Sometimes you appear as a siren come to lure him to iniquity, and like a fool he always falls into the trap. Other times, you are battered, caged, a shell of yourself. No matter how it begins, the end is always the same: bloodied, beaten, fading from the world, and it is always his hands he finds the cause of it in. A new reminder every time of all the ways he has thought of taking you, owning you, keeping you. Always, he thinks to save you—to protect you. Always, he destroys you.

Just as he thinks himself finally driven to the edge of all reason, the Rivers woman beckons him to the godswood.

“When you came here,” she says, “you were a closed fist. You wished to bend the world to your will. But you’ve discovered, I think, that… this world will not be governed. There are omens here for those who seek them.”

She pauses. The air seems to whisper, to creak in the dark. Daemon suppresses the urge to shiver. Her eyes move to him, an odd little quirk to her mouth. Amusement, he thinks. Or pity.

“You do not scoff?” she asks.

How can he, after all he has seen here? He has been brought to the very edge of sanity by these omens. What irony, it is, after the great complaints he has made of superstition in past weeks (and months, and years).

“I’m no longer inclined to,” is his short reply.

She laughs. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

She stops before the heart tree and turns to him, expression solemn.

“Do you wish, then, to learn what is given to you?” The answer must lie in his face, for he cannot do anything but stare, silent, tense. “All your life, you have sought to command your own fate”—she takes his hand—“but today, you are ready.”

Gentle pressure at his wrist, and something in him knows to move past her, to take those final few steps so that he is close enough to make out the details of the face carved into the wood. His arm raises by itself, acting on its own power, or perhaps some higher power, his fingers brushing bark and the hot pulse of… blood? But he has no time to truly question it for—

He is flying—

No—

He is a raven, staring at the face of a pale-haired man with a wine-dark stain on his face and he flies into the forest, towards an army, only there is something wrong with the soldiers, they are blue and their eyes glow ice-cold and their breath is frosted with death and their bodies carry the look of corpses stood upright once more—

And then the dragons are dead, all of them, the ground wet not with water but with blood and he walks through it, falls straight into the ground and he is drowning, steel plate armour dragging him down into the depths and he looks up at the sky—

A red comet bursts through the air, hot like fire, and he sees eggs embroiled in flame, a girl sat in ash cradling the bodies of three newly-hatched dragons, a whisper of a memory on the air, “we are the only ones able to bring the fire to life… It is the secret”—

And he is before the Iron Throne, suddenly silent.

Rhaenyra stands before the seat. Viserys’s crown is in his hands. She moves toward him, down the stairs of the throne. He hears her speak.

“From my blood…”

But she does not finish. A roaring conflagration engulfs her and she screams, twisting and warping before him, burning, only not, because you step from the flames, unburnt, voice mingling with that of your sister’s, a haunting echo.

“… come the Prince Who Was Promised…”

You are before him, taking the crown from his grasp and retracing the steps your sister took, and then you are stepping over a charred body, Rhaenyra, oh gods, and ascending the steps. You sit. You lift the crown. You place it on your head.

“… and his shall be the song of ice and fire.”

He is on his knees now, right on that final step at your feet. He feels the warmth of you as you bend forward, your palm caressing his jaw. You look otherworldly in the shadow, backlit silver and gold and wearing a king’s accoutrements far better than any of your predecessors.

“You know what must happen now, Uncle,” you say gently, kindly. “You know what you must do.”

He bows his head to kiss your ring—the seal of the king—no, the queen—and then wind is whistling in his ears, chilling him to the bone and spraying his hair about wildly, so much so that he can barely hear the words yelled at him by the boy sitting astride Vhagar.

“You have lived too long, nuncle.”

—and he wrenches away, panting, body collapsing before the heart tree like a puppet with its strings cut. The world comes back to him in fragments: the scent of dirt and woodlands, the sharp sting of cold, the ache in his muscles that has since settled like sludge at the bottom of a river, ever-present and persisting. Finally, finally, he withdraws with hands washed clean, free of his many sins.

At last, he has come to the crux of it. At last, he understands.

He sits at the base of the tree, stunned and overcome, as faint words slither on the breeze, a final knell from the liminal space of prophecy. Your name. A cheer.

“Long live the queen! Long live the queen!”

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[yeonzzzn]

👑why is it so heavy?: choi soobin

pairing: soobin x afab!reader word count: 3.2k

synopsis: what is heavier than the burdens of being a princess with normal princess duties being forced to marry a man you do not want or have anything to do with? the heaviness of seeing the prince you want being forced to marry a woman he also does not want. what’s even heavier? the weight of not being able to do anything about it.

genre: royalty!soobin, royalty!reader, arranged marriage, forbidden love, modern day royalty au.

warnings: swearing, cheating, one make out session, mentions of sex, one d!ath joke, no happy ending.

You stared at him. Watching the way his hair parted perfectly and shaped his face. How his smile which showed how bright his teeth were, was enough to melt your heart. 

His cream-colored royal jacket with golden buttons and wave design covering his chest and torso made his tanned skin glow perfectly. His tailor really knew what colors looked and matched him beautifully. 

He shook hands with the king of the neighboring country, giving him a soft bow. 

You couldn’t hear what they were speaking, but that didn’t stop you from tilting your head to give your ear a better listen, even though it didn’t work. 

His eyes finally met yours, his already perfect smile growing even wider at the sight of you. 

But your smile faded seeing his future wife wrap her around tightly around his waist, causing his attention to be brought to her. His smile wasn’t as wide when smiling at her, but it was still perfect all the same. 

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head, her giggles being heard from where you stood. 

Prince Soobin, the man of your dreams. Love of your life. Someone you couldn’t have. 

You turned around, your hands gripping your royal blue gown. 

“Princess,” your caretaker softly said, “You’ll ruin your gown, be more gentle.” 

You adored your caretaker, she’s been with you since you were born. Was there when your mother gave birth to you and watched you grow up and even taught you everything you know. She even knew your secrets, and god bless her for keeping them. 

She leads you down the hall, taking you to meet your father for your daily lunch in the garden. 

If only you saw how saddened the prince's eyes became when you turned your back towards him, watching as you turned the corner and disappeared. 

—

“Princess,” Soobin sang, peeking around the pillar you stood at. 

The prince was no longer in his princely outfit. Now he wore light blue jeans, black Converse, a white button-up shirt with a black tie, and a brown jacket. 

It was what he liked to call his “normal people fit.” You had to admit, you preferred seeing him like this. Without all the royal glamor. Just normal. No titles. Or the reminders. 

Soobin also preferred you in “normal people outfits.” Mostly the one you’re wearing right now. The dark blue skinny jeans with white sneakers, a soft pink tank top, and a cream cardigan. It made his heart flutter. 

You tilted your head up and smiled at him, the moonlight making his brown eyes pop beautifully. 

“Come here,” he whispered, his hand reaching around your waist and pressing your body to his. Lips connecting to yours immediately. 

You’ve known Soobin your entire life. Your families are really close, both your fathers being lifelong best friends. 

You lived in the neighboring country and only took visits to see the royal Choi family when your father had time, which only happened twice to three times a year. 

But darkness fell to your country, forcing you and your family to flee. The Choi family took you in with no questions asked. Your father was grateful. 

The war happening on your territory was brutal, your family worried you would never be able to return. But alas the war ended a couple of years after. But obviously, your family never returned home. 

King Choi extended his home to your family, setting a good deal with your father for the two of them to just rule over this kingdom together. Your father accepted. 

You were so young when you fled your country, you barely remember what it even looked like. Your older siblings on the other hand, unfortunately, have to deal with that darkness for the rest of their lives.

So you grew up in the Choi’s castle. You weren’t super close with Soobin at first. You both were super shy and always hid behind your parents or siblings when forced to interact with each other. But as time went on, the two of you dropped the shy act and finally became friends. 

Soobin at the age of twelve was then sent off to a boarding school, following in the footsteps of his two older siblings did at that age. 

He was gone for years, not returning home until he was twenty. 

You were in the middle of your studies at the local cafe in town (that you ultimately snuck out to do) when the word got around that Prince Soobin had returned home after eight years. 

You rushed back to the castle, sneaking in through the garden and into your bedroom window, quickly changing into a nice dress and rushing out to greet him in the royal dining hall. 

The first thing you noticed was how much taller he was, your once best friend sprouted up. He filled perfectly into his body and you could tell he took into working out. His jawline was so sharp you swore it could cut into diamonds. He grew up nicely. 

To say that everything was back to normal would be a lie. Soobin was like a whole different person. He was a man, and oh goodness did he send butterflies in your belly. 

Your attraction didn’t go unnoticed by him. No, no, Soobin noticed the moment you two locked eyes again for the first time in eight years. He saw how your pupils dilated, how your chest raised and fell when you looked at him. The unease in your breath when you spoke to him. It sets emotions in place with you that he hasn’t ever felt before. 

Of course, when Soobin was away he had his fair share of other females to fit his needs, but none of them had that one thing he wanted. And all it took was locking eyes with you again after all these years to see you were what he always wanted. 

Soobin and you spent more time together than you normally did as kids. Sneaking out of the castle or into each other's bedrooms at night. It was obvious the two of you felt something. 

He’d steal quick kisses from you in passing during his and your royal duties. Passing notes to you in the halls with times and where to meet him next. 

Soobin filled your heart so quickly. Becoming your first of everything. 

You remember the night he laid you gently on the grass under the moonlight hidden in the corner of the garden. His hands softly undressed you until you were completely bare to him. Your hands help undress him. 

His hands felt so gentle against your skin as he touched you. He touched you with such passion, with so much love. 

The way his bare skin felt against yours sent you into heaven as his hips rolled into yours, biting the edge of his shoulder to keep your moans from getting too loud. 

Your secret relationship was beautiful, perfect, and filled with so much love and care. The two of you were finally ready to come forward about your relationship of almost a year. 

Unfortunately, that wouldn’t happen. 

Both your fathers had other plans. King Choi found the “perfect match” for his son, announcing the arranged marriage. And your father, bless his dear heart, found a suitor for you as well, arranging a marriage for you as well. 

Soobin remembered clenching his fist and yelling at his father at the dinner table that night. You sat silently beside him, eyes locked onto your plate of food. 

“And what if I don’t want to marry?!” Soobin snapped, his fists slamming on the table. 

“And that’s something you can’t control!” the king fired back, “It’s already been done. We didn’t send you off for eight years to enhance your languages and studies for nothing!” 

That angered Soobin even more, “So I am just some thing to be sent off for your own personal gain?!” 

The king sat quietly. Soobin’s mother also sat quietly, her hands in her lap. 

Your family also said nothing. Eyes glancing between the Choi family. 

“You’ll be wed by the age of twenty-four,” his father finally said, “You’ll be meeting your princess in two days. Fix your attitude before then.” 

Soobin said nothing and stormed out of the dining room. 

You were also to be wedded off by twenty-four. You were a couple of months younger than Soobin, meaning you’d be the one to watch him get married off first. 

It’s been two years since that conversation. Soobin was scheduled to be married off shortly after he turned twenty-four in December. Only seven months away. 

You and Soobin kept secretly seeing each other, only now you had to be even more careful than before. 

Soobin’s future wife moved into the castle shortly after they met. Thank god she had her own room though. 

You also met your future husband not too long after the other princess moved in. He was sweet, nice, very caring, could sing, rap, dance, and was a big ramen enthusiast. He looked at you like you put the stars in the sky. 

Unfortunately for him, you wanted nothing to do with him. A friendship, maybe? But nothing more. Soobin felt the same for his princess. She was sweet, and nice, could also sing and dance, and was even a painter. But he could only take so much being around her. 

You two had to fake it until you made it. Praying that one day your families call off the whole thing to begin with. But with only a handful of months left, it was clear your fathers weren’t changing their minds. 

Which just brings you two where you are now. 

Standing in your spot in the garden that overlooked the city below. Soobin’s hands slid up and down your body as he pressed you between him and the pillar. 

His tongue twisted around yours, mixing your salvia together. He rolled his hip into you, feeling his hard length against your stomach, “You never fail to get me so hard,” he whispered against your lips. 

You couldn’t help but giggle, “Now now my love, princes don’t speak so naughty like that,” 

Soobin smiled against your lips, “Can’t help it when you make me feel this way.” 

Soobin always had a small crush on you even as children, it was why he was so shy at the beginning. He took that small crush with him even when he was abroad, thinking maybe that’s why it never worked out with the other females he dated. 

But when he came back home and saw how grown up you become, the way your hair was so much longer, how your body filled out to its curves. The way your breasts look perfect no matter the outfit or dress you wore. You were a woman, a woman he wanted to ruin and keep only for himself. 

Soobin loved you, so so very much. You held his heart in his hands and held the very power to crush it at your will. 

You pulled away from his lips, leaning your head back against the pillar, “Want to hold me while we look at the stars?” 

Soobin kissed your forehead, his hands now resting on your hips, “Anything for you, my princess.” 

Soobin sat on the grass, his back against the pillar and your back against his chest. His hands are wrapping around you tightly. 

You two sat in silence, your head resting against his neck as he was on top of your head. 

“Have you had sex with her yet?” you don’t know what caused you to even ask that question. But with only several months left until Soobin was to be wed to her, your curiosity got the best of you. 

Due to the fact you're both arranged to be married to two separate people, you’ve both spent most of your time with your fiancés if you weren’t busy with normal royal duties. 

“YN…” he said, his arms now falling at his side, “We don’t have to do this.” 

You knew you didn’t. But your brain wouldn’t settle down until the question was answered. 

“I know,” you whispered, “I’m just asking.” 

Soobin bit his lip, leaning his head back against the pillar, “It happened for the first time the other night. She snuck into my room.” 

You just nodded. You weren’t mad or even jealous. You understood it was bound to happen. They’ll be married in months. And if Soobin shrugged her off it would be suspicious. 

“You and Yeonjun?” his shaky voice asked, “Have you?” 

You didn’t lie, just gave him a small nod, “Last night. I wasn’t feeling good and he brought me some tea and read my favorite book to me. It kinda just happened.” 

It would take everything Soobin had to not throw a punch at Yeonjun the next time he sees him. 

But same as you, Soobin understood there was no choice in the matter. Both of you fought your parents until the bitter end and nothing changed. You had to accept your fates. 

“No one can pleasure you like me though,” he said, wrapping his arms back around you, “Only I can.” 

You just rolled your eyes and leaned back into him. He was right, but hearing him act so cocky was silly to you. Soobin knew he was it for you. 

“YN,” he said with a kiss to your temple, “Let’s run away together.” 

You giggled, “That’s a funny joke, where would we even go?” 

Soobin just shrugged, “Anywhere you wanted. We could get away from all this. Live normal lives.” 

As tempting as that was, you knew your fathers would stop at nothing to bring you both home. You’d both be found out and permanently forced away from each other. It would cause too much trouble. You both knew it. 

“Bin,” you whispered, “You know we can’t.” 

He did know. And it killed him. Oh, the things he’d do to have a normal life with you. To leave behind this royalty bullshit. To give up his titles and money and status. He didn’t care. He just wanted you. 

“What if we just, ya know,” you shrugged, “Suddenly die in each other's arms?” it was a joke obviously, Soobin knew it too by the chuckle that left his mouth. 

“You mean like Romeo and Juliet?” Soobin couldn’t help but chuckle again, “That was such a depressing death though.” 

You giggled with him, “At least, we’d be together in the afterlife.” 

Soobin nodded, “Still a terrible way to go out, the way they did.” 

Your phone vibrating in your pocket pulled you back to reality. 

Soobin sighed, “It’s Yeonjun, isn’t it?” 

You nodded. You didn’t have to check to know that it was in fact Yeonjun. He probably went to your room and saw you weren’t there and was looking for you. 

“You should go,” he whispered, standing up from behind you, “What will you tell him?” 

Soobin helped you to your feet, dusting off the grass from the back of your legs, “That I was in the library or something. I don’t know yet.” 

Soobin just nodded, his hands cupping your face and crashing his lips to yours for the final time for tonight. 

“I love you, my princess,” he whispered between kisses.

“I love you too, my sweet prince,” you whispered back, pulling yourself away from him, his hands lingering on your hands as you walked away and his fingertips met with yours and then were gone, watching you quickly rush back inside the castle. 

—

The months flew by quicker than you wanted. Yeonjun sat beside you, his fingers rubbing against yours, “This is a very beautiful wedding venue,” he said, eyes wandering around, taking in the building and its Greek architecture as the snow fell outside and covered the windows, “I hope our wedding will be this beautiful or even better.” 

You just smiled at him and nodded, “I’m sure it will be,” 

Yeonjun couldn’t hold back his smile and leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your lips, “I can’t wait to marry you next week.” 

You tried to pull the most genuine smile you could, hoping he wouldn’t see the lies that were beneath it. 

How could you be happy right now? The love of your life was going to walk through those doors at any minute and wait for his fiancé. They’d be married soon and everything between you and Soobin would come to an end officially. 

The moment you dreaded finally happened. Soobin walked in, everyone gawking at how handsome he looked, asking if he was ready and nervous. 

If you didn’t know Soobin, you would think he was actually happy right now. But since you do, you could tell he was bullshitting his whole way through this. The sadness in his eyes and the way he looked at you with Yeonjun was proof enough as it was. 

Soobin walked over to you, Yeonjun quickly standing up to shake his hand, “Congrats, man. You’ll be a great husband, I know it!” 

You tried to not roll your eyes at your fiancé’s comment. Yeonjun knew you and Soobin were best friends and he tried so hard since moving into the castle to befriend Soobin too. Saying you’d all be a group of best friends soon enough. 

Let’s just say Yeonjun is still working on that. Soobin wasn’t giving him the time of day in that department. 

All Soobin did was nod and give Yeonjun a fake smile, his eyes darting to you, “You better be a good husband for her. She deserves the world.” 

Yeonjun quickly nodded, placing a hand on your back, “I’ll take good care of her, don’t you worry.” 

Soobin took one last glance between you two and walked away. 

“He looks nervous,” Yeonjun whispered as he sat back down. 

No, he just doesn’t like you because you get to marry me and he doesn’t and he’s being forced to marry someone he doesn’t want. 

The famous wedding music started playing, and your heart nearly stopped. 

The wedding went by quickly, the final vows being told, and Soobin and his princess officially being confirmed as husband and wife. The crowd clapped and cheered. 

Soobin took one final look at you, his eyes telling you how much he loved you for the last time before leaning in to kiss his now wife. 

You looked down at the floor, hands going limp in your laps. 

Yeonjun noticed you, him touching her back, “Baby, what’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?” 

You shook your head, quickly standing up after hearing the rest of the crowd stand as well. 

Except you were the first to leave your seat and quickly leave the venue. 

Soobin’s eyes followed you the whole way, his heart breaking into a million pieces. 

You stepped out into the cold, letting the snow fall onto you. You cried. You let the tears fall and your knees buckle down to the ground, your dress soaking up the wet from the snow. 

Soobin was no longer yours. 

And the weight of that was heavy. 

Why is it so heavy? You weren’t meant for each other in the end. 

So why was it so heavy? 

Why is everything so heavy?

[lunalouli]

How I think reverse robin au would go:

_ damian being the oldest sibling who came first he and bruce don't talk so much but they start to fight each time they do he would love his sibling but he doesn't know how to show them he's bad a communication cause he live with b and Alfred and he doesn't stop talking formally. His vigilante name would be "shadow" and he would leave the Manor at the age of 17 to the sister city Blüdhaven he tries to be a good brother to his sibling even thought he doesn't know how to show it and he has a protective side, I 100% sur he would kill the joker after he know about tim death then he killed ra for manipulating his younger brother and those killing were also part of the fall of his relationship with his father.

_duke was the second to came to the Manor at the age of 7, damian and him didn't get a long at first cause damian keep distance but they turn to be the beautiful, he didn't know about his power fist but them when he did bruce made sur to make him feel welcome duke was younger than tim but he stayed in the Manor the most he was athe good sunshine brother who maintained a good relationship with his sibling and bruce, he became vigilant after turning 9 goes by "spoiler". Batman listened to him the most.

_Stephanie was already a vigilant when bruce took her in, she was a the sister that camed but never really adopted she stayed in the Manor alot and loved to annoyed bruce who she started calling him B she had a healthy sibling relationship with her brothers even if damin did look weird and mysterious she loved to annoyed but he never snaped at here, she become batgirl. Tim death destroyed here and Jason coming home did bring here some joy but she couldn't forget her BFF death.

_tim camed next at the age of 12 he was adopted after discovery batman and spoiler, he and damian didn't get a long at fist but after tim talking with duke and understanding damian personality he looked up on him and somehow they started get along . joker captured tim to make him joker Jr but tim ended dead due to the experience, when he woke up he find himself in the hand of the demon head who manipulated him to the perfect puppet until damian came and saved him, there he learnt about his older brother past them damian bring him back to Blüdhaven tim was mentally investable but damian did all he could to help him recover then he want back to Gotham and reunited with his family and met his new brother,

_rev!Jason and Jason joined the same way to the batfamily after tim death he bring joy to bruce and duke, he didn't meet damian when he camed to the Manor he just find out about him by asking whoms room in the end turn out he had an older brother who he didn't know about he was excited to meet him, he looked and strong cool in jason eyes, he was more them bruce and he got along with him with book where he first met him , then he met Tim who he used to looked up and he did all he could do to enter the Jr heart ♥

_cass arrived is the same, she camed and stayed, she stayed close to bruce at first then duke, she got along with here sibling quick and here brother cheried here, they know her past. Damian looked at his sibling care to cass he didn't understand but he didn't hated it it was nice seeing how they care to the little girl who she remained him of his past, she also choose to become a vigilante under the name of orphan she started speaking but preferred to use sight language.

_dick camed last at the age of 8 same as the original version he was the lovely beautiful sunshine Little brother who was dear to the batfam but his favorite was damian who he looked up to he was like a father to him he become robin.

_bruce in this rev had a good relationship with duke cass Jay and dick, steph and him used to be close befor Tim's death but after that she made a distance with him and started to get along a little but not as before, him and tim didn't get along after his return because of tim killing problems and tim refusing to come close. But him and damian relationship was too far from a good relationship he didn't trust damian to change and always scolded him for small mistake until damian left the Manor they Don't talk and after killing joker there was ni room off talking only yelling, they Don't talk when damian visit the Manor even in the diner table and bruce always tell damian to stay away from his sibling cause he scared that damian would hurt them

[magicicephoenix]

Secret - The Ink Demonth 2024 (Day 5)

Stay quiet while Bendy’s away, Toony! He’d hate for the wrong person to discover you exist…

[asherthehimbo]

Characters: Nyx's children (Nixie's)| Halazia (Hala) pack | extra's

Information: Creature lore | Geology

Season one

Balance | prolauge

Pearl | chapter 1

-

Season two

New characters

-

Extra content

meme's | poems | scrapped ideas

Taglist [14/30]: @foxilsdenn @zzstar @glitchyaiko @brrrkdslek @scarfac3 @xavi-in-kpopland @conwunder @venn-ie @dahbee8 @idkwhatto-namethis @seongsangssbitch @grapejellysollie @haocovr @leezanetheofficial

if its in bold/blue I couldnt tag you

Status:VERYYYYY SLOWLY posting, like VERY I can not emphasize to you guys how slow this will be

comment to be added to the taglist

notes: ignore the fact that guardians is spelt wrong at the synopsis

copyright | 2024 | @asherthehimbo

[kth1fics]

Safe Haven (M) | PJM

Safe Haven

⟶ Pairing: Park Jimin x Female Reader ⟶ Genre: royalty, smut, 18+ ⟶ Tropes: forbidden love au, medieval royal au, royal king’s guard werewolf!jimin ⟶ WC: 16.2k+ ⟶ Warnings: mild birth scene mention (hardly any details!), mentions of d*ath, brief fighting/attacking descriptions, blood mentions, hair pulling (when attacked), weapons mentioned, poison/venom mention, random side character d*aths, soft pining, kisses, fingering, oral (f), unprotected sex, etc ⟶ Beta: Sarah bean! @caelesjjk ⟶ Summary: When a wolf protects the royal family for many years, he’s faced with one special princess who he’ll do anything for. ⟶ Author’s Note: Apart of the “To Love a Monster” collab! I took a long while to get this fic out – and I am sorry for those who have been waiting for it. It may take me months to write and readers minutes to read, but I do hope that this fic holds a special place in someone’s heart in the end! Please enjoy & leave some feedback if you have the time! ⟶ Song Recommendation: Bound to You by Christina Aguilera

Masterlist ◈ Mail Box ◈ AO3 ◈ Ko-Fi 

Freshly welcomed into the King’s Guard, Jimin, a sprouting young wolf, rushes around the corridors of the castle to obey the barking orders of his higher-ups. Making haste, all servants and guards make their purpose of assisting the Queen.

“Hurry!” Hoseok, another royal guard and close friend to Jimin, shuffles through the utility room. “Gather more cloth!”

“Aren’t people usually more prepared with things like this?” Jimin frantically follows, his voice rushed with the fast pace movements. 

“I’m afraid not,” Hoseok huffs a laugh.

The two younger royal guards speedily ransack each drawer and closet until their arms are full of materials. They stumble back down the hall towards the birthing chamber. A room enclosed for the parties who participate with the anticipated arrival of the next royal kin. A domestic, darkened room provided with the country's softest furnishings. Royal officials and servants are permitted to be within the room for the delivery to ensure that there are no scandals around the birthing practice.

A midwife places herself before the legs of the Queen. A moan of pain rips from her Highness’s throat. Jimin and Hoseok stand idly as the birthing of child number three crowns at the entrance of the world, preparing to gain its first breath of fresh air. The scene is natural for humans, even more common for a royal to carry out in front of an audience.

For Jimin, he prefers not to stare like the others. His polished amber eyes trail to the lines of the floorboards, using any peripheral view for his advantage.

“It’s a girl!” He hears the cries from a newborn baby, the declaration announced by the midwife who’s wiping off residue from the infant.

Placed on the chest of her mother, the newest child of the royals whines freely. The sound rings through the ears who listen. The King is joyous, regardless of being unable to create a proper heir to his throne. But with the first two daughters – and now third, the royal guards know his Highness will move quickly in trying for a son.

Servants flutter about, handling the delicacies of aftercare for childbirth. Jimin follows after his friend, handing off the pile of cloth to a maiden. Bodies move around another like an assembly line. 

For a moment, and only a moment is needed, did Jimin finally take a swift glance at the newborn who screams her upset. He locks eyes with the infant over the shoulder of Hoseok, seeing a warmth of an everlasting hearth as she cries wet droplets down her face.

Then it happened.

Jimin is struck with something that is indescribable. Something that couldn’t be defined. He’s heard through stories and lores within his lineage that this phenomenon could happen to anyone at any time in one's life. He hears about it through those he’s close to and those who experience it. It’s a once in a lifetime deal.

He can feel the shift of his weight when he locks eyes with the newborn baby. As if this new formed motion represents an outstanding astronomical level. Where his world, which once revolved around the Sun as it does for everyone, now revolves around this small, fragile child.

Jimin’s heartbeat thumps in his ears as the world freezes around him. Hoseok and the other royal wolf guards all sense a change in the wind. If it isn’t Hoseok ushering him out of the way of the other servants and departing out of the chamber, he’s sure the royal family would have done it themselves. 

With his head on a silver platter.

Hoseok’s palm slaps the side of Jimin’s cheek to gain his consciousness from whatever daze he’s fumbled in. It takes him a few good taps before Jimin blinks. His blood runs rampant inside him with warmth and excitement.

The second Jimin looked at the third child of the royal household, everything changed within him. All of a sudden, nothing else matters. The yearning of knowing and willing to do anything, be anything, for her is the only constant demand singing at the back of his head.

“You didn’t,” Hoseok’s hushed tone stays low. “Not a royal!”

“How am I supposed to control that?” Jimin stresses. “I can’t choose who this happens to! I didn’t expect this to happen to me!” He runs a hand through his soft hair, exhaling sharply as his mind begins to race.

“You’re going to learn,” Hoseok claims. His eyes are sharp and narrow. “You will learn to control it. A wolf is not allowed to be mixed with a royal. They’ll kill you.”

His imprint will be kept secret from the royals and the precious baby girl. But for his wolf mates, each of them knows the severity of the situation. Not one member will speak of it, they only can respect it. As for Jimin, he’ll spend the rest of her life – your life – being what you need him to be. A friend, a brother, a protector. Whatever you require of him, he will act accordingly in secrecy while obeying his rightful duties to the royal throne.

White flurries fall slowly from the gray clouds above, decorating the large courtyard, you look down towards the sheet of fresh snow. Most of the garden that blooms the most gorgeous flowers is now a mess of dead plants and weeds. The bare trees stand firm. But those who stand strong in the winter months like hollies with red berries and camellias, continue to stand out next to the beauty of sheared evergreens and deciduous shrubs with colorful stems.

Your eyes are not trained on admiring the bright snow that cascades from the sky so beautifully. Normally you would. As you sit by your glass window with a blanket around your shoulders, you look down from your chambers on the third level of the castle to fancy something different.

Men – some of the royal guards – play around with one another in the cold weather. Some have shifted to their wolven form, others remain in their noble suits. The one you fixate your stare on is your personal guard, Jimin.

He stands leaning against the stone staircase beside a few of his equals. Chatting away about who knows what, watching the others roughhouse. Jimin is quite handsome, he always has been. For as long as you can remember he’s looked the same, minus the fluctuation of hair styles and added tattoos that linger his body and a few added battle scars.

As a guard he wears your family's sigil proudly – a lotus flower – on each of his articles of clothing. Customized into each of the guards’ crested plates of metal armor and sewn into each leather hide. 

Jimin possesses the unfair mix of unlimited masculine and feminine traits, having a soft-looking composure and full lips plus a sharp jawline and toned muscles. His voice is nearly angelic when speaking in hushed tones but also stern as ever when he leads with his strong confidence. He may not be as large as his fellow wolves, but he’s proven himself countless times to your family to have the privilege to be your personal guard. There’s nobody quite like him; no one you’ve met in your life that is.

You commend him in silence, appreciating what you can watch from afar. Even from a distance behind a glass window, he somehow manages to make your heart race. An infatuation some may call it. A yearning. He and your family have been consistent in your life, he’s comfort – as are they. But you knew from a young age, from when you began favoring Jimin’s company over others, that you need to call it ‘nothing’. Because whatever feelings that spin deep inside you are never to be spoken aloud. It’s foolish for your Kingdom, family, and you to long for a wolf who doesn’t see you as anything but a duty.

What’s more disappointing is that you don’t need to admit these infuriating feelings to Jimin, he already knows. He would never allow it to get far by cutting you short and being curt with clipped words and disapproving looks.

He is a wolf and you are a royal. Two beings who have no business intertwining besides with loyalty to the family and the job of a guard. Your acquaintanceship between another is only going to be professional. Perhaps it’s to keep the bloodline pure, untainted. How every sibling of the family is betrothed to a neighboring kingdom, growing the alliance across countries. And not one of them has a blend of wolf’s blood in them. Even though werewolves are evident in the world around you.

“Aren’t you supposed to get ready for the party tonight?” A maid who's making your bed quips up as you're daydreaming down into the evergreen.

“I’ve been stuck on deciding which dress I should wear.”

“No, you’ve been stuck staring out into the courtyard,” she corrects.

You slump in your seat as you stubbornly hold your position by the window. When you look back down, you admire the off-brown and black tones of that particular wolf you fancy. She isn’t wrong, you know. His kind eyes and kind smiles make you feel warmth like no other, and you enjoy seeing them when you gain the chance.

“I can multitask,” you feebly argue. You drag the blanket tighter around your shoulders, keeping in the warmth of your body as much as possible. “Besides, the party isn’t for a few more hours.”

“Princess, you already have guests arriving. Half the guard is at the entrance welcoming the parties who show up early. Let’s not begin to mention how several potential suitors are arriving today. You’ve failed to marry even when betrothed. Such a shame what happened with the Jeon family.”

“I prefer not to be a royal. It doesn’t feel right the way we work,” you sigh as the joyful wolves down below have fun while you’re stuck in your tower with envy. “Can we braid my hair the way we did at my Aunt’s wedding? It cascaded down beautifully.” You speak while staring out of the window, purposely ignoring the heavier topic your maid mentions. “I’ll go with the silver dress. That one that comes with the gorgeous fur shawl.”

You notice the way that Jimin has suddenly turned to look up toward your window, half expecting to see you through the glass. Even in the midst of his comrades, he finds a way to give you an ounce of attention. He shakes his head momentarily, already scolding you without knowing what you’re supposed to be doing. Jimin knows looking for him isn’t on your agenda, you purposely put him there.

“For me to do that,” – you hear the voice of your maid – “I need you to get out of your chair and into your washroom.”

A small frown carves into your face when Jimin circles his finger in the air and directs you to turn around, go back to your business. He knows he’s escorting you tonight at the party, you will see him later. To make his point come across sternly, he disassociates his eye contact – bringing his attention back to his other peers and away from you.

“Princess,” your maid bids you once again.

Reluctant to leave your post at the window, you stand up regardless. You have a long night ahead of you while the castle starts to fill up with guests for your younger brother’s birthday party.

You can’t be bothered with the chattering staff or the nuisance of guests who flutter around the halls of your family’s castle. Each moment you find open to run away, to a quieter place and away from their eyes, you take it. Swiftly moving left and right until you can find your favorite spots to hide since you were a child. 

One of which happens to be past the hallway of family portraits. If you travel far enough you find yourself at a dead end. With cabinets, paintings, and curtains outlining every inch of the stone walls. Torches are lit to illuminate the surrounding areas, bringing light to the beautiful surroundings.

But little do most know, that behind painting number two – the one in the golden frame with green shrubbery and a little boy playing the flute – lies a secret behind it. You just need to get here without anyone seeing you sneak in. There’s no point in a secret hideout if you accidentally show it to other guests.

You wait for the time, seeing when that end of the hall becomes vacant and people rush toward the call of the buffet lines. The small talk you make with a few distant relatives is only an act, pretending to walk along with them but slipping away when you find your moment to.

Pressing lightly, the nook of a room behind the large painting greets you. It’s closet sized, filled with a few pieces of your past and littered in dust from lack of touch. Tarps are draped over unused furniture; you’re thankful that this hideout is never really used. The painting that acts as a door allows you a small peeping eyehole to look out and judge when you can come out.

The silver dress you picked for tonight's gathering is a smart choice for you; you’re able to sit down comfortably without restriction. You love the look of a free-flowing gown, falling nicely with the way you walk. Patting off a layer of dust from a chair, you’re able to seat yourself as you take an old notebook in your hand.

Small doodles linger on the pages, all drawn by your younger self. You remember each of them, no matter how terrible they may look. It’s how you pass time while hiding in here. The low lighting from the cracks of the portrait gives you most of your light source, and occasionally you will add flame to the candle that rests on the top of the desk beside you.

You scowl at the dried black ink next to the quill pen, the feather beaten up and torn. It’s been years since you’ve last touched it. Maybe browsing through all the pages of your books won’t be so bad as you loiter in your small den.

“Princess Y/n.”

A spark of panic zaps through you like lightning in the sky on a stormy day. Surprised by the voice of none other than Jimin, your personal royal guard. You watch as fingers curl around the edge of the portrait-door and a beautiful, yet stern, face peeks through. His amber eyes catch you as they squint at your mischievous behavior. 

“I knew you would be hiding somewhere.” He comments as he pushes himself through the opening and into the room. Jimin wears the guards festive wear, a beautiful pink etched coat with cream leather hide armor. He’s sure to close the door behind him; he’s more stealthy than you can ever be. “Are you upset?”

“No,” you turn your head back to the book in your hands. The weight of his gaze on you is nearly suffocating. “I simply wanted solitude.”

“You know you are to be returned. They’re calling upon your brother shortly for his ceremony. It’s a big event for him,” his tone is low but he maintains a soft tenor to it. Jimin is far too kind toward you even though he’s meant to be a guard and nothing more. His exterior has toughened over the years, as it should to fill his part. Although, the sweeter half of him sticks out to you and perhaps that’s what you’ve held onto all these years.

“Sadly, I know.” You shut your eyes and sigh heavily, “I’m not quite in the celebratory mood. I would much prefer to be in my chambers.”

“That’s selfish of you.” Jimin’s hand comes to take away your book, placing it on the desk where it belongs. He bends down to level his face with yours. “You should be happy for your brother, he’s of age to carry out duties now. To be what he needs to be. Something you should understand.”

You hear the underlying hint Jimin gives you. He’s softly scolding you, as usual. 

At first you say nothing in response. Downcasting your eyes to your empty hands as you think what can be said to counter him, but you draw nothing.

You’re the third child in the family of four. A role where you feel invisible and forgotten. Always having second bests and hand-me-downs. Once your brother, who is a few years younger than you, sprouted from the womb of your mother – all chances of your favor flew out the window. As a male in this royal world is keen, any daughter is denied the spotlight. But you never craved a place to rule, or to do what a princess must do. Your oldest sister, the most responsible one of all, desires that for herself. You see it in the way she presents herself. Aces every test and diplomacy role she is given.

The second oldest is the fairest, she didn't need to do much to gain the popularity or attention she is given. It comes so unfairly natural to her thanks to the outstanding looks she’s been blessed with. A privilege only few and far between are given. Life for her is as simple as breathing, all she needs to do is point and ask.

Your younger brother is everything that your father waited for. Of course, your father, the King, treats all his children with love and passion. Keeps you sheltered, fed, and protected. However, the moment he received a bouncing baby boy – that tears any favoritism away from you or your sisters. A male has an unfair advantage in the royal family, it’s just how the world is.

“Princess –”

“– I know,” you unwillingly stand up from your chair. Jimin straightens himself as well, taken aback by your swift movement. “I want to retire after his ceremony,” you say curtly.

You take a single step toward the door as your hand reaches out to push against it, Jimin’s hand  grabs your wrist gently, like catching a delicate rose. Softly, he lowers your arm down as he steps before you with a concerned look on his face. His eyes search for signs of distress on your face.

“You’re upset,” he affirms.

“Nothing works in my favor,” you address with a choleric tone. Anger isn’t something you want resting on the surface, but it’s leaking out of the seams of your composure. “Sometimes, I truly despise being a royal daughter.”

You stare at the digits wrapped around your wrist, noticing how Jimin hasn’t let go of you yet. It feels cruel how you wish there was more meaning to the contact. Why can’t he hold you the way you long for him to?

Your eyes meet his with confusion and sadness. The pretty amber color still stands out in the low lighting, they’re beautiful to stare at. But you can’t read what’s going on in his mind. 

Jimin feels your sadness. He is connected to you deeply, little do you know. You can never know. It’s safer this way. Slowly, he releases your wrist letting his fingertips be the last thing that brushes against your skin. He can only comfort you so much without overstepping his boundaries. If he capsizes every time you give him those hopeless eyes, he’ll lose his placement in the guard and lose you indefinitely.

“Please,” he breathes, “We must go.”

Jimin pushes the hatch open steadily, peering out through the eyehole to make sure the coast is clear to sneak back into the festivities. He leaves space between the two of you as you walk side-by-side.

Silent tension surrounds you as your heels click with every step you take. There’s a dullness in your eyes, a lack of enthusiasm the closer you approach the center of the party. The amount of people here drains you even as you wear a kind smile.

Your little brother’s coronation will go quickly, you hope. Jimin’s words resound in your head, causing you to reflect on what he said.

“That’s selfish of you.”

You make your way to your designated chair at the family table quietly. The talks and commotions between the castle’s guests, family from far and wide, don’t phase you as you blur out the noise. The red liquid poured graciously in a chalice beside you becomes your saving grace; your delicate fingers grasp the cup and run over the smooth jewels embedded on the sides.

Your eyes find Jimin’s across the crowded room as he stands on guard near one of the walls. His hand rests over the handle of his sword casually, a weapon they choose first before shifting as a last resort. He can read the longing in your eyes with a mix of desperation and gloom. 

You wait to see his expected disapproving look. The one that tells you to pay attention to something else other than him – but you don’t. He stuns you confused as, instead of his typical stern look, he looks down at the ground. Deep in thought.

Are you truly selfish when nobody around you is selfless?

Your chamber is a sanctuary. Filled with all the necessities you need to live like royalty. An abundant amount of candles have been lit to brighten the room, giving it a soft aura. 

You wear your hair down, untied from the tight braids you wore for the majority of the night. Your nightgown, cream in color and silk to the touch, is loose in all the right places. The ceremony took its time as you waited to retire for the night with the little patience you have left. You’re positive plenty of men are still celebrating at their feast. 

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

A loud thud shakes the doors to your room, a verbal grunt can be heard. You look over at your maid who does the same as she slowly walks toward the noise. There's a scurry of traffic beyond your door as the two of you try to make out the words that are being shouted. You take a step with her, but with that single step you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye. Through the window you see a flash of red light. Smoke rises as pieces of the garden have been lit to flame. Upon closer inspection, you peer down your window into the once beautiful scenery to find brawls of fights. Men fighting enemies with swords, crossbows and guns.

Another thump hits the outside of your chamber’s doors and you twist your head to see your maid inches away from the handle, ready to pull.

“Don’t!” You turn frantic to shout at her.

But it is too late. Your maid already has her hand twisting the handle to pull the door open. But a force pressed the door faster than she anticipated – a body of a man standing guard slumped against the doorframe and now falling to the floor. A wound across his neck as blood smears across your family’s sigil on his leather chest plate.

Both you and your maid screech at the sight as you back away from the door. You can hear the commotion louder now as bodies rush past the halls as they run away from the intruders.

“Hide!” Your maid shoos you quickly and frantically while her first attempt of shutting your chamber’s door fails.

You’re not given a moment to think before you watch as two ruffians walk up to the door, one holding a flamed torch and a hand dagger as the other holds a handgun. They’re dirty from appearance, wearing torn up clothes but come armed with weapons that look like they belong to someone wealthy. They smile evilly, curling their lips at the sight of you as they advance on your maid.

“There’s a royal,” one comments in a ghoulish tone. They step over the body below them like it’s a fallen tree trunk. They laugh among each other, giggling at whatever is playing on in their minds. You definitely do not wish to know.

Your maid twists away, hoisting her skirt up high enough to let her legs lounge as she begins to run toward you. It provokes one of the men, making him chase her immediately as he finds it funny to stalk her. Threaten her with the slices he mimics with his dagger in the air.

Slowly, your feet have backed up along the path of your room. You make sure you keep as much furniture between you and the intruders. Your eyes remain open wide, trying so hard not to blink and miss any sudden movements.

You feel small compared to the man’s stature as he creeps closer and closer to you. Hectically, your hands reach around the tops of dressers and tables to find anything to use as a weapon. A letter opener? A pen? Anything to defend yourself from whoever these men are who impose your safe space.

More screams and shouts can be heard throughout the castle halls and outside. The place is being run down with bandits, unknown persons who you cannot identify from first glance. They wear close to all black attire, worn down from several years. Protected by pads and suitable armor, as if they collected stolen pieces and placed them together.

You hold your arms closer to your body with the heat of the males heavy gaze on you. His eyes look bloodshot as he studies your options of escape.

“Come here little royal,” he sneers while his beaten up boots scuff across the floor.

Your maid is chased across the wall, quickly making her way toward you as the other man follows her like a hunter. Herding his prey together before they set to kill.

They rush the two of you, forcing you to nearly trip over your own feet as your gown betrays you while you step on the very end of it. A small rip of fabric resounds but you’re in too much of a haste to notice from where.

Your maid screams in horror as you yell out for help. Your bodies fumble across the expanse of your chamber’s, trying to find the opportunity to rush out of the door if you can. To escape the men who run after you.

Where are the rest of your guards? What is happening and why are your werewolf guards not attacking? Who are these men and what do they have to attack the castle with? In all your years on this planet, you’ve never been caught in a situation like this. No intruder has ever made it past the front gates until now.

A knife is thrown in your direction, missing you but landing straight into the wall beside your head.

“Oops, guess I need to try that again,” you hear the male speak with malicious intent.

The other has gained enough momentum to grab your maid, pull her in as she struggles to fight him off. He’s rough, holding her arms as he pushes her against the wall. You're already rushing to her side, using your fists to hit the man on his arm and back.

“Get off of her!” you bawl, throwing your fist at him as fast as possible.

A hand grips your hair, yanking you back away from the two and onto the closest table. Your back hits the surface hard as the man presses you down. He threatens you with a dagger pointed at your face as his other hand holds you down by your shoulder.

The brute force immediately makes your eyes water as you stare up at the man in fear. You wrap your hands around his wrists to push him off, holding him off for as long as you can. Your kicks and screams do nothing to phase him, only fuels him.

You feel his hand slide to your throat; latch his ugly, dirty fingers around your neck. It’s brief, like a flash of lightning. But just as soon as he repositions himself, an arrow shoots straight into his head. Visibly shaken, you struggle to process the vicious man above you losing the life he has.

Your efforts of pushing begin to work as his lack of strength weakens by the second. A final push, not made by you – but from your personal guard, Jimin, knocks the man entirely off of you. He’s quick, already primed and prepped to shoot the other ruffian the second he turns away from your maid and to see his comrade passed out on the floor. Jimin launches another arrow with a flick of his finger, a perfect shot.

Both ruthless and merciless men seem to be dead, fallen to the floor of your chamber’s as pools of blood leak from their bodies.

You and your maid tremble in fear and anxiety. Frightened at the series of events and how the two of you were nearly brutally attacked.

Jimin wears streaks of blood across his face as his hair falls out of place. His beautifully tailored festive armor is now beaten and destroyed with stains. You look at him with confusion and anguish as reality sets in.

“Jimin,” you cry out in a broken sob. Your throat tightens and feels as if it’s being pricked by a dozen thorns while your hand runs up to touch the area where the man laid his fingers on.

“I’m sorry,” are the first words out of his mouth. Solemn and saddened. But he’s relieved to be here for you, even if he is cutting it short and close to being a second too late. 

It isn’t his fault the castle has been blindsided and an evil group has snuck their way inside its walls and started a reign of terror. But he takes blame for not being at your side every second that he should have been. Instead, he rushed to the frontlines once called upon. Tried to stop the invasion from penetrating deeper into the castle. 

In most cases this strategy works, but unfortunately tonight – it doesn’t.

But as the fighting continues and larger groups of people begin rushing in from all areas of the castle – equipped with tainted metals containing mountain ash and wolfsbane – the royal guards are not as prepared. A minor setback, yet it almost costs your life.

“I came as soon as I could,” he steps closer to you with sympathetic eyes. He’s hurt, more worried about how you are as he feels your dread and fear. “I’m so sorry.”

There’s still many battles being fought throughout the castle. People being slayed as guards protect as much as they can. Jimin helps you stand straight, holding you close to him as he’s escorting both your maid and you out of your chamber’s.

“Jimin,” you repeat as you hold onto him, wrapping your hands desperately around him. “Who are they?”

He brings the two of you deeper into your chamber, rushing you to a secret doorway that leads to a hidden passage. Your castle is littered with these; most guards know several entrances but not a lot of exits. It’s a maze down there; dark, cold, and gloomy as well. As a child, you would wander through some just to see how far you could reach without cowering out.

“They must be from the South. They’re fighting with wolfsbane. Their weapons are laced with it.”

It’s common knowledge that wolfsbane is rare near these grounds. It’s ordinary for them to grow down South, but they can be imported. Your family is known for being guarded by werewolves; so an attack like this must be heavily planned.

“Remember the passageways?” Jimin grunts as he pushes both you and your maid toward a panel against the wall. It’s colored like an archway, but the third one can be open with a twist of a lever. Specifically the sconce hanging to the left of it. “I need you to escape through them.”

You hear the falter in Jimin’s voice momentarily, how he sounds like he staggered his breath.

“Are you hurt?” You ask alarmingly. Your eyes frantically scan over his exterior, looking for any noticeable signs of a wound.

“Princess, I need you to go through the passageways,” he turns the lighting fixture swiftly. The secret door clicks open, a cool gust of air puffs through and hits against your skin. “Don’t worry about me. I need to protect you and the rest of your family.”

Your maid understands, already stepping through as she’s pulling you with her. Jimn is a guard, he needs to go and maintain his duty. Your maid is a servant – she is here to assist you until she can no longer. She begs you to step quickly, down the stone stairs into the pit of the passages.

“Jimin, no!” You grip tighter on his forearm as he tries to shrug you off of him. Blood tarnishes your cream colored nightgown as you’re pulled away from Jimin. It must be from those Jimin has fought already. “Come with me!”

Jimin takes your chin in his hand and inspects the distress on your face. Even when rushed, worried about your safety and life, he looks at you like he’s lost in your eyes. The gentle touch of his fingertips feels serene, featherlight even though they’re calloused through the years of combat. 

He’s moving you back into the passageway, gripping the door with his other hand to shut it on you when the moment comes. There’s displeasure spilling out of him only because he is infuriated by the way you stubbornly won’t see the concern for yourself.

“I need to protect the family. This is me protecting you,” he speaks sternly. “Please listen to me, princess,” he exhales slowly. His eyes flicker across your features with tenderness, “I am not losing you. Use the passageways,” he reminds you. “Exit at the stables. I will meet you there. You know which way to go?”

You stare at him dumbfounded at first. Like time is slowing down, but you cannot shake the feeling that you won’t see him again. You don’t feel convinced.

“B-But –”

“Go!” Jimin practically growls out his demand to you. In an instant, his amber eyes shine with a blue ring around his irises. It’s the first time Jimin has ever used that timbre with you, making you jolt away with shock. 

He warns you to watch your step and stay on the correct path toward the stables. Keep close to your maid and stay quiet. He rips off his cavalier shoulder cape, draping it around your shoulders to keep you warm as you descend into the chilly pathways. Jimin closes the door promptly, forcing you to turn with your maid and to escape to safety. Your heart ricochettes inside your chest, pounding erratically as you rush.

Throughout the narrow hallways, dripping with leaking water spouts and cobwebs, you hear the signs of savage wolf growls and barks as your royal guard begin shifting as their last resort. Cries of pain and fighting scare you further as you follow the lead of your maid, wondering how you’ll survive what comes ahead. The thin slippers still on your feet dampen with every hurried step you take as you hold Jimin’s cape tighter against your frame to stay as warm as possible.

“I am not losing you,” replays inside your head and inside your heart.

Moonlight shines from above as your maid cracks open a hardened rock exitway. You came across many forks in the maze of the castle's passageways, but you remember from your past the correct ways to take. The two of you are at the stables, you can smell the mixture of horse and hay in the air. The area is unhit from the onslaught of violence for now.

“Shall we take a horse?” Your maid suggests as she creeps behind a bundle of stacked hay.

“Jimin said he’ll meet us here,” you remind her. 

The chill of the outside runs straight through your body. You curse to yourself at your poor choice of attire.

Together, the two of you watch the distance of all the violence. You see bloodshed with many reinforcements coming from every side of the castle. The thought of Jimin being caught in this mess sends a shiver down your spine. Wolves – your family's guards – have shifted to their creature form. They’re larger than any wild wolf; standing on all four limbs taller than most humans. 

They’re very swift at responding to the attackers, taking them out one by one. But you know the attackers are fighting against them with poisonous tactics – an advantage to go against such beasts. With these weapons, the werewolves near invulnerability, speed, and strengths are weakened once hit with the toxins. You can already witness it with a few of your guards.

“We’re still inside the castle walls, Princess. We need to get out of here fast,” she insists. Her eyes scan around for an opening, an escape route for the two of you. You’ll have to be fast.

“He knows we are here!” You yell at her in a hushed tone. “I’m not leaving unless it’s with –”

Just as you attempt to finish your sentence, the loud sound of wood snapping through the entrance door interrupts you. Men rush in, manically screaming in an uproar as the flames of their torches begin touching the fodder in the stables. Setting the straw ablaze in a matter of seconds.

You and your maid slouch back into a corner, away from view for as long as you can. Horses neigh with anger, jumping and kicking as the brightness and heat of fire creeps toward them. You cannot fathom the thought of losing these beautiful warhorses as they’re each tied to their own box.

“Release them,” you whisper to your maid before you frantically get up from your position and reach for the first horse.

Your soft hands flick up the lever to the wooden door, opening it up for the horse to run through and stumble toward the exit of the stables.

The maid begs you to stay hidden, but you refuse with stubbornness. In the same breath, you hear a shriek from her as you are in the midst of lifting another lever. The attackers have noticed her and shortly spot you as well.

She looks at you with panic, “Run!”

In seconds, she is being grabbed once again by these aggressors. Forced down with a hard shove as she hits the ground. You shout, scream, and cry at the men who flock over toward her. A pitchfork near you is the first thing you see to use as a weapon. Surely you can scare someone off with the points of the tines. 

A bellowful growl grows from a stampede of three wolves bursting onto the scene. They’re far too fast for your eyes to keep up, seeing flashes of their fur dashing around you to strike your attackers. Their teeth bare as they snarl and bite into the flesh of the men, claws digging through the fabrics and skin.

One wolf is nearly all black, slicked fur making it shine in the night. Another has a warm russet color, speckled with hues of beige but warm under the ember of the fires around you. The last wolf is your wolf – you know him far too well. Brighter shades of light brown are in his face as the rest of his pelt darkens into a deep dark, chocolate color. His amber eyes, now sparked with blue, casts over to you briefly as he takes out an enemy, his paw stepping hard against his chest and pressing down.

It’s like whiplash with how fast the royal guards cleared out the stables as the fire consumes the fixtures around you. Smoke fills the air, rising heavily as thick clouds form. Pieces of the loft areas begin to break and fall as the other roped up horses huff and puff.

The stark black wolf is the one lifting your maid off the ground as it nudges her. She’s wounded, you can tell as red covers the fabric of her left arm. You take a step toward her, wanting to console and help – but in return you are barked at by Jimin. He rushes toward you, his speed frightening you as you backpedal away from the area. He stares hard at you, growling in a low tone as ashes fall behind him.

He’s moving you away, wanting you out of the area. The other two wolves bark in his direction, some form of communication you cannot understand as Jimin glances back and responds with his own call. 

The russet colored wolf jumps toward Jimin as you watch your maid latch onto the black fur of the other. She gives you a sympathetic look, mouthing the words ‘get out of here’ to you.

A large beam from above falls and crashes in the middle of the stables, breaking other fixtures in its path. Ember’s rise from the burning building with a massive gust of wind as you turn your face away from the crash.

“Jimin!” You cough as your arms shield you. Your eyes tickle in pain from the smoke, the fire’s brightness doesn’t help either.

You can feel the brush of fur against you as a heavy body presses into your front. You smell the wilderness immediately as you fall forward, burying your face and arms into Jimin’s coat. He nudges you with his shoulder and a grunt. Somehow able to understand what he’s saying.

Quickly, you pull yourself up along his back like one would do for a horse. Your face remains embedded into his fur as you wrap your arms around his neck, hooking your fists onto his coat to anchor yourself.

You move with the russet colored wolf as he clears out the path ahead of you and Jimin. Taking down any attacker standing in the path to escape. It’s difficult to hold onto a wolf, feeling your limbs tighten around Jimin as hard as you possibly can just to stay on top as he dashes through the terrain.

His goal is to get you out of here safely, remove you from the premises. He brings you farther and farther away from the castle and closer to the woods. The last glimpse you dare to make shows you the image of the russet wolf turning back toward the scorched castle grounds.

You pray for the good safety of everyone. Hope the castle is still together after the royal guard protects and saves the night.

It’s freezing as Jimin runs through the thicket of the wilderness, deeper than you ever dare to go alone. You keep your head down, pressed into his back as bitter cold breezes over the surfaces of your body that aren't protected by Jimin’s warmth. The nightgown you wear is thin, not topped with layers among layers of fabrics and wiring like a corseted dress would have. Not to mention the tingling burn to your bare feet as the winter air touches them. But he is warm. A heated beast beneath you, emitting a comforting temperature the more your fingers curl into the roots of his bristle fur.

His breath is labored, chest heaving as his limbs carry you fast. Jimin zips through the rough terrain of the earthy woods, jumping and dodging the obstacles in his way. You fear the tightness of your muscles as you cling on to him, feeling the exhaust of your body as they sore.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been a passenger on Jimin’s back. Everything has happened so quickly. It isn’t until you hear the noises of strangers. The padding of snow under Jimin’s paws begins sounding different. Now stepping on hardened ground.

Your eyes blink open as you take in the surroundings passing by. Glowing lights in tapered windows of wooden cabins flash in seconds. Secured doors and moss growth along the sides of several cabin-like housings. 

Jimin leads with a howl, rushing toward the only place he knows will keep you the most protected. He slows his pace as he draws near, beckoning with a warning call for the door to swing open and allow him in. You find yourself entering with him, a soft warmth from a low burning fireplace greets you as the two of you enter.

You feel the way Jimin stumbles, his body catching up with how taxed he must be. The way his shoulders shrug tells you to dismount him as his mouth pants labored breaths. Carefully, you slide until your toes touch the floor below you.

“Jimin?” Your first concern comes out worriedly. Your hands still roam his fur as you notice the warmth of red liquid staining your palms – even pieces of your clothes. It’s enough to make you feel uneasy about the open wounds you fail to find through his pelt.

He’s quick to move from you, tripping over himself as he walks deeper toward the back of the cabin. A low growl rumbles from his chest as a warning, unwanted contact from you.

You take a step to follow him, seeing how hurt he is – it only wrenches your heart tighter. Your eyes grow wider the further he steps away from you, scurrying himself as he barks in the air for help.

A soft pair of hands hold onto your elbow, keeping you from the beast in pain. You snap your head toward the contact, searching for the reason why you’ve been halted.

“Don’t.” A woman with dark, long wavy hair speaks in a low tone. Her skin is aged but glows beautifully. Bundled up in layered clothes, she wears a worried look just like you. But it’s because she is stressed about your concern over the wolf in agony. “He will be alright.”

The door behind her has already been shut tight as the woman urges you to sit on the closest couch. Your eyes flick back to Jimin who continues to pad down the end of the hallway, twisting into a new shape as his body slowly transforms back into a human state. It’s an image you never expected to see, completely magical and out of this world as you catch glimpses of a wolf morphing into man.

His deep groans turn more audible as his real voice is able to break free.

“Wolfsbane –” he curses out into the open as he’s hunched over. He breathes heavily, open mouth catching air for his lungs as his fingers now claw at the bloody abrasion on the left side of his chest.

From your spot on the sofa, you witness Jimin suffering in a fetal position with no clothes. He’s turned to the side, hiding what he can in his vulnerable state. His long hair, usually kept neatly pulled back, falls dramatically across his face. His nose scrunches as his lips pull back to show his seething teeth.

“Jimin!” You begin to stand up, but the woman holds her hands out before you.

“Stay, Princess! Please!” Her voice is soft.

She tries her best to be respectful, honoring your title even in the severity of a situation. “I’m his mother.” She claims before gripping a knitted wool blanket off the back of a chair and rushing over to her son.

You blink, stunned as you process all the movements and information playing out in front of you.

Jimin coughs as his head presses into the floor. You watch in horror the way Jimin’s body rejects the burn of the wolfsbane that entered his system. Jerking and moving in his place as some mystical natured element helps overcome his pain. Jimin’s mother places the blanket over Jimin, shielding him from your innocent eyes. She squats beside him, hand placing over his forehead as his face twists with strain.

“Fight it,” she encourages as she pushes back his bangs to inspect his eyes. They’re reddened on the edges. The infection attacks deeply within him. His blue shiny irises that come out when he taps into his wolf form is stationary, shining brightly as he internally battles the poisonous herb. “Push it out, you can do it.”

You catch him staring at you as he overcomes this annoyance. It’s not enough to be deadly for him, but it is a good amount to weaken his overall state for the time being. His body fights to heal properly, but he’ll be ready soon.

The first initial wave of pain eases on Jimin. You don’t notice it due to the blanket covering his body, but a small pool of tainted blood leaks out of his wound. Spoiled by the wretched poison. It’s what his body needs to do, reject it and remove it entirely from him.

“Can I help in any way?” You stand and step toward him as his panting calms.

“No, no!” Jimin’s mother’s hands shoot out, shooing you. “You don’t need to do anything! His body is healing,” she reassures. “It may not make any sense, but he is going to be good. Just give him some time. Wolves have an accelerated healing power.”

“But –” you begin to counter. You feel helpless, powerless. Your heart hurts from seeing Jimin in such a distraught state. You can’t shake the image out of your head.

“Stop,” you hear Jimin breathing out. His tenor voice aching as his body shivers. “Stay over there,” he begs. “Just give me a second, Princess.”

All you can do is wait. Watch the way the man you care for struggles with himself as his supernatural body convulses and kicks out the vicious wolfsbane as he rapidly recovers. His grunts and groans do nothing to help, making you worry even more. 

When Jimin finally settles, he lays limp on the floor. Relief washes over him as the surging pain seizes and his body begins to feel like normal once again. Sweat has slickened the roots of his hair, surely the rest of his skin expelled other toxins.

He starts to lift himself off the floor, using his arms to push him up to a sitting position first – then enough to stand. He clutches the blanket around him. Holding it tight around his waist and covering his lower region.

“Take your time,” his mother whispers. She, too, stands with him. Using her hands to help guide him if he wavers on his feet. He’s taller than her, but you can tell she’s strong from the way she helps hold her son up.

“I have to go back,” he says to her, but stares at you.

Jimin takes a few tentative steps until he catches the motion easilier. He walks over to you in concern, abandoning the dripped blood on the floorboard from where he once laid. You're shivering in place, not realizing it yourself.

“Mom, would you mind finding something the princess can change into? Clean her up a little as well?”

You waste no time rushing yourself to him regardless of Jimin pleading for you not to. That doesn’t stop the way your arms wrap around his torso, feeling the warmth of his smooth skin as you hold him. Your head curls into his shoulder as his free arm surrounds your back, pulling you against him.

“Please, be good. Back up,” he slowly walks you in his embrace. 

You feel the rumble of his voice through his chest as you press desperately against him, not wanting to let him go just yet. He’s homely like your favorite hiding place back in the castle or the comfort of your bed after a long day of duties. It feels right to be with him as your mind speaks these words of nonsense.

“Don’t leave again,” you beg as your heartstrings twinge with sadness. You think latching onto Jimin even more would be the answer of his choice, but alas it is not. His arm is placing you down on the sofa for you to sit as he kneels on the floor. Even when you try grabbing at him, he politely pushes your hands away.

“Mom,” Jimin calls out as his hands grip the bottoms of your bare feet. He runs his palms across them, feeling how frigid they’ve become. Jimin ignores the way your cold hands try to turn his head to look up at you, stubbornly keeping it down and focused on your toes. When he fails to hear a response, he shouts again, “Mom!”

“Jimin!” You call to get his attention, fingers running through his thick locks to expose his face. Cupping his cheeks doesn’t suffice either, even your attempt to tilt his jaw fails. He isn’t budging from his position.

His mother comes out of another room with an abundant amount of clothes. Each of them look heavy, thick. Enough to hopefully keep you bundled up in the chill of a winter’s night.

Jimin squeezes your feet with his hands, trying to circulate more blood flow as he tries to warm you. He suffers knowing you’re freezing, not in an ideal state. But he can also feel the way your heart pangs with confusion and hurt. He can smell the fear radiating off of your body as you process so much.

“Would you mind changing into these?” His mother comes into your view. She begins placing pieces out in order to dress. Layers ready at your will. “I can wash your nightgown. Rid you of those stains. I can try patching up the tears in your skirt.”

The doleful look in your eyes tells her enough at one glance. She sighs as a tear trickles down the bridge of your nose.

“Why won’t you look at me?” Your voice cracks mid sentence as you stare helplessly at Jimin.

It’s languid the way his eyes flick up to you, shrouded with sadness behind his lashes.

“You’re freezing,” he states.

“I’m more hurt that you won’t let me do anything for you,” you respond with irritation. “I’m fine. You’re not.” You gesture to his exposed chest, muddied with swipes of blood on his left side.

“There’s nothing there anymore. The wound is sealed already. It’s just drying blood.”

He looks down back at your feet, finally noticing his stained hands – how he’s holding you with his own filth. The thought upsets him entirely.

Abruptly, Jimin stands. Turning away from you and rushing over to the fireplace to place more wood in the burning embers. He tightens the blanket around his waist, pacing across the floor of the cabin for anything he thinks you need before he departs.

“Run a bath,” he tells his mother. “It’ll warm her up faster. Then she can change into the clean clothes.”

“I don’t want that,” you speak. “I’ll take the clothes as they are. But Jimin –”

“– I need to go back,” he whips around in his spot. Jimin is fast on his feet, gathering some more blankets and gripping your hand. “My old room is just over here. Make yourself at home. I know this isn’t ideal but it will keep you safe and warm. My mother,” Jimin glances over at her, “She’ll be a great help. Please, take care of the Princess before I return.”

You rip your hand away from Jimin while stubbornly holding your place on the couch. It’s an act you never suspected yourself to do so harshly. The appalled look on your face puzzles Jimin. Makes him look down at you in silence, awaiting for you to speak.

“No,” you stare back. “Why can’t you just stay?”

“I have a duty,” he responds just as fast. “One to serve the royal family.”

“I am the royal family!”

“I am a part of the entire pack fighting for the kingdom right now. I must be with them.”

The frustration causes your blood to boil under your skin. Heat rises to your cheeks as anger takes over. He’s staring you down. Jimin is right after all. But yet again, without him even speaking, you can hear his voice repeat the words ‘that’s selfish of you’. It rattles inside your head as your lips quiver with emotion.

You turn your head, eyes filled with sorrow dropping to your lap. The scolding fire from his bright eyes hurts you deeply. Yet he doesn’t have intentions to upset you, Jimin only wants to protect you.

“Go.”

The single word comes out so cold, so unlike your usual tone. It catches Jimin off guard.

The entire time Jimin’s mother stands in silence, trying to read the room herself as the two of you cast a tense environment. She has no place to utter a single word, not here. For a moment, she shares a cautious glance with her son. Something in her eyes that tells him that he needs to do something – say something.

“Prin –”

“– I do not want to see you.” Your voice sounds meek, on edge of falling over in the pool of emotion laying inside of you. If only he can understand how important you’ve made him in your life. How special he is and the comfort that comes with him when he’s around. Imagining him returning beaten up again bothers you. Thinking he might not come back at all is even worse.

“Just, go.” You command.

“Y/n,” Jimin speaks in a gentle voice. He steps closer to you with a heavy heart, “I’m sorry.” Slowly, he leans down to level his head with yours. It’s alright with him that you refuse to look back. Jimin knows he has your attention regardless. You feel the soft graze of his knuckle run along the edge of your jaw, surprised from the tender touch. “I really am sorry,” he smiles faintly as he leans in just enough to place his plump lips delicately on your temple.

Jimin leaves your side, turns on his heel and swiftly moves out the front door. It’s a rush from the way his body forms back into wolf and his paws press into the ground, carrying him further away from you. He wants to be here for you, but his loyalty lies deep to the guards and your family. Jimin knows you are safe, under the protection of his mother and the community surrounding the cabin. He would never just leave you.

A gust of wind blows in from outside, the chill reminding you how low the temperatures are. Jimin’s mother kindly shuts and locks the door. Silence stills softly in the ambiance of the crackling fireplace.

It breaks you knowing Jimin isn’t staying by your side. The rational side of your brain screams at you, telling you he is doing the right thing. But the emotional soft boundaries you have, that are more tender than a baby bird, weakens the further Jimin is. Like a piece of your heart constantly stripping from you. Cracking and bleeding from unreciprocated love.

The gentle face of Jimin’s mother approaches you, her soft hand places it upon your shoulder to gain your attention.

“Princess,” she begins with a kind tone. “Please know, we’ll do anything to protect you. You’re in a safe place now. My name is Mira. Let’s have you change into something warmer. I can make some tea as well.”

Her words do not stop the slow streams of tears dripping from your face. You wipe away each of them the moment they pass the curve of your cheeks, frustration and heartbreak laying deep within you.

When will he come back, you begin to wonder. Will he come back? Flashes of the ruffians and ruthlessness they project remind you how dangerous they are. What damages have they done with your family's castle? To your precious belongings?

And then it reminds you… You haven’t thought about your family. Your father and siblings, are they safe and sound? Are they escorted off the property by the guards as they clean up the mess of the intruders? How selfish of you, truly, to only think of yourself and Jimin.

Your realization serves you like the small piece of bread and tea served to you on a platter from Mira. It makes you cry more about how childish and foolish your mind is.

“He does love you,” Mira speaks again. Her eyes crinkle with wrinkles as she smiles. “He does the things he does because he loves you.”

Jimin yearns to return to your side the moment his feet step out of his childhood home. He rushes back to the castle grounds, reconnecting with the king's royal guard and abolishing any trespasser standing in his way. He fought for hours with righteousness and duty, tearing apart men limb from limb as he dodges the poisonous silver weapons laced with a venomous herb. When the time comes that the invasion of hoodlums either retreat or have been eliminated by the brute force of the royal guard – Jimin doesn’t hesitate to rush back to you. 

He’s been given the blessing from his higher-ups. Notified that the castle will be on high alert while the rest of your family has been scattered to their own locations of safety. They too have their own personal guards who stand their grounds and hover their sides. What matters now is that the kingdom is still intact even after such a brutal attack. They are not overthrown and they will continue on as supreme rulers.

As for any hostages held from the invaders, they will be judged appropriately and prodded for questions and answers before the royal court. Jimin has seen this many times, but never to this extent. This is the first time in his line of duty that the castle was attacked – but he is thankful for the outcome.

He wouldn’t know what would have happened if it turned out different.

His chest heaves with heavy breaths as he slows his pace the moment his eyes lay on the door to his mother’s house. Inside he knows you are waiting, impatiently he assumes. But seeing your face again will give him a sense of relief. A calming vortex that sinks deep inside his body and warms his nerves.

Jimin’s blood pumps in his ears as he calls out to his mother in the form of telepathy – a unique trait wolves have with one another. An inner circle of connections that allows wolves to speak to other wolves. Mira is ready by the door, twisting the handle and allowing Jimin a swift entrance into the house.

He tries to step quietly as his heavy wolf form causes the wood flooring to creak under his steps. His pads resound a soft thud as he walks. At first, he expects to walk straight to his room as he remembered he offered you his place to rest. But as his nose picks up your immediate scent, he realizes that you’re still resting on the couch right in front of the fire.

“She hasn’t moved,” Mira murmurs under her breath. Jimin’s mother stayed up all hours he was gone, watching and keeping you company. “I’ve given her plenty of tea and washed her face with a heated cloth. I’ve kept adding more wood to the fire to help. Even in her sleep, she still shivers. She may have hypothermia,” she warns.

He wouldn’t put it past him if this is the case. You were never made for enduring February winters in just a nightgown after all. Barefooted may he add.

Jimin walks over you, his nose sniffing at your skin to seek any discomfort your body may radiate. You lay there bundled up as much as you can under heavy fabrics of wool and fur. Jimin smiles to himself fondly as he sees the way you tuck your chin into the blanket and cover your nose.

A tentative look is shared between Jimin and his mother before he nudges his head against your arms.

You rouse from your slumber momentarily and your immediate reaction is to tighten your body and move to a more comfortable position. However, Jimin doesn’t allow you. He nudges you again and this time he digs his nose between the crack of your arms, prying them open so he can slot his head through and force your arm around his neck.

Mumbling in your sleep, you groan at the annoyance of being woken up. But when you feel the soft bristles of fur against your face and the undeniable warmth coming from them, you cling onto whatever is pressing against you.

It wakes you further. Enough to make you register enough to know Jimin is in your arms right now. Your fingers cling onto him tightly, screwing them into knots as you inhale deeply into the side of his neck. He smells like the frozen forest mixed with burning embers; the smell of smoke clogging between his roots.

His warmth is what reminds you of home. It forces happiness to leak out of your eyes as a warm tear drips onto his fur the more you bury your face into him. His movement forces you to wake up, urging you with a tug to get off the couch and follow him.

Leisurely, you hang from him while he ushers you to the other room – his room. Your feet stumble as the two of you pass Mira. You don’t care how clumsy you look, you’re just happy to have Jimin back.

“Jimin,” his mother tries speaking in a hushed tone. “Remember who you are to her.”

He doesn’t stop his stride as he enters his old bedroom with you nearly hanging off of him. It’s upkept well thanks to his mom. Nothing moved or changed over the years. With a few more nudges and suggestive pushes, he has you falling into place upon the mattress. It’s low to the ground, easy for him to step on it even in wolf form and lay comfortably as you attach yourself to his back. 

This form is undoubtedly the warmest. And with his wolf form he serves as a natural furnace for you. He doesn’t mind the way your fingers dig into his fur or the way your cold body presses desperately against his. He allows anything that will warm you up.

His eyes meet his mother’s as she leans in to shut the bedroom door. Words and feelings cannot describe his unfair bond to you – but with werewolves, they have a mutual understanding of how things work.

Jimin groans with a huff before putting his head down on the bed. He stays awake, alert, and listens to the sounds and conversations running through his head. Even when the threat is over, he still stays guard. Ready to pounce on anything that comes toward you.

For now, you may sleep comfortably. Jimin will be able to tell you later about the results of the castle and your family. 

You’re greeted by coldness as you toss and turn. The fresh chill pricks your cheeks, jolting your nerves to wake when you want nothing more than sleep. Chirps of wild birds sing outside of the window that casts a dull ray of sun into the room. It still looks dark out. There’s also an ache in your joints and muscles, particularly in your neck.

Perhaps you slept awful,  used to having your luxury linens and perfectly fluffed pillows. Instead you spent the night balled up, tight, against the only thing that holds heat.

The fire isn’t what saves you from the brisk cold of winter. It is the tender bristles of a wolf’s fur that hordes blissful heat, warmer than a copper pan filled with rocks warmed at the edge of a fire.

But you are not welcomed with that same softness of Jimin’s fur anymore. When you turn again, you realize you press against the smooth surface of his broadened back. Black ink decorates down his spine in the phases of the moon as your eyes focus from the haze of sleep. Does it make any sense to see the man you adore, shirtless with his back to you in the same bed? 

Absolutely not.

Your clogged head tries to clear the fog of confusion as you edge away from Jimin. He’s tucked under the covers, just as you. His chest rises and falls slowly, in a deep sleep. He’s more exhausted than you, his body fought all night. It makes sense he finally collapsed into a resting state; relaxed and dare you say, delicate. The branded ink shines subtly as his skin, miraculously still smooth, feels even warmer under your tender fingertips. Slowly, you trace invisible patterns onto his skin, mesmerized by the way he doesn’t pull away from you.

You feel guilty for snuggling up closer to him, knowing very well he isn’t in a conscious state for him to put you back in your place like all the other times. But you feel drawn in and addicted to his warmth and security in such a tender position.

Jimin inhales and exhales deeply, shifting his head when he feels your fingers tickle the nape of his neck. He shifts in his sleep, moving his body enough to force you to freeze. His hand reaches back, swatting away your hand as if it is a dainty bug crawling on him. But he realizes it’s nothing but a hand – your hand – and instead, he grips it. Pulling it around him and stretching your arm across his torso so that he can hold it against his chest. Jimin curls himself in a fetal position, dragging you flush against his back.

“Stop tickling me,” he murmurs in a groggy voice. He huffs out a small burst of air, humor laced with it.

Your forehead presses into his spine, a small smile creeping up on your lips.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Silence falls once again except for the subtle sounds of Jimin’s breathing. You could stay like this forever if you were able to. Ignore all responsibilities of life and stay with Jimin. Deep down, you secretly wish this. Having his protection and solace, bringing you solitude and clarity. You know that he is all you will ever need. He’s been exactly everything you need him to be in your life, even when times get tough and he guides you to do something you’re stubbornly against. It’s all for your well-being. Your overall happiness. Jimin has never steered you down the wrong path; even if it’s the path you wouldn’t pick yourself.

He is strong in many ways you aren’t. Rational and accountable. You know he will do everything in his power to let you have the perfect life and he will never leave you.

This feeling of unfulfillment with your heart always reminds you how a large piece of him belongs there. No matter how much room you make for your family and potential suitors that come your way. Nothing will fill the undeniable love you have toward your personal royal guard.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. This time with a different reason.

You’re apologizing for yourself. For the position you put yourself in even though you never win the fight with your emotions. How you cannot control this bond between the two of you and how you cannot change the way you feel toward him. You know you could never be with a wolf, let alone your own personal guard. The years between you doesn’t matter either. Jimin still looks as you first remember him, minus the added tattoos, scars and array of hair styles he’s sported. He has always been your guard, a figure to look up to, a brother, and a best friend without being them at the same time.

The connection you feel with Jimin is unexplainable. A natural magnetic draw you feel. A compelling force screaming at you that this – he – is exactly what your mind, body, and soul needs.

“Get some more rest,” Jimin urges as he squeezes your hand a little bit tighter.

“I am being honest with you,” you declare.

“So am I,” Jimin’s sleepy voice seeps through.

Your small tiff stirs Jimin awake. He turns slowly, still maintaining his hold on your hand as he faces you. The small puff of his cheeks shows you how tired he must be as his eyes remain closed. Jimin leans in, pushing your head into his chest as he rests his face into the top of your head.

“Rosemary,” he speaks out loud. He inhales slowly, admiring the sweet scent of the herb used to wash your hair every night. “It suits you so much.”

You feel a flush of warmth coursing through your body in such an intimate position. You have never been this close or tangled with Jimin like this before. There’s faint scars across his chest from what you can see, memories of past battle wounds that cut too deep perhaps.

“Are you hurt?” You question. Wondering how his body never correctly healed these specific marks.

“Not anymore,” he hums as he pulls you in tighter.

You can hear the faint beating of his heart as you twist your head to lay against his chest. It thumps calmly, like a lullaby whispering in your ear.

“Why are you here?” You dare to question. 

A heavy thought that’s been weighing on your mind for far too long. You want to thank him for welcoming you into his solitude and keeping you warm throughout the night. Even then, you hardly remember moving from the couch to this bed. Jimin sharing a bed with you doesn’t make any sense to you. Especially how he rests with no clothes on; assumingly you believe as the blankets cover more than your eyes can see.

“Warmth,” he responds. “I had to keep you warm. But I fell asleep.”

“Why are you still here then…?”

Jimin exhales deeply. He still rests as much as he can even with your quizzing questions.

“I’m pretending I’m still dreaming.”

“Dreaming?” You blink.

“Yes.” Jimin’s hand gingerly raises to stroke the side of your head, brushing off any stray locks. His palm is so warm against you, the contact heating you instantly. “A dream. Would you like me to leave?”

“No,” you blurt out faster than you expected. “I just don’t understand,” you try leaning back to look at his face.

“Princess,” he tsks. “How can I explain this?” He questions himself more than you. Jimin places his lips on your forehead and rests them there as he contemplates his words. “A wolf cannot be mixed with a royal. But you desire a wolf. And a wolf desires you.” He hesitates with the next sentence that leaves his mouth. “However, it will never be allowed. And thus… a dream.”

“You dream of this?” You ask, stunned.

“Don’t you?” He huffed a laugh. “I know you do. There are times that I can read it all over your pretty face. I can feel it too.”

“I-I,” you feel flustered. Your feathers fluffed every which way as Jimin speaks so carelessly of such a sensitive subject.

“I know how you feel for me,” he states. “I’m sorry you do. Even when I try to keep you on the right path, show you your responsibilities and guide you to your title's destiny… you found a sanctuary in me.”

Jimin continues to stroke your face with his thumb, his nose breathes out hot air against your forehead. He caresses you tenderly, holds you dear to him as if he is afraid to let you go.

“I’ve… I have always loved you,” you confess. Swallowing thickly as your throat closes up with emotion. Jimin allows you to slide your arms around him again.

“I know. I can feel everything you feel,” he sighs. “Your happiness. Your sadness. That painstaking broken heart every time you’re forced to live your reality.”

He smiles softly against your skin, peppering small kisses where his lips rest.

“I also feel the way you can’t control your emotions. How you constantly battle with what’s right and wrong. How not a single person draws your attention more than I do. I can’t really explain how I can feel these things,” he tilts your head to look down into your eyes. “It won’t make any sense.”

In the soft morning light, his features are more admirable. His skin glows beautifully, like a natural highlight illuminating off of the edges of his face. Jimin cracks open his eyes, only slightly, to peer down at your innocent expression. A face he’s seen for many years after being scolded or pressed for answers. The beauty in his eyes, that crisp amber hue, shifts a shade darker as they land on your parting lips.

“Jimin, I don’t want this to be a dream.”

You’re honest about it. The aura of intimacy is fueling the room so purely, it’s nearly smothering. Jimin allows his walls to break down for you to enter; let’s you in his space even when it goes against everything the two of you know.

His thumb flicks your bottom lip, feeling the soft flesh under his digit. He can feel the natural draw, how his body is aching with a tantalizing need to kiss you. To have you, just for now, before he must go back to reality.

“I’ll do anything for you,” he declares as he looks down at you sadly. “I devoted myself the very first moment I saw you.” His breath shakes as he lets out a breath he was holding.

“Princess,” he begins, the small curve of his lips upturning. He knows this is dangerous, it’s not allowed. Years of pining and rejecting you, fearing the system of the world and the way of life, he’s taking his one and only opportunity to be selfish. A thing you know so very well. Jimin leans down, lips nearly brushing yours, “Please forgive me.”

Your lips press together in a gentle embrace. He pours his unannounced love for you with this kiss; all those years of pent-up, hopeless desires and unfathomable attachment finally burst through with the only way he can show you. 

There’s no way of telling how long your kiss lasts; and eternity sounds like an understatement. Your breath hitches in your throat, surprised by the act and realism of Jimin – the man you’ve grown to love throughout all these years – has committed such a sinful, yet delightful, treason for the sake of his own greed. The same act you do not disgust, appall, or dislike. You greet it, after a few moments of shock, with happiness. A passion of feeling what you pined for all this time. Acceptance, understanding, and need.

Jimin’s warm fingers run along the side of your face and down the length of your arm. “Pretend it’s just a dream.” He smiles in between kisses.

A subtle tear breaks the brim of your eye as you capture Jimin in a passionate, breathtaking kiss. You bring him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and tasting his tongue in your mouth. 

When it’s just a dream, you’re allowed to cross the lines of right and wrong. Do the things you want to do, impulsively or not. That’s why you don’t bother to wait when you desperately cling to him, tangling your soft fingers through his messy hair. You feel the way Jimin presses himself into you, not a care of his royal guard status or what your title is. He brings his love out to another being – you.

You feel the gentle pull of his hands at the lining of your padded clothes. There’s so much keeping you bundled, but he’s sure he can keep you warm with his body. His hands roam under the fabrics, feeling the touch of the soft skin of your hip. He skirts his hand up your back, pressing his palm onto you to drag you into him.

“Are you sure?” You question him as if you’re being fooled. Tricked into thinking this truly is a dream and not something you will remember.

“I’ve never wanted something so desperately,” he admits with no embarrassment. “So many times I’ve had to tell you to look away from me. Entertain these other suitors… It hurts. But I know I will always be there for you even if your feelings aren’t as they are now. Even if you didn’t feel for me. I can’t help that. I’m bound to you.”

Your eyes roam the expanse of his body that you can see against the pale sheets of his old mattress. His words send glee to your heart. Had you known this hurts him as much as it hurts you, you would do something about it. Find a way to make something work. There must be a way.

“I’m sorry for being so distant with you in regard to your emotions. But, I do it to protect you. I’m not right for you.” Jimin whispers as his lips reconnect with yours. A carnal desire brewing deep inside of him, no doubt inside of you too.

“Jimin,” you whimper against his mouth. The crack in your voice is threatening to snap.

“Tell me to stop.”

“Don’t,” you sniffle. 

Your head is a clutter of sensitive emotions ransacking your brain. Clouding your headspace as if you are in a daydream. But you accept it. Allow this illusion, real or not, to be as real as it can ever get.

You accept him and this moment of time.

The heat of Jimin’s body keeps you warm from the chilled air outside of the sheets. Slowly, he shifts to have you laying on your back as his body crawls over you. Jimin plants soft and wet kisses down your jawline to a sweet spot on the side of your neck, multitasking with the buttons of your thick clothes.

The second he is able to free portions of your body from the garments, his skin slides over yours. Touching every delicately smooth surface of your body. Rising goosebumps through each sway of his fingers across every inch. You melt into his touches, a quiet whimper and pleasant hum escaping your nose.

“You’re so beautiful,” he comments as he levels his head with yours. He takes a moment to peer down at your morning face, admiring the way you look even with a rough night. Jimin remembers your eyes the most. How genuine and curious they are. He reminisces about the first time; when a shot of an electrifying spark penetrated his entire being because of his imprinting nature… how it connected him to you for as long as you live. “I will never lose you.”

Jimin can feel the way your body speaks to him. How together all your nerve endings and atoms feel as if they join like a perfect puzzle. It leads him further to your core, trailing his hand tentatively as he waits for a clear sign for him to continue.

He presses himself gently against you, showing you his growing need for you. The hardened appendage pokes you like a soft tapping on a door, trying to be as polite as possible.

You take his face in your hands, pulling him down for another emotional kiss. You nod to him, giving him the clearing to roam your most secretive bits.

After removing the access clothing from your legs, his fingertips glide up your inner thighs. He shivers when he inhales suddenly, taking in the small whiff of your scent. Instinctively, and almost casually, you bend your knee to allow more access for him.

Jimin’s fingers ghost over your core, brushing against the edges before feeling the slick heat from your lower lips. He teases you at first but not on purpose. Jimin swallows nervously, fighting with his body to remind himself to take things slow.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling at the plump piece of flesh as his index finger runs down your slit. You shutter with a breath of hot air blowing out, enjoying the foreign touch.

Unsure what to do with your hands, you begin to run them down his hard chest to mimic the similar style of approach he does on you. Though you’re halted the moment you hit his navel by his hand.

“Allow me to focus on you,” he requests in a soft tone. He raises your knuckles to his mouth where he plants a chaste kiss to them.

He suggests for your hands to remain away as he descends down the valley of your breasts. Each tender kiss he leaves to your feverish skin in the commute to your lower region has you squirming. You hoist the blankets over your body as Jimin disappears underneath them, taking the heat too. He’s able to maneuver skillfully between your legs, slotting himself neatly as you spread them wider.

You don’t get to see the way Jimin licks his lips when his eyes focus on your core for the first time. How your scent hits his nose at full force, reminding him how beautifully wet you’re becoming with the tension built up around you. His finger returns to you, sliding down your slit and nudging against your clit. It causes you to jolt, instinctively closing your legs around him as much as possible. But he keeps them open with his hands and body as he moves closer.

Peeking under the covers, you see the dark hair of Jimin sinking between the junction of your thighs. You capture the scene, branding it in your memory the moment Jimin’s mouth abruptly comes down on to your clit. You cry out, gripping the blankets in hard fists as his tongue languidly flicks over your sensitive bud as his finger teases your entrance.

“Shh,” he tries to tame you when he inserts his finger into you. You clench tightly, shift your legs even more as your body adjusts to Jimin.

He’s wondering what you’ll feel like if he inserts another, if it’ll pull another whimper and a moan from you. And he has to; to spread your entrance wider and stretch your walls open enough to allow him inside. Prepare your body for the intrusive thoughts bleeding into his mind of your body shaking under him with pleasure.

Jimin curls his fingers once he adds a second one into the mix, slowly pumping them in you at a steady pace as his lips caress your clit. The tip of his tongue flicks your bud so dangerously, it makes you cry out even louder and begins to disturb the silent winter morning air.

His free hand comes down to your waist to stop your hips from bucking into him. Jimin releases his mouth from you and calms his fingers as he hushes you once again.

“Quiet, Princess. Please.”

“Jimin, I-I’m-” You pant softly. Your chest shakes with the rise and fall and intense pounding of your heart.

“Don’t be sorry,” he interjects. Jimin slides himself up your body again while still securing his fingers inside your core. “I know it’s hard to not be loud.” He places a kiss to your cheek before finding your mouth, the taste of you still lingering on his plump lips. Gently, he adds a third finger into your entrance and captures your whine with a sealed kiss.

He uses this moment to experimentally widen your walls with the scissoring effect of his fingers. Fighting off the impulsive clench your body naturally does. When his thumb presses into your clit your body jumps.

Your hands rush to his head, combing through his hair as you fight to anchor yourself on something.

Jimin winces from the strength and harsh pull, but he doesn’t let it bother his actions. Instead, he is kissing your neck again as his hand wraps around your back. He lifts you up like it’s easy until you’re straddling his lap, legs still parted wide for him. Jimin removes his fingers from you, allowing him to push you closer against his hardness. The contact makes his neglected member flinch with excitement.

Your cheeks prick with sparks of warmth as you look Jimin in the eyes again. Both completely naked and in each other's own embrace. Your hot slick presses against his shaft and Jimin cannot help but use his hand to push you into him again.

The blankets have fallen around the two of you, leaving Jimin’s strong muscles to hold you upright on top of him and exposed for him and only him.

“You can’t tell anyone…” he begins as his lips lock with yours. “What happens here must stay here.”

“But what if I don’t want that?” You ask, catching your breath in between kisses.

“Want and need are two different things.”

“I want both of those though,” you exclaim. “I want and need you, Jimin.”

He silences you again, but this time with his tongue. He dives deep into your mouth, groaning with the taste of you that excites him.

“Don’t ever speak of this,” he reminds you. “You mean more to me than you can ever imagine. You’re special to me, Y/n. You will always have me.”

Your heart tightens in your chest as you hear his sincere words. Relief is an understatement. The reassurance and verbal notice of Jimin’s confession is enough to send you to cloud nine. His loyalty and dedication to your family's name isn’t the only thing he cares for. The importance of you and how you are something more to him sends your heart into eternal bliss. Maybe all it took is to finally hear it from the source.

“I’ve always loved you,” you declare as if Jimin never knew this himself. 

He nods, leaning in to capture another kiss from you as your hands tugs on his shoulders. Your mouths move together so perfectly, reminding you how you want nothing more than to do this for the rest of your life. Lightly, your clit brushes against his hardened and untouched dick. The sensation of how close you are to it sends excitement through your body, arousing you more as you desperately rock against him for more stimulation with his help. Your slick drips along his lap, making the glide easier for you.

You admire the tip of his cockhead pointing up toward you, silently requesting to be touched.

“Help me,” you whisper as your legs try to help raise you above him.

Jimin positions his cock when you’re hovering over him. Your arousal drips teasingly over him, dressing the mushroom head of his tip in a shiny coat. He breathes out a strangled breath as the curse word ‘shit’ runs out of his lips. 

Slowly, you drop down on Jimin’s cock. Allowing him to stretch you open as the first inches penetrate you. He holds you up, allows you to sink down at your own pace as both your mouths open with pleasurable surprise. A silent gasp leaves the two of you breathless as you sit flush against him, ignoring any prickling pain as your walls flutter around his cock. Squeezing and unsqueezing rigorously as your head tosses back with eyes screwed shut. Jimin groans with a string of incoherent words, muffled by the way he presses his lips into the side of your neck.

“Oh,” you whimper. 

Knees already threatening to buckle and morph into jelly, your hands hold onto Jimin’s sturdy shoulders when you look down between the two of you. There’s fascination running through you as you watch the way your breasts rub against his chest each time your body moves down his; watching the way he disappears inside of you and filling you up.

The two of you moan in unison as you experimentally roll your hips into him. Jimin’s fingers tighten around your thighs, jerking his hips up to meet yours. He keeps a leisurely pace with you as he wishes nothing but to make you feel pleasurable. You can feel the way your orgasm slowly builds within you as you hold Jimin’s head closer against your neck. A desperate way of holding onto something while you begin to tremble with sensitivity.

“Is it too much?” He questions as he holds you impossibly closer to his body.

You breathe deeply, clutching his cock with your walls.

“No,” you choke out. “I need more.”

Jimin pulls you off of him to greet your face with his. He lays you down expertly, letting your body rest soft against the mattress again. Jimin is able to hook his arm around one of your legs and gently lifts it higher, testing the new angle and watching the way your face contorts with pleasure. 

You cry out his name as you feel his cock run across a specific spot inside of you, making your toes curl and back arch. The sparks in your body flying like lightning in the sky.

There’s a tightness in your stomach that shoots down to your lower region, alerting you of your approaching orgasm. Jimin notices from the way you shake with each thrust he gives. He holds your legs wide, allowing deeper access to push into you as his abdomen flexes every time his body bangs into yours.

“Like this?” He breaths out, a glimpse of blue shining from his eyes.

“K-keep… Y-yes,” you moan, feeling him hit every mark with this new angle.

Jimin lowers himself down to catch your lips with his, closing your mouth and muffing your noises to the best of his abilities. He absolutely loves hearing the sounds of your whimpers and pleasure, but he’s not trying to allow everyone else to hear them.

Another quick and particular movement of Jimin’s hips has you coming undone beneath him, bucking your hips up to match his thrusts as you squeeze tight around him. You feel the way your nails dig into his shoulders as you shake uncontrollably as Jimin continues to thrust through your orgasm. The sounds of your bodies colliding heightens with squelching noises, your dripping arousal coating his entire pelvis and leaking onto the sheets below.

With a few more sharp thrusts, Jimin pulls out of you and spills his seed onto your stomach. Dressing your smooth skin with strings of milky residue. You catch the ending bit, watching the way his cum spurts out of his cockhead as Jimin presses his pelvis down, using both him and you to squeeze his slick-hardened cock.

Jimin moans with you, still molding your lips together as he holds you close to him. When the two of you calm down from the euphoric sensations, he places his forehead against yours. He looks down at you with soft and serene eyes. Filled with love and adoration. This new sense of energy and vulnerability flows through him.

It’s happiness he shares with you when you both shyly smile at another. Ignoring all the heated labor breathes and dampened hairlines. You get lost in his eyes, wishing that the crisp amber coloring is the solution to all your worries and problems. And in some ways – they are.

“I love you.”

Jimin speaks calmly as he declares his emotions for you. His lips press into yours once more to seal his statement.

You can’t help but look up at him with watery eyes. You want to burst into a full blown cry when you see the way his eyes glisten too, but you don’t. Not wanting to spoil the moment of sincerity for either of you.

“I love you too,” you respond as you brush strands of fringe away from his softening face. It’s almost long enough to tuck behind his ear, which you scowl when you watch the piece fall right back in his face.

You share a soft chuckle with him as he moves slowly, making sure to not spread the mess on your stomach everywhere.

“I’ll clean us up and we can go back to resting for a bit.”

“Okay,” you smile softly. Your hands begin to cover yourself the further Jimin pulls away from your body. 

Jimin is quick to find a feasible cloth from the corner of the room and just as fast to return to you on the bed. He wipes you off first, as he should, before cleaning himself. He kneels down on the mattress as you try to subtly admire his entire naked body. Realizing he is still so unfairly beautiful without the suited armor and clothing he usually wears.

“I should have you know, now that you’re awake…” he huffed a laugh. Jimin slides himself under the covers, meeting your body with his. His arm crosses over your torso, hand running down the other side of you until he pulls you close by the waist. “Your family is safe. We defeated the threat last night and your castle will undergo some reconstruction from the damages. But everything is maintained again. I’m sure we will have to return within the day.”

The news makes you happy. The outcome could have been far worse in many ways. But hearing these words from Jimin is comforting. It makes you proud and grateful for him. You aren’t sure what the future will bring. How this dreamy secret must never be spoken about. What this could all mean now. But what you do know, is that he loves you too, and that is enough for now.

Moodboard credit: @/kth1

© 2023 All rights reserved under @kth1​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This TUMBLR and AO3 are the ONLY places my fics are posted.

[deiaiko]

Happy B-day @cheerful-solitude! <333

This art is also accompanied by @jusalilweird 's fic:

I hope you like our present 👀

(Putting the full version under the cut because I'm already dying 😳😳😳)

[sweetainwen]

ᴜɴᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴsɪɢʜᴛ [WANDERER/SCARAMOUCHE]

Summary: the creator just wanted to find the reason for that system error, but she had brought with her an unwanted insight into the game itself, causing a dangerous and unexpected collapse within him.

Pairings: yandere!Scaramouche/Wanderer x fem!OC (you can think of her as Y/N)

Genre: sagau, yandere!au, isekai!au, futuristic!au, sci-fi!au.

Warnings: jealous!wanderer, fluff, angst, d^aths (no blood tho), wanderer losing his mind, noncon kissing.

SUMERU ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS

I STARTED WRITING THIS BEFORE THE FONTAINE RELEASE, SO IT'S NOT PRESENT

THE WANDERER'S NAME IS THE ONE I CHOOSE (IT MEANS "LIGHT", "RADIANCE")

Word count: 12k+

A hand gently, lightly brushing his hair. The humming of a sweet, soothing tune tickling his ears. A smile, a face, a calm voice and muffled words.

His eyes struggled to focus.

Everything was blurry, but he could catch those details of the one who was tenderly lulling him.

She was moving her lips, she was talking. but he did not understand. He was still groggy. Nevertheless, he sensed it.

It was home.

“Here, your food.”

He snapped his eyes open, staring at the bowl in front of him before looking up at the arm holding the item and finally at the person sitting to his left on a medium tree trunk.

The Wanderer saw her give him a surprised look, blinking.

“Oh, sorry, did you fall asleep?”

He let out a grunt, almost snatching the bowl out of her hand and spilling out its contents, causing her to gasp slightly.

“My, how grumpy,” she snickered amusedly. “It seems like I'm putting you through torture. You can't call me a bad cook, big hat guy.”

He took the spoon between his fingers, sighing annoyed at the way he had been called for the thousandth time, “Quit with that name.”

“I would if I had a real name to call you by,” she shrugged with a smirk on her face, the spoon playing with the food in the bowl. “But since you won't tell me, I had to give you one. It suits you, doesn't it?”

Her eyes were fixed on his hat at that question, and the Wanderer preferred to ignore it, causing her to put on a feigned pout.

She took a bite of her lunch, "Is this how you treat your travel companion?"

“You are not.”

“But we are traveling together to Sumeru!”

“You have decided to join. Without my consent,” he reminded her, his gaze now on her.

“You didn't refuse though.”

This time her sullen face was genuine.

He stared at her without arguing back, the impulse to leave her there on the spot taking over. However it dissipated shortly after the lively gleam in her eyes struck him.

Again.

“Stop talking and eat up. We need to get back on the road.”

He brought his gaze back to the food, but he could feel the young woman's victorious smile.

She was truly a whirlwind in perpetual motion. She got into constant trouble between hilichurls, treasure hoarders, and even fatui.

It was better to call her a loose cannon.

That was just how he had met her several days before, though the hilarious part was that the hoarders were running away from her.

And he even ended up in the middle of their battle when those bandits had tried to use him as a shield.

It had been a scene comical enough to almost make him sneer.

And that was when she proclaimed herself as his travel companion, since they had to go the same way.

“Have you gone freaking nuts?” he blurted out with crossed arms.

She blinked before putting on a huge smile, “Why not?”

“I could kill you too.”

“You don't seem like a bad guy at all, hat guy," she shook her head, stretching her hand toward him and eyes twinkling like stars. “I'm Clara. No last name, just Clara. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

And he had let her come with him.

He felt a kind of force drawing him toward the young woman. He could not respond in any other way to her gestures and words than with indulgence.

And it irked him that it was no problem for him.

Those eyes on him now accentuated the annoyance he had been feeling for the past few days.

As a result, he put into action what he thought whenever he was stared at intensely by her before continuing on his journey.

A movement of his hand was enough to create a vortex that surrounded the young woman and carried her away from him.

The gasp of surprise and words of displeasure never failed to be heard.

But she always managed to return and take him wherever she wanted to go.

Such as booking a room at an inn for the night.

“Using your element to get rid of me is completely pointless. You are perfectly aware that I'd be back on my feet in no time,” Clara sneered at him, sitting on the windowsill with one leg toward her chest as he lay on the bed far from the open window.

“And you acknowledge the fact that I could harm you with that.”

She giggled in response, and he saw that particular glint in her eyes again that if he could lose his breath, it would have happened by now. The smile that followed it made the picture even more vivid.

“You would have already done what you had to do, Hikaru.”

He frowned, astonishment at hearing that name, “What?”

“Oh. Calling you big hat guy all the time doesn't seem appropriate, and since you won't tell me your name, I decided to give you a real one. Why?” She brought her arm on her knee before resting her chin on it. “You don't like it?”

“Why that name?”

This time, the smile she showed him was a sweet one, devoid of any malice.

“Because you remind me of how a person can emanate their own light, and head towards the end,” she explained in a soft voice, her face now turned up to the night sky. “Like a bright star high in the sky.”

Silence filled the room.

The Wanderer did not know what to answer, and he did not want to answer. The name said so lightly, but with meaning, was the same one the traveler had given him.

It was so strange.

“Although... these stars and this sky seem to have something wrong with them.”

The Wanderer sat on the edge of the bed, confused by the sudden change of subject, “Wrong how?”

He watched carefully as her expression became thoughtful, almost serious, absorbed in finding an explanation.

“It's as if ... you want to go one way, but you are pushed in another. Determined to follow that set thought of yours, but it gets diverted, and you don't know whether to continue or not. A false sense of control. A purpose-built hope.”

She went back to look at him. And the feeling he got from it was totally different.

She seemed to be observing him, seeking something deep within him. Like an astrologist reading your future.

“Well, it's probably just my mindless reasoning," she shrugged, her facial features softening. “I'm going to go to sleep now. Good night, Hikaru.”

And as she got up and headed for her bed, that feeling vanished along with her no longer being in his line of sight.

He lay back down again, confused for the umpteenth time by their interactions. There was definitely a double meaning in what she had said, and he even began to believe that it had some connection to the reason for her journey to Sumeru.

And at that point, after days and nights together, he was wondering: what was she looking for?

Everything was dark, he could see nothing. He could only hear murmurs and noises.

But then there was a gentle touch, his hair being tousled by her hand.

All went quiet, and a faint, sweet chuckle echoed in that darkness before making way for a soft, muffled voice.

He felt it. Deafening and overpowering. That strange feeling.

“You're such a good boy.”

Like it was home.

He snapped his eyes open, and the first thing he saw was Clara’s surprised and slightly worried face.

“Is everything all right?”

Disoriented, he tried to grasp the situation. One of her hands was at the side of his head, while the other was in his. He couldn’t blink.

And Clara, surely noticing his inquisitive look, was quick to explain.

“I saw you stirring in your sleep. I thought you were having a nightmare so I tried to wake you up, but you grabbed my hand,” she showed him their intertwined hands. “Then I tried to soothe you with caresses and reassuring words. And it worked.”

She gave him a smile, but he said nothing. He only stared at her.

Clara tilted her head slightly to the side at that reaction, not understanding what else he wanted to know. Or he probably didn't believe what she had told him.

She did not give it much thought.

When Clara felt his grip loosen, she gently freed her hand from his, standing up.

“I brought your breakfast. It’s on the bedside table. Eat with no rush, I’m going downstairs.”

And she walked on, closing the door behind her.

The Wanderer sat at the edge of the bed and sighed deeply, his eyes going to the tray with his breakfast mentioned by Clara.

He had been experiencing those moments for days now. It was beyond annoying.

Dreams that showed scenarios that then affected him emotionally and psychologically when he woke up. Not just any scenes, but of himself in situations that seemed familiar despite the fact that he had never actually experienced them.

Memories.

It was also strange and impossible. Because he was a puppet. He could not sleep, consequently neither could he dream. However, he was doing both, and he was unaware of how he was doing it.

What was he to expect now? That he would no longer have to pretend that he had to eat?

Of one thing he was sure though. It had all started after the arrival of the one he was now watching chatting and giggling with an inn employee outside the inn after leaving the room.

He sensed it. That greater force pushing him back toward her.

Uncontrollable and domineering.

And another emotion mixed with it. An emotion so strong that he wanted to rip off the head of that young man standing too much close to her.

Instead, he moved closer, catching their attention, and with a movement of his fingers, he made a vortex appear around the young woman that dragged her away from the guy, leaving both of them stunned and confused.

And after throwing a glance that made the unfortunate man shudder, he went behind the whirlwind with Clara rolling her eyes.

He just sneered, feeling a little better. Clara huffed after being released far from the inn, adjusting her disheveled clothes and walking toward the direction they had come from.

Knowing her intentions, he stepped in front of her and before she could even open her mouth to argue, he revealed the object of interest and threw it at her, watching as she tried hard not to drop it.

“Your bag,” he informed her, putting a hand on his hip.

She just shot him a glare, her eyes almost twitching.

“What am I surprised about? Your social skills certainly can't improve in a snap of the fingers,” she muttered displeased, fixing her shoulder bag over one shoulder and checking the contents for possible breakage. “Be more careful when holding other people’s things! And stop frightening people for no reason at all! Poor guy was praying that he wouldn't end up in pieces.”

He did not speak, resuming his walk as if he had heard nothing.

“Ignoring my words, are you?” she gave up, going after him.

“Just a little while and we will arrive at our destination,” was what he communicated instead.

He suddenly felt himself grabbed by the arm, almost causing him to lose his balance, and caught her radiant face a few inches away from his.

He could tell he had had a heart attack at this.

“Really?! Finally! Then we must hurry, I can’t wait to get there!”

He frowned, trying to break free from her grasp, but was taken aback by her sudden jerk forward before she started running and dragging him with her.

She was too enthusiastic for his liking, a child in an adult's body. Hopping here and there like a rabbit with a goofy smile and sparkling eyes through the streets of Sumeru.

He felt like a nanny and couldn't say he was pleased about it.

“Sumeru is just as it was portrayed to me. I love it!”

“Your elation over a city is quite childlike. I could swear I'm dealing with a child.”

She hopped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks and puffing out her cheeks, “And you’re too edgy and grumpy for my liking. Change your mood when you’re with me. I won’t tolerate a gloomy atmosphere.”

“You’re such a-“

“Cute, lovable, little person? I am, thanks for noticing that, Hikaru.”

She stuck out her tongue at him before a smile spread across her face, and he grimaced at what he called her antics. Realizing the presence of the god of wisdom coming toward them with her lips upward instead made him roll his eyes.

“I take great pleasure in seeing that you have finally found yourself a friend.”

That sweet, little voice made Clara turn around, and was taken aback as soon as she saw who was before her.

The Wanderer placed one hand on his hip, shaking his head at her words, “You shouldn’t.”

Nahida slightly giggled, shifting her focus on the young woman by his side, conscious of how she struggled to conceal her astonishment and nervousness in her presence.

“I’m- I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Dendro Archon! I’m… I’m Clara!”

“Very delighted to meet you, Clara.” She almost cooed at her reaction. “I’m hoping he’s not causing you any distress.”

She gesticulated, eyes wide open, “Oh! Of course, he isn’t! Our traveling proceeded smoothly! Not one person was the victim of his aggressive look or word!”

The Wanderer gave her a look and Clara pressed her lips together after the gaffe she had made.

The little Archon cocked her head to the side, entertained by their interaction. But the most interesting behavior was that of the former balladeer, somehow influenced by the young woman to be more calm and condescending.

“You seem to get along pretty well.”

The duo looked at her, baffled. Before they could comment, the clatter of rapidly approaching wheels against the ground alerted the young man.

His hand was quick to rest on her hip, bringing her closer to himself and thus preventing her from being run over by the wooden cart.

The man carrying it apologized several times under Hikaru’s grim gaze, and Clara and Nahida’s surprised eyes before going on his way.

Clara thanked him and, moving slightly away from him, turned to Nahida with a curious look, “There is a lot of movement around. Is there any celebration going on?”

“A festival. Would you like to partecipate?”

Her eyes sparkled, “Can I really?”

“There is no prohibition on this,” Nahida giggled. “Everyone is welcome. With Hikaru's company, it will be easier to integrate.”

“Excuse me?” his eyebrow shot up.

“She’s not familiar with Sumeru. Consequently, someone who is should be her guide.”

It wasn't the beaming face and the implied order of the Dendro Archon, it was Clara's eyes filled with expectation and eagerness to witness a common joy that dragged him through the stalls ― one of which she had almost ended up being scammed and if it hadn't been for her stopping him, he would have probably literally blown up every one of his pieces for sale and the seller himself ― and ultimately among the people moving to the beat of the music.

But he had stood on the sidelines, leaning against a tree and watching as she laughed and got involved with the locals. On her head the hat she had snatched from him.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

Her face that showed eyes like sparkling gems filled with life, red cheeks, and lips fully spread in a joyful smile.

She was some sort of flower in the midst of the desert. You found it strange that it was there and at the same time you thought it was wonderful to see it there.

It led you to get closer and stand there admiring it. To cup your hands at its sides and hide it from any intruder.

A sight that you wanted only yours to witness.

And the way he was thinking irked him.

His ears sensed a shift in the air, and Hikaru was able to quickly catch the hat Clara had thrown at him with one hand.

“Guess you’re not fond of festivals. Or should I say people in general?” she remarked, moving to his side and placing her elbow on his shoulder. “Oh, look! I can touch your shoulder even like this!” she added in mock surprise.

He didn't speak, but Clara saw him raise his arm slightly and form a small swirl of air from his hand. She stepped back just far enough not to be blown away with her hands in surrender ― although she didn't think he would really do that.

She tried not to laugh, but it was impossible.  

And it was in that instant that Hikaru saw all around her become blurred and overlaid by an environment all too familiar to him. Her clothes replaced by others and her laughter accentuated.

It echoed in his ears. Overbearing, piercing.

It mixed with the muffled music and chatter in the background of the festival.

A desperate cry broke in, words overlapping each other. Distorted and almost inaudible.

His head began to ache, his eyes squinted, and an annoying ringing thrummed in his ears.

And it became more and more unbearable.

He wanted it to stop. It fucking hurt.

“Please! Please, don’t leave me!”

“Are you all right?”

The suffering vanished as soon as her hands touched his cheeks, bringing him back to the present.

“It's better if you reach a quieter place. Or maybe go straight to bed. It's pretty late, I'd say.”

He didn’t utter a word, completely disoriented by this event. And with no hesitation, he agreed with her suggestion, leaving that chaotic place under Clara’s attentive eyes.

She crossed her arms pensively.

“I assume that your research is not bearing fruit, given the way the situation is somewhat out of control.”

Clara looked at the Dendro Archon beside her, blinking away the fear from her eyes and with a hand on her chest the near heart attack she had from her sudden arrival.

“Don’t ever do that again if you do not wish for my death!” She exhaled, “I cannot ask such questions without having at least a phase of knowledge and trust between us. It will just take a little longer because of his wariness. Nothing is out of control. What gave you this impression?”

Nahida didn’t look away from the crowd and Clara followed suit, “Is this the first time he has shown himself like that?”

Realizing that she was referring to how Hikaru had grabbed his head with one hand and his face had distorted in pain, Clara cocked her head to the side, not sure how to respond.

“I think it is. Although he had a pretty awful nightmare last night. He wouldn't stop squirming and at one point wouldn't even let go of my hand. The situation is indeed quite strange.” She shook her head, crossing her arms again, “He should not experience this kind of thing; he is a puppet. Still, seeing him trying to hide it is very amusing.”

She smiled, amused by the memory of him eating and sleeping like a normal human being.

Nahida hummed thoughtfully, “It may be a consequence of your closeness.”

Her gaze ended on her again, and Nahida did the same.

“You two share something deep,” she replied at her silent question. Something that both unites and changes you.”

“Like… a connection? Are you trying to say that because of this connection that we have,” she pointed at herself in a surprised manner. “I am instigating a change in him? He forgets everything if I get out of the game and then remember again if I go back in?”

“A deep connection. The more you feel, the more intriguing and dear is something or someone to you,” she clarified her hypothesis. “You must remember your effect on the people of this world. Your presence can be sensed by every single individual here. You are the creator. A powerful figure, more than us Archons. We are not fully aware of the influence of each of your actions. And I forewarned you of my inability to help you in such dangerous cases. What I see is total blackness; you are not part of this world. That’s why you have to be careful not to ruin the balance of Teyvat more than Dottore and Wanderer have discovered. Do it for the sake of all of us.”

Clara let out a sigh, and nodded.

Her voice was sweet and gentle, but the weight of the words spoken was not light.

The things that were taking form in this game were not supposed to occur. Having real interactions with people here was not an expected possibility, because it was a game.

A game that she herself had given shape to and was having huge success.

She was living in an era where technology was overdeveloped, it could very well be compared to a sci-fi movie. Time travel had been discovered, even flowing into parallel universes. Computers were no longer cumbersome but a small device that showed you in hologram what you wanted, like the keyboard and the mouse itself.

Being a video game producer, she had in mind a game that would bring back the old days, a gacha style of gaming that had gone out of fashion long centuries before, leaving only complete games to continue through time.

Thus, she had shared with her co-founders this idea of hers, which was accepted with some misgivings.

She did not have many expectations either, nevertheless people had liked it, taking her by surprise. Probably because this generation had never seen any, except in documentaries or such, and wanted to experience what it was like to live in an earlier era.

Some time after the game was released, she had thought of creating a more realistic alternative of it using VR headsets to engage even those who had felt no interest.

However, something had gone wrong, because she had experienced firsthand one of the scenes she had intended to include in the game that was still far from being added: the Tatarasuna Mistery. In which a mysterious disease had infected, killed many locals and scarred Hikaru to the core.

She hadn’t been an exception.

The crying, suffering, screams, desperation.

It had been too much to watch and had nearly given her a panic attack.

And she had done the only thing she believed was right: use her VR headset to get out of there. When she did, she was wearing the clothes of that world and had some small wounds on her feet from running on the ground barefoot in terror.

It was then that she realized she had created a parallel universe of that game. The game codes had been mixed up and incorporated by the three-dimensional-capable machine she had used as a technical test, bringing to life the scenarios that were still being designed.

This discovery was too dangerous to share; in fact, they decided never to talk about it again. The fright and concern her co-founders had felt after seeing her in that state had been enough to agree to keep quiet about the matter.

Unfortunately, a problem occurred when an event came out further on, in which Scaramouche, the sixth fatui harbinger, made his first appearance.

Some of the scenes were not what they were supposed to be. They had changed. Scaramouche should not have said that the sky was fake, a hoax. But they had let it go; it gave a sense of mystery and decided to go with the flow.

After that, Il Dottore said the same words. It was not a simple concidence. Her game had a reality on its own and was writing its own story. Even their employees were beginning to detect strange things.

She wanted to solve the issue, but she did not know whether destroying that universe would bring consequences in the game and be discovered by the S.T.C.C.O., the Spatio-Temporal Continuum Control Organization.

Wandering between worlds must be authorized by them to prevent ill-intentioned people from changing parts of history for selfish purposes, and if they did not show permission they could shut the company down.

Risking a life of progress was out of the question, consequently the only option was to look for a foothold in that same world and figure out how to fix it against the disagreement of her co-founder friends.

The only way she believed possible was to ask for help from the one who had wisdom and knowledge on her side, The Dendro Archon Lesser Lord Kusanali.

She smiled. Kind, welcoming. And a small movement of her head in a reverent greeting.

“Welcome, outsider.”

She was petrified of Nahida’s awareness of her. It showed her skill as the ruler of a region, but it was all the same frightening how her identity could be so easily discovered.

She found out later that not everyone could do that, only the archons, so she had breathed a sigh of relief, hoping, however, that she would not one day end up buried alive for all the pain they had felt because of her.

Her explanation of the events, where she came from and who she was, had left Nahida speechless. She had understood she was a foreigner, but not the significance of her presence there.

Everything about the young woman had some kind of wall blocking any outside access, and the reason she could not was precisely her provenance.

The Dendro Archon had then taken her to Hikaru while he was still Scaramouche, and the sight of him lying unconscious after the battle with the traveler had made quite an impression on her.

Everything here was real; you could talk to them, joke with them, touch them.

Remorse had made its way into her, and unconsciously she had approached and reassured him of his rebirth.

He was now Hikaru, the Wanderer.

She still had to find out what made him think everything was fake before releasing another region and archon quests, though it was proving quite difficult to do so.

She just had to try several times in different ways until he gave in.

That was why she had asked Nahida to send him on a trip and have them meet in the least forced way.

It would have taken her longer, but since in this universe time seemed to pass as it did in his game and unlike his world, she didn't mind.

The same could not be said of her indecision about whether or not to knock on the door of the room where Hikaru had decided to rest.

She could feel tension in the air. It was strange. And… intimidating.

Especially after talking to Nahida.

“Are you coming in or not? Don’t have any hands to open the door?”

She almost let out a scream at this sudden voice, a hand on her chest.

The way both of them made her almost die of a heart attack from a fright was really impressive.

Opening the door slightly, she let only her head pop out, almost shy, "I just wanted to know if you're feeling better."

“What do you think?” He articulated sharply, not even glancing at her.

“Well…” She entered the room, walking towards the bed where he was sitting and standing a short distance from him, “Is it a headache? Do you want me to fetch some medicine?”

“It’s not necessary. It will go away on its own.”

“Oh, good.”

Silence built between them.

Perhaps it had not been a good idea to visit him now, he was definitely not in the mood for small talk or anything else ― as he always was ― but she could not leave him alone.

“What’s your purpose here?”

After the initial moment of stupor, with a blink of her eyes, she could only say, “What?”

He looked at her, and almost took a step back because of how dull his eyes were.

“Sumeru probably has something to do with your traveling. What is it that you’re looking for?”

That was totally unexpected.

She thought she would have to work her way up to simply have a reply from him without creating suspicions. Even though it didn’t look like there wasn’t any from his intense gaze.

“Answers.”

He raised an eyebrow, a slight hint of amusement in his hollow eyes at her short response, “Answers. To what? The bright star high in the sky and the feeling of being controlled?”

He was definitely mocking her and the metaphor she used to express her opinion.

“Precisely that one.” She tilted her head to the side, “What do you think about it?”

“Everyone is controlled by someone one way or another. Willingly or unwillingly.”

“That makes sense. But how are you aware of that control? What signs do you see to come to that conclusion?”

“I don't know. Your instincts?”

She opened her mouth to retort, but closed it again, sighing slightly.

It was too good to be true. It was Hikaru they were talking about. The personality could not change.

She had a pang in her heart. She had given him that personality, like every character in the game. She had caused trauma and tragic experiences.

And that struck even deeper.

Everything in the palm of her hand, but as soon as something was out of control she wanted to fix it right away.

It was also a logical consequence of her work environment; she could leave nothing to chance.

The guilt still consumed her from the inside.

She realized only now how they had remained silent and with their eyes on each other.

He seemed to want to peer deep into her. To look for behavioral changes, for a weakness, to give certainty to doubts.

Or perhaps she was influenced by her own guilt.

It was suffocating.

Her hand moved, slowly, giving the puppet the choice to shrug it off, but he did not. It rested on his head and began to gently caress it.

“I’m sorry.”

It was a faint whisper, but a strange glint flashed through his eyes at it.

“For what?”

“I don’t know, just… I’m sorry.”

It had been spontaneous. She wanted to tell him, even though he did not understand the act.

And again, the same gaze as a few moments ago was on her. This time it was less oppressive and more… soft.

He reached for the arm of her hand still on his head and put it down, before pulling her close to him and resting his head on her stomach. His arms wrapping around her waist.

The word astonishment did not fully describe how she felt about this gesture.

It was completely out of character. Nonetheless, she had to remind herself that he was no longer a mere character in a game and that anyone who got an aloof, arrogant and conceited attitude could fall apart.

As a result, she encircled his head with her arms, attempting to convey comfort and reassurance.

She felt his grip on her waist tighten slightly, but was completely oblivious to the effect her words had on him… and the sudden change in his eyes hidden from her sight.

Thus, when he was standing at her heels the following days, it had her somewhat confused.

Scratch that. It was really confusing how calm and kind he had become to her.

It was likely due to that moment they shared together a few nights before, but the shift was…

Well, at least he had not completely changed; that would have been unsettling.

But she did not expect that he would even lie beside her on the grass, on a small slanted ledge of a hill, to watch the sunset together.

A bird flew in front of her and, following it with her eyes, she saw how it landed on Hikaru's head.

He sighed but did nothing to get it off.

It wasn't the first time this had happened; even if he tried to make it leave, he wouldn't succeed like he did with the others, and that made her laugh.

“They love you, huh?”

He didn't look at her, “Shut up.”

 “Never.”

He raised his hand, ready to make her fly faster than a bird, but she surrendered by shaking hers.

“Oh, my! You should calm your horses! There's beautiful nature here contributing to a breathtaking view and you want to sweep it away? That's so cruel!”

“I eliminate possible contamination.”

She blinked, “Wait. Me?”

With his eyes now on her, he cocked an eyebrow matter-of-factly, “Who else? The bird? Is your brain a decoration by any chance?”

She snorted, sitting down on the grass, “Then you should avoid associating with a person who has her brain as a decoration. That way you can avoid becoming dumb yourself.”

She was about to get up, but Hikaru's hand putting her back down blocked her from doing so.

And without saying anything, she smiled, bringing her arms under her head again and closing her eyes. A slight smile took up the young man's lips; she would not find out though, for it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

And after he did not know how long, heavy breathing of a sleeping person could be heard instead, and when he looked to his left, Clara was completely in dreamland.

Hikaru let out a small snort of disbelief at the scene.

The sound of stepping on grass behind him caught his attention.

“You like her company now, don't you?”

He sat up, watching the bird finally fly away, “She is bearable.”

Nahida giggled, “So bearable to follow her around, right?”

He reimaned silent as he got up and brushed off his clothes from the dirt, but didn't miss to give her a side-eye.

The little Dendro Archon observed as a small wind began to rise with a movement of his hand, lifting Clara into the air and carrying her directly into his arms; one below the crook of her knees and the other wrapping around her back. Her head drooping before resting on his chest.

With a nod toward her as a sign of goodbye, he jumped up into the air and flew away, leaving her alone.

Along with her worries.

She sighed slightly, “Seriously, I hope nothing happens.”

It could not be said that something was not wrong, as doubts had crept into Hikaru's mind anyway.

Such an answer as Clara's would have pleased no one; it was too vague.

That was why he had changed his attitude a bit, to get more informations.

Laying her on her bed, he took the bag off her shoulder without waking her and sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze drawn as always to her face.

He had a gut feeling of her being involved in those chaotic and confusing fragments of situations he was recalling, although there was a certain confidence ― which by now had wavered ― that he had never experienced them.

Getting closer was the best method to piece together those called fragments, but the more he did, the harder it was to detach and stay focused.

She was the one distracting him.

A few strands of her hair had fallen across her face, and his hand reached out to move them aside. After that he heaved a sigh, realizing that he had been staring at her for he did not know how long before he recovered from that strange state of daze.

He was definitely losing his mind.

He stood up and walked over to the chair placed by the door to put Clara's bag, which he still had in his hand, on it.

Before he could open the door a sudden noise stopped him. It had echoed in his mind, like a jingle.

Familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Another forgotten memory.

Looking behind him, he spotted the bag upturned on the ground with something out of it. It almost seemed to shimmer under the moonlight coming in through the open window.

And as soon as he took the fallen object in his hands his brows furrowed.

It was big, almost as big as half his head, and black. There was some kind of rope tied to the ends of it and eyes in the center of that small bizarre thing.

He recalled Clara’s exaggerated care for her bag, figuring now that it was most likely for this item and its possible fragility.

The more he stared at it, the more there was something tickling his mind.

And it turned into a deafening ringing that caused him to blink several times before he heard a muffled voice and saw blurred images of that same object and a young woman showing how to use it.

“Bring this to the back of your head, then this to the front.”

Like a puppet, he led that rope behind his head and the large part in front of his eyes. It fit like a glove.

“And press the button on the left side.”

He skimmed lightly for a prominent spot until he found it.

Through that device, a spiral of colors appeared before his eyes as the ground beneath his feet seemed to disappear into thin air before he felt it again.

Now he could only see white, and he quickly took that thing off, finding himself in a completely white and empy small room. A sliding metal door opened ahead of him and he hesitantly stepped out.

What he saw left him totally shocked.

There were pictures and drawings of a lot of people posted on the walls, but the ones he recognized immediately were Lesser Lord Kusanali, the Raiden Shogun, the traveler, their fellow flying being.

And himself. In all his forms.

To his left was a chair that had small wheels instead of feet and a kind of desk with another strange invention on it; there were almost transparent windows in which one showed a picture of flowers and writing in a small square while the other showed letters and symbols.

They were not part of the alphabet of the Teyvat language, so he could not tell which letters they were.

Next to them was yet another one with an almost mouse-like shape.

Attracted, he tried to press the arrow symbol pointing to the left located in the middle of that rectangular window, and a female voice suddenly boomed in the room.

She had used a welcoming tone, however, he did not understand what she had said except for a few words.

Xu Shi Han.

He was sure it was a name.

It was then that his gaze landed on a frame. A picture frame where Clara was smiling together with other people.

What was a picture of her doing here? Was he going insane?

Where the heck was he?

Raising his head, he looked out of that large window that gave a view of huge, long, light-filled buildings and the dark sky.

This made him come to a realization.

He was in another world.

He looked at the picture frame again.

Clara’s world.

She had gotten to Teyvat with that same machine that had taken him here.

He clutches on it still in his hand, overwhelmed by that discovery.

Then who was Xu Shi Han? A friend of hers? A workmate? Both?

Or was this all a hallucination?

Sudden sequences occupied his mind, almost causing him to lose his balance and grunt from the incessant pounding in his head.

He cast a glance at the device in his hand and decided to go back and ask the young woman for an explanation.

It was better to be direct this time, she might even have a solution for those headaches and disconnected memories.

It was beginning to irritate him.

However, as soon as he entered that white room again, put the object on and pressed the button, he had to grit his teeth and hold his head.

It felt like it was being hammered. Repeatedly and relentlessly.

A searing burning melting his brain until it reached his legs, which gave way under the weight of the pain.

There were voices.

It was unbearable!

Voices. Images.

He wanted it to stop!

Giggles. Cries. Screams.

Stop! Enough! No!

Please!

He inhaled deeply and his eyes were drawn to someone standing in front of him with their back to him.

Trees, plants and bushes began to dip into scenery.

Tilting his head to the side, curiosity crept in at the sight of that person dressed in clothes he had never seen before.

She had also removed something black and large from her head and was looking around. He could only see half of her face but wonder and excitement were visible on it despite standing slightly away from him.

Adjusting the basket full of harvested fruit on his hip, he moved a foot forward but found a small tree branch under it, alerting the young woman who spun around at the noise.

It was like being struck by a lightining. She was really beautiful.

“Oh, forgive me! I didn’t mean to frighten you!” he exclaimed in a soft voice, shaking his head. Confusion was visible in her features, and his fingers began to play with part of the rim of the basket, feeling shy, “Are you lost, by any chance?”

She let out a sigh, “I… think so. Am I on a island?”

Even her voice was melodious.

“You are. Kannazuka, more specifically in Tatarasuna.”

He saw her eyes widen and look at him intently, almost as if she wanted to see through him.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh! I’m Kabukimono, pleased to meet you!” he smiled, enthusiastic about making new acquaintances. “And you are?”

She seemed to have relaxed a little, smiling back at him, “Shi Han. The pleasure is all mine, Kabukimono.”

Technically it was not a lie, yet she was puzzled by the situation because it was not supposed to start that way.

Had she gotten the main settings wrong? A reversed scenario loading? She recalled checking several times before putting the machine into operation.

Glancing one more time at the trees, the bushes, with the chirping of the birds around and the sound of their shoes against the ground, the feeling of experiencing such a realistic sensory stimulus never ceased to charm her.

Her gaze fell on the puppet leading the way to the village after telling her that she could stay with them as long as she wanted. The shy but lively way he interacted with her turned the corner of her lips upward.

“We’re here!” he informed her, quickening his pace.

Chatter and laughter reached her ears, and she stepped out of the way in time to avoid being bumped by two children chasing each other.

She followed Kabukimono with her eyes as he walked over to this familiar young man with a red lock of hair to show him the basket of fruits, being repaid with a smile and probably words of praise.

After that, his attention switched to her, thus bringing the other to look at her as well, and she decided to approach for introductions. She then understood why he looked familiar; he was Niwa Hisahide, the one she would blame for the island tragedy in the game.

They appeared like real people. Having them face her really did have a strange effect.

She certainly could not say that they were fictitious characters and was trying out the game in virtual reality to attract more players, so she had opted for a simpler and quite believable explanation: she was traveling but had gotten lost and her possessions had been stolen.

She had also immediately found a bag to put her VR headset in to avoid curious questions.

Kabukimono had already thrown a quizzical look at it, which was not supposed to happen, since it was not meant to be exposed to the eyes of the characters.

Even if there were inventions here, explaining the use of a VR headset could have involved complications in the game which she was not inclined to have.

Everything had to go smoothly, and her intent had been achieved.

She wore the local clothes, got along well with the villagers, and helped with whatever errands were available.

Still, Kabukimono's reluctant behavior around her had not escaped her notice.

Conversations were brief ― almost nonexistent ― and he would run off, yet he had been so friendly during the first meeting.

These interactions were odd; she did not remember including them as options. Actually, nothing was as she recollected setting them up.

As he was now with the elderly women who spoke to him as he smiled and listened eagerly.

“Don't worry. He had these reactions with us at first too,” Niwa's voice caught her attention as the young man walked up beside her with a hand on his hip. "He just needs some time, you'll see how he won't pull away again."

"But it's been days," she sighed. "And I'm not doing who knows what action to deserve this attitude again. I'm approaching in a gentle way."

He hummed thoughfully, “You are right about that. But... it may be that you are different.”

“Different?”

He smiled, “Sometimes we have different impressions of some people. Honestly speaking, yours leaves its mark, Shi Han. You release positive energy that relaxes and makes one feel at home. Apparently, your energy has a powerful effect on him and that makes him shy and clumsy.” Niwa chuckled at the dumbfounded face she had while he was talking, and shoved the sheath with the sword inside into her hands. “Now take this and hand it to him. He lost his previous sword and had asked me to forge another.”

Awakening from her initial astonishment, she tried to speak but he was already on his way.

So she huffed out a laugh and the only thing she said to him was a "thank you!" to which he responded with a shake of his hand.

She hadn't really noticed that he had a sword in his other hand, caught up as she was in the Kabukimono dilemma.

Niwa's confession had left her speechless. So much for the fictional character!

If they had told her that she would hear such a thing from a nonexistent person, she would have laughed in their faces.

Glancing at Kabukimono, she caught him staring at her before returning his eyes to the women who were walking away after the talk ended. She almost chuckled as she walked toward him to fulfill her errand.

“Hi. Here, from Niwa,” she spoke kindly, showing him the weapon he then took from her hands. 

“Thank you,” it was almost a whisper.

“I heard you practice sword dance. It must be difficult.”

“Not very.”

“You put in a lot of effort, though”, she smiled. “This is not to be underestimated. Although I have never seen you dance, I know enough about this.”

He had not responded, he just looked at her. She seriously believed that she was hated at this point and that Niwa's words were just to reassure her.

"Would you like to... watch me?"

That caught her off guard, but she widened her smile, "I would love to!"

She hadn't really expected that! It was a really huge leap of progress!

It certainly had not been easy to ask her to see him dance, but she was really happy about it. And now that she was witnessing that dance, to say that he was talented was an understatement!

The smooth and accurate movements, the relaxed facial features, and the passion-filled eyes with which he performed the poses was nothing short of mesmerizing.

As a backdrop, the trees, the river and the light wind that had risen made it almost magical.

She couldn’t stop looking at him.

He was so immersed in it that he seemed to have forgotten her presence after ending his dance, so she applauded him, catching his attention.

"That was... magnificent. I don't know what else to say.”

His eyes drifted to the sword, playing with its hilt, “I’m honored to be complimented.”

Shi Han was completely taken hostage by the tenderness he had awakened in her, and without thinking about it she had mussed his long hair in an affectionate gesture.

Kabukimono had only blinked in surprise.

"Oh, forgive me!" she pulled away, raising her hands in surrender. "You were so sweet that I moved unintentionally. Please, don’t hate me!”

“Hate you? I would never!” he quickly shook his head, almost offended by that.

“Oh. I thought… you hated me.”

“Never! I’m just…” now he looked anywhere but at her, what was probably embarrassment invading him. “You are so beautiful and kind…”

She would have had an explosion of diabetes if he had not stopped!

How in the heck was he so, so sweet? He was a precious cinnamon roll!

“So it is not a disturbance if I request to see your dance again?”

“Absolutely not.”

“That’s a relief then. And… thank you for your compliments.”

The response she received was sparkling eyes and a toothy smile.

And the following days Kabukimono had left all shyness behind and kept staying close to her like a child trailing after his mother.

He would smile constantly, seek advice on even the smallest things, ask to pick fruits or just go for a walk together.

A total different character.

You could not look at him and not think of protecting him from any danger.

To think that he would change his personality after that tragic event that he would soon have to endure was really a shame, yet the story had to have footholds to continue.

Every action and reaction was calculated and giving them drastic plot changes could have consisted of inconsistencies in moving forward.

Messing up was not an option.

She was going to enjoy the course of events without a hitch.

And watching Kabukimono had become her favorite pastime; he was so adorable and innocent. Like now as he placed the firewood under the cauldron.

Surely he had noticed her fixed gaze on him, for she could see him playing with the sleeves of his robe.

“Asahi is late.”

She chuckled, “He wants to do it himself, as small as he is it will take him a while. He wants to be useful, like you.”

“He shouldn't tire himself though, since he's not very well.”

“I know, but let him do it. It's really cute to see him so hard-working.”

Asahi, the sick child who would add to Kabukimono's suffering when he would pass away.

He was already ill, that tragedy would take place sooner than later.

Another detail she did not remember at all was his name, because she had not given him one. He was just supposed to be an addition for the character that would become Scaramouche.

But if she dug her heels in over everything, she would start to get headaches, so it was best not to question and just comply.

“Water is here!” the small enthusiastic voice of Asahi caught their attention and they saw him almost trip and tip over the bucket full of water.

“That's too much water, Asahi!” Shi Han burst out laughing, helping him move closer to the fire.

“We still need it!”

“Yes, yes. Pour it slowly or you'll ruin the firewood.”

The teasing, the smiles, the chattering, the caresses. These heart-warming interactions had always fascinated Kabukimono.

Every human feeling and emotion captivated him.

There was something mysterious and inexplicable about the way they worked and manifested themselves.

However, the one who attracted him like a moth to a candle was Shi Han.

The manifestation of her emotions was a subtle but strong trait; the change of them could be sudden or slow.

He often found himself staring at her more than he should, completely invaded by a strange feeling that a puppet should not experience.

He had no heart; it was impossible.

Could it perhaps have been her aura? It was not to be ruled out. The villagers also felt at ease with her and almost considered her family.

“Is something wrong?” Shi Han's gentle voice and her face so close to his made him pull back a little from the sudden entry into his view. “I called you several times. Do you feel strange?”

“Oh, no. It’s just… You seem to feel so much happiness…”

“Are you not happy?” Asahi asked confused.

“I could, if I didn’t have…” Unconsciously, his hand went to his chest. “… a void here.”

“You mean, you wish you had a heart?” He nodded and heard Shi Han sigh, sitting next to him. “Mmh, have you ever heard this story before?” the question gained their attention as the child placed the bowl of food on the floor, “There once was a puppet soldier whose greatest wish was to be with a ballerina doll forever and ever. But the soldier didn’t have a heart and didn’t know where his feeling came from. One day, his owner didn’t want him anymore and threw him away into a fire. But even in the flames, his eyes never left the ballerina.” He smiled, ”The next day, the people found a tiny heart in the ashes left by the fire.”

He exhaled, sadness filling his voice, “Probably ashes in the shape of a heart, but that’s not a real heart.”

“Maybe. But what if…” He tilted his head to the side, “… hearts can be born from ashes?”

That would have changed things, but he was not sure.

“You don’t need a heart,” Shi Han spoke, grabbing his hand and slight sparks orerran his body. “The fact that you worry about being empty and that you might not reciprocate in the same way shows that you feel something.” A tender smile played on her lips, eyes looking at him with affection, “You are able to express emotions without it. You are more human that most people. Am I right, Asahi?”

“She is!” he had almost shouted it while nodding firmly.

Her face lit up, as if he had remembered something, “Oh! Asahi! Your handmade gift!”

The child made the same expression, got up and ran to a wooden box, pulling out a doll.

Kabukimono was quite confused.

After the child had gotten closer, he noticed the details of the object better. It was him. Its hair and clothing were the same as his, and it had what looked like a small tear under its eye.

“I'm aware that it didn't turn out that well, but I still wanted to give you a gift.”

He was at loss of words. He had a knot in his throat and his eyes were stinging.

He grabbed the doll and stared at it, a smile forming on his lips.

“Look, you’re smiling,” Shi Han rubbed his shoulder in a comforting way. “You’re happy, Mono.”

“Mono?”

She sucked the air through her teeth before grinning, “Kabukimono is too long. Mono is better.”

He smiled back, feeling shy again but with a tingling sensation.

He heard Asahi giggling, but a coughing fit struck him, bringing Shi Han to stroke his back and him to look at him worriedly.

“Everything is fine, just coughing.”

“You should still get back into bed. I’ll accompany you.”

He followed them with his gaze until they vanished into the other room and went back with his eyes on the doll. He touched its hair, its trim and stitching.

A gift made with affection.

A goal he did not think he could achieve. He thought people would not consider him; lacking a heart he might not feel empathy, or understand certain actions dictated by certain feelings. Consequently, causing estrangements on their part.

Yet they were friendly, loving, and hospitable. They treated him like a son, an older or younger brother, a friend. He felt loved and always wanted to be loved.

And very much loved by Shi Han.

It had become a permanent fixture. He did not want to do anything that could lead her to be bothered by his presence; he wanted to be praised.

More and more.

She had become the first person he spoke to as soon as the sun came out. A strong force continually pushed him toward her. And he did not mind.

Just being near her gave him warmth and love. He could sense it.

Like now, as the sound of the flowing river was heard, sitting at its bank and looking at the night sky.

It was better to say that he was watching her admire the stars.

“I love this view. I've never seen so many stars light up the night.”

“Where you come from there aren't many?”

She shook her head, “No. Let's just say they've… dimmed over time.”

“You will see them often by staying here then.”

She had opened her mouth, but had not spoken. This jolted him slightly and he began to feel a squeeze in his chest at that nonverbal response.

“Are you… leaving?”

Shi Han had definitely noticed the sudden change in mood, because she was hesitating, but she eventually nodded.

“I’m traveling, so… I’m moving all the time.” He turned his head to the other side and pulled his knees to his chest. “I also have to stay with my family. They definitely miss me. But this doesn’t me- wait, what’s wrong? Are you crying?”

Hearing her concerned voice gave him a sense of victory.

First she would sneak in and then decide to leave without thinking about what she had left behind? Without thinking about how he would feel? Was she really going to leave him? Why?

He didn't want to!

Her hand moved his shoulder slightly so she could look at him, but he resisted. He heard her calling him, but he did not answer.

He felt betrayed.

“Mono, please, listen to me!”

“I am.”

“You aren’t. You didn't hear a word I said because you’re still like this.”

He stood up abruptly and looked at her, taking steps back before halting and showing her bag in his hand.

Shi Han had widened her eyes, taken aback and confused by his action.

“Speak the truth. It has to do with that object you always carry in here with you, doesn't it? The way you take care of that thing has always intrigued me. You never show it to anyone, you keep it hidden and you seem obsessed with it.”

She let out a long sigh with her eyes closed, sensing the situation getting out of hand.

She was probably thinking that she would never have thought of such an overreaction on his part and that she didn't even know how they had gotten to this point.

He didn't know either. All he knew was that a trigger had been set off.

“It is because it’s an important object for me. It has an emotional value. It’s a gift.” She explained in a soft voice and stretched out her hands, “Come here, I’ll show you.”

He kept looking at her, stalling for a while until he gave up.

Shi Han reached into the bag and pulled out the object.

"Bring this behind your head," she had lifted that thing above her head and brought with one hand what looked like a strange rope behind it. “Then this to the front,” the large part went in front of her eyes. “And press the button on the left side,” her finger stayed on that specified spot but didn’t press down. “That’s it. But since I break a lot of things, and you know that, I don't use it much to avoid breaking it.” She took it off and smiled at him before putting that thing back in the bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Sorry if I startled you. I was going to talk to everybody about it these days. And I was telling you earlier that I would come back to visit anyway, and we may as well write to each other.”

He lowered his head, distress overtaking him.

Of course there were these options, but they were not like having her by his side all the time.

It was different.

“But I will not see you every day.” his voice had come out hoarse, as if he were tearing up.

“You can travel with me. And we can take Asahi with us, too. If you want, we can ask Niwa as well. I don't know if he would agree to travel, but it doesn't hurt to try.” He raised his head, stunned by the proposal. Shi Han cupped his cheeks, her fingers wiping away tears he did not know were coming out, “There, there, stop crying. Have you calmed down? Do you like my idea? No more sadness?”

He nodded, inhaling a deep breath to cool down.

This myriad of emotions were making him dizzy. And what she did next almost caused him to lose strength in his legs.

She giggled, tousled his hair and rested her lips on his forehead. After that, she hugged him. His face leaning against the crook of her neck, warm and soft skin touching.

“You’re such a good boy.”

Her fingers run through his hair, stroking gently and slowly.

He couldn’t think straight. He was over the moon.

He hugged back, tightening his grip as much as he could without hurting her.

It was like being wrapped in a cocoon of warmth, comfort and fondness. Safe from any danger, feeling special, and have no negative thoughts.

She was the last piece to complete his wish.

Like it was your home.

It felt like home.

He had attained peace. A feeling so wonderful that he wished it would last for eternity.

But against his every thought and will, that newly completed paradise was gone.

Black smoke had begun to surround them, and the villagers began to get sick. They were getting worse and worse, and no one knew how the heck to stop the disease.

And they were dying. They were dying and dying one by one. A chain reaction that had spread terror and despair. And the helplessness about the situation didn’t help.

Hence, he decided to ask for help from the one who had created him, the Electro Archon herself.

He did not want to leave Shi Han, Asahi and Niwa alone, but he had to do something.

When he arrived in Inazuma, no one would let him in to have an audience with the Archon. With tears in his eyes and desperation clouding his senses, he did not for a single moment stop asking about his creator, displaying the golden feather around his neck, left by her in his hands.

Even though Yae Miko appeared in Ei's place, he begged to save the villagers, on his knees, his hands grasping her clothes. Shepromised help, and he believed her.

After returning to Tatarasuna, he saw Shi Han standing outside the house in the distance.

“Shi Han! The shogunate will come here! Let’s inform Niwa and-“

Now close by, he could notice Shi Han's dull eyes and bare feet. A bad omen took hold of him and he ran toward Asahi's bedroom.

When he saw him, Asahi seemed to be asleep.

Deeply asleep.

He had a lump in his throat, his hands began to shake.

That was a joke, wasn’t it? Asahi was definitely joking. It was not the best moment to do that, but he was playing around.

For sure.

“Asahi, it’s not good time to play. You need to wake up. The… The shogunate is coming and…”

One touch and he suddenly pulled his hand away, as if electrocuted.

Asahi was cold to the touch. Too cold.

No. No! No! No! Please, no!

Why? Why was all this happening? What had they done wrong to undergo such a thing?

The child’s words crossed his mind and he smiled through the tears.

He was here. Asahi was still here. His heart was still here.

And without a second thought, the flames enveloped both him and the house. He waited, waited until he could see it, but there was nothing there.

No heart from the ashes but anger and sadness made an appearance.

He clenched his hands into fists, tears that would not stop falling, “How dare you die like this, and break your promise to me?” He sneered, “What a joke… It’s just ashes, nothing left but ashes.”

He lifted his head up, a deep sigh leaving him. He stayed like that for a while before walking out.

He still had his Shi Han. He needed her hugs and sweet words.

He needer her.

However, he did not expect to see her with that black object on her head, her hands still on each side of it.

Hesitantly, he spoke, “Shi Han?”

Their eyes met, and what hers conveyed made him even more desperate.

“What… are you doing?”

Shi Han gulped, lips quivering and voice shaking, “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

It was too much.

Tragedy was to come, but she did not imagine it so suddenly. She had not even had time to breathe. It was all going too fast, and witnessing it firsthand had never been in her plans. To see the life of someone you spend time with vanish before her eyes without being able to do anything to stop it was the most deplorable torture there was.

Waking up from the catatonic state with the smell of smoke from the flames Kabukimono had started burning the house in which she had memories was another pain.

She could not take it.

It was all too realistic; she did not even believe she was in her own game anymore. Maybe she was and there had been mistakes during the data transfer.

She didn’t care anymore. She wanted to get the fuck out.

If she had entered in the game with the VR, she could as well come out of it.

Fear was dominating her and she didn’t give a shit about anything or anybody else. She couldn’t.

She was doing what was right for her sanity. And she also felt so bad for that.

“What are you saying? I… I don’t get it.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I can’t stay here any longer.”

“Wait, wait! What do you mean? What are you trying to say? Where are you going? Where-“

Adjusting her VR, she pressed the button and everything was reduced into a spiral of colors. Seeing the familiar white room again, she collapsed on the floor, relief taking over her senses. Hearing her friends' and co-fonders’ voice put a definite end to that long moment.

But for Kabukomono had been an istant. A light and then nothing. She was gone.

His Shi Han was gone.

Where? Where had she gone? What had she done to make herself disappear? And why? So was it a lie? She did want to leave him?!

His head hammered incessantly, it felt like needles penetrating and pushing deep. His pupils constricted, a silent scream leaving his body, his hands clutching his head to try to stop the pain.

It hurt. It was unberable.

“Shi Han! Shi Han!” he sobbed. “Don’t go! Come back! Why are you doing this?! Please! Please, don’t leave me! Shi Han, please! Don’t leave me!”

Shi Han exhaled, almost running out of air. After regaining oxygen, she sat on the edge of the bed and a sigh of relief left her lips.

She was in her room, probably after she fell asleep and was brought in.

That was terrifying.

Dreaming of those events was not really something she expected. She had had nightmares after returning from here, but they had faded after a few months.

Guilt was kicking in again.

She needed a glass of fresh water for her dry throat.

Movements alerted her and she got up, spotting Hikaru under the moonbeams picking up her bag and placing it on the chair.

“Oh, it’s you. Was it you who brought me here?”

“Did you think it was someone else?”

“I… never thought you would do that,” she giggled. “but thank you.”

He just hummed, “Your bag fell and this thing slipped,” he lifted one of his hand to show her VR, the other one on his hip. “Nothing broken, you can rest assured.”

She let out a sigh of relief, “Ah, thank God- Archons. It’s a precious item for me.”

She walked over, checking that nothing was really broken, and put it back in the bag, then holding the latter to herself and returning to the bed to place it on the nightstand.

She wanted to hit herself because she had almost made a stupid mistake. Here they were not thanking God but the Archons.

It had never happened before, but the air was imbued with something strange.

It was heavy, tense.

“Is something wrong? You look nervous, Shi Han.”

“Oh, it’s al-“

Her heart skipped a beat, turning pale. She turned around to look at him, searching for something in his eyes that suggested she had heard wrong.

She had certainly heard him wrong. A trick of her ears. He didn’t know her real name.

“What…?” it was almost inaudible and she saw him tilt his head to the side. “Oh, sorry, Hikaru. I thought- nothing, don’t worry,” she shook her head and gesticulated with her hands. “I really should sleep.”

“Hikaru was the best name you could have chosen. I really had an enlightenment in my life.” One step forward, one more, another, as he continued, “But giving it to me through the Traveler was not necessary. I would rather you had given it to me in person.”

He was there, close to her. Too close. She was petrified.

His irises seemed to glow in the dark. Threatening, smothering.

She did not know how or when, but she felt pressure on her arm, was pulled to the side, and the sound of something being broken echoed the room.

Her eyes settled on the nightstand, where her bag was no longer. Her lips began to tremble, her face to distort with fear, and her breathing became labored.

His foot was still on top of it, the VR inside shredded.

He knew. He knew her real name, about her.

Fuck! Fuck!

How was this possibile? How did he find out?! Did her presence really lead to this? She had been careful, avoiding anything that might spoil the plan. Really!

Realization kicked in and she stared at him, while his eyes had never left her and had watched her every facial change.

“You used my VR!”

“Is that what it is called? It is certainly a wonderful invention.” With his hand still holding her arm, he drew her to him, chests touching and faces a short distan apart. “It made me see your world. Our past.” She could feel his breath against her lips. “You don't know... how painful it was after you left me. Asahi, Niwa, you. I saw the darkness, and called your names. Yours especially.” His other arm went around her waist, pressing their bodies together as tightly as he could, ”I wanted your hugs, your caresses, your reassuring words. You were my support, my fixed thought. But after a while, I began to forget you, only you. Probably because you are connected to my world and can manipulate a few things. And I bet the stars and the sky are part of it, aren't they?”

She gulped, trying to push him away, but she couldn’t.

It was happening too fast, she couldn’t react. Her head was spinning, her pupils shaking.

“But I’m also aware of how what happened has worn you down. You tried to make things better, giving me a new rebirth.” He gave her a knowing lopsided smile, a sinister glint in his eyes, “Everything is okay, honey. Your suffering is coming to an end. You will be reborn with a new you. I promise.”

A flashback of her stroking his hair and humming a melody while he was in a coma popped into her mind. He had recited the same words she had said.

He had heard it all.

“I'm sure you didn't do it all by yourself. Someone helped you. But even knowing the current situation, Lesser Lord Kusanali did not act on it. I assume that no one can do anything if you are involved.” His hand left her arm, which fell dead weight, and moved towards her chin, cupping it, “Am I right, Clara?”

She coudn’t breathe.

Demanding, controlling, out of his mind.

“Am I right?”

She breathed out, “Yes.”

“It means no one can meddle between us. Is that correct again?”

“... Yes.”

His face lit up, a smile making her skin crawl.

He giggled, caressing her cheek. He placed his lips on her forehead, before cupping her cheeks and kissing her.

She was squeezing her eyes, paralyzed.

He nipped at her lip, causing her to flinch and taking advantage of this, he swept his tongue between her lips, tangling and tinkling their tongues together.   

He broke the kiss, staring at her with eyes filled with confirmed madness.

And hugged her. Her face against the crook of his neck.

“You’re such a good girl.”

The paradox was paralytic and finding a way out erased.

She realized that she had taken Nahida's words lightly.

But what could she have known? How could she have known that he would behave this way? These were not excuses! She could not have foreseen this!

But unconsciously she had believed that she would not arouse suspicion. Foolishly she had gotten too close.

And she had brought disaster with her.

Memories had surfaced that should not be there.

An unwanted insight into something that should not have been there.

He was so attached to her that his affection had transcended time and space, outclassing that betrayal and seeing the positive side of her redemption toward him that would also be projected onto her game, having a close connection between parallel and video game realities.

But she was the culprit. She had decided to test the waters by prolonging her stay in a place that was beginning to seem strange to her.

And she was paying the consequences. Willy-nilly.

[deathlywounded]

“The tailor’s hound” part 6/6

A short story after the events of Baldurs Gate about Athios and Astarion, set in an AU where they both decided to step away from “what they do best” (mostly, at least) to pursue the second thing they do gracefully. Athios is a florist and deals in pigments, perfumes, and rare botanical ingredients made from his own buds. Astarion has his own small tailoring shop, which is in high demand and mysteriously only open at night.

I just want to add that every piece of clothing Athios wears is touched by Astarion's hands first, I can just imagine him being angry as hell seeing the destroyed hems of this robe and grumbling about all the other robes and suits he made for him. What he can't understand (or maybe he does) is that on one hand, Athios doesn't want to mess up the things he made for him, they're like treasures to him. And on the other, we all have a favorite "work" outfit. Let the man go and come back with his mysterious black rags. (They used to be perfectly neat, let me tell you, but Ath loves them to that extent.)