#because WHY IS HIS CLOAK UP THE CHIMNEY!?

[excaliburinthelakeonpage394]

I'd like to remind everyone of that episode where Merlin just dumps Arthur's armour behind a chest... like...the WHOLE suit. Just shoves it behind a chest...

...I like to think Arthur finds it one day, or finds his sword shoved under his bed covers, or all his moth-eaten shirts are tucked behind the wardrobe... and Arthur just... never mentions it. I like to think he just keeps a mental log of Merlin's hiding places and whenever he can't find something, he starts looking under and behind things...

Wait a damn minute Merlin is an actual nightmare of a servant. Imagine you're the Prince and all of a sudden and only two seconds after surviving an assassination attempt you're stuck with this scrawny, clumsy fucking dude with a really shifty air about him who spends literal days in the tavern with zero notice, steals your food, tried to spy on a guest, doesn't let you hunt, can never fucking be found when you need him even though he is the literal manservant to the prince, which you would think should be a priority but apparently he has better things to do, and is always talking like he's the only thing standing between you and certain death???? Then he gives you attitude? Literally I would throw things at him too. Arthur is misunderstood he's actually being too nice

[haveihitanerve]

Gotham Protects Her Own

This was actually the original of my other post-

umm and yall really seemed to like that one- so here ya go :) a jason centred one:

Willis Todd was not a good father. Jason knew this, and still, he stayed. Catherine Todd was a drug addict, but she had been a good mother. Once. She was the reason he stayed. But Catherine took too much, and Willis beat her too heavily, and she was gone. Jason did not stay long after that. He disappeared, falling into the cracks of Gotham, allowing the city to envelop him in her arms and shield him. She had always been more alive to him than to others, he knew. Gotham was the mother he never had, the protector, his watcher, the one he could count on. She was reluctant, when Bruce found him, to let him go, but she allowed it, embracing him again with open arms every night as Robin.

In Bruce, Jason finally found someone who thought of Gotham the way he did, he found someone who found solstice in her presence, and protected her. Gotham treated Bruce in a way she never treated Jason, not better, by any means, but when Bruce fell the shadows themselves seemed to leap from the walls to cushion him, the roofs cradled his body as he jumped across them, the alleyways seemed to part for him. Jason learned, as Robin, as he got older, that had anyone really tried, they would have found him. And he learned, as Robin, as he became older, that some people had. They simply hadn’t. Gotham loved him, with his spark and his fire, and his flair for dramatics.

Jason learned, laughing, that Bruce wasn’t half as dramatic as anyone thought, his city was. Jason himself had been there on plenty of occasions where shadows seemed to prowl behind him, making him appear larger than he was, had stood next to him as civilians looked up and seen the flash of lightning, the deafening boom that shook the city a second later. Had felt himself the phantom wind that appeared and brushed Bruce’s cloak out lovingly, billowing it out behind him. Jason hadn’t been able to contain his laughter. He could hear hers next to him, delighting in his appreciation, and soon Jason found himself with the same gifts. Shadows covered him when he ran, chimneys seemed to move out of the way for him and block the path of everyone else, and the streets were always connected for him. 

Then he died. He could feel Gotham reaching for him, her child, her golden son, the boy she longed to protect, but Joker had moved to the edge of the city, and her reach was not as strong there. But Bruce’s home was in the middle, and even through death Jason could feel her tender strokes down his cheek, the press of her lips to his skin. Maybe that was why he survived.

As Red Hood, trained League assassin, Jason feared returning to Gotham, feared her wrath. But when he stepped onto the docks of his home, he felt he could finally breathe properly again. And Gotham rejoiced. She cradled him in her underworld, nurtured him in her shadows. She would not go against Bruce, Jason knew, but she still helped him, and when he and Bruce faced off, Jason almost felt afraid as her presence receded, refusing to pick between her children. It didn’t matter. Because Bruce felt it too, and he understood. 

Jason Todd belongs to the city of Gotham, and Gotham cradles her son, protecting him from those who wished him harm, saving him from the hatred of those who were not his own. 

Gotham protects her own. 

[octopiys]

I wanted to publish the story here as it's become something I've loved writing so far :)

Find the desc. here

The Terrible Fire of Old Regret (It's Honey on My Tongue)

Pairings: SoapGhost, GazRoach

Word count: good question

Cw: blood/violence, minor death, lots of world building, allusions to Ghost's backstory

The day was cooling as the sun set, casting orange across the kingdom. He could see it from his frosted over window, in the tallest tower that he had insisted on staying in. It was his favorite place, his favorite perch, the cold cobblestone placed by builders belonging to kings from centuries past. Horse drawn carriages dotted the town, tiny lights that moved in and out of the castle's stone walls.

The wind blew through the tops of the trees, twisting the smoke from stacked chimneys down in the village, people doting about in long skirts, or tied up pants, retreating into the calm warmths of their cottages.

The baker to his bakery that smelled like sugar and bread.

The weaponsmith to his home of metalworking, to a wife who was as equally enthusiastic.

The knights to their quarters, letting their swords down, leaving the polishing for the morning.

The tapestries here were that woven by his mother, a Lady past, lost to illness in the young years of plague. It was a nasty thing, that clouded and bubbled like a swarm of enraged wasps. It was not only his mother who shared these tapestries, some belonged to another woman, torn gone to battle. She was a soldier, or at least, under a guise, leaving behind a son only a few years older than he.

His name was Kyle, but John called him Gaz. It was a childish nickname, with a story too long to tell, but it was simpler this way. They had grown up together, under the Ladies and Lordships of the King, but in the span of two years, their lives changed.

Kyle had just turned four, starting to drive his mother up the wall. Like his father, she had charged off into the war, one started long ago from the eastern european waves of the Umbra Comitatu. She was lost in a fight they knew they wouldn't have won from the start. She was a Lady very close to the King, and he had sworn to her dying breath to take care of her son, who was waiting in his cottage for parents who would never return.

It was not a known fact that King Johnathan Price could not have children. It often skipped a few generations, but he knew the issues. It was not because he didn't have a queen by his side, he was above that. But there were some ins and outs that he had taken. With His Ladyship's passing, the King stayed true to his word, taking in her young son, Kyle. This solved half of his issue of having an heir, and being able to pass on his knowledge and legacy to another.

Underneath King Johnathan's wing, lay a different, equally strange boy.

John was very young, maybe one, almost two, when the plagues had come and stolen his mother from him. Another trusted Lady in the King's cabinet, but she was no soldier. Instead, she was far from it, specializing in the arts. She had an eye for detail, coming in handy with cartography, but she spent her days specializing in weaving. Magnificent works of hers dotted the walls of the castle where they had stayed. Her very soul had been woven into the cloths of drapes, cloaks, carpets, or other royal items. She was known across the kingdom for it. And she had left behind a son with no father to his name.

While Kyle had taken after his mother in swordsmanship, the younger son, John, with an equally stupid nickname of Soap, had taken up artistry. Now, he had no hand for weaving, couldn't get himself to focus enough to stay still, but he had a very delicate eye for detail. He involved himself more in sketches, drawings and paintings, that kind of artwork, but that did not mean he wasn't skilled in other fields.

When you are the King's sons, he trains you to be the best. And you are the best.

Just above his private guard that he had dubbed the One-Four-One.

Soap never really knew why it was called that. Maybe it had something to do with ranks and numbers, or the certain kinds of people inducted into the knightly force. He didn't understand it. But he loved to watch the soldiers train beneath his window, how they sparred against each other, bloodthirsty and ruthless, yet not drawing a single scratch beneath the armor of their opposition. It was mesmerizing.

The clang of swords against another, the dull thunk of fists against leather, the sounds of battle enthralled him. While Gaz, his brother, was more interested in the actual battle, Soap took up a different skill.

A new development on the horizon, something that King Price had gotten his hands on early. Gunpowder.

Soap had discovered that when you set fire to it....

God, it was wonderful.

That's what actually set him into his father's good graces.

"You're zonin' out again, Soap, chin up." Gaz threw a pillow at him, snapping the man out of his thoughts.

"Ayeeee fock off fer once, Gaz, ah swear, ye can never mind yer own-" Soap threw the pillow back at him without noticing the door had opened, and the pillow smacked the King across the face. It fell limply as the boys scrambled to their feet.

"Sh- Sorry, Father, we didn't see you come in." Gaz tried to cover for him and Soap did his best to agree. Price frowned, and discarded it, kicking the pillow away.

"Boys... I'm not sure what I expected." The King's low voice grumbled as he looked around their room.

Two beds sat at opposite ends of the room, large wooden posts stretching from the floor at each corner of the bed, barely missing the high ceilings. The beds themselves were curtained in red velvet, a royal color, emblazoned with the royal family crest, something they had come to accept as their own. Their room was actually pretty messy, clothes strewn about from a trunk that Gaz was desperately trying to pack. In the morning, he and Price would travel to their soldiers to give a bit of an energy boost.

The war had turned wayside a fortnight ago, when the rain had slicked the mud too far down, locking the enemy in the high ground. They had lost many men to the waves of arrows fired from places they couldn't see or reach. The King had only returned yesterday to retrieve Kyle, and head out again.

The mood slipped from in between their fingers quicker than watery dirt, more oily than blood, as Price scratched his beard, scraggly and unshaven.

"We're leaving at dawn, son. I thought you'd be more prepared than...." His eyes scanned the room once more. "This."

Gaz's face went hot with embarrassment. "Yes sir, I was almost done, but- er- Johnny was helpin' me reorganize, sir, you know, to get more room-"

"I was! Gotta- gotta fit in those.... maps...." Soap internally punched himself for speaking up, but still stood at attention as the sunset blinded him.

Price sighed, weary with loss and exhaustion, but he didn't question it. Soap noticed then that the King was still wearing his uniform, splattered with mud around the boots, and many dark stains that he didn't want to imagine the grief that sank into the fabric. Johnny tugged at the end of his sleeve anxiously. A loose thread. Unravel.

Unravel.

Unraveling.

"Johnny!" Gaz snapped on front of his face and wideyed, Soap looked back up.

"Sorry- what-?"

"Did you not-" Price groaned into his fist before cooling it off. "Tomorrow you meet with Lady Laswell to discuss your duties in our absence. I fear we may be gone longer than we wish, and I want you to be prepared for anything. Can you handle that?"

Johnny nodded, puffing out his chest, like he was bigger than he actually was. More to be proud of. "Of course, sir."

Price tipped his head, a smile crossed his face, the first gentle thing in weeks. "I expect you to see us depart in the morning." He looked between the two of them. There was a deep emotion in his eyes, shrouded in shadow and blood.

It was pride and fondness, he'd realize later, that filled the thick silence, seeping from the King himself. There was a final nod of his head, and Price adjusted his hat. "Good night, boys."

"Good night, Father."

"Fare thee well, Dad!"

Price paused in the door, giving him an odd look. Soap just happily waved in response.

The door shut with a slight slam, as doors did back then.

Johnny was suddenly hit in the face with a pillow. Again.

"You dumbass, this is why I do the talking!! Now I'm gonna be scolded the entire ride there, Soap, why-" Gaz collapsed face first onto his bed, still grumbling to himself.

"Buzz off ye prick! At least ye get to go somewhere!" He tossed a couple things into the case.

"But maps? Maps!? That's the best you got!?" Gaz turned around, pushing himself out of his warm covers to finish packing his things.

"Maps are important, Kyle!" He threw a wad of paper at the man for good measure.

The morning came too quick.

Soap was unprepared. Gaz was not.

The older prince was already up and dressed by the time Johnny came to, pulling himself out of his restless slumber.

He wore a sage green top beneath his armor, the family crest riding on his breastplate. His pants were checkered, two different shades of brown, thick enough fabric that the illnesses of the battlefield wouldn't attach themselves to him as he set foot down. Was his hair neat enough? Did his hair have to be neat for battle? He didn't think so. It was too late, anyways.

The sun was rising.

"Johnny!" Gaz hissed. "Wake up!"

"'M awake, I am-!" Soap insisted, sitting up and almost falling out of bed in the process. "What....?"

Gaz tossed a shirt at him. "Get dressed, I think we're supposed to be in the courtyard already, we gotta go! Help me with my trunk-"

"Shite, hold on-" Soap stumbled out of bed, tugging on a shirt, and a hopefully decent pair of shorts. Trying to step into both of his shoes, he grabbed one end of the trunk. "C'mon, help me out!"

Gaz lifted the other end, and the brothers staggered out of the room.

Twenty minutes later, they had gotten it loaded up into the carriage, and now they waited on Price in silence. They dare not look at one another, their fear of sudden loss paralyzing.

Not once in twenty two years had the brothers been separated. Okay, maybe that wasn't entirely true, he means separated to this extent. No contact. Looming threat of danger and death, with a risk too great to comprehend.

Now of course, it could go completely fine. But they've seen enough to know that they wouldn't scrape by unscathed. Fate had too much on their shoulders, like the sky of Atlas, bearing down to force them to hold it.

The castle doors opened, and out walked the King. Guards stood at attention, and even the Sons stiffened in alert. He had worn his deep blue overcoat, hidden beneath the sheen and shine of his silver plated armor. His sword hung on a high belt at his side, the Price crest branded into the center of his chestplate. He wore no crown, a man, a soldier, with only titled above that. Titles were no savior in the face of an enemy, only more words that delayed your inevitable downfall by seconds.

You could tell by his stature that he was royal. Knightly, at least, his aura was powerful, confident. Unwavering, just like his loyalty. The king was a man of his word. He'd never leave one behind.

He stopped in front of his two sons, like he was taking in the sight. It was a somber experience, and Soap's heart was heavy with fears and sorrows he did not dare let escape the cavity of his chest.

His heels crunched on the rocks and gravel beneath them as he approached Soap first.

In a sharp move, the King had wrapped both arms around him in a proud embrace. Johnny fought to hide the tremor in his hands as he reached to return the gesture.

"Father-" His voice wavered and he swallowed nervously. The heated feeling in his stomach that twisted his intestines into knots was worse today than usual. Anxiety. Doubt. He hated it.

"Don't worry, son. We'll be back before the stress of the throne turns ya grey." Price whispered, giving him a rightful thump on the back.

"Ah'm not gonnae turn grey, old man. Ye take yer chances with it first." Johnny returned with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. The sun had barely crossed the horizon now.

Price took a few steps back. "Kyle, this is Sergeant Gary Sanderson. He's one o' the few soldiers we're taking with us. He'll be with you when I won't be. I trust you'll get to know 'im well." At his introduction, a soldier around their age stepped forward with a bow of his head.

He had brown hair that darkned at the root, with a crooked smile, and pale green eyes. The most noticeable thing about him was the jagged, forked scar that ran across his face, starting at the center of his cheek, drifting across his nose, dipping into his eyebrow, and settling beneath his eye. It was like some beast had raked a claw across his face, and Sanderson had don't no better to mind.

His eyes were soft, but hardened in a way that Soap only ever found in knights. War, he had decided, was the cause of that ravaged, rugged look. Not completely lost, not yet, but having seen just enough to prove themselves wrong.

Kyle introduced himself with a warm hand and a nervous smile. Price clapped him on the back, before giving Johnny a knowing look.

"Lady Laswell awaits you in the great hall. Try not to be upset with her." The King warned in a steely voice, plunging his heart even further.

What trouble had he gotten himself into now?

"Alright, soldiers, load up." Price commanded, and a few choice kmights began mounting horses, or loading themselves into carriages.

Except for Gaz.

"Don't do anything too reckless without me, brother." The eldest said with a lost laugh in his voice, avoiding eye contact.

Soap challenged this by giving him a bear hug. "How cannae? Yer takin' all the fun with ye!"

Gaz actually laughed this time, pulling away before giving him a serious look. "No, really, don't burn the castle down, okay? We only get one."

"Yesh, yeah." He waved him off. "Go kill some Shadows fer me, aye?"

"Expect nothing less, Soap!" He called as he climbed into the carriage, where the King awaited him.

He heard the horses begin to trot, and Johnny turned away.

He didn't watch them leave.

The mirror was broken. Not that it had been much of use, anyways. It was always thick with grime and dust. No one ever had enough time to clean it. The floorboards still creaked in the same way as when he was a squire, however long ago that seemed.

The bed groaned as Sanderson woke up. The crack in the window eased a breeze, blowing cold into their room. He rubbed a hand over his face in the dim lighting of the knights' quarters. Something shifted off to his left, startling him.

"Good mornin' to ya, Riley, scared the shite outta me-" The young man feigned a hand over his heart after practically jumping out of his skin as the Knight Lieutenant moved around in the shadows, getting ready for the day.

"Morning, Roach." He mumbled, a voice deeper than you'd expect for someone of his stature.

The Lieutenant was tall and built out, covered in scars from war and past fights. He often wondered how he got the majority of them, but had never chosen to ask. He was not a social person, but he still spared enough conversation to speak with Gary. So he counted that as a win.

Riley had light brown hair that reached past his shoulders, but most of the time he had it tied up behind his head, moving as he moved. He had only ever seen it cut short once, right after Sanderson himself had joined the ranks. He had been captured by the enemy during the very start of the war, before he had earned the legendary title of the Ghost. And they had cut his hair, a symbol of power, torn away forcibly by the enemy. He was one of Price's closest men, and something had broken inside of him by the time that he had gotten close enough for rescue.

But for now, it was at it's regular length, tied back behind his head, back behind the mask that concealed the lower half of his face.

If his sharp eyes could glow, Sanderson was very sure they would be doing so in the dark of the morning. It was one of the only noticeable features on his face, set aside the jagged scars that crisscrossed his crooked nose, broken one too many times in a fist fight.

The real terror was the black, painted fabric of a mask that the Knights Lieutenant wore. Covering the bottom of his nose, down to his chin, this was his casual day's wear. It was hand painted, a thick, nontoxic material, the same shade white as a bleached skull left out in the sun for too long.

You can understand his sudden fear, being the first sight he saw as he woke.

"Remember your orders, Sergeant. Wouldn't want you to miss that opportunity." Ghost muttered, standing to move out of his way.

Roach's eyes widened as he launched himself out of bed, grabbing a day shirt, and the chain he wore as armor. Sitting at the end of his bed, he struggled to pull on his shoes in his sleep muddled state. He could tell that the Lieutenant was conflicted between feeling jealousy, or pride. He had made Roach the knight that he was, but was worried at the outcome of this mission. They didn't know how long he would be gone, accompanying the King and the Crown Prince to the battlefield, the front lines. It was Roach's chance to prove himself. They both knew Ghost would've been better in this position, but still, it was his chance.

Ghost knew, of course, that the Sergeant would be great at it. It was a big deal. He was a great fit.

"Sword." The older man grunted, holding out the sheath that Roach had almost walked out without.

"Shite, thanks-" He fastened the sword to his side, pausing in the doorway. "Oh, and Riley-?"

The man stopped what he was doing and looked up. Roach gave him a smile. Soft, forgiving. Warning.

"Thank you, sir."

The sun crossed the horizon, and Riley was alone in the quarters again.

"So... Why's your name Roach?" Gaz asked, leaning closer to the silent knight in the carriage with him.

"Gaz..." Price mumbled, lifting a hand to try and ease his spout of questions.

"It's okay, sir, I don't mind! A lot of us in the Knights' Quarter have nicknames like that. Codenames, you know? In case somethin' goes wrong, we can still write letters without givin' away someone! It was the Lieutenant's idea." The Sergeant said with a shrug. He looked, and sounded, younger than Soap.

"My brother and I have something similar." Gaz said happily, not failing to notice how he had danced around the question, both answering it and not. He looked out the window, drumming his fingers on his leg excitedly. War was not something to be excited about, but he was eager to get out and do something, something good. "So I assume you've trained with Lieutenant Ghost?"

Meeting with Lady Laswell was.... expectedly unexpected. He had pushed away the thick feeling that gathered in his throat at the leave of his father and brother, the silence almost deafening the castle, making it seem colder than it usually was.

The great hall was quiet for once. It was a sight he didn't welcome. His steps echoed on the cold flooring, and he pulled his coat tighter around himself. The fires weren't lit, he noticed with a pang. At one end of the table sat the Lady, pouring herself over papers, scrolls, and maps. Her short hair was pulled back.

She was a progressive woman, motherly in an unmotherly way that he liked. He knew she had favored Gaz, as most did, but they still got along well. He enjoyed her. She wore pants, instead of skirts and dresses.

"Oh, Prince John, nice to have you finally join us." She was an older woman, older than Price, but not by a decade at most. Her face was lined, but not at a faraway look, with graying hair and piercing eyes. She was unmarried, but he saw the way she looked at the castle nurse, and the way their touches lingered.

He didn't judge in any way, was happy for her, silently. He didn't understand the attraction to women when the men were right there, but that sent him under a spiral of thoughts he was unprepared for.

He tipped his head in acknowledgement. "Lady Laswell, g'morn to ye."

She gave him a smile, and stepped away from the table. "This is Lieutenant Riley, but you can call him Ghost. Ghost, I believe you've met Price John....?"

She appeared to be speaking to no one, until he turned around, immediately facing a very tall man's chest, and he jumped back, surprised.

"Creepin' jesus, ye just sneak up like that? That's fockin'-"

"John."

"Sorry, ma'am." He smoothed himself over and took a step back. Soap stuck out a hand with a bit of a hesitant smile, before he faltered at the sight.

The knight was tall, bigger than him in almost every way. He had wideset shoulders, the crest of the castle worn on his over shirt. He wore executioner's gloves, it didn't match with his outfit, but Soap did not dare tell him that. He was... intimidating to say the least. But the most eye catching part about him was not his cold, fixed glare, but the mask he wore. The black fabric really tore everything else away. A distractor. It was painted so very realistically, the lower half of one's jaw, dried and whitened, he couldn't help but admire it.

His eyes were hidden, almost veiled beneath a black paint substance that glossed over his skin. The famed Lieutenant Ghost looked nothing like what he believed him to be.

Ghost eyed him coldly. "Close your mouth, your majesty." He looked up and away from him, clasping his gloved hands behind his back. "You'll catch flies."

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Dinner at the Hooks

Part 4/??; previous parts to be found on Tumblr or Ao3.

CJ and Claudine finally make an appearance and Sammy is still not paid enough for this, if you were wondering.

„Calista Jane Hook!“ the voice of one very pissed off Sammy Smee sounds through the Isle streets and CJ crouches down behind the chimney, pulling Claudine with her. „Don’t even try that, Calista! I saw you!“

Well, until Sammy says where they saw her exactly, CJ is not coming down, thank you very much.

„You were supposed to be at the Jolly Roger over three quarters of an hour ago!“ they shout, and don’t they know time is a social construct? CJ shakes her head at that, turns up her nose a bit.

„I can see you on the roof, Calista, come down this instant. Climb down – don’t jump, you’re at least two stories up.“

That could still have been a guess, couldn’t it?

But: Sammy is looking straight at them, glaring more like, and Claudine hisses into CJ’s ear: „Told you you should have ditched the cloak.“

„Hey!“ CJ protests, „I’m so not ditching the cloak!“

„What were you doing up there anyway?“ Sammy asks, all tired-like, and why, CJ must tell them, when they’re asking so nicely.

She stands up and runs to the edge of the roof before launching herself  off into a sommersault; she falls on her feet and immediately rolls into a tumble. She jumps back on her feet and dusts off her cloak: Wouldn’t do for it to get dirty now, would it?

„What?“ she asks Sammy, who is now staring at her with an absolutely stoney expression, „I’ve been practising!“

„And I told you not to jump,“ they deadpan.

„…You did?“ CJ cocks her head to the side. This is news to her. „They didn’t, did they, Claudine?“ she turns up at her adopted sister for confirmation.

„Yes, they did,“ Claudine says, all disapproving. She is sitting at the edge of the roof now, her skirts hanging down around her feet and flaring a bit in the wind. Not too much, though, they’re too heavy for that.

CJ pouts at both of them and then some more when Claudine pushes herself off the roof and falls down. CJ isn’t surprised by her hypocrisy in the slightest.

„You two are gonna give me a heart attack one day,“ Sammy sighs, „Now, why were you on the roof..?“ They shake their head and change their mind quickly: „Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.“

Well, that’s too bad, because CJ does want to tell. She ignores Claudine bitching over the hand she scrapped in her fall and that if Gil would be there, he’d have catched her, and beams at Sammy instead: „Why! Old Ratcliffe was casting shadows ’round the arcade, so I figured we’d cast his place on fire! We were scouting terrain, to see how to go best at it! It’s stone-ish but I think I’ve got it!“ CJ turns around to Claudine, „Can Ivy get us the explosives? You must ask her!“

„You could ask her yourself,“ answers Claudine, making a face at her and very much looking away. She‘s this close to blushing, really, CJ can totally tell–

„But I won’t!“ exclaims CJ; then she claps her hands and turns back to Sammy, taking pleasure in the way her cloak spins around her, „Oh, Sammy, can we go get Ivy now? Claudine totally has a crush on her, we should invite her to the dinner too!“

„I do not!“ protests Claudine fruitlessly. Everyone who has eyes knows, except maybe for Claudine herself, that’s true… Something should be done about that.

„Absolutely not,“ says Sammy resolutely, „I’m not dealing with three of you arsonists in one room. You’re inviting Ivy only over my dead body.“

„We’ll see,“ CJ waves that away and smiles at Claudine, who just buried her face in her hands.

With that, of course, she sees Ratclife’s house again: Fucking Ratclife’s, keeping Freddie in the Arcade after hours. They deserve what they’ve got coming, really.

She flings one of her daggers into the doors just because she can. (It’s the ugly one, so she resolves to keep that in there as a warning.)

„Hey, Sam,“ she says, „Can we go visit the Arcade now? I wanna go see Freddie.“ At least say hello, when Freddie can’t come. Maybe maim some of her customers, if they’re too annoying.

„We are already late, Calista Jane,“ Sammy states, „We are leaving for the Jolly Roger right this instant.“

„But–“

„Or I’ll tell your sister what you’re planning and how uncooperative you are.“

CJ gasps at that – they surely wouldn’t!

„I <i>will</i>. Now let’s go.“ Sammy makes an attempt to grab her wrist but CJ dances out of their way.

„Are Uma and Harry there yet?“ asks Claudine, as if that was relevant?

„Yes. Everyone is waiting for you two. Now let’s go.“

Sammy grabs for CJ’s wrist again and this time, they get it. CJ pouts at that, but lets her sister’s first mate drag her away a bit. About a street or two, barely; Claudine walks after them, not even complaining much.

Then CJ squirms away and runs back, ignoring Sammy’s indigent cries for her to stop; Claudine just mutters something in plain disinterest and CJ is almost insulted by that.

But, you see. She saw these dumpsters right behind her target, and it would just be a pity to leave them be. Plus, it’s not like the trash is gonna be taken away, nah. This is the dumpster island, remember? Just left there to rot away. CJ’s doing it a service, really.

One quick flick of her wrist and the tiny flame flies through the air, others joining it just moments after.

(She must get new matches, she must remember–)

She doesn‘t wait to watch the flames rise and grow, even though she really wants to, because then Sammy would come, and Claudine, too, and CJ vaguely remembers something about Claudine not being allowed to linger by her flames.

Whatever.

She shakes her head and turns on her heel, marching back to Sammy and past them.

„Well?“ she barks out, „Are we going to the Jolly Roger or not?“

[archoniluthradanar]

On meeting a Vampire - Chapter One

On meeting a Vampire : an Aro Volturi short story

PART ONE

This fiction will be a short story of no more than 2 chapters about an unexpected meeting between a strange young woman and an ancient vampire. Aro del Volturi is lost in some unnamed forest, left behind by his coven during a battle. He manages to reach a small cottage inhabited by a young woman who lives alone there. She's finds the man is not quite normal. On the other hand. Aro finds his savior to be somewhat odd herself.

I was going to make this a one-shot but it got too long for that, yet too short to be considered a long fic.

Chapter One

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Although his assailant was dead, Aro di Volturi's immortal body was filled with pain only because his attacker had been a werewolf. When it came to vampire versus werewolf, this fight ended in success for the vampire, but not without it's sacrifices. Aro was now alone in the forest, wherever this place was. His fellow coven members had left him behind, chased off by one of the few enemies that could defeat vampires. They would come back for him once they had lost the pack, but he needed immediate help.

Caius had insisted the werewolves must be hunted down to extinction. They were powerful, but disorganized. Still, he had nearly been destroyed by one some time ago, and his fear of them made them an enemy that had to be eradicated. The coven had destroyed many of the werewolves, but one had targeted Aro when he was alone. He fought against the hairy beast, who used bared teeth and sharp claws to take down Aro. His cries of pain echoed in the forest, but he didn't give up on his attack, until the beast fell to the ground, its blood flowing into the dirt.

Struggling to remain standing, Aro finally managed to limp his way through the trees and brush. The darkness did not impede him, having vampire vision, but his usual speed was not there for him. He continued this way for nearly an hour. His acute hearing picked up only the distant rumblings of thunder, nearby animal sounds, and the rippling of a creek not far away. Then he heard a heartbeat, human and most likely female by the rapidity of it. Aro headed in the direction of the heartbeat to find a small wooden cottage sitting in a clearing surrounded by trees.

He noticed smoke coming from a stone chimney, so obviously the occupant was there. Why would a woman be living alone in this desolate place. Perhaps her mate was out hunting. Perhaps she was a widow due to some obscure human war. Aro truly didn't care. He needed her aid whoever she was, and perhaps her blood as well if he were recover more quickly.

Aro made it to the door and knocked. He leaned against the door jamb, wanting nothing more than to lie down and mend himself. Cracks had appeared on his face and neck, and they seemed slow to heal. One hand had been torn off at the wrist. He managed to save it with a laving of venom over the breaks. He hid the damaged limb within his black cloak. There were deep bites on his legs that were causing him a great deal of pain. Aro knew they would take days to heal. He knew he would need to rest if that were to happen.

The door opened to reveal a young woman with long red-brown hair that was pulled up in a loose bun. Her blue eyes took in the appearance of the man at her door. She looked him over, seeing torn pants and bloodless wounds on his legs. He was holding onto his arm as if it was inured as well. She started to reach out her hands to help him, but quickly pulled back.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean you any harm, but I am injured. I need help..." Aro nearly fell to his knees, but he knew if he fell, she alone would not have the strength to pick him up. Unsure what language she spoke, Aro didn't know if she even understood him. He spoke many languages, so if she would just say something, he would be able to recognize her native tongue and communicate with her.

Don'ea watched the man before her, obviously having trouble standing. She didn't want to let him in, but she could not let him remain outside. The air smelled of ozone. She had heard the thunder getting closer, and it was likely a storm was approaching,

Giving the man a weak smile, she slipped her arm beneath his, trying to support him as he stumbled inside. She led him to the bed that sat in the far corner of the large room and helped him to sit down. She mimed for him to take off his cloak. Going back to the door, she hung the black cloak on a peg in the wall next to the entrance, which was now barred with a wooden arm that crossed the entire width of the door.

She threw another log into the fireplace, and went back to help the man. His coat had to be removed, Don'ea feeling it was too binding. She knelt down and removed his shoes, which were wet with something sticky and covered in dirt, so she slid them under the bed until she could clean them. She slid out a round metal bowl from under the bed, showing it to Aro. She tried to mime its use, but was sure he understood when he smiled and shook his head. She then stood to find another blanket in a small wardrobe that was next to the bed.

Aro lay back, groaning in pain. He closed his eyes, one hand flung over his forehead. Never had he felt so incapacitated in all his existence, at least not since his transformation. Where was the rest of the coven. Surely Demetri would be tracking him by now, unless... Aro dared not think of the possibility the werewolves had destroyed his people. If that were the case, no help would be arriving and he would be on his own.

Don'ea was finally able to observe the stranger's appearance. He was the most attractive man she had ever seen in this place. She inhaled some pleasant sort of scent exuding from his body. But what had intrigued her more was the colour of his eyes. They were a deep red. In her time here in this forest, she had never seen anyone with red eyes. Brown, green, blue, but never red.

She pointed to the the other corner of the room where a clay oven sat. Nearby was a table with crockery and knives. Eating utensils, cups and plates sat on a shelf that was secured into the wall above the table.

She filled a glass from a clay pitcher with cool water and offered it to Aro, who shook his head. He tried to smile his thanks, but pain forced his expression to change to one of discomfort. Every bite throbbed. His hand still was not secure enough to use. It would take time for the venom to bind the torn parts together.

Aro lay perfectly still as he now gazed at the woman assisting him with such diligence. He had lucked out in finding her here. But with what end.

Don'ea reached down to place her hand on his forehead. He had no fever. In fact, his skin was dry and cold as snow. She lay the blanket over Aro, covering him carefully. Then she returned to the oven where a pot of soup sat atop the fire-fed heat. She slowly stirred it, eager to sit and eat her supper. She had made plenty, so if her guest was hungry, she could feed him. The hot soup might help him warm up.

Aro was watching the woman surreptitiously. For a human, she was quite lovely. But he found it odd that she had not uttered a word since his arrival. And the scent he had breathed in while she was helping him get comfortable was unlike any he had ever smelled. Not unpleasant, just different.

"My name is Aro. I am from Volterra in Italy. I am here with my people, but we were separated and I was...attacked. To whom do I owe my thanks for offering me sanctuary?"

The woman turned at Aro's words, her blue eyes filled with expression, even if she said nothing.

Don'ea had gone to fill a bowl with some of the hot soup, again offering it to Aro. And again, he shook his head. Perhaps he was just not thirsty or hungry due to the pain he was suffering.

Aro lay back, unable to do anything else. He watched while the woman ate her meal, knowing she might end up becoming his meal if the coven did not find him soon. He hated to thank her for her aid by killing her, but there might be no help for it.

Lightning lit up the darkness outside through the few windows of the cottage. The thunder had grown so strong, it sometimes shook the small house as it sent sonic booms into the air.

Don'ea went to unlatch the door. Opening it, she peered out to observe the downpour that had finally arrived. She worried that this man's people would be stuck out in the deluge. What she didn't want was for his attackers to sniff after his scent and end up here.

She closed and latched the door, then went to wash her soup bowl. She kept the flame under the pot low, in case her guest grew hungry later. She might want more herself, but preferred to help her guest for now.

Don'ea went to the bed and pulling up the blanket away from Aro's legs, she wordlessly examined his wounds. She pulled at the torn pieces of cloth which were also damp with something sticky-wet, like his shoes. She carefully touched his legs. The wounds were oddly bloodless, the flesh not appearing torn like a bite, but broken like crockery that had been dropped in a way as to not shatter the piece, but leave it intact with smooth-edged cracks. Obviously bite marks confirmed his story. She still wanted to know why his flesh was so cold.

Laying the blanket back over his legs, she sat next to Aro, her hand resting on his. She watched him for any reactions or unspoken needs he might have. He seemed to be resting, his eyes closed once more. While he was in repose, she studied his thoughts. She smiled in amusement. It was a jumbled mess of centuries of history, his and that of others. This man, if he were a man, needed her help, and to learn from him, she would offer it freely.

Don'ea was about to rise to get another bowl of soup, when she felt a hand grab her wrist in its vise-like grip, pulling her down. She watched as Aro held onto her, his irises having darkened to black, with an expression that might have terrified her.

Aro, in his hunger, drew the silent woman to him. She never uttered a sound, not even in fear. A mute. She must be a mute and unable to speak. Aro bared his razor-sharp teeth and swiftly bit down on her neck. He felt the heated blood flow into his mouth. Instantly, he spat out the fluid. Wiping his hand over his mouth, he drew it back and saw a purple smear.

"What is this?" His stomach suddenly twisted as he retched. "What have you done to me?"

A/N : Aro has never found blood he didn't like. Until now. So who is this strange woman Aro has fallen in with?

[brainfuzzz]

Old Truths Ch. 8 "Freedom Part 3"

Yep, another Crocodile learns that he's Luffy's mother fic because why not? Also, I'm making him the Snake Princess before Hancock because I'm already in Crocomom hell so why not pile on more to it, right? Expect a reunion with Dragon as Crocodile goes on a journey for the truth and eventually finds peace. Another chapter with Dragon's point of view!

            Dark and heavy storm clouds continue to brew overhead as strong winds blow through the city. Dragon stands on the roof of a building, taking in the large harbor only a few streets ahead of him.  

            “There’s a lot more pirate ships then I was expecting.” Ivankov stands at his side. They lift a hand over their brow as they scan the docks. “A lot more Navy ships too.”

            Dragon frowns. Sir had mentioned the Navy was interviewing pirate captains, but why? Dragon points to the far right of the harbor, “There, a World Noble ship and on the far left… another one.”

            Ivankov crosses their arms, frowning as the realization of the situation sets in. Dragon pulls out his transponder snail and calls headquarters.

            “I’m here.” Kuma’s voice responds. With the revolution still growing, Dragon, Kuma, and Ivankov agreed that one of them would always remain at headquarters. Should they face an early end, the revolution must go on.

            “Have your informants discovered any leads to where the slaves are being kept? We’re counting two World Noble ships.” Dragon stands in the shadow of a chimney as a particularly strong gust of wind violently blows his and Ivankov’s cloaks.

            “We have. It appears there are approximately 30 child slaves being prepared to be shipped to Marie Jois.” Kuma explains. Dragon grits his teeth. How can the World Government condone such atrocities? He squeezes his eyes closed when he remembers his father only a few streets back. How could his father support such a government?

            “Dragon, that’s a lot more than we were expecting.” Ivankov mutters, their eyes staring at the ground while silently trying to think of a way to modify the plan to accommodate that many children.

            “That’s not all,” Kuma pulls both their attention back to the transponder snail. “Thanks to our recent attacks on World Noble ships, they have decided to split the children up. Half will be transported on one of the World Noble ships and the other half will be transported by a Navy ship. They couldn’t specify which ones, I’m afraid.”

            Dragon squeezes the transponder snail in his hand with anger. It’s bad enough that the Navy turns a blind eye on these matters, but it’s another thing entirely to aid in it. Thunder rolls as dark clouds begin to slowly swirl in the sky. The salty sea air is strong as a chill runs up both Ivankov and Dragon’s spines. The people below rush to get inside as they struggle to acclimate from the grueling heat to the sudden chilly air.

            “Good work. Keep us posted if anything changes.” Dragon slips the transponder snail back into his cloak. He lifts a hand to his chin as he considers their next move.

            “And you weren’t able to get any information out of the Celestial Dragon? Nothing at all?” Ivankov asks while stepping closer to the chimney when a group of marines runs through the streets below. Dragon sighs and shakes his head. The plan was to beat the answer out of the Celestial before they could call for backup. He was sure it would only take a couple hits before the Celestial would break. Dragon pinches the bridge of his nose while remembering Sir standing on the side of the street, as if he had manifested out of thin air.

            “No, I got… distracted.” He lowers his hand so he can cross his arms.

Ivankov arches a perfectly lined eyebrow. “Could it be because of that person I saw you with? The one you left to deal with your father?”

“Ivankov,” Dragon frowns deeper. “Take half our men and attack the World Noble ship on the right. I’ll take the rest and attack the one on the left. We’ll figure out our next move after we have half the children freed.”

Ivankov turns their head towards the harbor, taking the hint to drop it. They lean against the chimney and say, “Once we attack there’s no going back. There’s at least twenty Navy vessels alone. We won’t have time to check them all, and at that point we’ll have fifteen kids to keep safe. It’ll only make it that much harder.”

Dragon stares at the Navy ships, feeling each second tick by. Finally, he shakes his head and says, “We have no choice. By now, the Celestial will be heading back to their ship and with the Navy already deployed in the city, it’s only a matter of time before they discover our agents. We need to move fast if we plan on saving anyone.”

Ivankov nods, understanding. Not wanting to waste any more time, they both start towards their targets. Dragon pulls his transponder snail out and makes the announcement, mobilizing all revolutionary agents hidden within the city to join Dragon and Ivankov. Dragon fills them in on the new plan while they jump from rooftop to rooftop. The second they attack the World Noble ship; an admiral will be deployed. He sets his jaw. If his father is here, then it’s safe to assume that the admiral is Sengoku. The last thing he wants right now is a full on fight with that man, but it looks like he doesn’t have much choice. When the only thing between him and the harbor is a single row of buildings, he senses his father. He comes to a sudden stop, causing his men to knock into each other as they do the same. His old man leaps from the alley below, landing on the building across from him.

Dragon’s heart drops to his stomach. He knew Sir might not win against his old man—he doubted there was anyone alive who could—but he shouldn’t have been beaten this easily. Garp’s eyes are dark, his head pointed down in shame. Dragon clenches his jaw, his heart pounding against his chest. 

 “What happened?” he shouts. His father doesn’t move. The only sound between them is his cloak and his father’s coat blowing in the wind.

“I’m sorry,” his father says finally. Dragon’s blood freezes when their eyes meet. “The Celestial Dragon… he took your friend.”

Lightning strikes in the background. Dragon clenches his hands into tight fists as his body trembles with rage, “And you let it happen?”

“You know I had to!” Garp’s large hands tighten into fists. He drops his eyes from Dragon’s.

Rain begins to fall as Dragon says, “No, you didn’t… you were afraid. Just like everyone else! You always speak of justice, but how can you? When you willingly allow people to be plucked from the streets to be slaves to nobles who can’t even stand to breathe the same air as you!”

His father grits his teeth, unable to meet Dragon’s eyes. Dragon closes his eyes, letting the rain wash over him as his rage spreads through his limbs and chest. When he opens his eyes, he turns back to his men.

“Let’s move!” He and his men run past his father, who is unable to move, and charges for the World Noble ship.

His heart pounds in his ears as the ship grows closer. Armament haki coats his arms as he charges through a group of marines that are guarding the ship. If they have Sir, then they must be keeping him in the same place as the children. If he finds the children, then he’ll find Sir. Sir’s face flashes behind his eyes, “I wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for you.”   

“Damn it!” he curses. He forces the thought away while jumping up to the deck of the ship. Marines fire their guns, but he dodges each bullet. He’s merciless in his attacks. Normally he would try to keep casualties to a minimum, but now he doesn’t have time for such niceties. His men spread out, making quick work of the marines but they already know backup is on the way. Across the harbor, he can hear Ivankov’s group attacking as sirens blare throughout the city. Dragon kicks a marine over the railing of the ship and darts down a set of stairs.

He kicks down doors and even goes so far as the burst through walls to try and find the children and Sir. So far, nothing. When he’s checked every compartment on the ship, his transponder snail goes off.

“Dragon! We got them! Fifteen rugrats present and accounted for.” Ivankov says.

“Was there anyone else with them? An adult?” Dragon starts back towards the stairs.

“An adult? No, only children. Why?”

Dragon starts up the stairs.

“They got someone else. They must be keeping him with…” he’s cut short. A beam of light blasts just inches from his nose. He freezes, letting the rain pour over him. His men lie on the deck, beaten and unconscious. Dragon slowly turns his gaze on a man wearing a yellow suit standing at the center of the deck with a finger pointed in his direction.

“Oh, what do we have here?” the man says in a calm low tone. “The Revolutionary Dragon I presume? Say, is it true that you’re Vice Admiral Garp’s son? That’s quite the scandal.”

“Does it really matter?” Dragon steps up to the deck and faces the man.

“No, I suppose not.” The man shifts his weight and gives a nonchalant shrug. “Though I have to admit, I was expecting more of a fight from your lackies here. My mistake.”

Dragon narrows his eyes. This one man took down all his men. He’s not an admiral but judging by the beam of light and the lack of any obvious weapons on him, it’s safe to say he’s a devil fruit user. The wind picks up around them as it rains even harder. The sound of an explosion comes from the far end of the harbor. Dragon doesn’t take his eyes off of the marine in front of him. he watches the man slowly lift his hand and point a finger in his direction. Dragon remembers the beam of light that had stopped him when he came up the stairs. He frowns deeper and dodges when a similar beam of light slices through the ship floor.

Dragon reaches for a broken piece of wood lying next to one of his fallen comrades and chunks it at the man. The man doesn’t even try to dodge the attack as it goes right through him. Dragon smiles.

“Logia type then,” he turns, now heading straight for him. He coats his arms and legs with armament haki and rears his hand back, punching the man in the gut so hard that he flies back into a stack of crates. He stands up straight and says, “That’s fine.”

The man stumbles out of the wreckage with a cough. A thin line of blood spilling from the edge of his lips.

“I guess that settles it. Anyone who hits that hard must be Vice Admiral Garp’s son.” The man wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand with an easy smile.

They both lunge for each other, neither able to get the upper hand. As they fight, Dragon hops to different Navy ships, silently hoping he could narrow down which one has the missing children and Sir. Every now and then he hears what sounds like a distant battle along with Ivankov’s voice yelling, “Death wink!” He swings a powerful kick, sending the other man crashing into a ships mast. The mast groans as it cracks, causing it to fall into the ocean.

“Damn it Kizaru!” Sengoku’s voice carries from the direction of Ivankov’s group. Dragon grits his teeth. Why couldn’t that bastard of attacked Dragon instead? The man, Kizaru, emerges from the rising dust and wood particles looking as unbothered as ever. He turns towards Sengoku who yells, “Those are our ships! Don’t let them get destroyed!”

“Oh, right!” Kizaru gives a salute, earning a scowl from the Admiral. Dragon lets out a tired breath and wipes the rain from his eyes. This is taking too damn long. Dragon punches his fists down to the deck of the ship they’re on and tears the boards apart, revealing the ships insides. Kizaru arches a brow.

“Oh, come now, you heard what the Admiral said,” he lifts his foot, shooting one of his beams. This one grazes the edge of Dragon’s shoulder, sending sparks of pain down his arm and chest. “No destroying the Navy ships now.”

He knows he can’t save the kids with a marine this powerful on his tail, but if Sir is with them, then he might be able to lead them away to freedom. If he could only give them an opening. He moves quickly, tearing holes into the deck, trying to see if Sir and the children are being kept on this ship. When he’s made as many as he can, he jumps to the next one. Kizaru continues his attack, making him fight for every inch he takes. He’ll admit, Kizaru is a force to be reckoned with, but as of right now, he’s still sloppy. Thanks to his devil fruit, he probably rose through the ranks quickly, but it’s clear he’s never faced anyone with true caliber.

The rain continues to pour, turning the once dry wooden ship decks into a slippery mess. Kizaru swings his leg, hitting Dragon’s arms that were already braced for the attack. Dragon clenches his teeth when his feet slowly slide back on the slick floor. Kizaru steps back, struggling to find enough traction to keep from slipping himself. They stare at each other, both panting, neither willing to back down. Lightning strikes in the distance along with another explosion in Ivankov’s direction. He can’t afford to worry about them now. not with Kizaru here. Not with Sir and the other children still locked away on a Navy ship.

A cracking noise erupts beneath them. they both glance down but are unable to react in time before the floor gives out and they both fall to the compartment below. Dragon lands on his feet but lets himself drop into a crouched position. His heart his still pounding against his chest, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. Kizaru staggers when he’s able to stand upright. He lifts his hand over his brow to look up at the split open deck. Dragon must have made one to many holes in this ship that the floor couldn’t take it anymore. Water pours through the opening, flooding the room they’re now in. Kizaru tries to jump back through the opening but is stopped when Dragon swings his leg. He kicks him back down to where he had been standing.

“We’ll drown if we stay here much longer.” Kizaru tilts his head, still wearing the same annoying calm expression. Dragon says nothing. The water is already up to their knees. Kizaru takes a deep breath, letting his shoulders rise and fall with the exhale. “You know, you’re becoming a real pain.”

“Feelings mutual.” Dragon gives a tick of his head. Kizaru rears his arm back as if to punch Dragon as a ball of light builds around his fist.

“But I think I’m tired of playing.” Kizaru narrows his eyes as Dragon braces himself, preparing to dodge the attack when the sound of pounding against wood stops them. Kizaru straightens, his hand still building up light. Dragon arches a brow, realizing the noise is coming from behind Kizaru. Before either of them has a chance to react, a wooden door flies off its hinges, going straight through Kizaru’s body of light and smashing into Dragon.

If he hadn’t already been mostly coated in armament haki, it probably would have knocked him down. He chunks the door to the side and freezes when he sees Sir standing in a doorway. His drenched hair sticks to this sides of his face as he pants, taking in the situation. His hands are free with the remnants of one metal band of a chain still clasped around his left hand. The explosive collar the Celestial Dragon’s use is still fastened around his neck. Their eyes meet. A weight that he hadn’t even realized he had, lifts from his shoulders. Sir blinks, the sight of Dragon had been a surprise, before he snaps out of it and turns, revealing a room filled with fifteen frightened children.

“Let’s move!” Sir yells, snaping the kids out of their daze. A giant girl steps out first, holding her hands close to her chest as she shakes with fear. Sir meets her eyes and says a little gentler, “Help me lift them through that opening.”

The giant girl nods and immediately starts grabbing kids and starts lifting them to the top deck. Kizaru and Dragon are so shocked that they both find themselves stuck in their own daze. Sir notices the light building on Kizaru’s hand. He frowns while quickly reaching down, scooping the last three children in his arms, before jumping through the hole after the giant girl has climbed through.

When he’s on the top deck, he turns back to stare down at Dragon and says, “You better not let him kick your ass.”

When he’s gone, Dragon feels a little lighter while he and Kizaru continue to stand in the thigh high water, staring at the gaping hole. The only sound is of the water still rushing into the room and the distant sound of children’s feet running across the deck. Dragon glances at Kizaru, the light building on his fist now gone. He realizes then that Kizaru was unaware of the children being held captive on one of their own ships. Dragon doesn’t wait to see if the man has any humanity left and takes this opportunity to attack.

With the kids and Sir safe, he doesn’t have to hold back anymore. His attacks are relentless. He uses a much greater speed, making the marine struggle to keep up. He hits Kizaru in the gut, sending him flying through the side of the ship and straight into the one next to it. He climbs up to the deck and leaps over to the neighbor vessel. Swinging his leg, he shatters the deck, and drops down to deal another blow. Kizaru’s body slumps against the ship wall, motionless. Dragon grabs his collar, forcing him up, only to realize the man has lost consciousness. With a relieved sigh, he drops him back to the floor and turns to return to the upper deck

The rain is starting to let up as he peers out at the harbor. Many of the ships have been damaged from his and Kizaru’s fight making the marines scurry through the piers trying desperately to salvage what they can. He can make out Sir running behind a group of children as they maneuver around the distracted marines. He doesn’t look away until they are out of sight, safely hidden within the city walls. He’ll find them later, for now, all that matters is that they are away from the ships. Turning towards the other side of the harbor he realizes that he no longer hears the sounds of distant fighting. A large cloud of smoke rises from the other World Noble ship. Dragon starts in that direction, his heartrate unable to slowdown. Not until he knows everyone is safe.

He finds the World Noble ship crawling with marines. He’s able to avoid them by jumping from the ship masts. Most fail to even notice him and those who do are to worn out from their previous battle to react in time before he’s already out of shooting distance. He scans the ships and piers for any sign of his revolutionaries but finds nothing. He decides that this is a good thing. If they aren’t here, then they must have gotten away. Or maybe they’ve all been arrested and are already hidden away in a Navy ship. he shakes the thought out of his head. He uses the wind to boost his jump back to the city rooftops. When lands on a roof, his transponder snail goes off.

“Dragon?” Ivankov’s voice sends a wave of relief through his tense body.

“I’m here.” He says, feeling his body finally relax, at least a little. “Where are you? The other children have been freed and are currently hidden in the city.”

“We’re hiding out in an old shut down restaurant. We’re fine, beat up, but fine.” They say, their voice heavy with exhaustion. “But Dragon, somethings not right.”

Dragon knows the one they’re talking about and heads in their direction. “What do you mean?”

“It’s Sengoku. He was fighting us and, well, winning before he got a call. Then he just… left!” Ivonkov explains. “It doesn’t sit right with me that he would just let us go. Not Sengoku.”

“You’re right.” Dragon frowns as he tries to think of a reason Sengoku would willingly let someone get away. It would have to be an order from someone higher up then him. Dragon’s feet slowly come to a stop. The Celestial Dragon. Thunder rolls overhead. Dragon lifts the transponder snail back up, “What direction did he go?”

“It looked like he was moving in your direction. I assumed that meant he was going after you until he darted into the city.”  

Dragon’s feet start moving on their own. The wind picks up around him. He stares in the direction that Sir and the other children had run in. It doesn’t make sense. To the Celestial Dragon, Sir should just be another slave. Someone easily replaceable. The Celestial Dragon should be more concerned about getting out of here then reclaiming him. Dragon breaks out into a sprint as a new thought forms. Unless this isn’t about reclaiming a slave. This is about getting revenge. He picks up speed, frantically jumping between the rooftops panic spreading through his chest. The Celestial wants retribution for being disrespected in such a public way. Dragon openly defied him with every intention to do harm, so he won’t want to hurt him directly. He’ll make the Navy do that for him later when he’s safely back at Marie Jois. But he’ll do it another way. By hurting the only other person he saw with Dragon. The person that pushed him out of the line of fire. The person he’s already captured once.

Sir.

To be continued…

(Yall... I really wasn't planning on this Freedom arc thing to be this long! But it is... so I hope you guys are enjoying it! I had a harder time writing this chapter, so I decided to give Dragon's point of view again. Also, I decided that I wanted Kizaru to get his ass kicked because I just rewatched the Sabaody arc and... yeah. I imagine at this point he's probably about as strong as Smoker was while in Loguetown. Strong but nowhere near as strong as a warlord or anything like that. I figure losing here might be some motivation to get stronger and stuff and why he chose to be the one to attack Luffy when he punched a Celestial Dragon. I dunno, again, I just wanted him to get his ass kicked.)

Read full story HERE on AO3!!!

[minniepetals]

love poem

— summary: for years you’ve suffered for the longest time and for years they’ve hurt without understanding the true meaning behind it all. soulmates connected through the hearts, soulmates connected through the slightest touches, and when they finally meet their last soulmate, the seven gods vowed to themselves that they will love and protect you for the rest of their immortal lives

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: fluff, angst, soulmates!au, poly!au, gods!au, god of knowledge!namjoon, god of stars!seokjin, god of music!yoongi, god of sun!hoseok, god of spring!jimin, god of ocean!taehyung, god of hearth!jungkook

— word count: 29.0K

— warnings: mentions of death, mentions of war, minor character deaths

— prompt: "It won't be easy you know...trying to love me"

— a/n: i hope you guys haven’t forgotten the dear; sweet bubbies project. sorry i’ve been so slow on these requests but here is the second installment! for you bubs @hope122598​

Soft crispy crunches follow your footsteps as you walk among the snowy path, the wind seeming more restless than ever this morning. Little bits of snowflakes descend from the sky, falling and falling in an endless cycle for the snowy mountains will never come to understand what Spring looks like.

For days upon days and years upon years, you have always prayed to see what it will be like to live with warmth, in a home of hearth, in a shelter that can provide comfort and heat to your body and mind. But you know that as you walk up the path of the mountain, stairway long ruined since over many years ago, with the hood of your cloak constantly hoping to leave your head and the wind howling all around, wishing alone will only get you so far.

The morning sun brings no heat for you, icy particles kissing your cheeks from time to time and leaving you bright red from how cold it is.

But you're used to this.

It's okay. 

Fog escapes your lips as you huff to catch your breath once you make it up, basket of firewood covered with a blanket safely secured in one hand, and you are met with a wooden archway that is so close to toppling over. But it remains firm as ever, as if its fragile looks is only just a façade and that it should look this way.

You walk under it, paying no mind with no fear of it collapsing, and follow the path that flows into your village. White blankets cover the wooden roofs of the abandoned homes and you hear something falling off and hitting the ground with a thud.

Another wooden platform destroyed.

Everything is silent saved for the song of the wind and the crunches of the snow under your footsteps. But you hear the distant sound of the children's voices echoing in your memories. They laugh and shout at one another, giggling about as they jump into piles of snow or slide down a hill on a wooden sled that their fathers have made them. You hear the distant chiding of their mothers who is angry they aren't bundled up for warmth, missing a hat, missing a glove or scarf. You hear the aunties and uncles speaking to one another in cheery voices as you pass along each house, empty and left alone.

They ask each other upon how their days are, whether they have wood to spare, whether their homes are warm enough for their families, whether they have any heated water to share. The young adults complain about the howling wind, grunting and grumbling as they open their doors only to quickly shut it as they tighten the strings around their hood to keep it firm upon their heads. They huff as they stuff their hands into their pockets, frowning and pouting with baskets hanging upon their arms because they had been asked to gather woods from down the mountain.

You don't see the elderlies in your memories but you know they're here, in their homes, tucked in safe and warm and telling old tales of stories upon stories whether real or folktales. The little ones will gather at their feet near the fireplace, excited and anxious about what stories they will hear today.

You see the smoke from chimneys, you see the homes in good shape, and as you stand in the middle of the village's center where festivals, celebrations, and gatherings are often met at, you turn around to take a good look at the village that used to be so lively and filled of energy.

Now gone.

Replaced with broken houses, torn roofs, shattered windows, doors left ajar and broken. The shadows of the villagers, the ghost of the children who runs around in front of you, shouting at one another, the adults laughing and conversing, the teens rebelling and pranking, and the elderlies telling stories where the big bonfire should be...dissolves away from your memories.

Left only with the distant sounds of their laughter. Echoing and echoing in your ears.

As if it is still there, their precious lives, only for you to be reminded all over again that no, you are alone. No one else survived the horrid attack that came unexpected and terrifying.

The memories are still so clear in your head, the shouting, the screams and cries for mercy, the parents begging for the lives of their children to be spared, the howling dogs that would bark nonstop, and the blood that spilled so much that fateful day. Your mother kept you safe in your own home, ran out there pretending she has no daughter while you remained under the basement, muffling your cries as you watched from the window of the slaughtering of your tribe.

You heard loud footsteps then, the crashing and trashing of things, and had shattered a window in order to pick up its shard to stab yourself near your stomach, at a place you know will not bleed out too much and will not kill you.

You laid on the floor, hiding the shard away when the man kicked the door out of its hinges with a wild dog running in. He found you there, laid as if someone had already came to stab you to your death, with you only in your harsh breathing to pretend as if you have indeed just died. But the dog came over to you, sniffing, and you knew that he knew that you were still alive. That you were only pretending.

The quickening of your rapid heartbeat tells him so and it only grows worse so he barks at the owner and you prayed so hard that the man could not understand him.

And he didn't, so he left you, believing someone had already taken care of you and demanded for the dog to follow him out. You held your breath even as they both left the scene.

And even then you remained where you were, knowing there was no other place to run to and just letting fate decide what to do with you. If someone else barges in and finds that you have only faked your death then you would accept his sword at your neck, your heart, wherever he desires.

So here you stand in the middle of a village, a tribe that was once so alive and filled of beautiful people and the warmth of a lovely fire.

Now all locked in the memories of the wind. Gone for you to never see again.

.

.

.

The God of Spring stands a few feet away from the wisteria that lays in the center of the celestial palace, watching as its colors of lilac, blush, and the skies, are only growing a bit weaker as the years pass by and by. It hasn't been in its full bloom and glow since the moment Jimin had grown it hundreds of years ago. Throughout the many years upon finding his fated ones, he's seen the tree grow taller and bigger, so very close to reaching its maximum goal if only he could find one more thing it needs.

It's gotten so magnificent one would think this is its full bloom but the God of Spring knows that there is something missing.

Many leaves have fallen, scattering about like little petals all around the tree but the wisteria remains tall and firm. Yet time is running out and he knows that it will only last a few more years before the bloom will disperse and he himself will weaken.

"Jimin." The Spring God turns at the gentle call of his name and finds the God of Ocean by his side. He watches the tree with awe and wonder, a sight he has gotten used to throughout the years of his immortality. Although Taehyung finds the tree that represent their love so very beautiful, he also understands that something is not quite right. Not yet at least. "What is on your mind, my love?"

He can easily read the God's mind without needing to voice out the question but he feels the need to listen to his soulmate's sweet voice that always calms his waters down.

Jimin shifts slightly, brows creased as he catches a small petal falling from the vines and fluttering down to the marble floor, meeting its fate with the other petals that have already fallen. A breeze passes by from the opening circle that gives sunlight and rain for the tree to grow and he breathes in the fresh air, closing his eyes for a moment. "We must hurry, Taehyung," he tells his lover.

When Jimin takes his hand into his hold, Taehyung understands exactly what his soulmate is feeling at the touch. Jimin has allowed him to read his mind with the touch alone and he knows, he knows that Jimin is beginning to feel restless. The wisteria is only now beginning to wither in a slow passing of time but it will fall to its roots if nothing is done about it.

Taehyung understands that Jimin is afraid, worried, because he knows that there is still a missing piece of their puzzle that has yet to be discovered; their missing soulmate. A soulmate whom they have no idea of, a soulmate they know they must not have met yet because otherwise the wisteria wouldn't look so weak in Jimin's eyes. They must not be an immortal, a god or a goddess, they must not live up here where they are in the realm of the Gods.

But they have searched and searched and searched for years yet no village, town, nor kingdom holds the answer they are seeking for.

"Why must they be so hidden?" The Spring God questions with a deep sigh that makes him so tired. "It was so easy finding you all."

"Fate is not always the easiest," his soulmate reminds him and he nods, sighing again as he turns from the wisteria. "Seokjin has not found a solution yet," Taehyung answers his question before it is spoken aloud while they walk away from the celestial tree. "Jungkook has been feeling very cold recently."

"It must relate to Jungkook." The God of Hearth should not be shivering and feeling the cold get to him in such strong waves. He is meant to be a fireplace, warming up all that is around him, giving fire to the mortals down below.

"But we have searched the land of the mortals," Taehyung says, knowing how long both Seokjin and Namjoon, the Stars and Knowledge Gods, have worked to try and piece everything together.

"Perhaps we are overlooking something."

"And what do you suppose that is?"

Jimin doesn't know. All he understands is that they must find their last soulmate and they must find them soon. So he continues walking on past the door that leads out the center of the palace, brows still creased. "We must return to Earth again, Taehyung. They have to be there."

"How are you sure?"

He shakes his head, not truly understand the logic behind his thoughts. "I just have this feeling." Jimin stops walking and turns to look at the Ocean God with a conflicted gaze resting in his eyes. He takes his lover's hands and press them to his heart to let him feel his heartbeat. "Will you trust me, my love?"

Taehyung smiles. "With all that I have."

.

.

.

It is freezing when you walk into a home that had once been so lovely. Everything is dark now, windows no long a thing because they had all been shattered and thrown out when the raid happened several years ago. You have no money for yourself, knowing how wrong it'd feel for you if you took your mother's money or any of the villagers.

Sure they're gone but for you they are still living inside your heart, their souls roaming around in the village, watching over you, spending their wonderful lives all around the tribe.

You miss them all, you miss everything that had once belonged to the tribe, a small little village where no one should have been able to find. Yet fate is cruel and left you alone to live in a village that is ghosted and no longer in blossom. Sometimes you wonder how you are still alive, and why. Why you? Why not your mother? Or another adult? Or another teen? Maybe a child.

No.

A child would have not been able to survive and neither an elderly.

You heave out a deep sigh that fogs up, relieved for at least the walls of your house keeping the howling wind from freezing you further. You stare down at your fingers and take off the wet gloves.

You have to sew up a new one again. After all, wet clothes in the snowy mountains can never dry warm again, not with the situation you are living in.

You wonder whether given the ability to hunt would have made things easier for you. You'd be able to get your own food, wouldn't you? Instead of living off on herbs and vegetables that are so very hard to grow and find in the endless winter you have been placed in? You don't remember the last time you've had a proper meal, you don't remember the last time you've ever bathed in warm water, or was wrapped up in soft fury blankets, or seen the fire from a lamp.

There are no animals that roams around your village, not even the falcons or eagles fly up here. You are alone. Truly, truly alone.

A tribe that is kept hidden from the other humans, isolated, kept for no one to know it exists because that is how you all live. Everything was going well, a tribe built upon your ancestors for years upon years, only to be washed down by a raid no one was prepared for. Hence you cannot leave this place to try and find your own happiness, to try and find your own Spring. You are the only one left to keep its memories and traditions alive.

Though it is hard, it has been years. You aren't sure how many years you have left. You haven't spoken to anyone in years, haven't felt the touch of anyone since the last time being from the cruel wild dog.

You want to hold someone's hand, wrap your arms around them, have their arms wrapped around you. You want to be loved and you want to love. You want warmth from another man, you want to be touched, just...touched. Whether a small sensation from the tip of a finger or have it held around you. You miss having the advantage to just wake up and greet your mother, jumping her from the back and having her scold you for surprising her every time even though you know more than anyone that she doesn't truly mind it.

You miss her so much. You miss her smile, her gentle fingers brushing your hair away, her kind gaze as she'd look upon you, the crease in her brows as she'd worry for your health when you'd catch even the slightest cold. Your mother was only growing older by the day. You can still remember her falling ill, a turn of events on you to take care of her instead.

So you did.

You bathed her, brushed her soft hair, woke up early to cook her breakfast in the morning before she woke up, sewing both yours and her coats up, went out to collect firewood and herbs, made remedies to keep her health steady, did everything that you could to be a good obedient daughter.

She always worried you wouldn't have time to yourself, urging you to go to festivals or leave the house in general, telling you to go spend some time with your friends, maybe even find someone that has interest in you because she apparently knew there were a few boys in line waiting. You'd always laugh it off and shake your head, not caring about it because you were still so young. But your mother would insist, telling you she'd want you to be with someone that will take care of you well as you were taking care of her.

But you told her that all you needed was her and no one else.

She always frowned at your stubbornness but you weren't going to care for someone who just wanted you because of your face. You want someone to love you for you, past your flaws, to understand everything about you but still loving every part of it.

Mother called you a romantic, you told her that was how father was too and she'd laugh, saying "like mother like daughter."

Indeed.

Because when the raid came in, you asked her to go hide in the basement but she told you otherwise, screaming at your stubborn self, telling you that this is her dying wish. She doesn't care whether you will wed or not, whether you can be a good wife or not, doesn't care about anything except for your safety and protection. You told her you just wanted to spend her last moments with you.

So she held you in her arms, tears endlessly falling, kissing you on the head and whispered "I am here. Always."

And then, she pushed you into the basement and locked the doors.

After hours passed since you last heard the wild dogs fading away, you finally stood up on your feet to bravely leave your basement doors, clutching onto your abdomen with hissing pain.

You found your mother's dead body lying at the entrance, door left ajar, and sobbed and sobbed endlessly because she was no longer breathing and just laid lifeless. You took her into your arms, tears rolling, begging for someone to just make it all better even though you knew more than anyone that that will never happen. You rocked her in your arms for the longest times, forgetting about your own health with blood that still slowly oozes from your body.

Her precious bracelet that your father made for her lied on the floor beside her body, snapped into one single string with beads spread out. You went on to collect it and put it in your pocket, carrying your mother up away from the entrance door and laid her on the couch.

You left her to grab the herbs and remedies to treat your wound and took your cloak half an hour later, leaving the door of your house, and is met by the sight of blood and dead bodies laid on the floor of your village. You ran around, calling, shouting, for anyone to hear you. You barged into homes, rooms, basements, one after the other, calling uselessly for anyone. You walked a few miles away, calling and calling, screaming from the top of your lunges, wondering whether anyone had been dragged away and left there alone.

But there was no one.

No lives were spared.

The children, the poor children, laid alone and in the arms of their loving parents who tried to protect them. Couples held onto each other's hands in their last moments, the grandparents laid by the fireside that no longer runs with fire.

No one was spared. All, everyone, laid on the floor of your village. All of them left dead.

The traumatizing experience spares you no mercy because in the end, it is you that has to carry the bodies of your tribe, digging holes after holes in order to bury every single one of them. You had no wink of sleep, fingers cold and numb yet still forced to work hard and carry their heavy bodies. Your mother was the last of them all, body left spent after all that work, crying and crying endlessly because you could do nothing to protect them, not even one of them, and now they all lie dead under the ground.

All except you who was only seventeen years of age.

.

.

.

"Jungkook?" The God of Music is quick to hold the youngest God whose legs can't keep him steady on his foot. He shivers in Yoongi's arms, shaking, and tears are escaping his eyes before he can try to stop it.

"H-hyung.." Jungkook shudders, breath leaving fogs although the room itself is nowhere near cold. Yoongi can understand him without needing to hear words, a touch alone letting him read his thoughts in an instant. Jungkook tells him what today is, the same day that repeats every year and makes him extra cold though he has no reason why. His heart aches, fingers going numb, and head begins to pound.

The God of Hearth should never feel this way, he has always been powerful just as his soulmates, but this day, this particular day always comes around every year and as he comes close, he feels the shivers until the morning sun appears again and January 24 is here, making him the weakest at this day.

He believes that it relates to their last soulmate, a soulmate hidden from the world and no where to be found with no information except that they are still alive. Alive yet hurt.

"It hurts," Jungkook cries. It is not his pain that he is feeling, it is not his tears that are crying. These do not belong to the God of Hearth but to someone else. "It hurts so much, hyung." Yoongi holds him safe and steady in his arms but this time Jungkook cries his real tears as he leans into the touch of his soulmate, crying because he hurts knowing their last soulmate cannot feel this comfort and warmth for themselves. He begins to beat himself up, angry and frustrated that he can understand these feelings but cannot do anything to make his soulmate feel better.

"We'll find them," the God of Music promises as he presses a kiss to the youngest's head. "We'll find them."

He lets Jungkook know that Jimin believes they must be on Earth and Jungkook begins to think so too. He lets him know that Jimin and Taehyung are preparing to leave when Hoseok raises the morning sun in the mortal realm, that Seokjin and Namjoon will follow. And Jungkook lets him know that he wishes to go to.

He has to know, he has to finally find them, wherever they are.

.

.

.

When the morning sun awakes you, you sit up heavily from the cold, cold bed, shivering and letting out a deep sigh. Yesterday may be over but the memories still lies so vividly in your mind. You drag yourself out of bed, brushing your teeth, washing your face that makes you shiver again because everything is so cold. The kitchen greets you with an empty refrigerator that makes your brows furrow because your stomach growls and you are so hungry.

You sigh again as you head back into your bedroom to grab your cloak and wrap it around yourself, taking a straw basket that you weaved years ago with the help of a loving mother's hand, and put the hood on your head as you step out of your home.

The little children greets you in your memories, the ghost of the adults waving you good morning as you walk down through the memories of their lovely smiles, a few asking you to fetch them certain herbs and chicken eggs as well. You nod at their souls, smiling faintly and saying "Of course, I will be back with them."

A small little boy tugs at the sleeve of your dress and you stop to look down at the ghost of little Mingyu. He wishes to travel down with you but you shake your head, telling him you will be back soon to play with him. He pouts but upon your words, Mingyu doesn't go against you because he loves you like his own older sister.

When you pick up your feet again after bidding him goodbye to continue walking, your face falls as you walk past the wooden archway, chest tightening for a moment and nose thickening because you miss them all. You miss little Mingyu.

But you blink away the tears before it can freeze upon the cold wind, greeting the bright sun that shines above with a tight smile and walk down the little broken stairway made of leveled down snow that leads to the foot of the mountain.

"Maybe if I pray unto the God of Sun, he'll warm the mountain up," you sigh, "or the God of Hearth."

You look down at the empty basket that hasn't been filled for over an hour while your feet numbs from walking so long. No firewood, herbs, or food. You're starving and tired and it hasn't it gotten to noon yet. The slow passing of time makes you sigh at the growling of your stomach. You just want to eat and fall into a warm bed made of soft comfortable mattress and never have to know what the cold means.

But this is your life and although years passed, you still wonder how you're living on. Will you ever find another human to talk with for the rest of your life? The town almost a mile away has a few friendly smiles but it isn't the same as your village. After all, everyone knows everyone there, and you lived by taking care of one another.

You're just so, so tired.

.

.

.

"This..."

They stare at the wooden archway that leads into a village of homes that look as if no one has been here in ages. An abandoned ghost village. Yet they follow Hoseok in as he walks forward, eyes grazing over the broken windows and roofs, a few doors left open and off its hinges, and nothing but the sound of the howling wind and their footsteps are heard.

It's strange but no matter how empty this village is, they can still feel how beautiful life had once been to these mortals. It is a village that has been abandoned for years, no signs of life whatsoever.

"Why are we here, Hoseok?" Namjoon asks as he steps over some broken wood, his brows furrowing at the eerie echoing of the dead souls who had once lived here. It is never easy passing by a place that lets them know something horrible had occurred. They can easily hold the ground and watch the memories of what had happened with their powers but it feels too much to invade such intimate memories.

"I don't know," the God of Sun admits as he continues walking carefully with slow steps, his gaze soft and sad as he looks over everything. "The Sun told me there is still life here and we've visited many places already but we've never come here."

"It's abandoned."

"But you can still feel the life," he tells Taehyung. He knows they believe that perhaps he had only sensed life because a life did used to be here but Hoseok thinks otherwise. "There is a living soul here," he speaks, looking up at the sun for a moment, "she's seen it."

There is something so strange about this village, this tribe. Hoseok cannot understand it and he knows that he can easily retrace the past lives of this village but it feels wrong for some reason. He may be a God who has the ability to know and understand everything but this...this doesn't feel right at all. Not yet at least, and he cannot pinpoint what is it that draws him to this place, a feeling he's never felt with the places they've visited before.

When Jungkook looks around, the coldness lies in his heart, a feeling he has gotten used to since years prior ever since the first January 24th had hurt him. He takes slow steps with his hyungs behind him, carefully watching him and the village and wondering what thoughts are going on in his head. "It's strange but..." his eyes fall to the snow below him, footsteps hidden under the endless snow that continues falling and falling. He feels as if there are fresh footsteps just under the snow but even then he cannot erase the blanket to see it. "There is a life here," he says in a soft whisper.

"If our soulmate is really here," Jimin's eyes fall sad as it wanders all around at the snowy mountain of an abandoned village, his chest tightening with a heart that begins to ache, "they must have been oh so alone."

"Whatever happened here," the God of Music steps up to the center of the village that seems to hold the most memories of them all, sounds of music falling so distant to his ears, something he knows only lies in the past, "there are souls that have yet to be released."

A gasp leaves someone's lips and they are quick to turn around at the foreign voice, a sight that comes with a girl dressed in a dark blue cloak that they know must not be keeping her warm. Her eyes shake with fear, a basket that had fallen to the foot of her dress, hands pressed against her chest as she trembles at the sight of them. Her face pales, mouth drying, and they can hear the mortal's heart beating oh so rapidly.

"Forgive us," Seokjin announces as soon as he can before you can go into a panic. "We did not mean to intrude, is this your home?"

Your heart relaxes for a moment at his voice but you are still filled with fear. You haven't seen anyone in your village for such a long time, not since the raid, and you fear that they must be one of them. "I..I-If you wish to kill me, please do it quickly."

Oh.

Oh no.

Tears fall from your precious eyes and it hurts Jungkook as he shudders at the same time as you. Your eyes fall to him, a little intrigued, but still so, so fearful and he knows, he knows that you must have gone through so much with a heart that beats so rapidly at just the sight of men.

But he isn't a man, he is a God, a high and powerful God that can bend the Earth to its core if he simply wishes to do so. Those eyes of yours look so painful it hurts his own heart. The God of Hearth may have felt coldness before, just as the day before always being the worst of it all, but this...this feeling is a little more strange...foreign yet familiar at the same time.

"We are not here to kill you," he says. "We are Gods."

"...Gods.."

He isn't supposed to say so to hide their identity but it just feels right.

He steps up and the others follow a few feet behind. "I am the God of Hearth and we are looking for our last soulmate. We believe it to be a mortal."

You can tell they aren't normal humans. You can tell they aren't humans at all with the glowing aura all around them and how he calms your heart to a steadier beat at his voice alone. A celestial being. A God. Seven Gods right in front of you.

"No one else lives here," you tell the God of Hearth while his eyes never seem to leave yours as he continues walking forward. You don't step back for some reason, probably because you are too afraid to just leave and run away from a God. "I am the only one who lives here."

He hums. "I see that."

"There is a village about a mile away if you wish to check there."

"Have you not considered another option, dear one?" He asks you, snow crunching under his steps as he continues forward.

You shake your head slowly. "I highly doubt someone like me can even be worthy to be considered a soulmate to the Gods."

Jungkook steps up to you but he doesn't go any further to make sure you feel safe at a good distance. He holds his hands out for you and you watch, confusion displayed in your eyes before you look up at him again with a questioning gaze. "May I?" He simply asks.

You hesitate but this is a God asking you for something so you know you will offend him if you do not do as he asks. So you hold your hand out slowly with him so patient, just watching until you are ready to touch him. He hears the beat of your heart beating rapidly again but remains patient. When you finally allow him to hold your hand, the instant your skin meets him in a delicate touch, a vision falls into his mind.

He sees everything.

He sees the life of a little girl that had been born into a beautiful village and your sweet parents naming you Y/N. The village celebrates the birth of a child just as its always done, a tradition that will never fall away for as long as they are alive. He sees the cute pigtails on your head when you had enough hair for your mother to decorate it. He sees your loving parents that will do everything just to have their little daughter grow into someone precious and kind for the world to meet.

He sees you when you cried with your mother after your father's death, a little girl just twelve years of mortal age who should have never felt such responsibilities hanging off her shoulders at such a young age. But with time and your mother beginning to grow old, you have to step up to be the good daughter and tend to her, missing your own childhood despite how many times your mother tells you to go play while she sleeps. Sometimes she will pretend to have fallen into a dream just to see whether you have listened to her.

But you never leave your mother's side, only worrying for her in case you do leave and do not hear when she coughs and needs your help.

He sees you grow older and maturing to seventeen years old. You'll roll your eyes when your mother tells you to go out and find someone for yourself, telling her that you are too young to even think of marriage and laughing it all off though he can understand that deep inside, you do wish that in the future, not now, someone will come by to love and cherish you as you will love and cherish them.

The days are spent well with you occasionally leaving your home only for errands upon finding herbs, food, and fresh new firewood for your home. Jungkook sees a little boy named Mingyu who will try to sneak away behind your back, following you close behind when you'd walk down the mountain but you'll always catch him in the act. Some days you will allow him to accompany you, some days you will ask him to return home because it is too cold for him to be out.

Your village is lively and lovely, so different from how things look now. They will greet you when you come out and bid you goodbye when you return home. Everyone knows everyone, a tribe built up on a loving family. You rarely attend festivals and celebrations, however, always too busy tending to your sick mother.

But then he sees the one memory that you hate most of all.

He hears the loud barking of wild dogs in the distant, sees how you're begging your mother to hide in the basement and crying because she's telling you otherwise. She wants you to go in instead, knowing her life isn't worth fighting for anymore but that fighting this one last time will be her last mission in life. You cried in her arms when she held you, kissing you on the head, whispering soft words before pushing you into the basement and slamming the doors shut.

He sees your memories then, watching from the small window as your heart aches and numbs at the sight of the slaughtering. He sees you breaking a window, grabbing a shard and stabbing yourself for a pretend death when one of the men barges in with a dog beside him. He feels your fear, scared for your life, afraid of the dog. But you are left alone when the owner doesn't understand the barking of the wild dog.

He sees you as you're running around, screaming and shouting, calling for any survivors but no one, not even a soul, along with your mother and little Mingyu dead on the floors of your village. You're traumatized yet you still dig up holes after holes to bury your tribe in order for them to rest peacefully and not in vain. Your fingers go numb from the hard work and the freezing cold yet you never stop, going past days with no rest in between, tears endlessly falling and freezing under the cold snowy weather.

You haven't eaten a good meal in years, just seventeen years old having to carry the last remaining memories of your tribe, having to survive all on your own with no one by your side. Just seventeen years old having to become dependent on yourself. You learned to make your own clothes instead of just sewing to patch things up. Though it doesn't go well in the beginning, you learn the skills eventually as time passes. The water is always the coldest for you to wash and bathe in, your bed on a hard wood, no pillows, no warmth to keep you safe and secure.

Yet when Jungkook opens his eyes again, you have no hatred and vengeance in your heart, no sign of wanting revenge. The only thing he feels is your fear of your future and how you will continue surviving, questions swarming in your head as to why and how you are still alive after ten years of isolation. He has never met a human so selfless and kind with just the slight light of hope still left in her despite everything. You are afraid but you try not to show it and his heart hurts.

Jungkook turns to his soulmates behind him and they step up, surrounding you. They stand in a circle, fluttering their eyes closed and telling you silently that you must do so as well. Hands are placed upon your arms, soft, delicate and warm touches, and something strange and unfamiliar occurs.

You feel warmth surging through your body, a heat so warm you aren't sure whether this is real or not anymore. But it isn't just the warmth you are feeling, it's the feeling of walking on clouds, euphoria, head spinning with fairy lights and soft, soft ecstasy. It's so much more than the festivities of your tribe that celebrates many traditions, so much more than when you'd play around with little Mingyu who loves you to no end. It is sweet and delicate, fragile yet so strong and firm, not like the promise of your village that will one day be buried under the snow.

You see so many things, a beautiful celestial palace made of heaven lights. You see stars in one room, a whole room filled of the planets and galaxies of universes all around. You see a room filled with books upon books, a room of music, the soft blue tide of the vast ocean that stretches so wide and falls into the horizon, a sun that glows so bright in the sky, a home of warmth and hearth, and Spring. You see Spring for the first time in the life of a wisteria tree. It's petals flutters to the ground though the vines still holds firm and powerful, swaying gently and dancing to the soft whisper of the wind.

You see the life of the Gods before you. Meeting one another as if destiny has placed them in each other's paths. Soft smiles, soft hellos and goodnights, soft touches and soft kisses pressed against one another. A soft, soft love that whispers in their ears each passing day. When one is away they will feel empty, already missing one's presence the second they leave the palace grounds. Together they make each other stronger than any other Gods. Everyone around them looks up to them, bowing their ways, worshipping their presence for seven soulmates is much stronger than two souls.

Yet no matter how happy they are, there is still something missing. The wisteria may look divine but it is not in its full bloom, it is not as strong as it should be. The petals that falls off the vines hangs in vain and sadness, fluttering to the floor, still wishing and needing one last puzzle that is missing.

A missing soulmate.

You feel the aching in the God of Hearth's heart, how he will shiver on some occasions, the way he hurts the most on January 24th. And you think you understand what the means. January 24th is not a day that is happy for you, a day that is filled with grief and pain, a day that is the coldest out of any other day. You think you understand because the flame of the Hearth is a light that gives warmth to the mortals. But you have not been the warmest in the years that passed by since the raid. You think...perhaps...you understand.

"Do you understand?" You open your eyes to find them staring into your soul, and they can feel that you understand but have some doubts. "You are the one, my sweet precious mortal," the God of Knowledge holds your face in his hand and you find yourself consciously leaning into the touch. The warmth is nice. You love it so much you wish to cry. "You are our last soulmate."

"Will you accept us?" The God of Ocean asks. "Will you come home to us? Allow us to give you an endless warmth that shall never disappear?"

"To live an immortal life? Become an immortal yourself?"

"To never have to know what pain and hurting feels like ever again. To never feel afraid anymore."

"Will you let us protect you from now on? Give you a home, a safe, warm home."

"And let you meet the one thing you have always been waiting for. To let you see Spring."

Spring.

They can feel the way your heart skips a beat at the sound and Jimin smiles softly. You have always wished to see what Spring looks like, when the Winter will melt away and the birds will chirp and flowers will grow, blooming to their fullest and giving off such sweet scents. You want to smell the flowers, to feel the rain kissing your body, to see a rainbow, to go barefoot and feel the grass poking through the gaps of your toes. You want to lie on the ground, run around freely without heavy coats on you, to feel a breeze that will not make you shiver and have your nose growing red.

You want to be kissed by Spring, greeted with a beautiful welcome and never have to leave its warmth. You want it, you want to meet Spring.

But they can also feel the hesitation in your heart. You do not wish to leave your village like this, you're the only one left to hold its memories after all, the only one left of your tribe. They feel hatred and anger for the ones that have made you suffer for so long, to live alone in isolation and miss the feeling of someone touching you for a whole ten years. They want to hunt those humans down, their selfishness and greed for blood making them boil to serve them justice.

"I.." you speak up timidly, a little fearful that it won't be right to do so but Yoongi places a gentle hand on your head, soothing it gently.

"It's alright, little one. You will never offend us if you ever wish to speak."

You pick up your courage to look at the village before you. "I don't want to leave my home like this."

"There are souls of your tribe that is still roaming around, little one," Namjoon informs you and your head snaps to him, eyes brimming with tears and making him sad to see them.

"You can see them?" You ask, breath shaky.

He shakes his head lightly. "We can feel them. They are here, sweet one." He takes your hand into his hold as he gently brings you to the middle of the village before turning you so that you can face the grounds. "Their souls have been left broken and shattered but they've never given up hope because of you."

"Because of me?"

The God of Knowledge hums. "You've survived for so long trying to keep this place alive." He's seen the way you pretend everyone was still here, watching their ghosts through your memories and speaking to them as if they were still alive.

"They haven't been able to rest in peace," you realize with sad eyes.

"Don't worry," Seokjin steps up as he places a hand on your shoulder and watches the memories with you, "I can send them off now for you."

"You can do that?"

He nods, humming. "All they've ever wanted was for you to live as if you are living again. And now they see hope." Through him. "They can go on now because their little Y/N can find something worth living for."

A tear falls from your eye and Namjoon squeezes your hand in a gentle manner.

"It will be alright," he tells you softly. "You can bid your goodbyes now."

All your ten years of living alone you thought that your tribe would wish for you to keep the tradition in your memories, to never let it die. You never knew that what they truly wanted, what they all wanted, was for you to live again. So a few more tears escape your eyes as your chest tightens and a hand reaches out into the open. You pretend that someone has taken your hand, your mother, with little Mingyu just beside you and the rest of the village behind them. You pretend that they are smiling down at you, softly bidding their goodbyes.

You can hear your mother whispering for you to be happy now and you can hear little Mingyu telling you to smile again.

You nod at them, closing your hand into a small fist. "Goodbye," you say and when Seokjin, the God that holds the galaxies, close his eyes, you can feel the souls leaving one by one, drifting off to the skies with little waves made at you.

They can finally rest in peace at last.

"Come here," the Sun God holds a hand out for you a few seconds later and you go to him with no hesitation, letting him take your hand. "You are hurt, my dear. Can you close your eyes?" You do as he asks and feel soft lips pressing against your forehead seconds later.

Hoseok releases his magic to transfer into your body, letting you feel a warmth rising, a warmth that makes you feel so light on your feet. It runs through your veins, healing the numbness of your fingers and toes, collecting the water from where your body stays cold, lifting the freezing feeling from you and replacing it with the warmth of the sun. Wherever there had been scars on your body, he heals as well. The scar that rests near your stomach is lifted as if it had never been there before and when he leans away, you still feel so light on your feet.

"Thank you," you say with a slight blush forming on your soft cheeks when you lift your eyes to find him so close.

Hoseok smiles, understanding through the touch that you find him attractive, an information he finds convenient because you yourself is so beautiful he can hardly believe his eyes. You have the beauty not meant for a human, a beauty that glows so delicately he doesn't believe anyone can be worthy to look upon you. "Of course, dear one," he tells you and presses another kiss to your forehead, this one being actually meant to be a kiss.

Your cheeks warm a little more at the gesture and he chuckles, loving your reactions to every little thing.

"Are you ready, my love?"

My love.

You red at the soft name from the God of Music and think that perhaps you will have to get used to such things. So you nod at him and Yoongi takes your hand. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you do so with no question.

Something shifts under your feet and you can feel your surrounding changing despite not actually seeing. When Yoongi tells you you can open your eyes again, you are met with a bright world just in front of you. The memories that belongs to them rushes back to you and you realize this is their home, their palace. It is so divine you can hardly believe your eyes. The castle stands so tall with a magnificent garden that surrounds its grounds.

You breathe in the wonderful scent and almost sway on your feet.

Spring. It smells like Spring.

You rush forward to walk up the steps of the castle and look back as you skip in, sounds of giggles escaping your lips and making their own hearts so warm. The sight of you so happy at the little things alone makes them smile as they walk in, following the curious little mortal who wishes to see everything. But they know that you will have time to see everything later. Right now you're tired and need to rest.

"My love." You turn at the call of Taehyung's voice and skip back to him, ears attentive. The God of Ocean gaze fondly at you as he lifts his hand to tuck your hair behind your ears. "You are tired, my sweet angel." He hears your thoughts, the embarrassment of how you must look with your damp clothes and messy hair from the strong wind of the Winter mountain and pets you on your head. "You can wash first," he says and your eyes widen a little with a little moment of confusion before he feels you understand that you are soulmates now and they can read your thoughts through just simple touches.

"Okay," you say with your sweet voice. He doesn't think he will ever get over such music to his ears.

"Come now." He takes your hand and leads you down the grand hall of the castle where you will be spending the rest of your life in.

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.

.

The water is so different from the freezing cold back on the mountain. It is so warm and gentle you almost feel like falling asleep in the bath. It's grand, a bathtub so large and you think that perhaps the Gods share their bath times together. You blush at the thought of possibly needing to do that as well, not yet ready at the moment but knowing that in the near future you will one day bathe with them.

You giggle to yourself thinking of it and submerge your head into the water as if you should not have thought of such things. But you know that it's fine, you are soulmates after all, connecting in ways simple relationships of the mortals will never come to feel and understand. It's a nice thing you know you will love to get used to as you swoop up a few rose petals in your hand, breathing in the rose scent bath and laying your head back.

What a lovely life you know you will never get tired of.

Just hours prior you were freezing cold as you wandered the grounds of the mountain, trying to collect herbs and firewood, trying to find food. Nothing comes easy living in the mountain especially while living in isolation so some days you would have to go to sleep shivering so hard, some days you would have to suffer through fevers and other health risks, and some days you would have to starve for a few days until you can find food to eat.

Looking back on the memory not far back yet, you feel a rushing fear crawling down your spine as you think that perhaps this can all be a dream, just a wishful thinking, a daydream, and you'd wake up to the coldness of your lonely home all over again.

You've had dreams before, of living with warmth, living in Spring, and woke up only to fall sad all over again as you realize it had all been a dream. But right now this feels too real to be a dream yet at the same time, too true to be true, and you hate how you're so frightened of having to go back to your old life. Will that ever go away as time passes? Or will you wake up thinking time did passed when this had indeed all been a dream?

You let out a soft sigh as you think about the possibilities, brows furrowing with a sadness that hurts your heart.

But then you hear soft music playing, the sound of a beautiful harp as if the God of Music had just heard your thoughts and wishes to ease you from it. Your heart flutters as you look around, face brightening all over again wondering if Yoongi is thinking of you right now. He must be, right? A few butterflies untangle themselves in your tummy and begin to flutter freely.

Oh how you hope this is all a reality and not just a wishful dream.

The harp continues on and on, softly wanting to lure you to sleep but you know that you must get out first and not fall asleep in the bath.

When you open the doors to the bedroom timidly, head poking out shyly because you know they're in there, they smile at the sight of you and silently welcome you in. You have on a sheepish smile as you walk in dressed in a white bathrobe with wet hair and looking so pretty and clean.

Your skin glows with a fresh flowery scent and they almost fall breathless at the sight of your beauty right before them. They knew you were beautiful the moment they laid eyes on you but now that you're fresh and out of the bath, they can't believe you can look even more beautiful.

Jimin walks up to you and runs a towel along your head to dry your wet hair, fearing that you may catch a cold if it isn't dried right away. Sure you may be used to the cold but they still feel overprotective of you and wish for nothing to happen to you. You're their precious girl now, after all, and they will never let anything bad happen to you again. You've suffered for far too long living all alone and just trying to survive through the cruel reality of life.

When he sees the soft pink on your cheeks, Jimin smiles as he realizes you must have read his thoughts. "You are so beautiful, my love." Your heart flutters under his gaze and words and Jimin can't believe they have gotten such a precious soul to be their last piece of the puzzle. "We have to get you your own clothes but for now will you fit mine?"

You nod at his offer and suddenly feel a flutter of the wind before you lightly gasp down at yourself, a sight of the God of Spring's royal robe wrapped around your body to replace the white bathrobe. "Wow," you say in awe and they chuckle at how easily you are astonished. It's a little big on you, the robe falling to the floor and hiding your feet, sleeves a little too long and sliding off just slightly from your shoulders. But it is a sight that makes Jimin excited seeing you in his clothes.

He takes your chin in his hand for you to look up at him and presses a kiss right on the tip of your nose. "You must be hungry." Right on time your stomach growls and you lick your lips, causing him to grin.

They feed you a meal that is laid out on a tray, not allowing you to use your hands for one second and insisting to do the job instead. They spoil you with so many things that in the end, you become so full and have to push their hands away before they can feed you some more. But you let Namjoon hand you a fruit before you fall back into Jungkook's chest.

"Sleepy?" He senses your energy, watching as your eyes flutter drowsily and runs a finger down to the tip of your nose. "Sleep, my dear, you've had such a long day."

You take ahold of his hand, small fist wrapping around his forefinger after grabbing the courage to snuggle in close and the God of Hearth chuckles as they all coo. "But what if I wake up back on the mountain?" You worry and he understands that you have been thinking of it back in your alone moment in the bathtub. Jungkook knows then that it is not a good idea to leave you alone for long, not when you'll begin to question whether it is right for you to truly be happy because he knows that you deserve all of this.

A happy life, to be loved and cherished.

"I'm scared," you whimper though your eyes are drowsy and you let out a yawn soon after.

"Trust me, my love, we will be right here when you wake up."

"Promise?" You ask in a small voice.

He hums. "I promise."

"Kiss me goodnight?" They chuckle and does as you ask, placing soft kisses upon your face and head, missing the one spot that leaves your lips. But you're fine with it. Not yet, it will come with time when you are a little more comfortable.

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.

.

You hear the morning birds chirping for the first time and that is what excites you awake.

It comes out so soft to your ears at first, you lying on your side with someone holding you from behind and Yoongi right in front of you. The bed is large enough to hold many people and you blush under their closeness before you fall distracted by the song of the birds. A light gasp leaves you when you continue to hear it, its chirping falling so gentle and sweet so you sit up and take Seokjin's arm off you to crawl off the bed.

Your light footsteps leaves you past the curtains and onto the large balcony that greets you with the kisses of the gentle breeze. You grin brilliantly as you lean onto the railing, back arching forward as you breath in the sweet smell of the warm air. Before you lies the crystal ocean that goes on and on past the horizon where the sun lies up above. It shimmers under the light of the morning sun, sparkling like gemstones and you realize that no, you haven't woken up to a freezing cold and damp blanket with the howling wind of the mountain greeting you awake.

You have no need to prepare yourself to head out into the cold, trying to find herbs and firewood, trying to find food. You have no need to worry about that anymore because this is your life now. Greeted by the lovely breeze, greeted by Spring, greeted by love.

Someone comes up behind you and you jump for a moment before feeling his arms wrap around you from behind, his familiar hands welcoming you in with a head nuzzling into your neck before simply resting right on your shoulder. "Good morning, sweet love," he greets in a low husky voice to tell you that he had just woken up. A smile curls along his lips as he reads your thoughts of how much you love his deep voice.

"You kept your promise."

"Of course," Jungkook chuckles. "This feels nice, does it not?"

You hum, leaning back closer to his hold. "It's so different. So warm."

"I feel better too," he admits and reminds you through his thoughts of how the God of Hearth also had to suffer a bit because his heart connects to you in a way more special compared to the rest. The Hearth's flame is meant for the mortals after all.

"I'm sorry," you tell him and Jungkook frowns.

"No, my love, you have no need to apologize. This was never your doing."

"But it must have been difficult hurting and not knowing why."

He turns you in his hold so that you can face him, face leaning in close with a pout. "You suffered so much more than I," he reminds you as he brushes your hair away to the side. "I knew you were suffering, we all did, but it took so long to finally find you."

"That isn't your fault. I lived in isolation in a village that should have never been found."

"I only wish we had found you sooner."

You shake your head lightly. "Nothing can be done to turn back time now."

Oh how Jungkook loves you already. You have such a kind soul, a selfless soul, with no darkness in sight despite all that had happened to you. He wonders how you were able to do this, held onto hope for so long, to spend ten years all alone in a place that kept you so cold and freezing, lacking the ability to touch another being, visited by no one but the knocking of the restless wind outside your home.

He wants to make it all better, to help you heal and grow, and to only hold onto precious happy memories from now on.

When you look back at him with a sweet gaze, he knows that you can understand him despite no words said. You can read him too and Jungkook smiles as he rest his forehead against yours, just holding you there as the two of you revel in the soft breeze that passes by. You can feel cold no longer, nothing but a soft warmth that the God of Hearth holds with him.

When the afternoon comes, you're wandering around the castle, watching through the memories of your Gods to remember what room lies where. You've ran through the magnificent garden barefoot, smelling the scent of all the flowers that were grown, touching the petals and feeling how soft it is under your touch. The grass tickles your feet, the stone paths rubbing you gently. A fountain sits at the center of the garden, hedges displayed all around sort of like a maze.

Everything is green and colorful with the robe of Jimin's dragging behind you as you become the curious little fella who runs around everywhere because everything fascinates you. You travel down to the ocean next, feeling the white sand under your bare feet and giggling as you touch and run from the water that comes and goes. Seashells are found all around the beach, little crabs running around and crawling into your palm when you let it. It does you no harm though you have heard stories of all crabs being able to pinch anyone that touches them.

Perhaps the humans really do not know much. But then again, maybe you should not have trust a tribe that only knows what Winter looks like. You laugh to yourself thinking about it and then become a little more curious as you recall the library you saw in your memories. It must belong to Namjoon, the God of Knowledge.

You stand up from the beach, letting the little crabs crawl back down onto the sand and wave them goodbye before you leave for the castle again. You run through a path with trees at two sides, reminding you that you should check out the wisteria as well after the library. You retrace your steps as you look into your memories to understand where the books are, skipping around the halls of the castle care freely with shoes now on, staring at the tall ceiling up above, the beautiful crystal glass windows in designs of each God or of plants and simple objects.

When you open the familiar looking doors from your memories, you gasp at the sight of the thousands of books placed on shelves upon shelves, leading into the room and looking like an endless hall. It looks so much more enchanting than what you had seen in the memories just as the garden and the ocean. You cannot believe there are so many books, almost every one of them you know you have never read.

"Well hello there my dear." You jump at the voice before understanding that it belongs to the God of Knowledge as he emerges from a shelf that had hidden him. He holds an open book in hand with a sweet smile resting on his face, charming dimples displayed upon his cheeks and making your heart skip a beat.

"Namjoon," you sigh as you skip up to him. "The gardens are so beautiful! Jimin created it, didn't he? And the ocean, it's so vast and magnificent I cannot believe such beauty exists in this universe. I know there are so many other places to visit but I don't know how I can look at them all before growing exhausted by running all over."

He laughs as he holds your face, fingers tracing down your temple and down your jaw. "My love you have all the time in the world to explore. You must remember to not exhaust yourself so fast."

"There's just so much to see," you beam before letting out a gasp as if you had just recalled something. "I want to read!"

He chuckles fondly. "Do you now?"

"Mn!"

"Come here." He takes your hand, not needing to voice out what books you would like to read because he can already read your mind. So he leads you down to the center of the library where lays a circle of shelves. He walks you to the middle, holding onto your waist steady as you bite against your lower lip with anticipation, already understanding even before the floor lifts into the air upwards because you have seen it in the memories.

The lift brings the two of you up to where a flooring hovers in the air, supported by fluffy white clouds that falls past your hands but will support your weight when you step onto it. You giggle as you feel the clouds on your feet before letting Namjoon sit you upon a comfortable chair shaped in a ball and made of clouds. He hands you a book taken out of thin air.

"If there is anything else you need, just call me."

You nod eagerly before leaning your back into the chair and open up to the first page of the book.

You're addicted in no time and spend hours upon hours forgetting about everything else as you dive into the world of imaginations created on pieces of paper.

"My love?" You hear him when you are on your fifth book, humming softly to indicate that you hear him but your eyes remain on the little words displayed on the pages of the book. Namjoon sighs. "Come now." You pout. "It is time for dinner, sweetheart."

"Just...one more chapter."

He knows what that sounds like and shakes his head as he walks up to you, taking the book away and having you whining after it. The God of Knowledge chuckles at how adorable you are and mark the page you are on before closing it shut. You pout again but he presses a kiss to your head and makes you blush. Namjoon loves your little reactions to simple romantic gestures. "Come now," he repeats and holds his hand out.

This time you do not protest.

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.

.

"Go on, try them on."

You collect the dresses in hand and they watch as you head for the bathroom only to pause in your steps and turn back with a sheepish smile.

"What is it?" Hoseok asks.

"Will you dress me instead?" Heat blooms upon your face when their eyes widen and you realize what they think you mean by that and is quick to stutter through. "N-not like that! I meant will you..uh...u-use your powers? You know, like how Jimin dressed me in his robe?"

You are so adorable when you're flustered and a blushing mess because you aren't used to relationships like this. The only thing you've been exposed to in this life is a beautiful love of a village and the parents that had raised you. You've known nothing about loving a man, was never able to be given that privilege because your tribe had gone before anything could truly happen, before you could even think about trying to find another who could protect and love you. So of course you are shy when you're around them but they know more than anyone that this is alright, you're okay, and they will love and cherish you in place of the loneliness that had bloomed over the past ten years.

So when Taehyung stands before you and you shy away, he does not mind it, knowing one day you will come around to it. He caresses your face for a moment, reading your thoughts filled of embarrassment and letting you read him to let you know that this is fine, this is alright and he does not mind anything. You are soulmates after all, meant for one another and written under the stars. You have no need to shy away under their gaze, free to speak your mind, and that even if you did mean what they had initially thought, they would dress you still.

But he tells you that he understands you are not ready just yet and lets you know that this is fine, this is alright. You can take as much time as you need, as much as you want, and none of them will ever mind.

His feelings allow you to calm, blush slowly falling away and Taehyung smiles at the sight of your shoulders falling back down to your sides. He snaps his fingers and you feel the flutter of the familiar wind just as the first time it was done to you and they watch as the dress falls onto your skin. It hugs you perfectly, soft golden shimmers falling all the way to the floor with beautiful yellow petals decorated almost all around.

You are a sight they have been blessed with, a beauty too perfect for the eyes to even dare see. They find themselves so lucky to have someone like you as their last soulmate, a lovely pretty lady with such a gentle heart too pure for the world.

"You are truly beautiful, my love." You blush again at Seokjin's words who holds a fond gaze upon your face.

"Mmn," Hoseok hums, "but as much as we'd like to stay and just stare at you all day, we must leave."

Your brows crease slightly as you look up at him. "You're all leaving?"

"Hoseok and I," Seokjin tells you as he strokes your cheek to ease your little worries, "the rest will be here."

"Where are you going?" You ask.

He looks at the Gods for a brief moment before gifting you a small smile. "To give justice to the ones that were the cause to your pain and suffering."

"Oh." You shiver and he can feel your fear and the slight aching that reaches your heart.

"Do not worry, my love," Hoseok says as he walks up to your other side to take your hand and kiss the back of it. "We will take care of everything from now on, alright?"

They let you know that they do not love violence, that they would much rather deal with things with words but when time comes, some things are meant to play out with violence if needed. They tell you that they will deal with this logically and not of blind anger and you nod at their unspoken words, head leaning against Seokjin's touch and squeezing Hoseok's hand lightly to let them know that you trust them to make the right decisions.

"We will be right back," the eldest tells you and you nod.

When they disappear to transport themselves away, you're still slightly conflicted as the memories begin returning. "Come here," Yoongi encourages with soft words as he holds out a hand to you. "When was the last time you've heard music?"

Besides that time in the bathtub it has truly been far too long. So you let him whisk you away from the bedroom and into a room that you had once seen in the memories.

Yoongi's grand music room is divine. Instruments are displayed in perfect order, harps and pianos and the violins and all sorts of musical instruments, even some you have never seen before in your life. You are from the mountain after all, and your tribe hasn't really come to understand and seen much but you've seen a few common instruments in the picture books the elderlies would tell stories upon.

He takes you up a flight of stairs made of glass, spiraling up towards what looks like the ceiling but you know that he is bringing you to some place a little more special as you have seen in the memories. The stairs lead up to the roof where you walk onto the platform of the tower made of pillars that circles the floor and lets you see down the grounds of the palace and past it, a sight much more than the balcony in the bedroom.

You are so high up you feel like you might fall but with Yoongi behind you as you hold onto a pillar and look down, you know that you are safe. You can see almost everything. The ocean, the outline of the gorgeous garden surrounding the castle, how enormous the castle is, and an enchanting forest that surrounds the palace grounds.

"The more I visit these memories in real life, the more speechless I become because everything is just so...breathless!"

The God of Music chuckles as you spin around to feel the wind rush around you, flaring your dress out and making you look like a fairy. He sits on a little stool, fingers beginning to pluck the strings on the harp and you fall silent as you sit down to watch Yoongi, eyes fluttering close after a moment just to hear the sound of the beautiful music playing as the wind carries it from room to room and over the ocean and forest that surrounds the palace grounds.

It's magical, every note perfectly played and echoing out into the world for all to hear.

This is the music of the Gods.

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.

.

Yoongi has to go somewhere after a while so you are left alone to yourself, happily skipping down the halls again in trying to see where your feet will lead you first; the wisteria or the galaxy room that belongs to Seokjin. Both rooms you truly want to see and knowing you have plenty of time yet too excited to wait.

You walk into a grand open space before blindly taking a right without looking back into the memories to know where you are going. Sometimes being lost is the best way to discover new things, your curiosity only getting the best of you as you giggle about in the halls. But then you feel a presence and stop walking, brows furrowed slightly with confusion and curiosity, wondering whether it is one of the Gods.

Until you hear a bark and fear crawls down your back as you turn and see a sight that fears you most of all.

When they hear the scream, they are quick to transport themselves to you in an instant with Jimin wrapping his arms around you and holding your face against his chest. You shake in fear, crying into his protective hold as Jungkook steps up to the guard dog whom they have simply forgotten was still around. You're afraid of dogs after those wild ones had been the ones to track your village down and almost kill you along the rest of your tribe. So he signals for it to leave as quickly as possible, the dog a little confused he had scared someone but disappearing at his master's order.

He turns back to you when it's finally gone for you to finally relax but as they watch you shaking in Jimin's arms and refusing to look up, their heart breaks at the sight. Jimin can understand your thoughts, mind retracing back to the memories on the day it all crashed down for you. He sees you reminded of when you were down in your basement, bleeding out, faking your death as the dog walked over and sniffed at you.

You can hear the continuous barking as it tries to tell its owner that you are still alive, that you're just faking your death. It growls your way when its owner shouts at it to follow him and you can still feel its eyes on you even as it leaves.

Jimin runs his hand up and down along your back, whispering soft soothing words to help you calm, to remind you that you are alright now, that they are here and nothing can harm you ever again. You know, he understands that you know, but you're still afraid of everything being just a dream and that one day you will indeed wake up from this beautiful world. Jimin holds you tightly in his arms, brows furrowed, meeting the gaze of Taehyung, Jungkook, and Namjoon who shares the same conflicted thoughts and anger for what you had to go through.

Their precious girl, their precious soulmate who suffered so much because of human greed and the inability to feel as they do not hesitate one tiny bit upon killing a whole tribe made of small warriors, children, women, and elderlies who never hoped to ever fight in wars.

They can only pray for Seokjin and Hoseok to hear their anger and do well upon punishing the people that had done this to you.

.

.

.

You asked them to leave you be so that you can remain alone for a while. Of course the Gods weren't going to allow you without complaint, trying to convince you otherwise as they worry for you and although you felt touched, you shook your head then, too tired to argue and just wanting to be left alone because you are so used to dealing with everything by yourself. So you walk around the castle again, footsteps now heavy and slow, just letting your feet carry you to wherever. It's isolating and lonely, a feeling you hadn't felt for a few days, returning with melancholy and fear.

You don't know what to do, how this will all work out, why you have even become a soulmate of seven powerful and loving Gods too sweet for their own goods. You don't deserve this, you deserve to remain where you were, back on the mountain, trying to survive on your own.

You can still feel the numbness of your fingers, your aching feet as it walks and walks, trying to find just simple things in order to live on each day. You can still hear the howling of the wind as it passes by and by, the snowflakes that falls endlessly from the ongoing Winter skies, the ghost of a village that had once been so lovely and full of life. Everything was so wrong then, to grow old as a seventeen years old mortal, crying and crying yet having the need to pick yourself up because you knew crying wasn't going to bring anyone back. You had to stand up, to pick up the shovels, to dig and bury, to wipe your tears away and suck it all up because of the humans that knew no difference between love and hate.

Still you never felt any vengeance towards them, just fear and pain because they could not understand to care or have a heart. The world is a scary placed filled with scary people and frightening things that will visit your sleep and taint your lovely dreams.

You know this is wrong, to run away and try to face your problems alone when you have soulmates, Gods who just wants to make it all better. You know it is wrong to take that away from them, to shut them out, and to put up a wall. But you are afraid to feel happy, knowing it will never last forever and that one day, even if this is all true, perhaps this will all end. You are afraid to give into the love, to let them take care of you. What if they find something within you that they do not particularly like? Would you have to change? Do you have to be perfect? They are Gods after all and you are just a lone human walking in the heavens.

Why are you here? Why have you tried to be happy when you know you cannot?

Something falls onto the foot of your dress, a flutter, a fluttering petal, then another. You look up, eyes trailing the path of the little petals that the wind has carried to your feet and there, right in front of you lies the one beautiful thing that had struck hard in the memories the Gods had given onto you.

A wisteria.

You remember how the Gods will visit this room of the celestial tree lying in the center of the palace, a circle opening roof lying on the top to give it its sunlight and rain when it needs it. Its leaves and petals fall around the foot of it, the wind carrying it to flutter a few feet away. When the Gods come, they will reach out and give it the power it needs in order to grow strong, the God of Spring being the most frequent guest since he had been the one to grow it in the first place. But you know how their love have made the tree stronger with just one simple touch. As each new soulmate is found, they will visit the tree and touch its vine, releasing their energy to the tree and helping it to grow to its max.

And you are the last one, the remaining soulmate that will make it grow into its full blossom.

A hand reaches out hesitantly, head tilted slightly to the side with wonder, and you see the way a vine begins to reach out as well. But just as you're about to let it wrap around your hand, you take your hand back to fall behind you.

Afraid.

"Why do you falter?" You hear the God of Spring from behind you, knowing it is him without needing to look back. His footsteps walk towards you but stops halfway. "I know you asked us to leave you alone but I cannot, my love. I know you are still frightened."

You do not say a thing for a while, just staring at the tree before you with thoughts running all over. He wishes he can read your mind but he will need to touch you for that and right now he isn't sure if he is welcomed to do so or not. So Jimin remains where he is, giving you a safe distance in case you absolutely do not want him around. Perhaps he should leave, let you be, but Jimin worries that the horrible thing your mind may lead you to think will only hurt you more and he does not wish to see you in any more pain.

"It won't be easy you know..." you say in a soft, soft whisper.

His brows furrow, wondering what you mean.

"...trying to love me."

Jimin cannot take it no longer so he steps up in front of you to look you straight in the eyes, his gaze serious and filled with pain. Not because you said he couldn't love you but because you think it will take so much effort just to love you. You, the sweetest most kindest and selfless soul he has ever met, someone who doesn't wish death upon the ones that made you suffer for so long, someone who only wishes the enemy could learn to love rather than getting vengeance on them. You who was only a teen when her tribe was murdered. You who was forced to grow old and pick yourself up when you were hurting the most, seeing the dead bodies of your family, carrying their bodies, burying them into the grounds of the mountain.

Jimin hurts because you do not see worth within yourself, he hurts because you cannot see yourself living a happily ever after, you who is too afraid to love and be happy because you are afraid it will backfire and your story will end with pain and suffering.

He takes your hand, pressing it against his chest to let you understand all the emotions he is feeling. He lets you understand his pain, his frustration and anger towards the ones that have made you see yourself in such darkness, and lets you understand that no, no it will not be difficult. It will be the easiest thing in the world.

"Do you know why?" He asks you. "Do you know why it will be the easiest thing in the world?" He feels that you don't so Jimin continues with tears the prick in his eyes and falls before he can blink them away. Your heart hurts at the sight and begin to cry yourself but Jimin is going to tell you. "Because I have already fallen in love from the moment I laid my eyes on you."

You fall perplexed. "But...you didn't know I was your soulmate then."

"I knew," he tells you. "I knew from the first moment you looked at me with fear. I knew since I stepped foot into your village. I loved you then, Y/N, whether you believe me or not. I loved you and I love you still. It may have only been just a few days but I love you so much."

"I do too."

The two of you look at the voice of the God of Hearth who had lean against the entrance way, picking himself up when you meet his gaze and begins to walk your way.

"I loved you before we even met," he says, "loved you from the first moment I was hurting because of the pain that connects us. My flame comes from Earth and the only way it can truly grow strong is if you are safe and warm. I have never felt stronger in my entire lifetime, I have never felt such flame burning in my heart. But even before I knew who you were, I knew I wanted to protect you, to keep you safe, give you a home, give you my hearth."

"There is no ocean vast enough, no ocean deep enough to compare our love." The God of Ocean walks in from another entrance, voice deep and serious.

"There are so many chapters left for us to unfold," says the God of Knowledge. "There are so many more stories to come, for us to explore, for us to learn and understand one another."

"But as we've said before," Seokjin stands beside Jimin, "we have all the time in the universe to get to know one another."

"You do not have to love us now, you do not have to feel the same," Hoseok tells you.

"But just know," Yoongi says, "just know that we love you."

They see the tears in your eyes, how it descends, the way it escapes and trails down your precious cheeks, hanging along your chin before eventually dripping down. You sob as they hold onto you, soft touches to let you know that they are not lying, that everything is true and that they will make it better, they will make it right. If you'd let them, they will stop at nothing just to see that precious smile on your face, to hear your beautiful giggles echoing into the halls and rooms. They will love you like how a man can never love, like a God's immortal love that has no ending even as they may one day lose their immortality.

For years in your life you always wondered whether you will be blessed with another by your side or not, and wondering how it will ever happen. Even before the raid came in, a daughter who only cared for her mother through her times of sickness, never once spending time to look at another in the light of attraction and love. You've only seen your tribe as a family. It was never easy growing up alone after the raid, never easy to know that there was a possibility of you dying alone and the world will have no idea.

Yet they come in like a soft blanket, the exact thing you needed, giving you warmth and closure, providing you food and endless love. You are unsure of how you can ever be enough but they tell you that you need not to trust your own thoughts but to trust theirs instead.

Because they love you and find no faults in your flaws, no fault in you whatsoever. To them you are more than enough, more than the love of the world itself and they will never stop to help you realize that.

So when Jimin holds your face to gently brush away your remaining tears, you thank them through your thoughts. He leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, whispering, "You have no need to thank us from now on. No Gods nor universe can ever stop us for wanting to love you."

Your cheeks blossom with roses at his soft words and you tell him, "I think I'm ready."

He understands.

So the Gods step back to allow you room for the wisteria who stands tall with patience no matter its slow withering. You reach out a little more confidently than before, watching as it joins you in the middle and feel it wrapping its vine around your hand and wrist. You close your eyes, letting it take your love and energy that flows from your body to heal the wisteria. It holds onto you firmly but does not ever hurt you in any way. It is gentle in his taking and you know that the wisteria will give back for the love you are providing it.

Giving you immortality for you to spend all of your life with the Gods who will never fall out of love with you.

When the wisteria unwraps itself from your hand, you know that it is done and let your hand fall back to your side. The eight of you watch as the tree glows of a thousand starlight, blooming to its max capacity with its shade of colors growing stronger than the years before it. Your eyes sparkle as you stare at the celestial tree who gives back light to not just you but your Gods who stands beside you.

You feel full and anew and smile gently when the glowing begins to fade while it remains tall with its blossoming vines.

When your head spins with dizzy and drowsiness, the Gods are right there to hold you. "You must rest now, my dear," the God of Spring whispers to you as your eyes begin to haze and fall closed.

"I'm tired," you say as darkness begins to consume your world. But they are right here beside you to let you know that you are alright. You know you are, this happens when one gives their love and energy to the wisteria, you've seen it in the memories.

"Mmn," you hear the voice again. So soft, so soothing, and your body falls to rest as you are held up into someone's arms. "Rest now, my sweet love."

.

.

.

The birds chirp again, soft and melodic, sweetly singing you a morning lullaby. When you open your eyes and yawn awake, the God of Stars lays right before you while a hand from someone else holds onto you from behind. You look back to find the God of Knowledge who grips you a little more, nose nuzzling against the nape of your neck and letting you give out a soft giggle.

Seokjin brushes your hair from your face as he watches you with a gentle gaze. "Good morning, dear one."

"Good morning," you sigh.

"Have you slept well?" You nod and he can feel your energy through the touch, relieved at the answer before kissing you on your forehead. "The others have yet to wake, it is quite early after all, and they've had a long night." You tilt your head to the side and he answers you before you can ask the question aloud. "No need to worry, sweetheart, we just had to deal with a few things in order to make this place more safer for you."

"Oh." You frown and he can already feel the guilt rushing in. "I'm so sorry."

"No, my dear," Seokjin is quick to say, "you have no need to apologize."

"I-I didn't mean for the dog to go or anyone else, I-I just-"

"You were frightened, my love, and no fear of yours will ever be taken lightly," he tells you as he take ahold of your hand. "You have no need to be sorry for something that is not yours to control. Those wild ones were at fault, it is not in your hands to choose what will frighten you and what will not."

Going through drastic measures just to make sure you are safe and protected, just to make sure you are comfortable at a place that will be your home for the rest of your life. You are touched by their actions, touched by everything they do for you and your eyes begin to tear up. Seokjin smiles softly at the sight of you, understanding what you mean through the touches and goes on to brush away your small tears.

"Come on," he whispers as he takes Taehyung's hand off him to sit up, "I know you have been curious to see my stars."

Oh.

Right, you are.

You grow excited as you gently untangle Namjoon from you and take Seokjin's hand. The two of you giggle as both Taehyung and Namjoon whine for someone to hold in their arms, finding the both of you gone so they reach for one another instead. "Let's go," the God of Stars whispers in your ears and the two of you run off hand in hand as if you are on a little adventure.

You remember the familiar walls into some place you had never actually gone before. The castle is huge after all, but it all comes to you as you look back on the memories that they had shared with you, watching and growing excited as Seokjin himself cannot wait to show you his own room that is filled with stars. You anticipate this moment most of all, knowing exactly where you will go yet also understanding that seeing it in person will be so much more incredible just as you have seen all the other rooms.

He comes to a grand set of golden doors that is designed with wreaths and vines with a star right in the center. "Ready?" He asks and you nod eagerly.

When Seokjin holds a palm between the two doors, it isn't long before it glows brightly and magically opens all on its own. You are met by a portal just on the other side and squeeze the Star God his hand to tell him that you cannot believe you are finally getting to see this. He chuckles at your enthusiasm and the two of you walk right into the portal that transports you onto a platform with the galaxy all around you.

Your heart beats rapidly at the sight of the stars, constellations amongst constellations, stars connecting one another, milky ways, and everything else you do not know the exact names to. Seokjin allows you to run towards the balcony, your body lurching forward as you hold onto the white railing and look down. The small island you are on hovers in the galaxy where the night surrounds it all as if you are floating in the universe.

The Gods only surprises you more and more no matter how much you have seen in their memories.

"This is so beautiful!" You breathe as you close your eyes for a moment to take it all in. "I cannot believe I am soulmates to not just one but seven Gods who holds so much power and have the privilege to see all of your worlds."

Seokjin smile when he walks up to you with a hand rounding your back protectively so that you do not fall from the small island. "We are the most lucky of them all to be able to share our worlds with you." He listens to the beat of your heart as it flutters and loves the way you lean back to curl up along his side. It is still a wonder how he was able to be fated with seven; six Gods and a beautiful mortal. No matter how the world may see it, the God of Stars understands more than anyone that names that have been written in the stars will never fall out of place.

He loves you so much just as he loves the six Gods and when he feels that you've heard his thoughts and feel the heat of your body rising, Seokjin lets you hide your face against his chest, a chuckle escaping him because he knows you must be blushing red. Oh how sweet their little mortal is with a gentle heart that is the most purest of them all.

.

.

.

He watches you from afar, the sight of you in a new day under the bright sun that has become his whole life. The Sun God does not know how such beauty can exist. He has seen it in through the other Gods, always feeling such blessing falling upon him from the first moments he had first met them and even now as he stands years after, he still falls hard for the beauty that befalls each of his soulmates.

And now it is your turn, once just a mortal who now has immortality given by the wisteria. He watches you with a fond gaze as you look out the balcony that leads down to the garden unlike the one in your shared room. You have no idea he is there, your beauty only stunning him further. It almost looks as if you are glowing under the Sun, whom, he knows, has also become fond of you. He has her to thank, for leading him to your mountain, for letting them finally meet you. She has been through your worst days, watched you time and time again as you grew into the person you have become, hoping to give you as much light as she can.

He has read the Sun's thoughts, how she always felt guilty for not being able to give you warmth, but Hoseok knows not to blame her and he knows you would never as well. That is how kind he knows you are, a heart made of gold, and he knows that from now on, the Sun will always watch over you and protect you from anything that will ever dare to do you harm. He smiles graciously at her before returning his gaze to look upon you again.

"My love?"

You jump slightly at his voice but immediately relax when you know that it is Hoseok. You look away from the view to bless him with a sweet smile and he finds his heart fluttering. Oh how Hoseok loves being in love.

"Hello, Hoseok."

He smiles gently when you walk up to him and lean against his soft touches when he holds your face. You are happy right now, so happy, and it makes him proud of how far you have come. "Do you sometimes miss the cold, sweet Y/N?" He asks you, knowing that your whole life you have been surrounded by the winter cold.

You giggle at his question and allows his heart to burst. "Our tribe has always wanted to meet Spring," you tell him as you let him look back on your memories. Your village always speaks of the beautiful season, how they wish that even if it will last just one day, they would take it in a heartbeat. The young children will dream about it, the young adults complaining about how tired they are of the cold, the elderlies knowing they will see it one day when they lay on their death beds.

"And you?" He asks.

"I am happy things are the way they are," you tell him and he sees how you think of your first meeting with them, how frightened you had been at first, but also how relieved you were to find out you would not die that day but to live on and on. "I am so, so happy. After all, I met Spring the moment we met."

He wants to hide the fact that he wishes to kiss you but how can the Sun God ever hide anything from his soulmate? Not especially when the two of you are touching and you both can hear each other's very thoughts. So he slides his hand away from yours, clearing his throat a little awkwardly as he looks away, not before noticing the little blush that has made it onto your cheeks. He knows you are not ready yet and knows it is not the time just yet, understanding that you need a little more time. He will be ready when you are, when you can give yourself to them, not when he wishes for it to just happen.

Because Hoseok is a gentleman. He will not force something upon you and let you know his little wishes to grow closer to you because he does not want you to think that you must do something if he so wishes. He is still a powerful God, knowing fully well how you see yourself below his level and may sometimes feel self conscious because they are so high and mighty. He doesn't want you to feel as if you are obligated to reciprocate his wishes so he lets out a sigh.

"Forgive me, little one, I did not mean-"

You take his hand again to rest his palm right against your cheek and his eyes widen at the blush on your face and the understanding of what it is you are too shy to speak aloud of, feelings hidden inside, something only he and the rest can read.

You wish to kiss him as well, to feel his soft lips against yours, to understand what it is like to kiss for the first time, to kiss a God.

"My love," he worries, "you do not have to-"

"I understand, Hoseok," you've read his worries but still you are determined to do this, to let him know that it is not because he wishes to kiss you but the fact that you want this all on your own. You wish to kiss him. "Please?" You ask and he does not know how anyone can say no to those precious eyes of yours that looks up at him, reflecting that of a puppy.

He feels a slight shift in you and realizes right, you are not fond of the animal. "Forgive me." You shake your head in response to him, smiling to let him understand that you know he means well.

So the God of Sun beams softly. You are ready for him when he holds you with both hands, heart drumming hard against your chest with rosy cheeks adorning your face to let him know that you are also nervous. Nervous but excited. He leans in to rest his forehead against yours, breaths gently grazing against one another, and you close your eyes. He watches you through a hooded gaze before his eyes flutter shut the instant his lips meet yours in a gentle, gentle kiss.

Your lips are softer than what he has imagined them to be, softer and sweeter than any dreams that have invaded his mind. You sigh against his lips and he holds you a little more firm, the euphoric feeling both bursting within your bodies. Hoseok is used to this feeling as he is reminded of the countless times he has kissed his other soulmates.

But for you this is your first time, your first kiss, and the first time kissing another who was born to be yours from the beginning of time. Your head spins and when he pulls away, you are standing almost limping against his hold, feeling so breathless as you try to catch your breath.

"I should have gone easy on you," he worries but you shake your head, cheeks still caught aflame as you look up at him with glistening lips. You liked it, you tell him from your thoughts as you tiptoe up to press a little peck on his cheek. Hoseok chuckles as he feels his stomach bursting with butterflies.

But as much as he wants to swoop you up and carry you to the bedroom, his eyes catches the Sun behind you and frowns. He hasn't gotten more time to spend with you and when you hear his thoughts, you let him go gently. But he knows you are feeling a little sad knowing he has to leave right now so Hoseok gives you a small smile with a hand stroking your cheek. "I will be back in no time, alright?" He promises. Your cheeks never cools down, making him chuckle when you nod at him shyly. "Wait for me."

"Mmn."

When he disappears to transport himself elsewhere, your thoughts are in shambles as you walk back slowly to the bedroom. It takes a while with how slow you are going as you try not to think back on the kiss but how can you not?

Once you make it into the room again, the door closes behind you as you lean your back into it, eyes still widened, cheeks still red, and a finger comes up to press against your lips. You kissed him, you kissed Hoseok. Well, he kissed you but same thing. He gave you the first kiss you had once dreamt of, never knowing exactly whether you would ever receive such a delicate touch and now here you are in a palace made for your Gods, a life for you to live in forever.

"Love?"

You gasp at the sound, not realizing someone was in the bedroom but when you look up, it isn't just the God of Knowledge. Yoongi has joined him on the bed as well and you blush some more, embarrassed for the fact that they have seen you thinking back on your kiss with Hoseok.

You don't know what to do as they look at you quizzically and knowing how bad it will be if they were to stand up and come your way. Ever since you've met them you never minded being able to share thoughts with just simple touches, but now? Now you really understand how intimate this soulmate thing really is and you aren't sure whether it is a good thing at this moment.

"Are you alright?" The God of Music calls and you are quick to shake your head vehemently to rid of the thoughts.

"Y-yeah." If your face doesn't give it away then it would be the shaking of your voice. Gosh you wish you could easily hide your feelings without someone being able to read it so easily with how it is written on your face. When you look up at them, your eyes instantly falls to their lips and you don't know how you will ever survive this.

Perhaps it would be easier if Hoseok was here to explain things, perhaps then you wouldn't find yourself so pressed to the doors and shrink back timidly as Namjoon and Yoongi leave the bed to walk up to you.

"Do you have a fever?" Namjoon frowns and his hand goes to fall against your forehead before you can stop him.

Oh crap.

"Oh." His eyes dilates when the touch allows him to read your thoughts and Namjoon sees the vision of you and Hoseok kissing just moments ago. Yoongi watches the two of you in confusion, how the corner of Namjoon's lips begin to curl and the way your face refuses to cool. So he touches your face out of curiosity and chuckles when he understands.

"Why are you embarrassed, hm?" The God of Music queries. "We are lovers, after all, kissing is just a sign of declaration."

Oh how you wish someone could just bury you alive. But of course the Gods were never going to allow that, but they understand what you mean. "I-It isn't just that," you say and when your thoughts are given to them, the two of them grins.

"Ah," says the God of Knowledge, "you wish to kiss us as well."

He didn't have to say that out loud.

They chuckle amusingly before Yoongi falls a little more serious as he brush your hair to the side. "My love," he calls, "you have no need to shy away. We are lovers now, soulmates, and if there is anything that you wish to do, it is alright for you to think such thoughts. Sleep with us, bathe with us, kissing us." You wonder how he has such bravery to say such things but is reminded all over again that they've done it all, done everything together. Images of them fill your memories and it makes your heart drum louder against your chest.

"I.." you trail off, eyes falling away from his out of embarrassment, "I-I know."

"Will you look at me?" He asks of you. You hesitate, of course you do, but Yoongi remains patient as he waits for your head to lift up and finally meet his gaze again. When you do just that, he gives you his precious gummy smile. "Look at you," the Music God praises, "I am so proud of you, dear one." He leans down to press a kiss on your cheeks, lifts his head a bit to kiss you on the forehead before his lips trail down, following the line between your brows and down to the tip of your nose.

"It's alright," Namjoon coaxes as he falls at your side, peppering soft kissing upon your shoulder.

You do not mind it so they go further. Namjoon continues his ministrations while Yoongi's lips hover above yours. When you give no refusal, he captures your lips and your heart grows rapidly against your chest. Soft lips nibble upon yours with gently wet sounds as he changes the angle and your mind becomes so hazy. Your fingers cling onto his royal robe, clutching it tightly as a small whimper falls from your lips.

When Yoongi falls away, Namjoon replaces his position. Your heart swoons, tummy filled with dancing butterflies all around, with thoughts filled with just them and them alone. His lips are sweet and gentle against yours, pressing upon them in a manner that has your head spinning all over again.

The moment they both finally release you, you fall against Namjoon's chest who holds you up because you have no strength to do so. One day you will get used to this strong burst of emotions, to the soulmate bond, but right now your eyes droop as you lean against Namjoon's hold who walks to the bed to lay you down gently. "It's okay," he whispers to you when Yoongi falls to your other side. They hold you gently, arms wrapped around your body. "Sleep now, my sweet dove."

You love them and they hear it but you want to say it aloud. Yet your sleepy brain does not let you utter a sound, too tired to even open your lips to mouth it. But they know and that is all you need for now.

You can tell them tomorrow.

.

.

.

"Jin?"

"Yes, love?"

"Do you...know?"

He doesn't have to read your mind to know what you mean by that. All the Star God has to do is look at the blooming pink rose adorning your cheeks to understand it all. He chuckles at the pretty sight and nods. "Of course."

Right, of course, meaning that the other Gods know as well. You avoid his eyes for your head to point towards the floor, fingers playing with one another as you gulp, trying to pick up the courage to ask him something else. Seokjin remains patient from where he stands, watching the stars as he always does, watching over everything. You aren't even sure if it is right to bother him with this but he has told you plenty of times that you are never a bother to him. If you wish to ask him things, he only encourages you to speak up.

"Why does..why does the soulmate bond, um..." you try to find the right words. Perhaps he will understand better if he touches you but you feel you are already bothering him enough. "Why does it feel..um...overwhelming?" Is that the right word? "Is it for the reason that we are made of eight souls and not two?"

The God of Stars hum. "That is part of it, yes," he tells you. "Soulmate bonds are very powerful, my sweet, so it only grows stronger when it is declared through intimacy. When there is more than one partner, the bond is even stronger than that of two souls because this is not common amongst lovers to love more than one, especially being able to share that love equally. The world happens for a reason, many grows jealous for our love, many despise us for how strong this bond makes us. And because of how powerful it makes us, there is a little drawback to how much energy it can give."

"That's why...that's why..-" you clear your throat and he grins at how shy you can be just saying the word, "that's why, kissing..u-um...that's why it makes me so tired?"

He chuckles. "Precisely."

"Oh." You frown slightly. "I can't imagine how it will be when we—" You gasp, catching yourself almost immediately as you fold your hands over your mouth and Seokjin turns his gaze from the stars to look at you with amusement. There is no mockery in his gaze, however, just pure fondness that makes your heart skip a beat because even though he does not say it and even though you are not reading his mind, his gaze alone lets you know that he truly loves you.

You cannot believe you have been so blessed to be given these Gods as your soulmates. Everyone dreams of a love such as this, to have another watching them with pure fondness and amazement, with a pure love. For them to feel safe and protected. For them to know where home lies the second they meet eyes with their fated ones.

Your God walks on over to you with slow steps, eyes never leaving yours as you look up to him when he holds a hand up to stroke your soft cheeks. "You will be alright when that happens," he whispers.

You don't know how he can say that so casually but then again, you aren't his first time and you aren't the only soulmate he has. There are six more, six wonderful Gods who loves you just as much as they love one another.

"Will I?"

Seokjin nods, humming. "We will take care of you, my love. Will you trust us when the time comes?"

To make love. Gosh you cannot think about it without being a blushing mess so you stumble back from his touch, embarrassed to let him read your thoughts because with him being so close to you, it only makes things more dangerous for the good of your heart. It beats rapidly against your chest and you are quick to turn, knowing you cannot look at him straight in the eyes when you are like this. One day you will have to come face this bravely but one day is not here yet and you still cannot even speak right with just the word kiss.

So you awkwardly clear your throat as he watches you nod from the back. "Y-yes," you stutter, "I will trust you then. But..but, um...I-I'm already a bother so you..you should, should get back to your stars. Goodbye."

You can hear him letting out a soft chuckle when you run back into the portal to transport back to the castle.

.

.

.

"Ah, there you are."

You turn at the voice with a hand pressed onto the floor and a head looking over your shoulder to find the God of Ocean and Hearth walking into the room of the wisteria. You gift them a smile as they walk closer, wondering why they have been looking for you.

"There is a banquet tomorrow evening, will you join us to meet the other Gods and Goddesses?" Jungkook asks and your eyes widen a little at the invitation.

"A banquet?" You echo.

He hums. "Everyone knows we have found our last soulmate and are very intrigued on why we have been keeping you hidden in the palace."

"There have been a few banquets prior to your arrival here but we know you hadn't felt too comfortable leaving the grounds just yet," Taehyung says. "And besides, we wanted you to get used to this life first and get used to us. Gods can be quite invading and we were too protective of you to just let you go while you had yet to know of everything."

You giggle softly at the God of Ocean's words. "You were afraid of me wanting to live elsewhere and not here with you?" You interpret and they pout cutely when you caught them. You shake your head lightly as you grin. "That will never happen. You are the ones who saved me after all. Soulmates or nor, I would have stayed with you."

"Well that's relieving," Jungkook chuckles as he scratch the back of his head. "So will you join us? We have no need to go if you are not comfortable, we can just stay here if you'd like."

You shake your head again. "I would love to go."

Their faces brightens with soft smiles before the God of Ocean takes a hand out to offer to you. "Supper is served," he says. You reach out to take his hand but stop in midair as you realize what that means, suddenly retracing sheepishly because right now you cannot afford any of them to hear your thoughts just yet. It is all over the place and you absolutely cannot let Taehyung hear this. His smile falters when he puts his hand back at his side at your rejection and you are quick to jump onto your feet.

"I-I did not mean it in that way, I promise!" You declare. "I just...um..-"

"I understand," he tells you otherwise with a small smile that does not hide his moment of hurt. "It's okay, little one. Come on, the rest are waiting."

As you follow them from behind, your hands tug at your dress uncomfortably, suddenly feeling bad for letting him misunderstand you in this way. Taehyung thinks you've rejected him and when Jungkook shoots you a small smile just the same, you know you've messed up. After all, they know you've kissed three of their hyungs and maybe, perhaps, very likely, they were hoping you were ready to kiss them as well.

But now you've only made things worse because you wouldn't allow them to read your thoughts that is filled with everything about them, just them. You can't just reach for his hand to make him feel better because then he will be able to read your thoughts and right now you cannot let him do so. Not yet.

Oh how you wish you were braver.

Dinner goes smoothly...you think. But it is when you are left alone to your thoughts in the bath do you not feel so great again.

It isn't right for you to be so silent when they have declared their love to you plentifully. You know you've told Namjoon and Yoongi but that was all in your head. You haven't said it aloud and the rest of them haven't heard it said to them yet. So perhaps that is why Taehyung and Jungkook had been a little more hurt by your rejection, believing you love only two of the Gods and not everyone.

But that is so untrue yet you aren't sure how to do it, if you are brave enough to do it. But then again, you ask yourself why aren't you brave enough? They have declared their love for you, showed you how much they care, always looking out for you and doing what is best to keep you safe and warm. What is it that you have to be frightened of? They love you and you love them and you know that soulmates written under the stars shall never break apart even through death.

So why are you not brave enough? Why must you keep silent and hurt them further? Making them believe you love some of them more than the rest?

It is untrue and you have to let them know, you have to let them understand. But as much as you want to hide with the fact that they can easily read your thoughts to understand it all, even though you know that will be so much easier, you also know that it will be best to say it aloud first, to declare it aloud before you let them see into your heart. You have to tell them first before you let your heart tell them the details of it.

When you step out of the bath and wrap yourself in a white robe, your eyes fall at the evening robe that hangs on a hook and the long mirror that lets you see yourself. You watch those eyes looking back at you, fingers falling upon your wet hair, tracing the outline of your face, your brows, your eyes, nose and lips.

And it makes you wonder why they love you.

They are Gods, such powerful Gods, possibly the most powerful Gods to ever exist all due to the soulmate bonds that keeps them connected. Your hand strokes your soft cheeks, lips staying pressed together with brows that creases just a bit. You are loved by seven Gods and here you are, now an immortal yourself, still trying to get the courage to speak your heart aloud.

It should not be this hard, right?

Maybe if you hadn't been forced to grow up so alone then perhaps things could have gone a lot easier. But as Seokjin had said before, the world happens for a reason. Your tribe being attacked, you being left to live alone for ten years, saved by these precious seven souls, and now loved by them all all because you are you. A kind, sweet soul who cares so much about the world.

Perhaps you indeed deserve such a love, perhaps you indeed deserved to live on.

Their love lets you reflect on everything and the longer you look at yourself, you begin to see tears brimming along your waterline as your heart cries for how much they have given you. They've showed you that you deserve anything and everything and now you must pick up the courage to let them know that you appreciate everything and has fallen so hard. You know it must not be easy for them either but they've always been so strong for you, keeping you safe, loving you when you had yet to accept the new life and know that you deserve such wonderful things.

They've done so much for you and you know you cannot let them think that one is more than the other. You have to let them know.

"Y/N?" You turn at the call of Jimin's concerning voice and gasp at the sudden intrusion.

Oh.

They've heard you crying and now here they are again, always trying to make sure that you are alright. Knowing this, more tears well up and falls away before you can stop them, making your heart ache a little more. Their brows knit together, eyes filled with worry at the sight and they try rushing to you but you step back with hands held up to stop them. "W-wait!" You cannot allow them to touch you.

Not yet. Not just yet.

Questions fall upon their faces and you close your eyes, letting a few tears fall freely, taking in a deep breath before releasing it shakily. When you open your eyes again, your lips curl into a soft, soft smile that confuses them even more. They think that perhaps you are trying to let them go, a pain shooting at their hearts, but when you open your mouth to speak, the tightness in their chest releases.

"I love you," you say. "I love you all so much and I just wanted to thank you," you wipe a tear away though more falls and you sniff, "for loving me while I was still at a loss and couldn't understand why." The lump in your throat tries to hinder you from speaking but you swallow it to push through. "I love you for all that you've done, being patient with me, keeping me safe, always thinking of me and doing all that is best for me. I am still so, so shy, and I'm not sure if I will ever find the courage to say these things out aloud again but just know, just know that as you are holding me and reading my thoughts, know that I will always be wishing to say everything out aloud.

"I'm sorry for not being able to say this before. I'm so, so sorry if I ever caused any misinformation to let you to believe I was rejecting you by not allowing you to touch me. Truth is I was just afraid to let my heart speak before I could do it myself. Because I know that the heart understands the inner conflicted feelings before I myself can say anything out loud. And I was scared because I didn't know whether I truly deserve this or not, whether I truly deserve your love. But I understand. I understand that soulmates that have been written in the stars shall never fall, I understand that, that our love is meant to be. I'm so sorry I've just realized it. I'm sorry."

"Oh, love." Jimin wipes his own tears away as they come to surround you. "My sweet one, you have no need to apologize."

"You've just been so patient and, and I..-"

"We know," Yoongi promises. "We know so hush, it's okay. You're alright now."

Jungkook cradles your head as Taehyung brushes your tears away. Seokjin holds your face and you feel a rush of the wind at your sides, drying your hair and replacing your bathrobe with the evening gown.

"We are so proud of you," Namjoon vows. "It is never easy to speak your feelings aloud but it's okay now. We understand, dear one, we know."

"I love you," you declare again, sniffling, and they smile, smile so softly.

"Oh, love. We love you so, so much. We love you more than the universe itself."

.

.

.

When they hear the familiar footsteps of the last soulmate to meet them by the entrance door of the castle, their heads turn your way for the world to slow down and fall away, nothing else falling into their line of vision except you as you walk down gracefully with a sheepish smile their way.

The dress you have on is a soft color in golden champagne, flowing freely down to the floor as it drags when you walk, decorated with shimmering golden vines that curls all around the dress. Soft pink roses connect together at the waist of your dress and falls atop your shoulder where the lace cape drags down your back. You also have on a beautiful crown designed in pink florals and golden butterflies, matching all that you are wearing. They do not know how you can impress them even further and show that your beauty comes different with certain occasions; when you wake up, the moment after you bathe, the night before you head to sleep, your casual dresses when you walk around the castle, and now here for a banquet.

You are ethereal, more beautiful than anyone they have seen before and their hearts beats rapidly just knowing that you are theirs.

Everything about you is beautiful and they already know for sure how some of the Goddesses will grow jealous of this beauty of yours once they set eyes on you, and how the other Gods may try to catch your attention. They shake their heads at the images, mentally scoffing and rolling their eyes because you are theirs, you belong to them just as they belong to you.

"Wow," your eyes dilate at the sight of them and a little soft pink reaches your cheeks before you avert your gaze to the floor shyly. "You are handsome," you tell them and their hearts swoon.

"And you are more beautiful than Spring itself," Jimin says as he holds your chin for you to look up. You smile sheepishly at him and he chuckles, taking your hand into his. "Are you ready?"

When you arrive at the banquet, you stick to their sides, never releasing your hands that holds onto Jimin's arm because everything becomes unfamiliar and it is not the same garden you are used to back at the palace.

This one is large and gorgeous but it can never compare to the one the God of Spring has made on his own. Pretty flowers round the stoned paths in roses, pansies, lilies, and many more. The lampposts that station around the garden are wrapped in green vines that curls all the way to the tip, and pretty fairy lights shine everyone's paths. You look around like a curious little kitten, blinking surprised at all that surrounds you. The realm of the immortals is definitely more beautiful than Earth can ever be.

Ah, but then again, you've only been in one place and that would be your mountain and the snowy grounds that surrounds it. Yet you are sure Earth is still less beautiful.

Beside you, Jimin laughs softly as he's read your thoughts and you are reminded all over again that soulmates are given such ability, making you giggle yourself.

"So this must be your last soulmate." You shrink into Jimin's hold as you are met by a Goddess who smiles so beautifully your way. She is gorgeous and you find yourself shying away at her stare. "Oh she is so cute," the Goddess practically squeal when she coos, making your cheeks catch aflame and allowing your Gods to chuckle.

"She is, isn't she?" Hoseok beams proudly as he pets your head.

"Tell me, how in the world did you all manage to find yourselves another beauty?"

Catching the sight of the familiar seven Gods, more comes on by upon hearing the Goddess going on about you, curiosity filling their minds and you shrink further back at the sudden attention. Many comments upon your pure, gentle soul who looks too cute and beautiful for anything and it makes you even more flustered by everyone. Eventually (and thankfully) the crowd falls away when your Gods ask them to give you space and not horde around you. They do not say it allowed but you can feel their protective selves becoming more visible and you giggle, allowing Taehyung to playfully pinch your nose because he is not particularly fond of you calling them cute when they feel such way.

You are theirs after all, and no one should continue looking at you for much longer than a few minutes. You should be only for their eyes to see especially when you look particularly beautiful tonight. Perhaps you like this side to them, and when they hear your thoughts, it is your turn to huff and shy away all over again, making them laugh aloud.

After moments of walking around to personally meet a few Gods and Goddesses along your soulmates' sides, you are left alone to freely explore on your own. The curious side to you walks around to make little conversations with a few immortals on your own though you are still a little shy when it comes to talking to strangers.

You walk around the maze garden that falls a bit deserted while everyone mingles around the large center. You follow the fireflies that blinks like little flashlights, feet bouncing lightly as it trails away from the brightness of the garden banquet. Your dress trails behind you as you stray away from the center, running from right to left with just the fireflies as your source of light, getting yourself lost in the maze. But you know that you will be alright. After all, if your Gods need you, they can easily find you with no difficulties.

"Hello there."

Your breath hitches, jumping at the sudden sound because you hadn't expected anyone else to stray from the garden and walk in the maze. When you turn to the source of the voice, it is the sight of a God you think you have seen before while reading some of Namjoon's books. It must be the God of the Underworld, Hades. He watches you with a sly smile that falls lopsided against his lips, body leaned against a hedge before standing straight to approach you with light steps.

"I have never seen you before," he says, voice deep as a brow raises before snapping his fingers as if he's just realized something. "You must be their last soulmate then. Y/N."

It is a bit surprising even the God of the Underworld knows of you but you decide to pay it no mind, only nodding as you hope your voice does not come out too cowardly. "Yes, I am."

It doesn't work because Hades chuckles knowingly. "You have no need to fear me," he tells you but it isn't really him you become so frightful of. No, your eyes only dilates as your breath is caught up in your throat when you watch in horror at the sight of the animal that walks up from behind him. Hades' brows furrow as he falls at a loss at your trembling figure and the way your body turns from him, hands clasped around your lips while your eyes shut tight.

Cerberus. Three headed dog.

You are too frightened to scream. One because you do not wish to disturb the peacefulness of the evening banquet and two because you can't. Tears brim along your eyes while you try to hide the whimper that begins to fall from your lips behind your hands. But it doesn't really help. Hades can hear it muffled out of you.

He has no idea what you are frightened of. Surely he isn't that scary, is he? "Is something the matter?"

"P...please get it...g-get it..a..away."

A laugh falls from him as he realizes what is happening. "You're afraid of dogs? I knew mortals were quite weak but I had no idea they were this weak."

Someone wraps their arms around you, pulling you in close to their chest and you don't have to look up to know who it must be just by their scent and the touch alone. "Leave, Hades," the God of Stars command in a grave voice as Jungkook silently tells you that all will be alright, that they are here now and you have nothing to be afraid of anymore. But you can still feel the presence of the dog and it only reminds you of the cruel memories that has terrorized you plenty of times. Jungkook understands, of course he does, because no matter how connected you are with the Gods, the God of Hearth shares something a little deeper as his hearth comes from Earth.

So a hand comes behind your head as the other remains on your back, his touches whispering soft gentle words to soothe your pain and comfort you through the memories.

"This is a banquet, is it not?" You hear Hades saying and through the feeling of Jungkook's protective and caring self, anger burns his body so immensely you are surprised this is him. You're used to your Gods being so kind and gentle, never have you actually ever witnessed their angry sides.

"I will not repeat myself, Hades." You do not have to touch Namjoon to understand his anger as well. They are all angry as you hear growls from the back of their throats all hinted towards Hades who does not fall back even when asked to. The pride within him restricts him from doing as he is told even though the God of the Underworld knows he cannot go up against the seven Gods who are the most powerful especially when together. Your Gods are fuming with wrath, not fond of anyone threatening their soulmate's safety which in this case would be you and you can hear the thoughts of Jungkook as he holds you, knowing he will burn the whole garden down if it means Hades will leave.

But their anger towards the God of the Underworld elicits growling from his loyal dog who does not like anyone trying to go up against his Lord and it makes you whimper, body shrinking more towards Jungkook who hears your thoughts.

You don't care about Hades or anything anymore, you just wish to go home. So he lets out a sigh though he is still riled with anger and turns to the God of Knowledge. "Let's go, Namjoon."

You feel their eyes turning to you at those words before sighs leave their own lips and you are brought back not a moment too soon.

"We're home now, little one. You're alright now."

But you don't leave Jungkook's arms, still so, so afraid because the horrible memories of that Winter day will not go away despite Cerberus now nowhere to be seen. His eyes fall with pain and worry as he holds you, meeting the Gods with an understanding gaze and just letting you cry it all out. Your heart hurts, body still trembling, and when you feel you cannot hold your body up for much longer, Jungkook picks you up to walk on over to the bed and have you sitting right on his lap.

"Shh, it's okay, my love, it's okay." He continues whispering soft words to your ears, rocking your body gently against him while pressing soft kisses upon your head. The others come to surround you, hands holding yours, pressing kisses upon your shoulders while you sob and sob.

"You're okay, you're alright. Everything will be alright. We're right here. We'll always be here."

"..Scary..." You whimper.

"I know, I know. We'll make it all okay again, alright? You have no need to be afraid anymore."

"We'll always be here. We'll protect you from all that threatens to harm you."

"You're our precious mate and we will never let anything happen to you again."

"We'll make it better."

.

.

.

You awake at the feeling of gentle fingertips running along your face, stroking it with soft touches, and small incoherent whispers beside you. They fall into a comfortable silence when they feel your mind drifting out of unconsciousness. Once your eyes finally releases from the haze, you see both the God of Ocean and Spring looking down at you as they prop themselves up against their elbows.

"Good morning," Taehyung greets with a gentle smile.

"We are here, love," Jimin says when your mind is reminded of the nightmare you had before, blurring your vision and feeling so thankful that they are here right now. The God of Spring leans down to press a soft kiss to your head and almost instantly you feel your tense body relaxing once more, mind now clear of anything that would harm you.

"Thank you," you whisper, voice still trying to adjust to the waking world. He nods at you and you feel another kiss placed upon your temple. Taehyung brushes away the tear that fell when you blinked and kiss the fingertip that held onto the salty water droplet.

"Feeling better?" You nod and he smiles, relieved. Your brows knit just slightly when you realize no one else is in bed because you do not feel anymore presence to fill up the empty spaces. Usually when you have woken, all of your Gods would still be around before breakfast is served and they'll run off to their own duties. The God of Ocean hears your thoughts and returns to stroking your soft cheek. "You slept in this morning, my love. It is almost noon," he explains. "We have agreed on two of us staying here until you awake so that you would not have to be greeted by the emptiness of the room."

"Oh," you frown. "I'm sorry."

Jimin shakes his head. "No need, my little flower, you had a rough night after all. Now come," he helps you sit up as Taehyung uses his powers to wheel a tray of food forward, "you must be hungry."

There are plates of fresh toast and sweet biscuits along with two eggs, a cup of milk, and a bowl of sliced fruits set onto the tray that is placed onto your lap. Your two Gods do not allow you to use your energy as they feed you on their own, letting you bite slowly and taking your sweet time. It comes to no surprise that the food is delicious because everything you you've had will always be the best. This is the house of Gods after all, and they will have nothing fall below standard.

When you grow full, they let you run off to the bathroom to get ready for the new day though help you with brushing your hair. You sit in between them on the bed as Taehyung runs a brush through your soft hair and face Jimin who plays with the soft delicate touches of your fingers. You see his subtle smile when the God of Spring stares at them, his thoughts echoing to you with nothing kept a secret. It is odd to him how small you are, hands a tinier size than his despite how small his is compared to the rest of the Gods and especially the one behind you who has the largest of them all.

Everyone's hands engulfs his and yours and he is proud to be able to engulf your own. You giggle as his thoughts passes onto you and Jimin looks up, grinning sweetly. "Little rose, I have heard the mortals spreading myths of how the size of how hands reflects the size of our hearts but I say that is preposterous."

Taehyung laughs. "I say the myth is fair."

"Fair?" Jimin scoffs. "That's only because your hands are ginormous."

"And so is my heart," he hums.

"Maybe so but look at us," the God of Spring clasp your hands together and holds it up for the God of Ocean to see, "our hands may be small but our hearts are much bigger than it."

"Hmm...perhaps you're right."

"Perhaps?" Jimin echoes, scoffing again and this time with huff. "My heart is big and you know it."

Taehyung shakes with a choral of laughter before he releases the brush to sit it on the soft mattress and reaches for Jimin's hands that had fallen out of yours. "Love, you know I was only playing." With you in between, the God of Ocean pulls Jimin forward just slightly so that when he leans in, his lips can meet Jimin's cheek.

"You missed." The God of Spring still feigns to be upset so Taehyung chuckles at his lover, leaning in again to capture Jimin's lips.

Your heart skips a beat and perhaps they hear it, perhaps they feel it because their kiss does not last long and now their heads are turned your way. You grow petals pink after being caught and the two of them looks at one another with a sly grin curling at their lips before they return the attention on you again. You swallow, heart beating hard against your chest as your eyes fall away shakily because you know they can hear your thoughts.

"Hmm..does the little one want a kiss too?"

You shrink at the question, feeling your face heating up even more because they know, they can hear your thoughts yet Jimin asks that.

"I want to hear you, little one," the God explains. "After all, you said it yourself, did you not? Your heart understands what you want before you can try to say anything out loud."

Taehyung hums. "And that whatever is said in your heart, you want to say them all out loud but you are far too shy."

"Can we hear it, love?" He holds your chin and lifts it easily, lips curled upward to a side as he looks down at you and your heart only burns some more. His thumb delicately traces along your lips as Taehyung's fingers gathers your hair to put it a side so that your neck is exposed for him to softly graze against. Jimin leans in at your distracted mind filled of both him and the Ocean God, forehead resting against yours with his nose just centimeters away from yours, breath hitting you as he speaks. "Hm, love? Can you do us this little favor?" He smells like soft petals and peaches perfectly combined. "I want to hear your sweet voice."

You hesitate but you can never take your eyes off him no matter how bold Jimin's gaze is, feeling the need to just give him all that he wants. He grins knowingly at your thoughts, feeling his ego boosted and your eyes fall away shyly again. He pouts and you almost want to giggle at how desperate he is for your attention so you give it to him again, cheeks still flushed. "I..." You gulp, brows furrowed and not knowing whether you are brave enough but their touches encourages you on, telling you to go on, that they'll take care of you. So you let out a soft sigh. "Jimin.."

He's excited. "Hm?"

You look away for a brief moment before meeting his eyes again. "Can you..can you kiss me?"

Jimin's heart flutters as he grins brilliantly. Oh, what a sweet little soul, he thinks. "With pleasure."

When he captures your lips, it is so soft and delicate. Jimin's hand wraps around your waist as he pulls you in towards him closer as if you are not close enough, lips dancing with yours as he effortlessly takes the lead. Taehyung's fingers circles your neck and down your exposed collarbones and you are sent to heaven, an eternal bliss, a mind that is filled of them and just them. Jimin kisses you like you are a precious gem, like you are so fragile and he cannot bear to break you.

When his lips pull away, another hand comes to your face to turn you and your lips are captured by another, barely given any time to take a breather. "Mm...so sweet," Taehyung whispers against your lips and you feel Jimin's hands flicking your hair down back behind your neck again. He peppers kisses to your neck and you make a little sound into Taehyung's lips. It all feels so sweet and blissful but the familiar overwhelming feeling returns and your head spins.

When the God of Ocean leans away, he chuckles at the way your strength had left you and holds you up to have your body resting against his chest instead of falling back onto the mattress. "Dizzy?" Jimin observes after leaving your neck, his fingers coming up to brush your hair behind your ears. You nod weakly. "Don't worry love, the more these moments happen, the dizziness will no longer return and you'll come to embrace this overwhelming feeling."

"That's not fair, you already tired her out before I could get a chance." When another voice comes in, the three of you look up to find the God of Hearth near the doors as he tsks lightly, arms crossed against his chest while he pouts cutely.

Taehyung laughs. "You are to blame for not taking up the chance to remain here with our little love."

Jungkook huffs. "I had business down on Earth."

"You went to Earth?" Your brows raise, mouth forming into a little 'o.'

He nods as he walks forward to reach the bed. "I go there pretty often. The Earth needs my hearth after all, but I am usually disguised as a mortal."

"Where do you usually go?"

He sits in front of you while you're still using Taehyung for support and he takes a hand, smiling as he greets it with a kiss on the back. "The north and southern poles or anyplace near it." He pauses for a second before speaking again. "You know, I have not found any other hidden tribes who resides on mountains."

"We had a sister tribe," you tell him and he sees through your memories of the stories the elders would go on and go about back when you lived on the mountain. "I assume they were possibly raided as well and no one survived. Perhaps the snow buried their homes."

"Mortals can be quite cruel," Jimin sighs.

"But it's okay," Taehyung says as he plays with your hair, "Hoseok and Seokjin has condemned the murderers."

"Right."

"How are you feeling, my love?" Jungkook asks as he looks at you with some concern. He isn't just asking about the aftermath of the soulmate bond but of the night before as well, wanting to know if you really are alright again. They're still so protective of you, hating any pain and affliction to fall upon you and would do anything just to relieve you from them. You are reminded of that moment at the garden and your eyes fall to the hands that holds your own. "What is it?"

"You are all so sweet and kind," you say, squeezing his hand as you turn to look at Jimin and Taehyung before returning your gaze to the one before you, "and after last night, I know I would never want to get on your angry sides. It was scary."

They chuckle, knowing you mean well and Jungkook holds your palm up to press a kiss there. "You will never have to fear of our wrath pointing your way," the God of Hearth vows. "How can we ever get upset with you? You are our lovely little flower."

"The seven of us alone does not fight very often," Jimin says. "After all, we are soulmates, we're all soulmates, so we understand each other more than anything and anyone. There is no reason to hold secrets, no reason for misunderstandings to ignite."

You are reminded of that moment back at the wisteria, refusing to let Taehyung hold you and allowing him to look and feel hurt. The God takes your hands from Jungkook and presses a gentle kiss to your head after hearing your thoughts. "Moments like that can happen, though," he tells you and lets you see the memories of that time he and Yoongi almost went to bed upset and hurt. They of course resolved the problem in the end before anything could get worse. "As long as we communicate, love, there is no need for anyone to lose their temper."

"Okay."

He hum. "Okay?"

You nod as you look up at him with a loving gaze before it falls and you're looking back at Jungkook. The dizziness has gone away and your mind isn't so hazy in blindness anymore. You'll get used to this, you know you will. After all, kissing them is rewarding and quite lovely so you'd be glad to getting used to the strong soulmate bond. The God of Spring and Ocean chuckles knowingly at your thoughts, leaving Jungkook in question when you look down with a blooming blush because he isn't touching you.

The God of Hearth doesn't go on to touch you though, because he feels you will tell him if you want or place your own hands on his skin. The moment lasts a few long seconds more before you're letting out a sigh and deciding to be brave about it. You want to kiss the youngest one of the Gods so you will and you can feel Jimin and Taehyung both waiting with anticipation and excitement.

"Kook...?"

"Hm?"

"May I?" You ask. His brows furrow with confusion and he's about to reach up to touch you but you hold your palm up to stop him, causing him to blink but place his hand back onto his lap, respecting your wishes.

"Go on," he tells you though is unsure of what you mean.

You take a deep breath again, hearing the two Gods beside you silently cheering you on as you step up to your knees and watching Jungkook with an intense gaze. He waits, anticipating what will happen, when you place your hands on his shoulders and lean in to press a quick peck right on his lips.

His eyes widen at the sudden and unexpected kiss that was honestly way too quick to him to truly enjoy. So he chuckles at the way your cheeks roses even more because you are so shy and he's proud of you taking that courage to take the first step on telling him what you want without him needing to touch you. He hears your thoughts now, ones that whispers soft i love you's to him and Jungkook's eyes crinkle as he shows you that boyish smile. He puts his hands on both sides of your waist and pull you onto his lap, lips pecking right upon your own.

You're beet red and he laughs, pressing another quick kiss before he leans in again for it to last longer. His kisses are playful and sweet and it makes you chuckle out sweet giggles that echoes into the large room, sounding like music to their ears as it mixes with the smacking sounds of kisses and your Gods' soft laughs.

Your morning that day is filled with the soft ringing of laughter echoing into the room with the wind carrying it out the open windows that leads to the balcony.

.

.

.

The garden is even more beautiful than the one you had seen at the banquet, walking down a lone path under the starry night skies. You cannot sleep that night but your thoughts are filled with only pleasant thoughts. The purple blossoms that follows the path you walk on is divine, a type of flower you know must not exist on Earth with how ethereal it looks. It glows only at night, light sparkles glittering and falling out into the skies from the center of its petals. You close your eyes, welcoming the night breeze as it passes along your side, thankful for the fact that one of your soulmate is the God of Spring.

The stars above shines brightly, creating a blooming milky way that is entirely different from the view on Earth. How did you fall so lucky to be written under the stars with wonderful Gods whose hearts are made of gold? You are so lucky to be blessed with loving Gods who will not hesitate to do anything for you.

"It isn't fair, you know." You jump a little at the sound and turn to find the God of Stars standing a few feet away as he leans against a pillar with a slight frown.

"Jin," you sigh, greeting him with a smile before pouting at the sight of his furrowed brows. "What isn't fair?"

"I am the oldest," he says, making you even more confused. "Do you not believe that I should have been the first one, or one of the firsts, to claim your lips?"

Oh.

He sulks at the fact that you have kissed all the Gods saved for him, an underlying insecurity falling upon him though he hides it behind a pout and a playful tone. But you can understand your God of Stars without him needing to explain or you needing to touch him. Seokjin is a patient God, one who will never rush anything if you are not ready just as the rest, but you know that it must confuse him to come to know that you have already shared lips with the others.

"I'm sorry," you say sincerely as you come to walk towards him. Seokjin stands straight from the pillar and takes a small step back at your approach. You stop, frowning.

"No, my love," he tells you with a small smile that is all too painful. "You do not have to force yourself if you do not wish for it."

"Oh Seokjin," your heart falls for him. He worries for you, not wanting anything to be forced no matter how much he wants it because he is a gentleman. Seokjin is afraid, you can see it in his sad smile, and if these past months has taught you anything, it'd be that you have come to understand them a little better without having to feel. "I promise you I am not feeling forced to do anything," you say as you start walking again and falling silently relieved when he does not move this time. "I'm sorry, I hadn't meant for this to happen when I kissed them."

"No," he sighs, "I know you did not. You have no need to apologize, I just-"

You take his hand once you come close enough and let your face sweetly nuzzle against his palm. You let him know that you want this, you truly do, and that you aren't afraid of it anymore. Perhaps another step further is still further in the future but right now, as you're taking things step by step, you want this, you want to share kisses with them. With all of them.

"I want this," you say it aloud as you gaze up at him with a sincere gaze.

He falls silent for a moment, just watching you as if he is mesmerized, as if he is entranced, and it only makes your heart flutter because you can hear his thoughts. "Really?" He asks though he can feel you. You respond with a small nod. "Hm," he hums softly, thinking. You want to laugh at how he's deciding to play hard to get with this and roll your eyes.

"Do you want it?"

"Do I?"

"I'll give it to you."

"Will you?"

It is even more hilarious when the two of you can understand the confirmed feelings by the touches so you chuckle and he follows along to the amusement, echoing your gentle laugh. "But just know," you hold up a finger, "I am no expert just because I have kissed the six of you already."

He hums. "I know."

But he makes no move and it leaves you standing flustered. "You..y-you can't," you stutter, "you cannot expect me to make the first move?"

Seokjin shrugs. "You did it with Jungkook."

"But that was just a little-"

"No excuses, my dear." he tells you, pouting. "Do you not believe that you owe me a little something? Hm?"

You mirror his pout and let out a small sigh. "Alright," you decide and take a deep breath. You don't know how you will ever get used to this when just one little peck gets you so flustered but because Seokjin is still a bit upset, you know you cannot refuse his request. You have to do this for him. So you place your hands on his shoulders, mimicking the action you had done with Jungkook and close your eyes shut with feet tip toeing up because he is tall, and press a kiss right on his lips before letting out a little crying sound as your head buries against his chest out of embarrassment.

The God of Stars laughs. "It's not funny," you chide with a pout and can still feel the lingering sensation of his lips.

"My sweet galaxy, do you really believe that I will accept a little peck as a kiss?" You huff and leave his arms with flushed cheeks, your pout deepening. He grins at the way your eyes refuses to meet his, knowing the exact reasons why. But he understands so he lets out a sigh. "Alright, I'll let this one slide since I love you and you're my shy little star."

He backs you up against the pillar, taking your face into a hand and squishing your cheeks. You don't know how he can act in such a way that makes your heart skip a beat but also be so playful about it. So you let out a soft whine, cheeks puffed out with your lips turned into a duck because of the way he holds your face. "Seokjin~"

He laughs that cute laugh that only makes things worse for your heart and you huff again. "Alright, alright," he says, calming down. At least he's feeling better so you know you aren't exactly upset with him. Seokjin smirks at the thought though there is an underlying soft fondness in his gaze as he feels thankful for you, only reminded of how much he loves you. Seokjin pulls your face forward and leans in, pressing a soft kiss but leaving too fast just like you had done.

You're about to say something when he leans in again, this time slower and more sensual. The grip upon your face releases and is replaced by both hands that holds you in a gentle manner as he presses you up further against the pillar. Your heart skips a beat, beating rapidly against your chest at how skillful and sweet he is. Your mind retraces back to those memories that belongs to him, knowing the God of Stars has the most experience in such field. He's had experience even before meeting his soulmates but who can blame him? His face alone will make anyone drop to the floor and it makes you a bit at a loss on how you should feel. He's yours now, so you won't have to worry about anyone else, right?

"Focus on me, sweet one," the God of Stars whispers against your lips to let you take a little breather for just a split second before he's capturing your lips and heart again. "I'm yours, my dear," he vows and nibbles along your lower lip. "I'm yours."

Your thoughts are filled with nothing but him while your heart continues to race on and on into the starry night.

.

.

.

The God of Sun watches you from the doorway while you sit in a comfortable armchair near the center of the room with a piece of clothing on your lap, thread and needle in a hand as you sew through something white and fuzzy onto the golden fabric. He smiles at the sight of peace and serene, knowing how you like to keep yourself busy and use some time to do things you like.

Most days you will read in Namjoon's library, or walk around tending to the garden, or becoming friendly with their elements; the wisteria, the sun, the stars, and the fishes in the ocean. Today you are in your own element, sewing something that looks like something they have gotten for you. You like to redesign a few things if you can, giving your own touches along their spoiled gifts because it makes you feel closer to them. He smiles at the sight, loving all that belongs to you. Your heart and thoughts are the most gentle out of everything.

Thunder rolls outside, causing your head to perk up and look on over towards the opening balcony where the windows instantly falls closed on their own upon the sound of rain beginning to fall from the clouds. It has been cloudy this whole day so it wasn't a surprise to Hoseok that it's beginning to rain but you look a little surprised, eyes probably too focused inside to notice the weather.

But you don't mind the rain because anything aside from the constant winter you had been used to back on the mountain is beautiful. Sunny days are gorgeous, rainy days are pretty.

A gasp that falls from your lips leaves him to quickly revert his attention back on you and he sees the way you whine as you hold up your forefinger, whimpering. Hoseok is by your side in an instant as he surprises you by picking you up and moving you towards the sofa where he sits you on his lap, a hand coming up to hold your pricked finger and hold it to his lips. One kiss alone is enough to heal the pain and take the blood away.

"Hoseok.."

"Did you not tell me once that a seamstress must never fall distracted?" He reminds you as he brings his lips to greet you on the temple.

"It was the thunder's fault," you pout and he erupts with a laugh before another voice walks in.

"You cannot blame mother nature for your moment of recklessness," Taehyung says.

At the sight of the rest of your Gods arriving, your heart flutters with excitement and Hoseok chuckles knowingly. "I have a question," you say clapping your hands together.

Jungkook takes the seat you had sat in before, Taehyung, Seokjin, and Jimin sitting on the sofa directly from you and Hoseok, while Namjoon sits across Jungkook and Yoongi comes on to settle himself beside you and Hoseok. "What is it?" The God of Knowledge prompts.

"Does it ever snow here?"

Jungkook raises a brow. "That sounds like you want for it to happen."

You shrug lightly as your eyes fall back on the work in your lap, returning to pick up your needle to begin threading through again. "I was just thinking," you say with a soft smile, "I don't think the snow will bring back bad memories anymore. After all, I was born on a snowy day and grew up with it my whole life. I just want to be reminded of the good times back on that mountain, be reminded of everyone there."

They watch you with a soft gaze, fondness falling upon them as they smile because of how much you've grown. Yoongi brushes your hair to the side, a hand stroking your cheek in a gentle manner. "We're so proud of you, little one."

You look up, beaming.

"Well, anything can happen," Jimin tells you. "We'll just have to wait for December to come."

"I came here around January," you remember, confused. "Shouldn't it have snowed then?"

Hoseok props his chin up against your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist as he nuzzles into your neck. "You wanted to meet Spring, remember? So we had to make it happen, because our sweet soulmate could not take the cold anymore and we didn't want you to continue suffering." Your heart blossoms with a thousand heartbeats that escalates, fingers pausing on the needle as you look up at Hoseok. He hears your thought and squeezes your side. "When it comes to you, love, we will do all the impossible just to make you smile."

You fall silent for a moment and can feel the tears beginning to brim as you look through his thoughts. "You were going to make it Spring  all year round?"

"Of course."

You have heard that Summer can grow very overheated, the sun becoming overwhelming from time to time that no mortal likes to leave the house just as Winter can get quite cold. But it's already been months, somewhere around July, and the heat has yet to come. This place is paradise because of them, being able to control the weather in however way they'd like, being able to make it Spring all year round just for you. Because you wanted to meet Spring. Because you liked Spring.

Your lips quiver as you drop your needle and turn to wrap your arms around the God of Sun. "Thank you," you whisper when the rest almost has a heart attack at your tears. It's soft, so much softer than the storm that falls outside. It doesn't scare you so you're fine, knowing the plants need their water from the clouds. And you know that no matter how quiet you may be, they hear you, they always hear you.

"Oh love," Hoseok sighs contently as the Gods come to surround the two of you.

They love you so much and everyday when you think you're already at the end, you end up falling deeper and deeper in love. Perhaps as the years passes on and on, the love will grow even more than it is at this moment. You are so blessed to have them in your life, to be saved by them, your soulmates. No other love will ever come to compare with theirs. "I'm so happy," you sniffle.

Yoongi sends you a gentle smile when you look up again to look at them all. His hands reaches out to cup your face, fingers brushing away the tears that have fallen. "We are too, my sweet muse." Namjoon hums softly in agreement while Jimin takes your little work to set it aside on the coffee table inside the circle of furniture so that the needle doesn't accidentally hurt you again.

"You may look pretty when you cry, my love, but we prefer your beautiful face when you smile instead," Taehyung says.

"Sorry," you giggle.

He beams, sighing. "There it is."

Seokjin takes a hand of yours. "We can make Winter return if you'd like. It will definitely not grow as cold as it was on the mountain, however, because we would never want you to freeze and see you in pain."

"Thank you." You squeeze his hand.

"I have another good news." You look on over at Jungkook with anticipation, head tilted just slightly to the side as you blink, wondering what he wants to say. He takes a second, pulling something out from his pocket then shows you his fist before opening it right in front of you. Your breath hitches at the sight, eyes widening and tearing up all over again when you catch sight of the nostalgic memory hidden on the object he holds out to you alone.

"My mother's bracelet..." you breathe when a tear falls and another comes. You had lost it one day traveling through the snow and because the strings were too frail to even hold together after you tried fixing it, it snapped and slipped right out of your wrist when you weren't paying attention. You tried to look for it when you realized it was no longer there but it had been impossible to do so under all that snow. "How..?"

"I saw it in your memories," the God of Hearth says as he smiles and gently goes to brush your tears, "so I retraced the steps back when I returned to the mountain. I know how much it means to you." The bracelet is in a much better condition, strings now strong and firm along with the colors of the beads looking as bright and new as it had been firstly given to your mother. You have no words, too touched that saying thank you again sounds too worthless to say so. But he hears you. He understands. The God of Hearth takes the bracelet to roll it onto your wrist with a smile.

While the rain continues falling and falling, dropping against the windowsill constantly, your heart is warmed with delight and love that you have no words that can perfectly describe how you feel. But that's okay because as long as your Gods are here, touching you, they can understand all that cannot be described with words. "I love you," you tell them instead, sniffling.

Namjoon chuckles. "No more tears, okay?"

You nod, wiping away the remaining tears on your own before showing them the smile that they love so much.

"That's right," Jimin muses, "you are the most beautiful when you smile."

[alicee1]

Finally back

Revived! Wilbur x Reader

Warnings: talk of death, grieving, character death (Wilbur), reunion

Word count: 1.7K

Synopsis: After Wilbur got revived by Dream he first rushes off to find you, right in the place where you had spent the night before L’manburg got blown up together with you. Angst followed by fluff/comfort

Request:

what if revived wilbur returning to a (he/him or they/them) reader and the reader who was with wilbur the night before l'manberg went boom being like super over emotional and stuff because they hadnt seen their lover in a while and just good ole comfort coming out of the reunion :0 (please the wilbur revival has had me craving wilbur content </3)

A/n: Not gonna lie, this was really hard to write at first cause of the pure angst, but i figured out a way! I really hope you enjoy it and it was really fun to write actually. Thank you for requesting!

Rules, Masterlist

"I'll come back to you."

Maybe you had been a fool to believe his words. Both you and him knew the chance was small that he would come back unscathed yet in that moment, those promising words that left his mouth were all that mattered.

The night before the bombing of L'manburg you had spent together with Wilbur. It had been calm and comfortable, spending the night in each other's arms and reminiscencing past memories. Neither of you had spoken a word of what would happen the next day.

He had built a small cabin in the woods where he stayed with you, his little escape from the outside world and all the problems that came with it.

For a while you had seen Wilbur start to slip, his sanity slowly seeping away under the pressure and responsibilities he carried.

He didn't speak to you often about L'manburg and Pogtopia, wanting to keep you seperated from his work and worries.

You had been his escape.

No matter what had happened outside the walls of your small comfortable cabin, it was as if a switch was flicked as soon as he stepped inside.

Even if it was just for a moment, he could leave all his worries and problems behind and seek comfort in your arms.

You were his cliff against the stormy sea that were his thoughts and problems, an unrelenting barrier he could escape to.

But as the day crept nearer he had explained to you what his plan was, sitting down with you as he explained what could happen.

You had known where he was when you awoke to an empty bed that morning. His warmth lingered in the blankets and his scent in the air. Leaving behind his promise to return to you from the night before.

His words were believable, you truly believed he would return to you. For the past days he had made up his mind, through cracks you thought you could see glimpses of the Wilbur you had once known.

Nothing could have prepared you for the news that Phil brought with him.

It felt as if you were torn apart piece by piece before getting out back together, yet his death left a gaping hole behind.

You had etched his name into the large builder that laid in your back garden, without a body to bury it was the most you could do as memorial.

Desperately you had clung onto the traces that he had left behind in your cabin. The pack of cigarettes left on the table, his spare beanie that hung discarded on a chair. A small pile of crumpled up papers discarded as he attempted to write letters to his father.

He never send the majority of them. After everything had gone south and he had retreated to the woods and Pogtopia it just seemed like he couldnt keep up the lies anymore.

You never touched anything he held left behind, afraid it would get rid of his last traces in the cabin. The objects were cleaned often but other than that remained untouched.

It was a few months until a see through apparition had found its way to the small cabin. It was one of the first times you had left the comforting space after Wilbur's death only to be faced with someone, something, that looked so much like him.

It had made you curl up under the protective blankets of your bed as tears streamed down your face as you grieved.

Although it had taken a long time, you learned to move on. Despite that his last traces in the cabin stayed untouched, but you healed. Slowly, step by step, but it happened.

You returned to the way you lived before. Besides the crater in your heart that you weren't sure would ever heal, you picked up your activities one by one.

You started gathering wood again, hunting for meat and gardening in your back garden where you had started a small vegetable farm beside the memorial builder.

Each time you passed it you traced your hand over the stone, lingering for a few seconds as you remembered him before moving on with what you were doing. Although you would always make sure there was a small bouquet of fresh, hand picked, wild flower laid on the stone.

The apparition didn't appear again, making you believe you had imagined the entire ordeal in the first place.

The fireplace was lit again when you were at the cabin, the windows opened to let in fresh air. Due to the secluded nature of the woods you could easily leave the windows and doors open as you gathered for materials.

Wilbur hurried away from the crater where L'manburg once stood. He left Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo, who he had just met, behind there. Plans and ideas shot through his mind although he needed to figure something out first.

He reached the cabin in the woods, he didn't even have to think to remember the way, his body leading him down the path automatically despite it having been 13 years.

The small clearing was still exactly the same as he remembered, the cabin stood peacefully in the middle of it.

Wilbur could see a new vegetable garden beside it, surrounded my fences with lanterns attached to light it up in the dark.

The windows and doors stood open, making his entrance effortless as he entered.

The place still looked exactly the same, although he could see the small changes that had occured over time. But in general, it looked as if time had stopped flowing inside.

The pack of cigarettes laid unmoving on the bedside table that stood on his side of the bed. His spare beanie hung from the side of the clothing chair that stood in the same corner it had been in 13 years ago. The fireplace that always spread warmth and a soft golden glow when he returned to you was reduced to a smouldering pile of ashes, indicating you hadn't been gone for too long.

A small hand drawn map hung from the wall that hadn't been there before.

The only thing missing was you.

Today you had chosen to go fishing, something you had enjoyed doing before but a hobby you had left neglected for a long time.

The ripples in the water were calming as you breathed out, instantly you knew why you had always enjoyed it. There was something peaceful in watching the sun's reflexion in the small ripples the water created as the red and white striped ball floated gently along the stream.

You stayed by the river for most of the day, only returning at the end of the afternoon, satisfied with the catch of today.

As you returned home, you were caught of guard by the steady smoke that gently rose from the chimney. You could see it from a little distance away, making you question if you had checked that the fire had died before you left.

The sack you had stored the fish in hung from your hand as you gently opened the door with the other, the setting of the sun had allowed the fire to cast it's golden glow through the cabin.

That wasn't however what caught your attention. Instead the cloaked figure in the middle of the room did.

A dark cloak you could recognize between any other, paired with a beanie similar to the one you saw every day as it hung from, what had once been your shared, clothing chair. Underneath messy brown hair could be seen.

It was an appearance you could recognize in a heartbeat as tears gathered in your eyes, the sack slipping from your grasp as Wilbur turned around at the sound of the door opening.

He didn't say anything, just opened his arms invitingly as you stumbled forward, crashing into him and burying your head in his shoulder.

His hold on you was tight, he breathed in deeply through his nose, inhaling your scent as his arms squeezed harder around your form.

He had missed you so much. In those 13 years spent at the station, all he wanted was to see you one last time, to apologize for leaving you behind.

There had not been a single moment where he hadn’ t longed for your touch, for your presence, in comfort.

All that time he had thought he truly wanted to die, that this world wasn't for him. All that time you had been his deciding factor without even knowing.

But now that he had experienced it, was there and seen what it was like, he was sure of the truth, his truth.

Ha had a new lease on life and this time, he wouldn't throw it away. He had learned.

He melted into your touch as you leaned back, cupping his cheek and wiping away the stray tears he hadn't even realized that flew down his cheeks.

In your eyes he could still see the same love for him as he had seen that night. You still looked exactly like you then.

He pulled you closer, inhaling your scent as he realized he was holding you, the real, physical you, in his arms once more. You smelt like water, grass and the forest. It was a scent he would burn into his mind of he could.

You pulled him towards the bed gently, forgetting what you had been doing before entering the house and tackled him onto the bed in your hold.

His voice was rough as he spoke, pulling you closer against him as he mumbled against your skin. It may have taken him 13 years to do it, but he did it.

"I promised you I'd come back to you."

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 27: Home

"He's got to be somewhere!" Harry all but shouted at the bloody incompetent people milling uselessly around him. What was the point of all of these people if they couldn't even do their jobs?

"Sir," one of the junior aurors said, "We're doing the best we can, but-"

"Do better,” he exploded.

Ron gripped his forearm and led him off to the side of the room. "Listen to me," his best friend said, "I know that you are worried and I know that you are chomping at the bit for us to figure this out, but we cannot work any faster."

"We have to," Harry said. "We have to work faster because every moment that we spend in here, is another moment that he is out there with that psychopath and I don't have to tell you how vicious Marcus is."

The horrific images of the bodies they'd found a few days ago flashed to the front of his mind but instead of being the strangers bodies naked and covered in cuts and bruises, it was Draco's body. The well-loved, all but worshiped body of the man that Harry was desperately in love with. And Draco didn't even know, he'd never even told him. He shook his head, biting back the urge to vomit, trying to keep the panic to a dull roar. "We have to find him."

"I know," Ron murmured, putting a warm, steady hand on his shoulder. "I know and we are doing everything, we have everyone on this. The moment anyone finds anything they'll let-"

"Sir!" Darcy called, dashing into the room, "I think we've got him."

(Read more below the cut)

"Give me the coordinates," Harry said, reaching for the paper in her hands.

"You can't just go in there," Ron protested, trying to snatch the paper away from Harry, "we need a plan of attack, we need to figure out how to coordinate our people."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "You're in charge of that and you can meet me there. I'm sure I'll need the back up."

"Harry, don't-"

But it was too late, obviously, as if Ron could have ever expected him to stay, as if there was anything on this earth that could have kept him from Draco.

Harry wasn't especially good with blind apparation, but he knew the instant he arrived that this was definitely the spot. The air around him when he landed felt tainted and dark, sparking with evil that touched the depth of Harry's soul and set the hairs on the back of his neck on end. A cabin sat just at the other side of the clearing, smoke rising from the chimney.

Casting a silent spell that would show any hidden wards and traps, Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak, enlarged it to it's normal size, covered himself, and set off across the clearing, deftly avoiding any of the places that quivered gold from his magic.

His heart hammered against his ribs, so loud that he feared it would give him away the moment he got into the house. He crept to the window and peered inside, Draco sat slumped in a chair near the fire place. His long blond hair was dirty and Harry got the sickening feeling that some of the darkness was where blood had dried. Bruises and abrasions mottled his pale skin, covering his face and neck, and undoubtedly places that Harry couldn't see.

The only relief was that he was obviously still breathing, labored though it appeared to be.

Marcus was no where in sight.

He cast several spells that Bill had taught him one summer when he was considering becoming a curse breaker and the ward fell apart around the window, leaving him a space to crawl through.

No sooner was he through the window when that tickle of awareness prickled up his spine, he spun and cast, "Expelliarmus," before he'd even fully realized why. A wand clattered to the ground and he cast, "Petrificus Totalus, incacerous," in rapid succession and Marcus hit the ground wrapped in ropes. Harry yanked his cloak off and glared at the man on the floor, "Give me one reason," he growled at Marcus, "One reason and I will fucking end you."

When the man made no attempt to move, he rushed over to Draco, "Draco," he murmured, "Draco," he repeated, carefully brushing his fingers over the other man's swollen, bruised cheek.

His silver eyes flickered open and he flinched away from Harry's hand.

"Oh, love," he managed, his throat tight around the words. "I'm here, you're safe."

Draco's eyes widened when he realized it was Harry, a tear slipping down his cheek.

"Okay," he breathed, "We have to get out of-" he began but the door behind him was blasted open and he cast a hasty "protego" preparing to fight off whomever had just come barreling through.

"I cannot fucking believe you," Ron hissed as he stomped in.

"Is the perimeter cleared?" Harry asked as he turned back to Draco, far more at ease now that Ron was there guarding his back.

"No it is not," Ron replied. "I broke a million protocols to get here while everyone else is working their way in-"

Harry stopped listening as he took the gag off of Draco. "Are you alright?"

Draco nodded weakly, "I'll be fine," he assured him.

He untied him quickly and efficiently and then helped him to stand before pulling him into his arms.

"Harry," the other man gasped, "We shouldn't. Everyone can see-"

"Let them," he whispered, tears stinging the back of his eyes as he held the other man, "Godric, Draco," he rasped, "I was so bloody worried about you."

He pulled back minutely and cupped the other man's cheek, brushing a finger over his bruised cheekbone. "He hurt you," he said, "We need to get you to St. Mungo's, get you checked out."

"It's superficial," he said, shaking his head, "I can heal them myself. Just," he swallowed, "Can we go home?"

"Ron?" Harry called.

"Yeah?" the other man replied.

Harry turned his head, but kept Draco in his arms, "I'm leaving. I'll owl you with a report of what happened prior to the team's arrival."

"Harry," Ron said, lowering his voice and stepping closer, "You're going to be in a lot of hot water about this."

"I don't care," Harry said.

"I mean all of it, going rogue, coming here without any plan, without back up, leaving now will be the least of your worries."

"You're right," Harry replied. "But I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. What are they going to do? Fire me?" He rolled his eyes, "They'd be doing me a favor."

Ron shook his head, "Go on, then."

"Thanks," Harry said, nodding once at Ron before he turned to Draco, "Ready?" he asked, "I'm going to apparate us."

Draco nodded and Harry focused on Draco's living room, even though his own sofa and fireplace beckoned him, before he apparated them out of there.

When they landed, Draco looked around, looking a bit crestfallen, "This is my flat," he said.

"Yeah, you said home?" Harry replied. "Oh, did you mean the Manor? I can take you there-" Harry started even as it made his heart ache, he knew he wouldn't be welcome to stay there.

"No," the other man interrupted, shaking his head for emphasis and wincing a bit at the motion, "I was rather hoping we might go to your home?" he asked uncertainly. "I feel safer there," he added, a little hitch in his voice.

"Yes," Harry said. "Yes," he managed again because his heart was racing and soaring all at once and he wasn't sure what else he could possibly say.

He apparated them into his home and stroked Draco's hair back from his face, "You're sure we shouldn't go to St. Mungos?"

Draco nodded, "I'll be fine. I've left a kit here with some potions and such since you're always injuring yourself," he added with a pained smile. "I'm just going to use the restroom so I have a mirror."

Harry nodded, "I'll light the fire. Are you hungry?"

"A bit."

"I'll heat up some stew," Harry said, "I could make a batch of the biscuits you like?"

Draco nodded, "That would be nice."

"Draco," Harry called once the other man started limping to the bathroom.

"Yes?"

Harry crossed the distance between them, cupped his face and gently, so very gently, pressed his lips to Draco's.

Draco pulled back, "I'm covered in blood."

"I don't care," Harry whispered, brushing his lips over Draco's once more. "Call me if you need help, yes?"

He nodded and started toward the bathroom.

After starting the fire and making them food, Harry went to get a pair of sweatpants (the grey ones that Draco always stole when he stayed over for breakfast) and a tshirt (one from when Harry was training to be an auror that was worn and faded, Draco always borrowed it when they went out flying) and wandered to the bathroom. He knocked once before opening the door to find Draco sitting on the closed toilet lid with his head in his hands.

"Oh," Harry murmured, moving to kneel at Draco's feet.

"Sorry," the other man said, wiping at his eyes, "Circe I'm sorry, every time I look at myself in the mirror I lose it."

"Okay," Harry murmured, "It's okay. Let me help."

"I fixed my rib already," Draco said, "Episkey ought to do the trick for the rest."

With as much care as he could muster, Harry tenderly healed all of the wounds on Draco's body. He was covered in gashes, and scrapes, and bruises and Harry ached with all of the words that stuck in his throat, with everything that had remained so desperately unsaid.

After he finished healing him, Harry drew the other man a bath and filled it with the lilac soap that always left Draco smiling and pressing his nose to Harry's skin to smell it. Draco reached out a hand for the flannel but Harry whispered, "Let me?" and the other man nodded.

He cleaned his body of all of the dirt, the grime, the blood; washing every inch of him until there was no trace of the horror the other man had endured. Then he moved to his hair; he carefully washed, conditioned, and detangled his hair before helping the other man out and drying him with equal care and diligence, and helping him into the clothes he'd brought in.

"Sit for a minute?" he asked, gesturing to the toilet seat and the other man obliged him without a word. He carefully brushed his hair and then braided it the way Draco so often did before bed, starting at the crown of his head and drawing in section after section, braiding all the way down to the middle of his back.

"All done," he whispered when he finished, pressing a kiss to the top of Draco's head.

"Thank you," the other man murmured, reaching back to cover Harry's hand where it rested on his shoulder.

And all of the things that had been scratching at Harry's throat, trying to claw their way out at once and stuck there now, "I'm so sorry," he managed, "Godric, Draco, I'm sorry." Tears welled up, prickly and hot at the back of his eyes.

"Hey," Draco said softly, clearly recognizing that Harry was about to break. He turned so he was facing Harry and grabbed his hand, "This isn't your fault."

Harry shook his head, "It's always my fault. Everyone that I love-" he broke off abruptly realizing what he'd just confessed.

"You," Draco started, brows furrowing, "You love me?"

He nodded miserably, "And I should have told you before now. You're going to think it's just the trauma, but Draco I should have told you every day for the past year," he added. "All I could think today was that I was going to be too late and I'd never be able to tell you how I really feel. Because I am completely gone on you Draco Malfoy and I wanted you to know."

A smile tugged at the corner of the other man's lips, "I love you, too, Harry Potter."

"Yeah?" he whispered.

Draco nodded.

"Will you stay? Here?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Draco replied.

"But like, forever?" he asked.

"I'd like nothing better," Draco affirmed, smiling as he leaned up and pressed a kiss to Harry's lips.

Harry kissed him back for a long moment, letting the kiss assure him that Draco was going to be okay, that he was here with him, and he wasn't going anywhere. He rested his forehead against Draco's and said, "I still have so many things I need to say."

"They'll keep," Draco replied, stroking a finger lightly over Harry's cheek. "Let's just have dinner and then I really just need you to take me to bed and hold me."

And if they held each other a little tighter than usual that night, there was no one to know but the two of them.

----------------

Ah!!! Please go and look at the gorgeous art that @pato-roldnart drew for this ficlet. It’s stunning and heart wrenching and I’m so overwhelmed by how amazing it is!! You’re seriously spoiling me!

Day 26: Broken Bone | Day 28: Shopping

Thank you, @atticus-bluejay for the prompt! I hope you enjoyed it!

[serrj215]

Waiting up for Santa

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the Tower, not a creature was stirring, except Beast Boy. He was making hot chocolate and was stirring quite a bit. The rest of the Titans were all snug in their beds, mostly because the city had been calm and Robin took the opportunity to crank up their training again. (Look do you want me to rhyme or do you want to hear the story…that’s what I thought.)

Beast Boy had plans, and a long winter’s nap was not part of them. He stood at the cooktop humming Rudolf the Red-nosed reindeer, barefoot and in his most festive pajamas. Everything was perfect. He had the living room all to himself, cookies were in the oven, and the tree was lit giving the room that unique warm glow that only a string of cheap Christmas lights can give it. In a few minutes, he was going to have everything he needed for a very special night.

He put the spoon down and carefully poured himself a cup of his hot creation, a handful of mini marshmallows for the cup minus a few he tossed into his mouth and it was done. It would have been easier to just heat some water in the microwave and open a packet. But it was Christmas eve, if there was any time to do this the old-fashioned way it was tonight. He took a sip and enjoyed the simple moment.

The oven beeped. He quickly put down his cup to get the cookies. Completely distracted by the oven. He didn’t notice that he was no longer alone. When he turned around holding a tray of cookies with reindeer oven mitts, he froze. Of all people, he didn’t expect to see Raven there with a bottle of water. She was still in her usual cloak and leotard a sharp contrast to her green friend wearing red and white PJs that said "Elf in training"

"Um hi Rae, up late?" Beast boy asking his voice squeaking slightly a stiff, strained smile on his face. He was caught cookie-handed. He didn't know what to say, 'this isn't what it looks like, It was exactly what it looked like. Why else on Christmas Eve would he be baking cookies with red and green M&Ms in them? Why else would there be hot cocoa on the stove, the couch layered with blankets and pillows? Why else would the coffee table be stacked with Christmas DVDs?

"And so are you." She said taking a drink from her water. Raven just stood not sure if she really wanted to know what was going on. The simple thing to do would be to take her water and go back to her room. She could forget about this ever happening and Beast Boy can do whatever his jolly-green elf-self wanted. One more odd thing in this tower wouldn’t make much of a difference. It was his face though, the look on his face was that of a child that had just been caught. That mix of nervous laughter, panic, and guilt. Pushing that aside, she turned to leave the room, doing her best to ignore her jittery friend, his cookies, and the reindeer oven mitts.

"Raven, could we keep this between us?" Beast Boy asked

That's when the switch flipped. What was there to keep? Beast Boy had done far stranger things. Why on earth would Beast Boy want to keep this of all things a secret? She was not sure what "this" was, but he had never been shy about his antics. Cyborg and Starfire would have gladly joined him to binge Christmas movies and baked goods. You would think she caught him watching porn, instead of Frosty the Snowman .

"I can, but I'm not seeing why?"

"Dude! You just caught me waiting up for Santa Claus. I'll never hear the end of this!"

That's when she turned to face him.

"Beast Boy, you think that overweight, magical gentleman, that flies by sleigh pulled by reindeer is going to come down a chimney that we do not have, to give you presents?" She asked trying to remember if Beast Boy hit his head recently.

"No." He said defeated "I can explain, there's a lot more to…this." he gestured around the room then his outfit. His eyes fell back to the tray cookies he was still holding "Do you want a cookie? "

Walking away was still an option but her curiosity was peaked and this seemed innocent enough. She took a seat at the kitchen table. He sat down across from her, putting the cookie sheet on the table between them.

"So why are you baking M&M cookies in the dead of night?"

"Because I'm not a fan of gingerbread men?" He said with a stiff smile. Raven's only response was to take a cookie from the tray and break it in half in front of him.

His shoulders dropped "The first year I was with the Doom patrol, I woke up at dawn for Christmas, I was an excited kid, I woke up the whole house. I didn’t know at the time, but It pissed off Steve something fierce. Rita had an idea. The next year said we were going to be naughty and we're going to wait up for Santa so we made cookies and watched Christmas movies together we stayed up late. I eventually passed out on the couch sometime during Miracle on 34th street. " The memory tugged a small smile onto his face. "It became our thing each year. Even after I figured out Santa wasn't real. Even after I figured out that Steve wanted to sleep in on Christmas day."

Raven just sat there. What could anyone say to this?

"I know this is goofy and childish, but I didn’t want to let that go yet." He said. "That” he pulled off the oven mitts “and now Rita is gone, It's up to me to make the cookies. "

She wished that she had gone back to her room when she had the chance, she was intruding on a memory. This was not just some one-man pajama party Beast Boy was throwing for himself.

"I won't tell anyone. " She said after a few moments. "But you do not need to keep this a secret."

"You don't think this is weird?"

"We live with an Alien from another world, a man that is a half-machine, my father is an interdimensional demon, and yesterday morning we fought a man dressed up as a 6-foot moth." She took a small bit of the cookie in her hand. "Weird is relative."

"Thanks, Rae," He said, getting up from the table bringing the cookies into the living room, and putting them next to the DVD tower. He flopped onto the couch, adjusting the pillows. Then he turned his head back toward the kitchen. "If you like you could stay. I made plenty of hot chocolate." he had picked up one of the DVD cases to give his hands something to do. "I am just starting Rudolph the Red-Nosed reindeer."

"No," She said flatly the words hit the air and she could feel the disappointment off Beast boy. It was like a sudden chill that runs up your nerves.

Beast Boy gave her a weak smile and turned back toward the tv.

"We'll start with A Christmas Carol," she said slowly coming around the couch to sit down a few cushions away.

Beast Boy’s eyes went wide in mild shock. He reached for the DVDs almost fumbling them over. "Okay! um... but the Muppet version?"

"If you insist!"

“Thanks, Rae!” Beast Boy said as he jumped from his seat to swap the DVDs.

“Beast Boy, I am staying for one movie and a cookie. Just this once, then I will let you have your little ritual. I am not going to be up all night with you.”

“Okay! Whatever you say, Rae!” He said as he pressed play on the remote control, quickly jumping back into his seat.

Of course, one movie led to another, then another. Soon the cookies were gone and the few remaining sips of hot chocolate had gone cold. The two heroes were both fast asleep wrapped in blankets as the Snowmiser sang on the screen.

=========Years later and in a living room far far away.========

"Is She out?" Raven whispered.

“Fast asleep” Beast Boy said as he carefully stood up, holding their daughter. Melody had spent most of the night sitting in her father’s lap. The young girl had crashed hard after a night of sugar and singing along with every Christmas song, from every movie that they had watched.

“I'm proud of her,” he said in a hushed tone. “She made it through Nightmare this time.” He carefully repositioned the young girl in green feety pajamas against his chest letting her rest her head on his shoulder. “I am surprised she fell asleep when Santa Claus coming to town started. Mel loves that one."

"She will watch it again tomorrow," Raven said as she started to arrange the pillows and blankets for the young girl. "Several times if last year was any indication."

Melody's parents carefully laid her on the couch and tucked her in. They had promised to let her wait near the tree for Santa. They did have to talk her out of setting up motion detectors and a camera. An idea that her uncle Dick put in her head.

"I guess that's the end of that, there is no room on the couch for us now. "

"No, But we do happen to have a perfectly good and warm bed upstairs." She said hugging him from behind. " and it is officially Christmas. If you like, you can open your present."

"I hope you got me the same thing as you did last year, I really enjoyed that."

Raven took one of his hands and helped guide it under the waist of her pajama bottoms. He could feel that unmistakable texture of silk lace covering her hip. She could feel his excitement, pulling his hand away before it could start exploring. He had to remind himself that there was a sleeping child in that room. It was the only thing keeping him from taking her on the floor right underneath the Christmas tree.

"Finish up here, give me 5 minutes, and come up. " She said before pressing a kiss into the back of his neck before departing.

Beast Boy quickly cleared the coffee table then checked on Melody one more time. Kissing her crown of dark hair. This yearly tradition had evolved, It expanded but it was still about the same thing.

Santa didn't show that year, or the one before or the one before that. And that was ok. It was Raven that gave him the greatest gift he ever received: love, acceptance, and a family. Three things he thought he'd never have.

Beast Boy started humming to himself to the tune of frosty the snowman leaving his child snuggled in for her long winter nap. The warm embrace of his loving wife, her body decorated in lace, and silk was waiting for him.

=============================================

What? A holiday story that is actually close to the holiday that is coming up? Most of the time I think of these things I end up posting them in August. This one like many took me a while. I would like to thank @lilytimbers for her help in reviewing this and for the loan of their BBrae OC Melody. She has created some amazing art. Thank you Lilly.

Crossposted on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/35453821

[cloud-craft]

No one questioned him carrying around a bed anymore. With a cocky smile and the turning of night into day, the others just assumed it was a quirk of his. It didn’t matter that breaking it would destroy the respawn magic until he slept again, not as long as the bed sat comfortably in his inventory until sunset.

No one questioned him except one other person with eyes too big and a mouth just too wide, but other than that he’s good! Bdubs is just a quirky guy who carries a bed with him for the convenience! Nothing else.

Definitely not because of the fear of someone sneaking into his room in the dead of night, using his bed to gather material that would be used to curse him. To control him with those horrible poppets and weird charm circles. That was definitely not the reason, thank you very much.

It’s been years, he has no reason to fear someone who couldn’t have followed them into the server they call home. Why should he be scared, he’s Bdubs!

And yet, he still wears the bell and water filled orbs, builds decorated with confusing knots and carved sigils, and if he saw his fellow big-eyed friend do the same with his builds, he didn’t mention it.

And yet, the sight of the washed up body draped in purple at the shore of their shopping district filled him with dread.

Despite the torn cloak, the smeared face paint, the cracked glasses, the mere presence of the witch froze him to the spot.

Bdubs stared at an unconscious ChimneySwift, breath held as he watched the man’s chest rise and lower with the tides. A beat, and then footsteps crunched on gravel as he approached the witch.

A tap with a shoe confirmed that Chimney was out cold. Bdubs frowned as the sun began to set and the giant moon rise.

“This is going to be a problem”

[thestraggletag]

Roll for Initiative, a Rumbelle D&D Fic

Summary: Tales of the Enchanted Forest was the hottest online D&D game, in part for its charismatic players, in part for the twisted turns of the DM's mind and in part because of the outrageous chemistry between its greatest OTP, the party's beautiful bard and the Dark One, an anti-hero side-character who is there to provide information and uncomfortable levels of UST. Mr Gold thinks it's a harmless flirtation that could never become anything else, just like his silly little crush on the town librarian, Belle French.

He's wrong.

Rating: Explicit.

Author’s Note: Surprise, @argoslight​, it is I, your Gifter! Sorry to make you wait till near the end but I just had way more banter to write in me than I thought. I hope you enjoy your gift. I’m so sorry to not be able to add more D&D elements but since I don’t play I don’t have a lot of idea of what could be done. Also I apologise for any mistakes! And thanks so much to @little-inkstone for her help and D&D knowledge.

The castle was quiet when she entered, her steps echoing against the stone. It was gloomy inside, curtains obscured and decor sparse and sombre, the castle living up to its name. But there were flowers on the table, moon lilies, her favourite flower. They bloomed only in the Eastern Mountains past the Old Wall, but she had long since suspected he grew some on one of his enchanted hothouses, with the excuse of using them for potions. 

“Where’s the rest of your pretty little troop of do-gooders, dearie?”

The voice came out of nowhere, echoing around the empty halls of the castle. Thankfully she did not need directions, knowing exactly when to turn and where to go. Soon she found herself in a vast room, with a table on the centre and curios filled with oddities and the like. Some others were displayed on pedestals, including a rather fearsome sword and a nasty-looking crown made of thorns. None of the artefacts were what she sought, but she was not there to bargain for an item, but rather for information.

“Off on their own quests, taking care of other things that need doing.”

The voice tsked, seeming not to approve.

“They let you enter the lair of the beast alone? Some heroes.”

The woman lowered the hood of her cloak and walked towards the unlit chimney. Immediately a fire blazed to life, as if the castle itself was trying to cater to her comfort. The fire provided much-needed light as well, revealing the profile of a man in the shadows. Or something that looked like a man, at least, if not for the reflective scales that covered his body and its strange eyes: gold irises around catlike pupils.

“I asked to come alone. I felt like we could talk more openly this way.”

She removed her cloak, ostensibly to drape it across a chair near the fire and let it dry. The creature, however, seemed to read more into the gesture, tsking again.

“You come here all alone, a pretty little lamb, and take off the only real bit of protection you have. Reckless, dearie, most reckless.”

 The creature stood up, walking slowly towards the light, revealing more of its form as it approached her. Leather pants and a long, reptilian-looking vest and coat. It wasn’t particularly tall but power emanated from it in suffocating waves. She closed her eyes, finding his cloying presence strangely comforting. Then again, she had always been odd. 

“Once again your pitiful little party of friends needs my help. How they weigh you down, Beauty.”

He stepped fully into the light then, revealing a being more creature than man, the reptilian skin and claws as off-putting as his unnatural eyes. She should’ve taken a step back, should’ve gone for her blade or the dagger tucked into her left boot, but she didn’t. As much as she knew she shouldn't, she felt at ease in his presence. Well, perhaps not quite. She certainly felt a strange sort of anxiousness in his presence, a fluttery sort of feeling that she attributed to being particularly attuned to his magic. None of the other members of her party felt that way. If anything, he repulsed them, which wasn’t something she could understand. To her he was… magnetic.

“Are you in the mood for dealing or not? I can trade for information.”

He snorted.

“With what? Your little band of misfits is dirt poor. That idiotic paladin of yours ruined your last mission. You really should think about ditching the man. All brawn, no brains. At least your rogue is a smart woman.”

His gaze left her briefly, running down the length of her clothing: sturdy black boots, a nicely-cut dress that stopped around the knees and a sturdy belt with a few pockets for her spells. But the clothing, as well-made as it was, was dated, old. Looked worn and was signed and stained in places, and it left a lot of her frail human skin exposed. She had not been able to afford an upgrade in a while, preferring to spend her coin in what could benefit the group.

His moue of distaste disappeared once his eyes fell on her cloak. Well, his cloak, since he had been the one to make it. It was a lovely thing in varied shades of green, shot through with golden thread, his trademark. She had bought it off him a long time ago, a simple thing to keep her warm during cold nights and dry when it rained. Miraculously, though, it also did not sustain damage, looking exactly the same as when she had first put it on.

“I’m glad at least my protection is serving you well.”

He ran a claw along the seams of the cloak, making it glitter, like to like, magic calling for its own. He looked smug, as if pleased she was wearing something he had made.

“It does more than we bargained for. I’ve been blasted with magic strong enough to burn through most fabric but it has not even frayed. How strange of you, Rumplestiltskin, to lose out on a deal.”

He shivered when she said his name, walking behind her to the safety of the shadow she cast next to the fire.

“Can’t help it if my magic is just that powerful, my dear. I’m glad you are a happy customer. Always thought that cloak was a nice bit of magic. Can’t fault you for always wearing it.”

She felt him close in on her from behind, to the point that it almost felt like they were touching.

“It smells like you. That’s why I wear it all the time.”

The noise he made behind her was inhuman, a cross between a whimper and a growl. His claws scrapped against the back of her dress, the feeling muted by her stays, but she could feel his breath against the back of her neck and that alone was-

“Hey, this is a decent stream! Keep it PG for the kids, you weirdos.”

“Damn it, Grumpy, I wanted to see how long it would take them to snap out of it!”

“Sorry, Snow, but I ate a big dinner and I aim to keep it down.”

The messages in the chatroom wheezed by, mostly disgruntled complaints about their OTP never catching a break. The other participants in the stream were mostly silent, their mics muted likely to hide the amused snickers. There was no video feed on any of the members of the party, all of them represented instead by artwork to preserve their anonymity. Once upon a time that had been a fanciful choice, and perhaps a way to stay safe when interacting with strangers on the internet. Now it was mostly to keep their private lives from being overtaken by the popularity of their stream. “Tales of the Enchanted Forest” was shaping up to be one of the hottest D&D online streaming shows, already on its third campaign and counting.

“Beauty is just trying to get us some answers, Grumpy. We can’t just go stumbling about hoping to run into some fairy wand by chance.”

“Oh, it’s that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Enough! Can we get back to the campaign already? It took me weeks to plan and it kinda hinges a bit on the Dark One helping, which needs to happen today.”

“Fine by me, dearie, if the dwarf can curtail his temper.”

The party was composed of five characters, a paladin, a cleric, a bard, a rogue and a thief, which along with the Dungeon Master made up the regular cast of every weekly stream. But given the popularity of the show, and the amount of time they had been playing, they had managed to amass a good amount of side-characters, guests invited every now and then to help the campaign move along and keep the interest of the audience. And by far the most popular of those guests was the Dark One, a wizard of unknown lineage and tremendous power that served both as an antagonist and a pseudo-ally depending on the situation. 

His presence was likely the reason why the livestream’s numbers looked so robust. He had amassed quite a fanbase, due in part to the commitment the player put on the character (the voice-acting was above and beyond what anyone could’ve expected from an amateur performer, and the backstory was quite complex, revealed in bits and pieces fans had meticulously assembled together) and in part to the chemistry he had managed to develop with the group’s bard, a half-human named Beauty.

“Okay, let’s all go back to what we were doing.” The DM’s voice was authoritative, though also more than a bit pissed off. “Okay, Beauty, you were about to try and cajole the Dark One to sell you the information you needed in return for a vial of water from Lake Nostos. Though the water is valuable, it’s not guaranteed to be enough to tempt the wizard. You have to roll at least a 13 in persuasion to make the trade. Roll when you’re ready.”

...

Rumford Gold stretched within the confines of the small backroom of his shop, where he had his computer stuff set up. Initially he’d bought the computer to better conduct his online business. His laptop at home wasn’t cutting it and it was better to photograph the antiques, update the website and handle the deliveries from his place of business. He had bought a good camera, some light fixtures and, on a whim, a microphone, for instances where he might need to virtually communicate with clients. It was something that was happening more and more, especially because a lot of his clientele was European. The internet had truly turned his antiquing- more of a hobby than a profession originally- into a profitable business.

He had gotten into watching D&D while waiting late at night for a client to become available in Austria. He had played as a lad, one of the few happy moments he could remember from his childhood in Glasgow, but had given it up once he had met Milah. And after they were over he had been too involved in making something of himself to remember past childhood enjoyments. But apparently D&D had evolved with the times and he had gotten into the habit of searching for and watching online D&D campaigns in his spare time. From that to actually being a side-character in one of them took almost no time. It was frightfully easy to go back to that frame of mind of playing make-believe, only now he had a distaste for the clean-cut heroic types and more of an affinity for the morally-grey, shady characters.

So he had auditioned for the role of evil-wizard when there had been an opening for a side-character in his favourite D&D stream, The Enchanted Forest. And though the DM had written what he considered to be a very flat, uninteresting character, he had been able to give it his own spin. He knew the DM hated him for it, hated when he deviated from what was expected of him, but people loved him. It was half the fun, pissing the DM off.

The other half, he had to admit, was Beauty. The one with the brains in the group, clearly, a half-human, half-fairy bard with an uncanny ability to think ahead, and arm herself with knowledge. Most of the other members of her party were more apt to try and decapitate something than negotiate with it, or even befriend it. Beauty prided herself on more of a gentle approach, which sometimes got her treated as the “fragile” one. He thought it just made her all the more interesting.

Their flirting had just kinda happened. He was half into it before he realised it had begun at all and by the time he had grown conscious- and self-conscious- of it fans were lapping it up and loving it. Even the DM, as loath as he was to admit it, found the banter engaging, even as if stole the spotlight from his story and where he wanted it to go. So every now and then he got invited into a stream, sometimes to interact with the whole party and sometimes, like the session he had just finished, to speak only to Beauty. And what was supposed to be a brief conversation before the party moved to greener pastures became a whole session, with the chatroom full of engagement and the view count off the charts.

But the DM had had a short tolerance span tonight, and had nipped things in the bud much sooner than usual. He felt… unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. Itchy, almost, in a way. So he was more than happy when he received an email from Beauty, who seemed to share his dislike of how the session had played out. They had started doing that more often, sharing emails after a session, even when he did not participate in it. It was harmless, he thought. Just an innocent online flirtation that could never realistically turn into anything. Not that his more in-person romantic overtures could ever pan out. He was in his third year of being completely smitten by the local town librarian, and in his second year of being able to put two words together in front of her without the help from Scotch, something he was perhaps a bit too proud of. And though he had decided very early on that the whole thing was utterly hopeless he had not been able to steer his thoughts or affections away. Realistically he was perhaps more in love with the idea of Belle French than the reality itself, given how little he had personally interacted with the woman. But he knew just enough to fill in the blanks and create a beautiful picture of how he imagined her to be: bookish- an easy assumption given how many times he had caught her in public places absorbed in a book-, kind, generous and delightfully able to hold a grudge and enact revenge when the time came. A bit reckless, and sometimes quick to form opinions, but also quick to revise them. A tactile person, with a great sense of fashion and a carelessness about what was expected of her.

He saw her in his head as clear as day, but little of that image was based on any personal knowledge of her. So, perhaps, he had found in Beauty a fictional substitute, someone he could talk to, and flirt with, without consequences, adopting the persona of someone more confident, more at ease with that sort of thing. The Dark One was comfortable in his skin in a way that he could only pretend to be sometimes. All the money and power he had accumulated over the years had helped him evolve from the spineless, cowardly lad he had once been, but when it came to certain situations, especially those that necessitated a level of vulnerability, he was still hopeless.

Perhaps, he wondered, it was better to think about his online liaison with Beauty as the real thing. They wrote to each other often, in and out of character, and over the course of their correspondence he had confided in her more than he had in any other person alive. Small things at first, every day peeves and details. Nothing that could identify them, certainly, but surprisingly intimate nevertheless. And over time it had grown to stuttering confessions and barings of the soul on both sides. She had told him of her teenage years in a mental asylum, the product of an overwrought widowed father trying to do right by his grieving daughter. He had had a few choice words to say about that, uncharitable thoughts about her father prompting his own willing sharing of the sad story of his childhood, neglectful father and all. It had felt nice, to confide in someone, someone he trusted.

He glanced at her email, where she lamented how their scene had not been as long or as satisfying as she had wanted, and saw she was proposing to meet later in a private stream to finish it the way they had both wanted. She had proposed something similar once or twice before and he had politely declined but now he wondered why not take her up on her offer. What was stopping him? His imaginary idea of Belle French, who in reality had never given him more than a polite smile in passing? Too young, too good, too beautiful to ever see him as anything other than an old cripple? Whatever he had built with Beauty felt infinitely more real, and attainable. A relationship without ever meeting in person seemed ideal in many aspects and, perhaps, if and when it came to meeting in the real world, his physical shortcomings would not be relevant, nor would it his rather uncharitable reputation.

He sent her a quick reply to arrange a meeting, feeling like a bit of roleplaying was, in the end, quite harmless. And if it were to lead to something a bit more meaningful, well, perhaps it was about time.

…

“Water from Lake Nostos. A key ingredient in most powerful potions and even some spells. I’m sure it could prove useful to you.”

The bard showed him the glowing crystal vial hanging from a long chain around her neck, with the glowing milky-white water from the cursed lake in it. He made a move to get closer to inspect it but the woman took a step back, tucking the vial back inside her bodice. The wizard’s eyes lingered there, hiz gaze growing intense. The bard felt her skin flush in response, something that felt a bit like fear but wasn’t running down her spine.

“And I’m sure a new wardrobe could prove useful to you, dearie. You’re practically wearing rags.” Rumplestiltskin made a show of running his eyes up and down her form with just enough disgust in his face to make it seem as if he was only noticing the rather sad state of her dress. 

“It’s my best gown, I’d thank you not to insult it.”

He made a moue of disapproval, shaking his head for good measure.

“You’re far from your days as a princess. I hope seeing the world is worth putting up with your band of idiots that waste most of the gold they earn with your wit in pointless goose chases that you know will lead nowhere.”

Beauty didn’t respond. There was nothing she could say to contradict what he thought of her party, none of which was charitable to say the least. And she also knew that he was aware that all of it was worth the freedom she had won when she had left her life in her father’s castle behind. She did miss one or two things, perhaps. Her mother’s vast library being one and, perhaps, some of the fashions. Not so much the silhouettes- she had never liked how the sea of petticoats she was always forced to wear restricted her movement- but the fabrics and colours, certainly. And the shoes.

“I’m here to make a deal, Dark One. Are you doing business today or not?”

Lesser creatures would’ve rather bitten off their tongues that throw cheek at the Dark One, but Beauty did not even bat an eye, lips curling in a defiant little smile that had the wizard smirking, something like admiration blooming in his chest. It’s what he loved most about his little bard, her spine of steel. And perhaps her blue eyes, but that was neither here nor there.

“I don’t do business with raggedy urchins, dearie. If you want to sit down and negotiate you’ll need a bath.” He made a face, as if he could smell her across the room. “And a change of dress, while I put your current outfit to wash… Or set it on fire, I haven’t decided yet.”

She could tell that he was pulling his punches, that he was playing at being repulsed by her state of dress and hygiene just bad enough that she would see he did not really mean it, not in any real way. She would’ve been able to tell either way, but it was nice that he thought it important to spare her feelings. And she couldn’t deny that a bath sounded heavenly after so many weeks on the road, sleeping out in the open and washing in freezing-cold creeks whenever possible.

“Well, if you insist…”

He took her to a well-lit and spacious bathing chamber, with the biggest copper tub she had ever seen, already filled with warm, soapy water that smelled of vanilla. She wasted no time after the door closed behind him, stripping quickly, careless of her worn and mended garments, and slipping into the tub. It was heaven on her tired muscles, and her dirty skin, and though she would’ve stayed there for hours she knew that every minute spent bathing was a minute less with the Dark One. Their time was limited. If she didn’t return to camp in the morning her party would venture into the castle, likely thinking the most dreadful scenarios. She could picture Charming attempting to kick the front gate open and getting hurt for his troubles. She could not let them worry for her, or risk the rapport she had developed with the Dark One by coming in unannounced. 

She got out of the tub with only a bit of reluctance and found a towel that she was convinced was enchanted to dry her faster than possible. She found clothing laid out in the adjoining dressing room, the undergarments soft and made of pale cream fabric and the dress of a lovely velvety, forest-green fabric, with a belt embroidered in small pearls that matched the detail about the neckline. She put it on gladly, twisting every which way to lace it up at her back. Living a less princessy life had made her acquire a number of small skills, including the ability to dress up mostly by herself even in gowns that did not lace up at the front, like most of her travelling clothes.

She did not spot her mauve travelling dress or her boots, but she was sure that Rumplestiltskin had whisked them away and would subtly mend them with magic, though she was sure he would deny it if she were to point it out. The green dress was accompanied by matching slippers, butter-soft and silent as they touched the stone floor. She made sure to dry her hair out, noticing how it shone red-gold in the flattering light of the candles, and took her time brushing it and styling it out of her face, so it fell flatteringly down her back. Her neck and most of her upper torso was bare but for the chain keeping the vial of water tucked safely against her breasts, the wide neckline of the dress dipping low enough to leave her collarbones bare, but she didn’t mind it. She was inside the Dark Castle, with the Dark One. She was safe there. On the road she always had to think about not attracting unwanted male attention. Here she rather felt like the opposite.

It was a silly infatuation, and many would argue any interest or desire on her part was due to the wizard’s power, which some would say was an aphrodisiac potent enough to make some look past the Dark One’s rather unfortunate exterior. No one would ever believe her if she confessed she rather… liked his appearance. The green-gold skin, the wild hair, the talons, but also the exquisitely-tailored pants and vests, the frothy cravats, the slim coats. A beast and a gentleman. A rather enticing combination, she had found.

She went downstairs into the trophy room once more, where two massive chairs were pulled up next to the roaring fireplace, the main source of light. The Dark One was sitting in one of them, a snifter gingerly held by a clawed hand, containing some sort of brown-gold liquid. He glanced at her the moment she entered the room, unwilling or unable to hide his appreciation for what he saw. He had removed his coat, leaving only his high-collared vest and one of his open shirts to cover his upper body, no forty cravat in sight. He seemed less guarded, more adventurous than he usually was when it came to matters of intimacy.

“You clean up well, dearie. Wish I could say the same for your dress. A wash will only do so much for it, but I refrained from throwing it into the fireplace. You’re welcome.”

“Good, as it’s not your property to destroy.” Beauty sat down, with a poise that betrayed her royal upbringing, and primly crossed her legs at the ankles. “So, Dark One, are you prepared to deal with me now?”

She had dealt with him dozens of times before, she had no idea why it all sounded so much like innuendo now. She couldn’t say she minded it.

“Of course, my dear. I’ve had time to think about our deal whilst you were splashing about in the tub.” His sing-songy voice broke, getting suddenly deeper for a second or two, as if he was struggling to retain his composure. “The vial is certainly a good start, but perhaps not quite enough. Now, I’m prepared to be generous given our long and fruitful history of dealmaking together, but I must also keep up certain appearances. So I thought I would also demand… an evening of your time.”

He tried to make it sound sinister, but she was past getting scared of him. At least in the traditional way. She raised an eyebrow, adopting a rather coquettish expression.

“And what would an evening of my time entail exactly?”

“Oh, well, you know. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

She made a show of thinking it over before offering her hand, which he shook without delay.

“It’s a deal.”

Several hours later she had won two games of chess, one game of checkers, and was sipping from her third coupe of sparkling wine as she listened intently to a story about a deal the Dark One had once made with a king from a distant land. He was a gifted storyteller, engaging and funny, knowing exactly when to pause or gesticulate to keep the flow of the story just right. The king in his tale was rather unfortunate, in the sense that his hubris and arrogance had led him to make a deal with the Dark One that he did not understand. Most of Rumplestiltskin’s deals seemed to be like that, Beauty thought. And when he came to collect people dared be indignant that he demanded what they promised in the first place.

“The king was furious. Never let go of the grudge. Hired several assassins to try and kill me. A waste of gold, of course.”

He let out a trilling laugh, which soon proved to be contagious. Somehow, over time, it felt like their chairs had moved closer, because if she stretched out a hand she could easily touch him. Odd.

“Serves him right, for making such an open-ended deal. What a rookie mistake.”

She didn’t recall removing her slippers but she must have, because her feet were enjoying being pressed against the soft cushion of the chair. He made a gesture for her to lean close, which was a bit of a balancing feat, but she managed. Her heart skipped a bit when he leaned close too, almost pressing his mouth against her ear.

“You have no room to talk, sweet. You struck a very vague deal yourself, committing to an evening of conversation, chess ‘and the like’. That little turn of phrase is an invitation to all manner of sins, even the darkest and most decadent of debaucheries.”

He hissed the last part, making her shiver. Not content with letting him have the upper hand she turned her head so their lips were inches apart.

“That’s what I was hoping for.”

She could tell she had shocked him into inaction. Cocky Dark One, always in control of the conversation, always one step ahead of everyone else. It was nice to see him floundering, to catch him unprepared. Finally he gulped and put a little distance between them.

“Aren’t you the bravest little poppet.”

“My mother always said ‘Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.’ I’m a firm believer of the principle.”

Slowly, almost painfully so, both his hands clutched at the armrests of her chair, effectively pinning her to it. She knew she was supposed to be scared but she felt nothing but excitement, a buzzing just beneath the skin that made her strangely needy for something. Touch, perhaps, or more. The feeling was so overwhelming she did not realise at first that the laces of her dress were coming undone, as if invisible hands were painstakingly pulling them loose. She tried to make eye contact, but he ducked his head, pressing his face against the base of her neck, where it met her shoulder. She sighed, noticing how gentle he was, his touch feather-light, and discovering that she would not mind a rougher treatment. He was restraining himself, she realised, trying to be a gentleman. Sweet, but not what she wanted from him at that moment. Feeling bold Beauty carded a hand through his hair, pressing his face more firmly against her skin.

“Please, Rumple.”

Those two words seemed to have a magic of their own, producing a sudden and radical change in him. He moved too fast for her to see, wrapping her up in his arms and depositing her on the long dining table on the other side of the room. She did not know whether he used magic or simply moved inhumanly fast, but either possibility excited her, reminded her of the power of the creature looming over her, claws tugging at the unlaced bodice of her dress, dragging the velvet down to expose her undergarments. She was wearing the underbust corset he had provided over the snowy linen shift he had also left for her, so it was easy for him to simply tug the shift down a bit to expose her breasts. He leaned forward, nuzzling the space between her breasts, making a sort of satisfied purring noise as he sniffed up her clavicles and down her throat. Then, once he was happy with the level of squirming she was doing, he finally gave her what she wanted, closing his mouth, with all of its sharp teeth, around one of her rosy nipples. It was a strange feeling at first, more unfamiliar than pleasant, but when he began to suck it changed completely, little shocks of pleasure running from her nipple to between her legs. It was amazing, more than she had ever achieved with her own hands whenever she could get some privacy at night, and the feeling doubled when he grasped her untouched breast, his long claws estimulating the other nipple.

She sunk both her hands in his hair, fisting it in an effort to keep herself from squirming too much, feeling both aroused and impatient. She kept waiting for him to tire of her chest and move further down but when he was finally done sucking her nipples his head moved north, his lips blinding searching for hers till they were kissing. It wasn’t anything like any kiss she had experienced before, not even the unpleasant smack her former fiance had forced on her. Though it was just as forceful there was a wild quality to it, one she had never associated with the affectionate gesture. It was heavenly, the release of passion, far from cooling her down, setting her on fire, stoking her need for him till it felt like she would explode if he didn’t give her relief. 

He must have sensed it, her desperation calling to him like a siren song, because at some point he let go of her mouth to travel south, past her aching chest, and velvet-covered belly to where the skirts of her long gown kept her modestly covered. He wasted no time dragging the heavy fabric up, letting it pool around her hips along with the white linen of her shift. She did not have any other undergarments, having not been provided with any, so she was completely exposed to his gaze, from her milky things to her round hips. She squirmed, trying to picture what he must be looking at, the trim thatch of chestnut curls at the apex of her legs, obscenely drenched by this point and making a poor show of trying to hide the pink, glistening flesh beneath.

“What a lovely cunt you have.” His voice was dark, guttural, a monster trying to speak like a man. It thrilled her. “Let me drink from it, precious.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, choosing instead to simply bury his head against her flesh, his tongue rough and wide as it lapped at her field parting them to seek out the bundle of nerves that was throwing for attention. She arched her back, feeling like it was only her firm grip on her thigh and hip what kept her anchored to the table. She fell into a rhythm of sorts, her body seeking out something she could not find but his mouth striving to compensate, to give her what she needed. It was heavenly and seemed to last an eternity, the sensations building up till everything but them faded away, all sensations muted. She felt him move to, thrusting his hips against the edge of the table, making it rattle in a way that spoke of his sheer brute force. It was heady to have someone like Rumplestiltskin, who had always strived to don the mask of a gentleman around her, be so unhinged, so animalistic. More than anything it was that complete loss of control what drove her over the edge. She cried out, feeling her inner muscles coil and her senses spiral out of control, her orgasm leaving her dizzy. It seemed to last forever and not nearly long enough. She laid there for a while after the feeling passed, feeling satisfied and wanting at the same time. A few seconds later he also keened, slumping against her still-parted legs, his hair tickling the soft skin of her inner thighs.

They lay that way for what seemed like ages, while they scrambled to try and collect themselves. The afterglow did not feel awkward or uncomfortable, and it loosened up her tongue enough to venture out that she had hoped for an even more intimate act, a joining that was even deeper than what they had done.

 “A deal for such a prize would have to involve all my deepest secrets, my most valuable truths.” He paused, pressing his forehead against the silky inside of her thigh, like a penitent would. “One day, perhaps.”

...

“Do you want to meet? I think it’s time.”

The orgasm had mellowed him out, otherwise he was sure he would’ve at least panicked a little bit. But in the afterglow of what they had just shared, albeit virtually, a meeting did not seem like such a bad idea. In hushed voices they arranged the time and place, tomorrow at a café and bistro in Boston. Nice and public, for both their safety. They knew both lived near Boston, so it seemed natural to pick the city. The drive wasn’t too bad, and he hoped it wasn’t a great inconvenience to her either.

Reluctantly they said their goodbyes, both trying to prolong the moment a bit more till they were both close to nodding off. With a final, reluctant goodbye they both disconnected, leaving Gold to clean himself up and make his way home. With his rumpled suit, disheveled hair and five o’clock shadow it must have looked like the walk of shame. It certainly didn’t feel that way.

...

He woke up in a happy mood, perhaps the best in a long time. Far from feeling stupid or embarrassed about his little bit of roleplaying-turned-porn-session he felt smug, empowered by the notion that he had made a smart, desirable woman come with only his voice and imagination. He felt like he was on the brink of something, as if an exciting possibility was opening up for him. 

He went about his day with a bit of a spring in his step, though most citizens of Storybrooke would be pressed to notice. It was only when he saw the book on gardening he was due to return to the library that afternoon- his two Moth orchids had developed small water-soaked spots on the leaves and he had wanted to consult some verified sources instead of relying exclusively on Google search results- that his mood dampened somewhat. As nice as last night had been- bloody fantastic rather- it did make him sad, somewhat, to give up his crush on Belle French. However unattainable it was still nice to have it, that bit of feeling that did not need to be reciprocated to be real. It had been nice to feel something for someone for a change, to look forward to each smile and each small conversation. But it wouldn’t be right, and what he had now was more valuable in any case. Perhaps, with time, he would grow out of his infatuation with the librarian and they could be friends. That would be rather lovely.

He crossed the street towards the library around three o’clock, wanting to beat the rush caused by children being let off school, a busy time for one of the only kid-friendly places in Storybrooke. There were some patrons about, and the afternoon light made the library look truly beautiful. Miss French truly worked miracles with her limited budget.

He found her easily, shelving a few books in the poetry section, and tried not to preen when she smiled widely at him.

“Mr Gold, hi! Always a pleasure. Here to return a book?”

The librarian was always sunny and welcoming, but she looked even happier that day, an excited sort of energy practically rolling off of her in waves. Thank goodness he had decided to give up on his silly little crush, otherwise he might have buckled under the power of her brightness. 

“Yes. And you look particularly happy today, Miss French, if I might say so.”

The librarian smiled even more, if possible, and leaned close, as if to tell him a secret.

“I have a date tonight.”

It hurt, the slightest bit, the shock making him take a step back, but less than it would have yesterday. And perhaps, he reasoned, this would be good. This would put them both in the path of becoming friends, allowing him to leave his crush behind much faster. He forced himself to enquire politely after the lucky man, listening as she talked about someone she had been flirting with for a long time now, and it seemed like the relationship was finally ready for the next step.

“I’m really happy. And very nervous. It feels like such a risk, after all this time building something that could easily fizzle out with a first date. But I’ve always believed in doing the brave thing, and bravery will follow. It’s what my mother always said.”

She had turned back to shelve a book as she finished the last sentence, so thankfully she did not see his jaw drop and his eyes widen, his surprise so visible no one could’ve missed it. His heart lurched in his chest, sheer and sudden panic making it difficult to breathe. Fuck. Fuck. It wasn’t possible. Belle was Beauty. Belle was Beauty. He tried to contradict the notion in his head but he had known Beauty’s British accent was passable but fake, and it made sense for him not to have identified her voice when she usually spoke with her natural Australian drawl, something he associated so closely with her. Everything else he had ever found out about Beauty, in and out of the D&D setting, coincided with what he knew, or thought he knew, about the librarian, one of the reasons why he had developed a crush on her in the first place.

The initial shock was followed by a spike of elation and then a sinking feeling of dread. He needed to cancel. She would be disappointed, but more disappointed if he didn’t and she realised her crush was a man a good deal older than her that was known for being the town monster. It would be awkward and she would not be able to escape him after it, both doomed to meet each other often, given the small size of the town. He could not put her through that.

He stopped himself then, noticing the familiar dark turn of his thoughts, dipped in so much self-loathing it was almost stifling. And he wondered if he really was thinking about Belle or about himself. Being a coward, taking the easy way out. He thought about how he had woken up, the world full of promise and the future bright with the possibility of something great on the horizon. And how he had felt brave last night, to leap into something that had been so worth it. Perhaps it was time to be brave more often. Do something, however small. Put the ball in her court, somehow.

“I wish you the best of luck, then. Perhaps some other time, if you’re not too busy, you could pop into my shop. I have a few antique books I feel you would appreciate.”

It was a nice recovery, and he was happy to see her smile, apparently welcoming the proposition. Everyone knew Mr Gold’s shop was only to be entered when making deals. He didn’t really allow idle perusal of his stock and no one had the money or interest to buy his antiques. His business was conducted mostly with people from major cities on the East Coast.

“Wow, an open invitation to traipse into Mr Gold’s shop, that’s not something one sees everyday. What do you want in return? I hear only deals can grant you access to the shop.”

She made sure to make it clear she was joking, something he appreciated. Feeling emboldened by her kind gesture he adopted a slightly higher pitch and replied:

“Oh, nothing much. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

Being close enough he got to see as it dawned on her, as her brain quickly processed what he had said and where she had heard it before. And he knew, knew because of the way she looked at him, as if she did not recognise him, as if he was a brand new person to her, that she understood the implication, what he had meant to tell her without actually telling her. 

“Hope to see you soon, then. Good luck with the date.”

He turned around before he could second-guess himself, feeling terrified by what he had exposed but satisfied at the same time. This way it was Belle’s choice to show up. For all she knew he had no idea that she was Beauty. She could make up an excuse and simply not meet her, and their worlds would never merge. If she did not want to pursue anything between them all she had to do is cancel the date, or not show up. He would respect her decision and never push for anything, or acknowledge their online relationship in the real world.

He sent her an email just as he was about to get into his car, letting her know that he understood that this meeting was a bit of a risk and he would understand if she backed out at the last minute. There were other things he could do in Boston, and he was not adverse to having dinner by himself. And they could still be friends, no matter what she decided. He was halfway to Boston when he heard his cell phone ping, letting him know he had a new email. As he expected, it was from Beauty:

“I’m on my way. Can’t wait to meet you! See you soon.”

He smiled.

[thewritingginger]

Relief

This isn’t a Holiday prompt request, since I have a bunch of other WIPs I thought I would take a break of those and finish up others ones. So there maybe some back and forth, we’ll see :)

This was a request I got on Wattpad on my Alucard Comfort fic a couple months ago and it was mostly done so... I don’t know too much about Hector’s character but I hope I did him some justice. 

Fandom: Castlevania  Pairing: Hector x GN! Reader Word Count: 2,359 words Warning(s): Kinda sad, comforting Hector, fluff

Enjoy ~

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It has been roughly 4 months since you met the white haired man.

The moment you met him you felt the urge to get near him. Although he was beautiful, it wasn’t his high cheekbones or smooth skin that called you. It was the distant look in his blue eyes, an ocean of sadness. You felt his loneliness from across the room in just one glance. You asked for his name and he hesitated for a moment, like he was contemplating whether or not wanted to be seen more than he had been. ‘Hector.’ Is all he responded with, and the gentle sound of his voice made your soul ring. You smiled and introduced yourself.

Surprisingly enough, he talked to you that night at the bar. Nothing too deep, just menial conversation about your interests and places you’ve both traveled to. But in that short time together you knew it was more than just a ‘talk with a stranger at a bar’ situation.

‘We should meet again.’ you said forwardly. Hector’s eyes studied you for a moment, before responding. ‘I guess that wouldn’t be too miserable.’ You smiled, not just at his words but at the glimmer of something in his eyes that didn’t seem to be there before.

3 months into your meetings, you and Hector had gotten more comfortable around each other. Getting accustomed to your daily presence, one afternoon while the two of you were out on a stroll he asked,

‘Would you care to accompany me home?’ Smiling inwardly you respond casually,

‘Sure.’ With one word you continued your journey in silence, observing the world around you. Following his lead you saw in the distance a lone cottage, made of stone with a smoking chimney and a small garden in front filled with small purple flowers and berries.

Opening the door, you are welcomed with a wall of warmth melting off the cold from outside. Entering the quant space you took a moment to look around as he walked into the kitchen. Having taken off your cloak you drape it on the back of a chair, as you took a seat by the fireplace. He emerged with some water for you both and sat across from you.

That night was the start of what you two came to be.

Hector offered his bed to you that evening. In the middle of the night you got up to get some water. Wrapped in a blanket to fend off the crisp air, you see Hector on the couch under a thin blanket. The fire had died out a few hours before, cooling the room significantly. Forgetting the water you circled around him and crouched down in front of his sleeping face. Taking a moment you took in his being. Laying there, defenseless. Completely free of tension -besides the few shivers that raked through his body - clenching the blanket closer to him. You gently nudge his shoulder a bit, making him stir till he woke in a surprised manner. Sitting up, letting out a deep huff.

‘What’s the matter?’ He asked Eyes squinted, trying to focus on your face.

‘Come lay in your bed, with me.’ You said.

‘N-no that isn’t necessary.’ He stutters a bit, taken aback by your request.

‘You’re shivering out here and two bodies are better than one for gaining warmth.’

He sees that you wouldn’t be taking no for an answer. Sighing a bit he stood up and followed you to his room.

The room was dark, the only source of light came from the moon in the sky. Nothing sat in the room but a bed, a trunk and a small desk with a pile of books next to it. The warm bed called your name once again as a chill ran down your spine. Jumping under the sheets as you were before, you looked over to the forgemaster as he tentatively got under the blankets next to you. His back towards you, a big birth - despite the small size of the bed - between the two of you. Sighing a bit you moved closer to him, wrapping your arm around his broad shoulders. You felt his muscles tense a bit from your touch.

A long moment passes. Silence.

He turned around in your loose grip. His eyes bore into yours. Swimming in his gaze you saw his intensity but you also saw fear. Not the kind of fear you have when there's a monster before you. But the fear you feel when presented with a moment that may change everything, uncertain if for the better or worse.

‘You don’t have to be scared.’ You told him with your eyes.

A wave of compulsion washed over you, leaning forward you gently placed your lips against his. Stunning him, but he didn’t pull away. He kissed you back, deepening the kiss between you.

You both knew that this was the beginning of something between you two. A new chapter in both your lives. Uncertainty waved in the air, but neither one of you paid it mind just enjoyed the shared moment of warmth.

From that night onward everyday was filled with adventures and errands and nights spent listening to the sound of his voice. Telling stories about his life before you, as you fell asleep.

~~~

“Is this what it’s like?” He asks. You stop stirring the pot of food to look at him. His question perplexed you. Coming out of nowhere, unsure of what it was pertaining to. Hector is resting in the armchair by the fireplace beside you, book in hand, just staring at you in thought.

“Is what, like this?” You ask with a chuckle as you put the lid on the pot.

Hector looks down running his free hand through the back of his silver locks. His gaze not meeting yours again. You sit on the couch in front of him, waiting for his answer.

“Having a family.”

His three word answer made your heart hurt a bit. Walking over to him you sit on his lap, draping your legs over the arm of the chair. Resting your arm on his shoulder as you gently stroke his hair, looking at the side of his face. His gaze, still not meeting yours. You bring your other hand up to cradle his cheek in your palm slowly drawing his eyes up to yours.

His face painted in embarrassment. Eyes glistening, sadness threatening to seep out.

There’s that look again.

That uncertainty in his cerulean eyes. Debating whether or not he should continue. Biting his lips together he looks down at the space between you. 

“I ask because ~” he paused, taking a deep breath. “I never had a real family.” His words come out in a rough whisper.  “Why do you say it like you’re ashamed?” You ask with a slight laugh. “Because of what I did.” He responds, somberly. You stopped smiling, knowing you can’t laugh him through this one.

This one was serious.

Not unlike the time he told you where he was inside himself after the death of Dracula.

“What do you mean, ‘what you did’?” You asked, hesitantly.

He shakes his head, peeling your hand off his neck. Lifting you off his lap as he stands.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” He says.

Before you can say anything Hector rushes out the front door. Leaving you to stand there, looking at the old wooden door, shocked and saddened by the events that just transpired.

A few hours had passed. The sun had already made its descent from the day and Hector still hasn’t come back.

The cottage was silent, nothing but the cracking of the fire and heavy pants of Cezar. The undead pug, keeping you company in your newly shared bed. Your head rests upon the pillow, stained with drying tears. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ you asked yourself. Turning to Cezar, scratching behind his remaining ear. “What about you Cezar, do you know what happened?” The pug just barks in response. 

‘Well it was worth a shot.’ you thought.

Wrapped in the blankets and Cezar nestled beside your chest, beginning to drift to sleep you hear someone at the front door. Opening your eyes you sit up, waking the pup. That’s when you heard heavy steps coming closer to the door of the bedroom. You turned over, pretending to be asleep as you heard the door creak open.

The mattress, shifting from his weight on the other side.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

“I’ve been too much of a coward to show you all of me. Afraid of what you would think if you knew who I was. Who I am.” His words, a low hum as if he is talking to himself.

You turn over to see his back. His face planted in his palms. Your movements make him freeze.

“You’re awake.” He says. His voice, shaky.

“And you came back.” You said, sounding more surprised than intended.

“Yeah…” He lets out a half-hearted laugh.

There’s that silence again, a long stretch of time as you both hold your breaths.

“I should’ve told you this sooner. That way I wouldn’t have wasted so much of your ti~ ” You cut him off.

“Don’t say that you. You‘ve never even come close to being a waste of time to me.” You say, hoping he believes your words to be true and not just a pretty sentiment  to make him feel better.

Sitting up to prop yourself against your extended arm you say, “Whatever it is I’m sure it’s ~”

“I killed my parents.” He interrupts. Blurting the word out to make himself finally say it. “I-I killed my parents.” He repeats much quieter this time, almost to himself.

You take a second to swallow what he just told you. Fiddling with the sheets in your fingers trying to think of something to say but you don’t know what to say. So you stay quiet.

“It wasn’t out of malice, if that makes it easier for you to look at me.” He says. His words coated in worry.

Worry of what you will say. What you would call him. And most of all what you will do.  

Will you leave him? Like everyone always has. He wouldn’t blame you.

Another moment passes in the tense silence. He sighs in acceptance that you are through. He gets up to leave but you grab his hand from behind. Your soft touch sparked against his skin. Looking down at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“Stay.” Is all you said. Just one word glued a few pieces of his world back together. He sits back down, this time facing you.

“Why? After what I said, why would you want me to stay?” He asks

“Cause you haven’t told me the whole story.” You say.

He looks in your eyes curiously. “Y-you want to know… why does it matter to you?” He questions as he shakes his head slightly.

“Because you said it wasn’t out of malicious intent, so there had to be a reason. Right?” You offer a small curve of your lip.

Looking at you through his lashes. He says a soft “Ok.”

Clearing his throat. Hector then went on to tell you about his home-life as a child, if you could call it that.

The retellings of how his parents would treat him and their greed. The images he painted made your stomach turn a bit.

“At the time I felt I needed to. Like I had no choice.” He says, his words somber.

Reaching out you pull Hector towards you. He willingly falls into your embrace. His head resting on your chest. Soothingly combing your fingers through his silver strands, he holds your free hand in his.

“Even still now I don’t know if I would do anything differently.” He sighs, being thoughtful with his choice of words.

“I have no remorse for what I did.” He lets out an airy chuckle. “Y/n, have I become the very people I grew to despise.? The ones I’ve set my life out to rid the world of?” You think about his question. With confliction rising within you.

“Hector I’m not blind to the fact that you have done less than savory things and others might disagree but…” You pause, retracting your hand from his to guide his chin up to meet your gaze.

“That doesn’t make you a monster.”

Those words rang through his head, pulling a tear from his sockets. Coming from you it was everything he needed at that moment. For years battling with the idea that he is no better than the people who take and hurt others for their own gain, now settles a bit.

He kisses you. The idea that you were just being gentle with him didn’t go unthought about, but that didn’t matter to him. What did matter was you. Someone in his life that wants to be there. What did he do to deserve such a blessing? Was it by chance? And if so, will is this only be a fleeting moment in both your lives. Here one minute and gone the next?

Or could it be the stars aligned. Some cosmic deity put you together knowing he needed someone. Needed you.

Whatever it is, whatever put you in his arms. He couldn’t think of anything else but, “Thank you.” He says. Tears stinging his eyes. Looking up at you with his tear stained cheeks, his large hand cupping your cheek.

“Thank you.”

Those being the only two words he could speak. Saying them like a prayer. Leaning forward you connect your lips to his. The wetness of his cheeks touch yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him closer.

You fall back to the matters. He hovers above you, his fingers playing with your soft locks. His eyes looking at you with certainty. Certainty that you are real. That you will love him. And that you will be his forever.

In that comfortable silence he lays his head against your chest once again. Your fingers stroking his hair as he listens to the steady tempo of your heart beat and drifts to sleep.

Peacefully~. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you enjoyed reading this lovelies :3

💛 ~

MASTERLIST

[all-about-remadora]

200 followers!

So here’s a list of One shots for celebrate✨

Everyone Deserves A Someone by LoquaciousLupin

With nothing better to do during the holidays at Grimmauld Place, Hermione and Ginny wonder whether their former Professor has a special someone - with no other ideas, they do the only thing they can and ask him. With a little help from Tonks, Remus answers their questions as honestly... as he can. Remus and Tonks fluff.

A Beautiful Tune by SweetDeamon

I'm...not coming." he said, reaching to shove his hands deep into his pockets. "On the mission. With you." Tonks stared at him in confusion. "Why not?" she asked, grip upon the cloak in her hand going limp. Remus struggled to come up with a convincing lie. "Because I...I..." Because I'm dying. Because you've struck me dead in the heart.

The Unspeakable Girl by SweetDeamon

"She makes me feel so on top of this world that I wish I'd never been born into it in the first place! So I can't stand to talk about her, Dad! I simply can't!" In which Remus Lupin visits his father and confesses something quite extraordinary. Based on information from POTTERMORE. Consider yourselves warned. RLNT.

The Future's Not Ours To See by Gilpin

Remus Lupin has a lot on his mind; his current undertaking for the Order of the Phoenix, and how to obtain questionable potions from an unhelpful Apothecary owner. Can he bring both to a satisfactory conclusion?

Rhapsody in Blue by copperbadg

Remus has decided it's time to cure Tonks of her awkwardness, the only way he knows how.

Kissing It Better by Lady Bracknell

On her first date with Remus, Tonks discovers that spilt beer on wooden floors is the enemy of the less than surefooted everywhere. Will she die of embarrassment, or will Remus find a way to make it all better?

Kiss and tell by Lady Bracknell

For all his supposed genius, Sirius Black had always had rather a blind spot for the patently obvious.

What To Make Of Him by Lady Bracknell

Neither Ted nor Andromeda know quite what to make of their daughter's boyfriend. Can he win them round over Sunday lunch?

On First Impressions by  cafei-au-lei

"'You know,' Sirius said, 'it's kind of funny. For someone who thinks Remus is so annoying, you sure can't seem to stop talking about him.'" A series of moments in Remus and Tonks' developing relationship as they get to know each other and learn that maybe first impressions aren't necessarily everything. OOTP. Fluffy oneshot.

The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors by cafei-au-lei

The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors, or: the ladies indulge in some firewhiskey and gossip. Sirius and Remus stumble upon a game they're not sure they want to be privy to (okay, maybe Sirius does.) The results lead to some necessary conversation and introspection for a few of the parties involved. Oneshot.

The Talk, Or: The (Lighthearted) Trauma of Teddy R Lupin by cafei-au-lei

Teddy knew when Dad brought out the firewhiskey that something was suspicious. Then again, maybe he wasn't giving Dad enough credit for being the cool parent. AU. Remus and Tonks survive to raise their son and give him The Dreaded Talk. Oneshot.

Movement by MrsTater

Things appear to have changed. One shot, RLNT

Retrograde by MrsTater

Sequel to Movement: Tonks strongly suspected, though she hadn't much experience, that it wasn't normal for adults who fancied other adults to do what she was doing now.

Kernels by MrsTater

A Transfigured Hearts outtake: a cosy night in with Remus takes an unexpected turn when popcorn finds its way into odd places and leads Tonks to make an important discovery.

Party till the wolf comes by MrsTater

Fatherhood doesn't send Remus on a pub crawl, but announcing the birth of his son to his closest friends turns out to be the next best thing.

Overheard by MrsTater

Sirius tries to play matchmaker for an ambivalent Remus and Tonks, but when everyone keeps overhearing everyone else's conversations, things get a little complicated as shapeshifters prove to be anything but predictable... Updated Sept 3, 2007

The Honeymooners by MrsTater

Two years after their wedding, Remus and Tonks finally make it on their honeymoon. But now they've got something they didn't when they first married, will they be able to stop thinking about it long enough to enjoy themselves? AU

A Conversation That’s Not About Veela by starfishstar

Harry and Professor Lupin talk about women, and other things. During Christmas of HBP. (A gen story, but with very strong hints of Remus/Tonks and Harry/Ginny.)

Sleeping by starfishstar

Tonks sleeps; Remus muses

Precisely What I Mean by starfishstar

Remus with Teddy was easily the sweetest thing Tonks had ever seen. It seemed Remus couldn't ever hold Teddy without gazing down at his son with a huge, helpless, delighted grin. "Don't your cheeks ever get tired?" Tonks couldn't help teasing him once, and he'd glanced up, bewildered by the question – he didn't even realise he was doing it.

A Slow and Stopping Curve by aegle

Concerning Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Set during Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince.

St. Margaret's by aegle

Remus, Tonks, a Muggle automobile, and a slightly disappointing beach adventure

On Bethlehem Down by aegle

Remus Lupin finds himself at Nymphadora Tonks' flat on Christmas Eve, 1996

The poem which i do not write by aegle

So, it has come to London with them, whatever it is.

The Watch by Sirussly

He'd grown so used to her endless chatter and relentless questions, a burning ball of energy with a laugh like her mother's. Some nights Tonks would listen to him instead, to stories of war and the price one pays for being a soldier in the middle of it. Occasionally neither of them would speak, but once her hand found his and stayed there until the sunrise coloured the sky.

Flame by Eat a Taco

It's strange what the soft light of a candle can do to someone.RLNT, sometime during HBP

Cover Me by Maggiemaye

Remus and Tonks embark on a mission that tests their well-established partnership to its limits. Even while surrounded by Death Eaters hidden in plain sight, they find that their greatest threats may come from within.

Expecto Patronum by Shimotsuki

Remus and Tonks have dinner at the Potters' after seeing Teddy off on the Hogwarts Express. James and Al are full of questions, including one that not even Harry knows the answer to.

Meet the Reindeer by SweetDeamon 

Nothing untoward had happened since Teddy had arrived home from Hogwarts for the holidays this year. So far there had been no manically jingling elves, no traumatised Santa Claus, no mass snowball fights, no exploding cans of fake snow and as of yet nothing had come hurtling down the chimney or splattered anything or anybody with ammunition of the culinary kind. So far. RLNT AU.

Meet the Teacher by SweetDeamon 

In which Remus and Dora receive word from Hogwarts that their son's homework has been completed in a far from satisfactory manner. The subject? Defence Against the Dark Arts. The topic? Werewolves. They've been expecting trouble since the beginning of term...but who feels less prepared? Teddy's parents or Teddy's teacher? Neville has a hunch... AU. RLNT. Rated for mild language.

A Study In Pink by SweetDeamon 

"He isn't entirely sure how it is that a certain pink haired witch came to be lying snugly in the bed beside him yet again, or indeed why such a thing had ever occurred the first time around..." RLNT.

A Piece of Cake by SweetDeamon 

"How long does it take to make a bloody sponge cake!" "You can't rush art, Sirius." Tonks attempts to bake Remus a birthday cake. "Attempts to" being the key phrase here... RLNT. Happy Birthday Gelly Bean!

The Christmas Waltz by Lady Bracknell 

As Christmas approaches, Remus and Tonks dance around the idea of togetherness, wondering if either of them is leading, or know where they're going at all.

Mistletoe and Wine by Lady Bracknell 

Remus falls foul of the mistletoe. Twice. RL/LP, RL/NT, LP/JP, rated for language.

Afraid of the Dark by Lady Bracknell 

Remus had always been ill at ease in the forest, but when a mission for Dumbledore sends him into the heart of the place with Tonks by his side, he finds his apprehension harder than usual to shake off.

The Luck of the Draw by Lady Bracknell 

She sits on the carpet, shuffles the cards, then deals them out. She came here with the hope of forcing the issue, because she just knows they shouldn't be about can't and won't.

Chione by: cafei-au-lei

Remus has confirmation that Tonks may return his feelings - now all that's left is to decide what to do with this rather exciting and terrifying information. And although it's been a strange year, this year's Christmas could shape up to be one of the best Remus has ever had. Takes place after "The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors." RLNT OotP holiday fluff.

The First Night by: cafei-au-lei 

Most major events in Remus' life have done nothing but reinforce the crushing inevitability of his condition and the life that it has condemned him to. But maybe there is hope to be had, after all.

amare by: cafei-au-lei 

At first, the idea that Tonks and Professor Lupin could be together was equal parts baffling and absurd. But then, maybe it did make a tiny bit of sense, Ginny thought, as she watched the way Professor Lupin looked at Tonks over the breakfast table. But she still couldn't help but think that this love and relationships thing was far too complicated. RLNT.

War Baby by MrsTater 

It's time for Teddy's first outing, and for Tonks to make peace with a noble great idiot. Set during Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Perchance To Dream by: MrsTater

A dream leads to an argument and an unexpected quest to seek out the meaning. Will Remus and Tonks kiss and make up? More importantly, who will come out on top? RLNT, Deathly Hallows, Mature.

Like a Cat in the Sun by starfishstar 

Remus is in a house full of women.

[polin-erospsyche]

The prompt number 16 is quite interesting lol 16. “Control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” Choose the ship/character you like :)

Hello! Ok, there are literally zero reasons as to why it took me a year to write this bloody thing except maybe that I had some not fun moments and also this literally never could have been written if I hadn’t waited this long. I don’t know if you’ll read it. You’ve probably forgotten about this in all fairness but if you do read it I hope you like it. 

Also taking this opportunity to thank everyone for following me. I’m at 400 followers! This is insane. I’m not sure why you’re all following tbh but to celebrate I forced myself to finish this long overdue fic, hope you like it! Also disclaimer: I love all of the characters from TLH. I am aware of the existing debate around Matthew and Alastair and my writing in here does not represent my point of view. But I I decided to represent Matthew and his view in this way for story telling purpose. Please don’t come at me with gun blazing. If you do wanna talk, we can, but in peace 😊💕

Somewhere Where Our Shadows Meet, It Feels Like Coming Home - 

a Fairdale one-shot (is that even their brotp name???) 

This was the fifth time James was rereading the passage of the book he had picked up. It was no use. Each time he finished the page he had already forgotten the beginning. His mind was foggy with a multitude of thoughts. Thoughts about Lucie and her strange dalliance with a boy who used to be a ghost, about Grace which inevitably led to unsolicited questions on his own identity, and, as much as he tried not to think about it, thoughts of Matthew and Cordelia. He really did not enjoy these last kinds of thoughts. He couldn’t help but imagine what kind of relationship could have blossomed between the two during their trip to Paris. He knew how Matthew felt, but when it came to Cordelia, he had no single clue. He constantly wondered as to whether she hated or loved him. Daring to hope that he hadn’t ruined everything. Just for that hope to vanish the next second because there was no possible way he did not ruin it. And even if ever decided to ask her, he would have no idea how to approach the topic without sounding like an arrogant bastard.  

James let out a long breath, rolling his shoulders, trying to let go of the tension. He was pretty sure that if he ventured to look at himself in the mirror that was hung above the chimney, he would see huge dark circles beneath his eyes. Circles which color could rival the color of London’s night sky. A result of many nights plagued by bad dreams and worry. During some of those sleepless nights, James had gone to Cordelia’s room. The first time it was under the pretext of looking for books. Her room had been full of her personal belongings. A bottle of perfume on her vanity table, an evening dress carefully laid out on the chaise longue, a copy of Majun and Layla on her bedside table. So many little pieces of who Cordelia was scattered in a room she had run away from. She hadn’t been back to Curzon street since that night. Upon arriving in London, she had decided to move back with her mother using the excuse of the soon-to-be new baby’s arrival. James kept going to her home though, eventually admitting to himself that he did so because of the smell of Jasmin that lingered. It was the closest thing he had to a semblance of her presence in the house. It was a soft smell that grounded him. It was also a heady smell that reminded him of the sweetness he had lost.

He shook himself out of thoughts of her. Something he had gotten quite good at to be fair, considering how many times he thought of her in the span of a day. Pushing himself up from the table he was leaning against, he closed the book he was reading, giving up on understanding it, and made his way to the window. Outside the sky was tinged in pastel colors drawing the day to a close. James would slowly make his way back home. He would rehash the day, come up with new plans to wake his sister from her deep sleep, find out that these plans would fail again come morning, and finally decide that he would need to eat a bite because going to bed with an empty stomach was just not advisable. His parents had offered for him to stay at the Institute with them but James had refused. He preferred the calm and silence of Curzon Street. He found that the bittersweet cloak that covered his house was, in some ways, almost reassuring. Maybe he was going insane. Just when he was ready to go bid his goodnight to his family, he heard the doors of the library open wide behind him and slammed shut again.

“Did you know?” Matthew growled. James might have thought that he himself had gone slightly deranged chasing down the smell of Jasmin throughout his home, but at least he did not look half as unhinged as Matthew looked right this instant. Matthew’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated, and his fist clenched so tight his knuckles were turning white.

“Are you alright?” James asked, keeping an even tone.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?”

Matthew took a few strides in James’ direction. His stare holding James’ gaze in place as if daring James to contrary him. “Did you know about Thomas?”

“Um yes,” James nodded, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I do know Thomas.” At that Matthew narrowed his eyes and almost seemed as if he was trying hard not to grind his teeth. Noted. Attempts at humor and alleviating the situation were not going to work. “What about him?” James tried again. His smile replaced by a serious gaze.

“Did you know about Alastair?” Matthew asked, almost spatting out Alastair’s name.

James took a few steps back, reinstating the much-needed personal space for such a conversation. James did know about Alastair, but only because Thomas had looked so miserable and James had pried so insistently that Thomas had had no choice but to give up his well-kept secret. James had understood, sometimes you couldn’t choose who you fell in love with. Sometimes you fell in love with something that only you saw in the other person. Love was usually shrouded in mystery this way, best not to question how it worked. Obviously, by the look of things, Matthew did not agree.

“Please sit down,” James pointed to one of the green velvet armchairs. “I’ll pour you a drink.” James said, making his way to the stash of liquor in one of the dark wooden commodes. James had always wondered what kind of people, for what kind of situation kept alcohol in the library of all rooms. It always seemed to him that a secret stash of tea would have been more appropriate. Now he understood what kind of situation required people to put alcohol in every room, even if it was just one abandoned bottle of Parkmore. “Is Whiskey alright?” James turned his head in Matthew’s direction.

“So you knew?” Matthew answered, seemingly in a staring competition with the mustard yellow wallpaper in front of him. “He told you?”

Whiskey it would be for a total lack of all other present choices James thought as he started to pour a glass.

Matthew kept going on his verbal onslaught towards the wallpaper. In all fairness mustard yellow was a color that could potentially enrage everyone. “How can he? It’s Alastair that we are talking about. It’s not as if there wasn’t any other man in London that Thomas couldn’t have a fling for.”

James very much doubted that a fling could start to describe Thomas’s feelings for Alastair. However, seeing how Matthew was nearly spitting out every single one of his words, he thought it safer not to share this piece of information.

“Matthew, please calm down and control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” James handed the glass to Matthew, which he waved away.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink.”

James squinted. “Since when?”

“Since Paris.”

James couldn’t help but feel a pinch in his chest at the mention of Paris. Paris city of lights, city of lovers. An escape his friend had taken with the only girl James had ever, truly, loved since he was barely old enough to understand the concept. It was a wondrous thing how much pain a single word could hold.

“What a strange place to decide to stop drinking.” James took a sip of the honey-colored liquid, trying to hide his hurt to the best of his ability.

“Cordelia asked me to. That was her condition for coming with me.”

James did not want to go in the general direction of a conversation that involved Cordelia. Especially not if that conversation was with Matthew. He had written a letter. James had understood. He slightly had the urge to strangle his best friend for going with her; for loving her; he did not quite know. But that was it. They hadn’t spoken of Paris nor of Cordelia together and that was for the best. Neutral conversations were for the best, they could avoid the hurt and the blame, and if James let it come to that again who knew what would be next. Yet he couldn’t help but ask.

“Why did you leave?”

Matthew turned to James, his anger receding ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” A beat, a choice to either keep going or retreat before it is too late. A beat, a choice to see where this could go “why did you go to Paris?”

“You owe me an answer first. Did you know about Alastair?”

“Yes.”  

“How could you not tell me?”

“You weren’t here Matthew.” James’ voice almost broke, almost. “How was I supposed to tell you anything?”

James had wanted to throw so much more at Matthew’s face. Throw words that he wouldn’t be able to take back. He had been feeling so alone. So utterly lost after Grace’s admission. After Cordelia’s departure. He had needed his best friend. He had wanted to tell him so much, to figure it all out with him. To have Matthew hold him at times when he didn’t know if he could hold it up together and tell him, simply, that he believed in him. But Matthew hadn’t been in London. He had been in Paris. Happy. With Cordelia.

“And you accept it?” Matthew asked, carefully studying James.

“I guess it depends on what we are talking about. In any case,” James turned away from the fireplace to look at his friend. “why are you so against it if it makes Thomas happy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because Alastair doesn’t deserve to be loved?”

“Maybe it is more about deserving a second chance rather than deserving of love. Maybe it is about getting a chance to fix your mistakes. Surely no one is worthless of that.”

“Sometimes the mistakes are too big to fix.” Matthew shrugged, breaking eye contact.

“Is that why you ran away?” The question was asked so softly as if asked any louder and James would be terrified to see Matthew run away again. James wasn’t sure he could bear it, no matter how much frustration towards Matthew he still felt.  

“I didn’t run.” Matthew shook his head. His gaze far and distant as if in another land, in a shadow realm. “I took a train, there’s a difference. And I left because of Cordelia.”

James had an inkling he hadn’t left because of Cordelia but rather Cordelia had followed in a desperate pursuit to drown both of their sorrows in the glamour of a city like Paris. After all, Paris was so similar to Matthew, it was no wonder he had chosen it. At the surface, both were golden and shining like a polished jewel box. Once that jewel box was open, however, shadows, pain, and sadness would pour out like a damn breaking loose.

“I never thought you’d try to run away from me.” James knelt in front of Matthew, his knees landing on the soft midnight blue carpet. “That one day, I’d become a part of the shadows that you try to outrun.”

Matthew turned around so fast and reached for James’ face. His green eyes were darker than usual. “You’re not my shadows, Jamie Bach. You’re my home. You are the reason why I still believe I’m worth being forgiven for.” He said those words like a damned man dying for a confession, following blindly a faith he held so dear to his heart, hoping that that faith could be his saving grace. James understood that he had become that faith.

“Forgiven for what?” James asked.  

“I can’t tell you.”

“It’s me, Matthew. What is so bad that you cannot tell me?”

“I can’t tell you because I’m afraid. I need you to stay with me. I need you to believe that I am good, even if it means that you believe in a lie.”

“Matthew …”

“If you keep choosing me and believing in me,” Matthew interrupted. If he couldn’t finish now, he never would. “then maybe I can believe that I am no monster.”

“You are not a monster, you are my parabatai.”

James felt like they were back on that bridge, at night, so close to being let in in Matthew’s secrets. Back then James hadn’t been in control of himself, he hadn’t known what was happening to him. He had lost his chance. It would not happen again. It could not happen again. James was so tired of walking a frayed rope line with Matthew, guessing at hinted truths. Being someone’s constant north took work and time and effort but because it was Matthew, James could do it. He would always do it and he needed Matthew to know that as clearly as they both knew that one day would come when they would both cross the other side together. Because after all, that was what it had always been about. Despite shadows and lies and deceptions and miscommunication, they would always be together. So James continued.  

“Do you know what that means? It means that I made a promise to you. I said entreat me not to leave thee, for wither thou goest, I will go. If aught but death part thee and me. I will not leave. No matter what you’ve done, I will stand by you, because that is the choice that I have made. That I still make. There is not a thing in this world that you could have done that would make me stop loving you, calon fy enaid.”

Matthew looked up at James and teased “Does that mean that you accept my feelings for Cordelia?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I must say, I don’t think I’m her type. It’s a pity, really.” Some strands of Matthew’s hair fell in his eyes as he shook his head. James could see the old Matthew again. The carefree one that balanced out his own shadows so well. The one he would choose and forgive a thousand times over because he too was his home.

“Matthew.”

“All right, all right.” Matthew threw his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. “I just … wish you could promise that I would not lose you.”

“I promise.”

“You can’t promise something you don’t know.” Matthew said before he started to talk about his own misbeliefs that had led to a terrible accident. James listened and did not judge and stayed long in the night after Matthew had said everything that had weighted so heavy on his heart for so long. And somewhere, under the warm light of oil lamps and next to a warm fire, the frayed rope between the two started to mend and James could only describe the feeling as one of coming home.  

Tag List: @lady-ofroses @clockworknights @the-axewielding-herondale @tess-the-dreamer @coloandreablog

Do let me know if you want to be on the tag list and I’ll happily add you! (I have a tag list now visibly, wild and mind-blown) I will try to post more now that my exams are somewhat done. Who am I kidding? There will always be more stuff to do XD

[halcyonstorm]

Ahhh my final submission for LH drabble week: Angst Monday (yes i posted it on a tuesday)! Please enjoy and comment your thoughts and feedback. @levihan-drabbles

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë Characters: Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoë Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Shingeki no Kyojin Chapter 126: Pride Spoilers, Shingeki no Kyojin Chapter 126: Pride, Shingeki no Kyojin Chapter 132: Wings of Freedom Spoilers, Angst and Feels, right person wrong time, What-If Series: Part 8 of Short Fics Summary:

They just wanted an ending.

The sound of the shotgun rang in Hange’s ears as she shot two of her ex-soldiers dead, tears trickling down her face. She hated that it had to end up like this. She had known them personally, too. The whole world was against them. She took a deep sigh. After surveying the forest and deeming it safe, she returned back to Levi’s side. He was unconscious with Hange’s Survey Corps cloak wrapped around his face. Her heart ached when she started unraveling the cloak, exposing his injured, tainted face. The biggest scar ran from the top of his forehead, through his right eye, into his cheek. She felt herself get overwhelmed seeing him in this shape.

“The pursuers are all gone, Levi…” It’s safe, for now, she wanted to say. You’re safe with me. She knew this was temporary, though. They would never truly be safe again.

-

Hange had begun to set up camp. She pitched a tent, chopped at trees and gathered sticks to start a fire and was able to clean Levi’s wounds and body. He could develop an infection if she didn’t act fast. After all, she wasn’t sure how long he’d been face down in the mud unconscious. She started with his hand, using a wet cloth to clean the dirt as gently as she possibly could. Then, she wrapped his exposed wound, starting at his wrist and weaving the bandage around the empty space on his hand. She brought his hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on top. It broke her heart to see him in such critical condition.

After his hand, she tended to his face. She dampened her cloth in the basin of water, slowly and gently caressing his face to clean off the dirt and mud. She took this moment to indulge in admiring him. He looked peaceful, at least for that moment. She brushed his raven black hair out of his face, patting his gash with the cloth, blood crusted on the scar. His skin was smooth as she couldn’t resist the urge to touch his cheek with the back of her hand. His eyelashes were long and straight which she never noticed before. She had never been this close to him before. She made her way down his face to his lips. She dunked the cloth in the basin again, wringing it out, and then dabbed at his lips to cleanse them. As she cleaned him, she felt tears well up in her eyes. 

“The fact that you're still alive with these wounds is because you’re an Ackerman,” she determined, starting to sterilize her needles in the fire. She grabbed the thread and started to stitch his face. She was careful, making sure to only go as deep as she needed to avoid causing more pain. Her heart throbbed in her chest when she imagined how much pain he was in. I wish it were me instead. She thought. After carefully poking and prodding at his face, stitching him up as well as she could, she dumped her tools into a pot of boiling water to be cleansed. She ran a hand through her hair, gripping a chunk of it and squeezing, tempted to pull it out. She felt like she was going to explode. After everything her and Eren had been through, he still turned his back on her and her soldiers. Rage boiled up inside her, poisoning every cell in her body. 

Why couldn’t things be different? She’d ask herself.

“I’d rather the two of us just live here. Right, Levi?” She said softly aloud, turning to look at Levi’s unconscious face. Her selfish ideas spilled from her mouth and into the ears of her partner. She truly wanted to live with him. She wanted a life with him. She wanted to wake up with him every morning, make him tea, explore the forest, forget about the shitty world they were born into for even just a moment. She was grateful he was unconscious and couldn’t hear her. She allowed the tears to flow for just a brief period. No one was around, she was safe to let it go. Her exhale was shaky as her throat tightened. She blinked and hot tears came rushing down. She covered her face with her hands, allowing herself to cry. Not just cry… to sob. Her heart felt as if it was being torn apart strand by strand. Like someone physically shoved their hands inside her chest, pulling it apart. She felt a strong urge to scream, but she covered her mouth tightly with her hand, allowing a few moans to escape.

All she wanted was peace. She wanted all the suffering to end. She wanted Levi to be healthy and happy. She wanted to explore the world with him, try new things with him. There was so much she wanted to do couldn’t, and she knew that. When she joined the Survey Corps, she knew what she signed up for. She wasn’t afraid to die for the cause, but she just wanted Levi to be happy. She knew how deeply he had suffered. He lost his mother, Isabel, Farlan, Gunther, Eld, Petra, Oulo, Mike, Erwin, and countless more soldiers. She would do everything in her power to make him happy and not just survive but to truly live.

Later that evening, she began to work on building the cart to carry Levi. She contemplated carrying him on her back, but it was unrealistic. She was strong, but not strong enough to carry him for possibly days on end. She was working on hammering a nail into the wheel when there was a crash of lightning. Suddenly, she was knelt in soft, white sand. The sky shone turquoise behind her. She placed her makeshift hammer down, leaving an imprint on the sand. She put her hands on the ground to help her stand up. That is where she saw a familiar tall man with his dark brown hair tied in a knot. He was facing away from her, sitting in the sand with his knees to his chest. She slowly walked up to him, sand filling her shoes.

“Eren?” The man turned his head to face Hange. She is hesitant to sit down, but he waves her over to him.

“Hange-san,” he began. “I am sorry for everything.”

“Wh… What are you talking about?”

“You’re going to die soon,” he admitted, drawing circles in the sand. “Levi will try to stop you, but you can’t let him.”

“I don’t understand… how do you know all this?”

“This is all a part of my plan to eradicate the Titans…” he muttered. “But I am sorry it has to end this way. I know how much you and Levi care for each other. It will be painful, I will admit. But it is for a good cause.” 

Hange shook her head in confusion. “What the hell? What will happen to Levi? Isn’t there another way?”

“No… There's no other way. Levi will be survive in the end. Don’t worry about that.” He had already made up his mind. “I am sorry. Go inside. Levi is waiting for you.” As Eren spoke, he pointed into the distance. Suddenly, they weren’t in the sand staring at the turquoise sky anymore. They were in a similar forest with tall pine trees. There was a small cabin with smoke exiting through the chimney. The cabin looked like it was something Hange and Levi could’ve made themselves. She opened the door hesitantly to find Levi sitting in the rocking chair, a cup of hot tea in his hand. 

“Hange, you’re home,” Levi said, pleasantly surprised. She noticed his scar was present, clean and healed. He didn’t wear an eyepatch like she did. His right eye was white and cloudy. He stood up slowly, placed his tea cup in the tea dish, and walked towards her. She was able to admire his outfit. He wasn’t in his military gear, but in a beige sweater and grey trousers. He looked comfortable and at peace, which is what Hange always wanted for him. She was at a loss for words.

“What is this?” 

“This is the most I can give you, Hange-san. A life with Levi.” She felt tears well up in her eyes. “I can let you stay here a little while longer.” Eren disappeared when she looked back to where she heard his voice. She looked at Levi, placing her hands on his cheeks. Levi’s lips curled into a small, sad smile.

“Look at our house, Hange,” he said, gesturing towards the center of the room. She looked away from him to admire the house. Their house. It was very cozy: it had two large burgundy sofas against the back and right wall, a fireplace in the center of the living room which had fierce flames. Levi led her to the kitchen and dining room. The kitchen had off-white square tiles as the floor and wooden cabinets, as well as a stove. There was a wooden table with two chairs. It made Hange’s heart swell, even bringing tears to her eyes. They did get to live together in another life.

“Levi…” she whimpered, looking at him again. He grabbed her hand, interlocking their fingers.

“We’ll be here again, one day…” Levi said. Suddenly, she felt a breeze flow through her hair. Then, the house started to fade into nothingness and blow away. Levi was the last to disappear. Hange felt herself reaching out and grasping for him, begging him to come back. 

Then, she was back to reality; hammer in hand, arm in the air, ready to swing.

What just happened? She asked herself. She felt as if she had taken a long nap, dreaming of a place so distant. She swore she had a dream, but it was long forgotten, deep in her unconscious mind. A tear was streaming down her face, her heart pounding in her chest, as if she just woke up from a nightmare.

“Don’t tell me… Eren… the world…” she muttered. The words came spewing out of her mouth for a reason unknown to her. “LEVI!” She turned to look at her partner only to find out he’d woken up. He was attempting to sit up.

“That damned beast titan…” he groaned, pain overwhelming him. 

“You don’t need to get up,” Hange insisted, placing her hands gently on his chest. He eased back to his previous supine position. “What happened?” He briefly explained what happened, how Zeke was prepared to die for the cause. Hange sighed. She could barely handle the thought of what happened. She did hear the thunder spear go off, after all… She felt guilt tug at her damaged heart. Maybe she could’ve prevented it.

“I know you’re full of regret, but for now…” She was interrupted.

“What's left if we run and hide like this?” Levi asked, looking her in the eyes so fiercely she couldn’t look away.  She felt her face turn red and hot.

“So, you heard my soliloquy, huh…” She mustered up the strength to look away. She was embarrassed, but then she realized he didn’t reject her. He said ‘what if we run away and hide like this?’ Him, her, together. He looked past her shoulder.

“What is that? Are you planning to pull me by horse? I know you, you aren’t able to stay out of the action…” She noticed his eyes were starting to appear wet… was he tearing up?

“That’s right. I can’t.” Hange sighed, looking into her lap.

The two knew what was to come; Hange and Levi knew what was coming from the moment they joined the Survey Corps. Duty first. Love second. They yearned to be together, but they knew that they had met each other at the worst time. Perhaps in another life, they would find peace. They would find freedom from this terrible world and find comfort in each other. They just wanted an ending. An ending to the war, an ending to the suppression of true emotions, an ending to the strain on their hearts since the first day of joining the military. They didn’t care where or how, as long as it was an ending together.