#but PLEASE BE AWARE THAT THERE'S PARTS OF THE MAP THAT YOU MIGHT FALL STRAIGHT THROUGH even if it looks solid please be careful 😅

[arthursfuckinghat]

¡Saludos desde México!

Greetings from Mexico! 1/2

[sunnyville36]

Mamihlapinatapai {part 5}

I am so excited to share the last part of this story with you.  It means so much to me to be able to share my work and have people enjoy it, so thank you to everyone who has read this little fic.  Huge shout out to the extremely talented @fizzydrink698 for being an inspiration to my writing and an all-around sweet and supportive human.  And the biggest thank you of all to my beta reader, @harry-on-broadway, for being the most encouraging and wonderful friend, without whom I never would have had the confidence to write this, let alone put it out into the world. 💜

Hope you enjoy the finale of Mamihlapinatapai.

Need to catch up? {overview} {part 1} {part 2} {part 3} {part 4}

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Themes: royal au, medieval au, court intrigue, arranged marriage, original characters, mutual pining, slow burn

Warnings: smut, emotionally abusive parents, usage of degrading names

Rating: Mature

Word count: 6k

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As Soft As Petals  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

It was late into the evening, maybe even so late it was actually early, and you were standing outside the prince’s door, frantically knocking on it.

“Y/n, what’s happened?!  Is everything alright?”

You walked straight into the room, not even bothering to wait for Chan to invite you in.

“It’s my mother.  I can’t find her anywhere.  I assumed she went with a separate wagon party the way she came when we left Lajor, but everyone in the servants’ quarters says they haven’t seen her in hours and I’ve looked everywhere I can think of and - “

“Shh, shh, Y/n calm down, it’s alright,” Chan said, taking your hands in his.  You were full on hyperventilating at this point, your body starting to physically shake with worry.

“I-I just… these past few weeks I almost lost you and then we almost went to war and I can’t handle not knowing where she is.  I just can’t imagine what I’d do if she - ” your voice caught in your throat, unable to bring yourself to say your worst fear.

“I know, I know, but it’s going to be alright,” Chan soothed.  “I’m sure she’s fine and we’ll find her, but you are in no state now to continue looking for her.  Why don’t I ask a few of the guards to keep searching the palace grounds, and I’ll send a rider to Lajor to make sure she would have made it back with us?”

You looked up at him.  “You would do that?”

“Of course, Y/n, this is your mother we’re talking about.  We’ll do everything we need to until you know she’s safe,” he said, guiding you gently with him towards the door, knowing you wouldn’t want to let go of his hand based on the vice-like grip you currently had on it.  He leaned his head out into the hallway, calling for one of the guards stationed at the end and relaying what he wanted done to continue the search for your mother.  All the while you were watching him with an expression of awe and gratitude.  It still surprised you, how he seemed to know exactly what you needed, and even more so that he was willing to do whatever it took to do it for you.  He walked you back into the room, taking the both of you to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Thank you,” you breathed out, still catching your breath from your moment of distress.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said gently, leaning down, his lips ever so slightly grazing the crown of your head.

You felt a shiver run through you.

“Your Highness,” you lifted your head to say something, hoping to avoid talking about what he had just done, but were stopped in your tracks by the look on his face.

“I was actually hoping to see you tonight.  I need to tell you something, Y/n.  And you might not like what I have to say, but I can’t keep denying it for the rest of my life.  These last few weeks have shown me that I can’t take anything for granted, so I intend to stop right now.”  He paused and stood up, giving you room to stop him if you wanted, but when you remained silent he took that as permission to keep going.

“I’m in love with you.  I think I always have been.  I’m in love with the way you hum that same silly tune to yourself when you’re doing chores.  How you can read a map of any terrain, how you’re not afraid to correct me when I make a mistake while drilling our sword fighting techniques.  I’m in love with the smile you get on your face when you ride through the woods and the way your hair looks when the light shines on it through the trees.”

You were aware your mouth was slightly open, your eyes staring at Chan like a dumbstruck deer, but you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the words he was saying.  You’d always known you still had feelings for him, and could only dream he reciprocated those same feelings.  But hearing him say all the little things you didn’t even notice about yourself, hearing him say he loved you for those things, your mind was at a loss for what to do.

“I love how you care for our people, how you always have their best interests at heart.  How you would be willing to never speak about these feelings I know we both share so as to not jeopardize your ability to serve me, to serve them.  But most of all I love that you see me.  Not the statesman or the fighter or the ruler, just me.”

You made up your mind then.  To hell with the king’s threats, with the questions your mother had asked you about responsibilities and sacrifices.  You had been making the greatest sacrifice of all for the last sixteen years, but no more.

You launched yourself at him, his arms wrapping around you immediately and your lips meeting his.

It was somehow exactly like that night five years ago and nothing like it at all.  You’d both grown in experience since then, having had other partners over the years.  Your lips moved smoother against one another’s, and it was more passionate than it was gentle.  But you felt that same feeling of euphoria glowing inside you, knowing that you were here with him and he was here with you and you were both finally admitting to what you’d always felt but never dared to acknowledge.  You felt yourself sinking into him, willing to let the tide of his love carry you away if it meant you could stay in this moment forever.  Your lips parted from his, Chan titling your head up to look at him.

“I need to hear you say it.  I need to know that you love me, too.”

You took his face in your hands, willing your voice to convey how sincere you were.

“I love you Chris.  I love the way your hair is always ruffled in the morning and that you sing to yourself when you think no one can hear.  I love how you take three cubes of sugar with your tea instead of two.  I love your determination to better yourself and your dedication to better your people.  I love that you have always treated me as an equal.  I love your dimples and your eyes and the way you make me feel safe when my hand is in yours.”  You brought your thumb up to wipe away a single tear that was sliding down his cheek, his eyes shining as he listened to your words.  “It has always been you, Chris.  It will always be you.”

He smiled then, that same blinding smile that had bound you to him from the day you met.  He kissed you again, then began moving his lips down the side of your neck, your head tilting back to allow him more skin.  His hand reached back and in a few quick motions the laces of your bodice were loose enough for your dress to fall off your shoulders.  He kissed downwards over your chest, and your breath hitched as the dress moved lower and lower, eventually dropping to the floor, leaving you almost bare for him.

Your hands came up to thread through his hair as you mocked, “You are entirely too clothed for my liking, Your Highness.”

At that, Chan whipped his shirt over his head, exposing his soft skin and toned abs, then pulled you to him, tone light but face serious. “I never want to have to hear you call me that ever again.”

“Chan,” you laughed, lightly smacking his chest, “what we’re doing right now is staying confined to this room; I’ll still have to call you that in front of everyone else.”

“Fine,” he all but growled, “I will settle for never hearing it in this room.  For now.”  His lips returned to pressing featherlight kisses to your jaw and found your sweet spot below your ear.  A sigh escaped your lips as Chan lifted you up and placed you under him on the bed, your hands roaming over his shoulders and back as he shed the rest of his clothes and removed the final layer separating you from him.  You could feel his hardness against your dripping core and you looked down, holding in a moan when you saw how big he was.

“Ah ah ah,” the prince purred, “I don’t want you to hold anything back tonight.  I have waited so long to have you like this, and I want to hear every sound that falls from your lips.  I want to know how good I make you feel, Y/n.”

Even if you’d wanted to, you couldn't hold back the sinful sound that left you as he brought his mouth to suckle and nip at your breast, his hand reaching down to rub the pads of his first two fingers against your heat.  Slowly, he increased the pace and the pressure as he kissed down your body, bringing his head between your thighs.  You moaned when you felt his tongue lick a long, languid stripe up your core, then brought your hands to tangle in his hair as he stroked small circles against your sensitive bud.  Desperate for him, you pulled his head back up to meet yours, back arching as you whimpered, “Please Chris.”

He lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed in, the feeling of him against your walls far better than you’d ever imagined.  Being this close to him, feeling his cock reach places inside you you hadn’t known could feel this good, the intimacy was almost overwhelming, so you clung to him, reveling in the feeling of being with the man you loved.

“How did I get so lucky?” Chan was whispering, praises falling from his lips.  “Fuck Y/n, you’re so beautiful, an angel, my perfect girl.  Taking me so well, like you were made for me.”

“I was,” you breathed out, “all of me is yours Chris, only yours.”

His thrusts increased then, both of you teetering on the edge of your highs.  You captured his lips in another burning kiss, sealing your love as the ecstasy coursed through you both.  You laid there for a few moments, relishing the weight of his body on yours and the quiet sound of his heartbeat.  Then Chan rose and fetched a cloth to clean you both, your body already starting to succumb to the pleasant exhaustion.

When he returned to the bed you heard his voice whisper one last I love you before you drifted off in his arms.

Runaway  |  Kingdom of Miroh, 28 years ago

The girl had been running for two days.

She’d prepared her knights and her attendant, told them the story she’d fabricated for them to repeat, and paid them handsomely for the trouble she was surely causing them.  Her parents would be frantic, but eventually they would mourn her and move on.  The kingdom would survive without her; in fact, it had to, because she knew nothing would ever make her return, force her to take on a responsibility she never asked for nor wanted.

Only five more miles to the border, she thought.  Then I can start over, be whoever I want to be.

By the time she reached the marker for Gu, she could barely stay upright, having taken as little rations with her as she dared.  She wandered across, hoping some small border town would be close by where she could eat, maybe get some rest.  After another few miles some buildings started to pop up, small cottages and what looked like a market and an inn.  The girl squinted at the prices on the inn’s sign, trying to remember the conversion rate of the currency she’d brought with her.

“Hey!  I saw you come in to town; you look a little lost.  Can I help you find anything?”

The girl realized the voice was talking to her, and turned to see a boy about her age, maybe seventeen, tall with shaggy brown hair, looking at her curiously.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the boy said.  “It’s just… you seem to be having a little trouble reading the sign and I-I’m uhh... pretty good with numbers; I could help you, if you’d like?”

“Oh umm… yes… p-please… thank you.”

The boy walked closer, the girl showing him the money she had so he could count out the equivalent of the price.  “So, is your family visiting from Miroh?”

The girl balked at his perceptiveness.  Despite all her planning, she hadn’t thought about what she would tell anyone when they asked for her story.  She tried to come up with something quickly, stumbling over her words.  “Umm no, m-my parents are… they’re uhh… they died.”

“Oh, I-I’m sorry to hear that,” the boy said, looking at her sympathetically, and the girl felt like he really meant it.

“Well, umm, here’s what you’ll need for a night’s stay here,” he continued, handing her back the money.  “If you want I can show you a good place to eat that’s close by; you look like you could use a hearty meal.”

Despite knowing him for all of two minutes, the boy seemed trustworthy.  And he was right, she could definitely use some nourishment.

“That sounds nice,” she answered.

“Great!” the boy said, stepping down from the inn’s doorstep and walking towards the village center, the girl following.  “I’m Minhyuk, by the way.  What’s your name?”

“My name’s Julietta.”

Revelations  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

You awoke, startling for a moment at the unfamiliar surroundings until you remembered what had happened the previous night.  Smiling to yourself, you turned in the sheets, expecting to see Chan laying beside you, but you were met with emptiness on his side of the bed.  You frowned, scooting over and feeling the spot still warm from his body.

He must have only just left, you thought.

You glanced over and noticed a small note sitting on his bedside table, letters written in his artful penmanship.  You picked it up, eyes running over the words.

Good morning my love.  How I wished to have you wake up in my arms, but I’ll only be gone for a few minutes.  I’ve gone to speak with my father about something, and when I return, the whole kingdom will be able to hear my name spoken by your beautiful voice. 

A wave of dread washed over your entire body, threatening to pin you to the spot where you sat.

Chan knew his father could be cold, knew he was a callous man who cared for little more than his own self-interest and what he deemed acceptable.  But you knew he’d always believed maybe he could change the king, could open his heart to the same degree Chan and his mother had shared.  You, however, never saw the man through such rose-colored glasses, having been the recipient of his threats and intimidation too many times to believe he could be redeemed.  And your beloved prince was about to find out the true depths of his father’s loathing towards the relationship you shared.

You sprung into action, body moving without thinking as you dressed in last night’s clothes and ran from his chambers, heading to the throne room.  Maybe you could reach him in time, spare him the pain of hearing his father’s rejection.  You’d have to convince him you didn’t want to bring your relationship public, and he’d be hurt, devastated, but it would be nothing compared to the anguish of what he was about to bring on himself.  Or the punishment he was about to unknowingly inflict on you.

Chan was nowhere to be seen in any of the hallways leading to the throne room.  Your feet moved faster, desperately trying to prevent what was about to happen.  But when you burst through the thick oak doors, you saw Chan kneeling at his father’s feet.  Both men looked up to face you, Chan’s expression one of blissful optimism, his father’s one of knowing anticipation.

You were too late.

“Hello, Y/n,” the king said darkly, mouth morphing into a sneer.  “You already know what he’s asked me, don’t you?”

“Your Majesty… please...”

You shuddered at the sound of your own voice, tone betraying your agony, your fear.

“You never told him, did you?” he questioned, the trace of pity in his voice making you all the more uneasy.

“How could I?” you sighed.

The king nodded contentedly, then motioned for the guards on either side of you.  You felt their hands capture your arms, body going all but slack in their hold.  You couldn’t find the strength to fight anymore.

Chan had stood up and was now looking frantically between you and his father.  “What is the meaning of this?!” he asked, tone laced with bewilderment and shock.

“I’m sorry Chris,” you murmured, heart breaking at the look on his face.

“Christopher,” King Bang said, standing and approaching his son, “do not fear.  I will take care of this disobedient whore and then you will be free of her influence.  I should have never let her remain for as long as I did, look what it has done to you, my ingenuous boy.”

You felt it, the moment Chan realized what his father was implying.  His whole body shifted, backing away from Geun as he spoke, voice void of emotion.

“What did you just say?”

For once the king seemed genuinely surprised, eyebrows raising and voice the tiniest bit unsteady as he answered, “I-I mean, certainly that’s the only reason you would ever come to me with this request.  Clearly this woman has convinced you to denounce what I’ve taught you about tradition, about knowing one’s place, through what means I dare not say; but I don’t blame you Chris, this is my fault.”

Chan stopped moving then, having almost reached your side.  His face contorted into an expression of dismay, of grief, as he shouted.

“Are you really so ignorant, so far removed from reality, that you think my actions are a sign of disloyalty?!  Of neglecting my responsibilities?!  Because they are nothing of the sort.  And even if they were, Y/n would not be responsible for convincing me to do anything.  Your outdated principles and misguided sense of your own virtuosity could have done that on their own!  You were blind to a plot happening in your own palace because of your desire to have me bend to your will, but I won’t let you do it anymore.”

He turned, ordering the guards, “Release her, now!”

“You will do no such thing,” the king’s enraged voice rang out.  “Christopher, you will never get my permission for this.”

He turned back to Geun, eyes furious but voice calm.

“I was not asking, father.  I will marry her.  And I am not betraying you, or our kingdom, or our traditions.  And I’m not doing it because she seduced me.  I’m doing this because I love her.  Because she supports me, and cares for me, and knows our people intimately, probably better than I do.  And because, for my whole life, she has been the only person besides Mother who has ever truly loved me for who I am.  So you’ll have to throw me in prison too if you intend to stop me, because I refuse to be here without her.”

“No!” you yelled, straining against your captors, energy rushing back to your body at his words.  “No, Chris please, you have to let me go!  I’m so grateful we had last night; it was the best night of my life and always will be.  I knew the consequences I might face, and getting to tell you how much I love you was worth every one, but you were never supposed to suffer because of me.  I can’t let you do this.”

Your pleas were interrupted by a herald entering the room.

“Your Majesty - “

‘WHAT?!” King Bang whirled on him, outrage blatantly evident on his face.

While the king was distracted, Chan shoved the guards away from you and took your shaking form into his arms, cradling your head against his chest.  “Y/n, you’ve protected me and sacrificed for me my entire life.  Let me be the one who takes care of you now.”

His whispers stopped when you heard the announcement of the herald.

“His Majesty King Peter Soleil of Miroh is here with his wife, Queen Margaery, as well as one of our palace servants, Julietta, Your Majesty.  They are insisting on an audience with you.”

“Your mother?” Chan questioned, meeting your equally confused face with his own.

The king glanced to where the pair of you stood, rolling his eyes obnoxiously.  “Fine, bring them in.  Let these two have their last embrace before I rid us of her presence.”

The herald opened the doors, and there stood your mother, dressed in a beautiful gown you could tell was made for royalty.  She entered, followed closely by the king and queen of Miroh.  You’d seen them a few times over the years at various palace functions.  They seemed like steadfast and benevolent leaders, reflected in their small kingdom’s reputation for nonviolence and generosity.  In fact, the only turmoil you could remember them being involved in was the disappearance of the crown princess, several years before you were even born.  Not much was known about the circumstances of the disappearance, but it was said the king and queen had never given up hope of finding her.

They came to a stop in the middle of the room, the sovereigns flanking your mother.  Looking at the three of them, you couldn’t deny the resemblance of your mother to the elder two people, and a memory stirred in the back of your mind.

“King Peter, Queen Margaery,” King Bang addressed them tersely, “I would say I am pleased to see you but I am at this moment engaged in a personal matter and would like very much to return to it.  If you could please explain why you have one of my palace servants here with you playing dress up, I would appreciate your cooperation.”

“Certainly,” came King Soleil’s placid reply.  “We are here on a personal matter as well, one that Julietta, and indeed Y/n, are involved in.”

Chan’s arms tensed around you, preparing to defend you against any allegation, any harm or threat or danger to your wellbeing.  But, as had happened once before in that very room, no one was prepared for what the Mirohan king said.

“You see, Julietta is our daughter.  Almost thirty years ago, she left our kingdom, because she felt trapped in a life we had not prepared her for.  Her mother and I should have supported her, should have taught her to confide in us, but we were very different people then, and different rulers too.  We would have done what you are attempting to do to your son, forced her to betray her own self to mold to our will.  However, when she left, we saw how wrong we were, and vowed to do better.  Now, Julietta has come back into our lives for the sake of her daughter, our granddaughter, Y/n.”

Every set of eyes in the room was trained on you, your own frozen wide in disbelief at what was happening.  King Bang seemed to be at a loss for words, having fallen back into his seat on the throne.  Your mother left her parents’ side and walked to you, smiling tentatively.  Chan reluctantly released his hold on you as she took your hand and brought you to stand with her away from the others.

“My dear, I know how much of a shock this must be to you, and I am sorry, so very truly sorry for never telling you,” she said quietly.  “But I was ashamed… When I ran away, I did what I thought I needed to do at the time.  Looking back it may have been reckless, irresponsible and selfish even.  But most importantly, it had been my choice.  And I took that from you, the ability to choose what path you wanted in life.  I thought we would be better off away from the life I grew up in, and for a while we were, with your father.  But when he died, I was adrift and had no idea what to do and somehow we ended up back in a palace and at the whim of an arrogant king, but this time without even an inkling of the power I once held.  I thought about returning with you to my parents then, but how could I be sure you wouldn’t resent me for forcing you into the life I had tried so desperately to escape?  I struggled with my choice for years, until eventually I saw that you were happy with your training with the prince, getting to do all the things you used to do with your father that would have been scorned had you been the one in the boy’s position.  But then I saw the signs of your feelings for him, your realization of the insurmountable barriers that would prevent you from being together, the way you resigned yourself to unhappiness.  I knew I could do something about it, but I had to be sure you were ready to accept the responsibilities that would come with having the ability to be with the man you loved.”

You looked up at her, recalling your conversation at the coronation, and she nodded.  “I am sure now.  Which is why I went back to Miroh, back to my parents and the position I despised a lifetime ago.  Because if I can give you the ability to make this one choice, maybe I can make up for all the other mistakes in my life.”

“Mother... “ you started, wanting to tell her you understood her choices, that you didn’t think they were all a mistake, but were quieted by her hand on your cheek.

“I know you are quick to forgive, just like your father, but let me take responsibility for this.”

You looked back at your grandparents.

“They won’t force you to accept,” Julietta said.  “That was my one condition.”

Your head was spinning with the onslaught of new information.  Searching the room, your gaze locked with Chan’s, reading the utter adoration in his eyes that you knew mirrored your own.  You knew his father would never accept your relationship at your current status.  And despite feeling confident you wanted a chance to make an impact as a ruler, you didn’t know everything about what it would mean to take on this responsibility.  But there was one thing you were absolutely certain of.

You turned back to your mother, squeezing her hand.  “Thank you.”

She led you back to the group, your hand linking with Chan’s as you came to stand beside him and your grandparents.

“We are aware of the young people’s affection for each other…” King Soleil began, but King Bang seemed to have recovered himself enough to realize what the other was about to say.

“That girl will NOT marry my son!”

“Geun,” your grandfather warned, “that girl is my granddaughter, a Mirohan princess.  I strongly suggest you watch your tone when you speak about her in front of me, or anywhere for that matter.  Now, it was already quite unreasonable to want to prevent your son from marrying a woman he loves, but it would be wholly irrational of you to deny a match for the prince to the heir apparent to the throne of Miroh, wouldn’t you say?”

You stood up straighter, feeling Chan’s hand tighten around yours.

The king was silent for a while, but finally gave an acquiescent sigh.  “Very well.”

The two of you smiled but kept your composure, bowing to the king and turning to your grandparents.  They pulled you both in for a hug as you thanked them, saying they were eager to get to know their new grandchildren, and your heart skipped a beat at those words.  You didn’t hear anything else after that, your focus entirely mesmerized by Chan who was pulling you towards the door, your pace quickening before breaking into a run as you left the castle, heading for the stables.  You rounded the building first, then felt him reach around your waist as he gathered you in his arms and spun you around, laughing his brilliant laugh and pulling you close to him as he placed you back on the ground by the pond.

“Does this mean I have to call you “Your Highness” now?” he asked, giggling at your stunned face from the use of the term.

You playfully put your hands up to shove him, but he captured them in his own, kissing your knuckles and bringing your palms to rest on his chest.  You could feel his heart beating as you knelt your head to meet his and heard his soft voice ask.

“Y/n, will you marry me?”

You had never been happier to say yes.

Epilogue  |  Kingdom of Gu, 1 year later

You were standing in front of the mirror, your mother behind you pinning your hair into an extravagant twist when a joking voice came from the door.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”  You turned to see the smiling face of the queen of Lajor.

“Korenna!” you exclaimed, dancing happily in place, too afraid to move while your mother continued her styling as your friend came to sit next to you.

“You look stunning, Y/n, truly.  Chris is going to lose it when he sees you.”

Chris, your mind echoed lovingly.  You’re marrying Chris today.

“And how come I don’t get a hello from my favorite little princess?” you teased.

“Paige is a bit preoccupied practicing her petal tossing abilities with her Uncle Felix,” her sister responded.  “She definitely has the upper hand in technique, but I’m not sure who looked cuter in the flower crown.”

“Speaking of flower crowns,” your mother said, turning you to face her, “Chris left this for you.”

You looked down at her hands where she held a sealed letter, on top of which rested a single wildflower.

Your mother saw the tears prick in your eyes and started to gather up her things, motioning to Korenna.  “Let’s give Y/n a moment before the ceremony while we - Oh! Your Majesty, my apologies, I didn’t see you there.”

You turned to see King Bang milling awkwardly at the entrance of the room.  Putting the gift from Chan down, you ushered your mother and Korenna out then came to sit in front of his father.

The two of you had avoided each other as much as possible over the last year, which hadn’t exactly been hard since you had moved with your mother to Miroh to catch up on all the instruction you’d missed these past twenty-three years.  You’d seen him at the Four Kingdom Competition and at various dinners and balls, but Chan always made it a point to keep you as far away from him as possible.  You weren’t going to complain about it to your fiance, but you’d almost wished he’d let the two of you talk, tension clearly still lingering between you.  And though this visit was unexpected, considering you were going to be family after today, now seemed just as good a time as any.

“What can I do for you, Your Majesty?”

“Actually, Y/n, I-I came here to apologize,” the king said, his voice sounding almost as taken aback as you felt.  “I have spent my whole life avoiding saying that phrase, but I realize now you are one of the few people I feel I really must say it to.”  He took a deep breath before he continued.  “I’m sorry for the death of your father, I’m sorry for my insults and threats over the years, and I’m sorry for trying to keep you and Christopher from being together.  I had no right to try to do that, whether you were noble-born or not.”  He paused, and you could tell it was getting harder for him to keep his voice steady.  “After my wife died… I had this blind rage I felt towards everyone, but especially towards you, and when I finally took the time to analyze it, I realized I had been jealous.  Jealous of your skill and your talent, but mostly jealous of my son’s devotion to you.  This year has shown me that I was wrong to think his love for you would turn him away from me or his responsibilities; in fact, his happiness at being with you has only strengthened our relationship and made him a more present, more thoughtful ruler.  So I came to apologize, and to thank you for bringing the light back to my son’s eyes.”

You were stunned, but grateful, and the king seemed to read that in the expression on your face.  “You don’t need to say anything,” he said, standing up and heading for the door, “I just wanted you to know.”

You stopped him before he could leave, placing a hand on his arm.  “Thank you.”

He nodded and shut the door, leaving you alone.  You turned your attention back to the envelope on the desk and gently opened it, unfolding the paper in one hand and holding the blossom in the other.

Y/n,

Since the beginning, my love for you has grown like the roots of a flower.  Even on this day, we are but tiny buds, only just beginning to sprout.  I look forward to every day we’ll spend in the garden, tending to our love until we reach full bloom.  And just as flowers slowly fade, may we grow old together, enjoying the memories of those sunny days when we used to ride through the meadows we planted.  Know that my love for you will remain long after our petals are reclaimed by the earth, my beautiful wildflower.

Yours forever,

Chris

You held back the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, placed the flower in your hair behind your ear with trembling hands, and walked out to meet your mother standing at the entrance to the courtyard.

She took your arm in hers as you made your way to the aisle.  You saw Minho and Felix on the right, both grinning from ear to ear, and Korenna and Paige on the left, the younger’s sparkling dress and tiny braid matching the elder’s.  And in the center you saw Chan, looking to be on the verge of tears, but his blinding smile on full display.  Your mother walked you to him, your gown glinting in the light of the setting sun.  He took your hand in his and held it while the priest recited the hymns and blessed your marriage, pronouncing you husband and wife.

Later, while the celebration was in full swing inside the ballroom, the two of you made your way out to the balcony.  He took you into his arms, both of you swaying to the music floating out on the breeze.

“You look breathtaking tonight,” Chan whispered.

“You told me that earlier, Your Highness,” you responded, wiggling your eyebrows at the term he used to hate, recalling the conversation you’d had the first time you shared a dance on the balcony.

“I know,” he said smiling, catching on to your words.  “I wanted to tell you again.”

You pulled his lips to yours, kissing him before whispering, “We’re married.”

“I know that too,” he responded, the two of you giggling and bringing your foreheads together.  He reached up to tuck your hair that had come loose behind your ear, revealing the flower, and you let the feeling of peace wash over you, knowing you had a lifetime together.

“I love you, Chris.”

“I love you too, Y/n.”

{end}

[thefanficmonster]

Beyond The Darkness

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Relationship Struggles, Self-doubt, Insecurities, Swearing

Genre: Angst with Fluff Ending, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Y/N finally expresses their worries, reluctance and suspicions regarding their relationship with Corpse who is more than surprised to be hearing such confession, thinking their relationship couldn’t be more perfect. Well, perfect on the surface.

Requested by @cinnamonbun332  Hi darling! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! You asked for some heartbreaking and then heart-healing and I hope I delivered properly. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

I didn’t choose to be insecure, I never wanted to be so anxious and self-conscious. No one can blame that on me for it’s something I’d get rid of within the blink of an eye if it were that easy. I didn’t choose to fall in love with Corpse either, it just happened. I was taken by storm by the feelings he awoke in me. It was terrifying and made me become a whole different person around him. I was torn between wanting him by my side at all times and never wanting to see him again for the purpose of those feelings dying down. That being said, I can’t be blamed for that either.

However, I can be blamed for one thing: accepting his offer for a date. I didn’t have to. I probably shouldn’t have accepted it just as much as he shouldn’t have brought it up. But, alas, I couldn’t help myself. That storm of emotions, that stirring lava within the volcano I was at the time was dying to seep out to the surface so it wouldn’t burn me from the inside out. Him asking me out on a date was practically the vessel for me to finally have a chance at expressing myself and how I feel and that’s something I’ve never been able to do properly or openly. 

But with Corpse it has always been so easy.

Or...it was so easy.

It was easy until I started overthinking everything. Every interaction between us, between him and his friends. Between our two separate worlds.

I now have a hard time seeing us as a union, like we’re living together on the same planet of understanding and companionship. No, we’re more alike two planets in orbits near one another that are close but not close enough. Never destined to touch. Where I once saw light, I now see nothing. Almost as if I flipped the switch to my happiness myself. I wouldn’t be surprised if I did, it wouldn’t be my first time. I have a way of always finding a way to kill my happiness, put an end to my bliss. The key to doing so is what I already mentioned: overthinking, underestimating, undermining, over-worrying. In short: allowing my mind to torture me.

Sadly, it’s also forcing me to torture others.

At the moment, I’m spending day four back into my apartment, having come back with the excuse that I needed to get some piping fixed in the kitchen and needed to watch over the plumbers as they worked. I think Corpse bought that only halfway but if he didn’t believe me, he didn’t show it and I’m grateful for it. Or at least I think I am. Obviously, there was a part of me which screamed ‘See, he doesn’t care!’ at me when all he said in response to my announcement was ‘Oh, ok’. Of course, I didn’t pay that voice much mind then, but it’s starting to creep back in now and I really don’t know what to distract myself with to avoid hearing it. It’s not like I can internally deafen myself to stop it from eating away at me slowly but intently and with a scary determination that even I myself don’t have. Sadly, the pessimistic side of me does.

Truth be told, I wasn’t planning on staying home alone for four days straight, thinking I wouldn’t be able to make it that long without Corpse, thinking my loneliness would kill me. But, now that I am indeed alone, for some reason, I don’t feel really lonely, if at all. It’s refreshing and new, like a new but old perspective. Basically one I’ve missed for quite some time now without knowing that I did. Who knew going back to my empty apartment would be the cure to my messy head. Well, not a direct cure, but I have managed to map out at least a small portion of what’s going on up there, mend some of the damage I’ve done to myself.

Why do you always do that?

There’s that voice again, and some audacity it has! I’m not doing anything to myself! That voice is!

Saying that in court would easily land you in a mental facility, you know.

Fucking touché.

I think the reason why this is happening to me at the moment is because it’s been exactly four days since I last contacted Corpse. Or since he last contacted me. See what I’m going for here? See how toxic my mindset can be? Yeah, even I can hardly believe it sometimes. Like, how can something so dark be part of me - someone who used to be so cheerful and bubbly growing up. My nickname used to be ‘sunflower’ for a reason, but I might as well be a wilted willow now.

And who do you have to blame for that?

Will you fucking shut it!!!

As I’m in the midst of yet another self-argument, I near the doorbell ring, scaring me to the point I almost fall off my desk chair. I only then become aware of the blank MS Word document staring back at me. Throwing myself into work hasn’t been able to help me today. Instead of it distracting me from my struggles, it’s the other way around and I can’t fucking stand it.

Just like I’m beginning not to be able to stand myself. How Corpse and my friends do it, I have no idea. Well, they have it easy I guess, they don’t have to hear all the shit that happens in this beehive on my shoulders.

I lazily saunter over to open the door, not even thinking about looking through the peephole prior to turning the doorknob and swinging it open. That’s a mistake, considering that the mess I am is now face to face with Corpse. Let’s be honest, I’m past the point of stressing over how I look in front of him, we’ve been dating for almost a year now after all. However, this look on me right now is beyond disturbing. One that would leave him questioning if I need help or if I’m doing alright. The answer to both of those questions is no, by the way. Yes, to both.

“Corpse?“ I croak out, fighting my way out of the cloud of confusion surrounding me.

“Y/N?“ He replies, mimicking me though his confusion isn’t as much confusion as it is concern. Gotta say - rightfully so.

I shake my head as if awakening from a fever dream, basically hitting the ground head-first, “Um...yeah, uh, come in!” I finally manage to say, forcing my feet to step aside to allow him inside.

He nods and takes a step beyond the doorstep, cautious as though I’ve rigged the place with traps. I mean, ok, I’m weird, but not that weird. I’m not a complete psycho. At least not yet. Give me a few more months by myself. Or weeks. 

“I haven’t been here in so long...“ he mumbles, sounding almost as if he’s talking to himself. Before I could say anything, he wanders off into the kitchen, “Where are the plumbers?“

“What plumbers?“ I blurt out, unable to contain the widening of my eyes when I realize what I’ve said.

You. Fucking. Idiot!!!

“The ones you came here to monitor...?“ His answer sounds more like a question as well, both of us just staring at each other as we await what idiocy will leave my brain and come out of my mouth next.

The silence lasts for a few seconds before he breaks it by speaking up again, “There are no plumbers, are there?”

“No, not today! I mean- not right now.“ I resist the urge to smack my forehead with the palm of my hand in embarrassment. “They’ll come back...later! They were here up until an hour ago.“

Real smooth, Y/N. This is why you never play Among Us

Corpse looks around, even taking a peek over my shoulder before making a mock-confused expression as he shrugs his shoulders, “Your kitchen looks pretty tidy for being a place of such complex fixes happening.“

I let out a hysterical gust of laughter, squeezing my thumb so hard I might rip it off my hand, “Yeah, you know me, I like my living space tidy.”

He nods slowly, “Yeah, I know you. I know you’re not.“

The air gets caught in my throat when he eyes meet mine when he says that. I feel redness creeping up my neck, spreading across my cheeks and climbing up to my forehead and ears.

Oh you’d so be ejected right now

“Y/N, what’s really going on here? Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? If so, please just tell me. This silent treatment and avoiding is killing me. If I didn’t come here I would’ve gone insane. You would’ve found my walls with writings on them...“ He stops talking abruptly, letting out a soundless sigh as though his soul left his body, his gaze softening with sadness, “That is, of course, if you were even planning to come back. Ever...“

“Of course I was!“ I exclaim, feeling my chest tighten at the hurt I see in his eyes, “I just...I needed time. I still do.“

“Time away from what?“ He asks, desperate to hear the answer no matter how much it could hurt him.

I honestly don’t know what to tell him. I have no idea what I’m running from. I don’t even know if I’m running, hiding, contemplating, I have no idea what I’m doing. Is he the problem? Am I? Are we the problem? Our relationship as a whole?

“I don’t need time from anything, Corpse. I just...I need some time with myself. With my own thoughts. I’m really torn, have been for quite some time now. I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know if I’m doing is the right thing. I don’t know if we are the right thing. I-...“ I buffer for a second, feeling the words start getting more and more tripped up as they climb up my throat. Eventually, they end up getting caught in an invisible net which doesn’t allow them to make it to my mouth, let alone leave it. Now at a loss for words, I let out a sigh of defeat, feeling my eyes welling up with tears, “I don’t know anything, damn it! I’m a mess. Why do you tolerate me? I’m no good to myself let alone to someone else!“

I don’t know where this outburst came from, but I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t relieving. I feel like a popped balloon, letting out what’s been straining me from the inside for a long time now. Lord knows how Corpse took it, I can’t bring myself to look up at him, but all I know is that I finally did something I can officially deem right.

Suddenly, I feel the familiar touch of Corpse’s hands on my shoulders, pulling my chest flush against his, his arms wrapping around me, enveloping me in a tight embrace. His lips plans a kiss a the top of my head before he rests his chin there, holding me tightly.

“Why haven’t you told me any of this?“ He whispers, his voice emotional to the point of almost making me regret saying all that.

Almost...

“I didn’t want to worry you.“ I let out a half-hearted chuckle, “And I didn’t want you finding out what kind of nut-job you’re dating.“

He scoffs, “Even if you were a nut-job, Y/N - which, by the way, you’re not - I wouldn’t mind. I’m a nut-job for you. Utterly and completely crazy for you, babe. I’m always here for you, always there for you to talk to me, tell me all that’s going on in that busy head of yours. All you have to do is talk, and all I’ll do is listen.”

I sniff briefly, “Now you’re making me regret not saying it earlier.”

“Then I’m doing the right thing.“ He mutters, his tone suggesting I take the wheel of the conversation and say all I’ve been keeping within me until now.

“You see, I tend to enjoy certain things a lot. Get attached to people super quickly and easily. And then, after a certain period of time, I find myself rethinking and overthinking everything about that thing or person to the point I’m not even sure I like it - or them - anymore. At least not to the same degree as previously. I slowly start become unsure of everything around me, even my own thoughts and feelings. It’s almost like where I used to see light, there’s now darkness. Worst part is, I’m the one who put that light out for myself. I always do it to myself and then hate myself for it. It’s a vicious cycle that I can’t escape - killing my joy and blaming and despising myself for it.“ I sigh, nuzzling my face into his chest, “I just wish this curse avoided our relationship. You’re too good to me, I love you too much to lose you, Corpse.“

I feel his arms tighten their hold on me even more, pulling me even closer despite it not being possible. “Y/N, you can’t lose me. Not over that, not over anything. We all have our demons, you just gotta remember to hold onto me tighter than those demons are holding onto you. You gotta let me help you when you realize you can’t help yourself.” He gently pulls away from me, his hands now coming up to cup my cheeks as he gazes into my eyes, “You gotta learn to see beyond the darkness you surround yourself with. Beyond the darkness, that’s where I’m waiting for you. I’m always gonna be there. I’m a very patient guy, you know.”

I can’t help but laugh, suddenly feeling the bubbly giggles escaping from my chest, pressed out of me by the massive wave of relief that’s washed over my sore insides. Sore from the holding back and now even more so from letting go. But damn does it feel good.

“Looks like I don’t need a plumber but an electrician to fix this light I keep turning off.“ I say, pushing up on my toes to only barely touch my forehead to his. Luckily, he sees what I’m trying to do, so he leans down. “I need him to make it un-turn-off-able.“

Corpse smiles, humming approvingly, “I can help you with that. Starting with...“ and with that he tilts his head, his lips colliding with mine.

I gotta say: damn have I missed this feeling.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[yangscutebutt]

I have the BIGGEST HEAD CANNON FOR VOL 9.

It all started with reading this…if you haven’t taken a look at this vol. 9 prediction by reddit user u/iamthatguy54 please do

And while im not on reddit i had some opinions about this which lead me down… a rabbit hole. Id love to hear all your comments and thoughts about this!

Alice in Wonderland is a perfect allusion to what happened to the squad at the end of vol. 8. And Yang is Alice, making the other people who also fell into Wonderland characters as well. I have chills writing this you guys!!! Ive taken some screenshots for proof and it is UNDENIABLE.

Lets looks at Alice’s entrance to Wonderland. This is a photo of her decent down the hole which she crawled into

Heres yangs fall! Both long blondes falling in the exact same position. Coincidence, I think NOT.

Then I went to see what the original animations fall scene and i noticed this… do you guys see that!!!!

That is an allusion to Blake! Alice and the cat literally part ways. And Alice starts the decent aloof and confused. Alice then falls. But gently falls down and shes able to inspect the world that is this tunnel/ hole, picking up books, even sitting in a rocking chair momentarily.

Then i saw this gif. While shes falling past all these artifacts we she her breifly pass this…

If you haven’t heard theres a tale called the girl who fell through the earth like OP mentions. I know the diagram Alice passes isnt very clear but to me it looks as though its a diagram explaining her fall, as a fall through the earth. Further aliding to the fairy tale from Rwby.

As you can see at the end Alice falls on her head. And for me I can predict vol 9 to start like this:

Yang will be falling unconsciously. She will regain consciousness during her fall and start to notice she is falling but doesnt know where. She may see things while falling down to e island but have enough time to regain atleast some if not all of her aura back. Even though she’ll be totally aware for her landing she might be distracted and will clumsily land on her head. After falling on her head shell see something in the brush that catches her attention which she follows deep into the forest trying to catch. Only driving her away from the shore and closer to the TREE.

Because of these predictions too, i don’t think they will fall very far apart from one another in respect to time, they will all get there the same day. Unfortunately they will all fall very far away from each other except for Blake and Ruby and maybe Jaune and Weiss.

Okay I hope youre still here because. I wanted to check my theory out a little more. If alice was falling through the earth its safe to say our crew is as well. So i sought out to find if falling from “around atlas” where exactly would straight through go? Now i know that this was inside a pocket dimension so theres no way to say, however. I found these globes of Remnant rendered by another reddit user u/shazarakk.

The first thing to note is that THE WATER IS THE LAND AND THE LAND IS THE WATER!

I hope my labeling is helpful and please know i tried to the best of my ability to be as accurate as possible. I looks for certain geographic locations and if you want to know how i get a certain location id be happy to answer.

I noticed in the map its seems like i couldn’t see Menagerie very well because on the map its Remnants south ish pole?! Making atlas is north pole! At least to me anyway.

Therefore if they fell straight through the earth like depicted by the pole animation in Alice in Wonder, its very possible that they went to the Shallow sea as also speculated in OPs HC. The shallow sea could be menagerie but it could be a pocket dimension near menagerie. And if this is all true there could be the god of animals that we are still yet to meet and maybe our heroines have some knowledge to seek from him and maybe he lives in THE TREE.

So to conclude, because Yang is so heavily alluded to alice in wonderland i think each member who fell will aquire a “new character “ so to say. I havent thought well into who is who but here are some roles to fill

Ruby, weiss, blake, jaune, and neo.

Mad Hatter (neo)

Caterpiller (maybe the god of animals)

Cheshire cat ( i couldn’t guess who this could possibly be. )

White rabbit (i think is on the island when yang gets there and not typical cast member)

The queen of hearts (weiss especially if she fell around the same time jaune and they have to work together)

Tweedle dee

Tweedle dum (jaune is one forsure)

[mochegato]

Capturing a Dream

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - First Mission

 She was late.  She was late. She was sooooooooo late. Stupid last minute fabric misorder that caused a backup in production, which left everyone scrambling and rushing to figure out a solution.  Bright side, they figured out a solution that was better than the original and Marinette was a huge part of it, gaining her accolades from her supervisor and the director of design.  Down side, Chimera was now extremely late for the mission briefing. Her first mission briefing.  She would be lucky if she made it there before it was over.

Marinette ducked into an alley close to the zeta tube and transformed. She grimaced as she stood in front of the opening.  There was no way to make this discrete.  It was going to announce her lateness for everyone to hear.  She couldn’t portal in just to avoid embarrassment because that was considered “personal use” and she didn’t know how much time they would have before they had to leave so she couldn’t take the chance that she would have to detransform, feed Kaalki, then retransform.  So she was just going to have to deal with the extreme embarrassment. She took a deep breath and walked through the opening.

“Recognize Chimera B12”

Chimera let out a deep sigh.  Yeah, there was no way they didn’t hear that.  She looked at the Team and noted their expressions.  Not as bad as she had been expecting, but she still felt terrible. She rushed over to the Team, standing behind everyone and trying to give Batman’s image on the screen her full attention.

When Batman paused to pull up a schematic of the area they were focusing on, Superboy leaned over to her.  “You’re late.” He said in a quietly gruff voice.

She looked up and scowled at him.  “I’m aware,” she hissed back.  “Couldn’t get away.”

“Right.  It’s not like we’re doing anything important here.” He sniped quietly.

“I know we are.  But my personal life is important too.  If I don’t keep my… outside deal happy, I don’t stay here. I get sent home and I am no longer on the Team.”  He furrowed his brow in surprise.  She frowned at him, feeling guilty for not being faster and looked back toward Batman. “It’s a balancing act.  A balancing act I’m clearly failing at.  Sorry.”

He watched her for a few more seconds before returning his attention to Batman as well.  “Sorry,” he grumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“Now that Chimera has arrived, I’ll review roles.  Aqualad, Artemis, Kid Flash, Robin, and Superboy, you will all be on tracking duty. You will work together on the ground to track the subject.”  They nodded at him.  

“Chimera, you will be on distance reconnaissance, observing the team from a distance.  I don’t want you interacting unless necessary.  Nobody knows about you yet and I want to keep it that way.  I want you calling out positions when needed and using mirage if necessary.”  She nodded at him.  “When you find him, report in, and I’ll recover him.  DO NOT ENGAGE.  If at any point you need assistance, CALL IT IN.  Don’t try to prove yourselves by doing it on your own. Everyone needs help sometimes. Make sure you are reporting your movements.” His voice made clear there was no room for argument or leeway in his statement.  He stared at each of them to make sure they all understood how serious he was.  “You leave in 5.”

The ride to the site was shorter than Chimera expected.  As soon as they landed, they tested out their coms and moved off the ship.  Aqualad and Superboy led the way off the ship. Artemis and Chimera followed behind, with Kid Flash and Robin bringing up the rear.  After a few seconds they heard Kid Flash over the coms “What do you think I need to do to get Aqualad to pair me up with Chimera on the next mission? I’d kill for some alone time with her.”

Everyone froze immediately. Kid Flash’s eyes went wide in embarrassment looking at each of them as they reacted.  Aqualad shot him an exasperated look.  Superboy stared daggers at him.  Robin chuckled and moved away from him, leaving him to deal with the repercussions on his own.  Chimera stared straight ahead, her eyes wide in shock.  Artemis continued looking straight ahead as well, but instead of staring at nothing like Chimera, she stared at Superboy.  “If he gets alone time with you, I get alone time with Superboy.” She grinned at him when he gave her a confused look.

Chimera groaned and let out a frustrated breath.  "Are you guys kidding me?” She exclaimed loudly looking at them.  “It’s like Felix all over again.  Can we focus on the mission, please?"

Robin stopped walking and turned back to her.  "Felix?"

Chimera’s eyes bugged out for a second chastising herself for giving away that clue to her identity, before her face went slack.  She turned away from the group and started walking away.  "How about we agree whatever personal information we find out about one another during a mission we ignore?  Now let's track this guy down.  I’m moving to my position."  The rest of the Team looked at each other and nodded.  They would table that conversation until later.  Right now, they needed to focus on the mission. Once Chimera was in her position, they’d move to their own positions.

After about 5 minutes Chimera still hadn’t checked in.  The Team gave each other anxious looks.  They were ready to get moving and didn’t appreciate having to wait to move.  “Chimera, are you in position?”  Aqualad asked through the coms.  

There was a full 20 second pause before her response came.  “Having a bit of trouble getting into position.  I’ve come across a problem.” She grunted.

“If you are lost, you should be able to follow the map on your flute.  Get in position.  We can’t start until you are.” Aqualad chastised her.

They heard a few noises coming from Chimera’s com but no response to Aqualad’s question. “Chimera! Stand down and get in position.”

“Your first mission and already disobeying orders?” Artemis snorted. “Damn, I’m not even that cocky.”

Chimera’s com finally crackled to life again.  “To be clear, you want me to stop fighting the guy that jumped me and is currently trying to kill me?”

“There’s a guy attacking you?”  Robin whipped around toward the direction he thought she was in.

“You thought I was making these noises for fun?” She huffed at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”  Superboy demanded starting to run towards her position.

“I’m just getting my breath back.  He caught me by surprise and got in a lucky hit.” She grumbled.

“Who is it?” Aqualad asked sternly moving toward her as well, but slower than Superboy.

“I’m not sure.  Hey scary looking guy trying to kill me, my teammates want to know your name… uh huh. Really?  I would have thought… I mean, not to criticize,” she grunted a few times as she jumped away from him or struck him, “but isn’t that a little… You know what, I really don’t have the right to critique names as being too on the nose.  He says his name is Killer Croc.”  She paused for a few seconds giving a grunt before speaking again.  “He says to say hi.”  She said slightly strained.

“Damn it.” Robin cursed.

“We’re on our way.”  Aqualad assured her and nodded to the Team to start moving.

“Here already.” Kid Flash reported.  “He’s not even part of the mission!  How did you find him?” He asked incredulously.

“I didn’t go looking for him!  I’m just lucky apparently.” She chuckled out wryly. “Look out, Kid Flash!”

“I’m almost there.”  Superboy called to her.

“Take your time.  We’re just getting to know each other.  He said he wants to have fun with me later.”  Chimera commented with a fake casualness.

“I think your definitions of fun might not match.” Robin remarked drolly.

“Only one way to find out.” She shrugged.

“We’re super excited you’ve decided to come out from the sewers.  We’re looking forward to chatting with you.”  Kid Flash added coldly, running to hit him.  Killer Croc turned just out of his reach and caught him with his tail instead, sending Kid Flash flying down the street.

“Kid Flash!”  Chimera yelled moving toward him.

“I’ll be there in about 20 seconds.”  Superboy stated.  

Chimera nodded even though none of her team could see it and turned back to Killer Croc.  “I’ll have him ready for you.” She whispered to her coms.  “Hey evil killer guy, I heard you were difficult.  You’re really embarrassing yourself here.  I expected better.” She loudly taunted Killer Croc.

“What are you doing?” Superboy yelled into the coms.

They could hear Killer Croc growling at Chimera before she whispered, “Mirage…” but nothing around her seemed to have changed.  Slightly louder she said, “Superboy, expect him from above you in 3, Voyage…. 2, 1.”

Killer Croc lunged at her, throwing his full weight at her in an attempt to break as many bones as he could with his impact.  Instead of hitting her, he found himself falling from a portal in the sky a few stories up.  He braced himself to hit the ground, but it never came.  Instead, he got hit from the side with the force of a building collapsing. He hit a nearby building with a sickening crack.  The force of the impact crushed the bricks where he hit and caused cascading cracks radiating out from the impact site.  

Killer Crock shook his head as he fell to the ground on all fours and looked over where the first hero had been.  Everything looked exactly the same until suddenly she disappeared and a portal stood where she had been.  She reappeared a few feet away at Kid Flash’s side.  He shook his head to try to make sense of the change and looked back to the building that had hit him.  He barely had time to take note of a boy in a black shirt and red ‘S’ stalking toward him, eyes glazed with rage, before the boy raised his arm and punched him again, knocking him back into the building.  

Superboy hit him again and again until Killer Croc passed out from the beating. Superboy raised his arm again but stopped when Chimera laid her hand on his shoulder.  “It’s okay,” she said softly but firmly.  “He’s down.  He isn’t a threat anymore.”

He lowered his arm breathing heavily, still glaring at the villain.

“Where do we want him to go, Aqualad?” Chimera spoke quietly into her com.  “I need a destination to move him.”

“We’ll do it the old fashioned way today and call the police.  I’ll make sure they show you Arkham later.” Aqualad stated calmly coming around the corner to observe the scene.

“Guess you’ll never know if your definitions match up now.” Artemis commented coming up next to Chimera.

“Shame.  He looked… interesting.”  Artemis let out a quiet laugh.  

“How’s he doing?” She asked nodding toward Kid Flash as she moved to check on him. He was now starting to push up onto his knees, though he was still swaying a bit.

“He seems okay, more dazed than anything.  We’ll have to give a better checkup when we get back.” Chimera reported. “I have to recharge anyway. Should I take him back to the ship?” Chimera asked Aqualad.  He nodded.

“Artemis, go with her.  Robin, I want you here to deal with the police.  This is your town, I’m sure you know them.  I’ll call it into Batman and see what he wants to do with the original mission.  Superboy, I want you to keep an eye on him until the police get here.  Do not hit him again unless he wakes up.”  Superboy nodded, never moving his glare from the villain’s collapsed body.

Superboy waited restlessly to check on Chimera, his hands curled into white-knuckled fists the entire time they spoke to the police.  After about an hour, Superboy, Aqualad, and Robin returned to the ship.  Superboy automatically sought out Chimera.  She was sitting with Kid Flash and Artemis, Kid Flash talking and making wild gestures while Artemis and Chimera laughed at him.  Superboy looked up to meet Chimera’s eyes and kept eye contact for a few seconds.   When she smiled at him, he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding since she was first attacked and relaxed his hands. Chimera walked over to him and gently laid her hand on his arm.  “You okay?” Her eyes were filled with concern.

“I’m fine.” He growled.  “Are you okay?” He looked her up and down, searching for any signs or injury.  “How could you let him get you like that?”

“I’ll be fine.  I’ve had worse and still won the fight.”  She gave him a small smile.  “He hits hard, but not as hard as some super teammates I’ve gone up against.” He huffed at her, his eyes still furrowed and frowning at her.  “He got a lucky hit in.  It happens.  I recovered and I had teammates there to help.  Thank you.”  Her eyes were shining with gratitude and softness.  Superboy’s eyes softened too and nodded at her.  

She could see he was still tense.  Watching a teammate get hurt had that effect on people.  She certainly had that reaction when Adrien or Alya or Nino or any of her old team took a hard hit.  “Can I give you a hug?” She asked tentatively.  Hugging her friends after the fight had always calmed her down. She hoped it did the same for him.

He stared at her uncertain how to respond for a few seconds but finally nodded again and opened his arms to her.  She smiled at him and walked into his embrace, holding him tightly.  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her firmly to his chest.  He rested his head on hers, holding her close for a few minutes, slowly relaxing in the knowledge she was safe and close.  

<><><><><> 

Superboy watched Chimera as she sketched in the common room.  She sat with her back against the armrest of the couch, her legs stretched out across the couch.  Luckily, she was short enough that it still left room for Superboy. She had turned on some old looking movie she was barely paying attention to.

He walked in, sat on the free cushion, and watched the movie for a few moments.  “What even is this?  This is terrible.”

She looked up startled like she hadn’t noticed him sit down.  “Hey.  This is Highlander.”  He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.  She gave him a sheepish grin.  “One of my friends is a movie guy.  He thought I might like it.  Good period costumes, he said.  Fun sword play and light shows.”

He nodded and looked back to the movie.  After a few minutes of glancing at Chimera from the corner of his eye he finally asked the thought that had been on his mind since their mission.  "So… who's Felix?"  He didn’t look away from the movie when he asked.

Chimera glared at him.  "I thought we agreed we forget any personal information we find out during a mission."

He finally looked over at her with a dubious look.  "No, you suggested that. None of us agreed to it."  He leaned back and rested his elbow on the back of the couch.  "So, tell me about Felix and how do I find him? I just want to talk to him."

She snorted.  “You’d be the first.  Most want to punch him in the face.  Which is exactly what I did and I can assure you it is in fact as gratifying as you hope it would be.”  She gave him a grin.  He huffed out a laugh before turning his attention to the movie.

After a few more moments, she looked back up at him.  “So… are you excited for school?”  

He groaned.  “No.”

She furrowed her brow.  She really wished she could go with him to help him at school.  She was nervous about making friends in her new school too, but at least she was used to school.  This was going to be Superboy’s first time going to school at all.  She really wanted to forget about the whole identity issue and go with him, or get them to send him to her school so she could keep a covert eye on him, but they wanted to keep him close.  “Sorry,” she mumbled instead.  “Do you know what you’re going to wear?”  

He looked at her for a second or two as he thought about it.  He motioned to his shirt and gave her a confused look.  She looked back at him in horror.  “You can’t wear that!  Secret identity.  You have to wear something different.”

He groaned and huffed at her.  He thought for a second then took off his shirt, turned it inside out, and put it back on that way.  Her eyes opened wide in surprise and she blushed heavily before turning back down to her sketchbook.  “Yeah, um… No.”  She stammered out, focusing solely on the blank page in front of her and willing her blush to go away.  This is not how teammates react to other teammates.  “I’ll come up with something else for you.  What colors do you like? “

He furrowed his brow and looked down at his shirt.  “Black… red…dark.”

She nodded, “Broody colors.  Got it.”  He scowled at her.  She gave him a cheeky grin.  “I’ll have something for you tomorrow.  We’ll work on what your style is as you decide what you like.  I should get your measurements though.”  She looked down at her notebook and started sketching again. After a few moments of sketching, she looked over shyly.  “But, so you know, maybe don’t do that at school.”  She said motioning toward his shirt.

He frowned at her, “Why?”

She stared at him incredulously for a few moments, trying to decide if he was serious or not.  She finally realized he was when he continued to frown at her, confused about her concern.  She wasn’t sure whether his innocence was incredibly sweet or concerning.  “Oh, my sweet summer child, I really wish I could be there to protect you tomorrow, but… identity, you know?  So I’m going to need you to protect yourself.”

“I’ll be fine.” He grumbled, turning to the movie.

She continued to stare at him a bit longer before speaking up again. “You know you’re handsome, right?”

His head whipped toward her, his eyes wide.  “You think so?”

She let out a disbelieving laugh and smiled at him.  “I know so.  Extremely handsome and broody.  A bad boy with a good heart.” His cheeks started turning pink as she spoke. Every word turned them darker.  “People are going to be falling all over themselves to get close to you.  Boys, girls, thems.  You’re going to get all of their attention.  Some will show it like Artemis, some more subtle, some less subtle. You’re going to get a lot of attention at school, people wanting to get close to you because you’re handsome, not everyone, but some.”  She paused to look at him earnestly.  “Just be careful.  Make friends with people who make you feel better, happier, lighter.  You don’t have to make friends with anyone, but if you meet someone you like, you should.  Although if it seems like something someone says is too good to be true, it probably isn’t.”  She warned him with a dark look crossing her eyes quickly.

“I don’t need more friends.  I have enough friends. Friends who think I’m extremely handsome.”  He grinned at her.

She burst out laughing not expecting him to be that bold.  She rolled her eyes.  “You don’t need more friends, but more friends can make life better sometimes.  If it’s the right people.”  He grunted and turned back to the movie.  

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, Chimera sketching different outfits for Superboy, Superboy watching the movie and frowning occasionally.  The silence was broken occasionally with Chimera asking him if he liked some element of a character’s costume or not.  About half an hour into the movie Superboy grumbled, “This movie is depressing.”

Chimera looked up from her third sketch and took notice of the movie again.  “What makes you say that?  The effects aren’t that bad, not for that time anyway. I mean the sword fighting could use some work and the accents are terrible, but… I think it’s fun.”

Superboy continued to watch the movie for a while longer.  “I don’t age either.”  He said quietly.  Chimera looked at him questioningly.  He sighed and looked down.  “I’ll be this age, physically at least, for the rest of my life.  Part of the cloning process.”

Chimera gave him a sad look and reached out her foot, the only part of her body that was close enough to touch him, to pat his leg.  “At least you’ll be hot.”  She offered with a sympathetic smile.  He huffed at her and returned to watching the movie, but he couldn’t help the small smile on his lips.

She watched the movie with him for a while longer watching as the main character’s wife died of old age in his arms while he was still the same age as when they met.  She frowned at the screen and said quietly, “I’ll age, but much, much slower than everyone else.”  Superboy looked over at her in surprise.  She offered him a mirthless smile.  “It’s part of the powers I have now.  I’ll live for centuries if I want to.”  She looked back to the movie and frowned as the main character buried his wife.  “I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.”

Superboy nodded at her.  “At least you’ll be hot.” He offered with a smile.

She laughed out loud at him.  Once she settled down she gave him a crooked smile.  “I’d take that more to heart if you had any idea what I look like.”

He gave her a small smile and watched the rest of the movie in silence.  When it was over, he looked over at Chimera to find her examining him with her eyes narrowed as though sizing him up.  “What?” he demanded.

“You should use the name Conner for school.”

“Like the guy in the movie?”

“Yeah.  You need a name.  Conner’s a good name.  I think it suits you.”  She nodded as she said it, like it was decided.

He fought the blush that wanted to appear again.  If she liked the name, that’s what it would be.  “I can live with Conner.” He nodded nonchalantly, trying not to give away how significant he thought it was.

“No, I live with Conner.”  She gave him a cheeky grin and started laughing at her own bad joke.  He groaned and threw a pillow at her.  Thankfully, she was in her suit because he threw it with enough force to burst the pillow open when it hit her.  She laughed harder as the fluff rained down on them.

“But, so you know, maybe don’t tell jokes like that at school.” He said in mock distain.

She smiled wistfully at her sketchbook.  “Yeah, I think my old partner rubbed off on me.  He would have loved that joke.”

“Old partner?”

“Yeah… um… I don’t think… identity secrets, you know?”

“Okay.  Can you say, is he still alive?”

“Yes, he is.”

“What happened?  Why isn’t he your partner anymore?”  He paused for a few seconds to gauge her reaction.  “If you can say.” He added quickly.

“I can’t…identity.”  She gave him an apologetic look.  They sat without looking at each other for a while.  “He’s not a hero anymore.” She whispered after a few minutes.  He looked up at her with wide eyes.  “Oh, no.  He didn’t become a villain.” She rushed to reassure him.  “He just… he went through a lot and decided to walk away.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Um…I miss…” She thought how to word her response.  She wanted to answer him honestly, but it wasn’t safe for anyone to know they were still close.  “Yes.”  She answered instead.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.  He was my teammate, my best friend.  I’m happy he did what he had to do to take care of himself.  He’s happier now, or he will be eventually.  And now I have a new team and more friends.  We both did what we had to do.”

Conner nodded and looked around the room trying to figure out how to make the air feel less awkward.  His eyes landed on the end of the credits.  “He’s not the guy that recommended this movie is he?  Because that is not a good friend.”

She barked out a laugh.  “He’s not.  But the one that recommended it is like a brother, so watch it.” She narrowed her eyes at him and pointed her pencil at him in mock threat.

“Maybe I’ll get to meet him someday then.” He kept his voice light but gave her an uncertain look.

She gave him a brilliant smile and nodded.  “I hope so.”  He smiled back at her and helped pick up the pillow fluff that surrounded them.

 Tags:

@mickylikesstuff @mystery-5-5 @roguishredaxion

[moxfirefly]

This comes as result of an idea and going through some hard times as of late. The reader here has their issues but hey we aren’t inherently perfect and I like getting into that mindset and seeing what comes up. So consider this somewhat introspective piece when a ‘relationship’ maybe isn’t the best.

Mikey x Fem!Reader

Rated Mature/Angst/Feels (18+ Only)

“I am human and I need to be loved”

A lifespan isn’t enough to understand that love is a complicated emotion. It’s addicting caress can remain in ones soul for ages. Love is kind they say, but what of those moments where it’s not? When the heart strangles itself and you choke on desperation?

Love isn’t perfect, that very imperfection glued us to those we worship. That hurt can be addicting as well.

He’s aware of it, he knows that his innocence only hides a questioning.

Because Mikey has gotten so good at hiding those dark parts that linger like shadows in his brain. There’s pain behind that smile, there’s sadness hidden beneath the foundation he’s lain.

You see it, you’re aware of it.

You can’t help but feel ashamed you’re the cause of it.

You want to take ownership of it but every time your mouth opens that tightness in your jaw increases. Before the words can be processed you’re doing most of the speaking with your hands.

And your lips.

Mikey’s never denied you, the thought of rejection paralyzes him so profoundly he aches. But it would be unwise to state there isn’t any trace of doubt. He’s mindful of your distaste for love, that you aren’t a believer. He’s mindful of what cracks inside of him when you flirt your way through the day. He’s at the forefront but he isn’t unwise to the way you linger a hand on Leo’s arm or how your eyes light up when April walks into a room.

Your eyes have that same bright hue when he’s the target. When it’s the two of you and your fingers map out a path on his thigh. It’s so palpable in the air that surrounds the two of you when you suddenly crash into him and swallow his soul whole.

You’re greedy.

The first time you had kissed him he swore there was no way he could verbally describe what erupted inside of him. He remembers it clearly like a fond dream, the way you had pushed him into a darken corner. Your hands on his waist, pink tongue tasting orange crush and sweets.

He had been so shy it had melted you. His hands tentatively resting on hips. Lips merely following your lead. When you had stopped with your lips lingering so closely to his, you had simply giggled and asked him where the night could take you both.

Mikey knows what whiplash feels like, but emotionally this was his first time. He let it go, slowly watched whatever this had meant leave his grasp.

He lets you lead.

You’re so greedy.

He can’t blame you as much as he can blame himself. This isn’t the only time naturally, he could switch the memories like tv stations, often settling on his favorite ones.

He tries to avoid the ones that hurt.

You want to blame life, blame all past events that led you to develop a thick skin. It’s so impenetrable, but the dents are here and there scattered across two decades. Mikey sees the road map of damage, it hides behind your smile and your nonchalant attitude towards the tomorrow. He kinda likes it though, that you can build up a wall for whatever tries to infiltrate your barrier.

He’s addicted to the fact that you allow him in, that your guard goes down when he’s there. Mikey just wishes he had a clearer read, that whatever is happening could have a description a fucking name tag maybe. But soon enough you’re jumping into his open and awaiting arms, pressing yourself so flush against him and whispering how much you just missed him.

Mikey doesn’t miss how you stick like glue to him one particular night. The gangs there, everyone watching some horror flick that Casey had brought over. He can’t keep his eyes straight when you’re so warm next to him, tracing lazy circles on his palm before gripping it like it was some habit.

You were a habit basically, a tick that comforted him and somehow kept him grounded into this plain of existence. It’s a rush of blood to the head. Something that swims inside of his soul, wraps around him like ivy.

You wish it could be simple, to face up and just accept the cards laid out. But you were never one to just take it at face value. Easy just wasn’t in your vocabulary and well, it’s obvious that it’s not in Mikey’s wether by proxy or his own doing.

So when you quietly excuse yourself and feel Mikey’s blue orbs follow you, you obviously text him to come with after a minute or so.

The minute he follows into his and Raph’s room and finds you sitting on his bed with your legs crossed looking pleased as punch, he knows he’s so utterly screwed. Cause he’d do anything to have that image frozen in time and place, just you and that beautiful smile that robs him of thought and oxygen. Even as you beckon him closer with a gleam in your eye that means trouble and a hundred more questions for Mikey to stay up all day and night over.

He follows.

He comes to the foot of his bed and almost overloads when the tip of that beckoning finger runs a path over what would be his navel. Mikey swallows hard, breathing through his nostrils.

It guts you how he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Mikey honest to god admires you like living breathing art. He takes a sharp inhale when you press your face to his clothed crotch and moan at the sensation that greets you. Mikey can’t erase the image of you, looking up at him as you push down his shorts, lust and what he registers might be love in your e/c orbs.

Much less when you take him into your mouth and the heat rushes down your body to your core. Your red cheeks hollowing in and creating such a tightness that Mikey whimpers, one hand gripping the back of your head and the other somehow interlocking with yours. It’s the intimacy of it, with your eyes fluttering closed as you take him as deeply as you possibly can. How his fingers play with yours.

Mikey tries to mumble something coherent out, he wants to tell you that he’s close and he knows it’s proper etiquete to tell you. It’s actually sweet and you almost giggle with a mouthful of him even when you feel nails dig into the back of your head as Mikey tries to not moan too loudly.

The way your throat bobs, lips swollen with a sticky sheen to them. He’s punch drunk, loves struck when he cups your cheeks and kisses you, tasting himself and falling further down into the rabbit hole that’s become the two of you not questioning this.

And god he should question it before his mind keeps running every possible scenario that’s caused this to be so unidentifiable. Because after that night he’s got radio silence from you for four days. He feels like a ghost floating around his brothers, going from motion to motion until he decides to take that step.

He shows up at your apartment, contemplates knocking on that window for fifteen minutes but what can he say? What does he want to ask? What if it drives you and whatever this is away?

He caves, eyes not so bright when you pull apart the curtains and he’s met with the same look he’s been sporting these past few days. You do smile though, that smile that digs nails into his soul. You let him come in, already putting on a mask that fits too perfectly.

“What’s wrong...Are you mad at me?” Mikey asks tentatively like peeling a hangnail. You freeze on your way to the kitchen, looking down at your bare feet like the answer might sprout from beneath them. “Nothings wrong, was just busy is all” It’s a pathetic excuse and not entirely truthful because you’ve been stewing in your apartment knowing full well that the boy behind you has planted roots in your heart.

And it scares the shit out of you.

So you turn, that shield up so high that Mikey notices and the whiplash is hard when you close the distance and wrap your arms around his neck. “What? Miss me that much?” Your scent hits him like a fresh hit to an addict. Four days without the warmth of your skin burning him. Mikey wants to test that shield, destroy it with his bare hands and find the real you in there, he pulls back far enough to look into your eyes and drown in them.

He quietly accepts his fate right then and there, ready to hand over his heart into your hands and watch you squeeze. And you see it all, your chest tight and jaw set, you run a finger across his cheek in such soothing slow motion. You want to tell him that this isn’t worth the heartache and headache, that you won’t come around any time soon.

Instead, you start to strip off his gear, bit by bit, each carefully taken apart. You untie his sweater from around his waist, hands lingering and maping out every detail you want forever engraved in your brain. You grab his hand and put them on you, a silent agreement for him to do the same. Mikey strips you out of your hoodie, finding a sports bra beneath it, eyes glued to new skin as he kneels and hooks his fingers in your shorts and slides them down slowly.

You walk him to your room, hand tightly clasped around his and there’s no hesitation in your steps because you want this and he wants this but every question that’ll come from this will just have to wait. You truly do go about things the wrong way.

The innocent touching makes your heart twist, the way his blue eyes run over you like you’re stolen art and he’s got dibs on it. It’s so sweet, asking his permission with a look to strip you of your bra, to run his hands towards the newly exposed flesh. It guts you so deeply when he pulls you close against him and just holds you, cause it dawns on you that Mikey has never held somebody this intimately. You shiver with the way he circles your back in ghostly touches, just basking in what it feels to feel your skin so close to his.

“We don’t have to do this” ‘I don’t want to hurt you’

“It’s okay, I just...Don’t disappear on me like that please” Mikey feels you tighten your grip on him and it takes every inch of his resolve to not crumble and just say that he loves you, that he’s loved you from the moment you rested your head on his shoulder, from the moments you’ve kissed him and made his head so clouded with questions of ‘If’ and ‘maybe’ but he knows he won’t be met with the same words.

Maybe not now, or simply not at all.

So he holds you close, even as you start to tremble, feeling tears on his shoulder. You can’t say anything, you can’t say a single damn thing.

See I've already waited too long

And all my hope is gone

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #13

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

[AO3]

((edited because I figured out to add some more history facts that I think are important))

~POV Sinbad~

"The Kou Empire, huh?"

"That is going to make things risky."

With all of the Generals caught up with what happened in Balbadd, they needed to start planning for King Sinbad's trip to the Kou Empire, as well as catching him up with everything that had happened in Sindria while he was gone.

"LadY YamuRAI H AA AA A" A yell came from the hallway accompanied by the sounds of running.

((Sinbad is hidden on the left. There's a hint of him poking out.))

A panting magician gave apologies for disturbing their meeting and ran to the head of Sindria's magicians. "I wish I knew you were here so I didn't search the tower first~" Then he started explaining about some magical proof. Most of his words sounded like gibberish to the rest, but it was clear that he had made some kind of break though.

Yam jumped out of her seat. "How did you finally figure it out?! Who figured it out?!" She whipped her head to her King, "Sorry your majesty," and then looked back to the other magician.

"It was the work of the Prophet!” the magician answered. "We were talking about her illness and she pulled out scrolls that- you just have to read them for yourself!”

Mori had said that she had written other scrolls before she started coping down Fate. This must have been what she was working on.

Both magicians bowed out to go test out this new information. Before they could leave, Sinbad ended the meeting; there was no way he was going to wait to learn what other information Mori had blessed them with. Ja'far followed as did a few of the other Generals.

When they got into the court yard, the doctors that had been sent to take care of Mori were already pushing their supply cart back to their main building. The magician that had stayed behind spotted them and raised two scrolls up triumphantly. "She let me take the scrolls!"

---

News of the scrolls written by a Prophet spread throughout the Black Libra Tower within an hour. Yamuraiha and the doctors explained their significance to King Sinbad.

If even a fraction of the theories in the scrolls proved true it would completely changed their understanding of how illnesses work. If Mori wasn't sick she would undoubtedly be swarmed with questions and demands for proof. According to the magicians, nothing in the scrolls went against any known information. Instead, they gave explanations to why certain things that had been attempted in the past had failed. What she wrote about 'cells' was what really caught the eyes of the white magicians and doctors. As an example, according to Mori's writing there were blood types and most couldn't mix; that would explain why most past attempts at blood transfusions had failed.

The 2nd scroll showed a break down of even smaller particles, and how the structures of different particles made up everything. This was going to bring alchemic magic to a whole new era. Sure, such things would most likely be limited to high magicians, group efforts, and the Magi, but it looked possible now. A lot of common magic of the current day took extreme amounts of magoi in the past because they hadn't found the right formula yet. Mori's writing -if true- could easily be used as a guide to finding the right order of commands for many spells.

And even more than that, Mori had said that she had even more information to share; she had just ran out of scrolls and ink.

Mori's presence in Sindria, and everything that went with it were Fate and the Rukh's guidance. King Sinbad could see it -the future he wanted.

---

~POV Mori~

In Sindria's Palace there is a Great Bell. It is rung during celebrations, and to signify the King returning home like it did earlier that day, but it's main use was to ring every 2 hours to tell everyone the time since clocks weren't invented yet. So even though I was a sick person trying to rest during the day, I was woken up by the Great Bell every 2 hours... which of course is also situated right on top of the guest tower.

For obvious reasons, I was awake again.

I wish I knew how the others responded to the scrolls. I really wanted to know Yam's opinion most. Those scrolls basically gave away the secret to Yunan's signature alchemy magic.

I still had the first scroll I had worked on -the one on the science behind blimps-, and the last science scroll I had started. That one was on DNA, and reproductive systems. It was the last one I started in Balbadd. I hadn't started working on it until sunrise on my 2nd sleepless night and it showed; there were missing words everywhere, many incomplete sentences, and I couldn't stay in topic.

These mistakes were too great to fix with an ink knife. Editing was going be super annoying and time consuming since I couldn't work digitally. I'd have to physically cut up the first draft to put everything in the right order before making the next one.

Wait- Did this world have scissors???

Back home the first evolution of shears that could be labeled as scissors was in Roman barber shops in the last hundred years or so before Rome fell. China would spontaneous also create something akin to scissors not long after. Reim and the Kou Empire seemed to line up with Rome and ancient China for the most part, so I tend to use them to place the time period, but the dress Princess Dunya wears is centuries off and throws all historical accuracy questions out the window. Rome was long gone by the time boning was added to women's undergarments, and that dress had all the signs of boned corsetry.

Fuck it. I'll ask for scissors and if they don't have them I'll just invent them myself. I had been drafting professionally for the past 4 years. That may have been for microelectronics, but it uses all the same skills; I could do this. I needed to get a ruler -or at least a straight edge- and a drafting compass which they probably have based on the look of maps in the series, and pencils, or at least colored inks if they had them. I probably needed to reinvent the French curve(stencil tool used in art & drafting)...

Since I was struggling to fall back asleep I moved to the table and pulled out my test scroll. It was full of random marks and some of my early drawing attempts that I used to practice with the dip pen -it's also where I wrote down the dreams from the Rukh. I'd write the list of things I needed, rip the section out of the scroll, and pass the list to someone who could get me what I was asking for. I added some living necessities too like sleep wear and a comb.

The maids that came to give me dinner, and next dose of medicine were not pleased that I wasn't in bed -I was an important guest who was sick after all. And I wasn't pleased to have to drink more of that bitter medicine, but we can't have nice things all the time, now can we?

My voices was strained but I managed to communicate enough. I gave them my list, and laundry (the clothes I wore on the boat) before they left. They'd get me the things the next day. I was instructed to sleep until someone brings me breakfast the next day... which is what I was going to do anyway since the sun was practically gone. I might be a bit of a workaholic but I'm not going to let myself pull an accidental all-nighter when I know I'm still sick. I'm far more self aware than that.

And besides, the Great Bell didn't ring at night.

---

Maids brought my breakfast (& meds) the next morning and let me know that my clothes would be cleaned and dry by the end of the day. I guess they didn't use magic for everything.

They also gave me all of the drafting and inking supplies I asked for except for scissors. In one of the omakes Sinbad was shown cutting his hair with a knife as a part of his normal grooming. I had hoped he was just old fashioned.

For the greater good and the future of my own hair care, I drafted up detailed designs for a few different types of basic scissors. They wouldn't look fancy, but hopefully I had put enough of a detailed explanation on everything for the smith to figure out what I was asking. Steel wasn't developed until the middle ages and some of the counties of this world matched that so I hoped

that God and anime were on my side. I really wanted scissors that would be a good quality.

And if that didn't work I'd just have to get used to using knives and bladed rollers like a regular person.

The Great Bell rung for 10 am. There were at least another 2 hours before someone would show up, to give lunch, that I could ask to take my draft for the scissors to a black Smith.

I should be resting as a sick person. I should be more exhausted and in pain as a sick person. What was making me recover this quickly?

I still didn't feel like laying back down, so I decided to start drafting up the materials and equipment for proving everything I had written in the scrolls I gave the previous day.

Globally, micro-organisms, viruses, and bacteria were not really accept or proved until the late 1800's. Since Magi seems to take place some time around our 100AD-1300, and Yunan hinting at chemical compounds was seen as shocking by Yam, I knew that my bio scrolls were probably causing an uproar in the Black Libra Tower. I refused to use actual people or wait for an outbreak to prove it like how it happened in history -like how John Snow proved it when finding the cause of cholera outbreaks in 1848 and 1854 England. No, I needed to show how to prove these things in a lab, and to do that I was going to need to explain how to keep samples and invent a way to see microorganisms.

First was for a glass petri dish and other containers for samples. I'd need at least 3 -preferably more. I know glass works have been around since BC, and that this world had glass windows in some scenes, but I worried about the quality of the glass contaminating the experiments. I was going to have to boil them beforehand to sterilize them anyway.

Gosh I wish I had access to nonporous, air tight containers, and a temperature controlled environment. The heat and humidity of Sindria could easily mess everything up.

Wait... I suddenly remembered a scene from the Magnostadt arc when they showed how a sample was being stored. They already had good enough glass. I knew there were magic bio experiments but I had no idea how they worked.

With the realization that I was getting ahead myself, I switched to writing about how to use the scientific method to test for germs. It was basically the bread in a bag test to teach young children about germs but with petri dishes. I also wrote about how to analyze samples with a microscope to see micro organisms so I was going to have to figure that out next.

Lunch came as the perfect break.

Just thinking about reinventing this thing made me nervous. I knew magnifying glasses existed in ancient Rome, but they would be nothing like what I was used to. I had to explain how light moves and made multiple diagrams showing how concave and convex lenses affect light as well as the material of the lens. I ended up also showing how to make a telescope even though I knew Yam already had one.

Magicians were the only ones shown with glasses. Maybe now the rest of the world could have them too.

4 o'clock came and so did 3 doctors and a magician. It was less than yesterday, but still more than necessary to treat or analyze one person. I only recognized one of the doctors from the previous day. All of the new faces looked nervous. None of them looked young by any measure, so I really doubted this was their first time treating someone.

They weren't happy to see me at the table and made me return to my bed -their loss.

The doctor from the previous day was the one doing most of the talking. "Your recovery is amazing. You will most likely be better in another 3 days at this rate if not sooner. It's practically a miracle."

I smiled. "It's pretty shocking for me too." As long as I spoke quietly and kept my comments short, I found I could talk again for a bit.

The doctor was silent for a moment before changing the subject. "I know you need rest, but would you be willing to answer a few questions about those scrolls from yesterday?

The 3 other men looked expectant. This was why they were here.

"I don't mind as long as you don't make me talk too much."

Then came the question I was expecting since I had first made the scrolls. "I know you are a Prophet and the information came from your visions but is there any way you can prove what you wrote?"

I pointed to the table with the scroll I had started earlier. "I can't prove it with the current equipment I have, so I've been drafting up the needed equipment and processes for proving it."

They all turned to look at where I was pointing.

I added, "It's not done, but you're welcome to read what I have so far."

I was thanked as they went to the table they had called me away from when they entered.

'He called it 'visions?' Really?' I had to ask Sinbad later what he was telling his people about me so I could keep the story straight.

The magician confirmed for the others what I wrote about light bending. There was magic to do that, but not everyone is a magician. I had just invented a way for non-magicians to bend light.

Just wait until I show them a prism that can split light into colors. Or teach them how light is perceived in the eye. Or even better, show them the double slit experiment that proves that light is a particle not just a wave... Did they know light was a wave yet?

"Lady Prophet."

I was pulled out of my thoughts.

"You said this isn't finished and there is plenty of space in this scroll for more, but would you let us take this back to the tower so we can get started?"

I wanted to say 'no.' I was still coming up with things to add to it, but I also knew that holding things back because I wanted to save paper was a fool's game. Besides, I could always add more to it later.

I nodded and they thanked me before making me promise not to leave my bed. They were grateful for this new scroll but not at the expense of my health -they were doctors after all.

And then they left.

It was probably about 5pm if my internal clock was on schedule, so I had about an hour before the next ring of the Bell.

Even if I wasn't a man of my word, I would have lost the motivation to work with my current project taken from me while I was still in the middle of making it.

So, I did the thing I grew up doing when I was bedridden from illness: I looked out the window. From the bed I could only see the tops of the buildings on the other side of the courtyard. The Tower that was just poking in from the left had to be the Black Libra Tower.

The waves in Sindria were calmer yet stronger than those in Balbadd. It was probably due to Sinbad's influence. He brought stability and security to his people. I could understand why so many chose to follow him or ally with him. But I knew where all this would lead. As he obtains more power and influence he will stop being able to see himself from the pedestal that he and everyone else put him on; his greed will make him blind to the wants and needs of others, and like a middle aged parent that isn't ready for their child to leave the nest he will take out his frustration on the world that was moving on without him. When Sinbad dies at the end of the manga, Drakon realizes that they all put too much on Sinbad's shoulders.

To change Fate, I was going to have to make sure I never put him on that pedestal nor rely on him for much. And I was going to have to convince the 8 Generals to do the same -or at least to start pulling more of the weight.

The 6 o'clock Bell came faster than I expected, as well as my dinner not long after. They brought my clean laundry, a sleeping gown, and some other common clothes and things for my convenience.

I would have preferred something much shorter for the night gown since I hate having a lot of extra fabric around my legs when I already have blankets. I was not going to risk being walked in on by doctors or whoever when sleeping naked, so I would make do for now.

There was no way King Sinbad wasn't going to reward me for those scrolls. If it was some kind of treasure I'd sell it and buy a new wardrobe for myself that actually suited me, and if the reward was a request then I would ask that he pay for everything directly.

The light coming in my windows changed, and I watched my 2nd sunset in Sindria.

When Sinbad found this island 10 years ago, he completely terraformed it. He didn't get rid of all of the vegetation that was here, but he did break down one of the sides to allow for easier access by boat. The side he carved out faced northish towards all of the other known countries, so no boat would have a reason to circle the island. It was a decision that would benefit the merchants and make it easier to defend.

It also meant that my windows faced west, so I could watch the Sun set every day. I couldn't help but see that as a blessing and a curse. Sure not getting the sunrise meant I'd need to put more effort into

waking up in the morning but that wasn't the part I was worried about.

See- The thing is... I have synesthesia (having 2 or more senses overlapping). I see sounds, letters, and numbers as colors and textures. I have it mild enough that I can normally block it out so it's not too distracting (thank God because music is a main stim), but sometimes I'll hear something and get overwhelmed by how it looks.

Each letter and number is a color. So every voice can make every color, but language, pitch, tone, and accent all affect the colors and textures I see from a person's voice like a filter. There have definitely been some people that I struggled to give my full attention to when I first met them because I was entranced by how their voice looked. The more I hear a person's voice the more I'm able to move its visuals to the background so I can focus -desensitizing myself to it.

Luckily, Sinbad's voice is normally not so distracting that I stop paying attention. Since it's like a merger of every voice actor I've heard play him (All the characters I had met so far were like this.) I'm already desensitized. The similarities across all of the VAs meant that his voice looked like a sunset -full of deep purples and magentas, and bright reds, peach, and gold, and with a smooth and flowing texture like painting in acrylic with a wet brush -like a painting of the last moments of a sunset.

His voice was as pretty as he was.

I hadn't actually gotten to see or hear him for a whole day. But I'd get to look at his voice's equivalent every day while living under his protection.

It was frustrating to admit -I barely knew him as a real person- yet I couldn't deny that I missed him. I feel asleep watching the sun set.

((I wasn't going to write about my synesthesia, but this is my fanfic and I thought it might be fun to reference the colors peoples voices make when the characters talk. I'm not going to paint every VA and head cannon, but I will describe them as I go. Ja'far's Japanese and English VAs have voices that look very different so finding the middle ground is proving tricky.

Also, anyone who noticed that the purple I see in Sinbad's voice is the same as the purple I've been using for the illustrations and comics is super smart and cool.))

[writingsbymarie]

Midsummer part 2 JJ Maybank x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst and fluff

Pairing: JJ x reader 

Word count: 1.6k

part 1

A/N: I most likely will be writing a part 3 because I’m really liking this concept, so I might turn tis into a mini series. Also my requests are open and I have a prompt list that you guys can send in numbers for JJ I’m feeling really inspired to write currently. 

You felt free. Your hand in JJs as you fled the midsummer ball with a smile on your face you felt the wind blowing your hair. You ran with your best friends to the van. JJ opened the door for you with a smile and you took a seat on the passenger side. JJ started up the car and you guys headed to a more private location. 

You helped JJ start a fire, and you all sat in a circle. That's when John B. said he had found the gold.

“No fucking way” you gaped.

“Damn haven’t heard you swear like that I think ever” JJ laughed.

“Here we go again” pope sighed

“The golds been here the whole time, on the island” John B claimed and you couldn’t believe and he went on to explain his evidence and the letter and you were least to say convinced, but Kie wasn’t too happy about Sarah Cameron being involved. You decided to not join that fight because you didn’t mind Sarah Cameron and when Kie was mad you did not mess with her. John B. then left to go get the map from Sarah Cameron and the rest of you went back to sit in the van. JJ took a seat right next to you. Your legs were touching and every time his legs or arms bumped you it started a fire on your skin. You were so hyper-aware of his touch it was almost embarrassing. All you wanted to do was be in his arms, but you knew that wouldn’t happen. 

“I can’t believe we actually might find the gold” you exclaimed shaking away your thoughts off JJ

“Not might we will, we have to” JJ restated. “Manifestation. If you really believe you are going to do something you will only positive energy Y/N”

“Since when did you become such an optimist?” Kie laughed.

“Since he found out there is 400 million worth of gold” Pope pointed out and all of you laughed.

“John B. is definitely macking on Sarah Cameron,” JJ laughed. “But I mean she's hot and rich so I guess go for it” You hated that it hurt when he said Sarah was hot. You were jealous. You never got jealous, you hated that feeling. You hated what jealousy makes people do and it scared you that even a statement like that made you angry.

“Ew JJ, shes a bitch! The “kook princess” we don’t associate with them” Kie spat.

“Calm down Kie we wouldn’t have gotten this close without her, yes I don’t like her, but if we need her for the gold then I guess she's with us” Pope debated. 

“I have to say I agree with Pope on this one Kie” you admitted. 

“Same here” JJ said. You were about to say something when you heard screams for help in the distance. You all came running out of the car to see Sarah Cameron sobbing on the ground with an unconscious John B. You felt your heart sink. 

“Please get help. Topper he- he pushed him and he fell” Sarah sobbed and Kie went running to get help. You felt tears escape your eyes as you fell to the ground next to John B. You put your fingers to his wrist to feel a pulse. You felt a small bit of relief but you knew he needed help now.

“He has a pulse” you started taking a deep breath to stop yourself from a full blown panic attack. You grabbed John B's hand and cried with Sarah. The rain started to pour down and all you felt was dread. JJ was by your side, his hand in your free hand. It felt like ages before the Ambulance came. As they carried his body into the Ambulance you began to Sob. John B was like your brother. He was your neighbor for 12 years, and he was your best friend. That's when you felt JJ embrace you in a hug. You wrapped your arms around his torso and cried into his chest. He stroked your hair as he cried with you. After a short period of time you pulled away. Kie and Popes parents had already picked them up. Your mom was most likely asleep because she didn’t answer so you were going to go home with JJ. 

“We should go wash up and go home, we can go see him in the morning. Hes been through so much he will make it through this” you sniffled. Your mascara had to be running down your face from the tears and rain.

“I'm going to kill him” JJ seethed looking down at the ground.

“JJ come on let's go you promised you’d stay with me tonight”

“I can’t just let him get away with this Y/N this is the second time hes almost killed my best friend we can’t keep letting them walk all over us with no consequence”

“I know, trust me I know, but he wouldn’t want you to go on a rampage”

“Y/n i have to do something”

“Please don’t make me go home alone” you pleaded with your eyes glossy. JJs face softened and he wiped a tear from your cheek.

“Okay” he whispered. He grabbed your hand and led you back to the van. The drive was silent, but a comfortable silence. All that mattered was that he was next to you. He was with you. JJ parked the van in your driveway and you both got out. 

“We have to be quiet okay?” you said and JJ nodded. You grabbed his hand as you slowly opened the door and led him up the stairs. You passed your little sister's room as slowly and quietly as you could. Your room was the furthest from everyone and had its own bathroom, so you knew it would be easy to keep your parents from finding out about the boy who would be staying in your room. When you finally entered your room you took a deep breath. Your clothes were soaked and your headache. You white dress was covered in mud and you looked straight out of a horror movie. 

“I have some clothes of yours here from when we had everyone over a couple weeks ago so you can wear that’ you said grabbing the clothes from inside your closet. He nodded, grabbing it. “You take a shower in my bathroom and Ill go take one in the one down the hall okay”and with that he headed to the bathroom and closed the door. You felt tears sting your eyes, but you held them in. You grabbed your Pajamas walking down the hall to your sister's bathroom. You closed the door and began to peel off your soaked white dress that was now more brown than white. You stepped in the shower and began to wash your body under the hot water. You were so sad, and tears began to fal again. You found yourself on the floor of the shower knees pulled to your chest. When you finally got yourself together you turned off the water and dried your body. You slipped on black sweatpants and an orange tank top. You took a deep breath and began to walk back your bedroom. You knocked lightly on the door to make sure you didn’t walk in on him changing.

“Yeah” you heard.

“Are you decent” you asked

“Yep” and with that you opened the door. His hair was messy and damp. His eyes were puffy and so were yours. You took a seat next to him on your bed and he leaned his head on your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry” he whispered

“For what” 

“For being a burden, for making you worry”

“JJ you are not a burden and worrying is what I do, don’t ever tell me that your sorry, You’re my best friend and I love you, it's my job to worry about you” The words I love you came out of your mouth without even thinking. You were glad he had his face on your shoulder so he couldn’t see how tomato red your face was. 

“I love you too Y/n, thank you” and with that you wanted to cry, because you loved JJ so much it hurt you, and you knew it would never happen. He may love you but as a best friend and that's it.  JJ lifted his head up to meet your eyes and you immediately looked down and tears began you prickle your eyes. JJs hand met your chin and lifted your head to look at him. He wiped a tear from your cheek and pulled you into his body, You wanted him to kiss you. You wanted to kiss him, but if this was all you were going to get then you were going to be okay with that. You cried in his arms and played with your wet hair. 

“Everything is going to be okay” he whispered, placing a kiss on your head. Your friend was in the hospital after falling five stories and here you were crying over the boy who has you in his arms. You felt selfish, but you couldn’t let go.

“We should sleep” you yawned, pulling from his embrace, and he nodded.

“I can sleep on the couc-”

“No” you interrupted. “Um the bed is big enough for both of us” 

“Okay”  he replied and you climbed up the covers and he followed. You weren't sure how to lay until JJ pulled your body into his. You nuzzled into his chest and in this moment you felt home. You felt complete unconditional love for this boy, and you were so unaware that he was head over heels for you too

[bondsmagii]

anonymous submitted:

Let's talk about sleep paralysis! I have some wild theories, feel free to believe them or not, but this has been my gatherings after over 15 years of experiences. So - after years of Slffering from it, I've slowly learned how to control my sleep paralysis. I can morph them into cool/interesting incidences now, and have even begun using it as a jumpoff for lucid dreaming. (Disclaimer: Not reccomended if you can't control it yet, please don't try to induce SP unleash you're TOTALLY prepared for it. I don't want anybody to get hurt. And still, I cannot guarantee my own results. This took YEARS of practice.) Anyway, I've found that if you're able to force one small body part to move or jerk your head (repeatedly til it works), you can break out of patalysis at will. It takes some high focus, and becoming conscious of your physical body vs your sleeping self. You CAN move, it's just difficult. Jerk your head, snap your eyes open, or set an alarm if this planned. You'll feel intense heaviness upon waking and a strange desire to fall right back to sleep, but you'll need to sit up straight and fully wake yourself up to end it, otherwise you'll just resume it as soon as you fall asleep again. There's probably a reason for that, actually. What I may have learned through these trials is that sleep paralysis might just be the nightly beginning of the sleep cycle that we aren't meant to be conscious for. Let me run my theory by you. There was a point in my life where sleep paralysis would occur every single time I slept. Every night, it'd start with a buzzing hum that I'd kind of "melt" into, like tinnitus slowly washing over til it's all you can hear. And suddenly, I can't move. Horrific entities bearing down on me.I don't need to go into detail, you've been there. I didn't understand why, until I slowly realized I'd been conscious of the entire business of falling asleep - and that it was a several-step process. Body falls asleep first, mind follows. That's why most people don't remember the act of falling asleep and just seem to become conscious in dreams once they've already begun without you. You're paralyzed because your body is dreaming and you aren't supposed to be conscious yet. It's perhaps a REM stage that's supposed to be painless, nothing. I tested this theory by forcing myself to be calm through my nightly episodes. They would happen regardless, so I may as well try to make them less horrific, right? I would slow my heart rate using breathing exercises. I observed what was happening rather than panicking, and noticed that crushing weight on my chest slowly shift into this peaceful, almost pleasant sinking-down feeling. Like heavy water pulling you down, like a cool blanket of static coccooning around you. And sink down I did - right through this strange buzzing dark haze and directly into dreams. Most of them starting lucid. I was completely conscious of them, sometimed even seeing the dream world "load in" and fill in textures and buildings and skyline. It was surreal. I tested this over and over, and every time got the same result. If I "survived" the paralysis and just calmed, I'd drop into dreams. Sometimes I'd litrrally feel myself sink into my bed, going "below" consciousness. Soon I mapped out the enitirety of the process. Waking, pre-sleep imaginings, those imaginings getting surreal as my brain drifted, static hum overtaking, the ordeal of paralysis, and then I'd sink into what I began calling "The Platform". It was this shifting midpoint between dream-awake where it'd allow me to choose my own dreams. Sometimes I'd see dreams floating movie-like in bubbles at the edge of a void, sometimes I'd see a hall of doors, sometimes I'd literally land on a platform and build dreams from nothing, sometimes I'd fall straight through the void and start the dream flying. Now, as an aside, I am someone who experiences chronic nightmares. Almost all of my dreams have some "horror" element to them, to the point where I've learned to forcibly wake myself up by snapping my "real" physically eyes open. Now I'm overall

able to exert control over them, and overall more conscious of the state of dreaming. I can enjoy them like first-person horror movies and nope the hell out when shit gets too Sideways. The only ones that get me bad now are ones that feel real enough to hurt (real world fears like loved oned dying) ordered ones that deal with a specific phobia that makes me lose my shit. A lot of the method seems to do with "feeling" your real body outside of the dream and understanding that your dream/metaphysical(?) self is a separate entity. I wish I could describe how to do that better - its sort of how you center your body during grounding excersises. Forcing myself awake from nightmares and yanking myself out of sleep paralysis feel extremely similar. I've given myself a sort of Eject Button. Anyhow - I began talking to my SP entities and exerting some gentle control over the whole scene. Changing the power dynamic, de-escalating scary situations by joking with the entities, standing up for myself or catching them off guard. I still get terrifying incidents where I'm attacked or forced to view esoteric horrors, but, well.. I'm a horror movie fan. Sometimes creepy imagery is cool and enjoyable, and now I can cut it off if I want to. I'll even sass them if they get rude. I think I differ in beliefs with you in that I do believe that SP has a spiritual aspect (the same way that dreams do), but I recognize the psychological element as well. I think they go hand in hand, and in finding this I've been able to turn something that was deeply traumatizing into something pretty neat. Thanks for listening, friend. I'm sure this is long and rambling, but I felt like I needed to tell someone, and you seemed like the right person to tell. Be well, I hope you have pleasant dreams, or at least that your nightmares are very cool.

this is actually very impressive, because yeah. this is exactly how and why sleep paralysis happens! I always find it interesting when people arrive at a theory through their own investigation, and it adds up with official findings -- if the time and the place had been a little different, you would have been the person to pioneer the theory! but essentially yes, this is precisely why it happens and why it can be used as a platform for lucid dreaming. when you sleep, your body enters a natural state of paralysis to ensure that you don't injure yourself while sleeping. sometimes this goes wrong, but the usual failure is seen in sleepwalking -- the paralysis stops, the body wakes, the mind does not, and the person wanders around acting out their dreams or perhaps going about their usual morning routine on autopilot.

sometimes, though, it's the other way around. your brain is still awake, but your body is asleep. your dreams translate as vivid hallucinations, you can't move because of the natural paralysis (and this feeling translates itself as a heaviness, especially on the chest, resulting in the all-too-common description sleep paralysis has become known for: the feeling of something sitting or pressing on your chest) and the feeling of dread is likely because of the realisation somewhere deep down that something is very wrong; that you're not supposed to be experiencing this. some people theorise that's why sleep paralysis is overwhelmingly a terrifying event -- rarely do you hear stories of pleasant hallucinations, and this is likely because of the fact we're terrified on some level, aware that something is very unusual. combine this with the fact that sleep paralysis happens to most people only rarely -- once or twice in their lives -- and it's clear that many people don't have the opportunity to understand what happened and become familiar with it.

you're also correct in your observation that moving a small part of the body can snap you out of it. generally it's better to focus on a small part -- moving all of you is too much, but focusing on a small part like a finger or toe is much more effective. it takes a lot of effort, but the effect on the paralysis is instantaneous. the dread and the heavy feeling may take a while to pass, though. another trick to minimise how unpleasant sleep paralysis is is to keep your eyes closed. you can still sense things, and some people might hear things, but overwhelmingly the worst hallucinations are visual. keeping your eyes closed means you at least don't have to see what's crawling up your bed!

I'm like you in the way that I enjoy horror, and I also find sleep paralysis fascinating. now that I know what it is and how to get out of it, I very often just let it run its course -- at least until things get too repetitive or spooky, and then I snap myself out of it. it's absolutely incredible to see what tricks the human mind can play. the hallucinations are so incredibly real, and it's a brilliant opportunity to observe while being in no real danger. only a couple of times have I come across something genuinely paranormal during a sleep paralysis episode -- or what I thought was one, anyway. thankfully it doesn't mimic it exactly, so I can continue to enjoy watching the wild shit my brain comes up with in relative peace.

[carelessannie]

here’s the second part of my winteriron mermay au! enjoy!

while we’re devoting full time to floating chapter two: boy you better do it soon

Rating: M (for now) Word Count: 6.8K Relationships: Tony x Bucky Warnings: Smut adjacent (unintentional sex toys), sexual tension, profanity, kinda drug/alcohol use Read on AO3 Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

- - -

His eyes blink open slowly. It’s strange to wake up without a blinding headache. Actually, it’s strange to wake up without any pain. And with the sun shining in his face.

To his left, he sees a small form on the water’s surface. In his mind’s eye he knows the form is familiar, knows that there should be someone inside— but it slips quickly, evading his memory as the dark form fades over the horizon.

Tony shakes his head. He smacks his lips.

Where is he?

First of all, he’s definitely not in the ocean. It seems like he’s resting on some type of rock formation, with just his tail hydrated in the water. Interesting. He seems to be inside a cove, the shelter working wonders to hide him from the mid-afternoon sun.

Secondly, he’s alone. He never travels alone, especially not to the shore. It hurts to try and remember, but reality slams into him like an orca whale. Rhodey and Pepper. The exploration to colonize. The fucking Tiger Sharks, dammit! Tony’s tail slaps the surface of the water in frustration, and he lets his body slip into the shallow pool.

He hopes the sharks didn’t get his friends. The memory of the fight is hazy at best, but he knows he shouldn’t be feeling this good afterwards— he’s pretty sure he got hit at least once. There are no scratches or bruises anywhere on his body, and it’s confusing that he doesn’t even have a headache.

That’s a problem for later, though. Now, Tony needs to find his friends— or, what remains of his friends. He swims out of the cove and down, through the reefs. Fish seem to be tentatively peeking out of their hiding spots, and he follows the empty spaces to trace the path a shark might have taken. He whistles, sharp and quick, to try and map out the figures in the surrounding area, and is satisfied when his call is returned with a low chirp. Thank the sea.

“Rhodey!” he hollers, pushing through the crowded reef, searching wildly for his closest friend, his faithful number two. As Tony breaks into the clearing, he freezes at the sight in front of him.

Rhodey and Pepper are swimming territorial circles around all three Tiger Sharks— and, from the looks of it, all three are dead.

“Tony!” Pepper notices him first and beckons him closer. When he swims up, she throws her arms around his neck, sobbing briefly into his shoulder, before reeling back and lightly slapping his arm, “How dare you worry me like that! I was sure all we’d find were scales— how did you get away?”

“I…” Tony tries to remember, he really does, but the only things coming to mind are brilliant blue eyes, an ethereal glow, and a deep, alluring voice, “I think someone saved me. But, by the time I woke up, they were gone.”

“You didn’t recognize them?” Rhodey swims closer, looking him up and down, inspecting for injuries.

“No, I don’t… I don’t think they’re part of the Kingdom,” Tony murmurs, reaching up to subconsciously play with his signet ring. His memory is usually so sharp, it’s strange that—

“Holy shit, Tony— look!” Pepper interrupts, pointing at his chest. He looks down, but all he can see is a slight illumination around his sternum.

“What—”

“Stay still,” Rhodey snaps, gently lifting the ring off of his skin. Pepper reaches in to trace a delicate circle on his chest, and both of his friends look awestruck. And afraid. He tries to crane his neck and see, but all he notices is that the glow fades the longer the ring is kept from touching his body. Rhodey hums, thoughtfully, “Seems like the ring is enchanted. I haven’t encountered a witch in ages— but I guess one came out of hiding to save you.”

“I guess. Pep, do you have a mirror?” The longer Rhodey holds the ring, the tighter Tony’s chest feels. He plucks it out of Rhodey’s hand as Pepper pulls a mirror out of her satchel, turning it around so Tony can take a look.

His signet ring lays in the center of his chest, a steady weight, and radiates a faint glow. It’s more concerning that, surrounding the ring, there’s a few inches of light emanating from under his skin. Tony reaches up to trace it— the gold ring and blue haze, so similar to the eyes he remembers saving him. Still, nothing hurts, and Tony pushes the mirror away.

He ignores their concerned looks and starts to tie up the sharks, concentrating on getting them back to the Kingdom before any larger predators arrive to investigate. After a moment, both of them swim down to help him, shouldering the bodies and heading back towards the Kingdom’s butcher.

It’s a few more minutes before Tony breaks the silence, giving his friends a break, “So, uh… do you think I’ll be a lanternfish forever?” He throws them a smirk and laughs at Pepper’s exasperated sigh.

Rhodey bumps into his shoulder, “You have trouble blending in as it is— at least now we’ll be able to keep track of you… in night clubs.”

Tony gwuafs, offended, and shoves at Rhodey’s shoulder. With everyone happy and laughing, it’s easy to forget about his mysterious savior and the inevitable conversation he’s going to have with his father later on. They head straight for the butcher when they enter the city, several citizens cheering and praising their kill. Tony knows he’ll get the credit for it, even though it was Rhodey and Pepper who slew the sharks, so he takes off as soon as they drop the bodies, heading to the castle to see the King.

---

Hours later, Tony sits at the far perimeter between two sentinels, staring out into the open ocean. The nocturnal fish have emerged, sending an eerie glow onto the city as the lights dim, throwing the Kingdom into gentle darkness. It does nothing to soothe Tony’s anger.

He takes Pepper’s satchel, full of rocks and shells and other samples from their journey, and dumps it over the side of the wall. Useless. It’s almost as if his dad doesn’t even want to explore anymore, just sending Tony out to keep him distracted. And he knows that’s probably the case, he’s not stupid, but he can tell there’s something deeper his dad isn’t telling him.

Well, fuck ‘im. Tony’s more than capable of figuring it out on his own.

For now, he stares out into the distance, throwing a silent Tony pity party.

There’s movement in the distance. At first, Tony thinks it’s debris. It’s not uncommon for items to fall from the surface— but this object suddenly twists, and he sees… shit, he sees arms. Fuck. It’s a person.

“Stay alert,” he instructs the guard on his right, “I’m gonna check it out.”

Tony takes off into the dark, distantly aware that one of the guards is hot on his tail, and heads straight for the figure still drifting towards the ocean floor. He slows down as he approaches, thankful for the light in his chest that illuminates his surroundings. When he gets to the spot, sand is settling in a cloud around where the figure landed. It takes a moment for everything to clear, and Tony waits patiently, the guard at his side prepared with a weapon.

It’s a man. “Holy shit,” Tony breathes out, swimming closer to the limp body stretched across the sand and rock.

“Be careful, your Highness,” his guard warns, and Tony waves his hand in dismissal.

The man landed facing away from him, giving Tony a good view of strong, muscular shoulders and wavy, shoulder-length hair, half tied back behind his ears in a small knot. His back rises and falls, expanding with slow breaths that reassure the man’s gentle sleep. He leans over and pulls on his shoulder, carefully turning him onto his back.

He’s absolutely gorgeous. Lips slightly parted and turned down in sleep, his face is utterly serene. His lashes are dark and cast a delicate shadow over sharp cheekbones, sprinkled with a tasteful amount of scruff, not quite enough to hide his full jawline and smooth, tanned skin. Tony can’t help himself— he reaches down and cups the man’s jaw, brushing his thumb over full lips and wishing he could look into this man’s eyes.

With a gasp, the man jerks awake, and Tony gets his wish. Deep, electric gray eyes bore into his own, the handsome face overtaken with shock and confusion as he bolts upright, pushing Tony away and looking around frantically.

“Hey, hey— it’s alright. You’re okay, please don’t panic,” Tony tries to calm him down, sighing in relief when the man turns his focus back on Tony, still looking desperate and confused, “My name’s Tony, you’re outside Howard’s Northern Kingdom— can you… can you tell me your name? Where you came from?”

The man shakes his head. He’s shaking slightly, and Tony watches as he runs his hands over his chest, his hips, and his silver and crimson tail— as if grounding himself in the present. Tony understands and gives the guy some space.

He hates the devastated look in the man’s stunning eyes, but is grateful when he croaks out, “The… the Northern Kingdom? Under water?”

Tony snickers, motioning around, “For now, yeah— that’s where sea life generally lives.”

The man nods, a little too quickly, “Right, I… of course, right. My name…” he grimaces, as though it’s painful to remember, “I’m James, but… but people call me Bucky.”

“Bucky,” Tony repeats, liking the sound of this stranger’s voice, somehow familiar, “I’m Tony, and King Howard is my father. Unfortunately, before I can help you out, I’m gonna need to know why you’re here, or where you’re from,” he gestures to the guard behind him, “otherwise this guy’s not gonna let you come home with me.”

Bucky’s smile is a revelation as it breaks over his face. Tony feels something twist in his chest as he ducks his head, looking up at Bucky through his lashes and watching the other man’s cheeks flush pink in delight. Oh, Tony likes this a lot.

“Well, I’m… I’m from…” the smile falls from Bucky’s face as he concentrates, a painful grimace maring his features again, “The Kingdom of Brooklyn, and my brother is the King. His name is Steve. And I… I don’t know why I’m here,” his brow furrows and a small whimper leaves his throat as he concentrates harder, and Tony has to stop it.

“Hey, Bucky? Please don’t— don't’ hurt yourself, okay?” He grins in approval as Bucky relaxes, “We can work on it, sweetheart, for now, what you’ve given me should be sufficient. I’ve never heard of Brooklyn, but if you’re a Prince and not one of our enemies, our King shouldn’t have a problem with offering you temporary residence.”

“I… okay,” Bucky agrees, looking down at his hands, “I don’t want to impose.”

Tony holds out a hand and pulls Bucky along with him.  They swim back through the gate and into the city— most families are already tucked into their homes for the night, so no one sees them on their way back to the castle. Bucky looks absolutely stunned, barely talking during their journey, and it amuses Tony to no end. Obviously whatever Kingdom he’s from is small and underdeveloped in technology and population.

They travel shoulder to shoulder, and Tony can’t help but feel a familiar warmth when their arms brush against each other, the ring around his neck pulsing brighter. It seems like Bucky notices it too, but the expression on his face is difficult to read.

“So this is a weird question,” Tony starts, fiddling with the ring as he studies Bucky’s face. The other man smiles encouragingly, so Tony continues, “have we… met before? Like, specifically earlier today?”

Bucky stops suddenly, looking at Tony as if he’s actively growing another tail. For a moment his face looks surprised, filled with recognition, but it quickly disappears as Bucky hunches over and lets out a pained gasp, clutching desperately at his head. Tony has no idea what to do— and in panic, he pulls Bucky closer, wrapping the larger man in his arms.

“Shh, I’m so sorry,” Tony whispers, trying to soothe away the pain. Bucky is trembling like a leaf in his arms, and he’s helpless to do anything about it. He’s also aware that they’re drifting in between several dwellings, and Tony needs to get them inside, soon.

Soft, red-rimmed eyes blink up at him, and Tony brings up his hand to push a few wayward strands of hair out of Bucky’s face. Even upset and in pain, this man is flawless. He sniffles and blinks a few times, struggling to turn a reassuring smile up at Tony.

“T-thank you,” he murmurs, face flushing pink again in embarrassment, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Everything is… familiar. But I can’t remember you, I’m sorry.”

Tony clicks his tongue, following the blush with his fingers and enjoying the close press of their bodies, “It’s okay, Bucky— we’ll figure it out.”

---

They make it back to the castle in one piece, and Tony knows it’s going to be best to present his guest to the King immediately. He knows his presence isn’t welcome due to the argument earlier in the evening, but the consequences will be worse if Tony tries to hide what he’s found.

The two of them wait outside of the King’s rooms as a steward leaves to announce them to his father. Tony tries to fill Bucky in on procedures, but it seems his guest is already familiar with a number of expectations and etiquette.

“Oh, and remember to tuck your tail as well. And if he tells you to be informal, he really means you can call him ‘Your Grace,’ not to call him Howard. He’ll hate that.” Tony rambles, listing off everything he can think of.

“Wait,” Bucky stops him, “tuck my… tail? Why?”

Tony chuckles, backing up slightly to face Bucky. He looks around to make sure no others are watching— it would be improper for the Prince to bow, even in jest— and when he’s satisfied that the coast is clear, tucks himself into a formal bow.

“Oh,” Bucky breathes, and Tony unfolds himself, his smile erased completely by the intensity in Bucky’s eyes. Fuck. “That’s… that was…”

And then smoothly, gracefully, Bucky mirrors his bow, curling his tail forward, dipping his head, and crossing one arm over his chest respectfully. Tony is speechless. The show of respect— even casually— from this breathtaking man, has him breathing deep to keep his desire at bay.

It seems as though Bucky’s having a similar problem. As he unfolds from his bow, Tony can see his pupils blown wide, the scales around his groin flushed pink in arousal. Tony can bet his own scales look the same, and tries to laugh, tries to calm them down as he backs away slightly. It won’t help either of them to see the King looking like this.

Of course that’s the moment the King’s steward chooses to return, giving both of them a disapproving once over before opening the door wide, “His Majesty will see you in his library.”

Okay, not the worst then. If Tony was in deep shit, Howard would just see them in the drawing room. At least Tony likes the library.

He leads Bucky down the hall and into the library, hiding a smile at the awe clearly written on Bucky’s face. He takes a second look, trying to view his father’s library with fresh eyes, but has trouble when his gaze keeps landing on the handsome man swimming next to him.

Howard is reclining near a window, absently eating a few fermented algae— his usual method of winding down from a difficult day. As the King looks their way, a piece of algae still in his fingers, Bucky dips into a formal bow. Triton, he looks good like that. Tony dips his head, informally, and both of them straighten up a moment later.

“What is it, Anthony?” his dad sighs, putting the piece of algae on his tongue to dissolve. Tony suddenly feels parched, but holds his arm out to present Bucky regardless.

“An hour ago, as I was watching the border of our Kingdom, a figure fell from the surface. I went to investigate with a guard, and we found James, here, unconscious and unarmed. James claims to be a prince from a Kingdom called Brooklyn, with a King named Steve, and is seeking asylum until he can resume his travels. His mind is damaged, and I wish to extend my care and hospitality towards him for the duration of his stay.”

The King looks at both of them, his face refusing to give anything away, but Tony knows from experience that he’s much more perceptive than Tony gives him credit for. He crosses his arms and addresses Bucky, “Prince James, then,” he says, testing out the title, “if not hostile, what are your intentions towards my Kingdom and my son?”

Bucky ducks his head and nods, “My intentions are to know your Kingdom and know your son, if he so desires, Your Majesty. I am healing and recovering my memories, and once I’ve reclaimed my original destination, I shall depart immediately.”

Howard nods, satisfied with this answer. He points to the small pail on his side table, “Anthony, would you bring your… friend a refreshment?”

Tony spares Bucky a shrug and swims over to the chilled container, lifting it slightly to scoop out a small bundle of algae into a glass, trapping them quickly with a lid. He grabs a few for himself and makes his way over to where Bucky floats, his eyes wide and curious as Tony hands over the refreshment.

Bucky looks down at the cup in his hands, obviously and adorably lost. Tony glances over at Howard— his dad looking between them in amusement— and touches Bucky’s shoulder, catching his gaze and motioning for him to follow Tony’s example.

Reaching into his glass, Tony fishes out a piece of algae, showing Bucky how it sticks slightly to his finger. Bucky copies him, and grabs a smaller piece in between his forefinger and thumb. Tony wishes he could feed the bit to Bucky himself, place it on his tongue and feel his pretty pink lips suck it from his hand.

Instead, he quickly places it on his own tongue, humming happily as the sweet and sour algae dissolves, sending a warm shiver down into his belly, clearing his head and heating him up from the inside out. Damn, his dad always has the best shit.

He turns his attention back to Bucky, watching intently as he follows suit and places the morsel in his mouth. His eyebrows shoot up, he looks down at the cup in shock— as if the remaining algae could provide some explanation— and then, to Tony’s dismay, Bucky lets out a guttural groan, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as his cheeks hollow out, lips curling tight around his fingers while he sucks them clean.

Tony is having something close to a stroke, and his dad is laughing loudly in front of them, obviously finding Tony’s distress amusing. He’s going to commit regicide, and it’s going to be slow and painful and bloody.

He overcompensates by taking the lid off his glass and throwing the rest of the algae back, breathing deep as the sensation hits him all at once. As he sways a bit in place, he catches Bucky staring at him in amusement.

“Anthony,” his father sighs, shaking his head in annoyance, “do whatever you must. He can stay… in your rooms, primarily. Or in the guest lodging— as long as you have security on him at all times. Get Jarvis to set up residence wherever you’d like, Anthony. Just don’t let me hear it, and don’t let me see it.”

Bucky is frozen with another algae halfway to his mouth, flushed red and eyes wide. Tony is convinced that flustered is his natural state. Before his dad can embarrass them further, Tony takes Bucky’s hand and excuses them, swimming quickly back down the hallway.

He doesn’t stop until they reach his rooms and slam the door. They’re already cackling before they hit the nest, and Tony can’t catch his breath. He rolls over and tucks close into Bucky’s side, enjoying how his chest shakes as they laugh together.

“What the fuck did I just eat, Tony,” Bucky wheezes, and Tony loses it again, ducking his face into Bucky’s neck and sobbing into his skin.

“Fer… fermented algae, baby.”

“I— I can’t believe… it tasted like…” and Bucky’s voice cuts off, his body stilling. Tony looks up to see what happened, and Bucky is staring straight forward, unmoving. Frozen.

“Bucky? What did… what did it taste like?”

“It. I can’t…” And again, Bucky’s face contorts, breath stuttering as his hands come up to cradle his face, sighing in pain. Tony immediately pulls his hands away and replaces them with his own, massaging his temples until he’s met with deep, gray pools of sweet relief.

“Don’t push it, honey,” Tony purrs, resting his body gently on top of Bucky’s, rubbing their noses together and blowing a few bubbles, making Bucky giggle and relax. He lays his head down on Bucky’s chest, before realizing how close they are together— and how little they’ve actually gotten to know each other.

“Dammit,” he curses, pushing off of Bucky’s chest and floating away, “we don’t— shit. I don’t even know you. You have no idea who you even are. I am so sorry, I just fed you an unknown substance, oh seas,”

“Tony, it’s okay—”

“I’ll get you your own room, I promise. You don’t have to put up with—”

“Tony! Hey,” Bucky swims off the nest and presses him up against the ceiling, pinning his shoulders and staring into his eyes, “I remember who I am, I just can’t recall where my home is. I know the name of my brother, and my best friends. I have a…” small grimace, “pet named Alpine. I’m a scientist and a Prince, and I’m almost completely convinced that I’m—”

He pauses, a familiar blush traveling down his chest and filling his cheeks. Tony blinks down at him, “That you’re what?”

“That I’m already, irreversibly infatuated with you.”

Tony feels the ring around his neck pulse, bright and hot on his skin, as if agreeing with the sentiment. He wants to respond, really does, but everything is too new, too important. Bucky is too important.

They’re close, though. Tails brushing together, bubbles of air mixing and joining in front of their faces. Tony can hear his own heartbeat, frantic and longing for the man in front of him. Bucky reaches up, acting as if he wants to touch the ring, but he hesitates. His fingers flex, his eyes blink rapidly, and then he’s reaching into Tony’s hair, pulling on strands tenderly and cradling his face in strong, sure hands.

And Tony just melts in his palms, an absolute jellyfish for this mysterious stranger. The tension between them is heavy, thick and magnetic. He drifts into Bucky’s space and tries to watch for a sign, any sign, but his eyes are closed— when did his eyes close? And then their scales rub together, catching and pulling, tearing a desperate moan from Tony’s lips. There’s a hand in his hair and eyelashes on his cheek, and their lips— their breath—

“I can’t,” Tony whispers, forcing his eyes open to watch Bucky frown in confusion. “I’m sorry, I’m crazy about you, but you deserve…” and he can’t remember, right now, everything that Bucky deserves, but he knows it’s a lot.

“Oh, I… Okay. I get it,” Bucky nods, devastating resignation taking over his handsome features, “I’m not… I can’t…”

“Can we just sleep? Talk and spend the day together in the morning?” Tony suggests, like an adult. Bucky nods, suddenly yawning and glancing up at Tony sheepishly.

“Sounds perfect, Anthony,” he smirks, chuckling again as Tony swats at him playfully.

It only takes a few minutes to set up a guest room for Bucky, fit already with a flawlessly woven nesting kit and other amenities. Tony even makes sure to include a pail of chilled algae, ugly laughing when Bucky discovers it by the dressing mirror.

The next day comes soon enough, and Tony has enough sense to cancel his engagements, asking his steward to clear his schedule and plan a tour of the kingdom for the two of them.

Before Bucky wakes— Tony assumes he’s still asleep in the guest suite— he has the royal gardeners collect fragments of coral and deep sea sponges to present to his new… friend. He asks for crimson and gold, colors not only of Tony’s scales, but also of Bucky’s as well.

When the arrangements arrive, he spends a few minutes weaving them together with a few ties from his nest and small strands of his hair, intimate details that he’s sure Bucky will love.

He waits in his living space for Bucky to join him. The windows are thrown open, letting a gentle morning current sweep through, and Tony sits with the coral and sponges draped over his arms. And he waits.

After a few minutes, he’s done waiting. He calls his steward to check on Bucky, and watches as the boy disappears down the hallway. There’s a knock, the faint sound of the door being opened, and then low, urgent voices. The steward swims back to him, looking guilty.

“He sends his apologies. He says that he’s not used to rising without direct light, and missed the wake up call completely. He should be around in a few moments, sir.”

“Oh, yes— that’s fine,” Tony places the arrangement in front of him and dismisses the steward, choosing to pick on the assorted breakfast foods instead.

It’s only a few moments before Bucky joins him, looking absolutely delicious and well rested. He sits next to Tony— very close, actually— and takes a suspicious look at the meal prepared for them.

“It’s… fish? For breakfast?”

Tony’s surprised again by his confusion, “Yes, honey, we generally eat fish for breakfast. If you’d like, I can have the cook crack you open a few clams instead? Oh, he makes the best sweet clam mix— it’s to die for,”

“No, no that’s fine,” Bucky waves his hands, reaching for an assortment of fresh eel instead, “these should be… these should be good.”

Tony watches in glee as Bucky slurps down the eel, grimacing and gagging slightly when it hits his tongue. He hides a smile when Bucky sits up straighter, obviously testing the flavor on his palette, before turning to Tony and putting his hands on his hips.

“Okay, but… why was that so good?”

Tony splutters, “You ass! You had me fooled— thinking you didn’t like fish for breakfast, like a fucking lunatic.”

Bucky chuckles, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. For a moment, he looks so lost and confused that all Tony can do is urge him to eat more fish, shoving three or four more plates in his face.

After they finish eating, Tony picks up his arrangement, feeling like a guppy as he hands it to Bucky, waiting for his reaction. Bucky— seas bless him— gives him a lopsided smile, holding the coral and sponges like they’re about to bite him. It’s confusing.

“Thank you, Tony. I’m not… I’m not supposed to eat it, right?”

“What?” Tony chokes, throwing his head back in laughter, “no, honey. It’s a gift. To admire. From my gardens.”

Bucky’s eyebrows draw close as he concentrates, something from his memory probably slipping away again, so Tony takes the arrangement from him. He sets it on the table, perfect decoration for the room, and grabs Bucky’s hand, leading him out of their rooms.

“Let’s go,” Tony urges, giving Bucky a reassuring wink as they head into the city.

Their day is incredible. Tony had no doubts before that the two of them would get along, would laugh and talk and joke as naturally as breathing. He’s proud of his Kingdom, too. Welcoming Bucky and treating him like a Prince— draping chains of flowering wildlife around his neck and offering them both assortments of salted meats— shark and squid and flounder— and dozens of fine jewels and beads.

If Tony purchases a number of those jewels for Bucky, it’s no one’s business but his.

He’s enraptured by the way Bucky experiences things. He’s always gasping and blushing as if each moment is special, new and unique, instead of normal and mundane. Tony feels drunk on it. He wants to spoil Bucky rotten, hoard all of his reactions to himself and make sure Bucky is always smiling like this— happy and soft and warm.

So Tony might be a little infatuated as well. He’s not supposed to fall in love this quickly, especially not with a stranger, but he feels inexplicably drawn to Bucky, as if by fate.

The days after pass similarly. Even when Tony has to resume his responsibilities, they still spend most of the day together— Bucky helping him delegate and problem solve issues in the Kingdom.

There are some bad days for Bucky— when he tries to remember too much and ends up with headaches that won’t go away. It’s especially bad when Tony leaves with Pepper and Rhodey to explore near the surface. Bucky refuses to go with them and spends those days in his room, clutching his head and sleeping restlessly. Tony thinks he may have repressed trauma that’s related to the surface, to the day Tony found him, but without access to his memories, it’s hard to know for sure.

Even with a few bad days in the mix, most of the time they spend together is indescribable, and, after only two weeks, Tony already has the crown jeweler fashioning traditional courting gifts for Bucky.

He whistles on the way to pick them up, swimming faster than usual, and even doing a few twirls when the excitement is just too much. As he inspects each piece, he knows the smile on his face is ridiculously wide. They’re perfect. He can’t help but imagine Bucky wearing each item, draped and adorned with metal and jewels and his family crest.

Bucky’s lounging in the garden when Tony finally finds him, admiring the array of coral on the south side of the palace. His hair is tied back— half up half down, framing his face beautifully— and he looks up when Tony swims into view.

“Hey, honey,” Tony greets, silently hating himself for being so soft around this man, “do you have a minute?”

“For you, I have all the time in the world.”

Tony ducks his head, the warm twist in his chest pulling him towards Bucky, and he watches the other man swim over from under his eyelashes. Once Bucky is in front of him, Tony hands him the box, looking at his face patiently for a reaction.

He turns it over, and looks at Tony, confused. “What’s this?”

“Oh, sorry,” Tony touches the lid, trailing his fingers over the crest engraved there, “it’s um… they’re traditional jewels I had crafted… for you.”

Bucky still looks unsure, “Okay,” he says, toying with the clasp on the box, “is there a special occasion, Tony?”

Tony just shakes his head, giving Bucky a reassuring smile, “Just open it— you’ll see.”

He gets a small smile in return, and Bucky lifts the lid, revealing the intricate set of jewels— chains and cuffs and clamps, all symbolizing Tony’s intent to court Bucky.

Unfortunately, Bucky looks absolutely horrified. He extends his arms, pushing the box away, and looks up into Tony’s eyes, “I… what the fuck, Tony?”

“... what?”

Bucky puts the gifts back into Tony’s hands and crosses his arms, “I’m sorry if you misunderstood our relationship, but I’m not… interested in this. I don’t want this. At least not yet.”

“Oh,” Tony is shocked still, gripping the box tightly in his arms, “I just… I thought we were…”

But Bucky is shaking his head, “I like you, Tony. I’m probably even falling in love with you. But I’m just not into that. I have a few friends who are, but we’d have to be… I don’t know, married or something, before I’d want to talk about that.”

Tony looks down into the box, suddenly confused, “Bucky, what do you think I’m trying to do?”

“Those are… aren’t those—” Bucky flushes, all the way down his chest and bites into his lip, “— like… for sex?”

What?

“No?” he is so confused, and a little offended. Why would anyone use these things for sex? Sure, they can be sexy, but—

“Tony, in what other context would I wear these?” Bucky pulls out a strand of jewels connected together with a chain, two fasteners at the ends to hold them in place.

“You’d wear them when we go out.”

“Tony! These are nipple clamps!” Bucky shakes them a little bit, trying to emphasize his point. Tony, for his part, doesn’t see the issue.

“Yes? But they’re traditional, not sexy.”

And then it looks like something dawns on Bucky— his face lights up and he chuckles, dropping the jewels back in the box and reaching forward to touch Tony’s face, tenderly scratching behind his ears.

“Tony— I need you to tell me, as if I’m a child and have no idea what’s going on, exactly what these gifts mean.”

And then Tony gets it. Wherever Bucky’s from, he’s never seen courting gifts like these. Damn, he’s such an idiot.

“They’re family jewels, forged with precious stone and metal, to create the traditional set of courting gifts presented by a royal family member to their potential spouse. Or consort, I guess. But yeah, it’s… I’m basically asking if I can court you, officially. And if you accept them and wear them in public, it’s a symbol of our relationship and eventual engagement.”

“Fuck,” Bucky curses, still playing with Tony’s hair, “yeah, yes— I’ll wear them for you. I’d love nothing more than to be yours, Tony. I just… do I need to give you something in return? For you to wear?”

“Actually, half of those pieces are for me,” Tony replies, pressing his cheek into Bucky’s hand. “If you’d like, we can try them on?”

“Sure, darling, let’s go try them.”

---

Tony can definitely see now why Bucky would think these jewels were made for sex. They lay each item out on Tony’s dressing table, organizing them neatly, and Tony has Bucky float in front of him, keeping his arms outstretched in front of the mirror so he can adorn Bucky with each jewel.

“So, first is the necklace— set with gold and twenty-five rubies,” he explains, draping the necklace around Bucky’s neck and clasping it underneath his hairline. He can’t resist, and places a delicate kiss on top of the clasp.

“Next is the belt,” he says, bringing his arms around Bucky’s waist to set the belt just above his scale-line, “usually these are more feminine in design, but I’ve had a larger crest engraved to rest over… well— let’s just say it implies masculinity.”

Tony busies himself with fastening the belt around Bucky’s waist and ignores the laugh he gets. He straightens up and hooks his chin over Bucky’s shoulder—

“Shit, you look beautiful.”

Bucky gives him a shy smile and turns his head to look into Tony’s eyes. He could get lost in those eyes, drowning daily in pools of ocean blue and gray.

Tony clears his throat and pulls back, “Okay, next we have, uh—” Triton, “the chest piece.”

He doesn’t even bother explaining this one, focusing on attaching it and quickly moving on before he can embarrass himself. Tony brings the chain around, holding it in place in front of Bucky’s chest. Unfortunately, his nipples are soft and there’s no visible place for a hold. Tony huffs and uses his left hand to reach out, lining up steadily, before quickly pinching Bucky’s nipple.

“Shit!” Bucky curses, looking down in surprise, but Tony is fast— attaching the first clip before Bucky can react. He keeps up a string of curses, gingerly touching the left clamp, and Tony uses his distraction to attach the second clip to Bucky’s now straining and hard right nipple. He backs up a bit to give Bucky space, waiting for the other man to calm down until he stops cursing and curiously touches the chest piece.

Bucky looks divine. Each chain floats lightly, reflecting light and casting shadow onto his pink skin, darker than usual due to residual embarrassment. Regardless, seeing Bucky in his jewels and colors is doing something to him.

“Only a few more,” he murmurs, picking up the wrist cuffs and motioning for Bucky to extend his arms. Bucky still looks overwhelmed— a mix of anger and confusion and arousal, probably— but Tony slips the cuffs on, fastening them snugly, and hooks a few rings around Bucky’s fingers, attached with delicate chains.

“Tony—” Bucky breathes, twisting his wrists to admire the jewelry. Tony’s determined to finish this, so he ignores his impulse— to touch and touch and touch and touch.

The last items are a set of jewels for his ears and a head piece. “Can you move your hair, Bucky?”

When Bucky obliges, Tony goes to thread the jewels, only to notice that Bucky’s ears are perfectly smooth. He feels around just to be positive, and Bucky giggles a bit at the sensation.

“So, we have a bit of a problem,” Tony backs up, showing Bucky the ear jewelry.

“Oh.”

“— if you don’t want to wear them, I won’t ask—”

“No, I…” Bucky feels around his own ears, pinching and tugging the lobes, “is there a way to fashion them with clips, like…” he motions to his chest, refusing to meet Tony’s eyes.

“Yes! Here, it shouldn’t be a difficult change, either,” Tony swims to his main doors, handing the jewels to his steward with a quick word of instruction for the craftsman. He swims back to see Bucky admiring the headpiece.

Tony takes it from his hands, giving him a reassuring smile, and Bucky dips his head forward. With perfect access, Tony lays the headpiece over Bucky’s dark waves, securing it behind his ears with two pins, and adjusting the chains and jewels to lay perfectly across his forehead.

It’s too much. Tony lets out a shuddering breath, finally finished with the gifts, and leans his head against Bucky’s, closing his eyes and holding on to Bucky’s shoulders.

“You look gorgeous, Bucky. I can’t believe you’re wearing my colors… that you’d agree to this.”

He feels a light touch on the back of his neck, and holds on tighter. Bucky pulls away— causing Tony to open his eyes, following his movement— and he draws Tony closer, dotting a kiss to his temple. They stay like that for a few more moments, enjoy the closeness and warmth, before Bucky chuckles and drifts away fully, turning back to the box.

“Alright— now how do I put these on you?”

Bucky holds up two cuffs, identical to the ones he put on earlier, and tilts his head. Tony grins and extends his arms, guiding Bucky gently in how to slip on the cuffs, tighten them, and attach the rings. When they’re fastened, Tony is captivated by the sight of both pairs of jewels shimmering in the light, practically shouting their attachment to each other.

The final pieces for Tony to wear are a necklace— similar to Bucky’s, but with a space for the signet ring around his neck— and a matching sash and belt. Bucky helps him put them on, and soon they’re floating and facing the mirror, mouths agape.

“Absolutely perfect,” Bucky murmurs, eyes never leaving Tony’s in their reflection.

Tony inhales slightly, “I know, the jewels are stunning.”

“No, darling,” Bucky turns him and looks down into his eyes, “it’s us. We’re a perfect match.”

He can’t help but smile, his stomach twisting with affection as he loops his arms around Bucky’s neck, pulling them close enough that their bodies are touching, tail to shoulder. Bucky gasps, the motion pulling on the chain across his chest, and suddenly all Tony can think about is getting his mouth on this man, wringing every drop of pleasure from him, watching him come apart with Tony’s name on his lips like a prayer—

“Your Highness, my apologies, but the King would see you in his drawing room.”

Tony laughs— unbelievable, “Tell the King I’ll see him within the hour,” he answers, never taking his gaze off Bucky, his dark, deep eyes, shining like the sea—

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but the King insists on your immediate attention.”

“Shit,” Tony curses, letting Bucky go and turning to follow the steward from the room. He looks back, giving one last promise, “I’ll be back in a moment, I swear,” before disappearing out the door, heading down the hall to meet his father.

[hobidreams]

Moonlit Throne historical clarifications/references

i want to accurately represent the history from the joseon era, but sometimes for the sake of story/ease of accessibility, things had to be minorly changed. the following is a list of creative choices/changes i make in the writing of Moonlit Throne, as well as further information about the history/culture that i’ve found through my own research 💓 i hope this can also provide some more context for those interested. this list is to be updated as the series progresses so i always recommend you read the latest drabble before checking for more info here for risk of spoilers. please correct me if i get any info wrong!!

for even more information about the world, check out the tag #moonlit history!

last updated: after drabble 43!

new information for the latest drabble will be under the moon.

king gwanghae - as mentioned in the line “gwanghae flow” & in the rest of the MV, Daechwita was inspired by this historical king & the movie about him. Moonlit Throne is not inspired by any king. any event that is similar is purely coincidental!

topknot - various sources state that only married men were allowed to wear their hair up, though this is often not the case in popular korean media. even though Yoongi is unmarried, i chose to pay homage to the daechwita MV & give him a topknot throughout the series. *** same goes for the blonde hair color!

months - traditionally, they followed the lunar calendar in the Joseon era. but i thought that that would be a bit difficult to explain for modern audiences so i am choosing to use the months/modern equivalents of dates.

yoongi’s scar - i am aware that Scarlet Heart Ryeo depicts the facial scar as a reason that someone could not become king. i haven’t found much on this in the way of historical sources, so it’s not a factor in my series!

uinyeo - aka. reader’s mom, and eventually reader herself. at the time, it was believed that women could not be treated by male doctors due to the shame of showing a man their body, even in a medical context. this position was generally occupied by a woman that was ranked below middle-class & commoner (think merchants/fishermen/etc.) as it was not a very desireable role. reader’s mom, Eun-a, is the head uinyeo, which is why she is called “su-uinyeo-nim” by others.

***i haven’t found any information that says men couldn’t be treated by women due to the Confucius beliefs, so at least in this story, reader helps out the male physicians from time to time.

eunuch - eunuchs were impotent or castrated men (had all or part of their genitals removed) who worked within the palace walls, serving and attending the royal family. they had their own hierarchy, like head eunuch, etc. it was possible for eunuchs to marry & have families of their own.

***Eunuch Kim has a 🍆! it’s just his testicles that were removed.

yoongi’s name - technically kings use temple names that end in jo or jong instead of their given names, but i’m keeping it as Yoongi!!

age - it’s revealed in the march 1858 drabble that Yoongi is officially turning 10 years old that year, but this is in Korean age. his birth year is 1849, which would make him 9 years old in age as we know it internationally. Korean tradition dictates that people age up at the start of the new year (Jan 1), not on their actual birthday. traditionally, they also add an extra year as they consider the baby 1 year old at birth, not 0 years old. to do the math, reader is two years older than him, which would make her born in 1847 & turning 12 that year!

*** the average life expectancy around that time was ~35-40, so their understanding of a teenager would be very different than ours, at least in terms of maturity. thus, even though the main characters are relatively young by today’s standards, i’ve written them to come off as older. UPDATED INFO: it seems court ladies could live up to rather elderly ages, even up to 70, so i’m not sure if the earlier statistic was just mainly for men.

birthdays - i couldn’t find any information about whether they celebrated the actual day of birth as well back then, only about 100 day milestones, etc. but it is part of Korean culture to celebrate the birthday in modern times, so i kept it in.

jeonha - similar to mama, this is how you refer to the king as an equivalent to “Your Majesty”. wangseja-jeonha is the full title for the crown prince. usually people just call him seja-jeonha.

women’s rights - how much freedom you have kind of depends on what rank you are. most of the upper court/noble ladies (yangban) are born & raised within the palace. they were very, very rarely allowed to leave (& if they were married off, then they would have to leave with like guards/people with them). it’s unfortunate but they were treated like property, passed off from father -> husband. from what i can gather, the lower ranked women (like the uinyeo) had a bit more liberty about going into town (or at least ive seen in media), mostly bc no one cared about them.... sad truth but truth nonetheless.

king’s authority - even though the king is the ruler of the entire land, he doesn’t have absolute authority over everything. generally kings in the joseon era had to listen to the advice of the court officials if they thought he was making the wrong choice.

Minister Choi’s execution - so actually there were several types of executions for people of different ranks. someone of Minister Choi’s status likely would have been given a less gruesome death via. poison (sasa or 사사). but i’m keeping it as a beheading to pay homage to the daechwita MV!

***i also came across an article that said only royal blood could be spilled on the palace grounds so i’m not 100% sure where the public execution square was located, only that there was one & it was separate from the palace. also a lot of dramas seem to ignore this rule, so i’m not sure.

perfume - this existed back then! along with cosmetics. they were a luxury item for mostly the upper class, but they definitely existed.

Queen Jeonghui’s birthday - fun fact! i borrowed this real life queen’s name first, for drabble 3. then i found out, it just so happens that her real birthday falls in November as well. it was a total coincidence haha. 

OC’s outfit/hairstyle - this is what she would have worn!

palace - the layout of the series setting is loosely based off Gyeongbokgung Palace! if you look at the map, i’ve set the private gardens at #24 (though the position of the island is different than how it looks in the map. it’s instead from the right side going towards the left), Yoongi’s private residence is #25. reader is moved into #23. #26-28 are libraries, which includes the crown prince’s private library.

*** also the palace is much bigger than you might imagine so to get anywhere takes some time & a bit of walking!

jipgyeongdang (집경당) - #22 on the map. along with #23 (below), were traditionally houses for concubines & palace maids before Yoongi moved them.

hamhwadang (함화당) - #23 on the map. where reader lives post December 1868.

sanggung - the highest rank available for women who served the palace/royal family. a woman could become a “favored sanggung” if she slept with the king, but not a proper concubine. normally from the “commoner” class.

sangmin - “commoner” class. made up about 80% of joseon’s people. were the farmers, fishermen, laborers, etc. these were the people that paid taxes and were ruled over by the nobles!

cheonmin - the rank below commoner, described in English as “vulgar commoner.” the upper classes considered these people “unclean.” among their numbers were butchers, sex workers, performers, shoemakers, and yes, uinyeo. they were normally given little to no respect at all within society.

concubine - women that had the honor of sleeping with the king. concubines had their own ranks within them as the king usually had many (think around a dozen). more info.

town - from what i can gather, directly outside of the palace is a small town. if you think of the Daechwita MV, it’s like the town that Yoongi walks through when he has black hair. this is where mostly people of the middle/lower class, like sangmin & those below that, live.

chuseok - Korean harvest festival! it means “autumn evening with the brightest moon”. it’s usually celebrated on the 15th day of the eighth month in the lunar calendar. that would put it anywhere around sept 9-oct 2 in our modern calendar depending on the year!

yangban - these are the “ruling class” or gentry of the joseon era. generally means their families own land, are somewhat (or very) wealthy, and they are well-educated. (think Mr. Darcy, for a British equivalent)

why does no one recognize the prince in town? - with a lack of access to pictures & internet, it was common for the normal citizens of the country to not know what their monarchs looked like. generally to identify people & rank, they had to rely on appearance. gold was a color only reserved for royalty, so only the king & his sons could wear the royal robes with gold embroidery. once Yoongi takes off those robes, it’d be hard to identify him from among regular yangban!

jeon - these are bits of shrimp/vegetables/fish/other small things that are deep fried in egg batter!

nokdujeon - this is like a small, savory pancake made with, you guessed it, mung beans!

Chun-ja calling Eunuch Kim “Kim-nim” - look. i’ll be straight with you i have no idea how a commoner would refer to a eunuch. i’m flip-flopping between his title (which i also cannot figure out bc idk which of the 18 political ranks he would be, but not for lack of trying y’all T_T) & his name with the respectful -nim. so just to be safe, i’m going with it.

***i also am not 100% on this, but i believe Eunuchs rank higher than commoners because they work in the palace? which is why Eunuch Kim uses “-ssi” for her.

hangul & hanja - so the Korean alphabet as we know it is called hangul, and it was invented in 1443. in the past, they used to use hanja, Chinese characters, to write documents.

female literacy rate - as related to above, it was rare for women to be able to read/write even up until the late 19th century. they weren’t allowed to learn hanja at all & only around 4% could learn hangul. of those 4%, it was mostly noble women, who received good education to be better wives.

***books were then thus read aloud by those literate to crowds, so people could still enjoy stories.

face - the concept of “face” is very much rooted in Asian culture. in Korea, it’s called chemyon, & is basically related to your reputation + how others see you. you can lose, build, or gain face through your actions or what rumors of you spread. for example, if parents have children with bad grades, they + the child lose face. people should strive to do things to build their family’s honor & face up. i’ve experienced firsthand how people go to sometimes extreme lengths to “save face” as the term goes. basically, if you’re going to do something shameful, it’s better to do it where no one can see. (this concept isn’t going to have a huge influence in the series, at least not so far & i use it rather lightheartedly in October 1865 but i just thought that it’s really interesting + important to know about Asian culture!)

French expedition to Korea (Byeong-in yangyo) - in October 1866, the second French empire tried to invade Korea (or Joseon as it was called at the time) because the king at the time executed seven French missionaries. after several months of fighting, Korea won with only four soldiers killed & 3 wounded (compared to France: 3 killed, 35 wounded). Joseon was able to stay relatively isolated from all the other countries, continuing the practice of isolationism.

gossip - i couldn’t find any laws prohibiting people from talking about court going-ons/battles, though i would assume that it’s punishable if you’re doing it to talk badly about the king. but even if there were laws in place, word gets around, as word tends to do. therefore, i’ve given Eunuch Kim a bit more freedom in his letters.

royal funerals - it could actually take up to 5 months for the coffin to begin its journey to the resting tomb, but i’ve expedited the timeline for plot purposes!

coronations - these actually weren’t super common in Korea or Asia in general, but it did happen once in the 1700s for King Yeongjo. i’m using that as inspiration for Yoongi’s crowning.

*** also i couldn’t find info on the exact wording that King Yeongjo used when he announced his succession to his deceased brother’s body so... i took some creative license there.

gama - how yangban & up women travelled, carried by their servants. here’s a visual!

the royal engagement - actually, Beom-su would not have lived within the palace walls. she would have lived in a detached palace that was further away from the main palace, and there would be a whole procession where the king goes to her during their wedding rites. however, i’ve seen several dramas have the bride-to-be hang around a lot, which seems to be true because she would have had to learn the customs of the palace, so i’m not sure how much she would have been around realistically. i’ve just chosen not to address it, like the dramas do.

Beom-su’s name - i chose this name for her because of one of the possible hanja for beom: “犯”, which i would pair with the hanja “秀” for su. her name would basically mean excellent invasion, which i thought was a bit cruel, slightly humorous, & overall fitting. it is normally a masculine name though! 

why are Beom-su’s father’s actions such a scandal? - so all the unmarried women living/working in the palace were considered the king’s property. he could sleep with them if he wanted to, but essentially they belonged to him. by laying hands on the maid, the minister committed a double sin because he not only was he assaulting someone, but he was infringing upon the king’s territory. 

civil service exam (gwageo) - this is an exam issued every 3 years that any man, commoner rank & above, could take in order to enter into civil service. it’s what Jimin takes to enter into the court! i’m not sure what month these were held or if it was just at the king’s discretion (could not find much info)

more on eunuch kim & the re-marriage process

royal tombs - these were often quite far away from the actual palace but looking on maps, i found that there were a few tombs rather close to the palace that people could have conceivably travelled to within a day, over several long hours on horseback!

on natural disasters - yes, in history, natural disasters like floods/earthquakes/eclipses were said to be the king’s fault because he wasn’t a good enough ruler! things like this could seriously derail the people’s trust in the king and was a big cause of concern.

on Queen Jeonghui being in court meetings - i couldn’t find actual evidence that said the queen couldn’t be at these daily meetings between officials. in fact, the real life Empress Myeongseong in the ~1870s was pretty involved in politics and was quite interested in matters of law, etc. so, i’ve decided to allow Jeonghui to be present and address the ministers alongside Yoongi!

Chunaengjeon - i kind of explain more about this already in the drabble itself but if you’re curious, it’s the only solo court dance in the Joseon era and the highlight of the dance is a moment where the dancer mimics a bird perched on a flower and smiles :’) i thought it was fitting for these two. here’s a video of a performance that i used as reference!

janae - there were quite a few different terms for couples to call each other during this time. “janae” was meant to represent wife and is kind of their equivalent to our... “honey”? it was mostly used among the commoners/lower classes to convey affection and closeness. (aka eunuch kim continues to be the cutest)

on adopting a child as a eunuch - the readings i found say that eunuch kim’s children must be eunuchs themselves if he adopts them directly, but they don’t mention anything about this particular case of a eunuch marrying a widow, aka the child is not directly adopted by Eunuch Kim himself. so Han-jae will not be a eunuch when he grows up!

american invasion of korea (shinmiyangyo) - this is a true historical event, as i’ve mentioned in my author’s note for “June 1871.” Americans repeatedly violated Korean soveriegnty and invaded their land, resulting in many, many deaths for the Korean side. they were hoping this destruction would force Korea to accept the trade treaty. Korea did not, and eventually were able to chase the Americans out of their land a month later. the wikipedia page goes into greater detail if you’re interested, and is a quick overview of the situation.

seong-min’s living situation - as i’ve mentioned earlier with the whole Beom-su situation, i’ve chosen to not use the detached palace again for this engagement as dramas tend to do.

the wedding ceremony - similar to my reasoning about the detached palace, i’ve chosen to focus on only a few parts of the marriage rites while only briefly mentioning the rest. why? well, while i would LOVE to explain all the details and intricacies of such an incredible process, i feel like that would take a lot away from the heart of the story and be distracting, especially at such a critical stage. so i’ve explained what i can, and given brief overviews where i am able. ofc i adjusted the parading ceremony because of the change of the detached palace custom. if you’d like an easy-to-read source on the whole process, please check out this link! basically the MLT chapter depicts a tweaked vers of steps 5 and 6. 1-3 happened behind the scenes, and i mentioned #4 in the “summer 1871″ drabble.

chungin - our equivalent of “white collar” workers, or the upper-middle class. this rank was made up of low-level bureaucrats, accountants, physicians, etc. some royal servants would also be part of this rank because they’re allowed to enter the palace. there is an exam (chapkwa) to become this rank!

conception dreams (taemong) - as uinyeo-nim explains in the drabble, these dreams were often seen as omens of impending pregnancy. depending on what you see in your dream, there are different interpretations. possible symbols are animals, fruits, elements of nature, children, and jewels. eg. if you dreamed of fruits, it was often considered to be a sign of having a baby girl.

other conception myths - i know from my own experience that Asians often have a lot of superstitions regarding conception and pregnancy and medical things in general. however, i couldn’t find any specific conception myths for the time period in question (most of my research only uncovered superstitions for after you’re already pregnant), so i’ve taken some creative license here, using the conception dreams and current beliefs as inspiration!

on Queen Jeonghui calling oc “dear” - since I prefer not to use Y/N, ___, etc. for reader’s name and just generally avoid mentioning it, it’s nearly impossible for me to convey the tone with which Queen Jeonghui would’ve been calling OC in this chapter. in Korean, she would be saying “[name]-yah/ah” depending on the ending syllable of the name. adding that suffix to the end of a name conveys closeness and intimacy between people. I’ve chosen to substitute it for “dear” to make things sound more natural in English. it’s not an exact match, but it’ll have to do!

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a sequel.

chapter one: genesis

word count: 5.8k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, religious blasphemy, cults amok, massively canon divergent (if you’re here then like...you know), body horror and horror in general, brainwashing, manipulation, you know the drill. john is himself, and thus: deserving of a warning. in this chapter specifically, brief mention, in passing, of mass suicide.

notes: hi friends! yes, i'm aware that this is a week early. i apologize. i wanted to get this chapter out while i had the thoughts in my head; not a lot of exciting stuff happens, most of it is just... setting things up for where we're going and where we're going to be, but i hope that you enjoy it nonetheless! thank you, of course, to my beta reader @starcrier​; this chapter was in a lot rougher shape before she got to it. if you have the chance, please check out her writing--she is just absolutely incredible! 

and thank you to everyone who did me the GREAT blessing of reviewing and supporting ancient names. i really can't believe i'm out here!! with people interested in what i have to say about this fucking nutso canon-divergent universe i am building! gosh i just hope y’all enjoy it. fun stuffs to come.

summary: —to fall like a wounded animal into a place that was meant for revelations.

there are many injustices that john seed will tolerate. the betrayal, and subsequent departure, of his wife and child is not one of them.

or: elliot honeysett just wants to live her life in quiet seclusion, and there's no way in hell that's happening.

“This is a very old story.”

It was cold, and dark, and the night stayed cloudy and moonless. As Helmi picked up the gun clasped between the two corpses, she glanced furtively in the brunette’s direction. Her gaze was impossible to read, the severe lines of her face accented only by the dim, flickering light of the neon sign; Kajsa had always looked like this, though, sharp like broken glass was, reflecting only and not taking anything in. Protected.

Helmi lifted her gaze back to the dead pair at her feet, up to the neon sign that blinked The Spread Eagle, and then down and stopping at the words written in dried blood on the paneling.

WRATH, DO YOU WANT TO BLOOM IN ME?

“You and me,” Kajsa murmured, and now it was her turn to watch. “Them. Eden’s Gate, and the Mother. All of it has happened before and will happen again.” She sighed, as though it troubled her, the dark arch of her brows pulling together to knit at the center of her forehead. With the only source of the light being the bar’s sign, her skin was an eerie, pallid red-and-blue, darting and worming across her expression. “We’ll turn this world into winter, Hel. The two of us.”

Helmi watched her for a long moment. “Kajsa—”

“Douse them.” She stuck her hands into the pockets of her sweater, turning and stepping over the two other dead bodies they had dragged from where they had been propped up against the wall. “I want this place in ashes by sunrise.”

“Yes.”

Kajsa didn’t wait for her to begin walking to the car, idling still a safe distance away. Helmi preferred it that way. For a few minutes—and that’s all it would take, really, to unlatch the canister lid and toss the gasoline over the bodies, against the paneling of the wall, atop the roof—she could turn her brain off, forget the way Kajsa’s eyes see straight through her, forget the bodies of her brothers and sisters as she tossed the match on them and watched the flame eat through the fuel.

Hungry. A beast. Like me, Helmi thought absently, as the flames licked at the sky, reaching reaching reaching. Watching them felt like watching the souls of her brothers and sisters reaching for the stars, carried away in wisps of foul-smelling smoke. She wondered, do they feel it now? Do they feel the sting, the burn? When their bodies haven’t been given to It, do they feel it all after?

“Come, Helmi,” Kajsa called from the car. “We have a long drive ahead of us.”

They had been at it for hours, this methodical and clinical extinguishing of bodies. Every spot that they had agreed and picked out on the map in such an instance was now blacked out. Burned. Their brothers and sisters had done what was expected of them, and for that, they would not be forced to rot—they would be turned to charcoal, to ash, only blood and bone spent.

Her feet carried her back to the car as the flames began to devour more than just flesh, crawling along the rooftop of the Spread Eagle and popping in the still, quiet night. Kajsa’s hand came up to her face and cradled her cheek, fixing her with those eyes: dark eyes, shades of gray and glassy, like a shark.

“Ingenting under solen är beständigt,” she said, the pad of her thumb brushing across Helmi’s cheekbone. For a second, the older woman almost looked like—well, looked like something, an unknown flicker of emotion crossing her face—but then it cleared.

Hel watched her curiously, waiting until the hand against her cheek dropped before she said, “I know, Kajsa.”

Kajsa nodded. Only once, short and brisk, the gesture as sharp as the lines of her face. “Make sure you do not forget.”

I won’t, Helmi thought, but did not say. Kajsa had never believed words before, and she would not start now. Helmi would just have to show her that she had not forgotten.

She looked back; the singeing of flesh fizzing in the air, the crackle of devouring flame whispering to her. A cleansing fire. Their bodies weren’t given to The Father, but they had given in another way, with their lives—in a way that still mattered.

“Kajsa,” Hel said, bringing the woman’s attention back to her, “do they feel it, still? The fire, when they’re gone?”

“Perhaps,” Kajsa replied, jaw absently working something wadded just in the hollow of her throat; words she wanted to say, and could not. Or would not. It was always hard to tell, with Kajsa. “It’s not for us to know. The after belongs only to the dead.” The dark-haired woman opened the driver’s side of the car, pulling her gloves off of her hands and tossing them inside. “Get in the car, Helmi. I want to keep track of that interloper.”

Interloper. The kinder of the words that what remained of them had been using for John Seed and his merry band of fuck-ups and patience-testers. Heretics, zealots, apostate—

The list was unending. Helmi wished she could run out of disdain, but she knew that she would not be able to. Sorrow and mourning for those they had lost came in absolutes, in fixed amounts, but the bitterness persisted. She swung into the passenger side of the car, shutting it against the smell of burning skin, and exhaled slowly through her nose.

Kajsa pulled the car away from the sight. Hopefully it would be just as the harbinger wished—by sunrise, Hope County would be leveled by fire and flame, nothing but ash and ruined structure left. If the scraps of Eden’s Gate didn’t try and douse it out. If they didn’t continue to interfere.

She glanced out the window to the sky. The tires of the car hit the highway, and Kajsa clicked the cruise control on, and as tendrils of smoke clung to the stars, the clouds parted and the light of the new moon filtered down. Just a sliver of her light, but cold and cruel and reliable all the same.

“It’s pleased,” Kajsa said lightly.

Hel made a low noise of agreement, closing her eyes as she leaned her head against the glass. “Are you?”

“Not yet,” the older woman murmured. When Hel glanced over at her, her eyes were fixed on the road; the headlights switched off, and in the far distance, she could see the tail lights of another vehicle glowing red as blood in the darkness. Seed, Hel thought through the haze of her exhaustion.

“But very soon, I will be.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

One Week Later

“Are you warm enough? Where’s your scarf? Elliot?”

The door was only inches away, and yet—somehow—she’d managed to not make it out without the barrage of questions that typically accompanied any of her departures. Taking in a soft breath, Elliot closed her eyes for a moment, leaving her hand on the door handle.

“I am sufficiently bundled,” she promised, turning to regard her mother, standing in the foyer. “I don’t need a scarf between the front porch and the car.”

“Scarf, please,” her mother murmured, deigning to set her martini glass down in order to pluck it off of the coat rack. Elliot watched the movement curiously—not because she had never seen her mother set aside an alcoholic beverage before, but because these days it seemed more often than not that she was beginning to slow down on them; a thing which Elliot never thought she would see. Part of it might have been the sudden upheaval of having her grown, child-carrying daughter and dog suddenly move in with her, and part of it may have just been, well, time—but either way, she didn’t think she could ask.

There were some things that were just better left unsaid.

“Okay,” Elliot relented tiredly. “I’ll wear the scarf.”

“It’s not just about you anymore, bunny.”

“I know, mama.”

“So wear the scarf—”

“I am,” she insisted irritably, making a great show of flinging the scarf around her neck. I know it’s not just about me, something prickly inside of her said, I fucking know, it’s never been about me, and it’s especially not about me now.

Scarlet eyed her for a moment, wary. This had been happening a lot more now, too—these odd, lingering looks her mother had begun to favor her with. It was the same way Sheriff Whitehorse had looked at her, and the same way Burke had looked at her that last time before she—

Well.

Forcing her tone to lightness, Elliot said, “Happy?”

“Hardly,” her mother replied tartly. “No reason to be spending time around horses in your delicate condition. And you’ve been so irritable as of late—”

“It’s supposed to be good for anxiety.” Elliot glossed over the additional barb blithely, years of muscle-memory kicking in now.

“Getting some sleep would help your anxiety.” Jab, jab, duck, her mother’s tell-tale movements, skittering across their conversation like so many little spiders. It had been so long before this that she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be engaging in a constant verbal battle with someone who was supposed to love her.

That wasn’t necessarily true, either. She had plenty of experience ducking and parrying verbal punches from someone who claimed to love her, as of late.

“I don’t—” Puffing out a sharp breath through her nose, Elliot passed a hand over her face. Sleep had not been her friend, not before and certainly not now. Too many strange, unnerving dreams about handsome, blue-eyed men with flowers blooming out of their eyes for her liking. “I’m not taking medication that’s not prescribed to me, mama. Sorry. But it’s like you said, it’s not just about me anymore. Right?”

Scarlet picked up her martini glass, waving her hand as she turned to head back into the living room where the fire still glowed warm and hungry in the hearth. Yes, there was nothing she would have preferred more than to give in to the despair and apathy welling up inside of her, curl up under the blankets in her bedroom, safe and tucked away in a perfect bubble; but she couldn’t, because stronger than that apathy was an uneasiness, anxiety that vibrated just under her skin.

Not safe, it told her, during the day when she was trying to relax and at night when she was trying to sleep. Not safe, not us.

That was the real gut-punch of the whole thing. Before, the paranoia, the anxiety, the hyper-sensitivity—they had all been things that served a purpose. Her body had been ready for constant assault because she had been under constant assault. But now? Now, she was in bumfuck-nowhere Georgia, with no bills to pay, no job to maintain, only one task: be healthy, for baby. Be happy, and healthy, and do it for baby, because that was her only responsibility. She could no longer function as a single autonomous unit because she was not, by all intents and purposes, a single. Autonomous. Unit. And yet?

And yet.

And yet, the off switch was broken, somewhere in her brain. Broken, or locked behind bars, or somewhere that she couldn’t reach it. Her brain still liked to think she was under constant assault. And if Scarlet’s verbal fencing skills were anything to go by, maybe it was a fair judgment of the situation.

“...standing there for?” Scarlet asked from the couch, her voice filtering in through some strange fuzziness that had erupted in her brain.

“Just—thinking,” Elliot managed, forcing a smile onto her face. She could tell it fell flat from the way her mother regarded her, but she cleared her throat quickly and glanced at Boomer, waiting patiently by the door. “You gonna take care of mama, Boomer?”

“He certainly will not.”

“Protect the homestead.”

“Elliot—”

“He can’t come with me to the barn,” Elliot informed her mother primly. “He’ll be well-behaved here, I promise.”

Her mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. It was something that couldn’t be argued, Boomer’s manners, and so finally she said, “Just don’t be gone long, then.”

Nodding, Elliot opened the front door and slipped out, keys clutched in her hands. The first snowfall of the winter had hit; it was still fresh and powdery, crunching underfoot, and by the time she was carefully pulling out of the driveway, she had nearly forgotten about the strange static fuzz rattling around in her head.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Elliot lifts the glass of champagne to her mouth. Here, John can see the wedding band on her finger—gold and simple, for now. He’d promised her something nicer after things quieted down. She’d said, of course, that she didn’t need anything nicer; she was happy with the one she had. With him.

He thinks that she has never looked so beautiful, bathed in the romantic glow of fairy lights, hair pinned back and the white of the wedding dress dappling lace across her skin. And wearing the ring, of course.

I love you, he wants to say, but cannot. I love you so much, he wants to say, but does not; he watches her set the flute down on the table and he opens his mouth to say it. He has to tell her—she has to know, all of those things he had said, he didn’t mean them. He loves her. He has to tell her so that she can know.

John reaches for her and opens his mouth. She lets him take her face, lashes fluttering closed; when he tries to say it, when he wills the words out of his lungs, he is choking, choking, choking, the sickening scent of flowers rushing over him and he heaves.

The petals spill from his mouth. They tumble to the ground between them. You’re mine, he wants to say, I love you, but the petals choke him on their way out, billowing out from his lungs and tripping on their way out of him, blowing out in gorgeous baby-soft puffs that leave his throat shredded from the inside out.

His hands find her shoulders. He clutches her, because he can’t breathe—there are too many of them, these flowers, each labored attempt at breath making it worse. He’s choking, and Elliot grabs his face with her hands as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

She shoves her fingers into his mouth, packing the petals against the back of his throat, and he can’t breathe, and she says—

“I told you that you couldn’t have both.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

John jolted awake, the sound of the alarm on his phone echoing in the tight space of his car. The dream lingered, stuck somewhere in the back of his throat and on his ribs like a heavy meal yet to be digested. It took a few blinks for him to really gather himself, remember where he was, who he was, what it was he had been doing. It felt like he could still taste the petals in his mouth.

Wicked devil, he thought tiredly, the image of Elliot looking down at him—wretched, and unyielding, as he choked to death—burned behind his eyelids. Even in my dreams, you’re ungrateful.

On his way out of Hope County, he’d dropped the Eden’s Gate truck for some poor shmuck’s sedan. It certainly wasn’t the kind of car he was used to driving in, and not for long periods of time, but he couldn’t risk a cop tagging his plates and finding out that the car was owned by him.

Not that he thought news of what had happened in Hope County had reached anyone yet. The government had their hands full as it was, he was sure—if the news on the radio had anything to say about it, anyway—so he imagined that the extraction of a few “criminals” out of Hope County, Montana had hit the backburner.

Passing a hand over his face tiredly, John tossed the book he’d fallen asleep reading onto the passenger seat and shut the alarm off on his phone. The book joined a collection of others, the titles including but not limited to Unconditional Parenting, The Whole-Brain Child, and other such riveting pieces, set to guide him along the path of parenthood.

He had been in Weyfield for three days; finding Elliot’s ancestral home hadn’t been hard, considering there were only a handful of houses that said rich by their exterior, and fewer less of those that looked to have been constructed so many years ago. In fact, the house that he had narrowed down looked the epitome of a wealthy Southerner’s ancient household; big front columns binding the two-story structure together, a sweeping front porch, and what he could only assume was a painstakingly-maintained garden when it wasn’t covered in a healthy foot of snow.

But more than that—more than the house, and the snow, and the stupid, shitty car he’d been living in for the last week—was Elliot.

His sleep schedule was fucked up because her sleep schedule was fucked up. He’d only caught glimpses of her through the windows, on occasion, and as much as he wanted to go charging into that house and demand she come back to Hope County with him, John knew he had to go about this very carefully. Elliot had willfully left him to be arrested, and she had willfully lied to him, and she had willfully and spitefully informed him of her pregnancy, and that meant that there were too many factors for him to think he could just breeze in and out. He was going to have to be diligent about everything—and that meant learning as much as he could before she figured out he was there.

It made him feel psychotic. It made him feel like a madman, but he supposed that was to be expected. That’s amore.

He had figured out precisely three things since his arrival in Weyfield: Elliot was staying with a woman he could only presume to be her mother, she had yet to make any friends, and she wasn’t sleeping. Every single night—or morning—she was up, moving around on the second floor and sometimes the first. It was nearly Christmas, now, which meant that she had to be at least nearly five weeks. What was she doing, up and about all hours of the night?

Now, watching Elliot haul herself into the jeep, bundled up and puffing hot air onto her hands, he thought, where are you going without the beast, huh? Haven’t seen you spend a second away from him.

John watched the car pull carefully out of the driveway and then head down the road. He’d been parked beneath the cover of a snowy row of cedars, the air inside as cold as outside by the time he’d woken out of his tenuous sleep. Now, as the sight of the dark Jeep disappeared down the residential lane and turned onto the street that would take her out to the country, he turned the key in the ignition.

The car came to life with a shuddering groan. It took a few tries to dig himself out of the fresh snowfall, tires skidding and the orange light reminding him—time and time again—that the tires were having a hard time. Thanks, you piece of shit, he thought tiredly, finally pulling out of the little ditch and setting off down the road. He let a few cars go ahead of him before he turned down the same street Elliot had, driving until the houses became fewer and fewer and it was more pastureland; three cars ahead, he saw Elliot pull down a long drive that wound for an eternity until a...barn?

A fucking stable?

“What the fuck,” he said under his breath, sighing. He should have known—of course she’d find some reason to spend her afternoon around stinking animals. Was that safe for her to be doing? Being around horses?

He pulled a slow u-turn and found a turn out at the top of the hill—close enough to see when she was leaving, but not close enough that he could be seen if she was pulling out. As soon as he shut the car off, the engine ticking as it cooled, John settled back against the seat and let out a long, suffering breath.

Well. He supposed that she should have been grateful she wasn’t leading a particularly exciting life, but he wouldn’t have minded something a little more exciting than this. Something more than staying holed up in her mother’s home—something which he was sure she did not enjoy, if the way she had spoken of her mother before had been any indication—or the occasional walk down the lane with the hound.

It didn’t matter, in the end. Once he felt confident he knew what was going on, once John had figured out what exactly he was up against when it came to fetching Elliot from this Stepford nightmare of a back-water-nobody-town, he’d get a couple of extra resources gathered and snag Elliot hook, line, and sinker.

But first, he would just have to wait.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was pretty easy to find a place that wanted someone to come and brush their horses for free. Elliot had called around to a few places at the behest of her doctor, who had been displeased when she explained no, she did not want to speak to a therapist, but yes, she would take the suggestion of seeking out other avenues of emotional healing.

I’m going to be frank with you, Miss Honeysett, the doctor had said, her voice stern, you can’t keep going the way you are. Stress is bad for babies, let alone post-traumatic stress.

Elliot had fervently nodded her head and explained that yes, she understood, and yes, she would make sure to find a place to relax and destress. And that was how she ended up here the first few times, and now standing in a stall, bringing a brush slowly over the shiny gold coat of a palomino that stood by idly while she fumbled herself through the motions. She had spent a lot of time around horses before, back when she was a kid—back when her grandfather still had his own little mini stable. After he’d died, the horses had of course been sold, even though Elliot had begged her mother to let her keep just one of them.

“They’re racehorses, Elliot, not show ponies,” her mother had snipped, all those years ago. “What are you going to do with a racehorse?”

Run, she’d thought then. Run and run and run, as far as he’ll take me, and we’ll camp out under the stars and then we’ll run some more until no one can find me ever again.

That had been a dream, of course. Now she only had her two legs to carry her wherever she wanted to go, and they had served her pretty well.

“Been around horses before?” someone asked lightly from the stall door. “Before the last couple of times you’ve been here, I mean.”

Elliot’s gaze flickered, snapped out of her thoughts—out of that girl she had been so many years ago—and landed on the same young woman that had gone through all of her paperwork and given her the run-down. Her name was...Sarah? No, it was something else. Something with an S. She was pretty; dark honey-blonde hair swept up into a ponytail, her face pretty enough to be woman and round enough to make that woman look angelic.

“A long time ago,” Elliot admitted sheepishly, her fingers braided into the palomino’s mane as she worked the kinks out of it. “When I was little.”

“Ah,” the woman said, smiling. “It’s sort of like riding a bicycle. How come you aren’t riding?”

“My doctor said not to.” She paused, because that sounded suspicious, and then said, “And anyway, I’d be making a fool out of myself.”

“Everyone makes a fool out of themselves the first time around, even after a long time. But of course, we want you safe,” the blonde replied somberly, but a smile still ticked the corners of her mouth. When she shifted, Elliot could see that her name tag said Sylvia W. “Hey, you’re Honeysett’s kid, aren’t you?”

Ellliot stifled a groan. She had made it through precisely two interactions without someone bringing up her mother in the entire time that she’d been back in Weyfield, and she had been hoping to make this a third. Glancing over at Sylvia’s curious expression, Elliot managed out as politely as she could, “Yes, that’s me.”

“Your mama called,” Sylvia explained amusedly. “Wanted to make sure you got here without problems.”

I’m twenty-six. “Ugh.”

“It’s cute, but she’s...” Sylvia’s gaze flickered while she tried to come up with a word. And then: “Strong.”

A quick, sharp laugh billowed out of her, unexpected, because the idea of someone calling her mother strong was absurd—not because she wasn’t, but because so many other words came to mind before the word ‘strong’ did. Elliot stifled the second laugh that tried to bubble up out of her, and Sylvia grinned.

“Take it that’s not the first impression people get of your mama?”

“No, Sylvia, it certainly is not.”

“Via is fine,” the blonde corrected, not unkindly. After a second, of quiet introspection, she continued, “If you ever wanna get out of your house, my brother and I go to that bar in town—you know, the uh.... Wild Rose? They do trivia night every Thursday. Winner gets fifty bucks.”

“Wow,” Elliot said without thinking, “a whole fifty dollars? To split between the three of us, huh?”

Via flashed a grin. “I knew you had a sense of humor.”

The words caught something funny in her chest, hooking into her all of a sudden. Reminding her that once, she had been funny—once, she’d had friends. Once, she’d had this kind of rapport with—

Shut the fuck up, she thought to herself, viciously, if you wallow every time you think about that fuckface you’re never going to get anywhere.

“So?” Via prompted. “What do you think? Want to be our third?”

“I’m—that’s really nice of you,” Elliot managed out. “I think this week I’ll have to pass. If you think my mama’s strong over the phone, just imagine her in person and five drinks in.”

The blonde grimaced. “Fair enough. But, invite’s always extended, alright?”

“Thanks, Sy—Via.” Elliot corrected herself, earning a quick, playful wink from Sylvia before she disappeared down the hall to resume her duties. She finished brushing the old brute; on occasion he’d twist his head back to bump the dark velvet of his nose against her side, reminding her that he was there and appreciated her.

She finished up the last of the brushing and then dumped her things in the bucket before she carried it out. The last few times she had been here had passed in much the same way—and now that she thought about it, hadn’t Via offered the trivia night thing to her before? Or was she just imagining things?

“Need sleep,” she murmured to no one in particular, depositing her bucket and brushing her hands against her jeans before sliding her coat on. When she had signed herself out on the sheet and stepped out into the late afternoon, the sun had already gone down; it left the world terribly blue, the sky blue and the snow blue-tinted, like someone had slapped a dim neon light over the sun.

Elliot puffed a hot breath of air out, fishing around for her keys and unlocking the car. As her gaze swept absently over the landscape, she spotted a car parked at a pull-out just up the hill. From where she was, it was hard to see—perhaps nearly impossible—and she wouldn’t have noticed if—

If she wasn’t so concerned about seeing a face that was too familiar. Burke, even, would be an unwelcome addition to her life in Weyfield. She tried to stuff down her paranoia; someone was surely just parked while they were sending a text, or making a phone call, or...

Or, they’re watching you, something inside of her said. She ducked into the driver’s side of the car, cranking the heater, but no amount of hot air washed the voice away. Maybe they’re watching you and waiting to arrest you. Or, maybe it’s—

But it couldn’t be. Because the Seeds were in Federal custody, and that meant they weren’t her problem anymore.

Elliot pulled out of the yard, and then carefully onto the highway, checking her mirror every now and then as she drove the short distance home. Just to be sure. Just to be safe. Someone else pulled out of the stable yard, behind her, and then cresting over the hill came a car that might have been the same one that was parked, and maybe wasn’t, because she hadn’t been able to see the make and model, but if it was, then she would have to make some extra turns on her way home, and...

“No,” she said, firmly. “It’s no one. It’s nothing. Just traffic. Other people live here too, you idiot.”

The remainder of the drive was spent forcing herself to keep her eyes on the road and only checking her mirrors when polite driving protocol called for it. After all of that fussing she’d done, she was the only one pulling down the road to her house, and even when she waited in the driveway for a few minutes, nobody followed. No headlights. No strange, dark cars. No monsters to haunt the corners of her vision.

“You’re late,” her mother called from the kitchen when she stepped inside, shaking the snow out of her hair and shrugging out of her coat.

“Traffic,” Elliot lied without thinking. God, had she always been such a wretched liar? Surely not, right? “Smells good, mama.”

“I should hope so. I slaved over it.”

Elliotshot her mother a dry look, taking a bowl out of the cupboard and beginning to scoop the stew Scarlet had made into it. Boomer waited patiently in the doorway of the kitchen—no dogs allowed rule vehemently obeyed—and when Elliot picked two pieces of bread out of the basket on the counter, still warm, her mother said, “How were the horses?”

She paused in the doorway. The stairs to the second floor, and the subsequent peace and quiet, were just there. “Good,” she replied after a moment, inching toward the doorway. “Polite. I—made a friend.”

Scarlet looked up from the book she’d been reading, eyes narrowing. “A horse friend?”

“No, a—a person!”

“Mm.” Scarlet looked back at her book. “Just be careful who you associate with, Elli, you never know who has a reputation here.”

“But you do.” Elliot’s foot hit the first bottom stair. “I’m relying on you to watch my back. Thank you for dinner.”

Before her mother could ask her where she thought she was going—“Taking food up to your room, Elliot? What are you, nine?”—she had fled up them, Boomer trailing after her until she had the bedroom door safely closed and locked with a breath of relief sweeping out of her. Every interaction was like that; wondering if she was going to make a misstep, drag herself into an argument that she didn’t want to have and which she would only be able to escape if she acquiesced and admitted that her mother was right.

Splitting one of the pieces of bread in half, she tossed it to Boomer and kicked her shoes off. He chomped happily, tail brushing against the floor. Elliot ate her dinner with the dim, low volume of the TV playing in the background, until half of her soup was gone and she had curled up under the blankets. It wasn’t until the Heeler burrowed into the blankets next to her, pressed against her side, that she finally felt the dredges of exhaustion begin to pull at her.

The sleeping pills her mother had given to her sat on her bedside table, still untouched. I don’t need them, she thought, shutting the tv off and the lights with it. I don’t need them to sleep.

I’m just fine.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Night fell heavy, quiet and cold. By the time the late hours had passed and early morning was beginning to roll around—the kind of early where the world still slept—Elliot found herself standing in the hallway.

She blinked tiredly. She was still in her jeans; she’d neglected to change. Her hands were on the banister, and below her the living room stretched, long and only dimly lit, effused by the glow of the night lights peppered throughout the house. How did she get here? Had she slept walk? What had woken her?

Slowly, and then all at once, the sound of static drifting from the cracked door of her bedroom registered in her brain. The television was on; that must have been what had woken her. Elliot stood for a minute longer, trying to collect herself, trying to see if she was still dreaming, and then pushed the door to her bedroom open.

Boomer was snoozing quietly on the bed still. The telvision’s channel flickered static once, twice, and when Elliot reached for the remote, the static flipped again and the screen went black.

Not powered-off black. Just—a black screen, still backlit, empty.

White text blinked onto the screen.

HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING STRANGE DREAMS?

Elliot felt her stomach flip. The text blinked out, and then blinked back on, and then stayed. Her heart thudded aggressively against her rib cage, demanding—out out out, it said, desperate for a reprieve from this sudden chill spilling down her spine. She reached blindly, no longer sure where the remote was, when the text blinked again.

HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING STRANGE DREAMS?

No, she thought furiously, even though she knew it wasn’t true and that it didn’t matter. Whatever kind of strange late-night programming this was—and that’s what it had to be—wasn’t going to give her a response and certainly wasn’t waiting for one. She would just need to—

HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING STRANGE DREAMS?

Elliot’s fingers gripped the remote and she pressed her finger feverishly, missing the power button once, twice, and then a third time before she finally hit it and the television clicked off. Her hands were shaking; her whole body was shaking, and she quickly crawled back under the covers until Boomer was whuffling, tired and inquisitive, against her face. Her fingers knotted in his fur and she closed her eyes tight.

Even when they were closed, she saw the words, burned behind her eyelids. The inner strength to stay like that only lasted for another few minutes before she grabbed the bottle of sleeping pills and took one, swallowing it down dry and then dropping the container back on to her nightstand.

She would sleep. She would sleep, and forget about the strange commercial, and she would get her fucking life together.

In the morning. After sleep.

No strange dreams, she thought, not for me.

Not anymore.

[reevesdriver]

Mountain Man

Summary: John Wick is retired and has moved to live in a cabin in the middle of the woods away from civilisation. One day you stumble through the woods after following the wrong path on a hike and end up in his territory.

Word count: 2285

Character(s): John Wick

Reader: Female reader

Warning(s): None.

(AN: I’m a little rust but please do enjoy. I really loved writing this so much and I am so happy to be getting back into the rhythm of writing regularly.)

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” You muttered to yourself as you tried to find your way back to the hiking path. It was beginning to get dark and you’d made the awful decision to go hiking alone in an unfamiliar location and now you were lost in the middle of the woods with no phone signal or compass. You had a map but lets face it how would that help when you didn’t know where on the map you stood?

You sighed as you kicked some of the sticks around underneath your feet trying to decide on which direction to start walking in, you spun around and took a deep breath as you began to walk in a random direction that you felt looked familiar. The woods were quiet, far too quiet for your liking but it was better them being quiet than full of growls from wolves or bears that likely dominated the area.

It took about half an hour of walking between the trees that seemed to all look the same before you became aware of heavy footsteps behind you and a heart stopping feeling of uneasiness hit you. You tried your best to steady your breathing as you began to pick up the pace and walk faster not caring if the direction you chose didn’t look right as long as you put enough distance between you and whoever, or whatever, was behind you.

You spent more time trying to listen to the noises behind you and less time concentrating on where you was walking because before you knew it there was a dip in the forest and you ended up twisting your foot and falling flat on your stomach your hands doing nothing to prevent the impact as they sunk into the soggy mud below you. The footsteps behind you got louder as you tried to crawl and kick to get away but the pain from your foot shot up your leg immobilising you, you didn’t know whether it was from the exhaustion or the rush of emotions but your eyelids felt heavy and soon you blacked out.

                                                      ————

When you woke up you expected to see the sky above you but instead you were greeted with high wooden beams that looked both old, damaged but well maintained at the same time. The sound of wood crackling brought your focus to the rest of the room and you turn your head slowly to see a fire burning underneath a large chimney. As you look down you’re thankful that you’re still wearing your shorts and t-shirt but frown when you see the numerous amounts of cuts and bruises that scatter your legs not to mention the bandage that has been wrapped around your ankle.

You decided that despite how nice this home clearly was you didn’t want to overstay your welcome so as you stood with the blanket wrapped around you and attempted to put as little pressure on your foot as possible you limped away from the sofa and out into the hallway. The sound of a knife hitting a cutting board could be heard down the opposite end of the hallway and you contemplated whether to grab your bag and leave through the front door to the right of you or whether to go and thank whoever had helped you.

Going against your better judgement you decided to leave your bag and follow the chopping sound trying your hardest not to fall due to your weak ankle that throbbed from the little weight you put on it. You make it to the doorway of what appears to be the kitchen and see a large man stood next to a sink with his back to you.

“H-Hi.” You stuttered trying your best not to startle the man as he continued to cut whatever was on the kitchen counter.

He placed the kitchen knife down on the counter and turned to face you and that’s when you finally got a good look at him. He was tall and from what you could see of his face beneath the long black hair and messy beard he appeared to be quite handsome.

“Thank you for helping me, I’m sorry for the inconvenience-” You begin to apologise but he holds his hand up motioning for you to stop.

He turns and grabs something from off the counter and you half expected it to be a knife but your gaze softened when you saw that it was a bowl of what appeared to be fruits chopped up. The man moved over to the table that stood between the both of you and pulled one of the chairs out placing the bowl in front of it.

“Eat.” He speaks with a raspy voice and you shamefully pull the blanket tighter around you as your skin prickles with goosebumps.

You move forwards attempting to put as little weight on your bandaged leg as possible as you take a seat on the chair that he pulled out. You pull the blanket over your shoulders and pick out a piece of apple from the bowl biting into it and sighing at how good it tastes. Although it’s just an apple it has been a few hours since you’ve had food so anything tastes delicious.

“What time is it?” You ask holding a slice of apple between your dirty fingers.

“Late.”

“Oh, I really need to be going.” You say moving the blanket off of your shoulders as you try and stand.”

“Stay.” The man says pushing against your shoulders with his large hands causing you to sit back down. “Too dark.”

“Well.. do you have a shower or bath I could use? Maybe a change of clothes as?”

The man nodded and walked out of the room and down the hallway before stopping and turning round when he realised that you were not following him, he looked down at your bandaged ankle and marched back to you scooping you up in his thick arms as he stopped back to the stairs and quickly made his way up them seemingly gliding as you try and comprehend what is going on.

When you reached the landing he guided you to the bathroom and surprisingly it was a lot tidier than you’d expected but you didn’t have time to observe the room before he placed you down onto the tiled floor and placed a hand on your lower back guiding you to the far side of the room where you saw a bath pressed against the window that overlooked part of the forest and a lake that you happily didn’t see or fall into last night.

The man stepped next to you, put the plug into the bath and turned on the taps running both the hot and cold water before hastily moving to get a towel for you. Once the water was at a decent level you quickly stripped and climbed in wincing as the warm water encased your wounds before reducing the feeling to a low throbbing sensation. You leaned backwards attempting to rest against the bath but shot up and yelped when you felt pain hit you. You couldn’t see how bad the wound was or what caused it but it must have been made by a branch from a tree when you were pushing through the woods.

The man mustn’t have been far from the room because he soon stormed into the room with a look of confusion across his face. “My back, I think I've done something to it, can you take a look?” You ask trying to cover your front up as much as you could whilst simultaneously turning in the bath to expose your back to the man.

He moves towards you and you jump slightly when you feel his fingers brush the hairs off your back exposing the painful site to him. “Your back cut, I help?” He says reaching for the cloth that you used to wash your face. You give it to him without further hesitation and he makes quick work of soaking  it in the bath water before rising it up to your back pressing it up against the wound with force causing you to growl in pain.

“Gentle!” You raise your voice to him hoping he reduces the pressure ASAP.

“No move.” He says as you try to wriggle away from him. “I say no move!” He repeats sterner than before as he presses a hand against your chest and pushes you back against him whilst he cleans the blood that began to pour from your back.

His fingers linger dangerously close to your throat and it’s a gesture that makes you obey his order as you sit up straight and try to remain still as he cleans your back. His movements are now gentle and you’re satisfied that he actually listened to your request. You take a moment to to admire his reflection in the window across from you and cant help but smirk when you see the concentration on his face as he cleans your wound.

He places a hand flat against your upper back and pushes you forwards to he can check for any injuries that might be on your lower back before he places a hand on your uninjured shoulder and attempts to turn you round in the bath to face him. “My front is fine.” You reassure him and he gives up trying to check if you’re hurt and hiding it.

You spot a jug on the side of the bath and reach for it deciding to wash any grime out of your hair. You fill the jug with water and try to raise your arms to wash your hair but the pain from your wrists and shoulders is too much so when the man reaches to take the jug from your hands you’re too weak to stop him. He raises the jug above your head and you tilt your head back so he can pour the water over you.

He sighs with content as he brushes his fingers through your hair and across your scalp sending a wave of heat to your face and thighs. He washes the dried mud from your hair being sure not to pull on your hair too much since he doesn’t want to upset you again by putting you in more pain than before.

You turn in the bath using one arm whilst your other arm covers your breasts so that you don’t expose yourself to the mystery man. You do your best to cover up as he stands holding the towel open for you keeping his eyes fixated on your body clearly having no inkling or consideration that he is doing anything wrong as you quickly take the towel from his hands and wrap it around you.

“Thank you.”

“John.” The man speaks and you pause your movements as you look over to him. “My name, John.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“Pretty name.” He speaks with a slight smile before resting the corners of his mouth to a straight line.

John turns and leaves the room and once again you try your best to keep up and follow him as he moves into what you assume is his room. His bed is large and neat and you can’t help but imagine exactly how much room this man must take up in such a big bed like that.

“You are cold?” He asks with concerned eyes.

“I’m fine.”

“For you.” He says holding out a t-shirt and some joggers before leaving the room.

You get dried and dressed as quickly as you can whilst standing with your back to John, you hand him the used towel which he takes and leaves the room before returning empty-handed.

“Come with me.” He speaks moving from the doorway.

You hear him walking down the hallway and quickly try to follow him as best as you can, clearly he forgets that you have an injured leg because he stops at the bottom of the stairs and breaths heavily through his nose with his arms folded as he stares up at you. You make your way down the stairs as quickly as you can and meet up with him again before he takes off into a different part of the house that you haven’t seen yet. As you finally enter the room after what felt like a few minutes you are startled to see the large fireplace that is positioned in the centre of the back wall between two large bookcases that are overflowing with leather back and paper back books.

“Sit.” He says motioning to the spot in front of the fireplace before he quickly leaves the room. You disobey him and instead move over to one of the bookcases and begin reading the spines for anything that peaked your interest, the books ranged from general history to ‘How to’ topics and gardening.

“Have you read all of these?” You ask when he enters the room again, his face clearly indicating he was annoyed that you moved out of your seat.

“Yes.”

“You must really like reading then, there have to be about 100 books here.”

“More than that.” He grunts taking your hand and walking you back to the sofa where he sits you down and hands you a hot cup of tea.

“Thank you.” You say taking a sip from the cup and savouring the taste of the hot drink in your mouth. “This is lovely.”

“I know.”

You can’t help but sink back into the sofa as the heat radiating from the hot tea and the man next to you encases you sending you into a deep sleep before you get a chance to stop it.

[thirstyforlulu]

Alucard x Reader: For Your Convenience Chapter 5

You opened the door, unsure of what to say. How should you greet them? “Hello, welcome to my master’s house,” no that sounds awful.

The door creaked loudly, practically blocking out your thoughts. With it fully opened, you came face to face with a woman with long blond hair and incredibly piercing blue eyes. Her looks caught you off guard and from the way she raised her brow you did the same to her.

“Hello, has anyone else arrived for the meeting?” She asked, quickly bouncing back from her shock.

“Y-Yes ma’am, but only a few. P-Please follow me,” You said, bowing and gesturing in the direction of the dining hall.

“Wonderful. Walter, take my bags to whatever room I’ll be staying in. Alucard will show you the way,” The woman said to her butler who was politely standing to the side.

They both stepped inside, while the woman stood and waited for you to lead the way, Walter walked off to find Alucard. He seemed to know the way since he headed straight for the sitting room where the others were relaxing.

The woman stretched, taking off her long coat. You went to take it from her, which you figured was what a maid would do, but she stopped you, choosing to hang it on the rack by herself.

“Don’t worry. I can tell you’re not doing this because you want to,” She said, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Have I made it obvious? I am so sorry please don’t get Alucard involved,” You cried, thinking she was going to report you.

“Relax, I won’t tell anyone. I wonder though, how did you find yourself in this predicament?’ She asked, leading you toward the meeting room.

“I-I wanted to help the village nearby. I promised him myself in exchange for the lives he would take,” You explained while looking down at your feet in shame.

“Interesting, what makes you different from all the ones who came before you?” She asked, rhetorically.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, my name is Integra. What’s yours?”

“Y/N.”

“I look forward to getting to know you y/n,” She said as you two arrived.

The others walked up to greet her, happily exchanging pleasantries as you returned to your job watching the door.

Next to arrive was a young blonde woman and a tall redheaded man. The girl smiled when she saw you, quickly taking your hand before you could say anything.

“Hello! Who are you?” She asked excitedly.

“My name is y/n, if you’ll follow me I’ll take you to the meeting,” You said, trying to sound professional.

“Awww I like your name. I’m Seras, has Alucard told you about me yet?”

“I don’t think so, but I’m fairly new.”

“That’s alright, it probably just hasn’t come up, I’m his fledgling!”

You’d heard the term before and knew what it meant, but it was still incredibly foreign to you. Alucard turned her? You wondered what the situation surrounding that was like, was it her idea or his?

“Sorry, this is Pip, my fledgling” Seras said, turning and smiling at the redhead.

“That’s wonderful, if you two would follow me.”

They held hands and followed you into the meeting room where everyone else was already seated. Alucard was at the head of the table, Integra to the right with Walter standing alert behind her, and Luke and Jan were to the left but two seats down. Seras and Pip took the empty spaces, greeting the gathered group before sitting down.

The others who came were just random vampires who didn’t really leave any sort of impression on you. They seemed bland, lacking in interesting qualities besides the fangs in their mouths. Some of them treated you like dirt, tossing their coats at you without a thought.

When you lead a male vampire in, Alucard gestured to the bottle of wine sitting on the serving table to his side, letting you know it was time to start pouring. You ran over with a nod, then began carefully pouring glass after glass for the gathered guests. Once you were done, Al pointed to a corner for you to stand in. As you took your place, he stood and tapped his glass.

“Thank you all for coming. It is a pleasure to see you all gathered here. As you all know, there has been a development in Anaroma regarding the artificial vampires, Integra, you have the floor to explain your findings,” He said, starting the meeting.

Finally, it all clicked in your brain. Anaroma, the magic capital of the world, was said to have a witch so powerful she had every vampire in the world under her thumb. This had to be her.

“Thank you, Alucard,” She began, standing and addressing the rest of the room. “For the last 3 months, artificial vampires have been appearing in Anaroma. I was first alerted to their existence when one of them donated their blood to me for a spell and it went awry. I have since devised a spell that will mark any artificials with a red A on the back of their neck. Up until recently, the number of artificials has stayed relatively with a new one appearing once a week or so, but the numbers have changed. Now we’re looking at three or four. Whoever is doing this has become more efficient.”

Seras raised her hand and Integra waved to allow her to speak.

“Do we have any intel on where they might be coming from? Is there a certain part of town they seem to be based in?” She asked.

You noticed one of the vampires raise their glass for a refill so you quickly walked over with the bottle.

“Not that we can tell. I’ve had Walter keep a map of where the artificials lived, but there doesn’t seem to be any discernable pattern.”

Another vampire raised their hand.

“An artificial appeared in Rosta a few days ago. They were killed before we could gather any information however. All we could tell is they were a citizen of the city, but we don’t know of any connections in Anaroma.”

“That could mean they traveled there or whoever is doing this is expanding their little project,” Integra groaned.

Everyone in the room shared worried glances, clearly unnerved by the implications.

“Right now we need to focus on finding out how they are being created. If we can learn the method we can maybe track whoever has access to the resources needed to pull it off. Pip, has your team managed to make any headway?”

Pip shrugged.

“Well, we haven’t managed to create an artificial yet, but we have managed to get close. We found that when injected with the blood of a vampire the patient seems to exhibit signs of vampirism, but it doesn’t seem to be permanent,” Pip explained.

“Given the culture of magic in Anaroma, Vampire blood isn’t that hard to get a hold of. It wouldn’t surprise me if it were involved in the process,” Integra added.

“Walter, look into the market for vampire blood, see if you can pinpoint the major buyers, and report back to us. Pip, I’d like you and your team to tone down the scale of experimentation. Focus on one or two patients that have shown the most promise and stop testing on the others. Everyone else, keep an eye out for new artificials. If you suspect you may have found one contact Integra, so she may perform the spell to know for sure. Does anyone have any other concerns?” Alucard asked.

The others all shook their heads. With that Alucard stood up.

“Well, I think that brings our meeting to a close. If any of you require accommodations for the night please speak with me.”

With that, everyone stood up and began socializing. You were a little overwhelmed to see them all standing. Suddenly the large room appeared tiny and you felt yourself getting lightheaded. Nobody attempted to talk to you thankfully, so you didn’t have to worry about holding yourself together for a conversation.

A male vampire cut through the crowd and approached you, holding his empty glass out.

“Can I get a refill darling?” He asked, getting an eyefull of your outfit.

“S-Sure,” You replied, unable to meet his startling yellow eyes.

As you poured the wine, you began to feel more and more lightheaded with each second. Everything was beginning to go black, the only thing you were aware of was a hand holding you up.

“You smell incredible, it would be foolish to leave without a meal like you,” The vampire said mere inches from your face.

Before you passed out, however, the man dropped you, causing you to fall limply to the ground. The fuzzy feeling in your head disappeared instantly, and you opened your eyes to see what was happening.

Alucard held the other vampire roughly by the arm, twisting it into an unnatural position. The vampire quivered in place, worried for his life.

“To think scum like you would attempt to steal from me. You don’t even deserve the dirt stuck in my soles!” Alucard hissed, turning the man’s arm even further.

“I hadn’t meant any disrespect. I figured this was just another human for us all to feed from. If I had known they were such a precious specimen I would have never-”

“Get out of my house.”

The vampire nodded, grabbing his things and running off like a wounded animal. Everyone who was watching the spectacle turned and pretended not to notice, hoping not to incur his wrath on accident.

He didn’t help you up, instead, Alucard just walked away to return to socializing. You managed to slowly lift yourself back up, nearly losing your balance as your wobbly legs struggled to take on your full weight.

“Here let me help,” Seras said, taking your arm to support you.

Pip took the other, and the two of them led you away from it all and into the sitting room. They carefully lowered you down onto a couch and brought you a glass of water.

“Felling better?” Seras asked.

“Getting there.”

“I’ve never seen him act like that before,” Seras muttered.

“What?” You asked, unsure if you’d heard her correctly.

“Alucard has never cared much for humans, always seeing them as nothing more than food. When he turned me, he said it was because he saw aspects of himself in me, but I wonder what makes him want to keep you?”

You didn’t respond, prompting her to sit up and encourage you to drink more.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be pushing this information on you. You just sit here and relax, we’re going to turn in. Don’t push yourself,” She said, taking Pip’s hand and leading him off.

You were only able to wave goodbye, too delirious to form a proper sentence. At some point, you managed to dose off as you were awoken with a start by Alucard. He was right in front of you, glaring down with his arms crossed.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed me making a fool of myself to come to your rescue. I’m starting to wonder if your blood is worth the trouble you’re causing me,” He growled.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up, the only apology I need from you is silence,” He interrupted, grabbing your chin and turning it to the side.

With your neck exposed, you tensed in fear knowing what was coming next. His fangs pierced your skin like needles pulling a tiny scream from you. As he began to drink, you felt yourself growing weak. You tried to push him off, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

When he pulled away, he had drunk so much your vision was getting blurry.

“You will tend to the guests tonight and tomorrow, but after that, your punishment will continue. He said, getting up and heading towards his room.

You didn’t move, scared that if you did you’d faint. His footsteps stopped a few feet from you and you could hear him shuffle as he turned around.

“Remember, even though I’m not right there, I will be watching you,” He warned then continued his trip to his room.

Once he was gone, you breathed a sigh of relief. Knowing it wasn’t safe to get up yet, you chose to continue laying down with your arm covering your eyes until you felt well enough to move. Your breathing was fast and labored, coming out in loud bursts. You thought you were alone, but then someone appeared in front of you.

“Drink this,” Integra said, handing you a small vial with a silver-colored liquid inside.

You jumped, not expecting her to be there. At first, you were skeptical of the drink, but seeing the determination on her face made you feel better about it. It had a strange fruity taste to it that didn’t really sit right with you, but once you had swallowed it all you felt instantly better.

“Thank you,” You said, handing her the vial back.

“You’re welcome.”

Looking at the floor, you once again found yourself too intimidated to speak, but there was a question burning within you that you just had to ask.

“Why are you helping me?”

Integra smiled standing in front of you.

“Why not? I am interested to see what will become of all of this, and I can’t help but feeling that you’ll be playing an important role in it all,” She replied cryptically.

Before you could ask more, she had walked off in the direction of, you assumed, her room.

[sirius-archive]

Could I get an imagine where the reader is a muggle American and she’s on vacation in London with her family and she somehow lost her family and she’s like freaking out and then she runs into Sirius on the streets and he like helps calm her down and helps her find her family? Sorry if this is a weird request

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader, James Potter x Lily Evans (mentioned) 

Warnings: Swearing, stranger danger too, I guess. 

A/N: so sorry this took so long! I loved the idea and I hope I did it justice. I might add to it later on or revamp it bc I love the idea but it’s a big maybe at the moment bc I’m so busy with uni and work and also my other wips. I hope you enjoy this though. Also I changed the request quite a bit bc I forgot what you originally wanted! So sorry!! 

just want to add that I did something o probably shouldn’t and included my real life friends! With their permission, ofc. I also made a modern reference even tho it’s supposed to be the seventies but I liked it too much so I left it in ha ha. Also…pls don’t talk to strangers. This is fanfiction people not an advice column. 

****

It’s another uncharacteristically warm day in London.

The sun showers blankets of warm golden light over the city, guilding skyscrapers and warming the sweet, honeyed breeze. Sparrows are chirping sweet, morning songs, dancing in the air with surprising grace. Squirrels scamper across lush green grounds in a park nearby, happily bidding you a good morning.

And not one of these motherfuckers are going to help you find your friends.

You wander aimlessly past the same park monument you saw just half an hour ago. Your legs are already aching, your feet are forming blisters that hurt the more you think about them, and the sun is slowly drilling into your soul.

You think you might die of thirst before you find your friends.

In retrospect, it wasn’t entirely Sophie’s fault. While it was her dumb shit idea to tag along with the sexy British tour guide, you, Matt, Aaron, Riley and Reuben had been far more interested in touring the British Museum. So it wasn’t at all surprising when Sophie rushed off with knockoff Colin Firth to have a jolly high tea or whatever it is British people do on dates. Still, it gave you an opportunity to visit the museum.

You hadn’t even walked through the front gates when Matt, Aaron and Riley wandered off to have a deep and meaningful (you had warned Riley that coming on the trip with Aaron would cause some tension between your group. Thing between you and Aaron were a lot more complicated than the five-night-stand you’d shared last year). Reuben, being his usual womanising self, started flirting with the hot receptionist and not wanting any part of that (last time you wing-womaned for Reuben, the chick thought you were seeking a third), you stepped out for some air.

Now, you’re trying to navigate through the urban maze that is London by yourself, struggling to find your friends who are scattered all over the city.

Slumping against a park chair, you take a deep breath and study your map again. A part of you is screaming at you to swallow your pride and ask for directions but you’re a stubborn New Yorker and if you can effortlessly find your way through the Big Apple, you can tackle London.

“You’re not from around here…” says a masculine voice behind you. You sit up straight, whipping around in the direction of the voice.

Holy fucking cucumber sandwich.

The most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes on leans against the trunk of an old oak tree, observing you with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. He looks like he chomps down magical donuts that grant him sexy powers. You stare.

A cigarette hangs from his kissable, smirking lips. His hair falls gracefully around his face, framing glinting gray-blue eyes, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He’s wearing a leather jacket and exudes all types mysterious-sexy-bad boy vibes. You’d bet a hundred bucks that he rides a motorcycle too.

Boys with motorcycles are usually trouble.

Your mouth goes a little bit dry.

“Please don’t be a serial killer,” you mutter and the stranger cocks a perfect eyebrow.

“What was that?”

You shake your head, “I mean — Is it that obvious?”

Sexy bad boy stranger shrugs, “I know a lost tourist when I see one.”

“Is this what you do, then? Lurk around parks waiting for lost tourists?”

Bad boy chuckles — a deep growling sound that rumbles at the back of his throat, “Maybe. Maybe I was just walking past and thought I’d help out a pretty girl in need.”

It takes all of your willpower not to blush now.

“So you’re just a Good Samaritan, then.”

“I’m whatever you want me to be.”

“What if I want you to go away?”

The handsome, young motorbike guy takes a deliberate step forward, “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You swallow. He’s good at this game. Something tells you that you’re not the first victim of his play-boy charms.

Desperately trying to reclaim your composure, you fold your arms across your chest and glare at him.

“What makes you think I need your help?”

British James Dean thinks for one attractive moment, “Well, you don’t have to accept my help but something tells me that if you don’t ask for directions soon, you’re going to end up wandering around London forever.”

He makes a good point.

You stand up from your seat, arms still folded across your chest, “Hypothetically speaking, If I were to accept your help, how would I know that you’re not a perverted serial killer who wants to collect my spleen and leave me in a ditch or something?”

Sexy stranger takes another step forward, “That’d be a shame. You’re too beautiful to kill, and I’m just beginning to like you.”

“That’s exactly what a perverted serial killer would say.”

“Touché. Alright, how about this: I drop you off at your hotel straight away, no detours and no taxi fees that you have to fork out to greedy muggl— erm, I mean, drivers.”

You consider this. He certainly doesn’t seem like a serial killer. Still, it’s hard to trust a charming stranger, especially one as handsome as he is. Then again, if he’s smart — which he definitely is — he’d never kill you in broad daylight in the middle of London.

You uncross your arms and hold one out for him to shake, “Alright, deal.”

Sexy stranger takes your hand and shakes it. His hand is strong and firm and electricity sparks in the warm space where your hands are clasped together.

“Sirius.”

“What?”

“Sirius.”

You blink at him, “Is that some kind of fungal STI that I need to be aware of?”

Sexy stranger chuckles again, “My name is Sirius.”

Sirius? Who the fuck calls their kid Sirius? You have to admit that the name suits him, and the way he says it — in a husky, velvety murmur — gives the name an alluring sex appeal, which sums him up completely.

You consider giving him a fake name but ultimately decide against it. That’s just weird and you can’t lie for shit.

“I’m (Y/N).”

Sirius repeats your name, tasting it on his lips. A more carnal part of you wishes he’d say it in a completely different context.

“Alright, (Y/N),” Sirius smiles, and he practically glows with charisma, “Lets get you home.”

***

You were right, of course. About the motorcycle.

Sirius’ carefully-polished motorbike is almost as sexy as it’s owner; gleaming in the sunlight and flaunting a sleek black paint job with plush leather seats. Several passerby’s stop to admire it (or Sirius, you can’t exactly tell), though Sirius doesn’t pay them any mind. One dudebro with a repugnantly bright tank top gawks at the motorbike while his girlfriend stares hungrily at Sirius.

“I’ve…never ridden a motorcycle before,” you bleat nervously.

Sirius hands you a helmet and smiles.

“Just hold onto me and you’ll be fine.”

Sirius mounts his motorbike and you awkwardly slide in behind him. You’re not sure where to put your hands so you place them on his shoulders. You think you hear Sirius laugh behind his helmet.

Sirius turns the ignition, revs the engine, and kicks the bike into gear.

“You alright back there?” He calls over the roar of the bike.

“Uh—yeah.”

“Hold onto my waist,” he orders, “You’ll be more secure.”

You’re about to protest but then Sirius takes off and you find your arms flying to his waist, gripping on tightly.

It’s exhilarating. Liberating. Intoxicating.

As Sirius weaves between London traffic, you feel a rush of adrenaline pulse through your veins. The air whips past, fluttering around the ruffled trim of your dress. Your hands soak in the warmth of Sirius’ body, his muscles firm beneath your touch.

You pass familiar landmarks and stores you passed when you and your friends took the double-decker bus from your hotel room. You recognise the buildings around you and realise the hotel is just a few kilometres down the street, on the right.

Suddenly, Sirius veers off to the left and zooms down a street you don’t recognise.

“What are you doing? The hotel is up that way!”

“I just have to make a quick stop,” he shouts over his shoulder.

“That wasn’t part of the deal!”

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

You clutch onto him, apprehension beginning to claw away at your lower belly. Where is he taking you? How could you have been so stupid to trust an extremely attractive stranger to follow through with a deal?

Sirius slows the bike down until it rolls to a stop and flicks the engine off, climbing off sexily. He helps you clamber awkwardly off the bike and you tear your helmet off, taking in your surroundings for the first time.

You’re next to a footpath with a view of the The Thames, lined with large ornamental pear trees. Its quite a romantic spot with a view of the entire city sitting pretty behind the flowing River Thames.

Sirius tells you to wait by the motorbike and stalks away, rushing toward a boy who looks about your age. He’s tall, has messy black hair, and half-frame glasses. He looks like a sexy professor with the body of an Olympic swimmer that all the girls have crushes on.

Why are all the men here so insanely attractive?

You’re just about to sink into a delightful fantasy of sexy Professor feeding you grapes when Sirius comes up behind you.

“Ready to go?”

You ignore his question, “Who was the god — I mean — guy that you saw?”

Sirius arches an eyebrow. You notice for the first time that there is a scar knitted into it, “That’s James. He’s a total prat, by the way.”

“Sounds like you two have that in common,” you quip and Sirius mocks offence.

“Anyone tell you that you’re cruel?”

“Everyday of my life.”

“Here I was thinking you were just another hot little American bird.”

For one half of a millisecond, your brain snags on the word ‘hot.’ Did he just call you hot? You heard that right? You recover with grace, grinning wickedly.

“You’ll get over it.”

A teasing smirk flirts around the corners of Sirius’ lips, a little crookedly, slanting lazily in a way that makes your cheeks warm. He looks amused by this verbal tug-of-war but also a little turned on.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way.

“You ever walk along the River Thames?” Sirius asks, sliding his strong, sexy hands into the pocket of his sexy leather jacket. He begins to follow the footpath, leading you past the knots of pigeons and moonstruck lovers.

“No,” you sigh, “Admittedly, I just came along for the underage drinking and the hot British guys.”

Sirius laughs, “How’s that working out for you?”

You shrug, teasing him with a flirtatious smile, “I’m still working on it.”

“If you want,” Sirius begins, clawing at the nape of his neck, “I can help you out with that.”

You quirk a carefully-manicured brow, “What, you know any hot guys like your buddy James?”

Sirius snorts, “I wouldn’t go saying that around his girlfriend.”

“Why, is she the jealous type?”

“No, she’s the ‘try-not-to-make-his-fat-Head-even-fatter’ type.”

You chuckle, intrigue plucking at your mind, “She’s my type of girl.”

“Lily is everyone’s type of girl.”

“Well now I just have to meet her.”

Sirius raises his brows, a spark of hope in his eyes, “Is that your way of telling me that you’re taking me up on the offer for free beer?”

“You never said it was free before.”

“I’m feeling generous.”

“Aw, and they say chivalry is dead.”

Sirius laughs easily in a way that is completely carefree, as though laughter bubbles just beneath his skin, itching to pour out. It’s mesmerising how he doesn’t seem to take life too seriously.

“You are something else,” he says, letting his eyes catch and linger on yours for a quiet, suspended moment.

A gust of warm, summer wind brings peach blossoms raining down. The gentle coo of a skylark echoes in the distance. Time slows to a stop to stare at the two of you.

He steps forward, like he’s about to kiss you.

You let him.

He tastes like liquor and rebellion, a little wild in a way you’ve never realised you’ve wanted, you’ve needed. His hands are strong as they wrap around you, pulling you flush against his chest. Your fingers roam through his hair, tangling, tugging, earning a low groan from the back of his throat. You feel drunk on him, your head spinning and your heart thumping, as though it’s trying to tear through your chest and leap into his strong, capable hands. Suddenly, you realise how weird this is. He’s a stranger you’ve known for an hour or so yet now you’re kissing him. It’s as though you’re somehow drawn to him, to his energy, to the way he seems to know you intimately, in ways you hardly know about yourself. You break away, taking a step away from him. Sirius looks like he’s five again and has just had his favourite toy ripped away from him. 

““Are you—?”

Slap

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you’re slapping him across the cheek, not hard but he feels it. You kissed a stranger. That is a thing you did. You also slapped said stranger, partly because of impulse and partly because you’re terrified of how quickly your feelings are beginning to stir for someone you hardly know. Sirius is stunned, silent, staring at you with shock and hurt that stings you more than it should. You stare back, drawn in by every fleck of colour in his eyes, suddenly aware that, sure, he may be a stranger but that doesn’t mean he has to stay one. Obviously, you have a connection.

 So…connect.

 You crash your lips against his again, throwing your arms around his neck. 

Your friends can wait. You’ve found yourself a new tour guide. 

[crackedoutgiraffe]

To the Moon and Back

To the Moon and Back

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

A/N: Chapter 18

You and Reid had been together for 10 months. It was everything you’d wanted in a relationship. You knew he was having terrible headaches and was having trouble sleeping. He told you he was talking to a doctor about it.

One morning after he had fallen asleep on the couch, he rushed out of the apartment. He didn’t tell you where he was going. You went into work like normal only to find everyone gathered around Spencer in the bullpen. You took a seat and waited for someone to start talking. Reid looked horrible, he was disheveled and his hair was a mess.

“He thinks he'll get away with this, and he might,” Reid started, his voice was breaking as he spoke. “I have a wealth of knowledge I should be applying to this case. Behavioral patterns of violent stalkers. Tactical recovery strategies. Victim survival odds. But right now I can't focus on anything more than 4 seconds at a time. Which makes me the dumbest person in the room. So... Please help me. Help me find her.”

“We don't know if we have a case. So we'll be working on personal time. Does anybody want to leave?” Hotch looked around for signs of disagreement. “Good. Let's get to work.” Everyone filed away from the desks. You left the bullpen and head for the bathrooms.

Reid could probably see the betrayal on your face. He followed you out of the bullpen. When he caught up with you, he grabbed your arm and pulled you into a hug, “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should have told you earlier,” he let you go.

“Is there anything else I should know?” you asked with a straight face.

“She told me she loved me,” you scoffed. “But I need you to know that I love you,” He pulled you into another hug. “I love you, not her.”

“I love you too,” you wrapped your arms around him. “Let’s catch this guy.”

The two of you walked into the conference room to everyone around the table looking at the letters Reid provided. 

“Based on Maeve's description of the unsub in her letters, he seems like a classically possessive stalker,” Morgan examined one of the letters.

“One who craves validation and recognition. ‘What won't you see me?’ ‘Do you think you're better than me?’ This comes up again and again,” JJ flipped through a few of them.

“So does his suicidal ideation. ‘When I find you, I'm going to kill you, then myself.’” Blake read.

“Murder-suicide is the ultimate ‘I love you’ to these guys,” Rossi scoffed.

“When did the unsub start targeting Maeve?” Hotch asked.

“Maeve said it started out of the blue. My guess is it was some sort of incidental interaction, something she probably wasn't even aware of,” Reid explained.

“That's gonna make the unsub hard to find,” you picked up a letter from the table.

“And Maeve, too, until we know more about her,” Rossi added.

“I found her,” Garcia exclaimed. “There are not many geneticists with that name, but... Dr. Maeve Donovan took a sabbatical from Mendel University 10 months ago.” 

“That fits the timeline,” Blake sighed. 

“Oh, she's a smart cookie,” Garcia typed on her laptop. “She burned her credit history, but her parents rented a loft in the warehouse district 5 days ago.” 

“Did the parents sell their house recently?” Rossi asked. 

Garcia dug deeper into their records,“No.” 

“They might be helping her hide,” Hotch noted. “Morgan, you and JJ go to the loft. Blake and Dave, go to the lab. Y/N, stay here and help Garcia. How clear is your head?” 

“Not very clear,” Reid rubbed his temple.

“I want to talk to her parents, but I want you to observe the interview,” Hotch grabbed a few things from the table.

“Reid. I have a picture of her. Do you want to see what she looks like?” Garcia whispered. 

“No,” he stood up and followed Hotch out. Everyone else got up to leave.

“Alright, Garcia let’s do this,” You pulled out a chair and sat down. “This phrase is interesting, ‘You think you’re better than me?’ who says that.”

“Maybe it's a colleague who’s idea she disproved,” Garcia shrugged.

“Look at lab assistants and anyone pursuing a doctorate in genetics from Mendel University,” you shuffled through the letters while Garcia typed on her computer. Rossi brought you photos to scan through an hour later. You and Garcia walked to her office and started to scan the pictures.

“Ok, I'm sharing something I haven't told anyone. Every time we have a stalking case, I think Rosanna Arquette,” Garcia blurted.

“The whole Arquette family to choose from and you go with Rosanna,” you giggled.

“Of course I go with Rosanna, because Rosanna Arquette was the inspiration for two seminal songs of my childhood. "Rosanna, " by Toto... Obviously. And "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel. Which gives one pause to think of the myriad of ways a man can be obsessed by a woman, and what is she doing in bed to inspire that kind of obsession, and can she teach us? Because I want to know.”

“Whoa,” you were staring at a picture with Maeve’s face scribbled out.

“He went to town on that one. JJ, is that…” Garcia pointed at the black smudge. You quickly got out of your chair and went to find Spence. You handed him the picture.

“I don't get it. I mean, I see the message, ‘I'm obliterating you,’ but we already knew that,” he held the picture up and examined it.

“No, see, it's not about the message. It's about the medium, what he used to draw on her face. Spence... It's black eyeliner. The stalker's a woman. That's why she masked her voice on the phone. That's why Maeve let her into her loft. She thought what we thought, that her stalker was a man,” he grabbed the photo and rushed to Hotch’s office. You walked back to Garcia’s office. “Did you find anything with the lab assistants and doctorate students?” you asked Garcia as you entered. 

“Yeah, I have the list of them pulled up,” she switched to another tab on her computer.

“We can look through it once they give us more information,” you sat down next to her and put on a glove to start going through pictures again. Twenty minutes later, Hotch called and asked you to look into the girlfriend they’d met earlier. Garcia couldn’t find her anywhere. You were looking for Diane Huntington. “Garcia, cross check the name Diane with the research assistants list,” you said, flipping through the photos.

“There are none,” Garcia turned to you.

“How far back did you go?” you returned her gaze.

“Only the current ones.”

“Go back 5 years,” you stood up and went to stand next to her.

Garcia searched through the assistants for five minutes before finally finding her, “Diane Turner.”

You and Garcia quickly went to the conference room to present your findings. Hotch sent Rossi, Reid, and JJ to inspect her apartment. Morgan and Blake went to her office. When Reid came back he came back more distraught and was muttering something about needing a map of DC. He put the map onto the board, “This is Diane Turner's apartment. This is the nearest cell tower her phone call to me pinged off of, which means this is the circle that Maeve was telling me about.” 

“What circle?” Hotch asked. 

“It was a clue in Diane's message. Finding her would be as easy as pie. Only she wasn't referring to the food, she was referring to…” Reid wrote out the first 5 digits of pi.

“Pi,” Garcia breathed out. 

“Why would Diane give you a clue?” Hotch was still confused.

“Maeve made a similar pun once,” Reid sighed. “Now Diane wants me to see her the same way, but brilliant, the smartest girl in the room.”

“All right, assuming that Diane has a secondary location, where in the circle would she hold Maeve?” Hotch asked.

“She'd need a building that would allow for privacy and control, a closed garage for prisoner transfer…” Reid explained.

“If she's copying Maeve's life, it might be someplace close to Maeve's apartment,” Hotch guessed.

“There's nothing in Diane's name,” Garcia sighed. 

“Well, what about Maeve's name, or even Bobby's, maybe she forged his signature?” You added. 

Garcia typed on her computer,“Nope”  

“What about Diane's parents?” Reid was getting angrier and angrier.

“Yes. Yes. Diane rented a loft right next to Maeve's in her parents' name,” Reid grabbed his coat at Garcia’s name. 

“Reid. I can't let you be a part of this takedown,” Hotch stopped him.

We don't have a choice. If I don't go in there, Maeve is dead,” Reid pleaded.

“And if you do, you're dead,” Hotch explained.

“Hotch, we've known from the beginning she's on a murder-suicide mission, but we never stopped to ask why she's on that mission. We know now that it's because she wants recognition, the type of recognition she thinks Maeve gets, and I can give her that.”

“How?” Hotch sighed

“I'm gonna tell her that I love her,” Reid and Hotch walked away after that.

That was your breaking point. Reid told you that he didn’t love Maeve, but now it seems like he does. You stormed up the stairs and into Rossi’s office. You laid on the couch  and started to cry. He was hurting you and he didn’t even know it. Within minutes Rossi walked in and shut the door, “Shouldn’t you be with the team?” you wiped tears from your face and sat up.

“They have a whole SWAT team, they don’t need me,” He came and sat next to you. “What’s wrong.”

“The night JJ got married,” you said through sobs, “He told me he loved me. Every day after that, he told me he loved me.”

“He still does love you,” He let you put your head on his shoulder. “Do you know what transference is?”

“When someone is being helped, sometimes they fall in love with their rescuer,” you said as your tears ran dry.

“She helped him with his headaches, so he may have felt compelled to love her,” He explained.

“Do you have your com with you?” you asked.

“I do,” He pulled a walkie talkie out of his pocket and took the ear piece out so you both could listen. 

You couldn’t hear much of anything, until there was a gunshot, “Let’s go,” Hotch shouted.

“Stay back! Stay back! Stay back! Stay back, stay back!” Reid shouted. “Diane, Diane, there's still a way out of this.”

“You never wanted me. Never! You lied!” Diane shrieked 

“I didn't. Diane, I offered you a deal and you can still take it. Me for her. Let me take her place,” Reid pleaded. 

“You would do that?” Diane asked through tears. 

“Yes,” Reid said calmly. 

“You would kill yourself for her?”

“Yes,” Reid repeated.

“Thomas Merton,” Maeve said calmly. 

“Who's Thomas Merton?” Diane cried.

“He knows. He knows.” the woman said more desperately this time.

“Who's Thomas Merton? Who is he?” Diane cried. 

“He's the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve said confidently.

“No,” Diane was calm this time, too calm. There was another gunshot.

“Wait!” Reid screamed. 

You got up as quickly as possible, “We have to get over there Rossi,” you screamed as you ran out of the room. Rossi wasn’t far behind you. He drove the two of you to the loft Garcia and discovered. When you rushed in, everyone was staring at the two women in a pool of blood. Reid was crying on the ground. You ran over to him and hugged him. He needed you more than ever at this point. “Spence,” you whispered.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed into your shoulder.

“Don’t apologize.”

You two sat there for a while. Eventually, Hotch said that you two needed to leave so you helped Reid stand up and leave the building. You drove him home and helped him get into bed. Rossi called you and asked how he was. You had to tell him that he hadn’t talked for 12 hours. Later that day, Morgan called you. “Hey,” you whispered as you answered the phone.

“He still loves you,” Morgan assured you.

“Did you talk to Rossi?” you scoffed. 

You heard him chuckle, “I did. As Reid’s best friend and confidant, I am sure enough to tell you that he still loves you.”

“Thank you,” you hung up. You looked at the shell of a man lying in your boyfriend’s bed. You sighed and went to lay with him.