#decided to break this into tiny chapters like i originally thought

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Six.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Chapter Ten. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You finally start to appreciate the happiness that having a soulmate brings.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. so much fluff.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5k

Author's Note - the sixth installment!! thank you to everyone who voted in my poll - I listened, and decided to make this chapter as sweet as pie, because I think we all need it. it's nice to have a little break from the angst. just a liiiiittle break though. a tiny one. as always, thank you for all of your love and support and enthusiasm and patience and kindness towards this story. so much love for every one of you. <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

"Are you happy?"

You stretch your feet further into the sand and sit up, wiggling to get comfortable on the picnic blanket.

"That's a big question to start with."

Stella laughs and closes her notebook, deciding to take a different route than originally planned.

"I just mean... be honest with me. I'm not gonna be offended if you say no."

"Do you think I'm gonna say no?"

"Do you always have to answer my questions with questions?"

You tilt your head and watch her, smiling softly.

"I thought this was supposed to be an employee performance review."

"You're not my employee and you know it."

Both of you laugh, the sound whipped away by the sea breeze.

"Then what am I, Stella?" you chuckle.

"You're basically my partner. Come on, we've done all of this together. You helped me build this business from the ground up - I couldn't have done it without you."

You go to protest, so she continues.

"I think you should be. My partner, that is. Obviously there's logistics to work out, but it'd be fifty fifty. You and I, co-owners. It doesn't feel right to me that you're my 'employee'. I'm not your boss. We're equals."

Your mind is running a mile a minute, trying to process what Stella's asking of you. Being her business partner is an opportunity you know is rare and incredibly special - and it could potentially set you up for life - but you can't help but think about the fact it's a big commitment. About home. About Bucky.

"You don't have to answer me right now - I just want you to think about it. We always talked about opening up businesses of our own. I should have asked you to be my partner at the beginning, but honestly... I didn't know if you were gonna stick around. It kinda felt like you had one foot out the door when we started."

You take a deep breath, nodding.

"Yeah. I, uh - I think I did. Don't get me wrong, I was super excited, but the idea of moving away when I felt like I'd just got home was a lot to process. I'd just settled back there, and then I was gonna be packing up all of my stuff again and shipping myself across the country. "

"I didn't realise it was so tough for you, you know. I just assumed you wouldn't mind moving. I mean, you were always up for it, back at school."

"Things changed, after I graduated. I got home, and a couple of things happened and I guess it just... turned everything upside down. Home is different now. In a good way, I think."

"You're different now, too."

You look at her carefully, half attempting to read her mind.

"How do you mean?"

"You're... more grounded. More careful. You think through everything way more than you ever did. Almost like you've realised you're not invincible anymore."

There's a feeling, when you're young, that you're indestructible. Unharmable. Broken bones mend, cuts and bruises heal, hearts and minds forget about their aches if you give them long enough.

Then one day, that feeling is gone. And you realise that you're mortal - made of flesh and blood and bones that will one day be returned to the Earth, whether you like it or not.

Meeting your soulmate is like having that realisation again, but bigger. Again, and again, and again. You don't live for yourself, anymore. You live for them. The pain they'd feel if they lost you is unfathomable, completely unimaginable.

So you become more careful. Less reckless. You drive a little slower, take things a little easier, quit your dangerous hobbies and unhealthy habits. You need to be alive for as long as possible. And you know your soulmate will do the same.

That's how you can tell a Tethered person from an Untethered one. Ask two people to go skydiving with you, and the Tethered one will tell you no. They can't risk it. It's not worth it.

Stella's right. You have realised you're not invincible anymore. You're a little more cautious when you climb ladders, you don't balance precariously on the kitchen counters anymore. You look twice when you cross the street, and don't risk it if there's a car coming and you could maybe get across.

You're also painfully aware that Bucky's older than you. He'll be turning forty in less than two years. Sure, he's not ancient, but it does mean you'll have less time together than Lacie will with Cameron, for example. And that hard truth makes you live a little less recklessly, every single day.

"I guess I just... grew up."

You're honestly not sure why you don't just tell Stella about Bucky. You know she'd understand. But there's a part of you that feels protective over what you have - territorial, even. Your Tethering is sacred, almost, and you feel the primal urge to guard it with your life. To lock it in a box and keep it away from anything that could harm it. The less people that know, the less damage that can be done. Maybe.

"I did too. The world is kinda scary now we're not in that little culinary school bubble, huh?"

"Yeah," you laugh. "We thought that was hard. Little did we know."

"Take your time, thinking about my offer. But just know that I really, really appreciate the fact that you're here. That you believed in me enough to move across the country. It means a lot."

"Of course," you say, reaching across to grab her hand. "I always believed in you, Stella. I always knew you'd do something great."

"We'd."

"Hmm?"

"We'd do something great. The two of us. Together."

"I always knew that we'd do something great," you correct.

You're starting to believe that, as time goes on. You were born to do this. You deserve to live your dreams.

Let the happiness seep through, you'd told yourself.

It finally feels like it is.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"There's a guy here to see you."

Isabel pops her head around the door, grinning at you like she knows something you don't.

"Again?"

She nods, giggling.

"Let me guess... he's hot, tall, brown hair?"

"Bingo."

"Thanks, Isa. I'll be right out. Is it busy out there?"

"It's quieter than it was. There was a pastry rush this morning, but we're good now."

You laugh and hang up your apron, washing your hands quickly before making your way to the café.

You feel like you're having déjà vu, this situation oddly familiar.

Just like Isa said, he's stood waiting with his back to you, broad shoulders filling out his powder blue short sleeve button up.

You're excited to see Rafael again. You've been trying a new cookie recipe for his sister, and you're eager to get him to try it. You're mentally making a note to buy a nice box to put them in when you feel it.

The lights get a little brighter, the colours a little more vibrant. The tightness in your chest eases, allowing you to take a full, deep breath. You can suddenly hear the birds outside singing, melodies drifting through the open doors like a summer breeze.

The man turns around, and it's not Rafael.

It's Bucky.

You're moving before you can even process it, running and jumping into his arms. You inhale, revelling in his familiar scent. He's here. Your happiness has arrived.

"Surprise," he laughs quietly into your ear. "Miss me, honey girl?"

You beam a grin at him, pulling away to look at his handsome face.

"More than you'll ever know."

"Oh, I know. I feel it."

He places a hand over his heart gently, looking at you with pure adoration.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's been a month since your Mom's birthday. A month since I've seen your pretty face. A month too long."

You roll your eyes jokingly, so he continues.

"You don't mind that I'm here, do you? Because I'll go, if it's too much for you. I know me showing up unannounced is a lot to process."

"Don't go," you reply quickly, grabbing his hand. "I want you here, Buck. More than anything."

He leans in and presses his lips to yours, cradling your face in his warm hands. The background of the café melts away, the man in front of you the only thing that matters.

You pull away and smile at him, pressing your forehead into his gently.

"Come back to the kitchen with me. Let's get away from all the noise."

You grab his hand and pull him with you, ignoring the excited giggling from Isabel behind the counter.

Bucky perches against a counter, leaning back to allow you to stand in between his legs. You wrap your arms around his neck and peck his lips, stealing kisses in between giddy smiles.

"I hope you weren't expecting a day full of super exciting adventures. I've got a list full of stuff I've got to get finished by closing."

"Honey, I'm more than content to stay here and watch you work. There's nothing I love more than watching you bake."

You run your fingertips over his face carefully, gently tracing his features as you look at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I don't care what we do, as long as we're together."

You wrap your arms around his middle, holding him as tightly as you can.

"I feel like I hit the soulmate jackpot," you whisper.

"No one's as lucky as I am," he whispers back. "Now, come on. Let me see you work your magic."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky, it turns out, makes a damn good assistant.

Instead of just watching, he volunteers to help in whatever way he can. You set him onto weighing your ingredients, so you can focus on making and decorating. He takes his job very seriously, measuring down to the precise gram each time. You can't help but grin as you watch him concentrate, determined to get it right.

At lunch time, Isabel brings you both coffee and sandwiches, entering just as you're teaching Bucky how to properly fold in ingredients.

"Sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"You could never. Isa, this is Bucky. Buck, this is Isabel. Our best waitress."

He holds out his floury hand for her to shake.

"It's nice to meet you, Isabel. I've heard a lot about you."

"You have?"

Her eyes light up as she looks at you, fighting the smile off her face.

"My honey talks about you all the time."

Isabel glances between the two of you, clearly trying to figure things out.

"And you two are..."

"Soulmates," you say at the same time as Bucky does.

Her jaw drops for a moment, before she laughs.

"Yeah. That makes a lot of sense, actually."

You roll your eyes at her lovingly before Stella's voice calls her name from out front.

"I better go. But me and you are gonna talk about this later."

"Fine," you laugh.

"Nice to meet you!" Bucky shouts after her, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I like that we're just telling people now."

"Yeah, me too, actually. I thought it'd be scary, but... it feels right."

He slings an arm around your middle, pulling you into his side.

"We've still got the two most important people left to tell."

Your muscles tense and Bucky feels it instantly, running his thumb in patterns over your hip gently.

"I've been thinking about it a lot. I'm almost ready, Buck. We can't avoid it forever. Next time I'm home, I think we should do it. We should tell them."

Bucky hooks two fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Are you sure? Once we tell them, we can't undo it. We'll only do it if you're one hundred percent sure."

"I'll be ready when the time comes. It'll be a huge weight off of both of our shoulders, which I think we both need."

"Okay then," he says, kissing your forehead. "Next time you're home."

Isabel clears her throat from the doorway, smiling sheepishly.

"I can't believe I'm saying this again, but... there's a guy here to see you."

You laugh, untangling yourself from Bucky with a kiss to his cheek.

"Send him through. Thanks, Isa."

The man you were originally expecting to see this morning walks into the kitchen, envelopes in his hand.

"Hey!"

"Hey, Rafael."

He gives you a quick hug, before waving at Bucky.

"Hey, man. You've gotta be the soulmate, right?"

Bucky chuckles, coming over to shake Raf's hand.

"Yeah, that's me. How'd you know?"

"Are you kidding? You can feel it the minute you walk into the room. There's like, electricity in here."

You laugh, hiking yourself up to sit on the counter. Bucky stands next to you, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Here," Rafael says, handing you an envelope. "We're having a gala next month, for the charity that has supported my sister. We'd love it if you could come - and bring your date too, of course."

"I'd love to," you say as you read the invitation. "Do you need me to bring anything? You know I'll happily make something, if you guys need it."

"You would?"

"Absolutely! I could bring a cake, if you like? I haven't done a proper, three tiered cake in forever. I'd love to."

"That'd be... amazing. Seriously. We just want to raise as much money as possible."

"Of course. Thanks for these, Raf. How is she?"

"She's okay. She's getting a tiny bit stronger every day, and that's all we can really ask for."

You reach a hand out to squeeze his in support.

"You know where I am if you need anything."

"Of course. Thank you, so much. I've gotta run - I've got like a hundred of these invites to deliver. But I'll see you at the weekend?"

"For sure. See you, Raf!"

"Nice to meet you, Bucky."

"You too, man. Take care."

Isa shows Rafael out of the door, winking at you on her way out.

"Damn, he's handsome," Bucky laughs.

"Isn't he?" you giggle. "Nothing on my soulmate though, I'm afraid."

"Shut up," he blushes, leaning in to capture your lips. "You wanna get dinner when you're done here?"

"Yes, please. I'll show you around my new apartment too."

"Can't wait."

There's not an ounce of tension in your muscles as you finish up your bakes for the day, gliding around the kitchen while Bucky stands and watches your every move.

If you could pause time, this would be when you'd do it. You'd be content to live in this moment forever.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The minute Bucky walks through your front door, he inhales deeply. The entire place smells like you, cosy and golden.

"You like it?"

"It's gorgeous, baby. I love the windows."

He makes his way over to your kitchen, where the glass panes run from floor to ceiling. Sitting on the bench pressed against it, he takes in the view, savouring the feeling of the sun on his face.

You sit down on his lap, draping your legs over him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Nuzzling your face into his jaw, you press a kiss to the stubble, resisting the urge to lick the salt off of his skin.

"Come on," you murmur. "Let me show you my bedroom. The sun sets in that direction, so it's always beautiful in there."

You grab his hand and walk him across the apartment, swinging open the door to your room and pushing him inside.

He takes in the space for a moment before turning in your direction, striding over to smash his lips to yours. You tangle your fingers into his shirt and pull him closer, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth with ease.

Bucky leans in to trail kisses down your neck as he slips your shirt over your head, making quick work of unclasping your bra with skilled fingers. He grasps your chest in both hands, massaging gently as he nips at your throat.

"So fucking pretty," he murmurs. "Haven't stopped thinking about you since you left me."

You whine and unbutton his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders. You're desperate to see more, desperate to feel his skin on yours, desperate to bare every inch of him.

Your fingers make deft work of his belt, sliding it from its loops and throwing it to the ground. You unpop his button and slide down the zipper, pulling his jeans off his legs in no time. You shimmy out of your skirt, leaving you both in your underwear.

The evening sun seeps through the window panes, illuminating the room in hues of orange and gold. The light hits Bucky's skin, making him glow in a halo of love and adoration.

He walks you backwards, wrapping an arm around your back to throw you onto the white sheets of your bed. Crawling over you, he settles in between your legs, pressing gentle kisses from your ankles to your inner thighs.

"The way you look when you come has been burned in my mind," he whispers. "Need to see it again. It's been too long."

He slides your underwear down your legs and wastes no time, diving into you like a man starved. He devours you, tongue never ceasing it's movements. His hands pry your thighs apart, one arm thrown over your stomach to keep you still. When your muscles start to shake, Bucky doubles down on his efforts, lapping and sucking at you like you're his lifesource.

"Oh, Buck, I'm-"

You see stars as you come, white and silver shapes flying through your vision. Bucky never stops, prolonging your release for as long as he can. When you go boneless, he ceases, pressing kisses to the inside of your knee.

"You okay?" he murmurs, moving so his body smothers yours.

"I'm good," you smile, leaning up to kiss him. You groan when you taste yourself, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Need you, baby. Please, Buck."

"You sure?"

You smile at him, cradling his face in your hands.

"Couldn't be surer."

He dips down to lick into your mouth once more, shucking his boxers off and throwing them across the room. Slipping a condom on, he lines himself up, eyes meeting yours.

"I need you more than I need air to breathe," he murmurs. "You know that, don't you?"

"Buck," you breathe. "I've been going crazy here without you."

He goes to speak, but stops himself, instead leaning down to kiss your forehead.

"I know," you whisper. "I know."

Bucky slides home in one smooth thrust, both of you gasping. One of his hands finds your hip, the other resting against your throat as an anchor. You wrap your legs around his waist, arms snaking around his shoulders.

"Fuck me, please."

"Fuck," he groans. "I'll be replaying that in my head forever."

You chuckle breathlessly, gasping when he draws his hips back and forward again. He sets an even pace - not too fast, not too slow. He has you right where he wants you, both of your bodies in perfect synchronisity. It feels like the stars have aligned. Everything's fallen into place.

Bucky dances his fingers from your hip to your clit, rubbing firm circles. He plays you like a violin, your muscles tensing as you get closer.

"That's it, pretty girl. Fuck, you're so good for me. You close, honey? Gonna come for me again?"

You nod frantically as he picks up his pace, hips colliding with yours. He groans as you tighten around him, head dropping to rest against yours.

"Come for me, honey girl," he whispers. "Please."

Your back arches as you find your release, nails scratching at the skin of Bucky's back. The pain tips him over the edge, spilling inside of you with a deep groan. He collapses on top of you, both of your chests heaving.

"I think we're naturals at that," you chuckle hoarsely.

"You think it's the soulmate thing, or are we just that good?"

"I think we're just that good," you laugh, pushing him off your body so he lands next to you. You link your fingers with his, resting your head on his chest.

"I need a drink."

"I was just thinking that, actually. You wanna go out? Know anywhere?"

"There's a cute little bar that looks out over the cove - it has good food and good cocktails. You wanna go there?"

"I'd go anywhere with you," he affirms, pressing a kiss into your hair.

"I'd kill for a pineapple margarita right now."

Bucky sits up suddenly, bringing you with him, arms wrapped around you.

"Then let's go get my girl a pineapple margarita."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The golden lights adorn the beams of wood above your head, the deck illuminated in the gentle glow. The ocean waves break the shore in a comfortingly repetitive motion, a calming soundtrack to the evening. You sit across from Bucky at your table for two, the sunset casting orange hues across the horizon.

"It's beautiful out here."

"Yeah," you agree, smiling. "The view is pretty good."

Your eyes haven't left his, lost in the sea blue of his irises. He chuckles, running his thumb over the back of your hand where it rests atop the table.

"This is our first date, you know."

"Really?"

"I mean, we've been 'dating' this whole time - but we've never gone out and had dinner like this. Held hands and all."

"You're right. Our first date of many, huh?"

"Our first of countless," he grins, brushing his lips over your knuckles in a gentle kiss.

"Where do my parents think you are?"

"Visiting a cousin in Nevada."

You laugh, and the sound makes Bucky light up, electricity running through his veins.

"You're a scarily good liar."

"To everyone but you."

"I used to think I was a good liar. Until I met you, that is."

Just as he's about to respond, your waitress appears, two pineapple margaritas in hand. She takes your orders and leaves, smiling at you.

"Oh, shit. She forgot to give us straws. I'm gonna grab some - be right back."

You chase her inside, tapping her shoulder gently.

"Excuse me - could I get a couple of straws, please?"

"Of course. Sorry!" she apologises, handing them to you.

"Thank you! Your shirt is so cute, by the way."

"Thanks - it's thrifted! You're gorgeous, girl. And your boyfriend is stupidly hot too. You're a pretty couple."

You thank her and laugh, returning to Bucky with a grin on your face.

"What's got you smiling?"

"The waitress called you my boyfriend."

"Huh. As much as I love the commitment... boyfriend kinda sounds like we're in ninth grade, doesn't it?"

You throw your head back, laughing with your entire being.

"That's what I thought. There's gotta be a better word. Partner? No, that makes us sound forty."

"I am almost forty."

"Oops."

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he can't wipe the blinding grin from his face. He takes out his phone and snaps a quick picture of you, admiring the way the breeze caresses your face as the setting sun beats down.

"Sneaky," you tease. "Let me see?"

He hands you the phone, letting you look through. You swipe right one too many times, and accidentally land on a picture of a blueprint laid out across a kitchen counter. His kitchen counter.

"Babe... what's this?"

You don't miss the way Bucky's cheeks heat up, blush creeping across his chest that's exposed by the V neckline of his blue button up. He stutters for a moment, before finding his footing.

"They're blueprints. Plans for a house."

"A house?"

"I want to build a house."

When you keep looking at him softly, he doubles down.

"I want to build a house for us."

Your breath hitches in your chest, the world going silent momentarily.

"You... you do?"

"My Dad worked in construction my entire childhood. I watched him build houses, apartment buildings, bungalows... everything. I've always wanted to do it, but never had reason to. Until now."

You squeeze his hand, urging him to continue.

"I've been planning it for upwards of ten years. But I'm taking it more seriously, now. Those blueprints are the final ones. It's all mapped out, down to the square inch. I've made some modifications for you, obviously."

He zooms in on the picture, pointing out areas on the plans.

"I've added a big island in the kitchen with a tonne of storage in it, for all of your supplies. I know you have that huge mixer, so I've made sure there's enough space for it to fit underneath with the doors closed."

You take a deep breath, lump in your throat forming unwillingly.

"Up here, there's a window at the top of the stairs. I've added a sketch of a bench which I'll upholster, so you can sit and read in the sunlight."

Tangling your legs with his under the table, you urge him to continue.

"I've also made sure there's a balcony off the master bedroom that overlooks the garden. I know how much you love sitting on yours in your apartment at home. There's probably like a hundred more little modifications for you, but those are just a few."

Tears are running down your cheeks freely, emotion escaping you like a flash flood.

"Bucky..."

"If it's too much too soon, please tell me. I won't be offended, baby. I know it's a lot."

"It's perfect."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You jump up from your seat and around the table, throwing yourself into his lap to kiss him happily.

"I can't wait to build a house with you, Buck."

He grins at you, joy radiating off him in waves.

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

He blinks back tears for a second, processing the words he's been waiting to hear for what feels like an eternity.

"I love you too, honey girl. My pretty baby."

He leans in to kiss you tenderly, the rest of the world melting away. It feels like it's just the two of you, floating on cloud nine.

Suddenly, you get it. You understand why people say this is the greatest thing that'll ever happen.

It is. They were right all along.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

After several pineapple flavoured cocktails and a taco or four, you and Bucky take a slow stroll home, hand in hand along the sidewalk.

"You wanna have a sleepover tonight?" you ask, digging your heels into the ground to stop yourself from skipping with glee.

"Can't think of anything I want more," he chuckles.

You walk a little while longer, content to bask in the comfortable silence.

"Guess what happened a few days ago."

"What, honey?"

"Stella asked me to be her business partner."

He stops where he is, turning to face you but never letting go of your hand.

"Wait, really?"

"Mhmmm."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"I was unsure, at first. But I'm going to do it. I've been thinking about this for a while, actually. We had to take a business class in culinary school, and I actually learned a lot. I've had a business plan for the future of the café drafted up for months. Numbers, locations, investors, everything. I'm really serious about this, you know."

He's gazing at you like you hung the moon, eyes bright and adoring.

You sit down on a bench, looking out over the coastal path. Bucky joins you, arm heavy over your shoulders.

"I can't stay here."

His head whips around.

"Baby..."

"I mean it, Buck. I like this city, I do, but I just can't settle. It feels like a placeholder until I can go home. And it's not fair to Stella, if it feels like I'm half in half out."

He goes to speak, but you're on a roll.

"I'm suggesting that we franchise the business. It's the logical next step anyway, it was just a matter of choosing the right location. I'm proposing somewhere a hell of a lot closer to home. To you. To my parents. And that means we'll have one branch on the east coast, and one on the west. We can start filling the middle, in the future."

"Are you... are you sure?"

"I've never been surer of anything, James Buchanan Barnes. I wanna start my life with you. Telling my parents, building a house, furthering my career. I'm ready, now."

Bucky grabs your face in his warm hands, kissing you with more passion than you ever thought possible. It's all the answer you need.

"I want you to read over my plan, when we get back to my place. But it's tight, Buck. I've been perfecting it for months. There's no way Stella can say no - I've made it so she won't want to. Besides, she just wants me to be happy. And this... this will make me happy. Happy beyond words."

Bucky stands up, wrapping his arms around your middle to bring you with him. He spins you around, laughing when you squeal in surprise.

"I'm so proud of you, honey baby. I love you so much."

"I love you," you grin. "More than I ever thought possible."

Bucky practically carries you home, both of you giddy on excitement and hope.

You wake up tangled in his arms, sunlight beaming down onto your skin through the open window. Happiness, you think. It's finally here.

Happiness. It's finally here.

tag list part one -

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[isa-beenme]

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight

Sooo... Who could guess I am a big hater of how SJM made all of Rhysand's effort to change his Court, useless? 😁😁😁😁

Here we also dive a tiny bit into the past of miss gurl let's hug her collectively

Warnings: Use of Y/N, ACOTAR rewrite, female main character, 2% book following I'm destroying the original story atp, mentions of PTSD, mommy issues, daddy issues, lots of trauma, mentions of war, Rhysand 😚

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight - Masterlist

Chapter 10: Cold

A few weeks had passed when the Night Court finally sprang their trap. Azriel’s network had been flawless, and Lucien’s deception had worked perfectly. Tamlin’s forces, along with a significant number of Hybern’s soldiers, had walked straight into the ambush.

The battle had been quick. The Illyrians overpowered them with precision, and before Hybern even realized what was happening, their troops were bound in magic-dampening chains, kneeling before the Night Court’s generals.

Tamlin’s soldiers had cracked easily. Cowards, the lot of them. They’d spilled everything they knew. From Hybern’s plans to their next movements, even details about where the rest of Hybern’s forces were hiding. Hybern’s soldiers, however, had been harder to break. They were loyal. But not unbreakable.

You were still absorbing the news when Rhys brought you to the interrogation chambers. You expected Azriel to be inside, coaxing the truth out of them in his cold, merciless way. The way the rumors had been tailored for him around the Continent. But instead, you were met with a sight that startled you: Azriel standing in the corner, silent, unmoving, while two other spies worked in his place.

You frowned as you stepped closer to Rhys. “Azriel isn’t doing it?”

Rhys crossed his arms, his violet eyes scanning the room. “No. I didn’t want him to.”

You glanced back at the spymaster. He was listening, his shadows curling around him like a second skin, but he wasn’t the one delivering the pain.

Rhys sighed. “Azriel has done more than enough in his life. The things my father made him do…” His jaw clenched. “He doesn’t need to relive those memories. So, many decades ago, he trained a small group of trusted individuals to handle the worst of it. They are mostly from the Hewncity, they like what they do. Azriel only steps in when he wants to. Mostly when it’s personal.”

You blinked, processing that. “So, all this time… I thought Azriel was still the one—”

“He listens,” Rhys cut in. “He gathers the information, watches through the shadows. But he doesn’t have to be the one with the blade in his hand anymore. Unless he chooses to. We decided to let this information out for… you know, reputation and the likes of it. It's easier to fear only one person and not expect more.”

Your throat tightened. The idea of Azriel being forced into that life again, forced to become the weapon Rhysand's father had trained him to be… You were grateful. Grateful Rhys had made sure he never had to relive that unless he wanted to.

Rhys must have noticed the shift in your expression because he reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “Come,” he murmured, “let’s get some air.”

☆

He winnowed you to a quiet clearing in the forest, far from the war camps, far from the screams echoing in the underground chambers. A picnic had already been set up. Rhys must have planned this beforehand.

He sprawled onto the blanket, arms behind his head, watching you as you settled beside him. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The sounds of the forest surrounded you, birds chirping, leaves rustling in the breeze.

Then, softly, you asked, “What other changes have you made?”

Rhys turned his head, his violet eyes locking onto yours. “You mean besides making sure I don't become my father?”

You nodded. “You’ve been High Lord centuries, Rhys. And I know you’ve changed things, especially reading all the reports we've been receiving the past months. But I want to hear it from you.”

His gaze softened. He reached for your hand again, threading his fingers through yours. “Alright,” he murmured. “I’ll tell you.”

As the evening sky stretched into twilight, the peaceful sounds of the forest surrounding you and Rhys settled into a comfortable rhythm. Rhys' eyes stayed on you as you relaxed beside him, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

“I’ve been High Lord for over three centuries, and in all that time, I’ve tried to push for changes that matter. The end of wing clipping was one of the first steps, but it wasn’t easy. Some of the old males that used to do the clippings are still alive, so it's harder to convince the newer generation that they're wrong. Some still hold onto that hateful tradition, the belief that clipping female wings makes them.more obedient. But I’m hunting them down. Slowly, but surely, those who do it for pride are being removed from positions of power.”

You squeezed his hand in acknowledgment, and he continued, his voice steady, thoughtful. “As for the warriors... I've made it clear that every male and female has a choice. No one is required to fight if they don’t want to. Of course, most of the males still take pride in their warrior status, but the decision is theirs. And now the females have the same freedom.” His gaze softened as he looked at you. “It's important for everyone to know that their worth isn’t tied to what others expect them to be. You’ve seen it with Feyre. She didn’t have to fight, but she chose to. I want everyone to have the same choice. Even if that means changing centuries of tradition.”

You nodded, appreciating the way he spoke with such conviction and care. “I’ve seen that in action already,” you said softly. “I've received letters from the commander of the female division. The fact that she's able to learn and decide for herself… it’s really different from how things were before.”

Rhys smiled, leaning back on his elbows, stretching his legs out in front of him. “And there’s still more to come. Every war camp is getting more investment, more resources, but they have to follow the rules. If they don’t, they lose it. This is how we’ll ensure we keep some semblance of order in place when everything is so chaotic. Plus, we’ve been working on mapping fatherless and motherless children. Cassian’s past doesn't need to be repeated, most of those kids don't have the same strength or luck. We can’t let them grow up without guidance, without structure. The future depends on how we raise these kids.”

His words were a weight, a reminder of the trials and tribulations he’d faced over the centuries and the legacy he was trying to build for the future. You could feel the love and hope in his tone as he spoke of the children.

“And what about the Court of Nightmares?” you asked, the mention of it bringing a slight frown to his face. You’d notice the changes there based on how polite Keir tried to be in his reports, the subtle shift in how things were being run.

“That’s a more complicated matter,” Rhys said quietly. “The Court of Nightmares... it’s still a dark place, but it’s not the nightmare it once was. Yes, there are still terrible people there, but there are also many good ones, merchants, artisans, people who have nothing to do with the cruelty of the court’s history. Those people are protected, but the ones who still live in the shadows, pulling the strings of violence, they know the rules. They lock their games inside the mountain and leave everyone else out of it. Let them play their games as long as they stay there. We play along, obviously. They know we are not the cruel crazy people they see there, but at this point I think they just enjoy the show. They think they are degrading me but the whole act turned out fun for me too.” His jaw tightened as he spoke, but his voice was calm. “The important part is that we’ve made it clear. If someone crosses the line, it’s dealt with. There’s no tolerance for cruelty against innocents anymore.”

You thought for a moment before speaking again. “Velaris, though... it’s completely different. When did you open it for the rest of the Court?”

Rhys' smile returned, more fond now. “Velaris is a city that represents everything we’re working toward. Open, free, thriving. It’s only open for the Night Court citizens right now, but we’re slowly working to integrate it with the rest of Prythian one day. We trade with every city, every faction, bringing in the resources we need and giving out what they want. It’s not perfect yet, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

You could see the pride in his eyes when he spoke of the city. “There’s still a lot to do, of course,” he continued, “but I’ve tried to do my best. To change things where I can. It will take time, but I believe we’ll get there. And it helps to have you by my side. To know that you’ll be here with me as I keep pushing forward. And also, a few Lords were getting mad at me for not having a wife and ensuring heirs. I guess that's a problem I can solve in a few years too.”

You breathed out a laugh but didn't deny him. You met his gaze, the sincerity in his voice settling deep within you. The weight of his words, the burden he carried for centuries, was something you understood now more than ever. You reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead as your fingers lingered on his skin.

“You’ve done more than enough, Rhys. And I’m here, always,” you whispered softly, your heart swelling with a pride that mirrored his own.

Rhys’ eyes softened as he stared at you, a smile curving on his lips. “I know. And that’s what keeps me going.”

The sun had set, casting long shadows over the blanket as the quiet of the forest embraced the two of you in peaceful contentment. You leaned into his side, letting the stillness of the moment wash over you, grateful for the changes that were being made, for the future that was being shaped, and for the love that had flourished amidst the chaos.

Rhys’ expression softened as he looked at you, his violet eyes searching yours with a mixture of curiosity and concern. The two of you had been sitting in silence for a while, the peacefulness of the moment lulling both of you into a comfortable quiet. But then he spoke, his voice gentle and earnest.

"Tell me about your childhood," he asked. "What was it like for you, before all of this?"

For a moment, you hesitated, the memories rising like a tide, bringing with them a heaviness you didn’t always like to face. But Rhys’ steady gaze gave you a sense of safety, a quiet encouragement to speak your truth.

You let out a breath, looking at the few stars above, feeling their stillness against the turbulence inside. "It was... hard," you said finally, your voice low. "My mother... she was a very dictatorial person. She had this vision of who I was supposed to be, who I had to become. Sometimes, it bordered on cruelty."

Rhys’ brow furrowed, but he said nothing, just letting you continue.

"She hated that I was half-blood," you said, the words bitter in your mouth. "She made sure I knew that every single day. It wasn’t just that I wasn’t pure fae, it was like she couldn’t stand the reminder of what I was. My father’s blood in me was something she despised, and she would say terrible things... about how she wished my father had never made her pregnant, that I was a burden she didn’t want, that I was ‘the mistake’ she’d never planned for."

You swallowed thickly, pushing down the emotions that tried to rise. Rhys was still listening intently, his expression both pained and supportive, urging you to go on.

"She tried to 'fix' me," you said softly, the word ‘fix’ carrying all the coldness it had been intended with. "She wanted me to be perfect for whatever purpose she saw fit. Training me in everything. Music, art, history, fighting, hunting, speaking… everything. I had to be the best at all of it, at everything. She wanted me to be some sort of weapon. A perfect, molded piece to be used for war, politics, balls, anywhere I could be useful... but never to be anything for myself. She wanted me to disappear into the shadows of existence, to never be seen for who I truly was. She never wanted me to be just a half-blood, just an accessory to whatever plan the world had for me. No… she prepared me to not be overpowered but, at the same time, not grab the spotlight."

You fell silent, the weight of the memories threatening to choke you. Rhys reached for your hand, his grip firm but gentle, the touch grounding. His voice was steady when he spoke again.

"You had to carry all of... all of those expectations and cruelties?" he asked softly, his voice filled with disbelief, as though he couldn't quite imagine the depth of what you’d endured.

You nodded slowly, the ache in your chest growing heavier as the words spilled out, as if they had been waiting to be spoken for far too long.

"I was never allowed to be myself. I had to be everything for someone else, never for me. I was trained to be a tool, something to be used in whatever way would serve her... and when I wasn’t perfect, when I didn’t meet the impossible standards she set, she’d remind me of how worthless I was. A mistake. A half-blood." You shook your head, the frustration from years of it building in your chest. "I never knew who I was meant to be, only what I was supposed to do."

Rhys was quiet for a moment, the weight of your words settling between the two of you. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet but firm, tinged with an anger you knew he held for anyone who had treated you that way.

"That’s not who you are," he said, his tone resolute. "You are not a tool. You are not a weapon for someone else’s cause. You're more than all of that. You always have been."

You met his eyes, feeling his sincerity wash over you like a balm. A small part of you, a part that had long tried to be buried, wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that there was more to you than what you'd been trained to be.

"Sometimes I don’t know who I am," you whispered. "Not really."

Rhys’ expression softened, and he leaned closer, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. "Then let me help you find out," he said, his voice gentle but insistent. "You don’t have to be anything for anyone anymore. You can be whatever you choose, whoever you want to be. I’ll help you figure that out, one step at a time."

The sincerity in his voice struck deep. For the first time, the idea of being more than what had been drilled into you began to feel possible, like a faint but steady light in the darkness.

"I’ve seen what you’re capable of," he continued. "Not because you were molded into it, but because you are already so much more than what anyone has ever told you. You are strong. You are smart. You have a heart that is bigger than most. A human heart."

You held his gaze, the walls around your heart finally beginning to crack, just a little. For the first time, it didn’t feel like you had to hide, or be perfect, or be something you weren’t.

"I just want you to be happy," Rhys said, his voice soft now, as he placed his hand on yours. "And I want you to know that you don’t have to be anything for anyone ever again. You only need to be you."

You squeezed his hand, feeling the weight of his words, the warmth of his promise. You could feel the quiet relief spreading through you as the weight of your past began to shift, if only just a little.

"I’ll try," you said softly, the first glimmer of hope beginning to take root.

Rhys smiled, his gaze never leaving yours, his fingers brushing over your knuckles in a tender gesture. "That’s all I ask. You don’t have to have it all figured out. But I’m here, and I always will be."

In that moment, with the stars above and the night stretching around you, the weight of your past seemed a little less heavy. Maybe, just maybe, you could start to carve out a future that was all your own.

As the words about your mother lingered in the air, the complexity of your feelings weighed heavily on you. You exhaled softly, a faint sadness in your eyes, as you looked at Rhys. "She was cruel, yes. But at the same time... I think she always wanted what was best for me, in her own twisted way. She pushed me hard, sometimes in ways that made me feel small, but I know she believed it was for my own good. She wanted me to be perfect, to be everything, so the others wouldn't have a reason to put me down because of my blood. In a strange, broken way, she cared for me."

Rhys' gaze softened, his expression understanding. "I can relate," he said quietly, the pain in his voice evident. "My father... he was cruel too. But in the end, he thought he was doing what was best for me. It didn’t excuse the way he treated me, but it made me understand, in a weird way, why he did what he did."

You nodded, the sorrow mingling with a strange sense of understanding. "I grieved for her, you know? Despite everything. I loved her, even if she was everything I feared and resented. Losing her... it was hard."

Rhys reached out, his hand gently brushing against your cheek. "I understand. It’s complicated, but that’s what family is, isn’t it? It’s love and pain all wrapped up together."

A sudden thought made you smile, and you leaned in closer to him, brushing your lips against his cheek softly. You wanted to show him, in your own way, that everything he had done, everything he was, meant something to you. "One kiss," you whispered softly, as your lips brushed against his cheek. "For every little thing you’ve changed in me. For every way you’ve made me feel seen."

His eyes softened, and he let you continue, not speaking but understanding your intent. You kissed his forehead, your lips lingering there a moment longer. "For every way you’ve made me feel heard, even when I was lost in my own pain."

You trailed a kiss to his lips, gentle at first, a simple brush of affection. "For making me believe I could have a future," you whispered against his lips, before moving down to his neck, pressing another soft kiss there. "For making me feel safe when the world has always felt so dangerous."

Your hands reached to his chest, brushing against the fabric of his clothes before planting a kiss over his heart. "For showing me that I can trust again, that I don’t have to hide who I am." You moved to his ear next, your lips tracing its edge. "For being patient with me, and showing me that my heart has worth."

Finally, your lips touched his hand, your kiss delicate and full of admiration. "For everything you’ve done for this world, for your people, for the ones you love. For proving that it’s never too late to change and to fix things."

Rhys watched you with a soft smile, his eyes dark with emotion. And then, as if drawn by the same desire, he began to kiss you back, his lips pressing gently against every part of your body that he could reach. He kissed your cheek, your forehead, your lips, your neck, and every place where he had witnessed the strength of your spirit, places where you had shown him who you really were, free from expectations and from the past.

His voice was low, almost a growl, as he whispered against your skin. "One kiss for every part of you that refuses to let the world break you. For every time you chose to be yourself, no matter the pain."

The warmth of his touch, the softness of his words, and the tenderness of his kisses filled you with an overwhelming sense of connection, like something deep inside of you was finally being healed.

Eventually, the two of you broke apart, both needing to breathe, though you remained close. Rhys chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair as he looked down at you. "You know," he said, his voice filled with affection, "we’ve spent so much time kissing that we’ve forgotten about food."

You laughed, a sound that felt foreign and free coming from you. "I suppose so," you said with a teasing smile. "But I think I could go without it for a while."

Rhys shook his head with a smirk, pulling the food toward you both. You sat back, letting the laughter linger between you before the conversation shifted to more mundane matters. But even as you ate, you were keenly aware of the intimacy that had passed between you.

And as you sat together, sharing a meal, there was one unspoken rule you both knew you had to honor. Neither of you passed food to the other, there was no accidental sharing that might ignite the bond between you too soon. You both knew that the moment would come when you were ready to accept it, to claim it fully, but not yet.

For now, it was enough to simply be in each other's presence, to share small, beautiful moments that built a foundation for something even deeper. And that, for the time being, was all you needed.

☆

Cassian had returned from Illyria a few days ago, vibrating with excitement, even if the situation wasn't the best. Rhys had told you Cassian always came back from the camps with his energy renowned. The moment he stepped into the training ring where you and Rhys were lounging, his sharp gaze landed on you. He walked with his usual swagger, but there was something else in his expression, a certain hint of curiosity.

"So," he drawled, arms crossed over his chest. "I hear you’ve been trained. Ever fought before?"

You raised a brow, amused. "I have."

Cassian smirked. "Then I think it’s time for a test."

Rhys chuckled beside you. "Cassian, I don’t think she needs to prove—"

But Cassian ignored him, already stretching out his arms, rolling his shoulders. "Come on, sweetheart. I just wanna see where you're at. We’ll keep it simple. Just me and you."

You stood, stretching a little, rolling out your wrists. "Fine."

Azriel, who had been quietly observing, leaned against the railing of the training ring, his shadows curling around him. "This should be interesting."

Cassian grinned, twirling a practice sword between his fingers before tossing one your way. You caught it easily, spinning it once in your grip.

"Alright," Cassian said. "Come at me."

You tilted your head. "Are you sure?"

Rhys let out a low laugh, recognizing the glint in your eye, but Cassian only grinned wider. "Give me your best shot."

You didn’t hesitate. You surged forward with speed that Cassian hadn’t expected, forcing him to block at the last second. The force of your strike sent him back a step, and his grin faltered slightly. He adjusted, attacking with a quick sequence of slashes that you dodged with practiced ease, deflecting each one with a sharp clang of metal against metal.

Rhys and Azriel watched intently as you fought, their amusement turning into intrigue. Cassian grunted as you landed a hit against his ribs, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to prove a point. He barely had time to react before you twisted away and struck again, forcing him on the defensive.

"Alright," he muttered, shaking out his hand. "Maybe I underestimated you a little."

You smirked. "You think?"

Azriel finally spoke. "What if we made this more interesting?"

Cassian looked at him, then at Rhys. "You want in?"

Rhys grinned, standing. "Why not?"

And just like that, the game changed. Now it was Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel against you. Rhys had barely raised a hand before you attacked. You moved fast, too fast to what they were used to. You feinted toward Cassian before shifting at the last second, sweeping Azriel’s legs from under him. He caught himself with his wings, barely avoiding a full fall. Cassian lunged, but you anticipated it, twisting under his arm and elbowing him in the ribs before blocking Rhys’s incoming strike with the flat of your blade.

"Mother above," Cassian muttered, rubbing his side.

You danced between them effortlessly, your fighting style sharp, efficient, and familiar.

"She’s almost fighting like an Illyrian," Azriel noted, breathing slightly heavier than usual as he dodged another hit. His eyes narrowed. "Where did you learn that?"

You deflected Cassian’s sword and flipped back to create some space. "My mother trained me," you said simply.

Rhys shot a look at Cassian. "It makes sense. She wanted her to be prepared for anything. And since Illyrians are known as the best warriors, why not use their techniques?"

Cassian exhaled, rolling out his shoulders. "Alright. But there’s one thing we haven’t checked yet."

You raised a brow. "And that is?"

Cassian suddenly lunged forward again, this time using his wings to gain extra speed. You barely managed to sidestep, but then Azriel was behind you, and Rhys cut off your escape.

Pinned. Or at least, that’s what they thought.

At the last second, you dropped low, sweeping your leg out and taking Rhys’s feet from under him. He grunted as he hit the ground, and before Cassian or Azriel could react, you winnowed behind them, kicking Cassian square in the back before grabbing Azriel’s wrist and twisting it behind him, forcing him to yield.

Silence. And Rhys groaned from the ground. Cassian turned, rubbing his spine, while Azriel simply let out a long breath, clearly impressed.

"You have got to be kidding me," Cassian muttered.

Rhys, still flat on his back, just laughed. "I think we just got our asses handed to us."

Azriel gave a small nod. "Definitely Illyrian training."

Cassian narrowed his eyes at you, then let out a low, appreciative whistle. "I’d love to know who exactly trained you because I need to hire them for the camps."

You sheathed your sword and smirked. "You’d have to raise them from the dead for that."

Cassian shook his head, but a grin spread across his face. "Alright, alright. I admit it. You’re terrifying."

Rhys finally sat up, rubbing the back of his head. "That was unexpectedly humbling."

You grinned, offering him a hand. "Don’t worry, High Lord. I’ll go easy on you next time."

Cassian laughed. "Oh, I like her."

Azriel just gave you a long, considering look before murmuring, "I think we all do.

You stretched your shoulders, rolling out your wrists as you met Cassian’s gaze. He was still catching his breath from the last fight, but there was a glint of excitement in his eyes.

"Another round?" he asked, tilting his head.

You smirked. "Unless you’re scared."

Cassian let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, I like you even more every second." He cracked his neck, stepping back into position. "Alright, sweetheart. Let’s see what else you’ve got."

Azriel and Rhys exchanged glances before shrugging and taking their places beside him. Three against one. Again. You lunged first.

Cassian blocked your initial attack, but you moved too fast for him to counter, slipping under his defenses and landing a sharp elbow to his ribs before twisting away from Azriel’s incoming strike.

As you moved, you spoke. "My mother had an estate near the Illyrian Steppes," you said, ducking under Rhysand’s outstretched hand. "She used to help females who ran away from the war camps."

Cassian grunted as he barely dodged your next hit. "Your mother?"

"She was cruel," you admitted, spinning away from Azriel’s shadows. "But she wasn’t evil. She saw what was happening to the females, and she decided to help them."

Rhys aimed a kick at you, but you sidestepped effortlessly. "And how does that tie into you knowing how to fight like this?"

"There was a male," you said, stepping into Cassian’s space and sweeping your arm up to block his next attack. "One of the few who actually helped those females escape. My mother made a deal with him, he would train me, and in return, she would continue helping those who fled."

Cassian’s brow furrowed as he adjusted his stance. "So he taught you the Illyrian way?"

"Not exactly." You ducked under Azriel’s punch, spinning behind him. "He taught me how to beat Illyrians."

That made them all pause for a fraction of a second. You took advantage of that hesitation. You winnowed behind Cassian, kicking the back of his knee to force him down before using his shoulder to launch yourself up and over Rhysand, landing lightly on the balls of your feet.

Cassian cursed. "What do you mean ‘beat Illyrians’?"

You smirked. "You fight full force, power, brute strength, reinforced defenses." You dodged Azriel’s blade with ease, twisting around to block Rhys’s next move. "But I’m smaller. Slimmer. That means there’s less of me to hit."

Rhys narrowed his eyes. "So instead of matching an Illyrian in force, you use speed?"

"Speed, angles, redirection," you clarified, sidestepping Cassian again. "I don’t hit where you’re strongest, I find your openings and hit where you’re weakest."

Azriel suddenly changed tactics, dropping his stance to try and grab you from below, but you saw it coming. You twisted mid-air, using his shoulders as leverage to flip behind him, landing softly.

"That male trained me to exploit Illyrian weaknesses," you continued, parrying Rhys’s strike. "Your wings, too big to move quickly in tight spaces. Your center of gravity, higher because of your muscle mass. Your attacks, strong, but predictable. Illyrians fight like battering rams."

Cassian grunted, rubbing his ribs. "And you fight like a fucking dagger."

You grinned. "Exactly."

Azriel, to your surprise, let out a quiet chuckle. "No wonder we can’t pin you down."

Rhys shook his head, amusement in his violet eyes. "I think Cassian just found his worst nightmare."

Cassian groaned. "Remind me to never underestimate you again."

You smirked, adjusting your stance. "Don’t worry. I’ll remind you every time I knock you on your ass.”

You barely had time to recover before launching into another round, dodging Cassian’s relentless strikes as you explained further.

"Illyrians are powerful, but after learning your ways it becomes predictable," you continued, parrying Azriel’s blade before flipping over Rhys’s sweeping kick. "Your wings are an advantage in the sky, but on the ground, they slow you down. If someone knows how to use that against you—" You feinted left before slipping behind Cassian and jabbing at the soft spot near the base of his wing. He hissed and stumbled forward.

"Shit," Cassian muttered, shaking it off. "That’s a dirty move."

"You should teach it to your soldiers," you countered, stepping back. "Better they learn it from each other than from an enemy on the battlefield."

Azriel, observing, nodded in approval. "What else?"

You dodged a punch from Rhys and continued, "Illyrians tend to overcommit to an attack. You strike with force, assuming your opponent will buckle, but if they evade too fast, your momentum leaves you wide open. Instead of lunging full force, feint more often, leave room to recover if you miss."

Cassian frowned. "We usually don’t miss."

"You usually don’t fight someone like me," you shot back with a grin. "And you probably won't for a while. But someone will figure this out one day. Better to be prepared."

Cassian smirked, clearly impressed. "I’ll make sure the war camps hear about this."

Rhysand was about to respond when a voice echoed across the training ground.

"RHYS! CASSIAN! AZRIEL!" All four of you turned as Morrigan sprinted toward you, her golden hair wild, her face twisted with urgency. "Hybern attacked Adriata" she shouted. "Tarquin is begging for help”

For a single heartbeat, everything was silent.

Then Rhysand was moving. "Get the others," he ordered. "We leave as soon as possible.”

☆

The moment you arrived in Adriata, the scent of blood and smoke filled your senses. What should have been a thriving city of shining white stone and flowing canals was in ruins. Buildings collapsed, homes burned, bodies — Summer Court soldiers, civilians, and Hybern’s invaders — littered the streets. The sea raged against the shore, as if mourning the destruction.

Azriel barely took a second before vanishing into the shadows, his siphons glimmering as he gathered intelligence. Rhys turned to you, his violet eyes dark with fury.

“Assess the battlefield,” he ordered. “Tell me where we hit first.”

You scanned the chaos before you, breaking it down into patterns of movement, weaknesses in the enemy’s formation. Your mother could be as cruel as she wanted, as restraining as she could, but she always taught you how to find your enemies weakest points.

“Hybern spread their forces too thin trying to claim multiple areas at once,” you noted, pointing to a key road where a large group of soldiers were forcing civilians into a corralled area. "They're using that plaza as a control point. If we take it, we cut them off from their strongest foothold."

Rhys nodded, already barking orders. “Darkbringers! Secure the plaza and eliminate all Hybern forces. I want no prisoners. The rest of you, clear the civilians and get them to safety!”

A low murmur rippled through the ranks, Night Court wasn’t known for aiding other courts. But when Rhysand’s power flared, swallowing the battlefield in darkness, the hesitation vanished. The army surged forward, weapons drawn.

You turned to another front where Hybern’s forces were moving toward the palace. “Az, I need your spies to take out the commanders. Without orders, their soldiers will fall into chaos. They are killing machines, but they don't use their brains as their own.”

A flicker of shadow, and he was gone. Then you saw Tarquin, standing at the city’s edge, trident in hand, watching your forces winnow in. His face was wary, unreadable.

But then he heard Rhys’s voice booming over the battlefield. "Take Hybern down. Protect the civilians. Leave no survivors among their ranks."

Tarquin’s surprise was brief. Then, with a roar, he raised his weapon, and the sea itself answered. A wave crashed into the docks, swallowing Hybern’s reinforcements whole. Just then the battle truly began.

You darted forward, slicing through Hybern soldiers as the fight spread. You moved through the fray like a ghost, reading the battle as if it were a book laid open before you. Hybern’s forces fought with brute force, but they were slow. Sloppy. You took down a general with a precise strike to his exposed side, then winnowed just as an arrow flew past where your head had been.

A soldier lunged at you, sword raised, only to be blasted into oblivion by a dark tendril of power. You turned to see Rhys hovering above, his wings spread wide, darkness writhing around him as he cut through enemy ranks like a god of death.

Not far away, Azriel emerged from the shadows, blood dripping from his blades, his expression unreadable as the enemy commanders fell.

Then Cassian’s forces arrived, Illyrian wings blotting out the sun. The tide of battle shifted. And Hybern was about to regret ever setting foot in Adriata.

Taglist: @rcarbo1 @raisam @itsinherited @romantic1stories @nebarious @mystirica-18 @willowpains @xelladarlingx @lucilia9teen @lifetobeareader @hjgdhghoe @carmenadkins78 @ireadsstuff @oiolabomdia

[sparda-soully]

Disturbance of the Peace

Parents Fyolai x adopted, daughter! reader

Headups: Strictly PLATONIC with reader! Fyodor and Nikolai are husbands bc yes. Fyodor, Nikolai, and some other characters may be OOC so I apologize for that. Just silly fun with the Dostoevsky-Gogol Family!!

Just writing this to highlight the fluff, found family troupe and totally not bc my husband (ahem, Fukuzawa) was like that in the latest chapter 😇. Hope you enjoy this!!

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Sounds of water were dripping against the acrylic sink. Soon, a brushing noise was followed afterwards. In the mirror, a young girl — who looked about seven years old — was seen brushing her teeth with a light blue toothbrush. Her outfit was pajamas with tiny strawberries scattered across her pants. She carefully move her toothbrush back and forth in small strokes as to not damage her gums; father said to be careful after all!....Although papa highly encouraged her to do so as it was supposedly "fun". Yeah right.

Getting every nook and cranny of her teeth, she gathered water into a small cup, raising it to her lips. She tooked a gulp of water, swirling and gargling the water mixed with the toothpaste before spitting the fluid out. Then, filling her palms with the lukewarm water, she washed her face, relinquishing the sudden warmth. The faucet turned, shutting the water off. With her eyes closed, she fiddled her fingers around, trying to feel where she left her towel at. Upon reaching the area she left it at, her fingers didn't made any contact with the soft material.

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'...That's weird. I thought I put it here', you thought, finally opening your eyes. You ignored the wetness that was drenched on your face in favor of searching for your towel. Your e/c eyes stared at the marble countertop, blinking in confusion as the realization caught up to you. The towel where you originally placed it at was missing, making you utterly perplexed. "...Huh..?", you mumbled, standing there.

You were sure you placed it there; there was no way it disappeared! Unless if it was–. As if you finally caught on about the mysterious disappearance of your towel, a voice called behind you. "Why hello little dove! How is my favorite girl doin'?", an eccentric voice inquired. Turning around, you were greeted with your papa, Nikolai bending down at your height. His visible bluish grey eye pierced directly into your e/c eyes, seemingly staring into your soul.

"папа..?", you said his name which earn you a bigger smile. Frenzied, exotic laughter erupted from his lips, sharp teeth made its appearance. "Bingo! That's me", he cheered, still staring straight at you without blinking. His smile etched further on his face, stretching across cheeks until it finally reached its limit. The two of you maintained eye contact, not breaking it at all as if the two of y'all were cats quietly sneaking up upon your prey.

Silence loomed over the two of you until you decided to break it. "What are you doing here?", you asked, finally blinking which made you lose the game the two of you were silently engaged in. Hearing your question, your papa swiftly stand back up in a dramatic way. "Oh poor me! My own daughter doesn't want to see me, how utterly terrible! You don't care about your dear old dad? Who could've raise such monster", he whined, placing his hands over his heart as he wore a crestfallen expression.

"Eh? No! I mean–What are you doing back home early? You and отец were busy with Uncle Sigma and Grandpa with something", you mentioned. Immediately, Nikolai's expression shifted into a beaming one. "Well we're finished now! So come on and let's play some games. Ooo, how about Go Fish, Patty Cake? Or how about Stab the Jester? It's your favorite!", he sprouted game suggestions. Your papa was big on the idea of games, after all kids your age were supposed to enjoy their youth so here comes the introduction of games! Although, they all have his own little spin of his twisted mind especially that last one but we don't talk about that! That's for later.

Your eyes sparkled, practically beaming at the idea of playing your favorite game, Stabbing the Jester. You wished you could played but unfortunately, one you had school tomorrow and two you still have to find your lost towel. Giving your papa a sad smile, you slowly shook your head which made him have a confused look. His daughter never turned down his amazing ideas so why now?

"Sorry papa, but I have school tomorrow. You know, father will scold me and you if he catches us playing games this late at night", you explained, giving him an apologetic look. It was true, your father was strict and stern when it came to your studies, wanting you to sleep early and study to exceed your brilliant intelligence further. It was a significant contrast to your papa who was the whimsical, quirky parent that spoils their child rotted. "Ugh who cares what Fedya said? We'll keep it a secret, pinky promise!", he proposed, lifting his pinky and wiggling it in the air, eagerly encouraging you to entangled your pinky with his. As tempting as it was, you still didn't want to face your father's wrath.

Still, you shook your head which made Nikolai pouted, his eyes narrowing at your declination. "No thanks, I don't wanna deal with father's punishment. Besides I need to find my towel...", you gazed around, trying to search for your towel. Hearing that you were looking for your towel, Nikolai's face suddenly faltered into a cheeky, evil smirk. His teeth flashed at you as a glint of anticipation and excitement glimmered in his bluish eye. Uh oh. Before you could speak, he cuts you off with a big grin.

"Quiz time!", those two words made you mentally groaned to yourself. If he's doing one of his quiz, that means he has an answer to it. "Where do you think you put your towel at?", he inquired, putting his pinky finger down. He brought his hands behind his back, letting his black and white cape draped over him. A mischievous expression formed on his face, tugging his lips into a big smile. "It was on the counter but it's gone...so that means y-", before you could finished, your papa interrupted you.

"Ding Ding Ding! Did you say I used my ability? Well you're indeed correct my маленький ангел!", he spoiled the answer out of his own excitement that was surging within him. You sighed, already fed up with his antics. Glancing up at him, you gave him a look which made him chuckled. Nikolai was amused by your behavior; he wanted to spend time with you right now since he was practically gone by the moment you woke up because the Decay of Angels had a meeting all of a sudden. So, he'll do whatever it is to keep you and himself entertain, even if that meant preventing you from getting sleep.

You were about to ask him to give it back when you felt something soft patting your cheek. Averting your eyes to your right, you saw an orange portal with Nikolai's dark magenta glove grasping the towel. He gently wiped your wet face with slow strokes as if you were a delicate kitten. You noticed your papa's visible eye softened with a look of content and love swirling in them. It was a rare sight to see your papa like this, deep in a trance while gently taking care of you like any good parent would for their kids.

After he dried your face, he bop your nose, shooting a wink at you which made you giggle. He deactivated his ability, placing the towel back on the counter. Briskly, he scooped you into his arms, lifting you and tossing you up in the air. High pitched squeals and laughter escaped from you when you were latched in the air. As he threw you up in the air, he skillfully and efficiently moved out of the bathroom and into your bedroom while tossing you up and down like a ragdoll. It was a normal occurrence for you and your papa; yeah it wasn't ideal and was dangerous for numerous reasons but if you're happy and having fun, then he'll continued toss you in the air just for you to be a free bird spreading its wings and soaring through the air. This process repeated for some time, disturbing your sleep schedule.

It seems like that high pitched noises and laughter drawn another person's presence. Footsteps stride towards your bedroom with precise, fluent movement. A pale hand grasped your doorknob, turning it to the side before opening it fully. I guess the fits of excitement drowned the noise of someone coming in. "Y/n. Koyla", a monotone voice made you and your papa directed y'all's gaze towards the man standing by the doorway. Instantly, Nikolai stopped throwing you in the air, still carrying you in his arms. A surprised gaze washed over his face as your hands clutched your papa's two-toned jacket. Your heart skipped a beat, sweat dripped down your brow as you stared at your father in a look that children gave to their parents when they did something wrong.

Sharp, dark purple eyes glared at you, making you shy away from him. You buried your face into your papa's clothes, wrinkling his attire greatly. "Nikolai, why are you pestering our child with your foolish antics? It's passed her bed time", his thick Russian accent accentuate his sterness. His husband just blinked at his words, slightly pouting at his serious partner; readjusting you in his arms, he made sure you weren't fully looking at your father. "But Fedya! It's only 9:30 pm, and I haven't seen my favorite dove at all! Just let us have some father-daughter time for a bit", he whined, drastically swaying his body from side to side. Fydor just stared, unfazed by his actions or whiny voice. This was the man he choose to married...so of course he'll be used to his tomfoolery.

"No. She has school tomorrow", your father begins to sauntered towards you two. His long coat fell behind him with each stride he took. He gave Nikolai a look, but Nikolai still had you in his arms, refusing to give you to him. Your father sighs at the stubborn man. "Koyla, do you want her to be sleepy in class?", he asked, making him pondered. Eventually, he slowly shook his head no. Yes he was a deranged man but he still cared about your health! You were just a small dove, having lack of sleep could possibly hindered your performance of soaring through the sky, something he greatly feared. Finally acknowledging defeat, he gazed back at you, pulling your face off from his wrinkled buttoned up jacket.

"Ah I guess you're right, having a sleepy bird wouldn't be so good now will it? So it's time to return back to the nest for some proper rest!", he exclaimed with a smile returning back to his face. Nikolai carried you to your bed, ready to place you down and tuck you in, but your father interfered. "Koyla, you should go. I'll tuck her to bed", he asserted. Hearing his words, Nikolai felt shock that Fyodor suggested such thing; I mean, he should tuck you in, clearly he's the better parent when it came to "sleeping"....Or so he claims, in fact he isn't the ideal person of tucking a small child to bed without telling some stories that will leave them up at night.

"Eh, why not?! I'm perfectly capable of putting her to sleep!", he pulls you futher into his embrace, refusing to let you go. Of course he'll be on the offense side right now. "Remember the last time you tuck her into bed? You told her a story that made her have nightmares for a few days. She was forced to sleep in our room. I won't let that happen again", Fyodor's remark made Nikolai shot a glare at him.

"Hey it was funny!". "Not to her though".

You knew that your papa will go back and forth with your father over this small issue, so you tugged on his jacket, causing him to averted his attention to you. "Papa, I want отец to tuck me to bed", your comment made Nikolai sulk. You wanted your father more than him? Haha! What a funny joke...right? "Oh how cruel of you! You just broke my heart into millions of pieces! Such a ferocious mouth you have. So you would rather hang out with your father than me?", he begins his drama cries, hoping you'll fall for it. Unfortunately for him, you were so smart for your age that the guilt tripping didn't fazed you. "No, I didn't say that. I just want father to tucked me to bed", you clarified, earning you a huff. "Fine...But just know I'm getting you out of school early tomorrow!", he declared, staring directly at you which made you smiled a bit. "No Nik-". "Alright папа! Let's play tons of games tomorrow!", you beamed in excitement with the thought of getting picked up early.

Fyodor wanted to say no, but with the two of y'all already chatting about plans tomorrow, he decided to let this slide just this once. His eyes still remained on his husband, urging him to say his goodbyes just so they could talk alone. Seeing his husband's hidden message, Nikolai quickly tossed you up in the air one last time before pulling you into a bone crushing embrace which made it harder for you to breath. Sensing the sudden lack of air you had, he loosen his clutches around you. "Ah goodnight my little angel! Sleep tight and let song birds drifted you to sleep", with his final goodnight, he ruffles your hair a bit before giving you to your father. He gave one more look at his loving family before exiting out of the room leaving you two alone.

You were now in your father's arms, glancing up at him with a glimpse of wonder and nervousness shining in your eyes. Dark purple eyes stared back at you as his grip around him was gentle compare to your papa's. You wanted to say something but couldn't because of your thoughts blaring and tainting your mind with negativity about your father's disappointment of not following his words. As if he knew the internal conflict stirring within you, he spoke up. "It's alright, маленький ангел", he reassured you, slowly placing you down on the soft mattress. He pulled the blanket over you, letting the new found warmth consumed you. Still, you felt bad that you went against your father's words. Your eyes were glue on the dark red blanket, fingers firmly gripping the cozy material.

"...I know but still. I could've told papa I was heading to bed, instead I gotten distract", your mouse like voice made him hum. You didn't get an instant response from your father which made you more tense. Will he have an outburst just like others before when you didn't follow their orders?...No, you shouldn't think about them, they didn't matter now. You have father and papa now and that's all that matters, you're safe.

"Like I said, it's alright. There's no need to fret over something minor like that. You're just a child. I don't expect you to be sharp with your time", he raised his hand and carefully patted your head. The unexpected affection made you staggered, unable to process what just happen. You calmed your breaths, letting yourself relaxed at the sudden weight bestowed on your head. It felt nice to endured, experienced even especially since your father wasn't a man who displayed affection often. His reassureness and touch seemingly eased you down enough that your worries begin to leisurely slip away from your mind and heart.

"However, that doesn't mean I'll let this slide though", he reprimanded which you expected. Your father was the strictest out of your family, but he means well; he has his own way of showing that he cares and one of them was being strict. "You'll be accompanying me after school. There you will write and speak in Russian as well as Ukrainian and you must perform them in front of me. Do you understand?", his expression never faltered from his neutral look. He maintained his respectful composure and spoke in a professional, authoritative manner that accentuated his place as a parent.

You listened with keen ears, indulging his words carefully. "Mhm, I understand, father", you muttered with a small nod. Finally, you spared a glimpse at your father's dark purple eyes. It was refreshing seeing him again; the calm voids of his eyes made you feel better. His eyes told so much more than his words and body language. Concern clouded his eyes, yet his body posture was straight and firm as if nothing happened. The phrase, "Eyes don't lie", truly can described who your father was.

"Y/n, I'm not angry at you", he adds again, hoping those words go through that thick skull of yours. "You went along with Koyla's antics because you missed him. You missed us and I apologize for not spending much time with you lately", he brushed the strands away from your face so he could see your expression. Your eyes shot opened with your lips agape. At first, you couldn't speak due to this but alas, words finally spilled from your mouth. "It's okay, отец. Work has been keeping you and papa busy", you said.

You never knew what your dads did for work as it wasn't your business. Although, you visit their supposed based before and sat in your father's lap as he did some stuff on his computer. Sometimes, your grandpa will take you away and make the Hunting Dogs watched you while he and your family do some...work. "How about I'll take you to one of those new cafe that recently opened up? The one you keep pestering us about", he asked which made you immediately deepen your gaze on him. "REALLY!? You'll take me?", you tossed the blanket off of you, now sitting up on your knees. Eyes sparkled in anticipation, waiting for his answer.

Chuckles erupted from him due to your outburst. "Of course. It'll be you and I. I'll sent Koyla to do something with Sigma", he said, making you more excited. It looked like you were about to burst any minute with enthusiasm fueling your body. "But you need to go to sleep. You have school tomorrow", being reminded of school, you sulked. You didn't want to go to that dreadful place with a bunch of average kids; you were much better than them evident to your straight A's on your report cards and test. You wanted to hang out with your family, but it looks like that was only possible after school and on weekends. Oh well, at least you were gonna be having much fun with your parents this week!

Fyodor begins to tuck you in again much to your disappointment. The clock on your wall read 9:42, about a good 12 minutes has passed since your small scolding happened. When your Russian father pulled the blacket over your small body, he was about to leave when your fingers gripped his white shirt. "Hm? What is it?", he looked back at you with a confused look. "Can you read me a bed time story...?", you gave him your best puppy dog eyes. "But it's passed your bed time-". "Pleassssseeee", you pleaded, still tugging on his shirt relentlessly. With a sigh, he turned around, sauntering back towards you.

This action made your lips curled upwards. You let go of his shirt, pulling the blanket further on you. Fyodor headed towards your book shelf, scanning at each book before landing on one of them that caught his eye. He pulled it out, staring at the cover as he walked back towards you. Pulling out a chair, he sat down in a close yet far away distance. "Is this good?", he showed you the book. You observed the book with wonder and interest and with a smile, you nod.

Getting a confirmation, he read off the title and author, crediting them before opening the book. Soon, the once quiet air was filled with a thick Russian accent. The way he pronounced each words gave a calming effect as if soothing you to sleep. Flipping through page after page, he read each line with clarity and sharpness. His quiet yet soothing voice was making you droopy. You felt yourself gradually shifting back and forth to the dream world and the real world. Alas, your eyelids touched each other, making your eyelashes act like closed gates. Small snores escaped your mouth and you finally succumb to a deep slumber.

And as soon as your father said those fairytale words, you were completely knock out. You nuzzled against your blanket, seeking its warmth with great possessiveness. Fyodor's lips twitched into a small smile; he closed the book, standing up before returning the book back onto its original position on the shelf. He slide the chair back to its place by your table, and he loomed over you. Seeing how peaceful and innocent you look, a soft, tender glint glimmered in his eyes. You were just a child after all of this, a child in this God forsaken world. After everything that happened to you, you still acted like a child regardless of your past.

He swore he'll changed this world by completing his goal: a world without ability users. He will carried out God's will and fulfilled his dream to ensure his daughter's innocence and prevent losing his husband. Bending down, he kissed your forehead before reciting a little prayer to you. He stood up, fixing up your blanket to make sure you were warm enough. He strolled towards the door, hands already on the doorknob. He took one last glimpse at your sleeping figure. "Goodnight, маленький ангел", he muttered, turning the lights off before exiting out of your room and closing the door behind him.

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Merry Christmas y'all! Hope you all are having an amazing Christmas! And if yall don't celebrate it, then Happy Holidays! ^ ^

I just wanted to write something Bungo Stray Dogs related as I'm getting back into this silly show/manga. (Please I just wanted to do something platonic and fluff bc of the latest chapters occurring in the bsd manga 🥲)

All rights reserved!! | Please do not steal, claim, or plagiarized this as I put a lot of effort into this | Dec. 25, 2024 | ©Sparda-Soully

[vinelark]

do you have any good reverse robins fic to rec?

oh hell yeah!

Reverse Robins: Joker Junior series by miyaji_08 i rec’d the second fic in this series over here for the timkon of it all, but the series—two parts, both complete—is also one of my absolute favorite reverse robins stories. it goes the joker junior!tim route, so heads up for A Lot of tim-centric trauma, but gives tim (and everyone else) so much healing, too. it also gets creative with the robin of it all, as in, the call sign for batman’s partner is different from the jump because dick wasn’t around to originate “robin” for it, which i always think is a fun extra detail. the batfam characters are great and the young justice crew is also great, so read for top-tier hurt and comfort and great characters and satisfying plot and tim and damian competing to see who is the most Tired big brother of the bunch.

blood of the covenant by envysparkler robins are angsty in any order, but man does this hit the angst sweet spot, which in turn makes the soft parts feel even softer. i genuinely can’t decide what my favorite dynamic is in this AU, between damian & tim (damian wracked with guilt, tim hurting and still wanting an older brother even if he’d never admit it) and tim & jason (no spoilers but chapter 4 especially lights my brain up like a supernova) and tim & dick (i think about the part where dick grayson [tiny, cheerful] uses tim [undead, annoyed] as a jungle gym like once a week).

Wing Beats in Reverse by firefright a longfic where jason gets kidnapped by the mysterious red hood, who turns out to be jason’s not-so-dead predecessor. the jason pov here is great, and i was so compelled by how this AU explored his place in the bat family, and how it managed the emotional fallout from the kidnapping. tim is also so interesting in this—it does something i love in a reverse robins concept, which is make tim’s motivations (and lazarus pit effects) less about anger/hurt/revenge and more about ice cold logic, about being the villain so the bats don’t have to/whether they want him to or not. plus some league of assassins trauma as a cherry on top. also, kon gets to show up for a bit. (as a fair warning—and spoilers ahead—the fic has a somewhat hopeful ending for tim, but doesn’t reach full reconciliation in the scope of the plot.)

i woke up so worried that the angels let go by circees a short but potent batkids age reversal au that’s also a grisha au, starring duke as the coveted sun summoner that damian is trying to deliver to safety without mentally adopting a new brother (damian fails on the second part). even with my limited memory of grisha lore i could tell a lot of thought was put into this au, and i have a feeling it would be even better if you are able to catch all the details. i also love that even in a fantasy world where some of the bat family have magical abilities, duke is still extra special—a great analogy to being a metahuman among the bats.

The 90s Are Back! by RedWritingHood saving the two silly ones for last to lighten the mood! in this one, red hood!tim gets de-aged to sixteen and meets all his new siblings. it’s like .01% angst and 99.99% shenanigans, and pretty much all the dialogue is super quotable but Dick holds out his hands like he's calming a bunch of wild animals. "Okay, I know everyone's real upsetti spaghetti right now, but I think we all just need to calm down." might take the cake.

Clowns Don’t Kill People by mademoisellePlume very short, very silly reverse robins brother shenanigans, in which tiny dick grayson isn’t scared of recovering joker junior!tim because dick, having been raised in the circus, doesn’t associate clowns with evil yet. the fic is fun (and a great palate cleanser if you need a break from the angst above), and the author’s note at the end made me fully laugh out loud.

[rorywritesjunk]

Oh, go to sleep, Little Skylark. Fly up past the stars

After breaking your heart, Buggy is cursed to be a kid again. The last thing you want to do is be involved with this.

Rating: PG-13ish. Warning: A crying kid. Reader doesn't keep emotions in check a few times here. Also an adult lying to a kid because what else do you do in a situation like this? This story and how the Reader deals with Kid Buggy is different than the other Kid Buggy story. A/N: This is what I originally wrote before the other Kid Buggy fic. I decided to revisit it and tidy it up before posting it. This has no connection to the other story at all. Completely different.

Title comes from “Little Skylark (safe at home)” by S.J. Tucker.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @fluffybunnyu @plethora-of-fickleness @ane5e @valen-yamyam16 @lavanderdreamve

Chapter Three

You hit a wall at dinner. Your things were back in your room at the inn and you did not want to be in the bedroom again, but there was no choice. You didn’t want to leave the kid alone to sleep with the crew, and you didn’t want to sleep in the bedroom again, but you didn’t want to leave him alone at all. Not to mention when you looked in there you saw a photo of the two of you still on his desk and it took everything in you not to throw it out a porthole and into the water. Instead you stuck it in a drawer.

Dinner was an experience. You cooked what you knew to be Adult Buggy’s favorite meal, which to your relief was the kid’s favorite. He was excited to eat it, letting you know it was delicious as he shoveled the food into your mouth. You couldn’t help but smile at the compliment, even if it was coming from a nine year old. And while he regaled Mohji with a tale of his adventures on the Oro Jackson, Cabaji told you what actually happened.

Buggy was cursed by a witch after trying to steal some flowers from her garden. When he was confronted, he stuck his tongue out at her and called her old so she turned him back into a child. It happened so quickly that when Cabaji and Mohji went to look in the pile of clothes where Buggy was just standing, they found him as a child asleep in Buggy’s shirt. The logical thing was to bring him back to the ship and look for you for help.

Of course he would do something stupid like that. You thought as you rubbed your temples. This ordeal was giving you a headache.

“Why was he stealing flowers?” You asked as you picked at your food. You didn’t want to know the answer. He gave you flowers whenever the ship arrived at a port. Did that mean he already had someone else lined up that quickly? You pushed your plate away as your stomach churned at the thought.  

“He just said something about ‘Oh, she’d like these’ before tearing them out of her garden.” Cabaji told you as he ate. You glanced over at him.

“Who’s ‘she’?”

“No clue.” 

You no longer had an appetite and pushed the plate closer to Cabaji before you got up to start cleaning. So there was someone else. How long had it been going on, you wondered. If he didn’t want to be with you he should have just said something instead of saying horrible things to you. It still would have hurt but you would have preferred him to be honest instead of going behind your back. You glanced over at the kid. He looked pretty happy to have an audience to listen to his stories, even if it was just one person. How could a sweet kid turn into such an asshole?

After dinner was one more meltdown when he asked again when he’d be going home and you told him the same thing as before. It was getting exhausting. You didn’t have the energy for this and you were about to just leave and let Cabaji and Mohji deal with it, but a tiny hand grabbed the hem of your shirt and you looked down to see two bright, tear filled eyes looking back at you. Your heart ached at the sight. The kid didn’t know what was going on, he was innocent in all of this, not the adult. You rubbed your face and sighed. 

“How about a bath? Do you like baths?” You asked. “I bet that would make you feel better and help you sleep tonight.”

As soon as you said the word he was no longer crying, instead looking disgusted by the suggestion. It was almost comical and you suggested a bath again, but instead you two agreed on just washing his face and hands for now. You weren’t sure how long he was going to be like this and Cabaji had no more information. You really hoped this was just a 24 hour thing or something so you could move on from this nonsense.

There was a pile of clothes in the bedroom. You found a pair of pajamas for him and handed them over after giving his face a good washing. There was some lavender scented lotion that you accidentally left behind, and after he changed you let him rub some onto his hands and arms. 

“Smells girly.” He frowned. You rolled your eyes as you grabbed one of Adult Buggy’s shirts to sleep in. 

“Don’t say that.” You scolded him gently. “It’s not, it’s very calming and will help you sleep.” You changed tops quickly and looked over at him. “Captain Roger uses lavender lotion. Keeps him relaxed.”

The kid’s head whipped around so fast you almost thought his head would have popped off his body. He looked back at the bottle of lotion before he poured some more into his hands. You hurried over and took the bottle from him before he could make a mess.

“Really?” Buggy asked with a frown. “How do you know?”

“Because I know things.” You told him as you took some of the lotion from his hand and rubbed it onto your own. “I’m the captain, after all. Captains have to know a lot of stuff about other captains.” 

Buggy rubbed the excess lotion onto his arms some more before lifting his hands up to smell the scent again. “Guess it’s not that girly.” 

You tried not to roll your eyes. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll do something fun.”

He shrugged and headed for the bed, climbing onto what had been your side previously. You said nothing as you got onto your ex’s side, trying to ignore how his pillows smelled like him. You didn’t want to be here at all, but you had to help him as much as you didn’t want to. The kid seemed to kind of trust you, as much as he could in this situation, but you didn’t know if you could keep the story going forever. Tomorrow you’d find the witch and beg her to change him back so you could move on.

~

You didn’t really sleep. You dozed, waking up every time the kid stirred. There was maybe an hour of uninterrupted sleep before day break and when you woke up something was clinging to you. When you opened your eyes you hoped to see the adult Buggy so you could knock his head off his body, but it was the kid, clinging to you as he slept. This was no different than when he was an adult and you hated it. You didn’t want any of this. Tears sprang to your eyes and you covered your mouth to keep quiet, allowing yourself a moment while he slept. This wasn’t fair at all.

The kid started to stir and you hastily wiped your eyes on the blankets, hoping he wouldn’t notice, or maybe he’d start crying and the two of you could have a cryfest together. 

He looked up at you with a sleepy frown before sitting up away from you. 

“You sleep okay?” You asked as you wiped your eyes. “You want breakfast?”

That seemed to perk him up. He nodded and lept out of bed, taking off for the kitchen while you got out of bed and followed after him. 

He ate breakfast with gusto. You just sipped some coffee as you watched him, your brain trying to process having custody of your ex as a kid. You had to go find that witch today to get him turned back sooner rather than later. As cute as he was, you didn’t want to deal with a kid. It wasn’t what you signed up for when you joined the crew and then became his girlfriend. There was never any talk of “Babe, if I get turned back into my 9 year old self, please take care of me” because this was just something you didn’t expect to happen. And now you were no longer together and you were back on the ship and in the room where everything seemed to finally fall apart. You were focused on your thoughts, not realizing tears were rolling down your cheeks when the kid was suddenly at your side, touching your arm to get your attention. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked as you set your mug down and crouched down to his level. 

“Why are you crying?” He demanded. He actually sounded just a bit worried.

“I’m not, the coffee just irritated my eyes.” You lied as you wiped your face clean on your sleeve. You took a deep breath and smiled at him. “So, we got chores and things to do today. You up for it?”

Buggy smirked. “I can handle a few chores.”

“Perfect.” You said as you stood back up.

~

You crossed your arms as you watched Buggy help the crew with the cleaning and moving of supplies. It gave you a little break from him. Kids were exhausting, Buggy as an adult was exhausting, and the combination of the two drained you completely. If he cried again you’d just walk off the ship. Let Cabaji and Mohji put up with their captain now, it shouldn’t have to be you dealing with all of this. 

How long could you keep up this act for, that Roger was coming with Shanks to take him home in a few days? Maybe you could leave before it came to that, let the rest deal with the upset child. Or maybe the situation would solve itself by then.

Buggy walked past you at that moment, grinning widely as he chatted lively with the crew. He looked up at you, grin even wider. You sighed and smiled back at him as you trailed after him.

“So, enjoying my crew?” You asked as you took one of the two crates he was carrying. “They’re a fun bunch, aren’t they?”

“They’re alright.” Buggy shrugged as you headed below deck. 

You tucked the crate under your arm and ruffled his hair with your free hand. He turned and made a face, not liking that one bit. You chuckled. He hated it when you’d do it to him as an adult, so you only did it when he was particularly annoying on some days. You had tried to do it nearing the end of your relationship once, trying to see if you could get a bit of a reaction out of him to get him to talk, but the way he had snapped at you had scared you just enough that you didn’t try it again.

“What’s wrong?” 

You blinked down at the kid, looking confused for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

“You look sad.” He pointed out as he set the crate down. “Kinda like at breakfast. Is your boyfriend being dumb?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You said a little too harshly, setting yours down as well. “I’m fine, okay?” 

Buggy looked a little taken aback by your tone but nodded, looking away from you. You felt like an ass and was about to apologize when he gasped in surprise.

“You have a lion?!”

Oh, right. Richie. Buggy hurried over to the cage, staring in awe at the large beast. The lion looked at him confused, wondering why the captain was so small. He looked at you for an explanation, but you just shrugged and opened the cage before stepping in. Once you were close, the lion pounced on you, causing the kid to shriek.

“Is he going to eat you?!” 

“No, no, he’s happy to see me.” You insisted as you ruffled his mane. “He’s a very fierce member of our crew, y’know.”

Richie wouldn’t get off you. He hated that he hadn’t seen you in a week because while Mohji took good care of him, you snuck him tasty snacks from time to time. That steak was one of the best things he had in a while and before you knew it he was sniffing and pawing at your pockets, trying to see if you had anything for him.

“Can I pet him?” Buggy asked. You managed to push Richie away long enough to agree, gesturing for him to come into the cage. “He’s not going to eat me, right?”

“No, no, he won’t. He’s very sweet.” You assured him. “He likes being scratched between his ears so be gentle.” 

Buggy nodded, listening to what you were instructing him to do. Richie leaned into the pets, excited to be having so much attention showered on him at once by the two of you. It was kind of nice having Buggy listen to you for once. Before he would have scoffed and had his hand taken off by Richie if he tried to pet the lion incorrectly. Maybe having him as a kid for a day or so wasn’t that bad.

[sunnyrealist]

Chapter 09: Ruin

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars (rewritten!)

Hi! After working on this story for about a year and a half, I've decided to take a break from creating new chapters for now to focus on rewriting from the beginning. I hope you'll give the new and improved version a chance. Constructive feedback is always welcome and much appreciated!

Previous Chapter Recap/Context: Sebastian Sallow and Kate Mayflower spent their first date walking around Hogsmeade until the early hours of the morning. Both of them felt an instant and deep connection to each other. Though she had never moved that quickly in any other relationship, Kate invited him to her cottage. After Sebastian promised her it wouldn’t just be a one-night stand, they passionately made love and found that they were even more in tune with each other than originally thought. Both of them wondered, deep down, if the other was their soulmate. As Kate fell asleep in his arms, Sebastian worried about the way Kate might react when she eventually learns about his past; he didn’t share the full truth with her out of both hope and fear. He knew that she would ask about his terrible scarring sooner rather than later but prays that she is kind enough to not let it spell disaster for their budding relationship.

Tags: Romance, New Relationship, Hope and Dreams, Honesty, Lies, Confessions, Betrayal, Morals and Values, Angst, Sorrow, Emotional Turmoil, Dark Magic, Hurt/No Comfort

Content Warnings: The morning after, feelings of betrayal, emotional turmoil, sad ending

NSFW Illustration by @giselsann below the cut

Chapter Music: “A Red, Red Rose” - Bear McCreary (Outlander soundtrack), “The Sun is in Your Eyes” - Jacob Collier, “Tribute” - J. Scott Rakozy (Hogwarts Legacy soundtrack), "The Crypt, Pt. 2" - Abel Korzeniowski (Romeo and Juliet soundtrack), “Farewell” - Dario Marianelli (Atonement soundtrack)

Word Count: ~4,700

Link to Wattpad Link to AO3

<- Previous Chapter

Chapter 9: Ruin

She giggles, rushing over the top of a vibrant green hill dotted with bleating sheep. One tiny hand holds up her skirt and smock so that she doesn’t trip, and the other tugs along a young boy with a mop of black hair and clothing from long, long ago. Smiling, he shouts something in a language she doesn’t recognize, but it’s clear from his body language that he’s begging her to slow down. She shakes her head, continuing to dash towards a forest with a grin. 

She’s a young child. Ten, perhaps, judging from her size? She doesn’t recognize the setting or her clothing - it’s that of a… medieval peasant? Perhaps the girl isn’t her… 

A few buildings with thatched roofs grow further and further away as the two run off on an adventure. The woods ahead grow closer and closer. The sun is setting in the distance.

They hurry into the forest, jumping over fallen branches and startling some wild animals. A squirrel skitters through the brush and leaps to safety on the bark of a tree, climbing higher and higher until it is out of sight. 

A creek comes into view, and the two slow as they approach it. Kate walks to the shore’s edge and peers into the water. A girl she doesn’t recognize is reflected back. A handkerchief-like piece of fabric covers the top of her head. Her long hair is curly and so lightly blonde it practically looks white. Green eyes look back at her freckled cheeks, her smile missing a baby tooth. She glances at the boy, puzzled.

And then she wakes. 

What a strange dream… Kate muses. 

She realizes she is not alone. Almost instantly, memories from the previous night flood her mind. Good conversation, laughter, kisses, skin on skin, passion… She feels Sebastian’s body, warm and strong, completely engulfing her own as they lay, spooning. His hand is curled between her breasts. She is tempted to close her eyes once more, to simply listen to him breathing steadily and softly. But the day has broken.

She lightly grazes his arm in a featherlight touch - up and down. He inhales sharply, waking up. After a minute, he realizes where he is and who he is with. He kisses her shoulder, his lips lingering when his hold over her tightens, as if she will disappear at any moment if he lets go. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Sebastian murmurs in a sleepy yet content voice.

Kate smiles. “Good morning, moon prince.” She chuckles.

They lay quietly for a moment. Sebastian’s fingers begin to roam her body. He languidly presses his lips to her shoulder over and over again, his morning wood proud against her bottom. She relaxes into him.

“Mmmm,” Kate hums in approval. She slowly turns over to face him and giggles at his hair sticking up in odd places.

Sebastian’s chocolate eyes examine her face and every inch of her body that isn’t covered by the quilt, as though he is thoroughly memorizing each detail. He’ll be replaying this moment in his mind for the foreseeable future. Her golden hair, tangled from their very early morning activities, her eyes, blue like a summer sky, the pink blush upon her cheeks, her soft skin, rosy nipples on her large, round breasts. His fingers dance along her cheekbone affectionately. 

“So… this was not a dream,” Sebastian finally says. “I’m very pleased.”

Kate leans in to briefly kiss him. “No, it’s not a dream. We’re really here together. I’m so glad you stayed.”

He grins dreamily. “I could get used to this...”

She lets out a little laugh, then kisses him and wraps her arms around him. Suddenly, she feels his scars again. It rips her out of the haze of romance. She pulls away slightly, trying to hide her reaction.

“Since you let me sleep here, may I contribute in some way?” Sebastian asks. “Shall I make us something for breakfast?”

Kate’s eyebrows raise in shock. “You want to cook… for me?”

“Well, yes…? Is that a problem?”

She quickly shakes her head. “No, n- not at all… I’m just… surprised.”

“Kate, allow me. I want to please you.”

She smiles. “I certainly won’t say no. You may have free range in my kitchen. Use anything you like. Ingredients, pots, pans - anything.”

He captures her lips in a long kiss before scooting to the edge of the bed. “I’m happy to do it for you.” He stands, facing her once more, and stretches as she ogles his naked form. Bending down, he finds his underpants, tugging them back on.

“Shall I come with you?” she asks.

“No, I’d like for you to relax. I’ll serve breakfast in bed. Let me take care of you.”

She’s dumbfounded. A man willing to cook? Wanting to please her? It’s nothing she’s ever experienced, only imagined in her wildest fantasies. “Thank you, Sebastian…”

He grins widely. Kate stares as he strides out of the bedroom, but then, her eyes bulge when, finally, she can clearly see the scars covering his back. She attempts to hold in a gasp of horror. She has never seen anyone with so many scars. Brutal ones. It appears as though Sebastian had been whipped repeatedly. But it isn’t just lashes - some marks suggest other injuries. Even overlapping those are some that look like lightning - like he had been electrocuted. 

How…? How could he have so many scars? What could possibly explain them? Kate cannot come up with any reasonable answer, no matter how much her mind spins. Then she remembers his deflection. “Kate, we can talk about that later…” His words echo in her head.

Cupboards noisily open and close in the kitchen while utensils clink. Eventually, the scent of bacon fills the air. Kate waits anxiously. If she is to be with him, there is so much she needs to ask, so much she needs to know. 

Sebastian returns several minutes later, carrying a plate of food and a cup of water. Still clad only in his undershorts, Kate studies his upper body in closer detail. He has freckles everywhere, which she finds charming. His torso is lean - chiseled and athletic; it is clear that he takes care of his body. His back, however, is a complete contradiction. 

Kate accepts the bacon and buttered toast as Sebastian places the glass on the nightstand next to her. He kisses the top of her head, then strolls out of the room to retrieve his own plate. Her eyes follow his marred back as he steps back into the hallway. She debates how to address what she wants to ask as he disappears from view. Where to even start?

“Your kitchen is lovely, Kate,” Sebastian compliments as he walks back into the room, clambering into bed while balancing his plate. “I hope you like the food. I know it’s simple, but I just wanted to make something quickly. I don’t know when you last ate, but for me, it was quite some time ago.” He chuckles quietly. “I’m starving.”

“It’s such a treat to have breakfast in bed. No one ever serves me. I do everything on my own here,” Kate replies, biting into the toast. “So, thank you. Thank you for the breakfast… and for the reminder that I don’t have to be on my own.”

Sebastian eats a slice of bacon, contemplating her words. When he speaks, his tone is genuine and kind. “No, you don’t have to be alone. Not anymore. I want to be with you... I mean it.” He brings her hand to his lips. “I know I haven’t been all that transparent with you about my own background yet, but I want to know everything about you.” 

“And I you,” Kate replies, sipping some water.

While they eat, there are several moments in which neither of them talks. 

Sebastian eventually breaks the ice again. “I know your family doesn’t live near here. Do you… feel lonely on your own?”

Kate exhales. “I have a lot of friends and a large extended family, so I know I’m not truly alone, but… No one I’m close to lives near me.” She hesitates. Her eyes are cast down when she admits, “Yes. I’m lonely. I’m lonely all the time. It’s hard to live on my own. Really, really hard.”

Sebastian nods. “I can relate. I’ve been alone for a long time.”

Kate takes a breath, knowing this conversation might be difficult. He had mentioned that his parents had passed, as well as his sister. She then asks, “Why don’t you tell me about your family, Sebastian?”

He sighs, and there is a pause. He can’t keep stalling or hiding. Kate is already asking questions. It was inevitable, after all. “My family…” he begins, avoiding looking at her. “...it’s complicated.” He white-knuckles the plate, his face growing a little red. Slowly taking a breath, he meets her eyes. His voice breaks when he admits, “The truth is, Kate, that I don’t have a family.”

Kate didn’t realize that he truly didn’t have any family left. “Sebastian, I’m so sorry.” She pauses, taking his hand again. “Would you be willing to… to tell me more?”

Sebastian is slightly trembling as he shakes his head. “I… I can’t,” he whispers, tearing up. “Kate, you seem so loving… and kind… and caring… and if I tell you more, it’s going to ruin something as wonderful as we have, even in this short amount of time…”

“Why would telling me about your family ruin everything?” Confused, her hand tightens over his.

“I…” He sighs. “If I speak the truth to you, Kate, it will change how you think of me.” His next words come out very softly. “I don’t want to lose you. I mean it when I say I want to be with you, for us to have a future together. This isn’t the right time…”

“But I want to know. I should know,” Kate gently insists. “Sebastian, we can’t build any kind of relationship without honesty or not really knowing each other. Please.” She looks at him with so much concern, kindness, and compassion. 

“Kate…” He hesitates, his eyes drawn down to the bed. He wants to keep her safe from the truth about his past, but she deserves to know - and to be able to make a decision for herself once she does. Sebastian takes a deep breath. “My family is dead. Every single person. And it’s all because of me.” A tear falls, impossible to hold back. “I was too young to save my parents - only ten years old. But still, I can’t help but believe I could have done something.” He sighs. “It happened so suddenly. It was like any other day. My da and mum - they were in the cellar, reading and studying… No one knew there was a gas leak. It was impossible to detect.” He pauses. “Even today, I still can’t understand how something so mundane could have ended them. They were so intelligent and brave. If I hadn’t been outside playing with Anne… If I had checked in with them sooner instead of getting distracted… Maybe they wouldn’t have died.”

The dam has broken, and Sebastian begins to sob. She pulls him close, holding him tight against her chest and allowing him to cry on her shoulder. She traces a finger along his spine soothingly. 

“You can’t possibly blame yourself,” she murmurs. “You couldn’t have helped it…”

“But there’s more. Far more,” he argues. 

A few moments later, he pulls away, wiping his face. Everything within him is screaming that he should lie, to keep this sweet, good woman in his life, but he knows he cannot keep the truth to himself any longer. Sebastian’s eyes roam over her face, savoring what might be the final few moments she accepts him. 

He holds his fist to his mouth. “I’m not the person you think I am, Kate.” His expression is filled with guilt and grief. “I’m… I’m a criminal.”

Kate shrinks back. With an edge of fear, she whispers, “What?”

Sebastian’s eyes grow watery again. He can already tell - just from the tone of her one word response - that it’s all over. He hangs his head, dejected. “It’s true. When I was in my fifth year at Hogwarts, I used an Unforgivable on my uncle - the killing curse. I… I was arrested and taken to Azkaban.” His throat tightens, and even breathing feels painful. 

Kate’s eyes grow wide. Her mind is racing - absolutely racing. “You… you were in Azkaban?!” she asks, pulling the covers tighter to her body. She begins to wonder if she needs to be careful around him, though he never seemed dangerous - not until this moment.

Sebastian nods slowly, a tear slipping out as he sees how frightened Kate becomes. “I understand what you are thinking right now.” He lets out a sigh. “But… I want you to know that I didn’t want to k- kill my uncle. I didn’t mean it. Please, you have to trust me.”

Her jaw drops as she considers a response. Trust him? How can I? What do I even know about curses? She is quickly transported back to Hogwarts, taking notes during one of Professor Hecat’s lectures regarding the Unforgivables. As someone who hates conflict and was always reluctant to participate in duels, Kate was never considered a strong student in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but despite the many years that have now passed, she still remembers her teacher’s words. Kate echoes them: “In order to cast any of the Unforgivables, you have to really mean it…” She trails off. The logical part of her brain warns her that he is a killer and that saying more could potentially jeopardize her safety. At the same time, her heart weeps for the romance lost, the ghost of what could have been already haunting her.

“My uncle tried to kill me, Kate. I didn’t want to use that curse. I didn’t want to bury him. But what else could I have done? I had no choice. Please, you have to understand…”

“Why would your uncle want to kill you?” 

Sebastian’s face contorts as he shakes his head miserably, already giving up. He mutters, “It’s a long story, and I don’t imagine you will even care to listen to all of it. I won’t force you; it’s a lost cause, anyway. I know you will never want to see me again after this.” He pauses to see if she will disagree with what he said, but she remains silent. It’s over. It’s already fucking over. “My Uncle Solomon became our guardian when our parents died. Some years later, like I already told you, my sister, Anne, was cursed… and I was trying to find a cure for her because my uncle had completely given up. I was her only hope. So… I… dabbled in Dark magic, trying to fight fire with fire.” His jaw clenches. “My uncle found out I was practicing illegal spells and studying the Dark arts. He accused me of wanting to actually become a Dark wizard. He always hated me, Kate. He… attacked me.” He sniffles. “I swear to you, I was just trying to save my sister, but… I failed. I couldn’t save her or my parents. Not only that, I’m a- a murderer.” His voice breaks, and he averts his wet eyes.

“Honestly, I’m nothing but a monster,” he mutters, grimacing. “You won’t want to associate with me anymore, but… I need you to know that it felt so good to be with you, even for just one night. It really did, Kate. You’re one of a kind. You’re an angel. Caring and good-hearted and witty and funny… and beautiful. So beautiful. You deserve better than to be stuck with me. I’m… not worthy of you. Not at all.”

Kate’s heart feels as though it is crumbling into a million tiny pieces. Her eyes fill with tears. “I really don’t know what to say, Sebastian. You… you didn’t portray yourself accurately when we met. I just thought you were like… anybody else, really. I mean, I don’t usually begin getting to know someone by asking if they’ve murdered someone… I had no reason to believe that about you. I never would have thought you had killed someone and went to Azkaban for it...” Defeated, she stares off into space for a while before continuing. “I don’t know you that well. Maybe not at all. You charmed me into believing that we are… like a destined pair of lovers. Are you… trying to manipulate me somehow? Take advantage of me? Am I a fool?” She closes her eyes, cringing. Sebastian watches a tear smoothly glide down her cheek. “Bloody hell, I never do this. I never take men home! Merlin, I am a fool!” She shamefully buries her face in her hands. 

Sebastian fixes his eyes on the floor, the weight of her words looming over him. “You’re not a fool. You were just… kind, not judging me so quickly like everyone else. And it meant everything to me, Kate. Truly.” He carefully places his hand on her shoulder. She flinches, and he draws back, wounded.

 “Why… why didn’t you just tell me about your background upfront?”

“Kate, come on. You wouldn’t have given me a chance at all if you knew right away about how terrible my past is. Don’t deny it,” he replies.

Kate nods, acknowledging the truth. She would have immediately dismissed him, had she known. 

 “I just… wanted a chance to try to build something good for once,” he explains desperately. “I’m lonely. I’m so lonely. I have no one...” 

Her vision blurs, and she can taste her own salty tears on her lips. I’m lonely, too…

“Kate… please… is there any way I can earn your trust?” 

She wipes her eyes, shaking her head. Almost inaudibly, she murmurs, “I don’t know, Sebastian… I don’t know.” 

He lets out a shaky breath.

After a minute of sitting quietly and listening to the birds outside, she finally asks in a neutral tone, “Do you still practice Dark magic?”

“I will not lie to you. Yes. Yes, Kate, I do. I can’t explain it fully to you, but… I need it. I know you may not understand... I try to avoid it, but I need that magic.” I can’t tell her about my job… it’s too classified to share with someone who isn’t committed or close to me. It would endanger her, and me, and the mission. She’s not going to be around much longer anyway. This is a lost cause… just a fucking one-night stand after all… but Merlin help me, I want more… I need her…

“Then I can’t. I can’t be with someone that practices Dark magic. I just can’t. It goes against everything I believe,” she replies. Her throat is burning, more tears threatening to overwhelm her. “I… I don’t want a life like that. I always thought finding love would… feel warm. A- and it did… until… S- Sebastian, I…” her voice breaks as she now starts to weep. “I thought you wanted the same things I do, but… I guess I am wrong.”

Sebastian’s face is twisted with guilt. Softly, he replies, “No, you aren’t wrong, Kate. I want to have a loving family and find genuine happiness, just like you. I do want the same future.” He considers for a moment how he might yet convince her, but he is starting to feel like it’s pointless. 

“I am so confused,” Kate admits, wiping at her face and trying to get a grip on the situation. “You had me completely convinced that we were meant to be together. We… had an instant connection. Great conversation. Your sense of humor is like mine, and I’m… I’m so attracted to you. The sex - it was mind-blowing.” She sighs heavily, her gaze pleading. “Is there… is there really nothing I can say to convince you to stop using Dark magic, Sebastian?”

He answers quickly. “Kate, I want to be with you. I swear I wasn’t trying to manipulate you. I share the same feelings. We are meant to be together - I cannot explain it, but I know it’s true. And you know it, too,” Sebastian whispers desperately. “I just… I can’t stop practicing Dark magic. I’m so sorry.” He sighs, his expression already filled with regret. He bows his head, running his hand through his hair. “There’s… nothing you can do. Not unless you’re willing to give this a chance, even knowing what you do.”

Kate nods, looking away. She bites her lip unwittingly until she tastes blood.

Several moments pass, and it is very quiet.

“You a- aren’t really an Auror, are you?” she asks in a shaky voice, needing to know what is true and what is not.

“No, not exactly, but from a certain point of view, perhaps,” he whispered, and then his expression became more serious. “I made a deal with the Ministry - well, I was forced to - in order to stay out of Azkaban. I… can’t tell you much more. I work with Aurors in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but I am not really one of them. I… never even graduated from Hogwarts. I don’t have the credentials to be an Auror.” 

“And you don’t live in Feldcroft either, do you?”

Sebastian shakes his head. “No, I don’t live there. That’s where my uncle lived. It was the last permanent home I had.” His voice trembles as he continues on. “I don’t really even have a home, Kate.” 

Her heart aches at the betrayal, yet she still feels pity towards him. “Did you lie about everything?” 

“No. I never lied about having a connection with you, Kate.” His tone is genuine. “Merlin, you are the most caring person I’ve ever met, and I hate that you feel like I’ve taken advantage of that - like you can’t trust me. Please believe me: I never lied about my feelings for you, Kate. I just… didn’t have the courage to tell you about my past. I knew it would ruin everything. I think I wanted… maybe I wanted… to just pretend for a while that someone like you might actually care about someone like me.” 

Defeatedly, he whispers, “I guess I will never stop paying for what I did when I was a kid. Never. Nothing I do will ever make it better. I’m destined to be punished for the rest of my life. And now I will lose you, the only person who has shown me kindness and given me a chance in many years. I got my hopes up, thinking you could be the-” he stops himself mid-sentence, debating his choice of words and deciding he might as well say it, since he probably will never see Kate again anyway. “I… really believed you might be the one. But now I understand that meeting you was yet another punishment from the gods. I don’t deserve love.”

Kate exhales slowly, weeping because of her own broken heart but also his. “But I really, truly believe we have a connection, Sebastian. I don’t know what it is about you, but there is something there.” A tear falls from her eye. “I respect myself too much, though, to be with someone who lies to me, and I can’t get past the Dark arts. It goes completely against my beliefs and my family’s beliefs.” She sighs in defeat. “I feel sorry for what you have been through, Sebastian, but… I can’t compromise my own moral code.” She gazes at him through puffy eyes. “If… If you were ever to change your mind about Dark magic, maybe we would have a chance...”

Accepting defeat, he murmurs, “I understand.” He moves to stand up from the bed, glancing at Kate once more. “I… I want to thank you. For giving me a chance. No one ever does that. You gave me an opportunity to find some happiness.” He pauses, choking back a sob. “It meant a great deal to me.”

Kate’s expression is full of despair. She blinks back more tears as he puts on his clothing. She knows she should look away, but she can’t bear to do so. Soon, he’ll leave, and she’ll never see him again. “Sebastian, last night was the best date I’ve had in quite some time. It’s hard to admit sometimes, but I’m so lonely. I’m really so lonely here. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. We could have been something. I believe that.”

Kate’s words are yet another harsh blow. Sebastian freezes momentarily. “I’m sorry you feel lonely like that, Kate. I promise I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He sniffles, then pulls his trousers up around his hips. “You have no idea how much I wanted us to be something more. I truly hoped that this would have been the beginning of something wonderful.” Sebastian wandlessly summons the rest of his clothing from the living room. His shirt, vest, socks, and shoes float through the doorway, hovering in the air before him.

It feels strange to have this conversation naked, so Kate awkwardly rises and scurries to the closet to find a robe. It’s quiet as they dress, both of them contemplating the utter misery of the situation and what they should say to each other.

She slowly approaches him as he buttons his vest. “Sebastian, we were supposed to meet. I don’t know why, but I feel it in my bones. If only we had met when we were younger, when life was… less complicated…”

Sebastian musters a sorrowful smile. “Maybe fate will lead our paths to cross again.” He doesn’t really believe it. Heartbreak is the only constant in his life.

Very gently, Kate takes his hands in hers and feels that sensation all over again - the electric one - when his calloused fingers brush against her soft skin. “Maybe.” She sighs, staring at their joined hands. “Sebastian… Your past does not designate all there will ever be for you in your future. And… if someday you willingly let go of the darkness, maybe I would…” she swallows painfully, “...still be here on my own. I… I could be your light, if you ever want to choose me instead. I m- mean… I am the sun princess after all.” She smiles weakly, trying to ease the tension, as she squeezes his hands, her voice breaking.

Sebastian’s eyes grow watery yet again, touched by her words and attempt at humor. “You have such a pure soul, sunshine,” he tells her softly, meeting her smile with a sad one of his own. “I want you to know that you already did me good. In just one night, you gave me a little break from the world I live in. Now I have a reason - a push to get better.”

He lets go of her hands, and Kate reaches out, attempting to take them once more. “Please don’t go, Sebastian… I… I could h-” When he looks at her in disbelief and pity, she stops herself, realizing she sounds desperate. She is embarrassing herself. Her eyes travel to the floor. “I’m sorry,” she whispers regretfully, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I… I really don’t want to leave you. Not in this way…” Sebastian sighs, still standing in front of her. “I hate this so much.”

They spend a moment quietly gazing upon each other, memorizing the moment, knowing they may never see each other again.

“I wish you w- well,” she chokes out as she walks him out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and then into the living room. Soon, they hover at the front door. “I… I suppose this is goodbye.”

Sebastian’s hand rises to caress her cheek as he looks upon her one last time. “I am so sorry, Kate. I will never forget you and your kindness. My sunshine.” He leans down to kiss her forehead as a sob escapes her. “Please, take care of yourself. You deserve the entire world, love.” He knows that word makes Kate uncomfortable, but it may be his last opportunity to tell her how he feels. Then, he whispers, “Goodbye.” 

Sebastian opens the door and gazes at her one final time, his eyes filled with tears of misery, shame, and regret. He steps outside and, just like that, disappears from Kate’s life.

[zzzykiek]

Play it Sweet

2p!Alastor x Human Diabetic Fem!OC

TW: toxic workplace, noncon touch, manipulation

2P alastor Originates from: https://www.tumblr.com/anic-mj/627521842542936064/2palastorblueberry?source=share

No Smut this chapter, but Minors still DNI please. Enjoy!

5_____________________________Close Observation. 

Al lets you go. (No, come back!) He spins into the shadows. (What? where?)

You feel his lips ghost over your ear. “Miss me?” Al had, in mere seconds, transitioned to his human form without so much as a sound, appearing behind you, which causes you to jump and drop your towel. (Well, that's not the way to defend yourself.) He begins laughing at your startled state. “I hope you don't mind, but I perused your wardrobe and picked out your outfit.”

“You were gone for like two seconds, how the…?”

He skips towards the door and turns in a flourishing bow, “Power, my sunshine, I do have an image to uphold, after all.” 

Crossing your arms, you can’t help but reveal a tad bit of snark as you remind him, “Al, I've wiped your tears away multiple times. Why do you feel the need to show off for me?” 

“That is e-exactly wh-why.” His features soften as he breaks eye contact. His hands search desperately for something to cling to before landing on the lapels of his coat. 

He didn't need to explain any more. You immediately understood his line of thought. The idea of this powerful being desiring to impress you sends an unexpected spark through your body as you let your gaze begin to admire his own outfit choice for the day. A royal blue suit with a white linen shirt underneath. (I feel like one of those cartoons with the hearts coming off of them…)

He hooks a finger under your chin. “Keep looking at me like that and we will be late, my sunshine.” You are helpless to hide the shiver caused by him calling you that little nickname. He smiles wide and then leads you out to show you the outfit he had chosen. Black slacks with a royal blue chiffon top. Your favorite hair clip was sitting there as well, a bright enamel and rhinestone sunflower. “I couldn't resist that piece…It m-made me h-happy.” He admits while nuzzling into your hair.

“It is my favorite for a reason.” You respond wistfully, looking over as he rests his chin on your still bare shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Al,” you draw out his name playfully, “If you hold me like this, we will be late for sure.” He sighs and plants a tiny kiss on your neck, which sends sparks through your whole body before he slowly removes himself from the embrace.

Finally dressed, he helps you tie the bow at the neck of your blouse then runs his fingers through your hair, twisting and clipping half of it into the sunflower. You look at yourself and adjust the sleeves, your eyes falling on the very obvious bite mark from the morning's activities. 

“Sadly, it is best to keep that to ourselves, for now anyway.” He winks at you and pulls the kerchief from his breast pocket. He ties it around your wrist while he leans in to whisper “By the end of the week, there will be no doubt that you are MINE.” His growl at the end makes your body react as your free hand grabs at his coat. He laughs, planting a kiss on your now concealed wrist. 

Glancing at the clock you groan, “I guess we should go.” Grabbing your purse, you spot the printed itinerary you never showed Al last night. (Whoops, got a bit distracted I guess.) With a giggle, you pass it over as you both get in your car. “Guess you should look at this so you're a step ahead of Cliff, considering I never put a copy on his desk.” You cringe a tad knowing that was going to bite you in the butt later. 

“I will take the advantage, but we won't let him know that. For all he will know, you decided to wait and print them this morning.” Al glances at the plans and lets his free hand rest on your thigh, a move that doesn't seem conscious on his part. Humming in approval he hands the page back to you. 

You sneak a look over at him with no attempt to hide the mischievous look plastered on your face. “I fully expect you to go off script though, Al.”

 

His smile widens farther than it probably should as he turns his torso towards you, leaning his elbow on the dash. “I-I think you c-can read my mind sometimes.”

 

You almost choke at the irony of his statement. “I was thinking the same thing last night. Guess we just make a good team.” Tandem chuckles fill the car as you pull into the library parking lot.

You can already spy your boss leering at the two of you arriving together. His scowl deepens as Al opens your door and helps you out of the vehicle, before linking arms and escorting you towards him.. 

“Clifford! Wonderful morning! I am so excited to see the detailed workings of a library. I understand it's more than just books.” Al offers his unoccupied hand to your boss, who quickly sets his jaw into a smile and heartily shakes it. 

“And I am equally excited to get our little library’s important work highlighted.” Cliff grits out, ready to turn the conversation in his favor. (No way I am going to allow that.) 

“Of course it's not just for our little library, sir! Al’s segment will help bring awareness to libraries all over the United States!” You finish your statement with both arms clasped around Al’s and a slight hop. Al shoots over a glance of appreciation at your enthusiasm. 

“Oh of course Sunni, but I can't help but be proud that our community will be the ones to share their voice.” (Why does he always have to call me that….)

 

“I couldn't think of a better voice to share!” Al says, obviously referring to you, causing your cheeks to flush. 

“Well of course! I wouldn't have picked just anyone as my PR manager!” 

“The best choice you could make, sir.”

 

You choke back a laugh at Al’s efforts to beat Cliff at his own game. You add the nail in the coffin by cutting in before your boss can respond. “Gentlemen, I do apologize for not getting the itineraries out yesterday. I caught some small tweaks that needed to be made, let me get them printed and we can begin the tour! Al, you can keep your bag in my office when you are not needing it.”

“Perfect! Lead the way, darling.” 

Cliff moves and opens the front door for you, smirking as Al is forced to let go of your arm as you make your way through the doorway into the lobby. You can see the eyes of a few of your coworkers ogling Al as he walks behind you, hands gripped tightly on the strap of his bag now that he isn't holding your arm. You catch a glimpse out of the corner of your eye of him smiling but avoiding eye contact with everyone as you move through the establishment. Arriving at your office, you hang your purse on a hook and indicate its twin for Al to hang his. 

Al takes in the decor of your office, noting the vase of sunflowers that are at the end of their days. Cliff enters and comes to your side, placing his hand on the back of your chair. You feel a quick prick of static, indicating Al’s complete dislike of the current situation. After fussing with your computer for a few moments, the printer comes to life spitting out your plans.

PR Visit - Evening Tea 

Day 1

Tour and relevant staff introductions -Clifford and Sunnifa 

Library arrangement and basics -Sunnifa 

Open observation - no specific staff needed 

Debrief - Clifford, Sunnifa, and Heather

“Who is Heather, dear?” Al asks after reviewing the document. 

“Our assistant director. She has been a librarian for longer than anyone else here, making her a great resource for your interviews. She won't be in until this afternoon though.”

“Excellent! A veteran of the craft. I will have to plan a double length interview with her, getting history through first hand sources is always preferred.” 

Cliff snorts. “She is hardly worth your time Al, we need to get the view of the relevant community out, not the tales of an old timer.”

“Nonsense!” Al actually looks hurt by his statement. “I would have never attained my current standings in radio without speaking with every veteran broadcaster I had the honor to meet. Studying the history of—and the science behind—radio broadcasting is how I got to the point I am today! As I said, nothing beats first hand experience. Speaking of, I know Sunnifa has been working in Libraries for 5 years now. Where does your experience lie, my good man?” (Wow, he really knows what he is talking about)

“Well this is my second year in Libraries, but I have been working for the people since I graduated.” Cliff hooks his thumbs under his lapels like he just gave the most impressive statement.

 

“Hmm, well I'll save the rest of my questions for our interview. I do believe we have a tour to do!” Al turns and offers you his arm.

“Indeed we do! There is a surprising amount of ground to cover here.” You happily slip into his offer. “Cliff, sir, I will let you lead the way for this. I will fill in any additional info as needed.”

Cliff is all too eager to take the reins of the tour. Cliff is in his own element, presenting all the physical facets of the library. (He is doing better than I expected.) He didn’t even skip over the history of the building. (I guess he figured that would impress Al) While Cliff is engaged in his show, you can't help but catch all the looks and whispers pointed at Al and you. You know most of the staff are under the impression there's some sort of thing going on between you and Cliff, despite you clearly stating otherwise. Seeing you on another's arm has rumors and questions swirling. You catch Al glance at you, questioning the reaction of those you pass. You flick your eyes to Cliff and see the understanding smack Al in the face as he snarls, pulling you closer to him. His voice from this morning echoes through your brain “MINE.”

You're brought back to the present by a rush of floral smelling breeze. There’s a skip to your steps as you pull Al out onto the roof. Full of pride, you announce, “This is my personal project!”  Releasing Al, and you bound ahead to dance into the massive rooftop garden. “Good morning my plant babies!” Excitement drips from your greeting as you run around and connect with each plant.

 

“Sunnifa!” Your boss's voice is demanding. He hates the way you treat the plants like sentient beings, even though they are to you. “We are in the middle of a professional tour.” 

“How can you curb her happiness sir? The view is simply exquisite!” Al is not looking at the garden when he says this. “Besides, plants are such an important part of life on earth. Did you know plants can hear you? It's been proven that talking to plants helps them grow!”

“Of course it does.” Cliff grumbles under his breath. You return from the other end of the roof, features downcast in response to your boss’s stern voice, with no clue of the exchange you missed. “Sorry, sir.” You see Cliff go to speak before Al cuts in.

“Whatever are you apologizing for, darling? This garden is breathtaking!” He picks a blueberry off a bush. “You could feed an army with all you have growing up here.” He tosses it in his mouth, humming out a complement to the taste. 

“Well that's kind of what we do.” Your explanation is cut short as Cliff steals your spotlight.

“It is our biggest philanthropy endeavor! This garden is open to any hungry member of the community!” As he finishes his show, an obviously homeless older man comes out from the stairwell and begins pulling blueberries off the nearest bush. Cliff doesn't hide his grimace toward the new guest well.

“Hi Mr Stu!” You go over to the gentleman. “The cucumbers are ripe, and I just refilled the ranch in the community fridge. I know it is one of your favorites.” A small smile graces the gentleman’s face as he answers in a very hoarse voice. 

“How do you remember details like that? Especially about little old me.”

“I just do, Mr Stu; I just do.” You respond in a sing-song voice, playing with the rhyme of the statement. 

Cliff interrupts. “Well, we should be moving on to more relevant items for Al here to feature”

“Nonsense! This is prime content right here.” He softly walks over, approaching Stu with an air of respect. “Al, pleasure to meet you, quite a pleasure. I am a reporter for a popular radio station which will be featuring this library in an upcoming special. Would you mind sharing your story regarding this fine establishment and its staff?” Al nods to you. Stu’s expression first holds an air of worry, but he relaxes at the encouragement of your genuine smile. 

“I would be honored, sir.” He shakes Al’s hand.

“How about we plan an open lunch tomorrow, and Mr. Stu can bring some other members of his community to speak to me.” Al’s eyes sparkle as both of you catch Cliff's look of absolute disgust.

“Al, as nice as that offer is, I was hoping to take you out for lunch tomorrow with the board.”

“Oh well we can do it Thursday, then. Knock out all the public interviews in one day. Does that work for you, Mr. Stu?”

“Oh, I can do whatever, I have nowhere else to be.” He shakes Al’s hand again, shooting a glare at Cliff before pulling All closer and dropping his voice. “Don't let that jerk fool you,” 

“Oh, I have already seen right through him.” Al gives him a reassuring squeeze of the hand as he straightens back up sharing a knowing nod. “Thursday it is then! Bring as many friends as you can! I will make sure everyone leaves well fed and happy.”

You can tell your boss is ready to explode and you're not wanting to deal with that right now. “I could stay up here all day, but we should make our way back to the inner workings. Ms. Heather will be here any minute. I know you were excited to meet her, Al.” 

“That's my girl! On top of things as always.” The flash of desire in his eyes as he focuses on you makes your skin crawl. (Ugh, I didn't shift things back for you dumbass) Both Al and Stu sneer at your yelp from Cliff grabbing your healing wrist to Lead the way to the elevator. (Why the hell are you squeezing so tight!)

As Cliff hits the button for the lobby, you see Al’s eyes flit between the stairwell and the elevator panel and can already anticipate his question. And you answer in a melancholic tone. “We had some trouble with our garden visitors making a mess in the elevator.” 

“I am happy to help the community, but they get the level of respect they show.” Your boss’s tone lets you know not to say any more on the subject (for now). An awkward air settles as the elevator closes. “Sunni, we will have a moment to speak on the rest of these plans while Al meets Heather.” His voice is gruff and annoyed. You feel Al’s hand brush against your arm asking if he should step in.

“Sure, sir. Best to be on the same page” your uncomfortable but confident. You know it's not actually going to revolve around your plans. Al leans back against the wall of the elevator humming to the light tune playing from the speaker above his head. 

“How long have you been in the radio biz, Al?”

“I've aspired to be a host all my life! My mother found me a toy microphone for my sixth birthday and I have been hosting my own shows ever since!” 

“How about professionally?”

“I hopped in immediately after graduation! My town's local station took me in for an internship. I started hosting on my own about… seven years ago. Joined KMFDM three years ago and hit the ground running to bring The Evening Tea to life!” Al beams proudly at his story. You had gotten lost in his voice while listening. 

“Is your radio show all talk or do you indulge in music as well?” 

“Well I have been told people can listen to my voice all day, but my vocal cords would hate me if I did that, so I play a mix of old time jazz, it always boosts my spirits.”

“You don't seem old enough to be familiar with jazz.”

“Oh, my mother loved a good old swing around the living room. Those tunes take me right back there.” 

“I see.” You can feel Cliff stiffen at the idea of this oddball youngin’ liking his music. Thankfully, the door opens, and your wrist gets released from his grip. You dare not completely escape his grasp at the moment as he hooks your arm with his and pulls you out of the elevator. Al’s footsteps quickly follow, a slight static embedded in each one. (I am used to this Al, though I guess I shouldn't be.) 

You try to turn and catch his gaze, but Cliff pulls you forward, almost taking you off your feet, jaw clenched and eyes searching the office. “Heather! We have a special guest! Sunnifa got us some media coverage from a national radio broadcast. Al, I’ll let you do your thing while Sunni and I take care of some last minute details.” You catch Al’s gaze giving him a smile to let him know you can handle yourself. Al turns and you recognize his signature introduction to Heather as Cliff drags you into his office. He is fuming.

 

“What's the matter sir?” You pull your sweet, innocent voice out that you know causes him to go soft towards you. 

“This host is getting under my skin, I understand you have known him for a while, but I do worry his focus is not going to show what we want in this broadcast.”

“What we want, sir?” You play the hurt kitten very well. It is the only way you have kept your boss in check. 

His shoulders drop. “I know you love the garden, but it's hardly the focus you brought Al here for.” Cliff holds onto your shoulders and gets very close to your face. You catch his eyes dropping to your lips. (Shit, can he see where Al bit me this morning? Or is he just being his creepy self? Or both…? It’s probably both.) His form stiffens. “I also have to ask. What exactly is your relationship with Al, hun? You seem awfully close, for him being merely a business contact.”

“We haven't seen each other for two years, Sir, and my personal connection with Al is hardly any of your concern. He came here for business first and foremost. It is not like you are my father vetting my date for prom.” He hates you acknowledging your age difference by referring to him as a father figure, and you know it. “I have full confidence in Al and his skills to bring this broadcast to life. He will make sure he has all the information he needs. We have nothing to hide here do we, sir?” You let your tone drop, letting him know you could sense his desire to hide Stu and the homeless from the other staff and patrons. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of course not, Sunni.”

“You know I don't like being called that.”

Cliff sets his hand on your hip and steps in so close you can feel his nose on your cheek as he practically growls into your ear. “My apologies, sunshine.” Your stiff form attempts to recoil and you sputter at him stealing that name from Al, tears welling up at your lower lashes. Before you can respond, Heather's voice breaks the tension. “Eh-hem, am I interrupting something?” Her tone is firm and dripping with concern. You feel Al’s static, and know he just witnessed your boss's little stunt as well. Cliff moves faster than you have ever seen, stepping back as if he never invaded your space to begin with. 

“Not at all, I was simply sharing how excited I am about this opportunity.” 

You quickly exit the office, letting Al wrap his arm around your waist while nuzzling your cheek from outside of Cliff's view. Your body finally relaxes, and a few tears fall as you recover from the confrontation. Heather is quietly reprimanding Cliff; she has had her suspicions about Clifford’s attraction to you, but this is the first she has caught him acting on anything. Al meets your eyes, knowing not to say anything about what just happened, his look of concern and rage softening as he runs his fingers through your hair. You sigh and lean into his touch, forcing your boss’s voice out of your mind. (Talk Al; I need to hear you)

“Wonderful lady! Reminds me of my mother. She has invited us to lunch if you are up to it, my sunshine.” Gently leaning backwards, he reads your face before allowing you to answer.

“Of course, Al. I told you Heather is the backbone of this library. She dotes on all of her staff like a loving mother, puts us in our places too.” You laugh and look over as the conversation in the office reaches its end with Heather exiting and quickly embracing you. 

“Sunnifa, are you alright, dearie? I swear Clifford needs to go back to etiquette school! Unlike this wonderful gentleman; I am surprised you’re letting him grace us with his presence. I would be locking this one away for myself!”

 

“Oh Heather I think you have that quite backwards.” Al’s arm returns to your waist as he gently guides you closer. You don't even think of it as you rest your head on him. 

Heather claps. “Ohh, Suniffa, no one deserves such a gentleman more than you. You deserve some happiness in your life. I expect you can supply that young man.” 

“How have I done so far, sunshine?” Al looks down at you.

You can feel your face burn at the implications Heather is tossing out, but you can only answer truthfully.  “I have never been happier.” A look of surprise flashes in Al’s eyes before he redirects his attention back to Heather. 

“Ohhhh! You will have to tell me all about things; come on we are going to lunch. Cliff will hold down the fort!” Heather ushers you toward the staff exit as you see Al look over his shoulder and can only imagine the look he gives your boss. 

[seirclys]

SUOL-nim Season 4 Livestream recap!

Note: This will only be the English portions since I don't speak Korean or Japanese (ノAヽ)

Reminder: DO NOT SHARE IMAGES OR SCREENSHOTS OF SUOL-NIM'S STREAM. WE AREN'T ALLOWED TO DO THAT.

Season 3's recap

Thank you to @eloise-writes-things, @leila-lirui, @bluebutterflyrose, and @karmablacks for helping supplement some of this information when I was outside or when I was sick ^^

This time she's streaming on Youtube instead of Twitch! However, the VOD will still not be saved afterward.

As speculated, the cover is Winter and Siyeon(our transmigrator FL), with the necklace Winter gave her in the caves :)

volume 6 will be out this summer(approximately)

Unfortunately, she doesn't know when the English translation will be licensed since it's between Gyeoeul-nim and the publisher,,

Her voice is so nice... she speaks Korean, English, and Japanese too!

Return of the pink underlayer for the magenta hair!

She talked a little about the Alice in Wonderland dress! The color was specified in the novel as "sky-blue", and SUOL-nim thought it would be fitting for Siyeon to wear such a dress while adventuring with our White Rabbit, Winter

Ahh I had to leave the house for a few hours so the stuff below are all my panicked notes. Some of these are out of order, sorryyy

SUOL-nim showed us the concept arts of the characters individually.

Fun fact, Siyeon and OG!Penelope's concept art has them wearing the same colored shoes, but Siyeon's shoes have low heels, almost like flats.

She says that out of all the characters, Callisto is the hardest to draw. This is especially since his golden hair has narrative importance and the aesthetic is hard to nail down.

The webtoon is mostly SUOL-nim's own work! She doesn't really speak to Gyeoeul-nim about work matters or help in adapting some scenes.

It takes her a week to finish a chapter, so she doesn't really have a "backlog" of progress. This is also why there's an extra week of break after four weeks.

One of the most memorable changes she made in the adaptation was changing the Empire's name from "Inca" to "Eorka". She reasoned that because "Inca" is the name of a real Empire, it would be confusing. Thus, she changed it.

The anagram of "Eorka" to "Korea" was completely accidental.

She has an Instagram for her SUOL account(like how she has a personal and a work Twitter) but has no plans on using it since her Twitter is overwhelming.

She doesn't have a favorite dress, but one of the ones she's especially attached to is the white Goddess dress since most of Penelope's wardrobe is dark.

She shows her folders occasionally, and we get little peeks of concept art for characters like Ivonne, the assassins, Penelope's male disguise, Cedrick, Emily's Hunting Competition dress, Winter's layered clothing, and minor characters, as well as the tiny bird monsters.

She also showed the dress concepts for Season 3!

In addition, we got to see a rendered concept of Penelope(think the promotional portrait) as well as a version of that style for Reynold and Penelope's faces in her folders.

There was also a WIP with Eckles and Penelope, perhaps a small illustration she scrapped, hasn't released yet, or just a concept.

We also got to see a silly doodle of Penelope, a redraw of a Crayon Shin-Chan frame(it's a popular kids manga/anime in East Asia).

The original was Shin-Chan trying to decide between a few identical outfits; the VADD version is the one where Penelope is surrounded by objects representing each ML.

The ointment from Reynold, the scroll from Callisto, Winter's mask, Eckles' collar, and Derrick's bird cage.

Her rendering is immaculate; Siyeon glows off the page.

The info after this is second-handed since I'm still sick and I fell asleep an hour before it ended ;-; but my throat is killing me and my ears were ringing

The Eckles Penelope art is the preliminary sketch for the physical Vol. 6(from my calculations!)

She moved to sketches around this time ^^

For the top row, SUOL-nim drew a Penelope, an Eckles getting dressed, and a sulky baby Reynold in a onesie. To the right of him is a doodle of him and Derrick in high chairs, with the Duke and a heavily pregnant Duchess watching over them.

On the bottom row, we have Emily in a noblewoman's dress and a fan with her hair pinned up(with feathers!), the head butler Pennel, and an overworked salaryman Cedrick on his phone.

Edit: He's chatting about Callisto with his feet on the table while thinking about strangling Callisto loll.

The stream was approximately 6 hours long!

Also, something she reiterated for a bit: Season 4 is planned to come out in August/September. The dates are tentative but she wants to get it out to us by that period.

It was nice seeing a lot of the discord and tumblr crew!!

Also, the stream tea: SUOL-nim requested that we translate our comments that weren't in Korean, English, or Japanese since she has to moderate the chat still and she doesn't want to feel left out of her own stream. Even if it's conversing amongst themselves, they should still translate.

A group of Arabic-speaking viewers actively ignored her and there were small fights in chat, and she even addressed this issue TWICE.

And in the end they still didn't do it, so... PLEASE RESPECT SUOL-nim's stream rules! At the end of the day, it's still HER stream! She has to moderate it! Don't make it unnecessarily difficult for streamers to stream!

This is basic chat etiquette.

[rainsoughtflowers]

do you see right through me?

part four

tw/cw - graphic depictions of death, angst, swearing, violence.

a/n - last chapter :(( until the epilogue ofc. thanks for reading, i love you guys.

much to your surprise and dismay, you find the room empty.

your fingers slip away from the doorway, cautiously entering the still space. a quick glance at the desk in the corner of the room reveals it to be vacant, no signs of the school nurse you were originally looking for. releasing a short breath, you consider your options for a moment. do you seek her out in the teachers lounge? return to class? a sharp pain throbs at the center of your knees, the palm of your hands, and it's enough to make you forget your internal dilemma and cross the room to sit down on a nearby bed.

just as you rest your weight on the soft sheets, your eyes catch onto the sleeping figure resting on the bed beside you. you startle, examining the boys peaceful expression, his relaxed posture.  as per usual, he doesn't bother to wear his complete uniform, dressed only in the white button up shirt and gray trousers. both is hands rest on the back of his head, his lips parted as his chest rises up and down in even breaths.

"kyung-jun?" you mumble quietly, not exactly expecting a response, having said the boys name out loud more out of surprise to confirm your suspicion.

at the sound of his name the boy opens one eye, fixing his attention on your form. upon recognizing you, he opens the other, squinting at you in slight annoyance, "what?"

you mirror his questioning stare, "are you taking a nap?"

"what the fuck does it look like?"

once more, you take in his relaxed state, the wrinkled lines across his uniform. you lean back, staring at the ceiling in thought, "i guess that explains why you didn't show up to class." a smart decision. the teacher had you run laps around the field as punishment for talking during instruction. even now, your muscles burn from the unexpected excursion. 

a smug grin forms on his lips, "were you looking for me?"

you consider his question, taking in the arrogant confidence plastered on his face. you decide to opt for honesty, "yes."

kyung-jun must not have expected that response. he blinks, slightly taken aback, and a light redness spreads across his ears. he huffs out something below his breath, so quiet you aren't able to catch the words, then promptly sits upon the bed, eyeing you curiously, "what are you even doing here?"

"hm? oh." you glance down at your knees, the skin raw and bloody, then at your hands, palms up, revealing wet dirt and dried blood. just the sight of the scrapes and bruises causes the pain to return slightly, "i fell."

kyung-jun follows your eyes, releases a curt 'tsk', "obviously."

"it rained recently, so the dirt is soft. my foot got caught in it." you explain simply. it had been disorienting at first, feeling your balance waver, the ground swallowing you up. in an attempt to break the fall, you braced your hands against the ground, which only seemed to further the damage. unexpectedly, your knees slid across the dirt, slicing across several tiny rocks beneath the grass.

he takes in your words, staring intensely at the roughed up skin. something shifts in his expression, something you can't even begin to explain, and you never get the opportunity to decipher it. without a word, he stands up, and you follow his movements as he walks over to the nurses desk and begins rummaging through the various cabinets.

"what are you doing?" you ask, slightly confused by his strange behavior.

kyung-jun doesn't answer, just continues his search. eventually, he finds what he's looking for, pulling out band aids, cotton balls and antiseptic. he holds the items in both hands as he shortens the distance between you, pausing over your sitting form. you stare up at him, noticing the determined set of his jaw, his focused eyes. but there's something else there, too. a hesitation, an uncertainty, as if ko kyung-jun was nervous.

weird. what a strange expression for him to have.

he crouches down, placing the items by his side. instead of using them right away, like you expected, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief. a plain, soft baby blue. gingerly, almost a little unsure, he brushes the fabric against your knees, wiping away the left over rain and dirt, removing the smeared blood. you stare, quietly, afraid to breathe in case it scares him away and breaks the tender moment you found yourself in. 

when it's clean, he places it down and reaches for the antiseptic, opening the bottle and pouring the liquid over the cotton ball. then, his free hand rests on the back of your knee, pulling it closer, holding it steady as he gently starts dabbing it over the wound. it hurts, the alcohol leaving a harsh sting across your sensitive skin. but oddly enough, you pay no mind to the pain. instead, you watch him carefully, the way his face scrunches in concentration, the light touch of his fingers pressed against your skin, hesitant to cause any more unnecessary pain.

he's gentle, you think rather fondly, feeling your heart race.

finally, kyung-jun places the last band aid over your right knee, his fingers brushing over to smooth it out. he lifts his eyes up, staring at your bloody hands, and understanding his intention, you hold them out, face up, waiting patiently.

he blinks slowly at you, then promptly reaches over, brushing the dirt away from your fingers.

"you're so fucking clumsy. don't you know how to be careful?" kyung-jun mutters, though his insult holds no bite, simply an exasperation. like the thought bothers him. you decide to ignore the underlying meaning hidden within.

you shrug, "i blame the weather."

he releases a short breath, putting down the cotton ball and placing the last of the band aids over the cuts. he pulls his hands away immediately after, averting his gaze. you inspect his work, the careful precision of his actions, leaving not a trace of blood behind. he did a good job, and you wonder if kyung-jun has to do this often. cleaning himself up, patching injuries when he gets into trouble. you wonder if he has anyone to do so for him. to care for him when he's hurt.

"thank you," you whisper softly, the corners of your mouth lifting up into a smile. you feel yourself on the verge of something, an affection for the boy. you think you could fall in love with him given time, "you're a good person, kyung-jun."

he glances up quickly, caught off guard. the two of you stare at each other for a moment, his eyes frantically scanning your face, both curiosity and something else rapidly forming across the planes of his own features. you swear his ears turn an even darker shade of red, but maybe it's just a trick of the light, or a result of your own heat flushing your cheeks.

then, so suddenly you don't render it until it's happening, kyung-jun is shooting to his feet, the quickness of his movements causing you to blink rapidly in surprise. he stares down at you, eyes narrowed, the ghost of a scowl threatening to curl his lips. your own face slowly morphs into confusion, wondering why he suddenly looks as if the sight of you caused him great repulsion. you open your mouth to speak, to question his sudden mood change. the curling of his fists, his clenched jaw, but kyung-jun only curses low beneath his breath and storms out of the room, leaving you alone with your scrambled thoughts and emotions.

what just happened?

the sight that greets you when you flutter your eyes open is one that will forever be branded inside your mind. a memory you will look back on countlessly, replaying it over and over again with a tender sort of fondness. 

turning your head to your right, kyung-jun is there, his eyes still closed, clearly still fast asleep. you note the way he looks in his present state. all his features are peaceful, relaxed, not yet tarnished by his temper or agitation. his lips are parted slightly, releasing small, quiet breaths. you catch the exact moment he starts to stir. his eyebrows knit together and his nose twitches, just slightly, enough to cause the rest of his body to twitch awake.

he opens his eyes slowly, blinking away the remains of sleep, glancing around the room before finally finding your own watchful gaze. for a split moment, he looks relieved, but its quickly replaced by a blank expression. you open your mouth, words dancing on the tip of your tongue, but they get lost in the announcement from above.

BEFORE THE LAST VOTE CLOSED, THE DOCTOR NOMINATED WHOM TO HEAL. THE NOMINATED PLAYER WAS KIM JUN-HEE. THANKS TO THE DOCTORS ABILITY TO HEAL, KIM JUN-HEE HAS BEEN BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE.

your eyes widen at the words, heart racing erratically inside your chest. jun-hee. jun-hee is alive. the doctor granted him more time, a second chance. you scramble to your feet, and kyung-jun follows, grabbing the keys from the counter and crouching down by the lock. he slips it in, turns it, and pulls open the shutters once it's removed.

you spot it immediately.

there, right in front of you, plain as day, lays a bloody axe and kyung-jun's jacket, both of which are covered in blood.

slowly, you turn your head towards the boy beside you, his own attention never straying from the incriminating evidence by his feet. there is pure panic in his eyes, his hands trembling by his side, his jaw tight with tension. a swear escapes through the boy's lips as he hastily reaches for the objects.

you grab his wrist to stop him, "what are you doing?"

"if people see this they'll think i'm the mafia." kyung-jun snaps, attempting to reach out his hand once more. you stop him a second time, tightening your fingers around his wrist. you look desperately into his face, urging him to return the attention and fully grasp the seriousness of the situation you both are in.

"if you hide it and someone finds it, how do you think that'll look?" you reason.

kyung-jun releases a harsh breath, "what the fuck do you expect me to do then?"

the alarm erupts once more. the announcers voice comes back, crackling to life.

DURING THE NIGHT, SHIN SEUNG-BIN WAS EXECUTED BY THE MAFIA. SHIN SEUNG-BIN WAS A CITIZEN.

the blood in your body goes cold at the words, your fingers slipping away from his wrist. kyung-jun laughs in disbelief, dropping his body to sit on the ground and run a hand through his hair, "fuck. i'm fucked."

MORNING HAS COME. PARTICIPANTS, PLEASE FIND THE MAFIA AND BEGIN TO VOTE.

there are voices. just down the hall, slowly but surely coming towards your direction. your eyes drift towards the arcade door, spotting the blood smeared across the yellow surface. the scene of the murder. seung-bin, dead inside, a bloody axe by your feet. you come to a decision.

you turn towards kyung-jun, placing your hands on his shoulders and forcing him to look at you, "listen to me. i will get you out of this. just trust me, okay?"

kyung-jun doesn't respond at first. he looks up at you, his eyes flitting between each of your own, down and across each inch of your face. please kyung-jun. please trust me. let me help you. let me carry the weight of your burdens.

he moves his head, the slightest motion, just enough to seal his agreement. instantly, you feel relieved, reaching forward and pulling him into a quick embrace.

for now, you push the bloody contents into a corner in the snack bar, a temporary solution until you have an opportunity to speak with the group. you pull yourself to your feet, both you and kyung-jun following the commotion, which has stopped just around the corner. right outside the bathroom, jin-a stands shirtless, the piece of clothing bundled in his trembling hands. before you can question the strange scene, you spot motion out of the corner of your vision, eyes following the shuffling form.

na-hee steps cautiously towards the arcade door, her small, quivering fingers reaching up to press against her nose. confused, you step forward, only to get hit with the blatant, overwhelming stench of blood. your own hands shoot up to your face, stomach turning.

"na-hee?" you question when the girl pauses by the door.

instead of answering, she reaches forward, pushing it open.

a bloodcurdling scream is pulled from her throat, shattering through the open space. the girl falls to the ground, revealing the gruesome scene inside. seung-bin lays flat on the floor, his entire body covered in blood, his stomach and chest butchered like he'd been stabbed several times, even long after he had passed. your stomach turns even more, crawling up your throat and threatening to pour out. you step away, squeezing your eyes shut to get rid of the horrid sight.

someone killed seung-bin. no, they murdered him. not because they had to, but because they wanted to. this was different than the other times.

eun-chan turns around, searching the room and landing his eyes on jin-a, "hey!" he shouts, marching up to the boy, "did you kill him?"

jin-a trembles, shaking his head insistently, "it wasn't me! i didn't kill him! when i woke up this morning, that's how i found him." the rest of your classmates turn towards the boy, eyeing him suspiciously, barely convinced. when jin-a realizes this fact, despair coats his words, "it wasn't me. guys, it really wasn't me."

even then, no one says anything. jin-a glances around the room, searching for a friendly face. you try to imagine it. jin-a killing seung-bin in cold blood. leaving the evidence in front of kyung-jun's door. but even as you put the pieces together in your mind, they never quite seem to fit. something wasn't right. you were missing something. but what?

when jin-a realizes his attempts at convincing everyone of his innocence are futile, he walks away, retreating down the hall. you meet kyung jun's eyes, and already you can tell by the look on his face that he thinks jin-a did it, his anger steadily building upon his features. but no, that couldn't be right. why would jin-a be caught covered in blood? if he really was the mafia, he would've had plenty of time to clean himself up and hide the evidence.

you motion with your head towards jin-a's general direction, a silent demand for him to follow the boy. kyung-jun's face scrunches in confusion, and he looks reluctant, like he'd rather do anything else but comfort his friend. but you give him a hard stare, and he huffs before rolling his eyes and walking away.

you consider the situation more carefully, turning the clues around in your head. if jin-a woke up with blood on him, he probably freaked out and went to wash it off, not realizing his actions could come off as guilty. perhaps he was being framed for the murder, too. was the mafia trying to kill the whole friend group?

yoon-seo rushes inside the arcade, inspecting the body and taking several photos. your eyes drift across the room, finding it mostly empty, save for two other people. jung-won and jun-hee. the sight of the boy, breathing, alive, fills you with a mixture of worry and relief. your feet move on their own, rushing towards his figure and engulfing him in a hug.

"thank goodness," you breathe, tears slipping down your face when his arms reach up and return the embrace, "i'm so glad you're okay."

"all thanks to the doctor." jun-hee mumbles, a light edge of amusement creeping into his tone.

you pull away, staring into his face. images of last night appear before you. the flashing lights, the blaring alarm, both your friends side by side, facing death. you couldn't even begin to imagine what happened to jun-hee's body when he died. how he died.

all because of you.

"i'm so sorry," you sob, the tears falling more freely now with no signs of stopping. you reach up with futile attempts to wipe them away with the sleeve of your uniform, "it's all my fault. i shouldn't have suggested-"

jun-hee gently stops you, "don't. it was a good idea. it's unfortunate it didn't work."

"but you almost died because of me." jun-hee's hollow eyes, his trembling lips, the pain in his face when they lay upon yoon-seo's grief stricken form.

jun-hee smiles, reaching over and patting your shoulder in a comforting manner, "please don't think that way. i'm alive now, aren't i? let's just focus on the future, okay?"

you study his expression, searching for a hint of uncertainty, a slip in the truth. but jun-hee wasn't lying. his second chance has changed him, and you no longer saw the defeated boy begging to die. you find yourself nodding in agreement, finally quieting your sobs to several soft sniffles.

yoon-seo suddenly rushes out of the room, slamming her body against the wall and bracing her hands upon it. blinking in bewilderment, you, jun-hee and jung-won rush over, patting the girl's back as she breathes heavily into the air.

jung-won grimaces, "let's go. the smell of blood makes me want to puke."

yoon-seo pushes herself away from the wall, composed now as she turns around to face your group, "seung-bin...he was stabbed a lot of times by a knife. why take things that far?"

"don't talk about that. no one wants to know." jung-won chastises.

"no, yoon-seo is right. it's weird. the mafia didn't take it that far with everyone else. whoever killed him hated him," you pause, glancing around the space. still empty. stepping closer to yoon-seo, you lower your voice to a soft whisper, "by the way, i should mention..." yoon-seo looks at you curiously. you motion for her to follow.

you take her to the snack bar, crouching down and picking up the axe and jacket you had previously hidden. the bloody objects lay in your arms, unbearably heavy to hold, "we found it this morning. outside the snack bar."

yoon-seo's eyes widen, stepping closer to inspect the green windbreaker, "is that kyung-jun's?"

"did he kill seung-bin?" jung-won asks.

you shake your head, "no, he was framed. isn't it obvious? why would both jin-a and kyung-jun have compromising evidence against them for the same murder? whoever killed seung-bin is trying to get at least one of them executed tonight."

"and they'll probably kill whoever doesn't get voted next." yoon-seo realizes.

her words cause dread to pool in your stomach, making you feel sick. if you don't figure it out soon, kyung-jun could die tonight. the thought of it, of kyung-jun's lifeless form beside your body, the fire of him blown out, it's almost enough to make it feel as if the entire world is falling apart.

-

gathered in the cafeteria, there's a tense silence suffocating the air. kyung-jun's green windbreaker lays on the table, right next to the bloody axe, and although it hasn't been brought to attention yet, everyone's minds are on the objects, sneaking the boy skeptical looks.

from beside you, jun-hee breaks the silence, addressing a different concern regarding the events of last night, "about yesterday, i had no choice but to lie. i'm sorry for deceiving you. i'm actually a citizen," jun-hee leans forward slightly, bowing his head in gratitude, "i don't know who the doctor is, but thank you."

the doctor. you still haven't solved that mystery. with everything that's been going on, it simply slipped your mind. internally, you're grateful that they used their ability to save jun-hee. perhaps they also recognized the sincerity in his actions. 

"hey, you coming back to life is a separate matter." kyung-jun snaps, motioning with one hand towards the table, and thus the objects in the center, "someone is trying to frame me."

"and how do we know it's not actually you?" so-mi asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

kyung-jun scowls at her accusation, "why would i be stupid enough to leave it out for everyone to see?"

"besides, kyung-jun hasn't worn that jacket in two days." you reason. if you remembered correctly, he took it off sometime between voting for woo-ram and locking him in the broadcasting room. it hasn't been seen since. you assumed he left it in the room and forgot to get it back.

"right. and the axe is weird," yoon-seo stares at the contents on the table, lost in thought, the gears turning in her brilliant mind, "seung-bin's injuries were precise. axes are typically messy. it couldn't have been the murder weapon."

"but who would frame kyung-jun?" mi-na asks.

so-mi snorts, "who wouldn't?"

despite her snarky retort, everyone's eyes drift towards jin-a, who has been silent this entire time, anxiously biting at his fingernails. he glances up when he notices the sudden attention, trembling in fear, "it wasn't me. when i woke up i found him dead."

"you said it was just you and him, right? did you see anything unusual?" yoon-seo questions.

jin-a drops his hand in exasperation, "i don't know. the mafia put blood on me on purpose when i was asleep. i was too freaked out in the morning to look."

his words lead you nowhere, only back to square one. you sigh, leaning back in your chair and running your fingers through your hair anxiously. this isn't going anywhere. you had hoped jin-a could provide more information that would point you towards the culprit, especially considering your current lack of evidence. of course, there was always kyung-jun's police skill, but even if he used it, who would you choose? and if they turned out to be mafia, how could you prove it? you didn't feel like having a repeat of last time with woo-ram.

you reach back towards the table behind you, curling your fingers around your bottle of water. swiftly, you unscrew the cap and take several large gulps, immediately pulling it back. a frown forms on your lips, inspecting the clear water. weird. why does it taste funny?

faintly, you can hear jin-a and kyung-jun arguing. you're not quite sure what about. maybe they were pointing fingers again. what you're focused on is the faint itch in your mouth, starting at the roof of it, spreading across your gums. your frown deepens, and you examine the water once more, searching for any abnormalities. there wasn't anything wrong with it. just plain water. the itch intensifies, so you press your tongue against the roof of your mouth, massaging it to relieve the feeling. the itching persists. was it a placebo effect? you got that sometimes, normally when you were paranoid about something containing peanuts. it usually ended up being a false alarm. was this the case? you take another sip of water.

the bottle slips from your hands and drops to the floor, spilling across the surface. the fighting abruptly stops, everyone turning to stare incredulously at you. trembling, your hands go up to your neck, your breaths growing quicker and quicker with each puff of air released from your lungs. suddenly, it was very hard to breathe, and your face felt like it was burning from the inside out.

yoon-seo looks at you in concern, "what is it? what's wrong?"

you shake your head, opening your mouth to speak, but the swelling in your throat is cutting off your airways. you can't breathe. you can't-

yoon-seo is calling out your name as you stand up. you take a shaky step forward, only for your knees to buckle and for your entire body to crash towards the floor. your hands don't leave your throat as you continuously gasp for breath, tears running down your face.

"what's wrong with her?" mi-na cries.

kyung-jun swears, rushing over and crouching down beside you, "shit, she's having an allergic reaction."

"what?" yoon-seo asks, mimicking his action of lowering her body to where you lay on the ground.

kyung-jun looks up at the girl, his face tight with tension, "quick! where's her EpiPen?"

"she keeps it in her pockets!" jun-hee yells, pushing people aside as he takes the empty space beside you.

kyung-jun pats your skirt down, finding a hard object in your right pocket. he reaches his hand in and pulls out your EpiPen. without wasting a second, he takes it out of the case and lifts his arm, only to get stopped by yoon-seo's fingers around his wrist.

"wait, do you know how to use that?"

kyung-jun doesn't answer, harshly shrugging her off. he lifts up his arm once more, hesitating for only a moment before bringing the sharp end down on your thigh.

you gasp, feeling the slightest pain, but you can feel the relief instantly in your throat. your breaths slow down, and you gratefully gulp down air, dropping your hands by your side. kyung-jun relaxes, breathing out a sigh of relief. dazed, your eyes search for his face in the crowd of people above you, burning it into your memory once you spot it.

as your breaths even out, exhaustion overcomes your body, and you blink slowly, fighting to remain awake. kyung-jun notices immediately, the tension in his face returning as he leans down and lightly slaps your cheeks.

"hey, keep your eyes open." he demands. you do your best to listen, focusing your attention on the boy above you.

"what did she have a reaction to? she wasn't eating anything, was she?" jun-hee inquires.

yoon-seo picks up the discarded water bottle, holding it up, "she just had a drink of this."

kyung-jun snatches it from her hands, inspecting it. he lets out a curse, "someone must have laced it. who gave this to her?" no one answers, averting their eyes and shuffling their feet. the sight of their silence causes kyung-jun's anger to rise, "fuck! she almost died and you bastards can't come clean?!"

"let's take her to the infirmary for now. she ingested it, so the reaction might come back. we can monitor her condition there and figure out who did this," jun-hee leans down towards you, calling out your name softly, "can you stand?"

you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. without a word, kyung-jun scoots closer, putting his arms under your knees and placing a hand on your back. he lifts you up effortlessly, the feeling of the ground disappearing causing your fingers to shoot to his chest, curling around the fabric, feeling the warmth. you watch his face the entire journey to the infirmary, never straying from his features even after you're placed gently on the bed.

jun-hee approaches, handing over another EpiPen to kyung-jun, "here. in case she gets worse."

kyung-jun looks down at his outstretched hand, then back up at the presidents face. he narrows his eyes at him, suspicious, maybe even a little surprised. jun-hee was trusting kyung-jun. he was putting your life in his hands. he takes it.

as the boy settles into a chair beside your bed, na-hee's timid voice fills the air, "how could this happen?"

"was it the mafia?" mi-na questions, glancing around.

yoon-seo bites worriedly at her bottom lip, "but why would the mafia want to kill her?"

"because of me." kyung-jun's words cut through the air. all around, classmates turn their attention towards the boy with blank stares, confusion creasing their eyes. he leans back in his seat, "don't tell me you guys are this dense. think about it. they kill seung-bin. frame jin-a and me. the mafia is after my entire group."

"but what does she have to do with that? if it's because of hate, wouldn't they leave her alone? she hasn't done anything to anyone." jung-won reasons, not quite understanding the connection.

kyung-jun's eyes drift to your bedridden form. his face is still, but there's something hidden behind the calm expression. something softer. it creeps into his voice as he speaks in a low tone, "they know what she means to me."

you hold onto kyung-jun's words, the weight they hold. they know what she means to me. what am i to you kyung-jun? look me in the eyes and tell me.

"could we find the mafia based on what they know about her? like her peanut allergy? or her connection to kyung-jun?" na-hee asks.

jun-hee shakes his head," won't work. everyone in the class knew about her allergy."

"and thanks to so-mi not minding her own business, everyone knows about us, too." kyung-jun mutters bitterly.

so-mi swears at him, "that water came from the snack bar didn't it? whose to say you didn't lace it?"

the chair screeches across the floor as he gets up, stepping intimidatingly towards the girl, "i didn't fucking try to kill her."

ever the peacemaker, yoon-seo steps between the two, pushing them back, "stop it. first, we need to find out who killed seung bin. i'm sure the same person is behind all of this. we'll reconvene at eleven when we have more evidence, and then we'll vote."

kyung-jun and so-mi glare at each other, mimicking each other's expression of sharp eyes and scowling lips. eventually, however, and surprising the entire room, kyung-jun is the first to back down, stepping back and slumping into his previous seat. so-mi turns away, storming out of the room, followed by the rest of your classmates. jun-hee lingers by the door, but once it becomes apparent that kyung-jun has no plans to leave, turns around and disappears from sight.

when they're gone, you turn your head towards kyung-jun, studying his expression. he leans forward in his seat, head hanging, his palms clasped together. he stares determinedly at the floor. his foot taps restless against the ground, his fingers flexing nervously. you notice the slightest hint of fear along his eyes, tightening the muscles of his jaw.

"kyung-jun." you croak out softly.

he lifts up his head.

"thank you. for saving my life," you swallow thickly, your expression softening as they rest on his figure, "you're a good person."

kyung-jun flinches at your words, shifting his attention back towards the ground, "you're wrong."

"and how would you know?" he doesn't answer, so you persist, desperate for him to hear you, to understand you, "i know what i feel. what i see. and when i look at you, i see a good heart."

for a moment, kyung-jun looks physically pained by your words, as if they caused him great suffering. tentatively, you reach out your hand and take his own, curling your fingers gently around his palm. he glances at the motion, but he still doesn't say anything, barely shifting in his position.

you lay like that for a while, his warmth soothing you, his soft breathing lulling you to sleep. before you know it, your eyes are closing, and you drift away.

-

despite being asleep, your body can't quite seem to shake off the feeling that someone is watching you.

a figure, lurking in the corner, staring at your sleeping, defenseless form. there's no one around to notice. no one around to stop them. 

footsteps echo down the hall, followed by a clatter, the sound of something dropping to the ground. you snap your eyes open, sitting up in bed, rapidly glancing around the room in search of the sound. it's silent, no signs of life other than your own currently present, not even kyung-jun's. despite what your eyes told you though, you couldn't ignore the prickling at the back of your neck, the goosebumps along your arms. someone was here. you know it, feeling it deep within your bones. but who?

an object catches your eye, laying abandoned on the floor. slowly, you place your feet on the ground and cross the room, crouching down to pick it up. headphones.

don't these belong to da-bum? was he here? but why?

a figure approaches the doorway, stopping in their tracks at the sight of you awake. you meet kyung-jun's puzzled eyes, and you find yourself mimicking the expression, but for very different reasons. in his hands he holds a basket, filled with snacks and drinks from the snack bar. did he get those for you? your heart skips a beat inside your chest, a sort of fondness taking over the fear you felt earlier.

"you're awake." kyung-jun states simply, his eyes drifting down towards the headphones in your hands. you follow his gaze, promptly folding the device and putting them into your skirt pocket. you'd deal with it later.

"i thought i heard something. is that for me?" you ask, nodding your head towards the food.

instead of responding, kyung-jun walks over, reaching in and pulling out an orange container. mango flavored milk. he unscrews the cap, holding it out for you, "drink."

you comply, taking it from his hands, your fingers brushing briefly against his own. you hide a smile as you take a small sip, "you know, this is my favorite flavor."

kyung-jun lifts up an eyebrow at that, wondering where the conversation was heading.

"i've never told you that." you continue.

he tilts his head, eyeing you suspiciously, "so?"

"you notice things about me. and you remember them," you mirror the motion of his head, grinning, "that makes you a good person. a considerate one."

kyung-jun lets out a scoff, glancing away, "you're still on about that?"

"yes. until you believe me."

"and what if i don't?"

you shrug, taking another sip of your drink, "don't be so sure of yourself. i can be persuasive."

kyung-jun slowly lets a grin curl his lips. it's amazing, the way a genuine smile looks on him. it softens every inch of his face, relaxes his entire body. i did that. i made him smile. your own grin widens, warmth blooming in your chest.

suddenly, everything shatters. piece by piece, your world steadily falls apart.

the alarm ringing in your ears is so loud, so unexpected, it makes your entire body jump. trembling, you pull your phone out of your pocket.

CHA YU-JUN HAS DIED. CHA YU-JUN WAS THE DOCTOR. ALL PARTICIPANTS, PLEASE IDENTIFY THE MAFIA AND BEGIN TO VOTE.

the doctor. cha yu-jun was the doctor. it repeats in your head, over and over again, the words never changing, never altered, not even by the dying hope in your heart wishing that it wasn't true.

"cha yu-jun...is dead?" you repeat numbly.

your heart drops down to your stomach, sitting there. you share a look with kyung-jun. his smile is long gone, replaced by the hard set of his jaw. your phone vibrates in your hands, urging you to glance down at the screen and read the new message that popped up.

YOU CAN SELECT 1 PARTICIPANT TO USE YOUR HEAL SKILL. THE SELECTED PARTICIPANT WILL BE PROTECTED FROM MAFIA'S ATTACKS. YOU CAN REVIVE SOMEONE WHO WAS VOTED FOR AND EXECUTED.

your skill. with yu-jun dead, your role has now been upgraded to the doctor. you spare another glance at kyung-jun, who is running his fingers through his head, swearing beneath his breath. your hands shake as you press your skill tab, selecting his name.

48 HOURS HAVE NOT YET PASSED SINCE THE LAST USED HEAL.

what?

you try again, and again, and again, but the same message pops up, a cruel reminder. the realization finally dawns upon you, making your entire body go cold. yu-jun used it on jun-hee last night. yu-jun used it yesterday, and for some foolish, unexplainable reason, his debts have been passed on to you.

your phone slips out of your hands, clattering onto the floor.

"fuck. do you think it was the mafia?" kyung-jun pulls you away from the chaos of your thoughts, and you swallow down the lump in your throat to respond.

"most likely. but i don't understand. it's daytime. why would..."

"they tried to kill you during the day time. it's no surprise they'd go after him, especially if they knew he was the doctor."

still, it was cruel. how could one of your classmates target yu-jun in broad daylight? why didn't they just wait until the night came? why risk being seen when everyone was awake?

something wasn't right, but no matter how hard you thought about it, you couldn't figure it out.

another message comes through your phone, this time from the group chat. you reach down for the device, holding it once more in your hands. a quick glance reveals jung-won's name and her curt message urging everyone to gather outside in the front. assuming that's where yu-jun was killed, you numbly follow kyung-jun through the building to the meet up spot.

when you arrive, everyone is gathered near the lines of the game arena. hesitantly, you approach, a shocked gasp immediately being pulled from your lips at the sight that greets you. yu-jun is on the other side of the line, his head bloody, smashed repeatedly at his temple. a rock lays right next to his hands, dripping blood. the sight of it makes you sick.

"did someone kill him? the mafia?" na-hee trembles, her hands pressed against her face, her eyes dripping tears.

yoon-seo shakes her head, "no. there weren't any signs of struggle. he must have broken the rules."

na-hee slowly looks over at the girl, "but why would he do that?"

"someone must have pushed him," jung-won determines, pointing towards the rock, "that would explain the lack of defensive wounds. as long as they made sure yu-jun stepped outside of the lines, yu-jun would've done the rest of the work himself. they must have figured out he was the doctor and wanted him dead."

her reasoning made sense, and you would agree that it was entirely possible. the scene plays in your mind. yu-jun being led outside to talk. the murderer pushing him outside the boundary, simply watching as yu-jun's mind changes, no longer his own. he would pick up a sharp rock and hit himself in the head with the jagged end, repeatedly until his body hit the ground. he wouldn't even make a sound.

would that be your fate too?

no. your gut told you that wasn't the case. something else happened here. maybe it had nothing to do with the mafia at all.

yoon-seo steps towards the end of the line, crouching down and inspecting his body from her far off position. she cranes her neck, taking in the sight of his fallen form. while she does so, you step away, approaching a different figure lingering by the edge of the crowd.

da-bum looks startled at the sight of you, his eyes darting around as if afraid to meet your eyes. although confused by his skittish personality, you reach into your pockets and hand the headphones over.

"i found these in the infirmary. they belong to you, right?"

da-bum's eyes widen, and he quickly snatches the device away, "y-yes. thank you. i must have left them in there earlier."

"oh, i see." you drop your hand, hesitating. neither of you move, the atmosphere tense and awkward. but you have to know, otherwise it'll eat you up from the inside, "by the way, did you come visit me while i was asleep?"

once again, da-bum's eyes widen, a sliver of panic flashing in his eyes before disappearing completely, "n-no, i didn't. with kyung-jun in there..." he trails off, and for a moment you feel sorry for him, remembering his distaste for the boy. his fear. it's almost enough to make you forget about the encounter completely. maybe you were just being paranoid. someone did try to kill you after all.

but you could've sworn da-bum left with his headphones on before you fell asleep.

when yoon-seo is finally done taking photos, you find yourselves gathered in the cafeteria. you're in similar positions from the first meeting, only this time your chair is pulled right next to kyung-jun's. it's quiet for several moments, the news of yu-jun's death still sinking in.

finally, mi-na lets out a frustrated breath, the sound of her paranoia cutting through the air, "the mafia have gone insane! two murders in one day, and one attempted one?"

"they might be getting desperate." you murmur. why else would they start killing so many people in one day? are they perhaps on a time limit? or are you close to figuring out who is apart of their ranks, and they grew afraid? 

"but still...this is too much." na-hee lets out a quiet sniffle, no doubt starting another round of fresh tears.

eun-chan sits up suddenly, "hey, i just remembered. if yu-jun was the doctor, that means the nurse has his abilities now, right? so we aren't completely doomed."

na-hee shoots him an incredulous look, "how can you say that? someone just died, and you're thinking about that?"

eun-chan holds up his hands in surrender. from across the room, another voice speaks up, this one belonging to da-bum, "we were all with someone when the murder happened, right?"

murmurs of agreement erupt, everyone stating their alibis. so-mi speaks up, the ghost of a smirk curling her pink lips.

"don't lie kyung-jun."

he lazily slides his eyes over to her own, irritation building steadily on his face, "what?"

"i saw you. you were walking in the hallways a little bit before yu-jun died."

kyung-jun scoffs, smiling at her in disbelief, "i was getting food you crazy bitch."

"kyung-jun was with me the entire time. in the infirmary." you reaffirm. so-mi lifts up an eyebrow. this time, a smirk really does lift up the corners of her mouth. somehow, you get the feeling that her attacks on kyung-jun is not a coincidence.

"the whole time? are you sure about that? when you were asleep, how could you be sure he was there?"

yeon-woo, a boy on the pudgier side with large, black glasses, lets out a gasp, "yeah! she has a point!"

kyung-jun rolls his eyes, "you guys really are dumb. haven't we gone over this? remember woo-ram? how the hell could i be the mafia? why would i attack my own-" he stops abruptly, clearing his throat and shifting back in his seat. despite pretending to be relaxed about the conversation, you can see the tension in kyung-jun's posture, the way he avoids your eyes. curiosity lingers in the back of your mind.

so-mi abruptly stands up, holding up her phone and tapping away at the screen, "let's just vote him out already. he's caused enough trouble for us anyways."

no one moves. no one makes a sound. at the lack of agreement, so-mi looks around, blinking her eyes in disbelief.

the girl laughs, "hey, don't act like you guys suddenly like him. you may let him do whatever he wants, but i know you talk shit about him behind his back. da-bum!" the boy jumps in his seat, "he bullied you for years! vote him out!"

you find yourself on your feet faster than you can think, "don't act like you're so righteous so-mi."

she considers you for a moment, looking you up and down, perhaps sizing up the amount of threat you pose. she eventually glances away, tapping at her phone once more, "whatever. he'd be better gone."

before she can vote, you reach over and snatch her phone out of her hand.

so-mi narrows her eyes at you, rage flickering in her brown eyes, "yah! give me my phone back."

you step closer to her, the seriousness in your expression causing her smile to falter and to unconsciously take a step back, "i'm sick of you." you seethe, glancing up and looking into each and every face in the room. it's a strange feeling, the way your temper rises, simmering beneath your skin. you're not used to showing your emotions so openly like this, but at the moment, with kyung-jun's life in danger, you don't push it away, "i'm sick of all of you! you guys are so quick to judge, labeling kyung-jun as bad and giving him no opportunities to be good. how unfair is that? he's human too, you know. he wans to live just as badly as the rest of us. don't you think he deserves that? huh?"

everyone is quiet. you realize then that you're breathing heavily, your face flushed in anger. releasing a huff, your fingers tighten around the phone in your hand before throwing it across the floor.

so-mi's eyes follow the movement. she stands still for a moment, blinking in disbelief, trailing her eyes from the device to your face. she lets out a laugh, "you crazy bitch."

SLAP.

the pain lingers, even after so-mi removes her hand from your cheek. you blink slowly, your hands reaching up to press against the skin, shock consuming your entire body. gasps are released from each corner of the room before going quiet once more, watching the scene unfold. calmly, you straighten your posture and face so-mi head on, not saying a word as you regard the girl before you.

fine. if she wanted to play this game, then you'll play, too.

the next couple seconds feels like a blur. you're vaguely aware of your body rushing forward, of your fingers curling around so-mi's hair and latching on. the girl screams, pulling at your own strands, the pain erupting almost immediately as a result. you're shoving each other around, nails finding purchase on any bit of skin it can reach, pulling at the sensitive roots of hair. you wanted to hurt her, for her to feel the pain she has caused to so many people in this room. to yoon-seo, to jun-hee, to na-hee, to you. 

before you know it, a pair of arms are wrapped around your stomach, pulling you away from the still screeching girl. you flail around for a bit, struggling to break free, but at the sight of so-mi being held back by jun-hee, you realize the fight is over. you drop your arms, breathing heavily, feeling exhausted.

"go on!" so-mi screams, still struggling in jun-hee's grip, "be kyung-jun's little bitch! he'll leave you as soon as he's bored of you!"

kyung-jun releases you and crosses the room, stopping before so-mi. she immediately quiets down, her features rapidly forming into fear.

the corners of kyung-jun's lips quirk up into a smirk. he leans down, leveling his face with her own, "i think this has gone on long enough, huh?"

her eyebrows pull together in confusion, hesitancy laced in her bitter words, "what are you talking about?"

"i know you're mafia," kyung-jun states simply, straightening so he can face the room, "and i can prove it."

your eyes widen, dread pooling in your stomach, settling there uncomfortably. no. surely he wouldn't. surely kyung-jun wouldn't risk his life just to get rid of so-mi. surely nothing in this world meant more to him than staying alive. you grip the sleeve of his uniform, panicked, "what are you doing? kyung-jun stop. if you do that then-"

kyung-jun just smiles, shrugging you off. you're forced to watch as he pulls out his phone. presses her name. on the screen, her occupation shows up, causing a victorious smile to form on his lips. he turns the device around, "look. my hunch was right."

her eyes quickly scan the screen, her entire body freezing at the sight. people start stepping closer to look at the phone.

KIM SO-MI IS MAFIA.

jun-hee drops his hands, stepping away. the girl frantically shakes her head, "no. no! he's lying. i'm not mafia! i'm not!"

"you killed seung-bin?" yoon-seo whispers, the grief on her face so clear it causes an ache to develop in the space of your ribs, "and yu-jun? it was you?"

"no! no it wasn't me! i didn't kill either of them!" she cries.

eun-chan stomps over to the girl, shoving her back, "you killed eun-ha! if it weren't for you, she wouldn't have died! how can you do that if you're human?!"

"i had no choice!" so-mi screams, causing the room to go silent. her entire body shakes, and she clenches her hands into tight fists, "i just wanted to survive. why? you wouldn't have done the same thing?" she pauses, and angry tears slip down her face, "i didn't want to become the freaking mafia either!"

eun-chan scoffs, "stop with your nonsense. does it not matter as long as you survive? what about us? do we deserve to die? do we?!"

so-mi sniffs, shaking her head ever so slightly, "i didn't kill anyone. the other guys killed them. what happened to them has nothing to do with me. jun-hee!" she steps over to him, reaching down for his hands and holding them in her own. she peers up at him, pleading, "please. you have to believe me."

jun-hee's expression hardens. it becomes so eerily calm, a scarier version of the empty look he had last night. he pushes her away, looking down upon so-mi's pitiful face, "take responsibility."

around you, people start pulling out their phones and voting for her. so-mi is full on sobbing now, glancing around the room, trying to get them to stop. she runs up to mi-na, trying to pull the phone out of her hand, only to get shoved off. da-bum steps up and pushes her to the ground.

she glances up at the boy, something unspoken passing between them. you watch the exchange with confusion, especially when the girl allows a smile to curl her lips. she laughs mockingly, "you're all fooled. do you know who the mafias are?" she opens her mouth to speak, but stops suddenly, a choking sound coming from her throat. she reaches a hand up, the sound persisting, trying to lodge itself out. suddenly, she leans forward, and blood bursts from her lips.

YOU CAN'T REVEAL THE IDENTITIES OF OTHER MAFIAS TO CITIZENS.

so-mi's lips tremble, her eyes glassy as she stares up at each of your faces. a part of you understands her situation. how scary it must've been to be assigned a role that forces you to kill your classmates. your friends. but it was no excuse. you pull out your phone and press her name.

yoon-seo is one of the last people remaining to vote so-mi out. as she pulls out her phone, so-mi scrambles towards the girl, reaching out a trembling hand. yoon-seo's face twists in pain, "why did you do that? you brought it on yourself," she ignores her cry for help and presses the button on her phone.

so-mi sits back on the floor, her sobs echoing in the space. with faces of disgust, everyone leaves the room, and you hesitate only for a moment before following kyung-jun out.

only one thing is on your mind as you enter the snack bar. you stand in the center of the room, unchanging, listening to kyung-jun close the door behind you and let out an exhausted breath.

"finally that fucking bitch is gone. she was starting to piss me off."

you're silent for a moment, his words going in one ear and out the other. trembling, you pull out your phone and press your skill tab, pressing on kyung-jun's name.

48 HOURS HAVE NOT YET PASSED SINCE THE LAST USED HEAL.

48 HOURS HAVE NOT YET PASSED SINCE THE LAST USED HEAL.

48 HOURS HAVE NOT YET PASSED-

"fuck! why won't this thing work?!" you scream, throwing your phone on the ground. something wet slips down your face, and you realize they are tears. one by one, they fall, and upon acknowledging them, they never seem to stop. 

why would the game give you this ability when you can't even save the one person you love? was it some sick joke? are the creators laughing at your face? because of your incompetence, kyung-jun is going to die. he's going to die he's-

you swiftly turn around, marching up to kyung-jun and shoving him back. he blinks, bewildered by your actions, but you don't give him time to recover as you approach him once more, banging your fists against his chest.

his hands immediately reach up and wrap around your wrists, preventing you from continuing your attacks, "why the fuck are you hitting me?"

"you idiot!" you cry, trying to pull free. he tightens his grip, "why did you do that? why did you reveal your role? now the mafia know and they're gonna kill you! do you hear me? they'll kill you!"

something shifts in kyung-jun's demeanor, his grip slackening ever so slightly. he looks down at you, the emotion on his face almost unreadable. but you catch it, just a slight hint of it. defeat. kyung-jun has accepted his fate.

no, don't look at me like that. you're supposed to fight kyung-jun. that's what you do. you fight until you can't anymore.

"what does it matter? at least we caught another damn mafia." he mutters.

"and what about me, huh? did you think about that?" you rip your hands away, your sobs slipping away more freely now. you reach up and desperately try wiping them away, trying to ignore the hollow space where your heart lays, the deep ache inside your ribs, "don't tell me you still haven't figured it out kyung-jun! you don't get to just make me fall in love with you only to die in the end!"

kyung-jun freezes at that. you drop your hands, breathing heavily. the air is thick with tension, something hanging in the air, begging to be said. you wait for the moment kyung-jun speaks, for a shift in his expression, some sort of telltale sign that reveals his thoughts about your confession. but he doesn't say anything. he just stands there, impossibly still, staring at you like he can't grasp the words you just said.

"say something goddammit!" you shout, the frustration building when the silence persists, "yell at me! tell me i'm stupid! don't just- don't just stand there!"

finally, kyung-jun moves. he slowly steps towards you, his fingers reaching for his front pocket. you watch the movement, slightly confused, examining the way he pulls out a small object, hidden in his hands. he looks down. reaches for your hand, unfurling your fingers so your palm faces up. then, he places the object on top, the sight of it making your breath catch in your throat.

KO KYUNG-JUN.

the letters of his name are as clear as day, stitched with black letters over a white rectangle. emotion clogs inside your throat, and the tears rush down your face once more, curling your fingers around the nametag protectively. in korean culture, it is customary to give the person you like their nametag.

the person you like.

"that day in the rain."

you glance up, meeting his eyes.

kyung-jun scans your face, taking you in, the corners of his eyes creased with something both pained and tender. he lets out a shaky breath, "you looked at me like...i was someone worth looking at."

because you are. because i would gladly lay my eyes upon you if not to take you in your entirety. how wonderful and scary it is for someone to see you. to really look at you. were you scared that day kyung-jun? that day in the rain, when i stripped you bare and saw something you kept hidden. 

will you let me see you now?

your body moves on its own. your feet close the remaining distance between you, your hands reaching up and grabbing his face. for a brief moment, the split of a second, you see kyung-jun's eyes widen in surprise before you pull him down and catch his lips.

here's what you learn about kyung-jun as you kiss him.

he responds quickly. though he's initially caught off guard, it doesn't take long for him to reciprocate the motions. pushing and pulling, like waves on the beach, the both of you consuming each other entirely.

he is not a slow kisser. he does not take his time. his movements are desperate, rushed, as if he's fighting with the clock, trying to take as much of you as possible before it runs out.

and he's bold. while your fingers slip from his face towards his hair, curling around the strands, you feel his own hands grab onto your waist, gripping the delicate flesh to pull you closer to his body. the feeling of his warmth pressed against your bare skin, his soft breaths against your cheek, it urges you to tighten your fingers, pulling a soft grunt from his throat. his movements growing even more rushed, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin, and the sound alone causes something to stir in your stomach, for your heart to beat rapidly against your ribcage. you pull back, just slightly, so you can see his face.

kyung-jun slowly opens his eyes, a hazy, distracted look reflected in them. soft pants leave his lips, which are parted and bruised, a lovely sight. the rest of his face is flushed red, and when you slowly remove your hands and slide them down to his neck, the strands stick up in different directions, adding to the disheveled look.

oh, i want to unravel him completely.

his eyes flicker down to your lips, focused intently there, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows thickly.

"do you understand now?" he mumbles against your skin.

instead of speaking, you nod your head softly, a barely noticeable tip of your head. i think i could understand you thoroughly, piece by piece, if you give me the opportunity to learn.

slowly, one of his hands reach up and cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer, and you let him press his lips against your own once more. they mold together perfectly, his breaths now yours, and you take it in greedily. oh, how badly you want him. how selfish you feel to need him entirely, flesh and bone, a desperate ache in your ribs. you press your hand flat against his chest, feeling the rapid rhythm of his heart. THUMP THUMP THUMP. here he is in the palm of your hands, pliant beneath you, taking him in, but even now, you still feel as if you don't know everything.

and the thought of that, the possibility that you will never get to have him entirely, it scares you. you don't want it.

you gently push kyung-jun back, and he looks down into your face, the slightest hint of confusion reflected in his eyes. without a word, you reach up and brush a strand of hair away from his face, press your fingers against his cheek, holding him there. something in him wavers, leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a split second.

time. all you need is time.

"kyung-jun, do you trust me?"

-

the note sits heavy in your pocket as you stand outside the door, hesitating. you managed to lift up your hand and form a fist, but you can't bring yourself to knock. what if they aren't there? what if they refuse to help you? the possibilities run rampant in your mind.

then, you feel it. a small brush of kyung-jun's fingers against your own, a gentle reminder of his presence. you take in a shaky breath, bringing your fist to the door.

a voice calls out from the other side, granting you permission to come in. you turn the handle and open it halfway, finding jun-hee, jung-won and yoon-seo inside the room.

yoon-seo blinks at you in surprise, "oh, hey. what is it?"

you glance to your left, stepping aside to allow room for the boy to approach. at the sight of kyung-jun's figure, the three of them grow quiet, staring in bewilderment. they glance between the two of you, trying to figure out the meaning behind your visit.

you clear your throat, "can we come in? i need to discuss something with you."

jung-won and jun-hee share a glance, their reluctance apparent in their faces. you start to think that maybe this was a bad idea. that you should figure something out on your own, but yoon-seo speaks up, her gentle smile causing you to sag in relief, "of course."

you and kyung-jun step inside, closing the door behind you. you sit down at the table, legs folded neatly beneath you, waiting for the spot beside you to get filled. when it doesn't, you glance up at kyung-jun, who stands awkwardly to the side, hands in his pockets, staring at the space warily. you send him a reassuring smile, patting the empty space, and he finally sits down.

once he's situated, you return your attention to the three friends across the table, "i need to talk to you about something."

yoon-seo adjusts herself, getting closer, "what?"

you take a deep breath, reciting the words you practiced earlier in your head, "the mafia are going to execute kyung-jun tonight," saying it out loud, it makes the future feel more real, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. you ignore it, continuing on, "once he's gone, finding the rest of the mafia will be difficult since his police skill will no longer be of use. but we can probably get one more mafia if we play our cards right."

jun-hee stares at you in confusion, "what do you mean?"

"we set the mafia up. they've been playing mind games with us from the start. it's about time we even out the playing field. make it so when they attack kyung-jun tonight, we can find evidence in the morning."

"and how do we do that?" jung-won asks.

jun-hee responds to her inquiry, "actually, i might have an idea for that. leave it to me."

yoon-seo sets her eyes on kyung-jun, who has remained quiet the entire time, "kyung-jun, are you okay with this?"

the boy leans back on his hands, tilting his head towards the ceiling, letting out a harsh breath. he's pretending to be unaffected, but you know better. you can see the tension in his hands, the way they tremble, betraying his emotions, "if it means catching those damn mafia, i don't care. but i'll kill you guys if you fail."

her expression softens, and she smiles gently in his direction, "i'm sorry it had to go like this." she spares a glance at you, but you make sure to ignore it. you fear that if you meet her eyes, see her soft, worried gaze, you'll find yourself breaking down once more.

you and kyung-jun rise to your feet. you bow your head slightly, "thank you. this means a lot to me."

you turn to leave, only to pause, remembering the note still folded in your pocket. you turn back around, going up to yoon-seo. she watches you in confusion as you take her hand and press the slip of paper into her palms. she glances down at it, her puzzlement growing.

"what is it?" she asks, searching your eyes for the answer.

you curl her fingers over the note, hiding it from view, "a backup plan. open it tomorrow. you'll know when."

she nods in understanding, putting the note away into her skirt pocket. as she does so, you recall what happened about an hour prior with kyung-jun when you were putting the plan in place.

"you sure about this?" kyung-jun asks, standing above you, watching you work.

you nod, finishing up the words and placing the marker down onto the table, "yes. it's the only explanation."

kyung-jun laughs darkly, shaking his head slightly, "damn that bastard. he's gotten pretty bold, huh?"

you look down at the note, reading the letters a few more times before folding it into a small square and stuffing it inside your pocket.

'da-bum poisoned me. please find a way to reveal his occupation.'

-

BA-DUM.

BA-DUM.

BA-DUM.

the sound of kyung-jun's heart beating inside his chest calms you. after jun-hee set up a paint filled air refresher in the corner near the doorway, both you and kyung-jun sit in the snack bar alone, only this time the shutters have not been pulled down. at first, yoon-seo and jun-hee had insisted you hide with them, but you refused their requests, determined to remain by kyung-jun's side.

that's how you found yourself here, curled up against his side, your ear pressed against his heart. you listened to the way it beat, counting the rhythm, feeling the steady rise of his chest each time he takes in a breath and releases it. tomorrow, i want it to beat just like this.

"what are you doing?" he murmurs, breaking the silence.

"listening to your heart." you close your eyes, releasing a soft breath, "i want to remember it."

THUMP THUMP.

his steady beats pick up in speed, faster now, and you smile, laughing softly under your breath at the way kyung-jun's body betrays him. then, faintly, you feel his fingers brush against your ear, pulling back your hair. they cradle the back of your head, and you let out another sigh, allowing him to hold you like that for a moment, savoring the gentle touch of his hand. how careful he is with his movements.

eventually, you lift up your head, your face set in determination, "tomorrow, my skill's cooldown will disappear, and i'll save you. i won't let you die." 

he stares at you, his eyes flitting across your face, a small shift twitching the corners of his lips and forming tension between the space of his brows. without a word, kyung-jun reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys, taking your hand and placing them in your palm. you stare at them, feeling the cold weight of the metal. an ache forms between your ribs.

"why are you giving me this?"

"the snack bar is the safest place in the building. if you lock the shutters, no one can get in. not even with an axe."

kyung-jun's words sink in slowly, but the realization hits you like a slap to the face. quick, sharp. you shake your head, trying to force the object back in his possession, "no, i don't want them, take them back-"

"listen to me!" kyung-jun grips your shoulders, forcing you to meet his desperate eyes, "if you don't take them, you'll die, and that is the one thing you can't do," the edges of his tone cracks. kyung-jun clenches his jaw, shaking you slightly, his voice tempering between frustration and fear, "promise me you'll use them to hide yourself." you shake your head, your refusal building on the tip of your tongue, but kyung-jun is pleading with you, a desperate man, "promise me."

oh, you understand it now. the thing that drove kyung-jun to reveal his occupation despite the danger. the one thing kyung-jun cares about more than his own life. yours.

your lips tremble as a tear slips down your face, "i promise."

he releases a breath, the tension slipping away from his body with your words alone. he releases you, leaning back against the wall, eyes slipping closed. its quiet for a while, the weight of the situation finally suffocating you both, pressing down against your chests, squeezing your lungs.

time. just more time.

you shift closer to him, reaching forward and gently peeling the bandages off his face. he doesn't flinch at all as you do so, just tracks your movements intensely with his eyes.

"they healed nicely." you mumble softly, brushing your fingers against the wounds. across the slope of his nose and the soft flesh of his cheek. they've scabbed over, and pretty soon, you wouldn't even know he got injured in the first place, "i was worried your pretty face would get ruined."

kyung-jun lets out a soft laugh, the sound ringing in your ears, causing a flutter in your chest.

slowly, kyung-jun lifts up his hand towards your neck. cautiously, as if afraid of hurting you, he brushes his own fingers against the scratch marks on the side of your throat, left behind after your fight with so-mi. he inspects the wounds, a hint of concern and anger simmering beneath his calm expression. they slip away, resting on your pulse point, and you close your eyes, feeling the rapid beat of your heart press against his fingers.

KIM SO-MI HAS BEEN EXECTUED. KIM SO-MI WAS MAFIA.

"kyung-jun."

he lifts up his eyes, and you study him more closely, taking in the sight of his face one last time. his tousled hair. the slope of his nose. the shape of his eyes, no doubt your favorite thing about him. you lean down, his eyes fluttering close as you press your lips lightly against them, one on his right, one on his left. you move up, kissing the space between his brows, smoothing out the tension always lingering there, his anger no more. you shift down, bringing attention to the scab on his nose, then the one on his cheek, prolonging the contact for a split moment longer than the others. and finally, you reach his lips, the press of them pulling a soft breath from his lungs.

kyung-jun reaches up and cradles your face in both his hands, his thumbs softly brushing the tears slipping down your cheeks. you try not to think about what will happen soon, focusing on him instead, pressing closer, consuming every part of him he gives you.

please, just give me more time. give me another second in his embrace. let me feel the warmth of his skin before it goes cold. let me memorize the exact way his face shifts, how many times his heart beats in a minute, what makes him happy.

reluctantly, you pull away for air, pressing your forehead against his, your nose brushing against his own. his breaths tickle your cheek, his fingers trembling against your jaw.

"i'll see you tomorrow, okay?" you whisper, unable to help yourself from stealing once last kiss against the tip of his nose.

you curl up beside him, resting your head on his shoulder, your hand engulfed in his warm, calloused palms. they tighten around yours, and you feel his body shaking, once again betraying what he really felt, the fear gripping his bones. you squeeze tightly, and kyung-jun returns it, gripping your hand as if his life depended on it, as if you're the only thing grounding him at the moment, keeping him tethered to the earth.

the music comes on, and you don't let go.

NIGHT HAS COME.

part [redacted].

[picklefics]

Benefits of Camping, or How to (not) Hunt Bigfoot With Your Parents

This was originally posted on Ao3, but I decided I'd see what posting on Tumblr was like for fanfiction :) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/47138986/chapters/118767895)

I already have chapters 1-5, just not gonna put em all up right now as I'm at a coffee shop and need to work on heading home.

Summary:

It could've been a great vacation. Probably. Except there's one tiny issue: Danny's parents have decided to take a break from hunting ghosts, instead supporting their fellow cryptobiologists in hunting Bigfoot. The big problem? They do find Bigfoot. And Bigfoot can talk. (...and has a PhD?)

Chapter 1: Benefit 1-New Cooking Skills

Danny’s folks are usually ghost hunters, but that doesn’t mean they don’t branch out. After all, they’d spent almost 20 years of their life studying a science practically everyone thought of as a paper house in a rainstorm. Surely one of those droplets of evidence would disprove the science as a whole.

Really? Entire beings made of one substance? Supernatural entities?

Absurd .

Maddie and Jack have a great deal of sympathy for cryptobiologists. They also have a tendency to suspect that ghosts are involved every time someone spots Bigfoot or some other being. But really, they’d be happy with either the discovery of a ghost or a new animal to dissect.

Danny, on the other hand, is not in love with either of those two discovery options. He is having a great deal of fun tormenting Jazz, who’d been forced to come along on a trip to the red cedar forests of California. He’d tried to bribe Sam and Tucker into coming along. Sam, with the lure of a new animal (maybe) to check out, and Tucker with peer pressure and lots of grilled meat. Unfortunately, after the reality check that was another fight with a new ghost named Fortuna (self-proclaimed follower of Fortuna, Goddess of Fortune and Misfortune, and with luck-related powers), they’d been forced to concede that having people at home who could fight ghosts was too important to have all three of them on a camping trip.

Thank fuck that Val wasn’t in school right now and that she’d gotten less extreme about ghosts since meeting Danielle. One day Danny might even consider telling her about him, if she doesn’t figure it out first. As a result, there are three competent ghost hunters in Amity Park who don’t actively hate ghosts while Danny is on vacation.

At any rate, Danny is trapped with a bunch of adults who are way too enthusiastic about hunting down rare animals and (in at least one case) killing and taxidermy-ing them. The guy in question keeps tracking new hunters down and showing off pictures of his living room and business, covered in eerie deer, bear, and alligator heads, among other things. There’s even a snake wrapped around a driftwood piece on the table. It reminds Danny of Skulker, and makes him consider yet again whether ghosts might be more likely to form out of these kinds of people. He’s pretty sure his parents were obsessive before they started regularly working with ectoplasm, and after?

They grew much more extreme.

And who knows? It could be due to exposure to ectoplasm, or maybe the obsessiveness causes ectoplasm to accumulate near them. He’s heard theories going both ways.

This guy, Danny could easily imagine dying and becoming a ghost.

At least he helps with setup. The camp takes a while to go up, yellow and beige tents popping up like gophers among the trees. His parents’ tent is a green dome, one of a few splashes of color in the group. Another guy sets up a big grill and a solar panel in a little clearing, one of the few places with sunlight. His incredibly buff partner totes a bag of backup coal to the grill like Mom would carry a sack of flour.

All around the area, people bring up folding chairs and situate equipment. In a big, waterproof, black container, they all put their tech away. The container is anchored with thick ropes to be absolutely certain that nothing can drag it away. It’s flash-flooding season in the area and there’s a river nearby, so they’re concerned that the container could float away, but they had wanted to make the equipment available to everyone, so they aren’t keeping it in anyone’s vehicle. 

A cage goes up towards the far west corner of the camp, away from the fire pit, because they’re worried anything they capture might be unduly frightened by said fire.

With that, a few people sign up in rotation to monitor the grill, planning to bake some potatoes and apples in the fire pit and grill weenies. It’ll be about three hours before supper, but the planning, and a snack, are needed. As the only kids present (apparently many of the others’ kids are nonexistent or at summer camps), Danny and Jazz are put on apple coring and potato poking duty involuntarily. 

Matthew Kapp is their instructor. He practically drags them to the fire pit and tells them how to make the food like he thinks they have infinite memory space for commands, no matter how long the list is.

He explains that potatoes explode when in the ashes without holes, then shows them the basic steps to prepare the food. Essentially, they’re supposed to stab the potatoes with a fork “until it feels right”, wrap them in tin foil, and then yeet them into the fire. Then they have to be surrounded by the ashes and dug out later. Jazz and Danny both work on this, quietly chattering.

Danny grins and with particular emphasis stabs a potato old enough to have green sprouts studded all over its surface. He has to use his right thumb to put enough pressure on the sides of the sprouts that they fall off. He jokes, “If I were Skulker and this potato was me, I’d be so happy right now…”

Jazz raises her eyebrows at him. “Sometimes I worry about the normalization of violence you’ve experienced, Danny.”

Danny is like 90% sure she’s saying that mostly to get on his nerves, but he’s not 100% sure. Ah, the delights of a sister who adores psychology and tormenting her little brother. He rolls his eyes. “Literally everybody in town probably has that. The school has at least one attack every week.”

Jazz retorts, “That’s really not normal.”

“Well it’s normal for me.” 

At that, Jazz changes topics. “Did you remember to bring our tent?”

Danny gives her a thumbs up.

“Great. We don’t have to listen to their snoring!” She cheers. Granted part of the reason they have the tent is because of Danny’s nightmares and occasional power use. Particularly, he’s prone to leaping out of bed and turning intangible the second he gets startled awake because of the sheer number of times ghosts have woken him up.

“Thanks for suggesting it,” Danny offers. Then he adds, “Stabbing the potatoes until it feels right is so…imprecise. How do we know when it feels right?”

Jazz groans sympathetically. “I know, right? I get it for people who’ve baked campfire potatoes before, but we’ve never done this. Mr. Kapp is a scientist, isn’t he supposed to know to be exact for beginners?”

Danny tosses his potato back and forth. “This potato better be good. It’s very hole-y now.” He sets it in the metal bowl to his right and adds, “It’s starting a cult.”

Jazz raises her eyebrows at him. “...why?”

“Holy? Y’know, like saints or whatever?”

Jazz snorts and grabs the tin foil roll. She starts unwrapping it to the familiar crumbly crackle of ripping metal, tearing off pieces big enough for each of the potatoes they’ve prepared. Danny snitches some of the squares and starts wrapping them around each potato as fast as he can. For this part, they don’t talk. The aluminum is too loud anyways. It covers speech pretty well.

After all 14 potatoes are wrapped, they toss them into the fire. Sparks flash into the sky and drift away, and one of the logs collapses into the pit with a soft thud. The white ashes have increased in number, but there aren’t many yet, so they wait to bury the potatoes in the ashes. While they wait, they move on to the apples.

Danny mixes the cinnamon and other spices together and Jazz cores the apples while grumbling about how hard it will be to work on her paper out here. She brought paper so she could handwrite some of it, but out here there isn’t any internet so the most she can do is type on her phone. She isn’t doing that because she’s worried about running out of power and not being able to call if there’s an emergency.

They both stuff the apples with the mixture and then wrap them and toss them in the fire in the same way as the potatoes but to the side. About 15 minutes later, they use sticks to roll the apples out of the fire. The potatoes are saved for later since it will be a few hours before they’re done, while the apples are served as a snack/dessert immediately. 

Having had a long drive and therefore possessing a strong craving for sweets (or any sort of snackage really), everyone swarms the apple pile and as a result only gets one each. Danny plots to sneak another apple into the fire later so he can have seconds, and Jazz wholly supports him. He forgets to eat, and she has to remind him far more often than she’d like.

After the apples are all eaten, some of the people sit down to rest (those who weren’t already asleep) and some of the others begin prowling the area, including Taxidermy Guy (Oscar Polson) and his wife Paloma.

When the two of them come back, they have a map of the area filled with markings denoting where they want to put various kinds of traps. The Polsons are the experts on trap-setting and location, and they’re responsible for deciding which places to put the traps each person brought. With the locations for each trap decided, everyone fixes the last few supper items and sits down for supper as the sun sets, mostly because there’s not enough time to set up the traps that evening.

Next Chapter:

https://www.tumblr.com/picklefics/730299785376104448/boc-chapter-2?source=share

[barnesboo1967]

Chapter 4

Series Summary: After Tyler’s last ride, he’s been lying around the house. His parents decide he needs a summer job. Lucky for him the owner of the town rodeo needs a new farm hand. But just when he thought it couldn’t no hotter the farmer’s daughter comes home from Aggie Land. Will they have a sweet summer lovin’ or will they break up in a small town

Word count: 698

Masterlist

A/N: This chapter took a turn I didn’t expect. I made it more angsty than originally planned, but I am happy with where it is going. I’m almost working on a rooster one shot that because I just have to have backstory will take longer than previously thought.

Grace was in the kitchen, trying out a new brownie recipe. She forgot how much she loved baking and cooking. Seeing as you can’t really bake or cook in a tiny dorm room. And what made it even better she got to share her newest creations with Tyler. Her favorite part of the day was when she got to take Tyler whatever she just finished making.

Maverick had just comeame home from hanging out with his friends at the lake, when he saw his sister dancing around the kitchen. Her signature old country music playing as she did so. He chuckled as she made a mess of the kitchen their mama worked so hard to keep clean. The obvious obsession with baking for a certain farmhand did not go unnoticed by the youngest Campbell.

“More treats?” Maverick said, sitting on the island of the kitchen. “Mhm, I found a new recipe on Pinterest and thought I would give it a try.” Grace said as she made her way around the kitchen. “Mmmm, how much are you going to give to Tyler?” Maverick asked, “What are you talking about?“ Grace asked, genuinely confused. “Oh come on sis, don’t think I don’t notice. The two of you spending his whole lunch on the bed of his truck. You always bring him a drink and a snack. Even a blind man could see it.” Mav said, very matter of fact. “I’m just welcoming the new guy. Dad hasn’t hired a new guy since I was a freshman in high school. I know all the other guys like they are my uncles, I just want to get to know him.” Grace said, trying to cover up her true intentions. The fact she can’t get Tyler off her mind, the fact Tyler makes her smile and blush like no one has, the fact they somehow keep getting closer to each other everyday, and the fact Tyler was getting bolder and bolder with his flirting. ”Listen sis, I’ve known you long enough to know how you get with guys. And I know it’s technically none of my business. But please be careful, I’ve known Ty for a while. I also know the trail of broken hearts that follow him. And as much as I say I hate you, I can’t watch you go through more heartbreak.”

Mav left her with those words as she waited for her brownies to cook. Grace was lost in thought cleaning dishes. What could her brother mean but ‘the trail of broken hearts that follow him’? Would Tyler break her heart? No Tyler wouldn’t do that, he wasn’t like that. Right?

It was almost 7 and Tyler hadn’t seen Grace all day. He was lucky some of the guys went out for lunch and brought back food, or else he would’ve been starving. Tyler kept catching himself looking up at the house to see if she was headed his way. He was missing her lemonade, her treats, her smile, her laugh, and pretty much everything else about her. Tyler couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way about a girl.

He knew what reputation he had in town. The heartbreaker. Leaving girls high and dry whenever he felt like it. Tyler had never denied or confirmed anything. Why should he? He never cared what anyone thought and wasn’t going to start. Tyler never thought about what his reputation could do to future relationships. He hadn’t even thought about relationships in a while. His life was rodeo, and then that was gone. He went from focusing on being the best bull rider he could be, and then that was all taken away. He hid after that, but now it was like this angel came into his life. This perfect angel who brought him treats and made him smile like no one else.

He thought about going and knocking on the front door. He thought about throwing rocks at her window, like in thoses movies she talked about. But he didn’t. He just went home, on time for once. Tyler watched as the house got smaller in his rearview mirror. He watched Grace standing on the front porch getting smaller.

[o0par0o]

Seven Days(1)

It’s a fanfic for the film Annette , a story about Annette and the conductor(rip).

This fic has 9 chapters in total. English isn’t my native language, I wrote it in Chinese originally and I'm slowly translating it into English. I'll finish the translation as soon as I can (if there are actually people reading it)(I’ll finish it anyway:’D).

My phrases have a bit of a Chinese-writing habit, so if anything sounds odd in English or you've got any thoughts about this fic, or or or if you like this fic, please let me know!

(Simon Helberg was incredibly hot in this film I love his role so much and he’s a perfect male mom😭💕)

AO3

-

Summary:

Whether you like it or not, memories and love naturally fade with time. But then, your mind may play a cruel trick, bringing them back like a tidal wave that hits you with a force even stronger than before.

---

1.Dream

She only had to lift her head to see that face, now somewhat blurred in her memory. It was a face that had been a constant throughout her childhood and adolescence, supporting her through countless moments of despair and anxiety, yet also breaking her heart—a face that was both familiar and strange.

She knew she was dreaming again. The room's lighting was the same warm yellow she remembered, a comforting glow that flowed like liquid through the space, enveloping everything in sight. The ambient sounds were distorted, as if an old tape recording was pressing against her eardrums.

Her perspective was a bit low, and the warmth against her back was deeply relaxing. Without thinking, she moved her hand up and wiggled her fingers—a hand that looked so tiny, just like when she was a kid. It felt like she was back in those days, sitting on his lap, leaning against his chest, which was not broad, but it was enough.

Annette looked up at the face she had missed so much; it was so close that if she raised her hand, she could touch it. From this angle, she first saw the slender chin, then the tightly pressed lips, the straight nose bridge, and only then could she glimpse the eyes from an obscure angle. He seemed to be reading a book, his eyelashes casting little shadows and sparkles of light as they extended from his eyelids. His face was bathed in the warm light. She couldn't resist reaching out to touch it; her small hand pressed against his chin. The beard pricked her palm, slightly itchy yet soft, convincingly real, just as she remembered.

Perhaps everything happening now is real. Perhaps she had just woken from a long and vivid nightmare. Perhaps, after all these years of trying so hard to become a mentally healthy person, the universe has decided to reward her by returning what she had lost.

Her touch drew his attention away from the book. He closed it and placed it on the coffee table, gently cupping her tiny hand against his face, smiling at her with eyes that softened from their previous focus. This look was reserved only for her.

She used to be good at reading the emotions behind people's expressions when she was just a little kid. She often secretly observed him, always noticing the sadness on his face. He would frequently stare into nothing, his eyelashes drooping, while that sadness sparkled at the corners of his eyes. She could tell he was sad, but she didn't know why. Usually, when he caught her looking, his eyes would gradually warm and become soft once more.

"Sleep well?"

At this age, she probably hadn't started speaking yet. She didn't want to frighten him, not just now. So, she just nodded, silently gazing at him, trying to etch every detail of his features into her mind. But the watery light distorted her vision, blurring her sight. She felt like crying, telling him how much she missed him, but she held back; all she wanted at that moment was to memorize his face.

"What’s wrong? Staring at me like that, did you just have a dream?"

His fingers gently massaged her brow, smoothing out the furrow. The touch was light, with the feel of calluses from playing the piano, and warmth spread from his fingertips to her forehead.

She knew she must have looked odd at that moment, her expression far from what a little girl her age typically had. But she couldn't help it. She caught his hand on her forehead, opened it, and pressed it to her cheek, feeling the lines of his palm, his warmth. She had missed this warmth for too long.

He didn't pull away, but comforted her with gentle caresses, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She snuggled into his arms, pressing against his palm, and wished he would hold her even tighter. She felt safe in his embrace, just as she had during their tours when they'd flown together, or when he'd comfort her to sleep on nights her father was out drinking. She remembered the security she felt during stormy nights when fear gripped her, and the affectionate moments when she'd asked for a cuddle simply because she wanted to be spoiled. Whenever she needed him, he was always there, his warm body enveloping her, his slender chest rising and falling with every breath. His heart beat steadily, a reassuring rhythm inside his chest.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I will never leave you, Annette.”

This was everything she cherished. Since that stormy night when her mom sunk in a shipwreck, she felt like she had been adrift in the turbulent waves, and the man who liked his drinks so much could never fulfill the role of a father. But he was there, a man with no blood relation to her, and even though he was slimmer than her mother, he gave her all the love and safety he could, like a life jacket keeping her safe.

Annette dreams of him frequently now. At night, the dreams gave her back everything she once had, then took it all away the moment she had opened her eyes. She remembered the warm yellow light, the distorted vision, the face she longed for, the prickle of his beard, the warmth of his palm, the heartbeat, and his promise never to leave.

“Liar.”

Annette whispered this and turned over to bury her face in the pillow, regretting her words as soon as they were out. Her fingers twisted together beneath the pillow. She didn’t want to blame him; it tore at her heart as if she had done something terribly wrong. It wasn’t fair to him; he hadn’t left by choice. How could it be his fault?

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry...” Her voice was barely a sigh. “I didn’t mean to blame you.”

---

tbc

[pintsizeninja]

❤️ For Ragnarok: 8, 14, 16

❤️ For Talented Voice: 16, 27

❤️For Gods in Disguise: 25, 26

Thank you so much for the ask!! I tried not to wax too poetic, but it's me, so of course this is long. 😂

Ragnarök

8. Did you cut something out of the outline or an early draft? What was it and why did you decide to cut it?

I'll copy verbatim what I wrote at the beginning of my notes where I was first planning this fic (and it also ties in a bit to question 14), so you can see just how much the fic changed in the early planning stages:

"Fic begins with Odin on the porch of the farmhouse and ends with him on the porch of the Valhalla nursing home, one year before the events of AW2"

I originally planned Ragnarök to encompass all of Odin's life, which is now split into two fics, with Rag only covering August - September 1976. Zane was an afterthought. I quickly decided to focus on Deerfest 1976 since it's such a pivotal moment in Odin and Tor's life and save everything else for the sequel (sidenote - this is most definitely not how the sequel ends either haha.) So, I cut out about 46 years of Odin's life. 😂

14. Talk about the fic's opening scene & how you approached it

I knew I wanted to use bookends with this fic, since I really love that framing device. I also wanted to introduce two crucial plot points early on: Odin's ravens Memory and Thought, and Odin and Tor's shared psychic ability. I liked the idea of Odin just chilling on his porch, taking a break from work and reminiscing about life in the company of his ravens, when he gets interrupted by the cosmic ripple of the Dark Presence snatching Barbara and he immediately reaches out to Tor to check on him. First chapters are tricky since you need to balance world building with a hook to keep readers interested, so I tried my best to do that in the opening scene.

16. Talk about the fic's biggest moment & how you came up with it

As soon as I decided to turn this fic into a tragic love story between Odin and Zane, I knew the big moment was going to be their goodbye. While the premise of the series is canon-divergent, I wanted to make the rest canon-compliant, which meant Zane needed to write himself out of existence to stop the Dark Presence. I knew Odin would want to be with Zane until the last possible minute, so their goodbye needed to take place at Diver's Isle.

I slowed things down, gave them one last chance to be physically intimate and to say the important things they needed to say before Zane sacrificed himself. That in and of itself was an interesting choice, because it interrupted the flow of the action, but it's what felt right for the two of them. It was a very, very difficult scene to write. I shed a lot of tears and went to a deeply emotional place to write it, and I'm very pleased with how it turned out.

Talented Voice

16. Talk about the fic's biggest moment & how you came up with it

This is a very interesting question for this fic, because the answer totally changed with the rewrite. Prior to the rewrite, this fic was essentially just a smut fic with a tiny bit of world building and plot, so the big moment (and entire point of the fic) was Odin and Zane hooking up for the first time. With the rewrite, the biggest moment is when Zane sees Odin up on that stage for the first time, and then when they lock eyes. It is absolutely the 'Love at First Sight' trope and it's a hugely important moment for the entire series as a whole.

That's partly the reason why I wanted it to happen from Zane's point of view, not Odin's. I wanted to showcase what Zane felt in this moment and how important and earth-shattering it was for him, since he's so hot and cold with Odin up until near the end of Ragnarök and we don't get a good sense of how he feels about Odin until then.

Of course, the 4,000 word sex scene where they have sex for the first time is still a big moment, just maybe not as big as the love at first sight moment haha.

27. Share a piece of lore you made up for the story

The biggest, and arguably most important, piece of lore I made up for this story is that Tom the Poet was actually a collaboration between Thomas Zane and the Old Gods of Asgard. I was heavily influenced by Sam Lake and Marko Saaresto's close friendship and how they collaborate on Remedy's projects, with Sam providing Marko with poetry and Marko turning that poetry into lyrics. It just made so much sense since Odin incorporates some of Zane's poetry into the Old Gods songs!

Gods in Disguise

25. Share your favorite line

"That one quick dalliance was a lightning strike in a bone-dry field, igniting a wildfire that’s raged out of control, consumed acre after acre, left Odin reeling and breathless and confused."

I'm quite partial to this line because of the imagery and how it speaks to Odin's feelings about the current state of his (sort-of) relationship with Zane. I wanted to capture the intensity between the two of them and also how Zane's behavior's messing with Odin's head.

26. Share your favorite detail

Hmm. This is a tough one. I spent some time in the Hollywood Hills prior to writing this fic, so my favorite detail is probably Odin seeing all the twinkling lights of the city spread out before him as he's initially looking out at LA in the beginning of the fic, then when he's fucking Zane against the glass wall. It's a pretty phenomenal view!

[hostilecityshowdown]

I'd love love love to hear more about your version of Kevin Nash from that one Heartbreak Hotel fic 🙏

shaking diesel in my teeth and dragging him under the cut

chapter one • additional notes • credit for the AU, lore and character development, original fics, and accompanying material in the series: @cyberslam

this guy. while my little pocket dimension within mango's heartbreak hotel AU is his main 'verse, almost every other time i write diesel, i'm just writing HHAU diese in yet another AU. you can actually thank slater for this one!! they love him so much and are so inspiring for me, and if i could i'd churn out fics based on our conversations and their OCs and headcanons like a machine. slater i am holding ur hand.

in terms of the patented* Diesel Writing Process, his muse is headstrong, stubbourn, and self-centered, and most of the work i do when writing involves convincing him to share the spotlight. my offshoot of mango's universe would be all flowery prose, cerebral horror, and... diesel, suffering largely alone on centre stage, if i couldn't coerce this big lug to cooperate. some aspects of that are still preserved, but i've been able to avoid writing all my chapters in this world as solitary experiences; silent hill one and two deeply impacted me as a tiny xentex, and i always want to write that slow, surreal, murky trudge through dreams and summoned memories laid atop the burnt-out husk of reality that the SH2 hotel section, especially, captures.

*patent pending

diesel loves being the star of his own show, but so does the heartbreak kid - shawn's a begrudgingly necessary fulcrum for diesel, once he decides he has to be. my diesel muse genuinely suffers from OCD, and projecting his compulsions onto other people is an unhealthy coping mechanism of his. shawn likes the attention and benefits enough to encourage and enable this in his own ways, until he's able to take over performing compulsive rituals for diesel, becoming a mandated aspect of the rituals themselves. i wrote an example of this in diesel's testosterone injection, and shawn's absence will leave an impact on diesel's compulsive thoughts and behaviours in the ongoing narrative. shawn likes when people are dependent on him (to his preferred degree, not for anything... substantial. he just likes feeling special.) sure, but the heartbreak kid and, inherently, the hotel, need that dependency.

diesel also collects matchbooks from hotels, motels, rest stops, tourism welcome areas, reservation smoke shops and other native-operated establishments, and casinos, which he started as vinnie vegas. dallas collects poker chips, and kim collects ashtrays, cigarette boxes, and dice. studd much more passively collects coasters and glass bottles (especially tiny ones) but competes with kim for dice. and scotty flamingo, the most notable member of the diamond mine (duh /j)... he likes to swipe cosmetics, towels, notepads - anything free! and sometimes even things that aren't free. he doesn't collect but outright hoards various forms of tickets, too, but that predates the stable. i was going to include a huge section on these habits, quirks, and compulsions, but... in the end, most of that was cut. it detracted from the atmosphere too much, and it started to spoil plans i have, which you can see the beginning hints of in that heartbreak hotel branded ashtray in my most recent chapter contribution.

diesel's muse solidified for me very quickly and easily, and i barely even need to keep notes on him. big wolf keeps track of himself and comes to me with whatever i need when i need it, or chases me down and demands i devolve into a crazed, sweating, dizzied madman, writing twelve thousand+ words in a single sitting with no breaks. always something with this guy. in a diesel/undertaker fic that will eventually see the light of day, i write in his beloved ford bronco. it has a wolf howling sticker on the trunk, an Idle No More bumper sticker, genuine leather upholstery, leather conditioner and a rolodex (with hundreds of names, numbers, and addresses of people who died of AIDS and their loved ones, roadside memorials for 2SLGBTQIA+ people and missing and murdered indigenous women, and various gay clubs, bars, bathhouses, safehouses, shops, farms, and other gay establishments - including many that are defunct even by diesel's modern time) in the glove box, endless atlases for different states and provinces he swaps out as needed (most of these go with him to his truck cabs as needed), and a dedicated, custom case for depeche mode CDs and cassettes. i hope that gives a better overview of the guy he is than i could ever provide in mere words alone /j

[khoicesbyk]

The Royal Romance.

Love Everlasting.

A/N: I had a different name and plot for this fic over a year ago. But after being in the RP community for more than a year, I've decided to write the current Royal Life of my favorite OTP.

Rated: Mature (at times can and will be Explicit. I'll be sure to change the rating when and if that happens). | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual. Y'all should be used to this from me by now 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: King Marquise Rys (LI) and Queen Shanelle Miller-Rys (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and original characters created by me and/or other authors [their characters have been mentioned and/or used in the story with their permission] ) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 7K words. (may be slightly more or may be slightly less. Look, I stop counting after editing and re-editing and driving myself insane. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you! 😁😘

This series is rated Mature and/or Explicit. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click ——> Here!

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @shewillreadyou @txemrn @busywoman @peonierose @twinkleallnight

Chapter 13.) A Royal Debut.

Marquise felt like time had stood still. He couldn't breathe. His palms were sweaty. His heart raced. He was in total shock.

“Your Majesty?” Dr. Ramirez asks.

He blinked himself back to reality. 

“Say hello to your son, my King.”

He looked at his wife’s OB and it still didn't register.

Not until she placed the tiny newborn in his arms. 

“Congratulations to you and Her Majesty.”

He looked down at the baby in his arms. 

“My son…my son…”

He gently ran his thumb over the soft skin of the baby’s cheek.

“You're here. You’re really here.” 

His vision blurred as his eyes welled up with tears.

“My boy. My sweet beautiful boy. You’re here.” he said as he broke down into tears. 

His dream had finally come true. Shanelle had given birth to their eldest son. And the baby boy was safe in his arms. While his heart celebrated the birth of his second son, it also still mourns the death of his first. 

“Look at you. Look at how beautiful you are.” he said as he cried, “You’re so tiny. And so precious.”

Marquise didn't want to put him down but he knew his wife was anxious to hold him. He gently placed the baby in her arms where she lost it.

“My baby. My beautiful baby. You’re here. You’re real.” she said as she cradled their son.

This was an answered prayer. They prayed for this moment. Ever since they lost their first child. And now that prayer has been answered.

“Your Majesties?” their nurse asked, breaking their reverie. 

Shanelle looked up at the nurse.

“Do you have a name for your son?” she asks.

Shanelle nodded as she took a steadying breath.

“Yes. His name is Kylo Jeremiah Rys.” Shanelle replies.

The nurse nodded as she wrote his name down.

“Very well. I will register his name and give you both a few minutes. We still have one more to go.”

Shanelle nodded before looking down at their son.

“Kylo Jeremiah Rys,” she whispered.

Marquise wrapped his arms around her and their baby.

“First Prince Of Cordonia.” Marquise quipped.

Shanelle smiled tearily.

“Eldest Son Of The King Of Cordonia.”

“First Heir Of The Queen Of Cordonia.”

“First Heir Of The Queen?” she asks. 

“Yes. The twins are officially your heirs to the throne. After all, The Royal Family is essentially two families in one. And Because Khari is my heir to the throne. Or at least the boys will be once the paperwork is filed. So no one can say our children aren't the heirs.” 

Shanelle smiled softly at her husband.

“Congratulations my love, you finally have your son.”

Marquise looked at her as she held the baby close to her heart.

“All because of you. You gave me our son. This beautiful boy is here because of you.”

“I don't want to let him go. I just want to stay in this moment forever.”

She kissed their son's forehead before handing him back to his father. 

“My sweet boy. I swear to you that I will always be here. I will always love you. I will always protect you. I will always defend you.” he said with tears in his eyes. “I refuse to fail you. Like I failed your brother.”

Shanelle laid her head on his shoulder, rubbing his arm. 

“I wasn't there for him or your mother. I couldn't save him. I failed him. And I will never forgive myself for that. But with God as my witness, I swear I will never fail you, your brother, or your sister. I will never be able to forgive or live with myself if I ever do.” 

He held his son close to his heart as tears streamed down his face.

“I love you so much, my beautiful little love. You will always be safe in my arms.” 

He was obsessed. His son is here. He's safe. He's healthy. He's alive. This moment is what Marquise asked, begged, and prayed to God for.

When Kylo quietly fell asleep in his arms, Marquise handed him to the nurse who had quietly reentered the room.

“I promise you, Your Majesty, we will take good care of the little Prince while you wait for his brother,” she said, smiling warmly. 

Marquise nodded before going to check on his wife.

“How are you feeling my love?” he quietly asked.

“Exhausted. Elated. Scared. Still wondering if I'm dreaming.” Shanelle replied. 

“I know. I'm still in shock.”

She looked at him, tears shining in her eyes.

“We did it, baby. We finally have the son we prayed for.”

Marquise shook his head.

“You. You did it. You blessed our family. I am eternally grateful to you. For your love. For your grace. For your poise. For your patience. And for your sacrifice. Our family is complete because of you.”

“You deserve credit too, Marquise.”

“No, I don't. I didn't do anything. You did. You nurtured our children. Followed the orders and advice of your doctors. Even when you were exhausted from the process, you stayed the course. All I did was watch you go through the emotions and physical changes. Our children…our family is blessed because of you.”

“You still deserve credit. Everything I felt, I took it out on you. And I'm sorry. But after 9 months look at where we are. Our son is here. And soon his brother will be too.”

Shanelle took a breath. 

“Are you okay, love?” he asked. 

“Yeah, but I think he's ready. Go get the nurse,” she replies. 

Marquise nodded before going to get her nurse and Doctor Ramirez. 

“Well, my Queen. This is it. Are you ready?” Dr. Ramirez asked Shanelle. 

“Yes. I'm ready to meet my baby,” she replied. 

“My King, are you ready?” Dr. Ramirez asked him. 

“Beyond ready!” he replied. 

“Okay. Take a deep breath my Queen. And on the count of three, you’re going to push. One…two…three…Push!” 

Shanelle took a deep breath, squeezed her husband’s hand, and pushed with everything she had in her. And soon a baby’s cry was heard. When Shanelle looked up, Dr. Ramirez held their son in her arms. 

“Congratulations again Your Majesties. Your son is here.” 

Shanelle’s vision blurred as the tears welled in her eyes. The moment she had been patiently waiting nine whole months for was finally here. Her sons, her Princes, her boys, her babies, are finally here. They're alive. They're healthy. They're safe. After Marquise cut the cord, Dr. Ramirez placed the baby in her arms, she thought she would drop him. He was so little. 

“Look at you. Look at how small you are. My son. You’re here. You’re actually here.”

She was enamored with him. 

“No wonder I had so much heartburn and indigestion. You and your brother have heads full of beautiful hair.”

There was no bigger joy than this. 

“You're so small. I never thought I could love someone this much.” 

Shanelle looked at her husband who was in tears himself. 

“Say hello to your Daddy baby. He's been waiting to meet you,” she whispered to the baby. 

“My Queen. Do you have a name for the baby?” her nurse asked. 

“Yes. His name is Zyon Shomari Rys.” Shanelle replied. 

The nurse nodded. 

“It's a beautiful name for him, ma'am. Congratulations again to you and His Majesty.”

Shanelle smiled at her nurse before turning to her husband. 

“Come meet your son.” 

She gently placed the baby in his arms and he was a mess of tears all over again. 

“I love you. I love you so much little one. I can't believe you’re here. You and your brother are here. I asked God for one healthy baby and he gave me you two. You and Kylo. My sweet boys. My loves. Thank you for choosing me and your mother. I will always love you. I will always protect you. I will always defend you. You, your brother, and your sister are the reasons why my heart beats.”

Soon the newborn was on his way to the nursery and His Majesty was just beside himself. His wife had safely and successfully given birth to their children. He was in awe of her. Her power, her patience, her strength, all of it enamored him. 

He pulled his chair up to her bed as he looked at his wife and she smiled at him. 

“What is it?” she asked softly. 

“You. You amaze me. You mesmerize me.” he replied as he gently ran a thumb across her forehead, “I know you’re exhausted. But I…I just want you to know how eternally grateful I am for you. You did it. You pushed through an unimaginable pain to bring our boys into this world. They're here because of you. I love you so much. I will never be able to repay you for giving me the ultimate gift of fatherhood.” 

He gently took her left hand in his, wrapped his right arm around her, and laid his head against hers. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you. But I will never stop loving or appreciating you. You are the love, strength, and backbone of our family.”

Marquise squeezed his eyes shut to hold back tears. 

“My Warrior. My Goddess.”

“A Warrior Goddess?” she asked. 

“Who needs Xena when I have you?” he replies. 

She chuckled softly before letting out a yawn. 

“You must be exhausted, my love. So get some rest.”

“Stay with me? At least until I fall asleep.”

He kissed her forehead softly. 

“I am at your side, My Queen. I am always at your side.”

He held her until he heard her snoring lightly. He felt as if his heart would explode when he looked at her.  He watched her chest rise and fall peacefully as she slept. He moved a few stray strands of hair from her face. 

“Je t'aime mon amour. Je suis entièrement et entièrement à vous. Je serai toujours à toi. Merci pour tout ce que vous m'avez toujours donné,” he whispered, before kissing her forehead and quietly leaving her room. 

Once outside Marquise took a deep steadying breath. The reality of the situation was starting to set in. He's a father again. There was no more waiting for his sons to arrive. They're here. And he still has so much to do. He has to formally announce their births but first, he has to tell their daughter. 

When Marquise finally arrived back at the residence of the palace, he was greeted by Margo and Shanelle’s parents. 

“Why are the three of you still awake?” he asked. 

“They were waiting to hear from you. I'm just here as moral support,” Damien replies. 

Marquise snorted. 

“Well?” Shantel and Margo ask impatiently. 

Marquise chuckled before choking up again. 

“They're here. My boys are finally here,” he replied. 

Margo and Shantel looked at each other before squealing happily at the news. 

“That is fantastic! Congratulations Your Majesty.” Damien said to Marquise. 

The grandmothers couldn't get enough of the news. 

“They're here! Our grandsons are here.” Margo exclaimed. 

“This is everything we wanted to hear. Our grandbabies are here.” Shantel added. 

Margo hugged her son. 

“Congratulations my son. Your family has been blessed beyond measure. And you…you finally have the sons you always wanted.” 

He hugged her. 

“Merci Maman. You are as much a part of my family as anyone. Je t'aime.” he said to Margo. 

“Je t'aime aussi mon garçon. Papa serait si fier. Et ta mère aussi.” she replies. 

“You look exhausted Marquise. You should get some rest.” Damien said to his son-in-law. 

“I said the same thing to your daughter.” 

“Go rest, honey. We’ll celebrate later.” Shantel added. 

Marquise nodded before yawning. He watched his in-laws and mom walk down the hall before turning in the direction of his bedroom. He had just enough energy to take a hot shower and change into something to sleep in before inevitably crashing. 

When he woke up later, he had a renewed energy. His first task was telling their daughter that her brothers were here. After freshening up, Marquise was off to see his baby girl. 

When he entered her room, she was sitting on her bed reading her favorite story to their corgi quartet and her kitten Paisley. When she looked up from her book and smiled at him. 

“Hi, Daddy!”

“Good morning my love!” he said to her as he sat down on the edge of her bed, “Did you sleep well sweetness?” 

“Uh-huh! When did you get home?” she asks. 

“Earlier this morning. You were still asleep. And I didn't want to disturb you,” he replied. 

“Is Mommy getting ready for breakfast?” she asks. 

“No mon amour. Mommy isn't here. She's at the hospital.” 

“Is mommy okay?” she asks. 

“Yes. Mommy is just fine. As a matter of fact, I have some very exciting news for you,” he replies. 

“What is it, Daddy?” she asks as she climbed into his lap. 

“Mommy gave birth earlier this morning. Your brothers are here,” he replied. 

“They're here?” she asked. 

“Yes, my love. And I can't wait for you to meet them,” he replies. 

He watched her face light up. 

“They're here! They're here! They're here!” she cheered. 

He loved seeing the excitement and love in her eyes. 

“Will we go see them, Daddy?” she asks. 

“Yes, my love. But first, we have to make a very big announcement,” he replied. 

“We do?” she asks. 

“Yes. We have to announce that the boys are here,” he replies. 

“Yay! Let's go, Daddy!” 

There was a knock at Khari’s door before Margo entered the room. An animated Khari made a beeline for her. 

“Grammy! Grammy! Grammy! Grammy! Guess what! Guess what! Guess what!” 

“Yes? What is it, my sweet?” Margo asks. 

“Mommy gave birth! My brothers are here! They're really here!” Khari replies. 

Margo chuckled. 

“I know my sweet. Your grandparents and I stayed awake until your father came home and told us the great news. Are you excited my Princess?” Margo asks. 

“Yeah! I get to a big sister Grammy. That's a very big job.” Khari replied. 

“Indeed it is my love. But Grammy and I have all the confidence in the world that you will be the best big sister ever.” Marquise quipped. 

“Your father's right. You will be the best big sister ever.” Margo added. 

Khari nodded. 

“But first Daddy says that we have to make a big announcement and tell everybody that my brothers are here.” 

“Well then! We'd better find you an outfit.”

“Yeah! It's gotta be something big and pretty!” Khari said before running into her closet with the corgis and Paisley hot on her heels. 

This caused Marquise and Margo to laugh. 

“I've never seen her so excited before.”

“She just became a big sister, Maman. It's to be expected.”

“This is true. And how are you?” Margo asks. 

Marquise smiled. 

“I feel like I'm dreaming. Like I should be waking up any moment now. I'm still in shock. I held them Maman. I held them both. And it hasn't registered that I did.” he replies. 

“I'm sure son. This was everything you always prayed for. It's everything Papa and I always wanted for you.” 

Marquise shook his head with a smile. 

“God I miss him so much. He’d be so thrilled.”

“Hah! Thrilled nothing! He would be marching up and down the halls with his chest out saying that not only are his grandsons here but he finally has his golf proteges. He'd be especially happy that they were born today.”

“Why?” he asks. 

“It's our wedding anniversary today,” she replies. 

Marquise winced. 

“I totally forgot I'm so sorry.”

Margo patted his arm affectionately. 

“It's alright my son. Papa wouldn't have paid attention anyway with the boys being born today.”

“I promise. We'll visit him together soon.”

Margo smiled. 

“Very well my King. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to help my granddaughter get ready.” 

Marquise pulled her into a warm loving hug that she returned. 

“Somewhere in heaven, Ellie is smiling because she is even prouder of you than I am. And she loves you just as much as I do. Maybe even a little more. Always know that.”

Marquise kissed Margo on the cheek before leaving to go get ready. 

As the King got ready, he felt a strange sense of nervousness. The announcement of the birth in the Royal Family was common yet this felt monumentous. For the first time since his birth was announced, Cordonia would have not one but two Princes. 

But what made him nervous was he wondered if he would end up making the same mistakes with his boys as his own father made with him. He was so lost in thought he didn't hear his father-in-law walk into the holding room outside the throne room.

“Are you alright, Marquise? You seem a million miles away.” Damien asks. 

“Huh? Oh! Yeah. I'm fine. Hell, I’m more than fine. I was just lost in thought.” Marquise replies. 

“Something troubling you?” Damien asks. 

Marquise sighed. 

“Yes? No? I don’t know?” Marquise replies. 

Damien gestured to the chairs for them to sit down. 

“What's wrong son?” Damien asks. 

“I'm excited. I'm exhausted. I'm so full of happiness and joy and love. But I can't shake this nagging voice in the back of my head.” Marquise replied. 

“What is it saying?” Damien asks. 

“It keeps saying that I'll be no better of a father to my boys than he was to me,” Marquise replies. 

Damien nodded in understanding.

“Let me ask you this. Do you think you and Constantine are the same in terms of fatherhood?” Damien asks. 

“No. We are indeed night and day. He abandoned his children whereas I would die for mine. But I also know that he lives with me. As much as I despise him, I can't ignore the fact that parts of him are a part of me.” Marquise replies. 

“This is true. And while we grew up together in a sense, I didn't know your father all that well. But you do. No one knows Constantine quite like you. And you have worked hard to not repeat his mistakes. Now I'm sure there are parts of you that are just like him. But there are parts of you that are just like Eleanor. While I never met her formally, my mother did. And she always spoke of her gentleness, of her kindness, and when I look at you, I see that in you. Yes, you and I don't always get along, but even I know how much of an amazing father you are. I see how much of an outstanding husband you are. I say all of that to say this, you'll be just fine. You'll continue to figure out this whole trial-and-error journey of fatherhood. And you'll love and protect and defend like you always have.”

Marquise nodded at Damien gratefully. 

“Thank you. I know I shouldn't be in my head but sometimes I can't help it.”

“I understand that. Every father has that nagging voice in their head, even me.” 

“Really?” Marquise asked. 

“Just because she's a Queen doesn't make Shanelle any less my daughter. I will always worry about and for her. I'm not saying that I don't trust you to keep her safe and protected, it's just sometimes I can't help but wonder if she is truly safe.” 

“I get that. And to that, I can assure you that I take her and Khari and now the boys’ safety seriously.” 

Damien nodded. 

“I know you do.” 

As they walked out of the holding room they were greeted by Khari and both of her grandmothers.

“Look at Pop Pop’s sunshine! You look beautiful.”

Khari curtsied to her grandfather. 

“Thank you Pop Pop. What do you think Daddy?” Khari asks.

“You look ever a vision like your mother, my love.” 

“Thank you, Daddy. Are you ready for the announcement?”

“Yes, my love.”

Before taking his daughter’s hand Marquise looked at Damien. 

“I might be a bit busy today so can you start the paperwork on the boys’ official titles for me?” 

“I would be honored. Now you two go.” Damien replies. 

Marquise nodded before taking Khari’s hand and walking into the throne room. They made their way to the thrones where the press was already gathered. With Khari sitting on his lap, Marquise cleared his throat, quieting down the voices in the room.

“Good morning everyone! I know it's a bit early to be awake on a Sunday but I do thank you all for being here. I assure you all that this won't take long. On behalf of my wife, my daughter and I have a very special announcement to make.”

Khari nodded before looking up at her dad. 

“Can I say it Daddy?” she asked. 

“Go ahead, my love,” he replies. 

Khari smiled brightly. 

“My baby brothers are here!!” she announced. 

“My daughter is correct. Earlier this morning, shortly after returning to Cordonia, Her Majesty was taken to St. Regis Memorial Hospital where she gave birth to our sons. Prince Kylo Jeremiah Rys and Prince Zyon Shomari Rys. I can assure all of you that mother and babies are doing quite well.”

Many of the press began excitedly talking at once. 

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty! On behalf of everyone at the CBC, I'd like to congratulate you and Her Majesty on the birth of your sons.” Donnie Brine spoke up. 

“Thank you, Donnie! We are overjoyed and completely grateful and blessed.” Marquise replies. 

“And happy too!” Khari chimed in. 

“How are you feeling, Your Majesty?” Donnie asks. 

“I am everywhere at once. I feel everything. Joy, excitement, gratefulness, thankfulness, adoration, shock, intimidation, and love. This moment has been a long time coming. And now it's here.” Marquise replies. 

Donnie looked at a smiling Khari with a gentle smile. 

“And how about you Princess? Are you excited to be a big sister?” 

Khari nodded. 

“Yeah. I can't wait to see my Mommy and meet my brothers too.”

“That's great, Your Highness.”

Marquise cleared his throat. 

“Now I would love to take more of your questions but I think this little one is anxious to meet her brothers. So I thank you all for being here this morning. I will have an official statement for you all very soon.” 

He looked to Khari. 

“You ready to go?” he asked. 

Khari nodded enthusiastically as she took his hand. 

“Yeah! But first, we have to get Mommy some flowers,” she replies. 

“Very well, my love. Now let's go see your mother.”

Soon, they departed the palace for a local flower shop and then to the hospital to see Shanelle and the twins. Khari couldn't run out of the elevator fast enough. 

“Whoa! Wait for me!” Marquise said to his daughter as she raced down the hall. She stopped when she got to her mother’s door. 

“Sorry, Daddy. I forgot you’re not fast anymore.” 

Marquise made a face at his daughter. 

“You're lucky I love you.”

Khari knocked on the door before they went inside. 

“Mommy!” Khari said before running to her mother. 

“There's my girl.” 

Khari threw her arms around her mom. 

“Are you okay Mommy?” 

“Yes, baby. I'm okay.”

“We brought you flowers, Mommy.”

“Thank you Peanut. They're beautiful.”

“Are my brothers here?”

Shanelle nodded to the corner of the room. 

“They're right over there.”

“Can I see them?” 

“Of course baby. Go on over with Daddy.”

“Come on, my love.”

Marquise led Khari over to where the boys were resting. 

“Say hello to your brothers, Princess.”

She was in awe. 

“They're so little Daddy.” she said as she looked at them, “Hi Kylo. Hi Zyon. I'm your big sister. We're gonna have so much fun.”

It was at that moment her parents knew she was in love. 

“Can I hold them, Daddy?” 

“Of course my love. Here, have a seat by your mother.”

Khari sat down on the bed with her mother behind her. Marquise placed both boys in their sister’s arms. 

“They're so small. They're like little dolls. And they're warm.” Khari said as she held her brothers, “I want to hold them forever.”

Seeing the love she had for her brothers, melted her parents’ hearts. Eventually, she gave her brothers back to her father. After spending all day around the boys, Khari found herself laying in her mother’s arms. 

“When do the boys and Mommy get to come home?” 

“Tomorrow babe. We'll be home tomorrow.”

“Okay Mommy,” 

“My sweet girl. You’re gonna be the best big sister ever.”

Khari nodded before laying her head on her mom’s shoulder. As Shanelle held her daughter close she glanced over at her husband who winked at her, making her smile at him. 

“Mommy?”

“Yes, babe?”

“Are you happy?”

Shanelle nodded. 

“Yes, baby. I'm very happy. Because I have you, your pigheaded Daddy, Pop Pop, both of your Grammies and now I have your brothers.” 

Kharu nodded with a smile. 

“I'm happy too. We have a big family now.”

“Yes, we do.”

Khari snuggled in her mother’s arms then slowly and accidentally fell asleep. When Shanelle looked down she smiled softly. 

“And she's out.”

Marquise chuckled. 

“Like a light. I should get her back home.”

“Okay. Thank you for bringing her.”

“Always my love. I'll be back after I put her to bed.”

“Okay. I'll see you when you get back.”

With a sweet kiss to his wife, the King gathered his sleeping daughter in his arms and took her home. True to his word, His Majesty was back at the hospital that evening. Watching his wife and sons as they slept. It was at this quiet moment that his heart continued to swell. The peace that settled over him was a feeling that he wanted to have bottled. 

He moved a few strands of her hair from her face, causing Shanelle to stir from her sleep, and smiled at him. 

“Hey, handsome.”

“Hey yourself beautiful. I didn't mean to wake you up.”

“It's okay. I'm just glad you’re here.”

“I'll always be here love.”

Shanelle smiled softly. 

“You know it hasn't hit me yet.”

“What?” he asked. 

“Reality. I still think I'm pregnant. Like I'm in a dream and when I wake up I'm still gonna have this huge stomach.” she replies. 

“I know the feeling. Like we should still be waiting for the boys to get here.”

“Exactly. But nope. They're here. Our boys are finally here.” 

“We have never been more blessed.”

“No, we haven't. And that's a blessing in and of itself.”

Shanelle nodded with a smile. 

“Thank you.”

“For what? I haven't done anything. At least not lately.”

“For being the amazing father that you are. My children could never ask for a better Daddy than you.”

Marquise chuckled softly. 

“You let the world tell the story, and they'll say I don't deserve you or our children. But I will never stop proving my undying love and utter devotion to them or you.” 

Shanelle ran her thumb over his cheek. 

“I love you.”

He softly kissed the knuckles of her left hand. 

“I love you too, my Queen. Always and forevermore.” 

The next day it was time to head home and Shanelle couldn't wait. While the staff at the hospital were nothing short of fantastic, she was ready to go home and get in her own bed. With the boys safely in their carriers, The Royals headed back to the residence where her parents, Margo, and Khari eagerly awaited their arrival. 

“Welcome home Mommy!” Khari said as she greeted her parents. 

“Thank you, baby. It's good to be home.” Shanelle replies. 

Shanelle greeted her parents as well. 

“Hi, mama. Hi Daddy.” 

Damien wrapped his daughter in a loving hug. 

“How are you my darling?” he asks.

“Tired but I'll be okay Daddy,” she replied. 

Her mother couldn't get enough of the boys. 

“Look at them. My precious grandbabies. I am going to spoil you two rotten!” 

Shanelle shook her head with a smile. 

“Welcome home Your Majesty. And congratulations on the birth of your sons.” Margo said to Shanelle. 

“Thank you, Margo. Now go love on your grandsons.”

It did Shanelle’s heart good to see her babies receive so much love. After spending the day with family and getting the boys settled in their new nursery and opening the gift box she received from Vescovi Boutique’s new baby line, Shanelle was finally able to climb into her bed and relax. 

“God I've missed this bed,” she said with a sigh of contentment. 

“I'm sure you have.” Marquise quipped. 

“And I missed food. I missed real food. Don't get me wrong, the food at the hospital was decent, but I missed food that didn't taste sterilized.” 

Marquise chuckled as he wrapped her in his arms. 

“Well now that you're home, you can have whatever you like. And it won't taste sterilized.”

“Thank God. But you know what I missed most of all?” 

“What?” he asks. 

“You. I missed being with you. I missed being in your arms.” she replies. 

Marquise tightened his arms around her. 

“I missed you too. I hate being in this bed without you.”

“You're spoiled, Your Majesty.”

“Pot. Kettle.”

“Touchè.”

The two snuggled together, enjoying a quiet moment together until the baby monitor on Marquise’s nightstand crackled to life. 

“It seems it's time to feed the boys.”

“Okay, I'll go.”

He stopped her. 

“Nope. I will. You rest.”

“You sure?” she asked. 

“Positive. You did most of the heavy lifting so get some rest.” he replies. 

“I love you so much right now.”

Marquise chuckled before kissing her forehead. 

“I love you too.”

The next two weeks were a blur of diapers, feedings, bottles, sponge baths, and uneven sleep schedules for the new parents. But they handled it beautifully. They took turns so one could rest and so the boys could get used to either parent being alone with them as well as together. 

While their daughter was at school they were enjoying a quiet moment walking down the hall with the boys. Shanelle was tickled with how animated her husband was with their sons. 

“You are too cute, you know that?” 

“Thank you. I love talking to them.”

He rocked Zyon as they walked. 

“You’re a natural at this Daddy thing.”

He snickered. 

“Thanks. I have 5 years of experience.” 

The two laughed. It did his heart good to hear his wife laugh. 

“I love this feeling.”

“What feeling?” She asks. 

“This feeling of pure happiness. I have never been this happy.” He replies. 

Shanelle smiled. 

As they turned a corner, they were greeted by an attendant. 

“Pardon the interruption Your Majesties. But you have an audience waiting for you in the throne room.” she informed them. 

They looked at each other. 

“When did you put an audience on the schedule?” Shanelle asked. 

“I didn’t. I cleared our schedules through the end of the month.” He replied before turning to the attendant, “thank you.”

The attendant bowed then walked away. They looked at each other before Shanelle texted her parents. Asking them to meet them outside the side door to the throne room. 

“What is it butterfly?” Shantel asked her daughter. 

“Someone is waiting for us in the throne room. So we need you and Daddy to take the boys if you two don’t mind.” Shanelle replies. 

“Of course.” Shantel said as she took Kylo from her.

“Can I be of assistance?” Damien asks. 

“No but thank you. I’m sure it’s nothing serious.” Marquise replies. 

With their children safely with their grandparents, The Royals stepped into the throne room to some unexpected guests. 

“What are you doing here?” Shanelle asked. 

They were greeted by Genevieve and two other guests. 

“Well hello to you too, niece. And to you as well Your Majesty. I heard the great news. Congratulations on the birth of your sons.” Genevieve replies. 

Shanelle and Marquise looked at each other. 

“You requested an audience?” Marquise asked. 

“Yes I did. I had to come see and congratulate the two people who ruined my life on their two new bundles of joy.” Genevieve replied. 

“The two people who ruined your life? What are you talking about?” Shanelle asks. 

“If it weren’t for you and your husband exposing your uncle I wouldn’t be a laughingstock among the court!” Genevieve sneered. Her face ugly. 

“With no due respect Genevieve, if your husband had kept his dick to himself you wouldn’t be in this situation. And the only reason the world knows he fathered a child is because Naya tried to use that pregnancy as an excuse to not be convicted of murder.” Marquise replies. 

“And you just had to tell the entire court!” Genevieve snapped at him. 

Marquise let out an annoyed sigh. 

“I’ll remind you to watch your tone, Genevieve. My wife and I are not your children nor are we your staff. When you speak to me or her you will be respectful of our titles.”

“You think you scare me?! Without me you wouldn’t be King!” 

“I became King because my cousin’s mother took him out of the line of succession when my uncle died and my brother abdicated. And before you tell me how your kingdom was stolen from you and your children, South Cordonia was never meant to be yours or Edward’s. Your father-in-law, King Dominic made sure my wife would be the next monarch. Because at that time not only was she the oldest living child of the Miller Clan but he was still King when she was crowned Princess. Not that I need to remind you of this.” 

Genevieve looked at him indignantly. 

“Now why are you here? And don't lie to me.” Marquise said. 

“I'm here in an official capacity as a representative of the next Head Of State Of Comery Isle.” 

“Is that why Former Prime Minister Ballenger’s grandson and I assume his wife are sitting on my thrones?” Marquise asked. 

Genevieve nodded. Seemingly impressed. 

“Very good. The hollow King knows his nobles. Yes, that's them.” she replies, “Marquise, Shanelle, meet Lord and Lady Alden Douglas Joseph of Gallagher. The next Heads Of State Of Comery Isle. My Lord and Lady meet your sad excuses for Monarchs.” 

“Do you enjoy your life and the comfort it provides you, Genevieve?” Shanelle asked. 

“I earned the comfort my life provides me!” Genevieve snapped at Shanelle. 

“Then if you want to continue enjoying that comfort you'll respect my husband and his title as YOUR King as well as my own. Don't you ever forget that I control what you get from the Monarchy.” 

Genevieve scoffed. 

“And you had the nerve to call me and your uncle tyrants.”

“I never wreaked havoc on the people or the economy of this kingdom. But you did. So yes, you and your husband, separated or not, were indeed tyrants.”

Marquise cleared his throat. 

“Now that we know who's with you, you can get on with the reason why you're here.”

“As I said, I'm here as a representative of the next Head Of State.”

“Okay. You could've just sent that in writing to the campaign committee.”

Genevieve smiled venomously. 

“Why do that when I can happily inconvenience you and my niece? Besides, I wanted Lord Joseph to see you up close so he knows the type of watered-down leadership that he would be dealing with now that he's the next Head Of State.” 

Lord Joseph finally spoke. 

“I'm glad she did. It's high time someone stood up to the tyranny of you and your highly unqualified wife.” 

“Highly unqualified you say? Then I guess that includes your grandfather.”

“Unlike this Queen, my grandfather served this kingdom with distinction!”

“While feeding state secrets to Auvernal when they tried to force our daughter into a betrothal and attempted a hostile takeover.” 

Lord Joseph stood stock still. 

“The schmuck you call a grandfather was willing to sell this kingdom out for a check. Oh! You thought my husband and I didn't know? Why do you think the man is in exile now?” Shanelle asked. 

Lord Joseph kept his mouth shut. 

“That's what I thought.”

Meanwhile, Marquise tilted his head to the right. 

“Hello, Makenna. It's been a while since you and I have seen each other.” 

“Not long enough Marquise.” 

“It's Your Majesty.”

“I don't care what it is.” Lady Makenna sneered. 

Marquise rolled his eyes and then turned to his wife. 

“My love, meet Lady Makenna Laurent-Joseph. Aka Naya’s cousin.”

“Your ex has a cousin?” Shanelle asks. 

“Yes. She, Geoffrey, and Lord Joseph are the same age.” Marquise replies. 

Shanelle nodded. 

“Charmed I'm sure.”

Makenna scoffed. 

“Of all the women in this world for you to choose from, you pick this bleating sheep to be your wife Marquise?” Makenna asks before shaking her head, “Such a shame. But not surprising given how much of a failure you've always been.” 

“Your cousin didn't seem to think so.”

“My cousin was a fool! Falling for you was the worst thing she could ever do!”

Marquise raised an eyebrow. 

“How is King Elgin doing Kenna?” Marquise asked. 

“My uncle is none of your concern!” Makenna replies. 

“Oh well since he's no longer my concern, I can tell the Monarchy to stop paying for his dialysis treatments now.”

Makenna fumed. 

“If you dare…” she sneered. 

“Careful my Lady. You don't want to end up like your cousin.” Shanelle warned her. 

When Makenna backed down Marquise turned his attention back to Lord Joseph. 

“If you plan to run for the Head Of State, be my guest, and should you win, I will do my job as your King and congratulate you. But don't let the power go to your head. Because just like I told Edwin, I reserve the right to remove anyone from their position.” 

Lord Joseph took a menacing step toward Marquise. 

“I look forward to the day your reign as King goes down in flames.”

Marquise cleared his throat. 

“My Lord. Don't ever forget that your station is LIGHT YEARS BELOW mine. Don't ever threaten me. It never ends well.” Marquise said to him, “And oh! Don't you ever touch MY Thrones again!” 

“So dramatic! This isn't a threat, Your Majesty. It's a preview. To let you and your wife know that I am a wolf. And I will not play nice with bleating sheep!” 

“Guards!” Marquise commanded, “Get these people out of my throne room.”

The couple watched as their guests were ushered out of the throne room. 

“They're going to be a problem I see.” Shanelle quipped.  

Marquise nodded resolutely. 

“Nothing we can't handle, my love.” 

“True. Now let's go see what my parents are up to.”

Marquise led his wife out of the throne room and down the hall. The next few days were filled with family, fun, fellowship, and the twins’ first Thanksgiving of many. This was all Marquise wanted. He even took time out to honor his mother on the 25th anniversary of her death. As hard as the day was for him, he was comforted by the fact he had his family all under one roof. 

That following Monday, the elections for Comery Isle had concluded and the winner was announced. Marquise and Shanelle were in his office when the results were announced. As predicted Lord Joseph won by a landslide over his opponents.

“Well, it's official. Lord Joseph is the new Head Of State.” Shanelle said to her husband. 

“So it would seem,” he replied before taking a sip of his whiskey, “but we needn't worry though. Always remember Comery Isle is still under your jurisdiction, my love. You are the Queen. No one bullies you. You are the one who sets the tone and the standards.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Good as long as you know.”

Just then Marquise’s phone buzzed. 

“What is it?” Shanelle asked. 

“The latest news on the kingdom of Gemmora,” he replies. 

“What's the latest?” she asks. 

“It's up for grabs,” he replies. 

“What?! What about King Eli and Queen Vanda?” 

“According to this press release the Gemmoran High Court has decided not to award control to either and instead will sell the kingdom to the highest bidder.”

“Wooow! Their divorce cost them both. So what happens now?” Shanelle asks. 

“Simple. We enter and win the bidding war to acquire Gemmora,” he replies. 

“No, we are not.” 

“Yes, we are.”

“No. We're not. We don't need Gemmora.”

“I'm not about to just let it sit there.”

“We already have Auvernal to the west and Monterisso to the south. We do not need Gemmora.”

“Yeah well, we're getting it.”

“Oh My God! You're being greedy.”

“Don't act like this isn't a great opportunity.” 

Shanelle crossed her arms and challenged her husband. 

“Okay, Your Majesty. Convince me to agree to this.” 

Marquise raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Gemmora is home to the largest Nintendo manufacturing plant outside of Japan. The jobs from that plant alone will bolster our kingdom’s economy. It will give us a chance to have land that will not be given to the nobility first for once. Their schools and educational system is one of the best in the world. Think of what that will do, not just for our children but all of the children of our kingdom. On top of the fact that their Aerodynamics sector is the best in all of Europe. They're a leader in cancer research and cure development. On top of the fact that it would be nice to acquire the homeland of my grandmother.” 

“Your grandmother is from Gemmora?” Shanelle asks. 

“Yes. Her father was a well known Duke in Gemmora before her family fled when she was a child to Cordonia during WWI and she met my grandfather,” he replies. 

“What is it with you Rys men and marrying outsiders?” Shanelle asks. 

Marquise chuckled and shrugged. 

“Okay fine, since I know you'll never let this go.”

“See? I knew you would eventually see things my way. Besides, Drakovia has wanted Gemmora for decades. So that means beating Queen Viktoria at her own game.” 

“You are so cocky,” Shanelle said with a laugh, “Okay. Go win us a kingdom, Your Majesty. Don't lose.”

“Always remember, I don't lose. I either win or I learn.”

“No one knows that more than me,” Shanelle said with a wink. 

Marquise winked back at her. This was his chance to expand his kingdom’s borders further north and east. And he is determined to take it. 

[zais-zeitgeist]

peephole

I open my eyes to the greyish ceiling covered in yellows and blues, or at least, those are the colours I assume they are. It is hard to really tell when there’s hardly any light coming into the room, except from the high ceiling’s barred window. I inhale in a strong stench, reeking of a revolting aftertaste of a medicinal drug. Another day in this animal cage, well… I chuckle. I suppose they did call me an animal, about a forever ago… How long ago was it? That day I decided to ask for more and was reduced to far less. Ever since then, this little jackbox has been my hell.

Don’t be fooled. This is no ordinary prison, but rather a trap with a key. They told me back a decade or two ago that I could leave if I found that key. Until then, I get to sit in a room with no light, no furniture, no fun, no pain, no punishment, just my portions free-falling down from that sky-high window, with no dinnerware or utensils.

I wouldn’t say that’s too bad, especially since my crime has been slaughtering his young royal highness… Thought they’d at least subject me to wrenching torture while trapped in here. Given that, it really doesn’t allow me to regret my choices. How can I be when this almost feels like a reward for my ‘crime’? A crime that was well-required. I might not know the next arc in this forsaken story, but I hope that my feats would grant me a chapter in the narrative, down here… It is too quiet, less for some whispers and clinks of metal. I am stuck down here, with nothing to do, nothing to experience, nothing to feel, except the exact same meals that are meant to keep me just alive… and a promise of an exit.

I was frantic to find the answer when I was first thrown here from the high window, my nose breaking from impact. However, this room is as bland as it looks, with nothing to investigate. I have reduced my observations to three. One: there’s a reason to keep me alive for so long. Two: the window, which was my only hope, is impossible to reach by climbing the smooth walls. And three: The window is not the only exit, at least not for me. There is a tiny hole in the ground, which I assume is what allowed me to not live with my own filth for the past several years. That’s the purpose I assigned to this insignificant hole, but I could have overlooked something: where it can lead.

Weirdly enough, this question feels both ancient and fresh in my mind, as if I have contemplated it a few thousand times in my mind but never arrived at an answer, not even a clue or a new path to go down. It felt unnecessary to give that faeces exit a fragment of my mind, not only because of its absurdity but also because it was something I had considered before. Or have I? Even though this question equipped much of my mind and time, it still was new somehow, as if I had an opportunity for an original thought. It must’ve been five hours since I started the day and just then, I arrived at it: I now know… something, something new. My eyes widen a fraction… And then…

Then…

Then…

Then…

“Warning. Inmate RK-2092 shows signs of higher cognition. TX-DSD-0109 is to be administered to cell RK-2092, the usual dosage of 1 Litre of gas. Wear your masks. Failure to conceal your face might result in short-term memory loss. Roger.”

I am sure I heard a distant sound, a human voice, and then my head sharply hit the floor.

My eyes flutter, yet again to be greeted by my ugly grey skies, my metallic sun mocking me. I really have grown old, lazy, and sluggish. Since when have I started sleeping the moment I open my eyes? I ruffle the long, clamped chunks of what is left of my hair.

I need to pee.