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criticallyinneedofadar · 26 days ago

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Across Time (7)

A/N: sorry for the delay guys, I totaled my car yesterday and have been dealing with that mess :(

Pairing: Adar x Former Elf! Reader

Warnings: None I don't think but let me know

Word Count: 3.8k

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Two weeks of shadows, of silent steps through the woods that bordered Adar’s camp. Two weeks of watching, waiting, and lingering just beyond the flickering firelight of the Uruks' encampment. You had made this grove your own; every branch, every snarl of roots was etched into your mind. The camp’s rhythms had become predictable—the Uruks’ gruff camaraderie, their bursts of laughter, their idle squabbles as they set up their makeshift village under the ashen sky. You found yourself almost… intrigued by their world. By the way they moved, ate, lived. There was a surprising peace here that you hadn’t expected, a kind of rough harmony.

And Adar—him, you’d watched most closely of all.

Occasionally, you caught a glimpse of him scanning the treeline, as though expecting to see something—or someone—moving just out of sight. Whether he knew you were there or not, you couldn’t say, but the thought that he might be looking for you, that he might care enough to search, sparked a flicker of warmth you couldn’t quite suppress.

Today, as you weave through the woods, you’re almost lost in the familiar rhythm of your patrol when something catches your attention. Voices—louder, more urgent than usual. Several Uruks march along the forest trail, escorting a figure bound in chains, his head lowered as he’s dragged forward. The sight makes you pause, crouching low behind a cluster of bushes, fingers instinctively reaching for your hidden dagger.

It only takes a moment for recognition to sink in. Halbrand—Galadriel’s companion. You’d seen him in her company before, his demeanor calm but shrewd, always quietly observing. But now… something is different. He moves with a heaviness, a quiet darkness clinging to him like a shadow, coiling around him. The sensation ripples through the air, faint yet unmistakable. Not as strong as Morgoth’s presence, but there is something unsettlingly familiar about it, like the echo of an old song you wish you’d forgotten.

Intrigued, and with caution tugging at the edges of your thoughts, you decide to follow. The Uruks’ path leads them toward the heart of the camp, toward Adar.

You watch from a distance as they enter the clearing where Adar sits, his throne carved roughly from the remains of an ancient, twisted tree that stands at the center of camp. There is an intensity in his gaze as he looks at Halbrand, though he makes no move to stand. His face is impassive, as if waiting for Halbrand to make the first move.

The Uruks push Halbrand forward, forcing him to kneel before Adar. The tension in the air thickens, and you find yourself lingering just at the edge of the clearing, concealed by the foliage, yet close enough to observe every flicker of expression, every murmur. The darkness that clings to Halbrand seems to pulse, as if recognizing Adar’s own twisted strength.

Halbrand is brought into the heart of Adar’s encampment, his hands bound and his expression unreadable. Two Uruks flank him, but he seems to barely notice, his eyes fixed on the figure seated in the center of the camp. Adar, his presence commanding in the smoky, dim light, watches Halbrand with an inscrutable gaze, a faint tension beneath his calm demeanor.

Halbrand finally raises his head, meeting Adar’s gaze with a smirk that’s almost mocking. “So,” he begins, his voice low, edged with contempt and dark humor. “You’re the one they call Adar.”

Adar says nothing, merely tilting his head, studying him with a quiet, dangerous curiosity. You, hidden at the edge of the shadows, can sense the intensity between them—a silent, palpable exchange brimming with animosity.

“You know who I am,” Halbrand presses, his tone a mixture of defiance and fascination. “And you know why I’m here.”

Adar remains silent, his expression impassive but his eyes sharp, waiting. Halbrand’s smirk widens, the amusement in his gaze growing darker. “Sauron lives,” he says, his voice laden with a weight that cuts through the air. “He’s alive and well, nestled in Eregion alongside an old ally, the Elven warrior Galadriel.”

For a flicker of a moment, you think you see Adar’s composure waver. But he quickly regains his stoic expression, his tone dismissive, almost scornful. “Sauron is dead,” he replies, each word deliberate, a statement of unshakable conviction.

But Halbrand merely shakes his head, his gaze unyielding. “I’ve seen him,” he insists. “Sauron intends to reclaim these lands, to tear apart everything you’ve built here. And if you stand by and do nothing, all of it will fall.”

The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the crackling of the campfire and the faint murmur of Uruks in the background. You can feel the weight of Halbrand’s words, the tension like a blade pressing against skin. Adar’s jaw tightens, a glint of frustration in his eyes, but he does not allow Halbrand’s words to sway him.

With a motion of his hand, Adar gestures to the Uruks beside him. “Take him to the cells,” he orders, his voice cold, unwavering. “Perhaps some time alone will cure him of these delusions.”

The Uruks close in, gripping Halbrand by the arms. Halbrand throws a final look back, his voice dripping with taunt and warning. “You can delay it all you want, Adar,” he says, his tone laced with dark amusement. “But Sauron will come for you—and when he does, there will be no mercy.”

As Halbrand is led away, the camp feels heavier, thick with the implications of his message. Adar sits silently on his throne, his expression unreadable, but his gaze betrays a flicker of unease. From your place in the shadows, you feel your fingers tighten around your dagger, ready to defend his command, no matter what darkness may threaten to consume it.

++++++++++

You crouch in the shadows of the damp stone cell, your heart heavy as you observe Halbrand through the narrow slits of the barred door. Days have passed since he was captured, and with each passing moment, your distrust of him deepens. He remains a mystery—a dark enigma wrapped in the remnants of a man who once stood with Galadriel.

Halbrand sits in the far corner, his back against the wall, weary yet defiant. Wildmen patrol the area, throwing jeers and insults his way. You watch them deliver beatings, demanding answers he refuses to provide. Each blow sends a shudder through you, a reminder of the brutality that underlies this new world you find yourself in. Halbrand grits his teeth, absorbing the punishment with a stoic silence that only fuels your unease.

When the wildmen finally tire of their taunts and leave, Halbrand is left alone, his body battered but his spirit unbroken. You see him pick at the meager scraps of food thrown into his cell, his demeanor unchanged, and for a moment, you wonder if he might be telling the truth. But the flicker of doubt in your gut pushes you to remain vigilant.

You decide to leave, feeling the weight of uncertainty settle heavily on your chest. As you turn to slip away, a strange sound catches your attention. A low growl emanates from nearby, where a warg is tied, its eyes filled with feral hunger. You pause, curiosity pulling you back to the shadows of the cell.

Suddenly, you see Halbrand lean forward, his expression shifting. In a voice that carries an eerie command, he begins to speak in the black speech—a language that sends chills down your spine. The warg’s growls soften, and its stance shifts as Halbrand offers it a piece of the food he had hoarded. It snatches the morsel from his hand, then settles obediently at his feet, as if enchanted by his presence.

Halbrand then lays back down against the stone, the fight in him flickering like the dying embers of a fire, his eyes closing in apparent serenity. The sight chills you to your core. This man, bound and imprisoned, has somehow found a way to communicate with a creature of darkness, bending it to his will.

You step back, your instincts screaming at you. Whatever Halbrand is planning, it’s more dangerous than you could have anticipated. Without a second thought, you turn and make your way back through the camp, urgency propelling your steps. You need to warn Adar of what you’ve witnessed, to ensure that he understands the threat that lurks in their midst.

Your heart races as you approach Adar's tent, the weight of your discovery heavy in your chest. You can’t shake the feeling that Halbrand’s cunning is as sharp as any blade, and you know it’s only a matter of time before he seeks to exploit it.

You push open the flap of Adar’s tent, the urgency of your news making you forget caution. Inside, you halt at the sight before you. Adar stands close to a young woman, one of the wildfolk—a girl, really, her skin marked by faint scars, her wild hair a cascade of untamed braids. They’ve been talking quietly, but both turn as you enter, and a strange silence settles over the tent.

For a heartbeat, jealousy twists in your chest, sharp and unbidden. The thought that Adar might seek comfort in such simplicity—someone soft and eager to warm his bed—stings more than you would ever admit. She seems so natural here, fitting into the ruggedness of his world. You quickly bury the feeling, setting your face into an indifferent mask.

Adar’s dark gaze shifts from the young woman to you, and with a nod, he dismisses her. She gives you one last glance, her face a flicker of curiosity and something close to smugness before she slips out. The tent flap falls closed behind her, and suddenly, the only presence filling the space is Adar’s. He watches you, waiting.

You straighten, forcing your voice into a steady tone. "I have news about Halbrand,” you begin. “Something I’ve observed over the past few days.”

He raises an eyebrow, his attention now fully fixed on you. You press on, recounting what you saw at the cells: Halbrand’s stoic silence under beatings, his unsettling use of the black speech to command the warg into submission. As you speak, you notice a flicker in Adar’s eyes—he already suspects.

“Adar, I believe Halbrand may be Sauron.” The words are heavy, solidifying a suspicion you’ve dreaded, but can no longer ignore.

A shadow passes over Adar’s face, and he lets out a slow, measured breath. “You see it too, then,” he murmurs, his voice low. “I had hoped… that perhaps he was simply another man touched by darkness. But his manner, his power… they hint at something far worse.”

He stands silent for a moment, then turns to you, his gaze unyielding. “We can’t confront him here, not in this camp,” he says, his voice hushed but urgent. “If he’s truly Sauron, challenging him would only bring his wrath down upon us—on the Uruks, the wildfolk, everyone here.”

You feel a chill settle over you, but nod, understanding the wisdom in his words. Adar continues, his tone laced with steely determination. “We’ll release him, let him believe he’s escaped. I’ll follow and see where he goes, how he moves. And when the time is right, we will end him—once and for all.”

The quiet finality of his words sends a shiver through you. You feel a renewed sense of purpose, and in this moment, whatever doubts you had about Adar’s resolve seem to fade. He’s determined to see this through, and you, by his side, are ready to face whatever may come.

You turn to leave, but the thought of Adar following Halbrand gnaws at you, twisting a knot of worry in your gut. The plan is risky—too risky. You hesitate, then turn back, unable to let it go.

"I should be the one to follow him," you say, meeting Adar's dark gaze. "You’re needed here, to lead your people. I’m… expendable."

A flicker of anger lights in Adar’s eyes. "Expendable?" His voice is low, cold, and yet it trembles slightly with barely controlled frustration. “How can you speak of yourself this way?”

Your voice sharpens, frustration boiling over. "I am expendable, Adar. That’s why I stayed. Because I have nothing left—no family, no people, no home. I’m a tool, a weapon. That’s all I’ve ever been, and if that’s all I can offer here, then let me do it. Let me be of some use."

Adar’s face darkens, a flash of something pained cutting through his stern gaze. "You think you’re just a weapon, and that’s all you’re fit to be?” He steps closer, his voice growing low and unyielding. “Is that why you hide in the shadows, waiting for enemies who might not come? Because you think if you’re not killing, you’re worth nothing?”

Your hands curl into fists at your sides. “If I’m not doing that, then what am I here for? You don’t need me. Your people don’t need me.”

Adar’s eyes blaze with a rare intensity. "You’re wrong. You think I wouldn’t notice the dangers that’ve been kept from my camp? That I haven’t seen how you’ve guarded them, time and again? You’ve protected them in silence, hidden in the trees, risking yourself every time. You do this because you’re not a tool, but you can’t see it.”

His words cut deep, and you look away, feeling the weight of his gaze. “I do it because… because it’s all I know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “If I’m not fighting, then what else is there for me? I’ve been trained to kill, to defend. It’s the only purpose I’ve ever had.”

Adar’s eyes narrow, his face unreadable. “Do you really believe that, or is that just what you’ve been told? Because I look at you and see someone who could make her own choices, someone with the strength to decide what her life is worth.” His voice softens, barely a murmur, but the words linger in the air. “You don’t belong to anyone—not to your past, and not to me.”

The words sting, and something raw twists inside you, a bitterness you didn’t even realize you held. “If I have a choice, then why did you push me away? You made it clear you didn’t want me here,” you retort, bitterness edging into your voice. "You said I was free to leave, that you didn’t need me chained to this place.”

Adar’s gaze softens, and he sighs, the sound tinged with something almost like regret. “Yes, because I wanted you to know you were free to stay on your own terms—not as someone bound to this life out of desperation or duty. Not as a weapon, or a tool. I wanted you here because you chose to be here, not because you believed it was all you were worth.”

Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you can’t bring yourself to respond. No one’s ever said that to you before, no one’s ever cared whether you had a choice. You feel stripped bare under his gaze, your usual defenses crumbling as his words sink in, deeper than you want them to. It’s easier to argue, easier to fall back into anger.

"And what choice do I really have, Adar?” you challenge, fighting the urge to look away. “You think I can just… throw everything away and be someone else? Just leave all of it behind and pretend I wasn’t made for this?”

“No,” he replies, his voice calm but unyielding. “But you don’t have to let it define you. You have more strength in you than the simple act of violence. You’ve been here, guarding my people, caring for them in your own way. You say you have no purpose, yet you chose to stay and fight for them.”

“Because there was nothing else!” you snap, feeling raw, exposed. “Because I’m good for nothing else, Adar! This is all I am. All I’ll ever be.”

Adar’s jaw tightens, and he takes another step closer, his eyes locking onto yours with fierce conviction. “No. You’re wrong.” His voice is low but resolute, a tone you’ve rarely heard from him. “You have more worth than any blade, more strength than any weapon. And I will not have you reduce yourself to something so small, so disposable. Not here.”

The words hang heavy in the air between you, and you feel a strange, unwelcome warmth creep into your chest, a hollow ache that feels like it’s been waiting to break open. You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to respond to this unexpected intensity. His gaze holds you, unwavering, full of something you don’t know how to process.

“You may think you’re nothing more than a weapon,” Adar continues, his voice softening, “but that’s not what I see. I see someone who has a choice, who has value, who has a life worth more than the sharpness of her blade. And if you can’t see that, then I will keep telling you until you do.”

Your throat tightens, and for a moment, words fail you. His conviction is a weight pressing down on your walls, and you’re left reeling, unable to meet his gaze. You look down, feeling strangely vulnerable, stung by the way he’s shattered your armor with just his words.

“Why do you care so much?” you murmur, barely able to voice the question.

Adar is silent for a moment, then he sighs, and you can hear the softness in his voice, a tenderness that feels both foreign and familiar. “Because you’re not expendable. Not to me.”

The rawness in his voice, the depth in his gaze—it’s all too much, and you feel your breath hitch, unable to look away. For the first time, the silence between you feels alive with unspoken things, things that neither of you have dared to name.

And in that silence, for the first time, you find yourself questioning everything you once thought you knew about your worth, about the value of your own life.

The firelight flickers across Adar’s face, casting sharp shadows that make his expression unreadable as you look up at him. His words linger between you, heavy with meaning, and you can feel the warmth of his gaze still pressing on you.

You clear your throat, looking down to avoid his piercing eyes. “You’ve given me much to think on,” you murmur. “But… if we’re to take this threat seriously, I should still be the one to follow him when he leaves. He won’t suspect me, and if he’s as dangerous as we think…” You hesitate, glancing back up at Adar. “Then you’re too important to risk, Adar. The people here need you.”

Adar’s gaze softens, and though he doesn’t fully relax, you see something almost like acceptance in his eyes. “I can’t fault your logic,” he admits, his voice low. “But I still have unfinished business with him.” He pauses, then nods. “Come. I want you there when I speak to him. I want you to see what he truly is.”

You nod, falling into step beside him as you walk toward the tent where Halbrand is being held. The night is thick and still, a solemn quiet settling over the camp, and you find yourself strangely nervous. Adar strides with purpose, his presence commanding even in silence. You can feel your pulse quicken, knowing this encounter will reveal more than any of Halbrand’s words have so far.

Inside the tent, Halbrand sits chained, his face a mask of calm that barely conceals a flicker of something darker beneath. Adar enters first, his steps unhurried, each movement precise and measured as he approaches Halbrand. There’s an intensity in his expression you’ve rarely seen—a hardness and a focus that makes you instinctively tense, watching with bated breath.

Adar’s gaze is unflinching as he looks down at Halbrand, his voice cold and unwavering. “You claim you’ve come to help the Southlands,” he begins, his tone steady and sharp, “yet your motives remain… unclear.” He circles Halbrand slowly, his eyes assessing, scrutinizing every inch of the man before him.

Halbrand tilts his head, smirking slightly. “I’ve told you my purpose,” he says smoothly, but there’s a hint of defiance in his eyes. “You’re the one who doubts me.”

Adar steps closer, his presence looming, his shadow stretching across Halbrand’s form. “Then prove it,” he says, his voice low and edged with steel. “Swear fealty.”

Halbrand’s smirk falters, and a flicker of uncertainty crosses his face, but Adar doesn’t waver. He gestures to the ground before him, his expression resolute. “Kneel. Lay your head at my feet and swear your loyalty to me, here and now.”

The silence that follows is electric, thick with tension. You watch, barely daring to breathe, as Halbrand hesitates. For a moment, his gaze flickers up to Adar’s, as if weighing his options, but Adar’s stare is unrelenting, his command unbreakable.

Finally, with a grudging slowness, Halbrand lowers himself to his knees, his jaw clenched tight. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes, but he obeys, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to the ground at Adar’s feet. The sight sends a shiver down your spine—this dark figure, subdued and vulnerable before Adar’s iron will.

You glance up at Adar, feeling a thrill as you take in his stance—strong, authoritative, unyielding. The firelight flickers across his face, casting him in an almost ethereal glow, his features shadowed yet striking. He radiates a power and control that leaves you breathless, and you find yourself mesmerized by the fierce command in his gaze, the unbreakable strength that holds even someone like Halbrand in check.

Adar’s voice is steady, laced with quiet menace as he speaks. “If you so much as waver in your loyalty, if I sense even a hint of treachery, you will suffer the full weight of my wrath.” He leans down slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Remember this.”

Halbrand’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing, his face an expressionless mask. You watch, your heart pounding, as Adar straightens, towering over him with a commanding presence that is undeniable, almost regal. He glances briefly in your direction, his gaze catching yours, and for a fleeting moment, you see a glint of satisfaction in his eyes—as if he knows the effect he has on you, the way he’s left you breathless.

At last, Adar steps back, his expression once again unreadable as he regards Halbrand. “Rise,” he commands, his tone as cool as steel. Halbrand lifts his head, and though his face is carefully blank, you can sense the simmering resentment beneath.

Adar turns, his gaze resting on you as he speaks. “Tomorrow,” he says, his voice softer, “we’ll set things into motion. For now, you’ve seen enough.”

You nod, feeling a strange, lingering thrill that you can’t quite shake. As you follow Adar out of the tent, you’re left with the powerful image of him standing over Halbrand, his will unbreakable, his authority absolute. And somewhere within you, you feel the warmth of admiration—tinged, perhaps, with something deeper, something you’re not yet ready to name.

#the rings of power #fanfiction #adar #adar rings of power #adar x you #adar fanfic #adar x reader #rings of power s2 #adar series #across time

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bluehoodiewoozi · 2 years ago

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You Changed Everything

Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi) x gn!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Word Count: 10,6k

Wanings: some stronger language. mentions of violence, blood and injuries. it is implied that y/n was in a gang. small food and alcohol mentions.

[Series: Serenity Street 17] Two runaways meet in a bar and decide to get an apartment together to escape their worries. Their relationship has fuzzy borders from then on as they explore each other’s past and worries.

Note: a lot more angst than i’m used to writing but my bestie said the fic is just a mildly angsty house husband au, so idek.

You met him on a rainy summer evening.

Though you had put in some effort to dress up nicer than you usually would, you still looked and felt like a mess. Your drink sloshed around in the glass but you had little to no interest in it that night. If anything, it was an excuse to escape to this bar.

You barely liked the place more than you liked the people in it, but you supposed it was an improvement from your normal life. At the very least the lights were prettier there, shining gold and red.

Your thoughts drowned out any sound that echoed between the walls. Perhaps that’s why he caught you off-guard.

“I’ll have a tequila, please,” he called out to the bartender and practically fell into the seat next to yours, startling you out of your thoughts so hard that a drop of your drink fell onto your fingers.

Eyes wide, you watched this man who somehow looked worse than you did. His hair was haphazardly bleached blonde and cut, a few black pieces peeking through here and there; it was a mess from the number of times he must’ve run his hand through it.

“Rough day?” the bartender asked him while placing the tequila glass down.

The man scoffed and slumped against the counter. “It always is.”

Before he could ask anything more, the bartender was called elsewhere, leaving the two of you there alone. You couldn’t help but laugh a little – you hadn’t laughed in days – as he downed the tequila and cursed right after.

“Not much of a tequila guy?” you inquired.

His eyes widened in surprise at the sound of your voice, but a small smile appeared on his face nevertheless. “No, but I figured I should try something different.

“You don’t look like you’re in a much better place mentally,” he tried to joke without even realising how right he was. “So, what’s your tale?”

“I’m not big on sharing,” you told him that evening and took a swig of your drink, “but if you’re patient enough, you might find out.”

He smiled at your words – whether he was amused, understanding or too much of a jokester for his own good you’d never know. Then, he extended his hand. “I’m Soonyoung.”

To the surprise of both of you, a few exchanged sentences turned into hours of talking. By the time the bartender kicked you out (not before asking Soonyoung to cover the both of your bills, which he begrudgingly did) you were so far drunk and gone that you could barely stand up straight.

You rarely let yourself get to this point, afraid of letting your guard down and getting in trouble that would end with more than a slap on the wrist or a black eye. But this time you couldn’t be bothered to hold back. A new city, a new you – you repeated that to yourself every time you took a shot.

The more you talked, the more you realised the two of you were at the same point in your lives. The same chapter of a different book of a similar genre.

“Hey, here’s an idea,” you started with drunken giggles as the two of you stumbled through the streets together later that night.

Soonyoung seemed only a little more sober than you, seeing as he was the one providing most of the balance the two of you shared on your trip. Still, his face was red and he was laughing non-stop at just about anything, so maybe he just had very good balance. He nudged and prompted you, “What idea? Tell me, tell me!”

“What if we–” You burst into giggles again. “No, we couldn’t possibly.”

“We couldn’t?” he seemed almost scandalised that you would suggest something so preposterous – whatever it was you were suggesting.

“Okay, hear me out,” you eventually managed to get out when you got a break from your laughter, “your life sucks, my life sucks, we’re both new here – let’s move in together.”

He stopped in his steps, halting you with him. His eyes seemed to clear at the idea. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t have a place to stay and not enough money to cover the rent of anything alone. But together– Together we could rent an apartment, somewhere in this city.”

A smile appeared on his face and your drunk self felt a little weak at the knees at the sight. How had you stumbled upon this gorgeous specimen at all?

To your utter surprise, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder a little tighter and nodded, slurring his words a little as he answered, “That sounds wonderful. Let’s do that. Together.”

You moved into apartment 4C close to midnight only a week later. It was then that you learned that Soonyoung wasn’t particularly fond of the dark. Funnily enough, the darkness was where you felt most comfortable.

And yet, as you walked around your new home, 4C was like something out of a horror film.

The ceiling had obvious water damage. The floors were covered in dust and bits of dried mud. And the bathroom made such terrifying noises that Soonyoung had to ask you to keep watch outside the door every time he used it.

Even the guy in charge had seemed baffled in your interest in the place when he showed you the apartment two days ago. But this was all the two of you could afford.

Fortunately, there wasn’t much to carry up the stairs. You and Soonyoung only had a single bag each. You and your trusty backpack, Soonyoung and his suitcase – that was all you had.

Be the state of the furniture of the apartment as it may, at least it was there. You had a sofa, a dining table and a queen-sized bed – what more could you possibly need?

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” you told your new roommate as the two of you looked around, exhausted from your journey. “You take the bed.”

He didn’t seem to like the idea as much as you expected him to. Instead of a grateful smile, what you received was a disapproving scowl. “No, I’ll take the sofa. You take the bed.”

You were baffled at his response. It didn’t take much to figure out that this man was used to living in luxury – he wore a button-up shirt on moving day, for crying out loud! Why would he possibly give up the bed?

“It’s fine, Soonyoung,” you insisted and prepared to settle down on the sofa. “I’ll be fine. You can spread out on the bed.” You felt a little jealous of him, really.

“But that’s not very fair,” he said and pulled you back up just as you managed to lie down. Before you could protest, he took your place and melted into the cushions. “You go sleep in the bed and tomorrow we can– Ow!”

He sat up as fast as he lied down and glared at the sofa before lifting his hand to inspect it. A bloody scratch stood in his palm, thin and painful – you thought it a warning.

“That’s it,” you sighed and pulled him up just like had done for you just moments ago, “we’re both sleeping on the bed. At least it has a new mattress.”

Soonyoung grumbled under his breath as he realised that he couldn’t be the perfect gentleman this time. Not with this cut in his hand.

“Really,” he cursed under his breath and glared at the scratch while blindly following after you by the hold you had on his sleeve, “who even gets injured by a sofa?”

“You, apparently,” you told him with a scoff before pushing him to sit on the bed.

You turned on the single light in the room and found that the bed was a little smaller than you had thought. Still, you brought this upon yourself, so with another sigh, you picked up your backpack and rummaged through it.

“What are you looking for?”

“The first-aid kit.”

“Why do you have a first-aid kit in there?”

“Because of you, it seems,” you bit back before victoriously digging the item out and throwing it on the bed. “There, clean that scratch. God knows what that couch has seen. I don’t want to nurse you back to health from the dead.”

“Aw, you care,” he giggled as he looked through the little red bag.

You rolled your eyes and shrugged off your leather jacket. “No. I just don’t have the money to pay this rent alone.”

“That’s what they all say,” he joked before thanking you nonetheless.

While he cleaned and dressed his wound, you took it upon yourself to make the bed. The owner had been kind enough to get you a brand new mattress, two blankets and three pillows as well as some bed sheets. You hoped they’d be as comfortable to sleep on as they looked.

Once the bed was made and you lied under the covers, the situation sank in. You were finally independent and free and you hadn’t had to do anything really illegal to achieve any of this. All it had taken was a friend.

Said friend grumbled on the other side of the bed. “Why is it so cold here?”

“The landlord said the heating would take some time to start,” you reminded him softly and tried to get comfortable with the idea of sharing the bed, as big or small as it was. “Just pull the blankets around yourself a little tighter, Soonyoung.”

Silence filled the room. Too loud to let you sleep just yet. When you let out a defeated sigh, Soonyoung spoke up again, “I don’t want to seem rude or needy or anything but–”

“What is it?” you mumbled and turned to face him.

“Can I hold you?” he whispered after a hesitant pause before ranting on, “I’m sorry. I just can’t sleep unless I hold something and it’s cold and you’re here anyway, so I just thought–”

To this day you don’t know what came over you that night. You didn’t let him finish his sentence before you wrapped yourself around his frame. Your arms comfortably rested around his torso, your head on his chest. You could hear his breath hitch and his heartbeat pick up before his arm wrapped around your body.

“Better?” you mumbled into his chest, thankful that it was too dark to see. It made it easier to forget you were actually cuddling a real human-being and not a giant pillow.

Soonyoung sighed softly, relieved and happy, before humming. “Better. Good night. Sleep well.”

You didn’t get the chance to reply – you had never fallen asleep faster.

Your apartment felt empty still even after three whole days. It felt less like a home and more like a shell. And yet you hadn’t felt so comfortable in years. A little worn-down, lacking a lot of the essentials, but free and, most importantly, safe from your past.

“It’ll feel more like home eventually,” Soonyoung whispered as he sat next to you on the small torn couch, his side pressing against yours. You felt his gaze on you, his voice impossibly small as he added on, “Right?”

You were still hesitant as well. Without much thought, you leaned into the comfort his warmth offered and rested against your head on his shoulder. It scared you how quickly you had grown used to his presence and affection and – worst of all – how fast you had started to reciprocate.

“The sunrise is beautiful,” you whispered back instead of answering his question, eyes still stuck on the view out of your living room window. A nice big window with a beautiful view towards the river – just like you’d always dreamed.

Soonyoung chuckled and rested his head against yours. “It’ll only become more beautiful the longer we stay here, I’m sure. We came all this way to see it.”

And come a long way you had, from the cold and unforgiving streets of the city. You could only hope this would be the turning point of your life and you could now finally forget your past.

“Do you think we could get a pet?” he then asked you. “I think a dog could make this place more lively.”

“No,” you told him before you could even fully comprehend and contemplate. You had always wanted a dog, or a cat. But old habits die hard.

He pouted. “But why?”

“Just because.”

“Because…?” he attempted to get an answer out of you, eyes shining hopefully.

You bit your tongue despite the excuses threatening to come out one by one: “because we can’t afford one”, “because I don’t trust myself to care for another being”, “because what if my past catches up with me?”. You held your mouth shut and just shook your head instead of voicing any of those reasons.

“Fine,” he groaned in defeat. “But I will win one day and you won’t be able to deny my request any longer.”

A part of you doubted you’d even stay in his life long enough to see that day. But the other part of you was just as hopeful as he was, if not more, and eagerly awaited that day.

“Can we at least decorate this place?” he then wondered, already eyeing places for trinkets and flower pots. “It’s so cold and empty.”

“Decorate?” You wanted to laugh. “You and what money? We need to find jobs first.”

With an offended scoff, he sat up and glared at you before starting, “I’ll have you know that I have–” and just like that he trailed off and shut up.

“Right,” he eventually mumbled and reached up to run a hand through his hair, “we’re poor.”

That word could barely even cover your situation. You had been lucky to get anything more than a house-shaped cardboard box for the cash the two of you scratched up just a week ago. It had taken some busking on his part (something you found he was decently good at) and a secret threat to a random guy in the streets on your part (something you knew you were very good at). The apartment was barely up to the standards of any person and yet here you sat.

The only places you had managed to clean so far were the bathroom, the one usable bedroom, and the living room window. This place was a complete mess but now it was your mess and, despite its many shortcomings, you were proud of it.

“Maybe we could clean the kitchen tomorrow,” you suggested after a pause.

Soonyoung grinned at the idea. “Yeah, it would be nice to finally have some homemade food.”

“When was the last time you had any?”

He frowned in thought and began counting, his lips moving without a sound as he did so. Eventually he said, “About a year ago? Back when I lived with my parents. Mother used to cook the most delicious bulgogi and my grandmother’s kimchi was out of this world–”

As you listened to him reminiscing, it hit you that you couldn’t remember the last time you saw your parents. You could barely even recall their faces. It had been far more than a year.

Soonyoung’s voice suddenly faded into silence. You didn’t even realise because you were so lost in your daze – in an attempt to recall your mother’s smile or your father’s voice, or anything really. Why was there nothing you could fully remember about them? Had you really already worn those bright memory photos down to blurry smudges?

The walk down memory lane came to an abrupt stop when you felt the warmth of a hand against your cheek.

As he gently wiped your face, Soonyoung spoke in a voice that seemed almost impossibly soft, “Why are you crying?”

“I–” You hadn’t even realised you were crying, but indeed, tears were rolling down your cheeks and your breathing was heavier than before. You had walked a little too far into your memory. “Sorry, I don’t know what–”

“Don’t apologise,” he interrupted and carefully pulled you into his embrace. “You never have to apologise to me.”

“Life will get better soon,” he added after a moment of letting you cry into his shoulder. “Let’s just hang on a little longer. We have this entire place to fix up and decorate.”

You sighed. “We’ll have to find jobs first.”

“I’m sure we can manage that. Together.” He offered the most endearing smile, one so full of hope that your frozen heart swelled at the sight. “After all, everybody else has jobs. How hard can it really be?”

It was only a week later that Soonyoung burst into the apartment with a wide bright smile and papers in hand. He immediately located you on the sofa and practically threw himself at you.

“Guess what!”

You blinked at him slowly before softly sighing and asking, “What?”

“No, you’re supposed to guess,” Soonyoung whined and squished your cheeks together for his own amusement. “So, guess.”

Taking a deep breath, you pushed his hand away so you could speak. “You saw a cute dog?”

He paused. “Actually, yes, I did that too.”

“Really?” You hadn’t expected it to be true, honestly.

“Yeah, the guy living across the hall has this fluffy white dog,” he told you, almost getting distracted already. Almost. “But that’s not it. I have far more important news.”

“What news?”

This time he just about stomped his feet and glared at you in disappointment. “I said you’re supposed to guess.”

“Why did I agree to move in with you?” you wondered under your breath before clearing your throat. “Okay, fine. Did you get free food?”

“Man, that would’ve been nice,” he breathed out – and you felt a little disappointed as well because you could only eat so much instant ramen before it became too much – but he still shook his head. “One more chance.”

“You… Yeah, I have no idea.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted only briefly before a bright smile took over and held the papers out for you to read. “I got us a job.”

Your eyes widened and you sat up immediately, grabbing the papers to inspect them. “You got a job?”

“For us both,” he beamed and awaited praise, much like a little puppy. “How is it? Didn’t I do good?”

Unfortunately for him, you were too baffled to give him the compliments and head pats he so deserved. “How?”

Though he was clearly a little let down by the lack of praises, he still smiled brightly as he proudly recounted the tale. “I ran into one of the girls who lives in this building – Mina, or something like that – and she said that her parents need help with their shop and she remembered that we were new in the city, so she set us up. They want to meet us the day after tomorrow for our first day at their shop.”

“A shop?” You supposed it was better than joining another streetgang for quick dirty money. At least this sounded legal. “What do they sell there?”

Soonyoung squinted in thought, eyeing a random spot on the wall as he tried to sound out what he remembered. “I think it was a bookstore? Or a bar that has books? Or a–” He sighed in defeat. “Something to do with books.”

“I like books.”

“I don’t, but I’m willing to take anything at this point,” he breathed out and leaned back against the sofa. He let out a groan of pain barely a second later and sat back up to stare at the very spot he had just leaned against. “I don’t care what you say: I’m blowing my first paycheck on a new sofa.”

You laughed at that and he practically lit up at the sound, eyes bright as he watched you. Despite feeling shy under his gaze, you couldn’t help but elaborate on your amusement: “You do know how much a sofa costs?”

“Absolutely not,” he admitted without any shame, “but it can’t cost more than our future health bills without a normal sofa.”

You had to agree with that.

“How’s your hand?” you then remembered to ask.

He shrugged and looked at it. “It seems fine. A little sore at times, but I think it’s almost healed.”

“Good,” you smiled and gave him a pat on the head. “I’m glad.”

“And you’re proud that I got us jobs,” he urged with a playful smile, leaning a little too close to you, “right? I did good, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. Much like one would do to a puppy, you finally gave him headpats and cooed, “Yes, you did so well. I’m so proud of you.”

He giggled at your affection but made no moves to reject it. In fact, he leaned further into your space and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Thank you.”

“No,” you sighed and held him close, “thank you.”

Soonyoung hadn’t been too far off with his job descriptions. It indeed had to do with books – a café-library hybrid. Exactly the type you had imagined when you were still young and naive. For the past ten years, you hadn’t even thought this kind of business could actually exist.

Under Mina’s supervision, Soonyoung was appointed the newest waiter at the café section. It took him a few days to get a hold of the coffee maker and the cash-register system.

In the meantime, the far less sociable you was in charge of tending to his near-daily burns as well as restocking and organising the bookshelves.

It was a perfect work division and you didn’t even mind the job too much – especially not when Soonyoung all but ran over to you with a fresh cup of your favourite hot beverage every time there were no customers in the building.

“Did you make this by yourself this time?” you asked between sips.

Soonyoung was practically shining, his chest buffed out proudly, as he nodded. “How is it? Better than last time, right?”

“Well, it doesn’t taste burnt this time,” you half-joked and pinched his cheek affectionately. “Good job.”

“Yes!” He just about vibrated in his place, excited to see improvements in his work. “I’ll become the best barista this town has ever seen.”

“Considering you couldn’t even figure out how to use a kettle the other day, I really can’t wait.”

“Right? Me neither.” He smiled at you, choosing to ignore the little jab at his technical skills. “How are the books treating you today?”

You glanced at the return cart. “It’s not the worst day. It’s manageable.”

“We got really lucky with this job, huh?” he thought out loud. “We should get paid today.”

“Still going to buy a new sofa with the first check?” you teased.

He scoffed as if he felt offended by your words. “The moment we get out tomorrow, we’re going to IKEA. I’m not even joking. I cannot stand that damn thing anymore.”

“And how do you suppose we get that thing to the fourth floor?”

He preferred to not embarrass himself by admitting that he hadn’t really thought that far yet. Instead, he cleared his throat and gestured to the return cart. “Do you need help with those? Mina said I’m not allowed at the counter because I keep stealing her loyal customers.”

“That’s what you get for being too handsome,” you joked and handed him a book to put on the shelf.

He grinned. “You think I’m handsome? Really?”

“What? You thought you’re getting all those tips just for being so good at making coffee?”

“Well,” he paused and pressed his lips together into a tight line of defeat, “no, but–”

“But?”

A confident smile came back onto his lips. “But it’s nice to hear that you think I’m handsome.”

You scoffed and shoved a book to his chest. “I’m never admitting anything to you again.”

“You can’t help it. You think I’m handsome.”

You chose to not interact with him for the rest of the work day, aside from a few hums, remarks and laughs at his dumb jokes. No one could fully ignore Soonyoung. The day went by faster in his presence.

To your surprise, you had multiple notifications when you finally remembered to check your phone. A bank notification to inform you of the paycheck going through – you let out a little sound of cheer because you were officially no longer poor to the point of hunger – and two messages from a number that made your blood run cold.

[did you really think you could just run to a different city and your debts would be forgotten?]

[tomorrow, 8 pm, the corner of rosewood and williams. bring the money and don’t be late.]

And just like that your week took a sharp left turn towards hell.

“You’re not coming to the store with me?” Soonyoung wondered in surprise as the two of you walked out of the store. “Why not?”

You hated lying to Soonyoung. So you didn’t. “There’s someone I have to meet.”

Not a lie. Just an omission. He would never know. It was for the best.

“Am I supposed to pick the sofa out on my own then?” he pouted and tugged at your sleeve. “But it’s your sofa too.”

“I trust your taste.”

Now, maybe you weren’t entirely uncomfortable with lying to him. But this was a lie so dumb and bold that it might as well have been a joke with how annoyed he looked.

You groaned under his scrutinising stare. “Fine. You can just text me when you think you found something you like. And then I’ll say if I like it or not.”

He seemed a little hesitant still, almost as if he knew that your plans for the evening were too dangerous for you to go on your own. But he trusted you. You wished he didn’t.

Finally, he sighed softly and nodded. “Fine. But if you don’t answer within five minutes of each text, I have the right to be mad.”

“Deal.”

“Deal!” He smiled proudly at that and nodded. “I’ll go and find us a sofa then.”

“How are you going to get it inside?” you still wondered.

He rolled his eyes, making a show of his tiredness of you underestimating him. “I already talked to Jihoon. He promised to help and get some of the other guys to help as well.”

“Good,” you smiled and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. Somehow you felt the need to show him you cared in this moment. “Don’t strain your back, okay?”

He nodded, looking a little solemn at the realisation that you really wouldn’t go along with him. Briefly you wondered if he actually did know where you were going as he took your hand and insistently looked into your eyes. His voice wavered a little as he told you, “You be safe too, alright? Call me if anything happens.”

“Of course,” you breathed out and shook off his hand before heading your way. How you wished you could keep your promise.

As you made your way to the meeting point, you briefly wondered if you were doing the right thing at all. This was something the you from your hometown would’ve done. You would’ve liked to believe that the you of this city was brave enough to not even bother with your past.

Maybe it would’ve been smarter to call the authorities and ask them for help. Heck, even asking for help of one of the guys living in your building could have had better consequences than your current plan.

But your mind was already made up: you were going to break out of this circle the only way you knew how – by facing it head-first.

You reached the the corner of Rosewood and Williams just a minute before 8. When you did, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. When you checked it, you couldn’t help but sigh at Soonyoung’s name on the screen. As you were about to reply, however, a voice interrupted you.

“Glad to see you’re still as punctual as ever. Now, where is my money?”

You took a deep calming breath. It used to be a lot easier to fake nonchalance before you met Soonyoung. He had changed you.

“I don’t have your money.”

When you turned to face the woman, you did so with the knowledge that it would be your last time to do this, one way or another…

Soonyoung never did hear back from you after the two of you went your different ways in the street. Though he had expected you to ignore his texts and calls, even expected you to come home a little late, he truthfully wasn’t even half-prepared for the anxiety the situation would bring him.

He spent the better part of the night pacing back and forth in the apartment. He was restless – more so than ever before. He hadn’t even been able to pick out a new sofa despite his generous paycheck because he was simply that worried.

There had been something off about you when you bid goodbye that evening and he both feared and waited the moment you’d come home. Even when he tried to rest, he couldn’t go to sleep until you came back to him.

At around 2 am he gave up on sleep and simply sat down on the floor in the middle of the living room, facing the front door as if it could open at any moment now. Between his anxious sighs and curses, he unlocked his phone in hopes of an update. When there was no sign of you even there, he groaned and texted Jihoon to let him know – the man was his only friend in this building besides you.

The clock dragged on.

3 am – nothing.

4 am – nothing but it appeared that Jihoon had fallen asleep in spite of Soonyoung’s panic.

5 am. He heard a rustle at the door.

At first he paid it no mind, assuming it was Seungkwan and Bookkeu going for their morning walk. But his half-asleep brain kicked right into gear when he heard the sound of keys against the lock – against your lock.

Without a second to lose, he jumped up – a little sore from sitting on the ground all night.

He just about cried when he opened the door to find you there. “Where were you?! It’s 5 in the morning!”

You could only whine in response, all of your energy going into staying even somewhat upright. It took Soonyoung a moment to realise your distress, but once he did, he flew right into action.

“Wait,” he gasped as he helped you inside, “you’re bleeding?!”

“Just a little,” you told him and sat on the chair he promptly pulled out for you. “It’s fine.”

Soonyoung looked ready to scream when you told him that. But he must’ve realised that was a dumb idea because he squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and then mumbled under his breath, “I’m so killing you after this, I swear to god–” He ran towards the bathroom all while still grumbling, “Where’s that stupid first aid kit? Under the sink?”

You could only grit your teeth and fight the urge to cry. You weren’t one to cry – crying meant weakness and Soonyoung had seen you at your weakest two more times than you would have liked.

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital? What if you die?” he scolded you once he emerged from the dimly lit bathroom with a familiar red bag.

He placed it onto the counter next to you and prompted you to lift your shirt enough to show him the wound. You shook your head and pushed him away before reaching for the bag yourself. With practised grace, you pulled out the disinfectant and bandages. “Don’t come any closer.”

“I just want to help–”

“You’ll get nightmares,” you interrupted him while doing everything you could to not cry out when the disinfectant touched your skin. After letting out a muffled hiss, you looked up to still find him there, staring like he couldn’t look away. You rolled your eyes at the sight. “Soonyoung. I’m serious. I can do this myself.”

He seemed almost sad at the mention. “Yeah, but… Just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to.”

You sighed and continued to clean the blood. “Just let me be.”

“What happened to you?” he eventually asked your most feared question. You didn’t dare open your mouth to answer. Yet, he pressed on, his voice rising a little with each passing question. “Who was it? Was it that someone you had to meet? What did they do to you?” When you still didn’t dare answer, he scoffed and his worry grew into anger. “I asked who did this to you?!”

You gulped. “An old… acquaintance.”

“Acquaintance?”

It was then that you realised that he wouldn’t leave you alone before he got the full story. You didn’t like that idea one bit. “Soonyoung, you don’t need to know any more. Just leave it.”

He rolled his eyes and clenched his teeth. “Let me get this straight: you think I should watch my roommate– no, my closest friend walk in, blood all over them, at the dead of the night – hell, it’s morning! – and just leave it?” He just about laughed at the idea. “You won’t let me tend to your wounds, so at least tell me what happened. You owe me that much.”

A deep breath – painful due to your injuries – and a sigh. You hesitantly began, “I used to hang out with some… horrible people. I didn’t like to, but I didn’t have a lot of better options around. So, I became a horrible person too.”

“You were in a gang?” His eyes widened before he looked away, as if he was ashamed of even knowing you. At least so you assumed – it was a look you were accustomed to, at least. But when he looked back at you, his eyes were brimming with tears. “They came to get back at you for something, didn’t they?”

You cringed. “I may have stolen some of their cash and… told on them to the police in exchange for a new start.”

Soonyoung wasn’t the smartest guy in town, or even the building, but it appears he was smarter than you. “You didn’t think one of those bad guys would find out and come to get back at you? Didn’t even consider it?”

“Not really, no.” You refused to actually admit that you were that dumb just a few months ago. At least you refused to admit it directly. “I guess I was just foolishly hopeful.”

He let out a deep sigh, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against the counter, staring up at the ceiling to blink back the tears of both rage and sorrow he felt for you.

Silence once again filled the room as the two of you stood there, one cleaning their wounds and the other thinking thoughts unknown to the other. Finally, after what felt like forever, once you had wrapped the bandages around your abdomen and arm, Soonyoung looked at you again.

The tears were gone and a glint of fire burned in his eyes instead. His voice was uncharacteristically cold as he uttered, “They won’t touch a hair on your body again. I’ll make sure of it.”

You blinked in confusion. “How exactly?”

He didn’t offer another word of explanation. Instead, he sighed and glanced at the clock before rubbing his eyes and yawning. He offered you a narrow-eyed stare and an accusatory pointed finger. “You’re not coming to work tomorrow.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You’re taking a sick day, maybe a week. I’ll talk to Mina about it, don’t worry,” he told you, his voice still low and even before he made his way to the bedroom. You followed soon after.

“We need the money though,” you argued all the while trying hide your limp.

He turned around to offer a pointed stare. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine–”

His voice rose again, “Did you forget the part where you almost died?!” He took a calming breath, closing his eyes before adding in a whisper, “You’re staying home and that’s final.”

You didn’t dare argue.

Though you were anxious of what was yet to come, of how your relationship with Soonyoung would go on, it appeared your exhaustion won. The bed had never felt so comfortable and safe, if a little cold without his arms around you this time.

In fact, he made a conscious effort to remain on his side of the bed this time, barely willing to graze against you as the two of you slept.

But when the morning finally came, even through your sleep, you felt a hand softly brushing over your cheeks and soft murmurs of promises you would forget by the time you woke up.

You spent the next day home, alone. It was lonely and cold without Soonyoung around as his presence had largely made up for the lack of decorations and home-like feeling in the apartment.

When he didn’t as much as spare you a second glance in the morning, you first worried your secrecy had enraged him to a point of silence and the ruins of your friendship.

You spent half the day in bed, contemplating if you could really face the day when you had managed to frustrate him so. The other half of the day was spent aimlessly walking in circles around the apartment, looking for anything to do to distract you from your worries.

You found yourself glancing at your phone in hopes of a new message from him, of any sign he thought about you at all.

Fortunately, Soonyoung proved your fear wrong when he returned from work with a bright-eyed smile and a take-away bag of pastries from the café. “Hey! How are you feeling today?”

Just hearing his voice made you soft inside on this day. Without a second of hesitation, you ran over (the best you could with your limp) and pulled him into a hug. He was taken off-guard by your sudden affection, almost to the point of dropping the bag of pastries he’d brought.

When you didn’t utter a single word, his smile morphed into a pout and his hand reached up to rub your back. His voice softened. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. Finally, you found your voice. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“Mad at you?” He opened his mouth to argue but soon realised that he was, in fact, just a little bit upset with you. “Well, I’m not going to let you be miserable just because I’m a little upset with you. Speaking of which, I bought you some–”

“Just hold me now. Let it be,” you whispered and leaned further into his embrace. He couldn’t find it in himself to protest.

So he just held you, right there in the front hall, still fully dressed in his coat and boots.

“Soonyoung,” you then started, “about yesterday…”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“It’s not that. I just want you to know,” you leaned back to look at him, “you don’t have to worry about the guys who hurt me.”

His brows rose. “What do you mean? Of course I have to worry about them! They hurt you and you just want me to forget about that? We should report them to the authorities not–”

“I don’t think you understand,” you laughed a little, though there was little humour in the sound. “Soonyoung, we don’t have to worry about them anymore. They got what they wanted and, believe me, they fear me more than I fear them now. I walked out pretty unscathed compared to some of them.”

Soonyoung opened his mouth to inquire some more but remained silent. “I… don’t think I needed to know that. But,” he sighed out in relief, “I guess that means I don’t have to ask for a favour from a friend of mine after all.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What kind of friend?”

“... The head prosecutor of this part of the country.”

“You–” Your jaw dropped. “You know the head prosecutor?”

“I know a lot of people,” he admitted with a shy laugh, stepping back out of your embrace to sheepishly scratch the back of his head. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“What kind of people?”

“Powerful ones.” Your silence prompted him to add some examples. “The prime minister, some people in the state secretary… The president.”

It strangely made sense now that you thought of it. He did tend to dress a little too formal. He was impeccably polite. And yet he seemed to lack any understanding of the most trivial things.

“You come from old money, don’t you?” you eventually realised. “You’re one of those Kwons.”

“Those Kwons?” he wondered.

You smiled as the pieces fit further together, forming the perfect picture you had been to close to fully see. “One of the richest families in Korea. You’re an heir to a billion-dollar fortune, Soonyoung. I kept wondering why your name rang so familiar.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, I guess I haven’t done a very good job of hiding.”

“But why are you here then?” you asked, tilting your head. “You’re rich, you’re practically famous. Why this dump? Why me?”

“That– That is a story for another day,” he sighed and took off his coat, toed off his shoes, and walked into the apartment.

But just like he had been the day before, you decided to keep pushing. “Soonyoung.”

And unlike you the day before, he cracked far more easily. “I was sick and tired of the way I was treated. I was practically a play doll for the company – I was whatever they wanted me to be, whenever they needed me to be. I never got to grow to be what I wanted.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

He laughed bitterly and slumped onto the sofa, you following right after, your hand reflexively coming up to rest on his shoulder. “You have no idea. I was a Kwon before I was Soonyoung. I was the property of the company before I was my father’s son. I had all the money in the world but none of the freedom to use it. I hated every second of it. So…” He sighed.

“You ran away.”

“Thought it was my only option. But I don’t think I realised how much more difficult life is without all the money and the contacts.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered and let him lean into your side, his head coming to rest on your shoulder. With the softest kiss on his forehead, you promised, “We’ll figure it all out together.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, just taking in the situation and each other’s company. Now that neither of you had anything to hide anymore, a strange new sense of home filled the apartment.

The sofa was still just as creaky and hard as the day when you arrived, and the rooms were still hauntingly empty, but there was more than enough comfort for the two of you.

“So,” he started again, a little more cheerfully, “do you want macaroons? I bought some.”

You smiled. “I could go for something sweet, now that you mention it.”

“Sugar helps you heal faster,” he joked and poked your side, making you wince just a little, “and you need it more than I do.”

“Does that mean I get to eat extra macaroons?” you teased and he immediately gasped at the mention, wounded by your suggestion.

“After all I have done for you–”

“Just kidding, just kidding.”

Despite Soonyoung’s protests, you returned to work just one day later, even as you continued limping and wincing every time you moved.

Obviously, he kept on worrying and checking in on you at every chance. And there was nothing you could do about it.

It was both amusing and annoying to see him peek between the shelves every time he caught a break, as brief as it was. Each time, he’d offer a toothy smile and sometimes a candy he nicked from the break room.

“You know you have a job of your own, right?” you laughed when he returned to your side for the 20th time that day. “I bet there’s a queue forming at the register already.”

“Nah,” he waved away your concerns and leaned against the bookshelves to watch you, “rush hour’s done. We should be fine for half an hour at least. Besides, I’m more worried about you.”

“And you’ve chosen to spend that half hour bothering me just because of that? Any other reasons?”

“You’re pretty to look at.” No hesitation. Not even a waver in his voice. “I love spending time with you.”

You scoffed and hoped he wouldn’t notice how flustered he made you feel. “You don’t know a lot of people, do you?”

“No, but the people I do know are all wonderful. Like you. Oh, and did I tell you that I ordered a new sofa for us earlier?” He grinned proudly. “So you can rest better while you heal.”

“Can you two stop flirting?” Mina’s voice carried into the bookstore side of the building. “Soonyoung, you’re supposed to be helping me clean!”

His eyes widened at the mention. “Oh shoot.” He hesitated to return to his post, eyeing you in concern as you lightly leaned against the shelves after a movement that was too sudden. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Soonyoung.”

“Fine, I’ll go. But when we get home, you’re not moving even an inch without my permission,” he threatened with a playful smile before kissing your cheek and rushing back to the counter.

You spent the next half hour in a daze — it was the first time he had kissed you at all.

From then on, you often wondered if you even deserved the affections of this man. He seemed far too great and perfect for you. Too wonderful and kind for the likes of you who used to make people’s lives hell for the fun of it.

But sometimes you thought maybe – maybe he was exactly what you deserved and needed: a broken yet cheerful man to mend your equally broken and lonely self. Maybe you were meant to heal each other.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” you asked him through a tired laugh as he frantically flipped through the instructions’ booklet. “Because it sure doesn’t look like it.”

“It’s a sofa,” he grumbled, “how hard could it possibly be?”

“You keep saying that but then it has also taken you like an hour to assemble even a third of it.”

He hummed in response, brows furrowed, too deep in the instructions to really listen.

You scoffed at the sight. It had been unbearably adorable just thirty minutes ago, but now? It had been well over an hour and the heating was acting up again. You were getting cold. Very, very cold.

But unfortunately Soonyoung had explicitly forbidden you from moving a single finger unless you wanted to extend your rest – a rule you had taken for a joke at first. But now an entire month had passed and Soonyoung had kept his promise: when you weren’t at work, you were on bedrest at home until he deemed you healthy again.

Thus, now wiser than a month ago, you remained seated on the old sofa, arms wrapped around yourself for warmth, and sighed. “Soonyoung…”

“Listen,” he sighed and looked up at you finally, “I am trying. This thing is more complicated than it looks.”

You pouted – a habit you picked up after living with this man for over two months now. “But I’m cold… ”

His pout matched yours immediately. “What can I do about that?”

“You could hand me a blanket?” you offered with a hopeful smile.

Soonyoung chuckled at your tone, his earlier frustration at the sofa disappearing immediately. He got up and headed to the bedroom, soon emerging with a warm blanket and a garment in hand. He placed both in your lap. “Here, a blanket and you can have my hoodie, too.”

“Your hoodie?” you wondered, picking up the item and eyeing it suspiciously. “Weren’t you wearing this just now?”

He shrugged. “Nice and warm for you, sweetheart.”

You shut up at the nickname, afraid that if you voiced another thought your voice would betray you. But your face must have betrayed you regardless.

“Gosh, you’re so cute!” he cooed just seconds later, squishing your cheeks together a little before pressing a kiss to your forehead as he now often found himself doing. It was as if his need for physical affection had doubled after you got injured.

You whined and shook out of his hold, pulling the blanket over your head to hide. “Stop calling me cute. I’m not cute.”

“You’re absolutely so cute.”

“I’m not.”

“The absolute cutest.” He continued squeezing you through your warm, cosy fortress made up of a single blanket. Thankfully, he soon let up, with a laugh, and returned to his spot on the ground where the pieces of the sofa lied.

“Okay, I can do this,” you heard him whisper to himself in encouragement. You quietly cheered him on from underneath the blanket, peeking out just a little to watch his adorable pout and furrow of brows return.

“Fuck…” you mumbled under your breath, blood running cold in fear despite your heart beating faster in adoration, “I think I might be in love.”

You had dreaded this day. Feared it. Had nightmares about it. But it had come and it was even worse than you imagined: you had finally fallen in love.

But love? Love meant being tied down. It meant being vulnerable and loyal. It meant being there for him when he needed you. But you weren’t sure you could offer that to him.

It was a terrifying realisation. You weren’t used to being tied down or attached to anyone. You had made more enemies than friends in your lifetime. Lovers? Never.

Then there was the issue of reciprocation: just because you were in love didn’t mean he had to be as well. And this was something you couldn’t bear.

You decided that a lonely heart was better than a broken one and distanced yourself in hopes of it being a passing fancy.

It started small. Short answers to his questions. Avoiding his eyes at work. Rolling as far away from him as you could in bed (a fruitless effort, as somehow you still woke up in his arms).

When he didn’t seem to notice, you escalated. Avoided him at all possible places. Took your breaks when he was too busy to join you. You even began sleeping on the new sofa under the pretence that the rising outside warmth was making the bedroom and his embrace too hot to sleep in.

Had you not been so preoccupied with your own feelings, you would’ve noticed the way his eyes shone less brightly and his smiles didn’t quite reach as high as they used to. He had noticed your distancing efforts, and he was heartbroken.

Still, you didn’t dare risk it. You didn’t want to get your heart broken when you were already the most fragile and vulnerable you had been in years.

“Okay, I have had enough of this,” Mina declared one day, stomping over to your section of the store to drag you to lunch. She practically threw your jacket at you before leading you to a café across the street. “Come on.”

After sitting down, you began to fear the worst. “So–”

“Why are you playing with Soonyoung’s feelings?” she interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest while glaring daggers at you. You paled at her sharp tone. “Is this a game to you?”

“Game? I’m not following–”

She scoffed out a laugh. “Not following?! Have you even looked at him this past week?”

“Sure I have.”

“Really? And you didn’t notice anything strange?”

“Strange as in?”

Her stern look dropped into something more akin to genuine concern. “You– You actually didn’t notice?”

“I have never been so confused in my entire life,” you confessed despite the little bell at the back of your head ringing to say that you knew exactly what she was talking about.

She relaxed in her seat and stared at you, wide-eyed. “I’m worried about both of you now, then. Listen,” she leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table, “I know I used to tease you about flirting all of the time and what-not, but… I miss hearing the two of you goofing off at work. Now it’s just dead-silent all the time.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Did something happen between the two of you?”

You hesitated.

“Come on, you can tell me,” she encouraged sweetly. “Maybe all you need is someone to listen to you.”

“I… I think I might love him,” you eventually whispered, breaking under her relentless stare, “and I don’t know if I’m ready for it. Or if I even deserve it.”

“Oh, honey…”

“He’s so sweet and he’s funny and caring and gives me his hoodies when I’m cold and he learnt to cook so I wouldn’t have to. And me– I’m just a wreck. I don’t deserve to love him.”

“But he loves you,” she whispered so sincerely you almost believed her. You shook your head at the thought, laughing at it almost, until she took your hand and repeated, “He loves you. And I think you’re the only one who hasn’t realised yet.”

“You read too many romance novels,” you told her with a sigh. “How could he ever love me?”

“I assume he thinks the same way about you,” she told you with a sympathetic smile. “You know, he talks about you a lot. I swear he could write a whole novel about you. So, why can’t you just love him back?”

“He doesn’t love me. Even if I love him. He can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if he loves me, he’ll get hurt. He’ll find out that I’m more broken than I let on. He’ll get his heart broken and hate me for the rest of his life. I don’t want that to happen.”

“But,” she was close to tears, always a hopeless romantic at heart, “what if he’s your romance of a lifetime? What if he’s the one that’s meant to be with you?”

“What if we crash and burn?”

“But how do you know that you will if you won’t even give it a chance?”

You didn’t say anything else but her words echoed in your head for days to come.

Soonyoung was many things. Patient was not necessarily one of his qualities. In fact, he was rather short-tempered and he wasn’t afraid to admit it.

He let you be for a week – two even. He forced himself to be patient and calm and keep smiling even as you ignored him. He almost hit a breaking point when you picked up your blanket and pillow and left to sleep on the sofa, but still he told himself that you were going through a phase and you would come out of it a warmer person.

But then the third week began and you were colder than ever. He felt as if an ice wall had been built between the two of you. And frankly he was sick of it.

When the day came to a close, he gathered his courage and headed out the café door. As usual by now, you stayed behind at work a little longer under the guise of working overtime. And unlike usual, he stood there waiting for you outside the store.

About an hour passed and he was about to lose hope when you finally stepped out, clad in your hoodie. He jumped up from his spot on the sidewalk and ran to meet you. He didn’t bother to smile.

“Soonyoung,” you gasped in surprise and took a step back as if to hide. “What are you doing here? You should be back home. It’s late.”

“Strange,” he laughed humourlessly, “I was about to say the same about you.” He looked at you up and down once before sighing and shrugging off his jacket, despite your noises of protest. He placed it around your shoulders, adjusting it as he spoke, “Where’s your coat? It’s not even proper spring yet and you’re walking around like it’s summer.”

“I’m fine.”

He frowned and scoffed. “I’m not.”

“Why?”

“Because this is the first proper conversation we’ve had in three weeks,” he whispered, hand falling from your shoulder to your palm. “Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you? If you were so mad at me for making you rest, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve–”

“That’s why I didn’t say anything. Because if I told you that something was wrong, you would do anything to fix it. But you can’t fix this.”

“I can try.”

“I don’t want you to.”

He let go of your hand to run his fingers through his hair, tugging at it as he sighed, “Why not? Why won’t you let me help you?”

You felt your lip begin to wobble. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me, Soonyoung.”

He frowned at your words. “Why would I get hurt?”

Why did he have to be so damn stubborn?

“Because I love you, and if you loved me, nothing good would come out of it! I’m not good enough for you!”

You felt a stray tear fall. Perhaps it was too late to hide now. Your voice wavered as much as your confidence did. Because even when you shouted at him, even when you broke his heart, he only looked at you as if you had set the stars in the sky to light his way home on this dark night.

“You’re making me feel things I never thought I could and it’s scary. You changed everything: the sun is suddenly brighter because it reminds me of you, the people I used to deal with regularly are suddenly scarier because I fear they’ll come for you, and I don’t know if it’s good or bad, whether I’m happy or sad. I’m a wreck, and I’m not good for you.”

“You think I don’t feel the same way about you?” he breathed out after a pause, close to tears himself. “Do you have any idea how selfish I used to be? I ran away from my family just because I wanted to prove myself. I’m not even disinherited, I still have access to all that money if I want it – but, instead, I made you live in that shell of an apartment with me because I was too damn proud to ask my parents for help. I’m not any better than you.”

While you reached up to wipe his tears, you gave in to the temptation to run your fingers through his hair: it had grown since you moved together. Blonde and spiky and short when you met, his hair was black and smooth now, almost reaching past his eyes. He looked like a different person all-together – more mature and sure of himself than before. You wondered if you did too.

“You say I changed everything for you,” he spoke softly, leaning his forehead against yours, “but you changed everything for me too. Please don’t take it all away from me now. These past three weeks have been like hell for me. Please make it stop…”

You couldn’t even find any other words to say. Perhaps you really were perfect for each other as Mina had said. Two broken pieces that fit together.

“Can I…” He took a deep breath before whispering, “Can I kiss you? Even if it’s just this once.”

You nodded. His lips found yours barely a moment later, soft and plush, filling you with a warmth you suddenly craved. The kiss was too brief for you liking you found and when he went to regretfully pull away, you pulled him right back.

The doubts you had, faded into nothingness, but the warmth of his embrace remained as his arms wrapped around your body. It was then that you decided to follow your heart instead of your mind.

“I was being dumb, wasn’t I?” you breathed out when the two of you stepped away from one another, arms still lingering. “I’m sorry.”

“You may be dumb, but I’m no better,” he whispered with a light laugh. “So, does this mean you’ll give me– give us a chance?”

You pressed your lips to his again instead of an answer.

[bonus epilogue]

He whined and fell back into the mattress, letting it consume him whole. “Do we need to fix the other bedroom? We can just share this one.”

“Don’t you want your own space?” you wondered while picking your clothes for the day.

“Why would I?” He pouted. “Why would I need my own space when I could just be in yours?”

You groaned at that. Ever since you began dating, he’d been nothing short of affectionate: holding your hands at every chance, hugging, cuddling, kisses, pecks, head pats. And as much as you tried to hate it, it was hard to find it anything other than endearing.

“Okay, but if you don’t want your own bedroom–”

“Correct.”

“–then what should we do with our other bedroom?”

“... a room for our pets?”

“We don’t have any pets,” you told him with a laugh and sat down next to him to play with his hair (a gesture he greatly enjoyed). “All we have is that one houseplant Mina gave us.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, actually.” He sat up abruptly, eyes shining, a bright smile on his face. “We should get a dog.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Didn’t we have this conversation already?”

“Yes, but it was before we started smooching–”

“I hate that wording.”

“Romantically cuddling?”

“No.”

“Fine, you’re boring. It was before we started dating and I think we’ve grown a lot since then. We’re ready for a kid.”

It appeared your heart was made of soft cotton-candy rather than cold hard stone. You had eased up greatly in the past few months. And so, not even begrudgingly, you sighed and agreed, “We can get a dog.”

He lit up like the 4th of July. “Really?”

“Yes, but it has to be a dog we both like,” you compromised (or so you told yourself to not admit how easily you gave in to him).

“Then we have a reason to make the other room our pet room,” he declared and jumped to his feet. “Let’s get started.”

You laughed. “Now?”

“Yes, now. When else?”

“I don’t know. I’m too tired.” You emphasised your point with a theatrical yawn.

Soonyoung giggled at the sight of you slumping back in the bed and leaned down to press a single kiss to your lips. “Better?”

You pouted and shook your head.

Another kiss, followed by three more. You smiled now and sat up as he gently pulled you by the collar of your sweater.

“Great, then let’s eat some breakfast and get planning.” Leaving you standing in the middle of the bedroom, he walked out. Then he turned once again at the doorway and smiled brightly, as if an idea had struck him right there. “We should name our dog Tiger!”

“We’re not naming our dog Tiger.”

“What about our first-born child then?”

You raised a brow and followed after him. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re no fun.”

“And yet you love me.”

He sighed deeply. “I do love you.”

A/N: this fic took so long and i am so sorry. the next fic will hopefully be ready faster and it’ll be more fun to read <3

#seventeenweeklyarticle #seventeen x reader #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #seventeen angst #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #soonyoung scenarios #.avy writes #series: serenity street 17 💙

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iobnewsnetwork · 1 year ago

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Seoul Awoke to a Dire Alarm: ‘Prepare to Evacuate.’ Whoops.

SEOUL — The emergency siren began wailing at 6:32 a.m. Several minutes later, personal cellphones around Seoul were screeching with a government alert urging residents to “prepare to evacuate,” children and the old and weak first. For a half an hour on Wednesday morning, confusion and panic swept across this city of 10 million as news spread that North Korea had fired a rocket. Then, the next wave of messages hit: The South’s home ministry issued a notice saying the earlier alert was a “false alarm.” Anxiety soon turned into anger and exasperation. “They messed up big time,” said Lee Jae, an office worker in Seoul who woke up to the sirens. South Koreans, who have grown inured to North Korea’s frequent provocations, were met with a disturbing taste of how their country might respond to a major military attack on Wednesday when their government caused confusion with its public alert system at a time of heightened tension in the region. The confusion began after North Korea launched a rocket from the northwestern tip of the Korean Peninsula at 6:27 a.m. For days, the North had told the world that it was preparing to launch a rocket that would carry a homegrown military spy satellite into orbit, despite the action violating multiple United Nations Security Council resolutions. Data the North had released on the rocket’s preprogrammed trajectory showed that it would fly south, over the sea between the Korean Peninsula and China, and over the waters east of the Philippines. It is rare for a North Korean projectile to fly to the south. In 2016, when a North Korean rocket carrying a satellite flew on a southbound trajectory, South Korea issued an alert on Baekryeongdo, an island near the northwestern border with the North. Two minutes after the liftoff on Wednesday, South Korea issued a similar alert on Baekryeongdo, but officials were investigating why the same alert was also issued to Seoul, even though the rocket flew hundreds of kilometers west of the city. After issuing the alert on Baekryeongdo, the home ministry left it to regional governments to decide whether to follow suit, according the Seoul city government. Officials in Seoul said they decided to issue an alert in the city as a precaution, even if they had to retract it. The mayor of Seoul later issued a public apology. For Chung Sung-hee, 62, the confusing response was infuriating. Ms. Chung said she was preparing breakfast at her home in central Seoul when she heard the phone alert, followed by a loudspeaker broadcast. When she opened the window and trained her ears, all she could make out was that it was “a real situation,” not a drill. “They should’ve said what was happening, and where to go,” Ms. Chung said. “Who would evacuate with a message like that?” When she got the second alert saying it was a false alarm, Ms. Chung said she couldn’t help but curse the authorities. “I blurted out, ‘These crazies — isn’t there one thing they can do right?’” she said. “The government should tell you, ‘this is the situation.’ If they out of nowhere just say ‘evacuate,’ what’s anyone to do?” South Koreans harbor deep skepticism over their government’s ability to handle major disasters. The government of President Yoon Suk Yeol was widely accused of failing to prevent or respond quickly enough to the deadly crowd crush in Seoul that killed nearly 160 people in October. Critics say that the response on Wednesday was symptomatic of an administration that has championed a tough stance against North Korea yet failed to assure the public of its safety amid the North’s growing nuclear threat. “It’s right for the Yoon government to have a sense of crisis with North Korea,” said Ahn Byong-jin, a political scientist at Kyung Hee University in Seoul. “But there has been little training for the general public on how to live with it. The commotion we had this morning encapsulates how the government is failing to understand and respond to this new normal with North Korea.” Min Yun-geun, a college student in Seoul, feared that false alarms, if repeated, might desensitize people to actual emergencies. “I’m realizing how we are actually not so prepared for war,” he said. Mr. Yoon’s office condemned the North’s rocket launch as a “grave provocation,” calling it a long-range missile test disguised as a satellite launch. North Korea confirmed that the launch had failed and that the projectile had tumbled into the sea west of the Korean Peninsula after its second-stage vehicle malfunctioned. The country vowed to schedule another launch as soon as possible. South Korea was collecting debris to glean clues about the North’s rocket technology. By launching a rocket toward the south and attempting to place a military spy satellite into orbit, the North was escalating its nuclear threat, said Lee Byong-chul, a researcher on nuclear policy at the Institute for Far Eastern Studies at Kyungnam University in Seoul. “North Korea has already shown that its missiles are powerful enough to fly the distances it wanted, but what it lacks is an ability to guide them to targets with precision,” Mr. Lee said. “Military spy satellites can help provide the North with that capability.” Though some were frustrated by the South Korean government’s response to the launch, others said they would rather have officials err on the side of caution in such situations. “It’s better that they did it and get chewed out than not doing anything and getting chewed out,” said Lee Jae-hee, 45. After he saw the alert, Mr. Lee said he saw a news report that it was about the space launch the North had warned it would conduct and fell back asleep. “If you’re hearing buildings blow up and things roaring, it’s probably too late to go anywhere anyway,” he said with a shrug. South Korea regularly conducted civil defense drills during the Cold War, with sirens wailing and megaphones urging people to take shelter in subway stations, underground parking lots and basements of large buildings. Streets were vacated of traffic. The country now has thousands of underground shelters for emergencies. But those drills have become a distant memory for many across the country, particularly after Seoul began to engage in more diplomacy with North Korea under Mr. Yoon’s predecessor, Moon Jae-in. South Korea last conducted an air-raid drill in 2017. As tensions in the region rise, Mr. Yoon’s government has been slow to reintroduce civil defense drills. On May 16, South Korea conducted its first nationwide civil defense exercise in six years, but it was limited to public servants and schoolchildren. Jeung Yeon-cheon, 36, who lives on the 18th floor of an apartment building in Seoul, said he participated in the May training, though he thought that any risk of a North Korean attack felt remote. He quickly dismissed the alarm on Wednesday as a blip. “It didn’t feel that serious,” he said. Read the full article

#National #News&Updates

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windsfavored · 2 days ago

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though the wanderer tries to keep a relatively neutral exterior, the prospect of bitter chocolate and coffee beans sees him perking up a touch despite his best efforts. ( much like a cat, learning to recognize the word for a favored treat. ) ❝ if you were ACTUALLY going to compensate me for my assistance all along, you should have said so. ❞ the wanderer tells him, knowing full well it goes against aether's nature to do so — that would be TOO EASY.

he takes a step back when the traveler decides to follow his instructions in the most DRAMATIC way possible. ( and it's a good thing he does; he barely avoids being swatted by that golden mane. ) ren decides to respond with equivalent maturity, sticking out his tongue instead of applauding the display. ❝ you're a mess. ❞ he doesn't hesitate to tell him — with the same flat tone one might use when describing something so obvious, even making the observation at all feels like a condescending chore. grass is green, water is wet, the sun is bright. fortunately, the wanderer is nothing if not PREPARED — pressing a hand to his chest and withdrawing a brush of his own. something simple. something that won't be missed on the off chance it also falls victim to the traveler's tangled mess of hair. if that void within him has a limit to its carrying capacity, he certainly hasn't found it yet — perhaps he should make it a point to start packing spares.

as aether sinks down, ren quickly begins to get to work. before he can even consider RE-BRAIDING his hair, he needs to brush it into some semblance of order. he takes a surprising degree of care to ensure the process is as painless as possible. ❝ it's been perfectly ... boring. ❞ the wanderer tells him. it's difficult to tell whether he means it as a compliment or complaint. ❝ there's still a few handful of fatui hanging around that don't seem to know when they aren't WELCOME ... so i've been taking the liberty of sending them home. ❞ by force. he supposes if nothing else, it's been a decent source of stress relief. his studies aren't too much of an ISSUE — although ren can only stand staying idle for so long before he craves stimulation. ❝ a number of my peers at the akademiya still won't stop bothering me ... and to make matters worse, they've even started to memorize my usual hiding places. ❞ although, the wanderer supposes if that's the most PRESSING issue he has to contend with at the moment, he's actually quite fortunate. ( describing his own circumstances in such terms is a pretty strange change of pace. )

❝ enough about that. ❞ enough about that. ❝ tell me more about natlan. information is pretty hard to come by. ❞ understandably; its people aren't exactly prone to LEAVING. ❝ considering you're involved ... i can only imagine the moment you set foot within its borders, everything fell to pieces. ❞ that seems to be something of a theme.

IT IS A PRETTY TERRIBLE DEAL WHEN HE LEAVES HALF OF THE INFORMATION OUT. Really, he only meant to see if Ren can spare the time to help him at least untangle the mess of golden locks or if he has more important things to attend to. Besides, it's been a while since he's last been in Sumeru and he kind of misses the slower parts of his journey where everything isn't hectic and a battle against time. If things keep escalating like this, he dreads what he will be met with when he gets to Snezhnaya. Maybe it won't be that bad, the Tsaritsa rules the icy lands. Maybe it'll be worst leg of his journey. Maybe he shouldn't be thinking about it because he's getting terribly distracted. He's on a vacation of sorts.

That being said, this sort of banter brings an amused snort out of him. Hand on chest, Aether doesn't miss a beat when it comes to being dramatic in return. ❝ You mean to say that getting to play with my hair and the bag of dark chocolate-covered espresso beans I have in my bag is 'nothing'? You wound me, Ren, truly. ❞ is this considered bribing now? Not that it matters when the deal has already been accepted since before he even finished talking, but it's a curious thought to entertain. Can Ren even be bribed? He certainly has a vested interest in anything that has to do with weapons as well as anything bitter, but especially tea.

Because the Traveller wouldn't be himself without being a gremlin, instead of just turning around as instructed, he does a pirouette, ending it with a smile and a short bow. In hindsight, not his brightest idea when he has to drag all of his unbraided hair around with him. It's a miracle he managed to do all of that without tripping over his own feet or without hitting the wanderer in the face with his hair. But he's done it successfully! Probably much to the other's annoyance who just told him to turn around and sit still.

❝ Weeeeeeeeeeeell, I have a very funny story about those items. ❞ pause for dramatic effect ❝ They broke. The brush's teeth snapped when I tried to use it before coming over. The hair tie was already practically falling apart so I'm honestly quite surprised it lasted as long as it did. ❞ he'd not be surprised if those broken teeth were still stuck in his hair.

A hum rumbles in the back of his throat as he settles down properly; ❝ All my hair-related woes aside, how have things been here? It looks like things have more or less fallen into place. It's quite honestly a nice change from my trip to Natlan. ❞ he's still trying to wrap his head around what happened while he was there. Alright, he can get behind the fact that they are used to being brought back by the oath, but the fact that even children are participating in tournaments to get picked to fight the Abyss itself? How are any of them okay with that?

#drolliic #( no worries!! )#( SDKVS fortunately ren is very nosy about what's going on )

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writingquestionsanswered · 3 years ago

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Hi honey! I trust your blog more that anyone's and I wanted to ask you if you've ever did a Writer's notebook for a specific WIP. If so, how do you organise it?

My sister bought me a pretty notebook and I'm so messy and I don't want all my ideas to be throw a mess.

Setting Up a Notebook for Your WIP

Whether you're using a notebook, binder, journal, or planner to organize your WIP, there are a lot of ways you can set it up, and it all depends on what would work best for you and your story.

Gather Your Supplies

There are loads of products available to help you set up your notebook, but you can just use things you have around the house, too. I'm going to list a range of options, but here are some things you might consider:

Sticky Tabs - These come in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors and are self-adhesive. You can also get printable tabs for use in your printer. Tabs can be purchased in most office supply sections/stores as well as on Amazon and Etsy. You can also make your own using paper, cardstock, sticky notes, or washi tape.

Adhesive - I would consider this to be only marginally less important than sticky tabs when setting up a notebook. Whether you choose a glue stick, glue dots, adhesive runner, tape, double-sided tape, or washi tape, you definitely want something that will allow you to stick things on the pages.

Decorative Paper/Cardstock - If you want sturdier divider pages, you might look at purchasing decorative paper/cardstock online or at a craft store. This can be affixed to each divider page using adhesive. The sticky tab can go on top or between the two sheets.

Colored Gel Pens and Highlighters - Colored pens and highlighters can not only be handy for color coding and highlighting important notes, but they can really spruce up the interior of your notebook.

Stickers & Decorative Elements - If decorating the inside of your notebook (or even just the divider sections) appeals to you, it's worth looking at a craft store or online at different sticker and washi tape options, as well as other cute decorative elements that are available. If you have a Michaels or other similar craft store, there are whole sticker sections, but you might also head to the planner section where you can get huge books of themed stickers, many of which have functional uses like checklists, bordered boxes, and inspiring quotes. You can also look on Etsy and Amazon if you'd rather purchase online.

Planner Clips and Paper Clips - If you think you might require the use of paper clips, they often sell really cute ones in office supply sections/stores, as well as in the planner section of craft stores, and also online. I have gold paperclips in arrow shapes, for example, and they also make cute magnetic clips. On Etsy, you can purchase super cute planner clips made from felt and paper clips, and there are so many different kinds, you can usually find some that will go right along with your story.

Divide Up Your Sections

The very first thing you'll probably want to do is figure out how to section out your notebook. There's no right or wrong way to do it, so just think about the different things you'll want to put in your notebook and how you'd want to classify them. You may want to also do a rough calculation of how many sections you can have based on the number of pages and how many you'd probably want in each section. Section ideas:

Characters (or Main Characters, Secondary Characters)

Setting/World Building

Outline/Plot

Scene List

Timeline

Maps/Layouts

Glossary

Ideas

Words

Brain Dump

Tools (word count tracker, time tracker, helpful sites, etc.)

Notes

Inspiration (pictures, quotes, playlist, names, writing exercises)

Revision Notes

Publishing Notes

Once you have your sections decided, mark them out with sticky notes or bookmarks. Now write the sections on your tabs. Then you can reinforce your divider pages if you're going to, and then put on your tabs. Make sure the ink is dry on the tabs before touching them. Some pens work better than others. You might need to sacrifice one to try different inks. (Also, you can put the tab on before you put on the decorative/reinforcement paper, so that it's sandwiched in between. Whatever you want to do is fine!)

Fill Out Your Notebook

Now it's time to fill up your pages to the extent that you can. If you got stickers or other decorative elements, you'll probably want to start there. Otherwise, start writing stuff into the different sections. If you want to print stuff out and stick it to the pages, that's fine, too. You might also print out some aesthetics/mood boards or inspiring pictures and stick those in there somewhere. Some of your pages/sections will probably get filled in along the way.

You can also use this method if you're setting up a WIP binder, journal, or planner. :)

For help with plotting, planning, or filling out any particular section, check out the relevant topic in my Master List of Top Posts.

Have fun setting up your WIP notebook and thanks for your nice note! ♥

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safetycar-restart · 2 years ago

Note

Okay I wish to introduce some soft shibari if you don’t mind because a sub relaxing while being prettily tied up next to you is the softest thing I can imagine right now.

I am thinking of Charles and Pierre for this. After a nice and satisfying scene where everything went smoothly and both of them satisfied regarding their different needs, you clean them up and you guys move to couch to watch a silly animation or an old sitcom to chase some sleep.

However, Pierre’s energy is somehow not drained by the scene you three just had. He is moving all the time, jittery, unable to understand why he is feeling uncomfortable, agitated and therefore overwhelmed. You observe that his state is affecting Charles badly as well and you are close to losing control of your two subs. Therefore, you decide to tie Pierre up to stabilise him and calm his nerves. You know that he is going to relax against ropes once he understands he cannot fight. To him, being tied up is like a very firm hug that grounds him.

You take your time tying his arm to his torso and his legs together while Charles watches you curiously but silently. You slap his hands playfully when he tries to touch the ropes on Pierre’s body and he retreats giggling. You make sure that blood circulation is not cut and Pierre can stay like that comfortably for a couple hours.

After you are done, you place your boys, one on each side on the couch and start the movie. As you expect, Pierre fights a little against restraints first but when he understands it is hopeless, he finally relaxes. After that point, his mind is blissfully silent.

You watch a silly comedy and your boys finally get all giddy and bubbly. Charles is cuddling against you. Pierre cannot cuddle you due to restrainst so you cuddle him firmly for him to not feel abandoned or ignored.

After the movie is over, you slowly untie him for bed and make Charles tidy the ropes up for the next time. He asks if he can be tied up like that too if he is a good boy for the whole week. He already knows the answer.

Not needing to be herded to bathroom to brush his teeth this time, you can swear that Pierre was looking at the faint rope marks on his body in the mirror and giggling to himself in the bathroom before sleep.

Again, just a thought.

~🐍

Ok listen I fucking ADORE this oh my god. This ask has been in my askbox for a while and I’ve just been... staring at it. Thinking about it. Letting it consume every moment of my live I am OBSESSED.

Firstly, shibari of any and all forms is absolutely incredible I love it so much. And shibari as a comfort and security thing?? Even better.

I could definitely see a situation where Charles is all calm and satiated and Pierre has a lot of nervous energy. I think in general, Pierre requires a lot more to calm down?

And sometimes it’s a very hard thing to balance, because Pierre needs more but too much can overwhelm Charles so you can easily have situations whether either charles is bordering on subdrop because he’s too overwhelmed or Pierre is jittery and anxious because he hasn’t been worked hard enough.

For Pierre, Shibari is such a good way to go here.

Charles is so intrigued about the whole process. He just sits on the couch and watches as you tie Pierre on the floor. I think Charles probably really wants to be involved in some way? But he’s scared he might mess something up.

Maybe you call him and have him hold Pierre’s hand? And he takes that job VERY seriously.

Pierre begins to relax the moment he feels the rope against his skin, because he knows that soon he’ll get that feeling of restraint he needs to calm down fully.

I think the cuddles afterwards would start with Charles cuddled up against your side while you have an arm around Pierre, but it would soon shift to Pierre in the centre because Charles wants him to receive more cuddles because Pierre can’t cling to you.

Charles after scenes is always very sensitive of course, but especially when Pierre is there? And even more so when you’ve had to do something to help Pierre.

And that sensitivity manifests itself in needing to make sure Pierre is receiving the same aftercare. Like.... Charles needs to be held! So surely Pierre needs to be held too? But Pierre cling to you and nuzzle under your chin like he can. So Charles must help!!

Charles lays with his head on Pierre’s lap, hugging Pierre’s torso and you hold Pierre against your chest.

And wow Pierre is so happy. Both from the ropes and the way the weight of you and Charles grounds him.

And yes, yes of course charles can get the same treatment if he wants it.

#sub!charles #sub!pierre #cl #pg #poly!dom/sub/sub #poly!charles/pierre #nsfw.#gn!reader #🐍

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years ago

Text

Take Me Away

Relationship: Wanda Maximoff x Reader Warnings: slight angst, eventual fluff Summary: Royalty!AU - You and your lady-in-waiting Wanda have been in a secret, forbidden relationship but everything gets tested when your father, the King, announces you are to be wed to a prince from a neighboring country. A/N: i’ve been loving royalty!au stuff lately and wanted to take my own stab at it. it’s not the most complicated, spectacular piece but i enjoyed writing it!

Masterlist

Wanda always arrived to your chambers right at the crack of dawn. Ever the punctual one, your lady-in-waiting never wasted a second once that bright light of a new day came through the windows. Sometimes she was even tasked with waking you up, ranting and raving about how your gown was going to take forever to lace up or that your hair wasn’t going to be dry enough to meet your family for breakfast.

Her frantic attitude always made you laugh. You thought her worrying heart was so silly and to show for it, you’d sometimes make it a point to shut her up with a kiss. One thing would lead to another until you two were lost among the silk sheets.

That all, though, had come to a stop today. Wanda was late this morning and you sadly knew why. Her heart must’ve been breaking, taking all her energy to pick up the pieces one by one this morning. You didn’t blame her, really, you felt the same break within you.

It had all fallen out last night. Your father, the usually benevolent King, had held a feast for your court and the royal family of a neighboring country. This wasn’t unusual for him as he very much loved to entertain. Everything had been going smooth. You were lost in the dancing and laughing with the patron, eagerly showing off the brand new dress your tailor had delivered that morning. You even got to sneak some cheeky glances at Wanda who stood off with the other servants, ready when needed.

Everything came to a screeching halt the second dinner had concluded. In between the refills of wine and arrival of dessert, your father had a surprise announcement to. It was as if a million bombs were going off. He revealed you were set to be married to the bordering country’s Prince. No one had told you, not even a hint from your mother, just this public declaration. You looked towards the king and his son — your soon-to-be-husband — and they were just beaming with joy. All plans and politics were falling into place for them while your world was crumbling.

You had excused yourself to the bathroom where you vomited profusely. Wanda, though, didn’t arrive to help. In fact, she didn’t arrive to your room for the rest of the night, sending one of the temporary servants instead.

You fell asleep feeling the loneliest you had felt in a long time. And those feelings certainly weren’t subsiding as you sat at your vanity the next morning, still waiting for Wanda.

You had been sitting alone for so long you thought she had abandoned her duties — or maybe she had just straight up retired last night and you were waiting on nothing — but then there was the unmistakable sound of your heavy door creaking open followed the gentle clicking of it closing. You peered into your looking glass, shifting it so slightly to show you the presence behind you.

"Wanda," you sighed, her naming falling from your lips as if it was the sweetest honey.

"Your Highness." While unsurprising, her cold and stoic response cut you. Your body tensed. Last time she had called you that was upon your very first meeting. Before she was the lover you kept in the shadows. Before there was ever a chance of losing her. The royal title felt like a death sentence now.

After a deep breath, you slowly placed the looking glass back on the table. You felt Wanda approach you from behind with caution. You didn’t know whether to turn around or ask her to begin her morning duties. If you were to be really honest with yourself, you just wanted to grab her and hold one another.

But Wanda seemed to have decided for the both of you. Hesitantly, she reached for the brush on the vanity and gently began on your hair. You wanted to cry.

"Wanda, please," you mumbled. "Talk to me."

"Talk to you?" She repeated, her fingers now running through your hair giving slight pulls as she fixed the curls. The actions reminded you of when she would… "And what would you like me to say?"

"Something, anything!" You were nearly crying, your words coming out in weak begs. "I didn’t know anything about it, you have to trust me on that. I—I don’t want… I could never—,"

"Never, what?" Wanda cut you off, the brushing motions in your hair suddenly halted. "You couldn’t possibly think we could ever be together fully. I’ll admit, I indulged in this fantasies but I’ve stopped. We weren’t meant to be and you sure weren’t meant to be a single princess forever." She cleared her throat. "This was bound to happen, I fear."

"No, no," you fought back, shaking your head insistently. Wanda placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you down, but you only jumped at the touch, feeling that burning connection between you two. You couldn’t believe how much hold she had over you. How much you had over one another.

"Your Highness, I’m afraid—,"

"We can run away." The words slipped out of you so fast you never had a chance to bite your tongue. It felt like the world stopped, like you had created your own bomb to set off. Wanda’s grip on your shoulder got tighter. You straightened your posture, meaning business now despite the tears still flowing. You placed your hand atop of hers and continued, "I really think we could do it, dear. I can access the family funds, we could pack a few things, then be off in the night. Wouldn’t that just be nice? We could go wherever, start whatever life we want. You’re not wrong to say this was bound to happen but that doesn’t mean we can’t escape it."

"My Lady… There must be some consideration for the prince, the kingdoms, your subjects—,"

"They’re better to have no ruler than one who lives in constant agony."

The declaration was bold but it was the farthest from a lie. You decided to finally turn and face Wanda, your hand now holding hers with the greatest, most loving strength. The first thing you noticed were her eyes. They were so red and heavy, no doubt from hours of crying. Her hair was a mess as well, complimented by the worn down servants gown she wore. She hadn’t put any effort in today, probably dragging herself about as you predicted.

Slowly, you pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. Wanda let out a breathy gasp. When you met her eyes again, it appeared the deal had been sealed. But you needed her to say it.

"We can really do this, can’t we?" She asked shyly.

You nodded, a little grin playing at your lips. "I think we could go anywhere," you confirmed. "Maybe we can start a farm, raise some chickens or cows. Or — Oh! We could start a nice garden. I loved the one here but father wouldn’t let me learn how to care for it."

Wanda sighed as she watched you get lost in a new fantasy, one way beyond just being together but having a life. "Speaking of your father, he will send people after us, won’t he? The palace guards will die trying to find us if they have to."

You simply shrugged. Sure, she wasn’t wrong, but this was a big place and who knew what bigger places were out there. "Let them," you finally said. "We’ll be so far long gone before they realize it they won’t know what hit them."

Silence fell between you two.

"You’re going to give up all this for a chance for us to be together?" Wanda finally asked, motioning towards the gloriousness of the castle chamber. She was a very thorough one, extremely detailed-oriented, which made her the best partner-in-crime you had decided before ever engaging romantically. Eventually, it was one of the things that made you fall head over heals. She noticed everything, always the sweet and cool observer. You didn’t blame her for using the skill now.

"Wanda, dear," you sighed as your hand crept its way to her neck. "I’d give it all up a million times over to be with you."

Your sweet lover looked like she was now going to cry so you took the leap to lean up, catching her lips with yours. After a stunned moment, she returned the kiss, your lips moving in a familiar sync. It was electrifying knowing you hadn’t lost her. Knowing she was most likely going to be it for you, forever. Completely devoted to one another, comfortably and freely.

Wanda’s hand begin caressing your cheek when she pulled away slightly. Your foreheads were touching now but it still wasn’t close enough for you.

"Let’s do it," she whispered. "Take me away."

Words seemed so hard, something only the presence of Wanda could do to you. Unable to figure what was right to say now, of all times, you nodded and wrapped one arm around her waist. You pulled her into you, hugging her with all your might. She didn’t hesitate to return the embrace, soaking each other in.

"Of course, dear," you eventually said. Such small words they held the mysterious beginning and marked the glorious end.

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Dream SMP Recap (May 15/2021) - Gated Communities

Foolish builds an obsidian wall around the wall of L’Sandburg to impose a restriction on their territory and adds a toll of 50 diamonds to enter L’Sandburg.

Tommy comes up with a new plan to create a gated community out of the Holy Land and walls it off as well, instating a 1 diamond fee to enter the Holy Land and a 30 diamond fee to join the religion.

Meanwhile, Tubbo and Ranboo celebrate Tubbo’s three-year streaming anniversary!

---

VOD LINKS:

Foolish

Tommyinnit

Tubbo

Ranboo

Captain Puffy

---

- Foolish notices the signs that Tubbo left claiming ownership and sees Phil’s “solution,” but says that getting around the wall is not the problem, but the fact that L’Sandburg is trying to make him pay in the first place

- Foolish makes plans for war. All he would need is to gather some men, blow it up, and then they win -- but there’s a lot more of Foolish’s that they could blow up, and he doesn’t want to mess up his path

- He wonders what would happen if Tubbo actually picks a side and wants ownership, what Ranboo would do in that situation

- He considers setting some sort of redstone trap. Then he comes up with the idea to put an obsidian wall around their wall to stop their wall with his wall

- Foolish builds an obsidian wall a few blocks high encircling L’Sandburg. The best case scenario is if L’Sandburg just surrenders. Then no one would have to die

- He puts a sign and chest saying the toll to enter L’Sandburg is 50 diamonds

- Tommy comes online and Foolish tells him about L’Sandburg in chat

- As the only remaining founder of Church Prime and its religion (as Quackity is off in Las Nevadas and Dream is in prison), Tommy says he has the claim to the Holy Land

- Tommy doesn’t know when Wilbur will next be back, but in the meantime he wants to acquire land and power, so he wants to make the Holy Land his own and do “for-profit religion”

- He calls in Ranboo and Tubbo. Tubbo points out that his house is on the Holy Land, and Tommy says he’s been living on Tommy’s property, and that while the religion was founded by Tommy, Dream, Quackity and Tubbo, the land was built by Tommy and therefore it is his

- Tubbo is welcome to keep living there, but things are going to change around the place

- He tells Ranboo that his plan is going to keep expanding, and he offers him land at the center of the Dream SMP

- He tells Tubbo and Ranboo that he wants to make this a gated community

- Tommy starts expanding the borders of the Holy Land with smooth stone and building them up vertically into walls

- He marks down the meeting room to be renovated into a house and tears down the Oogway poster in the church

- Tubbo puts Tommy in a bloody hole

- Tommy puts the UwU Master Oogway poster on the wall in the basement and makes Prime suits that are multi-colored. He creates different “tiers” of the religion

- Then he grabs an Ender Chest from one of the trident outposts and puts it at the entrance along with a barrel and sign saying the entrance fee to the Holy Land is one diamond

- Tommy calls Eret for help. As the king of the Dream SMP, Tommy wants him to endorse the Holy Land. Eret says of course he would, as it’s always been a part of their history.

Tommy: “So you agree with all the rules of the Holy Land and shit, you know?”

Eret: “Uhh, as far as I know the rules are just no one’s allowed to be killed in the lands?”

Tommy: “Yeah, and all the rules that are made.”

Eret: “Are there other rules?”

Tommy: “Like, starting to be, but it’s just developing better -- so you agree, you know?”

Eret: “Well, I mean, we’ll see what -- the --”

Tommy: “’Yeah?’ Alright!” [Promptly leaves the call]

- The cost is 30 diamonds to enter the religion

- Tommy shows Tubbo and Ranboo the tiers and offers them to become Intro Subbers

- Ranboo asks what happens if he doesn’t pay. Tommy says he wouldn’t be allowed onto the Holy Land anymore. Ranboo agrees to pay for him and Tubbo to become Intro Subbers, and Tommy initiates them

- During the initiation process, Tommy plays an ocarina into the funny mic and Tubbo disappears during the screeching sounds

- Next, Tommy lays down some housing plots for the Holy Land’s gated community to get more people

- Tommy tells Tubbo that he is problematic

- There is still no fighting allowed in the Holy Land. No armor either

- Afterwards, Ranboo leads Tubbo around with a trail of diamonds

- Tubbo and Ranboo take Tommy over to L’Sandburg. Tommy is amazed by Foolish’s summer home and asks if he can claim it. Tommy now owns Foolish’s summer home

- Tubbo suggests they get Foolish in the call, as he is the person they must kill for ownership. Foolish joins and points out L’Sandburg to them, but Tubbo says this isn’t Foolish’s land, as the Pope claimed it and Tommy is the Pope, and Tubbo owns L’Sandburg

- Foolish recaps the L’Sandburg conflict. Tubbo explains that he doesn’t want Foolish to pay a toll, he simply wants Foolish to feel inferior. Ranboo can be Vice President of L’Sandburg, and Tommy can be Secretary

- Foolish comes over to L’Sandburg and Tubbo tells him they might have to have a war if he doesn’t tear down the obsidian wall. This area is the Tubbo SMP

- Tubbo then starts attacking Foolish and they continue to try and get him to tear down the obsidian

- They start negotiating. Tubbo threatens to declare independence and tries to pay Foolish with Nintendo gift cards. Foolish takes the gift card in return for the walls and they send him on his way

- Since they’re hungry, they go to one of the restaurants of the server to eat. When they try to go to Jack Manifold’s, though, it’s been destroyed. Instead, they head back to Tommy’s house and have a picnic

- Meanwhile, Foolish decides not to tear down the wall after all

- Ranboo brings over the food to the picnic blanket and they eat together before turning to the nostalgia clips for Tubbo’s 3-year anniversary

- Captain Puffy reacts to animatics before logging into the server and seeing the new walls around the Holy Land.

- Puffy meets with Bad in the L’Sandburg tower. Bad says that he has a problem, and as a fellow MCC team member, it is Puffy’s problem as well: he shows her the new walls that have sprouted up around his wall. Puffy starts twerking and Bad leaves

- When Bad comes back, he reads the new books in the chest and sees Tommy and Tubbo’s messages and tells Puffy that they can’t stand for this. Puffy doesn’t want to get L’Puffburg roped into it

- Bad sees the obsidian wall as additional reinforcement for their tollgate. He’s disappointed that no one’s respected the toll, but Puffy points out that’s normal for the server

- Bad’s ultimate long-term goal is to get people used to the toll and Bad gets more and more wealthy. Then, when L’Sandburg’s accumulated wealth, Foolish would come and buy them out once stocks go up

- Bad starts decorating the obsidian wall. Puffy asks where Antfrost’s gone and says this sounds like the Eggpire all over again, but Bad insists that it’s completely different!

- Puffy asks, haven’t Bad and Antfrost done enough to Foolish already? Bad calls him “bamboozled,” to which Puffy replies that he was executed in front of friends and loved ones

- They argue over whether they can actually be sure who killed who, then Antfrost gets brought up

Puffy: “See, the difference was mine was actually justified, whereas yours was -- just ruthless!”

Bad: “What?! Yours was cold-blooded murder!”

Puffy: “Well, I would do it again, and then slower next time actually.”

Bad: “Oh my goodness.”

Puffy: “Maybe next time with like a shovel or a spoon.”

Bad: “No! Don’t say that! Don’t let Ant hear you, he would be very distraught to hear that...”

Puffy: “Whisker by whisker.”

- Bad says they have a lot more in common than different. They’re both friends with Foolish, for one!

- Puffy and Bad argue about Bad scamming Foolish and taking his land. Bad claims that this is his land, and he has squatter’s rights, and if not, he’s taking it by conquest. Puffy accuses him of colonizing

- Bad decides to disband L’Sandburg the government and instead have only the L’Sandburg Toll Company. He suggests Puffy build her own venture capital tollbooth company nearby

- He changes his mind and wants to keep it simple, keeping it not as L’Sandburg the toll company but simply L’Sandburg.

- Bad wonders if a government can be a government with only one person, and if he can get Technoblade on his side

- Bad admits that declaring war and building a wall wasn’t a good action, but he built a whole tollbooth for Foolish! He asks Puffy for help building a “FOR SALE” sign

- Puffy goes over to her graveyard and finds the sign Connor left saying that Puffy stole his land, and colonizers are not welcome

- Bad scolds her, and Puffy tries to justify it by saying that Connor’s building had been there for ages. She doesn’t plan on giving Connor’s land back

- They return to L’Sandburg and put up the sign

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

[Two more days remain for the L’Sandburg ultimatum.]

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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kinkykinard · 4 years ago

Text

The Road Will Lead You Home Again

Fandom: 9-1-1. Pairing: Buddie. Word Count: 2201. Genre: fluff. Rating: teen+. Summary: Eddie goes over to Buck’s to pick up Christopher, or how 4x08 should have ended. Warning(s): alcohol mention. Note: Beta’d by @fireladybuckley. AO3 link here.

Buck jumped as his apartment door was thrown open and Eddie rushed in, his expression bordering on unhinged. Buck hadn’t been expecting him for at least another five minutes given the distance between Eddie’s house and his apartment, but it was unsurprising that Eddie had taken speed limits and stop signs as suggestions more than anything considering the fear and restless energy rolling off him in waves.

“Christopher?” Eddie barked, glancing around frantically.

Buck stepped closer, putting a hand on Eddie’s chest to stop him.

“In the bathroom,” Buck explained. “He’s fine.”

He could feel Eddie’s chest heaving under the strain of his emotions and a frantic rush up three flights of stairs. Buck watched Eddie’s face, waited. It took a few moments for his words to sink in, but Eddie finally relaxed a fraction, dropping his shoulders and meeting Buck’s eyes.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Eddie said with a shake of his head, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “We’re going to have a long, hard talk about boundaries when we get home.”

Buck shook his head, dropping his hand as Eddie calmed.

“Not until you’ve slept on it,” Buck said softly. “Christopher is going through some stuff right now and he needs kindness, not a reprimand.”

Buck could feel the tension return to Eddie’s body even though they were no longer touching.

“You think you know how to parent my son better than I do?”

Buck raised his hands in an attempt to diffuse the tension as Eddie went on the defensive.

“I’m not saying that,” Buck said quickly. “I’m just saying that we had a heart-to-heart and that I really think Chris could use some reassurance that this - you dating Ana - doesn’t mean that he’s going to be left behind.”

Eddie almost visibly flinched at Buck’s words, the anger leaving him in a rush, replaced by a sudden chill, an understanding. Eddie cursed quietly and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Is that what he said?”

Buck nodded, turning on his heel and making his way into the kitchen. Eddie followed along, leaning on the counter as Buck pulled two beers from the fridge and uncapped them, sliding one across the marble at Eddie.

“Between the shelter in place order and you dating again, he feels like everyone is leaving him,” Buck explained, taking a sip of his beer and regarding Eddie. “He told me that you promised him the two of you would try new things together after the whole skateboarding debacle, but this kind of came out of nowhere.”

Eddie cursed again, the conversation from that day coming back to haunt him. Of course Christopher was upset; bringing someone new into the family was a huge step, and Eddie hadn’t even asked Chris how he felt about it.

“Maybe you do know more about parenting him than I do,” Eddie said with a bitter laugh, his voice hollow.

“Come on, man, you know that’s not it,” Buck assured him, setting down his beer and coming around to Eddie’s side of the counter. He put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and Eddie would be lying if he said Buck’s touch wasn’t exactly what he needed right then. “Christopher came to me because he needed a friend, but he’s going to need his dad to walk him through this new normal.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Eddie lamented.

Buck’s hand stayed in place, its weight grounding Eddie as anxiety gnawed at him. It was terrifying, the realization that Christopher was growing up, understanding more than Eddie was giving him credit for, and Eddie wasn’t sure he was ready to take on some of the big conversations they needed to have. Shannon would have been great at it, and with her by his side it might not have been so dizzying, but he didn’t know how he was supposed to manage on his own.

“Nothing worth doing is ever easy,” Buck said sagely like he was reading off a motivational poster. “But it’s worthwhile, and you’re not alone. You’ve got Bobby, and Hen, and - and you’ve got me. I may not be a dad, but I was a pretty messed up kid. If nothing else, I can tell you what not to do.”

Eddie’s heart ached at Buck’s attempt at jest. Setting his beer down, he turned slowly to face his best friend, meeting Buck’s eyes. There, under a veil of confidence and conviction, behind the hurt at memories of his own childhood, Eddie saw a shadow of something different, something more. It was gone in a flash, before he could even begin to delve into it, but it made the gears in Eddie’s head turn a bit as he processed what that look might’ve meant.

Clearing his throat before he could get completely waylaid, deciding it was neither the time nor the place to dwell on whatever moment had just transpired, Eddie glanced around the apartment again.

“Christopher’s been in the bathroom a while, I should go check on him.”

“I’ll get him,” Buck interjected. “Make yourself at home.”

Eddie agreed with a nod, watching Buck disappear further into the apartment before making his way to the couch. Christopher’s crutches were propped against the side of it and Eddie relaxed a fraction at the tangible proof that Christopher was there and safe. He rested his elbows on his knees as he sat, dropping his head into his hands and wondering just where he’d screwed up parenting so badly that Christopher didn’t think he could open up and talk to him about what was on his mind.

“If we need to take a break, I’ll understand.”

Eddie smiled and held up a hand.

“Hold on, hold on. He and I can figure this out. In the meantime, I don’t want you going anywhere. Got that?”

Ana’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, not that he’d noticed it at the time. He’d been too busy looking ahead to a future where he wasn’t so cripplingly alone. Of course he had his coworkers and his family. He also had Buck.

Buck, who would drop everything to help out even without Eddie having to ask. Buck, whom Christopher looked at like he’d hung the moon. Buck, who was in his heart and on his mind even when he was miles away.

But he needed someone in the in-between. Someone whose touch could calm him, ground him, who could reassure him that maybe he wasn’t making an absolute mess of parenting, learning, and growing as a person. Someone who could be his heart and his soul. His best friend.

But he already had that too, didn’t he?

“I got it,” Ana’s voice called to him through the cobwebs, returning him to that moment.

“I’ll uh, talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

Eddie shook his head, dispelling the unwelcome flashback. His heart beat heavily in his chest at the implications of the memory and he nearly jumped as a weight landed on the couch beside him. Looking over, Eddie found Christopher sitting at his side, his head bowed and looking so much younger and more innocent than Eddie was used to seeing.

Any remaining anger that Eddie felt disappeared as Christopher worried with the hem of his shirt, not meeting Eddie’s eyes. Eddie shifted closer, putting an arm around Chris’ shoulders and pulling him close, pressing a kiss into Christopher’s hair.

“I’m glad you’re safe, mijo,” Eddie murmured, holding Christopher tightly enough that the boy squirmed in his grip. “You scared me.”

“Sorry, dad,” Christopher said quietly, keeping his gaze averted. “I won’t do it again.”

“I appreciate that, but I want you to know that I’m not mad at you. I understand.”

Eddie’s compassion piqued Christopher’s interest and he finally looked up, cautiously meeting Eddie’s gaze. Eddie smiled, brushing a few stray curls away from Christopher’s forehead.

“I was wrong, buddy, and I’m sorry,” Eddie said softly. “I should have talked to you before I started dating again. That’s on me. I made a promise to you and I broke it, and now I’m going to make it right, okay?”

“How?” Christopher asked.

“By starting over,” Eddie replied with a courage that he wasn’t sure he could live up to. “By breaking it off with her and by starting again with someone else, but only if that’s okay with you.”

Christopher considered the words for a moment and smiled, nodding as he leaned into Eddie again and wrapped his arms around him. Eddie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and embraced Chris, holding onto him for a long moment. He glanced up as he sensed movement in the periphery of his vision and found Buck watching the two of them from the kitchen.

“Can you start over with Buck?” Christopher asked, and Eddie’s heart nearly stopped as he wondered whether Buck could hear them from his vantage point. Buck’s face gave nothing away, and Eddie operated on the hope that they were out of earshot as he agreed to something he thought he’d have a little more time to process before acting on.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Eddie whispered, holding Christopher just a little tighter to borrow some of the boy’s unbridled courage and enthusiasm. “Do you think he’ll say yes?”

Christopher giggled.

“Yeah! He promised he wasn’t going anywhere.”

Eddie’s heart leapt at the implications of Buck’s promise to Christopher, settling into a quick, erratic drumbeat as he wondered whether Buck’s sentiments would stay the same once Eddie came out and admitted that he’d love nothing more than to have Buck in their lives forever, and not just for evenings and weekends.

“Okay,” Eddie said quietly. “Do you think I should do it now?”

Christopher nodded, giving Eddie a playful shove to get him going. Eddie took a slow, deep, steadying breath and stood, slipping his hands into his pockets to keep himself from fidgeting as he made his way into the kitchen. He could hear the drag of fabric on fabric as Christopher swiveled on the couch and he could feel Chris’ gaze on him as he made his way toward Buck. Buck’s expression was quizzical as Eddie approached and he slid Eddie’s beer in his direction again as though sensing Eddie’s nervousness.

“Good talk?” Buck asked casually.

“Yeah, I think so,” Eddie replied. “We came to an understanding.”

Buck raised an eyebrow, wordlessly encouraging Eddie to go on.

“I’m breaking up with Ana.”

Eddie had expected surprise, disbelief, maybe, but not the warmth and approval that Buck’s expression held.

“You’re a good dad, Eddie. Chris is lucky to have you, and I’m sure you’ll find someone even better for you one day.”

Eddie picked up his beer and averted his gaze as he took a long swig.

“I’ve already got someone better.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie watched Buck tilt his head curiously. He could feel those blue eyes burning a hole straight through him and he took another sip before setting his beer down. The clink of glass on marble was louder than he’d intended as the bottle slipped from his nervous fingers and it didn’t escape Buck’s notice.

“Eddie?”

“I’ve had someone better for a while,” Eddie continued before he could talk himself out of it. “I just hope he’ll have me back.”

Eddie looked over pointedly to meet Buck’s gaze. He watched Buck process, the other man’s expression changing from confusion, to realization, to acceptance, and then to something else. Something that made Eddie weak-kneed as he realized just how desperately he’d wanted to see it in Buck’s eyes for so long. For longer than he cared to admit.

Approval.

“You mean… me?”

Buck had to be sure, of course. He had feelings of his own, feelings his tone and the way the words caught in his throat when he’d asked Eddie about his date had nearly belied. He’d never been good at reading people, though, and as much as he knew Eddie inside and out, he found it even harder to read him, and so he’d kept those feelings to himself. To see them being reciprocated was something Buck was both desperate and completely unprepared for.

“Yeah, Buck, I mean you.”

Their gazes stayed locked as Eddie moved around the counter between them, closing in on Buck. Eddie bit his lip, feeling suddenly shy, unsure of himself, and Buck’s heart swelled with love. Buck broke into a soft, easy smile, reaching out to wrap his arms around Eddie as the other man stepped into reach. Eddie sagged into Buck’s embrace, locking his hands around Buck’s waist and holding onto him, breathing him in.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

Eddie pulled back just enough to be able to see Buck’s face. He chuckled softly, inhaling sharply a moment later as Buck tilted his head, pressing his lips to Eddie’s, effectively stealing his breath away. The joy Eddie felt as they connected was so deep and fulfilling that any doubts he had went up in smoke and he smiled into the kiss as Chris’ cheers of celebration filled the air.

#9-1-1 #Buddie #Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #Christopher Diaz #9-1-1 fanfiction #fanfiction #missing scene

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the-pontiac-bandit · 4 years ago

Note

If you're still answering tortall prompts, how about Raoul + family?

wow why NOT write 2000 words of blatant, shameless fluff about families you make for yourself??? inspired by this quote from tammy: “[Raoul and Buri] have glorious sex under trees, in tents, in lakes…. In carriages. I think at some point they’ll probably adopt. By the time they’re attached Buri’s getting a little old to have any of her own. It’s not like there aren’t plenty of orphans around.”

As Raoul stretched out, trying to make himself comfortable in his too-hard, too-small desk chair, he savored the warm feeling filling his chest and threatening to spill out and take physical form in front of him. In the midst of the most head-spinning, headache-inducing, sleep-sapping, joy-filled week he’d ever experienced, he’d had precious little time to slow down and simply exist within his new reality. He thought to close his eyes, the better to feel everything, but they only stayed shut for a moment before they forced themselves back open. He couldn’t stop looking at the scene in front of him for long.

Buri lounged cross-legged on their bed, far more relaxed than he had been at any point this week. Kel sat next to her, her back straight and her long legs carefully hanging off one side so as not to get dust from the practice courts on their bedding. Both had just returned from a full morning of training, sweaty despite a change of clothes and coated in dust despite a thorough washing, courtesy of a long, hot summer that had refused to give them rain.

Between them was the baby.

His son, he reminded himself. He thought the words a few extra times, even mouthing them once, as he had a thousand times in the last five days, as if forming them on his lips might make them feel more real.

None of this felt real to him yet. He supposed most people had nine months to get used to the idea before seven pounds of screaming chaos turned their lives upside down. He’d had exactly fifty-three days—he’d counted on Tuesday—so he supposed he still had some catching up to do. His mind was still reeling from the conversation that had led them here, and he wasn’t sure yet that he’d ever catch up.

He’d been sitting in this chair and pretending to read reports while mostly thinking about his right knee, which had been bothering him despite Duke Baird’s best efforts. He wasn’t sure why he remembered so specifically, since his days were nearly as certain to contain aches and bruises as they were to contain a sunrise. Buri had returned from a meeting with Thayet and Onua, although really, the word meeting conferred far too much dignity on what was more likely a combination of trick riding and palace gossip. They’d settled into the evening routine they’d shared for nearly a decade, working in comfortable silence with candles lit between them.

“Do you want children?” she’d asked, breaking the quiet spell of paperwork that gripped their nights.

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he’d replied with a snort.

She’d thrown a pillow at him. He had caught it and thrown it back without even looking up from the thick stack of papers in his lap, with a rude hand gesture following behind.

“You know what I meant. Did you want children? Before?”

Something in her voice had shifted. He’d finally looked up to find her eyes already trained on him. Her face had been so unexpectedly earnest that he’d actually taken a pause, had slowed the speed of their consistently paced banter, to think.

“I suppose I hadn’t given it much thought. There were friends, and then there was drinking, and then there was the Own, and then there was you,” he’d told her with a shrug. “I do like children, but I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

She’d chewed on her lip for a moment. He remembered being surprised by that. After nearly thirty years of friendship, she rarely took the time to think before she spoke with him anymore.

“Spit it out.”

“Do you want children?”

“And we’re back to the start,” he’d said with a grin.

“I spat it out. Now you answer it.”

“Hypothetically, sure, I’d enjoy a child. Now can I ask why you’re asking at all?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she’d started. She’d paused for a moment, holding her breath as though she was trying to decide whether she should speak at all. And then she’d let it all spill out at once. “I’ve been thinking it might be nice to have one. A child, I mean.”

She’d held up a hand and made a face before Raoul could even begin to formulate a joke about her monthlies or her aching hips or what they might do to make that happen. “Not like that. Thayet was telling us today about homes they’re opening in Corus, for children without parents. We were thinking about the children we traveled with back in Sarain, when Alanna found us all those years ago. Gods, it was terrifying, having Thayet and an infant to protect, especially when Thayet was ready to throw her life away for the infant. And I started thinking—we have money, and safety, and love, and there are all these children who have none of those things, and—”

She’d been speaking faster and faster, but she’d cut herself off abruptly at the look on Raoul’s face. “Never mind, you can forget—”

Raoul had smiled back at her, straightening up in his chair and marking his spot in the report on his lap before putting it aside. “So you want a child.”

The weeks that followed had been ones filled with paperwork and inquiries at the palace records about the process of appointing a common-born heir to a noble house and at the magistrate’s about drawing up paperwork for adoption. There had been careful planning and hushed discussions with only their closest friends about the best way to proceed. Buri had insisted on an older child, maybe eight or nine, saying that the few diapers she’d changed on the road to Rachia were enough for a lifetime.

Instead, five days ago, Buri had entered their rooms carrying a squalling mess of blankets with an air of forced nonchalance that had told him immediately what she’d done. Instead of clarifying, or teasing her, or asking if it was the smallest eight-year-old he’d ever seen, he’d simply held his arms out. While Buri had supplied endless explanations about Thayet ambushing her with a baby, he’d stared at the squirming mess of baby in his lap, blankets already coming undone, absolutely entranced.

“He’s tiny,” he’d commented. His voice sounded like it was coming from someone else’s body. The baby was only just too large for him to hold in one hand, although he’d never try to prove it. The fragility of the life sitting in his lap was overwhelming.

“His mother died yesterday. Childbed fever, caught too late to help. The priestesses at the Goddess’ Temple were worried he might need more than the homes could give.”

Raoul had nodded, only half listening. The baby’s eyes were screwed shut while he wailed. His fine hair was dark, his skin tanned like that of the Bazhir babies Raoul had seen in his year in the Great Southern Desert. One of the baby’s hands had broken free of its blanket. It had waved in the air, keeping pace with his cries, which were far louder than he’d have believed such a tiny body could produce. He’d intercepted the hand with one finger and then watched in wonder as the baby had grasped it.

“Does he have a name?”

“Pathom,” she’d answered definitively, before belatedly remembering that names were the sort of thing parents might choose together. “That is, if—”

“Pathom of Goldenlake,” he’d cut her off with a smile.

The days that followed had been a blur. Thayet had found a wet-nurse and supplied an endless stream of goods that they’d have never known a baby required. Alanna had ridden in from Pirate’s Swoop at full speed to pronounce in a gruff voice that the infant was in perfect health. Gary had gifted them a bassinet and more blankets than any human child could possibly need. Dom had found a way to convert a standard-issue burnoose into an excellent baby sling, while Evin had given them a congratulatory note from George, who complained that Alanna had left before he could finish writing, and a cheerful promise that he’d never touch a soiled diaper. Onua had given them a set of unimaginably soft stuffed ponies, perfect replicas of the horses that roamed the highlands of Sarain where she and Buri had learned to ride.

Kel, away on business with Second Company at the Gallan border, had to wait almost a full week to learn she had a new godsson. He’d met the company when they’d arrived back at the palace long past dark the night before. They’d groomed Hoshi and Sparrow together while he thanked the gods for perhaps the hundredth time that her “testy pony” had finally found his way out of the Own stables and into a pleasant retirement.

Finally, when the last of the men had trudged towards the barracks and a well-earned nights’ sleep, she’d turned to him.

“Well?”

“There’s someone important I want you to meet,” he’d said, shoving his hands in his pockets with a smile that was equal parts nervous and eager.

“Sir, I’ve already met your wife.”

Raoul had let out a hearty chuckle. “But you haven’t met my son.”

Kel had frozen. Her face fell back into perfect stillness, the way it did when her mind was working its fastest.

After a second that felt like an eternity, she replied, “Sir, I saw Buri five weeks ago. If you’re telling me you’ve managed to grow a baby since then—”

“We didn’t, but someone else did. We adopted him from the Temple after his mother died in childbirth.”

Understanding flashed in Kel’s eyes while her face broke into a rare broad grin. She’d wrapped her arms around him in a fast, tight hug accompanied by enthusiastic congratulations that had gone suddenly silent in surprise when he’d added, a wicked glint in his eyes, “You really should come by tomorrow to meet your godsson.”

Buri had intercepted Kel on the practice courts the following morning with the dual goals of keeping her own skills sharp and ensuring that Kel would not be too polite to visit. And so now, he watched as Kel bounced his son with the brisk certainty of someone who had held a baby a thousand times. He could hear her cooing quietly at Pathom, softening her consonants while she told him all about forest campaigns in hill country. He knew he should ask her to speak up—if she was going to give her report verbally, she could at least give it at a volume he could hear—but he found he wasn’t particularly interested in the intricacies of the Second’s bowstring supplies. Buri made eye contact with him behind Kel’s back, laughter in her eyes. Buri could laugh if she wanted, but he was taking notes on Kel’s tactics. He would have sworn this was the quietest he’d heard his son in the entirety of his hundred-and-twenty-odd hours in the palace.

As his son stared wide-eyed at his former squire, Raoul was reminded of a comment he’d heard as they’d left Turomot’s offices the other day with paperwork making Pathom officially their own. “Well, that feckless Goldenlake dolt’s managed to start a family, even if it was too late to do the thing properly,” the Lord of Genlith had muttered at their backs as they’d left. Buri had elbowed him and whispered a quick “Feckless? I’ll show him feckless,” but her heart wasn’t in it. Before she’d even finished the thought, her eyes were back on Pathom, squirming against her chest in the burnoose that bound him to her.

And now, Raoul watched his son, passed between his wife and the woman who had been like his daughter long before any papers said he was a father. Stuffed Saren ponies lined the shelf above an intricately carved bassinet filled with beautifully embroidered blankets. A protection charm had been pulled from Alanna’s packs to hang at the head, while twin leather circles bearing the insignias of the Riders and the Own, no doubt carefully cut by mischievous commanders from the saddle packs of some unprepared trainees, was secured carefully at the foot. Raoul had to smile for a moment at Genlith’s ignorance—he’d begun his family right on time.

#carrie answers #my writing #anonymous #raoul of goldenlake and malorie's peak #raoul of goldenlake #buriram tourakom #tortall #tamora pierce #protector of the small #keladry of mindelan #okay we've got all the found family shit in here #the friends? check #the surrogate daughter? check #adoption? check #also who said a baby can't have three godsmothers definitely not buri and raoul #also on ao3

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years ago

Text

DEBRIS AND MISERY

DOUBT MAKES THE STRONG WEAK ; PART 8 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.5k SUMMARY: From concussions to destruction, you find yourself developing an odd trust in the last two people you would even begin to have faith in and when the apocalypse seems unavoidable, you discover that there may be more to the mystery of the universe. A/N: Well, this chapter is long. And mainly pertains around the theme of 'doubt'. A lot more of Sylvie stuff and Loki just having heart eyes the whole time. I love this chapter and I can’t wait to write more as the story ends. Please tell me what you love, hate, anything (maybe theories lol). Thank you for showing so much love. gif from this gifset by @kamalaskhans WARNINGS: Swearing. Apocalypse. Injuries. Blood. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

You were once a fighter.

Hunter E-87 was the name you once knew, hollered through different fields and dimensions in time and space. You fought for what you thought was right, pledging allegiance to a cosmic establishment that held all power to a single timeline and never questioned the works of the Time-Keepers. The Sacred Timeline is indeed sacrosanct, too important, too valuable to interfere. You fight in the name of the single thread of time, the bark of a tree, forbidden to bare branches of a potential multiverse. You fight because the thought of alternate timelines used to scare you. Yet, if alternate universes were meant to be, the lives you took and destroyed are now in the grasp of your bloody hands. You hold the responsibility of the death of the innocent, taking part in mass genocide.

But promises must be kept.

The thought constantly haunts you in your sleep. You have dreams of death, war, destruction, and famine from across the universe. People seem to glide like specters in the world built by your imagination and mind. You have seen a lot, more than any being in the universe should, but no one talks about the aftermath of witnessing the tragedy of the universe as time goes on and on. No one talks about what it does to the mind. Music from cassettes and the wonder of human space exploration were distractions to cope with the grinding hole in you and the fact you might be turning truly crazy.

Sometimes, you would like to be human—Fewer problems and less time to live.

You blame the sickening and bizarre vivid images that come and go whenever you close your eyes as a symptom of being a hunter. The others are stronger than you. Well, they act like they are. Becoming an analyst made you sleep better but there was always doubt. Sakaar made you doubt.

Doubt makes the strong weak. Doubt makes you weak.

“You startin’ to have doubts?”

Green eyes. They watch you with curiosity with a hint of amusement. You hear yourself hum. “Would it be bad if I said yes?”

He laughs. It’s mighty. “Yeah. Definitely bad.”

A beat of silence. You feel your eyes start to sting. “I couldn’t even tell my mom.” A laugh escapes your lips despite the hurt you feel in your chest. “Did you tell anyone? Your wife?”

You see him now, blonde hair slicked back and deep-set eyes. He shakes his head. “Nope. Not even my wife.”

“She’ll be proud, you know.”

“I know...So will your mom. Jesus, you’re gonna be the first woman on—”

Wake up.

“—Is she dead?”

The voice is familiar. It pulls you back to reality but right now, your eyes are too heavy. Doubt is the first emotion that waves through your brain before the process of pain can even occur—uncertain if you are dead or alive.

You can’t feel your limbs, they are too weak.

Doubt makes the strong weak. Doubt makes you weak.

Maybe, you are dead.

“This is your fault! You’re the one who swung that sword of yours to her head! You’re careless—”

Sword...Sword...Careless? You remember a train, a fight.

“Oh, I’m the one who’s careless? You’re the one who’s drunk!”

Drunk...Who was drunk?

Then, your voice echoes in your head, images of a certain brunette with a deep frown. He called you a mewling quim. You quoted Hávamál. You then left him and wandered through the other cabins of the train. He blew his cover. He got you into a fight.

Loki. Loki Laufeyson.

Son of a bitch.

Your eyes are wide open now. All you see are the faces of Loki and Sylvie, looming over you. Just two floating heads. Then, the pain arrives, coursing through the entire back of your head. You wince in immediate reaction and the floating heads turn to you in an instant.

What a way to wake up from a concussion.

You remember everything now, but you certainly don’t recall being on the outside of the train. Must have gotten thrown out. The thought angers you, irritation practically boiling to the brim. Yet, it’s your fault. You hadn't thought to babysit the very person you wish were dead. As your palm grips onto the dirt beneath, muscling all strength left to lift yourself. Your head feels light and heavy all at once. Not good.

“Are you alright?” is the question that flies from Loki’s lips, tinged with an emotion you never knew he had for another but himself—worry. Whether selfless or selfish, you wish to ignore the complexity of Loki’s reactions and possible change in character, especially towards you. Ever since you stepped foot on Lamentis, all you felt was pain. You have never been injured so much within the last few hours than in your entire life and weirdly, you feel fine.

Sylvie is quick to stand, watching the two of you work in tandem. His grip finds the curve of your shoulders as you stick your hand out to grip him by the bicep. At your touch, you notice how his arm stiffens ever so slightly. You don’t say anything.

Some things about Loki are best left unknown and unanswered.

Today is filled with a lot of getting off the ground in the most unceremonious way possible.

A deep exhale leaves your lips, wisps of your hair drifting with the brutal breeze from your nostrils. Beads of sweat trail along the curve of your forehead and the back of your neck. Some entangled with the strands of your hair. Your hands feel clammy and dirty but you run them to push your hair back and away from your face anyway.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, pulling yourself away from his touch.

You finally get a good look at the two. Loki looks like complete shit but Sylvie manages to maintain the regalness to the locks of her hair despite her opposing overall behavior. It’s the Asgardian blood coursing through her veins. You cannot hide your ancestors' blood. It’s hard to believe the two are the same—one being. Yet, it's believable when you’re angry at the two of them.

The two messed up your career, that’s why.

Unbothered and uncivilized. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.

As your eyes shift along the train tracks that meander along a gorge with steep rocky walls that leer above it, you catch sight of a spark by your feet, glinting under the iridescent sky.

It’s the TemPad, shattered into pieces; you recognize the color gold of its border.

Your eyes grow wide, mouth agape. You don’t even feel angry anymore, it’s more than that. You stick out your hand to gesture towards the destroyed device, “Is that—Is that the TemPad?” you ask as your other hand lifts to hold the side of your head. “Or am I just seeing things from the concussion?”

Sylvie is the one to speak. “It’s not the concussion.”

You suddenly feel like you’re burning.

If it were possible, you could have instantly killed him with a look.

“You. You killed us!” you step closer to him and for a moment, Loki doesn’t exactly know what to do. “So, it’s my fault then? You were the one who left me alone in the lounge.” are the words that leave his lips. Completely useless. Trying to diffuse the tension is the exact opposite of what he does.

His silver tongue isn’t so shiny and silver anymore.

You don’t pull your blow this time. Your palm strikes his cheek, rocking his head to the side. Your hand is oddly soft. Loki winces and you stand your ground. “You’re a jerk and an asshole. You’ve probably been called that for all your life and yet, here you are. Still, the most insensitive and pathetic man I’ve ever met,” you articulate your words with frustration and rage. You don’t raise your voice like before, it’s low and frightfully intimidating. “And I’m not your babysitter.”

—

Battles, ruination, and fracas gave a sense of familiarity to Sylvie in a time of an impending apocalypse. When worlds end, benevolence is resolute. The tragedy of the end of lost souls—afraid to die. But as daunting as the apocalypse is, the beauty of their souls finally returning to the universe protrudes amongst the debris and misery.

She sees herself in the two of you, as much as she doesn’t identify as a Loki anymore, and her hatred towards the TVA. You have a temper and he doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.

You’re mysterious in an almost enchanting way and possibly significant as you seemed to be at first glance. Sylvie is highly curious about you.

You don’t stray too far from the group, only to find rest by the edge of a pit made by a crashing meteor. You sit with your back turned against the very two beings you distrust as you watch the border where the bustling city of Shuroo is based. Your guard is down and you don’t care at this point. Everyone is about to die anyway.

Sylvie’s gaze finds Loki who seems to be only watching the back of your still figure, eyes glinting with an emotion unknown to her. Possibly regret? Sylvie doesn’t know what regret looks like. But fear and anger, she feels it radiating from you. She knows it. Something tells her you’re not solely angry at her and Loki.

She finds herself drifting closer to you. You don’t move. She cautiously settles beside you. “You’re not hiding a knife somewhere, aren’t you?”

You merely scoff, caressing your head, “You’re the one to say.”

Sylvie blinks. Fair enough.

Silence. Sylvie’s eyes shift to the handkerchief tied around your arm, stained with blood. “How’s the arm?”

You hum. “Surprisingly, fine.”

Oh, Sylvie knows it’s fine. She knows what Loki did. She decides not to mention the scratch she made across your cheek.

“Did the slap make you feel better?”

The question is hinted at near sarcasm, but genuinely, she wants to know.

“Yes, it did. You should try it sometime.”

She simply hums. “I would have but you beat me to it.”

A turn of your lips as they curve into a small smile. Sylvie watches with an odd sense of satisfaction. “You know, I’m still mad at you. For what you did to me.” Your words are slow. You find yourself swallowing. “But it’s nothing compared to what the TVA did to you.”

Empathy. Is this what empathy feels like? The moment when someone finally understands what it’s like to be alone for so long. Your lives are different but they reflect in certain ways. You have had your fair share of living in constant fear and constantly running. Sylvie finds herself wanting to tell you that she hadn’t simply pushed you into Sakaar. When it’s a mission, things are never accidental. She always has a plan.

Yet, she chooses not to say anything.

You speak again but merely whisper, fidgeting with your fingers, “Before Sakaar—did you enchant me?”

It's as if you're reading her mind.

“Are you seeing things?”

After a pause, the fidgeting stops.

“I’ve seen things all my life, images. Brief and insignificant. But ever since I was in Sakaar, it’s gotten a lot harder to differentiate a dream and a memory.”

“That’s because they aren’t dreams.”

Your hardened gaze finds hers for a brief moment, nearly growing wide at her words but in an instant, your guard is up once you hear the shuffling of feet behind you where Loki lingers. The subject is dropped immediately. He meets Sylvie’s gaze, the two share a knowing look.

Your anger is provoked and well deserved and yet, the last thing he wants is to be your enemy. Loki doesn’t know why. He has lived a life full of them.

You’re different.

He stills, wondering if you’re going to lash out at him again but when he notices your slow breaths, he decides to sit next to you anyway, awkward glances to you in his periphery. A deep sigh escapes his lips, fiddling with his fingers. “What now?”

Sylvie is the one to answer. “I don’t know. You broke the TemPad.”

“Well—”

“And that planet is about to crash into us.”

Loki looks up at the nearing planet of Lamentis. He blinks. “Well, yes, but—”

“Yes, but what?”

“Well, the entire moon is destroyed, right?”

Sylvie is trying to suppress your growing annoyance. “Yep. And everyone on it is killed.”

But Loki pesters on. “Including us.”

She raises her voice. “Yes, including us.” Loki glances at you momentarily. A pause. He furrows his brows in thought.

“What about the ark?”

“The ark never leaves because it's destroyed.”

Suddenly, an epiphany, his eyes light up. He turns to you and Sylvie, “Never had us on it.”

You suddenly scoff at his words. “Are you suggesting we hijack the ark and make sure it gets off this moon?” You turn to him to only spot a vague smile playing upon his lips. He nods in return. “Sounds like a good idea to me, Agent.”

You merely blink, watching the way his eyes shift across your face. First, you’re struck with uncertainty. It’s a risk, a huge one but you know, risks are meant to be uncertain. Risks are also vital in success. Hesitation, doubt—they make you weak. This time, you want to be strong. Strong enough for one last push to save your life.

“Okay.” is what you say, your expression reflecting his.

For the first time, since he took your hand in Sakaar, you’re starting to trust him.

—

The walk to Shuroo seemed endless. You trail behind the two, feeling like you’re about to suffocate.

“—To preserve the connection, I have to create a fantasy from their memories.”

Loki and Sylvie had been conversing about the science and functions of enchantment in a rather surprisingly calm manner. Loki hums, amused by her elucidation. “And you call me a magician.”

Her expression is unchanged as she continues to trudge alongside Loki, ignoring his previous statement. “That young soldier from the TVA, her mind was messed up. Everything clouded. I had to pull a memory from hundreds of years prior...before she even fought for them.”

Loki halts abruptly in his step, hand flying to grab Sylvie’s arm. “What? What'd you say? Before she joined the TVA?”

Sylvie blinks. “Yeah. She was just a regular person on Earth.”

His mind starts to reel, face muddled with confusion. “I was told that everyone who works for the TVA was created by the Time-Keepers.”

“That's ridiculous. They're all variants, just like us. Including her.” Sylvie gestures discreetly to you who has stopped to take a breather, hands on your hips as you blink up to the sky.

You, Mobius, all of them. All variants.

“They don't know that. She doesn’t know that.” he breathes a terrified expression.

Sylvie looks at you from afar. You’re now looking at them with a bewildered expression. “What?” you call out, voice echoing through the wide area, in a somewhat defensive tone.

She turns to Loki once more, voice nearly faltering. “I have a feeling she already knows it.”

—

Loki doesn’t realize the unfamiliarity of hopelessness. Throughout his life, he was constantly surrounded by those with unfaltering determination—His brother, family, friends who were warriors, The Avengers.

Never was it known that he would see it burning in your eyes as they reflect the growing fire of the Ark, crumbling down, tongues of fire engulfing it whole before you. His heart burns with it as Shuroo falls quiet—only the sounds of the metallic crashing of the disintegrating parts of the ship falling from above and the screams of the rich and deemed worthy to live. Every Lamentian still alive held their breath, a moment's silence for their lives must end. Everything must end.

So close yet so far.

Sylvie is gone by the minute as the city starts to descend in terror and panic. He stands behind your still form, just watching your only chance of making it out, swallowed by its own billowing smoke. He reaches out for you, tugging you by the sleeve. “We should leave,” he says with a sudden sense to protect you. There isn’t much to do at this point. It doesn't matter if you are hit by the falling pieces of the Ark because you are all going to die anyway.

But he considers it a gesture, as insignificant and small it is. The least he could do is to distract you from the end, whether for a mere second or minutes.

“I know things haven’t been the best between us and I concede I bring out the worst in you, but I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

You turn to Loki with his sudden words. He watches the way your expression softens so gracefully, face adorned with gashes and wounds. Your mouth twitches as you respond with a gentle voice. “I forgive you.”

Three words. Very powerful words.

His heart skips a beat.

You find Sylvie at the brink of the city, sitting on a stretched slab of rock amongst the dirt, watching the horizon where the planet starts to meet the moon. Loki still has his hand around your arm, but you don’t complain. It’s your only source of support at the moment. It’s an unconscious move, but everything about it feels right when the two of you settle beside her, shoulders brushing against each other. It only makes sense to want to feel the nearness, the closeness of another as the light at the end of the tunnel begins to dim.

It’s impending. It’s scary.

“I remember Asgard.”

Sylvie’s voice trembles, her eyes are somber.

“Not much, but I remember. My home, my people, my life. Then, the TVA showed up, erased my reality, and took me, prisoner. I was just a child.”

You turn to her, guilt bubbling in your chest, but you don’t say anything. You let her speak. It’s only right.

“I escaped.” she breathes, blinking the brimming tears in her eyes away. ”Stole a TemPad and I ran for a long, long time, which really sucked. Everywhere and every-when I went, it caused a Nexus event.”

Sylvie turns to you with a melancholic gaze. “The universe wants to break free, so it manifests chaos. Like me being born the Goddess of Mischief. But to you and the TVA, I’m not supposed to exist.”

For so long, you hadn’t realized the consequences of your work at the TVA. You believed you were right. That erasing, resetting realities were meant to be. You cannot comprehend how it only occurred to you to question the authority of the Time-Keepers over time itself after Sakaar. All those years of being ignorant and selfish. You hadn’t realized. You never did.

But now you know.

Sylvie continues, gaze shifting away from you. “I figured out where to hide. And so that's where I grew up, the ends of a thousand worlds. Now...that's where I'll die.”

Then, silence. It sits heavily between the three of you.

“The universe—isn’t she beautiful?” Your voice is soft, eyes trained on the horizon—a fleet of asteroids, they reflect the end. But they seem to dance to the silence of the apocalypse, drifting across the stratosphere, lining the firmament. Loki’s gaze shifts to you, training on every curve of your face and the tears slipping down your cheeks. He agrees, the universe is beautiful.

You’re beautiful.

“She brings turmoil, agony, and destruction but in all her flaws, there’s beauty in her very existence.”

Your hands find Sylvie and Loki’s hands, holding on to them tightly as you fight the wavering of your voice.

“You...Both of you might be the epitome of chaos but you must know that you have such beautiful souls. All of us, we're her children...and if she is beautiful, so are we. And the Universe is always right. If she created you then we are wrong.”

Sylvie’s face is soft. Loki squeezes your hand.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I should have known from the start...that the TVA was lying to all of us. I should have questioned. I should have doubted—”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” she says, smiling with saddened eyes.

You laugh. You don’t know why, but you do. Maybe, it’s because you know you are a part of the problem anyway, even if you were just doing your job.

You find Loki’s gaze that’s already on you. You sigh and speak through a whisper. “I’m sorry for slapping you.”

His lips curve into a grin, eyes crinkling like your own. “It was well deserved, but I forgive you.”

Fingers entangled with the hands of two unlikely people, you finally realize what it truly feels like to not be alone. To be in the company of someone you want to be with.

“Now long now.” Those three words leave the very lips of Sylvie and your chest feels like it’s about to collapse.

You never knew you were afraid of death, yet here you are—terrified.

The ground shakes beneath you. It’s dark and there’s fire everywhere. A meteor collides to the ground just across the way, it sends smoke billowing to its surroundings faster than you can blink.

Even in the last seconds of your life, you have doubts remaining. What if the universe isn’t always right?

Then, through the growing dust, you see a spark, like lightning. A glint of a figure, standing before you. White, pure, and serene. You’re standing now, staring ahead. Sylvie and Loki cease to exist in your mind as they gaze at you with bewilderment. They anxiously call you by your name but you don’t hear it. There’s only silence now, you don’t hear anything but the ringing in your ears.

A voice, she speaks with dignity. A voice so familiar.

“Doubt makes the strong weak, my child.”

Then, you hear it. A soft hum—a Time Door glows warmth amid your impending death.

Suddenly, she’s gone.

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#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson oneshot #loki oneshot #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki series #loki spoilers #sylvie #sylvie laufeyson

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vanserraseris · 3 years ago

Note

END OF PART VII - I’m not going to lie, this chapter and the next one are probably a little more on the boring side. It’s just sort of Eris spending some time with Lucien. Shit’s gonna hit the fan soon, but Eris is just going to spend some time at the beach, for no reason really. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!!!

no im SO excited for eris and lucien brotherly boring. BEACH EP BEACH EP BEACH EP BEACH EP

Prince of Ashes. Part VII.

masterlist.

“Give me your shirt.”

“I don’t obey the orders of anyone below my station,” Eris tilted his head back, his fingers digging into the sand of the beach. He was leaning on his forearms, his eyes shut, the afternoon sun warming his face. Eris liked making snobbish remarks like that around his friends just as much as they liked reminding him that his status as heir amounted to absolutely nothing in their presence.

Micah repeated himself, “Give me your shirt.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Eris undid the laces of his thin, light brown shirt, throwing it at his friend. “Shit, Micah, you should have asked sooner.” Micah’s nose and cheeks were a frightening red colour, the gold of his tattoos bright against the burned skin of his neck, all because he was too proud to admit that he burned when he stayed out in the sun for too long.

“I hate you all,” Micah declared, lifting Eris’s shirt and putting it over his head like a cloak, shielding himself from the rays of the sun.

Eris knew Lagos was pouting, mocking, “Poor little Micah, can’t stay out in the sun.”

“Poor little Micah is going to throw sand at you,” Micah muttered.

Widge smiled, lifting the brim of the sun hat he’d borrowed from his mother. While he looked ridiculous, Widge didn't seem to care. “Not all of us have exceptional magical abilities,” he huffed a laugh as Enya jumped up, licking at his face. Eris swore that hound loved Widge more than him. Lagos was sprawled on his back, pants thrown off to the side, using his own shirt as a pillow as he laid by Eris in his undershorts. He was faintly glowing.

Eris kept expecting Lucien to do the same thing, eyes following Lucien as he played near the water’s edge. Lucien hadn’t shown signs of any other Day Court magic since Lady Morai had suppressed it, but Eris still found himself worrying over it. Rufus was also by the water’s edge, boots off, pants rolled up, and shirt left unbuttoned as he watched over Lucien. Every so often, he would kick water at their youngest brother, laughing every time Lucien told him to stop.

“Your brother is perhaps an even greater menace than you were upon your arrival at my camp,” Micah declared. He awkwardly moved towards Eris, dragging his ass along the sand while still trying to keep the shirt over his head.

“He belongs in a circus,” Lagos added.

“I like having him there,” Widge managed to get out as Enya continued to lick his cheeks.

“He’s doing alright?” Their father had recently sent Rufus to one of Autumn’s largest war camps. It was located in the South, near the Spring Court border; Eris had been sent there at two decades old with nothing but a sword, brown leathers, and a title he was pretty sure he’d never be able to live up to. Eris was proud to admit that over two centuries later, he could claim being a half-decent commander of his father’s armies - not fantastic at combat, but damn-good at military strategy.

Eris had heard that Rufus, despite his more care-free attitude, was doing quite well, but it was always Eris’s first instinct to assume that Rufus was going to get himself killed or cause some sort of international catastrophe. Especially with political tensions in Prythian so high lately, Eris found that he’d become quite the mother hen, constantly asking his friends how Rufus was holding up. “He’s absolutely mad,” Micah laughed, “I could throttle him sometimes.”

“Cauldron, does he write his reports backwards?” Eris smiled just thinking about it, “Rufus used to do shit like that to his tutors, you can read them in front of a mirror.”

“He walks around the camp with a near-empty cognac bottle filled with apple juice, and makes bets on whether or not he can hit moving targets with his bow and arrows,” Lagos said. “He won 50 gold marks from me before I found out what he’d been doing.”

“Serves you right,” Eris grinned.

“He also tells us the most interesting things,” Micah hummed. He nudged at Eris with his knee. “Things that you neglect to mention.”

Lagos didn't sound too amused as he said, “Told us he was afraid for your life.”

Eris knew exactly what Rufus had told them. “If this is about Lizaveta—”

“Of course it’s about Lady Lizaveta,” Lagos leaned up on an elbow. “Your choice in lovers is abysmal, truly.”

“Don’t offend me,” Micah mumbled.

Lagos ignored him, “It’s like you dive headfirst into relationships that are bound to get you killed.” Eris sneered, mostly because Lagos was right. If his father ever learned of the countless male lovers Eris had been with over the centuries, Eris was almost certain that Beron would kill him. Or if he found out about the lesser faeries, or the females of common birth. Eris had been very good at ignoring his father’s rants about degeneracy when he’d been much younger.

But Lizaveta was a full-blooded noble, and Eris didn’t really see the problem. “How might this relationship kill me?”

“You’re sneaking around with a female who’s rumoured to have killed her own husband in his sleep less than a decade ago. Does that seem like a good idea?”

“I’m sure he deserved it,” Widge muttered absently, “Lots of lords in Autumn deserve it.” Everyone turned to face him, but he was looking off into the distance, no longer paying any attention to them.

Micah placed a gentle hand on Eris’s knee, “We’re just messing with you.” Eris knew they meant well, but his friends had a horrible habit of sticking their noses into Eris’s business, all hidden behind the guise that they “cared for his well-being,” as they so often reminded him.

“Just make sure you’re not her next victim,” Lagos added, “And do try and keep your father from finding out.”

Eris scowled, “Your faith in me is astounding.” He’d had centuries worth of practice in keeping his lovers a secret from the rest of his family and ensuring that rumours didn’t make their way to the always-listening ears of Autumn Court aristocrats. It was exhausting. He looked away from his friends to make sure Lucien and Rufus hadn’t drowned while he’d been distracted.

Lucien seemed to have convinced Rufus to play some sort of aggressive game with him, spinning Lucien around in his arms before throwing him deeper into the ocean. Lucien landed in the water with a big splash, Rufus roaring with laughter. Eris would have scolded them both had Lucien not jumped up from the water with a huge grin on his face, looking very foolish as he struggled to run at Rufus.

“Just be careful, we quite enjoy your company.” Micah squeezed his knee once before moving his hand, his fingers now dragging through the sand.

Eris finally looked away from his brothers after deciding that they would be fine, turning to face Micah again. “Let’s talk about what happened in Spring.”

“Yes, let’s talk about how we’re on the verge of another war, Eris would rather talk about our impending doom than his lover.” Eris glared at Lagos.

Micah scoffed, “There’s not going to be a fucking war, both of them are too young - untried. They aren’t going to do something so stupid.”

Eris considered this. Rhysand and Tamlin had just become new High Lords, perhaps they would start a war just to prove that they could. “If somebody killed my mother, I might start a war.”

“You might start a war just for fun.” Eris kicked sand at Lagos, a crooked smile on his face that was becoming more and more rare. Eris knew Lagos simply meant well.

Lagos returned the smile, dimples showing. Lagos was perhaps the only one of his friends that constantly bothered Eris for being a cruel prince of the Autumn Court.

“Cauldron, you wouldn’t do that either,” Micah seemed so sure. Eris sometimes wished he had that amount of confidence in his ability to make good choices.

Widge furrowed his brows, looking up from what he was in the process of writing in messy, scrawled script in the sand. “Wait, what happened in Spring?”

Somebody would explain it to him later, Eris thought. “I wonder if Rhysand will be a better High Lord than his father.” It was no secret that the Hewn City was more horrible than any part of Beron’s territory. Eris had despised the place since the first moment he’d stepped foot in it. He’d take his own two-faced city of Calchas over that wretched city any day.

“Probably not,” Micah adjusted the shirt over his head, “But at least he’s better looking.”

Eris would have to agree. With the dark hair and those star-lit, violet eyes, Rhysand was one of the better looking faeries Eris had ever seen. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, “I like his general better.”

Micah grinned, “What about the shadowsinger?” Eris grinned back, “Fancy the shadowsinger, do you?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Those people are from the Night Court.” Widge looked confused, much like he usually did.

“Very observant,” Lagos muttered.

“We’re talking about Tamlin and Rhysand,” Eris explained. “The new High Lords.”

“Heard about that,” Widge said with a nod. “Sounds like a mess.” With a shake of his head, almost like he was clearing his thoughts, Widge went back to whatever he was writing in the sand without so much as a second glance in their direction. Eris shifted slightly so that he could more clearly see what Widge was doing. He’d drawn three interconnected circles in the sand, numbers and formulas surrounding them.

Eris had always enjoyed watching Widge work, liked trying to figure out what he was doing, and he wasn’t paying attention to anything as he tried to understand where Widge was going with this. Definitely not smart on his part, he hadn’t been expecting so much water to crash onto his head, leaving him completely soaked. Widge yelped as some of the water fell on him as well.

“What the fuck,” Eris growled.

“My circles,” Widge whined, the water having ruined whatever he was writing. Eris hoped he remembered what it was, it had seemed interesting. He heard everyone’s laugh. From the deep rumble of Micah, to the obnoxious cackle of Lagos, to the loud howl of Rufus. It should have come as no shock that Rufus would try and pull a prank on Eris, no doubt with Lucien’s help. He was rather disappointed in himself for not keeping an eye on the two biggest troublemakers in all of Prythian.

Eris looked up at Rufus with a glare, he could see the steam in the air around him as he used some of his magic to dry off. “Honestly, Rufus,” Eris sneered, teeth bared.

“My mistake, didn’t see you sitting there.” He’d filled his fucking boot with water and thrown it at him.

Eris ran a hand through his still damp hair, “You’ve disappointed me.” Rufus just smiled, tugging once on Lucien’s braid.

“Lucien told me to do it,” Rufus was very good at playing the part of innocent victim. His auburn brows were raised, his russett eyes wide. “No I didn’t,” Lucien instantly stopped cackling, defending his honour. “Eris, he’s the disappointment, I’d never.”

“Little assholes,” Eris mumbled, shoving Lucien playfully. Lucien laughed again, dropping into the sand right beside him. Rufus sat by Lagos, winking at Eris before he sprawled on his back, Enya trotting over to lie down by his head.

Eris was glad for moments like this - when his father wasn’t in Autumn and he had the time to spend with the people he cared about. He knew it was a weakness, the fact that he cared about them, but he'd missed them all. Rufus was stuck at the war camp with his friends, Lucien was stuck in the Forest House, and Eris was stuck in his territory far away from them both.

Eris had been staying away from Lucien anyway, visiting less and less. It’d been months since he’d last seen the little runt, but Eris knew it was for the best.

“This was really nice, Eris,” Lucien said with a small smile, his face turned towards the sun. He looked happy.

Eris nodded once, closing his eyes and turning his own face towards the sun, “I thought it was really nice, too.”

Perhaps it was very foolish of Eris to be spending his valuable time frolicking on beaches, but all he wanted to do right now was pretend everything would be alright. Pushing all his worries aside, the sound of waves crashing along the shore, his toes curling into the white sand of the beach, Eris could almost forget he was the heir of the Autumn Court.

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mrsgiovanna · 4 years ago

Text

Unhinged - Don Giorno x Fem! Reader

A misunderstanding causes the reader a whole lot of distress. Blame it on the stress of planning your wedding to the Golden dreamboat or his shifty behavioral cues. Needless to say this occurs many years after the events of Vento Aureo. Some mild angst, some fluff, some mild nsfw- a mixed bag that nobody asked for really, unashamedly self indulgent 🥺💭💖

You always judged those unhinged girls. You know the type, the ones who would steal their partners phones and “run into them” at very convenient times. Pathetic, you’d always think, so you could not understand how, in heaven’s name, you found yourself sitting in your car across from your favorite Café, spying on your fiancé. You were thankful for the oversized sunglasses that hid most of your face as you stole a glance at yourself in the rear view mirror. You can’t imagine what your eyes might look like at this point.

It all started a week ago… Giorno was an extremely busy man, you of all people knew that best. He always made time for you though, however, the closer it got to your wedding, the less you saw of him. You were busy yourself, so you didn’t really have much time to yearn for his company, but the coldness of your bed was always a reminder that someone very important was supposed to be occupying that space. It wasn’t just the scarcity of your lover that had set off alarms in your mind, it was more his odd behavior. He was so secretive these days, keeping conversations shorter than they needed to be, hiding his devices from you when he received texts, discarding every scrap of paper from his pockets before properly greeting you when he did manage to come home in the daylight. Each time you questioned his behavior he just sweetly smiled and replied that everything was alright.

And so continued this mistimed waltz on eggshells until that fateful morning. A swirl of emotions bubbled up in your chest suffocating you when you found some kind of broken jewel clinging to Giorno’s suit. You couldn’t really make out what it might have been part of, or what lewd activities managed to dislodge it from its original owner and onto him, but for the first time in the years you have been together, you were suddenly unsure of whether you could spend your life with this man. Did you even know him at all?

The walls of the villa never felt so restrictive before, you needed to get out, clear your mind, perhaps even get another perspective. You could just be overreacting as you know you are inclined to do sometimes. Giorno was still in the shower, you contemplated letting him know that you were going out, but decided to just go. He can stew a little, get a taste of your personal hell for just a few hours. Hurriedly throwing on the outfit you laid out, you grab your keys and headed off to your favorite coffee shop, calling Trish while you were on your way there, asking her to meet you. The two of you had grown closer over the years and right now you needed a friend who would give you sound advice without sugarcoating the facts.

Giorno had sauntered out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, his upper body still glistening from the shower with his wet hair cascading down his back. He expected to find you there just doing your hair or putting on your mascara, he loved watching you get ready. It gave him a chance to fully admire you, making him feel proud, bordering on arrogant, that you were his and only he got to see all the different sides there were to your beauty. He knew he was being distant with you but he had his reasons for being so preoccupied. Walking towards the nightstand to check his phone, he sees the jacket he wore yesterday on the floor with the little jewel still hooked onto the fibers of the expensive fabric. Throwing his head back in resignation, he called Trish, already aware of what you might be thinking, and knowing that she’s usually the first person you’d turn to when you needed to chat.

“Hi Trish, do you have a second to chat? I’ll make it quick,” he starts off, putting the call on speaker so he can get dressed for the day.

“Giorno, what did you do? She already called me in a state, I’m on my way to meet her for coffee as we speak,”

“Okay look, I can explain everything, just know that I’m not being unfaithful,”

“How did this escalate so fast? Why are you giving her reasons to jump to these conclusions so close to the wedding? You better not be messing around,”

Giorno could hear the suspicion that edged Trish’s voice, so he explained everything and begged her to calm you down while he tended to a few issues.

You felt your shoulders relax as the tension melted away after pouring your heart out to Trish. After speaking to her it dawned on you that coming out and asking Giorno would be better than letting this outlandish scenario fester in your mind. After giving you the pep talk you needed Trish left to get on with her day while you stayed to organize yours. Sipping the last bit of your mocha Frappe, you darted towards your car when suddenly your attention was caught by a flash of gold and a flourish of a deep cerulean blue coat entering the Café. Certain that your eyes were playing tricks on you, you blinked a few times, but it was as clear as the blue sky above you, Giorno had arrived there with another woman. Hastily getting into your car, you sank into the soft leather seat and fished out your oversized Chanel sunglasses to conceal your presence as much as possible in the off chance he looked in your direction, although chances of that seemed very slim given how engrossed he was in their conversation.

Oh you hated every painful second of this, all the tension and anger that you’d let go of, found you all at once, marring your otherwise beautiful features.

You watched as he pulled out her chair and sat across from her, smiling that charming smile that could disarm a terrorist. He barely looked away from her, you wished he would see you, wondering what kind of explanation he’d conjure up. You contemplated going back inside to confront them, but you didn’t trust your emotions, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. You wouldn’t dare give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry… and so you watched, preparing yourself for what you may or may not see, however your resolve shattered when you saw Giorno pull out a little black box and slide it across the table towards her. She beamed as she opened it examining the contents without taking it out… was it a replacement for that trinket that you found? He always did have impeccable taste, you had always thought it was reserved for you though. Unable to watch any longer, you started the car and sped off, not wanting to go home, but having no motivation to go anywhere else, you just drove aimlessly for a while.

“Oh Mr Giovanna, these are perfect, they’re exactly what I needed to complete her bracelet, I’m sure your fiancé is going to love it!” exclaimed the lady sitting opposite your lover.

“Please, call me Giorno. I would hope so, it’s more sentimental than anything else, I’m just astounded that you were able to recreate the intricacies of the original design. Your talent knows no bounds,”

“Ah, like any artist, I’m always intrigued by beauty and mystery. How were you able to get a this many dainty gems at this short notice?”

“I have my network, I’m just glad you can complete it now, I can’t wait to give it to her,”

“Well you won’t have to wait too long, I should have this ready by the close of business today,”

“I won’t keep you any longer then, thanks once again for handling my request,” said Giorno with an extended hand as he stood up to leave.

It was a mission to try and recreate your mother’s heirloom bracelet from a faded, wrinkled picture, but he was determined to give you something special, that would make you feel closer to her as well. Your lineage was a mystery, your father unknown, so when your mother arrived in Italy it was one of the few valuables she had had on her person. She did everything she could to provide for you when you were little, but she unfortunately had succumbed to her circumstances leaving you to fend for yourself in an unforgiving world. His heart clenched when you recounted stories of your childhood, which somewhat mirrored his own. You never complained though, he could see your heart ached when you thought of her, and all the things she would have helped you with especially now. Still, the way you concealed your heartache with a trained smile, would always make him wonder how such strength could be contained by something so angelically beautiful. Drawn out of his reverie of you, Giorno had arrived at his destination and continued with his day until it was time to collect your present and head home.

By the time you had finally found yourself at your driveway, you were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to bury yourself in a cave and hibernate until everything was over. How arrogant of you to assume this would last when every good thing in your life came to an end. Dragging your wary body up the stairs, you buried yourself under the soft comforter, shutting your eyes with the hope that it would all have been a dream by the time you resurface.

When Giorno finally made it home, the first thing he did was seek you out. Usually you’d be quietly nestled on the couch reading or working on something, or you’d be tinkering in the kitchen making some sort of delicious treat, both as a means to relax and indulge your shared sweet tooth. But you couldn’t be found in either of those places. He found you huddled on the bed you both shared, looking so fragile as you slept in a fetal position. He didn’t want to disturb you but he couldn’t help gently brushing your hair off your face, which unfortunately resulted in you waking up.

“Gio, I didn’t expect you back this early…” you murmured, still waiting for your eyes to adjust to the light. The events of today came flooding back to you and you resolved to just come straight out and confront him. Noticing the change in your demeanor, Giorno sat next to you on the edge of the bed, while he loosened his top shirt button and took off his tie.

“Giogio, I don’t know how to put this delicately, so I’m just going to say it… you’ve been acting so different lately, always so secretive, hiding things from me, and this morning I found remnants of some jewelry that didn’t belong to me on your clothes… and probably the worst thing of all is that I saw you with someone while I was out this morning. You both looked very comfortable with each other, and… I… who is she?” you rambled on, your voice barely louder than a whisper. This wasn’t playing out how you had imagined it, with most of the fight being forced out of your body by melancholy. Seeing the evidence of your anguish in your eyes, Giorno reached out to cup your cheek, you mentally chastised yourself for automatically melting into his touch.

“Ah my sweet principessa, I love you, only you, I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you or break that trust. The lady you saw me with is a jewelry designer, I commissioned something very special for you, so we just met so I could give her the materials to complete it… I wanted to give it to later at dinner tonight, but you’re in no condition to go out, so let’s stay in, okay?” he explained as he pulled out a box from his breast pocket and settled down next to you. “Go on, open it,”

You gingerly take the box, opening it slowly, curiosity and embarrassment fighting against each other in your mind.

“Gio, how did you manage to find it after all these years? I thought it would have been melted down and broken up completely.”

You simply couldn’t believe your eyes, it broke your heart when you sold off the bracelet to pay off her debts after she passed, it killed your spirit entirely when you were told it wasn’t enough to cover what she’d owed. That’s how you found yourself in Passione, working as one of Bucciarati’s underlings.

“Well, unfortunately I couldn’t find the exact piece bella, trust me, I tried. You’re probably correct in saying that it was taken apart, so I had this recreated to its exact specifications. I hope you like it,”

Giorno’s voice was so tender, as was his expression. Tears clouded your vision, it was the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for you, you were at a complete loss for words.

“Gio… Tesoro, I don’t know what to say, thank you doesn’t seem like nearly enough. And I’m so sorry I ever doubted you, I feel like such an idiot, that’s probably because I am one. How can I make it up to you? I totally understand if you’re too upset to talk to…” your rambling was cut off by Giorno’s lips gently pressing against your own. His hand softly grasped the back of your head, slightly tilting your face upwards to deepen the kiss.

“That was thanks enough amore mio, I love you,”

“Ti amo con tutto il mio cuore,” you reply, while trying to hide your embarrassment by nestling your face in the crook of Giorno’s neck.

“Molto bene, your Italian is improving bella, I’m proud of you.”

Giorno snaps the sparkly trinket onto your wrist and admires how your eyes light up when you look at it. The glimmer of his eyes in the soft lighting of the room awakened a yearning within you. Giving in to the feeling, you kiss Giorno’s collarbone, earning a hum of approval from him, as you softly trailed kisses up his neck and onto his jaw, finally settling on his lips. You felt him smiling into the kiss, he ran his tongue across your bottom lip asking for entry, to which you willingly obliged as your hands toyed with his braid, undoing it completely. His hands ran up and down your body, worshipping the dips and curves he adored so much. Breaking away from the kiss for a moment, he looked down at you, eyes darkened with lust, hands hovering over the buttons of your shirt asking for permission to disrobe you, which you granted with a small nod. He was so gorgeous, so strong and he exuded such charisma that you found yourself submitting to his every request, spoken or otherwise, lapping up every bit of praise he afforded you as you took him in his entirety. Once, twice, you had lost count of how many times you both peaked.

At some point in the night you had woken up ensconced in the warm embrace of your sleeping lover, finally being able to form a coherent thought, you promised yourself to never baselessly doubt his love for you ever again. With that you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to fall asleep again, feeling completely safe, content and loved.

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