#from death and other epilogues

[stalkedbytrains]

A Child of Ravens

Beware the Kindness of Ravens

She knew she should only use the raven feathers when she absolutely needed them. To summon the raven child she’d help save to return the favor. It had only been a few months. But she was starving and freezing.

There were no other options left to her. The Barons of the Plains had been less kind to her than even the horse-lords. The people there didn’t treat her well, even though no one saw her black magic raven feathers.

And she dared not return to the lands she’d come from. She couldn’t be sure if anyone from the town the ravens destroyed would be left to remember her.

Now she’s in this city, in the depths of winter, with no food, no shoes, and no coat.

Her teeth were chattering too hard for her to find the necessary breath to blow the feather out of her shaking hands. She managed it somehow, or maybe she just dropped it and an errant breeze caught it.

A cold breeze that cut right through her ragged clothing.

She was miles away from the Ravenswood. The ravens always returned to that most ancient forest during the winter. She didn’t know if the raven child would hear her plea or even if they did if they could get here in time.

At some point she’d fallen asleep, and woken up to darkness and an oppressive feeling of heaviness all over her. This wasn’t how she’d ever expected freezing to death would feel like.

Then all at once the darkness and the weight lifted from her. And she found herself being carried by the raven child. They were in a place that wasn’t exactly warm but it wasn’t freezing either.

Oblivious to the fact that she was awake the raven child laid her down on the mossy ground, near a tree. Then they placed a dark, heavy, warm cloak over the girl and scrambled into the tree.

She was in the Ravenswood. The ancient forest home of the cursed black birds. The trees were tall and thick and some of them even had the tell tale black vines crawling all over them. She was even covered in a cloak made of ravens’ feathers. All of these were ill omens of the highest degree all pointing to the begged girl’s imminent demise. But she would have frozen to death and so far she was still alive.

Feeling warmer than she had in weeks, the girl fell asleep under a blanket of ravens’ feathers.

When she awoke it was hard to tell what time it was. For a moment she forgot where she was, other than she was feeling warm and safe and at home. So when she realized that she wasn’t at home, that her bed was of moss and feathers, that the scar across her neck was still there, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for herself. Something she had been putting off for well over a year.

But it was short lived. As a rustling in the trees drew her attention, as did the softly casing ravens.

She turned over to see a sleek black raven looking down at her from the lowest branch of a tree. And next to it a pale, thin child, no older than her, mimicking the bird’s movements.

She smiled and waved before she stood up, gently holding on to the ravens’ feather cloak. The beggar girl bowed once, to the raven child, and then again to the bird.

The raven child jumped down from the branch and took the cloak from her, fastening it across their thin neck with clasps that looked like they were made of bone. The girl pointed at the cloak and then gave the child an approving nod. “It looks good on you,” she said without words.

They smiled and spun around, showing it off. It was an impressive piece of clothing. Dark, short, barely coming to the child’s hips. Despite its small size, the cloak had be made of several hundred raven feathers.

Then, making sure the beggar girl was watching, they grabbed the corners, brought the cape up and then down once, hard, in an imitation of flapping wings. The child vanished in a small cloud of darkness and reappeared on the lowest tree branch.

The girl looked around for the child who caught her attention with a quiet caw. She looked up and clapped, delighted at the magic her companion possessed now.

However, the raven that was with them let out a dismissive caw and flew away.

The raven child descended from the tree, looking somewhat shamed and down cast.

The beggar girl noticed where the child disappeared from there was a single black feather on drifting slowly to the ground. She caught it and as her fingers touched it, the feather turned to ash and dissolved on a breeze her skin didn’t feel.

She realized that the raven child must have used a feather from their cloak for their magic. Instantly a hand went to her hair and pulled out one of the raven feathers she was gifted all those months ago. She tried to push the feather into the child’s hand, trying to give payment for the trick, but they wouldn’t take it.

The silence of the forest was interrupted by a loud rumbling from the poor girl’s stomach. She blushed, embarrassed at the bodily function, but the raven child grabbed her hand and lead her deeper into the forest.

They stopped in front of a large tangle of black vines, who superstition claimed grew only on the graves and homes of murderers and betrayers. The child pushed aside the leaves and pulled back a large, dark fruit roughly the size of an apple. He plucked it from the vine and handed it to the poor girl.

She looked at it, curiously. It wasn’t like anything she’d seen before. The raven child grabbed another fruit and began to peck at it, just like a bird would. With a tentative bite she found the fruit to be juicy, succulent even, and very very sweet. She ate it with gusto, and wound up devouring four more before she was full.

Again she bowed to the raven child, and tried to give back one of the feathers but they wouldn’t take it back.

The rest of the day consisted of the raven child showing off the Ravenswood to the beggar girl. The forest was vast, and surprisingly warm for the winter. They went to the edge of the forest and saw a raging blizzard happening beyond the walls of the ravens’ domain, but if snow fell on the tree tops, none fell to the forest floor. From there they wandered through the woods, occasionally taking to the trees, and in the raven child’s case jumping between them.

Eventually they found themselves at the very heart of the wood, where it was warmer than anywhere else, and the trees grew tall and thick, and the black vines made it all but impossible to move through.

They stopped on the edge of this area and the raven child pointed at it, then at the beggar girl, and shook his head. She was clearly not allowed in. She nodded solemnly, she understood and didn’t want to tread on the hospitality that saved her life.

But she had to ask.

A point to the raven child, a point to the heart of the forest, a tilt of the head.

“Are you allowed in?”

The raven child shook their head. They put their hand in the top of their head and then raised it straight up, before indicating their cloak and moving their hand down towards their knees.

“Maybe. When I’m older, stronger.”

She nodded.

Together the children made their way back to the small clearing she slept in before. She laid down in the soft moss once more and the raven child climbed a nearby tree. The wood had grown dark and quiet, more so than it was already.

With her rough and broken voice the beggar girl said, “My name is Melvana.”

There was a moment of silence before there was a response.

It was quiet, not like the usual loudness of ravens. It could almost be confused for a strange animal sound, but to the girl who had already communicated with the raven child so well without words it was clear.

“Avro.”

The blizzard lasted another three days, and as much as Melvana didn’t want to take from the ravens who saved her life, she didn’t fancy leaving the forest while the storm covered everything in sight under several feet of snow.

When the storm was over, she made an attempt to say goodbye to her friend and leave, but two ravens blocked her path.

They crawled loudly at her, until she stopped, and then Avro pulled her back into the forest. He pointed out towards the snow and mimed shivering and then closed his eyes and was still.

“You go out there and you’ll freeze to death.”

The ravens kept the girl in the forest until spring. No matter how mild the weather or little snow was on the ground, the birds were adamant that she stay.

It wasn’t a bad place to spend the winter. Although the constant diet of sweet fruit wasn’t something she’d miss. But the company of the raven child was something she desperately would miss come the warm weather.

They’d spend the short winter days climbing trees and chasing each other, visiting the nests of new born ravens which were absurdly fluffy and cute (in Melvana’s opinion) to grow into harbinger birds.

Over the course of the winter she grew into a formidable climber, nowhere near as good as Avro, who she suspected was cheating in their games of tag by using his magic cloak.

All the while they spent together they found communication fairly easy. Unlike with most people the beggar girl interacted with, the raven child understood her meanings quickly, almost instinctively. It was unfortunate that their communication was so simple, they couldn’t convey concepts that were reasonably complex or esoteric. She did try to teach Avro to read, but without actual schooling or books or even something to write on, it was a doomed task.

The spring finally came and it was time for not just Melvana to leave the Ravenswood, but also the ravens. Whatever duty called them to the places throughout the year was about the come due.

Avro was apprehensive in the days before they would leave the forest, never sitting still, leaping from branch to branch constantly, or even just nervously tapping a foot.

All of the ravens had convened in the heart of the forest, and Avro could only wait. They didn’t want to play or do anything that Melvana wanted to do to take their mind off of it.

They waited in tense silence.

All at once, every raven flew out of the heart of the Ravenswood. Two stopped in front of Avro. She recognized these ravens, and assumed they were something like a family to Avro, almost like parents or vastly older siblings.

There was a quick conversation in ravenspeak, that Melvana could tell the difference in words and tones if not the meaning.

Avro nodded and stood, taking Melvana’s hand as they walked to the edge of the forest, followed by the two ravens. Before they could left the sanctuary of the wood, Avro stopped. The raven child pointed at themselves and the ravens and then out to the desert that was looming out of sight to the west.

There was only one place that she wanted to go less than the desert and that was the land of her father, where she had lost everything and gained a scar. She shook her head.

“I don’t want to go there.”

Avro nodded and then pointed to her and then off to the northeast, towards the lands of the mountain kings. The raven child made a triangle with their hands and then broke it, indicating the outside of their hand with the other.

She was the go to the lands of the above the mountain kings.

Melvana nodded, and then quickly brought the raven child into a hug. She held on tightly, to her one and only friend. The raven child returned the hug with surprising strength for such a slight figure.

A raven cawed quietly, interrupting the moment. They were all going to be late if this kept up.

With many looks back to the two parted ways. One following a road north and east. One an overgrown horse track to the east, followed by ravens.

It would be years before they would see each other again.

my kofi

[misanthropicgardener]

NOOOO i never realized that the little icon at the bottom of the cover for the leaves is a journal i;’m going to be sick

[twilightofthesandwiches]

Man, this is such an interesting exchange, cause, like… in most stories, when a character says they'd like things to go on forever, that they want something eternal, they're pretty much setting themselves up for a very rude awakening. You know, nothing lasts forever, sometimes you have to learn how to let go, sometimes you need to move on. I mean, that's one of the core themes of Undertale.

Flowey/Asriel's whole motivation in the Pacifist Route is to make the Game go on forever, to put the ending eternally out of reach, to trap Frisk in an infinite time loop because he just can't move on from Chara's death.

Part of the narrative is that if the Player RESETs a Pacifist Route then they are no better than he was, since now they are also yanking everyone away from their Happy Ending so that we can play with them again, because we can't accept the game has Ended. The Murder Route is less focused on that whole theme but you replay it over and over again Chara will basically call you a weirdo for your obsessive clinginess to this world.

Part of Undertale's themes is the importance of an Ending to a story. A True Pacifist Player's true and final act of selflessness is to let go of their desire have things keep going for forever, to give up on Eternity… for the sake of the happiness of every other character in this world, for the sake of their Happy Ending.

On the other hand, as a Wise Dog once said…

Both Undertale and Deltarune love exploring the ways in which the world of a game is different or similar to the real world, how the perspective of a Player is so different from the perspective of an actual character living in this world and... Real Life doesn't have a clear set ending.

The Player is the only one from whom the story just ended. Everyone else just kept living their stories of friendship together, although they probably never experienced something as high-stakes as the events of 'Undertale' ever again. And... when endings do seem to come, they're not going to be as clear-cut and satisfying and clearly communicated as the Game Ending is to the Player.

…But on the other other hand, it is still true that some things in life do end and we do have to accept that. Like… you know, the most famous Ending in life… is Death.

Gerson hears Susie talk about how she wants things to go on forever, but he already decided he has no interest in Eternity himself. He knows that the Three Heroes are here to seal the Fountains that revived him, he knows that when they succeed he'd go back to being a dust-covered hammer, probably never to be revived again and… he's perfectly at peace with that. He's an old man who died from natural causes, he had a long, full and satisfying life, he already had his ending. What's happening now is some weird glorified epilogue, but he knows it will end soon. And that's fine by him, because the time for his story has ended.

He does have one major regret in life, his failure to properly support his son's writing, and he spends all of the time the Dark has given him to try and make up for it. But it's really just a matter of asking Susie to deliver his message. He doesn't try to maintain or expand the Dark World so he could make up for his mistakes or try to pull Alvin in so he could meet him again or find a way to come back to life in the Light World somehow… I wonder if Someone was expecting him to do something like that and that's why they tried to give him that Shadow Crystal, but we all know that didn't work

In a way… we've already seen Susie's rude awakening for her desire for a 'forever'. She formed such a powerful bond with "the Old Man", she definitely would've wanted their time together to last longer, to last as long as it could, to last forever. But that's not possible.

And even his appearance in the Third Sanctuary was kind of a surprise stroke of luck that shouldn't be taken for granted.

The whole point of the Second Sanctuary is that Susie realized that Gerson was dead in the Light World, and trying to cope with this idea, went straight to a kind of denial.

Well, she can just pop over to the Dark World and, like, ask him what the Door Code is, right? No big deal! I mean, it's not exactly like Susie and Kris were really at a dead-end, there were plenty of areas in the Church they haven't checked thoroughly at all (not just the Fire Extinguisher)…

It wasn't because she HAD to do it for the Door Code, it's because she had to do it to reassure herself that her new friend isn't really gone, that maybe he'll be there waiting for her in his study if she just High-Key Stab Reality and Unleash the Flow of Pure Darkness Energy…

But it wasn't that simple. At best you can say his appearance in the Third Sanctuary means that he can manifest in any Church Dark World created by the Knight… but seeing how Susie's whole goal at the moment is to stop the Knight from making more Dark Fountains, that's not exactly increasing her chances to see the Old Man again.

When they go to seal the Fountain, Susie muses about her 'stupid dream' that things will just… stay the same. That she'll keep having fun Dark World adventures with her friends through eternity. But she knows that although Kris fully understands her, that's not what's going to happen. It's both about how the stakes and seriousness of the story have been so overtly raised for her, the Knight and the Titans aren't just an ominous background detail. She has fought them both. But it's also because she is already experiencing an Ending right now. She knows that when Kris seals this Fountain, she will probably never see Gerson again.

…But despite all of that, I don't think the narrative completely rebuke Susie's desire for Eternity. After all, Gerson heard her say that, fully knowing his own fate, and he mostly seemed intrigued? It doesn't seem to waver his belief that she's the one who should be writing the story, that he could count on her to defy fate in the name of Justice. Y'know, Susie wasn't really thinking of the Inevitability of Death at that moment, she was just thinking that… she would like to keep having fun adventures with her friends in perpetuity. And is that such a bad thing to wish for?

I mean, just because something was a theme in Undertale doesn't mean that Deltarune can't use Susie to drive home the point of 'well, yeah, you're not wrong, but it's a bit more nuanced than that", there's precedence, in fact.

I'm thinking about, like, the Tenna storyline in Chapter 3. That was also about someone who needs to move on, Tenna is clinging to his happier past in unhealthy way and wants the fun of his game show to last forever. He also wanted his own version of Eternity. But the game still draws a contrast between Ralsei, who just tells him to remember the happy times and accept that everything ends, including his use

And Susie, who is the one who rejects this mindset. Her solution still has some level of moving on and accepting that the Dreemurr-Holiday Family Unit has ended, but that doesn't mean he's just got to lay down and accept that his whole life is over. She comes up with a plan that ensures the continuation of his life and his dreams. It's an Ending of sorts, but an Ending that has a continuation attached to it. And it came specifically from Susie's distaste for endings, from her aggressive rejection of going gently into that good night.

There are certain things, certain endings, we all have to accept, but there is also so much that is worth rebelling against, that is worth fighting for. Susie's desire for an 'Eternity' might be a bit oversimplistic, but it is also the source of her rebellious spirit, out-of-the-box-thinking and the shining hope that Gerson sees in her. So I don't think the story will dismiss it outright, we really just have to wait and see just how much of that 'Eternity' Susie will manage to keep...

[dramaticals]

DRAMIONE FIC RECS + WHY YOU SHOULD READ THEM — 100k+ words edition

hogwarts: a home by coralcollective — reimagined horcrux hunt. draco is so down bad for hermione and the smut is crazyyy. theo/hermione friendship. pansy is the breakout character and you'll love her. there's nsfw art and inappropriate use of the malfoy signet ring. please check the tags! (it says incomplete on ao3, but it's only missing epilogues so don't be afraid of starting it)

word count: 372,978

chapters: 67/70

the commoner's guide to bedding a royal by olivieblake — god, this fic!!!! it's a modern royal au and the ensemble of characters make this whole world feel so alive. it's inspired by will/kate and harry/meghan and it's sooo cute. theo and daphne were the breakout characters and i love them dearly. if you're looking for a lighthearted romcom-esque, occasionally angsty (because duh!) fic, this is it!!! i probably read this in two days which is insane considering the word count, but that should just tell you how lovely this whole fic was. there's a second part to this if you're itching for more afterwards (and it's just as good!)

word count: 503,570

chapters: 45/45

draco malfoy and the mortifying ordeal of being in love by isthisselfcare — honestly if you haven't read this yet..... this is god tier. a CLASSIC. this should be taught in the schools. hermione's a magical researcher / healer and draco's one of the best aurors out there. he's assigned to protect hermione because she's in the midst of a big discovery. hermione's not happy about it and draco isn't either. slow burn!! idiots in LOVE!! forced proximity!!!!! EMBEDDED ART!!! honestly this is the fic that made me want to learn how to bind which is so serious and if you haven't read this yet you need to.

word count: 199,548

chapters: 36/36

the disappearances of draco malfoy by speechwriter — this is my new canon. it's a deathly hallows rewrite where draco accepts dumbledore's offer to fake his death and go into hiding with the order. enemies to friends to lovers. i honestly can't even remember what happened in canon because this is IT for me.

word count: 289,780

chapters: 33/33

this world or any other series by olivieblake — includes clean (book one) and marked (book two). anything by olivieblake should be a must-read, i swear to god. this one starts as a year 6 slow burn. draco and hermione are assigned partners for potions and it all snowballs from there. olivie writes so beautifully and her characterizations for hermione / draco are so good. slight warning for marked: this destroyed me and i pretend it doesn't exist, but it's still a must-read.

word count: 118,892 & 178,268

chapters: 31/31 & 39/39

rights and wrongs series by lovesbitca8 — you want fluffy dramione? read the first two parts of the rights and wrongs series. you want dark and heavy dramione? read the auction, an alternate universe of the fluffy dramione, where voldemort wins and they all get auctioned off to death eaters. please check the tags for the voldy wins au! all three were chef's kiss and coming from someone who isn't a fan of dark aus, reading the first two helped me get through the auction because you know where draco's coming from / what's in his head. you can just read the auction without reading the first two parts unless you like catching parallels and having more depth / context (which i very much love).

word count: 174,911 & 160,297 & 325,876

chapters: 36/36 & 24/24 & 41/41

[stalkedbytrains]

A Child of Ravens

A Raven that Makes No Noise

The journey to the lands of the King Above the Mountain was going to be a long one, and it went by the ruined town where she first met the raven child.

The ground was still black with the curse laid down upon the town, mingling with the char and burn of the last townsperson’s attempt to use fire to counteract magical rot.

She walked along the now empty road. With the town dead there was no trade this way. Those going from the horse lords to the King Above the Mountain didn’t use these roads. So Melvana walked alone.

She slept in the empty fields beside the road and foraged what little food she could.

Occasionally she’d spy a black bird overheard, and sometimes a raven would descend to check on the beggar girl. Whenever a raven visited her she’d offer some berries she’d manage to collect.

She was always nice to ravens.

The birds became less frequent as she got closer to civilization. Melvana didn’t blame the birds, most people would throw sticks or rocks at them.

As she got closer to the mountain she was able to catch or sneak rides with farmers or other passers by.

Once there were more people it was easier to beg. She was able to get better or more consistent food.

However it seemed that the King Above the Mountain had made begging illegal and imposed harsh punishments on anyone unlucky enough to be caught. Or so a kindly old man who had given the dirty orphan child a ride through the foothills told her.

It was in the great mountain cities that Melvana had to learn to steal. And she found herself very adept at it. But even more so at climbing buildings and entering places she wasn’t supposed to be.

Few people locked their third or even fourth floor windows as securely as they did with the ground floor.

More than a few times Melvana had to climb buildings to outrun or lose pursuing guards who were ordered to cut off the hands of all beggars.

She survived the winter atop the mountain by hiding in the empty, narrow room inside the steeple of a cathedral bell tower. And by stealing enough coin or clothing to keep warm.

By all accounts it was a bad winter. Bitter cold with very little snow. Climbing the stone buildings had proved difficult if not outright impossible in the weather that lasted much longer on the mountain than it did on the ground.

Then there were the ravens. Usually they all retreated to the safety of the Ravenswood during the cold months. But this year there were at least a dozen birds lingering around the town. Perhaps they were trapped by the weather and couldn’t fly all the way back. Or perhaps they were waiting for something.

Either way Melvana offered them all sanctuary in her little room atop the bell tower. It was cramped but warm. She begged and stole what she could and bought what she couldn’t. Food and water for herself and the ravens. Extra blankets and clothes to line the walls of her room to keep the cold out.

She had even lucked into finding a book about sign language, a complicated language that used her hands and arms to convey meaning since her voice couldn’t.

Spring came and so did another year. The ravens departed, whatever they were waiting in did not come to pass. Melvana said her goodbyes with her hands and asked the ravens (who had read over her shoulder) to bring the book to Avro so they could talk with their hands too.

For a moment she was afraid the book would be too big for the birds to carry, but one raven landed on top of the book, spread its wings over it, and then it was gone.

Soon after the birds took flight, leaving behind another set of feathers for the girl.

Now she had seven feathers.

The summer proved to be much better. She was able to secure a job with a printing press and worked there several days a week. The pay was very bad, even by begging standards, but Melvana was given a single hot meal everyday and the use of a bath to remove the various ink stains from her skin.

But more than the guaranteed meal and regular baths, she was able to borrow lots of different kinds of books. She was never a fast reader, but now she was devouring every book she could get her hands on. The press she worked at was not so large that there was a large variety but there was enough different things for her to learn some interesting history and live vicariously through words on a page. Often the books she stole were misprints, or things with awkward typeface or crumbling bindings, but she loved them all the same.

And so it became her new habit that when she’d break into homes to steal clothing or coin, she’d always take some time to look through their bookshelves to see if they had any interesting looking books or volumes that she was missing in her favorite series about the princesses that rescued themselves or each other.

Throughout the summer and fall, Melvana entertained ravens in her little hideaway. She made sure they were always welcome and made sure to have food and water for whenever she had guests.

They were always a little distant, mostly because she couldn’t understand the language of birds despite her best efforts. But she asked about Avro and the individual birds she had gotten very good at recognizing. Once a bird would leave it would almost always gift her another feather.

By the time winter rolled in across the mountain top, Melvana had more feathers than she knew what to do with. And there seemed to be a consensus among the ravens that she be allowed to learn their magics.

It was a long process, since magic itself was difficult and learning through gesture was even more challenging. However, by the end of the winter she had become good enough at manipulating shadows along the wall (making them solid was something that was a bit too hard for her to do consistently), and if there was an emergency, Melvana had learned how to use up two or three feathers to cushion a fall from a great height.

The only trouble was that the more magic she did, shadow puppets on the wall notwithstanding, the darker her fingers got. Like the tips of them had been stained with ink. Not that she minded, her hands were always stained with ink, and the magic she could do was worth this small cost.

When it came to spring and once again the ravens went back to the Ravenswood she found herself in possession of a large number of ravens’ feathers. She now had 15. And whatever the ravens had been waiting for still hadn’t come to pass. She did make sure to give the ravens the gift she’d stolen for Avro: a wooden bird mask. It was pure white and very detailed, and was easily the most expensive thing she’d dared to steal. But she thought her raven child friend would appreciate it.

Another year started and for the first time she realized how much taller she was getting. By her count she was almost twelve, almost a teenager, almost an adult, almost a woman.

One day, near midsummer, she overheard her boss talking with another man. Her boss was short and thin and had a terrible mustache that didn’t suit his square face. The other gentleman was tall and well built. They were whispering about something important and secret, since the taller man didn’t want to speak around other people, meaning Melvana.

She didn’t mind, the only things adults talked about were who was fighting who, what important figure died among a conspiracy of ravens, is the King Under the Mountain actually threatening the King Above the Mountain, was there really such a thing as the Regency Killer, boring things.

“Sel, don’t worry about the girl. She’s dumb. Probably doesn’t even know what you’re saying. She agreed to work for bread and a bath, she actually makes me money to have her come in,” her boss said.

She really hated it when people called her dumb. By no means was she stupid and she could talk but it hurt to do so and she didn’t like her voice. So she wasn’t mute. This is why she didn’t feel bad stealing from her boss. And Melvana made a note to find something valuable tonight before she left to steal.

The taller man didn’t say anything, he scrutinized Melvana for a moment before saying, “I need six more books.”

“Which edition?”

“Second.”

“Standard layout?”

“No, with the errata.”

“It’ll cost you.”

“And I need it before tomorrow.”

“It’ll cost you extra.”

“Double the usual fee now, double upon completion.”

Her boss grinned widely, “I’ll have it done.”

For the rest of the unnecessarily long day, Melvana was tasked with taking one of the presses apart, resetting the entire thing to print a textbook “The Domains of the Mountain Kings” in an edition that had been out of print for several years. If she remembered correctly, she’d just printed a whole slew of fifth editions for this particular text a few months ago.

Her hands were sore and covered in ink before she was done, well after sunset. But the pages were printed and being given to one of the poorer binders. Claud was a nice enough kid, but he had a habit of breaking spines and misapplying glue so that covers peeled and broke. Melvana was never sure why he was still employed since he was so bad at his job, but she had finished her task. 10 textbooks had been printed, which felt like an absurdly small amount to reset an entire press for.

She collected her food and took a quick bath in the small secondary bathroom off the owner’s house next door. She wanted to be clean as to not leave any evidence when she came back after closing to swipe some books.

After several hours of waiting on a nearby rooftop, the press finally closed and her terrible boss locked up and walked back to his house. She waited until the lights inside the house went out and then she waited a little more.

Part of her thought she should have gone back to the bell tower to get more raven feathers, she only had three of them on her, but it wasn’t anything dangerous and she’d done this dozens of times before.

But tonight she was tempted to sneak into the boss’ house and take from him personally. He would have the good books, and nothing they printed lately had been any good.

Once she was sure that her boss was asleep, Melvana descended from the rooftop and crossed the street. Tonight, she decided, she would steal from her boss.

Her boss was well off, not as rich as some in this city but more than most in this district, so his house was four stories, but rather thin. She’d have to climb up to the third or fourth story.

The climb, as it always was these days, was easy for her. She made it up to the third floor, but through the glass she saw this was her boss’ sleeping quarters. One more floor up then.

Here the window wasn’t even locked, in fact it was still open. The late summer breeze was cool, and she didn’t blame her boss for this even as she laughed to herself about how easy this was.

Inside the house was dark, quiet, cool. Melvana’s favorite kind of house. She stayed absolutely still as she listened to the house, to the way it settled and breathed. She learned how to move in a sleeping house, to move on the exhales, be patient and take her time.

The fourth floor was not much of anything, storage space for out of season and excess things. One day she’d love to have excess anything. The only thing Melvana had in abundance was ravens’ feathers.

She moved to the stairs going down and waited and listened. Here she moved more carefully. This floor was where people slept, and it would be where she would be most vulnerable to the sudden awakening of any people. Luckily there was a door blocking the sleeping room and the stairs. She quietly descended to the second floor. This was a study of some sort. There was a fancy desk, book shelves all over the walls. She’d come back to this floor.

The first floor was the immediate prize, the kitchen. Here she helped herself liberally to her boss’ food. She ate fancy bread and cheese, the rich kind of cheese that smelled funny by spread excellently on the fresh bread. And she had an even rarer treat: some dried meats. Meat was something she could so rarely afford, so she filled her pockets with as much as she could for later.

Once she ate her fill, which was quite a lot, she moved back to the study and the walls of books. Unfortunately her boss’ books were things she realized were called Literature, with the capital and all the pretension that came with it. He didn’t have any of the fantasy stories she loved so much. Most of the books were largely about middle aged men and their affairs, or sad people being sad. She had enough sadness and stress in her life without her reading adding to it. Although in a small alcove, nestled away was a small collection of books labeled “erotic” which Melvana knew meant sex so she ignored those too.

Overall she was extremely disappointed in the books here. She did take the three volumes of The Quicksilver Knight. Mostly because the cover was fancy with silver leaf and fine black leather. If it wasn’t an interesting book she could probably sell it.

Maybe he had better books where he slept.

It wasn’t a thought she liked to have. To rob a man in the room where he slept was risky. Doubly so since her boss didn’t have any liquor or those drugs in the small bottles that make one sleep through death itself. People who drink or take those drugs sleep soundly and completely.

But still, one set of books that she didn’t even know if she’d like. And no coin.

Her want for better books won out, and she crept back upstairs. Melvana was nothing if not careful. She waited outside the bedroom door for ten minutes, just listening. She deposited her loot, the meat and the books, outside the door. If she dropped it or the bag knocked something off a shelf or even if her boss smelled the meat she would be caught. Best to leave it here and abandon it if necessary.

She waited until she heard the man asleep inside exhale and opened the door. A pause, wait for the next exhale and moved swiftly inside. The door was well made, expensive, so it didn’t squeak. Squeaky doors made it hard to steal things. If Melvana ever got a house all of her doors would squeak.

It was dark in the man’s sleeping room, the air dark and close.

She stood silently, waiting for her eyes to start picking out details. There were no books here, and for that she was severely disappointed.

There was barely anything of interest.

She looked around the room, not moving away from the door. Then she spied it: a lock-box. A dark wood box about the size of her head. There was a big shiny lock on it. There was something good in there, she knew it. But the lock would be a problem. It rested on a small desk next to the bed, by a stack of the books that she had printed earlier that day.

Curious she crept over to the books and grabbed one. Sure enough despite being brand new they looked like they were already worn and used because of Claud.

Melvana took one book and the lockbox. At the very least the book would annoy her boss if not provide any interesting reading. If she could get the box open, hopefully she’d have plenty of coin to spend on new clothes and shoes. She was starting to grow out of all of them. And if this stupid bleeding thing kept up she wouldn’t have anything not covered in blood.

Moving only on the exhale, Melvana crept back to the door and out. She grabbed her bag of goods, stashed the book, and silently made her way back upstairs.

Once she got near the open window she decided to try the box, but it was locked securely. On a lark she reached into her hair and pulled out one of the raven feathers she hid there. She pressed it into the lock and it popped open as if she had put in the key.

Delighted, even at the cost of one of her feathers, she opened the box only to find an elegant copy of the book she just stole. This one was nicely leather bound, the binding was done correctly, it was a perfect book. But why lock this one up?

Now Melvana just felt annoyed. She thrust the book into her too light loot bag and climbed back out the window.

For anyone else carrying a bag full of five books and a pound of dried meat while scaling down a four story building would be difficult, for Melvana it was no trouble.

She made it to the street with little effort, took her time to make sure no one was around or watching her before she stepped out and made her way to her home.

Someone melted out of the shadows, a tall man dressed head to toe in dark leather. He looked like a shadow. How she didn’t see him, Melvana didn’t know, but this was the type of man that she would turn and run from.

She didn’t run, but she did turn on her heel and started walking away as quickly as possible.

The man looked at her, then at her bag, and as she turned away he reached out for her.

He just barely managed to grab the bag and pull Melvana to a halt.

“Have you been thieving?” He asked in a gruff voice.

Instead of stopping she turned around and ran towards the man that grabbed her bag. She ran right passed him once again going in the opposite direction. The sudden change in tactic caught him off guard and she slipped through his fingers.

Every other time she had been pursued it was by guards or angry victims. This was something else, this man was something else.

She did what she always did and climbed the nearest building. This one was a short three story house. Melvana clamored up, not worried about being quiet only concerned with speed. She was fast, but this man wasn’t slow. She managed to crest the roof with him barely an arms length away.

Not waiting she ran across the roof and jumped to the next building, a tall five story shop and house combination. Her strong fingers bit into the stone as she hit the wall and once again she was climbing. The bag with all her loot hanging away awkwardly at her thighs.

Still the man followed her. He was almost as good at climbing as she was.

He chased her across rooftops and unlike every other adult she’d ever run from, he didn’t tired out after a few blocks, nor was he deferred by the climbing.

He matched her step by step.

Until she came to a roof on the edge of a major road. Somehow she’d gotten turned around, forgot where she was running. The next roof, the next building was easily 40 feet away. She couldn’t make it, and with the man behind her she couldn’t make it to any other roof.

They stood on the roof together, breathing heavy.

“Oh you’re good kid, a real natural. Didn’t even see you in the house,” the man said between deep breaths. “And you can climb like a damn monkey. But I need the book you stole.”

Melvana shook her head. I don’t have a book.

“Yes you do. It’s the most valuable thing in that place, of course you have it. Give it to me and you’ll leave this rooftop alive.”

She reached up into her hair and pulled out the last two raven feathers she had, held on in each hand. This wasn’t something she had ever practice or done. But she’d seen Avro do it a number of times during her time in the Ravenswood.

She turned and ran, right off the edge of the roof. She made it maybe ten feet when she flapped her arms, holding on tight to the feathers. Wings, she needed wings. Or enough air to make it to the next building.

For a second, in the glorious dark of the moon, she swore she had wings. Beautiful, dark raven wings that beat once in time with her arms.

She slammed into the side of the building, the wind knocked from her chest, but her fingers held tight. After she filled her lungs with breath, she climbed up onto the roof. The man was still across the street. He was watching her, and she couldn’t tell what his expression was. So she didn’t waste any time and jumped to the next roof and ran away as fast as she could.

Melvana ran to the far end of the city and then slowly made her way back towards the bell tower she slept in.

This climb was difficult. The adrenaline had left her blood and her limbs were tired. But she made it.

There was only one raven tonight, who cawed in a tone that she recognized as concerned.

With her hands she greeted the bird.

Hello William.

Another caw, more concern.

Out stealing. A man caught me, chased me.

Caw, alarm.

He couldn’t follow me, I used feathers.

Silence this time.

He wasn’t a guard or a city man. He was something different. Another thief maybe. It might not be safe here. You should leave soon. Tell the others coming back here might be dangerous.

Another caw, concern again.

I need to sleep first. Then I’ll go in the morning.

The raven ruffled its feathers and jumped to her shoulder where it poked her gently on the side of the head. Which she knew to mean, “use your head more.”

I will.

The bird took off into the night air and Melvana collapsed into sleep.

The dawn bell woke her roughly, pulled from a deep sleep that had left her disoriented and dry mouthed when she was ripped from sleep. She couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of rest. But still it was dawn and she was getting a late start. By the time she packed up everything to leave the only home she ever knew it might be obvious that a girl was climbing out of the bell tower.

The most important thing to get was her collection of raven feathers. She gathered the few that were left, 9 not counting the two she got from Avro. Then she grabbed her favorite books, which were unfortunately heavy. Then she put on all of the clothing she owned. These were too important, too expensive to ever leave.

It was going to be uncomfortably warm in all these layers but she had no other choice: she had to leave town.

“Fuck you’re hard to find,” said a voice from the other side of the small room.

Melvana didn’t even look, she grabbed her bag of books and jumped. The raven feathers in her hand crumbled to ash as she cushioned her seventy foot fall to the ground. The second her feet gently touched the stone paths outside the cathedral she was running as fast as she could.

But something stopped her. The world went dark, she couldn’t see anything and she smelled something sickly sweet. Like overripe fruit bordering on rot.

Then she knew nothing.

my kofi with all my stories

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

72 / 2.6k / final part of shapeshifter familiars!141 tormenting witch!reader

nsfw; dubcon, group sex, toxic polyamory, predator/prey dynamics, degradation, manhandling, sex while on substances, kidnapping. also monsterfucking and sex pollen if you squint.

mentions of violence, dismemberment, and death (to minor characters) in the epilogue.

...

You pull at the restraints around your wrists to no avail. Your rational brain moves your lips over fragments of incantations, searching for one that will bring them back under your control. You've lost your home and the few precious possessions you had tonight. You must have control. If you don't, you have nothing left. But your animal brain wants more. Wants to fuck until your legs collapse.

Ghost's rough hands drag your hips to the altar’s edge. The stone leeches warmth from your back as Price's shadow eclipses yours. His belt hits the ground with a heavy thud.

He steps between your legs and traces the hollow of your knee with his battle-scarred knuckles. His other hand drifts higher. He presses your clit with his thumb and begins circling it with unhurried precision. Your hips writhe despite yourself. Price smiles. "That's it. Use us. Feed us. Make us serve you."

That’s not what this feels like. Consumed by agonizing need, you try to press your hips further into his thumb. Your empty pussy throbs. It wants him inside.

Price grabs your thigh. "Open"

It's not a request. When you don't do as he says, he drags his hand higher and grips a handful of your inner thigh.

"Wider."

Then his cock presses against you. Breaches you. Your back arches off the forest floor as he slowly sheathes himself to the hilt. The second thrust steals your breath.

"Feed," he growls. “Make her come apart.”

Gaz's mouth seals over your nipple. Ghost's calloused fingers press against your lips. Soap runs his tongue up your neck and behind your ear, lapping up sweat. Their arcane aura drapes over you like a burial shroud. Suffocates you. Binds you tighter. No, not just them--something older and heavier that clings to these ruins.

"Come," Price murmurs. "Bare your weakness."

The henbane's fever grips your spine. You climax with a shattered cry, vision whiting out as he fucks you through it. He fucks like he fights: efficient, precise, no movement wasted. Then he pulls out abruptly, leaving you clenching around nothing. He flips you onto your knees and elbows. "Again," he orders. "Arch."

He pushes into you from behind. You curve back into it, distantly aware of the gluttonous stares and catcalls your obvious need elicits from the others. You come again. Violently. Shamefully. Price's pace quickens.

"Again," he growls.

...

They take turns fucking you all night.

The empty eyes of the chapel's dead saints bear witness. Until the friction exhausts you, until the spiritual well from which you draw to cast and summon runs well and truly dry. Until your body is nothing but a hollow vessel, empty to your very pores, and that arcane shroud settled over you begins to seep under your skin. It molds to your raw need and fills you anew as if you’ve been offered as a sacrifice and then reborn in some ancient cult’s ceremony. It binds to you. Climbing vines and clusters of midnight purple hellebore blooms begin flowering to life, pushing through the ruined tile at the base of the altar.

Gaz’s fingers tangle in your hair to keep your head pulled back. The altar's marble digs into your knees. Then Soap is on his back beneath you, grinning as he guides your hips onto his cock. He rubs torturous circles into your clit as he fucks up into you. Then Ghost bends you over the altar and sinks his teeth into your shoulder as he takes you there, hard; the straining of the shackles rubs your wrists raw until Ghost tires of your pained huffs and rips the chains away from the walls altogether.

He grips the chains dangling from your still-shackled wrists with one hand and weaves the other into your hair. He cranes your head back to make you see Price observing it all from the pews.

"That's it, darling," Gaz purrs to you as Ghost's thrusts stutter, his cock pulsing. "Take every drop. Saints know you've earned it."

He drags you upright by your shackled wrists once Ghost finishes, and he presses your back to his chest. His fingers trace the sigil behind your ear--their claim as much as yours--as he pushes up into you from below.

Once Gaz finishes inside you again--you've lost count of how many loads you’ve taken--Price rises from the pews. He rests your trembling legs over his shoulders, your back flat against marble. His cock splits you deeper than before. He drives into you further and further until your exhausted voice cracks with another moan.

"Come," he growls.

"I can’t," you groan out. You're too exhausted to give him what he wants. "Nothing left."

Price's thrusts slow but don't stop. His hand wraps around your throat not to squeeze, but to feel the vibration of your strained whimpers. "Can't?" He leans down. "You bound demons to your body and starved them, witch. You don't get to abandon our covenant." His hips snap forward. He sheathes himself to the hilt again. Your walls flutter weakly around him. "You leashed our lives to yours. You asked for our protection. This" --he drags his thumb across your eyelid and through your wet lashes-- "is the mercy of that choice." Then he presses his palm on your sternum and splays his fingers wide between your breasts as if to capture your heart. "This belongs to us."

The others gather to watch. Ghost's fingers dig into your arms and holds them over your head as Price fucks you past the point of oversensitivity into a dazed, shuddering haze. When he finally spills inside you, he snarls your name like a curse against your throat. Soap weaves a hand into your hair and tilts your head forward to make you watch Price pull his cock out of you. It glistens with your excessive arousal.

Price rests his forearms against the marble on either side of you. He leans his forehead against your trembling stomach, takes a deep breath in, and lets it out with a rumble.

"Next time you run," he murmurs against your navel, "wear bells. We like to chase you."

Soap tosses a ratty fur over your shivering body. His calloused palm lingers on your thigh. Ghost's claw traces the shackle marks on your wrist. Then he tugs the fur higher to cover your breasts. Gaz chuckles at your utter collapse. "Imagine how tired she'll be when we assess her more comprehensively." 

Dawn bleeds through shattered stained glass. You've never felt such exhaustion in your life--physically, mentally, spiritually. Yet you drift off without fear. Your body is light and your mind is unencumbered by habitual worry. You fall asleep in moments, scarcely noticing what they're saying as they begin to discuss what to do with you.

Price buttons his coat. His gaze lingers on the vines strangling the altar--latent magic channeled through your worn body. What once clung to the walls now resides in you, whether you know it or not.

Price watches your chest rise and fall shallowly under the moth-eaten pelt. "We've made our point," he says. "Now let's discuss the lesson."

Soap drapes himself over the back of the frontmost pew with the ease of a supremely sated man. "Lesson's simple, Cap. Witch learned her place."

"Which is?"

"Beneath us. Always."

Price's thumb brushes your swollen lip. "Wrong." He stands and pulls a knife from his belt. "Her place is alive. Protected. Fruitful." The blade flashes as he cuts a lock of your hair. "You lot forget--she's not livestock. She's our wellspring."

Ghost rumbles. "She poisoned us."

"And we’ve punished her for it." Price tucks the hair into his pocket and tosses the knife aside. "But we don't ruin the well because we're thirsty. We renew it."

Ghost harrumphs. "She'll need a new nest," he mutters. He picks up the knife and begins honing it on the altar's edge. "Somewhere defensible."

"Aye, with thicker walls. And a bigger bed." Soap’s grin flashes red in the sunrise. "More efficient that way."

Gaz crouches beside you and examines the leaves unfurling near the crown of your head. "Won't matter. She'll bolt again. We need to break her proper next time. Chain her to the bed. Fuck the fight out day and night."

Vines curl up the altar near your feet. New buds swell rosy black in the dawn light.

Price plucks one and examines it. "Not so. Restrain the magic, not the witch, and she'll learn to crave the leash." Price crushes the small bloom in his palm. "Gaz, carry her. Ghost, scorch the trail. Soap--stop grinning and scout ahead. North."

"North, sir?"

"Old fort past the marshes. Walls steeped in old blood. The land's... sympathetic to us.” Price lifts you. Your head lolls against his shoulder. Your breath catches--a trapped sound, even in sleep.

Gaz inhales deeply. New arousal. "She's dreaming of us."

"Course she is." Soap licks the corner of his mouth like he wants to lick your cunt up and down again instead. "Gettin' used to her new life already."

…

You never return to the rubble where your house once stood. The villagers never see you again. But they hear whispers--fearful talk of a devil in the tempting shape of a woman, a nymph who weaves through the shadows of the deep woods, rarely seen. They tell tales of the curse that follows any man who watches her too closely and falls victim to her thrall--the way they disappear, swallowed whole by the forest. They tell tales of the beasts who haunt those woods. Crows. Hounds. Wildcats. Screech owls. Black hares.

Mothers hush their children with tales of the witch who walks with wolves, her shadow stretching long even at noon. Men whisper in taverns, ale sloshing as they lean close. Saw her by the blackthorn grove, skin glowing like a will-o'-the-wisp. Followed her 'til the crows' laughter drove me mad.

You tell those who draw close enough not to follow you. You tell them to turn back and leave those cursed woods. But the men stubborn enough to pursue a witch are men too stubborn to listen. They think they can save you.

So you don't hide. 

You let them glimpse you bathing in moonlit streams, your scars silvered by starlight. You let them hear your voice carried on the wind--come closer and lose your life, fool--as you braid hemlock into your hair. They never listen.

Ghost takes the first hunter. Drags him screaming into the bracken, bones crunching like kindling.

Soap claims the priest--peels him apart verse by verse, psalmbook pages stuffed down his throat.

Gaz plays with the lord's son for three days. He returns the boy's signet ring to his father's doorstep, severed finger inside still warm.

Price surveys the forest from your fortress’s highest tower. You stand still against his chest. His hands map the web of delicate silver chains that drape your bare hips. "They'll never stop coming," he tells you. His voice is low, soft, and callously teasing. "Not with the lure of such noble suffering."

The old fort's bones stand like teeth. Ivy blooms black under the moonlight and chokes its crumbling walls. You've learned its corridors--the way damp stone whispers of sieges long past, the drafty chambers where moss devours tapestries, the courtyard where Ghost weeds and burns your strange flora every new moon, lest it choke the forest’s natural growth.

They let you wander the battlements. Not alone, of course. Gaz shadows you as a lynx, dark eyes tracking your every step. Soap perches in crow form on the rusted portcullis, cawing taunts when you linger too near your prison’s gate. At night, Price presses your palm to the fort’s cold stones and makes you feel the old blood in its mortar--the violence sewn into its foundations, hungry for fresh sacrifice.

Your chambers smell of sex, henbane, and hellebore. The bed is a nest of furs and ancient grimoire pages. You kneel to relight the hearth and copper incense burner with a snap of your fingers. Soon enough, one of your familiars will collapse into your bed, boots propped up on your pillow to watch you until he’s ready to drag you into the furs and take you again.

Shackles hang from the canopy. They’re decorative now. Your familiars don't require them to keep you here. This--the bond, the feral devotion and the promises that underscore it--is stronger than iron.

Ghost fucks you against the armory wall, your legs hooked over his hips as he rams into you. He growls deep and low--no longer the tense, violent snarl of a starving beast, but a sound of possessive self-satisfaction. 

Soap takes you on the battlements, your hands bound with his belt as he bends you over the parapet. "Scream loud, rabbit. Let the woods hear who owns you."

Gaz's favorite game is the chase. He chases you through the halls and to the very threshold of the fortress, portcullis raised just enough to taunt you with room to escape, before dragging you back inside by the ankle, your scant robes dowsed with mud. "Almost had it that time, love. Maybe next century."

Price is different. He fucks you slowly in the war room, maps scattering as he bends you over the strategy table. His fingers lace with yours, pinning your hands as he whispers the same words you once used to bind them when you were still a trembling novice with a dagger to his throat.

The longer you stay, the more ivy drapes the crumbling stone. Your magic pulses in the walls. Ghost and Price watch you.

"She's getting stronger," Ghost says.

Price lights his pipe. "Aye. Best pray she stays tame."

Later, he watches you press your palm to the fort's oldest wall. The stones hum. Winter roses--false roses, lovely and toxic--turn their petals up to listen.

Price watches. "Still trying to domesticate us? Or survive us?"

You hum. The brambles curl toward his voice. "Same thing."

Carcasses of would-be heroes decorate the gates. Hellebore blooms from their eye sockets in warning. One midsummer night, a knight arrives. The holy symbols etched into his armor and sword are the same ones worn by the stone saints in that abandoned church where you once fled in a vain bid for sanctuary. That well of magic inside you recognizes the ancient blessing singing in his blood. He could help you. You could warn him, you realize as you meet him at the tree line. But you don't.

"Demon bride," he spits, blade raised. "The only freedom left for you is death."

Gaz's wildcat form takes him at the knees. Soap's raven plucks out an eye. Ghost's hound teeth rip out his Achilles tendon.

Price lets the man live.

You kneel beside his twitching body. You tilt his chin up with a bloodied hand. "Rest."

Hemlock sprouts between his teeth. The vines drag him underground. Your familiars watch from the shadows with dissatisfaction gleaming in their eyes.

Soap scoffs. "Again? Boring. You never keep our gifts."

You rise and absently wipe your bloody fingertips off on your robes. "Next time."

You return to your bedchambers. The furs on your bed pile higher and higher, soft and inviting. The shackles gather dust.

You dream of running.

You always wake up caged.

...

end <3

...

← part 4 / [part 5]

more Price / more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / masterlist

[kirain]

I want to take a moment to talk about Gale's "obsession" with Mystra, because I've had that thrown at me a lot when discussing his character with players who hate him.

First off, I'd like to emphasize a point that many people already know: Mystra groomed him. Though his exact age when she "slept" with him isn't known, a new document that's been supplied in the epilogue confirms he was merely "eight summers" old when she took him under her wing and sent Elminster to find him. Mystra, in fact, has a vast history of grooming little boys, to the point that many parents hide their sons from her gaze if they show an early aptitude for magic. Though Gale did have other lovers before her, Mystra was really all he knew throughout his childhood, and the power dynamic was not equal. It makes sense that he'd have trouble pulling away from her at first, especially since she convinced him that she/the Weave were his only value in life.

Second, I want to discuss something most players probably aren't aware of. In D&D lore, there's a place called the City of Judgement. This is essentially D&D limbo, where all mortal souls go to be judged after death. Bad news for atheists, if you don't believe in or worship any gods, you're known as a "faithless", and since no gods will grant a faithless entry into their domain, your soul becomes part of the Wall of the Faithless.

In short, a faithless' soul will be sucked into the wall, where it will guard the city and suffer endless torment for all eternity. This fate isn't only reserved for faithless, however; it's also a punishment for fallen Chosen or anyone who's been abandoned by their gods. Like Gale. He's absolutely terrified, and he tells you as much if you romance him. If you keep things platonic, he alludes to it during the "go to hell" scene. This is compounded by the fact that raiding demons sometimes attack the City of Judgement, tear souls from the wall, and drag them to the Abyss, where they're used to spawn new low-level demons or to feed their masters. There's no good ending, whether a soul remains trapped in the wall or not.

Gale doesn't explicitly say it, but he's contemplating his own death here, as he probably did the entire time he was locked away in his tower. This is why he's so quick to agree to kill himself for Mystra's forgiveness. It's not because he's "obsessed" with her or because he wants her back, it's because he'll literally go to hell if he can't convince her he's worthy of her twisted sense of forgiveness. By the time we meet Gale, he's honestly over Mystra in all romantic sense, and even more so by Act 2, whether you romance him or not. He's simply...

[meowdei]

KINGSLAYER — FT. MYDEIMOS

your father always believed in the god-like warrior that is the kremnoan prince. with war on the horizon, you honor his wishes and take lord mydei’s hand in marriage to unite your kingdoms for convenience’s sake. but it was never just convenience, you realize; the gods had always intended for you and him to be woven together—he was always meant to be yours in this life

“kingslayer be king, godslayer be god. iron-hooves pound across the wilderness for the campaign, and must eventually soak in the blood of their homeland”

total word count: tba

warnings: non canon au ; royal + historical au ; war ; a few character deaths i apologize (not reader or mydei though. i swear i spared you from that much) ; themes of colonialism ; violence, blood, injury, and slight gore (just war things unno?) ; smut ; brief sexual harassment in prologue ; arranged/political marriage ; princess to queen reader & crown prince to king mydei ; all chapters will have more in depth warnings

comments: OH GOD . okay . okay here we go — special thanks to carina for helping me with scene planning and world building and future beta reading. this is my first (sort of) series so please go gentle on me

comment to be added to taglist!

PROLOGUE : GODSLAYER — 18.2K WORDS

ACT ONE : BLOOD FOR BLOOD

ACT TWO : THRONE OF BONES

EPILOGUE : BLOODIED CHITON

property of meowdei — all rights reserved. do not copy, redistribute, recommend or translate to any other platforms

[aeristudios]

see you, space cowboy

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: With a bounty on your head, you are determined to get your revenge at all costs… even if it means losing the man that you love. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bounty hunter!Wonwoo x bounty hunter!reader, mentions of other members (Jeonghan, Soonyoung and Mingyu) .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, sc-fi, smut, lovers to enemies to ???, cowboy bebop elements, space au, established relationship, betrayal, dark themes, neo-noir, dystopian-ish if you squint .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: PLEASE READ ALL THE WARNINGS! heavy angst, very strong language, mentions of murder/attempted murder, gun violence (for revenge and they're bounty hunters so), familial death, morally grey characters, grief, emotional manipulation (not by Wonwoo or the reader), drugging (not for sexual purposes), toxic family dynamics, gaslighting, graphic violence (reader gets into fights defending herself), guilt/self blame, mentions of black market dealings, kissing, oral (giving and receiving), nipple play, fingering, nail digging, unprotected shower sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, throat grabbing, creampie. lots and lots of yearning .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 16.7K .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐀𝐍: It's finally hereeeeee. Reader has a nickname "Silver", which is explained why and she will be referred as that for the most part. I was inspired by Cowboy Bebop and as a 90s anime enthusiast , I dreamed this up when I was doing a rewatch and I had to make this happen. I want to give a huge thank you to @starlightkyeom for reading this, putting up with me sending long ass voice notes agonizing over this story and reassuring me that what I had was good. I feel like we have gotten closer because of this 😭 thank you Cam @highvern for giving me some info on bioweapons (even though I didn't use it much). It gave me some insight for other ideas I might have for this universe. Also thank you to @hobeemin, @hannieween, @neoneun-au and @straylightdream for reading as well and letting me bounce off ideas. It helped me a lot when I was stuck and need another opinion. Also thank you Beezy @hobeemin for the cool ass banner.

visual concept #1 visual concept #2 playlist epilogue

You see him coming to your door, gun drawn with his finger on the trigger, ready to shoot. You duck behind the bookshelf, the only place you can hide in this small room. Creeping low on the ground, you clutch your own pistol in your hand as your breathing slows. Your heart beats a million times a minute, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you wait for him to come in. Despite having a million-dollar bounty on your head, you are determined to get out of here alive, even if it means losing the man that you love.

“Silver, I know you're in there.”

Hearing Wonwoo’s voice is like a shot to the heart. You love him with every fiber of your being. He is your morning sun, the Heart Nebula to your Soul Nebula, and anything you could say to describe a love that fills you deep in your soul and makes you whole. He is the one for you, and it’s fucked that you are on enemy lines. You never thought it would be you against him. It was always supposed to be you and him till the end of time.

But you made it this way.

If this were another situation, you would be flattered that your life was worth this much to anyone. Unfortunately, you didn’t achieve this by being a damsel in distress, but by taking a shot at the head boss of your Organization, Aeron— and you almost succeeded. You were so close, narrowly missing his head by a centimeter and marking his ear instead. Wonwoo, your fiancé and his adopted son, was his saving grace as he knocked the gun out of your hand at the last minute. You should feel conflicted, as the man raised you as one of his own and trained you personally to be the top bounty hunter. He even gave you your nickname, “Silver,” due to the thick strand of silver hair you were born with, a signature trait passed down from your mother’s side of the family. He was a family friend, and you loved him like an uncle, and in a way, you still do. That’s why this hurts so much.

“Baby, open the door… I just want to know why you did it.”

The deep anguish in his voice twists your stomach into knots. You promised him that you would never hurt him and be honest with him, even if it meant breaking his heart. You’ve kept your word until now, and you hope that when the dust settles, he will understand.

The door creaks open, and you move towards the wall as the loud creak muffles your foot movement. His shadow is darker, moving closer to you, and before he can see you, you grab a heavy book and throw it at his head as a distraction. Wonwoo is quick, knocking it out of place and kicking down the bookshelf, forcing you to scurry out of the way. A small table separates the two as you face each other for the first time in months.

“Hey there, space cowboy.”

You aren’t sure why you were expecting him to crack a smile at the nickname you gave him long ago. You stare at each other, his stern stare enough to scare anyone away. His eyes are heavy with an unspoken pain that you caused, and it eats you alive. You know he didn’t want to be the one to bring you in, but you both know if it were someone else, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Silver, I don’t want to fight,” Wonwoo warns. “But you know what will happen if I don’t bring you in.”

“Well, tough shit,” you spit. “You know what will happen to me if I return to the Nova District. So you’re just going to have to bring me in dead.”

Another moment of silence hangs between you two, your fingernails digging into your palms as you prepare for a fight.

“One day, you’ll understand why I did it.”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer immediately; you can see the gears turning in his mind as he wrestles with your words, the pain etched on his face.

“Why can’t you help me understand now?” he pleads, desperation creeping into his voice. “Why did you try to kill him? Why didn’t you talk to me about this?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

He shakes his head, and you sigh heavily, your shoulders hanging low in exhaustion. Of course, he didn’t tell him, and you shouldn’t be surprised. Being honest isn’t exactly Aeron’s strong suit, and now you have to explain everything. The lies and secrets are how you ended up here in the first place. But today isn’t the day for that—you must get out of there and hope that one day, Wonwoo will be able to forgive you.

“I don’t have time to explain now,” your voice cracks. You're angry and tired all the same. “You just have to trust me.”

“Just like you trusted me before you shot at Aeron?” His words are laced with a venom that incinerates your chest. He’s hurt, and you know he’s right, but there is no time to dwell on that.

Taking Aeron’s life was necessary, even if you failed, as he lied to you for years about your family. You became an orphan when you were twelve, watching your family’s house blow up on a hill while you were painting. You were always told that it was a gas leak, and you believed that until you received an ominous email with documents and recordings that proved it was a lie. Aeron was in love with your mother, and they had been having an affair for years. Seeing the pictures of them embracing, exchanging longing looks, and kissing… it was hard to look at.

“I know this isn’t fair, but please, believe me.” The ache in your torn heart that you’ve been ignoring rears its ugly head, bringing you to tears. “I don’t want to bring you further into this.”

“I’m already in it!” Wonwoo raises his voice, the gun trembling in his hand. “My fiancé shot the man who raised me. Took you in. I’m already knee-deep into this shit, Silver!”

He lunges at the table and throws it against the wall, catching you off guard. Aside from your jobs as bounty hunters, he has never gotten aggressive towards you. He’s warm and gentle and would worship the ground you walk on. Seeing him in turmoil, a pain that you caused paralyzes you momentarily, allowing him to cross the room towards you, pulling you close to him. Your knees almost buckle in close proximity to him, and you have half a mind to call all this off and go back with him. Figure all this shit out. Your heart bleeds for him.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, his eyes peering into your soul. “Why did you do this?”

You rest your head against his shoulder, ready to lay down your burdens and reveal the truth. “He’s responsible for my family’s death.”

You feel him stiffen, his breathing tempered as you wipe away your tears, regaining your composure as you explain what happened. “He planned all of it. The gas leak, my house blowing up. All of it because he was in love with my mother.”

You explained how you received the evidence via email and Dropbox, which is typically used for work purposes, and how your own investigation followed afterward. You didn’t believe it at first, and you almost deleted everything, chucking it up to someone trying to fuck with your head and take your spot from being the top bounty hunter on the planet. But with that email came a delivery of something precious, making it seem like maybe it was the truth after all: a picture of your mother wearing a locket. A silver heirloom passed down resembled a peony covered with red jadeites. It is a rare gem that doesn’t exist in this galaxy, and your mother always had it tucked away, promising that one day it would be yours as the oldest child.

Even though you were far from the house, the force of the explosion knocked you off your feet, and you hit your head; you blocked out your memory, and your doctors all say it’s due to trauma and all of the related stuff. You started to forget about the locket, and eventually, your family’s memory became distant. That same locket, however, Aeron kept in his possession all these years in a glass container. He said it was his most “prized possession” that he won after a “tough” job, and despite the familiar feeling you had whenever you were near it, you believed him. Never again.

“The affair with my mother wasn’t just some secret,” you say, your voice filled with rage and sorrow. “He had been obsessed with her for years. They were childhood sweethearts, and she was forced to marry my father in an arranged marriage that turned into real love.” You grab his hands and study his eyes, hoping to find a flicker of hope that he believed you and that you didn’t just fly off the handle. “She tried to end it for years, and he wouldn’t let her. Now look what’s happened.”

The transcripts and phone call recordings showed she wanted to end things with Aeron and be faithful to your father. Your mother was beautiful and had an elegance and grace that turned every head in the room. You don’t know how the affair started, but you know your mother wanted to be free from Aeron, and he wouldn’t have that. So instead of letting her go, he killed her and everyone that you loved in that house. Your parents, your little sister, and your cat Dipper. All gone with a boom. He didn’t count on you not being in the house, so he tried to cover his tracks by taking you in. Raising you with Wonwoo, training you two together to be the best hunters in the galaxy. He watched you two fall in love and bragged about how much he loved his family. He talked about how much he loved you. It’s sick.

Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrow as he processes your words, shadows of doubt flickering in his eyes. “How do you know what was sent was the truth? You could’ve come to me, and we could’ve—”

“Could’ve done fucking what?” You cut in sharply. “Gone to him and had him tell us the truth? He wouldn’t have done that if you were there. That’s why I went alone.”

You feel anger building in your chest, and you want to scream into the void. Betrayal doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel; it’s as if someone is tearing your heart apart at the seams. You can feel every rip, every piece of you being pulled away, and it just won’t stop.

“I know I put you in an impossible position, and I’m sorry,” you search his eyes for understanding and comfort. “I love you. So fucking much. And I know he means a lot to you, and he meant a lot to me, too, but he has to go—”

“Baby, stop,” he pleads. “Don’t do this.”

“I have to. I’m sorry.”

You lean in, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss, your heart racing as he pulls you closer to him. His taste evokes nostalgia and comfort, reminding you of happier times when you lay in bed together and talked about your future, planning your wedding, and discussing jobs you'd take together. Your whole lives were mapped out for the taking, and you could’ve had it all. Maybe you still can, in another life.

You quietly pull a powder called Dreamshade out of your back pocket. It is a bag of fine, shimmering dust that glimmers with deep violet and midnight blue, mixed with the endangered plants of blooming nightshade and wild lavender. A tear trickles down your left cheek as you know what you have to do next, breaking your kiss and sprinkling the dust across his face. You watch his expression soften, confusion clouding his features as he slumps to the ground, unconscious. You pull him until his back is against the wall, your heart twisting painfully as you betray his trust for the second time.

With one last lingering glance, you slip into the night, the vision of the last day your family was alive fueling your resolve. You had to eliminate Aeron, even if it meant losing everything.

Wonwoo remembered the first time you met. 

You were brought home from the hospital, where you spent a few weeks unconscious from the blast that destroyed your home. Aeron told him you were coming to stay with them and that it was his job to protect you. He didn’t know what the hell he meant by that; he was just a scrawny fifteen-year-old pickpocket living on the streets before he was found. He was born and raised in the Lutum district, poor, with two parents who passed away when he was ten years old from a plague that took over his city. He only knew how to take care of himself. Why was it his responsibility to care for someone he didn’t know? 

Wonwoo was a shy and quiet kid, but he knew that you meant a lot to Aeron, and he would do anything to please the man who took him in. You two didn’t talk much at first; his job was to protect you, not be your friend. But the more time you spent together as you navigated your new reality,  the closer you two became, and he got to see you for who you were. You were half a year younger than him, but you never let it show, as he found you fearless and driven, sometimes to the point that you were reckless. He always had your back, even if you were in the wrong, and Wonwoo wasn’t afraid to call you out on your shit. 

“Do you really have to start a fight everywhere we go?”

You were both nineteen, and you were dragged out of the club in Adamas City for punching a girl who got too close to your “date,” if that’s what you wanted to call it; more like your flavor of the month. You didn’t know the man had an on-and-off girlfriend, nor did you know she would show up to the place and start screaming at you, calling you every kind of whore, and how your parents were ashamed from the grave to have a daughter like you. But you did know she had to be taught manners, and before Wonwoo could stop you, the girl was knocked to the floor with a bruised right eye and a chipped tooth.

“Wonwoo, stop.” You snatched your hand from him. “I’m fine.” 

“Yeah, no shit, Silver,” Wonwoo retorted, running his fingers through his hair. “Why can’t you be normal for once?”

“Because,” you adjusted your jacket. “That’s fucking boring.” 

You frustrated him to no end. You were wild and resilient, and despite the hellfire you brought, you had a sharp wit and knack for adapting to any situation you were in. You also made him curious and brought a spark to his chest whenever you were around, and he found you more attractive as time went on. He noticed how your eyes squinted when you read, and how your silver hair shone brightly in the sun and moonlight. You sparkled like the stars in the night, a nuclear fusion of many components that made you beautiful to him, that kept him grounded.

Deep down, Wonwoo knew what that meant. It’s not like he hasn’t had crushes before, but you were different; you made him feel alive. Seeing you date these guys, who wouldn’t last longer than a few weeks, bothered him. You need someone you could rely on at the end of the day and be comfortable with; you needed someone who felt like home, and he wanted to be that for you. 

Wonwoo swore he would protect you with his life to Aeron, but he didn’t realize falling for you was in the cards. 

Aeron wasn’t pleased to hear what happened in the club, and he made you both start training to become bounty hunters for the Organization. He said you needed discipline and structure, and let you get away with acting out for far too long. Wonwoo didn’t fight it; he knew he was right, and it was time for you to grow and become an adult. You surprisingly took everything in stride, attending all the necessary training and adhering to the daily regimen implemented for you throughout this process. Later on, Wonwoo asked you why you didn’t fight it, and you said something clicked with you— you could either party and fight anyone who got in your way, or you could do something with your life and be taken more seriously. Amid everything, you wanted respect.

You two trained together with Aeron personally and became even closer. You tended each other’s cuts and bruises, vented about each other’s day, and, late at night, shared secrets about your fears and what you wanted for your future. You didn’t share much about your childhood, but Wonwoo shared about his life before Aeron, and he was okay with that. He saw you coming into your own, making him grow fond of you even more. Sometimes, he wondered if what he felt was love or if he just liked you a lot. But he kept to himself, as he didn’t want to rock the boat with Aeron, and he didn’t want to mess up this dynamic he had with you. 

A year into training, you both had to take a series of mental aptitude tests to strengthen your minds against any emotional factors that could affect your jobs. He knew bounty hunting wouldn’t be just bringing people in alive or collecting treasure— it also meant possibly taking people out of equations, permanently. On the last day of the test, he met with you on the rooftop of the Hightower, the building where the Organization was located and where you both lived. The test was rigorous, and it forced him to think of his parents and the pain they suffered from the sickness that killed them, and he just wanted a quiet moment to process that. He missed them.

After midnight, the stars formed different constellations in the dazzling dark sky, and you leaned on the balcony, lost in thought as the wind flowed slightly to the East. Wonwoo knew something was wrong; you never want to be this still. He was usually the quiet one and listened to you talk. It was his favorite thing to do at the end of the day. 

“Are you okay?” 

Wonwoo placed a supporting hand on your shoulder, watching you slowly come back to reality and regain your focus on him. Your eyes were red, and your face was tear-stricken, and it hurt him to see you upset. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you sniffled, wiping your face with your shirt sleeve. “The test just really sucked.”

“Yeah, I know,” Wonwoo agreed, leaning against the rail. “I’m glad it’s over.” 

“Is it?” You let out a shaky breath, gazing at the sky. “We will be doing jobs soon, which means we will be doing some tough things. What if we come across a dead family or a child without their parents?”

He watched your bottom lip tremble as you burst into tears, quickly covering your face and turning away from him. 

“What if I am not cut out for this?”

Wonwoo pulled you into a warm hug, letting you sob on his shirt as he rubbed your back. He had never seen you break down like this, which nerved him. You’ve always made it a point to never let anyone see you cry, yet you felt so vulnerable and trusted him. It pulled at him heavily, and he wanted to take your pain away. 

“Hey,” he lifted your chin slightly so your eyes met. “You’re stronger than you think. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still here. You’re a force of nature, Silver. I believe in you.” 

You nodded softly as he wiped the remaining tears from the corner of your eye. Wonwoo will always be there to protect you; as long as he is alive, no one else will ever make you cry again. 

“Wonwoo,” you whispered, gazing into his eyes. “I’m going to do something that you’ve been too nice to do.” 

Before he could respond, you pulled him into a kiss, catching him off guard. His pulse quickened as he understood what was happening, but he kissed you back, the heat radiating between you two on this chilly high tower. He needed you, but didn’t know how to tell you; however, he would surely show you, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer. Your kiss deepened, a mix of yearning and relief in the air as if he knew you felt the same way. 

You finally pulled apart, breathless and content. Wonwoo’s heart was pounding; he wanted more but didn’t want to rush things. In due time, it would happen. 

“Well, it’s exciting to know you feel the same way, space cowboy.” 

“You are never going to let that nickname go, will you?”

“Never.”

A slight grin spread across your face, and you stepped back, looking at the night sky again. Wonwoo came behind you and wrapped his arms around you, wanting to feel your warmth again. If it were up to him, he would never let you go. He stood there in silence, watching the beautiful person in front of him finally have a moment of peace, and it was because of him. 

At that moment, Wonwoo knew he was in love, and despite being ordered to protect and save you, you also saved him from a lifetime of loneliness. 

It took you a few hours to get to Merchara, an industrial planet dominated by towering factories and sprawling cities. The sky is a permanent rust orange, filled with smog that suffocates without the proper mask. It’s ironic that you are going to a place where you can barely breathe on your own after what you did to Wonwoo back there, leaving him slumped on a wall. You haven’t stopped crying and haven’t been able to breathe easily since a tight knot settling on your chest as each hour goes by; you don’t deserve him.

“Let’s do this shit,” you muttered. 

Settling behind a building in the city of Theodian, you wipe the remaining tears off your face and regain focus. You took a ship common enough to blend in with others in the galaxy that would let you go undetected. You registered with an alternate login no one knew, which gave you enough time to disable the GPS and turn into a ghost, hence its name, Umbra. People only come to this planet if they are hiding out or are involved in the black market. Fortunately, the person you need to see fits both criteria, and he may be the only person in this galaxy who will not rat you out the second you step into his establishment: Yoon Jeonghan. 

You met him on a job when you were tasked with a group of other bounty hunters to raid his building and eliminate anyone who got in your way. The job was messy and ended with unnecessary casualties, and you suspect that Jeonghan was targeted because he dabbles in black-market weaponry and tech. The only reason why you spared him, despite him attacking you on sight, was because he was protecting a little girl, his sister. Despite him being good at fighting, you had the upper hand, and you were ready to get rid of him, but then you saw her crawl from behind the table, wild-eyed and shaken. She stood behind him with big brown eyes and clung to his shirt, and it reminded you of the little sister you lost, and you didn’t want to be the reason you took her family away. 

You spared his life, and because of that, he became your most trusted ally, second only to Wonwoo. Jeonghan would supply you with weapons at a cheaper rate as a token of gratitude, and eventually, you would become friends. His sister, Sohee, was wary of you at first, and you didn’t blame her; you almost killed her brother. But she came around, and now she refers to you as “Aunt” Silver when you come around.

“Hello?”

Your knuckles rapped against the door while you waited for a response. The door slowly creaked open with little effort, causing your body to tense as you became more alert. Hesitating, you quietly pushed the door open, greeted by the coolness of the living room. Your heart quickened as you scanned the room, looking for anything out of place. You’ve known them a long time, and it’s not like them to leave their doors unlocked. 

You hear shuffling from the back corner, and you quickly pull out your gun, only to be met by Jeonghan, holding a basket of fruit. 

“Well, hello,” Jeonghan greets you, eyeing your gun.

“Don’t worry, Hannie, I come in peace,” you say, raising your hands slowly.

“Yeah, I don’t think you have much of a choice, Miss Million Dollar Bounty,” he smirks as he sets down his basket. You relax and put the gun back in its holster.

“You heard about that, huh?” you sighed. “I imagine the news is probably all over the galaxy.” 

“Fresh on the ten o’clock telecasts,” he remarked. 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah.”

You sit on one of the barstools, your head in your hands as everything hits you all at once. Finding out the truth about your family, attempting to kill Aeron, Wonwoo… fuck, Wonwoo. The thought of him lying there all alone feels like a knife twisting in your gut. 

“How is Wonwoo taking all of this?”

You slowly look up at him, your eyes blurry from the tears that you managed to repress for a short time. “Not good,” you sniffle. “I broke his heart.”

Your chest feels heavy, like a weight pressing down on you as you unravel, releasing all the frustration and hurt you've experienced over the past twenty-four hours. You thought Aeron was one of your last living connections to your family, and learning that he had a hand in severing that bond makes you feel sick to your stomach.

Jeonghan quickly pulls you into his embrace as you cry, unable to keep your jar of emotions shut. You’re not a crier; you view it as a weakness and never want anyone to see you that way… but you can’t help it. Your heart aches for the family you lost, Wonwoo, and for everything that has transpired since then. It feels like the last fifteen years were a lie—a facade created for Aeron to cover his tracks.

“He hates me, Hannie.” Your voice trembled. “Wonwoo is never going to forgive me.”

“Shhh, don’t say that,” he shushed you. “If I know anything about Wonwoo, you are his sun and moon and all that other cliche stuff. From what I have seen, that man is too deep in love with you. I’m sure he’ll understand… just give him some time.”

“I don’t know,” you sniffled again. “I really knocked him out the last time I saw him.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Dreamshade.”

“Oh, Silver,” he clicks his tongue. “You were always a sneaky one.”

He hands you a napkin, and you wipe your face in the mirror. Your eyes are rubor red and you lack sleep. You look worn down and defeated; even your silver hair is dull and no longer full of life. 

“You need to sleep,” Hannie says suddenly. “Go up to Sohee’s room and take a nap.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “I gotta keep moving. Where is she anyway?”

“School,” he says, taking the bananas out of the basket. “You do know what time it is, right?”

You glance at the digital clock on the wall; it reads nine o'clock AM, its bright blue lights glowing prominently. The adrenaline that has fueled you for the past twenty-four hours is fading, and fatigue and hunger crash over you like wildfire. Your back aches, and your feet are sore. As much as you want to leave, you know Jeonghan is right: you are completely exhausted.

“I just really need to re-up on some supplies,” you say wearily. “I’ll be out of your hair soon. I don’t want to risk you and Sohee’s life any more than I am being here.”

“Silver, you saved our lives even when you didn’t have to,” Jeonghan said firmly. “I will always have your back.”

He pointed toward Sohee’s room. “You should rest first. I can give you what you need when you wake up. But if you keep going like this, you will exhaust yourself, and I won’t be able to help you.”

You sigh heavily, running your fingers through your hair. “Don’t you want to know why I did it?”

Jeonghan pauses momentarily, giving you a once-over before coming around the corner. “Not if it’s going to get me in trouble,” he smirked. “But seriously, whatever reason you did it, I’m sure it was justified.”

You don’t have the strength to argue anymore; your eyes grow heavy with each passing second. You let him lead you to her bed, where he untucks the covers. You slowly crawl in, the scent of lavender lingering on her pillow.

“Sleep,” Jeonghan says softly. “I’ve got you.”

You nod, too tired to think. Your body succumbs to fatigue, and you drift into a deep sleep.

Wonwoo dreamed about you. 

It was an old memory, but it’s one of his favorites. You two were at the Sanctuary, a blip on the map outside the city, kept a secret from the public. You two discovered it accidentally after finishing a mission on the planet Glacius, which became your secret getaway. Very few people know about this place, and it provided the privacy you both craved when you grew tired of being in the public eye. The weather was always warm, with a tropical element reminiscent of the beaches on old Earth.

You had only been dating officially for several months, but Wonwoo was deeply in love. You were fire and ice and an enigma all at the same time. You made his soul smile when you touched him, and he was in awe of your bravery and the lengths you were willing to go to protect him on each mission. You weren’t the heavy emotional type, but he knew how much you cared about him. It was the little things— the way you talked to him softly like no one else could, the way you kept contact when Wonwoo spoke, and by gods, the way you kissed him. He felt it, knew you loved him too. But you haven’t said it out loud yet. 

“Wonwoo… I think I am ready to take the next step.” 

You two were lying on the blankets on the beach, letting the sun kiss your skin and melting the cold away from the other planet. Wonwoo lifted his head up, his glasses slightly askew and his heart racing as he replayed the words in his head.

“W-what step?”

You raised an eyebrow and threw him a look, and he got your message crystal clear. “Oh… I mean, are you sure?”

“Yes,” you nodded, now sitting up. “I want to do this with you. I’ve never been in love before… and I want to know what it’s like to do it with someone you love.”

Wonwoo’s eyes softened, sitting up and moving closer to you. “You love me?”

“Yes, you dolt,” you giggled. “Do you need me to say it?”

You leaned closer to him, your lips barely touching his. “I love you, space cowboy. More than you know.” 

Wonwoo never acts on impulse. He always thought ahead and planned for every scenario, but this time, he wanted to live in the moment with you and forget all his inhibitions. So he kissed you. Hard.

There wasn’t a place in the galaxy hotter than you two. Passion and lust flowed through each other at the simple but profound eight-lettered phrase. His heart was beating out of his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he laid you back on the blanket, tasting vanilla on your lips. 

“You are a man of very few words, Wonwoo,” you teased him. “I take it you love me too?”

He gave you one last, lingering kiss before gazing into your eyes, seeing a vision of love in front of him. 

“You consume every thought that I have. You make me feel open and alive. I love you, Silver—”

Bzzt! Bzzt!

Wonwoo’s world started to crumble, the Sanctuary slipping away with you in it, forming into a dark, blurry room with four vibrating walls. 

Bzzt Bzz!

Wonwoo stirred slowly, his right jeans pocket buzzing incessantly as he opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, a sign that the eye drops he had used to clear his eyesight had worn off. He reached into his left jacket pocket, pulled out his glasses, and carefully slipped them on. A dull ache throbbed in his head, and he felt groggy as the events of the previous day flooded back to him.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled, digging into his right pocket.

He looked at the screen and groaned when he saw Aeron's call from his private residence. He rarely used the private line unless it was a matter of serious concern.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“State your location,” Aeron’s voice responded gruffly from the speaker.

It took Wonwoo a moment to answer; the effects of the Dreamshade were still holding him back. “I’m at the Portalis.”

The Portalis was a small area in the Nova District with a portal that transported people to other planets. There were a dozen rooms where individuals could conduct business, rest, or do whatever they wanted, much like a motel. Wonwoo knew that you would go there after the attempt on Aeron’s life; he would have done the same.

“Have you captured her?”

He envisioned your face, your soft lips pressed against his, before everything went purplish-blue and black. He should be angry at you for running off instead of sticking together; you are a team. But his love and longing for you supersede any anger he might feel. He was made for you, you need him, and he is determined to see this through. 

“No,” he pushed himself off the ground. “Not yet.”

“What do you mean not yet?!” Aeron snapped. “Did you forget what that bitch did?”

“That bitch is Silver,” Wonwoo defended, dusting off his jacket. “She isn’t some stranger on the street or a temp for hire. She is family. My fiancé.”

“Family doesn’t try to kill each other, Wonwoo,” Aeron said plainly. “She went against us. You know what happens when you break the code.” 

Wonwoo stilled, leaning against the wall as the effects of Dreamshade finally started to wear off. He knew very well what happens when you break the code, and never wanted to meet that kind of fate. Let’s just say he would rather have his death swift and to the point, instead of floating around in space. 

“Aeron, what Silver said you did… is there any truth to that?”

There was a momentary silence thick with anticipation; he almost thought Aeron hung up. 

“Are you questioning me, boy?”  His voice roared through the speaker. “Understand something. If I tell you to skip, you ask how many times you hear me? You would still be in the streets if it weren’t for me. Bring her to me NOW, or you will die right next to her.” 

The call ended with a hard click before he could respond, and he just stood there, motionless and angry. Aeron has never talked to Wonwoo that way, and he could feel his heart beating through his ears. Who does he think he is? Wonwoo didn’t need him. He didn’t ask to be saved. The Organization would be nothing without him and Silver, and he knows that. Is this how family treats each other?

He exited the room and slammed it shut, frustration seeping out of him as he climbed into his ship and turned on the engine. He would deal with Aeron later, but he had to find Silver before it was too late.

“Aunt Silver, wake up.” 

You feel a little hand softly nudge you awake. Your mouth opens, and tiny drool drops come out of the corner of your mouth. Your eyes regain focus, and you stare at little Sohee, with pigtails in her hair and a clean school uniform. She beams once you recognize her, giving you a tight hug that touches your heart. 

“Jeonghan told me to wake you up. Dinner is ready.” 

“Dinner?”

You look at the time plastered on the wall—it was quarter past seven. Shooting out of bed, you hurriedly put on your socks and laced up your boots, kissing Sohee on her head as you walked out of the bedroom. 

“No, Jeonghan said you must stay and eat with me.” 

“I can’t, sweetie,” you say, frantically looking around the house for your weapons. “I have somewhere to be and shouldn’t have stayed here this long.”

Little Sohee folds her arms and stands in front of the front door. “Jeonghan says he will be back and to stay with me and eat.”

This makes you stop in your tracks, and a slight panic starts to kick in. “He left?”

“Yes,” she nods. “He says something about you needing 'supplies' and he will be back.”

Then it clicks. Jeonghan must have gone to get you more weapons, and he doesn’t want you to leave Sohee alone. Jeonghan, if nothing else, is a tricky bastard.

“Okay,” you sighed, walking to the kitchen. 

Laid out on the table was an arrangement of foods in bowls, steaming hot, accompanied by a rare tea that grows only on this planet: hibiscus. You sit in view of the front door to see when Jeonghan or anyone else comes. Despite your eagerness to get out of there and your stomach pains of hunger, you reluctantly sit down, grab a bowl, and fill it with rice and braised chicken.

You observe Sohee as she happily fills her bowl with miso soup, accompanied by a side of grilled fish, with not a care in the world. You miss being at that age, when you only had to worry about whether your mom would let you play outside or if you remembered to fill Dipper’s food bowl. Sadness and a hint of envy prick at your heart, and you think of your past life and what you could’ve become.

“How’s school?” 

“It’s fine, Aunt Silver,” Sohee responds, slurping her soup. “We are learning about planets in the Milky Way and how they differ from those in our galaxy.” 

You listen to her shoot off random facts about Earth, Mars, and all the other planets in the solar system in awe. You’ve heard the story a million times about how Earth became inhabitable and how we had to travel through galaxies to get here. But hearing Sohee tell it, happy to share the knowledge she is learning, warms your heart. This is partly why you wanted to leave; you care about Sohee so much and want her to have the life your sister could’ve had. 

You mostly eat silently for the rest of dinner, and Sohee has already packed food for you to go before she wakes you up. You hear the door creak, and you instinctively grab for your gun, panic setting in when you remember it isn’t in your holster.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me.” Jeonghan’s voice rang out, calming your nerves. “I come bearing gifts.”

You meet him in the living room as he pulls out the weapons, more Dreamshade, clothes, and other things needed to protect you while you’re out there. You pick up a magazine, the cool metal feeling familiar in your grip, and begin attaching it to your gun with practiced efficiency. You secure your other weapons and powders that would affect you without gloves. You glance at Jeonghan, who gives you a soft smile and places a supporting hand on your shoulder. 

“You and Wonwoo will find your way back to each other. Do what you have to do.” 

You nod, put on your mask, walk out of the back door toward your ship, and place your bag behind your seat. Taking deep breaths, you are determined not to cry again as you head to your next destination for more answers.

“WAIT!”

You look to your left, and Sohee runs towards you, holding the packed food you forgot to grab. 

“Here,” Sohee shoved it into your hands. “I also put some hot buns in there, in case Uncle Wonwoo wants some.” Hearing his name left a painful reminder that struck your heart, leaving you momentarily lost in the memories you don’t want to revisit.

“Aww, come here, kid,” you say, shaking off those feelings, putting everything aside, and pulling her into a tight hug. 

“Aunt Silver, I don’t care what the people on TV say. You aren’t a bad person. I know it.”

Fresh tears threaten to break through, and you don’t want her to see that. Sohee is sweet, pure, and full of light. You hope she never changes.

“Thank you, Sohee,” you manage to say. “It means a lot to me.”

You wait until Sohee is safe before booting up your ship, soaring high in the galaxy, and heading to your next destination. 

The trip to Glacius was the longest twelve hours you have ever had to sit through. You’ve been on longer trips, but you were never alone—you at least had Wonwoo and other crew members or bounty hunters with you. The silence is the hardest part to sit through, the crippling thoughts in your head and considering your current mental state, it’s hard to turn off. All you can do is grieve; you mourn the life that you lost and the one that you are about to lose again, because of Aeron. There isn’t a hell in this galaxy you won’t send him through, and you will see to it that he suffers a satisfying death. 

The temperature drops significantly the farther you travel from the sun, and a turquoise planet with cloud rings around comes into view. Glacius is a planet with icy terrain throughout its surface. From the outside, there is nothing but snow for miles, and the forest is filled with Glaceons and other wild animals. However, only a few know about Zoie, the underground city with just over fifty thousand people. Scientists and researchers mostly live here, and the only place besides Merchara where you have another ally you can turn to at the drop of a hat.

You park your ship and suit up to brace the freezing cold. It is your luck to come here in the middle of the storm, but what other choice do you have? You exit the ship, fighting against the wind until you reach Zoie's hidden entrance. Three taps from your foot alert to your arrival. The ground shifts, and you are lowered through a glass tube, with illuminated lights being your only source of light in the darkness. Eventually, you reach the entrance to the city, met by bodyguards circling around as the glass lifts. 

“State your business here,” the agent with toad-like skin gruffed. The other guards took your bag and body searched you, digging through your bag in hopes of finding incriminating evidence. 

“I’m here for Dr. Selene Ardyn,” you say, eyeing one of the guards with porcelain-like skin sniffing your hot buns. 

“Wait here.” 

You awkwardly stand there while they finish searching your bags, your eyes twitching as they unfold the clothes you had packed and throw everything back unceremoniously. You would think that being in a place renowned for technology would instill more manners in people, but alas, not everyone possesses class. 

“These hot buns, you don’t want them, right?” The guard pulls one out and eats it in front of you. 

“Nope,” you roll your eyes. “Have fucking at it.” 

You shake your head, looking away at the greasy man smearing minced meat over his face in disgust. Your thumbnail instinctively digs into your palm, and you slowly count to ten as you try to keep your annoyance at bay. 

“What’s wrong?” He goads, stepping closer to you. “You don’t like it when people take your things?”

“You’re awfully perceptive.” You stand your ground. “I guess the worms in your brain have finally mellowed out.”

The other guards snicker at your remark, and you look straight ahead, waiting for the toad-like guard to return. The porcelain guard’s face turns tomato red, and before you can react, his hand grabs your throat and slams you against the wall. 

“You bounty hunters think you are tough shit and are better than the rest of us,” his words spit on your face. “You probably can’t even fi—”

Before he could finish his thought, he was already on the floor, thanks to a quick head butt and a kick to the left knee. It’s been a long day. You are tired and hungry, and the ache from missing Wonwoo eats at you more and more. You could’ve let his words slide and waited for the doctor, but unfortunately for him, you were having a bad time. 

Turning him over, you place your foot on his back and grab both of his arms, pulling them back until you hear a tear and a blood-curdling scream that makes you satisfied. “You were saying?”

“What’s going on here?”

You look up, facing Dr. Selene Ardyn, watching the scene before her with an eyebrow raised. She was all but five feet two, with smooth caramel colored skin and thick hair wrapped neatly into a bun. Dressed like the typical scientist, complete with a white trench coat, she folds her arms while waiting for an answer. 

“Your guard ate my food and put his grubby hands on me,” you grit through your teeth. “So I was teaching him some manners.”

“Silver, is that necessary?” Selene asks, looking annoyed. “Let him go, and I’ll take you back to my quarters. I’ve been expecting you.” 

You tug his arms one last time, dropping them unceremoniously, grabbing your bag, and walking around the injured guard. The other three move away quickly as you storm by, the red you saw slowly dissipating. 

“Guards?” You hear Selene call out. “Take Brutus to the medics and tell them I sent him.”

Selene Adryn is one of the most renowned scientists and engineers in the galaxy, specializing in the research of bioweapons. You have worked for her several times, gathering plants and resources from all over the galaxy, and have grown somewhat close. You’ve seen how she interacts with her employees, and though she hasn’t explicitly said it, you knew you could go to her if you were ever in trouble. 

The click of her heels against the glossy floor is almost melodic, calming your nerves as you pass the different quarters. Zoie City is not your typical city; besides being underground, it mainly comprises engineers, other scientists, and researchers from various fields. Everyone stays to themselves or congregates in the main halls for meals or other relaxing areas. Glancing at your watch, it’s a little after 10am, and everyone is bustling with scientific talk that you quite understand. 

“We’re here,” Selene announces as she stops before two sliding doors. “Let’s hurry inside.”

Placing her hand on the scanner, the machine beeped and gradually opened the door, revealing a sprawling condo with enough space for three houses. Her place was nothing less than high-tech, with housemaid Androids tidying up on each floor. 

“Take off your shoes and give your coat to Bob.”

You already knew who Bob was: her oldest butler, also an Android. He was built to look like a real person, and to someone who doesn’t interact with them often, you would think he is the real thing. But a stark difference always stood out to you—they always looked soulless in the eyes. It unnerved you. 

Sliding off your shoes, you hand your coat to Bob and follow Selene into the living room, where she sits on her sectional sofa. You gaze through the tall picture windows as the storm rages outside. The wind howls, lifting the snow into a wild, swirling dance, throwing it around as if it were nothing. 

“Thank you for seeing me on short notice,” you say, returning your focus to Selene. “I’m sure you saw the news.”

“Yeah, I did,” Selene confirms with a nod. “Seems like you’ve been busy.” 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “Being on the run and all, I don’t exactly have time to sit around and linger.” 

You look down at your beaten hands, twirling the ruby and diamond infinity engagement ring that Wonwoo proposed to you with. He knew red was your favorite color, and he always said you were more precious than rubies and diamonds, which are rare in this galaxy. God, you miss him.

“So, you say you were expecting me?” you ask, pulling yourself out of your sadness.

“Yes, I was,” Selene replies, walking toward the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I want to know how long you’ve known.”

Selena hesitates slightly as she grabs a mug from the counter. If it were anyone else, they might miss it, but after years of bounty hunter training, you have learned to read people’s body language without asking questions. It’s one of your special skills.

“What do you mean, Silver?” she asks.

“I mean,” you get off the couch and approach her in the kitchen, “how long have you known about my family?”

Selene clutches the handle of her hug, sighing heavily before turning around and facing you. In all the many years you’ve known her, you are actually seeing her— the delicate wrinkles on her forehead and the faint shadows beneath her eyes. It feels like her mask has slipped off, and she is finally revealing who she is. 

“Silver, I…” Selene’s voice falters. “How did you figure it out?”

“I didn’t,” you reply softly, trying to keep your emotions in check. “But you just confirmed it.”

When you started receiving the documents about the truth of your family’s death, you knew it had to be someone who had access to your Dropbox. It’s not easily accessible to the public, and though you couldn’t track the IP address exactly, you knew it had originated from far beyond your planet. The first two numbers indicated that you were this far in the galaxy, and you decided to apply the process of elimination. You knew this was a huge gamble, showing up here with accusations that may have been unfounded, but you had to trust your gut, and it rarely steers you wrong. 

“I don’t want to have to ask you again, Selene,” you warned. 

“Okay, okay.” 

She gestures back to the couch and urges you to sit, while you settle opposite her, on guard. Selene had known about you for so long and never said a word… You really can’t trust anyone, except for Wonwoo. 

“You remind me of your mother a lot.” 

Your head ticks at her words, unsure if you heard her right. “What do you mean, I remind you of my mother? How do you know her?”

Selene settles into the sofa, twiddling her thumbs on her lap. “She was my best friend.”

You look at her incredulously, the woman you respected, keeping this secret from you all this time. It all makes sense now; It all clicks now—why she was constantly requesting you for missions and would sometimes let you stay in her home overnight instead of sending you off when the job is complete. Sometimes you’d hear her hum a song your mom used to sing to you to sleep, and you thought it was a coincidence or the song was popular across the galaxy. You’ve just been a fool. 

“Wow,” a bitter laugh escapes your lips. “I can’t fucking believe this.” 

You turn away, looking at the window as the storm still rages on, the chaos mirroring what you feel inside. You're a tempest, brimming with anger and ready to wreak havoc on everyone who has played you like a fool. 

“Selene, you would be dead if I didn’t respect you so much.” 

You turn around and face her, your nails digging sharply in your palms. “You let me believe this lie… this fallacy that Aeron planted all these years. You were my mother’s best friend, supposedly, right? Why didn’t you take me in? Why did you leave me in the hospital for weeks and not visit me ONCE?”

Your chest heaved as you lay it all out. “Why Selene? WHY?”

“I detect elevated voices, is everything al—”

“For the love of Gods, Bob, shut the fuck up!” 

You overflow with anger, reaching behind your back and pulling out your pistol. Cocking the lever, you aim to shoot—

“Y/N, STOP!”

You freeze, slowly gazing at Selene as she runs over to Bob, covering the android with her body. No one has called you by your real name since you were a kid... Since you came to live with Aeron. “Don’t shoot him, please.” You study her, watching her chest heave, panic and fear wild in her eyes. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know. Just… don’t hurt him.”

Reluctantly, you lower your weapon, choosing to keep out instead of putting it up. She whispers something to the android, who nods, bowing to her slightly and leaving the main room. The other androids follow on cue, and it’s just you and her. 

“You said you would tell me everything I need to know.” Your voice is low and tense. “So start talking.”

She sits on the couch, shifting around until she is comfortable, before she begins. “Like I said earlier, your mother and I were best friends. We attended the same girls' school and were roommates, so naturally we became close.”

“So you knew Aeron then as well?”

Her eyes briefly go dark at the mention of his name. “Yes, I knew him. He attended a brother school and would often follow her around. I hated him. I thought he was so weird, but your mother… she was sweet. Always saw the good in people. So, eventually, they fell in love.”

“Her family, your folks, weren’t close, and she thought she could convince them to accept Aeron, and they would get married and start a family. Aeron could’ve been your father.” You grimace at that thought. 

“But,” you cut in. “She was forced to marry Dad, right? “

She nods. “Yes. Your family was a very powerful people, and whatever they said went. So if your grandpa said you had to marry someone, there was only so much she could say or do before bending to their will. Aeron was obviously unhappy with it, but what could he do? He was just a boy who loved someone he could never truly have.”

“Don’t make excuses for him,” you say bitterly. 

“Oh, trust me, I’m not,” Selena waves her hands. “He’s a bastard who didn’t deserve your mother. I will hate him until the day I reach Valhalla.” 

You smirk at her statement, feeling slightly relieved that you two are on the same page. “So you knew my mother, my dad, I assume? How come I never saw you?”

“I used to come around a lot more when you were younger. You probably don’t remember, but I used to visit and bring you stuffed animals. Your favorite was always a lamb.”

You think back to your childhood, when your room was surrounded by stuffed animals of many species. You always found comfort in your little white lamb. You used to sleep with it and named it Boop, which smelled like rose petals. Maybe you were too young to remember her exactly, but your gut doesn’t tell you she’s lying. 

“I couldn’t visit much anymore when I became the head of bioweapon research, and I hadn’t seen your mother in almost ten years. We talked weekly, though, and I saw pictures and videos of you and your sister growing up.” 

A slight pang grips your chest, and your eyes water at the memories of you and your little sister that you could reclaim. She was full of sunshine and life, and she dreamed of exploring the cosmos, of discovering the wonders beyond the stars. She deserved to live, and if you could trade your life for hers, you would do it without a second thought. 

“Your family’s death devastated me,” Selene’s voice trembles. “It still does. When I heard what happened, my heart sank. I went to the morgue, identified the bodies, and started the process of formally taking guardianship over you. You needed someone, and I wanted to be that.”

“So what happened?” you demand, your voice cracking as tears stream down your cheeks. “There were no records of you trying to take guardianship or even visiting me. Why did you leave me there?”

“Aeron threatened me outright,” Selene discloses, shocking your heart. “He said if I tried to take you in, if I got in his way, he would see to it that your life would be a living hell. See, he knew I would eventually discover the truth about the accident. Just because I work mainly with diseases doesn’t mean I have forgotten about regular science. The day I visited your house after the explosion, I knew it wasn’t a simple gas leak.”

“My gods, he is truly a bastard.” You rub your temples. “So you managed to collect all the evidence and kept it hidden? Is that why you personally requested me to run missions for you?”

“Yes,” Selene nods. “It was the only way I could check on you without tipping off Aeron. If he knew we were having this conversation now…”

“To be frank, I don’t care if he knows we’re talking,” you sniffle. “Next time I see him, he will be dead.”

Silence comes over you, and you look to the windows again, watching the storm finally pull back as the snow finally settles. You hear Selene enter the other room and return with a white box engraved with beautiful drawings of bows and flowers. She hands it to you, slowly lifting the top, revealing pictures of your mother and her as kids, as well as pictures of your dad and mom before you were born. 

“I was keeping these until the time was right, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don’t miss your family. Please forgive me for lying to you.” 

Selene breaks down in front of you; all you can do is watch silently. The woman you’ve always seen as composed and put together now shows raw emotion and deep grief, which is unusual for you. Just 24 hours ago, you had no idea that anyone even knew about your family.

“I… I don’t hate you, Selene,” you draw breath. “I can’t say I just move on overnight, but understanding who Aeron truly is, I get you were in a tough spot.” 

Selene manages to calm down, her feelings reeling in slightly as she gazes at you, her eyes red and tear-stricken. “Let me take you to the spare room. I’m sure you want some time alone.” 

You have a lot more questions, especially about your mom’s side of the family, but you decide to table it for another day. You follow her as she takes you into a different room, where you’re used to staying. It’s smaller, but cozier, with a round window next to the bed that gives you the perfect outside view. You look at each other and nod; there is nothing more that needs to be said as of now. 

Gently shutting the door, you undress, settling into bed wearing just your shirt and underwear. You look through the box filled with photos—pictures of your mom and Selene at the all-girls school, moments from dances, and a few happy snapshots of your dad and mom together. For the next few hours, you immerse yourself in every photo, document, and memorabilia that captures your family's life before you were born. As you do, you feel a connection to them, their memories coming alive once more, burning brighter in your heart than ever before. For the first time in a long while, you feel a sense of peace and drift off to sleep.

…

“HEY! WHAT’S GOING ON IN HERE?!’

“BRING HER TO ME NOW!—”

You stir in the soft sheets, believing you are asleep and it’s a part of your dream. 

“SELENE, I WILL GO IN THERE AND GRAB HER MYSELF AND YOU DON’T WANT THAT.”

“Wonwoo, please don’t—”

You shoot up; the mention of his name constricts your heart as you hear shouted voices outside your door. Grabbing your pistol, you quickly leave the room, pointing it toward the voices until you see him: your Wonwoo.

You lock eyes with him, and his expression shifts, displaying a mixture of longing and sadness. It's the first time you've seen him since you left him behind in Portalis. You'll never love anyone as much as you love him.

“Wonwoo, I—”

“Put your clothes on and let’s go,” he commands, his face hardening. “You’re coming with me.”

Wonwoo hated this. He hated all of this. If someone had told him last week that his fiancée would be on the run for attempting to assassinate the head of the Organization and his father figure, he would’ve asked what they had been sniffing. 

It was the first time he had seen you in days, and he was almost breathless at the sight of you. You made his heart race, and all he wanted was to kiss your lips and tell you that everything would be okay, that you could get through this together. But he also remembered how you had left him in the dark during your quest for revenge, and that hurt him deeply. It felt as if the past fifteen years meant nothing; after all this time, you still couldn’t trust him. 

“Silver, let’s go,” he said bitterly. “We don’t have all day.”

You came out of the room shortly after, duffle bags in hand and suited to brace the bitter cold weather outside. He watched as you gave a longing look at Selene, who returned it with a teary nod, watching in sadness as Wonwoo placed the handcuffs on your wrists. 

“Come on, Wonwoo, is this really necessary?” Selene pleaded. “This is your fiancé we’re talking about here.”

“The same fiancé who knocked me out with Dreamshade?” Wonwoo scoffed. “I know better than to underestimate her.”

He shot a glare in your direction, and in response, you looked down at the ground in shame. “I’m sorry, Wonwoo.”

“There seems to be a lot of that going around,” he shook his head. “Let’s go.”

Wonwoo's footsteps echoed against the cold, hard floor as he led you away from the quarters, earning shocked and disapproving stares from the patrons. He didn’t care what people thought was happening; he just wanted to get out of this place and think. And talk to you. 

Reaching the entrance, only one guard was waiting, who gave Wonwoo a curt nod before placing you in the tube, raising you slowly to the outside world. 

‘Wonwoo, my ship—”

“Has already been taken care of,” he interrupted. “Did you forget I’m the one who taught you how to navigate an Umbra ship?”

He pulls you onto his ship, the wind howling furiously behind him as another snowstorm starts to commence. He sits you down on one of the chairs, strapping you in tightly across your chest and shackling your feet at the bottom. His heart is pounding heavily in his chest, a drumbeat of anxiety as he fights the urge to return your gaze while he is so close to your face, your lips. 

“Wonwoo,” you said weakly. “I’m really sorry.” 

“You’ve already said that,” he muttered. “I’ve heard it enough.” 

Moving swiftly, he closed the doors and booted up the spaceship before settling into the commander’s seat. The melodic sounds of the buttons being pressed momentarily distracted him as he focused on safely lifting off the ground and into the galaxy. Usually, he would have his usual crew of Mingyu and Soonyoung with him, but this was a mission he wanted to undertake alone. You were intelligent, quick, and a skilled shooter, and he didn’t want to take the risk of you hurting someone else and escaping again. It pained him to think of you that way.

Once you were safely in the air, he set the ship on autopilot and kicked his feet up on the dash as it navigated through the dark blue sky. Within a day's time, they would be back in Adamas City, where you would have to stand in front of Aeron and answer for what you did. This whole situation was gnawing at him; the family he found was being split apart, and the only reconciliation could come through death. Wonwoo hadn’t felt this kind of pain since his parents died, and he shuddered to think about life without you in it. You were his sun, his moon, and a world without you in it wasn’t something he could bear. 

Instead of talking to you, baring his feelings and putting everything on the line, he remained silent, watching the planets go by while he nursed a broken heart. 

“Where are we?”

16 hours have passed since you left Glacius, and the ship doors open to a planet that is not Galaxia. It is small, round, and rocky with multiple pit stops, restaurants, and a main hotel that stands higher than the planet, if you had to guess.

“East Eaoros XII, specifically Requim,” Wonwoo responds. “You haven’t been here before, but this is where you go to refuel your ships and rest before you go to your next destination.” 

“Oh…” you nod. “I see.” 

Wonwoo pulls a blanket over you, assumingly to cover your handcuffed hands to not draw attention to you. You catch a whiff of his cologne when he wraps it around your arms, his close proximity sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. For a brief moment, your eyes meet, but he quickly looks away. His brown eyes are filled with sadness, yet they still radiate love for you.

“I think we should rest… You know, before we go back to Adamas City.” 

“Okay.” 

He leads you out of the ship and closes it with the remote in his pocket, walking towards the hotel. It is a ten-story building with nothing special about it, resembling a regular hotel. The interior was no different, with the typical mahogany-colored walls and shiny white floors that were supposed to exude luxury. You stood silently as Wonwoo checked into his reservation, listening to the conversations of the guests that walked by, oblivious that they were standing next to the most wanted person in the galaxy. 

“Let’s go.” 

He shoves the room keys into his pocket, and you follow him to the elevator, watching as he presses number ten on the pad. You passed each floor with a hum, the tension between you two thick and suffocating. You have so much to say, but your throat tightens every time you start. If today is truly going to be your last day in this galaxy, you want Wonwoo to know the truth, and no matter what, you love him deeply. 

The elevator dings on the tenth floor, opening to a grand suite that overlooks the city. Expansive picture windows, a spacious living room with a luxury kitchen, and two rooms that were presumably where you would be sleeping tonight. Wonwoo slips the blanket off of you, throwing it over his shoulder and walking you to the living room. For your last night of freedom, he went all out. If anything, you expected a standard room with two twin beds, a TV, and, if you’re lucky, a mini fridge.

“This was the only room they had left,” Wonwoo stated, as if he were reading your thoughts. “And I really need the rest… and so do you.”

You gaze at him, your words caught in your throat and keeping you from saying how you truly feel. You took a deep breath, sliding one of the dining room tables with your foot and sitting down, your head cocked back as you take in the A/C. You feel his presence nearby, his shadow looming over you as goosebumps rise on your arms. He takes your hands, unlocks the handcuffs, and briefly rubs your wrists before letting go. You know you’ve hurt him, and it’s your cross to bear whatever he throws at you, but he still took the time to take your pain away. 

“How do you know I won’t run?”

He studies you, putting the handcuffs and keys in one of the duffle bags. “If you wanted to run, you would’ve been out of the cuffs without my help.”

Your lips slightly twitch, knowing that once again, he is right. “Touche.”

Wonwoo hands you your duffle bag full of clothes, pointing to the bathroom in the room on the left. “You should go ahead and shower while we’re here.”

You nod slowly, walking into the bedroom and shutting the door. It had a king sized bed and soft satin sheets, a couple of fake plants in the window for personality and a large chess drawer with a mirror in front. You hear Wonwoo shuffling in the living room for a while, a light harmony escaping his lips that softens your heart. 

You remember when he sang soft lullabies in your ear, thinking you were sleeping, his raspy vocal tone soothing to your soul. You miss your late nights and late mornings, when you were either in his arms or underneath him. You miss his intimacy, his protection, his raw love, which he showed you in different ways that made you want to stay and live. Wonwoo is your whole world, your lifeline, and you're proud to say you’ve never loved anyone before him, and it's an honor to be loved by him in return. 

You step into the bathroom, turning on the shower, wincing as you slowly undress. The straps from the belts on the ship were too tight, and you felt them tightening against your skin as each hour passed. It’s left you with bruises across your chest, nothing too serious, but enough to feel when you move. You didn’t complain, you’ve had worse injuries before, and it seems so minuscule compared to the pain that you’ve caused. The only thing that mattered was being here with him and making the most out of it. 

“Wonwoo,” you call out, inhaling the steam quickly filling the bathroom. Your heart beats a drum of suspense, overriding your head, and what could blow up in your face. You can’t think straight, your thoughts are jumbled, and above all, you don’t want to be alone.

A few seconds later, he rushes into the bathroom, his eyes full of panic. 

“C-can you just hold me please?” Your voice trembles. “I know you hate me and I really fucked up but I don’t want to be alone.”

His gaze softens at your words, and he slips off his glasses, undressing without hesitation. Wonwoo is a muscular man with his own scars and battles, and you could recall how he got each one.  Stepping into the shower stall with you, he noted your bruises, his eyes welling up as he examined each one. “Did I do this?”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know—”

“NO, it’s not okay!” His raised voice makes you jump. “God, Silver, it’s like you don’t trust me anymore.”

His words pierce your heart, triggering a cascade of tears you can no longer hold back. You’ve been strong all this time, running throughout the galaxy to complete your last mission alive and eliminate Aeron. But your soul is tired, and Wonwoo is one of the few people you can depend on, and yet you keep hurting him. 

He pulls you into his arms as you continue to cry, the warm water from the shower head beating over both of you. You feel protected and safe, as if you are finally home and can lay down your burdens. You don’t regret trying to kill Aeron, and you would do it again in a heartbeat, but you regret not including him in on this. You will forever be sorry about it. 

“I don’t deserve you,” you blurt out, gazing at him. “You deserve someone who isn’t fucked up like me—”

Wonwoo kissed you ravenously like a starved man. He didn’t intend to go in so strong, but hearing you talk down about yourself, he hated it. He just wants to kiss your pain away. 

“I couldn’t hate you if I tried.” He whispered. “I love you, okay? Nothing will ever change that.”

You were beautiful to him, with many layers and flaws that he didn’t care about. Yes, he was upset that you hadn’t trusted him, but he also knew YOU, and understood you wouldn’t have acted that way without proof. He was hopelessly and deeply in love with you, and his heart was telling him to trust you. You had grown up together and had seen every side of each other. There was no way he would ever give up on you, Aeron or not.

He kissed you again, and he found himself caught in a rapture of love, his hunger and need for you superseding any logical thought or need. He touched you like he was trying to reclaim all the time you had been apart. Your nails dug into his back when he sucked your neck, leaving you more bruised. 

“Sorry, baby,” he said in between breaths. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you shook your head. “Do what you want.”

He felt himself hardening against your leg, and he instinctively started stroking himself, sending electric jolts throughout his body. His lips slightly parted, the thought of being inside of you and feeling your warmth around him, cumming for him over and over almost sends him into an abyss. 

You slowly get on your knees, moving his hand, rubbing his shaft, and giving his tip a soft kiss. Wonwoo watched as you took over, bobbing your head back and forth as you sucked him inch by inch, never breaking eye contact. He loved the way you twirled your tongue around his cock, the wet slurping sounds coming from your pretty mouth was music to his ears. It made his toes curl, turning him animalistic as his hands grasped your head and pulled it tightly. 

"You feel so good baby", he muttered against the wall. "I missed you."

You nodded fervently, increasing your pace and skillfully deepthroating him while he was in ecstasy. Watching his cock go in and out of your mouth, drops of spit coming out of your mouth was a sight to see. You sucked him earnestly like you owed him, and he felt that. But little did you know, Wonwoo is the one who owes you, for keeping him alive all this time.

“Get up,” he gritted his teeth, reluctantly pulling you off of him. 

He helped you off the ground and pressed your back against the tiled wall, the warm water hitting your breasts and falling on the curves of your stomach. The smell of vanilla on your skin is intoxicating, stirring in his chest a need for you and your taste. His fingers brushed against your nipples, your sensitive buds hardening at his touch. He sucked on them softly, his tongue swirled around each nipple, earning a hard moan from your lips. He loved the way your body responded to him. You were like a siren, your moans enticing to him as he sucked on them harder and putting him under your spell. 

“God, Wonwoo,” you whined. 

“I know, baby, I know.” 

His lips traveled lower to your abdomen, leaving a trail of kisses on your soft stomach as he made his way to your center. His mouth salivated as he saw your flowering bud, bringing back memories of his tongue inside of you for the first time at the Sanctuary. You were creamy and tasted like heaven, and he’s been addicted to your sweetness ever since.

“You’re so beautiful.” 

He dived in without any warning, sucking on your clit and spreading your legs. He was on his knees, devouring your center like this was the last time. He yearned to feel your cum on his tongue, to swallow everything that you had to offer him. He was a desperate man in love, and willing to do anything to make you satisfied. 

“Shit,” you sighed, your hands caressing his hair. “You feel so good.”

Wonwoo grinned against your folds, giving your clit another kiss before hiking your leg up, slipping two digits inside of you. He watched as you bit your lip in anticipation, slowly working his fingers in and out of you. HIs lips found your clit again, fingering and sucking you while your hips slow whined into a seductive rhythm. He loved watching you lose control, your legs shaking and your stomach tightening as the pressure built up in your abdomen. He didn’t slow down when he knew you were cumming, instead he increased the pace, wanting to see you explode over his face and fingers. 

“Wonwoo, I...”

Your sentence ended in a high-pitched moan, your fingers grasping his hair tightly as you erupted. He slowly slipped out his fingers, drunk on your sugarness, as he slurped everything you had to offer him. He didn’t stop until you lightly slapped his face, your unspoken yellow light when you needed to catch your breath. Standing up from the shower, the warm water hit his back as he faced you, pulling you into another kiss. Your lips curved into a smile, your eyes shone brightly into his as if nothing more needed to be said. 

But he said it anyway. 

“I love you.” 

You nodded slowly, bringing your hand down and stroking his cock near your entrance. His eyebrows raised, and you smirked, kissing his face lightly before turning around and pressing your chest against the wall. “You know what to do.”

His hands found your hair, wrapping it around his fist as he slid the head of his cock inside of you. He entered you slowly, knowing you were still ripe with overstimulation, despite your body saying otherwise. You pressed your ass against him, goading him to go keep as possible. Your hips rolled in a way that made Wonwoo’s cock twitch, and with one grunt he place his hand on your left hip and started to fuck you. Hard. 

“Please.” 

He knew exactly what your body craved, hitting you with deep, long strokes that made you quiver, your hands reaching for him and digging into his legs. You didn’t want to be handled like a princess tonight; you wanted to be fucked until there was nothing left. He felt your hunger, your ache, your eagerness to make your pain go away. He loved the way your walls tightened around him when he kissed the back of your neck. Wonwoo has studied you for a long time, and he knew exactly what you needed. 

He lets go of your hair, sliding his hand down to your throat and tightening his grip. Your body began to shake, and he thrusted into you harder, your wet skin slapping against his as you moved in harmony with each other. Your moans turn into a sirenic scream, your warm essence drowning his cock as you shudder, your eyes rolling in the back of your head.  Wonwoo didn’t last long after that, letting out a long mewl before emptying himself inside of you, coating your walls with his load. You’re both breathless, the water still warm as ever as it rinses away the mess that was made. Kissing you on your shoulder, Wonwoo pulls you off the wall, turning you around and moving a part of your silver hair out of your face. 

“We need to talk,” you muttered, looking down at the floor. 

“I know,” Wonwoo nodded, feeling his chest constrict at the dreaded conversation. “Let’s get cleaned up first.

A few hours later, you were sitting on the couch, watching the shooting stars go back and forth outside the window. After your shower, your energy was gone, and so you took a nap, promising to get up in an hour. Wonwoo let you sleep in and, at some point, laid in bed with you, as you woke up with his arms wrapped around your waist.  His light snores were peaceful, and you wondered if he dreamed like you did, where you were happy, without the threat of Aeron looming over your shoulder with a wedding ring on your finger and a baby in your stomach. Maybe in another life, you can get this back. 

“Hey.”

Wonwoo walks into the living room with sleepy eyes and messy hair, unfolding his glasses and sliding them on. He takes a seat next to you, pulls you into his arms, and gazes at the stars together. For the first time in days, you finally feel at peace, able to breathe easily with the limited time you have left.

“I can’t believe this is the last time I’ll see this,” you say solemnly.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

You turn to him and hold his hand tightly. “You know Aeron isn’t going to let me go alive.”

Aeron is a pitbull with a grudge that could go on for a thousand years. You’ve seen what he’s done to people who have pissed him off for less. You aren’t going to believe in some miracle or the greater good; you know better than that. He’s never laid a hand on you as many times as you’ve disobeyed him growing up, but you’ve never tried to kill him either. God, you wish you didn’t miss. 

Wonwoo rubs your shoulders, and you can tell he is thinking of a way to get out of this and take care of you, like he always does. “Who sent you the files and the evidence?”

“It was Selene,” you disclosed. “She was best friends with my mother, and she knew Aeron growing up as well.” 

You explained everything that Selene told you, even down to the box of mementos that was left in her quarters. Wonwoo listened, never interrupting and taking in everything you said. You saw anger flash in his dark eyes, and you are thankful you aren’t the reason behind that. 

“He created this whole, elaborate plan just to keep himself from facing judgment, from facing me,” you pointed at your chest. “He has to know that I would’ve killed him if I found out.” 

You think back to Glacius, looking at the photos of your mother’s childhood, happy and oblivious to the future she faced. You remember sleeping happily to your mother’s framed memories and waking up to Wonwoo pulling you back into reality… how did Wonwoo know where you were?

“Hey,” you say abruptly. “How did you know where I was?”

A fleeting look of shame crosses Wonwoo's face, prompting you to withdraw your hand as an eerie feeling coils in your chest. “Jeon Wonwoo, I swear to God—”

“Your ring,” he blurts out, looking at your left hand. “I’ve been able to track you with your ring.”

It didn’t hit you right away. You looked down at your engagement ring, a symbol of love and a promise of your future together that he gave you on the last day of the year, down on one knee at the Sanctuary. There is no way he would taint that memory with a lie, right?

“You must be talking about another ring…” Your voice trails off. “Surely you aren’t talking about this ring on my finger?!”

“Silver, let me explain—”

“Really, Wonwoo?!” You leap off the couch, yanking the ring off your finger while he watches wide-eyed. “It’s bad enough I have Aeron lying to me, but I would never think in a million eons that you would be capable of this, giving me a fake ring—” 

“Silver, STOP!”

His voice roars through the suite, sending chills down your spine. The heat of anger and betrayal that had fueled your fire suddenly evaporates. Anything else you wanted to say dies in your throat, your lips pressed tight in a mix of confusion and disbelief as you wave your hand, urging him to continue.

“That ring was made from the finest jeweler in the Nova District, and I personally picked out the stones in the lab. I would never, EVER, give you a fake ring, and I’m really offended you would think I would do that.” Wonwoo motions for you to sit down, and reluctantly, you sit. 

“Remember when we had the mission in the Xaros Forest and we were attacked by the wild boars there? Remember when we got separated and I couldn’t find you for days?” 

You think back to that particular mission from a year ago, as you were sent there to bring in a wanted fugitive and were met with the wild beasts. While fending them off, you were cut by one of them and almost died, bleeding out in the field. A native of that land saw what happened and stopped the bleeding in their cave, leaving you separated from Wonwoo and the rest of the hunters for seven days. Eventually, that native led Wonwoo to you, and you had never seen him look so terrified; the agony etched on his face upon seeing your condition was unforgettable.

“Those seven days were the worst days of my life,” Wonwoo laments. “I didn’t know if you were dead, alive, but held captive, and I never wanted us to be in that position again. So I placed a tracker on the band of the ring, so if you disappeared again, I would find you.”

You search his eyes for any hint of deceit, but deep down, you know he was telling the truth. Wonwoo could be a lot of things, but a liar he is not. The truth is, this Aeron situation has made you go out of your mind. If someone you looked up to could lie to you like that, or the scientist you did jobs for knew secrets and kept them from you, what’s to say Wonwoo wouldn’t do the same?

“I just wish you had told me, talked to me first,” you sigh heavily. “I would’ve done anything you wanted.”

“I don’t think you should be lecturing me on trust, Silver.”

His words hit you like an arrow to the chest, and you had no comeback for that. He was right. 

“Put your ring back on, please,” Wonwoo says softly. “If you want me to take off the tracker, I will.”

You study him for a moment, the familiar look of pain you keep causing on his face. You slowly slide the ring back on your finger, feeling like shit. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says, getting up and pulling you into a hug. “I should’ve talked to you about it first. You’re right.”

You nod on his chest, listening to his heartbeat drum against your ear as the living room falls silent, sans your loud, grumbling stomach. 

“We have room service here. Go ahead and order something.”

He kisses your forehead and untangles himself from you, going into the other room and quietly shutting the door. You go into the kitchen and browse the menu, settling on two burgers and fries with drinks, since you know Wonwoo is going to want the same thing. After you enter your order, you sit at the table, alone with your thoughts and everything that has happened. Shortly after, Wonwoo exits the room, his face red with anger. 

‘What’s wrong?” You get up slowly. 

“It’s Aeron,” he said bitterly. “He wanted to know if I captured you.”

You feel your heart sink into your chest, collapsing back in your chair. Reality is setting in, and tonight will be the last day you will be alive. But at least you will have your day to confront him in person, to look him in the eyes and make him confess to everything he did. 

“The way he’s been talking to me every time I bring up what he did… It’s like I don’t matter. Just another body under The Organization.”

Wonwoo looks dejected and hurt, like a boy who's lost his father. You wrap him up in your arms, letting him squeeze you tight in the solace that he needs. 

“Baby, I have a plan,” he says, “And it may not work, and it could get us both killed. But I need you to trust me.” 

You release him and gaze into his eyes, placing your hand across his heart. “I trust you completely. What are you thinking?”

The rain pours as you land in Adamas City, and the wind is violent like it knows what today is: your judgment day. 

The last twelve hours you spent with Wonwoo on East Eaoros XII all seem like nothing but a memory now, the anxiety eating at your stomach as you face the unknown about your future. Wonwoo was careful leading you out of the ship in handcuffs, meeting Soonyoung and Mingyu at the doors before heading inside The Hightower. Soonyoung and Mingyu give you sympathetic looks, walking you to the elevators and standing on each side as you walk in. Wonwoo swipes his badge and presses the button to floor 77, where Aeron awaits you both. 

“Are you ready for this?”

You look at Wonwoo, and despite his calm demeanor, his brown eyes reveal that he is worried. You lean in, quickly kissing him and interlocking your pinky with his. “I’m as ready as I can be.” 

The elevator dings at 77, the doors opening to Aeron’s office, a swanky 7000 square feet of space that held business meetings, promotions, and if you were on his bad side, your last breath. 

“I’ve been expecting you.” 

Before you could react, a fist connected to your left cheek, sending you flying into one of the tables. You stagger, facing the 6’5” man with olive skin, a muscular build, and piercing eyes ready to kill. 

“You thought you could shoot me and get away with it?!”

He swings another punch, but you're nimble, ducking just in time. Your eyes catch a bottle of dark liquor on his desk, and with a swift motion, you hurl it at him like a Frisbee. Aeron raises his arm to block it, the glass shattering and slicing into his skin, shards splattering across his face. You see Wonwoo reach for his gun, but you shake your head, determined to be the one to send him out of this world.

You search wildly for anything that could free you from the cuffs, adrenaline surging as you fight for your life. You don’t hear Aeron’s approach until it’s too late; suddenly, you’re lifted off the ground and violently slammed down, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs. With merciless fury, Aeron unleashes a torrent of insults, calling you every foul name imaginable while you struggle to gather your thoughts on the hard, unforgiving carpet.

“And I bet it was that bitch Selene who tipped you off,” he spits. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her next.” 

“Leave her out of it,” You croak. “She had the guts to tell me the truth, and not hide behind my mother’s memory like some little bitch.”

Aeron’s roar could be heard several floors below. He marched over to your direction, but he was cut off by Wonwoo, standing squarely in front of you. “Enough, Aeron.” 

“Boy, get out of my way,” Aeron growls, rolling up his sleeves, attempting to go around Wonwoo. 

Wonwoo stood his ground, pushing him out of the way while giving you a chance to sit up and catch your breath. Aeron’s head tilts in disbelief, but instead of going after him, he saunters over to his desk, pulling out a cigar from his drawer. “I could use a break anyway.”

Slumping into his chair, Aeron lights up his cigar and takes one long puff, his eyes fixing on Wonwoo as he examines your swollen left cheek. 

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks softly. 

“I’m fine,” you assure him. “It’s going to take a lot more than this to take me out.”

“You were always pussy-whipped,” Aeron chuckles at his desk. “She could ask you to leap into traffic, and you would do it, no questions asked.”

Wonwoo didn’t respond, instead looking at the time on his watch and moving to your right side. You would be a liar if you said you weren’t in pain. You haven’t sparred with Aeron in years, let alone a real fight. He caught you off guard, and you underestimated his strength, and now you have a sore back and limbs to show for it. It’s not like he got away scot-free, the cuts of glass being the only blow that you could land while handcuffed. 

“Why did you do it, Aeron?” you speak up. “Why did you kill my mother? My family?”

You watch him as he takes another puff of his cigar, exhaling the thick smoke out of his mouth. 

“She was supposed to be mine, always,” he reveals. “I’ve loved your mother since the first time I laid eyes on her. She loved me too, ya know. Our love transcended time, and we would be happy together if she didn’t get married to that father of yours.” 

“I know about the affair, and she wanted to end it.” Your voice is low. “Why didn’t you just leave her be? Why did we all have to die? Why fake a gas leak?”

His hands twitch, fingers curling into fists before releasing. “Because she broke her promise to me,” his voice trembled. “She was only supposed to love me. We were going to figure out how to get her out of her marriage so we could finally be together, and I would raise you as my daughter. However, she fell in love with that man and wanted to make it work with him.” He gazes back at you, eyes wild with a mix of pain and fury. “I just couldn’t have that.” 

“So instead of moving on, you decided to kill us?” Your voice wavers, a lump forming in your throat as tears begin to blur your vision. “You were family to us, Aeron! How could you?”

“How could she? How could she love someone else? No, she did it to herself. Your family’s death is on her. I just facilitated the leak, that’s all.”

You stare at him incredulously, your body shaking in anger. You lost your family because Aeron couldn’t handle the thought of your mother being happy with someone else. He’s a bitch and a punk, and you can’t wait to put him down for good.

“Fuck you.” 

The telecast’s screen suddenly turns on, showing a livestream of the office and the three of you in it. The recording replays of Aeron assaulting you on entry, watching you fly across the room with a thundering smack to the face. You pinpoint how it was recorded, noting the camera moved every time Wonwoo did, realizing the pin Wonwoo was wearing was actually a hidden camera. Aeron’s eyes are wide with shock as the telecast is shown on the main public channels for everyone to witness. 

“What the hell is this?!”

Wonwoo silently releases the handcuffs while Aeron is distracted, whispering in your ear, “Do what you have to do.” 

Without hesitation, you grab Wonwoo’s gun, firing a shot into Aeron’s knee. He howls in pain, and without mercy, you shoot the other one, witnessing his face contort in agony and surprise.

“Those two? Are for Dipper and Umi,” you declare, your voice laced with vengeance. 

The gun recoils in your hand again, sending a bullet into Aeron's stomach. “That was for my dad, who was ten times the man you ever were.” 

With a perfect aim, you shoot one more shot, a fatal blow to his heart. “And that is for my mother, you piece of shit.” 

You watch the life leave his body, his eyes glassy and his tongue rolled out of his mouth like the dog he is. The alarms suddenly start blaring, the lights in the office flashing red. 

“We have to go.” 

Wonwoo pulls you out of the office and into a hidden stairwell, racing up to the roof where the helipad is located. When Wonwoo told you about his plan, you weren’t sure he could pull it off, as it involved many moving pieces. But just like you had friends in different places, so did he. Mingyu and Soonyoung were in on it, standing guard and making sure no one got in the way. Conveniently, they would also be the ones to sound off the alarm to cover up their tracks. He planned to have you leave the city while he cleaned up this mess, publicly and behind the scenes. Since Aeron is dead and Wonwoo is his adopted son on paper, Wonwoo is now the head of The Organization. 

He opens up the door leading to the roof, and there awaits a ship, ready to go. What he didn’t tell you was who was going to be navigating the ship, and you have never been happier to see your best friend. 

“Happy to see me?” Jeonghan smirked in the commander’s seat. 

“Always a pleasure,” you say, looking around the ship. “Where’s So—”

“She’s… with a friend,” Jeonghan finishes your sentence. “We need to leave now before the guards come.”

You nod sharply and turn to Wonwoo, who’s looking at you with a mix of awe and sorrow. The realization hits hard: this might really be the last time you see him until things chill out. All those moments you fought for just to end up on the brink of another goodbye—it feels so wrong. Frustration bubbles up inside you. It shouldn’t be like this; none of this is fair. You should be together, not caught in this mess, forced apart when all you want is to hold on.

“Remember what I told you at the Hightower when we passed our tests?”

You could never forget anything about that day. It was the first time you kissed him, and one of the best nights of your life. “You said I was a force of nature.” 

“That’s right, baby,” he says, tears welling up in his eyes. “We’re going to get through this together, and I will find you, okay?”

You point at your engagement ring, and he nods, and he meets your gaze, leaning in to kiss you deeply. A flood of emotions washes over you, your own tears spilling out of your eyes, as you draw him in tighter, breathing in his scent one last time. 

“I’m sorry to cut in here, but we have to go,” Jeonghan calls out from his seat. 

Reluctantly breaking away, you leave him with one last kiss, wiping his tears away and letting go of his hands. 

“I love you, Silver.”

You nod as he exits the ship, your heart feeling lighter with the resolve that you will see him again. Instead of saying goodbye, you leave him with a promise: 

“See you, space cowboy.”

(epilgoue)

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[tempestaurora]

in light of the final chapter i wanna add that i think rei should've got the same attention as him. that i think one of the fatal flaws of this series is how storylines are ignored or dropped or just not given time because the central cast is 30+ characters strong.

rei should've had her monologues and flashbacks and chances to make changes in her life. we should've gotten to see what the hospital was like for her - i never understood if endeavor put her in there or if she did it herself. was she allowed to leave or forced to stay? there should've been time spent on her and her feelings, her life, her children. and at the end, she should've had the time and space on the page to say why the hell she was staying with endeavor, and pushing him around his wheelchair, or if she wanted to leave

endeavor is a deeply complex and interesting character imo, and shoto and touya are just as interesting. i think its a shame that we didn't get time spent on natsuo, fuyimi and rei, because their stories would've also been really interesting to read about.

that fatal flaw damages everything in my hero i think - every story could've done with more time to stretch its wings, but because there were just so many other characters, all of them are dropped too soon

bold of me to say something with nuance on the no nuance website but like. I fucking love endeavor. I think he's top 5 most interesting chapters in my hero. a man blinded by desire and ambition destroying his family in pursuit of perfection only to never reach the number one spot until number one vacates. its unearned, in some ways, he's been earning it for two decades in others. and then his youngest child, his perfect creation to take over from him when he's done being almost perfect himself, tells him that he's wrong. that he's a monster and he did bad things, and he tailspins. his eldest is alive with a grudge. his wife is getting better in the hospital he put her in. his daughter wants to make them a happy family, his third son wants to never see him again. he destroyed the thing that shouldve mattered most and didn't realise how important it was until it was already shattered.

and yet.

time and time again. he commits to atoning.

he's fucked everything beyond belief. he has permanently damaged multiple people he shouldve been caring for. and he sees it. and recognises it. and apologises. he tries to do better and be better and spend time with them and give them space and builds them a new home that he doesn't live in and tries like hell to stop and save his eldest all at once. and he just keeps going. even in the aftermath, in the epilogue, he recommits to atoning again. he will show up every single day to talk to his dying son, even after all the harm that son has caused. because of all the harm that son has caused. because he wouldn't be this way had endeavour loved him properly. because he does love him, and he may be unrecognisable in almost all ways, but that's still his son and he's been given a second chance with the boy he thought he'd lost forever.

and frankly, I want atonement for him. for that family. I want him to do better and I want them to be able to find peace and move on and forgive him and want to be around him again. I want them to be there when touya finally flatlines and I want them to find comfort in each other. I want endeavor to use this second chance to the best of his abilities and love and support his family in the way he failed time and time again to do. because he WANTS to do better, he WANTS to be better. and I think he's fully capable of it, especially when the top of the mountain is no longer begging for his attention. he can now see that the mountain could've been a worthy, honorable climb, but he didn't make it one.

and fuck, man, but I want him to be able to have a good life after this. he wants to atone, and he is the sort of man who follows through on the things he wants.

[uglygreenjacket]

It's not about the ship.

A majority of us BKDKs never believed the ship would become canon. That was never really on the table.

What it is about, is 10 years of character and relationship development completely nuked for the establishment of a different relationship that had faded into the background at best for a lot of that time.

Izuku and Katsuki are important to one another. There's zero denying that. Katsuki died for Izuku. All of his scars come from protecting Izuku in one way or another. Katsuki was devastated when he learned of OFA's loss. He worked for eight years to make sure Izuku could live out his dream.

Izuku has looked up to Katsuki since they were children. He lost the plot multiple times when Katsuki was insulted or in trouble. Shigraki himself said Katsuki was closer to Izuku than anyone else.

And all of that development brought us zero discussions about what they've been through. No talk about the impact of Katsuki's death. No talk of Katsuki's apology. No talk about Izuku's feelings about the demise of his dream. Instead, we got Izuku rejecting the idea of being partners with Katsuki, something his character for the entirety of the series would have undoubtedly loved.

Yes, people can grow apart. But show me that. Give me background on why. Give me something, anything that would explain why the Izuku at the end of the epilogue is in diametric contrast to the Izuku we saw at the end of chapter 430.

These two characters mean so much to me. I don't see myself in their story, but the love (whether platonic or otherwise) and care that they show for each other speaks to me so deeply. Katsuki's growth as a person and Izuku's acceptance of and willingness to forgive Katsuki no matter what speaks to me so deeply, and to see that thrown away stings.

It's not about the ship. It was never really about the ship.

[barrenclan]

Alone in the middle of a desolate wasteland, BarrenClan is a hardy and irritable group of cats. They have lived there for generations, and eke out survival in this unforgiving land. But one of their new apprentices, the bold and curious Pinepaw, is determined to discover the terrible truths buried under the sand, as well as rise to meet the changes coming to his Clan.

"Pinepaw and the Forgotten World" was a Warriors-inspired illustrated prose comic that ran on this blog from September 2022 - February 2025. As it is currently completed, this blog will contain MAJOR spoilers for the comic. If you are a new reader, please use the "Next" link below to be taken to the cover of this project. You can also read a mirror of the project on ComicFury, linked below. Navigational tags and other information are tagged below on this post as well.

Next >

ComicFury mirror

Yes, you have my permission to use a style and/or format inspired by this comic for your own projects. 

This comic is not based on the text-based game ClanGen/LifeGen. It was based off the Clan Generator challenge, which you can see in this video.

Helpful tags for navigating this blog (click on the search icon):

#issue: a list of all the completed issues. Use this tag to only see issues of the comic. 

#reference: reference sheets for the characters. 

#lore: background information about the world of the comic. 

#extra art: drawings I create outside of the comic itself. 

#fanart: drawings other people have made for the comic.

Allegiances: Family Tree (spoilers)

PATFW Discord: https://discord.gg/y3hAGVbfUK

PATFW Playlist: Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0GZWVmucv2DvA4H7uLwquk (Song Guide)

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLwTmUrr_9zUlCvQijucEkukNtiRpwktqs

Complete masterpost of issues, underneath Keep Reading link:

Issue 1 - Dry Heat and Cracked Earth

Issue 2 - I’ve Never Heard That Name Before

Issue 3 - Stupid Little Kit Daydreams

Issue 4 - It’s Just Like Falling Asleep 

Issue 5 - Smoke and Ash and Fire and Salt and Blood

Issue 6 - Healers Hear All The Secrets

Issue 7 - Foxholes Bite Back

Issue 8 - Do You Really Think That’s Your Destiny?

Issue 9 - It’s Only a Deer

Issue 10 - What Was That Now, Dear?

Issue 11 - We’re Held Together By Spiderweb

Issue 12 - The Shining Towns

Issue 13 - To Kill Is Right. To Kill Is Good. To Kill Is To Live.

Issue 14 - The Rotten Stench of Blood

Issue 15 - Was It Something I Did?

Issue 16 - I Bet You Can’t Catch Me

Issue 17 - You Are the Darkness Before the Storm

Issue 18 - I Met Him Under a Warm Dawn

Issue 19 - Kindness for the Dying Is Easy to Spare

Issue 20 - KITTENS! KITTENS! KITTENS!

Issue 21 - Lovebug

Issue 22 - A Favor for a Favor

Issue 23 - Your Voice Was So Soft

Issue 24 - Lost In a Haze

Issue 25 - You Don’t Speak to My Daughter That Way

Issue 26 - My Heart Is Too Heavy to Sleep

Issue 27 - Little Paws Take Little Steps

Issue 28 - Viscera, Shiny in the Light of Day

Issue 29 - We’re Not So Different, You and I

Issue 30 - Time Is a Circle

Issue 31 - Blood

Issue 32 - Cassandra

Issue 33 - Hurt Me! Beat Me! Just Please Don’t Leave Me!

Issue 34 - Sunset Days

Issue 35 - The Death of BarrenClan: Part One

Issue 36 - The Death of BarrenClan: Part Two

Issue 37 - The Death of BarrenClan: Part Three

Issue 38 - The Death of BarrenClan: Part Four

Issue 39 - The Death of BarrenClan: Part Five

Issue 40 - Aftermath

Issue 41 - Oracles

Issue 42 - Our Lasting Legacy

Issue 43 - Farewell, and I Love You

Epilogue 1 - The Last Ruby-Red Drop of Flame

Epilogue 2 - Moth-Soft Murmurings

Epilogue 3 - A Dream, A Nightmare

Epilogue 4 - Sunlight Here and Shadows There

Epilogue 5 - Gold Flowers

Epilogue 6 - Binary Star

Epilogue 7 - While You Were Dead

Epilogue 8 - The Ash of Memory

Epilogue 9 - A Rule of Fear

Epilogue 10 - The Vaster World

[stalkedbytrains]

A Child of Ravens

Ravens are feared by everyone. From the barbarian nomads in the desert wastes, to the mountain kings both above and below the stone. The horse-lords fear the black birds just as their bitter rivals the Barons of the Plains.

They all know that ravens are not like other birds. They are smarter, more cunning than any other creature of the air. Some say they are even smarter than the smartest trained hound. Their feathers are key components in black magic. The birds themselves are harbingers of death, pestilence, and curses.

Beware the unkindness of ravens. Wherever they gather bad luck is destined to follow.

Hand-in-hand with the fear of ravens comes a fear and hatred of any who carry the feathers of the cursed bird. Those that hold onto them are almost certainly practitioners of the black magic of ravens. And the only ways to get a feather from a raven are to trap one and pluck it, or be gifted a feather. And those that held favor with a raven are more feared that those foolish enough to try and trap one.

Every summer the Ravenswood would empty of its denizens. Hundreds of ravens would fly out from their ancient cospe. They’d scatter in all directions, foretelling disease, famine, and the death of kings wherever they stopped.

The beginning of summer was always a tense time for the land. Every town and city and hamlet was ready for the worst, ready for a raven or two to descend. And each bastion of civilization was more than ready to chase away the cursed black birds when they appeared, or even kill those ravens that stuck around in some feeble attempt to save themselves from whatever curse they were lying upon the town.

However one town, one of the ones closest to the Ravenswood and the scrublands that bordered the Wastes didn’t see a raven, they saw a small child. Barely big enough to be considered a child, they had none of the awkward baby fat or childlike roundness that comes with being a well fed and cared for child. They were thin and long.

Careful consideration would put the child at seven or eight years old, but even that determination would require looking at the child for more than was necessary. There was something deeply unsettling about this mysterious wastrel. Their skin was white, but not the white of the Deep Mountain Lords, but white like bone. Their hair was long and tangled and black as the creeping death vine that haunts only the oldest wood. But it was the beggar child’s hands that concerned most people. They were black, and not like the skin of the Barons black, but black like tar. Black like the ravens.

The child danced into town one day, covered in ill-fitting, ill-repaired clothing. They were clearly poor and hungry, for no normal child would be so thin. They walked into town happily kicking pebbles and rocks to and fro across the moderately busy road. It was almost as if they had never experienced the joy of kicking things. Which was a normal joy for small children.

Around midday the child settled in to the middle of town, near the square, and started to beg. There were a few other orphaned children in this town, doing much the same thing. There was barely enough traffic to accommodate the beggar children. It was clear to the older ones that someone would get money or food and the rest would continue to starve.

The pale child with the stained hands started begging and it was immediately clear that this child would be a problem. Instead of offering meek gratitude and thanks at the offering of small coins or scraps of food, the child said nothing, just accepted the offering with a curious tilt of the head as they carefully inspected each thing they received.

It was becoming increasingly clear that this bizarre child couldn’t, or wouldn’t, speak. And eventually, as they settled into the routine of begging they began offering spells and other small crafts in exchange.

Even the townsfolk of this out of the way place recognized this as real magic and not the falsehood paraded around by travelers and circus-folk. This was real magic and it was something special. They manipulated shadows and made leaves dance in lines along the breath of wind.

But when someone offered an entire loaf of fresh bread to the starving child, did the child’s origins reveal themselves.

The child took the bread and immediately broke it into separate pieces for the orphans that had gathered around them. The older kids would have hit and bit anyone encroaching on their territory but this strange pale child was happy to share.

Once the bread was given out to the other orphans, the child stood up and bowed to the person who had given it. And in exchange for this great boon the child reached into their hair and plucked out a single black feather that had been there, unnoticed.

When offered to the kind soul, the benefactor recoiled in horror. “Raven feather!”

The shout was immediately followed by a wave of stunned silence. Most of the other orphans immediately scattered. A few stuck around because they didn’t want to leave what they thought as a sure thing for food and extra money.

The small child tried to offer the feather to the person a second time but that only resulted in them turning and fleeing, screaming for some sort of authority figure. The child sulked and kicked a pebble after the fleeing person before sticking the feather behind their ear.

To the two orphans that stayed near by finally saw that the wild tangle of black hair was littered with black feathers. And not in a way that suggested they were put there or stuck there, more like they grew there.

One of the orphans fled when the person who was gifted the raven feather returned, this time with more adults. The kind of adults that had that mean look to them, that would kick beggar kids out of their alleys or places along the road.

They quickly noticed the raven feathers in the child’s hair and recoiled.

An argument quickly broke out. The adults knew this kid was bad news, and that was enough for the last orphan to start backing away slowly. The raven child merely watched the adults with a very concerned expression and their head tilted slightly towards one side.

“Every since the royal family died under an entire conspiracy of ravens, you know the law. We have to execute anyone carrying raven feathers,” said one adult.

“I know the writ. I am the sheriff,” snapped another.

“Then do your job!”

“Do you want to execute a child!”

“That’s no child! It’s a raven wielding warlock! You saw the magic they were doing! They could do much worse! Probably!”

Finally, the raven child started to move, which worried the adults. One of them reached out to grab or stop them, but the child leapt back and let out a cry.

It was an almost pitch perfect mimic of a raven’s caw. And if the adults weren’t scared before they were now.

In a flash the adults had managed to get a single manacle locked around the child’s wrist, and connected it via a chain to the bell tower in the middle of the square, a hundred feet away. As they dragged the child, they struggled against the bond, cawing like mad, and throwing up shadows and things to try and get the adults to stop. Unfortunately the tiny magics were no match for the iron.

Once the child was chained and unlikely the escape the adults all retreated from the angry, cawing child. They whispered angrily among themselves in a steadily growing mob. Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed and instead of turning into an execution squad they moved into the large town hall and tavern to discuss the town’s collective next move.

The sun had started to set and the adults had all gone inside or far away from the trapped raven child. The only person to approach them was one of the orphans, the one that stuck by longer than the rest.

She was a messy girl of about eight years, covered in dust and dirt, and her clothes all frayed and worn. But they looked like they were once fancy and rich a long time ago. The dirt and street life didn’t diminish the large, gnarly scar across her neck that looked relatively fresh. She approached the raven child slowly, tentatively, as the trapped kid tried their best to pull the chain free or open the manacle.

Eventually the child tired themselves out and saw the orphan girl slowly approaching them. With their head tilted to one side they watched the girl without saying a thing.

She held out the piece of bread the raven child had given her.

They didn’t try to take it from her, so she gestured with it again, then she mimed eating the bread. The raven child nodded slowly.

The girl approached and put the bread on the ground and the backed off a few feet.

The captive eagerly reached out for the bread and tore at it. The girl thought of how much like a bird they were. They didn’t bring the bread fully to their mouth, they moved their head towards the bread.

The entire time the raven child didn’t take their eyes off the girl that offered them food. When they were done the orphan girl opened her mouth and with great pain spoke a single word in a voice that was as painful to hear as it was to use, “Talk?”

With a shake of their head the raven child only managed a quiet caw.

She offered a sad smile that seemed to say “me either”, and pointed at the scar across her neck.

An adult suddenly burst out of the town hall, and got on a horse before galloping out of town at top speed. That was the girl’s cue to leave. Best not to be seen by the adults helping the raven child if she wanted to get anything to eat tomorrow.

Night fell, and the girl found a nice rooftop to sleep on with a view of the town square. The poor raven child was still locked there, seemingly asleep under the tower. She felt bad, but there was nothing she could do.

The next day everyone avoided the bell tower and the raven child. When night fell again the girl from before returned with a small offering of food. She gave half to the raven child who smiled at her. It was a nice smile she decided.

For a couple of hours in the dead of night the two children tried in vain to pull the chain free. Even if there were two of them, they were still children, and were no match for the engineering of adults. After they tired themselves out, the raven child mimed sleeping and then pointed from the girl to the rest of town. The girl nodded, then made several gestures trying to convey that’d she’d be back tomorrow night too.

The next day was much the same, except around noon a bird flew overhead. And everyone in town stopped to watch it once it was pointed out. It was too high to see clearly at first, but as it circled closer everyone held their breath. They knew it was a raven, they were just hoping that somehow it wouldn’t turn out to be one of those cursed birds.

Sure enough, a raven landed on top of the bell tower. It cawed loudly at the chained up raven child, who responded in kind.

The villagers were growing increasingly tense as the two creatures communicated in a language that none of them knew.

Someone got the bright idea to start throwing stuff at raven who took off immediately and flew in an unnaturally straight line towards the Ravenswood.

“That executioner better get here soon!” yelled someone from the crowd.

A couple of the members of the tense town crowd tried to throw the rocks they held at the raven child, but they bounced off small walls of shadow.

Night fell and the girl returned with a meager amount of food to share. The appearance of the raven didn’t put people into a generous mood. She got more than a few kicks instead of food, but she was used to it by now.

After they pair ate their food in silence, they both tried to get the raven child free. But the wood of the bell tower was too sturdy, the chains too thick. But that didn’t stop them from trying until almost dawn.

The next day started with a clear sky, and the sun slowly rising out of the east. The townspeople were all tense, few words were said. The raven child was making everyone nervous, and the appearance of a full raven yesterday had worried everyone even more.

The sun was high and there was not a cloud in the sky. The summer heat was bordering on oppressive when someone spotted two riders in the distance.

Surely this would be the messenger and the executioner brought in from the capital. Someone with no worries about executing whatever black raven magic was manifesting as a child. Someone who could counter the curse they could feel was starting to settle over the town.

As the riders got closer, the sky started to get darker. Like a cloud had passed over the sun, but there were no clouds. There were large groups of ravens flying in. Groups from different directions. They were all approaching the town, and it looked like they would make it to town first.

An hour before the two riders appeared, every roof in town was covered in black birds. Ravens covered everything and each one was dead quiet. They were silent in the same way an army was immediately before a deadly surprise charge.

The two riders entered town. One the resident who had fled to the capital city for help, and the other an executioner complete with large, sharp ax.

The killer dismounted his horse and approached the town square. He carried himself with the confidence of a man who had been gifted great power through his faith in human government.

The ravens didn’t move.

Color seemed to be sucked out of the village. Everything was somehow muted, the only thing that stood out from the washed out colors of the dusty little town were the pure black ravens that were everywhere.

“By the power given to me by-” called the executioner loudly, reading from a piece of paper, but he didn’t get far. The ravens started cawing. Their sheer numbers, and their unnatural volume drowned out anything the executioner was trying to say.

He stopped and tried to start over, but he was no match for hundreds of ravens all cawing. Instead of trying to continue with his human orders, he pulled out the large ax he carried and brandish a holy symbol.

None of this stopped the ravens.

The executioner took several steps towards the raven child, still chained to the bell tower. He waved his holy symbol around like it meant something. But it paled in comparison to the heavy black shroud of the ravens.

As he walked forward all the ravens collectively took off into the air.

This didn’t deter him on his quest as he continued forward. But as a whole the ravens descended on the executioner. A black cloud of birds enveloped him as he tried to fight them off with his heavy ax.

Nothing hit the ravens. But when they scattered a few seconds later, the man was covered in cuts and blood. Minor wounds all, but not enough to stop the determined man.

He took a step forward and stopped. Blood was dripping into his eyes. He tried to wipe it away.

Ravens were cawing, even louder than before.

The executioner noticed that his hands were stained blacked. No it wasn’t his hands. It was the wounds. They looked like they had been infected with some sort of necromantic rot. It was in his skin.

The curse moved rapidly. His skin decayed, turning black and falling off like the burned edges of a page caught in a fire. He tried to step forward, but the curse spread from his skin to his muscles below it.

The ravens were beating their wings again.

The wind caught the executioner and carried away most of the meat of the man. He collapsed to the ground, little more than clothing and bone.

For a moment the entire town was utterly silent.

Then the people began to panic, they tried to flee the town, but the ravens once again took flight. As the people attempted to escape their town and fate, ravens blocked their path.

In the confusion the orphan girl with the scar dashed forward. She might have been relatively new to the begging business, but she learned quick. And picking someone’s pocket amid chaos was easy.

She grabbed the key to the raven child’s lock from the sheriff and ran to the middle of town. It was hard going, she was small and hungry and was fighting against a tied of terrified adults and well fed children.

Eventually she made it and made short work of the lock.

The raven child rubbed their wrist where the manacle once was. Then they looked up and took a deep breath. They cawed loudly and the entire town stopped.

The ravens settled once more. One flew out from their group and landed on the child’s shoulder.

The bird cawed softly to the child who responded just as quietly while the orphan stood awkwardly and tried not to stare.

The child reached out for the orphan with their black stained hands that looked eerily like the wounds on the dead executioner. But the girl held out her own hand.

For a second the raven child just held on to her hand. Their skin was dry but pleasingly warm. For some reason she expected it to be cold. They offered a smile and she smiled back, fleetingly for she knew the entire town was watching them. Then the raven child put three feathers pulled from their hair into the girl’s hand.

The raven child gestured with a feather, holding it between two fingers and blowing on it, till it was caught be a breeze. And then they pointed to themselves and then pointed to the girl and made a breaking motion with their hands.

She nodded as she understood. She now had three chances to call the raven child for help.

The raven on their shoulder cawed loudly and at once all the ravens took off into the sky. The two children walked quickly out of town, not stopped or hindered by any of the townspeople who were too scared to move.

Once they had left the town the ravens circled the village three times and followed the children.

A cloud settled over the town, a dark cloud. Hundreds of raven feathers fell upon the entire town, blanketing the everything in black.

The screams of terror could be heard for leagues.

Within six months the town would be nothing but a smoldering ruin. Those with sense would flee the town as quickly as possible, but they were never able to find land that would yield as many crops as any of their neighbors. Those who stayed found that their land was under constant raids by the barbarians to the west with little help from the government they put so much faith in. Those who survived the raids found a creeping blackness to the soil and the buildings that they tried to fight by burning the entire village to the ground.

Outside of town the two children parted ways. The girl bowed to the raven child, who smiled and bowed back.

The child of ravens pointed at themselves and then pointed to the ancient Ravenswood to the northwest. The girl nodded and pointed to herself and the east. She hoped to have better luck in the lands of the Barons of the Plains.

As they parted ways the girl took her three raven feathers and put them in her hair.

My kofi with all my stories

[cbeargyu]

跡継ぎの妻 – the heir’s wife – EPILOGUE

summary: you marry a stranger in silk—his lips stained with blood and tradition. what starts as a marriage of convenience between a yakuza heir and a public figure spirals into something neither of you were prepared for: protection that tastes like devotion, duty twisted with longing, and kisses that come too late to be innocent. in a world where bullets speak louder than hearts, love might be the most dangerous vow of all.

pairing: yakuza!yuta x model fem!reader

genre: mafia/yakuza au, arranged marriage, slow burn, angst, romance, family legacy, redemption arc, emotional healing, found family, power couple dynamic, smut-heavy, character-driven

warnings: explicit smut (multiple scenes), dom/sub dynamics, power play, breeding kink, degradation praise, spanking, explicit dirty talk, creampie, possessiveness, worship kink, rough sex, emotionally charged sex, soft aftercare, public display of dominance, mature themes, violence, blood, weapons, death of a sibling (mentioned), grief, guilt, trauma processing, complex power dynamics, yakuza activity (organized crime themes), arranged marriage (turned consensual), emotional manipulation, emotional dependency, toxic loyalty, gender roles (challenged), parenthood, tattoos/irezumi (traditional), symbolic death/rebirth, canon-typical violence, knife imagery, psychological tension.

wc: 2,3k

part i. part ii.

taglist: special dedication to this anon.

@beestvng @bamtor1sss @turtash @amazinggraxia @rubiiisyeon @doiestars @7dreambaby @joepomonerof @hanxxz @sunghoonsgfreal @evebionc @unlikelyeaglegirl @hyucksnctzen

by 2004, the house felt different.

not smaller, not quieter — just fuller. the halls that once echoed with tension now hummed with the sounds of daily life: children’s footsteps chasing one another down the engawa, the murmur of a radio left on in the kitchen, the rustle of sliding doors pulled open and shut by hands that had never known violence. it was the same house, the same bones, the same garden just outside — now blooming again with early summer peonies and camellias — but something had shifted permanently. there was warmth where once there had only been steel.

yuta had changed too.

not softened — never that. he still ruled with precision, still carried the weight of his name and history with that quiet, dangerous grace that made men straighten their spines when he entered a room. but he had grown into something more. not just the oyabun of a clan that had expanded and stabilized under his leadership, but a man who no longer ran from his past — a man who returned to the shrine every year on the same date, with a boy at his side whose hand fit almost perfectly in his own.

shotaro was seven now.

sharp-eyed, quiet like his father, though he laughed easier, with a crooked grin he hadn’t inherited from either of you. he asked questions constantly — about honor, about names, about the tattoos he was not yet old enough to understand. yuta answered them all, never speaking down to him, never sugarcoating. and when he’d asked last winter, in the soft hush of snowfall outside, why he was named after someone in the ground, yuta had knelt, placed a hand on his shoulder, and simply said, “because the man you’re named after taught me what it means to protect something. and now that name belongs to you.”

and then there was tsubaki.

your daughter had arrived two springs ago, born under the bloom of the tree you had planted after your wedding. her name meant “camellia,” a flower symbolic of strength, love, and resilience — one that thrived even in cold seasons, blooming when others withered. and she lived up to every syllable of it. bright, fearless, stubborn as rain — with your eyes and your temper, and yuta’s impossible ability to control a room without speaking. she had already declared, at the age of two, that she would marry no one unless they brought her three swords and a horse, which shotaro immediately promised to steal for her. neither of you corrected them.

riku still came by every sunday.

he had changed the most — at least on the surface. now living in a glass-and-gold penthouse high above namba, he had risen through the clan ranks with that same street-born cunning and loyalty that had once earned him the right to drive your car in silence. he wore imported suits now, changed women like watches, and arrived smelling of expensive cologne and nights without sleep. but he never missed a visit to his mother, never missed a birthday, never looked at your children without that same big-brother warmth that had once shielded you both from the world outside.

the clan had grown too.

under yuta’s leadership, it had evolved — not sanitized, never clean, but refined. operations were quieter now, more surgical, layered with strategy and diplomacy that reached far beyond osaka. territories were protected, alliances kept in balance, and his name no longer needed to be shouted to be known. in meetings, he still sat in silence more than he spoke, but when he did, the room fell still. and you — you were still at his side. not as a shadow, but as his reflection. you handled affairs that didn’t touch violence directly: the security of the women, the education of the next generation, the negotiation of small conflicts before they became large ones. sometimes your word alone was enough to prevent bloodshed. you had learned how to wield power without raising your voice.

tonight, the house was quiet again, the kind of quiet that only came after everyone had gone to sleep. the children had been tucked in hours ago, shotaro with his wooden sword beside the futon, tsubaki curled up with her face in your old wedding kimono — the red silk wrapped around her like a dragon’s embrace. you had lingered a moment longer in their room, brushing her hair back from her forehead, listening to the way yuta’s footsteps slowed outside the door before continuing on.

now, he waited for you in the bedroom, already half-undressed, the soft glow of paper lanterns casting long shadows across his back. the tattoos were still vivid, still beautiful, age only adding depth to the black and gray lines that curled over his shoulder blades like the memory of fire. his robe hung loose around his waist, his hands resting in his lap. when you entered, he looked up and smiled — not the smirk he gave the world, not the careful calm he used with the clan, but something smaller. reserved only for you.

“they asleep?” he asked.

you nodded, untying your robe.

“both,” you said. “though tsubaki was threatening to lead a coup if we didn’t let her sleep in our bed again.”

he laughed under his breath, eyes following the silk as it slipped from your shoulders.

“she gets that from you.”

“i get the blame for everything.”

“you get the credit, too,” he said, rising, crossing the room toward you. “for this house. for the way i survived myself. for both of them.”

he stopped in front of you, hands coming to your hips, mouth brushing your jaw.

“for making me want more than survival.”

you leaned into him, pressing your palms against his bare chest.

“and what do you want now, nakamoto?”

he didn’t answer with words.

he pushed you gently back onto the bed, his body following yours, one knee parting your thighs as his lips dragged across your collarbone, slow and unhurried. he worshipped you as he had that very first night — with a hunger honed by time, shaped by memory. his hands roamed the map of your body like it was the territory he had built everything on, his tongue tracing the edge of your tattoo before sinking lower.

“mine,” he whispered, voice low, rough. “still. always.”

you gasped as he filled you — deep and claiming — his pace slow but punishing, each thrust purposeful, each breath a promise. he didn’t have to ask permission anymore. you gave him everything long ago. but tonight, he still earned it, inch by inch, word by word.

“i’ll fill you up again,” he growled against your neck. “mark you from the inside this time. want to see it drip from you, want to watch it take.”

you whimpered, the sound lost between kisses and heat, your body arching as he pressed harder, faster, claiming you like only he could.

“gonna make you beg,” he hissed, grabbing your wrists, pinning them above your head. “show you who you belong to.”

“you,” you gasped. “only you.”

he smiled — dark, triumphant, adoring — and fucked you harder, deeper, until your cries turned into broken syllables and your body trembled beneath his. when you came, it was with his name on your tongue, and when he followed, spilling into you with a low growl, it was with his hands cradling your face like you were the only thing still holding him to the earth.

afterward, he didn’t move from you for a long time.

just held you, your legs tangled, your breathing slow, your bodies sticky and warm and still joined.

“we made something beautiful,” he murmured, his hand on your stomach, your heart, your life.

“we did,” you whispered back, lips brushing his.

and outside the window, beneath the stars, the camellia tree swayed — blooming, still, after all these years.

you had left modeling the year after the ceremony.

not the wedding — that had been for politics, for tradition, for the sake of appearances. but the second one, the real one, the one held in the temple courtyard with your hand in yuta’s and the clan kneeling before you in reverent silence — that was when everything shifted. after that, the camera no longer felt like a doorway to your future. it felt like a relic. a different skin you had already shed.

there were reasons, of course. you were now the wife of an oyabun, a woman of weight and presence in a house watched by too many eyes. the responsibilities were real, and heavy, and sometimes they left little room for dreams you once chased across magazine pages and studio lights. you stepped down without bitterness. not because the dream had died — but because it had simply evolved. power, after all, had many forms. and now yours wore silk, moved quietly, and negotiated the survival of families with a single glance across a tatami room.

still, from time to time, the itch returned — subtle, low beneath your skin. so every few seasons, you would indulge it. a private session. a camera. sometimes a friend from your past came to shoot, someone who understood that this wasn’t for publications, for fame, for the market. these photos weren’t meant for the world. they were for you. and for him.

you posed in lace, in silk, in shadows. sometimes wearing only his haori, your tattoos catching the light in deliberate contrast to the softness of your skin. you never smiled in those pictures. only stared into the lens like you were daring it to forget who you had become.

yuta never watched you shoot. he always let you have that space — but he waited outside the room like a man expecting something sacred. and later, once the photos were printed and arranged in the quiet privacy of your study, he kept them. not hidden. just protected. a lacquered album on the highest shelf, filled with his wife — his woman — arching across bedsheets, eyes half-lidded with power, with pride. he opened it on long nights sometimes, when the house was quiet and the city below dared to forget who ruled it. he’d look through the pages slowly, fingers brushing each image like a prayer.

“mine,” he would whisper. “mine forever.”

in the summer of that year, shotaro turned eight.

he asked to visit the shrine again.

this time, you let him go alone with yuta. you stayed behind with tsubaki, brushing her hair on the veranda, the scent of roasted barley tea drifting from the kitchen. she sat still for once, curious eyes turned toward the mountain path that had taken her brother and father out of sight.

at the shrine, yuta let shotaro walk ahead.

the boy moved with quiet steps, his hands respectfully tucked into the sleeves of his light jinbei, the dragon-embroidered sandals scraping softly against the stone. he carried a single flower — a white camellia, picked from the tree you had planted years ago. he had asked why it mattered. you had told him, “because it blooms even in the cold, and some names are meant to live forever.”

when they reached the grave, yuta didn’t speak. he watched as his son knelt before the stone, bowed deeply, and placed the flower carefully at the base.

“thank you,” the boy said quietly. “for my name. for my father.”

he bowed again.

and somewhere, just behind the trees, the wind moved like a breath held and released.

that fall, you watched tsubaki from the doorway of the meeting hall.

she was barefoot, small but composed, standing at the edge of the gathering like she belonged to it. she didn’t speak. didn’t fidget. just stood with her arms behind her back, head tilted slightly — listening.

the men watched her, but no one dared correct her presence.

not with you in the room.

not with yuta at the head of the table, his eyes flickering to his daughter only once before returning to the conversation about territory, expansion, diplomacy.

afterwards, she ran to you.

“they listen to you,” she said with a child’s solemnity. “and they listen to papa. so one day, they’ll listen to me.”

you smiled faintly and knelt beside her.

“and what will you say when they do?”

she considered the question, frowning slightly.

“i’ll say that peace doesn’t mean softness. it means knowing where to place your blade.”

you didn’t laugh. only kissed the top of her head.

“good girl.”

years from now, perhaps it would all change. perhaps shotaro would take over the clan or tsubaki would carve her own empire from the bones of your name. perhaps the city would grow beyond your reach. but for now, in the golden hush of late afternoon, your legacy was safe. not in money. not in territory. but in the way your son placed his hand on his sister’s shoulder when she spoke. in the way yuta looked at you like nothing else had ever made sense before you. in the way your story — once marked by silence and fire and fear — now unfolded in softness, in laughter, in roots that stretched deeper than any wound.

one night, when the children were asleep and the world outside was too loud to hear, yuta pulled you into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. he didn’t speak. just kissed you slow. deep. hands finding the familiar path of your hips, your breasts, the soft bend of your knees.

he made love to you the way a man remembers — every scar, every sound, every place you had once trembled. and when he came inside you, forehead pressed to yours, whispering your name like an incantation, he didn’t ask for permission or forgiveness.

he simply said:

“thank you for staying. thank you for becoming everything i never knew how to ask for.”

and you smiled, the weight of time and joy and sorrow pooled between your bodies, and answered:

“thank you for giving me a name worth carrying.”

outside, the wind moved through the camellia tree again — still blooming.

always blooming.

just like you.

[serpentandlily]

We Should Stick Together - Azriel x Reader

We Should Stick Together - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel deals with the aftermath of losing his mate. (Part I)

Warnings: angst, death, self-harm

A/n: An epilogue of sorts to Birds of a Feather - Read HERE. Thanks for all your love!! 

• ───────────────── •

I want you to stay

'Til I'm in the grave

'Til I rot away, dead and buried

'Til I'm in the casket you carry

• ───────────────── •

It was dead silent in the Temple. Many fae had come today to pay their respect and to honor the female that died during the war with Koschei—the female that had bravely lured the Death God to his demise and had ultimately met her own in the end.

Azriel had watched the service from the shadows, consumed by his shame and grief. Grief over losing his mate, his best friend, and the chance at a long life with her. Shame from not being able to protect her, from not realizing the mating bond between the two of them until it was far too late and for those last few words he had spoken to her that had only pushed her further into a suicide mission. 

You just want me to continue being miserable. Because that’s always been why the two of us got along so well. Both lonely and so unhappy and now that I’m finally not, you want to drag me back down. Maybe one day someone will love you the way me and Elain love each other. But just because no one does right now, does not mean I have to give up my happiness to keep being miserable with you.

The words haunted him. 

She haunted him. 

Azriel had always been good at ruining his own life. But saying those words was single handedly the worst mistake he had ever made. He hadn't meant them. Of course he hadn't meant them. He loved Y/n. He had since the day he had met her. She was his closest friend—someone he had felt comfortable with. But he had been so blind...blinded by Mor and her vivacious personality...blinded by Elain and the sunshine she had brought to the Night Court. 

All along his mate had been right by his side. The one person he had been searching for all his years of living had been right in front of him and he hadn't even noticed. 

Azriel walked down the long aisle towards the casket that was displayed on the dais. His footsteps echoed in the now silent chamber—not even his own heart beat could be heard. No, his heart had stopped beating the second hers had. 

He fiddled with the flower in his hand, swallowing the tears and sadness that threatened to consume him. He owed her this. He wasn't going to run and hide himself in the shadows as he'd been doing the past week. He needed to be here today. 

Azriel finally stopped in front of the casket and choked on his own bile as the sweet, comforting scent of his mate reached his nose. This felt all too much like a nightmare—one he was stuck in with no way out. Cursed to repeat this day from beginning to end for the rest of his existence. 

She would never stop haunting him.

And he didn't want her to. 

If the ghost of her was the only thing left of his mate in this world, he would cling to it for the rest of his days. 

Azriel placed the spirit lily on top of the casket, the glowing silver petals matched the marble stone. He had searched day and night to find this flower. It was your spirit lily. The one that had bloomed when you died. 

"I'm so sorry," he cried, the tears finally falling. "I'm so sorry." 

He fell to his knees before the casket, one scarred hand sliding along the cold marble as he continued to repeat those words over and over and over again. 

"I am so sorry."

• ───────────────── •

If you go, I'm going too, 

'Cause it was always you, alright

And if I'm turning blue, please don't save me

Nothing left to lose without my baby

• ───────────────── •

Azriel's ears were ringing as he sat at the kitchen table in the cottage that Elain and he had purchased a few weeks before their wedding. It was the first time he had stepped inside since the war with Koschei. It was the first time he'd even been in the Night Court since the loss of his mate and best friend. 

"I understand that you need time to process this, Azriel, I really do," Elain pleaded with him. "But we made vows to each other the day we married. Vows that were supposed to transcend any mating bond." 

Azriel's shadows wailed from the corners of the room. They had started searching for Y/n the day she died and hadn't stopped their cries of panic since then.

It had been a month already.

A whole, entire month had passed by without you. 

And here he was—dark circles lining his eyes, stubble on his hollowed jaw and a song he'd never hear again playing on repeat in his mind. His mating song. His soul's song. His soul that was desperately crying out for its other half. 

"I can't do this, Elain," he spoke, voice hoarse from disuse. "I'm sorry." 

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Elain questioned, crossing her arms and leaning on the kitchen counter. "Azriel, I rejected my own mate for you. I...I thought we were in this together. We talked about the day you might find your own and we agreed that you'd reject it too." 

"I know," Azriel whispered, his forlorn eyes stuck on the cracks on the floor. "But I didn't know what I was giving up the day we made those vows, Elain. I'm sorry. I truly am. But this...this is different. Lucien was a stranger to you. I thought if I ever met my mate, she'd be a stranger to me as well. But Y/n was my best friend. I've loved her for centuries."

"All that time together and yet, you still never went after her," Elain argued. 

Those words landed a heavy blow in his gut. Elain was right. He had known his mate for years and years and never once did he think of her as anything more than a friend. But that wasn't because of her. No, he had done that to himself. 

He had found a companion with Y/n. She saw him in ways no one else did. He'd be lying if he said that hadn't scared him. For someone to see through him—through all the good and to the rotting, decaying bad that existed in him. He was a monster hiding in plain sight and she had seen that. She had seen all of that and loved him anyway. 

And he had ran from it—from her. It was his own self-hatred that caused him to never see Y/n that way. She reminded him of everything that he was because she was all the same. She was the missing piece to his broken soul. But she had been beautiful in her darkness, hauntingly exquisite in her shadows. And he had been a brutish beast who thought that someone could vanquish the darkness that surrounded him.

What he hadn't realized was that he was never looking for a light to cast the shadows away. Not really. He had been fighting a storm whose tides had only been trying to bring him home to her. To his mate. His soul and heart and mind.  

And now she was gone and she had taken all of his love with her. 

Azriel stood from his seat, barely present in this reality. "I'm sorry, Elain. No words will change my mind nor my heart. I belonged to Y/n. It is only my fault that I never saw that." 

And it was his fault. 

All of it was his fault.  

• ───────────────── •

And I don't know what I'm crying for

I don't think I could love you more

It might not be long, but baby, I

I'll love you 'til the day that I die

• ───────────────── •

"Papa, who is that?"

Nyx's innocent voice caught Rhysand's attention. He followed Nyx's gaze to the corner of the room where Azriel stood, wreathed in his shadows. It had been years since any of them had laid eyes on the elusive shadowsinger. Years since he had been so consumed with his grief that he had disappeared from this court, from Prythian entirely. 

But there was one day he always returned.

The anniversary of Y/n's death. 

Cassian had ambushed him before he made it to her gravesite and all but dragged him to this family dinner. It broke Rhysand's heart that his son didn't recognize one of his uncles.

"That's Azriel," Rhysand answered, clearing his throat. "He's one of your uncles. He used to be around a lot when you were just a baby." 

"Oh," Nyx said, tilting his head as he looked at the shadowsinger. "He seems...sad. Why is he so sad, Papa?" 

Rhysand's heart snapped in his chest. The loss of Y/n had been felt by all of them, of course. But for Azriel...it had destroyed him. None of them had known about the mating bond between the two of them. They had been caught off guard just as much as Azriel had been. Rhys had felt an inkling that she might've been in love with him due to her slowly distancing herself once he and Elain had gone public with their relationship.

He had only thought she needed space and time. He hadn't realized that she had been slowly wilting away. And no one had done a single thing to help her. They had all failed her. 

Sometimes he felt a fire-burning rage towards his brother. He had tried to steer him away from Elain that Solstice night but Azriel hadn't listened to him. Perhaps if he had, Y/n might still be here. Perhaps the mating bond would've finally snapped in place for Azriel. But instead he had stubbornly doubled-down on his feelings for Elain. 

"He lost someone he loved," Rhys choked out. "We all did. Do you remember the stories about Y/n?" 

Nyx clapped his tiny hands together with a smile. Gwyn had made sure that Y/n's name had been honored and recorded in the new books about the war with Koschei. A story that was being passed down through the years. A story Nyx had read time and time again because it was his favorite. 

"She was the warrior who faced a Death God all on her own!" Nyx exclaimed. "She led him straight to the trap where he was ambushed!"

Rhysand smiled, patting his son on the head. It had been too hard to speak her name after her death but slowly, they had all started talking about her more and more. Perhaps it was finally time to tell his son the whole story. Rhys glanced at Azriel again, who was a shell of his former self. Perhaps not the whole story.

"Well, before all of that," Rhys started, "Y/n was our friend..."

• ───────────────── •

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know

I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone

Can't change the weather, might not be forever

But if it's forever, it's even better

• ───────────────── •

Azriel was kneeling on the grass, his hands grasping the beautiful stone marker of your gravesite as his eyes combed over the engraving: 

Here lies Y/n

Beloved Daughter, Sister and Friend

The stars will shine brighter with you among them 

Rest in Peace

"I have tried to go on for your sake," Azriel murmured. "Because I know that is what you would've wanted. But I can't...I can't do this without you. I relive every day I've shared with you and it is still not enough to make me miss you any less. I am sorry that it took your death to make me realize just how much you meant to me." 

Azriel had gone through it all in his head time and time again. Always reliving moments where he could've seen what was right in front of him all along yet didn't. Your last words to him constantly looped in his mind. 

"I'll find...you...again. Maybe...maybe I'll be...good enough...then."

Those words could not be more untrue. It was always him who had never been good enough for you. Not you. Never you. You had always been as beautiful as the moon reflected on the sea, alluring and mysterious but peaceful. So peaceful. Despite the darkness the two of you shared, you'd always been so soft and kind to those around you...those who had never felt the kind of pain you'd gone through. 

You lured people in because of your grace. You gave people a safe place to exist in. Your shadows had felt like a warm blanket on a chilly night. Your smile had rivaled the moonlight. 

You had always been far more special than you knew. 

Your mistake had been thinking you could out love his hatred for himself. 

But the mating bond had opened his eyes. Although he had only gotten a few seconds with his mate, its song had told him everything he needed to know. He no longer hated his shadows or the anger he felt inside. He no longer hated himself. How could he? How could he hate himself when part of him was you? 

And he could never hate you. 

Gods, he could never be without you. Your souls were intertwined. 

But living in this world without you was something he could not bear. He was consumed by your memory. He looked for you in everything. In the sea, in the breeze, in the faces of random people, down alleyways and behind every door. But you were not here. You were not here and so he decided he could not be here, either. 

"You said you'd find me again," Azriel whispered. "You said you'd find me again but that is not enough. I cannot sit here and wait for you. I will crawl through Hell and everything that is ready for me when my life ends to find you. This life means nothing to me without you in it. You were my heart, Y/n. I love you. I've always loved you. And I am ready to prove that in our next life."

Azriel slid Truth-teller from its sheath and turned it over in his hand, pointing the blade directly as his own heart. He closed his eyes, tuned out all noise except that of the leaves gently rustling in the breeze. 

"I love you, Y/n," he murmured, gripping the blade tighter. "And I can't wait to see you again." 

His dagger pierced through skin and bone until it reached his heart. 

Until all life was spilled from inside of him. 

Until his final breath carried with the wind. 

Until he could finally see his love again.

• ───────────────── •

I knew you in another life

You had that same look in your eyes

I love you, don't act so surprised

[millermouth]

Summary: Being raised by a survivalist father meant learning two things: endure at all costs, and trust no one. And you lived by those rules, even after he was gone, surviving alone in a world that never gave second chances. But enduring becomes far more complicated when a familiar face returns, burdened with a fierce young girl and a mission that was never meant to include you. When you're forced from the only home you’ve ever known, survival is no longer just about the next meal or the next breath—it’s about who you become when there’s no way back. You’ve spent years believing your father’s lessons—that needing people is a sign of weakness. But as the miles stretch on, as survival becomes more than just a fight for the next day, one truth becomes harder to ignore—you can’t live by your father’s rule of trusting no one anymore.

And one man makes following that rule damn near impossible.

Themes: Joel miller x reader slow burn romance, post-outbreak, grief, healing, angst & longing.

Warnings: canon-type violence, death, depictions of grief and trauma, age gap romance, suicide (referenced, not graphic), intimacy and eventual smut. 18+ only MDNI, but I can't control what you do so discretion is advised.

Other: reader is afab, long hair (enough to grab, put up in a ponytail) may be mentioned. no other physical characteristics. graphics do not reflect character description, only used for vibes. Follows Season 1 of The Last of Us. Blend of show and game canon. Picture Joel as you prefer, but I will be mentioning Pedro Pascal's brown eyes. No use of Y/N. In the beginning of the story, time hops are not canon.

mood boards: Bill's Daughter | The Road So Far | You & Joel | A Lonely Day | Her Peace | Teaser Trailer

Prologue

Before: 5 Years Old

Before: 10 Years Old

Before: 15 Years Old

Before: 18 Years Old

Before: 20 Years Old

Before: 23 Years Old

Now: 25 Years Old

Chapter 1: Joel and Ellie

Chapter 2: Escape

Chapter 3: The Envelope

Chapter 4: Fungus Ain't That Smart

Chapter 5: Kansas City

Chapter 6: The Climb

Chapter 7: Turret

Chapter 8: Strangers

Chapter 9: Spotlight

Chapter 10: Into the Water

Chapter 11: The Suburbs

Chapter 12: Fight and Flight

Chapter 13: Breaking Point

Chapter 14: One Month Later

Chapter 15: Jackson

Chapter 16: Thresholds

Chapter 17: Thinking of You

Chapter 18: Betrayal

Chapter 19: On the Road Again

Chapter 20: The Basement

Chapter 21: David

Chapter 22: Capture

Chapter 23: Blood and Fire

Chapter 24: What Comes After

Chapter 25: Waterways

Chapter 26: What Was Lost and What Was Taken

Epilogue

Ever After

Four Years Later

more coming soon

Hey, you beautiful, amazing people.

I don’t even know where to start, but thank you. Seriously. From the bottom of my heart: to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, screamed in the tags, sent me messages, or just silently followed along—you made this story so much more than I ever imagined.

Every comment, every reaction, every little freak-out over a scene made my day (and honestly fueled me to keep going). The way you connected with this story, these characters—it means everything. Writing this was one thing, but experiencing it with all of you? That was the best part.

So, to everyone who stuck with me, whether from the beginning or just recently—thank you for being here. Thank you for caring. Thank you for making this so special.

I love you all. Truly.