#i have friends/family here that i want to stay near but. i imagined living every year for the rest of my life like this & just. lost it.

[satellitedyke]

i feel fucking insane every time winter comes around & i hear ppl talk abt being cold in a very mild way. like "aaaaah yeah it's not the best but it's kinda fun". doesn't it hurt???? doesn't it fucking hurt every muscle in your body????

[chevyslate158]

Pleasantries of 'Love' 18+ (Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader) Chapter 1 - Gilded Beginnings

A/n: Hey everyone! First off, I want to apologise for taking so long to upload this chapter. I’ve been working on a bunch of drafts, so you’ll have plenty of content to enjoy over the holidays! 🎄✨ I promise I’ll be uploading them very soon, so stay tuned!

I hope you enjoy this chapter of Pleasantries of 'Love' and I’m looking forward to sharing the next one with you all. 😌💖 Also, I’ll be uploading a finished draft of a short story featuring Coriolanus either tonight or tomorrow (you’re not gonna want to miss it!). 📖✨ As for Threads of Freedom, the next chapter will be up later this week, along with many more updates! 😍

Thanks for your patience, and I can’t wait to hear what you think! 💕

Word Count: 6.7k words Warnings: Power Imbalance, fixation, manipulation, obsession themes, social pressure, unrequited affection, control, age gap, gendered expectation, objectification, traditional expectations, coercion, underlying threat, unhealthy relationship dynamics (Coriolanus and Reader), eventual smut and eventual arranged marriage

The gilded ballroom brimmed with grandeur, its opulence almost overwhelming. Y/n stood near the edge of the crowd, marvelling at the way the crystal chandeliers sparkled like stars. Her breath hitched slightly, her nerves fluttering as the hum of conversation rose and fell around her. The string quartet’s melody soothed her, and she clasped her hands tightly to steady herself, her soft blush gown swaying gently with her every movement. She adored how the dress reminded her of spring blossoms, modest yet quietly radiant, like the life she lived.

Her eyes scanned the room, widening slightly at the decadent displays of wealth: trays of delicacies she had never seen before, diamonds glittering on throats, wrists and ears. A warm smile touched her lips when someone greeted her, and though their words often carried subtle barbs, she responded with kindness nonetheless. Politics and power games weren’t her nature; instead, she revelled in small, sincere exchanges. That is why she had such a small group of friends. Her upbringing had taught her the strength of humility and the beauty of honesty, even in a room filled with the opposite.

Y/n’s family lingered nearby, her father standing protectively at her side while her mother and young sister basked in the excitement of the evening. Her two closest friends, Clara and Rose, whispered animatedly about the attendees, their eyes sparkling as they tried to guess who wore which designer dress or who was the cutest couple at the event. Y/n giggled softly at their speculations, feeling a surge of gratitude for their company.

Rose twirled a lock of her auburn hair around her finger, her lips curving into a mischievous grin. “Clara and I have decided we’re going to rank the best-dressed couples here tonight. Starting with them.” She tilted her head toward a striking pair near the centre of the room, their coordinated gold and ivory ensembles gleaming under the chandelier light.

Clara scoffed playfully. “Oh, please. They’re trying too hard. Look at her necklace—three layers of diamonds? Overkill!” She pointed subtly with her glass of sparkling cider. “Now, they,” she gestured to another couple near the banquet table, “look perfect. That midnight blue suit with her silver gown? Subtle and classy. No one’s outshining the other.”

Y/n chuckled softly at their analysis, letting their animated chatter ease her nerves. “I’m impressed you two know so much about Capitol fashion. I wouldn’t have the faintest idea who designed what.”

“That’s why you’ve got us,” Rose quipped, nudging Y/n again. “We’ll make sure you’re the best-dressed at every event from now on.” She paused, glancing toward a group of sharply dressed young men by the bar. “Speaking of, is it just me, or are we getting a lot of looks tonight?”

Clara smirked, tossing her blonde curls over her shoulder. “You’re not imagining it. I caught at least two of them glancing our way just now. Maybe they’ve never seen real beauty before.”

Y/n rolled her eyes with a laugh. “You two are ridiculous. They’re probably just wondering why we’re hovering by the wall like shy schoolgirls.”

Rose gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? I’m surveying the room. It’s called being strategic.” She turned toward Y/N with a sly grin. “And besides, you should be flattered. Half the men in here can’t take their eyes off you. Including, might I add, a certain very important man.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed immediately. “Stop it,” she protested, shaking her head. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Rose teased, her voice sing-song. “He’s looking again. Right now.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered as Clara leaned in conspiratorially. “You should practice your curtsy. Who knows, you might end the night with a dance from President Snow himself.”

“I’ll do no such thing!” Y/n whispered back, mortified, though her friends’ laughter made it impossible to stay annoyed. They teased her mercilessly, but the warmth of their camaraderie eased the tension in her chest. For a moment, she allowed herself to giggle along with them, the weight of the evening forgotten—until the thought of his piercing blue eyes lingered just a little too long in her mind.

Y/n’s laughter faded as curiosity tugged at her brows furrowing ever so slightly. Was he truly looking at me? Gathering what little courage she could muster, she dared to glance in his apparent direction. Her breath caught in her throat the moment her eyes found him. President Snow stood near a marble column, a glass of deep red wine cradled effortlessly in one hand. The tailored crimson suit he wore seemed to command the attention of the room, the deep hue a stark contrast to his fair complexion and icy blue eyes. The jacket’s sharp lapels framed his broad shoulders, his polished appearance exuding an air of quiet authority that made her stomach flutter.

His features were a study in precision—strong, angular, and utterly unreadable. The slightest tilt of his head and the glint in his eye gave him an edge of mystery, as though he were privy to secrets the rest of the world would never uncover. He sipped his wine slowly, his gaze steady, and Y/N’s cheeks burned when she realised those piercing blue eyes were locked on hers once again.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. The noise of the ballroom faded into a distant hum, and all she could feel was the erratic rhythm of her heart as it skipped a beat, then another. His stare was unrelenting, both chilling and thrilling in its intensity. It was as though he could see straight through her, past her composed exterior, to the nervous energy buzzing beneath her skin.

She quickly looked away, her fingers tightening their grip on the folds of her dress. Butterflies fluttered wildly in her stomach, and her thoughts became a tangle of confusion and exhilaration. What was it about his gaze that made her feel both exposed and significant all at once? She hadn’t even spoken a word to him, yet somehow, she felt as though he had marked her as someone worth noticing.

Clara’s voice pulled Y/N from her daze, the teasing lilt unmistakable. “You’ve gone quiet. Let me guess—you’ve been captivated by someone across the room?”

Y/n blinked, trying to compose herself, but her thoughts were still tangled with the image of him—the sharp angles of his face, the commanding presence he exuded, and the way his icy blue eyes had held hers with such certainty. Her heart fluttered wildly, betraying her previously composed exterior. “I’m just… lost in thought,” she murmured, her voice softer than usual.

Rose, ever perceptive, wasn’t convinced. “Lost in thought? Or lost in someone?” she teased, her grin widening as she glanced knowingly in the direction Y/n had dared to look. “Don’t deny it—you’ve been sneaking glances at him.”

Y/n’s cheeks burned, and she clutched the fabric of her gown tightly to steady and ground herself. 

“That’s not true,” she whispered, though the heat rising to her face and the erratic rhythm of her heart told a different story. She couldn’t admit it—not to herself, not to anyone—but the way his eyes had lingered on her made her feel seen in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

Despite her original protest, curiosity got the better of her once more, and she found herself stealing another glance. Her heart nearly stopped when she caught him watching her again, his gaze steady and unrelenting. He raised his glass ever so slightly, the faintest smirk curling at the corner of his lips, as though he knew the effect he had on her.

The room felt suddenly smaller, the air heavier as though the wind was knocked out of her. Oh, dear God. Y/n’s thoughts spiralled as she quickly averted her gaze, her heart leaping to her throat. A rush of warmth spread across her cheeks, and her pulse thundered in her ears, betraying the composure she struggled to maintain.

Why does he keep looking at me? She wondered, her mind a whirlwind of nerves and wonder. She barely registered her friends’ continued chatter as her thoughts spiralled. Had she imagined the subtle acknowledgement? Or was it real?

Her hands trembled slightly as she clasped them together one over the other, her friends’ laughter blending into the background. She tried to calm the butterflies fluttering wildly in her chest, but her gaze kept drifting back to him, as though pulled by some invisible force.

The night passed in a whirlwind of introductions and pleasantries, her family eager to acquaint her with men her age. Her father, ever watchful, took it upon himself to steer her toward eligible bachelors, each introduction feeling more forced than the last. One was the son of a wealthy politician, another the heir to an influential Capitol family. Y/N smiled politely, exchanged the expected small talk, and nodded at all the right moments, but her heart wasn’t in it. The son of the wealthy politician was tall but slender, with soft brown hair that fell just above his ears, and wide, nervous emerald green eyes that never quite met hers. His clothes were well-tailored, though his fidgeting hands betrayed his shyness shifting from foot to foot, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment clearly aware that his father was trying to attempt to set him up.

“Y/n,” the young man began hesitantly, his voice soft and uneven as though it might crack at any moment. “It’s… it’s been a long time since we’ve talked. You look—uh—nice tonight.” His emerald eyes darted to hers briefly before dropping back to the floor.

“Thank you, Theodore,” Y/n replied with a kind smile, her tone gentle. She remembered him well enough—Theodore Alden, the quiet boy from her school years, always sitting at the back of the classroom with his head buried in books. “It’s good to see you again. You’ve done well for yourself, I hear.”

He flushed deeper, tugging nervously at his cuffs. “Oh, I… I don’t know about that. My father likes to, um, exaggerate.” He glanced toward where his father stood a few feet away, watching them with an encouraging but overbearing smile. “I just… I wanted to say, I always admired you. You were always so kind… and graceful.”

Y/n blinked in surprise at his honesty, a warmth rising in her chest at his sincerity. “That’s very sweet of you to say, Theodore. I’ve always thought highly of you as well.”

His gaze lifted for a moment, meeting hers fully for the first time, and a tentative smile formed on his lips revealing small dimples. “You have?”

“Of course,” she said with a small laugh, trying to put him at ease. “You’ve always been intelligent and thoughtful. That’s something to be proud of.”

Before he could respond, her friends’ laughter rang out behind her, drawing her attention. She turned back to Theodore with an apologetic smile. “I should rejoin my friends. But it was lovely to speak with you again.”

“Y-yes, of course,” Theodore stammered, stepping back awkwardly accidentally bumping into a waiter in the process causing him to hastily apologise to the waiter before turning back to face you with an awkward smile on his face with his cheeks flushed. “Thank you for… for talking with me.”

As Y/n walked away, she felt a pang of guilt for leaving so quickly, but she felt as though the conversation had run its course. Glancing back once, she saw him watching her retreat with a wistful expression, his shoulders slumped slightly as though regretting he hadn’t said more.

As Y/n approached her friends, Rose and Clara exchanged knowing looks, their smiles already brimming with mischief. The moment she rejoined them, they pounced.

“Well, well,” Rose said with an exaggerated smirk, crossing her arms. “What was that all about? You and Theodore looked pretty cozy over there.”

Clara gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Don’t tell me the shy boy finally worked up the nerve to talk to you! Did he confess his undying love? Write a sonnet on the spot?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed. “Don’t be ridiculous. We were just catching up. It’s been years since I’ve spoken to him.”

“‘Just catching up,’” Rose echoed, mimicking Y/n’s soft tone. “Is that what you call it when a man can barely breathe around you? He looked like he was about to faint, Y/n.”

Clara giggled, leaning closer. “He’s had a thing for you since, what, first year of high school? Honestly, I think it’s adorable. The way he couldn’t stop fidgeting—poor thing was terrified of saying the wrong thing.”

“Terrified because Rose wouldn’t stop glaring at him from across the room,” Y/n shot back, giving her friend a playful nudge.

Rose held up her hands in mock innocence. “Hey, I was just trying to make sure he knew he had to impress you. Besides, he’s not really your type, is he?”

“And what exactly is my type?” Y/n asked, arching an eyebrow.

Rose and Clara exchanged another look before bursting into laughter. “Well definitely not shy, blushing bookworms,” Clara teased.

Y/n shook her head, laughing despite herself.

“Oh, come on,” Rose said, looping her arm through Y/n’s as they walked further into the ballroom. “Admit it, it was sweet. He couldn’t stop looking at you, and you can’t tell me you didn’t feel even a little flattered.”

Y/n sighed, a small smile playing on her lips. “Maybe a little. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

Clara grinned, nudging her gently. “Whatever you say, Y/n. Just remember, if you ever do need a shy, adorable politician’s son in your life, you’ve already got one wrapped around your finger.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, the faint blush on her cheeks betraying her exasperation. “You two are impossible,” she muttered bashfully under her breath, though their teasing drew a small, reluctant smile.

Rose suddenly gasped, her eyes lighting up with mock realization. “Oh, right! How could I forget? You weren’t exactly paying attention to poor Theodore, were you? Not when you were giving heart eyes to the president earlier.”

Clara burst into laughter, clutching her side. “She’s right! Y/n, you practically melted on the spot. I’ve never seen you blush that much in my life. Should we curtsy every time we walk by you now? Future First Lady and all?”

Y/n’s eyes widened, her face flushing as she waved them off. “I was not giving him heart eyes! Stop it, people will hear you!”

Rose smirked, tapping her chin dramatically. “Oh, you weren’t? Because I’m pretty sure he was looking at you, too.”

Clara nudged Y/n with her elbow. “Come on, admit it. Just for us. You felt something, didn’t you?”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands as her friends giggled uncontrollably. 

Yet even as she humoured with her friends on her family’s previous attempts to match her with Capitol’s finest, her gaze kept drifting across the room. No matter where she was or whom she spoke to, her eyes sought him out, as if drawn by some invisible force. Each time she looked, he was closer than the last time.

Coriolanus Snow moved with calculated ease, weaving through clusters of politicians and dignitaries with his effortless charm. His crimson suit was impossible to miss, and neither was the way he glanced in her direction, his gaze lingering just long enough to send her heart into overdrive. His every move seemed casual, but Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that he was purposefully closing the distance between them.

Her pulse quickened as she realised he was nearing her side of the room, his slow but deliberate path bringing him closer with each passing moment. He stopped to exchange a few words with a senator, then moved on to greet a wealthy benefactor, all while subtly inching toward her. Each glance, each small shift, made her chest tighten with a mix of excitement and nerves.

“Y/n, are you even listening?” her mother’s voice broke through her thoughts gently tugging her away from her friends and close to her side so she could join in on the conversation. “Lord Albright was just telling us about his family’s estate outside the Capitol.”

“Oh,” she said quickly, forcing her attention back to the conversation. “That sounds lovely.”

But her distraction didn’t go unnoticed. Rose stifled a laugh, her eyes flicking knowingly toward where the young president stood. “You’ve been staring all night stop being so obvious,” she teased in a low voice. “He’s going to think you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not—” Y/n began, but her words caught in her throat as her gaze unintentionally flicked back toward him. This time, their eyes met again, and her breath hitched. He was only a few paces away now, his sharp features illuminated under the golden light of the chandeliers. His expression was unreadable, but there was no mistaking the deliberate way he was closing the gap.

Just as the moment felt unbearably intense, her father spoke up. “It’s getting late. We should head home before the streets grow too busy.”

Y/n’s stomach dropped. “Already?” she asked, a hint of reluctance slipping into her tone.

Her mother gave her a gentle smile, guiding her toward the exit. “It’s been a long evening, dear. You’ll have other chances to socialise.”

As they made their way toward the grand doors, Y/n couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder one last time. Snow was standing where she’d last seen him, his piercing gaze following her departure. There was something in his expression—calculated, almost possessive—that sent a shiver down her spine.

She tore her eyes away, her heart pounding as she stepped out into the cool night air. Even as the carriage pulled away, the image of him lingered, etched into her mind like an indelible mark she couldn’t shake. Deep down she had a gut feeling this wouldn't be the last time she saw President Snow.

-Two days after the grand event- Y/n found herself seated at the dining table with her family. The cozy glow of the chandelier illuminated the room, filling it with warmth as the evening meal unfolded. Plates clinked softly, and light chatter wove through the air, her parents and siblings discussing the usual topics of the day.

It was then the soft knock came at the door. A courier, dressed sharply in Capitol livery, handed a small, elegant envelope to their housekeeper. The sealed parchment bore the unmistakable crest of the President. Y/n's heart fluttered at the sight of it as it was carefully placed in her hands.

“Who could that be from?” her mother asked, her curiosity barely contained.

“I have no idea,” Y/n murmured, her fingers trembling as she broke the seal. Her family’s conversation fell into a hushed silence, all eyes now on her as she carefully unfolded the letter.

As her gaze swept across the elegant script, her breath hitched. She could barely process the words, the formal tone, or the undeniable authority that each sentence carried. When she reached the end of the letter, her cheeks were flushed, her mind whirling with the weight of the invitation. -Start Of Letter-

The Capitol, Office of the President, Panem,

Dearest Y/n Y/l/n

I hope this letter finds you well. Allow me to formally introduce myself: I am Coriolanus Snow, President of Panem, though I suspect you may already know of me. Yet, in turn, I must admit I knew little of you until recently when fate allowed our paths to cross. At my recent formal event, amidst a sea of notable guests, it was you who caught my eye. There was a quiet grace in your demeanour, an elegance that demanded notice yet sought none. Intrigued, I found myself wanting to learn more about the person who carried such an air of distinction.

As a man who values intelligence, poise, and refinement, I feel compelled to extend an invitation for us to become better acquainted. It is rare for someone to leave such an impression, and rarer still for me to act upon it. However, I find myself intrigued by the possibilities that may arise from our acquaintance. To that end, I would be honoured if you would join me for an intimate dinner at Le Marbre Étoilé this Friday evening at 8 o’clock for I have already taken the liberty of reserving a table. The setting is one of the finest in the Capitol, offering an atmosphere befitting such an esteemed guest as yourself. 

While I understand the obligations of daily life can sometimes interfere with such invitations, I must stress the significance of this occasion. My schedule, as I am sure you can appreciate, is relentlessly occupied, leaving little room for rescheduling. I trust you will recognise the importance of seizing this opportunity and make the necessary adjustments to your own commitments. You are, of course, free to decline. However, I would hope such a decision is carefully considered, for an audience with the President is a privilege not lightly afforded.

I eagerly await your company and trust you will honour my invitation with your presence.

Until we meet, I remain yours with the utmost anticipation.

Warm regards, Coriolanus Snow President of Panem

-End of letter-

“What does it say?” her father pressed, leaning forward with a look of concern.

“It’s…” Y/n hesitated, still struggling to believe it herself. “It’s from President Snow.” Her voice was quiet, yet it seemed to echo in the stillness of the room. “He… He’s invited me to dinner. This Friday.”

A moment of stunned silence followed before her mother clasped her hands together. “President Snow? Invited you personally? How extraordinary!”

Her father frowned slightly, his protective nature stirring. “Why would the President take such an interest in you, Y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Y/n admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “He said he noticed me at the event and wanted to become better acquainted. He’s already made arrangements for dinner at Le Marbre Étoilé.”

Her mother’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Le Marbre Étoilé! It’s the finest establishment in the Capitol. What an incredible honour!”

Her father rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It is unusual, but… he is the President. It wouldn’t be wise to decline.”

Her younger sister giggled, teasing. “Looks like someone caught the eye of Panem’s most powerful man.”

“Enough,” her father said firmly, though a trace of pride crept into his tone. “Y/n, you’ll go. You’ll represent our family with dignity and respect.”

“But…” Y/n faltered. “What if I embarrass myself? What if I’m not what he expects?”

Her mother placed a gentle hand on hers. “You’re everything he could expect and more, darling. Be yourself—your grace and poise will do the rest.”

Y/n looked at each of her family members in turn, feeling a mix of trepidation and resolve. The weight of the invitation was heavy, but their encouragement wrapped around her like a comforting blanket.

Finally, she nodded, a small but determined smile breaking through her nerves. “I’ll go,” she said softly. “I’ll make sure I don’t let any of you down.”

Her family’s approval bolstered her spirits, but as she folded the letter and set it beside her plate, her thoughts drifted back to the man who had written it. President Snow—a name so synonymous with power and control. She wondered, for the briefest moment, what kind of man she would truly meet that Friday night. -Friday-

Friday evening arrived faster than Y/n anticipated, bringing with it a flurry of nerves and excitement. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange, while the glow of Capitol lights began to twinkle in the distance.

Her bedroom was a whirlwind of fabrics and accessories as her mother and younger sister fussed over her, each determined to ensure she looked perfect for the evening ahead. A soft gown of midnight blue had been chosen—a colour that complimented her complexion and highlighted the delicate curves and frame of her body. The fabric shimmered faintly under the light, subtle yet captivating, with a neckline that was modest but elegant it dipped just low enough to catch the eye but not enough to be deemed scandalous, with the dress flowing gracefully to the floor.

“Hold still, darling,” her mother instructed, carefully fastening the clasp of an understated pearl necklace around Y/n’s neck. “You look exquisite. Truly, like a vision.”

Her younger sister grinned, hands busy smoothing the delicate folds of the gown making sure there was not a single crease. “You’re going to leave everyone speechless, especially the president.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed at the mention of President Snow, her stomach twisting with nerves. “Do you think this is too much?” she asked, glancing at her reflection in the mirror.

“Not at all,” her mother reassured her, brushing a few stray hairs back into the intricate updo they had styled. “It’s elegant. Sophisticated. Exactly the impression you want to leave.”

Her sister couldn’t resist teasing. “You’re going to make every woman in that restaurant jealous, Y/n. But don’t forget—he’s the one who invited you. That says everything.”

Y/n managed a small smile, though her heart still raced. The weight of the invitation and the significance of the evening felt almost overwhelming. Yet, beneath the nerves was a flicker of curiosity, a quiet wonder at what awaited her.

Once her hair was set, her makeup applied with a light and delicate touch, and the finishing details of her ensemble in place, her mother stepped back to admire her work. “Perfect,” she declared with a smile of pride. “Absolutely perfect.”

Y/n turned to the mirror, studying her reflection. For the first time that evening, she allowed herself to feel a sliver of confidence. She had to admit, she did look elegant, the kind of elegance she imagined would be expected of someone dining with the President.

Her father appeared in the doorway, his expression a mix of protectiveness and awe. “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, his voice soft. “Are you ready?”

Y/n took a deep breath, smoothing the fabric of her gown with trembling hands. “I think so,” she said quietly.

Her mother gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulders. “You’ll do wonderfully, darling. Remember, just be yourself.”

As she descended the staircase to the waiting car, her family’s encouraging smiles lingered in her mind. Though the thought of meeting President Snow still made her heart race, Y/n was determined to carry herself with grace and dignity, no matter what the evening held.

The soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the manor living room marked each passing moment as Y/n sat with her family, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her midnight blue gown cascading elegantly to the floor. Her father paced near the window peeking out discreetly every so often, his stern expression masking the nervous energy he exuded. Her mother, ever composed, sat gracefully beside Y/n, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in her dress. Beside her, Y/n’s younger sister fidgeted, her excitement barely contained as she sat perched on the arm of the couch. “I’m sure he’ll be here any moment,” her mother said, glancing at the ornate clock above the mantle. Her tone was calm, but the glimmer of pride in her eyes was unmistakable.

“Do you think he’ll actually come to the door?” her sister asked, her wide eyes alight with curiosity. “Or will the driver just honk and wait outside?”

Her father shot her a look. “A man in his position would do well to show proper respect.” Her father stood near the window, peeking out and looking to see if the president had arrived yet. He turned to Y/n, his gaze softening. “Remember, this is just a dinner, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a mix of encouragement and caution. “Be polite, but don’t let anyone make you feel uncomfortable.” Y/n nodded, her heart pounding against her ribs. The weight of the evening ahead pressed down on her, but she met her father’s gaze with quiet determination.

The sound of an approaching vehicle, smooth and unmistakable, silenced the room. Y/N’s heart skipped as the sleek black Capitol limo came into view, its polished surface gleaming under the glow of the estate’s exterior lights. The car rolled to a stop in front of the manor, and after a moment, the door opened.

Coriolanus Snow emerged with the kind of poise that commanded attention. Dressed in a tailored black suit with crimson accents—a subtle yet striking statement of power—he exuded confidence. In his hand, he carried a single white rose. He paused briefly, adjusting his coat, before making his way up the stone steps to the front door.

The knock that followed echoed through the room, sharp and deliberate. Y/n’s father straightened, crossing the room to answer. When he opened the door, Coriolanus greeted him with a polite, disarming smile, his icy blue eyes betraying nothing of his true intentions.

“Good evening, Mr. Y/l/n,” he said smoothly, his voice like silk. “I am Coriolanus Snow, President of Panem. Thank you for allowing me the honour of escorting your daughter this evening.”

Y/n’s father hesitated, sizing him up for a moment before stepping aside. “President Snow,” he said, his tone cautious yet respectful. “Welcome to our home. Please, come in.”

Coriolanus stepped inside, his sharp features framed by the soft glow of the chandelier overhead. His gaze swept the room briefly before settling on Y/N, who had risen from her seat, her composure steady despite the butterflies in her stomach.

“Miss Y/l/n,” he greeted, inclining his head with a practised air of courtesy. “You look radiant this evening.”

“Thank you, President Snow,” Y/n replied softly, curtsying slightly, her voice steady even as her heart raced.

With a small, calculated smile, he extended the white rose to her. “A token for a memorable evening,” he said, his tone gentle, though his eyes gleamed with something more inscrutable.

Y/n accepted the rose with both hands, her fingers brushing the delicate petals. Before she could respond, he snapped the stem cleanly, leaving the flower intact. Leaning forward, he gently tucked it behind her ear, his touch light but deliberate.

“There,” he said, his voice low, almost intimate. “Perfect.”

Her family watched the exchange in silence, yet her mother beamed at the exchange while her sister barely stifled an excited squeal. The weight of the moment was heavy in the room. With an air of finality, Coriolanus stepped back, offering his arm to Y/n. “Shall we?”

Y/n glanced at her parents, who both gave small, reassuring nods. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand lightly on his arm. 

Just as he guided her toward the door Snow turned back to her father, his tone unwavering as they were about to exit the front door of their manor. “I assure you, Mr. Y/l/n, your daughter will be in the utmost care this evening. I deeply value the trust you’ve extended to me.”

Though Y/n’s father maintained his reserved composure, he gave a measured nod. “See that you do.”

The sleek black limousine gleamed under the streetlights as Coriolanus Snow held the door open for Y/n. His movements were precise, every action exuding an air of control and authority. Y/n hesitated for the briefest moment, casting a glance back at her family standing in the doorway of the manor before stepping inside the luxurious vehicle.

The interior of the limo was nothing short of breathtaking, a haven of understated opulence. The soft leather seats were impeccably stitched, their deep, rich hue complementing the gleaming mahogany panelling that lined the walls. The subtle glow of warm, recessed lighting cast a golden hue over the space, illuminating the fine crystal decanters that held Capitol's most exclusive vintages in a small, built-in bar.

The faint aroma of expensive cologne mingled with the delicate scent of fresh roses arranged in an understated vase near the side panel. Every detail spoke of wealth and precision, from the velvet-lined armrests to the silent hum of the temperature-controlled environment.

Snow followed closely, settling into the seat beside her with a measured grace. His movements were deliberate, exuding an air of calm control as he adjusted his position. His tailored suit caught the light subtly, the fabric hinting at its impeccable craftsmanship, while his piercing gaze swept the cabin briefly before returning to her, his presence filling the intimate space effortlessly.

As the car began to move, the city lights of the Capitol streamed past the tinted windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colours that danced across the sleek interior. The glow of neon signs illuminated towering buildings, their facades adorned with holographic advertisements that shimmered like liquid gold. Streets were alive with motion, a symphony of luxury vehicles gliding past pedestrians dressed in extravagant finery.

Capitol elites wandered the bustling avenues, their laughter and animated conversations spilling into the night air. Women adorned in opulent gowns, encrusted with gemstones that caught the light, strolled arm-in-arm with men in tailored suits boasting rich, exotic fabrics. Groups lingered near gilded restaurant entrances, their expressions a mix of idle amusement and carefully practised airs of superiority, waiting to enter establishments where chandeliers glittered like starlight through tall windows.

The gentle hum of the engine was the only sound for a moment before Snow broke the silence.

“I trust your family approves of our outing this evening,” he said, his tone conversational but with an undertone of authority.

“They were… a bit surprised by your invitation, Mr. President,” Y/n replied, her voice soft and almost hesitant, her gaze flickering to meet his before dropping again.

“Coriolanus,” he corrected smoothly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “There’s no need for formality between us tonight.”

Y/n nodded, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The grandeur of the Capitol outside the window was both mesmerising and intimidating, but she focused on maintaining her composure.

After a short ride, the limousine pulled up in front of Le Marbre Étoilé, the Capitol's most exclusive dining establishment. The grand facade of the restaurant was illuminated with golden lights, its towering columns and intricate marble carvings radiating opulence. A valet immediately stepped forward to open the door, bowing slightly as Coriolanus exited the vehicle.

He turned to offer Y/n his hand, his gaze unwavering as she placed her fingers lightly in his. His palm was cool but firm, his grip tightening around hers with a subtle yet possessive strength. “Welcome to Le Marbre Étoilé,” he said, his voice carrying a note of pride, each word measured and deliberate. His touch lingered as if to ground her amidst the overwhelming grandeur surrounding them, his icy blue eyes locking onto hers, commanding her full attention.

The restaurant’s entrance opened to reveal a grand lobby adorned with crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors, and towering arrangements of fresh roses. The murmured conversations of the Capitol elite filled the air, mingling with the soft strains of a string quartet playing in the corner.

Snow placed a hand lightly on the small of Y/n’s back, guiding her through the crowd. Heads turned subtly as they passed, whispers rippling in their wake. Y/n couldn’t help but feel the weight of every gaze, but Snow walked with an unbothered confidence, as though the entire evening had been orchestrated solely for them.

A maître d’ appeared, bowing deeply. “Mr. President, your table is ready,” he announced, gesturing toward a private section of the restaurant.

“Excellent,” Snow replied, his tone clipped but polite. He glanced at Y/n, his icy blue eyes momentarily softening. “Shall we?”

Y/n nodded, allowing herself to be led further into the gilded halls of Le Marbre Étoilé, the quiet elegance of the setting only heightening her sense of anticipation.

The dinner began with a glass of sparkling Capitol wine, its bubbles shimmering like liquid gold in the crystal flutes. Y/n’s fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the glass, stealing a glance at Snow from beneath her lashes. His every movement was deliberate, and precise, from the way he swirled the wine in his glass to the subtle tilt of his head as he observed her.

“You’re quiet,” he remarked, breaking the silence that had settled over their secluded corner of the grand restaurant.

Y/n’s cheeks warmed, and she placed the glass back onto the table with care. “I suppose I’m not used to being in places like this,” she admitted, her voice soft.

Snow leaned forward slightly, the flickering candlelight casting sharp shadows over his features. “And yet, you carry yourself as though you belong here,” he said, his tone almost disarming. “Your poise betrays any claim of unfamiliarity.”

Y/n glanced down at her plate, feeling the weight of his words. “That’s kind of you to say, Mr. President.”

“Coriolanus,” he corrected smoothly once again. “You’ll find I prefer a more personal approach during private engagements.”

She nodded, her lips curving into a faint, polite smile, though she didn’t trust herself to speak again just yet. Her shyness was a strange comfort in this setting; it shielded her from the vulnerability of meeting his gaze too often.

The meal was a parade of Capitol extravagant appetisers of delicately arranged seafood, main courses of tender meat paired with rare vegetables, and desserts that looked more like works of art than food. Each dish was introduced with an air of reverence by the maître d’, and while Y/n appreciated the effort, she found herself more focused on the man seated across from her.

“Do you often dine with guests in such an... exclusive setting?” she asked cautiously, breaking the silence as she carefully cut into her entrée.

Snow’s lips twitched into what could only be described as a shadow of a smile. “Rarely,” he admitted, his icy blue eyes locking onto hers. “I value my time too greatly to squander it on idle company. This, however...” He paused, lifting his glass in a subtle gesture toward her. “This is a notable exception.”

Her heart fluttered, and she quickly dropped her gaze, feeling the heat creep into her cheeks. “That’s... flattering,” she murmured, fumbling for the right words.

“You’re being modest again,” he replied, his tone gentler than she expected. “I find it refreshing, truthfully. The Capitol is so often a place of excess, of posturing. It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t demand to be noticed but commands attention nonetheless.”

The compliment left her breathless, and she focused on her plate, her appetite fading as nervous energy took its place. “I’m not sure I deserve such praise,” she said finally, daring a glance at him.

Snow set his fork down and leaned back in his chair, studying her with a piercing intensity. “That humility is precisely what makes you deserving,” he said quietly, as though it were an irrefutable fact.

For a moment, the room seemed smaller, the grand space folding in on itself until it was just the two of them. The orchestra’s music faded into the background and the clink of glasses and murmured conversation from the other diners echoed a distant hum.

Y/n took a small sip of her wine, her fingers gripping the glass tightly as she tried to steady her nerves. There was something unnerving about the way he looked at her—not unkind, but calculated, as though he were peeling back her layers and uncovering secrets even she didn’t know she had.

“You’re quiet again,” he observed, his voice breaking through her thoughts.

She managed a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I suppose I’m still not used to this.”

“Then allow me to make you more comfortable,” he said smoothly, raising his glass. “To new beginnings, Y/n.”

She hesitated before lifting her glass to meet his, her smile tentative. “To new beginnings.”

As their glasses clinked softly, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that this dinner was more than just a meal. It felt like the start of something she couldn’t quite name—something thrilling, terrifying, and inescapable.

[wholoveseggs]

I also have another one!! I’d love to see like Rebekahs friend(the reader) and Elijah’s love story. Like how they met(maybe in the Victorian age or Viking) and just them through the eras! If that is something you would be interested in doing! Like no problems just a cute little thing about their story through the time 💕💕 as always no pressure 💕

Worth the wait

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You and Elijah are childhood friends, dipping in and out of each others lives for the past one thousand years. You hope that one day you will have a chance to be together and find the love you've always longed for.

♡♡ Thanks for the requests @ashloring & @loving-and-dreaming I got these requests back to back and I thought they were perfect combined together. Sorry it took so long, I really wanted to do this story justice... hopefully it is... ♡♡

7.1k words - Warnings: smut, angst, reminiscing, playful sex, Elijah being very silly and sappy.

You were always fated to love him from afar. From the first moment you ever laid eyes on Elijah — you knew deep down that you would love him as long as you lived. What you didn't know was how long that would be.

You grew up together in a quaint viking village, learning to hunt and forage. He pushed you around, pulled your braids and teased you. You gave back as much as you got, biting and scratching until you were both on the ground tousling around in a full blown battle to prove who was the winner.

The nature of your play fighting changed when you became teenagers, arms still grabbing, but now holding a little bit longer, hands lingering, brushing one anothers faces. Eyes meeting, always with a blush and hasty awkward parting.

When his mother caught you laying on his bed together, fully clothed with a few shy pecks here and there, she sent you away. From that point on, you barely spoke, too embarrassed and flustered to communicate.

You grew up and grew apart, watching him and his family from afar. There was always a darkness over the Mikaelson household, a lingering sense of unease that kept everyone in the village back.

Still the sight of him was enough to brighten your day. Even though you stayed far away from him and his family, Elijah often found you sitting near him, the two of you were simply drawn to each other.

Life was perfect and peaceful until one night, screams echoed in the darkness, sending you from the safety of your bed. It was coming from his home, so you quickly grabbed the only weapon you could find and ran towards the sound.

What you found was beyond anything you could imagine, death and magic combined as the family mutated into a monster to rival the ones of mythological tales.

Esther spotted you and forced you to your knees, laying beside Elijah's body as she began her spell. Once you were tied by mystical cords you didn't understand, she muttered the same incantations she had spoken over each of her children.

That was your last night as a human, the last night you were alive.

Life as an original vampire was unexpected, it came with anger, lust, bloodlust, and unmatched supernatural strength that took adjusting.

Luckily you weren't entirely alone, you had the Mikaelson siblings, teaching each other, being patient, especially Elijah. Together you mastered every nuance in becoming the strongest predator there was.

While you may have been turned against your will, you quickly accepted this new existence. The freedom that came with an endless future proved rewarding with each sunrise.

But soon the prospect of an endless future turned into a curse and you learned the only true enemy of an original was time itself.

Eternity felt hollow as you watched every friend you made grow old and die while you were forced to continue on. Leaving you, haunted and depressed with no escape in sight.

And the only group of people who understood your plight suffered from their own problems. You spent your first five hundred years with them, moving around from country to country before you needed to take a long break from them.

You hoped that Elijah would always keep his heart, stay gentle and kind, but that was impossible. He matured into someone cunning and ruthless, his humanity slowly slipping away, tainted by the brutalities of this life.

The constant bickering, hateful arguments and petty jealousy between them drove you away. After those years you decided to live independently, only visiting the Mikaelson's every couple centuries, trying your best to keep hold of your humanity, while feeling lost in the ever flowing sea of time.

You sat out front a quiet little cafe, sipping on a espresso and browsing your phone. Modern technology was still such a trip to you, just one change after another in an impossible to keep up with world. Everyday some new gadget popped up.

You remembered a time when it took weeks to travel from one place to another. For a letter to make its way took months. And now you could press a button on the piece of glass in your hand and have a face to face conversation with someone on the other side of the world.

It was fascinating, these human inventions that filled their mundane lives. You envied how enraptured they were in their invented distractions. Not everything changed, humans were still so desperate for a simple illusion to fill the boredom of the days drudgery.

But today wasn't an ordinary day for you, today you had a date. Or at least, you wanted it to be a date, Elijah probably saw it as just meeting up with an old friend.

He sat down across from you, handsome as ever, elegant and charming, just as you remembered. Dressed in a black suit, the perfect mix of old fashioned and contemporary.

But when he smiled at you, all your trepidation melted away. It was the same familiar smile you fell in love with, holding that bright twinkle in his eyes and showing off those dimples.

"It's been a while," he said with a faint smile.

"Just a little," you smirked playfully.

He always had the same mannerisms, crossing his legs and holding his body with poise. However in the centuries you spent around him, you learned all his tells. The way he always touched his face when uncomfortable, his tendency to play with his hands.

"How have you been?" he asked, leaning back in his seat as he ordered a cup of coffee.

He politely thanked the waitress that delivered it, before taking a sip, his dark eyes set intensely on yours.

"Me, oh I've been..." you let your voice trail off for a moment, swallowing the memories that threatened to steal your poise.

But Elijah knew what you were thinking, not having seen one another for so long, the memories of the last time you saw eachother tried to force their way back to the front of your mind.

It was the 1950s, and you ran into him in New York of all places. It was the first time you thought you actually had a real chance with him, but he was plagued by his missing siblings, his rage at his brother turned him into a man you barely recognized.

Watching him torture people for information, murdering innocent bystanders didn't seem out of the ordinary anymore, this new Elijah was beyond ruthless. He was a man devoted only to killing his enemies.

Today he seemed far different, poised and kind. The Elijah you fell in love with as a girl had somehow resurfaced and seemed quite eager to make your acquaintance. Or perhaps you just wanted to see him as the man you have always loved, a possibility of a future with him you always dreamed of.

"I guess we haven't really kept in touch," you murmured softly. "I've been off doing my thing and I've missed you more than words could say. Though... you obviously haven't missed me, being so busy playing king of the vampires," you teased him.

"Well someone has to keep the order," he said with a smirk.

"And you think you're the best man for the job?" you raised your brows.

His gaze met yours, he couldn't help the nostalgia that built up in him. Seeing you staring at him, reminded of the times when he first fell in love with you. He had both just turned thirteen and it was like he was seeing you for the first time, dancing around the fire with ribbons in your hair. All the times he would look at you, getting flustered, only to see you looking back at him with the same unspoken feeling between you.

"Well it's either me or Niklaus," Elijah answered as he took a drink.

"Fair enough," you laughed softly and sighed.

Elijah loved that laugh, the way it made your eyes light up. His heart melted, seeing you looking so beautiful. He never stood a chance, you could have your pick of any man, ones who would worship the ground you walked on, ones that could give you a happy life.

"I trust the family is doing well?" you asked with an even gaze.

He nodded. "I have a niece now, Hope. She's brought light back into my family," he smiled slightly.

You loved seeing him this way, happy and hopeful, exactly the way it should be.

"I can't believe it, Niklaus a father. Angels weep," you jested with a laugh.

"Well sometimes you have to set aside your misgivings and make room for surprises," he smirked.

"Spoken like a true mediator," you replied, toasting him with your mug.

You talked for what seemed like forever, catching up on lost time, simply taking in one another's presence. His gaze lingered on you, admiring your confidence. You've always had that glow, drawing everyone in with your easy nature.

"Now tell me, how was your time in Paris?" Elijah asked curiously.

"Has Elijah Mikaelson been keeping tabs on me?" You teased him and laughed.

"I've managed to keep track of a few things," he smirked.

"Nothing you didn't already know, I've spent the past few decades indulging in one thing or another," you answered honestly. "Wine, art, food, sex…”

"How do I fall into those categories?" he chuckled, cocking his head to the side.

"Hmmm, I want to say art but I don't want to feed your ego, so wine it is," you grinned.

"Not sex?" he questioned with a grin.

You shrugged and sipped on your drink, trying to conceal the hot blush spreading over your skin.

"I wouldn't know, now, would I?" you teased him.

It was meant to be a question, that's what you intended, however it came out as an admission and you winced slightly, embarrassed that your nerves were starting to take over.

Elijah loved flirting with you, it felt different than with anyone else, there was something about it, like he was doing it for the first time, all nerves and awkwardness. He saw the flush and pink in your cheeks, the same sweet little blush from a thousand years ago, he knew you felt the same way.

"Would you like to?" he asks curiously.

"Please, Elijah..." you laughed off his question.

You shuffled in your seat nervously. Not believing that Elijah had actually seen the potential for romance. He was just teasing, friendly banter between old friends.

"How's your dating life?" You asked, steering the conversation away from the uncomfortableness you were feeling.

"You're asking me out?" he smirked.

"Fuck off," you chuckled playfully. "I was only going to ask if you are still pinning after Katherine," you teased.

"Now who's keeping tabs?" He countered with a smile.

"Do you blame me? C'mon, give me all the delicious gossip."

"Well.. I finally found her. We had lots of sex, then I dumped her," he quipped.

"Oh my, Elijah, a heartbreaker," you smirked.

"Yes, that's me. Now you, I've always wondered who you were with?" Elijah brought the attention back to you, waiting for an explanation.

You rolled your eyes and relaxed into the chair. "Men, women, witches, werewolves…” you joked.

"Not sex, I meant love. Did you meet anyone that holds your heart?" He clarified, fiddling with his hands under the table, both excited and nervous to hear what you had to say.

You got a little flustered and swallowed, shrugging it off as nothing. There was no one. You certainly met some contenders over the years, but no one came close to the man that sat across from you.

"Love is exhausting," you replied casually. "Much like everything in this life, it's all the same. At the end of the day, you're left feeling empty."

He listened. He understood what you mean, eternity can feel so empty. But he felt an optimism when he was around you, no longer did he feel chained to life, to time.

"I don't agree," he murmured softly, "I think you just haven't found it yet."

"Elijah, c'mon," you laughed a bit and shook your head.

It seemed as though every date you had in the last ten centuries paled in comparison. When you were with him it just felt different, it wasn't lust, or an insatiable need to be around him. It was peace, it was comfort, he felt like home and it was special.

"No, really," he paused and smiled softly. "C'mon, lets go for a walk, I'll show you," he stood up, reaching his hand towards you.

You stood, and began walking, chatting about old times. He reminded you of the day you spent together in 1599 where you saw Shakespeare's Julius Caesar at the Globe theater, both of you sitting up in the rafters with the best view there was.

One thing led to another and the two of you ended up chasing one another all around the city, drinking far too much rum and dramatically reenacting the stabbing in a fit of giggles.

You reminded him of the time in the 1650s in Spain where you witnessed a beautiful redhead attempt to flirt with him by twirling her fan and covering half her face. It just resulted in the both of you mocking her mercilessly, a small giggle escaped your lips when you remembered his laughter.

"She was so in love with you, but could barely hold a conversation with you, what was her name? The one with all the freckles," you chuckled.

"Ugh... not Silvia. I haven't thought about her in a very long time. Fortunately she went and married some merchant banker and left me alone," he chucked, guiding you towards a nearby garden.

You walked down a tree-shaded path, crossing a bridge over a trickling creek, and past the playground where children giggled as they played. Elijah led you towards a gazebo, passing by an elderly couple enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon.

"I thought you were going to show me how to find love?" you teased, elbowing him playfully.

He chuckled and put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close against him.

"Look at them over there, two people growing old together," he said softly, nodding towards the couple."That's a beautiful story right there, it goes from meeting, to dating, to falling in love, to having a marriage full of ups and downs. Every difficult time, every disagreement, every moment of compassion and reassurance is enough to have them stay together." He looked at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You listened closely, hanging on every word, studying his expression. Looking up at him as the sunlight came shining through the leafy branches of the trees.

"I bet if we asked them they would tell us the secret to it all," you said quietly, looking back over at the little old couple.

They were wrapped up in their own world, swaying ever so slightly to the soft music playing nearby. Their love for one another so bright.

Elijah stood and walked over to them, sitting down on the bench next to him. You paused for a moment and then followed him, moving to the empty spot beside him.

"Excuse me," Elijah spoke in a voice hushed and sincere. "We just wanted to know," he continued, gently compelling them to answer, "what is the secret of love?"

"Well, I guess, patience," the woman answered sweetly.

The man slowly blinked, his head cocking to the side as he answered, "trust, communication, passion..."

"What is your favorite memory together?" You asked politely, leaning forward.

They looked at one another and burst into hearty, genuine laughter.

"Doing dishes, long drives, waking up to breakfast in bed, cuddling under a blanket in the winter, or just a hug after a bad day..." she answered wistfully.

"All the quiet moments in-between, like coming home after a hard day of work and changing into our comfy clothes," he paused and grabbed her hand, "putting on a movie and just ordering in. We can lay there in one another's arms, always together in that bubble of comfort."

You smiled softly. There's something about the simplicity of it, and the sheer joy in doing those things with the one you love. The ordinary and everyday.

Elijah glanced over at you with a smile, then thanked the couple.

"Thank you, you've been wonderful," Elijah finished kindly.

"I hope you and your lady are just as happy as we are," the man said, turning to kiss his wife lovingly on the cheek.

"I'm sure of it," Elijah stood up and began walking away, holding his hand out for you.

You stood up and intertwined your fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze as you mouthed a thank you towards the elderly man.

"Does that answer your question? Love just happens and it's imperfectly wonderful," Elijah said simply.

"Have you ever found a love like that?" you asked curiously.

He paused and a thoughtful expression fell over his face, wondering where to begin. He placed his hand over yours, stroking the back of your knuckles as he looked deep into your eyes, confessing a feeling he's hidden all this time.

"Only once, when I was too young to understand what I had," he admitted softly. "We were only children then."

Your heart began to beat faster, hearing him say it out loud made your breath hitch in your throat.

"And what about now?" You asked in a near whisper, afraid of what he would say, but unable to live without the answer.

He grinned and suddenly scooped you up, throwing you over his shoulder, just like when you would play flight as children.

You squealed and laughed out in delight.

"What are you doing?" You giggled loudly, slapping his back, but he simply ignored you.

"Reminiscing," he answered swiftly.

"This is hardly reminiscing," you teased.

"To me it is, with you in my arms, laughing," he added cheekily.

You were incredibly flustered, but you didn't want this to stop. It was silly, and unexpected and made you think about all the times you two were together as children. It made you feel as you always did with him, free, alive, all nerves and blushing and awkward touches.

So you just rested your chin against him and giggled loudly as you watched the ground pass by underneath you.

"Where are you taking me?" you questioned softly.

He smiled and didn't answer, biting his lip as he tightened his grip on you.

It didn't take long for you to spot the bridge you walked over, carrying you out onto the sidewalk outside the gardens.

He pulled you up and set you back on your feet, both of you giggling breathlessly, your hands on his chest, his hands on your waist.

The two of you stood there for a moment, eyes scanning one another's face, catching your breaths and gazing longingly. His gaze focused on your lips, while yours focused on his eyes, the fondness in them made your cheeks heat up.

His grip tightened around you, your hands fisting in his shirt as he closed the distance, capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

You swore you could have floated away that moment. His hands cradled your face as you pulled him closer. Your lips parting for him as he deepened the kiss.

You pulled away from the kiss after a moment. "Can we talk about that for a minute?" you said, your gaze fell away, finding it hard to meet his eyes, your heart felt like it would burst from the surges of love that came pouring out.

He shook his head and kissed you again, brushing his nose against yours, a smile across his lips.

"Lets not speak... lets keep kissing," he whispered with a soft laugh.

You smiled and closed your eyes, tilting your head back, enjoying the feel of him loving you after such a long time. The feel of his body against yours.

He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and just taking a moment to enjoy your company. The feeling of your breath against his skin.

"So... let's talk," he smirked against your lips and traced his fingers down the side of your face.

He felt you nod. "Mmm, in bed," you murmured and stole another kiss.

"Okay," he nodded and swiftly scooped you into his arms.

"Nice place," you commented lightly as your eyes scanned over the art and furniture in the compound. "I can see you were in charge of the decor," you said cheekily.

He laughed. "Naturally, darling," he replied. "Klaus is always out for blood and I had to ensure it wasn't on every wall."

Elijah led you down a hallway to a lavish bedroom, opening the door and ushering you in, shutting it carefully behind him. He held you close, his hand on your waist, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear and pulling you in for a kiss.

"Do you remember the last time we were in bed together?" He asked softly.

"You brought me into your home under false pretenses, you said you were going to show me a dagger your father had," you replied, recalling the time you were teenagers, kissing in his bed, all nerves and eagerness.

"I really did want to show you that dagger, my intentions were innocent that evening," he protested lightly. "But then you laid down on my bed, making yourself at home, and there you were, wearing such a sweet little dress with such tantalizing seams all over."

"I can't believe you remember the dress I was wearing," you said, placing your hands on his chest and toying with the buttons of his shirt.

He chuckled. "I remember everything about that day," he smiled, "it was my first kiss, how could I not memorize every detail?"

"What else do you remember?" You asked softly, looking into his eyes.

"I remember laying down beside you, I was so nervous," he admitted softly. "We laid on our backs for a while, just chatting. Your hand brushed against mine and I wrapped my fingers with yours, scared you would push me away," he looked away, lost in the memory, smiling softly.

"I was so sure that you would, but you didn't and we grew quiet, all nerves, side by side." He looked back at you, a twinkle in his eye.

"We could hear the sounds of the village outside as it prepared for the feast. We laid there like that, my heart racing, thumb tracing your palm. I turned to face you, you wore this little shy smile. And there I was, frozen by the way you looked."

"Your hair was braided and those perfect lips were slightly parted," he cupped your cheek, grazing his thumb over your bottom lip. "I was terrified to mess it all up."

You were speechless, all you could do was smile and laugh softly. He began to guide you back towards his bed, still talking as he undressed you slowly, "But we laid there just staring, and gazing into each other's eyes. Slowly I leaned closer, so close we were breathing each other in, just sharing a breath, trying not to spook one another."

"And then, before I knew it, your lips found mine and all of my nervousness melted away. Slow, soft kisses, that little braid tickling my neck and the taste of the berries you had earlier still sweet on your lips."

You blushed at the memory, his words making you tear up, you couldn't believe he remembered.

"Your hands were shaking against my chest, so I lifted them to my lips," he stopped talking for a moment, reenacting the memory by kissing your hands once more.

"Then your mother walked in," you commented, smiling at his gesture.

He smirked against your skin. "Well, before she did," he began, he spoke softly as he slowly unzipped the back of your dress, letting it fall to your feet. "I was... learning the taste of your lips," he continued slowly. "They still taste the same, lovely and sweet,"

His eyes scanned over you, taking in the sight of the most beautiful woman in the world, right there in his room, standing there in nothing but a lacy black bra and underwear.

You smiled and tugged on the buttons of his shirt, eagerly undoing them and pushing his shirt off of his shoulders as you began kissing along his jaw.

"It feels like yesterday," you whispered, moaning against his lips as his hands went to your waist, his fingertips dancing over your skin.

The sensation tickled and made you giggle, trying to pull his hands away but that just sent a whole new wave of laughter bubbling out of you as he pulled you against him with a grin.

The two of you stumbled backwards to the edge of the bed, kissing deeply and continuing to undress each other as you fell onto the mattress in a fit of laughter.

He pinned you down, but you pushed him off, the two of you beginning to wrestle for the upper hand. You giggled and squealed as he tickled you mercilessly, kissing along your neck and biting playfully, all while his fingers danced and caressed over your stomach.

"Elijah, STOP! Hahaha," you pleaded, squirming beneath him. "Stop stop," you laughed.

"What's wrong, my little love," he asked playfully, grabbing your wrists in his hand and pinning them above your head.

You kissed him quickly, grinning when he released you, "Let me breathe!" you said with a laugh.

He smiled warmly, glancing down at your smiling lips. "You make me feel like a teenager again," he admitted softly, then began tickling your sides again, catching you off guard.

You squealed, squirming in his grip and playfully struggling to break free. You could feel his erection brushing against you, his hips pressing between your thighs as he continued to attack you.

"Eli!” You gasped, wriggling your body under him, wrapping your legs around his waist and flipping him over onto his back.

He was laughing along with you, his breathing heavy as he settled beneath you, grinning up at you. “I surrender, you have bested me,” he said, looking up at you in awe.

You smiled and sat back on his lap, "oh don't give me that cheeky grin," you replied, wrinkling your nose at him.

His hands fell to your thighs, squeezing them as he smiled. You rocked your hips slowly, grinding yourself on his cock. He moaned softly, his mouth hung open as he watched the way you moved above him. Your lace panties rubbing over the rough material of his pants.

"I've dreamed of this for centuries," he confessed in a whisper. "You on my lap, your hands on me, the beauty of your body..."

Your eyes glanced down as he spoke, admiring his abs and the V-shaped muscles running down below his waistband. You made eye contact and started to slowly unhook your bra, letting it fall to the ground before tossing it to the floor.

He groaned softly, admiring the softness of your breasts and the perk of your nipples. You caught him staring and smiled, taking his hands into yours and placing them on you, urging him to touch you.

He sat up, capturing a nipple between his lips, leaving a trail of kisses along your breasts, cupping and massaging them in his hands. He kissed up your chest to your neck and found your lips again, kissing you slowly and passionately. He broke the kiss, glancing into your eyes with a look of raw, aching love.

"You know what would have happened if my mother didn't walk in?" He murmured, keeping his voice low and hushed, nearly a whisper.

You simply shook your head.

"I would've put my head between these thighs," he continued, squeezing them in his strong hands. "I would've made you giggle and squirm until you surrendered to my lips," he grabbed your hips and rocked you along his length, making your breath hitch in your throat.

"You would've gotten me pregnant," you chuckled, thinking back to how naive and innocent the two of you were, no idea of the consequences of what you had been attempting.

He smiled and grabbed your face gently, "then I would have made you my wife," he grinned and leaned forward, whispering against your lips, "and we would have grown old together, watching our little ones run through the village... a full happy life," he kissed you again.

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I always dreamed of waking up to your beautiful face every morning," he said softly. “Perhaps if time and circumstances treated us kindly…”

You felt a little sad at his words, imagining the perfect little life you could have had together. "I would have liked that," you said slowly, gazing into his kind eyes.

You held a gaze with him for a moment before kissing him again, reaching down to his pants, unbuttoning them with slow, careful movements. He watched as you tugged them down and off of his legs and then lowered down to kiss him again, rubbing your core against his length.

He pulled your panties to the side, tracing his fingers over your clit, rubbing it with slow and loving circles.

You broke the kiss, your forehead pressed against his, your eyes shut tightly as he pleasured you, massaging your clit with expertise. "‘lijah...," you let out a little moan. "Where did you learn that?"

He grinned, biting his lip as he watched the pleasure on your face. "I've been practicing with all these other women, waiting to have a chance with you." He replied.

You opened your eyes, an expression of faux hurt painted across your face. "Are you trying to say I was your last resort?"

He grabbed the back of your neck with a playful smirk, "you are my only choice, my love," he guided you back to his lips and kissed you deeply, his free hand cupping your ass, tugging you against him.

"Only choice," you repeated between kisses, grinding on his fingers as he pleased you.

"I love you, it was only ever you," he declared, his eyes scanning your face with intensity.

You smiled and stole another kiss from him. "Then, prove it," you whispered against his lips.

He grinned and pulled his hand away, suddenly ticking your sides again and making you laugh and whimper out playfully as he flipped you over onto your back.

You were laughing uncontrollably, grinning as you kissed him back while he tickled you. You gasped for air and submitted beneath him as he kissed and nipped his way down your body.

Finally, he made his way to your core, hooking a finger under the lace and pulling your panties down. He tossed them to the floor and dove in, draping your thighs over his shoulders, burying his mouth into you.

You gasped, laughing as you fell back onto the mattress, rocking your hips against him. He grinned up at you as he swiped his tongue over your clit.

"Allll these women, practice, and nothing to show for it," you sighed as you teased him, breathy and laced with laughter.

He looked up, a flash of competitiveness crossing his face as he eased two fingers inside you and nipped at the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your teasing was replaced with mewls and moans as you ran your fingers through his hair and rode his tongue, soft curses and whispered pleas were all you managed to get out.

He closed his eyes and took his time, one hand around your thigh, stroking circles over your skin, while his tongue and fingers worked in union. He couldn't believe he had you, right here, and he intended to make you feel every bit of love he had to offer.

He smirked against your heat as you tightened your grip on his hair, pulling him closer, grinding your hips against his mouth. He has dreamed of this moment for one thousand years, but the real thing was so much better than he had ever imagined.

You trembled and squeezed your legs around him, moaning and gasping as you were pulled closer to your climax. He urged you on as you fucked his mouth, whimpering softly, your free hand bunched up the bed sheets.

The stimulation was too much as he hummed and sucked your clit, your body shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. Your thighs gripped his head like a vice and your body stiffened as you cried out his name, digging your heels into the bed to try and ride it out on his mouth.

You tugged his head away, panting and trying to regain control of your body, your head still spinning.

You gasped and laughed, covering your face.

He smirked, as he wiped his mouth on your thigh.

You smiled down at him, "okay…maybe one thousand years was enough time to gain some skill," you chuckled, pulling him close for a kiss.

His hands trailed over your breasts, slowly kneading them and rolling your nipples between his fingers. You mewled softly against his lips, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He kissed your forehead, your nose and along your jaw, sucking a hickey into the side of your neck, watching it instantly heal. He could do this forever, tasting your skin and listening to the perfect little sounds you made.

You pushed gently on his chest, urging him to lay down, which he did happily, holding your hand as he laid on his back.

You peppered kisses down his neck to his chest, biting at his firm chest muscles and kissing down his toned abs, making your way to his erection.

"I've learned some skills as well," you teased, pressing kisses up the side of his length, placing a final kiss to the tip.

He groaned softly, smiling down at you, "oh really? I'd love to see that," he whispered encouragingly.

You opened your mouth slowly and lowered down, taking him all the way into your mouth. He moaned softly, tilting his head back and biting his lip as his fingers tangled in your hair.

You swirled your tongue around him, using the tips of your fingers to stroke the base, glancing up to watch the way his body reacted to your movements.

His lips were parted, his eyes shut. As his breathing grew ragged he smiled softly, letting his head fall back against the pillows as you pleasured him.

You hummed, bobbing up and down along his shaft, savoring the sweet sounds that left his throat.

He began to tug on your hair, taking handfuls as you quickened the pace, licking and sucking enthusiastically, slurping as you sucked on the tip.

You released his cock with a pop, stroking and pumping him in your hand, using your spit to keep it slick. You traced your thumb over the head, tapping him against your tongue.

He moaned softly, gripping the headboard with his free hand, slowly bucking his hips.

You took him in again, one final time, swirling your tongue, bobbing and sucking, pushing him all the way down your throat.

He let out a long, sexy groan as he reached his peak. "Yes, darling, yes... just like that...I'm-" he grunted, before spilling over your tongue with a deep, guttural moan.

You swallowed, licking and sucking him, milking him completely before pulling off. He stared down at you, his face was clenched and contorted, an expression of pure pleasure painted across his features. Then he sat up slowly pulling you against him in a messy kiss.

"How was that?" You asked softly against his lips.

He grinned against your mouth and kissed you again, cradling your face. "I don't think there are words that could describe...," he took a moment to catch his breath before continuing, his eyes lidded, still high on his climax. "How much I love you," he whispered against your lips.

"I bet you say that to every girl that has given you good head," you teased.

He furrowed his brow, watching your little grin. "Do you think I use that word lightly?... I love you, only you...," he pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes.

You ran your fingers through his hair, studying his features as you smiled.

"I love you too, Elijah," you whispered, pressing a slow, caring kiss to his lips.

You found yourself suddenly overwhelmed with love, with the memory of all the lost time you had missed with him. Tears formed in your eyes as you kissed him, causing him to break the kiss.

He studied your expression with worry. "What's the matter?" He asked softly.

"I don't want to miss another day," you replied, brushing away your tears, a goofy smile across your face.

He smiled at you with a chuckle. "Well, darling, we just have one thousand years of catching up to do," he said softly, wiping away your tears. "Not to mention all the other days to come after,"

You let out a little laugh as he pulled you into his arms, his strong hands roaming over your curves as he flipped you back underneath him.

"I can't wait," you said breathlessly, pulling him down for a passionate kiss.

Elijah smiled against your lips and kept one hand at your waist as he dragged the tip of his cock over your pussy, drenched from the pleasure and anticipation. He eased in slowly, sinking inside your warm center and muffling a groan against your neck. You let out a soft sigh, feeling so complete now that you were finally connected.

He lifted his head and gazed into your eyes, placing a hand against your cheek as he started to thrust slowly. He was quiet as he rolled his hips, his gaze flickering between watching his cock slowly sliding in and out of you, covered in your wetness, and you, biting your lip, your eyes squeezed shut as he filled you.

You moaned at his size, already sensitive from your last orgasm, the stretch felt amazing, your nails digging into his firm muscles. His large hands were clutched around your hips, steadying you as he fucked you in a slow, gentle pace.

"Listen to you," he grinned, "making such beautiful sounds for me," he praised, nipping at your ear.

His words went straight to your core as your breathing grew raspy, squeezing his cock so tightly that you pushed him out of you, moaning quietly.

"Mmm," he bit his lip, tapping his cock against your clit and then ran it back and forth over your wetness, admiring the view before guiding his cock back into you. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked softly, dropping a kiss to your forehead.

You shook your head, your eyes still shut. "No, you are just...very well-endowed, that's all," you giggled..

He rocked inside you for a moment, his hands gripping your hips. "Should I stop?" He whispered.

"Don't you dare stop, you owe me one thousand years of this," you cupped his cheek, pulling his face to yours, pressing your lips together.

"Who am I to deny you?" He kissed you slowly, his tongue danced with yours as he found his rhythm again, thrusting deep, his hands holding your thighs open.

He bit your lip and gazed at you, still not totally believing the vision of beauty beneath him.

The pure sexual lust that had built up between you paired with the overflowing love you felt for each other, made everything more intense. Your orgasms building, the clench around his length, the grip of your hands on his muscles. It felt like time had stopped for you both, existing only in the carnal moment you were sharing.

He moaned as you tightened around him, pushing your knees up to your waist to deepen his thrust. He trailed one hand down your soft skin and ran a thumb over your swollen clit, rubbing it in slow, tender circles.

You gasped and whimpered out his name, you were so sensitive and yet were so close to tumbling over again, "please, don't stop," you whispered urgently, a pleading look in your eyes.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and continued rubbing your clit, rolling his hips, giving you long, passionate strokes.

"That's it, that's it," he whispered through grunts. "Just like that, my darling," he breathed, lowering down to kiss you.

The love you made was passionate and sweet, soft and timid. It felt like it was all meant to be, pure, passionate love, made only for each other.

He used all his willpower to hold back his own, wanting to feel you release around him. Your body slowly stiffened, squeezing around his length, making him moan deeply. He didn't stop moving, encouraging you with gentle words in your ear and kisses to your cheek.

He couldn't hold on any longer, feeling you twitch, your mouth hung open in a silent moan as you reached your peak. A quiet, guttural groan rumbled deep in his chest as he spilled his warm cum inside you.

He pressed his forehead to yours as he breathed heavily, whispering sweet praises and confessions as you both held one another, sharing small and gentle kisses.

He rolled on to his side, bringing you with him, keeping you connected and moving your thigh over his hip to bury himself deeper. Neither of you wanted to let go of the feeling of being joined.

He snaked one arm behind your back to draw you even closer, and reached the other up to brush your hair out of your face. He kissed you deeply and ran his fingertips over your soft skin, moving them up and down your back as you looked into one another's eyes.

"That was..." you sighed happily.

"Yeah..." He smiled softly and let his eyes wander over your features, as if trying to sear it into his brain.

"I can't believe we waited so long to do this," you whispered, stroking your hands up and down his arms.

"Our days of waiting are over," he smiled softly, leaning down to kiss you again. His mouth on yours, swallowing your little moans, his fingers stroking your sides, both of you completely consumed by the other.

The room was dimly lit, candle flames casting a warm glow around you. Time finally gave you a break, let you have this moment you both were longing for all these years.

He loved you. You loved him, and now you were finally together. After one thousand years, it was well worth the wait.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡

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[twstjam]

Lost Invitation (Part 1) - Rain Check

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!! and happy en glomas day everyone! :D To celebrate, here's part 1 of a new fic I started writing on impulse <3

Characters: Yuu, Grim, Malleus Draconia, Heartslabyul (mentioned) Word count: 2.8k Summary: You're committed to helping Riddle Rosehearts and his card soldiers in a war against followers of the Jabberwock looking to usurp the rulers of Red and White. You're also in love with a stranger you met in the woods who wants you to run away with him. Whoever said that love and war weren't so different might've been onto something. In your experience, they're both equally difficult. Nobody ever said that you had to choose between one or the other though. Ao3 Link Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

If you were asked two years ago whether or not you wished to fight in a war, your answer, reasonably, would most definitely have been a big, fat NO. You would be quicker to pack up all your things and vanish with Grim before the enemy army could even begin their march to the Boardfield, the traditional field of battle for the Queendoms of Roses and Lilies.

Though the Rosehearts and Whitelily families are infamously known for their quarrels, it's not unheard of for them to unite in times of peril. Even when currently under the leadership of constantly-conflicting young rulers Riddle Rosehearts and Wystan Whitelily this isn't untrue. When the Jabberwocks declared war on the Whitelilies, Riddle had been quick to offer his assistance.

And as someone working for the Rosehearts family, that had meant your assistance as well.

And you didn't want to be involved in a war. No one did. All of this had nothing to do with you, a magicless outsider who couldn't contribute meaningfully if you tried, so really it was best that you got out of the way as soon as possible… but who would you be if you didn't at least try to help out your friends?

You don't know when it happened, but the card soldiers and Riddle himself have become almost like family to you.You have no obligation to stay and help, even Riddle had assured you of that, but you're still not sure if it's your lack of self-perservation or sheer stupidity that had told him you wouldn't leave.

Even if it was expected, being a part of a war was hard and stressful and the days seemed to stretch longer and longer. You spend practically every waking and sleeping moment working tirelessly near a cauldron, brewing potion after potion for the use of the card soldiers. Your alchemy skills had been taught by famed alchemist Divus Crewel himself, but they can only take you so far.

You barely get full eight hours of sleep. You don't even want to imagine how Riddle and Wystan are faring. You barely see your friends anymore, let alone in a peaceful environment, and every time they head out with the troops there's no guarantee they would return.

Your days are hectic and unpredictable… but, at the very least, you have something to look forward to. Something to ground you and make you feel at ease. Or more accurately… a someone.

----

Potion ingredient runs are your favorite to do. At the very least, you do them once a week, but if potions are burnt through fast then the travels to gather herbs become more and more frequent, to your delight. Stressed as you are, you're not eager to do work as much as you are eager to get out of your cramped room cluttered with books and scrolls and herbs that is also more often than not reeking with the mixture of smells of dozens of different potions. You spend so much time in there though that you barely notice until you're walking out of a magic mirror into the open outdoors lush with greenery and colourful with blooming flowers of sweet fragrances.

Being surrounded by the beauty of nature is only one of the upsides though. As your horse brings you and the wagon deeper into the quiet but lively woods, tall, decayed stone walls slowly come into view. So many plants have made themselves at home in the cracks between the stone that from a distance it's not recognizable as an aged structure forgotten by time.

Once upon a time it was a grand tower home to a reclusive mage and alchemist. They kept their research hidden away and secret from the world… that is, until, other mages discovered their body in the tower about a decade after their death.

A majority of folk are scared to even speak about the tower, let alone visit it, and maybe once you would've been the same, but living in a haunted mansion for a few months sort of desensitizes one to the presence of any kind of ghost.

Ace and Deuce had gotten concerned when you bragged about it once. They were probably right to be, but it's not like it'd be any good even if you were afraid of ghosts. Instead of the phantom of a paranoid, lonely mage, when you had visited the tower for herbs for the first time you had instead encountered a very alive mage instead, though he's not any less lonely and secretive.

Your mysterious horned friend, whom Grim had creatively dubbed Tsunotarou, had been haunting the old ruins one night while you were gathering some rare nocturnal herbs. You had gotten spooked by a pair of reptilian green eyes peering at you from the dark, but Tsunotarou, though he was tall and horned and wrapped in elegant robes made out of the night sky, had seemed more wary of your unassuming human presence garbed in a stained alchemist's uniform. He hadn't been expecting someone else to be there. At least that made two of you.

Despite the surprise of an unwanted companion at his beloved abandoned ruins, Tsunotarou had come back, and the two of you had struck a conversation. Considering the oddness of both of your choice of location to spend your evenings, it wasn't hard to think of things to talk about. Somehow, this had led into a friendship forming between the two of you, and now when you go on your trips for herbs, it also means seeing Tsunotarou. It means cosy evenings picking herbs while he talks your ear off about the most niche topics, at the same time staining his own gloves with dirt and tearing them on briars as he helps you.

You never ask him to help. He had simply commented once that it seemed like tiring work, at the same time asking you what herbs you needed before kneeling down and gathering them for you. It's become routine since then for him to assist you, and neither of you say anything about it as you work in the comfort of each other's presence.

In a hectic life, Tsunotarou has become your anchor, your safe space. Your home away from home. The closeness you feel with him sort of just crept up on you one day, and before you know it he's made himself at home in your heart. You don't know—can't know if you're as important to him and you'd never ask, but he's become close to you like you've become close to him and you're angry at yourself for it because now your stupid heart wants to do anything for him like it does with Riddle and the others and you definitely don't have enough space on your shoulders for it.

So it's painful when Tsunotarou looks at you, no doubt taking in the sight of your paled skin and sunken eyes and says, "Come home with me."

You know why he asks. Had asked it before, and it had hurt just as much the other times, but he keeps asking, persistent. It's something you've learned is part of his non-human biology, something that comes with his horns, his tail, his eyes, his ears, and his fangs. It's part of who he is to want to keep people close, like his grandmother, his parents, his caretaker Lilia, and now you.

"I can't," you say, every time. You want to but at the same time you don't. You're curious and eager to see more and learn more about your dear friend (perhaps even his actual name one of these days), but your heart also belongs with Riddle and the card soldiers and you won't abandon them. "You know I can't."

"And you know I cannot bear seeing you so overworked and exhausted," Tsunotarou says, gentle but also stern as he caresses your cheek in his hand and despite your refusal of his offer to care for you, you lean into his touch, your heart yearning for comfort after denying it for too long.

"You also know your mother doesn't like humans," you remind him.

"I will hide you, then," he says, insistent, despite how the idea is so childish to the point that you laugh.

"That's not going to work and you know it."

"You will not believe the fabrications my mother would believe if they were to come from me," Tsunotarou boasts, his head tilted up in pride at being a mama's boy. You huff a fond laugh.

"Still, no matter how much she loves you I don't think she would appreciate you hiding a strange human in her home without her permission." You cradle his hand on your cheek with your own and lower it away. You're immediately mournful at the loss of his touch, but thankfully you have the impulse control to be able to release his hand and begin the walk back to your wagon, where you would then go home with all of your gathered ingredients and… go straight back to work.

Tsunotarou catches your hand before you can get far. You don't have to look to see the pleading expression on his face and you don't want to, instead smiling sadly at your feet.

"We shall get our own place then," he blurts out. "Just the two of us. Nobody can bother us ever again. There will be no wars. You will not have to work a day in your life. Let me take care of you."

You're too stunned to speak. His words leave you breathless, pondering if he knew the weight behind saying something like that, the implications. If he knows that his touch sends goosebumps rising through your skin, makes you yearn and ache as he laces his fingers with yours and squeezes.

You don't notice him sidling up closer behind you until he is. He tugs on your hand and turns you around with his other hand on the small of your back. You're face-to-chest with him, having to place your hands on his firm chest and crane your neck to look up at him. It's a mistake, because the desperation in his eyes frighteningly makes your resolve falter.

"Please," he whispers in a tone perhaps unbefitting of someone so imposing in appearance but to you could not be more fitting for your gentle, caring friend. "Stay with me."

You're helpless as he curls gentle clawed fingers around your jaw and leans down. Hot breath ghosts over your lips. You shudder, and the urge to close the distance is so overwhelming—

You pull away. Blink. Squint your eyes shut to force away the images that crop up in your mind of him. Him and you. Together.

"No," you whisper. "I… we can't."

He doesn't have to ask why. It's obvious enough based on the confused and hurt furrow of his brow.

There are many reasons why. You're afraid. You don't know his name. He loves his mother and his mother would hate him. He's noble-blooded and you're not. He's a mage and you're magicless. He's something much greater regardless of whatever kind of being he is. You're just you. You're useless. Can't even help your friends enough that they won't have to deal with all the bullshit with the Jabberwocks anymore and live peaceful lives again.

"It's… not the right time," you say with a small squeeze around his own hand. "We both have responsibilities that we have to put first."

You're not fully confident that the opportunity will arrive. Who knows how much longer the war will last. Tsunotarou might even find someone actually worthy of him by then, so you don't want to get your hopes up. At the very least you can reject him in a way that won't squash his, and you're relieved when his eyes brighten.

"Someday, then," he says, and it's not set in stone but still he sounds as if he's convinced it's written in the stars. Someday. Someday.

Tsunotarou bends at the waist and kisses your knuckles. Warmth gathers in your face and you have to force back a lopsided smile. Maybe it isn't so bad to have something to look forward to…

"Someday," you echo back.

----

You're startled awake by an odd sound.

You look down and realise you'd fallen asleep on your desk again. There's drool staining the page you'd been reading, a complicated recipe on a type of energy elixir you're trying to memorise. You wipe the corner of your mouth, no longer concerned at being annoyed by being woken up from a nice dream that's already fading from your mind, instead relieved that there's no one (Ace) around to make fun of you for drooling on invaluable books again…

Wait, where's Grim?

You remember that he had been dozing off in a corner of the desk, curled up on top of an open book with the excuse that he was "helping" (he does help, bless him, but sleep was calling to him in that particular moment) but he's not there. You sit up and look around. His bed by the window is empty, and so is every other surface in the room he could to lounge on regardless of whether or not it was a book or a scroll and you needed it.

It's not unlikely for him to wander off of course, but a part of you feels strangely antsy at having found yourself alone. Technically, you're not alone. Riddle and the others aren't around again unfortunately, having left to meet up with Wystan and his own soldiers with your fresh potions, but there are the ghosts of the castle lurking about somewhere or other and the castle staff, too. None of them are around at the moment though, so your surroundings feel eerily quiet and lonely.

That's likely why you feel so unnerved, you think, as you get up from your chair to begin looking for Grim. He's likely to be in the kitchen, the gluttonous thing. You stretch out your sore limbs and your stomach rumbles. Grabbing a snack doesn't sound too bad.

You fix the pouches on your belt that had gotten a bit crooked and leave your room. There's no one around that you can see. It's not unusual; it is a big castle, but for whatever reason you feel tingles go up your back, your body wary of a nonexistent danger behind you. You take a step forward—

"*FGNAAAAA!!! Unhand me! Myah! Henchman, *help!!!*"

"Grim?!" You whirl around at the sound of his voice and sprint in its direction. You skid to a stop, blood going cold when you see five people dressed in uniforms with the emblem of a creature with eyes of flame, rough hands trying to get a grip at Grim's wriggling body.

Jabberwocks. And they have Grim.

"That's the alchemist!" shouts out one of the Jabberwocks trying to secure Grim. The three currently unoccupied immediately lunge towards you and you barely slip away.

You almost trip over your feet as you try to reach into your pouches while at the same time evading the intruders. Grim is hissing and yelling. You grit your teeth and, with conviction, pull out a small bottle of translucent orange liquid. You toss it at their feet and the splatters of liquid that fly up into the air come to life and cranky fire lizards climb up their bodies and burn through their clothes. As they scream and try to throw off the lizards, you run past them with another potion in hand, ready to aim it at Grim's captors.

One of the two trying to keep him still intercepts your throw, grasping your wrist and twisting it painfully behind your back until you drop the potion. You yell out in pain, your vision blurry with tears as you're forced down to the floor.

"Get your hands off of my henchman!" Grim yowls. He leaps out of the grasp of the Jabberwock and blue fire spurts out of his mouth and catch on the clothes of your assailant.

He breathes in for a stronger burst of fire but the other Jabberwock grab him and frantically lock an anti-magic collar around his neck.

You kick and struggle beneath the Jabberwock on your back. You reach desperately for the other potions on your belt, all the while screaming a lot of choice words in a voice you hope is shrill enough to deafen or call other people to come to your and Grim's rescue.

You're quickly silenced with a gag, blindfolded, tied up, and unceremoniously slung over someone's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You continue to kick and scream, but it's useless as magic swirls around you and both you and Grim vanish from the castle.

[princelylove]

To be honest with you Your Highness, I have always felt afraid of Bruno for some reasons. When I rewatched part 5 with my best friend, they kept commenting how hot he was and all, I tried to imagine him but he scares me. I feel like he hides so much that sometimes it slips away, I would be totally afraid of staying near him even if he was smiling

Your fear is warranted, but displeases him greatly. It stresses him out, I should say. He's never displeased with his darling amore, but he'd much rather have you welcome him with loving arms than freeze when he so much as breathes in your presence.

The foundation of Bruno- of Bruno Bucciarati- is the fact that he is a good man. End of sentence, end of thought.

He's just trying to help. He loves you, he's just trying to take care of you. The rest of the team loves Bruno- he's great! They wouldn't be here if it weren't for him- he's not the type to do some crazy shit randomly, you're probably just mixing reality and whatever nightmares you're having from joining the mafia.

You like Bruno, the husband, but dislike Bucciarati, the mafioso, surely. Bruno's true self- the mix of both, Bruno Bucciarati- is not something easy to figure out at a distance, because he doesn't like the idea of his darling, or anyone else for that matter, looking into him beyond how he presents himself.

You're not really encouraged to look into mafiosi in general. Especially not a capo. Don't snoop, for your own safety's sake.

Despite strongly disliking liars, Bucciarati can lie through his teeth and sleep soundly at night. Bruno, however, feels a sort of discomfort in lying to those he holds in high regards- it's sort of cruel. The least he can do is be honest.

Most of the time, he is. Bruno is not a quick thinker, nor is he innately creative, making him a just-alright type of liar. His lies have to be thought of in advance- he wishes conversation was more like combat. Combat is easy, you survive and you protect, at all costs. Conversation is a mental battle he never trained for- he's a sociable man, but he's been surviving off of letting other people fill in the gaps for him. There's also the fact that the people Bruno finds himself interested in aren't to be lied to.

Bruno has a type, actually. I think most yanderes that fall into Bruno's niche (Jotaro, Risotto) would want someone that needs them. Someone smaller, someone weaker, someone that isn't capable of living without someone else. Of course you don't have to hit every box for Bruno to take interest, he could fall for someone taller, but he can't help but think the size difference with a smaller darling is oh-so-adorable. He has this habit of getting as close as possible and looking down at the both of your shoes, which, he could always just be checking his footing, but it's apparent he's gauging your size difference when he's only doing it with you.

Bruno prefers someone that is only pretending to be independent, or is just openly dependent. Bruno can only survive if he feels needed. Being loved is debatable, you'll always love the hand that feeds you, in a way. You can fall in love down the line once you get over these fears, Bruno's willing to prove that he's the safest man you'll ever meet.

Of course, if this isn't mutual, it's creepy as hell. The real reason that Bruno frightens you, besides from everything else I've described as off about him, is the fact that he does not, and will never, respect your boundaries. He's constantly pushing, whether you want it yet or not.

Bruno is not a man that will ever bend or break. There's nothing that can deter him once he has his mind on doing something- he shares such logic with plenty of other yanderes, but Bruno is a special case, because of his willpower.

Bruno lost his willpower before canon takes place. He has no motive to move elsewhere within the famiglia, his main motivation to get out of bed in the morning is caring for his little family- his famigliola, as he's tried to tell you- and honestly, majority of them are independent types and too old to be coddled. And even then, they're kind of odd, his youngest acts like the oldest and his oldest acts like the youngest, he has no idea how to handle them sometimes. Fathers are only good for spoiling and disciplining, not really any of the actual raising part. You do fun things with daddy, he doesn't make sure you're eating actual good dinners- that's where his darling comes in!

To Bruno, fighting meeting Giorno was like getting a second wind. He was in a massive rut emotionally, and was losing the sense of justice he clung to. Meeting his darling, after that. . . it was like breathing air for the first time. Regaining his soul.

So he can't just fold. It isn't over until it's over, and it's only over when he goes back to dust.

Bruno doesn't really understand what he's doing wrong. He has everything he needs to be appealing. He takes care of himself, he knows how to speak to people, he can provide both financially and emotionally, really, what is it?

When Bruno finds himself starting to feel agitated instead of hopeful you're coming around, then you may be afraid. Perhaps a little fear is good for you, long-term.

[sebastianswallows]

A new family — Chapter 2

— PAIRING: dark!Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: Ominis gets tired of his family and how miserable life is with them after he graduates. So he follows Sebastian's example for once, and kills them in cold blood. Now that he has the mansion to himself, he discovers he would still like to have a family, but one of his own making.

— WARNINGS: none, just Omi being sneaky

— WORDCOUNT: 2k

— TAGLIST: @littletealight @skarathewitch

“This is a pretty impressive place…”

“Is it? I never noticed.”

“You’re just being facetious now.”

“I assure you, I’m not.”

When she arrived at the mansion via floo, Ominis was there to greet her. The fireplace in the living room was large enough for her to stand in. The elves carried her suitcase upstairs while Ominis served her mint lemonade to clear her throat after the powdery journey. Then, he led her on a tour of the place.

He could tell from her tone of voice that she liked it. This was probably on the grander side of things compared to what she was used to. It was curious, walking ahead of her and hearing the subtle ways her voice changed when she looked up or behind her as he described each room, gawking, he imagined, in a bit of wonder.

Gaunt manor was not the greatest wizarding residence by far, ranking far below what the Blacks and Malfoys owned. The family was past its golden years and in this generation had fallen, befittingly, to silver, thanks to his father’s unwise spending and his mother’s rash investment choices. Marvolo, the celebrated son, was even worse at managing expenses than their parents were.

Ominis didn’t use to care. It could all turn to dust as far as he was concerned. But now that he was on course to being the sole inheritor (once he resolved the Marvolo issue), he found himself being a bit more interested.

So it soothed him somewhat to hear his friend so impressed with the estate.

“You can stay however long you wish, you know,” he smiled, turning his head toward her as he led her up the stairs.

“What about your parents?” she asked.

“Oh, they’ve been gone for over a week already. If they were going to return, I’m sure they would have by now.”

“Don’t you think you should go looking for them?”

“No,” he said coolly. “Why?”

“Right… I forgot how you felt about them.”

“It’s not about how I felt about them,” he pressed, stopping at the top of the stairs. “It’s how they were.”

“Or how they are?”

He paused, privately embarrased by how he almost gave himself away. Did Sebastian ever slip up like this?

“Well, right now they are not here, so it’s irrelevant.” Before she could read too much into his words, he changed his tone and smiled. “Come, I’ll show you to your bedroom.”

There were many rooms to choose from, but he gave her a suite right next to his, on the eastern side of the house. It caught the first light in the morning and was quite dark at night, perfect for a restful stay. What he didn’t mention was that there was a little door blended into the wallpaper that connected her room to his.

“The elves must’ve brought your luggage here by now.”

“They have,” she said with a bright smile as she walked around the room. “But, Ominis, you know I could make do with a little cupboard to live in…”

“Nonsense,” he grinned. “You’re my guest, and I want you to feel welcome. Now, make yourself comfortable and afterwards I’ll show you the grounds outside. We can have lunch there too.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll be in the living room.”

The ticking of the grandfather clock mounted above the fireplace filled the silence while he waited for her. He’d already told the elves to prepare a lunch for two at the large table on the veranda near the rose garden, and had given them a plan for the whole next week filled with the dishes he knew she liked. Every meal, every sweet, even the drinks, all were chosen from her favourites. The bookshelves in the reading room as well were stocked with her favourite books, and as he picked them, he’d taken the liberty to bring out some of his father’s hidden studies on dark magic.

It was a subject he had long avoided, although over the years it became impossible to escape the teachings of his parents, especially those that were enforced on him. He’d tried to forget all the curses, the jinxes and hexes they’d taught him, and now he strove to remember them.

Something had always felt wasted about his childhood, and he used to think that was because of how unhappy he was around his family — and what a tragedy that was all on its own, to not feel safe at home, among his only flesh and blood — but now Ominis began to think it was because of his repressions. He’d rejected dark magic because they liked it, he willed himself to be the opposite of his tormentors, and fashioned himself into someone who was a stranger to them… but also to himself.

How many opportunities had he missed out on by forcing himself into a wilful mental construction, a fake persona, an act of escapism? How many adventures, how much fun, how much exploration of the magic and the literature that existed, even in the small world of his childhood, had he kicked away from himself out of fear? He had been — and still felt himself as being — so concerned with the notion of regret, of mistakes, of needless trouble, that he had forgotten to live. Now, he found himself with no life at all.

“That’s about to change,” he said to himself as he waited quietly in the armchair for his friend to come down the stairs. “It might feel like it’s too late, but it isn’t. It’s never too late.”

“What isn’t too late?” she asked breathlessly as she stepped into the living room.

“Lunch,” he smiled, getting up from the armchair with a spring in his step. “With me, outside.”

“The room is lovely, by the way. Thank you,” she said as she came closer. “I’m ready now”

Ominis closed the distance and took her hand, hearing a little gasp escape her. “This way.”

He led her out through another door, opposite to the main entrance, into a hallway that opened to a pair of glass doors. Ominis could feel the sunlight streaming on his face as they approached and passed through it out onto the grounds. This was the back of the house, with a little maze of hedges and a fountain with a statue of a serpent in the middle.

“That over there is supposed to be a basilisk,” he said. “By the sound of it, it’s turned on.”

“Turned on?”

“It’s streaming water from its mouth, is it not?”

“Oh,” she giggled. “Yes, it is.”

A smile curved Ominis’ lips, and he held her hand tighter.

He didn’t even need the wand to show him the way, he knew it by heart. Going around, he walked with her to the front, where the gravel turned to a neat cobblestone path.

“You can see the forest far to the right,” he said without turning. “Where my parents disappeared.”

“What is in those woods?” she asked quietly.

“Old oaks and beech trees. And a few wild animals too. Foxes, deer, wolves, and boars mostly…”

“Do you think that’s what happened to them?”

“Possibly. They’re just as likely to have tripped on an overgrown tree root as to have been mauled by a boar,” he shrugged.

She knew how he felt about his parents, and most importantly knew why. Every summer was a reminder, when her letters never reached him and she spent the months wondering how he was. She had come to fear his parents almost as much as he did.

It gave some comfort now to Ominis that he didn’t have to hide his indifference toward their deaths, even if it was for a reason she did not yet suspect. So he walked forward with her hand in his and showed her around the other side of the mansion.

“This is where the greenhouse is,” he said, pointing vaguely ahead. “It is connected to the house.”

“It looks lovely!”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he chuckled. “We grow some poisonous plants there, so be wary. But it is otherwise a comfortable spot, especially in winter. Makes for good reading.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she grinned. “Although I’m not sure I will still be here come winter.”

“We’ll see about that,” he smirked, his face turning toward her slightly. “Now, we come to the best part.”

A bit toward the right from where they started, behind a certain angle of the house, was a little flower garden enclosed by stout green shrubs. A few fruit trees grew there too, apples and cherries heavy with fruit. Songbirds rested in their branches. But what dominated the field were waves and waves of white roses.

“Oh, Ominis,” she said with wonder. “It’s so beautiful.”

They slowed their pacing as they approached, and he took the time to feel her hand in his. It was warm, and soft, and his began to sweat, but he could not let go.

The rose garden was not as well tended as it should have been. His parents didn’t think it a priority. It was a wild and thorny growth, coiled and dangerous, but Ominis was still fond of it. It was mostly tended to by the elves, and primarily at his instruction.

“Careful you don’t get pricked,” he said, squeezing her hand as they got closer.

“Don’t worry,” he heard her grin. “I’ve been through worse than a flower garden.”

“Not a Gaunt one, I’m sure,” he smirked.

“You’re not that scary, Omi,” she said fondly, turning toward him. The scent of roses surrounded them now.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm…”

“How long do you plan to stay?” he suddenly asked.

They stopped in front of a large rose bush and she let go of his hand so that she could touch them, smell them, feel their velvety petals.

“Not very long,” she said. “I wouldn’t like to impose.”

“It’s no imposition,” said Ominis, stepping closer. “On the contrary… I want you here.”

“Really?” she asked innocently, turning toward him. “What for?”

“For company?” he offered. “For companionship? For…”

“You miss Hogwarts, don’t you?” she grinned.

“I miss you.”

She said nothing, and for a moment the breath froze in his lungs. He had said too much… But then, her fingers curled around his own again and she held his cold hand in hers.

“I’ve missed you too,” she said closely. The intimacy of it made him flush.

“I… I’m glad to hear that,” he grinned.

“Are you?”

Holding her hand, he stepped closer. “Stay longer,” said Ominis. He could feel her breath fan on his neck. “Stay the whole summer, and even longer than that.”

“Why?” she asked quietly.

“I never want to miss you again.”

“Ominis…”

“I know it’s a bit unexpected coming from me. I was always a bit of a cold fish, wasn’t I?”

“No…”

“Not hot-blooded like Sebastian, right?”

“No, that’s not —”

“I’m all alone in this house,” he said. “But I don’t regret that my family disappeared. I don’t expect they’ll appear again, and if they do you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“I know,” she said. “I trust you.”

“But I don’t want to live here alone. If I want to spend my days with anyone, it’s with you.”

“I… I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to say anything now. I just told you so that you know where I stand.”

She said nothing. Although he couldn’t see her face, he could feel her hand getting damp in his grasp, could feel the hints of nervous trembling and excitement. It said more than her face or her words ever could.

“And if you change your mind at any point… If Sebastian ever writes back,” he said with a light smirk, “then you are free to leave. And, of course, to return.”

He knew what she was thinking. Sebastian would only get in touch with her when he wanted something — that’s what he always did. And by leaving the door open for her to return, Ominis already placed into her mind the inevitability that, should Sebastian show interest in her again, it would not be long-lived…

His fingers squeezed her hand.

“Let’s go have lunch,” he smiled, pulling her with him toward the veranda.

She followed with a light step and a tight, warm grip.

[aotearoa20]

Penance: Part One. One/Two/Three

The little messenger of the Valar was actually very lucky to have found them all together at the same time.

There were many rooms and long corridors in Mandos. Ambarussa had found Curufin in this one some time ago, on the small outcropping of rock by an underground waterfall. And he would not be moved. He sat with a form that was barely distinguishable and stared out at where the water hit the pool, causing a continuous spray of bioluminescence.

Caranthir had no intention of lingering beside his brother’s bitterness. He wandered, often to the Halls of Vaire. He met his grandmother and her handmaidens. Sometimes he looked for news in the tapestries. Sometimes he could persuade the solemn to give him work. They never let him do more than untangle threads but in a being barely corporeal, it was enough of a challenge to keep him for utter boredom.

Ambarussa wandered too, Amras trailing after his twin as he showed every nook and cranny left in the Halls. But they returned now and again, trying to coax their brothers into their explorations. Celegorm followed them once or twice but usually remained within eyeshot of the little room with the waterfall.

It was pure chance that Caranthir had ended at back there at the same time as the twins and nothing was said of it. They didn’t speak all that much, well, save Amrod who never really stopped. He seemed scared of the empty space.

Mandos is quiet. For weary broken souls, the silence is a balm. A space to reorient and to heal. But Amrod has long come to terms with himself. Amrod is long healed and Caranthir knows the dark quiet has been smothering him. He thinks he may go mad and could almost laugh at the irony.

A light appeared in the doorway and it was strange. There was light down here. Green flamed lamps and plants that glowed hues of violet and blue. But this was different. This was warm and too bright for his imagined eyes. The figure obscured its glare was tangible enough for his footsteps to echo.

"What news, friend?" Amrod smiled.

Caranthir shivered. It’s eerie the ease with which Amrod could speak with Namo’s Maiar. Their presence still filled him witth a sense of dread, though this one didn’t seem to. Celegorm stood as it drew near but made no move towards it. There was somethingwrong about it. It was too bright, too solid -

“I’m looking for Maedhros Fëanorian.”

There was a beat of silence before Amrod grinned, “You are not dead”

There was a excitement in his voice that sounded nearly like a threat. The stranger lowered the lamp and as his face came into view, Caranthir was almost certain he knew him.

“Lúthien,” he heard Celegorm whisper and with that he was certain.

“You’re Elros’ brother” he said as he rose to his feet. The elf opened his mouth to reply but for a moment no words come out. As if he didn’t know where to pursue his first question or ask a new one.

“He came this way before he left.” Caranthir continued making the choice for him, “He also asked for Nelyo.”

“I am Elrond Peredhel.”

Half Elven. Dior’s grandson. He would have been the Prince of Doriath if fate and his family had been kinder.

“But you are not following him?”

He would have assumed so. He knew their own twins dealt ill with being parted. Elros had not stayed long. Caranthir’s remembered thinking of asking him to carry a message to the otherside. Perhaps he should have.

But it would appear this one was not bound for the Doors of Night. Amrod was right, he was still living and evenso he could sense a solidness to his fëa that his brother did not have.

“No.”

“What do you want?,” Curufin's voice cut sharp from his little crevice of stone.

“To speak with Maedhros.” Elrond replied, undeterred by the coldness of it. 

“Why?”

Caranthir took a breath he didn’t need, ready to defend the poor boy from whatever was about to leave his brother’s mouth when they were both silenced.

“Elrond?”

They all turned to the shadowed door.

Maedhros had arrived so close to fading, they feared they would lose him forever. Even now his fëa was barely a wisp of a thing. It was as if the darkness had found a voice.

“So for this one he’ll appear, but we are not so worthy,” Celegorm doesn’t quite growl but Caranthir elbowed him as hard as an incorporeal spirit can elbow another. He might scare Nelyo away for another hundred years.

“Maedhros…” Elrond began, the word hung in the air a moment before he shook his head and looked away, “I have petitioned the Valar for your release.”

“Little pity,” Amras echoed softly.

Elrond turned to the voice and nodded, “but not none at all, I have come to you all with a proposition”

“All of us?” Celegorm said in surprise, he like the rest, assumed any bargaining would be for Nelyo alone. But the half-elf smiled and went to sit on a small shelf of rock. His grip on the lamp shook faintly as he placed it down.

He took a breath and said, “The Valar, Namo especially, have no desire to keep you in here until the world’s breaking. Some of you have been in these Halls longer than Morgoth himself and your crimes though terrible could not be counted as worse than his.”

Caranthir didn’t intend to laugh, but Celegorm chuckled beside him and he found he could not help himself.

“Even so,” Elrond stared at them both unimpressed, “There are many who would argue most of the great woes of the world came to being at Morgoth’s first release and the Valar would have you free to sow discord in Aman. If you were to return there would be conditions.”

Unease shivered through his fëa. Caranthir wasn’t sure he wanted to know of whatever deal Elrond teased out of the Valar. Return would be a curse while the Oath hung over them. Here at least it slept once they realised there could be no escape from the Halls. Better they languish here until Maglor deigned to joined them, and with him any chance of reclaiming the last of their own. And then to Darkness, whatever that entailed. Compared to rhe alternative it would be a relief.

Not that he didn’t appreciate the boy’s efforts. Misguided though they were he had no reason to go through the trouble. It was sweet really.

“You would be put under the responsibility of one of the Valar and under their service – ”

Never mind, he was a petty bastard. Caranthir almost respected him for it. He laughed again, harsh and deliberate. This had to be a joke.

“That’s no reprieve, it is another prison.” Curufin had no face with which to glare. The flickering mist the made him up seemed to pulse and condense in on itself.

“But we could be free of this place.” Amras muttered, wincing more out of habit than anything else as his twin gripped his shoulder.

“To what end?” Curufin hissed, “Are we to be thralls until the end of time?”

“The Valar agreed they would be poor judges of the length of such service. A small council was appointed to judge when it would be safe for you to be left free and unchecked. Olwë, Elwing and Nimloth. Idril also was asked but she said would trust in the wisdom of the three.”

“Then we should be slaves forever! Who would agree to such a bargain?!”

More was said, by most of them, with far less grace. Caranthir himself had no desire to be the lackey of any of the Powers. He was quite comfortable down here, awaiting their doom in his own dread and despair and he was more happy to explain that to the little upstart.

Elrond sat patient enough until their protests died down.

“I have spoken with my father,” he said, quietly softly now, his eyes landed on each of them, “He said if you would agree to these terms, he would return to you the last of the Silmarils for as long as it was necessary to release from your Oath.”

The silence that fell was black and cloying. Maedhros had told them he and Maglor had watched over the peredhel twins for a time. He’d said little more, only to get him off his case, the last time they had been visited by other. Given the extent the Oath had ravaged him by the time he arrived here, they all gathered that it would not have been a pleasant experience for any involved.

He studied the boy’s gentle expression. Did he know the power he held over them all in a single sentence? He must. He must know he could get them to agree to anything for the sake of that offer. It would be a fitting and complete vengeance for this prince of the Sindar to hold the fate of them all at his mercy. Except he couldn’t align such cunning with the person before him.

And for all the humiliation being at the beck and call of the Valar would be, given the truly limitless possibilities, it was a fairly tame punishment. Perhaps it would have to be for the Powers to agree to it.

“What of our father?” Celegorm said suddenly, his voice strangely void of its usual elegance, “and Maglor, we don’t even know where he is.”

“This offer is open to all of you, I can go no further into Mandos like this but Namo said he would speak to Feanor” Elrond sighed, “As for Maglor, he is found. He rests in my house.”

“Is he alright.” Maedhros asked in a tight voice.

“He is not,” Elrond replied and for some strange reason he seemed grieved, “He will not allow himself to be helped but has conceded to follow whichever fate you choose. I... it is not a choice to taken lightly, but please don’t tarry, for his sake.”

“We will do it,” Curufin spoke up. He paid no heed to the stared that stares leveled his way, instead he turned to Maedhros, “We have to don’t we? What use is there debating it?"

Maedhros sighed so deeply him might have dissipated himself into dust. But he nodded and all at once Caranthir’s grip on eternity pitched once again. He had half a mind to resist it. He did not have to agree to this deal that he had not hand in shaping or bargaining. There were too many loop holes that could be explored and exploited both ways. But a familiar heaviness gripped him and turned his tongue to lead. He could not risk Elrond recinding his offer by asking too many questions.

The smile on the half elf’s face was drenched with relief. If he didn’t know better Caranthir would have thought the lantern itself shone brighter at the news. He couldn’t fathom why. His head hurt, so little has happened for so long, for everything he knew to change once more! But to be free... Such hope was as sharp as a knife pericing the depths of his fea. He tore it out and shook his head. Free to do what?

[gifti3]

WOOO more arranged marriage AU stuff 🎊 (last thing i made)

I kinda wanted to do like, oh MC runs into some of Asmos fans and theyre like haters but it felt too simple if that makes sense.... maybe another time. I need someone who has had a stronger history with Asmo so it carries more weight, also someone who has a higher status too probably! (maybe some type of sabotage could happen this way) so today this writing is just MC interacting with some "fans", being a bit of a worrywart and interacting with Asmo at the end 🫡

(btw i use Duke as a gn term here for MC)

-------------------------------------

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Being Asmodeus's spouse was definitely something confounding so far. What you had hope to be a walk in the park, where you both lived your lives separately, had turned out to be more complicated. It came with surprises, and it came with expectations. Those expectations being from every single person in the world who knew he existed.

Really is that them?

Gods, they're so lucky!

To be honest, I was expecting something…more.

For most of your life, you had managed to live near the wall, out of the center. Even as your family was becoming more influential due to several beneficial connections and business successes, most people didn't really know you. So even though dealing with Asmodeus wasn't too bad, becoming a spectacle wasn't something you think you'd be able to get used to so easily.

You feel yourself retreating to your mind as you walk. You just wanted to go outside for a little. Asmodeus's home was so beautiful, and you wanted to see some of the areas near it too, so you came to this nice-looking village. But maybe you should have stayed home if people were going to stare at you like this. You even dressed down so you wouldn't stick out but apparently everyone already knew you.

"Duke MC."

You're forcefully taken from your thoughts as two people suddenly were blocking your way.

"Oh hello."

You had no idea who these people were. Hopefully no one "important". You only started living in Asmodeus's home about a month ago and didn't exactly remember all the people you should know off the top of your head. Though they looked like locals so you were probably safe.

"Such a lovely day today. Are you out enjoying the weather with Duke Asmodeus?" The first person asked. She gives you a polite smile.

You smile back. "Yes, it is however I'm just out alone today. I thought it would be nice to have a change of scenery with something new."

She quirks an eyebrow. "Really, so you're here on your own?"

"That's strange. Showing others around is usually something the Duke would be excited to do too." The man beside her added.

Is it? Some of the staff had actually volunteered to go with you. Though that was nice of them you waved them off. You didn't need to take up their busy schedules with something frivolous. They were quite persistent though now that you think of it.

"Well, the Duke was busy so perhaps next time he'll accompany me. I'll be fine on my own today though. And if I get lost I can just think of it as an adventure…" You trail off taking note of where you could probably ask for help if you did actually get lost.

The two of them look at one another and suddenly you feel like an anomaly. They grin as if they've exchanged a silent joke before looking back at you.

"Sorry we got ahead of ourselves and forgot introductions. I'm Annabelle Lockridge and that's my brother."

"I'm Johnathan Lockridge but you can just call me Johnny."

Oh, they were siblings. That would explain the similar behavior. They didn't look too alike though.

"Do you both know Asmodeus personally?"

"Ohh of course. We spend a lot of time with him when he decides to come down this way!" Annabelle said.

Her brother nodded. "He really knows how to have fun."

So they're his friends? Or maybe those fans you hear about. Wait…does he come to party here? ….That did not seem like normal behavior for a Duke. You'd always imagine him partying with those of similar status. So his night life extended past gentry shenanigans.

"Interesting…."

Johnny continues. "It's so nice that we finally get to see his spouse in person! We were expecting you to be the type to hide away in a fancy home and only mix with your class."

Not a farfetched conclusion. That was the norm for a lot of the upper class, but it looked like Asmodeus had set a different precedent here. You weren't exactly sure how you felt about it, but you didn't have any adverse opinions at least. It did make Asmodeus seem more ordinary in a way. If you ignored almost everything else about him.

You look off to the side a bit and notice that some people are trying to inconspicuously listen in.

"Well I won't hold you two up anymore. I need to be back by a certain time."

You manage to part ways though you could tell the siblings wanted to talk more. Honestly you felt a bit strange talking with them, but maybe it would be a good way to get more information about your husband.

Outside of that, your trip had been mostly quiet and uneventful.

--------------------

As you return, you plan on staying in your room for the rest of the day. You didn't have anything else planned so why not rest.

While walking through the hallway you surprisingly run into Asmodeus.

"Asmodeus? What are you doing here?"

"….I live here?"

Well yes, he did live here. But he usually stayed elsewhere or with one of his brothers. At first you thought it was because of you but were reassured by some of the maids. Asmodeus spent a lot of his time away from this residence. But you were sure that your presence kept him away even more now.

"Right." You shake your head at yourself and continue to your room. You didn't really want to talk to him right now. Those fans(?) were easy to deal with but you still felt tired after that interaction. And the more you thought about it on the way home, the more you dwelled on possible future interactions. The few times you heard about Asmodeus's fans it was because something insane had happened. So wouldn't it only be a matter of time?

"Hmm you look off. Did something happen?"

"Not really?"

"You don't seem sure."

You don't respond.

"Okay I won't pry then…"

"Asmodeus…" before he could walk off you call his name. "You have fans right? I mean I'm assuming they're your fans. Are they usually so friendly?"

"Oh! Did you meet one of my little darlings?"

His what?

"…"

Asmodeus smiles at your confused expression. "Aren't they adorable? They're very sweet, though they do get excitable sometimes. But nothing that can't be handled with a little talk."

"I see…" You didn't see the point of bringing up Annabelle and Johnny.

Nothing bad had happened. In fact, most people would consider it a regular conversation.

"Well I was just curious. I'm going to go rest I'm tired from going out."

"Aw you went out and didn't say anything? We could have gone out together."

"It's fine I wanted to go right then, and you weren't here. Some of the staff volunteered but I wanted to go alone."

"You went alone?"

"Yes?"

"Hmmm" Asmodeus frowns and looks like he's thinking. "I don't want to tell you what to do but maybe you should consider taking someone with you. At least until you get used to being here."

"I guess." You were used to wandering around places on your own so it wasn't too big of deal of you. Though your parents would reprimand you for it sometimes since you would leave without warning. But you never had any issues though and telling the coachman when you would be back seemed like enough. Though there were usually more rules the higher the title…

Your brows raise. Was your husband was actually showing you some consideration right now?

You never really knew what you would get with Asmodeus each day. Some days he'd be unnecessarily passive aggressive with you. A few rare days he'd try to gather your attention for hours at a time, in need of an audience for whatever he wanted to do that day. Most days though, it was like you didn't exist as he would be nowhere in sight.

It was all so confusing, but you couldn't say you hated this particular moment.

"Well, hope you had fun regardless. I'll see you later MC~"

As if sensing your thoughts he cuts the conversation short. He was probably heading back out soon anyways. You sigh. At least you both a had a somewhat friendly interaction.

[lexkent]

I've been accepted into grad school in a neighboring state and in the city I've lived in for the past 10 years, and I'm rotting from the inside out trying to come to a decision

pros for staying: I love my second floor apartment with a balcony and feel comfortable that the landlord isn't some monster. It would be so much easier to stay put. I have a summer and fall job secured here. the classes are regular M-F. there's a part time option if it gets to be too much. I have 1 cousin moving here for grad school (different school same city). there's a better chance of meeting fellow lgbt people here. this is a fun and diverse city with a never ending selection of things to do.

cons for staying: I already spent 4 years at this school so there isn't that thrill of going to a new university it would almost feel like returning to high school. I don’t feel a ton of school pride. it's not particularly safe here (I regularly hear gunshots, etc from my apartment.) I'm tired of the stress of the Mad Max driving situation here. I can't go on night walks without needing to be aware of my surroundings. I don't think I would want to be a Beginner social worker here (though I do want to return someday with more skills and experience). I feel like 10+ years is a long time to live in just one city. my therapist would be low key disappointed if I stayed. staying might feel like settling.

pros for leaving: it's exciting to go to a new school. smaller class sizes should mean a better chance to connect with professors and better chance to get an assistantship to help cover tuition. I could go on walks at night without needing to look over my shoulder. I would prefer to be a Beginner social worker in this city. new city means new places and parks to explore. my therapist seems to think going here and having a fresh start would be most beneficial to me. some cousins and friends are within 1.5 hours of this city. Ceno should be moving there soon!! I've been approved for an apartment with a deck.

cons for leaving: I hate moving more than anything in the world no matter how much I mentally prepare myself it's always 100x worse than I imagined. classes are Friday and Saturday (how am I supposed to drive home and see family/friends with 2 years of weekend classes?) middle of nowhere city. lack of diversity. I don't have a summer job lined up. there is always risk and uncertainty signing with new landlords because they can make your life total hell. it has been near impossible to find an apartment that allows cats I've been looking every day for months. I was just accepted for an apartment i like (though I learned it is ground floor despite the listed pictures which means my cats won't be able to freely enjoy the outdoor deck space like they could with a balcony and there could be a safety issue considering open windows) but with 1st month rent + security deposit + $600 cat fee + $70 cat rent, my bank account is going to wiped out to nothing (I've been crying lol)

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c21. 90, La Paura

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, mentions of death.

song to listen to when reading this: Walk on By, Dionne Warwick.

abstract: Simon. Difficult chapter, I don't really want to speak about it, just read it already. Hunts me to this day.

notes: '90 La Paùra'. in the popular Italian game 'Tombola' (similar to bingo) every number from 1 to 90 is associated with a word or concept. number 90 is 'Fear'.

It was terribly pointless to make her go to the office just to sit in her desk and have Zoom sessions all day. She couldn't do it at home, she still had to come in, and she hated it. She started to dress less professional, no one could see her from the waist down anyways! She noticed many people that worked at the headquarters started to go home for Christmas, the ones that were not deployed anyway. Salvo was going to fly to Italy on the 22nd and be back in San Francisco to the other half of his family for New Years. 'Perchè non vieni da me a Capodanno?' he had asked that she join him for New Years. 'It's a five hour flight honey, and I have Jinx…' she had responded. He didn't even bother asking if she had a friend the dog could stay with, he knew the answer already. 'I'll see you in January, I'll need to come to the base anyways…' She whined at the thought of not seeing a friendly face for another month. She finished her last session with the last patient of the day and stayed a little longer to finish some psych evaluations that were due for the end of the year.

She was quite surprised to see her phone light up and ring. John Price. 'Hello?' She answered almost immediately. Did something happen, did they need her help? It had been 2 days since the mission in the crater. She imagined their work was done and they should come back soon… 'Hi Jude, hope I'm not disturbing you, how are you doing?' His tone was soft and caring. She tried to convince herself everything was fine. 'I'm all good… is everything okay?' she asked trying not to sound too worried. 'Yes, everything's fine.' She leaned back into her chair, exhaling slightly. She brought up her legs to her chest. 'I was calling to ask if everything was alright with the reports you had to give Laswell' he stated, to which she replied she had already called her and sent all the paperwork to her. She stayed up late finishing them couple of nights ago, she was over-excited and wanted to finish the work as soon as possible. 'You know, we're actually in the Persian Gulf right now…' he started speaking and she heard him tapping on the burner phone or maybe putting it on a table… 'You're on speaker Jude, I have MacTavish, Gaz and Simon here…' She said hi timidly, she was wondering the true reason behind the call. He apparently organised a whole meeting before calling her… Simon was glad he could finally hear her voice, and at the same time had a feeling this would only mean he would think of her for the rest of the day. They were in a small town near the Persian Gulf. They spent two days in Al-Jareena cleaning up the mess. That meant, re-establishing a sort of government, helping the people with securing buildings from bombs and grenades. They set up stands with food and clean water, helped entire families reunite and other bury their loved ones. Still, they were worshipping them. They were their heroes, they could finally live again. And it was mortifying, it was messed up and cruel. Peace but at what cost.

They flew to the Persian Gulf. They wanted to check there weren't any problems there. To be fair, they went because of the book. They all agreed it finished there, 'The Pilgrimage', so they went to check, but the cities were in peace, Khorram had never even been there. 'They told me you knew something about the gas field…' said Price. If Simon saw her now he would have smiled. She immediately sat up straight and opened her laptop, nearly knocking her water bottle down. Opened Google without even blinking. 'Yes, the South Pars - North Dome…' she was saying. 'Do you think it had anything to do with their plan? Since it's in the gulf and it's a big source of income for the country…', she jumped in, corrected him, 'The counties, sir. Iran and Qatar have shared ownership.' Price raised his eyes from the phone for a second. 'Right, yes.' She frantically searched online for news that could help her come up for something to say. In the meantime, the captain spoke again.

It's funny she almost doesn't remember what happened. Her brain is still blocking out the memories. She remembers at night, when she's about to fall asleep, but forgets by morning. It's a blur. It happened so fast and yet, it was a slow motion sequence. The door opened and she raised her eyes to look at who was coming in without even knocking. She had thought death was gonna take her in her office last year, she was ready to die in the arms of a man back then. Now, as death stepped in her office one more time, she didn't feel ready at all. Yet, it all made sense. She was expecting him, she knew all along. Her face turned pale, her blood freezing cold in her veins. Her mouth fell open, maybe in an attempt to scream. No sound left her mouth. Her fingers still lingered on the keyboard, they were starting to shake. You deserve this, and you should have known better. You survived once but your time has come.

Arash Tehrani stood in front of her.

The face she had looked at with compassionate eyes, his friendly smile, his calm demeanour were only a dream. His posture was hunched over, military boots heavy with sand. His bloodshot eyes stared into her soul, his beard had grown too long and his face was dirty with mud and warpaint. He locked the door behind him. 'Jude, you hear me?' the captain's voice from her phone was high, with a pinch of annoyance. She was asking Arash the permission to speak. She wasn't even going to deny it, she knew what was coming. She could't just fake being surprised and happy to see him. The man in front of her took two steps in her direction and gave her a small nod. Speak. 'Yes I hear you now…' She responded. She was still looking at him. He came close to her desk, he looked like a lion that was studying his prey, he looked like he was preparing to jump on her and finally kill her. She couldn't look away. My gun is under the coffee table, I can't reach it, do I have a sharp object, I don't. He had every right to be furious, and she deserved the ending she was going to get. He had every right to be there. 'I was saying, do you have any information that we could use about the gas field, or anything related to the book?' The voice from the phone asked again. The book. He tilted his head with an amused impression, like he wasn't expecting her to be a part of all this. But he did, he knew all along. She had deeply wronged his trust. Something he said during a vulnerable state in therapy was being used against him, against his people. There was not greater good, no right or wrong, reality and justice were abstract concepts.

'The book uh…?' His voice was a raspy whisper, there was no way they would hear him over the phone. His accent had gotten thicker, maybe from going back to speaking his mother-tongue in Al-Jareena. She didn't flinch and kept her eyes on him. He finally moved again, circling her desk. She could feel his presence behind her back, shivers travelled down her spine as her shoulders tensed up. Is he going to hit me? 'Tell them you know nothing', he demanded. She said it. She thought she had lost the ability to talk all of a sudden. She kept a serious tone, she did her best, at least, to sound like she wasn't on the verge of a panic attack. She said she didn't really think anything was connected. She was met with disappointed silence on the other hand.

Please please please, realise something is wrong. Something is wrong you just have to listen. Panic was finally settling in. I've seen this film before. She relived it all, it wasn't going to end differently. Am I really going to get raped again? She felt Arash's breath on the back of her neck and had to keep a whimper from escaping her lips. It's happening again. He was waiting for her to end the call. 'Jude is everything alright?' asked a voice. His voice. He knows, he has to know, he understood. Her head fell slightly foreword when she felt the pressure of the muzzle of a gun at the back of her head. She had ran out of time. What even was time? What was she doing there? Just kill me already please I can't survive this again, I won't survive this time if you keep me alive, just kill me. She thought about Jinx. Simon would feed him right? He would take him on walks. Maybe train him to be a K9 dog or something. Simon would remember Jinx, right? She slowly raised her hands from her desk, seeing them shake so much nearly frightened her. She caught a glimpse of how they might have looked from the outside, if someone was to come in her office right now. The scene was majestic. She was completely helpless, the gun was painfully pressed to her head, her hands trembling in the air. That was it. When she thought about having to reply to Simon's question, only one word came to mind. She envisioned him for the last time, his handsome features, his cold expression. She spoke.

'Splendid.'

notes: she spoke

taglist:

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[androgynousblackbox]

Welcome to Hazbin Vale. 1 [Appleradio]

"Hello, hello, my dear listeners! Your dear radio host Alastor is here to give you, once again, the most warming welcome to your favorite station here in our splendid town of Hazbin Vale. It's truly quite a pleasure to being back on the air after that rather unfortunate murder that happened near the studio.

Yes, indeed, truly unfortunate that an unruly teenager didn't pick a better target to pick on late at night when some individuals want to just grab some milk at the gas station and had to live the consequences. But is exactly as they say, my friends; you reap what you saw and that night the scythe of death must have felt a little bit… impatient than usual.

But there's no need to worry about that! I am sure that the thirst for death has been quench for now and there won't be any other danger on the horizon. You see, I am just cursed with an unbearable optimism, dear listener, so I am sure that you will be going home without no worry or concern in your tender, warm, little hearts tonight. Back to your lovely families who all can let a sigh of relief because there is nobody outside watching through the window. Or are there? I would close the windows and keep the lights out, just to be safe.

Back again to our waste of youth, I mean, our dearly departed young delinquent, I think I saw their foot sticking out from behind the counter at the gas station when I pased this morning. The police must have been too busy picking up all the other pieces that they missed it! If any of our valiant police officers could take care of that so the whole body could be put underground that would be lovely. For the family, of course!

I actually tried to get some comment from the police chief Husk to give you all, but someone must have skipped on their greasy filled donuts breakfast this morning because the old man Husk just shush me away, insisting that they were already taking care of everything.

Truly, how rude is that? Has the police never heard about such a thing as freedom of press? Outrageous, I tell you that! But even though I could stay and argue for my civil rights, as I had every right to do, dear listener, I instead walked away to my radio tower while humming to myself our last hit of yesterday, "Murder on the dance floor!" I don't know why I got that particularly melody stuck in my head so much.

Oh, nevermind that. For whoever may care, or be morbidly curious about it, the service for the body will be tomorrow at 9 AM in our local church. Despite the many flaws of her offpring, his mother is a nice lady that knows to stay quiet when it's convenient for her, so please, send her my most sincere condolecencies if you happened to see her. I believe she was planning to move out of town right after putting her son to rest, as she told me herself this morning on my way here. Since of course I had to make sure that she was in a good state of mind and wasn't causing a ruckus trying to say to the police things she shouldn't have.

Poor woman. I can't imagine what it must feel like to have such a loss. The sense of relief to have one less mouth to feed can be overwhelming. She will surely be missed, whatever her name was!

In other less satisfying news, the universe truly has it's own way to balance everything because as soon someone was out, someone else is comming in. That is right, dear listener, while I was having my morning stroll I happened to hear all about our new resident in town that moved to the old abandoned house at the outskirt of everything. From what I could gather by the power of people's gossip, this man is a inventor who primarly makes toys and has made a considerable fortune out of it. How nice.

He plans to revive the toy store that had to shut down two years ago when that whatisherface rude clerk was slaughtered in a particularly hilarious manner there and the cowardly owners ran away. We all remember that incident. They never did find her delicious soft hands, did they?

Another tragedy that we all mourned together, indeed. The closing of the toy store, that is. The youth does really need space to entertain themselves in a safe and controlled environment. Maybe if some teenagers had something like that growing up, they wouldn't have ended up on the ground, ha ha!

Who knows, it could even revitalize a little bit of the spark this town used to have. Now everyone is so afraid and paranoid, talking about all these sudden and inexplicable attacks as if they were worth mulling over rather than an inevitability of life. As if thinking about it is ever going to stop a knife directed to the throat. A waste of time if you ask me.

So a nice change of pace might be exactly what we all need! I heard that this inventor even brought along his own daughter, that should be starting in preschool for the next week if I am not mistaken. I haven't been able to meet the man yet, but it sounds like at the very least could be interesting for three whole minutes if I am lucky. Five if a miracle happens. Oh, along with my optimism, I have also been cursed with too high expectations, it seems.

What I can say? I am a dreamer at heart.

Ah, new blood is always rather exciting, don't you think, listener? Me, I am not particularly fond of children, especially the rude ones, but I am nothing if not flexible to whatever changes may come our way and my curiosity is always killing. That is how the saying goes, isn't it? Ha ha, we have a lot of fun here, don't we?

I think great things are about to happen here, in this lovely quaint town of ours, listener. I can feel it on the air. It's crinkling and static with energy, after so, so long. It's finally waking up. I know you feel it too.

Be sure to give the toy maker a welcome only worthy of Hazbin Vale when you have the chance. Tell him that Alastor will always be reporting the news of this town and to tune in with the rest of us whenever he wants. Remember: I am always here. I will be here to delight your ears for as long you breath and long after you are done breathing. I can never stop or be stopped. That is a promise.

Now, for the weather…"

[dyns33]

Fucking fate - ending 1

Vaas x soulmate Y/N 

I had two ending in mind, so this is Y/N’s ending 

Everything had happened very quickly.

One day Vaas was the king of Rook Island, or at least the part that Hoyt let him control. The next day Carlos was leading Y/N quickly away from camp because Snow White was attacking and it was too dangerous to stay here.

Vaas' order.

Vaas, whose death was announced a few hours later throughout the island.

This news came as a shock to Y/N. She had imagined that people felt something when their soulmate died. A vibe. The breaking heart. Anything. But no, a pirate had given the news, which had echoed in the cave where the small group was hiding, and panic had gripped everyone.

Always calm and loyal, Carlos stayed close to her, awkwardly patting her on the back. Then, when the others had been too busy wondering what they were going to do, not paying attention to them, he had led her to the square, asking Benny to follow him.

Of all the pirates, Carlos and Benny respected their boss the most. Even dead, they weren't going to stop.

They went to a small port that the Rakyats had not taken yet, where a boat was waiting for them.

     "Well, you go in with her and take her to the embassy of her nearest country. Then, you do what you want." Carlos announced with a straight face.

     "But... And you ?!"

     "Relax, princessa. I'm staying here, trying to kill Snow White and regain control of the camps. You're leaving. You're going to live your life somewhere else, safe. That's what the boss would have wanted. Benny, you don't leave her until you're sure she's safe."

     "Of course not. I remember the time she met a tiger. The boss broke my nose and three ribs. I'll follow her like her shadow."

     "Good. Go, now !"

This was the last time Y/N saw Carlos, and Rook Island.

As promised, Benny stayed with her until she found herself in front of an office surrounded by soldiers, bureaucrats and doctors, who asked her many questions, checked on her and called her relatives to tell them that she was alive.

That was the last time she saw Benny. Before letting her into the embassy, he had wished her good luck, telling her that he was going back to Rook. He couldn't leave his hermanos like a coward.

Her family and friends were all very happy to find her. They took her in their arms, kissed her and repeated to her that they had missed her very much, crying.

Y/N cried too, realizing that she hadn't thought of them at all during the time she had spent on Rook, focused on Vaas, her soulmate, who was dead. She hadn't had time to mourn him before, in shock.

She didn't tell anyone about him. For ten years, everyone around her thought that she had been captured by pirates who had treated her well, that she had managed to escape, and that she could now resume a normal life, with the hope of meet her soulmate one day.

It was torture.

Every night she dreamed of the times they had spent together. Of the last time she had seen him.

     "Fucking Jason is coming, nena. He's crazy, worse than me. I don't want... As soon as the alarm goes off, you go with Carlos, okay ? You go with Carlos and you stay with him until let me come to get you."

     "Why don't you come with me ?" she asked, as if at that moment she knew very well that he wouldn't come back.

     "I have to face him. It's crazy, I must be as crazy as him, I've killed him four times and he's still here. We won't be safe until he's completely dead. I have no choice, mi corazon. But don't be afraid, I won't let anyone hurt you."

He had kissed her forehead and he had hurt her forever by losing his stupid fight. He could have just come with her, they would have left this cursed island and they would have been happy.

Unable to lead a normal life after what she had been through, Y/N traveled extensively. She didn't go back to Rook, there was nothing for her there, and besides she avoided most of the islands, but she couldn't stay in one place for too long.

That was how she found herself near the border of Yara.

It was out of the question to go to Yara of course, too dangerous. It was totally a coincidence that Y/N happened to be in this bar near the beach.

 A coincidence, if it was a place frequented by the smugglers. A coincidence, if that day, two of them were right next to her at the counter, speaking Spanish.

Coincidence, or fate.

The voice of one of the men sounded familiar. Turning her head, she saw his back, but she could see his Mohawk, his scars, and the tennis ball with a face sticking out of his pocket.

His colleague noticed her watching them, waving at the man, who turned his green eyes in her direction. They stared at each other for an eternity.

He had aged. Normal, after ten years. He looked tired, even more tired than when she had met him. Maybe darker too, less crazy, even if the tennis ball showed he wasn't in his right mind.

     "... Vaas ?" she managed to say, not trusting her voice, nor her eyes.

As on the island, everything happened very quickly. One moment her soulmate was dead, the other Vaas lifted her off the ground, spinning her around the bar, not listening to her cries of panic, before kissing her again and again.

     "Nena ! Y/N, mi Y/N ! You're alive ? Are you really here ?! Pedro, she's really here ?!"

     "I don't know who's this girl, but yes, she's here." sighed his colleague. "We shouldn't attract attention, remember ?"

     "Shit, shut the fuck up, that's my mate and I thought she was dead. Fucking Carlos, he wasn't in the cave anymore when I managed to drag myself in. No trace of you left ! Then I found his body. That asshole got killed by the Rakyats. I was sure... Oh, mi amor ! You're alive ! The world was so bland without you ! I feel like to be reborn !"

     "You really can't do this anywhere else ?" the other smuggler begged, as everyone in the bar looked at them.

They walked to the beach, Vaas refusing to let go of her hand, as if she would disappear if he didn't touch her. He had often had visions of her, he wasn't sure it wasn't a dream.

     "Carlos and Benny sent me away from the island when they found out... Everyone thought you were dead." Y/N whispered, letting him rub his head against her neck like a big cat.

     "I thought I was dead too, but Brody's not good with a knife. I almost died, but it wasn't the first time I got stabbed. Did they really make you leave ? Shit, I should have buried Carlos instead of spitting on him. I was pissed. He could have left a note to tell me !"

     "You were dead."

     "Still !" Vaas said indignantly, finally calming down a bit, resting his head on her shoulder. "It was hard, nena. I lost everything that day. My island, my men, and you. I wanted to kill Jason, but my sister was faster. It was over. I thought about jumping off a cliff, but it wasn't a nice ending. I thought you wouldn't be happy. So I left. I wanted to visit your hometown, but I couldn't. Hurt too much. Shit, hermosa, you're here ! You're really here ! Hey... No, don't cry, querida, don't cry."

Y/N didn't listen to him, hugging him while sobbing. It was hard to know if it was joy, stress, or a bit of both.

Like when they were on the island, the first few nights when she cried a lot, Vaas massaged her back, kissing her neck and repeating reassuring words, singing a lullaby in Spanish, until she calmed down. 

     "Are you... Are you staying with me this time ?" she asked shyly.

     "Of course. You're coming to Yara ? I have a small house near a lake. I built it myself. It's quiet, not far from the village and the sea. Little Vaas and I go there often."

     "Little Vaas ?"

     "Yes, I'll introduce him to you. I've told him a lot about you, he'll be happy to meet you. And I'm Vaas the nice smuggler, I help people. Well, I still sell drugs and drugs. weapons, and I transport humans, but because they ask me to, I don't sell them ! No more piracy, I'm clean. Almost."

     "... And if I don't want to go to Yara ?"

They had this discussion about Rook Island. Vaas refused to leave, he loved his kingdom too much. Now they were very far away, they had changed. He looked at her intensely, before nodding, cupping her face in his hands with a very serious expression.

      “We'll go where you want, mi reina."

     "Well... I want to see your house. And meet little Vaas."

     "Nena, if this is a dream, please don't let me wake up."

He then pressed his forehead against hers, before kissing her and pressing his head against his chest again, to listen to her heart, with the sound of the waves in the background, and Y/N also hoped that she was not not dreaming.

She imagined them in Vaas' cabin, which was probably not very well built, with little Vaas, who must have been a dog or a tiger. Heaven.

     "Well, that's cute, but we're going to be late !" shouted the other smuggler who was standing near the bar, to give them some privacy.

     "Pedro is boring." said a small voice. "He's not as cool as Carlos."

     "That's right, little Vaas." replied Vaas, resuming his normal voice. "Too bad he died, he was nice and he protected my nena. It's not fair."

     "... The tennis ball in your pocket is little Vaas, right ? You don't have a tiger." "You want a tiger, nena ?"

     "No. I want to go home." she whispered, even though she had already been there since he had jumped on her in front of everyone.

[timextoxhajima]

Sonder: Part III

Parts: I II III IV V

member: enhypen heeseung! x oc! woo ki yeom [3rd person pov]

genre: coming of age, slice of life, angst, romance

w/c: 5.8k

warnings: topics on religion, distressed relationships, mental health (I want to leave an a/n here that I grew up with my maternal family being Buddhists so what I've written is based off what I researched online and the way her family practised Buddhism. I'm personally a free-tinker and this narrative is not in any way meant to offend nor support any particular religion.)

synopsis: after being kicked out of her home, Woo Ki Yeom is forced to live life on her own. struggling to find herself in the midst of her chaotic life, she meets lee heeseung, who, like her, can't give any more fucks to life than she does.

"n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own."

By the time Sim Ji Yeon had realised what was happening, she knew deep down in her heart that it was too late. She was stuck with the dilemma of whether she should aggressively offer Ki Yeom support, or let her writhe in her own pain for a while, especially since she knew that Ki Yeom might take it the wrong way if she went with the first option.

Ki Yeom's pride and ego was fed to her since they were children. She had grown up in a stable home, both parents worked and so, they were better than the average household. She didn't have a difficult childhood that would've otherwise created a timid and inferior person.

Her confidence was further fed by the years in which she excelled in every single arts class she took. She had the perfect knack for it, always creating original pieces and never having trouble finding inspiration for her assignments.

Ji Yeon had always admired her eye for the arts, while she was stuck as the boring, better-looking-than-average girl who loved volleyball. She was well aware of the attention that dragged around with her wherever she went - boys would come to her matches just to see her and her teammates. She would get random love notes and gifts from people she didn't even know.

While Ki Yeom somewhat teased her and envied her for this 'small celebrity' life, Ji Yeon would've much preferred being talented in her own, safe bubble.

The hard part during the entire process of the falling out was the fact that Ji Yeon hadn't heard about Ki Yeom being kicked out of her home from her, but instead through friends who somehow knew people who had seen her looking for single-room apartments to rent.

Talk about a small world.

And talk about not sharing your worst nightmares with your best friend.

Ji Yeon remembers the day she felt Ki Yeom had given up on her friendship, and till this day, she doesn't know exactly why. Ji Yeon had decided to wait near the building that Ki Yeom used to stay with her parents. She's been over multiple times, so it wasn't hard to blend in with all the convenience and food stalls owners greeting her.

She figured that Ki Yeom probably still had to come back to pick up more things.

But hours turned into days and by the time she had waited three days, Ji Yeon realised that Ki Yeom had completely moved out for good. Then, she spots her mother leaving the apartment building.

She's hesitant at first, but it's the only way she will ever find out anything about Ki Yeom without needing to spam call her.

With tired eyes and a broken heart, her mother tells Ji Yeon that she hadn't seen her daughter since the day she ruined the altar.

"Ruined the altar?" Ji Yeon's lips part in startled surprise. "But..."

Her voice trails quiet when she realises she doesn't know what to say. She can't imagine what Ki Yeom is feeling, much less her parents.

"I don't suppose... you know where she is?"

The elder shakes her head gently. "You're the only person who has a shot at knowing where she's gone. So if you don't know, then I definitely wouldn't."

There's something harsh and direct in her voice, that almost makes Ji Yeon uneasy.

"Alright," She chooses not to pry. "I understand. I'm... so sorry this happened."

A chilly gush of wind runs between them.

Her mother parts her lips and inhales slightly, as if already finding the words to say - but she decides against it and swallows instead. "I have to go run my errands."

"Of course," Ji Yeon slightly bows and lets her on her way. She stays, long enough until Ki Yeom's mother disappears down the corner.

Ji Yeon wonders if she will ever visit their home again.

She will spend the next few weeks leaving Ki Yeom texts. Calls. Even resorting to E-mails and leaving her DMs on Instagram. She starts to think of herself that she's pathetic, but no, she can't think this way. Her best friend was just kicked out. She's probably lost and afraid. And honestly, she might not even be alive. What if something happened to her and nobody found her body?

But somehow, she finds comfort in knowing that she hasn't heard from her in months now. At least she's alive, and her body hasn't been thrown in a ditch somewhere and in the news, with the headline 'MURDERER ON THE LOOSE'.

And yet, everytime she tries to comfort herself to think this way, she can't help but think - why is she not speaking to me?

What have I done wrong?

Months turned into trimesters and trimesters turned into a scholarship offer to a university in another state. Ji Yeon decides that fate will bring her back to Ki Yeom when the time is right.

She leaves, and decides that she will only come back during her longer summer breaks.

And in the blink of an eye, she graduates next year.

But to Ji Yeon, this meant that it had been four years without Ki Yeom. How could Ki Yeom pretend that she didn't exist anymore? How could she move on with life, not accounting for what happened to her? Doesn't Ki Yeom know that she cares, especially with all the shit she's sent her?

Ji Yeon is not one to get angry easily, but Ki Yeom is the exception. Perhaps she hasn't tried hard enough.

She googles her name. She scrolls through the 'Ki Yeom's whom she know aren't her Ki Yeom.

Then, she stops when she notices the name under a tattoo parlour's search result. Ji Yeon hunts for the address on their website, and finds it.

Just about thirty minutes away from where Ki Yeom used to stay.

"Ki Yeom might look a little cold, but she promises her best. Top of sales 2022." Was written as her description. No photo though.

Ji Yeon picks up her phone and drops her some messages.

"She hasn't spoken to you in four years and you still want to go look for her?"

Ji Yeon is quiet. She knows how ridiculous it sounds from someone else's perspective. Ki Yeom clearly doesn't want to be found and reconnected, so why should she go out of her way to do it for her?

"Think about how we left off, don't you think it'd be terrible of me to not even... get some kind of closure?"

Sunghoon frowns at her, crossing his arms over his chest and slightly rolling his eyes. He's never liked this 'Ki Yeom' whom he's never met. By the time he had met Ji Yeon in university, he thought the falling out was through and finished. He knew that Ji Yeon had always wanted to find her and find closure, but he thinks otherwise.

"It would've been terrible if you didn't try to reach out but the thing is you did and you tried. I don't know why you think you haven't done enough."

"Well, maybe you think I've done enough, but it's not enough for her."

"Come on," He pushes his hair back and sits in a chair, back slouched and his elbows on his knees. "Love, I just- From my perspective, she sounds like she doesn't care about anybody else. If she had wanted to reconnect or find closure like you do, she would've responded by now. But it's been four years. We met, dated, fell in love and moved in together in these four years."

Ji Yeon sighs.

"Have you ever thought that she just... outgrew the friendship? Like, I don't know, maybe her getting kicked out of her home just escalated it. Like it was an event that forced the two of you apart and it was just... meant to be? It hurts to see you trying so hard and she doesn't reciprocate. I get that she's your childhood friend but that doesn't mean she would do and think the same way you do."

"I know what you mean," She's quiet as she turns and looks at him. "But I just... Maybe if I see her one last time. Just over a cup of coffee or something. She doesn't have to catch me up nor does she have to give in to my 'needs'. Maybe I just want to see that she's well and taking care of herself."

Sunghoon stands and walks over to where she's sitting at her desk, standing near enough so she can rest her head in his stomach.

The next day proved a challenge for Ji Yeon, a challenge she didn't even think she had to deal with. She had found the tattoo parlour as early as after lunch with Sunghoon, who reluctantly left her alone. Ji Yeon felt nothing less like a creep, spending the entire afternoon sitting at the coffee shop just a few doors down from the parlour.

The challenge was mustering up the courage to speak to Ki Yeom after four years. Why was she even finding this hard? They were best friends, weren't they? And as far as Ji Yeon knew, she didn't do anything wrong on her end. If anything, this was just a case of a fading friendship, not a messy falling out.

She thought, and thought, and panicked, and thought again, until the sun had set. There were more clients leaving than entering, she thought that this was her chance.

Now or never.

Her throat had gone dry when she stood at the door, fingers wrapped on the metal handle and ready to push herself in. Ki Yeom had shoulder-length brown hair, but with her black roots growing out on the crown of her head. She was sat in a roller chair, backfacing the front door, turned and talking to a guy with bright, bleached pink hair who was definitely a couple years older than her. And another girl, around the same age or even younger, with her hair cut so short, some might mistake her for the opposite gender.

Then again, Ji Yeon knows better than to bother about that.

"Hi. I'm looking for Ki Yeom, I saw somewhere that she worked here."

WHAT? She thinks to herself. She's literally standing infront of you, why would you ask that?

Ki Yeom takes a moment to stand and turn, like she already recognised her voice before she even saw Ji Yeon.

Oh, my God. It's like meeting an ex again.

Ji Yeon's heart drops when she can see how much Ki Yeom has grown in four years. She aches to know that she wasn't by her side, following her through the healing she probably needed.

"Who told you I worked here?" The words are cold, and sharp. Like her mother's. Ji Yeon starts to sweat, the warm gush of uneasiness sweeping through her when you feel unwell or about to faint.

Ji Yeon's mind is running at a thousand miles per hour. Say something!

"I... I googled you," Ji Yeon gulps. She can see the knowing scowls and squints from Ki Yeom's two acquaintances. They must think she's a bitch. "Took me a couple of minutes, but it wasn't that hard to find your name as a tattoo artist in this parlour."

Ki Yeom rubs the back of her neck, looking exasperated and at a loss of patience, like she were thinking 'I don't have the fucking time for this.'

She turns around and begins a mini discussion with her acquaintances, which Ji Yeon realises, if she's close enough to trust them in times like this, then Ki Yeom must consider them friends.

She has been replaced.

Ji Yeon isn't surprised. It was a sooner-or-later thing.

But why did it hurt the same?

She can hear the 's'-es and the whispering they're doing whilst turned back. She wonders if they know who she was, or if Ki Yeom has kept her an embarrassing secret and memory she doesn't want to relive.

There's a little scuffle. Someone swats someone on the arm, and someone knees the boy in his groin. Then the short haired girl drags him away, leaving Ki Yeom alone with her.

When Ki Yeom turns around, there's this fierceness and sternness in her eyes. Ji Yeon knew that she wouldn't be meeting the same person she became best friends with back then, but it hit her harder now that she's seeing this new-and-improved version of Ki Yeom.

Ji Yeon can see that she doesn't have much to say, so she starts first.

"I know you've been reading my texts," She says quickly, hoping to get some reaction out of her.

Nothing.

"I just wanted to know how you were doing. I don't know anything about you anymore and I just can't stand to know that... I no longer know anything about you and your life."

"I don't know why it matters that you don't know anything. My parents don't know anything. Nobody knows anything, but I'm fine and well."

Ji Yeon is stunned at how quickly she responded. It's almost like she had rehearsed for a moment like this. Has Ki Yeom just been waiting for Ji Yeon to show up, so she can tell her to fuck off?

"It matters because I care," She wishes that Ki Yeom can hear the sincerity in her voice. "It matters because you basically disappeared, and for the last couple of years, I've been stuck wondering what I've done wrong. And if it was my fault that the friendship has turned sour."

"It's not your fault, it's mine. For being an ass."

Ji Yeon didn't even realise she was holding her breath until Ki Yeom finishes her quick-witted reply. The words start to come out naturally.

"So at least tell me how you were being an ass. You have so much spine to be out here making a life for your own but you don't have a spine enough to tell me why I had to google you?"

"'Spine to be out here'?" Ki Yeom snaps her head and squints at her, clenching her jaw as she strings the words together. "Have you... forgotten why I was even made to be out here making a life for myself?"

Oh.

Ji Yeon didn't mean for it to come off that way. Ki Yeom must know she didn't mean it like that. Right? ...Right?

"I'm sorry. That wasn't what I meant."

In Ji Yeon's peripheral vision, a client pays at the cashier's. He awkwardly walks around them, arm wrapped in a protective foil as the light reflects off the surface.

She thinks carefully about what to say next. It feels like years before she can think of how to put it across.

"Look, I... I just want to know what happened. And... if after all the clearing up, you still hate me and our paths have just... diverged too far and too long ago, then... I will just have to make peace with it."

Ji Yeon pauses. She thinks about what Sunghoon said to her earlier today.

"But I can't just leave this... it's like abandoning my house without reason."

Her eyes are teary and she can feel the sour ball creeping up in her throat and her nose.

But Ki Yeom doesn't look like she gives a single fuck.

Ki Yeom's head falls in the gap between her arm and herself, nodding herself awake. She looks down at her sketchbook, instinctively rubbing her forehead to get any pencil markings off her skin.

She turns and looks at the clock. 2.23am.

Sighing and yawning at the same time, she looks around her apartment, spotting the unwashed pot from her instant-noodle supper sitting by the sink.

She recalls the encounter at the tattoo parlour earlier that evening, where Miss Little Perfect showed up and demanded for a redeeming coffee break tomorrow.

Ki Yeom rubs her eyes and yawns again, finally getting up from her desk and making her way over to wash the dishes.

Suddenly, life had so many offerings to provide her.

Picking up her phone, she slips on her slides and heads out the door, making a point to close it quietly. Then she turns and heads for the lift, in her peripheral vision, noticing that the nosy boy's door was slightly ajar.

She ignores it, turning for the lift and dragging her headphones over her head-

Then she hears the piano keys, and the singing.

Ki Yeom will admit that she didn't think that would stop her in her tracks, but it did.

She stays in the same spot for a few seconds, listening to the random piano keys, then him singing or humming a tune, then the piano keys again.

He's writing an original, she realises.

Well, if he can be nosy, so can I.

She finds herself at the door, peeking in through the gap.

He's sat, angled backwards against the door, with a portable keyboard infront of him and a notebook in his lap. She looks around, and spots his desk - which was a round dining table that he probably picked up from someone's garage sale - strewn with lecture notes.

Ki Yeom leans against the door frame, quietly studying the apartment that resembled hers while listening to the music-in-progress. Her eyes are mindless, until they finally return to him sitting at his piano.

Except, now he's staring at her, wide-eyed and surprised.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to tell that you gave up on studying," She pushes the door open and nods toward his dining table. "Sitting against an open door isn't very smart. I could've gone in and stolen something and you wouldn't have known."

"Well," He shrugs, picking up the notebook from his lap and tossing it on his dining table. He starts to gather the papers and binded notes. "Thank God it's you, then. I'd just have to worry about missing a washing machine token."

Ki Yeom rolls her eyes, but doesn't hide the little smile that curls up on her lips.

"Couldn't sleep?" He lifts the stack off the table, aligning them against the surface and placing them nicely in the centre.

She scratches the spot under her ear. "It's... a little more than 'couldn't sleep', I guess."

Heeseung turns to face her, arms reaching back to lean on the edge of the dining table. But it wobbles from how old it is, so he clears his throat and stands away from it instead.

"I'd invite you to come in and talk about it but I don't want to seem creepy," A pause. "Nor does it seem like I have adequate, functioning furniture to host a guest."

Ki Yeom chuckles, which is a surprise. Maybe it's just the 3am lack of discipline and awareness.

"I was going to go on a walk."

"At..." He picks up his phone. The screen lights up his face. "3am?"

"Why, scared of the dark?"

"No, I'm scared that I'd be murdered in an alley and thrown in a ditch."

"Yeah, because you live in a dangerous country," Ki Yeom pushes herself off the door frame, hoping that the sarcasm can be detected. "No obligations. If you prefer to sleep, then good night."

Heeseung shrugs, picking up his keys and phone and shoving them into his pockets.

"Can't say no to a 3am storytelling session though," With a cheeky smile on his lips, he walks to the door. Ki Yeom moves to let him close the door, only now realising how tall he was.

Maybe Jun Yeol was just short.

"Who said anything about a 3am storytelling session?" She says as-a-matter-of-factly. As he locks the door, she heads to press the lift button.

"Well, I'm just a nosy stranger. And you walked right up to my door, striking up a conversation with me. Besides, who am I gonna tell about your dramatic life story?"

The boy pulls his key out of the door and turns around, tilting his head at her. His eyes are tired, the kinds that sleep but not quality. The kinds that try their best, but it's never enough.

Perfectionist eyes.

Ki Yeom knows because those were hers too.

"So why are you up at 3am?" She quietly asks.

"Hm," He hums in thought, eyes looking up at the panel displaying the floors the lift was climbing. "Somewhere between existential crisis and can't sleep. If that makes any sense."

"'Existential crisis', huh?"

There's a silence that envelops the both of them as the lift reaches. She doesn't even know his name but she can tell what type of person he is - or at least, she can guess. She conjures the thought, 'What if he's a serial killer luring her in so he can murder her in the middle of the night?'

Nah, Mr Hsien has seen his face. If he were a serial killer, he wasn't a very smart one.

"I'm Heeseung, by the way," He turns to her in the lift, awkwardly raising a palm to her. "I just realised I know your name but you don't know mine."

Ki Yeom gingerly takes his hand, giving him a firm shake as she does some of her clients. "Nice to know."

"So, what do you do? I mean, you don't seem like you go to university."

"I'm a tattoo artist."

"Oh, shit. No kidding?" Heeseung looks pleasantly taken aback. "Would love to get one one day. Where? Is the parlour nearby?"

"Just about a twenty minute bus ride into town," The doors open into the lobby, the security guard at the counter exchanging glances with them.

"Town? You're a fancy tattoo artist. What, do you like top sales or something?" He giggles as they walk out the building. The cool, crisp breeze kisses her skin and she instantly hugs herself. Ki Yeom remains quiet to his question, merely shrugging her shoulders.

"No," He turns to her and folds his arms across his chest, hugging his arm pits. "That's crazy! Are you really? You're like some super talented tattoo artist, and I'm just some... stupid student that can't beat the curve in school."

"What do you study in university?"

"Performing Arts - But the thing they don't tell you is that half the things you study is theory, which don't work that well with me."

"I heard you just now, with the piano and the singing. You sound good, is it an original? For a project or something?"

They stop at a traffic light. Opposite the building was a park. The crickets were chirping, the street lamps were sizzling and there wasn't a single soul in sight. Some cars driving down the main road, but it had been awhile since Ki Yeom had found the motivation to leave home for something that wasn't work.

"Uh- Yeah? I guess? It's more of just a 'me' thing. But, I also tutor kids. Piano lessons. So they help me sort of... sort it out in my head. Makes it abit easier to teach when I'm figuring out the notes and bars myself."

"Interesting," Ki Yeom nods. The traffic light turns to the green man. She smiles when she realises they didn't even need to wait for that, since it was so empty.

"Why?" Heeseung shoves his hands into his pockets, smile mimicking hers. "Realised we didn't have to wait?"

"Yeah. It's so empty."

"We're law-abiding citizens, what do I say?"

They enter the park, the scent of grass and trees filling their noses. Ki Yeom can see the birds scattered about in the grass, slowly walking or standing almost completely still. The leaves were gently rustling in the breeze. Empty cups, food wrappers, tissues, strewn here and there and on benches.

"By the way, I was joking about the storytelling. You don't have to share if you're uncomfortable. It's just... nice to talk to someone that's not from school."

Ki Yeom walks quietly, sitting in her thoughts. He must've understood her silence, for he goes quiet as well, matching her pace and looking around like he hadn't already been to this park a couple of times.

She considers the day's events. First, being told she had an opportunity to leave everything she had here, to go be part of an art organisation. Then, being told she had topped this months' sale (again), followed by Ji Yeon showing up at the parlour. It had been four years since she had seen her.

Suddenly, she's tired. Her lids are heavy and her heart is torn into shreds. Maybe it wasn't that great of an idea to go for a walk with a stranger at 3am.

"It was a long day. Alot of things happened," Ki Yeom starts, unsure how to continue. She didn't want to seem like she was trauma dumping or asking him for advice when he barely knew her.

"Oh," There's a hint of sadness in his voice as he can hear the reluctance to share. "I understand. It's alright. You don't have to divulge anything. We can walk the whole park in silence. Or if you want to go back, that's totally fine with me too-"

"No, it's okay," Ki Yeom shakes her head and rubs her palm down her eyes and the rest of her face. "I just..."

She strings the thoughts together, holding her breath as she does.

"I was offered... a thing. My boss told me that she had an opportunity to send someone overseas. To be part of a touring art organisation."

She looks up at Heeseung, watching his face for any reaction. As opposed to before, he suddenly had this slightly heavy look on his face, as if he instantly knew what it meant to have such a grand offer... in such a faraway place.

"That... That is something," He nods as he acknowledges it. "I assume there's a 'but'?"

Ki Yeom rubs the back of her neck and turns away from him.

"I mean, it's not easy for anybody to leave anywhere, honestly. Even if they had nothing else left, it still wouldn't be easy."

"You sound like you know this experience yourself."

Heeseung turns and looks at her intently, his tired eyes getting even more tired.

"I'm the total opposite, actually. I had... everything. Like I had a nice home, my family is intact unlike alot of my friends. Supportive environment. But... when I left to find... a purpose, I felt lost. It was my decision, yes, but... it's hard to leave somewhere you're comfortable in."

"You left home to find 'purpose'?" Ki Yeom stifles a little chuckle.

"Well, yeah," Heeseung grins, knowing how stupid it sounded out loud. "I wanted to find out what life was about, you know? I didn't want to stay sheltered. I wanted to meet crazy people and do crazy things and see where the wind blows me."

"That doesn't sound like the life a university student should be living. Just being a student on it's own already takes away the freedom to do that."

"I know, I know," He rolls his eyes half-exasperatedly. "I realised."

They both go quiet again. Ki Yeom is pleasantly surprised at how easy he seems. She wonders if she's being nice and vulnerable because it's 3am.

Yeah, probably.

"So what's keeping you here?"

Ki Yeom smiles, but it's weak and sad and depressing. "What isn't?" She turns and looks at him, then turns back to look straight.

"I grew up a devoted Buddhist and my family practised it to the T. Then, about six years ago, my father lost his job and we were broke for a few years. In those two years, we scrimped and saved. My grandfather had tried to help, but my parents... believe it or not, didn't accept it. Out of filial piety. It's one of the most valued principles in Buddhism. I came home one day, tired and exhausted from work, and my room was literally sold out. The furniture, the lamp, the damn bed."

She pauses. The memories come back in quick flashes in her head.

"I ruined the altar. Shoved everything off. My mother kicked me out. And I had so few things left that it took me an hour to get everything I needed out of the apartment. I walked aimlessly for hours, just wishing that a car would run me down and I'd never have to open my eyes again. I somehow fell asleep just a few shops down the tattoo parlour, and I don't know what it is that the owner of the parlour saw in me, but she waited until I woke up, gave me a pad and pencil and told me to draw. I don't know how she knew that I loved art. But I was at a loss and honestly, I had nothing better to do. So, I drew."

A pause.

The grains of rock and sand crunch under their feet as they stroll under a lamp.

"And she hired you."

"And told me that this apartment building had rooms for rent and that she'd pay for the first few months until I could sustain myself."

"What a lad," Heeseung nods. "What did you draw? That made her hire you?"

Ki Yeom stops in her tracks. Heeseung hears the crunching stop behind him, so he stops too and turns to look at her.

"I... I drew my room. Down to every single detail. Before it was sold and ruined."

Now, her voice is quiet, low, and raspy. The type that comes from someone who is about to cry. Heeseung can see that Ki Yeom is fighting all the urges in her throat and nose not to stifle a sob, because her eyes were already welling with tears.

But she blinks, and breathes through her mouth so he wouldn't have to hear the sniffling. Then all that resolution to keep it under wraps crumbles under the weight of letting it out for the first time, directly telling someone the whole truth without them having to probe and ask for them to fit the pieces together.

Ki Yeom squats and buries her eyes in the heart of her palms, her lips finally contorting into a quivering, shivering slobber as her tears and mucus start to run down her philtrum. She's feeling light-headed, but her chest heavy, from all the feelings that were bottled up and never once poured out.

A warm, gentle hand lands on her shoulder, a shadow casting over her as he stands in a spot to block the lamp from shining all over her.

Ki Yeom doesn't have a clue how long she was in that position, because it felt like forever. The tears were relentless - caught up for four years, and she hasn't even told him everything that happened that day. Would she cry even more?

One way to find out.

She lifts her head, hair messily stuck to her face because of the tears, and coughs, "You know... My best friend..." She chokes and hiccups in between the words as he looks down at her, tired eyes trying to show sympathy.

"She's just so fucking perfect, and I... I hate her for it.... She lived a perfect life, you know? Popular, smart, pretty... happy. Her family was so fucking... textbook. Sometimes I wondered if she was friends with me to... make herself feel better. I hated how much she tried to compensate for... something that wasn't even her fault. I hated that she started paying for me... or started defending me and protecting me in front of others just so they didn't think I was a loser."

She sighs and wipes her philtrum with her fingers, the glistening music on her nails and fingerpads as she wipes them off on her pants.

"I saw her for the first time today... In four years... asking me for a cup of coffee so we could talk about what happened... But I have nothing to say. What do I even say?"

"You can say what you just told me."

Ki Yeom looks up at him, wandering eyes unsure of what he means.

Then he squats, meeting her at eye level and awkwardly trying to pick her hair out of her face without it seeming like he was flirting with her.

"I think it's valid that you felt the way you did. I mean, all that that you went through? Not everybody knows how it feels. I'm sure she meant well, but I'm also positive that you would've felt the same way about anybody who tried to do those things. So, it was nothing personal."

He folds his arms over each other and wraps them on his knees.

"If it makes you feel better, I'd be annoyed too. If I had a perfect specimen of a person trying to make me feel better. Who wouldn't? It's like salt rubbing salt in a wound."

Ki Yeom gulps the phlegm and musuc away, rubbing her eyes.

"I think... you should go get that cup of coffee and push through it. It's the only way to resolve this."

"But I spent four years running, and I didn't hate it," She wipes the tears dripping off her jawline and stares at the rocks under his slides.

"Clearly, the more you run, the more she's gonna run after you and I'm sure you don't want to deal with her ten years from now again?"

Ki Yeom looks up and into his eyes now, his fringe slightly covering them.

"Here's the important question: Do you think you've been living life fine without her?"

Her eyes drift off to look at the bush on the grass.

"If the answer is 'no', then it's your chance to redeem yourself and mend things with her. But if the answer is 'yes', then sometimes a chapter just... ends. Without you knowing. Things happen. Just because it happened doesn't mean it's your fault."

She looks back at him, swollen eyes slightly drier, but eyelids heavier.

Heeseung is quiet now. He's said his piece, and has nothing else left to share.

"Come on," He whispers, just loud enough for her to hear as he gently grabs her arm. "Let's get you back home and to bed."

Ki Yeom weakly stands, knees trembling from squatting too long. He has a palm on her arm the entire walk home, in silence. The security guard almost looks concerned - he hasn't ever seen this resident cry.

The lift doors open with a ding, but before Heeseung can walk her rightways to her door, she pauses and looks at him.

"Do you think... do you think you can stay with me tonight?" She blinks her tired eyes, not even looking at him. "Not in the same bed, just... with me."

Heeseung blinks, slightly taken aback with the request. His lips are parted in a bid to protest and say that it would be inappropriate, considering that she was just tired and in a vulnerable state and it could've been easily misunderstood the following morning- but she puts a stop to it, for she quite literally mutters the words:

"I've been alone for so long, sometimes I wonder if I would be happier if I wasn't awake."

PART IV

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New Releases

We've got four new YA books on our radar this week! Check out what's on deck for launch this Tuesday:

The Lotus Flower Champion by Pintip Dunn and Love Dunn

It looks like paradise…only it’s not. This was supposed to be a once-in-a-lifetime family trip to Thailand. One last wish for my dying mama. Instead, we’re stranded on a lush, stunning island with ten strangers—held captive as Thai mythology unfolds around us…and within us.

Now we’re being tested. We’re expected to face our greatest fears—and possible deaths—in hopes of awakening some kind of dormant gift…or curse. One by one, we’re transforming, echoing the strange and sometimes wondrous abilities found in Thai folktales. But my mama has only days to live, my papa is missing, and I’m forced to trust a group of strangers…including our evasive, dark-eyed tour guide, who resembles a minor god. Toss me in the ocean and feed me to the naga now.

Only I’m no hero. My days are managed by numbers and the compulsions that used to keep me safe. I have to prove how far I can go. To survive. To protect my family. And to find a way off this perilous island where everything is a lie…including reality.

Carry My Secret to Your Grave (Murder, She Wrote #2) by Stephanie Kuehn

Small town murders. Big time thrills. The second installment in the suspenseful, modern update of the classic mystery TV series. Perfect for fans of One of Us Is Lying, Sadie, and Gossip Girl.

“Someone knows where you live. And whoever they are, they want you to know… you’re next.” Bea Fletcher never met a cold case she didn’t want to solve. So when she finds herself staying with family near Lake Paloma, she’s torn. Sure, she’s not thrilled to be bunking with her moody, taciturn uncle and his wife while her father’s out of town. Being away from Cabot Cove means less time for Bea to work on her true crime blog, visit her great-aunt Jessica, and spend time with new friends Leisl, Leif, and Carlos and the mysterious underground treasure hunting game they’ve been playing.

But Lake Paloma has mysteries of its own, including the unsolved drowning of teenaged Eden Vicente the year before. And when Bea starts to ask questions about Eden’s death, the answers lead her closer to home than she ever imagined. If Bea isn’t careful, she could be the next girl to end up at the bottom of the lake.

What the River Knows by Isabel Ibañez

Bolivian-Argentinian Inez Olivera belongs to the glittering upper society of nineteenth century Buenos Aires, and like the rest of the world, the town is steeped in old world magic that’s been largely left behind or forgotten. Inez has everything a girl might want, except for the one thing she yearns the most: her globetrotting parents—who frequently leave her behind.

When she receives word of their tragic deaths, Inez inherits their massive fortune and a mysterious guardian, an archeologist in partnership with his Egyptian brother-in-law. Yearning for answers, Inez sails to Cairo, bringing her sketch pads and an ancient golden ring her father sent to her for safekeeping before he died. But upon her arrival, the old world magic tethered to the ring pulls her down a path where she soon discovers there’s more to her parent’s disappearance than what her guardian led her to believe.

With her guardian’s infuriatingly handsome assistant thwarting her at every turn, Inez must rely on ancient magic to uncover the truth about her parent’s disappearance—or risk becoming a pawn in a larger game that will kill her.

The Space Between Here and Now by Sarah Suk

Seventeen-year-old Aimee Roh has Sensory Time Warp Syndrome, a rare condition that causes her to time travel to a moment in her life when she smells something linked to that memory. Her dad is convinced she’ll simply grow out of it if she tries hard enough, but Aimee’s fear of vanishing at random has kept her from living a normal life.

When Aimee disappears for nine hours into a memory of her estranged mom–a moment Aimee has never remembered before–she becomes distraught. Not only was this her longest disappearance yet, but the memory doesn’t match up with the story of how her mom left–at least, not the version she’s always heard from her dad.

Desperate for answers, Aimee travels to Korea, where she unravels the mystery of her memories, the truth about her mother, and the reason she keeps returning to certain moments in her life. Along the way, she realizes she’ll need to reconcile her past in order to save her present.

[hehehhe1d]

I first heard What Makes You Beautiful when I was in 2nd grade, and stupidly enough, I didn't like it. What's the big fuss about some teenaged boys singing at the beach? Nothing.

I heard Best Song Ever and I danced like there was no tomorrow in 5th grade, and then I felt Story of My Life was sad. But I didn't understand what it meant, or how much I'll be falling in love with these five boys in the near future.

In 7th grade, I heard about some guy leaving, some new song called Drag Me Down and then some band going on a break, and it didn't bother me much because they were just a bunch of rich singers.

8th Grade came, and Drag Me Down would play early in the morning on my school speakers of all places. Probably the first of their songs that I knew all the words to, but duh, who cares. And then one day when life got too hard, Rhea told me about this little boy band she's been obsessed with. And my egoistic 13 year old self pretended not to like it much. Then one day I found myself singing something called You & I that she'd forced me to listen to, and then I heard more of their songs, and then the old video diaries, and interviews and all of a sudden my life was full of Liam, Niall, Louis, Zayn and Harry.

One Direction pulled me through so much. I found myself obsessing over Little Things, it made me feel loved. I loved dancing to She's Not Afraid, imagining 18 playing when I would eventually fall in love some day, hoping one day I'd have as much fun as they did in the Live While We're Young video. I wanted to do nothing more than go to a One Direction concert when they would reunite.

The solo music came along then, and I loved every bit of it, but every night, right before I slept, I'd pray for a One Direction reunion, all five of them together.

It was all I wanted until Nanaji passed away. After that I wanted to kill myself every day, and I tried but failed every time. But these boys were here, pulling me through it. I prayed each night that I wouldn't wake up the next morning, but I did, every damn day. And these five got me through each day, making sure I was okay, even though they didn't even know I existed.

I got psychiatric help and eventually did get better for a while, and every day I danced my heart out to One Direction, and their solo songs. I even did that little fangirl scream after months, when I found out they were going to dance to Strip That Down on my seniors' farewell party. Mom and Dad would go to the temple after dinner, and that was our time, those 30 minutes each night. My silly ass would wait for them to leave, stick a picture of One Direction on the wall, plug in a pen drive to the TV and dance. The first time Where We Are was on Vh1, I sat on the floor so that I could feel like I was 'in the audience'. I didn't care if everyone thought I was crazy. I was happy, and I wanted to stay that way. Mannya did eventually get bored, maybe even moved on, but I didn't. I didn't need to when I have them, the best thing I could have had. And to have a video with Story Of My Life playing as the background music on my own Graduation Day with a picture collage of all my memories at school from 12 years? Absolute happiness. I met my new best friend, converted her to a Directioner, and it was just us and our favourite boys, doing everything nice. Nothing mattered except for the fact that my crazy little mind thought I could marry Niall and become best friends with Louis, Liam, Harry and Zayn.

COVID-19 was horrible. Nothing could have prepared me for what was to come and how everything would go wrong. I was back to being depressed to the point that I wouldn't get out of bed unless it was to use the washroom. My family had their own troubles and it was just me, getting through things I couldn't explain to anyone. I was slowly losing interest in everything, even One Direction, and it was hurting me so much. I didn't want to live, but still, I hoped one day I could be okay again. I loved and supported the boys through it but there was always more on my mind, and I felt like I wasn't being the best fan, but I tried.

I'd only recently started doing better. I lived alone for almost six months, and it made me find myself again. And every chance I had, there was a One Direction song playing. Things were nowhere close to what they had been before 2020 but I was hoping I could change it. I'm almost old enough to get a job, and I would get myself and my family out of this mess. And probably, hopefully, still get a chance to see One Direction together. I still hoped for it after almost 9 years. Because they still make me happy. They've been the ones to get me out of situations where I wanted to kill myself, situations that I never discussed with anyone, not even my best friend.

Liam is not doing okay. I could see it. The amount of hate that he has been getting recently is disgusting. Nobody seems to care about what it could do to his confidence, and it scares me. People learnt nothing from Johnny Depp and Amber Heard's case. It worries me and I wish I were rich enough to get on a plane and see him and tell him I trust him and I love him and nobody in the world can ever tell me he could be so wrong.

I can't put into words the things that I have been feeling today. You have been pushing him too far. The man that makes my life better is suffering. To wake up to this news is not something I could have imagined. It's horrible, and I don't think I can ever recover. I think I can't trust anyone now, that I can't rely on anyone anymore. Maybe next time there won't be anyone to pull me out of things when they get too much. Maybe that could be a good thing. Because maybe I could go where he has gone and hopefully give him that hug, and tell him that I trusted him, and I can never hate him.

[galaxyregent]

Here we have Dagur's Family, his mother Iona and his sister Brenna as a child. As you can see Brenna and Dagur favor their mother. I imagine Oswald had red hair too, though faded from the years. All three of Oswald's children got his eyes. Heather got dark hair from her mother.

Iona was a fierce and well respected warrior of the tribe, coming for a prominent family. She came from a family where she had one brother (Harold/Herald) and two sisters.

When I picture Iona and Oswald's relationship, I dont picture one of deep love but practicality. Iona was a good match for the chief and she found fulfillment in bettering her tribe and assisting him in war. She was never the type to stand still. Even though they weren't in love, they respected each other deeply. There was never a whisper of infidelity on either party while Iona lived.

Iona loved her children fiercely, wanting only the best for them in the future. It was actually more from Iona than Oswald the children get their mental instability from. Iona was great at managing it, on the battlefield she always let loose. For those who don't know, Berserkers were a supposedly real type of warrior among vikings. They would drink some kind of medicine, likely a serious stimulant, and charge into the battle fields, destroying all in their wake. It was said in battle they couldn't even differentiate between friends and foes so even allies had to give them a wide berth.

Brenna and Dagur loved their mother in turn, but only Brenna remembers her with any clarity. Still, Dagur remembers the fierce-some warrior his mother was from stories and faint memories. In BB I always right Dagur having deep respect for women, which seems to be canon too. That was partly due to Brenna being a domineering presence when they were children. She forced him to do her chores a lot.

It's never been clear why Oswald became agreeable, but I have a theory in the BB universe. Brenna is older than Dagur, and when she was born, there were many talks about a potential spouse. Wars between the tribes make intermarriage difficult, so they were trying to think of a spouse on island. However it was difficult, the population of the Berserker tribe is pretty much all related, more or less, especially the more influential clans. Now, inbreeding was nowhere near as understood as it now, but people understand cause and effect. Blood being too close has long since a valid reason to dissolving marriages of aristocracy.

When tribes are at war, blood becomes concentrated leading to sickly babes and deformities. Oswald found that every potential, suitable partner for Brenna was too close in blood. Then he had an idea. Even though he was at war with other tribes, he respected their leaders as warriors and men. What if there was a way to conquer tribes without bloodshed? What about marriage?

Slowly he begins his journey and establishing peace with other tribes. Brenna is promised to young heir of Hysteria tribes, one of his chief rivals. This bring peace and boost of commerce and fresh blood into both tribes, alliance also helps with dragon problem.

Peace with the Hooligan tribe is equally important, so he's thrilled when Stoick has a daughter while he has a son. Considering the difficulties with Hiccup's birth and the slew of failed pregnancies prior to her it's unlikely Stoick would have another child. This is confirmed when Valka is taken and Stoick refuses to take another wife.

It's an added bonus because law would support Hiccup's right to inherit the chief mantle. In the beginning it looked difficult because Stoick wanted his girl to stay close and resolve the succession crisis by marrying her to his nephew, his next closest relation. Eventually, Oswald convinces him to marry Hiccup to Dagur.

This plan actually kind of works because four of his six grandchildren are chiefs in their own right; his three grandsons through Dagur and his granddaughter Silvi through Brenna. Each chief ruling over a powerful tribe.

Iona means both Dove and Island

Brenna means burning or torch, again referencing her hair