#i used my alarm for the first time in like forever but turned the volume up too much and ended up casting rooster noises upon the house

[happylandfill23]

today has certainly been one of the days i've ever had

[rustboxstarr]

♥︎ This is 46 ♥︎

Being married and having kids isn't always as amazing as it sounds, making time for each together can prove to be quite fucking difficult but finally you get a chance.

Pairings: Dad!Eddie Munson x Mom! plus size reader

CW: Smut, P in V, Creampie, swearing, protected sex (contraseptives but not mentioned) be safe bro, smexy photos, illusions to masturbating at work, distance within relationship. R & Eddie have two daughters, mechanic! Eddie

Word count: 4.7k

A/N: Look who managed to get off their ass and write a fic (Only took fucking forever) hope ya'll like it. If you have any issues using my links the newer works will be under the tag #starrwrites and #starrthinks 🥰 would you like more adult, domestic, married and parents reader & Eddie? tell me :)

Love yas!

Check out my other works!

The morning sun mildly filtered through the curtains, shedding light in the room, it was harmonious, peaceful, calm.. until your husband's alarm rang out on the loudest volume signaling 7 am. You groaned as you awkwardly woke from your medicated sleep. Hair in a mess, residue of makeup from the day before and a drooping boob on full show from constantly turning in the middle of the night in your slip dress nightgown. You rubbed your eyes angrily and sloppily as you noticed the alarm was still ringing. Turning your head to the side you saw Eddie fast asleep, completely undisturbed. You lay a palm on his shoulder, nudging his body in an attempt to wake him. Unsuccessful. You nudged him harder this time. “Eddie” you spoke, trying to wake him. 

Eddie stirred in his sleep as his eyes slowly opened. “Hmm?” he hummed in question, he let out a loud groan as he turned and switched his alarm off. He rolled back around to face you as you were adjusting your nightgown. Eddie grinned “Sexy” he commented with a pump of his eyebrows. “Shut up” you joked as you once again rolled your eyes and took a sip of water from the glass on your bedside table. “C’mere” Eddie held his hand out signaling for you to snuggle up to him. You lay back down, adjusting yourself on your side as Eddie wrapped his arms around you, snuggling his head into the crook of your neck. “Good morning” you greeted with a yawn,  “Missed you last night” he hummed. “Yeah sorry, late night but atleast I get to go in at ten today” you said groggily. 

“Oh so you have some time then?” he smirked into your cheek. “Yeah.. why?” you asked, slightly suggestive, knowing where he was heading. In response, Eddie forced his hips along the mattress pressing up against you to make you aware of his stiff morning wood. “Oh well good morning to you too” you giggled. “Corny, really corny Y/L/N” he chuckled. “Hey, it's Munson remember” you grinned. 

“Well Mrs Munson, how would you feel about getting dicked down by Mr Munson before he heads off to work?” Eddie forced his hips against your ass again. “Corny, really corny Munson” you quoted back to him. A hand slunk back from its soft hold on Eddie's arm to pull at the hem of his boxers, signaling for him to take them off. 

“Exited are we?” he joked. “Hey you're the one with the hard on” you smirked as you could feel your husband rustling around behind you and then his bare cock pressing hard against the cheeks of your ass. Eddie's hand traveled down from your hips to hover by your mound. “Ooh no undies I see, naughty girl” he growled in your ear, earning a giggle from you. “Gross, don’t call me that this isnt some trashy porno you hide in your browser history” his head popped up beside you, as you craned your neck you saw his confused expression, eyebrows pulled together. “How do you know about those?”

“Well first of all I’m not an idiot, second” you whispered in a raspy dramatic voice “I know everything”

His hand slank to your thigh, tapping it for you to spread your legs, he then found his cock, leading it to your cunt, now on display from your parted legs. He forced his cock past your folds and straight to the goal, having no problem thanks to the slick that had gathered during the night. Your mouth may be dry from the propavan but your cunt surely wasn't. He groaned in your ear as he felt a powerful relief. Once he bottomed out his hand circled round your thigh and found your clit. As you let out a gasp from the sensation your leg dropped back down to a more comfortable position. 

“Fuck” Eddie breathed as he began slowly forcing his hips back and forth in a sensual pace. Matching his slow circles pressing into your clit. Your arm which previously waited patiently for Eddie wrapped around his neck and shoulders to slither into his bedhead of curls behind you. Eddie hummed at the sensation as he closed his eyes, focusing on forcing his hips back and forth. “God I missed this” you sighed as your own mess of hair rested against Eddie's forehead. “Me too” Eddie groaned as he quickened his pace. A slight moan escaped your lips as you arched your back, forcing your hips closer to his. 

“MOM!” a shout from downstairs made you jump in surprise. Eddie groaned in frustration. “MOM! Roxy ate the last poptart!” you could tell Ophelia, your eldest, was getting frustrated with her younger sister Roxette, she had a habit of screeching when her emotions were in overdrive and you were not about to handle a panic attack over poptarts at 7 in the morning. 

Eddie's hips stilled at the interruption, you groaned as you heard the 13 and 16 year old start to bicker in the kitchen. A shout of “MOM she's pulling my hair!!” from Ophelia had you groaning in annoyance and hurriedly get away from Eddie behind you. Stumbling as you got to the floor and pulled your nightgown up to hide your boobs. “I'm coming!” you shouted as you hurried out of the room to break up the fight. 

Eddie groaned in his spot on the bed and rolled over on his back. He adjusted himself to sit back in his boxers as he threw his head back against the pillows with a “FUCK!”

It had been a while since the two of you had been intimate, with two teenage kids who had their own issues and two full time jobs, finding time for each other was difficult, you had to treasure every moment you could spare. 

–

Your next opportunity to be close to Eddie came a few days later:

“Alright, better get up, I need a shower” you explained as you groggily lifted the bedsheets and padded across the floor to the bathroom. “Hey, maybe I can join you?” Eddie asked slightly hopeful, he had ten minutes before he had to rush and leave for work, you were dropping the kids off today but not for another 40 minutes. 

“Ooh” you hummed as you turned the doorknob. “That sounds nice” you smiled as you walked through the door. Once you made it past the threshold Eddie hurled himself out of the bed, stumbling over his work clothes on the floor and almost falling over. Stumbling into the bathroom he groaned as he saw your naked form in the bathroom littered with plants. 

“Fuck, you are so sexy” he hummed as he slid in behind you, pushing his hard cock against your ass, already awake with the excitement of a quickie in the shower. You hummed, pleased as you craned your neck to the side to let Eddie kiss at the soft skin. 

“Ok, come on I only have-” He checked the time on his watch “- 9 minutes before I have to leave” you giggled as he slapped your ass, gesturing you into the shower. You hurried in kicking your nightie along with your panties out of the direct firing range of splashing water, stepping into the shower and being quick to skip backwards away from the cold rush of water. You felt Eddie’s warm hands wrap around your waist as he walked you to the water. 

“Ok hurry big guy, you need to go soon” you reminded him. “Yes boss” he placed his hand on your shoulder, pushing on it slightly, guiding you to bend over and place your hands on the wall. “Get ready for the best fuck you’ve had in a while” Eddie joked, earning an eyeroll and a chuckle from you as you felt his tip push against your fold. “Fuuuuck” Eddie groaned as he slid in your wet cunt. A loud groan slipped from his lips as he bottomed out, “Eddie, shh the kids are downstairs”. He began thrusting slowly, hands gripping onto the fat of your hips as his head relaxed on his shoulders and rolled back. You hummed in pleasure at the slow pace as you loosened your body, letting go of a tense buildup in your muscles. 

“Wish we could do this more often” Eddie groaned as he began thrusting faster. You closed your eyes in pleasure at the feeling of him finally being inside you, sweet relief. With each thrust Eddie picked up the pace, rushing to find mostly his own release but also yours before the clock rang time to go loser. In a deep focus he hunched back over your frame, watching as you bobbed back and forth against the wall with the force of his hips. 

“Shit, 6 minutes” he complained as he began drilling faster. “Fuck fuck fuck I’m-” he began in a loud whisper, he jumped out of fright when he heard a knock at the door, he turned his head expectantly. “Dad! Your phones ringing!” Roxette shouted through the door. Eddie sighed annoyed as his head fell back on his shoulder, this time not out of pleasure. 

“I’m coming!” he pulled out of you as you straightened up and turned to face him. “I’m so sorry” he whispered as his hands found their rightful place on your hips. “It's ok” you whispered as your ringed hand caressed the side of his face, stubble coming in despite his shaving two days prior. Just as he was about to kiss you “Dad!” 

“I’m coming! I'm coming!” he shouted again, this time more annoyance laced his voice. A quick peck on the lips before he rushed out to wrap a towel around his waist. “Ah I’d love to hear that sentence under different circumstances” you teased as you returned back to your shower. Eddie grimaced annoyed and sheepish, because he too would like to be saying that sentence under different circumstances. 

You didn't bother getting out to lock the door when Eddie left but you heard Roxy on the other side of the door “Did you just shower with mom?” you could hear the grossed out expression in her face as she spoke. “No, shut up” Eddie said at the confrontation, you grinned to yourself. “Heyyy Zander! What can I do for you?” His voice faded as he spoke to his coworker and hurriedly dressed himself with the phone on speaker.

–

Days passed and you had hardly seen Eddie, both on different work schedules and you on the line for a promotion had been staying late at the office. Yet somehow the two of you had managed to drop the kids off and pick them up from school and have at least one parent cook and eat dinner with them. By the time you came home at night everybody would be tucked into their beds, well almost everyone, 11 pm Roxy was asleep when you checked on her but Ophelia was still wide awake scrolling her phone in bed. 

“Hi love” you smiled as you creeped into her room. Sleep Token playing on her google nest in a low volume while she read, she had told you she was reading independent amateur writing about fictional characters on some app you couldn't remember but you knew that scene slightly, pretty sure she wasn't reading wholesome stories about Hogwarts and Harry Potter. 

“Hi” she answered back as she sat up, putting her phone down. 

You talked to Ophi for a few minutes before heading to the bathroom with a “Goodnight, go to sleep soon” As you entered your bedroom you found that Eddie was in fact fast asleep, each time you came home the past week to find everyone asleep your heart broke a little at the fact that you couldn't be around them much, but soon that would be over and you would all be more comfortable with the flood of income. A promise of a trip somewhere had helped soothe Roxy when she wondered why you were never around much. 

Quietly you got changed and headed for the bathroom and got ready for bed. You slipped under the covers and relaxed on your side, back facing Eddie ready to sleep the day away and then suddenly a glimmer of hope. Eddie stirred in his sleep and rolled over to face your body. He groaned as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against him, but within a second he was fast asleep again. 

– 

By now enough was enough, you missed Eddie and he missed you. You couldn't be intimate other than kissing a little and hugging a little too long when no eyes were watching but you could at least have a little fun with him. 

Princess Y/N 💕: Don't open the picture around people

It was 1.30 in the afternoon and you'd finally gotten a second of peace to yourself, so you decided to spend it in the bathroom. 

Princess Y/N 💕: *Image*

A photo of you in your employee bathroom at work, multiple blouse buttons discarded as you stood against the mirror with your phone up, taking a picture of the reflection of you leaning forward, tits covered by a deep blood red bra, his favorite, prominent cleavage from your large figure which had blessed you with a large set of tits which Eddie adored. One hand cupping your breast, the other on your phone, half your face in the picture. 

As you button up your blouse again your phone dinged;

Stupid guy 🎶♥︎🎤: Holy fucking shit

Stupid guy 🎶♥︎🎤: You have time for a quick call???? im in the bathroom at work

Princess Y/N 💕: Sorry baby, i have a meeting in 5 and i have to get ready

Princess Y/N 💕: But enjoy the photo, love you, see you tonight

Stupid guy 🎶♥︎🎤: 😭😭😭

Stupid guy 🎶♥︎🎤: Love you too, so much ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Princess Y/N 💕: I’ll be home at 7 btw (yay), Ophi’s out but Roxy's home, we’ll have a nice dinner

Stupid guy 🎶♥︎🎤: 🍕🍔➡️🍆💦💦💦

Princess Y/N 💕: Ur 46 u shouldnt be using those emojis

Stupid guy 🎶♥︎🎤: U sayin im old???????

Princess Y/N 💕: Yup, byeee

Finally the clock struck 7 pm and you were home free. Eddie was already stood in the kitchen cooking dinner. “Ooh smells nice” you hummed as you entered the kitchen “Yup, mushroom risotto” he grinned and you, leaning down for a kiss, just as your lips met you backed off “Babe, Roxy doesn't like mushrooms” you told him with a sigh. 

“I know” he grinned again, a devious little display on his lips, only earning a frown from you “Is she not here?” you asked confused as you gave him a quick peck on the lips before bending down to slip your heels off “Nope, shipped her off to switzerland” you cocked your head with an unamused look on your face. Eddie chuckled “She is actually staying the night at Missys, told her she could since it's friday” he couldn't help the excitement on his face. “Wait so we're alone? Till the other one comes home?” your eyes went wide at the fact that you finally had the house all to yourselves, with both of you in it!

“Nope”

You frowned “Were alone aaaaaaall night. Little miss teenage rebel is staying with her boyfriend tonight” you backed off once again slightly “Ooh don't like that” you told him as you placed your hands behind your back stretching. “Yeah me neither, but I told her the rules, and even if she breaks them, which, she will, it won't be anything worse than what we did at her age. And if her staying the night at Matt’s is what gets her out of the house so we can have some time for ourselves is what it takes then so be it.”

“I love you” you smiled as you gave him a deep kiss “I'm just going to change into something more comfortable, I’ll be right back” you told him as you scurried off up the stairs. 

First time finally getting to be with your husband undisturbed in two months, this was a big deal. You estimated Eddie would be done in about a half hour which gave you plenty of time. You hopped into the shower first, tying your hair up so it wasn't wet when you went back down for dinner you began. You showered your whole body and scrubbed it clean with various heavily scented soaps. It was too short notice to shave your mound and expect it not to be red and irritated but you could at least trim it, you felt awkward using your hair scissors down there but at least when Eddie was around to see you you wouldn't be sporting a hairy jungle. You shaved your legs, your arms and even the small hairs gathering on your big toe, that felt extremely weird but you were excited and wanted to look and feel your best when you finally had sex with Eddie. Once you got out you smothered your body in lotion, strawberry scented just to ensure that your legs and arms were as smooth as possible. 

When you finally set foot at the top of the stairs you were clean, shaven, fresh wearing a matching black and dark purple set of sexy underwear from the really expensive part of Twilfit concealed under a pair of leggings and a baggy t-shirt. The second you stepped into the kitchen Eddie's arms were wrapped around you, a kiss landed on your forehead “mm you smell nice, did you shower?” “Yeah just quickly, wash the day off” you reasoned, getting a hum in response. “Well sit down, because you are getting the princess treatment tonight” he grinned as he guided you to the table. “I prefer queen thank you very much” you flicked your hair goofily earning a chuckle from Eddie. “Whatever you say baby” 

Dinner was heavenly, Eddie had outdone himself, and had clearly cooked to impress. By the time the last spoonful was gone you felt happy and content, sipping the last of your red wine in the crystal glass, a wedding present, part of a set of six. Just as Eddie was about to rise from his comfortable position across from you you halted him “I’ll clean up” you smiled. All Eddie could do was watch as you began loading the bottom rack of the dishwasher, sinking back into the dining chair and spreading his legs while you bent down. 

In Eddie's mind it was obvious you were finally going to have sex, just as soon as you loaded the dishwasher, it didn't cross his mind that foreplay was probably something that would be appreciated by you or any kind of affection beforehand so he just went for it. When you finished loading the dishwasher you straightened up to clean up the mess that was left from cooking, that's when Eddie decided to saunter over to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and nestling his cheek against your hair. “What do you say we move this to the bedroom?” you felt him force his hips against your ass, revealing his hard on that had worked up from watching you clean up. He grinned as you turned your head to peer up at him. “Oh I thought we could cuddle up and watch a movie on the couch, I'm kind of tired” you lied, nothing in your facial expression hinted towards you joking and Eddie's face fell. “Really?” he asked incredulously “What?” you turned in his arms to face him, his body cradling you against the kitchen counter. “We haven't had sex in like two months, we finally get the house to ourselves and you want to cuddle?” he raised his eyebrows, miffed but also slightly annoyed. “Is that all you think about? Sex?” you huffed at him, still playing your face neutral. 

“Well no” he averted his gaze from you as he delivered those words, in reality all he had thought about since he realized both girls were out for the night was finally getting you to himself, in bed, with no interruptions. His eyes met yours again “But we haven't, you know been with each other for like ages, and you sent me that photo today!” he realized as an argument. “So? Sexy photos doesnt mean you can just fuck me whenever you want” you couldn’t help the slight tug of your lips, cursing yourself for it. Eddie noticed it right away, wheels spinning in is head till he came to the conclusion that you were fucking with him. “Oh really?” he grinned. “Nope, takes two to tango” you grinned at the lame wording. “Oh so I can't just bend you over right here and have my way with you?” his hands retracted from their laced position behind your back to slither to your hips and grab a firm handful of the fat covering them. “Nope” you repeated. “Wanna bet?” “I hardly think you have the balls to actually do that, seeing as you're an old man and were not 20 anymore” you smiled. 

He smirked mischievously at you and was quick to indeed flip you around against the counter, force your hips against the edge and push your shoulders down to the cold marble. “I may be old as you call it” he slipped his hands under your shirt to find the hem of the black leggins and slip his fingers under the fabric, drawing his hands to your sides “But I would like to think I haven’t lost my spark yet” he ripped the fabric down your thighs harshly. Backing off slightly to allow him access to draw a finger against the purple fabric concealing your pussy. His touch was feather light as we guided his pointer finger along the slit of your chubby skin. You hummed at the feeling and retorted “I don't” adjusting yourself to support yourself on your forearms and arch your back slightly. At that he went through the same procedure with your underwear as he did your legging, he ripped them down to find your core. 

Knowing what was to come you spread your legs as wide as the fabric gathered around your mid thigh would allow you, revealing your cunt to him finally. A low groan from the back of his throat echoed through the walls of the kitchen. He once again brought his pointer finger up to you to slip it in only one knuckle deep. “Talk a lot to be so wet” he pushed his finger in further “How do you know its not discharge?” you grinned “Discharge doesn't stain your underwear baby” another knuckle, his finger now fully drawn in by your wet walls. His harsh demeanor of wording dropped as he breathed a simply “I've missed this”  

Your heart squeezed “Me too” you whispered. “Good” the harsh exterior was up again and on guard. You heard Eddie unbuckle his belt and zip the fly down. As much as you wanted to have slow passionate sex and reconnect to each other's touch starved bodies, doing it this way was best for the both of you. There was a requirement for an outlet, and if riling Eddie up was the way to it, you would happily oblige, loving sex would come later but for now rough and loaded sex was perfect. 

His hand wrapped around the base of his cock as he took a step closer to you, your round figure covering what he desired he went in blind, eyes fixed on the slope of your hips he grasped onto your left and nudged himself blindly against you. He found what he was looking for quickly and pushed himself inside. His tip rested around hot flesh as his head lolled back on his shoulders, “Fuuuuck” he groaned as he forced his hips slowly to be flush against the fat of your ass, you let out a low deep moan at the action and expected him to start thrusting almost instantly, when he didn't you opened your mouth and was about to tell him move goddammit when he finally forced himself to retract his hips only to slam them back against you. He did it so quickly and with such force that you couldn't help the loud almost pornographic moan that ripped itself from your chest.  

He let out a loud groan and within seconds was at a relatively fast pace drawing his hips from you and thrusting them back in. Both his hands grasped hard at your hips, pushing and pulling you against him, making you rock back and forth against the countertop. He held onto you so hard it was almost painful but you couldn't focus on that when the head of his cock began hitting you at the sweet spot that if he hit too hard or too long would eventually leave you crying and not from pleasure. It wasn't often Eddie could hit that spot, not when you were lying down, only with your back to him or sat on top of him and everytime it was a gamble, being on top of him would most definitely make it painful but when he was thrusting into you from behind you could properly feel that distinguished pleasure. 

Loud moans and groans were heard from the picture perfect cute little kitchen in an equally cute and little house, a great contrast from what was actually going on. Eddie was cursing as he worked his body as hard as he could while you breathed and moaned strings of fucking christ, feels so good fuck, and yeah right there, fuck right there. 

“Shit baby, I-I wont last long” Eddie heaved from behind you, willing himself to hold back but he couldnt when he hadnt touched you or fucked you like this for ages, it was all too much. “It's ok-” you broke off with a moan as Eddie hit one very harsh and angry thrust. With only Eddies cock you wouldn’t cum anyway, you needed some other form of stimulation or at least for a longer time in order to reach your high, and even then it was only a mild wave that you barely even noticed that came. Eddie knew this, and always made sure to make you cum in one way or another, on occasions he could hold out till that small wave hit but this time he was just sorry that he couldn't make it last even a little longer for it to actually be enjoyable for you.

As Eddie began thrusting faster, the previous pleasure of just being in the moment, having sex with Eddie turned to something else. You felt it, that tingle in your core, as if something other than your walls was squeezing at your pussy. You could only assume it was because of Eddie's rough pace and the fact that you hadn't had this pleasure in forever. “Shit” you breathed in suprise “Fuck, fuck, Eddie I’m gonna cum” you moaned . “Shit really?” he breathed “Yes, Yes! just- just keep going!” that second yes was nowhere near an answer to Eddie but a loud praise at the fact that you were about to cum and only within about a minute of Eddie slipping inside you. “Fuck, fuck ok” Eddie shut his eyes tightly, willing his body to hold out just a little while longer. 

That tingle gained power within seconds, spreading from your core to your hips, stomach and thigh which were forcing themselves to close. “Fuck” you let out an extremely loud moan which would no doubt be heard my Ms.Driscol had she been out in her garden at that moment. “Fuck Eddie I’m coming. Ahh I’m coming!” you practically screamed. Another scream and that tingle exploded within you, shards flowing throughout your body as if to say I'm done now, you can relax. The effects of the explosion lasted for a few seconds before the message had been received and your limbs gave up on you. As you breathed heavily Eddie released a mix of happy excited laughs at his accomplishment and groans of pleasure. He let out a particularly loud one when you felt his hips force as close to you as space would allow and his back arch in a strain as heavy loads of cum spilled within your walls. 

Finally you collapsed, had your upper body not been splayed on the counter you would have crumpled to the floor. Eddie breathed heavily as he bent over laying his head on your shoulder blade. 

After what felt like a long time Eddie huffed a laugh “fuck, that was good”, you chuckled “you think so? I felt it was mediocre at best” “Oh shut up” his weak hand squeezed once again at your hip making you giggle again. “Now can we watch a movie and cuddle?” you smiled. “Sorry baby I wish but I have plans on counting orgasms tonight”

“That, was a horrible joke”

[eris-snow]

𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭

Tags: Deku's birthday series 2023, izuku x fem!reader, angst

The boy who’d you’d write letters to, short and sweet secrets you’d keep between the two of you.

I had a weird dream. Can we talk about it? I think it has something got to do with you.

-Izuku

--

“Kacchan!” Izuku cried, glancing around him frantically. Trees loomed all around him, lush greenery making every way he turned to look the same.

“Kacchan!”

Birds were chirping, cicadas screeching as he wandered through the forest while tears brim in his eyes.

How was he going to get home?

Was he going to be lost forever?

What if he—

Izuku tripped over a tree branch and yelped, falling face-first into a couple of bushes. Falling straight through with a cry, he hits the grass with a soft thud, tears finally bubbling over the low dam keeping his emotions at bay.

“Hey!” Someone called out, making him whip behind so fast he thought he’d broken his neck. His tears dry up almost immediately at the sound of a human voice.

Their face is blurry, like someone had taken a black crayon and scribbled their face out of the picture.

Izuku’s puffy red eyes make them chuckle before they put a finger on their lips. “Someone’s going to hear you, y’know. If you do that, that’ll ruin my secret clearing.”

“Who are you?” Izuku croaked, bruised by his fall.

The person shakes their head, sticking out a hand to him. “I’m—”

The cicadas shriek even louder, volume rising higher than the person’s voice. It morphs into a shrill, long ring, and the green-haired’s eyes shut at the ear-piercing sound, and discomfort, trying to focus on the person’s voice.

The alarm blaring makes Izuku shoot up from his bed, eyes snapping open. They’re frenzied, wild, and disoriented, and when he clenches his shirt, he can hear his heart pounding in his ears.

A tear slips down his face.

What the hell was that?

--

“Katsuki told me he’d join us,” You say the moment you get to the rooftop, throwing him an isotonic drink. You have another clutched in your hands, which you keep in your grasp. “You know, for your birthday. I don’t know why he told me, though. Didn’t you ask him?”

He catches it reflexively. “I texted him,” He corrected absentmindedly, eying the bottle like it was going to burst. “He left me on read.”

“Sounds like typical Katsuki,” you shrug, opening your bottle.

“If this thing explodes in my face, I’ll blame it on you,” Izuku warns, fingering the cap dangerously. “I don’t have an extra set of clothes, and there’s no way that I’m running to the dorms and back for laundry.”

“Oh, please, stop being dramatic. You could run there and back in less time than Kaminari can add 1+1.” You sigh. Green eyes meet yours, and that’s when you realise: Something’s not right.

“What’s up with that look? Does it have something to do with my note yesterday?”

“Yes and no.” He drawls inattentively, eyes pinned to the ground. “Well, I guess you could say that it is, since you’ve been writing really cryptic messages lately….not that I mind or anything! I’m just concerned, is all. As a friend! I hate it whenever you feel bad. But I got a weird dream yesterday and it’s living in my mind rent-free now. I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean, or who it’s about, but for some reason, I feel like it’s got something to do with you. Every time I think about it now, though, it just gets fuzzier. I tried to pen it down and everything—”

“Zuku, you’re rambling,” You remind him gently, placing a hand on his hand to get him to stop. As fast as lightning, he retracts his hand and mumbles out a flustered apology, and it pulls your lips down into a frown. You backtrack to what he said, and you try to squash the flame of hope that had kindled at the bottom of your heart. Dreams? Does this mean—?

“It’s just—I don't know! They started the day after the Villain Attack. I can’t remember them, but—” he breaks off, head throbbing. “There’s always a feeling there. And it’s always the same one I get when I’m with you.”

Your voice hitches, digesting the new information. You hesitate for a second, wondering if you should push the barriers of the quirk. The last few times you’d tried to introduce the idea of the Quirk Accident to him too quickly, he reacted badly to it. Whether it was physical denial…or the Quirk’s side effects.

“You have two options: The helpful one, or the fun one. Choose now.” You demand.

Izuku raises his eyebrow. “What’s the fun one?”

“Are you choosing the fun one?”

“That depends,” He says thoughtfully. “If it’s something I don’t like, can I open this in your face?”

“Hell no!” You bark, relaxing slightly. At least he was feeling well enough to crack jokes.

“I’ll choose the fun one,” He sighs, running a hand through his messy green hair.

You’re off like a bullet train. “Zuku, have you seen…memories? Of things, you never remembered happening?”

You talk about it, and you carefully ease a couple of your childhood into the mix, just to gauge his reaction.

The minute he stops to clutch his head, you put your story on pause.

“You good?” You ask, a concerned arm being placed on his shoulder.

“Yeah, j-just…headache,” He smiles at you weakly, but you bite your lip in regret, your mood turning sour. You know what this means.

This conversation was over.

“I’ll meet you back in class.” You say, standing up. You find yourself staring at him in the eyes, taking the time to fully appreciate the recognition and understanding in his eyes…before turning away. “Drink that before you get back.”

The moment you’re gone, Izuku’s headache soothes. The twinge in his heart, however, doesn’t go away. Sighing, he opens the bottle away from his face.

The foam spills on the ground, overflowing past the lid. He can’t help but think of how well that described his emotions pooling out of him now.

--

You loved Izuku for your entire life. It wasn’t always in a romantic way, but because of his ever-present existence in your life, it made it difficult not to like him.

There was no one incident that made you realise you liked the broccoli head, but the Quirk Accident had caused your feelings to evolve without you realising it. It was a daily thing. Simple things like his sweet smile, his beautiful, expressive green eyes, and how genuine he was in a world full of liars.

He’d never hide a thing from you, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. Izuku used to be as transparent as glass, even though he isn’t like that in public anymore.

Izuku was there in all phases of your life in one way or another, tied by what you might call fate.

Time and time again, you reintroduced yourself with a smile to an Izuku that didn’t know you.

You’ve done it several times now, and it hurts like someone had cracked your ribcage.

It hurts to be near him, but it hurts even more to be away.

And you’ve learnt that each time he forgets you, you’d come back to him again, even though it cut like diamond shards.

You realised that at the young age of 10.

You only discovered it was something larger than platonic feelings in your 13th year on the planet.

When you hear him talk so excitedly about his dreams that you’ve heard a thousand times over.

When you get to reintroduce the clearing to him again, when you get to call him Zuku again, when he renames you as Starlight…

Shit, you laugh to yourself, when he calls you Starlight once more. I like him.

Secrets tumble out in the form of childish Post-it notes.

I like your eyes.

I like the nickname.

I wish you knew.

That was the only way.

To convey how you felt, to communicate your feelings to him…could only be done in the form of Secrets.

--

I like your kindness, even though it causes people to take advantage of you sometimes. P.s. I hope your headache feels better. I’m a door away if you wanna talk.

[ambiguouspenny]

I would love to hear about see a friend see a ghost or the hearing loss fic. whichever one you'd like. (or both, both is good :D )

Hello! I can do both!

see a friend (see a ghost) is my baby. We call her "Hellfic" and not for no reason. I have the first chapter completed and I have a lot of accompanying art planned to go with it. I am withholding a lot of details for now until I can get my first chapter up, but I want to have another chapter or two under my belt before I post it. It's a canon divergence au, and what I can say is that whenever I'm working on it I just think "I'm going to need folks to hold onto that 'angst with a happy ending' tag for dear life, and just trust me"

the-TK-hearing-loss-fic is the first idea I had come to mind when I walked into this fandom and found we had a boy out here always getting concussed. I wanted to tackle the idea of what developing a sensory disability would mean for TK and those around him in his line of work and what all of that would mean for his sense of self and his relationships.

I put this on pause because see a friend (see a ghost) came to me one night fully formed and I had to dive into it and because I want to make sure I'm taking this subject really seriously and there's a lot of research that needs to happen to allow me to do that.

I do have a small little tester snippet of it though that I will leave below, it's not a perfect representation of what I think the fic will become so proceed with care and caution. I'm always open to feedback on the subject also!

Disclaimer: This may contain some medical inaccuracies, as this is the idea in its infancy. The first word Carlos learns to sign for TK is “soulmate.” It was early on, a week or so after they’d sat next to each other in the audiologist’s office as they were told how things would go as TK lost his hearing. It would happen slowly at first, and then all at once it would be gone. It was a weird thing, to receive such a terminal prognosis for something other than dying.

TK was at home. He’d taken a few days of leave to try and situate himself with this new reality. He was also trying to get used to the hearing aids. They wouldn’t work forever, the doctor had said, sitting across from TK and Carlos, demonstrating how to turn them on and increase the volume and where to change their batteries. They wouldn’t work forever, but they’d prolong the inevitable for just a little while longer.

He’d removed them, shutting them off and placing them back into the tiny plastic case by the time Carlos came home. He didn’t hear the clunk of the deadbolt or the roll of the door as it opened, so he’d startled when Carlos came around the corner, setting an arm full of groceries on the counter.

“Hi— Baby.” TK says, hoping not to trigger any alarms of concern from Carlos. It doesn’t work.

“Shit, why aren’t you wearing your hearing aids TK?” TK makes out Carlos asking as he walks from the kitchen to the couch, abandoning the groceries.

“They give me a headache.” It’s not a lie. But the truth is that TK just wants to go back, wants things to just be normal for a little while longer. Carlos gives him a knowing look, because of course he knows, but he doesn’t question it, doesn’t push or insist that TK take an ibuprofen and keep on trying to adjust to this new scary thing in their lives.

Instead Carlos sits down in front of TK and grins. “I learned something today!” He says, and TK can’t help but notice the way he’s looking at him, making sure his face is clear and visible enough for TK to read his lips if he needs to.

“What did you learn today baby?” TK asks him and he can’t shake the smile that builds up in his chest and shows up written across his face. Because everything sucks right now but Carlos is looking at him like he loves him, and like he’s not broken. TK watches as Carlos sits back just a little bit and can tell by the way Carlos situates himself and his hands that he’s getting ready to show him something in sign language.

Carlos had started studying ASL immediately after their appointment. TK had been avoiding it. Now he tries to ignore the sting in the back of his throat that makes him want to scream. This is what their future looked like, it was not what he’d imagined for them. But here was Carlos, a week into the rest of their lives, already learning a new language just for him.

TK watches the flurry of Carlos’ hands. Carlos is careful with each gesture, each placement of his fingers handled like something delicate. When he’s finished, he sits back and looks at TK, waiting for a response and it takes a moment but when TK realizes what Carlos is waiting for he bursts into a giggling fit, burring his face against Carlos’ chest.

“What’s so funny??” Carlos asks, and its almost clear because of how close his mouth is to TK’s ear.

TK sits up, “baby, I don’t know what that means yet. You have to tell me!” And then they are both cracked apart with laughter and TK thinks about how normal it feels and tries not to get stuck there. “Show me again!”

With same the careful handling of each movement, Carlos starts again, this time he speaks each word out loud with it’s accompanying gesture:

“You” “Are” “My” “Soulmate.”

[darkness-compelled]

I met my sleep paralysis for the first time when I was twelve. Knowing my family’s religious nature, I decided to keep it to myself. Or at least until I knew what was going on. Unfortunately for me I was born in the age of the internet, luckily there was some information out there that gave me ease of mind. After that, I forgot about Damien forever.

Or at least that’s what I thought.

My relationship with sleep has always been a cycle, periods of little to no sleep, then nothing but sleep. I attribute it to the bipolar that runs in my family, among other things. As I’ve done research and tried out different support groups and therapy, I’ve figured out how to work with the messed up mind I’ve got.

However, none of the stuff I happened upon online, prepared me for waking up with my eyes already open. The first few times it happened, I didn’t really register the experience.

It started with a clock. I was out thrifting with my cousin who lives downtown and knows the best shops. Normally I pick things I can paint or break, but this clock spoke to me. I’ve learned to listen to my gut and plopped the chunky digital clock radio into the basket. Whim gave me a small look of judgment but said nothing.

I felt like I was connecting to this unknown past as I made a spot on my nightstand and plugged it in. Worked like a dream, not that I ever really planned to use the alarm or the radio, given today’s technology. The numbers were a deep red color, like mysterious rubies.

For the first couple months nothing changed, everything was feeling more and more stressful, as life tends to when you age. Then I entered another period of struggling to fall asleep and stay asleep. I’d look at the clock over and over and over and over and over. It felt like ten thousand times a night.

Falling asleep requires the perfect mix of distraction and soothing. I have an entire second bed prepared on the floor for when I get kicky. Restless mind, restless legs. At times I’ll play my favorite show and shove my phone under my pillow at low volume, just to hear voices. It reminds me of being a kid and listening to my parents talking in the other room. Sometimes I’ll prop my phone up and watch it until my eyes finally shut.

The first time I remember really thinking about it, I thought it was my phone playing a strange show where everyone was red. I woke up with my eyes open, studying the clock, trying to read the columns of color. I laughed to myself about it later, thinking what a fluke. Then it happened again, and again. I wake up propped up on my arm, eyes wide, turned toward the clock. Those red thrumming numbers, I can hear them sometimes, until I wake up.

I figured, what harm could it be? So I ignored it, and mostly forgot about it happening as I slowly slipped back into a cycle of sleep once more. Months passed, and things would continue to slowly remind me again and again, of the big red numbers. The hum of the fluorescent lights in the cafeteria, a car’s brake light after dark, a cherry 7up.

The more I tried to move away from these thoughts the more they call me back. Until I start to dream in all red.

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER EIGHT

“Uh oh.” 

The whooping alarm grows closer but Annie won’t react. I tuck the laptop under one arm and grasp Annie’s with the other, make a beeline for the hallway, front desk, then kitchen. Disordered cutlery and pans crash while Annie struggles to regain her composure. Weren’t we past this? Annie has iron nerves but the adrenaline gets to her way too easily.

“Police!” a female cop yells through the front entrance. Miles and Annie dart for the back door until I stop them. “Wait! She’s got a partner, bet my life on it. The other cop is probably gonna circle around to the back exit.”

A foot pounds against the door, Miles’s fingers sharply grip my shoulders. “So what do we do?!” 

I swing open the walk-in cooler to the stench of rotten meat. “Get in the damn fridge!” Once the door closes we huddle below the window in sudden silence. Miles still grips my arm, but loosens once he’s calmed his breathing. When a light beam sweeps past the window. Annie and I place our ears on the door and listen closely.

“Come out with your hands behind your head,” a male cop shouts. The light beams by the window again, briefly filling the small cooler with light. His footsteps echo through the room with increasing volume until he has to be just a few feet from us.

More footsteps, more silence. I know he’s getting closer, just a few steps away. Standing, I scour the shelves for the source of the rot. “Can I trust your throwing arm right now?”

Annie’s guilt-struck face perks up. “Always partner.”

“On my mark kick this fuckin’ door as hard as you can. There’ll be one cop right here, one waiting outside. The bomb is for the one outside, capiche?”

Annie and Miles both nod, only one seems to like my idea.

Step, step, step- “NOW!” The door swings into the cop, he staggers backward into the countertop in an explosion of sounds.

Annie sprints towards the door and throws the rotten meat into the second cop’s face. We erupt into maniacal laughter while slamming the back door closed behind us.

“Annie, give Miles a boost, quickly!”

As I drop down to the other side Annie interlocks her fingers, then boosts Miles until he can grasp the top, pull himself over and crash onto the grass. I take Miles’s hand and bring him to his feet. Annie makes it halfway up the fence before the cop grabs her ankle, but she holds on tight.

Miles is quick to grab fistfuls of rocks, and we pelt the cop with as many as we can carry. I aim for the eyes but miss and hit Annie a few times, but we have enough good shots to free her. 

The female cop turns the corner, taser in hand. She went through the whole building to get here, but still grimaces with disgust. “Stop!” 

Annie takes a handful herself and pelts the cop with stone after stone until enough distance has been made. Then we drop everything and run like hell.

“Where do we go?” Miles asks. “If they find your truck we’re screwed.”

“I know, we’re gonna lose them in the tunnel,” I answer.

“Is that a joke?” Annie adds.

“It’ll work won’t it?”

“Get back here!” The cop yells from behind the fence under strain. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Miles repeats to my left.

“What, first time getting chased by the cops?” Annie hollers. I risk a short glance around, where one cop is helping the other down from the fence, they’ll be back on us in a matter of seconds.

We make a hard right and continue into darkness. “Looks like the tunnel curves away up ahead. We'll hide for now and figure out a plan.” I try to keep my flaming lungs quiet, though Miles pants like a dog. Annie on the other hand keeps a consistent pace farther in the depths.

Once hidden, I slow to a manageable speed. We haven’t been chased like this in forever, not with the adrenaline pumping this way. Some get their fix from rollercoasters or videogames, for Annie and I this is our high, our taste of freedom in a prison-town. 

Miles catches up on my side. “Do you think they’ll look for us here?”

Making a point to whisper I reply, “Might, if they’ve got reason to look.”

“How the hell did they find us? Do you think we’re actually gonna get arrested?”

I face Miles and place two hands on his shoulders. “We’re gonna be okay, that’s a promise.”

Two seconds of silence, then the unmistakable echo of boots crunching on gravel. Miles presses next to me in terror. 

“Did they go in there?” The female cop pants to her partner. 

“Didn’t see,” the other replies. A few more seconds, Annie clasps a hand across Miles’s mouth to silence his panicked breathing.

“Hey!” The female cop yells. “You kids need to get out of there right now, train’s coming!”

“Just a trick,” I whisper. “I’m not fallin’ for it.”

“For sure,” Annie chimes in. The cop awaits an answer, the partner yawns, “They probably ran off to the woods. If they’re in there they’ll be out soon enough.”

“Or they’ll be dead, Terry.” She snaps at him.

“So?” He laughs.

“Seriously!” She continues, “We aren’t going to arrest you, just get out of there right now.”

Annie chuckles, “Bullshit.”

“Okay, you’re probably right, let’s go,” the cop says.

“Can’t remember a time I was goddamn wrong,” his voice fades. The three of us blow sighs of relief.

The elation of safety is short-lived though when the train blares it’s horn. “You’re fuckin’ kidding.” I mumble, scraping through gravel in a sprint, Miles close behind. But just like before, there are only two pairs of feet running.

So we both stop and face her, “Annie, we gotta go damnit!” But she doesn’t move an inch. It’s a miracle she hasn’t gotten killed doing this yet.

“Miles, get out, I’ll grab her.” But it’s clear he isn’t leaving without us. “Annie move!” I continue. But she remains transfixed on the train’s bright light approaching from the distance. There must be time to escape, but the window is closing fast. There’s no time for this, I yank her arm and make a break for it.

The deafening screech of metal on metal echoes through the tunnel, the headlight grows brighter, the window closes. We’ve lost our chance and we’re out of options. I throw an arm onto Miles and Annie’s chests and hold them tight against the wall, while becoming as flat as possible. The train launches past only a few inches from the tip of my nose. The overwhelming sounds, the blinding light and gust of wind threaten to throw me off balance. Miles’s eyes are pinched shut and he shivers with fear.

But at least he isn’t thinking about Mateo. 

Over all the noise Annie’s laughter slowly builds in a mad crescendo, and despite my frustrations I can’t help but join her. Five to ten minutes later the final car flashes by and leaves us in silence. 

Before it seems weird I let go of Miles’s chest and he takes a knee in the dirt, calming himself with controlled breaths.

Annie on the other hand practically explodes with laughter. “That was insane.”

“Don’t think I’m gonna forget you almost gettin’ us killed again. I thought your freezin’ situation was taken care of?”

Annie’s smiles suddenly dissolves, her tone fallen serious, “So did I.” She looks past me to Miles. “You okay?” She crouches to eye level. 

“Yeah…” He pants. ”I need a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute,” I say, holding the laptop in front of me. “We need to get the hell out of here before those cops come back”

Annie grabs Miles’s arm and helps him off the ground. But as we leave Miles continuously glances backward into the dark depths. Whenever he does I make sure to check myself, but I hardly find a thing. Maybe a small flash of light, but it’s too difficult to focus through those horrible creaks.

[troglobite]

aldkjfalsd

paying more than mortgage costs for an airbnb house that

was not even remotely cleaned upon arrival (MULTIPLE sticky handprints on every surface in the kitchen, dirt IN THE REFRIGERATOR, muddy footprints, carpets & rugs so filthy that we HAVE to wear our slippers & give up on mopping the floors because they get dirty IMMEDIATELY, hair [human and pet, head and pube] on all the sheets and in every corner that has never seen a broom or vacuum, unidentifiable liquids and stains on every door [bedroom and bathroom] and the sheets & comforters)

was clearly not built to code bc it's worse than a 40s house but was built in the 70s (the stairs are definitely not to code and walking through the house quickly is like walking on the deck of a boat out at sea)

was advertised w central air but that was a lie and it only has tiny wall heaters in most rooms and 1 space air conditioner in 1 room

has a window that is so poorly fitted that the worlds largest creatures can come through it and give me a panic attack and nightmares for a week or more, and we had to physically tape it up ourselves

has a fridge that needs a water filter

has multiple smoke & CO alarms that are malfunctioning and/or need batteries

advertised lots of closet space but upon hanging 7 shirts on the ramshackle, not to code, pathetically cobbled together "hanger" in the only closet that won't leave the clothes dragging on the floor, collapsed completely and was unusable (unsurprisingly given the WOOD ITSELF WAS WARPED FROM THE WEIGHT OF *PILLOWS*)

has an UNBEARABLE mold and mildew stench IN THE MAIN BEDROOM ON THE FIRST FLOOR and what looks like a MOLD STAIN ON THE CEILING which is BENEATH THE UPSTAIRS SHOWER

has no batteries, lightbulbs, screwdrivers, garbage bags, or anything else remotely useful in the house for us to use (the vacuum is old as fuck, dusty, busted, and has hair EVERYWHERE, and the broom is literally duct taped together)

the upstairs bathroom toilet is like an escape room or physical/gymnastics challenge to get in and out of

one of the single-room wall heaters is literally BROKEN--turning it all the way down means it cranks and stays on forever, turning it all the way up temporarily turns it off, and it only stays off consistently if set at some middle temperature, but even then it'll still turn on unbidden--and there is no on/off switch

the furniture is nigh unsittable bc it is so cobbled together and uncomfortable

the chairs are basically unusable from how small and uncomfortable they are

the mattress are MISERABLE bc they have the world's FIRMEST MEMORY FOAM on ALL of them

THERE ARE NO CURTAINS ON ANY OF THE FUCKING WINDOWS AND ONLY THREE OF THE WINDOWS HAVE BLINDS. ONLY THREE!!!! THERE ARE ELEVEN OTHER WINDOWS IN THE HOUSE!!!!!!

everything outside is overgrown and in need of maintenance and care and is therefore unusable (there are just random dogtoys in places--inside AND outside)

there's just a used candle. sitting behind the tv.

the tv is TRASH and the volume is the WORST i've ever heard. we've trying fixing it REPEATEDLY. it ALSO is impossible to consistently get HDMI to connect to it/my laptop. i have to unplug and replug it multiple times.

the laundry room REEKS OF MOLD/MILDEW. it's also more of a closet. we have to have the fan on 24/7.

you cannot open the blinds on the 3 windows that have them. they removed the pulleys that allowed you to do that because "it was a pain/difficult to lower them back down" so they just REMOVED THAT OPTION.

the "guide book" for the home is CLEARLY outdated because it HAS THE WRONG INFORMATION FOR HOW TO GET IN THE HOUSE AND UNLOCK/LOCK THE FUCKING DOOR.

and we've only been here since last weds.

i'm wearing an n95 mask sitting in this bedroom because with my HEPA filter going, the room's wall heater turned off (bc that shit looks rank), and febreze odor eliminator sprayed REPEATEDLY in here after dousing the room in lysol upon arrival, the smell of mold is hurting my fucking lungs.

i literally want to strangle the ppl who think this home is in ANY WAY remotely fucking livable--and also, REMOTELY WORTH THE HELLISH AMOUNT OF MONEY WE HAD TO SPEND ON IT.

[velvetcloxds]

IT’S POETIC| D.H.

Pairing: Derek x Reader

Warnings: none that I can think off, reader gets bit so there's blood

Summary: Reader is fighting with Scott and Stiles after Scott bit her by accident and in the panic of the situation the reader goes to Derek's loft for help.

"Call Derek!" I shout looking down at my stomach. Feeling the warm liquid drench the shirt in my grip. I look up to see Stiles and Scott staring at me bewildered. "Call him!" I repeat with the same urgency.

"We don't need him. We can handle this on our own." Scott replies carefully.

"Really, Scott? Can you really?" I step forward and Scott steps back as soon as I do. "You bloody bit me!" I yell angrily lifting my shirt to reveal the remnants of the bite-marks.

"Not on purpose!" He shouts back, lifting his hands up in defense as Stiles just looks out of the window, amusement in his eyes as he conceals a guilty smile.

"That seems to be a recurring issue for you, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, well we didn't call him last time either." Scott replies with a shrug as he looks to Stiles who simply shakes his head.

"Yeah and that went marvelously well," Stiles chimes in, catching my eye as he walks towards me. He bends down to look at the wound and looks away immediately. "Maybe she's right." He mumbles while covering his mouth to force down a gag.

"I can't call him in for a favour in the middle of the night, what if we wait until tomorrow and I can take you to see Deaton?" He questions, although the stern look in my eyes leaves no need for reply. "Y/n..." He groans pulling a hand through his hair.

"What? Am I being difficult Scott? Am I being a bit dramatic over the fact that you accidentally made a decision that could change my entire life?" I demand bitterly and I see Scott hover as he searches for an answer. I sigh grabbing my jacket and pulling it over my shoulders to hide the blood before turning to face the boys. "Screw it, I'll go to him myself." I push passed them and ignore their objecting opinions as I rush out of the house and into my car.

The ride to the loft seemed to take forever as my mind spun in a continues circle, trying desperately to come to terms with what just happened. Not that it would come easy at all. I only found out about all of this a few months ago and now I'm being thrown into this world head first with no clue how to land on my feet. There was no part of me that ever for one second liked the idea of being a werewolf, partly because the second you get the bite you step onto a permanent battlefield. And realistically speaking I wasn't ready for any of it. I'm not willingly going to put myself in endless danger in order to protect everyone and the sharp pain settling in my stomach won't change that.

I pull the jacket tighter around my body forcing the sides together with one hand while the other furiously bangs against the metal door. "Derek!" I shout stopping the knocking briefly before continuing when there's no reply. "Derek!" I repeat with less volume and more desperation as I see blood staining my jacket as well. I pull away from the door and throw the jacket to the ground to push pressure onto the wound. My hands digging against the ripped flesh without any results, but I force down even harder, needing to catch my breath as the pain deepens.

"Y/n?" A voice asks and I look up to see the door wide open with a confused Derek looking at me.

"It won't stop bleeding," I comment quickly, looking down at my hands. "It won't stop-" I feel my hands start shaking and it only makes me try harder to keep them still. "It won't stop bleeding." I repeat and I hear his feet shuffle towards me before his own hands come into view, covering mine to take them off of my stomach.

"Breathe," He whispers as my hands drop to my sides. I do as I'm told, focusing on inhaling slowly to let the sudden urge of panic fade. "What happened?" He asks when I finally look up at him.

"Scott." I reply dryly, shakily lifting the shirt to reveal the settling marks of teeth. He nods quickly before turning to walk into the loft and I follow him eagerly. My hands slip over the red button to rearm the alarm before I sit down on his bed.

"Take off your shirt," He demands and I hover momentarily before he kneels down in front of me with a new shirt and a bunch of towels in his arms. "It'll heal eventually, but we need to clean you up." I nod slowly before briskly bringing the shirt over my head.

His actions are delicate as he silently clears the blood from the wound, lightly pushing onto the surface of my skin to soak up most of the dampness. He does this for a while until the bleeding finally stops, leaving nothing but a fresh wound in view. His fingers move over the spot slowly, stopping only when our eyes meet.

"It's healing," I state lifting my hand to his, feeling the muscles tighten when our fingers brush against each other. I scoff softly. "I can feel it." He simply nods before leaning forward to help me pull one of his shirts on and a sense of familiarity fills my mind as the scent surrounds me.

I allow the strange comfort to embrace me for a brief moment before I feel the bed tilt beside me. He sits down quietly, leaving a small amount of space between us as our shoulders timidly rest against each other.

"You're going to be okay." He says suddenly, surprising me.

"Depends on your version of okay." I retort and I bite down at my lip to hide the bitterness begging to escape pass them.

"You're not dying," He turns to me and an unexpected urgency sparkles in his eyes as he looks at me. "You could be dying and you're not. You're going to be okay." I turn my body against his, folding my legs under me as I move onto the bed more.

"But I'll be like you. I don't want to be like you." I say softly and he turns his body as well.

"Well I won't be like that for much longer." He whispers and I watch him close his eyes, opening them to reveal pools of gold sparkling in the darkness a clear contrast to the drowning sapphire they used to be. A small gasp leaves my lips at the sight and my mind screams with thousands of questions. But instead of asking any of them I reach up to his face allowing my fingers to faintly hover above his eyelashes.

"What does this mean?" I question in a hushed tone keeping my hand still only for him to nimbly take hold of my wrist restraining me while also sinking both out arms to his lap.

"Alone it could mean nothing. But paired with the loss of my sense of smell, the human like healing and the inability to shift completely..."

"You're losing your powers," I complete and he nods. Guilt rushes into my heart as soon as the realization sets in. Here I was making a big scene because I've been forced to become a werewolf all while Derek is losing something that's been part of him for his entire life. "Derek..."

"You didn't know."

"What will happen if you lose it. Will you be a human?"

"Or I'll be dead," He states bluntly and I inhale sharply at the lack of emotion to which he looks at me. His hand slips from my wrist to my palm and I soon feel his fingers tangling with mine. "Why did you come here, Y/n? Scott's been through this before, he knows what to do."

"I don't know," I answer honestly my eyes remaining focused on our entwined hands. "Maybe a part me just knew I could trust you," I trail my gaze to meet his. "Maybe part of me knew you shouldn't be alone."

"You barely know me. "

"But I'm here and you're here," I bring my other hand up to his chest feeling the slow movement of his breathing. "And neither of us needs to be alone. It's almost poetic." I comment willing my heart to settle as he leans forward in a subtly movement.

"Like death..." He adds and a smile plays with his lips when he looks over at me. His fingers abandon mine and in a rapid gesture I'm pulled onto his lap with my body pressed against his.

"Like kissing." I add feeling the hand on my back securing me in a soft yet strong hold. My breathing quickens as a respond to his touch but also slows as soon as I feel his lips connecting with mine. A rush of electricity spins into my body creating a trail of cold shivers along my spine. I grasp onto his shoulders when his lips leave mine and he watches with a smirk as a shade of rose tints my cheeks.

"Like your lips," He comments using his other hand to turn my head back towards him looking up at me due to my position. "I'm glad you came here." His fingers trace over my lips gently before he slowly guides me back onto the bed adding a good amount of distance between us with emits a groan from me due to the sudden coldness filling my body.

A steady smirk remains on his lips while he grabs a pillow and a blanket from the bed before getting up and walking over to the couch where he settles himself with ease.

"No more poetry?" I question pulling my legs against my chest.

"Maybe tomorrow," He states quickly glancing down at my stomach before locking eyes with me. "Definitely tomorrow."

I nod to myself, understanding what he means and suddenly the fear from earlier streams back into my mind reminding me why I'm here in the first place. But at the same time a new unfamiliar ease fills my heart. I crawl to the top of the bed pulling the blanket over my legs as my head sinks into the pillow, the same sweet scent surrounding me.

"Derek?" I question and he hums in reply. "I think you're going to be okay too." He laughs softly making me smile slightly before I close my eyes.

Hi there, more of my work can be found on Wattpad under @mjoubertt. Mxx.

Masterlist

[winterscaptain]

pretty/drunk

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this doesn’t have any gendered pronouns, but some of the content was fairly fem-coded and i didn’t want anyone to experience anything triggering/unpleasant, so i tagged it fem. all my gals, gays, hes, and theys can be pretty and wear fancy underwear!! (i can always adapt a super super gender neutral version if anyone wants it! or hell, even male-coded. we’re inclusive in this house!) also my smut taglist is...not updated. yikes.

words: 2.5k warnings: alcohol use, drunk!aaron, smut (oral w/reader receiving, penetrative sex, creampie)

summary: “compliments cost nothing, yet many pay dear for them.” - thomas fuller

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

“You’re so pretty,” Aaron says, his words only slurring a little. He’s followed you into the bathroom at Will and JJ’s like a lost puppy and can’t keep his hands to himself. 

You laugh, pulling his arms further around you. “Aaron, honey, you’re really drunk.”

His brow crinkles. You can see it in the mirror. “Do I… not tell you you’re pretty when I’m not drunk? Because I should do that.”

“No,” you assure him with a pat to the back of his hand. “You do, but you have less of an agenda when you’re sober.”

He laughs in that delightful little way he does when he’s drunk and he knows he’s been caught. “That’s not true. I always have an agenda.”

As if to make his point, his mouth drops to your neck, finding that spot that makes you sigh. You can feel your heartbeat in your bits at this point, but you won’t give him the satisfaction. 

You turn, holding his face in your hands. His eyes are only a little glassy - he’s playing it up because he knows it makes you laugh. “You’re not very subtle, sweetheart.”

“But you’re so pretty,” he grumbles, tucking his face into your neck again. 

“Okay, love. Let’s go. C’mon.”

You eventually get him back down the hallway and into the living room. 

Emily smirks at you, but you only roll your eyes and shake your head. 

Don’t be ridiculous. 

She shrugs. Not the first time it woulda happened. 

Fair point, your eyebrows say. She laughs. 

Jack’s running soccer drills with Henry in the backyard - still full of energy despite the ridiculously late hour - and JJ’s offered to have the boys over at her place tonight. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Pfft, absolutely. What’s one more? Jack’s easy.” 

You laugh lightly. “Can’t argue with that.” 

“And,” she adds, “I figure you guys could use the night. You know, sober up and stuff.” 

Squinting at her, you say, “I’m not drinking tonight.” 

“Just sayin’.”

With a roll of your eyes, you take Aaron by the elbow and lead him out the door and into the car. He’s terribly floppy when he’s just passed buzzed, but you know he’d never get drunk enough to actually make you babysit him. 

He’d explained it to you once. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not in my twenties anymore so wicked hangovers are an inevitability. And it’s inconsiderate.” 

+++

He’s particularly handsy as you walk up to the apartment, impeding your forward momentum as he drags you back against him, grinding playfully against you at every opportunity. 

“Aaron, quit!” You whisper-shout at him, mindful of your neighbors. It’s much later than your usual arrival time and you’re actually aware of the sleepy nature of the suburban apartment complex on a Saturday night. 

You finally let yourself into the apartment and lock the door behind you, setting the alarm as soon as you take your shoes off. 

Aaron’s leisure is apparent - he’s taking his time with his winter trappings (though you’re pretty sure he’d trip if he went at his normal pace). You watch him methodically place his shoes into the rack and hang his coat, brushing imagined debris off the sleeve. 

When he’s done, he turns back to you with a look he might think is smooth. Really, he just looks rather undone. 

Delightfully undone. 

You sigh and cross the room, pulling his lips to yours and winding your fingers in his hair. He moans into your mouth and you’re violently reminded of the other perk of an inebriated Aaron: while already vocal, his lowered inhibitions increase his volume in… almost every situation. 

“Come to bed, baby,” you whisper against him. 

You can feel his smile. “Okay.” 

Taking him by the hand, you drag him to your bedroom and close the door behind you out of habit. 

He presses you against the wall, his hands wandering down your ribs, your hips, your ass, up your shirt as his searing kisses poke holes in your desire to sleep. 

You pull back, your head against the wall. “I have something for you. Wanna see?” 

His eyes are firmly stuck on your mouth, but he nods. 

“Wait for me. I’ll be right back.” 

With a wolfish grin, he steps back (carefully) and starts to undo his belt buckle. As nice a visual as that is, you know you have a limited window before he crashes. 

Drunk Aaron often means Sleepy Aaron. If your estimation is right - you have about ten minutes. 

Slipping into the bathroom, you dig around in your side of the cabinet until you find the little bag you’ve been hiding. It’s lingerie you bought last year on his birthday, but hadn’t had the occasion to show him - between cases and Jack, there was never an opportune time. 

You change somewhat leisurely, giving yourself the time to get really worked up, thinking about the way Aaron’s hands and mouth feel on every square inch of your skin. When you’re well and truly warm, you open the door -

And find Aaron completely zonked, naked, halfway-under the turned-down covers. 

Looks like it was more like five minutes. 

You can’t help but smile at the sight. He’s adorable with his face all squished into the pillow, curled toward your side of the bed. 

You strip, leaving the treats back under the cabinet, and slip under the covers wearing nothing at all. 

+++

You’re sure you’re having the best sex dream of your life. Getting all worked up before bed often had its own consequences, but you find yourself waking before you can really grab onto the feeling. 

A bit frustrated, you rouse yourself and realize Aaron grinding against you isn’t part of your dream. You reach back, tangling your fingers in his hair - not enough to pull, but enough to let him know you’re awake. 

“Aaron?” 

“Hmm?” 

You let out a shaky breath and arch your back, sending your ass right into him. He groans and you feel his hand wander from your abdomen to your center, aching and soaked all the way to your thighs. 

His talented fingers wander over your heated skin, circling your clit and dipping into you but not enough. You wiggle against him impatiently, but he shushes you, laving your neck and shoulder with languid, wet kisses that leave you squirming. 

Your eyes flutter shut as he ducks under the covers, his kisses traveling down the curve of your spine, to your waist. You squeak when his teeth sink into the soft skin above your hip, immediately soothed with his tongue. Letting him lead, you wait until his fingers wrap around your knee before you swing your leg over his head. 

His pleased hum is audible and it sends a shiver down your spine. 

Your heel slides up his shoulder in your attempt to get him where you want him, but you can feel the muscles of his back ripple as he resists you, pillowing his head on your thigh. 

Aaron presses kisses to the crease of your thigh until you’re well and truly squirming. 

He lets out a drawn-out moan as his tongue makes contact with your slit and you swear he drinks from you before sloppily licking and mouthing his way to your clit, rolling the little nub on his tongue. 

“Perfect,” he whispers against you, wrapping his lips around you and sucking for a moment before taking one long pass from stem to stern with the flat of his tongue. 

You whimper, pressing the back of one hand to your mouth while the other tangles in his hair, holding him in place. 

He lifts, even against the pressure of your hand, and looks up at you, his nose, mouth, and chin glistening in the low light. “Nobody’s home, baby.” He drops a kiss to your clit. “Let me hear you.” 

You keep your eyes on his as he positively devours you. After what seems like forever, he drops his gaze, giving you a breathtaking view of his long eyelashes resting against his cheekbone. 

His arms slide over your lower back, wrapping around you to hold you steady as he rocks his face into you. It’s sloppy, loud, and immaculate. 

Closing your eyes and relaxing everything you can, you focus entirely on the sensation of his tongue against your clit, the way the whole lower half of his face burrows as far into you as he can get, ever seeking something more, somewhere closer. 

Your walls flutter on their own, pushed to the brink by his ministrations. Your hips buck a little and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in a huff. 

“Fuck, Aaron. You’re so good.” 

“Mhmm.” His hum doesn’t leave your skin, but he still sounds way too full of himself. When you yank on his hair in light admonishment for his own self-awareness, he lets out another groan from deep in his chest. 

It rumbles through you, all the way to your bones. You can’t help but shudder again and his arms tighten around you.  

You can feel his muscles pull and flex under your calf as he chases friction, grinding into the sheets. His expression belies none of it - there’s not a grain of tension in his forehead, his eyebrows sit relaxed when they’re not pulled together in surprise or pleasure. 

One of his arms slides out from under you, running his fingers over your thigh before lifting his mouth from you. He wets his fingers, pulling them slowly from his lips and dropping them to tease your entrance. 

He raises his eyebrows expectantly, meeting your eyes. 

You give in. 

“Please.” 

With a smirk, he runs his fingers from your bundle of nerves to your slit, slipping them inside you with unbearable lack of haste. You wiggle against him and he relents, diving back into you with more than enthusiasm. 

Your voice is somewhere between a gasp and a whine. “Aaron, you’re gonna make me come.” You twist, but his arms hold you fast as you curl into your pillow. 

He doesn’t falter for a second, going down on you like it’s his favorite thing to do (it is, actually) until you’re overcome, shaking and overwrought with pleasure. His gentle guidance through your peak only prolongs it, sweetening the pleasure until it hums through your body. 

Finding his way back to you, he takes the same route he took on his way down, kissing his way to your knee, taking your leg back over his head, and wandering up your back with his lips and tongue. 

He settles behind you again and wraps you in his arms, pressing kisses to your neck. 

You turn your head and he meets your lips with his own. It’s an awkward angle, sure, but sex by definition is awkward - what’s one more element? 

You kiss the taste of yourself off of him, his little pleased noises only egging you on. Impatiently, you reach behind you and wrap your hand around his cock, stroking just the way he likes it (with a twist of your wrist at the tip) until he stops you with a hand over yours. 

“Either I come inside you or not at all.” 

With a little laugh, you release him. “By all means, darling. Be my guest.” 

Aaron’s got a stupid little smile on his face you can only see half of, but you make it clear you have no intention of moving, arching your back again to give him more access. 

Positioning himself between your thighs, he runs his cock over your heated flesh, between your lips, still sensitive from your orgasm. You relax into him with a shaky exhale, rocking back and seeking friction. 

His breath is hot at your ear as he eases into you, the angle from this position new and tight. You move with him, meeting him inch for inch as he slowly gives you more and more with each thrust. 

He brings his hand to your waist and you can feel him trembling. You bring your knees closer to your chest and he shifts so the top of his thighs are flush with the back of yours. 

You whimper as he finds that place inside you, and hits it over and over and over with alarming consistency. He’s bottoming out with every thrust and you’re seeing stars. 

The arm underneath him snakes under your pillow and around your shoulders, his fingers splayed over your chest. The arm at your waist sneaks down to your clit and you do him a favor - lifting your knee as close to your shoulder as you can get it. 

He loops his arm around your thigh, holding you open for him, while he drowns his fingers in his handiwork from before. It’s been almost two years and he's mastered that angle on your clit - the one that has you nearly in tears within seconds, gasping little sobs leaving you as you’re once again pushed to the breaking point. 

“Harder,” you tell him. “More.” 

His lips glued to the slope between your neck and shoulder, he pounds into you faster, harder, the sound of his hips snapping to yours filling the bedroom. 

Your orgasm crests over you all at once and you can’t even thrash as your vision whites out and your legs violently shake - his hold on you is tight and all-consuming. He well-and-truly fucks you, chasing his pleasure while riding you through yours. 

He gasps and you know he’s close. You bring your hand behind you to his hair again and hold him to you, the softness of his ungelled hair grounding you as the rest of your body continues to alight with sensation. 

“Fuck, I’m -” His brief warning is rough, breathless, and relentlessly hot. You look in front of you, seemingly for the first time, and realize your mirrored closet doors are right there. 

Your mouth drops open as you watch Aaron drive into you, deep, and unlatch from your neck, his eyes squeezing shut and mouth open, a groan leaving him. You can feel him inside you, warm and full, as he releases, his hips barely leaving yours as he shallowly ruts into you. 

You can’t tear your eyes from his reflection. He’s beautiful - perfectly undone and entirely blissed out. You clench and flex, milking everything you can from him until his body seems to melt into yours, the tension drawing out of his fingers, arms, then finally his brow. 

He hooks his chin over your shoulder, laying his cheek against yours. A low hum leaves him and a content smile curls at his lips. 

Yours matches, and you lace your fingers through his, pulling his arms tighter around you. “Did you tick off all your agenda items?” 

His eyes remain close as he answers with a little nod. “Mhmm.” 

“Are you still a little drunk?” 

“Hmm…” He actually thinks about his answer for a second. “Only a little. Mostly wanted to make you laugh.” 

You’ll have to go clean up eventually, but he snuggles impossibly closer, still inside you as he softens, and kisses your cheek, sweet and chaste. 

“You’re so pretty.”

tagging:  @quillvine @stxrrywildflower @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pinkdiamond1016 @aaronhotchnerr @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @ssa-morgan @violet-amxthyst @capricorngf @pan-pride-12 @mandylove1000 @joanofarkansass  @cevanswhre @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @mandylove1000 @jeor @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @winqhster @the-falling-in-the-danger @iconicc @mangoberry43 @crazyshannonigans @ceceguajardo-blog @deagibs

[suicidalslasher]

forever & always. ➤ tom. h.

Happy Valentine’s Day~!!! I couldn’t contain myself and or stop myself from writing about my favorite Valentine’s day killer. So, here you go :)

WARNING: descriptions of gore and blood. in this one-shot, the reader’s pronouns are she&her.  i might make a part two of this, depending on how well it does. maybe not. i like how it ends, regardless. either way. enjoy.

The news spread like wildfire. No matter which way you went, there was always a flame, reaching out towards those to burn. Try as you may, you can't get away. The words that littered the air was nothing more than burnt ashes fluttering around, burning each object as it flies above said thing or said person. In this case, the people of a small town called Valentine Bluffs were the ones burning from the inside and out. They felt trapped within the smoke, unable to seek out which way to escape the dangers that had followed.   The terror; the trauma; the panic and anxiety attacks; All of it - they thought it was long gone.... they were finally going back to being normal, how things used to be. 

They were going back to a life that wasn't full of fear, having to look behind your shoulder constantly and being careful of who you trust. It was all going to be okay, happy once more. They'd finally be able to celebrate their favorite day once again.  But... as you may have guessed, it's not quite  easy to put out a rapid wildfire. All it takes is a small fire to expand out into something bigger, bolder, and scarier. You can't escape the flames. No matter how big or small. You cannot ignore the overwhelming burning sensation that  glazes across your skin as the fire around you grows larger, making you feel smaller and smaller by the second.  The words, however, the statement that was fluttering around like specks of ash,  wasn't at all a sentence (nor an actual fire)  but a name - Harry Warden.  1997. Valentine's day. Everybody, in & out of town, knows what happened.  For a brief period of time there, nobody celebrated Valentine's day, having thought it out to be cursed.  Yet, as time went on, there was no sign of Harry Warden. No copy cat killer version of him, neither. So, the people went back to celebrating. Writing hand written love letters,  buying cheaply made cards at the local supermarket, buying and or receiving overly priced chocolates. Anything, everything, people did it with  love in their hearts and a smile on their face.  Today was Valentine's Day, once more. Expect it wasn't the way it had been for the past 9 years. It was exactly like the day in 1997. History was repeating itself.  Instead of love, presents, and reserved dinner dates being celebrated and shared, the town of Valentine Bluffs  got decomposed, rotting corpses,  instead. Blood scattered outside and inside of buildings. 

  It was worse than before, more bodies were showing up without their hearts and the missing body piece would be found neatly placed in between a plastic heart shaped box. All of which would be sent to the police station as a joke, as  a threat.  Even a card would be taped on top or under the container, though the sentences were far from cheerful and loveable.  A few of them had been thrown aside, only having been read once. Those who opened it and read it aloud usually found themselves cringing in dismay  as they read the paragraph out loud all while  shifting around in their seat, uncomfortably.  

Once they read it, they shook their heads as tears welled up in their eyes before they threw it into the trash bin or ripped it into hundreds of tiny pieces, not daring to open another letter that's brought in. Evidence or not, the workers couldn't keep their breakfast or lunch down when they'd read the cards.  The recent two cards had said;  From the heart comes a warning, filled with bloody good cheer, remember what happened as the 14th draws near!  And the last victim, a girl named Maryanne Anderson, had gotten a card right before she was found dead, her body laying in a ditch to rot.  Her card had read; Roses are red, violets are blue, one is dead, and so are you.  Nobody knew who the new killer was, or if it even was a new killer, copying Harry's schemes and following in his footsteps.  It could have very well been  the same man all those years ago. That's what they were saying.   (Y/N) (L/N) was in her car, driving back home from work when her favorite song had been replaced with an alarm, cutting off her favorite part. "Oh, c'mon!" She groaned, hands hitting the steering wheel in annoyance  before she goes to turn up the volume anyways, wondering what's so important that the town and the police station had to turn off her favorite song. 

She knew about the murders, she knew there was a serial killer around, she already knew this already. And yes, she was petrified, as most people were. When the first body showed up, the mayor of town announced there'd be a curfew until they found out who is doing all of this. Whether it was one person or more, they'd find a way to capture the killer. No matter what. There was not going to be another murder.

 (Of course, there was more.) 

 (The original curfew was getting home at 9:30. Now, it had gone down and you'd have to be indoors, at your house, by 6:30 PM.)  Students in school would get out earlier, as well as the adults in town. The only ones who didn't get to go home so early in the day were those who were trying to protect the people of Valentine Bluffs.  "We are sorry to interrupt that song there," came the  radio host's deep and groggy voice. "However, this is more important than your favorite throwback jams. I've gotten an officer here with me, he had just shown up not even a second ago to tell us more news on the situation we are currently in. So, please, listen carefully."  "Yeah, whatever. I already know what's going on. Tell me something I don't know." (Y/N)  turns off the radio as she pulls up in her driveway, feeling a sense of comfort clouding over her, another day, she's okay; safe and sound, unlike a few of her old high school friends that were gutted like fish and butchered like pigs. 

She shivers at both the bitter and harsh wind brushing against her  as she steps out of her vehicle and the obvious visual of whatever masked man (or men) that's around, killing innocent people for whatever given reason.  Hurrying along the steps to her porch, she digs her keys out of her jacket pocket, finding them within seconds before she's pushing them into the door as quickly as she could. She didn't show it, tried not to show it, but she was as anxious and paranoid as everyone else was. 

(Y/N) was  trying to hold back her fear but the moment she gets home, locking all the doors and windows, the uneasy feelings creep up on her and every negative emotion takes charge.     With a sigh, she falls down onto the couch with a plop, reaching for the remote, she turns on the TV, attempting to try and get her mind off of things.  Of course, every station wasn't what she wanted to watch, the news replacing every channel.  She skipped and skipped but it all remained the exact same. With a groan, she decides to listen to what they were saying, even though she really didn't want to hear it as it'd only make her anxiety worse.  "I am Jonathan Godfrey. We're sorry to interrupt your daily scheduled programs, however, a man you may know as Tom Hanniger has escaped from his stay from a mental hospital."  (Y/N)'s eyes nearly budge out of her head at the mention of the man's name,  the remote she had in the palm of her hand goes flying, falling down onto the ground by her feet. Tom? Mental hospital? It didn't make any sense! Everyone... including her, thought he was dead! She, with shaky fingers, grabs the remote to turn the volume up.   Jonathan's own eyes were wide as he read the teleprompter, his voice now grew shaky as he spoke. Fear was written across both his and his co-worker’s face. "Unfortunately, we don't have any more information or news as to where he's escaped off to. Or where he may be as of the moment. All the reports, every last piece of information we have been received  has said he's been missing since two days ago.  He can be anywhere.  More importantly, he can be here, hiding out." His voice trembled as he spoke, it was also very faint - almost ghostly. Quiet as a mouse. His skin was pale, making it appear as if he was a ghost rather than a living person that sat in the chair there.  

 Jonathan couldn't continue, this much was obvious, therefore his co-host, Abigail Miller, continued where he had left off.    "This being said, please, lock the doors and windows of your home. If you have a weapon to guard your own life and protect your ground, get it out now. Please, protect yourself the very best you can. And do not, I repeat, do not answer the door. Do not leave your home whatsoever. Whatever is outside of your house is surely not more important than your life.  

“Whether it is Tom that has been doing this or not, we're not exactly sure. All we tell you is to be careful and remain indoors until we can find Tom and or find the Valentine's killer. This has been Jonathan Godfrey and Abigail Miller, with the news. Stay safe and God bless." The program that was previously playing showed up finally, the neon colors swirling together to form the title of the show, along with a fairly way too cheerful theme song playing faintly in the distance as the introduction played out. (Y/N) had never heard of it before, but from a quick glance, it appeared to be a sitcom from the late 70's.  The only source of light was coming from the television screen, casting colorful shadows across (Y/N)'s face. She had felt too tired to have turned on the lights upon entering her house. Work was short, the hours having grown thinner because of the curfew, however, it was still tiring all the same.  She instantly regretted not doing so now, however. 

She sat in the dark, her heart thumping loudly against her chest as she pulled a near by blanket around her shoulders as if the thick fabric would comfort her and protect her. The room had gotten colder ever since the report was announced. Goosebumps ran up and down (Y/N)'s body, the baby hairs on her neck stood on end as a shiver slid up and down her spine. Despite the blanket being around her body, she felt nothing but cold, numb. Suddenly, the TV went out with a soft 'ping'.    (Y/N) gasped and her heart stopped beating all together.  She felt like she couldn't breathe, she couldn't tell if she was going crazy either when she heard what sounded like  footsteps coming down from the hallway. She sat, frozen, on her couch, unable to move, unable to breathe.  Then.... a knock. Followed by another and another. It was right outside, coming from not the front entrance but the back yard. "(Y/N)? (Y/N), please..." came the voice.  ​​​​​​​And (Y/N) recognized that voice anywhere.  She knows she shouldn't.... everybody said not to but... she couldn't help herself.  Getting up as quickly as she could, she runs down the hallway, the sounds of her feet echoing against the thin walls as she reaches the door, tugging it open.   There, on the other half of the door, stood nobody other than Tom Hanniger himself.   He looked up, surprised she had answered the door.  Giving her a weak, lopsided smile,  Tom's pulling her into a tight hug, his head falling down in the crook between her shoulder and neck, tears flooding his eyes as he soaks her shirt, silently weeping. "(Y/N).... fuck, I've missed you so much, missed you so bad." Tom confesses with a sniffle.  "Tom... I- what're you doing here? They're looking for you, you know this, right? Everybody's looking for you. And.... and I- fuck, Tom! I thought you were dead. Everybody in town thought you died the day your father did." (Y/N) didn't hesitate to hide her true feelings. She was a mixture of emotions. Angry, happy, sad, scared - she was feeling every single emotion there possibly was. "I know... I know. I-I have a lot to explain and a lot to tell you but please, right now, can we just- can we just play pretend?" He asked, moving away from her shoulder as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweater, his eyes remained watery and his skin was flushed as he looked up at (Y/N).  (Y/N) guessed it was a mixture of three things - running away from the mental hospital to where her house was to  the bitter and harsh February air. Plus, the crying he had just done, too. His face was red and blotchy from all three. Despite it being so cold, sweat trickled his face, a few drips of it falling along side his cheeks. "Play pretend?" (Y/N) echoed, tilting her head to the side, unsure of what he meant.  "Let's play pretend." He repeated, licking his lips. "Let's play pretend and imagine none of this horrid, crazed shit is going on right now. Let's pretend it's only me and you. It's Valentine's day, isn't it? Let's celebrate. After all, it was one of our favorite days to spend together."  Heat rose to (Y/N)'s cheeks and she bit on her bottom lip, rocking back and forth on the bottom of her feet.  "Tom.... I-I'm...You want-" She couldn't from sentences, her thoughts were mushing together and it was all too much for her to handle. She felt like she was going to pass out. "I want you, (Y/N). I want you as bad as I did then and I want you just as badly right  now. There has never been a day where I wasn't thinking about you. You were the love of my life. I still love you, maybe even more, now. Let's celebrate, please. We can talk about everything tomorrow morning. I promise I'll tell you everything.  Right now, let's play pretend, let's act like it's just us again, like when we were teens.... I've missed you. And.... and I know you've missed me too or else you wouldn't have opened the door." And, yeah, okay, he was right.  "Tom..."  "(Y/N)." He stepped closer to her, closer than he had done before, as he rests his hand against her cheek, fingers brushing against her skin as he looked into her (E/C) eyes.  "I love you. I never stopped. And I know you love me, too.... so, please, baby girl.... can I just show you how much I love you?" (Y/N) shouldn't have answered the door. She should have called the cops when she heard his voice. Everything was too much of a  coincidence. 

Her power was working perfectly fine until Tom had shown up. 

Now that she was thinking about it.... 

There was also no victims until she had heard the news Tom had left the asylum. Three days ago.... 

Three days ago, there was the first victim; Maryanne.  If she thought too much about it, got too deep into the rabbit hole, she would have assumed Tom Hanniger was the Valentine's killer - The Miner.  Yet... looking at Tom, she knew he wasn't - couldn't - be the killer. If he was, he would've killed her too, right? Tom Hanniger's been through too much, and just like she was there before, she was going to be there for him now. Through Hell and back.  

She would stay by his side, no matter what. She still kept the old promise ring he had given her in high school, along with the note in which he confessed his feelings. In which, he told her - one day - he'd marry her. She was the perfect girl for him, as he was the perfect man for her.  A promise is a promise. When she said 'forever and always', she meant that. (Y/N) knew Tom meant it, too.  "I love you too."   Tom's quick to place his lips on (Y/N)'s and (Y/N) is quick to kiss him back just as hungry, just as fierce. She tangles  her fingers through her hair and pulls on it, earning a groan from Tom. Satisfied with the result, she tugs him into her house by the sleeve of his shirt, slamming the door shut with her foot. 

"I've missed you, baby." He says, not daring to pull away from the kiss.

"Show me how much you've missed me then, baby." She mumbles against his lips. "Oh, I'm going to."  "Let's go celebrate Valentine's day the right way then. Come on, let's go upstairs."   Tom grins and  (Y/N) smiles back before she's pulling him up the stairs and into her bedroom. 

Forever and Always. It was them until the end. Nobody would ever separate the two of them, again.... not even Harry Warden was going to destroy Tom’s happiness... not this time.

[chaninfused]

Danse Macabre | Lee Minho

◤“One must always polish a heart made of stone. Until one’s fingers hurt, and no more polishing cleavers remain usable. Until one grows tired of the weight of a stone heart.”

In an attempt to win his fiancée’s heart, a prince journeys across the desert, where lifelong secrets come unraveled and nothing is quite what it seems.

◤Disclaimers: Female reader insert. This story is inspired by Arabian mythology. Descriptive images of violence, killing, and blood are included, please be careful. This is fantasy, with a fair mix of fluff and angst. All places and events are fictional and do not reference real life nations. Find a glossary with all the terms used here. Make sure to read this blurb before proceeding to avoid heavy confusion. Also, view the map and the tale of the lost prince of Tajilmalek to gain a better understanding of this universe (optional, but strongly suggested!).

◤Word count: 26.6K

◤Note: This idea is a 100% mine and any case of similarity with someone else’s is purely coincidental. Events are pure fiction. Please do not take my content without my consent. masterlist.

◤Dedicated to my friends and readers. Thank you for bearing with me, I love you all. Happy reading!

١

"Big day tomorrow, eh?"

Minho looked up from the papers strewn over his desk to find his cousin leaning casually on the embellished wall, an unmistakable gleam of mischief bright in his foxlike eyes. He ignored the flutter erupting in his heart, it seemed to make an appearance whenever his wedding was mentioned, and smiled, "Indeed."

"Don't you find it strange?" Jeongin picked himself off the wall and sauntered toward the desk of dark wood when Minho frowned, "What?"

"Jisung was telling me about this earlier," the younger royal started, "Think of it; all Tallilmalekan princesses married to foreign princes bear no children. It's always a second wife or a concubine."

"Where is this conversation heading?" distaste distorted Minho's features. The nobleman's son, Jisung, had a mouth for spreading rumors and speculations. He wasn't sure why Jeongin continued to sit in his presence.

The latter slumped uncharacteristically on one of the desk's adjacent seats, crossing one leg over the other. "Possible conspiracy?" he shrugged. "It's not as though you don't find the family's stiff behavior odd. Apparently, they've always been like that. Cold, stone-faced, and haughty."

Minho rolled his eyes, "And?"

"And," Jeongin's lips stretched into a knowing smile, "there are rumors.

"I mean, how would you explain the reoccurring cases of princesses unable to conceive, or the peculiar, nonchalant behavior of Tallilmalekan royals? Y/n is not the first one to not smile upon her betrothed."

"What are you implying, Jeongin?" the crown prince sighed, having grown tired of the discussion already. His weariness only seemed to amuse his cousin, who lowered his voice and leaned forward as if he had a secret to whisper. "Well, people say that there is only one reasonable explanation."

Perhaps to add suspense, Jeongin paused, making Minho's brow arch questioningly. "Which is?"

"Jinn."

Silence draped over the two like a velvet curtain, heavy, as the word settled into the air. Demons. Jeongin — or Jisung — was accusing you and your family of dealing with demons.

A loud, ebullient laugh had to escape Minho's lips.

"This isn't funny!" Jeongin exclaimed between held back giggles. "Don't come crying to me when your wife turns out to be a Sahira of some sort!"

"I'd be damned then!" Minho cleared his throat after his laughter died out, shaking his head. You were reserved, some would say too reserved, but Jisung was going overboard by bringing Jinn into the picture. "I should ban Han Jisung from entering the palace, right?"

"Maybe." Jeongin scrunched his nose then stood up, regarding the uninteresting mounds of work before his cousin. He was once more reminded to thank the Aliha he wasn't born an heir to the throne.

"Well, I will be leaving you to your work." He clasped his hands and a brotherly smile found home on his lips, "And let me be the first to congratulate you, cousin. I hope this marriage brings you happiness. May the Aliha grant you their blessings."

Minho grinned, giddiness twinkling in his eyes, "Shukran. Will we see you with a ceremony of your own one day?"

"Hopefully not anytime soon," Jeongin joked before bowing his head lightly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Minho gave him an acknowledging nod but before Jeongin could turn and leave the study, the first scream shook the walls of the palace.

“What was that?” Jeongin’s eyes widened as a hand instinctively latched onto the hilt of his saif. Minho sprung from his seat, alarm wrinkling his forehead. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it isn’t good.”

The two royals rushed out of the study, finding several guards running across the corridor and shouting orders to each other. Joining them, Minho asked above the ruckus, “What is happening?”

“Unsure, your highness, but the scream of a monster was heard coming from the Amira’s chamber,” a guard responded, and the prince’s heart dropped. Your rooms. Whatever made that sound, it didn’t promise well.

Rounding a corner, Minho finally spotted the group of guards assigned to your chamber clustered together as one of them knocked on the door repeatedly. He wanted to claw his flesh out. If a beast of some sort had managed to slip into your room, you’d be long dead with these foolish guards waiting for permission to enter. Perhaps it was time to re-examine the royal force.

Sheathing his saif, Minho stormed through the group of men, catching them off guard when he swung the door open and barged in. Manners were to be ignored in a life-threatening situation.

His grip was steady, courtesy of his many years of rigorous sword training, as his gaze fell upon the back of a monster twice his size, red skin glistening in the faint moonlight.

The guards grew silent.

The creature seemed to have the build of a man — two arms, two legs, and a head — but it was far from one. Tied hair as black as the eyes of a gazelle cascaded down its back and a pair of ivory horns poked through its head. That was all Minho could make out from the beast giving him its back.

It stood still, which should’ve raised suspicious brows, but the only thoughts on Minho’s mind were getting rid of the creature and finding you safe and sound.

So, without a second thought, he brought his sword down across the beast’s back, slicing it in half as the nauseating sound of metal cutting through wet flesh filled the room. It made no noise of pain as it toppled to the ground, facedown, splattering blood on its way. It was as if its soul were gone and all the Amir did was tear the body down.

You stood on the other side, unharmed, and Minho’s heart lurched in relief before he noticed the dagger between your bloodied fingers. Concern paired with obvious confusion creased his forehead as he sheathed his saif and stepped around the lifeless body toward you. He could hear the guards’ whispers rise in volume and Jeongin shushing them all. What in the name of the Aliha did I just kill and how did it get here?

“Y/n,” he began, voice taking on a softer tone. Your appearance showed no signs of struggle. The circlet holding the silk that fell over your hair was perfectly placed and you looked...indifferent as you regarded him wordlessly. The fact that a monster was lying on the floor of your bedchamber seemed to bother you none.

Minho was at a loss for words. “What...” his gaze gravitated back to the creature before moving to you. “What just happened?”

•؏•

If Minho arrived a moment earlier, he would’ve seen something that would change the course of your life forever. You were silently bursting with relief, for he couldn’t see the gaping hole where the Ifrit’s heart would’ve been before you clawed it out with a single hand.

The dagger in your grip was still pulsing.

You’d let your fiancé claim the kill for now.

“What just happened?” You could see, behind the mask Minho wore, all his bewilderment. How could you explain this without drawing the entire kingdom’s attention? A lie brewed at the tip of your tongue and you opened your mouth to speak, “It’s-”

You were interrupted by a deep wail that seemed to come from the ground beneath you. It shook the walls, making the guards look around in fear, and your eyes widened. There’s more.

You felt them before they crashed into the room and you dropped the dagger, grabbing Minho’s arm instead and running toward the door. “Watch out!”

The last syllable had barely left your lips when five smaller Afarit broke through the ground, sending debris everywhere and making the guards shout in panic. You forced your way through the chaos. The Afarit must not see you whatsoever. You might’ve been able to take down one on your own, but you weren’t very sure about a group of them.

Fortunately, Minho sensed the urgency in your steps and his legs moved faster, becoming the one to guide you through the grand corridors.

A blast of fire missed your head by a breath, and you turned around to find an Ifrit close behind. Seems like one caught up anyway.

The flaming creature of fire was in its natural form, which only you could see, and it was heading toward the two of you at an alarming speed. Minho tugged at your hand, confused as to why you stopped.

When he dared to glance at the other end of the corridor, color drained from his face like a wash of water on ink. It was burning, guards were fleeing, and smoke was slowly spreading through the air. Creatures he didn’t know the name of were pouncing upon the walls, leaving bright flames behind. They didn’t attack — they looked like they were looking for someone.

Which you knew. They were looking for you, or to be precise, they were looking for something you obtained.

Minho turned to face you, frantic, “What are you doing? What is happening— what are they?!”

You avoided his question, keeping your eyes on the Ifrit invisible to him. “Give me your saif.”

“What? This is not the time—”

“Give me your saif or we’ll both die.”

This time, he gave in and handed you his sword, unease dancing on his brows. A surge of energy left your fingertips when they came in contact with the leathered hilt, binding and fusing into the saif.

To Minho, you appeared to be glaring at air, but you were waiting for the moment the Ifrit shifted forms to attack. Not that you couldn’t strike it in its real form, but you’d rather not expose your identity so soon.

Just as you expected, the form of pure fire sprouted discernible legs and arms, a horned head, and snarling teeth. You didn’t miss the noise of panic that came from the prince. You almost felt bad for him. He was supposed to have a peaceful night before the next day’s festivities, not have his palace attacked by Afarit.

More guards streamed into the corridor as you raised the saif, just in time to slice it across the Ifrit’s middle. Normal weapons don’t kill them, but one infused with Jinn powers did.

The Ifrit crumpled to the ground with a spasm and a howl of agony, and the sword glowed red with an energy only you could see.

You turned to Minho, handing him his sword back and disregarding the way his eyes seemed close to popping out. “There you go. You can kill with it now.”

He only stared at you, and you were sure it’d be funny to know what went on his mind at that moment. “K-Kill?”

“Yes, well,” you inhaled, looking at the Afarit that noticed the commotion and were rushing to join the party, “We’ve attracted everyone’s attention. There’s no point in running now.”

٢

Minho took three seconds to snap back into reality and fix his stance into something more appropriate for a skilled swordsman like himself. “Stay back!”

You did what you were told, not to raise suspicions, and stepped behind him. Bringing a hand to rest on your chest, you felt the large emerald hanging from a thin chain around your neck. The Zumurruda. This is what the Afarit were after, and you’d die fighting to keep it in your hands, in one piece.

You’d seen Minho in duels before, you trusted his skills. He was renown across the three kingdoms for one thing besides his looks, and it was his swordsmanship. Yet, you couldn’t help but worry. What if all went astray and you had to brandish claws and horns to get out alive?

The shriek of an Ifrit pulled you out of your thoughts. It seemed to be leading the other three toward the two of you, finally sensing the presence of the Zumurruda. The prince was quick to slash his sword through its chest, but this gave another Ifrit the chance to pounce on him. You couldn’t see Minho’s struggle to fight it off because you had a problem to deal with on your own.

While he was distracted, the remaining two Afarit decided to go for the Zumurruda. For you.

You looked around, hastily making sure no one was watching before stabbing a hand forward and watching your fingers grow into blackened, sharp claws. They plunged straight into the first Ifrit’s chest, now that you let your magic take over, and grasped its heart. You pulled it out unthinkingly, making blood vessels stretch and snap violently, spilling blood where the two of you stood. The beating heart in your clutch should’ve repulsed you, but you couldn’t quite feel anything in that state. Evil Jinn didn’t feel.

The other Ifrit didn’t seem to see what happened to its companion and lunged at you with a snarl. As one toppled to the ground lifelessly, you felt the heart transform into a small blade and prepared to bury it in the next Ifrit’s guts, ignoring the faint pulse of the makeshift weapon. You raised the dagger, claws gone, but didn’t get to use it when a flash of metal cut through the approaching monster and brought it down. Temporarily.

Jeongin’s familiar face came into your vision. Half of the young royal’s face was covered in blood, and his once fine attire had lost a sleeve to the flames. He asked with a heaving breath, “Are you okay?”

You eyed the Ifrit that began to stand back up, answering him dismissively, “I’m fine.”

You crouched, letting your dagger cut through the Ifrit’s throat and feeling a rush of energy flow from your fingers and through the blade into its body. Simply, to kill it.

“These things,” Jeongin paused to stare at the dead Afarit, “they don’t die. How did you—”

“What are they to begin with?” Minho’s question came through labored breaths and you turned your gaze in his direction, seeing him push a lifeless Ifrit off. You convinced yourself that the flutter of relief your heart made was for the Zumurruda.

The prince sheathed his bloodied sword, eyes trailing across the corridor littered with blood, Ifrit corpses, and injured soldiers before resting on your face, as if you were the answer to a riddle he’d longed to solve. His features trembled with distress. “What’s happening, y/n? Why are there monsters in the palace— What brought them here? What kind of sorcery is this?!”

A cohort of guards ran into the corridor, stopping short in sight of the monstrous creatures, dying fire, and blood. You could feel a different kind of tension permeate the air and you sighed, glancing at your fiancé then at his cousin. They deserve an explanation.

You gulped, lowering your voice just so the conversation remained between the three of you, “Do you believe in Jinn?”

•؏•

“So, let me get this straight,” Minho ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it as he tried to take in all what you’d explained. “Someone is sending these monsters called Afarit to obtain the emerald you have, and you can’t let them have it whatsoever. No one can know about this.”

“Na’am,” you nodded for the millionth time, bored. The three of you were now at the library. Jeongin had wiped the blood off his face with a wet cloth, but Minho didn’t seem to bother with the patch of red blooming on his shoulder as he bombarded you with questions.

You never thought this was going to be easy, but it was becoming tiresome.

“Then why...didn’t this attack happen in Tallilmalek? Why here?” Jeongin frowned and you suppressed a sigh. “Tallilmalek is protected by a spell that prevents supernatural creatures like Afarit or Jinn from sensing the Zumurruda’s presence. Now that it’s out of Tallilmalek, everyone can feel it, everyone wants it for themselves.”

“You know this,” the prince shook his head, “You know this... Why would you take the Zumurruda out of the kingdom? What’s so special about it that it attracts creatures from the fires of hell?”

“I didn’t know they would detect it so soon, I’ve arrived here two days ago. Besides, I need the Zumurruda with me,” you stated, dreading the following question.

A pause.

“Why?”

You fell silent. Why? To find the Sahira’s Heart and free myself from the Jinni in me. To break the damned curse that has been ruining my family’s life for the last century. “I need it to...” but you couldn’t tell the truth yet, could you? “I need to return it to where it really belongs. The Zumurruda is a gemstone of great magic. It can’t fall in the hands of bandits or Jinn because it will grant them a power they shouldn’t have. This is my only chance.”

Half the truth will do for now.

Minho slumped on a seat with an exasperated sigh. “But it was safe in Tallilmalek!”

“Safe from Sahara and Jinn but not from humans! What do you think people would do with a gemstone of unimaginable power?” You snapped and Jeongin’s eyes widened. He looked at Minho then at you and felt as though he shouldn’t be witnessing this argument.

“Does Tallilmalek know?”

“No! This is why I don’t have much time to return it.”

“And when were you planning to do this?”

“I don’t know, tomorrow, perhaps?”

“What? You can’t do that!”

“What do you suggest then? Stay here and let more monsters have their go—”

“Tomorrow’s our wedding day!”

Minho’s voice rang through the air, bouncing off the walls to slam into your face and make you inhale sharply. The wedding.

You didn’t forget, but it was the perfect chance for you to sneak out and find the Sahira’s Heart. An arranged marriage ceremony wasn’t going to stand in your way.

Minho had stood now, glaring before he realized what he’d done. His eyes widened and waters of panic rippled in them. “Asif, I didn’t mean to—”

You shook your head. An argument was the last thing you needed in your brittle, dry relationship and you turned around to exit the library, leaving a troubled prince behind.

Perhaps you were being selfish, but there was no place for giving in, not when you’d gotten this close to fixing everything. Fiancé or not, Minho could do nothing to stop you.

•؏•

“Your Highness!” a guard barged into the king’s study, where he was discussing the previous night’s strange attack with his only son. “I apologize, Your Highness, but we have an emergency!”

The king raised his gaze to look at the uneasy guard. “What is it?”

Minho regarded the man curiously. What could it be at this early hour, and on this day?

He’d woken up with memories of the argument he had with you at the library. The image of you walking out wordlessly seemed to taunt him whenever he let his thoughts stray, and a feeling of dread settled in his heart ever since.

The guard bowed then straightened his posture, inhaling deeply before letting the terrible news hail on the royals. “The Amira cannot be found in her bedchamber.”

٣

If you are reading this, one of two things must’ve happened. I’ve died and a guard managed to return my journal home, or I’ve managed to do what the rest couldn’t and find the Sahira’s Heart.

I’m writing this on the first evening of our journey, and I suppose this is where it starts: reaching Al Mamsha.

The Zumurruda is pulling me toward it, a thin strip of land crossing Al Shaqq in Darilmalek. According to previous journals, it is guarded by Zarqa’a Al Yamama, an all-knowing woman with sharp sight and intuition. I am unsure about the encounter, but I’ve read al Amir Jinyoung’s report on crossing Al Mamsha which states that the traveler will be given a riddle to solve. Three wrong guesses and one will be forever trapped in the waters of Al Shaqq. All the past princes who chose to follow the Zumurruda took this path, so it seems that there is no other option. We’ll see how it plays out.

Al Amir Chan of Tallilmalek.

You closed the journal with a sigh. One of two things happened for sure. Prince Chan, who would’ve been a distant cousin, died in a thunderstorm while crossing Arrimal Azzarqa’a. Few crewmen survived the shipwreck, but his body was never found. He, too, sought the Sahira’s Heart.

Perhaps this was the fate of those who wished to the lift the curse and live freely. All the princes who dared to dream failed in the end, and the Zumurruda returned to Tallilmalek along with a story of their short journeys.

Perhaps it was a threat. A warning to force your parents, siblings, and all who came before them into accepting a life where love only brought misery. A curse that did nothing but make them fear what their sentiments could do.

You were raised to suppress the demon in you, a Jinni of pure evil, just like how the former royals did. For once upon a time, the most powerful Sahira known to the Alliance cursed your family with demon kids who murdered their beloved ones in cold blood.

Mages from across the land tried to break the curse, but none succeeded.

The only solution was to not have loved ones. One must not love, smile, or allow the tiniest affection to seep into their heart. Mother, father, sister, brother, husband, wife, friend — it didn’t matter. One must always polish a heart made of stone.

Until one’s fingers hurt, and no more polishing cleavers remain useable. Until one grows tired of the weight of a stone heart.

The pounding of hooves caught your attention and you looked in the direction of the noise, spotting a royal regiment cutting through the town. Leading them, you were quick to note, was the crown prince, Minho, your unfortunate fiancé.

Right, they would’ve noticed your disappearance by now.

Slipping out of the palace was easy, considering that the walls weren’t enchanted to repel Jinni powers like those back in Tallilmalek. You were gone by sunrise.

You felt the whisper of the Zumurruda, a foreign urge to travel east, and pulled your hood lower. The sooner you left the crown city, the sooner you’ll be able to use your powers freely.

As you made your way through the crowded streets of the city, you heard a shout coming from the soldiers, an order to put the city on lockdown. No one leaves. No one enters.

They’re taking the search seriously, you thought with a grimace. That would make things harder. You didn’t blame them, however. Relations between the kingdoms of the Arshilmalek Alliance had become shaky in the past years. A lost princess was a reason valid enough for Tallilmalek to wage war. A younger kingdom like Darilmalek would not survive.

You could almost sympathize with Minho. He seemed to truly care about the engagement, had always seemed to, yet you couldn’t show the smallest regard. For his safety, more than anything else.

He was another reason you wanted to break the curse.

Your steps quickened, hoping to reach the city’s borders before the guards did, but also trying to raise no suspicions. For a fleeting moment, you considered using your powers, but that thought was quickly thrown out of the window. There were too many witnesses. The last thing you’d want is to get accused of practicing forbidden magic and recreating the tale of the Lost Prince.

You could see the barren sahra’a ahead, just a few houses far, and hope blossomed in your heart. There it is, just an arm’s length away.

Then a shout accompanied by the terrible sound of hooves pounding the ground filled your ears and people began to clear the road in a panicked rush. You found yourself roughly shoved and uncomfortably squeezed between the people who moved to make way for the group of guards on horseback. You could barely move through them, and just like that, your chance slipped away right in front of you.

They’d reached the borders.

You muttered a curse under your breath and made your way through the people rather aggressively, earning a few strange looks that didn’t concern you. When you neared the set of guards, who were immersed in discussion, you pretended to be a foreign traveler and wandered off to the other, emptier side of the border.

Your first few steps went unnoticed, but soon enough, you heard a familiar voice command, “Qif!”

Too familiar. You halted but refused to turn around. The odds were all against you, you came to conclude when Minho arrived at your side, pulling the reins of his horse.

“You are not allowed to leave the city,” he said in a tone you never heard him use before, one that seemed to say my word is law.

You didn’t move or respond, which prompted the prince to speak once more, “Show your face. State your name, tribe, and your business leaving the city at this time.”

You bit your lip, although it couldn’t be seen under the shade of your hood, and thought to yourself, why did I not work on my disguise earlier today?

You wanted to slap yourself for being so foolish. Perhaps you were too...excited.

No guards joined the two of you, and after a few beats of silence, you decided to run for it. You might not be able to outrun a trained warhorse, but that would force Minho away from the rest, giving you a better chance at reasoning with him.

So, you did. You picked up your skirts and ran as fast as you could, past a startled prince and into the endless sahra’a. You heard Minho shout behind you, followed by a neigh of a horse, and you knew they were following you.

Running on sand was hard, and you were sure you were going to trip at some point. Although your lungs burned with each breath, you kept pushing yourself forward. Perhaps you weren’t made for such physical activity, you thought.

It felt like forever until Minho caught up to you — you guessed you had your powers to thank for that. His saif glinted under the harsh sun, and you were lucky to stop a few inches from the edge of the blade aimed at your neck. A chilling warning fell on your ears. “One more step, and I’ll chop your head off.”

You inhaled, waiting for someone to follow and letting your heart relax before shaking your head with a breath of a chuckle. “Chop my head off, eh?”

You didn’t see the way Minho’s grip stiffened, but you didn’t need to. You knew he recognized your voice.

Stepping away from the blade, you raised a hand to push your hood back and meet his surprised gaze. “I’d like to see you try.”

•؏•

Minho knew he’d made a terrible mistake when you were nowhere to be found in the palace. He thought it was his fault, and reasonably, he led the search the king ordered.

Although he hated to admit it, maybe the wedding wasn’t at all important in comparison to your mission. If you could prioritize it over an event that had been in planning for months, he could do the same.

After all, all the prince wanted was to show you that he cared. Just another meager attempt to try and make you dislike him less.

So, it seemed to be a complete strike of luck when you pushed off your hood to hold his gaze firmly. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I— La, I wouldn’t—” Minho stammered, quickly retracting his blade and dismounting the horse. He came to stand before you, silent as his gaze roamed over your features. Truth to be said, the prince didn’t know what he’d do if any harm befell you. When the guard shared the dismaying news, his heart dropped once more.

You seemed to like giving him a scare.

It was a relief to find you safe and unscathed, but unease still nagged at his chest. With an exhale, he muttered, “Asif. Forgive me.”

Your expression didn’t change, and he didn’t know what to take it as so he continued, “I realize now that the Zumurruda must be of high importance, considering that you were ready to escape the city to return it.

“I-I suppose the wedding ceremony pales in comparison,” he concluded and considered rambling on had you not nodded with a quiet exhale, “I apologize, as well.”

Oh? His brows shot up.

“It was selfish of me to disregard everyone’s work for my personal endeavors. But I hope you know that I cannot wait any longer now that the attack happened.”

“Of course—”

The prince was interrupted by a shout of his name, coming from an approaching figure behind you. “Minho!”

Not a guard, he remarked, noting the informality. Only then did he notice how far the two of you were from the city. He could see it, but it was a fair distance away.

You were a fast runner, he mused.

“There you are!” Jeongin’s voice became more discernible as he neared. “Someone saw you running off after a traveler. You were taking long.”

The younger royal didn’t notice you, almost trampling you over when he pulled the reins of his horse. He didn’t seem to notice Minho’s glare either. “Some claim that they spotted the Amira somewhere along the center of the city— What’s with the glare?” he frowned in confusion and looked around, finally spotting you, arms crossed and brow raised. You could practically hear his thoughts as his eyes expanded. “Oh.”

“Oh!” he repeated, this time surer, and lowered his head in embarrassment, realizing what he’d almost done. “My deepest apologies, y/n. I didn’t see you there.”

You bit back a retort and moved your head in the merest nod, “All’s fine.”

“You have to be more careful,” Minho tutted and Jeongin chewed on his bottom lip sheepishly, “Na’am.” His gaze ricocheted between the two of you before lighting up, “I suppose I should tell the soldiers to stop the search, then?”

“La,” the prince raised a hand, making his cousin look at him strangely, and turned to face you. You rarely showed interest in anything. The Zumurruda was something new. Perhaps this was his chance to improve things between the two of you. By taking interest in what mattered to you and joining you on this journey, he might be able to step a little closer to your heart. Or so he thought.

He might’ve anticipated the wedding, but he wanted to help you return the Zumurruda to where it belonged. “Let me join you.”

“What?” the question came from you and Jeongin, although he was a little louder with it. Minho only gave you a small smile, “I want to help you deliver the Zumurruda, if you’d allow me.”

You were careful not to gape at him. What changed over a night? You couldn’t help but ask, mindlessly, “But…what about the wedding?”

“If you can put other things before it, then so can I. The Zumurruda is more important, no?” a part of Minho was bursting with happiness. This is the most the two of you have talked away from the eyes of the court, without unnecessary formalities and stiff words. What seemed like a nightmare in a suit of flame was turning to be a blessing in disguise.

You nodded slowly, “You’re right.” You’d be lying to say you didn’t like the sound of Minho’s request. The princes that took this journey before you had all traveled with scouts, you didn’t expect to have the smoothest adventure alone.

Minho’s heart seemed to hammer in his chest as you thought over his suggestion. It wasn’t a decision he made in the spur of the moment – it was rather something he’d been contemplating all morning. There was no guarantee you’d agree, and he wouldn’t object if that were your choice, but he prayed to the Aliha for the opposite response.

He hoped he didn’t look too giddy when you finally made up your mind, letting out a breath as if the decision were a task that had worn you out. “I suppose I would appreciate some company along the way.”

A genuine smile broke on the prince’s face, and he looked at his cousin, “You have to come with us as well.”

“What– why?” the younger male did a terrible job of hiding his astonishment, but that didn’t seem to affect Minho. “I’m sure we need as many people on this journey as possible. Besides, I can’t have you returning to the palace now that you know about this ordeal.

Jeongin sighed, with undertones of a groan, “So, I have no choice.”

“Somewhat.”

You watched the two, slightly amused, before clearing your throat, “It’s the three of us, then?”

“Yes,” Minho nodded firmly then clasped his hands, “Where are we heading?”

You guessed if a citizen of the crown city looked far enough, they’d spot the three of you gathered in the middle of the desert and think it was an oddity of the current times. Silly or not, you began explaining the details of your journey. The details you knew of, that is, excluding the parts about the Sahira’s Heart and the curse. “We will be following the Zumurruda.”

“The gemstone makes its bearer feel a pull toward its home. No one has managed to reach it yet, but some have been remarkably close,” you pulled out the Zumurruda from beneath your tunic, laying it on your open palm for them to see. “As of now, it’s telling me to travel east, toward Al Mamsha.”

“Then east we shall go,” Minho announced. “Do we have all we need?”

“Do you have money with you?” you remembered to grab a heavy pouch of coins before escaping the palace, you wouldn’t need more with your powers anyway. Now that you had two more people with you, the money might not be enough.

“We do,” the Amir glanced at Jeongin, as if to make sure. “But is that all?”

“It should be enough. It’s better to travel light and stay the night in villages along the way.”

Your answer didn’t seem to convince the two, and you added with an awkward cough, “Either way, we cannot return to the palace to bring tents and food without raising questions. No one can know about this.”

Even if Minho wanted to let his hesitancy take over, you were the one who knew the most about the journey, not him. If you’d left the palace with the merest belongings for the trip, he would trust to do the same.

A beat of silence allowed your words to sink in the sand. That’s when Minho realized the kind of adventure he was sauntering into. Unpredictable. Perilous. Secret. Something that would challenge the very skills he’d spent all his years honing. It would either make him or break him.

He was oddly excited.

“We should get going, then. Day is only too long.”

You didn’t respond — you didn’t have to. The hood now pulled over your head was enough to say, “follow me,” and Minho thought he’d imagined the ghost of a smile on your lips.

•؏•

You began seeing the shimmering blue of Al Shaqq when the sun became hazy and low. The trip was exhausting at best, in the blazing heat and the dry air, and you quickly sympathized with the many messengers and trade caravans cutting through these sands for a living. You were beyond relieved when the thin strip of land became visible.

Although, if you thought you were tired, you couldn’t imagine the tiredness Minho was going through. Before you began your trek, he offered you his horse to ride and he continued on foot from there. Sometimes, he’d switch places with Jeongin, never for too long, however, and never with you. You supposed it was only expected. He was a prince, after all, and what was a prince without shining manners?

That didn’t stop you from offering your place repeatedly.

The three of you stopped at a small village some hours prior to satisfy your hunger and buy any necessities for what’s left of the journey. You were grateful no one outside the crown city recognized royals without their grand escorts.

This allowed Minho and Jeongin to trade their rich silks for less distinctive and more appropriate attire, as well as an additional handful of coins and two camels in exchange for their fine breed stallions with the promise to return them.

No one asked when you loaded your small caravan with food and water and resumed trudging through the golden grains.

Along the way, you’d explained to the two Darilmalekan royals why you decided to go on this journey without your family knowing. The repetitive pattern of princes trying to find the Sahira’s Heart wasn’t a coincidence. Only princes seemed strong enough to handle such a task and your parents would never let you, a princess, dirty your delicate hands with such an atrocious feat.

You’d explored your Jinni powers enough to know you wouldn’t have to dirty your hands, at least not until they became clawed and monster-like. And in that case, it would be your assailant’s concern, not yours.

Al Mamsha was a curious strip of land, one cursed with many legends by heat-struck travelers. It stretched across a rip in the desert filled with seawater, as though it were a bridge to the mountainous province of Darilmalek. Not many villagers settled nearby, as there was no use to be made of seawater and a land haunted by myths.

Only few dared to cross Al Mamsha. Only those few knew what really inhabited that piece of land.

You were about to become one of them, but you knew what, or who, guarded Al Mamsha. And you dreaded your meeting.

“Is that it?” Jeongin squinted at the enormous body of water before you. It was almost intimidating. It didn’t look this big on the maps.

On the dune where you observed, you could see the sandy line called Al Mamsha. It was empty, to your surprise. Your answer came coarse with nervousness, “Yes.”

“Should we cross it?” Minho seemed dubious, almost afraid when he asked, and you gulped. You will cross it, just like Chan and the other princes did before you. “The Zumurruda is urging us forward.”

Yet none of you moved for some moments of quiet anxiousness. Al Shaqq looked unreal, and its infamous Al Mamsha only reminded you of the many wonders you were yet to see, the many giants you were insignificant in comparison to.

Glancing west, Minho exhaled and patted the neck of the camel that carried you, “We must continue.”

But even the animal’s steps seemed reluctant.

As the three of you approached Al Mamsha, you kept an eye out for something to appear and stop you from advancing on to the sandy road. There was nothing but a clear, lifeless path, and you continued forward.

The camels halted to a stop at the mouth of Al Mamsha, making you frown in confusion as you patted the animal, “Why did you stop?”

It didn’t answer you, but your answer came from beneath the sand.

You wouldn’t believe it if you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes. A woman emerged from the sand, fair and young, dressed in a fine white kaftan with a matching turban crowning her head. Perhaps what stunned you the most was the bright, striking blue of her eyes, a shade you’ve only seen in sketches of her. Her aura was eerie, and she was looking right at you.

When she spoke, her voice seemed to come from the depths of the earth. “You shall not pass.”

You weren’t afraid, but rather in mute awe. This was her. This was—

“Zarqa’a Al Yamama,” you breathed, ignoring the petrified stares Minho and Jeongin were giving you and making the woman shake her head solemnly. “That would be my great grandmother. I am Lia, the Guardian of Al Mamsha.”

Strange, that was not mentioned in the journals. You cleared your throat, pushing your thoughts back. “Pardon me, Sayeda Lia, but we need to move forward.”

She did not miss a beat. “You shall not pass.”

The prince then swallowed his shock and stepped forward, finding his best regal voice, “As the Crown Prince of Darilmalek, I ask of you to grant us passage.”

“You shall not pass.” Lia did not spare him a glance, her crystal blue eyes fixed on you.

You saw Minho’s hand reach for the hilt of his saif from your peripheral vision and you asked again with urgency, “Please. Is there anything we can give you in exchange for our clear passage?”

“I need not your mortal gifts.” Her voice boomed around you, despite being in the open, wide sahra’a.

At that, Minho grabbed his sword and you held your breath, waiting for those words to fall out of her dainty lips like in every journal.

Lia crossed her arms, and her eyes blazed like blue flames. “You shall only pass if you solve my riddle.”

There is it, you hoped your satisfaction didn’t take form on your face. “We will solve your riddle.”

Beyond what you thought was possible, her eyes glowed brighter, almost white in their brilliance. You had to squint and look away.

For a short while, there was silence, then her words came out grim and haunting, “Solve my riddle and you shall pass. Fail thrice and you shall perish.”

You held your breath, rummaging through all the riddles you’ve read or heard and kept for this critical moment.

“I can only be kept once I have been given. What am I?”

You haven’t heard that one before.

Inhaling stilly, you turned your head to look at Minho, meeting his worried gaze just as it fell on you. He rubbed the camel’s neck, making it sit for you to dismount.

Off the mammal’s back, you swallowed a lump of anxiousness and asked, “Any ideas?”

The prince shook his head and his cousin mimicked, finally dismounting to stand with the two of you. It seemed as though they were too afraid to speak.

Your gaze wandered to the sand beneath you as a whirlwind of thought took over your mind. Something that can only be kept if given…but that’s contradictive!

The paradox helped you rule out all material things, since things like coin cannot be kept after being given away. That left all things abstract — emotions, thoughts, bonds.  

“Give…” you muttered then a guess sparked in your mind and you blurted, “Kindness?”

Lia frowned, and you could’ve sworn the ground trembled. “Incorrect.”

Foolish move, you scolded yourself mentally and avoided the concerned looks coming from the Darilmalekan royals. Think, y/n!

Something to be kept. Something to keep…keep your…keep my— your eyes widened when it struck you. It only makes sense!

“I think…I think I know the answer,” you whispered, and Minho questioned carefully, “What is it?”

Jeongin stepped closer and you made sure to keep your voice low. “One’s word.”

You knew you were right when realization lightened their expressions. An encouraging look from your fiancé made you step forward and speak, this time confidently. “The answer is one’s word. One can only keep their word once they’ve given it.”

When the blue-eyed woman remained silent, you waited for the ground to rumble and her to declare your second failure. Yet, nothing happened.

Lia nodded after several moments of silence, and you thought you imagined her subtle smile, “Very well. You have succeeded and therefor, you shall pass. But be warned, brave travelers, for the journey ahead is perilous, and the Isle of the Damned is no place for those of weak will.”

“Shukran.” You didn’t try to hide your relief, turning to mount your ride before she spoke again, “Your animals cannot move any farther into the Isle of the Damned. You are to travel on foot.”

You didn’t question her, recalling a statement you’ve read in a journal some months ago. The Sahira’s Heart left corruption in its wake, breathed chaos into its air, and spread malice in the land it rested in. Animals from the pure land will never venture near.

“Without them we travel, then,” you adjusted the clasp of your cloak as Minho shook his head, “We can’t leave them behind. We promised to return them.”

“Worry not, ya Amir, the animals will return on their own,” Lia informed. “Go on, travelers, before night awakens the beast resting in Al Shaqq.”

The beast resting in Al Shaqq. Many legends were told about the unnatural body of water, most known was the myth of the Falak, the great serpent that carries the world. It has been said that its child sleeps at the bottom of Al Shaqq. Any travelers crossing Al Mamsha at night would be its next live toy. Although, no travelers have dared to approach that land during the night yet.

You didn’t want to be the first.

A wordless exchange of glances darted between the three of you, and with a long exhale, you took your first step unto Al Mamsha.

•؏•

“This is absolutely preposterous!” the Tallilmalekan Crown Prince threw his arms in the air, frustrated. Changbin had been enjoying a Finjan of coffee when he overheard the news of your disappearance from a pair of oblivious guards, and it riled up the Jinni in him instantly.

Your brother stormed into the Darilmalekan King’s study, forcing the panicked advisors to leave when they noticed the frown etched on his handsome face. But before he could voice out his anger, a guard barged in, carrying news of Minho’s and Jeongin’s disappearance as well.

It made perfect sense in his mind. The had prince taken you and run away.

Changbin disliked your fiancé, but now, he seethed with aversion toward him.

“I am sure you know what this means for both kingdoms,” he said through gritted teeth. This marriage was your parents’ last hope at mending the deteriorating ties between Darilmalek and Tallilmalek. It seemed like Minho had other plans, however.

“If they are not found soon, I am afraid Darilmalek’s end would be two hundred years of independence.”

The king stood from his seat abruptly, recognizing the threat but being unable to acknowledge it. The fate of his people’s freedom relied on his meager words, and his hands were tied on the matter. The old king kept his tone firm and regal, “I trust my son, and I am sure no harm will befall the Amira with him. He will return, or we will find them.”

Changbin wanted to scoff but he settled with muttering spitefully before exiting the study. “Well, I don’t trust him.”

When he left, the king fell back on his chair, helpless. Oh, ya waladi, what have you done?

•؏•

They call it the Isle of the Damned, yet I believe it is unfair to the villagers settled between its mountains and dunes. We have crossed Al Mamsha and spared an hour of sunlight to find a place and raise camp for the night.

To my utter surprise, we found an unmarked village a little over an hour’s walk away. Its villagers offered to house us in their homes and serve us dinner. Such is the fine hospitality of the people of these sandy lands.

When the sun rises, we will be continuing east. I am unsure of the journey’s path after this step. No surviving journals clearly state where the Zumurruda leads after Al Mamsha.

Nevertheless, some speculate we are heading toward—

You quickly shut the journal when you heard a rustle from the other side of the partition. It was almost as though you were performing a play and Chan’s journal was the script. You crossed Al Mamsha safely and found a small village not too far away. Seeing that the three of you were travelers, the villagers welcomed you into their homes unhesitatingly. They sat you for a hearty feast then showed you to a place they’d prepared.

Their generosity wasn’t surprising. The three kingdoms maintained strict traditions in hospitality, no matter the guest’s origins or story. This was your first time experiencing it firsthand.

A partition was placed for your comfort between your bed and Minho’s and Jeongin’s beds. It was helpful when you wanted to read without them asking questions, but you could never be too carefree.

The rustling stopped, and you thought it simply was one of them shifting in bed before a faint sound caught your attention. “Y/n?”

You held your breath. Why is he not asleep?

For a couple of beats, you said nothing, thinking that if you remained silent, the prince would return to sleep and you to reading in the dark — one of the gifts you were born with. Perhaps it was guilt that made you finally whisper back, you owed him at least that. “Yes?”

“Oh…you’re still awake.” he was muttering, but you were sure you heard a hint of relief in his words. Hope. You couldn’t pinpoint the reason, but it made your heart clench uncomfortably.

There was silence again before he murmured, sounding almost defeated, “You should try to sleep.”

“You should, too,” you said after hesitating. “Who knows what awaits us tomorrow.”

Minho hummed then, and with a few rustles, he said nothing more. You assumed he’d fallen asleep.

A silent sigh left your lips and you looked at the journal between your hands. What am I doing?

This journey was one you’d wanted to take for a while. You’d barely begun, but unease was quickly creeping into your heart.

If this were a play and you were following a script, would it end with the same tragedy that befell Chan and the many princes before him? Were you only inching closer to your doom?

La. You forced the voice in your head silent and tucked the journal away. You were not going to fail because you had one thing these princes were too scared to use. You had a Jinni inside you, and you were not afraid to use your powers when needed.

This journey will not end up in failure.

Finally lying down, you let your eyelids drop, exhaustion taking over easily. But just when you were ready to surrender to sleep, another sound startled you awake. Not a whisper or a rustle of sheets, but the unmistakable unsheathing of a sword.

٤

Hyunjin could feel it in his bones. He could smell it in the air, that sickeningly sweet scent of power. The Zumurruda was close.

He’d been alerted a few days ago when the Isle breathed with life once more. Someone had taken the Zumurruda out of Tallilmalek, again.

This time, he was getting his hands on it.

Finding the bearers of the gemstone wasn’t hard. They didn’t travel with an enormous escort like those ridiculous princes. Just that mere trio of them, with little baggage and a mysterious aura.

One of them caught his attention. A young lady whom his spies of Afarit reported to have a strange energy surrounding her. He’d assumed it was a spell of protection casted on her by a relative’s request, or that she was a magic meddler. Only now, as he stood in a room of sleeping people, did he realize what that restless energy was.

Jinn.

She was half Jinni, and her companions knew no better.

She carried the Zumurruda.

What a short, sad tale, he wanted to chuckle as he unsheathed his sword and prepared to strike her sleeping figure.

What he didn’t prepare for, however, was for her to spring up at the sound and shout, “Qif!”

This successfully awakened the rest and before Hyunjin could react, the edge of a saif was pressed under his chin.

“How did you get in here?”

A male’s voice, but it sounded nothing like a sleeping man’s. A terrible realization dawned on him. None of them were asleep.

Did she feel his presence like he felt hers? Was he walking right into a trap?

La, Hyunjin was far too powerful a Sahir to fall into mundane traps.

“You shouldn’t be asking me this question,” he answered and tossed his saif to the ground. There will be no need for it anymore.

In the dark, he could see her expression change as realization dawned on her too. A faint smirk drew itself on his lips when she whispered urgently, “Be careful. He’s a Sahir.”

“Be careful indeed,” he mused, “Spill a single droplet of my blood and your family shall be damned for eternity.”

“What brought you here?” even if he had understood the warning, the young man did not retract his sword.

Hyunjin could see things a regular human couldn’t see, and he could clearly make out his assailant’s features. Sharp yet dainty and undeniably handsome. He could pass as an Amir. Once upon a time, he would’ve been someone Hyunjin rivaled against.

The Sahir shrugged. “I’m here for the Zumurruda.”

A hush of silence befell the room and Hyunjin knew they knew.

When the young lady spoke, the red aura around her shook angrily. “We do not have what you seek.”

“Is that so?” he raised a brow. “That’s odd because I–”

“Kafa! You will leave or I’ll cut you down where you stand,” the young man holding the saif threatened. Hyunjin wanted to laugh. “And risk centuries of bad luck and misery on you and those who succeed you? You’re one brave young man.”

“We don’t have the Zumurruda,” the girl repeated, this time with more emphasis, “but we know where to find it.”

At this, the two other individuals in the room seemed taken aback. The saif even lowered a little bit.

Foolish humans, Hyunjin mocked inwardly. That was a lie and he knew it. “Oh, really?”

“Na’am.”

He would play along, that was more fun.

“Then take me to it.”

He saw how her pupils trembled. She felt something, he was sure. She knew that he spotted the lie, but she continued with it. Foolish, foolish human.

“You can join us.” Her proposal was met with a sound of protest from the back of the room, but it was not acknowledged. “Whatever your intentions are for seeking the Zumurruda, we can settle them when we find it.”

“But, y–”

Perhaps it was for his personal entertainment did Hyunjin agree. The young man’s almost-objection was a bonus. “I’ll join you.”

•؏•

“Dead? All six of them?!” The man glared at his subordinates angrily. A lord of thieves like him shouldn’t be facing such adversities, he believed, yet his good for nothing underlings couldn’t even retrieve a simple gemstone.

He let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes, “I shouldn’t be surprised. If one wants anything done around here, one must do it themselves.”

He reached for the lower compartment in his desk and pulled out a book as old as the world. A cloud of dust rose in the air when he placed it on the surface before him. “This one’s tough, huh?”

“Very much, sir–”

“What are you two imbeciles doing still standing here? Move!” his outburst made his two henchmen scurry out of the study, barely avoiding tripping over their own feet on their way.

He rolled his eyes after them for the nth time, wondering why he couldn’t find better minions. Right, these two idiots are the only ones who remained alive.

Flipping through the worn-out pages of the book, his eyes scanned the titles until he found what he needed. “There.”

His lips stretched into an ugly grin as he read over the lines of the summoning spell. “You might’ve been able to defeat the Afarit, but let’s see how well you can handle this one, bearer of the Zumurruda.”

•؏•

“Well, then, I’ll see the three of you by sunrise,” the strange Sahir remarked and before you could say anything, strong wind broke through your temporary home. You turned your face away from the harsh winds but when you looked back up, he was gone. As though he never stood there.

What...was that?

“What just happened?” you heard Jeongin whisper-exclaim and you reached up for the nearby mishkah, lighting it up and watching as its brilliance washed over the room.

You had no idea yourself.

“I don’t know.”

“Y/n— were you not in your right mind? How can you offer to let a stranger, and a dangerous one at that, accompany us?” Minho was baffled, to say the least. Didn’t you say this journey was extremely dangerous and secretive? When did you start letting strangers unto your plans?

The partition that stood in between hid the distressed look on your face. How would you explain it to them? That stranger had a bizarre aura, something was off with him. Too much power, something similar to the energy that radiates off your siblings and off you. Something not entirely human.

“He’s dangerous, Minho,” you resorted to saying, failing to realize how his name rolled off your tongue easily, almost naturally. “He knows we have the Zumurruda. Sharing it is the only solution that doesn’t include bloodshed or eternal damnation.”

“But you can’t trust him, can you? Can we?”

“That’s why we have you.”

Perhaps it was exhaustion that made you say something so…unguarded. For a fleeting moment, the real you peeked at the world. No Jinn to be concerned with, no curses, just what you really wished to say.

You knew you appeared to dislike the prince, it was a façade made to fool your Jinni half. You tried to ingrain that in your mind through your actions and speech, everything you did was planned and calculated to keep the monster at bay.

But some rare times, the closed off bit of your heart would speak. You didn’t trust the Sahir, but you trusted Minho. That would be enough.

When you received no response, you lay back down, clutching the Zumurruda as you murmured goodnight. You’d rather not hear an answer to that.

On the other side of the partition, Jeongin looked at his cousin with a raised brow. This is new.

If he knew no better, he’d assume the prince had forgotten how to speak. The saif in his hand hung limply at his side as he stared at the makeshift wall made of palm tree fronds. An unexplainable expression illuminated his features.

What did you mean? He didn’t want to believe what his mind told him. Why would he give himself such hope?

Sighing, he shook his head and dropped his sword on the side of the bed. It was too late in the night and his thoughts had been strained enough. “Goodnight, Jeongin.”

“Goodnight.” The younger royal continued to watch him, curious but also sympathetic. In a way, he didn’t understand the manner in which his cousin thought; why he kept trying to make you see him as someone other than an unlikable betrothed. But in another way, he understood completely.

Minho loved you, and it was something almost magical. No matter what you did, the feelings he’d garnered over the years only burned brighter. And although Jeongin complained about how hopeless your case was, he was almost sorry for the prince.

Hundreds were ready to dedicate their lives for him, yet the only life he cared about was one with you.

•؏•

The sun brought a new day with it despite your weary limbs’ complaints. You rose with an unusual sense of unease in your heart. You dreaded what this day held for you.

The Sahir was indeed there when the sun rose, looking as though he didn’t plan an ambush at the dead of night. He introduced himself as Hyunjin, and you ignored the uncanny familiarity of the name.

That morning, the Zumurruda’s pull directed you south, away from the mountains. It came as a surprise, considering that in Chan’s journal, he mentioned moving east. You don’t remember reading about the Zumurruda changing routes…

“Do we know where we’re heading?” you felt his presence before you heard his voice, dark, corrupt. It made all your senses perk up.

Hyunjin fell in step beside you, and you didn’t have to steal a glance at Minho to know that a scowl was beginning to form on his face. The three of you were walking side by side while the Sahir trailed a few steps behind. What made him join, you guessed, was to bother you.

The orb of light in the sky was lathering the golden grains of sand with formidable heat, and the blows of wind were doing very little to help any of you cool off. You were not in a state to be bothered.

“Shamal.” Your response should’ve showed that you didn’t want to talk, but it seemed that Hyunjin couldn’t take the hint. “Yes, but to where? We can’t just be traveling south blindly.”

“To a place, that’s for sure.” You let out an exasperated breath.

“Your vagueness is quite–”

“You should learn to understand people’s tones,” Minho cut him off, sounding uncharacteristically hostile, not unreasonably though.

“Ah, it’s the angry saif man,” a sickeningly sweet smile drew itself on Hyunjin’s lips. “I haven’t forgiven you yet for threatening to kill me.”

The Amir only glared in response and you began to regret the moment you offered to let the Sahir join you on this trek.

“It honestly baffles me. What is someone like you doing with them?” he reminded you of some ladies at court. Those who only yapped gossip and rumors. Maybe you should’ve let Minho kill him when he had the chance.

Your silence only prompted him to continue, enjoying the way his words made the energy around you crackle angrily. “Really, what need do you have of two common swordsmen? Are they guards of some sort? Or are you perhaps…” his gaze traveled between the three of you before a knowing smirk made an appearance, “Ah, I see now.”

At that point, you were sure he was purposely riling you up. Stopping short, you turned to glare at him and for a blink, his eyes glowed red. You thought you’d imagined the face of the Devil in his, a terrifying sneer and evil eyes.

Hallucinations, you pushed your worrying thoughts back. “I don’t appreciate you speaking that way– What in the…” you trailed away when a shadow fell over the four of you, blocking out sunlight completely. Even Hyunjin grew silent.

Daring to look up, you were met with the silhouette of an enormous bird, circling over you like a predator.

“Um...what is that?”

You were too scared to answer Jeongin’s question, you weren’t even sure you wanted to know the answer. “I-I don’t know but it doesn’t—”

The ginormous bird stopped circling the air, and with heart-stopping realization on your behalf, dived headfirst toward you. A shout was leaving your lips before you could process what was happening. “Run!”

A Rokh. You’ve read about the mystical bird in ancient books. It lived in the highest mountains, at the very peak, and summoning it required a forgotten and forbidden spell. Fear, for a reason other than the beast trying to have you for lunch, flooded your heart.

Someone was trying to stop you.

The squawk that rang at your ears was deafening, and you found yourself falling to your knees while pressing the palms of your hands against them in pain. A violent blow of sandy wind resulting from the Rokh swooping in was almost enough to push you off the ground. You would’ve lost all sense of the world had that unsettling feeling not made an appearance. The same warning that came from the depths of the earth before the Afarit attacked at the palace.

You stood with a start, wobbling a little as you tried to blink the sand out of your eyes. Something was coming.

The Rokh was back in the sky, putting you in the inconvenience of darkness. Alone. You tried to find the rest, tried to find Minho, but the sand obscuring your vision made it an impossible feat. Panic quickened your breaths. Where are they?

You thought you saw a figure approach you and you called hopefully, “Minho? Is that you?”

The howling wind responded instead. You tried to walk closer. “Jeongin?”

Then you began noticing something weird about the figure’s walk. It wasn’t a walk, you realized when you squinted at it. It was a hop. And at that, you noticed that no matter how close the figure got, only one half of its body was visible. One leg, one arm, half a head, and half a torso.

That was when you became convinced you were living a nightmare.

Before you could attempt to run away from the Nasnas, it pounced on you, sinking its single clawed hand through the layers of cloth and into your shoulder. The scream that left your lips wasn’t entirely yours, but of the other soul sharing your body. Feral, as it tore through the bonds you’ve trapped it with.

Pain had blanked your mind out, so you didn’t quite understand what you were doing when you reached for the monster’s only shoulder with a clawed hand. The Nasnas let out a terrible shriek when your claws sunk into its skin, making it lose hold of you and reel back. You didn’t stop there.

Power came in immense amounts when you let your Jinni half make an appearance, but so was the hunger for bloodshed. You pulled, dislodging the arm and tearing it from the body. The spray of blood that fell over you sizzled, but that was the least of your concerns. The limb turned itself into a sword in your grip and you spun to slash it through the agonized Nasnas. Its tortured screams came to a choked stop.

Your heart should’ve hurt you from the strength and frequency of its beats, but you were instead staring at the mutilated body of the monster that attacked you. Its pale skin was splattered with gruesome red, the same shade dirtying the precious yellow of the sand. A strange sign on its forehead caught your attention and you leaned closer to examine it before a shout came from the distance. “Y/n!”

Cold dread prickled your skin as you straightened up instantly, praying no one saw you kill the Nasnas.

You were quickly assured that no one saw you, simply because they were all being attacked too. The wind had settled, and you were able to find your companions each stuck in a throng of bloodthirsty Nasanees. The sight made the Jinni inside you feverish. More to kill.

La, this wasn’t you. You weren’t a cruel killer, the secret sword training sessions you’d have with your brother didn’t make you one. But it only made sense to curse a family with the most violent Jinn there was, no?

You spotted a few monsters hopping toward you and Minho not too far away, who was cutting through the beasts as he ran to you. This is going to be an ugly fight, you thought with a grimace when you noticed the bleeding scratch on Minho’s cheek. You forgot you were almost completely covered in blood, both yours and the Nasnas’.

Just don’t get too carried away, you reminded yourself, looking up to find the Rokh still flying above you. Or just get out of this alive.

The Nasanees reached you first, but you were ready this time. Fighting wasn’t something you did regularly beyond the quiet training court, but it was almost second nature when you let your powers take over.

Your saif stabbed through the first Nasnas’ middle and you pulled it sideways, cutting a clean line through. This seemed to be a distraction because the second monster decided to lunge at you while the former one toppled to the ground. The force of the impact drove you to the ground, making it a struggle to push the Nasnas off you. A struggle, but it was not impossible.

You managed to roll out of its grip, sparing no time to plunge your sword into its back to kill it. Standing back up, you expected another monster to attack, but the one that was reaching for you had the bloodied tip of a saif poking through its chest.

It crumpled to the ground when the sword was aggressively retracted to reveal Minho standing on the other side. The erratic rise and fall of his chest was very visible as his gaze trailed over the lifeless bodies sprawled between the two of you. A delirious grin stretched his lips when he looked back at you. “Where did you learn to fight so impeccably?”

“Changbin taught me.” that small smile was yours. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t miss the way he faltered for a moment at your question before answering, “I’m okay. Are you?”

It was an ironic question, considering the blood that tinted your skin and filled the air with that nauseating stench. “I’m good.” The wounds on your shoulder would heal in no time.

Your gaze moved to where you thought you saw Jeongin, skillfully countering all the attacks aimed at him. It seemed to be a Darilmalekan thing. “We should help him.”

Minho nodded and immediately rushed to where his cousin fought. You followed, gaze gravitating back to the Rokh in the sky. You had enough trouble on the ground, the threat up above was only adding to the tension.

Some Nasanees came in your way but taking them down was easy. You’d never found yourself in a fight until recently, and you realized how different it felt to fight alongside someone. There was a wordless, mutual understanding between you and Minho; protect each other’s backs, simply.

Maybe you liked the way it felt.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Hyunjin, standing with his hands clasped before him and eyes a hellish red. Any Nasnas that approached him would either drive its claws into its own guts, chew off its hand, or attack one of its kind. He was controlling them, manipulating them, and an angry thought crossed your mind. He could help the three of you, but he had chosen to stand aside and watch you get killed.

Because he knows we have the Zumurruda. What good does he gain from saving us?

You gripped your sword tighter, slashing it across a snarling monster. We’ll survive just to spite him, then.

“What are these creatures?” Jeongin asked with a shout when he spotted the two of you near. Your saif sliced through a Nasnas’s throat and you came to stand beside him, heaving a breath, “These are the kind of offspring you get when a Jinni and a human are the parents.”

“They keep coming!” Minho’s desperate exclamation made your stomach flip. They kept coming, indeed. No matter how many you killed, there was always more to surround you. You doubted any of you would be able to last long enough.

You can finish them all, a voice in your head suggested, wicked and sinister. Just let go. Let me in. Let your true self show.

La! You pushed the voice back, but it was of no use. You saw blood wherever you looked, pale corpses wherever you stepped, cries of aggression wherever you listened. Next to you, Jeongin’s left sleeve was torn away, exposing an ugly gash across his upper arm. Minho, a few monsters away, was suffering more than a single scratch. Your shoulder pulsed with a numbing ache.

Too much.

It was too much.

You could no longer keep track of the swings of your saif or the creatures falling lifeless at your feet. This ambush was bound to destroy you.

And perhaps what finally snapped the cord was the ear-splitting squawk coming from above. Daring to look up and finding the Rokh heading straight toward you, you lost all awareness of the world.

It felt as though something was tearing through your guts, burning, boiling. Your voice was no longer yours as a wrangled scream left your lips. It might’ve been pain from the Nasanees that pounced on your doubled over body or what was rising within you, but when you opened your eyes again, you only saw red.

Standing up, you felt almost weightless. The monsters that came in your way were like sticks to snap with your clawed hands. Your sword flashed between the masses until you were standing alone. They’d all been killed or had escaped; you didn’t care. Your attention was fixed on the Rokh.

To any onlooker, you supposed you looked deranged, standing in the way of the giant bird. But maybe that mattered little compared to your appearance. Red, blazing eyes, dark, horrifying horns, and bloodied, blackened fists. You were still human, but not quite.

In the background, someone called your name. The voice made your head pound with pain, but you ignored it, raising your saif and flinging it right at the approaching Rokh. The action took no effort, but the sword swiveled through the air with unhuman force, landing in the narrow joint between the bird’s wing and body. Any regular weapon would do it no harm, but this was a cursed sword, surging with Jinni powers.

The Rokh’s wings flailed with a thunderous squawk as you felt your powers bleed into its body, leaving a trail of havoc and corruption. You watched as it thrashed in the air, hurtling toward the ground at an alarming speed, but you didn’t run away. The giant bird fought against the venomous magic, you felt it, but it was losing the fight, easily. It wasn’t long before it crashed into the ground, limbs folded in awkward positions, sending a great puff of sand into the air and forcing you to shield your eyes.

Finally, there was silence.

The wind was quiet as the enormous creature spent its last, excruciating moments. It was as though the universe had held its breath, and only the untamed beating of your heart was apathetic enough to make any noise.

The nightmare was over.

A tingle ran across your skin as you eyed the destruction around you, the chilling bloodshed. Repulsion, disgust, or horror were nowhere to be found in your heart, and you knew why. The sight only made the little voice in your head quiver in exhilaration.

But then, even that voice went silent. “Y-Y/n?”

You spun around in a beat, and a crushing realization struck when your gaze fell upon the Darilmalekan prince, his cousin, and the Sahir. Oh, no.

The reality of the situation dawned on you as your conscious rushed back in. You’ve made a terrible, horrible mistake. The flames in your eyes died out as you returned to your normal form, horns and claws disappearing like illusions.

Hyunjin looked oddly amused, Jeongin was blatantly petrified, but what hurt you was the expression of pure fear distorting Minho’s features. Great going, a voice in your head mocked, you’ve crushed whatever crumbling bond the two of you had.

No, what hurt you the most was the fact that his fear was directed at you, caused by you.

A demon in human skin.

٥

“I-I can explain— I—” the stutter in your voice made you feel small and vulnerable. It felt foreign, wrong. You weren’t a weakling, never were.

Yet, you had never been more helpless.

Minho’s expression changed very little, but he managed to blink once, twice, and thrice before forcing his gaze to the sandy ground. The pulsing ache on his cheek was long forgotten as he inhaled shakily. What he had seen couldn’t be real. It didn’t make sense at all. Yet it happened. Horns erupted from your forehead and claws extended from your fingers, he saw it happen right before his eyes.

For a moment, the monsters were pouncing on you, but in the next moment, you were cutting your way through them with utter ease and terrible violence. Killing, you made it seem easy and simple. There was no remorse on your face.

That wasn’t you.

But...it was.

Daring to look back at your distraught face, he felt his throat run dry. He didn’t know what to say.

Sensing the awkward, still tension, Hyunjin sighed, “Are we waiting for another attack? We should get going and leave explanations for later.”

“R-Right,” you mumbled, letting your gaze fall to the ground and turning southward to resume your long trek wordlessly. Hyunjin followed you instantly, disregarding the bodies scattered across the ground and the large, lifeless bird lying nearby.

You avoided looking at the carcasses as you trudged ahead, finding that one worry was more than enough to keep your mind occupied. The two royals soon followed, but they stayed back — not that you were paying attention, of course.

The wound on your shoulder was almost healed, courtesy of your Jinni powers, but Minho and Jeongin had injuries that should be tended to. They were slightly deep scratches which they cleaned along the way, unwilling to interrupt the walk. Their silence hurt you more than it should’ve.

You’re being sensitive. Get ahold of yourself! A voice scolded inwardly.

The journey was appropriately silent this time, even the Sahir remained quiet as you crossed the sands. You stopped a few times to rest and reenergize, but no words were exchanged. At least not between you and anyone else. You thought you heard Jeongin mutter something to the prince a few times.

That was better. You had more time to think about the reasonable explanation you’d give them later. But even the slow hours of sunlight didn’t seem to be enough, and night befell the desert sooner than you liked.

You reached another village by then, just as you calculated earlier that day, and seeing your bloodied attire and terrible states, the villagers ushered you into their homes quickly.

They offered your group the change of clothing you needed, a place to wash up, and some medical supplies — you didn’t have to pretend to clean your healed wound.

Then, you were sat for dinner in the isolated guest house of the village. The suffocating tension only increased then, and none of you found the will to satisfy your pleading stomachs.

Seated in a small circle around the food, quiet much like the previous hours of the day had been, you dared to be the first one to break the unbearable silence with a sigh. “I think it’s time for an explanation.”

At your hushed words, Minho’s head snapped up, and a similar look of hesitant curiosity illuminated his cousin’s face. Hyunjin, however, smiled, eyes twinkling red when you thought you were hallucinating. “Ah, finally. Go on, demon girl, tell us.”

You caught the dark look Minho threw his way but decided to ignore his words, collecting your thoughts with a deep inhale. The food will be getting cold. “This story is a long one.”

“My family,” you paused, remembering that Hyunjin didn’t know of your royal status, “has been cursed for around a century.”

The prince’s eyebrow arched at this and you took that as a sign to continue your tale. “During the first century of the Arshilmalek Alliance, internal conflict was wreaking havoc across Tallilmalek. The royal forces were in a state of war with the citizens of the kingdom, many were lost due to those attacks. One...of my ancestors fought in a minor battle against the citizen-made forces. The fight took them near the mountains, where the house of one of the most powerful Sahirat was built. The fight was brutal and violent, and it unfortunately killed many innocent children and women. The Sahira’s child was one of them.

“The child and his mother were heading toward their home when they got caught up midst the fight. The mother tried to escape and protect him, but one soldier suspected her of being a threat and shot an arrow in her direction. The soldier...was my ancestor, and his arrow went into the child’s heart.”

Deadly silence settled in the room when you stopped talking. Your story wasn’t over, it had barely begun, but you gave a moment of silence for the innocent soul lost to the raging fires of war. Not a breath was heard, even the wind outside seemed to hush down and listen to your dark secret. An echo of the Sahira’s cry of agony many, many years ago.

“The Sahira caught the bleeding child in her arms with a cry of distress,” you gulped, hating how vivid the scene seemed in your head, “When her eyes landed on the culprit she screamed at him, a curse that would haunt him and his successors forever. May you never forget the pain of loss.

“The soldier thought nothing of her shouts, and while he felt a pang of guilt in his heart, he returned to the fight. Some weeks later, the war ended with the victory of the crown. The soldier went back to his wife, who was pregnant with his son at the time and nearing labor. It wasn’t long before the couple welcomed a new member to their family.

“At first, their son seemed like the other kids. He played with his cousins, he studied with his elders, and he loved his parents very much. But on his sixth birthday, the first incident took place. His mother had gone to tuck him into bed, but never returned to her room. When...the husband went to look for her, he found her in his son’s room, lying in a pool of her own blood. The hole where her heart had been gaped at him, while his son cried over his mother’s body, hands bloody.

“When asked, the son would say he didn’t know what had happened. His mother was there, then she was dying on the floor of his room. It made no sense for a child, only six years of age, to commit such a heartless crime! So, the man decided that an assassin had slipped into his house and murdered his wife, and the boy was put back to bed.

“Some weeks later, in the darkest hour of the night, a scream was heard in the man’s house. He woke with a start and rushed to the source of the sound, which led him to the stables. There, he found his son hunched over the disfigured body of a pony. His pony, he realized, but that didn’t matter as much as the horns erupting from the boy’s forehead and the claws stretching from his fingers.

“His eyes glowed like fire when he snapped his head to look at his father. Something pulsed in the child’s grip, but the man was too terrified to try to know what it was. His son looked like an Ifrit.

“Luckily then, the little boy snapped out of it and dropped to the ground with a sob when he saw his dead pony. The terrible truth had revealed itself to the man, and he found himself remembering the Sahira’s words that day. The first Jinni child had been born.

“Devastated, the man installed extra protection in his house, sent his son to all the Atiba’a and Sahara in the city, and tried to find a way to reverse the curse. But it was all in vain. Many tried to exorcise the Jinni inside the little boy, but none succeeded. No spell nor medication helped. The man gave up then, but the nightmare didn’t end there.

“News reached him that his niece, a few years younger than his son, had murdered her sleeping father and attempted to kill her mother too. The curse had spread to the entirety of the family. Every child born after the war had a Jinni inside them, thirsty for their loved ones’ blood.

“The family denied the curse in the beginning, but when the attacks increased in frequency, they knew they had to find a way to live with it. The parents began to treat their children coldly, to spark dislike and detest in their hearts and protect themselves. When the new generation of half-Jinn took over, they took the liberty to understand the Jinn inside them and develop ways to keep them in check.

“My family became known for their lack of emotions. Generation after generation was taught to carry no feelings to avoid waking the Jinn up. But to replace that hole in their hearts, they began to discover what having a Jinni inside oneself gives from power.”

You dared to tear your gaze from the carpet, sighing as though telling that story was a wearying effort. Quite literally, it was. “What you’ve seen earlier was only some of it.”

“Some of it? There’s— there’s more?” Jeongin’s disbelief didn’t mask the fear in his tone. You couldn’t blame him. You’d be scared of yourself too. “Na’am.”

“And you have full control of the Jinni?” the Sahir seemed intrigued, which didn’t soothe the unease you felt near him. You avoided his eyes when you answered, “Most of the time. It would awaken on its own due to the curse if I’m not careful with my feelings.”

“So, we are all in danger of your Jinni waking up and slaughtering us in our sleep?”

The question shouldn’t have made your chest tighten, especially coming from Hyunjin, but you could feel Minho’s intense gaze on you. Somehow, it made the words coming out of your mouth hurt.

“La, I have no feelings for any of you.”

At this, the prince stood up, excusing himself in an incoherent whisper before rushing out of the room. His cousin soon followed after giving you a confused look, which left you alone with the Sahir.

You knew it would be impolite to leave the food untouched, but you had no will to eat. If anything, you wanted to throw up. Perhaps it was how exposed you felt. No one outside the Tallilmalekan palaces knew of the curse, and no one should.

You’d just broken that, and to none other than your betrothed.

Why were you frustrated?

“You know,” Hyunjin sighed and you looked at him with your lips pressed in a straight line. The Darilmalekan royals were no longer around, you could finally confront him freely. You had much to say. “What?”

“You and I...we’re the same.” You noticed that his hand was closed over a charm he wore around his neck. It wasn’t there before.

“How so?”

“You felt it, didn’t you? That strange energy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you denied. What did this stranger know?

When his eyes began to glow red, you wanted to look away, but it was as though something in them pulled you in. The other soul in you stirred, almost in recognition. Or repulsion.

Something was wrong with the Sahir.

“You felt my presence that night, that’s why you warned Minho, right?” when you didn’t respond, he pressed, “You felt the Nasanees before they came. Don’t you see? Our souls speak the same language.”

You had to get away. This Sahir wasn’t a normal one, something was very wrong. “Pardon me—”

“It’s the whisper of corruption, bloodlust, hell. Like calls to like—”

“Kafa! What do you know about the curse?” you snapped, letting your eyes blaze red threateningly. It only made Hyunjin smile, slow and cryptic. “Oh, I know more than you could imagine, demon girl.”

•؏•

“It seems that Han Jisung was right, for once in his life,” Minho remarked when he sensed his cousin’s presence nearby. He’d left the guest house for a breath of fresh air; it was becoming suffocating inside.

The moon had hidden that night, as if it knew of the events that would unfold and preferred to not witness them. The prince wished he could hide too, return to his palace and his normal life, and forget everything. No magic gemstones, no hellish monsters, and no half-Jinni princesses.

Was he frightened by what you had confessed? Not much. Overwhelmed could be a better word. He didn’t know what to make of this new information. You, who he thought he’d known throughout his life, turned out to be someone else.

Or not.

It conflicted him. You were still you, still his Amira, right? That had always been you, claws and horns, even if he’d never seen them before.

Then why did his heart hurt so much?

“I have no feelings for any of you,” Jeongin repeated your words with a shake of his head. He could almost sense the moment his cousin’s heart collapsed. “I’m sorry, Minho.”

Right, that.

It made perfect sense to the Amir, and he despised it. Your never-changing indifference toward him, your stiff behavior, his useless efforts — you were protecting him from yourself.

No matter what he did, you’d never open your heart to him. You couldn’t risk it.

What did you mean the previous night, then?

It was...unfair, and Minho knew it was silly of him to say. What were the odds of helplessly falling in love with a half-Jinni princess?

The prince sighed, letting his shoulders sag dejectedly, “La ba’as. I suppose we...were never meant to be.”

“Don’t say that...” Jeongin pursed his lips while giving him a sharp look. His cousin was never one to give up, not after a hundred dry smiles and nonchalant words. Something had always pushed him to return those smiles sincerely, to not let rejection bring his spirits down. But the light in his eyes dimmed, and for the first time ever, he looked truly defeated. He knew how much this certain defeat affected him.

“I’m sure there’s a way to fix this.”

Minho gave him a small, sad smile. It was visible despite the darkness of the night. “I’m not sure anymore, Jeongin.”

“But—”

“I think...I need some time to think about it.”

“Alright. I’ll give you some space then.” Jeongin gave in, biting his bottom lip as if keeping in anything he wanted to add. With one last look at Minho, he turned around to return to the guest house. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” the prince mumbled after him. He wasn’t sure if space was what he needed because it seemed to make his thoughts double in loudness.

Not meant for each other, the voice in his mocked. Should’ve lost hope long ago.

Perhaps it was time to lose hope and move on. Better now than wait for his heart to be crushed further.

Minho didn’t want to, but he would try to disregard his feelings.

You seemed to do a great job of that. It shouldn’t be too hard, right?

•؏•

It was impossible.

When Minho awakened the next day and caught sight of you, none of the previous night’s sentiments mattered. He knew he was being a fool, but he couldn’t leave his heart behind. At least, not so soon.

Who was he without loving you?

So, Minho carried his saif and resumed the journey, following you to wherever the Zumurruda guided you.

The sun wasn’t any kinder that day, but no enormous birds were to be seen and for that, you were grateful. You led your companions south, as the Zumurruda continued to compel you. It was a little worrying, as there were no marked villages along your way. You might have to spend the night in the open desert if no solutions came across your minds.

“Can’t you use your...powers to set camp when it’s time?” Jeongin wondered and you shook your head, “La. I can’t transform sand into a house.” It wasn’t a body part you could make weapons out of...

“Oh, well.” He puffed out his cheeks, slightly disappointed. You suppressed a smile. The tension from the previous day had lessened, which was a great relief. You weren’t sure you would be able to handle another suffocatingly silent walk. Although, Minho still didn’t say much.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Have none of you slept under the moon before?” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, missing the look exchanged between you and Jeongin. Royals don’t sleep in the open.

“No, we haven’t. But I suppose there’s nothing to worry about,” the younger royal said. “Y/n, you’ve got Minho, and I have my pouch to sleep on... It wouldn’t be so bad.”

You glared, and an embarrassed cough came from where Minho walked. It only made a mischievous grin grow on Jeongin’s lips.

Rolling your eyes dismissively, you shut your thoughts out before they became dangerous. “We might find a Waha along the way. There’s still a long day ahead of us.”

“Pray to the Aliha we do,” Jeongin muttered, raising his head to squint at the sun, “It’s formidably cold during the night.”

And you did. You wished in your heart for somewhere safe to spend the night at before lapsing into comfortable silence. The four of you traveled undisturbed for several hours, stopping to rest before continuing your seemingly endless route.

No signs of life crossed your path as the sun inched westward. No villages or caravans, not even a tree or a well. You’d begun to worry when the sky’s blue poured into a light purple, until a dark bush in the distance caught your attention. “There’s something ahead!”

It was too late for a mirage to fool you, and the closer you got, the clearer it became. The dark bush rose to become the tips of a cluster of palm trees. You’d found an oasis.

You found yourself rushing toward it as if it would slip away like a fragment of your imagination. Your prayers were answered after all. You wouldn’t have to sleep the night in the cruel cold.

The oasis wasn’t big, but neither was it small. You walked through several rows of trees before reaching the heart keeping them alive, a spring of water. It was more than you could’ve asked for.

Running to the water, Jeongin was the first to plunge his hands in and splash his face with it. Hyunjin disregarded him and found a palm tree to lean on while Minho stayed back, looking around before announcing, “I’ll gather tinder to light a fire.”

“I’ll join you.” Jeongin stood and unsheathed his saif. If Minho had given him a discouraging look, he didn’t see it before following him deeper into the oasis.

You were once more left alone with Hyunjin.

You decided to sit at the base of a tree a little away from the Sahir, still unsettled by his presence. Bringing out a bundle of tamir, you chewed on a piece to recharge when Hyunjin asked, “What kind of tinder are those two planning to collect with their suyoof?”

You took your time before swallowing your food and answering him nonchalantly, “I suppose they’ll be cutting some fronds from a low nakhla.”

The Sahir nodded wistfully before shaking his head as if in disbelief. “It still strikes me as a wonder why the two of them are accompanying you on this journey. You clearly don’t depend on them.”

You ignored him, instead taking notice of the thin crescent moon smiling at you from its reflection on the water. There’s some light tonight, you thought, mind wandering off to Minho’s and Jeongin’s whereabouts. You could hear the sound of branches being chopped off not too far away.

“Ignoring my questions only confirms my assumptions, y/n. You’re using them, aren’t you? What else would a half-Jinni want with useless humans?” Hyunjin pressed, almost as if desperately trying to dig out an evil plan from you. It was beginning to become annoying.

A ‘tsk’ left your lips as you rolled your eyes at him, knowing that he could clearly see you. “I am not using them, Hyunjin. They are my companions.”

“Companions? Pathetic,” the Sahir chuckled dryly. “Jeongin, I think I can understand, but the other one? What company does he provide exactly? All he does is brandish his saif around and glare. Or is it the face you’re keeping him around for?”

You didn’t understand it completely, but something about Hyunjin speaking about Minho that way bothered you. What did the Sahir know about him to talk like that?

You knew you were letting your emotions have the best of you when you replied bitterly, “He has a name, you know. And he’s my fiancé.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was lifting an eyebrow. His uncanny interest sent a chill up your spine.

The conversation was fortunately cut short when Minho arrived along with Jeongin, each carrying a few branches. They set on kindling the fire in no time, and a bright flame soon lit up the area. The shadows that danced on the palm trees were almost eerie, but that didn’t bother Jeongin as he plopped on the sand wearily, dropping his bag and sighing tiredly. He didn’t care to eat something before wishing you all a good night and dozing off almost immediately. You didn’t question his behavior, finding yourself eager to do just the same. If only the ever so faint ache in your heart would quiet down.

The cause of that ache, you knew, but found no courage to confront.

You weren’t a fool to deny that Minho’s silence bothered you more than it should’ve. It was as if he were purposely avoiding you, and if you were to be honest, you missed the meager talk you’d share with him.

You might never be able to talk to him normally again, just when things began to better. With that thought, you gave up on trying to fall asleep and took on gazing at the dotted sky. It had become so beguilingly silent that you would’ve missed the faint rustle of a sword running through sand. Almost.

You snapped your head in the direction of the sound, and that was when you noticed that on the other side of the spring, someone was awake.

Perhaps just as conflicted with thought as you were, Minho had chosen to lean on a tree away from the three of you. He, too, had trouble falling asleep.

He couldn’t see you like you’d seen him, clear and beautiful despite the dark. As he’d always been.

Looking around, you found that the Sahir was asleep, or at least seemed to be. You held your breath. That was your chance.

Gulping anxiously, you pushed yourself to your feet and walked carefully through the sand and around the glimmering eye of the spring. It didn’t take long for the prince to notice you, for he stopped playing with his saif and laid it on the ground gently. Something flashed in his eyes, unexplainable, when they rose to regard your approaching figure.

For a moment there, you hesitated. What if I’m doing the wrong thing? But that thought was shoved away by the words that fell out of your lips thoughtlessly. “May I sit?”

Minho’s response came in a whisper after a few beats of silence, as though he was in disbelief. “Of course.”

You mustered a weak smile, which went unseen, before sitting beside him on the hardened sand. You could see the fire flicker and wave at you from across the spring as if it were wishing you good luck. You needed it.

“Have you eaten?”

Your question was met with a shrug. “La... I’m not hungry.”

You hummed in acknowledgement before letting silence take you into its suffocating embrace. You’d run out of things to say, and you dreaded delving into the topic. But you knew that there was no escaping it, that this might be the only chance you’d get to talk in privacy, so you inhaled deeply and pushed down your worries.

What’s the worst that could happen anyway? You’d tried all what the universe had to offer.

“Do you remember Changmin?”

Minho was slightly taken aback by your question, but he nodded nonetheless, “Na’am. Why?”

He remembered your little brother. He was only a few months old when he was announced dead in an assassination. It was said that mourning over his death killed the Tallilmalekan Queen.

Your gaze was trained on the crescent in the sky as you spoke, letting yet another family secret free. “Ummi had done a great job with raising the three of us. She’d repressed her Jinni excellently. But with his birth...her biggest fear lived.”

The air stopped in Minho’s lungs when a ghastly realization struck about what you were telling him. Your little brother was not assassinated but rather—

“Perhaps she’d thought she was safe, so she let her heart loose,” you paused with a heavy sigh, “It was only a few months before we found her wailing over his lifeless body, covered in his blood. It...killed her.”

The Amir couldn’t speak. His tongue felt too heavy to lift. When you’d first explained the curse, he thought he’d encompassed the horror of it. He was wrong.

You sighed again, knowing that your story must’ve been unpleasant to hear. “I-I suppose what I’m trying to say is...asifa. I owe you an explanation for all that’s happening.”

When he remained quiet, you continued, “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, and there is some truth to them. We’ve kept the curse in our family for as long as we can remember and as a result, people began to take notice of our outside relations and political marriages. We can’t afford to torment more innocent people with the crimes of our ancestors. I-I know I can’t ask this of you, but I hope you would keep some understanding in your heart. I don’t want you to be hurt— I don’t want to hurt you.”

Minho would’ve thought he imagined the last few words had they not repeated in his head like a prayer. Suddenly, he felt like the most selfish prince to walk upon the land. There you were, worried that you’d hurt him, while he was letting his own heartbreak blind him. You didn’t choose to live that way, why was he putting the blame on you?

“You don’t have to apologize,” he spoke, startled by the strange rawness in his voice. “It’s not— it’s not your fault.”

You wanted to laugh as you brought your gaze down, but a shiny object caught your attention instead. The ring encircling the prince’s fourth finger reflected the thin moonlight elegantly, almost mocking in its pride. You didn’t recall seeing him without it ever since your engagement ceremony a couple of years ago. It made your heart lurch weirdly.

Looking back at your bare fingers, guilt crumbled like a brittle statue in your chest. La, you had a lot to apologize for. “It’s not that.

“Ever throughout our lives, I’ve made you feel unwanted for no apparent reason. You deserve much better than that, had fate not been so cruel. Asifa, for despite all my efforts, you are still in danger.”

“What do you mean?” Minho gulped, making you chuckle sardonically, “Have you tried fighting your heart before?”

You didn’t expect an answer, but you still paused before continuing, “It’s not easy... You don’t make it any easier either.”

When you’d spent your life cutting your conversations as short as can be, it felt almost liberating to speak with the prince for that long. You decided that maybe, you’d let your guard down for the night. Just this once.

But while you savored the sweetness of that momentary freedom, Minho felt as though he was running out of air. Was that a slight confession, or was exhaustion finally getting into his mind? He was glad you didn’t push for any responses from him, or else he might’ve said something undeniably foolish.

You had too much power over him, and he doubted you even knew.

“S-So,” the prince cleared his throat. He shouldn’t get too happy, not with the curse still holding you down. “that’s how it’ll stay?”

You didn’t have to ask to know that he meant the odd relationship the two of you had; hidden feelings and unrequited love. You smiled weakly, “La. There’s something...you should know.”

At that, Minho hummed, prompting you to proceed. And you did, with an undertone of excitement. “There is a way to break the curse.”

“The Sahira who created the curse had enchanted a stone heart to absorb all her magic when she dies. It is called the Sahira’s Heart, and it is hidden somewhere in the Isle of the damned.

“Shattering the Sahira’s Heart would destroy all the curses she’d laid. To find it, the Sahira created the Zumurruda.”

Minho was quick to put the pieces together and he concluded with newfound hope, “And the Zumurruda actually leads to the Sahira’s Heart.”

“Correct,” you nodded. “Many princes have tried finding it before me, but as you can see, none succeeded.”

“Why?”

“It’s a dangerous journey.”

“Why are you taking it then? Aren’t you...afraid?”

His question caught you off guard. Following the Zumurruda had always been a purpose you ran after. Never had you stopped to think about fear. Sure, you knew that the journey wasn’t a passing breeze, but were you afraid?

You shrugged, “La.”

“And I know you might be thinking that if the princes before me failed, I should know better than to follow the same route. But you must know that unlike those princes, I am willing to use my powers,” you exhaled, voice dropping to a murmur, “even if it costs me dearly.”

It was at that moment Minho knew that he would follow you to hell and back unhesitatingly. He was bound to you until the sky falls, and a curse won’t be changing that anytime. “I’ll be with you then, Amirati.”

You smiled, swiftly calming the ripple of flutters in your heart. “Shukran—”

The word stuck in your throat like pebbles in mud when a gust of unease slammed into you. Something was wrong.

No, something was approaching.

You stood with a start, eyes darting from one side to another in suffocating anticipation. This was different. Unlike the Afarit or the Nasanees, it felt big, and far more dangerous. Untamed.

Like calls to like, Hyunjin had said. That thing wasn’t your like.

It felt more like the complete opposite. The Jinni in you seemed almost...afraid.

Your sudden actions made Minho frown in concern, “Is something wrong—” he didn’t get to ask because right then, the ground rumbled, and you reached for him with an exclamation, “Look out!”

٦

The onyx horn appeared to glow in the night. You would’ve been in awe had it not been connected to a terrifying creature, and had it not made you feel lightheaded. This is not good.

The Mi’raj. None of the sketches you’d seen of it prepared you for the sheer horror of the monster. What seemed like an enormous rabbit had fur the color of Qahwa, claws that ripped from darkened paws, eyes that pulsed red, and a magnificent horn that crowned its head. It had an appearance that was so abominable that the Jinni in you repulsed in disgust...or fear.

The beast grunted as it lunged at the two of you, not sparing a moment for you to catch your breath. Pushing Minho out of the way, you threw yourself to the other side and scrambled to your feet when the Mi’raj halted to a stop.

You tasted sand, and Minho shouted above the commotion, “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know. Wake the rest!” You cried as you avoided a stab from the beast’s horn by a hair. You tried calling on to your powers, but it was like lighting a fire midst heartless wind.

It was of no use.

You resorted to running for your life when it caught the bottom of your cloak and ripped it apart. It followed you relentlessly as you stumbled along your way through the palm trees. But you could only run away for so long, and you knew that eventually, it would catch you. Desperation was beginning to savage your heart as helplessness closed in on you.

Why can’t you summon your powers? You opened the doors for your Jinni to take over, but it stayed hidden. It refused to make an appearance.

You were to deal with that monster alone.

That was the first time you’d felt genuine, raw fear, and you never wanted to experience it again. How ironic.

You thought you heard shouts coming from behind, but you couldn’t distinguish them from those in your mind. The Mi’raj seemed to target you alone, and you didn’t have to guess to know why. It, too, came for the Zumurruda.

The Zumurruda.

Oh.

An idea struck you like a splash of water under the blazing sun and you fidgeted to pull the gemstone out of your tunic. You made an abrupt turn, which resulted in the Mi’raj crashing into a few trees. This bought you a few seconds to hold the Zumurruda and call on to your powers again.

The Zumurruda was a relic of great power, and you thought that if you could pull its magic into yourself, you might be able to defeat the Mi’raj. You only had to figure out how to do that.

Your muscles burned from running in the sand, but you couldn’t give in to the pain. The Mi’raj was back on your trail sooner than you wished, but that didn’t matter because you found an opening in the Zumurruda’s pull. A loose thread, and you pulled at it eagerly.

You opened your soul to it, much like you did to welcome your Jinni powers. The Zumurruda’s magic felt cold, corrupt, and it would’ve made you shy away had you not been desperate for anything to save yourself.

You didn’t know if your hands had gotten cold, but the gemstone was suddenly too warm. Magic, so corrupted and viscous, seeped into your system. For a beat there, you realized the mistake you’d committed.

This was the same magic that cursed you and your family. The same magic that damned this land. It was evil. What had you taken in?

A terrible squeak behind you snapped you out of your thoughts and you lost your footing, tripping and twisting your ankle as you came face to face with the sand. But you had no time to dwell over the sharp pain, for the Mi’raj pounced on you with a haunting growl and you were plunged into numbness.

The Zumurruda was still in your hand when you shielded your face with your arms, ready to surrender to your cruel fate with closed eyes. Right then, you thought of home, of your mother and father, of your brother and sister.

You’d tried. You’d tried to end their misery once and for all, for them and for yourself. But that was the end of it all. You thought of Minho, and how heartless fate had been toward the two of you.

Perhaps that was it. That was the last act in the play of your fates.

It felt like an incomplete ending.

A ring of white light exploded from the Zumurruda upon contact with the tip of the Mi’raj’s horn, engulfing you in pure brilliance. For a moment there, you felt light, weightless, as though you were floating amid the clouds before falling back to the hard ground. You felt heavy then. Something pressed on your chest, narrowing your breaths to choked gasps.

Alive or dead, you couldn’t tell, but you caught the shouts that surrounded you before losing yourself to the forbidding darkness.

•؏•

Minho was sure his soul had left his body when he found you lying still under the lifeless body of the Mi’raj. He dropped the torch in his hand and fell to your side, helplessly trying to push off the monster and pull you out. Jeongin rushed to his aid instantly, while Hyunjin observed apathetically.

The three had been following you when a flash of light caught their attention. To the two royals, it was a clear indicator of your whereabouts, but to the Sahir, it was different news. A familiar energy was released with that light, and he was dreadfully aware of its source.

The Zumurruda.

You did something and it cost great magic.

After much struggling, Minho and Jeongin managed to drag your body away from the beast. That’s when Minho noticed something horribly wrong. A curse left his lips as his hands rested on your face in worried pats. “She’s cold— too cold. Bring the torch or anything, we need fire!”

Jeongin stood and hurried to the torch Minho had dropped earlier. It was dying out quickly, but he supposed that was better than nothing.

He brought it back to Minho, who had a hand placed on the side of your neck. There was a pulse, and he released a breath he’d been holding for too long. You’re alive.

Taking the torch from Jeongin, the prince noticed that the flame was getting smaller. It was barely enough to warm you up.

“What are you doing?” Jeongin eyed his cousin weirdly when he unraveled his litham, piled it on the ground, and dropped the flaming torch over it. The fire rose, and Minho responded casually, “We don’t have time to collect more tinder.”

“But what about your head—”

“I’ll be okay. Bring some water and bandages,” Minho dismissed his worries and knelt beside you again, pushing you to lie a little closer to the small fire. He checked for any obvious injuries and noticed that your left hand was bleeding profusely from a wound across your palm.

When he examined it closely, he noticed the shards of a green gemstone poking through the cut and with a grimace, he carefully removed them. The pieces were covered in blood, but they weren’t hard to recognize. They were pieces of—

“The Zumurruda.”

Minho snapped his head in the direction of the voice to find Hyunjin standing behind him, an unsettling expression illuminating his face as he peered at the broken pieces of the gemstone. Gripping the hilt of his sword, the prince stood to face him threateningly, “Stand back.”

“Oh, look who’s becoming angry,” Hyunjin raised a brow, “You know, you are in no place to pretend as though I am the villain here. You lied to me about the Zumurruda and now your fiancée broke it.”

The Sahir’s eyes began to glow red as his voice grew in depth. “If anyone were to be angry here it should be me, and you should’ve known better than to meddle around in—”

A sharp gasp followed by a coarse cough interrupted him, and Minho spent no time to return to your side and help you into a sitting position.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” he muttered, although it sounded as though he was reassuring himself instead. He had an arm wrapped around your shoulders to support you, while gently massaging your shoulders to encourage your body to relax. It was a method he’d learned from the royal medic.

Jeongin arrived right then, carrying a waterskin and the necessary supplies. The Sahir watched, silently seething, as the prince offered you water and his cousin tended to your wounded hand. You were mumbling incoherently, refusing water and treatment, but Minho was not giving in. “Y/n, please, you need to drink water.”

“B-But...” your words were slurred, as though the mere act of speech was a grueling effort you weren’t capable of. The prince’s tone was gentle, and it made Hyunjin’s skin crawl in disgust. Or envy. “You can say all you want, just have a sip of water first.”

You remained still for a moment, limply leaning on Minho for support, before weakly reaching out for the waterskin. Quickly noticing your efforts, your fiancé helped you lift the pouch to your lips.

The world slowly blinked into clarity after you took a long sip of water. It took you several moments to realize that Minho was almost holding you in an embrace, and while it made the Jinni inside you recoil, you didn’t wish to move. It was comfortable in ways you forbade yourself from indulging in.

Jeongin had finished bandaging your hand when you noticed shiny, green bits in the ground. Your weariness didn’t hinder you from recognizing it and you whispered, almost in disbelief, “The Zumurruda...”

“Yes, the Zumurruda,” came a voice, so dark and beguiling. The Sahir picked a shard from the ground and let it rest in the palm of his hand. “You broke it.”

At his words, you took in a breath that felt like doom. You’d broken the Zumurruda.

What had you done?

“I knew you had it, but I didn’t expect you to break it. If I’d known, I would’ve taken it from you, you foolish human!” Hyunjin’s fist curled over the green shard and the air began to crackle dangerously. The prince didn’t seem to notice that as he scowled. “Be quiet.”

“No, h-he’s right,” you managed to murmur. “I...broke it.”

“I’m sure there’s another explanation.”

“No, there is not!” Hyunjin advanced threateningly, eyes blazing red as though he was going to lay a deadly curse on the three of you. At that moment, Jeongin swiftly unsheathed his saif and held it against the Sahir’s neck. “I presume we told you to be quiet.”

Hyunjin glared at the young royal before rolling his eyes, “I suppose there is no point in arguing now, is there?”

A weak whisper came from you. “But how...will we find the Sahira’s Heart now?”

Jeongin frowned in confusion, “What?”

“See! It is truly a dilemma,” Hyunjin stepped away from the edge of the sword and clasped his hands behind his back. “How will we find the Sahira’s Heart?”

“Why do you care?” Minho scoffed, to which Hyunjin tutted, “We’ve been in this perilous journey together, I suppose I feel an obligation to finish it with you.”

You would’ve laughed at the prince’s exaggerated eye roll had you not been half conscious. “There’s...no point in resuming this journey...there is no Zumurruda t-to guide us...”

“Right, right,” the Sahir paused, pondering, before he smiled knowingly, “I might know of a way...”

“There’s a cave on the Isle of the Damned fabled to hide riches beyond one’s imagination.” Hyunjin’s tone was that of wonder as he spoke. “It is said that a Marid is trapped there, and it could grant its freer three wishes.”

Jeongin raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t that a mere legend?”

“Yes, but so are the Nasanees and the Rokh. It might as well be true.”

“Are we going to resume this journey relying on a legend?” Minho interjected, skepticism clear in his voice. “Are we sure this wouldn’t be a great waste of time?”

“Do you want to find the Sahira’s Heart or not?” Hyunjin argued. “You’ve already wasted time coming here then breaking the Zumurruda.”

“I don’t like repeating myself, ya Sahir,” the prince narrowed his eyes when Hyunjin brought up the broken gemstone once more. The latter ignored him, and you found it would be better to speak before an argument broke out. “The Sahir might be right. If we can...find this cave, then we might be able to wish for the Sahira’s Heart...”

“I suppose there’s something I am unaware of,” Jeongin cleared his throat, “What is this ‘Sahira’s Heart’?”

“I’ll explain to you later,” Minho answered him before turning his attention to you, “Are you sure you want to do this? We can also return home...”

You took in a quiet breath. After all that had happened in the past few days, you knew you weren’t ready to give up yet. “I still want...to try.”

“It is set then!” Hyunjin clasped his hands, appearing a tad bit too enthusiastic in comparison to his outburst a short while ago. “I’ll be seeing you by sunrise.”

The three of you gave him no response as he strode away, back to the heart of the oasis. Jeongin soon followed, after asking if his help was needed and gathering the supplies he brought. You found yourself alone with Minho again, much like you were an hour ago. Silence had finally settled around the two of you.

Your soul was at peace, which you thought was odd, considering the disaster dawning on you. You didn’t know what happened after you blacked out. The Zumurruda was broken, and months of planning were gone in a blink.

All you had left was faith in Hyunjin’s plan. Who would’ve thought you’d be trusting the Sahir after all?

Close to you, Minho found himself at peace too. Concern still nagged at the back of his mind, but with you alive and breathing in his arms, it became a hushed whisper. His heart didn’t hammer in his chest, as he’d expected it to if he were to ever hold you. Instead, it was calm, blissful. And selfishly, he wished that moment would last.

It wouldn’t, he knew.

A sigh left your lips, “Minho, I have to tell you...something.”

A hum encouraged you to continue. “I think...I absorbed the Zumurruda’s power.”

“What do you mean?” the prince sounded almost afraid.

“The Mi’raj, I couldn’t use my powers near it,” you recalled, “I...thought that if I could use the Zumurruda’s power I might be able to defeat it somehow. I-I don’t know what happened next but that broke it.”

You finally turned your gaze to where the Mi’raj lay. Only then did you take a good look at it and notice the substance of which its horn was made.

Abarmout Stone.

Things began to make sense suddenly. The precious stone was used to ward off evil, and it could only be found in the depths of Bahr Abarmout. Evils, such as your Jinni powers, were useless against it.

But not the Zumurruda. The Sahira’s powers were beyond hell and its devilry.

“I’ve made a big...mistake.”

“That was not a mistake,” Minho asserted. “You had to do anything to save yourself and if a meager rock was the cost, then so be it.”

“Well, whatever was in that meager rock is in my blood now.” A ghost of a laugh danced in your voice, though you hadn’t the heart to laugh. “I don’t know what this might mean but...you have the right to know what happened to the Zumurruda.”

“It’s alright. It doesn’t matter to me as it matters to others. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Asifa,” that was the only response you could utter, and it seemed to confuse the prince just as much. “Why?”

“For dragging you along this...aimless, perilous trek. I should’ve been doing this alone.”

At that moment, Minho was convinced you were rambling off due to exhaustion. Why else would you say something like that?

“Y/n,” he sighed, “I suggested to join you, and I wouldn’t take back my words for anything.”

“But—”

“I promise.”

You fell silent at that. There was no changing his mind.

“Can you walk?” Minho asked after a beat, and you brought your knees close to your body with a whisper, “I think so.”

Your shoulders felt cold when Minho removed his arm from around you to stand. He held a hand out for you, and you grabbed it reluctantly as you pushed yourself to your feet. The fire near you was dying out, but that didn’t explain the formidable cold you felt at your fingertips.

Nor the chill that pumped out of your heart.

•؏•

You reached Kahif Al Ghareeb after two days of wearying travel. The cave was situated at the base of one of the Isle’s great mountains, and Hyunjin claimed it was the fabled place.

You couldn’t deny the eeriness of the cave. There was magic inside, indeed. Perhaps, your journey won’t end in vain after all...

“This is the entrance?” Jeongin remarked loudly, raising an eyebrow at the enormous rock blocking the cave’s opening.

“Na’am. Does it not look like an entrance to you?” Hyunjin retorted, stepping toward the rocky barrier.

The three of you followed him. “Well, you can’t enter through it.”

“Not unless you say the magic words.”

“The what?”

“The magic words— have none of you heard the tale of Ali Baba?” the Sahir was both baffled and disappointed. You caught his low murmur of ‘people of this age’ and decided not to comment on it. “It’s a tale for a reason.”

“You, out of all people, shouldn’t be saying this,” Hyunjin shook his head. “You breathe magic.”

You disregarded him as Jeongin frowned, “So you’re implying that if we simply say ‘Iftah ya simsim’ the rock would miraculously mo—”

A rumble coming from within the mountain cut him off, and you wanted to laugh when the entrance cleared slowly as though the rock were a simple door. You’ve seen enough magic in the past days, a moving boulder shouldn’t have been a surprise.

Hyunjin’s expression was strangely smug as he strode into the dark cave. From your place, you could see mounds of what seemed to be gold and jewelry, strewn across the cave. It was unreal, even for a royal like you.

The Sahir stopped short and clasped his hands, muttering something before throwing them outward and illuminating the cave in the light of a thousand flames. You could hear Minho’s slow inhale of wonder when his gaze fell upon the treasures inside. “It’s real.”

“Everything is real,” Hyunjin shrugged. “Now will you continue to stand there like fools, or will you step in?”

“Right,” the prince muttered before walking toward the Sahir. You and Jeongin followed.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” you hid your awe as you came to stand beside Hyunjin. The unnerving energy around him had become less unsettling in the past couple of days. He gave you a cryptic smile, “You could do anything if you stop trying to be so human.”

Before you could respond to that, Minho questioned, “What do we do now?”

“We look for the Marid’s lamp,” the Sahir answered matter-of-factly.

“Amid all this? That would be impossible.”

“Well, not impossible per se,” Hyunjin crossed his arms, pondering for a short while before announcing, “My instincts tell me we should look in the far left corner of the cave.”

Minho rolled his eyes sarcastically and directed his attention toward you, “What do you say?”

“I don’t know. I suppose we look wherever Hyunjin says to begin,” you shrugged, and so the four of you began the long search.

It was almost impossible, as the prince complained, for there was much to sift through and you had no map to guide you.

Almost.

You noticed the strange pull the closer you neared the corner at which Hyunjin pointed. Magic. And you could feel it like you felt the approach of the Afarit and the Nasanees. You relied on that inner compass.

Your search was approaching no advancements when you heard commotion by the entrance of the cave. You noticed it first, the sound of loud conversation and the thumping of hooves.

You weren’t alone.

Soon enough, Minho and Jeongin noticed it too and shared alarmed looks. The Sahir seemed unbothered.

“What do you mean the Zumurruda is gone too? First the Rokh, then the Mi’raj, and now this?!” you could make out an angry exclamation and your heart dropped in realization. They must be the people who sent all those monsters to attack you and retrieve the Zumurruda. They jeopardized your life, Minho’s, and Jeongin’s throughout the past days.

The coincidence was perturbing, and you truly weren’t prepared for another fight.

“Wait!” the shout was closer. “The entrance is open— someone’s here!”

Minho unsheathed his saif, “I’ll go settle this—”

You placed a hand on his arm to keep him from moving. “Stay here. I don’t know what they are capable of.”

“Oh, stop worrying. It’s probably a band of harmless thieves,” Hyunjin said with a dismissive wave of his hand, to which you scowled, whispering, “These “thieves” are the same people who sent that Rokh to attack us! Didn’t you hear?”

He spared you a second-long glance and shrugged, continuing to look through a treasure chest.

You wished you could smack him.

“Quick! Search the cave!” a command from who you assumed was the leader sounded across the cave and Minho gave you a desperate look, “I can’t just sit here, they’ll find us eventually!”

When you didn’t budge, he reasoned, “Let me and Jeongin distract them while you search for the lamp. Them finding the two of us is better than finding us all.”

“He’s right,” Jeongin interjected and you had to sigh in exasperation. “What if they outnumber you and your distraction doesn’t help us? These people are dangerous.”

“More dangerous than the Nasanees?” the prince suggested.

“I don’t know, maybe!”

“Trust us, y/n,” he paused, as if contemplating his next words before sighing, “Just focus on finding the lamp, and we’ll get out of here.”

Your heart screamed at you to deny his request, but your mind propelled you otherwise. Minho’s plan did seem like the best thing to do. Though, you had a feeling you would regret the words that fell from your mouth. “Fine. Be safe.”

٧

It wasn’t long after Minho and Jeongin snuck away did you hear a stranger shout, “I’ve found them!”

You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand and find the lamp, but it proved to be impossible. With the shouts and the clashing of swords invading every comprehensible thought of yours, you couldn’t keep your mind off the prince and his cousin. If those thieves had the means to summon a Rokh, then you were justifiably concerned for the safety of your companions.

Concerned enough to miss the growing pull of magic that was tugging at your soul.

“I think— y/n!” the Sahir brought you out of your thoughts and you blinked at him distractedly, “Na’am?”

“Focus, will you? Can’t you feel where the lamp lies?”

“I think so,” you drawled.

“Then what is it telling you? Why aren’t you doing anything?!”

“I—” you turned to face him, eyes wide in fear. “Asifa. I have to help them.”

“La! We need to find the lamp!” Hyunjin called after you, but you couldn’t hear him as you made your way toward the commotion. You found them, a large group of bandits teamed against the two Darilmalekan royals. It wasn’t an ordinary fight, for they appeared to want to kill with each swing of their swords. They were like a pack of wild hounds.

A familiar presence within you awakened at the scene, bloodthirsty.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a man wrapped in black advance on a distracted Jeongin with his saif raised. To your sheer horror, he brought his sword down on the unsuspecting royal’s head, eliciting a chilling cry from him. It reverberated within your bones, numbing your limbs, stealing your voice, and throwing your world into mayhem. In a moment of weakness, Minho turned toward his fallen cousin. His assailants were quick to take advantage of his distraction.

The flash of swords was the last you saw before your vision dipped into blood and you found yourself tearing through the bandits in a haze.

Your clawed hands burned with bright flames as they ravaged anything and everything within their reach. You couldn’t discern your enemies from your friends, all were the same in the eyes of your Jinni. Prey.

You didn’t feel it, but the cave shook with the fury that pulsed in your heart. Your blind carnage didn’t last long, for many escaped or hid. Most, but one.

He stood, saif in hand, as he called on his bandits, “You fools! You’ve seen worse monsters!”

A flicker of thought crossed your mind. He must be their leader.

A new spark of rage ignited in your soul, and in a beat, you were grabbing his neck and throwing him into a pile of gold. Blisters were appearing on his neck in place of your blazing grip, but you felt no remorse as you proceeded toward him again.

His scream of horror went unheard when your clawed hand covered his face, digging into the skin mercilessly. When you spoke, it wasn’t your voice. “Y-You.”

You dragged your hand downward, slow and torturous. This time, his screams were loud enough to pierce the veil of bloodlust clouding your mind, but what stopped you was the arm that swung against your neck and pulled you backward. Instinctively, you pushed your attacker off, sending him hurtling across the clearing. You’d let go of the bandits’ leader and turned around to look at who you pushed, locking gazes.

You saw it then.

Fear.

And your senses crashed back into you with a horrified gasp. Blood had lathered your arms and tinted your clothes, but you only cared to rush to his side. “Minho!”

He didn’t struggle to sit upright, although you noticed he clutched his right arm with a grimace. His eyes were glazed over when you dropped to your knees beside him, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Minho shook his head, seemingly elsewhere, “Where’s Jeongin?”

Jeongin. You stood with a start, looking around frantically and praying to all the Aliha he didn’t fall victim to your Jinni’s violence. You spotted him lying on the ground, limbs sprawled lifelessly, resting on a blanket of his own blood. Minho trailed behind you, and when he saw his dear cousin, he fell to his side with a choked sob. His hands roamed his face, trying, searching for some hope.

You didn’t find it in you to stand any closer. Death was looming around you, and you refused to let it take Jeongin away. There must be a way to fix this. There must be something—

“Well, at least some of us did something useful while you hooligans wasted your time brawling with bandits,” came Hyunjin’s voice from behind. You snapped around to face him, noticing the golden lamp he tossed between his hands. Hope burst through your heart. “You found it.”

Minho let his attention wander to the Sahir at your words. He, too, recognized the shiny artifact.

Hyunjin shrugged, tossing it toward an attentive Minho, “Of course I did. Now do with it what you please, we haven’t gotten all day.”

You were too elated by the discovery to question the Sahir’s words or intentions, urging the prince to summon the Marid instead, “Go on, we can save him!”

Minho didn’t think twice before rubbing the side of the lamp, desperate for anything to save his cousin. You watched as smoke swirled out of the mouth of the lamp, circling the air until it formed the torso and the head of a man. Tinged purple, the Marid with great dark hair and golden cuffs bowed to its freer. “Shubbaek Lubbaek. You, who has summoned me, are granted three wishes of your heart’s true desire.”

There was no time to marvel at the magnificence of the magical being, not when Jeongin was dying before the prince’s eyes. He cried to the Marid, “Please, save him! Bring him back to us!”

“Is that your first wish?” The Marid’s voice boomed throughout the cave as though it came from the depths of the ground.

“Yes!”

“Your wish is my command.”

When you looked back at Jeongin, the bleeding cut across his head had disappeared, almost like it never was there. His wounds, gone, and instead of lifeless, he seemed to be peacefully asleep.

You didn’t miss the tears brimming Minho’s eyes as a sigh tangled with a chuckle left his lips, “I-It’s real he’s—!”

Minho halted mid-sentence, letting out a strangled noise as his eyes widened in shock and his world lapsed into eerie silence. His gaze drifted downward slowly until it met the tip of the saif poking out of his chest, scarlet with his blood.

٨

“It has been five days!” Changbin slammed a hand on the table, where many advisors and the Darilmalekan King sat. They were feeding him more empty promises, he knew, and the Tallilmalekan Crown Prince had had quite enough. “Five days and there’s not a single trace of them!”

The King narrowed his eyes. He, too, had enough of your brother’s stubbornness. “We are aware. Our scouts—”

“Your scouts are doing an unsatisfactory job,” Changbin remarked. “They shouldn’t be taking this long to find them.”

“Pardon us, then. This is the most we can do.”

“Fine,” the prince threw his hands in the air, “we’ll be bringing our own forces to search for them.”

The Darilmalekan King sighed, “Please, be reasonable.”

“Reasonable? After your Crown Prince ran away with the Amira? That’s quite ambitious of you to request—”

“Your Highness!” a guard barged into the meeting room, gasping for air. “Apologies, but we’ve received important news.”

“Proceed,” the king nodded to him.

“A traveler claimed to have spotted the crown prince, along with prince Jeongin and the princess in a village in the Isle of the Damned,” he informed, and Changbin hoped he masked his surprise well.

“The Isle of the Damned? Whatever brought them there?” the King questioned. Changbin knew just why.

You were seeking the Sahira’s Heart. He shook his head inwardly, though he couldn’t suppress the faint pride he felt. Never knew you had it in you, little sister.

•؏•

“I’ll take that.” Hyunjin leaned to grab the lamp in Minho’s loose grip before pulling out the saif forcefully and tossing it to the side. That action made the prince double over and almost collapse on Jeongin’s body, had you not caught him in time. It all happened too quickly, and you found yourself lost amid confusion, betrayal, and anger.

Your breaths shook as you felt Minho become weaker in your arms. He tried to push himself up, but his efforts were to no avail. The blood gushing out of the wound was enough to determine his cruel fate.

Your gaze snapped toward the Sahir and you cried in a blur of emotions, “Why would you do that?!”

He gave you a scornful glance, “For what reasons beyond the obvious?”

“You gave him the lamp!”

“You really aren’t as smart as you appear,” he turned to fully face you, and you thought you imagined the sneer of a demon in his face. “Good magic doesn’t respond to us, spawns of the Devil.”

“You—” you paused when you caught Minho’s frail murmur, “Let...me down.”

You could only oblige, even though you didn’t want to let him go. Helping him rest his head on the rocky ground, anger began to invade your heart, stronger than ever.

You stood to face Hyunjin again, and he shook his head at your appearance, “Would you look at yourself...lathered in blood and desperate to kill. When will you learn to stop chasing human desires?”

“What do you want with the lamp? You said it wouldn’t respond to your magic, and the Marid will only listen to its master,” you ignored his question, having grown tired of his cryptic speech. Human desires?

“It wouldn’t respond to my magic if I were to summon the Marid. Fortunately, your fiancé did the job. Manipulation is an easy feat after that.” Hyunjin was apathetic, you’d noticed that days ago, and you’d finally decided you’d had enough of the Sahir. “And?”

“And,” he scowled, “since you’ve broken the Zumurruda, this is my only means of getting what I truly want! Revenge on all those who killed her!”

You raised a brow, “Revenge?”

He seemed to have said something you weren’t supposed to know, but he dismissed it quickly, “It matters not. I was planning to kill the three of you anyway. It’s too bad you had to save the meddling one, but it shouldn’t be too hard to undo your wish.”

“You will not lay a single finger on them,” you warned, eyes beginning to blaze red. The Sahir noticed and shook his head once more, “I truly don’t understand what you want with them. Why are you doing this? Love? You’ve got more power than to care about something so human and weak.”

You didn’t miss the scorn in his tone. He seemed offended, hurt, and you couldn’t tell why. Why would a powerful Sahir have a personal grudge against...love?

Then you remembered his previous remarks. People of this age. It’s the whisper of corruption, bloodlust, hell. Like calls to like...

It seemed like a stray guess, but you blurted, “You’ve lost a lover, haven’t you?”

Hyunjin froze at your words, then his expression darkened as he spat, “I didn’t lose her, they took her from me! They killed her. But I’ve sought the Sahira’s Heart for too long. Nothing you can do will stop me, demon girl. I know all your tricks.”

Too long, his words echoed in your head, and various instances came rushing to you, forming one, big, clue. I know more than you could imagine.

A killed lover, magic, the Devil, and unsettling energy. The strange feeling you’ve had about him. His presence had always felt wrong, off.

Then it clicked.

The charm.

As though responding to your thoughts, a surge of cold magic rushed to your fingertips and you dared to meet the Sahir’s gaze. “You don’t know all my tricks.”

You thrust a hand forward and pulled the precious pendant to yourself. You didn’t know where that power came from, cold in comparison to the burning wrath of your Jinni, but it flowed through your blood with ease. As though it was yours, and you were always meant to have it.

The necklace moved at your will, and with a tug, it snapped from around Hyunjin’s neck and flew into your open hand.

This drew an immediate gasp from the Sahir, who wasted no time to shout, “Give it back!”

You examined the heavy pendant in your hand. It was made of glass, and a strand of hair was trapped inside. You shook your head in disbelief at the discovery. Hyunjin... Prince Hyunjin. The Lost Prince of Tajilmalek…

You looked back at him, “Two hundred years...”

“Return the pendant, or else I’ll have to retrieve it myself,” he threatened, but it didn’t faze you. “You, too, are doing this for love. You’ve been so for two long centuries.”

If the tales were true, then what you held encompassed the Sahir’s soul. It seemed to be, for he was adamant on having it back. You felt some sympathy for him. “You shouldn’t be alive.”

“Drop the pendant,” he enunciated, though his desperation was clawing its way through his words.

Two hundred years of nurturing his anger and despair, of living with the pain of loss. No, you felt great sympathy for him. “You should rest, now.”

“La—!” Hyunjin’s face morphed into an expression of horror and distress, but it was too late. You’d closed your fist on the pendant, and with newfound power, crushed it in your grasp.

A cry that shook the ground left the Sahir as he visibly crumbled before you, delicate features deepening into age worn wrinkles, an elegant figure declining to crookedness, until all what remained of him was a pile of rubble.

You mustered a weak smile, stepping toward the mass and dropping the broken pieces of the pendant over it. “May you find peace.”

Perhaps you should’ve felt some guilt for defeating the Sahir, but any guilt in your heart was not regarding him. You picked up the lamp that fell beside the rubble and shook it, calling, “Ya Marid!”

The Marid materialized before you. “Shubbaek Lubbaek.”

You didn’t spare a moment to plead, gesturing toward the dying prince, “You have to save him!”

“Apologies, for I only grant my master’s wishes.”

“Well, he is your master, and he is dying. If you don’t save him, the wishes will never be said, and you will never be freed!”

The Marid contemplated your words, but it didn’t take long for him to nod in approval, “Very well. You make an excellent plea.”

You assumed that meant the prince was saved, so you rushed to his side. The tinge of blood remained on your hands and you didn’t dare to touch him, resorting to examining his face and asking the Marid, “Is he okay now?”

“He is asleep, as is your friend. They must rest, so do you,” the Marid responded and you shook your head, “I cannot rest. Not now.”

How could you rest after what had happened?

The Marid seemed to think otherwise. He rose in the air, basking the cave in dim violet light. When he spoke, your eyelids began to droop dangerously. “Rest, troubled soul. No harm shall reach you.”

You wanted to argue, but your head felt heavy, and the doors of slumber were wide open for you to give in. A strange sense of peace washed over you, and you knew it was the Marid’s work. Too weak to fight it, you lowered your head to the ground, bloodied attire and limbs, and allowed yourself a short retirement from the chaos of your world. Just that once.

•؏•

You woke to the incessant scratch of metal against rock and low murmuring. You cracked an eye open to spot a figure sitting some distance away, fiddling with a sword. When you pushed yourself up, your muscles cried in excruciation. Only when you felt the stickiness of blood on your hands did you remember the happenings before your slumber. Finding the cave, searching for a magical lamp, fighting bandits, defeating Hyunjin, Minho almost—

“You’re up.”

His voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked up to meet his eyes, sighing in relief when you found him unharmed. A presence within you wasn’t as appreciative of the news. “You’re alive.”

“I am,” the prince looked away, and you didn’t have to follow his gaze to know that it was trailing over the dismembered, disfigured bodies of the victims of your blind rage. Your Jinni’s rage.

The word left your lips before you could process it, “Asifa. I-I lost control.”

“They wanted to kill us,” the prince shook his head, repulsed by the events of the past hours. It felt like a nightmare, from Jeongin’s fatal injury, to you ripping apart anyone within your range, to the sword that stabbed him through the chest, he was unsure how he remained alive. He remembered falling into your arms, and Hyunjin’s voice as he took the lamp from him, but that was all.

He was reluctant to know what happened to the Sahir, but he couldn’t find his body wherever he looked. “What happened to Hyunjin?”

You took moments to answer him, and he knew that was a story you didn’t want to tell. “He’s gone.”

Truth to be said, Minho was not appalled by your actions, for he knew that it wasn’t you. It was yet another day you’d saved him and his cousin with your powers. He couldn’t bring himself to show aversion to the decisions you had to make.

After all, there was no heart in war.

“Where’s Jeongin?” you asked when you noticed that the young royal wasn’t nearby. Minho responded almost immediately, “He went outside for a breath of fresh air.”

A breath of fresh air, of course. Why would anyone in their right mind stay in a cave that felt like death? You sighed, “You should return to the palace.”

“What?” the prince snapped his gaze toward you, both shocked and confused. You took a deep breath and shook your head in dismay, “After what happened, I think...I think it’s best for you and Jeongin to return to the palace.”

“We can’t do that...”

“You were almost killed, Minho!” you couldn’t help your outburst. “I can’t do this knowing that the two of you are in constant danger of death for the sake of breaking a curse.”

“What about you, then?” the prince argued, “You’re in constant danger too.”

“La. You and I are different. I can do this alone.”

“But— we’ve come this far together! We survived all those attacks and we even have the lamp with us!”

“I just don’t want this to happen again,” you gestured at your surroundings, and Minho was quick to assure you, “It won’t happen again.”

He picked up the lamp and placed it before you, holding your gaze firmly when you gave him a dubious look. “We have two wishes left. We finish this now. Together.”

٩

“This is the closest I can take you to the Sahira’s Heart,” the Marid announced after the smoke surrounding the three of you cleared up. You found yourselves standing before an ancient temple, surrounded by the sea on all sides. “The temple is guarded by magic I cannot surpass.”

“Where are we?” Jeongin wondered out loud to be answered by the Marid, “You are on an island south of the Isle of the Damned known as Al Qa’a.”

“This is the place, then,” Minho let out a breath and turned to look at you, taking notice of your silence. His tone dropped many levels gentler. “Ready?”

You took in a breath. This was the place many have died to reach. This was where you would finally regain freedom from your curse. Truthfully, you didn’t know if you were ready. “I think so.”

“You have one wish remaining,” the Marid reminded before slipping back into the lamp Minho had looped through his sheath belt.

The three of you stood still, perhaps waiting, or preparing, to make the first step toward the end of this journey. The prince dared to move forward, but once he did, the ground rumbled and quaked, and you sensed the arrival of something dangerous.

From the sand, two magnificent Afarit emerged. They were unlike the ones you encountered in the palace. Their skin glistened grey, and they were fairly larger in size, but not too tough of a match.

The Darilmalekan royals unsheathed their swords instantly, and a plan had formed in Minho’s head as he examined the monsters. “We’ll hold them back. You slip past them and find the Sahira’s Heart.”

“But don’t you think I should help you instead—” your suggestion was interrupted by a shake of his head, “La. You have to find the Sahira’s Heart and break the curse, not me nor Jeongin. This is your part—”

A howl from one of the Afarit pierced your ears as it brought its axe down on the two of you. You were lucky to dodge the attack, but it was clear the Afarit were not planning to be patient with the three of you. You caught Minho’s shout above the commotion, “Go on! We’ll distract them!”

You knew that every second of hesitation was crucial time wasted, so you ran past the occupied Afarit toward the open doors of the temple. You dared to glance back one last time, finding your fiancé and his cousin true to their promise of holding the Afarit back. You wouldn’t let their efforts fall in vain.

With newfound will, you ran through the open doors into a dark corridor. You saw light on the other side, and you took off running toward it. Exhilaration mixed with hope and pinch of anxiety overwhelmed your mind. Will you find the Sahira’s Heart by the end of the corridor? The end to it all was terrifyingly close.

You reached a roofless clearing where the corridor led. It was empty, and moss had overrun its walls, but all you could see was the stone plinth, and the stone heart resting atop it.

Sounds of the fight outside drowned out as you stepped toward the artifact cautiously. This was the fabled Sahira’s Heart. This held all the corruption on the Isle. This held your family’s curse.

Finally.

You placed your palms on either side of the heart and lifted it, bracing yourself for whatever might happen in the following moments. You’d prepared to do it for countless hours, but breaking the Sahira’s Heart felt unreal when you stood there.

Shutting your thoughts out, you closed your eyes and focused on channeling all your power into the stone, just as you’d practiced under the gaze of the nonchalant moon. You forced it to flow through your fingertips and into the rock heart, then expand and push against the walls of the stone.

It seemed like forever until you heard the first crack, followed by a second and a third, and suddenly, your world exploded into blinding brilliance.

•؏•

Minho knew, he felt it in his heart, when white light exploded from the temple. You’d done it.

The Afarit halted, axes raised, and dropped to the ground lifelessly before disappearing into grains of sand. As though they’d never been there.

The prince sheathed his saif while attempting to calm his erratic breaths. Not too far, his cousin was doubled over a wound on his side, trying to tighten a piece of his attire over it. Minho called over to him, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” came his response. “We should go see y/n!”

And so, the two walked up to the temple and through its long corridor to reach the sunlit chamber, where they found you lying on the ground. Still. Pieces of broken stone lay scattered around you.

Panic rose in Minho’s heart, but it was quickly erased when he noticed the steady rise and fall of your chest. You were alive.

He came to sit beside you, smiling to himself as he murmured, “You’ve done it, Amirati. You really did.”

Jeongin rested a hand on his cousin’s shoulder, “Let’s go home.”

“Right.” Minho reached for the lamp, patting it and watching as the purple smoke swirled in the air to form the Marid’s body. “Shubbaek Lubbaek. Are you ready to make your last wish?”

The prince smiled, “Yes. Take us to the Darilmalekan palace...and let everyone there but us forget we were ever gone.”

“Is that your wish?”

He did not hesitate. “Na’am.”

The Marid bowed his head, and with a wave of his hands, the three of you were engulfed in the same purple smoke. “Your wish is my command.”

After.

“Big day today, eh?” Jeongin stepped up from behind his cousin, who gave him a small grin, “It sure is.”

It was a big day, indeed, for it was the day your caravan from Tallilmalek arrives, after two long months of absence.

When the Marid transported the three of you into the royal garden, you quickly parted ways. With the curse broken, you had to return to Tallilmalek along with your brother. Royals, nobles, and palace staff were confused about your sudden departure, but a scroll from the Tallilmalekan palace was enough justification.

While you were gone, you made sure to keep Minho updated on your state of wellbeing. It was an obligation neither asserted, but both of you committed to. The journey had undoubtedly brought you closer, and being finally free, you thought you must make up for the lost time.

Healing and learning to live without the curse was tough, as you’d written to the prince. Old habits were hard to kill, especially when they’d been the basis of life for your family for decades. But you were getting there, a small step at a time.

Two months later, the Tallilmalekan royal family sent a messenger carrying news that brought life to the palace once more. You were ready to carry on with the wedding.

It was a big day. The kind that made Minho’s heart flutter in excitement and dance in joy. It felt like a Deja Vu, standing in the throne room to welcome you to Darilmalek. Only this time, your arrival carried true promises to be kept.

“Still haughty as ever,” Jeongin commented once the Tallilmalekan King stepped in, followed by you and your brother. Minho rolled his eyes in response, masking a smile, “Shut up.”

Jeongin might’ve been right, your family loved to display their riches, but it wasn’t the jewelry nor the pearls that shone with your entrance. It was the little smile adorning your lips. As gentle as the night breeze, but as breathtaking as a starry sky.

When you came to stand before him, offering your hand, that smile grew, ever so faintly. And that was enough for the prince, who mirrored your expression, only many times brighter. “Welcome back, Amirati.”

•؏•

People do strange things for love...

You stared at your journal, unsure of what to conclude with, when a voice came from behind. “Thought I’d find you here.”

“Minho,” you shut your journal carefully, turning your head to watch as he stepped toward the balustrade, “what are you doing here, up this late?”

“The same question goes to you,” his lips stretched into a soft smile when you came to stand beside him. It was the only time you’d had for yourself that day. Preparations for the wedding were consuming every moment of daylight, from the very second you woke until the blanket of night covered the land. You were lucky to be able to enjoy one last night in the palace garden before the ceremony. “I’m finishing my journal.”

Minho hummed in acknowledgement. You were documenting your journey to the Sahira’s Heart, and all that came after. It was a very confidential journal, as you’d told him, and the prince had long given up on trying to have a peek at it.

A gentle breeze blew past the two of you, complementing the tranquility of the night. A few moments of peace prompted you to speak, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Right,” the prince exhaled quietly as though preparing himself for a speech or an important event of such sort. He turned to face you fully, and only then did you notice the small golden box in his hands. Under the timid shine of the moon, he appeared almost shy. “I have something for you.”

When you gave him a curious look, he placed the case on the balustrade and opened it, clearing his throat, “I know our beginning wasn’t exactly...ideal, and for the longest time, uncontrollable circumstances stood between us.”

“But tomorrow,” he met your gaze, “things...change.”

Your gaze followed his movements attentively, every anxious bite of his lip and fidgety gesture of his hand. A quiet part of you wanted to ease his nervousness, but you were yet to learn how. All you could do was give him an encouraging smile.

But your smile did wonders, as Minho had come to discover, and a bigger smile found home on his lips in turn. The thin thread between nervousness and excitement snapped, and he dared to present to you a gift he’d longed to give. “I just wanted you to know this before our wedding...”

He held a delicate diadem made of gracefully laced strands of gold encircling dainty pearls. Even in the dark of night, its beauty glowed. It brought the stars above to shame.

Your gaze was fixed on him when he placed the circlet on your head and smiled to himself. La, you thought it was his beauty that brought the stars to shame. There, in that fleeting moment, you spotted the gleam of pure joy and adoration in his eyes. It was the most stunning thing you’d ever seen. 

His hands found yours, and with a gentle squeeze, he spoke his promise for the heavens above to hear. “No matter how long it takes you to adjust to this life, I’ll wait for you, my queen. Always.”

People did strange things for love, though I can’t blame them.

In the end, it proved to be worth it.

Al Amira y/n of Tallilmalek.

If you have read this far then you are contractually obligated to tell me your thoughts! Well, not really, but do drop by sometime! Thank you for reading and I hope you have a lovely day! ♡

[evilvarric666-archive]

that post about self sacrifice narratives made me think of how da accidentally goes a step further and ends up (in part) being a cautionary tale about self sacrifice, or rather showing people the other side of self sacrifice and the ugly side of the glorification of martyrdom. like im not going to mention it all, but take dao as an example. the figure of the warden/hero necessarily originates from sacrifice (except in the brosca origin where brosca's life was already permeated by sacrifice, and the figure of the warden is born not from sacrifice or tragedy, but from both this sense of chance or destiny, rage and revenge, which is VERY interesting to me but i dont want to go off topic), and the game seems to constantly insist on the idea of glorifying sacrifice "for a good cause". this is not alarming to the audience, because its something constantly seen in other similar mainstream narratives: the someone sacrifices themselves for the greater good and everyone is better off because of that sacrifice. because a narrative that shows the good and virtuous side of sacrifice for a greater purpose is useful, so why would they bother to explore how inhuman it is to ask someone to give up their life, how painful it is to resign oneself to misery so others can live. they never make you think about the person behind the act, they take advantage of the distance of the audience, they dehumanize the figure of the martyr to make them perfect and virtuous to further a certain narrative, and they focus on showing the "bigger picture" to promote a certain message. but there are instances where the game tries to show the player some hidden cracks in that particular "self sacrifice is noble act" ideology. the issue is that they are fairly easy to ignore. we can choose to ignore the fucked up-ness behind the deaths of the recruits during the joining because they happened to further a greater cause. we can ignore the grief of the families that have lost loved ones in battle because thats what happens during war and there's nothing anyone can do about it. we distance ourselves from the grief and misery of martyrdom by glorifying the heroes that sacrifice everything, distance ourselves from the messed up inhuman nature of the idea of asking a person to sacrifice their life in exchange for the lives of others, because we're playing a game, we truly don't risk anything, and we dont have to give up our lives, so its easy for us to mantain this idea of "sacrifice=good" and even easier to get influenced to carry that idea into real life and see it as a virtue. to think only of the heroic part. but if we choose to go through with the dark ritual, the game instantly turns the tables on us, gets personal, and forces us to pay attention to the misery and pain, the unfairness and the helplessness, the mutual suffering that self sacrifice truly entails, using the only person we can't completely help or "save": morrigan(1/2)

(putting the rest under a readmore bc it's long but OH MY GOD?)

(2/3) For someone like morrigan who's had to fight tooth and nail all her life just to survive in a wild and hostile environment with not a word of kindness or a helping hand ever being offered to her, for someone like morrigan who had to learn that she could trust no one but herself ever, that the world was a cruel savage place and the only way to survive it was to be just as cruel, cunning and manipulative, that was certain that love and friendship were illnesses experienced by fools who were looking for a quick death or betrayal or worse, that fully believed that having power over everyone acquired through any means so that she couldnt be hurt or taken advantage of was the only important thing in life, for someone like morrigan who finally got the chance to make her seemingly impossible dreams come true and also be in a relatively safe position for the first time in her life, who finally got to experience love and care from others and mutual companionship, friendship and selflessness, and finally was part of a real "family" for the first time in her life, to give up ALL THAT and her own freedom simply for the sake of another person, without getting any real reward or benefit from it, when she could've just thrown everyone under the bus like she'd been taught all her life and lived safely the way she'd ALWAYS wanted? thats messed up and painful to experience, and made even more painful by the knowledge that the warden can only watch, because nothing they say will make her not sacrifice herself. and she'd be the perfect martyr, the perfect example of the virtue in sacrifice if only the whole thing was seen from a distance, if it wasnt for the warden/player getting to see firsthand and personal how terrifying, fucked up and unfair the whole situation is, for both them who are on the receiving end and for morrigan, but mainly for morrigan. morrigan, whose life has been nothing short of miserable, choosing to give up and destroy her own dreams, choosing the prospecy of misery and loneliness, choosing to be far away from the world she loves, choosing to GIVE UP HER LIFE IN THEIR WORLD to let someone she loves live happily and safely, even despite all the pain and grief that separation and sacrifice cause in her heart. she gives up EVERYTHING WILLFULLY for ANOTHER PERSON'S SAKE, she puts the life of another before her own in the most absolute and painful of ways, going aganist every painful lesson in her life, solely because of love.

(3/3) theres just no bigger sacrifice than what she did. to not only go aganist everything youve been taught and completely believed all your life, but also to sacrifice yourself and decide to face the idea of not death, but the idea of a life of pain and loneliness again, a life with little to no benefits for which you had to give up everything you wanted, a life that includes the terrifying reality of having to give birth to and raise a child, alone, with all the trauma morrigan has surrounding the idea of that particular experience, just for the sake of another person that only offered you love and friendship for a short moment in your life? it's the biggest declaration of love for another being that could ever be made, and it's the most messed up thing ever because it speaks volumes about how starved morrigan was, how messed up her love is for her to consider that one chance given to her by another person, that hand extended towards her, that moment of friendship, love and kindness, worthy of sacrificing ten years of her life and her dreams for. how little she must care for herself if she gave up so much for the first person that extended kindness to her for a short time. and it's painful because it goes both ways, because sacrifices always do, because it's unforgettable and it stays with the warden forever, not only because of the emotional bond they have with morrigan, but because now they have a literal bond between them. the warden now has to keep living a life they took from morrigan, and with the grief of not having morrigan around. they can no longer live for themselves. every day alive is a reminder that someone else gave up their time so the warden could have it. someone else is not seeing the world just to let the warden see it. someone else is alone, while the warden gets to be around people. and the sacrifice is mutual in the end, because the pain is mutual, because the love was mutual. the warden doesnt get to see morrigan, and can only keep this life and the memories, the love and the grief, and the undying hope as a reminder that someday they might meet again. but its mostly grief, and learning how to live with it, with all the love they can't give, and how to carry it gracefully.

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART THREE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of alcohol Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: okay guys, you know the drill. Thank you to the best beta, @lantern-inthenight and to my moral support and idea’s girl, @myownparadise96

MASTERPOST

taglist: @satingrass-maidensfair​ @guitarfingers​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @n1-party-anthem​ @peaceisouranthem​ @oblvions​ @hansonobsessed​ @bigblack-catattack​ @myownparadise96​

To your pleasant surprise, you had a total of three classes with Kate. Biology, Philosophy, and Anatomy, and she made sure to sit close to you in every one of them. With the first day of classes behind you, you were able to breathe a sigh of relief. You had gone unnoticed by most, which you held as a comfort in the back of your head. 

When Wednesday rolled around, Josh walked you to school, a notebook tucked under his arm this time. You had prepared some coffee for the both of you, and you had had two days to get into the swing of packing lunches - nothing too extravagant, but enough to get you through the day. 

When you reached the atrium, you parted ways, agreeing to meet up at noon again, same spot. 

Kate was waiting for you when you sat down at your lab table. You smiled at her as she stretched her arms behind her head, seemingly trying to wake herself up. 

“I’m not used to these early ass classes,” she said.  “I’ve been waking up at noon all summer long.”

You glanced down at your drink and slid the thermos across the slate tabletop. 

“You want some of my coffee? It’s my secret weapon.”

She laughed, wiping at her eyes. “I’m not sure how much of a ‘secret’ coffee is,” she teased, but took it from your grasp and popped the top. Her hair, tucked behind her ear, came to a sharp point by her chin and the dark color accentuated the movement of her throat as she sipped it down. 

“Maybe it would also help if you ate something for breakfast,” you suggested.

She licked her lips absently, seemingly working through the logistics in her head. “Yeah, I’m sure it would, but that would mean I’d have to wake up more than five minutes before I need to be out the door.”

The shrill sound of the bell swallowed your laugh.

-

Lunch came around just when you needed it to the most. Your English professor had thrown you the ultimate curveball, telling you - just three days in - that you’d need to prepare and present a piece on a book you hadn’t read yet. But reading a novel in a matter of days wasn’t the part that got you; it was the part where you’d have to stand in front of thirty people you didn’t know and talk about it at length. 

So, by the time you spotted Josh sitting on the railing by the stairs of the atrium, you were ready to breathe an audible sigh of relief. 

He looked perfectly comfortable - even happy - in a group of six other people, all standing around him in a crescent shape. They seemed to be having a lively conversation, reacting to him like the tide to the moon. One or two words and he had them all grinning. You waited patiently across the room, and a beat later, his eyes landed on you. As soon as he stood and excused himself, the other dispersed like he was the glue holding them there from the beginning. 

He greeted you with a honey-sweet smile, falling into pace with your steps as you headed out the doors. 

“How’s your day so far?” you asked, turning your head towards him to catch his answer. 

“It’s good,” he replied. “Nice to be back at it actually, even if my voice is a little rusty. How are you?”

“I’m fine-”

You went to continue, but he was sent forward an inch or two as someone punched the back of his arm from behind, knocking the breath from his lungs. You hadn’t been sure it wasn’t hostile until a guy wrapped his arm around Josh’s shoulder, pulling him into his side. 

Through a beaming grin, the man spoke. “Hey, dude! Where the hell have you been? I haven’t heard shit from you in forever!” 

You weren’t sure what to do other than to stand there awkwardly, thumbs hooked around the straps of your bag across your shoulders. When you realized the conversation would take longer than you cared to hang around for (also, you didn’t want to seem like you were eavesdropping), you made your way to a brick barrier across the grass and sat with your back against it. Josh shot you an apologetic smile, but you waved him off, pulling out your plastic baggies of food and laying them out next to you. Red grapes, string cheese, crackers, and carrot sticks - you counted it all off in your head. 

It took a couple of minutes before he could pull away, but he rushed to join you as soon as he could get the guy to stop talking for even a second.

“Hey, sorry,” he quickly muttered as he sat with his legs folded, one under the other. 

“No need to apologize,” you said, and meant it. “Here, I brought lunch.”

His eyes widened as he reached for the bag of grapes. “This is for me too? Wow, this is quite the spread.”

“Of course, it’s for you,” you said through a laugh, rolling your eyes at him. He laughed back, the sound coming out light and sunny. 

It was getting cooler. Even just in the couple of short weeks you’d been in Michigan, the weather was changing. You eyed him, dressed in a loose white t-shirt, and shivered out of sympathy. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brows tipping up in concern. 

You shook your head and waved him off. “Nothing, just haven't acclimated yet.” 

He huffed a laugh, giving you a sympathetic look. “Well, you’d better hurry. Winter is coming,” he said dramatically through a grave expression. 

You rolled your eyes at him, popping a carrot stick into your mouth before you could say anything stupid.

-

After your lunch period was Philosophy. Josh had left you about fifteen minutes before you were due at class, explaining that he wanted enough time to set up for the next period. You think it was Theater for him, but you couldn’t be sure - he always talked a mile a minute, and often all you could do was nod and try your best to keep up.

Kate caught you in the hall, matching your pace quickly. 

“Hey,” she said, bumping her shoulder into yours lightly like you’d been friends for ages. “So. How was lunch?”

The question was innocent enough, but her tone paired with the glint in her eyes was not. You cocked your head at her, giving her a curious smile. 

“It was just fine; why do you ask?” 

She hummed and clutched her books tight to her chest. “I just. Couldn’t help but notice you cozying up to one of the Kiszka boys. What’s up with that?”

You snapped around to give her an alarmed look. “Who, Josh?” you asked, suddenly feeling like a complete moron for not realizing you’d never even asked his last name. 

“Yeah!” she agreed, giving you a smug look. “You know - curls, dimples, teeth so white you have to wear sunglasses to have a conversation with him.”

“Oh, he’s just my roommate,” you explained simply, but she looked unconvinced.

“Ah, really? Roommate and you also have a crush on him? That’s hot goss.”

You were turning the corner into the classroom then, but you paused just before you sat at your seat. You could feel your cheeks start to warm. 

“What? No,” you denied, setting your books on the tabletop, gently enough that they didn’t make a sound, and hanging your backpack from your chair. “No, he’s just a friend.”

She looked like she still didn’t believe you, but she didn’t say anything else. There were still a few moments before class started - your professor was busying himself at a file cabinet in the corner of the room, shuffling papers around hastily. You glanced over at her out of the corner of your eye, opening your mouth to speak a couple of times before you gained the courage to do so.

 “D-do you know anything about him?” you asked, just under normal speaking volume. 

She looked over at you with a grin, as if you even asking was like admitting that she was right - which she was not.

“Hmm, what could I say about him. He’s kind of the life of the party,” she started. “Loud, eccentric, confident. People seem to love being around him.”

All of that seemed to check out - that you already knew. “Does he party a lot?” you inquired. 

“He used to a lot more. I’ve hardly seen him at all this summer.”  

You frowned at nothing in particular, just a little offset by that. “Any reason why?” 

“I’m not sure,” she admitted after a beat. “He’s popular enough. Loads of people want to be around him, it seems.” 

You giggled to yourself at her dreamy tone. “If I didn’t know better, I’d guess that you have a crush on him.” 

She waved you off with a smile. “There is no denying that he’s cute, right? That much is obvious.”

You realized that she was waiting for you to answer after a second of silence. You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I guess he’s a handsome guy.”

You wanted to ask more, but you weren’t sure what else to ask. You were going to try and continue the conversation after class, but it had run long, giving you just enough time to make it to Economics before being late. You opted to exchange numbers instead, handing your phone over to her and that’s how Kate ended up living in your contacts with a (self-appointed) bunny emoji next to her name. 

All the questions you had intended to ask her slipped from your head the second the next bell rang. 

-

Josh had sent you an apologetic text that you’d have to walk home alone, and he’d be done around six. The route back to the apartment was becoming familiar, and you were starting to enjoy Michigan. The freedom made you feel like a character in a teen movie and you took the time to relish it. 

You were just getting out of the shower when you heard the front door open. Your hair was still wrapped in a towel when you padded down the hall, already in your pajama pants despite it being only 6:30. Josh was on his tippy-toes, peering up into the cupboard above the sink that housed all the snacks but ultimately not finding what he was looking for.

“Hey, how was school?” you asked, watching as he pulled some leftovers out of the fridge. He popped the lid and smelled the container before setting them on the counter next to the microwave. 

“Good, I stayed late to start drawing up the outline for the musical. I’m going to have kids auditioning in two weeks, so I have to be ready.” 

He beamed every time he talked about the production, something he did often. You couldn’t help but smile back. 

“That’s so exciting,” you agreed, leaning over the open fridge door. “It’s all happening so fast.”

“You’re telling me! Did you eat yet?” 

You shook your head. “No, I haven’t,” you replied honestly.

“Okay, I’ll heat some for you too,” he said, not giving you a chance to respond. When dinner was finished, you sat down together in the living room, and it wasn’t thirty seconds later that he flicked his eyes up at you. 

“Hey, so. My friend is throwing this party tonight - 'supposed to be a real rager.”

“Oh, yeah?” You met his eyes. “Are you going to go?”

He nodded at you. “Yeah, could be fun. You wanna come?” 

You tried not to look too shocked, but you couldn’t help it. The look on your face made him breathe a laugh. 

“You’re inviting me?”

“Of course,” he said around a mouth full of mushroom ravioli like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

You bit your bottom lip a moment, trying to buy a little time to process. “I’m not super good around a bunch of people. Also, I have a metric ton of homework to get through.” 

Even though he was good at hiding it, you could tell he was at least a little disappointed. 

“Rain check?” you asked hopefully, making his posture perk up a little.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, nodding as the microwave timer sounded. 

“I have a presentation that I have to give on Monday and I’m not nervous about it at all.”

You laced your fingers together under your chin anxiously. 

He gave you an assuring smile. “You’re going to do great,” he promised, handing you a bowl and a fork. 

When he could tell that you still weren’t convinced, he spoke again. 

“If you’re really worried about it, you can present it to me first.” You flicked your eyes up at him, trying to gauge if he was just being polite, or if he actually meant it. You decided that the answer was the latter as you found no trace of insincerity. 

“That might help a lot actually,” you agreed, nodding your head. “I’ll let you know when it’s finished?” 

He smiled back at you in affirmation. 

+++

You had tried to work in the living room, but you kept finding yourself getting distracted. First, it was the dripping sound that the kitchen sink always made, but even when you were finally able to block that out, your eyes kept catching on the clock on the DVD player flashing 00:00 perpetually. You knew that had you been working on a subject you actually cared about, it would be a lot easier, but you were stuck working on math, so it was no use. After about half an hour, you dragged everything into your room and posted up on your bed, back against the headboard, and found instantly that being around your own belongings had helped. 

You put on some ambient music, letting it become background noise as you chipped away at your work, first finishing all your math worksheets, and then moving on to Chemistry. 

A frown set on your lips as you peered over your notes. You pulled your phone out and opened your message app.

In your first ever message to Kate, you said,

Hey, I’m a disaster human and I forgot to write down how far we need to read in Chemistry

You stood and made yourself a cup of coffee while you waited for her reply, and as you stirred the milk in, you heard your phone buzz. 

Kate     now

shit thanx for reminding me. I think it’s from pg 10 - 25. Think we’ll get quizzed on it or should i skip it? 

You flipped your book open to page ten and skimmed the first paragraph. When the topic seemed familiar, you shot her back,

I’m guessing we will honestly. But what’s more fun than Air Analysis?

Kate     now

Literally anything right?

You huffed a laugh and just messaged her back a smug-looking emoji. 

She was right. It was terribly boring. You tried as hard as you could to retain what you were reading, but by the time you got to page 25, you weren’t entirely sure you’d pass a quiz on the topic. 

You hadn’t realized how late it was getting until your stomach started growling. The clock on your nightstand read 9:45 pm.

Luckily, the kitchen cupboards were pretty full. You mulled it over for a moment before reaching for a box of pasta and a jar of red sauce. 

The water was almost at a boil when you heard the key slide into the lock on the front door. 

When it swung open, Josh landed his eyes on you and grinned. 

“What’s up?” he asked cheerily. 

You giggled at his obviously drunken state. “Not much. How was the party?”

Closing the door and locking it behind him, he replied, “Pretty fun. A little crazy.”

“Yeah?” you asked rhetorically through a smile. “Are you hungry?”

He nodded back at you, slinging his jacket over the back of the couch. 

“Well, you picked a great time then. Spaghetti?” 

He hummed, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge next to you. “Perfect.” 

It quiet for a moment as he watched you pour the pasta in and work the noodles until they were fully submerged. 

“How did you get home?” 

“Got a ride,” he assured with a warm look. “What did you get up to? Not just homework, I hope.”

“What else would I be doing?” you asked with a huff. 

He shrugged innocently at you, taking a swipe of sauce off the inside of the lid with his finger. You flicked your eyes over at him.

“I probably should make some friends,” you admitted, a teasing tone painting the words. 

As you went to grab the strainer out of the top cupboard, you felt a hand on your shoulder. It had taken you aback a bit; that was the first time Josh had ever touched you. You paused what you were doing to meet his eyes. 

He was giving you an honest looking smile. “I’m your friend,” he said, almost as an offering - like it wasn’t much more than a consolation prize. 

You smiled back at him, feeling suddenly very warm and happy. You weren’t sure what to say, so you just pressed your side against his and savored the moment. 

You weren’t sure if he’d remember it in the morning, but it didn’t really matter.

Author’s Note: What are we thinking? I get butterflies every time someone reblogs, likes, replies, or sends me an ask, so don’t be afraid to do that! As always, send me a message if you’d like to be added to the taglist, so you can know the second I update!

[derekmorganscrocs]

Galentines Gone Wrong

Pairing: Wendell Bray x Reader, Valentine’s Special.

Word Count: 2,623

Summary: Y/n Booth is an FBI agent who works under her brother Seeley Booth and is also partnered with the Jeffersonian. Valentines rolls around and Cam, Daisy, and Y/n are all painfully single. Brennen and Angela join in and the group decides it’s girls night, get absolutely smashed, cause major chaos and get arrested for disturbing the peace. When their counterparts show up to bail them out, girls night turns to date night... or whatever this is.

Edit, March 11th: I hate the end of this. I reread it and it’s lowkey trash, but I’m going to keep it up because people seem to be enjoying it. Just a disclaimer that this is not my best work.

Notes: Tbh I second guessed this yesterday, hence the late post. I want to clarify that Wendell IS NOT preying on a drunk girl, and there was no drunk hookup. This is definitely not my favourite thing I’ve written and I was so out of ideas for the ending, but fck it, I have a migraine and feel like the personification of death. ALSO I WOULD NEVER USE GALENTINES IRL IK ITS LAME BUT I SIMPLY DO NOT CARE. HOLDIDAY SPIRIT BABES. Anyway, on with the show.

It’s been a long night. Fun, but long. You wake up against Daisy’s side, stretching lazily, and still partially drunkenly. As you sit up, you recall the events that led to your current seat in a drunk tank.

The five of you ended up in a biker bar, huge leather-clad and big bearded dudes all over the damn place. Despite being big scary bikers, they were chill and actually bought half of your drinks. Then you and Daisy got a little too close to an attractive younger biker, and his girlfriend was not having it. So an argument turned full on brawl caused the lot of you to bail out of the bar and trek back into town.

Only you were real rowdy, laughing and singing, a little to loudly for anyone’s liking. And got the cops called on you. And got thrown in a dunk tank. Unfortunately “you can’t arrest me, I am the law” doesn’t work if you’re drunk. The cops weren’t a fan of your badge, either.

You’re torn from your thoughts at the sound of voices down the hall, and you stumble over the the bars of the cell, holding onto them for balance. A half-hour nap didn’t do much to sober you up. The voices get closer, and your friends and brother walk in. Wendell’s the first one you notice, your eyes immediately darting to him. He’s wearing a hot ass black jacket, jeans and a white T-shirt, and you stare at him for a lot longer than you should.

“Hey, BJ. Never thought I’d see you on the other side of the bars.” Hodgins laughs at your expression of annoyance, and lets the cop they’re with open the cell door. He walks over to grab Angela, and you scoff.

“I told you to stop calling me BJ. I know you mean Booth Junior, but other people might think something else,” you mutter, much less than impressed at the innuendo tied to the nickname.

Your brother and Sweets go collect Brennan and Daisy, and Cam stands up on her own. She’s the most level-headed of all of you, and she’s completely sobered up now. Wendell walks to your side, your brother is too occupied with his (much less coordinated than you are) wife. Wendell puts an arm around you, and you gladly lean into him, hands settling on his chest.

“You’ll never guess what we did,” you giggle drunkenly against Wendell’s chest, overcome with the giddiness of a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Apparently you guys disturbed a lot of peace.” Wendell has somewhat of an impressed/concerned/entertained smirk on his face. He looks down at you, massively interested in the story as to how you got here. Not that he’ll hear it anytime soon.

“How’d you know?!” You look up at him with surprise written all over your face, a gasp escaping your lips, and it takes a lot for him not to burst out laughing.

“The sheriff told me. Let’s take you home, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble, much more sullenly than five seconds ago.

Wendell keeps an arm around you, more than a little worried that you’re gonna fall over, and takes you to his car. You get in the front seat, smacking his hand away as he tries to help with your seatbelt. After successfully buckling the seatbelt, you glance back at him with a smirk.

“You know if you wanted to get on top of me all you had to do was ask.”

Wendell nearly chokes and dies at what you’re insinuating. He’s also not sure if this is the tequila talking or if it’s you talking. Composing himself quickly, he lets out a chuckle, saying something along the lines of ‘okay then,’ and closes the door for you. He walks around the front of the car, making his way to the driver’s seat. Hodgins drives by, Angela and Cam in the car with him, and waves as he heads home.

Seeley pulls up beside Wendell, looking at him sternly. Daisy and Brennen are singing in the back seat, and Wendell can see Sweets in the front seat, holding back laughter. It’s a funny sight really, the usually stoic Dr. Brennen and overly excitable Daisy, swaying together in the back seat singing an off-key rendition of piano man. Seeley makes a face at a certain piercing high note that comes from Dr. Brennan, before turning to Wendell.

“Listen man, I appreciate it. If we didn’t live on the opposite side of town, I’d take her home.” Seeley leans out the window slightly, looking at Wendell.

“It’s no problem, really.” Wendell smiles, giving your brother a small wave as he turns to get in his car. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

“Wait! Not that I think you will, but don’t try anything. Alright?”

“Course not, man. Don’t worry, I got this. Head home, I’ll text you when I get Y/n home.” Wendell knows your brother means no harm, obviously, yet can’t help but think about why he’d even think to say that to him.

When he gets back in the car, seeing you sleeping soundly in the passenger seat, curled up and leaning against the window, his worries melt away and he smiles. He turns the car on and lowers the radio volume before driving off.

Tonight summarizes the two of you pretty well, actually. Y/n, the chaotic do-good-er badass, and Wendell, the (sometimes also chaotic) best friend, who always has your back. Sometimes it pains him that you only see him as that, a best friend, but he’s okay with just being that. A friend. Because it means he gets to see you happy. Little does he know, you wouldn’t have gotten so sauced tonight if you weren’t drinking away the thoughts of his lips on yours, his skin pressed against yours as the night turns to morning, the idea of a spark that doesn’t exist. The day of love sucks.

And for some reason, neither of you can see that you’re crazy about each other. Maybe it’s because you’re afraid to ruin what you have, or maybe it’s because you’re both just oblivious, but it doesn’t make a huge difference. Nothing seems to be happening.

Wendell is occupied with a lot of thoughts as he drives to your place. His mind bounces all over the place. He thinks about how you met, when you first walked into the Jeffersonian covered in dirt and sweat (in a cute way... even though he thinks anything is cute on you) after a chase in the desert, just to see your brother and make sure he was okay. He also thinks about the time he literally ran into you and the two of you fell down the platform stairs. The alarms went off, and everyone stared at the pair of you tangled up on the floor. Needless to say it took a while to live that one down. He thinks about every time he’s seen you laugh, and the few that he’s seen you cry. Not that you really even cried, you just couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You don’t exactly do emotions, not out in the open at least.

He thinks about every reason he’s so smitten with you. You’re courageous, selfless, you protect your friends and family, you’re cutthroat and ferocious, yet simultaneously the sweetest person he’s ever met. You care about every detail of his day when you ask how he’s doing, and you can tell when the slightest thing is off with him, or anyone else at the lab, except for noticing his flaming crush on you. And as he thinks about all the little things, he realizes it can’t stay bottled up forever. He has to tell you.

Before long, you’re home. The two and a half hour drive have Wendell a lot of time to think, yet somehow it also feels like he’s had no time at all. The time has also started your trail toward sobriety, and you can at least think coherently. Wendell wakes you, and when you wake up, your hand goes to your head.

“Good god. Did I get hit by a bus?” Your words are still slightly jumbled together, but you’re getting back to business as usual, and that’s good enough.

“There she is,” he singsongs playfully, glad to see your usual demeanour starting to return. You unbuckle your seatbelt, groaning when you go to move. Wendell offers you a hand, and you take it.

Helping you up, he puts an arm around your waist again. You stumble slightly, and when he catches you, you fall against him, leaning against his chest. He ends up just scooping you up off the ground and carrying you inside, placing you on the couch. You’re mostly in good shape, just awful clumsy and distracted due to your headache. Wendell heads into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and some crackers.

“How you doing?” He sits by your thigh, putting an arm on the back of the couch and looking over at you. You cover your face with your hands, laughing gently.

“Ugh, please tell me I didn’t actually make the worst sex implication joke ever.”

“Um...”

“Oh shit. This is embarrassing.” You sit up, still a little tipsy, but not as messed up as you were at the police station. Maybe if things go off you can play it off as Valentine’s tequila. “Fuck it. I’m just gonna go for it. Tonight was fun or whatever, but I really wanted to spend it with you.”

“We could’ve done that. We can hang out this weekend if you want.”

“No, no. You really are a blonde.” You laugh, nudging his shoulder with your fist. Suddenly nervous, you start to ramble. “Not that that’s bad, because you’re definitely pretty. You’re a cute blonde, and you do have really nice arms, they’re really toned, and you know, at the garage you wear these tight shirts and sometimes I just stare and I worry you see, but-“

“Y/n! You’re getting off track here.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, laughing at your rambles. “Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow.”

“I like you a lot.” The words are out of your mouth before he’s even finished his sentence. “Like I have feelings for you?” It comes out like a question, but it’s meant as more of a fearful statement.

“Wait, really?” His eyes widen and his smile falls. At first you think he’s about to run for the hills, but when a small smile appears on his face you’re not so sure.

“Ah, shit, I shouldn’t have said anything,” you curse, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity. That’s fuckin embarrassing.

“No, I like you, too. A lot.” Wendell takes your hand, and you lay against his side as he keeps talking. “We can talk more, when you’re sober. But I do like you. And I think that if we decided that this weekend’s hangout was more ‘ice skating in the park’ instead of ‘trying to kill each other at the rink’, I’d be more than okay with that. I’d like that a lot, actually.” He lets out a small, nervous chuckle, and he glances down at you, fingers grazing your cheek as he contemplates if it would be weird to cup your face with his hand and run his thumb over your cheek.

“Really?” You look up at him with an adorable awestruck expression, and he nearly bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, really.” A smile stays glued to his face, and he shifts slightly, which causes you to sit up. “Now, you should probably go to bed, so that you’re not completely useless tomorrow.”

Wendell plants a small kiss on the top of your head, before standing and scooping you up, bringing you to your room. He drops you gently on your bed, and you let out a small giggle as you bounce slightly with the impact. You banish him from your room so that you can change, and not really paying attention, grab a black hoodie and shorts out of your closet. When you open the door again, he’s just leaning against the wall outside.

“Sorry, I didn’t know where you wanted me to set up- is that my hoodie? I’ve been looking for that!”

“Huh?” You look down at the sweater, seeing the small Jeffersonian logo on the left side of the chest, and the initials on the sleeve. “Oh, I guess it is.” You remember when he gave it to you, he couldn’t stand the idea of you remaining in your blood soaked T-shirt, the grey had become a sticky maroon, too much so to be comfortable. “You can have it back-“

“No, you keep it.” He steps closer, lifting your chin so that you look at him, and brushing a stray hair out of your face. His voice drops, becoming softer and breathy. “It’s much cuter on you anyway,” he murmurs, making you blush profusely, a little laugh escaping your lips.

The two of you fall silent, each staring at the other’s lips. A hum comes from the furnace, causing you both to startle slightly, and it ends the moment. You glance back at Wendell again, before sitting on your bed. He tilts his head at you, mildly confused as to what you’re doing.

“Where did you want me to sleep?”

“Wherever you want. There’s blankets and a few pillows in the closet.”

He thanks you and walks out, and you breathe in deeply, not realizing how shallow your breathing had become. Your mind is racing, and so is your heart. This is simultaneously about the best and worst Valentine’s you’ve ever had. As you mull over the events of tonight, you slide under the blankets, laying back and staring at the ceiling. The shuffling in your living room comes to a stop, and you can hear Wendell coming back to your room. He stops in the doorway.

“Came back to say goodnight,” he says softly, making your heart melt.

“You mind staying for a while?” You sit up, looking at him. He glances over his shoulder at you, a perplexed expression plastered on his face. “What?! I’ve had a rough night,” you say, pretending to be offended. He makes his way over, laying on your bed, on top of the blankets. You roll over and face him, looking up at him lazily. “Goodnight, Wendell.”

You drift off to sleep fairly quickly, but not before you subconsciously lay your head on his chest. He’s terrified at first, frozen in place and afraid to breathe, but after a few minutes he collects himself and calms down. You sleep soundly, curled up beside Wendell. He’s warm and he smells good, and he’s pretty comfortable. By the morning, the two of you are completely intertwined, tangled in blankets and each others’ arms.

The two of you grab a greasy breakfast (and some Advil) and spend the day together, actually talking about what happened the night before. Most of the day is spent at your place, you and Wendell lounging around on your couch as you binge watch your favourite series and try to overcome your hangover.

The next days and weeks fly by, you and Wendell getting closer and closer. The pair of you go on a few dates before things are made official, Wendell going as far as taking you on a walk in the snow and officially asking you out by the outdoor rink. He even reserved ice time so the two of you could skate around like idiots and pass a puck around.

And eventually, when people start to see you’re together, and ask about your story, you have to tell them he bailed you out of jail after Galantine’s gone wrong.

[hes-writer]

Routine

Summary: y/n catches harry live streaming a show

Warning: smut

Word Count: 2293 words

___

University was no joke. It’s expensive for sure. Harry had a full-time job at the beginning of the semester working at a cafe near his flat. He soon found out that that wasn’t the best idea. Maybe because he didn’t manage his time right or it was simply too exhausting for him to work late hours when he had to take mandatory morning classes. His next solution was more--risky per se. 

Harry had always been confident with his body. He ate well; loading up on fruit smoothies and veggie shakes every morning to accompany him on his early morning workouts. The sweat beading in between his toned pecs made him revel in the accomplishments of self-care, washed away as he palmed his face underneath the stream of the locker room shower. His wet curls stuck to his small ears as he pulled his sweater over his body, exiting the gym with a bag slung over his shoulder, plucking a peace sign to the person at the front desk as he left the building. 

It started off as a blog; posting pictures of his body that he worked hard on. The narcissist in him craved the compliments of strangers drooling over his muscles and shapely body. Sometimes the messages he received were explicit, but he also couldn’t help the arousal flowing through his veins as blood pumped towards his cock. Thus, the next part of his routine was to go home to his flat and strip his body off of his clothes. His webcam would be switched on with a push of a button, his long fingers floating over the keyboard as he signed in to his account. 

Speaking of, the meat between his thighs plumped up with the lingering thought of user ‘sweetgirl112’ messages last night. How much she wanted to tuck his thick length in her mouth, how much she craved to feel his large hands adorning her body. God, she had such a way with words and here Harry was with an erection pudging up in his lycra leggings. An outline of his mushroom head visible through the tight material. He played with his bottom lip as he waited for the traffic light to turn green. One hand tapped against the steering wheel in a rhythmic pattern, his mind drifting away to how it would feel like to have those pleasures within his reach. 

But he didn’t. 

He rushed off from his seat, quickly locking his car and keying the front door to his flat. Harry was hornier than usual today, thanks to sweetgirl’s lovely messages from last night. Harry rolled his eyes at the effect the stranger had on him. He dropped the chain dangling from his fingers on the bowl beside his door, sighing with excitement as he toed off his runners. 

On the couch, Y/N snoozed with her mouth agape, hair messily splayed across the pillow he provided her. He almost forgot she had slept over last night during their movie night. She insisted to sleep on the sofa despite Harry offering his bed to share between the both of them. In the end, both of them slept on the uncomfortable cushion cuddled up into one another. The distance between them was non-existent but Harry found it endearing the way Y/N cuddled up into his body in order not to fall off the edge, snuggling into his chest with a quiet snore after jolting when one of her legs tumbled of the border. 

Nonetheless, that meant that Harry had to tone his volume down a bit, keeping a keen ear to make sure his noises don’t wake her up or arise any alarm from his friend. He crouched down beside her sleeping face, waving a hand over her eyes to make sure she was still in a deep sleep. 

“Hope yer’ having sweet dreams,” His thick accent made the words stick to his tongue, lazily drooping like honey. Harry pressed a kiss to her forehead, ignoring the way his heart thumped as she smiled slightly in her sleep, humming with satisfaction and cuddling closer to the pillow clutched between her arms. 

Adorable, Harry thought. 

Soft footsteps tiptoed over his bedroom, shutting the door gently. He stretched his arms to remove the black sweater over his head, ruffling his curls in the process. His nose hooked at the opening, muffling his breath for a bit that had him tumbling down on the end of his bed with a slight bounce. Harry is clumsy.

He managed to remove the rest of his clothes without further trouble, leaving him in his boxers briefs and socks which he would take off when he got situated in his office chair situated in front of his computer. His set up was on the corner of his room, facing the door. It was a bit odd at first but Harry learned to make it work. 

Harry pushed two pumps of coconut-scented lotion into his large palm, lathering his upper body with a subtle sheen, moisturizing his biceps to appear shiny. The excess cream was rubbed along the nape of his neck, massaging the tense muscles along the way. A swift glance at the time at the bottom corner informed him that he had five minutes left until his scheduled show would begin. In preparation, Harry gathered the items he might need during his session. A bottle of clear, water-based lube, a bullet vibrator that recently joined his collection of toys and a silicone cock ring that looked to be a struggle to fit around his plump dick. He set the items aside on the table in front of where he would be sitting. 

Harry chewed on his bottom lip, hands grasping the width of his hip as he opted to check on Y/N again. She was a heavy sleeper and the show will probably take around thirty minutes to do, minus the foreplay and all of that. It was still pretty early in the morning too; around ten-thirty, surely she’d stay put till then. He peeked his head through a small gap in his door, craning his neck to catch Y/N shifting just in time to rest on her other side. 

Pretty soon, the webcam displayed a green dot at the corner and his screen was loaded to a  black screen. The chat indicated that there were currently twenty people watching him. The total viewer count increased with each passing second that had Harry grinning to himself. Once the camera was adjusted to where it cut off around his neck, he sat back in his spinny chair, splaying his wide palms on his muscly thighs. 

20 seconds left.

Harry could feel his cock grow in his boxers, the anticipation of his fans commenting on dirty things that they would like to do to him left his imagination endless. A blurt of precum stained the inside of the fabric, dotting the area a darker colour. He sighed deeply, wide eyes watching as the countdown changed.

5...4...3...2...1

In a blink of an eye, Harry’s toned body was showcased on the screen, allowing him to view what his viewers had the pleasure of viewing. The ‘LIVE’ sign blinked repeatedly. 

“Hello,” Harry drawled out purposefully using a deeper tone to set the mood. “How are you today?” His fingers stayed hung over the armchair, griping it slightly when comments started rolling in.

“How’s my baby? Are you needy for me?” He found that the best way to ensure as much of connection between his viewers was to speak as though it was a one-on-one conversation. “Because I am,” A hand crawled towards his crotch where his half-massed dick rested on his upper thigh, the head prominent against the tight briefs. 

Making sure to keep his face out of view, Harry leaned forward to read the remarks.

User12314: i love your tattoos

User48529: what i’d do to have my hands on you

He chuckled to himself, rubbing up and down to tease himself and them even more. Various 'pings' littered the room with Harry thanking each of them as much as possible. 

“I’d love to have my hands on you too,” He gave his cock a gentle squeeze, sucking a breath through his gritted teeth at the sensation. “Wanna feel your body on my skin,” Harry released a throaty groan as he shifted to pinch at his nipples, “Would ya’ let me touch your breasts? I bet they’re soft and perfect for my hands,” His thumb rubbed circles on his top two nipples, shivering slightly.

One palm cupped his balls, thumbing at the middle as the other continued the ministrations on his chest. This went on for a couple more seconds until he pulled his hands away to rest on the ferns tattooed on his hips, rubbing the skin there sensually while he spoke, “Y’wanna see my cock? It’s so hard for you,” The head twitched twice, forcing an involuntary moan to leak from his plump lips. 

User09321: yes please

He sighed at the message, his stomach burning with the need to just wrap his fingers around his dick and jerk it till he cums. But he couldn’t do that—at least not yet.

___

Y/N woke up from her slumber, dizzy and discombobulated about where she was only to realize that the ache in her lower back was caused by Harry’s uncomfortable couch. Her phone buzzed beside her; an alarm to wake up to watch a show. Not just any show—a filthy, dirty cam boy who hadn’t left Y/N’s mind ever since she discovered him for the first time a few days ago. She was drunk on wine and barely remembered what the live stream had contained. He was hot, that much she knew. 

He wore a dark red sweater that covered his body which Y/N found quite adorable. Yet at the same time, his fist peeked out from his bunched sweater paws to desperately tug at his cock while endless whispers and groans flowed from his mouth through the speakers. His covered body arching against his seat, the walls behind him a plain white. Apparently, he was feeling like a sub that day and asked permission to touch himself like a good boy, pleading to cum. His audience couldn’t resist the whine in his deep voice, shooting streams of cum on his sweater, staining the fabric and probably ruining it forever. 

Just before the live stream ended, he reminded everyone when his next show was--today-- and in her drunk daze, Y/N must have set up a reminder on her phone, completely forgetting that she was to hang out with Harry the day before. She rubbed the ball of her palm against her eyes, willing away the sleep on her lids. Sitting up on the cushion, she looked around Harry’s apartment to find the curly-headed boy. 

“Harry?” She called out, checking his kitchen to find it empty. She went to his bathroom to freshen up, picking up her toothbrush that Harry had sweetly brought her after Y/N stayed at his place more times than both of them can count. After spitting out the foam pooling in her cheeks, Y/N dabbed the corners of her mouth with a soft, fluffy towel. 

As she exited the bathroom, Y/N opened up the web browser in incognito mode, refreshing the link from a few days ago. The page loaded slowly, enabling Y/N to continue searching for Harry. She absent-mindedly walked to Harry’s closed bedroom door—the last place she had yet to look. Her phone produced a muffled sound when it finally loaded. She rapidly typed out a comment to send.

“Can’t take it anymore,” The man said, “I‘ve gotta touch myself but I’m wishing it’s you wrapping your hands around m’cock,”

Y/N could feel her thighs tighten, standing in front of Harry’s bedroom. 

Sweetgirl112: touch yourself for me daddy. i wanna hear you say how good it feels

Harry growled upon seeing the message and its user,  pulling the fabric down and letting his dick hit his skin with a faint slapping sound on his flushed stomach. Shaky fingers teased his length, tracing of the prominent veins that pumped his cock with blood. “Mm, it feels so good, love,” His thumb spread the liquid seeping at the tip, making sure to lube the head of his dick for a smooth stroke. 

With distracted thoughts, Y/N pushed the bar handle down, a gentle bump knocking the door open.  

She couldn’t believe her eyes when the loading screen on her phone mirrored the sight in front of her; Harry’s head thrown back, resting against the head of the office chair. Her phone cut off at the veins stretched over the expanse of his neck. His heaving chest glistening with sweat and the faint smell of coconut lingered in the air. His fist pumped his long cock up and down, squeezing at the tip to produce a dollop of wispy pre-cum. Closed eyes blocked his vision from Y/N standing frozen on the door, gazing back and forth towards the device on her sweaty palm to the even hotter view right in front of her.

A resonant sound of ‘pings’ pulled Harry out of his pleasure, lifting his head with the aim to thank whoever tipped him but was taken aback by the sight of his friend at his doorway.

“Oh shit,” He mumbled, impulsively clutching his full balls cradled between his fingers. Harry’s green irises were hooded, observing Y/N’s face with such intensity that it made her want to cower back. His two-front teeth grazed his bottom lip before parting his sweet mouth in a silent gasp at a particularly good stroke. “Wanna join me, baby?”

——

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[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: The Ease of a Storm PAIRING: Arthur Morgan/Reader. REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: A thunderstorm rolls in while you and Arthur are in the wilderness. WARNINGS: Thunderstorms, I guess? It’s mostly fluff.  NOTE: I’ve seen a couple works where Arthur comforts the reader about a fear of thunder, but usually I sit there like “can’t relate” because I love thunder. To an extent at least. lol So, I figured I’d write something for people who like thunder and standing around in the rain as much as I do. I miss it in the winter where I live. Anyway, gender neutral reader! Kind of short but to the point and fun to write, so hey. There’s also a bit of a personal headcanon in there too. 

Despite the pine tree, you could feel some wetness soaking into the fabric of the jacket you wore.

Thankfully, you had the foresight to take a heavier one that you usually wore, so the chill that settled didn’t effect you much. You could see your breath somewhat as the rain poured down on the ground around you, the branches of the tree at least making it only somewhat of a light spray. However, you had long since smelled the wet earth before the first drops fell where you were.

You had been sitting in the tent, reading, as Arthur had managed to doze off beside you in the late afternoon. Given the ride out to where you were near Strawberry, you weren’t sure if he was really out for the night or just napping. Still, the man deserved it. You had been acutely aware of just how much he worked for the gang, much to your own frustration at points when you just wanted to see him, have moments like earlier where you both could relax. That or when you wanted to help, but he brushed it off.

Still, it was nice to see. However, you weren’t all that inclined to join him and you had been getting a little restless when the first winds of a storm swept through the area. Luckily, the wind wasn’t too strong, just enough to add some chill and bring the rain your way. Normally, you knew you should have woken Arthur up and said something about the storm--it was still early out, maybe you could ride into Strawberry later if it gets worse.

Really, the idea of rain had gotten you a little excited. It had been enough for you to wait it out a bit before getting up and exiting the tent, wandering over toward the tree that you currently were standing under.

For once, your mind felt blank. At ease.

You could hear the rain falling against the ground and leaves of the trees, looking out over the small ravine as you watched the rain fall. You watched the dirt paths below, the odd rider racing through, hands keeping their hats securely on their heads as they rode through the downpour. There was the odd animal that would scurry across the paths down below, and you could hear them moving around near where you were. However, it didn’t seem like it was any cause for concern for you, your arms crossed in order to keep some heat in your jacket. You just listened, letting time pass.

There was no gang, no Arthur, no task at hand. Just you.

Though, your gaze flicked upward, catching a quick flutter of light in one of the clouds that loomed in the distance. Sure enough, there was a low rumble a few moments later, making a smile spread across your face.

However, you couldn’t hold onto the moment. Not forever, anyway. As the thunder settled, you heard a familiar voice call your name. There was a notable sound of alarm to it, making you turn to glance back toward where the camp was. You could see your horse standing under the tree you hitched her to, tossing her head somewhat but otherwise seemed unphased. Still, you shifted to push off the tree somewhat, hand coming down to rest against your holster.

“Arthur!” you called out, almost cursing yourself at possibly leading trouble your way instead of just heading back. Still...well, he had called out first.

Sure enough, you heard a rustle and hurried footfalls coming your way, as much as the rain threatened to drown the sound out as another rumble of thunder filled the air. Arthur walked toward you, hand resting on his hat as you relaxed somewhat.

“The hell’re you doin’?” he asked, accusatory but otherwise fine.

“Watching the storm,” you replied, turning to lean back to where you were against the tree trunk, beckoning him over with a small wave.

Arthur walked up beside you, pressing shoulder to shoulder as he tried to shelter himself under the same tree. As much as you weren’t freezing, the little warmth that offered was appreciated. You were fine with lapsing back into silence so you could listen to the downpour, but with Arthur there with you, you knew it would only be a while until he filled the silence.

However, you weren’t expecting the touch of sheepishness.

“Used to be...scared of storms. When I was little.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he replied around a sigh, “They used to get me bad, but after my mother passed...well, my ol’ man weren’t all that nice ‘bout it. Learned to stop cryin’ about them, but they used to make me anxious and thunder made me flinch well into me bein’ a teenager.”

“They don’t now,” you observed as a somewhat louder clap of thunder almost drowned out the last of his words--he hadn’t even blinked.

“Yeah, I stopped ‘round the time I got used to gunshots,” he replied, pausing a moment, “...and Hosea helped.”

“Hosea?”

“Yeah, think...think he noticed, when I was young,” he replied, a somewhat far away look in his eye as he continued, “About a year after I joined him and Dutch, he used to see a storm roll in and would linger about ‘round me. Tried to do some readin’ and writin’ too, if the storm weren’t too destructive. Eventually, he’d pull me away from camp and we’d watch it roll in if it weren’t too miserable. We were out west then, too...would feel the heat drop off and you just knew.”

“...I’ve always liked thunderstorms,” you admitted, “and rain. Ever since I was young. I’d get scolded a lot, running out into the rain and the mud whenever one would roll around.”

“You and I was two different kids, then,” Arthur commented, “Couldn’t catch me inside anywhere unless there was a storm.”

You let out a small hum in agreement, leaning against his side as you rested your head against his shoulder. The leather of his jacket had gone somewhat cold in the weather, some wetness on your cheek but you were getting rained on already. Though, Arthur shifted to wrap his arm around you and hold you closer to his side. You ran over what he told you in your head, seeing that scared little kid in your mind's eye (and tried not to think too deeply on his family life back then. He had mentioned a few things about his father, you were aware of what he was like.) Though, the Hosea story warmed your heart a bit.

Admittedly, you had noticed the photo of him, Dutch, and Arthur on the side of the wagon back at camp. When you first saw it, it was strange to see the younger versions of themselves. Though, you could imagine Hosea from that photo sitting on a bedroll under a tarp, trying to read to Arthur and them sitting together at the edge of camp.

There was some envy there, admittedly. You never really had much of a father-figure in your life. Then again, Arthur may not have either, if he hadn’t have joined up with the gang.

There was a history you felt relieved to be let in on, among other things that had developed as you and Arthur got close.

“I never took you for the storm watchin’ type,” he commented after the lingering silence, your head shifting somewhat from his shoulder.

“I never took you for someone who fears them,” you returned, letting out a small chuckle at the look he shot you.

“When I was a kid,” he stressed, “I ain’t no more. Don’t make me regret tellin’ you that.”

“I won’t,” you replied with another small chuckle, “I’m glad I heard it from you, I’m sure Hosea would have brought it up eventually. He does like to rib you.”

“He sure does…”

You smiled, reaching up to turn his head so you could kiss him. You held the gesture for a few moments, Arthur letting out a sound from the back of his throat before he pulled away somewhat.

“You’re soakin’ wet,” he commented, causing you to scoff lightly.

“You’re being dramatic. I’m a little damp.”

“No, seriously, I don’t even know how you’re not shiverin’,” he returned, though he didn’t shove you away from him as he glanced out toward the ravine again, “Though, hate to cut your fun time out here short, but that gets any closer and we might have to think about headin’ into town. I may not be scared of thunder no more, but I’ve seen what lightnin’ does.”

“...Yeah,” you admitted--you had been noticing the distance of the flashes and the volume of the thunder had been getting closer and louder.

“I’m sure it’ll be just as nice to listen to from inside that hotel in Strawberry,” he commented, stepping away from you.

As he did so, you could feel the coldness of the air seep in pretty quickly--maybe you were getting a little soaked. You cast one last glance out toward the gathering storm before turning and following him back toward the makeshift camp. As much as you loved storms, a warm bath seemed nice too.