#i will be eternally grateful to whoever said that to him

[sanctaignorantia]

when he's not interviewing vampires...

x

[throneofsmut]

Bound In Flames - Part 7

Eris Vanserra × Archeron-Sister-Reader || WC: 8.1k || Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, and trauma.

Summary: Feyre and her younger sister go hunting in the forest behind their family's cottage and go through life changing experiences.

A/N: The wolf in this part ( you’ll know once you get to that part of fic ) is basically like the wolves from twilight for reference. Size wise at least. But still it’s a little bigger than that. He's also heavily inspired by Tairn from fourth wing. Him and reader's bond is similar to the bond Violet and Tairn have.

****

Your tear stained cheek was pressed against your bent knee as you sat before the Yew Tree where the Summer Court Faerie was now buried. Fingers pulling and ripping the plush green spring grass beneath you.

Warm tears continued to wet your skin as you sat there and quietly said the prayer usually said when an Illyrian passed.

Voice cracking as you recited it, grateful that no one was around to hear the grief that was thick in your throat for a faerie you didn’t even know.

“Once soaring through skies with grace and might.

Now grounded and wounded in a fateful plight.

Though grounded they stand their soul takes flight.

Denying a flightless fate welcoming death's sweet embrace.

May the wings that once soared high carry their spirit to eternal skies.

So let us remember the fallen ones who will now become a star and be one with the night.

May they fly in the beautiful skies of immortal land of milk and honey.

Feel the wind beneath their wings.

The warm breeze a loving caress against skin.

As they lose themselves in the songs of the wind once again.”

Looking up at the stars, you searched the skies, as if you’d be able to see a whisper of the Summer Court faerie flying above you. Free from pain and suffering. Free from Amarantha. Letting out a deep sigh when you didn’t and stared at the grave at the base of the Yew Tree.

You sniffled and then let out a shuddering breath, “I am so sorry I was late. Maybe—maybe if I had gone Under the Mountain as soon as I got into Prythian, Amarantha would’ve been too focused on me to take your wings.”

Pulling out a small dagger from your pocket, cutting across your palm, letting your blood flow onto the earth. “Before I kill her or before she kills me… I’ll kill whoever she ordered to butcher you—your wings.” You swore.

Too drained to care to wrap your hand, you just sat there letting the darkness of the night comfort you. As it always did. But then you heard it: almost like a whisper, as if cloth were dragging over root and stone.

Nostrils flaring as you scented the air, without a doubt knowing who it was. The tall, thin veiled figure in dark tattered robes, came to sit next to you.

Then slowly, it turned to you, the dark veil draped over its bald head blowing in a phantom breeze. “Hello, Darkling.” Click, click went its fingers against each other, one for each word.

“Hello, old friend.”

The Suriel sniffed the air, once. Twice. “You’re bleeding.” Its fingers clicking again. You didn’t look at them, not even as its robes rustled as if it was looking for something.

Then you heard the sound of cloth tearing. A moment later it’s too long fingers gently gripped your hand—carefully—to not touch the cut on your palm. Then it wrapped the piece of their torn robe around your hand. Squeezing your fingers before putting your now bandaged hand back in your lap. “She knows you’re in Prythian. She’s hunting you.”

“I know.” You said quietly.

“The faeries she sends into these lands are hunting you, faeries like the naga,” It said, its voice was at once one and many, old and young, beautiful and grotesque. “Her ilk will continue to invade these lands on her orders. To find you.”

You felt the Suriel’s eyes on you as you looked down at your wrapped hand. Then at the Suriel. They had torn the cleanest part of their robe to bandage you. “Thank you,” you gave them a small smile, it was all you could muster at the moment and they nodded their head in understanding.

“You know you’re being hunted, so why are you still out here all alone.” Not a question, but a mere fact.

As if on cue the grass brush a couple yards in front of you rustled, the Suriel and you looked up and you smiled knowing who was there. Without looking away from the blue glowing eyes that were now set on you. “I’m not alone.”

The Suriel only chuckled, “No, you are not.”

Moment of silence passed before you spoke again, “You know if I knew you were coming I would’ve brought you a new cloak,” you glanced at the old tattered cloak they wore.

“Well, I didn’t have time to schedule an appointment, my lady.” They said sarcastically, earning a chuckle from you.

“Fair enough. Meet me here tomorrow night and I’ll bring you a new cloak.”

Their dark tattered robes rustled as they stood and placed a hand on your shoulder, “Thank you,” It’s fingers clicking in time with the words it spoke. Then they looked toward the grass brush again where those glowing blue eyes still watched you, “Get her back to the manor. It’s not safe out here.” They said to the owner of those blue glowing eyes, but all the Suriel got back was a low growl in response.

You don’t know how much time passed after the Suriel left, didn’t care, all that mattered were those blue eyes that stared back at you. Slowly you stood up from your spot in the grass and walked towards the grass brush. The same time you stood up, it did too, but it didn’t make a move. It was unnaturally still and silent. Until you spoke his name, “Raihn.” So quiet, it was barely a whisper but you know he heard you by the way his ears twitched.

Then it was walking out to meet you, slowly. Menacingly.

“Raihn. . . It’s me. It’s me, Y/n” you whispered, you didn’t know who could be out here. Listening. Watching. He stalked closer, the night shielding most of him, all you could see were his eyes. Until he was right in front of you. Illuminated by the moonlight you could finally see him. He was bigger than you remembered, then again that was 10 years ago. He had always been huge but now he was massive. His fur was pure white and he had to be at least 10 feet in length and over 6 feet tall from paw to shoulders.

“Raihn, it’s me. Please. Please, you have to remember me.” Your eyes filled with tears as you pleaded. He had to remember you, because you could never forget him.

Your mother told you that her mother used to tell her stories about a rare species of wolves that hailed from the north. From deep in the mountains of the Night Court. They only ever bonded with the Lords and Princes of Illyria, if they were loyal, cunning, brave and possessed the raw killing power.

The wolves used to fight beside them in battle and the more killing power the Illyrian possessed then the stronger the bond between them was. If the bond was strong enough they could channel power into each other and share it, but if one of them was killed in battle the other would fall too even if they were physically unharmed.

It had been centuries since the last wolf had bonded with an Illyrian. Until you. Since you could remember, Raihn had always been by your side until you had to disappear.

Your lips quivered as you spoke, voice cracking, “Raihn.” You slowly stuck your hand out so he could scent you. His snout twitched, once. Then twice. He looked back at you—assessing—then growled, so low, you felt the ground beneath you shake.

The massive wolf’s lips curled back as he bared his teeth inches away from your face. You know he’s confused because he can still scent your true scent beneath the blood spell your mother used on you. Which also changed your physical appearance. If only you could touch him—restoring the bond—then you could talk to him and he could talk to you.

You let out a sharp breath, knowing what you had to do. You tried to brace yourself for the pain you knew you were about to feel, it would only allow him to see you—the real you if only for a couple seconds. But still he would see you and then he’d remember who you are to him.

“Nochd.”

As soon as you uttered the word which meant reveal in the old language, your entire body felt as if it was being ripped apart yet it put back together. Your veins felt as if they were on fire by the coldest flames. Gasping for breath felt like you were drowning in scorching hot water, your lungs expanding and constricting. And your head felt like it was going to explode.

Then nothing.

It was nearly dawn when you felt something nudging your face and hand. You could barely hear the whimpers over the blood roaring through your ears. Your entire body felt heavy and sore as you lifted your hand and felt fur: soft and warm.

Raihn.

His head was still nudging your face. Turning to look at him, really look at him. He has deep scarred scratches on the right side of his face but he wasn’t blinded. And most of his right ear was gone, “You’re as beautiful as the day I last saw you.” He flinched hearing your voice, hoarse from the pain inflicted from the blood spell.

You’re hurt. Stop talking, he orders. His voice deep and gruff.

Letting out a hiss as you sit up. “Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

He growled in response. Don’t do that ever again. You almost died.

“Well, it’s your fault you didn’t recognize me. I had to show you it was me.” You tried to reason.

So it's my fault that you smell like you but don't look like you. How was I supposed to know? He argued.

You shrugged, “At least you know now.”

Yes, but you don't know how I felt all these years, not knowing if you would come back or if you were safe!

“I miss you too.” You chuckled softly.

Get on. He ordered.

You scoffed, “I can walk,” but made no move to stand.

I didn't ask. Now get on.

Raihn moved so he was laying next to you as close as he could without squishing you. All you had to do was hold onto the scruff of his neck and roll over to get on his back. You took in a deep breath and let it out once you were on his back. Cursing as he stood up, the movement jostling your sore body.

Don't be rude, he says. Looking over his shoulder at me before huffing. You're bleeding. Stop it.

It’s your turn to huff, “Don’t be rude,” you sit up a bit, wiping the blood coming from your nose. “Let’s just go back to the manor.”

****

The ride back to the Spring Court Manor was quiet but not uncomfortable. The both of you content with just being in each other’s presence.

None of the sentries stationed around the Manor said anything to you about the dry blood now stained underneath your nose. Or the massive wolf who was carrying your limp body inside. They only moved out of the way, letting you both pass.

As Raihn stalked into the alabaster manor and up the stairs to your room the servants let out shocked gasps. Some stood frozen in shock and when they didn’t move he growled, baring his teeth in warning. Swatting his foreleg lightly, “Hey, be nice.”

They're the ones that need to be nice. It's not polite to stare. He reasoned as he growled at another servant.

Once you finally got to your room he layed back down so you could get off and you slowly trudged to the ensuite bathroom. Quickly washing up and putting on a fresh night gown to sleep in. You didn’t bother looking in the mirror, already knowing your face was puffy from crying.

Walking back into the bedroom, going straight to the closet to pull out pillows and comforters. You laid them on the floor before the foot of the bed for Raihn to sleep on.

Making your way back to your bed and crawling under the covers, the wolf took that as his cue to lay down too. You fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow. The last thing you heard was Raihn’s voice, I missed you too.

No nightmares plagued you that night as you got the best sleep you had in over 10 years.

****

You awoke a little before noon to the sound of Raihn’s growl and Lucien’s voice.

“Mother’s tits!” Lucien whisper-yelled, his hands held up like he was trying to show Raihn he meant no harm.

Raihn only lowered his head and growled even louder, baring his teeth at the red haired male. Lucien’s throating bobbing as he remained still. “Relax, fox boy.”

Lucien didn’t look at you as he asked, “Does he bite?”

“Not me.” He didn’t have to look at you to know you were smirking.

“Y/n, please!”

You huffed, “Fine. Raihn stop scaring him.”

The large wolf turned his head slowly to face you, Is he a friend?

“Uh. . . no, not really.” You replied, answering his question.

Lucien's eyes flickered between Raihn and you, “No, what?”

“He asked if you were a friend.”

“And you said no!”

You shrugged, “You never asked me.”

Raihn stalked closer and Lucien began apologizing, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

Getting up from the bed to stand between them, hissing when you moved too fast. Raihn snapped his head at you, Get back in bed, he ordered.

Patting his side, “Stop fussing, I’m fine,” pushing him further back into the room to give Lucien some space. “What are you doing in here anyway, Lucien?”

“Tamlin wants to take Feyre on a ride, to show her something.”

“And,” you arched a brow at him, even though he was still looking at the wolf behind you.

He finally looked at you, his mouth opening and then closing, before opening again, “And… I want to take you.”

“All right.”

“All right?”

“Yeah, just let me change.” You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else as you pushed him out the door and got ready. Raihn huffing behind you.

****

By the time Raihn and you got to the front doors, Tamlin, Lucien and Feyre were already saddled on their horses.

Again no one said anything, Tamlin and Feyre were just gaping in shock and Lucien was just staring as Raihn lowered himself so you could get on his back. Once you were seated he began walking, Lucien’s horse keeping pace beside you.

Then Tamlin came up on your other side, “Is that a wolf?”

“Are we in the Spring Court?” You asked him, sarcasm dripping off of every word.

“Yes.” He answered.

“Then yes, Tamlin. This is a wolf.” Lucien snorted beside you as you patted Raihn’s neck. Tamlin glared at him and he pretended to cough.

“Is he your pet?” Raihn’s responding growl made the High Lord stiffen.

“No,” you laughed. “No, he’s not. Raihn and I are Ceangailte."

Tamlin’s face paled as he looked at Lucien but Lucien was looking at you. Then he whispered, “You’re bonded to each other?”

“Yes, Lucien, we are.”

Raihn let out a pleased noise and you smiled softly.

“What’d he say?” Lucien asked.

“I am his and he is mine, from now until the darkness claims us.”

****

When you all finally arrived at the place Tamlin wanted to show Feyre, it was an hour or two past noon. The light still thick and golden. It was a glen, a beautiful glen.

Lucien had already sat down on the blanket they brought and Tamlin had gone to where Feyre was a couple feet ahead.

“Y/n,” he patted the space on the blanket next him, “sit.”

You looked at him and then back at the trail beyond, “Uh, I think I’m gonna go for a walk. . . Thank you though.”

“I’ll go with you.” The male was already on his feet and next to you before you could say it wasn’t necessary. “Lead the way.”

“Raihn, stay.” He huffed in annoyance at your order but stayed put.

You and Lucien walked the trail for a bit before veering off in the opposite direction of the pool of starlight. You couldn’t look at it without being homesick for a home you’d never been to. The walk was quiet, the both of you content in just listening to the birds around you singing along with the trees and the sounds of their leaves rustling. But, Lucien broke the silence.

“Are you alright after last night?”

You looked at him, brows furrowed before shaking your head no. “Are you?”

He sighed, “No.”

You knew you shouldn’t ask but curiosity killed the cat and you were the cat. “Did she—did Amaratha do that to you?” You asked softly, gesturing to his scarred eye.

He visibly tensed, jaw clenched as he gave you a tight nod.

“I’m sorry.” And you meant it too. Making a silent promise to scar her face just like she’d scarred his.

He stopped walking and you turned to look at him. Lucien searched your face for any insincerity and when he found none he merely thanked you. Then continued to walk.

You both walked until you came across a beautiful bluish green colored lake with a dock. Lucien bent down to roll up his pants and take off his boots. “What are you doing?” You asked him.

“We are going to dip our toes in the water, sweetheart,” his lips settling into a playful smirk.

Lucien sat beside you on dock, his hands splayed behind him as the both of you kicked your feet gently through the water. You were so lost in your own thoughts while staring at the rippling water that you didn’t hear him calling to you.

“Y/n!” He whisper-yelled.

“What?”

His eyes were wide and the corners of his mouth were upturned as he gestured in front of you, across the narrow lake. Where dozens upon dozens of different animals were staring at you, but standing proud, front and center was the Ruler of the Forest.

But you knew the huge white stag with great antlers as the Lord of the North.

He stretched out one of his forelegs and bent the other, before bowing his head. His dark eyes never left yours as you bowed your head to him in return. Then he and the other animals followed and it was as if they were never there.

Lucien cleared his throat, getting your attention, “Listen, I don’t know who or what you are but. . . I know you’re different.” If he saw you tense he didn’t mention it. “You don’t have to tell me. Yet, because you’re different I’m gonna tell you something.” You finally looked at him and nodded for him to continue.

He let out a deep sigh before he began to speak again, “I’ve endured things that make times like last night. . . difficult. Not just the scar and the eye—though last night brought back memories of that, too.” You turned so you could face him better and he met your gaze. “I am the youngest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court." You straightened. "The youngest of seven brothers. The Autumn Court is. . . cutthroat. Beautiful, but my brothers see each other only as competition, since the strongest of them will inherit the title, not the eldest. It is the same throughout Prythian, at every court.”

Which was the reason your mother used a blood spell on you because you were already showing the physical markers of a High Lord's heir. And you were female so that made it even more rare.

“I never cared about it, never expected to be crowned High Lord, so I spent my youth doing everything a High Lord's son probably shouldn't: wandering the courts, making friends with the sons of other High Lords and being with females who were a far cry from the nobility of the Autumn Court." He paused for a moment, and you could almost feel the sorrow before he said, "I fell in love with a faerie whom my father considered to be grossly inappropriate for someone of his bloodline. I told him I didn't care that she wasn't one of the High Fae, that I was certain the mating bond would snap into place soon and that I was going to marry her and leave his court to my scheming brothers." He paused again. His jaw clenching and unclenching as he tried to will away the tears pooling in his eyes, to no avail. "My father had her put down. Executed, in front of me, as two of my eldest brothers held me and made me watch."

Your own eyes had started to fill with tears and Lucien gave you a sad smile when the first one fell down your cheek.

“So. . . I left. Cursed my father, abandoned my title and the Autumn Court, and walked out. And without my title protecting me, my brothers thought to eliminate one more contender to the High Lord's crown. Three of them came out to kill me; one came back."

"You. . . killed them?"

"I killed one," He said. "Tamlin killed the other, as they had crossed into his territory, he was High Lord and could do what he wanted with trespassers threatening the peace of his lands." A cold, brutal, honest statement. "He claimed me as his own—named me emissary, since I'd already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people, while he. . . can find it difficult. I’ve been here ever since."

"As emissary," you began, "have you ever had dealings with your father? Or your brothers?"

"Yes. My father has never apologized, and my brothers are too frightened of Tamlin to risk harming me. But I have never forgotten what they did to her, or what my brothers tried to do to me."

It didn't quite excuse everything Lucien had said and done to you and Feyre, but. . . you understood now. You could understand the walls and barriers he had no doubt constructed around himself. Your chest was too tight, to say anything to him. You knew it wouldn’t comfort him, so you did the only thing you could think of and hugged him. A couple seconds went by and you realized he might not hug you back but when you made to pull away, he gripped your tunic so tightly before he began sobbing into you.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that. You weren’t going to pull away until he did, he needed this. Needed to go through every emotion he’s kept bottled up. And you just rubbed his back and smoothed his long red hair back as he did.

The sun was near setting when Lucien finally pulled away from you and wiped his tear stained cheeks with the sleeve of his tunic. He gave you a sad smile, voice still tight from crying, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” your voice a gentle murmur.

“Gods, I haven’t cried like that in ages.” He said, letting out a chuckle.

“You have too every now and again, it’s good for the soul.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Raihn’s deep, gruff voice sounded in your head, Come back, we're leaving.

All right.

You stood up, putting your boots back on, “Let’s go, Raihn said we’re heading back.”

“All right.” Lucien sniffled before getting to his feet and putting his own boots back on.

****

Feyre seemed tired but surprisingly content from the few hours of swimming and eating and lounging in the glen, she eyed Lucien as you all rode back to the manor that afternoon. You were crossing a broad meadow of new spring grass when he caught her glancing at him for the tenth time, and you braced yourself as he fell back from Tamlin’s side.

The metal eye narrowed on her while the other remained wary, unimpressed. “Yes?”

That was enough to persuade you not to say anything about his past. You would hate pity, too. And he didn’t know you—not well enough to warrant anything but resentment if you brought it up, even if it weighed on you to know it, to grieve for him.

She waited until Tamlin was far enough ahead that even his High Fae hearing might not pick up on her words but you did. “I never got to thank you for your advice with the Suriel.”

Lucien tensed. “Oh?”

You looked at Tamlin beside you, the horse utterly unbothered by his mighty rider. “If you still want me dead,” she said, “you might have to try a bit harder.”

Lucien loosed a breath. “That’s not what I intended, I wouldn’t shed any tears,” he amended. I knew it was true and she probably did too. “But what happened to you—”

“I was joking,” Feyre chuckled.

“You can’t possibly forgive me that easily for sending you into danger.”

“No. And part of me would like nothing more than to wallop you for your lack of warning about the Suriel. But I understand: I’m a human who killed your friend, who now lives in your house, and you have to deal with me. I understand,” She repeated.

He was quiet for long enough that you thought he wouldn’t reply. Just as you were about to drop back, he spoke. “Tam told me that your first shot was to save the Suriel’s life. Not your own.”

“It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“I know far too many High Fae and lesser faeries who wouldn’t have seen it that way—or bothered.” You heard him reach for something at his side and tossed it to her. She had to fight to stay in the saddle as she fumbled for it—a jeweled hunting knife.

“I heard you scream, and I hesitated. Not long, but I hesitated before I came running. Even though Tam got there in time, I still broke my word in those seconds I waited.” He jerked his chin at the knife. “It’s yours. Don’t bury it in my back, please.”

You turned this time to look at him and he gave you a genuine smile and a nod of his head.

Your gaze flickered between the both of them, Feyre now inspecting the knife and him giving you a friendly smile—a silent question. So you smiled back and nodded your head in return, friends then.

****

You gave Raihn a reassuring smile, “I’ll be careful, I promise,” while you finished securing your ash daggers to your body.

I’ll go with you.

“No.”

You’ll be safer with me by your side, he argued.

You sighed, “I’m not saying you’re wrong but, I can’t exactly sneak out with a huge wolf next to me, can I?” His annoyed huff was answer enough as he laid down on the comforters and pillows you had set on the floor for him. Petting the soft fur atop his head, “Sleep, I’ll be back before you know it.”

You know I won’t sleep until you come back.

****

You made your way through the quiet empty halls of the manor, down the staircase and to the door leading towards the garden doors. The sentries were changing shifts and you knew Lucien was on patrol tonight so you took the opportunity, running towards the north-eastern part of the woods. The new cloak you promised the Suriel in hand as you made your way to meet them near the yew tree.

Their fingers clicked twice, “You came,” as they spoke .

“When have I not?” you asked, while offering them the cloak. Looking around as the leaves on the surrounding trees and bushes rustled. Ears straining to hear if something—someone was there.

The Suriel grabbed the cloak and cradled it to their chest, “Thank you, princess—“

“You don’t have to thank me and I’m not a princess. Not anymore.”

They bent down on a knee, “For the kindness you have always shown me,” bowing his head, “you will always be a princess to me.”

Placing a hand on their bony shoulder, “Thank you, old friend.” You heard leaves rustling again, nostrils flaring scenting the air, “Go, someone’s here.”

“Be safe. I do not know when I will see you again but, I have to tell you. You have to know.”

“Know what?” Your brows furrowed as you glanced around trying to see if someone was hiding the shadow covered trees.

“Your mate,” Those two words made you snap your gaze back to the Suriel. “Like you, has fire in their blood. You will find each other on Calanmai. You have always been meant to burn together.”

You felt paralyzed, “What,” you felt your heart pounding. “Who. . . I have a mate?” you said those last four words so quietly you didn’t think the Suriel heard you until they spoke again.

They chuckled, “Yes, darkling, you have a mate. The both of you bound in flames. Bound to each other. He is heir to Autumn and you are heir to Spring. Be safe, Princess, you are of age now and will be affected by Fire Night’s magic.” The Suriel bowed again, “Till we meet again, Princess,” and walked into the dark woods.

You don’t know how long you stood there in shock that you had a mate and in fear that Amarantha would find out and kill him.

You stuck to the shadows as always, making your way back to the manor, mind reeling with possibilities from the information the Suriel gave you before they left. Practically in a trance when Lucien stopped you, still sitting atop his beautiful mare, “Why are you out here so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep. So I came out for a walk.”

He smirked knowingly, “Want to try that again, Princess?”

“Is there a curfew I don’t know about? Am I not allowed to come and go when I want.” Fuck. He heard the Suriel address you as Princess. He was who you heard and scented. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Did he know his brother is your mate? Is he your mate? Fuck.

Lucien chuckled as he swung a powerful leg over his horse, dismounting the beautiful mare and stalking towards you, leaning down so you were face to face, “Who—what are you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrugged, keeping your face an unreadable mask.

He let out a laugh, which sounded more bitter than amused, “So I open up to you, essentially baring my heart and soul to you and you won’t even tell me your real name!”

You didn’t try to cover the hurt that flashed across your face, as you yelled, “I did tell you my name! Y/n is my name, I haven’t lied about that!”

“But you are lying!”

“No! I just. . . I just haven’t told you everything.”

“Why?” His narrowed eyes—one russet and one metal—searched your face.

Before you could give him an answer, Raihn’s powerful body was in between you as he gave Lucien a warning. A low growl to back off.

Lucien immediately stepped back, with his hands up showing Raihn he was unarmed. Your wolf growled once more, his lip curled back in a snarl. Did he harm you?

“No,” you mumbled.

No, what ? Raihn asked tightly.

“No, he didn’t hurt me.”

Tell him if he does, I will take his remaining eye and eviscerate him where he stands.

You furrowed your brows and couldn’t stop the burst of laughter from leaving your lips as you howled in laughter, “That’s a little dramatic but, no. I’m not telling him that.”

Tell him or I will take his remaining eye.

Your mouth opened but Lucien’s voice cut you off, “Tell me what?”

You looked at Lucien, then at Raihn, “I’m not telling him.”

Tell. Him. Now. The massive wolf order.

“Fine,” you huffed, rolling your eyes, “Raihn said that if you hurt me he will take your remaining eye and eviscerate you where you stand.” Turning to look at Raihn again, even though he was still focused on Lucien, “Happy?”

Not even close.

Lucien’s face turned a sickly pale, no doubt imagining the painful painting Raihn, painted for him. Without another word he turned and mounted his horse. Before he could set her into a walk you a poke, “I wish I could tell you but I can’t. I just can’t, I’m sorry.”

He only nodded his head once and then left.

****

Weeks passed, the days melting together.

The first couple weeks everyone was afraid of Raihn, especially Alis, since she’d just come into your room and he snapped at her. At least he’d been sorry but since then she was wary of him. Feyre got used to him—sort of, Tamlin and Lucien did too. The other servants just tried to avoid him.

Lucien never talked about the night you had argued and Tamlin never said anything about it either. So he must not have told him that he found you outside the manor in the middle of the night. Instead Lucien just pretended it had never happened, which somehow bothered you more.

Feyre and Tamlin had grown closer over time. Well that’s what she told you at least; gentle, soft kisses, and longing touches. He’d even gifted her art supplies and given her a space to paint. The smile she’d given you when she told you was pure happiness and you wanted her to stay like that—happy. All she wanted before was time and tools to paint and now she had them so, paint she did. She never wanted anyone to see them but she would let you and ask for your opinion on certain colors. Sometimes she dared to paint the High Lord, who rode at her side when they wandered his grounds on lazy days—the High Lord, whom she was happy to talk to or spend hours in comfortable silence with. While you spent your days with Lucien or the other sentries; patrolling and training.

Just like today, Lucien and you were getting ready to change shifts and were heading back towards the manor. You cleared the little wood, a spread of hills and knolls laid out ahead. In the distance, there were masked faeries atop many of them, building what seemed to be unlit fires. You halted, they were setting up for Fire Night.

He halted beside you, “They’re setting up bonfires—for Calanmai—Fire Night. It’s in two days,” he explained.

Fire Night. Your brows furrowed and you shook your head.

“It’s just a spring ceremony. We light bonfires, and the magic that we create helps regenerate the land for the year ahead.”

You clenched and unclenched your hands, “I know what it is.”

He rubbed his neck, “Oh. . . It’s just the way you said it, I thought you didn’t know what it was.”

“No, I just didn’t know it was in two days.” You shook your head again and gave Raihn the silent command to start walking again. Lucien did the same with his horse.

“You might see more faeries around than usual—faeries from this court, and from other territories, who are free to wander across the borders that night.”

You nodded your head before letting out a sharp breath, “I thought Amarantha had scared most of them away or trapped them Under the Mountain,” Glancing back at the unlit bonfires hoping that they wouldn’t be there. That maybe you were seeing things but they were still there.

“She has—but there will be a number of them. Just. . . stay away from them all. You’ll be safe in the house, but if you run into one before we light the fires at sundown in two days, ignore them.”

“I'm not staying in the house.”

It was his turn to halt this time, “Yes. You are.”

“No. I’m not.” You didn’t give him the chance to argue before telling Raihn mind to mind to get you into the house. Then to go wait in your room while you hid behind a massive pot in the garden.

You saw the moment Tamlin went rigid—it was quiet with that horrible stillness that usually meant one of Amarantha’s ilk was around. Tamlin bared his teeth at. . . Feyre. Fuck. “Stay hidden, and no matter what you overhear, don’t come out,” He ordered her.

Then he was gone.

She looked to either side of the gravel path, like some gawking idiot. You hoped she wouldn’t move because if she did she would fuck everything up. She had just ducked behind a hedge when you heard Tamlin and Lucien approaching. You silently swore and froze. Then Tamlin’s snarl rippled through the air on the other side of the hedge she was hiding behind.

“I know what day it is,” Tamlin said—but not to Lucien. To the Attor. Him and his brothers still plagued your dreams.

“Your continued behavior is garnering a lot of interest at court,” the Attor said, deep and sibilant. You shivered, despite the warmth of the day. “She has begun wondering—wondering why you haven’t given up yet. And why four Naga wound up dead not too long ago.”

“Tamlin’s not like the other fools,” Lucien snapped, his shoulders pushed back to raise himself to his full height, more warrior-like than you’d yet seen him.“If she expected bowed heads, then she’s more of an idiot than I thought.”

The Attor hissed, and your blood went cold at the noise. “Speak you so ill of she who holds your fate in her hands? With one word, she could destroy this pathetic estate. She wasn’t pleased when she heard of you dispatching your warriors.” The Attor now seemed turned toward Tamlin. “But, as nothing has come of it, she has chosen to ignore it.”

There was a deep-throated growl from the High Lord, but his words were calm as he said, “Tell her I’m getting sick of cleaning up the trash she dumps on my borders.”

The Attor chuckled, the sound like sand shifting. “She sets them loose as gifts—for you—and reminders of what will happen if she catches you trying to break the terms of—”

“He’s not,” Lucien snarled. “Now, get out. We have enough of your ilk swarming on the borders we don’t need you defiling our home, too. For that matter, stay the hell out of the cave. It’s not some common road for filth like you to travel through as they please.”

Tamlin loosed a growl of agreement.

The Attor laughed again, such a horrible, vicious sound. “Though you have a heart of stone, Tamlin,” it said, and Tamlin went rigid, “you certainly keep a host of fear inside it.” The Attor’s voice sank into a croon. “Don’t worry, High Lord.” It spat the title like a joke. “All will be right as rain soon enough.”

“Burn in Hell,” Lucien replied for Tamlin, and he laughed again before a flap of leathery wings boomed, a foul wind bit your face, and everything went silent.

They breathed deeply after another moment. You closed your eyes, needing a steadying breath as well but Feyre yelped. You stood without hesitating, ash daggers in hand.

“It’s gone,” Tamlin said, releasing her. It was all you could do not to sag against the hedges.

“What did you hear?” Lucien demanded—from the both of us, coming around the corner and crossing his arms. Shifting your gaze to Tamlin’s face, but found it to be so white with anger—anger at that thing—that you had to look again at Lucien.

“Nothing—I. . . well, nothing I understood,” Feyre said, and meant it.

You looked back at Tamlin as you said one word, “Everything.”

“If the Attor saw them—” Lucien said, glancing around.

“It didn’t,” Tamlin said.

“Are you certain it—”

“It didn’t,” Tamlin growled over his shoulder, then looked at Feyre and you, his face still pale with fury, lips tight. “I’ll see you both at dinner.”

Understanding a dismissal, and craving the locked door of your bedroom, you trudged back to the house, contemplating telling Feyre who Amarantha was and why she was able to make Tamlin and Lucien so nervous and to command that thing as her messenger. But you couldn’t and you hated yourself for it.

****

After a tense dinner during which Tamlin hardly spoke to Lucien, Feyre or you, you walked out onto the balcony that was attached to your room and climbed onto the roof. And slept under the stars that night.

You went outside the following day but didn’t venture into the woods. Raihn and you were merely sprawled underneath an Oak Tree that was near the house’s private garden. Alis brought breakfast and lunch out to you knowing you wouldn’t have eaten otherwise. Too lost in the thought of tomorrow being Fire Night, the thought of meeting your mate and what would or could happen.

She had tried asking me what was wrong but you couldn’t tell her. How could you when your mates life was at risk just because he was mated to you. You knew Alis wouldn’t tell anyone if you asked her not too yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The instinct to protect your mate at all costs was overriding everything.

****

The day of Fire Night—Calanmai dawned, and you didn’t see Tamlin or Lucien all day. As the afternoon shifted into dusk, you found yourself sliding your blue cloak so dark it was nearly black over your shoulders as you headed towards the doors of your balcony, Raihn following close behind, “Stay here. No one can see you.”

He growled.

You sighed, making your way towards him.

Once you were face to face with him, you cradled his head in your hands, pressing your forehead to his, “Please. You have to stay here. They’re not only hunting me and. . . and if something were to happen to you. I—I wouldn’t survive it. And it wouldn’t be because of the bond. I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt.”

And if you get hurt. . . He let out a distressed whine at the thought.

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

You heard him inhale, scenting you as if you wouldn’t be coming back. Without another word you walked out onto the balcony, giving Raihh a smile reserved only for him, then jumped off.

The sound of drums issued.

The drumbeats came from far away—beyond the garden, past the game park, into the forest that lay beyond. They were deep, probing. A single beat, echoed by two responding calls. Summoning.

You stood, staring out over the property as the sky became awash in hues of orange and red. Noting that your senses already felt. . . different.

In the distance, upon the sloping hills that led into the woods, a few fires flickered, plumes of dark smoke marring the ruby sky—the unlit bonfires you’d spotted two days ago. you needed to find your mate, you reminded yourself.

The drums turned faster—louder. Though you’d grown accustomed to the smell of magic after not being around it since you were a child, your nose prickled with the rising tang of metal, stronger than you’d yet sensed it. You took a step forward, behind you, your long shadow seemed to pulse to the beat of the drums.

Even the garden, usually buzzing with the orchestra of its denizens, had quieted to hear the drums. There was a string—a string tied to your gut that pulled you toward those hills, commanding you to go, to hear—to feel the drums. . .

Smoke and magic hung thick in the air. There were hundreds of High Fae milling about, you could identify which court they came from but some you couldn’t.

You stuck to the shadows as best you could as you made your way through the crowd, your human features caused by the blood spell your mother put on you, hidden in the shadows of your hood. You prayed that the smoke and countless scents of various High Fae and faeries were enough to cover your human smell, but you checked to ensure that your ash daggers were still at your sides anyway as you moved deeper into the celebration.

Though a cluster of drummers played on one side of the fire, the faeries flocked to a trench between two nearby hills. You followed them, savoring the pulsing beat of the drums as it resonated through the earth and into the soles of your feet. No one looked twice in your direction.

You almost slid down the steep bank as you entered the hollow. At one end, a cave mouth opened into a soft hillside. Its exterior had been adorned with flowers and branches and leaves, and you could make out the beginnings of a pelt-covered floor just past the cave mouth. What lay inside was hidden from view as the chamber veered away from the entrance, but firelight danced upon the walls.

Whatever was occurring inside the cave—or whatever was about to happen—was the focus of the shadowy faeries as they lined either side of a long path leading to it. The path wended between the trenches among the hills, and the High Fae swayed in place, moving to the rhythm of the drumming, whose beats sounded in your stomach.

You watched them sway, then shifted on then shifted on your feet. The string— the string you felt tugged once. Twice. You scanned the fire lit area, trying to peer through the veil of night and smoke. You know he’s here. Your mate. But you hadn’t found him. . . Not yet.

None of the masked faeries paid you any heed. They remained along the path, more and more of them coming each minute. The Great Rite was going to begin soon then.

You made your way back up the hillside and stood along the edge of a bonfire near the trees, watching the faeries. You were about to make your way towards the shadow covered woods, your senses were beginning to feel more fae—more animalistic than fae, when someone grasped your arm and whirled you around.

Lucien.

He snarled in your face, “What are you doing out here? Twisting out of his hold, he huffed, “I told you to stay in the house.”

“And I told you no.”

He sighed deeply, “Y/n, you can’t just do whatever—" he turned to look at what you were staring at and when he didn’t see it, he looked back at you. “—What the fuck are you looking at?”

Grabbing his face, turning his head, “Feyre.” There she was, your sister with a high fae whose black hair gleamed like a raven’s feathers. He had blue eyes that were so deep they were violet. You’d know those eyes anywhere. He was the High Lord of Night.

Rhysand.

Lucien cursed violently, then went to Feyre. You were stuck in your spot looking where Rhysand once stood. He was alive. . . He was here. You had to find him. You needed to talk to him.

You scanned the crowd frantically trying to find him, the darkness beyond the crowd beckoned you, called to you and you felt eyes watching you. But, everytime you tried to follow it, the string that had been tugging all night pulled you away, farther and farther.

Without realizing it you’d rejoined the crowd and Lucien appeared next to you. The drum beats picked up, making the flames of the bonfires flicker with each pulse. He was standing so close to you, you could feel the radiating heat of his body and scent his arousal but, not just his, the other faeries too.

His eyes settled on your lips and tracked the way your tongue swept over them as you licked them. He took a step forward, reaching to cup your face when suddenly a tall high fae male had a dagger pressed against your tanned throat.

“Thank you for finding her for me, brother.” The male with the same red hair as Lucien said, but instead of russet eyes his were amber.

Standing before you was the most beautiful male you’d ever seen and the string in your chest seemed to glow and warm in response to his presence.

Brother. His brother. Your mate, he found you.

Lucien snarled at him, “Eris, if you hurt her—“ The tip of his dagger pushing into the soft pale skin of his brother’s throat.

“He won’t,” you cut him off. “He won’t hurt me. Will you, Eris?”

His lips were set in a feral grin that would make anyone else run but, you weren’t just anyone. “Never, little flame,” he promised.

For other parts: Bound In Flames Series Masterlist

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12

Taglist: @historygeekqueen @cat-or-kitten @yeeyeebabe @khaleesihavilliard @impossibelle @sleepylunarwolf @cutie232 @meepmeep-318 @belledawnidk @fandomrejects @wasntpriscilla @brandywineeeee @consultinghuntresshasthetardis

*If you would like to be added to the taglist for this story or to my general taglist, please either reply to this post or send me a message.

[george-weasleys-girl]

Heyy, could you write something where the reader is jealous? You can choose if you want to write about Fred or George

Thank you for your request! This is a long one. It really took on a life of its own. I hope you like it.

~•~

George x Fem Reader

~•~

George’s laughter carried across the store, bringing a smile to your face. You turned to see what had delighted him so much and immediately regretted it. Your heart plummeted, and sullen glower replaced your smile as you watched him chat with the bouncy, vapid woman who'd started coming into the shop at least once a week, making a beeline straight to George every time. She obviously had a thing for him, and from the looks of it, he was developing a thing for her.

You just couldn't understand why George would be even remotely attracted to her. Sure, she was pretty, but she was also dumb as a stump. You'd talked to her a few times and were convinced she had a maximum of two brain cells bouncing around in her skull, one of which was solely responsible for keeping her alive.

You looked back up to see George, smiling wide, enraptured by whatever nonsense she was babbling as she twirled her precious little curls around her index finger.

Wiping away the tears from your eyes, you went back to stocking the Canary Creams, slamming them down on the display, startling the elderly lady perusing the shelf next to you.

"Sorry, ma'am," you apologized. "Rough day." The woman huffed and shook her head before scurrying off to the other side of the store.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging in defeat. You knew you had no right to be jealous. George was your boss, not your boyfriend. He could flirt with whoever the hell he wants. If your heart got broken in the process, it was your own damn fault for falling for him.

~•~

George watched as you tidied up a display of Fainting Fancies. When he hired you two years ago, he was exhausted and frazzled and was looking for people who could learn the ropes quickly and help out in the newly reopened shop until Fred recovered from the spinal injury he'd gotten during the Battle of Hogwarts.

In no time, you were all but running the store, allowing him to spend more time with his twin. He was eternally grateful, but it wasn't until around six months later that he saw you as anything more than a valued employee.

At that point, Fred had started working for a couple of hours a day. But he was still fragile, and one afternoon, he lost his balance and fell. You did two things that day that endeared you to George forever. While he ran to help Fred, you somehow managed to keep both the customers and other employees away from the area, saving Fred from the embarrassment of being seen sprawled out on the floor.

Then, after spending several hours at the hospital, followed by the difficult task of getting a very stubborn and very grumpy Fred settled into bed, George wanted nothing more than to just fall flat on his face in bed, or on the couch or even the floor. All three sounded equally appealing. But he couldn't. Fred needed to eat, and he probably should, too.

He'd just decided to use magic to whip up some chicken fingers and french fries when someone knocked on the door, causing a confused look to cross his face. It couldn't be one of the employees. The shop had long since closed, and everybody had gone home. And he knew it wouldn't be his mum. Fred had made him promise not to tell the family he'd fallen. He didn't want them "worrying over nothing."

George opened up the door to find you standing there with a huge bowl of spaghetti and some freshly baked garlic bread. "Hey," you said a little shyly. "I figured you'd probably be exhausted when you got home, so I thought I'd make dinner for you and Fred. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" A massive smile replaced the confusion on George's face. "No, I don't mind at all, come in!" He opened the door wider. "You are an absolute angel for doing this. How did you know we were home?"

"I didn't," you replied. "But I still have the flat key you gave me, so I could check in on Fred when you got wrapped up with customers. I thought I'd just leave it on the counter with a spell cast to keep it nice and hot."

For a moment, George looked like he might cry, but then he smiled again. "Would you like to join us for dinner? Well, really me. Fred will take his dinner in bed."

"Well, I've already eaten," you said, watching his face fall. "But I can never turn down a slice of garlic bread."

"Ok, great!" He replied. "Just let me get Fred set up."

You smiled. "Shall I get him a plate together?"

"Thank you! That would be wonderful," George said as he hurried into Fred's bedroom.

That was the night George Weasley fell in love with you.

~•~

You managed to make it through the rest of the morning without breaking down. By the time your lunch break rolled around, you had reigned your emotions back under control.

You sat outside on the little patio behind the shop, nibbling on your sandwich and mulling over the situation. You'd never intended to fall in love with George. In fact, you'd never intended to work at the joke shop at all. You'd taken the job out of sheer desperation.

While at Hogwarts, you discovered you had a knack for healing, and since you didn't have a clue what you wanted to do after graduation, training as a healer seemed just as good as anything else. As it turned out, you grew to love the work, and for a while, you couldn't imagine doing anything else.

And then the war happened.

You didn't know if it was because you weren't cut out for the raw intensity of being a healer or if it was watching helplessly as people you knew and loved died all around you. Either way, the war broke you.

The very thought of continuing on as healer sent you into paralyzing panic attacks. So, you packed up and moved in with your muggle sister. For the first few months, you carried your weight by doing all the cleaning and cooking and taking on any other chores that needed doing.

It worked well for a while, but your sister didn't have a great paying job, and it soon became evident that you'd need to pitch in financially. You'd hoped to find something in the magical world, but the prospects weren't promising. Most of the business owners had taken to the hills after the return of Voldemort. And, though they were now returning, many of them barely had the means left to restart their business, never mind hiring on help.

The outlook was so bleak that you were beginning to think that working in the muggle world was your only option. Then, one morning, you spied a Help Wanted ad in the Daily Prophet. Within a week, you were working at the infamous Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Then, within a couple of months, you'd become George's right-hand woman, taking on the lion's share of running the shop so he could take care of Fred.

Soon after, George found out you had healing experience and started asking you for advice. Eventually, you were going upstairs to help. More often than not, it was to convince Fred to do something. Or not do something.

"He won't listen to me," George would say. "Maybe he'll listen to you."

That's when your feelings for George began to develop. During those early days, watching him care for his brother with such patience and gentleness, even when Fred was at his worst, won you over.

"I don't need your fucking help!" Fred would yell.

"I know," George would calmly say, "but the healers said you could reverse some of your progress if you try to stand on your own right now. You don't want to end up back in the hospital, do you?"

"No," Fred would huff.

"Good. Now, put your arm around my shoulders so we can get you in your wheelchair."

And now, here you were. Madly in love with a man who'd never feel the same. Who was now falling in love with someone you were certain didn't deserve him or could make him happy. You rolled your eyes. So much for keeping your emotions in check. You balled up what was left of your sandwich and hurled it into the nearby waste bin and then preceded to stomp from one end of the patio to the other, your hands balled into tight fists, until your break was over.

~•~

"Mate, I know you like her," Fred spoke as he and George finished up some paperwork in the office.

"I more than like her, Freddie, but I'm her boss for Godric's sake. I can't just start dating an employee."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean, why not?" George stared at his twin. "For one, it's unprofessional, and two, what if it doesn't work out? It would make everything weird."

Fred sighed. "You have a limited time to ask her out. She might quit or meet someone else, and then where will you be?"

George remained silent for a long while, chewing on his thumbnail. "Maybe you're right," he said finally.

"Of course I'm right," Fred smirked. "So, are you going to do it?"

"Yeah," George half-grinned. "I'm gonna ask her out."

~•~

You'd finished up with your closing duties and headed upstairs to see if George or Fred needed you to do anything else before you left.

Their office door was open, just a crack. You lifted your hand to knock when you heard Fred's cheeky voice. "Of course I'm right. So are you gonna do it?"

"Yeah," George answered. "I'm gonna ask her out."

It was if someone had punched you in the gut. George was going to ask Miss Vapid out. You clamped your mouth over your hand to cover the sob that fell from your lips unbidden and backed away from the door as quietly as possible. As soon as you were out of earshot, you turned and fled the shop.

~•~

"Did she just leave?" George made one more turn around the store. "Without saying anything?"

"That's not like her," Fred said.

"No. It isn't," George raked his fingers through his hair. "I hope everything's alright."

~•~

You barely slept that night, and when you did, your dreams were plagued with images of George laughing with his soon to be girlfriend, holding her hand, kissing her. You'd wake up in tears, followed by another hour of tossing and turning, before dozing back off and starting the whole vicious cycle over again.

When the sun finally crested the horizon, you drug yourself out of bed and headed to the kitchen. Luckily, today was your day off, and you fully intended to start it off right. With a glass of wine or two or maybe ten. You were exhausted, sore, and heartsick, and you just didn't want to feel anymore.

You'd just finished off your second glass when someone knocked on the door. You rolled your eyes. Who the hell is here, ruining my perfectly good pity party at... you looked down at your watch, the fucking ass-crack of dawn?

~•~

George spent the night pacing from one end of the apartment to the other.

Why would you just leave like that?

Were you feeling ill?

Or did something happen yesterday?

Did he or Fred say something stupid and hurt your feelings?

Why didn't you just come and talk to him if that was the case?

He'd almost sent you an owl at least 782 times last night, but chickened out every time. And of course, today was your day off. So that meant he'd spend the next twenty-four hours worrying himself sick over you.

"George, have you slept at all?" Fred shuffled out of his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"No."

Fred sighed and went to put on a pot of coffee. "Why don't you just go and talk to her?"

"Don't you think that'd be a bit weird. Me, her boss, showing up on her doorstep at 7am, wondering why she left work without saying goodbye."

"At this point, Georgie, who the fuck cares? You're going to make yourself physically ill if you don't find out what's going on."

George rubbed a hand over his face. "Ok. Yeah. You're right. But I need about a gallon of coffee first."

Fred opened up one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out a thermos. "Take it with you, mate."

~•~

You swung the door open, ready to give whoever it was a piece of your mind, and froze when you saw George standing there. He looked exactly like you felt. Good thing he's not flying anywhere, your tipsy self thought briefly. He'd have to check in the bags under his eyes before they'd let him on the plane.

"Why are you here?" The words came out sharper than you intended it, causing George to take a step back.

"I, um, I was worried about you," he fumbled. "You left without saying goodbye yesterday."

"You're here at seven in the morning because I didn't say goodbye?"

"Well, yeah... that's not like you. At all. I was worried something had happened yesterday."

Worried something had happened yesterday? You almost laughed in his face. "Come on in," you said. "I'm gonna need another glass of wine for this one. Want one?"

George followed you into the living room. "Love...why are you drinking? How much have you had?"

You shrugged and upended your glass and then wiped your mouth on your sleeve. "Why do you care? I can do what I want in my free time. You're just my boss. It's not like you're my boyfriend or anything."

He visibly flinched at the last comment, but at this point, you didn't care.

"I really am worried. Something happened yesterday. Please tell me what it was. I want to help."

This time, you did laugh. "You really wanna know what happened yesterday? I realized that I'm a fucking idiot. That's what happened yesterday."

"I - I don't understand," George searched her eyes for any clues.

"No, of course you wouldn't. And it's not your fault. Not really. And I shouldn't be angry with you, but I am," you rambled. "It's my own fault for being stupid. And I'm gonna keep being stupid as long as I'm working there. So, yeah, I'm giving you my two week notice."

"What?! How we go from you saying you're stupid to you quitting?"

"It doesn't matter." You reached for the wine bottle, but George grabbed it first and moved it out of your reach.

"Hey!" You tried to grab it back, but he stood, took it to the kitchen, and emptied the rest of it into the sink.

"Why the fuck did you do that?"

"Because you're done with it," George tossed the empty bottle in the trash. "And we're going to work through whatever the fuck this is."

You sighed. "There's nothing to work through. I'm quitting, and that's that."

"No." George said simply.

"No? What do you mean, no?"

"I'm not letting you quit."

"As if you have a choice in the matter," you said. "Why do you care anyway? You'll find someone to replace me easily enough. Probably someone who's better than me."

"No," George repeated. "No one can replace you. There's no one better than you."

You shook your head and stood, turning away from him. "Not even your new girlfriend," you muttered under your breath.

"My new girl - what are you talking about?"

Shit. You didn't mean for him to hear that.

"What new girlfriend?" He asked again.

Something about the way he said it, with such shock and indignation, as if he had no idea what you were talking about, set you off, and you rounded on him. "Mindy or Wendy or whatever the fuck her name is!"

He looked genuinely confused for a moment, and then realization hit. "You mean Cindy? Cindy Fletcher? Why in Godric's name would I want to date her?"

"I don't know," you threw your hands in the air. "You tell me. You were all up in her face yesterday, hanging on to her every word."

"She was telling me about her muggle cousins new invention, and it sounded really cool and - " George paused. "Wait, why do you care so much who I talk to?"

"I - I don't," you stammered. "Just forget it. Just forget I said anything at all."

"Are you - jealous?"

You turned your back to him again. "Don't be ridiculous."

"You are, aren't you?" There was surprise in his voice and something else you couldn't quite place.

He moved to stand before you. "Do you," he hesitated for a moment. "Like me? Like as more than just your boss or your friend?"

The tears you'd been fighting to hold back poured down your cheeks. There was no denying it now. "Yes, I like you! Ok? I more than like you. But you're my boss - "

George pulled you into his arms, silencing you with a kiss. Your first instinct to anyone kissing you unexpectedly was to push them away. But then it dawned on you what was happening. Did George like you back? Apparently so, otherwise he wouldn't be kissing you right now. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

~•~

"I've been wanting to do that for ages," George confessed. You were cuddled on the sofa, refusing to let go of one another.

"Me too," you smiled. "Why did you never say anything?"

George shrugged. "I'm your boss. It would've been inappropriate. And what if things didn't work out? Talk about awkward. Us trying to work together."

"Hm," you nodded. "So does that mean I should still quit?"

"If it means I can keep kissing you like that, I'll fire you right now."

You giggled. "I don't think that will be necessary."

"Good," he said. "The place would fall apart without you."

"Pfft, don't be silly," you scoffed.

George pulled back a little so he could look at your face. "I'm not. I'm being dead serious. The shop would fall apart without you. And so would I."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the only thing that came out were the words you'd been holding back for so long. "I love you, George Weasley."

His smile melted your heart. "I love you, too," he said and pulled you in for another kiss.

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @qmylovexoxo @planetkt @costheticbabe @drama-queen-fromthevault @thatonepersonwhocantwrite @smallsweetvanillabean @themaraudersslut @hanne-montana

[magnifythesun]

ianthony prompt: Anthony competing for attention for an oblivious Ian vs a protective cast over their papa ian hehe

heehee this one is cute, thanks for the prompt!!

(post writing note: trying to tread these character dynamics yet keep it feeling realistic is such a fun challenge! I hope I succeeded! this ended up being way more about the aftermath of a situation like this than examples of it happening lol but i hope you enjoy anyway)

When Anthony returned to Smosh, his first goal was to speedrun as many types of new videos on Smosh Pit and Games as possible. Try Not to Laugh, 2 Truths 1 Lie, Reading Reddit Stories, on and on the list went. His schedule was packed. Yet even during the chaos, Anthony started to notice a pattern.

When it was just him and the cast without Ian during a shoot, everything felt surprisingly comfortable. The big ensemble cast ones too, like the slapping video, great vibes all around (bit of a painful cheek though). They were all meshing so well, so quickly, and Anthony was eternally grateful that they were welcoming him with open arms. There was just one thing.

When a video was just him, Ian, and a couple other cast members, he was getting the strangest feeling. Not that they didn't want him there, he was pretty sure. That was the feeling he'd been afraid he'd get when he first came back. Rather, he got the feeling that they were constantly trying to pull attention away from him. Well, not the attention of the viewers. Just Ian's attention.

Anthony knew that he and Ian could get a little wrapped up in themselves sometimes. He couldn't really help it; with their long history together, they had a lot of inside jokes and an acute sense of what joke would break the other immediately. So they would share a glance and suddenly be laughing, giggling over some stupid joke like a couple of teenagers again, and it would be as if there were no other people in the room.

And each time, promptly, one of the other people there would interrupt, saying Ian's name, asking him a sudden question or pointing out something else so that Ian would look over there. Sometimes they'd even physically move Ian away, subtly of course. At first Anthony hardly noticed, but then it kept happening. And then he realized that often, it was accompanied by an almost pointed look at him by whoever was doing it.

Sometimes, they would get tag-teamed. For example, during a video of a light-hearted Mario Party competition, he and Ian were starting to 'yes, and' each other into oblivion, grinning and carrying on over some joke from a ten-year-old video, when suddenly Angela was pulling Ian's arm and getting him to react to something on the screen while Chanse tapped on Anthony's shoulder to show him a trick on the controller. Before Anthony knew it, somehow Angela had swapped spots with Ian on the couch. A little off-kilter, Anthony just bantered with Chanse for the rest of the video instead. To be fair, Chanse had a very similar sense of humor to Ian, so it actually went very well. Still, Anthony just couldn't tell why stuff like this kept happening.

He felt a little confused, and from that was a vague sense of hurt. Had he done something wrong? Ian never seemed to notice, so Anthony tried to push the whole thing to the back of his mind. Surely he was just reading too much into it.

On another video, Anthony, Ian, Arasha, and Courtney were facing off in Everybody 1, 2, Switch. When they went to pick teams, Anthony reached out a hand, ready to pull Ian to his side of the room, when Courtney suddenly popped up beside him, snagging his arm and raising it to the sky in victory.

"Anthony's my partner," They said gleefully, shooting a glance at Arasha, who was herding Ian to her side of the room.

"Heck yeah, dad and son team," Ian said, a little grin on his face as they high-fived. He shot a playful glare at Courtney and Anthony. "You're going down!"

"Dickbiscuit!" Arasha chimed in, looking like the cat who ate the canary.

"Gotta give them their father-son time, Anthony!" Courtney said, rather pointedly, and Anthony got that feeling again. Like there was a plot against him, but he wasn't sure why. It left a sour feeling in his stomach, and he felt bad about it. Anthony definitely didn't mind being on a team with Courtney instead of Ian, but why did it feel like she and Arasha didn't want him to be on a team with Ian?

It was time. He was at a point in his life where he'd rather just talk about something instead of letting the poisonous thoughts rot inside him. Right after they wrapped the video, he walked over to Courtney.

"Hey, could I talk to you over there?" Anthony asked quietly, trying to make sure Ian couldn't hear.

Courtney gave him an inquisitive look. "Yeah sure!" They headed to the little hallway behind the set walls. "What's up?"

Anthony shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Well, uh. Well, first of all, I may be totally misreading this."

Even as he spoke, he could tell he probably wasn't. Courtney's eyes had sharpened with understanding, and a slightly guilty yet defiant look was coming over her face.

"I've just been noticing—" He paused, thinking how best to say it. "Well, nothing specific, I don't think, but I can't help but feel like..." He took a quick breath and just got it over with. "Sometimes in these smaller videos with Ian, it feels like you guys don't really want Ian to talk to me?" He glanced at Courtney, stomach sinking as he continued, the worst fear coming to his tongue. "Or maybe you guys don't want me there?"

Courtney didn't look defiant at all anymore, now more gut-punched in a way that made Anthony feel terrible. Could he really have been misreading it all so badly?

"Or, maybe not!" He put his hands out placatingly. "I'm so sorry, I think I was maybe reading too much into things?"

"Oh god, well, no, um," Courtney stammered. "Look, I'm sorry too. You haven't been misreading."

Anthony's stomach dropped. They didn't want him here?

Courtney must have seen his expression and she reached out to grab his arm reassuringly. "Oh my god, not about not wanting you here. We're all really happy you're back, Anthony. This has been amazing."

The emotional whiplash was really starting to get to him. "Oh. Well, that's good!" He smiled weakly.

"We've just been," She paused thoughtfully, "A little protective over Ian, I think. There's an element of, you know, what if you decide this isn't for you after all, and leave again." She looked down, and continued quietly. "I think it'd wreck him, honestly."

Anthony's heart seized and he took in a shaky breath. "I can promise you," He said firmly. "That won't happen. He put a hand on their arm too, squeezing lightly to try and emphasize how serious he was. "This is what I want to be doing, full-stop. And running this whole thing with Ian means more to me than, than anything in the world."

Courtney smiled at him, a shaky, slightly teary thing. "I think, deep-down, despite our fears, we could see that. It's obvious every time you look at him."

Anthony dropped his arm and dipped his head, a little embarrassed. "Well, I can't help but be excited about it, you know?"

Courtney laughed, "I'm sure. There is one other aspect to the whole thing you've been sensing though."

Anthony looked back up apprehensively.

"With you around, he doesn't do the bits he's built up with everyone else as much!" She laughed again, clearly more at herself this time. "It's silly, but we're all a bit jealous!"

"Oh. Oh!" Anthony didn't really know what to say. He raised his hands up guiltily and said, "Whoops."

Courtney covered her mouth to try to laugh more quietly. They were still only separated by the wall of the set from the crew, and presumably, Ian.

Anthony started laughing too, rather relieved about the whole thing. He'd been so worried that there was some really big grievance the whole cast been hiding, an anvil dangling, ready to drop on his head. "It's just like you said, right?" Anthony said as he caught his breath. "Gotta give them their father-son time!"

"Exactly!" Courtney beamed at him.

Anthony smiled, but he felt compelled to continue. "Look, I just want to reiterate. About the leaving thing."

"Yeah?" Courtney said.

"I just," There was a dragging pain in his chest like the words were being pulled out of him. "I love him, you know?"

He'd said it before to Ian, that he loved him, best friend to best friend. But there was something about saying it now, to Courtney, secretly behind this set wall like this. It was haunting almost, like a specter sneaking up behind him to tilt his world permanently on its axis. He wasn't unfamiliar with the feeling. It was often associated with something he needed to work out in therapy.

He shook it off, took a breath. "I never want to hurt him like that again. He means so much to me. I won't let us fall apart like that again."

Courtney tilted her head slightly, narrowed eyes studying his. His breath felt caught in his chest. A moment, then, "Woah." Her expression brightened, suddenly mischievous.

Anthony blinked at her. "What?"

They grinned, "No, no, nothing, haha!" They had that funny wild look in their eyes that usually only came out for the cameras.

"What?" Anthony asked again, a slightly unnerved smile taking over his face.

Courtney shook her head. "No, um, you know? I think this changes things! Sorry about everyone, haha, we're just— well, you know, he's our guy, our 'Smosh single dad,' 'the dad who stepped up,' our 'single working mother,' whatever! We were all just a bit protective of him, but hey look!" She threw her hands out like she was pitching a deal. "I'll pass the message along, that you're, well, uh. That you, um. That there's nothing to worry about here! Just leave some Ian for the rest of us, yeah?"

Courtney started to back away, looking like they were going to bolt and Anthony was so confused. "Sorry about that by the way? I didn't realize I was stealing him," Anthony said.

"No you, well—" Courtney stopped. "Anthony, you do know that whenever you're there, Ian's like, fixated on you, yeah?"

Anthony had not realized that and he was not quite sure why his chest felt all at once like he had just performed a long, far too strenuous yoga session. He kept looking at her as if an explanation would be forthcoming, but Courtney was just looking back at him with wide eyes.

In this moment that felt like it resided somewhere on the spectrum of Wild West duels, Ian came around the corner.

"Oh hey," He said, and then frowned at them when they both jumped. "What are you two doing behind the set?"

"Hey Ian!" Courtney said brightly, and Anthony could hear that hidden relief underneath. "Great to talk with you, Anthony! See you later!"

Ian watched them leave and then turned back to him, suspiciously.

"Are you two plotting some kind of video?" Ian raised his hand to his chin, thinking. "Like, a prank video on me I'm not supposed to know about or something?"

That would be a great idea, Anthony thought a little deliriously. "I don't know, Ian, I guess you'll have to find out."

Ian narrowed his eyes. "I'll have you know I'm great at getting revenge."

"Oh, should I beware?" Anthony teased, the tight feeling in his chest easing up.

Ian scoffed. "Beware all right. I'll get Arasha on my side and then it'll be all over for you and Courtney."

Anthony grinned and walked over to him, slinging an arm over Ian's shoulders to guide them both out from behind the set. "You know, I keep hearing about Arasha's scheme prowess. Wanna show me whatever video that comes from?"

"Oh god, it's a whole series of videos," Ian said, already pulling out his phone. "Brace yourself, it's a wild ride."

[screamingcrows]

🎲🎲 For whoever you wish, babes <3

Your wish is my command 🫡 You rolled 43 (so close to the answer to the ultimate question of-) "Great, who cares?"

Suggestive, pet play?, power imbalance, MDNI, pet names (doll, sweetheart), use of 'master'

Pantalone's tendency to get lost in the sound of his own voice had come as a surprise, not that it mattered much, the velvety sound was easy enough to get used to. If only he'd talk about something other than mora and his newest acquisitions.

You'd been curled up on one of the plush couches in his office since morning as usual. But since he'd returned from the latest meeting with the rest of the Harbingers, he'd been gripping his pen a little tighter, speaking a fraction louder, and perhaps most importantly, made sure to list every single thing he'd done for them this week.

It wasn't your business to inquire how it had gone, and truthfully, you didn't want to for fear of setting him off. He most likely wasn't paying attention to you anyway, speaking for the sake of it rather than to anyone in particular.

"Great, who cares?"

Despite how much care you normally took around him, your words spilled over before your mind could intervene. Pantalone always teased if it was because you enjoyed riling him up.

There was nothing enjoyable in how his eyes opened just a crack, liquid gold bubbling dangerously.

"Come again doll," his voice soothed your nerves, curling comfortably around you.

You knew by now that it was nothing but show. The weight wasn't that of a lover's hug, but a snake moments from constricting.

"I simply said 'that's great'.."

Lying was risky with him, never taking kindly to even the smallest betrayal. You prayed to whatever would have you that he didn't hear the shake in your voice.

"Did you now?"

Pantalone was smiling when you looked over, the corners of his lips sharp enough that a kiss would end in bloodshed. Your heart hammered in your chest when his right arm reached out, the click of a lock ringing through the office. Every drawer in his desk was locked, but only one of them had its key always inserted.

"Remind me, sweetheart, who picked you up off the frozen streets? Who is it that pampers you, makes sure you never have to go back to that scum?"

A gilded leash was still a leash. Ice ran down your spine when you noticed the riding crop in his hand, bile rising in your throat as a phantom ache from weeks ago when he'd used it last returned.

"You do, Master," soft and placating was the only way forward, the only way to lessen the inevitable.

A brief hum of satisfaction was all it earned you to use his preferred title, but you would take what you could get.

"And who should you be eternally grateful, loyal, to doll? Go on, we've practised this," still soft enough to fool anyone walking by outside, but you recognised the blades that lined his words.

Shaking, you slid down the chair and onto the cold floor, eyes downcast as you hear the click of his heel approach.

Brown leather entered your vision, his shoe pressing down on your thigh, the skin underneath being twisted painfully.

"I shouldn't have to instruct you anymore," his charm had burned out and left the words frigid.

A small sob threatened to wrack your body, hands shaky as they steadied you against the floor. The snap of leather against his palm caused you to jolt, knowing his patience was already worn thin. With tears streaking down your face, you leaned forward and let your tongue dutifully run along the leather, screwing your eyes shut as you tried to drown out the sound of his mirthless chuckle.

[taurusdaylight]

seven days to say i love you

summary. you and jeno can't get enough of spending time together even when you are practically glued to each other's side at any given opportunity. but spending seven days a week for eternity with your favourite person doesn't sound like a bad idea, right?

pairing. college boyfriend! jeno x fem! reader

genre. hockey player! au, college! au, established relationship! au, friends to lovers! au, fluff

word count. 5,108

warnings/tags. none, this is 423% fluff <3 (but please let me know if i did miss out anything!)

a/n. (repost because there was an error... 😔) but hi!! i'm so sorry for the inactivity, i was so busy and couldn't put out my fics like i wanted to. but i'm back with a small something (my first non-jaehyun fic,,) i wrote this a while back and changed like 3/4 of it, and i hope it'll be a fun read!! i also came back to 2.8k notes on jaehyun bolton fic (is that what we're calling it now? yes.) i don’t reply to every comment/reblog/tag because by the time i see them it’s already so late, but i promise i read through and appreciate every single one of them,, thank you a million times!!!!!! i am working on more stuff now that i'm a little more free... so, as jaehyun likes to say, to be continued... :) hope everyone is well!

–

01 MONDAY.

The beginning of the week never failed to come to you in a dreadful manner, as if to make sure that you felt the full force of what most people like to call the Monday blues. Whoever was in charge of making sure that you would experience it, they certainly did not miss you out today as well.

Not that you enjoyed seeing other people suffer, but if there’s one thing that you’re grateful for, it’s the knowledge that you’re probably not the only one who feels this way. Though, the blaring sound of your alarm ringing at seven in the morning is too eerily similar to having someone have a personal vendetta against you, serving as a very unfriendly reminder that it is also the start of the school week. Perhaps, your disdain for Mondays could be attributed to this… but there’s always an exception, right?

Despite your reluctance to attend your morning lecture, you were somehow seated in the lecture theatre by nine, giving you more than enough time to lay out your laptop and the reading materials that you needed for the lesson before it started. 

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, is quite the opposite. Often only going to sleep when the sun is about to rise, Lee Jeno has an unhealthy habit of pulling all-nighters, which causes him to miss his alarm because he’d be so deep in his sleep that he would only be able to hear it after the seventh alarm has gone off, which by then, was most likely the time that he needed to leave his house if he wanted to reach on time. The worst part of this is that he was up all night for the sole reason of wanting to break his record in his mobile games; and he plays so many that even you find it difficult to keep up too. Even when you nagged at him and said that you would complain to his mum, Jeno often dismissed your words as empty threats, still not breaking his bad habit. Reading his text message to you about how he was going to be late again, you could only let out a helpless sigh as you left his message on read.

Jeno announces his appearance by quietly opening the backdoor of the lecture theatre thirty minutes later. He makes his way over to his seat next to you, genuinely appreciating how even though sitting in front is better for your eyesight, you still opted to sit around the last few rows so that it’s easier for him to join the lecture when he comes in late without causing a loud disruption to your peers. 

“Good morning, pretty,” Jeno bends down to whisper in your ear. Removing his crossbody bag, he leaves it in the empty space between you two. Once he settles down, Jeno slides a Venti-sized Hazelnut Latte from Starbucks over to your side of the desk. The rest of the lecture goes by quickly with you and Jeno making silly commentaries about anything and everything.

“Why did you still get me coffee?” you ask Jeno after the lecture had ended, a deep frown etched on your face. “You were already running late, Jeno. You really didn’t have to.” Being late was one thing, and making an additional stop at the café is another, especially because you knew that it was definitely not on the way. 

“Just because,” Jeno replies with a loving smile. The kind of smile where his eyes would curve into beautiful crescents, his pupils almost disappearing because of how wide he is smiling at you. The kind of smile that you’d never get tired of seeing, so much so that you wordlessly lean in to give him a quick peck on the lips to say thank you. 

Perhaps you like Mondays. Mondays with Jeno where you learnt that words left unspoken speak much more volume in expressing one’s heart.

02 TUESDAY.

It’s Tuesday, which means that you and Jeno have some spare time to meet up and study at the café near campus before his hockey practice starts. Study dates with Jeno are admittedly not as productive as you expect them to be, mainly because you often distract each other from getting any actual work done. Because of this, the both of you become public nuisances of some sort, so you had no choice but to study at a café instead of the quiet library. Imagine getting kicked out of the library… that would be an embarrassing sight.

“Jeno, how do you work out the answer to question five? I wasn’t paying attention when Prof taught this...” You look over at Jeno with a sheepish smile, earning a chuckle from him. He isn’t even surprised by your question, guessing that you probably spaced out or dozed off during the lesson.

Without saying a word, Jeno tucks a pencil behind his ear and grabs a piece of rough paper before getting up and shifting to the empty seat next to you, leaving you confused. As if he could read your mind, Jeno speaks again before you could question him. “So that it’ll be easier to explain it to you," he mumbles.

Ironically, the close proximity between the two of you only makes it harder for you to focus, but easier for you to admire his handsome features. Puckered lips, furrowed eyebrows and his gold rimmed glasses slipping down slightly to rest on his nose bridge–Jeno couldn’t look any cuter in this moment as you watch him diligently scribble on the piece of paper. He is seemingly deep in thought about how he should explain this concept to you. Watching how focused Jeno was, you took the chance to lean in, giving him a peck on the cheek before retreating back quickly, chin resting on your palm as your gaze lingers on him, slyly pretending that nothing happened.

“You broke my train of thought!” he grunted. Jeno puts his pencil down and turns to you with an annoyed expression on his face, but swiftly looks back down on the scribbled paper upon making eye contact with you. 

It only dawns on him now that you were staring at him the entire time.

“Don’t do that, you’re distracting me.” His voice is quiet, eyes basically glued to that piece of paper. 

“Sorry, I can’t help it. You’re so handsome and cute.” You pause, seeing a bashful smile appear on his face. “Did you know that a guy is the most attractive when he’s focused?”

“Do you still want my help or not?” Jeno asks with a grimace in his voice.

“Yes, yes, I do. I’m sorry,” you apologise with a small smile. It was difficult to resist the urge of calling him cute again, but you decide not to tease him any further for the sake of his sanity.

“Good. Now pay attention, I need to leave for training soon and if you still don’t get it by then... that’s on you.”

Jeno lied. Even after long hours of training, he still went on FaceTime that night to thoroughly explain the concepts that you were unfamiliar with, not minding that he was practically fighting for his life trying not to fall asleep on you. 

That Tuesday night, you went to sleep with the widest grin on your face. Heart carrying so much love for your boyfriend who coincidentally asked you out for the first time ever on a Tuesday too.

03 WEDNESDAY.

Wednesday's child is full of woe. If there was a sentence that could explain how you feel about this particular day, this would be it. Mid-week crisis should be an actual thing if it wasn’t already one. Not only did Wednesday feel like the longest day of the week, you’d also feel extremely restless, wishing nothing more than for the weekends to come quickly.

Back-to-back seminars for six hours with only a short forty-five minute break in between had to be the most unappealing thing known to mankind, and you’d most certainly file a complaint if it was possible. Then again, this is perhaps part of the university experience. 

However, this still isn’t the most devastating part. What truly makes this a tragedy for you is that Jeno isn't there to accompany you through it all due to conflicting timetables. He also had training again, this time outside of school, which meant that he’d only be free after that.

You’re so used to being around Jeno all the time that you can’t seem to spend even the littlest amount of time away from him even though you pretty much see him almost every day of the week. Talk about being clingy.

The feeling’s mutual for Jeno though. Just like you, he seems to hate the idea of not being by your side too, evident from the numerous messages he sends throughout the day despite knowing that your replies would take longer than usual to come in.

You’re not complaining. Because in one way or another, you feel like that’s his way of being by your side, albeit not physically. It is his text messages of checking up on you and ensuring that you didn’t skip your meals that make this unbearable day a little more bearable. Most of all, you look forward to being on FaceTime with him at night, having him all to yourself after such a long day.

Jeno usually ends training at seven-thirty in the evening, but sometimes it could overrun till eight. Thereafter, he still has to travel home for an hour or so, get dinner and wash up. He hides this from you, but very often he attempts to rush home because he doesn’t want you to stay up too late waiting for him, and because he wants to talk after an entire day of not seeing you.

Jeno makes sure to call before eleven, always starting the conversation by telling you how much he misses you, as if he didn’t already tell you that through text. He goes on to ramble about his day, how he saw the time match the digits of your birthdate and it made him think of you, not forgetting to also ask you how did your day go. Not long after, you’d notice his breaths becoming louder, his speech slightly slurred, and that’s when you know that he’s going to fall asleep soon. Even so, you don’t say anything, simply watching him slowly fall into a deep slumber.

“Good night Jeno,” you whisper softly, careful not to wake him up and taking one last look at how peaceful he looks before ending the call.

04 THURSDAY.

Due to how busy the both of you were, you are grateful for the small gap that Jeno has between classes and practices, just so that you’d still be able to see his face. Once it's about time for him to leave, you get ready to say goodbye to Jeno with a warm hug , when he suddenly stops you by placing his hand over yours.

“Do you want to watch me train?” he asks. “You can say no. But I just thought we could get dinner after so we can spend a little more time together,” Jeno adds, his thumb rubbing small circles against your knuckle. An air of expectancy fills the small booth that the both of you occupy in the reading room as he awaits your answer. 

“I’d love to, Jen.” Flipping his hand over so that you could intertwine your fingers together, you jokingly rush Jeno to pack up his things, telling him how excited you are to finally sit in and watch him train for the first time ever. You’ve only ever heard funny anecdotes of his teammates from him every once in a while, and you’re beyond elated to finally meet the people who bring so much joy into his life.

On the way to the hockey rink, you ask Jeno more about the sport and various positions. You weren’t a sports person but thought that it’d be a good time to know more about it, especially because of Jeno’s immense passion towards hockey.

“So what position do you play?” you glance over at him with curious eyes.

“Centre,” he says, a sense of pride in his voice. Before you could ask him what that position entails, Jeno beats you to it with a rather cheeky explanation. “You just need to know that it’s called centre because I’m supposed to be the centre of your attention.”

True to his words, Jeno remains as the centre of your attention for the entire duration. You’d never admit this to him, but he becomes even more charming than he already is when he’s on the rink. Especially during the friendly match that his team had with a neighbouring school towards the end of practice, his entire demeanour changed so much that you’d think that you were watching an entirely different person.

The way Jeno plays is extremely captivating to watch. You’re not sure how he does it, but you can see him mentally strategizing his next move as the clock ticks. Even down to the last minute of the match, Jeno had not let his guard down, the fire in his eyes so prominent that anyone could see that he was determined to end this with a bang. 

Skating across the rink, Jeno moves at the speed of light, making it hard for his opponents to catch him. He is the ace of the team after all, so it wouldn’t be that easy to mess with him. His eyes follow the puck, set on scoring yet another goal despite their favourable lead. The opponents are in full defence mode too, though it wouldn’t make much of a difference since there's too short of a duration left for them to catch up. Speedily, Jeno intercepts the puck from the opposing team, skating away at high speed, still vigilantly guarding the puck with his stick. With the help of his teammates who effectively block the opponent from getting to Jeno, he manages to catch both your eyes and heart in that moment, making you hold your breath in anticipation as he skilfully shoots the puck into the goal at the very last second.

In the matter of a few minutes, Jeno returns to his usual self, smiling widely and cheering loudly with his teammates to celebrate their victory. And of course, he turns to look at you, giving you a smile that holds some semblance of shyness. It’s fascinating to watch how different he is on and off the rink, but it also reminds you how in love you are with the many sides of him; those you have seen and those that you have yet to uncover.

As promised, Jeno takes you to the burger joint down the alley near your university afterwards. During dinner, he still reenacts the funny incidents that happened during training even though you were present when they occurred. Though, this sweet gesture admittedly warms your heart because it makes you feel even more included in his life, as though he is gradually inviting you to be a part of his world, just as you do the same when talking about your interests and hobbies with him.

Time seems to slow down whenever you’re with him but that’s okay because time is merely a social construct. What matters is that you get to spend time with Jeno, who is now walking you home. With his hand in yours, Jeno slows down his footsteps to match your pace. The atmosphere is filled with shared laughter, along with Sweet Nothing softly playing through Jeno’s airpods, both of you taking one side each. It would have been wired earphones, but a certain someone claims that it gets in the way… of what, he refuses to elaborate. 

It is also a homely moment like this that makes the both of you wish that time could slow down even more as you basked in each other’s comforting presence, sharing the same sentiment of hoping that the walk to your house will last a little longer. Anything to prolong the time that you spend with each other, right?

05 FRIDAY.

Friday may be your favourite day of the week because it is when Jeno is finally free after three consecutive days of training. It is also movie night, where you and Jeno would take turns to go over to each other’s place every Friday evening. 

It was a few weeks into freshman year, when the two of you made this pact after discovering that you were neighbours. How is it possible that you’ve never noticed Jeno before anyway?

Funny enough, it all began with you telling your mum that you made a new friend in college who goes by the name of Jeno. That name clearly rang a bell, prompting her to start narrating her grocery adventures with Jeno’s mother, excitedly telling you how close they were. In her words, “Jeno is a really sweet boy, I’ve been dying to introduce you to him but it slipped my mind so many times!” Gushing about the said boy, she hurried you to invite his family over for dinner, rushing into the kitchen herself to whip a meal up in no time.

The awkwardness of the dinner was enough to kill you from the inside, to say the least. Mothers being mothers, you had to admit that you were amazed at their ability to jump from topic to topic in the span of a few minutes. Together with Jeno’s and your father laughing, they also joined in the conversation from time to time. Meanwhile, you and Jeno sat in silence side by side, and spoke only when necessary.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but can we excuse ourselves? It’s my first time at your house and I was wondering if ____ could show me around.” Jeno asked, giving your mum a polite smile as he glanced sideways at you momentarily.

“Of course! The two of you should get to know each other better. Ah, young lo–”

You cleared your throat, preventing your mum from completing her sentence. “Friendship,” she corrected herself.

Believe it or not, you had no idea how dramatic of a person she was up until this moment, or maybe it’s because there was something about Jeno that reeled in her overflowing sense of, you’re guessing, motherly love? That would also explain why the old ladies at the school cafeteria were so nice to Jeno, constantly giving him extra servings. You didn’t know what to think of Jeno’s suggestion since you’ve only known him for a few weeks, and being alone with him couldn’t be any better after having such an awkward dinner. At that time, however, it seemed like it was the next best alternative that you had.

“Let’s go.” You stood up abruptly to disrupt the conversation so that the adults (specifically, your mum) would not have an opportunity to say anything else to make the atmosphere any weirder than it already was. Jeno trailed behind you like a lost puppy, quickly following you upstairs to your room.

“I’m so sorry, my mum doesn’t think before she speaks sometimes. I hope you don’t mind what she said.” You broke the silence, not knowing where this conversation was going exactly, suddenly regretting speaking at all. You took a quick look at Jeno, who was now leaning against the doorframe, standing quite a distance away from the edge of your bed where you were sitting.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a soft smile while shaking his head lightly.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” you asked, the smile on his face now replaced with a frown as he gave you a quizzical look.  

“You’re still leaning against the door?” you asked again, even though it was meant to be more of a statement rather than a question.

Jeno bursted out laughing, “I thought I was making you uncomfortable!” He raised his hand to rub the nape of his neck. He moved away from the door to sit next to you, still leaving a small space between you two.

“Want to watch The Lion King?” you suggested, mindlessly browsing through Disney Plus.

“Are you kidding me?” 

You creased your eyebrows in confusion. “No... why?”

“I love Lion King!” Jeno said a little too enthusiastically, his eyes widening at how there were so many movies in the world, yet you somehow suggested watching his favourite Disney movie.

With the awkward tension in the atmosphere finally gone, you and Jeno made yourselves comfortable on your bed. Unknowingly, the both of you scooted closer to each other’s side as the movie played. By the time the credits scene started to roll, the both of you were already fast asleep, your legs tangled with each other’s under the sheets. 

And as most people would like to say, the rest is history.

However, Fridays weren’t just reserved for movie nights. Soon enough, Friday nights also turned into sleepover nights, which meant that other than your usual movie marathons, you and Jeno end up doing other things too.

Like now, the two of you just ended a karaoke singing session that you would most probably never have again. It was far too loud in the night for your neighbour’s liking, causing them to lodge a complaint, making you and Jeno permanently cross that out of your sleepover activities. 

Jeno comes up with a better idea of setting up a cosy outdoor blanket fort in your backyard to lay on. The sense of tranquillity is like no other, you and Jeno having a heart-to-heart talk in hushed whispers with crickets chirping in the background.

In the end, you fall asleep first, feeling burnt out from the entire school week. Although Jeno knows that you’re already asleep, he still makes sure to pat your head lightly, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Good night angel,” he breathes, wrapping his arms around your waist before drifting to sleep.

06 SATURDAY.

Saturdays are without a doubt, the most exciting for you. As a matter of fact, dating Jeno is a thrill in itself; but what makes Saturdays exceptional is Jeno taking you out on proper dates.

You and Jeno have been together for slightly over three years now, yet every date always feels like the first. The butterflies in your stomach? They never go away. 

Initially, going on a date with Jeno seemed to be nerve-wracking to you because he’d always bring you somewhere new. Naturally, you thought it was the suspense of not knowing what he planned that made you feel this way.

Deep down, however, you knew that you simply felt this way because it was… Jeno. 

“Why don’t I have anything to wear?” you shout in exasperation to no one in particular as you rummage through the closet to find a perfect outfit for your date. It feels like Jeno has already seen you in everything that you own, and you’re this close to going on Pinterest for outfit ideas. 

That is, until you hear a text notification sound from your phone. It was a text message from Jeno informing you that he's coming over in five minutes. You give up searching, hastily picking out a white turtleneck, layering an autumn brown velvet overall over it. 

“You look pretty today.” This is the first thing that Jeno says to you when you open the door, once again leaning against the door frame with a mellow smile on his face. You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks because of his compliment.

And there it is again, the butterflies. Lee Jeno looking as flawless as he could be, a cosmic latte dress shirt tucked with a pair of black pants along with a brown leather jacket draped over his shoulders, coincidentally matching your outfit. To top it off, he’s wearing a beret today too, suddenly making him look cuter. It’s as if he travelled back in time, turning into your Victorian boyfriend. 

“But... why are you dressed like this?” Jeno asks, rudely interrupting your staring session.

“Why? Is there something wrong with my outfit?” you were perplexed by his sudden question. Did he not like it? Should you change out of it? He said you looked pretty though. Besides, what else were you going to wear? You stare intently at Jeno, anxious about what he's going to say next. You hope it isn’t something bad.

“I thought I told you we were going cycling...” He stops mid-sentence, brows raised as he purposefully gives you a once-over again.

The tension in your shoulders disappears upon hearing his words. You roll your eyes at him, pushing his right shoulder lightly. “You’re going to ride a bicycle in a leather jacket?”

“Nevermind, please pretend I never said that.” Jeno makes a sulky expression upon realising that he did not plan out his joke well. But he is also quick to shoot you an endearing smile. “I love your outfit, baby.”

“You’re so lucky you’re cute, Lee Jeno.” And that I love you.

Thank goodness though, you were definitely not prepared to make another mess out of your wardrobe to search for another outfit when you’ve painstakingly organised it ten minutes ago.

In many ways, dates with Jeno always feel like the first. A simple thing, like the slight brush of your shoulders against each other as you’re walking down a random shopping street was sufficient to send your heart racing. Jeno’s hesitation to hold your hand in a crowded amusement park even though he really wants to, but he doesn’t know when is the right time to grab it–you can feel it, he fumbles with his fingers, reaches out every now and then, but pulls back immediately when his fingers accidentally meet yours.

And the memory of today that you can’t seem to forget. It’s spring, so Jeno thought that it’s a perfect time to bring you to a flower field located at the outskirts of the city. He’d once seen you looking at pictures of it on Instagram, making a mental note about it before he went home to do more research that night.

It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Jeno to take pictures of you, but when the both of you arrived, he didn’t stop at all, you swear he probably has a thousand pictures of you just from today.

However, what surprised you more was that when you asked Jeno to pose in front of the daisy fields, he happily did, even though there was still a hint of shyness within him since he wasn’t exactly comfortable with being photographed at times. He even went as far as to ask the other visitors to help take pictures of the both of you together, which was something you usually did. It wasn’t something extravagant, but it sure was endearing, and you’re positive that discovering a new side of Jeno made you giddy. So giddy that you never knew how it was possible for your heart to be swelling with so much love for another person.

Just like how daisies symbolise new beginnings, you hope that it's the same for you and Jeno’s story too. To not have endings, but only new beginnings.

07 SUNDAY.

Being certified homebodies, you and Jeno wholeheartedly enjoy staying in. It is also perhaps an excuse for the both of you to cuddle and nap together. You’d think that by the end of the week, you’ll be tired of seeing Jeno’s face for the seventh time. You joke that you are, but in reality, you could never bring yourself to grow tired of being together with your favourite person.

You usually go over to Jeno’s house in the afternoon, which is the ideal time to take a nap. Sometimes, you prayed that it would rain, so that you’ll have an excuse to steal one of his hoodies. Even so, he lets you take them as and when you want to. What is he supposed to do, say no? Of course not. 

Napping wasn’t supposed to be your favourite hobby, but if it meant that you could enjoy the warmth and comfort of being in Jeno’s embrace, then clearly, any other hobby in the world couldn’t possibly compare to it. Like a baby, you snuggle close to rest your head on Jeno’s chest, putting your arms around his neck, taking in his soft cotton scent. The faint sound of his heartbeat and gentle breathing lulls you to sleep, it is very much like a lullaby on its own. 

The best feeling in the world is to wake up the same way you fell asleep–still in Jeno’s arms. Not wanting to awake him, you slowly loosen your arms from his neck. Carefully, you brush his hair to the side, getting a clearer view of his face as you tenderly caress the mole below his eye, and then his cheek. He has pretty eyelashes, you’ve come to notice.

“Jeno,” you call out softly, in hopes of waking him up, but not wanting to be too loud at the same time. You wanted to let him continue sleeping, but the sky is already dark.

“Jeno, it’s time to wake up,” you try again. The clock on his side table reads half past six in the evening, indicating that it is almost dinnertime. His eyes were still shut, but he let out a groggy sound to let you know that he was awake, mumbling something shortly after. You didn’t quite catch it, but you think that he asked you to let him sleep for another five minutes. Typical Jeno.

“But it’s time for dinner,” you try to sit up, only causing Jeno to hug your waist tighter. You could barely move an inch with the way he was holding you.

“Just five minutes.” You let out a sigh, giving in to him.

“Jeno?” 

He hums in response, which you take as a cue to ask your question. “Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

His eyelids finally flutter open, sleep still evident in his eyes. He appears to be in deep thought about your question before he answers. “Yeah. I’d still love you.”

“Hmm…” You narrow your eyes at him. “That took you a while to answer.”

“I just woke up,” he retorts.

“Fine.” You close your eyes and move closer to Jeno’s body, enjoying how he feels like your personal human pillow.

“Okay but what if there were other cuter worms? Like if I weren’t your ideal worm girlfriend, would you still date me?”

“Baby…”

[acciocriativity]

JONGHO AS A BEAR HYBRID - RAISED LIKE SIBLINGS EDITION

(Photos are not mine, credits for the rightful owners)

Ateez Masterlist

I'm a bit late, but I had to write a little something for Jongho's birthday and this is my absolute favorite hc of him, so here we go! I could go on and on about it too, should I make a one shot of this? 👀

The moment your parents got an anonymous call to rescue a hybrid cat out of someone’s abandoned house, they didn’t think they would find a cub bear near the woods, alone and shot in the process.

To this day, that call would be an unsolved puzzle. First, there was no cat hybrid. Second, it was illegal to hunt in that area for many reasons. Third, why anyone would contact a small hybrid rescue organization instead of a wildlife rehabilitator?

They found out the answer for only one of those questions.

While they were in the car, the cub shifted to his human form due to lack of energy and blood. The little boy could barely speak or move, his poor condition clear as a day.

The good news were, from then on he’d have a home and, if he wanted to, a family to take care of him.

You both grew up together.

It was weird to explain the dynamic of you two to anyone who asked. There was no hierarchy between the two of you, something not as common as it was now. You were kind of like siblings, but without the constant urge to fight for everything.

Jongho would never fight you. Not because he didn’t want to sometimes (most times), but because he made a promise the moment he was accepted into the family. He would fight for your family, in whatever way they needed, so that includes you.

That meant, even when you were being stubborn for no reason or just annoying, he wouldn’t fight you. Instead, he would just… judge you in silent until you stopped.

There were some fights here and there, of course. His patience wasn’t eternal, and he had his own feelings and moments of being annoying too… although he blames 99% of those on you.

But who’s counting, right?

You learned all the little things about him from a young age, so you knew him with the back of your hand.

Like the urge he had for affection, even though he hated to ask for it, so much so he would rather be shot again.

Of course, you’d cling to him like a koala all day long and he just… stood there, like an actual tree, paralyzed and overthinking ever second of it.

With time, he got used to the feeling and dare I say, he loved it a lot, but would never say it. If it makes you feel better, it would be plastered on his forehead the confusion and sadness the moment you stopped. He didn’t notice his pout, either.

Or like the way he’d never speak without being spoken to. That didn’t last for long, but while it did, you made sure to ask him as many questions as you could think about.

It ranged from do you know why the sky is blue? to can I touch your ears please, please? He would always say no to the last one until your parents said to stop asking.

You did, but you couldn’t help watching it all the time. It was small, round and it looked fluffy. It was the perfect combination to make anyone in their right minds give a little pet, you know? Still, you respected he needed his space.

He also knew you with the back of his hand. He observed every single habit of all of your family, because he had to be sure they were safe to be around. Then he kept doing it because he wanted to understand why you were so different from every other human he met.

Even though, you were so annoying and loud and sometimes a bit dumb as a child, you were also kind-hearted and generous since little. You didn’t even complain when you had to leave your own room for him to stay, you were soo worried and scared because of the bad condition you saw him in.

You were sincere in your questions about hybrids, how did he do things or why he did it, not in the way he sometimes felt with other people, who looked at him like a fascinating animal and nothing more.

He was grateful for whoever made that call and saved his life by bringing your parents to him, even though he always asked himself who could it be.

[sasster]

Eternity

This is suppose to take place like literally shortly after this one. So yeah. Nothing crazy, lots of introspection. Enjoy!

[doc]

—

If asked how long he sat there, cradling his son's head in his lap, the Restorer would not have been able to give an answer beyond longer than he has ever taken to get up before. Time was of little interest to him, so he filled it by first cleaning the rest of the paint off of the poor boy’s face, then brushing his hair out of the way to assess the damage done to his horn. At least that beast of a man left enough for him to work with.

Favion.

The yellow blood could never leave well enough alone, and Ailzea worked so tirelessly in the past to mitigate the damage he seemed hell bent on bringing to anything and everything he cared about. How could he let the ball drop so severely in the matter of his children?

Ailzea sighed and ran his fingers through Archie’s hair as the thought weighed heavy on his shoulders.

“Do I stand a chance of convincing you to take a break? Rest could be good?”

The priest raised his head and tore his gaze from his unconscious son to find Tunsen standing in the doorway. The concern in his voice a mirror to the emotion etched along his browline, creasing it ever so slightly and morphing the usually good natured smile he sported into a very sad one.

“I will not leave him,” he declared simply.

“I really don’t think he’s going anywhere,” Tunsen protested as he fully entered the room. “And I know that you need rest. There is an energy output for you to replenish.”

Ailzea shook his head, turned his attention back to Archie.

No one knew better than the groundskeeper the lengths he would go through to ensure whomever ended up as his charge would be well taken care of. Would the intensity not be expected to at least triple in the matter of his own child? “I will rest when Arkiro stirs before my own eyes.”

Standing beside the bed now, Tunsen sighed and gave Ailzea’s shoulder a tight squeeze. “Ailzea, you wouldn’t even need to leave the room. I’ll watch. If his breathing so much as slows,” another squeeze “I’d wake you up.”

“I mean no disrespect to you, Tunsen,” the forlorn priest said softly, struggling to muster the ability to look up from his son to give his elder his full attention, “but this is one argument that you will not win.”

“I had to try.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

Tunsen then pulled up a chair near the bed. “In that case, I will keep you company.”

Ailzea did not say anything, focused on the jagged remains of Archie’s horn as his thumb rubbed over it.

—

The sun was high in the sky by the time Ailzea put the finishing touches on the project he’d taken up in his wait for Archie to stir. Muddled light blended through the curtains to dance off of it as he inspected each curve and edge for imperfections.

Archie only rustled once all the while, groaning when an errant beam of light danced into the room before the curtains were drawn. He elected to view this as a good sign, but ultimately not the one he was looking for.

When Tunsen returned to the room, food in tow, to find the priest standing over his son, testing the wooden horn against what was left of the natural horn, he couldn’t fight back the smile that it brought to his face.

“You are a very kind boy.”

“I’ve heard that somewhere before.” Ailzea mused.

“Whoever said that was a smart person,” Tunsen said as he held the plate he’d brought for Ailzea up. “Surely you can spare a moment to eat.”

Ailzea acquiesced, set the horn on the end table, and accepted the food.

—

When the moons reached their apex, Ailzea was seated in the chair pulled up by the bed dozing off for a couple seconds here and there before jolting up again. Tunsen was off helping one of the followers with a request that the priest couldn’t quite hear through the door or over the sleep that tried to blanket him, so there was no buffer to keep him from drifting off the last handful of hours.

He was grateful that Tunsen was up for the task.

Another internal force jolted him upright, pulling the mental image of Arkiro standing before him, face beaten, limbs all but torn from their sockets, and blood leaking everywhere that he could see, from his mind. It was replaced with the very real image of Archie sleeping peacefully in bed, surrounded by pillows, blankets, and a stuffed mantis that Marrie brought from her bedroom at some point in the afternoon.

The priest sighed, shaking the scare from his tired mind. He instead admired the wooden horn that now sat proudly in place of the one lost to Favion. Archie will appreciate this.

And then there was movement, familiar movement. First Archie furrowed his brows, followed by his lips and nose screwing toward each other as though he’d just been fed a lemon rind and all.

He was waking up.

Ailzea wasted no time in shooting up from his chair to collect him into his arms. When Archie reached up to wrap his arms around his father, the elder Roatus expelled a sigh, or a choked gasp, that brought out with it all of his tensions into the top of his son’s head.

“Hey,” Archie started to speak, no doubt prepared to hoarsely fire off a witticism. However, after a brief pause, the sarcasm never came, and instead he relaxed into his father’s arms and squeezed back as tightly as he could. “It’s okay, dad. I’m okay.”

The priest nodded against him, pulling him in so close it might have looked like he meant to absorb him so that he would not come to see any other harm.

“That was very close, Arkiro.”

There was another pause, then, “I know… I’m sorry.”

[vaseoflilies]

Elysian Fields Chapter 3: Low Key

warning: there is an emotional breakdown, descriptions of injury and body after a coma, and references to torture an: please check this out on AO3 as i have more information regarding this story on there

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

Jun began by telling you about herself. 

She had a rather sad past, you thought. She had been an only child; her mother was unable to conceive another. This left her alone throughout her childhood. Her father, dissatisfied with not having a son, arranged for her to be married off at the tender age of fifteen to a high-ranking coworker of his.

Her husband was nothing short of abusive. A complete and utter waste of oxygen. Hearing that he was upset because she couldn’t conceive when she was only seventeen had your jaw clenching and your mind whirling with anger. How could someone do that to someone else? You didn’t understand.

She stopped talking about her past when she sensed your anger and decided to concentrate on what you were asking her.

“The Eternal Paradise Faith,” she began, shuffling through a few gray kimonos, “saved me in more ways than one, just like it saved you. I stumbled upon the building after running away from my husband a few years ago. Lord Douma saved me that winter night.”

You smiled softly. Both Dr. Isha and Jun held Lord Douma in high regard, which made you curious: who was he? “Tell me about Lord Douma,” you asked, allowing her to help you into the gray kimono. “He seems like a decent man. He did save me from a bear, after all.”

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you recalled what the other members were wearing. White. The cafeteria was mostly filled with white, like a flurry of snow. You remembered not liking waking up in such a dull color. Was gray any better? But still, did it really matter?

“He’s a man of action,” she chuckled, gathering various hygiene products. “He’s always on the move, leading worship, planning, and orchestrating activities. He’s also a great listener. If a God ever walked the earth, it would be him.”

Wow. 

You raised your eyebrow. With those words, the name “Eternal Paradise Faith” became much clearer. You didn’t consider yourself particularly religious, but based on the subtle decorations and mostly plain outfits of the regular members, you assumed it was some sort of Buddhist or Shinto philosophy.  You seemed to remember basic knowledge, at least.

As for your feelings about being here? You still felt a sense of unease, and fear continued to creep in, but it was significantly diminished. There was no doubt that you were grateful to be alive. When you saw the state of your leg without the bandage, your heart skipped a beat, and you could swear you felt the sharp sting of the initial wound. Whoever this Douma character was, you knew you needed to express your gratitude to him. After all, it wasn’t as if you planned to stay here indefinitely.

“I’ve been taking care of your hygiene regularly while you were unconscious, so if you need any assistance, please let me know and don’t feel embarrassed,” she said. Her words interrupted your train of thought. Just how much had she taken care of? The idea of her bathing you while you were unconscious made you feel somewhat guilty and uncomfortable, as it involved someone touching you in such a manner. “When you say maintaining hygiene, do you mean…”

“Yes.”

You purse your lips. No wonder she was so kind to you. She had been caring for you so intimately without really knowing whether you would live or die. “Thank you, Jun.”

She gazed at you, her eyes brimming with emotion, and she wrapped you in a gentle embrace. “I was terrified that you were going to die,” she confessed. You couldn’t help but admire her. The way she cared for someone was nothing short of brilliant. 

You were indebted. 

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

After about an hour and a half of talking with Jun, eating a meal she brought, and getting more information about Paradise, you began to question if Lord Douma was ever arriving.

“If he’s not coming, I don’t see why I have to stay here,” you said, quickly eating the dango that she had sneakily fetched from a cart for you. “I could try walking or-”

“Please, be patient,” she interrupted, taking a piece of dango for herself and leaving you with a scowl. “Dr. Isha probably got busy. I’m sure he’ll arrive any second.” 

During your conversation, you learned a lot about Paradise. It was home to more than 200 followers, with some outsiders also working on the property. Jun informed you that the majority of followers worked here and contributed to the community in some way. The property included over a dozen buildings and had an intriguing layout. At the center of it all was a lake teeming with a diverse array of plant and animal life. And even better, just a few hundred feet, was a large hot spring that was modernized. 

It sounded so beautiful; it was almost too good to be true. There had to be some downside to all this.

“Do people usually stay here?” 

“Typically, yes. Unless they attain Eternal Paradise or are turned away,” Jun replied, absentmindedly playing with her empty dango stick. “No one really has the desire to leave. We’re safe here.”

Her words struck a chord with you. Why would anyone abandon such a sanctuary in the first place? No wonder no one wanted to leave. The basic necessities of life—food, clothing, and safety—were guaranteed here. But this place offered more than just the essentials. It promised salvation. It provided an environment to nurture a family. According to Jun, achieving Eternal Paradise was the pinnacle of achievement, and while members were chosen biweekly, it was the ultimate goal for everyone.

But what does it entail? What must you offer to remain in such a place? This was a cult, no doubt. Contemplating all of this, especially having just awakened from a coma, gives you a headache. 

“May we come in?” You hear from the shoji doors, noticing two moving shadows. Fucking, finally ! “We have brought gifts!” Another voice chimes in, a rather smooth male one. “I’m so, so sorry that we’re late!” 

Jun clasps her hands together, a smile gracing her face as she opens the doors for Dr. Isha and the man you assume to be Lord Douma.

Your jaw drops. 

You’ve never seen anyone so peculiar yet so striking. His hair, as white as snow, seems to defy gravity with its wild disarray. Sharp, angled spikes rise from his head in a chaotic symphony, framing his pale, rather cold-looking face quite handsomely. The hair around his head flares to the side, curving backwards, and a single lock slants down to the right side of his face, falling between his eyes. On the top of his head was a pointed black hat with golden stitching. You’ve seen people with strikingly different appearances before, but never anyone this flamboyant. 

His clothing tells a different story. 

It’s clear that his kimono is expensive. It’s a traditional red robe made from silk, as smooth as the calmest imaginable lake. He also wears a thick, black cape with two tresses patterned in purple and black that reach to his knees. The robe is adorned with two large symbols, each on his upper chest. His height is also impressive, towering over Jun, who is bowing to him, and Dr. Isha, who is greeting both of you.

You’d never seen a Japanese man look even remotely similar to Douma. 

No wonder Jun regards him as a God.

Douma greets Jun and moves closer to your hospital bed before settling into the small corner at the end. “I’m so sorry for the delay!” he exclaims, placing a basket brimming with various items beside him. He claps his hands together dramatically, his face adorned with a smile. “Please accept my apologies!”

You blink at him as he bows, his hands pressed together. This man is the leader? His behavior strikes you as rather childish. “It’s alright, I suppose,” you respond.

He ceases his bowing and straightens up. Your gaze drifts away from him, landing on the two women, who are sporting broad smiles. Dr. Isha’s face is flushed, and Jun appears no different. A twinge of annoyance prompts you to clench your jaw, and you shift your attention back to Douma.

His eyes capture your attention. This was the first time you’ve ever seen eyes quite like these and the longer you look at them, the more it feels like you’re swimming in a sea of rainbows. “Could we have some space, please?” he suddenly requests, his smile broadening as he addresses the two women. “I’d like to have a conversation with our guest, if that’s alright.”

Dr. Isha’s smile faded. The two women exchanged hesitant glances before sliding open the shoji door and exiting, closing it gently behind them.

He turned his gaze back to you, his smile giving way to a more sincere expression. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his eyebrows knitting together in a display of deep sympathy. “I cannot simply imagine the emotions and struggles you must be confronting right now.” His words were so soft, they were barely above a whisper.

“I’m thankful to be alive, so thank you.”

His lips curled upward into a gentle smile. “Dr. Isha told me you’re having trouble with your memory.” He began to rummage through the basket on the bed before picking up a few items. “These are a few items from the attack. Let me know if they jog your memory, okay?”

You nodded, your gaze falling on the first item. It was your haori. You had one that matched your brother, though his face was still a fuzzy memory. “Can I hold it?” you asked, already reaching out to take it.

He handed it over to you, and you began to inspect it. The haori, patterned with sunflowers, was in a pitiful state. It was ripped and torn in several places, and the fabric that was once carefully stitched was now marred with dried blood stains and dirt.

You looked up.

Douma was observing you intently as you clenched the fabric in your hands. You didn’t remember much, not really. Looking at the dirt reminded you of mud, but oddly enough, you couldn’t discern whether what you remembered was a dream or an actual memory. Everything seemed more blurred the longer you pondered.

“I remember mud,” you told him, setting the ripped haori down. “Dream or not a dream?”

“Not a dream.” He shook his head, picking up the haori and examining it himself. “It was raining. I don’t know why you were in the forest, but I’m thankful I was there. There was a bear larger than a station wagon that grabbed you and threw you down the mountainside."

You let out a soft tsk. “I was afraid,” you confessed to him, your voice cracking and your hands trembling slightly as you spoke. “Every time I woke up, fear was there, like an unwelcome guest. It’s still with me, this fear, and I don’t understand why.”

Douma, still fixated on you, remained silent. You didn’t think he blinked even once during your interaction. “Well then, tell me about yourself,” he suggested, rising from the bed and moving towards the kettle that Jun had placed earlier. “How does that sound? Let’s see if it jogs your memory, shall we?”

You clicked your tongue, feeling a headache coming on and your emotions running high. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” you countered.

He whipped his head back, his long platinum hair swishing against his waist. “Me?” He chuckled softly under his breath as he plugged the kettle into the wall. You were so thankful that this place had electricity. “Well, isn’t that interesting?” he mused, seemingly intrigued. 

You tilted your head, confused. “What’s interesting?”

He stands still for a moment, his interest piqued by the sound of the water heating up. “Hmm,” he murmurs, shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. You can’t help but notice his discomfort, which in turn stirs a sense of nervousness within you. You wonder if your presence is causing him unease. Breaking the silence, he asks, “What is it that you wish to know?”

You shrugged. "Why do you help people the way you do?" You blurted out the question. You were not particularly good at talking to people, let alone asking them personal questions. But talking to Jun was different; it was simple. She preferred to do most of the talking. But now, talking to the man who saved you, you were extremely nervous. “It must be hard. How does that make you feel?” you added.

He let out a soft chuckle before finally turning to face you. Leaning against the wall, he responded, “I lead my people towards enlightenment.” He then crossed his arms, studying your reactions. “Knowing that my people are well-cared for and saved in this manner brings me great satisfaction.”

As the tea kettle began to boil, Douma shifted his attention towards it and poured a cup of tea for you. “Aren’t you going to have a cup?” you asked, observing the steam rising from the small porcelain cup he had placed by your bedside. “Jun brought it; it’s quite good.”

He walked over to the kettle and unplugged it before taking a seat at the edge of your bed. “Thank you, but I don’t eat or drink in front of others,” he said, crossing his legs with a slight hum.

You furrowed your eyebrows, finding him quite unusual. “Why?” you asked. Your love of food made the idea of not eating or drinking in front of others seem extremely strange to you. A part of you wanted to keep asking questions, but you could feel his unease. You felt indebted to him and figured the least you could do was avoid bothering him to the point of being asked to leave. “You don’t have to answer that,” you quickly added.

He sighed. “Don’t worry,” he said, shaking his head, dismissing your worry. “You’re so tense, it’s making me nervous just talking to you.”

You chuckled nervously, taking a sip of the tea and scalding your tongue in the process. “I’m sure you can understand why,” you managed to cough out, the hot liquid aggravating your already sore throat. “It’s not every day you wake up in a cult.”

“Is that what you think? That me and my people are a cult?”

Your eyes widened. Wasn’t his organization exactly that? In this era in Japan, cults weren’t necessarily a bad thing. Were they taboo? Yes. Did he seem to take it personally? Indeed, he did. You remained silent, only returning his gaze as your breathing quickened.

After a moment of intense staring, he broke the silence with a chuckle and a slap to his knee. “Relax!” He was now laughing heartily, his shoulders rising and falling with each burst of laughter. “I’m just surprised you came to that conclusion so quickly. You’re quite the sharp one, aren’t you?” He shook his head, and his face was rather serious. “But yes, we could be described as a cult. Nonetheless, my followers are happy to work towards Eternal Paradise.”

You visibly cringed.

Joining a cult was not on your bucket list. 

However, if joining a cult meant being fed, staying alive, and remaining safe until you could find a way back home (or remember where it even was), you were willing to make that compromise. As you set the tea back on the bedside table, survival was the only thing on your mind. Jun had assured you it was a safe place, and even though you hadn’t known her for long, you decided to trust her. The sight of people in the cafeteria, well-fed and clothed, some even with children, gave you some reassurance.

“Well, our conversation seems to have become rather tense,” he observed, rising from the bed to his full height. “Why don’t you try standing? I think a tour is in order.” He walked over to a closet in the corner of the room and pulled out two crutches. “Ah, these might come in handy, don’t you think?”

“What about the rest of the items?” You asked, glancing at the basket placed on the other side of the bed.

“I’m sure your nurse will be more than willing to assist you,” he said, moving closer to you on the bed and extending his free hand. “Here, let me help you.”

You studied his hand. 

It was even paler than his face, adorned with short, bluish nails that had a slight sheen. He was already pale, but his nails were so blue that you wondered if he was sick. With some hesitation, you accepted his hand, only to be taken aback by its icy touch. 

You gasped, both at the chill of his hand and the realization that you were now standing. As you wobbled slightly, your heart pounded in your chest. Instinctively, you reached up to touch his face, pressing your hands against his cheek and forehead and getting a grasp on how cold he really was.

“My God!” you exclaimed, unaware of the loudness of your voice. You let go of his hand, took a step back, picked up your hot teacup, and then took his hand again, pressing it against the cup. “You’re absolutely freezing! You really should drink some of this,” you insisted.

Douma’s eyes widened as you held his hand firmly against the warm cup. Could his pale skin and hair be signs of illness? “I think I remember something else,” you said, furrowing your eyebrows in deep thought, “Yes, I knew a few people who were ill as well.”

“Yes…” he trailed off, allowing you to touch his face with your warm hands. His gaze shifted slightly, avoiding direct eye contact. “I have a condition. A rather terrible disease. Not enough blood, you see?” His voice, unusually deep, faltered just a bit, adding an eeriness to the already tense atmosphere.

“Please, accept my apologies,” you murmured, your hands falling from his face as you shook your head, taking a step back. The past few hours have been a surreal experience for you. “Despite your own struggles, you saved me,” you began, your body bending in a deep bow, a symbol of your unwavering gratitude for the life he had saved. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Douma’s lips curled into a wide grin, a stark contrast to the somber mood, as he returned the cup to you. “Think nothing of it, Sunshine!” His voice was cheerful, a sudden shift that left you slightly unsettled. “Now, about that tour. If you’ll excuse me…”

He quickly walked over to the shoji doors, his feet making soft sounds on the floor. Upon opening them, he found Jun and Dr. Isha with their ears pressed against the door, clearly eavesdropping on your conversation. “Well, what a surprise!” he exclaimed, chuckling as he watched them stumble in surprise. “I must be going now. I trust you both will treat our guest with kindness, yes?”

“Please forgive us, Lord Douma,” Jun bowed, with Dr. Isha following suit. “We were just curious, that’s all.”

As Douma made his exit, he paused to whisper something in Dr. Isha’s ear. Then, he continued on his way, leaving you all in a state of surprise at his abrupt departure.

Then, the women entered the room.

Jun quickly moved to your side, gripping your upper arm to help you maintain balance as you stood. “Look at you!” she exclaimed, a smile spreading across her face as you took tentative steps. “Isn’t she amazing? Even after an injury.”

Dr. Isha’s expression was hard to read, but a hint of anger was evident in her furrowed brows, causing wrinkles to form. “You must know something, girl,” she said, coming closer and supporting your other arm as you navigated the room. You paused when her grip tightened. “You seem too comfortable with the Lord Founder. What did you say to him? What made him leave the room so abruptly?” Her voice was almost a growl, her knuckles turning white as she held onto you.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” You hissed, rolling your shoulder in an attempt to get her off of you. “We just talked, that’s all.”

Finally, she released you, her expression still stern. “Do you want to know what he told me, Jun?” Her laughter was bitter, filled with sarcasm. “He said her room is in the Lotus Wing. What a joke!”

Your gaze shifted to Jun, whose eyes had widened in surprise. “The Lotus Wing?” She let out a disbelieving scoff, clearly taken aback. “That’s quite prestigious. You must have left a significant impression on Lord Douma.”

Confusion washed over you as you glanced between the two women. “…What is the Lotus Wing?”

Without acknowledging your question, Dr. Isha continued. “She’s been given the all-clear,” she declared, her hand waving dismissively in the air. “Jun, I’m entrusting her care to you. Ensure her needs are met, I’m sure it’ll be a rollercoaster. Good evening to both of you.” With that, she opened the doors and exited the room, leaving behind a resounding slam that echoed in the silence.

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

Neither you nor Jun said anything as she tidied up the hospital room.

It wasn’t that you didn’t have anything to say, but rather, you were quite upset. Dr. Isha didn’t seem to like you at all, and you were starting to understand why.

You didn’t know the exact reason, but you guessed that her demotion from advisor was because of you. That’s why she didn’t like you. Maybe you were too casual with Lord Douma! Touching his face like that, what were you thinking? You had just met him, so why did it matter if he was cold? You should have just let him be and asked if he was alright.

You had a bad habit of getting involved with things you shouldn’t.

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

Jun packed everything into a larger basket, leaving you to hold the smaller one that Douma had brought for you. You noticed she had brought a lot of soap, an oddly large amount. You decided to ask her about it later.

You were utterly ecstatic to finally leave the room you’d been confined in. With shaky hands, you slid open the doors, only to be met with another door. They certainly made it difficult to leave. You wondered just how much trouble you had caused. Upon opening the last door, you were greeted with the sounds of crickets and a beautiful garden.

“Wow,” you muttered, utterly astonished at the beauty of this place. “You weren’t kidding.”

Jun paused, her eyes reflecting the soft glow of the moon. She inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp night air filled with the subtle scent of flowering bushes that dotted the garden. ““This isn’t even the main part,” she chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she watched your reaction. “You’ll enjoy the Lotus Wing. It circles a private pond.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, intrigued. The idea of a private pond tucked away in the forest piqued your interest. You followed her as she started to walk at a leisurely pace, allowing you to fully absorb the surroundings. You looked up, noticing the towering trees adorned with blossoms. “Tell me more,” you requested.

She nodded, descending a small set of stairs. Extending her hand to you, you accepted it, and together you began to traverse a path on a hill. “Firstly, this is more of a private hospital wing. There are a few other facilities in that building,” she gestured in front of her. “See how the path diverges?”

You nodded, observing how the pea gravel path forked into two. One trail ascended while the other descended. “One leads to the main buildings, where the main lake is,” she said downhill, where a veil of mist obscured most of the landscape. “Up there, are the hot springs. That’s where the Lotus Wing is, along with a few other structures. The Lotus Wing is the most luxurious place to reside. I’ve only been there a few times, so I’m quite excited to be serving someone who lives there.”

You both began walking uphill, which quickly started to strain your leg. “How does Lord Douma manage this?” you asked, panting. Your coma had really taken a toll on you. “With his condition and all?”

Jun took the basket you were holding and placed it on top of hers. Balancing her basket on her hip, she linked arms with you to help you walk. “His condition?” She turned her head towards you, looking rather confused. “Ah, that. His Worship often rests. He isn’t typically seen during the day, and even then, we’ve all grown accustomed to his nocturnal schedule. The Gods have blessed him so much that it must be nature’s course to burden him with illness. Isn’t that sad?”

…Right. You thought back to how cold his hands were and how odd he seemed. He must be quite sick, you decided. “Anyway, how many people live in the Lotus Wing?”

She clicked her tongue as she thought about it. “Either eight or nine now that Dr. Isha got demoted.” You guys then reached a set of wooden stairs. “As nice as it is up the hill, it sure is a workout.”

“No kidding,” you gasped, placing your hands on your knees. “Eight or nine, huh? Are they more advisors? Doctors? Engineers?”

She nodded, patting your back as you caught your breath. “Something along those lines, yeah.” She then glanced around, as if checking if anyone was watching. “They’re not as harsh as Dr. Isha. Don’t tell her I said that.”

You chuckled. “Your secrets are safe with me, no worries.” The moonlight cast a beautiful glow on her blue kimono. “I’m assuming Douma also lives in the Lotus Wing?”

She winced at your words. “No. A bit past that,” she said, shaking her head. “However, you should address him more formally.”

“Why am I living there? Why did he put me there? I’m no advisor, I can’t even remember my hobbies or my own brother's face.”

“Hey,” she said in a soothing voice, rubbing your back once more. “It’s alright. He saved you personally, remember? I’m sure it’ll work out.”

You sighed. No choice but to push forward. “Alright.” You nodded, continuing your walk on the stairs.

After clearing the stairs, you found a short path leading to what looked like an enormous shrine. Bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, meticulously manicured Zen gardens flanked either side of the path, right where the rest of the stairs ended. Stone lanterns dotted the landscape, their orangish glow challenging the moonlight.

The shrine itself appeared ancient, with sweeping roofs and ornate carvings. It was quiet at the moment, but soft murmurs filled the air, along with the scent of incense. Without a doubt, you knew this was sacred ground.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?” she whispered, aware of the people in the Zen Garden and the few praying to a rather large statue of Douma. Freaky, you thought. “The Lotus Wing is past the shrine, but there are a lot of members right now, so be mindful.”

You nodded hesitantly as you followed Jun. The white-clad wearers watched you in silence as you ascended the stairs and passed the shrine building. On another gravel path, Jun stopped right under a large tree. Pointing, she murmured, “There it is. Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Pretty” was an understatement. You could only see the entrance to the building, but even then, the pink hue of the building, along with its white slanted tile roof, was breathtaking. Moving forward, you and Jun finally entered.

The floor was made of dark wood, but like the exterior of the house, it held a subtle pink hue, as if reflecting the blush of a lotus blossom. 

The furniture was a different story. Each piece, crafted from the same dark wood, was meticulously carved for its purpose. The furniture pieces, whether they were tables, chairs, or cabinets, all shared a small crest of a lotus itched in the middle.

Following Jun down the hallway, you noticed doors spaced generously apart, each illuminated by the warm glow of a yellow lantern. The light from the lanterns cast long, dancing shadows on the wooden floor as you walked and shone beautifully along the white walls.

Upon reaching the end of the hallway, a shoji door crested with a lotus, along with a neatly arranged place to remove and store your shoes. “This was Dr. Isha’s old room,” Jun said, slipping off her shoes with practiced ease. You followed suit, feeling the cool wood beneath your feet. “I assume this is where you’ll be staying,” she added, sliding the door open with gentle hands.

Your eyes widened with surprise.

Douma seemed to prefer Western-style beds, as evidenced by the ones in your room and at the hospital. Your bed had a large headboard made of intricately carved dark wood. A lotus crest was carved into the wood, its design the same throughout the Lotus Wing. A layer of bamboo on the same wall added a touch of nature, as did two nightstands placed near your bed. 

The room was floored with traditional tatami mats, their subtle fragrance filling the space. Despite the high ceilings, part of the room dipped into a cozy area furnished with a table and a few chairs. It looked like a small tearoom, complete with a small fire pit in the center. A long wire hung from the ceiling, holding an iron pot in the pit below. Beyond the tearoom, you could see closed shoji doors that certainly opened to reveal another space.

Never in your life have you seen a room this luxurious. 

With a sense of urgency and a flicker of excitement, you rushed to the shoji doors and slid them open. Your intuition was right. As the doors parted, you took in the imposing size of the walls separating each room. On either side of you, two large, dark walls shielded you from the view of the other rooms while also granting you a generous portion of the private pond that Jun had mentioned.

If you hadn’t been raised with manners, you might have stripped off your clothes and plunged straight into the inviting water. But then Jun’s sympathetic smile pulled you back to the harsh reality of your situation.

That’s right, you reminded yourself. 

You weren’t here on vacation or to celebrate some brazen achievement. You were here because you came dangerously close to meeting the reaper. The weight of that realization began to settle in, casting a pall over the beauty of your surroundings. 

The luxurious room, the private pond, the exquisite craftsmanship—all seemed to mock your predicament, serving as a somber reminder of the grim reason for your visit. Slowly but surely, the initial awe and excitement gave way to a creeping sense of despair. 

You lost a part of yourself.

A part of what made you, you. You would never be sure if you would remember what had happened to you or the important details of your life. You walked over to the bed and noticed that it was bare, but you still sat on the mattress. Your throat began to sting as your lip quivered with emotion.

You tried to take deep breaths, but all that came out were quick, shallow ones. Swiftly, Jun came to your side. “Deep breaths,” she advised. You focused on the sound of her voice as you began rolling up your kimono. Thank God, you thought, relieved that you hadn’t injured yourself walking here. “Why don’t we try making your bed, huh?”

You nodded, deciding to stand up and move to the tearoom. Tears began flowing freely, your chest heaving with sobs as your mind kept replaying the blurry faces of your loved ones. You were so unbelievably frustrated.

“I want to go home,” you cried, gripping the fabric of your kimono tightly. “I want to see my brother.”

Jun nodded empathetically, allowing you to voice your frustrations while she looked for sheets. “But I don’t even know where to begin looking,” you confessed. Pathetic whimpers escaped your lips as you stared at the clear water outside. The room grew rather cold. “My brother, he must be so scared. He was my twin, you know?”

Your face was blotchy red as she spread the pale pink sheets on the bed. You found yourself liking the pink theme. It was unique. “My brother was a difficult child, you see?” You hiccupped, and your crying subsided slightly as you began to recall faint memories of your childhood. “He was a horrible kid. Really. I was calm in comparison to him but..."

The sobs started again and grew louder. “He was too much. My parents sent him off to live with the village leader, but he refused to go because my parents didn’t want to send me.” This happened years ago; why did the pain feel so fresh? “So they abandoned both of us.”

Your crying became uncontrollable as you curled up on the tatami mat. “Shhhh.” Jun dropped the sheets and sat down next to you. “What you’re going through is extremely traumatic. Difficult, emotionally pressing memories will always take priority over more joyful ones.”

That didn’t comfort you. Were you going to be stuck living the rest of your life like this? Is your trauma resurfacing because of your injury? You couldn’t help but wonder. “Why don’t I go get another doctor?”

You nodded. 

If they knew something, anything, that could relieve the extreme distress you suddenly found yourself in, you would be grateful. You stood up, watching as Jun hurriedly made your bed before tucking you in. 

You fell asleep rather quickly.

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

You awoke sometime later, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows as it peeked in through your now closed outdoor shoji. You felt surprisingly well-rested, your body rejuvenated from the deep sleep. Stretching slightly, you took a moment to take in your surroundings. A meal had been quietly brought inside and laid upon the table in the tearoom, the dishes neatly arranged and waiting for you.

Just how long have you slept? The question lingered in your mind as you tried to piece together the events of the past day. The last thing you remembered was having an emotional outburst and Jun saying she was going to get the doctor. But now, Jun was nowhere to be seen. Looking around, you got up, your leg slightly sore from the unfamiliar bedding, only to jump back at the sight of a man sitting on a chair directly next to you.

“Jesus!” You yelled, your hand instinctively flying to your chest as your heart pounded against your ribcage. “Who are you?”

His eyes widened in surprise, and he began flapping his hands around, almost like he was trying to explain himself without talking. You watched him, confusion etched on your face, as he began to make noises.

“I, I, I-” His words were garbled, more like random noises than coherent speech. But you managed to catch the repeated ‘I’.

“I?” You echoed, your brow furrowing in confusion. “Why are you here?”

He shook his head, frustration evident in his features. Then, he opened his mouth and pointed at what little was left of his tongue. You gasped and instinctively moved closer to the man. “My goodness, your tongue!” You exclaimed, taken aback by the sight. His tongue had large chunks missing, but despite his condition, he seemed desperate to get you to understand him.

He then pointed at himself and gave a thumbs up, as if to reassure you that he was okay. You felt yourself relax. “I’m guessing Jun went to sleep?” He nodded in response. Then, you took notice of his attire. Just like Jun, the man was dressed in blue. Could he be a nurse, perhaps? “Why don’t we find some paper so you can write?”

He nodded, his long hair shaking with each vigorous nod. “Very well.” You got out of bed and began making it, but he dismissed you with a wave of his hand and took over the task himself. “I don’t think there’s any paper in this room, so why don’t we check the common room?”

He nodded in agreement as you excused yourself and headed to the bathroom. As you shut the door behind you, you were finally alone with your thoughts and your reflection. The bathroom was equipped with a closet, and a rather long mirror stretched across one wall, reflecting back an image of someone who seemed almost unrecognizable.

You were skinny.

Your mind flashed with a brief, haunting image of how you used to look, and a wave of nausea washed over you. You remembered a time when your body was strong and muscular, but now all that remained were frail arms that seemed pitifully weak. As you stripped out of your kimono, a gasp escaped your lips.

Scars, like a constellation of past battles, dotted your body. Some were fresh, while others were old and faded, their stories long forgotten. But what caught your attention the most were your hands. You remembered how they used to be—tough, calloused, bearing the evidence of hours and hours of hard labor. But for what? What kind of work had you done that had left your body scarred and your hands hardened?

Thinking about it was pointless.

It was just going to upset you.

So, you rummaged through the closet, dressed into a silken gray kimono that you were sure that Jun left behind, and got ready for the day. Meeting the man back in your room, he greeted you with a pithy smile and a bow.

“There’s no need to be so formal, sir,” you said, your hand cutting through the air in a dismissive gesture. His stiffness seemed out of place in the relaxed atmosphere of the room. “Shall we proceed?”

He turned his attention to the tea table, where a meal had been carefully arranged. Despite the enticing aroma wafting from the dishes, you didn’t feel the slightest bit hungry. At least, not yet. “Let’s find some paper for you and take a little walk, shall we?”

In response, he extended his arm towards you, making a silent offer of support. You accepted gratefully, your thoughts turning sour at the prospect of navigating those damn stairs. With a courteous nod, he opened the door for both of you, and you made your way towards the common area.

You began thinking about Douma as you opened the various cabinets and desks. Was he the one who sent you this man? What had happened to his mouth in the first place? It was rather unsettling.

Finding a sheet of parchment and a rather fancy fountain pen, you handed them to the man. “Why don’t you tell me your name?” He began writing. My name is Haji. 

You smiled at him. “Hello, Haji.” You quickly told him your name.

Jun and I will be taking turns, watching over you in shifts. Day and night, one of us will always be there,

Your condition, your situation, it’s been relayed to the doctors. They’re aware. Our leader, too, has been informed.

That was rather unsettling, you thought. You gave him a kind smile disregardless. He stilled for a moment, looking around, before he started writing again.

I was there with you that night.

His writing sent a chill down your spine. He was there? A flurry of questions swirled in your mind, each one more pressing than the last. How was he there? What did he see? What did he know? 

“How?”

The sudden opening of the building’s doors seemed to startle him. In a swift, almost reflexive motion, he crumbled up the paper. It happened so quickly, so unexpectedly, that you blinked in surprise. Before you could even react, he shoved the crumpled paper into his mouth, swallowing it as if it were nothing more than a piece of candy. The action was so bizarre and out of place that for a moment, you wondered if you were dreaming.

Two men, both clad in red, approached you and Haji. “Ah, our guest!” They bowed to you in unison, their faces lighting up with a warm welcome. Their gaze then shifted to Haji, their enthusiasm dimming noticeably. “And Haji.”

Haji gave you a silent, pleading look as you began conversing with the two men. You decided to keep his secret. What he had confided in you would remain confidential until you died. You couldn’t help but think that he might be more useful in uncovering the full extent of what had transpired compared to Douma.

You learned that the two men were also twins, fraternal ones, just like you and your brother. Their names were Kuro and Hachiro, and they were the architects who had designed the cult. However, their stay was brief, and they departed as quickly as they had arrived.

“There’s more to this place, isn’t there?”

He nodded.

Shit.

[valkyyriia]

Gradually | Suddenly

Words: 836 CW: None | SFW Tags: Fluff, No Dialogue, Angst, Unrequited Love (conflicting, I know) Pairing: Theodorus Van Gogh / OC (Anna Devereux), Comte de Saint-Germain / OC (one-sided)

Note: Anna is the first OC I made for the Ikemen series. She's been through a few changes since her conception. At this point in her story, Anna was bitten and turned by Comte around a decade ago. She's got a lot of conflicting feelings about the circumstances in which she became a vampire. I normally pair her with Comte, but I've been really into Theo for the last few days for some reason and I've been toying around with this pairing.

I really should introduce my OCs at some point...

Not posted on any other sites.

Theo wasn't sure when it happened.

He couldn't tell if it happened gradually or all at once.

He woke up alongside his broer in this mansion; both of them newly-born vampires, and he scarcely saw a glimpse of her. What little of her he did see was usually in passing in the halls.

Theo didn't care to get to know her. He had come back for three specific reasons; he didn't have time to be distracted by some girl.

He said that, at least - but he found his eyes followed her when he did see her. It didn't escape his notice that their sire, 'le Comte', did much the same. It was as if this girl - whoever she was - was made of iron, and their eyes magnets that were drawn to her form.

'Anna', they said her name was.

He had dismissed it as unimportant to his goals. Inconsequential. And yet...

Theo didn't know when he committed it to memory.

There was very little about Anna that escaped his thoughts, both conscious and unconscious. This grated on his nerves. Why was he so fixated on this woman?

Perhaps it was the desire to ease the sadness that encapsulated her entire being. Perhaps it was the sunshine he saw in her rare smiles, so radiant that it blinded him, yet he found he couldn't turn away.

More and more of his days were spent in her presence. He found himself seeking out her company without even realizing it.

For Theodorus Van Gogh, it happened gradually, and then all at once.

Anna wasn't sure when it happened.

She couldn't tell you if it happened gradually or all at once.

She woke up to the sound of new voices in the mansion's vast halls. She made it a point to avoid them. She didn't want anyone seeing her in the state she was in.

Anna didn't want to get to know anyone. They were more people that she would lose one day. She had all the time in the world, but she was too broken to try to befriend anyone. She was sure they saw her the same way.

That was what she said, at least - but she found herself lingering a few extra seconds in the hallways where the newcomers were. She noticed the younger of the two - brothers, she guessed - tended to watch her. Much like Abel did. She couldn't fathom why either of them were so fixated on her; she was sure she was a mess.

Through Leonardo's whisperings, she learned their names. The elder, 'Vincent' - all kind smiles and sunny disposition. The kind of person Anna would drag down with her if she dared get too close.

And 'Theo' - the younger brother, full of harsh words and intense stares. He eyed her with an emotion Anna couldn't comprehend; she wasn't sure he would be able to explain it even had she asked. Anna didn't think she wanted to know.

And yet, she stored their names and faces in her memory. If nothing else, a break to the monotony that her 'taste of eternity' brought.

She found herself thinking of them both more and more. More often than not, her thoughts strayed to the younger brother. She wasn't sure what about him encapsulated her so.

Perhaps it was the deep pain she saw in his eyes when he thought no one was looking. Perhaps it was the strength in his resolve, in his posture; or the kindness in the glances he so often gave her.

At some point, Anna stopped pushing him away. She started to seek out Theo's company, too.

Her smiles became brighter and more bountiful. They no longer hurt as much.

For Anna, it happened gradually, and then all at once.

Le Comte wasn't sure when it happened.

He couldn't tell you if it happened gradually, or all at once.

He brought in two new residents - a pair of brothers, both fated to die far too young in tragedy. Comte had hoped that their presence in the mansion would be beneficial for them and the world - that they would be able to continue to share their gifts with humanity. He also hoped they would be able to help bring Anna out of her shell, even if only a bit.

He hadn't counted on the younger of the two catching the eye of his darling Anna.

Comte's eyes followed the pair as they danced around each other and the feelings that were beginning to take root between them.

He watched as the pair began to gravitate towards one another. He noticed how Theodorus slowly but surely began to repair the gaping hole that Comte had inadvertently torn in Anna's heart.

Part of him began to regret bringing the brothers back to life.

But another, greater, part of him was just happy to see Anna smiling again.

Even if it wasn't at him.

Perhaps he had lost before he had even started.

For le Comte de Saint-Germain, it happened gradually, and then all at once.

Taglist: @natimiles @chandeliermichel

[wri0thesley]

You know i had this idea of like sleeping beauty and yandere diluc. Basically Diluc falls in love with his darling but then they’re cursed to sleep, with only true love’s kiss being ablr to wake them. So of course Diluc goes to the rescue, slays the dragon etc etc. but when he finally kisses his darling: they don’t wake up. Ofc he’s panicked and concerned, who if not him could they have possibly loved? He now has two choices: either keep his darling but they’re eternally asleep, or try to track down whoever their supposed “true love is” and force them to kiss just so his darling will wake up (he will probably kill said true love afterwards).

oh, it would kill him knowing that you're his true love (he would never let go of that thought), but perhaps he is not yours. it would kill him inside, too, that he had to bring your true love here to awake you and then dispose of them before you'd blinked months of sleep from your eyes - but he knows that he would treat you better, more kindly, more the way you deserve to be treated.

not that you do not look lovely sleeping - not that the thought of having you always ensconced in a locked room, never stirring or trying to escape, did not lick at the corners of his mind. but he wants your smile, your grateful fawning, the sound of his name on your lips, all too much to just let you lay there as a beautiful statue.

honestly i love this thought fgbkjnfgn. mond has so many fairytale parallels and fairytale stuff ingrained into its lore and culture, and so many fairytale archetypes with the knights and the dragons and everything, that fairytales just fit SO WELL with it!!!

[fallinggravity678]

12 for Boblin (or whoever I’m not your mom)

This is soo late Im sorry but hopefully whatever this is makes up for it <3

I had another ask that also boblin but with #4, and I think that one can technically fit here too so I used both!

12- Write about your ship going somewhere new together for the first time.

4- Write about your ship holding hands in a happy moment. 

As he pulled over to park on the curb, Bob couldn't help but feel joy rushing through him as he gazed at the building; the building that would hopefully be theirs after today. It was perfect. The perfect place to fulfill his dream of opening a restaurant.

Linda gasped from beside him. Although she had seen the building before from photos Bob had eagerly showed her, this was her first time seeing it in person. “Oh, Bobby, it's perfect! Even better in person!”

Bob smiled in response. It was a beauty, aside from perhaps needing a few repairs here and there, but he supposed they could find someone to help them with that issue at a later time.

Bob got out of the car, followed by Linda, and looked around, looking for their landlord as they planned on meeting him there. Though evidently, they'd arrived early.

While they waited, the couple sat atop their car. Bob rambled to Linda about the floor plan he spent all night making, he already knew where everything would go. Linda listened intently, adding in her own commentary occasionally. A reason why Bob loved Linda, she was always eager to listen to him talk about the things he was passionate about when no one else would. He didn't know what alternate universes he saved to deserve a girlfriend like her, but he's eternally grateful he had her.

They stayed that way for who knows how long. As far as they knew, it was only them and nothing else. Their own little world.

The honk of a horn interrupted Bob mid-sentence. He saw a go-kart pull onto the curb in front of their car. Their landlord. They had met him once before, back when they were looking for a place. He seemed nice enough, albeit a bit… odd. Bob tried not to be too bothered by it, the man was offering this place as their new restaurant and home.

A wave of nervousness came over Bob right then. It wasn't unusual for him to suddenly worry about opening up this restaurant. But now they were here and faced with the possibility of the restaurant being a reality, and that thought equally scared and excited him.

Linda seemed to notice the shift. She moved her hand from rubbing her stomach and laid it on top of Bob's, their fingers intertwining. The gesture helped, as Bob felt his breathing ease. How she always managed without fail to bring Bob down to earth, he still had no idea.

“Bobby,” Linda said in that soft tone she did when she comforted him. “Are you ready to go in? Or do you want to stay out here a little longer?”

Bob looked up at the restaurant, their landlord who stood by the front door, waving, and then to his girlfriend, who looked at him with the softest, most loving gaze anyone has ever given him in years.

He sighed, squeezing Linda's hand. “I think…. Yeah, I'm ready,” Linda smiled at that. Hand in hand, the couple got off their car roof and followed the strange landlord into their soon to be home.

[darknessconsumesmeslowly]

The Darkness Within

********************************

Ghost Trick FF

Prompt: Yomiel using his powers and/or creepy stasis corpse to commit crimes.

Warnings: Depiction of violence, twisted mindset.

A/N: Wrote this for @clay-cuttlefish for the ghost swap - thank you very much for the prompt! And thank you very much for organizing this ghost swap event, @fyeahghosttrick! It was super exciting and I enjoyed writing Yomiel - this gave me the opportunity to explore this awesome character a bit more. I really hope I could do your prompt and your preferences justice and hope you like it.

That being said - constructive feedback from anyone is always very much appreciated, so I can hone my skill :) Please enjoy!

I am also super excited for the release of Ghost Trick!! It's trick time!

********************************

It had been months already. Why then did it still hurt so goddamn much? Sissel… this existence… all of it was a nightmare he was powerless to wake up from.

What good did those powers bring him if he didn’t have her by his side anymore? What sense did it have? Gods, why?

He had tried to follow her countless of times, tried to just erase his existence. His very being. And failed miserably.

Sometimes he dared to long for something as simple as… sleep - for any kind of release, really. 

As a consequence, the gods seemed to have decided unanimously for Yomiel to suffer… and he suspected he was in for an eternity.

He dropped the knife that he had held to try and cut off his own body’s hand. Not even a single drop of blood. He didn’t know why he bothered to try anymore. He had lost track of anything he did but for the day his life had been ruined… and the day he had lost her.

Those events were ingrained in his mind, just as intense as when they first unfolded, as well as the exact number of days he had suffered since. It had been them and-

A meowing interrupted his dark thoughts and he remembered. Of course. His friend still had to eat. Sissel had to eat and live… for them.

“What would I do without you, Sissel? What am I doing without you?” He looked at his friend and at nothing all at once. 

The black cat looked up at him and meowed gently.

“... Thank you, Sissel.”

He awkwardly manipulated himself to move to the door, turned the knob without feeling it and stepped out.

“Time to get some food,” ... and retain his sanity for another day… somewhat.

•••

Rats were easy to manipulate. Once he got the hang out of flying, pigeons became just as easy. 

The small animals did everything he wanted them to. He could make them move. He could make them fight. He could even make them stop breathing, but… but that was once… and it hadn't been on purpose. 

Forcing his will on other creatures so easily did something to him, but Yomiel didn’t dare thinking more about that just yet.

When he felt like losing himself, he talked to Sissel. Whenever he switched to the ghost world there was this one familiar core that would stay by his side and he was grateful for that. Then, talking wasn’t even necessary.  

Yomiel started taking over so many different cores and beings, because doing anything was better than to succumb to the hurt and suffering and pain. Sometimes he made them suffer too. Tried to let them feel what he felt, but it wasn’t ever enough. And he felt guilty for that. Each time a little less... 

They say that time would heal the pain. Whoever said that was a bloody liar and hadn’t truly felt real pain. Yomiel felt like no one did. No one felt the way he did. 

Soon Yomiel could do anything once he possessed the core of a small animal and he did try… anything. But never with cats, if he could help it.

He perfected the art of manipulating small animals and started concentrating on manipulating his own corpse better, too. He tried mimicking others in the way they walked, talked, moved. It started to look natural. Human. Was he human? Does feeling pain make you human?

•••

Why... Why were they not feeling it?

It should hurt more. Everything about this should hurt so much. Should feel like agony. They should feel the pain. The unending suffering.

A whimper escaped the person under his corpse's, his, hand.

"You... Do you feel it? Do you feel the pain?" Judging from their weakened screams, when he pushed the knife deeper into their wound, Yomiel suspected that they somehow did. Lucky them.

"P-please... I'll give you anything, please just... just let me go... I won't tell anybody, please..."

Yomiel raised the head of his body - a bit too abruptly and a bit too unnaturally, because he made his victim jump uncontrollably. Hm. Still needed to work on that...

"You don't have anything to give, except your screams and your pain..." He deepened the cut with the knife.

Feel the agonizing pain.

"When will you stop screaming, I wonder...?"

It turned out to be a very long time.

•••

When he washed the last of the blood from his hands, Yomiel just let the water drip. The sound was better to bear than the nothingness he felt whenever his body seemed to touch anything.

This existence... even the pain of others was not enough. They didn’t feel the same way he did. They didn’t suffer enough. 

Sissel... What am I supposed to do?

Yomiel wished he could cry. He wished something would change. Why was he still in this world? It didn’t make sense. He looked for a purpose. For something. It didn’t matter what, just… anything to diffuse the impossible pain and loneliness inside. The hole where once his heart was. The darkness. 

He was sinking.

A nearby phone rang repeatedly and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated that sound. When was the last time someone called him? When was the last time he needed to pick up the phone? No one ever called the dead.

Why didn't they pick up?

Yomiel paid a visit to that unfortunate neighbor that night.

•••

Yomiel had to check twice, when he switched to the ghost world again. But there was no doubt about it… there were… new cores. Objects... and people.

He didn’t feel any remorse when he seized a core. That was something he left behind a long time ago.

It took some time getting used to. People were a tad harder to control than small animals. 

Forcing his will on actual living, thinking humans did something more to him than it did with the animals. Yomiel embraced it eagerly. 

•••

The body dropped limply when Yomiel allowed his manipulated victim to let go of the throat. It was… new… exciting. 

And the best wasn’t the killing. The best was the expression of the ones acting out his every  bidding. They felt it. The remorse. The guilt. The suffering.

His newfound powers gave him a release he hadn’t imagined he would ever get. And he craved for more.

•••

“N-no, I’m sorry, love, I am not…! I don’t know what is happening! Please, oh god!” 

Yomiel made his new puppet corner their loved one. He found out that a saw was an excellent choice of weapon.

He saw the fear in the victim and the desperation in the other. 

Yes… endure the pain like I do…

The screams of both echoed through the night and it was music to Yomiel’s ears.

•••

He found lots of different ways to let the people suffer - both, the manipulated ones and their victims. He found out that there was no limit to what he could do to them. If anything, he was a perfectionist and he perfected the manipulation of people, too. And the killing of them. It became as easy as breathing was for them.

But… the thrill faded. Soon the screams sounded the same and they did suffer, but while his suffering got worse, theirs stayed the same. It was unfair. And his thoughts circled back to why. 

Every laughter, every happy face made his mood worse. Poor Sissel had to endure all of it, but still, Sissel stayed faithfully by his side. The manipulation of objects didn't even begin to challenge him.

Maybe… maybe they could start anew. But Yomiel just couldn’t let go of the events from years ago. 

It had been them and- ...and in that moment he knew what to do.

It was time that they started to get a taste of what he felt. Random strangers just didn’t cut it anymore (he had made them cut each other up too many times already). Yomiel had access to this immeasurable power. Might as well make use of it. To finally show them what they sowed.

•••

Finding the first cop was easy. Yomiel found not needing to sleep useful for once. He used the detested telephone lines, too. Anything to reach his newfound purpose. That was why he still  existed this long, after all. 

Yomiel wanted him to lose his precious someone, too. And he wanted to do it in the most painful way possible. He took his time to flesh out a perfect plan.

When the small girl started building her little contraption, it got even better than what he had imagined and gods, had he imagined lots of ways. It would be a few days more to wait, but oh was the wait worth it.

•••

The faithful day came and another body tumbled to the ground. A meaningful body.

How does it feel, Jowd?

Yomiel’s thoughts raced when he fulfilled the deed. His heart would be competing with them if it was still beating. 

This… this was it. 

With this he was sure to get what would be his only salvation. Revenge. 

One small gear set into motion. One small step at a time. One death after the other.

... He had an eternity after all.

[pure-garbage]

Anything You Ask For! The Weight Of A Promise

Chapter Warnings: Angst

"I feel... so betrayed!" Lana finally managed.

She was still shaking in Zoro's embrace, but for the first time, she realized it was more than despair that rocked her. Rage overtook her tone as her hands fisted in Zoro's shirt, clutching him like a lifeline as she helplessly broke down.

"You're not the first man to ask me that... to say you want me forever!"

Zoro's eyes flew open wide with alarm as Lana crumbled in his arms. Her tears soaked his chest while she shook with ragged, unrestrained sobs. Her words were wails, keening and broken as she finally gave voice to a pain she'd carried with her for years.

"It- it was so long ago, I- I didn't think about it- I couldn't think about it, not about him... not for years, but when you- when you said that, when you- those words, those same damn words! And I just-"

Zoro didn't know how much more of her desolation he could bear. He quaked with fury and the exertion of restraining himself.

"All I could hear when you said that was his voice! His promises, his lies! He gave me so much hope, only to... only... he let Corrin take me and ran to save his own skin! I know we were young, but he didn't even try! If he wasn't even going to try, why the hell did he say it in the first place?! He didn't fight for me, he didn't even look at me! He didn't..."

Lana's words lost all coherency, dissolving into a terribly symphony of grief that Zoro had no choice but to watch unfold.

'Robin was right,' he realized, grim at the thought that came too late. 'Sanji... they were both right. I should have given her time... damn it!'

Suddenly, Zoro understood that it was pride that led Lana to shut him out. On some level, she'd known this breakdown was coming, knew it couldn't be avoided forever.

'Her only wish was for me not to see her like this and I didn't honor it.'

Shame filled Zoro at his own impatience and lack of perception.

'I should have known better!'

"If you want me to let you... if you..." Zoro struggled to find the right words, not wanting to push his bereft lover deeper into despair. "Say the word and I'll leave you alone, if you want me to. I'll go, I won't be mad if-"

"No!"

The word was a desperate, choked plea. A much as her torment tortured Zoro, as much as he wanted to leave and spare her pride until she could collect herself, he couldn't walk away from her in this anguished state.

"Zoro! Don't leave me! Please!"

Zoro held her more tightly. Her legs buckled and he followed her to the floor, kneeling as she bawled against him helplessly.

"Never!" Zoro promised vehemently. "That's the whole point, isn't it? I'll never leave you."

Lana only cried harder, but she was glad that he didn't let her go.

It felt like an eternity, but Lana's wails died down eventually. Zoro stroked her hair, silent as he waited for her storm to quiet. When she had finally cried all her tears, he wiped her cheeks dry. Terrible as this ordeal had become, Zoro was grateful for one thing at least.

'I didn't hurt her feelings after all. All this, her running off, shutting me out... none of it really has anything to do with me after all.'

Zoro felt no offense and the revelation, only relief.

Vision still swimming, breath still stuttering, Lana met Zoro's eyes to find them full of fury. Dismay washed over her devastatingly, self doubt dragging her to the lowest depths of despair, further than she'd ever imagined it possible to sink.

'I knew it... he thinks this is so stupid. He thinks I'm weak, that I'm being dumb... I probably am.'

"Would it make you feel better..." Zoro asked, voice shaking with rage, "... if I bring you the bastard's head?"

"Wh-what?" Lana gasped.

"Whoever this guy is that hurt you. Whoever it was that made you those promises and broke them. I'll return this suffering on him a thousandfold. I'll tear him to shreds. Tell me that's what you want, and I'll get Luffy to tell me I can hunt him down for you. I'll do so much worse than end him, if that's what it'll take to make you stop crying!"

Fire blazed in Zoro's eyes, a roaring inferno of wrath that Lana realized wasn't directed at her for her loss of control. These flames burned for her sake, longing to consume the source of her pain, to erase it violently from the world.

And Lana knew he would do it. There was nothing Zoro wouldn't do for her, no fight he would run from, no enemy he wouldn't obliterate in her name. She knew in her core that any promise her swordsman made, he would keep, no matter the cost.

"Oh, Zoro," she sighed. Tears welled up in her eyes again, but she hid them against his shoulder.

'Be mine forever and I'll be yours.'

The words echoed in her mind once more, but all she could hear this time was Zoro's voice.

'His. Forever.'

Without the weight of her past attached to the words, Lana realized there was still something holding her back from accepting his proposal. As much as she wanted to, as overwhelmed as she was with gratitude and adoration for the man who wanted her to be his wife, there was still something...

"Tell me," Zoro pressed. "I'll give you anything you ask for."

Lana lifted her face to press a brief, reverent kiss to his cheek.

"Time. Please..."

Zoro grunted unhappily, understanding immediately what she was requesting. Slaughter would have been an easier gift to impart.

"I love you so much," Lana went on, "... but please, I can't give you the answer you want today. I'm not ready. Understand?"

Her words softened the hard edges of Zoro's stubborn resolve. Their love had gone unspoken until now, at least in so many words. That realization gave Zoro pause. It wasn't something he'd put any thought into.

'Maybe I asked too soon... if we haven't even had time to speak it yet...'

"I said anything," Zoro conceded. "Time is... nothing. Of course you can have time. You can have all the time you want."

Zoro grit his teeth, his ire turning inward as Lana's slowing breaths swirled over the skin of his neck.

'I can't say no to her... that's going to be a problem. Someday I'm going to agree to something I'll end up regretting... maybe I already have.'

He couldn't worry about it now.

"And... Lana?" Zoro kissed her forehead tenderly. "I love you too."

"Aww!"

"So sweet!"

"How moving!"

A chorus of admiration betrayed the presence of the rest of the crew.

'Oh yeah, Luffy went to get them all,' Lana recalled, her face turning bright red as she peered over Zoro's shoulder to see their heads poking around the still-open doorway.

"Hey! Can't any of you jerks mind your own damn business?!" Zoro demanded, head swiveling to glare daggers at the comrades.

"It's not our fault!" Nami shot back defensively, stepping into full view with her hands on her hips. "Luffy dragged us all down here yammering about how Lana's gonna eat a devil fruit! Take it up with him!"

"She told me she was gonna eat it!" Luffy huffed.

"I think she meant later," Robin put in with a beleaguered sigh.

"Yeah, these two clearly have a lot going on right now," Usopp tsked. "Seriously, Luffy, read the room."

"Will all you idiots just leave already?!" Zoro roared.

"Of course, bro! Come on, guys, these two need some privacy," Franky announced.

"Yeah, I feel so rude right now," Chopper sighed abashedly.

"So wait... Lana, don't eat the fruit without getting us first, okay?!" Luffy called as Nami towed him away by his ear.

"Sorry for disturbing you," Usopp mumbled, taking it upon himself to finally close the door in parting.

Zoro and Lana sighed simultaneously.

"Idiots!" Zoro muttered in embarrassment.

"It's nice that they care so much, I guess, but why couldn't they have walked away sooner?" Lana lamented.

"That's just Luffy for you."

"Luffy I get, he has zero ability to navigate sensitive situations... but everyone else? They should have known better!"

They're all birds of a feather," Zoro grumbled.

"Nosy birds."

"Yep."

____________________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[cowboysandpilots]

For the line game, would you be able to write for Steddie using inspiration from this dialogue in The Little Prince?

"Where are the people?" resumed the little prince at last. "It's a little lonely in the desert...”

"It is lonely when you're among people, too," said the snake.

(Yes, of course! This is amazing. Thank you so much for asking ❤️ I hope you don't mind that I snuck a little reference to ronance in there. 😅)

Wandering around in the upside down is cold and quiet, and Eddie hates the way this place makes the hair on his arms stand up. "Where are all the people?" Eddie asks, trying to keep his voice steady even though he's kind of glad they haven't run into anyone in Hawkins that has gone missing. He was terrified of what they'd find. "I mean, it's a little lonely down here."

"It's lonely when you're among people, too," Steve scoffs quietly. Okay, so maybe he's still a little hurt by Nancy's rejection. Was it so wrong of him to want those things with her? To have love and have a family?

Eddie can't help the roll of his eyes. "Okay, I'm gonna be blunt here," he states, stopping in his tracks and grabbing Steve's arm to make him stop as well.

"Do you have any other setting?" Steve asks with a frown because when has Eddie ever not been blunt.

Seemingly not noticing Steve's tone, Eddie just barrels on with his rant. "You need to get over Nancy, okay? Let her go. Because you're way more awesome than anyone gives you credit for, even the kids who worship you. And I know, I know, I'm one of those people too; I thought you were just another asshole jock, but I was wrong, okay, dude? You're cool, and you care about those little shrimps even when they're insufferably annoying. Nancy deserves to be happy. With Jonathan or Robin or whoever she wants, but it's not gonna be you, okay? So first, accept that.

Steve's frown only deepens. "Robin? Why would Nancy want— she's not..."

Eddie just keeps going like he hadn't even realized that Steve had interrupted him. He had; he just had to get the rest of this out, or it would be forgotten forever in favour of the rant about why he knows that Nancy is bi and Robin is a lesbian and how gay people just know these things about other gays. Living small town means that it's pretty much a survival skill, to have a good gaydar, to be able to know who the other gay people are without outing yourself to the people who aren't and putting yourself in danger.

"And you do, too, okay? You deserve to be happy with whoever you want, but it's not gonna be Nancy, so just... you have to move on." Eddie tries to keep his own feelings out of it, keep his crush on Steve under wraps because he's nothing if not a coward, and he doesn't really want to be punched in the face when they're already in this creepy alternate universe. He keeps walking after that, and it takes him a few minutes to see that Steve is still frozen there, not following him.

"Look, I'm sorry if that hurt you, but it needed to be said; you're not gonna feel any less lonely moping and pining after Nancy." Eddie sighs after he makes his way back to Steve. Eddie thought Steve might actually punch him or maybe just yell, but what he actually did is something he never thought would happen.

Steve pulls Eddie in by his shirt, and Eddie is clutching onto his own vest that now lived on Steve's shoulders when the younger man kisses him. It's not soft or unsure, it's hard and full of passion, and Steve puts his all into it just like everything else, and neither man pulls away until they're breathless.

Maybe they weren't lonely, and maybe the only people they really needed were each other, upside down or not.

—

(Hi, if you've read this far, I'll assume it's because you liked this little fic at least a little bit? I would be so eternally grateful if you could hit that little reblog button. It costs nothing, and it REALLY helps. Also, if you can, please think about commissioning me, maybe? 🥺 I have lots of fandoms to choose from. You could also just support me on Kofi from this link as well. 💕)

[aylabyu]

Sleep.

A GN!Reader x ??? SFW fic

A/N: y'all, my knowledge about this character is non-existent so forgive me if I ever had any information wrong, or completely wrong. never correct I'm sure... also I wanted this fic to be gender neutral so please point out to me if there are mistakes, in this context and grammar-wise too!

[whoever guesses who this character is can tell me what they want next to be published by me! (lmao I'm acting as if I'm well-known) like they can tell me who the character/s will be in the fic, genre, some tags, things to not include, etc. I can write other fandoms... I think, but I don't generally watch most animes like MHA or JJK but I might manage..? but for games like OM! or twst, I can...! kinda,,] [still open, will edit this if it changes later on!]

.... because I have so many ideas and idk what to do first so I'll let others decide...

the moon greets the man who is looking up at it, its majestic form putting pressure on him. he was about to stand up and reluctantly leave his lover when she muttered.

"ugh, what.. time is it?" you groaned, feeling the bed dip and soft lips on your forehead.

"it's not near daybreak, go back to sleep."

"where are you going then?"

he looked at you with his gentle smile, the one where you know he'll fascinate you until you heed his wishes.

"i'm just going out for some fresh air," he simply stated.

he was brushing your hair, detangling and smoothing it down, which ultimately makes you in a trance between reality and dreamland. the latter is the winning side.

as a last resort, you threw your body at his, "you'll go off somewhere again, stay with me."

"but I am with you. you are my lover, my sweet."

"oh stop. stay with me. in bed."

you felt him softly sigh and surrendered. he fixed your sleeping position so he can put his arms around your frail body.

silence reigned, and when he heard your soft snores, he whispered, "... i'm sorry, my dear. i'm so sorry."

tears ran down his face, but he made sure they never touch your complexion. he doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve tainting you, even with his tears – doesn't deserve you. his heart and soul ached for you.

he stopped when he felt a hand touch his wet cheek.

"why are you crying? who hurt my sweetheart?" you mumbled through closed eyes, still rubbing your hand on his cheek.

"it's just the water, dear. my hair is acting up again."

you started to open your eyes to see if what he said was true, but he put a hand over your vision.

"i, i am not attractive right now. please, have sweet dreams," he glided his hand over your forehead which made you close your eyes and instantly sleep.

he made sure you are in deep sleep until tomorrow when he is sure he will get the job done. time for revenge.

he got up and went out of their dwelling, meeting his friend who he called upon.

amber eyes stared at him when he saw him, "are you sure? you do know that i can't, and won't, help you."

"yes, if it is for them, i am willing to face everything. even when going against you," he looked at the steely man in front of him.

"... have no worries, i will not meddle in your retaliation. the time is near, get going. i will stay back, as promised, to take care of them until you get back."

your lover nodded, thankful for his friend's consideration, "thank you, i will be eternally grateful to you. excuse me."

both men nodded at each other, the elegant one going out to his adversary and the man with amber eyes going to you, who is slumbering incredibly deeply.

"my dear, forgive me. i love you to the moon and back, let Celestia go to hell for all i care," thunder rumbled through the night skies, as if hearing his declaration of battle.

he teleported to the entrance of this damned nation, and instead of a knock on the door, he raised his hand and let a severe flood wreak havoc upon everyone.

why would he care if innocents die? why would he care if people curse him to death? why would he care if he would die?

why?

they never cared even when you were innocent. they never cared when you were just framed so obviously, but they threw you down until your wings got torn and bloody. they never cared about you.

that should change now.

they will know of your dignified self. oh so regal and majestic, no one should even set their sights upon you – not even his own.

his gaze burned with the thought of you, itching to be within your delicate embrace and alleviating aura, but he used this fire to intensify the torrent silencing the screams of the citizens.

daybreak is near, and he should be done with the first step in his plan before it. with this, he moved on to the grand fortress with hatred in his heart.

"i have to hurry, they might wake up without me nuzzling their neck," he smiled maniacally while summoning his hydro serpents to aid him in this gratifying massacre.