#laying on the floor staring into space touching the veil

[defiledtomb]

(Ibis anon) hold on these last few asks is making me want to rewrite some things-

This work breeds some juicy angst. I am crying but it is worth it

!

[honey-decadence]

My All (Mia Fey x Reader)

no it's not a joke! i've had this in the drafts for awhile now and thought it would be a nice treat for today! no pranks, no bs, just an Ace Attorney fic!

the original prompt for this came from a list from another user that i had forgotten the link to! the only things in my notes were just:

one word prompt: #16 besotted - a strong infatuation, blindly or utterly infatuated

im terribly sorry for not being able to provide the list but if i do end up finding it, i'll be updating this with a link!

CW: NSFT, reader has no pronouns but is referred to as Mia's girlfriend, no mention of genitalia, nipple licking, kissing, office setting, Mia and reader just REALLY like each other

Word Count: 1157

“I want to do everything with you. I want this moment to go on forever Mia.” you confessed, softly pinning the woman down on her desk. Your hands grasped her jacket firmly.

“Is that so?” the woman hummed, enjoying the intense look on your face.

Your hands then ran over her body, from the soft shoulder massages you gave, from the gentle squeezes on her waist, to the more daring gropes of her breasts, there wasn’t a single part of Mia you didn’t want to touch, you felt like every inch of her deserved your undying attention. Part of it was because with Mia as your girlfriend, it was easy to lose yourself.

Had it not been for the window’s blinds being shut and the calming black veil of the night, the bell boy from the hotel across the office might have had an eyeful of another office incident: except this time it was the two of you being unable to unstick yourselves from each other.

You guided the woman to lay down; Mia was on her back on top of her own desk and her hair sprawled out with important papers scattered across the floor. You closed the distance and rested your weary head in the crook of her neck, taking in a deep breath of her scent. Everything about this woman was so captivating to you. 

It all happened so quickly, this feeling of desire overcame the two of you in one second, you were both discussing the evidence of a case, and the next, you both started getting handsy with one another. Your memory was foggy at the moment, unsure of who placed whose hand on whose butt, who said what, who first kissed who, etc.

However the end result was the same; you became smitten, you were deeply infatuated with the defense attorney and you wanted to take her right then and there. Your hand ran along her curves slowly, soaking in the sensation and her soft sounds, and latched on to the zipper of her suit. Your thoughts were riddled with the many images of Mia and you in various positions and scenarios, each one getting a little more raunchy and promiscuous than the last.

“You know (Y/N)…” her voice cut through your daydream. You looked up and stared into her eyes but that still didn’t stop yourself from slowly unzipping her jacket as you listened closely. The faint sound of the zipper seemed to fill the thick atmosphere.

“Nick is going to see this mess tomorrow morning.” her voice was playful as always.

With the zipper finally reaching its end, her jacket slid off her torso, revealing that same black bra that you were all too familiar with. Your hands wrapped around her, prompting Mia to arch herself towards you and allowing space to unhook the garment. Her own hands ran across your back, tugging at your own bra strap through your button up shirt and quickly unhooking it, letting the sound of the snap reverb throughout the office. It was a simple teasing gesture but it did wonders for your guy’s drive.

As your own fingers fiddled a bit with the hooks on your girlfriend’s bra, your gaze shifted back to her chest and you became distracted by her chest. You so badly wanted to give her one of her boobs a small bite and leave a mark but you had to exercise patience. Besides, you knew well that Mia probably wouldn’t want to show up to the trial with a love bite, visible for all the people in the court to see. 

But…. then again… with a bit of concealer or even a scarf, no one who would notice right?

You swallowed hard, trying not to get too wrapped up in your fantasies and focused on the present. You looked back at Mia grinning, clearly aware of the trance you’ve been put under by her. No amount of words you could say would ever capture how much you adored this woman.

“I’ll clean it up after. Promise.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

At last, her bra became undone. You wasted no time lifting the band up and over her breasts, watching them bounce slightly before they lolled to her sides. Immediately you lowered yourself and sucked on one of them, enjoying Mia’s slight squirming as your tongue circled around her nipple, your teeth ever so carefully grazing the nub. Her stifled moans resonated along with the sounds you made, driving you into an even more horny state.

Maybe it was the fact that you two hadn’t had the time to have a proper date or maybe it was because of how draining being a defense attorney could be, so much so that it wasn’t uncommon for one of you to fall asleep while chatting over the phone. 

Either way, all that pent up energy and drive overtook you both and brought you two into this frenzied state. You then felt one of Mia’s hands run through your hair, gently tugging your head to look up at her. You gave a soft but obvious whine; you wished the foreplay had lasted longer than a few moments but your boss demanded your attention right then and there.

And honestly, when would you ever turn down the chance to look at her pretty face? Her smile never failed to raise your spirits.

“Y/N…” she started. Her hand drifting down to the nape of your neck, her nails subtly scratching you. This time, it was your own back that arched a bit, whimpering as she bought you towards her, inching closer to your ear and whispered:

“It’s getting late don’t you think?”

Not a second later you uttered, “Why are you so damn gorgeous?”, completely ignoring her previous statement, you were so enraptured by her. Mia could only chuckle, finding amusement in her girlfriend’s honesty. It couldn’t be helped; it was the first thing that came to mind as you saw her, not just today but every time you saw the defense attorney. That honesty was something Mia appreciated from time to time.

You shifted a bit, cupping her face and kissing her, lingering there for what felt like a long period of time, enjoying the heat of the moment. Despite her warning you of the time, Mia licked your lips, knowing exactly what she wanted to do next. You opened your mouth, allowing her to invade your space and savor you for every second she could, even if it meant closing the office later than anticipated, even if it meant not following through on her own advice.

At this point, all the papers on the floor seemed irrelevant: the case, your guy’s stress, the bills, closing the building for the night: any worries you had, none of that mattered right now.

Your infatuation with Mia was the only thing that mattered, you two wanted nothing more than to get drunk off one another right now.

_____________________________________________________________

the title was inspired by this song, i felt like it really encompassed the feelings between the two, especially the chorus

for those that don't speak spanish, it's pretty much the same as the english version of this song with tiny changes in the nuances:

"I'll give you my all for one more night

and just so I can feel your body next to mine

I can't keep reliving our song

I'll give it, my all to you, to have your love"

[bloodredx]

Day 4: Hidden

What efforts have been made to look past the veil, cross the boundaries between the known, the unknown, is there a difference in truth? The realm of the Children, how fascinating a byproduct of their creation. For the Beloved do not hold this, unless of course it is due to consorting with the bounds of this form. How deft their wings, to carry them back home, wherever that may be.

No, the Children of course remain in locales far from the concrete and formed of the world, residing in realms of spirituality that form the reflection of who and what they are, were, and always will be. It is no more mutable than they are, the whims of the Precious Living holding next to no influence in such sacred spaces. After all, Water, she will always be Water, unless he is Ice. Such is a place frozen and deep, dark, all in opposition to that which Fire claims. Simple ideas, thou must already be loosely aware if nothing else. The same that Earth and Wind stand opposed, but all four together in their opposites. Only the Twins have to be together, for the Beginning is nothing without the End that defined it. Bizarre in their initial companionship that such spaces are intrinsically connected, and even now with the Beginning long since slain that her realm remains as solid as the day she last stood before this form. Had this form the stamina, it might possess curiosity to stroll amongst the black soil and white skies that have long laid asleep in that space. The End dare not step there either, despite his many visitations there past.

What secrets lie in wait for all the shrines, all left in tethers and tatters to connect the Precious Living to the Children, they know not what lays hidden and sleeping. Despite that some shrines still harbor souls! Regularly too! To be so close and not witness what is before them! And none yet wonder in all their grasping why no shrine to this form is available. Bah. Perhaps one day. Perhaps someone curious enough. Still, the reaching of the Precious Living into the realms they cannot survive, nor really understand will cause undoing in the most wonderful of catastrophes. To strive for a hand in the beyond. It corrupts through and through. Mages, scholars, those both with and without the Vestiges in their blood. The Song must flow. To warp the Notes, why, that is disrespect to the entire piece.

--

Careful. Marie’s head turned to the left as silently as possible. The library was quiet, she was the only one standing in there after all. Her only company; the few motes of dust floating around the damask drapery, the private collection of books old and new, and the silent face of the ancient stone bust of her ancestor. The gem crusted eyes staring in judgement, the amethysts encased within judging. Look at how y’all had fallen. It seemed to whisper, the wrath and disappointment of each of her great grandmothers. She ran a finger along the dark oak shelving, waiting one more moment to ensure the coast was clear before whispering a spell on her fingers as she kissed them quick, placing them swiftly onto the forehead of the bust.

There was a gentle clicking, so soft even Marie could barely hear it, as the narrowest part of the bookshelf began to peel back, swinging open as a door to reveal the secret chamber hidden behind. She floated quickly inside, muffling the air behind her to silence as she closed the passage. Only once everything was still did she finally touch her toes to the floor, whispering pathetically to herself. “Esc’lyr, have some grace on this fool.”

A small stone idol, one of the great goddess of air sat to the side, and she knelt before it in reverence, desperate for the answers she did not possess. Her mind raced with the implications, her second son showing potentials for her family’s gift. According to the text of her foremothers, it could happen that men should hold some notion of their magic, but it was exceedingly rare. Even still, he could be no greater than a hedge mage, a facsimile of the real thing. How cruel. To leave me all ‘lone with this blood an’ leave me with a husband that would sooner kill me if he knew the truth. An’ grant me sons on top of it. Her head stooped low with shame. Of course, she loved her sons. Nathaniel was stolen away from her by his father, already tainted by the rhetoric of his anger. And Mitchell, well, she would gladly trade everything for him. The fact his sneeze sent him near sky-bound was a testament to his miracle nature, and thank the goddess that Sigmund hadn’t seen it. He already was much too rough on the boys, but especially to Mitchell. The boy was soft, a pure heart, but that made him beautiful to his mother. If Sigmund knew this too? She shivered at the thought.

But why now? Why now when she was only a few months off from giving birth to what the doctor had assured her would be a daughter. Her last chance. A tear fell from her eye, rolling along her cheek and past the thick, black curls of hair that had fallen loose over the course of the day. Mitch bein’ that way only makes it complicated. He ain’t able to fill the shoes. The stone effigy of Esc’lyr offered no answers, only sitting back on her carved companion cloud, eyes closed to the suffering of her devoted worshiper. “I just wanted to protect ‘im.” Her voice cracked. “Now he has to know an’ he’ll never be free of this.”

If the goddess knew any truths, she was not inclined to share them. Hiding them deep inside both the echoes of the wind-filled swamps and the lost labyrinths of time. But then again, stone couldn’t speak on the best of days either. Marie stood up, thanking the idol for just listening if nothing else, and turned back to the assembly of tools and charms hidden away behind the walls of the library. Her fingers traced over the collection of carved rune charms, each one glowing a faint purple in response to her touch until she finally landed on the one she wanted. A simple one, a rune she never wanted to part with. Ain’t gotta choice left.

Pulling out a small chisel, she slowly picked away at the wood of its back, until finally the shape of Mitchell’s true name took form. Whispering one last blessing, she kissed it to silence its hum and cease the glow, blending away the newly engraved shapes in one rippling swell. She flipped it over, reading the single shape of the sacred word. Prevail.

(OC-tober challenge by @oc-tober2022 can be found here.)

[kwangya-express]

Dream In A Dream (WayV) - EN

Author: Onyx

Keywords: Ten (Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, NCT-WayV); Max Changmin (Shim Chang-min, TVXQ); Kwangya.

Inspiration: Teaser - Ten (SuperM); Paint Me Naked, New Heroes, Birthday (Ten); Low Low (Ten & YangYang); Truth (TVXQ)

The dust danced through the air, accentuating the desolation that encompassed every inch of the once elegant space. Amidst the wreckage, Ten, one of the 'visionary children,' now grown into an adult with intensely red-dyed hair and adorned in immaculate white garments, advanced with cautious steps. His eyes revealed a mixture of curiosity and nostalgia as he surveyed the chaos surrounding him. It was evident that the environment was unfamiliar to him. Sunflowers of various colors, crushed and devoid of petals, sprawled across the floor; their once vibrant and cheerful hues now accentuated the aura of prevailing sadness.

In the center of the room, a painting hung solitary on the wall, untouched amidst the chaos wrought by the flowers around it. The light wooden frame created a stark contrast against the fabric that veiled it, a blue so deep and radiant that it brought to Ten's mind the reflection of water touched by light. With deliberate, unhurried movements, he pulled away the fabric to reveal what lay hidden beneath: a depiction of a man seated before an expansive mirror reflecting the same image endlessly, capturing the room in which he was situated. The man's face remained obscured, concealed by a black hat and veil; his body exhibited indiscernible designs, and thick chains imprisoned his hands.

A sense of discomfort engulfed Ten as he stared at it, yet he got lost in the depth of the brushstrokes, seeking solace in the beauty crafted by hands long absent. In the midst of this scene, he found a connection to his past and a potential path for the future, recalling that, much like sunflowers always follow the sun's light, they could indicate the way he and his friends could now tread. As he was immersed in his thoughts, he was startled by a shrill and familiar sound. His cellphone vibrated in his pocket, signaling an incoming call. He retrieved the device and saw his friend YangYang's name on the screen. Ten answered, his voice somewhat shaky as he said, "Hello?"

[YangYang]: Where are you?

[Ten]: I'm on my way, just had a little setback.

[YangYang]: I see... How much longer is it gonna take?

[Ten]: Not too long, I just need to wrap up something.

[YangYang]: Oh no, not this again, man? Just give it up already. You don't need to worry, we're using the Dream Lab, Ten. They can't trace us.

[Ten]: I know. But that wasn't the setback.

[YangYang]: Then what is it?

[Ten]: (long pause)

[YangYang]: Hm. What do you know?

[Ten]: Me? Nothing! (brief pause) At least, nothing that would affect you guys.

[YangYang]: (loud laughter) I'm sorry, but we're all tangled up in this mess together. So, it does affect us.

[Ten]: It's not the best time right now. I need to have some certainties first.

[YangYang]: Dude, what's going on with you? We're in the dream world! Nothing is concrete.

[Ten]: Still, I want to pursue it.

[YangYang]: You've got to stop this hero complex. You know we're with you, bro.

[Ten]: (no response)

[YangYang]: Waiting here. Literally.

[Ten]: I know, I know... I'm on my way.

[YangYang]: Don't forget your passport and ID.

[Ten]: Oh...

[YangYang]: Please, don't tell me you lost your documents again.

[Ten]: Alright. I won't tell you.

[YangYang]: Never mind. I'm coming up there.

[Ten]: No! Leave it to me, I'll sort this out. Let's meet up in 10 minutes.

Ten quickly hung up the phone and left the ruined room behind, entering his own creative haven: the art studio. The contrast between the two spaces was striking. The change of environment seemed to release a new spirit within him. The walls were adorned with sketches, unfinished canvases, and a rich palette of colors, forming a visual kaleidoscope that mirrored the artist's mind. Almost magically, his clothes transformed. He now wore a blue beret, black pants, a coat adorned with splattered paint flower patterns, and red sneakers. The studio wasn't just a physical space but also a gateway to his true essence, reflecting a glimpse of his soul.Chaotic...

He rummaged through the disorder with determination, searching for his passport and ID. Amidst the search, his attention was captured by an unfinished painting that stood out. It was his own work, an enigmatic portrait. On the canvas, the figure of a man took shape, dressed in a shimmering black long-sleeved shirt and leather pants. The enigmatic veil was still present, but now it enveloped the figure's entire body, revealing only silhouettes and contours. The developing scene in the painting was that of a moonlit beach, its silver sand peaceful under the night sky. The atmosphere conveyed a blend of melancholy and serenity, as if capturing a moment of deep reflection.

Breaking from his reverie, he continued his search, and among piles of art materials and works in progress, a sigh of relief escaped when he finally found a small notepad, next to a rectangular semitransparent red plaque with a striking "V," the emblem of the Visionary Forces, near a paper mask – his first creation.

With a final gaze at the studio, Ten stepped outside, only to be enveloped once more by a sensation of change. His jeans and sunflower-adorned coat vanished like traces of paint being washed away by water, and in the blink of an eye, he was dressed in a canary yellow suit that radiated a brightness reflecting the vibrant spirit of a blooming sunflower. Ten spotted YangYang, also dressed in a matching full yellow suit that harmonized perfectly with his own. His friend's gaze overflowed with excitement.

"Finally! I thought we were going to miss the trip," YangYang said, as a mutual nod was followed by a knowing smile. They headed out of the building.

"Did you find the documents?" YangYang asked.

"Got everything right here," Ten replied, pulling his passport and identification from his pocket and displaying them for YangYang, who, in turn, retrieved his own ID and inquired, "Did you bring your WayV card?"

"Yeah, I thought it would be wise. At least that way we can avoid more confusion by showing that we're different from the Neo City residents."

"I'm not sure if the higher-ups make, or want to make, that distinction. After all, we're from Neo City too," YangYang reflected.

"Can't hurt to try..." Ten responded, a tone of hope in his voice even as he shrugged uncertainly.

As they walked down the notably deserted street, their plans were interrupted by an entirely unexpected encounter. At the exact moment they crossed paths, Ten experienced an energy that was profoundly distinct from anything he had ever felt before – an energy that evoked the primordial. A man of commanding presence and confident demeanor decisively disrupted their journey, approaching with a certain elegance. His appearance projected an intriguing blend of mystery and resolve. Dressed in a balance between contemporary elegance and classic style, he wore a black overcoat, black shirt, and black trousers. The aura he radiated, like that of a deity from the West, instantly piqued the curiosity of Ten and YangYang. His dark eyes emanated keen intelligence, while a subtle smile danced on his lips as he drew closer.

"I apologize for the intrusion," the man spoke in a polite yet firm tone. "But there's something I'd like to discuss with you." His gaze turned toward Ten. "So, lost child, what have you to say?"

As mutual surprise reflected in the shared gaze between Ten and YangYang, their expressions were an intriguing blend of astonishment and interest. In almost natural synchrony, they halted their steps, allowing the enigmatic man to take the lead and define the new path they would tread. Under the starry gleam that shimmered in the sky, a magical aura seemed to envelop the scene. The journey that followed was unexpectedly brief, culminating in the opening of the first door they encountered at the end of their path.

Upon entering the room, Ten once again underwent a transformation in attire. His canary yellow suit made way for a checkered ensemble with a vibrant pink shirt and a black tie. His once blonde hair adopted a light shade of orange. The next room they found was spacious, filled with an array of blue hues that seemed to stretch infinitely. At the center, a small dark wooden table held a red telephone and two chairs. One of the chairs was the subject of a camera on a tripod pointing at it, indicating it was on, but at the exact moment the mysterious man took the lead, it turned off, revealing a smile on his divine lips.

"Of course, we wouldn't want any unwanted audience for our conversation, now would we?" he announced with a shrewd tone.

Having said that, the man deliberately chose the seat opposite the camera. This choice didn't go unnoticed by Ten, who was uncomfortable with the situation, as everything indicated he was being led into an interrogation. The pressure was evident; he felt that a wrong answer could seal his fate.

"Where's YangYang?" Ten asked, his concern palpable.

"He is safe, but for this conversation, his presence is not necessary," the man reassured. The trust Ten felt, even without knowing him, was strange. The man's aura was so persuasive that it left no room for doubt, and his imposing nature was such that Ten wouldn't dare challenge it.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier," the man said, showing no sign of remorse, releasing a slight smile. "I am Shim Chang-min, to those close, Max, the Rising God," he proclaimed with grandeur.

"... the bearer of dawn, the guardian of renewal, sentinel of Cassiopeia," Ten automatically completed, and a satisfied smile appeared on the god's face.

"I'm pleased to know you've heard of me, Chittaphon," the god said, and Ten shuddered at hearing his true name pronounced. "It makes our conversation more fluid," he added. The revelation that an entity of such magnitude had knowledge of him didn't put Ten at ease.

"What would you like to know?" Ten asked, revealing his unease. "I don't think I have any interesting information for someone of high position like you."

"Me? About you? Nothing. Nothing of particular importance, really. Just... Explain yourself," Chang-min replied.

"Could you repeat that? I think I misunderstood," Ten asked.

"Ex-plain your-self! Is it clearer now?" Chang-min answered emphatically.

"Why? And where's Xiao Yang? (sheep)," Ten inquired.

"Because it was you who invaded my domain, and today I'm in a good mood, so I'm giving you this chance," Chang-min responded seriously. "As for your friend, unfortunately for him, he was linked to you, but it was you who connected with my domain and left the door open."

"No, sir. I assure you I didn't invade anything," Ten hastened to say.

"Words of mortals hardly convince me, Chittaphon," Chang-min replied. "By the way, be careful with that nickname. There are certain beings who wouldn't react well to hearing it."

"I'm sorry, sir, Chang-min, right?" Ten spoke hesitantly, choosing his words carefully as if weighing each sentence. "We are in the Dream, using the Dream Lab..."

At this moment, Changmin let out a loud laugh, interrupting Ten's words. "You're astute, so tell me, do you really believe you're still in the dream world?" Ten shook his head dispiritedly, denying it.

"Something must have happened," Ten murmured, searching his mind, rifling through his memories for what happened before he entered Neo City. "We tried to synchronize again all together, the mission was vital. We received a signal from others like us, lost in the Dream. Taeyong assured us there would be no more failures this time. My leader, Kun, had no choice." He reflected aloud but realizing he had revealed more than intended, his eyes widened, and concern settled in.

Changmin remained silent for a moment, seemingly pondering Ten's words. The West God arched an eyebrow. "I knew a conversation with you would bear fruit," he said with an enigmatic smile. "You're lucky. If it were my brother, the situation would be quite different."

"Thank you?" Ten replied uncertainly in his voice.

"It's amazing to think that there was a time when I still cared about you lost children," Changmin muttered, his voice laden with gravity. "But let's get straight to the point: you children are irreparable errors of the Cosmos, and now I see how powerful you're becoming. Neo City should have never existed." Ten had already imagined this, but hearing it directly from a god made it even more distressing. "The gap between humanity and the Cosmos is shrinking," Changmin continued.

"Theoretically, it's not our fault," Ten tried to defend.

"But the Dream Lab is," Changmin emphasized. "You're creating an opening in the veil that protects Kwangya."

"But we navigate through the Dream," Ten protested.

"It's not that simple. How do you think you arrived in my domain? Or better yet, what explains the inexplicable connections all of you have?" Changmin rose from the chair, emanating total irritation. "Kangta was merciful in allowing the construction of the carriage for you. Otherwise, none of your journeys would be so easily accessible, and the price for staying here would be higher."

"You said 'price,' what do you mean?" Ten sighed, delving into the depths of his thoughts.

Changmin observed for a moment, his dark eyes scrutinizing every expression on his face. "At first? Your memories," the entity replied. "But don't fool yourself, losing your memories means losing your individuality, and losing that in here is a fate worse than death. You would be led to eternal madness, a mind empty and without control. And you humans are the most susceptible. That's why you're our biggest problems," Changmin concluded, his words heavy with gravity. "Even for us, inhabitants of the Cosmos, we can't handle it so well. Just look at what happens to the children of the Mother Tree."

Ten nodded, recognizing the truth in Changmin's words. The complexity and risks involved in their forays into the Dream were becoming increasingly evident. Sitting back in the chair, the Rising God continued, "You have no idea what you're tampering with. The Ether offers endless possibilities, but the fragile human mind could easily get lost in them. Whether it's the carriage or the plane, they shield your minds from collapsing. Your minds are left vulnerable, something easily manipulable. Moreover, the abundant flow of Ether could shatter your minds, which is why our esteemed general created this device to protect you. However, you can't always rely on this protection. Hence, the loss of memories," his tone was taking on a darker nuance. Their gazes met, a silent understanding passing between them. "Why are you telling me all this?" Ten asked.

"It would be imprudent of me not to explain at least the basics before recruiting you, don't you think? Usually, it's my brother who takes care of this sort of thing, but this time you'll be working directly for me," the deity said, a smile dancing on his lips.

"Recruiting?" Ten repeated, seeking clarity.

"Yes, I can't lead you the way you are now. You presented me with a big problem to solve. And since I'm in a good mood today, I'll decide to give you a chance," Changmin commented.

"A chance to save Kwangya?" Ten speculated.

"Oh no, I don't care that much about that. The real issue is that you opened the door to my domain and don't know how to close it. And until that's resolved, you'll be under my command."

Ten realized he had no choice, no power or influence there. He looked at Changmin with frankness, his expression serious. "I accept," he declared. A satisfied smile curved the entity's lips.

"I, Shim Changmin, the Rising God, declare that the group known as WayV is now part of my subordinates," Changmin proclaimed firmly. A stream of something akin to water began to flow before Ten's eyes, intertwining his hands like chains, meeting the palm of the god's hand. "The pact is sealed," he said.

Ten sat stunned in the chair, overcome by profound dread. "I can't decide for my group," Ten rushed to emphasize. The words spoken echoed in his mind as he tried to process what had just happened. WayV's fate was now intertwined with a god of Kwangya.

"You fooled me," Ten retorted.

"I would never do that. It was you who didn't pay attention to my words," Changmin replied. 

"You share the same individuality, that's how it works here. The fate of one affects all," he explained. Ten felt a wave of terror for what he had just committed to, as the understanding of the complexity of the situation deepened.

"Will I remember this conversation later?" Ten asked dispiritedly.

"Maybe. Who knows. I'm not the one who controls the Nexus," Changmin jeered.

As Ten's thoughts plunged into shadows, an unexpected sound cut through the air. A red telephone began to ring, emitting a piercing tone that echoed through the space around them. Changmin looked surprised at the phone and, with a quick gesture, answered the call.

The voice on the other end of the line wasn't audible to Ten, but the expression on the god's face changed drastically. His brows furrowed, and his gaze turned serious. He listened attentively, occasionally nodding or asking short questions. He was engrossed in the call, but he quickly covered one side to avoid being heard. Instead of speaking aloud, his lips moved, saying, "We'll talk another time," and he gestured for Ten to leave.

Something strange began happening around Ten. The colors and shapes around him seemed to distort and blur, as if reality was dissolving. He felt a whirlwind of sensations, as if he was being sucked into a vortex.

Ten blinked, confused and slightly disoriented. He was back in what he believed to be reality. He rose from the bed, rubbing his eyes as if trying to dispel the haze that lingered in his mind. He approached the window, and as he looked outside, it was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes. The city before him was a futuristic metropolis filled with gleaming skyscrapers, neon lights, and flying vehicles cutting through the sky. The landscape seemed straight out of a sci-fi movie.

"Damn it," Ten cursed.

Realizing he was in Neo City, Ten grew even more bewildered. He looked around, taking in the sight. The truth finally clicked: He had been in a dream within a dream. All of this had been part of a dream lived within a world he still didn't fully understand. And now, waking up in Neo City, Ten was facing this truth. The idea that the Dream Lab could have been breached and that he had been dragged into this situation was unsettling. The blend of dreams and reality felt almost surreal, and he found himself questioning what was true and what was imagined.

[caxycreations]

Tylvinian Tales: Side Stories - A Display of Power

Kaleb prided himself on his self control, on his lack of emotion. On his objectivity. But even he had a limit. Even he had something to care about.

When he heard that one of his businesses had been not only robbed, but completely demolished by Devon's operations, he felt his blood boil for the first time. When he heard that Devon had struck down four of his managers under the guise of common muggings, he felt it bubble over.

And Kaleb realized something about himself that day.

He preferred to handle things himself.

Having ordered Bruce to go home for the day, Kaleb had simply walked to Devon's compound.

Four gaurds at the front gate, armed with shotguns. Kaleb didn't care. He kept a calm, steady pace, and with a lash of his tail the four lay dead on the ground. They'd barely had time to demand he stop. His eyes were focused straight ahead, and his expression remained neutral.

Past the front gate, more men wandered about the building. Each one lay dead as Kaleb passed, his tail a blur with each rapid lash at whichever throat dared come close enough.

Floors, walls, hallways, soon stained crimson and littered with bodies as Kaleb calmly made his way through the compound until he found himself staring at the doors to Devon's lair. His den. Taking a breath, Kaleb stepped to the side and hit the door, hard, forcing it wide open. A gunshot echoed in the air, the bullet whizzing past into open space before Kaleb stepped back into the doorway, walking through. He could see the mans lips moving. He could hear the mumble of words. He knew he was being spoken to. He didn't care. He wouldn't listen.

Another gunshot collided with his chest, crumpling and burrowing into the thick kevlar weave of his suit, his scales absorbing the remaining impact damage. It would bruise, and the bullet may have even cut into him, but he knew he would live. Devon was panicking now, scrambling back as Kaleb calmly approached.

As the last of the distance closed between them, he reached out with lightning speed, grabbing the mob boss by the throat and lifting him into the air. Shots rang out, bullets colliding with Kaleb's chest and stomach as he squeezed against the opossum's veins. He could feel the pulse of blood beneath his fingers, and how hard it was struggling to push through his grip. Finally, he began to speak, voice calm and clear, without a hint of emotion.

"Attack me. Hire assassins. Get me killed. Arrested. You may do anything you wish to me."

His throat ached. He hadn't had anything to drink in hours, and speaking was beginning to hurt quite a lot.

"But you will not-"

He tightened his grip, watching as the gun fell to the ground and Devon clawed at his hand, leaving deep gashes in it.

"-target my businesses, or my employees. I have been kind to allow you to continue to operate in my city. I have been merciful to allow your continued life here. I am done being kind. I am done being merciful."

He let go of Devon, his victim's words once again drowned out by Kaleb's anger as he wrapped his tail around the now-cowering opossum's neck.

"You will not touch my business again. You will not so much as cough in their direction. You will do as I say. You will be under my watch from now on. This is your absolute final chance, Devon. If you so much as look at me the wrong way, you'll find yourself as lifeless as everyone else in this slum."

His tail unwrapped, and he turned away, making his way to the door. As he did, he heard the familiar click of a gun, and his tail moved with blinding speed, slapping the bullet away just before it could make contact.

"Devon, let me remind you that you would stand no chance against those petulant fools in the Veil."

"SO WHAT? I CAN STILL TAKE-"

"And let me remind you..."

Kaleb dug one of the bullets out of his suit, looking at the crumpled metal before flicking it behind him, lashing at it with his tail and sending it flying straight into Devon's leg, tearing through fabric and flesh.

"They lost to me."

[ddarker-dreams]

Contractual Obligations II. Yan Childe x Reader

Warnings: Unwanted physical contact, general yandere themes. Word count: 2.2k. →Part I. 

The sound of heavy, wooden doors shutting behind you feels like a premonition of what is to come. 

Fiddling with your skirt, your eyes dart around, taking in Liyue’s signature rich architecture. Fatui building or not, they still must abide by Liyue’s aesthetic. You thought being surrounded by your home’s design would bring solace. Warm shades of mahogany with gold motifs are illuminated by paper lanterns, giving a glow that would be otherwise pleasant, if not for the circumstances. 

You had anticipated a long wait. Ekaterina, upon hearing your name, informed that you would be seen without delay. The others in the lobby of Northland Bank grumbled at this, much to your embarrassment. It’s no secret that getting appointments here is a time-consuming endeavor. Sailors, business owners, and Qixing’s personal assistants alike had to wait. 

For whatever reason, you were allowed to skip ahead of the queue. The glaring special treatment is bound to spread rumors. Now, here you stand, unable to quell your nerves. This is no different than strolling into a ravenous lion’s den. The vulnerability you feel now makes you wish you were facing a carnivorous beast, at least then you might have hope to defend yourself. 

Even with the unexpected privilege of not waiting in the lobby, you’ve been standing here in this private room for a while now. Thirty minutes is your guess, impatience creeping up on you. Your shoulders slump, a sigh leaving your lips. There’s lots of work to be done when you’re done here, time a precious resource. Wasting it to get answers from the blight on your life is infuriating. 

Figures, the one time you need to speak with Childe, he’s nowhere to be seen. Every other time he’d show up at the least opportune moments. He has a habit of appearing uninvited and ruining what would’ve been a pleasant day. Lost in thought, you consider all that must be done when you return to your parent’s shop, too occupied with your thoughts to notice a looming figure. Two hands go out to cover your eyes, the world suddenly going dark. Heart pounding against your chest, the touch is too unexpected, heat rising in your body as protection.

“Guess who?” Childe hums into your ear with a singsong tone. His scent reminds you of the ocean, fresh and light. 

You frown, noticing how close he is to you, his chest pressed against your back. Does Childe not know what personal space is? “The source of my problems.” 

He lets out a scandalized gasp and slinks in front of you. Childe boasts a lighthearted demeanor, mirth dancing in his eyes, and a tight-lipped smile on his face. Inauthentic as ever, you note. You’ve seen what lays dormant behind the thin veil of boyish charm. The infinite darkness that you never wish to see again. He’s still closer to your person than you’d prefer, but pointing it out won’t do any good, so you decide to overlook it. Picking your battles wisely is vital when speaking with Childe.

“Is that the greeting I get, after rushing all the way here?” Childe sighs. Before you could respond, you notice a new scent in the air, unmistakably leather. It takes you a moment to identify the source. A thin, wispy trail of smoke rises from Childe’s leather gloves that had been touching you just prior. Does that not hurt? Childe catches you staring and laughs. 

“So you didn’t notice,” Childe sounds amused, lifting his hands to inspect them. Raising his hands to his mouth, he bites the tip of his gloves and pulls them off. “Looks like I caught you.” 

He nods to your necklace which is tucked beneath your blouse, scarlet light shining through the fabric. Instinctually, you cover it with your hand, the jewel warm to the touch. Childe’s abrupt physical touch had activated your Vision. It’s only when you take a few deep breaths that the telling glow fades away, but the damage is already done. Did he plan this on purpose? Whatever the case may be, Childe is the last person you want having this information.

Sensing your apprehension, he speaks up. “Relax, I already assumed as much, but my interest is undeniably piqued. Why hide your Vision? This isn’t Inazuma, I was under the impression Visions were revered in Liyue.” 

You don’t owe Childe an explanation, but your intuition tells you he’s not going to let this go anytime soon. This isn’t what you came here for, you remind yourself. Don’t let him distract you.

“It’s a long story,” comes your dismissive answer, glancing around to see if anyone else had seen, even though it’s only you two in here. “Can I talk about what I came here for, please?” 

Childe closes his eyes, humming while considering your proposition. Instead of walking behind the desk in the room, he sits on a bench against the wall, motioning for you to come over. At your blatant hesitation, he decides to pester you, which doesn’t come as a shock. 

“What’s up with that look? There’s plenty of room,” Childe pats the spot next to him for extra emphasis. A dangerous twinkle shines in his eyes with a mischievous smile to match it. “Though, I wouldn’t complain should you come to sit on my lap instead.” 

Your cheeks flush brightly, a weak glare being sent his way which he laughs at. “I would never…” 

“Sure, sure. Come over already, it’s the least you could do, considering you just scorched a pair of my favorite gloves.” Childe’s carefree tone doesn’t match his scolding words, stretching out his arm on the back of where you were supposed to sit. Gingerly stepping over the smoking gloves on the floor, you wonder if it’s somehow a fire hazard, but assume Childe’s Hydro Vision could put it out if need be. You stop just short of sitting down, gnawing on your bottom lip at this new internal dilemma. Glaring daggers at his outstretched arm doesn’t seem to faze him. 

“The offer still stands.” He teases, leading you to huff and take your seat by him. You try to ignore the close physical proximity, but it’s rather difficult, as your thighs are touching. Is this a common theme for Snezhnayans? Why is Childe so needlessly touchy? Maybe you don’t want to know. Childe drums his fingers, staring at you with dangerous intent. 

You’ve wasted enough time here. Hoping to move on to the pressing issue, your lips part without further delay. “So, as I was--”

Childe places a finger to your lips, in an act that leaves you speechless. What is his problem? Furrowing your eyebrows together, you have half a mind to scorch the finger in front of you, but dismiss the thought when remembering his strength. Damn him for getting you riled up with such ease. 

“Uh uh uh,” Childe chastises with a shake of his head. “Not yet. Business can come later. First, you’re going to tell me about that.” 

You don’t need to look down to see he’s pointing at your hidden necklace. “It’s... personal. I have no reason to tell you.” 

“Oh, sweet [First]. I wasn’t asking. You did just burn my gloves, didn’t you? Instead of charging you Mora, which -- no offense -- you don’t have enough of to replace it, I want an explanation. I think that’s a fair deal.” 

So he is going to hold that mishap over you. Messing around with a debt collector and money seems counterintuitive, giving a quick explanation the plausible option. Whatever it takes to get him to drop the sensitive topic. Childe must have a semblance of tact to have made it this far in life after all. 

“Fine, fine. It’s not really that remarkable a reason. I have a younger sister, Chunghua. We used to be inseparable as kids. More than anything, I just wanted her to be happy. You’d do anything to accomplish that, y’know? It was… all my fault, really. She wanted a Vision like mine more than anything -- hair accessories, Mora, pretty outfits -- she never cared for that. 

I had no idea why I was given a Vision and not her. She was the one who prayed to every Archon at night for it, the one who burnt incense and gave offerings, not me. I could see her gradually losing hope every day that she woke up without one, like a piece of her was breaking off. At meals, she’d just… stare, silently, at the Vision around my neck. I don’t blame her for starting to hate me. I didn’t notice until it was too late.”

Taking a deep breath, your eyes fall to your lap. “I only wanted to cheer her up. To see her smile like she used to. When I first got my Vision, Chunghua would ask me to do these little tricks. Forming animals or whatever, stuff kids like. Anyways… I tried doing it again one morning. Needless to say, it didn’t go well, she practically screeched at me. I had no idea that was how she felt. But, yeah. That’s why I hide my Vision. See, not that interesting, right?” 

Childe’s expression feels impossible to read. You’re not sure why you even shared so much, especially with him, but his lack of interruption made you keep going. Maybe you weren’t expecting him to sit perfectly still and listen to every word. Whatever the case, you clear your throat, desperate to clear the gloomy atmosphere. 

“She would’ve reacted the same eventually,” Childe says after a moment of deliberation. You tilt your head, the serious answer was unexpected. “That’s what I think, though only older siblings could understand.”

There’s a brief tenderness in his words that leaves you speechless. If he’s acting, you have to commend his abilities, because right now it almost feels like he’s being genuine. Playing with a strand of your hair, you look past him and clear your throat.

“Yes, well, I suppose you’re right.” 

Childe’s somber appearance twists into a more impish visage. “Why don’t I give Chunghua a talking to? It’s a shame seeing your cute face so sullen.” 

Mortified, you shake your head. “There’s no need for that.” 

“Hmm… a shame. I could really take care of everything if you just let me.” 

“Somehow I doubt that,” you shrug with a frown. “What you could help me with is this ridiculous situation at the shop! Why are there Fatui guards outside the front doors? It’s scaring away customers.” 

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” 

Unbelievable. Childe continues to test your patience at every turn. After your previous conversation outside Liyue, which you’re still hoping was a bad joke, you’d noticed an increased presence of Fatui around the shopping district. That was bad enough for business. Now that they’re stationed right outside your parent’s shop, it’s far worse. Rumors have begun to circulate that you’re somehow involved with the Fatui. This has Childe’s doing written all over it.

“Why else would I be here?” 

He smiles and you immediately regret the rhetorical question. “Because you missed me, of course.” 

“I missed when there weren’t Fatui around the shop. Please, I don’t know what you did, but it’s going to be harder to get money for...” you gulp as if saying it cements the reality of your situation, but power through. “Paying off the loan with this drop in revenue.”

“Tempting as that is, I’m already happy with the results. I got you to come to me and learned more about you. From my position, this is a sizeable gain.” 

Everything from your head to your toes feels hot as if molten lava is stirring inside. He’s not taking you seriously, like the time at the stream and all the times before that. Memories flash in your mind. Your father hunched over letters containing bills, frowning, hair going greyer by the day. Your mother, sneaking out when she thinks you and your sister are asleep to pawn off her old jewelry. Even Chunghua, who offered to take time away from her education to help at the shop. It hits you like a pile of bricks, heart twisting painfully and tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“What do I have to do,” Your voice is so low that Childe has to careen his head to hear it. He blinks, incredulous, waiting for further clarification. Each breath you take feels like a losing battle, your composure threatening to shatter. “For you to stop… whatever this is. I’ll do anything. Give anything. Please, just leave my family out of it.” 

Childe crosses his legs and leans in closer to you, arm secured tight around your shoulder.

“Didn’t I tell you already?” 

His breath is warm against you, lips ghosting over the skin of your neck. He presses his lips softly against your pulse. Smiling, he notices how it quickens underneath his touch, all too pleased with your physical reactions. 

“That what I want to take is you.” 

[jjungkooksthighs]

Claws of Carnality | jjk (2)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf,  fantasy

Rating: 18+ / nsfw

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: mentions of violence (hunting), mentions of sex this chapter is really tame but it’s set up so yeah

Summary: In the aftermath of your presentation, you recollect on some the dreams that had been visited by the alpha you have met to meet. What happens when he makes good on his promise and finds you?

A/N: OKAY SO I REALLY FEEL LIKE THIS SUCKS, BUT HEY, THIS GIF APPLIES TO THIS CHAPTER IF YOU SQUINT! Let me know if you guys like this and I will write more. If not, I can always just leave this where it is (which is fine, but alpha koo is so cool to write omg)

part 1  part 3  part 4  part 5  part 6  part 7 part 8 part 9

By the time that you’ve finished scrubbing away the evidence signaling your growth into maturity, the soiled sheets containing such proof had been stripped from your bed to be replaced with new, freshly laundered ones. To keep the essence of you there would firstly be unsanitary, but it was also a means of caution put in place to keep unwanted alphas from attempting to lay their claim on an unmated omega before one could be presented to all the available potential candidates. Part of you wonders if your alpha had caught your scent in all the bustle that surely was going on, for you surely had caught his even if you didn’t know what he looked like even what his name was.

 Dark hair colored like the earth’s floor surfaces through your mind as you peer down at the article of clothing your grandmother must have laid out for you while you’d been bathing, a wave of excitement falling over you as you quickly set about putting it on. You fasten it with practiced ease after many years of helping your own omegean friends into their own unique pre-ceremonial dress.

  It is a custom of your pack that, on the eve of the Offering Ceremony, newly presented omegas wear clothing that pays respect to the moon that guides the shifting, hunting and gathering of the wolves while also paying homage to the celestial system that, in the ancient legends, would selectively steer the most compatible of hearts towards one another in the tales of soulmates that would lead their pack into prosperity for generations to come.

 It was said that the truest of a pair would complete each other in body and mind, their wolves complementing each other like the yin and yang of peace that was so desired amongst your kind.

 As you pull your arms through the black lace that covers a fine silk of the same color, you can’t help but to notice the way the underlying material shimmers in the sunny light that glints off it in the small constellation of silvery spritzes to the silk that mirror the stars that, in the dark color of the body of the dress, perfectly recaptures the night sky. In the modestly cut ‘V’ style of the bodice, the trim on each side eventually intersects where the skirt begins and is colored a rich chrome color after the moon.

  It matches with the thin band that crosses horizontally over your stomach to hold the bodice closed. Below that, your skirt is fitted just enough that it doesn’t hug your skin, but it is open enough to let air trail between your legs as it stops just along the underside of your knees. You make sure to tie a thick matching silk choker over your neck to nearly cover it in its entirety in effort to complete your ensemble, for it is another custom that newly presented omegas must partake in that you have to obey.

 Such was put in place to lessen the temptation of alphas to try to scent an omega, for the show of skin in such an intimate place for wolves that were unmarked was a declaration of intent. To walk around without such a covering was dangerous, for it often would ensue fights between alphas and betas over the omega that had been unheedful of such consequences.

 You did not want to be involved in attention like that, for you had always been a quiet, shy presence throughout your years on the compound. What your heart did long for, however, was to find its equal and thus to bask in the notice of he who had visited you in your fantasy, of he who had promised to find you. You truthfully had no idea who he was, but he was no stranger to your dreams. Well, he hadn’t been since the eclipse, anyway.

 The first time you’d seen him, he’d been laying on his back while staring at the stars you enjoyed connecting the constellations of within the middle of a forest clearing, the silvery moonlight illuminating him in an ethereal light that had him glowing in radiance.

 You’d been tentative to encroach on him and, in your timidity, had tried sinking back into the shadows only to snap a twig under your feet. He’d sat up quicker than lightning, his muscles tensed and ready to pounce as brilliant golden irises darted to the source of the sound only to pierce your own as you’d sucked in a breath at how deep and beautiful his eyes were despite how profoundly they dug interestedly into your own, effectively halting you were you stood as he rose from his place on the forest floor.

 Your legs had been rooted in place under his commanding gaze and he’d cocked his head to the side like the wolf he was while he’d appraised you, your heart racing as you watched his brows knit together in confusion the picture of his ideal mate paired with the concoction of smells that coalesced into something that was uniquely your own yet had him drawn like a magnet in how deliciously your aroma swirled under his nostrils, his own pulse quickening as he instinctively lowered his head as you tilted yours back in silent submission that pulled at every fiber of your being in the presence of such a strong, handsome alpha.

 It had been instant. His eyes widened when he’d daringly nudged at exposed your scent gland, his irises growing in size at the poignantly tempting aroma of you that clung salaciously to his lungs and very being. In turn, you gasped when the strong headiness of him insistently prodded at you until you were overtaken by its delicious amalgamation of smells, your muscles relaxing at the same time his did a turn of events that you did not understand for you believed it was all just a dream.

 The second time you’d seen him, he’d found you next to a steady, crystalline stream with the moon as your light source and upon offering you his hand with some coaxing, he had led you through a field of flowers colored after every hue in the rainbow as he told you how you’d enchanted him with your beauty and scent that had so begun to saturate his every thought, his adulations rapidly bolstering your confidence in the sureness with which he declared them.

 The third time, he’d followed you to a creek and had watched you dip your feet into the cool water that was such a balm to the hot air of the night only to step further into the body of water and be embraced by it still clothed in the dress that made you shine brighter than the moon in his eyes. It was you who had eventually asked him to join you after reddened cheeks and stuttered breaths upon realizing he’d been looking at nothing but you the entire time with brightened, enlarged irises.

 Somehow, his competitive nature had stoked your playful side and before long, you were splashing each other with water and laughing heartily until your foot had caught on a sharp rock and you’d yelped in pain. Concern had been quick to shift his expression, not that you could that under the mop of hair that had veiled the upper part of his face, but you could hear the emotion in his voice as he reassured you that it would be okay before, to your surprise, he’d wrapped one arm around your back and another under your legs to carry you like some kind of bride before you setting you down on a rock to rip at the edge of his shirt in a show of strength that had your insides turning to mush as he promptly wrapped it around your foot while asking if you were alright and if you were in pain.

 An irrational need to clear the worry away from him filled you and before you’d let yourself think about it, you’d laid your hand over his to thank him, not thinking too much on the way his skin was so hot to the touch. As if your words were the medicine he needed, the emotion drained away while you both had stared at each other. You hadn’t realized you’d been leaning forward until you nearly collapsed on top of him, lost as you had been in those expressive eyes of his.

 The fourth time, you’d been incapable of resisting his call of howls only to find him thrashing in a cave growling for you. It was as if someone was hurting him from the inside in the pitch of his sounds, but you didn’t have any idea what to do. His shirt had been torn all over and in the dim light that reached into the cave, you thought you could make out the etchings of the extensive muscles that lined his chest, your mouth watering at the sight and yet you’d blamed on being in need of water in your inexperience to know what your body was doing.

 You had stayed by his side regardless to bring him water and edible plants that you’d gathered in his lack of exiting the confined space, fondness for him swelling within you in your want to take away whatever pain was wracking him. You’d not been aware of what he wanted and the fact that neither of you had exchanged names made it difficult to console him since you were simply the girl from his dreams to him (or so you thought).

 The fifth time, it had been you who had been sequestered to a grassy, woody den in the forest. Your body had quivered with need for something that you had yet to ascertain, but your companion had stayed true to you just as you had to him. Compassion shined in those golden irises as you’d wailed, your arms crossing over your stomach as you rolled back and forth irrationally in the tremors that violently shook your body. When you’d needed new foliage to lay on, he’d gotten it for you. When you’d wanted the cool creek water to be poured over your burning skin, he’d done that, too.

 And when you’d asked for some meat to eat, it had taken all but five minutes for him to secure five rabbits that you ate the majority of in your insatiable hunger that only seemed to stretch on the more that you drank him in.

 All had preceded the fantasy you’d had last night and you try to piece them together in what they could possibly mean as you grab what your thin arms can carry between pillar candles and tea-lights. You don’t stop stuffing them between your arms until you’re sure you can’t possibly carry any more, and every omega that passes by the storage closet in the omegean den where you currently are makes sure to congratulate as they pass much to the reddening of your cheeks at some overly obscene remarks of what is likely to come. It’s all so new and thrilling to you.

 You’re honestly a little surprised that they all already know that you’d woken to the taint of your essence lathered all over you, but such is the way of things in that news spreads like wildfire amidst the close comraderies of omegas.

 It should make you feel uncomfortable, but such monumental events are looked at as blessings amongst your pack and in the bustle of energy that the sudden ceremony has sparked in everyone, you can only feel the excited surges of anticipation as you and you alone begin to set about the preparations for the event at the break of dawn since you’d been the final omega in your rank and age group to present.

 Through it all, you never lose the subtle trail of him, his scent lingering just enough for you to find yourself trying to move toward its origin, but never thick enough to pinpoint him completely despite your wolf urging you to continually to go to him, to find him.

 You wonder what your alpha could be doing right now and what he might be thinking as you make your way through the green grasses that open up to frame the circular wooden stage that is overlooked by the timbered den of the elders. It is an impressive structure in how very imposing and tall it stands and the stage itself is longer, you are sure, than five meters across and back.

 There are already stone braziers set strategically next to the stage that are used for annual selections for unbonded pairs of wolves and initiations of pups, but you can’t deny your favorite use for it would be the dance performances that are put on to celebrate each event.

 Amongst the alphas in your pack, Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok and Kim Taehyung are among the three bachelors that woo all of the omegas and betas in the compound with the calculated ways they move their bodies that successfully has everyone, even you, swooning.

 However, can’t say they hold a candle to the one alpha, in particular, that some believe to be an apparition in how little he is seen despite the fact that every time you catch his shadow, he’s always stolen away your breath and ability to think straight. The way that this alpha moves, in specific, demands your attention in how expressively calculated he is in his artistic movements that combine modern and old dance into a style that is completely his own.

 You have only seen him perform twice, but by the moon above, you would never forget it. Each time, you swear his golden irises have shot through the whole crowd of screaming women and even men straight into you only to sink deliciously into you as he dances. It has set your blood alight each time, your pulse quickening in exhilaration at the prospect of that he may have noticed you.

 You had noticed him first for this and, hungrily wanting to learn more about the enigmatic figure that could disappear without a trace for months on end without being seen or heard from, you had come to find out through utterances of longing by many omegeans that he was the pack alpha’s son, which made him next in line for assuming control over the entire compound.

 You had also come to discover that, among his looks that were crafted by the gods, he came from a pedigree only of purebreds. This meant that he was one among the seven alphas- including the three bachelors already fawned over amongst the compound-in your pack that were gifted with bolstered speed, strength and abilities of which the majority of alphas today did not possess. Such made them extremely desirable to many of the omegas and betas, but for the life of you, you couldn’t see how they were any different from a regular alpha.

 As you set out the tealights along the edges of the stage, you can’t help but to ponder why the alpha that had anchored himself to your thoughts long before your dreams is coming to your mind now and it’s when you’ve placed a pillar candle from under your arm onto the mounted holder, that’s when your thoughts are halted.

 In the distance, you can discern the pervasively pungent stench of alphas and that’s when your eyes widen. You had forgotten that because of the Offering Ceremony, it was tradition for alphas to go on a hunt at the crack of dawn in effort to make a show of their prowess and ability to provide. This was done in effort to please or attract potential mates in the kills they would secure and gift to their selected omega or beta. You chastise yourself for taking too long, for an unmated omega was not supposed to be in the vicinity of an unbonded alpha due to the pheromones that could cause a premature heat. Your body is unstable right and now and that’s why-

 Amongst the flurry of odors that pervade your sensitive nose, there is one that you pick up on, one that wafts deliciously like fresh cookies under your nostrils and around you before caressing your skin with the gentle wind that carries it to you. It is gently insistent in the way it encourages you to turn, to move. You’ve smelled this scent before, you know that you have.

 Distantly, in the back of your mind, something tries to poke at your consciousness, but you pay it no mind as you try to complete your task futilely as the aroma whisks itself over you like whipped cream as it inches closer and closer, the soft crunching sound of grass underneath feet growing louder as it does.

 You try to take deep breaths and regulate the shallow rise and fall of your chest that is not aided by the hope that twists heavily in your gut and when you clumsily try to make it appear as if you’re doing something constructive, you manage to knock the white pillar candle off of its place so that it lands on the ground with a thud.

 Without thinking, you turn only to for you to hitch your breath as the solid planes of a golden and salaciously chiseled chest take up your vision. Your mouth goes dry when your irises dip downward at how obscenely low his ebony shirt dips with one side crossed over the other in a style that isn’t entirely different from the bodice you now wear save for the fact that it is a darker shade of black and is held together by a thicker band that circles a slim, hourglass shaped waist.

 The lapels of his garment fold over each other and are accentuated by the charcoal colored pelt that lines his shoulders and trail lengthily down his body to cease around calves covered by dark black trousers that hug his corded thighs lewdly and you have to shut your mouth to stifle the sound of appreciation your body had traitorously wanted to release. If you had spit, you probably would lick your lips, but you don’t. Instead, you settle for trying to swallow the sudden lump in your throat, which is also non-yielding of the result you’d wanted. 

 “You know, I heard you omegas weren’t supposed to be near us big, bad alphas so soon,” he rumbles amusedly as your heart stutters at the familiar voice, “So, what are you doing out here all alone, pretty?”

 You gulp animatedly, your irises refusing to move from the canvas of his chest because you know where you’ve heard that voice before, you realize as your skin pebbles in response to the same deep voice that drips deliciously atop it as your wolf cries for you to answer, to submit.

 “I-I… I was setting up for the c-ceremony, that’s all.” You stutter as the alpha in front of you chuckles, the sound making your blood sing in response to the melodious sound as his golden irises inspect your familiar features, surety setting in for him that you really are her, the girl from his dream.

 “Ah, so you are.” He muses as he cocks his head interestedly at you.

 He had chosen to lead the alphas to a different hunting location today because he believed a new area would be a rich hunting ground, but he’d also come this way for another reason. As a purebred alpha, his nose was far better than any average alpha. Therefore, despite the clothes that you wear of which the threads of your dress have been dipped into oils that mask your own potent pheromones he knows to be on overdrive since your presentation, they are still ineffective in putting off his strong nostrils in how easy it had been to detect and find you like he’d wanted to.

 His lips curl up when you fidget in a way exactly like she had, your hands clasping nervously together along your front and he’s struck with the irrational want to have you feel less distressed in his presence, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable around him.

 The more pressing thing though is to look upon those eyes of yours that he’s been so bewitched by, for he hasn’t yet looked up those entrancing irises that had belonged to her and has to make sure, his wolf clawing at him now to find out as his deep voice fills the space between you, your own wolf preening under the attention as he says, “Come now, pretty omega, won’t you look at me? I won’t bite.”

 With way that his velvety voice envelops you, you really can’t bring yourself to do anything but obey as your slowly trail your gaze along his Adam’s apple that is so defined it makes you want to salivate before continuing your ascent up to perfectly plump, soft lips crafted by the stars themselves. Those same lips had done so much to you in your dreams and images of it flash through your mind as you take a shaky breath that he mirrors in the anticipation that is nearly palpable in how heavy it settles over you both. When you finally settle your gaze on those golden irises that had taken up such a permanent residence in your thoughts, that’s when he utters, “Well, would you look at that...I always knew it would be you, but I never would’ve thought this would happen.”

 At the same time that you had peered into his eyes while he gazed curiously at you, your irises had changed from the silver of the moon he had always been bewildered by to the gold of the sun like his own. In the exact moment, you’d witnessed his own do the same, his eyes changing to the color of your own.

Jungkook has always taken pride in his abilities as a purebred. They’d never steered him wrong before and they hadn’t now, either. It is why he hadn’t doubted the magnetizing pull that had brought him here as encouraged by his nose that could track anything. It is also why his very being is colored with entertainment at your cute reaction that he’d had some inkling of some time ago.  

What is a pleasant surprise, however, is the fact that the moon itself has chosen you as his mate in the gift it had bestowed on the two of you. And as his eyes rove over you, he can’t help but grin. He’d always had his eye set on you, anyway. 

 You gasp in incredulity when you realize what’s just happened and to whom it has happened with as you fall back against the stage, completely floored by the howling of your wolf to go to him and accept it. 

 You’re just supposed to accept the fact that the alpha you’ve pined so badly for has been selected for you by the moon itself in the legendary soulmate’s gift of sight, which allows two fated wolves to see their eyes in the mate that completes them. You’re just supposed to casually accept that your fated mate is the alpha that everyone wants, including you. You’re just meant to easily believe that the alpha you begged to be claimed by while he had his cock rammed inside you within your fantasy is Jeon fucking Jungkook and that he’s your alpha.

 As you splutter and try to find anything to say in the shock that will soon leave your legs trembling, the alpha just smirks as he cards a hand through his hair in a display that has you licking at your lips despite everything as he flicks a brow, “What’s wrong, pretty? Cat got your tongue?”

[hauntedelation]

Repeat

Description - The Hammer proves to utilize surprising ways to settle down after a rough assignment.

Pairing - Black Male Reader x August Walker

A/N - This is my first male reader insert and AW fic! I wasn't sure how I should write the man but I found my August to be a little unpredictable, maybe hard. (Maybe he has some feelings, but he won't tell you what kind.)

Word Count - 2.4k

Warnings - descriptions of blood, wound tending and cleaning, anxiety, surprise fluff and maybe pining? Just partners being partners.

(no real proofreading this time y'all sorry 😅)

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

What he applied to your hand forced a pitiful sound from your body, something like a whimper subdued poorly by you.

By the sickly fluorescent light you can see it, the split that was the palm of your hand. Crimson upon crimson flooded the tissue, renewing again. 

Your insides overturned, and for the first time in your career you averted your eyes. You had to. For a reason you couldn't place your finger on, you knew you shouldn't stare. 

The way your pulse was working more warm liquid out of your hand, his fingers stained and slipping back and forth to tend, you felt unsteady. 

The spaces in your mind were gradually being occupied. So there was no shortage, no problem taking your mind off of it. 

You went back to that first mistake, back to where you foolishly under-packed. This assignment was far, but a swift turnaround. Accordingly, you thought it good to keep the amount of bags you carried to a minimum. 

A good number of things were left, a tool here and there that didn't stand out. You had done it before. One notch carved into the wood and you were null of any mistakes up until this point. 

What you couldn't grasp was that these absent devices were the key to this assignment. It hit like a ton of bricks the moment you were met with the complex screen of a security lock. 

You were deflated when your eyes met the empty space of what could have been the bypass key. There you spent upwards of an hour working through the perimeter of the place.

The next one could have happened regardless, but it didn't make you feel less inept. 

Where you went right when you should have gone left. The opponent you met was just as trained as you were: blank, unrelenting and practiced with a blade. You fell to a place where you were at a strident disadvantage. 

Would you have picked your jugular or your hand? There had to have been something better, a third choice? You should have been faster than that.

You could have.

Still, your hand caught the edge and it wasn't until much later, long after you were walking away that you could feel heat trickling down your fingers.

It's like the movies until it isn't. You've got yourself thrumming, high from the situation. You're locked in and can take anything to your vessel, then you're coming down slow. All the little details enter your mind, focusing and you notice. He noticed, actually.

With the most austere set of eyes you had ever seen, he did. 

Before you were given the chance to sit down he was standing over you, breath hot and charged from the brawl. On the top of your head you could feel it. The fabric of his suit was torn and twisted over his chest, rising and falling with his loosened tie.

He'd backed you to one of the steel tables, squinting through the dim and the dark. You had in mind that you were to be spit in the face, condemned for dragging the job to left-field. The glower had already been there.

You were bracing for it, balling both of your hands. The blunt object in your fingers collided with the brick floor. And it rang out, filling the empty spaces with a loud echo. Soon there was nothing. 

That's how it was seconds after.

A pair of boots brushed against yours before there was a hand capturing your right arm. He'd brought your dripping palm up and opened your curled fingers. Your wound was inspected with cautious eyes, the extent picked apart.

His calluses dragged around the edges of your sticky palm. You sucked in a breath when he had gone a little too close, but he ignored it. There was a drilling leer into your face before he spoke, "You were sloppy." 

The back of your throat had grown bone dry. You took a second, swallowing then pulling your eyes from his hardened face. 

That had been the first time that you'd been told that. Knowing in the very depths of you that this was the beginning to many months of second guessing, wishing you could have done better. 

You don't know why you had let this one go. Everything seemed feasible in the documents, from the time requirement to the objectives. You expected to have gone above and beyond.

That is close to what you told Sloane all those weeks ago,

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

"This one looks like it's going to be less of an issue."

She had her arms crossed in her crisp sleeves, her hip propped against the hardwood of her desk. You were called in to provide an updated report over your assignment, your feelings and projection.

It had gone to the point where you could no longer count on your fingers how many jobs you'd been on. The second anniversary from your first day recently passed, the bouquet still sitting on your dining room table.

You recall being introduced to your boss, the gratification in seeing someone like her in such an esteemed position.

(Someone who reminded you of your mother at times.)

Right then, the woman appeared to be getting ready to give a critical reply. Her brow was curled sharply but you could see the corners of her lips begin to upturn. 

"You have been assigned an associate with this task, agent."

This was of no particular issue. It was not every mission that you collaborated with another. Be that as it may, you've grown accustomed to this practice, it evolved into something that you improved with. This was your dream, and you intended to flourish.

You were sure there was no one you wouldn't be able to work with. 

When your superior uttered the name, 'Walker,' you had asked her to come again. 

"You're up and coming, still figuring things out in this line of work. I'm placing you with my best on this one," Sloane announced.

You withheld any signs of protest in front of her, flashing professional countenance and a nod. She dismissed you with a lingering gaze, most likely holding the same thing in her mind as you were. You kept up the front until you were situated at the chair by your desk. 

Upon your back touching the seat, a sigh was released, one that you felt in the pit of your stomach. 

You wanted to smile at how comical his name sounded. One would have thought you were speaking about an exotic dancer, The Hammer. You didn't think it fit at first. 

He's just a man, but he is the kind that exceeded the weight behind his title. He had discharged far more in his profession by the time you were approaching yours, taking the limits of what an agent could do to the stratosphere.

You could wax poetic about those stories, try to recount those details. But, truthfully there had been such a divide in your experience when compared to his. You could feel the pricks of uncertainty in your chest.

Perhaps you were only afraid.

He'd never once acknowledged your existence until you met on the tarmac the following Tuesday morning. The moon was leaving the twilight sky. Under an orange colored light, shining on the side of his face you could see him check his watch.

And then those eyes flicked over to you, sizing up your bags, your clothes. You think you may have even caught those blue slits drag along certain parts of you.

Your voice was weak, coughing low in your throat you tried to press out, "It's nice to finally meet, Mr. Walker."

(Ah, Mr Walker? You wanted to flinch, but you found no time.)

Then you provided him your name with a reluctant hand. It took far more composure on not showing the tremor in your limb but when the man peered down at you, securing your hand with a firm shake you knew. 

He'd felt how clammy your skin was. 

That mustache made a microscopic twitch, "Call me August, and, ditto."

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

You allowed your hand to remain elevated, but your period of self-loathing was eventually disturbed. 

The sensation of his large hands appeared, firm and wrapping around your waist before hoisting you on the surface of the steel table. There was a soft thud from your good hand landing to bear your shift in weight.

It was then that you froze, ears pricking to that steady footfall departing from the table.

You listen and—what?

What crosses your mind is maybe you hit your head back there, sometime during taking that grunt to the floor. Yet, you don't feel anything, no pounding in your skull. The musing is washed away the moment the flicker of a pale-green light shines above.

The room is revealed to have been an abandoned kitchen of sorts. Pots and pans layered in a thin veil of dust with more grime to compliment. With your good hand you wipe at the sweat falling down your temple, you'd become a little hot. 

Glass crumbles underneath his boots, he rotates his back around to you with a small kit that strongly resembles the one you stored in your bag. 

The white plastic had your name scrawled on there in your handwriting. While you could sit there wondering how August retrieved that, you are still processing the way the man picked you up. How he brought you up like you were made of feathers. Why he…

He comes in real close, your vision floods with a view of his chest, his gloved hands shedding away the garment and laying them on the metal surface.

The soft click of the first aid box click echoes out, and under the hum of the lights above August murmurs down to you, 

"At least you had enough sense to pack this."

His tone is the same, puncturing only not quite as breathy. The rise and fall of his chest had slowed far more, the dark curls on his chest soaking in the sweat running down his skin. And you blink, not realizing how enthralling the sight is.

Your pulsing hand is taken again, gingerly, by a pair of rough hands. You brace yourself on the edge of the table upon seeing the clear liquid bottle.

He's cleaning your wound throughly and you're trying not to take it like a kicked puppy. Through grit teeth, "You think I could skip stitches this time?" They never were your favorite.

"No dice," he breaths out, placing the bottle of alcohol down next to your thigh.

"You about had your hand sliced in half, Agent. You're lucky anyway. But,"

The needle and thread is pulled out, more cleansing and draining. Rinse and repeat. Walker was moving quickly, probably sensing the adrenaline in you draining by the minute.

Your communication devices buzz in unison, you don't have time to check your screen for any updates before he reaches with one hand in his pocket to retrieve his.

He sets your hand down on your own thigh and you listen to his voice shift to a formal tone. The female voice on the other line, (Sloane most likely) sounds curt and questioning. 

Your stomach begins to roll in circles. Your fingers wrapped around the table's edge tighten around the metal, almost enough to leave marks.

Through those training sessions all those months, you learned to properly squash any threats of anxiety, distraction. You could feel yourself slipping, your body seizing up in front of the man. Walker seemed to have been approaching the height of his conversation with your boss, shifting so the phone rests between his ear and shoulder. 

In the meantime, you were breathing. That familiar rhythm, flowing in and out, counting. You fall into the headspace that you became acquainted with all too well. 

You lost yourself in it, not realizing that Walker was dissolving Sloane's interrogation. Every syllable. The way in which his voice formed the words was unknowingly steadying your brain, calming your heart rate down slowly. 

All the while taking your wounded hand was taken in his, he set about cleaning it one more time before starting to close it with the thread. 

"Yes ma'am. No, he had everything in his detail under control...Yes. That's correct. The only slip up had been breaching the security wall but we successfully infiltrated."

You could feel the sharp pricks in your skin, your arm tensing after each pull to the string when closing the wound. Eventually Walker drifted, and your eyes landed on the semi-clean criss cross stitching in the palm of your hand. 

The man's eyes were dead set on his handiwork, narrowing on the lines before clearing his throat to part ways with your boss. There was a, "We will report back upon leaving this location."

He hung up the phone, and slid the device next to your thigh. You didn't think anything of it, only Walker's hand didn't leave where his phone was sitting. And you were encircled, the fabric of his shirt practically enticing his body closer to yours.

It had been a number of seconds before you could bring yourself back. The same exercise was reaching its tail end, and maybe, just maybe you could believe Sloane would not chew you a new one when you return.

Those words, It's okay, you tried your best. Everyone has bad days. You said them once again, inaudible and only in your mind. The room at this point only held the echo of the cars outside, Walker's heavy boots shifting before—

His fingertips were cold against your jaw, you almost jumped away from him. You should have, what was he doing? His thigh brushed so light against your knee, and when he guided your eyes up, you saw him already peering at your damp face.

Everything about the man's face was blank. Thick brows, lips hidden under a bushy trail of hair, all set in a firm line. You made no attempt to divert, you weren't sure he would let you. You had been planted there, decided by him your next move would be included.

Then those words fell silent. 

His fingertips pushed up your jaw, against the grain of your facial hair growing there. Then you felt him cup your cheek, strong hands dragging along your skin. 

Walker used his thumb to brush against your temple, wiping away something sticky. Red tint coated the little grooves in his skin and he pulled away, wiping his digit on the material of your pants. His tone was far more entertained then,

"Looks like you hit your head back there."

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Taglist - @mansaaay @hope-to-hell @feralrunaway @thetaoofzoe @luclittlepond @madbaddic7ed @brandycranby @emyearns

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

[tanyawritesstories]

Frozen Miracles | The Mandalorian x reader

My first Din piece! I wrote this awhile ago before season 2 ended and only now am publishing it. Hope you enjoy 😊

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: fluff, pregnant reader, detailed descriptions of birth, Din frustration, the child isn't chaotic for once

•••

He stood watching the Krayt Dragon meat roast, waiting for Peli to get done talking to his informant. He shuffled around impatiently, watching as the child stared longingly at his dinner.

Needless to say, Din was frustrated. The only lead he had on finding others like him had evaporated the second that marshal removed his helmet. He knew immediately that all the time and energy he spent getting to this point was a waste. By the end of that journey he had: saved a community, restored peace between cultures, slain a dragon, and acquired the imposter’s armor to return it to it’s rightful owners. It was by no means an unsuccessful mission, it just wasn’t the outcome he expected.

He was snapped out of his reverie by Peli shouting at her droid. She approached, telling him about the nearby covert within the sector. He absorbed her words, committing them to memory and hoping that this lead was more promising.

“I just have one favor to ask,” Peli added. Din merely turned his head towards her to show he was listening. “There is someone who needs a ride off this planet.”

His hands returned to their place on his hips, “What’s that gonna cost me? I’m not a taxi service.”

“I know, I know,” she said, “But they’re willing to pay you to take them to the nearest civilized planet.”

He sighed softly, looking at the ground. “What’s the catch?”

“No hyperdrive.”

His helmet snapped to look at her. “No, that’s a deal breaker. Hyperspace is the only thing keeping me safe. I can’t do it.” He gestured.

Peli sighed right back, putting her hands on her hips. “Look, the nearest habitable planet isn’t far away. Surely you can manage that? They won’t be difficult.”

“Why no light speed? What’s the reason for it?”

Peli turned and beckoned whoever this passenger was to come out from her office. Din didn’t know what he expected but it certainly wasn’t who came walking into the hangar.

A woman stepped out into the sand, looking cautiously at the two of them. She looked young, quite a bit younger than him. She was dressed in tan clothes, a floor-length skirt and a poncho that looked a few sizes too big, it hid the outline of her frame and made her look like she was drowning in the clothing. A thin sheet of cloth was draped on top of her head, falling over her shoulders like a veil, tied loosely under her chin, leaving her collarbone exposed and some of her hair visible.

Peli waved her over and the young woman slowly approached. Peli put her arm on the woman’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Her husband died eight months ago and she wants to get off Tatooine and start over somewhere new,” she explained.

“Why me? There are transports that can carry passengers,” he replied.

“She doesn’t trust them and she said you seemed safe,” Peli answered for the woman, who still hadn’t spoken a word.

Din’s silence left an unspoken question lingering in the air. What makes her think I’m safe? The woman seemed to sense this and began signing with her hands, using hand signals that Din could decipher.

I’ve read about Mandalorians before, and you have a child. You seem trustworthy.

“She says you seem trustworthy because you have a child with you,” Peli translated, “And she’s read about Mandalorians before.”

“Why can't she talk?” He asked.

“She hasn’t spoken since her husband was killed. I’ve known her for years, she used to talk all the time, she was really happy,” Peli said, a sympathetic expression coming to her face. The young woman looked at the ground, her face was emotionless and cold. She looked void of all happiness, empty and hollow, her lips set in a straight line that hadn’t curved into a smile in a long time.

“You never told me the reason for no hyperdrive,” he restated.

Peli and the woman made eye contact and the older woman nodded to her. The younger woman slowly lifted the bottom of her poncho to expose her swollen stomach. She was pregnant.

“Hyperspace could harm the baby, even kill it. She just wants to get off this planet, too many memories of her husband," Peli explained for the woman.

Din turned away, contemplating and weighing his options. The sound of credits jingling together made him turn to face them again. The young woman held a small, worn leather pouch out to him. He took it in his hands and opened it, revealing a large amount of credits.

"How much is this?"

The woman began to sign and Peli watched in order to translate, not knowing Din already knew what she was saying.

It's 5,000 credits. It's all I have.

"Five thousand credits," Peli said, "It's all that she has left."

He looked between her and the pouch of credits, closing it and tucking it into his belt. "Alright, let's go."

The young woman turned to Peli and gave her a quick hug before walking up the ramp into the Crest.

Din watched her as she disappeared within the metal hull of his ship.

"Hey."

Din turned back to Peli, who had begun gnawing on a piece of meat.

"Take care of her," the older mechanic said, "She's been through a lot. Don't get me wrong, she's tough, but that baby is the only good thing in her life right now."

He nodded, letting her know he had heard her words. He turned again to look at where she had entered his ship, wondering what he had just gotten himself into.

~~~~

He settled the Razor Crest into space and set a course to the nearest safe planet, a moon called Nexlar. Despite it being close it would still take several hours to get there, especially without the use of hyperspace.

His passenger had decided to wander down into the hull as soon as the ship was stable. He tried to stop her but it was of no use.

He climbed down the ladder and turned to face his bunk, pressing the control panel letting the door slide up.

"Kid?"

He turned around to look for the little green troublemaker, only to find him standing on a crate next to which their guest was sitting on the floor. Her back was to Mando as he watched her feed his miniature companion pieces of a juicy pink fruit. He took silent steps towards them and observed their interaction.

The child cooed and giggled happily with each morsel of food she fed him. He always ate so much, Din swore his stomach was a bottomless pit.

He watched the expressions on her face, however small they were. She didn't look as helpless or as sad. She almost looked happy and he saw the corner of her mouth twitch up when the child reached out for her.

She continued to feed him until she didn't have any more, holding her hands up to show the youngling that she was empty handed. The child made a sad whining sound, his ears drooping in disappointment and her eyebrows reacted with sadness at seeing him upset. She reached out and pressed a feather light touch to his little green cheek before picking him up and setting him down on the floor.

She must have seen Mando’s boots when she put the kid down, as she jumped back in surprise, a little gasp escaping her lips.

“Hey, it’s ok,” he said calmly. Even with him being slow and calm she still pushed herself away from him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” It took him a second to realize that she might think he doesn’t understand her. He didn’t exactly make it known that he knew her every word back at the hangar. So he took to her form of communication, signing with his hands as well.

Thank you for feeding him.

He could see the gears turning in her head through the expressions on her face. Starting on shock going to realization then to relief and maybe something akin to thankfulness.

You are welcome. I read that that specific fruit was healthy for children. She signed back.

“What’s your name?” he asked out loud. She signed individual letters until it spelled her name. “Y/N, is that right?” She nodded, the corner of her mouth turning up into a small smirk again.

“I’m going to hit the rack, why don’t you head up to the cockpit and try to get some sleep. That chair is much comfier than the floor.”

She began to get up but with most of her weight in the front she was having trouble. Din bent and reached out, grabbing onto her elbows and helping her to stand. She grunted with the effort of trying to stand while being pregnant. She held onto her stomach when she had made it to her feet, wincing in what was either pain or discomfort. Din made sure she could stand on her own before letting her go and watching to make sure she got up the ladder alright. He retrieved the child and set him down in his hammock before crawling beneath his hanging bed and laying down to get some rest himself.

~~~~

Din was woken up by the blaring alarm sounding from the cockpit. He rushed out of his bed and up the ladder, planting himself in his chair and flicking off the alarm. He turned to see the woman- Y/N - with a concerned look on her face, staring out the viewport. He followed her gaze to see the two X-wing fighters on either side of his ship. They were comming him.

He answered reluctantly, giving them the information they needed and hoping they would then leave him alone.

They didn't.

He was doing his best but wasn't good at lying under pressure. There was still some hope he could get out of this confrontation. That was until they asked about the prison.

Din forced the Crest into a dive towards the unknown planet they were currently above. He heard her gasp from behind him and brace herself against the walls. He was trying to lose them, he knew he couldn't outrun them.

"Hold on!" He said, veering towards an opening in the frozen cliffside.

He shot around the corner and disappeared into the cave, praying that the X-wings didn't see him. One of the engines hit against the side of the cave as it got narrower. He was going to have to put it down, there was no other option. The keel of the ship hit the ground and they slid, spinning until they were facing the opposite direction. Din was trying his best to get the thing under control but he was losing fast.

The Crest went over a rut in the ice and was launched several meters high before it crashed down to level ground again. Finally stopping when the stern collided hard with a solid wall of ice. They were all jolted forwards in their seats and their backs hit the chairs as it stopped.

Din rapidly hit switches and pressed buttons trying to discover the state of his ship, he got no reaction from his vessel but continued to try regardless. The woman groaned and he turned to look at her. She laid her head against the wall, her face contorted into an expression of pain. Both her arms were wrapped around her enlarged middle, her hands trembling.

The open comm crackled as the faint voices of the X-wing pilots faded out of range. Din tried more controls, failing to notice that his passenger had unbuckled herself and moved to try and check on his child.

The Crest lurched forward as the ice underneath it gave way. She stumbled and was thrown into the back of his chair, in turn making him jolt forwards. The entire ship began to move as the ice broke and soon it was falling through. Everything seemed to slow down as the Crest descended into a chasm. It hit the floor with astounding force and noise. It’s occupants were thrown around hard and the last thing Din remembered was the sound, before he was thrown forward and knocked unconscious.

~~~~

He came to, slowly moving his head a little, then his arm, then his whole body. Feeling returned to his limbs as he woke up. How long had he been out? It was freezing and frost had accumulated on his armor. He tried and failed on the controls, the Razor Crest wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

In his haste to figure out what had happened and attempts to find a solution he had forgotten about his passenger. A low groan reminded him that she was there. He turned around in the chair to see her body limp at the foot of the door. The tip of her nose and fingers were tinged a light blue and he noticed the draping had fallen off her head. Her clothes weren’t cut out for the cold, they were thin to combat the hot Tatooine temperatures, she would no doubt freeze to death if she didn't warm up soon.

He only had to take a couple steps to get to her, crouching down and shaking her gently. She opened her eyes and he grabbed under her arms, lifting her up. Even with his thick gloves he could feel how cold she was.

"You're freezing, we need to get you warm. Stay here, I'll find some blankets."

He set her down in a passenger seat and dropped down the ladder to inspect the damage. Luckily, the kid had stayed in his hammock, Din grabbed him and all the blankets he had and returned to the cockpit. She was shaking from the cold and had one hand pressed to her temple the other on her belly.

Din set the kid down in his chair and draped a blanket around the woman. She winced as she pulled her hand away from her head, blood covered her palm.

"You're injured.." he said. "I'll get a medkit, stay there." He dropped into the damaged hull once more, retrieving the medkit and crouching in front of her to check her wound.

"Let me see." He gently pushed her hand away to reveal a cut on her left temple, going into her hair. He inspected it, thankfully it wasn't deep and she appeared to not have suffered too much damage.

She pulled the thin shawl off where it fell on her shoulders and wiped her bloody hand on it. She held it out to him and motioned to her head. "Ok," he said, taking the cloth and carefully wiping away what blood he could. He cleaned her wound before applying a small bacta patch.

"That should do it," he said. He packed the medkit back up and tossed it behind him. She still looked to be in pain, now both her hands were on her stomach. "Is the baby ok?"

She moved her hands around, sighing in relief shortly after, then nodding.

Just kicking. She signed.

Before Din could do anything she took his hand and placed it on her belly. Through her layers and his gloves he could feel the small jolts from the life growing within her. There was something so intimate about it. He felt like it was something he shouldn't be witnessing, it was too personal and he was a stranger. She let go of his hand to sign.

Can you feel it? She asked with a smile.

"Yes," he answered, "that's amazing." Despite having let go of his hand, Din kept it in place, feeling as the rowdy little one settled down.

"I need to patch up the hull, I'll be right back," he bid.

I'll watch him for you. She signed, pointing to the child who was playing with a switch.

"Thank you."

Din set about fixing his ship as much as he could, it was in worse shape than he thought. What felt like a couple hours passed and he stopped to take a break and warm up inside. As he walked back around to the front he noticed footprints in the snow leading towards an opening in the cave wall. He looked inside the ship and saw that the kid was sleeping soundly in his bed, wrapped in blankets. She was the one who had left.

Din followed the footsteps into a path of ice tunnels, looking around cautiously. He touched the side of his helmet whenever he could no longer see her tracks. His HUD illuminating her imprints in thermal colors. He continued to follow for what felt like a long time, how far in here had she gone? He hoped nothing had happened to her.

That hope disappeared when he heard a yell come from further in. Din broke into a run, sprinting towards the noise. He rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

Y/N was sitting waist deep in a small pool of steaming water. She had stripped off her skirt and was only wearing her shirt which was off white and wet to above her stomach, nearly see through. She was in immense pain, her face contorted into agony. She leaned against the edge of the pool, her head resting on the cold snow. One hand gripping the edge so hard her knuckles turned white, the other on her stomach, which looked to be the source of her pain.

He rushed to her side and kneeled in the snow. "Are you alright? What happened?" He asked, looking her over frantically.

She didn't sign, just put her finger on her stomach then dragged it down and pointed out. It suddenly became obvious what was happening to her.

She was in labor.

Din tried not to panic but he was having a hard time. He had no idea how to handle this situation.

“Uh, what can I do?”

She signed quickly and her hands moved so fast and were so shaky that Din almost couldn’t understand her.

I can do this. I just need you to do one thing.

“What, what do you need me to do?”

Her response was clear.

Catch.

She shifted herself and Din helped her so her legs were pointed towards him. “Uh, um, ok. I think I can do that.” He hoped his voice didn’t come through the modulator as shaky and nervous as he felt like it sounded.

She continued to groan and shout in pain and Din wished he could do more. He hesitated to touch her but wanted to support the woman and give her strength, he gently placed a hand on her bent knee.

"C'mon, you can do this. Remember to breathe," he encouraged.

He also didn't want to look down. The water was murky but shallow and he had briefly glimpsed her lower nudity when she turned towards him. Knowing that he would have to reach down there and literally catch her child soon was making him sweat underneath his armor.

Catch, he was going to have to use his hands. He looked at his gloved hands, the gloves had been everywhere and were no doubt dirty and not safe for a newborn. He couldn't touch her with them. Din took a minute and shucked off his gloves, setting them beside him. He reached over to her pile of discarded clothes and grabbed the blanket she'd had around her, setting it between his legs to place the baby on right away.

He made sure to keep his own breathing steady as he looked down, seeing the head of the baby slowly coming through her opening. He took a deep breath and urged her on, watching in mild horror as the child came through more and more.

Din put his hands into the water and helped get the baby’s shoulder through, as she had instructed him. Part of him wished he hadn’t taken his gloves off as his hands were now coated in slimy liquids.

With a last strong push her baby came all the way out and into Din’s hands. He gasped on reflex, it was smaller than he thought it would be. He quickly raised the baby out of the water and wrapped it in the blanket. He pulled his vibroblade out of his boot, about to cut the cord. He looked to her for permission, getting a nod and a warm smile from the exhausted woman.

He broke through it, finally severing the connection between mother and child. She sat up all the way and reached out to him, Din put the babe in her arms and sat back in the snow, almost as exhausted as her.

He looked over at the woman, cradling her baby against her chest, a huge smile on her face. She looked at him, signing.

It’s a girl.

“Congratulations,” he replied.

Thank you, for everything.

“You’re welcome,” Din sighed. “What are you going to name her?”

The woman thought for a moment before looking at him with a smile.

Mandi, after you.

Din’s eyebrows raised under his helmet. “Me? Why me?”

You helped deliver her. It's the least I can do.

Din stared and she paused, both of them thinking.

I will get you more credits when I'm settled, I know this wasn't part of the deal.

He sighed again. "Don't worry about that right now, we need to get you two back to the Crest." She held her child out to Din and he carefully held the tiny girl in his arms the way she showed him. He turned his back to her so she could dry off and dress, meanwhile also becoming enamored with the baby in his arms. Her small pink face peeked through the warm confines of the blanket, eyes closed, peaceful. It all suddenly became real to him.

This was another man's child that he helped bring into the world. A tiny human that he physically saw come to life in his hands. He felt honored, this experience should have been for someone else, the man she loved. But he was gone and Din was, for now, his replacement in a life changing event. Din reached a bare hand up to touch her cheek. The newborn stirred but didn't open her eyes. He held her tighter, having a sudden urge to protect her and keep her warm and safe. She was only about 20 minutes old and already had Din wrapped around her tiny fingers. This must be the same thing that happened when he'd found his child. Almost like a kind of hypnosis, drawing him in, bringing out a side of him he hadn't known he had.

He heard a pained groan and snow crunching and swiftly turned around, finding the woman was fully clothed and had fallen. She was still recovering and her body was too weak to walk just yet, she had tried and fallen when her limbs gave out. He kneeled beside her and she held his gloves out to him. He thanked her and took the gloves, transferring the child back into her arms. He donned his gloves and tugged off his cape. Since using her blanket for the baby, Y/N was left without anything to keep her warm. Din wrapped his cape around her and picked her up like a bride, carrying her back to the Crest.

Thankfully, his own little one had stayed put the whole time but was now awake and rummaging about. Din set her down on his bed and got her more blankets. He wagered he could get some more repairs done and wandered outside again.

~~~~

The sun was going down and it was getting colder than it already was, Din stepped inside and sealed the ship as well as he could for the night. He walked to his bunk to check on his passengers. He found her laying on her side, fast asleep. Mandi laid in front of her, also asleep. He also found his own son, asleep, on the other side of Mandi. Y/N had an arm lightly wrapped around both children, each of them had ahold of one of her fingers. If it wasn't so cold, he might've melted at the sight. It was so pure, so domestic. Something he never thought he'd see in relation to him. The thought of them all belonging to him passed through his mind briefly. He knew that could never be a possibility, especially for him.

He grabbed some food for himself and made his way up to the cockpit, finally intent on eating something. As soon as he made it up there, he heard a baby crying from below. He quickly made his way back down to find Mandi crying and wiggling around in her mother’s arms. Y/N stirred in her sleep and Din carefully scooped the baby into his arms, not wanting her tired mother to wake up, she needed sleep. Din could watch the baby for a while, he could deal with his child, and he was much worse than Mandi. Din rocked the little girl in his arms until she stopped crying, which wasn’t long. He carefully climbed back into the cockpit and laid the baby in his son’s crib. He wasn’t using it right now. He rocked the floating bed and Mandi’s face softened into calm.

“There you go, all better,” he said softly. He took one hand out of his glove again and ran his thumb over the back of her hand. Her skin was smooth and warm against Din’s blaster calloused hands.

“You need some sleep, tiny one, so does your mother. So you’re stuck with me right now.”

Din continued to talk to the tiny girl until he was sure she was sleeping. He then removed his helmet and was finally able to eat. He was nearly finished when he turned to reach across the controls and bumped his helmet, causing it to fall and hit the floor with a loud clang. Mandi was immediately woken up and began crying. Din reacted fast and took the baby into his arms, rocking her again.

"Shh, shh it's ok. I'm here, you're safe."

Din allowed a smile to spread across his exposed face, able to see how precious she was without his helmet in the way. He simply couldn't resist the sight of this perfect little one in his arms. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Just as he pulled back, the little girl opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was shocked for a moment, this was the first time he'd seen her open her eyes and she was looking at him...without his helmet.

Din looked around to find it lying on the floor near his feet. He wondered if this was technically breaking the Creed since he knew the baby would never remember what he looked like. But nevertheless, he picked the Beskar barrier up off the floor and set it on his head. For once, he was hating having to put it back on.

~~~~

Din didn't remember falling asleep in his chair in the cockpit, not to mention with little Mandi cradled against his stomach, also asleep. He looked around, how much time had passed? He wasn't sure. He thought he heard a faint sizzling sound and his helmet enhanced his hearing. It sounded like someone was welding.

Din got up and set Mandi back into the crib without waking her up. He climbed quietly down into the hull and found the kid asleep in his hammock, but the woman was missing. The sizzling sound was louder and came in increments. Din exited the ship, following the noise to the other side of the ship. There he found the woman kneeling in the snow, tools in hand, repairing his ship. He was stunned, she had just given birth not even 24 hours ago and here she was fixing his ship, and doing a great job as well.

He cleared his throat to get her attention and she looked to him and smiled.

"What're you doing out here?"

Fixing the ship.

"I see that," he replied, "You should be inside where it's warmer."

But I can help, Peli taught me everything she knows. Let me help you.

Din sighed. If this woman was right and she could help fix the Crest then he wanted her help, but he also wanted her to stay safe. “Alright, I’ll start on the other side. If we work together we might get this done before nightfall.”

The woman nodded and got back to work, Din grabbed more tools and started on a different part of the ship. They worked, taking breaks when too cold, and made huge progress on the Crest’s repairs.

~~~~

“I think that’s all we can do with the tools we have,” Din surmised, “We need to get to a hangar and have someone finish the rest.”

The woman stood next to him, looking over their work with a proud look on her face. She had fashioned a sash out of a blanket that went across her torso, Mandi was nestled safe inside, held against her mother’s chest. Y/N also had his little womp rat balanced on her hip.

They had welded and wired everything as best as they could, and managed to patch the hole in the hull with spare durasteel panels.

Shall we get off this frozen rock now?

“That sounds good to me,” Din agreed.

They boarded the ship and Din took the kid while Y/N climbed into the cockpit. He went over the hull again before joining her, setting the kid in one of the passenger seats. He turned and saw her in his chair, flipping switches and pressing buttons. The engines roared to life and she checked out the viewport to make sure they were working correctly. He watched her as she got the ship ready for takeoff, another thing he didn’t know she could do. He was pleasantly surprised.

Over the last few days he had learned she was a great mechanic, took amazing care of both the kids, and now he learned she was also a pilot who knew her way around a ship. He put one arm on the headrest of his seat the other on his hip as he watched her expertly handle the machinery. She was just about to grab the steering handles when she stopped herself and looked up at him. She looked apologetic and began signing to him.

I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I haven’t flown a ship in so long I just got excited.

She bowed her head at him and got out of the chair, taking one behind him. He chuckled. “It’s ok, maybe as we get closer to Nexlar I’ll let you pilot.” He looked back in time to see her face light up with excitement. He smiled under his helmet and turned back to get the Crest in the air.

He was able to get out of the cave and back into the blackness of space with more ease than he expected. He breathed a sigh of relief when everything held and he was able to set their course for the destined planet.

She tapped him on the shoulder and signed that she was taking the kids down into the hull to try and get them to sleep. He thanked her and watched as she climbed down the ladder, handing the child to her once she was down.

It must have only been about half an hour before he heard someone calling him.

“Mando!”

The voice was broken and strained, whoever was talking was having a very hard time with it. He turned to face the doors.

“Mando!”

A little louder. It was a woman’s voice, she was talking, calling for him. She called him again, panic in her broken and unused voice.

Din jumped out of his chair and quickly climbed down into the hull. Y/N was standing at the foot of his bunk, staring down the length of the ship. He followed her gaze to see all the storage crates and lose equipment suspended in mid air, floating with nothing holding them.

He walked to his bunk only to see his child sound asleep in his hammock. If it wasn’t him then who…

He looked at Y/N to see her concerned and panic stricken face, they both looked down at the same time. Little Mandi was awake and smiling gleefully, waving her tiny limbs around, the suspended cargo moving with her small motions.

“What’s happening?” Y/N croaked out, scared and worried about her baby.

Din sighed as the information sunk in. Not another one.

[beccarooni]

The End - Chapter 2

(Tag list: @ageofgeek, @elreyciervo, @woahthisguy, @generationblip - ask to be added!)

Loki hadn’t been permitted to show his face at Frigga’s funeral, but he’d had a good enough second-hand description to imagine it as if he had. Golden towers, draped with black cloth. His mothers boat, adorned with flowers, her sword placed in her hands and a golden veil over her face. A flaming arrow shot by their finest archers - and even that too was gold. Frigga would sail to the ends of their horizon; dissolving into flame and sparks, her spirit scattered amongst the stars, marking her journey to Valhalla. Where the brave shall live forever.

He knew the feelings well enough; even if the visual had not been his. He knew that aching feeling inside - like a creature, tiny and desperate, trapped beneath his ribcage and clawing to escape. Loss was something he was well acquainted with by now; and the splendour that Asgard attached to it seemed almost intrinsic to the process. Asgard’s warriors died the deaths of heroes; it was only right that their passages would be heralded by something as glorious as they had in life.

Cramped in the Quinjet bathroom, with barely enough room to get on his knees, Loki muttered out the parting prayer - quiet enough so that Banner couldn’t hear from the other side of the door. A piece of his armour caught against the sink, and all of a sudden he was struck by how wrong this felt.

Sadness, he expected. Fury, and rage; those were emotions he knew came with death. But this sense of wrongness, of shame - it was new. It was new, and uncomfortable, and he wanted it to stop.

There was no body to bury. Nothing to cast to the stars, no boat to lay his brother to rest in, no hammer to place gently against his chest. This was the best he could do, and it burned his face with shame. Loki didn’t know the fate of the others. They may have survived, but they also may have died. And that would make Thor the last one. Possibly the last true Asgardian, and this was how his parting from this world would be marked. No fanfare, no lanterns, no stars.

An airplane bathroom, smaller than a closet, and a few words whispered from cracked and bleeding lips. The harsh smell of cleaning agents, and the harsher glare of the flickering light above him. A body, his brother, left in the cold grip of space - maybe forever. The best he could hope for was that a passing garbage collector would take pity on the condemned, and at least allow them the decency of a disposal.

This was what Loki of Asgard had to offer the God of Thunder, and it sickened him to think of it.

Loki swallowed, pressed his forehead against the plastic walls, and muttered the last of the prayers.

“Thor, I bid you take your place in the halls of Valhalla, where the brave shall live forever. Nor shall we mourn but rejoice, for those that have died the glorious death.”

Glorious death.

He sniffed, slumping from his knees further to the floor, and shutting his eyes against the world.

There was nothing glorious about this.

His throat hurt, and he allowed himself a few tears as the neon light flickered above him. The prayer was the only tribute he had to give. Well, that and revenge, of course.

Revenge was a talent Loki had yet to perfect. His schemes had a nasty habit of going awry at the last second - but, he supposed, the one person who was always there to thwart said schemes wasn’t here anymore. Now, there was a stretch of open road between him and his dagger piercing Thanos’s heart. Wherever that monster landed, whatever cursed ground marked the final battle, he knew he would be there. His soul wouldn’t let him rest if he wasn’t.

That would be the final gesture he could make for his brother, then. Thanos would die at his hand, he would pay for all he had taken from them. The gentle ending that they were robbed of; where they sailed to earth through the stars, as their ancestors once had. Where they landed, safe and sound, and rebuilt their departed homeworld. If the Mad Titan was so fond of balance, then he could experience it for himself. The scales would tip even with his death; and then, perhaps Loki could rest. Leave for somewhere new, and condemn this blood soaked tapestry to the dirt.

The tale of the house of Odin; beginning in blood, and ending as it began. Crimson, it seemed, was destined to stain the pages of their storybook. And Loki had seen more than enough of it for one lifetime.

“Hey, Loki?”

Banner knocked on the door, gentle enough that Loki almost didn’t hear it over the sound of the engines.

“Are you alright in there? It’s just, uh, it’s been a while. I don’t know if you’re sick, or...yeah.”

Loki cleared his throat, moving to his feet. A quick glance in the mirror, an adjustment of illusions, and he was himself again. There was a certain image he wanted to uphold with the Avengers; even if Banner had certainly seen worse of him (tied to a chair in Valkyrie’s apartment and having a bottle lobbed at his head, for one). They still thought of him as a threat - and there was comfort in that perception. An evil being, a god mad with power - they wouldn’t feel sorrow. Evil wouldn’t cry for its kin. Evil was unstoppable, unstable; an ever shifting force. He didn’t want to disabuse any of them of that notion quite just yet.

“I’m fine. Just washing my hands.” He opened the door, coming face to face with the worrisome scientist standing in front of him.

“I would think that with all the riches in his possession, Stark would grace you with more than one bathroom.” Loki moved past Banner, stalking back to his seat with as much dignity as one could muster when exiting from an airplane bathroom.

“Yeah. It does make missions kinda awkward, sometimes.” Banner rubbed the back of his head, hovering by the door for a moment before shuffling back to the bench where he was sat.

“Six super-people and only one bathroom. It can get intense.”

“I can only imagine.” Loki grimaced as he sat down, folding his hands in his lap.

There was a silence, then. But one with a touch of anticipation. Banner kept looking at him, and after a few minutes it began to grate on his nerves. It was the face of a scientist, after all. The one brimming with questions but holding back purely on social decorum. Banner tapped his feet, bounced his leg, cast him a sideways look. Loki stared ahead impassively, keeping his eyes trained on the window in front of him. He could guess what question it was that Banner wanted answering; and, frankly, it wasn’t something Loki wanted to discuss right now.

Banner wanted to know why Loki had chosen to help them. Why his loyalties had so quickly changed. And of course it was a complex answer; one wrought with chaos and really it would require a play with at least twelve acts to get through, and -

“Why’d you say that earlier?”

The scientist spoke softly, and Loki turned to him, arching an eyebrow in confusion.

“About Thor being dead.”

Loki groaned, leaning until the back of his head touched the cold metal wall behind him.

“Why do you care?”

He wanted to muster some venom into his voice; to spit out the words with vitriol and hatred. But he was so tired, and it came out with more numbness than he intended.

Banner looked at him a little more intensely then, and he could’ve sworn a hint of green crept into the scientist’s eyes.

“Why do I care?” He shook his head, frowning deeply. “You keep telling me about how your brother - one of my closest friends - is dead, and then wonder why that might possibly piss me off?”

Loki scoffed, and Banner folded his arms, shifting his gaze into a dark corner of the quinjet.

“I care because you’re not even giving him a chance. It’s like you have no faith in him - when he’s had nothing but faith in you. You’ve died a lot, and he’s always expected you to come back sooner or later.”

“This is different.”

“How? How is it different? If you’ve come back enough times, then he can too. I know you don’t think he’s smart enough for that but he is. He’s smart, and strong, and kind, and I just-” Banner cut himself off as his face illuminated with green, and his voice shot a few octaves deeper than normal.

Loki scooted back, watching the scientist's face with a degree of caution. He didn’t expect the beast to appear - when one of the sorcerers had hurried Banner back into the building, looking thoroughly un-green, he assumed something had happened. Which was understandable, he supposed. Travelling through the bifrost was bad enough for the inexperienced - let alone the unfortunate circumstances surrounding their travel.

He and Hulk had an uneasy truce on the Statesman. They stayed out of eachothers way, mostly. Hulk was wary of him; and vice versa - even if Thor had tried his best to ease tensions between them with group meetings and ‘dinner nights’. But that wasn’t enough to make him jump for joy at the prospect of seeing Hulk again; especially on a cramped jet, and without his usual strength to defend himself.

Although, it might be nice to see the beast again. It would be a familiar face at the very least; and while he wasn’t concerned about the giant’s safety, he couldn’t deny that his strength had brought a certain comfort with it. When you had the hulk by your side, you felt unstoppable. And it would be rather nice to have that confidence for the battle ahead.

When the scientist seemed to catch himself, Loki was almost disappointed. Banner breathed heavily, the green veins on his face dying down and retreating below the surface.

“He can’t be dead, Loki. He just...He can’t be.”

Loki paused, leaning forward a little. Studying the man in front of him; the twitches, the clasped hands wringing together, the never ending tapping of the foot. The strained expression; the eyes that held hope, but something else underneath that. Something desperate.

Banner didn’t just want Thor back. He needed him.

And all at once, those accidental touches on the Statesman made sense. Every guiding hand on the small of Banner’s back, every meal that the two had shared together, each word of comfort and gentle smile; it wasn’t just comradery.

Loki’s eyes widened, and he laughed; a hollow, bitter sound.

“You liked him.”

“What?” Banner looked away from him then, a muscle twitching in his cheek. “Of course I like him. I’ve known the guy for 6 years.”

“No, this is much more than a - Oh, what did he call it - a friend from work. You fancied him.”

He caught the sight of Bruce’s fists clenching at his sides, and for some reason that sparked something inside of him. A memory from long ago; of being trapped in that glass prison, with a sudden desire to set the beast loose.

“Well, maybe your paramour being dead will be enough to draw the beast back from the shadows. Does it make you angry, Bruce? Does the thought of someone you love dying for nothing fill you with rage?”

“Stop.” Bruce dropped to a whisper, screwing his eyes shut as if that could drown out the sound.

Some part of him told him to take pity on the man. A word of wisdom from his mother; that grief shared was grief halved. And maybe this wasn’t very nice of him, and maybe it wasn’t at all in line with honouring his brother’s memory, but at this moment he couldn’t find it within him to care. He wanted glory again - wanted the feeling of control that he’d had back on the helicarrier.

“I wonder if you ever confessed it to one another - or did he die without ever knowing it? You know, I always assumed that when his heart stopped he thought of Asgard, but maybe he thought of you. Maybe the last thing he ever felt was heartbreak, because he never knew if you loved him back-”

“Stop it!” Bruce’s voice deepened as he leapt to his feet, the veins along his neck deepening to a dark green; but it went further than that. Green blotches spread across his arms, and there was a momentary wildness in his eyes that Loki recognised.

The beast was here. Loki bared his teeth in a fierce grin, hands waiting for his daggers and his body itching for a fight.

But none came.

Banner’s fists stayed clenched, he shook with anger, but that was apparently all the good doctor could muster. The remnants in his eyes died out, like the last few sparks of a campfire, and he remained firmly Bruce Banner-sized. Loki sank back into his chair after the moment of apprehension, sighing.

“I was hoping that would work.” He shook his head dejectedly, a scowl creeping into his face and voice. “I get the sense that we might need him, eventually.”

“Jesus, Loki. So, what - your plan was to get me mad enough for a hulkout? And you thought now was the perfect moment? Here?” Banner gestured around their surroundings - to the low ceiling of the quin jet, the fragile equipment piloting their journey.

Loki’s head thunked against the wall as he melted back into the seat, shrugging listlessly. “I suppose I didn’t think that one through very well.”

“No, you didn’t.” Banner paced about the ship, wringing his hands together before he turned back to Loki, a hint of that previous anger emanating into his tone.

“Look, I know you miss him. And just because I don’t think he’s dead doesn’t mean I’m not worried about him - I don’t think I’ll ever stop worrying about him,” He paused, looking up to the ceiling - his face contorting as if he was having to force these words out.

“But don’t you dare take this out on me. Mourn, if you want. Get angry, get sad - but don’t you take this out on me just because I still have hope.”

“Hope.” Loki chuckled mirthlessly. “Hope is a fool's gamble, Banner.”

“Maybe.” Bruce swallowed, his features smoothing out as his eyes turned to the viewing window beside them. “But it’s a gamble I’m willing to take.”

[mulderist]

Everglow

Rated: NC17 || Smut/RST/First-Time || Words 2k+ || tagging @today-in-fic

Unspoken communication results in a less than standard night at a hotel after an assignment. Non-sexual touching leads to first-time sex. (Written for the XF Fanfic Smut Exchange)

A comfortable silence. It was strange to feel so at ease and, god-forbid, actually feel happy. White lines zipped along the dark road in front of them and a tandem of headlights raced down in the opposite direction. They illuminated the interior of the rental car just long enough for her to see him smile. The radio held onto one of the last stations before they left the county and pushed further into the dark.

Hold me closer, tiny dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen

You had a busy day today

“Well, I’d say that’s pretty appropriate wouldn’t you?” Mulder asked while he adjusted his hands on the wheel, flexing his fingers as Elton continued another chorus. Scully grinned and shook her head then thought about how it felt to twirl and sway with him in that small club. Cher sang out about walking in Memphis as Mulder’s arm circled Scully’s waist, innocent like a high school dance. The megawatt smile that could have powered the whole room as he held her hand.

“Maybe the universe is sending us a message,” she coyly replied.

“You mean like our story isn’t over yet?” he playfully countered while turning down the volume on the radio. She hummed in response and shifted in the seat. Another set of headlights swept past, white lines continued their march to the horizon. She placed her left hand on the bench seat of the sedan and slid it across the rough microfiber closer towards the center. He reached his right hand down and linked his little finger around hers. She softened against the back of the passenger side, savoring the small connection. It felt different than so many of the other handholds and caresses they bestowed on one another. With this chaste gesture she realized he wasn’t there as a desperate lifeline; he wasn’t pulling her out of the dark into safety. He was there, simply sharing the same tender moment with her on a quiet highway.

----

Minutes passed by. The cool glass of the window against Scully’s cheek roused her; the radio had lost its signal miles ago resulting in the low drone of tires on the road. Mulder slipped his hand from hers to stifle a yawn.

“I think I might find a place to stop for the night. I’m getting a bit of road hypnosis and you look like you could use some rest.”

“That might not be a bad idea.” She caught his yawn while brushing her hair behind her ears. The green highway signs offered little refuge for several miles, but eventually Mulder spied something of interest and pulled the rental over to the offramp. The first available hotel was a step up from their usual digs while on assignment. Scully offered to wait in the car while he went inside to check-in. She stared at her hands then knitted her fingers together. Her mind wandered back to the quiet moments on the drive. Snippets of conversations, Mulder’s chuckle when she offered a humorous comment about comic book monsters. The feeling of his finger wrapped around hers as their hands rested comfortably on the center seat.

The tide of arousal pulled at her center. She placed her hands between her knees and chided herself for feeling so eager so quickly. Her thigh muscles twitched as she squeezed them against her fingers. Not since their trip to Florida had she felt like this. Although, that night she only found satisfaction by her own hand, fantasizing about his touch as he traced the curves of her body. Scully let her eyes close briefly, remembering the need and desire to be with him that night; conference be damned. And now here she was again, in another rental car, another road trip, and another hotel.

What was taking Mulder so long? Maybe there are no vacancies.

Right on cue, he left the front desk and walked around the front of the car. Mulder got in and started to slowly drive away.

“The room is down on this side of the building. I’ll see if I can get a spot out front.”

“Glad they had something available,” Scully said after clearing her throat. Mulder parked the car and cut the engine. The night air was crisp with a gentle breeze rolling down from the highway. They retrieved their well-travelled overnight bags from the trunk and headed for the door. Scully presented her palm to accept her room key, however Mulder stalled then dangled a solitary key from his index finger. She cocked her head and started to say something but he beat her to it.

“I used my credit card. Didn’t want this little side trip to show up on the Bureau expense report.”

“Mulder, I —” Her voice trailed off. That high level of unspoken communication was making its presence known.

He entered first and turned on the light to survey the modest room, she followed close behind. He tossed his bag on the second bed and she set hers down in the same spot. Mulder stood dangerously close then suddenly reached for her cheek. The topography of Scully’s face could be charted if he was blindfolded. He adored the angles of her cheekbones, the slope of her nose, the bow of her lips. Even in the glow of a harsh yellow hotel lamp she was radiant.

Scully felt her cheeks flush and she leaned into his hand. A ragged exhale surprised her but he didn’t seem to notice. He continued his journey down along her neck, along her shoulder, and ending at her wrist. The brush of his fingers across the dorsum of her hand caused her to hold her breath. Mulder traced the lines of her delicate metacarpal bones with the pad of his middle finger ending at the space between her thumb and index finger. On instinct she turned her hand over and let him draw a line down her palm, charting a course over the heartline. Her skin felt electric under his touch. He then took her hand to his lips and slowly, tenderly, kissed each knuckle. Eyes never left hers, a lust-laden blink was the only thing that separated the connection. She uncurled her fingers from him and brought her hand to his cheek. Without hesitation, Scully pulled him close and firmly kissed his surprisingly soft lips. She had imagined how they would feel against hers. She wanted to be kissed to feel alive, to feel something other than fear and pain. She was tired of the kiss on the cheek, the traditional goodbye kiss, the one that was all too common when she was at the hospital. Now, she wanted to be kissed to feel renewed and loved.

“Wait, Scully, wait,” Mulder said breathlessly as he rested his forehead against hers. She held onto the back of his neck, smoothing the short tufts of hair.

“Why?” The question came fast and her eyes squeezed shut, focusing instead on the tight lines of his neck under her fingertips.

“If we do this... “ he whispered as he blessed her furrowed brow.

“I want nothing more than this; than you,” she answered with both hands framing his face. He pressed back to look at her, the glimmer of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Her thumbs moved to his lips and he pursed against them. Her chin lifted and she pulled him close, kissing him firmly. Oxytocin flooded her brain when his tongue danced with hers. His choreography was on point with subtle twists and turns. She felt like she was floating. She wanted more and boldly started to loosen his tie.

Suit jackets were hastily discarded. Mulder tugged at her ribbed shirt to release it from the waistband of her pants. She gasped when his hands slipped under the material and skimmed her waist then moved up her back. She worked to catch him up, fumbling with the buttons on his dress shirt but he pushed back, quickly pulling the stubborn garment over his head. It fell to the floor along with his tie. She removed her shirt and for a moment had a pang of modesty standing in front of him in a basic bra, wishing she had worn something with a little more lace. Her gaze washed over his torso, admiring him without the physician’s veil. Short fingernails traced the tracks of his abdominals and her soft downward gaze took notice of the generous hard-on straining against his pants.

Time slowed down as they embraced, lips met over and over. His fingers twisted lovingly in her hair. He leaned down and sucked on the side of her neck, the tip of his tongue caressed her throbbing pulse. His right hand cupped the soft fabric of her bra, the sweep of his thumb resulted in a perfectly puckered nipple. She felt a wonderful heat surge between her legs as he tasted her collarbone and nipped at her shoulder. Her knees quivered and her head rolled to the side, allowing him to guide the bra strap down her arm. He was rock hard against her lower abdomen. A mere breath was between them. She moved her hands to his hips though they didn’t stay long and instead ventured to stroke his cock.

“Ooh Scully,” Mulder sharply inhaled. He languidly licked his lips as she undid his belt and unzipped his fly. A well-trained hand caught him and teased the moist head. The ripples of his shaft graced her palm while she stroked, working like a fine-tuned piston. Soon she broke her rhythm thanks in part to his warm fingers pressing into her newly exposed left breast. Her stance wavered and she had to move to the bed, pulling him with her. Finally skin to skin. Lips had to connect once again. He brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek when he pulled away slightly.

“Touch me, Mulder,” she whispered. He gave a wry grin and eased her other breast out of the bra, watching her nipple stiffen when the cool air of the room hit her skin. She hummed sweetly while he toyed with the puckered skin of her areola, pinching the firm bud. He suckled and flicked her nipple with his tongue as she writhed underneath him. Her arms stretched overhead and gripped the bedspread, back arched slightly as he teased. His erection pressed into the valley of her hip and thigh. He echoed her subtle gyrations. Scully could feel the wetness spreading in between her legs. She desperately needed to undo her pants. Mulder took the hint and sweetly kissed her again before unfastening the small hook and working on the zipper.

Her belly hollowed as his hand slid down the front of her damp cotton underwear. Fingers brushed over her curls and dipped into the dewy slit.

“Yes…please touch me.”

His fingertips swirled, one became two when he found the button nestled in damp soft folds. She held her breasts, kneading the soft skin like a kitten. A gasp escaped when his pace quickened and his attention focused on plunging in and out of her pussy. Her hips rolled, the sound of slick skin, the musky perfume of her sex.

“God yes...” she exclaimed, trying to keep her ass pressed into the mattress while a shudder travelled down her core. She knew the buzzer was about to go, her back tingled and her clit throbbed. Her knees wanted to spread further. He reached down to stroke himself for a moment; high on desire. She would have taken over but sparks were collecting at the corners of her eyes.

“Come honey,” he cooed, “Come for me.”

“I want to…make me come,” she replied, “Make me…oh!” The alarm sounded and she let go; hips bucked against his hand as he tamed the hurricane. Moans of pleasure were stifled with her shoulder. She came back down to earth. He kissed her and rubbed his cock with her arousal. Her pants lowered further to give him room to enter. Lips parted, muscles twitched. He filled her up so well; as full as she could be.

“You feel amazing,” he exhaled. She hummed and her eyes closed heavily. He thrusted gently and she joined his rhythm. They drank each other up. Another wave was ready to crash. So many nights she had wanted this exact moment; a simple fuck on a hotel bed. Being half-dressed was even more sensual than if she was naked. Their clothes bunched and bundled, she dug her nails into his hips coaxing him to go faster. He gave a warning.

“I’m so close. I don’t want to…”

“It’s okay. Do it…god do it…”

That was all he needed to hear. He buried himself to the hilt, fucking her hard and deep. She held on as long as she could while he cried out and released. A final tremor sent her over the edge and she tumbled into a screaming orgasm. Her voice sounded different in her ears after hitting that plateau of pleasure.

Mulder smoothed her hair and traced a sweet caress along her cheek while they caught their breath. Slowly, he shifted to her side, soft and spent. She adjusted her pants and lay her head on his chest, arms tucked in close. He embraced her; always the safety net, the light in the dark, the hand to hold. Scully felt a deep vibration against her ear as he said something to the top of her head. She lifted slightly.

“What did you say?” a weary voice asked. He swallowed then said after a beat,

“I said…god, I love you.”

“Mulder…” She felt her cheeks go hot and her heart beat faster

“Just wanted you to know,” he said with a stroke of her freckled shoulder. She untucked an arm and draped it across him, burying her head further in his chest, pulling him closer. With a content exhale she replied,

“And I love you.”

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Kingdom Collisions XVII

masterlist; my links

CW: blood, death

Phew, when i first started this fic (way back when in august last year, i think) i didn’t expect it to become a multi-chapter nor did i expect it to go in literally any of the directions it went in. with each new chapter the boys cooked up something different and apparently more and more dark. nonetheless this has been one of the most absolute fun, exciting, and rewarding fics i’ve ever put out there because 1. i just kind of did whatever i liked with it (plot holes be damned) and 2. because the interaction i got from this fic was mind-boggling. Every plot twist brought a gasp, an angst gremlin, and a sweet supporter to my doorstep (i cant name anyone because you all swopped roles continuously). 

when i started writing this chapter tbh i was dreading it because how on earth do i get myself out of the sheer monstrosity that i dug myself into in the last one? but i wrote some words and even though they were all wrong and it was only seven hundred of them at least i had written something you know? but then i was at the beach and the ocean water was shoving itself into my lungs and the salt was stinging my eyes and i literally couldn’t have been happier if i tried and suddenly i just kind of knew what i wanted to write... or rather i knew i wanted to write and these troublesome princes knew how they wanted their story to close. yes, indeed, close. somehow, without me realising it, we kind of got to the last chapter. i truly didn’t think this would be it but with each word i put down it just kept drawing closer and closer to a close. and i can’t force this fic to be anything but what it is. So, my dear ones, this is the last chapter of Kingdom Collisions. thank you for coming along, i hope with all my heart you enjoyed it even a fraction as much as i did. I love these Princes so hard and Nish, Gretch, and A can tell you how sad i was to see them end. Nonetheless, please enjoy!

Since it’s been a hot minute since the previous chapter, here’s a recap:

Prince Jason Grace stumbles from the mouth of the arena and falls to his knees in front of the platform.

“Kill him Perseus.” A voice glimmers around him, leaking in through the ringing in his ears.

“Come home Prince,” That voice lilts, “Do not die so far from the sea.”

Jason looks up at him, blue eyes hazy, a dagger loose in his clasp. “Hello Prince.”

Percy steps down from the platform, and takes the dagger from his husband’s hands. It is almost sickening how easily he gives it over.

The crowd stomps its feet: they are ready for blood; they are ready for slaughter.

He holds the dagger up, making sure it glints in the sun. And then he draws his husband close until there is nothing between their bodies, not space, not even air.

“Let’s go home my love.” He whispers. “We will not die so far from the sea.”

Prince Perseus Jackson brings the blade down.

[image has alt text]

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

Prince Perseus Jackson knows he’s going to die today. It is not a feeling, or a morbid premonition. It is the cold, hard truth. If he does not the world will continue to suffer for it. And what kind of prince would he be if he allowed his people to suffer? His father would say he’d be a coward. His father did not know the meaning of the word until he screamed as a blade sunk into his chest. Percy wonders how a man made from the Rivers themselves, can die by knife. He supposes when you spend long enough pretending to be human, you die like one too.

All the same Percy must take his last breath today, before the setting sun has managed to hide for the night. Before the darkness can wrap around his bones like cigarette smoke, and keep him trapped once more. 

But first, Percy must kill his husband. 

The crowd is violent; their need for bloodshed a hyena’s cackle in his head. He cannot keep them out. He cannot keep them at bay. It drives into his blood, makes every dangerous drop slosh through him, as wild as the rivers of his father. As wild as the blue eyes staring him down.

Perseus Jackson looks at his husband, barely an inch apart, so close it seems no room is left for air. He can’t breathe, so it must have been pushed away, pushed out. Those blue eyes, as striking as the brilliant sky above them, are looking at him with so much… sorrow, love, joy, rage? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know and it terrifies him. He knows and that scares him more. Prince Jason Grace is looking at him with delight and it makes him want to sin.

“I will find you again, my love.” His lips brush the sensitive skin of his ear. He feels that beautiful body shudder underneath him.

The musician’s box echoes with the notes of the wind, a melody that rackets around in his head, bouncing off the walls of his memories. He has died to this tune many times. Died as a king, and a peasant, and a squallor, and a whore, and every form of human scum and royalty alike. They all bleed the same in the end. All die with regrets on their tongue, and the unconquering falsehood of love in their hearts, as if that alone is enough to save them. He has never been safe from death. But love saves him all the same. He wonders if he will die again.

“I will not be lost.” Jason whispers back, so quiet, so full of sweet darkness.

Percy slams the blade into his Jason’s heart and watches as the light from beckoning eyes morphs into a smile that surrenders the world. He doesn’t acknowledge the warmth at his side. There is only his Prince, his husband, his other half, his, his, his. 

“I will be waiting.” Jason Grace grins. Jason Grace dies.

Already he can feel the absence of his other. It is not a dull ache, nor a sharp one. It is not really an ache at all. Rather as if a veil has been placed over him, leeching the world of colour and light. Leeching him of any goodness. What is a destroyer, without his healer?

The Prince of Mare pulls the knife out of his husband’s chest and holds it up to the crowd. His smile dances, violence coating the angles of his face like a liquid mask. The colosseum responds in vigour, chanting his name, chanting the name of Princess Piper Mclean, chanting victory as if they’ve won. Dust begins to settle at his feet, settle then jump as they jump, then settle once more. And endless dance. He knows the score by heart. 

“What you have witnessed today my good people,” The woman in power stands in her box, surveying the scene before her with triumph in her brown, glinting eyes. “Is the beginning of forever, again.”

The people cheer, clap, stomp their feet, make the stone underneath them quiver.

A drop of blood falls to the floor.

“We have completed what our ancestors could not. We have made sure that the threat— ” She sneers at them; at him in his bloodied rags, and the husband still in his arms, limp and fast growing cold. “The threat of Our Downfall may never rise from the ashes.”

The deafening sound of celebration is a vice around his throat. He wants to rip the air from their lungs, make their joy a noose around their necks. They celebrate the loss of a life as if it were the birth of a thousand more; they celebrate the death of his husband as if they had won the war. But they have never seen war. And his past selves, rushing up to him in these moments, like reeling pictures, smile at the prospect. They seem to gather in his mind, grinning with endless terror and say, so very softly, “You think this is war? We’ve only just begun.”

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

“My people,” Piper’s voice is a lull in the tides, a blind comfort to distract from the storm ahead. “We have severed the wings of a phoenix so it may never rise again.”

The crowd stomps, he stomps with them. A fissure runs under his feet, small, unnoticeable. Blood drips down, down, down, into the cracks. There is nothing left for him here. He smiles, soft and small. It is a smile only he knows exists.

With a gentleness he does not possess for anyone else but the man before him he lays his husband down, wincing as the dusty platform touches that beautiful golden skin. But he does not have time to make it clean. To give him a worthy place to rest. He only has right now. Eternity is a second in itself.

And when Prince Perseus stands, straight and unburdened. He reveals the last piece in a twisted puzzle. For sticking out of his own side— the side his prince was pressed against— is a dagger of his own. One that is killing him slowly.

The people are still cheering, Princess Piper is still revelling in her glory. She looks ethereal up on her dais, every bit the goddess she craves to be. Her brown skin shines in the brightening sun, her black hair flowing down, down, down past her hips, swishing at her thighs. And the crown that sits on her head, perched there as if it was too scared to be trapped to such power, glints almost menacingly, jewels reflecting onto the people closest to her. To the woman at her side. Annabeth, sister to Jason, lover to Piper, and honorary daughter of Hekima, sees him. Sees all of him and goes as pale as the moon. She grabs her lover’s arm, points a shaky finger in their direction, at the blade in his side.

The look of horror on their faces is almost enough to make him laugh; it’s certainly enough to make him smile. He watches on as their plans unravel, remembering the deadly words Piper had said to him all those days ago. “Instead we will kill one of you and keep the other continually alive.” But what good would that do, if he had killed them both, if he made sure his blood was smeared across his husband’s wound; if he made sure his husband’s blood could not be used to heal them. He has become the destroyer they so badly wanted. 

Prince Perseus Jackson falls to his knees, at the symphony of a princess’s screech. And as he looks to his side, his fingers find the cool hand of Jason Grace. The sky is a lover’s blue. He closes his eyes. He finds his husband amongst the dead. And ever so slowly, the colosseum starts to crumble. For the blood from his wound seeps into the cracks running rivers of their own, and eats at the stone that holds the people, the power, the world. He has become his father. His mind is fill of his own stories, just like his mother. He feels the cold band on his husband’s finger. He becomes life.

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

The walls behind her turn to dust in slow motion. She sees particles fall, land at her feet in never-ending waterfalls. Her gaze tilts to the sky where she half expects to find it raining blue, as if the whole world would collapse on top of them. She can hear the screaming, she doesn’t known if it’s joy or fear. Sh doesn’t know if anyone has realised what’s just happened, if they know the true extent of her failure. 

“PIPER!” That voice is so far away, but it is one she recognizes. One she has loved since she was left on a lover’s bench ten years prior. “We have to go, we have to stop it from reaching the water.”

A pale hand gestures in front of her, to the crimson rivers speeding across the ground. They are the prettiest canals she’s ever seen. She wants to— 

“PIPER,” The time for shock has gone, and in it’s place is a violent need to save herself, to be saved. “We have to get out of here, this whole place is going to come down.”

When she looks to Annabeth, grey eyes bright with fear, she is struck with feeling so deep she fears she may drown. It wouldn't’ matter; she’ll be dead before she gets to submerge.

“My people,” Her voice is loud, blessedly steady, as she surveys the uneasy crowd who are only now noticing the red brooks bubbling up to meet them. “We must leave here at once. The colosseum is no longer safe. I urge you to go home to your famililes, to pack important things and make your way as far from the oceans and rivers as possible. Danger is here, and it is not a force we can fight.”

A thousand eyes look at her, emotions blatant on their faces ranging from denial, to anger, to fear, to the worst of them all, resignation. Those are the ones, she knows, who have lived through this before, in some way or the other. Whether in a past life, or the echo of their current one through stories carried down.

The ground underneath them shakes, making their feet stumble, their legs quiver. It is laughing at them, at the idea that they can escape this destruction. It has done this a thousand times before, it will do it a thousand more. The end has never been about them. They cannot escape it, no matter where they run, how hard they pray. And people are. Praying. They don’t know it is their gods who order this. Their gods who have no care for the lives of them when they can create a million more. In the end they are pawns to an endless game of chess. The first to be discarded, despite how hard they fight to prove useful. And Jason, her lover’s brother, and Perseus, her own ex lover, are soldiers sent to do their duty. Pawns themselves, maybe knights. But gods they have never been, and gods they will never become.

Annabeth’s hand is warm in hers as they race to their death. Her blonde curls fly behind her and Piper thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. And then the princess looks to her and she changes her mind. With each glance, each step, each squeeze of their skin, she changes and changes and changes. Until the beauty cannot be pinned to a single thing, until it is a tapestry continuously incomplete, of all the features that make up her love. If she— when, when she dies she will do it with this image in her mind.

And then they’re at the river, the one that feeds her kingdom, the one that runs into to the forest and branches to the five other kingdoms, before feeding into Perseus’s own and out to the ocean. There is no red tainting it’s glistening blue. They have time, maybe, just maybe they have time to save the only home they have ever known, the only one they ever will. 

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

Quickly, with a haste she has never seen, Annabeth pulls a single match from her pocket.

“Will you grant me permission, my love?” Her princess nods to the little stick.

There is only one way to stop a stream from turning towards a river. She nods. “For the kingdoms.”

“For the kingdoms.” The blonde echoes. She strikes the match.

Sunshine yellow flame bursts from the small head, and as it settles it turns orange, blue, goes back to yellow. Annabeth lets it fall to the floor.

And they both watch, flames dancing in their eyes, as the little match catches a dry leaf, which catches dry wood, which catches, and catches, and catches.

They clasp hands, look at each other. Piper runs a finger down a freckled cheek, skin already so warm from the blaze before them.

“Let us live.” Her princess whispers.

They jump into the river. The forest burns to an inferno behind them.

But there, trickling slowly, as if it has all the time in the world, is a single stream of blood. It creeps through the forest, turning already charring soil to nothing. The fire jumps over it, around it, beyond it. The fire does not stop it. 

A single drop of blood catches on a shard of blackened stick, once a match, and as the wind blows it carries the wood over over over. It lands in the river. The stick floats away. The blood spreads wide.

And two princesses, still hand in hand, frantically swimming for their life, start to crumble to ash, like the forest they had left to burn.

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

Perseus Jackson opens his eyes to sky blue, ice blue, saviour blue. And he cannot help but smile.

“Where have you been, my love?”

“Just had to take care of some things before i could join you.” He reaches up a hand to caress a golden cheek, warm and reddening under his touch.

“Are we finally free?” That voice is so soft, full of angled hope.

“Till the next time.” He sees that hope startle and shape before him, as if it can bend to fit around steeled will.

“What shall we do while we wait?”

“As long as we are together,” He brushes back a lock of gold. “It does not matter to me.”

“Might i suggest, staying here for the next decade at the very least?” A laughing reply, one that heats him to his bones.

“Your wish,” His green eyes sparkle dangerously, deliciously, “Is my salvation.”

“Wicked, wicked being.” Lips find his, press to him. It is so familiar, and somehow new all at once. As if the shadows they are made from need to get used to the light within them once more. As if they have not done this for a millennia, longer. 

“I cannot help it when i’m with you.”

“And you are always with me,” Those blue eyes set him on fire.

“Yes,” He says simply. He touches the golden chest, the heart within. His heart.

“What shall we be in the next life?” The question is soft against his skin, raising bumps across his arms.

“I think i shall be a painter,” He muses, lips falling to a shoulder. They trace their way up, catching on collarbones and the crook of a neck, and the dimple behind an ear. “And you, my sweet? How do you intend for us to meet?”

“I think i shall like to be your nude model.” That grin is enough to cause a flush through his form.

“And who will be our heroes?”

“The queen of course.” The blonde’s voice gets conspiratorially low, “I’m her favourite servant you see, and she cannot bear the idea of anyone else seeing me naked.”

He cannot hold in his laughter, the mind of his other half an endless stream of amusement. “And how do we intend to end it this time?”

“That’s up to you dear one.” The being curled into him smiles, “I can only heal, and you know i will only heal you.”

“You make me such a villian.” His expression is violent, and beautiful, so so beautiful.

“We have never been anything else.” 

He stares into the face of eternal love and is struck by the thought that it is all for him, that it has only ever been for him. He cradles a golden face in his hand, and with a deep unhurried breath, kisses Jason.

For the infinite time in his endless life, Perseus tastes fire.

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Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@nishlicious-01 : to Nish for loving this fic harder than anyone, and for loving me harder still.

@queen-of-demons-and-hell : to Gretch for always being there even though were many countries, and many timezones apart

@leyontheway : to Ley for the endless and unwavering support and for making me smile no matter what

@sparkythunderstorm : to Lily for the continuous love and the wonderful comments

@comradefurudate : to avatar for the hilarious interactions and for loving this the way you did. Your comments made my day.

@aalikun : to ali for the theories and the comments that made me smile so hard my cheeks hurt

to A : you don’t have a tumblr account but you asked if you could read one of my fanfics and i sent you this one and you sent me back a 3 minute long voice note telling me every reason you loved it and i cannot begin to explain to you how much it means to me. i listen to the vn all the time. i love you.

and to every single one of you who liked, and/or commented on this fic: you are special to me in every way that matters and i think about you all the time.

[thicctails]

Summer Of Whump Day 13 [Forgotten/Sacrificed]

Ω

 Omega did dream this time, now safely beyond the edge of death’s veil.

 She was moving very fast, and she could feel a thundering heartbeat beneath her touch. Steam and rusted metal filled her vision, and she got the sinking feeling that she was being chased. Footsteps pounded against the metal floor, never faltering, never slowing down. As she rounds a corner, the dream shifts.

 Now, she’s in a small, windowless room. The walls look like they are made of stone, and the ground she is sitting on is hard. She can’t move her wrists, and her vision in her right eye is poor, like she’s squinting that eye. She’s leaning against something smooth, soft, and breathing. She can hear the sound of that same heartbeat, now slower. She hears a sound, a muddled voice it seems. It sounds concerned, but she can’t make out what’s being said. Omega blinks, and the dream is changing again.

 Now she’s flying, a cool mist of cloud rolling over her skin. Someone is holding onto her waist, their grip tight like they’re afraid to fall. Something is on her face, a mask she thinks. The world tilts upwards, and she sees stars. The vast expanse of space is before her now, and although she is not in a ship, she doesn’t feel afraid.

   Omega’s eyes slid open slowly, the weight of sleep threatening to close them again. The room is quiet, the sound of soft snores occasionally disturbing the calm. She shifted a bit, wincing at the ache in her neck. That was going to take some getting used to. No more turning her head quickly.

 Hunter’s chest rose and fell in a calm rhythm, and she takes a moment to bask in the fact that they were all alive and okay. The events of yesterday were still fresh in her mind, and Omega doesn’t feel like risking a nightmare by going back to sleep. So she simply lays there, content to just exist in the moment. Their lives are so full of action and danger, so the break is welcome.

 The embrace she’s in right now is so comforting. She feels like nothing in the world could possibly harm her here. Smiling, she snuggles into Hunter’s chest, resting her eyes but not quite falling back asleep.

 “Honk!”

 Her eyes fly open.

 She feels Hunter shift, hears him grumble and crack an eye open. She holds still, not sure if she wants him to wake up and see what Pillow is doing in here, or if she wants him to get more sleep because she knows he needs it.

 He sleepily scans the room, then closes his eyes again, shifting his arms so that she can use them as pillows if she wants. Omega wants to settle down again; it’s just Pillow, he’s not a threat! Yet something keeps her awake and alert. She stares at the door, an odd feeling forming in her chest. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tentatively reached out with the Force. Her connection with it is strong, but she is untrained, and thus it takes her a minute to actually figure out how to do what she wants. She starts small, feeling the soft glow of life that comes from everyone in the room. Then, she pushes outwards, searching for life beyond the confines of the room.

 She finds it, but it isn’t just Pillow that’s roaming the ship’s abandoned halls.

 This time, there is no questioning whether or not she want’s Hunter to get up. She shakes his shoulder, fear entering her eyes. The man wakes instantly, looking at her in concern.

 “What’s wrong?” Hunter asked.

 “Crosshair’s coming!” Omega whispered.

 Hunter gets up as soon as the words leave her mouth. Omega tries to reach out to Pillow as Hunter rouses the others, to communicate with him across their bond. It’s all she can do; her injuries prevent her from moving too much. She feels Pillow’s emotions, he’s full of excitement and pride. He doesn’t understand the danger he’s bringing their way.

She projects her own emotions into the bond. Fear, hurt, concern. She feels confusion ripple through their connection. She sends the feelings again, stronger this time. She feels a flicker of understanding, then a wave of nearly overwhelming guilt.

 ‘It’s too late.’ Omega realizes. ‘He’s already figured out where we are.’

 “Hunter?” She whines, shivering a bit. Crosshair had spared her before, but she has no idea what sort of mental state he’s in now. “’m scared.’

 “It’ll be okay. We’ll protect you.” Hunter soothes, lifting her up and handing her to Tech. “Get her back to the ship. We’ll cause a distraction.”

 Omega leans against Tech as the younger clone takes her from Hunter. His presence is a source of comfort, and she hides her face in his chest. He has his plastoid armor on, so he isn’t as soft as she would like, but she knows he needs it, especially right now.

 Soon they were moving, Tech darting down the hallway one way while the rest of the group goes the other way. They hadn’t been running for very long before the sound of footsteps became audible. They were too fast and close together to be Crosshair’s, so the duo is only mildly surprised when Pillow comes around the corner. He honked loudly when he spotted them, rubbing against Tech’s leg. He let out a series of short, sad honks, his way of apologizing. Omega could feel his sincerity through their bond.

 “It’s okay Pillow, you didn’t know Crosshair was trouble. Think you can get us out of here?” She asks, reaching down to pet the amphibian.

 Pillow bobbed his head and started off down the hallway he’d just come from. Tech hurried after him, relying on the sound of Pillow’s soft honks when they ran into a patch of corridor that didn’t have any functioning lights.

 Suddenly, Pillow yelped, falling back into Tech and Omega. The sudden weight tripped Tech, which caused him to drop Omega. She yelled in pain, her back flaring with white-hot agony. She grit her teeth and pressed her forehead into the cold, dusty floor, trying to find something to focus on aside from the pain.

 She lifted her head when she heard the sound of slower, heavier footsteps. She could just barely make out Crosshair’s form as he approached, a sharp coldness rolling off him in waves.

 She’d always wondered why Kamino had seemed so cold after the order had gone out.

 He raised his rifle, aiming at Tech. The downed clone was unaware of the danger, the force of Pillow being kicked into him having knocked his senses loose for a minute. Fueled by fear, Omega jolts to her feet, tears slipping down her cheeks as her melted muscles and blistered skin were agitated.

 “Don’t hurt him!” She said, stepping in front of Tech. The barrel of the blaster sits right in front of her heart. If he fires, even a stun round, she’ll be dead.

 “I’m the one the Kaminoans are interested in. A Force-sensitive clone is much more valuable than a rouge enhanced one, right?” She asks, praying that she’s right, and that her life can be used as a bargaining chip. She can hear Tech coming back to himself, and she knows that she needs to hurry.

 “If you let him go, I’ll go with you willingly. We can be gone before the others give you trouble, just- just don’t hurt Tech!” Omega pleads.

 Crosshair doesn’t speak, and for a moment Omega thinks that he’s just going to shoot her and kill Tech anyways. But then he lowers his rifle, and she hears his gruff voice.

 “Let’s go.”

 She sighs, her body quivering as she tries to step forward. She wobbles, her body not ready to support her weight in motion yet. Before she can fall, Pillow is there, ducking down and nudging her onto his back. He looks at her questioningly, like he’s asking her if she’s sure she wants to do this.

“Go, Pillow. We don’t have a choice.” She says softly, collapsing onto his broad back. His rapidly increasing size had been a nuisance when it came to sleeping and feeding him, but now she was infinitely grateful for it.

 Pillow whined but obeyed, galloping after Crosshair. Behind them, Tech had realized what was happening.

 “OMEGA!” He cried. “No,no,nononono! Crosshair get back here!”

 Pillow looked back, honking sadly, but didn’t slow down. He understood that what they were doing was dangerous, and it probably wouldn’t end well, but if he tried to escape, they wouldn’t get very far. Rusted metal and sparking wires flew by as he raced down the corridor, Omega holding on for dear life as they followed behind a sprinting Crosshair.

 Soon, they reached an opening in the ship. It was a jagged hole, torn open by some weapon during the war. Crosshair spoke into his comlink as Pillow slunk behind him, taking care not to cut himself on the sharp metal. On his back, Omega twitched in pain, crying quietly into Pillow’s neck.

 “I need a pick up at my coordinates. I have two captives with me, one human, and one…” He looked at Pillow, who glared at him, “overgrown lizard.”

 Pillow snorted and stomped his foot, looking over his shoulder when the movement caused Omega to whimper. Crosshair looked over at her as well, his eyes widening a bit when he saw the state she was in. Blood was soaking through her bandages, and in the light of the early morning, he could see the bruises on her neck.

 “And get the medical bay ready. One of the captives requires medical attention, and we need her alive.” He adds.

  Pillow nodded, agreeing with the armored human. He didn’t like the man, hated him actually, but at least he wasn’t being stupid. Warm One was hurt bad, and she reeked of fear and pain. He licked her head, trying to bring the human fledgling some comfort.

 He was so close to being ready to metamorphosize. He just needed a bit more energy and time, and then he’d be able to help Warm One. He’d bust them out of whatever confinement this human was going to put them into.

 He’d save her. He’d save her, and then he’d destroy anyone who had dared to hurt her.

[moon-lixie]

City of Love - Kim Seungmin

There was only one city he would ever call the city of love and that was the place where he had the pleasure to not only meet but fall in love with you as well. 

Today he played a sorrowful tune, one that brought your memory back like how the waves bring seafoam to the shore, and he wished for nothing else than turning towards the crowd and finding you there.

genre: mild angst and fluff

word count: 2.579k

song: Mia and Sebasian’s Theme - Justin Hurwitz (slowed)

The light grew brighter above his head, pooling at his feet and shining decisively atop the keys of the piano that reflected his solemn expression. The rest of the world became a dark pit of black around him, there was nothing his eyes could comprehend outside the glow of yellowish white. 

Taking a deep breath he started playing, fingers hovering gently on the black and white rectangles that pulled at the strings of his hearts. 

He felt his fingers tremor for a second and he pressed his eyes shut with force to calm himself. This was no time to hesitate, not when he had gotten this far, not when he knew this song by heart, not when the spotlight was on him. 

A soft exhale tarnished the black surface in front of him, bringing back a distant memory that seemed to match perfectly with the melancholic melody his fingers worked hard on bringing to life. 

For a split second he was far away from the stage that burdened him so greatly, the sand caressed the soles of his feet and a familiar laugh made his heart ache with such intensity that breathing became troublesome. 

Blinking rapidly he managed to regain consciousness of the sheets that stood as a guide for his fingers that moved with pure instinct; still, he liked to bring the sheets just to feel more confident that there would be no mistakes, just like he had once loved to bring you along when he played to give himself a sense of security. 

It was foolish of him, turning to the crowd and trying to look for you when he had to concentrate, and when the veil of darkness brought to him by the greatness of that stage, robbed him from knowing who sat on what seemed to be endless rows of seats. 

He knew it wasn’t the time to fill his chest with guilt and let his heart touch the ground at how heavy it felt, but he couldn’t help while standing where he had always wanted to. You would’ve been happy for him, he could picture the bright smile that would’ve flooded the whole place with such light that he could allow himself to relish on your features as he played from up there. 

His right hand crossed over his left one, reaching for some keys that wished to add a sorrowful shade to the melody. And it wasn’t the expected note that greeted his ears, it was your humming that instead installed itself deep within his mind. 

Blinking twice, he suddenly laid atop some white sheets whose texture appeared to be familiar to his fingertips. The darkness had been replaced with a golden light coming in from the small windows sprawled around the room.

The white walls gave the room a cosier feeling as they delimited the small space and combined with the cerulean of the window doors. Everything that held colour inside the room stood out as if it had been carefully planned to do so. 

Your humming became clearer as everything started to lose more sense to him, and right before he had the chance to make his way out of the bed agitated, the wooden door opened and revealed your cheerful silhouette.

“Are you still in bed?” you asked incredulous, a pinch of amusement mingling in the air that carried your words to him.

His lips parted and he made an effort to try to answer, but air completely left his lungs as you walked towards his figure and lay right where you could snuggle into his chest. 

Time seemed to stop as he became aware of only his rapid beating heart and the warmth that your touch brought upon his figure. That’s when he understood that he wasn’t really there by your side.

If this was a memory he couldn’t tell when it happened, and if it was a mere mirage of what he seemed to truly desire, he just prayed that it lasted for long enough to soothe the aching pain of his heart. 

Chaste kisses were left on his cheek by the softness of your lips and for the very first time he uttered a sound; he giggled, because for a second he was reminded of the joy he once rejoiced in.

Hugging you close, he made the effort to try and take in as much of your scent as it was enough for the rest of eternity. Luckily you didn’t question his overly affectionate attitude - one he rarely displayed- allowing him to enjoy this ephemeral moment as much as it was possible. 

Once you escaped his embrace and he was forced to stand from the cozy pile of sheets, his feet touched the cold floor, sending a shiver to travel up his spine. 

Carefully, he walked towards the window where the amicable city extended itself for the joy of his eyes. He sighed in acknowledgement; things started making more sense now that he recognised himself to be back to the only place he would dare call home. 

The place where he had been raised was kilometers away from where he stood -in his mind at least- and it still couldn’t compete with the place he adored with such determination. There, inside the white walls he started to remember clearly, he had loved with an intensity that left his affection staining every corner of the place. 

Your paths had stumbled on a particularly sultry afternoon in the only city he would ever dare call the city of love. Quick smiles were exchanged as you had both been in a hurry to simply live your days in the searing routine of always, but there had been an unspoken hope to find each other again, and that’s what brought the two of you to meet at the same place the day after. 

Without much hope he had been waiting for over an hour, leaning on the grey stone wall that lessened his flushed state, and staring down at the sea that was still a bit too far away for his liking. 

The sea’s blue tones stared back at him with a promise to deliver the fresh breeze he hadn’t met often in the streets filled with people he wandered every single day. It danced slowly yet harsh and threatening with a presence that couldn’t be missed. 

His wait hadn’t been excessively long but for a hopeful heart it had felt like an eternity and a bit more. But the wait was more than worthy once he caught a glimpse of your curious orbs scanning the whole area for what he later knew to be his caramel strands. 

You were in Thessaloniki because it carried with it all of your childhood memories, he was simply there because some wishful notes had brought him there, looking for more opportunities to play. 

The moments he spent with you hadn’t been short-lived but they did move fast; fast enough for him to recognise your home as his, fast enough to fall in love with every corner of the city because it ultimately meant falling in love with a piece of you, enough to convince him that even though you weren’t oxygen and he could live without you, he simply didn’t want to. 

Exiting the enigmatic room he now recognised to be yours, he was met with the familiar sight of the small living room area that shared space with a small table for four standing right in front of the door that led to the kitchen. 

Closing his eyes he let out a sigh of complete and utter content; it had been so long since he felt at home in the way that he did there. The various pots laying around were a telltale sign that you were the owner of the place, along with the lavender scent that escaped from the freshly washed clothes sitting on a pile.

Some tears threatened to spill from the corners of his eyes but he was quick to push them away, after all, he wanted to enjoy this second more than he wished to spend it  crying over what no longer was his. 

Your hands slithered around his waist, head soon resting against his back. His breathing became steady, his lids heavy with a new kind of tiredness that he had never experienced before, his hands finally reached for yours, fingers intertwining and bringing indescribable bliss to his heart. 

His eyes finally closed, overpowered by the relief that it brought him to be in your presence, and once he opened them again your touch was gone and the picture that sprawled in front of his eyes was different but equally welcomed. 

The sun was setting, painting the sky with a tinge of orange that turned into a light blush towards the end; sand carried his feet, water threatening to bring seafoam at the tip of his toes; fresh air filled his nostril with the briny aroma the beach always had to offer.

If the other moment had been nothing but a hallucination he couldn’t be certain, but this was a memory he often came back to; it would be a crime for him to forget about it. 

There was hesitation in his movements as he turned to his left, because he knew you would be standing there with tears staining your cheeks and reflecting the mesmerizing aura of the sea. 

A soothing hand rubbed circles on your back, and even though there was an indignated look furrowing your brows, you didn’t move away from his touch. 

Resentment shone in your eyes once you finally looked in his direction, he could never forget the sour tang that danced at the back of his mouth once you gave him that look. But… What could he do? He had been waiting for an opportunity like that his whole life, it would’ve been stupid not to accept it, right?

Not once had he regretted his decision, not even on the loneliest and coldest nights that he spent in foreing rooms, not even when the spotlight was given to someone else as he played in the dark. But experiencing everything over again so vividly made him question himself about the options that had once laid unanswered in front of him.

After some thought he reached the same conclusion he had reached back then, he would never dare regret the decision that had given him what his passion had seeked for an eternity. And deep inside he knew you didn’t either, because even though there was a small amount of anger on your pupils, he knew for a fact that you were mad at him leaving rather than taking the decision to follow his dreams. At the end of the day you had wished to be far away from him as he wished to be away from you, not in the slightest.  

His hands cupped your cheeks and he leaned forward to plant on your lips a kiss of longing mixed with tears. Because he had started crying at some point, way after his heart had cracked ever so slightly promising to shatter completely in the near future. 

You kissed him back and it all dawned upon him; he was so madly in love with you that he had spent every single day grieving since he had left your side. 

What a sad predicament he was stuck in; he wished to kiss you for an eternity more and then promise you to come back soon. But this was a memory and so it proceeded as it had been on that specially doleful sunset. 

Not quite realising what was going on he had let go of your face, grabbing your hands instead and starting to dance along to the music he kept dearly in his heart, right beside where you were. 

At first you seemed almost wary of his movements but in no time you had melted against his figure, allowing him to guide you in the slow and pensive dance. 

His eyes closed once again as he tried to focus on the feeling of your warmth pressed against his, and as it started to wash away he knew that this moment had in fact been nothing but ephemeral reminiscing. 

Coming back to his consciousness he recognised the warm feeling of tears rolling down his cheeks as well as the soft movement of his hands that had not even once stopped playing the song that had elicited the trance that wrapped him around his memories. 

The melody slowly came to a stop, carried by the notes he knew to be the right ones; at least he could be certain that he had played correctly while his mind had been far away. 

Once silence filled every millimeter of the room he looked away from the piano and towards where people sat listening to him. 

The blinding light dimmed completely only to be replaced with a warmer one filling the whole place, allowing him to appreciate some of the faces that seemed to share his sorrow as tears stained their skin. 

He moved on instinct to the front once the silence was cut short by the unbelievably loud applauses of the expectators; bowing once he expressed his infinite gratitude for being able to play one more time and deemed himself satisfied enough to leave the stage.

But when his sight travelled from the floor to the front he felt like he was back at the beach, the only difference was that this time your eyes weren’t full of resentment or sadness, there was a proud look painting your whole face.

More tears made their way down his cheeks, tracing the same path his melancholic ones had minutes before. Now he could say it with utter certainty; he didn’t regret his decision not in the slightest, but he did miss you.

He missed you; awfully and greatly, his every breath longed for you, every second he spent alive had been unknowingly not just for him but for you too, and he felt stupid for taking so long to accept it. 

Running down the carpeted floor, he didn’t stop until the reflection of the velvety red tone of your seat was more than visible on his pupils and you were finally in front of him, eyes holding an enigmatic look he couldn’t quite decipher but he deemed it unimportant once you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

Hugging you close he buried his face on the crook of your neck, taking in your scent for the second time in the last hour, almost sobbing at the realisation that it still remained the one he remembered. 

A new melody started playing then, not the result of his fingers but of the rapid beating of his heart becoming one with yours. And it was by far the most beautiful thing he had heard in his whole life, only beaten by the melody of your voice as you whispered in his ear, “I’m so proud of you, you did it.”

Exhaling deeply he moved slightly away from you, still holding you in his embrace. “We did it,” he corrected with a soft tone, because he wouldn’t have made it through half of it all if the memory of you hadn't kept him company. 

And who knew? Perhaps from now on it wouldn’t be just your memory but you; it seemed possible as you smiled softly at him and your eyes were filled with tears that threatened to spill without much warning. 

[rouiyan]

𝘖𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘛 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ the first volume of rouiyan’s debut series, till death do us part ⧐

synopsis: prince jeno is willing to trade his heart and soul for the throne. but lee jeno is also willing to trade his heart and soul for you.

✧ prince!lee jeno x crown princess!reader ✧ royalty au

✧ genres : fluff, angst ✧ word count : 7.0k ✧ disclaimers : brief descriptions of nudity (nothing sexual), allusions to sex (nothing explicit), malintent

✧ author’s note — i have a bad case of 'lee jeno will forever sit atop my bias list, unmoved,' but i guess this is just my way of coping. happy reading, loves.

back to series masterpost: till death do us part.

prince jeno will never be king. he will never sit atop the throne and his plates will always be silver, not gold. he shall be addressed with 'prince' prior to his name, always and perpetually, and until he's wrinkly, gray and even through the eons after he passes, he will only ever be 'prince jeno.' and this is only because of his stoic-faced brother, crown prince doyoung, who is always a step out of reach. born a little more studious, a little more driven, a little more empathetic, and born a little earlier. jeno knows this, his parents know this, even the kingdom is fully aware, that jeno is an example of what a future king should look like, but also that doyoung is the epitome. 

but if there's one thing that jeno excels at, in greater lengths than his brother, it'd be his sense of independence. at the ripe age of one, jeno was already on his own two feet, quick and adept. at three, he could eat solid foods and put on his clothes without aid. at six, he'd gone out of his parent's willingness to learn professional swordsmanship. and at ten, he'd sworn, one sudden night in a fit of angry tears, that he would never marry. he was ten, just touching on double digits, yet he'd never felt such fervent ardor for any one thing. lee jeno was convinced, by none but himself, that he was better off alone, in marriage, in friendships, in brotherhood, in family. he needn't no one but himself for he knew more than anyone, his own capabilities. but he also knew that no matter how ardent he was in his endeavors, he would never be king, at least, not of the southern kingdom.

as he draws himself straight, emerging from the black marbled carriage drawn by horses of black mane, he sets his sights on the scene that unfolds before him. the northern castle is fortified in pristine white; white footbridges, posterns, battlements, towers and pinnacles, and all that meets the eye upon first glance. in the moment, the sunlight is cascading down between passing clouds, reflecting across the rounds of the turrets like thick coils of luminescence. the castle itself, though, serves as a halo of radiance that rests above a breathing orchard which is then, set behind a pathed meadow of gently mowed lawns. there's a noticeable wind that courses through the splaying fields, gurgling the water of the moat he'd just passed and ruffling the wildflowers. jeno's spirits lift as clusters of petals lift from their stems, undulating with the chorus of the wind and wafting a delicate scent.

the prince is accompanied, on either side, by his guards dressed in black and gold accents, he himself, wearing an ensemble of a similar but more explored palette. he's guided by a man of the recipient kingdom, dressed contrastingly in white, that strides a few paces ahead of the arriving group through the orchard of dew-laden trees, their boughs offering bundles of green apples low enough to be grasped by the hand.

it's easy for jeno to momentarily forget the reason he is here in the first place.

he stands, that night, under a flurry of blinding crystal chandeliers and in line with others, kindred to his age and stature, first as a guest and foremost as a suitor. a man enters from the archway on the left, stout but tall in posture, and he announces, "arrival of crown princess y/n of the northern kingdom, followed by the king and the queen of the northern kingdom."

jeno fails to notice how his own breath hitches, but notices the man next to him stir at the sight of you. for good reason, he thinks. your dress is nothing short of seraphic, a layered piece of cream silk upon silk, built up into a fitted bodice and sweetheart neckline. a pearled bodkin swirls back the upper half of your hair, allowing the supple skin of your face to spangle in the light. it's from this he understands that the rumors of your beauty are not half moonshine. he disregards the soft features of your face and focuses on the way you curtsy, gentle but profound, for each member of the line, a bow sent in return for each adjacent man. jeno is careful in his observations but he cannot seem to find a fault in your movements, each tailored to the exact second. your eyes, your attention, your pleasant countenance, spends no more time on himself than the others. this is one of the two things he notes during the feast, the second being your father, the king, taking a blatant liking to whom he knows to be the crown prince of the western kingdom, na jaemin.

an alliance as solid as marriage between the western and northern kingdoms would perhaps be the turnover of the century, a threat to be reckoned with. the aqueducts of the western kingdom, the pure water it provides for the region and its people, paired with the flourishing arts and wealthy merchants of the northern kingdom would yield tremendous power over the agriculture of the eastern and the coal mines of the southern. jeno is sharp in calculations, his resolve shifting and with this, the arranged trip becomes a lot clearer in purpose. he stares ahead, knowing that he has little charm to offer to the miss, but imagining himself on the throne of the northern kingdom for a change. albeit, next to you, but he'll find it in him to deal with that in the long run and for the time being, divert his attention to the young highness.

dinner clears out and the party moves into the nearest drawing room in the west wing of the palace. the princess and her parents are escorted earliest and jeno utilizes the opportunity to make his objective clear with whom he sees as his primary source of competition, the prince of the western kingdom. prince jaemin has a smile gracing his face at all times, a habit that jeno has come to despise the more time he spends looking at. "how do you fair with the princess' impression, mind i ask?" jeno is taken off guard when the boy speaks first, now standing beside him, both gazes held up front instead of at each other. he rights his expression before replying curtly, "a sight to behold, no doubt, but i find her to provide amusing company withal."

"and is that all you see her for? an eyeful and merriment?" jaemin's tone gives way to how he's condescendingly sneering at the prince, in distaste by means of long forgotten familiarity.

jeno doesn't bother to answer for it is now within his knowledge, and the other's, that his intentions are unearthed. jaemin continues, his voice light but carrying heavy weight, "i'd hope that she chooses wisely. the princess deserves her throne." 

they are ushered from the vicinities of the dining parlor into the drawing room. the space is lit with candles that glint and flit across the pale green plaster, lined with golden leaf molding and wainscotting. the walls encasing the room are at least a bountiful twenty feet high, the echoes of thirty or so people colliding off the ceilings and upon the polished floor. nothing remarkable can be said besides the fact that the churnings in the pits jeno's stomach become painfully acute with each step you take towards him, and that he, in turn, can't help but take further steps back.

jeno returns to his assigned quarters without a word spoken to or from you. he does not feel belittled by the others, in fact, he knows his royal blood gives him a hefty advantage over the sons of advisors, distant cousins, older merchants, and others of far off importance. he retires into the crisp white sheets after he blows out the already billowing candle by the bedside. prince jeno only dreams of the throne, the only visions he has ever come to see behind the veil of his eyelids, but it's tonight that he's met with you. smile wide in response to something he's said, an act of jest maybe. he smiles along and towel dries your hair lovingly, brushes through it with tender fingers, lays you upon the bed in fluid motions. it's the morning after that he wakes up with no recollection. 

the following day is open to any and every pastime the palace has to offer, the only program being the ball in the evening, a gathering of formal introductions by footwork and intense stares. jeno doubts the princess will have enough stamina to follow through with thirty or so consecutive dances, each with different men, but he's adamant to be one of the few. he's ambling directionless in the castle, unaware of which halls leads to what and in the forefront of his mind, he's looking for you, as he is sure many others are as well. he stumbles upon a dusty balcony, evidently unused, by the landing of the fourth level that opens up to an expanse of flowers, rows and rows of varying genera, each blooming in full vigor. it's here that he finds you, frolicking among the reposeful blossoms, mirrors of your countenance that rise to your waist. from what he can see, you're walking alongside the small dirt paths with a brown haired boy of sun kissed skin. hand in hand you walk, and he can almost see the pleasant smile the boy adorns and the vibrancy you radiate. 

jeno learns from a maid with a adoring smile, that the boy is prince donghyuck of the eastern kingdom, the youngest son of four and therefore the most unfit match for a crown princess, a spiteful thought that jeno can't help but think. he also learns that he is the one boy, the one person, you've been the closest with since birth and that, out of anger and disapproval, your mother had invited the suitors for the purpose of serving you a more worthy husband and future king. the maid now sports a frightful expression, knowing that she had crossed her bounds by oversharing. jeno is glad though, and reassures her that the secret is safe with him.

he dresses accordingly for the ball, and while many of the fellow suitors donned garments of white to match your family's signature, jeno cannot find a single piece of his that holds the same hue. the color black oozes from the lapels of his pressed suit jacket, from the tie and shirt underneath. the color is second nature to him, one of his own family, and he gives it no thought.

perhaps it's the color, though, that catches your eye that night because you prance over to him not a half hour after the ball commences. kind eyes that feel so welcome on his skin, and though the churns and froths have resurfaced in his gut, he offers his hand in the first and last dance of the night. you say yes to both but the last is when he starts to chip off the guise of royalty to reveal the ramblings of a young girl.

"i'm not in love with him, most certainly not, but i feel strongly that if i were ever granted a say in marriage, it would not be of anyone in this room, no, i would marry my dearest companion." jeno fails to admit that the smooth vibrations of your voice are enough to set fire to his resolve, the purpose behind your hand on his shoulder and his around your waist. 

he draws you in, "and why not marry for love?" though he's sure he doesn't mean to.

"and why not should my love for a close confidante count? is it not love all the same?" you pull from him and jeno follows in step of the music to twirl you back into his embrace, just the way a prince should.

"i believe the love you speak is of the head," jeno counters. the ball is in his court, but he pays it no attention, sincere in obtaining an answer, "i am asking why you should not marry for love of the heart?"

"of the heart," you repeat to yourself, an utterance that jeno finds so endearing but cannot bring himself to immerse in. "i've yet to encounter such an emotion. may i ask, has the prince himself ever held such affection towards another?"

he chuckles, "i only know of once where another held my gaze captive. i know little of her, yet i can speak quite arduously on her behalf."

"what a sight she must be," you muse, partially uninterested now that your partner has declared the purpose of his attendance entirely political by speaking of his one true love whilst in your presence.

prince jeno stops, the hand of his on your back slots for more support and he lowers your figure down by the waist, hie eyes never leaving yours and your noses touch, "yes, you are quite the sight." 

prince jeno's passed the golfing greens, the rose gardens, the hiking trails, and the fencing grounds, but he has yet to find something that catches his eye, something he has never seen. as a southern kingdom native and royal, the northern kingdom is easily foreign territory. the air is clear here, there's no soot to brush off when you head inside, and a step outside the walls of the palace, he knows he'll find artisan markets that run for miles instead of coal sites. the artisan markets, he thinks, is where he wants to go. 

he's just tipping into the edge of the thick forest that lines the southeastern bounds of the estate when his ears pick up on the babble of a creek. jeno's quick to brush through the creepers and ramblers until the trees give into an expanse of open air. the creek he'd thought he heard is in actuality a wide bathing pool, the water a clear green. he spots a level bronzed rock on which you lay, bare-skinned, the direct sunlight engulfing your figure in glorification. quickly, he diverts his eyes and clears his throat to announce his presence. you're also quick to your feet at the sound, scrambling to grasp at your robes strewn about. 

to your surprise, the man, whom you've now identified as the second prince of the coal mines, has not left and is simply standing still, his back turned to you. it's now you that clears your throat and he understands well enough by turning back around to face a clothed you, the flames of his cheeks withstanding. 

"it's quite alright, you know, nothing to be embarrassed about." he hums in response and you proceed with your thoughts, "but i'd like to affirm it was by chance, was it not?"

jeno clasps his hands behind his back, willing his eyes to yours, "surely by chance, i would no- never- not dare, such intentions are not-" he's cut off by your chuckles, light and airy, like bouts melancholy chords to his ears. the prince, a boy who had been schooled by only the finest etiquette scholars of the region, finds himself blundering for words. jeno is undeniably embarrassed by now, but his eyes soften as you take steps towards him, fingers fumbling to tie your robes shut. 

the heat in his cheeks is still very noticeable but his shortness of breath is not. the prince even goes so far as to close the distance between the two of you himself, hands coming to your aid in lacing the strands of ribboned satin together, gently tugging it into a looped butterfly. you think his favored form of communication is the clearing of his throat for he does it once again, "will you allow me hold account for my mishaps?"

"you hardly did much wrong, your highness." his nose scrunches at the formality.

"then may i repay you for your forgiveness?"

your expression isn't shy to conceal your incredulity at his persistence, "my, now i cannot help but be a tad bit intrigued. what can you offer than i cannot already find on my own land?"

"allow me," he pauses, a smile forming before he can even let you in on his gracious idea, "to give you a tour of the artisan marts, what do you suppose?" the smile is contagious, infectious even, spreading onto your face as well, "a mineral boy to guide me through fine arts? i think i ought to say yes."

your peals of laughter are imminent in the air of sundown. he thinks the painted coasters are plates, he sees the tapestries as scarves, the delicate ribbons as horse whips. but when the two of you come across an array of jeweled accessories, he has the gall to sneak a sapphired hair pin from the display and slot it between your locks, the hood shielding your identity from passerbyers  falling back. you're eyes are blown wide at this but jeno simply smiles, fingers coursing through two entangled tresses, courtesy of the abrasion on the rough commoner's fabric. 

"a pretty face like yours should never have to hide," he chides. jeno's eyes form soft crescents and he's subtle when he takes your hand in his, "wouldn't want to lose you, princess." you see him slip a gold coin for the dear madam selling the goods before he's off, jogging lightly and pulling you close to his back. the destination is unknown to you but the man seems to lead with an air of awareness. he slows a few blocks down, allowing you to catch your breath as you note that his hood has also been brushed back. returning the favor, you go on your toes to ruffle the strands into place, not missing the surprised flinch his composure gives way to. people left and right are starting to notice, it just so happens that the two of you are stood right in the middle of all the commotion that comes with the afternoon wave of customers. "over here."

jeno's hand is in yours again and you wonder if it's the cause of the heavy hammering in your heart. you wonder, because though it is certainly not an unwelcome feeling, you doubt you've ever felt it beat so hard. his hand gives your own a squeeze and it's as if your heartstrings have been strummed like a guitar, his ragged breaths music to your ears, a remedy for your aches. the narrow alleyway he's entered hosts a light at the end and it opens up into a view of the town, the terracotta-tiled roofings, bronzed candle streetlamps, public works funded by your mother, and all the townspeople going about their days, now in miniscule movements. the sun is just about setting but from the looks of it, it might as well be seen as rising. afterall, who is to say that only sunrises bring new days? new times, new beginnings, new understandings, new loves are all brought about just as much from sunsets as sunrises. and if there's one thing to prove that, it's the way jeno's hand never leaves yours, not for the rest of the night. 

"and they'd asked if i should want to extend the stay for anyone."

prince jeno crosses his room and leans upon the footboard of his bed. a week certainly isn't enough to develop a bond of marriage but he is glad to acknowledge that it doesn't get any better than this. "and did you?" he knows where you're going with this, you know that he knows, the whole palace knows that you know that he knows. why else would crown princess y/n head down to the guest quarters, to ask for the room number of a specific boy, if not to tell said boy, whom she had spent almost every second of the week with, that she would like it if he stayed? 

"yes, i did, i requested your stay. late yesterday, in fact, but i didn't have it in me to inform you until now." you're blushing and he's thrust into the awareness that the feelings you subject him to aren't customary. "will you be staying?" his eyes are unwavering on yours as if to tell you exactly what he means to say before he eventually does, "it'd be my pleasure."

a knock on the door breaks the moment, but jeno is quick to call the maid in. a letter is tucked between her fingers and upon delivery, the prince recognizes his name printed in the neat scrawl of his mother. an absentminded, "thanks" is followed up by the zealous unsheathing of the letter, a ill-minded idea of the content already forming in the forefront of his mind.

our dearest jeno,

it has come to our attention that you plan on extending your stay until a month's time. officials of the northern kingdom are already working in conjunction with our advisors to plan a date. of most excitement did it certainly incite within your family. had i known you'd be married off to a lass of such prestigious blood, i would have sent you much earlier. your father would love to hear of your methods of courting, perhaps your brother could do well with it no doubt. i've no time to spare, the schematics of your succession are coming fast in the drawing room. expect no less than the best and send my warmest regards to the young highness.

all the best, your dearest mother.

"she'd like to welcome you to the family, that's what's said." jeno's thankful that you decided to teeter over to him now, after he finished skimming through the damned article. he has time to fold it closed before you're by his side, fingers reaching for his. he's rubbing smooth lines into the ridges of your palms. "i suppose they are all thinking the same thing, marriage."

you speak, "do you suggest that it's wrong of them?" but jeno wishes you'd get to the point so he can tell you just what he means.

"not wrong, but natural. if i was my father i doubt i'd think any different."

"then, if not your father, how would you think?"

"i think," he's drawn to the way your teeth bite down on your lips. "i think i'd like it." his thoughts block out everything except the image of your lips and he ponders following through with the ideas plaguing his mind. jeno goes in when you draw back, turning to hide your flushed state. you're retreating even further now, taking an exit all together but not before clearing the air. "breakfast tomorrow at seven, east wing. ask a maid if you are unsure."

next time, he thinks.

breakfast is silent sans the clattering of cutlery on plates but jeno finds baseline joy in the shy glances that you sneak at him across the table. he does not, however, particularly like the prolonged stares your father blatantly spends on him. jeno thinks he's about to look away, for the sixth time at that, when the elder decides upon the moment to speak, "a striking young man, i'll let that. y/n, dear, pray tell me your decision was not built on his good looks." your father is rather speaking to you.

your face burns up in tinged mortification, "father, that is hardly an appropriate question to bring up over the course of a family meal-"

much to your chagrin, the king pays no heed to your interjections and resumes, "preposterous as it may seem, i would despise if our ranks were to be infiltrated by those of the miner's kingdom. our liberal arts are not so often mixed with a line of lowly traitors, an observation may i add-"

"father! oh, how lowly it is of you to be restricting a kind young sir of royal blood to the bounds of his heritage!" your mother has halted in her tracks, setting a golden spoon aside and retreating her hands to her lap.

"must you forget that the blood in him courses silver not gold?" your father's voice never raises, never lowers. you fail at maintaining the same composure, distress budding between outbursts. 

"color does not render the propriety of one for better or worse. i believe that was what you'd taught me to rule by but for laughs or for naught, a king you so-call yourself!" 

breakfast is silent once again, but this time, not even the aid of cutlery against plates is around to sheath the tension in the air. jeno's enlightened to learn of this side of you. your eyes are hardened, your jaw left slightly unhinged, and deep breaths are taken to retain any sort of semblance. he sees determination in your eyes, lined with a raw and unearthed air of conviction, and there's no other way to describe the look on your face except to say that you are solely driven by a vehement passion for righteousness. but drawing back from the you who has captivated him, he's left with the realization that he hasn't given a second thought to his original resolve since setting foot in the palace. and while the four of you sit in silence, glares and glowers being thrown about, prince jeno is daunted by the fact that more than ever, he feels the fervent ardor that in order to be a king, deserving of accolade and reverence, he needs you by his side to be his queen.

"what my father thinks is beyond me, really. i'd only hope what he said doesn't deter you all that much." you pop a cherry into your mouth, fingers clasping the stem and tugging it off with a pop. jeno looks down at you in adoration, the events of this morning a figment of the past. "not much at all for me, if it doesn't bother you." the soft smile that fills his countenance is given as if to say, 'as you wish, my love.'

you sit up abruptly, the thin cotton cloth scrunching under your thighs. the grass is still dewy from the morning showers but you slip off your sandals in favor of the bare grit of soil beneath your feet. the sun is beginning to stutter from its position overhead but not so fast, you think, the day has just begun. with one last look spared for the bewildered boy, you mouth a 'catch me if you can,' before bundling up the folds of your linen dress into your hands and taking off into the open fields. native flowers of poppies and calendula, orange and white, are trampled in your wake but you don't mind because prince jeno is hot on your heels. he is hot on your heels with a grin of mirth gracing his expression and strides that are long and fast. so fast that you are caught within a matter of seconds, encased in his arms before you even know it, feet lifting off the ground and squeals of protest in response. the adrenaline in your system is slow to subside as you land on your feet once again, eyes lit up like a child's in front of santa claus. the verdant grass looks a murky brown behind your rose-tinted glasses but prince jeno continues to look ethereal. grasping his dark locks in a fistful, you tug him down so that your lips meet and in no time, his lips are working fast against your own. the sensations are nothing short of paradisiacal, as opposite ends of the planet meet, the sun and the moon, the sky and the earth, summer and winter, water and fire, and silver and gold.

wet and slippery, you laugh at the strand of saliva that spreads thinner as you part from his lips. jeno repositions so that you are situated on his back and he allows you to catch your breath before strolling aimlessly across the grounds, as if what happened seconds beforehand didn't just mark the beginning of time. he takes you back inside once the sun has set and your eyelids are half closed. he waits outside in your chamber as you bathe and he stands behind you as your sit in front of your vanity, hair dripping wet and a towel in hand. jeno is gathering your hair in his hands, smoothing over your wet locks with the cloth when he remembers. he remembers the dream he had just over a fortnight ago. the one where he stood in this exact spot. he remembers it just as he sees you give a small chortle in the reflection of the mirror in response to him playfully pulling your hair a little too hard, an act of jest. the trickling feeling of déjà vu hits him so terribly hard but he can only live out the dream in real time, his fingers gently raking your now dried hair. he spins you in his seat and decides that whatever vision he was granted hadn't been revealed to him until now for the very reason being that he simply wasn't ready. the jeno of two weeks ago wasn't ready to love another, to accept another, to cherish another as he does now. now, for you. 

prince jeno's eyes are glazed over in awe and revelation as he feels the way your hands draw him closer to you by his waist, entwining your bodies. he's overcome with the need to be the one to make you feel the same way you do unto him. gingerly he lifts you from your spot, hands hooking under the crevice beneath your knees with your arms riding up to his shoulders while effectively removing his shirt in one fluid motion. he's glad that you share the same idea. 

that night is the first of many where he shows you the sheer magnitude of which he loves you. he lives for the look of your star-studded eyes, rolling back into your head and the way your toes curl as you call out his name and his name only. he breathes for the way your fingers are in a world of their own as they scour every inch of his hair, pushing and pulling the same way the moon teases its waters. his mere existence is reliant on the shine of his arousal on the bare skin of your stomach. with each time, jeno is reborn.

it's the crack of dawn when he hears your voice, barely scathing the absolute threshold, "i am still very much awake."

"as am i," jeno lifts his head to look across the room, past the dirtied sheets, the swathes of clothes on the ground, to the doors of the balcony that are swung wide open. the sky is of a distilled blue, not yet bright, but still illuminated by the crown of the sun.

"would it be deemed a waste to simply lay here for the duration of the night?" you question, but move to sit up in decisiveness. jeno answers offhandedly once again, even now revelling in the feeling of your skin on his, "i would feel so, yes."

"shall we take a trip to the study? i recall you mentioning a desire to visit." the prince smiles at this. curt again, "if you'd like."

"yes, a warm cup of tea and agreeable literature is an ancient remedy for sleeplessness. my, morning it is already. i don't suppose a morning nap has ever been heard of, though i'd think i'd like just that at this moment." you mumble out the last half, partially rambling to yourself. 

"light a candle, my dear, my eyes aren't half as sharp in the dim light." you chuckle at that and reach for the brass pricket set on your bedside table. upon lighting it, you are met with the boy's face irradiated in such a way that accentuates everything from his sharp jawline to the apples of his cheeks. he smiles as takes the instrument from you to allow you to don some clothes. the same is done for him and the two of you make quick time in rushing across the stale floors of the palace to the opposite wing. 

the main library, situated on the third floor but occupying large parts of both the third and fourth, is certainly the pride and treasure of the palace, the crown jewel of the northern kingdom even. the separate floors are each sixteen feet in height, filled wall-to-wall with encased book upon book. the collection dates back to the romans and as far forward as your most recent journal entry. jeno pads upon the floors that boast a parqueted mahogany, the same that runs along the integrated shelving and the carvings that crown the skylight above. the windows are made of giant panels of stained glass, mosaics that depict the landscapes just beyond, and as a result, the little light the sun has to offer is cast in shades of blue, green, and red. an assemblage of the masterpieces of ettore forti, genuine, he suspects, are hung in individual alcoves and molded with golden embellishments. jeno thinks the northern kingdom simply cannot have anything better to offer than this. except for you, he thinks.

a maid delivers your tea promptly, a gentle brew of loose leaf herbs, ginger and rooibos by the taste of it and you settle into the plush velvet of the segmented lounge. the work you're reading aloud is enough to keep you awake for the better half of an hour before you begin dozing off. your soft and even breaths are enough for jeno to be shaken from his attention on a few select poems, and he's careful when he moves to replace the leather-bound diary in your hands, with a hand of his own. jeno uses his other hand to cradle the side of your face, as any besotted boy would do, caressing by the means of docile strokes. he feels a mellow calm when you're persistent by his side, even in your sleep. tucking a strand of hair behind your ears, he's leaning in for a quick kiss to the temple when the door of the study is propped ajar, a boy of briefer height emerging from the unlit halls. 

jeno recognizes the boy almost instantly, the image of you walking hand in hand with him still as unrelenting in his mind as it was on day one. lee donghyuck, of similar surname but a long-diverging lineage, the fourth prince of the eastern kingdom of agriculture. jeno isn't hit with jealousy, per se, but rather annoyance. 

donghyuck's steps halt the moment he sees the still figure on the juniper-stained chaise. his brows draw in suspicion but he's prudent of the expression he lets on. a dialogue of whispers ensues.

"prince jeno, is it?" donghyuck's face darkens when the other nods. "ah, i've heard of the tidings, may i pass on sincere felicitations to you and your betrothed."

"much obliged, prince donghyuck, i presume." obverse, the aforementioned boy nods.

despite all his efforts, donghyuck can't help but let loose a sliver of his composure, "i have little credit i can give to your word, but i'd like to hear what you have to say in regards to the arrangement."

prince jeno is ticked off now, to say the least, he hides his vexation by keeping his reply as formally insincere as he can muster, "elated, the arrangement could not have been better dealt with." 

"and you are a man that deals in the prospects of union?" donghyuck does not mean to nitpick but there's no way around it when the prince in front of him is so obviously indignated by his presence. you could say that he's been provoked.

voice held level, jeno proceeds, "i am a man of virtue and i come in good faith, i assure you."

"i must inquire, a man of virtue and good faith? i'd like to know of you and your families' conspiracies, falsities, machinations." a snide and low-shot remark, no doubt, but it riles up the taller of the two fair enough.

jeno sussurates, raspy voice and all, "and who are you, brave enough to speak in such a fashion to a second prince."

"gold by marriage is synonymous to silver by birth. why count the numbers when we are one and the same?" donghyuck's voice is still a bare undertone, but harsh and course in resonance. 

"a pity you weren't raised to tell the difference." neither of the princes bother to conceal their malignity for the other. if you were awake, neither would know, too caught up in the heat of their frustration. 

donghyuck is fed up with years of spite and built-up distaste. in between all the blundering he has found a point, a target to aim for. he may not see jeno as a harm to you but he knows there's an unspoken wedge that revolves around his family. donghyuck glows in his opportune moment, then he strikes, "and you were raised upon your father's supremacy. do tell, do you believe your father to be an honest man?"

he is met with jeno's silence, compliance, submission.

the leisure sport of swordsmanship is what prince jeno sets out for first thing after ensuring you had woken and eaten something fulfilling. he is in the need to exert his energy on something, or someone, that isn't an acquaintance of yours, for fear that he has done more damage than good by manifesting himself as an enemy in the eyes of your closest companion. he requests your court's highest ranking knight and is surprised and slightly jarred that the man before him is of a smaller stature, a few inches shorter with narrow shoulders and lean muscles. renjun is the name he goes by and he dominates without the need of force. jeno tells the boy to display his best effort, that a scuff here and there is fine, but he severely misconstrues his opponent's abilities. 

renjun, as it turns out, finds amusement in jeno's stances, flaws evident in ways that only he can see. undermining the prince's pride is what he aims for and he does exactly that, successful with three strokes, two that flit like sparks in the air and the last that scathes the skin of the prince's left wrist. it's small in area and deep in puncture, the raw film underneath unfurling within itself, but it's enough for him to call the session off. jeno's hand withdraws from the new wound and he's met with the sight of red.

the prince is drawn, in many ways more than one, to the red as it seeps between the clasp of his fingers. as it begins its descent towards the fast-approaching floor, the floor of white limestone. he's drawn by the depth he sees within the color, the solidarity he feels towards the hue. in the silver ichor that pools by his feet, he's drawn to his blood red reflection.

jeno finds you retired in your room that night, in exhaustion of formal meetings and other circumstances that required a princess' supervision. despite this, your visage still lights with joy upon seeing the prince. "would you prefer if i let you rest?"

"depends, what will you propose if i refuse?" the lilt to your voice has him almost coddling, his thumbs running circles on the skin behind your ears down to your neck to release the tensions. "i'd propose a midnight adventure, stargazing maybe." 

you give a modest snigger, "a bit of a romanticist, aren't you?"

"only for you i must admit." his tone is humorless. "are you up for it, dear?"

your face returns taut, "yes, needless to say, only for you." 

prince jeno takes you by the hand, he leads and you follow. he makes rounds about the same halls, you think he's unsure of where he is heading, but he comes to a stop at the precipice of the fourth landing. the balcony that leans off to the side is one that you have never stood atop of before though you're unsure why. the outlook it bestows upon you is breathtaking, even in the dead of night. just barely are the outlines of the flowers oscillating in the drafts shown, even fainter are the hills that overlap in the distance, but oh-so-clear is the moon. 

it's quartered today, the slope of the curve is round and prominent. all of a sudden, jeno is quoting ray bradbury, a classic text he knows you'll know a little too much about. "and if you look," he nods to the sky, "there's a man in the moon." as he conjectured, you're quick to catch on the act before the moment dissipates, "he hadn't looked for a long time."

"do you believe in the man in the moon?"

"i believe in the man and the moon, but the man in the moon is very much apparent as well." your eyes are set in the stars. "he is astray and far from the ground, from earth. he does not seek what we all should seek, but rather he dives headfirst into the superficial."

"and what is it that we all should seek?"

"the one thing in the world that carries any significance at all: happiness."

it is now that prince jeno sees himself as the man in the moon, chasing after mirages of aspirations when in truth, he does not find solace in power, he does not revel in the destruction of others, he does not take lightly when the lonely are forsaken and he shall never partake in the atrocities his father subjects him to. but the man in the moon is a conscious past of his, a living memory of growth, for jeno finds happiness in you; you who grounds him to the earth.

lee jeno thinks the world of you and, as the greatest russian poet ever wrote, "she is a beauty. yes, a marble nymph; angelic eyes, unearthly lips…" (Alexander Pushkin, The Collected Works; "A Suite of Lighted Rooms")

read volume two here: overcast skies and those who die.

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

[lexi-evans]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚢 | 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙿𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚇 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

“come on!! This way” He motioned.Ron and Ginny marched in obediently; Hermione, Neville, and Luna squashed themselves in after them; Harry took one glance back at the thestrals, now foraging for scraps of rotten food inside the dumpster, then forced himself into the box after Luna.

“Ready, y/n? ” He held out his hand, you happily grabbed it. Meeting the others.

“Whoever’s nearest the receiver, dial six two four four two!” he said. Ron did it, his arm bent bizarrely to reach the dial. As it whirred back into place the cool female voice sounded inside the box, “Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

“Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger,” Harry said very quickly, “Ginny Weasley, Y/N Y/L/N, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood . . . We’re here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!” You looked around boringly.

“Thank you,” said the cool female voice. “Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.” Half a dozen badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. Hermione scooped them up and handed them mutely to Harry over Ginny’s head; he glanced at the topmost one.

After the verification, All of you entered the Atrium. You carefully scanned the Arena. “where's the security? ” You asked, finding no one at the place.“I don't know, Hey! Hey!Y/N!Sweetheart, stay close to me! Don't wander if like that, you're gonna be me a heart attack” Harry grabbed you're hand, his firm grip tightened making sure you're close to him. “eh? Sorry for trying to have a little fun, Harr” You said, playfully.

As you all walked towards the lifts. Man, they were noisy. You saw Harry clicking the button '9' . With that the lift started moving very fast. Causing you to hug Harry.

Ginny giggled when you looked over Harry's shoulder you saw Luna hugging her lover tightly. Ugh, I ship it. They're such a cute couple.

“Department of Mysteries,” and the grilles slid open again, all of you stepped out into the corridor where nothing was moving but the nearest torches, flickering in the rush of air from the lift.

Harry turned toward the plain black door. After months and months of dreaming about it, he was here at last. . . .

“Let’s go,” he whispered, and he led the way down the corridor, Luna right behind him, gazing around with her mouth slightly open.

“Okay, listen,” said Harry, stopping again within six feet of the door. “Maybe . . . maybe a couple of people should stay here as a lookout, and —” “And how’re we going to let you know something’s coming?” asked Ginny, her eyebrows raised. “You could be miles away.”

“We’re coming with you, Harry,” said Neville. “Let’s get on with it,” said Ron firmly. You didn't even hesitate, walking towards the door as they were talking.

“Y/N? Y/N!! Hey-dont!!” Too late. The door already swung open. He caught you and now he started scolding you. “Harry—We have to go! Now! ” You dragged him a long with others by your side.

You guys were standing in a large, circular room. Everything in here was black including the floor and ceiling — identical, unmarked, handle-less black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls,interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue, their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor so that it looked as though there was dark water underfoot. “Wow, so cool” You were about to run, again. But Harry caught you. “you're not running away, Missy”

Suddenly, all the lights lit up and sound was heard and the walls seemed moving. You cling on to Harry's side, this time listening to him. “stay by my side” He whispered. You nodded, feeling a little bit scared of what might happen next.

For Harry you kept on repeating the words in your head. Suddenly, everything just... Stopped. “what the hell was that all about? ” you asked, throwing daggers at the doors.

“I think it was to stop us knowing which door we came in from,” said Ginny in a hushed voice. “uh-huh” you said, gripping Harry's hand tighter. “I'm right here,Darling, don't worry! ”

“How’re we going to get back out?” said Neville uncomfortably. “well, that doesn’t matter now,” said Harry. Harry walked straight towards another door. “Luna stay by my side” Ginny said, protectively. Holding her girlfriend next to her.

Opening it, it wasn't shiny like the before once. In the room middle was there a huge tank in green water number of pearly white objects that were drifting around lazily in the liquid.

“Even if I feel like swimming, I'm not swimming with those in there” you said, bluntly as other laughed. You tend to smile in serious situations so that's no surprise for them.

“Aquavirius maggots!” said Luna excitedly. “Aqua—what? ” you asked, confused. “Aquavirius Maggots” she repeated. “Right, Aquavius Faggots” you beamed. Luna sighed.

“Dad said the Ministry were breeding —” Hermione cut her off.

“No,” said Hermione. She sounded odd. She moved forward to look through the side of the tank. “They’re brains.” “Brains?” you asked bewildered.

“Yes . . . I wonder what they’re doing with them?” Harry joined her at the tank. “I'm really starting to hate this place, now. ” Harry caught a glimpse at the horrified face of his girlfriend which is enough for him to decide.

“let's find another door” He stated. “In my dream I went through that dark room into the second one,” he said. “I think we should go back and try from there.”

“Eh, I wonder if you were dream about me Harr” You said, teasingly. He rolled his eyes. While walking.

You allhurried back into the dark, circular room; the ghostly shapes of the brains were now swimming before Harry’s eyes instead of the blue candle flames. “Wait!” said Hermione sharply, as Luna made to close the door of the brain room behind them. “Flagrate!”

The sound from earlier came again and now another door has appeared. This time there's a veil in the room, no bright blue lights like before. The place felt really odd. Hermione kept saying we should get out but Harry wouldn't budge.

“What are you saying?” he said very loudly, so that the words echoed all around the surrounding stone benches.

“Nobody’s talking, Harry!” said Hermione, now moving over to him.

“Someone’s whispering behind there,” he said, moving out of her reach and continuing to frown at the veil. “Is that you, Ron?”

“I’m here, mate,” said Ron, appearing around the side of the archway. “can’t anyone else hear it?” Harry demanded. “I can hear them too” said Luna. “They're whispering” you said, Pointing the veil.

“they're people in there” Luna stated simply. “what?” Ginny pulled Luna away from the veil. “Luna Baby you can't go around trying to touch stuff like.. That! Something might happen to you, okay? ”

“Let's go” Harry grabbed you're hand pulling you towards the door. He tried to open it but it wouldn't. “it's.... Locked? Hermione! ” you moved away, letting the smartest try it.

“Alohamora! ” she casted but nothing happened. “great, we're stuck” You huffed. “Aww, baby don't give up now” Harry cooed but the frustration is clearly visible in his face. Neville rolled his eyes. "Why Neville? Sad Zabini isn't here?” you teased. “shut it, Y/N” He said, playfully.

“Is—is that who's I think it is? ” you pointed the knife laying on the floor. Harry picked it up “It's sirius it's his” as the walls are spinning, you found yourself staring at the new door. “This is it!” As Harry’s eyes became more accustomed to the brilliant glare you saw clocks gleaming from every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage,

hanging in spaces between the bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room, so that a busy, relentless ticking filled the place like thousands of minuscule, marching footsteps. The source of the dancing, diamond-bright light was a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room.

“This way!” Harry led all of you. You simply followed him, anywhere he led you. You trust him, and you'd do anything to make sure he's okay. “D'you think I could find mine? How cool would that be? ” You said, to Luna who agreed knowing how cool that would be. “Yes, it would be nice. Y/N, but we shouldn't” she said, softly patting your back. “I know I'm just saying”

For him, even if it mean you have to sacrifice yourself. You zoned off thinking of you're prophecy is here or not? Or you're parents? “I don't think sirius is here” you're head snapped towards him.

“Harry. . . ” You squeezed his hand, placing your hand on his shoulder. “After coming all the way... ” He looked down, disappointed. “Harry — this thing got you're name on it” said, Ron.

He took the prophecy. Examining it. Suddenly black shapes came out of nowhere and now surrounded all of you. You held you're wand steadily. Glaring at Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange.

“give it to me, potter” Lucius held out his hand. Harry refused “where is sirius? ” He's trying to contain his anger. You can feel it. He's triggered. “Give it to me, potter” He said, yet again a little more Harshly.

His fellow death eaters laughed. “I want to know where sirius is?!!! ” Harry demanded. “I want to know where sirius is!! ” Bellatrix mimicked. You're grip tighten around the wand.

“Shut up, Bellatrix” You said, angrily. She glared at you “Oh, look the little one can talk” She mocked.. “I can do more than talk” You said. “enough” Said, Lucius.

“I know you’ve got him!” more of the Death Eaters laughed, though the woman still laughed Loudest of all. “Why don't you shut up, it's so annoying” you said, making a Disgusted face towards the lunatic woman.

She snarled. “it’s time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter,” said Malfoy. “Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands.”

“Give me the prophecy and no one would get hurt” He gestured towards You, Neville, Ginny, Luna, Hermione and Ron.

Harry Rose his wand steadily ready for battle. “what kind of prophecy, does Voldemort want? ” Harry asked. Threatening to drop the ball.

“You dare to speak out his name? ” hissed Bellatrix. “Voldy” You said, causing others to giggle. She shot a death glare towards you. “I've go no problem saying Vold-”

“Shut your mouth!” Bellatrix shrieked. “You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood’s tongue, you dare —” “Shut Up you filthy pureblood! Just because you're pureblood doesn't make you any better than Voldemort” She hissed at your words.

“Did you know he’s a half-blood too?” said Harry recklessly. “Voldemort? Yeah, his mother Was a witch but his dad was a Muggle — or has he been telling you lot he’s pureblood?”

“STUPEF —” “NO!” Harry kept stalling them until you guys were ready to make a run for the door. “NOW!!! ” He yelled as all of you started sprinting. “REDUCTO”

Curses and spells Echoed through the walls. You and Harry got separated in the middle and now you can't find him. “Y/N, this way” Ron grabbed you're hand and started running.

“STUPEFY!! ” you yelled when you saw a death eater Approaching you and Ron. “EXPELLIARMUS” The red light shot from right behind you, Ron's wand flew out of his grip.

“Levicorpus” You yelled sending away the death eater. “Let's go let's go, come on, Ron” Both of you lunged towards where Ginny and Luna were.

“Luna watch out” You shot "stupefy" Just in time before it can hit Luna. “thanks Y/N” she smiled. “Expelliarmus” you're wand flew out the grip. “Expelliarmus” Ron Shot the spell at the man.

“Let's do this Muggle way, then” You cracked you're knuckles. Harry came in just time but stopped when he saw you lunging towards the death eater punching him in the face.

He rose his arm you caught it twisting and threw him the other side as some of the prophecy's hit his head. “Do Not Underestimate a girl” You dusted you're hands grabbing your wand.

“Harry!! ” You gasped when you saw him smiling proudly. He walked over and hugged you tightly. “That was amazing, Love” He gave you a kiss as a award, dragging you with him towards the door.

“HERMIONE!! ” you heard Ron screaming, you found him and three of you started searching others fighting any death eaters come on your way.

you got separated from everyone. Suddenly a death eater came and got you. Then everything went black.

“Crucio” You heard, Neville screamed, his legs drawn up to his chest so that the Death Eater holding him was momentarily holding him off the ground. The Death Eater dropped him and he fell to the floor, twitching and screaming in agony.

“No.. ” You're eyes bloodshot as the scene in front of you was terrifying. “Oh, Look the little baby woke up!! Had a nice dream? ” Bellatrix Laughed. “Yeah, I did! I dreamt about kicking Your Ass” You spoke gritting you're teeth.

“Now, Potter, either give us the prophecy, or watch your little friend die the hard way! And you're little girlfriend here is going to suffer” Harry looked at you, “No...Harry.. NO!!” He's going to give away the prophecy!!!

“Sorry, baby” Harry gave you an apologetic look. Bellatrix snorted. He held it out, Mr. malfoy Grasped within his hand immediately. Suddenly, two more doors burst open and five more people sprinted into the room: Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley.

“Let go off, her!! Now!! ” Remus held out his wand pointing towards the death eater who held you. You clearly forgot you were being held??? “That! Won't be necessary professor” You bought up you're leg high enough kicking him right in the shines, as the death eater fell on the floor holding his pants.

“Take that sucker” You ran towards Remus, who's smiling. “good job, N/N” He gave a pat on the head before heading off to fight the other death eaters.

Kingsley was fighting two at once;Tonks, still halfway up the tiered seats, was firing spells down at Bellatrix. You see Harry was being held by death eater. You ran upto him. “Hey! Arsehole” He turned his attention towards you, his grip loosen on Harry. “Harr—Duck” everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

Harry pulled away. As you kicked the death eater right in the face. He fell on the floor his hood falling off. Showing his face, Mcnair? “You? You were the guy supposed to kill buckbeak? ” You attack him again but Harry pulled you off.

“petrificus tortalus” Harry hugged you tightly, “I was scared... I thought I lost you” He whimpered. “You'll never loose me, You can have me all for yourself when we get back, okay? Now let's Fight” he nodded.

You somehow managed to find your wand, and started taking on death eaters. “Impendimenta” You shot towards another death eater who's trying to attack tonks. “Thanks, Kid” she smiled.

You took on one after another. You were too busy to even see Dumbledore has arrived. “Come on, you can do better than that!” You heard Sirius laughing. Bellatrix shot another spell, Oh No the veil. He missed it and you know Bellatrix would not let him live any longer. You ran as fast as you can using all the energy left in your body. No! No! Sirius!!!

“AVADA KAD-” You pushed him before he can fall into the veil. This is it?? Is this how you're gonna die? You thought but unfortunately you stumbled on to your left resulting on kissing the floor.

You winced in pain. You heard sirius yelling “Expelliarmus” you slowly sat on wincing even more. It hurt like hell. You're lower lip burst as you can taste you're own blood. "Y/N!!! ” Sirius ran to you, kneeing reaching down for you. Remus heard Sirius he catched a glimpse at you're small figure. Horrified, He sprinted towards you.

“Why'd you do that for??!! You could've died!! Now you're hurt” Sirius exclaimed, you're lips played a small smile. “Y/N? Y/N are you okay? ” Remus kneeled next Sirius. You nodded. “If it means I could save you, I'll take my chances siri” You're voice pained but you didn't care. Remus was shocked hearing the younger. Yes, Remus know how much Sirius means to both Harry and Y/N but he didn't think like this?

Sirius is important too, like everyone of you're friends to you. “Don't ever do that to me, again!!” said, Sirius As tears escaped his eyes. He hugged you placing a soft kiss on top of your head. Remus smiled. “If I'm ever going to be in you're family then you're my family too, sirius” you pointed towards the promise ring on you're hand Harry gave you.

“Does it hurt, Y/N? Can you move? ” Remus examined the wound on your knee. You shook you're head. “No... I don't think so professa I can't feel it” You stated simply as it doesn't matter. Even after he left Hogwarts, you never missed a chance calling him professor. Honestly, he always felt proud to have you as his student.

“we're getting you out of here, you already got hurt enough” Sirius and Remus slowly helped you stand up. “But—” “No means No, Y/N. No buts” Sirius said seriously. Remus chuckled. “Molly will take good care of you, okay? Go with him” Remus kissed your forehead.

You glanced at Harry one last time before Both you apparated to Grimmauld place.

“Remus? Remus? Have you seen Y/N?? And Sirius?? I can't find them? ” Harry asked, worriedly. “She's hurt, Harry. Sirius took her back and they're fine” Remus explained, calmly shooting spells and hexes at the death eaters.

“Y/N, Oh my god what happened to you?? ” Molly exclaimed giving a hand helping you as they leapt you towards the room.Both of them,carefully lied you on bed. “Sirius” it came out more like a whisper. “I'm here, Y/N. I'm right here” He took your hand into his. “Harry.. ” You said before darkness took over.

“How did this happen” You heard Harry's angry/worry voice. Your head pounded as the images from earlier came back. “She tried to save Sirius, Harry. And she did save him then she fell down, right after she saved him” Remus spoke softly. There uneasy Tension in the room? You didn't like it. “Again” Added Tonks. Everyone fell silent.

“I hope she'll alright” Luna said, worried about her fellow partner. Ginny hugged her. “she's going to be fine, Luna. She's just injured and needs... Rest”

“Harry... ” You open your eyes, then closing them again trying to adjust the light. “Y/N!!” He helped you sit up. “You made it back” you said in hoarse voice.“Y/N...” He looked at you with tears in his eyes. As he was neatly seated next to you.

“Hey—I'm fine, really. ” more tears escaped his eyes he buried his head into your lap crying. “Aww, baby I'm so sorry for scaring you but see I saved Sirius now you don't have to worry about anything. Look I'm a hero now” You spoke ruffling his hair.

“or is it more like. Heroine? Either way I'm great” you joked, a few chuckle left from others. “I love you” He murmured. You smiled softly. “And I Love you.... ”

“Bloody Hell, Y/N! You scared us!!” Ron said, dramatically. “Oh, shush Ron! We're glad you're fine, Y/N” Hermione smiled at you. You nodded. “You never fail to surprise me, L/N. Never” Neville shook his head smiling a little.

“You can't get rid of me that easily, Neville! Besides who's going to tease you about zabini everyday eh? ” You joked. Causing the rest to laugh.

Sirius walked over sitting next to you, and hugged both you and Harry. “Now Now!! Enough with the emotions here I think I might be sick.!! ” You said, jokingly. “Molly~~” You whined, Mrs. Weasley smiled. “Yes, dear? ”

“I'm starving” you pouted. “Alrighty then, Everyone hurry downstairs,Time for dinner!!!” said, Molly as she hurried downstairs. “Y/N? ” Harry called out.

“yes, Harr? ” you replied. “Marry Me” He breathed. “That my dear Harry Potter, I shall gladly” you giggled. Remus and Tonks chuckled. “Welcome to the family, Y/N” Sirius said, happily. Him and Remus exited the room. Going downstairs.

Ginny sighed “when should I propose you, Love?” she asked Luna who giggled. “How about Right now? ” “Hey, Luna! You both are not 21 yet!? No marriage! ” Ron said, being the overprotective one.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “God, I love these kids” Tonks said, laughing at the younger one's. “Trust me, Tonks! You'll love us even more when you see Sirius and Remus with Rainbow colors hair tomorrow morning” you said, giving her a playful wink.

“How did you—” “I have my ways, People” You laughed. “the little devil, you are” She ruffled you're hair before leaving the room.

“I'm serious, Y/N” said, Harry. But Y/N laughed “I thought he's sirius”. “Y/N...” you stopped laughing, for real this time. “I actually want to marry you.. Not now but maybe in the future, y'know when there's no dark wizard trying to kill me? ” He said, playing with your hand.

“Right, of course I'll marry you... After you defeat noseless!! ” Everyone burst into fit of laughter knowing it's actually true.... Noseless Voldemort. Hilarious!

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ The end　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

✾a/n: now that fic has finished.. Which one do you guys reckon I should post next? Hermione Granger fic or else Drarry X reader Fic? *sigh.... * there's a lot going on with me right now, and idk why I'm so moody lately. Everyday seems like hell and I just don't have any luck? It's like no. Matter how much I try.. Everyone still seems to think very less of me. Anyways, I hope you guys have a great day and also don't forget to like and follow for more♡ I love you all so much💚