#love is stored in my dearest friend

[changelingart]

Love is stored in listening to your friends for four hours straight. Love is stored in the joy of helping your friend. Love is stored in your friend allowing you to participate in the divine act of creation with them. Love is stored in texts sent back and forth, for four hours, over the distance of two states.

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde (Here) | Diasomnia (Here) A/N: HUZZAH YET ANOTHER SERIES FINALLY COMPLETE

Habits You Steal:

Heels (Developed): Malleus is quite tall. No, scratch that. He towers over everyone. The horns give him an added height that really sells the deal. Unless you want to crane your neck back and develop a hump? It's wise to start wearing heels.

Prose (Inherited): Malleus. We love his little riddles and mysterious aura . He obviously read the wrong script and came straight out of an early 2000s YA novel named 'Evermore' or something akin. Yet he quite literally cannot get to the point sometimes. It’s a Diasomnia thing for sure but he’s the worst of the litter. It's infuriating. On one hand, your vocabulary has vastly improved. If only he could rub off on Grim, Professor Trein would be ecstatic. The problem is that sometimes you lapse into an 18th century sonnet, and your friends give maximum shit for it. Especially Ace. No mercy.

“Apologies everyone, it’s now past twilight hour and both the prefect and I need to conclude our evening agenda. Please excuse our absence and continue to delight in the night’s festivities.”-> Dear god Malleus - just say you’re going to walk them home and that you’ll see everyone in the morning. The misunderstandings that come from using big words is worse than sounding improper.

Sleeping on your side (Developed): Malleus requires a special pillow to sleep and it's one of those long ones that is positioned center of the bed. Most nights he rests like the dead, flat on his back so his horns don't tear the cloth. Laying on his side is a challenge, but he also wants to be touching you. It's one of those scenarios where once someone who's touch starved gets a taste, they can't go back. So most nights you'll sleep on one side (doesn't matter which) with either your head on his chest or your arms wrapped around one of his. Oh yeah - you get to keep one of those fancy pillows in Ramshackle. It's stored in a spare room but grim steals it quite a bit since the quality is high. The nights Malleus isn't around, you'll wake up with Grim smothered in your arms instead. Guess the whole 'can't go back' thing doesn't apply ONLY to Malleus here.

Luck (Inherited?): Fae blessings are a thing - we have confirmation within a 'discussion' during the main plot. I won't say when to avoid spoilers. Point is, the partner of Malleus Draconia most definitely has fae favorability cast upon them. You could make a HEFTY deal with Azul if he ever found out, so maybe keep the knowledge in your back pocket for a rainy day. Maybe offer to sit by him during a game of poker? Haha, no. You're actually 100% unaware. Only other fae can sense a blessing, and Lilia isn't a snitch. Expect your luck to turn around. Perhaps not entirely, but enough for the grey hairs to stop sprouting prematurely. It's difficult for other fae and supernatural to sense who placed a blessing, but they can recognize raw power. There is only one person on campus with enough magical potency to cast such a powerful charm. All thy need is two brain cells to connect the dots (some do lack this, unfortunately). You won't be sucked into any messes such as the Ghost Bride, etc. anymore, at the very least.

"Hm? I've little to no involvement with the others in my dorm, dearest. Yet, is it not a good happenstance that they treat you with the upmost respect? Do other dorms behave so uncouth that you are wary of proper manners? Diasomnia would welcome you, all you need do is ask." <- It is technically not a lie? He's not explicitly making anyone behave a certain way, but surely the strong aura acts as a deterrent for anyone with bad intentions. It just so happens that most fae-born students reside in Diasomnia. Not that he'd take kindly to any of his acting like anything but proper gentlemen towards you. This includes Sebek, by the way. The tonal whiplash with this one is insane the moment he recognizes Malleus' magic.

Gargoyles (Inherited): There is not much to say on this topic. Malleus is the sole member of Gargoyle Studies, and while he won't force you to join? It would make him very happy. You will become accustomed to travel and find comfort in desolate places. The dewy chill in deep ruins, nature's overgrowth from time's passing - certainly Malleus revisits places he once knew held life, and have been left to deteriorate. You can't truly feel the heavy nostalgia as Malleus can, but the appreciation is still shared.

"I once deeply enjoyed the solitude of ruins. The weathering of time somehow captured in architecture. Trapped in place as the world continued to live on. Yet I now find more joy in sharing them with you, rather than basking in their atmosphere alone. It perplexes me, and yet I find no problem with it." -> Malleus discovered the happiness that comes from simply being near someone you love. He just...doesn't realize it yet? It's a difficult feeling to characterize in words. Different than with his family, certainly. The entire point of going to a ruin was to enjoy the abandoned atmosphere. Malleus cares for his family yet there is a divide. Unspoken, and unable to be crossed. His world turns while he remains at a stand still. Yet whenever he discovers a new ruin, he couldn't find that tranquility he used to. Enjoying it alone is almost unthinkable - harrowing. He can't without you, or else it feels lacking. Even if you sit together in silence, he'd be happy. He just wants you there, your reactions, your company - it brings life back to the emptiness. Leaving the place more harmonious than he found it, coating it with pleasant memories for future visits. Hopefully ones where he is not alone.

Habits He Steals:

Artistry (Developed): Malleus has plenty of time to develop skills. The resources as well. He's fearful that one day your memory will become just that - a memory. One where he cannot picture your face in his mind. Where he's the only one left who recalls your existence. Be it because you pass on, or decide to leave him prematurely and return 'home'. Even if he firmly believes that there is nowhere more 'home' for you than in Twisted Wonderland. Regardless, he doesn't trust others enough. He needs to capture your likeness on his own. With his hands rather than magic - even if using magic to do so is child's play. He does not tell anyone of this budding desire or disquiet in his heart. Not even Lilia, who's likeness is forever immortalized in textbooks. The unspoken implications are too much for Malleus to confront.

People Watching (Inherited): It’s a work-in-progress, getting Malleus to see people as…well, ‘people’ and not subjects or those he’s obligated to protect. To cure his social awkwardness, there’s a need to get him ‘loosey-goosey’ and in touch with improv. What better way than to people watch? Except you don’t just sit there with him to observe. Malleus is thrown for a loop when you start making up backstories for everyone - based on their clothes, what they might be doing, or whatever else. None of it’s true. The ideas are all super embellished and with characterization holes…but it’s fun, and it gets him to think about how specific a person’s life can become, whether they live a lengthy life or not. Something utterly pointless to do, suddenly becomes one of Malleus’ favorite pass times.

Earth Slang (Inherited): It's a give and trade scenario. He improves your vocabulary, while you do Lilia proud by being the newest gremlin on Malleus' shoulder. Rather than teaching him Twisted Wonderland slang, it's much more entertaining for him to learn Earth lingo. Which is different. It's our metaphors, legends, and phrases like 'it's raining cats and dogs'. You're going to talk in SpongeBob quotes to him and he's going to believe it's philosophical. How novel, indeed. He gets to learn more about you as a person, and you get to have a bit of fun while also fostering a language shared only amongst the two of you? Like a secret code that friends have, or lovers? Huhu. It's not hard to crack at all but still fun.

"Hm? An 'updog'? Is this another saying or legend from your world? No, I have never heard of an 'updog' anywhere in Briar Valley. What is an 'updog'? A terror of some kind?" <- Heh.

Domestic Tasks (Inherited): Be still Sebek's heart, because bro might need to be resuscitated. Malleus wants to help you. Except he's found a situation where there isn't anything he can offer? Sure, he can offer coin and trinkets. Anyone can. It also is not his place to insert himself and solve your problems. You're an independent human and he isn't foolish enough to overstep that. So? Acts of service, even if said acts are 'beneath' him. This revolves back to him simply enjoying your presence, no matter what. Since you come with him to enjoy hobbies, it's only fair he does the same. Now he doesn't fully believe that you 'like' cleaning, but it's what you do most. So he'll help hang the sheets outside and then cast wind magic so they dry faster. He'll set up security charms outside Ramshackle, and enchant the paint brushes to freshen up your fence while you both share a pot of tea on the porch. You seem happy, and even a tad amused. So he'll relinquish some pride. If only for you to smile.

“Do all without magic need to take such…’extreme’ measures to clean windows? Please do not perch on the sill like this when I am not near. Else allow me this task, a simple water spell is far more proficient and safe” -> Man catches you ONE TIME, leaning out one of the second story windows to clean the outside glass and his heart skips a beat. Not that you wouldn’t make a lovely gargoyle on the roof, but spare him. He cannot fathom why one of the ghost residents can’t do it in your stead, but Malleus much prefers your feet planted on firm flooring (who’s going to tell him about all the holes and weak floorboards in Ramshackle?)

Nicknames (Developed): Malleus ceases calling you 'Child of Man'. There are many other children of men. It just so happens to be his default when you met. You are more. Much more. Which is why you cannot be his 'Child of Man'. Malleus actually takes to calling you your name more often than not. Names are meaningful, after all. Yet he dubs you 'Mooncalf' as well.

“Mooncalves are beautiful creatures that inspire. A name given to ‘those who dream’. That is what you do, is it not? Dream, and bring novel ideas that spark life in others.”

Strength (Developed): This is quite difficult. Controlling his strength when touching another is like trying to crack an eggshell with a power-saw. Yet the more you are together, the more he desires to touch you. So he has to learn. Since if he ever injured you, Malleus would never forgive himself. Often he hovers near, guiding you yet never making direct contact. His palm hovering near the small of your back as you walk, or taking extreme care when holding your arm. He's broken more teapots than you can count, and it takes months to share a bed. The fear of hitting you in his sleep caused insomnia for days...just, goodness. Don't even start on his tail. That thing has a mind of it's own.

"Fascinating...Hm?. No, no. I am by no means upset. Quite the contrary. Could I trouble you to humor my curiosity with examples? Oho, this is a wonderful evening indeed." <- Malleus showcases one of his pointed smiles - chin grasped between thumb and index as he listens intently to his juniors go in great detail about how you've begun to resemble him. The one other students will shy away from, but little do they know just how genuinely overjoyed he is. At first they showed mild distaste for the Ramshackle Prefect daring to go after someone like Malleus Draconia, yet all know better than to admit such a thing to his face. Else pity the fool. Yet nothing could dour his mood, their formal report reading like a lovestory in his mind. It is not that he is 'naive' to your mannerisms. You are always changing - as are many - and he would not dare to make any assumptions. Yet if others are noting these subtle changes as well? Malleus is...overwhelmed. Joy, appreciation, humor, and a bit unsettled if one asked for full honesty. If you are admiring him, including him in your person, as much as he is to you? It's an intimate commitment that comes once in a lifetime for his kind. He needs to think, but for now he will enjoy the 'implications' as much as he can.

Habits you steal:

Light Feet (Inherited): The king of jump-scares, ladies and gentlemen. Lilia is quite the cheeky fellow. He wades through corridors, skulking around like a bat on the walls. Both body and humor seem to ascend to new heights with this one - who without a moment's hesitation will drag you into his schemes. You may not be able to float, but that is no excuse to clomp about like an oaf! No, my doves, the greatest joys in life come from a good thrill. Others learn to keep a keen eye out for this bat's lover, as you slink about and appear at the most random moments.

"Oho!....my, my - your stealth is improving by the day. Don't get too cocky now, else I'll be forced to show you how a professional jump-scare is done!" <- Leona KingScholar himself has threatened to stick a bell collar on you, those from Savanaclaw taking a step back as you begin to resemble the more worrisome Diasomnia residents by the day. Dropping from treetops and banisters aplenty, the trickster ghosts at Ramshackle love their new fourth (and fifth, counting the ancient bat who haunts the halls just as much as they do).

Impish Glint (Inherited): Kehehehe~ it's physically impossible not to mimic that mischief laden smile of Lilia's! It's not as intimidating without the fangs and blood-red eyes, yet still oh-so charming. Why, the bat himself finds it positively adorable. It's one thing to have others call him cute - he now gets to witness the effect first-hand. The fact others can point your resemblance to him is just an added bonus. All you're missing now is the pink streak in your hair...can he? It would make such a lovely memory!

"Well aren't you just the most fetching gremlin this world has ever seen. Come along dear, I want to stir some youthful envy!"

Nose Picking (Inherited): Just kidding lol.

Historical Info-Dumping (Developed): One can only be corrected so many times before learning a topic inside-and-out. History lessons are a breeze with a personal dictionary at your disposal. Lilia is happy to help, but get ready for long stories with his bias weaved in-between. He never outright lies though, and it's a fine evening to sit with him by firelight and talk the night away over junk food. Treat it like hearing the story of an elder veteran. Except Lila has hundreds of stories to tell. There will come a day where your knowledge abut Twisted Wonderland extends far beyond what you ever knew of Earth - and you are the person people come to for notes. Even the studious Riddle Rosehearts trusts your word-of-mouth as much as his precious texts (only for history though, fair warning).

Speed Dial Takeout (Developed): This one is self-explanatory. Lilia's curiosity in the kitchen isn't something you want to deter him from. Let bro live his life, so long as it doesn't lead to the end of yours. It took months to find the TWST equivalent of speed-dial Chinese, yet a slip to Azul along with some recipes was enough to get the ol' ball and chain rolling. The food already exists, but you just had to plant some ideas to make sure that 3am last-second-craving availability was indeed an option.

"Don't look so glum now - once the oven is fixed I'll whip up a batch of Silver's favorite Mushroom Bisque! Ah - there's no need to cry. Now where did I put those takeout menus...." <- Now it's just Lils, Silver, and yourself chilling out at midnight with some egg rolls and moo-goo-gai pan after the fourth oven's been blown up in the past year. Thank Seven Malleus worked a plan with Azul set up a chain in Briar Valley, else y'all would starved.

Briaran (Inherited) : Briar Valley is indeed a land of tradition. You don’t need to learn their language to converse with fae. Most people in TWST are Bilingual - knowing common tongue and that of their homeland. Plus there are spells to help. Very few speak the ancient dialect from hundreds of years ago, which dwindled out after the war between man and fae with the ushering of a new generation. You already speak common tongue, but as for Lilia? Fluent in multiple languages. Ancient Briaran being one he slips in from time to time. You will undoubtably pick up many phrases of Briaran. Especially when he converses with Malleus, Silver, and on occasion Sebek. The third still a beginner to his personal chagrin. It’s like being a child in an immigrant household where your elders talk in their native tongue when they don’t want you to understand the conversation, so as a kid you gradually put together meanings through context. Y’know, as they go in between languages.

"I hadn't thought it possible to fall fall deeper in love - yet as always, you continue to surprise me." <- Lilia never asked you to learn, but nothing makes him melt faster than seeing you pick it up. You’re listening to him. He won’t ever jest over this, no matter how tempting, afraid it might deter you. He adores the way you mumble words under your breath, even if they’re mispronounced. He will only interfere if you ask, and be more than willing to teach. Ask him.

Habits He Steals:

Walking (Developed): Aside from when he's cheeky and looking to have some fun? Lilia will not float near you. He prefers to walk, feet firm on the ground, his hand in yours and enjoy the sweet serenity. There isn't a need to rush. Not anymore. Strolls with Malleus are a commonly discussed subject, but with Lilia? It's less like a sonnet in steps and more akin to walking the streets on a cold, winter night. Plenty of laughter as your linked arms swing between. Somehow slowing your steps on purpose, drawing out the time shared. Even if your lungs hurt a bit and joints are stiff. You don't have to. He could easily zip you both wherever need be, but the journey is part of the fun. He's gone his entire life at differing paces - and now Lilia is happy to match his final gait alongside yours.

Repeating Others (Developed): This goes hand-in-hand with you learning Briaran. Without prompting, Lilia will often repeat things his sons just said in common tongue. Sometimes dropping context clues so you can piece things easier. Not in a way that makes it obvious for you (sparing your feelings), but definitely noticeable to others in the Valley. It's an unspoken understanding not to ask 'why' he repeats himself two maybe three times tops.

"...eh? Scuzele mele. Ne vom întâlni în trei ore pentru antrenament. Da. Pentru practică. Asigurați-vă că nu vă zăboviți, altfel veți rata antrenamentul! - why that face, Sebek? Careful or your muscles will freeze like that khee hee!" <- Does it come unnatural? Maybe, but two out of three of his conversation partners can usually pick up when you're struggling to understand something. Sebek fails, but wouldn't dare question Lilia's speech and risk offending him. Translation: "My apologies. We'll meet in three hours for practice. Yes. For practice. Make sure you don't linger, or you'll miss practice!"

Intimacy (Inherited): Lilia is cheeky with most, but not touchy-feely. Not in the way that matters. He becomes clingy. It's odd being with someone actively seeking to be at his side all the time...and yet he does not mind. Which is unheard of for the loner - he spent 700 years of solo trips, wouldn't change a single one (okay, maybe a few. He could do without some scars), but the taste of a couple's vacation? A couple's intimacy? Romanic candle-lit dinners atop the castle ramparts, legs dangling over the edge as mindless talk comes and goes. Hiking through mountains hand-in-hand. Running raids online, shouting at each other from the next room? Sipping mimosas on a cruise ship - picking out souvenirs for your family an tasting cuisine. Even if it's places he's been before...with you? It's all new.

""You know...it was quite cruel of you to leave me behind. When? On that little journey to Fleur City, of course! Be it ten years ago or not - I understood at the time that it was a decision out of your hands, and yet you hadn't brought me any souvenirs...the hurt lingers to this very day and can only be healed through another vacation, won't you be my guide this time around?"

Normalcy (Developed): Lilia actively pushes the cute bit with others. Many portray his character as two sides of one coin: Lilia the General, and Lilia the Cheeky Prankster. What you get to see is...just Lilia. Not even Lilia The Father - because even with his kids, he has a part to play. Has to set a good example. Is it corny to say that he doesn't have to act cute for you, because he trusts you'll adore him? Isn't that what love is? To truly release your guard around him and not stress? It's like how on earth we all have our work mode, family mode, public mode, and then...well, us. The person we are when in a quiet room, alone, and simply being. That is the Lilia you, and only you, get to see. Lilia wouldn't get involved with someone that couldn't bring this side out of him. The one jamming out to metal while pretzeled on the ground, sifting through his wardrobe and eating burnt crisps out of a bag with chopsticks.

Time (Developed): In his last hundred years of life, with his magic dwindling, Lilia casts a glamour that lets him physically age with you. Not technically a habit, but also something he would never have spared the energy on without you as a deciding factor. Time comes for us all. He’d rather not emphasize this to his sons more than necessary…but they’ll watch you age. In an odd way, this is Lilia’s greatest ode to you. To them. To himself. You won’t have to age alone, watching him in a standstill as he’s been the past 700 years. This is his final thrilling experience, his final adventure- to grey and feel time in his blood beyond magic.

"You are as lovely as the day we first met, dear...surely I'm just as cute too, no?" <- No matter how quick you reply, he still is the same cheeky lil shit at 780 as he was at 700. Only with one heavy case of arthritis.

Nicknames (Developed): Lilia calls you ‘Dove’ for reasons best derived on your own rather than my telling. He will also be an ass and use teasing ones like 'shnookums' and 'poppet', but dove is for the softer times. On very rare occasions he will say ‘inima mea’ which is Romanian for My Heart, also known as Briaran in the world of TWST.

"Why, thank you! Kee hee hee, is it so obvious that I adore my little dove beyond comprehension? I've finally found my 'partner-in-crime' as you kids say, and my days have not been this lively in many years. Humor the musings of this old-timer, enjoy the blessings life offers while they are within your grasp." == Those who have lived as long as Lilia in Briar Valley are witnesses to his personality change. The general from hundreds of years ago is not the same bat flying about. He's a prime example for fae and humans alike that time changes us all - and so he doesn't mind popping in to humor gossiping soldiers. If anything, he hopes his open adoration serves as an example that it's never too late to welcome sweeter things in life. Family, friends, adventure, and even the once in a lifetime 'eternal love'.

Habits you steal:

Calling Lilia ‘Dad’ (Inherited?): Not Father. Just Dad. Daddio. Peepaw. Pops. Ye old man. So informal. So funny. Lilia loves it and Silver turns red every time. One? Because you’re already thinking of him and his Father as your family. Two? Please. Please, let him breathe. Flustered is the most consistent emotion he shows aside from that graceful little smile of his, and people are starting to notice. He’s not used to such bluntness and it’s killing him. You need to be more careful! Not everyone knows about his situation! Lilia is such cheeky as shit over it and teases his son every off moment. Welcome to the Vanrogue’s, my friend. It’s a clusterf*ck. You’re going to love it.

“…N-no, I haven’t seen father since lunch. Perhaps check over near the club rooms. I can escort you before my next lesson, come along and take my hand.” -> Silver will never get used to you asking ‘Hey, have you seen Dad anywhere?’. He bites back the warning for you to lower your volume. It’s turmoil - truly. He doesn’t want you to ‘stop’ per-say…but maybe keep it in private? He adores your energy but the rumors.

Compliments (Inherited): Silver gets plenty of compliments. He’s amazing, after all. This is a habit because his reactions are priceless. Why is it developed? Because the man in question is the most wholesome being to exist. He effortlessly drops one-liners out of thin air, and then has the gull to act confused when you clutch at your chest. Silver is brutally honest when it counts. His words and his reactions are genuine. Truly priceless. His confidence desperately needs that bolstering, so much that you never go a single visit without paying him a compliment. It’s only fair. You do it until he takes them with anything other than a pass off or a denial. Even after, because appreciating Silver is the best part of your day. Congrats. You’re a simp. Big Ol’ simp - side note, being so forward for his sake has turned you confident in other aspects of life as well. Congrats on being the social one.

"Your hands are unnaturally soft for a student. Perhaps I am used to callus' from training, but yours are warm enough to feel through my gloves. I heard once that you can tell a lot about a person by their hands. Yours must reflect a gentle personality, which is true - hm? What's wrong?" <-Wholesome. Fucking wholesome.

Animals (Inherited): How do you feel about woodland creatures? Would you consider raising bunnies, or leaving the window open in the mornings for songbirds to perch? The answer is yes. Always yes. Otherwise they will whack at the glass until you do. Silver is beloved by nature. Being around Silver means being around all the animals that perch at his side when he clocks out in random places. Eventually you'll be waiting with birdseed in your pocket, prepped to distract those that perch on his head. Ramshackle has multiple bird baths out in the gardens, and you've built shelters for the wildlife on campus to camp out in when they visit (always when Silver does. Coincidence? No).

Just Chilling (Developed): Not relationship-exclusive. Any time you find Silver clocked out, it’s instinctual to just drop everything and lay down next to him so it looks like you’re both chilling out. Doesn’t matter if he’s asleep for ten minutes or two hours - you don’t leave him. Not unless someone trustworthy comes to take your place.

Haircuts (Developed): A lil snip here, a chop there - and you're cutting his hair in the kitchen at 9:00pm with one of the old sheets tied loosely around his neck like a bib. All it took was one time for him to nick his ear while doing it himself, and you so graciously forced him in a chair. Now you cut both his and his father's hair. Since Lilia's a little turd, and if Silver gets a freebie than so should peepaw. Briar Valley could use another stylist, y'know. You already have two loyal clients!

"Thank you. My bangs can get in the way of my training, so I try to keep them short. Maybe I should adapt a cut similar to Kalim's?....Why are you looking at me like that?" <- Kalim's hair is adorable, but if Silver cuts off his shimmering silk-soft locks it will literally be a crime against cosmetology.

Alarms (Inherited): You sleep through alarms. There isn't much to say. Have you seen his bedroom? There's like - a dozen clocks in there. The only one that gets him up is you, usually whacking him with a pillow because no amount of love will ever make up for dealing with nonstop ringing every morning. You started off having a near heart attack on the first night. A few years down the road, and it takes about 2-4 of the clocks to go off before you're up.

The Way Of The Sword (Inherited and Developed?): Another one without much to elaborate. Silver insists on teaching you some swordsmanship. He does not play around either, and is a very stern teacher. Lilia engrained the danger of weaponry and battle into him from childhood.

"Steel your nerves. They will only impede your progress. Do not worry about anything other than my instruction while there is a blade in your hand. I am here for that." <-The sword exists to protect, but that does not mean you are invincible. He won't put you through a Knight's training - but as one of the few 'sane' people? Homie, you really need to learn some self defense. It isn't even about his feelings (although he does worry).You are a walking magnet for bad luck, and a firm understanding of defensive combat is necessary so you don't end up dead in a ditch.

Habits He Steals:

Wet Wipes (Developed) : It’s so tempting to draw on Silver when he’s complete zonked out in the ninth dimension. How he hasn’t woken up to any uh…hehe, ‘special’ and ‘totally not vulgar’ images all over him on a daily basis is an honest shock. Especially in a campus full of dudes. Some not so friendly with the whole dorm rivalry going on. Then again…maybe it’s his aura. Drawing a dick on Silver’s forehead feels like a crime punishable by Lilia’s homemade gazpacho.

"...I sense a disturbance." <- Regardless. It’s your civic duty to make him a work of art…much to Silver’s reluctant compliance. Some day’s it’s heartwarming. He’ll wake up and find little hearts on his cheeks, or a note on his collarbone. A lipstick kiss left smack center of his forehead…which takes endless scrubbing to get off before equestrian club. "Mngh...ah, you're here father? I could smell jasmine and oakwood and thought - wait, isn't that MC's pencil case?" <- Other days Silver wakes up covered in tic tac toe games with his father snickering over him and your form making a speedy guilt-ridden retreat off in the distance - and yes, Ramshackle smells of Jasmine and Oakwood. From repairs and the herbal cleanings.

You’ve Got Mail (Developed): Squirrels make good messengers. It helps that you live in a dilapidated dorm with a lovely forest not too far for them to skitter about. It would be troublesome if you lived somewhere like Heartslabyul…Riddle would never allow Silver’s animal friends to stay. Since you’re so open to suggestion, and skittering about yourself, he’s made a habit out of using the animals for communication.

"Please take this gift to them, would you? Today is a special day, I must take precautions not to forget." <- He’s not too big on phones since he might pass out and miss a call…or forget. So Silver likes to pen his notes when he can and trust his little buddies to make sure you get them. It especially helps with big events like anniversaries or days he cannot make it home.

Mints (Inherited): Someone get this man an Altoid, stat. Whatever curse is on his ass, crack open that tin and shove three strong peppermints between his teeth. They’ll spark more than just a crack of the great beyond in him. Giving Silver a tin of strong mints is like giving a Victorian child one singular sour patch kid. You carry the things around to punish Grim. Y’all know it’s bad if the living garbage disposal won’t even eat them….now if we could just somehow compress Lilia’s cooking into a pill form, we might be onto something bigger.

"This is a remedy from your world? Oh - it's candy? Maybe it will work then...thank you. I'll update you if there are any changes."

The Open End (Developed): Silver’s precautions extend to all matters, big or small. He’s trained to be Malleus’ guard since he was a little boy, going through strict training and beyond in order to match royal standards. Some might think him cold, but his father raised him to care deeply, truly, and so he is proactive in ensuring your comfort. When at the cinema, he sits in the inner seat. Both so he’s blocking you from strangers and so you can have the chair with two arm rests. He walks on the street side of the sidewalk, shares his umbrella but covers you fully at the cost of his sleeve, gives you more of the blanket at night and once gave you his shoes when yours were pinching your toes. If there are two cupcakes, he pushes you the one with more sprinkles, and he never forgets to ask how your day is.

"Are you happy today?...I see. That's good. I've been working hard to not disappoint you as a partner. It is nice to know my efforts have been yielding results." <- Ever the hard worker. Silver works on your relationship like it's training - but not in a bad way. He just doesn't want to reflect poorly on you, especially when this is new to him and tracking his performance in a relationship isn't the same as studies or physical training. He could do with some verbal affirmations, just saying.

Smelling Salts (Developed) : Silver does not want to sleep all the time. He is determined to overcome it - and you support him by suggesting method after method. Sometimes it takes an otherworldly person to bring in new ideas? Another cook in the kitchen, y'know. Can you believe that in all of Twisted Wonderland, with their fancy shmancy potions and charms, no one thought to get him military-grade smelling salts (or trigger his fight/flight by putting a bit of Lilia's pot roast in front of his nose)? His curse is potent, but it staves the episode off just enough for him to get to a bench or out of a clearing. I swear - magic spoiled these people. It's a blessing and a curse. It's no cure but he'll take anything at this point. Who knows what other ideas you might bring.

"Mm...thank you. I am lucky to have someone as wonderful as them in my life. I strive to be a good partner and influence. Your compliment makes me quite happy. I will be sure to pass on the message." <- Silver's expressions are typically difficult to read, they're so miniscule. Yet it would take a blind man to miss the way his disposition softens. One might mistake the far-away look in his eye for an incoming siesta, but no. He's merely in love and excited to tell you how appreciative he is to have you in his life. Whatever dreams he has that night, you're in them. As always.

Habits you steal:

Volume (Inherited) : Spoken like a true Queen. Literally. Sebek’s volume blasts your eardrums like a child’s screech plugged into an amplifier broadcasted over the Night Raven intercom. Mans has his vocals, there’s no doubt about it. The thing is that Sebek won’t stop until he’s been heard, so you have to get loud for him to listen. That can be hard to tone down when he’s not around, and you have to remind yourself that Epel will hear you just fine at a level 2 not 6.

"Disrespectful! My human can speak to their desire, apologize for suggesting otherwise this very instant. It is an honor to hear their voice!" <-Aye...sometimes your volume hits the frequency where people cover their ears, just as they do for him. He misinterprets this as a smite on your freedom of speech.

Gotta Keep Up (Developed): Get those legs moving prefect. Ya gotta go sonic fast. Sebek-y long legs over here moves in big strides. Big strides for his big personality. One of his steps is the equivalent to three of yours, no matter how tall or jittery you are. He will out jitter you with his Type-A pacing. You’d think he was on a mission and not on a date with how Sebek zooms through a shopping mall. Sebek, honey, we’re here to buy clothes, not race the evil sales clerk and save Malleus from the storage room.

Bookies (Inherited): You never know when you’ll be stuck waiting around or following Malleus with him. Sometimes it’s a sacrifice you have to make for some quality time together, and it’s not so bad. Malleus is cool with it, Silver’s good company, and Lilia is mildly stressful company. You could just go on your phone to pass the time, but Sebek limits your screen time. No IPad partners or brain rot on his watch. Read a book. Don’t make him quiz you, ‘cause he will.

"I have been thinking to start a book club, and you can be the first among many initiates! This week we will be reading My Liege's autobiography as sourced from the Royal Palace. I can think of no better introduction!" <- Dear god, he'll put in the request too. Stop him. You love Malleus to pieces but 600 pages on his birth alone is just destructive.

Prim and Proper (Developed): It’s a bit hilarious that he takes personal offense when you’re not groomed properly. Especially when near Malleus (of course). If you want to follow with the troupe, you need to look the part. He’d likely ask for a Diasomnia uniform on your behalf if it wasn’t against the school dress code. Secretly though? He enjoys fixing your tie, hair, etc. It makes him feel useful but that sweet emotion gets masked by a scolding.

"Tsk. It is an honor to wear this uniform. You should take precautions to ensure your appearance doesn't reflect on Lord Malleus. As his chosen friend and my partner, you are a representative of Briar Valley. Step forward and allow me to preform an inspection." <- Sebek has more than one jealous bones in his body. They’re all jealous bones. Make sure he’s the one to fix your tie and not Rosehearts, unless you want him to sulk.

Battery Pack (Developed): Lowkey? Sebek zaps you frequently. Think the electric buzz from pulling out a plug too quick. The sparkles come out when he gets very emotional - which is all the time. So…yeah, you might secretly carry ointment for that. Don’t tell him? He feels awful. Not awful enough to stay calm when you ask him to charge your phone. Jokes on him. The anger zap brought it to 100%.

Habits he steals:

Response (Developed): Sebek has this teensey-weensey annoying habit of answering on your behalf. He thinks it a way of proving his devotion. Partners are meant to know each other down to the tiniest detail, no? So when he responds correctly, it’s like he’s passing a test by knowing exactly what you’d want.

"They will do no such thing! Your childish antics will only reflect poorly on your dormitory. You will not taint them into participating in needlessly reckless activities!" <- While his intentions are pure, the act itself can be frustrating. Especially when he puts his values in your mouth when chatting with friends. It’s a work in progress, but he will still become overzealous to order your coffee or recall your schedule if asked.

Handkerchief (Developed): Exchanging handkerchief with one’s partner was a popular courting method in the past. Considering the handkerchief Sebek carries is meant for his lord, him offering it to you is a grand gesture. Especially since he does not replace it with one meant for Malleus, as this is something exclusive to lovers, and carries one from you instead. If you don’t have one? Well - expect to get one asap. Author’s authority dictates that you will not disappoint him.

"The embroidery on this handkerchief is exquisite. According to Master Lilia, it is the same style as lacework from my homeland's establishment...and it is yours. Please accept this as a token of my affections."

Portrait (Developed): Sebek keeps your picture hidden at NRC. There's one stuck between his mattress and the boxboard, one behind his ID card in his wallet, and a small portrait he keeps taped under his deckchair. He cannot properly display it like Malleus' - partially from not wanting to disrespect his Lord and partially from bein emotionally constipated. Expect the exact opposite when he is older though. Listen. Do not try to tell me this man wouldn't commission an extra-large oil painting of his spouse to hang up in his barracks room in the palace. He's literally the blueprint of a fanboy, and if there's no available merch then us nerds get to commissioning.

Escort (Developed): Sebek Zigvolt can and will sit in the husbands' chair while you try on clothes in the store. He will carry your bedazzled hot-pink purse with pride, guarding the thing like it's worth millions. You can leave your cup with this one when at a ball worry-free. You have somewhere to be and he isn't on duty? Sebek is hot on your heels. He has no shame. Better yet? He's the one shaming anyone unable to do such simple things.

Gotta Slow Down (Developed) : Pairs with 'Gotta Keep Up' as he tries to match your stubby legs. At first Sebek attributed your slow pace to a lack of stamina, but no. He's just a jitterbug. Obviously he can't tug you along or stop every other minute for you to catch up either. It's funny watching you both try and forget to consider the other. On loop, a never-ending cycle. NRC hasn't seen a pairing like this in centuries.

Chivalry is not dead (Inherited...just not from you) : Lilia fucks with him and you’re subjected to many, many odd courting attempts…some he unironically takes a liking to.

"What must I do for you to reciprocate my intentions?! I have bestowed pearls shucked with my own hands, invited you to dance under moonlight, hung dried thyme over every door and given earthly offerings to all your kin! I implore you for transparency this instant!" <- Oh...oh, His trust in your batty elder wanes for months after being tricked so cruelly. Only until you accept (out of pity?). Then he feels guilty for ever doubting Lilia and begs for forgiveness. At least life never gets boring? Haha...hah...ha...

‘My human’ (Developed) : Sebek gets hit hard with a crippling awareness for your mental well being. He defended your 'honor' once and had it thrown in his face that he calls you a human more than your own name. Old habits die hard, and he prostrates himself on the ground as an apology. He really didn’t realize it came off so derogatory. Especially considering your relationship. Felt awful. Apologized profusely. Only says it in an affectionate way or with pride now. Tacking in the ‘my’ makes it better somehow? It's a work in progress.

"An apology is in order. My actions until now were unbecoming, and I am truly repentant. I cannot begin to beg for forgiveness, knowing that my words have struck you. I was wrong. You are no mere human, you are my human. A very special one whom I could not have foreseen in this lifetime" <- You know it's bothering him when he takes a gentle tone, looking directly in your eyes with shame open on display. Responsible enough not to look away and face his wrongdoing in the face. Even after you forgive him, Sebek will carry this lesson with him forever.

Flower preference (Inherited): In the language of flowers, which means a great deal to fae kind, he goes for the one associated with your birth month. Carries a pressed one as a bookmark, changes his cologne, and places a vase of blooms by his bedside that never seem to wilt.

"It is an honor! I shall never cease striving to improve. It is only natural that my partner does the same. Your acknowledgement is noted and appreciated. Please continue to treat them well." == Insulting Sebek is a challenge. The comment could be made with the most nasty undertone, but he only hears that you're behaving like a model citizen. You must, if you are beginning to resemble him in so many ways. Hearing that you are a positive influence on him is nothing short of baseline knowledge. Of course you are? He picked you to be his partner? Honestly. If people have time to sit around and gossip, they could go do something more productive.

Habits you steal:

Acronyms (Inherited): Does this truly come as a shock? Big L on your part if so. C'mon, this is Idia we're talking about here. Bro cannot go two sentences without pullin' some quote out of his mental backlog. Since you're stuck in TWST, not watching their culturally founding shows and cartoons is a crime. You'll be speaking in pseudo-lingo like how Spongebob quotes make their own language around these parts.

"Whehehe way to debuff your charisma stat - you might want to craft some mimic gear before Professor Trein locks ya in detention....n-not that I care! It's just that I'll have to solo tonight's raid and you're the one with the rotation buffed character!" <- On one hand? You get all his jokes and are able to translate what he says to other people. That's good. Less work for Idia. On the other hand? You get all his jokes and are able to translate what he says to other people. They're totes going to make fun of you now and it'll be his fault. You'll get lingo-lashed by professors and feel burdened and - okay. He'll shut up now.

Evil Laugh Who? Villain Where? (Inherited): We all know Idia has two modes: nerdy and sofuckingarrogantheneedsacoldshower. You know exactly when he's feeling number two via his laugh. That over boisterous 'WHEE HEE HEE' which is way too high pitched to belong to a villain but perfect for when Idia's in the zone. It comes out when you're feeling especially ecstatic or embracing your inner gremlin. A bit more subdued than his, but you've seen him do it so many times that the adaptation is subconscious.

"Ah -?! What w-was?....No! NO I DIDNT SAY ANYTHING! Just hurry up before we gotta interact with more NPCS! Awahhh my blood pressure's already spiking back up..." <- He first caught it when you insisted on playing one of those cheap festival-games outside the main market in Fleur City. All he wanted was to grab a grape juice and get back to his group before they noticed he ditched, but you saw some handstitched plushies and just like in some mainstream otome, he just had to get it for you. It was easier than sitting there watching you get cheated by a sleaze. He was amidst convincing himself that he robbed you of the fun, handing the doll over while sucking down his second grape juice when he heard it - on one hand, is this what he sounds like to other people? Scratch that. No way he's this cute - wait. No. He didn't just think that -

Gatcha (Inherited): One of Idia's go-to hangouts is playing an MMO. The dude already gave you a console as a gift for what happened at S.T.Y.X. One inkling of interest towards one of his main games and he won't hesitate to build you a PC. He'll take care of the maintenance and even send over some matching accessories. Ortho will be the one to drop it off of course, but it'll already be set up with whatever games he thinks you'll want to tag-team in and some extra money to explore on your own....and thus, the addiction begins.

"Hey, press this button for me real quick. I need to test something. N-no! I'm not setting you up, uggh just do it would you?" <- Your pulls are better than his and Idia can't decide if lady luck is smiting or blessing him. On one hand? Ultra rare pulls are going to a beginner account. Yet you're more likely to keep playing this way....fate truly tests the Shroud name every day.

Night Owl (Inherited and Developed): Freedom...is powerful. As the Shrouds are responsible for Blot Control, you're left with little to do at S.T.Y.X. You can work anywhere in the facility. As a lab assistant, tech maintenance, heck even the kitchens if you want - but Idia's on that night-life and likes to work when most are asleep. So you match it. Maybe not to a T - going to bed at 6:00am and waking at 4:00pm like him - but time does get a bit disoriented in a place where the sky is simulated.

"Why're you still up? This isn't a 24hr stream, y'know. Even I'm not crazy enough to do multiple all-nighters in a row...well, I'm off for now. Wanna watch the PREMO concert from last week with me?"

Vitamins (Developed): You take them. Idia is taking them. No matter what bro says - he cannot live off the Ignihyde snack machine. Get him the kiddy gummies if you have to. You started taking vitamin D in preparation for moving to S.T.Y.X in the future. Surely they've got something better than the options at Sam's, but you won't be developing Seasonal Affective Disorder anytime soon.

Snacks (Developed): A very simple kindness. Idia uses deliveries as an excuse to get you to visit Ignihyde, and in the future that doesn't change. Expect calls to do deliveries around S.T.Y.X and run 'confidential' reports whenever he's antsy for a visit. We all know he won't explicitly ask...ah, it's reminiscent of all the bogus orders he'd put in at Sams so you'd stop by.

Habits he steals:

Financial 'Responsibility' (Inherited): You both are very bad with money - and by bad? I mean that Idia is a jerk who thinks he can solve everything with money. Minor red flag - something to address. Definitely the type to apologize by sending an unnecessarily gigantic stuffed bear or something akin since he's afraid of saying something that will make it worse. Then pray you don't say anything as he stews over a fight like 12hr simmering sauce.

"Please spare me your double-standards the next time you're shoving vitamin water in my snack stash. SRSLY, Headmaster's a worse deadbeat than I thought if you're living like this....uh, don't tell him I said that" <- On the flip side, he's also flippant with that Shroud inheritance and will buy stuff on your behalf all the time. He's the type to go 'Oh, I thought it was going to be more. You live like this?' when wiring you money for groceries (because Grim ate your allowance in tuna smh). As for how you're bad? You're just flat broke man, so he's responsibly irresponsible as a result.

Vitamins Again (Inherited): Bro. Bro, genetics are making you pale but that diet is what is making those eyebags so prominent despite having a decent skincare routine. You need Vitamin D but he needs the whole spectrum. His potassium is so low, that you'll be staring him down with a plate of cooked salmon in one hand and a bottle of vitamins in the other. Is it pushy? Sure, but you don't want him keeling over within the next decade. Eat the vitamins or it's time to raid his search history. Ortho, get them medical reports out stat.

RPG (Developed): Every chance he gets, Idia will model his MC after you in an RPG. A character customization screen HATES to see this man coming, because he will sit there for hours until it is as close to your image as the system allows. You won't even know since he plays these games solo and has photographic memory to recreate you without a reference. If caught, will deny it despite the evidence being right there. Flat out takes this to the grave.

Sour Candy (Inherited): Fun fact? Citric acid is the perfect stimulant to shock someone out of a panic attack. You find the sourest candy he can tolerate, and it does it's job. If anything it creates a placebo effect, where when Idia tastes it he'll make an association with being anything but anxious. One time he ran out while stuck in a work meeting, and Ortho had to swipe a lemon from the cafeteria.

"Eugh! Sour! Sour! My tongue's gonna shrivel up like a prune! I should have knew this was a prank -" <- Proceeds to forget why he was anxious. Stops himself mid-rant, face sours realizing that you were right, apologizes under his breath and doesn't question you again.

Protective (Developed): Idia teeters the yandere line, to be fair. He's highly protective of the things he considers worth caring about - scratch that, the things he allows himself to care about - which are few. Very, very few. His self-doubt both keep this protectiveness in line while also fueling it. He is quick to convince himself that he has little right over your person, and that it's only a matter of time before his role gets snubbed or written out. Yet the moment his position becomes threatened by something he considers inferior? He hates the thought of some noface coming along and making a muck of your life. It's not his fault if you don't realize Idia's doing just that - but he'll be damned if someone else puts their two cents in, pushing him towards a bad ending.

"Hey - so uh, totally unprompted question that you can just ignore in all honesty - but what's it like living with so many ghosts? They don't give you any trouble or anything - 'cause if they do we've got a few empty rooms over in Ignihyde....only if you wanna! I mean - we're a buncha shut ins but it's pretty quiet and stuff. Okay, fading into the background now." <- Do you remember the Ghostbride? Idia does. Vividly. He also remembers you were the only person aside from Ortho who actually wanted to help him and didn't need cohersion. Stupid move on your part but he's hyper aware of the paranormal now regardless.

Sharing a bed (Developed): Unheard of. Especially since he's stated how miserable he was sharing a dorm - Idia surprises himself with this one. Not a single person would believe just how clingy bro is - but he's only clingy because 'you're' clingy - or so Idia loves to say if anyone teases him for going back on his whole 'solo for life' rants. He goes from the whole 'eww normie love bleh bleh' to 'oh you normies just don't get it because you don't have it hwee hwee'. Look. You're the one matching his sleep schedule, making him used to sharing a bed and having something other than a pillow to curl around - he didn't want to get used to it, he was adamant that this lifestyle was an absolute no-no, but now he's ten years too deep and he's screwed.

"Snkk - funny joke, Ortho. Almost got me there with that one. Inheriting any of my skills is like welcoming a one-track path straight to doomsville. You and I both know it." == Ever observant Ortho is very eager to share all the little changes he's seen in both yourself and Idia. Especially when the latter enters self-deprecation mode and is insistent that your relationship is nearing a band ending. In truth? Idia notices. He doesn't feel entirely himself anymore, and it terrifies him. Not everyone's meant for companionship, and for a long time Idia thought he was one of them. Someone perfectly content on their own with absolutely zero need for other people. Especially those hot-shot nosy hero types that would try to fix him without asking if he wanted to be 'fixed'. Thing is? You haven't pushed him to change at all - and he's freaking out because he's not supposed to want this. You're not supposed to want him.

[mangooes]

The Great (Unnecessary) Divorce Incident (sylus x non mc!wife reader)

(Name) had seen many things in her life—assassinations, high-speed chases, and even Sylus smiling while he was about to kill someone. But nothing, absolutely nothing, had ever prepared her for what she saw today.

She had been out shopping, minding her own business, when she casually passed by a jewelry store. And there, through the crystal-clear glass, she saw her husband.

Sylus.

Laughing.

With Miss Hunter.

Not just any chuckle, either. A full, amused, joyful laugh.

She blinked.

There he was, leaning close, looking at a ring as Miss Hunter teased him. His crimson eyes crinkled with laughter, his white hair slightly tousled, his expression soft.

She had never seen him that happy in a store before.

And that’s when it hit her.

Sylus must love Miss Hunter.

And honestly?

She thought it was hilarious.

Oh, what a plot twist! I fought off bounty hunters for this man, and now he falls for my best friend?

She didn’t even feel heartbroken. The absurdity of the situation was just too much.

Smirking to herself, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Time to give Sylus what he wanted after all, his freedom.

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

(Name) wasn’t a petty woman.

Okay, maybe she was a little bit petty.

But she wasn’t cruel! If Sylus really loved Miss Hunter, who was she to stand in his way?

And so, being the incredibly mature person she was, she went home and got right to work.

Step 1: She wrote a heartfelt goodbye letter, kinda-

It went something like this:

To my dearest, soon-to-be-ex-husband, First of all, I want you to know I am not mad. If anything, I find this situation absolutely hilarious. You spent so much time chasing after me, and now look at you! Falling for my best friend! Life sure is funny, huh? Don’t worry, though. I won’t make this hard for you. I’ve signed the divorce papers and packed my bags. Be happy with Miss Hunter. Oh, and don’t forget to feed Staryus our little husky boy. He likes his meals warm, not cold. Unlike your now ex-wife. Yours formerly, (Name)

Step 2: She placed all the divorce documents on Sylus’s desk in a neat stack, right in the center.

Step 3: She packed her bags.

Or at least, she tried to.

Because the moment Luke and Kieran saw what she was doing, all hell broke loose.

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

Luke and Kieran stood at the doorway, arms spread wide, blocking the exit.

"Missus," Luke started, voice filled with pure panic. "I beg you. Think this through."

Kieran nodded furiously. "Boss is going to kill us if we let you leave!"

She sighed dramatically, shouldering her bag. "Boys, boys. No need to be so emotional. Sylus has moved on. He loves Miss Hunter now."

Luke stared at her. "What."

Kieran blinked. "What."

(Name) waved a hand. "Saw them laughing and picking out a ring together. He was so happy. It’s okay, I understand." She patted their shoulders. "You’ll take care of him for me, right?"

Luke looked horrified. "Missus, I think you need to sit down."

Kieran grabbed her arm. "I think you need a doctor."

She wiggled free. "Oh, hush. No need to be dramatic. Now, if you’ll excuse me—"

Luke and Kieran threw themselves in front of the door again.

"Missus, we physically cannot let you leave," Luke said, near tears.

"You can try," (Name) said sweetly.

And then she grabbed the nearest frying pan.

Luke and Kieran gasped.

"You wouldn’t," Kieran whispered.

She smirked.

"Sorry boys. Move, or I swear on Sylus’s secret hoard stash, I will—"

She swung.

And that’s how Luke and Kieran ended up dodging for their lives as (Name) escaped out the front door.

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

Sylus walked into his office, excited to finally surprise his wife.

After all, today was the day he had picked the perfect ring.

Miss Hunter had helped him choose something, as (Name)'s best friend, she knew her more than anyone else. Something elegant yet bold, something that screamed (Name). The entire reason he had been laughing so much in the store was because they had been joking about how dramatic his wife would be when she saw it.

But as soon as he stepped inside—

Luke and Kieran stood rigid, pale, and sweating bullets.

Sylus raised a brow. “What’s with the faces?”

Then he noticed the stack of papers on his desk.

His crimson eyes darkened as he strode over, picking up the neatly folded letter on top.

He read it.

Silence.

Miss Hunter, reading over his shoulder, choked.

“Oh my god.”

Luke and Kieran took a step back.

Then—

His evol errupted

The entire stack of divorce papers disintegrated into red and black mists.

Sylus exhaled slowly, eyes flickering red with rage.

Mephisto landed on his shoulder. Cawing, ready to be deployed.

Sylus’s jaw ticked. “Find her.”

Luke and Kieran saluted. “We’re on it, boss!”

Miss Hunter was already on the phone. “Tara, I need you to do a favor for me, track (Name)’s movements. Now.”

Sylus didn’t wait.

He grabbed his jacket, his keys, and walked straight to his bike.

As the engine roared to life, his gaze was deadly.

'My wife is NOT leaving me over a STUPID misunderstanding.'

And with that—

He sped off to bring his ridiculous stubborn wife home.

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

Meanwhile (Name) was settling down in her favourite spot in the N109 Zone. It was their favourite place to visit, (Name)'s favourite coffee shop, stepping in the cafe brought her memories of the amount of time she spent with her ex-husband.

As she order her usual without a partner this time, she sat near the window, sipping her coffee, waiting for her ride to the train station to move out.

'Did i went too far..?...what if Sylus had not care at all?'

She did what she had to do, shaking her head to get rid of her negative thoughts, she smiled to herself. Imagining how she might plan her life in the future even without the man she loves.

When a familiar engine roar made her pause.

She turned her head.

A black sleek sports bike skidded to a stop.

And there he was.

Sylus.

Looking absolutely livid.

She blinked. "Oh."

Before she could even think of escaping, Sylus stalked into the cafe, crimson eyes burning with rage and disbelief.

“(Name).”

“…Hi, Hus- oh i mean Sylus,” she greeted casually, sipping her drink.

Sylus closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if mentally restraining himself.

“Explain,” he said slowly, “why I came home to divorce papers.”

She raised a brow. “Uh, because you love Miss Hunter now? Duh.”

Sylus’s eye twitched.

“Sweetie.” He leaned down, placing a hand on the table, trapping her in place. “Do you know what Miss Hunter and I were doing at that store?”

She smirked, wiggling her eyebrows as if challenging him. “Buying a ring for your new woman?”

Sylus’s eye twitched. Then, without a word, he pulled out the ring box, popped it open, and held it in front of her face.

Inside sat a gorgeous, carefully chosen crimson ruby ring.

For her.

She stared.

“…Wait.”

"This is your ring, sweetie. Did you think i would let you go so easily?" Sylus deadpanned.

She blinked. Looked at the ring. Then at Sylus. Then back at the ring.

"...Oh."

Sylus groaned, dragging a hand down his face, he laughs about the absurd situation in front of him right now.

Then he gently carried her, threw her over his shoulder, and walked out.

"SYLUS—"

"Less talking now, kitten. We’re going home."

People in the café watched in amusement as a laughing kicking (Name), like a misbehaving kitten was carried off by her furious husband.

“SYLUS, PUT ME DOWN!” she shrieked, smacking his back.

He did not.

Instead, he adjusted his grip on her thighs, completely ignoring the stares of the café patrons. Some people gasped. Others whispered. A few even took out their phones to record the absolute spectacle of a very powerful-looking white-haired man casually kidnapping his wife.

She huffed. “You’re embarrassing me!”

Sylus snorted. “Oh, I’m embarrassing you? Sweetie you were about to divorce me."

"Then how was I supposed to think when i saw you like that huh?!?!"

Sylus stopped walking. Then, in one fluid motion, he pulled her from his shoulder, flipped her around, and held her in his arms bridal-style instead.

He leaned in, voice dangerously low.

“And you,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers, “could’ve not written a divorce letter without talking to me first.”

(Name)’s breath hitched.

Damn it.

He always did this—turning the tables at the last second, making her stomach flip, making her feel stupidly in love even after she just tried to end their marriage.

“...Sorry,” she admitted.

Sylus smirked, kissing her temples. “Good girl.”

She immediately scowled.

And then bit his hand.

"Ouch—!"

Miss Hunter’s call came through Sylus’s earpiece.

“Did you find her?”

“Oh, I found her, a stray kitten waiting for its owner to pick up.” Sylus said dryly, tapping her thigh in warning as she kept wiggling.

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

The moment Sylus stepped through the door, still carrying his wife (despite her multiple attempts to be put down), Luke and Kieran visibly sighed in relief.

“Missus! You’re alive!” Luke practically cried.

Kieran clutched his heart. “Boss, thank god. We thought you were gonna start a war or something—”

Sylus glared. “Don’t tempt me.”

Both men immediately straightened up.

Meanwhile, Miss Hunter stood in the corner, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with a deeply exasperated expression.

“So,” she drawled, “you wrote an entire goodbye letter just because you thought Sylus loved me?”

(Name) crossed her arms. “In my defense, you were laughing together. It looked suspicious.”

Miss Hunter rolled her eyes. “We were laughing about you, (Name).”

She winced.

Right.

“…Oops?”

Sylus sealed his promise to never let his wife go with a kiss on the lips. "You're lucky I love you."

Miss Hunter sighed. "She really is."

Luke and Kieran nodded solemnly.

Sylus sighed. “I swear, next time you pull something like this, I’m chaining you to our bed.”

She perked up.

“Oh?” she teased, smirking. “Kinky.”

Sylus groaned, amused.

Miss Hunter facepalmed.

Luke and Kieran? Died laughing.

Just another normal day in the Onychinus household, well maybe not so normal afterall.

I can't write angst so i write comedy instead haha- anyways i hope this is not too ooc for sylus but this scenario just came up to my head last night and i had to write it

[gguk-n]

Daddy Dearest (Oscar Piastri Dad fic)

Summary- Oscar is a girl dad.

There weren't many people who had Oscar wrapped around their little finger, except Amelia Piastri. Almost 2 years old and she could make Oscar dance like a chicken on the drop of a hat.

Oscar had met Amelia's mother and the love of his life, Y/N when they were in high-school. They started dating soon after. The year Oscar was a reserve driver for Alpine; he might not have been busy racing but he was busy with his girlfriend. The whole Alpine-Mclaren fiasco brought us baby Mia. It was a usual Thursday, Y/N had been stressing out about missing her period for the second time this month when she had regular periods since she could remember. A thought passed through her; it had been floating around in her head since last month. What if she was pregnant? Oscar and her had always been safe; but not a single contraceptive was a hundred percent perfect. So, without informing Oscar, she went to the store and bought a few tests. When the first one said positive, she did another and then another. By now Oscar had become aware of his missing girlfriend who was coup-ed up in their bathroom for the past half hour. He was knocking on the door; "babe, is everything okay? You've been in there since you returned" But when no reply came; the knocking became more rapid and worried. "Y/N, are you ok? Please answer. You're stressing me out" he begged. Then the door opened slightly. A tear stained Y/N was peaking her head out. Oscar pushed the door open and hugged her. He was scanning the room as his girlfriend's body shook slightly; that's when he saw it; pregnancy tests. He pulled away to look at her; "Have you been busy taking those pregnancy test?" he asked. "How do you know what they are?" she hiccuped. "I've watched TV growing up" he smiled. She nodded and handed the 3 tests to him. They all read pregnant in bold letters. Oscar was over joyed; "Are we gonna be parents?" he shouted. "You're not angry?" she asked. "Why would I be? I get to have kids with the love of my life. Best thing that could ever happen to me" he stated. For the first time since she got the tests, she smiled. "Aren't we too young though?" she asked. "Yes, but I could take on the world with you by my side" he said kissing her. "You'll be the best dad ever" she told him. "You'll be the best mum ever" he said. The pair stayed in each other's embrace for a long time. Oscar will never admit it but he cried and then went on reddit to research what to do as a first time dad.

Amelia was born the next year when Oscar was busy racing. He wasn't able to be there for the birth of his daughter; he might have called his mother and cried about being a shitty dad from the get-go. But his father later consoled him and told him it would be fine. Oscar flew out the first chance he got to be with his girlfriend who was being taken care of by both their parents. The first time he held Amelia, he had started crying as soon as she opened her big brown eyes and looked at him. She was an exact copy of him when he was a baby, at least that's what his mother said. Y/N had to console him instead of the baby. He was sat there with his arms wrapped around Y/N who held their daughter for a really long time. Y/N had fallen in love with the name Amelia after watching the Princess Diaries growing up and Oscar wasn't about to argue with Y/N about naming their daughter after the Queen of Genovia. That's how she was named "Amelia Opal Piastri"

Oscar kept them hidden from the world after they had mutually decided not to tell anyone except their close friends and family which some how, had now included Lando Norris, much to Oscar's dismay since his daughter from the moment she could speak called Lando her twin; Oscar hated it, he was just dad or daddy when she wanted something but Lando was her best friend and twin. Lando took great joy in having to be able to steal Amelia away. Lando was helping Oscar move since he'd been staying in Monaco longer and moving with a kid wasn't easy. Mia was being very difficult today until she saw her Uncle Lando and jumped out of Oscar's arms running to Lando. "Lan, I mwiss you" she pouted raising her hands as if to signal him to carry her. Lando quickly scooped her in his arms, kissing her cheeks which elicited giggles. She wrapped her arms around Lando's neck and turned to her dad sticking her tongue out making Oscar pout. "Come here, you're my princess" he whined. "NO. I wan Lan" she said and hugged him tighter as Oscar tried to pull her away. "Oscar, behave. We have a lot of work to do. If Lando can watch over her while we unpack, that'll be great." Y/N said kissing her daughter's cheek and giving Lando a hug. Reluctantly Oscar agreed to let Lando play with her while he got the house unpacked.

While the two unpacked, Lando kept their little princess entertained. "Lan, do you vroom vroom fast?" she asked playing with the race cars she had. "Yeah" he nodded. "my daddy, vroom vroom" she paused for a moment to think, "fast more, win, wohooo" she said jumping up when the Oscar car she was playing with won and Lando's car came in second. Obviously, Mia was growing up watching racing; her dad was a F1 racer. Lando laughed when she jumped up; "Uncle Lando won many races too" he said. "My daddy win 2 races" she said looking at her fingers, counting them and holding up 2. She looked proud of herself for holding the correct number of fingers, Lando was proud too.

All that playing had tired her out; she was now laying on Lando's chest mumbling gibberish about how Leo could fly while he patted her to sleep. Oscar came back to find his daughter peacefully asleep. "I hate that she likes you more than me" Oscar stated watching the two. "Who said that?" Lando tried to control his laugh. "You can see right now" Oscar pointed out. "Mate, she loves you so much. All we talked about was how her daddy is so fast and has won 2 races." he added. Oscar smiled, "I'll put her in her room, we just got done with that" he said slowly taking her to her bed.

The house would take a few more months before they would be able to be done completely. Mia was already enjoying her play dates with Leo and Roscoe. Alex and Leo would be over a few times a week since Mia would pester Alex to come over with Leo. Leo loved Mia so much, the two would always be seen rolling around on the floor or running after each other. They never seem to tire out until they did and then they would be cuddling each other in their sleep on the couch. Roscoe was an older dog and he had seen quite a few children, he kept Mia more tame if that was possible. He would look out for her and protect her from harms way. He was very protective of her; it was very adorable to watch.

During the break, Oscar was spending the 3 weeks with his family. Y/N had been taking the bulk of parenting their 2 year old which did make Oscar feel guilty and he would try to give her as much me time when he was around as possible. "It's time for a daddy-daughter date" Oscar cooed at Mia as he carried her to get dressed. "What does my princess wanna eat today?" he asked plopping her on the changing table. "I want dino and fries and juice and white icey and tuddles" she cheered. She couldn't say Vanilla ice cream yet so it was white icey and cuddles were tuddles which Oscar hoped she wouldn't out grow. Oscar changed her into a pink tutu on her request. The two of them sat on the sofa watching Bluey with their dino nuggets, fries and a juice. Once she was done eating, half the fries were in Oscar's mouth but who was counting; he got out the ice cream and this was the one food item she would not share with anyone. The latest episode they were watching finished up and Mia was cuddling her dad. Oscar rubbed circles on her back to help her fall asleep; "I love you my angel" Oscar whispered kissing her head. "I wuv you my daddy" she whispered kissing his chest. She had seen her mum do this a few times and Oscar's heart swelled up watching her imitate her mum.

Oscar and Y/N were busy setting up another room in their house when Mia found Oscar's phone unlocked. No one knew how she got onto Instagram but she did and ended up taking a picture of her face and posting it as a story. Within minutes Oscar and Y/N's phones were blowing up. Y/N saw messages from her friends and family to check Oscar's story; Oscar had already seen what his daughter did. The next race was gonna be so fun trying to explain who that was.

The driver's group chat was going crazy, they couldn't stop laughing about how Mia posted herself. The other drivers joked that she was sick of not being able to attend races so she decided to hard launch herself. McLaren's PR team was making a story up which Oscar shut down quickly. He had been dating Y/N for a long time and had a family with her, he wasn't about spin some shitty tale about it being someone else's daughter. This was the final push that Oscar needed to strike the iron when it was hot. Oscar would propose now; the ring he had bought was burning a hole in his pants for a while now.

oscarpiastri

Liked by landonorris, mclaren and 2,367,458 others tagged y/n.y/l/n

oscarpiastri To a lifetime of forever with the loves of my life💍🧑‍🧑‍🧒

landonorris Mia is so cute in all the pictures, I'm stealing her👀👀 oscarpiastri landonorris NO YOU CAN'T HAVE HER😤😤 alexandrasaintmleux next Leo-Mia playdate when??🥹❤️ y/n.y/l/n alexandrasaintmleux Mia says tomorrow❤️❤️ logansargeant my fav Piastri is growing up so fast😭 Liked by the author mclaren such a beautiful family🧡 y/n.y/l/n mclaren I remember you trying to break it up 😐😐 mclaren y/n.y/l/n I was following orders, I didn't wanna do it🥲🥲 user1 too many things, I can't process it🤯 user2 he has a girlfriend, a daughter and got engaged all in one post🤯😭 user3🤯🤯🤯🤯 user4 Congratulations Oscar!!🧡🧡🧡 lewishamilton Congratulations you two!! ❤️❤️Mia said Roscoe is the ring bearer Liked by y/n.y/l/n charles_leclerc my beautiful granddaughter😭 user5 the Leclerc family is expanding at an alarming rate😱😱 user6 user5 does that make Leo her uncle??🤔 user7 What's her name?? user8 Mia is the cutest name for the cutest baby😍😍 user9 can't wait to watch her become a formula one driver😪 user10 only known her 2 days but if anything happens to her, I’ll kill everyone and then myself user11 the last picture🤤🤤 we might be getting baby no. 2🤭🤣

[mercurial-chuckles]

I loved Subdue so much. I was wondering if you had an idea if it was switched and Bucky and his Omega in a situation of sorts.

That's my girl!

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!F!Reader Warnings: Mature Content | Minors DNI | Dialogue Rich | Fluff | Smut | Unhinged Alpha!Bucky | Posessive! Bucky | Wall sex | Edging!? | Language | Good friend Sam | one non-descriptive bruise | Omega!Reader to the rescue of another omega | One punch to a misogynistic pig (Bucky didn't get his hands on the said pig yet) | Lemme know if I'm missing anything | WC: ~2.6k A/N: Eeeee! I'm so glad you enjoyed Subdue. Thank you for sending this ask, my sweet anon! I'd like to think that Steve has a rebellious streak while Bucky tends to handle things more subtly. This is how, I believe, Bucky would go about it. I hope you enjoy reading! I'm going through a weird case of 'trembles before publishing,' you see. Kindly be gentle with me. Some validation would mitigate fears (so I've heard 🙂‍↕️🥹) This is my submission for the 108th Birthday Celebration of our dearest Sgt. I was so excited for this event, and I really, really, really wanted to write for his birthday, but things didn't pan out the way I'd anticipated. Anyhoo, don't mind me MARCHing into Madness! I'll try and finish as many squares as I can. 🩷🥹 Thank you for hosting this event @avengers-assemble-bingo 🫂😘 Prompt: That's My Girl! (Being too creative with my title now, aren't I? 🤭) Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

****

Thud.

Sam closes his car door and straightens up, his gaze scanning up and down the street before turning to you. His car is parked along the curb on the two-way road before the small convenience store. He's carrying what surely looks like a first-aid kit, and you audibly groan.

"I'm fine, Samuel." You call out from where you're sitting on the sidewalk. Sam rolls his eyes. At least, that's what you gather in the dusky lights of the empty streets. He checks both ways and crosses briskly.

The weather's turned awfully cold since last night. A sharp gust wafts over the bruise on your hand, and it stings.

Ouch!

But you won't admit that to Sam. He's a worrier. Plus, a high chance he'll dramatize the extent of the situation and relay it to Bucky.

He lowers himself beside you, cuts through the sealed wrapper, and pops open the latch on the first-aid kit.

"Brand new?" You muse. Another gust of wind has you flinching, and Sam's frown deepens.

"She's fine. She says," he mutters under his breath. You roll your eyes but let it slide. You need first aid, but you definitely don't need the fuss.

"Are you gonna tell him?" You ask, voice barely audible. Sam doesn't immediately answer. He tips the isopropyl alcohol over your bruise.

"OWW!!!" You yelp, jerking slightly as the sting shoots up your arm. Sam stops for a second, giving a little respite before he's tending the bruise.

After a painfully long minute of hissing as he applies Neosporin, you ask again. "Sam," you say, watching as he secures the gauze around your forearm. He simply hums.

"Are you gonna tell him?" You ask again, firmly this time.

"And what? Tell him his girl went Karate Kid on some alpha who happens to be a cop? And that I came in time to intervene but didn't finish the bastard off? Your man will kill me. So, no, thank you." Sam says, his tone resolute.

You sigh in relief.

"You'll do it, anyway," he adds casually.

"What do you mean I'll do it?" You narrow your eyes.

"We both know you will," he says in a sing-song voice, annoyingly so, which very much gets on your nerves because he's right.

It's hard to keep things from Bucky. A minute shift in your mood, and he knows. Maybe it's the bond. Maybe you're just a simp for him. And now, you're kinda fearing the consequences because you just beat an alpha--albeit a conceited, misogynistic pig--and a cop. And you're afraid of what fate Bucky will decide for him.

"I could just tell him I fell, you know?" You insist indignantly.

"Uh-huh," Sam deadpans as he rises to his feet. He eyes you carefully. "How's that leg? You good to walk?"

You nod. "You'd make an amazing chiropractor as a side gig, Mr. Falcon." And it's not a lie--your leg feels much better now. You take his extended hand and slowly stand up.

"Who knows? Maybe that's what I'll retire with," Sam muses.

"Sure," you joke. Sam can't stay away from saving the world--that's a fact!

"I'll tell Steve we'll have to postpone the lunch plans for tomorrow," Sam reminds, gesturing toward your bruise.

"Oh. Yeah. Also, do not tell Steve about this…"

"I won't," he assures you. "I'll make up some excuse. We don't need two angry alphas on the loose." You agree.

He helps you into your car and waits. "Sure you can drive alright?"

"Like I said before, I'm fine," you smile.

He nods. "Now, get home safe and shoot me a text. Alright?"

"Alright."

Sam turns, walking to his car across the street. "And Sam?" You call after him. He pauses mid-step and turns.

"Thank you," you say sincerely. And you mean it. Because if Sam hadn't been there, things might've turned into a real mess.

Thank god for Sam needing groceries at this deserted hour. Thank god for Sam choosing this particular store. Thank god for Sam's vigilant eyes.

Sam nods once. "Don't thank me. Just think about whether you can manage to not poke the Bucky bear?"

"Oh, I will," you assure him with conviction.

Bucky's supposed to come tomorrow around noon. As for how you're gonna break it to him, you'll have enough time to practice. You could totally make up a story and say you stumbled and fell. Will he buy it? You're just gonna try really hard. Maybe that blue lacy number will come in handy.

Yes.

You got this!

You totally got this!

~

You don't got this!

You should've known better.

When Bucky calls you a couple of hours later, you don't immediately pick up. He calls again, and you do answer the second time--but not before taking a few deep breaths, psyching yourself up not to spill your guts.

Half a minute into the conversation, he's asking--demanding--what's wrong. And for a fucking second, you thought you were doing an amazing job.

Ugh!

So, you do tell him in bits and pieces, trying to say it as smoothly, as passively as possible--hoping, nay, praying that your alpha isn't about to go on a bone-breaking fest.

'There's this man, Bucky. He was misbehaving with a poor girl--seemed to me like an unmated omega, you see. I had to tell him off. But don't worry, Sam was there, too. We also ensured the girl got home safe.'

'But I hurt my hand in the process, though. Nothing deep.'

'Just a bruise,' which hurt like a bitch. You don't tell him the latter part, of course.

'But Sam had an ointment, and it's almost healed.' Lie. You'll probably go see a doctor if the pain doesn't subside.

Technically, you didn't lie. Right?

"I love you. Stay home, and don't move your ass," Bucky growls into the phone.

"Bucky, I'm home. And I'm perfectly fine, okay?" You assure him.

You hear a sigh. It's an angry sigh. Marred with frustration and helplessness.

"Alpha, I love you," you say gently. And you can feel the shift in his mood through the phone. Then, Bucky purrs. You feel an instant soothing calmness wash over you. He chuckles, low and deep, and you smile.

"I love you so fucking much," he rasps.

"I'll see you in a few hours." He adds. This part sounds more like he's assuring himself.

"I'm eagerly waiting," you whisper.

Post-mission sex is usually unhinged. In fact, Bucky's a very touchy person with you, and any distance makes him antsy. He rarely takes long missions, but this one just needed his expertise.

You glance down at the neatly tied gauze on your forearm. Maybe you should switch it out for a smaller bandage and make it look less intense.

Anything to convince him that you're fine.

Before you fell asleep, you texted Sam, saying, 'The bear is poked, Sam. The bear is very much poked.' Little did you know, Bucky had called Sam to drill him with questions and got all the details he needed. To be fair, you both didn't stand a chance with Bucky Barnes. Now, did you?

****

Bucky's got a list.

Not the amends list.

A priority list. A simple one, too.

First? You. Always you.

Second? The assholes who mess with you.

And he makes it a point to rearrange their guts in whatever way he pleases. No one fucking harms you and gets away with it.

'I handled it, Bucky,' You'd told him on the call, and Bucky knows you did.

You're capable. Smart like a whip.

'Bucky, he's a cop!' Sam warned him earlier, which meant, 'Don't dare be stupid about it.'

Cop or not, that fucktard of an alpha messed with you. His omega. His mate. His girl. He's absolutely going to pay that shithead a visit! It's customary.

~

Bucky likes to think he did heed Sam's words, 'Be rational, Bucky.'

He walks down the elongated, winding paths and knocks on the door at the far end of the hallway. The water dripping from the faulty water cooler at the entrance down the hallway is achingly loud to his enhanced ear.

No response.

Bucky understands it's 3 AM, but he's got a jet scheduled to take the team home in 5 hours. With the pretext of going for a walk--which is what Bucky told Steve--he drove half an hour to get here. Bucky's in a hurry and impatient. He knocks again, more forcefully this time.

"Hold on!" he hears the frustrated voice, followed by some curses, and then footsteps approach.

The door creaks open.

"Wha…" The green-eyed man stops mid-word, eyes widening in shock, clearly taken aback to see the former Winter Soldier standing at his doorstep.

Rhodey Mitts looks just as lanky and pale. He reminds Bucky of Steve before the serum. Except taller. And definitely paler.

Bucky doesn't miss the way Rhodey stiffens, shoulders twitching as he rocks back on his heels, trying his absolute best to look casual.

Subtly, Bucky takes a step back, just enough to avoid spooking the omega, who looks like he might faint.

"I need your help," Bucky says evenly, leaving introductions aside, knowing fully that Rhodey knows who he is. At least the tactile suit and metal arm are a dead giveaway. The last time he visited the kid, Bucky was just out of Wakanda and sporting an entirely different look.

Rhodey scratches his neck and clears his throat. He finally looks Bucky in the eye, "Look. I don't wanna get into any trouble…"

"You won't," Bucky pipes in, assuring.

Rhodey seems to think for a painstakingly long minute, and Bucky adds, "I just need to see security footage. Pike Street in Brooklyn. Around evening."

That piques Rhodey's curiosity.

"Look, a cop's involved, and I can't be snooping around on official channels being an…Avenger." Bucky begrudgingly explains.

It's fucking annoying how every little thing gets flagged, and then HR sucks his soul like a dementor. Hopefully, Tony and Steve quicken the process of breaking the Avengers' coalition with SHIELD protocols.

Thankfully, that explanation seems enough for Rhodey, who opens the door wide.

Bucky follows him through a narrow, inconspicuous door set into the false wall, stepping into a small, dimly lit room lined with countless monitors. It's barely big enough for one person, and the damp, overworked air conditioner croaks in protest. Bucky crouches slightly, leaning against the empty side wall to avoid hitting his head.

"Address," Rhodey asks as he boots up a monitor.

Bucky repeats the location, adding an approximate time. After a few attempts and tapping into various commercial surveillance feeds, he finally sees what he's here for.

"You… you can sit and watch… I'll… I'll just…" Rhodey gestures vaguely before stepping aside and standing to make space for the supersoldier.

Bucky doesn't mention that he can see the screen just fine from across the room, but he takes the seat anyway, rolling out the tension in his neck.

The video zooms to an empty street, and then he sees movement. A girl is walking down the street, and not far behind her, there's a guy.

The asshole, Bucky thinks.

Bucky switches to another angle, his breath hitching when he sees you stepping down from the car and hastily walking toward the duo. You interfere, and although Bucky can't hear a word, he comprehends you threatening the man, and the man loses his grip on the scared girl.

Though he already knows you handled it and made it home safe, his chest tightens, and his pulse spikes the moment he sees the man grab your forearm. In the next second, you land a sharp punch, catching the guy off guard. He stumbles but quickly regains his wits, then lunges, trying to choke you.

Big mistake.

You let him get closer, twist sharply, and using his waist as leverage, deliver a brutal kick to his gut and groin.

Bucky stares at the screen, surprised, a breathy sigh escaping him. His cock twitches. Thank goodness for the tactical pants.

"Who's the Wonder Woman?" Rhodey's breathy chuckle snaps him out.

Though Bucky can't help the pride swelling in his chest, he exclaims a little too pointedly, "That's my girl," and Rhodey quickly shifts his gaze away in an apology.

"Need his bio." Bucky nods toward the screen.

Rhodey gets to work, and in less than five minutes, Bucky knows all he needs to know about Trevor Gallar.

And now, Bucky knows exactly where to find him. He'll deal with him once he gets back home. But first, he needs to see you and feel you to make sure you're alright. He's gonna have to hurry Steve up to get home.

****

It's a mild morning, unlike yesterday. The clock ticks a quarter past eight. You've just made a cup of coffee and go to take a sip when you hear the shuffle at the door.

Your stomach clenches. Bucky isn't supposed to come until the afternoon. Then who the hell is it?

You don't waste time overthinking. Placing the coffee mug down, your fingers curl around the handle of a knife nearby.

Just in case. You can't be too careful.

Where the fuck is your phone? You tremble, scanning the room, trying to recall where you left it in your half-dazed state after waking up. But no sign of it.

Your pulse pounds against your ribs as you take a slow, deliberate step into the living room, knife steady in your grip.

The door swings open, and your gasp catches in your throat in relief and surprise

"Bucky?"

He stands there, in the doorway, looking unrealistically gorgeous in his dark, tactile suit.

He looks lethal.

Feral.

You know you're weak for him in that suit.

Actually, you're weak for him. Period.

He knows you're weak for him too.

His deep blues entrance you, and you blink, smiling at him. A second later, he's on you.

With dizzying speed, he disarms you expertly, the knife slipping from your grasp as you're pinned against the wall beside the door. His cold lips are chasing yours, hungrily devouring.

You feel all his emotions. Frustration. Relief. Claim. Everything. His metal fingers sneak up your top, his winding arm pulling you closer and upward. You're barely standing on your toes.

When you gasp for breath, Bucky breaks the kiss. He doesn't pull away, though. He's searching your eyes, and then his eyes rake over you, scanning you from head to toe, his grip shifting to your wrist as his thumb skims the skin there, your pulse dancing to the rhythm of your heart. He places a soft kiss on your cheek as you try and even your breathing.

"Where are you hurt?" He rasps against your skin, his sharp nose against your cheek, sensually enlivening your senses.

You lift your arm and spread it slightly away from your body to show him. When you feel his grip tighten around you, your eyes take in his angry stance.

"I'm okay," you say softly, with much-needed delicateness.

His jaw tightens, "I'll be the judge of that, doll," he remarks.

After careful examination, his touch feels wanting, and you're squirming. You need his hands on you. Now.

"I can smell you…" he growls. His scent intoxicates you, driving you to the brink of misery if he doesn't touch you.

"Bucky," you moan, desperately. He's pinned your injured hand away from your body in his metal arm beside you.

"That stays there," he commands.

Before you can squirm an inch, he slips his right hand into your shorts and dips it further into your panties. You let out a breathy moan, and Bucky groans in your ear, nipping it. He moves onto biting and kissing the length of your throat and jaw. You're very well on the way to falling apart without much friction.

"What's gotten you all riled up, alpha?" you ask, voice turning into a high-pitched squeal as he cups your slickened heat.

Your free hand holds his shoulder for leverage while you try squirming in his grasp for friction, and he's kind enough to let you have it.

"You," he answers, pulling you into another breathtaking kiss. And when he retreats his hand away, you all but wail in agony.

Bucky chuckles darkly. "My sweet 'mega! I'm gonna fuck you, and you'll take it, won't you?" He rasps, unbuckling his belt and deftly pushing his tactile pants down enough.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asks, and you shake your head almost dizzily. "Just my hand," you breathe out.

He expertly pulls you into his arms, discarding your shorts and panties. Wrapping your bare legs around his torso, he spanks you hard and you let out a lewd shriek, surely scaring your neighbors.

Bucky chuckles, pleased with himself as he squeezes your ass in a tight hold and inches inside you slowly, grunting curses and then, with one long thrust, he's fully sheathed.

For all his hurry, you thought it'd be a quickie before he took you to bed, but no. He sets a languid pace making you feel every inch of him, "Now…I'll let you cum if you tell me all about how you beat the shit out of Trevor Gallar without leaving a fucking thing out," Bucky orders.

"Who… OH FUCK!" You squeal as he pounds into you making you feel every veiny inch of his cock, and you see the whole bloody galaxy at the way pleasure lights up through your body.

You're not allowed to cum? Excuse me? That's just mean. What's he talking about...Oh, fuck!

"The guy you hit yesterday outside the store," Bucky grunts in between the thrusts, fondling your tit in a firm grip. When the realization dawns on you, the reaction is instant as you clench him tightly. He growls, baring his teeth warningly, and your eyes widen.

You never mentioned that prick's name because you don't know the prick's name.

How the fuck does Bucky know then?

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[borkunlimited]

Take Your Time, Miss Deer (Sylus x Reader) - Ch. 4

In a tailor shop tucked in the calmer side of the N109 zone is a little room where all clothes of many different designs come together under the delicate hands of an unassuming deer living in the den of all sorts of beasts and sitting on them is the dragon who wears your clothes.

Your many interactions with Skye, Mr. Sylus’ messenger or-

-Sylus is waiting for you to finally figure out he is playing his own messenger.

A Deer Hybrid! Reader x Dragon Hybrid! Sylus Fic

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Hybrid AU, Suggestive Themes, Fluff, Predator/Prey, Self-Harm

Chapter Summary: Horns. Antlers. A long tail with smooth scales. A short tail. If those are gone, then both of you are almost the same, right?

Author's Note: Some lines have references to existing media. I have been playing Disco Elysium every now and then with a dash of Reverse 1999. Still going with the main themes tackled by Beastars and BNA though but you know, I really do love certain lines from these games that I just want to put it in here as well.

Enjoy!

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

4: My Dearest, Generous

A little downpour has visited the N109 zone today.

It was close to the afternoon when you heard the soft pitter patter against the windows of your studio that is steadily increasing intensity within each passing minute and you immediately rushed to close them one by one, not wanting water to get inside and ruin the patterns and the fabrics you have prepared to sew for tomorrow.

You were about to close the last window when a small, dark figure zoomed past you, spreading droplets on the wooden floor.

It looks like your odd little crow friend has decided to take shelter here at your studio.

Daisy settled on one of the armchairs, shaking the excess rainwater that clung on its feathers, letting out an indignant caw before preening itself.

“I know. It is quite sudden,” you chuckled softly, locking the last window with your ears flicking away little beads of rainwater that clung on your fur.

Daisy seemed to also agree and it let you remove the damp good luck ribbon you have made for it. It is a little worse for wear now so maybe it is time to make a new one. 

Perhaps something more stylish? The image of your crow friend wearing a scarf made you smile. Very fitting because it is becoming colder but for now, another good luck ribbon with the color it prefers should do.

“It’s alright. I won’t throw it away,” you assured it when it hopped along with you, worried where you would put its cherished item.

Will you repair it? Mephisto thinks you can. 

If its master can repair its circuits easily then it thinks you can do the same. You seemed very capable of fixing everything after seeing you stitch together large tears on the twins’ jacket before so it also means piecing back its worn ribbon should be easy to you.

For Mephisto, it doesn’t matter if its good luck charm is slightly damaged (What do you mean it's hanging by a thread?) All the affections you have poured into that ribbon will always be there no matter how it looks and it feels rather naked now that you have removed it.

Your finger grazed against the old wood of the cabinet while you hum absentmindedly, counting the number of the rows of shelves that store everything you need to sew any of your clients’ requests.

‘Oh, dear stranger journeying to a far off land, how many days must pass till I see you again?’

Third column from the left of the cabinet. Above where you keep the little boxes of buttons of various colors, all neatly organized, and then you finally pull out the drawer to retrieve a box inside of it.

Your crow flapped up to your sewing table, watching you set the item and it hopped in excitement.

Mephisto knows this particular box. This is a box where you store all of its trinkets it gave to you (Fine, and its master’s too.)

It was one of the few belongings you brought along before you left the place you once called home with your father. 

A little gift to you when you were young by an old hybrid couple after you knitted them scarves. You never quite remember their faces anymore but even then, the memory of their gratitude lingered, the playful pinch on your cheeks when you handed them their scarves wrapped in brown paper and twine.

“Do you want me to play it?”, you asked Daisy, opening the box to reveal the various precious ores and gemstones resting together with the dried flowers your crow has brought for you.

All of it, hidden in one place, little memories preserved and forever cherished.

Mephisto let out a beep, a yes, its optics adjusting to take a recording once again of this little moment that it may or may not hold over its master’s head (Again) upon its return to the base when the rain subsides.

You nodded in approval, tying around Daisy’s old ribbon around one of the horns of the little black dragon figurine sitting inside the box then turned the key.

A soft melody began playing and both you and Daisy watched the black dragon spin among the field of red blossoms painted in the background as if it was chasing the white ribbon on its horn, a lonesome game but still fun while the two of you looked back at your reflections on the small mirror.

Mephisto pushed the top of its head under your chin, nuzzling you and you laughed softly, petting its back while you listened to the gentle lullaby.

“Quite a downpour, don’t you think?”

Your heart skipped a bit, the lullaby cut short as you immediately closed the box, pushing it near the pile of fabrics beside you. 

These impromptu guests of yours always catch you off guard. Perhaps it comes with their innate trait of being able to make their presence hidden until they choose to reveal themselves.

Or so you thought.

The door shut with a soft click, your surprise visitor making his way towards you and your eyes widened. His footsteps were quiet, almost like Skye’s and twins’ but how is it possible? How is it possible when you and the person standing across your table are certainly alike, are of-

-the same species.

You nodded slowly, and Daisy hopped between you and your visitor, silently assessing this newcomer, one of the many who had made themselves comfortable in your studio.

“Louis,” the deer hybrid said, raising his hand for you to shake which you returned, telling him your name in return but not like you need to tell him, he already knows about you anyways. Everyone who has transactions with Sylus is fully aware of who you are.

The seamstress who dresses all the wolves of this den in sheep’s clothing.

The deer fiercely guarded by the dragon kept in this hidden corner of the N109 zone.

The object of Sylus’ affections.

Or, from people who harbors deep hatred to Sylus-

Sylus’ well-seasoned meal.

“What brings you here, Mister Louis?”, you asked politely, your hands on your lap. You haven’t seen this deer before. 

Is he a new resident here in the N109 zone? 

He is well-dressed, clearly wealthy, and the cut of his clothes fit him well. 

His eyes lingered on Mephisto and he knew that this was the  little heathen made by Sylus to carry out his commands. One of his three errand runners  as people said who goes about doing his dirty work on his behalf. 

That dragon really does keep a close eye over you, doesn’t he?

It was almost concerning. A predator hybrid and prey hybrid spending too much time with each other spells trouble. Is Sylus fattening you up? A meal reserved for a special occasion?

“I heard you are Sylus’ personal tailor,” he said, walking around your studio, studying the clothes on display.

“Yes, but more like his lead tailor,” you corrected him, your eyes watching him closely. It has been so long since you have met your own kind. Is it comforting? Maybe, “He still has other tailors as well.”

“Did he come here often?”

“Oh, never.”

“Never?”

“Yes, he has yet to pay us a visit.”

His eyes narrow slightly at you. The word in the streets is that you and Sylus are seen together more often and people have claimed that he is very forward on his affections to you, how his tail wrapped around your waist, and even how he gazed at you as if when you tell him to jump, he will ask how high you want.

“He only sends his people here,” you continued but you caught the subtle hint of confusion in his gaze and then you added, “Good people.”

Good people?

A brief look of surprise crossed your visitor’s face. Did he hear that right?

You think those wolf cubs, that crow between you, and Sylus of all people are good ? 

Maybe it is true that every hybrids like you and him indeed lost their instincts when they stepped here in the N109 zone which is why your lot has to look after each other just in case, just in case that the beasts who reside here decide to remove their masks and hurt you just like how the humans did outside. 

Because you prey hybrids are just so damn pitiful.

“It didn’t cross your mind that they would hurt you?”

“Everyone who entered this room didn’t.”

“There will always be the first.”

“I trust them more over the humans,” you replied. His concern is valid, of course, and Mister Louis here isn’t the first prey hybrid who expressed his worry over you being friendly with any of your visitors.

Your father is a different case, though, who is specifically worried about Skye.

Skye, of all people.

Skye who never crossed the line when he was here. Skye who doesn’t have to stay but chose to. Skye who helps you if he doesn’t have to.

But you know their concern stems from reality. 

Humans. 

Predator hybrids. 

Prey hybrids. 

That’s how the hierarchy goes. That’s how it has always been. Your kind stood in a delicate balance, docile enough in the eyes of the humans that you are taken advantage of often and weaker than the weakest predator hybrid as long as they have fangs to nip and claws to scratch.

“We’re deers by the end of the day.”

“I know but even then, it doesn’t make much difference.”

If anything, predator or prey, you are all just animals in the eyes of humans.

Tainted blood.

“I appreciate your concern, Mister Louis,” you added politely, giving him a small smile. “But it wouldn’t be fair for us to judge them easily when they haven’t harmed any of us here so far.”

Louis studied you closely. You genuinely do believe that all of you hybrids are equal.

How naive. How idealistic.

It will take centuries or more for prey and predator hybrids to get along and another more for hybrids and humans.

But then again, your father did mention to him you would rather run towards the nearest predator hybrid when in danger than seek help from a human.

“You’re an odd deer, Miss,” he chuckled softly.

He pushed a small package towards you wrapped in old newspaper.

“But just so you know, I heard dragons play with their prey before they eat them alive.”

────────────────────

Sylus adores the subtle signs of affection every time he is visiting you.

The faint blush on your cheeks when he stepped in to observe what you were doing. How you automatically shift closer when his tail is wrapped around your waist or when you listen to his words, your ears flicking while you pay attention.

His species in particular are naturally warm yet he only grew to understand the value of another person’s warmth every time he is with you and if he only can pull you closer, it is an irrevocable fact that you will be the warmest treasure he ever had held in his hands.

Not because of the blood pumping on your veins.

But because of the peaceful grace you have with you.

The deer doesn’t need to step out of her meadow if anything. He had already stepped foot on your paradise under the sunlight that passed the trees and if he can, he doesn’t want to leave the only place that treated him with sincere kindness.

Today, Sylus has been eagerly looking forward to his visit despite the sudden downpour. 

As if a little rain would stop him from seeing his favorite deer and as usual, he is not one to be in your shop without gifts for you.

He gave your father an easy smile and the older deer simply nodded in return, a polite greeting, when the dragon hybrid passed by him.

Thirty steps from the entrance of your shop to the hallway and another set of ten from the hallway to your studio. Oh, Sylus can’t wait to see his hardworking darling and he was halfway to your studio when he stopped, his ears picking up your sweet voice from behind the closed door and well, well, what’s this?

His eyes narrowed, picking up the scent of another guest. Another deer hybrid just like you and-

-A male one.

Your voices were muffled by the walls of your studio but he would always recognize the always gentle and polite tone you used when talking to anyone.

Then, the door opened and Sylus immediately piece together the identity of the newcomer you were just talking to earlier.

He isn’t one to forget the name to the face, afterall.

A young upstart in the N109 zone trying to make a name and recently, the little birds had told him that this one is creating a small association for all prey hybrids living here, not that Sylus minds.

He caught the familiar scent of fear from the male deer hybrid but this one was able to put all of his apprehension under a nonchalant expression laced with subtle defiance.

This gaze is all too familiar to him at this point.

This visitor of yours does not like him.

“I was told you had never set foot in this shop,” the deer hybrid started, not looking away from Sylus.

Brave, perhaps there is a reason why this one managed to reel the leashes of all the predators following his orders but he has a thought that this particular hybrid will be a little nuisance.

“And what exactly have you been told?”, Sylus asked casually, studying the newcomer. A good looking one but he is aware your father wouldn’t set you up with anyone, not when the older deer had gotten the message loud and clear that he is pursuing you.

“The miss said you only send good people in this shop,” the deer hybrid answered, as if piecing together your words and Sylus’ presence, “That Sylus himself never set foot here. Not even once.”

“Is this miss lying, Sylus?” the deer hybrid continued, letting go of the door handle, “Or are you deceiving the poor girl?”

“You’re quite a detective, aren’t you?”

“I took it as my responsibility to look after people here who get too cozy with predators like you.”

“Are you implying I am going to snap and attack her one day?”

“There are too many cases of your kind that did,” the deer hybrid countered. 

These answers, these excuses. 

The same lines recited by predators who thought they could reel in their natural instincts and not harm the prey hybrids they claimed they love and adore.

“Oh really? I suppose you have a solution for that? Locking my sweetheart away just to make sure she is safe from the big bad dragon,” Sylus replied, taking a few steps forward but the deer hybrid did not seem to falter.

Sweetheart.

So the words are true. Sylus is indeed courting you in his own twisted way.

“No, my solution is not drastic,” the male retorted, walking towards him until they were shoulder to shoulder. “You still seemed a reasonable man so just a word of advice-”

“-Pursue your own kind and leave her alone.”

The newcomer walked away but Sylus can’t shake the audacity of this upstart. 

Why? 

Why do people think that he can’t love you or be loved by you just because of your differences?

If you removed your antlers and he cut his horns, both of you would have been humans and no one would bat an eye.

Sylus took a deep breath, the faint scent of rain still clung to his hair and clothes, calming him down slightly and even when the smell of your previous visitor hung about, he could still shift through all the mixed scents and pick up the aroma of cotton and wildflowers.

The scent of you.

It was more than enough to soothe him and then, he opened the door to your studio, ready to see you.

The tension that lingered on his interaction with your previous visitor breaks, in this room, in the garden of fabrics and threads where there is only the two of you, the world is a distant away. 

The ocean of chaos in his heart slowly subsides.

In this little piece of paradise, a small voice emerges. Yours .

The dearest thing he wants to hear for his remaining days.

“Skye, quite a rain we are having, don’t you think?”

If all the precious metals and minerals he had ever owned merged together, its value will not be able to measure up on the fondest smile you wear when you see him. 

Warm like the first rays of the sun after a long winter.

“Well, it certainly did not stop me, didn’t it?” he remarked, all the words the deer hybrid said to him fading in the background and your voice is the only sound he can hear.

He watched you move around your desk, coming close to him to examine him and he chuckled softly when you had to stand by your tiptoes to do so.

“Are you wet? Do you want me to get a towel for you?”, you fretted about.

“You’re so considerate,” he replied, his hands reaching out and settling on your waist to steady you, “But I’m fine, little doe.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have really come over. You might get sick,” you pointed out, looking up to him.

You’d be surprised how far his constitution goes as a dragon but then again, he does love being doted by you.

“I’ll be fine, sweetie.”

“You could always turn down Mr. Sylus. His gifts can always wait.”

“But bringing his gifts to you is the only task I do enjoy.”

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else, Skye?”, you asked while he brushes the threads hanging on your antlers. 

There are so many things he wants to ask from you. Those kisses you give freely to the twins and Mephisto, to hold you close and take in your comforting scent, and for you to finally call him by his real name but his requests, his pleas overflow, the words lost in his tongue and only then what matters is you, you, you.

Just you.

“Just keep doing your own thing, hm?”, Sylus replied, tapping your nose playfully.

“How about you help me and Daisy then?”, you asked, and you were so quick on pulling a chair for him, setting it beside where you usually sit on your sewing table, “If you don’t mind being my second assistant for today?”

His eyes fleeted on Mephisto which is busy shifting through the pile of fabrics you have laid out on the table. His mechanical crow really does enjoy spending time with you from the looks of it and he caught the absence of that familiar white ribbon you tried around its neck. 

Had his companion managed to lose its valuable treasure already? That seemed unlikely. He had seen Mephisto snap at another crow once who tried to pull it off its neck.

“Just tell me what to do, darling deer.”

“Daisy and I are making another good luck ribbon,” you said, sitting on your chair and you patted on the chair beside you, an indication for him to do the same which he gladly did. 

Oh, is that how that little item is called? No wonder Mephisto is very attached to it.

“A good luck ribbon?”

“Yes, to keep Daisy safe.”

“Well, isn’t Daisy a lucky bird to have you, miss seamstress.”

“I’ll make one for you as well, Skye”, you smiled, and the idea of having Mr. Sylus’ bodyguard wearing a ribbon in one of his horns sounds quite appealing to you. He would very much resemble the dragon figurine inside the music box you have beside you and he will be more approachable, you are sure.

“Are you saying I need good luck, sweetheart?”, he replied but he was already shifting through the fabrics laid out in front of him together with Mephisto and he already had a color in mind.

Afterall, he had always loved the color of your eyes. Warm, welcoming, and eager. He certainly wouldn’t mind a ribbon of that hue tied around one of his horns.

Your ears drooped slightly on his response, “You don’t want one?”

Oh, he doesn’t need luck. 

Not when he already has you near him but how could he resist that cute pout on your face? This little tactic of yours, even if you are not aware of it, always works so well that he always finds himself abiding to whatever you would say.

“Don’t give me that look, Miss Deer,” he gently chided you and tapped your nose, “Of course I want one.”

Your tail wagged just slightly upon hearing his reply. It always gives you a sense of purpose when people say they like to receive gifts from you and since you are now making him one, maybe you should sew one for Mr. Sylus as well, a little token of gratitude for all the gifts.

“Do you think Mr. Sylus would want one as well?”

“I am sure he will appreciate it.”

“What color do you think he would want?”

“Red,” Sylus replied, an idea already forming in his head after you are done with this project while he fiddled at the edge of the fabric that shares the color of your eyes, “Definitely red, sweetie.”

Daisy hopped near you, dragging its chosen fabric by its beak and Sylus shifted closer to you, your shoulders touching and ready to take any instructions you would give him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the sewing part.”

“Just say the word, miss seamstress.”

Certainly not a bad way to spend a rainy afternoon with you.

────────────────────

Sylus had always detested the horns sitting on top of his head.

Monster.

Among the thousand curses and more he has been called, the word had always carried a certain weight every time humans and hybrids alike had laid eyes upon him. 

His kind is a rarity these days, a dying breed after being hunted and culled like livestocks when the humans had deemed they are a threat.

How many times had he sawed them off? He only lost that habit when he realized that they always grow back, more pointed than ever and-

-If he can’t convince his hunters he meant no harm, then it is time to prove their fears right.

The blood drips from the blade, into his face, and then into the white tiles of the bathroom. In this world overflowing with laughter mocking him from being the last of his kind, he had decided to level the playing field and carve a utopia for himself that slowly grew, a twisted safe haven initially meant for fiends such as him.

Then, on this land of despair, a small patch of paradise had taken root. Clearly impossible but certainly, without a doubt, a miracle.

Sylus then realized having horns isn’t too bad. A grotesque reflection of your elegant antlers, a bad imitation, but one of the similarities you both share.

“I am glad you love it, Daisy,” you clapped your hands, watching your odd little bird hopped about and turn for you and Skye, showing off the little ribbon you have sewn together.

His mechanical crow is more than pleased and Sylus is already sure it is about to show it off to the twins for receiving a new gift from you. 

It has become a little competition between those three and they don’t need to know that their boss is more than aware their contest involves who gets the most kisses and pats from you.

And here he is, sitting at the bottom of the list with the lowest score even if he isn’t technically part of that game.

“Do you want me to put on yours as well, Skye?”, you asked him.

“Just try not to tie it too tight, darling deer,” he said and he bent his head slightly, enough for you to reach his horn.

There was a shiver that ran on his spine when your fingers grazed his horn while you carefully fastened the ribbon around it and he let out a small whimper. 

It was a gesture of trust but you wouldn’t know that, not when it was common for you deer hybrids to touch each other’s antlers.

But it was more than a gesture of trust.

Afterall, Sylus is more than aware that his kind only allows closed family to touch their horns and-

-Their mate.

He almost sounded pathetic in his own ears and for once, he is afraid to see the look of pity on your eyes. Here is your liar, Miss Deer, he wants to tell you but he wouldn’t deny there is a hint of fear that eventually you will realize ‘Skye’ and ‘Mr. Sylus’ are one and the same. 

Would your fond gaze turn to fear by then?

“Oh, did I put it on too tight?”, you asked when your ears picked up the sound he made.

It was not pity that he saw but a flicker of concern if you have hurt him and oh, his sweetheart, always so caring. What did he do to deserve your kindness?

Too tight? Hardly. Your touch was so gentle, so unfamiliar yet he yearned for more.

“No sweetheart, you haven’t,” he replied and then you let out a small laugh when he pinched your cheek.

“I am glad,” you nodded and you studied the bow closely placed at the base of his horn. You should put more ribbons on him because it certainly made him look less threatening. 

Maybe then, your clients wouldn’t have a heart attack if you and him had to go again to do a delivery run soon. 

“It really looks good on you, Skye. People would believe you are a nice and friendly dragon now.”

“Perhaps I should wear ribbons more often then,” he joked but your ears seemed to perk up at his comment, and he caught the anticipation in your eyes at the prospect of making him more bows.

You nodded, and he froze slightly when you rub your antlers against his horn where the ribbon is tied in approval, “That sounds great. I can’t wait to see you in them.”

How many years has it that Sylus had long for such affection? To be treated gently and not as a lesser animal? Now, all of those wishes, his yearning for love that he thought he will never have, were slowly fulfilled unknowingly by you and he closed his eyes, rubbing his horns back to you.

“And I can’t wait to try out more ribbons for you, sweetie.”

“I hope Mr. Sylus will like what I made as much as you do, Skye.”

He may have stayed longer than usual today, especially when you ask him to only leave when the rain stopped. The sound of the downpour, the soft conversation between the two of you, and the sewing machine humming filled the room and even when evening fell, he watched you still push through, making your patterns, until you accidentally dozed off mid-conversation.

Little deer always forgets she is in the company of a beast.

He gently tucked your hair behind your ear, his hand lightly grazing the fur from the base until the tip, fleeting, not enough for you to even stir and the red gemstone that adorn your hairpin twinkled for a moment, like a wink.

Sylus left Mephisto with you, who almost looked like a plushie with you curled up against his companion and he set the gift he had brought for you near your hand holding the pencil.

Perhaps this is the start of another small game. A back and forth. A gift from him in exchange for a little trinket from you this time but Sylus will have to see.

He tied the red ribbon you said to give to ‘Mr. Sylus’ upon his return around the leather strap of his watch before he left your studio.

A small smile formed in Sylus’ lips when he took one glimpse of you before leaving.

If you opened your eyes, you will see that your Mr. Sylus is already more than pleased.

────────────────────

It was such a relief to see the boss returned to the base all too pleased with himself.

Luke and Kieran never found out what actually ticked him off last time he had visited you and their little investigation never arrived on a conclusion because you just looked at them confused when they tried to ask you if you and the boss had a little misunderstanding.

“Do you think he got upset because I asked for a piece of his lemon tart?”

They decided not to press on further, not wanting to upset you (Also because you offered to share the box of macarons they stole given to them begrudgingly by that cute, feisty sheep hybrid.)

They welcomed him in the base as routine but mostly because they are excited to see their father boss once again and he is usually more forgiving with their little antics every time he sees you, their tails wagging in excitement.

(Not that they blew up something again. They have been good while he is away for once. This whole sewing hobby is really taking up their free time.)

Yet, when Sylus went past the double doors of the base, they caught a scent quite strong that clung on him.

The scent of cotton and wildflowers.

Luke and Kieran looked at each other, a flicker of understanding. Is that why the boss is happier today?

“Boss, why do you smell like Miss Deer-”, Luke was about to ask but let out a yelp when Kieran stepped on his toes yet even then, the question had already made its way into his ears.

“What are you two on about?”, he asked, a small smirk tugging on his lips. He knows these two wolf cubs had a superior sense of smell, an already inherent trait for wolf hybrids amplified by whatever the humans did to them before arriving here in the N109 zone.

That little gesture of yours where you rubbed your antlers against his horns is supposed to be an affectionate one, fairly common among deer hybrids who are known for being very friendly to those they like.

He is still wearing the little ribbons you made for him which he had not removed until now but he is more than aware you have unknowingly left your scent on him.

Not that he minds, anyways, especially when he had also left his on yours as well.

He had to give these two points for asking him bluntly unlike your father who had given him an odd look when he exited your shop but he is sure you will be able to clear everything up. 

You are not one for lying after all.

But these wolf cubs have no sense of subtlety. So nosy.

“Did you and Miss Deer had-”, Luke let out another yelp when Kieran stepped on his toes again, “Can you stop that, Kieran?”

“I am not giving you allowance for you both to sniff on my clothes,” Sylus said dryly.

The two looked at each other, their tails wagging harder. They wouldn’t dare do that knowing full enough the boss retaliates during their sparring sessions and it wasn’t their fault when their noses can smell up to miles.

“Come on, boss,” Kieran said, the two walking with him deeper into the base, “We aren’t animals.”

“Actually, it is pretty much stronger around your horns,” Luke piped and his eyes widened slightly, noticing the ribbon fastened on the base of his horn and another one in his watch.

The twins looked at each other, their eyes studying the neck scarves you have gifted them.

The boss had finally received a gift from you just like they did.

“You both are acting like animals.”

But the little scratch he gave them on the back of their pointed ears betrayed his words.

.

.

.

Little gremlins.

────────────────────

Author's Note: Yes, I borrowed Louis from Beastars. He is absolutely necessary in the world building of this story even if he will appear here just ONCE. What did Louis left at Miss Deer's table? What is Sylus' gift? These will all be revealed in due time.

Will there be a side story with the twins? Maybe, maybe. We will see how the stars will align in the coming months.

Anyways, this is so fun to write. I try to write in between my free time and sometimes I just woke up at 2am because the ideas JUST HAD TO COME AT THAT TIME.

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

[gotta-winwin]

back to friends | k.mg

⭐ starring: kim mingyu 💌 genre: angst | wc: 2k 💬 preview: Mingyu has spent enough time loving you to know you were never going to love him back.

cw/tw: friends to strangers, sad!mingyu, wrong person wrong time, unrequited love

🪽 fic rating: pg  ☁️ masterlist & a/n: this fic took way too much inspo from my own four year long situationship. rip. thank you to @lovetaroandtaemin (ally) and @gyubakeries (tiya) for betaing!

now playing: back to friends by sombr, toxic to the end by rose 

this is a special from the svt x what could’ve been event -> click here to read svt x what was and svt x what is :) 

Mingyu remembers everything too clearly. 

The last time Mingyu saw you was sometime in December. 

He could remember it so very clearly because you had taken one look at him, and he could just tell– it was all finally over. 

If he didn’t have the years of memories to prove otherwise, Mingyu would have thought you had never loved him. 

You looked at him, eyes tracing his figure, from his tousled hair to the beat up shoes on his feet. They lingered somewhere near his hoodie strings and promptly flicked away. You didn’t smile;, your lips didn’t twitch in surprise. He was just another stranger wearing the clothes and shadow of a past lover. 

Lover. He laughed then, his breath hitting the cold air and turning into smoke. He couldn’t even classify you as a lover. The two of you had always been just friends. 

Yet to Mingyu, it had always been much more than that. He had stumbled somewhere in between the thin line of love and companionship while you had always walked along it so easily. Lover. The potential of it all stung more than the loss. 

“I love you.” 

He could hear it in your exact tone even now. You always said it so fucking easily. Like the words held no meaning. Like it didn’t invoke in his mind the image of you in a wedding dress each time Mingyu heard it come from your lips. 

letter entry : 

my dearest allie, i know you’ll get that reference, and i guess it seems cruel to do it now, but it felt fitting nevertheless. we did watch that movie together in grade eight.  i miss you. the city feels small and cold without you beside me. without you blowing up my phone. it sits silently and the silence suffocates me.  i had no one to finish my drink the other day. i panicked because i knew i was the designated driver that night, then finished the drink anyways because i remembered you were no longer in my life. there’s no one i need to stay sober for now. so i drank without limit for the first time since it was legal for us to drink. i know you’d laugh to know i threw up that night.  i don’t even know why i’m writing. you’ll never read this. i don’t have the guts to send this out.  and i guess the funniest thing is that i don’t even want you back in my life– it’d be far too complicated, and i don’t even love you like that anymore. 

i think. i think. 

mingyu. 

He saw you first walking down the street towards him. Ducking into the nearby grocery store quickly, he watched as you made your way past him and around the corner out of sight, sighing when he could no longer see you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you. It was the fear of what would happen if he did, if your eyes met for the first time after four years and no words could come out of his usually busy mouth. 

“Gyu.” He imagined it’d go something like this. You’d say his name, and the sound would be both nostalgic and brand new.

“Y/N,” He’d say in return. He’d watch you frown at your full name coming from his lips, because you both knew he did not tend to call you that. He’d trade in the pretty girls and princesses for your real name, and the gap that made between the two of you would be painfully visible. “You’re back in town?” The statement would come out more like a question. 

You would nod stiffly. “Just got back last night.” He would know it was a lie from the tone of your voice. 

“Why didn’t you call?” He’d ask.

And you would shrug. “Would you have picked up?”

That would make him pause a bit, his head tilting a bit to the side as it always did when he thought. “Yeah. I would’ve.”

And the answer would catch you off guard. “Really?” You wouldn’t have expected him to answer, not after everything you had ever put him through. But Mingyu was nothing but resilient. 

“Never break communication.” He would say, echoing himself from five years ago. “That’s what we promised, right?”

You would know he didn’t mean for it to come out like a jab at you, but you would take it like that anyways. Because that was how the two of you worked. Him, forever innocent of all the crimes you’d charge him, and you, forever overreacting. You wouldn’t say anything, and he would still know everything you were thinking.

“The phone is a two way street, I know.” He would say to fill the silence, and he would wonder why you hadn’t already walked away. 

“I should go.” You would utter forcibly, as if it had taken everything in your chest to push the sentence out. It would cut off whatever he had been about to tell you. He would nod, already used to the fact that you were always the one leaving. 

“Call me.” He would say, a last ditch effort at reconnecting. “Don’t let my number waste away in your phone.” 

You would nod. Then you'd part ways, leaving the front of the grocery store to walk on different ends of the street. You would head north. He would head south. But he knew it wouldn’t be like that at all. You would’ve never said his name. You would’ve walked right past him without voicing a single sound. Mingyu also knew he would probably do the exact same. For some strange reason, the two of you had wordlessly decided years ago that one person no longer existed in the same world as the other. It was incredibly silly to him, that two people who knew everything about each other were now stuck playing strangers, yet he did nothing to stop it. It was easier this way anyways. 

So Mingyu would give you one glance and pretend that years worth of memories did not crash against his mind like waves just from looking at your face. He’d walk away and continue acting. 

Mingyu would see you in his bed even now. The mattress on the left side still held indents of you, and the way you liked to sleep on your side more than your back. The sales lady who sold him the mattress had told him it was memory foam. How it’d hold the shape of its user and never forget it. 

So Mingyu slept on the right side with the faint reminder of you on the left. 

His phone rang, and he knew it was Wonwoo before he even picked it up. There was a university reunion tonight, and Mingyu knew everyone would be showing up for the sake of nostalgia. He knew you’d be there too. 

“You showing up tonight?” Wonwoo’s voice was full of hesitancy. He knew. They all did. 

“I don’t know yet.” Mingyu couldn’t tell which would be worse. Seeing you in the campus the two of you had first called home together, or not seeing you at all. 

“She probably won’t even show up tonight.” Wonwoo paused. “She won’t remember you even if she did.” 

It was a cruel thing to say, but Mingyu knew he was right. Blame it on your terrible memory or whatever, but you had always seemed to forget things easier than he ever could. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Mingyu mumbles to the phone. “I’m not going.” 

He lays there for a second and gets up anyway. The thought of maybe getting to speak to you again haunts him. The maybes always do. 

So Mingyu puts on the shirt he knows you like on him, and he sprays on the perfume you bought him in freshman year. He’s still a walking reminder of the life the two of you had once shared, whether he likes it or not. 

He sees you. The world goes dark. 

“Mingyu!” 

And you remember him. 

“Oh my god, Mingyu, it’s been far too long.” You smile up at him. You lead him to the rest of your friends by his bicep. “Come say hi to the others.” 

He follows you wordlessly. Mingyu feels as if he’s dreaming. 

dearest allie, 

He’s already drafting his next secret letter in the back of his head. 

Dearest allie, 

I love you. I miss you. Our story ended far too soon. Why did you leave? Whatever. You’re back now. Please stay. Don’t get on another plane. Let’s try. Try this– us. Please–

“Mingyu?” 

He blinks and realizes you had asked him a question. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” 

You laugh. “I asked if you were alright.”

He flashes you his signature grin. “Of course, pretty girl. I’m just fine.” 

The night flashes by with you in his arms. You dance. You kiss his cheek like you used to do. And for a couple hours, it’s like you never left. 

“You should’ve seen New York.” You’re busy telling him about your new city. Your new home.

He’s both amazed and a little bitter at how much you’ve grown. Changed. No longer the timid little girl who hid behind him at the sight of strangers. 

“I wish you had been there to see it.” 

He nods. “Me too.” 

“So,” You shuffle in your seat, legs stretched lazily over his. “What’s new with you?”

The real answer is nothing. But he lies and shrugs. “I don’t even know where to begin. You’ve been gone for years.” 

You smile. “I heard from Joshua that you opened your own physio place. That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah.” He nods dumbly, too preoccupied looking at the way your hair caught the glow of the rising moon. 

“I’ve missed this.” You gesture at him. “The two of us. Together.” 

“Me too.” He’s too nice to say what he’s really thinking. You can’t possibly miss this. You left. 

“You know,” there’s a shy smile on your face, and all of a sudden, Mingyu sees the you he had fallen in love with years ago. “I used to have a crush on you.” 

He chokes on air. “What? When?” 

“Freshman year.” You recall, laughing. “You lived with Wonwoo down the hall, and I thought you were the cutest thing ever.” 

“Why-” Mingyu can’t really believe what he’s hearing. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

You frown. “Well, you were fucking every girl on the block. And besides, we both know you only ever saw me as the little sister you had to protect at every party.”

He opens his mouth to tell you he’s always loved you too. That he still loves you. 

“Anyways, that’s all in the past now right?” You throw him a smile. “We’re better off as friends anyways.” 

Mingyu shuts up. 

“Can you hand me another drink?”

He does as you ask and wonders what kind of sick joke the universe is playing on him. He wonders what god is laughing down at his misfortune. 

Mingyu counts the days down to your flight back to New York. A part of him knew you’d never stay. 

“Don’t forget to call me, okay?” You hug him tight, your arms around his neck. “Don’t be a stranger.” 

He nods. “Of course.” 

He watches you disappear behind the boarding gate. He takes out his phone and deletes your number. 

dearest allie,  i supposed i should’ve known a long time ago that you’ve always thrived better far away from home.  i don’t know why i held on to you for this long, i really don’t. we’re not kids anymore. we’re not the same people we were at those midnight parties and dorm sleepovers. and nothing is going to take us back, no matter how much i wish it.  and i’ve come to the sickening realization that i’ve loved you longer than i’ve actually been next to you. 

you said you wanted to stay friends.  but i can’t, pretty girl. i just can’t. there’s just too much history there.  i won’t pretend to be your friend when i know i’ll never see you as just that.  and i hope keeping you at a distance will make me breathe easier.

so that one day, i’ll marry someone i love, and not think of you. 

with love, kmg.

[morgana-larkin]

Ok so I suddenly felt the need to write a fic about Melissa being a mom and gets with her daughter's best friend. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I'm busy for most of the day tmr so I will not have time to write the last Chessy request before the end of the year.

Part 2

Mommy Dearest

Warnings: sex references

Words: 5.25k

“So what are you going to do now that you’ve graduated college?” You ask your friend.

You and your friend Becca are hanging out in her mom’s backyard as you both just graduated from college. 

“Well I’ll have to find a job but it shouldn’t be too hard as they’re always looking for firefighters. My mom just loves that I’ll be one.” She says and you smile. “What about you? Have you applied to any teaching jobs or subbing?” She asks you.

“Yep a few.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

Just then you hear the front door open and close and her mom calling out her name. 

“We’re in the backyard mom!” Becca yells and her mom comes over.

“Hey honey, hey Y/n.” Melissa says to you both. “Just relaxing after graduating yesterday?” She asks and you both nod. “I’m so happy for both of you! A new firefighter and a new teacher!” She says with a smile and you blush a bit. 

You met Becca when you started college as you were roommates and you visited her mom’s place quite often as you were only half an hour away. Melissa and Becca are quite close after her father, Joe, left. The first time you met Melissa, you felt like you could faint right there with how attractive she is. You never knew you could be into middle aged women. You knew you were into women but never knew your type, until you started instantly crushing on your best friend’s mom 4 years ago. 

“Do you guys want to stay and watch a movie tonight?” Melissa asks. “I could run out and get some snacks.” Melissa suggests.

“Oh I have a date with Will tonight but Y/n do you want to stay?” Becca asks you and your brain stops working. Staying here alone with Melissa? It takes a few seconds for your brain to process it properly and then you realise that both Becca and Melissa are looking at you.

“Uh- um sure, ya I’m free tonight.” You stutter out and Becca gives you a weird look while Melissa smiles at you. 

“Great! I’ll go run to the store and get us some snacks!” Melissa exclaims and then leaves.

“Are you ok?” Becca asks you once her mom leaves.

“Ya, just never been with your mom alone before.” You tell her.

“You’ll be fine, she doesn’t bite. Unless of course you’re into that.” She says and you look at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Do you really think I don’t know about your crush on my mom?” She asks you and your jaw drops. You honestly thought you were subtle. “Just so you know, I don’t want to hear about you fucking my mom if that happens.” She tells you bluntly.

“Wait what? Your mom is…?” You start to ask.

“Into women? Yep, she’s bisexual.” Becca says. “I don’t think she realises that you have a crush on her.”

“Nothing will happen.” You tell her, even though you want something to happen.

“Well I’m just saying that I’ll be back here at about noon tomorrow.” Becca tells you and wiggles her eyebrows. You give her a playful shove and she gives one back to you and you both laugh.

Melissa returns about half an hour later with yours and her favourite snacks. 

“Honey, are you staying for dinner or is it a dinner date?” Melissa asks Becca.

“It’s a dinner date and I’ll be back at around noon tomorrow.” Becca tells her mom before giving her a kiss on the cheek and leaving.

“I guess it’s just me and you tonight hon.” Melissa tells you with a smile before going into the kitchen to make dinner. You watch her ass sway as she walk away and you realise something, you are fucked tonight. You go inside as she starts making dinner and you join her in the kitchen to keep her company and to be close to her.

“What are you making?”

“Well I thought about making your favourite, pasta alla norma. To celebrate your graduation.” She tells you as she moves around the kitchen with ease.

“Really? Oh I would love that.” You say with a bright smile. There’s two reasons it’s your favourite dish, one because it’s actually really good and two, because you get to hear her speak Italian.

“Good, by the way, do you like Italian?” She asks you and you look at her.

“Well I think the food is really good so yes.”

“I meant the language hon.” She tells you. “You blush every time I speak it.” She adds and your cheeks turn red. 

“Oh- I…um.” You try to speak but lost the ability at that moment. 

“No need to be embarrassed, hon. It’s a beautiful language and you’re cute when you blush.” She says as she looks right at you and you wonder how you didn’t faint right there.

“Um, ya the language is really nice, never got to learn it though.” You tell her.

“Ya they don’t really teach it in America. I learned from my Nonna and my Ma. Maybe I can teach you some basics, if you want.” She offers and you widen your eyes.

“Oh, I-I’d like that but I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” 

“If it was an inconvenience then I wouldn’t have offered.” She tells you while looking at you. She then sees your shy body position and remembers you’re stuttering while talking. “Do I make you nervous?” She asks you and you look at her.

“Why-why would you ask that?” You ask her.

“Because of your body language and the fact that you keep tripping over your words.” She says softly.

“Maybe a little nervous, I’ve never been alone with you before, Becca has always been here.” You say honestly and she smiles softly at you.

“We’ve known each other for 4 years hon, you don’t need to be nervous around me.” She tells you and you look down. “Tell you what, how about I finish making dinner and you can go pick what movie to watch?” She suggests with a smile and you look up at her and nod. “Ok, it’ll be done in about 10 minutes so how about you go look.” She tells you.

“Alright, was there a specific genre you are in the mood for?” You ask her and she shakes her head.

“We’re celebrating your graduation tonight, pick whatever you want.” She tells you and you nod before going to pick something.

Melissa comes out 10 minutes later with two plates of food and sees you have a movie ready to go. 

“What did you end up picking?” She asks as she hands you a plate.

“You’ll see. Becca and I love to watch this movie when we were feeling stressed.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“Alright, press play when you’re ready.” She says and you immediately press play and start eating. 

The movie starts playing and throughout it you keep glancing at Melissa who seems to be enjoying a teen queer movie.

“She uses a stuffed animal to get off? There’s so many other ways to do that.” She says out loud as you swallow and you start coughing. She pats and rubs your back until you stop and she looks at you with slight concern. “You ok?” She asks and you nod.

“Just went down the wrong way.” You tell her and she smiles. 

“Ok, just don’t die. I’d never hear the end of it from Becca if her best friend died while hanging out with me.” She jokes and you laugh.

10 minutes into the movie is when you finish eating and you put the plate on the coffee table.

“Did you want more or are you good?” She asks you.

“I’m good.” You tell her and she nods before paying attention to the movie.

Near the end of the movie you start feeling sleepy and without thinking you rest your head on her shoulder and fall asleep.

You wake up the next morning to some noises from the kitchen. You get up off the couch and make your way over. You see Melissa in the kitchen putting some snacks in a bowl and she looks up to see you.

“Hey hon, how was your nap?” She asks you. 

“Uh, good. I guess I was more tired than I thought.” You say as you rub your eyes.

“Well Becca told me both of you hardly got any sleep this week so it’s not surprising.” She tells you as you yawn. “If you’re still tired then you can go sleep in Becca’s room tonight.” She offers and you look around for the time. 

“What time is it?” You ask her before realising your phone is in your pocket.

“9:24.” She says after looking at the stove clock.

“I think I’ll take your offer as I don’t think I have the energy to drive back to campus.” You tell her and she smiles and nods.

“Where are you going to stay that school is done?” She asks as she hands you a bag of your favourite chips.

“I made enough money working that I can afford a small apartment.” You tell her and she nods.

“Well you’re always welcome here if you ever want some help with teaching or some Italian food.” She asks and you smile.

“Thank you.” You tell her as you take a few chips and shove them in your mouth. “I actually have a question for you.” You say and she looks at you and nods. “I was wondering if I can shadow you?” You ask her and she tilts her head. “I already did that with a couple other teachers but you’ve been teaching longer than they have.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Of course. But you’ll have to sign your name under some forms due to the cameras.” She says and you nod. “I get up at 6 in the morning and I get there around 7:15-7:30.” She tells you and you nod. “So you can stay here tomorrow night or meet me there in the morning.” She says and you think about it. 

“If Becca is alright sharing her bed one more time with me then I’ll stay over.” You tell her and she nods.

“I’m sure she won’t mind. You guys have been sharing that bed like once a month for 4 years.” She says with a chuckle and you smile. “At one point I thought you two were hooking up.”

“No, Becca is straight and she’s not my type.” You say and she looks at you.

“What is your type then?” She asks you and you blush.

“You.” You mutter as you look down and she looks at you.

“What did you say?” She asks.

“Older gingers.” You say as you look back up at her. 

“Well my daughter is definitely not your type then.” She says with a giggle. “Seeing as she’s a brunette and the same age as you.” She says and you nod. “Are there any older ginger women that have caught your eye?” She asks as she eats a couple chocolates.

“There’s one but I’m unsure if she likes me.” You tell her, leaving out the part that she’s right in front of you.

“Well maybe get to know her. Once she gets to know you then I’m sure she’ll like you.” She says with a smile and you blush slightly. “Well I’m gonna turn in for the night. It might be Saturday night but I don’t want to mess up my sleep schedule and be a zombie on Monday morning.” She tells you as she puts her snacks away. “You’re free to stay up and watch tv if you want.” She tells you as she leaves the kitchen.

“I’ll go to sleep too as I’m still quite tired.” You tell her and follow her upstairs. 

“Alright, do you need anything? I think you already have your own toiletries here.” She says and you nod.

“Yep, I’m good. I’ll just borrow some of Becca’s clothes.” You tell her and she nods before wishing you a good night and going into her bedroom.

“Good morning.” She tells you once you walk into the kitchen.

“Morning.” You tell her groggily.

“Just woke up?” She asks you and you nod.

“How are you so chipper at 8:30 in the morning?” You ask her and she laughs.

“I’ve already had a mug of coffee.” She says and you smile. “Do you drink coffee now?” She asks and you nod. “I knew you’d cave eventually.” She says as she pours you a cup. She hands you a cup along with the sugar and cream. “I’m making some toast and scrambled eggs for breakfast.” She tells you as you make your coffee to your liking. You nod and then give her the sugar and cream back once you’re done. You take a few sips as she finishes getting breakfast ready.

“I’ve wanted to ask, is Becca short for something?” You ask her and she shakes her head.

“Nope, although you’re not the first to ask me that.” She says. “I wanted to name her Aurora but her father wanted her to have an American name so like an idiot I settled on Becca. And now her father isn’t even around.” She says and you hum.

“Aurora is a beautiful name.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“Right? But apparently it was too Italian.” She says with a chuckle.

“It’s Italian?” You ask her and she nods.

“All the good names are.” She says with a wink. “Mine’s Italian.” She tells you as she finishes the eggs.

“What does Melissa mean?” You ask her and take a sip.

“Honey bee.” She simply says. “And my mom calls me honey, no doubt because of my name.”

“You call Becca honey.”

“I guess because my mom calls me that so I just took it.” She tells you as she puts the eggs on the plates and reaches for the toast.

“You know considering you’re a single mom, you did an amazing job at raising her.” You suddenly say and she looks at you.

“Well thank you hon, it means a lot.” She says with a smile. “And here’s your food.” She says and hands you the plate and you both head over to the dinner table. “So, got any plans today?” She asks you and you nod.

“Once Becca gets here then I’m gonna drive us to our dorm room and start packing up. We want to move out before the first so they don’t charge us for an extra month.” You tell her. “Plus I move into my new apartment on the first.” You add and she smiles.

“And where’s your new place?” She asks.

“About 5 minutes from here.” You tell her as you take a bite of toast and then tell her the address.

“Oh I know where that is.” She says and then you both continue eating.

You and Melissa hang out until Becca gets back and then you both head to your dorm room.

“So you were alone with my mom for 18 hours and nothing happened?” She says and you nod. You start packing a box as she does the same.

“Well I slept for 10 of those hours but yes nothing happened.” You tell her.

“Dude, you have got to get some game and confidence. Honestly I’d prefer it if it wasn’t my mom but you haven’t slept with anyone.” She tells you. “Oh my god if you two got married then you’d be my mother in law.” She says and you snort.

“Marriage? Bec she doesn’t even know I like her.” You say and she looks at you.

“Then tell her you coward.” She says and you look at her.

“Coward?” You say and gasp.

“Yes! You’ve liked her for 4 years already. If that hasn’t changed yet then you’re not gonna stop liking her.” She says and you sigh.

“By the way I’m sleeping with you in your bed tonight.” You tell her.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to shadow your mom tomorrow.” You say and she rolls her eyes.

“Of course you are.” She says and you snort.

“Believe it or not but I want to shadow her because she’s a good teacher and not because of my feelings.”

“Why not shadow my aunt Barb then?” She says and you sigh.

“Ok it’s also because of my feelings, but your mom is a good teacher.”

“I know she is.” Becca says and you tape up the box.

*A few hours later*

“I’ll help you figure something out, you’ll be fine.” Becca tells you as you get back to her house.

“Oh my god Y/n, what happened?” Melissa asks as you’re crying.

“She got a call from her landlord saying that her apartment flooded badly and they have to redo the entire place. They said it’s gonna take 3-4 months to do.” Becca tells her mom. “They gave her the money back and we already gave up our dorm room.” She adds on.

“I have nowhere to go.” You sob out and Melissa brings you in for a hug and lets you cry into her chest.

“Hon, you don’t have nowhere to go. You can stay here with us.” Melissa says softly and you sniffle and pull back.

“What?” You ask her, not sure if you heard her correctly.

“You can stay here with us until you find another place.” She says and gives you a smile.

“Would any of your guys know of a place within her budget?” Becca asks her mom.

“I can definitely ask around.” Melissa says then looks at you. “We have a carpeted basement, we can get you a futon to use for now and you can stay here.” She tells you and you sniffle again.

“Really?” You ask her and she nods.

“Of course.” Melissa says. “How about for now, I heat up the leftovers from last night, then I’ll make us all some hot chocolate and we can watch booksmart again or something else.” Melissa offers and you nod before sniffing again.

“You watched booksmart last night?” Becca asks and you nod. “Awesome, love that movie.” She says and then she perks her head up. “Oh we can watch the L word, maybe seeing some tits might cheer you up.” She says and you chuckle as she hands you some tissues.

“Definitely worth a try.” Melissa says and they both look at you.

“Ok.” You say and they smile before Melissa heads to the kitchen and Becca gets the first episode of the L word ready.

During the L word, Becca gets a text from her boyfriend and you glance at her phone and she catches you.

“No eavesdropping.” She says and shoves you away, causing you to bump into Melissa. 

“Hey.” You tell her casually and she giggles.

“Hey hon, got shoved by my daughter I see.” She says and you nod. “Feel any better?” She asks and you nod again.

“A lot better, thank you.” You tell her and she wraps an arm around you and gives you a kiss on your head. Becca sees the interaction and sneaks a picture and smiles. 

The next day you get up bright and early and your alarm also wakes Becca up who hits you with a pillow until you turn it off.

“Ok ok, it’s off.” You tell her and then she goes back to sleep while you get up. You head into the bathroom with a change of clothes you brought from the dorm and get ready. 

By the time you get downstairs, Melissa is finishing getting two mugs of coffee ready for you both and has breakfast ready.

“Eat up.” She says as she sees the time. “We’re leaving in 10 minutes.” She tells you and you nod.

You both head out after eating and she drives the both of you to Abbott. You sign in and sign the forms for the cameras before Melissa brings you to the break room.

“Y/n?” Barb says as soon as she sees you. “How lovely to see you again.” She says and you say hi back to her.

“Who’s this?” Janine asks and everyone looks at you.

“This is Y/n, she’s my daughter’s best friend.” Melissa says. “She’s gonna be shadowing me for the day so all of youse be nice.” She warns them and then brings you to the table she shares with Barb.

“How was graduation, dear?” Barb asks you and you smile.

“It was good, unfortunately my parents couldn’t get time off work to come and see me but Melissa was there and cheered for me, very loudly.” You say and Melissa shrugs.

“I also took lots of pictures.” Melissa says and shows them to Barb. The rest of the Abbott crew came over to look at the pictures too.

“You and Becca look very happy.” Barb says and everyone else agrees.

“So Y/n, you’re a fellow teacher now?” Janine asks and you nod. “Maybe you can swing by my classroom and we could-”

“She ain’t shadowing you squidward.” Melissa cuts her off and Janine immediately stops. “Come with me Y/n and I’ll show you my classroom.” Melissa tells you with a smile and you both head to her classroom.

“Well she’s very protective of her.” Janine says and crosses her arms.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say Mel has a crush.” Jacob says and then all 3 of them look at Barb for confirmation. Barb just has a smile on her face and takes a sip of her coffee.

“Janine can be a bit much when you first meet her but she grows on you.” Melissa tells you as she bends forward to unlock her classroom with the key around her neck. You end up checking out her ass as she does that and then follow her in her classroom. You look at her classroom and you smile.

“This is my classroom.” She tells you.

“I like it, it feels very welcoming.” You tell her and she smiles.

“I try to make it that way.” She tells you and then she gives you a tour of the classroom until the students start arriving. 

You watch her greet all her students with a warm smile and some of them give her a high five or a hug. They all look at you as they walk in and they all take a seat as the bell rings. 

“Alright my little eagles.” She says and you laugh quietly at that from the back of the classroom. You know her love of the Philly eagles but never thought she would incorporate it in her work, although it also doesn’t surprise you. “As you probably noticed we have someone with us today and they all turn to look at you and you wave at them. “She’s just studying how I teach as she’s a teacher as well.” She tells them in a way they’ll understand. You get your notebook and pencil ready as she starts teaching and you start taking notes.

By lunchtime you have about 4 pages filled with notes about how she teaches and she brings you to the break room. The two of you start talking and eating and then you get a text from Becca.

“Is my daughter finally awake?” Melissa asks, knowing Becca likes to sleep in.

“She’s been awake for a couple hours actually.” You tell her and she laughs.

“I guess being on her own turned her into a morning person.” Melissa says. You laugh at that and then you look at the text.

Becca: 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩?

You giggle at her text before sending a quick no and then give your attention to Melissa.

“What did she tell you?” Melissa asks.

“Just an inside joke.” You tell her and she nods.

She then brings you to the couch and gets the yearly plan and her weekly plans for the class out and shows them to you. She goes over how she plans in detail and the rest of the Abbott crew just looks at Melissa and you together. You take notes about what she explains to you while also eating. You got quite good at doing homework while eating in college. You ask her questions once in a while and she answers all of them.

“Hey mom.” You hear and everyone turns to look and you see Becca there.

“What are you doing here, honey?” Melissa says and Becca slumps into the chair beside the couch.

“Will and I are having a disagreement and I usually rant to Y/n about how he’s wrong but she’s here.” Becca explains and Melissa gives you an amused look.

“I’ll get a coffee for both of us while you get the whole story.” Melissa tells you as she grabs your mug. She messes Becca’s hair up as she passes by and Becca gives her a look of disapproval.

“MOM!” She yells and Melissa just laughs. “I spent 10 minutes doing my hair.” She says.

“To impress who? You and Will aren’t talking right now.” Melissa counters and goes to the coffee machine.

“Your daughter is cute.” Janine says to Melissa.

“Ya she is.” Gregory agrees and Melissa gives him a glare. “I’m not going to hit on her, I’m with Janine and happy with her.” He defends himself with.

“Luckily she looks more like me than her good for nothing father.” She says and gets the coffees ready.

“I can’t believe we’ve known each other for 5 years and we’re just seeing your daughter now.” Jacob tells her.

“She’s been going to college for the past 4 years and was only visiting me like once a month.” Melissa tells them.

“Is that where she met Y/n?” Janine asks and Melissa nods.

“I was helping Becca bring stuff to her dorm and that’s where we first met her.” Melissa says as she watches you listen to Becca rant about Will.

“BECCA!” You yell and cover your ears. “I didn’t need to know those details.” You tell her and Melissa smiles.

“You’re such a prude.” Becca says and stands up.

“Just because I didn’t sleep with 20 people doesn’t make me a prude.” You say and Melissa coughs on her sip of coffee.

“Sorry, what was that?” Melissa asks and both you and Becca turn to her before Becca turns to look at you.

“You said you would never tell my mom.” Becca complains and you smirk.

“You give me details about your sex life and I spill secrets to your mom.” You tell her and Becca crosses her arms and huffs.

“Please tell me more things I don’t know ‘bout my daughter.” Melissa says as she walks to you both. You give Becca a look, daring her to say more about her sex life. Becca sighs before she gives up.

“Fine, I won’t say anything else, just don’t tell my mom anything else.” Becca tells you and you smile at your win.

“Well I for one would love to know what went on in college.” Melissa says as she comes to sit beside you.

“You don’t want to know.” You tell her and Becca nods her head.

“I guess as long as you’re not pregnant or had a child.” Melissa says and looks at Becca.

“You would know as Y/n and I came to see you once a month, mom.” Becca tells her.

“Tell that to all the pregnancy tests I’ve had to get you in the past 4 years.” You slip out and Melissa looks at you then Becca in shock.

“So all those safe sex talks just slipped out of your mind?” Melissa says and nobody sees Mr. Johnson eating popcorn in the corner.

“Well Y/n once made out with 10 girls in one night when she got plastered.” Becca says and you roll your eyes.

“She’s your mom Becca, not mine.” You say with a chuckle.

“You wish you could call her mommy.” Becca accidentally slips out and you widen your eyes. Everyone in the break room is dead silent and their jaws dropped and you all then hear crunching as Mr. Johnson is still eating popcorn. You then give Becca a death glare and she starts to back up. “Great to see you mom but I gotta go before Y/n kills me.” She says and runs out and you chase her.

Everyone turns to look at Melissa who’s still in shock. Does that mean you like her? 

That thought runs through her head and then Barb sees the time and tells everyone to leave to go get their class. Melissa gets to her classroom with her class and sees you leaning against the wall, pouting with your arms crossed.

“We can talk later.” She whispers to you and you sigh.

The day goes faster than you liked and before you know it, the kids are packing up and getting ready to go. Melissa drives you both back home and you both see that Becca isn’t here, either making up with Will, avoiding you or both.

“So want to tell me what Becca meant?” Melissa tells you and you look at her.

“Not really.” You tell her and she walks up to you.

“Will you anyway?” She asks of you and you sigh. You end up looking at your hands and stay quiet. “Y/n.” She says and grabs your chin and gets you to look at her. “Do you like me?” She asks and you look at her with fear in your eyes. You then nod slightly and Melissa smiles. You close your eyes before she smiles because you fear her reaction and then you suddenly feel her lips on yours. You open her eyes as soon as she pulls away and you look at her in shock. “I like you as well.” She says and your brain just logs off right there. “If you’re not going to say anything then you may as well just kiss me.” She tells you and you grab her head and kiss her. 

Melissa kisses you back roughly and gets you to walk backwards until you hit the wall. She puts one hand on the wall for balance and the other hand is on your waist to keep you close to her. You end up moaning into the kiss and Melissa trails down to your neck and starts sucking. You put your hands in her hair as you move your neck to the side to give her more access. 

“OH MY GOD!” You hear and Melissa pulls back and you both see Becca there with her jaw dropped and eyes wide open. Melissa keeps one hand on the wall and lets out a deep breath.

“Of course my daughter causes this but also interrupts.” Melissa says and you giggle.

“Ok the causing it was an accident as Y/n was spilling my secrets, interrupting it was a traumatising accident.” Becca says and Melissa laughs.

“Does knowing your mother have a sex life traumatising you?” Melissa asks her daughter.

“Not just that but you’re doing it with my best friend.” Becca complains and you smirk.

“Well your mommy is really hot.” You tease her and Becca immediately leaves and you both hear the car pull away quickly.

“I’m really hot huh?” Melissa says and you nod. “Well aren’t you sweet.” She says and kisses you.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta 

@imaginesmultifandoms 

@idonothingalldays-blog 

@sexysapphicshopowner 

@dvrkhcld 

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie 

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

@dashbag-art

Let me know if you want to be added!

[moosesarecute]

December 17th

December Masterlist

Masterlist

Her day had gone to exploring her home. She had been all over trying to find something that might restart her memory, but she couldn’t.

The toys she played with as a child, the kitchen she and her mother baked in and the library where she spent most of her time. None of them gave her any clues of her life before.

It gave Annette an uneasy feeling.

She felt alone and scared. The people who called themselves her family were nice enough, but she couldn’t trust them completely yet.

She and Cathrine, her mother, had been talking the entire day. She had been stroking Annette’s hair and told them about their life. She spoke about how Annette was adopted. That while it was usual for fae to struggle getting children, Cathrine and Bru just couldn’t live without a child.

When she was first born and sent to an orphanage, it didn’t take long before they found her and knew she was the one. Cathrine cried talking about it.

Her mother at least cared about her, Annette concluded with. Nothing to be worried about with her. The rest of her family had kept a bigger distance. Cathrine said it was to not overwhelm her.

When night arrived, Cathrine tucked Annette into bed. She told her to make sure she stayed worm and gave her some of her medicine. It tasted just as bad as before, but she got it down.

However, when Cathrine left, Annette didn’t feel like sleeping.

She quietly stood up from the bed and started to explore her room a little more. She looked at the books and toys and yarn, but she felt no connection to it. She found more of her stuff in boxes stored under her bed. She went through each and every one-off them, but didn’t find anything particularly interesting until the last box.

It had a backpack in it. It looked well made and sturdy. But it also looked like it had been used a lot. Maybe this was the backpack she used when she last was out on her adventures? She knew it was hers. She didn’t know why, but she just knew it.

She opened the backpack and found many bottles of red liquid and a pile of paper. She picked of the papers first. One piece of paper was folded around the others. She read it first:

Winterberry juice for memory loss. Drink as much as you can every day.

And some reading for the journey. Hope you find what you need in these letters.

Good luck,

Nick

Annette decided to drink the juice. It tasted amazing. Both sweet and tangy from the berry. She drank some of it and then picked up the rest of the pile of papers. She picked up the first one. It was covered in tearstains, but other than that it was beautiful. The handwriting was precise and carefully done. Annette started reading.

My dearest Y/N,

It’s been over three years. This is the third December without you, and it haven’t become easier.

Rhys and Cass are forcing me to go to therapy. My therapist, Jonathan, suggested I write you letters, so that’s what I’m doing.

You have missed so much, my light. Both Rhys and Cass have found their mates. Their names are Feyre and Nesta. They are sisters and used to be human, but that’s a story too long for letters. I promise I’ll explain all to you when if you come back to me. Feyre was the girl that saved all of Prythian from Amarantha. Rhys made her his High Lady and they even have a son, Nyx. And Nesta and some of her friends have become Valkyries. She and Cassian are always at each other’s throats, but they love each other. You would have loved them too, I’m sure of it.

Mor and Amren have also found their loves. Which means I’m constantly surrounded by couples.

I’m happy for them, I truly am, but I can’t help but feel like it’s a little unfair. Why do we have to be apart?

I miss you, my love. I honestly feel lost in this world without you. I’ve been counting days since you disappeared, and each day feels heavier on my heart.

The shadows also miss you. They have never been as poorly behaved as now. Some days I wake up from them screaming to get you back, other days they refuse to listen or talk to me.

All our memories together are what keeps me going, but I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last in this life without you. I need your soft smiles and warm embrace to get me through this. I know I won’t, but deep down I still have hope that I’ll be able to hold you once again. Hold you, and never let go.

I love you, Y/N. I have loved you all my life and I will keep loving you till the day my soul no longer exists.

x Your Shadow

The first thing Annette noticed was that she really wanted to know what happened to Y/N and who her shadow was. The second thing was that she felt sort of connected to the names. Rhys, Cassian, Mor and Amren felt like names she knew. Feyre and Nesta, she didn’t feel connected to, but from the way they were written about in the letters, she knew that they were kind.

Annette wasted no time picking up the next letter It was also covered in tearstains. It seemed like most of them were.

My dearest Y/N,

Jo asked me today to write about what our life would be like.

And even though I did like he asked, it only brought out painful emotions. I hate having to imagine this. I want it to be true. To be our real life.

I wanted us to buy a house. A house where we can make our own home. So that we can choose everything ourselves.

I wanted us to have a family. We never spoke about kids. Both of us knew that a war was coming and that we would need to go through a lifetime of terror before we could bring babes into this world.

I want us to fly together. Fly to work, fly to family dinner, fly as exercise, fly as fun. Flying have always been when I’ve felt the freest and I know you feel similar, but without you beside me, it feels wrong. So wrong. I have multiple times thrown up from flying without you.

I want us to be happy.

I want us to fight, and argue, and laugh, and cry, and smile. I want it all.

Please come back to me.

x Your Shadow

My dearest Y/N

I think therapy is helping a little.

I thought about you yesterday without crying. Do you remember our first dance? Not our first as a couple, but our first one ever?

Sneaking around in the woods behind Windhaven and dancing to the song from the shadows swirling around us. Our feet making the snow crunch beneath us.

If only the bond had snapped earlier or if I was just a little braver. I would have danced with you every moment I could. You deserve to be danced with you too. I’m glad we’re not longer in Windhaven. You deserved so much better than that camp.

You’re my princess. You should dance around in the ballgowns you make, but no, you always sold away the most beautiful ones.

I still dream about the blue gown you wore on your first Starfall as a couple. I wish I could see you in it again some time.

x Your Shadow

My dearest Y/N

I think the time has come. I’ve finally gone crazy. I felt you. I’m sure I did. But I couldn’t get to you. Please tell me where you are so that I can get you home. Please tell me.

Are you out there?

x Your Shadow

My dearest Y/N

Family dinner is hard without you. I always imagine you sitting besides me and it gets a little better.

Cassian spilled soup all over the floor yesterday. That’s nothing unusual, but it was all over a new carpet Feyre just bought. Feyre was about to become very angry when Nyx started laughing louder than ever before. Cassian is now Nyx’s favourite person.

I’m convinced that if Nyx knew you, you would outrank Cassian very quickly. I don’t know how much he knows about his auntie Y/N, but I know you would be the best aunt he could ever wish for. I’ll start telling him more about you when I can talk about you without crying.

x Your Shadow

My dearest Y/N

The shadows miss you too. They’ve been trying to braid my hair lately. It’s like they miss helping you with yours. I don’t think they understand that you’re gone forever. It’s like they’re in denial. It’s not that different from what I’m doing, but still, they shouldn’t have these complex feelings. I wish I would tell them that you’ll be back soon.

Sometimes the only thing they do is to scream in my head. I think they believe too that you’re out there, but I just can’t get my hopes up. Please give me or the shadows a sign and we’ll be there. I promise.

x Your Shadow

Annette was crying now. The letters were so full of grief she just wanted to hug this Shadow and tell him that everything would be alright.

She drank a little more of the winterberry juice. As she gulped it down, she felt her head grow lighter.

My dearest Y/N

It’s snowing. A lot. It’s like the sky is falling down in white. I can almost image you running around with your snow-zoomies. It’s like my entire body just expects you to sneak up behind me and dump way too much snow on me. The shadows have tried to do it, but it just isn’t the same.

Nyx spoke about the Winter Lights today. He told us that a friend from his kindergarten had painted them. I left the room before anyone continued speaking. I haven’t seen the lights since you left. It used to be such a good memory, but now it only brings pain. Our first kiss, my love. Under the Winter Lights after everyone else had gone inside. You always insisted to watch them until they had danced finished.

Maybe I’ll try to do that this year. I’ll do my best.

x Your Shadow

Imagine having your first kiss together under the Winter Lights. Annette’s heart melted at the thought. It felt right. She would love to experience that.

Annette picked up the last letter. It was filled with even more tearstains than the others. She drank the rest of the winterberry juice before she started to read.  

My dearest Y/N,

I have understood now that I must let you go.

Madja and Jonathan believe you might me out there, but I won’t survive if I get my hopes up now only for them to be crushed once more. I want to, but I just can’t. It’s too much.

My sweet, beautiful, amazing, wonderful, thoughtful mate. I love you so much and it hurts so much to have to do this, but it’s what you would have wanted.

I’m going to try to make this a good Winter Solstice. I’m going to keep our traditions alive. I’m going to make a snowfae, I’m going to have the snowball fight and I’m going to make cookies and hot chocolate to stay on the counter every second of every day. I’m going to try my absolute best to be happy. Even if you aren’t here to see it.

I don’t think I can go to see Jonathan any longer. Even though therapy has helped, I think Jonathan is wrong for me. I’ll se if I can find anyone else after Winter Solstice, but right now I need a break.

I’m also going to take a break from these letters. I might start with them again soon, but for right now, I need to put you behind me. I hope this is the best decision, but I have no idea what I’m doing.

My dearest Y/N. I will forever long for the life he had planned. I will forever sit with the feeling that half of my heart is yet to come home.

x Azriel, I’ll always be your shadow

It was his name that did it. His beautiful and kind name. The name you had grown that fond of throughout your life.

It was the name that made you smile, cry and feel safe all at once. It was a name that brought you so many emotions that you didn’t know how to act.

It was the name of your person.

Because you knew now that you aren’t Annette, 254 years old from the continent.

You are Y/N, 540 years old from Windhaven, and last but definitely not least. You are Y/N the proud mate of Azriel Shadowsinger.

Taglist: @prettylittlewrites @hailqueenconquer @onebadassunicorn @mich0731 @tele86 @mellowmusings @anarchiii @anainkandpaper @donnadiddadog @atomictyphoonkitten @annablack @graciepies @salvatoresister1 @nastylicious @plants-w0rld @stqrgirlies-blog @scoliobean

Let me know if you want to be added!

Dividers by: @issysh3ll

[fanged-fanfics]

Same one who sent wedding cake request and omg I loved it...and now I need a fluffy fic of wedding cake (because I just got this adorable idea seconds before I submitted a request for wedding cake with a wife reader lol)...the fic being wedding cake proposing to female y/n or gender neutral if you prefer...wonder if she will use her business to her advantage during the proposal like...if you want ideas to use as fuel for your own idea....a potential spark to ignite the flame of an idea...imagine her maybe having y/n try on a wedding dress she knew y/n would adore....and while y/n is admiring the dress in the mirror, they don't notice wedding cake going down on one knee while comolimenting the dress, y/n still isnt noticing since they are distracted with analyzing the dress while thinking it was just another 'try on this dress for me' moment...until they hear wedding cake claiming 'it looks so beautiful on you that it makes me want to marry you'...cue them turning to wedding cake and seeing the ring/bracelet.

And if ya want more ideas...Cookies in the store, when they had first watched y/n and wedding cake doing their usual dress analysis at first, weren't paying much attention...until the brides notice the way wedding cake was talking more about y/n's look in the dress and y/n in general during and start getting deja vu of their own partners proposing to them and can see them hushing mother-in-laws, mothers, bridesmaids, whoever decided to go with them like 'shhhh oh my god I know where this is going! I know what is happening! Oh my god! [Insert loving nicknames they have given to friends and family], shush and look!'...and cue reactions escalating when they see her take some steps back and see her get on one knee.....and can defiantly imagine all the brides would go INSANE when y/n says yes!

☆ Wedding Bells Distantly Chime — Wedding Cake Cookie x Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

"Are you sure it's almost done?" You asked, lifting your arms to turn and see the wedding planner diligently fussing over the hem of your outfit. "Patience, my dear, this dress needs to be perfect!" Wedding Cake chirped, brushing down any wrinkles with a gentle touch. "What client is this for anyways?" You asked, Wedding Cake chuckling as she stood, dusting off her gown "Now you know I can't tell you that" she said. "Awh, you have before!" You jokingly pouted. She smiled warmly, pecking your forehead "Maybe this time I want it to be a surprise"

You gave a thoughtful hum, looking it over in the mirror. Like always, you gave a little spin, watching the white fabric pool around you in a fluffy ball of elegance. "Looks pretty good to me" you said, looking over your shoulder in the mirror. "But it's not quite done yet" Wedding Cake replied. She stepped up, a brooch in hand that she pinned to the collar of the dress. It mimicked a small gathering of flowers, adding a pop of color to the otherwise pale ensemble. "Awwh, now we match!" You pointed out, causing Wedding Cake to blush a bit "I think you look best this way"

"Wrapped in three layers of lace?" You joked, delighted in the small snort you heard from your beloved. "No, dearest, I mean looking so effortlessly dashing" she grinned. You turned to face the mirror again, adjusting the skirt of the dress "You always say stuff like that". "And it's always true" she said, and you could hear her rustling around behind you "Now, tell me all you see, I need a full report"

"I don't know many technical terms, but..." You began, squinting a bit to really take it all in "Maybe the top could look a little different? It's got this pattern that wrinkles a bit when I move. But unless you come across someone really picky, I doubt that would be an issue". You heard some gentle 'mhm's behind you as you thought it over some more. All of Wedding Cake Cookie's dresses were only the highest quality. It was hard to find a single flaw in them. Like everything she did, you found yourself enamored with it.

"I.. can't think of much" you admitted "It's really just perfect". "I'm so glad you think so" Wedding Cake said, and you could tell she was closer now. "Anyone would be lucky to wear it, really. I hope I'll have something as beautiful as this on my wedding day" you went on. A little hopeful, sure, but weddings were pretty emotional anyways, so you could allow yourself a hint of sappy-ness now and again.

"You just might" Wedding Cake responded. You felt a little confused, turning to try and ask bout the comment. But when you looked to your side, the space was empty. You glanced around a bit before finally noticing her near the floor, and your eyes met hers as she beamed at you. A pale pink box was balanced in her hand. You looked between her and the object, eyes flicking back and forth several times. "Is that- for the client, or-?" You asked softly, just in the off chance that it was something like that.

Wedding Cake shook her head, holding up the box a little higher to you "I'm sorry for tricking you, dear. There isn't any client this time" she began. You felt your words catch in your throat as she opened the box to reveal a glittering wedding band within. "I remembered all your favorite details of past dresses and thought maybe you'd like this best" Wedding Cake went on. You could see dampness gathering in the corner of her eyes "I've always been just the planner, but... seeing you so happy, it makes me think I could try being the bride. So, my love.. will you marry me?"

Your heart felt like it was trying to jump from your chest. The first instinct you had was to yell an immediate 'yes!', but the emotions hit you in a wave all at once. You could barely speak, small faltering stammers of a sentence being all that came out. When you saw worry begin to etch into her face, your body finally cooperated with your mind. You stepped down from the display stool, collapsing to wrap her tightly in your arms. "Y-Yes.." You finally croaked out "Yes, yes, I'd love to! I'll- I'll spend every day by your side, Wedding Cake Cookie!"

She relaxed with a breath, holding you just as close. You were both a mess of happy tears and chuckling within moments, holding onto each other as if this was the last time. She wiped your eyes dry, whispering reassurances while pecking your cheeks "There there, don't cry, I'm right here. And I will always be right here, my love, for the rest of our lives"

[m1ckeyb3rry]

MY DEAREST MIRA HAPPY 1K 💯🤍 wowow your blog grew sm so quick i literally blinked and boom ur at 1k !?!?!!? congratulations i have and always will be in love with your writing i seriously need to catch up on ur works eheh..

i know the bare minimum about pokemon but google was indeed my friend so… may i request a team consisting of kaiser and arctibax (dragon + ice) 🫡 you know me and angst, plus the fact that i’ve been wanting to read fantasy as of late 🙂‍↕️

Synopsis: Shortly after the death of your mother, you meet a mysterious man in your family’s chapel, and as the days grow colder, you find that he is the closest thing to a savior you might ever know.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Word Count: 18.1k

Content Warnings: pseudo-christianity written by someone who is NOT christian, fantasy au with nonexistent worldbuilding #deal with it, death, angst, no happy ending, sickness, killing, reader is kinda delicate but it IS for a reason beyond just “omg women weak” HAHA, kaiser is an angel, kaiser is also kind of a jerk, kaiser is probably ooc idfk at this point, kaiser pisses me off, i don’t like kaiser, this is based on an actual myth but in the way pjo is based on greek mythology (so basically not at all)

A/N: ANGELLLL HI MY DEAR!! omg hehe i know i feel like i was just at 500 it’s crazy that i already managed to hit 1k 😩 you were an og though fr my seventh follower or smth like that LMAOAO we’ve been through it all together!! anyways sorry this actually rlly sucks but uh…kaiser’s in it ig…and it’s a fantasy au…and it’s kinda sad…and it has an angel…because you’re an angel…😭

The winter before the plague broke out, the river spilled over its banks, stealing your stores of grain and leaving serpents to litter your streets. They were vipers of the diamond-scaled variety, with blue tongues and slit eyes and thin teeth, white with venom and red at the tips. Their killing was random and indiscriminate — the trails of blood they left behind them dried on the cobblestones, and no one dared to wash the dark smears away for fear of their retribution, for fear that they would be the next victim.

It was an omen, that much was clear, though no matter how many stars the king turned to, he could never quite understand what it portended. Anyways, before he could divine the significance, the snakes vanished, leaving the city devoid of life, bar the bronze-footed horses and those individuals who had had the sense to remain inside and away from the dark-mouthed beasts.

The harshness of the winter never abated any; you were never given anything resembling reprieve from terrors after terrors, which came in quick succession. The departure of the serpents was followed by a fortnight of storms, raging winds lashing at your tightly-shuttered windows, shards of ice like daggers driving from the sky into the hard, barren ground, and after the storms there was, for a brief week, a time of eerie stillness where nothing grew nor prospered. 

That week, your every word turned to fog in the air — at least, when you deigned to speak, which was rare — and even the ermine-trimmed cloak your youngest uncle had gifted you two birthdays ago did little to ward away the cold. Your mother, who was of a delicate constitution, shivered near-constantly, wasting away by the fire which burned at all hours with a forlorn expression on her wan face.

It grew warm again, in time, but your mother’s trembling never did cease. You added your cloak to the pile of furs she was buried in, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing could seem to warm her, to breathe life into the husk of a being that she had become — she was hollow like a rattling cicada shell, her cheeks sunken and her eyes blank. 

Right about when your father was at his wits’ end, there was news of the first death: a peasant, one of the farmers in the king’s employ, who had grown unbearably cold and subsequently wilted into a corpse, spending his last few days alive in the same manner a skeleton might.

Your father, the eldest of the king’s younger brothers, had enough power still that he could command every physician in the kingdom to search for a cure. It was obvious that this was the affliction poisoning your mother, who grew worse and worse daily anew. Yet no matter how hard they searched, they could not find any herb nor method of soothing her.

In the meantime, the black-cloaked disease visited homes with even less discernment than the vipers had. There was nary a family who did not have at least one member with the sickness; eventually, the physicians came before your father and the elder of your uncles, the king himself, bowing their cowardly necks and saying there was nothing to be done about it. It was doom. Anyone who had the illness would surely die, and the best thing that could be done for your mother now was to leave her be so that you, too, did not fall victim to her plight.

You stood abruptly at the announcement, which ordinarily would have earned you glares from the surrounding noblemen but today only entitled you to their pity. Gathering your skirts in one hand, you ran towards your mother’s quarters as fast as you could, ignoring your father’s shouts for the guards to stop you.

She was where she always was, and even the slamming of the door did not cause her to flinch. The firelight reflected in her eyes, which shone like mirrors, and when you knelt by the armchair she rarely moved from, she exhaled slightly.

“Mother,” you whispered, drawing her hand out of the blankets and holding it to your cheek. It was bony and thin; already, she was more skeleton than woman, but something in her must’ve prevailed, must’ve rallied and clung to existence, for her heart still beat in her chest, however shallowly. “Mother, don’t — please don’t —”

She sighed softly. You wondered if she could even hear you, or if she was too fascinated with something beyond your vision to know that you were there. You clutched her hand tighter, her knuckles digging into your palm, her fingers like snow on your face.

“Y/N!” It was your father, bursting into the room, guards flanking him as they raced towards you. You pressed closer to your mother’s chair, gazing up at her. To your surprise, her eyes had widened, reflecting a radiance that made even the hearth seem pale. Her lips, once lush and painted, now dry and cracked from dehydration, parted in wonder, and then for the first time since she had grown sick, she spoke.

“Michael,” she breathed out.

“Michael?” you repeated. Even your father paused, tremulous hope brimming in his irises as your mother smiled slightly. Her hand on your face balled into a fist against the bone of your jaw, and then abruptly it loosened. “Mother? Mother, what do you mean, Michael?”

She laughed. It was a wheezing sound, brittle and reedy, breaking off at the end into something painful. For the first time, she tilted her head towards you, and it was as if she were met with a stranger, though eventually recognition did flash across her face.

“Ah, daughter,” she said, her voice hoarse as she smoothed her hand over your hair. “He is here. Right in front of you. Don’t you see him? He is so beautiful. As beautiful as the paintings.”

“There is no one,” you said, your throat thick with tears, your voice barely able to escape it. “No one is here but us.”

The soft motions of her fingers stilled, and she settled back in her chair, suddenly content. You gripped her wrist, willing her to come back, but she was no longer awake, her eyelids sealed shut, a faint smile still lingering on her face.

“You shouldn’t be here,” your father said gruffly, as if waking from a dream. Before you knew it, one of the guards, a handsome boy with hair like marigolds and eyes like autumn, was lifting you from the ground, carrying you out of the room despite your half-hearted protests and depositing you on the ground in the corridor with a bow.

“My father is still in there. You ought to retrieve him, as well,” you said. The guard looked towards the door and shook his head.

“If your father wishes to stay, then it is not my place to stop him,” he said.

“I see,” you said, for there was no point in further argument. Leaning against the stone wall, you wrapped your arms around your torso; compared to the sweltering heart of your mother’s chambers, the corridor was all but frigid. “Do you think this plague is some sort of a punishment?”

“For what, your highness?” the guard said. He was humoring you only because your father, to whom he was sworn, remained in the room even now, so you only shrugged.

“I’m not sure,” you said. “Perhaps the people have committed some wrong, or perhaps it was my uncle, his majesty the king.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “I am not so well-versed in the matters of theology.”

“Only of the sword, I’d reckon,” you said. 

“That’s right,” he said.

“My mother mentioned Michael,” you said. “Right before you dragged me out.”

“My apologies for that, your highness, but it was your father’s command,” he said.

“It’s alright,” you said, finding some diversion in the conversation, which at any rate was a welcome distraction. “I do not blame you. Do you know who Michael is?”

“Doesn’t everybody?” he said. “Though I suppose you might know more than I do.”

“Likely it is the case,” you agreed. “He’s the emperor of angels, or so they claim. Perhaps we are biased because he is our kingdom’s guardian; well, anyways, according to the stories and the songs, he is the one who enacts divine will unto us. Supposedly he amongst his peers is the most merciful by far, but there are as many or more poems of his rage as there are of his kindness, so who can say?”

“I didn’t know the last part,” the guard said. You patted his armored shoulder, motioning for him to follow you — he did so hesitantly, with a backwards glance at his broad-backed counterpart, who stayed behind to watch over your still-absent father.

“It’s true, though I doubt rage and kindness are things he can really understand,” you said, weaving through the hallways of the palace until you reached a familiar wooden door. 

“What does that mean?” the guard said.

“It’s a personal theory,” you said. “But how can we expect angels to understand the turmoils of humanity when they are so removed from it?”

“I confess I’m lost, your highness,” he said, ducking his head. “I shall continue to pursue the ways of the sword and leave such philosophical questions to you and your ilk.”

“Maybe it is for the best,” you said. “I don’t know that my uncle would be so pleased to learn I am becoming a preacher to the common folk. It’s not the kind of role best-suited to a princess.”

“Certainly not,” the guard said.

“Have you ever been here?” you said as you strode past the tapestry-lined walls of the gallery without pause. The guard shook his head.

“I’ve never had cause to,” he said. Arriving upon the painting you wished to show him, you stopped abruptly, pointing at the gilt-framed portrait, reveling in the shock which twisted his features. 

“It’s him,” you said. “The one my mother spoke of. Naturally, the painter has been lost to time, but the subject can never be forgotten.”

The background was plain — a muddy field, gray clouds brewing on the horizon and threatening rain, sunlight breaking through in a halo over his brow. He was tall and regal, a sword in his right hand, pointed at the neck of the viper upon which his left foot was planted. Gold hair cascaded down his shoulders, the shade of the sun at midday, and in his right hand was a rose, the same impossible color of blue as his eyes. The vines of it crept up his arm and curled around his neck, and from his back sprouted a pair of wings, the feathers silver-brown like an eagle’s, unfurled like banners in the air behind him.

“Michael,” the guard said.

“Yes,” you said. “He reveals himself to us very rarely, and only if there is some message which he wishes to impart. I wonder…I wonder what it means that he appeared to my mother.”

“He’s a healer, isn’t he?” he said. “Perhaps with this blessing, she will be the first to recover from this plague.”

“Perhaps,” you said quietly. “Well, I suppose I ought to return to the court and apologize for my misconduct.”

“Nobody blames you, your highness,” he said. “Nor do they think poorly of the reaction.”

“Regardless, it was unruly and childish,” you said. “I do not wish for my father to fall from my uncle’s favor because of my behavior. It’ll be better if I show that I am remorseful. Come, then, let us go. Unless my father has banned that as well?”

“He has made no such demands,” the guard. “After you, your highness.”

“Very well,” you said, and with one final glance at the painting of the severe angel, you led the guard out of the gallery, back towards the throne room you had fled from earlier.

Your father spent the night in your mother’s chambers, though his advisors begged him not to; perhaps it was a form of precognition or intuition, for he ignored their advice and lay at her feet until the next morning, whereupon he exited the room and informed you all, his countenance faded and dull and lifeless, that she was dead.

The carriage ride to your family’s summer estate was silent and awkward. As soon as your mother had been buried in the royal cemetery, your father had insisted you escape to your riverside manor, which had remained mercifully untouched from the winter’s floods. And so, although it was still barely spring and more people fell to the plague by the day, you packed your things and took leave from the castle, at nighttime when there would be no one to see you go. So quickly was it all done that the earth over your mother’s grave was still freshly turned, and you didn’t even have the time to wish her farewell before your father was ushering you into the carriage and whispering to the coachman to hasten his preparations.

“It will be better for us,” your father said again and again. It was such a hollow refrain that he kept repeating, clinging to it like it was sanity, but it didn’t become any more believable the more times he said it.

Yet regardless, you responded with the same thing every time: “Yes, father.”

“Perhaps this plague is a curse on the castle, in which case we are justified in fleeing,” your father said. “And I have already told my brother.”

You pulled your cloak tighter around you to ward away the nip of the nighttime air. “Yes, father.”

“Besides, who can blame us? Not when — not when your mother—” he broke off.

“Yes,” you said miserably. “Father.”

He might’ve ordinarily snapped at you, but today he only sighed and nodded slightly. You supposed you should’ve been grateful that he had enough of a handle on his grief that he could refrain from spitting poison at you, but gratitude was one emotion you could not bring yourself to muster just then, so all you could give him was an exhausted upturn of your mouth which resembled a smile in its barest form.

In the sprawling grounds of the summer estate, it was easy to pretend that nothing wrong had ever happened. There was no sign of serpents amongst the prickly evergreens, for the needly undergrowth was hostile to their pale, soft bellies, and so few servants remained there year round that, of their small number, the majority weren’t even aware a plague had broken out in the first place.

“It will be better for us,” your father said again, this time with finality, helping you down from the carriage and brushing himself off. “This was the right decision.”

You wanted to tell him that there was no world in which you earnestly agreed with that, because you had left your mother behind, and how could that be right? Yet he was so determined that you did not have the heart to, so you only exhaled and shuffled after him, the thought of staying outside for even another moment all but unbearable.

There was much less to do in the lonely manor, where you sat by yourself at all hours of the day, so eventually, despite your reluctance, your thoughts turned to the last time you had seen your mother, replaying that final conversation over and over in your mind until it was all you could see.

On the third day of this self-imposed torture, you dragged yourself out of your bed, trudging to the chapel which your father had commissioned — not for himself, for he was never religious, but for your mother, who often found solace in the marble of its walls and the gold of its altar.

The door, heavy and wooden and large enough to admit a pair of horses at once, opened with a groan and a plume of dust, revealing the inside of the chapel, which was as ornate as you remembered. Your father had spared no expense in its construction, and the floors and walls alike were covered in intricate, patterned mosaic, the high windows rimmed with marble and the ceiling painted with delicate, jewel-colored pigment.

In the middle of the room was a figure, and at first you thought he must be a statue, but then he moved slightly to face you and you realized he was a man; at least, if one could consider someone like that a man, for he bore all the resemblance to the cheerful guards of the palace that a dove did to a common sparrow. His hair was choppy and short and gold, though the ends faded into a blue shade as they trailed down his back, and his bright eyes were lined with something the color of blood that only threw the azure of his irises into greater relief. There was a sort of perfection to the slope of his nose and the curve of his neck, his shoulders held straight and true, his chin high and proud — strangest of all, however, stranger than any of these things by far, was that there was a rusted sword clenched in his fist, the sheath of which sat empty on his hip.

You were quite certain that he did not belong there, but you did not have the wherewithal to question him, so you only shut the door behind you and sat in the entrance, leaning against the walnut frame and closing your eyes, clasping your hands together in front of you and wishing you had something to pray for.

“What have you come here in search of?”

The voice was unfamiliar and keen, like a dagger in your heart or a fang in your calf. You knew without knowing that it must be the man speaking; opening your eyes, you were unsurprised to find him peering at you with no small amount of disdain.

“Whatever do you mean?” you said. He stared at you with a discomfiting intensity, his fingers playing with the hilt of his sword, his eyes wide and endless like the sky, his brows furrowed.

“People don’t come here unless they want something,” he said. “So what is it that you pray for?”

“The things I want are impossible to obtain, so I do not pray for them at all,” you said. 

“Hardly anything is impossible. What a limiting way to think,” he said. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“At least it is not an arrogant one,” you said. “Unless you believe that resurrecting my mother is truly something which can be done?”

“Arrogant?” the man said. “Certainly, your mother could be brought back, so for you to accuse me of arrogance is unfounded. The question is whether she should be revived.”

“What a pointless differentiation,” you said. “I doubt you believe she should be.”

“No, of course not,” he said. “Though I don’t believe anyone should, so you ought not to take it personally.”

You swallowed, hugging your knees to your chest, resting your chin atop them and averting your eyes from the strange man. Likely you should’ve felt angry at his callousness, but in the moment, the only feeling you could summon was resignation.

“Perhaps that is the truth,” you said. “Then it is the same regardless. She won’t ever come back. This is her chapel, you know. I thought I might find some reprieve by encasing myself in this place, but I suppose it isn’t so. There is no reprieve. I think of her always.”

The man made no move to offer you any words of reassurance, nor did he drop his sword. He just stood there and watched you with the sort of wary caginess that one might expect from a half-tamed animal, shifting and unsettled and pacing. You found it almost comforting that he did not offer you any platitudes nor condolences, for you had heard enough of those that you were sick of them.

“Who are you, anyways?” you said. “A servant? I don’t recognize you, but then it has been some time since I last came to this estate, so it isn’t a surprise.”

“I am something along those lines,” he said. 

“And what business do you have in this chapel?” you said. “As far as I know, only members of my family are permitted entry.”

“Nobody has ever stopped me,” he said. “So why shouldn’t I be allowed? Do you mean to cast me from here?”

He was already shifting from foot to foot, as if he expected you to strike him or throw him from the chapel; it wasn’t an incorrect sentiment, exactly, for certainly if you were your father you would’ve, especially for his earlier impudence. What cause did a mere servant have to talk to the king’s family in such a way? But you could not summon that same indignation, so you only shook your head, standing on legs which had grown sleepy and electric from inactivity.

“No, I have no great desire to,” you said. “If you do not disturb me, then I won’t disturb you. Might we coexist in that manner?”

His eyebrows raised almost involuntarily, and then he shrugged. It was an odd way of doing it, though you couldn’t exactly point out what was odd about it, and then he tapped his sword against his leg.

“I suppose it isn’t a tall order,” he said.

“You should leave your sword at the door, however,” you said. “Aren’t weapons forbidden in places like this?”

“It stays,” he said with finality. You peered at it; it was a comely instrument despite its age, the hilt gold and embellished with roses, dark corrosion creeping up the blue-white blade like vines, the tip as sharp as a thorn. His fingers were wrapped around it like a vice, and you tilted your head when you realized that there was something black drawn on his hand, resembling an emperor’s crown, though you were too far to ascertain if that was what it truly was.

“As you wish,” you said. “It’s not me who you’ll have to answer to, anyways. At least I tried.”

“Your efforts will be appreciated by someone or another, I’m sure,” he said.

“I’m sure they will be,” you said with a scoff. “Ah, wait, sir. Before you leave — can I ask for your name?”

“My name? Why, so you may curse it?” he said.

“So that I may call you by it,” you said. “If we happen to meet again, here or elsewhere.”

“Is it important to you?” he said.

“It’s a courtesy,” you said.

“Since when has the king’s family ever known courtesy?” he said. You thought he might shirk away after the brazen statement, but he only gazed at you levelly, as if challenging you to respond.

“We are trained in it from birth, and must practice it from then on,” you said.

“Courtesy and etiquette are not the same thing,” he shot back.

“Will you tell me your name or not? This exchange is tiresome,” you said. “I shall assign you a name of my own if you do not give it. I doubt it will be to your tastes.”

“Kaiser,” he said. “You can call me that, if you are so insistent.”

“Kaiser,” you repeated, tasting it in your mouth. There was a familiarity and a power to the word, but you could not place your finger on what it meant; deciding it was unimportant, you nodded. “I am Y/N.”

“Yes, I knew that already,” he said.

“It would’ve been rude if I did not introduce myself to you as well,” you said.

“And there is the difference between courtesy and etiquette,” he said.

“Hm?” you said. He did not even look at you, lifting his chin so that he could admire the ceiling.

“What a beautiful scene,” he said. 

“Beautiful?” you said, frowning. You had never taken the time to understand it, but now you saw that it was a depiction of Michael killing the hellish viper that was his bane. The roughness of the strokes, however, lended a gruesome quality to it that the painting in the king’s gallery did not have — Michael’s face was twisted into a grotesque leer instead of a gentle smile, and his sword was stabbed through the serpent’s throat instead of pointed at it in warning. Red-glazed pebbles wept like tears along the snake’s body, and the sword in Michael’s hand was made of cruel ivory, his eyes chips of blue glass that twinkled with delight instead of solemnity. 

“Isn’t it?” he said, smiling for the first time, not at you but at the mosaic. 

“Well, there’s a quality to the workmanship,” you said. “But it’s too gory for my tastes.”

“The truth of things can never be too gory,” he instructed you, and though he had no qualifications in the way of priesthood, you were somehow inclined to listen. “The truth is the truth. If that is how it happened, then you must accept it.”

“Who are we to know how it happened?” you said.

“Who indeed?” he said.

“You speak in riddles,” you said. “It is distracting. I do not mind it, though, because there is much I wish to be distracted from at present, so I am not chiding you, necessarily, but I hope that you know.”

“I know,” he said, amusement in his tone. “It’s something I’ve been accused of many times before, and by men several orders of magnitude more important than you as well.”

“I see,” you said. “Regardless, I believe my father might search for me soon, and as I have found some merriment in you, I do not wish for him to find you here quite yet, so I shall take my leave. But I will return! Please be here when I do.”

“I will be here,” he said, despite the fact that you hadn’t mentioned when you would next visit the chapel. You didn’t question it; he felt like the kind of person that was better left a mystery, or at least figured out slowly, so that no layers were missed.

The next morning, you entered the chapel as the bell rang upon the hour, peering in through the door and smiling slightly when you saw him perched upon a bench made of the same rich walnut as the entryway. He was perfectly still, his back straight, his sword laid across his lap, and he did not turn to greet you, staring straight at the flickering candles of the altar. Your footsteps echoed as you crossed the room, sitting on the bench directly opposite him, facing the candles as well.

“Did you light them?” you said.

“They were already lit,” he said.

“Hm,” you said. “It wasn’t me.”

“Naturally,” he said.

“I suppose someone else visits this place, too,” you said. 

“What will you do about it?” he said.

“Nothing,” you said. “If it brings them solace, then who am I to deny them that? The nearest church is a long walk; even this is not so close to the manor. I am weary already.”

At this he did glance at you, his eyes lowering for a moment before he returned his attention to the front of the room.

“You are frail, then,” he said. “The walk is not that long.”

“My mother was the frail one,” you said. “I have inherited my father’s good health, or so I am told.”

“Ah,” he said. 

“I will have to come on my horse next time,” you said, only half-joking. Perhaps the distance was not quite long enough to warrant riding, but you really had been winded, and the constriction of your chest was more than a little unpleasant, like there was a stone pressing into your heart.

“If that is what you require,” he said, clearly disinterested in the conversation. You wondered what he saw in the candles, if there was something he could divine from the small, captive flames.

“Was your mother a moth?” you said.

“What?” he said, blinking at you in alarm. “Are you an idiot?”

He said it so genuinely that it felt more like concern than anything. You suppressed a smile, pointing at the beeswax dripping into the golden bowl set there to collect it.

“I’ve only ever seen moths be so enamored by candles before,” you said. 

“So you are an idiot,” he said, clicking his tongue. “What a foolish thing to say.”

“It was in jest,” you said. “My apologies. I shall remain serious in your company henceforth.”

“See to it that you are silent as well,” he said, and so you were, sitting across the aisle from him and watching the candles until they burnt out. Even then, he stayed facing the wisps of smoke, tracking them with his eyes as they fluttered into the air with the briskness of a wasp, so eventually you left him behind, him and those blackened stumps marring the air and the altar alike with their crumbling, papery ash.

“There is news that the plague is worsening,” your father said one day at dinner. The news of the plague brought to the forefront of your mind your mother, who you had done so well at ignoring until then. It was easy to pretend that the sickness had never existed, that those days of flooding rivers and viper-lined streets and shivering women had been nothing more than horrible dreams in quick succession. 

“I suppose it shouldn’t come as a shock,” you said. “Winter has come early this year.”

“Do you think so?” your father said. You gulped, pushing at your food with your fork.

“Already, there is a chill in the air,” you said. 

“What horrible luck,” he said. “We’ve hardly had time to recover and replenish our stores of grain. If frost comes to the fields early, then we are doomed.”

“I am surprised it has not yet bitten the earth,” you admitted. Your father, who had always trusted you more than most men would trust their daughters, groaned, dragging his hand over his face.

“There is still time?” he said.

“We can hope,” you said.

“I will order the fiefs to begin their harvesting at once,” he said. “By all rights, summer is still yet to fade into autumn, but even if it is premature, the crops should be serviceable, and the fields can be replanted at once. If it goes well, then our yields may nearly double.”

“A sensible decision, father,” you said. “That should be more than enough to last us all until the next spring.”

“Thank you for your counsel, my girl,” your father said, and if you were not seated at the table, he would’ve patted your shoulder or kissed your cheek or shown his pride in some other such affectionate manner. “I will be lost without you.”

“I am not going anywhere,” you said. “Am I?”

“Not yet,” he said. “But one day you will leave this manor for your husband’s home, and then I shall be on my own.”

“That is still some years away,” you said. 

“As many years as possible,” your father said. “There are no suitors in this kingdom worthy of you, anyways.”

“I will trust you when you say that, father,” you said. The lines around his eyes deepened from the force of his grin, and it heartened you to see, for he hadn’t smiled much since your mother had died. Setting your cutlery down, crossing them over your plate as was neat and expected, you placed your hand over his, the skin of his hunt-worn palms rough against yours. “For now, I am content here.”

“And here you shall stay,” he said, firm and sure in the way that only the brother of a king could be. What he said was what happened. He commanded things into existence and so they did occur; it was the kind of power that very few were afforded, and hardly ever in a greater quantity than him, so when he spoke, it was always with the weight of expectation behind it.

You really did ride your horse to the chapel after that dinner with your father. Now that you had mentioned it to him, you could not help feeling the signs of the impending ice of the dead season, and only hugging the warm neck of your little bay palfrey as she trotted along could ward it away. She was gentle and game enough to not mind it, nuzzling you when you got off and dropping her head to graze where you tied her. You pulled your gloves off and tucked them in your pocket, rubbing the whorl of a white star on her forehead before ducking into the chapel.

It was later than you had been the other times you had come, but Kaiser was there anyways, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his forehead pressed against the altar. Never had you seen such misconduct, but you thought he must be sleeping, so you did what you could to be as silent as possible, tiptoeing over to stand behind him, reaching out your hand to jostle him.

“Don’t,” he said, flinching back and glaring at you over his shoulder.

“You were awake?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. 

“I thought you were not,” you said. He squinted at you.

“Your powers of discernment are frightening,” he said.

“Because of their uncanny strength?” you tried.

“The opposite,” he said. “You are fumbling and blind. I do not know how you have made it so far in life.”

“Maybe it’s a miracle,” you said, sitting beside him, mirroring the arrangement of his legs, your elbows digging into your thighs so that you could rest your chin in your hands. “My birth was one. Why not the rest of my life?”

“I assume you want me to ask what you mean by that,” he said.

“It’s not that I want it,” you said, swiveling eagerly so that you could face him. He snorted, not offering you the same dignity, the gold of the altar reflecting on his cheekbones. “But I’ll tell you if you’d like!”

“I wouldn’t,” he said. You waited, but he did not budge. The sword was at his side, his one hand placed over it, so instead of telling him any stories, you bent so that you could inspect the weapon.

“Where did you get this, anyways?” you said. “It’s of a make I don’t recognize.”

“And you are well-acquainted with every blacksmith in the entire kingdom, I expect?” he said.

“The ones of note, yes,” you said. “The ones with the talent to make something so fine. Don’t you remember whose daughter I am? I was loved by knights long before my father laid eyes upon me. They taught me a little.”

“What use does a princess have for smithing?” he said, though he did not make any moves to pull the sword away, allowing you to inspect it. You dared not touch it, lest he yank it back, but it seemed the lingering of your eyes was permissible, so you were unabashed in allowing them to rest upon the gleaming metal.

“Not much,” you said. “But a knight has very many uses for the matter.”

“You are no knight,” he said with a sneer. 

“Of course not,” you said. Now that you were closer, you saw that the centers of the roses blooming on the hilt were sapphire, and what you had thought was rust had a different shade to it, something dried and burgundy that you could not identify. “But they were. The ways of the sword were all that they knew, so I was raised on such tales instead of the more typical stories.”

A gust of wind blew through the windows, and you shuddered, tucking your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. Kaiser gripped his sword tighter, the veins of his hand standing out blue and angry, but otherwise he did not react.

“One blacksmith brands his work with a bull,” you said. “Another with a dog, and a third with laurels. Many and many things, yet the rose has no place on the list. It’s too sacred. Nobody would dare carve Michael’s symbol into a mere mortal weapon. Who are we, anyways? To compare ourselves to someone who does such grand things?”

“You said grand,” he noted. “Not great.”

“Great implies an antonym,” you said. “But I don’t think such concept really exist to him and those of that kind — good and bad and all. There are different scales, different evils, but the ways in which the angels impact our lives can only be grand or minute. It’s unfair to assign morality to it.”

“Yet if these acts, whether grand or minute, change your life for the better, or alternately for the worse, then can you not judge them to be either good or bad?” he said.

“I can, and indeed many do, but they are not my concern. I speak only of Michael, and I maintain that it is impossible for him to turn that judgment unto himself,” you said. “You know, my mother saw him right before she died. Everyone thought it was a stroke of good fortune. He’s a healer, so he must’ve been there to heal her — yet they forgot, in their desperate hope, that he also comes to escort us to our final resting places. As he had come for my mother.”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s true.”

“Well,” you said. “That’s it, then. Is he evil for taking my mother? Can I liken him to a villain for what he did? I would like to. It would be easier…if there was someone to blame, then it would be easier. I wish I could hate someone for it, but I cannot. There is no one. Michael did not take her to hurt me; that is just what he does. I can point my finger at that ceiling and curse him, but what good will it do? It won’t change his nature.”

Kaiser was silent. You must’ve bored him, and you wished you could disappear into the floor, melt into a mosaic, and freeze in place before he could mock you.

“Angels are above humans,” he said after a while.

“Everyone knows that,” you said.

“So how can humans do something that an angel cannot?” he said. “How is it possible?”

“I suppose it’s not unique to them,” you said. “Asking an angel to understand a person is like asking you or I to empathize with a dormouse. The best we can do is impartiality; it’s the same for them, I’d say.”

“Dormice?” he said. “I don’t think it’s the same at all.”

“No?” you said. “I’m not that learned. I don’t take offense. There’s as many theories about these obscurities as there are stars in the sky; I pass the time by coming up with more by the day, for I have little else to do when I am not here, but of course they would not hold under examination. I’m hardly a priest.”

There was another gale, this one howling and accompanied by your horse huffing anxiously outside. You doubted it was anything more than an oncoming squall, and ordinarily you’d wait for it to pass, but you did not want to leave the mare alone in the rain, so reluctantly you stood, dipping your head at Kaiser in the politest farewell you could muster.

“Wait,” he said when you reached the door, his voice still a dull, quiet monotone that you had to strain to properly listen to. “Next time.”

“Next time?” you said.

“Tell me the story of your birth,” he said, and then he was glowering at you again, demanding and haughty and piercing all in turn. “I will understand you.”

“Who said you won’t?” you said rhetorically. “Farewell for now. Please be safe in returning to your quarters.”

Your mare pranced the entire way back to the stables, her ears pricked towards the sky, her tail held high and the whites of her eyes showing. You tangled your fingers in her mane, the coming storm seeping through the fabric of your cloak as you urged her forward, hardly making it to the stable before it began to pour, ducking under the stone lip of the roof and holding onto her reins with sweat-slicked hands, trembling from the relief of the near-miss and leaning against her muscular neck to regain your bearings.

At the end of that week, you were met with a visitor — the youngest and dearest of your uncles, who loved you as if you were his own eldest daughter. He had set out from his own manor as soon as he had heard the news, and such was his haste that even now, the grit of his travels lined his clothes and features, but that did not dampen his jovial spirit any.

“You must rest, uncle!” you said, wincing as he regaled you with a story about the strange twins he had met while riding to the manor, with faces like crocodiles and mouths that only spoke lies, right up until he cut their tongues out, after which they could no longer speak at all.

“My, my, how you fret! Lovely niece, you are more and more like your mother every day,” your uncle said. “You must be so proud of her.”

This was accompanied by a good-natured punch to your father’s arm; anyone else would’ve been reprimanded, but at his brother’s antics, your father could only roll his eyes and cuff him on the ear, just as good-natured and half-heartedly.

“I don’t think it’s possible for a man to be prouder,” he said.

“Thank you, father,” you said, curtseying before brandishing an irreverent finger at your uncle. “But really, I insist! Let me take you to your chambers. You have come so far — surely you are weary.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it…” he said.

“There will be plenty of time for your stories tomorrow over breakfast,” you assured him, taking the stairs slowly, so that he did not overexert himself. “I am sure you have many more.”

“Of course,” he said. “Though not all of them are as lively.”

“Is there cause for alarm?” you said. Your uncle turned away guiltily. Slipping the key to his chambers into the lock and rotating it, you waited. “You must tell me if there is.”

“I don’t want to cause undue stress,” he said. “Especially after everything with your mother.”

“You have already said it. Better to be done with the affair and tell me the whole of things; it’ll only stress me further if you leave me to conjure scenarios of my own in my mind, so there is no avoiding it now,” you said.

“Come in with me, then,” he said, following after you into the chambers where his luggage was already waiting. You sat on the edge of the bed, allowing him to collapse into the desk chair, his head in his hands. “The queen.”

“No,” you said, praying it was paranoia that forced your thoughts down the ugliest of paths. “No, you don’t mean—”

“She has taken ill,” he said. “Her condition is deteriorating at the same rate your mother’s did. My brother the king is…not optimistic. She has been secluded in an attempt to contain the affliction, though of course we do not know how long she has been sick and how much longer she has been contagious. The entire royal family, barring you, your father, and I — if we stay away from the palace, that is — could succumb before the flowers next bloom.”

“Only the three of us will be left?” you said. Your uncle nodded.

“It seems that even in death, your mother is looking out for you,” he said. Something scratched at the back of your throat, and despite how you tried to swallow it back, it only clawed its way up, coalescing into a small whimper. Your uncle’s face softened, returning ten years of youth to it. “Don’t be afraid. We are safe here. As safe as can be.”

“How does it matter?” you said. “If everyone else is gone, how does it matter?”

To this, your uncle had no response, so he only gave you a pitying look and bade you to return to your room, promising you both would meet again and discuss it in the morning, when your father could join you. Whether he would’ve held true to that oath or not, you didn’t know, because as soon as you heard the murmuring of the servants awakening, you threw on a pair of house-slippers and fled the manor, running as fast as you could to the chapel where you knew Kaiser would be waiting.

In the watery light of dawn, he was almost ghostly, ephemeral like smoke or a wraith, the blue of his hair iridescent, the gold closer to a soft cream. Today he was far from the candles, sitting on one of the benches again, his back to you. You panted from the exertion of your earlier pace, but he did not move, did not try to assist you or even greet you.

“There was a prophecy,” you coughed out, flopping onto the closest bench, lying on it with your feet hanging off of the ends. “About my mother. It said that my father’s blood would spell her death.”

Kaiser did not say anything, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t listening, or at least that was what you assured yourself with. He must’ve heard you. He must’ve known.

“My uncles commanded him to take a second wife. The prophecy must’ve referred to their progeny, and indeed every heir they attempted to conceive died in her womb before it could kill her in turn, further proving the point. My father refused, however. He wouldn’t do that to her. If he could not have a child with her, then he would not have one at all,” you said. “I’m sure you know where this is going.”

“They prayed,” he said. “In turn, they were gifted with a child.”

“And my mother did not die,” you said. “That’s why people say I’ve been agreeable for my entire life. I did not fuss, either. I was good, or so I’ve been told. The best of my cousins by far. At the time of my birth, my father was away on some campaign for my uncle the king, so he did not even hear of it for many months, and he could not return for many more. It’s why I was raised by knights and nuns.”

“And why you spout theories and smithing as if you were born to them,” he said.

“That as well. Anyways, the nuns always praised me for defying that prophecy,” you said. “For saving my mother from a certain death. Do you understand?”

“Prophecies are hardly ever so straightforward,” he said. “You can divine one million meanings from them, but it is the million-and-first which will come true. It’s foolhardy and presumptuous for one to claim they understand the truth behind the future. You can only know it once it has come to pass.”

“Yes,” you said. “I don’t disagree.”

“Perhaps it was still your father’s blood that led to your mother’s demise,” he said.

“How? She fell to the plague,” you said.

“It ended with the plague,” he said. “What did it begin with?”

“Snakes,” you said. “No, before that. A flood.”

“And before that?” he said, condescending as anything. It would’ve been infuriating if it was not so at home with his severe countenance.

“There was nothing before that,” you said. 

“If that’s what you think,” he said. “Anyways, is that what you came to tell me?”

“The queen is ill,” you said, gripping the back of the bench and using it to push yourself to a sitting position, swinging your legs down so that your feet were planted on the ground again. “They think it is the same disease which ruined my mother. It’s likely that the entire royal family will be lost — except my youngest uncle, my father, and myself, for all of us fled before the outbreak could reach the castle and have not yet shown any symptoms of the plague.”

“Maybe they deserve it,” he said, with no small amount of contempt. You trained your eyes on the ground, unsure of how you could even fathom saying something, and in your mother’s own chapel, as well. Surely you would be judged for it, but for some reason you thought that you owed honesty to Kaiser.

“Maybe they do,” you said. “Likely they do. But they are — they are still my family. I don’t want them to die.”

His sword caught the sun, and for a moment the maroon on the blade seemed to writhe and drip, coming alive in the light and only stilling when clouds passed across the windows once more. Kaiser’s shoulders still did not face you, but he tilted his head so that he could regard you as he spoke.

“You think they deserve it,” he said, phrasing it as a statement of fact instead of a question.

“I don’t know,” you said. “They must. We all must. These disasters are likely a form of punishment, though I know not what we are being punished for.”

“There is cruelty in this kingdom,” Kaiser said, his voice so cold that it caused a nervous tremor to shoot through you. “And it takes its purest shape in the L/Ns. That must be why they are facing the worst of it.”

You wished you could disagree with him. You wanted to. You wanted to tell him that your father and your uncles and your ten cousins were kind and good, but neither could you lie. Neither could you reassure him of a falsehood, when the both of you knew that had it been anyone else in your family who had found him in the chapel, he would’ve lost his head by now.

“They are cruel,” you said. “I know it. But I cannot bring myself to hate them, not when they love me.”

“It does not absolve them,” he said.

“It does not,” you said heavily. “And I suppose it does not absolve me, either.”

This time, he stood, hefting his sword and pacing in the same frantic way that a leashed dog might. He did not try to brandish the sword, allowing it to drag along at his side, but neither did he let it go. You watched him until you were dizzy from the repetitive nature of his path, and then you covered your eyes and listened to the thud of his boots against the ground.

“You are more like your mother and the queen,” he said.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you said. “Is it because I am a woman? I have cousin-sisters as well, however, and they are as L/N as me.”

“No, it is not that,” he said. “You have been dragged into the sins of the L/Ns against your will, and now you must reap their consequences alongside them. Whether or not you have earned them is irrelevant at this point; you will receive them.”

“It’s already begun,” you said. “My mother — my mother — and who else? They will all be gone, and my father and uncle aren’t so young, which means I shall soon be alone. What will I do then?”

Kaiser was a servant, so by all rights such things were beyond him, but never once had he spoken to you with the deference that his station implied. You didn’t think he knew what it meant to bow his head and comply blindly, so you waited for him to respond, to bestow some small wisdom hidden in the biting jaws of his blasé attitude.

“You won’t be alone,” he said.

“You don’t know that,” you said.

“I do,” he said, as if it were an undeniable truth, written in the foundations of the world. You had never been the type to feel comforted by platitudes, but something about the way it sounded coming from him made your heart swell. “Y/N L/N, you will never be alone. That I am sure of.”

“Do you guarantee it?” you said. “Even though it’s impossible, do you swear?”

“I do,” he said. It was the kindest thing he had ever said to you, so you smiled slightly, although there was no amiability in his tone.

“Then I will believe you,” you said. 

“Believe me or don’t,” he said. “Your feelings will not affect that outcome.”

“Hm,” you said. “Well, thank you for reassuring me.”

“That isn’t why I said that,” he said. 

“But you managed it anyways,” you said. “I need to go, though. I did not dress to be outside, and it’s a bit cool today, isn’t it?”

“No,” he said, a peculiar lilt to his voice. “No, Y/N. I don’t think that it is.”

With your uncle there, it was harder to find time to visit the chapel. Where once Kaiser had been the only one to occupy your time and thus your thoughts, the only one with enough of a mystery to his being that even the bleakest of your grief could be warded off by it, now your uncle was there to distract you, with his stories and his tricks and his gifts. Never one for religion, just like your father, he laughed when you suggested visiting the chapel, and often by the time you were freed of his company, you were far too exhausted to even think about leaving your chambers, let alone the manor.

He was a whirlwind of a man, your youngest uncle, a tempestuous person whose sword was as ready as his smile. Quick to anger and slow to forgive, he had been the spear of your father’s campaign, slicing through the villages they conquered in the name of the king with brutal, clinical efficiency. You were the only person who had never been subject to his wrath, for you were the youngest and mildest of your ten cousins, and thus cherished by the rest of your family in a way that the others were not.

“Have you finished enough of those to go in the woods with me? There’s a place I’m thinking of going hunting, but I’d like your guidance before I do so,” your uncle said one morning, when the sun shone and the sky was as blue as if it were made of ceramic. You were sitting across from him in the parlor, embroidering handkerchiefs with your family’s sigil, folding them and placing them on the table for your father’s use. Your father himself was out for the day, checking on one of his vassal’s progress in the early harvest, which was likely why your uncle was asking you for assistance instead of him.

“It’s only something to while away the hours,” you said, tying off the end of the thin thread in a perfect, imperceptible knot, shaking out the newly completed handkerchief and then setting it with the rest. “I can go whenever you’d like.”

“I’ll send word to the stablehands to tack our horses, then,” your uncle said. “Have you gone to the river’s shore before?”

“Once or twice,” you said.

“If there’s anywhere to find deer, it’ll be there. What do you say about venison for supper by the weekend?” he said.

“Father will be pleased,” you said. The youngest of his brothers and yet the most talented when it came to hunting, your uncle was known in your family for his aptitude at picking out the rarest of game. Your father always told you that if there was anything resembling an afterlife, he would spend it all eating whatever your uncle brought home, and you had no doubt that he would be delighted to return from his trip and find a freshly-slain stag waiting for him.

In order to reach the river, you had to ride through endless swathes of green — some were tilled and tended, but the majority of those fields were wild, home to nothing but rabbits and robins, both of whom fled upon hearing the clip of your horses’ hoofbeats. At first the cleared paths were wide enough for you and your uncle to ride side by side, but eventually they grew narrower, the tall grass scratching at your legs, pollen leaving yellow streaks on your horses’ haunches, and so you were forced to ride in front, for your mare was as sure-footed as your uncle’s charger was flighty and spooky.

“Be careful,” your uncle said as you pushed her forward, kicking her when she pinned her ears at your uncle’s stallion. “The grounds in these fields are always treacherous. Snakes make their homes amongst the grasses and hide the entrances; even one misplaced footfall can be disastrous.”

“Ah, she is good,” you said. “I trust her to know where her feet are better than I would.”

“Smart girl,” your uncle said. “You must get it from your uncle.”

You swatted away a horsefly before it could land on your leg. It was gray and fat and lazy, but you knew that its bite burnt like a bee-sting, so you steered your horse away from it the slightest bit, in the hopes that it would dissuade any further pursuit.

“Of course,” you said. “Though more than smart, I trust that my father’s men have trained her well, in these very fields.”

“Do they come here often, then?” he said. “We won’t be able to find anything if there are many people passing by.”

“Not that I know of. This section of the riverbank is reserved for our family’s use. Nobody would dare come up this way unless they were on my father’s orders, and my father rarely issues such commands,” you said.

“Good,” your uncle said, relaxing in his saddle, taking his bow off of his shoulder and holding an arrow in his right hand. “If we are very quiet, then we may find something today.”

“So soon?” you said.

“Why not?” he said. “We must be silent, however, lest we frighten everything in a few leagues’ radius away.”

Soon, the only thing that could be heard was the whine of the crickets in the grass that your horses disturbed. It was a high sound, shrill and thin like a flute, insistent in the way of begging, and if your uncle had not been there, you would’ve covered your ears to muffle it.

You couldn’t tell how long you wandered along the riverbanks for, but eventually, there was a faint rustling in the brush. You and your uncle locked eyes, and then you reined your mare to a stop, allowing him to trot forwards, eyes locked on the place where the noise had arisen from, his bow held at the ready, a single arrow in place — because a single arrow was all he would need. Your uncle had never once let fly an arrow which did not then make a home in its target, and you doubted he would begin to do so any time soon.

Another minute passed before the rustling grew louder and something burst from the copse of saplings, crashing through the tightly interwoven branches. You gasped when you saw that it was not a deer or any other such game but a boy, his hair dark and long over his eyes, his shoulders narrow and bony, more like perfect, sickening corners with skin draped over them than anything.

“Please,” he said, dropping to his knees, gazing up at you, his pupils like black pinpricks in the expanse of his blank eyes. “I didn’t — I didn’t mean to! I wasn’t — I got lost, but I didn’t mean to end up here! I was only waiting for you to pass through so that I could return home.”

“So you knew that what you were doing was wrong. Expressly forbidden by the prince,” your uncle said. 

“Uncle, it was clearly a mistake,” you said uneasily. 

“Mistakes are made when one does not have knowledge,” your uncle said. “This was not a mistake, nor was it an accident.”

“I was looking for rabbits,” the boy pleaded. “My sister likes them.”

“So you were hunting on the prince’s land?” your uncle said.

“No!” the boy said. “No, she — we don’t eat them, she likes to pet them, she’s still young and our mother is sick so I thought I would find one for her but there aren’t any near our house, so I began to wander, and I don’t know how but I ended up here — please, I didn’t mean to! I didn’t!”

“It’s alright,” you said, loosening your foot from your right stirrup and preparing to dismount. “Where is your home? We can escort you—”

“Stay on your horse,” your uncle said to you. You froze, unaccustomed to hearing him speak in such a way. “You. Boy. You admit your guilt? You have trespassed?”

“Yes — no — I don’t—” the boy stammered. His lips were bluing at the edges, you saw, and you realized he, and likely his mother who he had spoken of, was cursed with the plague, which choked his mind and judgment as well as it did his throat and heart.

“He is unwell, uncle,” you said quietly. “Let him go home.”

The boy was not long for this world, and wasting the precious time he had remaining with this pointless interrogation caused a pit to form in your stomach and a glacial feeling to crawl down your back and shoulders, the kind which could not be chased away even by the strongest of fires.

“Crimes cannot go unpunished,” your uncle said. “If we let him go, then we will have to let the next go, and the next after that. Where do you draw the line?”

“Here,” you said. “That is where I draw it. We both know that he is closer to my mother than to us at this point. Forgive him this time. He will not return, I am sure of it.”

“I won’t,” the boy said, voice cracking. “Your royal highnesses, I won’t.”

“Tell me where you live,” you said. “Not far, surely?”

“Just over the hill,” the boy said, staggering to his feet. “The house with the hyacinths in front of it.”

“I will take you there,” you promised him.

“You will do no such thing,” your uncle said. “Y/N L/N. If you ever wish to be the lady of an estate, then you must learn how to punish those who disobey your rule.”

“Don’t!” you said, but you were too late, far too late. Already, the arrow was cutting through the air and piercing through the boy’s heart. He fell in the way a leaf might, silent and crumpling and brittle, a motionless heap staining the earth with his blood. You screamed, or at least you tried to, but there was not enough air in your lungs, and you could not inhale or exhale without the ringing in your ears climbing into a pounding sensation.

“Where are you going?” your uncle said as you tugged on your mare’s left rein, turning her around, away from the still body and your uncle’s stark figure. “Y/N! Wait!”

Tightening your calves, you cued her into a gallop, taking off along the riverbank, water spraying into the air wherever her feet fell. Dimly you were aware of your uncle shouting after you, and then he, too, was galloping in your pursuit, but his stallion was recalcitrant, rearing and gnashing at the bit with every step, slowing their progress immensely and allowing you to fly out of their sight.

Turning into the fields that swept towards the manor, you paid no heed to your uncle’s earlier warnings, pushing the horse faster instead of slowing as you should’ve, your surroundings blurring into nothing more than smears of viridian and mustard in your peripheral vision. You had to reach him before your uncle did. You had to, you had to, you had to —

Abruptly, your horse skidded to a stop, scrambling for purchase in the ground and snorting nervously. You were thrown up her neck but did not fall, sitting back and scanning the area for what might’ve spooked her. In the beginning you did not see it, but then there was a soft hiss from the ground that caused her to dance backwards uncertainly, and you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood.

“You are meant to be gone,” you said to the viper, which was baring its fangs at you, its dark tongue flicking out periodically to taste the air before it. Your words bordered on hysterical as you shifted in your saddle, eyeing its coiling body with equal parts fear and disdain. “Your kind vanished! Why are you back? Do you mean to torment me?” 

The serpent did not move to strike, but neither did it shift out of the way, its slit-pupil eyes never blinking, its white teeth like pearls against the roof of its black mouth. You looked around, but there was no other path as clearly demarcated as the one you were on, and you dared not risk going into the grasses where thousands more of the snake’s brethren could be lying in wait.

Behind you, you could once more hear your uncle calling your name, and you knew that the precious few seconds you had gained on him would come to naught if you continued to dither about. When all was said and done, there was only one thing you could do, so apologizing to your horse, you squeezed her onwards. She lurched forwards with a start, her tail swishing, her movements jerky as she inched towards the snake, which grew eerily still at your approach.

Death was supposed to be a mystery or a surprise, but for some reason, as your horse took that final step forwards, you were excruciatingly aware that the next few moments would likely be your last. The snake would dart up, as quick as a whip, and it would latch onto your leg, slaying you instantaneously. What a swift revenge it would be, that your uncle had killed that boy and now he would be met with your own body, pierced through with snake venom as that child had been skewered upon his arrow!

You could’ve done a great number of things in those final seconds, but your mother’s final words came to you, and you found yourself mulling them over. He is here, she had said. Right in front of you. Don’t you see him? He is so beautiful. As beautiful as the paintings. Michael himself had appeared for her, but then who was by your side? Who would accompany you after your death? 

There was a flash of movement in the corner of your eye, something azure and fluttering — a butterfly, surely, or some small bird frightened by the commotion. It was unimportant in the end; what mattered most was the color, which was so reminiscent of the person you had set out for that it broke you from your daze, heartening you enough to sit up and raise your chin, facing the snake with enough courage that even your horse ceased to shy away from it. Instead, she let out a squeal which sounded like a trumpet, and then she leapt into the air, bucking upon the landing and galloping away from the viper at such a speed that white lather frothed on her neck and streaked down her shoulders.

You reached the chapel in a time that should not have been possible, and even before you had pulled the mare to a stop, you were leaping off, your fingers clumsy as you tied her to the first fence post you saw. Your legs protested as you took the stairs two at a time, but you paid them no heed. You could not allow them to fail you, not when your uncle’s strides were twice the length of yours.

“Kaiser!” you called out when you entered the chapel. He was standing by the altar, a shower of sparks falling from the flint in his hands onto the charred cloth placed on the table, and instead of greeting you, he blew on the smoldering edge. A flame blossomed to life, and he used it to light a new candle, smothering the cloth under his boot once the fire had been transferred. “Kaiser, you must leave at once.”

“Why should I do that?” he said. “Who are you to dismiss in such a way?”

“It’s not me,” you said. “My uncle is furious, and if he finds you — if he finds you here, then he’ll cut you down, and not even that sword of yours will be enough to stop him.”

“Your uncle and his moods have little to do with me,” Kaiser said. “His tantrums are meaningless.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” you said. 

“Don’t I?” he said.

“He just killed a boy for trespassing,” you said. “I couldn’t even stop him. It was the most I could do to return in time to warn you before he came here to pray for that child’s life.”

“You disobeyed your uncle and ran from him for the sole purpose of…warning me?” he said.

“Yes, but it will be meaningless if you don’t hearken to my words,” you said. 

“Why is that?” he said.

“Enough with your riddles and your questions!” you snapped. “Are you incapable of taking anything seriously? You will die!”

“Answer this one and I’ll oblige your inane demands,” he said.

“Being with you is the only time I do not fear or mourn,” you said, your nails carving crescents into your palms as your gaze switched rapidly between him and the door. “My mother…my family…the plague and the vipers and the floods…I can forget about them all when I speak to you. If you are gone, then I will have no one. So please, please run. I cannot bear the thought of your blood being shed as well.”

Kaiser looked at you, and then, inexplicably, he laughed. It was a sound so lovely that it grated on your nerves, like a bell ringing too close to your ears. “Your uncle is not a man who could ever shed my blood, and he’d have to have an inordinately high opinion of himself to think he could.”

“You said you would oblige me,” you said, having half-expected such an arrogant response from him but finding that you were vexed by it anyways. “It doesn’t matter what you think of him. You must go, and only return once he has left this place.”

The door slammed open. You spun, drawing your cloak tighter around your shoulders and standing as straight as you could, dismay spiking in your stomach when your uncle walked in. The two of you had spent too long discussing, your explanation had been too lengthy, you had remained frightened of the snake for more time than you should’ve — at the end of the day, the reason didn’t matter as much as the result, which was that your uncle was here and Kaiser was still standing behind you.

“Y/N,” your uncle said, coming down the aisle, his stride light and elegant, the picture of a gentleman. You took a step back, reaching your hand out behind you to prevent Kaiser from saying something callous and damning, as he was wont to do.

“It’s not what you think,” you said. “Uncle, it’s not — please don’t —”

Yet when your uncle reached the altar, he did not draw his sword, nor did he command Kaiser to kneel before him. He only gave you a puzzled look, directing his attention to the candles burning behind your back.

“You played with your life just to come and light the candles a little earlier?” he said.

“What?” you said. 

“I know it must’ve been upsetting to see, but rules need to be upheld, or else they cease to be rules and turn into mere suggestions,” your uncle said, patting you on the head. 

“Aren’t you angry?” you said in trepidation.

“With you? No, of course not,” he said. “It was the same way for me, the first time I witnessed my father performing an execution. You’ll grow out of it.”

“Er, okay,” you said, too bewildered now to even comprehend his words. What was Kaiser’s magic, that he had escaped your uncle’s stern reproach and careless sword, which had felled countless men?

“Will you stay with me while I pray?” your uncle said. It was the only time he ever changed his mind about religion — after every life he took, he pleaded for forgiveness, as if that could be enough to exonerate him. You weren’t sure if it would be or not, but it didn’t really matter what you thought — it was the only way he had, you were quite sure, to go on. To continue living despite everything he had done.

“No,” you said. “Come — ah, what?”

You had turned to beckon Kaiser, but when you did, you realized that he was gone, vanished without a trace, though you had not heard or seen him leave. Your uncle gave you another strange look before returning to one of the benches and bowing his head, leaving you to wonder if Kaiser had ever even been there in the first place.

The stablehands were confused when you brought your drained mare back to them and demanded they ready another horse for you, and it was only worsened when you commanded them to also bring you one of the rabbits that were raised for their meat. Yet they could not argue with the princess, so they did as you said, bringing you the smallest of your father’s mounts and placing a young rabbit in your arms once you were in the saddle.

You could not tell whether you or the rabbit quivered more — the rabbit from confusion and fear, you from fatigue and the temperature, which had dropped rapidly since you and your uncle had set out in the mid-morning.

Taking a longer route so that you avoided the fields where you had seen the serpent, you trotted towards the riverbank, cradling the rabbit to your heart in the hopes that its warmth would transfer to you. Halting by where the boy’s body still lay, undisturbed and almost peaceful, you set the rabbit atop a tree branch so that it could not escape, and then you jumped off of your horse and crouched so that you could lift the boy onto your saddle. Draping him over it with every bit of strength you could summon, you took the rabbit back in one arm and used the other to lead the horse after you as you trudged towards the direction of the village, mud soaking into your boots and flecking the hems of your clothing.

You crossed the hill at a snail’s pace until you reached a small stone house with purple hyacinths littering the courtyard and a brown goat grazing on the scrubby grass, and then you knocked on the door and stood there until a man opened it. He was tall, his face lined and burnt from the sun, trenches like crow-feet digging into the corner of his eyes, his clothes patched and mended by inexperienced hands many times over. He squinted at you, like he was trying to recognize you, but eventually he gave up and cocked his head at you instead.

“On what business have you come knocking, miss?” he said.

“Your son,” you said. He rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Ah, that rascal. I hope he was not bothering you?” he said. You tried to swallow back the lump in your throat and found that it was impossible, so you stroked the ears of the rabbit and squeezed out a response anyways.

“He’s dead,” you said. “No. He was killed.”

“Pardon?” the man said. “Killed? On what — on what account?”

“On a whim,” you said, a tear splashing onto the rabbit’s back, turning the gray of its fur into a color like tar. “If there were a better explanation, I’d give it to you, sir, but the truth is there isn’t one.”

The man stared at you in disbelief, and you tightened your grip on the horse’s reins, waiting for him to say something. Yet he was silent, staring and staring as if by doing so he could turn your words to lies.

“I brought him back for you,” you whispered, the words digging into your windpipe as they went. “I brought him back.”

The man made a small nose which seemed to come from deep within him, guttural and low and keening, and then he fell to the floor.

“Please say it isn’t so,” he wept, pressing his forehead to your feet. “Lady, lady, say this is some cruel prank and go. His mother is sick already; you cannot say I will lose them both in such short succession. Say you are lying to me.”

“I can’t,” you said, your lower lip wobbling and your vision blurring. “Sir, I cannot do that.��

He wrapped his arms around your ankles and bawled like a child, folded over your boots as he cried and cried. You were motionless, wishing that there was something you could do but knowing that it would all be meaningless — just like Kaiser could not bring your mother back, so, too, were you incapable of resurrecting this man’s son, who had been put down at the hands of your own uncle.

“Thank you,” he said after some time had passed, standing and wiping his face, taking your horse’s reins from you. “I will see to it that he is taken care of. Might I have your name? So that I can repay you?”

“No repayment is necessary,” you said. “Please refrain; I’ve done nothing worthy of repayment. I only ask that you tell me if you have a daughter.”

“Yes,” the man sniffed. “Yes, she’s inside, sitting with her mother. Do you require her?”

“Only to give her a gift,” you said. “And then I shall take your leave.”

The man nodded at you, and you swept inside, brushing past him before he could exit the house and relive his grief anew upon seeing his son’s body in the flesh. You had been there the first time; the second time, you thought, should be something private, belonging to him and him alone.

Sitting by a fire and covered in straw was the wretched woman that could only be the boy’s mother. She appeared worse than your own mother ever had, even in the hours before her death, and her chest rattled with every breath. Squatted by her side was a girl, likely half your age and hardly even a third of your weight, her hair lank and heavy around her shoulders, her cheeks flushed a pink that promised the plague had not clawed into her body yet.

“Hello,” you said. The mother did not move, but the girl looked up at you in a manner reminiscent of a puppy or a foal, a certain naïveté to her features, which resembled her brother’s so much that for a moment you were breathless.

“Hello,” she said. Her voice was a brittle murmur, and her lips barely moved when she spoke, but her eyes shimmered with a slight curiosity, widening when you knelt before her. “Who are you?”

“Your brother sent this for you,” you said, avoiding her question and handing the rabbit to her. She inhaled in delight, taking it from you swiftly and burying her nose in the fur around its neck before beaming at you.

“Really, he did? He always called me foolish when I told him I wanted a rabbit! Said that rabbits are wild creatures and only fairies can catch them,” she said, kissing the rabbit atop its ears. “Are you a fairy, miss? You have to be, right?”

“Certainly, I am not,” you said, kneeling on the stone of the floor and placing your hand against her cheek, which burned with the heat of the fire she was tending. “Dear girl, please remember that it was not a fairy who brought this rabbit to you — it was your brother, who loves you more than anything.”

She still did not know about any of it. She did not know that her brother was dead and her mother was all but. She only saw the object of her desires encircled in her arms, so she was, at least for now, happy, and you could not bear to steal that happiness from her, not when you knew that you how fleeting it was.

“Okay,” she said gravely. “I’ll remember it well. Mama, look! It’s a rabbit. You like rabbits, Mama, so please wake up and look at it.”

“Your mother is resting,” you said when she bent to shake her mother awake. “You should not bother her.”

“She’s always resting,” the girl said. “And if she speaks, it’s only to say that she’s cold.”

“Is that what the straw is for?” you said. Even if she wasn’t sick, you’d have agreed with the woman; you, too, found it to be growing colder out than it ever had in the past, but she had been cursed with the plague, and so it must have been tenfold worse for her than it ever could be for you. 

“Yes, it’s the best we have,” she said. “My brother, father, and I share the blanket because we don’t sleep near the fire, and so we only have straw left to warm her. I think I’m going to start working soon as well, and hopefully then I’ll be able to buy the best blanket in the world for her.”

There would be nowhere that would hire her in time for her to give her mother a blanket, except as a burial shroud, so you undid the clasp of your cloak and draped it over the woman’s body. She did not acknowledge you, but you saw her shoulders fall into an exhale, and you knew it was her form of thanks. The girl gazed at you in wonder, her eyes settling on the gooseflesh which pimpled your upper arms without the protection of the cloak, and then she returned her attention to her mother, whose expression was a degree less distraught with the added shield you had provided.

“Not now, and not for some years to come, but when you are old enough, come to the L/N manor,” you said. “You will find work there.”

Outside of the house, her father was digging, and on the ground beside him was a heap of canvas that no doubt disguised her brother. The girl followed you towards your horse, lips pursuing as you used a nearby tree stump to remount.

“How? It’s impossible to be employed there. All my family’s tried, but they’re ever-full,” she said.

“They will admit you, as long as you bring that cloak with you,” you said. “And if you tell them that Princess Y/N sent you.”

Her lips parted in awe, and the rabbit’s nose twitched as you smiled at her, as kindly as you could. In a few hours, she might despise you — after all, you had been the one to bring her brother back, and even if she never learnt of the role you had played in his death, she might resent you for that fact alone — but for now, you were someone she admired, the princess who had come from the manor and left her with a cloak and a rabbit and a promise.

Without your cloak, it was brutally cold, and you soon grew more preoccupied with trying to warm yourself in some way than with guiding the horse home. And although it was tamer than the rest, your current mount still belonged to your father in the end — it was not of the same reliable temperament as your own mare, who would’ve doggedly brought you back to the stables. As you slumped further and further into the saddle, your vision swimming, the horse only halted in the middle of the field you had somehow ended up in, unsure of what to do without a rider’s direction.

“You are a surprising person, Y/N L/N,” a soft voice said, and then someone was prying the reins out of your hands and taking them over your horse’s head. You would’ve been frightened, but though your eyesight was blurred, you knew who it was as soon as he spoke. “Foolish and surprising in turn.”

“Kaiser,” you said. “How are you here? Where did you go earlier? I thought my uncle might find you, but you weren’t there…”

“Don’t concern yourself with such trivial matters. They are beyond your understanding,” he said, clicking his tongue to encourage the horse forward. “I came here for you because earlier, you came for me, no matter how unnecessary it may have been. That’s all that matters.”

“Aren’t you cold?” you said, leaning forwards, collapsing against the horse’s crest, too tired to hold yourself up properly. “I’m cold.”

“I know,” he said. “You’ve been cold for a while, haven’t you?”

“I suppose so,” you said. For a moment, there was silence, and when he finally spoke again, his tone was tinged with melancholy.

“I wish that you were more like your father,” he said.

“Hm,” you said drowsily. “Why?”

“I want to condemn you,” he said. “Curse you. Rebuke you. Damn you.”

“And you cannot?” you said.

“I can,” he said. “All too easily.”

“Then?” you said.

“Then nothing,” he said. “It’s only that it makes me feel strange when it shouldn’t.”

“Strange,” you said. “What a vague word.”

“I cannot explain it further,” he said. “So don’t ask me to.”

“I see,” you said, though really you didn’t — you only did not want to upset him when he was the only savior you had. “Wait, Kaiser, you must know — there is a viper, one of the ones from the flood, it’s in the fields and it might yet strike. I am not sure if it is the only one of its kind, as well.”

“No vipers will dare cross my path,” he said, a laugh trickling into the cadence of his speech. “Not while I have this sword at my side.”

“Even now, you have it?” you said, your eyes closed against the light. 

“Yes,” he said. “I cannot sheathe it yet.”

“What does that mean?” you said.

“It is meaningless,” he said. “You ought to be silent, lest you waste what meager amounts of energy your body has managed to retain thus far.”

You weren’t sure how much longer the two of you walked for, but suddenly you were by the stables and there was a clamor and you were falling off the horse’s shoulder, into the arms of one of the stablehands. He was speaking in a panicked rush, commanding someone to fetch your uncle and another to send word to your father before asking you something, his voice harsh and breathy, nothing at all like Kaiser’s needle-precise words. You would’ve answered, but the slight rocking motions of his gait were enough to lull you into a sleep before you could even understand what his question was in the first place.

The stablehand must’ve carried you to your room, for when you awoke, you were in your bed and the sun had set. Your father sat at your desk, a lamp lighting the letters he was writing. Wrinkling your nose and then wiggling your fingers and toes to regain some feeling in them, you yawned, sitting up with a rustle of the sheets.

“Father,” you said, your mouth cottony from sleep. “You’ve returned?”

“Y/N?” your father said, dropping his quill and jumping to his feet, racing over to your side and catching your hand in between his own, holding it to his forehead. “Oh, Y/N, you must swear never to do something so idiotic again. I was so frightened — I thought — I thought you might never wake again.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Why would you go riding without dressing for the weather?” he said. “And without at least asking for someone to accompany you?”

“I’m sorry, father. I wasn’t thinking,” you said again, because you knew without a shadow of a doubt that you could not tell him the truth behind your escapade, or he might find some way to penalize the family who had not been at fault and had already lost so much.

“You’re lucky that that horse was so intelligent,” he said.

“What do you mean?” you said.

“It managed to find its way back to the stables even with you all but unconscious on its back,” he said.

“No, someone led me home,” you said. “A servant.”

Your father furrowed his brow. “Ah, what do you mean? There was no one.”

“There was, I’m sure of it!” you said.

“Nobody saw anyone leading you back, daughter,” he said. “You must’ve been having visions from delirium. It’s not uncommon for those who have been so compromised.”

“Visions,” you said. “I suppose there is that explanation.”

“Setting that aside, how do you feel now?” he said.

“Much improved,” you said.

“A night’s rest will do you well,” he said. “We can speak again in the morning, yes?”

“Yes, that sounds appealing,” you said. “Goodnight, father.”

Oftentimes he, like the rest of his siblings, had a somber and unyielding expression upon his angular face, but never when he looked at you — because when he laid eyes upon you, he was no longer the prince of the kingdom. He was only your father, the man who had half-created you and loved you more than he had ever loved anything or anyone, excepting, of course, your mother.

Maybe it was because you had slept half of the day away, but the next morning, you were awake even before the sun. You lay in your bed for a moment, willing sleep to take you once more, but when it became evident that it had fled from your grasp for good, you pushed your blankets to the side and stood on shaky legs, finding comfort in the consistency of readying yourself for the day.

You had none of your usual composure when you entered the chapel. The moment you saw Kaiser standing with his hands laced together and his face tilted towards the sun, your heart skipped an irrational beat, and then you picked your way towards where he stood, careful not to slip on the precious stones of the floor, which today seemed to be more treacherous than usual.

When you reached his side, you were not sure of what to say, so you opted for the truth, however blunt. “I dreamt of you yesterday.”

“I’m flattered,” he said, in that same amused way he said everything, his every word a private joke you could never be in on. 

“You saved me,” you continued. “If it hadn’t been for you, I would’ve died.”

“You wouldn’t have died regardless,” he said dismissively. At first, you raised your eyebrows, because how was it that he always said such things with such conviction that you could not help but believe in them? Who was he to inspire such faith in you? Then, before you could lose your nerve, you embraced him, your arms around his neck and fingers dangling in the space between his shoulder blades, his thrumming heartbeat reverberating through your bones like a hymn.

Many seconds passed wherein he was motionless, a being made from stone, before, slowly, hesitantly, he pulled you even closer to him, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other arm wrapping around your waist so that you did not crumble. He was hot like a hearth, his skin blazing with the kind of warmth you had not felt in so long that tears sprang to your eyes.

“You saved me,” you insisted, weeping in earnest, wishing that there was some way you could stay by his side forever and then wondering where such a desire could even have sprung from. “Even if you were only a vision conjured by my mind, I know that I would never have made it home were it anyone else I saw. Had it been anyone but you, I would’ve been lost until the end.”

“Enough wailing,” he said, but it was devoid of the typical thorniness. “Y/N L/N. Stop it.”

“I cannot,��� you said. 

“Pathetic girl,” he said; however, for the first time, you detected a hint of wavering in his voice. “Pathetic, idiotic girl. If only there were a way I could un-know you. If only it were possible for me to forget you entirely.”

“Don’t,” you said. “Please don’t.”

“I won’t,” he said. “If I were capable of it, I would’ve done so long ago, but as I haven’t, it can only mean that I never will.”

Somehow, you returned to the manor before anyone could raise an alarm at your second disappearance. Joining your father and uncle at the table for breakfast, avoiding your uncle’s greeting and sitting next to your father, you realized that it was not a miracle that you had escaped notice; rather, it was that everyone was supremely concerned with the letter your father was scanning, storms swirling in his eyes as he read it over.

“They’re summoning us,” he said, a second later. “Oh, Y/N, you’re here. Good.”

“Who is?” you said.

“My brother the king,” he said. “There’s been a prophecy. Very soon — in two weeks or even less — the queen will be dead.”

All of you set off at once, your father and uncle riding ahead, leaving you to cocoon yourself in a nest of furs atop the cushioned bench of the carriage. The guard from before, the handsome one with the hair like fox-hide, was requisitioned to accompany you, and so he sat across from you instead of riding in the company of your father and his retainers. You were the one who had asked for him specifically; he was kind and familiar to you, so in such a terrifying moment, you preferred his stalwart nature to any other’s.

“Tell me again,” you said, your voice muffled by the squirrel pelt wrapped around your neck and chin. “What did that prophet see?”

The guard did not know any more than you did, but in the monotony of the carriage ride, there were few other things you could occupy yourself with besides the obsessive question-and-answer game that you played with him. He was happy to follow along, or, if he was not happy, then at least he did as you asked without much complaint.

“Three things,” the guard said, holding up his right hand, the white calluses standing out against the pink of his palms. “Firstly, an eagle fell from its nest and broke its wings.”

“A clear omen against the L/Ns,” you said. “Eagles represent royalty, so for one to fall and lose its ability to fly in such a way…”

“Yes,” the guard agreed. “Secondly, upon reading the entrails of a sow, it was determined that the eagle was referencing a woman in particular.”

“And if it is a woman, then it could only be the queen,” you said.

“Correct, your highness,” he said. He could not see it, but you smiled at him — just barely, for you had not had enough to drink during your journey, so your lips were cracking from dehydration, and you did not rest well anymore, so you were constantly weary. “And finally, they consulted the mirrors, whereupon they saw death from disease tarnishing the pureness of the silver.”

“So they combined the symbols and divined that she would perish from the illness which has plagued her, as it once did my mother,” you said. “I wonder if it is worse or better to be aware that your death is approaching.”

“I suppose she must have known already, don’t you think?” he said. “In the moments before her death, your mother saw the angel Michael. I am sure the queen has had such a visitor as well.”

“Perhaps,” you said. “Though then again, I doubt that he would make appearances so frequently.”

“If he came to escort your mother, then would he not come for the queen? Forgive me for being candid, but it’s true that the queen’s station is far loftier than mother’s was,” he said.

“It’s alright. You’re not wrong, but even then,” you said, and then you sighed, sinking deeper into the plushness of your blankets. “Well, I don’t know. The affairs of angels are beyond you and I.”

“That’s true,” he said. You screwed your eyes shut, colorful spots painting the blackness behind your eyelids, the world spinning peculiarly, in a manner which was unrelated to the swaying of the carriage wheels.

“I think I will sleep now, sir,” you said. “If you do not mind very much.”

“I am only here to do as you command, your highness,” he said. “If you wish to sleep, then by all means, please sleep. I will wake you if anything happens.”

The journey to the castle was longer for you than it was for the riders, who could take narrower paths and cut across fallen trees and flooded bridges that the carriage needed to circumvent. By the time you reached, there was already a procession underway, and as the guard helped you towards the church, holding onto your hand and shoulders so that you could walk, you had to be wary of the spectators to the parade, who were shoving one another so that they could have the best possible view.

“They’re praying. For the queen’s health, and for the end of the plague,” you said, coughing hard enough that your chest ached from it, covering your mouth with your hand in shame, for you had been coughing more and more frequently as of late.

When you removed your hand, you noticed that there was something wet and wine-colored speckling it, and right when you were about to reach an understanding you should’ve come to long ago, a man’s shoulder rammed into your side, knocking you off-balance. Only your guard’s quick reflexes were enough to catch you, and he picked you up before such an accident could be repeated, taking care to push the man away rougher than he really needed to when he passed.

“Are you alright?” he said.

“Yes,” you said, half in a daze, the image of your stained hand imprinted in your mind. “Can you hear what they are saying, sir? Are they begging for forgiveness?”

“They are,” he said. “They’re repenting in the hopes that there will be mercy.”

“It’s late for that,” you said. “For me, anyways. But maybe the rest of you can still be saved.”

“What do you mean by that?” he said. Without you to slow the guard down, the two of you covered ground at twice the earlier speed, and you reached the steps of the church before the throngs of worshippers could. You saw them coming, the gathered masses of people, with the king and your father and the queen at the forefront of it all, and then you coughed again, because until you had seen that blood you hadn’t comprehended it, but now you did. “Why don’t you include yourself amongst our ranks, princess?”

“What is your name, sir?” you said.

“Kunigami, your royal highness,” he said. “Are you quite alright?”

“Kunigami,” you said, clenching the fabric of his tunic in your fists. “Kunigami, it’s not cold out today, is it?”

“No,” he said. “No, princess, it’s not. It’s mild and lovely.”

“It hasn’t been,” you said, and then you were crying, because you were afraid. You were more afraid then you ever had been, and you only had this bewildered boy to comfort you — and what slim comfort he provided! He, who was meant to be your staunchest defender but could never defend you from this. “It hasn’t been cold in many months, has it?”

“No,” he said. “Actually, it’s been rather warm. This year marks the warmest summer we’ve had since the time of the last king, or so I’m told.”

“The warmest summer?” you said. “I see now. I see. Oh, oh, Kunigami, you must go and fetch my father at once.”

“You are confounding me, your highness,” he said. “What is the matter?”

“Please bring my father,” you said. “Please, I don’t — I don’t want to be alone when it happens.”

Your poor father — some higher power had decided he deserved this. Your father, who was cruel, who killed and conquered, who was the horrible prince of the kingdom. Your father, who had already lost your mother. Your father, who would soon lose you.

“I don’t understand even now what you mean,” Kunigami said, setting you on the steps and straightening his shirt. “But I will do as you say. Wait here.”

He charged down the stairs, cutting through the crowds effortlessly with his imposing presence. You watched him go before turning back to the church, marveling at the building, the white pillars and the silvery dome which shone in the sky like a daytime moon. Statues of angels and muses lined the roof, and across the facade, there were words engraved. You could hardly read them, but you knew by heart what was written: On this mountain, I shall build my home, and thereupon I will give you the keys with which to reach me.

You didn’t know when your legs buckled, but they must’ve, for suddenly you were lying prone on the stairs, the stone freezing against your face, and although it was hardly the place for it, you found your tucking your fists under your forehead, exhaling and thinking of how sublime it would be to drift off now, drift off and not wake up for many hours or days…

“Y/N L/N.” The voice was the same, but there was something else behind it. Never had he spoken with such strength and such sadness in combination; his typical apathy had been chased away entirely, replaced with a fond if not distant pity. “I told you that you would not be alone. Did I not?”

Hands like embers held your face carefully, thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he tugged your jaw up so that you could look at him. You hardly had the strength to lift your head — how had you not known that it was coming? How had you ignored the symptoms of your own condition? Was it that you did not want to know it and so you refused to recognize the simple fact which had been looming over you for months now? But ignoring it did not make it go away. Ignoring it did not make it false. Ignoring it did not change the truth of the matter: that you were dying, that you had been dying for a long time now.

“Kaiser,” you said. He appeared different, though you could not place it; there was something hazy and golden about him, but regardless you were assured that it was him and no other. 

“Some know me by that name,” he said. “Most do not.”

“What do you mean?” you said.

“Michael!” It was your father who was screaming the name, and when you shifted, you realized he was doing his best to run towards you, though your uncles held him back, shock reflecting in their faces as your father bawled. “Michael, divine lord, don’t take her, too. Anybody else, be it the queen, my brothers — even me! Kill me, kill the entire kingdom if you must, but leave Y/N. Spare her, and I will repent! I will change my ways, and I will force the others to change as well. Spare her and I will do whatever you ask — but please, please spare her.”

“You should’ve come to this conclusion longer ago,” Kaiser said, and though he spoke at a regular volume, his voice rang through the square like he had shouted. “The time for begging is long gone. The plague will continue until all of you are dead. By my sword, I swear—”

“Michael,” you said. He was silent immediately, and you fought to keep your eyes open. Noticing your lowering your eyelashes against the sun, he reflexively spread his wings to cover you in shade, allowing you to admire him in full for the first time. “Has it been you all along?”

“Yes,” he said, a soft breeze running through his feathers and ruffling his hair. “Yes, it has been.”

“My mother was right,” you said. “You really are as beautiful as the paintings. Though, you were right as well. There is nothing resembling serenity in your expression.”

To your surprise, he chuckled, though there was a distinct tinge of sorrow behind it, so that it was as similar to a sob as it was to a laugh. Something moist splashed onto your face, and at first you thought he, too, was crying, but then you realized it came from his sword, which he brandished even now. Blood, that was what it was, the source of those sanguine stains which were now animated and lively, weeping down the length of the blade and dripping onto the white marble beneath his feet.

“Of course there is not,” he said. “When there is so much injustice in this world, how can I ever be serene?”

“You brought this plague upon us,” you said. “And the snakes, and the flood.”

“I did,” he said. “It was divine will. In the face of it, even I am powerless.”

“By your sword,” you said. “Is that why you hold it before you always?”

“How intelligent you are,” he said. “Oh, if only it were not you.”

“But you can stop it,” you said. “If you deem us worthy of being saved, you can prevent anyone else from dying.”

“Not you,” he said. “It’s too late. Even if I do that, I cannot save you. Not this time.”

“That’s alright,” you said. “You needn’t save me again. Once was enough. I’ve not done anything to be deserving of a second time.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You are the only one who I want to save. If you are lost, then there is nobody worthy of surviving. What have any of the rest ever proved to me? What goodness have they ever shown? What virtue or introspection? They are all brutes, and so they have earned it.”

“I cannot say whether that is true or not,” you said. “I don’t know about anyone else. But if even one other person like me exists and your inaction kills them, too, then will you ever be forgiven?”

“I am an angel,” he said. “I seek no forgiveness. I have not done anything to necessitate it.”

“I will not forgive you,” you said. 

“What does it mean?” he said. “What will any of it mean once you are gone?”

Your father had fallen to ground, repeating every prayer he had ever been taught, and even your uncle the king, who was typically stolid in the face of adversity, who had not placed a foot wrong the entire time he had thought his wife was the one prophesied to die, had tears shimmering in his eyes.

“Forgive them,” you said, and then, to your surprise, Michael, or Kaiser, or whichever name you called him, for it was irrelevant when they were all in reference to this singularly grand being — was dropping to his knees and tenderly taking your head so that it could rest on his lap. “As I will forgive you, forgive them. Please.”

Nobody even breathed. Every single body in the kingdom was stationary; the rabbits, the dormice, the people and the snakes, all of them waited to see what he would do. For a moment, it was nothing, and after that he merely hunched over and pressed his lips to your temple, his wings arcing to cover your body from any who might dare to glance at it.

“Very well, then,” he said. “I cannot save you, Y/N L/N, so this time, without riddles nor fuss, I will oblige you.”

A small smile graced his face, albeit an anguished one more characteristic of men than of angels, and as one blazing hand grew hotter and hotter against your rapidly-cooling cheek, he raised his sword in the air; then, for the first time since the plague had begun, he sheathed it.

[dailynnt]

FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹ 📘 Number of part: 22/30

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words.

⊹ 👩🏼‍💻 From the author: My dearest friends, another part for all of you❤️‍🔥 How do you like this reconciliation? I hope you like it 🥺🥹🙏🏻 Let me know in the comments how you like the new part 👀 🤭

⊹ 🫂 Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you so much and LOVE you🥰💜

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou, @nikkinikj, @lovelyyylunaa222, @jiminiemanura, @jalexad, @kelsyx33, @bhonbhon, @unholyforjk, @ambiee3, @mianhae-baozi, @someoneelse0109, @medstudentlifestyle, @mskookie (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 22. Stop resisting. We are inevitable.

The days went by one after the other, but they all seemed like one terrible, unbearable day. They were all the same. You focused more on your work. You worked night shifts for a week, and day shifts and another week. You ate almost nothing, and your condition after breaking up with Jungkook was even worse than before. You thought it would be easier if you put an end to it and moved on. But no. Not having Jungkook in your life makes it unbearable.

Doohoon kept pressuring you and bothering you with his presence. After the incident in the car and his threats to show his "true face," you became even more cautious about him. Anxiety was present in you every time he appeared, even though he smiled at you with the most sincere smile he ever made. He assured you that he just wanted to be your friend, and that he didn't want to be romantically involved. He offered you to rely on him to make your feelings return to normal.

Of course, you didn't agree, but you didn't tell him openly. You kept Doohoon at arm's length, just like before, but your reaction to him was no longer so sharp. You became indifferent to him and eventually to everything around you.

Jungkook didn't show up after your conversation. He just disappeared, just like you wanted him to. But why does it hurt so much? It should be simple and easy for you that his criminal life won't have any impact on you. That this whole horrible, evil world doesn't apply to you.

You walked down the road to the campus. Study is about to start in a few weeks, so you try to come to the university library as often as possible to start working on your graduation project.

After your night shift at the store, you decide to go to a coffee shop to get some energy. It's right on your way, and the coffee here is much tastier than in the cafeteria on campus.

You go inside and are greeted by the pleasant aroma of coffee that envelops you from head to toe. The last week the weather has changed from snowy to rainy. The air temperature has risen, and because of this, it is now raining every day instead of snowing. It seems that the weather feels your condition and is ready to share the pain of a breakup and unrealized love with you.

The cafe is crowded and the quiet murmur of voices against the background of jazz music creates a particularly cozy atmosphere. It seems that it is early spring and not the middle of winter.

You go to the cash register, wanting to order a strong coffee to make you feel more alert. You look at the menu above the counter and hear a familiar voice.

This voice is soft, with high pitched notes, but with a bass that is characteristic of a man. Voice cheerful and pleasant, and it doesn't match the weather outside the windows of this cozy coffee shop. You catch a whiff of peach as the man you recognize as Jimin turns to leave.

Your eyes meet and you are overcome with a mixture of regret, shame, and guilt. Your last encounter with Jimin was unpleasant, even though he always treated you with care. He was Jungkook's best friend and you loved him the most out of all his friends.

The last time you saw Jimin, you called him a thug and refused to go to the hospital with him. You remember the disappointed laugh that came out of his mouth then. Your emotions were so strong at that moment that you didn't even think you could offend Jimin with such words. You don't know if he was really offended by you then, but his laughter seemed hysterical to you.

Jimin raises his eyebrows, clearly not expecting to see you today. He smiles broadly and almost instantly comes over to hug you. When you feel his embrace with the smell of peach, you relax.

"Y/N, what a meeting. Where else would I have met you?" - Jimin says as he lets go of you. You smile. It seems to be the first time in a very long time. Your lips are stretched and unusually tight. A smile has forgotten how to grace your lips.

"Hi." - You say quietly. Jimin acts as if nothing has happened. You're glad he didn't turn away from you.

"Please have a large cup of hot chocolate." - Jimin orders for you, because he knows you love it. "Are you in a hurry? Let's sit for twenty minutes." - Jimin suggests. You agree. The two of you walk over to an empty table by the window and sit down across from each other. Jimin, in a gentlemanly manner, helps you take off your outerwear and hangs it on a hanger near the table.

He takes off his black Saint Laurent coat, which emphasizes his elegance even on a rainy day. He is wearing a dark gray cashmere turtleneck and classic black pants. His clothes look expensive to emphasize his status. When he sits down and puts his hands on the table, his Rolexes sparkle in the light of the lamps.

He smiles at you, and you automatically do the same.

"You look tortured." - Jimin states, having studied you for just a moment. You look away and stare at the raindrops running down the glass.

"I'm fine." - You're lying. You seem more to yourself than to Jimin. "It's just that I'm working night shifts now, and I didn't sleep much today because I had to go to university." - You explain, and it sounds plausible even to you. Jimin takes a few sips of coffee from his paper cup, he wasn't going to sit in the cafe so he took it to go.

"So you went to university?" - He asks. "Where do you work?" - He asks you questions one after another. You hold your gaze on him and think he's pretending to be clueless. Jungkook has obviously told Jimin everything because they are best friends.

"At the convenience store." - You answer softly, to only one question.

"It sucks. There's probably a lot of vagrants there at night, right?" - Jimin is worried. You look at his expensive image and he doesn't fit in with the interior of this place at all. He shouldn't be worried about you, because you're basically a stranger to him. Even though you've known him for a long time. You realize that he's not the Jimin you saw in the first months of your friendship, but he looks a lot like him.

"No. There hasn't been a single one since I've been working there. It's a residential area, where mostly couples with children and old people live. That's why I work well there." - You say sincerely. Jimin smile again and brings you a large brown cup of hot chocolate garnished with marshmallows. You grimace a little, you don't like marshmallows, you didn't tell the waiter that. So you have to drink with whatever you have.

"I should have ordered you a double espresso, not a hot chocolate." - You hear Jimin's disappointed voice. You look up at him.

"It's okay. I actually wanted to have chocolate, I've been craving sweets lately." - You say with a smile. You are uncomfortable, and you want to find an opportunity to apologize to Jimin for what you said in the warehouse.

"You lack love, so you want sweets." - Jimin says playfully, but it doesn't elicit the reaction he expected. You look down at the cup and the smile falls from your lips.

"Maybe." - You say quietly. Jimin feels uncomfortable. He knows what you're thinking. He shouldn't have joked, you're obviously suffering right now. "What are you doing here, by the way?" - You change the subject so that Jimin doesn't develop the previous one.

"Oh. I have a meeting nearby. Besides, I love the coffee they serve here." - He replies amiably. You press your lips into a thin line and shake your head.

"I love their coffee, too. I stop here all the time on my way to campus." - You say. Your conversation is getting tense. It's mostly your fault.

"Jimin..." - You call out to him. He looks at you carefully.

"Yes, dear." - He replies. You bite your lip, preparing to apologize so that the atmosphere between you will soften.

"I'm sorry for what I called you at that day." - You slur your words. Jimin raises his eyebrows to see what you're talking about. He thinks for no more than a couple of seconds, and then raises his eyebrows.

"You were rude." - He says with a smile, realizing why you're apologizing. "You really think I'm..." - He leans across the table, closer to you, and whispers. "…a thug?" - You look up at Jimin's face, which is not that far from yours. He looks at you demandingly, but he has a playful smile on his face.

"No..." - You say quickly. But you think he's a bandit. So he is. "I mean... I wanted to say..." - You stammer. Jimin laughs out loud, and leans back, leaning against the back of the couch.

"Relax, Y/N. I'm joking. It's your right to call me what you think I am. Of course I'm were upset, but not because of what you called me, because it's basically true. I'm was more upsetter that you refused to come with me. I thought we friends." - He said more seriously. You couldn't look him in the eye while he was talking, but when he finished speaking and you heard what he said, you paid attention to him. Jimin takes a sip of coffee and looks at you carefully.

"I'm sorry. I was in a terrible state at the time. I heard terrible things about Jungko..." - You stammer as you almost say Jungkook's name. "...I was scared. That man told me about your methods, and I couldn't react to all of you any other way..." - You say, justifying yourself. Jimin is silent. You take a nervous deep breath. At that moment, Jimin's phone rings. You see the inscription "unknown number" upside down, as his phone was lying there in that way. Jimin nods apologetically and picks up the phone.

You take a sip of chocolate, warming your hands from the cup, and freeze when you hear Jungkook's voice on the other end of the line.

"Are you at the coffee shop?" - Jungkook asks Jimin in a serious voice.

"Yes." - Jimin answers looking at you. Your breathing quickens. And you realize that Jungkook is somewhere nearby. Did Jimin hold you up on purpose so you could see him, or was it a coincidence? "I'm at the far table. By the way, you have no idea who I met." - Jimin says with a smile. You feel panicked that you're about to see Jungkook. But it's too late to run away. You hear the door of the coffee shop open. You can hear the sound of the rain-soaked road under the wheels of cars.

Jungkook is standing in the doorway. He is wearing a black jacket and a hood. His eyes are almost invisible, but when he pulls the hood off his head, your eyes linger on each other. You can feel your insides pulling into a tight knot. Jungkook walks to your table without taking his eyes off you. Unlike him, you have long since turned away.

Jungkook takes off his clothes and throws his wet jacket on the hanger. He approaches the table and sees only you. Jimin's sly smile shines brighter than the lamps in the coffee shop. Jungkook will be indebted to him for this meeting and for he holding you back.

"Jungkook-ah. Hello. I'm here, I still exist." - Jimin jokes, you heard. However you only look at the cup of drink and are already planning your escape.

"Hi." - You hear above your head. Jungkook greets only you. Against the backdrop of your heartbeat, you can hear Jimin's laughter, surprised that Jungkook doesn't notice him.

You slowly look up and your heart skips a beat. No, not even two, because Jungkook is smiling slightly. He's so handsome. He looks so familiar. His hair is tousled because he wears a hoodie. He looks so sweet.

"Hi." - You say quietly. You expect Jungkook to sit down at the table next to Jimin, and you can quickly run away, pretending that Suyong is waiting for you at the university. But your mistake was that you sat by the window and the seat next to you was free. Jungkook sits down right next to you and thus blocks your ability to escape quickly.

The situation could not have been worse for you. Jungkook sits almost within touching distance. The sofas are not that big and his thigh is almost touching yours. He orders coffee from the waiter who has come to your table. The skinny guy takes the order and leaves.

You feel your hands shaking and try not to look at Jungkook. His presence affects you too much. The silence between you is so tense that it seems as if even the noise of the coffee shop has been silenced. Jimin is the first to break it.

"What a meeting, huh Jungkook?" - His voice is filled with amusement, but his gaze remains vigilant.

"Yeah." - He says, looking at you. There is an uneasy silence between you. Jimin clicks his tongue.

"My styling today is not going to hold up under the pressure of the tension like that’s, guys. What's going on?" - Jimin jokes and wants to know why you haven't made up yet.

"What are you talking about?" - Replies Jungkook without even looking at Jimin. His attention is completely focused on you.

"Why does our lovely friend look like she's about to run away?" - Jimin is enjoying the situation, and his sly smile only adds to your discomfort.

"I'm not running away!" - You say, but your voice gives you away. It sounds weak and trembles a little. Jungkook ignores Jimin's question and turns to you.

"I'm glad you didn't do it." - Jungkook says. You can't answer, just nervously clutch your hot chocolate cup. The waiter brings Jungkook's coffee, and you are grateful for the break in the tense silence. Jungkook takes the cup, takes a slow sip, and then, looking at Jimin, adds.

"So why did you call me here?" - Jungkook asks. You look up at Jimin and give him a disgruntled look, suspecting that he's arranged your meeting. But it's unlikely. Jimin didn't know he was going to meet you, and you've been sitting here for less than 10 minutes. Looks like he and Jungkook had arranged to meet here before Jimin meeting you.

Jimin finishes his coffee and leans hands on the table, crossing his fingers.

"Yoongi has a task for you." - Jimin says, and you're surprised that they're having a business conversation in front of you.

Jungkook's eyebrows raise, giving Jimin a half-surprised, half-annoyed look.

"Task?" - He asks dryly, as if trying to figure out why he sounds so... casual. His gaze quickly slides to you, checking your reaction.

You involuntarily straighten up, trying to hide your interest. Jimin, of course, notices this and just smiles his trademark playful smile.

"Don't worry, it's not such a secret if you know who we are." - He says, turning to you. "We trust you, Y/N. Well, at least I do."

Jungkook sighs, pausing, and then turns to Jimin with obvious irritation in his voice.

"Maybe you should tell me what the task is first. And why couldn't Yoongi have told me that himself?" - Jungkook asks indignantly. Jimin just shakes his head slightly, as if he's amused to see Jungkook getting annoyed.

"Yoongi is busy with more important things right now. He can't tell that over the phone, so he asked me to tell you in person. He said it's urgent and you should take care of it right away." - Jimin replies, leaning back on the back of the couch. You tense up, wondering why Jimin is acting like this. You look from one to the other in puzzlement, not understanding how anyone can talk about such things in the presence of a third party.

"And you thought the best place to say me about an errand was in a coffee shop?" - Jungkook says sarcastically, leaning forward. Jimin pretends not to hear his tone and continues calmly.

"You need to find a person. He's gone, and so is important information. You have to find he by the end of the day." - Jimin opens his phone and clicks something on it. A few seconds later, you and Jungkook hear his phone vibrate which lays on the table. You look at the screen of Jungkook's latest iPhone and see a photo of you on the screen saver. You can barely see your face, but you know it's your photo from social media. Your heart is sinking.

Jungkook notices your look and quickly picks up the phone.

"I sent you all the information you need." - Jimin says and stands up. "I'm going to the restroom." - He explains his action to you and walks away. You know for sure that Jimin gave you time to be alone. But you're nervous and don't know what to talk about with Jungkook. You look at the time on your phone and worry that Suyong is really waiting for you. Jungkook looks over at you, and something warm appears in his eyes.

"How you doing, baby?" - He asks. His velvety voice penetrates every cell in your body.

"I'm doing well." - You answer, not knowing what else to say. Jungkook looks at your face greedily. He notices the bags under your eyes and his heart sinks. He also notices that you have lost weight. But you don't look worse.

"You must eat well." - He says gently. You look at him. His gaze is more stern than his voice.

"I am eating well." - You say. You feel something cold melting in your chest. Seeing Jungkook after all this time was actually a relief.

"You can't fool me." - Jungkook says. He unconsciously reaches out and touches your face. You are frozen and cannot move. His warm hand makes you forget how to speak. "I miss you." - Jungkook confesses. He smiles sadly. "I want you to know that."

You try not to cry. You swallow nervously and clear your throat. Jungkook fixes a curl that has gotten on your face.

"Really?" - You ask, trying to keep your voice firm. "You missed me, but you haven't come for how long?" - You sound slightly reproachful. Jungkook hums.

"You don't want me around, do you? I gave you your personal space." - He says as if defending himself. You turn away, telling him not to touch you. You regret that you didn't express yourself correctly. Now it's clear to Jungkook that you've been waiting for him all this time. "Or did you want me to be more assertive?" - He asks you playfully. You look at Jungkook and raise your eyebrows to show your displeasure.

"No." - You say. "You don't need to be pushy. Because we decided it's better for us to be strangers." - Jungkook shakes his head as if mocking. His expression irritates you. Does he think he can behave like this towards you?

Jungkook stares at you for a long few seconds, and his smile grows even wider, but there's a subtle mixture of disappointment and sadness in his eyes. He leans back on the couch as if he's trying to give you some space, but he still keeps his eyes on you.

"Strangers?" - He repeats, his voice sounding slightly mocking. "An interesting concept for two people who don't seem to want to be strangers at all." - He says. You sigh as you feel his words breaking through your defenses. You realize that it's time for you to leave. And not just because Jungkook is pressuring you. You realize that it's better to leave than to continue this dialog. You grab your phone and stand up.

"Please let me out. I'm going to be late." - You say coldly. Jungkook stands up and takes half a step back. You move to leave the table and don't expect Jungkook to stop so quickly. You almost bump into his broad chest. You look up at him to ask him to leave and meet his serious gaze. He towers over you, making you feel like he takes up all the space around you.

"Baby, tell me right now. Do you want me? Do you want to be mine?" - Jungkook demands an answer from you. You're nervous about the way he's phrasing his questions. You look at each other. "If you say you want me, I'll do my best to make you happy with me." - You don't know what to say. Because the obvious answer is that you want Jungkook and you need him. But it's complicated. It's just like he said. You can't get back together because the circumstances say it's impossible.

"You know my conditions, Jungkook. Otherwise, our feelings are meaningless." - You answer, standing your ground. Jungkook curls his lips into a smile.

"Tell me." - He demands, leaning in close. Your breaths come faster. You don't move, trying not to give in to him.

"What do you want to hear?" - You ask rhetorically. Jungkook freezes a few centimeters away, hypnotizing your lips.

"Admit that you want me to come back. I know you love me. Then why are you resisting your feelings and mine?" - He asks. You resist because you want to live in peace. You want to be a normal person and not belong to the world of shadows.

"Go away." - You say firmly, without admitting it. Jungkook tilts his head slightly but doesn't move away.

"You have to give me an answer first, otherwise I'll take your silence as a positive answer." - Jungkook says. You give Jungkook a killer look. You admit that you want him, but in your mind. You are on fire from his closeness and his gaze on you.

You will never admit it to him. Because you think it's the right thing to do. But you decide to leave the door to your heart open for him. You put your hands on his chest and push him so that he takes a step back.

"I hope we won't see each other again." - You say casually, but with a clear challenge in your voice. You picked up your jacket, left the money for the chocolate on the table, and left the coffee shop, saying goodbye to Jimin as he returned from the restroom.

Jungkook sat down at the table, smiling. He got your hint. You won't be without his attention for long. Jungkook seemed to have a fire inside him. You will be his to forever very soon.

"What are you smiling about?" - Jimin asked as he sat down across from his best friend. "Did you finally make up?" - Jungkook notices Jimin when he said.

"Not yet." - He says, and he can't stop thinking about your expression and tone of voice.

"Then why are you so happy?" - Jimin asks curiously. Junguk doesn't answer and gets up from the table.

"See you later, hyung." - Jungkook says goodbye and leaves the coffee shop in a hurry.

It's been a busy day. You spent a lot of time in the campus library with Suyoung, working on your graduation project for the university. In the evening, you felt tired but satisfied with the work you had done. At about eight o'clock, you said goodbye to your friend, took the bus, and headed home.

As you approached your driveway, you saw a figure standing next to a familiar gray Volvo. A familiar face that made your shoulders tense - it was Doohoon. You walked closer. When he noticed you, he broke into a smile.

"You're not answering my calls again." - He said with a reproach that didn't interest you at all.

"I was busy. I didn't hear your calls. What are you doing here?" - You asked, trying to stay calm, although the irritation in your voice was still noticeable.

"I was waiting for you." - He replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I thought we could have dinner together." - He suggests. You try not to roll your eyes.

"I've already had dinner." - You say. "Besides, I'm tired..."

"You promised me yesterday that we would have dinner together tonight. And before that, you postponed your promise several times." - He reminds you. You tense up. You don't even remember what you promised him about dinner.

"Did I really do that?" - You ask, smiling slightly to make Doohoon soften.

"Yeah, candy." - He smiles back at you and it works. "But I'm a good friend. I understand that you're tired and want to rest."

"Right." - You say, agreed with his words.

"But it's not nice to deceive your friend like that. So..." - He continues. And you feel like you're getting tired of standing next to him. You smile and put up with him a little longer. "I'm giving you a choice: either we go to your place now and order a pizza. Or you're coming to dinner with me tomorrow, even if you've eaten ten times in one day." - You laugh nervously. To get him to leave you alone, you have to agree. And tomorrow you'll come up with another excuse.

"It's a deal. We'll have dinner tomorrow. I promise you for sure." - You say. Doohoon tilts his head. He holds out his pinky finger and asks you to seal your promise.

"You have to assure me that you won't lie to me again." - He says playfully. You reach out and grab his little finger.

"I promise." - You say shaking your hands.

"Then we have a deal." - Doohoon says, and he doesn't let go of your finger. You pull it out with all your might and smile nervously.

"Yes. See you tomorrow then." - You hint at him to leave. Doohoon squints his eyes. Then he finally gives in.

"I'll see you tomorrow, candy." - He says. Doohoon gets behind the wheel and leaves your yard. You watch him go and breathe a sigh of relief when his car disappears from your sight. You hurry back to your apartment and take a shower.

After the shower, you feel much better.

Your thoughts kept coming back to your meeting with Jungkook today. You were so excited to see him. But you'd better control your emotions so you don't let yourself feel the feelings you've been trying so hard to suppress.

You were about to go to bed and watch a drama when the doorbell suddenly rang. You froze. Who could be at your door at this late hour? Could it be your neighbors? The ringing repeated itself and you felt its insistence. Oh, no. Could it be Doohoon?

"Doohoon, really?" - You muttered under your breath as you quickly put on your robe. You strode resolutely to the door and threw it open, preparing to pounce with a complaint.

Large eyes, more like two black buttons, looked directly at you. Jungkook stood there with a bag in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other. You opened your mouth, not expecting to see him at the door of your apartment.

Jungkook ran his eyes over your outfit and smiled out of the corner of his mouth.

"Let me in?" - He brings you back to your senses. You blink your eyes a few times, as if checking to see if you're hallucinating. Are you so desperate to see Jungkook that you're imagining him?

You blink and realize that he doesn't disappear. So he's real. So it turns out he knows where you live. Of course he does. It's not a problem for him to find your address.

"What are you doing here?" - You finally ask. You stare at him, shocked by his appearance.

"I thought you might be hungry. And... you don't mind the company, do you?" - His lips curled slightly into a smile, and his eyes radiated confidence.

"What makes you say that?" - You ask again. Jungkook presses his lips together.

"Perhaps we should talk inside, or do you mind if your neighbors overhear our conversation?" - He asks cautiously. You stare at him for several long seconds and finally step aside and let him inside. He's here and you can't resist spending time with him.

Jungkook goes inside and undresses. At the same time, he looks at your new apartment.

It was small but cozy. The cream walls, wooden shelves with books, picture frames, and a few candles created an atmosphere of warmth.

There were pots with small plants on the windowsill in the kitchen, and a few scattered magazines and your laptop on the table in the living room. There was a faint smell of lavender in the air, probably from a fragrance or a candle you had recently lit.

Jungkook noticed your blanket folded on the couch. It all reminded him of how homely and calm you were, so different from the noisy, fussy people he had been around in his life.

He turned his gaze to you. You stood there in your robe, your hair a little damp from your shower, and he thought that made you even more attractive. You looked simple but natural, and that was what fascinated him.

You tried to act casual, but your tension was noticeable. Jungkook noticed the way you folded your arms across your chest, as if you were trying to create a barrier between you two.

"It's cozy here…" - He said, looking around the room.

"It only seems that way." - You replied, trying not to let your nervousness show.

Jungkook smiled and walked closer to the couch, placing a bag of chicken and a six-pack of beer on the table.

"No, really. This place really reflects you. Calm, with a nice atmosphere." - He said, looking at you again. His words made you feel a little confused. You adjusted the waistband of your robe awkwardly and avoided his gaze.

"Thank you." - You mumbled, looking away. Jungkook sat down on the couch, leaning back and crossing his legs. His gaze became more attentive, warmer.

"You look different than usual." - He said, looking you over emphatically.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" - You raised an eyebrow, trying to sound stern, but your voice came out softer than you intended.

"Just... less reserved, more relaxed." - He replied with the same half-smile that always threw you off balance. You wouldn't say you were relaxed. But Jungkook's presence made you happy. The two of you were silent, so you decided to break the silence.

"So why did you really come?" - You ask as you walk over to the table. You smelled the roasted chicken and felt hungry. You hadn't really eaten dinner. You lied to Doohoon to get him to leave you alone. You hadn't planned to eat, but who could resist fried chicken? You noticed the label on the bag said "Kuchon Chicken." The same one, from the restaurant where it is prepared, you never visited with Jungkook.

"Isn't it obvious. I want to spend time with you." - He says. You sit down next to him and open the bag of food.

"You think you can do this?" - You ask as you unpack the boxes of chicken. It's hot and smells so good you could choke on your saliva. Jungkook laughs at your behavior. He moves to the side, giving you a seat next to him. While you unpack the chicken, he opens the beer cans.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to ignore me." - He replies. You sit down next to him and take a bite of the chicken drumstick in the sweet and spicy sauce. You moan slightly at the perfect taste of this food. You take a few more bites, not noticing Jungkook watching you. You turn to Jungkook to take the beer he's holding out to you and freeze when you see his dark eyes.

"You better not do that." - Jungkook warns you, and hands you a can of cold beer.

"Do what?" - You ask, swallowing the meat. The chili burns pleasantly on your tongue.

"Don't moan." - He forbids you, and takes a piece of chicken as well. You watch as his lips touch chicken shin and he takes a few bites. "Mmm, though now I understand why you did it." - He says with his eyebrows raised. You smile and forget what kind of relationship you have now.

You take a couple of sips of beer. You get up and sit back down on the couch, but you tuck one leg under you to make yourself comfortable.

"I told you I hoped we'd never see each other again. But as usual, you didn't take my words into account." - You say, enjoying every bite of chicken. Jungkook turns to you, his lips glistening with sauce.

"Are you accusing me of ignoring your words? You confirmed that you want me to come back." - He says a bit defiantly with a shadow of a smile on his lips. You raise an eyebrow.

"Did I? When did I confirm?" - You ask and take a big gulp of beer. Damn, the combination of chicken and beer is the best in the world.

"When you didn't answer my question." - He replies. You hold your gaze on Jungkook as you think about what he said, and you feel your heart beat faster. His confidence has always thrown you off balance. You shake your head and throw the empty bone back into its packaging and give him a direct look.

"Silence is not always consent, Jungkook!" - You say, wiping the sauce off your fingers with a napkin.

Jungkook leans closer, resting his elbow on the back of the couch. His face is now very close to yours, and you feel your stomach clench.

"What was that then? A delicate denial?" - He asks with the same shadow of mockery, his gaze seemingly drilling through you.

"It was an attempt to avoid conflict." - You answer, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to look calm, even though you can clearly feel his presence in every cell of your body.

Jungkook humors you and takes another piece of chicken, biting into it slowly. It's as if he's deliberately pausing while you wait for his next words.

"You know, you're really bad at avoiding conflict. Especially with me." - He finally says with a wink. You roll your eyes, trying to hide the fact that his words hurt you.

"Jungkook, do you even realize how complicated this is? You just show up out of the blue, like a bolt from the blue, and expect me to forget everything right away." - You sigh and take a sip of your beer.

"Why not?" - He says, raising the can to his mouth. "Life's too short to waste time holding grudges." - Your lips twitch in a slight smile, but you quickly hide it.

"Easy for you to say. You're always pushing for things. I just want some peace." - You say.

"Peace?" - Jungkook asks, tilting his head to the side. "And you think he'll make you happy?" - You think about it, but quickly dismiss it.

"I don't know, Jungkook. But I have to try." - You admit. He looks at you, and something new appears in his eyes-a mixture of understanding and pity.

"I've never minded your peace, baby. I just... I don't think you want it as much as you've been telling yourself you do." - You press your lips together, not knowing what to say, and return your gaze to the rest of the chicken in the bag, pretending to be too busy picking out the next piece. But you understand: Jungkook has won the verbal battle again.

"Do you want some kimchi? I have kimpab too." - You offer. Jungkook sips his beer and watches you from behind the can.

"I'd like something else." - He says and puts the empty beer can on the table. You look at him, frightened. His eyes are sparkling with something cunning.

"What is it?" - You ask cautiously. Jungkook wipes his hands on a specially damp napkin that came with the chicken and moves closer. You watch his actions carefully.

"I’d love to eat something tastier than chicken." - He purrs, running his eyes over your face. You instantly feel a throbbing between your legs. No. You can't have sex. You haven't really decided what your relationship is right now.

"Like what?" - You ask, and you hear your voice sounding ragged. Jungkook smiles slyly. God, does he really want to have sex? Right now? Is he that brazen!

"For example, one sweet, juicy puss..." - He puts his hand between your legs and moves his hand to your pussy. But before he can finish his sentence, your phone rings.

You flinch and pick up the phone. It's a video call from your mom. You look at Jungkook nervously. He bites his lip and waves at you as if to say, "what?".

"I have to take this. My mom and I haven't talked yet today." - You say as if apologizing.

"Oh, sure, answer. I'll be glad to see omony, too." - He says. You smile nervously. You fix your hair and press the green button.

"Hi, mom." - You say. Your mother smiles broadly when she sees you.

"Hello, my dear daughter. How are you? How are you?" - She asks. You want to answer, and suddenly you feel Jungkook leaning against your side. He almost touches your face and looks into the camera.

"Greetings, omony. I'm so glad to see you." - He says friendly. You turn your eyes to him without turning your head and smile tightly.

"Jungkook!!!" - Your mom exclaims with joy. "It's really you. You're back from your trip? I'm glad to see you, son." - She says. Jungkook freezes for a moment. Did you say he went away? Why?

"Yes, the omony. I came back and the first thing I did was come to Y/N. We're drinking beer and eating chicken." - Jungkook replies. You feel his hand on your thigh. You tense up and put your hand on top of his to move it off. But Jungkook squeezes your meat, and you look up at him.

"You're back so late. You should have gone home right away." - Your mom says. You struggle against Jungkook's hand, which is already under your robe. Luckily, you're wearing shorts.

"Oh, Y/N's apartment was just on the way, so I stopped by. But I was really tired from the road. So I think she won't mind if I stay overnight." - Jungkook said.

"No." - You object immediately. "You're not staying at my place. You're going home." - You say. Your mom laughs. She looks at you and can't stop thinking about what a good couple you would make. Wouldn't it be nice if Jungkook stayed with you? Your mom sees Jungkook's eyebrows raise as he looks at you.

"Don't be so angry, daughter. Jungkook-ah is tired. Care him in properly." - Mom says gently. You look at your mom with surprise because she hasn’t supported you. Jungkook smiles and thanks your mom for her support.

You hold Jungkook's hand as he wants to go somewhere he can't. Jungkook and your mom are still talking about his imaginary trip and when she is convinced that you will let Jungkook stay and she hears that you are okay, she hangs up.

As soon as the video call ends, you are instantly trapped between the couch and Jungkook. He holds you down, getting dangerously close to you.

"Why did you lie to your mother about me going somewhere?" - He asks. Your heart flies out of your chest. You burn from the inside out, feeling his body, and this closeness, which you have missed like crazy. The throbbing between your legs intensifies.

"She asked for you, almost every day, as if she felt something. I had to tell her something. I didn't plan to talk to you anymore." - You say honestly. Jungkook frowns.

"What were you going to tell her next?" - He asks. "What would be the reason we're not talking?" - You bite your lip.

"I don't know. I haven't thought about it." - You answer. Jungkook suddenly smiles.

"Ahhh, so you were planning to make up after all." - He says with a lazy smile. He can't help himself, and without waiting for your answer, he touches the back of your neck. You hold your breath. He leaves weightless kisses, and you feel goosebumps instantly cover your entire body.

"Jungkook..." - You exhale excitedly. You want to stop him from kissing you. You can't have sex with him. But you want Jungkook so badly. You've missed him so much.

"Your reaction is so obvious." - He whispers against your lips. "Don't even think about forbidding me anything. I'm going to fuck you tonight so you'll finally understand my feelings and my persistence. You are mine and always will be. Stop resisting. We are inevitable." - You look at Jungkook and go crazy. He breaks through your defenses and you realize that there is no turning back. You're too much in love with him. You can't live without him and he can't live without you. Isn't it better to accept who he has become and help him get out of the abyss rather than leave him there alone? He is your destiny. It is undeniable.

"You'll have to prove it with deeds, not words, Jeon." - You say, giving up. Jungkook closes his eyes for a split second. You finally realize that you have no choice but to be his love. He opens his eyes and smiles broadly. The piercing on his lips stretches.

"You'd better be careful what you say, my love. Because I will prove my feelings to you in such a way that you won't be able to sit down for a week." - He threatens. You laugh.

"Go ahead and prove your feelings to me, my love." - You say. Jungkook has never felt anything like this in his life. The words "my love" coming out of your mouth make him feel overwhelmed by his feelings.

"You have no idea how it sounds from your lips. I want you to call me that forever." - Jungkook whispers, moving even closer. His voice is deep, as if hoarse with pent-up emotion. You give him a playful glance, feeling the tension between you grow.

"I forgot how much you like to talk. Not to get right down to business." - You protest. Jungkook laughs, low and raspy, a sound that makes your heart beat faster. He raises his hand and runs his fingers along your cheek, lingering lightly against your lips.

"You know that ask for something you can't handle."

"Are you sure I'm the one who can't handle it and not you?" - You say, raising an eyebrow. His smile grows wider and a sparkle of excitement sparkles in his eyes.

"I love your cockiness. It only makes me want more." - He whispers, leaning in so close that his lips are almost touching yours. "But I warned you." - You can't wait to get down to business. Your underwear is soaking wet.

Jungkook finally doesn't hold back. His lips connect with yours in a passionate, all-encompassing kiss that washes away all doubts. His hands slide confidently up your hips, and you dig your fingers into his shoulders, feeling every muscle under the thin fabric of his T-shirt.

He plunges his tongue into your mouth and you join in the absolute passion of love.

You moan from these exciting sensations. You enjoy the pressure of his body on yours. He pushes you with his semi-hard cock against your pussy. You can't wait to feel him inside you.

Jungkook leaves your lips to breathe in.

"Let's go to the bedroom." - He suggests.

You don't see where you're going. Jungkook immediately pounced on your lips as soon as you crossed the threshold of your bedroom. He undresses you as he walks, ripping off your robe and removing your pajama top.

You legs next the bed. A moment later, you find yourself lying on it on your back. Jungkook asks you to go up higher. You listen to him and lie down on the pillows. He takes off the T-shirt he was only wearing and his pants, leaving in his boxers. You can see how strong his bulge is.

You bite your lip until it hurts as he slowly pulls off your shorts along with your cotton panties. Jungkook's gaze darkens at the sight of your naked body, especially your pussy. He can already see how wet you are, your folds glistening.

Jungkook spreads your legs. You are very wet. He can't wait to lick every drop of your juice.

You are breathing heavily. Your breasts rise and fall with a frantic rhythm. Jungkook leans down to your lips and touches your center with his hand. He breathes heavily into your lips, and it makes you even wetter. He moves his finger around your center, swiping the moisture away.

"Baby... you're so wet. Have you missed me so much that you're dripping onto my fingers?" - He wheezes against your lips.

"Shut up, that's embarrassing to hear." - You complain, squirming from the pleasure of Jungkook's fingers. His laughter vibrates on your skin.

"It's not a shame. It seems to drive me crazy." - Jungkook wheezes. You hear his tone and think the same thing to yourself.

"I want more." - You ask, moving your hips against his hand. Jungkook captures your lips. His tongue fills your mouth.

"The patience, love. You are completely at my mercy. I'm going to do many things today." - He promises. You moan. Jungkook kisses your lips one last time. He licks the fingers thatdoesn’t let you come. He tastes your juice.

Jungkook lowers himself to your pussy and settles between your legs. His big palms grab your buttocks. He touches his lips to your center and you tremble. His wet tongue plays with your center. You arch your back and moan loudly. It feels like the first time. He licks the skin around your clit. Jungkook pushes his fingers into your passage. He moves them, stretching your walls. Your velvety, tender walls make him needy. He just wants to shove his cock inside you and fuck you to the exhaustion.

Jungkook sucks on your swollen bud. His tongue licks your clit so hard you scream. You clutch the blanket until your fingers are white. He smiles at your screams. Jungkook wraps his tongue around your clit and then pulls away. You relax, and almost instantly want him to return his lips to your pussy.

"You taste so fucking sweet. I missed that taste so much." - He confesses. He goes back to licking your wet folds.

"Kook..." - You breathe out his name. It's a signal that you're on the verge. Your hips are trembling. Jungkook returns to your clit and completely destroys your sanity. You come on his tongue with a loud scream. Jungkook feels your clit shudder. You have your first orgasm.

You're breathing hard and trying to get over the emotions caused by the incredible wave of orgasm. Jungkook licks his fingers that were in your passage and smiles with satisfaction. He lifts himself up to you. You smile back at him.

"Do I deserve such a skillful tongue?" - You ask him, breathing heavily. Jungkook laughs out loud. He kneels down in front of your open legs.

"Do I really deserve such a delicious pussy?" - He asks you back. You laugh. You look at his boxers. He should get out of them, he must be in pain.

You get up and sit in the same position front of Jungkook.

"Why are you still dressed?" - You smile. You move closer and reach into his boxers. You find the head of his cock. The fabric in front of it is completely wet. You caress it, smiling innocently. Jungkook bites his lip and looks at you with a look of lust. "Get rid of them. I want to ride the cock that belongs to me now." - You declare. Jungkook laughs. You don't let him stand up as you continue to caress him. 

"It's always belonged to you." - He says. You raise an eyebrow, and pull your lips into a sly smile. 

"Really? What about the dozen women who sat on it?" - You ask ironically. Again, you remind him of his wild youth. 

"I imagined you in their place. Does that count?" - He asks and rises to his knees. You follow, pulling your hand out of his pants. 

"I don't think so." - You say. Jungkook laughs. He gets off the bed. He pulls off his boxers and stands in front of you, completely naked. You look at him greedily. You really don't believe he's real. He's so perfect, as if he were molded by God. 

He walks over to the bed and holds out his hand to you. You get off and Jungkook sits on the edge. You look at his erect cock and want to suck it. But Jungkook doesn't let you. He grabs his length in his hand and pumps it up, showing off the purple head of his cock. 

"Come on, baby, ride me. Take yours." - He invites. You excited. You put your hands on his shoulders to make yourself comfortable. You spread your legs and walk over to Jungkook to sit on his lap. His skin is soft under your fingers. It's hot, just like yours. The fire between you is on fire. 

You lower yourself to Jungkook's length. He puts the head of his cock against your entrance, and you start to lower yourself. Because it's been so long since you've had sex, there's a slight ache as Jungkook's cock plunges into your passage. You bite your lips to hold back the pain. Jungkook helps you down by holding your hips. As you sit there filled to the brim with Jungkook's cock, you feel euphoric. You perfectly envelop his length. The pleasure of his naked cock inside you makes your walls clench. Jungkook is breathing heavily, trying to control himself. 

"Fuck..." - He swears, unable to hold it in. You open your eyes and meet his. They are dark and half open. There is nothing but lust in them. Jungkook pulls you down for a passionate kiss. He doesn't kiss you long. Then he pushes his tongue out of your mouth and runs it across your lips. He tastes your plump lips.

After your lips, he goes down to your neck, leaving wet marks. His fingers squeeze the meat on your buttocks, and without warning, he moves his hips, pushing his cock into you to the maximum. A gasp and a cry escape your lips. You feel blissful as you begin to move on his hips.

Jungkook moves his hips against you as well, helping you ride him with his supporting arms. You moan with pleasure, and you don't think at all about whether the neighbors will hear you or whether the soundproofing in these apartments is good. Most likely not, but who cares now?

You jump on Jungkook's lap, clutching the skin on his shoulder with your nails. The sensations of friction inside you raise your body temperature even higher. After a while, Jungkook brakes you. 

"Turn around." - He asks. You listen to him and stand up. You turn your back and lower yourself onto Jungkook's thick cock again. This time you sit down with almost no pain. 

You like this angle better. Jungkook bites the skin on your neck. He takes your breasts in his hands and squeezes them. He plays with your nipples, making you as excited as possible. 

"You ride my cock so well, don't you, my love?" - He asks you in a hoarse and heavy voice. His breath burns your ear. 

"Yes." - You agree, exhaling the word. "It’s so fucking good."

"You're so good at clinging to me." - He says again. "You should see your face. Look how wonderful you are. It feels so fucking good when I fuck you like this. So good for me, and only for me." - His compliments make you moan and move faster. You feel a growing orgasm in your middle. You ride faster so that you can finally feel it. 

You stop when a wave of pleasure washes over you. Jungkook buries his nose in the crook of your neck, holding himself back from cumming from the way your walls are squeezing his cock. You can feel how sweaty you are, but Jungkook doesn't seem to care. He kisses your shoulder, then your neck, enjoying the taste of your skin. 

You breathe heavily, catching your breath. When your breathing returns to normal, you turn to Jungkook. He's smiling. 

You have a second orgasm. You kiss his lips gently as you lean in, as if to thank him for another orgasm. Jungkook responds. You can't kiss him for long, because first of all, you're halfway to his face, and secondly, you're sitting on Jungkook's hard cock, which hasn't come yet. You pull away from his lips. Jungkook opens his eyes. 

"Get up baby, I want to fuck your tight pussy standing up." - He tells you, and you don't mind at all. 

You get to your feet and they tremble slightly. You feel a little tired. You didn't sleep well last night, worked on a project, and have already had two orgasms. Riding a cock is not that easy.

Jungkook bends you over to the bed to bend over for him. You lean on your hands and are ready to take him again. You watch as Jungkook moves the head of his cock around your pussy. He mixes your cum with his own and slides inside after a moment. You will never get enough of the feeling of that cock inside you. 

Jungkook makes several thrusts, pushing his length almost completely out of you. You moan from the pleasant friction. But suddenly he pushes his cock deep inside you. You feel it twitching inside you. 

Suddenly you remember that you stopped taking birth control. Jungkook needs to be warned not to come inside you. But his intense movements, which make your face sweat and your head spin, make you postpone it for later. You bite your lip to hold back loud moans. 

"Scream, baby. That's why I'm fucking you like this." - Jungkook says in a low voice full of excitement. You release your lips and a scream of pleasure instantly fills the space around you. Jungkook slams into you again, and you think he's going to cum soon. Because you are already on the verge. Your third orgasm of the night is coming.

But Jungkook is more sturdy than ever tonight. Not having sex for five weeks could made him sensitive. The way you, for example, come almost over and over again. But he wants to enjoy you as long as possible because he hasn't had you for over a month. This is his own record. The longest he's ever been without sex was two weeks. It's also strange that he held out so easily for so long because he knew that sooner or later you would come back to him. And then he will enjoy you to the fullest. That's what he's doing right now. 

Jungkook comes out of you and you don't immediately realize that he's not in you. You get up and turn your head to find him. 

"Lie down on the bed, your legs must be tired." - He says gently, coming close. In an instant, his lips bite yours fiercely. He doesn't use his tongue, but you like how hot it feels. Jungkook's hard cock rests against your pussy. You think it's time for him to come, he's already given you a lot of pleasure.

You take his length in your hand, and without breaking from the hot kiss, you pump Jungkook's length. He moans into your mouth as you do the manual labor. But that's not how he wants to cum. It has to be your pussy. It has to be full of his cum and it must dripping down your juicy thighs. That's the only way he plans to end this reconciliation sex. 

You fall softly onto the bed. Jungkook quickly climbs on top and settles between your legs. He spreads them apart to get a good view of your cunt, swollen from intense sex. He can't get enough of the sight. Jungkook touches your clit and slowly massages it while he enters your passage for the last act. 

You are filled with his cock again and want to experience another orgasm. Now Jungkook's movements are slow, deep, and romantic. You look at him and smile. Jungkook doesn't understand what caused you to react this way. At first, he raises his eyebrows, wondering why you're smiling, and then he gives you a sharp jolt, and you stop smiling.

He speeds up his movements, bringing you to your third orgasm of the night. You can hear the sinful sound of your bodies slamming against each other. Jungkook's balls are pounding your ass. Wet sounds come from below. You close your eyes, feeling your orgasm building, not seeing Jungkook looking between your bodies. He goes wild at the sight of his cock deep inside you. 

"Kook…I.. I'm close." - A whisper escaped your lips.

"Come around me, my love." - He says low, as if he knows you're on the verge of another orgasm. As if you were waiting for his permission, less than five seconds later, your walls squeeze Jungkook's cock a second time, and this time he can't hold back. Another series of thrusts and he spills his semen into you, cumming intensely. His low moan, more like a growl, echoes in your ears. 

Jungkook falls on top of you and breathes heavily into the crook of your neck. Your chest rises rhythmically, and you try to normalize your breathing. This was one of the best sexes you've ever had. No wonder you've been away from each other for so long, and it's heightened your senses. 

Jungkook lifts up and looks at you. His forehead is glistening with sweat, a few drops trickle down his temples on their way to his neck. 

"Fuck. That was the best sex I've ever had…" - He tells you. You stretch your lips into a smile. "Maybe we should miss each other more often." - Jungkook suggests, laughing hard and running his fingers down your cheek to your lips. "I don't even know how I survived this long without you. Maybe it sounds stupid, but I just want to be here, by your side... always" - You gently hug his neck, looking him straight in the eyes.

"It's not ridiculous. It's exactly what I want too." - You say softly, feeling his eyes fill with warmth. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a long, slow kiss.

"No matter how much I have you, it will never be enough." - He whispers, pulling his lips away from yours and touching his forehead to yours. You smile, realizing that for the first time in a long time you feel absolute peace. You belong to each other, and there is no doubt about it anymore.

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[snowfieldstories]

In Life and Death [Chapter -1]

Kim Dokja x Reader (original female character)

In Life and Death Masterlist

A/N: Welcome back! I've tweaked the original details of the 95th main scenario to fit my romance needs. Apologies if that bothers you.

UPDATE!! This chapter was too long so I cut the first scene and added it to the previous chapter. I recommend going back and reading it because it has important information!

Warnings: canon-typical violence, some language. and smut, kind of. heavily, heavily implied smut

Summary:

In which a reader finds herself tossed into the pages of her favorite web novel after her untimely death. A novel within a novel within reality. It's a reader's dream, right? Well, this reader vows to bring the right ending to the one and only, Kim Dokja. She will give him the happiest of endings. Or she will die trying.

⚠️MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ORV WEB NOVEL AND MANHWA!!!!⚠️

Episode I. Chapter -1: Beginnings

In fact, I did lie when I said I wouldn't interfere.

It wasn't registered as a lie, since I hadn't remembered it myself. There was someone I wanted to save. Someone I could save, for the first time.

"Choi Yeona! Where are you, you omniscient pig?"

Jung Heewon sped around the corner so quickly that I had nowhere to hide. I put up my hands in weak defense.

"Heewon." I smiled.

"Don't 'Heewon' me," she growled. "I know it was you."

"I'm not sure what you mean." Heewon advanced on me, so I changed tactics. "Okay maybe it was me. But! But I got you something better."

"Better than my cookies?" She looked ready to throttle me. A bit deserved, I suppose.

I picked up the plastic sack that had fallen when she arrived and placed two items in her hands. A large pack of chocolate cookies and a slightly battered can.

"A bigger size to replace what I may or may not have eaten." She shot me a dirty look. "And canned strawberry cake."

Heewon inspected the can. "I didn't know there was such a thing as canned cake."

"It's all yours. Swear on my life."

"How did you find these, anyway?" she asked.

"I was wandering the streets, feeling the crushing guilt of eating the last of my dearest friend's sweets—" Heewon snorted at that "—so I clasped my hands together and prayed, begged, pleaded to find anything that would make things right. Then I opened my eyes and found a convenience store with an unbroken cargo box."

There was a silence before the roar of laughter. Heewon broke into the fresh pack of cookies and offered me one.

"Sometimes, I can't tell if you're all-knowing or the luckiest woman alive," she said.

"You should hide your things better. The back of a closet, really? Cliché," I clacked my tongue, evading her previous statement.

"...Yeah, I hate that you know everything."

I squished her cheeks briefly. "I love you very much, too."

"Hmph."

She let the whole thing slide more easily than I had expected. And Jung Heewon could hold a serious grudge (unfortunately, I knew from personal experience). But Heewon, like Sooyoung, Hyunsung, and the others, must have sensed my agitation of late. The other day, Namwoon dragged in what resembled a mutated deer, like a puppy eager to show its master the bird it caught. "See, angel noona, look at this, we can eat venison tonight! Maybe you can get the monster to grill it."

I knew the group members were used to my calm ("Freaky omniscience, go!" as Jihye would stage whisper before a fight) so my turbulent energy must be putting them well on edge.

The 95th main scenario was upon us. I was growing more antsy by the day as a certain event approached.

"Did Sooyoung leave already?" I asked lightly.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, I think she took off last night." Heewon fidgeted with a knife on the edge of the can. "Jihye said that monster-guy is nearby, though, so you better hang around. No one else can get through to him if he attacks us."

I nodded. It was near time, anyways.

“Tomorrow I’ll scout the south side. Can you take the west?" I asked. Recently, Joonghyuk's activity had veered south, and I preferred to station myself in between him and the base. For their sake and his own.

Heewon agreed and after settling on a few more details of the rotation, I left her to tackle the cake can.

The next afternoon, I was dodging a stampede of elephant-like monsters among the Seoul buildings.

[The exclusive skill, 'Sacred Light' has been activated!]

I swung a rope of light and caught the ankle of another incarnation, sweeping him out of the way before he was crushed underfoot. "Thanks," he gasped, but I was already moving on to the next.

My golden lasso was inspired by Sangah's Olympic strings of the next turn. I was a bit ashamed of copying her (the anticipation of shame, rather, for when I met her again). But my 'Sacred Light' was good for more than just rope. I could wield a number of different weapons with it, and tricky past scenarios had led me to discovering more practical uses.

An elephant crashed into the side of a tower, sending a shower of concrete chunks my way. I tossed up a light barrier and ran. A shadow grew on me, and I had a fraction of a second to dive to the side before my shield—and body—shattered.

I sat up slowly, wheezing, as the dust cleared. In my place was a massive slab of concrete. Surviving that...could it count as luck?

"Mother, what's my luck meter?" I rasped.

[The constellation 'Mother of Divine Desire' opens your checking account.]

[Incarnation 'Choi Yeona's' balance: 1476/2500 luck]

[Recent activity: Concrete slab ... +80 luck. Expand to continue account history?]

I closed out the windows with a weary nod. Now that I had grasped the concept of my exclusive skill, 'Bank of Lady Fortune,' my sponsor never bothered to send update notices unless asked.

I brushed my clothes and continued on my route. The last of the elephants had moved on and the screams of incarnations began to weaken. I sent a message through the comms link for Lee Seolhwa's medical response team to make a sweep of this quadrant.

The streets were quiet. Unnervingly so. There were traces of a fight but I had yet to see any bodies, only scorch marks on buildings and slashes of power and sword. Up ahead was a clearing.

"Son of a bitch! You have to let me talk to you!"

I hurried to find a battlefield; bloodied constellation bodies littered the ground. The cry came from the two lone figures who stood above them all.

Yoo Joonghyuk held a neck with two fingers while his other fist sucker punched the gut of a man in white.

My heart tripped on itself, and I whispered, "Kim Dokja."

There was a flurry of black and white as the two opponents clashed. For a moment, they paused long enough that I could see clearly the long, white coat-covered back facing me. Their swords raised to strike.

I shouted as loud as I could, "Joonghyuk! He is not your enemy."

He hesitated.

His reactions were irregular of late, now more than ever as his mind sunk deeper into a regression depression. It was fortunate he paused, because Dokja turned at the sound of my voice. And froze.

But now was not the time. I pointed at the advancing man. "Joonghyuk!"

They continued to fight but Dokja began speaking; Joonghyuk's movements were becoming sluggish. It must have been their conversation from the book. Dokja would soon learn who his target was for Secretive Plotter's sub-scenario. I didn't move closer, in part because I was in awe of the strength of their abilities, and partly because I knew this wasn't my fight.

There was something I was forgetting about this moment, but I'd have to reread it later. The battle had stalled. Dokja reached for Joonghyuk's shoulder and spoke to him with a serious expression. I was too far away to hear.

At last, Joonghyuk's sword clattered on the ground and Dokja turned to me.

I was afraid, so afraid, to read into his expression. I feared I would find confusion at my presence, irritation that I'd endangered his fight. Or, worse, indifference. I took in a sharp breath and waved. "Hi."

Admittedly, there were times when I was an idiot. Hi? Hi??

While I cringed at myself, I failed to notice the blur of white that sped forth until it was practically on top of me. Two arms wrapped around my frame and a head settled in the crook of my neck. A hot breath fanned my skin, and lips that brushed—"Yeona."

Kim Dokja smelled of the crack of lightning and something fresh. Who the hell smells fresh in the middle of an apocalypse? I thought. I drew back a fraction, just enough to see his face. Relief. Wonder. Happiness. Dokja was happy to see me.

"So casual? We must be close," I teased. My heart thumped fiercely at the proximity. He could probably feel it.

"Incredibly."

I could hardly tear my gaze away. "Kim Dokja."

It was almost unbelievable that he was in my arms right now. After so, so long, he was here, warm and real. Alive. And he knew me—no, more than that, he seemed to care for me.

"Then, I must be alive in your world-turn?" I spoke.

Dokja's smile is ever so soft. "Very much so."

"I'm glad to know for certain that I regress properly," I said. "It makes the wait more than worth it."

His hands cupped my cheeks. "You really waited? After all this time?"

My heart was about to spit up something incredibly nerdy and sappy, along the lines of "always" or "for you," but my brain was quicker. "Someone had to take care of this mess for when you arrived."

Dokja's head tilted forwards as he laughed. It sounded crazy to say that his eyes sparkled but, oh, did they. Stars upon stars filled his gaze, like the universe had decided to make a nest there. It wasn't entirely human; but for a constellation, it was only right to hold this beauty.

I carded my fingers through his wind-ragged hair. On accident, my nails scratched light against his scalp and Dokja's starry eyes came into sharp focus.

"Forgive me," Dokja murmured.

And then his lips were on mine.

Hands caressed my jaw and the back of my neck as he kissed me deeply. I tugged on the locks of hair between my fingers, and the sound that left his body had my mouth opening in a gasp. I felt the first touch of something hot and wet, when he broke away suddenly.

Oh my.

I had a mind to ask what the ever-loving fuck (when I could find my mind, of course. It ran off the moment I was kissed stupid) but Dokja spun around. His stance blocked me. "Yoo Joonghyuk."

Ah, right. They weren't alone.

"He's a big boy. I'm sure he can handle seeing a bit of kissing," I said, sullen.

Dokja ignored me and went to the broken regressor. I followed. "Yoo Joonghyuk." No response. "It's like in Ways of Survival," I heard him say to himself.

"Um." I was sorry to burst his bubble. "Not exactly. The 1863rd turn as you know it was altered. And not because of me."

Footsteps hurried towards us. Heewon, a sword in each hand aimed at Dokja and Joonghyuk respectively, looked to me in question.

"Okay...that one was because of me."

"Yeona, who is this?" said Heewon. She eyed Dokja's coat suspiciously.

"He's a friend." My lips still burned. "From a different world regression. We need to speak to Sooyoung when she returns."

"Han Sooyoung?" said Dokja with an understanding dawning. The pieces in his mind were fitting together, and he had the good sense not to voice them aloud.

Heewon paused before lowering the sword pointed at Dokja. Her eyes darted between us. At his protective hand held out in front of me. "I see."

I did not like the grin that took over her face. Her thoughts practically screamed at me. I was only grateful to have another person with the sense not to share those thoughts aloud.

Joonghyuk slumped over as though he might fall at any second.

"Heewon," I snapped and ran to help steady him with a supporting arm. "He won't hurt anyone right now."

She slowly sheathed the other sword. There was a thunderous sound in the distance; they needed to leave before the elephants returned. I urged Joonghyuk forwards with a glance at them. "Let's head back. You two clear a path and we'll follow."

Dokja moved and winced. I called him over, finally noticing the stab wound on his side.

[The exclusive skill, 'Sacred Light' has been activated!]

My glowing hand hovered over the wound. "It isn't healed but the pain should lessen."

It also sped up the recovery time. He would still need the infirmary for stitches. I used the skill on Joonghyuk as well and caught Dokja lingering even as I focused on "healing." He had shuffled back to Heewon by the time I finished up. I offered the hand to her.

"I'm good." She shook her head.

It didn't take more than an hour to return. Every so often, Joonghyuk would stumble from a lack of awareness and Dokja would look back, sword tight in his grip. I used a few golden arrows of light to pick off the beasts that slipped past.

When the stronghold was within sight, I peeked at Dokja's reaction. He seemed spellbound, like a kid discovering that candy stores were real for the first time.

We headed in. I led Joonghyuk up the main staircase while Dokja paused by the infirmary. Lee Seolhwa emerged with a stretcher, and they exchanged words, but I continued up. There was a well-hidden storeroom off to the side, unexpectedly cosy with a couch, table and chairs, and several odd lamps perched precariously on crates of broken star relics. I set Joonghyuk down on the couch. Only my close companions of the original novel knew of this place. No one would bother us here.

The door opened and Dokja entered. Heewon poked in her head from behind, waggled her eyebrows at me, then she slammed it shut. Annoying. 

I used 'Sacred Light' to trace a golden ring on the crown of Joonghyuk's head. It was how I signaled to my companions that his presence meant no harm. After, I kept my hand there, smoothing down the dark curls that had knotted during the fight.

"Joonghyuk, stay here, alright? Don't hurt anyone. And rest."

The hand that caressed Joonghyuk's head was snatched off and I turned to find Dokja much closer than before. There was a wild edge to his expression. He leaned in, nose brushing mine, and our breaths mixed.

"Yeona, I want—" He sounded almost desperate. Before rationality left me again, I shoved him away.

"Kim Dokja." Dokja, wide-eyed and uncertain, was at a loss for words. My laugh sounded breathless to my own ears. "You really are the devil, Demon King of Salvation."

With one last check on Joonghyuk, I took Dokja's hand, fingers intertwined, and led him out the hall and up staircases. Briefly, we passed a startled Kim Namwoon. "Angel-noona?" he called out to our retreating backs. We rounded the last corner where my room was in sight.

Dokja stopped in his tracks. "Shit."

I watched, concerned, as Dokja plucked a red cosmo and white lily from his coat pocket and set them carefully on a high windowsill. My body went hot and cold all at once. "Um, is that...?"

[The constellation 'Lily Blooming in Aquarius' is looking at you.] [The constellation 'Commander of the Red Cosmos' is looking at you.]

"Yes," he said with a grimace.

[What the ■ck. You could have remembered we were here a lot sooner, Demon King of Salvation. Or perhaps Demon King of Salacity is more appropriate.]

The Archangel Gabriel's true voice was scalding.

[I guess we should be ever so grateful not to bear witness any further. Truly an appalling display. Young ■ing constellations and incarnations these days, really.]

The Archangel Jophiel was blessedly quiet.

[I shouldn't be surprised, child of Divine Desire. You, too, live up to your sinful name—!]

Dokja whisked me down the hall before any more of Gabriel's rambling could continue. "Sorry about that."

My cheeks burned. "It's fine. I wasn't expecting to get scolded by an archangel today."

"I forgot they were in there."

I ushered him inside my room, thankful to have not left any piles of clothes or weapons on the floor. When the door closed, I found that Dokja had hardly taken more than a few steps into the room. Neither of us spoke for a moment. We merely looked at each other.

"If you think about it, they could have spoken up sooner. Maybe," I said, slowly approaching him, "they wanted to see something. Maybe they were hoping to."

I was a hand's breadth away from Dokja. His thumb brushed the scar across my forehead.

I leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to the collarbone exposed from his shirt. He stilled. I took my time, trailing kisses up his neck.

"Is this really okay?" he said. There was that uncertainty again. Even as his hands slipped under my top to grip my waist. Even as he shuddered and sighed at my lips on his pulse. How could a man be so needy, yet cautious, all at once?

"Dokja." I used the collar of his shirt to bring his face to mine directly. "Please, just shut your mouth."

Then I did it for him with my own.

Unlike the last one, these kisses started out sweet and slow. We kissed as long-separated lovers do. Which, perhaps in a fantastical, twisted way, we are.

"The channel," he said in between kisses that grew longer, harder. "Should we ask them...shut it off?"

I pulled back to take in a few gulps of air. "You and I are both leaving this world soon. Let them watch."

It was like shattering a dam. Dokja descended in what could only be described as hunger. Every rough touch, a clash of tongues, skin bitten and bruised, every whimper from the man below me, told this story.

Somehow we ended up on the bed, and the clothes on the floor, and I couldn't really say beyond that because each of my senses were filled with Kim Dokja.

At last, he pressed in as close as two can be and, in that moment, I foolishly begged anyone listening to my thoughts that my greatest desire would come true.

I was amazed at how natural things felt with Kim Dokja, because I hadn't ever actually spent real time with him. Much of my time in this 1863rd turn was spent poring over Omniscient Reader so that I had a secure knowledge of the future and its inhabitants. Rereading it so often helped me feel closer to Dokja; I read the novel like it was a memoir, and it I didn't think it was delusional to call it that because the book's narrative had become truth. Dokja mostly treated Ways of Survival as fiction, but for me it was fact. I could no longer think of these people as characters after years spent in this world.

Dokja's fingers twisted lazily in my hair. There was a pleasant ache in my body. No, certainly not characters.

"You know, your eyes truly sparkle. Probably because you're a constellation now," I said, tracing the shape of astronomic constellations I could remember on the damp skin of Dokja's chest.

I felt the rumble as he laughed. "So you've said."

"I really am the same person in the next round, aren't I?" It was meant to be in jest, but he tensed beneath me.

Dokja was quiet. "Seeing you here, as you are before you reach the next turn, is—" He swallowed, and a finger stroked my cheek. "I cause you so much pain, Yeona."

"We probably cause each other quite a bit of pain," I said simply while tilting to face him better.

Dokja shook his head, lost in thought. "I'm much too selfish."

I pulled him in for a deep, long kiss. "Don't forget sacrificial," I said with a gentle smile.

There were several loud knocks on the door. It was a welcome intrusion, because Dokja's expression was making me uneasy.

"Yes?"

"Unnie! Don't worry I'm not gonna—oh, God—I'm not gonna come in. Because that would be horribly awkward. And disturbing. But Sooyoung is back, and you know how she is, she'll probably get impatient and come to you—"

"Got it," I said loudly. I didn't question how she knew; Heewon had been a little too excited earlier. I thought we might have more time, given Dokja had arrived at the stronghold sooner than was written. But not everything could happen perfectly from the novel.

I slipped from the sheets and picked up a bundle of clothes. At the sight of Dokja's smirk, I hurled the clothes at his face. "Get dressed."

He held up pants and his coat. "You want me to go out in only these? Well, I don't mind being shirtless," he said.

"Don't be a princess." I picked up his black button down and slipped my arms through it. "If you do, I could always leave in just this."

Dokja sat up, rigid, and tugged me in by the waist. "No."

"It's only fair." I patted his cheek as he sulked like a child.

The "child" in question wrapped his arms around me and stuck his face in my stomach. There was a muffled, "you win."

Pleased, I lifted his face up and pecked his lips.

In no time, we were (appropriately) dressed and stepping out. I was surprised to find Jihye still waiting.

”This ahjussi…?”

Jihye gave Dokja the sort of once-over only a haughty teenager could give. Result: unimpressed. She glanced at me and balked. I tried smoothing down my hair more. There was no mirror in my room.

"You know, unnie, I really thought it would be you and your tamed monster. But I'm happy for you." Then she flounced away.

Dokja's grip was tight in my hand. I turned to him, horrified. "No. No."

His frown only deepened. "You are rather gentle with him. And I know I don't exist here, so it makes sense...I mean, there's no reason you wouldn't...I shouldn't have assumed."

"We have never," I said with vehemence, "ever, been like that. I care for him, of course, but in this turn he's lost everyone. There's no one else left to care for him but me. That doesn't mean it's romantic."

You fool, I wouldn't have just slept with you if that were the case. I pulled him into an embrace and felt his head drop down on mine.

His sigh tickled my hair; his words, warm on my ear, said, "Good. Whether it's this life or the next, I have no intention of sharing you with that bastard."

I scoffed. "Your closest companion, you mean."

"Whatever," he muttered. We headed for Sooyoung's office.

'I know I don't exist here.' I wasn't sure if I should tell him that he once did.

Honestly, I couldn't even understand how it was possible. Kim Dokja wasn't supposed to exist in any other worldline—I don't see how my transmigration could have affected that. My suspicion was rooted in the memories I recovered of my month at Minosoft. We interacted often. But never once did Dokja utter the words "Ways of Survival" or "web novels." I never even caught him reading on his phone. I suspected he wasn't really Kim Dokja, or, at least, the Kim Dokja as he is known in Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint.

I still loved him regardless. (I've since come to realize that I would love Kim Dokja in any world and universe, in any existence.)

I knocked on the office door and heard a shout to enter. The door shut behind us and Sooyoung looked up. Her mouth dropped open. "Holy shit."

My brows furrowed, but I gestured beside me. "This is Kim Dokja."

"So, this is who you've been waiting for." Sooyoung circled him. She stopped with a flat expression. "I don't see it."

I held back a groan. "I don't remember asking for you or Jihye's opinion on the matter."

"Jihye has taste," said Sooyoung while picking at her fingernails.

"If you're finished discussing my looks," said Dokja. "We have more urgent matters."

Sooyoung studied the white coat and Unbroken Faith sword that mirrored her own. She picked up her sword and approached Dokja again. "Yes, it seems we do."

He was wary and I felt the first crackles of status leak from him. I placed a hand on his arm. "Don't bother. This is a Non-aggression Zone."

"Exactly. Choi Yeona, you may go," said Sooyoung. Dokja frowned and opened his mouth.

"No, she's right," I said, squeezing his arm. "There's somewhere I need to be. By the way, Sooyoung, remember what we discussed."

Sooyoung pressed her lips together in a thin line. "Fine. Now go on."

I made for the exit when I heard a jingle.

"Wait, Yeona." Sooyoung tossed me a set of keys. "Go to my room and get yourself a turtleneck. Please."

It took a moment for her words to register. I slapped a palm against my neck in alarm. By the look on Sooyoung's face, it wasn't near enough to cover whatever marks were left there.

Dokja carefully avoided my nasty glare. Then the corner of his mouth twitched.

"You—!" This man reeked of satisfaction. I hurled mental curses and threats his way as I stalked out of the room.

In no time, I was changing into a white turtleneck from Sooyoung's closet. I didn't own any, but hers was soft and fit me like a warm hug. I liked it. In fact, I had never seen her wear it before. I wondered if I could keep it.

She kept a mirror at her desk, and when I had caught my reflection, I groaned. Mottled red and purple marks painted either side of my neck and tender, raised bites littered my collarbones. Even now with the high neck to cover them, one little red patch peeked out.

'Sacred Light' should fade them quickly. No chance was I letting anyone from medical see them, even Lee Seolhwa.

I took the elevator back down to the main floor and sought out the hidden storeroom. Joonghyuk still sat in silence. But rather than looking as if he were drowning in his own mind, Joonghyuk had an alert, yet resigned, expression. The halo's glow was the only light, as the sun had nearly faded. I flipped on a few lamps.

"I'll bring you some food. You're probably starved, right? Ah, or you could join us in the dining hall..."

"No."

I nodded, having expected it. "I can find you a spare room so you can sleep here tonight."

"This one is fine."

Joonghyuk finally met my gaze. I knew, without a word from him, that he was grateful. I smiled. "I'll be back."

I gathered the food, water, a few extra chocolates, and some large blankets in a bag. I also slipped in a small note. After dropping them off, I let him be. I was hungry myself and he was not in the headspace for company, anyways.

Dokja would soon join us for dinner; Sooyoung only ever ate in her office. I raised my hand in greeting when I spotted my companions at our usual table.

My mind lingered on the image of the lone regressor eating in a lamplit storage room.

That night, Dokja climbed into bed next to me. I toyed with the side buttons on my phone. "I've been writing."

"To gain the 'Avatar' skill?"

"Oh," I said with a frown. "No, but that's a good idea. I've been writing my story of surviving in this world. I want to write our story of the next turn, too."

Dokja looked serene as he tucked a lock of my hair behind one ear. "I'd like to read them both."

"I'm not really a skilled writer." I tried not to let my embarrassment show. "And the story of this turn is more of a journal, of sorts, anyhow. The next turn is the real story."

His eyebrows shot up. "Is it now?"

"It's of us. Everyone loves a great love story."

He pressed his lips to my temple. "That story is going right up there next to Ways of Survival."

I gave him a playful shove. "Liar."

Dojka merely smiled and lifted my hand to kiss my fingertips. "When will you regress?"

I hesitated. I had a way, but I wasn't sure if it was the best option. More than that, I was conflicted about leaving everyone behind. I loved my companions in the 1863rd dearly; we had fought and bled and lived side by side through so much now. I wasn't ready to leave them yet.

Plus, there was that one teensy little problem I had.

"I'm not sure," I said at last. He nodded like it was expected. And, well, for him—it probably was.

I set my phone aside and nestled against Dokja. He clicked off the lamp and tugged me closer. I thought of tomorrow and the trials we would have to face in the coming days. My body twisted until I faced him.

The moonlight cast shadows across his face. I kissed him, and said, "I wish you could stay." Of course, Kim Dokja, you could never remain here. I knew this.

In response, he pulled me back in. He kissed me like he had done it a thousand times before. "Know that I love you, Yeona," he murmured against my lips.

Though I was sure of my feelings, as sure as the sky housed the stars and the moon rose at dusk, I didn't say it back. I didn't need to. For now, our love was dissonant, an illogical overlapping of time and worldlines. 

I settled back in my spot. His last words echoed throughout my mind. In a sudden sickness, I had the terrible sense that something was different between us in the next turn. I pressed my forehead against his chest to will the feeling away.

But my dreams were restless.

Next part ->

A/N: What do you get when you have a pining and love-starved Choi Yeona + a selfish and guilty-in-love Kim Dokja? The escapades of Chapter -1!

This was getting way too long so the rest will be grouped in with Chapter 0 [Interlude].

[crescenthistory]

heh-the anon who said i js sent my first ask and now this is my second!!!!

ok so....is there anything from the 2K event YOU want to write/expand on? like smt YOU wanna do.....cause this is me telling u to do it <3

i love everything youve written so far and i think you should write smt that you kinda wanna do....if that makes sense....not saying ur not happy abt ALL of the asks-i can tell u love ur readers-but js, smt you want to do yk?

this is SO sweet of you my dearest anon, thank you so so much<33 hahaha it's silly but you make me feel seen, thank you for daring to send asks! proud of you. in general, i want to write more drabbles for the valkyries, but i've also had magical!dealer!remus on my mind lately, so that's what we're going for !

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will EXPLAIN magical!dealer!remus

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: kind of drugs but it's mostly magical, systemic injustice, wizarding war without casualties

remus who can't get a stable job seemingly anywhere in the wizarding world because he's a registered lycanthrope

despite the fact that he essentially helped save the entire wizarding world with the rest of his friends – most of which were offered honorary positions in the ministry for their efforts

not remus

he was dirt poor, burnt out and pessimistic about life and institutions

james and sirius tried to various extents to help support him financially, but he would not accept it unless he physically had to

he lived with sirius without paying rent but tried his best not to think about it – especially because after the war he couldn't really stand being away from his friends

still:

"i'm not your charity case, prongs, you have a kid to look after"

"i don't want you to use me to pay off your sins sirius"

"i can take care of myself"

i think he would angrily say "fuck this shit" for a while and work in a muggle bookshop in london while

and maybe he would even enjoy the reprieve

but he would quickly feel isolated

in the wizarding world, he feels that he is not fully understood because he's a werewolf, but in the muggle world he has to even hide the fact that he's a wizard

he winds up applying to random jobs in wizarding london again, everything from shopkeeps and waitressing to pharmacies

throughout his life, remus has used a lot of different medications, ranging from potions to muggle medication to various ~herbs for pain relief

and at hogwarts he always made sure he did as well as physically possible to "make up" for being otherwise highly unemployable

he particularly excelled in DADA, potions and herbology, for obvious reasons

at some point when struggling to pay for the super overprized ingredients he need for the next full moon at an official apothecary that had rejected his application weeks prior, i think a bulb would go off in his head

he would more or less run home to sirius and they would have this conversation:

"if i were to start a business, would you sponsor me?"

"i've been trying to shove money down your throat for years moons, you already know this"

"would you be willing to get your money dirty?"

".... go on"

remus pitches this: he opens a "chocolate store" on the outskirts of diagon alley to serve as a front for him dealing various magical and non-magical herbs, potions, medication, drugs. etc.

everything and anything that unconventional wix could need to get through life that's hard to access

whether that be other werewolves, other "half-breeds", those with permanent magical injuries/conditions that the ministry ignores, those with ptsd from the war, etc.

you need to show registrations or prescriptions to get most lycanthropy potions, pain remedies, etc. which makes it hard to get for anyone flying under the radar or too poor for medical documents

not with remus – anyone can come in and ask for anything

thus, a form of dealership

his intentions are 1) be anti-establishment and say f u to the minister 2) supply the people with what they need without the hellish and discriminatory bureaucracy of the ministry

(unless kingsley becomes the minister in this au, in which he would begin working on the problems from the inside while turning a blind eye to remus' endeavors)

i think remus would also have a designated section for helping treat addiction of different sorts

his pitch stretched on for forever but sirius was with him from essentially his first word

"hold up, i need to rope james into this"

james immediately suggests that the front store should be called "moony's delights"

"... i'll think about it"

the front store would serve as a regular chocolate shop to the average bypasser, so there would often be children stopping by getting chocolate

remus would sell regular chocolate – that i imagine marylily help bring to life – to regular customers

but his real services were to the non-regular wix, for which he's got stacks on stacks of alternative chocolates, in addition to his shelves upon shelves of ingredients and potions

i imagine remus fetches most of the ingredients and brews most of the potions himself, utilising all his expertise

for once, he allows his friends to join in because in his mind they're not just helping him but also the greater good

lily becomes his partner who helps with both chocolates and potions

molly prewett/weasley grows some of the herbs lol

sirius and james supply both any legal patents they need to put down to get a shop and then they preemptively set up a team of top notch lawyers for protection

by the time remus gets around to this, one of the best educated lawyers is their dearest order-member emmeline vance who is more than happy to help out

i believe frank longbottom could be her apprentice

the order of the phoenix remained close friends and kept an "it takes a village" mentality to everything, whether that be getting friends back on their feet or raising the little baby phoenixs

(because they fought way too hard to keep this village to not utilise it to its fullest extent)

it takes a while to get the shop up and running efficiently, of course

at first it's something you need to have heard about from a friend, but as it surges in popularity, more and more wix know where they need to go if they need a fix of any kind

within the "underworld" of the wizarding society, i believe word spread the fastest

and perhaps the knowledge that "moony's delights" sold potions and herbs specifically for various "half breeds" may be contained to just this underworld

while more everyday wix know that they can get general pain relief or help chilling the fuck out

there are so many reader insert ideas i have within this au that could be requested

customer!reader would be fun, but so would business partner!reader who is brought in by lily or emmeline and eventually falls in love with remus

in general i think little punk remus lupin would 100% open a semi-secret dealership while the marauders and co protect him

[edenesth]

Midnight Fiction

Pairing: Wooyoung x fem!reader

AU: non-idol au

Word Count: 10.4k

Summary: One restless night, craving an escape from reality, you and Wooyoung lose yourselves to the captivating realms of your favourite fantasy worlds. Together, you traverse through the wonder of Narnia, the magic of Middle-earth, and the enchantment of Hogwarts.

A/N: Just a random little self-indulgent oneshot inspired by ILLIT's Midnight Fiction, song's been on repeat for me. These images have been flashing through my mind whenever I listen to it, so I'm taking this chance to experiment with writing The Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter AUs.

ATEEZ Masterlist

Don't you just hate it when you're caught in that limbo of feeling too cold without a blanket and too hot with one? Don't you just hate it when you lie in bed for what feels like an eternity, teetering on the edge of slumber, only to snap awake again? Don't you just hate when your room begins to feel stifling from restlessness, leaving you searching for that elusive perfect spot on your bed?

Don't you just hate it when it feels like the whole world is asleep while you're wide awake? You do, don't you?

Fortunately for you, tonight, you weren't alone in this plight. The person lying beside you, your best friend, your soulmate, your better half—your everything—seemed to be stuck in the same predicament.

"Trouble sleeping, love?"

In an instant, the weight lifted as you turned to gaze at the love of your life, awake beside you. "Yes, Woo, but at least I'm not alone," you whispered, smiling. He smiled back, extending an arm towards you in invitation. You pouted, your heart brimming with affection for this man, and immediately shifted into his welcoming embrace, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

He sighed contentedly, tightening his hold around you, and peppering your face with tender kisses. "Perhaps sleep isn't on the agenda tonight. What do you say we find another way to pass the time?" His playful grin met your curious gaze.

You chuckled softly. "And what mischief do you have in store, my dearest Mr. Jung?"

With a playful boop to your nose, he grinned. "Would you care to embark on an adventure with me, my lady? Somewhere far from this suffocating room, perhaps?"

Bursting into a fit of giggles at his playful imitation of old-fashioned speech, you leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips. Pulling back, you played along, "Oh, you present such an irresistible offer. How could I possibly refuse, my lord?"

He bit his lip, feeling his heart melt at how swiftly you caught on. Wooyoung had always been an exuberant individual, often overwhelming others with his energy and antics, but never with you. You were the sole person in the world who truly understood him. You shared the same interests and personalities, the only disparity being that you were a slightly calmer version of him.

If soulmates existed, he was certain you were at the other end of the red strings of fate binding him to you. You had to be.

Pressing his lips to yours once more, relishing the closeness, he pulled back slightly to catch his breath. "Well, come on then, love. Let's not waste any time. Adventure awaits us."

You squealed in delight as he leapt out of bed, swiftly yanking the sheets off you and exposing you to the cool air. With a playful tug on your leg, he pulled you into his arms as you steadied yourself against his chest, adjusting to the sudden movement after hours of lying still.

"I hope you're ready, my lady."

"You bet your ass I am, sire. Let's do this!"

"Seriously, Woo? This is the adventure you were referring to? A place far from our suffocating bedroom?" you asked incredulously as he swung open the doors to his absurdly large wardrobe in the spare room of your shared apartment. It was where your boyfriend housed his prized collection of branded apparel, insisting on keeping them separate from his everyday wear.

He flashed you a cheeky grin, flicking on the torchlight he'd brought with him and shining it upwards towards his face in the classic fashion of someone about to tell ghost stories. "Oh, come on, this could be fun. It'll be like seven minutes in heaven."

You snorted at his suggestion, watching as he crawled into the space, carefully shifting aside his hanging clothes. Crossing your arms teasingly, you quipped, "With a whole apartment at our disposal, why do we need to squeeze into a tiny space for some fun?"

Once settled inside, he extended a hand to you. "Don't pretend you're not thrilled about this. I see right through you. Come on, love," he urged, and your façade melted away like chocolate. With a grin as childlike as his, you slipped your hand into his and allowed him to draw you into the cramped space.

Amidst endless giggles, you squeezed your way in beside him. When he finally managed to shut the doors, you turned to him eagerly. "Okay, so what now?"

"Now, let the magic begin," he whispered, leaning in for a soft kiss. You sighed contentedly, running a hand through his hair as you kissed him back. But before the romantic moment could fully unfold, true to his nature, Wooyoung reached around your waist and began to tickle you. You shrieked, pulling away to playfully slap him. "S-stop it, you menace! I sh-should've known!"

As you tried to push him away from you, you found yourself instinctively scooting back. But instead of feeling the familiar barrier of the wardrobe's end, you noticed an unusual expanse of space behind you. "W-wait, Woo! S-something's not right—" Before you could finish your sentence, a loud gasp escaped you as you felt a cold touch on your back.

What in the world.

Finally, your boyfriend ceased his actions, freezing in his spot with wide eyes. Following his gaze, you turned your head and felt your breath hitch at the unbelievable sight of a winter wonderland before your eyes.

Swiftly, he rolled off you and helped you up to your feet, clad in bedroom slippers, both of you taking tentative steps into the snow. Your gazes met in wide-eyed astonishment as the chill of this new world immediately embraced you. "Woo, could we be in...?" you began, while he hurriedly threw on an expensive coat before draping another snugly over your shoulders.

Ensuring you were sufficiently warm, he reached for your hand and led you forward. "Only one way to find out."

Your hearts raced as you ventured deeper into the breathtaking snow-covered forest. Glancing back, you felt relief upon seeing the back of Wooyoung's wardrobe still there. As he squeezed your hand, you followed his gaze, and your face lit up with recognition as you approached the lamppost before you.

Locking eyes with each other, you whispered in unison, "Narnia."

Squealing with excitement, the two of you began to jump around. Your boyfriend started rambling, "Oh my god, do you think we'll get to meet Mr. Tumnus? Or maybe Mr. and Mrs. Beaver?"

You laughed and shook your head. "I don't know, but I really hope I get to see King Edmund, at least... or even Prince Caspian, if we're that far in the story already."

He scoffed. "Of course, you'd want to."

You playfully smacked his arm. "Hey! Don't pretend you're not also dying to meet the gorgeous High Queen Susan!"

Feeling a presence, you both turned to find a very unexpected character greeting you upon arrival. Standing before you in all his glory was Aslan, The Great Lion, the creator and one true king of the world of Narnia. Your boyfriend stilled, then pulled you down onto your knees beside him. "It's an honour to meet you, sir. I'm Wooyoung, son of Adam," he said, introducing himself, before introducing you as a daughter of Eve.

Aslan nodded in acknowledgement. "Welcome to Narnia; we have been expecting you," he began, catching you off guard.

"You have...?" you asked in disbelief.

The lion confirmed, "Yes, you are both here to fulfil the Golden Age prophecy."

Wooyoung sputtered, "W-we are...? Isn't the prophecy about two boys and two girls, with your help, ending the evil witch's rule?"

Aslan clarified, "That is correct, but you've left out one final thing; it includes two seers who can tell the future. With your help, we will defeat Jadis without a problem."

At that, you and your boyfriend exchanged a knowing smile. Of course, you were both the seers; you already knew how the story goes. Armed with this knowledge, you were equipped to guide them through their quest to defeat the White Witch even more seamlessly than before.

With a graceful motion, the lion lowered himself to the ground. "Now, if you'll both get on my back, we'll head back to the camp where everyone is preparing for battle." Excitement surged through you both, and without hesitation, you climbed aboard. As the journey commenced, you marvelled at the breathtaking scenery around you. With each passing moment, you noticed the snow melting away, a clear sign of Jadis' spell fading and the return of goodness, heralding Aslan's triumphant return.

As you and your boyfriend rode on the lion's back, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you both. It was surreal to realise that you were actually in the magical land you had both fantasised about since childhood. The realisation dawned on you that this wasn't just a dream—it was happening, right now.

Feelings of excitement, wonder, and disbelief mingled within you, threatening to overwhelm your senses. But typical Wooyoung being Wooyoung, he couldn't resist his mischievous nature. Sitting behind you, he tightened his hold on your waist and whispered in your ear, "How do you think he'd react if we told him he's fictional?" Your jaws dropped, and you shot him a glare, elbowing him in the gut and causing him to groan. "Now, why would you do that?"

But it didn't take long before you both burst into giggles. Despite his knack for mischief, you couldn't help but be grateful for his presence. You couldn't envision exploring the magical world of Narnia with anyone else but Jung Wooyoung by your side.

As you reached the camp, embarrassment flooded you as all the creatures—centaurs, fauns, and more—stared at you and Wooyoung in your mismatched attire. You couldn't help but feel awkward in your pyjamas paired with your boyfriend's branded coat and bedroom slippers. Before you could dwell on it, everyone began kneeling in greeting as you passed by.

"Welcome, seers of Narnia," greeted the voices in unison as you arrived at the main tent where the four Pevensie siblings stood waiting, your hearts pounded with excitement and nerves. Here you were, finally meeting your childhood crushes. Clumsily, you introduced yourselves before watching the crowd disperse.

Blushing under Peter and Edmund's curious gazes, you were relieved when Susan stepped forward with a chuckle. "Come on, both of you. Let's get you into some proper clothes. We know how it feels; we've been in your shoes on our first day here," she reassured. Wooyoung chuckled in agreement, "Yeah, we know that."

Lucy's eyes widened in awe. "Of course, you're the seers. You must know everything. Tell us, how does it all work?"

Blinking rapidly with pursed lips, you and your boyfriend struggled to find a suitable response. After all, revealing that your knowledge came from books or movies wouldn't be appropriate. Breaking the fourth wall so easily could spoil the adventure and make you both seem uncool. It was best to keep the magic alive, even if it meant inventing some details on the spot.

"Uh, well... it's, uh, complicated," your boyfriend stammered, his mind scrambling for a creative explanation.

Peter cleared his throat, exchanging a glance with his youngest sister. "Not now, Lucy. They must be overwhelmed. We should let them get changed and settle down first."

Nodding in agreement, Edmund gestured to a smaller tent beside Aslan's. "Right this way, please. We've prepared your outfits."

You had to suppress a squeal; the brothers were even more attractive in person. Though this version of King Edmund was still a child and not the king you admired in the later movies, it was still him, and you couldn't help feeling bashful. As if to remind you of who you truly belonged to, Wooyoung slid his arm around your waist. "Come on, love. Let's get changed." It was then that all four siblings realised that unlike them, you were lovers.

Emerging from the tent with Susan and Lucy's help, you felt slightly awkward in the medieval-styled gown, uncertain how to manage its intricate design. Meanwhile, your boyfriend had finished much sooner, dressed in a simple outfit of pants and a tunic. His lively voice echoed from inside the tent as you dressed, likely engaging poor Peter and Edmund with his talkative nature.

As you stepped out, his voice trailed off as he took in the sight of you in the purple gown with your hair braided halfway and the rest left down. Though not extravagant, you knew he found it beautiful; his stunned expression told you that much.

Susan giggled at his reaction, while you blushed slightly. "Shall we have something to eat, and break the ice before we begin our training?" she suggested.

You raised a brow. "Training?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, preparations for the battle against the White Witch's army. I know you're both here as our seers, but it's wise to be ready to defend yourselves too."

Wooyoung nodded in understanding. "Right, well, we'll accept the food then. We'll need our strength for training."

Gathered around a small table on the field, you shared a simple meal, just enough to provide energy for training. Keeping a straight face was a challenge as your boyfriend animatedly spun a tale for the Pevensie siblings about how you both received visions of the future.

"Yeah, it's not something we control. Sometimes it comes in dreams, other times as random visions. It's tricky... a gift and a curse, really," he elaborated.

Struggling to suppress your amusement, you watched as the siblings listened in awe. Concealing your laughter behind a cough, you nudged Wooyoung in the side, giving him a glare and mouthing, "Enough!"

The mood turned serious as Lucy nervously inquired, "Have you seen how this will all end? Will we triumph over the evil witch?" You were aware of the obstacles lying ahead, including Aslan's sacrifice to save Edmund for his earlier betrayal, and the battle feeling like a lost cause. Despite these daunting prospects, you knew you had to offer reassurance to keep their spirits up.

Taking this as your cue to speak, you smiled and nodded at the youngest Pevensie sibling. "Yes, little one. You—no, we—will emerge victorious. The path to victory may be fraught with challenges, but we'll be here to help you every step of the way."

After the meal, the guys geared up to train their sword skills, while the girls prepared for archery practice. Just before joining the guys, Wooyoung pulled you close.

"Have I told you how much I adore the way you talk to children, love?" he whispered.

You rolled your eyes, a smile playing on your lips. "Now's not the time for this, Woo; they're waiting for us."

He grinned at the pink blush on your cheeks. "Fine, I'll go if you want me to so badly. By the way, you look beautiful," he whispered, planting a kiss on your cheek before darting off to join Peter and Edmund.

Turning around, you noticed Susan and Lucy snickering after witnessing the exchange, and you couldn't help but bite your lip bashfully. "Come. Off to training, we go."

After hours of practice, you discovered a potential talent in archery. Susan raised an impressed brow. "Huh, you seem quite skilled at this. We were worried for nothing; you'll do just fine on the battlefield."

You beamed. "I sure hope so."

As the girls continued their drills, your gaze kept drifting to the guys training across the river. Despite the presence of the handsome High King Peter and King Edmund, your attention remained fixed on your silly boyfriend who was earnestly attempting to wield his sword. He looked comical, but that was part of his charm.

"You're in love," Lucy's voice snapped you out of your reverie. Flustered, you nodded. "Why yes, little one. I am in love."

Susan smiled, joining the conversation. "So is he. You two look perfect together. Say, how did you meet?"

Your mind flashed back to your first encounter with Wooyoung. He had been at the next table when you were stood up by a blind date, rambling away loudly with a friend. Annoyed, you turned to him, asking, "Will you please lower your voice?! Not everyone is interested in your opinion on love at first sight!" Ironically, that was how he claimed to have fallen in love with you.

Chuckling at the memory, you decided not to share the full story with the girls. Given the temporal gap between your world and theirs, you reckoned they might not grasp the nuances of your relationship with Wooyoung. Instead, you offered a simplified version of how you met, emphasising the humour in the situation. They laughed with you, and soon the conversation shifted back to practice.

As the story progressed, you and your boyfriend grew closer to the Pevensie siblings, guiding them through every challenge just like rewatching the movie. Together, you avoided certain pitfalls and reassured them that everything would turn out well in the end.

On the night before the decisive battle, you would leave to stay with the girls to witness Aslan's sacrifice for Edmund. Wooyoung held you close, knowing that the next time you saw each other would be on the battlefield the following day. "Be careful, love," he whispered, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, returning the sentiment. "You too, Woo. You remember how the battle goes, right? Stick by Edmund's side and ensure Jadis doesn't harm him. Or better yet, get him out of that area. Just don't let her get the chance to stab him."

He grinned confidently. "You worry too much. I'll protect your precious King Edmund, don't you worry about a thing."

You scoffed, slapping him lightly. "I have to go now. I'll see you."

He couldn't resist capturing your lips in a loving kiss before letting you go. "Go, the girls need you," he urged softly.

As Susan and Lucy wept on your shoulders after witnessing Aslan's sacrifice, you held them tightly, offering whatever comfort you could. With tears clouding her voice, the younger sibling questioned, "How can things still be okay after this? He's gone... How can we possibly win the war without him?"

Gently stroking her tear-stained cheeks, you reassured her, "Trust me, he knows what he's doing. This will all work out in our favour. Just you wait and see, little one."

Susan regarded you with her typical scepticism. "Are you sure?"

Your nod was firm. "Absolutely."

Quietly, you watched as they clung to the lion after the enemies dispersed to prepare for battle. As dawn approached, you motioned for them to join you. "It's almost time. Come."

With furrowed brows, they approached cautiously. "Time for what...?"

Your smile was knowing as the ground trembled and the Stone Table shattered, leaving behind only a vacant space where Aslan had been. "For this," you declared, pointing to the now-empty surface.

Their eyes widened in disbelief as Aslan reappeared before them, alive and well. You watched with a sense of satisfaction as he explained his strategy, how he had fooled the White Witch.

Eager to reunite with your lover, you interjected, "Well, let's not waste any more time. We still have one final task: freeing our friends still trapped in Jadis' Castle."

Aslan nodded in agreement. "You're right, seer. We must act swiftly."

After rescuing Mr. Tumnus and the others, you hurried to the battlefield. Upon arrival, Aslan let out a loud roar as if to announce his presence. Spotting Peter engaged in a sword fight with the White Witch, you frantically scanned the area for the second youngest Pevensie and Wooyoung.

Time seemed to slow as the lion leapt down to save the high king from Jadis before ultimately defeating her. Alongside the girls, you raced down the hill to join them. Sharing Susan's concerned expression, you asked, "Where's Edmund and my—"

Peter noticed your worry, eyes rounding in realisation as he dashed off in a direction, with the rest of you following. Arriving just in time, you witnessed Ginarrbrik, the witch's manservant, poised to strike what appeared to be Edmund kneeling beside a fallen figure. Susan swiftly shot the dwarf down with an arrow, prompting you to rush forward.

To your horror, instead of finding the injured king as in the story, it was Wooyoung lying there, clutching his abdomen. Edmund explained, "I'm sorry. I should've listened to him when he told me to run. He shielded me when the witch attacked."

Turning to the youngest, you urgently requested, "Lucy! The cordial from Father Christmas, please!" She handed it over, and you watched anxiously as Wooyoung swallowed a drop. Slowly, colour returned to his face, and he opened his eyes. "Hey, love."

Tears of relief and anger filled your eyes as you hugged him tightly. "Don't 'hey' me! You scared me half to death, you idiot!"

He chuckled and hugged you back. "I thought you were more worried about him. But I saved him, didn't I?"

You tightened your grip on him. "Yes, but not like this, Jung Wooyoung."

"Must you really leave?" Queen Lucy's voice carried a hint of sadness as you and your boyfriend prepared to depart after the royal coronation. You struggled with how to explain to her that your departure signalled the end of this chapter of the story, though you dared not utter those words outright.

Seeing her crestfallen expression, clearly still reeling from Aslan's departure, made it even harder to say goodbye. You offered her a comforting smile and gently patted her head. "I'm sorry, Lu. But we really must go. Our journey isn't over yet."

"But where will you go?" the child's voice quivered with uncertainty.

Your boyfriend's grin was reassuring. "Ah, that's our secret. But rest assured, we won't forget you or the adventures we've shared."

After bidding farewell to all the characters from the first instalment of The Chronicles of Narnia, you and Wooyoung returned to the exact spot where you had entered the world. Hand in hand, your steps slowed as you approached the familiar lamppost that had greeted you upon your arrival.

"So, how was that for an adventure?" Wooyoung asked, breaking the silence as he pulled you close to him.

You melted into his embrace, a smile spreading across your face. "It was amazing."

He smirked, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Really? But you didn't even get to steal King Edmund's heart."

You couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Oh, stop it, you!"

He chuckled, his tone turning slightly more serious. "I guess it was fun being new characters in a story. But wouldn't it be nice to live the main characters' lives instead?"

You gently pulled away, taking his hand and leading him back towards his wardrobe. "I suppose it would be, Woo. Let's go."

Be careful what you wish for; that adage couldn't have been more accurate. As you ventured through the wardrobe with your boyfriend trailing behind, your eyes widened in astonishment when you emerged into a scene completely unlike your shared apartment. Taking in the surroundings, you recognised the breathtaking interior of Rivendell, or Imladris in Elven-Tongue, a place you had always dreamed of from the Lord of the Rings.

"Woo?" you called out, but he wasn't there.

Instead, you found yourself face to face with a mirror, and you gasped at your reflection. You recognised the Elvish features, reaching up to touch your pointed ears and the long hair cascading below your waist. The elegant gown confirmed your suspicions: you were Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar. But if you were Arwen, then that would mean your boyfriend was the Ranger of the North.

That fool... he jinxed it.

Unlike in Narnia, you weren't a new character here. Suddenly, you were hit with a surge of sorrow, as if you were experiencing Arwen's emotions firsthand. Her father's disapproval of her love for Aragorn, a mortal, echoed within you, reminding you of the struggles you faced with your own parents. The memories flooded in, replacing those of Arwen and Aragorn with moments between you and Wooyoung, making the situation feel eerily real. It brought back the times when your parents had opposed your relationship, insisting you deserved someone better.

You immediately realised the part of the story you were in. The War of the Ring raged on, and evil spread throughout Middle-earth. Your father, Lord Elrond, had been urging you to depart for the Undying Lands, a place of safety far from the conflict. However, the thought of leaving your lover, who was on a quest to fight evil and protect Frodo, the Ring-bearer, filled you with reluctance.

Just like in the story, you faced the dilemma of choosing between your immortal heritage and your love for a mortal. The parallels between your situation and that of Arwen and Aragorn were striking, and it sent shivers down your spine. You knew how it went in the tale; she eventually gave up her immortality to be with him. It was almost uncanny how similar it was to your reality, where you had fought fiercely to be with Wooyoung despite your parents' objections, which left you currently with a strained relationship with them.

Standing in the familiar area filled you with a sense of dread. This was the moment where Aragorn would soon depart for battle, and where he would tell Arwen to leave for the Undying Lands for her own good. But now, with Wooyoung by your side, you knew things would be different.

Despite the eerie familiarity of the scene, you felt a newfound determination. As if guided by some unseen force, you approached the spot where Aragorn and Arwen would have their fateful conversation. This time, though, you were ready to make a different choice.

As you approached Wooyoung, your heart raced with fear and urgency. "Woo! Why didn't you come to find me? Were you really going to leave like he did?" The dread you felt wasn't just Arwen's; it was yours too. You realised this when he let out a deep breath and met your gaze with a seriousness that sent chills down your spine.

"You know, maybe your parents had a point," he began, his words cutting through the air. "You are their daughter after all, and that will never change. I'm just another guy you're dating, and guys come and go. Perhaps it's not so rational for you to ruin your relationship with your parents just for an outsider like me. Besides, maybe you do deserve someone much better."

Your heart sank as his words washed over you, and you frowned in disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about?! We both know what Elrond said to Aragorn right before this scene. Don't tell me that silly little talk really had you doubting our reality?"

He sighed heavily, his expression pained. "But is he wrong, though? Maybe Arwen was a fool for staying... In the end, Aragorn dies of old age anyway, and she continues to live on in sorrow. What if our reality isn't that far off? Maybe it'll only end in pain?"

His words pierced your heart like a dagger, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. The weight of his doubts and uncertainties pressed down on you, threatening to suffocate you. But deep down, you knew that despite the risks and the potential for pain, your love for him was worth fighting for.

Gathering yourself, you took a deep breath to steady your thoughts before speaking. "I understand you might be influenced by Aragorn's feelings, just as I am by Arwen's. But deep down, I know you don't truly mean what you're saying. Regardless, we both know how this story unfolds in the end. If you must go, then go. I'll see you soon. Have fun beating up the bad guys, Woo."

A hush fell between you both as he absorbed your words, his tough exterior crumbling. Regret clouded his features as he stepped closer, reaching for your hands. "Wait, you're right. I... I must have been too swept up in Aragorn's emotions. I'm so sorry, love."

You smiled, gently cupping his face. "You said it yourself, how nice it would be to live the lives of the main characters. Look at how it turned out, huh?" you teased, and he flushed with embarrassment. "God, I'm such an idiot."

You smirked. "You always have been."

He grinned. "Well, now that we're the main characters, perhaps we can reshape the story and make it our own. You've always dreamed of being in Rivendell. Let's use this opportunity to explore the place."

You scoffed, though a spark of excitement ignited within you at his suggestion. "But don't you have to leave for battle?"

He rolled his eyes. "Gurl, Sauron and his army of clowns can wait. Now, come on."

Hand intertwined with his, you dashed through the exquisite halls of Elrond's house. Your heart soared as you absorbed the surreal surroundings, the sight of Wooyoung's reassuring presence ahead of you filling you with joy. This was the very scenario you had dreamt of for so long – being in this fantastical place with the one you loved.

Your steps faltered as you reached what seemed to be the area where the Council of Elrond took place, where the Fellowship of the Ring was first formed.

"We're actually here, holy crap," Wooyoung muttered in amazement.

You couldn't help but giggle. "Is that cooler than the fact that you're Aragorn? Speaking of which, I'm so envious of you."

He raised a brow. "For what? You get to hang around here and look so beautiful all the time while I go out and fight evil."

You nodded. "Yeah, but you get to be with Legolas all the time."

He snorted in disbelief. "Unbelievable... I'm never letting you near him. First, King Edmund, and now the blonde elf."

You pouted. "Pfft, it's not like there's ever been anything between Arwen and Legolas. You have nothing to worry about. Plus, you'll have Éowyn falling at your feet later on. Let's hope you still remember me by then."

He sputtered at that. "In case you forgot, she got rejected anyway."

You scoffed. "Yes, but that was Aragorn. The same can't be said for you."

His jaw dropped. "What—hey! You're the only one for me, no matter the universe!" he insisted as you continued walking, grinning in satisfaction for catching him off guard as you moved on to the next location.

"Ah, this is where that iconic scene took place," your boyfriend remarked as you stepped onto the moonlit bridge, reminiscent of the moment when Arwen handed her necklace, the Evenstar, to Aragorn. It symbolises her love and defiance against her father, signifying her choice to give up her immortality to be with him.

Standing in the same spot as the characters in the movie, you watched as he retrieved the jewellery from his pocket. "Come, my lady. Would you like to recreate that scene?" he asked playfully, holding out the pendant.

Meeting his gaze, you took a deep breath before reciting your favourite line, "I would rather share one lifetime with you... than face all the ages of the world alone."

At that moment, the playfulness faded from his expression, and he sensed a deeper meaning behind your words, a reflection of your genuine emotions toward each other. Recalling a past conversation where you admitted that without him, you might have chosen not to love at all, he was deeply moved. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to yours, conveying his affection. Pulling back slightly, he grinned, "That has to be the most romantic thing you've ever said to me. Can you say that to me every once in a while?"

You chuckled, giving him a playful smack on the chest. "If that's what it takes to stop you from annoying me, then yes."

"Hey!" he protested, chasing after you as you ran off to explore other areas of Rivendell.

As you wandered, you recognised the next destination instantly—it was where Aragorn dreamed of his time with Arwen. With a grin, Wooyoung sauntered over and lay down on the futon, attempting to recreate the scene once again. You stood where the she-elf had stood, watching him pretend to wake up.

"I am asleep. This is a dream," he recited Aragorn's words, and you burst into a small giggle. Settling down beside him, you recited Arwen's line, "Then it is a good dream. Sleep," before leaning down to kiss him as she had.

Deep down, you both wished to stay in this fantasy forever, but you knew you had to part for the story to progress. He sighed as you pulled away. "As much as I'd love to keep staying here with you, the war isn't going to win itself. I'll see you at the end of the story."

You nodded, kissing him again. "See you, Woo." He winked as he got up from his spot. "Don't worry, I won't spare Éowyn a glance."

Laughing, you waved as you watched him go.

You anticipated what was to come next, knowing that it was the day when most of the elves in Rivendell would depart for Valinor, the Undying Lands. It was the moment when Elrond would once again attempt to persuade Arwen to go with them.

As you lay on the futon in your room, watching the white curtains flutter gently in the breeze, you prepared yourself for the inevitable. Just as your thoughts turned to your boyfriend, your father entered, speaking in Sindarin, the Elven language. Remarkably, you comprehended every word.

"It is time. The ships are departing for Valinor. Go now... before it is too late."

Oh boy, here we go.

You immediately sat up from your position to respond, "I have already made my choice." Elrond took a step closer to you. "He is not coming back. Why do you linger here when there is no hope?" You gazed up at him, overwhelmed by the emotions flowing through your being that were Arwen's, as you answered, "There is still hope."

Because you knew there was.

As he continued his monologue, which you had already heard more than once and knew was coming, it still hurt. His words reminded you that no matter what, choosing to be with Aragorn—or in your case, Wooyoung—would only lead to pain. Tears streamed down your cheeks, his words echoing the sentiments you had heard from your parents when they desperately tried to separate you and your boyfriend, telling you he could not offer you much and that you would only end up regretting your decision.

"There is nothing for you here. Only death," he uttered, and your heart broke despite expecting those words. The words sounded eerily familiar to what you had heard in a different context, where Wooyoung would not be able to bring you everlasting happiness and his perceived incompetence would eventually disappoint you.

No, that's not true...

But you felt a new emotion when Elrond sat down beside you, looking down at you with so much pain in his eyes. You could see he was not ready to lose his daughter. It must have been cruel for him that his daughter was choosing to die and leave his side.

He wiped your tears away gently. "Do I not also have your love?"

For once, you empathised with his feelings and wondered if this was how your parents felt. You used to view Elrond as the bad guy for constantly trying to separate his daughter from the man she loved. Were your parents also like him? Were they afraid of losing you? Maybe they just didn't know your boyfriend well enough and didn't trust him yet to take care of you. You felt yourself crumbling under the weight of these thoughts.

"You have my love, father," you cried as he enveloped you in his arms. Perhaps you were a bad daughter, not for choosing to be with Wooyoung, but for failing to help your parents understand why you chose him.

If you couldn't ease your parents' worries in reality, perhaps you could do it here for your fictional father. You were certain Wooyoung would understand; none of this was real anyway. He was still yours, and you would always be his. Maybe, just maybe here, you could be a good daughter to Elrond.

Joining the rest of the elves and making your way towards the ship to Valinor, you couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty gnawing at you. Despite your initial determination to stand firm in your decision to pick your boyfriend, you found yourself swept along with the crowd. Just like Arwen, you were heading towards the Undying Lands.

However, unlike her, you didn't have the vision of her child with Aragorn to sway your decision. You already knew how her story ended. Perhaps it was up to you to create a different ending.

Forgive me, Woo.

As the story reached its climax and the victory over Sauron marked the beginning of a new era for Middle-earth, everything seemed to pass in a blur. Finally, it was Aragorn's coronation in Minas Tirith, and Wooyoung turned around excitedly after Gandalf placed the crown on his head. Throughout the events, he had fun experiencing what the ranger did, but his thoughts were consumed by you. Maybe living the lives of the main characters was more burdensome than enjoyable.

After exchanging words with Legolas and anticipating your arrival, Wooyoung turned expectantly, only to find you missing. You did not appear the way Arwen did for Aragorn. The realisation dawned on him with dread—if you weren't there, it could only mean you must have left for Valinor. He approached Lord Elrond, whose expression remained unreadable, and asked, "Did she...?"

As your father bowed his head slightly and offered a pat on the shoulder, Wooyoung's heart sank like a stone. The weight of the realisation pressed down on him: you had chosen to leave. But why?

What had prompted you to go, despite your promise to reunite with him here? Had Elrond's words swayed you? Did they somehow make you see that perhaps your parents had been right all along? You had warned him not to let the emotions of his character overwhelm him, but had you succumbed to them yourself? These questions swirled in his mind, leaving him grasping for answers.

"She hoped you'd understand," Elrond said.

Your boyfriend offered a humourless smirk. "That I'd understand...? I suppose I do."

"Do you really? Tell me what you understand then," your voice chimed in from behind him, causing him to whirl around with wide eyes. There you stood, a mischievous grin lighting up your face. "Surprise, Jung Wooyoung. Did you think I wasn't going to come back to you?" you whispered, prompting him to cup your face tenderly. "You little minx," he muttered before capturing your lips in a loving kiss, eliciting cheers from the crowd.

As you pulled away and embraced him, you caught sight of your father's gaze. The expression on Lord Elrond’s face as he let his daughter go was a mix of love, fear, and vulnerability. It was the look of a father releasing his child to pursue something he didn’t entirely approve of but knew would bring her happiness. He struggled to maintain his composure, torn between his paternal instincts and the desire to see you happy. That night, you eventually broke away from the group bound for Valinor and returned to Rivendell, much like Arwen did. Your mind was filled with thoughts of Wooyoung, and you knew you could never let him go—neither in your world nor in this one.

"You know, I was just thinking... being the main character really isn't all it's cracked up to be," your boyfriend mused as you both lay in the King's chambers.

With your head nestled on his chest, you nodded, "I agree. It made me feel way too much emotion. But... I do think it's time I talk to my parents about us. They're my parents, and you're the love of my life. I can't imagine life without either of you. Hopefully, they'll be as understanding as Elrond was."

He smiled, pulling you closer, "Yeah, maybe we should have made more effort before."

Cuddling closer to him, you continued, "Yes, maybe... but yeah, we've already played the roles of both new and main characters. Perhaps it'd be nice to simply exist in a story without importance just like extras."

He sighed, kissing your head, "That does sound nice... We'll just be spectators, enjoying our place in the universe."

Closing your eyes, you sensed a peculiar shift in your surroundings, almost like you were on a train. When you opened your eyes again, you furrowed your brows in confusion. You were still in Wooyoung's arms, but Middle-earth was nowhere to be seen.

Shaking your boyfriend awake, you felt his body tense beside you as he tightened his grip on you. With a gasp, he absorbed the new setting. Indeed, you were on a train, but not just any train...

The Hogwarts Express.

Locking eyes, you whispered in unison, "We're going to Hogwarts."

As if on cue, the lady pushing the trolley of sweets appeared, her voice chirping, "Anything from the trolley, dears?"

Before you could decline, Wooyoung swiftly released you and darted forward. "Ooh, yes! Two pumpkin pasties, please! I've always wanted to try them," he exclaimed, rubbing his palms together eagerly.

You tugged at his shirt, glaring, and silently mouthed, "Do we even have any money?" He froze, realisation dawning, and reached into his pockets. With a sigh of relief, he produced some coins. Winking at you, he grinned, "Don't worry, love. I've got this."

As he finished the purchase, he lingered by the door, watching with wide eyes as the lady rolled her trolley to the next compartment. With his jaw dropped in awe, he turned to you, whispering excitedly, "Oh my god, it's Harry Potter! Holy crap, the Golden Trio is in the next compartment."

Rushing back to settle beside you, he handed you a pumpkin pasty and began talking animatedly while stuffing his face, his words muffled, "I recognised that look on him. We're in the fourth year."

You raised a brow, "Goblet of Fire."

He nodded eagerly, "Exactly. The Triwizard Tournament and, most importantly," you both said in unison, "the Yule Ball."

You pondered, "Hold on a second. If we're in the fourth year, then that would mean we've already been sorted. Which houses do you think we're in, Woo?"

He grinned, "Only one way to find out," as he reached for your suitcases from the rack above your seats.

With bated breath, you watched him work on opening them. "Let's hope we're in the same house. It would be funny if you ended up in Slytherin somehow," you remarked.

He scoffed, "No way, I'm a Gryffindor through and through. Wanna bet?"

You shook your head, "No, thank you."

He pouted, "I was going to ask for a kiss if I won the bet, darn it."

You chuckled, "Hurry up, you rascal."

As he opened the first suitcase, he grinned at you, revealing the red Gryffindor scarf along with his uniform. "I told you," he chuckled before moving on to the next one. "Keep your fingers crossed, love," he urged. And you did. When he finally opened them, you couldn't contain your joy at seeing the same scarf along with your robes.

Moments later, the two of you stood in awe at the unbelievable sight of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before your eyes. Your eyes welled with tears as you squeezed Wooyoung's hand. "We're here, Woo. We're really here," you whispered.

He nodded, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "We are."

Before you could continue revelling in the moment, a nearby prefect rolled his eyes. "Move along, you two. You act like it's your first time here," he said with a shake of his head. Your boyfriend tugged you along as you blew a raspberry, muttering under your breath, "Because it is."

Entering the castle, you noticed a crowd gathering by the bridge, evidently anticipating something exciting. Gasping in excitement, you quickly pulled Wooyoung along. "We have to see this! It's the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students."

As the Beauxbatons arrived in their majestic flying carriage and the Durmstrang in their impressive underwater ship, your boyfriend's attention remained solely on you. Sensing his gaze, you turned to share a smile. "That's right, keep your eyes on me just like that. I better not catch you gawking at the Beauxbatons girls when they make their grand entrance later," you teased.

He laughed and drew you close, whispering in your ear, "Don't worry, you're prettier than all of them combined."

Blushing, you looked away. "Pssh, sweet talker," you responded with a playful roll of your eyes, unable to suppress your grin.

But as the girls from the foreign school made their entrance, dancing into the Great Hall later that evening, you couldn't stifle a snort at Wooyoung's reaction. Like Ron, he was clapping enthusiastically, clearly impressed by the display.

Pfft, all men do is lie.

Beside you, Hermione and Ginny exchanged judgemental stares, mirroring your own sentiments. It was hard to contain your amusement as you watched the boys.

When the guys from Durmstrang made their grand entrance, you found yourself staring dreamily ahead, just like Wooyoung had done with the Beauxbatons girls. Thankfully, your boyfriend didn't discriminate; he seemed just as entranced by the dashing and charismatic Viktor Krum as you were.

You burst into giggles when he finally met your gaze with wide eyes. It was his fanboying moment, and you couldn't blame him because you felt exactly the same. You still couldn't believe you were really here with him. Sure, you had already been to Narnia and Middle-earth, but the Wizarding World held a special place in both your hearts.

The next day, seated beside your boyfriend in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, you both observed with amusement as Mad-Eye Moody began his lesson. The students appeared bewildered by his aggressive demeanour and uncomfortable lecture on the three Unforgivable Curses.

Wooyoung leaned in to whisper in your ear, "What do you think would happen if we exposed him as Barty Crouch Jr right here?"

You turned to shush him with a glare. "We're just extras here, so please act like it and avoid drawing any attention to ourselves."

The rest of the class unfolded exactly as you had anticipated, with Harry growing increasingly suspicious of Moody as the professor continued to gulp down his Polyjuice potion. You and Wooyoung exchanged knowing grins, rooting for him.

After class, you both hurried excitedly to the Great Hall, where students interested in participating in the Triwizard Tournament were submitting their names. Settling on a bench, you watched in fascination as the blue flame flickered brightly, students from all three schools stepping forward to cast their papers into the fire.

Your hearts sank when you saw Cedric Diggory eagerly submitting his name. If only he knew the tragic fate that awaited him.

"I suppose there's nothing we can do about it, huh?" Wooyoung asked, his tone heavy with resignation.

You shook your head sadly. "I'm afraid not."

The sombre mood only lasted so long as the Weasley twins, Fred and George, appeared with their usual antics, brandishing their ageing potion in hopes of submitting their names to the Triwizard Tournament despite Hermione's reminder that only seventh-years could participate, you and your boyfriend couldn't contain your laughter. True to your expectations, the twins were ejected back from the goblet, sprouting white beards and sparking a playful fight that drew a crowd of onlookers egging them on.

However, the atmosphere shifted when Viktor Krum marched in with his headmaster trailing behind him. You and Wooyoung shared a giggle as the Durmstrang heartthrob locked eyes with Hermione.

Leaning in, you whispered in a hushed tone, "If not Harry, I still prefer Hermione with Viktor over Ron, to be honest."

Your boyfriend feigned offence, pressing a hand to his chest. "How could you? Hermione and Ron are the one true pair."

As the two of you engaged in your heated debate, time flew by and the next thing you knew, Dumbledore entered the hall with most of the students, announcing, "Now, the moment you've all been waiting for: the champion selection." Exchanging a knowing glance with your boyfriend, you both sighed in anticipation. "Oh dear, here we go."

As Dumbledore announced Viktor, Fleur, and Cedric as the champions of their respective schools, you held your breath, feeling a twinge of sympathy for Harry Potter, the boy who lived. "Excellent! We now have our three champions!" boomed Dumbledore, his voice reverberating through the hall before unveiling the Triwizard Cup.

You winced, murmuring under your breath, "Only one more to go."

Beside you, your boyfriend shook his head with a hint of amusement. "Man, if only they knew the Cup was turned into a Portkey, none of that drama would happen."

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. "Yes, and then there would be no more story to tell now, would there?"

He snorted softly. "True."

As Harry's name was called out, disbelief swept through the Great Hall. You watched with a sinking feeling as even his friends began to stare at him accusatorily, wondering how he managed to enter his name into the Goblet of Fire when he was only a fourth year.

Your eyes landed on Mad-Eye Moody, or rather Barty Crouch Jr in disguise, knowing he was behind this sinister plot. Exchanging hopeless gazes with Wooyoung, you both understood that, at this moment, you were nothing more than spectators. There was no action you could take; you were simply here to witness events unfold.

Perhaps, as much as you wish otherwise, some things were simply meant to be. Your boyfriend covered your hand with his, offering comfort. "Since we can't change anything here, let's not stress about it and just enjoy the moment, hm?"

A smile graced your lips, and you nodded. "You're right, Woo."

"There he is—the poor thing."

You both were hanging out in the courtyard, enjoying the calm before the storm of the Triwizard Tournament's first task, when you spotted Harry passing through, looking visibly distressed. Your sympathy for him grew as you remembered the strained dynamics between him and his friends. Ron and the others firmly believed that Harry had somehow entered his name into the tournament and deliberately kept it from them. It was disheartening to see no one on his side, and you felt frustrated on his behalf.

As expected, Draco Malfoy, with his trademark smugness, decided to provoke him. "My father and I had a bet, you see," he said, dropping down from his perch on the tree. "I don't think you're going to last ten minutes in the tournament." His cronies followed suit as he continued, "He disagrees; he thinks you won't last five."

You and Wooyoung watched as Harry retaliated, standing up to the blonde Slytherin with fiery determination. "I don't care what your father thinks, Malfoy! He's vile and cruel, and you're pathetic."

Just as expected, Draco attempted to strike back, only to be swiftly turned into a ferret by Mad-Eye Moody, eliciting laughter from the crowd. It was perhaps the only time you agreed with Barty Crouch Jr's actions, the only moment he seemed remotely likeable.

However, the amusement was short-lived as Professor McGonagall appeared to play the role of the good cop, firmly instructing Moody to release the bully from his transfiguration punishment.

"My father will hear about this!" Draco's famous words echoed across the courtyard as he hurried away from the scene he caused. Though Wooyoung knew he shouldn't interfere, his irritated state got the best of him, prompting him to slyly stick out his foot and trip the Slytherin as he passed by the two of you.

"How dare you!" Draco hissed, glaring up at your boyfriend.

Gasping, you dragged Wooyoung away with you, shouting, "Sorry, he didn't mean it!"

From across the courtyard, you caught Harry's eye and saw him nod appreciatively at both of you. Wooyoung beamed, waving enthusiastically before watching him go.

Turning back to your boyfriend, you smacked him lightly on the arm. "You! I can't believe you did that," you chided.

Wooyoung stuck his tongue out playfully. "Well, it sure feels satisfying, doesn't it? Besides, Harry acknowledged us."

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I suppose so."

The next day, you found yourselves seated among the crowd at the stands, eagerly awaiting the commencement of the first task: retrieving a golden egg guarded by a dragon. "Bets, place your bets!" Fred's voice rang out, followed closely by George's enthusiastic calls for wagers. "Bets taken, bets taken here!"

As the twins walked around, collecting bets on who would win first place, you sensed your boyfriend about to place a bet himself. With a disapproving click of your tongue, you shook your head. "It wouldn't be fair when you already know who wins!"

He shushed you with a grin. "All the more reason to place my bet! When else will I ever be this lucky, love?"

Resigned, you gave up and shook your head in mock exasperation.

As you watched the first three champions' attempts with bated breath, your nerves were on edge despite knowing they would emerge unscathed. Sensing your anxiety, Wooyoung took your hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. "Hey, it's going to be okay. You already know how it ends."

With a sigh of defeat, you leaned into his side, seeking comfort in his warmth as he wrapped an arm around you. "You're right, I do know," you murmured softly.

Your thoughts drifted to Cedric, and a pang of sadness washed over you as you remembered his tragic fate. It was difficult to watch him knowing what awaited him, but you found solace in your boyfriend's reassuring presence.

When it was finally Harry's turn, you couldn't tear your eyes away from the task, despite knowing the outcome. Every moment felt tense and fraught with danger, and you held your breath until he emerged victorious, tied with Viktor for first place.

Reflecting on the experience, you realised that being part of the scene was far more stressful than reading about it or watching it in a movie, especially when you cared deeply for the people involved.

As the Gryffindor common room buzzed with excitement and everyone crowded around Harry that evening, who proudly displayed his golden egg containing a clue for the second task, you and Wooyoung hung back, observing from a distance. Amidst the cheering and clamour, you both knew what was coming next.

When Seamus tossed the egg back to Harry, urging him to reveal the clue, you exchanged knowing glances. As he held the egg aloft and asked the crowd if they wanted him to open it, the room erupted in enthusiastic agreement. But you and your boyfriend were prepared. With a shared understanding, you plugged your ears, bracing yourselves for the inevitable shrieking noise.

Oh, you're all going to regret that.

As expected, the piercing screech from the golden egg sent everyone in the common room to their knees, hands clamped over their ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise. Amidst the chaos, Harry quickly shut the egg, bringing a momentary relief from the ear-splitting sound.

"What the bloody hell was that?"

Ron's abrupt entrance, punctuated by his exclamation, broke the tension in the room, casting a palpable awkwardness between him and Harry. The silence stretched, thick with the weight of unspoken tension, until one of the twins intervened.

"Alright, everyone, go back to your... knitting," Fred declared, breaking the spell of discomfort. "This is going to be uncomfortable enough without all you nosey sods listening in."

The crowd dispersed, giving the two friends the privacy they needed to reconcile. As Ron and Harry finally made amends, you and Wooyoung shared a smile, feeling genuinely happy for Harry. For now, at least, things were looking up. And the best part of it all was yet to come—the Yule Ball.

You and Wooyoung exchanged eager glances as McGonagall began the dance lesson to prepare everyone in Gryffindor for the ball. Dancing had always been a fun pastime for the two of you, but now, being able to do it alongside your favourite characters and in your favourite fantasy world filled you with excitement.

As the professor made poor Ron demonstrate a dance with her, eliciting stifled laughter from the onlookers, she finally called out, "Everyone, come together! Boys, on your feet!" The girls eagerly stood up, ready to dance, while the boys groaned, leaving Neville and your boyfriend as the only ones rising from their seats.

"Wow, you're really lucky," Hermione remarked from beside you as Wooyoung made his way towards you. Unlike the others who struggled to find partners, you didn't have to worry. "He's hardly ever far from your side. You both seem genuinely in love."

You nodded, offering a shy smile, "Thank you, I believe so too."

As he pulled you into his arms and started dancing alongside Neville and Ginny, Wooyoung couldn't resist asking, "So, what did Hermione say to you?" You playfully stuck your tongue out at him, teasing, "Wouldn't you like to know?" He pouted, drawing his forehead close to yours. "Please, I really would like to know," he pleaded.

You chuckled, giving in to his curiosity. "She said I was lucky to have you, and that we seemed really in love." His playful grin shifted into a sincere one. "Well, she's right about that," he admitted warmly.

You smirked, teasing him further. "To be fair, when is Hermione Granger ever wrong?"

He shrugged, conceding the point. "Hmm, I guess you're right."

The following days were filled with hilarity as you witnessed Harry and Ron's struggles to find dates for the ball. The ginger's dramatic theatrics, particularly after embarrassing himself while trying to ask Fleur Delacour, provided endless entertainment. Meanwhile, poor Harry faced rejection from Cho Chang, who had already accepted Cedric's invitation.

From your corner of the couch, you and Wooyoung snickered at their misfortunes. Eventually, they settled on asking Padma and Parvati Patil. Before you knew it, you were also preparing for the ball. Like magic, you and your boyfriend found your dream outfits in your dorm wardrobe, ready to make a grand entrance at the event.

While your boyfriend had shown you his outfit for the event, you opted to surprise him later in the evening. Inspired by Hermione's iconic entrance, you planned to arrive early and make your own grand appearance without overshadowing her.

Wooyoung waited patiently outside the Great Hall, his heart quickening at the sight of the beautifully decorated winter-themed hall. "Hey, isn't that your girl?" Cedric nudged him, directing his attention to the staircase. Following the Hufflepuff's gesture, his breath caught as he watched you descend, momentarily capturing the crowd's attention with your shy smile.

With graceful steps, you made your way down in an off-shoulder black floor-length dress, adorned with delicate gold patterns that exuded elegance and regality. Unlike others, you chose to leave your hair down, adding a touch of effortless charm to your appearance. Despite having seen you in numerous stunning gowns from Narnia and Middle-earth, you never failed to leave him awestruck with your beauty. Perhaps he was biased, but to him, you were the most captivating presence in the room. And being his favourite colour, black only enhanced your allure in his eyes.

He whispered, "I'm the luckiest man alive, I swear," and you giggled. "Stop it, you," you playfully chided as you fixed his slightly crooked bow. As you did, he gently tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and continued, "I mean it. You're the most beautiful girl here."

You nodded, leaning in to peck his lips before replying, "And you're the most handsome boy here." His cheeky grin widened, and he responded smugly, "I know."

Pulling you gently towards the hall, he said, "Let's go eat before all the dancing starts."

The night passed in a whirlwind of dancing, with Wooyoung holding you close throughout, growing protective whenever he sensed other guys eyeing you. As the event gradually wound down, you found yourselves still on the dance floor, swaying together.

Slowly, a sense of drowsiness began to wash over you. Maybe it was time to return to reality. You knew what would come next in the story, and with the impending challenges and heartaches, you weren't sure you wanted to witness it firsthand. Perhaps it was best to leave the Wizarding World on a high note, with fond memories.

You exchanged smiles with Neville and Ginny, who were also enjoying the moment nearby. Then, you sighed and rested your head on your boyfriend's shoulder, feeling his reassuring embrace. "Woo?" you murmured.

He kissed your cheek softly. "Yes, love?"

Tightening your hold around his shoulders, you snuggled into the crook of his neck. "I'm tired... I think I'm ready to go home."

He smiled, his heart growing warm at the thought of home as he leaned his head against yours. "Me too. I guess that's enough adventure for now."

Living out his fantasies had been incredible, but perhaps he, too, was starting to feel a bit homesick and ready to return home.

He gently stroked your hair as his eyelids grew heavy. Sometimes, the allure of escaping into fantasy worlds was irresistible, offering a temporary reprieve from the challenges of reality. But as the quiet settled around, Wooyoung knew that no matter how enchanting these worlds might be, they were only temporary escapes.

The surroundings gradually quieted, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself back in the comforting familiarity of your shared bedroom. You were nestled in his arms, peacefully asleep, and he had never felt more relieved. Drawing the covers snugly around you, he felt a deep sense of contentment settle within him.

"Home. We're home," he whispered, finally allowing himself to drift off into a restful sleep, grateful to be back where he truly belonged with you by his side.

This is as good as a compilation of some of my favourite parts from these film series. I know this might not be for everyone, but I wrote this mainly just to fulfil my own fantasies hehe.🙈

If you've made it this far, thank you for reading! Are you also a fan of these AUs? Let me know in the comments! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[onskepa]

Hi! I saw your mother day event post. And oils I request a peace were Jake and Neytiri have a human mate who just became a mom and they wanted to do something special for her? If not that’s fine!? Love your writing. Have a nice day

(Sorry about my English it isn’t my first language)

Hellooooooooooo! So for this one, who is baby mama's kid, I am leaving that ambiguous! You use your imagination on who really is her child! Enjoy!

P.S: I will still use the term small mama for this, I wont say if this is connected to the pinnacle or not, do what you like.

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

What a wonderful day

When their child was born, all three mates were happy. Beyond happy. A new life formed from their love. Jake, neytiri and small mama were so blessed! Three children, 2 from their blood and one from their long dear friend. With time and lots of patience the family grew bigger and bigger. With a big family, it is hard to take time for themselves. Especially small mama, who is a recent mother to their wonderful, beautiful baby. 

It wasn't until neytiri brought a suggestion to jake. Why not give small mama a day to herself? A day where she feels that her hard work is appreciated and noticed. For a while after giving birth to their little one, small mama seems a bit exhausted and tired. First time mothering is not an easy task. 

So, together, jake nad neytiri began to plan a whole free day just for their dearest mate.

The rays of sunlight hit small mama’s eyelids, instinctively waking her up. Blinking away the sleepiness, she rose up. Stretching her body as her bones crack, groaning out loud with a smile. Eywa has blessed her to see another beautiful day. 

She turns to see her little one still snoozing away. Wrapping a small blanket around her baby, she heads to check on the other little ones. Her baby was still too small to be sleeping with the others in the pile. According to her beloved neytiri, 3 years is a good age to join the pile. 

Small mama heads over to the cooking area only to find neytiri starting to cook. Neytiri notices her and smiles widely. Giving the food a stir, she gets up and hugs her mate tightly. “Good morning my love, have you slumbered well?” Neytiri asks softly, her eyes glimmering from the sunlight making her more beautiful with a bright glow. Seeing her as such make small mama blush at the beauty before her. 

Small mama nodded while letting a few squeaks escape her lips. Neytiri found it cute and shared a lovely morning kiss. 

“You woke up just in time, food is almost ready” 

Looking around, small mama notices something, “Where is jake?” she asks. 

“Jake will return soon, he needs to bring something important” neytiri answers with a sly grin on her face. 

This made small mama curious, knowing Jake might bring something to complete the breakfast meal. 

“Do you need help?” small mama asks. Her lover shakes her head, “I am fine. You just relax my love. Today you don't have to do anything”. 

“Eh?” 

Small mama was now confused, nothing? 

“That is right babe” 

The sound of Jake's voice was heard behind her, leaning down jake gives a kiss on small mama’s lips, doubling her blush. 

“Wait wait, nothing?” she asks. 

Jake gives a light kiss to neytiri as he hands her some ingredient that she pours in the cooking pot. 

“We have decided to give you a day off. Ever since you had our baby, you have been exhausted and also taking care of the other kids. A break will do you good "Jake answers easily. Neytiri agrees with him. 

Thinking over what they said, small mama feels happy but still slightly worried. 

“By nothing, you mean nothing nothing?” she asks, still slightly unsure. 

“Well we do have some things planned out for you. You can say you are free from any form of duties. And trust me babe, you are going to love what we have in store for you "Jake says a bit flirtingly. 

Oh, now small mama can't wait~ 

Breakfast came and went, small mama fed her baby while also spoon feeding her other children who randomly felt the need to be fed by her like they were infants themselves. Neytiri and jake just loved and took in every second that small mama doing her thing with the kids. She was natural and had a lovely glow. Giving that true ethereal look, something heavenly to look upon. 

Despite the heavy protest from their children, they were to be under the care of mo’at who happily accepted her grandbabies. 

Still unsure of what Jake and Neytiri have in secret for small mama, but she can't help but feel happy to just have a full day to herself and spend some quality time with her lovers. 

“Come come!” neytiri happily leads small mama towards zeze [she lives in this one!] but jake was frowning. “Awe, what's the matter big baby?” small mama teases. 

Neytiri chuckles, smirking a bit, “ma’jake, just for one flight. Then you may have her” she said. 

Jake shrugs and sighs in defeat, “alright, one flight” 

45 minutes later 

“NOW?!” Jake shouts as he and neytiri fly through the hallelujah mountains, small mama  being happily snuggled against neytiri’s chest. It was one long flight and jake was beginning to miss the feel of his little mate. So deciding on a little break is needed. Their ikrans need to re-energize. 

When settling down and calming from the rush, small mama hopped down from seze until jake’s strong arms engulfed her, making her shriek a bit. “JAKE!” she shouts, but jake could care less. 

He laughs loudly as he spins her around, neytiri shouting at him in fear he will hurt small mama in some way. As if jake would ever do such a thing. He would never hurt his little mate. 

“Here you go babe, a ripe one just for you” jake offers some ripe fruit to small mama whom happily accepts his offering. A lunch break was in the midst, giggling together, thinking back to some funny memory they can recall. Lunch was definitely a good one. 

“Hope you are not to tired, we still have more surprises for you” 

Small mama looks over at her mates, still a bit surprised. 

“Just how much or how long have you planned this?” she asks, jake and neytiri look at each other before turning back to look at her. “Dont worry about it, just enjoy this day”. 

Taking a mindful bite, small mama continues to look at her mates, while she shouldn't complain about their dedication to this, she still cant help but wonder. 

Up at the Hallelujah mountains, deep in some connected caves, there are areas that have wonderful cave pools. That natural waterfalls create beautiful vegetation that doesnt ground on the bottom lands. In one of the cave pools, that is where the trio went. To use one of them as their bathing spot. 

It is one of small mama’s favorite spots. 

So of couse they brought her there. 

“This is so cool!” small mama says rather loudly, letting her voice echo through the cave walls. 

“Well what are you waiting for?” 

With a slight push of encouragement, small mama dived into the blue water. Letting the cool temperature wrap her body, the crisp of the taste and atmosphere brought great joy to small mama. Coming up for air, she sees jake and neytiri admiring the beauty before them. 

“Well? What are you waiting for?” small mama repeats what jake said. Without being told twice, her loves join in. Swimming together, splashing one another, bathing together. It was a bliss that small mama would treasure forever. It brought back the nights they spent together before their children arrived. When they had more time together. Being able to enjoy quality time and be as romantic as they wanted. 

Truly, small mama couldn't ask for better mates or a better day. Such a wonderful treat they were giving her.

Night arrived and the whole family were back together in their home. The children themselves had a long day of fun games and activities, mo’at tired them out and soundlessly asleep they were.

Small mama, neytiri and jake cuddle together as they stargaze the glittery night sky.

“Thank you….for everything” small mama whispers.

“We thought you could use a little break,” Jake replied.

Small mama slightly shakes her head, “no, its more than that. Thank you for loving me, being part of your lives. Giving me a chance to be a mother to not just my child but yours as well neytiri. I love you both so much, because of you two, today was a wonderful day. And a wonderful life”

Neytiri wanted to cry a bit, feeling emotional from her lover’s words. The two na’vi hold small mama tighter, enjoying her scent, her warmth, her presence. Like small mama, they too thank her for completing their lives and making it much livelier.

Aaaaaaaand that is all for this one! I hope you liked it! Until next time! See ya!