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whorety-k · 4 months

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Ebony Coasts [Part 6]

I'm sorry this took so long!! Between my busy life and wanting a quick change up so I could practice to make this chapter better, I definitely took my sweet time on this chapter. It's another long one but it was genuinely fun and I hope you all think the same. Thank you for your patience!!!

Pairing: Merfolk!Corvus Corax x fem!Marine Conservationist!Reader (second person POV)

Song recommendation: Witchcraft - Graveyard Club “It’s midnight on Main Street / and this town’s all asleep / But you’re still here with me / and I know that / Darling your love's like witchcraft.”

Warnings: Ocean mentions / potential thalassophobia, culture shock and misunderstanding between species, food, using the word chips instead of crisps because author is American, fluff

Word Count: 4.5k I AM SO SORRY

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 7 (NSFW)]

Waking up three hours later, sticky and crusted with salt was a lot less comfortable than the dreamy atmosphere you had drifted off to sleep in. Corvus was reluctant to let you leave to go home and change, but he recognized that there was no feasible way for you to clean yourself up while you were in his den; the salt water would have wedged sand into more unsavory places. You promised him it would only be thirty minutes to an hour before you would return and, after explaining what an hour was, he relinquished his protests and encouraged you to be safe. You leaned up on your tip-toes for a kiss goodbye, which the mer bashfully gave.

The soothing stream of warm water coursing down your back makes you wonder just how difficult it would be to install a shower within Corvus’s cavern, before kicking yourself for the thought of modernizing any part of the beach that you’re technically supposed to be protecting. The thought of being able to live more readily with Corvus has your brain misbehaving. You hop out of the shower and towel off, changing into a significantly-less-saline outfit than you had been in previously.

Before leaving your apartment, your eyes stray to the dusty picnic basket beneath your desk. For years, the woven wicker has sat unused and taunting you, waiting for its opportunity to see the light of day. The lack of luck in relationships previously had halted any usage of the item, but perhaps today was the day it finally saw usage. You grab the basket.

But what to bring on a picnic with a literal merman? What does a giant fish-person like? You realize you have no idea where to start with him, so when you stop by your pantry you toss two random junk foods inside. Oreos and potato chips. Perfect. It still doesn’t feel like enough though, and you quickly check the time. You still have another fifteen or so minutes to make it back to the coast before Corvus should start to worry. On a whim, you toss the picnic basket on the passenger seat of your car and speed over to the only grocery store between your apartment and the coast.

You’re just as clueless and indecisive as you were at home, but now you were clueless and indecisive with options. The lady behind the meat counter gives you an uncertain look the longer you stare at the identical cuts of salmon.

“If you’re struggling, the Alaskan wild-caught is a better–”

“-Thank you!” You don’t even let her finish before you’re throwing three filets into the shopping cart then speeding off, completely missing the stunned look she throws your way. You barely make sure to wrap them enough to hide the fishy smell.

In the checkout lane, you give in to the crow brain and grab a random rainbow bag of sour candy from the hanging, as well as a pack of four chocolate strawberries from a vendor outside of the store. Are mermen able to eat chocolate? Is it like a dog and cat scenario? You’ve never tried giving a chocolate bar to a fish. Wasn’t there someone who fed their fish Kitkats and it survived? Well, if he can’t have it, it’s just more for you.

You slam the door to the Bronco and gun it for the beach when you arrive. With the picnic basket and a large blanket in hand, it’s not particularly feasible to make it down the cliff face, so you take the long way around. It’s only just been an hour, so hopefully–

A milk white limb wraps around your midsection and lifts you from the ground, causing you to drop your freight in the commotion. Corvus holds you like a kitten, a look of concern plain in his voidish eyes as he intently studies your body.

“You are not injured? It has been greater than an hour. Has something occurred?” He inquires, gently lifting and turning you as he looks you over.

You shake off the shock of being startled, simultaneously chuckling at the doting behavior and irritated with having been snuck up on again. “I’m fine,” you say, prompting the anxious mer to stop twisting you from side to side. Corvus relaxes and lowers you gently back to the sand. Once back on solid ground, you look down at your watch. An involuntary sigh leaves your lungs.

“Corvus.”

“Yes?”

“It has been an hour and three minutes.”

“Yes.”

“This? Over three minutes?”

The merman nods his head, that stoic expression never once faltering. “I worried for your well being.”

Realizing that pressing the matter will get you nowhere, you decide to find the action endearing. When you step to the side to pick up your fallen items, Corvus quickly beats you to it, relinquishing you of the blanket and grabbing the picnic basket before you even have the chance to turn around. It looks comically small in his large hands, cupped like a ball.

“Are we returning to the den?” Corvus asks, readying himself to head that direction. He slides past you, shielding you from the focused rays of the looming sunset.

“That depends,” you start, placing a hand on one of his ebony side fins. The giant stops, twitching from the contact. “How do you feel about trying some human foods?”

Corvus stops, glancing down at you before his attention turns to the basket in his hand. He lifts it to his nose and sniffs at it, and you resist cooing at how cute his ear fins look when they subtly perk up. “I am not opposed to it, however…” His head turns to the horizon, looking out over the waves.

The setting sun casts the sky in a brilliant red, leftover clouds from the earlier storm reflecting the light in a kaleidoscope of pinks, oranges, and yellows. The charcoal rocks of the cliffside bleed into sandstone, cast coral in the dying glow. Lava flows of sand quench in the dusky ocean waves.

“It’s perfect,” you interrupt, grabbing the blanket from his clawed hand. Corvus turns back as you march to the embankment and set up the massive blanket. He watches happily (for someone so usually reserved) as you buzz around like a bee, trying your hardest to get it flat on the sand. Mercifully, the giant holds a corner steady to help you lay out the swath of cloth. When you come back for the picnic basket, he already has it lowered to your level for easy access.

“Get on,” you say, patting the blanket and folding your arms to wait. Corvus spares you a final glance before he carefully slides his way onto the cover, the translucent black fins of his magnificent tail reflecting the threads beneath them. He rests his back against a smooth face of the cliffside and hums his contentment. Enthusiasm at the mer’s comfort thrums through your veins.

Unfortunately, the blanket that’s normally so large on you is nothing compared to the large fins of the black mer. There’s no room for you to sit with him, so you start to kick a clearing beside him for you to sit beside him instead. “I didn’t have a blanket larger than this, so–”

“Would you like to sit on my tail?” Corvus extends a hand towards you, offering you a way to climb up onto him. He adjusts to create a flatter surface.

The marine biologist in you screams ‘I thought you would never offer!’, but the polite person in you wins and instead asks, “Are you sure?” Corvus bows his head and calmly helps you clamber up onto his tail, holding the picnic basket in one hand as he steadies you with the other. He’s cautious to set you low on his lap, below the fins that adorn his waist. You resist touching them, lest you get (literally or figuratively) thrown off of the tail you were just allowed to sit on.

You reach for the picnic basket and Corvus places it before you, allowing you to trifle through it. Strategically, you keep the salmon hidden in the cold compartment at the bottom beneath some ice, drawing out the bag of oreos. A gentle hand rests upon your thigh as the mer watches.

“So these are called Oreos,” you explain, holding one up for Corvus to see, “They’re sandwich cookies with cream in the center.”

Corvus nods as if he understands and scents the item, before opening his mouth to take it. He wants you to feed him you realize, and you carefully place the cookie on his tongue, avoiding his sharp teeth. The cookie is gone with a few crunches. You use the moment to take an oreo for yourself: sweet filling and crunchy cocoa, just as you remember.

The mer isn’t as receptive, nose minutely scrunching as he swallows. You laugh at the face he makes. “Are all humans so fond of sweetened chemicals?” Corvus asks, clearing his throat.

“Some. Not everyone’s a fan,” you reply.

Corvus nods, thinking for a moment. The dwindling light of the dusk has come to a near end, pale moonlight glittering over his visage as his head bows near to yours. Eventually, the mer comes to a conclusion, “The ‘cookie’ half was fine, but I did not enjoy the filling.”

“You’d be surprised how many people agree with you on that,” you note, lean forward to place a kiss on his cheek—

Corvus places a hand over your mouth as he abruptly perks up, stilling completely. His head snaps to the side, eyes glaring in one direction: the rocks in the shallows. You feel the brush of soft flesh before his tail completely blocks your view.

“Is everything okay?” you whisper into his hand, trying to lean around it.

He doesn’t let you. “We are being watched,” Corvus deadpans, eyes fixed on the same invisible spot in the distance. He doesn’t comment further, but his hand moves to your back to curl around you protectively.

The lack of reaction from Corvus and the uncertainty of the situation sets your mind racing. Watched? Watched by what? By who? Are there other humans nearby, looking upon the merman with uncertain eyes, calling the authorities? Your heart begins to palpate in your chest, thumping against your ribcage like a drum. Something’s going to happen to Corvus and it’s going to be entirely your fault, having gotten the mer comfortable with your presence and having him sit out in the open like this. Corvus is going to lose his freedom and his blood is going to be on your hands—

“At ease, little gem,” Corvus calls to you, stroking a soft knuckle down your spine, “You are in no danger.” You snap up to look at him, seeing his midnight eyes now peering down at you. You take a deep breath, and the pounding in your chest slowly begins to steady.

Corvus’s eyes turn back to the shoreline, a swish of his feathery bangs revealing just how furrowed his eyebrows are. He looks disappointed, and you wait for an explanation. With a sigh, he offers, “It is nothing more than someone not knowing that I would prefer privacy.”

A slight droop in his tail allows you to finally see into the partially-illuminated waters. You strain your eyes to find whatever Corvus has been staring at, looking between jagged rocks and soft swells, but absolutely nothing reveals itself to you. Confused, you ask, “Where are you looking?” Corvus doesn’t answer, but eventually you take the hint to follow his eyes to another rock. Still, you see nothing.

The giant startles you by calling something out loudly in a language you do not understand, but finally you notice what he’s been staring at. What you had been fully convinced was just a normal rock lifts itself from the water, revealing a wall of black metal before removing a beak-like helmet. Pale skin begins to reflect the moon’s rays back at you, framed by a mop of black hair straight out of 2005’s top emo bands. As it approaches, you’re surprised to see that it looks strikingly similar to Corvus himself: a large frame with a betta-like tail that’s a tad more narrow, but still visibly powerful. This mer is shorter than Corvus by a substantial amount, but still definitely much larger than you are.

It– He, you believe, converses with Corvus in that unfamiliar tongue the entire time he comes closer, awkwardly dragging himself forward in sand until he’s within a few feet of your blanket. You think Corvus is asking this new mer a few tense questions, based off of the scolding tone of his voice and guilt in the new mer’s eyes, but any communication is lost on you. When Corvus fully lowers his tail, you see the new mer’s eyes widen, but it restrains from any further movement. Corvus finishes whatever conversation he was having and directs his attention back to you eventually with a call of your name.

“This is Shadow Captain Kayvaan Shrike,” he says to you, gesturing a hand in Shrike’s direction. You introduce yourself, unsure if he understands you, and hesitantly reach a hand out towards Shrike for a handshake. He stares at it dumbly, until Corvus mutters something to him in their shared language and Shrike gently takes your hand in his. Incorrectly, just as Corvus had. You’re beginning to notice a trend with the seafolk, and you would call it cute if it wasn’t for the unquestionable strength in the hand over yours.

Corvus directs another inquiry at Shrike, and Shrike takes his hand back to point behind you. Before you can fully turn around, a new voice incredibly near to your head causes you to all but fling yourself off of Corvus’s tail. The giant mer catches you and your picnic basket with a huff, turning his head to address the second newcomer. You follow to see another pale face looking at you inquisitively, standing adjacent to Corvus. He bears similar armor to Shrike, but instead of a shaggy swoop, he wore a slicked-back mohawk. All three merfolk possess the same blacked-out eyes.

“Nykona,” Corvus grunts, before delving into another scolding. ‘Nykona’ doesn’t wear the same kicked-puppy expression Shrike did, instead continuing to observe you in silence. His gaze carries the intensity of someone who has seen and done things in his lifetime that you wouldn’t be able to stomach, sending shivers down your spine. At the end of Corvus’s speech, he gives a simple response and a nod.

Your mer finally turns back to you and directs you towards ‘Nykona’, saying, “And this is Nykona Sharrowkyn, Mor Deythan. Both he and Kayvaan are Astartes.” You have no idea what the second half of that means, but you acknowledge it anyway. You opt to cling to your basket instead of offering a handshake to Nykona, checking the inside contents to make sure they’re alright. Everything appears to be in place.

Nykona and Shrike shift to listen to Corvus speak again, that rhythmic guttural vaguely similar to what it sounds like to list a species’ proper name. You try to make sense of it, but only occasionally do you pick up on names.

The quiet exchange continues on for a fair while longer, before a fantastic idea causes you to jolt upright. Each of the raven-colored merfolk look at you, and you beam at them.

“Do they want to try some human food?”

Corvus had to set a few ground rules with the Astartes, and he had gently placed you down upon the blanket before explaining that it should only take a short moment.

It did not, in fact, take a short moment.

Shrike and Nykona seemed to have an interrogation of their own for Corvus, but in the end, you were actually grateful for the opportunity to see how merfolk interacted with each other. Perhaps it was just these individuals, but they were incredibly formal with each other by your human standards. Respectful distances, no yelling, what seemed like actual discussion. You dare say that Corvus was affectionate with them the way a father was with his sons, reassuring any perceived outburst with a hand on the shoulder and gentle words. The two smaller mer even doff their armor, broad in build even without the augments. You avert your gaze respectfully.

Eventually, Corvus seemed content with the state of things and led the two newcomers back over to you. Corvus curls around your back protectively, leaning against the cliff face again. Nykona makes his way to your right, resting his front on the comfortable blanket while his tail remains on the sand. Shrike has no qualms sitting on the blanket directly beside you.

A strongly-accented voice prods about the basket. “So we are eating what’s in there?” Shrike asks, head tilted like a curious dog.

“Oh! Yes, that’s the plan.” You had no idea whether or not the ‘Astartes’ could understand you, let alone respond to you, so the question comes as a surprise to you. You open the basket, showing him the contents.

Shrike inspects them, then reaches within to pull out a package: a desaturated baby blue with a potato chip on the cover. The captain sniffs at the bag and is confused when he can’t smell much outside of the plastic. “I have seen these floating in the waves before, but they are not often sealed.”

The sentence makes you frown, and you gesture for him to hand you the bag of chips. “Not every human cares about the ocean the way I do. They’ll eat the contents and leave the trash behind. It’s awful behavior.” You pull the sides of the bag open to reveal the salt-and-vinegar chips within. The acrid smell of vinegar makes all three of the mer recoil with varying intensity when you happily pop a chip in your mouth.

In an attempt to ease them into the other foods, you withdraw the strawberries. The smell of the sweet chocolate coating catches their attention instantly, and Corvus, despite all of his politeness, doesn’t wait for you. He tears open the clamshell with a gentle claw and plucks one of the large confectionaries for himself. You give him a playful glare before you take your own berry, noticing that a second is already missing. Nykona chomps away at his from the edge of the blanket.

Only Shrike dares to take a chip from the bag, both Corvus and Nykona passing up the offer politely. Each of you watch as the pungent acidity and saltiness causes the Astartes to wince, gills fluttering awkwardly as he breaks into uncomfortable coughs. Shrike spits the chip out into the sand with groan, wiping off his tongue. You place a hand on his shoulder to comfort him through it, and you’re surprised to see it actually seem to ground him. So is he, by the way he gently pushes your hand away. When Shrike is calmed down enough to focus on another food, he reaches for the remaining strawberry– then lets out a short growl. Shrike’s eyes instantly snap over to Nykona.

Nykona, rather contently, chews on Shrike’s allotted berry. He wears a face of perfect nonchalance.

Corvus covers you protectively with a hand as Shrike glares down his fellow Astartes, but you break the tension by offering Kayvaan your berry. He looks down at the strawberry reluctantly, eyes flicking between it and your patient face. Tentatively, Shrike takes the berry and plops it whole into his mouth, and the instant relaxation in his eyes makes giving up your treat worth it.

You feel a gentle rumbling against your back, and you look up to see the tender expression Corvus casts your way. A careful hand places itself at your shoulders and strokes the muscles there, and you return the soft look.

Nykona crinkling the rainbow bag of candy pulls you from the moment. “These are sweet too. I can smell it,” he mutters, using a claw to open the larger bag and spill out the individually wrapped pieces within.

Warheads. You had bought Warheads. You may have loved Warheads, but you seriously doubt they would given the collective reaction to the salt-and-vinegar chips.

Nykona picks up one of the packaged candies and makes an unreadable face, with Shrike following suit. You take one for yourself and Corvus, offering it up to your betta.

“These are called Warheads. They’re sour candy, so they’re not really for everyone, but I like them.” After your brief explanation, you show each of the boys how to open the packaging and plop the hard candy into your mouth. The instant burn on your tongue causes you to shiver, but after a bit of intense salivation, it quickly gives way to the sweet candy underneath.

The hesitation on each of their faces is clear, but after Corvus places the candy in his mouth, the Astartes follow suit.

You’re surprised to see each of the merfolk maintaining a straight face. Honestly, you had expected each of them to absolutely hate the taste. Hell, most humans hated the taste of warheads because of the extreme burn of sour each of them packed. It was a pleasant surprise to know that Corvus and his… pod(?) must enjoy sour candy—

A shuddering choke to your left catches your attention. Shrike breaks first, letting out an uncomfortable hiss of air and shaking his head, hair covering his face. A groan from your right, and Nykona is removing the warhead from his mouth, dropping the sticky sugar onto the blanket with a less-than-amused look. You only just notice Corvus reach up and take the Warhead off of his tongue, holding it between his claws and frowning at it.

He looks at you with sad eyes, “That was… unpleasant.”

It’s enough to break you into a fit of hysterics, throwing your head back against Corvus’s tail as your core shakes with laughter. Each breath wheezes out of you uncontrollably, limbs feeling gooey as you sink further and further into the blanket.

No one else seems as amused.

Once you get yourself mostly under control, you fall forward onto your hands and knees and reach into the basket with unsteady hands. The merfolk watch as you rummage through it and pull out the hidden salmon filets from within. With pride, you present the orange meat towards the sky.

You don’t even see each of them move– you can only feel the air move around you before your hands are completely empty. The tang of fish fills the air from every direction, then the wet sound of teeth ripping into flesh. You could only describe the scene as feral, sharks tearing into unsuspecting seals in an attempt to wash the taste of the warheads out of their mouth. Only to another marine biologist could you describe it as “cute.”

Corvus wipes off his mouth as he finishes, a soft huff of relief leaving his gills. He gives you a pensive look before his hands snake beneath your arms, lifting you up and drawing you close. You hold yourself against him with a hand on his chest as he adjusts his grip to support your weight better, missing the look the giant casts to the other mer. Movement behind you causes you to look over your shoulder, and you’re surprised to see Nykona and Shrike completely clad in their armor once again, Shrike’s white helmet making him easy to identify in the low light. Both Astartes salute Corvus, hands crossed over their chest, before slithering back towards the ocean. You wave at them in goodbye, receiving a nod of acknowledgement as they go.

Corvus bends down to gather your blanket and basket, cradling you to shield you from the change of gravity then starting off in the direction of his den. With Shrike and Nykona gone, a warm silence fills the air. You smile up at your black betta, and he returns it. You glance back towards the water.

You can't help but wonder more about their relationship, and you make it known, “I know their names, but who are they?”

Corvus trails your glance towards the sea. “Nykona and Kayvaan are my sons.”

His words drop like a bombshell, and you freeze. The thought that Corvus has sons fills you with unease and… jealousy? Sure, you know Corvus has a life outside of yours, and you knew that he had one before you were around, but the thought still does terrible things to your heart.

Corvus can smell the dismay on you, and as soon as you two are within the safety of his cavern, he drops the items he’s carrying. He uses his freed hand to lift your chin, tilting your head to look up at him, “Do not be troubled. They are only my sons in name…”

You find relief in his reassurances, but the way he trails off leads you to feel suspicious once more. You know there’s more he has more to say, and you motion for him to go on. Corvus’s jaw tenses.

“They are made with my genetic material, but I had no hand in making them myself.”

Well that statement causes distinctly more heretical thoughts that you have to force yourself to tamp down. It still doesn’t explain very much, instead replacing your former question with less tasteful ones. With a shake of your head, you admit, “I still don’t understand.”

“It is better that way,” Corvus sighs and continues carrying you all the way into the bedspace, sequestering you both somewhere private. It comforts him to have you completely to himself without anyone to intrude on the moment.

Perhaps there are better times to be a biologist, you reason as Corvus settles the two of you into the bed of furs, placing you on the un-scaled half of his lap. You look up at him with hearts in your eyes, leaning forward to rest against his cold chest. The sensation of something metal digging into your sternum causes you to sit up, looking down your shirt. You move to shift your raven necklace out of the way so you can lean against Corvus more comfortably, but your hand catches on a second necklace that you don’t remember putting on.

Cautiously, you withdraw the pendant and turn it over it in your hand, examining the teardrop of metal cradling a familiar black pearl. Warmth blooms in your cheeks as you gaze up into Corvus’s eyes.

That handsome face of carved alabaster smiles down at you expectantly.

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these two pictures had me dying laughing

this is permanently in my search history now because I was also curious

I tried to base Kayvaan Shrike off of pre-heresy, as well as Nykona, but it can be difficult with such little source material so they definitely have aspects of their later personalities.

If you don't want smut, it's perfectly feasible to stop after this chapter!! This story can comfortably conclude here :)

If you do want smut, though, please enjoy:

[Part 7]

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 30k #corvus corax #primarch #primarch x reader #corvus corax x reader #warhammer fanfic #mermay #raven lady writings #nykona sharrowkyn and kayvaan shrike jumpscare #literally

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fluentmoviequoter · 1 year

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Heart Set on Amulets

Summary: Dalton meets shy, introverted reader and they become friends. Eventually, he finds out that she's a witch and tells her about his astral projecting. She creates an amulet to help him sleep, and Dalton discovers how nice dreams can be.

Requested Here!

Update (October 2023): Heart Set on Amulets Universe Masterlist

Warnings: canon-typical discussion of the Further, several vague references to Insidious: The Last Key (2018), in-depth discussions of magic and witchcraft (I did my homework for this one lol), Google Translate Latin, fluff. 3.4k+ words.

A/N: All of the witchcraft-related content is from my Supernatural knowledge and the Supernatural wiki page. This was a great request and super fun to write! Let me know what you think and I hope you like it! :)

If you could get away with wearing a glamour amulet to look like someone else for your whole life, you would. Or better yet, an invisibility shield. For as long as you can remember, you’ve preferred to fade into the background and avoid everyone. Most people thought you were simply shy, but as you got older, you knew something else was happening inside you.

On your thirteenth birthday, you discovered you were a witch. Vowing never to tell anyone, you embraced what you believe to be your destiny. Wearing black, “witchy” clothes, keeping to yourself, and practicing the mystic arts in the dark allowed you to grow in ways you never imagined. The people closest to you thought you were in a goth or witch phase. When you walked across the stage at your high school graduation, casting spells under your breath, they accepted that it is who you are. Now it’s your turn.

Arriving at college, you continue to keep to yourself. Learning that you are a witch did nothing for your social skills, still preferring to be quiet and as invisible as possible. Managing to secure an on-campus apartment, you have space to practice and develop your powers in your free time and have a quiet place to think and get away from the busy, people-filled life you live beyond your door.

“Cloaking flame,” you read, flipping through the spell book you have been building on for years. You run your finger along the page, reading the ingredients and effects of the spell. “Black candle, blood, a lit match… conceals caster and causes spontaneous combustion.”

Looking toward your pantry, you consider trying the spell until you hear people talking in the hall outside. You shake your head, thinking that spontaneous combustion probably isn’t the best idea in an apartment. Turning the page, you look at the first of many pages of research you’ve conducted on dreams over the years. Flicking your wrist, you conjure a cup of your favorite drink and take a sip before tapping the sigil and sending your spell book into a pocket dimension for safekeeping. The hallway is silent as you carry your drink to your bedroom, distantly wondering what it feels like to have company in your apartment.

“Dolphin, that’s stupid!” someone yells ahead of you on the sidewalk.

“Why don’t you yell a little louder, Chris?” the boy you assume is ‘Dolphin’ responds.

“Hey!” The girl turns toward you and beckons someone closer. As you look over your shoulder, she adds, “Yeah, you. Please help me!”

Shaking your head and sending a small smile, you whisper, “Praesidium ab extraneis custodi me a periculo” (Protection from strangers keep me from danger).

You continue walking, fiddling with the amulet around your neck. Years ago, when you became a witch, you visited a psychic who gifted you the charm necklace, encouraging you to put whatever spell or enchantment you desired upon it. The amulet has remained unenchanted since then, waiting for the right moment. Your fingers grip the amulet tighter when someone falls into step beside you.

“Hey, I just wanted to apologize for Chris – my friend that harassed you on the sidewalk earlier… I’m Dalton.” He extends his hand for you to shake, then drops it quickly. “You don’t have to talk to me, I’m usually super introverted but Chris tends to rub people the wrong way at first, so I thought I should apologize. And now I’m rambling.”

“It’s fine,” you whisper, stopping at a split in the sidewalk. “I appreciate the apology, and not trying making me talk.”

“Anytime.” Dalton smiles, and you can’t stop the small smile you send him in return. “I’ll see you around.”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely,” Dalton concludes with a wink.

As you watch Dalton walk away, the idea of pathokinesis pops into your head. You shake your head to rid the thought. The last thing someone like you needs is a love spell. It’s not like you could talk to him even if you did manipulate him into thinking he loves you. And, most importantly, you would never mess with someone’s emotions, not with how much trouble you have with your own.

You try to push Dalton out of your mind in class, your mind eventually drifting to a dimensional manipulation spell you were working on the night before. The person beside you asks for a pencil, and you briefly wish you had learned the cloaking flame spell as you silently pass a pencil, letting your eyes watch the pencil to avoid any awkward eye contact.

The last thing you expect is to see Dalton waiting by the door when you exit class, yet here he is.

“So, I was thinking,” he begins.

“Scary thought,” you mumble.

Dalton laughs before continuing as he walks beside you, but not close enough to make you uncomfortable. “You’re super easy to talk to, like, I’ve never met someone that I could start a conversation with, but here you are. Granted, you don’t really say anything, so it’s more that I have a conversation with the idea of you? I don’t know. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” You shrug as you look at his shoes. “I don’t talk to anyone though, really, so don’t feel too bad.”

“You’re talking to me now. After a very long lecture from Chris, which means she yelled at me, I realized that maybe we could try to be friends. If it doesn’t work, we walk away, no harm done. What do you think?”

“Why? I’m the definition of introverted and I’m super weird.”

“Chris likes to say that everyone’s weird.”

Remaining silent, Dalton stops talking and looks straight ahead, allowing you to think for several minutes.

“Hey, where are we going?”

“I’m going to my apartment.”

“You got an apartment? Lucky.”

“Look.” You hold an arm up to stop Dalton, looking in his general direction but failing to make eye contact. “We can try. This is my building, apartment 7. If you need a quiet place to think or work, or just away from your eccentric friend, come over. I’ll try to talk, but I can’t guarantee anything. You’re nice, Dalton, and you deserve friends, but I’m too shy to ever talk this much again.” You rush past him and wait until you are in your apartment before taking a deep breath, sagging against the door. “I just talked to him,” you realize aloud.

After your last class on Friday, just two days after talking to Dalton, you hear a knock on your door. Clutching a black obsidian stone, you raise it behind the door as you open it. Your hand falls to your side as you make unintentional eye contact with Dalton.

“You scared me,” you accuse.

“You said I could come over?”

You nod and open the door, allowing him to come inside. As you close the door, you look around and thank the morning version of you for straightening up before you left.

“Nice place. Do you want me to leave?”

“No, Dalton, you’re good. I’m just jumpy, sorry.”

Dalton loosens his hold on his backpack strap, setting his bag in the corner before looking around. He steps closer to your bookshelf, looking at the books and shelf of black candles. Most of your witch-related belongings are in the cabinets in the kitchen, hidden from sight.

“What’s the stone for?” Dalton points to the obsidian in your hand.

“Oh, it was a gift,” you lie. “Just picked it up when you knocked. No one ever really visits.” The last part was the truth, at least.

“Well, they’re missing out.” Dalton smiles before turning back to the bookshelf.

“You can sit wherever. I assume you came for a reason?”

“I can’t just come to say hi?”

“You can. I don’t know why you would,” you admit with furrowed brows.

Dalton helps himself to your couch, spreading his arms across the back as he smiles at you. You finally realize how long you’ve maintained eye contact and look down, tapping your feet together.

“You’re better company than you think. Let’s break open each other’s shells.”

Dalton is serious, and for the first time in your life, you think that maybe having a friend wouldn’t be so bad. As you and Dalton take turns asking questions about each other, you nearly forget about the pocket dimension holding your spell book and the pantry. For a few minutes, you feel normal. But you have never been normal, and one friend won’t change that.

Hours after the sun has gone down, Dalton gathers his things and heads for your door. You whisper a warding spell as you open the door for him, protecting him from harm as he enters the world. After he leaves and the door is closed, your hand lifts to your amulet while your mind drifts to the cloaking flame and where you could possibly test it.

Saturday morning, you get a text from Dalton – whose name and number he must have put into your phone sometime last night. Warily, you accept his invitation to breakfast. When he knocks on the door, you see Chris at his side, and you realize where your apprehension came from. You’re learning to talk to Dalton, but when you see Chris, you shut down.

“I’m going to meet you two there,” Chris says suddenly, looking between you and Dalton. She grabs Dalton by the shirt and whispers in his ear, unheard by you, “Don’t mess this up, Dolphin.”

Dalton offers his hand, and you take it slowly, interlacing your fingers with his as you walk. He looks tired, and while you’re not used to caring for the people around you, he makes it seem very easy.

“We don’t have to go to breakfast, Dalton,” you offer.

“I want to.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Why do you ask?” Dalton smiles and pulls your hand closer. “Because you kept me out so late last night?”

“No, I just...” you take a breath to stop stuttering and decide to shoot straight. “You look tired.”

“I am, but I’ll get over it. Now, what’s your favorite breakfast food?”

Dalton fills the rest of the walk with conversation, offering easy questions you can answer quickly. He never makes you feel forced to talk; more like he is inviting you to and hanging onto your every word. At the restaurant, Dalton is a buffer between you and Chris. However, you quickly realize that while Chris can be loud and comes across as abrasive, she is actually sweet, and you can see yourself becoming friends with her. Slowly, maybe, but eventually.

Over the next few weeks, you learn the appeal of having friends. Dalton is at your apartment more than his own dorm. Chris has come over several times, and you can talk to her without Dalton around now. While they haven’t said anything, you wonder if they’re curious about the ever-shifting candles or the arrangement of wax on your table. You want to tell them who you really are, but your fear that they’ll leave feels crippling. Losing the only friends you’ve ever had is frightening enough that you’d be willing to stop practicing witchcraft. If that were possible, that is.

Just before fall break, when the leaves are falling, every student is carrying a hot drink, and tickets to go home for Thanksgiving are being purchased, your relationship with Dalton changes forever. It’s nearly midnight when knocking on your door almost breaks your concentration during a spell. Ignoring it, you focus on the scrying spell arranged on your table. With your arms out over the arrangement and your eyes focused on the prism in the center, you repeat the name of the man you are looking for, alternating between the English and Latin versions of his name. The knocking comes again, and you can’t risk losing the progress you’ve made.

“Come in and shut up!” You yell quickly, keeping your eyes on the prism and the name in your mind.

You hear the door open, then very slowly close. As your chanting picks up speed, the prism lights up, drawing you in before everything goes dark. Dropping your arms to the chair in front of you, you lean your weight on it as you catch your breath.

From across the room, Dalton whispers your name. You look up at him, pulling the black shawl from your head to meet his eyes.

“What is going on?” he asks, wide-eyed.

You take a deep breath before standing to your full height. The lights flicker on, the energy you channeled into the prism returning to the wires. Dalton looks between you and the table.

“I can explain.”

Dalton remains silent, pressing his lips together and gesturing for you to continue.

“Short answer is I’m a witch. The longer answer is that my entire life I’ve felt like I didn’t belong; I could never make friends or talk to people, and I just- something was missing. When I turned thirteen, I found out I was a witch.”

“How?” Dalton interrupts.

“An energy blast,” you admit, pulling on your fingers and hoping Dalton won’t leave. “Shot it straight through my bedroom wall. Covered it up with a story that something fell and hit the wall at a weird angle and that’s why it went all the way through.”

“People believed that?”

“I guess.” You shrug and try to look away from Dalton. “Never said anything else about it.”

“Okay. So, you’ve been a witch since you were thirteen, basically?”

“Yeah.”

Dalton nods, saying something to himself before asking, “What did I just walk in on?”

“A scrying spell. It’s a locator spell, used to find people.”

“And you told me to shut up because?”

“Distraction is one of the biggest weaknesses for witches. Losing one bit of concentration could be the difference between life and death, or it could alter a spell and cause something unexpected to happen. Sorry, though.”

“No, it’s fine.” Dalton walks to the table and stands beside you. “Which part is the most important?’

“All of it, but the prism is vital. It’s what shows me the location of the person I’m looking for.”

“And where are they?”

“Five Keys, New Mexico.”

You look over at Dalton as he examines each piece of your spell, waving in front of the mirrors and looking at the reflections of the crystals. He looks tired, even more so than usual.

“What’s going on, Dalton? You look like you haven’t slept at all.”

“I haven’t,” he admits with a humorless laugh. He looks over to you and clenches his jaw. “I guess you told your secret, I can tell mine.”

You nod and place your hand on his forearm, encouraging him.

“I can astral project. I’m pretty sure it started when I was younger and that the coma my parents told me about wasn’t a coma. It’s gotten really bad recently. The dimension where I go, the Further, is full of souls and demons that are trying to get out. Every time I try to sleep, I end up there and I- I don’t know what to do.”

“I can help.”

Dalton shakes his head. “How?”

“Promise not to freak out?”

Dalton’s eyes widen in anticipation rather than fear this time, and he smiles as he nods. You wave your hand in a circle, flourishing at the bottom to open the pocket dimension in which your spell book resides. Pulling the heavy book onto your table, Dalton watches in awe as you close the dimensional rift behind it. Finding a worn tab near the back, you open the book and begin reading.

“Feel free to share with the class, Professor,” Dalton teases, looking over your shoulder. “Is that Latin?”

“Some of it. Basically, this spell works as a sort of immobilization and a warding spell combination. It doesn’t actually immobilize you, but it keeps your astral body, soul, whichever you prefer, in this dimension. The warding aspect ensures that any portal opened by your gift isn’t usable from the other side.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning nothing in the Further can come through to this dimension.”

“So, it would close the door?” Dalton asks excitedly.

“Not exactly. My understanding of the Further is that there is a door within it, in addition to any route that can be opened to enter or exit it. Basically, the door you’re talking about is to a room within a house. This won’t keep things from using that door, but it stops them before they make it to this world.”

“And the spell helps me sleep?”

“The spell itself, no. I’ll have to enchant something with the spell, then you keep that object with you when you sleep, and it will provide a broader coverage of the spell. Imagine the object having the spell locked within it, on a never-ending loop. Enchanting an object repeats the spell over and over because the spell lives within it.”

“Okay. What kind of object?”

Your hands raise to the amulet on your neck. It has been awaiting its purpose for over half a decade, and it has finally come. You unhook the clasp, pulling the chain from your neck.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Dalton asks, his hands grabbing yours.

“Enchanting this amulet. Then you can just wear it to sleep.”

“I’ve never seen you without this thing.”

“I haven’t taken it off since I was thirteen. I’ve been waiting for the right time to enchant it, its sole purpose.”

“But it’s yours.”

“And I want to give it to you. Dalton, you’re worth this. Let me do this for you. You are the only reason I feel like I belong here, you’re my only friend, and this is the least I can do for you.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

You nod, and Dalton slowly removes his hands, watching you open your ingredient cabinet and pull a few new candles and a letter opener.

“What’s everything for? Can you talk me through it until you have to concentrate?”

“So, I’ll light the candles as part of the spell, then – this part’s kind of gross – I have to add some blood to the melted wax, then heat the amulet over the flame while I project the spell into it.”

Dalton nods with your explanation, cringing slightly at the mention of blood. You tell him the names and general purposes of the items as you set everything up, then ask him to step back as you begin.

“Corpus, caro et anima, malum annulos, animus nolo depreadandum, maneo. Body, flesh and soul, evil tolls, the soul will not pray, stay,” you begin, chanting as the candle melts. When the black wax begins to pour over the edge, you lift the letter opener and prick your forefinger, ignoring Dalton’s gasp as a drop of blood mixes into the hot liquid. You continue the chant as you hold the amulet over the flame, gaining volume until the amulet is too hot to hold. When you drop the necklace on the table, the candle goes out, and the flame dances in the amulet briefly before everything returns to normal.

“That’s going to take a while to get used to,” Dalton mutters.

“You said that like you’re sticking around.” It’s not a question, but you say it as if it were.

“Where would I go? Find a better friend than the one who pricked her finger to keep me from having what are essentially bad dreams?”

“You and I both know they’re not bad dreams,” you point out as you motion for Dalton to sit down. You put the amulet on, stepping around him to see how it looks. “She told me I’d know when it was time.”

“Who?”

“The psychic who gave me the amulet. I went to see her after I found out I was a witch.”

Dalton nods. “Have you seen her again?”

“No, but I’m planning to visit someone who knew her well.”

“I just have more questions now.”

“I’m going to Five Keys, New Mexico, to talk to a guy called Specs.”

Dalton stands and takes your hands. “Thank you for the amulet, I’m going to go sleep for a very long time. Then I want to hear more about this trip because there is no way you are going by yourself.”

“Did you just invite yourself?” you ask as he picks up his bag and heads for the door.

“What was it you said? That I’m worth it? Well, so are you,” he calls as the door closes.

If Dalton's going to keep looking at you like that, you're going to have to learn the cloaking flame move.

That night, Dalton sleeps peacefully for the first time in years, dreaming of you while you wonder what kind of magic brought Dalton Lambert into your life.

#dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert fluff #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert #insidious #insidious the red door #requests #heart set on amulets

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magickkate · 7 months

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🍲🔥Cauldrons and Modern-Day Alternatives 🍲🔥

While the traditional cauldron holds a special place in witchcraft lore, modern-day witches have found creative alternatives for their magical workings. Here are some contemporary options:

Crockpots and Slow Cookers: These kitchen staples are perfect for simmering magical potions and brews over a long period of time. Use them to infuse your home with delicious scents and positive energy.

Cast Iron Skillets: With their sturdy construction and ability to retain heat, cast iron skillets make excellent vessels for cooking up spells and rituals. Season yours with intention and use it to whip up magical concoctions.

Mortar and Pestle: While traditionally used for grinding herbs and spices, a mortar and pestle can also be used to mix and blend ingredients for spellwork. Choose one made from natural materials and dedicate it to your magical practice.

Mason Jars: These versatile containers are perfect for storing herbs, potions, and other magical ingredients. Use them to create spell jars, charms, and talismans, or simply to infuse your pantry with positive energy.

Enamelware: With its retro charm and durable construction, enamelware is a popular choice among modern witches for brewing up magical concoctions. Choose a brightly colored pot or kettle and let it become a focal point of your kitchen altar.

Remember, it's not the tool itself that holds power, but the intention and energy you infuse into your magical workings. Choose tools that resonate with you and your practice, and let your creativity flow! 🌟🔮

#magickkate #reference #kitchen witch #sigils #witchblr #green witch #witch #witchcraft #witchy #queue the magick #cauldron #witch aesthetic #witches #magic #occult

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holmesillustrations · 9 months

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Vote for your favourite, the top 9 will proceed in the bracket. Since theyre all different shapes and sizes, make sure to click into the full views!

Paget Eliminations / Other Artist Eliminations

Full captions and details for each illustration below the cut:

"Blessington, I think, sat upright in bed." W.H. Hyde, Resident Patient (Harper’s Weekly) Characters: Worthingdon Bank Gang, Blessington

[The Dancing Men Cyphers] Arthur Conan Doyle, Dancing Men (The Strand)

"I trust; Mr. Holmes, that you can spare me a few hours." FD Steele, Three Students (Collier’s) Characters: Holmes, Hilton Soames

"This is awful! You don't mean – You don't mean that I am suspected?" Arthur Twidle, Wisteria Lodge (The Strand) Characters: Watson, John Scott Eccles, Holmes, Gregson, Insp Baynes

"Holmes stared with great curiosity at the slips of foolscap." HM Brock, Red Circle (The Strand) Characters: Holmes

"The doctor knelt beside him, and held down the hand-lamp. One glance was enough to show the healer that his presence could be dispensed with." Frank Wiles, Valley of Fear (The Strand) Characters: Insp MacDonald, Watson, Holmes

"What's this, Mr Holmes? Man, it's witchcraft! Where in the name of all that's wonderful did you get those names?" Arthur I. Keller, Valley of Fear (1915 US Novel) Characters: Holmes, Douglas, Police, Local Surgeon

"Suddenly Holmes sprang from his chair. "Come, Watson, come!" he said. "With the help of the God of justice I will give you a case which will make England ring." Alfred Gilbert, Thor Bridge (The Strand) Characters: Joyce Cummings, Watson, Grace Dunbar, Holmes

"At the child's cry of pain Ferguson and the nurse rushed to the nursery. The kneeling form of his wife by the cot confirmed the terrible accusations of the nurse." WT Benda, Sussex Vampire (Hearst’s International) Characters: Robert Ferguson, Mrs Mason

[Watson and Mrs Maberley] FD Steele, Three Gables (Liberty) Characters: Mrs Maberley, Watson

[Holmes] FD Steele, Lion's Mane (Liberty) Characters: Holmes

"I was slipping through the pantry window in the early dawn when I felt a han inside my collar." FD Steele, Retired Colourman (Liberty) Characters: Mr Barker, Holmes

#acd holmes #sherlock holmes #tumblr bracket #sherlock holmes illustrations #elim poll #oa elim #this is the last one for the other artists!

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haepii · 2 years

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Metanoia | NJM (01)

(n.) the art of changing one’s perspective

Pairing: Na Jaemin + Fem!Reader

Genre: Werewolf!AU, Supernatural!AU, Fantasy!AU, Romance, Drama, Angst

Series: Main Navi, Neo Culture Pack Series Masterlist, Limerence, next part

Warnings: Violence, Gore, Mentions/Use of Weapons (I.e., swords, daggers, knives), Mentions of Blood, graphic depictions of Murder/Blood, Werewolves (if you don’t like it, leave), Mentions of bones cracking/breaking, Mentions of witches/witchcraft, mentions of vampires/fae, mentions of werewolves (duh), Jealous/Controlling Behavious (I do not condone these behaviours in real life, but obviously this work is pure fiction and so are the characters in it even if they are based off real people), dark themes, mentions/depictions of trauma/symptoms of PTSD/Anxiety/other mental illnesses, angst, mentions of superpowers/witchcraft/etc. (for anyone who has beliefs against this), reader has feminine qualities and fem pronouns/descriptors

WC: 9.6K

Taglist: @peepsibo @seajae @thesunsfullmoon @suhappysuho @traint0tokyo @niinjo

NOTE: for the readers of Jisung's series, I thank you for all the support but I must advise that this series takes a much darker route from Part 1 so PLEASE read this series at your discretion. This series includes much darker themes that some of the other series do and takes on a more tragic tone, please DNI if any of the warnings above trigger you, for parts with more graphic depictions there will be excessive warnings and warnings during the parts where it gets excessively dark.

Additionally, I wanted to mention the release date of this series being so far from Limerence. As some may know, I have just completed my senior year of highschool in the last few weeks, so the writing of this first part took place over months and months in the background of schoolwork/final exams. I once again want to thank you all for the patience you've had for this series finally being released.

Without further commentary, enjoy the teaser and get ready to step back into the weird and whimsical world of the Neo Culture Pack. If you haven't yet read Jisung's series, it is recommended you read it first (as this is a series of series, and this series is the second in reading order, interchangeable with Kalon (Mark's series). However, as of right now I plan to release them in seperate stints (or after I've released 5-8 parts of this series), so pretty much how I did the release of Jisung's on its own. – Grace <3 :)

Ten Years Earlier…

“Jeno!”

Jaemin yelled, searching the remains of the pack house, as he waded through the bodies of massacred pack members that lined the floors beneath his feet. His hands were covered in blood, and he could not recall whether it was his own or somebody else’s, but he felt determined to find Jeno. Something inside him told him that his twin brother was still alive.

Images of the moments before flashed in the young boy’s mind. He remembered everything; his mother’s kiss to his forehead as she hid him in the attic, the desperation in her voice when she told him not to leave until she came to find him, and her cries for Jeno when she’d desperately left to reunite the twins amidst the Slayers’ attack. The irony of it all was, perhaps, that his mother never had the chance to return to him and lead him out of the attic. Instead, Jaemin staggered out of the attic when he realised he was alone.

Now he found himself in the kitchen, defeated and alone, he now prayed by some miracle of the moon goddess that his brother was alive. “Jeno… it’s me, Jaemin. We’re alone, we don’t have to hide anymore.”

A loud creak sounded, and out from the pantry stepped Jeno, who ran to his brother and hugged him tightly. There was a long silence before Jaemin pulled away and Jeno dared to ask with a dread-filled tone. “Where’s Mother?”

Not being given the chance to form an answer, Jeno felt his stomach sink when the sound of wary footsteps filled the room. The elder of the two, Jeno, barely had time to pull the young into his former hiding place. Jeno didn’t register the voice at first, the only sound registering in his ears was the pounding of his heart.

“Jaemin? Are you in here?” The voice was distraught and broken, just like they were. Clinging to the hope of a familiar face. Chaeyoung continued into the kitchen, clutching at her wounds, praying by some miracle of the moon goddess that she was not alone. She also prayed that she was not sinking into insanity, that Jaemin’s voice was not a trick of her mind or desperation.

It was only when she came into the eyeline of the boys, tears streaming down her face as she collapsed against the side of the stone countertop, clutching at her thigh. She must’ve been hallucinating, she’d lost a lot of blood, but she could swear on the last inch of her life that she’d heard Jaemin’s voice. As if it was her last hope, she let out a final mumble. “Jaemin�� please tell me you’re here… I don’t want to die alone.”

The younger brothers rushed forward out from the pantry, and into the debris-littered kitchen to their eldest cousin, the daughter of Beta Min. Their father was the Alpha, their uncle the Beta, and three of them, the twins and their cousin were to be the future of the Blood Moon pack. That was until the massacre. Throwing their arms around her, they let her sob into their shoulders, both Jeno and Jaemin grateful that she was with them.

“We’re the only one’s left…” Chaeyoung sobs out, partially with relief that she was not alone, partially with sorrow that their family was mostly dead, but mostly with fear. It was only them now, Chaeyoung had only freshly turned 18 and was set to begin her travels to find her mate. The twins were learning to phase into their wolves, not even older than 10. “We’re no longer safe here. We need to leave.”

Jaemin does not hesitate to ask, but instead looks to Chaeyoung for any answers she may have. “Where’s our mother?”

At the mention of her Aunt, Chaeyong closed her eyes tightly, in an effort to keep the blood scene from her mind. She recalled it all as clear as she’d seen it with her own eyes. How, in her final moments her Aunt, the twins’ mother, had made her promise to keep them safe. Their mother had made her niece promise to find them, go as far away as possible and to never return. “I found her in your father’s office… she’s–”

Jeno cuts off that sentence, not wanting to hear it for himself. Sadness filled his voice. “You don’t have to say it. We know.”

There was a long and sad silence that overcame the group, but the feeling that they would never be able to return here made Chaeyoung find her courage once again. She was the first to speak, and her voice had taken on the same tone of her aunt’s when she’d told her sons that she would come back from them. For some reason, it made the brothers trust their cousin more than they ever had. “Look… I have a friend, the alpha of a pack not too far from here. It's only a few days’ journey, but it's not an easy one. He’s the only one I am certain will take us in with no questions asked, but I need you to listen to me. Can you boys do that?”

They nod, and without question, turn to listen to her. She pauses for a moment, shifting her bleeding leg slightly. With a pained voice she mumbled out. “I need you boys to phase… and follow my lead.”

The journey had taken weeks, weeks of fighting off hunger, hiding from rogues and running for their lives. Chaeyoung was right when she had said it would not be easy. Not for her or the boys who followed her in their small wolf forms. Yet, here they stood, at the entrance to the Neo Culture pack house. She registers the scent before she registers the commanding presence of Taeyong before her.

The smell of citrus and jasmine filling her nose from the young man, freshly 18 standing on the stairs as he looks at her with the same glowing eyes. She didn’t care what would happen to her, or that her dress was tattered and her hair was wet and dripping onto the marble tiles beneath her, she only cared about the Beta standing on the stairs with the blue glowing eyes, who smells like citrus and jasmine. She instinctively finds herself moving towards him, letting go of the two boys who clung to her. They met in the middle, colliding like magnets as she looked up at him, only uttering one word with the utmost happiness in her voice. “Mate…”

Eight Years Later…

A silence fell over the Dominyen royal court. Queen Iseul barely hid her sobs, as her husband, King Minhyung spoke over the crowd of the twelve Dominyen Noble houses and their lieges, the slayers who did their bidding against the werewolf packs on their lands. “Prince Baekhyun has been found guilty of the murder of Lady Eunbi, his Erasthai and betrothed. It is according to our ancient customs that he must be sentenced to death to pay for his most unforgivable crime.”

Your breath hitched as you turned to your father from your smaller throne two rows down from his and your mother’s seats at the head of the court. Feeling the calming hand of your Novicitai, Yeona on your arm you turned to face her, yet her efforts to block out the overwhelming betrayal and grief your mother felt, combined with the fear of watching her only son’s execution was all in vain. Your stomach sank at the thought of having to feel the moment your brother died, the brother you held so dear. The brother, who for many years had been the reason you’d never have to face the burden of the crown, and the reason you’d never have to place duty over love. Baekhyun, your brother would be sentenced to death and you would have to watch his execution before your own eyes.

The court remains silent as Yeona looks to her mother, who stood beside your own mother, a soothing hand on her shoulder. She grips your hand like a soothing vice and whispers into your ear. “You cannot look away. If you do… they’ll all know.”

The marble floors of the royal courtroom open and a platform rises, holding your brother in chains with his head against a chopping block and the executioner with his pure Dominyen silver axe. Your eyes fill with tears as Baekhyun remains still. Your father speaks with authority over the court once again. “May justice be served.”

Your eyes remained transfixed on a single spot on the marble tiles, not looking at the execution but not looking away. You grip Yeona’s hand with such force that your knuckles are white and her hand is purple. As the executioner raises his axe, tears fall from your cheeks. The nobles are on the edge of their seats, some with opera glasses pressed right up to their eyes, others watching in shock.

The axe lowers, you jolt slightly, feeling the fear then the piercing pain as if the sword had sliced through your own neck and chopped off of your head. Your mother lets out a cry that shatters the silence in the court before she is ushered out by her Novicitai, Yeona’s mother. You raised a hand to your neck, the feeling of your brother’s death still lingering in the back of your mind. Your eyes avoid the scene of the floor being lowered once again, before your father speaks.

“It is with the best interests of our realms at heart, that I present to you my heir, Princess (Y/N), the council’s delight and the future Queen of Dominyens.” You rise from your seat, dropping Yeona’s hand as you step forward onto the balcony before you, eyeing the hundreds of nobles and representatives. Within moments, they all bend the knee to you, swearing their loyalty to you as your father’s successor.

Two Years Later, Present Day…

“Three months? Three months! Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Yeona grumbled, shaking you awake as she entered your room. Crossing over to your dresser, she began to pull out all of the clothes she could stuff into your duffle bag, while you got up from your bed. You’d supposed the near two years of running had been in vain, judging by the bare walls of your room in the college share house you’d manage to manipulate your way into.

“You’d think after two years they’d stop.” You could feel the waves of Yeona’s stress wash over you, and it ate at you. Her feelings slowly ebbed at you, as if your stomach was a sinkhole and it was gradually collapsing on itself. The curiosity ebbed at you, and you couldn’t help but ask, your voice no louder than a whisper. “Rogues or Guardians?”

“They’ll never stop, you’re too important, you know that. It's only Guardians, nothing we can’t handle.” Her voice sounded strong, and hid her emotions well. If you didn’t have the ability of feeling and influencing the physical and mental pain of others, you’d never have guessed her inner turmoil. Either way, her efforts to conceal her emotions would be in vain, after all, she was bonded to you as a Novicitai like her mother was to your own mother. Her emotions were your’s, as your’s were her’s.

“Baekhyun was important…”

Yeona paused her movements, and turned her attention from the array of her silver weapons in front of her to you, as you packed all the essentials into her purse. You could feel the hesitation, the mental pause before she stammered over her words. “Baekhyun was… well, he didn’t align with their values.”

“... and we do?” You looked at her, almost challenging her for a moment. For once you wanted to stop running, the whole reason you agreed to leave was not only because you feared the crown, but you feared the institution itself. The institution, under which your father so willingly watched and forced his wife and daughter to watch his own son publicly beheaded for a crime that… he may not have committed. You could tolerate the arranged Erasthai pairings, and the fanfare… but the killing, the public executions of family members. You drew the line at that.

If you thought about that day long enough, that feeling still lingered. The excitement of the nobles, the horror of your mother, the blade slicing through his neck, the fear… all of it. There were still nights when Yeona had to wake you from the nightmares, or face seeing them herself through your mental bond. You needed to leave, there was no other option.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, Yeona spoke with her usual calm and reserved voice but she now moved with more urgency as the Guardians outside were growing in numbers and it would be increasingly difficult to escape as morning drew closer. “I don’t, you do… and if you don’t, it doesn’t matter because they don’t care who you are as long as you can be who they want you to be.”

“Do you remember our drills?” She asks, handing you your duffle bag, which was stuffed to the brim with every personal and essential item you had. You tried to recall all the times Yeona had awoken you in the night, it was on random nights, but each time it was the same.

Get to the car, stay low, lock the doors, and wait for Yeona. It was clear her regimented training to be your sworn protector, and a Guardian still played a major factor in her personality. She always had to keep you on your toes, and keep herself fit. You still remember the jobs she’d gotten as a vet science student and a vet nurse. Funnily enough, animals never really seemed to like Novices, Guardians, or Slayers for that matter. They only seemed to like royal Dominyens. You’d supposed wherever you found yourself next would be the same. You’d be enrolled in high school, playing the role of a quiet loner and keeping a low profile. Yeona would be your older sister and ‘legal’ guardian as your parents were abusive, out of the picture, dead, or some other cover story. It was the same every time.

“I remember.” You answer with a small nod, pulling on a hoodie, and chucking its hood over your head. Yeona nodded, handing you your duffle and her purse. You could feel the pressure she felt, or more accurately, placed on herself. She gave you a small reassuring smile, though deep down you knew it was only for her benefit. “Good. It’ll be okay, alright? No pressure, but if they even suspect it’s you, we are totally fucked.”

“Right, no pressure.” You let a small smile come onto your face, trying to ease the situation. Yeona sighs and looks at you. You don’t feel it at first, but underneath all that tension, there is the flicker of amusement that you always manage to pull from her in moments like these.

She opens her arms slightly with a small giggle as you hug her tightly. She mumbles into your hair, as she squeezes you tight. “You need to remember what we’re running from to remember why we’re running in the first place. I promise you, this time will be different. No more running.”

“I know.” You say, the sweet moment you had just shared taking on a sombre tone. She’d always say there’d be no more running, and though you appreciate the sentiment, you just knew it couldn’t be true. She’d say this everytime, and everytime it would end the same. It is an endless game of cat and mouse. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Stay safe.” She mumbles into your hair, and you can feel the anxiety coming off of her in waves, and you can’t help but take the edge off. Slowly feeling her anxiety calming, you gather all of the stuff you’d carry down to the car parked in the alley below. The alley littered with Guardians.

No pressure, you’d thought to yourself, as you slung your duffle over your shoulder and Yeona’s obnoxiously large purse over your arm. Opening the door to the hallway of the boarding house, you slowly began to walk down the stairs. It was early morning, and you knew for a fact the only person who would be awake was the creepy gamer across the hall. It was dead silent, and in a way peaceful. Yet, this peace provided you no relief to the gut feeling that plagued you every time you had to run.

Maybe it was the rush of knowing Guardians wait in the alleyway just down the stairs and out the back door. Maybe it was the fact that Yeona had never pulled off one of her schemes against more than three Guardians, and by the way she felt, you knew there were more. Yet, maybe… deep down, you knew this would be the last time you’d ever see Yeona, because maybe it wouldn’t work this time, and maybe you’d have to admit defeat and face your duties. That thought felt like stabbing in your chest, the thought of having to give up Yeona, who in many ways, was like a sister to you, who’d been through so much for you. You couldn’t let this plan fall through, not this time.

You walked down the last few steps, and made it to the back door with relative ease. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yeona out the window, preparing her distraction. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you headed out the door, and down the path to where the old car, an early 2000’s Toyota Camery, Yeona had bought a year back had been parked. Opening the passenger side door, you get in, and the second you close the door, you lock it and shove the bags you’d been carrying into the back seat. Out of anxiety, you tighten the strings of your hoodie as Yeona ran over to the car.

Opening the door, and jumping in she locked the car, before you could even blink she had her foot on the accelerator. She looked mad, yet you continued to stay low in your seat, for fear of being seen, or being identified by the guardians. “They had samples of me too. They’re upping their game.”

You knew what this meant. Typically, royal Dominyens were bound to a Novice, or Guardian, who became their sworn protectors, like a friend or, better put, a sibling. This bond was called a Novicitai, expanding both from the physical aspect and to the mental. The bond had used to be common back in ancient times, when werewolves were savage creatures and blood witches had yet to be overthrown by elemental witches. However, as the supernatural world began to evolve into its modern form of diplomacy, the council, the bond had almost entirely faded out with evolution.

After Baekhyun’s execution, the Novicitai bond between yourself and Yeona had been unlocked. Through this bond, there were times where Yeona could see through your eyes, and into your mind without being born with your power. Among other things, she could feel your emotions, and channel your power if you were injured and needed her protection. Without the bond, the blood of a Dominyen royal was needed to activate this, thus the need for a blood sample. Your stomach sank.

Yet, it was not Yeona they were after. They were after you and your gifts granted to you by the Goddess Athena at birth, was both a blessing and a curse. The power to heal both physical and mental wounds at the expense of your own health made you powerful, but your power to feel the emotions and pain of others made you unstable. In many ways you were a powerful, but unreliable successor to the Dominyen throne.

“Good news is, there was a coven of slayers annihilated recently by a wolf pack in a town only a few hours from here. I could get you set up at the high school in that town, and there’s a university in the town over.” Yeona paused her words. She seemed optimistic enough about this prospect, and even though your eyes were shut from fatigue, you still felt the warmth of her optimism flowing through you. She continued in an even more positive tone. “If we up our game… the wolf pack might not even notice we’re there. We could be normal and make friends. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yeah… but how would we up our game?” You ask, noticing how she seemed to hesitate over your question. She knew the Guardians had upped their game, and had begun finding you two in increasingly shorter time spans of previous interactions. At first it took eight months, then six, five and four. Now it only took three months.

Yeona frowned, looking out at the motorway ahead of you. “I’ll have to think about it. You just focus on getting some sleep, okay?”

With a pat to your knee she continued down the motorway, and for some reason you just knew everything would work out. It had to, you’d put your life on the line for two years, and you, much like Yeona, thought it was time to enjoy your newfound freedom. Besides, what was a climb without enjoying the view?

The sun flooding in from the car windows lured you from the depths of sleep. Yeona didn’t notice you were awake for a few moments, before she mumbled out. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning.” You smiled softly, shifting up in your seat so you could see your surroundings. To your surprise, Yeona was pulling into a roadside diner, one of the ones that served the greasy but hearty breakfasts, and what she really needed, coffee. You didn’t notice it at first, but her fatigue hit you like a tsunami, and you had to brace yourself for a moment. “Woah, Yeona, let me.”

As you reached your hand out to give her some energy at the expense of your own, she softly caught your wrist. Shaking her head, she gave you a stern look. She was always like this, stern but meaning well. “No, not when you’re on an empty stomach and not when I’m driving.”

“It’s just energy.” You say with a small laugh, taking the hood off of your head and rolling up the sleeves of your hoodie.

Yeona shook her head, pulling the handbrake of the car and looking over at you with a worried look. “Energy that you need, too. After you eat, I’ll let you do it then.”

“Okay.” You sigh, pulling yourself from the car. You’d deny it to Yeona, but stretching your limbs felt amazing. You walked slowly to the entrance of the diner, Yeona having already made it into the restaurant in the first place, most likely to get a booth. Walking through the door, and sitting across from Yeona, you find her already drinking from a pot of coffee she’d ordered.

“You better look at the menu, she’ll be coming back to take our order soon.” She gives you a small smile, and you can tell she immediately feels better after drinking her coffee. It’s as if she didn’t even need the energy you so readily offered to give her. “Also, I’ve already enrolled you in the highschool there, so they’re expecting us to get your uniform this afternoon.”

“That was quick…” You let out a breathy laugh, reading over the menu as you did.

Yeona looks up from her own menu, as she mumbles out, careful not to have any prying ears of potential other supernatural creatures listening in. “I’ve been planning this move for a few weeks now. The annihilation of that coven was inevitable and their extinction has not yet been registered with the council. Technically, we could pose as the holders of their territory for a while. It’s a somewhat long-term solution.”

Most of the time, you trusted Yeona with this sort of thing, but something about this wolf pack felt off, like something big would happen that would change everything, and you didn’t think you wanted anything to change. You liked things the way they were. “I know you call these shots… but I was meaning to tell you that I think this whole overlapping territory thing with the werewolves… they’ll eventually notice. It’s too risky.”

“If we blend in then maybe… it’d work out.” Yeona raises her mug to her lips and takes a long sip of the scalding coffee.

“Blending in hasn’t been doing much good for us these past few times.” You try to reason, and though it is out of concern, you sense Yeona’s sadness and betrayal at the fact that you don’t seem to fully trust her on this.

“Well, maybe we’d blend in more if you made friends, and you’ll be able to at this new place. The office lady, Mrs. Min said that they have a very welcoming top student and sophomore head girl to give you a tour on your first day tomorrow.” She tries to sound convincing, but you don’t get the chance to respond before the waitress is walking over.

“G’morning ladies, what would y’all like to order?” She asked, her voice laid on thick with the ‘customer service’ persona she was presenting.

“Bacon and eggs please.” Yeona gave the girl a tight-lipped smile. It was clear she wanted to keep interactions with the waitress to a minimum, and you thought it best to follow her lead. You supposed it was because you still weren’t far enough from any overlapping territories with your location.

“Make that two.” You added with a soft smile.

“Anythin’ else?”

“Uh… maybe another pot of coffee.” Yeona suggested, looking at you for any confirmation. You nodded enthusiastically and turned back to smile at the waitress.

“Comin’ right up!” The girl smiled, and walked off back to the kitchen.

Yeona turned to you as silence fell over the near empty diner, with the other patrons being an elderly couple down the other hall of booths, and a truck driver sitting at the counter. “This will be a good start for us. I promise. Plus the flat I rented out is a major upgrade. It’s just a matter of finding a job now.”

A silence falls over the pair of you in the minutes it takes for your food to be delivered. You can almost feel Yeona’s emotional drain. As you began to eat your greasy but hearty breakfast, it didn’t even cross your mind to break the peaceful silence that befell over your booth. Now that you came to reflect on it, you were both sick of running.

The anxiety of always being found and having to skip out on normal teenage girl experiences had left you without anything to enjoy. All of this running, hiding and keeping a low profile–in many respects–had been for nothing. Part of you felt that, maybe you didn’t get to have those experiences because you were, in fact, not a normal teenage girl. You never could be from the get-go, because you were not a mortal, and no amount of wishing you were would make it so. Yet, you wanted to be.

The harsh reality you faced was that you wanted to be mortal, human, and free. Oh, to be free. You’d do anything for the privilege of being free. Free from the running. Free from the fear of being taken back to the gilded cage you inhabited by the people who wouldn’t stop looking for you. Lastly, you wanted to be free from the anxiety you felt every time you closed your eyes, for your fear of the nightmares that plagued you.

You couldn’t help but air the thought that constantly plagued your mind every time you moved again. “What if we have to run again?”

And, just like every time, Yeona placed a soothing hand on top of your own and looked deep into your eyes, and with a grave tone she gave you a reassuring smile; “I will make sure that we won’t have to.”

“I can’t believe I agreed to ask one of the Min twins so that we would be able to spend time together at this stupid dance tonight.” Jeno’s expression was painful, his voice may have been even more painful. Though most teen boys would froth at the mouth to even snag a date with one of the hottest twins in school, neither Jeno nor Jaemin seemed to care. Hana gave the muscular, much larger boy a scathing look. The dance tonight was supposed to be fun, but at the daunting thought of having to deal with one of the Min twins the entire night… he was filled with dread. “What? They’re insufferable.”

“That’s one word for it.” Jaemin scoffed out in agreement. While these girls were insufferable, they were still highly attractive, and many would say that it was almost expected for Jeno and Jaemin to ask them in the first place as the hottest boys in school, and respective captains of the Basketball and Wrestling teams.

“You guys are being mean. Micha and Nari are lovely.” Hana took a long sip of her black coffee, sinking into the cardigan she had wrapped around her as Jisung wrapped his arm behind her seat. Though she still wasn’t fully recovered, no one could deny how much progress she’d made, enough for Nayeon to allow her to go to the dance that night.

“No, because for once I agree with the twins.” Ryujin spoke, her mouth full of scrambled eggs and bacon, but nonetheless understood by the group at the breakfast table.

“I agree with Hana.” Renjun did not even need a moment to think of his stance now that the topic of discussion was on the Min twins and not how Hana was recovering or even the mere topic of mates. Though everyone knew that the topic of mates was… touchy for Renjun, the normally calm Beta had never found his mate, as far as the pack knew. Though, anytime the topic was brought up, he’d grow distant.

“Your opinion is irrelevant, you always agree with Hana.” Ryujin stated, as if she was the judge in a courtroom. Before Jisung could even move to defend Renjun, the feisty Beta pointed her finger at him. “Jisung, before you even say it we know you’re Switzerland and are, therefore, irrelevant in this conversation.”

“They’re nice to my beautiful and amazing girlfriend. So, they’re fine by me.” Jisung turned to Hana with a smile, who turned back to him for a moment, her coffee mug now resting on her knee, that was now propped up to her chest as she sat at the table. She gave the much taller boy a small peck on the lips.

“Irrelevant! He’s pussy-whipped.” Ryujin once again spoke as if she was the deciding factor on relevance, but then feigned vomiting with a vulgar gesture as her best friend once again leaned in to kiss Jisung, which had left Chenle laughing hysterically like a dolphin, even if his first instinct was to react the same as her.

“Fine! What makes them so terrible?” Jisung teasingly smiled at Ryujin pulling Hana closer to him as he spoke.

Simply enough, Ryujin gave him her answer. “They’re bitches.”

“To who?” Hana replied, as if it was a way to defend the Min twins who were not there to defend themselves. Even when everything she was told about someone was negative she still tried to see the best in them, even if it meant going against her best friend.

Ryujin’s expression had changed at that moment. No longer did she look like she enjoyed speaking to Hana as much as she’d done in the moments prior. She looked hurt and her expression resembled that of a kicked puppy. She could long hold in her thoughts, so they tumbled out in her overly-emotional rambling. “Me! And they’re far dumber than me, too! Any conversation of substance with them is about boys and gossip. Beyond that, they’re as shallow as a kiddy pool and they’re only care in life is when they’re gonna get their next mani-pedis. Oh! And they talk in sync and it makes me want to fuck myself gently with a chainsaw.”

“That just about sums it up.” Jeno agreed with a short laugh, scruffing Ryujin’s hair slightly, earning him a glare from her.

“We’re in for a painful night.” Jaemin agreed, even though it was his idea to begin with. If he was anyone else, Jeno would have probably punched him by now. Too caught up in their fates, neither Jaemin nor Jeno caught the incredulous look Hana had given Ryujin.

“Don’t look at me like that, Hana. We all knew I never was Mother Theresa. Even before… I became a werewolf.” Her voice was pitiful and almost whiney in tone, before it changed into a laugh, and she was consumed with giggles. She had to take a moment to compose herself, before raising her hands as a sign of peace, trying not to offend her packmates. “Sorry, I can never take myself seriously when I say it...”

Hana’s expression does not change, instead she sighs and takes another long sip of her coffee, before she speaks again. “Well… I form my own opinions on things.”

Sometimes Ryujin had to admit Hana wasn’t the easiest to be best friends with. She was perfect and every flaw Ryujin had was magnified when she was placed next to Hana. She would never be smart enough, never have a boyfriend perfect enough, never fit into the pack where she was clearly unwanted. Those were her deepest, darkest thoughts. She’d never air them, of course, Areum wouldn’t allow it. Or… maybe Areum would, after all, her sister seemed to have a clear favourite in Hana over herself. Nevertheless she opts for a light-hearted smile. “Well… clearly you’re not a totally unreliable source, since you have us.”

The drive had been long and quiet, with a thick yet comfortable silence. The once sunny morning had turned into a rather grim and rainy afternoon. As the beat up Toyota Camery drove down the lush and green highway, you found yourself watching the raindrops race down the window.

Out of nowhere, Yeona had broken the silence, just as she took the nearest exit off of the highway. Her focus still on the road, her proposal sounded more like an order than it did a question. She didn’t bother asking your opinion on the matter. “We’ll head over to the school tonight.”

“Okay.” You sigh. It had always become like this between the two of you when you had to move. Probably because every time you had to outrun them, you’d always swear it was the last time, though that statement never seemed to age well.

The drive only seemed to near an end as you began to see the mountain range in sight, shrouded in thick fog, and covered in dark green, lush trees. You could almost smell the earthy pine and rain from inside the car, and it seemed to enthral you for no apparent reason. Yeona could feel this excitement that had suddenly brewed within you.

It wasn’t long until she had turned down a side street, and pulled into a small parking lot, filled with other cars, most of them trucks, one camper van parked next to another truck. This town seemed to be the retiree’s dream, as you’d gathered from the walking distance of most places to this one apartment building.

Yeona pulled the keys from the ignition and smiled slightly at the humble apartment building before you. “Welcome to our new home.”

Yeona soon got out of the car, and made her way to the reception desk that sat behind a small sliding door. This building was not student accommodation, like your previous places had been, it was long-term rentals that were across four blocks of units with a central courtyard. It was humble, but nice. It didn’t take long for Yeona to walk out with the keys to the new apartment, and despite the raindrops setting into her hair, she yanked the door open and sat down in the drivers’ seat. “What are you thinking?”

“That this town isn't half-bad.” You turned to her with a small smile.

“Me too.”

She returned your smile, and then glanced back at all of your stuff littering the back seat of the car. You looked at her, and despite your mental fatigue you gave her a smile. “Where to now?”

“Well, the building manager had said that we should try Benny’s Beans cafe just a short walk down the main street.” She answered over the sound of the rain droplets slapping against the windshield and windows.

“And then?”

She lets out a sigh, knowing this would be the lesser of the two you would want to do. She knew you well enough to know that people, specifically people’s emotions, were bound to come in-clutch with school life. Ironically, it was something you wanted to avoid, feeling the emotions of others knowing you could not fix it, as mortals did not take kindly to things they did not understand. Specifically, the abilities you and others like you possessed. “We still need to go down to the school to finalise your enrolment and get your uniform all sorted for tomorrow.”

“Let’s do it, then. The school, then the Cafe.” You sighed, the dread filling you as Yeona started the car. It was going to be a long trip to the school, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of dread and excitement that had built inside you. It was a feeling that could only be described as impending doom, but maybe it wasn’t doom, because you did not feel damned. You only knew something was coming towards you, steadfast and at top speed.

The drive to the school was silent, rainy, and long enough that it had come to a slight sunset. It was hardly 5pm, but it was clear the town was ready to kickstart the evening early. One thing that was clear to the both of you was that this town had no night life, and the school dance was on that night. From the girls in pretty dresses to the boys, who had their hair slicked back and wore dress shirts. It was clear that the teens of the town had an event on, happening to fall at the same time as you were getting started. Maybe that is what you were dreading, the school dance that meant you’d have to pass your future classmates on your way to the administration office.

With a sigh, you found yourself getting out of the car before Yeona, and heading over to the main building. You turned back to the car, the slight drizzle of raindrops had begun to soak into your hoodie, that you impulsively zipped up to your chest. Raising your eyebrows you yelled out at the car, hoping she’d hear you from the piece or scrap metal that was her Toyota Camery. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

With a sigh, she gets out of the car, crossing her arms over her body, and her leather jacket now collecting the small raindrops that rolled down from her shoulders, not quite absorbing into the jacket. Her voice holds a level of caution and authority that she had only ever used when she felt you were in danger. “Let’s go.”

Her voice alone had told you everything you needed to know. This school was not entirely safe, and coming here was a definite risk, when you hadn’t had much of a chance to start ‘blending in’. At the wave of conflict that washed over you from her, you knew that she felt it was essential for this to be done today. Otherwise, the school would suspect you, and the prominent presence of a very powerful werewolf pack in this town, in every facet of its community, meant that she had to ensure all went smoothly.

“We’ll have to keep this brief.” She says with a curt voice, before smiling at some passers by, a couple of teenagers who were dressed to the nines. You could feel their excitement and butterflies, knowing from that alone it was most likely their first school dance.

Your eyes fluttered around the groups of people, landing on one particular large group. You saw the group, only about twelve dance-goers, and the rest being family. You could feel the annoyance of a few members of the group, and the complete love and adoration of a pair standing slightly off to the side. A girl in a sparkly blue dress, and a very tall, lanky boy with golden brown hair wearing a button-down shirt and dress pants. However, their feelings were short-lived in your mind when Yeona began pulling you towards the administration office.

“Hi, dears. You must be Yeona, called earlier is that correct?” The plump middle-aged office lady smiled. She was dressed in a bead-embellished blouse and wore a deep brown lipstick coupled with cheeks that were heavily coated in a pink cream blush. You noted that she too would be joining in the school dance festivities after you’d been and gone.

Yeona gave the woman a smile and a nod, holding you close by the arm, and though you sensed her unease, she still rubbed soothing circles on your forearm with her thumb. “Yes, thank you so much for taking the time to organise (Y/N)’s emergency enrolment.”

“That’s not a problem, Hon. I know how hard it is in a situation like your’s. I’ve organised our head girl, Hana, to give her a tour first thing tomorrow. It’ll be a later start due to the dance, it should be all on the school’s app.” The woman gave you a warm smile, before handing a small flyer to Yeona, and gesturing to the QR code as she mentioned the school’s app.

Yeona gave the woman a nod and tucked the flyer into her pocket. “Right, thanks for reminding me. I’ll have to download that.”

Pausing for a moment, the woman had positioned herself at her computer and began to type uncannily loud, akin to a receptionist. “So you are the legal guardian of (Y/N), correct?”

“Yes. I am her older sister. Bad family home, living together now. Court ruling a few months ago.” Yeona’s tone seemed to grow sadder, and knowing her performance you seemed to sadden your expression too, but not laying it on too thick as to be noticeable to the office lady.

“I am so sorry about your situation, girls. We’ll do our very best to be accommodating for your situation.” The office lady, or Mrs. Min, as you read from her name badge, had placed her slightly wrinkled hand atop your own.

“Thank you, Mrs. Min. I very much appreciate your kind words.” You gave her a small, sad smile, the best one you could muster, before pulling your hand out from under her.

The woman gave you a small smile. “It is a pleasure, my dear. So, uniform, timetable, textbooks and locker…”

The trip to the school ended as quickly as it had started, and by the time you had left, less students lingered in the parking lot, but the group from earlier remained taking photos from the school’s lookout point of the mountain range, the school itself sitting on one of the mountains that was smaller in front of the main range, where majority of the town was built.

Walking past the group to get to Yeona’s car, you felt eyes burn into you. Though you managed to ignore it, focusing more on how the wind blew hair into your face than the eyes burning into your side profile. It seemed as though you didn’t need to dread anything, all seemed well.

Even though the dread you felt had left you for the evening, a new onset of the feeling washed over you the following morning. This day seemed to arrive too quickly for your liking, but as you sat up, you saw your uniform, ironed and clean, hanging on your wardrobe door. You let yourself smile slightly, seeing a heart-shaped sticky note attached to the door, next to your hanging uniform.

Walking over to the wardrobe across from your bed, that was nothing special, just an ikea bed frame and mattress provided by the landlord. You pulled the note from the door, looking over Yeona’s loopy handwriting. “Gone for a job inquiry at the local vet clinic, breakfast and lunch are on the table, walk to school is short, and I’ll pick you up! - Wishing you the best of luck and much love, Yeona XO.”

You could feel the affection she put into every act of service she did for you. After all, it was her way. Placing the note back on the door, you pulled your uniform down from the wardrobe door and placed it on the end of your bed. Just like always you went through the motions of getting ready, having a shower, brushing your hair, doing some light makeup, and hiding the silver necklace you wore for protection beneath your school blouse.

Walking out into the open-plan kitchen-dining, and living area, you saw the steaming breakfast on a plate, next to a brown paper bag. Placing down your canvas tote on the chair next to you, you began to slowly dig into the feast before you. It was clear Yeona wanted to make sure you went to school feeling good, because she’d made your favourite, French toast.

Back when you still remained within the walls of the Dominyen royal palace, attending the Dominyen academy, and being a member of the Dominyen royal court, you could eat French toast for every meal if you desired it. However, after you’d fled your position within Dominyen society, French toast became a rarity. Now, you only had it when Yeona took the time to make it, or on the rare occasion Sunday brunches weren’t interrupted by having to run for your lives, or rather, your freedom.

You smiled down at the plate before you, seeing how she’d taken the time to get your favourite berry compote to go on top, with whipped cream and maple syrup. It made you feel all warm and happy inside, a feeling that had also become a rarity since your brother’s execution. Finishing up the affectionately made breakfast Yeona had prepared for you, you placed the plate and cutlery inside the dishwasher. Finally, you made a move to grab your lunch bag, locking up the small flat, before you made your way down towards the pedestrian sidewalk.

The walk down the main street of the town was peaceful, and quiet. You saw a few other students walking to school, all with umbrellas in hand, despite the morning being sunny with not a cloud in sight. Continuing your trek, you found yourself slowing as you made it up the walkway, bypassing the school’s parking lot. Glancing at your leather wristwatch, the time only showed it was 8:45AM, it was just over an hour until the day officially begun, due to the late start.

Though you made no attempt at rushing, instead, you made it to the administration office with plenty of time to spare. Pushing open the door to the office, you walked in, seeing Mrs. Min at the desk, with an overly peppy smile after a long night chaperoning at a school dance. “Oh! Good morning, (Y/N)! I take it your morning was good?”

“Yes, very, thank you for asking. How was your morning?” You gave her a soft smile, taking in the newly put up halloween decorations that littered the office, and probably the school halls too. The decorations alone were a sign that the days of summer were over, and that autumn was just beginning. You loved autumn, especially when it rained, it was beautiful.

“Oh! That’s wonderful! My morning was just fine, dear!” Mrs. Min smiled, eyeing you with a confused expression before continuing her formalities. “Hana will be here shortly to give you the tour! Did you want to stop by your locker first? You are quite early.”

“Uh… yeah. Is it okay if you give me some directions?” You were taken aback by her kindness, she was a kind woman. Old, but still kind, and it was obvious she was nearing her days of retirement. However, you did not think the woman would leave this town and trade it for a beachside one. Instead, it seemed that people who were born and raised in this town never left.

“Of course, sweetheart.” She gave you a small smile, giving you directions in a kind manner. Down the hall, and turn right at the doors to the auditorium. Your locker number was 364, and she took the liberty of writing down your combination for you.

You bid her a quick ‘thank you’ before heading out the office door and turning right away from the main entrance of the school. The hallways were practically deserted save for a few of the school’s star athletes who were finishing up their early morning practice. You could feel the slight pain in their muscles, as you passed two of them who were at their lockers, and eating Greek yoghurt from plastic pouches. Finally, you found the doors to the auditorium and took the right turn down the deserted hallway.

Your eyes scanned the locker numbers that were engraved on small, steel plaques overhead. 358, 360, 362, and finally, 364. You stopped, taking in the blue locker before you. You flung your bag behind you, so that you had more room to input your combination.Carefully, you read the numbers on the paper, inputting them and pulling the lock open. With a sigh, you looked over the empty locker, getting straight to work on loading all of your textbooks on the middle shelf, and hooking your bag onto one of the hooks on the bottom shelf. You looked around the locker and decided you’d need to decorate it with time. With a final glance at your new set up, you shut your locker, proceeding to lock it before heading back to the administration office.

The walk back to the administration office was short, but you noticed as time had passed, more students began to arrive. With some of them came the feeling of a severe hangover, and you knew it would take all of your efforts to block out the feelings of others throughout the day.

If there was one thing you hated about mortal school, it would be the constant feeling of teenage angst washing over you nearly every second of the day. You hated it, because you knew it was difficult to block out so many things at once, meaning the feelings would ebb at you until you were finally alone. It was both physically and mentally draining.

Once again you entered the administration office, seeing a girl with long dark hair that was curled in perfect waves that fell down her back. Holding the curls back from her face was a puffy velvet pink headband with beaded flowers and pearls sewn onto it. She wore her uniform to a T, with the exception of her tie which was the male version that hung loosely around her neck, and not the ribbon the girls wore. Lastly, her makeup was classic, with a warm pink blush over her cheeks and nose, and light brown, glittering eyeshadow, that was topped off with a classic nude blotted lip. She was beautiful, and aside from that, the gold badge sitting above the school crest on her blazer read ‘Head Girl’ in bold lettering. It was clear she was well-loved in this place.

“Ah! You’re back, and just in time. This is Hana, our head girl and your tour guide for this morning.” Mrs. Min smiles, as she looks back and forth between the two of you. “Hana, this is (Y/N). I’m sure you’ll make her feel welcome.”

“Of course! It’s lovely meeting you! Now, should we start over in the sciences and arts building?” She smiled, and you could feel her sincerity radiating off of her. She was a genuine girl, and you could sense it.

Since you didn’t know the school either way, you just gave her a short nod and a smile. “Uh… yeah sure… I don’t mind.”

Hana was nice, showing you around the school, telling you all the best spots to sit on sunny days like today, getting your school library card sorted and helping you find your classes. It was during her analysis of your timetable she sighed. “Well, it looks like that brings us to the end of our tour.”

She folded up your timetable and handed it back to you with a smile. “Don’t worry though, I’ll walk you to your first class since I have a spare. It’s English Literature for you, which isn’t as bad as it sounds. I have a friend in that class, his name's Jaemin. He’s super nice. You’ll have to join us all for lunch sometime!”

“Sure, I’d like that.” You gave her a small smile, your own voice much quieter than her’s, as she was more of an extrovert. She returned the smile as she stopped her walking outside a classroom door.

Before you turned to walk in, she gave you a sincere smile as she spoke. “Also! If you need anything, anything at all… please don’t hesitate to ask me, okay?”

Judging by her sincerity that you felt washing over you, she was kind and it was clear why she was well-liked. She was basically the perfect popular girl, everything many strived to be with seemingly minimal effort. “Thanks… I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Not if I see you first. Enjoy!” She nodded towards the door with a smile, which you returned before walking into your first class. The class all turned to you as you walked in, and while you didn’t dislike anyone you’d met so far, you disliked how the tour made you late for class. All their eyes burned into you and it made you feel queasy.

“Ah! You must be (Y/N). I’m Ms. Jeong, and it’s a pleasure to meet you!” She smiled, and turned her gaze out over the sea of students sitting at desks. She beamed when she finally spotted a spare desk next to a boy who didn’t take his eyes off of you, even after everybody else had turned back to their tasks.

“There’s a spare desk by the window. Since you’re coming so late in the year, I’ve prepared some extra credit assignments for you to do over the next few weeks. See me after class, yeah?”

“Perfect. Thank you, Ms. Jeong.” You gave her a small smile

“It’s my pleasure.” She returned the smile, and as you were walking over to the last spare seat, she continued with her lesson, speaking to her class about the use of intentional symbolism within a text.

The second you’d entered the room, Jaemin had felt his world shift. His eyes burned into you as he registered the strong smell of lavender, rain, pine and bergamot filling his senses. The scent made his heart race and mind go blank. He didn’t need to overthink this, or analyse it like he normally would. He already knew what was happening. It was imprinted within his soul from the moment he was born, and immediately he knew. He was meeting his mate.

However, something put him on edge, something that made his stomach sink, hands shake, and made him see red. The potent smell of wolfsbane and silver filled his senses, intermingled with your own. He couldn’t believe it at first, he refused to, but as you took your seat next to him, he knew his senses had not deceived him. The one person he would love unconditionally was the one thing he hated more than anything in the world. Anger had consumed him whole. What he didn’t realise is that you could feel it too, burning you as it washed over you in rough, unrelenting waves.

His emotions were impossible for you to block out, the burns of his anger feeling as though you were physically being burned. Your eyes welled with tears as your heart raced, because any attempts you’d made to block his powerful emotions were all in vain. The boy next to you did not once look at you. Instead his eyes burned down onto the paper in front of him, as his hands were a stark white, balled into fists as they shook slightly. You, on the other hand, stared at the clock with misty eyes, willing the tears in your eyes not to fall as you waited for the torturous lesson to end. However, he paid no mind to you, the only thing he could think about was your scent.

At first, he didn’t know what to make of it. After all, he had always vowed to himself to see whomever his mate was as everything he needed. Yet, as he sat there, inhaling the sweet scent shrouded in the potent stench of silver and wolfsbane, he couldn’t help but feel defeated.

Out of all things you could’ve been, from fae to witch, even a vampire… you had to be the one thing he hated most in this world. The one thing he’d kill for his own enjoyment if he so pleased… a Dominyen.

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mirandyficlists · 11 months

Text

Witches Mirandy

Not Harry Potter verse

Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered (mash up of HP/Bewitched/Charmed style witchcraft) by Blue eyed Devil http://blue-eyed-devil.livejournal.com/18444.html#cutid1

Once Upon an Andy Melanacious http://dvlwears-prada.livejournal.com/tag/user%3A%20melanacious

Practicalities of Magic by regal_cinnamon/inkwolf2222 https://archiveofourown.org/works/24537130/chapters/59245984

Queen’s Witch by Jah728 https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9675782/1/Queen-s-Witch

Queen’s Witch Interlude by Jah728 https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10438685/1/Queen-s-Witch-Interludes

Spellbound by Quinn-Heart https://archiveofourown.org/works/45357127/chapters/114115822

Toad Hunting (Queen’s Witch) by Jah728 http://jah728.livejournal.com/11995.html

The Candy Cottage by Ginstan https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12386838/1/The-Candy-Cottage

The Devil Meets the Witches by gchel https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133139/chapters/66258311

The Willow Witch by Elle_nic https://archiveofourown.org/works/19700875

White Wolf by TouchofHeavenlyLight https://archiveofourown.org/works/15285261

Harry Potter verse

A Parliament of Witches Series by Quickyoke

Most Like a Marshfire https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194014/chapters/24996594

A Case of Synesthesia https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554578

What Lingers in the Eaves https://archiveofourown.org/works/11645340

Violante in the Pantry https://archiveofourown.org/works/11833581

Climbing the Primordial https://archiveofourown.org/works/14182941

The Cerulean Dragon by Jazwriter http://archiveofourown.org/works/4278267/chapters/9689886

Two Sides of the Same Coin by Jazwriter http://archiveofourown.org/works/5276114/chapters/12175673

Veritaserum by Punky96 https://archiveofourown.org/works/12297702

#mirandy fic lists #mirandy fanfiction #mirandy fic #mirandy

19 notes · View notes

sapphyreopal5 · 28 days

Note

I wonder how long Genevieve has been into witchcraft.

Hello Anon, thank you for the ask. I think this is a hard question to answer, as I don't think she is necessarily part of a coven or anything like that. There's plenty of solitary practitioners if Wicca were to be her thing, which I highly doubt. I've also made plenty of very detailed reasoning using Gen's own words and such as to how I know some of the things she's done are in fact things you'd do in magical rituals. With the box magic example I gave, it sounds to me like she started doing this probably early on in their marriage. I believe she was speaking of a box he had while they were dating for a liquor or wine box she used for this so called "hobby" to "keep the marriage alive". She may not be necessarily chanting while doing these things or have vials in a mini pantry but it is the intent and ritual that still count. If anyone is interested in seeing more of my posts on this matter, go to the pinned post on my page and go to the 3rd Index page for links to these posts.

If she was only using witchcraft for good things like world peace, I'd be all for it but guess what? 9 times out of 10, people who get into witchcraft are looking to benefit themselves using it one way or another. Money, love, career, family, revenge, whatever, even if it costs another good soul their well-being. Most people care more about their own behinds than they do anyone else's. I think some of the confusion is in calling things like Wicca or Paganism the same thing as witchcraft. Believe me, they are NOT the same thing! You can be a practicing pagan who doesn't do witchcraft, just as you can partake in witchcraft without being a pagan.

I see another anti Gen blogger disagreed with Gen being into witchcraft in a recent post of theirs. In this, they accused someone of being right winged (whether it's me or not, I don't know). If that is the case, I want to take this chance to clear the air. I don't get much into politics that much for good reasons. To me, politicians are all liars who are in it to first benefit themselves. Most will flip flop their stance on things like abortion for the sole purpose of gaining voters (ahem, like the current president has). I will say I agree with what Jon Taffer, the host of the show Bar Rescue once said about his take on politics. He considers himself a social liberal but a financial conservative. I care about social issues but also like Jon said, many people care a lot about social issues that will work themselves out for this reason. A lot of people will bury their heads in the sand when it comes to the more practical issues and have a "let the smart people figure it out" kind of attitude. Certain social issues however I care about a lot more than others.

I am outspoken, I am not afraid of speaking my mind and I have no problem calling people out on their bullshit. I also do not conform to things for the sake of keeping the peace. I have said and done things that have upset people for multiple reasons relating to this and because I believe in sticking with the facts and side with whatever side I think is correct during a debate, friendships and familial bonds put aside. This has made me a target for some people on here arguing with me and saying things behind my back. I'm not ever going to be the most popular person or blogger or generally the most popular person in any respect, and I am okay with that so long as I am true to myself. I believe NONE in sugarcoating things, nor do I worship any human being. Don't like me, meh good chance I probably wouldn't/don't like you either. Everyone's got flaws, I have my praises and criticisms of just about everyone when I know enough. I am probably my own worst critic.

I happen to believe a lot of what Gen does is wrong for multiple reasons that literally has nothing to do with politics. For starters, I believe in the sanctity of children's private lives that she clearly doesn't respect. Do I care her children are in therapy for whatever reason? No, I was in therapy myself as a child and still am as an adult. I sure as hell have a huge problem with her speaking about her kids being in therapy publicly for example. Don't get me started on the crap about how we need to stop stigmatizing mental illnesses, DON'T EVER throw ANY kids' business into the mix. Don't bring ANY child's image or private information into the public realm.

Also, don't get me started on the whole changing her morning routine with the supplements every other ad. As a so called influencer, I think she's way too scattered-brained. Zero sense of brand loyalty. Yeah sure like other bloggers have said, there's the whole consumerism of being an influencer contradicting her so called being green message that led to her founding (or is it co-founding?) TOWWN. I don't care that much about people becoming influencers personally but I do care about them being deceptive about it. From a business standpoint, her lack of brand loyalty makes me not take her seriously as an influencer. You're supposed to pick a few brands you really like and go with them. Be able to answer people's questions about the brand's message, the ingredients in their products, BE A BRAND REPRESENTATIVE! That's what I think is the ticket for success as an affiliate marketer NOT having as many links as possible.

Think of people like Jennifer Aniston who is known for being a brand representative of Aveeno. We can delve into the whole argument as to whether or not this is her go to brand for her skin but she signed her deal back in 2012 and is one of the faces for that company. Brand loyalty, her skin looks great, bam. Draws people into buying Aveeno products because they think they're gonna look like Jennifer Aniston. Another lesser known woman I follow compared to Aniston but is in the influencer business is a woman named Emma Krokdal, Dolph Lundgren's wife. She is an influencer who has made multiple poolside posts wearing a certain brand of bikini called Berlook. This makes sense for her because she's always been someone who enjoys being by the pool and is also into fitness and travel. She again sticks with this brand, has worn multiple suits in her posts and has the same code in multiple posts of hers. It's easy to keep track of this code (for her and for us followers!), so more people can use to get a discount at this store AND go towards her "commissions" or whatever you want to call them. She's also quick to respond to comments including questions about what she's wearing in her posts for example.

She might be new to this brand and possibly the influencer thing in this fashion but I would take her approach to being an influencer much more seriously than I ever could Gen's. Just some food for thought on this subject matter.

#anti genevieve #black magic

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nalgenewhore · 2 years

Text

agree to disagree

modern au, witch!elide + carpenter!lorcan + domestic/romantic fluff, word count: 3515

Coming home from work, Lorcan had gotten used to finding his fiancée with her nose buried in some centuries-old looking leather-bound book, or brewing something in her fully functional iron cauldron. It didn’t phase him anymore, not even when she would look at him through plumes of herbal scented steam with frizzy hair looking like a mad scientist.

So tonight, when he returned to find she’d taken over their kitchen with piles and piles of fresh plants, he merely gave her a pleasant grin. Elide gave him a distracted hello as she bound together a bunch of rosemary with twine. “Hi, love. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Work was,” he grimaced as he put down his very heavy bag of carpentry tools, “ok.” He tried to stretch the strain out of his shoulder.

Elide frowned a bit, noticing the tension in his arm. “What happened?”

Lorcan shrugged, “Did something weird to my shoulder. I’ll be fine.”

She gave him an exasperated look – Elide never thought he took injuries seriously enough. She wasn’t exactly wrong. “Lor…” she sighed, shaking her head.

He grinned as he circled the kitchen island to hug her from behind. “What,” Lorcan asked, nosing her errant hair out of the way. He laid a little peck against her neck.

“You should go soak it.” She moved towards her pantry – Lorcan had built her a walk-in pantry for all her witchcraft supplies as a housewarming present – and he went with her, refusing to let go. Elide opened the door, a wave of something medicinal hitting them square in the face. She passed him a thing of tightly wound sage and lavender. “Here, put this in water. It’ll help.”

Lorcan leaned around, kissing her cheek as he took the bundle from her. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He left her to her affairs and headed off to their bathroom. Several large bundles of plants and shoots hung from every available space around their quaint bungalow. Lorcan had to duck his head many times to avoid getting slapped in the face with some drying aromatic.

Three large bunches of eucalyptus hung from the bathroom door frame. He shook his head fondly and gently moved one aside so he could step in. Just as he was about to close the door behind him, Elide came running down the hall. “No, don’t close it, please,” she cried, skidding to a stop.

He looked back at her with a brow raised.

“Please,” Elide pleaded, one hand grabbing the back of his jeans. “They need to hang undisturbed, and I’m running out of space.” She made her eyes big, going as far as to pout her lower lip. He hated that lower lip and everything it did to him. More accurately, he loved that lower lip and her pout and everything it did to him. “Since you’re just having a bath, will you please not move them?”

After putting the bundle for his bath aside, Lorcan turned to fully face her, crossing his thick arms over his chest. Elide’s hands migrated to his stomach, her pinky slipping past the waistband of his jeans and boxers to stroke his bare skin. It was a dirty move, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “What if I have to use the toilet? I don’t want to… go,” he gestured, “with the door wide open.”

She rose on her toes to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.” Elide gave him another peck, “I’ll make it worth your while…”

He caved, not because of her implied promise of sexual reimbursement, but because Elide Lochan had some power over him he could not explain. Gods, he couldn’t wait for her to be his wife. “Ok, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” Lorcan put his hands on her waist to pull her flush against him. He dipped his head, capturing her lips in a slow embrace.

She hummed gently, her own hands moving to cup his face. “Thank you, baby,” she mumbled. Elide pulled back a little, searching his eyes, “It’s just for a little while, I promise.” She kissed him, "Ok?"

He kissed her back, now wrapping his arms around her waist. “Mm-hmm.”

Lorcan groaned softly when Elide slid her hands to his chest and pushed him back. “You need to soak.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, reluctantly letting her go.

Elide twisted away and strolled back to the kitchen, her hips swishing side to side. Lorcan drank in the sight of her before heeding her advice to soak. The job he’d been working on was a big one. Once he finished, he’d earn a huge amount – some would help with the wedding, though what they had planned was essentially an elopement, and the rest would go in their savings. Still, building a custom house from the ground up was no simple or quick task. It was gruelling work, and he was beginning to feel its strain on his body.

Lorcan drew himself a bath, tossing in the dried sage and lavender. Once there was enough water, he didn’t waste anymore time. He pulled his hair out of the hip-length braid it had been in all day to twist it into a mass on top of his head.

As he lowered himself into the bath, a satisfied groan escaped him. He rested his head on the lip of the tub and sank deeply into the nearly scalding water.

For the next while, Lorcan sat unmoving, listening to the sounds of his fiancée – he loved calling her that – moving around their kitchen.

He was almost asleep when Elide walked in.

“Hiya, honey,” she sang. She pulled the small teakwood stool to the bath and perched herself next to him. Elide lovingly brushed her hand over his brow. "I brought you some water so you don't overheat." She knew just how hot he liked his baths.

He hummed, gently rousing to slit his eyes open.

She giggled, “Feeling good?” She held the glass of iced water closer, angling the straw towards his mouth.

He took a grateful sip. Lorcan nodded slowly. “Yeah… this is nice,” he murmured. “What’s, um,” he gestured towards the ceiling and the doorway, “what’s all this?”

“Oh,” Elide sighed shortly. “I’m such an idiot, I’ve been running low on almost everything, so now I have to get it all done in one go.” She laughed a bit, “It really would be easier if I had a real thing to hang everything from like a rack, but from the ceiling.” With a shrug, she changed the subject and offered him more water. “There’s dinner when you want it. I made xarista and xaimoko.” Both were Blackbeak traditional food: fried cornbread and a thick, spiced rabbit stew.

He smiled, “You’re my dream girl. What’d I do to get you?”

Elide fondly rolled her eyes. “Something real special I bet.”

Soon enough, Lorcan’s fingers became pruny, and he had to get out. Elide said she’d leave him to dry off and get dressed, but if she got distracted by his lips and wandering hands, that was her business alone. He sent her off with a little slap on her ass.

While he got dressed in their bedroom, a thought nagged at him. For her practice, Elide needed to dry various plants all the time, and she always had to rig some precarious set-up. He couldn’t count how many times he’d saved her from crashing to the floor while she attempted to string something up high.

Lorcan joined Elide in the kitchen and nudged her towards the dining nook as she got down bowls and plates. He served them both some of the stew and a piece of cornbread, then carried it over to her.

He always ate like he didn’t know where his next meal was coming from, but who could blame him when it came to Elide’s cooking? She was a master in the kitchen.

He saved the very last bit of his stew and fried cornbread. Lorcan neatly scooped it all into bite and presented it to Elide. Though she had her own, Elide still accepted his offering. Her fiancé wasn’t one for words but actions. The connection found through food was something he especially valued. “Thank you, baby.”

In response, he gave her a small smile that he always reserved for her.

Elide finished the rest of her meal and gave him the last bit of hers. Lorcan accepted the bite, then pulled her close for a kiss. “That was amazing, sweetheart.”

“Mmm, thank you. I figured you’d want something hot and filling after your day.” She stood up, making to gather their dishes, but her fiancé stopped her.

“Let me. You made dinner, it’s only fair.”

“And you’re injured, you should take it easy.”

“Lee, I’m pretty sure washing and drying a few dishes won’t harm me.”

She squeezed by him, grabbing the dishes from his hands. “You don’t know for sure…”

Lorcan followed her, “Lee—“

Elide abruptly pivoted back, “You know, many hands make light work.”

“Yeah?”

“So,” she grinned wickedly, “the faster this is done, the faster we can, um, go to bed.” She gave him a pointed look.

A slow grin spread across his face. “I didn’t think about it like that, you know.”

Elide and Lorcan never knew that a kitchen could be cleaned so quickly.

✵✵✵✵✵

The next day, Lorcan didn’t have to go to the house, and Elide had a double shift at the restaurant. He got up early to drive her into work.

Elide leaned over the console to kiss him. “Thank you for the ride,” she said. “I won’t be home till late, ok?”

He grinned, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll survive,” Lorcan joked. “D’you want me to pick you up after?”

“Love, you don’t have—“

“Yes, I do. I’d rather stay up late than you take the bus home, or spend a bullshit amount on an Uber.”

She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. “Ok, baby. I’ll see you later, then.” Elide pulled away, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he told her. As she got out of the truck, he said, “Have a good shift, sweetheart.”

Elide waved at him while he pulled onto the street.

Instead of going straight home to get another few hours of sleep, Lorcan drove to the nearest lumber yard. He had been thinking about a way to solve Elide’s plant-drying issue and figured he could finish it within a day. All that was needed was a lattice horizontally hung from a handful of hooks from the ceiling. He’d make it fit just right in her pantry. It was the perfect environment, dark and dry.

Lorcan picked out a few pieces of ironwood at the yard. He loaded it into his truck bed and got home quickly, eager to start on Elide’s gift.

Exactly like he’d expected, it was an easy project. Lorcan took very careful measurements of the pantry ceiling. He cut every piece he needed, nailed and glued them together for good measure, then sanded everything by hand. Lorcan had a small pot of quick-drying wood oil that he rubbed on the lattice with an old rag.

The trickiest part was covering everything in her pantry with plastic sheets so no dust would disturb her supplies as he drilled small hooks into the ceiling.

After hanging it up, Lorcan tidied up, putting all his supplies back in the backyard workshed. Then, looking around their home, he figured Elide would appreciate it if he took the time to transfer some of her wound bundles. Lorcan had attached hooks along every piece of wood and simply hung the drying plants by the twine.

Once he was done, there was still plenty of room, considering the lattice ran end-to-end of her pantry. Lorcan took a picture of it, but he didn’t send it to his fiancée; he wanted her to be surprised.

For the rest of the day, Lorcan finished some odd jobs like fixing the squeaking hinges on their bedroom closet.

He pored over the drafts of the house he was building, making minor changes and scrawling notes on the side. The house owners had recently sent him a list of materials they wanted for the floors, so he wrote down in his notebook which warehouses he’d visit soon. All in all, the project was well under its generous budget, and Lorcan knew the owners would be pleased.

He could hardly wait to bring Elide home and show her what he’d built for her.

✵✵✵✵✵

Her feet ached. Her back ached. Even her cheeks ached – Elide hated that she always had to have a bright, shining grin for the customers. As far as she was concerned, as long as the customers were being served and she was minding her manners, they didn’t need to see her façade of constant joy.

It made her feel deranged. Nobody was that happy while pulling a double.

Elide yanked off her apron and shoved it in her bag, having finished her cash-out and collecting her tips from the pool. She didn’t typically mind tip-pooling unless she was working with Remelle. The woman hardly did any work and preferred obnoxiously flirting with the bartender, even though everyone knew Rowan was unavailable. Elide had spent both of her breaks complaining on the phone to Aelin, the bartender’s very serious girlfriend and her best friend, who just laughed and arranged to drop-in later.

The look of disgust on Remelle’s face when Aelin had arrived to lean over the bar and plant a territorial, bright red lip-stick print on Rowan’s cheek had made it all worth it. The coffee Aelin had brought for Elide from her café was just icing on the cake.

Elide said good-bye to the back of house staff as she walked out through the kitchen, wishing them a good night. She pushed open the creaking metal door, finally able to breathe in fresh, crisp air. She sighed into the night, dark eyes quickly spotting a familiar pickup truck and an even more familiar man leaned against it.

Lorcan lifted one hand.

She smiled widely and quickly made her way down the back steps. Elide ran towards him. Once she was close enough, she launched herself in the air without warning, knowing that he would catch her.

Sure enough, she landed in his arms.

“Hiya, handsome,” Elide said, twining her arms around his neck.

Lorcan slowly lowered her to the ground, his hands on her hips. “Hiya, beautiful.” He bent his head, kissing her cheek. “How are ya?”

“Exhausted,” she told him. “It was just one thing after another.”

He frowned a bit, “That bad, huh?”

Elide nodded. “Uh-huh. Remelle was in full-force today.” He rolled his eyes, having heard about her coworker from both Elide, Rowan, and Aelin. He had his own less-than-pleasant encounters with Remelle, too. “Aelin stopping by was the highlight of my day.”

Lorcan grinned, “I’d pay good money to see that.”

Laughing, Elide said, “I’ll see if I can get Malakai to let me see the security footage. You should’ve seen her face, I thought she was going to pop a vein."

They moved to get into the truck. Lorcan insisted on walking around the other side to open Elide’s door for her. After she climbed up with some help from him, she kissed him. “I missed you,” Elide murmured.

“I missed you too.”

If any of their friends witnessed such a sickening display of their infatuation and utter adoration, Elide and Lorcan would never hear the end of it, but they really wouldn’t mind. What was the point of being in love if one was embarrassed of it?

Lorcan got behind the wheel and smoothly pulled out of the alley. The drive home was short, in part because they lived nearby and also because hardly anyone was on the roads.

When they parked in their small driveway, Lorcan stopped Elide before she could get out.

“I want you to do something for me,” he said while holding up a folded bandana.

She looked at it, then back at her fiancé with a conflicted expression. “Babe, I’m not in the mood for blindfolds tonight," she said sadly, wishing that she had the energy.

“No, no, it’s not that,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Get your mind out of the gutter, sweetheart. I promise it’s nothing about sex.” Lorcan gave her an imploring. “Will you trust me?”

Elide nodded. She always trusted Lorcan, and she wanted to know what he was up to. Maybe he’d dealt with their squeaky closet door – she'd fall in love with him all over again if he had. “Sure.” She turned around so he could tie the bandana over her eyes.

“No peeking, ok?”

She laughed, lifting a hand to touch the material covering her vision. “I can’t see anything. You’re going to have to help me walk, you know.”

“I know, just sit pretty for a moment. I’ll be right there.”

Elide heard him open the door, then felt the cab shake when he pushed it shut. Her heart hammered with anticipation as she waited. Barely any time had passed until he was opening her door and taking her hands. “Ok, let me help you down.” Lorcan gently took her waist and lifted her out of the seat. He set her on the ground, then locked the truck.

He guided her up the river rock stepping-stone pathway and told her when to walk up the short front steps. Elide held on tightly to the hand he kept on her waist. She trusted him, but she had two-left feet even when she could see freely. Lorcan reached beyond her, his chest bumping her head, to open the front door.

“Alright, just step inside, Elide. Watch the transition strip.”

Elide carefully stepped inside. She felt along the wall for the entryway bench. Once she found it, she sat with caution to take off her shoes. Elide heard Lorcan toeing off his boots, and then he took her hand, pulling her to her feet.

She laughed softly, “What did you do?”

“You’ll see in a sec, be patient,” Lorcan said.

Elide grumbled beneath her breath as he led her down the hall. Through spatial memory, she knew they were in the kitchen now, nearing her pantry. “Lor…”

He adjusted her position, “Ok, stay right…here. Don’t move, and no peeking, Lochan.”

She huffed but did as he told her. She just wished he would hurry up.

Lorcan shuffled around and opened the pantry door. He returned to standing behind her. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, please,” Elide laughed.

He gently pulled the blindfold away, waiting with bated breath.

Elide blinked a couple times as she got used to the light. She looked into her pantry, not seeing anything changed until she noticed how everything she’d needed to dry was hanging from the ceiling. At the realisation, she gasped loudly, stepping in to inspect it closer. “Lorcan,” she said, mouth agape. He’d constructed a wooden grid with small hooks to hang and dry her herbs. Elide whirled around, seeing how he’d cleared her bundles from every available space and put them up, each kind of bunch relegated to its own section. “You made this for me? And you organised it how I like it?"

He stepped closer too, lifting a hand to touch one of the wood pieces. “If it’s not working, I’ll change it. I used a quick drying oil, too, just ‘cause I wanted to get it up quick, but I can fix—”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, stopping his uncertainty with a hard kiss. Elide poured all her love into it, wanting him to feel it. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” she whispered.

Lorcan chuckled, “I’m not—”

“Shut up, yes, you are.” She pressed a series of soft pecks against his full lips, then marked them over his cheeks and nose – everywhere she could reach. “You're perfect. I love it, baby. I love you.”

“I love you,” he told her. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Uh, I love it,” Elide corrected him.

He smiled, his hooded eyes crinkling, “I’m glad you love it, then.” Laughter bubbled up as she remembered that before the reveal, she’d been excited just thinking that he’d fixed the hinges of their closet door. Lorcan’s brows drew together in confusion. “What’re you laughing at?” When she told him, a big grin appeared on his face. “I guess it’s your lucky day, ‘cause I fixed that too.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Shut up, you did not.”

“Indeed I did. All it took was a little oil, tightening some hinges…” he shrugged, “good as new.”

Elide hugged him, unable to quell her smile. “I’m the luckiest person in the world to have you.”

Lorcan rubbed her back, “You can’t be the luckiest person in the world, ‘cause I am. I mean, I’m great and all,” he joked, “but I’m no you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I think we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

“Agreed.”

✵✵✵✵✵

an: xaimoko and xarista are both romani foods! i hope u enjoyed bc theres nothing i luv more than elorcan being obsessed with each other n so so sooo in luv 🤭🥺

taglist (lmk if u want to b added): @sassyhobbits @empress-ofbloodshed @the-regal-warrior @gwynethhberdara @icecream52

#elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #nalgenewhore #isa writes

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