#perhaps because of a sudden chill wind

[queen-susans-revenge]

Hi there, if you have time, could you please point me to the folktales where the elves are revolted by the English language?

So @hashkivenu , good question. In truth I was told that, by an Irish storyteller, and I also have a vague memory of reading something that backed it up...but I've been looking through my reference books and I can't seem to find the story I remember. (It was like a variant of "The Legend of Knockgrafton," except instead of being offended that the second singer sang the wrong days of the week, the fairies were offended that the second singer sang in English.)

I'm still going through my written sources trying to find this...I swear I remember it! But the more I comb through my reference material, the more I have to admit that my original claim was overstated, and incorrect in a few particulars.

Firstly, they aren't really elves, or fairies either. They're the people of the mounds, the Aes Sídhe, and to believers it's not actually considered safe to talk much about them at all: naming them may draw their attention, which is dangerous. So they are generally referred to with euphemisms, like the "good neighbors," the "other crowd," or simply them.

Belief in the other crowd continues in some parts of Ireland to this day, although it is dying out, but as recently as 2003 Eddie Lenihan—a folklorist and a believer who has launched successful campaigns to preserve places sacred to Them from highways and other urban expansion—was able to collect (with Carolyn Eve Green) a book's worth of material titled Meeting the Other Crowd: The Fairy Stories of Hidden Ireland. Some of these are stories handed down through the oral tradition, and some are first-hand accounts. It's the most modern work I know on what's sometimes called "the fairy faith".

And in Lenihan's work, the Good People are not automatically hostile to English speakers. He still notes in multiple places that their native language is Irish, for instance on pages 64 and 299 ("In the second story above, note that the changeling speaks Irish. This was commonly believed of the fairies, that Irish was—and is—their native language.") For an older attestation to the idea that fairies only speak Irish, see Lady Augusta Gregory (1920) in the second series of her Visions and Beliefs in the West of Ireland:

As to the book she told me of that had come from the unseen and was written in Irish, I think of Mrs. Sheridan's answer when I asked in what language the strange unearthly people she had been among had talked: "Irish of course—what else would they talk?"

But it would seem that there has been a softening in the fairy tradition, and they are no longer believed to react to English speech with hostility or outright violence.

But you have to understand that language was a real battleground in Ireland. The Irish language was brutally repressed by the English. During the Penal Laws it was completely outlawed. Irish manuscripts were burned. Children in school had to wear a stick on a piece of string around their necks: each time they used Irish during the day, a notch would be cut into the stick. And at the end of the day they would be beaten as many times as there were notches on the stick.

So the language itself was a locus of resistance, and the legends of the Fair Folk, being deeply tied to the language and the land, were part of that resistance.

Because like I said in the earlier post, Irish is a magic language. The satirists of legend were known to place terrible curses on their enemies. There were seven grades of poets (the bards, so familiar to us now from D&D, were actually a lower order of entertainer) and the filí at the top outranked even druids in social hierarchy and magical power according to some sources (e.g. the Uraichech Becc). These elite poet-storyteller-magicians were believed to be able to prophesy the future or even speak a new reality into being.

There is a sense in which mythic Irish history begins with an act of magical speech: The Song of Amergin. There are figures that come before Amergin in various histories (and about them more in just a second), but he is the one who named Ériu/Ireland and invoked its spirit with a powerful incantation that quelled storms and established his right to sovereignty over the land:

Am gaeth i m-muir, Am tond trethan, Am fuaim mara, Am dam secht ndirend Am séig i n-aill Am dér gréne, Am cain lubai, Am torc ar gail, Am he i l-lind, Am loch i m-maig, Am brí a ndai, Am bri danae, Am bri i fodb fras feochtu, Am dé delbas do chind codnu, Coiche nod gleith clochur slébe Cia on co tagair aesa éscai Cia du i l-laig fuiniud gréne

I am the wind on the sea; I am the wave of the sea; I am the bull of seven battles; I am the eagle on the rock I am a flash from the sun; I am the most beautiful of plants; I am a strong wild boar; I am a salmon in the water; I am a lake in the plain; I am the word of knowledge; I am the head of the spear in battle; I am the god that puts fire in the head; Who spreads light in the gathering on the hills Who can tell the ages of the moon Who can tell the place where the sun rests

So. With "the word of knowledge," with the blessing of "the god that puts fire in the head"—with speech, with poetry, with language—Amergin and his people took possession of Ireland. (When exactly this was supposed to have happened is hard to say. There's different versions of the Song of Amergin in different medieval texts, but it's obviously from an older, possibly much older, oral tradition.)

And who, according to the stories, did Amergin and his people claim the land from? From the Tuatha Dé Danann, the folk of the goddess Danu. And partly with their consent: three kings of the Tuatha Dé Danann had to be defeated in single combat, but three queens gave Amergin their permission.

And it is possible to draw a direct line from the Tuatha Dé Danann to the Aes Sídhe. Because after they lost the right to rule Ireland, they were said to retreat under the hills and to the Otherworld. So from the beginning the Fair Folk represented a kind of dispossessed grandeur, a lost heritage...an undying legacy. And a dual nature, some of them hostile and some benevolent.

I think it makes sense that They have softened toward English speakers as the English have stepped back from their oppression of the Irish. Children obviously no longer need to wear the bata scoir, the tally stick, in school. (In fact now they tend to complain about being forced to study Irish, rather than being disallowed from speaking it!)

I personally am not a believer in the fairy faith, but I try to be respectful. To the best of my understanding, should you ever meet one of the Aes Sidhe, it is not really respectful to speak to them in English. And to be perfectly clear, it is not safe to speak to Them, or even of them, under any circumstances, whatever language you choose. We are testing our luck right now, dear Reader, you and I together.

[gtgbabie0]

-Finnick Odair x reader

{Quiet moments between you and Finnick when you can’t sleep}

I hope you enjoy my lovelies! 💕

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Winter was in full force, with harsh winds that nipped at your skin. Not even the fireplace could fend off, let alone the fluffy covers that you’ve layered upon your shared bed. Perhaps it was the cold chill in the air that prevented sleep from capturing you, or maybe it was something else entirely… you decide to not let your mind wander to what that could possibly be.

You sit up wrapping your cotton shawl around your shoulders tightly as your eyes scan across your room, dimly lit by the small sliver of moonlight that peaks behind the curtains and stretches across the floor trailing along the wall.

Finnick doesn’t stir with your movement which means he must be exhausted because he’s often a light sleeper, although you’re not surprised with the busy day he’s had. You smile softly down at him, the way his cheek is smushed against the soft pillow. You gently push his hair away from his closed eyes as you admire him, you’re glad he’s found comfort beside you.

The thought crosses your mind to wake him up, he’s always told you that if you can’t sleep to wake him up, he wouldn’t mind. But looking at him now, you just can’t bring yourself to do it, you’d feel far too guilty.

Instead, you decide to make your way to the kitchen, but not before putting on a pair of thick socks, after all, the tiled floor always felt much colder in the dead of night. Perhaps a warm drink would help lull you to sleep? You think to yourself as you fill the kettle.

You cringe slightly as the water begins to boil, squeezing your eyes shut at the sudden loud noise. Finnick had brought all types of different teas with the hope that one of them might help you get a good night's rest, he’d do anything if it meant you were happy.

You remember when he brought them home, two whole bags full of boxes with different kinds of ‘sleep treatments’ it brought tears to your eyes.

Finnick was always sweet to you, it shows in the way he looks at you, the way he holds you, and the sweet nothings he whispers to you whenever you feel down. You start to miss him, even though he’s only in your shared bedroom, the room next to the kitchen, fast asleep.

You pour the hot water into the small ceramic mug, the same one Peeta had gifted you as a congratulations for your engagement, he had hand painted them, beautiful flowers that swirl around the cup.

Soon enough the sweet smell of the tea reaches you, soothing the restless feeling that builds up within your chest. You take a small sip of the warm beverage as Finnick wanders through the kitchen, eyes heavy with sleep.

“It’s freezing out here honey” his voice is rough despite the softness of his tone, exhaustion hangs on his every word. he shuffles closer to you, bringing his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as if he’s trying to protect you from the chill that lingers within the air.

A sigh falls from your lips when he presses a kiss to your forehead, his hands soothing against your back as you rest against him. Even in the safety of his arms the guilt still bubbles up within you, “Did I wake you up?” You ask, pushing your face against his shoulder.

“No, was already awake” he’s lying but you decide not to fight him on it, far too distracted by the warmth of his hands as they slip underneath your shirt, fingers splaying across your lower back. “Can’t sleep without you anyway” he says, pulling back to get a better look at you, the truth of his words are shown through his eyes.

“M’sorry” you mumble into the soft fabric of his shirt, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me” The words come out much heavier than you’d like and it strikes a cord within Finnick, one that pinches his heart.

He tuts softly as he leans back slightly, holding your chin with his finger and thumb. “Hey,” he whispers, tilting your head to look at him. His eyes immediately soften as yours find his, “Don’t apologise, honey, it’s what I’m here for, yeah?” He smiles, seeming more awake than he was just mere minutes ago.

“I know, I just- I don’t want to be too much” The words feel silly as they escape your lips but your chest feels lighter for it. You know deep down you shouldn’t feel like this, Finnick has never made you feel anything but loved.

“Too much?” He repeats after you as if you had just said something that had completely baffled him, and it did. “There’s no such thing, sweetness,” he tells you, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I love you- so much” he whispers against your lips before kissing you, not letting your mind wander elsewhere for even a second.

“I love you too Finn” you exhale, eyes closing as he rests his forehead against your own, your noses bumping against each others slightly.

“Come on, it’s warmer in bed,” he says, unwrapping his arms from around you as he picks up the tea you had made, “I got this, you go get into bed honey” he smiles and you know better than to fight him on it, so you do as he says, climbing back into the cosy bed with Finnick following shortly behind you.

He hands you the warm beverage before joining you, his hand slipping into your own as you take small sips of your drink. He talks about the market, how they're starting to sell that one specific seasonal bread you like, and he even begins to make plans for the weekend with you. his voice clams your nerves, it brings peace.

"Thank you, Finnick" you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder as he pulls the blankets over your legs.

He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing soft kisses to your knuckles, “Always for you” he says, voice heavy with sleep once again. You set your mug on the bedside table before turning back to him, and for the first time tonight, you start to feel yourself drift off as you lay in his arms.

Finnick could admire you forever without wanting anything, study every ‘imperfection’ and fall even more in love with you. He would pour his heart out to you right now if he wasn’t so tired so instead he settles for a simple, “G’night beautiful” with love dripping from his tone, and soon enough you both find sleep.

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[k0yaz]

engraving.

Pairings: ei x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, goddess au, devoted reader, blood, wlw, uh idk ei being angy, reader fucking dies, because she’s a simp, READER IS FUCKING WEIRD LOWKEY, can be angst??mild horror, weird power dynamic / difference idk, wrote this at 12 I have school in the morning god pls help, ei lowkey insane ngl maybe even ooc a bit but it’s ok her character is…something! (Fuck you for that hoyo) greasy places ew, obsessive reader, not proofread.

A/N: part of @edgeray ‘s Halloween event! 🕯️

Chilling shivers vibrate along your spine in a surge of pure fear embedded within you, complimenting the cool shocks of steel sparking against the bottom of your chin, flat against the sharpened blade. You meekly looked down at your knees folded back and knelt onto the hard wooden floor, hunching your shoulders to avoid eye contact with a goddess present before you while you groveled like a dog at her ankles.

Ei clicked her tongue in disapproval at your lowered face of shame, making the rush of trepidation racking you far more mortifying as your subtle shivers brushed along her blade’s sharp edge ever so slowly, along a sudden push of pain teasing your throat. You swallowed back the burning sensation of electric volts gliding along your exposed throat while her blade traced along your accommodative skin, dangerously lining the sharp edge to a point in which blood would be drawn.

“Speak, human.” She snapped, eyes fixated on your every move as she maintained her position above you, blade pointed directly at you to monitor your actions. Slowly, your chin carefully tilted upward to lock eyes with the goddess currently on the verge of slashing you open, deep purple gaze boring into yours as your thighs pressed inward to maintain your balance before the shogun. Yet, you were quickly spun out of your trance as Ei pushed the blade rougher against the prominent nerves of your throat, her patience wearing thin as your breath caught in your throat, an involuntary gasp barely escaping your lips.

The gentle trickle of blood seeping down the crimson wound oddly soothed you in this moment, even in witness of the goddess’s fury burned your devotion to her further, stomach churning with satisfaction—perhaps something more as you had the privilege of even standing before Ei herself. The minuscule slash engraved onto your throat like a tattoo was something you would proudly wear after you departed from the divine being, planning to always expose your throat whenever you went out, modifying clothing that covered your neck as a symbol of your fateful encounter with her.

Day and night. Day and night you would pray to her before the carved stone statue situated in your home dedicated to Ei. Eyes closed and hands clasped together, you would kneel down before her stone form, presenting her with her wings outstretched from her back and hands extended in a cusp as she carried whatever offerings you had placed into the statue. Burning smells of incense circled the room intensely, stinging your nostrils as well as the molten end of the sticks neatly poked out of a small bowl rested by the table at the edge of the statue. “I pray that I can give you my all, Lady Ei. If I ever stumble upon you, I don’t want you to show me mercy. If you do, I will be forever in your debt.”

Clearly, summoning deities had merely been an ongoing rumor, perhaps even a silly tale meant to frighten others around you. There was no way you had throught such a prayer could descend a celestial being from the heavens, right?

The cool winds had fluttered along your cheek upon trudging through the trudging hill grounded before you, hands occasionally dragging along the road for support. Flaps of paper resounded in your ears as the howling wind whistled across the clearing, a large wooden pole with a tattered paper plastered onto it coming into view. Squinting your eyes, you shifted closer, catching sight of the paper stuck to the post. A single red character was embedded onto it, likely written in dried blood. You exhaled deeply, recognizing the symbol to pertain to Ei herself, and that the shrine you sought should be up ahead.

As you quietly made your way forward, a small yet intricate wooden gate structure greeted you. The shrines and temples constructed before you clearly displayed signs of decay and buildup, thickets of moss bundling up along every crevice of the stone and wood erected buildings. Upon venturing into the worn down and chipped area, you couldn’t help but sense the ominous atmosphere emitting from your surroundings closing in around you, heart beating in your chest as caution began to scream at you internally. Rationally, your self within you urged you to go back. It was obvious that this abandoned temple wasn’t set to be a lively and peaceful—yet that strong urge of pure devotion to atleast try, to atleast prove your worth to the almighty goddess has sharpened further than your rational self, urging you to push forward.

A bitter stench plagued your nostrils as you ventured further into the ruins of the shrine, likely from the accumulation of grime over the years it was left to rot. The winds now blew tenfold in swift gusts, nearly knocking the air out of your own lungs as it slammed against your chest like a hurricane rather than a simple strong wind; as if a warning sign had manifested before you, pleading for you to turn back. Carefully stepping before the small, well crafted shrine primarily containing stone and wood along with various offerings and a portrait of Ei herself, you knelt down before the oddly clean structure. While everything had been shrouded in moss over the past few centuries—even millennia or so, the shrine remained well painted and clean, even the area around it seemingly glowing in contrast to the gloomy greatness of the surrounding structures.

Now looking back, you truly wished that you had heeded the warnings. However, you don’t regret it one bit. Not when the very woman you had yearned to preside before had you knelt before her, divine sword dangerously positioned below your chin as her piercing gaze shot through to the bone.

You briefly paused, choking on your breath once more as the tip of her blade grazed the already open wound along your neck. “I said, state your purpose for summoning me, (Name).”

It was quite difficult to even utter a word in her presence. Her enchanting figure absolutely hypnotizing as she was looking down at you, polished black armor with her wings unsheathed, and a cracked halo crowning the top of her head as it hovered over her. Clearing your throat, you eagerly tilted your head up at her, joy boiling up within you as she had addressed you by your name. Most of the time, you had overheard ancient stories transmitted from older time periods, where this goddess wouldn’t even acknowledge, much less care about the identities of her followers even.

“Ah..Lady Ei. Am I so important you must use my name?” You breathed out, cocking your head as you were still on your hands and knees before her. She merely scoffed, a light chuckle finding its way from her throat.

“For once. I’ve never once encountered a mortal so willing to put their all into me.”

“Would you despise me if I said that I only summoned you to come face to face with my goddess?”

“Not at all.”

Withdrawing her sword from your neck, Ei beckoned you to stand up, which you did so albeit a bit weakly due to the wound you had nearly forgotten about. The moon centered between the two of you like a medium of division, pale rays outlining each of your figures in the shadows of the dark crowding the two of you as your sillouhettes burned into the the night sky. Ei hummed in satisfaction upon seeing the pure devotion fired up within you, knowing that you would serve her as anything she wanted. Any cruel punishment, any position as her right hand or so, any battle, absolutely anything.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, presiding like a huge stone weighing down your belly before speaking up. A neat maniac smile stretched your lips as you brought your palm flush against the nerves of your neck, expression crazed you proudly showed off the engraved cut along your throat despite the blood smearing across your palm.

“Lady Ei, I should be greatful that you had even laid your blade or gaze upon me! I shall forever be in your debt. Show me no mercy as I am nothing in your presence”

Any sane person would say you were insane.

Yet, you didn’t care. You didn’t care when you were face to face with the goddess you had devoted everything for you. You were absolutely wiling to fall under her lack of mercy.

Her palm suddenly glided along your cheek, cupping the side of your face tenderly. Your body froze up at the closeness of the gesture, eyes widening in utter confusion as Ei began to caress your face as a lover would, not a superior to her subordinate.

“Lady Ei what-?“

—

…

Your words were abruptly cut off as a searing pain shot through your body, abdomen tightening as you gasped for air. Her blade had speared through your torso, deeply lodged into your body as her hand remained unmoving on your face, deep purple eyes locked onto yours.

“Humans are quite foolish. They say everything they will do, and promise it. Swear it on their life even. Yet plead and beg when it truly occurs, never following through with their promise.”

She paused, twisting the blade like a crank deeper into your stomach as the crimson liquid pooled out along your skin, staining your clothing and decorating her hand grasping the hilt as it formed a small puddle onto the ground. She smiled as she observed your features, clearly in pain yet still keeping your eyes locked onto her.

“So how come you’re different? You’re so devoted you don’t beg or cry when I go through with refraining from bestowing mercy upon you, (Name).”

The sweet smile on your face was one that would remain with her for eternity as your knees buckled inward, balance near impossible to remain as you grew more and more lightheaded. Chest heaving as blood was beautifully patterned along your body like a piece of abstract art hung in a museum, eyes lowering as you collapsed over into Ei’s arms. She kept the sword buried into your chest, as if you were the stone to Excalibur.

As your eyes slowly lowered themselves feeling your end closely trailing up to you, you squeezed them shut in bliss as her lips gently pecked your bloodied temple, heaving chest slowly calming down as you grew limp into her arms. Reaching up one last time, hand brushing along your throat…

No pulse.

She heaved a sigh, carefully setting you down in the blood steeled grass as she kept the sword embedded in your chest. Looming over your corpse, Ei gently whispered out, the first time her voice had grown soft when speaking of someone below her.

“A shame I had doubted you, (Name). I promise your afterlife will be with me as you will gain all you desire. Either that, or I shall bless you in your next life for as long as you live. I swear it.”

Drops of scarlet blood ran down her fingertips situated at her sides, her eyes fixated on your exposed throat coldly. She wasn’t saddened by your death. However, she was more..empty knowing she hadn’t gotten to speak with you any longer. It was all fine.

The mark she had slashed onto your neck which she would brighten in the near future.

The engraving of your devotion.

A/N: GUYS I AM WAY TOO SLEEPY TO ADD A/N’S TO THESE PLS BEAR WITH ME

[anki-of-beleriand]

Bad Liar ch. 12

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers

Warnings: Slow burn - slightly Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - idiots in love - homophobia - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: Something magical happens, but not all fairytales have a smooth path to happiness.

This chapter is dedicate to the dear Anon that wrote to me recently, hope you and all you guys have amazing and safe Holidays!

As always, English is no my mother tongue, so please forgive the grammar, spelling and funny mistakes!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 12

The silver in the stars

Friday arrived with the winds of change.

The clouds had glided away from the time being, the lower temperatures continue and the school itself was a busy hive with everyone running left and right to finish the pending’s before the Winter break.

That very morning Wanda knew she wouldn’t be able to make it back to school. Billy’s health had not improved at all, if anything the boy was drossy with light fever accompanied by a sore throat, headache, chills and dry cough. In a word, he got the flu and Wanda could not leave him behind even though that night she was hopping to spend it with you.

“That’s okay, Wands.” You smiled to her that very morning, Tommy grabbing your hand while watching the interaction with curious eyes, “Billy’s health is our priority, I’ll take care of this big guy and the party, everything is going to be fine.”

Wanda could see the disappointment in your stare, but you hid it well behind the reassuring gestures and the warmth words. She had hoped for the date that day, to perhaps finally get into the conversation the both of you owed one another and finally left out in the open the half confession neither of you had been able to settle up.

“There will be more chances, Wands, you’re not getting out of that conversation.”

With those parting words, you left Wanda to take care of Billy while taking Tommy and America back to the school almost missing the black car that was driving around the corner of your street.

“There will be more chances,” America giggled when you rolled your eyes hiding way your smile, Tommy giggled too glancing at you lightly.

“Y/N why didn’t you kiss mommy good-bye?” Tommy asked innocently, America laughed when you just blushed profusely sputtering around an answer that made the other boy crunched up his nose.

“Well, Tommy, because Y/N is a dummy and needs a push…” America teased ignoring your mocking glare.

“Mommy likes kisses.” Tommy said shrugging. “And mommy likes Y/N, just like Kate and America.”

Now it was your turn to laugh, and for America to sputter the car drive to the school filled with conversations about the oncoming party and coming holidays. The topic about you and Wanda or Kate and America forgotten for the time being.

*****

It had been a busy day.

You didn’t even have the time to look at your phone, the last arrangements were being done to the auditorium while you managed the rest of the events of the last day of the festival. As always, America and her friends were a great help for you, they were running around with any request you might have, while also getting their gowns and clothes ready for the evening.

Everything was running perfectly, America and Kate had spent most of the day together talking and laughing, for anyone it looked as just two best friends bantering the way they had done so all their lives, however you could see there was something different in the interaction. You could see your sister trying to get Kate’s attention while Kate’s protective nature came naturally when around America. You noticed the glances, the smiles, the casual brushes of skin. It was as if America had stopped running away from her emotions, and Kate had finally confronted hers.

And, everything would have been just fine if, by the end of the day Kaye announced she would drive with Riri to the Yule Ball, so she wouldn’t be joining the rest of the group in the limo they had rented. It was then America remembered the deal with Riri was still on, and that night she wouldn’t be Kate’s date and that night she would need to suffer while seeing Kate and Riri joining them in the Ball.

“You should stop making face, it looks as if you want to fart or something.” You chuckled when America punched you on the arm. You nodded towards Kate who was talking with Riri, the brunette laughed with her hand falling on Riri’s forearm.

“So, Kate and Riri Williams…”

“It’s nothing.” America grumbled busying herself with the tags with the names of the seniors and junior, and sophomore students that would attend the dance.

“You know? I always thought she was good for you.” You cocked your head gauging America’s reaction, the other woman tensed but said nothing. “You and she have always had this chemistry that’s so hard to come by with.”

“Like you and Wanda?” America asked shooting a daring glance your way.

“Like me and Wanda.” You admitted sitting down, your eyes dropped for a moment before returning your attention to America. “We almost kiss on Wednesday.”

“What? How? Why?” America sat on the other chair frowning deeply shaking her head. “Wait a moment, I thought you were helping her with Billy yesterday!”

“I was helping her, I just wanted her to relax…”

“And you thought, what the hell? Let’s kiss her?” America retorted in a high pitch tone, you rolled your eyes shaking your head.

“No, doofus! Let me finish!” America lifted her hands waiting for you to continue.

“We started watching Friends and then start discussing about the episode, and I just… I don’t know, we were so close we almost…” You sighed making a face while finishing the last group of tags. “I received a call from Hope, and then the moment was broken and today we were supposed to…talk.”

America shifted on her chair, she could see the almost kiss was affecting you and your mind must be on that particular moment since it happened. The young woman perked up hearing you about the conversation, she wondered if perhaps Wanda was ready to tell you everything and if you actually were ready to tell Wanda everything.

“Well, Billy really is not looking well, you know?” America offered a tentative smile. “Christine told us it would be better for him to stay at home, but perhaps I can help.”

You frowned tilting your head, “how can you help?”

America turned to the auditorium and then back at you, she knew that night you and Wanda were supposed to be chaperones, but she could also see you hadn’t been the same since you found out Wanda could not come. You could see her thinking really hard on a solution, you chuckled shrugging.

“Don’t worry, kiddo, I’m sure we can think of something but for now, today is your day, so I hope you at least grow some balls and kiss Kate Bishop or else…”

You laughed enjoying the blush growing in America’s face, you softened slightly watching just how much she had grown in the last year. America started babbling away about her friendship with Kate, and how Kate had every right to date whoever she wanted. She was in the middle of her rant when she trailed off opening her eyes really big, her lips curling into a huge grin.

“America?” You were not overly found of that expression on her, your sister stood up waving her hands before turning around running towards the main building.

“I have an idea! I’ll be right back!!”

You blinked couple of times, your nose crunched up at your sister’s sudden outburst. Yelena came closer to you, she was also confused by this sudden reaction shaking her head.

“What has gotten into her?”

“I’m not really sure, Yelena.” You turned to the younger woman smiling lightly. “What is it?”

“I finished the last envelops, and Loki and Peter are doing the same inside the auditorium.”

“Good then, let’s put this inside and then you guys can go.”

You turned to the place where your sister had run to, before grabbing the tags and making your way back to the auditorium. It didn’t take you too long to finish everything up, you sent America’s friends back to their homes while your eyes drifted to your watch. Before you could grab your phone to call America you saw her coming over, a huge smile on her face.

“Where were you?” You tuned suspicious glances at your sister, the young woman was still wearing a proud smile putting her phone out.

“I was speaking with Casie, you know? We were talking and well Scott and Hope have been dying to have a night out to dance and everything but it hasn’t been possible so… I got you your night out today!” America was really proud with herself with the plan she had come up with in a matter of seconds.

You frowned shaking your head lightly, “what do you mean?”

“Hope and Scott will cover for you and Wanda, and you can go to her.” America then wiggled her eyebrows. “What’s more, you will be able to attend the Yule ball with her.”

“Now you did lose me, what did you do?” By then, you were trying to hold back your smile but your heart fluttered happily while America merely smiled at you.

“I got you your dance.” America grinned walking backwards. “Come! We need to do this fast!”

“America, wait…” You grabbed her forearm, the frown still in place. “What did you do?”

The young woman sighed facing you, she dropped her smile her eyes gleaming with a spark of seriousness you were familiar with.

“I just think you deserve to be happy, and sometimes you are so deep into your work and being there for me that you forget about yourself.” America shrugged lifting her hand to scratch the back of her head. “This last year you have been running around trying to hold onto your life while managing the business and me. And then, this woman comes in and she gets what Carol fought hard to have.”

You winced, guiltiness showing up in your eyes.

“I know you like Wanda, Y/N.” America stepped closer giving you a long hug. “Let me help you out just this one time, Y/N, I promise you it will be good, and you better kiss the hell out of Professor Maximoff or I’m going to pinch you until your bruise.”

You snorted tightening your hold on America, “you’re crazy, kid. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, today the sisters Y/L/N will get the girl!”

You laughed pushing her playfully, America hooked her arm to yours and started explaining her plan to you, by the time you reached the car you knew it was a perfect, solid plan and you would certainly get the girl.

_____________________

“You look beautiful.” You stated watching your sister wearing a white gown, made of waves and cuts that fit her body and skin. Her hair falling to the side in light brown waves, with a light make up and sandals that made her look mature, yet innocent and young.

Your parents would be so proud of her.

“You think so? I feel foolish.” America made a face, you snorted stepping forward.

“You look beautiful, and what you did for me, Kid, I won’t forget it.”

America grinned widely, she threw her arms around you softening her features while relaxing into your embrace.

“I love you.” You smiled hugging her tightly.

“I love you to, Kid. Now go and claim your girl.” You winked turning around to grab a squared box. “This was something your mother wore on her wedding with dad, I thought you should have it.”

America paled lightly, her hand trembled hovering above the box she glanced at you while you open the lid. Inside was a single collar, made of white gold and a single pendant in the form of a star. America felt her eyes filled with tears, it was the first thing she got directly from her mother, you put the collar out putting the box aside and moving to stand behind your sister.

“You are an amazing woman, America, in just over a year you will need to make serious decisions about your life but for now, enjoy.” You put the collar on circling your sister tilting your head to looked at her. “Now, the look is complete.”

“Thank you.” America put a hand on her collar smiling at you. “Now, you will have most of the night, if she is what you really want…”

“I’ll do it.” You cocked your head pointing to the door. “Now, go they are waiting for you.”

America gave you one last hug before leaving you alone. You stood there for a moment, your body tingling with anticipation, your own gown waiting for you to get change and go to Wanda’s place.

________________________

It was a cloudless night. 

The low temperature and the strong winds were a reminder of the winter season. The party back at school had started almost an hour ago, with Hope and Scott attending the event on your behalf. You smiled at the pictures Hope had taken, at the smile on your sister's face and the amazed glint in everyone's eyes when they realised the auditorium had been decorated as a winter palace with an ice-skating rink for everyone to enjoy. 

A pang of guiltiness settled in your heart, your sister was growing right in front of you becoming an amazing woman with a gentle heart and a great mind. You glanced at your reflection, the backyard had been decorated by America and Scott while Hope made sure you got the right clothing for an evening with the woman next door. 

You weren't even sure this should be happening, or that Wanda would want it to happen. Yet here you were, at home watching your sister's dance happening through videos and pictures Hope kept sending your way. 

Are you still at home? 

You could almost hear the reproach in that text, rolling your eyes as you answered, watching as Hope readied her own response to your text. 

Stop being an idiot and go over there, whatever happens tonight, Y/N, you both deserve to be happy. 

You smiled, shaking your head while putting the phone away. Everyone had been telling you the same, putting Hope into what you felt and what, apparently, Wanda had been experiencing with you. For you. 

On the coffee table you spotted the seven blue irises you had bought for that day. Your lower abdomen filled with tingles, as if butterflies were fluttering about while sending electric waves through your body. You lifted your face finding your eyes in the mirror, then wearing a half smile you grabbed the flowers and left your home. 

______________

Wanda let herself fall on her bed, a tired sigh leaving her lips while her eyes fluttered close. She smiled at the soft sensation of her mattress under her back, the lack of sound around her was soothing for her mind. All thoughts and worries dissipated in that brief moment of peacefulness she enjoyed after putting the twins to bed. 

Her eyes fluttered open, observing the white ceiling above her head, she pursed her lips watching the shadows from the streetlamps dancing in her room. At that moment, you were probably overseeing the event with the rest of the school and enjoying the music, the food and the drinks that you two had prepared for the students.

Regret took the form of a shrinking heart, Wanda turned to her side looking for her phone wanting to know how you were doing and if, perhaps by any chance, you were missing her in the dance. The phone had been forgotten on the bedside table, she dropped her head on the mattress and was tempted to just forget about it until the screen turn on with the announcement of a new message.

I need you to do me a favour, I think something was dropped on your threshold and I just need to make sure is there, can you help me out?

Wanda made a face, with her heart dropping in disappointment. She wrote back to you, frowning at how foolish she had been into thinking perhaps you were missing her as much as apparently she was missing you. You were probably having a good time, and perhaps even Carol had decided to join you in this dance.

“I’m an idiot.” Wanda huffed grabbing her phone tightly and pressing her lips together with a single frown adorning her features.

She was just thinking about reading a book in bed or something when she came face to face with you standing on her threshold. Wanda couldn’t help the look of uttered surprise on her face, her hand almost let go of her phone but she tightened her hold on it shaking her head to try and stop her wandering eyes for looking further into your outfit.

It was nothing too fancy, but you had chosen a dress that was according to the theme you two had elected for the dance. You were wearing a navy blue gown, with a pleated v-neckline that led to a softly gathered faux-wrap skirt on a sleeveless satin gown. You didn’t know how to walk with high heels, so you had chosen a pair of strappy dress sandals that didn’t quite fit but were enough to allow you movement.

“I hope I’m not overly dress for our night out.” You cocked your head, showing off a dopey smile.

Wanda blushed deeply glancing at herself, she winced at her sweet pants, and the hoodie she had worn all day. She opened and closed her mouth, but you just chuckled shaking your head, the playful tone in which you spoke sent shivers down Wanda’s back.

“Don’t tell you forgot tonight was going to be our night, Wands.”

“I…No! No but Billy…” Wanda was trying to collect her thoughts, and she certainly was trying really hard to get words out of her mouth but she found it quite difficult to do so at the moment.

In all her wildest dreams she never imagined she would feel attracted to someone like you, not only because you were a woman which was a huge factor in her list of what the hell; but also because you were so different to Vision. You were kind, spontaneous, smart and so infuriating, Wanda found herself craving your company, craving your smile and as of late craving your touch.

Now you were standing right there, wearing a beautiful dress that complement your body and your skin and all that you were and Wanda found herself inadequate.

“Y/N you know Billy is not feeling well, and they are…” Wanda started but her words tangled in her lips when you put a hand from your back, in there she saw seven blue irises flowers neatly tight with a white bow.

“I know he is still sick, Wands.” You then put your other hand from behind and there was a small bag.

“Then, I mean you look and I just…” Wanda blushed again rolling her eyes at her inability to form proper thought and to actually voiced her worries.

You smirked to the woman, your eyes twinkling mischievously as you stepped closer to her.

“I won’t let you miss tonight, Wands. So the flowers are for you, they are blue irises and they…well, they made me think of you.” You shrugged lowering your gaze for a moment, then looking back at Wanda you presented her with the next gift. “And these are baby monitors that may tell us if the twins wake up.”

Wanda grabbed the flowers in her hand, she shivered when your fingers brushed lightly against hers and the sweet aroma of the flowers hit her nose. Then she scrunched up her nose, curiosity gleaming in her green eyes just as she opened the bag to see the baby monitor.

“But, why? I mean…” Wanda was left speechless once more, you lifted a hand to put a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“I didn’t want to miss the chance to dance with you tonight.” You stated trying to hold Wanda’s stare in yours. “America helped me prepared something for you, for us, if you want to.”

Wanda stiffened when you mentioned your sister, but you were quite distracted with the woman in front of you to notice it completely. You waited patiently, Wanda chewed on her lower lip with her heart tugging painfully in her chest.

“I don’t know what to say.” She finally whispered, tears forming at the corner of her eyes. You leaned forward, two fingers under her chin lifting her face tenderly.

“Say yes and let me show you.” You whispered back, Wanda parted her lips, her eyes going from your eyes to your lips then back again.

“Yes.”

Your ginned lit up your whole face, “good then let me put this on Billy and Tommy’s room and we will be out.”

“Out where?” Wanda finally asked following you to the second floor.

“To my backyard, of course.” You replied as if it was the most logical answer.

The moment Wanda stepped into your backyard she let out a shaky gasp.

The night was cold but cloudless, the wind messed around with her hair and the sky above your heads was ignited by a blue moon and a couple of silvery dots twinkling down to the earth. Wanda glanced around the place where a couple of lamps had been positioned in six different poles, a single yard table with chairs were positioned on the left side facing Wanda’s home. The young woman couldn’t believe the detail in the decorations, it was not overly fancy but enough for a simple dinner and some music while the warmers right behind the chairs made the little spot the perfect place to watch the sky and get warm.

You stepped forward, your strides firm and determined until you found the speaker resting on top of the BBQ, you turned it on and soon the music coming from your Spotify playlist filled the backyard with sweet melodies of jazz.

You turned around and Wanda was standing right behind you.

She was looking out of place, with her hands hidden inside the pockets of her hoodie, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears and her lips pressed together you could tell there was something bothering her. You stepped closer but soon stop when the woman took a step back.

“Wanda?” You asked tentatively, Wanda closed her eyes and the tears rolled down her cheeks slowly.

“Why?” She finally asked, her voice trembling and her breathing increasing.

When you two looked at one another, you could see the conflicted thoughts dancing inside her mind. Why were you doing all of this? Why go all the way with such things? Why bring a baby monitor so you could hear Billy and Tommy if they woke up? Why did you stay behind?

Why?

You hesitated for a moment, lowering your gaze thinking about the answer to such a simple question. Then, you just snorted, your lips curling into a happy smile.

“Because you are worthy, Wanda.” You let out a sigh lifting your face to the sky. “I’ve been so lost in the last couple of months, I have been feeling my emptiness with relationships and situations that had contributed to my confusion more than anything.”

Wanda knew the feeling, and she wondered briefly if perhaps the blond woman you had been dating had been part of the process and if perhaps what you were showing Wanda was still part of you getting out of your confusion. As if reading her thoughts, you pointed a finger at her.

“Carol didn’t deserve the way I treated her, that’s why I ended things up with her.” You took a step closer to Wanda, your shoulders dropping when the woman stood still. “And then I met you. I thought I was beyond any relationship, or actually beyond any emotions that weren’t focused on my sister, my friends, and the business. Meeting you, Wanda, has taught me that we are not the rulers of our own destiny.”

“I’m not sure…” Wanda grumbled shaking her head before letting go of her hands, she tried to put her hair behind her ears but soon was stopped by your hands holding hers. She lifted her face, finding herself unable to look away from you.

“I have never been in this position before, Y/N.” Wanda finally revealed, she swallowed down her doubts with her heart beating fast inside her chest. “I’m not sure what I am supposed to do or feel and…I’m scared.”

You smiled softly, squeezing her hands tenderly while leaning closer.

“Then, we will go step by step, if you want to.”

Wanda broke into a nervous smile; she knew her cheeks were burning and her heart was beating so fast she was afraid it would leave her chest at any moment. You waited, the music filling the air, and then Wanda leaned in brushing her lips against yours.

Her eyes fluttered close, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.

It was a tentative brushing of skin, Wanda was trembling under your touch her hands positioning themselves on your arms and shoulders while yours wrapped around her waist. She exhaled melting into your touch, your lips moulding around hers not demanding but eager to learn from her, to follow her lead. Your lower abdomen exploded into a myriad of tingles that went around your body making your heart trembled in affection.

At some point, the both of you started swinging with the music.

With your eyes still closed, your forehead against hers your feet directed a simple dance that kept the both of you together. Your hand sneaked under the hoodie, letting out a breathy exhale when your hand touched the warmth skin of Wanda.

“You are freezing.” She mumbled against your lips, frowning with her eyes opening slowly to find herself looking into your eyes.

“It is okay, I like the cold.” You replied tilting your head to contemplate the woman in your arms. “You are trembling.”

Wanda nodded, she opened her mouth then close it again.

“I’m not sure…I have never kissed another woman before.” She revealed, you smiled at her nodding.

“I know.”

Wanda turned her head to the side never once trying to get away from your embrace, you softened your hold on her before asking.

“Does it bother you?”

“No, not really, I’ve been…I’ve been thinking about this for so long.” Wanda finally confessed, the tension around the both of you only growing into the conversation you had been holding onto since the prior weekend. 

“Really? Have you thought about kissing many women before?” Your tone tried to be teasing, but Wanda could notice the hint of uncertainty in your voice.

She realized that you were just as nervous as she was, that perhaps you knowing full well about your sexuality didn’t mean you didn’t experiment the same doubts, or the same fear as the others. Much like Wanda, you were betting for your heart and hers to share the same emotion for one another.

“Only You.” Wanda whispered. “You have me confused ever since that first day we met, you know? And as time passes, as I get to know you and get closer to you I have found myself drawn to your smile, to your words, to your kindness, and I found myself feeling something I have never felt before and I just…”

“I’m afraid.” You finished when Wanda just trailed off, the young woman nodded leaning in to put her face on the crook of your neck. “I’m afraid this would end up in a heartbreak.”

“Yes.” Wanda took a deep breath, and with more courage that she actually felt she broke the dance and step back from you.

“I am afraid of not being what you want, of hurting you and hurting myself in the process.” Wanda tried to smile but it came out as a grimace and all the emotions inside her threatened to break like a dam and overwhelmed her to the point she would not be able to stop it.

“Hey, Wands, you are more than enough, you and Billy, and Tommy and…” You snorted scratching the back of your neck. “I know what you mean, and I’m afraid for the exact same things. I…I just don’t want to let this opportunity go…I don’t want to miss this chance. And, if you let me, we can try.”

It was more than what she expected from you.

Wanda nodded unable to talk, unable to say something else for fear of just messing it up. You stepped closer, your hand cupping her cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, Wanda let out a breathy laughter before nodding.

“Yes, you can.”

“Good.” And then, you leaned in and you were kissing her again.

This time around, though, when you two kissed you were sure to pour all of your emotions in that single kiss. Your hands bringing over safety, while you let your tongue to tentatively teased the other woman until her surprised moan reached your ears.

“So, was it better than the first one?” You wiggled your eyebrows only to get a playful slap on your arm.

Wanda was breathing hard, her cheeks completely red while she tried to recover from the passion-filled kiss you just gave her. You chuckled leading her to the closest chair, bowing to her you placed a single kiss on her forehead before stepping back.

“Now, my dear lady, let me bring you the food and the drinks and we can enjoy our evening.”

Wanda smiled, and you were pretty sure you had never seen something so beautiful as the woman standing right in front of you at the moment.

___________________

“Your sister really outdid herself with this.” Riri Williams stepped into the auditorium glancing around the place that had been changed completely into an ice palace.

The music was resounding through the room, the beat setting up the rhythm everyone was trying to follow on the dance floor. As soon as they set foot inside the place, they were given a tag with their names and directions for their table, America couldn’t help but glance at the icy statues around the place or the ice-skating rink to the far corner of the building.

America could see you and Wanda had really taken the time to fix everything, and America just hoped that you were also enjoying your time back home. The group was speaking animatedly amongst, them, America walking right behind them with her eyes never leaving the form of Kate who was walking side by side with Riri while wearing the most beautiful dress America had seen so far.

“America!” The young woman turned to see Hope strolling towards her with Scott following close behind.

“Hope!” The both of them hugged tightly, the older woman glancing around the room with a hint of pride in her eyes.

“Y/N really outdid herself with this celebration, didn’t she?”

“Well she and Professor Maximoff.” America stated, Hope clicked her tongue never losing her smile.

“Right, I forgot about that.” America narrowed her eyes at her sister’s oldest friend but decided to not say anything for the time being. “So, are you enjoying the party? Where is your date?”

America opened her mouth to speak when Loki walked past her, talking loud enough for them to hear.

“Dancing with somebody else!”

Scott frowned returning his attention to the dance floor, America winced rolling her eyes thought for Hope it was quite evident the comment made by Loki was not too far of the mark. The woman gave a sympathetic smile standing beside America so her line of vision was on the dancefloor.

“Bishop?” Hope whispered, America winced nodding. “She looks beautiful in that purple dress.”

“She does.” America grumbled glancing down at herself then setting her eyes on Riri. “And her date looks amazing as well.”

“They are dating because of the favour we asked Riri, Chavez, stop mopping around.” This time around it was Yelena the one to interrupt the private conversation.

Hope chuckled placing a hand on America’s forearm noticing the similarities between America and Y/N. Both of them were equally stubborn when their heart was involved.

“So, what is it going to be?” Hope finally asked nodding towards the dance floor, “are you going to do something, or are you going to mop?”

“If I may,” Scott offered a tentative smile pointing with his thumb to the pairing that was laughing and dancing, “I will try my luck on the ice-skating rink as soon as the dancing is over, you will find that place has a magic aura on its own that works wonders.”

Hope rolled her eyes, though her cheeks took upon an interesting pinkish colour. America giggled hooking her arm to Hope’s one.

“That’s were Scott propose, isn’t it? Gosh, I can’t hear enough of that story from Y/N, it was the same day all of you got wasted and ended up at the other part of the country.”

Hope and Scott laughed at the memory, Scott lifted his hands waving them away before trying to explain the situation.

“If I may, that was all because Sue and Reed decided to make an experiment by mixing up the alcohol, and…”

“And we didn’t have self-control.” Hope finished trying to salvage the conversation, she then poked America on her side pointing with her eyes to Kate and Riri that were about to make their way back to the table.

“Now, young lady, your sister asked me to make sure you did something foolish and have a good time.”

“Okay, lads, how about a picture and then some snow and skating?” Scott screamed out to the table, everyone cheered and soon America was pushed around until she ended up right beside Kate.

Kate offered a sweet smile that America returned passing her arms around her and posing for the pictures. Loki and Yelena smirked at one another, while Kamala was torn between being helpful and fearful for her friends. Hope took several pictures, before stepping back and pointing to the auditorium.

“Now, guys, go have fun if anything happens let us know.”

Hope and Scott started making the first rounds around the place, America was left alone for a moment before she tried to go back to the part. At first it wasn’t that difficult, there was good music, good drinks, food and nice conversations going on around the table and the dance floor. Merica had gotten the chance to dance with Loki and Peter, and then she gave it a chance to Casey and Kamala, but in all that time Kate was being escorted by Riri at all times, only stopping by to cheer before disappearing on the dance floor.

It had been bad enough with the heavy tones, and electronic mixes but then someone decided it was time for the romance to start. America couldn’t take it when Riri leaned in and Kate wrapped her arms around her, she stood up and walked away before anyone could stop her.

The music had not changed that much, America was glaring the at ice-rink with her chin resting on the palm of her hand. She was so seep into her own thoughts she missed the shadow approaching her spot.

“You look nice.” Kate came from behind holding a pair if ice skates, the young woman had worn her hair down, and the smile she offer America lit up her whole face. She was flustered, the traces of her recent dances with Riri and the effort of having a good conversation with the other woman.

“Thanks, you look beautiful.” America replied with a hint of a smile, she patted the spot beside her shrugging tentatively. “Wanna sit?” 

Kate took her offer with a half-smile, her brown eyes twinkling when they found those of America.

“I look beautiful?” She asked teasingly, though pleased with the use of words from America. “This is the first time I heard you say that.”

“Well, you really do look beautiful.” America sighed turning around to see the others still dancing and sharing drinks. 

“Why are you not with them? Your date must be waiting for you.” There was a trace of bitterness in her voice, and America hated the vulnerability she was showing at the moment. 

The most important thing right now was for Kate to enjoy herself. America could mop alone and no one had to find out. Kate rested her cheek on her hand, she observed the other students skating on the rink the laughter and the general enjoyment that her peers were experimenting. 

“You were looking alone, so I thought I spend some time with my best friend.” Kate grinned but as soon as she said this she could see the flash of hurt crossing America's face. 

“What is it?” She asked but America merely shrugged pointing to the skates Kate was holding. 

“Never mind, want to join me inside the rink?”

Kate was so tempted to press the matter, but something inside her head told her there were better ways to approach the subject. She stood up stretching her hand to America. 

“Well, of course! That's why I brought the skates for you and me, come I was dying to try this out ever since I saw it.”

America took Kate's hand in hers standing up and following the young girl to the rink.

America never thought that taking on that offer would be such a heavy challenge. Of course, the dress she was wearing didn’t make things easier, and skating around soon became a real trial for her while Kate did it almost as naturally as she did all the sports she love. Kate laughed always getting to America on time before she fell over her face or ass, and while America couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, she was also content to have Kate taking her hand and smiling at her while enjoying herself.

“Humph, oh sorry…” America crashed against Kate who was laughing really hard, America grumbled rolling her eyes while trying to stand up. 

“This is not funny!”

“Yes, it is!” Kate put a hand on America's forearm, her eyes were twinkling merrily and she too was wearing a pink colouring on her cheeks. 

“I almost killed myself and half the people I crashed a moment ago.” America hissed though she too was starting to smile. 

“But, you didn't! So kudos for you.” Kate gave America a quick check up before placing her hands on the girls hips. “You really are bad at this, aren't you?”

“It's the dress.” America grumbled suddenly feeling hot, her breathing increasing just as she realized how close the both of them were. At feeling Kate's hands on her

“America…” Kate started lifting her face so her eyes were on America's ones. “Are you going to do it?”

America blinked tilting her head with a frown, “do what?”

Kate snorted shaking her head while letting go of America, she huffed trying to get away from America but the other girl stopped her, the confusion still evident in her features. 

“Wait, Kate…”

“America, really… I can't keep waiting for you, you know? Next year we will be going to college and I just…”

“Oh.” America opened her eyes wide, her mouth forming a perfect O just as she realized what Kate was asking of her. 

Kate was still babbling about leaving for college, getting their lives together and growing up when America leaned in closing the distance between them and kissing her tentatively. 

Kate melted right away tilting her head to the side, her hands twitching at her side while America held her delicately her lips moulding themselves to the form of her mouth sending a tingling down Kate's back to her chest and lower abdomen. 

“I’ve been dying to do that since fifth grade.” America didn't break the distance the moment she stopped the kiss, she could see those brown eyes of Kate gleaming contentedly while her hand lifted up to brush her hair. 

“Fifth grade?” Kate asked teasingly, America snorted looking away with a grin. 

“Yeah.”

“Me too.” Kate revealed this time around she hugged the other woman. “I've been dying to do that since you gave me your lunch after I fell down with mine. I just never thought…”

“Yeah, me neither.” America lifted her eyes finding her friends standing outside the rink, thumbs up and grinning widely at her. 

Riri stood by their side chuckling while lifting her fist in the air as a sign of victory. America snorted rolling her eyes before stepping back and kissing Kate once more. 

“So, this means we can stop dancing around one another and start dating?”

“My, who said romance was dead?” America rolled her eyes, but couldn't quite wipe the smile on her face. “I think, that yeah… we can start there.”

“Good then, let's join the others and enjoy the dance.” 

Kate grabbed America's hand and dragged her down the rink to the closest exit. America squeezed her hand, her heart soaring with happiness at finally getting the girl in the end. 

______________

You have come to love the sound of Wanda’s laughter. 

Wanda had been so serious when you met her, the few glimpses of a smile had become a treasure you kept in your memory. Then, as you and her started talking and sharing time together her laughter had come as a surprised. It came with a happy melody that was accompanied by her twinkling eyes. It was something you had tried to hear again and again, to see her happy and relaxed the way she was at the moment. 

“I can't believe you guys got lost.” Wanda put a hand on her mouth holding back her giggles. 

“Believe it, it was actually Shuri’s fault.” The memory of your past lover didn't hurt anymore, and her name rolled out of your lips as a memory of a happy past you spent with your friends.

Wanda leaned in, her elbow on the table fluttering her eyes shyly at you. 

“She was supposed to have the map, and we were supposed to follow her.” You snorted rolling your eyes at the memory. “After going back to the same spot for the third time we asked her where we were and her answer was in the middle of the ocean.”

You grinned at Wanda's laugh, the woman shook her head blinking a couple of times. 

“But she was the one guiding all of you.”

“Exactly!” You put a hand on top of Wanda's one, your thumb caressing her skin. “Hope and Sue went to help her but it was Reed, Wade and I the ones that ended up looking for a way out.”

“You guys had a good time, then.” Wanda let her eyes wandered to your joined hands, her heart shrank with emotion at the thought of you being happy at some point with a woman you were supposed to marry. 

Was Wanda really the person for you? She wasn't even sure if she liked women, she only knew she liked you. Only you. As if reading her thoughts, you grabbed your chair, putting it closer to her, without thinking too much, cupped her face and kissed her teasingly on her lips. 

Wanda gave in almost instantly, her body trembled under the tenderness of your lips. She had never been kissed in such a way, so tender and lovingly, as if she was the most precious being in the world. And soon, after enjoying this new emotion she was crying. Her tears rolling down her cheeks, her heart shivering with a deep emotion that almost made her lose her breath. 

“Hey, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Wanda snorted shaking her head while leaning in to wrap your lips with hers kissing you needily whimpering as her hands grabbed your arms trying to move past the discomfort the position both of you were in. You were quite shocked, her kisses became sloppy and desperate, something didn't quite add to what was happening so you tried to stop her to guide her lips against yours until she let out a sob and was crying in your arms. 

“Hey, Wands, it’s okay.” You were confused by this reaction, Wanda held onto you and you put the chair back bringing her closer until she was sitting on your lap. Your arms wrapped protectively around her, and the young woman hid her face from you embarrassed and so weak for what just happened. She didn't dare to look back at you, but you made it impossible for her when you started placing sweet kisses on her face, forehead, seeking out to bring comfort to Wanda. 

It was obvious something had bothered her, but you didn't want to push her unless it was completely necessary. 

“I feel like a fool.” She finally said wiping her tears away, she straightened up gazing at the table while putting a distance with you. 

“Why?”

Wanda let out a humourless laugh leaning back on her chair, she kept looking everywhere but at you. She had the story of her life right at the tip of her tongue, she wanted to tell you how all her life she had been told she was not worthy of time or money, that her only worth was defined by the man that would want to take her as a wife. She had grown so much in the last year, that sometimes she thought it impossible how much she hag changed, how much she had gained. 

She became brave, and so independent and strong, but right now, seeing you there with that frown full of concern and tenderness directed at her, Wanda knew she could not break the moment with her ugly story. Someday, but not that day.

“I stopped believing in this.”

“Romance?” You offered a timid smile, Wanda shook her head placing her hands on the table. 

“Of being treated so kindly, so…lovingly.” Her lips trembled, but this time around she held your stare. “I never thought I deserve it or that I will experience it.”

“Your husband was not good at these gestures, eh?”

Wanda scowled shaking her head, her fist tightening on the table. 

“No, our marriage was… Everything was orchestrated by my dad and his and then it just sort of happen.”

You could see the pain of these thoughts crossing through her eyes, the tension around her lips. You reached out to her, tilting your head with a single smile. 

“Let me show you how a woman like you should be treated.”

You stood up holding her hand, pulling lightly until she was standing up and following you to the middle of the yard. Wanda was still weak, her face wet and her mind filled with thoughts of being inadequate invading her mind. 

You went to your mobile selecting a specific song that soon filled the backyard with the sweetest melodies. You wiggled your eyebrows bowing in front of Wanda while stretching out your hand. 

“May I have this dance?”

Wanda snorted taking your hand in hers, a shiver went down her back when you stepped closer pressing your body to hers. 

“Let's be a little cliché, if only to show you that you deserve all the cheesy and cliché romance someone can offer you.” you hesitated before continuing. “All the things I want to offer you, if you let me.”

Your words sent a shiver down Wanda's back, her heart leaped with anticipation while her lower abdomen filled with tingles that made her leaned into your embrace. The guitars and the piano of the song waved around you soothingly, the voice of the singer leading you through the story of long trip and a found love. Wanda broke into an easy smile, her cheeks tinged red and while she tried to roll her eyes at you at the cheesy moment you could see the glint of hope in her eyes. 

The moon was high above the sky, the wind became colder and soon the twinkling stars were being covered by heavy clouds threatening with snow. Wanda lifted her face to the sky, she closed her eyes for a moment before resting her forehead against yours. 

“Do you think we can do this forever?” She whispered, her warm breath caressing your skin. 

“I think sooner or later Billy, Tommy and America will end up joining us.”

Your replied surprised Wanda who leaned back narrowing her eyes at you. Your face didn't change, your smile never lost its softness when Wanda realized you were really talking seriously. 

“What if I can only dance? What if I can't…” Wanda didn't finish the sentence but the meaning behind her question was not hard to miss. 

“Then, we dance.” 

Wanda snorted leaning in to brush her lips against yours, you stood still letting her lead this time. She was brushing her lips against yours tentatively, almost shyly while her hands explore your arms and your neck. Your heart was almost exploding inside your chest, you swallowed down while holding still wanting nothing more than to close the distance between the both of you. Wanda explored your lips and face, her fingertips tickling your skin while your breath caught on your throat just as she tried to use the tip of her tongue to taste more of you. 

You almost whimpered at the lost, when your eyes open Wanda was shocked to see your reaction and her daring nature. She was about to step back but this time around it was your turned to tease. 

“What if we end up being what we need?” You asked sneaking your arm around her waist, your hand finding its way under the hem of her hoodie directly on the warmth skin of her back. 

Wanda gasped almost buckling her knees with her eyes clenching closed at the feeling of your lips nibbling on her earlobe and the skin on her jaw. 

“What if we can be happy together? A family?” 

You smiled into her skin, her hands gripping you tightly feeling the sweet caress of your lips on the outline of her jaw seeking to make her melt in your arms. Your hand tracing circles on her back, and just when Wanda was about to say something your lips found their destination and you kissed her as if she was the most precious creature in the world. 

She was tender to your touch, sweet and almost innocent under your guidance, Wanda kissed you back tentatively exploring with curiosity and ready to learn what you were teaching her. The music had stopped at some point, your hands were caressing the skin on her back and on her sides just as your lips continued a dance that followed the thumping of your hearts. 

You don't know how long it past, was in an hour? Was it two? A minute? A second? It didn't matter, the only thing that matter to you was the huge grin adorning those tender features of Wanda as you finished the kiss and leaned back to breath. 

“So, I take It I'm a good kisser?” You finally broke the silence, Wanda opened her eyes laughing while letting go of you stepping back to put a decent distance from you. 

“I'm not sure…” She started laughing some more at the indignant huff leaving your lips. 

“You were ready to moan right there and then!”

“You whimper.” Wanda retorted trying to hide her blush, you opened your mouth and then closed it again. 

Did you? 

“Well, I am a good kisser so…” your answer only made Wanda shook her head tilting her head coyly, biting on her lower lip tentatively. 

“You are.” Wanda finally admitted, you winked at her offering your hand to hers. 

“Wanda.” Her name left your lips with a serious tone, Wanda furrowed her brows noticing the seriousness of the conversation. “I know you have never been with a woman, and that whatever happened before was not easy. I'm not pretending to be what you want or need but I don't want to wake up next year wondering what would have happen if I have taken my chances with you.”

Wanda knew what you were trying to say, she couldn't hold your stare glancing around before settling her eyes on you. 

“I don't want to wonder the same, either.” Wanda mumbles shrugging. “I don't know how to be a partner or a girlfriend or whatever I just…I'm just finding myself and I don't want to drag anyone into something that may not be what I want.”

Your face fell with your heart breaking painfully in your chest, Wanda was not even looking at your reaction she was still babbling away and her initial words were dancing inside your head. So, she didn't want to? You felt a tug on your hand, you shook away those thoughts only to see Wanda stepping closer putting her other hand on your cheek. 

“Then I meet you and I… I have never felt something like this, and it scares me so much but I just don't seem to want to let go.” Wanda pursed her lips lowering her gaze. “I just don't know if you can be patient enough until I'm ready to give you everything.”

Her confession was followed by a deep silence, you two were looking everywhere but at each other. Her words finally sink in making you dizzy with anticipation and happiness, this was what you wanted and you could be patient. It wasn't as if you were completely ready to jump in a serious relationship but, as you said to her, you didn't want to let go of the chance you might have with Wanda. 

“I understand if you don't… I mean waiting for someone…” Wanda started feeling awkward and rejected until you laughed, a hurt glint passed her face and you were promptly on her leaving a peck on her lips. 

“I'll wait for you, Wanda. We can wait together, Wands, whatever happens, whatever we need, as long as I don't lose you.” You replied honestly, Wanda nodded wrapping her arms around you. 

The hug was like a promise, and you took it with a willing heart and a smile that you wouldn't be able to wipe off of your face for a couple of days. 

It was almost 11 o’clock.

The music was still playing in the background, but the both of you found comfort in soft dances and easy conversation that was soon dying off as Wanda’s eyes threatened to close up. You chuckled picking everything up to take into your kitchen, the night was turning out to be more chilling, and soon dark clouds were approaching announcing an oncoming storm.

Wanda was following you, her arms wrapped around her with a creased on her forehead. You pecked her nose, Wanda wrapped her arms around you letting out a content sigh when you returned the embrace.

“It’s late.” She mumbled, you nodded putting your phone away.

“It seems they are really having fun, and the dance won’t be over for another two hours or so.” You looked down on her, grabbing her hand while leading her to the backyard and then down the road to the garage and the main entrance.

Your hands intertwined, lazy steps leading you down the road with happiness showing on your features. Wanda squeezed your hand tenderly, walking closer to you until the both of you reached her porch. Wanda’s porch light was the only one on in the whole street, and there was only one black car parked at the other end of the street.

You and her were alone.

You leaned in kissing Wanda slowly, a silent promise of what you had offered that day. Wanda relaxed into the kiss, seeking out with her hands to keep the contact with you.

“Tonight was amazing, Y/N.” She whispered with her lips brushing against yours.

“It was.”

She didn’t let go of you, instead of that she grabbed her hand in yours with her eyes fluttering opened and a request shining in her green eyes.

“I don’t want this night to end.” She confessed.

You nodded, swallowing down while letting out a chuckle.

“I don’t want it to end, either,” you caressed her cheek, your fingertips mapping the outline of her jaw, “today was amazing, Wands, and I can stop thinking of how happy you make me, how happy I want to make you.”

“You already do,” Wanda’s replied came as a surprised, the young woman sighed straightened up and taking a deep breath. “Would you…stay?”

“Sure.”

“No, I mean…” Wanda trailed off and this time around you did look confused. “Can you stay tonight? With me? I mean…to sleep with me.”

You opened your eyes, your hands tightening around Wanda who soon was blushing and stuttering while organizing her thoughts. Then, as if she just realized what he said, Wanda waved her hands resting them on your shoulders then taking them off and almost falling on her ass. You grabbed her before this happened, smiling tentatively at her while the other woman calmed herself before speaking again.

“I really don’t want this night to end, I understand if you don’t want to but I…I want to sleep with you. Only sleep, just…” Wanda huffed lifting her arms and stepping back in frustration.

“You want to cuddle?” You chuckled when Wanda just lifted her left shoulder nodding.

“I don’t think I’m ready for…” She trailed off again hoping she hadn’t messed up big time with her words and uncertainty.

“I know, Wands, frankly I don’t think you and I are ready for that just yet but…cuddles? I can do cuddles.” You looked down at you then back to your house. “I could go for my PJs or…”

“I can lend you some pants and a t-shirt I just…”

Wanda didn’t know why it was so difficult to express what she needed to say. The night had been so magical, it had filled her with hope and happiness, and with love. And while this scared the shit out of her, she didn’t want to let go of the emotion, she was not ready for sex but she didn’t want to stop feeling you beside her. Reassuring her that you and your words for tonight were real.

“Then, lead the way, Wands,” You took the woman in your arms kissing her tentatively, “we will take it at your own pace, okay, so don’t be afraid to tell me these kinds of things.”

“God, you are…” Wand shook her head grabbing you tightly and kissing you again. When the both of you broke the kiss, Wanda was completely flustered resting her forehead against yours. “You are amazing, you know that, right?”

“Of course I do!”

Wanda snorted grabbing your hand in hers and leading you inside her home.

You looked at your reflection, seeing the changes in you had been easier day by day. No longer you looked tired but so ready to live and to hope and to enjoy what the world brought over to your doorstep. Wanda had been one of those people you never expected to find much less to fall in love with, and yet here you were wearing her clothes, in her bathroom ready to share a bed with her.

“You can do this.” You talked to yourself before leaving the bathroom, Wanda had fixed the bed and she was already on her side of the bed chewing nervously on her lower lip.

“God your bed is amazing.” You stretched out turning on your side, Wanda offered a strained smile nodding.

“It is.”

Tension was quite evident, Wanda thought for a moment perhaps she had made a stupid decision when a hand placed itself on hers. She almost jumped out of the bed, wincing when she realized you retreated your hand almost immediately.

“Wanda, if you want I can go and…”

“No! No, please.” Wanda turned to her side so now she was facing you, you furrowed your brows waiting for her to speak.

“I just don’t want to disappoint you, and me not wanting sex but this…” Wanda stopped you before you could answer. “I know that you’re not asking and that you wait I just—I never expect you to be this amazing.”

You were confused by this, but Wanda soon snuggled closer she hesitated before turning around until you were spooning her. She grabbed your arm placing it around her abdomen intertwining her hand with yours.

“Thank you.” She finally relaxed into your arms.

“Anything for you, Wands.” You retorted kissing her head before fluttering your eyes close easing out your breathing until you feel asleep.

_________________________

The night was dark, and after midnight snow had started falling.

The man inside the car was trying pretty hard to control his emotions, his eyes falling constantly to the gun he had resting on the floor of the car.

“I told you, Vision dear, she was a whore.”

Vision clenched his jaw closed, his eyes glaring at the house where his wife had gone in with another woman after kissing like harlots in front of anyone to see. He had spent the last couple of months looking for his wife and kids, and she found her spreading her legs to another woman? She left him for another woman?

“I’m going to kill her.” Vision muttered grabbing the wheel tightly, the woman talking to him laughed.

“My dear Vision, I know you have to, but please be careful and smart. You worked in the same place as that woman, don’t you?”

Vision gritted his teeth remembering the other woman, he glanced at his phone seeing the picture of Agatha Harkness in there. The only woman he could confided in.

“Yes, I work with her.” Vision hesitated before turning on his car and leaving.

When Agatha had told him she found his boys and wife, he almost didn’t believe her. But when she offered proof not only of them but also of Wanda’s infidelity, Vision had made it his task to watch over them to ensure he would recover what was his. “I will get my boys back, destroy that fucking whore of Y/N and then…”

“Then my love, I will help you with Wanda…”

“Good, wait for me, I need to vent up my anger.” Vision spoke into the car speeding up down the streets.

A plan to destroy Wanda and get his kids back already taking form in his mind.

________________________________________________

Next Chapter: Vision has a plan, America and Reader are living the best moment in their lives. Wanda is getting ready for Christmas and give Reader a nice gift, and the twins are enjoying the new family they have.

[maple-the-awesome]

Friend or Foe || Part 2/3

Part 1 || Part 3

Pairings: Time, Wind, Wild x GN Reader

Overview: Link visits an alternate world without its hero and, more importantly, a version of you without your Link. Unfortunately, it seems even the smallest of details can lead to disastrous results. In spirt of Halloween, I've decided to do a little evil prompt because none of the Links have enough emotional damage yet😈

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

Time may not remember everything that has occurred over his many, long adventures, but he does remember the day you met. Only children then, you both made an innocent promise to marry once adults. Now, Time may be a lot of things, but he has always been a man of his word. How could he not be when presented the perfect chance to spend the rest of his life with his childhood crush? You’re the one person he can trust with his every secret - the reward at the end of every troubling journey. He lives to see your joy and dies to see your sorrow, even when it isn't exactly 'your' sorrow...

It's difficult business keeping track of eight young boys and men, especially when they're all cursed with the same adventurous spirits that are easily distracted. Of course they’ve managed to disappear here. He can only blame himself for not having questioned their silence sooner, although he’d be lying to say he doesn’t feel disappointed, notably with the older boys, Twilight and Warrior, who are usually more responsible than to simply wander off without a word of explanation. Alas, even they’re nowhere to be seen, his only hint of other life nearby being a giggle that echoes off the vast number of gigantic trees.

"My, my. One more left I see?" Time leaps back, hand already on his sword when he hears the voice, “Oooh, and look at you! So handsome! So fierce! I’m digging the scar - it makes you look so tough. And those muscles, too! You seem like you would really know how to -”

“- Where are you?!” Time demands, getting his answer promptly when a figure swings down from a branch mere feet away from his face.

“Wow! You’re even hotter up closer!”

Time's eyes widen in surprise due to both their sudden entrance and their physical appearance. This mysterious person has wild hair that sticks out in every direction with their body lacking a healthy weight or color, yet Time immediately ignores all of that in favor of focusing upon the mask they wear - one he knows all too well but wishes he didn’t. He thought, for a second, that he may have recognized their voice, too, yet he’s more certain that he must be mistaken in that regard. No way it could be…

“Hey, you were traveling with those other boys, right? So maybe you’ll be nicer by giving me the answers I want! You see, beautiful stranger, I’m looking for a special friend of mine. We made a promise a while back and I intend to fulfill it if I could just find him first. None of the travelers I’ve found in these woods so far are him, so I was beginning to lose hope until I overheard those friends of yours mention his name, but they -”

Time can’t move, his body overcome with a chilled wave that ends with his feet cemented to the ground. It would be reasonable to say he misheard the first time, and he could keep denying it if he wants now, but that wouldn’t change the fact that he does recognize this person’s voice. How could he not when it’s the same that belongs to his own person angel? It’s a disordered version of yours, however this person isn’t you. This can’t be you because last he checked, you were safe back home where you promised to wait for his next return. How could you suddenly be here in this world, kept under the binding influence of Majora’s Mask?

“- Hey, are you broken?!” This person - who still so eerily sounds like you despite Time’s refusal to admit such a thing - knocks a fist against his forehead, barely flinching when he jerks back with a gasp, “Sooo? You gonna help me or just be difficult like your friends, eh? I don’t have all day, miser!”

Perhaps this ‘you’ is simply a figment of his imagination created by the forest to torment him; that must be the answer. He just has to play the game - no matter how much it messes with his head - to find out what happened to the boys. He’s dealt with enough Skull Kids before, this would be a piece of cake.

“I -...This friend of yours, who is he? Someone you’ve lost in the forest?” Time asks carefully, doing his best not to react too much outwardly, after all he’s seen first hand how Majora’s Mask can affect the mind of its wearer, and this ‘you’ before him has already clearly been put through the wringer.

“If I knew where I had lost him, I would’ve found him!” You snap in irritation.

Time swallows, “...Right, that does make sense, but perhaps if you could tell me his name, I could offer you better help in finding him?”

You seem pleased by this answer, swinging yourself upright on the branch where you become illuminated only by the glowing eyes of your mask, “Link.”

“L…Link?” That cold feeling from before returns, making Time suddenly feel sick to his stomach as the dots finally begin to connect in his head. This is no figment of his imagination - no trick of the light or evil illusion. It really is you…not the same version of you he married, but the other he promised to…

In Wind’s world, you're an adored teacher on Windfall Island. You’re kind, caring, and very knowledgeable about Hyrule's history which came in handy whenever he needed pointers during his early adventures. Yes, you would express concern over a child of his age partaking in such dangerous affairs (you thought it was all a joke when he first told you) and you've let it slip before that you aren't the biggest fan of pirates, although beyond your mother-like worry which you’ve adopted towards all your students (even the unofficial ones like Wind), you’ve ultimately supported him every step of the way. You've always been a huge role model for him, so this shift in personality is more than unexpected...

Wind was excited to show his new friends around what he thought to be his own Hyrule and relieved to discover they weren’t alone on this island they’ve found themselves stuck on after wandering through another portal. A pirate ship anchored on shore - the very ship belonging to Zelda’ crew, as Wind foolishly assured the others despite their caution. Now, thanks to his impatience and eagerness, he sits saddened and embarrassed next to the rest of the heroes as they remain tied to the ship’s mast. 

It’s confusing. The pirates of this ship are the same as Zelda's crew, yet they claimed to not at all recognize the younger pirate regardless of his attempts to jog their memories. Instead, they had rounded him and the rest of the Chain up the second they approached their dock, taking them prisoner where they currently wait for 'the Captain's reaction'. 

The Captain. This made Wind feel relieved again. Zelda. He doesn't know why the other pirates are acting so strangely, but Zelda will be able to clear this whole mess up, in fact here she comes, dressed in her normal pirate attire Wind's accustomed to seeing.

"ZELDA! Goddesses, am I glad to see you! I don't understand what kinda trick the guys are trying to play on me, but this isn’t the time! My friends - they're all heroes of courage like me and we could really use your help to -" The words come so quickly from Wind's mouth that Zelda barely has time to look disgusted. 

"How hard did you exactly hit this guy?" She asks while looking to Nudge then back to Wind with a smirk.

"Wha - I'm serious! This is urgent, Zelda -!"

"- Who?" She places her hands on her hips, generally seemingly confused which makes Wind's blood run cold, but not as much as it does when another voice speaks.

"Oi, what's the ruckus out here, eh!? I thought I told ya' lot to keep it down - Oh. What do we have here, umm?" The doors to the Captain's cabin burst open, out walking a figure dressed head-to-toe in a bright red uniform with a large black, white, and magenta feather sticking out from their hat.

"Captain," Zelda immediately backs off from Wind, "These guys were just caught after trying to rush our ship."

"No, that’s not what we -!"

"- Little thieves. 'thought they could just follow us here and steal our treasure!" The pirates hiss together, although you take more time to look over the boy in front of you along with his companions.

"You all look familiar…" Your statement - as disinterested as it sounds - almost gives Wind hope. Almost, "Lock 'em up in the cellar where I won't have to listen to their annoying bitching. Gonzo, set a course for the Forsaken Fortress. I think Ganondorf would like to meet these boys. Tetra, you stick with me."

"YES, CAPTAIN!" An assortment of shouts follow, both from the pirates who follow your every order loyally and the heroes who express their dismay. Wind, however, can only stare in complete disbelief and betrayal as you look back at him once more, your eyes dark from underneath your hat's shadow which is a sharp contrast to the usual warmth that he knows you for. 

Wild lives with a lot of heavy regrets weighing him down, perhaps the most unspoken being his missed chance at ever telling you his true feelings. You were an ever-so-dear friend to him before the Calamity - someone who never expected the impossible from him and always offered a shoulder to lean on should he need one. He loved you quite a bit; something he remembered almost as soon as he remembered you. He has often visited your grave, replaying past events in his head while suffocating in his own guilt from not having protected you. He has sometimes begged the Goddess to let him see you again, even if just to apologize, but this isn’t what he had in mind - far from it…

Wild’s version of Hyrule is chaotic and messy; a land that thrives off of quiet hope and the shattered remnants of a once mighty kingdom. Zelda has mentioned the theory before: that like Hyrule, Wild needed to become something else - something different and unruly in nature because if you can’t beat it, then join it. 

With that said, he’s accustomed to using a lack of forethought, at least in any way comparable to his past self (which is what he tells himself, anyway). As far as he knows, before the Calamity, he was as straight-laced as they come, always concerning himself with his public image and focused on never letting anyone down. He’s nothing like that now, often running into danger head first with messy hair and a blaze of fire following his trail. You would think after the amount of concussions and scars he’s gained, he would’ve long learned his lesson, but alas, he raced through this dungeon with little worry as he’s done many others because his confidence - or perhaps his dull wit - has once again outweighed any common sense. 

Now this is the price he must pay for his own ignorance: a nightmare reanimated before him as it taunts and tortures his inner conscience…and all he can do is accept this horrid punishment in frozen terror as you stalk across the room towards him.

When he raced ahead of the others and turned the key, he expected to be greeted with the typical dungeon boss - an overgrown bokoblin or fiery wizard. He didn’t expect it to be you, crumbled on the ground with gloom affecting your entire body. He didn’t expect for you to react so harshly to his presence, throwing him across the room with a blast of magic when he tried to reach your side, desperate to know how you’re alive and if you’re okay.

You look as angry as you have every right to be, your face curled into a snarl as you come closer, eyes narrowed in an orange glow and a sword in your hand…yet Wild could do nothing but let his knees buckle from underneath himself and dig his nails into his scalp as he asks himself over and over again how this is possible. How are you here? How are you alive? How were you affected and how does he fix you? …He can’t, though. He let you down then and has no idea how to save you now despite having been granted the gift of your presence again - the very thing he’s been begging for.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” He cries, not sure if it’s for you or himself as he sobs your name with the same heartache he would over your grave, “I’msorry! I’msorry!”

“IT’S AN ILLUSION, WILD! IT’S NOT THEM!” Someone shouts from behind - someone who he’d usually easily recognize as Twilight yet his mind is in too much of a rush to even listen to his concerned friend’s words, let alone care about his identity. 

Wild can only think of his final moments with you. The day you ‘casually’ told him about plans to try a new restaurant in Castle Town and how you were looking for someone to join you. Foolishly - ever so foolishly - he asked if your sister wouldn’t go, generally confused that you, someone so kind and loved, would have trouble finding a willing companion for any aspect of your life. 

Bashfully, you agreed to ask her, and that was it. You walked off, leaving the poor hero to wonder why you looked so dejected and heartbroken. The next time he’d see you was a mere picture an old woman showed him, curious if you happened to be the one he ran into town desperately searching for. The woman - your niece, as it would turn out - confirmed his worst fears, explaining that while you had survived the initial attack during the Calamity, you like many others soon succumbed to an illness Purah now theorizes to have been a result of close contact with gloom. 

Wild can only imagine your final moments, poisoned by gloom and betrayal much like this other version of you is. If only he had done his job properly, you would have never felt such pain. You, like your sister, would have grown old and lived peacefully as you deserved. He, himself, wouldn’t have to forever live with this guilt he bears from your death - guilt that tries convincing him it would’ve been better if Twilight hadn’t pulled him away from the danger, instead allowing you - even if not truly you - to get some sort of revenge for his mistakes. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Ordinary Day

Isn’t it nice weather? Let’s take a short stroll and enjoy it.

This is part 16 of 20. We come close to the conclusion.

The Tale of the Cursed Raven:

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 I Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 I Part 13 I Part 14 | Part 15

Information has a way of spreading by word of mouth. Without a form, there is nothing to restrain them from travel, and from the details straying from the truth. By the end of the school day, Kon has already picked up on at least seven variations of the same story.

The disappearance of one Raven Crowley, and the aftermath of it.

She hadn’t attended class for some time now, hadn’t shown her face in public. A wind blew through the grapevine, supposed tea brewing. 

“I think she transferred. Didn’t really fit in here anyway. Probably at some all-girls place now.”

“No, no, she’s being homeschooled for safety reasons. The headmaster keeps her locked away in that tower and personally tutors her.” 

“I heard she’s dead. She Overblotted and went on a rampage in the woods. The dorm leaders had to suppress her and collect the body afterwards.”

He grips onto his textbooks harder, fingers digging into the leather-bound cover and spine. Kon is always anxious, but the whispers tug at his nerves, pulling them taut.

It doesn’t come from a place of concern, he knows. Gossip is gossip, meant to amuse and entertain. 

He wonders if he should confront them, ask them to stop--if they’d even listen to his pleas. 

Because no one wants a story’s end to be as sad as that…

Instead, he ducks behind a column and waits for the chattering group to pass. The debate grows heated, turns into betting and rough housing. Ugly, unpleasant sounds.

The thought occurs to him again. If he tries…

“Are you going to say something?”

Kon startles at the sudden question. 

He senses a figure beside him, but is too frozen with fear to turn his head, to see who it is.

From his periphery, he can glean glimpses of them. Auburn waves threaded with gold, a frilled gown colored as green as the springtime. A soft voice to belong to one of the rowdy mobs. It’s sweet yet flat, like a soda without the carbonation.

Who is this…?

His mouth won’t move to utter what he wants it to. 

“No? You won’t?” they ask. “Ah, you choose to observe then. You are wiser than you would appear to be. A story is just meant to be witnessed. To involve oneself is to meddle. The impartiality, ruined.”

Shock dislodges the knot in his throat. “Wh-What are you saying? The rumors floating around… I don’t think anyone would want that.”

“Talk is what they have, so they relish in it.  Action is difficult. Very few manage to scale the tower to witness the truth for with their own eyes. The chosen, the worthy.”

“I-I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

There is a scoff.

“Perhaps not now, but in the future you may.”

He sees a hand extend, cupping the sunlight. It is sheathed in a billowing green sleeve, nothing like the NRC school uniforms.

“This is a day like any other. Please enjoy the mundaneness to its fullest. We do not know for certain how long this peace will stay with us.”

“You’re not a student,” Kon says weakly. Already, he is sweating up a waterfall on his forehead. “Who are you?”

In the response, a slight smile.

“Just a visitor passing through. Pay me no mind.”

“’Scuse me! Sorry! Comin’ through!”

A ghost outfitted in a mailman’s uniform weaves his way through the hallways of Octavinelle. He doesn’t so much as go around students as he was fazing through them. The only trace of him left behind is a slight chill in the torso, like an ice flower has just melted there.

The mail ghost launches itself through the Mostro Lounge doors.

It’s a busy night.

Students are seated at the booths and at the bar. Friends with friends, soaking up jazz and the aquatic ambience. Plates of seafood and colorful drinks, served under glowing jellyfish.

The conversation flows like water.

“They shipped her off to a lab to get tested. Or maybe she got kidnapped.”

“Nah, she’s in hiding somewhere.”

“She opened up a portal to another world and hopped into it.”

From the podium up front, Jade bows to the mail ghost.

“Welcome to the Mostro Lounge, honored guest,” he greets. “I’m afraid we are fully booked at the moment, so if you wish for a table, you will have to come back in 45 minutes’ time. Though--” Jade eyes the bag of mail hanging from the ghost’s body. “--I suppose dining was not in the cards from the start.”

“Just here for the usual mail delivery.” He reaches into his bag and produces several envelopes, fanning them out.

“Thank you for your service as always. I will receive them for Azul.”

The exchange is made, and the mail ghost continues on his route.

As soon as he vanishes, Jade allows his smile to relax.

The merman begins going through the envelopes. It’s a distraction, but preferable to paying mind to the swirling hearsay. It will only make him irritable.

Plain white, mostly bills or spam mail and advertisements. Hardly anything worth gracing their dorm leader’s desk.

Azul.

Jade frowns.

Since Azul had been whisked away to the emergency meeting, he has been more alert than usual. Jade notices it in the subtleties. His breaths, his glances, the way his fingers drum.

Whatever happened that day, it still bothers him.

He had “spoken” with the other dorm leaders, of course—but none of them knew much, not even Kalim, who claimed to have found her. “Not sure why she was in the woods, but all that matters is that she’s okay now. Maybe she just wandered and got lost?”

Wandering and lost. Those were apt descriptors for how she had looked that night she had stumbled into him. She was haunted then, small and shuddering in the glaring moonlight.

Jade dislikes not knowing, dislikes being kept in the dark.

He barely bats an eyelash until he comes to the final envelope. It doesn’t look like the others, with their formal business addresses and postage. Pitch black, with golden embellishes.

His name is written on it.

In handwriting that makes his heart stop.

���... What is this?”

He tears it open at once, retrieving the letter inside.

Jade,

I realize receiving this may be awkward, given our history. However, I still hope it finds you well.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting about many things. Our time together, our relationship... and also about myself and what it is that I’m seeking.

I haven’t been very brave or honest. I think I can admit that now, though it doesn’t leave me feeling good. It’s like when a baby bird first hatches from its egg. It can’t quite see the world clearly, and nor does it have feathers to shield its vulnerable body from the forces of nature.

I have something important to tell you. Too important to scrawl on paper. It must be said face-to-face.

The apple tree in the courtyard is in bloom. It’s so very beautiful this time of year. I wish I could stare at them forever and ever. In the language of flowers, apple blossoms can mean many things. Love, peace, rebirth, good luck... a long life too.

Let’s meet there, in the shade of the apple tree and under the cover of stars.

Tomorrow, right before the stroke of midnight.

I will give you my answer then.

Best regards,

Raven Crowley

Life at Night Raven College continues.

A single cog it may lack, but the mechanism continues to churn. There is a spot in the core that is empty, where the missing cog belongs. Still, the machine operates without its heart.

Another day comes and goes.

And in the highest room of the tallest tower...

Something goes bump in the dark.

Someone stirs.

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Nine

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Part Nine!! Hope you lot like this one! Thank you so much for all the love its been shown, means a whole lot xx

Warnings: Scene that involves a lot of sudden panic and themes of possessive violence (Nothing too graphic, promise!), drinking but it's to be expected tbh

Masterlist

The pavement outside of the bar was grounding. A solid presence beneath my unsteady feet. 

I let that feeling engulf me as I wandered a little further down from the club doors to press my back against the outer wall. The brick became a tether, I felt the grain of its grit against the leather of my jacket, the way its chill pooled across the back of my head, its rough ridges latching onto the hair that fell there.

It had been the briefest of seconds, a startled glance shared between us both before I had ripped myself away. Knowing that I’d only somehow lose myself in those eyes of his if I lingered a second too long.

But Matty had been all too bashful and almost completely unaware of my presence, so over the top in his greetings to everyone else that he had virtually made it too easy for me to slip straight past his guard and out into the night.

Now, alone, I dragged in a ragged breath. The feverish wisp of the evening air swirled around my tongue, only to then wind its way down the back of my throat. It helped to somewhat still my trembling hands.

Then, almost frantically, I moved to rifle through the pockets of my jacket in search of a pack of fags, or perhaps a lighter- practically desperate to find another means of escape. My mind wouldn’t stop its endless spinning.

I didn't get the chance though, not when the person I'd all but bolted from came tumbling out of the doorway a few feet away, dazed smile paired with a pair of sharp cutting eyes.

"There she is!"

I swallowed thickly just as my head snapped left to meet Matty, who was now making his merry way over, hands tucked in his trousers as he grinned amiably at me. Like everything was fine. Normal.

"Was beginning to think you'd done a runner!"

He didn't look much different from the last time I had seen him, which oddly felt so long ago now. That day in the cafe and then by the tube station. But still, there was something unfamiliar about the jaunty way he now held himself. It was a little too confident, arrogant almost. I wasn't sure how to interpret it. If I was even supposed to.

"No. Just needed some air." I replied, a breath of relief escaping me when my fingers finally wrapped around the familiar feel of cardboard. I pulled the carton out to distract myself from his overwhelming presence and plucked a cigarette from its contents before then extending it outwards. It felt impolite not to offer.

Matty only bared his teeth at me in a grin, as charming as ever, before he leant forward to snag another from the casing. I fumbled then for a lighter, patting myself down in search of it. 

I needn't have bothered though because I blinked and then there was a flame, unwavering in the wind as Matty dangled it carelessly just under my nose. 

My eyes sought his and I wet my lips before making room for the filter.

Matty leaned in closer and I hunched slightly so that I could burn the cigarette’s end, but as I did I continued to observe Matty, his stance, the mask he wore, whilst the fancy chrome lighter worked its magic.

I didn't know exactly where my heart was in that precise moment, but it definitely wasn't in my chest. It was climbing up my throat, pounding against my skin, hammering in my ears. 

I hadn't really noticed it before but now, just being around Matty- especially when not entirely sober- was a somewhat difficult task for me to endure. The man was every sort of red flag rolled up into one being, the kind of person I knew I was better off just staying away from. 

Because people like Matty tended to lure the likes of me in, with their charming smiles and cutting eyes. 

The perfect sort of trap that left you helpless, stranded.

Right then, it almost seemed as though Matty had the power to read every insulant or incriminating thought that had ever crossed my mind. As though all of it was written as clear as day across my face.

Matty took a long drag of his cigarette and propped himself up against the wall beside me, a little too close for current comfort but I couldn't really find it in myself to pull back now.

"Seemed like you couldn't get away fast enough." 

He said it so nonchalantly that I was a little unsure on how best to answer, whether Matty was honestly offended or not by my sudden departure. But before I could even think up a reply, Matty was already striving on.

"But, I can only imagine- must've been more than awkward to see the object you've been ignoring for, well fuck knows how long, standing right there. Within reach."

Matty turned his infamous grin on me then, but my breath had already been caught by the unbidden emotion in the man's eyes. 

"I-" I tried but Matty merely shrugged me off, cigarette ash flailing as he did.

"Don't need an excuse, babe. I get it. I can be a bit much at times- clingy, I reckon’s the right word."

I choked a little on my next drag but immediately started to shake my head. "No, no- honestly, Matty. It wasn't like that."

Matty levelled me with an odd look, but said nothing more.

"Look, I promise. Alright? It’s just- I've had a lot on recently. Everything's been fucking stressing me out, more so than usual, and it's all just. Well, it's all just sort of gotten on top of me." 

Knuckling the side of my eye in frustration, I tugged a hand through my hair, hating myself for the way I couldn't even seem to worm my way out of this one. For the dejected look that sat so blatantly on Matty's face. 

"I am really not saying this right." I huffed out unhappily before I dropped my fag and stamped the remaining cherry out.

Matty merely snorted and I pressed my lips together to keep from biting and instead took a breath, turning to him.

"I'm sorry." Is what I apparently decided on, and felt almost as surprised as Matty looked when the words bypassed my lips. But in truth, I found that I really was sorry for making Matty feel as though he was to blame here. And for whatever other idiotic thing Matty might've told himself as to why I’d been acting like a right bitch lately.

Matty looked at me for a long pause, his hand stilled in midair between us, and I really wasn't very sure how to take the small smile that tugged at his lips a moment later.

"No need for apologies. Honestly. Well, only if you're planning to continue ignoring my messages after all this." Matty quipped and he laughed lightly when he caught my expression, blowing a cloud of smoke out of the side of his mouth.

I felt looser having heard his reply though, and tried for a smile.

"No. No, I wasn't planning on it."

"Good." Matty nodded and I really appreciated the way his face brightened when he did so. But I knew I’d never tell him. "Now! Are you going to buy me a drink for all of my troubles, or am I going to have to bribe that grumpy ginger mate of yours? Who’s even that sodding tall anyway?"

A startled laugh bubbled up from my chest and I couldn't for the life of me even think to decline the ask when Matty was looking at me like that, eyes shining under the streetlamp light, cheeky smile brightening his entire being.

"I'd like to see you try."

I quietly waited for Matty to finish the remnants of his cigarette before I followed the singer back inside, feeling the humidity of the cramped club pool over me the moment we bypassed the entrance.

Matty grabbed at my hand just as we slid by the highly intoxicated hen-do party who were crowding the doors. The action was done without merely a second thought, which wedged that heart of mine up into the walls of my throat and left me almost unaware as Matty continued to lead me through the rest of the crowd. 

His fingers wrapped effortlessly around my own and I clung to them like an anchor to the ocean floor. Struggling greatly to suppress the bubbling urge to play with the large metal ring that adorned Matty’s index finger.

"Oi, I thought you'd left!" Came a booming voice from over my left shoulder, it resonated around us once Matty and I had finally reached the bar.

It was on impulse that I glanced over in its direction and gaped at the sudden appearance of Auley, who's blue eyes were keen but playful, taking the situation in. It was Matty though, who replied, face turned up into a cocky grin as he subtly observed the incoming target.

"It seems,” He said, “That Squeaks here cannot say no to the likes of me."

Matty’s fingers were still grasping mine, I noted then, and was merely grateful for the way the bar's dim yellow lights were able to cover up the faint blush that had crawled up my neck. That statement had only strengthened it though, it seemed. Because, in all honesty, it felt like more than just a partial truth. 

The laughter that followed from Auley was brash and unavoidable, and he made sure to catch my gaze.

"Ah, I see!" Auley winked at me as he went to grab at the large tray of drinks the barman passed him. "Must be those devilishly good looks of yours, mate."

I hated feeling so wrong-footed so I shot back, "Or, maybe his charm."

Auley smirked just as I ducked my head. "I'll let everyone know you're stickin' around then, Mouse. Join us, yeah?"

Before I could dissuade him, to rewrite the picture he’d decided on in his head, the tall ginger had already dived back into the crowd, his head bobbing along to the song playing overhead as he sailed his way through. Everyone back at the table would know that I’d stuck around soon enough.

"What're you drinking then?"

Blinking, I spun back to face Matty and found a busty barmaid waiting on his reply. She was a pretty thing, propped up against the sleek counter, lips quirked high enough to contradict her sultry eyes. 

"Uh," I fumbled slightly before I simply shrugged, "Whatever you're having is fine."

Matty smiled, teeth glinting with the extremity of it, then leant in closer to order, close enough to the barmaid that I struggled to hear their exchange.

The woman flashed him a flirty smile before she finally slipped away, leaving me alone with the likes of Matty once again. I couldn’t for the life of me decide on how I felt about that.

"You been out long then?" I asked as a way of conversation, eyes flitting around the rest of the room, my voice raised just enough to be heard over the music.

"Depends on who you're asking."

My forehead pinched at that, and so Matty laughed.

"Jamie doesn't know I'm out."

I gave a slow nod. "Right. But won't he find out though? You know, come morning, when your mug's plastered all over Twitter and The Times."

Matty’s smile soured ever so slightly at that but he still chirped right back, pressing further into my space, arm brushing mine. “That’s the fun of it, Squeaks. Gotta live a little, yeah?”

The barmaid came wading back over before I could over-analyse his response, settling down an expensive bottle of Belvedere alongside two glasses. "Hope you enjoy it."

Matty dipped his chin at her, one side of his mouth tugging its way up before he hip-checked me into motion.

"Come on then, lead the way!"

--

Strobe lights danced in his peripheral vision, blinding and eccentric enough to cast shadows and beams out over the room. The bass of the current song being played overhead resonated deep within his chest, thudding alongside his erratic heartbeat. But Matty couldn't seem to concentrate on any of that, not when the girl swaying beside him stood so close, a breath away.

"DJ tonight is really going for it!" She declared as she tossed her head back carelessly, laughing up at the ceiling. 

Matty couldn’t find it in him to reply, too busy staring. Mouth agape as his eyes raked over the length of her body. The moisture that clung to the line of her throat, the way that the shorter hairs that framed her face curled in the humidity, how her body just moved. As though she didn't even have to try. Like she was just dancing to dance, not caring who was watching.

Briefly, Matty wondered how hot she must have felt wrapped up in that tight leather jacket of hers, but couldn't for the life of him bring himself to ask. Not when she looked so carefree, so buoyant. Plus, the leather only added to the image Matty had honed in on.

She was grinning still, almost madly now, when she turned her head to catch his keen gaze. She leant in close, so close that Matty could breathe in the scent of her all too easily, the same sweet fragrance that surrounded her constantly and had been filling up his head for days since he’d first smelt it.

"Listen to this riff coming up! Just after the bridge." She instructed him, bright eyes hidden behind drooping lids as her lips brushed against the shell of Matty’s ear. 

He forced back a shiver at the feeling and tried his very hardest to follow the order, straining to focus on the song instead of the girl’s proximity.

She continued to bop her head languidly and her eyes finally fell completely shut just as a guitar sounded. The chords of it flowed so fluently, edging closer and closer towards a finale. 

She looked so serene whilst she listened, so carefree. As though the only language she'd ever been able to truly understand was the sound of music.

They fell into rhythm without even thinking, the two of them, he dropped his head against her neck so that his hips could sway with hers, a drink loosely gripped between the pads of his fingers. And she seemingly allowed it, even as they stood in a crowd so full of onlooking people. 

It was strange though. All of his thoughts were centred around her, the way she moved, the rise and fall of her chest. The three freckles perched on the bone of her collar. But just as that realisation settled in and they continued to dance, Matty felt the sudden sensation of air forcing its way back into his lungs. The action was so apparently clear that he realised, momentarily, that he'd forgotten just how imperative it was to simply breathe. 

He wasn't sure whether it was down to the alcohol, or something other, but he revelled in the sharp chill of it, the rushing of his blood. The way it made him dizzy with adrenaline. It was akin to something he hadn’t felt in a long while.

--

"Mouse."

I hummed noncommittally in response, not paying the voice behind me much mind as I approached the bar again. Matty wanted something fizzy this time around and I didn’t mind sharing.

"Mouse!" It came again, louder.

The crowd seemed to have tripled in the short time it had taken me to weave my way off of the dance floor, it was buzzing now, hands and faces and drinks everywhere. My gaze flickered back over my shoulder momentarily to see if I could still make Matty out in the heaving mass, just so that I could reassure him that I'd soon be back, that I was already at the bar.

"Mouse!" There it was again, that voice, only this time it was accompanied by a grabbing hand. 

I startled at the sensation and whipped around, frowning when I saw it was Ronan standing there, my confused gaze now peering up into his storming blue. I shrugged the hand off, then rubbed at the wrist it had seized.

"That'll leave a bruise." I mumbled with a pinched expression.

Ronan's lips only thinned as he stared down at me, not saying a word. 

I huffed unhappily, "What did you want, Ro?"

Ronan’s sharp scoff cut through the noise, sounding as though I should have already known the answer to that one. "You're bladdered." He practically spat.

"Thanks for the insight, Sherlock." I countered with a mocking salute, and went to turn away again but there was that hand.

"Jesus, Ronan! Can't I just enjoy a night out? Thought you'd be the first person to egg me on!" I found myself exclaiming, only growing annoyed by the unnecessary exchange, by his rough touch.

I saw his jaw tick, the muscles work beneath the grit of his teeth, and instinctively took a deep breath.

With an exaggerated sniff, Ronan cut his eyes at me again, and even in my drunken haze, I knew that I’d made a mistake somewhere.

"Look, I'm sorry." I tried to backpedal, pulse quickening, "I'm just a little tipsy. Didn't mean to go off on you like that."

"Save it." Ronan grunted out, his hand grabbing at my arm once again, this time it was a lot harsher, heavier. So much so that I couldn't hide my wince, nor the sharp inhale. "We're leavin'."

My tongue fell slack as I attempted to swallow the weighty feeling in my throat, sobering up quickly just as Ronan began to tug me through the hordes of bustling clubbers.

It had been a long while since I had first walked away from the redhead. A drunken one night stand which had progressed into a recurring bad habit during my last year at uni, when I'd still been struggling to wrap my head around everything. Fighting back and forth with the idea of being with somebody, of allowing them to see me completely. Of learning how to trust.

In truth, I’d been at my lowest, and the first few times Ronan and I had slept together, I wasn't so sure that I'd been able to walk, much less jump into bed with someone I considered a mate, when I woke up the next morning. 

But I had brushed it aside, figuring that my inebriated mind had only gone after what my sober self had tried its best not to want.

I couldn't really recall the many people I'd got with during that odd period of time, I honestly hadn't wanted to remember much. But Ronan had been mixed in with a throng of others- bartenders, waiters, boys from my classes. And somewhere amongst them all, there had also been Teddy's dad. But the redhead had been a constant. Somewhat of a regular seeing as though I’d had a tiny crush on him way back when.

Then Teddy had obviously come along and I’d been forced to face the facts.

Ronan, as grand as he could often be, was jealous as the best of times, and sadistic at the worst. He didn't much like to share and the man tended to swing towards the belief that the people he had in and out of his bed were his to keep. 

And I wasn't demented enough to think that I'd deserved the treatment, but no one else had noticed back then, no one else could have understood. Then with the arrival of Teddy, Ronan hadn't been much interested in the likes of me anymore. And although I'd been adamant that we’d remain friends, I really hadn't seen much of anyone after leaving uni. And I’d been more than content with that fact for a long while now.

In a panicked breath, I fought for my mind to catch up with the rest of me just as I tore my arm from Ronan’s overbearing grip, causing me to stumble backwards into a large group gathered around a tall table. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" 

Came Ronan's heated voice, it was all that I could really focus on as I struggled to continue backwards, desperate to get away but not wanting to cause a scene. I whispered apologies under my breath without even thinking, tripping over my own feet in my haste.

"Mouse!"

The redhead was hot on my tail though, calling out to me again and again as he forced his way through the overlapping crowd that bustled between us. 

I continued with my sorry’s, murmuring to the people around me as I started to shove and push.

But I had been so focused on the voice coming towards me that I’d all but jumped right out of my skin when I heard my name echo in my ear. A quick flash and hands were settling themselves on my shoulders to still me. 

Impulsively, I jolted away, springing around to meet Alice's wide eyes.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Alice. Alice, where's-" I struggled to get enough oxygen into my lungs as I fumbled for words, any words. The blinding fear and panic I should've been feeling only moments ago convulsed through me now like a tornado ripping effortlessly through a city.

"Mouse!" 

Was that Ronan again? 

My head throbbed with the thought, desperate now.

"Please, Alice."

I could feel the shortness of my breaths as they came out in huffs, my startled eyes flickering every which way as I searched for a way out. An escape.

"Mouse, what's happened? Mouse?" And oh, did I wish that she'd stop saying my name. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to catch a sight of familiar red.

Alice was hesitant to get any closer now after how I'd so violently flinched, but even through the foggy panic I felt I could see her evident worry.

"Mouse! Alice!"

I watched as Alice's troubled gaze trailed somewhere over my left shoulder, to a space just behind me, and I couldn't help the aggressive way I started to shake my head. Hoping she’d somehow understand. I was overreacting sure, but trembling so hard it almost hurt. It should’ve hurt, I thought.

"Matty." Was the first word that spewed out of my mouth, and I started repeating it like a prayer as I felt the walls of the bar begin to close in. And so, a more than concerned Alice nodded hurriedly at me before she cautiously draped an arm around my waist and started to lead me away.

I was almost certain that Ronan was still calling out, but I couldn't quite hear his voice anymore over the pounding in my ears and so I tried to focus on where we were going. I thought Alice was talking, too. But her voice was so gentle that I struggled to read her lips. 

People were flashing by and I noticed a familiar face pass us by then, but they looked far too alarmed and hurried on without a greeting smile, their arms stretched outwards to catch something behind us.

Alice stumbled on, only sparing a single glance backwards as she veered me out from the overwhelming crowd.

I could honestly think a little clearer now, eyes shuttered, flickering back and forth between everyone and everything. Though it all still felt too much.

"Just up here, okay, lovie?" Alice murmured, her presence soothing, safe.

I licked at my lower lip and dipped my head in acknowledgment. "Sorry." I replied breathlessly, voice faint.

Alice blinked at me owlishly and then frowned, before she then squeezed me closer to her side. "Had me worried there, babe, but you don't have to apologise. No need, alright?"

Before I could even think up a response, Alice was speaking again- only, not to me. I dragged my head back up upon hearing a familiar lilt and was bombarded with the sight of a staggered looking Matty. The bright smile he'd been wearing upon our arrival had been wiped away the second he’d gotten one good look at my face. 

"What the hell happened to you?"

The question made me think and my forehead furrowed at the sound of the unknown voice. I peered around slightly to find another man seated right beside Matty, he was of a similar build and with hair just as dark. Matty, who had jumped up to meet Alice and I as we drew closer to the booth, reached out for me.

The expression he wore confused me to no end but I couldn't question it, not when Alice was already handing me over to him, albeit with a bit of hesitancy.

"Is she okay?" Matty asked her briskly, his eyes never once leaving mine. I’d never seen them go so wide.

"She honestly came out of nowhere, practically on the verge of a panic attack and looking as though she'd just seen a ghost." Alice explained wearily, whilst Matty ushered me into the nearest seat. His seat.

He jerked his head at the man sitting opposite as he slid in after me, "Go get us some water, will you!"

The man, put on the spot, looked both alarmed and perplexed at the sudden order, but nodded at Matty all the same before he ducked quickly out of the booth.

"Who-" But my inquiry was cut off.

"Danny, mate of mine. Ignore him." Matty answered, somehow already knowing my question, as a careful hand came up to cup my chin, it guided my face closer so that I could get a better look at him. As gentle as Matty was whilst handling me though, I could see the venomous anger in his eyes, the emotions that warred there. "Who was it?"

I blinked slowly but didn’t look away. "What d’you mean?"

He inhaled slowly, so calm it would’ve been intriguing any other time. "It's obvious that something happened, Squeaks. So who was it?"

Squeaks. Squeaks. Squeaks.

I focused on the way my name curled around Matty’s soft spoken tongue.

"Babe." Matty tried to regain my attention and I felt a soft hand tap my shoulder before it dropped itself. "I can't make you tell me what happened but I want to know who to avoid when I try to get you out of here. You hearin’ me?"

I gaped slightly before hurrying to shake my head in return.

"No, no, it's fine, Matty. Honestly. I didn't, I didn’t mean to scare everyone. I'll be fine. I’m okay."

He levelled me with a look, and for some reason it made me feel as though we were the only two people in the room.

"Please don't lie to me. Not right now." 

Was what Matty came out with, his voice so steady that I truly did wonder whether he'd actually had a drop of alcohol tonight.

"I was raised by liars, can't stand lies." He added and I swallowed thickly.

Matty just sighed.

"Look, I can probably get us out the back door, alright? I'll get Danny to deal with anyone else." He told me, but only continued to ramble on as he pulled his mobile out from his front pocket, and then he was rambling down the phone to somebody else. 

I watched him all the while, still a little dazed from the blinding panic I’d just felt and the idea of Ronan still not being too far. My eyes wouldn’t leave Matty though, even with those thoughts, even though my body craved to search him out, to see if he was near. Head screaming with the intensity of it.

Matty gave me a tiny smile when he hung up and his hand came to rest over my forearm, a vast contradiction to the harsh grip I’d felt there earlier.

"I've got a car waiting outside, you okay with me dropping you home?"

My mum had always claimed I’d been far too proud, hated having other people take care of me, hated them doing the things I could easily do myself. But at that moment all I wanted was my bed. Was to be home. 

And so, taking a big leap, I jerked my head in a quick nod, if anyone could even call it that, and it felt like Matty understood just how much power I was giving up then when the man slid out of the booth and offered up a hand.

Still, I took it.

[honkytonk-hangman]

Water Like a Stone (2/?)

[Orm Marius x Reader]

Summary: Exiled on land and taken in by Tom Curry at the Lighthouse, Orm is introduced to family friend and Marine Park Ranger Grace, a woman unafraid of swimming with sharks and whose job it is to care for the Amnesty coastline... How is he not to adore her.

Warnings: Language, sexual references, mentions of almost drowning? Reader is named, but it shouldn't come up too often, it just makes it easier to write xxx

Notes: This is set post The Lost Kingdom, and is a slight AU given that in this story Atlantis hasn't yet come forward to the world. This is my first time writing for Orm, I hope you enjoy it!!

Word Count: 6.5k

“Daddy, will you tell me about the mermaid again?” you ask, tucked up against your pillows and swaddled in several blankets. It was always cold in the winter, but colder when you're able to convince your father to take you down to the docks for dinner. Not only was the  chill in the wind biting, but you always found some excuse to slip into the water, or at the very least, dip your feet in the shallows.

Your father grunts heavily as he looks back at you from the small book shelf he’d been inspecting. He holds up the thick tome in his hands and eyes you.

“You don’t want the next chapter of ‘Gulliver’s’?” he asks gruffly. Your father said everything gruffly. He was a rough man, with callouses for hands and the strudiness of a bulwark, but even if he didn’t speak all that much, at least when he wasn’t reading to you, and preferred to talk in what felt to you like strange riddles when he did, you never doubted for a moment you were the apple of his eye.

You shake your head quickly, sending your tight, coily curls flying about your head.

“No, the mermaid, please!” you beg again. Your father had many stories from his trips out to sea, but this one was your favourite.

“Very well,” he says, placing Gulliver’s Travels back down on the top of your book case and heaving himself toward the old rocking chair that was by your bed. Your room was possibly the most decorated in your small house, though that wasn’t to say you didn’t own stuff. Your father had endless maps of Amnesty Bay and its surrounding waters, some newer, some practically antique, and some of far off places you’d never even heard of. 

“Alrighty, how does it begin again?” he asks, making you perk up and lean in.

“The storm, daddy!”

“Ah, that’s right. It was the worst storm to cut across the North Sea in years. The waves so high I was certain they’d take the boat down with it. It had come out of nowhere, sudden and ruthless, and we knew we’d have to make port soon,”

Your eyes widen and you swear you feel the splash of the waves and hear the howling of the open air all around you as he speaks, so you cuddle down further in your blankies, and listen close to his every word.

“Thunder and lightning were cracking over our heads, and the boat rocked so hard we could barely get a grasp on where we were. The captain called for all hands, and all hands were working to secure the deck, best as we could anyway in the rolling waves,” your father makes short motions with his hands as if to demonstrate.

“Were you scared?” you ask. Your father nods solemnly.

“Only a fool wouldn’t have been,” he replies, making you frown and nod. “A sailor always respects the storm, just as they respect the sea itself. Perhaps I’d displeased her somehow, because next thing I know, a wave crashed over the deck, taking all things unsecured, including your old pa, with it.”

You purse your lips, trying not to let the thoughts and fears you have of falling overboard fill you. After all, you’d heard this story before.

“It threw me into the water, sent me down, deep beneath the waves, sinking lower and lower. I remember, how dark it was, and how each time lightning lit up the surface above, I could see the boat getting smaller and smaller.”

“Were you drowning?” you ask, making your father pause. He frowns to himself, then looks at you sideways.

“I don’t remember. If I was, I wasn’t thinking about it. This was long before you were born, and back then, I couldn’t think of a way I’d rather go, then have the sea take me,” your father says. You nod fervently. You loved the ocean too, you understood him.

“But then, like the sea herself chose my fate, hands grabbed at me. It was too dark for me to see him properly, but when the lightning struck, I saw him in flashes. A man, pale and dark-haired, dressed strangely, in purple and silver scales, like armour. He took me by my hands, and faster than any man could move, he pulled me back to the surface.”

“Was he beautiful?” you ask, enamoured with the strange man your father describes. He nods sternly.

“Like an angel,” he tells you. “By the time I was gasping for air, the boat hands were throwing out a ring for me. I looked around for the man, but by the time I’d gotten my bearings, pulled back onto the boat, he was gone.”

Your father grunts and looks at you seriously.

“Not a single other soul saw him, only I, but I swear on my very life, he was real.”

You let out the breath you’d been holding and smile at him.

“I’m glad he saved you, daddy,” you tell him. Your father considered your words, before reaching out and gently smoothing his hand over the top of your hair, then down to cup your full, round cheek.

The thunder strikes outside, and illuminates your room.

“As am I, my treasure. As am I.”

-

The morning air bites at your cheeks and nose, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. The warmth from your coffee heats your hands and burns your throat on the way down, but in the best way possible. In front of you, the waves crash and lap at the edge of the rock shore, and sing to you in the early morning light.

You’re sitting on the hood of your car, like you do every morning, parked up on a small shoulder on the lonely road out to your home. You and the Curry’s were the lone residents on this stretch of Amnesty, and the small bay that separates your home had plenty of beautiful spots to park up, sit on your car hood and watch the waves as you drank your coffee.

You look out over the water and let out a soft sigh. It had been a few days since your accident, and you hadn’t found an excuse yet to return to the lighthouse after the morning Tom had picked you up to get your car. You want to scoff and shake your head that you were looking for excuses to return, just to see their newest addition once again, like a high schooler, but the feeling is palpable in your chest you can’t quite bring yourself to do it.

If an excuse was what it took, you would find one.

A good reason seems to find you, however, and you perk up as you see a familiar figure walking along the shore, coming from the direction of the lighthouse. Orm is too distracted to have noticed you, staring out at the waves as the crash and break across the rocks, and you note once more, he doesn’t seem to mind getting wet, his boots sloshed and shiny with sea water.

You place your coffee down next to you, and with your eyes trained on him, you scoot forward down your bonnet and are about to slide off entirely when you glance down and freeze.

A small, white seal pup stares up at you, and it takes a few seconds of you staring back before your face slowly falls into a frown. She blinks at you, cocking her head almost like a dog, before she sniffs somewhat at the air and lets out the most pathetic little bark you’ve ever heard.

“Hello…” you say softly, watching as she waddles a little closer at your seeming response. “Where’s your mother? You shouldn’t be out here all alone,” you go on, looking up briefly and searching both up and down the rock shores and in the waves for signs of more seals. You’re surprised to say the least, beyond the sudden appearance of such a small pup. It wasn’t seal season, and Amnesty had seen off the last of its seals and weaners a few weeks ago.

The seal pup barks at you again, apparently in a huff with you and your questions and she slaps her way around the left side of your car. You laugh down at her, and peer over the side of your truck at her as she continues to bark and whine at you talkatively.

It's only then, as you peek over the side, that you realise the pup has a strange ridge in her neck, and you catch a flash of red and blue. Feeling your thigh for your trusty knife, the same one you’d almost lost diving the other day, and that Orm had fetched for you after your accident. It’s right where you strapped it, as it almost always is, and you quickly roll to the other side of your vehicle.

Slipping down off the right side of your car, you can still hear the pup barking up at where she saw you last. You creep around to attempt to meet her, moving slow and low, but the moment she sees you, she lets out a startled bark, and begins waddling as fast as she can away from you.

“No! Wait!” you call to her, making to chase her down. She slaps her way down the rock shore, and you’re almost on her when you trip, your boot catching on a stone and sending you fumbling down to the ground. Your knee scrapes badly, and the sting of pain causes you to hiss, but you push yourself up quickly and keep moving.

Fortunately, you notice the seal pup has headed in the same direction that Orm stands and you call out to him.

“Orm! Stop her! She’s got junk around her neck!” you shout. Orm startles, spinning around quickly and for a moment he almost looks ready to fight. Then his eyes drop some, and he takes notice of the white ball of fur skidding down to the water and he jumps into action. You think for a moment he won’t make it, but amazingly, you watch as he almost dives for her, catching her writhing body around the middle as he tumbles to the ground.

You meet him quickly, and help him secure the wiggling pup now barking angrily at the both of you as she tries to get away.

“Get her between your knees!” you instruct him, watching and helping as he carefully manoeuvres the seal to the ground between his thighs, and once you’re sure she can’t escape, you reach for the knife on your belt.

“It’s okay sweetheart, just hold still for me,” you baby talk the pup, soothing her with a few pets on her tummy before you push back the ridge of fat covering the fishing wire and get a better look. You ‘tsk’ and hush the seal again as you wiggle your finger beneath the tightly bound wire and she lets out a pathetic little whine.

“I know it hurts honey, but it will feel so much better in a moment,” you tell her, finding a little give on the wire lines and slipping the tip of your blade under them. The wire breaks quickly, cut by the edge of your ridiculously sharp blade. The moment it begins peeling away, Orm quickly starts to help gently pulling away the fishing line as the pup continues to bark and whine. Once it's been fully removed, you take a moment to inspect the shallow wounds left behind before you’re satisfied. You stand quickly, stepping back and away, and you watch as Orm does the same, letting the seal pup run as quickly as she can from the both of you and plop ungracefully into the water.

“Well,” you say, finally looking back up at Orm. “That was exciting.”

Orm looks back at you and away from the edge of the water. You’re breathing hard and he looks you over, like he hadn’t had a chance to until now, which you note is probably true. He nods at your knee.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, making you look down at your throbbing leg.

“I, ah, I tripped when I was chasing her…” you say bashfully, and distract yourself by dusting your hands off on your pants. “Ugh… I should probably get this cleaned up before work…” you tell him. Orm takes a step toward you, looking both uncomfortable and concerned.

“Allow me to assist you,” he says, sounding dutiful. You hesitate, but realise deep down, you had no intentions of denying this man, so you simply nod.

“I have some supplies in my car. I can drop you back at the lighthouse after.”

-

“I think I'm going to have to insist you refrain from injuring yourself again,” Orm hears himself say, pausing momentarily at his own words, before realising he means it. You only laugh in response, and he forces himself to not think about the way he’s rested his hand on your thigh, and equally doesn’t think about the way it feels so natural for him to squeeze lightly to communicate he’d rather you remain still.

“I’m a Marine Park Ranger, it’s part of the job,” you tell him. Orm looks up at you, trying not to be too stern with his frown, but he doesn’t have the words right now to communicate how much that statement displeases him to hear. You don’t need to hear his words however, looking down at him from where you sit on the open lip of your car boot, you shrug and kick your free leg. “Ideally I wouldn’t get injured, but I’m not going to act like it doesn’t happen,” you say.

Orm shifts where he kneels on one knee in front of you and turns his frown back to your knee.

“May I please have the salve?” he asks, accepting the tube of medical disinfectant when you hand it to him. He dislikes the smell of it, chemical and sterile, and it reminds him of the aftermath of battles he’d fought, turning his mind to injured soldiers and regret. He quickly squeezes out a dollop and begins smearing it over your cleaned cuts, holding his breath until the worst of it has evaporated in the air.

You hiss a little, and Orm snaps his neck to look up at you.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks, hurriedly removing his fingers from your skin. You smile down at him, almost more of a wince really, and you shrug.

“It is what it is with these sorts of things,” you tell him. Orm hesitates, looking up at you for a moment longer, before he gingerly places his fingers back on your knee. Your leg jerks slightly, and he pulls back suddenly, looking up at you again hurriedly.

“Your fingers are cold!” you quickly tell him. Orm keeps your eye contact and slowly brings his hands to his mouth, where he blows on them exaggeratedly, then rubs them together, before raising his eyebrows up at you. Your face takes on something akin to a smug little grin, and you turn your nose up just slightly.

“That’s better,” you say.

Orm chortles as he finally places his fingers back on your skin, but glancing up at you again he finds you’re still smiling. Something in him stirs, and he realises, with only mild abashedness, that he thinks he enjoys you like this, above him, smiling blithely.

“How do you know Tom?” he asks then, to distract himself from that train of thought. You shrug then, and hum to yourself. Your other leg kicks again, and Orm wonders if you always figit like this.

“I guess I’ve just always known him. He and my Pa have been friends for as long as I can remember. Arthur and I used to play together when we were very little,” you tell him, sounding thoughtful. Orm leans back slightly, and wipes his hands off with one of the sanitary wipes you’d shown him earlier.

“You and Arthur are friends?” he asks, trying not to sound overly invested. You don’t seem to pick up on his interest in the subject, which he’s glad for, and you make a sound of denial that he isn’t too proud to admit quells the worry that had begun to rise.

“No, not really. We went to school together, but we were always a few years apart. We saw more of each other in elementary, but by high school we were just in totally different circles.”

Orm nods as he takes a ‘band-aid’ from your bag of supplies and peels it open. You laugh then, making him look up at you questioningly, and you shake your head.

“I just remembered,” you tell him, still chuckling to yourself. “Arthur and I went on a date once.”

Orm can’t stop the way his head snaps up to you, and his eyes have narrowed. You laugh again at his reaction, and although you seem to fluster some, you shoot him a wry smile and a roll of your eyes. “Don’t worry, it was a double date, our friend’s just didn’t want to go alone,” you seem to be reassuring him, and Orm realises his reaction has given too much away.

He straightens

“I am not worried,” he tells you worriedly. “Why would I be worried?” he goes on, wishing the sea would just take him now. This time he can tell you’re at least trying not to laugh, but it doesn’t work, and you stifle your giggles with your hand. Orm grumbles to himself, about himself, and finishes placing the covering on your wound. Your laughing gets a little louder then, and he’s about to excuse himself, when your voice stops him.

“Would you like to get a drink with me?”

–

A high pitched bark makes Orm look up from where works and frown at the fluffy white seal pup that he finds sitting at the end of the dock. He frowns even deeper and stands up straight.

“What are you doing here? Go back to your mother,” he tells her. The pup turns her head some, like she doesn’t understand him, which makes him pinch his nose, because, of course she doesn’t understand him, she’s a seal.

The pup barks again, and waddles closer, making Orm drop his hand from the bridge of his nose and shake his head as he takes a step toward her.

“Go on, back into the water, go find your mother,” he says, now much more sternly, gesturing at the water. The pup tracks his movements, but only as far as his hand goes, before she whines at him again and moves closer.

Orm sighs, exasperated by this interaction already, and despite the seal barking happily when he picks her up, he ignores it in favour of gently tossing her back into the water. He ‘humfphs’ to himself, and turns on his heel, only to stop dead in his tracks when a wet thumping sound, followed by now utterly irate barking comes from behind him.

He feels the sopping wet fur before he sees her, given that his eyes are turned skyward and he pleads with whatever gods of land and sea out there to curtail the trials he must face. When he at last looks down, the pup has curled herself between his feet, slotting herself face up and he’s greeted with her dopey, mewling little face as she stares up at him.

“I will not permit this,” he says, attempting to stand his ground. The pup becomes distracted by the lacings on his boots and flicks at them with her flipper, biting the end and pulling it undone before she spits it out, clearly not a fan of their flavour. Orm persists. “You are not coming home with me.”

The seal, against Orm’s wishes, comes home with him.

She follows him up from the docks and into the boat house where Tom looks at him with a raised eyebrow and a pointed look between him and the seal.

“Making friends I see…?” Tom starts, earning a frown from Orm.

“Do not engage with her,” he tells the older man icily, quickly double taking when he turns around and finds Tom already bending down and rubbing the top of the seal pup's head. He looks guilty, to his credit, but he does not stop petting the thing, and Orm glares.

“She looks like a baby,” Tom says then, choosing to simply ignore Orm’s displeasure.

“Yes, which is why she must go back into the water and find her mother,” The blond says pointedly, making Tom chuckle.

“Nah mate, reckon she thinks you are her mother… Pups this small don’t separate from their mother’s like that. Chances are her mothers gone,” he tells him.

Orm glances back, his frown still in place, though lesser now. He gets an idea then.

“Then we should call Ranger Grace. She would know what to do,” Orm says, happy with himself for finding a solution to what has clearly been sent as a trial to test him. Tom shakes his head.

“You can call her, if you want, but there’s nothing to do about a pup without a mother. The Marine Park Office can’t interfere with nature, and Grace’s specialty is sharks, anyway.”

Orm’s face falls and he frowns again, though for a different reason now.

“Then what? She dies?” He gestures at the seal pup, who, upon hearing his voice raised slightly again, scootches away from Tom and settles herself at his feet. Tom straightens, and fixes Orm with a strange expression he’s not sure how to read.

“That would be the way of it, unless she were to be looked after.”

Orm stares at him for a moment, his lips pursing. The pup at his feet barks pathetically, and bonks her head against his ankle. Tom chortles.

“I’ll call the Marine Park and see about what she should be fed.”

-

“So I hear that seal pup came back this afternoon,” You ask as Orm rounds the table you’ve claimed, and places down two beers. He looks up at you sharply, and you snicker quietly as he finally takes his seat.

“No sign of her mother, then?” you continue on as if he isn’t acting grumpy. You get the impression it's mostly for show anyway.

“It does not appear to be so,” he says, somewhat huffily, making you snort. Orm’s face softens then and he rolls his eyes. “Otherwise she might have better manners,” he tells you, his lips betraying his still-annoyed words by the way they flick up in the corners.

“She’s a seal, a baby one at that, and she must’ve been very hungry to approach a human for help,” you roll your own eyes, missing the way Orm seems to pause at your words. “I’ve never met a baby who has manners when they’re hungry,” you go on. Orm appears to recover himself and nods.

“Yes. I imagine you’re right,” he concedes, before fixing you with a curious expression. “Tom thinks we have to name her.”

You nod enthusiastically, as you take a sip of your beer, placing it down gently as you hum.

“You do– you should, at least. Seals are very intelligent, if you want her to respond you should name her soon… Do you have any ideas?” you ask him. Orm frowns.

“Do I have any ideas of what to name the seal? I have ideas of what I would name my children, not a seal,” he huffs, but once again, you get the feeling it’s all bluster. You ignore him.

“She seemed pretty mischievous… What about… Mimi?”

Orm looks at you deadpan.

“Mimi,” he states, and you have to admit, the name does sound rather funny coming from his mouth. You chortle.

“Good, I’m glad you agree,” you brush him off, making him splutter but he gets over himself quickly, and eyes you evenly while you sip your beer.

“I see why you and Tom get along… and why you and my brother may not,” he states. You smile at him and shrug.

“You and I get along,” you point out, beer still in your hand. Orm smiles then, much wider and with a glint in his eye he lowers his chin at you, taking up his own drink as he settles forward against the table.

“My brother and I are very different people,” he tells you then, voice much lower than before, and you get the feeling he means something you don’t know about yet.

You shrug one shoulder and match his posture, leaning a little against the table, watching how his eyes follow your movements, but quickly flicker back to yours, like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

“Tell me about yourself,” you question. Orm stares at you for a few more seconds before he shifts and finally looks away, easing up his intensity slightly.

“What would you like to know?” he says, as if he were an open book, which is not exactly the impression you have gotten from him the previous times you’d met.

You’re also aware, as you consider what to ask him, that from all you can tell from the outside, his family situation seemed complicated. You’d never actually seen Orm and Arthur together, and from some of his reactions, you think they perhaps haven’t always gotten along.

“Well… you and your Mom are new in town–” you cut yourself off, and hum. “Actually, your mom isn’t, not really. I don’t remember her, I was born yet, but my father does,” you correct yourself, fornwing a little. Orm cocks his head, clearly curious, and blinks slowly at you.

“Your father remembers my mother?” He asks. You nod, and take a drink before talking again.

“Yeah… It’s funny actually. When we were little and used to play together, I’d ask him where your mom had gone. I didn’t know anybody else who only had a dad, like me, so I was curious,” you see Orm consider your words, perhaps even briefly perk up as if to ask about your own situation, but he mellows again quickly and drops his eyes from yours to focus on his fingers wrapped around the stem of his beer.

“What did he say?” he asks. You can tell the topic might be a sore spot for him, so you try to lighten the tone a little, let him know you knew nothing, and your father wasn’t a gossip.

“He told me she was a mermaid, and went back to the sea,” you say with a laugh. Orm’s eyes flash up to yours and for a moment he seems startled. You smile at him, and shake your head, and although he smiles back, your story doesn’t seem to have fully set him at ease. If anything, he leans even closer to you, his brows rising curiously.

“Your father believes in mermaids?” he asks. You shrug at him and roll your eyes again.

“My father spent years as a sailor out on the North Sea. He believes in many things,” you tell him nonchalantly. No need to scare him off yet with the collection of oddities that consisted of your father’s very real beliefs, nor the fact that even if you didn’t know what to think about many of them, you believed your father. Orm doesn’t seem phased though, he cocks his head again and looks at you with slightly more intensity.

“Do you believe in them?” he asks. You almost brush him off, but the way he asks isn’t amused, he doesn’t seem as though he’s looking to make fun. If anything, he seems incredibly invested in the topic, or your thoughts on it really, and you hesitate. Looking away from him to gather your thoughts, you stare out the window of the grimy tav and out at the docks, where the wind blows the waves almost up and over the walkways themselves.

“I believe my father saw something, let’s leave it at that for now,” you find a middle ground, and when you look back at Orm, you find him inspecting your expression closely, but he picks up what you’re putting down and eases back a little. He nods formally and pushes down his own intrigue.

“Of course.”

“Stop changing the subject, anyway,” you start again, making him smile at you again.

“Well, before we move on, do you mind if I ask what happened to your mother?” Orm says politely. You give him an amused look.

“She left when I was young. Couldn’t deal with my father’s work schedule. It’s just been him and I for as long as I can remember,” you tell him lightly. Orm frowns.

“You don’t sound upset,” he questions, and you shrug.

“She lives in the town over, we see each other sometimes, but I don’t know. She might be related to me, but she didn’t realise me. She’s not my mother.”

Orm stares at you, clearly intrigued by this.

“I did not grow up with my mother either,” he says then, surprising you.

“Oh, I just assumed…” you trail off and he shakes his head, clasping his hands in front of him and smiling thinly at you.

“No. She had to leave me against her will when I was very young,” he tells you. You raise your eyebrows and shoot him a wry look.

“Prison?” You joke, taking a sip of your beer, only to find Orm’s features taking on a grimness. He nods.

“Yes.” You cough, spluttering, and trying not to spit your mouthful of beer.

“I’m sorry, what?! Really?!” You ask at last when you’ve managed to swallow, your voice a little rough. Orm nods again, though waves one hand dismissively.

“Let us leave it at that,” he echoes your words, and although it takes you a moment to process, you slowly nod.

Orm looks you over, and clearly sensing more than a little curiosity still in your demeanour he waves his hand again before folding his fingers together.

“Don’t worry about my childhood, I grew up with… family,” he assures you, sending you a somewhat smaller smile than the last. “I was in the relative lap of luxury, and I’ve gotten my mother back now,” he goes on then. You nod a little more convincingly and his words have done their job of sending your curiosity down a different path.

“You grew up with your father?” You ask. Orm hesitates, but hums, and takes another drink.

“Yes,” he tells you, but says no more. You realise in one word, that whatever pain he might have talking about his mother, it’s nothing compared to his father. You switch topics.

“Did you know you had a brother, or is that a newer discovery?” As far as you knew, Arthur hadn’t known  at least, you’d never heard him mention a brother before, but you know families can be complicated, and from the sounds of it, Orm’s certainly was.

“Yes, I did. But my father… he kept us apart.” Orm trails off and smiles sympathetically at him.

“Hey you don’t need to talk about that, if it’s not a happy subject,�� you assure him. A glance down at movement coming from his hands, you find his left fidgeting, his fingers tapping on his knuckles, and without thinking, you reach out across the table and place a hand over his threaded ones. Orm looks up at you, curious or surprised maybe, but you don’t pull back, not until after his expression shifts and he gives you a tight smile and nods.

“I would prefer not to discuss him,” he tells you, more honest than you’re expecting. You nod, and pull back your hand, but before you can fully retreat, he quickly unfolds his own and takes yours. “Another time, perhaps, but I am enjoying myself, and I do not wish to bring the night's events to a sour note.”

You nod again, and after a moment longer he releases you. You miss his warmth, you realise.

Orm’s attention seems to be grabbed then, something over your shoulder catching his eye, and he follows them seemingly across the room. You turn to look, and to your surprise you find Arthur, tall and broad as ever, seating himself next to Tom at the bar. He sits himself sideways, speaking jovially from what you can tell, but he quickly casts his gaze around the room and you watch in real time as his eyes land on Orm and yourself, and he grins large and wide, looking between you with teasing interest.

Orm whips his head back to you, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen anything akin to true panic on his face. Definitely a complicated relationship, you note. You try to play it as cool as possible, like you haven’t noticed Arthur or Orm’s reactions and you quickly reach out and place your hand on your companion's arm.

“Hey, you wanna go for a walk?”

Orm looks back at you distractedly, but frowns lightly, and quickly looks outside.

“In this weather?” he asks, still not fully paying attention, though, given how intense he normally is, you don’t hold it against him.

“Yeah, why not?” you say, standing, making the decision for him at that moment. Orm too stands, and you grab your coat from where you’d rested it beside you earlier. “Come on,” you say hurriedly again, catching the tail end of him shaking his head and desperately mouthing something over at who you will just assume is Arthur. He looks back at you wide eyed, and somewhat guilty. Taking his hand, you give him your best understanding look, and jerk your head once again in the direction of the door.

Orm swallows but nods and you lead him around the tables, the furthest you can manage from the bar until you reach the door, where you hold it open, and let Orm walk out ahead of you, though you notice he looks back over his shoulder as he leaves. You take a glance too, and it appears as though Arthur had spun around in his chair to follow the two of you as you moved, and his grin is no less wide, nor cheeky as he raises an eyebrow and waves.

You give him your best, most innocent smile, and wave back, as if nothing at all is going on, and let the door shut behind you.

“I’m sorry, I did not know my brother was to come tonight,” Orm hurries to tell you. You shake your head at him as you fall into an easy step beside one another.

“It’s okay. Arthur can be… a lot… not exactly the most welcome third wheel on a first date,” you say without really thinking. Orm pauses and you stop too, looking back at him. He cocks his head.

“I had not realised,” he says. Your eyes widen somewhat and you cough.

“Oh well, I just assumed, I mean, that’s usually what–”

Orm steps up to you again, and lowers his chin, fixing you with an amused, playful grin.

“I apologise again, I only jest.”

You let out a scoff and shove his shoulder. He doesn’t seem to expect it, and you find he doesn’t have much give, your earlier thoughts about his muscular stature not proving to be wrong, it seems. Orm chuckles at you, and you suppose it’s all you deserve for your trick on him this morning, about his cold fingers.

You begin to walk again slower this time, and given that the wind seems to have died down some, but it’s still cold, you pull on your coat and lead him towards the docks.

“My brother and I… we have a strained relationship, I suppose one might call it,” Orm tells you softly as you begin walking over the wooden pathways that run maze-like across the bay. You look over at him, and find his face drawn in a serious frown. “But we are working on it, and… we love each other, which I believe is the most important thing,” he gives you a wry smile, and you return it.

“You don’t have to tell me any of this, you know?” you say, though you get the impression Orm is not a man who is easily convinced to do anything he doesn’t want. He looks back at you again and studies your face.

“You wished to know me better,” he begins. “I am willing to let you, I just worry you may not like what you find,” he says at last after a short pause, lowering his eyes and no longer meeting yours. You cock your head at him and gently nudge his shoulder with your own.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask curiously. Orm doesn’t reply right away and you come to a stop at the end of the pier, where he stares out at the ocean now, instead of making eye contact.

“I am not always proud of who I have been, as of recent,” he tells you, again, his voice quiet and subdued.

You blink, unsure of what to say at first, but you appreciate his honesty.

“Well… are you trying to change?” you respond, causing him to turn and glance at you, his brows pulled together in thought. He studies your features again before nodding solemnly.

“I am trying,” he says, with a short stilted laugh to himself, but his face falls again after. You nod back and turn to look back out at the sea.

“Then you have nothing to worry about, I like what I find.”

Even without looking at him, you can feel his gaze hot on the side of your face, as he stares at you in silence for a moment longer, before he too focuses his gaze back out at the water.

“I am… enamoured by you.” His words startle you somewhat, and you can’t help but laugh in your surprise.

“Enamoured,” you repeat playfully, causing Orm to turn back to you and raise his eyebrow in a challenging sort of way.

“Are you making fun of me?” he asks, though he clearly doesn’t appear to mind so much, the smile pulling at his lips telling you as much. You shake your head, but laugh again.

“No… It’s just… sometimes… you speak like a fairytale prince,” you tell him, honestly, but not condemningly. Orm raises his eyebrow higher and clasps his hands behind his back, causing your smile to widen, and you lift your own brows as if to point it out. He ignores it and straightens.

“Do you find me strange?” he asks, his face still amused, but his words genuine, the question in them seemingly more than what it first appears to be.

“Yes,” you tell him. “But I like it. It’s endearing.”

Orm’s smile softens, and he grows somewhat bashful, though his straight posture and pride somehow remains through it.

“If it endears me to you, it will be one change I will not make.”

[handoneohone]

What would happen if the reader meets Yandere Alastor after the fight with Adam? Like Alastor was in denial about his love ( obsession ) for the reader... But now something has broken and Alastor is perhaps more dangerous ( I'm trying to talk about the last episode, when Alastor goes to his radio tower which is broken )... And reader tries to be a good friend so he goes looking for alastor and finds him in this scene...

Bonus: imagine the reader delicately rejecting alastor's love, because he only sees him as a friend

you dont know how much i loved that scene 10/10 request tyyyy word count:1513

Y/N stands amidst his allies, his body aching from the excursion and injuries sustained during the fight. Despite the victory, concern covers his features as he scans the area for a familiar face. Alastor

"Where is he? He was fighting Adam and just… poof” He muttered to nobody 

Ignoring the calls from his companions to celebrate, Y/N’s concern for Alastor overrides his pain. He remembers the moment he noticed Alastor's disappearance, a sudden drop in his stomach, fearing the worst may have happened.

With a grimace, Y/N pushes through his injuries, a singular thought moving him forward: Find Alastor.

The journey to the radio tower is taxing, more so with his injuries. Y/N's determination doesn't falter; if anything, it toughens with every step he takes away from the battlefield and towards the looming structure in close distance

As he approaches, the damage to the tower becomes apparent—shattered windows, broken antennae, a testament to the battle's reach. The sight fuels a mix of emotions in Y/N; worry for Alastor's well-being, confusion over his sudden departure, and an inexplicable fear of what he might find.

Climbing the debris-strewn stairs with a limp, Y/N’s breaths come in short gasps, his injured leg protesting with every step. Yet, the thought of leaving Alastor in whatever state he might be—potentially hurt, or worse…—drives him onward.

Reaching the top, Y/N pauses to catch his breath, steeling himself for what's to come. He calls out, his voice echoing in the broken silence.

"Alastor? Are you here?"

There's a moment of nothing—no response, no movement, nothing but the whistle of the wind through the shattered remnants of the tower. Then, a shift in the shadows, and Alastor emerges, his usual poise disturbed by the visible signs of distress.

Y/N 's concern deepens at the sight, the relief of finding Alastor alive quickly overshadowed by the realization that the demon is not himself. The cheer, the confidence, the unshakeable demeanour—all seem to have cracked under an unseen pressure

Y/N, limping and visibly injured, pushes through the debris to find Alastor standing amidst the ruins, his back turned, staring at what used to be his source of power.

"Al... I was looking for you. Are you alright?"

Alastor spins around, a facade of cheer on his face, but his eyes betray a storm of emotions.

"My dear Y/N! Of course, I am. Why wouldn't I be? Though, I can't say the same for you. That looks quite nasty," he says, nodding towards Y/N’S leg.

Y/N wincesas he puts a little pressure on it "It's nothing. I was more worried about you. You disappeared during the fight."

"Worried? For me? Oh, Y/N, you do care! More than you should, perhaps." he glances away briefly.

"We're friends, right? Friends look out for each other." you reason, why shouldn't you worry?

"I... I'd like to think we respect each other, that we can be friends on equal footing."

The moment the words leave Y/N’s mouth, Alastor bursts into laughter. It's not the warm, infectious laughter Y/N has grown accustomed to; it's cold, and mocking, and it chills Y/N to the bone.

"Equals? Oh, my dear Y/N, that is rich! You, a mere sinner, and I, a being of immense power, equals?" He wipes an imaginary tear from his eye, still chuckling. "Your naivety is endearing, truly. But it's also a silly illusion. We are not, and can never be, equals."

Y/N feels a sting at those words, a mix of embarrassment and hurt. He'd always known Alastor was different and powerful- But Y/N’s hopes of finding common ground seemed to dissolve under Alastor's scathing amusement

"you see, in my world, power dictates one's standing. And I... I am on a level all my own. But don't feel bad, Y/N. It's not a slight against you; it's simply the way of things~ And in many ways, it's why I find you so... fascinating."

Y/N’s heart sinks as he realizes the depth of Alastor's conviction. The disparity in power, in their very natures, had always been there, but Y/N had hoped their friendship could bridge that gap. Now, faced with Alastor's laughter and pointed words, that hope flickers and dims.

"I see. I just... thought there was more to us than power dynamics,"

There's a dangerous gleam in Alastor's eye as he steps closer, his demeanour shifting subtly.

Alastor, his smile turning sharp, replies, "Oh, but we are, Y/N. You're a puzzle to me, a delightful anomaly in my world of predictability. That's why you're invaluable, not as an equal, but as something rare and fascinating to possess and protect. And that, my dear, is why you will always be mine."

Before Y/N can protest or even register that last part, Alastor is at his side, gently yet firmly examining the gash on Y/N's leg. His touch is cold, sending shivers up Y/N's spine.

"You've done a number on yourself. Hold still, now."

As Alastor tends to the wound, his fingers accidentally press against the tender flesh, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Y/N.

"Al! That hurts!"

"Oh, does it? My sincerest apologies. I'm only trying to help, after all. You do realize the precarious position you're in, don't you, Y/N? You're hurt and you came to me all alone. Who knows what could've happened if I didn't find you"

Y/N attempts to pull away, but Alastor's grip tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to assert his control.

"Alastor, I... I appreciate your concern- and now i know youre okay! I think I should get going..."

Alastor's mood shifts then, his smile faltering as he releases Y/N's leg and stands up to full height, a shadow of his full demonic form flickering in the moonlight.

"Going? But we've only just started, Y/N. You see, I've been thinking about our future together. There's so much I want to show you, teach you. You could learn to love it... love me."

"Alastor, you're my friend. But that's all I can offer you. I don't feel the same way." Y/N confessed.

Alastor laughs a sound that sends chills down Y/N's spine. "Oh, Y/N. Sweet, naive Y/N. Do you think you have a choice in this? I decide what happens next. Not you."

He steps closer, his transformation beginning to take hold—his form growing, limbs elongating, and eyes darkening.

"You see, I enjoy the chase, the struggle. It's so... exhilarating. But every game must come to an end. And you, my dear, belong to me."

Y/N tries to back away, but Alastor's now elongated arm wraps around him, pulling him close. Alastor's touch is gentle yet possessive, his transformed face inches from Y/N's.

"You'll see, in time. You'll never have to be alone again. I'll take care of everything. All you have to do is say yes."

"I... I can't. Please, Alastor. Don't do this."

Alastor's grip tightens, his other hand cupping Y/N’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Oh, but Y/N, you've already said yes. Every time you smiled at me, every time you sought me out for comfort, for friendship... you were leading me on. And now, you're scared? That's on you, not me."

“Al- I'm sorry i didnt… i didnt mean to! i-” you feel terrible that you may have accidentally led him on.

Y/N, caught in Alastor's gaze, found himself momentarily unable to resist as Alastor leaned in, his lips pressing against his in a possessive kiss. It was a clear assertion of dominance, a claim rather than an act of affection. Y/N pushed back, finally breaking free from the kiss, his heart racing. feels trapped, realising Alastor's power and possessiveness, closing in on him. He's terrified, understanding now the depth of Alastor's obsession and the danger it represents.

"You won't leave me, Y/N. Not now, not ever. We're bound together, by fate, by choice, by necessity. You'll see. I'll make you see."

Y/N is left shaken, realizing the full extent of Alastor's power and the lengths he's willing to go to not just possess but own him. He knows now that rejecting Alastor isn't just dangerous—it might be impossible.

"Now, let's go back to the hotel- or whats left of it… They are probably wondering where i've been!" he says cheerfully, like nine of that just happened.

Y/N follows, not because he wants to, but because he understands the peril of refusing. Alastor's arm around his shoulder isn't just an act of affection—it's a shackle.

I really like this one.. Since Alastor is an Aroace cannon, I feel like he wouldn't be sexual even with his obsession. He views the kisses as more of an act of dominance rather than getting any pleasure out of it, maybe idk if that makes sense how I phrased it. Im making a list of rules tyoe things soon for request. tysm for requesting

[ereana]

drabble prompts: zhongven; 2, 36, and/or 50

Zhongven 2 - The thought of losing you scares me

Venti was angry.

He didn’t like being angry. It scraped against his mind like shards of glass turning the very air around him into sharp stinging winds, the sort that left humans chilled to the bone on a cold winter’s day when not even the warmest coat could keep out the cold.

It was a little embarrassing really. He was one of the oldest gods left yet he still was at the mercy of his own emotions unlike a certain blockhead who—

The sound of splintering wood filled his ears as the tree beside him disintegrated into sawdust as the very air around it tore into the bark in a sudden fit of rage. Venti pinched his brow and let out a deep sigh.

Right. This was why he was here sitting on one of the cliffs overlooking the Stone Gate instead of drowning his sorrows at the Angel’s Share. Diluc might actually try to kill him if Venti destroyed the building because of his bad mood. Plus he didn’t want to accidentally hurt any of his people who were completely innocent and had nothing to do with his current displeasure unlike a certain traitorous liar of a lizard that he was determinedly not thinking about. 

A few unlucky birds flying overhead let out chirps of alarm as they were suddenly spent spinning towards the ground, with a flick of his fingers Venti corrected the breeze and sent them gracefully soaring towards Liyue.

He watched them silently for a few moments. While he wasn’t the sort of being to lose himself in melancholic thoughts there were times when taking a minute or two to just think could be helpful. And it wasn't like this was a normal situation either.

If it was normal, whatever normal meant to a wind wisp turned god turned ex-archon turned bard — although he had been a bard for quite some time so maybe the chronology needed some rethinking — then he wouldn’t have any issue controlling his anger. Venti would like it to be noted, probably in one of his own songs, that he was usually pretty good at the whole self control thing. He hadn’t turned his anger on Mondstadt when he’d learned what happened to Dvalin. There were secrets that could shake the world locked safely behind his teeth. Granted there were perhaps a few too many people who knew his true identity but it wasn’t his fault that his people were so perceptive!

With all that compelling evidence in mind, Venti was confident in asserting that had this been a normal issue he would not have had to exile himself to a barren cliff edge because he was a danger to everyone around him due to his fury turning the summer breeze into blades of anemo.

He nodded decisively before groaning at his own inability to deal with the actual problem

Although judging by the footsteps steadily approaching the problem had come to deal with him instead.

Venti closed his eyes and waited until the intruder had reached the top of the cliff, unable to get too close because of the protective vortex which now surrounded him but close enough to hear him.

“I’m mad at you.” Venti stated quietly, his voice devoid of its usual humour.

“I can tell.” Morax — or was it Zhongli now — said calmly. So calm it made the winds whip up into a frenzy sending blades of freshly cut grass spiraling into the sky. 

“Is that all you have to say?” He asked, and now there was a note of anger in his tone. “After what you—” Venti cut himself off, clicking his tongue in frustration at the mix of hurt, relief and sadness which swelled inside his chest.

“No, there is much I would say to you. If you would allow it.”

Venti laughed, a harsh sound that grated against his ears.

“Oh now I’m suddenly someone worth talking to. Now. When the damage has been done and the dust has settled here you come ready to make things right once more. What does the immediate upset matter when it can be fixed with a deal or a contract to replace what has been….” Venti stopped and finally turned to look at the man behind him. “I thought you died Morax.”

Morax stared at him quietly. They’ve known each for far too long to hide anything from the other and Venti can see in an instant that he won’t get an apology for what happened. Morax will offer one for hurting him, for not seeking him out straight away after the matter had concluded, but he won’t apologize for the act itself. 

“You had to, my dear. In case someone was watching the wind had to mourn the loss of the mountain.” Morax stepped forward causing Venti to instantly drop the vortex in case the old fool actually hurt himself.

It only took a few of his husband’s long strides before Morax was lowering himself to sit beside Venti. Venti, who hadn’t seen him since he woke up from his unplanned five hundred year long nap, dropped his head onto one firm shoulder. It was about as comfortable as using a rock for a pillow.

“The thought of losing you scares me more than anything. It almost broke me.” He admitted softly. 

If there really had been a murderer in the world Venti would not have stopped until he’d ripped the air from the culprit’s lungs himself.

Mor— no Zhongli was probably best to use now. Morax had died.

Zhongli wrapped a hesitant hand around Venti’s waist. Venti let him, too tired and too relieved to push away the comfort. His husband wasn’t wearing any gloves so the warmth from the golden veins in his hand seeps through Venti’s shirt to his skin. After five hundred years Venti was back where he belonged.

“Don’t do it again blockhead.”

A press of lips against his head, the stroke of a thumb against his waist, and the first contract made by the man known as Zhongli.

“I promise.”

[eksvaized]

Part Twenty Two [ Previous 〡 Next ] ︱AO3 ︱Wattpad ︱ taglist: @kingsprettyangel, @simonsslvt, @herwristsarehercanvas, @the-faceless-bride, @ghostieslove, @bbypionaa i f you want to be added - let me know!

The next morning, a gentle light filters through the curtains, softly illuminating the room. As you slowly awaken around noon, a faint scent of fresh linens lingers in the air. You aren’t surprised that you slept in, but you are surprised to see Simon still asleep beside you. Carefully shifting your body, you feel the warmth of his arm, which had been draped over your waist, slip away. As you do so, the blanket glides against your skin, providing a comforting sensation as you pull it up over your shoulders.

The events of last night replay in your mind like an old film, grainy and distorted, shrouded in a veil of fog. Your memories are muddled and jumbled. But there’s one thing, however, that you remember vividly — the kiss you initiated. You don’t know why you did. At least that is what you try to tell yourself. You also try to rationalize it, to convince yourself that the alcohol made you lose control and do it, that you weren’t thinking clearly. Yet somewhere deep inside, buried beneath layers of denial and self-deception, you know the undeniable truth — you wanted to kiss Simon. Fuck, not only that, but you wanted more, much more. Because after days of feeling numb, empty and hollow, the moment you started to feel different, the moment when happiness started to seep in, when contentment started to fill up the hollow spaces, you couldn’t bear the thought of letting those feelings slip away.

Simon’s lips part, and he mumbles something in his sleep. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, but you quickly wipe it off, not wanting to give in to the warm fuzzy feeling spreading through your chest.

Eventually, after what seems like an eternity of simply watching Simon sleep, you roll out of the bed. Your body feels as though it has been run over by a truck. All your muscles scream in protest, aching in places you didn’t even know could ache. But, on the bright side, at least the room isn’t spinning anymore, and the world isn’t dancing around you like a sickening carousel.

Planting your feet on the cold floor, the stark contrast between the cozy warmth of the bed and the biting chill of the floor sends an icy jolt up your spine. You slowly get up. As your gaze wanders around, it lands on the window, which is slightly ajar. At first, you think it is a trick of the light, but as you approach it, a sudden gust of wind forcefully pushes its way through the small opening. You halt for a moment, letting the wind play with your hair, feeling the strands whip against your face. Then you inhale deeply, pulling the fresh air into your lungs.

Had this happened a week ago, you would have been frantically scheming of ways to pry the window open fully, perhaps even considering jumping out. But now, you simply stand there. Your arms are wrapped around your waist, as you take in shallow breaths of the crisp air. Now and then, your eyes dart over your shoulder, checking on Simon. Yet he continues to sleep soundly, undisturbed by your movement…

You take a shower, wash your hair and then spend another hour in the bathroom, standing like a statue in front of the sink, looking at the mirror that is above it. You don’t recognise your reflection. The woman staring back at you is a stranger; her features unfamiliar, the dark circles under her eyes a harsh reminder of your restless nights. With a sigh, your fingers lightly trace these unwanted signs of fatigue before your palms come to rest on your cheeks, hiding your face from view.

When you return to the bedroom, you find Simon awake. The sight of you, dressed with your hair still slightly damp from the shower, brings a smile to his face. Surprisingly, you smile back at him.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks and you nod. “Good.”

You are rooted to the spot, standing near the end of the bed. Uncertain of what do to next, you watch Simon, who remains just as quiet, his gaze never leaving you.

“I’m hungry,” you finally break the silence. At your words, Simon sits up, the movement causing the blanket to slide off him and reveal his bare skin. Your eyes involuntarily travel down his chiselled chest, only returning to his face when he speaks.

“What are you in the mood for?”

Caught off-guard by his question, you shrug and then spend the next five minutes in deep thought before finally answering with the least helpful response, “Something sweet.”

* * *

Simon refuses to let you assist him in the kitchen. And the only thing you are allowed to do is slice fruits with a knife that’s so dull, it could hardly cut through butter. Meanwhile, he takes on the more prominent task of meticulously mixing the pancake batter. The conversation between you two starts off as a gentle simmer. Neither of you are particularly talkative, letting the comfortable silence fill the gaps.

However, as soon as he brings up your low tolerance for alcohol, insinuating with a playful glint in his eyes that he had somewhat anticipated the night to culminate with you in the bathroom, the teasing begins. Trying your best to furrow your brows and pout, you make a valiant attempt to look offended. However, a traitorous smile still creeps onto your face, betraying your feigned annoyance as you shake your head in disapproval, unable to hide your amusement.

“Surely, you weren’t dozing off after one glass,” you retort, your words dripping with sarcasm.

“No, I was simply resting my eyes,” he counters, his focus riveted on the sizzling stove.

His back is turned to you. His broad shoulders block your view of his face, creating a perfect opportunity for you to roll your eyes at him. “Yes, yes, yes, you were!” you exclaim, your voice echoing in the kitchen as a giggle bubbles up from your throat.

The grating sound of a heavy vehicle crunching against the gravel in the driveway abruptly disrupts your and Simon’s morning. The tires, burdened by the vehicle’s weight, screech in loud protest against the sudden halt. Your heart, caught off-guard, skips a beat, fluttering like a caged bird against your rib cage. A wave of anxiety washes over you, chilling you to your core and making your breath hitch in your throat as a singular thought crashes through the tranquility of your mind like a thunderbolt: Johnny.

Every attempt to bury the vivid memory of the last time you saw him, of his betrayal, seems in vain. It’s a haunting memory that persistently pricks at your heart - a deep-rooted, festering wound that never quite managed to heal, always lurking beneath the surface of your consciousness like a shadow in the twilight. Although, now, as you look back, his actions no longer seem steeped in betrayal. Instead, it feels as if he saved you from a fate far worse. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, a thorny truth that pierces through the veil of denial, but you realize that if it hadn’t been for Johnny, you may very well still be lost, wandering aimlessly in the endless forest.

As Simon slowly, almost reluctantly, reaches for the knob, turning off the stove, you rise from your seat simultaneously, too. His steely gaze barely grazes your direction. But when it does, and he finally looks at you, his eyes are a stormy sea of unspoken words. Without uttering anything, without any hint of a sound escaping his lips, he sharply jerks his chin upward and a silent command reverberates across the kitchen. You nod. Immediately, your feet carry you towards the staircase and you ascend it, rushing into your room.

As soon as the door closes, you find yourself darting towards the window. In the driveway below is parked a truck. However, it isn’t the aged, beaten-up truck you’ve come to associate with Johnny.

Your face presses against the cool glass, cheeks squishing against the smooth surface as you attempt to get a better look. Your breath fogs up the window as you squint, trying to make out any details. Yet despite your best efforts to angle your head, crane your neck in the most uncomfortable of positions, you don’t catch a glimpse of Johnny.

It feels as though time has stretched out as your gaze remains unwaveringly fixated on the ominous truck outside. But then, the tranquility of the quiet house is shattered by the unexpected sound of heavy footsteps. It’s as if a herd of stampeding elephants has suddenly decided to hold a raucous parade from the narrow hallway into the living room. A lump forms in your throat—physical manifestation of your growing apprehension that propels you towards the door.

Yet, when you finally reach it, a wave of raw, unadulterated fear washes over you, rooting you to the spot as if your feet have been ensnared in a pool of quick-drying cement. The low, rumbling voices of multiple people filter through the wooden grain of the door, their unintelligible murmurs further stoking the raging flames of your anxiety. In this moment, you realize with a sinking heart that you are not brave enough to open the door. Nor do you possess the courage to venture out of the sanctuary of your room and steal a peek at the commotion happening downstairs.

* * *

You are sitting at the table, meticulously tearing pages out of some book and trying to fold paper flowers when the door creaks and opens. Instinctively, your head swivels toward the hallway.

You expect Simon to step in, but instead it’s Johnny. He looks taller than you remember, his presence imposing and intimidating. His face is etched with severity, and he’s decked out in all black gear, from his boots to his heavy-duty jacket. The sight of him, especially the glinting gun strapped to his thigh, makes your pulse race. You find yourself recoiling instinctively, curling up defensively in the chair you’re seated on. An uneasiness engulfs you. You know something is off, although you can’t put your finger on it.

“Hey,” he greets you, his stern expression softening slightly as he bridges the distance between you. His eyes reveal a flicker of an emotion you can’t quite place, but seems dangerously akin to guilt.

With a curt nod, he signals for you to follow him. His commanding tone, a subtle mix of assertion and urgency, leaves no room for argument or hesitation. But despite the palpable fear that gnaws at your stomach, you shake your head and don’t stand up. Your hands, as if on their own accord, tighten around the paper flower you had just folded. The pressure of your grip squashes it mercilessly in your fist; the once delicate, painstakingly crafted creation is now a crumpled mess.

“Where’s Simon?” You ask, not caring about anything else and certainly not wanting to go anywhere with Johnny.

“Downstairs,” he replies simply, his tone cryptic.

As you and Johnny engage in a silent standoff, you remain defiantly seated, refusing to rise, while he holds his ground, refusing to exit. The air between you is thick with tension, becoming a palpable third entity in the room. A cascade of questions tumble from your lips like a waterfall, demanding answers as to why Simon had sent him to fetch you, and why you are required to go anywhere at all. Yet, Johnny remains cryptic, providing no answers to your queries, only promising to tell you what is going on if you come with him. Still, regardless of his promise, you don’t budge.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” suddenly, he says, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut. You freeze, your body involuntarily stiffening as he reaches out to you, his fingers gently wrapping around your shoulder in a squeeze. “I know what he did,” he confesses, his voice thick with sincerity and regret that is too profound to fake.

Perhaps Johnny assumed that his confession and the promise of answers would be enough to coax you into leaving the room and following him without protest. However, you remain resolute, unyielding in your decision not to move a muscle.

Eventually, Johnny resorts to physically guiding you downstairs. His hand clasps around your arm and pulls you to your feet. But even then, he exercises caution, making sure not to apply too much pressure that could hurt you. His fingers don’t dig too deep into your skin, as if he’s mindful of avoiding causing you any unnecessary discomfort or pain.

The moment you and Johnny cross the threshold into the living room, the once spacious area seems to shrink, as if the walls are closing in. The reason for this is the presence of three imposing figures, each one bigger than the last. Meanwhile, Simon is perched uncomfortably on the edge of the couch. His fingers drum against his knee, producing a rhythmic tap-tap-tap that echoes in the otherwise silent room, amplifying your anxiety to an almost palpable level.

You don’t know who these men are, standing tall with tense backs and squared shoulders. Their eyes, sharp and calculating, rake over you like icy gusts of wind. The sight of the men staring at you is enough to make you feel a dizzying sense of unease and make your heart pound in your chest; the room spins slightly as if you are on the verge of fainting.

Your immediate instinct, driven by a primal need for safety, is to sprint toward Simon. Yet Johnny, with his uncanny ability to anticipate your thoughts and actions, is quick to react. After reading your body language, he firmly holds you back. His grip on your arm is unyielding, as if he were a statue carved from stone. Instead of letting you dart towards Simon, he steers you toward a chair that has been hastily brought into the room and forces you to take a seat.

[mixtapedoh]

actually you can go with seungmo + winter falls too. i think he's more of a winter falls girlie than lino. actually anything with winter falls 😭🙏

you knew what you were doing when you paired seungmo with my favorite skz ballad,,,,,,, your support and your mind will never go underappreciated in this house ♡♡♡♡♡

ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɴᴏᴡ ꜰᴀʟʟꜱ (ᴡᴇ ꜰᴀʟʟ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ)

☄. *. ⋆

pairing: kim seungmin x reader (not endgame) genre: angst, reminiscing word count: ~1k warnings: heartbreak, mentions of blood (metaphor and imagery), all thoughts no plot (sometimes fanfiction is about VIBES and VERSE, not cohesive story telling), gratuitous sneaking in and bastardization of song lyrics

olive's notes: you know know i had to go full tumblr for the title of this fic. song lyric titles (with something in parenthesis) how i love you, how i have missed you, how you changed the very synaptic pathways in my brain ♡. nothing will ever be as influential as you ♡.

consider my mini writing event ?

It wasn't the weather that made you think of him.

No, because that would be all too cliche — tidy and neat — something easy to anticipate and, perhaps, simple to avoid.

In a way, you could blame it on the snow: the soft, fluffy flakes too carefree to be cold, spinning on the barely there wind, a graceful pirouette to a gentle, almost forgotten landing. It was beautiful — the first snowfall of the year — and because it's arrival was so benign (unexpected and mild, creeping into the edges of the day until it's whispered chill tickled your skin and it's gossamer flakes were delicately kissing your head), you had no warning against the flood of memory it would bring in it's wake.

It was the couple on the end of the street that reminded you, though, if we're to be fair to the elements and truthful in the story we tell.

Two figures at the furthest distance from your current standing, hand in hand, startled as they walked out of a shop and into sudden snowfall. The leftmost of the two, seemingly more ecstatic than their loving counterpart, stuck out their tongue, angling their head skyward, and after a moment, laughed in delight, or some approximation of it. They turned to their partner, kissed them on either cheek, and then took off their jacket to place around the other's shoulders. Perhaps there was an exchange of half-hearted argument, but the moment ended with the two of them walking off, one double-braced against the building cold, the other habitually turning their palms to the clemency of snow — as though the moment was pure and this weather something to be held.

Snowflakes fell of your cheeks. If you were to be asked, they were to be blamed for any wetness, there.

Memories come in waves, and they are a vengeful and needy sea: demanding to be realized, sure in the devastation they bear. But how long is it before an experience crystalizes into memory? What is the minimum amount of time that needs to occur before that passage is significant and longing for someone can turn into missing them?

You weren't quite sure if it could be called missing him: this gnawing, guilty feeling accompanying your thoughts of Seungmin.

Once, the two of you had been friends so close, no one could talk about either of you without mentioning the other. His footsteps always following yours, your voice a necessary addition to any of his statements. So close your names spilled into the other, so present there was a space carved in the both of you for the other to reside in. Side by side or in tandem, there were always two.

And there were two, that night, when your warmth was carbonated with a fizz of intimacy and bubbles of desperation. You confessed to the secret of loving him and he worshiped that attachment with his lips. Again and again, a mantra that intensified to the fervency of song.

I love you, love you, love you.

And how many times did you say that before the sentiment set to rot, and the permanence of that phrase became something of the past?

I loved you, loved you, loved you.

Again, snow fell on your cheeks, pulling you just far enough out of your mired thoughts, to remind you to finish your walk to that lonesome, quiet destination called home.

You had Seungmin for longer than you held him, and the feeling of his voice in your mind was more resonant that the touch of his lips on yours. Evocative, cohesive, tenacious — something you couldn't yet unstick from the crevices of your thoughts.

Seungmin beside you, Seungmin whispering into the shell of your ear, Seungmin placing his love in the spot where your neck met your shoulders, the crook of your grin, the place above your heart.

But the wind blew, the novelty faded, the movie ended and you were stuck in the credits where words became meaningless and effort was forgotten in the aftermath of spectacle.

The ease corroded, the bitterness spilled, past tense slipped into the habit of your speech until all the tenderness between you was finished and gone by.

I loved you, and it wasn't his words or yours, but something set on the table for the both of you to consume. A sentiment on which you both engorged and drank dry.

Everything had changed, and yet you were somehow still the same. Seungmin had been so clearly and undoubtedly part of you — you carved out his place inside you alongside him! You hollowed out a space for him, and he for you — and yet with the absence of him, should there not have been something desperate and bloody for you to fix? You had searched and pleaded and clawed at the edges of you to find that void so you might set it to rights, but it evaded you, still.

I loved you.

Perhaps it had already healed over.

Perhaps it had never been.

But still, that unfound cavity ached in you. It was filled with the sound of his voice, and the phrases in his diary he'd let you read and you held to committed memory — it was shaped like the palm of his hand when it cradled you, and it contorted to the essence of his grin.

Would it have been different, had you never said anything all that time ago, and instead chose to keep those feelings in a bottle, only to be uncorked should Seungmin, himself, had fallen first and told you so? Maybe you could have kept that bottle of spirits in the most hidden parts of you, and, on nights when your yearning sharpened to the point of a knife, drank from them — an alcohol of illusion — just enough to get by? Maybe he would have found the bottle, and smashed it to ruin, or maybe he would have loosen it and get the both of you drunk off your own delight.

You would have liked it, perhaps, had he been the one to fall.

Maybe then he would stare at the innocence of snowfall and mix the feeling of it's melt with salty tears.

(ʇɹɐdɐ llɐɟ ǝʍ) sllɐɟ ʍous ǝɥʇ 'uıɐɓ∀

☄. *. ⋆

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[wootensmith]

Through the Glass, Darkly

He felt it when she went, even half a continent away. A sudden rush of power, like rivers running back to the sea, as the remnants of the anchor found the way to him and her will was extinguished.

He’d thought he’d prepared himself for it in more than just his mind. He’d had what he needed for the ritual for years. His waiting was purposeful. The Veil had to fall, but he tried to give them a temporary reprieve, hold it off as long as he could. The devastation in the wake of that final breath was unbearable. He’d tried to find her in the Fade, prove himself false. All he’d found was the absence where she ought to be. Not even an echo of her. He was uncertain whether that was worse or if it were a mercy. He didn’t send out agents to verify her loss. It was unnecessary. It was always going to end this way.

He grieved. Alone. 

And when there was no time remaining, he began the ritual. 

He comforted himself with the idea that the process was almost finished. A few more tasks and he could finally put the burden down. Let go. Release his consciousness back into the void, rivers returning to the sea. No longer alone.

The transfer was delicate. That is what he told himself afterward. That he had been too absorbed in its complexity to remember all the precautions he should have. In his deepest heart though, Solas knew that he’d let Varric find him. He’d hoped— well, it didn’t matter any longer what he’d hoped. For a scrap of her to remain perhaps. For some last thread of sanity for him to grasp onto, some alternate way that Varric or Dorian or anyone had dreamed up. A way out. 

The night was chilled, brittle. A long and drenching rain beat down on the stone steps, on the expressionless, titanic stone statues that guarded the prison Solas had built so long ago. He would have liked to do it some balmy summer night, late, late, when all the land slept, a peaceful slide into the end. But there was no more time, his pursuers were closing in and he could delay no longer if he truly wished to complete this before he was discovered. A few hours more and the crisis would be over, for good or ill.  It took time to build up the necessary power to burst through the Veil, even with his dagger. He concentrated on gathering his strength in the nucleus of his ritual.

“Hey, Chuckles, hope I’m not interrupting.” Solas wished he could feel the relief he’d expected at Varric’s voice, but rage and sorrow swept it quickly away. “You should not be here,” he said, turning momentarily toward Varric. He was much older than Solas’s memory. More somber, no sly grin or glint of sarcasm in his eye. Just exhaustion. An overwhelming tide of grief tugged at Solas. An instant of recognition of what they had both already lost. “No,” admitted Varric. “It shouldn’t be me who’s here. We both know that. And if you’d let us find you a year ago, it would have been her instead.” “Go home, Varric. It is perilous for you to remain,” he said, ignoring the raw anger in Varric’s voice. “It’s perilous everywhere else, too.” Solas began to turn back to take the next step in the ritual.  “She believed in you to the very end, you know,” said Varric.  Solas hesitated, the enchanted dagger clenched in his hand.

“That’s why I’m here instead of barricading Kirkwall’s harbor or raiding the wine cellar at the Hanged Man and drinking away the final nights of the world. Her last breaths were asking us to find you. She was convinced you were in trouble. None of us could persuade her of anything different. And we tried, Solas. We tried. So here I am, to ask you because she can’t. Don’t do this.” Solas shook his head and returned to the ritual. “You don’t understand. The Veil is a wound inflicted upon this world, it must be healed,” he said, squinting against the increasing wind and rain. “By drowning the world in demons?” “I have taken precautions to minimize the damage, Varric.” “Minimize the— People are dying right now! You need to listen.” The click of Varric’s crossbow was still familiar after all this time and forced Solas’s attention back to him. “Please,” Varric added.

It was his desperate tone that pushed Solas too far. He shattered Bianca with a thought. Told himself it was to prevent Varric from using it, but they both knew the crossbow was only a prop to catch Solas’s attention. Neither of them had the will to harm the other. Not now. No, he destroyed the crossbow in a paroxysm of sorrow and jealousy. Varric had been with the Inquisitor in her last moments. Had been where Solas should have been. And now he stood where she should have instead. Some part of his anger was for the Inquisitor as well, irrational as it was. For failing. For not standing in Varric’s place.

“People are always dying,” Solas snapped. “It is what they do.” He turned back and struck again at the Veil.

“You’re not the only one who misses her,” said Varric, so quietly that Solas almost missed it. “Destroying everything we fought together to preserve isn’t going to make you feel better.” Solas didn’t answer, concentrating on his task. The air smelt of ozone and rain, something he tried to grasp onto, to ground himself. “Why did you bother helping us?” asked Varric after a moment. “Why not just let Corypheus win if this was all you were after?” He shut his eyes, hearing an echo of the Inquisitor asking the same, though it had been about the Qunari invasion, not Corypheus. He was not ready for the physical ache in his chest. He grit his teeth and slashed at the widening tear in the Veil.

“Was it just your ego? Couldn’t stand for someone else to destroy us and wanted to do it with your own hands? Or was it that you didn’t have the anchor and you couldn’t do this without it? That why you used us? Her?” Rage simmered in Varric’s tone, and Solas couldn’t help but try to explain. “No! I—” “Why now then? It’s come back to you, hasn’t it? The anchor’s power? That’s it, isn’t it? You were just waiting for her to die. I guess I should be grateful you waited then.”

Solas whirled around to face Varric. “I wanted you to have more time,” he said. “But there is no more to be spared. This is bigger than us. Bigger than the Inquisitor or our friendship. Bigger than me. Whatever your plan is, Varric, it will not alter this. I cannot allow you to threaten this ritual or me.” Varric laughed. “Me? Take down the Dreadwolf? No, I just wanted to ask you a question.” Solas hesitated, wary. His skin prickled as the Fade leaked from the tear, washed over him, beyond him.

“This ritual of yours— what’s it meant to do? I mean, from what the Inquisitor told me, you rebelled against the Evanuris and that was a disaster.”  “They’re imprisoned,” Solas protested. Varric ignored him. “You created the Veil and that’s a disaster. How will this time work any better? Tell me that.” You haven’t told them everything, Solas reminded himself. “I understand your hesitance, but what I do now has to be done. This is beyond your comprehension.” “So explain it,” Varric insisted. “Tell me why. Why tear down the Veil knowing all the lives it will cost?”

Solas bit back his impatience. “We can have this conversation later. Let me fin—” “Just like you were supposed to explain to the Inquisitor once we defeated Corypheus? Or like you apparently intended to do when we chased you across the Crossroads years ago? You keep promising to explain ‘later’ and then chickening out. It’s later, Solas. Explain now. What is so vital that it’s more important than all the people who are dying?” “We shared a journey years ago. Do you truly believe I would do this if there were some other better option?” “A year ago I would have said no,” answered Varric. “But now— I don’t know what to think anymore.”

It stung, hearing Varric’s doubt. I cannot afford to linger, he told himself. “You came a long way and made a valiant effort, Varric, but this story does not end with my downfall.” Varric sighed behind him. “I never wanted your downfall, Solas. None of us did. Do you know what she said the last time I saw her? The anchor, your anchor, had spread, eating her up like frost crackling across every inch of her. Agony. And we were all helpless. All of us. She should have been furious. But she wasn’t. ‘He’s in trouble.’ That’s what she told me. ‘I don’t know what and and I don’t know how to aid him, but he’s in trouble and he needs us.’ That’s why I came. Because she knew you needed—” he broke off as a terrible rending rumble erupted beneath them. The ancient carvings began to topple in a nightmarish slow slump toward them. 

Horrified, Solas managed to catch the foremost statue and push it away. But he was too late. The Veil stood open, the ritual interrupted. The creatures of centuries of nightmares erupted from the yawning Fade. Solas froze in shock until he distantly realized that Varric was calling him. “— out of here, Solas! We can’t stay!”  A tug at his elbow shook Solas loose from his paralyzing fear. “Run, Varric,” he croaked, trying to shield the dwarf bodily, “Fly from here!”  His ancient spell collapsed, sucked itself back, an implosion. When the rumbling stopped, the world was gone. And Solas was again, alone.

[tempests-bards-and-birds]

Venti Week Day 1: Old Friends

for this! this is woefully late and i deeply apologise for that but i have been busy for the last couple of days so. shhh no it's not :) (i'm also not that happy with it and it has not been beta read or even edited but i'm tired so. yeah)

anyway! a conversation between venti and rukkhadevata because i'm Normal

The grass under Venti’s feet rustled with a soft sigh as he sat down on the mound, the dappled sunlight that slid lazily through the canopy of trees above them casting a rippling glow over the clearing. Almost absentmindedly, he brought a hand to his lyre, strumming a few chords and watching as the bustle of the children of the forest ceased, just for a moment, as the gentle notes lingered in the air, their sudden stillness practically thrumming with anticipation.

A soft, bright laugh rang from where his companion was sitting cross-legged on the plush forest floor.

“It seems like they really like that one - you’ve truly outdone yourself if you’ve managed to enthral the Aranara to that extent, Barbatos.”

Rukkhadevata’s fingers were playing idly with the fronds of grass, a certain light seeming to pulse through them just at her touch. She glanced up at him, her lips curved in a knowing smile.

Rolling his eyes, Venti flicked a light gust of wind in her direction, the blanketing warmth of the rainforest air serving to grant it a softness that completely removed any and all possibility of actually annoying its recipient.

“Aw, you flatter me - truth be told, it would be remiss of me to not admit that a lot of the inspiration for that tune came from those lovely dreams of yours.” Humming, he plucked out a few more notes, the Aranara’s hesitance seemingly giving way to their curiosity as they began to crowd around him in expectation. “Nevertheless, I’m glad that your friends are enjoying my little impromptu performance.”

She raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, is that so? Well, I’m truly flattered that they were able to be of such use to you in your creative endeavours. It is only right that the wisdom found in dreams should be able to inspire some of the purest expressions of emotion.”

Venti nodded, her almost immediate understanding of his intentions tugging at a certain hollowness in his chest - one that he knew could never be filled again in the same way; and yet, Rukkhadevata’s respect for the value of song still served to ignite a similar warmth in the absence; it was, in some ways, enough.

“Perhaps that’s why they seem to be so fond of this number in particular then, huh.” He mused lightly as he cast over the lushness of the clearing that was absolutely brimming with life. “Well, if it is able to remain in their memory and the memory of this forest, then I’d be glad of it.”

He glanced back towards his friend, and just for a second, the serene smile on her lips seemed to falter, a flicker of uncertainty showing through for just a second before it returned, though it now no longer shone quite as brightly with the relaxed joy that it had done so with earlier, when all that had been hanging in the air in the clearing between them had been jovial music and laughter.

“Yes,” she breathed, almost inaudible against the constantly thrumming backdrop of life in between the trees and the leaves. “The forest will remember these songs - it will remember the emotion and the wisdom carried within them, even if the one who first inspired them is no longer present.” 

The strands of wind rustling in the branches stilled as the suddenness of her words started to seep through, slow yet creeping like the chill of the morning dew that still clung to the blades of grass beneath them, like the almost unnoticeable piercing of the subtly sharp fragments of shattered magnifying glasses. On the surface, he of course knew what she was referring to; the endless, repeating flow of memory through the wind, through the trees, through the ley lines; the communal ownership of such memories, and how the stories they told would eventually come to belong to those who told them, and not those who first penned them. They both knew this as an irrefutable fact of this world, but the quiet conviction with which she said it caused Venti an unnamable pause.

For once, the words felt stilted, as though they were tripping from his lips, as he dared voice a question.

“You… you mean that…”

“Barbatos,” she said firmly, suddenly, her eyes meeting his in a look of steady assurance, “if everyone in this world were to forget that you were the writer of the songs they love so much; if they were to forget you, and still enjoy the gifts of music that you gave them without a second thought for who the giver of those gifts might be, what would you do?”

Would you resent them? Would you allow them to resent you for leaving?

He pondered the question for a handful of seconds, the meaning of her previous statement seeming all the clearer now. The thousands of responses he could give sat heavy on his tongue, before he took the one that felt right, and carefully laid it out between them.

“I think that I would be glad that they had found meaning in those songs without feeling as though they had to because I was the one who gave them to them; I think that I would be glad to see them still enjoy and share those songs together, not because someone made them, but because in doing so they would be able to create new meanings from them together.” He paused, breathing in the scent of ancient wood that hung in the air, before continuing, a light smile playing on his lips. “After all, isn’t that what knowledge is all about, o mighty God of Wisdom?”

He watched her eyes flicker with slight surprise, a small gasp escaping her lips before they curved ever so lightly into a smile, her hands folding over one another as she chuckled.

“Thank you. I think you’re right - I simply hope that whatever’s left will be enough for the provocation of the enlightening discussions of which you spoke.”

Venti huffed. 

“You know, I’ll do my best to remember and contribute in all the ways I can, too.”

Her newfound certainty seemed to lighten something in the space between them, or perhaps cause it to slide into place, or at least the light laughter that rang out in response to that made it sound that way.

“I know - and thank you, Venti.”

[sandinthemachine]

Chilling Rapture

Part 2 of Deadly Nightshade, a monster!König au.

Part 1

Masterlist

I actually had so much fun finishing this one, my power went out and I had to handwrite it by candlelight until my wifi came back on, hopefully it's strong enough to post this now because the lights keep flickering.

I also have a draft sketch of the map so hopefully that can come soon as well.

For those interested, the songs at the beginning will sometimes be chosen for a little bonus foreshadowing. There's also a Shirley Jackson reference in this one for any classic horror fans out there. Hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: nothing serious yet (lemme know if I missed anything)

Word count: 3,313

There's someone walking over my grave For a sudden shiver is making its way Creeping over me, coursing down my spine And taking over this body of mine I can feel it in the depths of my being A chill of the blood, an ominous feeling -"Walking Over My Grave" by Blackbriar

It is a quiet kind of night.

No. To say it is quiet does not do it nearly the kind of justice it deserves, nor does it stir up the emotions such a night as this has urged forward, deep in the pit of your stomach where your dinner still sits heavily.

Quiet ushers forth a peaceful kind of relaxation wholly unlike the thick black tar rising up your back.

Silent perhaps is closer, only insofar as the word conjures in you the hopeless repetition of the phrase silent as the grave.

You find every warning and caution drifting through your head as you shift in the bed, but where you would expect fear you feel only an anticipation, strangely dissonant with the weariness of your body.

Where are the birds? Where are the whales? Why hasn’t there been a single gust of wind?

The sea, in clear view of the window when the curtains are open, is soundless. How is that even possible? It is as if some strange god has thrown a great smothering blanket over the entire island, trapping each tiny soul in the silence below. Like flies in honey.

You can’t even hear the blood rushing in your ears.

You find yourself staring at the window curtains, their blackness somehow darker than the shadows around them.

With no notion of why or even how, you find your legs swinging over the bed very much of their own accord, carrying you to those curtains, and behind you the soundless void presses in, a great wave bearing you forward, and you think perhaps you could open this window, let it carry you right to the ocean itself and down below, for surely then you’d hear something, even if it was your own splash before you were dragged below.

You brush the thought aside with a quiet resignation. You will open the window, you think. But only to hear the water.

The curtain fabric brushes velvety soft over your fingers as you push them aside, ears perked to hear a shuffling of fabric, a metal scrape of rings over curtain rods, but neither sound ever comes.

You pause at the drawn curtains, staring at what you know to be the window. It is completely indistinguishable from the darkness of the walls and the curtains, such that you find yourself raising a hand, pressing a palm into the cool glass to make sure it’s there. But when you remove your hand it is as if the window once again vanishes, leaving you staring blankly, eyes nearly burning in their hopeless struggle to see.

You feel strangely dizzy all at once, as if gravity is shifting, pulling at the air around your face, warping the flooring beneath your feet, tilting the walls in hopelessly contrived angles you can’t possibly see in this crushing dark. You could be upside down now, walking on the ceiling with no idea. Perhaps there is no ceiling at all and you are stepping straight up the walls and soon you will step off and fall sideways for an eternity and you will never even see the ground flying by you. Or maybe you will keep walking right up into the sky, only all the stars are gone and you’ll never know the cool mist is clouds wrapping around you as you climb for the rest of eternity.

You shake your head.

Why are you here again?

You suddenly get the overwhelmingly primal feeling that something is watching you, something carved from the darkness itself with no need for eyes or ears, stalking up to you, and you will never see or hear it, you’ll only know it’s there the second it reaches through the window and claws sink into your ribs, grabbing at the heart whose frantic beating it senses like a beacon in the night and…

You yank the curtains closed, stumbling backwards. The need to gasp briefly possesses you, but your throat tightens against your will, cutting off even that sound in a mocking kind of rage.

My quiet, a thousand thoughts chant through your head. My quiet, my darkness, my place, mine mine mine.

And you, who are you to break the silence of this night that doesn’t belong to you?

Your heart stuttering and flapping against your chest, you fall back into bed, tucking your legs up against your chest so tightly you feel it in your lungs.

You bury your face in your knees, swallow a sob.

And try desperately to sleep.

You finally shift again, dragging your head upward as a sluggish grey takes over the room, shoving the shadows further and further into the corners. You stare at your bare shins as the light hits them, a single finger tracing delicately over deep blue-black. You hover your hands over the outlines with a detached kind of contemplation, fingers stretching back into place, perfectly aligning with the rounded shapes.

You hadn’t felt it last night.

Best not to think about that, actually. You let your eyes drift back to the window curtains, fitting your lower lip between your teeth as you take in their limp form.

Right now, stained by the leaden rays of another grey dawn, they’re just curtains. Old and decrepit, with a fraying bottom corner and a coffee stain along one edge. Beyond them is a dusty window, and a view to a monotonously dark sea.

Nothing more.

Never anything more.

The walk to the kitchen is uneventful, the shadows thin and cowardly. A persistent chill worms its way up your neck, but even that gives up when you pull a blanket around yourself, tucking it over your head like a fluffy oversized hoodie.

When you were little, you and your mother always used to bundle up like this, huddled on the couch on cold winter nights as you begged your father to hurry up and restart the fire, please, I’ll freeze solid this instant if you don’t.

Be a lot less complaining around here if you did. And he’d grin at your indignant face, winking over at your uncle in the armchair as they both chuckled.

He’d always pull out extra blankets afterwards, though.

With a loud gulp, you pull the blanket tighter around you.

You should write to your uncle. Yes, that’s exactly what you’ll do, you know you packed stamps and envelopes and...

Damn.

You forgot to pack a pen.

It’s fine, that’s an easy enough thing to find.

In any other house, that is. For the more you search, the more you realize just how little this place has. One floor of cramped rooms smelling of dust, dust, and more dust. A tiny office with an empty desk. Even stranger, atop the desk, atop every surface, actually, are no clear patches, no thinner patches of the dusty coating to indicate that anything had ever been on top of them. Did your uncle have any stuff? Or was he really just content with this place as it was?

You begin to wonder if he ever really lived here at all, or if maybe this is some kind of cruel prank the world is playing on you, sending you to this decrepit old cottage on a tiny island in the middle of nowhere with no friends and nothing to-

Elisha. Probably not a friend. Yet. You’d met her once, after all. But maybe friendly enough to give you a pen. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

You try not to dwell on that question as you throw on some warmer layers and shove past the front door.

Immediately you’re greeted by a frenzy of your own coughing as the acrid tang of cigarette smoke floods your lungs.

What the hell?

You spin all around, scanning your yard, but of course the only one here is you. As you walk forward, the smell quickly fades, and you decide that’s a problem for another time. For all you know, it won’t ever happen again, anyway.

Elisha’s house shows no signs of life, so you knock on her neighbor’s door instead. Almost immediately the rickety door swings open to reveal a stout old man glowering at you past a crooked hooked nose.

You stutter out a hello, earning nothing but an eyebrow raise. “I…uh, well, I just moved in down there and, anyway I just came by to ask Elisha for a pen but it doesn’t seem like she’s…home.”

You trail off as he marches past you, right up to shake Elisha’s poor door with a trio of hard knocks. “New one’s here!” he yells out, not even listening for a reply before picking his way back to his own porch, giving you a wide berth. “She’ll be down in a minute.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He pauses in the doorway, regarding you for a moment before giving a quick nod. With that, he disappears back inside.

A little creak pulls your attention back to Elisha’s door just as her head pokes out of it. “Oh, sweetie, what are you doing standing out in the cold?” She gestures frantically. “In, in!”

With nothing better to do, you oblige.

Her cottage is as small as yours, but that’s where the resemblance ends. A warm fire blazes in the fireplace, combining with the soft light of a couple candles to cast the entire living room in a comforting orange glow. There’s no hint of dust to be found, only soft chairs and a couch covered in extra pillows and fuzzy blankets. Dark blues and emerald greens. An oil painting of a salt marsh hangs above the fire place. Peaceful. Full of sunlight. You take a deep breath, sighing. Woodsmoke and vanilla. Fresh coffee. A hint of ocean salt.

She’s watching, you now realize, heat flushing through your cheeks as you glance at the floor. Even the carpet looks soft. “I…I was actually just stopping by to ask if you have a pen.”

She smiles softly. “Of course, dear.” She moves to the counter, deftly plucking one from a hand-painted mug before pausing. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No, ma’am.” The carpet is the perfect shade of green.

“You had better stay, then. I just made fresh rolls, I have plenty of extra.” She tucks the pen into her pocket.

“Oh, I really shouldn’t.” There’s a faded spot in front of the fire. Does she have a cat?”

“Really, it would be my pleasure.”

“I have to get b-”

A hand taps on your shoulder and you jump, finally looking up again. Something warm presses against your sternum, and you glance down. Tea. Your fingers curl around it hesitantly, the weight of it somehow unfamiliar in your stiff hands.

Elisha was just talking. You glance up, trying to force a smile. “Sorry?”

She only sighs. “Couldn’t sleep, could ya?”

Your eyes drift back to the mug, taking in the little gold stars painted along the rim. Their edges begin to blur, and you blink, a little too fast, shake your head even faster. The walls feel cramped again.

“Hey, hey.” Bony fingers wrap around yours, gently pulling you forward, and a hand is on your shoulder, guiding you to sit on the couch. You let yourself sink down, barely noticing Elisha walk away until she’s back and a plate of warm food is being placed in your lap. Your eyes are wider now, burning just a little as you look up at her. She’s already turned away, though, swiping a book up from a side table and curling in an armchair to read.

Tentatively your fingers close around a roll, guiding it to your mouth as the smell floods through your brain.

You’re sure Elisha’s cooking is lovely, but you regret to admit the food is gone before you’ve even tasted it, the crumbs cleaned from the plate with careful fingers, the tea drank in great desperate sips and embarrassingly loud swallows.

You smile at the bottom of the mug now, counting the gold constellations dancing along it. There are dozens of little stars stretching across the inky blue, the gold paint twinkling gleefully as you tilt it this way and that. How did someone paint so many so neatly? Did they have a stamp, maybe? A really long brush and a steady hand? When was the last time you painted?

You push the thought away, glancing up at Elisha. She’s on a new book now, eyes wide and focused.

“Who’s the man next door?”

She jumps a little, eyes a bit wild as they focus on you again. “Hm? Oh.” She laughs. “He scare ya? Don’t worry, George is harmless. Just not a morning person. Runs in the family, I guess.” She holds her palm over her mouth to cover a big yawn.

You giggle, and she raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, guess I didn’t see the resemblance.”

She laughs. “What, the eyebrows weren’t a dead giveaway?”

“Everyone here has the same eyebrows.”

She snorts, slapping her palm over her mouth with wide eyes before you both burst out laughing. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that,” she wheezes between laughs.

“It’s true, though!”

She rubs her eyes, shaking her head with a grin still plastered across her face. “Oh, dear me. You met Martin yet?”

“No.”

“Now there’s a set of eyebrows.”

You quickly lose track of time as the pair of you sit there, her happily describing in detail all the people on the island. And, of course, their eyebrows. The ferryman is Francis (the alliteration makes you smile). He doesn’t live here, but everyone knows him anyway. You learn her brother’s name is John, but that was their father’s name, so everyone calls him Jack. He doesn’t talk much in the mornings, but he sings in the town bar some nights. The man at the general store you met yesterday is Ed. He’s ‘a grouchy old eyesore,’ apparently. But Elisha had smiled as she said it.

Eventually she trails off, her eyes shifting to the window. “It’s probably time you headed back.”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion before you realize she’s right. The fire is long dead, and the candles flickered out hours ago. Without their light, it’s easy to see the grey outdoors steadily fading to black once again.

Elisha walks you out the door, hovering on her porch. “You come back here if you need anything, you understand?”

You nod dutifully. “Of course.”

“Oh! Almost left without this.” She fishes the pen out of her pocket, stuffing it into your hands.

“Right, yeah. And…Elisha, thank you…for today.” You gesture vaguely, not sure what else to say, but she only smiles softly, giving you one last nod.

You start down the steps and pause, eyes settling on her brother’s porch. He sits in his rickety old chair, eyes fixed on the distance. Smoking a cigarette.

“Um, Elisha?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Could you tell your brother to be careful when he smokes? I think the wind blew some of it my way this morning, and my lungs can’t really take that.”

She stares at you for a long moment, head tilting slightly. “There wasn’t any wind this morning, dear.”

“Oh.” You swallow, shaking your head. “Never…mind.”

With one last look back at her brother, you head home.

Something feels…off. Your heartbeat picked up as soon as you entered the driveway, and now the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

Your hand hovers over the doorknob, trembling slightly.

You glance back.

Nothing. A little bird hops across the lawn. It freezes, shaking slightly as it looks at you, before flying away with a squawk.

Your hand tightens around the handle, wrist turning very carefully, opening the door.

A bellowing howl echoes across the marsh.

You leap through the door, slamming it behind you. Your hands shake as they grab at the lock, slipping and sliding off it before it finally clicks into place and you back away, stumbling and barely catching yourself.

You rush over to your bag, flinging it to the side as you throw the closet open, fingers curling tightly around the old bat. You flick it upwards, relishing in its comforting weight as you clutch it to your chest.

THUNK.

You leap backwards as something heavy crashes against your bedroom window.

Did the house shake, too? Or was that your imagination?

Did the curtains quiver just now? Or was that you?

A tiny croak sounds through the window, and you gasp, taking a step closer. Another strangled sound breaks the silence, garbled and unintelligible. Your eyes narrow as you press your ears against the wall, the little sounds continuing.

Carefully you pick your way to the door, the bat resting over one shoulder. You open it just a crack, poking your head out. Nothing. You slide out of it sideways, crouching low as you work your way around the house, eyes fixating on every shadow lengthening and waving in the rapidly dimming light.

You turn, the corner, raising up the bat.

A raven lays twitching on the ground below the window.

Your shoulders slouch, letting the weapon drag along the ground. Slowly, you approach the struggling bird, taking in its pitifully flapping wings as it lays on its back, legs kicking uselessly upwards.

“Oh, you poor thing.”

Gingerly you kneel in front of it, laying the bat aside as you gather it into your arms.

A hulking black shadow gallops across the yard, disappearing into the thick bushes with a crash.

You snatch the bat and sprint inside.

The bird doesn’t seem hurt. Its wings stretch and bend fine as they flap weakly against you, and its legs are shaky but not broken. Only its eyes betray it, flickering wildly around as frantic pants shake its entire body. You cradle its limp head, quietly shushing its cries as you hold a glass of water against its beak. It shudders, throwing its head back before swallowing. Gradually its head tilts, and it stretches its neck forward again for another long drink.

“There you go, that’s it,” you soothe, laying it on the floor with the water as you pull down a blanket, tucking it around the bird. It shudders, fluffing up its feathers before settling in, tucking its head under a wing.

You can’t help but smile at that.

With one last glance at the window, you climb into bed, bat still in hand, and try to sleep.

A raucous squawk yanks you from consciousness, followed by a crash.

“What the…oh, no.”

You leap out of bed, dashing into the kitchen to find the raven dragging a shiny pan across the floor.

“Hey, nonono, not yours.”

It squawks belligerently, hopping backwards with a glare.

You sigh, shaking your head. “Fine, then.” You pick your way around the disgruntled bird so you can pull out the can of tomatoes. “Trade?”

The bird tilts its head expectantly, letting the pan’s handle fall to the floor with a twang. You nod and fish out a tomato, dropping to a crouch to proffer it. The little devil eagerly hops forwards, snatching the food from your grasp and ripping it to pieces, spreading tomato guts all over your floor before happily taking a couple more from you.

You straighten again, regarding the bird with a discerning look. “Yeah, I think you’ll be just fine, buddy.”

You slide the jar back onto the counter and open the door with a sweeping gesture, smiling as the bird croaks joyfully, catapulting itself through the doorway and whirling in the air. You skip around the house after it, watching it whirl higher and higher before diving down into the trees and brush of the swamp.

Maybe being here won’t be so bad, after all.

But as you turn to head back inside, your entire body stiffens.

Carved into the dirt beneath your bedroom window…is a single massive footprint.

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[poeticjustice1010]

Haunted by secrets Chapter 3

𖣗𖦆⊹🕷 Haunted by secrets

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Summary: A girl influenced by her best friend to explore an abandoned house with an unexpected outcome.

Word Count

Warning

Minors Dni

Smut, Ghost, death, some dubcon, and angst.

Tag if you want to be tagged

Haunted by secrets

Characters - Hyunjin x oc, Lara Raj, Fatou, Seulgi.

Summary - A girl influenced by her best friend to explore an abandoned house with an unexpected outcome.

Warnings - Fluff, Smut, Angst,etc.

“We need to tell them,” Seulgi’s voice trembles as fell from her cheeks. Her fear truly showed. a sharp contrast to the defiant resolve in Fatou’s expression.

“We need solid proof,” Fatou stated her voice steady with slight urgency.

I glance between the two of them, feeling the weight of the situation on my shoulders. The tension was strong. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “We need to approach this carefully and gather more evidence,” I say, trying to stay confident.

The girls exchange a look before nodding in agreement. The unspoken understanding that we’re all in this together bolsters our resolve.

“Perhaps there are more journals, letters, and paintings around the house,” Lara suggests, her voice barely above a whisper as she glances around the room.

Fatou nods, her eyes scanning the walls as if expecting the secrets to reveal themselves.

We split up, each of us taking a different part of the house, determined to uncover the truth. The house groans under our footsteps, the old wooden floors creaking as we move from room to room. Every roomed showed something different.

I find myself drawn to a bedroom, the door creaking open with a low, mournful groan. The room is musty, the air thick with the scent of dust and time.

As I step further into the room, my eyes are drawn to a large painting hanging on the wall. The portrait was of woman who looked familiar. My heart skipped a beat as I realized it was a painting of me—or at least someone who looked almost exactly like me. It looked and felt so uncanny. down to the curve of the lips and the slight tilt of the head.

I move closer, my fingers trembling as I reach out to touch the surface of the canvas. The signature at the bottom catches my eye—“Hyunjin,” scrawled in elegant cursive. My breath gets caught in my throat.

Something feels off. I carefully lift the painting from the wall, revealing a small alcove behind it. My breath hitches as I see a stack of letters, photographs, and sketches hidden behind the painting. They fell to the floor, and I quickly kneeled to gather them up, my hands shaking with anticipation.

I pick up one of the letters and begin to read, the words blurring as tears well up in my eyes. “I love my friends, but something feels off about them. Maybe I’m just paranoid,” Hyunjin’s handwriting is neat, yet there’s a hint of uncertainty in his words. My heart aches as I realize that even in his last days, he suspected something was wrong but dismissed it as paranoia.

Now here we are in this mess just because of his jealous friends.

“Why would they do this?” I whisper to myself, my voice barely making a sound.

A sudden chill sweeps through the room, the air thickening as if a breeze of wind swooped in. My skin prickles with goosebumps as the temperature drops. I feel his presence before I see him.

“They have to pay,” Hyunjin’s voice echoes in the room, filled with a cold, simmering rage. I turn to see him standing there, his eyes burning with fury, his once gentle expression now twisted with anger. He looks almost solid, more real than I’ve ever seen him before as if his anger is giving him strength.

“They took my whole life away from me,” he hisses, stepping closer. His voice is low and dangerous, each word laced with anger of betrayal. His gaze locks onto mine, and I can see the bitterness in his eyes as the years of suffering begin to show

Fear entered my heart. “Hyunjin, please,” I beg, my voice shaked as I backed up. bumping into the wall behind me. “You don’t have to do this.”

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, I see a flicker of the man he used to be, the man who loved his friends who cherished their bond. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a cold and angry substitute. “Genesis, I’m limited to this house,” he says, his voice softening for a moment, but the threat lingers.

“What are you suggesting?” I ask, though I already know the answer. My voice trembles with the weight of the realization.

“Your friends have to pay for what their parents have done,” he replies, his tone deadly calm. Each word felt like I was being stabbed hundreds of times.

Tears entered my eyes, and my hands began to shake. The implications of his words sink in like a stone. “No, Hyunjin, please… they’re innocent, they didn’t—”

“You’re right, Genesis,” he interrupts, his voice dripping with venom. “It’s not their fault… It's their parents.” His eyes were filled with rage, and the door behind me slammed shut with a deafening bang. My heart pounding in my chest as I realize I’m trapped In the bedroom.

……

…….

A/N " Thank you for reading. Please repost, like and please comment! Your love and support keeps me going!"

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