#simply because the idea of existing in his presence makes my skin crawl

[rose-tinted-nostalgia]

me at 9:32 PM: I’d rather be tossed into a shredder, every moment I’ve ever lived an illegible pile of lines on the floor, than to ever be read by a man like him again.  me at 9:34 PM:  dark chocolate chips complete me. 

[siremasterlawrence]

The Handler’s Red Carpet Express Part 7 & 8

Casting for a new buddy cop Apple Plus TV show called Ghost Spy’s sitting in the major casting room at television studio want I am expecting is so much better Chris Pine and Chris Messina in the waiting the room.I flip on the camera setting up the room all is perfectly set up as I call Chris into the room for the time being as he enters my cock is coming to life springing forward under the desk.

Quite a unique looking face he has I must admit to myself but still fucking handsome and he is about to me be mine I state all to myself very hyper excited at his newest role in cinema.The lights flicker on lowly as he sits down the door slamming closed he slates for the camera then we begin to read lines as the circular light system around the camera turns on burning brightly it edges deep into his mind.

Everything comes to a slow stuttering crawl as he stumbles over his words his eyes grow heavy, his mind is in a deep sea of hazy fog and I watch him falling ever deeper into my power.He has no idea what is happening nor cane he even attempt to resist if he wanted to simply because I will him to be at my mercy for life and he is fully committed to serve me for life.

Pine has no more ideas left in the pretty boi face of his except to stare mindlessly with a stupefied look on his the spit trickling down his chin soon he is all that ever existed in his mind.I am the center of his life now as he builds so many monuments of me in his head one at a time he falls for me a expression of love over comes him and he soon is everything I ever want.

Getting up I push my chair back to rise to my feet as I stood up staring him down in a hot, heavy and lustful display of pleasure launched me over the table on to his lap and we make out. His hands rove throughout my body touching every part of his body in a scandalous wave of energy overcomes us both in a shill of power his lips touch my skin all hot and bothered.

“Mr. Messina please come in.” I say exiting the room as he smirks walking in.

“Please sit.” I instruct not even looking at him.

“Please focus on the camera.” I state

“May I start?”

“Yes commence”

“Oh wait! Must the lights be so strong”

“I can’t think”

“I am confused “

“Why am I here?”

“Hahaha”

“What’s so funny?”

“You are hilarious “

“Wait what?”

“Continue to take a gander “

“You will admit it”

“You own me”

“Mmmm”

“You love the sound of my voice “

“You are rock hard”

“Mmmmnnnn”

“Fuck…you own me”

Grant Gustin is up for a second pilot go a up and coming new show I have commissioned for Amazon where he would play a hot shot attorney having a torrid affair with a young male assistant attorney. The studio is awash in a bright gold lights of the entire room showcasing everything as he walks in with such power, confident and presence to control the situation he is so instantly struck.

The moment he saw it his world spun intoa fit of crazy babble in a world wind of air to his lungs he takes a deep breath inhalinga sweet intoxicating taste like he has never smelt before. His body is hot falling backwards onto his back his mind melts away at everything he has ever felt loosing himself in a pure unsafe feeling of love and desire for me and only me.

“Grant please slate”

“I am Grant Gustin”

“Good boi”

“Please read this “

“I am here to submit and obey “

“I submit “

“I succumb to your will”

“I am at your mercy “

“Do as you wish and please “

“Ravish me in your will”

“That’s it truly feel it”

“You are intoxicated with love”

“I am obsessed “

“Intoxicated “

“Oh God! You make rock hard”

“How do you feel about me?l

“I love you “

“Absolutely correct “

“What do you expect Charlie Hunnam? Come in now.” I say swinging the door open in excitement because I know he is loves it madly in love with me soon enough he will follow me like Grant. “Please slate for me Charlie.” I command him as he sits down he stares down with a smile he sits up flipping his hair up with a cute wink and he says his name in a sexy, heavy and gruff.

“My name is Charlie Hunnam”

“Good boi”

“I ain’t a boi ”

“Yes you are”

“I don’t have to stand for this”

“Sit down”

“Baby”

“Cut it out “

“I love you “

“Get off me”

“Stare in to the light “

“Give in”

“I can’t stop “

“Why can’t I think?”

“I can’t move”

“Spread your legs”

“Take off your pants”

“Rise up “

“Remove your clothes”

Chris Wood and Jessie Metcalf waltz into the auditorium for the audition but soon the power of the lights, the heat of night and so much more consume them they are lost to my power as well.

The end

[aetheternity]

To tame a brat (Tighnari x reader)

A/N: Hello and welcome back to Callum needing bottom Nari. I have no idea if the world of Teyvat is progressive enough that cock rings even exist but I want so badly to write bratty bottom Nari wearing a cock ring so we're going to pretend this world has it or maybe that it was newly invented. This is basically just what I wrote for the second part of, I'm not stopping but like longer and in a different scenario. Consider this my little gift for kinktober. This is a repost!

Disclaimer: This is AFAB brat tamer reader x bottom Tighnari, This is for the adults only MDNI, this work has: Reader being called mistress, choking, a bit of degradation towards Tighnari. Proceed at your own risk.

Tighnari's breath escaped him. Once, twice as he laid below you. Pupils dilating in the peaks of moonlight filtering in between the half closed curtains. The tips of his ears dwindled and hung, tail near frantic as it swung while you continued to restrict his oxygen. Pleased by the tint of red filling his face.

"Why do you insist on making everything so difficult, Nari? You'd think with ears that big you'd know how to listen." Your grip loosens and it's enough for Tighnari to gag, choking down enough air to fill his once deprived lungs.

"You felt so good, Mistress." He panted "I simply couldn't contain myself."

You sigh with a soft roll of your eyes. When you lean closer you catch the smallest glimpse of a shiver crawling up his spine. "Hope it was worth it because now I have to punish you."

His recent orgasm pools down your inner thigh as you swing your leg over to climb off the bed. It only takes you about a minute but when you emerge from Tighnari's dresser it's with the cock ring you'd purchased only about a week ago (a ring Nari claims he despises but makes you use on him constantly.) and some slightly worn out rope.

"W-wait.. the ring.." He quickly scampers, inching towards the headboard. "I haven't been that bad please.."

You first wrap the rope around his wrists tightening the bind before knotting the other end around a part of the headboard. When you reach for the cock ring however Tighnari instinctively curls his tail over his lap pulling his legs up with it.

"Is that how you wanna play it?" You tsk "If you want to cum again at any point tonight I suggest you start behaving, Nari."

His breaths fall uneven, "Please.. wait, I don't need the cock ring." He shifts his hips away from your hands. "I really won't cum again until you allow me, Mistress."

You hook your arm beneath his thigh brushing his tail off. "Stop fidgeting." You huff "I'm not going to warn you again." The cock ring slips carefully into place earning a gentle gasp from Tighnari. With it nice and snug against the base of his cock, you slide back to your place between his thighs. Nearly rolling your eyes at the slick heat that instantly floods your stomach. His cock head soon buried to the hilt within your overly sensitive walls. "Maybe if you make me cum like a good boy I'll let you orgasm."

His wrists tug at the restraints over the first easy grind of your hips. A whimper of your name quickly following the ever so teasing grind of you atop him.

"Mistress, I want to hold your waist.." His legs tremble, buckling beneath you. I need.. need to touch you.." He groaned

"Earn it." You lean in, far enough for your breath to make his ears twitch. "Show me what a sorry boy you can be."

The fur of his tail glides so smoothly between your fingers as you hold it down with minimal pressure. Noting the way it tensed and squirmed beneath your hold as you arched your back to take him as deep as possible. A sigh of pure pleasure flowing so easily off your lips. That familiar sensation slowly making its presence known in the deepest pit of your core.

Your hands soon find new purchase in the center of Tighnari's chest spreading your legs further apart to get him really riled up beneath you. The slaps of your skin meeting so abruptly it causes your head to spin. Your index finger sliding up to flick one of his pinkened nipples. He can't even begin to hold back his moans at this point, a cacophony of misplaced syllables flying off his lips. You can't hide your smile.

"M-Mistress.." A smile, followed swiftly by a grunt from the depths of his throat. "Mistress.. I can feel it.. I'm so close.." Another moan followed by an array of curses. His breath catches as you slip a hand around his throat.

"Nearly there Nari." Your own breath catches as his hips start to buck, matching yours. Your body shudders deeply and you tense perfectly around his too sensitive cock. "I'm gonna cum.."

The sensation of your walls contracting has Tighnari buckling from the pressure. His back arching, begging for even the smallest bit of that orgasm he couldn't quite reach. A loud unmasked huff falling off his lips as your high slowly washed off of you. Pooling between the place where you're both joined. Within a couple seconds you've got a steady pace going once again. Tighnari's ears flexing as he whimpers in need.

"Mistress.."

"Stop begging already.. you know exactly what I want.."

The headboard bangs with Tighnari's unexpected tugging, each movement of his hips growing more and more sloppy.

"I.. shouldn't have cum.. without permission." His voice breaks, echoing nicely off the walls.

"Keep going sweetie.."

"I want to hold you.. please.. I want to breed you and.. hold you please allow me.."

"Now was that so hard?" You slip a finger beneath the rope. Loosening the restraint with one hand. His wrists instantly fall from the loose ties, curving up your back before retreating to your ass. His tail quickly following wrapping as snuggly as it could around your bare waist.

Each rut of your hips snags a new ragged sound from Tighnari's raspy throat. His eyes curving to the skies every time the tip of his cock brushes your cervix. Your hand slides behind his head to scratch at that all too familiar spot. That spot that makes him come completely undone. Your favorite words spill off his lips, barely strung together as he begged you to cum. The bed creaking awkwardly amongst his rowdy uneven thrusts.

You release his cock just enough to tug the cock ring off of him. Humming softly at the pleasured sigh of relief he couldn't contain. The dig of his nails was instantly intense the moment you slid all the way back down. Bottoming out long enough to inhale. Barely able to exhale as he thrusts into you full force without even the smallest word of warning.

"Nari.. ask, sweetie."

"Mistress.. let me cum please.. I've been a good boy.. right?"

Your smirk is hard to contain, "Cum for me."

The drawn out syllables of the word fuck are nearly drowned out. Barely registering over the swift clap of his hips and complaints from the rocking bed. His raucous calls for his mistress far above the rest. Overwhelmed by the pleasure deep within your core, you shudder and shake above him. Your thighs clasping so tightly around him. Eyes curling back so hard you feel as though they've poked your brain. His own shudder beneath you not quelling until he's finished pumping you full of cum.

Whimpers and gasps all slowly quieting as he clung to you. Requesting every ounce of your warmth with both arms draping around your torso. Those pretty cheeks of his flooded red with color. Breaths so soft and inaudible as he stares up at you with pure awe. You lean in, lips pecking the bridge of his nose. You can already see the lull of sleep starting to overtake him. So you join in. Laying your fatigue on top of his, his heartbeat still so reckless where it hammers his ribcage.

You wrench enough energy up to kiss his chin, and damp neck. The warmth of it all so soothing you don't even recognize you've already drifted off.

[yoonia]

✎ Under The Willow Tree: Blood Moon Rising - an excerpt

✎ Feat. Jimin x reader

“I have something to show you,” Jimin adds, pulling your attention back to him. Curious to know what he is planning to do, you simply let him take you away and follow silently as he makes his way towards a deeper part of the woods just a short walk away. He keeps walking until you reach the area where the trees part ways, opening up to a small plane with patches of green grass that opens up to the darkening sky.

The open plane seems secluded, just like the lake that Jimin had brought you to the other night, and it seems peaceful in its solitude. Yet what catches your attention is not the clear plain itself, as your eyes had caught the sight of what is standing at the center, stealing your breath away at its presence.

A giant weeping willow tree emerges at the heart of the opening. It might be due to its age, or perhaps some sort of magic has come past this place the way it did with the Cursed Forest, because the willow tree seems completely unlike most that you have known or ever seen before.

Standing tall to the point that it nearly pierces the sky from the angle you are standing at, the branches spread wide and tall, before arching back down and forming a wide canopy around its center, bringing down a thick layer of leaves falling all the way to the ground like a curtain which hides the area beneath from the world outside.

The tree itself is massive, its trunk almost as thick as a small shed in its width. The bark is rough and ridged, looking similar to old skin in the dark that you almost believe you can see it breathing. Around the tree, you can see thick, massive roots protruding above ground. On one side, you see them rising up from the ground and building up around a flat boulder, coincidently forming a natural altar or a stone bed. For some reason, you just know that the same stone bed has caught Jimin’s attention even before he starts guiding you towards it. Right before you reach that very spot, Jimin stops and turns you around just to hold you in his arms, and the thrums of your heartbeat pick up under his touch.

“What was that, little mate?” he teases you with his lips still ghosting around your breasts. You have to hold yourself from arching your back to press your chest to his face when you begin to beg him,

“Please, Jimin. Make love to me. I need you.”

Your words seem to please him as he releases a soft chuckle. “Your wish is my command, my sweet mate. Anything to make you feel good and forget about the things happening around us. Even if for a moment.”

Taking a sharp intake of breath, you realise just how much you would love to have what he is offering—to have the reprieve that would help you forget about all the problems and everything that has been going on. To forget that both of your worlds are falling apart. All you need to focus on is the moment you have with him, right now, the blissful present that exists only under this willow tree where the world outside seems more like a distant dream.

“Turn around, love. I want to fuck you as if we’re celebrating our mating under the full moon,” Jimin whispers to you with his lips ghosting against your earlobe and his fingers rubbing gently on your wrists, while the filthy idea that he implants into your head draws a gasp out of you.

Your legs are still shaking as you push yourself up, trying to turn so you can get on your knees with your own effort, but Jimin is quick to grab you, flipping your body around so quickly that gravity seems to tilt with you, and the only thing holding you up from falling is the tight hold of his hands on your hips.

With your ass pointing up high, he cups and strokes your rear cheeks with his palms before moving his hands up your curves. He takes his time, worshipping you with his touch. He is silent as he trails his fingers along your spine, gentle touch dancing over the soft skin until you shiver. Crawling closer behind you, he bends down to kiss the soft skin of your back while he slides his hands up your torso, cupping your breasts, and rubbing your sensitive nipples between his fingers. Each touch draws a low moan coming out of your lips, then the sound gets dragged out of you longer when he slips one hand between your legs, finding your pussy which is still throbbing wildly from your initial orgasms that you have barely recovered from.

✎ Find the completed version of ‘Under The Willow Tree’, an explicit scene taken from Blood Moon Rising P.17, on my Patreon account: tomoediawriting

Find the full story on the 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Get to know more about the world and the story setting through the 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐩

Get to know the characters through 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 & 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

— © 2022 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

[taetaespeaches]

“Wait, what did you just ask me?”

taehyung x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 2.2K

a/n: Hi lovelies!!! Remember, we are not going to talk about how self-indulgent this is, ok? Ok. Tae and Peaches y’all... they’re my babies, what can I say? I hope you all enjoy, and thanks so much for reading! :)) 

As you studied the brushstrokes you had placed upon the canvas, Taehyung was lying on the floor in front of you, wearing a smile, his eyes on you. Sitting cross-legged a couple feet away from him, you looked overtop the painting, sneaking a glance at the man. Your lips curved up as you caught him staring, your gaze quickly returning to the work in progress.

“How is it looking?” He asked you, his voice low, coated in affection as he expressed his fond curiosity.

Cocking your head to the side, you scrunched your nose in disapproval. “You’re prettier in real life,” you smiled, Taehyung ducking his head as his grin widened. Licking his lips, appearing shy, he looked back to you. Sitting back, resting on your hands as your arms supported you, you watched Taehyung carefully. “I’m not sure I’ll ever properly capture your beauty, Dearest.”

“Let me see,” he told you gently, propping himself up on his elbow, resting his cheek on his palm. Giving him a skeptical look, he chuckled lowly. “What’s that look?”

Without answering him, you turned the easel around so he could see the painting. As he stared at your work, you watched him closely, noticing how the smile slowly morphed into a considerate inspection, his face relaxing as his gentle eyes scanned the strokes and colors. When his adoring gaze returned to you, you grinned, Taehyung simply staring at you for a moment, his orbs somehow intense and gentle all at once.

“It’s the most beautiful one yet,” he finally spoke, you sighing as he smiled knowingly.

“You say that every time,” you whined, “that’s why I was hesitant to show you.”

“What’s wrong with saying that? It’s the truth,” he defended through his amused smile.

“You’re just in love with me and everything I do,” you complained mockingly, Taehyung moving his arm out from under his head so he could drop his head to the floor in laughter.

“Of course I am,” he confirmed dramatically before rolling onto his back and turning his head toward you to catch you smiling fondly at him. “But you really do get better with every painting,” he continued. “Every new piece you do is my new favorite.”

Leaning forward, you placed your slightly paint covered hand on the floor of his art studio and slid it toward him, Taehyung quickly bringing his hand forward to clasp overtop yours. “Thank you,” you whispered shyly.

“Remember when you wouldn’t even attempt to paint because you didn’t think you could do it?” He asked you with a smile that matched yours as he intertwined your fingers. Nodding at him, he shook his head at the thought. “So silly. Now look at you,” he nodded to your freshly painted portrait of the man you loved. “You’re incredible.”

“Well, you inspire me,” you pointed out, the man shaking his head as if he was negating your comment, his fingers toying with yours. “No, you do,” you nodded, your tone seeping with sincerity. “In so many ways.”

The both of you stared at each other for a moment before the man sat up on his knees and crawled toward you, your smile growing bigger and bigger the closer he got. Appearing in front of your face, he easily swooped in and stole a kiss, your painted hands grabbing the sides of his face to hold him there as you deepened the action.

“I’m in love with you and everything you do too,” you suddenly mumbled against his mouth, making the man chuckle. “For the record.”

“I know,” he nodded, pressing his soft lips to yours once more, giving you a sweet peck. “Do you want to go for a drive, Peaches?” He asked, you letting out a single breathy laugh.

“Are you driving?” You asked teasingly, Taehyung giggling as he kissed your cheek a few times quickly before nodding, his fluffy hair brushing against your face. “Sure,” you added simply.

Taehyung drove you out of the city to one of his secret spots, the drive relatively quiet as you both simply enjoyed the presence of one another, you turning on old playlists as you relived the memories the songs evoked. There was little traffic at 11 pm on a Thursday night, only a few headlights shining into the car and illuminating your boyfriend’s face every now and then.

During the drive, you admired the way his fingers tapped against the steering wheel to the beat of the music as he lowly sang the songs. Resting your hand on his shoulder, you occasionally toyed with the strands of hair that hung against his neck, tickling his skin and making the man squirm and giggle boyishly.

When he pulled off the road and parked the car, he turned to face you, meeting your smirk. “Wanna get out?” He asked, you nodding as you undid your seatbelt. The man was always prepared for a spontaneous outing, spreading the blanket that he kept in his backseat out across the hood of the car. Within a few moments, you were cuddled up against each other on the hood as you stared up at the sky, appreciating the night time air.

“Do you have your phone?” He asked suddenly, you looking up from his chest to see his features, his eyes on you. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the device, handing it over to him. A few seconds passed by before music started filling the atmosphere, your recognition of the song making you sit up to shoot your boyfriend a look of surprise.

“Is this the playlist?” You asked him, the man smiling fondly. The song was Make Out in My Car, giving away that he had turned on the first playlist he had ever made you since you started seeing each other romantically. The playlist he made you to confess his love for you in the diner you were well acquainted with. “You’re so soft tonight,” you giggled, Taehyung wrapping his arm around you to pull you back down against his frame.

Burying your face in his neck, you kissed his skin softly, the man swallowing as if he was nervous, his adam’s apple bobbing against your lips. However, your own growing nerves made it difficult for you to pay as much attention to his apparent edginess as you normally would.

Because for a few weeks, you had been thinking a lot about your relationship with Taehyung, and your future with the man. There was no doubt between the both of you, and really anyone who came into contact with you both, that you two were devoted to each other. Spending your lives together had been the hope and intention for as long as you’d known the man. Though the terms of the relationship had changed throughout the years, your commitment to each other as friends, and eventually as lovers, was always there.  

And although you never gave marriage much consideration, never really concerning yourself with the tradition and idea behind it, Tae had always wanted marriage for as long as you’d known him. And you wanted to commit yourself to your love for him, the love that existed between the two of you, in the sincerest way you could think of. You didn’t start the night with the intention of asking him the question, but it felt right in the moment. It was time.

Mustering up your courage as Bruno Major’s Easily played into the atmosphere, you kissed his neck one more time before letting out a slow exhale. “Hey, Tae?” You called for his attention quietly, the man tucking his chin into his neck to look down at you. Humming in response to you, you pulled away from him just slightly so you could look at him properly. “I want to preface this by assuring you that I’m not asking you this just for you, but because I’ve been thinking a lot and, I realized I want this too. With you,” you slightly rambled, the man chuckling nervously as he stared at you in confusion.

“What are you on about, Peaches?” He asked, his eyes searching your face, bouncing from feature to feature, as if he studied you enough, he would figure it out for himself.

“Ok, I can see your nervous, and you shouldn’t be,” you smiled, a small chuckle slipping from your lips.

“But you look nervous,” he giggled, his hand finding your waist as he gave you a comforting squeeze. “That makes me nervous.”

“I don’t know how to do this, I’ve been thinking about it for like a month now and I just realized I have no idea what to say,” you mostly spoke to yourself as Taehyung watching you curiously, appearing intrigued and enamored by your vocal thought process.

“Just say it then,” he told you, trying to calm you.

“Just say it?” You repeated, the man nodding. “I feel like it needs some flare though, like-”

“Peaches,” he said slightly sternly as his anxiousness grew, though he wore a small smile. “Just say it, baby.”

“Will you marry me?” You blurted out, his face completely unaffected as you stared at him with wide frightened eyes. “I mean-”

“Wait, what did you just ask me?” He suddenly realized, his eyes popping wide open as he sat up a bit.

“Uh,” you held back a laugh as you watched his features display the way his mind slowly comprehended the words that just entered his ears. “Will you marry me?” You asked again, this time more collected. “I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone, and I still don’t totally understand marriage and like what the point of it is but I know I want to be married to you,” you explained to him, your gaze set on his as he stared at you, nearly unblinking.

“You do?” He questioned, shocked by your sudden confession though his boxy smile finally beamed at you as a shy giggle slipped from his lips.

“I do,” you assured him fondly. “Because it’s you. It just feels right.”

Without another word, your boyfriend was sliding off the hood of the car, leaving you behind as he swung the driver side car door open.

“Tae?” You called out to him, your mind full of confusion, but also amusement. “Tae! What the hell are you doing?” You watched through the windshield as he lunged across the console and flung the glove box open. “You know, if you want to say no, you can just say no,” you joked. “You don’t have to make a break for it while I’m still on the hood of the car,” you giggled teasingly, though your nerves were definitely rising by the second, not because you actually thought he’d say no but rather simply the element of the unknown.  

Tossing the manual onto the seat, he grabbed something and within another moment, he was back outside, holding his hands out in front of him towards you. Your gaze bounced around his face for a moment before your orbs traveled to the item he held between his fingers.

“What the fuck is that?” You asked in shock, your eyes set on the open ring box displaying the most stunning ring you’d ever seen. “Holy shit, Tae.”

“I’ve had this for a few months,” he admitted, your eyes immediately flickering to his face in surprise. “I didn’t want you to marry me just because I want it,” he explained with a small smile. “I wanted you to want it too and so, I just never asked,” he shrugged as you covered your mouth with your hands. “I know we’re spending our lives together with or without this ring or a document.”

“Kim Taehyung,” you muttered into your hands with a small laugh.

“I never expected you to propose to me though,” he chuckled fondly.

“Well I did,” you pointed out, the man nodding as he dropped his head to the side in laughter.

“You did,” he agreed just as you began sliding across the hood toward him. When you reached him, you swung your legs off the edge, opening them so Taehyung could slot himself between them. Leaned toward you, he pushed his forehead against yours as he sighed in content, his breath fanning across your lips.

“You never answered my proposal,” you teased him, Taehyung scoffing in your face as his free hand settled on your cheek. Pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, you scrunched it in response.

“Was the ring not a good enough answer?” He questioned jokingly, you humming in thought.

“Maybe you want your own ring,” you pondered with a smirk, Taehyung’s boxy grin growing as he shook his fringe in your face slightly to tickle you.

“Yes, I will marry you,” he assured you, making you giggle just as he kissed your lips softly. “That is, if you’ll marry me,” he added, mumbling against your mouth.

“I will marry you,” you told him easily, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as you deepened the kiss, the playlist still humming in the background.

As you both got caught up in each other, as you always did, the ring box ended up closed and discarded on the hood of the car, the token of his love and your commitment not making it to your finger until a bit later that night. After all, you weren’t in it for a ring, or a label, or a document. It was him. It always had been Taehyung. And it would be him forever.

[katnissmellarkkk]

I *DEMAND* part 3 of shattered pearl. I repeat. I *DEMAND*.

Hahahahaha omg. Well, I decided to legitimately dig through the archives of my writing drafts and found chapter three of the Peeta-Wasn’t-Hijacked fic. It’s been given like 1,000 different names on different sites. I’ve never loved any of them. And I don’t really think this is my best writing ngl. But I also figure ... why be so stingy, ya know? If I have an incomplete draft, that I probably won’t finish, why not post a little bit? Especially since I literally left everyone and their brother who were reading this fic on a cliffy for over a year.

With that said.... I wrote this part like ... 15 months ago? 14 ? 13 ? Something like that. And I haven’t edited it since so ... yeah! Here’s a small chunk of chapter three! 🥳🥳🥳 Hope it’s better than I remember it being!

But it’s lacking something and it’s only then I realize, what I’m searching for inside Gale’s mouth, is the spark that only Peeta’s ever ignited in me. I keep waiting in vain for the warmth that started in my stomach and then rose up and exploded in my chest, for the craving that no matter what I couldn’t manage to satisfy, for the thrilling, almost hysterical, tingly feeling, to overcome me and leave me lightheaded in a completely foreign way. A way that couldn’t be attributed to lack of oxygen.

But it never does. I pull back and wipe my mouth carelessly on my arm and sigh, already sensing Gale’s demeanor taking a nose dive at my lackluster reaction.

I’m not disappointed when I look to see his expression. His eyes are frustrated, his mouth is downturned, his eyebrows are pinched together. And I feel as bad as I knew I would. Because no matter what, I’m hurting someone I deeply care for.

But how I feel upon seeing Gale’s face isn’t even comparable to the amount of remorse that fills me, that overtakes my entire being, when I see Peeta standing in the doorway, having watched our entire exchange.

/

I yelled his name as he disappeared down the hall. I tried to rip out all the needles and wires connecting me to the machines and the stiff, sterilized bed but Gale used all his strength to push me down flat. I was overpowered and exhausted and my left side was screaming mercilessly, and I don’t even know what pain was the bruised lung and what pain was my hurt ribs and what pain was my heart violently smashing into the pit of my stomach.

All I know is that if I had been able to reach Peeta before he evaporated, I have no clue what I would have said to him.

What I could have said to make it alright.

Gale tried to talk to me again after that but I entirely tuned him out, no longer caring if I wounded his feelings, or anyone else's for that matter.

It seems like no matter what I do, no matter how careful or cautious or preemptive I try to be, someone still got hurt in the end.

I wish I could just shut out the world, like I did during those first few weeks in Thirteen. Hide inside closets when I had a flashback. Shove myself into a minuscule crawl space with every nightmare. Refuse to speak to anyone who wasn't Gale or my family. Only eat when my mother nearly forced me. Show no remorse for how rude or how clinically insane I came across.

But now there was an agreement in place, an agreement I made to protect the victors—namely the one who just disappeared down the hall on me—and the people who had no voice on their own. The people who’s only chance was a half-crazed, shell-shocked, battle worn seventeen year old girl, who was just gunned down on national television.

Even if I wanted to retreat to some safe haven inside my head—if such a thing even existed for me—like Annie Cresta, I knew it could never happen.

For me, that wasn’t an option. If I don’t fulfill my duties to Coin, Peeta, Johanna, Annie and probably countless more people will suffer. The districts would undoubtably suffer. Gale would suffer. My mother and Prim would suffer.

I was proven right when later that same night Plutarch came to visit me again. I'd been lying on my side to avoid having to see Gale, who was still soldered to my bedside. My good side was thankfully opposite his seat.

When the Gamemaker spoke I thought I would be forced back to work. Forced to head back to the rebels and engage in their plans.

And I was resigned to it, well aware all along that I wouldn't be given the luxury of time to grieve the hurt I just caused Peeta. Or even the pain I knew I was inflicting upon Gale. The constant seesaw my heart was bouncing up and down on.

I was endlessly thankful that I was still pumped with morphling when Plutarch said that I was needed in Coin's office, because it heavily suppressed any real emotion I had brewing deep inside.

Morphling can cause you to let down your guard sometimes, make you say or do things you wouldn't otherwise or allow things to happen you'd ordinarily have the sense to stop. But it also causes all your severe emotions, all your heightened feelings, to dull as well. And for that, in light of everything that had just transpired, I was eternally grateful for.

When the doctor had removed all the needles from my arm, and I had been given a robe to go over my hospital gown—which, shockingly, was even uglier and thinner and itchier than the gowns they gave in the Capitol hospitals—Gale escorts me down the halls, through the corridors and to President Coin’s office.

I don’t speak to him the entire time. Looking at him makes my stomach churn with remorse and regret, though I’m not even sure who those feelings are directed towards. I’m not even sure how to articulate the way I feel right now.

And, as much as I try to force him out of my mind—as much as I do my best to rip him out from wherever he crawled beneath my skin and flooded into my veins—I inexplicably miss Peeta.

In more ways than I even know how to decipher. Even inside my own head.

I thought that feeling of longing would have ebbed away once he was rescued from Snow and his twisted mansion, but even knowing he’s safe here in Thirteen, I still crave his presence next to me.

I still want him next to me almost all the time.

It’s at least partially attributable to the fact that for so long, it was me and Peeta against the world. He has been my partner in this whirlwind rollercoaster since the first games and, even when I feel like every single aspect that could potentially go wrong has, sometimes it seems like I couldn’t have gotten luckier with who was chosen that fateful reaping to stand by my side the entire horrific ride.

I wipe my eyes as inconspicuously as I can but Gale sees and almost instinctively puts his hand on my shoulder. And proves he knows me better than I give him credit for. “I’ll talk to him, Katniss.”

“Don’t,” I immediately hiss. “You’ll just make it worse, Gale. He-he,” I struggle with explaining what I want to say and I curse my best friend for even addressing my moment of weakness because now I have to go talk to Coin, looking like an unstable mess—with a near bullet wound—and I blurt out the very first thing I can think of. “He doesn’t even know you, okay? You’ll just-“

There’s no malice in Gale’s voice as he softly replies, “Well, he was fine when I went and saw him before you woke up.”

I stop now, dead in my tracks. “You saw him? After I was shot?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, I felt like should check on him. I know...” He pauses and looks upwards and I recognize, once again, this whole thing isn’t easy for him either. “I know he means a lot to you. And I heard what happened when he saw you go down. So I went and checked in on him...” He stops again before shrugging nonchalantly. “He was calmer by the time I saw him. He was nice. He’s always been nice.” At that Gale rolls his eyes. “Too nice. Probably why Snow wanted to hurt him.”

I start walking again, moving ahead of him a few paces. “You’re not helping,” I state, my voice a monotone.

“I’ll talk to him,” Gale offers again, running to catch up.

“Please don’t, okay? Just let it be. I don’t even know if he’ll speak to me, I don’t want to have to worry about what you’ll say to him.”

I vigorously shake off his hand on my shoulder when he tries to comfort me again, and feel him root into place as I make the rest of the way to Coin’s office.

And I wonder if I hurt him now too.

I wonder if I managed to completely annihilate them both from me in one night.

/

Much to my surprise and, to be completely honest, my utter disappointment, Coin doesn’t want me to head back out and fight for the rebellion. She doesn’t want me to even film more propos.

Plutarch does, but his ideas now are pretty frivolous and have more to do with him being still stuck in the fantasy of putting on a good show and less to do with fighting for the good of the country.

Coin simply says, “You did your job, Miss Everdeen. You united the districts,” in her calm, disingenuous—completely unsettling—tone.

And argument I put up is met with a simple shake of the head and a pursing of her lips. All indisputable rejections, her cold, blank eyes telling me wordlessly that in no way could I sway her once her mind was made up.

Still doesn’t stop me from trying though.

“I want to help the rebels,” I plead, looking to Boggs behind Coin’s chair, his face still stoic but his eyes giving me a look that isn’t altogether dismissive.

That was something. It was more than I was getting from either Coin or Plutarch.

Coin though brushes off my words and cuts me down infuriatingly quick with a single sentence. “Plutarch wanted to see Peeta earlier, talk about some propos. But when he sent for him, one of the doctors working with Peeta said he wasn’t having a good day.”

Her tone is smooth and pleasant enough but there was an undercurrent to her words that she knew I would hear. “Do you know how Peeta is? I would have thought with your waking up this morning, he’d be in better shape than he was but if you two aren’t getting-“

“Me and Peeta are fine,” I snap, not liking whatever she’s implying.

She nods, slowly at me, choosing her next sentiment carefully. “Well, let’s hope so. We need both of you now to remain the faces of this revolution. And I wouldn’t want you to do anything rash because of... problems between you and your... between you and Peeta.”

I’m shaking my head, feigning certainty, before she even finishes. “That’s not why I want to help the rebels,” I insist firmly.

“Irregardless, Miss Everdeen, we don’t have a job for you. You aren’t qualified to go into the fight and we no longer need your propos to unite the districts. Your job is done. Thank you for your help.”

And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I’m being definitively dismissed now. Indefinitely.

I don’t make any effort to keep my cool, instead choosing to storm out of the room, slamming the door cacophonously behind me and wonder why I let that woman get to me so much. Why her words and implications slice me open like a knife.

Why no matter how much I try, I just can’t like her.

Something about her rubs me the wrong way and, once again, I wish Peeta was here with me in the room, because he of all people could understand what about Coin felt off and strange and so familiar.

I curse myself again, as I suddenly miss him even more than before.

Unable to force myself to put my focus elsewhere—especially now that Gale is surely angry too—I change directions and head towards the recovery room.

I don’t even knock before entering. I push the door open, only to find him sitting on top of his bed, a sketchbook in hand, a lot more tranquil than I pictured.

He looks up as I enter—and then, simultaneously freeze in the doorway, like the coward I truly am inside. Before he can speak though, I blurt out, “I know you’re mad about me kissing Gale and I don’t know how much you saw or heard, but it wasn’t... it wasn’t exactly...” I stop because once again, I’m unprepared and out of my element and have no rhyme or reason in what I’m trying to say. I don’t know the right thing to say. I never know the right thing to say.

Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t screw always everything up. “It wasn’t,” I finally force myself to continue, off his patient and somewhat bewildered glance. “It wasn’t what I wanted... I didn’t want it to happen. I don’t, I don’t even know what-“

He finally puts me out of my misery now. “Katniss,” he speaks my name along with a sigh. I watch carefully, feeling a lump build in my throat, as his blonde brows furrow over his baby blues.

He shakes his head, slow and calm. Far more reasonable than I ever anticipated. “I’m not mad at you, Katniss,” he promises, with all the genuineness in the world.

I bite my lip, befuddled by his words. “But... where have you been then?” Why did you leave me? A small voice in the back of my mind demands.

He shrugs, his gaze falling down to his bed now. His demeanor is almost embarrassed, I realize with a start.

“I wanted to give you and Gale space. I’ve been practically mauling you since you woke up so I thought-“

“But I didn’t want you to leave,” I abruptly burst out, unable to shove the words down any longer.

A pang of embarrassment shoots through me though, for the pathetic crack, evident in my tone. And I mentally berate myself.

Not for the embarrassment. For the pathetic crack itself.

And for the fact that somehow I’m the frenzied one here and Peeta is the voice of reason.

Which used to be our norm but after everything that’s transpired, I would have thought things would be reversed by now.

He just stares at me for a long moment, carefully considering his next words.

Finally, he opens his arms slowly and utters, “Come here,” in a tender murmur and I practically fly into his arms before I can second guess the offer.

I feel my injured side screaming as I curl up like a ribbon in his arms, but I surpress the wince to the best of my ability and instead bury my face in his shoulder, breathing in his sweet scent like a mad girl.

He softly presses his lips to my messy locks, carefully massaging the back of my head soothingly. “I’m sorry I ran away,” he whispers, barely loud enough for even me to hear. “I was just embarrassed. I know—I’ve always known deep down—that it’s not right for me to constantly hold you to the things you said in the games. Or to project my own feelings onto you.”

“You didn’t,” I refute venomously, my brows knitting together.

“Katniss, I know you and Gale have had something between you for a long time.”

“Gale was just a friend until me and you came back from our first games. Maybe he wanted to be more even before, I don’t know, but I never felt anything romantic for him. I swear.”

“You don’t have to defend your feelings to me,” he states softly.

“I know, it’s just...” I sigh, moving to sit upright across his thighs. “No matter what I do, it’s wrong. If I say I’m confused, you’re both hurting. If I say I want to kiss you or sleep with you or just be with you, I’m leading you on because I can’t-I can’t make any promises about my feelings right now, because I don’t even know up from down anymore. And if I say I do or don’t want to kiss Gale or be around him or hunt with him still, I’m hurting him or giving him the wrong idea or telling him the wrong things, and it all gets confused and there’s an entire rebellion that I’m the face of, and now I don’t even know if I’m a part of that, but Snow and his followers all hate me still so I know family still won’t be safe until this is all over. And you. You and Johanna and Annie went through the ringer over me. And Gale gets upset whenever he sees us together—it hurts him to see us—but I can’t always seperate you two from one another and I just-I don’t know what I can do. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Peeta lets me rant the whole entire spiel out, his hand slowly moving in circles to rub my back, from the top of my spine down to my backside. “Katniss,” he whispers once I’m done. “You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I get it. You’re under immense pressure. The last thing I want to do is make things harder on you.”

“You’re not,” I say, shaking my head insistently. “You’re not making anything worse, Peeta. It’s-it’s not you.”

“Okay,” he concedes and unconsciously wraps me up tighter in his arms. “Just relax, okay? Relax and breathe.”

I quiver and quake against him. “I don’t think I can.”

I barely realize I’m crying until Peeta leans down to kiss my tearstained cheek softly. “Katniss, it’s okay. I’m not mad. And Gale shouldn’t be. If he is, then that’s on him. The rebellion isn’t just your responsibility. Do not let them put all that weight on your shoulders. I know they already have but it’s not all your responsibility. And no one is going to let anything happen to your mom or sister.” He pushes my hair away from my forehead, pressing his lips there for a long moment. “Or you. I promise I will not let anything else happen to you.”

I swallow hard as he rests his forehead against my temple. I squeeze my eyes shut in hopes that it will make my head stop spinning somehow. Deep breaths to center myself fail miserably and in the end, I feel my bruised ribs and lung disagree with the movement and ache worse than before.

Peeta feels me cringing against him in pain and remains careful as he shifts, reaching for something off his bedside table.

I’m in too much pain to react as pushes off my robe and tugs my hospital gown down in order to slide against my skin, his hand holding it firmly to my side.

The icy temperature brings some sort of relief to me almost instantly, and I let out an audible sigh of relief, feeling my rigid body relax even a minuscule amount for the first time.

“I don’t blame you for having feelings for Gale,” Peeta murmurs, drawing my attention back to our conversation and away from my painful left side. “And if you want to be with him, I won’t hold it against you. I’m not going to lie, I’d be ... sad but... it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be your friend. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be at jere for you however you needed me. There’s no ultimatums here, Katniss. I’m still here for you, even if you’d rather be with Gale.”

I pause for a long moment, absorbing his words. He’d be willing to be my friend, even if I hurt him? Even if I chose someone else over him? Even after everything we went through, even after all the ways he’d been abused because Snow could see how much I care for him? How much I need him. He’s still willing to put it all aside and be there for me, no strings attached.

And I try not to compare but my brain draws the conclusion almost involuntarily, and I can’t stop myself from realizing that, in the same position, Gale would likely not be telling me the same thing.

I burrow my face deeper in his shoulder, shutting my eyes in exhaustion.

Peeta catches me off-guard, moving my hair aside to kiss my neck, eliciting a flare of heat in the place where his lips brush my skin, and I may not know exactly how I feel, but I know in that moment exactly what I want right now.

“The only person I want to be with tonight is you,” I whisper honestly, looking up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to somehow understand an emotion I don’t know how to admit. “The only person I want right now is you, Peeta.”

[sweetestlamb]

Touch My Heart

Summary: The heart wants what it wants. 

Author’s note: I tried really hard to accept the ending of Mr. Queen and I was able to find enjoyment in watching the characters that I had grown to love but after deep consideration, I can’t truly accept what happened to Bong Hwan, it’s just too cruel despite knowing how homosexuality is viewed in Korea. If that was the plan he should have never been made to fall in love with the King and they should have merely been friends working together for the greater good. no romance if it was going to be thrown away in minutes. If they wanted to include hot make out scenes then make it known that Soyong is taking control of her body and this is not what BH wants, but he’s taking the backseat in those moments. Let it be known that they are both in there but the romantic feelings are solely from SY. Don’t let BH wrestle with his sexuality and accept that he loves the King only to leave him with nothing back in his world, he grew from the experience but at the cost of what? His sanity. Anyway, yes I changed my mind. I The couple I fell in love watching was BH and Cheoljongie and that’s probably the only couple, I’ll write about. Maybe when I see more of SY in the spin off I’ll grow fond of her, but to me Cheoljong’s heart belongs to BH and just because SY loves him doesn’t mean she deserves him, the same way Byeong-In didn’t deserve her. 

A month goes by, the most splendid month she's ever spent in the palace. Walking around the castle grounds, there are always jubilant faces; servants greeting her with wide grins instead of the fear she used to evoke, she smiles back now instead of trying to thwart their happiness. It feels like someone has lit a torch in her once pitch black life, what she thought was a pointless existence now suddenly has a meaning and purpose. 

And it's all thanks to him, this mysterious man from the future. Jang Bong Hwan. When she jumped into that lake she had expected death, and nothing more. She didn’t have a plan, she just didn’t want to suffer anymore. Everywhere she turned there were locked doors and there was no way out.  Suicide was a sin but she would gladly accept her punishment, living her life was worst than any hell she could imagine. 

But rather than death she was locked in the deep crevice of her mind.

Seeing and hearing all but unable to say or do anything, a vegetable in her own body. But fright melted away to admiration, this strange man was brave beyond belief; standing up to those who had made her existence a living hell. Despite all the step backs and their many attempts at his life, their life he hadn’t given up finding new ways to fight back every time. Without even trying he had accomplished her one desire in life-to be the owner of the King's heart. She watched in awe as the icy barricade erected around his heart became to thaw, no match for the fiery force of the time traveler.

She watched as they fell in love and although it was her body, they were his feelings. Feelings that had taken time and effort to grow, it was torture to not be the one experiencing that. Then like a gift from the heavens she was back, restored to her rightful place. When she'd awoken to the King's tearful eyes, his mouth wide and twisted in pain she knew she would do anything to make him happy. This was her second chance and she wouldn't waste it.

Everything had changed while she'd been away. Everyone had changed.

Court Lady Choi and Hong Yeon looked at her at times, curious eyes unblinking. As if they were waiting for something, but she didn't know what. She was behaving as the perfect queen, listening the Court Lady's every complaint without agitation, they should have been happy but instead they kept looking confused and longing like there was something that wasn’t quite right. She futilely tried to convince herself it was simply her imagination.

However, it was not solely them. The King was the worst, they shared a bed every night and in the beginning she'd been elated at this occurrence. Until about a week ago, when he'd asked her a question she couldn't answer.

"My Queen, there is another word from your dictionary I need help understanding. What is the meaning of this?" He crawled closer to her, shifting the silk bedding beneath them. Once she got over the pleasure of having him so close, fear set in. 

His finger was underneath a word, she'd never seen before in her life.

Fraud.

She tried to sound it out mentally, taking his syllable separately but it still sounded foreign and she watched his anticipation dissipate as he awaited her reply. He continued to stare intensely at her, his brows furrowing as the seconds dragged by.

"My Queen?" The tone of his voice unsettled her, he looked desperate for a reply and dread settled in her stomach. She wasn't who he thought she was and the look on his eyes made it evident, knowing the truth would irreversibly change their relationship.

So she did something unthinkable.

Clutching at her stomach, she feigned pain watching him push the book aside to grab her, wrapping her in his embrace as he rubbed her back. Whispering soothing sounds into her hair.  She pressed her face into his neck, miserably. This was the life she'd yearned for, why were things still not as they should be?

She'd fallen asleep, too shamed to allow him to hold her that night. He hadn't tried to change her mind, rolling over and turning his back to her. It felt like they had moved back to step one. 

She'd kept her distance following that incident, needing a moment to process her thoughts without her love for him clouding her mind. He hadn't tried to visit her either, instead sending letters to check on her and their unborn child. She felt the wall being built and she didn't know what to do to stop its insurrection.

Sneaking away without her court ladies noticing she went for a late night stroll, hoping to clear her thoughts of the King, Her luck must have been running out because instead she stumbled onto a conversation that was not meant for her ears. 

Her intention hadn't been to eavesdrop but she couldn't walk away, it piqued her interest too much.

"The King seems different these days, wouldn't you agree?" The usual jovial voice of Special Director Hong was serious as he asked the question, using a cloth to clean a long gleaming gun as he stared up at the King's brother.

The prince stopped sharpening his sword for a moment to consider the question, after a long pause he nodded in agreement.

"Yes. He seems troubled and he has not been visiting her highness. Each day he sighs while holding a strange book. He seems lost.".

"What do you think could be bothering him? He has everything he's ever dreamed of. The kingdom is doing better than ever and he's expecting a child. This should be the happiest moment of his life."

The Prince sighs shrugging before replying in a hushed voice, "I've not seen him like this since he learned that Hwa Jin was not the one from the well. He acted this way then too."

It feels like a dagger through her chest, stumbling back she rushes back to Daejojeon hall with her heart in shambles. What am I doing? She feels nauseous at the comparison, she was fooling the King and she doesn’t know how much longer she can continue this farce. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

To say the Queen is acting strange is an understatement, she is acting like someone completely different. He waited for her to drop the honorifics, thinking she was teasing him and this was meant to be a joke but she didn’t, instead she she began acting like a proper Queen and easily following the suggestions of her Court Lady to both of their dismay. What was wrong with her? Had she hit her head and forgotten that she was meant to be a loveable headache and not a soothing summer breeze? 

She's still the same beautiful woman, looking at her evokes the same lust and admiration but speaking to her confuses him; in that she no longer uses words he cannot understand and her behavior is that of a trained Queen. He’s confused but her lack of confusion. She's being extremely consistent and he's never been more perplexed and thrown off kilter in his life.

He finds himself yearning for something he cannot name. Looking at her in the hopes he'll find what he's looking for and instead of a mischievous grin or an arrogant smirk, he's always greeted with the same serene smile. It's pretty but it's not the smile he's grown to love these past few months. It reminds him of the Soyong he'd met during that rain shower, someone he didn't know but found appealing.

They haven't slept together, despite sharing a bed. All of his advances have gone unnoticed, where as before it simply took them being in the same room to ignite a flame in both of their loins. Once he'd followed the Queen into a pantry, hearing her grumbling about nosy head chefs but once she noticed his presence, it only took seconds before they were ripping at each other's clothing. They'd been missing each other all week and he was practically starved for her. It was clear the feeling was exceptionally mutual.  He'd taken her against the wall, hard with her egging him on and whispering pure filth in his ears.

"Fuck! Yes right there, don't be gentle. Fuck me until I can't walk, come on harder!"

He had no idea what that word she said meant, fuck but he was powerless against her commands flipping her around to pound into her from behind, a position that she had taught him. She  wailed rocking back shamelessly  to meet his harsh thrusts, the sound of her nails scratching the wall making his skin hot. Skrrrrrrrr. They slammed into each other until his legs were tense from the position and she wordlessly took over, separating them with a loud wet squelch before pushing him to the ground and riding him like a wild stallion. He had watched helpless as she bounced on top, her breasts jumping freely as she shoved him deep inside of her tight grip. When they were finished, he was dazed and breathless. She'd looked at him with barely opened eyes, slowly licking her lips looking like sin personified before patting his cheek.

"I needed that. Thanks for screwing my brains out." She barked slipping off his softening cock, he watched mesmerized as his spent dripped from her precious place. 

More words he didn't fully comprehend but her satisfaction was obvious and that was all he needed. He'd preened under her, feeling himself swell again at her words.

She raised one eyebrow at the sudden press of hard skin in her thigh.

"Come visit me tonight. We need to make up for lost time."

They had made love until his cock couldn't get hard anymore and she'd collapsed next to him, splayed with her breasts bitten red and his seed leaking from her well used hole.

Something had changed but he couldn't place what it was exactly. He tried brushing it off but it gnawed at him until he couldn't hold it in and he'd broken down and asked her about the Queen's dictionary. He'd purposely chosen the word knowing exactly what it was. His Queen had used it several times to describe the corrupt members of the royal court. They'd all been frauds, living a lie wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

He thought that would put his mind at ease but instead it had been the opposite; her hesitation solidified his fear, there was something afoot and he had to know what it was.

He sighs stroking at the book, he always keeps by his side.

"What am I missing?"

Before he can get too lost in his thoughts the head eunuch enters the room, bowing all the way.

"Your majesty, the Queen has come to visit you."

He looks up at the announcement, his usual excitement doused by his doubts but his heart does lurch at her arrival. His Queen did not care about propriety, coming to this chambers at such an indecent hour was a great sign. That was more like the Queen he'd grown to love. Maybe he had been overthinking and there was nothing amiss after all. 

"Let her in." He straightens up, moving the scrolls to the side to give her his full attention.

He watches as she bows gracefully, before sitting down. Far away from him. A ball forms in his throat, he'd gotten used to sharing his space with her; and sharing his table during their late night talks. She didn't appear to have any intentions of joining him at the surface despite the constant occurrence of that happening the months prior. He tries to but he couldn't keep the disappointment off his face.

"My Queen what brings you here so lat--"

"I'm not who you think I am." She interrupts, staring down at the floor instead of looking into his eyes. Strange again, she was typically so good at maintaining eye contact at times even unnerving him. 

He tenses at her exclamation, mouth falling open in shock. What did she mean? Who else could she possibly be if not his Queen?

"What are you saying? Are you feeling sick?"

She ignores his inquires, "You've noticed. That I'm different. I can see the way you look at me, the way everyone looks at me, like you're all waiting for something. I'm not that person."

He tilts his head, trying to understand her meaning but he can't decipher what she's trying to say. He tries to reconcile the two versions of the Queen he's come to know, the wild untamed Queen he fell in love with and this poised and tactful Queen he was a stranger to. The two don't make sense in his mind.

"The person you fell in love with..."

He stares at her intensely almost scared to hear the rest of her sentence but knowing he must, his biggest fear was living a lie and not having control over his fate. Holding his breath he impatiently waits.

"That wasn't me. Do you remember what I said to you the day after I woke up?"

He storms his memory trying to recall her words oh so long ago. Then it hits him, those crazy words coming out of her mouth.

I'm really a man. From the future.

He had paid her no attention than, barely wanting to be in her presence much less listening to her tall tales about something that couldn't be true. She was clearly a woman and the second claim held no possibility at all. But they'd had conversations later too about those same ideas, right in the spot he was sitting now.

She'd taught him about things he could only dream of- democracy, voting, people born with spoons, even people who loved others who shared the same sex. He'd been confused about the last one but she had explained it simply, "Love is love. Who cares what they have between their legs?" Worded in such a manner, he'd found it impossible to argue with her. Love was indeed, love. 

"Are you saying that this was true? How can that be? You are here right now. Who are you then?"

She sighed finally looking at him, face cloaked in sadness.

"I'm Kim Soyong, the person you are in love with is Jang Bong Hwan. He was controlling this body after I jumped into the lake. He's the one that helped you and he's the one that was willing to die for you."

He gasps leaning back in his chair, before bringing up a hand to cover his face, scrubbing wordlessly at his skin.

"I know this is shocking but I couldn't lie to you anymore, you kept looking for him and it's clear I'm not the one you want." Her voice is soft, barely a whisper and guilt spreads at her assessment- she's right and he's guilty that he can't deny it.

A sad smile fills her face, "Don't feel bad. You didn't do anything wrong. I should have fought harder to have the life I wanted, I thought death was my only option but I should have chosen to live. I didn't love myself enough to fight."

He's suddenly transported to that night by the lake, her eyes glowing with tears as she begged him to love her, to understand her. He hadn't been able to see that moment clearly then, assuming it was a command and that she was another evil member of the Kim Clan. She'd loved him but he couldn't see it then too blinded by his thirst for vengeance. 

But he sees it now. Clear as daylight.

"I'm sorry."

She seems paralyzed by his unexpected apology but before she can cut him off he continues, "I'm sorry I couldn't understand you. I was too blinded by revenge to see you that you were a victim too. I should have tried to understand you." He owes her at least that much, but he can't say that he wishes things were different. It would be falsehood. If she hadn't done that unspeakable act of throwing herself into the lake he would have never met Jang Bong Hwan, the man he loved.

It was selfish but he wouldn't have changed anything, it was all worth it for those fleeting moments they spent together.

"Is he gone now? Back to where he belonged? Is he....happy?" He's broken at the idea that he'll never see him again, they never even got to say good bye. Was he alone now with no one to comfort him? Did he struggle to fall asleep too? It hurts that he will never know.

"I think so."

That has to be enough then, he has to accept things for what they are. It was against the rules of time that they crashed into each other's orbit, fates hand had taken a wrong turn and this was the Queen he was supposed to be with, he understood her now. He didn't hate her. He could grow to accept her and his fate and move on, he had to. 

But his heart rips remembering her- no him wrapping the scarf around his neck, the first time he saw the embroidered CJ and how it brought him to tears. His grunts as he carried him from the well and let him hold him until he fell asleep. His face as he'd reached for him after the explosion, the distress and panic. How was he supposed to forget any of those moments? How was he supposed to go on living without Jang Bong Hwan? 

"Thank you for telling me."

"That's not all I came here to tell you."

His head spins, nervous about what other information she could possibly have to tell him. He still hasn't processed this, both that he's been in love with a man and that he'll never see this man again.

"I want to give him my body."

All the whirling in his brain shuts down at her utterance. Finally, his mind is silent.

"What?"

She repeats with more confidence, "I want to bring him back. I want to give him back this body."

He stifles his glee at the suggestion, knowing that he can't allow her to do such a thing. This was her body, her life, how could he allow her to throw herself into the lake again? He was a better man now, he wouldn't stand by as she took her life, not this time.

"No. I can't let you do that. My happiness is not worth more than your life, I will get past this I promise you. I will stop looking at you with expectations, I'll accept who you are." He will grow to think of her fondly, she's the mother of his child he will make space for her in his heart.

He watches as a single tear streams down her cheek, "Can you promise that you'll grow to love me, the way you love him?"

He's frozen at the question, he stares wide eyed at her. Immediately knowing the truth, avoiding her eyes as he stares at his palms. He can't make that promise when his heart only beats for one, he stays silent knowing that his silence speaks volumes.

"Would things have been different if I hadn't been from the Kim Clan?” She asks him again, the question that had tipped her over the edge and he feels all the regret and guilt in his body and this time he answers honestly.

"Yes. They might have, I could have accepted you better. But I love him now, I wouldn't change anything because it all brought me to him. I can't apologize for how things went." He knows those aren't the words she longs to hear but he can't give those to her, he can't accept her feelings.

"Maybe in a different universe, we could have been something more." She says heartbroken, face wet with tears now. 

Maybe. But he doesn't want to find out. He wants this universe with the one who holds his heart.

She bows before standing, "I've made up my mind. I'm doing this for myself as well, I can't live my life as a shell. I want to find my own happiness too."

He watches as she walks out the room, never looking back.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He doesn't understand her full intention until days later, he watches puzzled as Hong Yeon, the Queen's most loyal court maid comes barreling towards him. Her face is red with exertion and something that looks like terror. He feels the same emotions coming to life in his body as he watches her pant and struggle to speak. 

"What's wrong? Speak! What happened?" He commands, impatiently waiting for a reply. 

"Your majesty, it's the Queen." She cries, a cascade of tears falling from her eyes and he doesn’t wait for any clarification before he bolts off to Daejojeon hall, hoping that he's not too late. He couldn't afford to lose anyone else.

[morgana-ren]

My Little Omega

This piece was a birthday commission for the lovely @aizawascumslut​ ! Thank you so much and I really hope you enjoy it! I’m so so sorry it was a little bit late, life has b l o w n lately, but I did make it almost 3,000 words for you!

It is NSFT with A/B/O dynamics, and this is my first time taking a crack at any of that (just kidding NSFT is my specialty) but really, I’ve never done A/B/O before so hopefully I didn’t fuck that up too badly.

Shigaraki really wants to make your birthday as memorable as he can and give you a very special gift that only he can give you.

Shigaraki was never good with birthdays.

Growing up, a fuss was never made about his own, and he had very few people in his life he considered important enough to care. He would get the occasional ‘Happy birthday, young Tomura’ from Master, but even that waned as his age progressed. It was just another day to track his progress; how far he’d come and how much further he needed to go.

He knew that people on the outside had a very different idea. It was a day of celebration, where the person of honor had well wishes and last minute presents thrust into their lap, celebrating that they were born and every subsequent year they’ve been alive. The entire thing seemed asinine to him; what’s the point of cheering for your own existence for doing something as basic as simply being alive?

He didn’t understand it. It made no sense, and frankly, he didn’t care about it in the slightest.

At least until he met you.

You were the one person who he was happy was actually born, one of the few he didn’t hate or ignore entirely, and suddenly he began to grasp why others would throw parties and give gifts to the ones they appreciated and loved. Birthdays had meant nothing because the people around him meant nothing, but that wasn’t the case anymore.

Still, lifelong ignorance of the tradition had led him into a rather awkward situation.

He had no idea what to get you for yours.

It was coming up rapidly, and days fell off the calendar with his constant mental mantra of ‘I’ll deal with it later’, despite the fact that he could never come up with anything that he found to be worthy. Naturally, he had thought of the old standbys like flowers, or chocolate or some generic bullshit that the rest of the waking world uses when they’ve run out of original ideas, but it never felt right. His relationship to you was special. It deserved more than some half-assed and unimaginative throwaway token of love. If he was going to go to the trouble of gifting you something, he wanted it to mean something; both to him and to you.

Time drew on and he got precariously close to the deadline before something finally jumped out at him. It wasn’t until the morning of your birthday that he found the perfect gift to celebrate you and your presence in his life. It dawned on him as he was roused from his sleep earlier than normal by your clawing, needy fingers grasping at him, sweat beading slightly on your forehead. You were whimpering, still passed out but clearly in a state of discomfort. If your body language didn’t clue him in, the overwhelming scent that coats both your body and sheets and stirs his cock certainly did.

Your heat.

It was upon you.

Your sleepless eyes open and focus on him with blown out pupils, face crinkling in pain and realization as he drags himself off the bed. He looks at your cutely pathetic expression and hates how much it rouses him. The desire building at the base of his spine is already conflicting with his daily responsibilities. There was so much he had to tend to today, important things he needed to manage, but his every instinct screams at him to curl over you on the bed, press your legs deep into your chest and knot his little Omega until-

Oh.

And just like that, he knew. He knew exactly what he would give you.

Forcing his primal brain to ignore the irresistible scent you’re producing that’s cloying down his nostrils, he gives you a reluctant goodbye, poorly masked with irritation and stress. His tone is harsh and stern as he tells you to quit being so needy and he needs to go, he has stuff to do. He knows you can’t help it, but seeing you in this state is making it even harder for him to leave and focus on anything but breeding you. He needs to be able to focus and maintain his responsibilities and army, but hard doesn’t even begin to describe it when you slip from beneath the bed sheets, slick already coating the inside of your thighs and dampening the front of your sleep shorts. Fuck, he can smell you, perfect and ripe for breeding and remarking.

Still, he can’t let lust cloud his judgment right now, even though as your alpha, it’s deeply wired into his brain to mate and protect you. He knows he’s leaving you alone and vulnerable, possibly open to attack from another alpha despite his mark deeply etched into your neck. Anyone would be stupid to try, knowing he’d rip them apart with his bare hands, but he still hates the fact he has to leave you. It goes against his every instinct, each painful step of his body echoed by a desperate call of his name or the breathless sigh of ‘alpha’, your own submissive and primal needs overtaking your rational brain.

He’ll finish his business, and quickly. He needed to be here with his omega. It was her birthday, after all.

But as the day dragged on, minutes turn into hours and his own skin begins to itch and crawl. His head screaming and demanding that he return to you, muscles twitching in his legs as he almost pushes himself from the chair against his own will. Needless conversations and endless procession of things he could care less for are occupying his attention; attention that should be nowhere but you. He can practically smell you from across the base. Your scent mixed with his, palpable and tangy in the air. It’s distracting. His cock twitches and he can feel his rut coming.

He needs to get out. Now.

He needs to get to you.

Meeting be damned, he leaves mid sentence. No one is foolish enough to question.

Everyone knows the scent of an Alpha yearning for his mate, and even if they didn’t, they certainly knew the smell of an Omega in a fresh heat.

He practically kicks open the door to his apartments, finding you restlessly curled into a newly made nest of his blankets and sheets, burrowing deep into his scent. You’re whimpering and desperate, hunched over from the pain and head swimming with nothing but thoughts of his knot and his pups. Hypersensitive to his pungent smell already, your attentions are turned toward the door even before he manages to enter. Your slick still visible between your quivering thighs, clutching and trembling as you waste no time pleading for him, his name slurred and urgent on your lips.

“Please- Please… Shigaraki- Alpha!”

You crane your neck for him, already branded and scarred where his jagged teeth initially made contact with the muscle. You reek of his own scent entwined with yours, equally familiar and intoxicating. The way you weakly beg for him, hurting in a way that he and he alone can soothe drives him into a frenzy, every muscle twitching, eager to pounce on his pretty little Omega.

“You want me to take you, don’t you?  Needy little bitch in heat.”

He shrugs his coat off onto the floor, overtaken with lust and moving on pure instinct towards you. You can feel it, the raw, dominating scent practically radiating from him. Quickly, you gather onto your hands and knees and push your ass in the air, prostrating yourself before him. Your hips wiggle desperately, and he chuckles at your lack of shame, too blinded by need for him to find any sense of composure.

He likes it when you present yourself for him, all wet and urgent and craving his touch, and right now, there’s nothing you want more. You want him to fill you and make you whole, cum inside you again and again and give you what you need the most.

“You want my knot? Want me to fill you up with my cum and give you my pups?”

An incoherent cry escapes your throat as you practically fall to the floor, limbs scraping along the ground as you try to quell the pain in your body that’s spreading like fire throughout your limbs and becoming more and more unbearable. Tears bead in your eyes and he can tell it’s hurting you even more than he can truly perceive. His rut began less than an hour ago but already it’s building to unimaginable levels.

You’ve been such a good girl; So strong all day. You need him now, and he needs you, and he’s done waiting. All For One himself couldn’t claw him away from you. He’d rather die.

He inhales a deep breath, taking in your overwhelming scent and holding it in his lungs. Had he not marked you, every alpha within miles would be trekking here, crusading to claim you. You had always been so sweet, so overpowering in the saccharine smell that permeated off of you and onto everything around you.  

But you’re his.

His.

And he’ll kill anyone who even fucking dares to get near you. He’ll rip them to shreds and there will be nothing left but a puddle of gruel.

His own animalistic instincts take over, growling from the low of his throat as he threads his fingers through your hair and yanks you backwards.

“Mine. You’re mine.” He nibbles on your exposed throat, teasing you on top of the mark he’s already gifted you. His thick cock prods on your backside and the needy whine that emanates from your throat doesn’t escape him.

“For your birthday, I’m going to fill you with my cum and knot you, make your belly all swollen and perfect. I’m going to fill you with my pups. You want that, don’t you?”

You nod feverishly, unable to muster anything but an incoherent babble as your neck strains in his grip, your clumsy fingers fumbling with the waist of your sodden shorts. They stick to your soiled legs, refusing to slide down with anything but a frustrated yank. He chuckles at your desperation despite the last semblance of self-control he has being discarded with your ruined clothing.

“On your back. Now.”

You whimper at his authoritative voice, unable to disobey the commanding voice of your alpha. He releases your hair long enough for you to quickly flip yourself over and fall to the floor, spreading your legs open for him. Lithe fingers make quick work of the buttons on his pants and before long, he’s crawling half of the way on top of you with his boxers pulled down over the thick of his thighs.

“Good girl,” His palm crawls up your legs, stopping just short of where you need it most. Your body twitches and you wail, trying to wiggle into his touch. Slick pools on his hand as he drags the pads along the inside of your thigh, lips slacking slightly as he watches your thigh muscles twitch hungrily at his ministrations. He’s barely even touched you but you’re practically sobbing, tears running down your cheeks as you stammer out his name over and over. 

His cock jumps watching you worm around, body glistening with sweat and need, looking up at him through watery lashes and glazed eyes as if he’s the only thing in the world you’ll ever need. It’s enough to send him over the edge, pushing forward on his knees so he looms over you entirely. 

“You’re going to be a good little omega and take my cock now, right?” He taps your core with his hot, thick length. “You’re going to let me re-mark you and fill your belly with my pups?” “Yes, please-“ You nod enthusiastically, shimmying your lower body to try and entice him. “Please mate me, alpha!”

He aligns with your entrance, using the last bit of his strength to hold off ramming into you before he makes you beg. “My cute little bitch in heat. You want me to breed you? Knot you over and over and make your body take my seed?” “Yes!” He anchors his elbows beneath your knees, pressing your legs up into your chest, finally letting himself sink into you. The slick sound that echoes into your ears is just flat out embarrassing but you can’t bring yourself to care. You throw your head back, moaning loudly as he fills you up to the hilt. Finally, his chest comes flush with the back of your legs, bottoming out inside you. His lips brush against yours as he pecks you softly at first, but then more and more ravenous and greedy. He hisses between sloppy, open mouthed kisses, muttering and cursing into your own mouth.

“My omega! Mine, mine!” 

He pulls out only to thrust all the way back in, burying himself inside you once more before he begins his brutal rhythm, betraying just how needy he is for you as well. Your body bounces helplessly on his cock as you keen and cling to him for purchase, steadying yourself on his shoulders. 

You think he’s coming to devour you again but his lips find your marked neck, digging his teeth into the brand over and over again as he rocks powerfully into you until you’re certain that you have no scent left of your own. You don’t mind, you don’t care, you’ll stay in this home forever and raise his pups.

“Yours! Only yours!” 

He groans against your neck and withdraws, bringing his head up to you again. Beckoning him closer, you throw your arms around him and tighten your grip around his neck until he’s forehead to forehead with you. He’s drooling slightly, face turning red with exertion as he repeatedly cants his hips against your dripping pussy over and over again. He finds the wherewithal to kiss you, tongue slipping past your lips and exploring your mouth frantically. You can feel him try to say something but between the molding of your mouths and the pleasure sparking and coiling in your abdomen, you can’t make it out. 

Panting and heaving chests collide between the joining of slippery, sweaty bodies and the punishing pistoning of his hips bruises you as he practically fucks you into the floor. The loud wailing of your wanton moans and his animalistic growls echo off the bedroom walls. The slapping of flesh on flesh joins the cacophony and it all comes together to heighten your pleasure and stimulate you even further. Your beloved alpha, he’s going to fill you soon. He’s going to knot you and breed you over and over until you’re mothering his pups. 

“My good- ah- good little omega. You’re going to be such a great mother-“ His staccato thrusts become slightly more erratic, losing their rhythm ever so slightly, and if you could focus between the twitching of your cunt and the blinding orgasm growing in your gut, you could tell he’s getting close. “I-I can’t wait to watch your belly swell. Your tits will grow nice and fat with milk and- fuck!” 

His moans become breathier and higher pitched, heaving them into your ear. Your own release is nearing soon, every nudge of his pelvic bone against your clit taking you higher and higher to the top. Your pussy pulses with his filthy words, toes flexing and your fingers tensing in his hair, urging him forward. 

“Shigaraki, please-!” 

Your eyes meet for a brief second, his heavy scarlet ones staring glassy and blown out into yours. Your back arches off the floor and his teeth clamp down on the rounds of your neck where your mark is once more, sinking deep into the pliant flesh and claiming you a final time before you feel his cock twitch and with a drawn out and uneven howl, he empties himself inside you. 

With the warm sensation of his white, sticky cum filling your womb and his broken and breathless admissions of pleasure, you find yourself pushed over the edge as well. Your walls flutter and contract around him, squeezing and milking him as he scratches at the floor beneath you in a blinding and borderline overstimulated euphoria. Your entire body convulses and shakes beneath him, face contorting and uncontrolled sobs of bliss exhaling from your chest, slowly turning into fractured little wails and gasping.

When you finally come to, he’s releasing your legs from his hold and gently lowering them to the floor, still laying atop you as his knot plugs you and prevents the loads of cum from escaping. His tender finger brushes your cheek, kissing you softly with a few gentle pecks. You can feel your heat subside, if only temporarily, but you know it’s likely not going away. Heats are never so kind, and it’s only a matter of time until he has to leave again. The thought fills you with panic and your heart begins to race.

You look to him as if to say something, but he just presses his lips to yours once more.

“I know, little omega.” One of his large hands comes down to stroke your belly, feeling the pressure from the seed currently plugged deep into your womb while the other keeps stroking your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s my omega’s birthday, after all, and I want it to be special. I don’t care how long it takes.”

[trials-by-blood]

Male with Gender Neutral S/O. S/O is protective over their Yautja. One day, on the mothership, a female gets interested in the male. S/O firmly shows the male is theirs. Male is very impressed by their antics. (If possible, make it naughty ish. Like pulling on Yautja tresses. I apologize if that makes you uncomfortable. I don’t know what you’re rules are.)

Okay so, It’s done! Like another prompt, I decided I should consciously try to be concise and cap it off before going over 2500 words or else it could go on and on. Unfortunately, this couldn’t be naughty because I’ve made the decision to keep this blog at a PG-13 rating. I wound up RBing my original post (The one announcing open asks) with a loose outline of my rules after receiving this very ask. Yeah, I kinda had that “Uh-oh, I forgot the most important step” moment. 

This one sort of ran in a few unexpected and at times turbulent directions. I hope you enjoy this reply although it veered a little off course.

-Ghardeh-

The ooman was always a pain. Ghardeh called them H’ko. It was literally the word for no. Why did Ghardeh call the ooman this? Because it was the first word in Ghardeh’s language that they had learned and one they loved to use. No, no, no. “No” to proper clothing in the current yaut fashions, “No” to any food item they found suspicious, “No” to bathwater heated too hot, “No” to sleeping in the kehrite as unblooded should, “No” to observing Ghardeh’s hunts via a live stream transmitted from the eye lenses of his helm because they did not like the idea of possibly witnessing their companion’s death in real-time. A definite “NO” to learning to hunt as well. They didn’t have any interest in hunting to prove themselves. 

H’ko, H’ko, H’ko. Ghardeh had heard the word in that terrible accent so many times he’d begun mockingly repeating it back to the ooman out of frustration, eventually, it became their pet-name, and later it became a term of endearment. Ghardeh had long given up on the notion that H’ko would ever become a warrior, but that was fine, the ooman was proficient in mechanics and electrical work and it was a respectable profession for an ooman.

Bound for the Clan ship, Ghardeh did not worry much about the ooman’s safety. His clan worked with oomans regularly and in H’ko’s case, as they weren’t a warrior and wore typical ooman dressings, the people would regard them with the same scrutiny as the unblooded: well beneath the gaze of warriors. And yautja women? Well, they ignored their male counterparts ninety percent of the time too, doubtful they’d even register H’ko’s presence at all. Other yautja should simply pretend H’ko didn’t exist as they tagged along safe and sound under Ghardeh’s left arm, and if anyone spared them a second glance it would likely be assumed that H’ko’s role was that of a hired repairer and no more.

Ghardeh had prepped H’ko very sternly and more than once for this visit. Speak to no one above their rank. Do not make prolonged eye contact as it is seen as a challenge. The breeding season is near so if a female propositions, allow Ghardeh to decline and do not intercede. That last instruction was very important. 

Ghardeh had known that humans were often monogamous, and when asked H’ko confirmed that they would prefer not to share Ghardeh’s romantic attention with others. This was one of the many compromises in their unusual partnership. Ghardeh would sleep and engage in sex acts with H’ko and only H’ko, but they had agreed to allow Ghardeh to donate reproductive material non-sexually to females if it was asked of him. Ghardeh had to explain to the ooman: if you are a strong warrior and a fine hunter, it is your duty to contribute your traits to the next generation. They had accepted that aspect of yautja culture begrudgingly, taking a long time to think through and voice all concerns about it just as Ghardeh had done as well when it became apparent that his ooman companion did not enjoy the notion of their mate being dragged to a stranger’s bed chambers if a proposition was accepted. The ordeal of Yaut mating practices also seemed to upset them. A female will usually test a warrior to be absolutely certain that she’d chosen a sire well. This often involves dangerous feats or enduring a physical altercation. H’ko had been unhappy with the very common occurrence of males limping their way home after a failed encounter with a choosy woman.

Ghardeh was merely reviewing all of this information in his head whilst he lied on his back and massaged at the stress crease in his forehead with his knuckles. Tucked against his left side and in the crook of his arm was H’ko, snoring and blissfully unaware of Ghardeh’s anxiety. H’ko would be relatively safe for sure, but something always went wrong when he tried to bring them aboard the Clan Ship. Last time, H’ko accidentally got dragged off with another group of oomans after being mistaken for a member of an ambassadorial tour group. None of the actual ambassadors had the gall to inform their extraordinarily intimidating guide that H’ko was just some random person who was grabbed, scolded for wandering off -which they had, but not from that group-, and herded along with the rest of the soft little aliens. Ghardeh was tempted to tether H’ko to his own body this time, so they couldn’t move more than ten feet from him.

Ghardeh sat up and scrubbed a knuckle against his closed eyes as he prepared to leave the bed, then let a hand fall on H’ko’s shoulder to gently shake them awake. It was time to dress, eat, and prepare. 

Docking went smoothly, and disembarking was uneventful as well. They were greeted by Chulonte, a friend and hunt brother who knew H’ko well and even dipped his head slightly to acknowledge their presence.

“The meeting place has been reserved, we should go now, the others have already gathered,” Chulonte told them briskly before turning away and leading them on.

Ghardeh leaned toward H’ko and dropped a hand on their shoulder. “We’ll acquire a midday meal after the meeting, just the two of us.”

Ghardeh was pleased when H’ko gave him an earnest closed-mouth grin. H’ko liked when they ate alone yet in public. Called them “dates”. 

-Taylor-

Ghardeh was in the meeting with his equals, a loose coalition of hunters each with their own private hunting vessels who always coordinated with one another so that their time hunting on various worlds did not overlap. Apparently, there were laws in place to prevent over-hunting on some planets and to avoid over-exposure on others. Taylor was told to wait outside with Chulonte’s hounds. They were big ugly scaly beasts. One had a face like a cross between an English Bulldog and a cod, the other was nothing but a fangy maw of teeth and horny protuberances growing from its back but they were rather friendly, at least toward Taylor. Taylor wasn’t completely fluent in the Yautja dialects but it had seemed that, as a favor to Ghardeh, Chulonte had given his hunting hounds a command to guard the tiny human among them. The animals hovered close to where the human sat and would stand from their seated positions if any passerby veered too close. Taylor chanced a hand at petting them, Bulldog Face kept dropping his enormous head into the human’s lap for more attention, Spikey Back wasn’t into it and lied down just out of reach.

A group of women began to form nearby, but not too close, as Spikey Back had stood and shown the lot of them his teeth when they tried to form a cluster too near to where Taylor sat waiting for Ghardeh. Taylor could hear this and that which was said among the women. Some of the discussion was pretty damn raunchy. They were here to find action and had planned to greet the hunters when they conclude their meeting and disperse. They said things about what they wanted to do to the hunters they had chosen, sometimes what tests of strength and resilience they were expected to endure, but more often the discussions leaned heavily into overtly explicit themes. The woman who wanted Chulonte wanted to see if he could track by scent as accurately as his hounds could and if he succeeded in this test she would, and Taylor could only partially decipher the phrase, “??? him so ??? that his spine comes undone from his pelvis”. It made Taylor’s skin crawl, especially when all of the women laughed approvingly at what the other had said. Taylor hoped it was a lesser evil in being just a filthy joke but given how tall and strong they appeared, and how dangerous Ghardeh had told Talyor they were, they wondered if they really could injure their partners in such a way. It certainly seemed possible.

Taylor felt tension building in their chest. They heard them name off nearly all the hunters they’d seen enter the meeting room and every brutal ordeal they wished to subject them to, and it was only a matter of time before Taylor heard Ghardeh’s name. It happened, and when it did, the human’s pet name was mentioned as well. 

“Ghardeh is a difficult one to persuade, too difficult to bother with up until now. He now has rank advancements, clearly enough to afford him a live trophy. That’s worth some regard, but how to get rid of H’ko long enough to have adequate time with the man?”

“Seems like Chulonte’s dogs make fine enough guardians for it. Let us coordinate our liaisons then-”

Taylor couldn’t keep their mouth shut. They’d been infuriated by three ugly words. Live Trophy and, It.

“I am NOT a Live Trophy! And Ghardeh is NOT available for your abuse!” They shouted, causing both of the hounds to jerk to attention and search for a threat to their charge.

-Ghardeh-

Ghardeh had correctly predicted that the meeting would go very much as it had in all of the previous seasons, a few smooth agreements, a few disputes, a fight or two, and then they’d leave and continue about their personal business. He left that meeting room with lunch on his mind and the expectation that H’ko would be clamoring for a meal as well, he had not anticipated being met with the sight of them dangling from the grip of Dar-bak’di, the most fearsome of the local young women who roved in a pack during the breeding season. H’ko was kicking and gasping for air as they flailed in her grip, Chul’s hounds were being bribed into complicity by the other women offering them whatever morsels they had in their bags, and Dar-bak’di was making a show of how easily she could destroy a mere ooman. Now it was Ghardeh shouting H’ko! H’ko!

It took a great deal of convincing to get Dar-bak’di to release H’ko, and the limit of her mercy was to drop the gasping ooman on top of Ghardeh and call them both abominable, in addition to accusing Ghardeh of something akin to bestiality. Dar’bak-di had smelt Ghardeh’s amorous n'dui'se all over his ooman companion and she refused to believe it when she was told that H’ko was a legally hired mechanic. To perform mating practices with species classified as prey was frowned upon, but not against any written law. The truth of the matter was, H’ko was unbelievably lucky to survive the encounter and had, hopefully, learned something from it. 

-

The ooman did not argue or make a fuss on the way home, and whether they liked it or not they were carried. The bruising around their neck was already blooming into hot red blotches. Ghardeh said nothing of it but make no mistake, he was furious. He’d told H’ko in no ambiguous words not to engage in conversation much less an altercation with yautja women! And what did they do, start a fight they could never under any circumstances survive on their own.

Upon his Vessel, Ghardeh placed H’ko in bed and with the intention of letting them sleep the ordeal off. After leaving the room, he went to the galley to serve himself a drink before grabbing the kit to treat severe bruising, but heard the soft soles of H’ko’s feet padding behind him.

“Go back to the bed and rest,” Ghardeh told the ooman flatly without turning to look at them as he poured a glass of c’ntlip.

“They were saying terrible things,”

Ghardeh sighed and set aside the decanter before taking the first sip and responding.

“They’re lonely and horny, of course they were speaking in lewdisms. I warned you that they would speak this way about whatever they set their longing eyes upon.”

“But it was about you and-”

“I don’t care what was said about me! You disobeyed the most important instruction I have ever given you! You could have been rent to pieces! You directly challenged an individual no less than twice your height and perhaps four times your weight! Worse still, she was legally in the right to throw you through a wall if she wanted to!”

“She called me a Live Trophy!” H’ko shouted through a snarl.

The tone immediately triggered Ghardeh’s expression to twist and eyes to darken as he postured for a fight -albiet only a verbal one- but the words gave him a reason to pause as he processed what was said. Live Trophy, it was nothing else but a slur, and H’ko’s anger was justified. H’ko tended to show a fear response with tears and soft whines when they were angered, though, which Ghardeh was always bewildered by. A show of anger more familiar to Ghardeh had come first this time, perhaps because his own mannerisms had begun to rub off on the ooman, so a second pause was taken to scrutinize H’ko’s face. Ah, the grimace and tears were building behind the facade. Ghardeh deflated.

“She called you a Live Trophy?” he asked, softly this time as not to elevate H’ko’s anger further.

It was too late to abate the ooman’s upset. Fat droplets ran down their rounded face and they stopped making their oh-so-important eye contact as they nodded to confirm that, yes, they’d been called a live trophy.

Ghardeh moved in to close the distance between them in two strides before dropping both hands on his ooman mate’s shoulders with a great sigh. 

“We will treat the bruising on your neck, then we will prepare a meal on our ship, then we should talk about what happened.” 

H’ko did that typical human thing by saying nothing and gripping the yautja around the waist in an embrace. Ghardeh tried the rumble affectionately, but frankly, he was now furious beyond belief for all new reasons. Live Trophy. Had he known such a term had been thrown at his companion, he’d have been inclined to challenge her too.

“You were brave Tay-Lar, for defending your honor.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Ghardeh said with a genuine growl of approval this time, stroking the back of his companion’s round head.

[boredindminor]

Icarus- A Darkling Oneshot

‼️Ruin&Rising spoilers

A/N: Takes place during Ruin and Rising, so be mindful of spoilers. Slight Darkling x OC(the narrator). This is just a quick oneshot that popped into my head and it doesn’t have any solid backstory, so feel free to make up your own assumptions. (Or I’m just lazy af). It’s basically a Darkling sob story, because Baghra’s death made me sad.

It had been years since I’d last felt him. Eons, most likely. His presence was gnawing at the back of my head, a familiar sensation now weighted with unfamiliar sentiment. He wasn’t simply calling, this time. We were connected with a rope at which he was now tugging desperately, no matter the years and the miles separating us. I had almost forgot that Ravka even existed, a country forgotten by god, fallen in the arms of devils.

The specific devil that was now interrupting me insisted to the point of giving me a headache. I had always been curious, so I answered.

I wasn’t standing in the Little Palace, as I was expecting and hoping to be. Instead, I found him in a pathetic ditch right underneath a steep cliff. He was sitting into the dirt, his beautiful kefta stained with it, as he wordlessly clutched a toneless mass in his arms. It hit me then. A grief so ancient, so inconceivably inhuman, it knocked me to my knees, but still I refused to speak. What happened to the old god? Did he fall from heaven?

Overcome with a pain I couldn’t understand, I sighed at an attempt to ease the clenching of my chest. This feeling was only a pale reflection of what he felt and it scared me to recognise it, to see it replace the power and safety I always felt with him.

“What happened?” I finally rasped and crawled to him, noticing the soil before him was fresh.

I waited. Still he didn’t talk or look to me, only stretched a weak hand and handed me the pile of cloth from his lap. I unfolded it and recognised its symbols soon enough; a sun in eclipse, discreetly embroidered on the inner hem of an old, black kefta. The secret, unwavering loyalty of a mother to her child.

“I’m sorry.”

The child didn’t reply. His grey eyes remained fixed on the pale hands resting on his lap. How I missed his beautiful grey eyes. He was weak, or at least, weakened; his hands had never been particularly manly, they were an artist’s hands, but now they had become thin and pale, the redness of his palms contrasting morbidly with the veins running through the marble skin.

“Aleksander,” I whispered. Because it had been Aleksander who had summoned me, not the Darkling. The boy lost through eternity, not the Heretic.

At the mention of his true name, he turned to me, his hollow cheeks creating dark shadows that suited his haunted eyes. Where were the eyes that cut through steel?

“You came,” I would remember those words for the centuries to come. Not a whisper, but not strong enough to be his voice.

“What happened?” I took his hand in mine and he didn’t move, though he didn’t pull away either. I had suppressed my power for many years and the amplifier in his bones made it spark back to life. His face fell, resuming the familiar cool façade he always wore. I forced his eyes on mine, “Lean on me.”

And so he did, both literally and figuratively. As I stroked his raven hair, he recounted the tale of the Sun Summoner and the Shadow King. He had done great, terrible things. Sins I could not forgive, terrors too horrible to name. I understood Baghra’s sacrifice and grieved for her. I had felt the sting of her cane on my hands, too, after all. She should have stopped him when he could still be stopped. Before he’d disrupted the natural order of the world and plunged himself into the abyss.

“Don’t act on your despair, Aleksander. You have to be clever now.”

His voice throughout the narrative was calm, as if it were a fairytale, not the horror of reality.

“I know your disgust,” he admitted, “I can feel it. I am not sorry. What I did, I did for Ravka. For the oath I took.”

We were curled together on the ground by now, knowing no one would bother us. “I took an oath, too. But my conscience is clean.”

He snarled at that, but pressed his forehead against mine. “You always did share my mother’s quaint ideas.”

It was my turn to pull away and had it been any other moment, I could have hit him. “I shared something more than her ideas when it came to you, Aleksander.”

He didn’t reply. What bound us was too old to be brought up in conversation. It wasn’t a thing of the modern world.

He was Icarus. A boy who flew too close to the Sun and had yet to feel the scorching fire of her full power. His fall had just begun.

As I turned to leave, I carved his every detail in my mind. I knew I was seeing him for the last time.

[solarscholarsofmagick]

10 Things that EVERYONE Needs to Know Before Starting the Craft

1. Wicca and Witchcraft are Not the Same Thing

This is a pet-peeve of mine when people use those words interchangeably. So, what’s the difference? To put it simply, Wicca is a religion, while witchcraft is a practice. It’s like saying that prayer and Christianity are the same thing. Wicca is a relatively new invention, being created in the late 1950’s by Gerald Gardner after he spent a lot of time in Asia and became enthralled with their spirituality, which he merged with various occult practices that he came across in his travels. Witchcraft, on the other hand, is defined, at least by this author, as the act of manipulating the energy around you to achieve a goal. You can be either or you can be both, but they are not mutually exclusive.

2. Witchcraft Does Not Need to Kill Your Bank Account

If you follow many big-name witch influencers, more than likely, you will get caught up in the aesthetic of hundreds of beautiful crystals, perfect altars, sculpted candles, and much more elaborate and expensive things. Now, I want to make it clear, that there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, but it is not always feasible to have (or afford) everything required to fit that aesthetic. Rough, unpolished crystals will work just as good as the one you saw that was professionally polished and carved into the shape of a skull. You can get candles at thrift shops, not just at the website that sells specifically anointed candles for every specific intention. Remember, it is not the tool that makes the witch, but the witch that makes the tool!

3. Know the Difference Between a Coven and A Cult

While it is not necessary, there are definitely some benefits that come with finding a coven that welcomes you with open arems. So, first off, what is a coven?

A coven is a group of like-minded witches that help each other out magickally and hold a special bond or connection. They will often perform rituals together. Please keep in mind that there is a difference between a coven and a cult.

A coven is rewarding, full of (usually) great people and potential friends, while a cult is dangerous, toxic, and filled with people who often prey on the vulnerable or unaware.

Here are some potential warning signs of a cult:

They encourage you to cut off ties with your friends and family.

They try their best to make you dependent on them.

They pressure you into engaging in sexual/criminal/drug activities.

You feel as if it is dangerous to leave.

The “leader” equates themselves to a deity or is a “my word is law” type.

You feel as if you are walking on eggshells around them.

There is some “divine” goal that you must behave a very specific way in order to reach.

Those who manage to escape are demonized and/or are made into examples.

If you suspect that you or a loved one are in a dangerous situation, please contact the appropriate authorities.

4. Witchcraft Can Become Mundane

Pop culture has a bad habit of sensationalizing witchcraft. As cool as it looks, witchcraft isn’t all lightning fingers and demon-slaying. You most likely won’t become a soldier of a magickal war, facing down an ancient evil that was recently released. Sorry, I didn’t mean to burst your bubble!

That being said, witchcraft is extremely rewarding and can be as fun as you make it!

Just like with any other art, it requires discipline! It requires study, practice, and essential tasks (or as they are often fondly called, witchy chores). Some of these “chores” include cleansing, charging, decorating, meditation, and more. Unfortunately, as we all know, these tasks may feel tedious, but they are often very necessary. Again, it is as fun as you make it, and you will be less likely to burn out/hate performing the tasks if you view them as the essential tasks they are rather than unnecessary chores.

5. Learn As Much of the Basics That You Can

As much as we want to immediately jump into more flashy things such as astral projection and elaborate spells or hexes, you must learn the basics first. Why? Because, without a strong grasp of the basics, your magickal work can be unstable and reap results that you may not have intended, including ones that cause harm to you or those around you. To quote a cliche, you must learn to crawl before you can walk.

Here are some basics that I recommend you begin with:

Visualization

Meditation

The history of witchcraft

The elements of a spell

Color/stone/common herb correspondences

Grounding

Different types of the craft

6. Elitism Exists and it’s Bullsh*t

Unfortunately, no matter what community you are in, there will always be a few bad apples, but I will be referring specifically to elitists. Elitists in the witchcraft community tend to preach that their way is the only true way to be a witch, that you must have the most expensive of tools, or that witches who come from a family of witches are better than those who do not. If there is one thing that I want you to take from this article, it’s that, no matter what anyone says, you will NEVER be any less of a witch because of your bloodline, ethnicity, skin color, religion, spiritual practice, or socio-economic status!

7. You Don’t Need to Choose Between Religion and the Craft

One of the most common reasons of being apprehensive towards starting your journey through the craft that I see is a fear of retaliation within your own religion. For example, a lot of Christian witches will initially be afraid of going to hell for their practices. As someone who grew up in the Bible Belt of the Southern United States (poor Awen still lives there), I can definitely relate to this feeling. However, I, as well as several other religious witches, can say that you can have both. You do not need to drop one to have the other. In my eyes, your relationship with your god(s) is between them and you and is nobody else’s business.

To make things a little easier, however, I recommend sliding into the craft slowly. Dip your toe in the proverbial water. Try starting by engaging in activities that aren’t necessarily tied to witchcraft such as meditating, grounding, growing plants, or even just collecting pretty rocks. I also recommend reaching out to practicing witches within your faith for advice. It also may be a good idea to truly research religions of interest and make sure that your religion is a good match for you. It is okay to realize that the religion you were raised to be in, like being raised to be in a particular political party, does not have to be your religion. If it is and it causes you and others around you no harm, then I am truly happy for you and support you.

8. Learn to Listen to Your Intuition/”Gut”

We tend to have a 6th sense for danger or the presence of another being. You may recognize this feeling when you can feel that someone is watching you. Our instincts are built into us to keep us alive. Personally, following my gut has saved my life more than once. In one particular incident, my gut told me to stop at a crosswalk despite not seeing any nearby cars and the sign telling me to walk. Seconds later, a truck sped by, running the red light at full speed.

If you feel that a spell has taken a turn towards the unwanted, find a stopping point and seal it away. Feel as if a deity is calling you? Take the time to research them and their calling cards. However, please take the time to learn the difference between a negative gut feeling and general nervousness, as it does feel different.

9. Learn the Difference Between Good and Bad Resources

Misinformaion and toxic ideologies can be dangerous when it comes to witchcraft. You can read extensively about the difference between the two in my previous post about it here.

10. It’s Okay If the Craft is Not for You

If you decide to try out the craft and later feel as if it isn’t clicking… that’s okay. The initial decision to explore is not one for life. Just like how certain sports, hobbies, music, et cetera are not for everybody, witchcraft is not for everybody. Anyone who decides to judge you for that is wrong and not worth your time.

Please consider supporting us by viewing the original post on our website, here!

[theskyeandsea]

The Skye & Sea || Orion, Shiloh, & Skylar

Timing: Early morning, January 20th

Location: Skylar and Rio’s Home & the sea

Tagging: @3starsquinn​, @evanescentform​, @theskyeandsea​

Description: Rio and Shiloh help Skylar return home.

TW: Drug use, addiction, memory loss, body horror, chronic illness, previous instances of abuse mentions

Cold. That was the first thing Skylar noticed as she pushed open the door to her house. She wasn’t sure when she’d realized that she felt cold, but she felt freezing as she made her way through the house. Her clothes were still soaked in blood, still torn in places from where she’d been stabbed, from where they’d caught on branches when she’d run from… Who’s house had she run from again? She couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. She was cold and she wanted, she needed-- Shivering, Skylar wrapped her arms around herself, the lesions on her arms beginning to crack as she did. They didn’t hurt, but Skylar looked at them and knew that she needed them to be gone, that her body wanted them to be gone. She wanted to be warm, she would swallow the sun and let it burn her from the inside out if it would get rid of this cold.

As she made her way through the house, Skylar caught sight of Dundee, his hackles raised and dark eyes staring at her with alarm. There was a presence about him, something darker, something strange that she’d never really noticed about him until this moment. Stepping towards him, Skylar was halted when the tiny dog let out a deep, echoing bark that caught her off guard.

Orion rubbed at his eyes and blinked back into focus on the bathroom mirror. He hadn’t been sleeping well, too much on his mind about Skylar’s situation. How had he missed so much? Rio probably saw her more than anyone else. He lived in her house. And yet this took him by surprise. He knew something was off when he heard the door open. He was expecting Shiloh. After what they had seen with Skylar both were concerned. But he could tell it wasn’t Shiloh that had just walked in. The confusion only doubled when he heard Dundee start barking. He slid out of the bathroom and made his way towards the entrance, stopping short when he saw that Dundee was barking at Skylar. On instinct, Rio touched at the palm of his hand wrapped in gauze. “Skylar. Thank god you’re back. You-” Don’t look good. That’s what he wanted to say. She looked horrible. Sad, sick, hurt. He wanted to rush over. Help her clean off the dried blood and fix whatever was wrong. But her words held him back. She hadn’t wanted his help. And he wasn’t sure if that had changed or not. “Are you okay?”

All they could do was wait for Skylar to come home, hope that she would. Shiloh couldn’t stop her mind from going to its darkest thoughts, completely in fear that something bad had happened. With every passing second she feared her thoughts had come true. If she wasn’t thinking about that she was thinking about what Skylar said about hunters. She didn’t know which one was better to focus on. She jumped from her seat in the living room at the sound of the door opening but she still was second - or third to be aware of Skylar’s presence. It was such a relief to see her standing there, alive. Shiloh was the first to walk over to Skye, once again not even taking a second look to see if Skye was armed like before, she just saw how terrible she looked and knew it couldn’t wait. She held out her hand for Skylar to hold onto. Frankly she didn’t know how the girl was still standing. “I’ve got you,” Shiloh spoke, her voice remaining calm and gentle, not wanting to alarm Skylar or make her feel bad for what she had done. Right now there was no room for judgment. All that mattered was making sure Skylar got the help she needed. It didn’t look like she had any blood on her that was fresh, so that was a good thing.

At first, Skylar was alone. And then, suddenly, Rio was there and Shiloh. Both of them. Why were they both here-- oh. He lived there, Rio lived there. But Shiloh, why did she care? Why was she here and why was she looking at her like that? Shivering, Skylar curled in on herself, ignoring the hand Shiloh offered her way. She didn’t want Shiloh to have to touch, to feel the dark scabs that covered her skin. As she rubbed her hands over her arms, Skylar felt a slight peeling followed by a sharp sting of pain. Pain. Pain. Glancing down, she looked at her arms and saw that her arms were beginning to ooze a strange sort of liquid. It wasn’t blood, but it didn’t look good. Looking back up at the two of them with bleary eyes, Skylar shook her head. No, she wasn’t okay. She wasn’t okay. “I need--” Bliss, she wanted to say. She wanted all of this to melt away and for the painlessness to return. She was just so cold and so tired and the pain was coming back. It was all coming back.

But, what came out of her mouth instead was, “I need my skin. My skin, I… I haven’t turned in,” Skylar paused, unable to remember the last time she’d turned. Months. Months at the very least. She’d pushed the symptoms off for as long as she could, but she was… dying. “I need to turn. I need the ocean and I need… my skin.”

Guilt bit at Orion at how quickly Shiloh ignored any apprehensions and ran right up to Skylar upon seeing her. Should Rio have done that too? Would Rio have done that months ago? He dug his hands into his pockets and glanced at the floor, suddenly ashamed that he was intruding on the moment. He almost turned to leave the entryway, and let Shiloh help where he clearly couldn’t. The least he could do is distract Dundee. But Skylar mentioning her skin stopped Rio before he could completely turn to leave. He shot a glance over at Shiloh, unsure if she knew about Skylar’s secret. It seemed that way, by Skylar’s ready admission to needing it. “It’s in her room” Rio stated simply, nodding to Shiloh that they should grab it for her. “We can get it. Can you meet us at the pool?”

At the sound of the word ‘pool’, the cloying chemical scent of chlorine filled Skylar’s nostrils and she immediately shook her head. No, no, she didn’t want the pool. Just the thought of being in those waters made her skin crawl-- in an almost literal sense, she could see the scabs on her arms cracking and breaking as she twisted to face Rio. “No, I can’t, not there. I need… I need to go to the ocean. The sea. I have to be there, I have to turn there.” She said, unable to put the pull in her gut into words. The cold, the pervasive cold that was sinking into her bones, for some reason it felt as though the icy waves would ease it from her system. Or maybe it was her skin. Maybe if she buried herself in her skin and sank like a stone through the waves, she’d be able to feel like herself again. Whatever herself even was. 

Shiloh had no idea what her skin was. Clearly it had to be a selkie thing but, what did it look like? “Uh,” Shiloh licked her lips, glancing from Rio to Skye. So the pool was out of the question and Skye needed her skin to shift. But Shiloh didn’t want to pretend she knew all about that and at the same time didn’t want to look like a complete idiot not knowing anything. “Can you go get it?” She asked Rio, understanding if he didn’t want to go but she really didn’t want to invade her privacy and considering Rio was her roommate… it would be fine right? “We’ll take you to the ocean okay? I promise. Let’s get in the car and go to the ocean.” Shiloh repeated hoping Skylar would trust her. She kept her hands to herself, noticing how Skylar seemed to keep away from her touch rather than seek it. That was fine. Whatever made Skylar most comfortable. 

“Got it! Be right back!” Orion spun on his heels and jogged to Skylar’s bedroom. He froze just outside her door, hand hovering over the door handle. The last time he had gone into her room by himself it hadn’t gone well. This time, he at least had permission to get it, but he couldn’t brush off the nerves that kept biting at him. Back in her old apartment, he was breaking into her room to see if she was supernatural. To try to figure out how to keep her safe. Now he lived with her and he was going in to find the same skin that he had found the first time. Only this time she seemed way past needing protection. Big failure there. With a final sigh Rio pushed into the room and started searching her room. 

Unfortunately, Orion found way more than just her selkie skin. The room was a disaster, but among the mess, Rio couldn’t miss the pills or the needles. They scattered the bed and the desk, and Rio wasn’t naive or nearly innocent enough to feign ignorance. He knew exactly what that meant. And suddenly, any signs that Rio had wanted to ignore were glaringly apparent. Rio didn’t know how to even begin processing this, but right now he didn’t have the time. He grabbed the selkie skin and ran out of the house to the car, jumping in the back seat. “I uh- Grabbed it. In your room. Where I found the skin. Because that’s where it was. We should probably go to the beach. We can talk later.”

A shiver ran down Skylar’s spine, a violent tremor as another wave of cold rushed over her. She could feel… her limbs. Her arms felt as though they were being pulled from her sockets by the oppressive force of gravity, as though someone had pumped her veins full of lead. She shook slightly, teeth chattering as she tried to hold herself tighter. She just wanted to be warm again, to be nestled in the soft fur of her skin and let it melt into her body. Her bones ached for the soothing touch of the sea and she knew more than ever that she needed it. “Mhm. Need to go to the ocean.” Skylar repeated, following after Shiloh towards the car. When she reached for the door of the car, her hand felt heavier than it had in ages. The boundary of the door and her skin was once more in place, she couldn’t sense the gaps and spaces that existed between them, couldn’t press her hands through the void. But, maybe that was for the best, Skylar mused as the blood crusted bandages around her fingers darkened.

Skylar hardly noticed when Rio jumped into the car, she only felt the warmth of her skin enter the car. Her arms reached out for it, snatching it from his grasp. Skylar pressed it to her chest, the bloodied, matted fur staining her shirt. It was hers. And she needed it, she needed it now more than ever. “Thank you.” She managed, her voice coming out in a hoarse whisper as she looked at the two of them with glazed over eyes. “I just… Please. I just need to turn.”

Shiloh led Skylar to the car, entering the drivers side once she was settled. Rio joined them shortly after and she turned to look at them, catching how Skylar held the skin. While concerned, Shiloh felt hopeful that this time, they would be able to help her. More importantly, Skylar was willing to let them. She gave a small smile and started the car, heading for the shortest path to the ocean. While she drove, she kept glancing in her rear view mirror to check on them both. She worried something would have Skye change her mind in the last minute. Shiloh debated locking the car but she trusted them. It would be fine. She pulled up as close to the ocean as she could and then got out of the car. She walked over to Skylar, close but keeping a respectable distance away. “Do you need help with anything?” Shiloh asked, hoping she didn’t come off too clueless - not that it would be the furthest thing from the truth but she was embarrassed by it. 

The ride went by in a blur of street lights and the dull rumble of the car engine. Skylar remained curled up in the backseat, the last ounces of her energy slowly draining from her body. Pain, months and months of pain that she’d been holding off by never turning, it was returning with a vengeance. The weeping sores on her legs and arms felt worse than they ever had, like her entire skin was going to slough off if she moved the wrong way. Her muscles were stiff and sore, pain shooting through her body with awful familiarity. Memories of her childhood, weeks and weeks spent in a haze of pain and delirium as she kept feeling worse and worse. Until her parents finally let her turn. She needed the pain to end, she needed to turn.

As soon as the car came to a stop, Skylar practically threw herself out of the vehicle. The sand shifted under her feet as she stumbled towards the ocean. “I just, I need. I need to get to the water.” She managed, the words more like a gasp of pain than anything else. She took great gasping gulps of air as she lurched across the sand, her hands pulling her shirt over her head on instinct. She needed these clothes off of her, they were wrong, they were wrong. She shed clothes behind her, the scent of the ocean sharp and cold and fresh in her lungs as she ran. She hated it. She needed it. She needed to turn. 

The drive to the water was tense, all three too busy worrying about what was going to happen to spend much time talking about it with each other. When they got there, Orion hesitated on how involved he should be in getting Skylar to the water. She had tried to convince him that her words about hunters hadn’t applied to him. But he wasn’t sure that he could believe it. Not when so much of what she had said rang true for himself. But this wasn’t about his own insecurities right now. He just needed to get Skye to the water. “Grab onto me.” Rio reassured her. Even if she was very much topless. He couldn’t focus on that right now. Just helping Skye. Once they got in, she could use the skin to dive deeper down. His jeans and hoodie wasn’t ideal swimwear, but he would probably only need to get waist deep. He struggled with her, wading out into the water and trying to hold her still against the waves. If Rio wasn’t so worried about her well being, he would have to focus on the fact that he was very much clothed and she was very much not. But aside from the averting eyes and bright red cheeks, Rio mostly ignored the sight and continued forward. “You got this, okay? You don’t need us for this part.”

Shiloh gently guided Skylar to the water, going as far as Rio did, following his lead. She figured the clothes would have to come off but didn’t expect Skye to so quickly take them off. She maintained a respectful gaze before looking over at Rio. It seemed he had since averted his eyes too and she smiled at the blush that colored his cheeks. “Should we stay around until she comes back?” Maybe he knew what were the next steps to take. Shiloh was kind of amazed at how natural it was for Skye to take to the water and she felt hopeful that Skye would be able to take care of herself but her previous actions did cast some doubt in her mind. She looked over again, this time unable to see her, it was like she wasn’t even there. She got out of the water, walking over to grab her discarded clothes. She wasn’t sure if washing them would get everything out but it didn’t feel right to just leave them there. 

Skylar barely noticed how Shiloh and Rio were guiding her through the water. Her focus was solely on easing the pain that was now running rampant through her body. Her muscles ached and her joints screamed in protest as she forced herself to fight against the waves, her skin draped over her shoulders. The water was cold, so cold against her skin, running in sharp contrast to the thick, warm blood that weeped from her skin. The sores on her arms were oozing into the ocean as her fingers clumsily searched for the long slit in the skin. She needed to do this, she needed to turn, she needed to be… this. If she wanted to live, she had to turn. With a gasp of effort, Skylar sank under the water and slipped into the skin.

Her bones creaked and shifted, unused to this form that they hadn’t taken on in months. Her fins were weak and soft as Skylar did her best to fight against the current that threatened to sweep her away. Her eyes, so used to air, burned around the edges as the salt water rushed around her. But, already the pain was easing, the ache in her bones ceasing, the small sores all over her body closing. The icy water wrapped around her like a soft caress, pulling her deeper into its embrace. It was hell. It was heaven. It was everything she needed. Skylar pushed herself to the surface, sucking in a deep gulp of air before staring at Rio and Shiloh for a moment, her dark eyes blinking at them. They’d saved her. For now, they’d saved her.

With a huffing groan, Skylar propelled herself back into the water and let the current take her.

[my-soul-sings]

This Is Everything I Never Wanted: Chapter 1

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Everyone! Mainly Taehee VS. Yooha (but not TaeheexYooha) because I’m here for the drama and tea  👀☕️ 

Summary: An alternative account of events in which Taehee was the one who summoned Yooha from the scroll instead of MC.

A/N: I live for Taehee and Yooha's brawling in the game. This idea popped into my head last night and I went ham on it, enjoy this crack-fic, I hope it makes you smile/laugh. :)

Now up on AO3!

***

It all started the day Biho came home with a scroll painting. Frankly, it looked weird. There was a man with long, silver hair on it, and Taehee didn’t like the weird aura coming from the scroll. Or maybe it was just the man’s face he didn’t like. Something about it pissed him off—probably that annoying, arrogant smirk on his face. 

But Taehee couldn’t object to Biho hanging it up on the wall in the living room, especially not when he looked so mesmerised by the picture of the sea in the background. The younger man had always been fascinated by the sea, so Taehee decided to leave it alone. MC also seemed to like it too, and if the house owner herself had no complaints, who was he to protest? 

On hindsight, he should have said something. Insisted on his way—something he rarely did and would probably be easily forgiven for.

At first, Taehee kept noticing the painting, unnerved by the feeling that the man’s eyes were following him, watching his every move. He swore it wasn’t his own imagination, and he felt goosebumps rise on his skin whenever he walked past it. He couldn’t ask Biho to put it in his own room though; the wall in their room already looked messy enough because of Hansol, who had a compulsive need to buy posters of his favourite musicians. 

With little options at his disposal, Taehee tried to brush it off. Ignore it, pretend it wasn’t there. 

It took a few days, but soon enough he practically forgot that the painting even existed, for the most part. And life went on, as per normal.

That is, until Cleaning Day.

It was his favourite day of the year, as excruciating as it could get at times. No matter how clear or detailed his instructions were, his housemates never seemed to understand how to clean properly. That, or they simply didn’t care, which Taehee didn’t understand. 

It was easy enough to be patient when it came to MC. After all, she was probably just tired. He could manage doing part of her share of the work.

But Biho and Hansol? Those two hardly ever performed up to par. Hansol would say that he had finished wiping the shelves, and Taehee would swipe a finger on the underside of the wood, and there would be a sheet of dust coating the pad of his finger.

Biho was no better. After making a towering stack of his books and simply leaving them in the corner of the room, he would find a place to sleep, even if it meant hiding under the bed to avoid Taehee’s attention. Or wrath. 

After a full three hours of back-breaking work that day, Taehee had neared his limit. The breaking point came when he just finished washing the toilets, and he arrived in the living room to the sight of all three of his housemates knocked out blissfully on the couch.

“You... haa...” He had no words. He was exhausted too, but the kitchen had yet to be touched. And yet the three of them were already resting as if they had accomplished a lot over the past three hours compared to him. 

In his mind, the list of chores still unfinished gnawed away at the remaining strands of his sanity. That wasn’t even including the things that he’d probably have to re-do, courtesy of his housemates’ terrible cleaning standards. 

The thought of the work left undone was enough to draw another long sigh from him as he deflated a little, a frown appearing on his face. Taking care of his house was a huge weight on his shoulders. In fact, it started getting a little too heavy for his shoulders to bear.

It took Taehee a hot minute to realise that the weight was no longer metaphorical.

“Ew. I’m finally out of the damn scroll after so long and the first thing I see is a guy’s sweaty back? What the hell?”

He heard a foreign voice in his ear. A man’s voice. And then he realised there were arms wrapped around him, as well as a pair of legs and unfamiliar shoes behind him.

Shoes. In the house. That he just mopped. Twice.

Taehee turned around, about to let loose a string of curses at whoever it was, when he realised just what exactly he was looking at. 

It was a man he didn’t know, dressed in some traditional cosplay, his curious grey eyes scanning the house around him. 

Instinctively he jumped back, confused and alarmed by the presence of a stranger whom he didn’t recall letting in. Where could he have come from? The doors had been locked and the windows were open but they certainly weren’t big enough for a man this size to crawl through easily.  

But wait... there was something familiar about him. Taehee couldn’t quite place his finger on it just yet, but he didn’t like the feeling of deja vu washing over him. Or the sense that this guy wasn’t just an ordinary man—if he was even human at all. 

“Hey.” Taehee’s attention snapped to the man who was now looking at him. He bristled, for some reason already disliking the guy and his narrow eyes. 

“Were you the one who summoned me?” the stranger questioned.

“What?” Taehee had to be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or both. It was probably from being overworked, which he blamed his housemates wholeheartedly for (except for MC). 

"Do you not speak Korean?” the stranger prodded when Taehee went silent for a tad too long.

“O-Of course I do,” he replied, not sure why he felt the need to be polite with this intruder. 

Wait. He didn’t. 

“How did you get in the house? I can call the police on you, this is trespassing.” 

“You’re asking me?” the strange man sputtered, raising his hands. “You’re the one who summoned me! You called my name!” 

He could at least come up with a more reasonable-sounding excuse. Taehee didn’t know who he was, let alone his name, for goodness’ sake. 

“I didn’t call your name. I don’t know who the hell you are, but explain yourself. Who are you and how did you get in here? I’m not joking when I said I will call the police,” Taehee warned, holding up the used toilet brush in his hand as a makeshift weapon. Even if it didn’t do much physical damage it would at least disgust the guy enough to make him go far away.

“Hey, hey, I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding here. I, need you, to explain to me where the hell I am. What year is it anyway? You guys have some interesting clothes,” he said, his eyes trailing over to the three sleeping housemates. How they were sleeping through this was beyond Taehee, but he felt alarm bells go off in his head when he noticed the man’s gaze lingering on MC’s sleeping form.

Before he could attack with the toilet brush though, suddenly a blinding white light engulfed the man, and Taehee had to squeeze his eyes shit. 

When he opened them again, the light had vanished and the man now sported a shorter haircut, his silver wavy locks styled in a more modern way. His costume had also disappeared, now replaced by a blue silk shirt, a silver necklace hanging around his neck and a pair of long black slacks. Thankfully, the shoes were gone. 

“There. Much better.” He walked casually over to the television to check out his appearance reflected on the blank screen. “Not bad,” the narcissist muttered to himself.

“What did you just do?”

“Changed into something more appropriate. You sure your brain is alright?”

Taehee ignored the insult. “You still haven’t explained yourself properly.” 

“I told you. You summoned me here by calling my name.”

He was quite persistent with this ridiculous story. Deciding to play along in case he could get more information out of him, Taehee asked, “What’s your name?”

The stranger stared at him like he was stupid, but Taehee maintained his frown long enough that the intruder finally relented begrudgingly with a dragged-out sigh. “It’s Yooha.”

Yoo-ha. Yooha? Taehee didn’t know anyone by that weird name, much less said it out loud for no reason.

Unless...

“You... haa....” 

Could it be... it was all because of that resigned sigh that had escaped his lips when he stepped into the living room just now? 

The realisation struck Taehee like a bucket of ice cold water being poured no him. That counted? Seriously? 

“What’s your name?" Yooha asked. 

“Taehee,” he replied thoughtlessly, before biting down on his tongue. This was hardly the time for introductions. “Now tell me, what are you? Where did you come from?”

In response, Yooha gestured casually to the wall by the television. More specifically, the painting that Biho had bought the other day, except now it looked ostensibly different: 

The man in it was no longer there.

“I was trapped in that painting, but you called my name so I was finally released,” he explained, the nonchalance in his drawl grating on Taehee’s nerves. Was this a joke to him? 

But... the more Taehee thought about it, the more he realised there was no other way to make sense of this bizarre situation. Yooha’s explanation seemed to be the only logical one, even if impossible. Unless, of course, he was dreaming. But a quick pinch to his arm and the sting that followed indicated that he wasn’t, quite unfortunately.

There was a groan, and Taehee glanced in Yooha’s direction. “What.”

“It’s just...” he scratched his head, his face contorting with a perplexed expression. “I’m not happy about this... but since you’re the one who summoned me out of the scroll, I’m now bound to you as a servant.”

“Come again?” Taehee gawked, which earned him an exasperated sigh.

“Of all things, I had to be bound to a mere goblin...” he grumbled to himself. Then, raising his head, he gave Taehee a hard look. “You’re not very smart, are you?”

“I’m a doctor. And wait- are you by any chance... a seon-ho?”

“Finally saying something sensible, are we?” the man scoffed with an eye roll. Taehee had to purse his lips into a thin line to keep from making a sharp remark. There was no need to prove himself to this complete stranger who was now calling him his... servant? The hell?

“So what,” Taehee began, “I’m your... master now?”

“Ugh, it sucks when you say it out loud, but yes. That’s right.” Yooha plopped onto an empty chair, stretching his limbs and settling into a comfortable position. He sort of resembled a cat.

“And who are they?” Yooha jabbed a finger at the pile of sloths as well as MC on the couch, who were still asleep. 

“The people I live with,” Taehee replied, eyes narrowing at him. 

“Three guys and a girl? What’s up with that?” 

“None of your business.”

“Ooh. Master is feisty.” He paused, a devious smirk playing on his lips. “Is it because of the girl?” 

“Shut up,” Taehee snapped quite uncharacteristically. It had been less than fifteen minutes and already this guy was seriously wearing his patience thin. “And stop calling me ‘Master’. It’s gross.”

"Yeah, I will. I almost threw up after saying that.” 

A moment of silence passed, neither knowing what to say. This was a weird situation, to say the least, and Taehee wasn’t sure if he had fully processed it yet. A lot had happened today and he just wanted to take a nice, hot shower and go to bed. Screw dinner, he was too tired to cook. Maybe when he woke up, this would all go away, including this pesky nuisance, and everything would go back to normal. 

“So...” Yooha spoke up, unceremoniously interrupting Taehee’s attempt to comfort himself. “What now?”

Taehee shrugged, but before he could say anything, he heard a voice. 

“Taehee...” MC mumbled. Her sweet voice usually made his heart flutter, but right then, it made his entire body go rigid. 

“Who’s that?” 

[bangtan-madi]

All Of Our Lifetimes — Interlude: First Life

Pairing — Taehyung x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Taehyung, husband!Taehyung reincarnation au, lovers to strangers and to lovers again, established relationship, implied soulmate au

Genre — fluff, angst, crime (ish)

Word Count — 3.4k

Summary — Does love ever truly end, or does it simply take another form in a new life? The cycle is like clockwork: your lives end and you’re reborn again. You’ve lived it over and over. Each cycle, one of you loses your memories and is tragically unaware until the other finds and awakens their lover. After all these eons, all these lifetimes, is it possible to find each other again—even when neither of you awakens with your memories? 

Part — 3.5 / 15

Warnings — relatively none, minor language, brief mention of death in childbirth

Previous — Next

{Paris, France — 1789 a.d.}

If there's one place on earth that you feel safe in, it's the garden surrounding the Chateau. With the large trees giving shade from the afternoon heat, the overgrowth of flora that attracts a variety of birds and insects, and the expansive maze of roses that covers the remnants of the grounds, it's a magical wonderland that's kept private for your family alone. When your father is away on his lengthy excursions around France, and the staff is busy keeping up with his home, you're left in utter peace to recline amongst nature and contemplate the state of the world.

You've concluded that there are a lot of things that have gone terribly awry in recent years. The citizens of Paris go hungry every day. Children are left without parents. Families are torn apart by famine and war. Endless war. Fear, anger, and hopelessness run rampant through the streets like gutter rats. 

Even in the modern year of 1789, the aristocracy to which your family line belongs has refused to do anything but suck the lifeblood of your country dry. They consume and destroy and tear the meat off the bones of your beloved France.

And your father is one of the worst there is. Your grandmother, the one who raised you, always told you to trust in yourself and in her family's power. She promised you that no matter how cruel or unkind your father, or the world, might be, you can always count on yourself.

"You have magic inside you, mon cherie," she would tell you every night. "One day, that magic will lead you to love."

"Why didn't it lead Mère to love?" you'd asked one day.

Your grandmother merely stopped what she was doing and laid her leathery hand on your head. "It led her to you, did it not? To you...and the garden outside your window."

Ever since then, the garden has been the place where you feel your mother's presence, but it's also the place where you harness her family's magic. The power that flows in your bloodline grows stronger every day, and when you reach your early twenties, it multiplies ten-fold.

Without control, your grandmother warns that your only escape will start to wilt and wither. And though you never intended, she's right.

One morning, you awake to a shriveled garden outside your balcony.

And a very angry father.

"What the hell happened here!" he shouts, storming out of the doors below your perch and into the supposed greenery. His eyes are wild and angry, nostrils enlarged as he fumes at the groundskeeper for not doing his job properly for a full five minutes.

You'd been on the end of that rage yourself. Not wanting to be caught in the cross-fire, you pull back the curtain and shield yourself from his view.

"Sire, it's become a terribly dry year," the groundskeeper says, giving one last attempt to console your father. "Everyone is suffering. It's part of the reason that the Third Estate is so restless."

"I don't care about the peasantry!" he bellows. "The Third Estate is the scourge of France. The only reason they exist is to keep the wheels greased and the treasury full. Drought or not, my garden should be blossoming. You find someone else that can properly do your job and you make yourself scarce! I never want to see your face again!"

Your grandmother finds you on the floor next to your balcony window, partially shielded by the curtains. She gives you a soft expression, extending her hand to you to help you to your feet.

"It's growing again, Grandmère," you whisper. "My spells are getting more powerful. I—I almost killed the garden this time. If Père ever found out..."

Your sentence trails off, and Grandmère puts her palm against your cheek. "Mon cherie, if you ever get the chance to leave this place, promise me that you'll take it and never look back."

"But I wouldn't leave y—"

The elderly woman shakes her head, moving a single finger to your lips. "—Never look back. Promise me."

Despite yourself, you nod once, and your grandmother places a kiss on your forehead.

True to his word, before the week is over, the usual groundskeeper is nowhere in sight and a new one has taken his place. You meet him while in the garden, though the last thing you expected was for a boy your age to sneak up on you while you were collecting a few herbs for your next spell.

"You must be Princess [Y/n]?"

Jumping back, you turn and face the strange man with wide eyes and hands clasped tightly around a handful of Mimosa blossoms, Yucca leaves, and Life Everlasting blooms. 

The person standing in front of you isn't bad looking. Quite the opposite. He has an alluring aura about him that goes beyond the wavy black hair and honey skin. Behind his warm eyes and boxy smile, there's a uniqueness to him that you've never seen before. Even with a mother that wasn't French, you'd never seen someone like him.

"Who the hell are you?"

The man smirks a little before responding. "I'm the new groundskeeper? Your father hired me this morning. I hate to think of what happened to the other one. I saw him leave through the front gate when I arrived. He didn't look the best."

Your eyes soften, and your guard drops. "If you knew this job was going to be hard, if you knew my father was cruel, why did you take it?"

"We all have our reasons, right?" He gestures to your hands. "Such as why you're holding all of the living things left in this place?"

You shove the flowers and herbs into the pocket of the white apron, laid over your casual dress. "This is my garden, Monsieur..."

"Kim. Kim Taehyung."

"You're not from France, are you, Monsieur Kim?"

"What gave it away?" You gesture to all of him, which makes Taehyung laugh.

"Well, if we were going by appearances, I never would've known you were the lord's daughter. You're dressed like a servant."

"You called me 'princess.'" Your head tilts to the side, eyebrows pulling together. "I have no such title...but how did you know I was his daughter?"

Taehyung shrugs and nods to your open balcony door. "I saw you this morning while you were reading on the balcony."

Your face pulled into a scowl. "Why you—"

Taehyung raises his hands in mock surrender, the smile never faltering. "Calm down, Princess. All I'm saying is that you might want to keep your doors closed. You never know when someone might be peaking in."

From that day onward, an unlikely friendship blossoms between you Taehyung. The man is odd, there's no doubt about that, but he's just about the only normal person in your life. The only one you've ever known, actually. He's real and kind and lovely in every possible way.

He comes to the Chateau several times a week for the next several months in an attempt to get the garden back to normal. The winter had been cruel, and the drought unforgiving, but Taehyung brought with him knowledge from other lands, especially from his homeland of Korea. If you hadn't had him explain the science behind his tricks of the trade, you would have thought he had magic in him, too.

"You have to irrigate them well, starting at the upward slopes so that the water can drain back down. Use gravity to our advantage. Then the new system I created will take the excess and bring it to the herbs, which tend to be more resilient than Mimosa, Yucca, or Life Everlasting."

You stare at him with wide eyes of curiosity, watching him as he takes water from the well and pours it into the starting container of the extensive irrigation system. The pipeline crawls all over the garden, out of sight as to not distract the eyes from the beauty. The precious liquid flows and forks into the various braches, giving lifeblood back to the garden.

"I've also been adding phosphorus to the soil," he tells you, placing a hand on his hip with a pleased expression. "That should aid the root systems so that water can be absorbed easier."

You shake your head, amazed and awestruck at what he'd accomplished in a short few months. Turning to Taehyung, you throw your arms around him and hold him tight.

"You're magic, Taehyung. Just magic!"

He laughs at your sudden outburst and embraces you tightly to him. "It helps when you're from a family of farmers. Not magic, Princess, just practice."

Spring comes with thunderous applause and unconfronted feelings. The rain stays, but Taehyung's ingenuity has all but brought the Chateau's surroundings back to life.

Your beloved garden blooms, as does your love for its savior—both of which despite your magic, not because of it.

As spring marches forward, you find yourself spending more and more time together. And while it was as friends or mutual curiosity before, these days you spend in the garden are more than that. There's an underlying yearning for each other, but for reasons you both know, neither of you moves on it.

"Isn't your birthday coming up?" Taehyung asks, out of the blue, one afternoon. He's sorting through the various seeds that he'd purchased using the allowance your father gave him, kneeling down beside the arrangements on the ground.

Reclining against one of the Mimosa trees, you place the pen and paper on your lap. You'd been messing around with a spell idea for a few weeks now, but it's been difficult to get it onto paper. Being with him in the garden aways brought about inspiration, so you came prepared today.

"I overheard some of the staff discussing it," he adds, seeing the question on your face before you verbalize it. "How old will you be?"

You sigh, "Twenty-one."

Taehyung sorts the rose seeds from the marigolds, ensuring that the two plants don't end up in the same soil, which he says will ensure both of them die early on. "Why do you sound so glum about it? Isn't your birthday worth celebrating?"

The side of your mouth tugs into a tiny smile at the sweetness of his last sentence. "Not when your father's insisting that he find a suitable groom for you once you turn twenty-one."

The dark-haired man's hands halt suddenly, his eyes transfixed on the layout in front of him. He slumps back, resting his weight entirely on his knees and lower legs. "And you're not happy about that."

You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself. "Not at all. Especially since I have a sinking feeling I know who his selection will be. He's a son of a wealthy lord on the other side of the Seine. It would be a strategic marriage, completely in my father's favor."

"You don't love him." His observation is not a question.

"Of course not," you scoff. "I hardly know him. I've only met him a few times. He's the last person on earth that I would pick to marry."

Taehyung finally shifts his gaze from the seeds to your face, meeting your eyes. "Who's the first then, Princess?"

His question catches you off-guard and brings heat into your cheeks. "I—I hadn't thought about it, didn't have anyone in particular in mind. Only for love. That's my only requirement."

The foreigner nods once then relinquishes his intense gaze, seemingly satisfied with your reply.

There's a pause before you continue. "This is exactly what happened to my mother. She wasn't French, a foreigner who married my father because it was beneficial. She was forced into this marriage and died in childbirth."

"That's terrible," he murmurs. "I'm so sorry."

You offer a grateful nod, turning your eyes to the clear blue sky. "Taehyung...have you ever thought about running away?" The question comes out of you, surprising you with your honesty. It's as if it has a mind of its own.

Taehyung cracks a smile. "Princess, I've been running my whole life. I ran away from my hometown to travel the world, to see it all. Never thought I'd end up stuck in France, in Paris of all places, and yet I'm still trying to run towards the New World."

You turn to stare at him in awe. "You're so brave. I don't know if I could do that."

"Do you want to?"

"Of course. I want to be free from this place, free from the future my father has set up for me. My greatest fear is becoming my mother, engaged to a man I don't love and dead after giving birth. My mother wanted the same thing, but she died before she could arrange it. I was lucky to survive being born. Grandmère tells me that I lived because of—"

You catch yourself before you continue, knowing that this story goes into a secret that only you and your grandmother carry with you. You've never told another soul about your magic, not one. Not even your father knows. What would he think if he did? Or worse, what would Taehyung think? Would he think you a freak, something wicked, a pawn of the devil?

"Because of...?" Taehyung prompts. He sees your hesitation in your bit lower lip and shifting gaze. "You can tell me, [Y/n]. Whatever it is, you can trust me."

Taehyung almost never calls you by your real name. It's almost always "Princess." That little bit of reassurance pushes you to continue your story. If this relationship is going to go forward at all, it's time.

Now or never.

"Grandmère tells me that I survived because of my mother's final...final spell. A spell of love."

The brunet tilts his head curiously, obviously not expecting that continuance. "A spell?"

You nod, trying to keep your nervous voice even and controlled. "My mother's family has a secret, one that's passed down from generation to generation. We're witches. Magic runs in our veins. I've been magical all my life, but the past year or so, my power has grown a lot. I've been practicing and trying to get a handle on it, and Grandmère has been teaching me, but sometimes that power is...too much."

His gaze softens as a smile of realization tugs at his mouth. "Hence the garden suddenly wilting overnight. I thought there was more involved than the drought."

Your breath catches in your lungs as Taehyung puts the pieces together. "You're not freaked out? You don't think I'm evil?"

"No," he laughs, scooting closer as to sit in front of you. "Why would I think that? Back home, we have soothsayers and card readers and all kinds of magically-inclined people. I don't think you're evil or anything of the sort."

A wave of relief washes over you, and you slouch back against the tree. Your companion gives an amused chuckle at your state, but you're too drained to make a comment."But if there was magic involved, then the garden shouldn't have come back on its own, even with my help. Did you, I don't know, cast a spell to heal it?"

You shake your head and sit straight once again. "Nothing of the kind. I think...I think it had something to do with you."

"Me?" he asks, surprised.

You nod. "The more time I spent with you, the better you made me feel, the more of a friendship bond we created, the more I felt my magic wane. In a good way! I felt balanced, for the first time in my entire life, and then the garden started to bloom again. I can't explain it. It's like you made me feel like I was safe enough to express magic in a healthy way, not just in a way that could destroy."

Your heartfelt confession makes Taehyung lift his hand to your cheek, cradling your face in a tender way that only your grandmother has. "And you said I was the magical one. Princess, I've got nothing on you." He leans in closer, his warm breath brushing against your face. "Can I kiss y—"

"—Yes."

Taehyung chuckles and closes the distance between you. His lips graze yours, hesitant at first. His are soft and delicate, just as you'd imagined they would be. The hands cupping your face pull you closer, and yours move to his shoulder to balance yourself. Though gentle, the gentle push and shove causes you to smile into the kiss.

It doesn't take long for the gesture to shift from shy to needy, from sweet to passionate. All the pent up emotions you'd both kept inside these past few months come pouring out in the form of hands on waists and hips, fingers desperately gripping clothing and grazing skin, teeth greedily nipping at lips and elsewhere on the face. Taehyung is a passionate individual, but you never really knew how much until now.

Moving closer to you, he pulls you into his lap, adjusting your dress as to let your legs slide to either side of his hips. Pulling you ever closer, he continues to fight for dominance. One hand shifts from your waist to your neck, tangling in the hair at the base of your neck. You slide your fingers through his hair, inadvertently tugging at a few curls and dragging an unconscious sigh from Taehyung.

After a few moments, the brunet pulls back. Both of you come up for air, breathing heavily and feeling dizzy. A euphoric feeling rushes through your body, something much closer to magic than you've ever felt. All around you, new flowers begin to bloom. Taehyung's gaze flickers from you to the new flora around you, watching in awe as the flowers grow taller to encase you both in a cradle of spring.

And it's there—in Taehyung's arms, sitting in the middle of a revived garden—that you realize you've fallen in love with him.

His next words come out softer and more tender than anything you've never heard. "Come with me."

"Tae..."

He shakes his head, resting his forehead against yours. "Don't do that."

"Where could we go?" you reply. "France is falling apart. The Third Estate is going to rebel before summer's end; it's all anyone can talk about. There's not a place on earth that my father won't find me. Find us. You know what becomes of us both if that happens."

Taehyung brushes the tears away from your eyes with his thumbs. "He can't follow us across the sea."

The weight of his offer hits you. The sea. The New World. America. Could it really be true? Could it really happen? Freedom and love and life, all at once?

"What about Grandmère? I couldn't just leave her here with that monster."

"Then we'll take her, too!" He presses another kiss to your mouth, pulling back after a brief moment. "I'll have the money by the end of July. That's not too far away. I will do anything to keep you safe, Princess. Anything. Run away with me. We can start over. I've fallen in love with you over these past months, and I know you feel the same."

You nod fervently. "I do, but..."

"But what? But nothing. You said it yourself: if you stay here, your future is that of your mother's. Wouldn't she want you to spare yourself of it?" His hands cupping your face tighten ever so slightly as he sees his argument making an impact. "Come with me. I can protect you. I love you, magic or none. Don't make me lose you."

"I love you, too."

"Say you'll come. Say you'll run away with me."

Heaving a heavy sigh, your place your hands over his and look him in the eyes. "I'll go anywhere with you."

[herinterface]

> # @itsasset:  [LOOK] your muse is caught looking at my muse > # ask meme: this was from months ago 🤷🏻‍♀️

she remained tucked away   behind the crowd backed up in a booth along with her company,   her fingers pressing into the stem of her glass.         she’d noticed her the minute she’d walked in,   she’d been waiting after all.          it didn’t matter that there were groups of people obscuring her slightly,       or that her hair was still down from her shift;     she was as familiar with the way she carried herself,      assured,   light on her feet as she weaved effortlessly through the crowd,      how she held herself,   the straightness of her back,      just as she was with just the  language of her body when it was completely exposed beneath her,       shaking    &   tensing as it simultaneously begged her to continue as it did to stop.          she knew her better than anyone else,    &   so she knew what some people might call a   coincidence,   them winding up at the same bar on the same night, she would call it memorising shaw’s unconscious rotation of dives to visit on the shadow map,   &   calculating the one she was most likely to visit on a friday night.  

she could see why she liked the place.    it was simple,   no fancy drinks,       busy but not overcrowded,    though the menu comprising of only peanuts and chicken wings she’d have to call into question.        she supposed  it got the job done,   considering she was currently letting her eyes run down the outline of shaw’s back,      where she sat at the bar near someone trying to play his cards right with her.         her access to shaw’s expression was cut off from the angle so she occupied herself with analysing him instead as her own date droned on.           he was handsome,  objectively.   short hair, faded cleanly across his head,          strong enough that it was visible under the tight shirt he’d worn just for this purpose,       if one was into that.            there was a confidence in his eyes that no doubt would cause her to bite.              she could just imagine the look on her face,       the curiosity sitting underneath,   the slight tick of interest,   that to her always seemed to beam right at her,    like a  blinding signal to press forward when it was directed at her.       &  she was sure it helped that it had been over a month since she’d been in town to occupy the position he was currently trying,    &   would inevitably fail,    to fill.       it would be cute to see him try,   though,   especially with the parting gifts she’d left her with   (  welts  &   bruises covering the surface of smooth skin she was currently gazing at, recalling exactly where she’d left them  ).  

she’d been kept inordinately busy by her last two identities,       busy enough that she could ignore the occasional tightness     in her chest that came from living through a war without the right tools   (   the assurance of Her voice  )    to keep up to date with the others.            most of the time,   her identities changed quick enough to fill slow forming hole of negative emotions-------- loneliness,   concern,   the utter pessimism that washed over her  ------   &  then she had other things to worry about.         it was easier sometimes,   staying away,   letting herself be absorbed into her persona rather than her own concerns,   needs.             that way she could simply take glances at the others,               easing the dread off her shoulders she hadn’t noticed was there by bringing up footage     of the police department       on the taxi ride from her flight, dropping by the subway where harold was for a quick change of outfits,      something befitting of her character’s date.           she’d left a confused harold gaping,  confused at her attire,    the low cut silk shirt,         completely backless but for a tie across the small of her back,   tight jeans  &  heels,   --------------- finished with a glittery gloss that tasted like strawberries    &   reminded her women she’d spent the night with,    who had been so irrelevant       she’d deleted their names from her mind the second she’d left their hotel room.      she felt like nobody too,   that night,    the silence in her ear creating a cold emptiness she couldn’t dismiss.     nevertheless,   she’d let harold go on about their current number,        offering her two-cents before she smiled,      waved her fingers in the air      &       called back,   “  oh,  &  tell sameen i said hi. ”

but of course she had her own plans to do that,            or at the very least check in in person,    from a distance.    it was nice,       to pretend this was all some game rather than just an attempt to lay eyes on her,   alive   &   in one piece   (   not that they didn’t both see through it by then,   it just remained unspoken for a reason  ).          but from the moment she’d walked into the bar,       no doubt motivated by her extra long shift that day  (  from open until a late close,   they were short staffed  ),             her tongue had drawn across her lips at the thought of getting her hands     on some of that pent up frustration.     it had always been a talent of hers,    along with lovingly tending to that frustration herself of course.      she’d had a visceral reaction to the idea of her hot skin pressed against hers,           her breath almost stalled at the idea of her nails digging into the skin over shaw’s heart,                feeling it   beating wildly as she manipulated it to her will instead of worrying endlessly about the way their enemies might,    how they might end its unforgettable rhythm completely.         but she had work to do,    &   it was surprisingly easy,     to keep her distance           (   it was easy when she knew shaw,        knew she wouldn’t need to be the one to approach  ).   

the night crawled along slowly,    but even with her eyes cast directly at her company she could feel it  the moment she was spotted.        it was effortless,   the way she hid her smirk behind her glass,     not making eye contact with her as she continued her ruse.        her perfect act was never dropped even as she watched her date down his fourth drink with disdain for the smell of the beer on his breath.         she could tell all the physicals signs of his slow but sure inebriation,      but who was she to complain when it made her part easier to play                human vices had a way of doing that.  so she tipped her face down to smile,   taken with something he’d said but appearing to try to hold it back.                &   when he asked her the inevitable question,    the one she’d been waiting for,   she tried to play at momentary reluctance about going home with someone after the first date,            so that it seemed like she was breaking her rules for him.          making someone feel special when they were nothing but another sheep in the flock was a surefire way of forcing their guard down.

that was what brought her to the bathroom before they made their exit,        knowing from the sharp tension she’d noted in shaw’s spine,       the way she’d avoided looking over again after the first time,      the grip around her glass,          that she’d played a perfect game.          which was why it was no surprise to see shaw walk into the women’s room after her,          her form appearing in the corner of the mirror she was currently staring into as she fixed her lip gloss.               the clipped way she said her name,        the way her frustration protruded from her seemingly calm demeanour as she questioned her presence here shot heat throughout her body instantly.         she revelled in her surprise     &   confusion,   of catching her off-guard,    soaked up the moment of bliss where everything aligned perfectly,    because she knew her so well,          “  hi  to you too,   ”   she sung back,      responding with an almost irritated quirk in her lips as she held the brush to her lips.

when shaw pressed the question again,       she slid the applicator back into its case,    lips sliding against each other as she refrained from turning around,    “  i’m not here to ruin your date, sameen,   if that’s what you’re worried about, ”        a truly amused smile was brought to her lips at the thought,           “    besides,   we won’t be staying much longer.  ”         she could feel the tension  that existed,       a silence befalling them.        it was strange,     going from appearing at shaw’s apartment every week or so to weeks of silence on all fronts.         it had been as freeing as it was suffocating,    being herself finally in the privacy of shaw’s apartment,                  in the midst of her whirlwind identities.       now she just felt utterly untethered,   lost.        the strawberry taste on her tongue was unpleasant,    as it whispered to her that she was no different to the rest of them out there,   flawed,    irrelevant,     &  sickeningly powerless to stop what was inevitably coming for all of them.  

but it was fun pretending that she wasn’t here for her.   that shaw,   storming her way into the women’s bathroom while in the middle of a promising exchange,     was the one who had orchestrated this meeting.       it must be fun for her too,   to ignore the fact that she cared,            or at least,    that after all these weeks leaving the space in her bed empty,        that it bothered her to see her back in town the one night she’d decided to do something about it.         she wouldn’t be the one to burst the illusion,      especially when  they were holed up where even god couldn’t see them,         Her divine light barely faint enough to make out,     seconds away from death if they were caught,   if there was one glitch,     if they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.    

“ we should double date some time,”      she called out before she finally looked over her shoulder,    a wicked look in her eyes.                         &    when the question of her appearance here  of all places,          came out again she finally turned around slowly,      her bare back hitting the cold sink        as she levelled her with the same question,   “  what brings you  here,  sam ? ”       &   she was curious as to why she’d followed her in here,         even if she knew they operated like magnets with ever changing polarities,      sometimes skirting around each other,        as close as they could while forces kept them apart,   while other times  they collided without hesitation.    it was all about the timing.      their answer to the question was the same,    she was almost sure,   so she decided to answer it for her.

a glittering smirk lifted at her lips,   as she stepped forward,    off the sink,     exposed shoulders shrugging,  “   did you come for my  approval  ? ”           arms crossing over her chest as she meandered forward, the delight in her features only brightening at a different thought,   “  or disapproval  ?   ”   she said,  her eyes meeting hers with a perverse interest in the idea. 

her show of disappointment cast a thin veil over her         obvious enjoyment as she leaned closer,    “    unfortunately,    i don’t have time to play the jealous ex right now,   as much as I’d love to make an appearance,  ”   she sighed,       &   she left it to shaw to imagine what that might look like,        while also happily supplying breadcrumbs from the twisted idea that had formed in her head,                      “     i  haven’t  gotten to incapacitate someone in a while.         &   it’d be fun,    tying him up,   making him watch,       letting him see all the ways you’re still mine,  ”   she offered with a logical tone,      but it was hard to see the distinction between the act she was proposing   &   real life,  “  don’t you think ?  ”

she was seconds away from tilting her head,  deploying a pout as she proposed a rain check when she realised how close she’d gotten.        she’d naturally filled all   &   any space shaw had to herself,    gazing down at her .              despite the act,   she knew was still exposing parts of self around shaw,      she couldn’t help herself ------  bone tired,   weary from her guard always being up,     &   with a longing she couldn’t get a hold of as she stared at her lips.              without Her around,   she felt so purposeless,   powerless,     just like the rest of human kind.            she couldn’t do this alone,   as harold had pointed out,        &   she wanted her,    needed her,    so why shouldn’t she take what she wanted  ?    what they both wanted.  

she could practically feel shaw’s eyes as they all but glared up at her.         she might know her inside out,    but she had let shaw in too,    &   she knew enough,       maybe enough to know she was afraid.           she was desperate for a place to work through things,    to centre herself again so that she could keep going as someone else,    to feel more in control of the chaos,       to feel safe,     if that was even possible,   for one night.         so when she leant down   &   reached for the door shaw was blocking,  she just decided to give in.        her mouth found her ear as it always did,    her fingers climbing their way up her spine instead of reaching for the doorknob,       “  later,    at yours.    whenever you’re finished playing,  ”       &   her finger caught a strand of her hair,   twirling it before pulling just gently,       “   wait for me,     with your clothes off,   sameen. ”

although she begun leaning back,        her face dipped forward again with sticky lips parted into a smile,          her hand pressing against her waist as she spoke,        “    &  think   about me,  ”       speaking with just the right amount of command as there was the insufferable pleasure she took from infecting her thoughts before she was about to go to bed with someone else.      she curved her body around shaw’s, purposefully brushing skin against skin on her way out, &  personally clinging onto the hour where she could break into her apartment.

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 44: Archival

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Forty-Four: Archival 

Notes: Hey everyone, sorry I had to push back the last chapter on such short notice! I just honestly forgot how many days it was until my mom’s birthday and I wanted to give her all of my attention! Thanks for all the birthday wishes! She loved them!

(-~-)

The next day…  

Honestly, the youngest living descendant of the Dark Knight Sparda couldn’t remember the last time that he’d seen snow outside of the Lamina mountain range. It had truly been a sight to see when they had arrived just a few hours ago at the crack of dawn, long before the majority of the townspeople had crawled out of their beds and made their way into the streets. They would be in for a rude awakening, much as poor Kyrie had been when he’d accidentally woken her up so early.

When the van had pulled up in front of the house, he had been surprised to see Kyrie standing in the doorway less than a minute later, clearly barely awake and not fully registering just how cold it was outside. The poor young woman had her robe halfway on, the cool night air kissing her exposed skin. To say that she was not thermally prepared for a light blizzard would be a bit of an understatement.

She’d nearly tripped down the stairs as she met Nero halfway, nearly leaping on him in excitement as she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. No one needed to ask if she had missed him during his time away or if the young songstress had been worried about him. It was clear for anyone to see that she had nothing but love in her heart for Nero.

Kyrie had greeted V warmly as well, noting that it had been some time since she’d seen him, and that she hoped that things had been well for him in the interim. The young summoner had decided against mentioning his new ailment to her, preferring to not give her something else to worry about. Literally everything and everyone else was enough already. Instead, he simply reassured her that he was more or less content, something that wasn’t a lie. Curse or otherwise, he was at peace for perhaps the first time in his entire life. He would relish that. 

After wishing her well, he, Nico, and Flora boarded the van again and headed back to the mainland, stating that they needed to do something with the scroll that Magnolia’s sister had gifted V after they dropped Dante off at his office. He had been asleep the entire time in the back of the van, and considering the circumstances, they had collectively chosen not to awaken him. Nero and Kryie wished them a safe trip and told them that they would contact the rest of the group if they happened to hear from Vergil, and then they went inside, eager to spend some quality time with one another for at least a few hours. That was the most that they were going to get with three kids in the house.

But now hours later, he was headed towards the last place that he wanted to set foot in again in order to complete an errand that V had requested of him. And he would have company. Apparently, there was still some work to be done at Fortuna castle, this time on behalf of the Ludwig family. It seemed that both they and V were keen to preserve as many of the books in the private library as possible. Admirable enough on paper, but still a miserable trek through the snow either way.

Just as he approached the ruined front gate to the castle’s bridge, a familiar face emerged from the frosty fog a few yards ahead of him, seemingly unperturbed by the extreme circumstances. It was Sirrus, here at the behest of both parties involved to help him do… something. Nero wasn’t sure he really truly understood, but he was certain that the adjudicator probably did and that he could fill him in while they headed towards the library. He wasn’t even going to ask how he beat him there. He’d been at the Ludwig estate long enough to know the answer to that question.

“Well, aren’t we a sight for sore eyes? It’s good to see you again so soon, Nero.” “I hope you’ll pardon my temporary departure. I had to go speak with my superiors. They summoned me, so there was no avoiding it, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, Sirrus. So that’s where you went right before we left, hu? Makes sense, I guess. How did it go, then?” Nero had had the feeling when they’d told him he’d be working with one of them again soon that it would be the powerful redhead with the dry humor, and it turned out he had been correct. Score one for Nero.

“Oh, I’d say it did. They don’t trust me as far as they can throw me, but that just comes with the territory, I’m afraid. But we can talk about it in more detail once we’re inside. This frigid wind isn’t exactly unfamiliar, but it’s still a bit much. I’m not keen on staying exposed to the elements for any longer than I have to be.”

Nero nodded. Now that was something that they could agree on. He just hoped that the swarm of cutlass that had been here last time had taken up residence somewhere else, or at least retreated back into the depths of Agnus’s laboratory. He didn’t feel like shooting every demon in this damn castle again. He had things to do today.

(-~-) 

In truth, the marking made no sense to him. 

Whatever Sirrus was doing seemed completely foreign and mystical to him, probably because it involved the use of some more arcane knowledge that he hadn’t the slightest idea about. He’d never even known that something like this existed until just recently, so seeing someone actually perform it was entirely new. In truth, he’d seen evidence of its presence in action before in this very castle when one took into account the many elaborate puzzles and traps that seemed to utilize an unknown source of power, but he hadn’t really put much thought into it at the time. 

But now? Well, he couldn’t help but wonder who had put them in place. Surely someone from the Order, but that didn’t mean much in regards to figuring out who actually did it. He didn’t know most of the people in the higher echelons of the ill-fated Order of the Sword. That was by design. And as for what they were capable of and where some of them had disappeared to after things had gone down the way that they had? He was none the wiser. But he wished that he knew. He had some choice words for them. And probably a few bullets.

“So… how does this work? I mean, if you can do that, then why not just go back and forth to wherever you want to go like this?” Nero watched curiously as Sirrus fiddled with some sort of book, marking out a circle with several symbols upon it on the floor. A triangle overlapped it, forming a curious visual that he couldn’t say he’d seen before. The Adjudicator glanced up at him for a moment, seemingly acknowledging that he was benign spoken to but unable to maintain eye contact.

“As much as I’d love to, that’s not how this works. Only inanimate objects can pass through a portal such as this, and it requires two people in two different locations to just to be opened in the first place and to remain stable” Sirrus shrugged nonchalantly, working on some sort of symbol that he was marking out on the floor with white chalk. Nero had no idea what it meant, but he knew that it had to be magic in some way, shape, or form. “Your father’s blade is undeniably unique. It honestly fascinates me. I’d ask him to take a look, but I worry based on his rather unique answering conventions that he might literally give me exactly what I’m asking for.”

He went quiet for a short while at the mention of Vergil. It hadn’t really occurred to him until then that he actually missed his somewhat short-tempered and unpredictable father. None of them had yet to hear anything back from Vergil, and that fact alone was cause for concern. It wasn’t so much that he was the sort to check-in and ask for permission to complete a task. Far from it. But at least they normally knew where he was headed.

“You're probably in the clear. He only stabs people he’s related to these days. Well mostly. I even saw him spare someone once who helped kidnap V. Couldn’t tell you what was going through his head at the time, but he’s okay some of the time.” Nero allowed his mind to wander for a moment, pondering his wayward father’s current location. He couldn’t imagine that he was in danger. After all, he had been through worse before, and this time he at least had Yamato. Surely he would return soon. 

And yet… 

“Do you think I should be worried that he’s not back yet?”

“Sighing softly, Sirrus took a moment to consider his question before shaking his head. “If he indeed went to where you think he might have, then I suspect not. Time works differently across the Trinity of Realities, and I suspect that very little time has passed wherever he is, if any at all. There are rare places where time simply doesn’t seem to pass at all.”

“No shit, really? I heard something like that but… ” He stopped. Not really sure what else to say. They nodded to one another and then returned to sorting out the book in the room. It was best that they keep their minds busy.

Adding additional food for thought, Sirrus spoke again. “And unlike my father, yours seems to possess the capacity to actually care about another living being. He seems to find it trying a considerable majority of the time, but he possesses the desire to love and be loved nonetheless. There is hope yet for him. I think you’re in a good place. I like to hope that whatever tension there is between you can be worked out in the end.”

“I hope you're right. Any chance of working it out with yours?”

A humorless look crossed his face. As he looked through the younger devil hunter instead of at him, seeing him but at the same time, not seeing him at all. It was as if his eyes and his brain were not fully communicating. He fell quiet for a moment, fidgeting slightly. “... I’m afraid not. Any hope of that outcome dissolved after what happened between him and Aluta.”

Nero knew enough to not press the issue any further, even if he was somewhat quiet. After close to a minute of silence, Sirrus glanced at him momentarily before speaking again, not keen on keeping whatever was on his mind buried there any longer.

“Generally speaking, it’s in poor taste to date someone younger than your own children. If nothing else, it causes a fair bit of tension.”

Taking a moment to register that statement, Nero continued to try and organize the books, eager to not spend the entire day in this library. As much as he knew that V would disagree with his sentiments, he had to admit that he was glad that most of the books were old and damaged in this part of the library. There were at least a dozen extra-large moving boxes filled with books, each one weighing about a hundred pounds.

Oh, how Nero hoped that his brother wouldn’t find a way to hurt himself by moving them around his house. But deep down, he knew that he would. It wasn’t so much that V was clumsy as it was that he was simply unfortunate, and if his little move had gone the way that it had, he was sure that this would go much the same. Or perhaps he would learn from his previous mistakes and opt into a much more cautious approach this time around? Who was to say? He was smart, after all, and Flora was there to assist him. He could only imagine that, given the size of V’s house, that they would be taking the majority of the books. That was probably for the best, all things considered. V would get nothing done with that many books in his house.

Nero then paused for a moment, his brow furrowing as something occurred to him that hadn’t until just then. He turned and looked over at Sirrus, registering the fact that he was quickly sorting through an entire bookshelf and stacking the books into two different boxes. Nero had been doing the same, but at a much slower rate. It turned out that it was difficult to categorize and sort books that you couldn’t fucking read. Big surprise there.

“Hold on a second… Did you just say…”

“That I am older than Aluta? Yes. Yes, I did. Because I am.” Sirrus chuckled slightly, continuing to pick up books, gently flip through them, and then place them into their requisite boxes. He seemed to find something enormously entertaining about Nero’s flabbergasted demeanor, carefully concealing his amusement so as to not come off as a smug jerk. Well, at least not more than he was sure he already did most of the time. He silently hoped that he wasn’t actually as insufferable as he assumed that he was. He just lacked social skills.

Leaning over to take a closer look at the smarmy redhead, the youngest Descendant of Sparda made no effort to conceal his deep-seated confusion at this revelation. How could that be possible? Sirrus looked the same age that he and V looked, and while Aluta didn’t look particularly old herself, he knew that she had to be at least old enough to be his mother due to the singular fact Vergil had known her as a teen when he himself had been one at the same time, albeit slightly older than her. For him to be even a year older than her implied that he aged even better than Vergil, and that didn’t seem physically possible for a normal human being.

Oh, that was right. Sirrus had stated before that he wasn’t human, hadn’t he? Back on Vie De Marli What had his words been back then? “I am not what you are” or something like that? He’d implied early into their working relationship that he wasn’t even remotely human, so that made the possibility of him being something capable of living longer and aging slower logical. But then that once again raised the question as to what he actually was. Nero couldn’t think of any other beings in their world that looked so… human. If he wasn’t technically a demon and he wasn’t at all human, then what the hell was he? What else was there?

Clearly noticing that Nero was staring him up and down like he’d grown a second head, Sirrus laughed in earnest. It wasn’t every day that he got to see someone look at him like that. Most of the people that he spent time around didn’t know enough about him to even inquire into things like his age. At most, he was occasionally asked about his accent if he allowed it to slip, but aside from that, people didn’t really give a damn about his personal life. Or him, for that matter. Adjudicators worked solo on most endeavors. They had no reason to get to know one another.

“You seem shocked to have learned this, Nero. Do I look a bit young for my age?”

Giving him a sideways look, Nero looked down at the floor for a moment before shaking his head and sighing, returning to stacking books. This had been a weird few weeks. No doubt about it. Ever since the Redgrave Incident, he’d had a very hard time understanding what was going on. So much had been thrown at him all at once, and he was still grappling with a good deal of it.

“Poor V,” He thought to himself. “I’ve got it pretty rough, but he was just minding his own business walking around, and then he just woke up in the middle of this nightmare. He had to do whatever he could just to stay alive, and then to find out that he wasn’t even totally human and then die and come back just for this stupid demon prince bastard to come after him? He doesn’t deserve any of this. Neither of us does.”

But they were going to work it out. Of that, he was sure. And this somehow would assist in that endeavor. When V had told the Ludwigs about these books, they had seemed very interested, and he genuinely hoped that they did find something interesting or useful about their opponent in these volumes. At the very least, relocating them somewhere more secure so that they were out of the hands of undesirables forever was a good place to start. All they would do is sit here and rot if anyone worth their salt in Fortuna had anything to say about it.

“Smartass,” Nero said with a genuine laugh, admittedly somewhat amused by Sirrus’s extremely sarcastic and rhetorical question. Slowly but surely he was starting to understand his dry sense of humor. Or, at least, he was starting to understand why V understood it so well. The two of them seemed to get along pretty well. Nero was glad that his slightly older sibling seemed to have made something close to a friend. He could be so unintentionally antisocial at times despite the fact that he knew deep down that V didn’t want to be and probably just wanted companionship. Poor guy.

“What can I say, you're not wrong,” Sirrus said with a soft laugh, smiling gently but with a slight tinge of something else. Was that sadness? It was difficult to say. Despite his normally straightforward demeanor, he was hard to read. “Let’s finish up here and head back to the mainland. I have something that I think might help lift you and your brother’s spirits a bit. We could all use a distraction from time to time. What do you say?”

Nero shrugged, more or less fine with that option. He could always double back with Nico once they were finished. They couldn’t really do much more until they found out where his father had disappeared to, anyway. Right now, everything hinged on his return. None of them were going to formulate a plan that he wasn’t included in. He and V knew the most about their opponent. For now, they would bide their time and try to remain reasonably calm.

“You know what? Fine by me. Let’s go. V needs to get out of the house and go do something. I think he’s starting to develop a phobia of stores or something.”

(-~-)

Wow, this one was on time for some reason. I don’t understand what happened. By the way, for those of you who read Saudade, this is the night where they go to the furniture store and Sirrus covertly buys V all that furniture. I figured that some of you might be wondering that. What’s that? None of you were? Oh. Well, anyway-

Happy Wednesday or whatever! Hope you’ve had a good week so far. I’ve been trying to branch out into freelance writing because I live in a conservative anti-vax hellhole where people protest the administration of a vaccine at all, refused to wear masks despite being one of the highest case areas in the entire country, and I refuse to work another low paying retail or fast food job and put my fragile lungs in harm's way only to still not be able to afford my rent. 

I’ll keep you all posted on that in case it means I have to shift the upload schedule. It probably won’t, but I just thought I’d let you know.  Let me know if any of you have any pointers or advice in regards to working in that field. Oh, and don’t worry, the books are still happening. I’m just building the ordering system. See you in the comments!