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rapturously · 29 days ago

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𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟, 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞.

┊ count orlok x fem!reader.

✠⠀༷ ゜ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: after uncovering an heirloom thought to be long-buried and forgotten to time, your flesh is joined as one with the enigmatic count.

read part one here.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.0K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy smut, willing consent, vampire antics (bloodplay, blood drinking, scent kink), extreme possessive & obsessive behavior, biting, scratching, making out, tearing clothing, unprotected p in v sex, loss of virginity, sex with a rotting vampire, cunnilingus, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, title kink (use of my lord), dracula references, a relationship based on lust/obsession/possession and not love.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: writing this has given me joy about writing again & it’s a fantastic feeling! loved working on this fic! thank you to everyone who has shown such love and support for my work, this is why I write and it means a lot to me! I hope you guys enjoy!

𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

Each night since he had first fed from you followed a similar pattern, lulled into a sensual subservience by his shadow, soothed by the allure of his voice. There was an innate lack of physicality that perplexed you, as if he were waiting for something else.

This enforced isolation by daylight allowed you to traverse the castle grounds, to explore the hallowed halls of this macabre mausoleum — you never felt truly alone. His presence stayed with you, a shadow haunting your steps.

Beneath the crunch of frozen undergrowth, you wandered. Within the shroud of the Carpathian Mountains, the fortress had seemed monumental, but in the flesh, it was smaller, a labyrinth of stone. It gave you ample time to admire the architecture and study his home.

The village became a mere afterthought, abandoned to the recesses of your mind, buried away, never to be uncovered. Your Lord was not physically present, more often than not, and you began to burn for his touch.

Phantom caresses and arduous visions could only sustain your craving for him for so long. He was not unkind, simply aloof and enigmatic, a being that seemed to give you everything you wanted, and nothing at all.

He had swathed you in clothing finer than you could ever imagine, fit for a noblewoman, lavished you in fine trappings and allowed you your own chambers. Even then, you wanted more — you wanted to be with him, beseech him to stay.

Wisps of warmth emerged from your lips as you stepped beneath an archway, the stone older than your predecessors. The grounds, still and eerie, retained a wealth of history, his ancestors still buried somewhere within the catacombs.

Orlok, you’d learned, was his ancestral surname, passed down through a noble lineage of a royal bloodline that far exceeded that of your own. He spoke nothing of his own beginnings, preferring to keep it all concealed within the dark.

For most of your life, you’d been taught to fear strigoi, tales of bloodsucking predators looming in the night, coming to snatch the innocent from their beds. You still felt some unusual uneasiness with your Lord, but it was humans you feared more than anything, those that tried to kill you.

Timeworn rags of your old life were left behind, scattered to the wind like a shattered memory. Whatever void was left within you, he filled — like a goblet overflowing with wine, leaving you satiated.

Within dust-laden corridors, you managed to find your way from the castle’s exterior grounds to a spacious hall, one that you had not yet seen. A singular door, tall and scaling, sat before you, the doorknob possessing the head of a gargoyle.

It was untoward for you to go prowling around within the Conta’s private dwellings, and yet, curiosity seemed to get the better of you.

Left unlatched, you gently pushed against the wrought-iron surface, chest lurching with a flurry of anxiousness as it groaned in protest. Sluggingly, it began to fall open, revealing a private study, wreathed in still-burning candlelight.

It was dark, lacking any windows or inklings of natural light. Scaling stone walls were lined in archaic paintings, several massive portraits gilded in frames of tarnished gold. Shadows danced along the bannister, uncertainty swelling within your stomach.

Each painting must’ve been familial, finely-crafted imagery of his ancestors. There was only one that seemed torn to shreds, almost nonexistent as you approached. The name was worn by time, difficult to read, Dacian muddied with the rotten gold of the frame.

The study seemed to have little use, chaotic and visually disorganized, with books and parchment strewn about, the fixtures dilapidated and old. An oaken desk remained scattered with various documents, but it was one item that had ensnared your attention.

A locket, the silver having faded to an ugly, distorted brown, all color and liveliness stripped away. It was inappropriate of you to pry like this, but some unforeseen force compelled you to take it, to open it and peer inside.

Trembling digits slipped around the ornate chain, finding the hinge of the trinket as you opened it. To your surprise, there was a small, painted portrait of a young woman — beautiful, in your eyes. Her attire was ripped from that of royalty, with delicate features and a regal, dignified posture.

Upon closer inspection, she resembled you to an uncanny degree, eyes beset by kindness.

A soft exhale of surprise tore past your lips, thumb tracing over the curve of the locket, brows furrowing together. This stranger’s likeness seemed to replicate yours, almost supernatural, and yet, you couldn’t be farther apart, separated by class and the insurmountable reach of time.

It hadn’t been disturbed for many ages, but the peculiarity of it did not seem to leave you, even as you placed it back down. Perhaps, he’d known of your presence all along, but it did not seem to fit the mystique of it all.

Departing from his study, you closed the door, greeted by the vibrant rays of sunset.

It became a tedious game of awaiting dusk’s arrival, watching as the sun began to slip beneath the mountains, orange rays turning to violet. With twilight encroaching, you knew he would soon awake, emerging from the shadows.

A sliver of your being felt compelled to ask about the locket, but you did not want to invoke his ire, if he were anguished over it. He had left it behind for a reason, buried beneath mountains of parchment, and there must’ve been a reason for it.

The forlorn dinner hall remained empty, save for the roaring hearth, brought to life by your Lord. As you entered through the massive set of wrought-iron doors, you caught a glimpse of his form, sitting closer to the fire.

Even from afar, your gaze was ensnared by the bundle of white, gossamer cloth he carried, the fabric reminiscent of your nightgown. Claws pinched at the material, twisting it between his fingertips as he brought it closer to his visage.

A strange spark stirred within your stomach, a familiar heat that seemed to ignite some crackling tension, allowing it to permeate the air. A hitch formed within your throat as you closed the door, the thump of it reverberating throughout the stone ceilings.

A hoarse rasp emerged from Orlok, an unsteady inhale as he absorbed the scent of your garments. In the time between, when he slumbered within his tomb, it was your smell he longed for, akin to that of some mortal addiction.

As you entered the hall, he withdrew your gown from his countenance, able to sense your beating heart, growing erratic in his presence. Black hues craned to peer over his shoulder, masked by the thick fur of his overcoat.

The bane of his being, his obsession, his lifeblood — during his days of arduous slumber, his thoughts crawled with you, of your amorous cries and keening body. There was a newfound ecstasy in the coming of dusk, when he could see you again — no vision placed within his mind’s eye.

He was not an oblivious creature, not impervious to your misadventures within his castle. Your scent lingered, permeating each corridor with a peculiar bouquet of warmth, one that only you possessed.

Your living presence breathed a certain exuberance into the veil of his shadow, where life was little more than a meaningless sentiment. His decay only seemed stilled by your heart, a precious thing, something that he deeply coveted.

It was in his nature to possess, to consume — he welcomed you into his tangled shroud, a dark haze that often invoked such fright. Your terror had subsided into carnality, a frenzied passion that he shared in, but had not yet acted upon.

Peering into your heart, the Count saw your wandering about within his study, mesmerized by paintings of his predecessors — and then, cradling a tarnished locket. A growl of agitation rippled through him, coupled with a rousing anger.

“Thou has traversed to places of grave importance,” The gravelly, thunderous lull of his cadence sent shivers of dread down your spine, born out of a gnawing anxiousness. He knew that you’d gone into his study, a place he considered to be private. “Why?”

A stab of lurching dread lunged for your stomach, sending a shiver throughout your body. It was foolish of you to believe that he wouldn’t suspect your prying, hands idly clutching at the fringe of your dress, an attempt at relieving tension.

Slick perspiration licked along the back of your neck as you faced his sharp accusation with a shrewd countenance. “I am sorry, my Lord, I did not intend to disturb your study.” It was a feeble attempt at mending the friction between the both of you.

“But you did,” A living reminder of terror — of his true nature, that of undeath and obliteration. Despite his innate obsession with you, he was still capable of wielding an icy wrath that made you tremble with trepidation. “I command thee to speak.”

A guttural growl erupts from his rotten diaphragm, a snarl that causes you to straighten, gooseflesh raking along your spine. He beseeches you to tell the truth of what you saw, something that your eyes were never intended to see.

“The locket,” A wisp of a murmur slips between your lips, tone softening in a valiant attempt to uncover the mystery of your ancient doppelgänger. “Who was she?” It was an innocuous inquiry, born from a naive heart.

Centuries without a thought of the past, only centered around you — you had brought an onslaught of lamenting with you. The Count did not answer, neglecting to shed any clarity on the woman who bore your own visage.

It was his own hubris that brought about his use of necromancy, thinking he could resurrect one that had long been dormant to the world. For such an action, his flesh was cursed in undeath, roaming the nocturnal world as a harbinger of pestilence, of one’s darkest desires.

“Of little importance.”

There was a fracture within you, a war that waged as you stood with bated breath, pondering his statement with perplexity. You did not believe him when he said this, digits curling into the rough embroidery of your gown.

“I do not believe you.” Lacking an ounce of defiance, your tone screamed of someone who yearned to know more of this shadow that haunted your every step. The Count’s displeasure was visible, countenance twisted into something of sheer anguish.

Within the space of a singular breath, he manifested before you, firelight draining from your surroundings until all that was left was pitch and silver. He was intimidating like this, leering over you like a dark statue, black hues swirling with an unbridled fury.

He was often indiscernible, a presence without any sentiment, and only you could taste them upon your tongue. Now, he seemed to bristle with an unsteady rage, cold breath fanning across your face, his scent one of the yawning grave and frostbitten flesh.

“You do not know what you speak,” His voice was like a poisonous thorn, a clap of thunder that rattled the castle’s foundations. The Count still cradled your nightgown in one hand, twisted in a fist between his claws. “It is a lament, nothing more.”

Clinging to a misbegotten past — within your marrow, you knew that it was a shadow of someone he once coveted, just as he possessed you now. Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, your gaze flickered to the bundle of pale fabric bunched within his grasp.

A flutter stirred within your heart, a skipped beat that elicited a soft gasp from your lips. His shadow blanketed you in his carnality, his obsession, his veneration — it sparked a fire within your belly, one that nearly seared your bones into ash.

Words died upon your tongue, stuck within the depths of your throat as you searched for a proper retort, and nothing emerged. A void of silence seemed to stop you in your tracks, allowing for a tumultuous tension to brew instead.

The Count lingered, hovering in above you, the tip of his nose brushing across your scalp. A gust of your scent invaded his senses, euphoric and overwhelming, a most wicked affliction.

“This lament shares my face,” Threads of a darker temptation began to pull at you, his allure unmistakable, like that of the great unknown. Your utterance gave him pause, body sharing in your space. “Why?”

He would have you in every lifetime, in every century — he would devour time if it meant that he could possess you. It was an ugly obsession, a vexation that you did not fully understand, this hunger that only you could satisfy.

A singular claw languidly danced across the exposed flesh of your neck, pulse pounding away beneath your jaw. It was a sensual touch, one reserved for lovers, a caress that seemed to make your knees tremble.

“𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.”

There was a weight to his confession that stole every shred of air from your lungs until you were left with nothing but a burning. An audible hitch formed within your chest, nerves set ablaze. A fire smoldered within your belly, one that demanded to be extinguished.

Crimson strings of fate, tethering you to him — perhaps, you were intended to be here all along.

Through black forests and silver blades, through snow-laden woodlands and the maddening cries of your once-kin, you had found him. His salvation was not in the form of some fantasy or fairytale, but through him alone, this carnivorous darkness — you were made for him.

With an unsteady exhale, you happened to feel your back lean against that of the hall’s grand door, the steely bite of icy iron sinking through your dress. It wasn’t the uncertain gait of fear, but of bewilderment — exhilaration.

To be coveted in a way that transcended the bonds of humanity, to anchor yourself to this being of carnage and lust — it was a sensation unlike any other. Your tongue felt like lead, heavy within your mouth as you attempted to conjure the right words, anything to convey your devotion.

It was unspoken, your need for him — he could smell it, oozing from your pores like sap from a tree, wafting from your being, the sweetest of scents. He cornered you, his impenetrable darkness corralling you against the door, and yet, you felt not an ounce of dread.

“This flesh is bound to thee, the object of all that I desire,” He rumbled, the lull of his cadence nearly bringing you to your knees, and the flame only grew tenfold. You had not known such reverence in your lifetime — and you knew that you never would again. “You are mine.”

Through bated breath, your heart heaved with ardor, body crawling with the lap of a lascivious heat that refused to cease. “I am yours.” It was a promise, made in the throes of your Lord’s possession, vocalized.

Without coherence, your hand blindly clamored forth, reaching for him in a way that you hadn’t before. Warm, silky digits found his chest, which expanded with each hoarse rasp, a low growl escaping him.

Your embrace evoked a dark, ravenous famine within him, one that threatened to devour you whole. He watched with a thinly-veiled rapture as you sank forth, hands finding his haggard form, clinging to him like a drowning woman.

Rough-hewn furs drifted beneath your fingertips, and at last, you felt him — as real as the dust-laden stone beneath your feet, no longer feeling like some ghostly omnipresence. Claws languidly dragged themselves against your crown, perusing through your tresses in one drawn-out caress.

The soft, pliant curve of your mouth enticed him so, the very essence of temptation, like the lull of a siren’s song from oceanic depths. He wanted you to invite him in, as one would invite a godly presence, let you crawl to him.

Black hues bored into you, indiscernible with an amalgamation of emotions, some hidden to you. A sharp exhale split through your ribs, one that shook with an encroaching exhilaration. Your gaze did not tear away out of fear, transfixed upon him.

“Kiss me,” It emerged as a whimper, a plea of such intense desperation. He had only ever appeared to you as a veiled shadow, never to feel the lively flush of your skin, or the pulsating of your heart within your throat. “Please.”

It was as if his breathing became unnaturally laborious, more than it had before, threaded with a desirous exhale. This act of physicality would inevitably lead to a point of no return, flesh bound as one in some grim eternity.

Your mind had never wavered — not once did you show an ounce of spite or a will to depart from his side, digits beginning to curl into his tunic. You hoped that your touch would beseech him to act, and yet, he remained eerily still.

“You know not what you desire.”

He wanted to hear your devotion firsthand, spilled from your throat, laid bare like a sinner’s shameful confession. A twinge of pathetic frustration began to burn your features, body pressing closer until your chest had brushed against him.

“I do, my Lord, I do — I beg of you,” Breathy, wanton pleas left you in myriads, gaze glistening with an unrestrained ardor. Whatever he wanted from you, he would have it — you belonged to him. At last, his rotting lips ghosted above yours. “Take me — all of me.”

Control seemed fleeting, and you danced along the knife’s edge of desire, hoping to let it plunge into you like a mortal wound. Those elongated claws brushed across your cheek, coming to cradle your jaw in a way that only a lover could.

A throaty sound erupted from your chest, wisps of air ripped from your diaphragm when his lips collided with yours. You had not tasted anything like him before — a decay sweeter than demise. Passion took root, followed by lust.

The prickled coarseness of his mustache scratched against your mouth, and yet it hadn’t felt so heavenly before. Elation rushed through you like the swell of a tempestuous tide, prompting you to mold yourself to his own frame.

A growl stirred within him, one that evoked his possession over you, his domineering will. He tasted life within your lips, the warmth of fire, burning away the forlorn chill of the grave.

It was as if your surroundings had melted away, reduced to an endless sea of darkness, with only him as your guide. A ravenous pull laced itself into his kiss as he pressed you further, a sharp nail tracing across your jugular.

“To your chambers.”

The sharp, gravelly rumble of his cadence tore at your thoughts, ensnaring your attention as you straightened. Pitch-colored hues glowered upon you as you peeled yourself from him, obeying his command as you returned to your quarters.

He had not followed, manifesting beside the window as you shut the door, wrought-iron groaning in protest, echoing throughout the halls. The penumbra of his oppressive shadow fell across you, tangling you within the visceral gnarl of his obsessive desire.

Moonlight pooled through the singular window of your room, liquid silver casting a ghostly light upon his towering physique. No longer aghast by his haggard features, a man reanimated, you inched closer, seeking him once more.

You yearned for his mouth, for his all-consuming kiss, stepping forward until you were merely breaths away, lacking any shred of nervousness. Had you not been fantasizing of this for some time, you might’ve been terrified — instead, you felt excitement.

“Reveal thine flesh, for it belongs to me.” He rasped, desiring to see you closely this time, unable to flee from his gaze. With each visit of his shadow upon you, left him unable to truly revel in your eternal beauty.

Gooseflesh raked across your spine, accompanied by an arousing flame that ignited within your belly, burning so intensely that it threatened to scorch you, too.

You had not experienced an exhilaration quite like this — as longed-for like dusk that yearned for the moon’s enchanting silver.

Trembling digits found the front ties of your dress, untangling them with insistent tugs before you turned, back facing him. A gathering of silken ties and string pieced it all together, and your hands attempted to make swift work of their hindrance.

The feather-light embrace of claws raked across your bare shoulder, roughened pads of his spindly digits absorbing the heat of your skin. A wisp of icy breath rasped from him, hoarse and labored along the nape of your neck.

A shiver of elation rolled across your spine, lips parted with bated breath as he loomed ever closer, towering over you. God, did you want him, needed him — needed him like air, a strangled gasp of desperation.

Gnarled talons bunched themselves within loosened threads, and with an inhuman display of strength, he ripped your dress. Dark hues seemed to flicker, swirling with such lust — he wanted to bite into your passion, let it consume him.

“My Lord.” A wanton mewl slipped past your lips, listening to the shred and rending of fabric as the Count tore it from your body. Tugging your arms from the puffy sleeves, your breasts were exposed to the chill of your chambers.

His dismembering of your garments continued, elongated fingers and talons prying it all away, unraveling you, revealing you to him. Those large, gnarled hands smoothed over the curve of your hips, pushing the dress down, down.

A guttural growl unfurled from within his chest, a sharp noise that rattled your bones with a needy thrill. His initial tenderness was entirely unexpected, silently admiring the unblemished plane of your flesh.

The sharp bridge of his nose slipped against your throat, lips pressing a vigorous kiss there, roughened tongue lapping over your saccharine skin. With a keening moan, you sank into his hold, bristling at the sensation of a hand encircling your breast.

Teeth grazed across the hollow between your throat and shoulder, temptation oozing from your pores before he bit. A ripple of pain spread from his bite, enough to taste the coppery pool of your blood.

It was not a harsh bite, not intended to feed — that would come last. His penchant for your cruor called to him like a hymnal, rough tongue dragging over the wound he’d made. Talons caressed your breast, kneading at the pliant mound.

One palm closed around your neck, caging you in against his frame as he greedily lapped at oozing droplets of crimson. You felt euphoric, eyes pleasantly half-lidded as you stepped from your dress, bare-skinned and willing.

His touch evoked an enraptured ardor from you, a need so overwhelming that it seemed to wash over your core. Arousal hung heavy within the pit of your stomach, molten heat that oozed like honey between your thighs, scent ambrosial to Orlok.

The cool metal of his signet pressed against your jugular, nails cupping your chin. As he withdrew his lips from the hollow, stained in a sheen of crimson, he continued his trail of kisses along the nape of your neck, rumbling with a low rasp.

Each ragged, raucous breath he drew was accompanied by an invasive gust of your musk, vetch and bellflower, native wildflowers found within the Carpathian Alps. It was intoxicating, and he inhaled once more, lips sealed to your shoulder.

At last, he permitted you to look upon him once more, noticing the doe-like sheen to your gaze, the unusual fondness you held for him. Your desire mirrored his own, softer in-nature, but just as vivacious.

Without hesitation, your hands silently clamored toward his gaunt visage, a mask of ghastly appeal, features sharp and haggard. You wondered what he might’ve looked like in life — comely and regal, handsome; a true pylon of nobility.

Warm palms cradled his face, pads of your fingertips wandering across his cheekbones, over patches of decay and rot, over tangles of scars that would never fade. He seemed enamored — obsessed in an unholy sense, drawing to you like a shadow to a pious moon.

“Without thee, this hunger remains eternal — without thee, I cannot be sated.” The thunderous purr of his raspy cadence sent shivers down your spine, body calling out to him. This lust he filled you with was one of sheer ecstasy.

A simpering gasp ripped through your diaphragm, bringing with it a wave of want. It was as if your entire being was tethered to him in some supernatural manner — two souls, once adrift — now, two bodies joined as one.

Words turned to ash upon your tongue, and yet you conveyed your sentiments through your lips, coaxing him in for another kiss. This entanglement was of a primal sort — impassioned mouths, teeth, a moan emerging from your throat.

His hand held your throat, claws sweeping beneath your chin, along your jaw as he reciprocated with his own famine. He was ravenous, kissing you with a yearning fervor that made your flesh scream with a pleasurable fire.

“I burn for you,” It was a mewl, a wanton utterance that made his bones sing. Orlok snarled, a possessive sound, one that seemed to savor your vocalized lust. “Please, do not stop.” You pleaded, seeking his rotten lips once more.

There was a crawl to your kisses, but a necessary one. He withdrew, enough to shed his overcoat, a mountain of fur and fine fabric, now discarded alongside your dress. A hitch formed within your throat, longing to see his flesh.

A nail traced across your lower lip, holding your face with a smoldering possessiveness. Your gaze did not falter from the Count’s, whose pitch-dark hues burned with lust. Tenderly, you kissed the pad of his thumb, able to hear the hitched rasp of his breath.

With a longing embrace, your digits fluttered to the front of his fur-lined tunic, weathered and worn by time, finding the column of embroidered buttons. He did not recoil or foil your movements, pressing slow, hungry kisses to your jaw.

As you sluggishly began the process of disrobing him, you caught glimpses of rotting flesh, grey and ashen, preserved in his current state. To lay with a strigoi often meant that you would be forever tainted by darkness — tainted, you would be.

In life, ages ago, the Count was imposing and well-muscled, much of it still preserved, beginning to succumb to the slow gnarl of decay. Each warm stroke of your fingertips brought him to heel, craving you in a most abhorrent manner.

The silken-and-cord wrap that held the elongated tunic together came next, working in gentle silence as you untethered it from his person. Talons continued to grope at your body, leaving behind faint scratches, some deeper than others.

No longer burdened by the weight of sin, you felt weightless — able to drown yourself within his veneration, his obsession. It was a dark and twisted thing, an ungodly sentiment, and you remained unfettered.

It was your mouth that beseeched him for another kiss, mouths entangling, rough and hungry. The stiff, coarse bristles of his mustache scratched against your silky skin with each kiss, a low moan stirring within your throat.

He tastes dreadful — of ash and brimstone, like damp earth pulled from a tomb, and yet, your lips urge him to continue. Crimson stains sharp indents of teeth in the hollow of your shoulder from where he bit, now bruised.

Pushing his tunic aside, you were exposed to taut, haggard arms, his complexion grave-like, rotting — his perfection was unparalleled, in your eyes. Your palms spread wide against his bare chest, as cold as ice-laden snow, able to feel each heave of his hoarse breath.

The warmth he draws from you is akin to bloodletting, sucking the rot from a festering wound. He savors it, a kiss of light that he shall never taste, your passion blanketing him like sun warmed rays.

Wordlessly, you pull away, bare feet dancing across the deteriorating rug covering cold, stone floors. You move onto the bed, gossamer sheets ruffled from use, the curtains seeming to flutter of their own accord.

Sinking into the feathered duvet, you await his presence with bated breath, and he moves like a liquid shadow. You do not recall seeing him shift onto the bed to join you, clothing entirely absent. His physicality is pointed, spindly, gaunt — your breath hitches with excitement.

Patches of sinewy rot blanket his flesh like blotches of colour upon a canvas — time was not a generous creature. A lonesome beast, awakened by the grace of the maiden, you. He crawled over you like a shadow, a growl reverberating within his throat.

Drawing your legs apart, his tall, taut frame slithers between your thighs, each ragged breath one of obsession. His putrid musculature covers you, hand coming to cup your chin, elongated digits extending toward your crown.

Talons brush through your tresses, downy and soft, a stark juxtaposition to his wretched state. His gaze meets yours, evoking a subtle gasp from your mouth as you reach for him, palms finding their purchase at the nape of his neck.

The protrusions of bone are felt beneath your fingertips, the icy temperature of his flesh. Exhilaration stings your lungs, liquid heat becoming a swirling tempest within the pit of your stomach. One palm cradles the back of his skull, inviting him in for a kiss.

A moan sears your throat, bubbling forth before his mouth devours yours — frighteningly hungry, hips beginning to still against yours. You feel the swell of his member press into your core, setting your nerves ablaze.

Teeth scrape across your lower lip, dangerously sharp, like the serrated edge of a blade. His kiss is like that of a tempestuous storm — dark, foreboding, consuming — you wade into his waters with a girlish giddiness.

Reciprocating his kiss, you feel his claws begin to dig, raking against your scalp as his obsessive nature rages like a gust of furious wind. Whatever fleeting prick of pain you feel, it pales in comparison to twined mouths and the lap of his tongue.

A leathery palm encircles your breast, covetously kneading at the pliant flesh, nail flicking over the sensitive peak of your nipple. A gasp tore from your chest, lips colliding with his with such desperation, reveling in his caress.

Before him, before pledging yourself to him, you had never been touched — any kisses you received were fleeting and lifeless, momentarily bliss that lacked want. It was obsession you craved, the repressed desire to be coveted.

Lips moved in an ecstatic dance, a fervent union of flesh and lust, a twisted reverence. Carnality bled into your ministrations, your mouth paling in comparison to the domineering force of his kiss.

In one swift breath, his lips peeled themselves from yours, only to greedily smooth over the column of your throat. He worshiped your flesh, listening to the erratic pounding of your heart, hastily galloping with encroaching excitement, a sensual thrill.

Down, down — in a sluggish descent, Orlok continued his wet string of kisses, a low rumble coagulating within his chest. Like coarse bristles of a comb, his mustache tickled your flesh, mouth finding the pliant curve of your breast.

A myriad of whimpers escaped you, hands continuing to cradle his head, thumbs caressing along the nape of his neck. His noises were sounds of satisfaction, savoring the lively smolder of your skin as you stroked him.

Vigorous kisses planted themselves across your breasts, your sternum, above your heart — he did not bite, not yet. He was agonizingly slow, drawing out your pleasurable torment, causing you to writhe beneath him.

“My Lord,” You mewled, palms drifting towards your sides, fisting at the sheets as he slithered downward. A violent warmth stirred between your thighs, now slick with arousal. “Please, please …” Delicate pleas tapered off into whispers.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

It was his voice, so crystalline within the recesses of your mind — your body trembled, awaiting the inevitable wave of bliss. He offered his lust freely, like that of a shadowed plague that swept across you, gnawing away at your bones.

He inhaled — a hoarse, horrible sound that expanded throughout his diaphragm. The feminine scent that had mounted between your legs was nearly as tempting as that of blood, saliva beginning to pool within his maw.

With a lingering kiss pressed to the angular curves of your hipbone, the Count growled, mouth dipping further, until he reached the heat of your core. Claws raked across your thigh, pressing down into your supple flesh, leaving behind the marks of his possessiveness.

His tongue raked hot embers over your cunt, wet and ravenous as he began to lap at your core. Your noises emerged, unrestrained moans that tapered off into wanton whimpers. It was unexpected, his actions, yet not unwelcome.

Talons searched for your hand, dainty and delicate within his massive palm, fingers intertwining with your own. You used this as an anchor, heels digging into the bed beneath you as he greedily lapped at your aching slit.

Legs twitched and quivered from exhilaration, gooseflesh taking up residence along your spine. A wash of icy air fluttered across your stomach, over your breasts, nipples beginning to pebble with the sudden draft.

Sloppy, damp sounds resonate from below, the noises of a greedy, covetous creature whose hunger knows no bounds. His tongue possesses a mind of its own, dragging over your cunt in desirous strokes that leave you wanting more.

Fire unfurls from within you, a lustful burn that seeks to sear the both of you. It only grows in intensity with each flick of his tongue, snaking across your cunt as he savors your taste.

Joined hands rest atop your hip, his digits splayed over your lower stomach, claws occasionally piercing your flesh. No longer a stranger to the blissful pain he brings you, a moan leaves you, one that vocalizes the depths of your enjoyment.

“More,” You croak, back arching from the feathery surface beneath you, as if pulled into his darkness by some invisible force. He can taste your want upon your flesh, yearning oozing from your pores like sap from ancient bark. “More.”

The soft, desperate crooning lulls the Count into sating you, mouth greedily exploring your cunt, dipping into each crevice. It is then that his tongue laps over the pearl of your slit, causing a spasmodic tremor to pulse through your body.

A raspy, guttural growl shakes his throat, seeking the pearl of your cunt once more, dragging his tongue over it. You squirm, prompting him to continue, delivering long, wet strokes of his tongue to that sensitive clutch of nerves.

A crescendo of moans escape you in droves, your ecstasy vocalized to the black nothingness of your chambers. The curtains flutter, with bluish moonlight pooling in, its silvery glow tarnished by wisps of dark cloud, dancing across your body.

The Count continues to devour your cunt with his greedy laps and light graze of his teeth, hand snaking down to hold your thigh aloft. A tendril of drool drips from his lower lip, slavering as a wild animal would over their prey.

His tongue leaves you, shaking and forlornly, head angled towards the supple, velvety flesh of your inner thigh. With a sickening, wet sound, he bites into the skin, breaking it with ease as his mouth is filled with your tantalizing cruor.

A hapless mewl leaves you then, and from his wound, you feel a startling wave of ecstasy. Pain becomes pleasure, bliss — your hands are left to claw at the sheets, bringing the fabric into the confines of your tightly-wound fists.

Dexterous fingers seek to stimulate you even still, circling around your clit with a peculiar expertise. The muscle in your forearm flexes from use, tugging at the sheets with desperation. As he laps at your blood, your hips jolt into his palm.

He sups of your blood, tonguing over the freshly-made indent, still oozing with crimson. With a lap of his mouth, he moves to the pearl of your cunt once more, thin maw wrapping around it, stimulating you with his suckling.

Slurred cries of ecstasy slip past your lips, back arched, keening into any sliver of friction he offers. The air is stale, the scent of copper and decay fresh upon the wind, invading your senses like some noxious plague.

There is a primal messiness to his devourance, chin steeped in your blood, mouth latched to your cunt as he evokes bliss from you. A rush of white-hot delight sears your bones, blanketing you in a wave of pleasure, stomach swirling with a violent heat.

He brings you to your peak, claws digging into your hips, caging you in against his mouth. It is his unorthodox appetite that entices you so, an amalgamation of crimson ichor and your arousal, tongue sluggishly raking over your core once more.

Pitch-dark hues rove across your body, drinking you in, bewitched by your devotion. With a sluggish crawl, he begins to make his way along your form, mouth scraping across your flesh as he ascends, seeking to join you together.

The aftermath of your release lingers heavily between your legs, matted with your nectar and remnants of blood. A low snarl erupts from his throat, welcomed by the sensation of your silken digits cradling him once more.

It is he who kisses you — rough, unyielding, the piquancy of darkness. He ensures that you savor it all, the concoction of blood, your nectar, his unwavering veneration stinging your mouth.

Instead of repulsion, you were elated, clamoring to reciprocate his devouring kiss with one of your own. Your hand cups the back of his rotting skull, the other caressing around the nape of his neck. A wheezing inhale leaves him, as if he is attempting to swallow down your beguiling scent.

The incessant swell of his member nudges against your core, causing a shiver to roll down your spine. Talons rake along your flesh, scratching you like a hot-iron brand, his mark emblazoned upon your soul. He gropes at your breast, nails beneath your chin.

Each heated, consuming kiss leaves you struggling for air, each gasp one of desperation as you draw him closer. The closeness between you is one of a strange intimacy, his garish form bared to only you, a creature of gaunt bone and grey flesh.

Take me, take me, take me — your voice screams within your mind, like some incantation that you become transfixed by. Your Lord hears your cries, teeth drawing forth a drop of blood from your lower lip, skin breaking apart to reveal a pearl of crimson.

Without hesitation, his tongue drags across your mouth, taking with it your blood, setting fire to his lust. His spindly frame is enough to keep your legs apart, hips urging themselves against your own as his cock pushes into you.

The sudden intrusion makes you moan, foreign and unfamiliar, yet terrifyingly wonderful. His ragged breathing seems to hitch, his member taking root within your cunt as he sluggishly rolls against you. The pace he sets is somewhat erratic and rough, made to rut.

It had been many torturous centuries since he had last lain with a woman, the one who bore your countenance. The Count did not think of her now, focused upon you, this enchantress.

Some omnipresent force bids you to search for his gaze, black hues ensnaring you, visceral pits of carnality as his hips cascade into yours. Your body is flush against him, breasts heaving with delighted cries as you cling onto him like a drowning woman.

Friction dances between conjoined bodies, igniting your flesh with a feverish pitch as you feel his mouth clamor for yours once more. Unabashedly, you kiss him, tongue reaching into the cavern of his mouth, able to hear the soft wheeze from his throat.

Each prolonged snap of his hips send you reeling, cunt clenching around his cock, as if you are coaxing him deeper inside of you. He is sheathed like a blade within a scabbard, claws groping, scratching, reaching within you.

A brief ripple of pain wafts from your kiss-swollen lips, puffy from the bite he delivered. As tongues perform a desperate ballet, you hear him growl, a half-groan that coagulates within his maw, expressing his satisfaction.

Miraculously, your body bears the oppressive weight of his obsession with ease, blood slowly oozing from bites pressed into your hollow and thigh, marked by garish talons. Some have broken the skin, and yet your ardor for him remains entirely unvanquished.

The needy rut of his hips brush against your pelvis, cunt stretched around the swell of his cock. With another drag of thrusts, his possessive kisses come to a crawl, filling you with a twinge of disappointment. You miss the gravely chill of his mouth as he makes his descent.

He seeks your chest, a surge of sanguine ichor pumping throughout your veins, beside your breast. The Count does not intend to drain you, merely keeping himself satiated until the next dusk.

The rough pad of his tongue smooths over your jaw, planting a string of covetous kisses along your neck. Spindly, narrow digits press beneath your chin, holding your throat with a light pressure, claws extending toward your splayed tresses.

The notched bridge of his nose brushes along your jugular, teeth lingering beside your delicate flesh. You remind him of fine velvet, perfection beneath his hold, a plane of softness, all belonging to him. Invidious is he, seething with a yearning that only you can satisfy.

Still, he continues, his path of darkness one that leaves you wrought with exhilaration, continuing to rut your hips into his. The vigorous ministrations of his thrusts seem to momentarily pause, cock still inside of you, filling you in a way that only he can.

A pleading moan flutters from your lips, palms rooted to his ashen flesh, pillowing his rotting skull as he kisses along your body. Your back begins to arch, an incessant release mounting within you, arousal warm and slick between your thighs.

Honed, wet fangs seek the warm cavern between your breasts, sternum rising and falling with excitable sighs. A low, wanting snarl reaches your ears as Orlok bites into your chest, beside your left breast.

The damp crunch of teeth rending through flesh echoes throughout your chambers, accompanied by greedy, putrid gulps as he sups your blood. Pain blossoms throughout your breast, unfurling like the petals of a wilting flower.

There is an understanding of his appetite — you know that he would not bring about your demise, even if he willed it to be. The sudden swirling of your cruor within his maw seems to invigorate him, hips urging to life as his cock drives deep within you.

A whimpered gasp rips through your diaphragm, body reacting viscerally to the sudden drive of his being. Again, his pace is erratic, driven by lust and primal instinct above all else.

Wandering digits caress the nape of his neck, fingertips nearing the base of his skull, your other palm splayed out between his shoulders. You cradle him against you, feeling the arch of his physique as he ruts into you, pounding away at your cunt.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 — 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.

The hoarse baritone of his thunderous cadence invades your mind, making your thighs twitch, legs involuntarily squeezing near his pointed waist. Your cunt clenches once more, evoking a growl from within his chest as he drinks.

His head lifts, chin stained with crimson, teeth hidden behind his mustache. Pitch-dark hues rove across your pleasured countenance, finding you to be enchanting, beauteous.

Warm palms dance along his frame, causing him to hiss, a low, delighted sound that instills him with desire. The bite embedded within your chest oozes with crimson, crescent teeth indents likely to scar. He laps at your blood, feeling you shiver beneath him.

Nearing your peak, you writhe, clutching onto him, begging for more through strained whimpers. The Count does not cease, sluggish thrusts of his hips forcing his cock deeper, deeper — until there is nowhere else to go.

Reaching for one of your hands, he pins it out to your side, claws dragging across the feeble flesh of your wrist, coming to interlock your fingers together. It is a gesture that makes your bones burn, flesh searing with such fervent desire.

His hands dwarf yours in size, locking your arm into place, your other palm left to cradle his head. Warm, vermillion ichor oozes onto your chest, rivulets of blood trickling over your breasts.

Without hesitation, he openly rakes his tongue over the trails of crimson, seeking your sanguine cruor, cock urging into you with a sense of finality. It is then that his attention is drawn to your lips, swollen and agape, deliciously tantalizing.

Mouths join together through the ecstasy of your shared release, hips beginning to stutter as you rocked against him. His cock drove deeper still, driving into your cunt as you reached your climax. It was relief he felt, the sensation of fullness.

Upon his lips, you taste the coppery sting of your own blood, accompanied with his own stale breath, the coarse prickling of his mustache. You cry out into him, feeling him swallow your moans, eating your pleasured sounds.

Squeezing at his hand, he seems unfettered by your grasp, nails digging into his ashen flesh, body rolling into him once more before you begin to settle. The aftermath of your release is a dizzying one, white-hot haze blurring your senses.

A low purr reverberates from his diaphragm — a drawn-out sound that blankets you in a strange sense of comfort. He stills, mouth receding from your own, ogling the remnants of cruor left behind from your heated kiss.

“You are mine.”

Dacian is known to you, a captivating language that only sounds mysterious and dark from his tongue. You sink into the mattress, able to feel his cock inside of you, ministrations having ceased, and yet he remains.

You welcome it, digits stroking from the base of his skull to his sharp, defined features, like warm kisses peppering his icy flesh. Exhaustion floods through you like the crash of an ocean wave upon the rock, and you recline completely.

He does not move from you, blanketed across your body in a possessive way, head coming to rest entirely against your collarbone. It is your saccharine breath he feels wafting across his visage, like the first inkling of springtime.

Joined hands rest beside your head, and you feel elated — a joy not felt before in your melancholy lifetime. His monstrous frame does not detract, and in the silvery pools of moonlight, he seems more picturesque than ghastly.

“I am yours,” Through a tender whisper, your eyelids grow heavy with encroaching sleep, tired from what proved to be a lengthy entanglement. He had supped enough of your blood this night. “Forever yours, I will remain.”

As you drift away into a blissful slumber, your paramour remains, claws perusing through your tresses, allowing such twisted obsession to eat him alive. You sate him in a way that no other has done before — whole, fulfilled.

By the time the first light of dawn creeps over the line of the Carpathian Mountains, he is gone — but the stains of his teeth are not.

With contentment, you know that dusk shall come again, and you will be sated once more.

#slasher x reader #count orlok x reader #count orlok x you #nosferatu #nosferatu 2024 #nosferatu x reader #vampire x reader #vampire x human #human x monster #monster fucker #vampire #count orlok

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kateschi · 2 months ago

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ᯓ★୭˚. RIVALS OR MORE?

જ⁀➴ “what are we?” event masterlist

synopsis: a question lingers between you and bakugou, sharp and biting, much like the competition that keeps pulling you back into each other's orbits.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the rivalry between you and bakugou katsuki was the kind of tale that pro-hero rookies whispered about, an unrelenting contest that started years ago at u.a. high.

from the moment the two of you stepped onto campus, it was as though the universe had aligned you as polar opposites.

bakugou’s explosive temper and fiery quirk were impossible to ignore, while your sharp tongue and precise control made it clear you wouldn’t be overshadowed by anyone—especially not him.

it began in your first year, during basic hero training, when aizawa-sensei had paired the two of you for a sparring match.

bakugou’s smug grin was infuriating as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles.

“don’t cry when i wipe the floor with you,” he sneered, crimson eyes blazing with confidence.

“save the big talk for someone you can actually beat,” you shot back, stepping onto the mat with your head held high.

the match was chaotic. bakugou’s explosions came fast and furious, his relentless offense forcing you to dodge and counter at a breakneck pace.

but you refused to give ground. the air smelled of smoke and scorched fabric by the time aizawa called it a draw, both of you battered and breathless.

bakugou wiped a streak of soot from his face, glaring at you. “next time, I’ll crush you.”

“not if I crush you first,” you retorted, wincing as recovery girl dabbed ointment on a nasty burn.

from that day on, the rivalry became a constant. every training session was a chance to prove who was better.

even the smallest victories turned into battlegrounds.

group projects were a nightmare for anyone unfortunate enough to share the assignment with the two of you; more than one teammate had begged for reassignment just to escape the tension.

things reached a boiling point during the training camp in your second year. paired together for a survival exercise, the friction was immediate.

bakugou stomped through the forest with his usual impatience, barking orders as if he expected you to follow blindly.

“stop lagging behind!” he snapped, glancing over his shoulder to where you were scanning the dense undergrowth.

“I’m not lagging,” you replied coolly, stepping over a fallen log with deliberate ease. “I’m thinking. you should try it sometime.”

“don’t start with me,” he growled.

despite the bickering, the two of you worked with a kind of unspoken rhythm, covering each other’s blind spots without even needing to communicate.

you hated to admit it, but bakugou’s sheer power was impressive, and his instincts in a fight were razor-sharp.

it was during that exercise that the dynamic shifted, if only slightly.

when you stumbled into a hidden trap, a quick snare wrapping around your ankle, bakugou had reacted instantly. his explosions shredded the ropes in a matter of seconds, his glare more intense than usual.

“can’t believe you let yourself get caught like that,” he muttered.

you rolled your eyes, brushing off dirt as you got back to your feet. “thanks for the save.”

“whatever,” he huffed, looking away, but you caught the faintest twitch of a smirk.

those moments were rare, fleeting, but they stuck with you. even as adults, long after u.a. had become a memory, the rivalry burned just as brightly.

every headline that mentioned bakugou’s latest exploits made your blood boil. every time your name appeared in the rankings above his, you could practically hear him grinding his teeth.

it was a constant, infuriating reminder that he was always just there, always pushing you to be better—even when you hated him for it.

for years, you’d managed to keep your distance, tackling different missions. it was better that way. no distractions, no arguments.

but the pro-hero commission had other plans.

their reasoning was infuriatingly logical: two top-ranking heroes with a proven track record of results, a shared history of success despite—or perhaps because of—your rivalry.

and so, without consultation or warning, your paths were forcibly crossed again.

the moment you’d seen bakugou striding into the meeting room, your stomach had twisted in a knot of irritation and reluctant anticipation.

the years apart had done little to dull the intensity of his presence, nor had they cooled the fire of your rivalry.

bakugou walks to the far end of the table and plops down, his arms crossed over his chest, his usual scowl firmly in place.

his crimson eyes flicker with barely restrained irritation, and the rhythmic tap of his boot against the floor echoes in the silence, each strike a silent drumbeat to his rising impatience.

you sit at the opposite end, your posture mirroring his, arms folded tightly across your chest. your jaw locks, muscles taut as you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the umpteenth time.

“why the hell do I have to work with you?” his voice cuts through the silence, sharp and jagged, carrying with it a heat that isn’t entirely metaphorical.

his glare burns into you, daring you to fight back. so you lean forward, meeting his fire with your own.

“you think I’m thrilled about this, bakugou?” you snap. “this mission is too important to let your ego screw it up.”

his foot stills mid-tap, and for a moment, the room feels unnervingly quiet. then, he scoffs, his lips curling into a sneer as he leans forward, his tone dropping to a dangerous growl.

“my ego?” he bites out, the heat in his voice rising. “you’re the one who’s always trying to prove you’re better than me!”

you can’t help the smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. there’s a certain satisfaction in lighting his fuse.

“that’s because I am better than you,” you shoot back, your tone teetering on smugness.

his jaw clenches, veins visibly straining against his neck as his temper flares. his hands twitch as though he’s moments away from letting loose a barrage of explosions just to make his point.

before he can retort, a sharp clearing of a throat slices through the air like a knife.

the tension snaps, both of you glancing toward the commission’s representative.

“enough,” she says, her voice steely and cutting. her gray eyes are cold as they flicker between you and bakugou, clearly unimpressed by your outbursts.

“you two are professionals. act like it. this mission requires complete cooperation, and I don’t care how much you dislike each other.”

the word cooperation feels like a slap in the face. you straighten in your chair, jaw tightening as you cast a sidelong glance at bakugou.

he glares at the holographic display now—typical.

the display flickers to life, illuminating the room with a sharp blue glow as the mission briefing begins. details of a criminal syndicate tied to a dangerous quirk-enhancing drug fill the room.

you nod along, taking in the information, though you’re acutely aware of bakugou’s every shift, every exhaled breath.

as the meeting draws to a close, the representative’s tone grows pointed.

“this mission is high-stakes. your ability to work together effectively will determine its success—or failure.”

bakugou stands abruptly, the screech of his chair against the polished floor startlingly loud. “fine,” he mutters, his voice low and clipped as he stalks toward the door.

you sigh, rising to follow. “try not to blow everything up before we get the intel, okay?”

he shoots a glare over his shoulder, but there’s something almost amused in the way his lips twitch, like he wants to snap back but can’t quite muster the effort. “just stay out of my way, h/n.”

the door shuts behind him with a heavy click, and you let out a long breath.

the mission hasn’t even started yet, and already you feel the weight of it—not just the stakes but the inevitability of clashing with bakugou.

the city below buzzes with its usual hum of activity: flashing neon signs, the occasional honk of a car, and distant murmurs of a world that never quite sleeps.

the syndicate’s hideout looms in the distance, nestled within a secluded section of the city that seems to thrive on the shadows.

the building is plain, but you know better than to judge based on appearances.

you glance at bakugou, who is already adjusting his gauntlets. the metallic clicking of his gear fills the silence between you, his movements sharp and methodical.

“I’ll take the front. you sneak in through the back,” bakugou says, his voice laced with the kind of confidence only someone like him possesses.

he looks at you, his crimson eyes sharp and unyielding. “stay out of my way.”

you raise an eyebrow at his commanding tone.

there’s something about it—something that always gets under your skin. but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of showing it.

“typical bakugou,” you say with a smirk, shaking your head in exaggerated disbelief. “always going for the flashy entrance. no wonder they call you ‘dynamight.’”

bakugou’s lips twitch into a smirk of his own.

“yeah? and what do they call you? ‘miss perfect’?” his voice drips with the challenge, and you feel the simmering heat of competition between you two.

you raise your chin, your confidence just as unwavering as his.

“‘h/n,’ actually,” you correct, your voice dripping with mock sweetness that masks the genuine pride you feel for the name.

“because I get the job done without leaving a mess behind.”

his lip curls into a scowl, and he mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but you’re pretty sure it’s some variation of “show-off.”

you chuckle as you move into position. his temper is always so easy to provoke, yet it never fails to amuse you.

crouching low, you disappear into the shadows, the familiar rhythm of working alongside bakugou settling in like a second skin.

despite your constant bickering, you have to admit there’s a certain harmony in how you two work together.

as you make your way to the back entrance of the hideout, you hear the distant thrum of bakugou’s footsteps as he moves toward the front.

you know he'll create a commotion, likely to draw attention and give you the perfect opportunity to slip in unnoticed. it’s his style—loud, chaotic, and effective.

you pause for a moment, assessing the situation. the back door is guarded, as you expect, but not too heavily. you’ll have to move quickly, but this is your element.

the guards are predictable, and you can use that to your advantage. with a quiet breath, you step forward, easily dispatching the first guard with a well-placed kick that sends him tumbling silently into a dark corner.

everything is going according to plan, and for a moment, you feel the familiar rush of adrenaline that comes with the territory. you aren’t just good at this—you’re damn good at it.

but as you near the main floor, the sound of shouting catches your attention, followed by the unmistakable crackle of bakugou’s explosions.

your heart skips a beat. it’s too early for things to go sideways—he isn’t supposed to be discovered yet. but, knowing bakugou, you don’t doubt he’s already drawn half of the syndicate’s attention.

the man never does know how to be discreet.

you curse under your breath but push forward, pressing yourself against the cold concrete wall as you move deeper into the compound.

every instinct you have screams at you to hurry, but you can’t afford to be sloppy—not now.

as you round a corner, a sharp crack of sound pierces the air—one you immediately recognize as a gunshot.

before you can react, something slams into your side, sending you sprawling across the floor. pain shoots through your ribs, and the world spins in a blur as you fight to stay conscious.

you stagger to your feet, heart racing.

your vision is blurry from the shock of the blow, but you manage to focus. the guards have noticed you—no surprise there—but now you’re outnumbered.

as you prepare to defend yourself, the familiar sound of bakugou’s explosions rings out, closer than before. your mind screams at you to hold on, but the pain is beginning to cloud your thoughts.

the world seems to slow as you brace yourself against the oncoming guards.

blood pounds in your ears, your vision narrows, and every muscle in your body screams for you to move—but you’re frozen.

you can feel the gunshot wound throbbing, hot and raw, in your side. your breaths come in sharp, jagged gasps as you prepare for the worst.

and then, everything explodes.

it’s as if the entire world has been set on fire.

a massive blast of force erupts from the far side of the room, so powerful it shakes the walls and sends debris scattering.

you instinctively throw yourself to the ground to shield yourself from the shockwave, your hands scraping against the cold floor.

when the smoke and dust begin to settle, a familiar voice cuts through the haze.

“hey! move, dammit!”

bakugou appears in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the fiery remnants of his explosion. his eyes lock onto you with a terrifying intensity.

you barely have time to process the sight of him before he charges toward you, his powerful form cutting through the remaining guards with ease.

with one swift motion, he sends a group of them flying, his explosions igniting the air with a deafening roar.

the remaining guards scatter, too intimidated by bakugou’s wrath to continue their assault.

“y/n, get up!” he barks, his voice sharp as a whip.

his eyes are on you now, and the anger in them isn’t the same as usual—it’s raw, a mix of frustration, fear, and something else you can’t quite place.

you push yourself to your feet, stumbling slightly, the pain in your side making every movement feel like you’re dragging a weight behind you.

“don’t you ever do something so goddamn stupid again!” bakugou growls, his voice low and thick with rage.

he isn’t even looking at the enemies anymore, but at you—his gaze pinning you in place.

you straighten, ignoring the blood staining your shirt, and shoot him a glare.

“what were you thinking, bakugou?” you snap, your voice rough but defiant. “you think charging in here like that’s any better?”

bakugou’s jaw tightens, and his eyes narrow. the tension between you is palpable. but then, with a sound that almost resembles a growl, bakugou snaps.

“don’t try to turn this on me!” he barks. “you could’ve been killed! you think I’m gonna just let you die in some goddamn back alley like this?”

his voice breaks, cracking just slightly as he glares down at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “what were you thinking?! do you want to die or something?!”

for a moment, you’re struck silent. the anger in his voice is so raw, so unfiltered, that it takes the wind out of you.

but the hurt behind it makes your chest tighten. you have never heard bakugou sound like that before. never seen him this...desperate.

“why do you even care, bakugou?” you ask, your voice softer than intended. you hadn’t meant for it to sound that way, but it’s too late to take it back.

bakugou freezes, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he scowls, looking away as if he hasn’t just heard you.

the silence that stretches between you is suffocating, and you can’t help but feel exposed.

you aren’t sure what possessed you to ask such a question, but the way bakugou is standing there, his posture tight and his fists still trembling, makes you feel the need to.

“I just—do, okay?” bakugou finally mutters, his voice gruff and not nearly as confident as he usually sounds. “now quit acting like you don’t need help for once, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

you stare at him, disbelief gnawing at you. he’s...worried. maybe even scared.

for a moment, the world outside of you falls away, leaving just you and bakugou standing there in the wreckage.

but you don’t want to let him see how much his words affect you.

not now, not while you’re still trying to make sense of everything.

“don’t get all sentimental on me now, bakugou,” you mutter, a weak smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you try to brush off the intensity of the moment. “I’m fine. just need a second.”

but bakugou doesn’t seem convinced. he steps forward, his hand—hesitant but undeniably gentle—hovering near your side as though waiting for your permission to help.

you catch his eyes for a moment, and for the first time in a long while, you see something other than his usual cocky arrogance. something softer.

“don’t push yourself, alright?” he mutters, his voice quieter now, almost awkward. “I don’t want to drag your ass out of here next time.”

you swallow the lump in your throat and nod, trying to ignore the warmth spreading in your chest at his words.

for a few moments, everything seems suspended in time.

the world outside is still, the only sound the occasional rush of wind.

you can feel the intensity of his gaze lingering on you, his presence more solid than ever before.

it’s a strange feeling—this unspoken connection, the weight of his concern settling between you like an unvoiced understanding.

despite his usual tough exterior, there’s no mistaking the softness in his actions, the care that has been there all along, hidden beneath layers of pride and deflection.

and for the first time, you can’t ignore it.

the moment passes, though, and as quickly as it comes, you both fall into your familiar roles, quickly finishing up the mission.

the two of you barely speak on the way back, the silence stretching between you as you navigate the now-empty streets.

every once in a while, bakugou glances your way, but he never says anything.

as you both enter the safehouse, the cold interior air does little to ease the pounding headache building in your skull.

bakugou drops his gear by the door, his shoulders stiff with tension. he moves like he’s still on edge, as if the mission hasn’t quite ended for him.

you take a seat on the couch, trying to ignore the throb in your side as you start to peel off your tactical vest.

“you should get that looked at,” bakugou says, his voice still rough with exhaustion. “you’re lucky I didn’t leave your ass behind.”

you shoot him a pointed glare but don’t respond.

instead, you take a breath, looking down at the hand gripping the fabric of your vest before finally speaking, your voice quieter than usual.

“bakugou,” you start, the question from earlier swirling back in your mind. “why do you care so much?”

his back stiffens, and you can feel the tension in the room crackle like static. he turns to look at you, his expression unreadable for a moment.

then, his eyes soften—just barely—but enough to make your heart race in your chest.

“you think i’m gonna let some idiot hero get themselves killed?” his voice is harsher than it needs to be. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

but the words feel like a cover-up.

you see it in the way his hands ball into fists, the slight tremor in his jaw, like he’s trying to push something down.

you tilt your head, an eyebrow raising. “no, seriously. you’ve been acting like a goddamn wrecking ball this whole time, but that’s not really your style, is it?”

bakugou glares at you. “shut up, will you? I did what needed to be done. not everything’s about you.”

but you’re not ready to drop it. there’s a knot in your chest that won’t loosen, and you can feel the words slipping out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“don’t lie, bakugou. you’re acting weird. you’ve never cared this much before. what’s going on?”

there’s a long silence. you watch as bakugou’s eyes flick to the side, his lips pressed. finally, he lets out a breath, long and slow, and walks over to the window.

“I don’t have time for this, alright?” his voice is low. “I just—”

he pauses, like the words are stuck in his throat.

the long, drawn-out silence stretches between you like an unspoken confession. it’s raw, and despite every instinct telling you to back off, you don’t move.

“I just... I just don’t want to lose you, alright?” his voice cracks just slightly as he finally turns to face you, eyes burning with a mix of anger and hesitance.

“you make me—damn it, you make me lose my focus. every damn time, you just keep going and doing stupid shit, and it pisses me off. but I can’t—”

he shakes his head, his fists clenching again as his cheeks flush.

you blink, your heart skipping a beat at the words, unsure if you’ve heard him right. “what are you talking about?”

bakugou’s frustration is palpable, but it’s different now, tangled with something softer. he exhales sharply, as if the very act of saying it is painful.

“I don’t want you to die,” he says, eyes still locked on yours. “I don’t want to keep pulling your ass out of dangerous situations,

but every time, it just...it matters more than it should. and I don’t know why. I just—” and his voice drops into a groan.

your mind races, but all you can do is stare at him, trying to process everything he’s just said. is he...admitting something?

is he actually confessing to you?

you try to respond, your voice shaky but determined. “bakugou, I—”

before you can finish, he huffs, stepping back slightly.

“forget it. this isn’t—this wasn’t supposed to happen,” he mutters, visibly trying to shake off the moment. “I didn’t mean to...whatever. you should get some rest.”

“no,” you snap, your heart pounding as you take a step forward.

you’re not about to let him hide from this, not this time. “no, you’re not just going to walk away from this. not like this.”

his scowl deepens, but there’s something in his eyes he can’t quite mask. he crosses his arms, clearly uncomfortable, but his voice is still tight with frustration.

“what the hell do you want me to say, huh? it’s not like I can just...do this shit the ‘right’ way.”

you move even closer, your gaze unwavering, and something inside you surges, something you can’t hold back anymore.

“I don’t need you to do it the ‘right’ way, bakugou,” you say, your voice steady but intense. “I just need you to stop pretending this doesn’t matter.”

his lips part, like he’s about to snap back at you, but he falters, his eyes flickering with uncertainty.

“I don’t know how to...how to deal with this, alright? I don’t—” he clenches his fists at his sides, frustration evident on his face.

“you’re not the only one who feels this way, you know,” you cut in, your words sharper now, tinged with your own frustration and longing.

“you’re not the only one who’s...frustrated.” you swallow, your heart pounding in your chest, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“I care about you, too, bakugou. and I’m not going to sit here pretending like what happened didn’t matter.”

he freezes.

his eyes widen, and you see something—his lighting up just a bit.

“you—” he stops himself, jaw tightening. but his voice is unsteady when he speaks again. “you care? what—”

you nod, your heart in your throat, but now you’re certain. “yeah. I do. a hell of a lot more than I want to admit.”

he shifts on his feet, confusion warring with reluctant relief. “so what the hell do you want from me, huh?” he grumbles, his frustration still biting, but it’s calmer.

you take another step forward, closing the distance between you. “I want you to stop running away from this, bakugou. stop pretending it’s something you can ignore.”

his lips press together in a hard line, but for a brief moment, you think he might dismiss it again.

but then, after a long, measured breath, he looks up at you, and this time, there’s a small smile on his face.

“fine,” he mutters, gaze dropping to the floor, chuckling as he runs a hand through his hair. “I guess...I want to be with you too, alright?”

your heart skips a beat at the bluntness of it.

it catches you off guard, but you can’t help the smile spreading across your lips. “so, what, you’re saying you’re into me now, huh?”

bakugou flushes, the scowl returning to his face quickly and the blood rushing to his face as he quickly turns away, clearly embarrassed.

“shut up! don’t make me say it again.”

you laugh softly. “guess I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

bakugou sighs heavily, but then his eyes flick to you for a second. you stare back at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

he grabs your wrist and pulls you into his chest. your eyes widen as you collide against him, and you snap your head up, ready to yell at him.

but you halt as he cocks his head to the side and replies with a smirk, “damn right.”

— you've got a new message!

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

#「 ✦ what are we? event ✦ 」#bnha x reader #bakugou x y/n #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #mha x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugou x you

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 9 months ago

Text

DPxDC prompt. Fae!Danny x Jason. Dead on main. Death of a Fairy Tale. or

"Oh no! This tricky hooman stole my heart! What should I do?" *becomes a leader of his court and, just in case, overthrows the tyrant Pariah Dark in order to allow marriages with representatives of other races and live happily ever after with Jay*.

~~~~~

“You're not allowed to be here. This is not your territory.”

Jason barely had time to catch his breath after escaping from the hot dog vendor when someone noticed him hiding in the bushes.

There were no rides for children or food vans in this park, so Todd didn't understand why anyone would cling to this territory but the guy looked at him with obvious concern. And well, after the morning's adventures, Jay didn't have any energy for another conflict at all. This kid looked pale and thin, so it didn't look like fighting with him would get him anything.

“Calm down, I'm just passing by. What's your problem, dude?”

“I live somewhere ne...here.”

Jason rolled his eyes. It's clear that the guy lived nearby, but it's unlikely that he had a house. The lack of a T-shirt and shoes hinted that in front of him was also a street rat who most likely had not yet learned how to defend his belongings. Poor guy. But this is definitely not Jason's business.

However, did he really spend the night outside in the open air? Sleeping on the bench was a last choice even for Jason. This might be acceptable options in some quiet provincial town, not in Gotham.

“I mean, what are you doing outside?”

Young Phantom checks his glamour, but finds no flaws in it. This man in front of him must be very knowledgeable and experienced, despite his young age, since he immediately recognized him as not a human being. For Danny, who lived with other fairies in Fairyland all his childhood and came to this dimension for the first time, the outside always meant the world of human. Fae shocked and upset that he was discovered so quickly. Haven't people almost forgotten about their existence? The elders would swear a lot if they found out that he had failed. The boy carefully orders the vine and clover to cover the circle of mushrooms, hiding the front door from the human. He was the only one of the entire brood entrusted by Undergrowth to start a practice in a city where there are almost no plants and sunlight, and faeling did not want to let down the mentor who took him under his wing at all.

The old Fairies claim that people are mean and narrow-minded, but Danny himself is intrigued by these creatures and therefore hopes that he will be able to come to an agreement with the boy and to continue his research without obstacles. Danny intends to take the exam for the right to be called an adult fae this decade, which means he has no right to make mistakes. But still, forcing a guy to dance until he drops dead from exhaustion or make him wander along the paths of this small green area without being able to find a way out, as he was taught to get rid of pests at home, seemed too cruel. This boy, just like him, is still a cub and he is here by accident, not to encroach on their possessions. They need not quarrel.

“Don't banish me. I'm just trying to learn.”

“To do what?”

“To steal.” Danny blushes, realizing that such honesty was unnecessary. Stupid, stupid...People know that faeries can take their names, thereby gaining power over them. Now this cub will definitely decide that he has come to cause harm and he will not be able to learn anything useful and interesting. Phantom quickly makes excuses. “Nothing important! I only borrowed trinkets and fruits.”

“You're new to this, aren't you?”

“Is it that noticeable?”

“Pretty noticeable, yes.”

The boy looked at him almost pityingly. And the Phantom didn't like it.

That's how the spirits and other fairies used to look at him when they found out he was only halfa. Because of this fact, his abilities were belittled and not taken seriously too often. What's wrong with that? He's dead just like everyone else, even if not completely.

And now he's screwed up, not even because of his nature, but because of his sluggishness. It was especially unpleasant, as it was deserved. He should have spent his time more productively, but the flowers bred with the help of humans were so interesting and talked about their longing for the sun with such sadness that fae did not dare to interrupt them.

Jason finished both of the stolen hot dogs and leaved the park. The guy still follow him and stares intently, almost without blinking.

“Stop it. What do you want?”

“I study. You seem experienced. “

“People don't really like being stared at like this, in case you didn't know. Back off.”

“Really?”

Jason was ready to be outraged that the kid thought he was an idiot but the tramp from the park looked really puzzled. It seems that if he ever had parents, they didn't care about the boy, since they didn't explain to him that atypical behavior could add him problems. The boy is lucky that Jay is an asshole only when absolutely necessary.

“You're weird. Try to keep your mouth shut near others.”

“Okay.”

Jason took a few minutes to think and sighed. Todd could not leave this strange child alone, because damn conscience would not allow it. He can't survive alone. He will either wander after some other person and become a victim of trafficking or he will be at the beck and call of some assholes in the late afternoon. Jason cursed his bleeding heart once more and promised himself that he would keep the boy by his side no longer than necessary. Jay couldn't afford to be responsible for another mouth to feed. Summer has already come to an end and it was worth starting to save a little money and store things in case of early cold weather.

“If I teach you some of my skills will you promise to stay away from the places where I…work?”

“Maybe. Is this a deal?”

“Yes, if you'll agree, idiot. “

Danny nods and his new acquaintance continues.

“First of all, we'll get you shoes and some clothes. I don't need you to pick up tetanus and some viral crap.”

Danny smiles a little, trying not to make it too noticeable. Great trick.

He nodded to indicate understanding rather than agreeing, and the boy did not ask for verbal confirmation. It seems that he is not completely hopeless at deceiving people. Phantom couldn't wait to tell Clockwork or Frostbite about his success.

They wound through streets and rooftops for a long time until they reached other man's temporary shelter, and Danny had to admit that the man's decision to borrow more clothes was very clever. Strange sharp things and narrow bags of biological fluid were found between the houses disgustingly often. The elders are right about something? Danny must admit. Some people are nasty. They didn't even clean the settlement they live in properly.

A foul-smelling device for carrying things flew into the face of fae while he thoughtfully followed the boy telling him something about removing so-called tires from the iron inanimate horses.

“Dude, stop fighting with a trash bag. You'll stand guard while I give the customer the goods, okay?”

“Fine.” To be honest, the intern was ready to cry from the injustice of life and rush home, and he was only stopped by the desire to visit the observatory, which his new acquaintance mentioned when fae complained that because of the smoke and smog the stars would probably not be visible at night.

Danny realized that he did not regret his decision when, a couple of minutes later, he heard his human quarreling with adult specimen. Judging by the conversation, the man refused to pay the price for the things brought to him and even threatened to hit Phantom's guide. Danny was annoyed by this and decided to intervene a little. To his good fortune, on the balcony of this vile man there was a pot with withering petunias and they did not mind helping lil fae teach their owner manners. A slight whiff of magic and the pot falls on the deceiver's head and human begins to choke on the roots that climb right into his mouth. Danny giggles, congratulating his green comrades on their successful revenge. Other boy doesn't waste any time and grabs the bucks that fell out of the customer's hands and orders new boy to run.

Danny spent several days with human cub and really learned a lot about these creatures. Despite the fact that such a pastime was exciting, he needed to at least create the illusion of practice the fae skills.

It is dangerous to ask a person who knows who he is about this but teachers will be upset if he does not make an attempt. And despite the fact that the people around him seem scary, Nocturn will be much scarier in anger if he finds out that Phantom is such a loser.

“Ma- Can I have your name?” Danny muttered uncertainly and immediately panicked at his own impudence. “Sorry!”

“Jason.”

Todd was in a good mood, as luck had been with him for the last few days, and the new companion was not at all as useless as it seemed to him from the beginning. He was able to hide so well that no one could detect them, and managed to bring fresh fruits, vegetables and mushrooms to their safe house. However, there were problems with the last one, since this strange dude sometimes brought toadstools and satan's boletes to their apartment, which he managed to get from unknown places. Jason thought he was going to have a heart attack the first time he caught child happily eating raw fly agaric. Indeed, if Jay hadn't found him this boy would probably have died of poisoning in that park by now. Todd had to persuade him to bring only chanterelles, which he could confidently identify as edible and not fear for their lives every time the boy tries to help find food. And his padawan really managed to find them. In Gotham. Holy shit. Maybe this park, so fiercely guarded by the boy, was another secret area for Poison Ivy's experiments? However, poisonous specimens will not be wasted either, since you never know when you will need to defend yourself without entering into a fight, but acting more subtly.

“Real name! Real one!” The boy's eyes were as big as saucers and he became very worried and waved his hands as if trying to shake off invisible sticky threads from his fingertips. “You shouldn't say your actual name! Why did you do that? You shouldn't have given it to me.”

“There are a lot of Jason's around. Why do you care about that?”

“You're not just some Jason, you're my Jason, you're important to me. It's dangerous if someone has your name. Then that someone can make you do bad things.”

Tears began pouring down boy's face and Jason was surprised by such a violent reaction. Todd doesn't think there's anything to worry about, since he didn't tell the stranger his last name. He often introduces himself in different ways. Just, for some reason, something made him be honest this time. But how would this guy know that?

“Well…You're not just anyone. We're friends. I don't think you're going to rat on me to the cops or anything. So it's okay. “ Jay tries to calm the newcomer down.

“Friends?”

“Yes. Friends forever?” Jason teasingly holds out his little finger, offering a childish oath that he recently taught his padawan.

“Forever.” The boy supports the oath, and then, after thinking for a second, leans closer to Todd and whispers. "I'm Danny, just so you know."

“Good. I'll remember.”

The young fae is overcome with euphoria. He took the name! He did it! But that was all the other boy had, apart from a rusty tire iron, so it probably wasn't right or friendly to keep it. The human cub helped him. Danny couldn't keep such a gift. He didn't even really try to get his name. “Jason is your name.”

“That's right, buddy.”

“I won't call you that name.” Where I come from, even spouses rarely know each other's names. Danny wanted to assure his friend that he should not be afraid that he would abuse his power. “ I like you so I will take full responsibility for the possession of such a gift, don't worry.”

“Hah, in order to take responsibility, you already need to at least marry me as a moral compensation, given the number of brain cells killed by your antics. “

“Well, if I have to, then I will. When we're older.”

Jason snorts and shakes his head. It's probably not love, since they're just kids, but still, Jason thinks that if all autumn evenings were like this, he wouldn't mind spending his life with Danny, snuggling closer to the boy while they both bask under the same blanket. No matter how many times a day they managed to roll in the mud and fall into the trash can, the boy always gave off a light scent reminiscent of spring greens, which reminded Todd of something warm and cozy. Maybe a home? Although when his father was not in prison yet, his house smelled more like the stench of cigarette smoke and mold. So Danny was more like a hope for a good home that they write about in books.

On their free evenings Jason usually entertained them by reading. Danny has always been an attentive listener, reacting vividly. After stroking the battered cover of a new book he found, Jason puts it aside. He's too tired today, and just wants to listen.

Noticing this, Danny begins to chirp about his homeland. His stories are like fairy tales, too bright and colorful for the stone Jungle. Jay realized a long time ago that his friend had something like a defense mechanism. Todd himself snapped and fought when the world was too cruel, this guy escaped to his fictional world, where he was safer and happier. His friend could have been a great writer someday. The descriptions of Princess Dorathea and her cruel brother, pharaoh with an unusual passion for technology and ultra-recyclo vegetarian queen of plants were so detailed and vivid that they seemed true. Danny's imagination contained the whole world.

When the first snowflakes fall to the ground, Danny says that this means that his friend Frostbite will soon come to pick him up. Jason is honestly not ready for such a turn of events. He promised himself that he would not be around another boy for longer than necessary, but he managed to get attached. He hopes that this statement is just another one of his companion's fantasies and forgets about it for a while.

A snowstorm is raging in the city when Danny does not return home. The snowfall does not stop for several days, and Todd realizes that his friend left him, although all his belongings are left in their apartment. He hopes that someone really came for the boy, and not that in the spring his body will be found in one of the melting snowdrifts. After a few months, when the canned homemade vegetables carefully cooked by Danny are coming to an end, and the mold, sitting alone in a corner of the ceiling all winter, felt the first the warm rays of the sun, Todd decides not to waste energy on useless worries and hopes.

Soon, as Danny would put it, Batman steals Jason. Todd doesn't really trust the old man at first, but he teaches him to be Robin, and, well, Robin is cool. He's magic. Robin is an urban legend, a spirit worthy of being the hero of Danny's favorite stories. Robin is Jason's connection not only to the city itself, but also to his past. Robin does not need to think about whether he should grieve not only for his mother but also for his friend. Robin is more. There is not only strength and hope in this uniform, but also memories, nostalgia and humanness. Therefore, Todd is not ready to give up the suit, even if he understands Grayson's displeasure. Because when he goes out on a patrol, the longing becomes less, and he feels that he is getting better and closer to something important. It helps.

No.

It helped.

And then he died.

And things are getting worse by the day, hah.

~~~A few hits with a crowbar later~~~

Jason learns about a new attempt of eco-terrorism relatively late, when he is officially called to help. Even so he stays at the place of the fight before the rest of the family. Firstly, because this time Ivy decided to start destruction from the closest to Crime Alley park, and secondly because Ivy's creations always pay little attention to him. Even the famous pollen has almost no effect on Hood.

Making his way through the furiously writhing vines, Red Hood notices the enemy and realizes that it is not Ivy, but decides that he will analyze the situation during the battle and rushes forward.

“Hey! Don't touch B, you.. “Almost flying into a guy with such a familiar face, the Hood slows down sharply “... pointy-eared.”

A guy with sparkling green energy in his hand and a vigilante with a pistols in each hand freeze looking at each other.

“Man, is it you?”

Snow-white hair, glowing green eyes, transparent dragonfly-like wings and razor-sharp claws are completely unfamiliar to Todd, but facial features, expressions and a bracelet with star pendants that Jay gave Danny for his birthday, adorning one of the impressive polished horns, allow to recognize him.

“Jay! It's been a long time, my friend.” Hearing Todd's voice, despite the sound changed by the helmet, the creature calms down. “You've grown up a lot.”

“And you're still so short. Wow. And, by the way, I can't believe you're still keep it.” Red puts the safety of the guns and then points one of them at the jewellery. “It's from a dollar store, nothing special.”

John says goodbye to the hope of a day off after the mission, cursing the manners of the bat and his offspring. Is a couple of days without the risk of interdimensional conflict really that too much to ask for?

“You gave it to me. That's why it's special.”

The creature smiles and Todd feels his face blushing. It's a good thing he's still wearing his helmet. Danny looks too…magical…in every sense.

“Do you know him, Hood?” Of course, Bat cannot stay out of the conversation when nothing is holds him back.

“No.”

“Yes.” Danny denies the statement of Hood, proudly puffs out his chest and declares. “He was my first. He calls himself Hood these days? How strange.”

Bat gasps and exhales indignantly.

Jason quickly connects the fact that his friend is definitely not human with the possibility that Danny's stories were true.

“Name!” Trying to fix the chaos that his friend is trying to involve them in, Red Hood hurries to explain. “He's talking about damn name. I'm the first one who gave...”

“Oh, come on, spoilsport. He almost believed me.” The fairy winks playfully and Jason has to do his best to focus on the mission and not on the guy. “You're my betrothed anyway. And, hey, I collected the library as a wedding gift.”

“Hm.” Hood rolls his eyes. This joke about their childhood promise would have been hilarious if he hadn't felt the old man's rising pressure behind his back. So, returning to the problem, he still needs to get these two away from each other as soon as possible. Neither Danny nor Bruce has a calm personality, and Jason didn't want to start Danny's acquaintance with Alfred by giving first aid to these dummies. “So what's all the fuss about? Are you like um.. Ivy's pet-pixie or what?”

Now John Constantine, who carefully watched the meeting from the sidelines, almost feels his blood pressure rising too. Compare faeries with garden pests. What was Batman's son thinking about, showing such disrespect? He wanted them to have more problems or what?

“Hm? Who is Ivy? I've never heard of her. To be honest, I'm only here because our gate was disturbed.” The fairy chirped angrily and, with a nervous flutter of his wings, flew up to the bushes. His finger pointed accusingly at the crushed mushrooms that John and Batsy had landed on when they unsuccessfully attacked Dr. Isley. “But even though your companions' behavior is inexcusable, I don't blame you, of course. I am glad that we met again because of this incident, Tagetes.”

The Faerie circle...John hadn't seen this in years. Damn Gotham. He difenetly doesn't want the problems of this crazy city to fall under his and Shazam's responsibility. Now it is clear why Rogue disappeared so quickly. She probably knew about it and wanted to make them someone else's problem. Damn it twice, John should have sent a message instead of coming to Gotham to discuss business with Wayne. Being uninvited guests of such mischievous and malicious hosts does not bode well.

“You are lucky that the Fright Knight is not on duty today. But someone will have to answer for it. Is it really so hard to look at your feet? Or is this a deliberate provocation? I demand an apology.”

“No, enough games for you. They're a little busy chasing someone, in case you didn't notice.” Jason starts pulling on his friend's hand, intending to take him out of the park. Next to these paranoids, it's better not to ask an old friend about anything. “Only good little fairies are invited to my safe house to taste my signature lasagna today, so stop trying to give my old man a heart attack, okay?”

“Wait. Is this Willis?” The fairy's eyes narrow and he looks at the cloaked dark figure with disapproval.

"No, another jerk. B has a problem with adoptions and that's the reason I'm now part of his brood." Jason reluctantly explains. "He literally dragged me off the streets without consent after I tried to take the tires off his car."

“Oh my Ancients, he did what?! But you're mine! He had no right to steal you.” Danny indignantly rustled the leaves of the closest trees.

“I prefer to be considered as my own man, thank you very much.”

“Riiight…but still, speaking absolutely one hundred percent theoretically, who would you rather stay with, darling? If only you were mine~”

“Ja-..Don't let yourself be fooled, Red Hood. You can't trust him. Ten or even fifty years spent on a prank don't mean anything to this creature.” Bruce doesn't look happy with how at ease Todd is with the threat, but frankly, he rarely looks happy at all, so the crime lord doesn't attach too much importance to it.

"Wow. Rude. This is partially true, but it still hurts. Jason is a friend. I won't do anything to him and I don't demand anything from him. I can't say that about the rest of you. I was preparing for a long-awaited vacation, and because of your fuss I have a new bunch of paperwork to do. What can you say in your defense?"

The boy with the snow-white hair didn't look really upset, but just because there was still a smile on his face, it couldn't be said that he wasn't furious. Next to fairies, all human senses became enemies, not allies.

Despite the deceptive good-naturedness of merrily fluttering his wings guy, John was on high alert. Short-tempered, playful and obnoxious temperament were both a blessing and a curse when working with these creatures. Fairies skillfully searched for loopholes in contracts and in general were the best deceivers among those who could only tell the truth. Faeries prefer to bend victims to their will with words, but they are skilled users of the magic of nature and chaos. They also, despite the business acumen as strong as the alligator's mouth closing strength, were willing to play cat-and-mouse with those who dared to turn to him for help or just walk near their possessions. And this specimen was also clearly not one of the fairies that Morningstar had taken over control, since his energy reeked of Infinite Realms. Unknown territory. John urgently needs to come up with some ingenious plan to get everyone out of this fighting safe and relatively unscathed and…

“Fuck off, B. I told you he already has my name. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it at any time. You should show more respect for your future son-in-law, you know.”

“Jason, honey, since when do street rats hang out with bats?” Danny obviously didn't have much sympathy for the Gotham vigilante before, but because of his story, their chances of getting along tended to zero.

“Oh, come on, don't even start this conversation. What is more important…Who would I rather stay with? Hm…Let's say, um, theoretically, of course…If your fiance was killed by one very very bad cruel clown, what would you do, Stardust?

"I would tear clown molecule by molecule."

“Yes, yes! Right!” Jason pats Danny on the shoulder and turns to Batman. “See, that's how you should have reacted.”

Constantine: …What an Addams family. I'm leaving. I've already seen enough. If you get kidnapped, don't call me. Damn freaks.

Come with me now to see my world

Where there's beauty beyond your dreams

Strangers Like Me - Phil Collins

#dpxdc prompt #dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc memes #dead on main ship #dead on main #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc fic

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sleepdeprivedartboi · 1 year ago

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Rating games I've played based on if they have the things in their name Part 2

Divinity Original Sin 2 - There was divinity but there were no original sins. It's just remastered versions of the old sins we have, Unless you count being dead which is sort of seen as a sin? Confusing. Give it 6/10.

Empires of the Undergrowth - There were many undergrowths but only ant empires, however game wasn't named ant empires of the Undergrowth so I must look at it from human perspective. 5/10

Pillars of Eternity - No confirmation that the pillars were there for eternity. 4/10

Pillars Of eternity: Deadfire - Again, no confirmation pillars were there for eternity, in fact some pillars are straight up knocked over by a god. There was no dead fire either, only alive fire. 2/10

Xcom - There are only normal coms, no ex coms, or X rated coms. 0/10

Xcom : Enemy Unknown - The enemy is unknown at first but gets known quickly. 2/10

Xcom 2 : War of the chosen - Again, lack of Ex coms, or X rated coms, much less 2. I do have to choose some people and they do go sort of to a war I guess so 4/10

Pheonix Point - There was no pheonix at the point, I am disappointed, I wanted to pet a pheonix. There is something called the pheonix project but unlike a pheonix it can't even set itself on fire. -1/10

Company of heroes / Company of Heroes 2 - There were heroes but no company, only armies. 6/10.

Kingdom Come Deliverance - The kingdom does not come, only I do. I know not what we are supposed to be delivering, but there is some delivery going on so partial points for that . 7/10

King Arthur : Knights tale - King Arthur is present, and this is , in fact, a knight's tale. 10/10

Rating games I've played based on if they have the things in their name Part 1

Aliens Dark Descent - There is aliens, and you descend into the dark multiple times. 10/10

Baldurs Gate 3 - There was a baldur and he did have a gate, however it was only one gate and not 3. False advertising. 6/10

Ace combat 7 : Skies unknown - There was an ace, and there was combat, way more than 7 combats. However all the skies were known. 8.5/10

Star wars : Empire at War - There is an empire and it do be at war. However, no stars are at war. 7/10

• Bonus :

Awakening of the Rebellion mod - Rebellion is already awakened and running around. 0/10

Thrawn's Revenge - There is a thrawn and he is out for revenge, but will he achieve it? 7/10

Grand Theft Auto 5 - There is far more than 5 grand Theft autos. 11/10

Star wars : Jedi Fallen order - There is a Jedi and there is an order that is fallen. However the stars are not at war. 7/10

Pathfinder : Wrath of the Righteous - There is wrath, there is righteousness, there is even a Pathfinder. However I know not whose path they are finding. 10/10

Total war : Shogun 2 - There is total war, however there is only one Shogun. 7/10

Homeworld - They leave their homeworld immediately and spent the rest of the time in space. 0/10

#king Arthur knights tale #xcom 2 #xcom #video games #funny #company of heroes #Pheonix point #Kingdom come Deliverance #Empires of the Undergrowth #Divinity original sin 2 #Pillars of eternity #Crpg #rpg #rts

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yuutaok · 10 months ago

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⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Spring Leaves, But I Never Will

Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

In the eerie mountain forest, you seek to find what is missing. Lost and disoriented, you encounter a mysterious boy with eyes like the dead, his presence is captivating. With a gentle hand, he beckons you, and you follow.

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Word Count: ~4.4K

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact), P in V, AFAB! Reader, prone bone, unprotected sex, creampies, posessiveness, supernatural/paranormal stuff happens, open-ended ending, Reader is lost in a forest and meets Yuuta, Yuuta is a freak

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Author's note: Hiii I am back with a vengeance. Belated birthday fic for Yuuta ♡ Life exploded me so I never got the chance to finish until now. Also, I would like to thank Sen (@/ banjjakz) for inspiring some of the horror aspects of this <3 They have such a lovely way of writing such mysterious horror that I deeply wanted to try my hand at, so please go read their Yuuta fics bc they are sooooo delicious ok I'll stop swooning now byeeeeee

Lost amidst the dense, foreboding forests of the mountains, you trudged forward, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the winding trail. Your heart felt heavy with the weight of recent events, the memory of your painful breakup still fresh in your mind. It had only been a couple of days, of course your heart would still hurt and your hands would still shake. And still, the need to escape, to clear your head and find solace amidst the solitude of nature, had driven you to embark on this day-hike alone.

The townsfolk often whispered about this mountain as a haunt for the heartbroken.

And so, here you were.

The hike was pleasant. You took the time to leisurely look at every interesting formed rock or beautiful sprouting flower that you had stumbled upon. Spring had just begun and it felt nice to be in the calm serenity of nature. You took care to not stray too far from the beaten path but still found your way crunching through the trees to look at specimens that caught your eye. It was a great way to get your mind off of things, to forget about life for just a moment.

But now, as the sky darkened and the woods grew eerily silent around you, regret gnawed at the edges of your resolve. Perhaps venturing into the wilderness alone had been a mistake, a reckless act born of heartache. Panic tightened its grip on your chest as you realized that dusk was fast approaching, and you had yet to find your way back to civilization.

With each step you took through the dense undergrowth of the forest, the sense of urgency weighed heavy on your shoulders. Nervously, you glanced at the sky, watching as the sun dipped lower and lower, casting long shadows that danced ominously through the trees. Hope flickered like a dying flame within you, faltering as the daylight waned faster than anticipated.

Your mind wandered to the rumors that had long circulated about the mountain, tales of heartbroken souls seeking solace among the towering trees, only to vanish without a trace.

It was said that the forest held secrets whispered confessions etched into the bark of the old oak trees, and love letters left behind by those who had come seeking solace from their pain. But these were not ordinary declarations of affection; they were haunting, twisted reflections of despair, each word filled with grief, obsession, and heartbreak. You have heard people say that love is the worst curse of all.

Some claimed to have heard mournful voices echoing through the woods, the ghostly whispers of lovers calling out into the darkness, their cries fading into gusts of wind and rustling leaves. Others spoke of strange symbols carved into the earth, cryptic messages left behind by those who had succumbed to the forest's embrace.

You still had decided to come, despite the unsubstantiated rumors that were whispered by the old grannies in the surrounding town. You’d be damned if you suffocated under the weight of your heartache. But as you delved deeper and deeper into the forest, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched— honestly, maybe the old ladies knew something you didn’t.

Panic clawed at the edges of your mind, threatening to consume you whole. Desperate, you called out into the silent woods, your voice echoing into the vast expanse of darkness that surrounded you, “Hello…? Is anybody out there? Can anyone hear me?”

But the only response was the feeling of eyes on the back of your head and the haunting whisper of the wind through the branches, carrying with it a sense of desolation that chilled you to the bone.

With each passing moment, the forest seemed to close in around you, its shadows stretching like grasping fingers eager to ensnare their prey. You were never quite fond of the dark.

Heart pounding, you broke into a run, stumbling through the underbrush in a frantic search for anything familiar. Each rustle of leaves and snap of twigs beneath your feet sent a jolt of fear coursing through your veins, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you raced against the encroaching darkness.

And then, just as panic threatened to consume you whole, you burst through a thicket of bushes, only to collide with an unexpected figure standing in your path. The air left your lungs as you fell flat on your ass.

You looked up at what, or who, you had just crashed head-on into.

It was a boy, his dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity as he regarded you with an enigmatic smile, despite you just pummeling into him with your full force. The shock of the encounter left you speechless, frozen in place as the realization dawned that you were not alone in the woods after all.

You made eye contact with the stranger, and a chill swept through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. His dark hair fell in tousled waves, framing his pale face in an unsettling contrast. His tired eyes bore into you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. A curtain of bangs parted across his forehead, framing his features in a shadowy veil. His lips twisted into a smile and held a hint of something that lurked just beneath the surface.

There was an undeniable aura of unease that surrounded the boy, a sense of foreboding that lingered in the air like a haunting melody. As he extended a hand towards you, offering salvation in the darkness, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeply unsettling about him.

"Are you lost?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. "It's dangerous to be out here alone at night. I can lead you to safety."

You looked up at the stranger incredulously, as if you would be dumb enough to follow a stranger you met out in the woods!

Sending your apprehension, the raven-haired boy smiles kindly, “I promise, I don’t bite. Please, it’s getting late and I don’t think I could live with myself if I left you out here by yourself.”

Weighing out your options, you realized that maybe this was your best choice. It’s either that or freezing out in the woods, or better yet being eaten by some wild animal that you hardly can find yourself against.

You looked around, dazed. With darkness closing in around you and no other options in sight, you accepted his offer.

“Alright,” you sighed. “But please don’t try anything, I’ve been told I have a killer right hook.”

He looks at you, obviously amused, “Of course, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

And begrudgingly you had to admit, despite everything in your body screaming for you to keep running, you felt completely and utterly relieved to see him.

As you followed the raven-haired boy deeper into the woods, the sense of unease only intensified, wrapping around you like a suffocating cloak. "Where are we going?" you finally asked, your voice trembling slightly with apprehension.

His dark eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion as he turned to face you, his expression guarded yet strangely calm. "To my cabin," he replied, his voice low and steady. "It's not far from here. You'll be safe there for the night. You can rest for as long as you need to."

Though his words offered reassurance, there was a lingering doubt in the back of your mind. You had heard stories of people disappearing in these woods, never to be seen again, and the thought sent a chill down your spine.

There was something about the dark-haired man that unsettled you, something that whispered of hidden dangers lurking beneath his calm exterior. And even so, something about him drew you in, made you feel so immediately safe with him.

"Who are you?" you pressed, your voice wavering with a mix of fear and curiosity. "And why were you out here alone?"

Yuuta hesitated for a moment as if weighing his words carefully. "My name is Yuuta Okkotsu," he said finally, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "I live in the woods, away from civilization. As for why I was out here...let's just say I have my reasons."

His cryptic response only fueled your apprehension, but as the darkness closed in around you and the sound of rustling leaves filled the air, you realized that you had little choice but to trust him, at least for now. With a nod of reluctant acceptance, you followed Yuuta deeper into the woods, praying that you had not just made a grave mistake.

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

His cabin appeared suddenly, a rustic structure nestled amidst the towering trees, its windows glowing with the warm light of a fire within.

"I don't usually invite strangers into my home," Yuuta admitted, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite place your finger on. "But I can't leave you out here alone. You're welcome to stay until morning." Though grateful for his offer of shelter, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a shroud.

There was something about Yuuta's demeanor, a subtle intensity in his gaze, that sent shivers down your spine.

You stepped into Yuuta's cabin, grateful for the warmth and shelter it offered. The cozy interior enveloped you in a comforting embrace, dispelling some of the tension that had gripped you since your encounter in the woods. It was humorous actually, how warm the cabin felt in comparison to the uneasiness its owner gave you.

“Home sweet home,” Yuuta said as he took your coat and nodded his head for you to follow him.

Yuuta wasted no time in playing the role of a gracious host, offering you a change of clothes and access to his shower. His bathroom was neat, he didn’t have much, just the basics, but it was still appreciated nonetheless.

As the hot water washed away the dirt and grime of the forest, you felt a sense of relaxation seeping into your bones, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves.

Emerging from the shower feeling refreshed and revitalized. You found Yuuta busy in the kitchen, a delicious aroma of spices and savory delights wafting through the air.

As you peered over his shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the bubbling pot on the stove, filled with rich, fragrant curry. The sight stirred memories of comforting meals shared with loved ones, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. "That smells amazing," you murmured, your mouth watering at the thought of indulging in the hearty dish.

Yuuta glanced up from his cooking, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's just a simple curry," he said modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "But I find that simple comforts are often the most satisfying."

You offered to help, eager to contribute to the meal in some way, but Yuuta shook his head gently. "No need to trouble yourself," he insisted, his gaze softening as he gestured for you to take a seat at the table. "Relax and settle down. I'll take care of everything."

Though you hesitated for a moment, the warmth of Yuuta's demeanor and the promise of a delicious meal were too enticing to resist. With a grateful smile, you sank into a chair, content to watch as Yuuta worked his culinary magic, the comforting rhythm of his movements lulling you into a sense of peace and contentment.

As you settled into Yuuta's cabin, you couldn't help but take in your surroundings with a sense of curiosity. The interior was simple yet cozy, with polished wooden floors that creaked softly underfoot and walls adorned with faded photographs and intricate tapestries.

The cabin had a rustic charm to it, its bare furnishings lending an air of simplicity to the space. Yet, despite its minimalistic design, everything seemed meticulously arranged, each item in its rightful place. There was a sense of order and precision that spoke to Yuuta's meticulous nature, a trait that you found oddly comforting.

On the shelves lining the walls, you noticed an eclectic array of books, their well-worn spines bearing the marks of countless readings. From classic literature to obscure texts on folklore and mysticism, the collection spoke of a curious mind.

Nearby, a shelf displayed a collection of handmade erasers, their vibrant colors and whimsical shapes. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of these charming little creatures. There was a sense of warmth and homeliness to Yuuta's cabin that made you feel strangely at ease. It was as if the space itself radiated a sense of comfort and belonging, welcoming you with open arms into its cozy embrace.

Before you knew it, the food was done and Yuuta served you a steaming plate.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said, nervous.

“It’s my pleasure,” Yuuta replied.

With the two of you sitting down to eat, you found yourself opening up to Yuuta in a way you hadn't expected. You told him about your recent breakup, the pain and heartache that had driven you to seek solace in the wilderness.

Yuuta listened attentively, his dark eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that surprised you. "It's dangerous to be out in the woods alone," he said softly, his voice tinged with a note of concern. "Who knows what evils could be lurking in the darkness? I'm glad I found you when I did." A chill ran down your spine.

Though he had shown you nothing but kindness, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling of anxiety that crept up around Yuuta's presence. He was good company, however, and you worked hard to ignore the way your hands clammed up and each hair on your skin stood up when he leaned in closer to speak with you. You chalked it up to your nerves.

The two of you continued to converse, him asking you more about your life and you asking about his. As Yuuta shared snippets of his past, you found yourself drawn to him in a way you couldn't quite explain. There was a sort of charm to him, an undeniable allure. Despite the lingering doubts that were dancing in the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the attraction you had towards him. You felt like a moth catching fire as it approached an open flame.

With a sigh, Yuuta leaned back against the cushions, his gaze drifting to the dancing flames of his fireplace as if lost in thought. "You know," he begins, his voice a low, melodic murmur that sends shivers down your spine, "I wasn't always a hermit living in the woods." His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken sorrow.

"What happened?" you ventured softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, to not disturb the mood.

Yuuta's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of sadness lurking in the depths of his dark eyes. "I used to live in the city, surrounded by noise and chaos," he admitted, his words tinged with bitterness. "But... I lost someone very dear to me." His voice trailed off, grief etched into the lines of his face.

"She was my childhood sweetheart," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper as if speaking the words aloud pains him. "We were inseparable, bound together by pure, untainted, love.”

A heavy silence fell between you, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the wind outside. "She was taken from me," Yuuta murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "And I... I couldn't bear to stay in that world any longer."

As he spoke, you sensed the weight of his sorrow pressing down on him, a burden too heavy for one mere person to bear alone. "I tried to move on, to forget her and the pain of losing her," Yuuta admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "But no matter how hard I tried, I could never escape the memories of our time together."

“So I left," he confessed, "I left everything behind and retreated into the solitude of the forest, hoping to find something to fill the hole in my heart.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his sorrow, and you could not help but feel a surge of empathy for the man before you. At that moment, you realize that Yuuta and you are not so different after all, both haunted by heartbreak, seeking solace in the expanse of trees. In his eyes, you saw a reflection of your desires, a longing for connection and understanding.

But even as your heart yearned to unravel the secrets hidden within Yuuta’s dark and mangled heart, a sense of unease lingered at the edges of your consciousness. There was still something unsettling about the way the shadows seemed to dance around him, as if alive with an energy of their own. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on…

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

As the night stretched on, the air thick with a palpable tension, you felt a strange sense of drowsiness wash over you. Your eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion as you let out a quiet yawn.

With a soft smile, Yuuta reached out to you. His was touch gentle, yet firm, possessive even. You felt yourself lean into his touch as if he weaved an invisible spell around you.

"You look tired," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that seemed to echo with the whispers of the forest itself. "Come with me, let me take care of you."

His words washed over you like a warm embrace, dispelling the last glimmers of doubt and fear as you allow yourself to be guided by his steady hand. With a silent nod, you allowed Yuuta to lead you to the bedroom, the warmth of his presence enveloping you like a protective shield as you sank into the soft embrace of the bed.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting shadows across the walls like dancing spirits. He leaned over you, his body flush against yours, his hand steady and reassuring against your skin.

As you lay there, the haze of drowsiness clouding your senses, you felt Yuuta begin to pull away. You grasped at the hem of his shirt, silently begging him not to go.

His features were veiled by the shroud of night, his smile, though unseen, seemed to materialize in the darkness. With a gentle pull, you drew him down to lay beside you.

"Do you want me to stay?" Yuuta's voice, a soft murmur, caressed your ear as his head nestled against your shoulder.

"Yes," you found yourself pleading, the words slipping from your lips in a whispered plea. "Don't leave."

Yuuta's lips brushed gently against your neck, his touch tender yet possessive. "I won’t,” he murmured, “I won’t ever leave,” his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,”

In your sleepy state, you found yourself melting into his touch. Yuuta's kisses trailed a path of fire along your skin. Each kiss was a feather-light caress that seeped into each layer of your skin, burning you from the inside out.

Slowly, he moved up your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake as he explored every inch of your skin with adoration.

As Yuuta's lips found their way to your jaw, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, lost in the dizzying whirlwind that you now understood as Yuuta Okkotsu.

His movements were calm and deliberate, his touch gentle yet commanding as he explored every curve and contour of your body with dedicated devotion. Each touch left you yearning for more. You would die if it meant you could feel this loved forever.

Soon enough, Yuuta’s lips found yours, his kisses both tender and possessive, his passion evident in the way he claimed your lips.

As his lips danced with yours, you found yourself with the thought of never being apart from him. It filled you with a sense of completion. You could feel the depth of his devotion. Could he feel yours?

As if to answer your question, Yuuta’s touch became more urgent, his hands roaming over your body with a ravenous hunger. You felt happy that you could be consumed so ardently, that you found yourself secretly hoping that you at least tasted good.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you realized Yuuta was removing your borrowed clothes bit by bit. He made sure you were left in your panties.

His strong hands moved to caress your bare skin, his fingers leaving imprints on your body. Yuuta’s nails and grip dug into your skin as he kissed you. His hands moved to explore every curve and contour of your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. You wondered if he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

You leaned up to deepen the kiss, which only furthered Yuuta’s excitement. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his touch seeming eager, desperate, or perhaps so incredibly lonely, even.

Yuuta’s wet kisses left you dizzy, your senses were overwhelmed by him. Noticing the strain between his legs, you reached your hands down to unbutton his pants & paw at his boxers. Yuuta obliged by tossing them off to the side with your lost articles of clothing.

You moved to guide his hips to meet yours. With him between your legs, you moved to grind against him. You both gasped as his hard member pressed against your soaked panties.

You look up to see his reaction but notice something in Yuuta’s eyes become dark. His grip on your hips became tighter as his nails dug crescents into your soft skin.

Yuuta took this moment to grind himself deeper into you, his cock sliding between the lips of your pussy soaked panties. You let out a wanton moan, grinding back against him, desperate for any form of friction or release. You felt his cock rub against your swollen clit, moving back and forth in a way that left you crying out for more.

As Yuuta continued to tease you, he paused for a moment, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low voice, "Do you want this?”

You shivered, a chill running down your spine.

With a hitched breath, you nodded.

“Will you be mine?" He asked, his eyes peering deep and dark into your own. You felt like he could see right into you like he was clawing his way into your soul to make a home in it.

You were okay with that.

You nodded again, “Yes, I’ll always be yours.”

With a glassy darkness in his eyes, he flipped you over onto your stomach, his movements rough and commanding as he positioned himself behind you. He tsk’ed as he ripped your ruined panties off, throwing off into the darkness of the room.

Well, you didn’t need those, anyway.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your ear as he whispered, “I’ll make it so you can’t ever think to leave,” sending shivers down your spine.

Yuuta trailed hot kisses along your skin as he positioned himself above you. With a low moan, he pressed himself against you, the throbbing hardness of his member seeking entrance to your dripping heat.

And then, with a thrust, he entered you. Yuuta’s hands gripped your ass as he slowly sunk his hard length into your wet core. You sucked in a breath, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as he filled your pussy completely. He was big. So much bigger than you anticipated.

‘We fit together perfectly’, you thought to yourself.

His pace was slow, with him getting used to the tightness of your cunt. You looked up at him with adoration as he leaned over your shoulder to give you a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. A trail of saliva left between your lips when you parted.

Yuuta’s spent no extra moment finding his stride, his movements becoming rough and unyielding as he fucks you with such devoted reverence. You’re helpless. All you could do was beg for more as you gulped in the air.

It’s obscene, the way he makes you moan. You’re powerless to fight against the way he makes your heart skip and your stomach churn. You feel on fire like he’s burning you to a crisp of ash and dust only to resurrect you again if only to just keep fucking you.

Yuuta’s movements become more urgent and the tension between you reaches its peak. With each thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your senses overwhelmed by Yuuta.

Suddenly, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through your veins, your body convulsing with the intensity of your release. With a cry, you shatter into a million pieces, the only thing able to leave your mouth is the chant of, “Yuuta-- Ah, Yuuta, Yuuta.”

“I’m here,” he replies, voice strained feeling your pussy tighten around his cock, “I’m right here.” Feeling the wetness and tightness of your cum triggers Yuuta’s climax, and with a stifled moan, he follows suit, pouring his hot cum into you.

Yuuta pulls you into his arms, his leaky cock still hard inside of you. Your dark-haired lover kisses your temple and leaves sweet whispers across the sweat of your skin. He holds you close, entwining you into him as your eyelids get heavy and you feel sleep take over your spent body.

You feel loved.

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

In your dreams, you find yourself lost in a labyrinth of shadows, the air thick with the scent of decay. Whispers echo through the darkness, taunting you with half-formed promises and cryptic warnings.

You stumble through the endless maze, searching for an escape, but the shadows seem to shift and twist, leading you further into the depths of your despair.

And then, just when you think you can bear it no longer, you see him. Yuuta stands before you, his dark eyes looking into yours as he reaches out to you with a hand shrouded in darkness.

He whispers something, you don’t understand. But you still reach out, taking his hand into yours.

You awaken with a start, the echoes of your nightmare still lingering in the recesses of your mind.

Heart pounding, you sit up in bed, the room bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains.

Yuuta is gone, but his warmth remains.

A sense of foreboding settles over you like a shroud.

#₊˚ 彡✩ ₊˚ writing #⋆୨✿୧⋆ jjk #⋆୨♡୧⋆ yuuta #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuuta smut #EXTREMELY BELATED BDAY FIC LETS GOOOOO #idk if u will see this but #hiii sen i hope u dont mind the mention o///o your newest Yuuta fics had me in such a chokehold that i started this…#but then u finished my comm and my braincell was literally screaming #I NEEEED TO WRIT EJ NEEED I NEED I NEED #so basicallt thank u for making me insane

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impish-baby · 4 months ago

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Ooo what about a group of fae caregivers who have been watching reader for a while and deem that this baby can’t go on longer without being taken care of, to then lead the reader out into the woods to never get them go.

Love your work btw :))

Fae!!! My favorite honestly, I hope this is alright! ^^

Come along now, run away from the humdrum. We'll go to a place that is safe from greed, anger, and boredom - Fae caregivers x reader - ☘️

The woods have always felt like a second home to you. Towering trees that stretch into the clouds, babbling brooks, it's all so much more tranquil than your busting town. Sometimes, it even feels like the forrest cares just as much about you as you care for it. It's silly, you know, but it makes you happy.

The rumors of fae are forever present, but they do nothing to deter your longing for the wild. Old wives' tales are all they are, whisperings meant to keep children from wandering too far from home and getting lost. Even if there's truth to the stories, it's none of your business. Really, you just need to be polite (something you should already do) and guard your name, it isn't that difficult.

Leaves crunch underfoot as you travel the familiar path into the woods, the changing of seasons obvious. You're a little sad to see the green go, but it is only nature's coarse. The autumn season gives way for lots of good harvest at least, basket in hand in hopes of bringing a few spoils home. As you travel deeper into the trees, the sun is eventually swallowed by the canapy, beams of light being the only thing allowed through.

A fox catches your eye for just a moment, the creature staring at you from the undergrowth. You can't resist the urge to wave politey, so you do so before it scampers back into the trees. No matter how many times you see one, they're still so beautiful.

Everything is really, that's why you've found yourself crouched in front of a patch of mushrooms reaching out of the forrest floor. They're pretty, a light brown with frilled gills..

"I hope you aren't going to pick them, those are poisonous, they don't make for very good eating.."

The sudden voice from behind you causes you to fall flat on your bottom, a melodious laugh following. "Oh dear, I didn't mean to startle you.." they offer you a hand up, giggling all the while. "Are you alright, darling?"

You manage a nod as you're helped back onto your feet, thanking the man quietly. He's tall, probably taller than anyone you've ever met, and jewelry covers his form as if his beauty didn't speak for itself. His rings catch the light as he raises your hand to his lips.

"You may call me Briar, might I have your name?"

He doesn't falter for second as you shake your head, asking him to call you a nickname instead. "Oh, I get to choose, do I?" Brair rubs his chin like he's deep in thought before springing forward and playfully tapping your nose. "Sprout then, you're just a little thing, it suits you.."

You aren't the happiest about it, but you're in no position to protest. Briar only smiles and steps away, no longer in your personal space, but waiting for you. "Are you out to pick berries perhaps? I know a great spot. I was about to fetch some myself, actually.."

He's expectant, tilting his head at you. "We'll have to go away from the path, but I promise, they'll be the best thing you've ever tasted.." You're reluctant to veer away from what you know, but Brair assures you he won't get you lost, and the promise of goodies is tempting..

You think his smile can rival the sun with how bright it is when you agree, Brair taking your hand in his as you begin to walk into the thicket. It feels right almost having your hand in his, it's strange, you've only just met but he seems familiar. Like you've always known him.

"My friends and I are having a little bit of a party, actually.." He hums, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. Brair laughs again when you ask about it, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "A welcome home party, I suppose. One for a beloved member of the family.."

It feels like it takes no time at all to come across the bushes he was referring to. The path, however, is long gone. You don't notice, attention captured by Briar guiding you to sit beside him. He was right, the berries are like nothing you've ever tasted before. They're the sweetest, nothing compares to the burst of joy they give you when you sample one.

By the end of picking, your fingers are stained pink as well as your mouth. Briar hadn't snacked on the fruit like you did, only smiling as you had your fill. "See? Good, right?" He hums, brushing your hair away from your face. "You know.. I'm sure we'll have much more yummy food at the party, I'd be delighted if you came. " Briar pays no mind to your instantaneous about not wanting to intrude and.. and if the rest of the food is as good as what you just ate..

"Perfect.." Briar is already leading you away, although you're unsure when you started walking again. "Ohh, I can't wait.."

You can hear music in the distance, the sounds of merriment beckoning you home.

#famial yandere #platonic yandere #yandere age regression #yandere agere #forced age regression #platonic yandere x reader #forced agere #yandere x reader #you've got mail! 📨#yandere fae #new ocs perhaps..

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lamemaster · 3 months ago

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A Secret Garden

Request: me (hehe)

Pairings: Thranduil x Illyrian reader

Genre: fluff and feels

Summary: The forests of Greenwood were brimming with fae, imps, valkyries, Illyrians, and whatever those horses with horns on their heads were called.

AN: I think Greenwood exists out there somewhere hidden from canon. That's where Maglor lives, probably. Thranduil deserves a baddie. I don't make the rules.

Next up- Zombie Maedhros Fall trope event list

Contrary to the usual, casual belief, Legolas’ mother is very much alive and thriving within the halls of Greenwood the Great.

And yes, it is Greenwood the Great. Mirkwood was merely a convenient front. A grim veil to dissuade would-be intruders.

That includes the so-called "statue of the Queen," which, for the record, looks nothing like you. Truly, Thranduil outdid himself in selecting the most unlike-you statue and crafting the wildest tale of gems and tragic loss.

Your husband, the King of Greenwood, was a mastermind. A ruler so adept that his kingdom flourished for millennia without enchanted rings or the guidance of the Valar. His conniving brooding ensured that his people prospered in secret, while the world saw only a shadowed, forbidding forest.

As for where the real Greenwood the Great lingered during those turbulent times? That remains a mystery. Its shifting location shall not be revealed here.

This tale, however, concerns you, the Queen of Greenwood the Great. Mirkwood, for all its legends, lacks a queen. It possesses only the image of a bitter, widowed king clinging to a fading world and a son growing restless with time.

Thranduil was a vessel of theatrics and drama.

You, on the other hand, were content in your hidden kingdom. Three thousand years of seclusion had yet to yield a Turin or a Maeglin to wreck your haven, and for that, you counted yourself fortunate.

As for what you are? Most guesses would not quite be accurate. Not quite an elf, in the not-quite-elven kingdom of your husband.

The forests of Greenwood were brimming with fae, imps, valkyries, Illyrians, and whatever those horses with horns on their heads were called.

You were one of them. Or, more accurately, an amalgamation of many. Yet the great, leathery wings at your back made it clear that your Illyrian ancestry dominated while the rest of your gene remained suppressed only to peek upon close inspection.

And how, you ask, did a lowly bastard with wings become the Queen of Greenwood the Great?

That tale begins long ago.

Thranduil had been lost for days, his once-pristine robes torn and muddied, his sword arm aching from constant readiness.

The air of the forest felt different here, heavier, charged with an unfamiliar magic that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He had strayed far from the borders of his father’s palace, lured into unknown territory by the magnificent silver fawn.

They were like nothing he had ever seen beasts in the shape of men, with great bat-like wings that cast shadows over the forest floor. Runes glowed faintly across their arms, swirling and shifting like living things, their meaning lost to him.

They didn’t kill him outright. Instead, they toyed with him, driving him deeper into the woods, their eerie laughter echoing around him like the rustle of dead leaves. Every so often, one would swoop low, slashing at him with claws or the sharp edges of their wings, drawing blood but never a fatal blow.

Thranduil’s breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled through the dense undergrowth, his usually keen senses dulled by exhaustion.

That was when he found you or, rather, when he collided into you.

One moment, he was running, heart hammering in his chest, the laughter of his pursuers closing in. The next, he crashed into something-someone, so abruptly that the force sent him sprawling to the ground.

Disoriented, he scrambled to his feet, sword raised, his golden hair falling in disheveled strands around his face.

You stood there, unmoving, watching him with a curious tilt of your head. Your wings extended slightly behind you, the moonlight falling gently onto them.

Not unlike his hunters, Runes spiraled faintly along your arms. With broad shoulders and visible strength of muscle lining your body, you were what he assumed to be an Illyrian.

The Illyrians were brutish fighters. An army with no leader. Children of the night. No one in Greenwood had seen them. Most were reluctant to seek the bunch that were rumored to make a stew out of anything and everything.

“What are you doing in Illyrian woods, elf?” Your voice was calm, almost bemused, though your eyes betrayed a hint of irritation.

Before Thranduil could respond, the sound of wings beating the air filled the clearing. His hunters emerged from the shadows, circling above. They slowed at the sight of you, their jeers fading into uncertain murmurs.

One of them dropped to the ground, his cruel grin faltering as he addressed you. “Captain,” he sneered, though his tone carried a note of wariness. “We didn’t realize you were… entertaining guests.”

Your wings flared slightly, and the runes on your arms pulsed in response. “He is no guest,” you replied coolly, stepping forward. “But nor is he your prey.”

The hunter hesitated, his confidence waning under your sharp gaze. “We were only—”

“Leave,” you commanded, your voice carrying a weight that stilled the air.

The hunter glanced between you and Thranduil, clearly torn between defiance and self-preservation. With a final sneer, he launched himself into the air, the rest of the group following in his wake. Their shadows vanished into the trees, leaving behind an uneasy silence.

Thranduil stared at you, his sword still raised, his mind racing to make sense of what had just happened. “Who are you?” he demanded, though his voice cracked at the most unfortunate pause.

You turned to him, your expression unreadable. “I might ask you the same question, elf.”

Thranduil hesitated before he answered “I am Thranduil, prince of Greenwood.”

Your lips curved into the faintest smile. “A long way from home, aren’t you?”

Before he could reply, you turned and began walking deeper into the forest, your wings folding neatly against your back. Thranduil stood rooted to the spot for a moment, torn between suspicion and exhaustion. Then with a quiet sigh, he followed you, hoping to escape the fate of becoming a hearty meal.

Legolas, as many assumed, was not your only child. He was, in fact, your youngest, the cherished baby of your family, born long after the triplets.

He took after Thranduil in nearly every way, so much so that his presence alone was acceptable in the halls of Mirkwood. The only one to be elven enough for Middle Earth.

Your other children, however, were a different story.

The triplets, older and undeniably yours, had delicate, protruding wings like yours—proof that their father’s genetics had long since lost the battle.

The children however did not fail to possess their father’s dramatic flair and liking for chaos.

Now seated with your bickering triplets and sullen eldest you await your husband and son to return to your world. Away from the chaos of the world that was nothing but an illusion.

With a prayer sent to the spirits, you try your best to spare the dinner from the hands of your wild family.

#thranduil x wife #thranduil x reader #illyrian reader #canon divergence #lord of the rings #fluff #competent reader and damsel Thranduil #fall event #🍂🍂🍂

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galedekarios · 8 months ago

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references in gale's banter on selection

just thought i'd go through a few of his selection lines that stuck out to me.

Oh, what a tangled Weave we web!

reference to: "oh what a tangled web we weave" from a poem by sir walter scott:

"Like so very many of Shakespeare’s lasting observations, it’s a beautifully expressed aphorism that uses just a few words to describe one life experience so perfectly, and is so true, that it enters into the English language and becomes one of its most powerful idioms – one that will last forever. ‘Oh what a tangled web we weave/When first we practice to deceive’ means that when you lie or act dishonestly you are initiating problems and a domino structure of complications which eventually run out of control. The quote is from Scott’s epic poem, Marmion: A Tale of Flodden Field. It’s an historical romance in verse, published in 1808."

the next one is is a play on a line from a shakespeare play:

All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.

the play is titled 'as you like it' and the line appears in the following monologue:

"All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely Players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His Acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."

the next one appears to reference a poem:

The path less travelled.

i think this is in reference to the well-known poem by robert frost, 'the road not taken':

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

i think this ties in well with gale's wanderlust, his wish to explore different worlds and planes of existence.

the next one is a waterdhavian saying, which i already took a closer look at in one of my metas:

'Doth thy mirror crack?' Apparently not.

Early on in his learning of magic, the long-dead and locally famous first Lord (revered in Waterdeep for his role in establishing the city as it is today) Ahghairon said, "I am no wizard. I am a dabbler but no master of magic; it seems no mastery burns within me." These are famous words in Waterdeep, still known by most Waterdhavian children and all adults, and are oft referenced, as in the dry comment "No mastery blazing forth yet," or "A dabbler but no master, eh?" (Comments applied to skill trades and crafts, not just to magic use.) Tuezaera Hallowhand was a famous "lone cat" thief of Waterdeep in the 1200s DR who disappeared suddenly and is thought to have come to a violent end. She once robbed a wizard, and wrote this on his wall with a fingertip dipped in his favorite red wine: "I take things. You take freedom with your spells. Which of us is the greater thief?" This statement, too, is well remembered, and usually echoed in Waterdhavian speech by someone using the last (questioning) sentence of Tuezara's inscription. Laeral, Lady Mage of Waterdeep for some years (when married to Khelben "Blackstaff" Arunsun), once publicly rebuked an overambitious wizard of the Watchful Order of Magists & Protectors thus: "If I hurl spells but think not of consequences, I am nothing. If I take lives but count not the cost, I am nothing. If I steal in the night and see not the faces of the devastated come morning, I am nothing. If I make decrees like a ruler but undertake none of the responsibilities of the throne, I am nothing. And if I do all these things in the name of the Watchful Order, I am less than nothing. Doth thy mirror crack?" These scornful words are remembered and used almost daily in Waterdeep even a century later, though almost never as the full quotation. Rather, someone will ask scornfully, "Doth thy mirror crack?" or "Hurl but think not?" or "Take but not count cost? Be nothing, then!" [source: waterdeep: dragon heist]

i think this one is very neat:

No gloom, all doom.

because i believe it references xan of evereska from baldur's gate 1. xan is infamous for his gloomy nature, often talking about his doom, the folly of the quest, etc. some of his lines include the following:

"We're all doomed! Run while we're still able." "If we are doomed to fail, could we at least do it faster?!" "Eh. Onward, to futility!" "We're all doomed." "Life is so hollow."

i think it's not so unlikely because gale also references other characters from the baldur's gate series and the forgotten realms overall, like elminster:

Elminster's not around, so might as well.

as well as halaster blackcloak, a mad mage residing in the undermountain in waterdeep:

I hope Halaster takes good care of Tara while I'm away.

as well as another character from the games, edwin odeisseron:

Don't make me go all Edwin Odesseiron on you.

edwin, a red wizard of thay, was a companion in baldur's gate 1 and 2.

No rest for the wicked, I see.

a common idiom that originated from the bible:

No rest for the wicked begins as no peace for the wicked in a 1425 rendering of the Old Testament’s Book of Isaiah 48:22: “The Lord God said, peace is not to wicked men.” The sentiment is echoed in Isaiah 57:20, which in the King James Version reads: “But the wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt.”

another bible reference may be:

Seek and you shall find me.

You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.

from jeremiah 29:13.

more folklore than an idiom, but:

The witching hour.

Origins. The phrase "witching hour" began at least as early as 1775, in the poem "Night, an Ode." by Rev. Matthew West, though its origins may go further back to 1535 when the Catholic Church prohibited activities during the 3:00 am and 4:00 am timeframe due to emerging fears about witchcraft in Europe.

i couldn't find the poem in full, but i was able to find the line that references the witching hour:

Along whose banks at Midnight’s witching hour (So wayward Fancy dreams) aerial Beings pour!

another shakespeare reference is:

What fools these mortals be.

which is a line from a midsummer's nights dream:

“Lord, what fools these mortals be!” is used in Act III, Scene 2 of A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare. The line is spoken by one of the best-loved characters in the play–Puck. Here is the short quote in which the line appears in: Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand, And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a lover’s fee. Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be! Puck speaks this line to his king, Oberon, while the two are watching the four Athenian main characters lost in the forest. These four lovers, whose love affairs are at the center of the play, are behaving in a way that Puck finds foolish and amusing. It should be noted that Puck bears some of the responsibility for the complicated relations between Helena, Demetrius, Hermia, and Lysander.

this one is, i believe, a dnd reference most likely:

May the dice roll in my favour.

i did however have the immediate association with alea iacta est:

Alea iacta est ("The die is cast") is a variation of a Latin phrase attributed by Suetonius to Julius Caesar on 10 January 49 BCE, as he led his army across the Rubicon river in Northern Italy. With this step, he entered Italy at the head of his army in defiance of the Senate and began his long civil war against Pompey and the Optimates. The phrase, either in the original Latin or in translation, is used in many languages to indicate that events have passed a point of no return. It is now most commonly cited with the word order changed ("Alea iacta est") rather than in the original phrasing. The same event inspired another idiom with the same meaning, "crossing the Rubicon".

Gone with the Weave.

this is a reach, but my mind always went to 'gone with the wind' (margaret mitchell's novel and the 1939 movie adaptation of said novel) when i heard it in the game.

nothing in depth here, i just wanted you all to know that, haha. (((':

A rough tempest I will raise.

this may be another shakespeare reference and this time it's from 'the tempest':

Prospero: Now does my project gather to a head: My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day? Ariel: On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord, You said our work should cease. Prospero: I did say so, When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit, How fares the king and's followers?

on researching, i found a reddit post that also discusses this likely reference.

the last one i want to end the post on is:

Your knight in magic armour.

this line is still bugged and thus i couldn't find it on the wiki, but it's an assist line for a romanced protag.

it obviously referenced the knight in shining armour:

The present-day use of this phrase is, of course, figurative and refers back to the notion of gallant knights saving fair maidens in distress. The reality behind that imagery is dubious and it no doubt owes much to the work of those Victorian novelists and painters who were captivated by the chivalrous ideal of an imagined court of Camelot. Nevertheless, knights did wear armour and that worn by royalty and the high nobility was highly polished and did in fact gleam and shine. The earliest reference that I’ve found to the phrase in print dates from the late 18th century – in The British journal The Monthly Review, 1790, in a poem called Amusement: A Poetical Essay, by Henry Pye: No more the knight, in shining armour dress’d Opposes to the pointed lance his breast

but it also features heavily in art, across various periods in time, like these from john william waterhouse:

i did see someone on reddit also discussing the creator and destroyer line in reference to various deities throughout history, which i thought was interesting as well.

anyhow, thank you for reading! i may have overlooked something so feel free to add your own thoughts!

🖤

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

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e-farmer · 3 months ago

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So i figured now would be a good time to introduce you all to one of the more important individuals in the modern setting of the story of Undergrowth, that being the Main antagonist!

Introducing the Lord of the Great desert, Devourer of Bees and Spiders alike, the Great Cazador himself. Behold! I present to you with his majesty: Valdran Sa'vel Helvyst! His design was wonderfully brought to life by @letulthi, who as always went above and beyond.

While I'd love to go into the complete backstory of Valdran, i wouldn't want to throw out too many spoilers, since I'm keeping his history rather tight lipped atm, gotta treat the OG bad guy for my story with respect, y'know? But if you want some basic facts and whatnot about Valdran, here ya go.

1: Valdran is a Tarantula hawk wasp that originates from the great desert to the west of the kingdom of Undergrowth, and has conquered most of said great desert through brute force.

2: Valdran has a zero tolerance policy on bees, as in the world of Undergrowth, both bees and wasps have absolutely hated each other since the very beginning. (That is to say, Valdran is low-key a racist/wasp supremacist)

3: His crown is made of the remains of a juvenile ancient aspid, (y'know, that one really cool aspid boss mod!) and his armor is made from the shell of a Wyrm of legend that was said to embody darkness and domination.

4: Despite being a power hungry, genocidal dictator, Valdran can be rather merciful to those that don't pose a threat to his conquest. For example, Valdran won't just bulldoze a whole ass village for nothing. A king needs subjects afterall!

#hollow knight #Not my art #Hollow knight oc #Wasp #tarantula hawk wasp #Oc: Valdran #Tales of the Undergrowth

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tosomeonessomeone · 11 months ago

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f*cking mine.

words・ 5.8k /pairings・ Vampire Lee know x Afab!reader / genres・ thrilling?/ warnings・ intercourse, mentions of alcoholic drinks and drugs, minors DNI.

Hello lovely ones! At last, it has arrived ✨ I might have gotten a bit carried away with the plot and added some extra spice 😅, so if you’re underaged, you know the drill. 🐈‍⬛ anon, hope you enjoy it! Ps. yes.. I did a mood board for this fic.

YN and her friends eagerly embarked on their October adventure, seeking the thrill of Halloween in the heart of an eerie forest. Nestled among the trees stood their chosen sanctuary: a rustic cabin, beckoning with promises of mystery and excitement.

As the night deepened, laughter mingled with the rustle of leaves outside. After a lot of booze and a couple joints, truth or dare became their group game of choice, fueling the evening with daring challenges and revealing confessions. Amidst the flickering candlelight, an irresistible dare emerged from the shadows.

One of YN's friends, eyes glinting mischievously, proposed the ultimate challenge: to explore the forbidden path marked by a foreboding sign that declared, "road not taken." The warning was clear, but so was the allure of the unknown.

Despite the lingering doubt, YN felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins, heightened by the warmth of intoxication.

As YN stepped cautiously along the winding trail, her friends' voices lingered in her mind, their laughter echoing through the dense foliage like a distant melody.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this, YN!" Ella’s voice chimed in her memory, tinged with a hint of disbelief.

"Yeah, this is like straight out of a horror movie," remarked Mia, her tone laced with excitement.

YN couldn't help but chuckle at the thought, her breath forming a misty cloud in the cool night air. "Well, what's life without a little adventure, right?"

"True that," came Hyo’s voice, her tone filled with encouragement. "Just don't get lost out there, okay? We don't need a real-life Blair Witch situation on our hands."

The mention of the infamous horror film elicited nervous laughter from YN, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. "Don't worry, I'll find my way back," she reassured them, her voice carrying a note of determination.

With determined steps, YN ventured into the darkness, guided by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the dense canopy above. Each footfall echoed against the forest floor, mingling with the whispers of ancient trees and the flutter of unseen creatures.

The path stretched before her, winding deeper into the heart of the forest with every passing moment. Shadows danced on the edges of her vision, casting doubt and uncertainty upon her path.

The forest enveloped her in its embrace, shrouding her senses in a cloak of mystery and wonder. Every rustle of leaves, every creak of branches, held the promise of adventure and danger intertwined.

As she ventured further along the winding trail, the night itself seemed to hold its breath, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Yet, despite the whispers of caution that echoed in her mind, YN pressed on, driven by an insatiable thirst for discovery.

YN ventured deeper into the forest, her footsteps echoing against the tangled undergrowth, she stumbled upon another cabin, its weathered facade a stark contrast to the one she and her friends called home for the night. The sight of the aged structure sent a shiver down her spine, its timeworn exterior whispering tales of long-forgotten secrets and untold mysteries.

Pausing at the foot of the rickety stairs, YN couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity tugging at her senses. The door, oddly ajar, beckoned to her like a siren's call, promising a glimpse into the unknown depths of the past. For a moment, she hesitated, torn between the allure of exploration and the lingering sense of caution that gnawed at her conscience.

"Okay, YN, let's not get too carried away here," she murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. "This is definitely starting to feel like something out of a horror movie."

As YN turned to leave, her heart skipped a beat as she was startled to find a man standing at the foot of the steps, his presence looming like a shadow against the fading light of dusk. In the dimness, his features were cast in obscurity, a silhouette shrouded in mystery and intrigue.

Frozen in place, YN's eyes traced the outline of the stranger's figure, noting the striking contrast of his dark hair against the pallor of his skin. His attire, adorned with chains that glinted in the fading light, spoke of a persona both enigmatic and alluring, drawing her gaze inexorably towards his face.

Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, YN struggled to find her voice amidst the silence that hung heavy between them. And as the stranger's gaze met hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine, he spoke, his voice a low murmur that echoed in the stillness of the forest.

"Can I help you?" His words, tinged with an air of mystery, hung in the air like a question waiting to be answered, his eyes searching hers for some semblance of recognition or understanding.

Summoning her courage, YN met the stranger's gaze with a steadiness born of determination. "I... I was just exploring," she replied, her voice trembling slightly with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. "I didn't mean to intrude."

As the words tumbled from her lips, YN found herself caught in the currents of a moment suspended in time, the air alive with the promise of possibility and the lingering scent of uncertainty.

"Uhh..." YN hesitated, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I was dared to travel down the trail..." Her words faltered as she reached out to steady herself against the door frame, the weight of the man's scrutiny bearing down upon her.

As the man's gaze lingered on her, YN felt a flush of embarrassment color her cheeks, acutely aware of the disapproval etched into his features. His raised eyebrow spoke volumes, a silent accusation that hung heavy in the air between them.

"So you thought you could explore my house, huh?" The man's words cut through the silence like a knife, his tone laced with thinly veiled contempt.

YN mumbled her explanation, a quick shake of her head accompanied her apology. "No, just the trail. I apologize, I wasn’t going to enter,” she muttered, her voice quivering with a mixture of fear and apprehension.

The man stood there, his gaze piercing through her, his silence hanging heavy in the air like a looming storm. Seconds passed like eternities as YN waited, her nerves on edge, her senses heightened to the slightest movement.

"You do realize that you’re lucky to come across me here. These woods are not a safe place for a young girl like you to be wandering all alone," he murmured, his words a somber reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

YN swallowed hard, her throat dry with fear, her mind racing with a myriad of possibilities. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon her, the realization sinking in that she stood on the precipice of something far more sinister than she had ever imagined.

Then, with deliberate steps, the man began to approach her slowly, each footfall echoing ominously in the stillness of the night. YN's heart raced as she felt the weight of his presence bearing down upon her, making it difficult for her to even lift her gaze to meet his.

With each step backward, YN's heart pounded against her chest like a drumbeat of impending doom. The urge to flee surged within her, fueled by the primal instinct to escape the clutches of the unknown.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

As YN edged backward, her back hit the wall near the door, a momentary lapse that threatened to plunge her into the depths of uncertainty. Her pulse quickened, her breath caught in her throat, as she teetered on the brink of danger. The rough texture of the wall against her skin served as a stark reminder of the confined space, trapping her in the predator's den.

He stopped just in front of her, his figure towering over her like a specter in the moonlight. His voice, soft yet laden with an undercurrent of warning, sent shivers down YN's spine.

Every fiber of her being screamed for escape as she stood pinned against the barrier, her senses heightened to the looming threat that loomed before her.

Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, each one a desperate plea for escape, as she stood frozen in the shadow of his presence. The weight of his touch pressed against her, a tangible reminder of the darkness that lurked within the depths of the forest.

"These are my woods,” he leaned in, whispering close to her ears.

YN's voice trembled as she whispered, her words echoing in the stillness of the night. "Y-your woods?" she repeated, her disbelief palpable in the quiver of her tone.

The man's response sent a chill down her spine, his voice dripping with possessiveness and entitlement. "Yes, dear, my woods," he murmured, his words a chilling reminder of the power he held over the domain in which they stood. "This place belongs to me, and anyone who wanders in is fair game for me to play with."

YN's breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words sinking in like an anchor dragging her deeper into the abyss. The realization dawned on her with a sickening clarity: she was at the mercy of a predator, a wolf among sheep, lurking in the darkness of the forest.

In that moment, fear and defiance warred within her, each vying for dominance over her trembling form.

"Would you like to know my name, darling?" His voice was a sinister whisper, laden with promises of power and submission. "I shall warn you, however, that once you say it, you will become subservient to my every whim and bound to serve me."

Her heart hammered against her chest as he spoke, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air like a dark cloud. YN's mind raced with uncertainty, torn between the allure of knowledge and the fear of what it might entail.

As he stepped back, giving her space to consider his offer, YN felt the weight of his gaze bearing down upon her. His challenge hung in the air like a dare, tempting her to take the plunge into the unknown.

"Are you brave enough to take on the challenge?" His words echoed in the stillness of the night, a test of her courage and resilience in the face of overwhelming darkness.

With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity coursing through her veins, YN summoned her courage and faced the man with the glowing red eyes. Despite the warning echoing in her mind, she couldn't resist the pull of the unknown, the tantalizing allure of discovering his name.

"I... I want to… know your name," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her heart pounding with anticipation and fear.

With a sly smile curling his lips, the man leaned in closer, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly intensity. "My name is Lee Minho, but for a sweet thing like you, you can call me Minho," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down YN's spine.

As the revelation of Minho's name hung in the air like a shroud of darkness, YN felt a momentary lull in the tension that gripped the forest. The weight of his identity settled upon her like a heavy cloak, its implications stretching far beyond the confines of the haunted woods.

In the stillness of the night, Minho regarded her with a knowing smile, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. Yet, amidst the shadows that danced around them, a spark of curiosity ignited within him.

"And what, may I ask, is your name, my dear?" Minho's voice carried a hint of amusement, his words tinged with a sense of intrigue.

YN hesitated for a moment, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily upon her. Yet, in the face of the unknown, she summoned her courage and met his gaze with determination.

"My name is YN," she replied, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling within her.

As the sound of her name echoed in the darkness, YN felt a sense of empowerment wash over her, a reminder of her own agency amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

In that moment, she knew that she had crossed a threshold from which there was no turning back. YN found herself inexplicably drawn to Minho, like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence. There was something about him that transcended the darkness surrounding him, something that spoke to the depths of her soul.

As she stood in his shadow, YN felt a strange sense of familiarity, as if she had known him in another life, in another time. His eyes held secrets untold, mysteries waiting to be unraveled, and despite the danger that lurked within their depths, she couldn't tear her gaze away.

With each moment that passed, the fear that once gripped her heart began to wane, replaced by a curious fascination that defied reason. There was an allure to Lee Minho, a darkness tempered by a glimmer of something more, something that called out to her in the depths of the night.

In his presence, YN felt a sense of belonging, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time and space. And as she stood on the precipice of the unknown, she knew that her fate was intertwined with his, bound by the threads of destiny that wove their way through the tapestry of their lives.

As YN's voice quivered with a mixture of fear and anticipation, she summoned the courage to voice the question that weighed heavily on her mind. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked, her words echoing in the stillness of the night, tinged with uncertainty.

Minho regarded her with an enigmatic smile, his gaze piercing through the shadows that enveloped them. There was a depth to his eyes, a wellspring of secrets and mysteries waiting to be unveiled.

"My dear YN," he began, his voice a melodic whisper that danced on the edge of the wind, "I am bound by the laws of this realm, as are you. What happens next is a journey that we must embark upon together, guided by the currents of fate."

His words held a cryptic resonance, a promise of truths yet to be revealed. YN felt a shiver run down her spine, the weight of his words settling upon her like a heavy cloak.

"In the heart of these woods, we will confront the shadows that linger within our souls," Minho continued, his voice a solemn declaration of intent. "But fear not, for I will be your guide, your protector, and your companion on this journey through the darkness."

As he spoke, YN's gaze lingered on Minho, a chill ran down her spine as she noticed something unsettling: his elongated canines, gleaming in the moonlight, betrayed his true nature—he was a vampire.

The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning, sending shockwaves of fear coursing through her veins. Her heart pounded with a mixture of terror and disbelief as she struggled to comprehend the truth before her.

Finally, YN found her voice, her words trembling with uncertainty. "What... what are you?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes never leaving his.

Minho's smile widened, revealing his gleaming fangs in the moonlight. "I am what you fear most, my dear," he replied, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down YN's spine.

Fear and fascination warred within her, each vying for dominance over her trembling form. As Minho's gaze bore into YN's, his voice, smooth and velvety, pierced the silence like a dagger.

"Shall we have dinner?" he asked, his words laced with a subtle invitation that sent a chill down YN's spine.

Minho's question hung in the air, the weight of its implications echoing in the silence that enveloped them. YN's heart raced as she grappled with the surrealness of the moment, the reality of dining with a vampire sinking in like a heavy stone.

The invitation, so innocently posed yet laden with sinister undertones, sent a shiver down YN's spine. Her instincts screamed at her to refuse, to flee from the darkness that threatened to consume her.

With a trembling breath, YN met Lee Minho's gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I suppose so," she replied, her words tinged with uncertainty, her heart pounding in her chest.

And as they ventured deeper into the heart of his cabin, YN knew that the dinner they shared would be more than just a meal—it would be a dance of shadows and light, a journey into the depths of the unknown, where danger and desire intertwined in a delicate balance.

As they reached the dinning room lit in the soft glow of moonlight and a couple candles, Minho gestured towards a rustic wooden table set with an array of fruits and delicacies. "Please, have a seat," he said, his tone inviting yet tinged with an air of mystery.

YN hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with a thousand questions and uncertainties. But something about Minho's demeanor reassured her, drawing her closer to the table with a sense of cautious curiosity.

As they sat at the rustic wooden table, YN couldn't shake the sense of surrealness that hung in the air like a thick fog. Minho's presence, though captivating, sent shivers down her spine, a constant reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath his charming facade.

Minho poured a glass of deep red wine, his movements graceful and deliberate. "Please, indulge yourself," he said, offering the glass to YN with a small, enigmatic smile.

YN hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the glass, before finally accepting it with a nervous nod of thanks. As she took a sip, the rich, velvety taste flooded her senses, warming her from the inside out.

"So, YN," Minho began, his voice low and melodic, "tell me more about yourself. What secrets do you carry in that beautiful mind of yours?"

YN's heart raced as she searched for words, her thoughts a jumbled mess of fear and fascination. "I... I'm just a girl, really," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing special."

As YN sat there, she couldn't shake the feeling of being nothing more than prey in the presence of a predator. His gaze, though captivating, held an intensity that sent a chill down her spine, a reminder of the darkness that lurked behind his charming facade.

Minho's eyes danced with amusement as he listened to YN's hesitant words, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "Just a girl, you say?" he mused, his voice a soft purr that sent shivers down her spine. "I find that hard to believe."

YN's heart raced as she met his gaze, her pulse quickening with each passing moment. She could feel the weight of his scrutiny, his eyes devouring her with a hunger that sent a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through her veins.

As they sat and dined in the flickering light of the moon, YN couldn't shake the feeling of being nothing more than a mere mortal in the presence of a creature far beyond her understanding. And as Minho's gaze lingered on her, she knew that she was merely a pawn in a game of shadows and light, a game where the stakes were higher than she could have ever imagined.

Minho got up at some point and walked closer, closing the distance between them, YN's heart thundered in her chest, her breath catching in her throat as she felt the heat of his body leaning over hers. Trapped between him and the chair, she could feel the weight of his presence pressing in on her, suffocating her with its intensity.

With a gentle touch, Minho reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek skin like a whisper of silk. YN's breath hitched at the contact, her senses ablaze with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

"Shh, my dear," Minho murmured, his voice a soft caress against her ear. "There's no need to be afraid."

As Minho's breath caressed YN's neck, she couldn't suppress the shiver that coursed through her body. His words, a whispered caress against her skin, sent a thrill of fear and excitement dancing along her spine.

“You smell viciously delicious," Minho murmured, his voice a low, seductive whisper that sent a shiver down YN's spine. "Makes me hot."

YN's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to find her voice, the intensity of the moment rendering her speechless. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, each one a tangled web of fear and desire.

"Wh-what do you mean?" YN stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

Minho's eyes gleaming with a hunger that sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through YN's veins. "It means," he murmured, his voice dripping with temptation, "that you are unlike anything I've ever encountered before, you are special."

YN's eyebrows furrowed with confusion, her mind swirling with a whirlwind of emotions. "Wait.. what?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

Minho's lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes shining with an otherworldly light. "I'm simply showing you the truth, my dear," he replied, his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down YN's spine. "The truth of who you really are… mine… my mate”

The air crackled with tension as YN felt the heat of his gaze upon her, his proximity igniting a firestorm of emotions within her. She could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air, each syllable laden with a hunger that sent her heart racing.

In that moment, YN's senses were overwhelmed by the heady scent of danger and desire that surrounded her. His words, though filled with a darkness she could scarcely comprehend, held a seductive power that she found herself unable to resist.

As Minho's tongue traced a soft line along YN's neck, a tremor of sensation rippled through her body, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins. His touch, though gentle, ignited a firestorm of desire within her, awakening a primal instinct she never knew existed.

YN's breath caught in her throat as Minho's lips kissing a sweet spot near her ear, his kiss sending waves of heat cascading through her. In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the intoxicating allure of the night and the enigmatic figure who held her captive with his touch.

"Your skin," he whispered, his voice a soft caress in the night air, "it sings to me. A melody of temptation and longing."

YN's pulse quickening with each word that fell from his lips. She felt herself drowning in the depths of his gaze, lost in a world where desire and danger danced in a tantalizing embrace.

"In the darkness," he continued, his voice low and melodic, "we are free. Free to explore the depths of our desires, to succumb to the pull of the night."

With a graceful step backward, Minho gently took YN's hand, his touch sending a surge of electricity coursing through her veins. In the dim light of his cabin, his eyes gleamed with an otherworldly allure, drawing her deeper into the shadows.

"Come," he murmured, his voice a soft echo in the night, "there is much to discover.".

With a silent nod, YN followed Minho into the darkness, her heart ablaze with the promise of adventure and discovery. For in the depths through the walls, she would find the truest expression of herself, and the secrets that lay hidden in the depths of her soul.

Minho's touch was gentle yet possessive as he guided her through the labyrinthine corridors, each twist and turn a step deeper into the heart of the unknown.

And as they reached his room, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, YN felt a surge of anticipation course through her veins.

As she felt his grip tighten around her waist, YN's eyes widened, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and desire. The air crackled with tension as she met his gaze, her eyes searching for answers in the depths of his own.

As Minho's hand trailed from her side to her nape, she felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew that this kiss was going to be different, that it was going to be dangerous. And as his lips met hers in a slow burn kiss, she felt his fangs brush against her lower plump lip.

She knew that she should pull away, that she should resist the temptation that Minho offered. But she couldn't help herself. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

As his tongue slipped into her mouth, she tasted the danger and the passion that he offered. She knew that this was a kiss that could destroy her, that could leave her broken and shattered.

And as the kiss finally ended, she knew that she was lost. Lost in the passion and the danger that Minho offered, lost in a world where pleasure and pain were one and the same. But she didn't care. She had tasted the forbidden fruit, and she knew that she would never be the same again.

As Minho's hand slid down to her back, she felt a jolt of electricity run through her. His touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine. And as his other hand played with the bare skin on her waist, she felt a warmth spreading through her body that she had never felt before.

As he kissed his way down to her neck, she felt her heart racing with anticipation. As his lips brushed against her neck, she felt a surge of desire wash over her.

"Are you going to bite me?" she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Lee Minho's eyes held a glimmer of amusement, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Not unless you want me to," he murmured, his voice a soft caress against her skin.

With a trembling breath, YN met Minho's gaze with unwavering resolve, her heart ablaze with the thrill of the unknown.

As Minho's lips brushed against her skin, YN's breath hitched in her throat, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and longing.

"I want to taste you fully," His voice was a soft murmur against her ear, his words sending a shiver down her spine, "before dragging my teeth on your beautiful neck and drinking your blood… marking you as mine"

As Minho slowly undressed her, YN felt a thrill of excitement run through her body. She slowly undressed him in return, she felt a sense of power and control wash over her. She knew that she had him in her grasp too, that she could make him do anything she wanted.

As YN's naked body glowed under the moonlight, Minho couldn't help but let out an animalistic sound, like a predator who had found its prey. He was consumed with desire for her, and he kissed her with a passion and need that left her breathless.

YN surrendered to Minho completely, knowing that she was his to do with as he pleased. She felt his hands roaming over her body, exploring every curve and crevice, and she moaned with pleasure as he took her to new heights of ecstasy.

As Minho moved YN's body slowly towards his king-sized bed, she felt a shiver of excitement run through her. She knew that she was completely at his mercy, and she surrendered to him willingly.

He leaned her down onto her back, and as he kissed down her chest, she felt a wave of pleasure wash over her. He tasted her breasts, making her let out soft moans of pleasure, and she arched her back in response.

Minho's actions were possessive and dominant, and they sent a thrill of excitement through YN's body. She knew that she was completely under his control, and she loved every moment of it.

He whispered in her ear, "You belong to me, and only me. I'll never let anyone else touch you like this."

YN shivered with pleasure at his words, feeling a sense of safety and security in his possessiveness. She knew that he would always protect her, no matter what.

As YN laid on Minho's bed, her body aching with desire, he continued to explore her with his lips and tongue. He moved down her chest, taking one of her breasts into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue.

YN moaned softly, arching her back and offering herself up to him completely. She had never felt so alive, so desired, so wanted.

Minho continued to kiss and lick his way down her body, stopping only to tease her belly button with his tongue before moving further down.

He leaned in, kissing the inside of her thigh before moving to her center, where he began to explore her with his tongue, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

YN moaned louder, her body writhing with pleasure as Minho continued to pleasure her in ways she had never imagined possible. And as she reached the heights of ecstasy, she knew that she was his, completely and utterly, forever.

As Minho continued to kiss and lick his way up to YN's body, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dominance and ownership over her.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and husky. "No one else can ever have you like this. You're my little plaything.”

YN moaned in response, her body trembling with desire as Minho continued to explore her with his lips and tongue. She had never felt so wanted, so desired, so owned.

As Minho locked YN in between his arms, he looked deeply into her eyes and asked her, "Whose are you?"

YN whimpered in response, feeling a sense of pleasure and submission at his possessive words. She looked up at him with desire-filled eyes and replied, "I'm yours, all yours. I belong to you completely."

Minho smiled, a look of satisfaction on his face. He knew that he had complete control over her, and that she would do anything he asked of her.

"Good girl," he said, his voice low and commanding. "You're mine now, and I'm going to make you feel so good."

And with that, he leaned down and captured her lips with his, kissing her deeply and passionately as they lost themselves in a world of pleasure and desire.

As Minho continued to kiss YN deeply, he let his hand travel down between her legs to find it wet. He chuckled as he felt how wet she already was, his fingers tracing up and down on her lower region.

"Already so wet for me?" he whispered in her ear, his voice dripping with desire.

YN whimpered and moaned in response, her body trembling with pleasure as he continued to pleasure her with his fingers. She had never felt so alive, so desired, so wanted.

As YN reached down for Minho's manhood, she couldn't help but gasp at how big and hard it felt in her hand. She stroked it slowly, feeling his body tense up with pleasure as he let out a groan.

YN smirked, feeling a sense of power and control as she continued to pleasure him with her hand. She knew that she was driving him wild with desire, and that he would do anything to make her feel good in return.

As YN lined up Minho's member above her wet folds, she bridged closer to him with her other hand on his back. He took the cue and slammed himself into her without warning or waiting for her to adjust, his lips whispering profanities to her.

"Too big for my new plaything, huh?" he taunted. "Wasn't ready for it, baby girl?" He promised her that his fangs would break into her skin later, making her cry out in fear and pleasure.

Her nails found their way to his back, scratching him as he pounded into her with increasing force. She was overwhelmed by the intensity of their passion, and she knew that she was completely at his mercy.

And as Minho continued to take her to new heights of pleasure and pain, YN surrendered completely to him, knowing that she was his forever, body and soul.

YN felt herself getting closer to orgasm, Minho sensed it and brought his face near her neck, kissing and licking it. Her walls clenched around him, and in the right moment, he bit her neck, his canines deep, drawing out her blood, savoring the taste of her blood and the pleasure that he was giving her.

She let out a deliciously moan alongside a groan of pain, the sensation of the pain and her orgasm taking her higher than the things she used with her friends earlier.

Minho continued jamming into YN's feminine parts, he slammed harder and harder until he finally came, painting her walls white with his release.

YN cried out in pleasure as she felt him release inside her, her body trembling with the intensity of their passion. She knew that she had given herself completely to Minho, and that he had taken her to new heights of pleasure that she had never even dreamed of before.

“You taste so good, baby girl," he said, lapping his tongue over the fresh bite. YN felt completely under his spell, lost in a world of pleasure and desire where nothing else mattered except for the two of them and the love that they shared.

As they lathere, spent and breathless, YN felt a chill creeping into her bones, sending a shiver down her spine. Panic flickered in her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath, her mind racing with uncertainty.

Minho's arms wrapped around her, a reassuring presence in the darkness. "It will be quickly," he murmured, his voice a steady anchor in the turmoil that surrounded them.

Her heart pounding, YN's eyes widened in disbelief. "Quick what?!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with anger and fear, her breaths coming in short gasps.

"Your transformation," Lee Minho stated firmly, his tone unwavering. "You. Are. Mine. Now."

YN's throat tightened at his words, the weight of their implications settling over her like a suffocating blanket. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry with fear, her mind reeling with the enormity of what lay ahead.

In that moment, YN knew that she stood at the precipice of a journey that would irrevocably alter the course of her destiny. With a trembling nod, she silently acknowledged the truth of his words, bracing herself for the darkness that awaited her on the other side.

to be continued?

329 notes · View notes

randomdragonfires · 10 months ago

Text

If The Sun Ever Rises | Chapter 3

Chapter 3 | Live To See Another Day

SUMMARY | After narrowly escaping the Battle Above God’s Eye, Prince Aemond is now a hidden fugitive within the very kingdom he once ruled. Driven by vengeance, he plans to usurp Aegon III and avenge his family. His rage-blinded path to the throne begins with getting rid of Cregan Stark and the men who support his nephew’s rule. Having nothing to lose, he recklessly kidnaps the Northerner’s betrothed - his own niece - hoping to lure him and his men out to fight.

Soon, Aemond finds that memories of a first love are strong, and that he cannot steel his heart against the woman he has loved all his life.

WARNINGS | 18+; Smut; Canon Divergence - Aemond lives (but barely); Violence; Stockholm Syndrome; Mental and Physical Trauma; Angst; Canon Incest; Manipulation; No Happy Endings In This House YAY; Slow burn, I think.

WORD COUNT | 2.2k

Text Divider by @saradika

In the heart of the dense forest, she sprinted, her breath ragged and panicked, each footfall a desperate attempt to outrun the shadows that seemed to stretch and grasp at her heels. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the tang of decaying leaves. The smell filled her senses as she darted between the towering trees. Branches reached out, snagging at her dress and tearing the delicate fabric as she pushed forward, driven by a primal instinct to escape him.

She needed to run. No matter how tiring it felt, she had to run. This was her chance to survive, and survive she would. She could save Cregan and Aegon if she escaped the jungle and warned them. She didn’t know where in Westeros she’d been brought to, nor did she think clearly about how she would make passage back to the Keep. Was Cregan out looking for her? If yes, then she’d have to find him. But how?

No answers. All she knew is that she had to escape Aemond and live to tell the tale. It was this singular goal that kept her running despite the pain.

A glimmer of moonlight danced upon the surface of a small pond, its still waters reflecting the shimmering canopy above. For a fleeting moment, she paused, her breath catching in her throat as she drank in the tranquil scene before her. But the illusion of peace was shattered by the distant echo of pursuit, a reminder that Aemond would have noticed her absence from the cave by now - he was probably out on the prowl like a predator in the night, looking for her.

He’d always been a light sleeper, she knew. Ever since his eye was taken out, Aemond had had trouble resting without panic. He seemed to be at peace when they laid together after he’d had his way with her in better days, but even then, he’d always move at the slightest of sounds - always ready for someone to walk in.

She’d risked running regardless. If she’s made it this far, then she surmised that the Gods were working in her favor. With a shiver of apprehension, she tore her gaze away from the pond and pressed on, her feet pounding against the forest floor in a frantic rhythm. Every step was a battle against exhaustion, her muscles burning with exertion as she pushed herself to her limits.

A low-hanging branch loomed before her, its twisted form a cruel obstacle in her path. With a gasp, she ducked beneath it, the rough bark scraping against her skin as she fought to maintain her momentum. But her efforts were in vain, and she stumbled, her foot catching on a root hidden beneath the undergrowth.

With a cry of pain, she tumbled forward, wet forest floor rushing up to meet her with a bone-jarring impact. Dirt and leaves clung to her skin as she lay there, dazed and disoriented, the world spinning around her in a dizzying blur.

“Mandianna! Come out, wherever you are!” The urgent call of her name sliced through the oppressive silence of the forest, sending a shiver down her spine. Aemond's voice, laced with determination and perhaps a hint of frustration, echoed through the trees, drawing ever closer with each passing moment. With a surge of fear, she forced her weary limbs into motion once more, her heart hammering in her chest as she pushed herself to run faster, harder, desperate to avoid being taken back.

A sudden rustling in the underbrush brought her to a halt, her heart pounding in her chest as she scanned the darkness for signs of movement. And then she saw it – a boar, with a pair of gleaming eyes peering out from the shadows, its gaze fixed upon her with a predatory intensity.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they locked eyes, predator and prey poised on the brink of confrontation. With a surge of terror, she turned to flee, but it was too late. The massive boar burst forth, its wild eyes fixed upon her with a hunger that sent a shiver of fear coursing through her veins. She stumbled backward, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched the beast charge toward her with relentless determination.

Her legs burned with exertion as she pushed herself to run faster, but the boar was gaining ground with every thunderous stride. Panic surged within her as she realized that escape was futile, that she was about to die.

And then, with a sickening thud, it collided with her, its massive weight crashing into her with bone-crushing force. She cried out in pain as she was knocked to the ground, the impact driving the breath from her lungs and sending waves of agony coursing through her battered body.

The boar loomed over her, its hot breath washing over her face as it prepared to deliver the killing blow. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable, when suddenly, a flash of steel cut through the darkness.

With a roar of defiance, Aemond leaped forward, his shortsword flashing in the moonlight as he drove the blade deep into the boar's side. The beast squealed in pain, its massive form recoiling as Aemond fought to keep it at bay.

With a desperate cry, she scrambled to her feet, her hands shaking as she searched for something, anything to defend herself. And then, with a surge of determination, she snatched up a fallen branch, brandishing it like a weapon as she moved to join the fray.

Together, they fought with a fierce intensity, their blows raining down upon the boar with relentless fury. With each strike, they drove the beast back, inch by inch, until finally, with a final, guttural snarl, it collapsed to the ground, lifeless eyes staring blankly into the darkness its lifeless body twitched.

Gasping for breath, she sank to her knees, her body trembling with a mixture of fear and relief. And as she looked up at Aemond, standing before her with his bloodied blade in hand, she knew that she owed him her life, that he had risked his own save her from the jaws of death.

The high of the encounter with the boar began to ebb away, and she found herself overwhelmed. Every muscle in her body quivered w.ith the aftermath of fear, and she struggled to contain the tremors that wracked her frame. Her sobs and fear-of-death induced screams carried through the air around her as she filled the forest with her wails.

Wordlessly, Aemond approached her with a bloodied face and body, his expression unreadable as he reached out a hand to help her to her feet. She expected anger, reproach, perhaps even threats for her foolish attempt to escape, but to her surprise, there was none of that. Instead, there was only a quiet determination in his eyes - if she didn’t know better, she’d have said that he was trying to make her feel safe.

Why did he save her?

With a hesitant nod, she allowed him to lead her back through the forest, her steps faltering as she leaned heavily on his support. They went with her blood red-stained hands around him, his arm around her waist leading the way. Every rustle of leaves, every snapping twig sent a jolt of pain coursing through her, but she forced herself to press on, to trust in the silent strength of her abductor, whom she now owed her life to. His expression remained stoic, his gaze fixed firmly on the path ahead as though nothing had happened.

It was only when they finally reached the safety of their makeshift camp that she allowed herself to sink into the comfort he provided. Without a word, he set about tending to her injuries, his touch gentle and reassuring as he cleaned the cuts and bruises that marred her skin. Her body still tender from the recent ordeal, the dampness of the cave seeped into her threadbare clothes, adding to the chill that pervaded her bones. The scent of earth and moss mingled with the faint aroma of the herbs Aemond had used to dress her wounds, creating a heady concoction that filled the air around her.

Every movement sent jolts of pain shooting through her. Despite the life-threatening encounter, she could not help the tinge of red on her face when he held her cheek to treat her forehead scrape. She continued to blush as he touched her arms, her hands, her calves, and pushed her dress up by just a little to work on her thigh. It was pathetic, but the Gods played cruel games - wherever his touch went, her simple little heart seemed to follow.

He brought her here, and he took care of her. He’d treated her wounds, fed her, given her her time to heal - but why? If he was coming for every person that she loved, why was he being patient with her? Everything perplexed her, gnawing at the edges of her consciousness like a persistent itch she couldn't scratch. His lack of anger at her failed escape attempt fazed her to no end, and she waited for him to lash out at any given second.

“What are you going to do with me?”

He smirked, and it was all she could do to keep herself from slapping it off of his face. He wordlessly looked up at her, sapphire gleaming in the streaks of sunlight seeping through the walls.

“You want to kill my brother. You want to kill my intended. You want to take the throne. You’ve abducted me from Winterfell to draw them out… but what will you do to me, if Gods forbid, your scheming bears fruit? If you win and become King, will you make an example out of me?”

He continued to treat her injuries, seemingly not taking into consideration any of her words. It was like speaking to a wall - she could see the thoughts in his mind running rampant, with him making calculated moves as to what to tell her and what to not. It reminded her of back when he’d hold her - fingers dancing over the skin of her back as she mumbled in her sleep-addled state. His responses would always be well thought out and slow - the mysteriousness of it all had endeared her back then, but it frustrated her to have it work against her now.

When he finished, he stood and took a few steps back. His questioning gaze fell to her as she looked at him too, but no answer came. As she watched Aemond gather firewood and set up a bonfire outside the cave, the cold air around her seemed to seep deeper into her bones. Memories of the boar's attack haunted her, intensifying the pain that already gnawed at her battered body. She hugged her knees tightly, trying to steady herself against all odds.

She said nothing as silent tears streamed down her cheeks, her sobs echoing softly in the cavernous darkness. Aemond didn't look her way once as he worked, his movements precise and methodical, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil that raged within her. She watched him move about with a silent efficiency that spoke volumes of his familiarity with the surroundings - something she now knew she did not have. His tall, lean figure moved with a grace that belied the strength beneath his skin, his every action deliberate and purposeful. Despite the circumstances, she couldn't deny the allure he held. Despite her better judgment, she found herself looking at the lean muscle of his arms through his bloodied undershirt.

When the fire roared to life, casting flickering shadows across the cave walls, she felt a sense of warmth wash over her. With trembling limbs, she rose from her spot and stepped outside, taking a seat near the fire as she contemplated her situation. She looked around for Aemond, and found that he had walked into the water of the river to clean himself up. She knew that she should too, but she was too tired and scared of the possible sting of her injuries in the water to bother.

She couldn't escape him, not now, not in her weakened state, not ever. The forest was vast and unforgiving, and she was ill-equipped to navigate its treacherous depths alone. With a heavy heart, she made peace with her current situation and lowered herself sideways onto the forest floor, her gaze fixed on the dancing flames before her. As she lay there, lost in her thoughts, she felt Aemond's presence approach. She didn't meet his eyes as he crouched down beside her, his sigh heavy with emotions that she could not name. His mismatched eyes held secrets she longed to unravel, but she knew better than to trust in the illusion of safety they offered.

What will you do to me?

"I will not hurt you," he said quietly, his words hanging in the air like a fragile promise.

The weight of his declaration settled over her like a heavy blanket, comforting yet suffocating in its implications. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze, her mind consumed by visions of the boar's eyes and the fear that still lingered.

In the flickering light of the fire, she fell into a tired, fitful sleep, her dreams haunted by shadows, whispers, and the faint echo of Aemond's solemn vow. As darkness swallowed her whole, she clung to the flickering light of hope that burned within her, a beacon in the midst of the storm.

I will not hurt you.

Next Chapter

A/N: I've been excited about writing this chapter for so long. It wrote itself REALLY, REALLY QUICK!

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yoonia · 7 months ago

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the bedroom hymns ● chapter xx

⟶ Chapter summary | Once the gate of secrets about your mother has been opened, it seems that magic is slowly guiding you to follow the traces your mother’s left behind in this realm. As if her shadows still remain, and you are now tasked to find every piece of her still left behind.

Author's note | I never expected that the break I took between this chapter and the last would go so long. I'm so sorry for the long wait. I hope the longer chapter makes up for the lack of update

chapter xx. traces

The scent of the forest hangs heavily in the air—the remnants of rain, the rich fragrance of earth, and the slightly humid, yet strongly pine-scented breeze.

As you walk between the trees, a thick white mist rises from the ground around you, making it somewhat hard to look at what you are stepping on or where you are going. This place is dark, even if there are still some streaks of light visibly falling from the sky. But those lights don’t seem strong enough to pierce through the thick foliage, nor can they penetrate through the dense fog moving together with you. Not enough to illuminate your surroundings so you can see better. Only enough to show you the unmoving shadows that are present around you and helping to stop you from crashing into trees or stumbling against a boulder hiding beneath the undergrowth.

Still, the darkness cannot stop you from searching through the woods to find out where you are.

You hadn’t exactly expected to be in the depths of a forest like this when you first stepped through the magic door. Perhaps you should have expected that your secret exploit would be a peculiar one tonight, given the circumstances leading you here.

The silver door that you had chosen for this evening’s adventure was completely different from the ones you went through before, after all.

Hidden at the end of the hallway where the treasure rooms are located, the door looked more like a sculpted wall ornament, sunk deeply into the stone walls with nothing more but a small alcove marking its existence and floral embellishments carved on its surface. You may have walked past it many times before, yet never once had you ever paid much attention to it, thinking that it was merely a decorated wall to grace the treasure rooms’ hall.

It wasn’t until early this evening that things ended differently—when you walked past the hall after leaving the library much later than usual. You were carrying with you the book which had caught your interest while spending your free time reading in the library—the Encyclopaedia of Ancient Monsters and Magic Beasts—barely even thinking of anything other than to quickly bring it back to your bedchamber so you could continue reading through the pages. You had every intention to later compare everything you learned from that book with the texts written in the ancient spell book you acquired during your trip to the Mage City of Aeris. What better way to do so than to be in your private quarters, lest to have your tutors questioning your new book had they saw it in the library.

You had your arms wrapped around the book when you turned the corner where the magic door was hidden, clutching it against your chest while picturing the images you saw from it. You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost believed you were imagining things when the plain embellishments on the wall suddenly began shimmering.

As if the carvings on the wall were reacting to your presence.

Perhaps something else had caused it? Something that had been in your possession for the first time as you travelled down that hall this time, maybe?

You cannot help but wonder as you reach down, gently tapping the sling bag hanging to your side where the book is now being kept secure. Thinking about it now, you remember that the glimmer of light coming from the carvings had not been all that had drawn you toward the hidden door.

While you were still struggling to make sense of what was happening, your necklace was also beginning to show a reaction. It felt subtle at first, yet the warmth pressing on your skin from the back of your ruby amulet was hard to ignore. It reminded you of how your necklace showed some peculiar reactions during your last trip, when it seemed to respond to the magic found in Aeris.

As you came to a halt, the warmth coming from the gemstone started growing stronger. Your eyes flew to the alcove as the magic essence of the portal began to emerge, revealing to you that the sculpted embellishments had been something more than just a wall ornament.

The whisperings of the magic came to you next, enchanting you to come closer, compelling you to reach into your pocket and pull out the silver key. At first, you weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to do. Looking at the carved wall in front of you, there was no possible guide telling you how you were going to use your magic key on a piece of carved ornament.

But then the carvings on the wall began to change form. The plain grey shades painted on the carvings slowly turned into silver plates right before your eyes. The linings beneath the alcove shifted into what appeared to be a doorframe, and then a keyhole emerged between the carvings of a pair of wings on the side which you have never noticed before.

A baffled laughter climbed up your throat as you watched in disbelief. “A door? This was a door this whole time?” you wondered loudly as the silver door took its final form right at the center of the dark wall.

You could barely process what was happening even as the scene was unfolding right before your eyes. The door seemed to have enchanted you with its charm, drawing you closer towards it as the silver carvings magically glimmered brightly like the moonlight.

Reaching deep into your pocket, you keep your eyes on the door as you pull out the magic key. Your heartbeat skipped a beat as you carefully inserted the key and turned until a resounding click echoed through the empty hall. There was no handle emerging from the door, yet it opened on its own, bringing in a strong cold breeze that felt nothing like anything you ever had encountered before as it slowly widened right in front of you.

Another peculiarity happened as the magic portal was activated. As you pushed the door wider, the usual sight of the dark blue void wasn’t what appeared in the opened doorway. Instead, you saw the sight of a dark forest, as if it had been hidden right on the other side of the wall instead of across the realm—wherever your new destination might be.

To be able to see the new world that you were about to step into was a new experience. You wondered if you should be wary about stepping in. But this was unlike your previous excursions, where you had to go blindly into the portal without having any clue where you were going to end up next. What laid before you seemed like a challenge, and at the same time, a promise.

A promise of a new and exciting adventure that you would regret never getting into. A new world to learn.

So you gathered yourself together, not even bothering to think about how you were going to miss supper by stepping out of the castle so late. After quickly grabbing your coat and a sling bag to carry your magic books along with you, you stepped through the door and began your journey across the realm.

So far, everything about this new adventure of yours has been out of the ordinary, just as much as how it began.

As if the events leading you to open the portal hadn’t been peculiar enough, the magic portal had sent you emerging at the center of a dark forest. The portal, which had appeared as a part of an alcove which was built into a wall, opened up on what seemed to be the mouth of a small cave once you got to the other side of it.

“Magic is a very peculiar thing,” was the only thing you could say as you looked back at the portal which had manifested between the alcove forming the cavern’s entrance. Unlike the other portals, you were able to see the dark hallway that you had just stepped out of. Only you were made to feel as if you were looking at it through a tinted-blue glass as the void manifested around the opening like a protective shield.

It still baffles you even now to think about it, as you are trudging through the thick woods, continuing your journey without even knowing if you are going in the right direction.

Only fates know how long it has been since you came to this place. With nothing but the night sky above and trees in a myriad of shapes and sizes surrounding you, it is hard to tell how much time has passed.

The white mist keeps growing thicker as you keep going, covering the ground beneath. You can barely see your own legs as every step you take going forward seems to be engulfed in the peculiar mist as you get deeper into the forest. This has been going on for a while, and you are beginning to wonder if you will ever find a way to get out of these thickets.

At least you have reached the part of the forest where the trees are no longer as dense as before. Yet, despite being no longer close-packed together, their sizes seem to grow significantly larger that they still fill the forest with their presence. Their thick boughs spread wider here to make up for the thinning foliage above, leaving nothing more but fractured streaks of moonlight streaming down from the night sky. Still, it barely helps you see your way through, as the white mist continues to gather thickly around your legs and is slowly climbing higher, as high as your elbows.

The forest is also quiet.

The sound of gravel, fallen branches, and dry leaves crunching beneath your boots becomes your only company. Thick bushes and tall wildflowers growing as far up to your waist are spread between the thick trees. One too many times, the tips of your boots would get tangled in them, if not coming in contact with sharp rocks that are hidden under the mist.

While none of these obstacles would be enough to tip you over, they are still enough to make you grow more cautious. To be wary of where you are stepping your foot next.

The shadows around you are still, adding the eeriness which makes you feel as if you are being swallowed by the darkness around you. The temperature is slightly colder than the darkest hallways of Stargrave. Colder than the damp alleyways of the slum area back in Smotia.

But the air also feels like a comforting embrace here that you barely feel the urge to tighten your cloak to protect yourself. How odd, indeed, you wonder to yourself as you continue to walk deeper into the forest while feeling like you are walking in a dream.

A dream that is more peculiar than the one that you have been getting lately.

Even the trees growing around you appear like parts of an eerie dream as you look closer. The trunks are thick and massive, twisted and bent in sinister shapes and appear as if they are decaying as they grow in various shades of grey. The same thing appears on the sweeping branches that seem to grow out of those giant trunks like twisted hands reaching into the darkness.

Yet those limbs don’t appear bare. Not all of them. Some of the thicker ones are full of leaves, growing in dark teal that appear almost black, yet are glowing like jewels under the night sky. The ones that are bare without leaves almost look like giant fingers, pointing out through the darkness as if they are trying to reach out to you as you walk underneath them.

Below, the undergrowth begins to grow denser. With more bushes and rough hedges thickly covering the ground, high grass reaching almost to your knees and small tree buds popping from between the giant ones. The flower beds grow more scarce around here that the forest now appears to your eyes in monochrome colours of grey and deep teal.

A rustling sound coming from somewhere nearby catches your attention—sounding almost like a clear snap against the silence that has befriended you—and you come to a sudden halt. The sudden shift of movements brings your sling bag swinging forward, knocking against the back of your calves. The weight of the books inside the bag adds an extra punch as it swings along your body, while the weight of your cloak tries to drag you sideways with it when it falls around you.

“Ouch,” you hiss at the sudden impact while adjusting your sling bag and straightening up before gravity has the chance to bring you down.

The rustling sound continues, causing you to grow more alert this time. Spinning, you search for the sound. Scanning through the trees around you isn’t helping much, however. The foliage is still too dense, the space around you is still too dark, and it is making it hard for you to determine where the sound is coming from. So you wait, all while doing your best to grasp the change in the air and force yourself to listen to any other noises that may follow.

A gust of wind bursting through the foliage makes you realise that the sounds may not be coming from anywhere around you. Nowhere close, for sure, as you see no movement in the dark even when the wind breezes across once more.

It’s coming from above.

The thought soon registers in your mind just as a blip of darkness steals away the barely-there moonlight penetrating through the thick foliage from above. You look up, drawn by your curiosity when another rustle of leaves, followed by a burst of cold breeze, lures your attention to the night sky.

And that is when you see it as it happens right before your eyes.

Beyond the top of the trees reaching so far up high to the night sky, something massive passes above you. Flapping its giant wings with leisure, it glides across the starry sky, covering the ground below with its shadow before it disappears from sight as it continues its journey.

It isn’t until another passes by with the same motion, and then another, drifting in the air so gracefully that it almost feels like you are still dreaming when you begin to understand what you are seeing.

Dragons.

A wave of cold shivers runs through your body. Before you realise what you are doing, you are already moving. Your legs are unsteady, yet they still carry you forward, even if your steps may be a little too haste. Navigating through the thick woods will surely be a hassle, particularly in this unfamiliar darkness and while you are trying to catch up with the movements of the dragons flying above.

But you refuse to give up.

You refuse to let go of any chance to get a better look at these magnificent beasts that you had only seen pictures of in the books you have read—more significantly, in the book that you are carrying now inside your bag—and you wish to see more of the place where these giant beasts truly exist.

With one hand clutching tightly on the sling of your bag and the other wrapped firmly around the handle of the golden dagger that you keep hanging on your hip, you march forward, following the cold trail of wind left behind by the flying dragons.

You keep your gaze forward, with only short glances to the sky above to look as a few more dragons come flying by. Some are much smaller than the ones you saw before, a few more that look to be average in size, and then the last and largest one glides across the sky, shaking the trees around you with each flap of its giant wings.

So you begin to run.

Racing through the twisted and bent trees, you try to keep up with those dragons before you lose sight of them The snapping sounds of your rapid footsteps crossing through the undergrowth coming in your way follow you, yet they are barely noticeable when the air is filled with the sounds of their flights—the flaps of their wings, the gentle swish of their tails, and their staggering roars and high-pitched calls as they get further away from the woods.

You ignore the slight pain you feel as bare, low-hanging branches reach out to you like bony fingers—snagging your cloak and hair, snapping and nicking at your skin. Yet not once do you falter, not even allowing yourself to slow down when running out of breath. And you continue to run until you finally reach the end of the woods.

The trees open up to a spread of high grass which ends with a wall of low boulders merely several feet away, right where the levelled land ends before it drops into what appears to be a ravine.

You look up, following the movements of the last dragons as they glide above the wide length of the chasm, heading towards the tall mountain on the other end. Right atop that mountain, you see the sight of an old castle appearing in the darkness, its walls rising in dark stones that glimmer under the stars and the moonlight shining from above. Built to look like it serves as the crown of the mountain, the castle seems to blend into the rocky cliff below.

Much like the Stargrave Castle.

The only difference is that your new home doesn’t have giant dragons of all sizes, shapes, and colours flying around it in a circular motion as if they are worshipping it. As if they are protecting their home.

Gaping at the astonishing sight before you, your breath is caught. You can hear the sound of your heartbeat getting louder as you watch the last dragon you followed joining the others circling the castle on the rocky mountain. The sounds of their calls echo through the night. Like a birdsong.

Speechless, you can only admire this sight in silence with goosebumps rising on your skin. You simply cannot believe it.

You know exactly where you are.

E'l Alora.

The dragons’ lair.

The place that you had just learned and read about from the book that is now weighing down your sling bag—the Encyclopaedia of Ancient Monsters and Magic Beasts. The book which tells you about the monsters of the night that you are now seeing right before your eyes.

This place is real, you muse, finding yourself moving forward before realising it as if you are drawn by the sight of dragons—real dragons—flying so elegantly in the dark sky.

You stop by the boulders, and a cold shiver rushes through your body as you get a closer look at the ravine before you. The widespread of chasm that looks like a dark void, separating you from the mountain and its glimmering black castle standing on its crown.

But as you lean forward to take a good look down below, you are caught by surprise at what you find hidden down there. Instead of seeing a massive fall of rocky walls ending into an abyss, you can see that there is life. Life other than the dragons.

A civilization growing on the walls.

Houses and buildings are built into the rocky mountain wall, levelling from the highest part of the wall to the lowest section down below, with long-winding streets and ramps connecting one to the other. A shadow of a bridge appears in the darkest part of the ravine, crossing between the town on the wall to the foot of the cliff far beneath the dragons’ castle.

And just like how the rocky mountain across the ravine is now lively with those giant dragons floating in the sky, the town below you is wide awake. There are lights everywhere, illuminating the town as they are set alight from the buildings and homes, and there are streetlights standing on the edge of the road, allowing you to see everything from up high.

You can see the people from the town moving in and out of those buildings, strolling up and down the streets, with carriages and carts led by massive horses driving on the streets like what you see in any regular towns. And they all seem to be going about their evening as if it is just any normal night.

As if having giant dragons flying in the sky is a normal occurrence to have in their everyday lives.

Drawn by your curiosity, you follow the path from the top of the hill which you are stranded in that leads you towards the bustling town below. With the hood of your cloak pulled up neatly back in place, your hands clutching the sling of your bag and your dagger sheathed nicely against your hip, you ready yourself to continue your adventure.

To get a closer look at this odd town, to meet the residents you see finishing their nightly activities, and hopefully, learn more about how they are able to live peacefully alongside the magnificent beasts gathering close by, with nothing more but the deep chasm separating them from one another.

The human town of E’l Alora was already a breathtaking sight to look at from the top of the cliff. But nothing beats being at the center of it where you can have a closer look at everything.

Houses, apartments, shops, and other buildings built with dark-coloured stones reflecting the moonlight seem to be blending into the rocky walls. They appear as if they manifested from the cliff walls on the side of the ravine instead of being built against it. Some buildings are several stories high, with open staircases and balconies made up of muted grey-coloured stones, allowing the darker facade of the building to stand out more. Some houses are built low enough that they seem to sink into the rocky walls, with rocks carved in slates to form structures and roofs framing each house.

The stone-covered road looks sturdy, smoothed nicely to follow each dent and curve of the ravine walls as it connects each house and building. As you walk down the road and finally get a good look at it from up close, you notice that some of the stones seem to sparkle and glitter, as if there are broken pieces of diamonds or gemstones implanted into the stones.

Being in the town means you are not only getting the first look at the townspeople—most of whom are still doing their routines and working even as the night is growing late and the sky darker—but you are also getting a closer look at the flying dragons above. You can even feel the hard whoosh coming down between the draft of wind each time a dragon flaps its giant wing.

It amazes you to see that while you are marvelling at this new experience with wonder, the townspeople you come across seem to be more nonchalant about the presence of these giant beasts. Even when the dragons are so close, flying right above their town, sometimes gliding lower than the others as if to have a closer look at the town and their neighbours.

Strange how they can simply carry on with their evening, with only a small few of them who would occasionally glance up with fond smiles on their faces as they watch the dragons gliding closer.

To say that you are completely stunned to be able to witness this seems like an understatement. A glorious shudder runs through you when you realise how privileged you are to be experiencing something like this.

Something that you would have never come across had you not been gifted the chance through your father’s magic.

Sighing deeply, you lean back in your seat, your eyes never wandering away from the open window beside you as you continue to look out and enjoy the scenery. You had continued walking until you reached the town square before you finally stumbled into this place; a three-story building divided into three different functions—a small tavern on the ground level, rented rooms on the second floor, and a private apartment on the top floor.

You have found the tavern as the perfect place to find shelter, while earning you the front seat of what is currently unfolding in this town. This part of the town is built on a section of the wall which extends toward the center of the ravine, getting you a bit closer to the foot of the mountain where the castle is built.

Staring out at the dark castle standing atop the mountain, with your book about dragons lying on your lap, your mind wanders to the one person you cannot help but wish to accompany you right now.

You wonder what it would have been like if only Yoongi had been here, sitting in this dimly lit room together with you, his sharp eyes watching every movement coming from the dragons. You wonder what kind of stories he would be sharing with you, or what type of jokes he would be throwing at you had he seen you looking flabbergasted the first time you arrived in this place.

It is really hard not to think about Yoongi at times like this, although you cannot say that you understand the reason why. It’s not like you have known him for your entire life and so deeply that he would be the first to come to your mind while you are travelling across realms.

Yet he haunts your mind in every second that you breathe. Always coming into your thoughts either when you are feeling lonely or when you find yourself lost in a strange place.

The way Yoongi constantly preoccupies your mind makes you believe that you are seeing his shadows everywhere you look. Never missing the trails left behind to show you that he may have stepped foot in the places that you are visiting.

It happened to you back in Aeris, when you saw the crest of The Brotherhood of Jorn stamped in various places you came across—on the bulletin boards, on the streetlight poles, and some on the walls of the back alleys. You have been seeing the same thing here ever since you first entered the human town of E’l Alora, when you caught sight of the same crest stamped and painted on the gates and announcement boards that the townspeople use to put up the local news, even on the walls of a few of the establishments that you walked pass by while heading to this place.

Even here, right in this tavern, you can see the same crest marked on the wall across the room, where a long table is set as if it was prepared specifically to hold a group meeting.

“We leave our crests in places where we often use as our rendezvous spots. Places for us to recoup, gather information, find work, or have a little downtime between our expeditions. The crest is a mark of our trail, showing our gratitude for the people who welcome us, and the people that we owe our strength to. It also lets them know that they can rely on the brotherhood whenever they need us.”

Yoongi shared this when you talked about seeing his crest everywhere you went. You can almost picture it now in your head, the mercenaries wearing various armours and disguises gathering on that same table, Yoongi amongst them, boasting about their journeys while sharing drinks and hot meals as they gather at that long table.

As always, thinking of Yoongi makes you smile. Even better when you imagine listening to him speak. You love how deeply he often speaks about the things that he brings up in your conversations, even when he is discussing something as benign as the weather. Often with a smug smile on his face when he talks about all the things you have no knowledge of.

You wonder what he would say if you had the chance to share the things that you have been learning for the past week—how much you have advanced in controlling your energy and mana and making use of it in exchange for your locked magic. You wonder how he would react if you share with him what you have recently learned from Lord Gordan—about the true nature of your skills that you may have inherited from your mother.

Would he somehow recognise the skill, or maybe he would be able to reveal who you are based on this peculiar skill alone?

Knowing how knowledgeable he is about magic and everything else related to this realm, you wouldn’t be too surprised if he ever learned about your mother. There is a sense of unease when you think about it, however, to think of the possibility that he may know more about your mother and your heritage than you do.

Thinking of Yoongi takes you back to the day before, when you came to the city of Aeris. Your findings of the Mage City and its spectacular perks seem to be pushed to the sidelines whenever the cloaked figure you saw that day comes to mind.

Looking back, you wonder if your desire to see Yoongi again has grown so strong that it is taking over your sanity. You were quite sure that the figure had spent a brief moment standing right outside of the magic shop. His presence a lurking shadow in the bright city, watching your movements while you were in the shop.

Chasing him was an instinct that you couldn’t resist to follow. Drawn entirely by your curiosity, and perhaps the dire need to see if it had been the one you desired to see the most, only to be led into a futile chase through the city.

Regret still follows you to this day, only because losing his trail in the bustling city square had left you with no answer. Nothing to stop you from wondering why that figure had felt so familiar to your eyes.

At least your trip hadn’t ended with you coming home from the Mage City completely empty-handed.

The shopkeeper of l'Équinoxe had been kind enough to wait for your return. She asked no questions when you came back to the shop, simply welcoming you back with a smile before helping you purchase the spell book which she had gone to fetch for you. The same spell book which had later taken away a few hours you had late in the night as you spent it reading the pages.

Cold breeze flows through the open window, pulling your wandering mind back to present. It pushes against the void that has been growing in your chest from Yoongi’s absence, causing your entire body to tremble.

As you reach out to grab your discarded cloak to find some semblance of warmth, a large cup of hot steaming drink manifests in front of your eyes. It lands with a soft thud when placed on the table before you. The scent of fresh herbs mixed with spice and rum fills your senses, warming your chest before you even have a taste.

“Here you go. This should help warm you up. It’s a specialty of ours in this town,” says the tavern keeper as he stands to the side of your table.

Lord Merryl—as he introduced himself to you earlier when he first approached you to offer you shelter—is a tall and built man who is only slightly taller than Lord Gordan, with greying hair that grows as long as his shoulders and a thin dark beard dusted in grey covering his sharp jaw.

Thinking about how you met previously warms your cheeks. You must have seemed like a lost puppy when you walked past the tavern earlier, your eyes wandering around as you tried to take everything in while figuring out where to go. When Lord Merryl first came to you and invited you into his establishment, he did so in the most gentle way that one would do to offer a safe shelter for a stray getting lost in a strange town.

Looking back at it now, you realise that he wasn’t the only one who had given you a friendly welcome.

When you first walked into the town, you had expected that the magic inside your necklace would take effect, shielding you from others. Yet, aside from the soft hum still following you through the vibrating ruby amulet, nothing else happened. Bereft of the usual warmth of its protective spell, it simply clung onto you with its lightweight pressing on your skin.

It didn’t seem to matter, however, when instead of gaining accusing stares and cold shoulders from the townspeople that you met, you only received warm smiles and kind greetings. There were even some who came up to you, giving you directions and showing you where to go, until you finally reached the town square where Lord Merryl found you.

It makes you smile just thinking about it. To realise how good it feels not to be invisible.

Murmuring your gratitude, you pick up the cup and take a dainty sip. A voluntary hum slips out of you as the warmth spreads through your body, instantly calming your senses and washing away your weariness. “This is lovely.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Lord Merryl’s lips rise to a smile of pride. “I meant it when I said I would have the perfect ale to soothe your mind.”

You cannot help but laugh as you recall him saying those words when he first came to you earlier. “Yes,” you nod, “I suppose you’ve only proven your words to be true.”

Releasing a deep sigh, you embrace the warmth now coursing through your body. Turning back to look out the window, you can feel your body relaxing as you continue taking in the view and doing some more people—and dragon—watching.

The town indeed feels lively with the townspeople walking up and down the street, some lingering in the town square to enjoy their downtime while others are still working in their shops and the open establishments that are visible from where you are sitting. The sounds of their muted chatters and faint laughter fill the night as they greet each other upon passing by. You can see small groups of people sharing friendly conversations on the side of the street, and there is a faint sound of musical strings echoing from somewhere down the road.

Street musicians, you wonder with a smile. A town really couldn’t go without one present.

At one glance, this place does seem like any other town you’ve been to. And it would’ve been that way if not for the fact that there are dozens or more dragons flying above their heads right now, their high trills and calls echoing through the ravine, causing your chest to tremble along with the noises they are making.

“Quite a remarkable view to see, isn’t it? Sometimes one can forget how uncommon our lives are because we’ve gotten so used to this, until we remember that not all in this realm can experience living in a place like our home,” Lord Merryl muses as he notices how you keep following the dragons’ movements with your gaze.

You simply cannot help it, after all. Unable to look away from the mythical beings that you have always believed to be a part of a myth, or Ancient creatures that should no longer exist in this more modern time.

And they are quite a sight to look at.

Most of the dragons have stopped circling around the dark castle a while ago, leaving only a couple of the larger ones flying up there as if keeping a close watch of their territory. You can see the shadows of the ones who are now perched on the towers and the rise of the wall around the castle from afar, while you see some of the smaller ones now flying close to the human town, floating in and out of the ravine, allowing you to have a clearer view whenever they glide right over the town square.

You are beginning to understand the reason why Lord Merryl had given you the seat by the window when you first came in. The place in his establishment which allows you to have the perfect view of the town and its special perks. He must have noticed how mesmerised you were with the sight of the dragons, unable to resist glancing back up at them while you were walking down the street, making you look vulnerable, lost, and—quite understandably—disoriented.

“I’ve learned quite a bit about E’l Alora and its dragons, yet the book that I’ve read so far had insinuated that this place was a sacred land which only existed in Ancient times. So please excuse my disbelief and ignorance which you may have seen for yourself when I first arrived here,” you share with him while pasting a smile, leaving out the fact that you have only been reading the book today.

It wouldn’t matter if you had spent all afternoon studying all the facts and myths about this place from your book, getting lost in the tales and the history of dragons. You had only stopped when the untranslated texts at the end pages caught your eyes, leading you to carry the book out of the library to study them more despite having been forbidden to do so.

What little information written in the textbook about this place hadn’t been enough to prepare you for what you have found so far. Which means that there are bound to be more secrets about this place waiting to be unveiled.

“It was already a pleasant surprise to find that this place exists, much less to find out that even the dragons still live here, right where their home castle still stands. Still so marvellous and grand.” Your body shivers, feeling the excitement building up as you think about what other things you may find simply by being here.

“But what’s more surprising for me to find is that there are mortals living here, in a town that looks like it had manifested from the mountain, and that there is a peaceful life shared here between the mortals and these magnificent dragons.”

There is a pride smile on the tavern keeper’s face when you look at him again. “This is the life that we’ve all known for centuries,” Lord Merryl claims as he takes the seat at the table, right across from you. “The dragons protect us, and we protect the dragons.”

Eyes widening, you straighten up in your seat, intrigued to hear more. Seeing firsthand the way the townspeople and dragons together has already shown you how special and different E’l Alora is compared to many other places you have been to. But to hear about how directly connected they truly are as they share the same land to live in is quite an intriguing fact for you to learn.

“Most of the people who live in this town are miners and artisans, but there are also knights and fighters—” He stops and looks over his shoulder as a small dragon floats by. You can see through the window the people who stop on the street to wave. At first glance, you think for a moment that they are waving at the midnight-coloured dragon who seems to be making a show as it circles back and makes another pass, until you see a shadow riding on its back, just as Lord Merryl gently adds, “—and riders.”

You take a double look at the dragon as it shoots back up, flying higher up the mountain, carrying the rider—wearing all black from head to toe—along with it. “You—ride those dragons?” you ask with a soft gasp, which has the Lord chuckling softly.

“Only the chosen ones do,” he says with a grin. “Every mortal living in this town, men and women, train their whole lives to ride and fight alongside the dragons to protect this land. When they officially come of age, those who are trained will be tested, and those who pass the test will be bonded with the dragon so they can become the dragons’ riders.”

“Tested? By whom?”

Lord Merryl’s eyes crease a little on each corner when he smiles. “The dragons themselves, of course. They choose their riders.”

“H-how? How do the dragons choose their partners?”

“The Dragon King and his court rule the land to this day, and they set up the rules which made bonding between a human and dragon possible to happen. The Dragon King rules from his home castle. Together with his court, he leads the ceremony where a rider is chosen by inviting the chosen ones to the King’s castle,” he explains with a slight nod towards the castle above.

Tilting your head, you try to picture a whole court testing out the chosen townspeople to find the right person to ride a certain dragon. Throwing a quick glance at the dark castle above, you are beginning to understand why the dragons seem to consider the property as their home.

“When a dragon requires a rider, whether it is because the dragon itself has come to age or if their previous rider has passed their time—be it from old age or if they have passed on—the King’s court will summon a few selected candidates for a new rider and have them tested, both physically and mentally, in front of the court and the dragon that is to become their partner.”

Leaning back, you can feel your jaw setting into a hard line, something that you have to do to keep your mouth from gaping in awe. “Sounds like a rigorous process. And you said that the riders have many years of training?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Lord Merryl nods again. “You are correct. Becoming a rider of the dragons is an important task for us. It gives us a purpose in life and a privilege to care for our land.”

You cannot help but smile, because it does sound like a privilege to bond with these Ancient beings. To be trusted enough to work alongside them.

“And what happens when one isn’t chosen? Or does that not happen, since you said everyone had to be prepared for it?”

“The rest of us run the town,” he says, nodding out the window where you can see the people lounging around the small patch of garden at the center of the town square. You only notice now upon closer observation that each person wears proper attire showing their roles in this town—shopkeepers, waitresses, and a few people who look like physicians and scholars.

“Sometimes, we even get work in the castle to serve the Dragon King as he is very, very old,” he says with his grin deepening when he takes in your reaction, “or they can serve the Ancient Gods and the Moon as the priests and priestesses, even though not many of us pray at the temples nowadays.”

“What about you? Are you also a rider?”

“I used to,” he answers with a gentle voice. The pride you see in his eyes seems genuine. Only this time, there is a hint of longing in them. A reminiscence of the past that he misses the most. “I was for a long time, and then I retired once I was too old to be up there in the sky, and Alastair, my dragon, chose my oldest son to replace me.”

Unable to hide your astonishment, you let your smile grow as you picture him up there, flying with his dragon. “Does that happen a lot—to have someone who is your kin to replace your position?”

“Only with the ones who are deeply bonded with their riders, and I’ve become bonded with Alastair after riding with him for a long time. I was only eighteen when I was chosen, so it felt like I grew into adulthood with him by my side.” He briefly looks out the window with a faraway look in his eyes, as if he is looking into the past that has been engraved in his memory.

“But it didn’t mean that my son had it easy,” he continues with a chuckle. “He still had to go through the same tests to earn Alastair’s trust. Alastair is quite an old dragon himself. Winning his trust was a hard feat and my son had to prove his worth in front of the court until Alastair was pleased enough to bond with him.”

Just then, two dragons glide across the ravine. One has scales in the shade of purplish-black and the other dark tan. The latter looks slightly smaller than the other. Neither has a rider on them, yet the bigger one has something similar to a horse saddle attached on its back, almost blending into their scales.

Another question sparks through your mind as your curiosity grows. “But where do you ride these dragons to?”

“The knights will journey with the dragons to patrol around the mountains, keeping this place and its castle safe from harm. Some will go flying across the nearby lands that are still under E’l Alora’s territory in search of resources, while others fly with them down there,” Lord Merryl replies, tilting his head towards the ravine.

Your brows immediately rise. “What—down into the ravine?”

Lord Merryl seems to enjoy seeing your expression when you are left in shock and he chuckles deeply. “Inside that dark ravine are mines—lots of them. Most of the ones who are chosen to ride the dragons are miners, while some others become knights who serve to protect our land and its people,” he explains.

”The dragons who work alongside the miners will fly us down there and lend us their powers to open up the mines, dig through the rough terrains, fly our workers into the deep to gain the resources found deep within the mountains, and then bring our quarries back to the surface.”

While your mouth drops open, he continues, “These mines were discovered many centuries ago by our ancestors—mages and elves who built their homes here in the mountains. The same ancestors who first built a deep connection with the dragons. They taught us how to maintain the mines without ruining the mountains and communicate with the dragons so we can nurture this land and the mountains together for both our gains.”

“Mines?” You try to picture it in your mind, an elaborate mining system hidden in the depth of the chasm. Something which your book has failed to mention. “And what do you gain from these mines?

Lord Merryl leans forward onto the table just then, waving out the window as an open carriage passes by down the street. Its driver, sitting on the front bunk with his hands on the horse’s rein waves back. His gloves are tainted in black—a similar shade to the pile of minerals filling the back of the carriage to the brim.

“Minerals, like iron ores and other metals that are then made into weapons and armours. Stones to build our homes and the streets we have here in town. And various kinds of gemstones.” He settles back in his seat, his gaze falling onto the ruby amulet hanging from your neck. “Just like the one you are wearing now.”

Startled, your hand comes up to your necklace. The ruby amulet hasn’t been giving you any obvious reaction since you got into town, yet it seems to shimmer under the soft lights illuminating the tavern.

“These mines are the reason why this town exists. It shapes the lives of the people here. Those not chosen as riders will also work to develop the quarries we gain from the mines and make a business out of selling the raw materials and the goods that come out of them. We have blacksmiths working on the iron and metals, builders processing the stones, and artisans working on the gemstones. We often trade goods with other cities, so that might be where you had gotten your stone from.”

Your mind travels back to Aeris, remembering how you have found different kinds of goods which were made of materials that you have never seen before. Weapons and armouries made of irons that are unbreakable and highly resistant to flame and magic attacks. Leather goods which appeared almost as if they were made of materials similar to the skin of the flying dragons. Amulets made with gemstones and metals that the shopkeepers claimed to have been ‘acquired from esteemed sources’ which would be able to be imbued with any kind of magic and spells.

Running the tips of your fingers across your necklace, your mind travels back to the shopkeeper of l'Équinoxe, reminding you of what she said to you about the necklace.

“Seems like your necklace was crafted many years ago, and the ruby is a specific kind of gemstone that is rarely found nowadays in modern cities like ours.”

Clearing your throat, you cannot help but ask, “How old do these dragons get, if I may ask?”

“They live a very long age. The Dragon King has lived almost as old as the Ancient beings you read in your books. Alastair was born around the same time my great-great-grandfather came to this world,” he fondly speaks about his former partner. “There are older dragons that are still around, and young ones—as young as my youngest. More dragons are still being born in the present day, even though they are born a few years or decades in between.”

It would have been hard to imagine if you hadn’t seen them with your own eyes—the different sizes that the dragons appear in seem to determine their ages, which are also so clearly discernible from the lines and ridges of the skin and the sizes of their horns.

“That’s truly remarkable.”

Your gaze meets with one of the locals who is walking past by the window looking in. Wearing a thin, dark-coloured chest armour marks him as one of the knights that Lord Merryl had mentioned. He greets you with a short nod which you return with a smile.

“You said that you haven’t gotten a lot of visitors lately. Don’t travellers often come by here?” you ask Lord Merryl, even if deep down, you can already guess what his answer would be.

It would have been hard for a place like E’l Alora to be kept secret, forgotten, except for the stories and myths that have been written in the books. Not when they are still producing matters and goods that are spread within this realm. “What happens when you need to trade your goods? Your products? How do you provide for the people?”

Lord Merryl grows silent, but it appears that your question had amused him dearly, judging from the glint you see in your eyes. “I’ve had a feeling that you aren’t just any regular traveller,” he surmises with a smile. “You seem to know more about what it takes to manage your people.”

This is quite unexpected. It’s not often that you are made to feel like you are being stripped down, of being forced to reveal the truth behind your disguise as an anonymous traveller. The only times you ever felt this way were during those moments you came face to face with Yoongi, when he seemed to be able to look through your facade. For him to look deep enough that you felt seen.

“Sometimes one can learn so much through the experiences and the people they encounter in their journey,” you find yourself answering.

Which isn’t a complete lie. Throughout the weeks you spent exploring new places through the portals, you have learned much more than what you are taught under your tutors’ guidance.

“That is the reason why I travel to different places in the first place,” you continue to admit, both to yourself and your kind host, “You can say that I’ve been going to places in search of knowledge. Anything that I can bring home and make use to guide me through life.”

“Speaking like a true intellectual.” Lord Merryl lets out a deep chuckle. “You have earned my most respect, young, mysterious scholar.”

Having no idea what to say to that, you simply laugh it off.

“It has been long since outsiders come to visit us. For leisure, that is,” Lord Merryl continues after a beat of silence passes. “A long, long time ago, this used to be a prosperous land. E’l Alora was highly regarded not only as the dragons’ lair, but a small kingdom ruled by the Dragon King, notorious for his powers, magic, and old wisdom left behind by the Ancient beings who created the realm. His knowledge, together with the treasures hidden in the mountains, were all parts of the legacy left behind by our ancestors.”

“What happened?”

Lord Merryl lets out a sigh. “Have you learned about the war?”

Your back stiffens as your mind works hard to file through everything you have learned so far.

It wouldn’t be wrong for you to assume that he is talking about a war happening in this fairy-tale realm, a topic that you are still learning from your tutors. But for some reason, those lessons aren’t the ones running through your thoughts right now. What comes to mind instead is the only story of the war that you spent your entire teenage years learning back at the Citadel.

The history behind the rise of Nythelean Empire.

You recall the story which spoke of how your father survived the fall of his previous empire, how he managed to move his family, his army, and his people to safety. How he found shelter beyond the Elcester Forest—which you have learned to be one of the few hidden passageways connecting both realms—and under the protection of Mount Orrum, to later use the rough terrain of the mountains to defeat his enemies.

A narrow victory which left a deep wound in your father’s soul as it came with a price—losing his home and the one person he loved the most.

You are beginning to suspect that the old war may have something to do with this magical place, knowing what you know now, that Stargrave is still a part of Nythelean’s territory. There are still so many things that you have yet to learn, so many to unravel if you truly want to know more about your true home and your legacy, but so little time has been given for you to catch up with what you have missed.

“Not much of what was left from the old times, I’m afraid,” you admit while wondering inwardly, especially nothing about the wars happening in this realm. “Nothing more than what I’ve read in the books, which I’m sure has been made distorted enough through the years that followed.”

A nod. He doesn’t question you further before finally sharing his story. A small part of history still unbeknownst to you.

“It was many decades ago when the war erupted in this part of the realm, affecting only the sacred lands and kingdoms that worshipped the moon and its magic. The war was known to be the Great Siege, when a small kingdom suddenly grew strong enough to rise into an empire, and challenged other—older—empires to kneel before them. They came to siege many sacred lands, places built by the Ancient beings that we all know to be our ancestors, to take and conquer as much land as they could.”

Lord Merryl’s eyes are filled with grief and sorrow that you feel guilty for making him talk about the past. But at the same time, you want to take this chance to learn more about this place. And perhaps, you can learn more about the history that you have never studied before.

“Must I assume the war reached this land also?”

Lord Merryl nods. “Indeed,” he says. “At first, we had no reason to join the war, as we never had any direct connection or alliance with other kingdoms, until they came pushing at our borders, demanding us to submit to their king.” He grits his jaw tightly with anger as he speaks of their old enemy, and you can feel the pure rage coming out of him.

“The Dragon King refused to stand down, and neither did the people living here, so we defended our land the best we could. Many dragons had fallen during that war, so did the humans who fought alongside the dragons to protect this land.”

Just then, his expression seems to shift. The deep, sorrowful grief is still there, but there is a hint of pride and longing in his eyes as he talks about those moments during the war. You had seen this same look before, when your father talked about your mother and the old days he spent together with you and your mother when life was peaceful and free.

“We fought our best, and while we didn’t come out as victors, once the war ceased, any direct connection we had with the outer world was severed at the hands of the Dragon King and his court,” Lord Merryl continues, “it was his way of protecting his homeland, what was left of his kingdom, and the dragons and the people surviving the war.”

As you continue to listen, something about what he just said tickles your brain, making you wonder what it is about his story which puts you in such unease. Something about it felt quite familiar, yet you cannot seem to put your finger to remember how.

“Ever since then, E’l Alora became nothing more but a myth. The dragons who fought the war and the surviving ones you see now are known as mythical beasts that only exist in your history books and old scriptures, believed to have been extinct after the war.”

Just like how it was portrayed in the book, you bitterly wonder, as your fingers curl around the hardcover of the book that you have on your lap, while Lord Merryl’s eyes glimmer in anguish. “When in reality, they still exist, surviving, protecting their home and their people, keeping themselves in this dark, secluded place for as long as they need to be.”

His voice then shifts into a more hopeful tone as he carries on. “We do whatever we can to survive through the shift of time, just as you expected we would, for us to sustain our way of living,” Lord Merryl says with a teasing tone, drawing a smile to your face. “Our farms aren’t as vast or as prosperous as others, but we make what we do with the limited resources that are hidden beyond these mountains.”

As Lord Merryl nods towards the rocky mountains across the ravine, you finally understand what he meant earlier when he spoke about the dragons and their riders going around the land beyond the mountains. You picture them exploring beyond those rocky peaks to a land of green that is hidden from view, filled with crops and other sustenance for the townspeople of E’l Alora.

“We also have our local merchants who would travel in and out of the territory through a hidden route that only the townspeople know about as they make trades of our products with goods from other places beyond the borders. Most of our remaining neighbours and alliances are loyal when it comes to keeping us hidden, making sure our trade wouldn’t risk our secret from spreading out. That is how we are surviving today.”

With another nod, he points at the crest that you kept on looking at earlier. The insignia left behind by The Brotherhood of Jorn. “The only outsiders that we have ever welcomed so far are the mercenaries. We have some of our former knights and dragon-riders-to-be who decided to join the mercenary army to travel to different places while helping us to keep up with what has been going on in the realm. They also act as the middlemen between us and the outer world, allowing us to keep our home hidden from any sort of threat from outside our borders.”

Looking at the crest, you are beginning to see them in a new light. The stories and rumours that you have once heard from your father’s men continue to echo through your head whenever you look at them. But now, it feels like you are looking at a different side of the mercenary group which many others may not have been able to see.

“Aside from these trusted people, the townspeople aren’t exactly easy to trust strangers. Even those who knew anything about this place and dared enough to travel this far wouldn’t be so bold to enter a territory filled with cautious townspeople, much less living dragons.”

“I—but I didn’t see all of that when I first got here,” you admit to him as you recall the way they had all treated you when you first entered the town. “The townspeople I’ve come across with have been quite friendly. Even though I did catch some who seemed wary of my presence and kept their distance, there weren’t so many that would have made me feel unsafe or uncomfortable.”

Chuckling softly, the man nods his head. “That’s just how our people are, perhaps. Most of us still retain the same hospitality we had in the past, or perhaps the long period of time we spent living in solitude has made us long to have a connection to the outer world which we’ve lost.”

In a way, you can see it. Your own experience of living in constant hiding, years spent in a life similar to being hidden in a shroud, has made you long for something similar. Had that been the reason why you felt so connected with Yoongi since the first time you met him? Because you were so lonely that his presence instantly filled the void that you harboured inside?

“But most of us are adequate judges of characters. So do the dragons, in fact. If anyone sensed that you came bringing danger with you, then you wouldn’t have been welcomed with such hospitality.” A pause, and his gaze suddenly drifts down, stopping at your necklace. “Your necklace may have also turned to your favour in finding your way to our homeland. Just as I mentioned, the gemstone looks like one acquired from our mines. For us, it would be easy to recognise something that was obtained from our land.”

On instinct, your hand moves to grab onto your amulet. Its glow reflecting on Lord Merryl’s face, which seems to be the reason why his attention keeps being drawn to it. “You think that the necklace guided me here?”

He slowly nods. “I’d like to believe that there may be forces leading you to find a way to this place. For what reason, that is yet to be determined,” he says with a gentle smile, while your mind wanders back to how you found the magic door the first time.

Looking back to it now, you realise that there is no such thing as a coincidence that the door revealed its true form when you passed by the hall earlier. You wonder what kind of force played a hand in you finding this place, to be following the trail that leads you to where your magic necklace seems to have come from.

The same way you did when you found your way to Aeris.

Lord Merryl’s gaze lingers on your necklace while you are in deep thought. His voice draws you back to him when he muses, “That necklace—must have been something special for you.”

Twisting the ruby amulet between your fingers, a tiny wave of grief washes over you. “It’s—it was handed down to me by my mother.” The only thing of hers that you get to keep, you realise as sadness fills the cavity in your chest. “I was made to promise to keep it in my person every time I am to leave home. It was said that the necklace is meant to protect me.”

Looking up, you are surprised to see a slight change happening in Lord Merryl’s gaze. There is something there for a moment. A look which reminds you of the way Lord Gordan looked the last time you talked to him about your mother—recognition, longing, mixed with a hint of sorrow.

“Perhaps protection isn’t the only thing that has been ingrained in your necklace,” he says, just as that ineffable look in his eyes fades before you get to find the meaning behind it. “Some amulets can serve as a guide, showing you which directions to take and helping you to find what it is that you are searching for in need be.”

“That is possible,” you whisper. “That’s right. In this realm, anything is possible.”

Even the impossible, you wonder, as you marvel at how peculiar your life has been ever since you crossed the realm.

Silence falls between you for a brief moment, until a movement catches your attention and your eyes drift towards the open window again. Just as the old, largest dragon that had guided you here earlier suddenly appears, gliding gracefully across the chasm at a slow, leisurely pace.

From this close distance, you get to see the details of its midnight-black scale and the row of pointed horns framing its head, going back to its spine and then disappearing across its long swishing tail. Its crimson eyes are widely opened, almost as if it has sensed your presence and is now trying to find you among the mortals living in this town.

But when the dragon circles back and slows down almost to a halt right in front of the tavern, its gaze flickering to where Lord Merryl is sitting, your lips tip up to a smile.

“Alastair?”

Lord Merryl chuckles softly as he nods, greeting the giant dragon who responds to his former rider with a deep, long trill before he then takes flight. The flap of his wings sends a wave of thick dust across the town square and onto the tavern’s walls, drawing a series of laughter from the people who are lounging outside.

“He got curious and came by to say hello,” Lord Merryl says with a deep chuckle while sounding like he is talking about an old friend that he dearly respects and cares for the most. His smile widens when you softly laugh along with him. It makes you feel giddy on the inside, completely amused that the mighty dragon has chosen to acknowledge your presence in his home.

Last night, your dream brought you to a different place.

Instead of finding yourself standing on the top of a cliff, looking down at a thriving land of greens with crystal-like rivers and posh structures in white, you saw yourself walking up a hill covered with a widespread of green grass.

Perched gracefully atop the verdant hill is a temple that appeared almost twice as high as the local churches you had often seen in the capital city of Smotia. With structures built from bone-coloured stones, the temple appeared like a sculpture of light under the cerulean sky.

In your dream, you were as barefoot as always as you walked the winding path leading towards the entrance of the temple. Flanked by whispering trees and blooming wildflowers, their vibrant hues appeared as muted as the sunlight warming your skin.

Approaching the temple, you were greeted by the grand staircase covered in the same bone-coloured stones which formed the temple’s structure. Each step of stairs felt both cold and smooth under your feet as you slowly made your way up. As you came to the entrance foyer, you were welcomed by majestic columns of white lining up the halls, rising to support the roof that seemed to touch the heavens. The massive entrance door stood at the center of a stone wall adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes from myth and legends—most of them you have seen depicted in your history books.

Upon entering through the threshold, you were greeted by the cool, tranquil interior and a faint scent of waning incense. The temple was empty, aside from the flickering candlelights that aligned the low dais built on each side of the walls within the grand hall.

It felt like you were drawn by an unseen force as you walked toward the center of the hall, stopping where lights filtered through from above. Looking up, you caught the sight of the dome ceiling above, made up of a thick glass that looked more like clear crystal, it allowed some sunlight to penetrate into the grand hall.

At the heart of the temple stood a grand altar draped in a layer of golden silk and adorned with garlands of fresh flowers. A marble statue of an Ancient stood at the center, surrounded by unlit candles, golden bowls filled with red wine, and golden plates filled with offerings of fruit, bread, and fragrant oils that were laid at its feet.

The walls at the far back of the hall were just as pale as the rest, yet the entire surface was covered in tapestries. Banners made of silk in pale ivory colours, each one with the symbol of the moon painted in gold in the center, insinuating that this place was where worshippers come to pray to the moon.

You tried to take another step forward, wishing to have a good look at the Ancient standing at the altar—a tall figure with long silky hair wearing the attire of a hunter, with swords attached onto either side of its hips and a set of bow and arrows hanging on its back—when a strong breeze came rushing in. It came so suddenly that you were forced to close your eyes, shutting you off from this peculiar place until the breeze faded.

Barely a minute passed as you kept your eyes closed, yet you could feel it when the world you saw slowly began to shift.

The temperature rapidly dipped. The cold breeze carried with it the same menacing scent of decay which always followed you each time these dreams ended, causing your blood to run winter-cold which had you refraining from opening your eyes.

But you rarely ever had any control of yourself—of anything at all—while you were in a dream. There was nothing stopping you from opening your eyes, to witness what had unfolded in the mere seconds that passed.

Everything that you saw previously—all the vibrant colours, the elegance that was part of this temple, and the alluring beauty which captivated you—had withered. The temple was no longer whole.

The stone pillars were now damaged and fractured in places. So did the artistic stone walls which were now filled with splinters and covered in soot. Parts of the roof were now gone, with the crystal dome partly shattered, leaving not much barrier between you and the dull-grey sky above.

The floor that had been clear and bright-coloured was now covered with dirt and dried blood, with a thin layer of fog crawling around your feet. The grandeur you saw at the altar had wilted to ruins—the flowers had dried out, the draperies and banners were charred and singed, candles were fully burned and melted, and the offerings all scattered and spilled on the floor, the bowls and plates all toppled and broken in pieces around the broken statue. The striking figure of the Ancient depicted by the statue had become shapeless, with its face chipped in multiple places and gaping fractures soiling its upper body to leave it almost completely disjointed.

Once again, you were made to witness how quick and easy it was for life to wither and wane, the unseen beauty of this unknown world fading right before your eyes, merely moments before you were pulled away to wake.

Sleep felt like nothing more but broken fragments as exhaustion weighed on you all morning since you woke up.

Not even your busy, daily routine could help get your mind out of your eerie dream when it kept returning to you whenever your mind was idle.

Fragments of last night’s dream kept coming back while Lady Laurel had you reading different passages of the books that were part of her lesson—Ancestors Of Magic, Languages Of The East, Ancients And Emperors—that would have usually piqued your interest.

Not even the etiquette and ballroom dance lessons with Lady Abigail could do much to distract you from the grim visuals of the broken temple. As someone who has known you her whole life, she didn’t miss the lack of focus that you put in her lesson that she finally gave in and sent you back to your bedchamber with her scolding,

“Rest and clear your idle mind before you hurt yourself.”

And when Lord Gordan wasn’t there for your afternoon lesson to help take your mind off of the haunting shadows of your dream, you chose not to remain in your bedchamber as advised by your governess. Instead, you stripped out of your day dress and slipped into a different attire—a pair of dark breeches and boots, with a loose tunic as your top to make it easier to move around—and marched towards the royal courtyard with your shortsword in hand, searching for a way to keep your mind from becoming idle.

Anything to keep your body and mind busy. To get the images out of your head and tire yourself out just enough so you wouldn’t dream again in the night.

Even if it meant challenging a knight or a royal guard in the middle of their sword training to have a spar with.

“You have quite an outstanding form, Your Highness,” Sir Stephan, the tan-skinned royal guard who had volunteered to be your sparring partner exclaims as he watches you return to your position after blocking his strike. “That wasn’t an easy feat to follow.”

“I told you to not underestimate me, knight,” you retort back with a smile, enjoying the adrenaline rushing through your body. It has been a while since you felt so alive, to be able to move this freely and use your entire body to its full potential the way you did when you had to practice your sword fighting with your father and his knights.

Amused, the guard’s lips twist to a smirk. “I must do well to remember not to show you such disrespect,” he says as he swings his sword back into position, showing you that he is serious.

Not that he has been taking things easy from the start.

While your arrival at the south courtyard earlier had sparked confusion and shock from the royal guards, he was the only one who didn’t look at you as if you were completely out of your mind. He was also the first to step up and volunteer when you openly asked to have a sparring session.

“I wouldn’t dare shame the royal knighthood nor Her Highness by not doing this seriously,” was his promise when you told him not to hold back, and it pleases you to see him making good on his words to you. For you to not be treated like you were made out of glass, like how other royal guards have been treating you.

Through your sparring, getting a closer look at your opponent, it didn’t take much to understand why.

At first, you recognised him as one of the royal guards who has specifically been assigned to guard you during your evening routines. With a closer look at his face and the way he swings his broadsword against your shorter one, you finally remember him as one of the guards escorting you the night you departed from the Citadel.

The same guard who slipped away from the line of escorts to fight off the unidentified figures pursuing your carriage into the Elcester Forest that night.

Your fight continues, and as he still keeps the same fortitude as he would had he been sparring against his fellow guards, you return it with all that you have.

His strikes are strong, with each clash and contact making it obvious that your sword is much lighter than the one he uses. But it doesn’t mean that you are going to make it easy for him to bring you down.

The hilt of the shortsword feels good in your hand. There is a welcomed weight in your hold as you swing it against your opponent. A presence that you hadn’t expected to be something that you have been missing the most. When you strike, your eyes are focused and your hand is firm, and you catch him by surprise when you make a quick work on your feet and make a clean swipe against him, coming close to nicking at his sharp chin before he deflects your attack with one quick swing of his sword.

A series of cheers echo from all around you as the guards witness him stumbling back. Only slightly, but enough to show that your attack is enough to rattle him.

You can tell that your sparring has gained some more audience, with the guards putting their training on hold to watch you fight one of their strongest fighters. Their voices are loud across the courtyard as they encourage the fight while taunting their comrade. It should make you feel self-conscious if only you are not too immersed in giving a good fight against the guard.

“Be careful, Stevie. Don’t want to see you lose a chance for promotion if you hurt the Princess,” you hear the captain of the guards speak from the side.

“I have a feeling that I should be the one to worry about getting hurt,” Sir Stephan jokes back to his comrade between each strike of his sword, his voice drowning under the loud clangs of the swords coming upon contact as you keep blocking his attacks.

As he slows down while responding to his comrades’ taunting laughter, you take the chance to make another move. Taking advantage of his lack of focus, you thrust your sword toward him. He blocks you with one swing and you shoot forward, spinning on your heel and swinging your hand back, slamming the hilt of your sword against his stomach. Sir Stephan recoils with a grunt upon impact.

“Oh, Fates,” he curses with a cough. A rough chuckle comes from his lips as he recovers to shout at his friends laughing at him, “Told ya.”

You quickly step away from him while everyone whistles, cheering for your move. “Stay focused, Sir Stephan. Don’t want you to actually get hurt,” you playfully taunt him as you move into position, ready to continue.

Seeing this prompts Stephan to strike first, swinging his broadsword down to your side, which you block using the back of your sword. The sound of the deep grunt escaping his lips draws more taunting from the other guards.

“Already getting tired, Stevie?”

Letting out a heavy laugh, your opponent cleverly responds without missing a beat. “I think the Princess is just a bit too tough for me to handle, that’s what.”

“Good thing you volunteered in our place since if you lose this fight, there’s no way any of us could defeat Her Highness.”

“Maybe we should recommend your early retirement, old man. Her Highness can always take your place.”

“Right on. The Princess isn’t even sweating and yet there you are trembling. Even your form isn’t right.”

Their compliments please you, even if some of it is far from the truth. You can feel sweat coming down between your brows and in between your breasts. Your breath is growing shallow, and if only any of the guards weren’t so preoccupied with keeping a close watch on each strike of sword clashing through the sparring, they would have noticed the way your legs are beginning to quiver as you block another strike from Sir Stephan’s broadsword.

As your exhaustion sinks in, what comes into your nearly idle mind is not a part of the dream that you wished so badly to forget, but the words of a wise man who has followed you home ever since your visit to E’l Alora.

“Before you go, I must be honest and admit something. Lest I regret it in case we never meet again,” was what Lord Merryl said to you last night before you left E’l Alora to return home. The look that he was giving you then stayed in your mind until you came back to the castle. “You remind me of someone.”

“Someone you knew?”

His lips twitched to a soft smile. “Long ago, before the war, before this land became as secluded as the way it is now, we used to have travellers coming through our town, often staying with us for a time to experience life here as our guests. There was one who Alastair and I had the privilege to get acquainted with during that time. A female traveller who claimed to be a scholar and was travelling through sacred lands in search of knowledge about the Ancients, much like you.” Once again, you saw a glimpse of longing in his eyes as he spoke. “She looked quite like you, and I am quite sure she was around your age when she frequently came to visit us.”

Then his longing gaze fell on your necklace for one last time. “And she was wearing a necklace similar to yours.”

Sir Stephan’s sudden strike snaps you back to the present. His move isn’t as fast as his previous offences, but the blow of his sword rattles your entire arm the moment it makes contact with yours. You barely manage to deflect his attack, the clash between swords and the force that he uses pushing you back a step. Yet you are still capable of cutting his blow, even if it comes with a cost.

Your knees buckle as you pull your sword back. Snapping your sword down, you stab its tip onto the ground to keep you from falling on your knees.

“Your Highness, is everything all right?” Sir Stephan calls out gently, sounding concerned. Yet he makes no move to approach you, something which you respect coming from him.

Laughing nervously, you straighten up and shake your head. “Seems like I was right all along. I’m quite out of practice.”

The guard looks relieved to hear this. His lips twist into something which resembles a pride smile. “For the record, you are still much better than some of the guards here,” he compliments you as he slowly lowers his sword. “And in a much better shape as well, seeing that you are still standing on your two feet.”

“I take it as a compliment.” Sheathing your sword, you bow your head slightly towards him. “Thank you for lending me your time. We should do this again next time.”

Lifting his sword and crossing it against his chest, Sir Stephan greets you with a formal bow. “I’ll be ready to spar with you again, Your Highness. If ever you need to.”

You turn to greet the other guards with a slight bow before turning away to leave. Behind you, the captain of the royal guards begins rounding up his men to resume their sword training. The sounds of them shuffling back into their position and the clanging of swords follow your departure.

Except for Sir Stephan.

Even without looking over your shoulder, you can feel the heat of his gaze pressing on your back. It shouldn’t bother you so much to have him watching you go, as he is simply doing his duty as your guard ever since the Citadel. Yet it suddenly feels unsettling how familiar his presence feels for you, even as you put distance between you.

He reminds you of someone. Of a moment in time that is lost in your memory. Yet your mind is too exhausted and you are too weary to figure out how.

You try not to dwell on it as you make your way around the small rising leading to the West Tower. Avoiding the side corridor where the entrance of the tower is located, you choose to walk a bit further towards the door hidden behind the hill.

At this time of the day, this side of the tower is quiet. Only the palace maids use this access door, yet you have learned enough to know that none would be passing here during the time they are finishing most of their late afternoon duties.

Crossing the threshold, you arrive in a small hall connected to the long winding stairwell going up to the upper floors. Amongst them is the corridor leading towards your bedchamber, where you can finally rest—both your mind and body—for the day.

Your mind is once again idle as you begin to ascend the stairs. Idle due to exhaustion, yet still enough to silence all thoughts and wonders.

For a moment, you feel hopeful about dragging yourself towards your bed, even if your legs still tremble while you climb up the stairs. The shortsword feels as if it has gained weight as it keeps bumping against your thigh in your journey back to your quarters.

Yet in that comforting silence, your senses are on high alert. Sharpened enough to feel a peculiar sensation rising within that stairwell.

A feeling that is quite similar to what you have often felt whenever you come across any silver doors hiding your father’s magic portals.

Curious, you begin to proceed cautiously. The logical part of your mind is telling you that it might just be in your head. There is nothing up there other than the long corridors of the west wing of Stargrave, where your bedchamber is placed.

As you continue going up the stairs, there is really no mistaking it—the soft hum of magic reverberating through the air, beckoning you to come close.

With one hand wrapped around the hilt of your sword, and the other reaching up to touch the silver key hanging on your necklace—placed together alongside your ruby amulet to make sure that you would keep it close to you at all times—you continue to proceed.

Right before you reach the floor connecting you to your private quarters, you arrive at a landing.

There, right to your left, appears a small archway that seems to have been built into the wall. Similar to the door which took you to E’l Alora, it appears like nothing more but a wall ornament. It seems impossible for it to serve as a door. Not at this part of the tower, when the small windows placed on either side of it are showing you a massive fall towards the shoreline below.

At the center of the archway, what seems to be a carved wall ornament appears to be a plate made up of old wood. It has silver hinges on one side—the only sign allowing you to identify it as a door—and floral embellishments pressed across the surface. The silver embellishments are marred by patches of reddish-brown rust, hiding the silver shine under the uneven, flaky crust spreading on its surface.

Standing before it, you realise that the humming spell is more muted here compared to the ones you have heard and felt from the other magic doors. Yet the sensation you feel all through your body is just the same.

Your racing heartbeat. The pulse of warmth surging through your skin. Even the way your necklace is vibrating against your skin feels just the same.

Cautiously, you slip the key off of your necklace. With a deep breath, and your curiosity rising, you silently pray that the door truly opens to another magic portal instead of sending you plunging into the rough sea below.

The key fits perfectly in the keyhole and it opens with one click, immediately opening as if there is an unseen force helping you to reveal what is hidden beneath. The ripple of magic which appear in the form of a blue mirror manifests right before your eyes, opening the way for your next adventure.

“I suppose there is no rest for today”—you sigh—“yet. Here we go.”

The flow of magic engulfs you as you take a step into the portal. It clings onto your body like a cold glove, causing tingles on your skin while your heart palpitates as your own mana reacts to it. This time, the humming spell sounds more like chants of prayers. Still spoken in a language that you are unable to comprehend.

Your journey across lasts only for a blink of an eye before the heels of your boots land on solid ground. A cold breeze washes over you, filled with the scents of moss and petrichor. Not in the kind which you would often find in the countryside, but more at places that are mostly deserted—like castle ruins or abandoned churches, perhaps unexplored caves in the wild.

Releasing a deep exhale of breath, you open your eyes, only to have the rest of it getting knocked right out of your chest. As if reality comes crashing on you with a hard punch as you realise where you are.

You have emerged right in the heart of an old temple.

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writingrock · 3 months ago

Text

the tale of two lovers [9]

pairing: barbarian! katsuki bakugou x reader (female) summary: a bard approaches a lone barbarian in search for a story to tell. Who could have known that the barbarian end up being such a romantic tale.

notes: fantasy au, fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn, bakusquad, barbarian bakugou

word count: 8.5k

part list

part one: chapter list

a/n: this chapter was definitely on time... don't even..

The first thing you did upon waking wasn’t meditating but checking your map and compass, ensuring the route you’d scouted the night before was still clear in your mind. You couldn’t bear to mess up at this stage of the journey. There were no room for mistakes. You were all too close to the heart of the forest to fumble now. Just the thought of what lay ahead shook off the last remnants of sleep as you traced the lines of your map, reviewing each turn and landmark until you felt confident with your memory. Only once you felt certain did you allow yourself a moment of morning meditation. Not that you had long to. One by one, the others slowly woke up, stretching and yawning as they emerged from their bedrolls, the early morning light filtering softly through the trees.

The group shuffled around the embers of the campfire, sorting up the first meal of the day. Breakfast was simple— rations from the previous day, paired with leftovers from last night. To your surprise, there was little chatter this morning. No one sharing odd dreams or complaining about someone’s snoring. Instead, everyone finished up and moved quietly through the familiar routine of packing up. Mina and Denki moved groggily through their tasks, sharing sleepy smiles as they gathered their belongings. Sero meticulously checked the area, ensuring nothing was left behind. Kirishima was already rolling up his bedroll, efficiently finishing the job. Bakugou was already waiting with his arms crossed over his chest, glancing at the group with a lick of impatience in his eyes.

“Everyone ready?” you asked, scanning the camp alongside Sero to ensure nothing had been left behind. Though subtle, a quiet sense of anticipation seemed to ripple through the group, sharpening everyone’s focus.

It took a moment for anyone to respond, as each person made a final check of their gear and belongings. Finally, Kirishima broke the silence, springing up with his usual enthusiasm.

“Ready!” he announced, his voice brimming with energy. The others nodded in agreement, echoing his sentiment with determined expressions. But beneath their steady resolve and excitement, there was a hint of anxiety. A trace of worry from awareness of what lay ahead, of the unknown at the heart of the forest.

With everything packed, you led the way, navigating by the route you’d planned. Today, the air felt different, tinged with a subtle magic that pulsed beneath the surface, guiding you toward your destination.The path wound through the woods, the undergrowth thick but manageable. As you pressed on, the landscape began to shift. The tree trunks were twisted and ancient, draped in glowing moss that shimmered in the sunlight. The air cooled, carrying the scent of fresh water and wildflowers, each breath filling you with a sense of purpose. Hours passed in focused silence as the group forged ahead. By midday, the forest thinned, and you stepped into a vast clearing that took your breath away.

The clearing was a perfect circle, surrounded by towering trees that seemed to stand guard. The grass was lush and vibrant, soft beneath your feet like a natural carpet. Scattered across the clearing were countless unopened buds, their petals tightly furled, as if waiting for the perfect moment to bloom. At the centre lay a large pond, its surface still as glass, reflecting the sky above. Around it, clusters of night flower buds, their closed blooms hinting at the luminescent display you had seen before.

“This is it,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath as you took in the serene beauty of the heart of Niniel’s Veil. The air was dense with magical energy, making every breath feel as if you’ve inhaled fumes of pixie dust. The group stepped forward with their mouths agape in wonder and disbelief. It was as if the forest had finally opened up. And now you were standing at its heart.

Kirishima let out a low whistle, his eyes wide as he took in the sight. “Woah… this place is incredible,” he said, admiring the panoramic scene before him.

Denki stood in rare, quiet admiration. His usual carefree spirit was replaced by genuine awe. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he murmured, almost as if speaking too loudly would break the magical atmosphere.

Mina’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she spun slowly, taking in every detail of the clearing. “It’s like something out of a dream,” she said, her voice filled with childlike wonder. The flowers, still tightly furled, seemed to whisper of untold secrets, their vibrant colours muted in the dappled light.

Sero smiled softly, his gaze fixed on the large pond at the clearing’s centre. Its surface was perfectly still, reflecting the sky above like a mirror. “So this is the heart of the Veil,” he whispered to himself.

Bakugou stood a little apart from the rest, his silence not out of indifference but out of something deeper. As expected, Bakugou’s eyes have begun to sweep over the clearing, taking in every bit of detail. You could almost see the gears turning in his mind, already planning the next steps.

But the flowers, rows upon rows of unopened night blooms, created a natural barrier, making it clear that this was not a place to tread lightly. Their petals were still tightly closed, as if waiting for nightfall to reveal their true nature. You knew better than to disturb them, sensing that the heart of Niniel’s Veil was as delicate as it was powerful.

“We can’t set up camp here,” you said, your voice breaking the quiet spell. “These flowers… We should respect their space.”

You led the group a little farther from the clearing, finding a suitable spot where the ground was soft and the view of the pond remained unobstructed. “We’ll set up camp nearby,” you decided, dropping your pack onto the grass. “We need to be ready for whatever comes next.”

Without hesitation, everyone moved into familiar action, setting up tents and organising supplies with efficiency. It was calm among the group, but underneath there was an electric hum of anticipation thrummed through the gaps.

Kirishima, who had been unrolling his bedroll, glanced up with a grin. “We made it,” he said, feeling rather relieved that they’ve made it this far. He was simply glad to finally be here to wrap up the final ends of the journey. “Now we just have to figure out what’s next.”

Denki, helping Mina build a fire, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but whatever it is, we surely got it.” Denki sounded determined, also lightened up with relief that they’re a step closer to the end of this journey. “Seriously though, look at this place— it’s like we stepped into another world.” Mina gushed as she arranged the firewood, sparing a glance over to the clearing.

A low and firm voice grumbled from the trees. “Don’t get too comfortable. The Veil’s not done with us yet. This place… it’s hiding something. We just have to find it.” Bakugou trudged into the conversation with more firewood.

You looked around, feeling the weight of his words. The heart of Niniel’s Veil was a place of mystery, where beauty and danger intertwined, and the sense that you were standing on the edge of something great filled the air. Whatever came next, you knew it would be unlike anything you had faced before. You could feel the Veil watching, waiting, and you were ready to meet whatever challenge it had in store. This place, with its untouched beauty and strange allure, was just the beginning. The pond, surrounded by those enigmatic night flowers, held the mystery of the artefact waiting to be solved.

As the group settled into the camp, Sero rummaged through his pack with a mischievous grin. “Hey, I’ve got something to kill some time,” he announced, pulling out a worn deck of cards. The edges were frayed, and the faces were slightly faded, but they were a treasured item that had seen many nights of banter and laughter on the road.

Mina’s eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, yes! A card game is exactly what we need right now. What are we playing?”

Kirishima leaned over, curious. “I’m down for anything that doesn’t involve moving. All that trekking took a lot out of me.”

Denki glanced up from arranging the last of the supplies, a grin spreading across his face. “Deal me in. I could use a distraction.”

Sero shuffled the cards with a flourish, clearly proud of his impromptu idea. “Alright, how about we play ‘Dragon’s Bluff’? It’s simple: whoever has the best hand wins, but you’ve got to be a good liar to get away with it.”

Bakugou, who had been stoking the fire with a stick, gave them a questioning look. “Seriously? Sounds like a waste of time.”

You shrugged, already taking a seat around the makeshift table they’d created with a few flat rocks and logs. “Come on, Bakugou. It’s all in good fun. Besides, it’s been a long time since we’ve done something that doesn’t involve fighting for our lives.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes but eventually tossed the stick aside and joined the circle, reluctant to join in. “Fine. But don’t whine when I take all your rations as bets.”

The cards were dealt, and the game quickly turned into a lively affair. Mina tried her best to bluff her way through each round, throwing exaggerated expressions and wild gestures that had everyone laughing. Her exaggeration worsened especially when her hand was terrible. In contrast, Sero kept his cards close, playing strategically and throwing in just enough banter to keep everyone guessing.

Kirishima, honest to a fault, struggled to keep a straight face. Often bursting into laughter every time he tried to bluff, which often gave away his hand. “I’m terrible at this!” he admitted, cheeks flushed from laughing so much. “I swear I’m not lying, but you guys never believe me!”

You found yourself enjoying the game more than you expected, the chipper atmosphere a welcome change from the usual tension. Denki, meanwhile, was in his element, throwing wild accusations and daring bluffs, his animated storytelling a perfect distraction that often led to him winning rounds he had no business winning.

And then there was Bakugou, who played with a focused intensity that turned every move into a psychological game. His expression was impossible to read as he watched everyone’s tells with a predatory patience. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, it was with a smug confidence that had the others on edge. “Nice try,” he’d say, exposing a perfect hand after baiting his opponents into risky moves.

By the time the game had been going for a while, the circle around the makeshift table was filled with laughter, playful insults, and groans of defeat. Mina leaned back with a dramatic sigh, her latest bluff having just been called out by Sero. “You guys are ruthless. I swear I had that one!”

Kirishima shook his head, grinning as he tossed his cards onto the pile. “We should have known Sero had something up his sleeve when he suggested this.”

Sero only shrugged, shuffling the deck once more. “Hey, I just thought we could all use some fun. And besides, it’s not about winning or losing. It’s about the thrill, right?”

Bakugou smirked, gathering up his small pile of winnings— mostly rations and the occasional favour. “Speak for yourself. I’m winning.”

As the game continued, the sky above slowly darkened, stars beginning to twinkle faintly through the gaps in the tree canopy. The group’s laughter echoed softly in the clearing, mingling with the sounds of the forest. As the day faded into night, the sky deepened into a velvet blue. A strange and enchanting transformation began to unfold. From the darkness of the forest floor, delicate buds began to stir. One by one, luminescent night flowers emerged, their petals unfurling in a breathtaking display of ethereal beauty. They glowed with a soft, silvery light, casting an otherworldly luminescence over the landscape.

The flowers’ petals opened slowly, like the shy unveiling of a secret, revealing their inner glow to the world. Their light danced across the field, creating a mesmerising tapestry of shimmering colours that swayed gently in the breeze. In the centre of the nearby pond, a larger night flower began to rise. Its bloom was immense, its petals spreading wide like the canopy of a great tree, casting an even brighter glow that illuminated the entire area with a gentle, otherworldly light.

Kirishima’s eyes widened in amazement. “Whoa, look at that! It’s huge!”

Denki whistled softly, his usual energy replaced with awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like something out of a dream.”

Mina, her gaze fixed on the grand flower, added, “It’s beautiful. Almost surreal.”

Sero nodded, his eyes twinkling with the reflection of the luminescent scene before him. “It’s like the forest is putting on a show just for us.”

You took in the scene, a deep sense of nostalgia washing over you. The sight of the night flowers brought back memories of a time long past, when you had witnessed this same magical event with your father. The memory was bittersweet, a reminder of days spent exploring the wonders of nature with someone who was your father and mentor. It was a blissful memory, one you’d treasure for the rest of your days.

Shaking off the melancholy, you turned to the group, trying to keep your tone light yet firm. “Be careful, everyone. These night flowers are not just for show. They produce drowsy pollen. It’s best to cover your mouths with something, or you might find yourself dozing off unexpectedly.”

Kirishima’s eyes widened slightly, staring down at the innocent-looking flowers. “Seriously? Should we do anything else to stay alert?”

You nodded, pulling a scarf from your pack and wrapping it around your face. “Just be cautious. It’s a beautiful sight, but the pollen can be quite potent. Keep your distance if you start feeling drowsy.”

The group nodded in understanding, quickly following your lead. With their faces covered, they ventured towards the pond, their curiosity piqued by the grand night flower. Each step brings them closer to the heart of the forest's enchanting display. As they approached the pond, the grandeur of the enormous night flower dominated their view. Its petals unfurled in a delicate cascade of light, bathing the surroundings in a soft, ethereal glow. You were willing to bet that the artefact lay somewhere within this captivating bloom, but you needed a closer look.

You reached for your scarf, intending to remove it for a clearer view of the massive bloom before you. But as your fingers brushed the fabric, you hesitated, a sharp reminder flashing in your mind of the danger that the flower’s pollen posed. The air was thick with the faint, shimmering dust, barely visible but undoubtedly potent. Exposing yourself fully to it could prove reckless, and you knew better than to take that risk.

Instead, you tightened your grip on the scarf wrapped securely around your mouth and nose, feeling the familiar weave of fabric pressing against your skin. You considered your options carefully, the gears in your mind turning as you stared at the flower, its petals vibrant and impossibly large, each one curling delicately at the edges as though hiding a secret within.

An idea struck, and you extended your arm, calling forth your familiar, Kyrah, a majestic eagle with sharp, piercing eyes and feathers that shimmered in the light. With a flick of your wrist, Kyrah appeared, wings beating powerfully as it hovered beside you, sensing your intent even before you spoke.

“Kyrah,” you commanded, your voice steady as you kept the scarf over your nose and mouth. “Fly over the flower. Show me what’s inside.”

Kyrah’s keen eyes locked onto the target, understanding your request immediately. Kyrah soared upward, wings cutting through the air with silent grace. As the eagle approached the enormous flower, the view shifted, the petals growing larger, each vein and fleck of colour more distinct. You murmured a brief incantation, your words quiet and deliberate as you tapped into the bond between you. The spell took hold, and your vision blurred momentarily as it shifted, merging with Kyrah’s. In an instant, you were no longer seeing through your own eyes but through those of your familiar, the world transformed into crisp, vivid detail. You saw everything through Kyrah’s sight: the shimmering golden pollen dusting the petals, the delicate movements of the flower as if breathing in time with the forest around it.

Kyrah circled above, giving you a clear vantage point. As it hovered over the flower’s centre, you finally glimpsed what lay within: a cluster of glowing orbs, pulsating softly with a light that was almost otherworldly. The orbs were nestled deep among the petals, emitting a faint, rhythmic hum that resonated through the air, almost musical in its tone. They glowed with a faint, bluish light, each one connected by slender tendrils of translucent vines that seemed to pulse in harmony.

You focused, absorbing every detail, your heart racing at the sight. You had never been this close to this flower when you were here with your father. It was clear that it was no ordinary flower— the sheer size of it spoke volumes. Whatever it guarded was alive, charged with a strange, unfamiliar magic that tugged at your senses. You knew immediately that the orbs were an obstacle to whatever mystery the heart of Niniel’s Veil held. But their exact purpose remained elusive, cloaked in layers of enchantment that you could only begin to decipher. Based on the riddle, you could only assume the artefact would lay in there.

Kyrah swooped lower, giving you a closer look, but the pollen grew thicker, swirling like a shimmering mist around the orbs. You watched as tiny sparks of energy danced within the pollen, flickering like fireflies trapped in amber. It was beautiful, mesmerising even, but there was also a danger to it— one wrong move and you could find yourself ensnared by the flower’s strange magic.

“Careful, Kyrah,” you whispered, even though you knew your familiar couldn’t hear you directly. The bond between you was strong enough that Kyrah sensed your caution, pulling back just slightly, maintaining a safe distance while still providing you with a view of the orbs.

With a final sweep, Kyrah flew back toward you, landing gracefully on your outstretched arm. The vision shifted back to your own eyes, leaving you momentarily disoriented but filled with the knowledge of what you had seen. The flower was a guardian of something precious and powerful, and whatever lay within those glowing orbs had to be the artefact Bakugou had been searching for. You lowered your arm, feeling the weight of the discovery settle in.

You took a deep breath, your mind still reeling from what you had seen through Kyrah’s eyes. The glowing orbs nestled within the massive flower were unlike anything you had encountered before. They were humming with an ancient magic that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the forest itself.

The group gathered around, curiosity etched on their faces as they waited for you to speak. Bakugou’s stares never left you, his arms crossed and posture tense, while Mina and Kirishima exchanged worried glances. Denki fidgeted nervously, clearly eager to hear what you had found, and Sero watched you with a cautious, measured calm.

“What’s in there?” Kirishima asked, a touch of concern in his voice. “You looked like you saw something big.”

You nodded, collecting your thoughts before you began. “I did. There’s a cluster of glowing orbs, unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. They’re nestled deep within the petals, and they’re… alive. Pulsating with some kind of magic.”

Mina leaned forward, absorbing your words as she puzzled with the implication of the magical orbs in the flower. What could those orbs do? “Orbs? What do you think they are? Are they dangerous?”

You glanced at her, then back to the rest of the group. “I’m not entirely sure what they are, but they’re not just decoration. There’s an ancient magic to them— one that’s tied to the Veil itself. I think the orbs are protecting whatever lies at the centre of the flower, and we need to be extremely careful. I suspect that the artefact we’re looking for is in there, hidden among those orbs.”

Denki’s brows furrowed as he tried to picture what you were describing. “So, you’re saying those glowy things are like… protective measures or something?”

You nodded, your expression serious. “Exactly. The orbs are like guardians, in a way. I felt it through Kyrah’s eyes. The magic is old, ancient even, and it’s designed to keep intruders out. If we make the wrong move or trigger them, there’s no telling what could happen. They could be traps, alarms, or worse.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed, his mind already racing with possibilities. “So what’s the plan? We just sit here and wait? Or are you saying we go in blind?”

“We can’t go in recklessly,” you cautioned, meeting Bakugou’s intense gaze. “If we disturb those orbs without understanding what they do, we could set off something catastrophic. They’re too sensitive, and this magic… it’s not something we’ve dealt with before. We need to find a way to disable or bypass them, but not until we know exactly what we’re up against.”

Sero rubbed the back of his neck, glancing toward the flower. “So, what’s our next move? Can we get a closer look without setting them off?”

You thought for a moment, weighing your options. “We’ll need to study them from a distance, carefully,” you began. “I can use Kyrah again to scout further, maybe find a pattern or a safe way through. But none of us should touch the flower or the orbs directly until we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

Kirishima nodded, his usually cheerful expression now marked with caution. “Alright, so no poking the magic orbs. Got it. We’ll play this one smart.”

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to share another critical piece of information. “There’s something else you all need to know. The flower is emitting a potent pollen— similar to the night flowers in the clearing, but much stronger. If we get too close without proper protection, it could knock us out cold.”

Mina’s eyes widened with concern. “That bad, huh? How close do you think we can get before it affects us?”

“Not very,” you replied. “Even from a distance, I could feel its pull. It’s subtle, but powerful. The pollen in the night flowers was enough to make us drowsy, but this one… it’s on a whole different level. If we’re not careful, it could overwhelm us before we even get a chance to react.”

Mina stepped back instinctively, her expression shifting as she processed the information. “So it’s like a defence mechanism, right? The flower lulls you in, makes you drop your guard. If you get too close, you’re done for.”

“Exactly,” you confirmed, watching the swirling particles drift lazily in the air. “The pollen is meant to disarm anyone who gets too close. It’s subtle, but it’s powerful. If we breathe too much of it, we’ll be vulnerable, drowsy, and easy prey for whatever else this place has in store.”

Sero frowned, glancing toward the massive flower. “So, not only do we have to worry about those orbs, but we’ve got to deal with sleep-inducing pollen too? Sounds like a real party.”

“It’s going to be difficult,” you said. “We need to be fully aware of the risks. If anyone starts feeling lightheaded or sleepy, we back off immediately. The last thing we need is someone collapsing before we’ve even figured out how to approach this.”

Bakugou scowled, irritation flashing across his face. “This thing’s got traps on traps. Can’t we just blow it out of the way?”

You shook your head quickly, knowing that would only make things worse. “No. We can’t just force our way through. The flower and the orbs are connected. If we try to destroy it, there’s no telling what kind of reaction we’ll trigger. The pollen could spread, or worse, the orbs could activate.”

Denki, trying to keep the mood light, offered a small grin. “This isn’t going to be an easy one, huh?”

You gave a tight smile, appreciating his attempt to ease the tension. “Unfortunately. But we’re not rushing in blind. We’ll take our time, study the situation, and only make a move when we’re confident we can do it safely.”

The group nodded in agreement, the weight of the challenge before you settled in. The combination of the potent pollen and the ancient magic guarding the flower meant that this would be one of the most delicate operations you’d ever attempted. But you knew you could find a way through, especially with your party.

“Let’s stay focused,” your resolute tone rings through the group. “We’ll figure this out, step by step. Kyrah will help us map a safe path, and we’ll keep our distance until we’re sure we can approach without triggering anything— or putting ourselves in danger.”

With that, the plan was set in motion. Caution would be your greatest ally in this final stage of the journey, and as you prepared to send Kyrah out once more, you steeled yourself for the challenge ahead.

Kyrah took to the skies once more, her powerful wings cutting through the air with silent grace as she soared overhead. You focused on your familiar, your vision blurring and shifting until you were seeing through her sharp, keen eyes. The world below came into crystal-clear focus. Every petal, every swirl of pollen, and every faint glow of the orbs within the flower was laid bare before you.

Kyrah circled above the enormous bloom, her movements careful and deliberate, studying every detail of the flower’s structure. The petals were vast and slightly curled, creating layers that shielded the glowing orbs at the centre. The pollen drifted like a fine mist, shimmering faintly in the sunlight, thicker near the heart of the flower where the magic was most concentrated.

As Kyrah hovered, you scanned the area, searching for a path through the dense layers of petals and pollen that wouldn’t trigger the ancient magic protecting the orbs. It was like navigating a living maze— one wrong turn could unleash whatever power the flower was guarding. You watched closely, noting the way the petals shifted ever so slightly, almost as if responding to Kyrah’s presence.

There was a narrow gap between two of the larger petals, a space just wide enough for someone to pass through without touching the orbs directly. It led to a less concentrated pocket of pollen, a rare break in the flower’s defences. You traced the route mentally, marking each twist and turn in your mind, calculating the safest approach.

Kyrah swooped lower, getting a closer look at the pattern of the pollen’s movement. It swirled like a slow, deliberate dance, and you could see faint trails of energy sparking between the orbs, reacting to the shifts in the air. The path was tight and would require precise navigation, but it was there— a possible route to the heart of the flower.

“Good girl,” you whispered, guiding Kyrah back with a thought. She responded instantly, banking gracefully and returning to you. Her presence was a comforting weight as she perched on your shoulder. The vision snapped back to your own eyes, leaving you momentarily disoriented but at the very least, you know where to go now.

Turning to the team, you relayed what you had seen. “There’s a way in,” you said, your voice steady but tightened with caution. “It’s not easy, but there’s a narrow path between the petals that avoids most of the pollen and the orbs. We’ll need to move slowly and carefully, but it’s possible.”

Kirishima listened intently, nodding as he visualised the route in his mind. “Alright, so we just need to stick to that path. No touching anything we don’t need to.”

Mina glanced at the flower, feeling her nerves buzzing under her skin. “And if we mess up? What happens if we trigger one of those orbs?”

You met her gaze, not sugarcoating the danger. “If we trigger them, there’s no telling what could happen. The magic is unpredictable— at best, we get a warning. At worst… it could be lethal. We have to be precise.”

Bakugou crossed his arms, his eyes fixed on the flower. Narrowing at them as if he had a personal grudge against the flower. “We can’t afford any mistakes. You lead the way. We’ll follow your instructions to the letter.”

Sero and Denki exchanged uneasy looks, but they nodded, their trust in you clear. “We’ve got this,” Sero said, his voice calm and reassuring. “Just show us where to go.”

You adjusted your scarf one last time, feeling the weight of the challenge ahead. The danger ahead is unnerving but there is no other way. “We move slowly. Keep covered, and follow the path exactly. No shortcuts, no rushing.”

With a final deep breath, you led the way, Kyrah perched on your shoulder as your guide. The flower loomed ahead, majestic and foreboding, but you moved with confidence, every step measured and deliberate. One by one, your team followed, navigating the twisting path through the petals, every motion precise.

You took the first step toward the massive flower, your heart beating steadily as you approached the narrow gap between the towering petals. The air was cool and tinged with the faint scent of the pollen, a fragrance that was deceptively pleasant but underlined by the subtle, magical potency that hummed in the atmosphere. Kyrah shifted slightly on your shoulder, her presence grounding you as you moved forward, guiding the team into the flower’s enigmatic embrace.

The gap between the petals was barely wide enough to slip through without touching the delicate surfaces. Each petal was a vibrant tapestry of swirling colours— deep purples, luminous blues, and shimmering golds that caught the light and refracted it in an enchanting display. As you slipped into the narrow passage, the walls of the petals seemed to close around you, like the mouth of a living labyrinth, pulsating faintly with the life force of the flower.

You moved slowly, each step deliberate, mindful of the swirling clouds of pollen that drifted lazily around you. The faint luminescence of the particles gave the air an ethereal glow, casting everything in a soft, dreamlike haze. You could feel the magic pressing in, testing your every move, waiting for the slightest mistake to entrap you.

Behind you, Kirishima followed, his large frame moving with surprising delicacy as he kept close, careful not to disturb the petals. His breath was steady, but you could sense his alertness, every muscle poised to react if things went wrong. “This place… it’s like walking through a living painting,” he murmured, voice hushed with a mix of awe and caution.

Mina was next, admiring the flower as she navigated the narrow path, her movements light and nimble. She reached out instinctively to steady herself but pulled back just in time, realising how close she’d come to brushing against a petal. “This is… unreal,” she whispered, barely daring to speak louder than a breath. “It’s like it’s alive.”

Sero and Denki moved carefully, their eyes darting around, taking in the strange beauty while keeping a wary eye on the pollen. Sero’s face was calm, but his brows were furrowed in concentration, every step taken with precision. Denki’s movements were slow as he mirrored your every action.

Bakugou’s expression is locked in a fierce concentration. Scanning every detail for every possible threat. He moved with a predator’s grace, avoiding the pollen with sharp, deliberate motions. “Keep moving,” he said, more a reminder to himself than anyone else. “Eyes on the path.”

The air grew colder as you descended deeper into the flower’s core, the light dimming to a soft, bluish hue that emanated from the glowing orbs nestled at the centre. They pulsed with a quiet rhythm, each beat sending ripples of energy that made the pollen shiver and dance in response. You could feel the magic intensifying, a low hum that resonated in your bones, urging you forward and warning you all at once.

You glanced back, ensuring everyone was still on track. The team’s faces were set with persistence, shadows and light playing across their features as they moved with you. The narrow passage twisted slightly, curving inward as it led you closer to the flower’s heart. The walls tightened, forcing you to duck and weave to avoid brushing against the shimmering petals. It felt like walking through a tunnel made of silk and starlight, fragile and impossibly beautiful.

The path opened slightly as you reached the centre, the glowing orbs now directly in front of you, suspended in a delicate tangle of tendrils that pulsed with the flower’s lifeblood. They were mesmerising, each orb swirling with light and shadow, tiny storms of magic contained within translucent shells. The air around them was thick with power, and you could feel it brushing against your skin, prickling like static electricity.

You raised a hand, signalling the group to stop. Everyone froze, their breaths quiet, eyes locked on the orbs that guarded the artefact within. The atmosphere was charged, and the slightest disturbance could unleash whatever ancient force lay dormant in the flower’s core.

“We’re almost there,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “Stay focused. We can’t make any mistakes.”

One by one, you led them closer, moving along the narrow path that wove between the orbs. Each step felt like navigating the edge of a knife, the tension almost palpable as you manoeuvred through the intricate web of petals and magic. The flower seemed to sense your presence, its petals fluttering faintly as if acknowledging your careful intrusion.

The centre of the flower opened up slightly, revealing a clear view of the artefact—a small, intricately carved steel sphere set within the web of glowing orbs. Its surface was etched with ancient symbols, each line glowing faintly as if whispering secrets from a long-forgotten age. You could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you, the culmination of your journey so close and yet still wrapped in layers of magic and danger. With a deep breath, you steadied yourself, knowing that the next steps would determine the outcome of everything you had fought for.

“Alright,” you said softly, your voice carrying the gravity of the task ahead. “We need to take this slowly. No sudden moves. We retrieve the artefact, and we get out. Together.”

Kirishima nodded, his jaw set with determination as he followed your lead, every muscle taut with focus. Mina crept behind him, her gaze flickering between the glowing orbs and the artefact at the centre. Sero and Denki moved in tandem, their footsteps silent, their breathing shallow as they navigated the delicate path. Bakugou, at the rear, kept his eyes locked on every detail, ready to react at a moment’s notice.

The orbs pulsed softly, casting faint shadows that danced along the petals. As you inched closer, you noticed the orbs were not just suspended—they were subtly tethered to the artefact by thin, almost invisible strands of light. These connections pulsed in sync with the orbs, like a web of veins pumping magical energy directly into the artefact. Whatever magic protected it was still active, alive, and watching.

You paused just a few feet away from the artefact, signalling for the group to halt. “We can’t just take it,” you said, keeping your voice low. “It’s connected to the orbs. If we pull it free, we risk setting off whatever defences are still active.”

Mina’s brow furrowed as she stared at the thin strands of light connecting the orbs to the artefact. “So how do we get it without triggering… whatever this is?”

You considered the question, examining the web of light for any weaknesses or patterns. “We need to sever the connections,” you said thoughtfully. “But carefully—one wrong move, and we could set off a chain reaction.” It was a dangerous task but you saw no other option.

Denki looked uneasy, glancing at the shimmering web. “So, like detaching it? Do we even know what happens if we break those links?”

Bakugou’s eyes flicked over to you, his expression serious. “We’ve dealt with traps before. We just need to stay sharp. You got this,” he said, his confidence in you clear.

You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves as you reached for a small, precise blade tucked at your side. “Kyrah, keep watch,” you whispered, sending your familiar to hover above, vigilant for any changes in the flower’s behaviour. You carefully moved closer, extending your hand to the nearest glowing strand. It vibrated faintly, humming with energy that prickled against your skin.

The first cut was a slow, careful slice, the blade barely grazing the strand before it severed with a soft, almost musical twang. The orb shivered but remained stable, its light dimming only slightly. You let out a deep breath you had, the ache of fear pumping through your chest.

“First one’s done,” you whispered. “No sudden changes.”

The team watched in tense silence as you continued to sever the strands, each cut deliberate and precise. With every connection you broke, the orbs pulsed more faintly, their light waning as the artefact’s glow grew stronger. You were making progress. Goosebumps prickled at your skin as you continued this arduous process.

Just as you were about to sever the final strand, the flower shuddered, its petals quivering as if sensing the impending loss of the artefact. The pollen in the air thickened, swirling around you in a shimmering cloud that pulsed in time with the remaining strands. You felt a tug at your consciousness, as though the flower itself was reaching out, testing your resolve.

“Almost there,” you said, your voice strained but steady. “Stay focused. We’re almost through.”

With one final, careful motion, you cut the last strand. The artefact glowed brightly, freed from its magical bonds, but the moment was bittersweet. The flower let out a soft, mournful hum, as you reached forward, gingerly lifting the artefact from its resting place. It was warm to the touch, thrumming with residual energy, and as you held it up, the symbols etched into its surface seemed to shift and shimmer, whispering secrets of a bygone era.

“We’ve got it,” you said, turning to the group, relief flooding through you. The team exhaled collectively, their tense postures easing as they realised the worst was over.

Kirishima clapped you on the shoulder, his grin wide and full of admiration. “You did it. We did it.”

Mina looked at the artefact, her eyes bright with wonder. “It’s beautiful… and we finally have now.”

Bakugou’s gaze lingered on the artefact. A satisfied smirk crossed his face. “Took you long enough,” he teased, though there was no mistaking the pride in his tone.

With the artefact in hand, you all began the careful retreat, retracing your steps through the flower’s pinched path. The journey out felt lighter, the tension of the unknown replaced by the exhilaration of success.

As you emerged back into the clearing, the weight of the artefact in your hands felt like both an end and a beginning— a key that would unlock the next chapter of your journey. Emerging from the night flower’s cavernous interior, the group breathed in the fresher air of the night, the effects of the pollen gradually fading. The flower’s glow dimmed behind them as they made their way back to the camp, ready for much needed rest after the taxing climb and the encounter with the potent pollen.

The trek back to camp was subdued, each step heavy with exhaustion. It seemed even with some protection, the pollen still seeped through. Some are more affected than others. The effects of the potent pollen were clear: Denki and Mina, both more affected than the others, stumbled with a driftiness that made their movements lethargic. Kirishima and Bakugou lent their support, guiding them carefully through the forest paths.

As the group arrived at camp, the firelight cast long shadows over the clearing. Mina and Denki were already half-asleep, their eyes struggling to stay open. You and the others gently helped them settle into their bedrolls, tucking them in with a soft touch to ensure they were comfortable and warm. The faint glow of the fire danced across their peaceful faces, a stark contrast to the earlier intensity of the night.

Once the two were settled, you joined the rest of the team around the fire, where the relic rested on a small cloth spread out for examination. The relic was a striking metal sphere, exquisitely crafted with intricate astral carvings that seemed to shimmer with their own inner light. The metal surface was etched with swirling patterns, delicate yet profound, and at its centre, a glowing purple light pulsed softly, casting an ethereal glow that flickered like stardust.

The team gathered around the fire, their faces illuminated by the gentle light of the relic. The warmth of the fire provided a welcome contrast to the chill of the night, and the group’s mood was one of both relief and contemplation.

Bakugou, still catching his breath from the climb, examined the relic with a mix of satisfaction and wariness. “So, this is it, huh?” He grunted, “It’s taken us this long, but we’ve finally got it.”

Kirishima nodded, his gaze fixed on the glowing relic. “I’m glad we got it, but I also can’t help but think of how much further we still have to go.”

Sero, who had been silent for most of the evening, finally spoke up. “This is a big step, though. We’ve managed to retrieve the third piece. There’s still more to do, but this is a solid victory. We can rest tonight, regroup, and then figure out our next move.”

As the fire crackled softly, Bakugou took another look at the relic, his expression thoughtful. “We did good tonight. But Sero’s right,” He looks to Sero as he speaks, agreeing with his words. “Let’s not forget that this is only the beginning. We’ve got more pieces to find, and more dangers to face. But for now, we rest.”

The team nodded in agreement, the weight of their journey momentarily lifted by the sight of their hard-earned prize. The fire’s warmth and the relic’s gentle glow provided a moment of tranquillity before the next phase of their adventure.

As the night deepened and the firelight flickered, the group settled into a relaxed quiet, each person lost in their own thoughts, contemplating the journey ahead. The relic, now a tangible symbol of their progress, glowed faintly in the firelight. Though exhaustion weighed on everyone, there was also a quiet feeling of accomplishment. Everyone had come so far.

You quietly rose, slipping away from the camp and heading toward the clearing where the night flowers bloomed. Their soft, luminescent petals glowed under the moonlight, swaying gently in the cool breeze as if they were breathing along with the night. You wanted to pick them— gathering some of the pollen for future use. Last night’s collection with Bakugou hadn’t yielded anything as powerful as these, and you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to gather more. It was potent, and who knew when its properties might come in handy again? You moved carefully, taking care not to disturb the flowers too much as you began collecting the shimmering dust into small pouches.

As you focused on your task, the crunch of footsteps on the forest floor reached your ears, and you turned to see Bakugou making his way toward you. He approached with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “You’re not sneaking off to get yourself into more trouble, are you?” he asked, his hands on his hips as he towered over your kneeled form. “Last thing we need is you knocked out cold from this crap.”

You smiled faintly, amused by his thinly veiled concern. “I’m just gathering some of the pollen. Figured it might be useful later on.” You gestured to the glowing flowers, their petals delicate and otherworldly. “Besides, someone has to make sure we’re prepared for whatever’s next.”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow. "Weren't the ones from last night enough?" He remembered the previous night's foray in the woods, the moonlight casting long shadows as you both carefully harvested the blooms.

You shook your head, focusing on the task at hand. "These are different; they're much more potent," you explained, emphasising the unique properties of the new flowers. Your hands worked deftly, ensuring not a speck of the valuable pollen was wasted.

Bakugou huffed, his expression softening as he stepped closer, inspecting the night flowers. “These damn things… I’ve never seen anything like it.” He hesitated for a moment before reaching out to help, carefully holding open one of the pouches as you brushed the pollen into it. The task was simple, but the quiet between you was easy, almost comforting.

As you and Bakugou worked under the glowing canopy of night flowers, a gentle silence enveloped the clearing. The delicate pollen sifted into the bags you had brought, each grain shimmering like stardust in the moonlight, tiny flecks of magic that seemed to hold the secrets of the Veil itself.

“You’re pretty damn meticulous about this,” he remarked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Guess that’s what makes you good at what you do.”

You shrugged, the corners of your lips curling into a small smile. “It’s just part of the job. But it helps to be thorough… ”

As you finished filling the pouch, Bakugou glanced up at the night flowers above, their glow softening his usually sharp features. “You know, this whole thing… it’s not how I pictured it. Working with you, I mean. Thought you’d be more of a pain.”

You laughed softly, tying off the pouch and meeting his gaze. “And here I thought you’d be impossible to work with. Turns out we’re both stubborn, just in different ways.”

Bakugou smirked, shaking his head. “Guess that’s why it works. Anyway, don’t go hoarding all this crap. I don’t want to find out it’s toxic the hard way.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that slipped onto your lips. “I promise I won’t poison anyone. But thanks for the help.”

The serenity of the moment made you reflective, memories tugging at your thoughts as you worked. You watched the delicate night flowers sway gently in the breeze, their glowing petals casting a soft, ethereal light. “You know,” you began, breaking the comfortable silence, “the first time I saw these night flowers bloom was with my father. We were on a similar trek through a magical forest. He said these flowers were special, that there were countless wonders like this in the world.”

Bakugou’s eyes remained fixed on the task, but his quiet attentiveness encouraged you to continue. “What else did he say?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, tinged with genuine curiosity.

You smiled faintly, letting the memory wash over you like a warm breeze. “He told me that there’s so much more out there, beyond what we can see. He hoped seeing things like this would inspire me to travel, to explore as much as I could. It was his way of encouraging me to never settle, to always seek out new experiences, no matter how far or dangerous.”

Bakugou’s fingers paused for a moment, and you could see the weight of your words reflected in his expression. He didn’t often speak of his own past, but you knew there was something about your story that resonated with him. “Sounds like he knew what he was talking about,” he said, almost begrudgingly, as if admitting a truth he rarely voiced. “There’s a lot out there, and it’s easy to forget that when you’re stuck in one place, dealing with the same old crap.”

The quiet moment between you was soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching on the forest floor. Sero and Kirishima emerged from the shadows, drawn by the glow of the flowers and the hushed conversation. They hesitated briefly, not wanting to intrude, but curiosity got the better of them.

“Hey, what are you two doing out here?” Kirishima asked, trying to sound casual but clearly intrigued by the sight of you and Bakugou working together under the glowing canopy.

You glanced up, a bit surprised but not displeased to see them. “Just collecting pollen. It’s valuable, and we could use it for all kinds of things. Might come in handy later.”

Sero shot Bakugou a sly grin. “Looks like you’re having a heart-to-heart. We figured we’d crash the party and lend a hand.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes but didn’t bother arguing, instead handing Sero an empty pouch with a gruff nod. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re here now, so don’t just stand around. Grab some pollen. We need all the help we can get.”

Kirishima joined in, his broad smile contagious as he took his place beside you. “So, what’s the story with these flowers? They really bring back memories, don’t they?”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you continued your careful work. “They do. My father had this way of making everything seem magical. These flowers... they always look the same, every time I see them, but somehow they never lose that sense of wonder.”

Sero glanced over at you, peering at the pollen you've collected. “Sounds like your dad was a pretty inspiring guy. No wonder you’ve got such a sense of adventure, always looking for the next big thing.”

The four of you worked together, gathering the reflective pollen in a rhythm that felt natural, the task transforming into a shared experience. The gentle glow of the night flowers illuminated your small gathering, casting a warm, soft light over the clearing. Kirishima’s voice broke the quiet, his tone lighter, more playful. “So, what’s next after this? Another adventure waiting around the corner?”

You laughed, glancing over at Bakugou, who gave a small, begrudging nod, his usual stoic expression tinged with a hint of anticipation. “We’ll see,” you replied, your smile genuine. “For now, we’ve got a good haul of pollen and a bit more of the night’s magic to savour.”

As you continued to work, the atmosphere was filled with an easy companionship, the earlier tensions of the journey momentarily forgotten in the gentle glow of the night flowers. The night flowers, which had once been a reminder of your past, now symbolised the experiences you were all gathering together. Under their glowing canopy, your bonds strengthened. The journey and friendships were growing, day by day, moment by moment.

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a/n: one more chapter oh my god oh my god @chocogoldie @devils-adversary @l0kisbitch @miikii0 @onlyisaa @sleepisfortheweakpooh @helena-way07 @enzstr @kitsunetori

border credits: @/enchanthings & @/adornedwithlight

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