#tears of laughter or pure bewilderment who knows?

[tonycries]

Hi what’s the manga header for “slut me out”

Hihii lovely, it's "Until the Trashiest Boy Toy Exorcist Ren-kun Crushes Me in His Embrace." <3

[tinyyoungblood]

hi!! do you know that tiktok trend where the girl asks her bf if he can temporarily break up with her so she can be heartbroken when she listens to olivia rodrigo’s new album and the bf always says no? could you do that but with peter and avenger!reader? i don’t really know how the avengers play into that but i trust you to think of something great. love your work babes <3

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

word count: 2.7k

a/n: hey fren, tysm <3 i do know that trend, and it always warms my darn heart. you probably meant for this to be a headcanon but halfway through i realised that i was writing full sentences, so i just rolled with it bc i have no self-control lol enjoy x

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Peter, I need you to break up with me.”

Not a moment later, you heard a series of loud crashes and Peter stumbled out of the bathroom, hopping on one leg while fiddling with his zipper. “What did you just say?” His eyes were wild as they scanned your face.

“I need you to break up with me,” you repeated calmly, not taking your eyes off your laptop.

“Break up with you?” Peter echoed, hand raking through his hair in bewilderment. “Why would I do that? Do you want to break up?”

This made you look up. Peter was staring at you like you had just insulted his face, making it quite an effort to stay serious. “It’s just for 34 minutes and 46 seconds,” you assured. “So I can listen to Olivia Rodrigo’s new album.”

He blinked at you.

“What?”

“Please?” You set your laptop aside, shuffling to the end of the bed so you were sitting right in front of him. “I want to listen to it in full effect with a broken heart and everything.”

“I…” Peter slowly shook his head. A helpless laugh escaped him. “Um, no. Thank you.” He turned and made to return to the bathroom.

“Peter,” you whined and grabbed for his hand, pulling him to a halt.

“Sorry, angel.” He shrugged, supressing the faint tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Pleeeeaase.”

“Nope.”

You pouted. “We can break up when you train with Bucky! In that way you won’t even notice because you’ll be busy and distracted. I won’t even be on your mind.” You weren’t sure what you had said that made Peter stare at you like you were insane, but it took him a second to snap out of it.

He cupped your face with his hands and made sure to meet your eyes. “Babe, I think about you all the time.” He said it like it was a wish he wanted to word correctly. Slow and precise. Then he switched to a lighter tone that implied that he was done with the conversation. “I’m not breaking up with you.” With that he turned and left for the bathroom.

“Fine,” you called back although the water was already running and you doubted that Peter could hear you. And if he did, he probably didn’t care. You took that as your cue to leave. Defeated, you plucked your headphones into your phone and picked out a song of Olivia’s album at random.

Steve was lounging on the couch of the common room when you entered. He looked up from his magazine and gave you a small smile by way of greeting. You returned it by tapping two fingers at your temple in salute, ignoring the way how his stare lingered a little longer. You sat down next to him. When you locked eyes again, you saw the silent question on his face and let out a laugh. It ended up sounding more like a delightful scoff.

“I know Tony takes pride in being the philanthropist amongst us, but for someone who grew up in the ice age, you’re really good at reading people’s faces.” You wanted to annoy Steve, maybe even coax out a laugh, but he just kept looking at you, and you held his gaze. You were good at it—an aftereffect of living with Bucky who happened to love the same yoghurt as you did. Sometimes you put all western movies to shame with the way you narrowed your eyes at each other early in the morning in front of the fridge.

To your luck, Steve was just as stubborn, which meant that you two could’ve kept it going until death if it weren’t for the door banging open.

“I can’t believe you did this to me!” A voice boomed. You took a wild guess and assumed it was Clint.

“Tell me about it!” Another voice bellowed right back.

A second later, Sam and Clint marched into the room, furious, whereas Bucky strolled in behind them with no care in the world.

The former two were holding bags of food. Both were animated and waving their arms through the air while arguing. You turned down the volume of your phone in time to hear Steve demand, “What’s going on?”

Clint and Sam stared daggers at Bucky until Steve amended, “Buck, what did you do?”

The man in question turned around, facing his best friend in exasperation. “I asked these two to get food for me.” This earned him a snarl. Bucky waved them off and examined his metal arm, unconcerned. “Honestly, I have no idea why they’re getting so worked up about it.”

“We—” Sam gestured wildly between Clint and himself. “—were asked to pick up food for him from two different places. And neither of us knew about it!”

“Yes, neither of us knew,” Clint chimed in, eyes narrowing at Bucky who was busy flicking dust off his arm. “And I don’t know about you, Sam, but I was touched. I was moved, okay? Because Bucky never asks for anything and here I was, thinking we’re starting to bond or whatever but now I just feel USED.”

Sam gave a harsh sound in agreement.

“Bucky,” said Steve after no one had anything to add. “What do you have to say to that?”

Your gaze flitted between them, not sure what to expect. Bucky didn’t give any sign of wanting to respond, making you wonder if he had heard Cap at all. But then a slow smile swept over his lips and you noted that it was probably the most feline smile you’d ever seen. It was a smile storybook villains wore after burning down the world.

“The only thing I have to say is that I regret not having the moment they ran into each other in the elevator on video tape, because that—” He turned and looked Sam and Clint straight in the eye. “—was amazing.”

No one spoke.

“Ruthless,” you said under your breath and just like marionettes, the four men glanced you before another argument broke.

You took the chance to turn the volume back up. “happier” was playing and you settled further into the couch to watch the scene unfold. Sam was arguing so passionately that the vein on his neck was making an impressive appearance. Clint, on the other hand, had a palm pressed flat to his chest; his face showing pure betrayal. Bucky didn’t seem to care for the chaos. He tried multiple times to grab for the bags only for one of them to move out of his reach. When you glanced at Steve, you nearly lost it.

He was staring at them like his lifespan had just been reduced to ten years. He looked like he wanted to throw pebbles after them.

Nudging him with your arm, you silently handed him one of your earphones. He glanced at you and hesitated, probably thinking of the many times you had offered him a taste of blaring electronic music. You rolled your eyes and insisted again. This time, Steve took it and you watched in amusement as his brows rose in surprise.

“I like the piano,” he mouthed and glimpsed at the name of the song. You grinned.

In the meantime, Clint and Sam had decided to form an alliance. They had planted themselves in the opposite couch, digging into the contents of the brown bags while Bucky gawked at them from the other side of the room with his mouth ajar and heart ripped out of his chest. Shaking his head in disbelief, he let himself fall into the armchair facing them. He looked devastated. You weren’t sure if you had to stifle a laugh or tears.

Next to you, Steve chocked back a laugh. You quirked an eyebrow and considered him only to realise the reason behind his glee. Bucky was brooding in his seat while Sam and Clint did an excellence job on commenting every bite. Nothing has ever received as much praise as that pasta, and you were certain that if this were a cartoon, there would be rain clouds hovering above Bucky’s head. As if the angels had set it up themselves, you took notice of the lyrics.

I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go

So find someone great but don't find no one better

Bucky was pouting, poking the leather of his armchair with his finger while stealing glances at Sam and Clint. It was perfect. Steve slapped a hand on his chest and he tipped his head back, laughing.

I hope you're happy, I wish you all the best, really

Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me

And think of me fondly when your hands are on her

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

You were both laughing hysterically. The others had stopped their on-going war to stare at the two of you; their expressions baffled. The song came to an end and Steve gave back your earphone, rubbing his eye as if wiping away a tear. He rose and walked over to Bucky, hurling him to his feet and putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve said with a note of laughter in his voice. “There’s a song I need to show you.” You smiled as you watched them leave.

“Well, this was fun.” You pushed yourself off the couch and shook your head as Sam offered you some of his sushi. “Thanks, but I’m on a mission to get heartbroken.”

Leaving the men to their food, you wandered the halls and listened to “traitor” as you walked past Wanda’s room. Her door was open and you could see that Vision was in the middle of a chess game with Bruce and Wanda. By the looks of it, Vision was as good as winning and you reined the urge to cheer for him. You peaked around the door frame and saw that Vision had their king in check. Deep betrayal crossed Wanda’s face.

You chuckled quietly and whispered, “FRIDAY, play what I’m listening to right now through the speakers in Wanda’s room.” FRIDAY didn’t bother to respond but not a second later, the lyrics were blasting through her room and their heads snapped up in confusion.

Don't you dare forget about the way

You betrayed me

'Cause I know that you'll never feel sorry

For the way I hurt, yeah

“Wanda?“ You heard Vision’s careful voice. “What is going on?”

Guess you didn't cheat

But you're still

You're still a traitor

“I’m not sure, but these lyrics aren’t wrong…You are a traitor.” Wanda narrowed her eyes at him, slowly bobbing her head to the music. Treason danced in her eyes. It was the beginning of a villain origin story.

“Maybe it’s a sign of God,” Bruce said and you almost burst out laughing.

God, I wish that you had thought this through

Before I went and fell in love with you

“Hell yeah!” Wanda yelled and this time you bolted down the hallway, wheezing. You dashed right into Tony’s lab and slammed the door.

“What are you on?” He looked up in amusement. You simply shook your head, laughter still bubbling over your lips.

“Just spreading love in this facility.” You waved your hand at nothing in particular and Tony nodded.

“Right, I heard you asked Peter to break up with you to listen to that one album? Very dramatic. I like it.”

“See.” You gestured at him, indicating that he was the only one who got it. “It’s a good album. Maybe you should ask Pepper to divorce you.”

Tony gave a humourless laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think she would come back if I asked her.”

“Yikes,” you mumbled and this time Tony’s laughed for real.

“So what? You’ve just been walking around waiting for heartbreak?” He turned back to whatever he was working on. You stepped closer to get a peek.

“Precisely.”

“Sounds tiring.”

“I’m powered by exhaustion” You handed him the wrench he needed. “Want a listen? I think there’s a song you might like.”

He contemplated the offer and lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Sure, why not.” You couldn’t help but squeal. You knew that Tony probably didn’t care but sharing your music was always exciting.

Beaming, you removed your headphones and connected your phone to the speakers of Tony’s lab. The first tunes of “good 4 u” started playing and Tony tapped his foot to the beat, head bobbing just slightly. When the chorus hit, he stood up and you stepped back, thinking he wanted to headbang. Instead, he reached for a tool that was further away. You didn’t miss the way he moved his shoulders in a little dance move though.

“I like this one,” he said, and you flashed him a smile. You continued working on the suit, handing Tony things you knew he needed until you passed him a plier and he froze. You furrowed your brows, glanced at the tool you knew was the right one, and cocked your head in silent question.

Maybe I'm too emotional

Or maybe you never cared at all

Looking you straight in the eyes, he flung the plier over his shoulder, opened a drawer, and took out another plier to use on his suit. You gasped.

“How dare you,” you whispered in shock. Tony had the nerve to shrug.

“Enjoy your little heartbreak moment, Y/N.” He shooed you away like a cat. “FRIDAY, yank up the volume, would you.”

Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy

Not me, if you ever cared to ask

Good for you, you're doin' great out there without me

“Guys?” Peter’s voice was drowned out by the booming music. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching in amusement as you and Tony towered on the lab tables, using screwdrivers as provisional microphones. While Tony played a terrific air guitar, you sank dramatically to your knees and impressed the crowd with your air drumming skills.

“Guys?” Peter tried again, chuckling. This time you and Tony whipped around at the same time and pointed straight at Peter.

Like a damn sociopath

You threw your arms up in the air and spun in circles while Tony jumped into quite an impressive split leap.

I've lost my mind

I've spent the night cryin' on the floor in my bathroom

Just over the fact that I really don't get it

But I guess good for you

The song came to an end, and you leapt on Tony’s table to share a screwdriver with him as you sang the last lyrics together.

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

The song ended and all you could hear was heavy breathing. Peter began to clap. “This was great, you guys. Wow.”

You exchanged glances with Tony before making a show of bowing at the waist.

“So this is what happens when I refuse to break up with you?” Peter strolled over to where you sat on the lab table, positioning himself between your legs. Tony chuckled and jumped off to grab a water bottle from across the room.

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate on that,” you said, just for the devil of it.

Peter smiled. “Cap and Bucky are crying over a song, Vision is sending Wanda flowers in ten-minute intervals, and you are down here having a rock concert with Tony.”

You gave him a toothy grin. “I was just feeling sour.”

* * *

stay hydrated pals

[celestialholz]

What's that I hear? We need a 2.10 fix stat?

You're goddamn fuckin' RIGHT we do.

... I don't know what the bloody hell was on my theoretical screen this week - and I say that because I refuse to actually watch the damn thing through, thank you Qcard Discord beloveds for saving my ass on that - but I do know that it was a fucking travesty. I've seen the Qcard bit, and I do not approve. It was cute and all, but so very wrong. Mumsy Qcard is not pleased, to put it fucking lightly.

So, yeah. To hell with that. Let me just fix that right up for you all... this is how it SHOULD have been. Because unlike Star Trek, I am not a goddamn coward.

(I've heard that the fandom legend that is @alarajrogers is also fixing this car crash, and it'll probably be better than mine - royalty trumps the peasantry. ❤ And I'm sure we won't be the only ones - seriously, CBS. What is wrong with you? We can have ladies only previously seen with men, yet we can't have Qcard? You're just going to let Q die unfulfilled, are you? Bastards. 😒)

Welcome, dears, to the unofficial Q-uick Qcard for 2.10, which I like to call: Farewell... For Now.

"I am dying, alone. I am dying alone. I do not want that for you."

It was severe and heartfelt, and Jean-Luc choked on a bitter rasp of laughter.

"Well, you've rather miscalculated then," he said simply, "because your death means I am alone."

A hundred emotions flittered across an immortal face; they settled a second later on horror-tinged bewilderment.

"... What?"

"Oh, yes," Jean-Luc murmured, vague smile hopeless. "What, did you think I'd be fine with going back home to Laris, after all of this?"

Q was stricken. "I - yes, frankly -"

"Well, would you look at that." He chuckled, amusement only a veneer. "IQ of two thousand and five, and you still can't see it."

"See what?" Q almost snapped, desperate. "This is me, freeing you - you're supposed to grasp it with both hands -"

"Oh, and thank you?"

"No," came the sincere reply, instant. "I'm not doing this to be thanked."

"And I'm very glad," Jean-Luc told him coolly. "Because I'm not certain I feel especially grateful. You could have just allowed my fear to destroy -"

He found a finger on his lips suddenly, a wild tremor running through it, and eyes that wore pure despair locked to his.

"Look who doesn't understand, now." The whisper was pure agony. "I could never have allowed that, you complete fool."

Jean-Luc's eyes widened, and a moment of soft understanding passed between them.

"An impasse, then." He shook his head. "You've helped me realise that I've needed to let go of my mother's death for eighty-one years; I finally let go, I finally understand, and yet -"

"And yet, here we are." Q smiled painfully. "In the very same room."

"Why does it have to be HERE, for god's sake -"

"Mm, something like that." Q's face burned with anguish. "Go on, ask what you want to."

Jean-Luc inhaled clarifyingly, wishing to scream.

"Why me? All these years, Q -"

"Because the sun maintains celestial control," he told him simply, grasping his hand tightly. "Because the sun has been alone for so very long; because the sun without the moon has nothing. No equal, no companion... no hope."

A tear streaked down the admiral's cheek. "And because the moon being alone is temporary."

"You're with me," Q said softly, offering him a watery smile. "The sun wasn't strong enough, darling."

"... And the moon's meant to be?" Jean-Luc's words were almost frantic. "Perhaps the sun credits me with too much."

A soft laugh left Q. "Well, I am very sentimental about mon capitaine."

"... You've also always given him the choice," he whispered, and sorrow flicked through ancient eyes.

"Yes, well - you still have one, really." He stared steadily at him, willing him to understand. "Not here, but... later."

Pure hope burned in the human. "'Later'?"

"Later," Q said, warmly. "You've got the key."

"... The skeleton key," he noted softly, pulling it from his pocket; it gleamed in red and black, and Q closed his fingers around it.

"The skeleton key," he murmured. "Every door is open to you, my dear."

Jean-Luc breathed a bitter rasp. "But it's the only key for this door."

"Yes," the god answered, certain. "The sun only belongs with the moon, Jean-Luc."

"Tell me what to do," Jean-Luc demanded, furious. "Tell me how to bring you back."

Q's gaze shone. "You don't have to, Jean-Luc - tell me you understand that. I'm not doing this for a promise of -"

"Q." His voice brokered no arguments, every particle the consummate leader. "Tell me how to bring you back."

"I... there are loopholes, and there are no guarantees, but -"

"But the moon has no desire to be alone either," was the simple interruption, the passion blazing in charcoal eyes. "And he has even less to settle."

"'Settle'," Q quoted in disbelief, marvelling at the very thought. "You could be happy with her, you know, or some vague approximation thereof -"

"Laris is a good woman, and she frankly deserves better than I," Jean-Luc murmured, gaze tearful. "She deserves someone who could love her in the way that I do you."

Q choked on air, astonished. "You... you don't -"

"Oh, I do," the admiral confirmed, with a gentle smile. "And I suspect the sun doesn't go supernova for a moon he doesn't concur with on that."

Lips met his immediately, celestial tracks of tears dampening his withered cheeks with the joys and sorrows of the cosmos.

"No," Q breathed against his mouth. "No, he doesn't."

They kissed for a long, urgent moment, the sands of time slipping from the proverbial hourglass; the fusion of harmony and spirit and finally, finally having a true purpose in a wild, unforgiving cosmos.

"So," Jean-Luc whispered into him afterwards, a single tear streaming from him, too. "Not farewell, then, mon soleil."

"Mon -" Q inhaled sharply, hand trembling fiercely against his cheek. "More... á bientôt, somehow."

"Count on it." The promise was ferocious, deafening, and Q emitted a soft, stuttered sob.

"I shall miss you, nevertheless. Every moment."

Picard spontaneously embraced him, whispered tears burning them both.

"There won't be many," he vowed, as a hand rose ever so reluctantly to click. "For once, Q, let me save you."

A tender, intimate laugh left his god, and his head shook, gaze aflame.

"You're behind the times in more ways than one, dearest - you've been doing that for the past thirty-six years." His smile could have shattered diamond with its sheer warmth. "Je t'aime, mon capitaine. Bonne chance. And trust your instincts."

With a snap, Jean-Luc Picard was flung forwards a shattered man; he called off the detonation, and swore to every star he saw through the Stargazer's viewscreen, and the god he so adored, that he would rebuild.

[thepremedthatwrites]

Isolated

request: You had married Peter as an arrangement.  There was no love involved.  At least that’s what you thought but things can change.  While you may have been unsure of your feelings for the High King, you were certain of one thing: your loneliness.

warning: slight smut in the beginning 

part 2 | part 3

Peter’s warm breath tickled my neck as he moaned into my ear.  I could feel him spill into me, my back arching in response.  We stayed in place for a moment, both of us panting, until he climbed off of me.  Peter slowly climbed out of bed, his back muscles flexing as he bent down to grab his clothes.  I watched motionless as he put on his clothes.  “Are you going to get dressed?” he asked, his voice void of any emotion.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice hoarse causing me to clear my throat.  “In a minute.”  He nodded, quickly fixing his clothes before leaving the room.  I let out a sigh, staring at the ceiling.  My heart rate had returned to normal as I rolled out of bed.  I quickly dressed, fixing my hair before leaving the room.  

I toyed with the ring that rested on my ring finger as I made my way down the hall.  I opened the large doors to reveal a nursery.  I smiled as I picked up the child from the crib.  “Hello Ollie,” I said, rocking the baby back and forth in my arms.  He had his father’s bright blue eyes which were wide with bewilderment as he reached out to grab a strand of my hair that hung over him.  I chuckled, gently removing the hair from his grasp.  “That’s mommy’s hair silly,” I said softly.  

“I still don’t get why you married her,” a voice on the other side of the door said.  

“Susan, we’ve been over this,” another voice replied calmly.  It was Peter’s.  “It was the best way to calm the tension between our nation and Calormen.”

“It’s stupid is what it is,” Susan replied.  “You were in a perfectly happy relationship with Maria.”

“I know,” Peter sighed.  “But I have to put my nation before my feelings.”

“Well, what about Maria’s feelings?  Don’t you think hers are important too?”  Peter stayed silent.  “I guess Narnia is more important than her too.”  The sound of heels could be heard getting gradually softer before being completely inaudible.  I could hear Peter sigh before the door to the room slowly started to open.  

I immediately turned my head to Ollie who had already started to suck on my breast.  “I didn’t know you were in here.”  I turned to Peter.

“I always feed Ollie at this time,” I stated before turning my attention back to my baby.  I could feel Peter linger near the door.  I turned to see him looking around the room.  “I’ll be done soon.  Then you can be with him.”  Peter nodded at this, putting his hands behind his back and walking around the room, inspecting the decorations.  

“You didn’t hear anything before, did you?”

“Hear what?” I lied, suddenly glad that Ollie had decided that he was full.  

“Nothing,” Peter said as I put Ollie back in his crib and adjusted my dress to cover myself.  I inhaled sharply as I felt Peter make his way to the crib, his body only inches from mine.  “He has your nose,” Peter pointed out.  

“And your eyes,” I replied.  I hoped that my heartbeat wasn’t as loud as I thought it was as Peter smiled down at Ollie.

“He does, doesn't he.”  I nodded, clearing my throat and sliding away from Peter who had slowly made his way closer to me.  “He’s all yours,” I said quickly, already making my way towards the door.  

“Thank you,” Peter replied.  I turned to him, giving a quick nod before leaving the room.  I felt my face burn up as I made my way to the library.  My brain replayed the feeling of Peter’s body so close to mine.  The doors slammed behind me as I made my way to a secluded corner, not wanting anyone to see me in such a state.  Why was I freaking out over something so small?  Surely Peter and I had been in much more intimate situations.  But the way we were standing so close, looking down at the child we had both created.  It was like we were a true family filled with love and admiration.  No.  That was stupid.  

Our relationship was not one of love but one of power.  This thought only turned my attention to the conversation I had overheard.  I could already feel the tears burning my eyes as a loud sob escaped me causing me to cover my mouth with my hands as I sat on the floor.  I had been in Narnia for almost a year now and I felt just as much of a stranger as when I had arrived.

I missed Calormen.  I missed the familiarity of my castle, the servants who always gave me friendly smiles, and my brothers who would turn boring days of study into fun adventures.  I missed feeling at home.  The sound of the library doors opening caused me to silence myself.  I quickly wiped away any remaining tears as laughter rang throughout the room.  I got up from my seat on the floor, smoothing out my dress, before walking through the shelves of books.  

I glanced around the corner to see Lucy and Edmund at a table, a chessboard between them.  “You’re cheating,” Edmund complained, causing Lucy to deny the accusation.  I shifted my weight causing the floorboard beneath me to creak.  I winced as the two turned towards the noise.  I revealed myself to them.  The smiles that had been on both of their faces slowly disappeared.  

“Sorry,” I muttered.  “I was just looking at the books.”  I quickly grabbed a random book from the shelf before turning around and walking to the door.  I could hear them whisper behind me as I left the room.  I let out a sigh, mentally cursing myself for being so careless before making my way to my bedroom.  Peter was most likely in a meeting which meant the room would be empty.  

I threw the book onto my nightstand before flinging myself onto the bed.  Almost immediately, tears started to stream down my face.  I was not wanted in Narnia and Narnia had made it very clear to me.  My body shook as I continued to cry until my body could produce no more tears, leaving my body to only shake as pure exhaustion overtook me.  I felt myself start to drift off, wishing to be in my bed in Calormen instead of the bed of loneliness that I laid in.  

“I’m pregnant,” I announced as Peter started to undress.

“When did you find out?”

“Yesterday.”  I watched as he put on a pair of pants before climbing into bed with me.  

“I’ll alert the others tomorrow.”  I nodded.  A year had passed since I overheard Peter and Susan’s conversation and though I would never admit it, I was hoping that being able to produce another child for Peter - for Narnia - would prove my worth to everyone.  We both laid in silence.  Soon enough, the sound of light snoring could be heard from Peter.  My eyes adjusted to the darkness as I studied the man lying next to me.  I wondered what it would be like if we were actually in love with each other.  Would Peter respond with great excitement when I informed him of my pregnancy?  Would we cuddle together to stay warm during the cold winter nights?  I wondered what it would be like to have his strong arms wrapped around me.  

I turned around, now staring at the dark room around us.  Why was I thinking of this?  Was it because I was lonely or because I actually had feelings for Peter?  Maybe it was a mixture of both.

The next morning, I entered the dining room to see the other royals sitting around the table.  “Peter told us you’re expecting,” Susan stated.  Although there was a smile on her face, it didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Yes, I am,” I replied, taking my seat next to Peter.

“Congratulations,” Lucy said.  Her smile seemed to be a bit more genuine.  Of all the royals, Lucy had been the kindest when I had arrived although I could still sense a slight feeling of disdain from her.  Though I wasn’t sure if the disdain was for me or the arranged marriage I was in.  

“Thank you.”  I could feel Maria staring at me, her brother Caspian sitting next to her.  I focused my attention on my breakfast, feeling the guilt build within me.  I barely ate anything as I felt the intense stare of Maria the entire time.  Instead, I pushed the food around my plate before excusing myself after an acceptable amount of time had passed.  

Meals seemed to occur the same way for the next month.  Maria’s eyes seemed to be looking right into my soul, judging every sin that I had ever committed.  My guilt would eat away at me, inhibiting me from eating anything on my plate.  

I closed the door behind me after another horrendous dinner where Maria had reminisced of the times Peter and she used to have.  I couldn’t bear the reminder that I had stripped Maria of her lover.  I was too exhausted to worry about table manners as I excused myself almost immediately after she had started speaking.  I now laid down in bed, almost too tired to even keep my eyes open.

“(Y/n)?”  I opened my eyes to see Peter walking into the room.

“I’m sorry for leaving like that,” I said, my voice weak.  “I just couldn’t handle it anymore.”  

“(Y/n) I’m worried,” he said, making his way to me.  “If you continue to not eat, you could lose the baby.”  I could feel the tears forming at his words.  

“Don’t you think I know that?” I said, my voice a bit louder than before.  “I’m trying Peter.  I’m really trying but it’s hard when I’m not even wanted here.”  I could hear my voice break at the end of the sentence causing me to wince.  Peter seemed to freeze in place as tears streamed down my face.  “Goddammit!” I sobbed, burying my face into my hands.  I hated this.  I hated feeling so alone.  I hated that I could feel my health deteriorating.  I hated that I was crying.  And I especially hated that I was crying in front of Peter.  I could feel Peter watching me in silence as I broke down in front of him.

I felt the bed bend underneath the weight of another body.  I felt a pair of arms wrap around me, hands rubbing my back soothingly as I sobbed into Peter’s chest.  “I’m so sorry,” Peter said softly, repeating the phrase over and over again as I continued to sob.  Eventually, my sobs turned into whimpers before turning into silence.  My entire body felt heavy as I continued to lean into him, his arms remaining where they were.  We both sat there in deafening silence. 

That night, my question of what it would be like to cuddle with Peter was answered.  His strong arms made me feel protected as I fell asleep in them, our legs tangled together like vines.  Our relationship was not perfect.  In fact, it was far from it.  But we had each other and maybe that was enough.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 23 Truths on the wall

Chapter 23 of Different light

A/N- I hope you guys like it, I liked how it turned out ;)

Warning- Angst!! Fluff, swearing, talks of death.

Pairing- Harry Potter x Malfoy!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

A bright blur of light flashes in your memory, a nice warm feeling kissing the premises of your skin reminisces in that same memory. Joyous filled laughter echoes faintly in your ears and two blurred figures dance in your peripheral view of the past you.

Three words were the only vivid memory, even if the voice that spoke them was disoriented just like the face of the person that picked you up from the blanket.

“….my lovely girl,” they murmured, the smile they flashed was as bright as the sun burning in the sky.

Everything else fell dark just like the back of your eyelids in that shortest interval of time that you blinked. Who was it that you saw? Why did the memory cross your mind now? What was it about 12 Grimmauld Place that triggered never before thought of memories?

“What-what are you two doing here?” Harry asked in a panicked voice that wouldn't shake off after your jumpy reunion.

Clementine stands up from the ground with your hand wrapped around hers for support, and once she’s to her given height you two share a short look before she nudges you to speak. “We’re here in search of the truth.” Your eyes flicker to the remainder of the hall behind him. “You said you saw my name on the tree painted on the wall. We’re here for that.” You meet Harry’s blue eyes and furrow your eyebrows. “What about you three?”

Hermione helps Ron to his feet and answers for Harry before he has the chance to form a word. “We’re using this place as a hideout.

“As a hideout?” You ask with concern. “What happened?”

“Your friends attacked us,” Ron shot out without hesitation. “At the wedding. At the cafe. They almost killed us. I thought you—”

“Ron,” Hermione scolded him sharply before her eyes returned to you, noticing the grim expression taken over your features. “We’re fine now. Obviously. Everyone else is too.”

“I,” you utter in disbelief, worry drowning out the bubbling curiosity, the happiness you felt upon seeing Harry and the other two. The feeling took the ability to think clearly, or think at all for a few seconds as you stood frozen in bewilderment. “…didn’t know,” you reveal once you can speak and think of words. “Sorry. I was kept in my room after I returned. I would’ve said something, I would’ve warned—”

“Y/N,” Harry cuts you off with his hand gently landing on your shoulder. “It’s alright. We made it out fine, it wasn’t your fault.”

You draw out a deep breath and nod in comprehension to his assurance watching as he turns to point his head to the hall they had come out of. “The rooms over here. Let’s go, I imagine you don’t have much time.”

Harry turned on his heels and guided the group through the dark dimly lit home. Unlike the three walking ahead of you, curiosity probes your mind, making your eyes wander the black halls you walk through, noticing the elegant rundown wallpaper that was tearing from the walls. Some lights flickered, giving away their improper maintenance. The wooden floors you were walking on were clean, like surprisingly so for an abandoned house, but you could still see their old age that began to lift some boards off their placement. When you took a sharp turn to walk into a different hall, there you saw cloaked portraits that had no dust collected on its exterior, again it was clean. It leads you to come to a slow stop in front of one of the portraits out of pure curiosity.

Different thoughts run through your head, but a prominent one brings an instinct to lift your hand from your side to feel the green silk between the pad of your thumb and index finger, feeling no particles of dust collect on your fingers, oddly enough. You crouch down and swipe your finger on the floorboard, again feeling nothing on your fingers. It heightened your curiosity, making your eyebrows knot in confusion, and your eyes gaze narrow to a perplexed glare.

“I wouldn't lift the covers.” Harry startles you. “The painted people will scream at you.”

You whip your head to your side and stand up from the ground, offering him a nervous smile as you take a step away from the portrait. “It’s weird,” you bring up, “this place is so supposed to be abandoned, yet it looks as if someone was just here.”

Harry walks towards you and turns his head to look at the silk green cloaks, his own fingers feeling the smooth material. “Well maybe it’s a ghost?” He smiles, “we got scared by one on our first day here.”

The corner of your lips tug to a sloppy smile just before you shake your head and laugh softly. “You’re telling me some person in their afterlife is maintaining this house? Who would do such a thing?”

“It must be a hobby,” Harry jokes, “you know, having all eternity to roam earth seems boring.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, must be if you’re cleaning houses.” You walk forward and he doesn’t wait up a moment longer and continues to lead the way. This time instead of walking ahead, Harry walks at your side and steals glances your way to continue your conversation, albeit bringing up a different topic.

“Thanks by the way,” he scoffs, “for your birthday present. It was….exciting to say the least.”

You stifle a laugh and drift your eyes to catch his pointed glare that soon was twisted into a mischievous look.

“Albeit it wasn’t I who turned blue all day.” He smirks. “Ron did.”

“What?” You deadpan.

Harry snickers and briefly covers his mouth. “He took a bite from the cupcake before it exploded all over his face.” He turns his body to face you better. “You see I know you. Before you left you whispered something to the twins, and that next day, they made a big deal about the present you left them to give to me.” Harry smirks. “I knew that if you wanted me to have something for my birthday, you’d be the one to give to me, so this present immediately caught my attention. And after I opened it, and read the short note, I gave the cupcake to Ron.”

You roll your eyes and groan. “Ughh. Boo. Why couldn’t you pretend you didn’t know.” You smile. “Would’ve made for such a happy surprise when the twins sent me the picture of you all blue.” You both come to a stop beside a door beside the staircase before you enter the room. “I could’ve had another victim in my collection of birthday surprises.” You stare off at the ceiling to name the people you’ve tricked on your fingers. “I tricked Draco, Clementine, and Blaise.” You grin. “Ahh, his reaction was the funniest.”

“Blaise?” Harry questions, his smile dropping and his eyes turning to a glare for someone who wasn’t here.

You nod and drop your eyes to look back at him. “Yeah. Blaise Zabini.” You narrow your gaze and smile brightly. “My friend.”

“Right.” Harry grumbled. “Your. Friend.”

“Tsk,” you breathe out with a mischievous smirk playing on your lips. “He’s a good friend. You don’t have to be jealous.”

“You wonder why he’s a good friend?” Harry retorts. “When he’s a total asshole to everyone else?” He doesn’t let you answer and continues in a bitter tone. “Because he likes you. As more than friends should.”

“So?” You queried. “It doesn’t matter because I like you.” Your lips tug to a wider smile and you stroke his cheek with your thumb once before you turn to walk into the room.

Once you step inside the bright room, you’re instantly taken back by the tall, wide painted tree on the walls. There are multiple branches that grew out from one another, hundreds of them, most decorated with a small portrait of a family member and a name written elegantly on the bottom of the picture, all connecting to the big tree painted in the corner of a wall, and leading up to the first generation. The sight, you did have to admit was mesmerizing, and the thought behind it was brilliant. Well, besides the burnt out portraits that ruined the beauty of it all.

“Why are these burnt?” Clementine pointed to one of the black scorched portraits that only had the names left as memory of what was there.

Harry walks past you and falls in front of one of them, his voice changing to a quieter and much sadder one. “They’re because they were shunned from the family.” He sighs. “Punishment for what they did.”

You fall beside him and your eyes land on the burnt out portrait his eyes are focused on; Sirius Black’s. He doesn't focus on it long though, it was a quick longing glance to avoid getting even more upset. To avoid getting pampered by pity filled comments. Instead said boy parts from your side and takes a couple steps to the side to stop in front of a more empty part of the painted wall.

“Here,” Harry points out. “Here’s your name.” His eyes flicker to your approaching figure, and his breath for a moment catches in his throat at the anticipation that creates tension. The other three that had been looking around the room finally walked up behind Harry and you, standing in wait as you watched the lone leaf with your name on it, lost and stuck between empty branches that had one branch broken.

No one pressures you to uncover more, they waited even if you could feel the impatience in each of them. Not like you could think of doing much but stare at the painting in utter silence, and get lost in wonder—maybe it was that you were in fact nervous and scared to know more, know the full truth. Parts of it were painted here, after trying to fight against it and trying to find proof to prove it and discreetly deny it, here your name was waiting to find its rightful place.

You wanted to know the truth, finally relieve yourself from the stress, but you couldn’t help but think about the problems that would come with knowing. Did you really want to face those after? You had to. You needed to.

“Alright,” you sigh as you take a step forward and pull your wand from your sweater, letting the tip hover over your name. To once again stand in wait, something that Harry was quick to notice, and try his best in comforting you with a simple look. “It’s…time,” you mutter one last time before you barely touch the leaf your name is written on, before the broken branch begins to slowly fix itself, releasing the leaf that had been stuck between it and letting it float away. While it flew towards the names of other family members, you all watched it begin to sprout to a branch that began to drag between other branches, and swerving past names.

“Is it—” Ron parted his lips in disbelief, watching the branch pass Sirius’ name and growing quiet in anticipation, until the branch stopped completely. After that you walked where to where it was, and prepared yourself to do another spell to push it to reveal the truth, but before you could raise your wand again the branch began to extend towards a branch that was sprouting from a larger one. You hesitated to follow where your branch had connected to, but you gave yourself a last confidence boost and let your eyes roam towards your portrait that slowly began to appear on the wall. Every feature delicately formed on your face, painted on the wall.

It was then, when you lifted your eyes to find out who it had connected to, that you saw the portrait of a man and the elegant writing of his name. Finally revealing the truth that had plagued your mind for months now. Making every person in the room, including yourself, go speechless after you read the name of the man that was your actual father; “Regulus Arcturus Black.”

——

Thoughts in your mind failed to form, just like the words you could utter out loud. You couldn’t find the right words to say to try and ease all the high running emotions that raced through you. The surprise, anger, sadness, all crashed into another, mixing and knotting together into a tight tangled cluster of emotions you couldn’t resolve to just focus on one.

Happiness is probably something you should feel, after all you just learned the identity of your actual, biological father, but that specific emotion was overshadowed by what left you silent on the old couch in the drawing room. Nobody could say anything to make you feel better, what was there to say exactly? Nothing. All they could do was be there for moral support.

Harry was one of the most supportive, he kept himself busy around the abandoned house, but he came to you by the fireplace to check up on you. His blue eyes gleamed by the reflected fire on his irises, his pink lips carried a small warm smile that went with the dancing scorching flames set ablaze in the fireplace. His silence was deafening, but that was broken soon by the sounds of Clementine playing the piano in the same drawing room, the talent she demonstrated on the keys making Ron jealous and competitive, only causing the fine calming tune to sound chaotic. Hermione only watched the pair from one of the couches with a disapproving look and a threatening smile.

Conversation directed at you didn’t happen until minutes later when Harry began to caress your shoulder, to finally begin to speak on the subject. “I’m sure they didn’t tell you for a good reason.”

You swallow and drop your head, feeling the heat of the flames begin to warm the top of your head. “I know. It’s just,” you pause and sigh, feeling the need to cry, but unable to muster the energy to do so; maybe it was also because you were confused, unable to grasp onto a specific feeling, but you just couldn’t shed a tear. Even if you did feel sad. “Why? Why did they have to hide it? I mean, why didn’t they tell me?” You lift your head and turn it to the side to meet Harry’s gaze. “If they wanted to keep it a secret from everyone else then they could’ve told me that. I wouldn't have told anyone, knowing the truth would’ve been fine.”

Harry’s gaze shifts to the fire, the different thoughts in his head flickering in his eyes, and showing themselves by the way he suddenly frowned and clenched his jaw. It took a minute for him to express his thoughts, when he did and it only created a thicker tension. “At least they treated you nice. I mean at least they didn’t treat you differently. Sometimes it seems they treat you better than Draco.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and your shoulders stiffen while your eyes turn to perplexed gaze. Your lips part to argue, but you can’t even say anything to negate that, he was right. Even if it still didn’t erase from the fact that they lied about it, even after you asked Narcissa. Your anger was a valid emotion.

That’s what it was, anger. Solely anger. For now.

Other emotions were there ready to be spilled out, but you held them back. Just like the rage you felt. You couldn’t just show them, there wasn’t time.

“By the way y/n,” Hermione chimed in. “Earlier today, we found Regulus’ room.”

You look over your shoulder and meet her eyes, feeling curiosity begin to brew within you.

“But,” her eyes dropped. “We didn’t find anything, the room was just a mess. But,” she then looked at Harry with excitement gleaming in her eyes. “Harry the locket? Have you shown her the note by Regulus?”

Said boy nods. “She was the one that was able to open it, after I couldn’t do it for months.”

“Oh,”

You nod and sit up straight to interject with an upcoming thought. “Guess it makes sense now. Why I could open it.”

Harry hums, and the room falls completely silent. It isn’t until Clementine speaks up from the piano stool that the room is filled with noise. “Which locket may I ask?”

“Slytherin's locket,” Hermione answers. “It had a note in it, that was signed off with the initials R.A.B. But the locket turned out to be a fake, now we’re looking for the real one.”

“Here, I’ll show you,” Harry says as he stands and walks to the kitchen, causing everyone, including you to follow suit. Once everyone is seated, Harry pulls out the note from the locket and begins to read it outloud. “I know I will be dead long before you read this. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it. R.A.B.” Harry folds the note, and Clementine takes it from his hand to unfold it and read it quietly to herself. All while you leant back in your chair to rock it from the back two legs, and keep balance with your hands grabbing on the edge of the table, while your eyes get lost on the wooden table as your mind begins to wonder.

Now the note had more significance to it than it already did. The other day, the initials flew past your head with no significance attached to it. Now you craved to learn more about the man.

“R.A.B, is Sirius’s brother?” Ron asked out loud, earning your undivided attention

“Yes.” Hermione confirms. “Question is, did he actually destroy the real Horcrux?”

Clementine puts the folded note down and parts her lips to add something, but the sudden sound of clattering coming from behind a closed door stops her, and has everyone snapping their heads to that specific direction behind Ron in a speechless silence. You meet Harry’s gaze with a silent terror holding your breath, something that keeps you from trying to investigate further unlike Harry as he stands from his chair to go look. Hermione stands up to watch Harry carefully step towards the door, while he proceeds to pull his wand out while he reaches for the door to swing it open, revealing a house elf hidden in the hall. Harry is quick to grab him by the collar to drag him out, growing physically more upset as he lets go of him harshly.

“You’ve been spying on us, have you?” Harry spat to the elf at the end of the table. Clementine and you stand from your chairs and stay a couple steps behind Harry to see better.

“Kreacher has been watching.” The elf answers spitfilly.

“Maybe he knows where the real locket is.” Hermione suggests, causing Harry to grab the locket from the table to show it to Kreacher in a frustrated urgence.

“Have you seen this before?”

Kreacher ducks his head and ignores Harry’s demands, letting his eyes wonder to Clementine and you instead. That is before Harry presses the matter, finally getting an answer from the elf. “It’s Master Regulus’ locket.” He hisses.

“But there were two, weren’t there?” Harry continues, “where’s the other one?”

Kreacher whimpers, hesitating to answer almost as if it pained him to build the courage to speak. “Kreacher doesn’t know where the other locket is.”

Hermione steps forward toward Kreacher, showing her desperation for the topic. “Yes, but did you ever see it? Was it in this house?”

“Filthy mud-blood! Death eaters are coming—” Kreacher snaps sharply before he gets cut off by Ron lifting a metal spoon to threaten the bitter elf. Hermione and Harry stop him, but the elf still retorts. “Blood traitor Weasley.”

Having enough of the matter, and Kreacher's obvious avoidance, Clementine pushes past Harry with you in her hold to try her own luck. “Kreacher is it?” She doesn’t let him answer and continues. “If you’re not going to answer them, answer us. Clementine Zabini, and answer her.” She pushes you forward and gains the elfs curiosity. “She’s your Master's daughter. Regulus Blacks daughter. Tell her where the locket is.”

Kreacher eyes narrow on your face while standing up straight and remaining silent. This time albeit in a more in disbelief silence that took him a moment to refocus on the matter in hand. “Yes.” He answers in a more willing tone. “It was here. It was in this house. A most evil object.”

“How do you mean?” Harry asks, stepping forward as the elf stepped back. Only the elf glared at Harry again before he answered.

“Before Master Regulus died he ordered Kreacher to destroy it but no matter how hard Kreacher tried, he could not do it.”

“Well where is it now?” Harry probes. “Did someone take it?”

“He came in the night.” Kreacher seethed, “he took many things, including the locket.”

“Who did? Who was it Kreacher?”

Kreacher groans. “Mundungus. Mundungus Fletcher.”

“Find him.” Harry demands, but the elf stays still and ignores Harry.

Finally, on your own will, you fall beside Harry and look down at the elf. “Kreacher, find the thief Mundungus.”

The elf’s eyes slide to your face and he doesn’t hesitate to leave.

——

“This all there is of him.” You sigh and drop your eyes from the disorganized room. “All I can have of him.” You stroke your thumb over the locket, drawing in a deep inhale it then exhale slowly, feeling your chest rise and fall inside the cluttered and dark room. “I can’t even wrap my mind around it. It seems fake.”

“I mean Lucius and Narcissa did raise you from a very young age, they made you believe you were theirs all along,” Clementine comforted you. “It’d be weird if you didn’t feel odd about it all.” She steps back away from the room, and waits for you outside patiently. “What are you going to do now? I mean, are you going home?”

Your footsteps creak on the wooden floor as you leave the room, and leave it’s presence behind the closed door. A minute passes while you tuck away the locket and think first before you answer. “I don’t have a choice. I can’t leave Draco, and I have to confront them. For now though, I have time. I sent a note saying I was staying at yours.”

Clementine smirks. “And I wrote I was staying at yours. So we need to be quick before our mothers find out.”

You smile faintly and nod. “Right.” Without needing to add more, the both of you walk back downstairs to join Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the drawing room. However, neither of you stay long before a loud thud takes you all to the kitchen.

“Harry Potter. So long it’s been.” You hear Dobby say as he entered the kitchen hanging onto Mundungus getting forced in by Kreacher. Dobby's eyes then go to you and his smile remains. “Master y/n. Hello.”

The corner of your lips tug to a smile and you offer him a small wave while you watch Kreacher bring Mundungus inside, and fall altogether. The man is quick to get up after Kreacher and Dobby, grabbing his injured area on his head after he had smacked it on a pot—“as requested,” Kreacher says while he walks to close the door. “Kreacher has returned with the thief…”

Noticing the wand in the man’s hand, Hermione pulls out her own wand. “Expelliarmus.”

“…Mundungus Fletcher.”

“What you playing at?” Mundungus remarks. “Setting a pair of bleeding house-elves after me.”

“Dobby was only trying to help.” The little elf counters after he jumps onto the black wooden chair. “Dobby saw Kreacher in Diagon Alley, which Dobby thought was curious.” He then jumps onto the table as he continues. “And then Dobby heard Kreacher mention Harry Potter's name.”

“I just—” Kreacher tries to input as he follows Dobby down the table, while Harry and you follow beside them both from the floor, hearing what the elf had to explain with unwavered attention.

“And then Dobby saw Kreacher talking with the thief, Mundungus—”

“I’m no thief!” Said man cuts Dobby off. “You foul little—” he pauses to glance at Harry, seeming to grow obviously nervous and changing his next word. “Git. I’m a purveyor of rare and wondrous objects.”

Ron steps out from the hall and snaps at the man. “You’re a thief, Dung. Everyone knows it.”

“Master Weasley, So good to see you again.” Dobby directs to the boy before he goes to the girl beside him. “Clementine Zabini. Hello, friend.”

Said girl grins. “It’s been a long time.”

Dobby tilts his head and shakes it. “Dobby saw you just this past week.”

Clementine laughs and corrects herself. “It was a manner of speaking, Dobby. I was only playing with you.”

“Oh.”

“Listen!” Mundungus exclaims as he falls back into the old chair. “I panicked that night, all right? Could I help it if Mad-eye fell off his broom?”

“You,” Kreacher growls as he points to the man, his threat unheard as Harry speaks up about the locket, creating a more heightened curiosity within Mundungus, who gave an explanation, a messy one on that, but he gave it and ended up revealing a person of interest who almost took him to where he belonged.

“Who was she?” Harry insisted, “the witch. Do you know?”

Mundungus shakes his head. “No, I,” he stops and his eyes fall on the newspaper, widening once he catches something that makes him pick up the newspaper on the floor. “Well, she’s there. Look.” He throws the paper on the table and points to the pink woman. “Bleeding bow and all.”

Dolores Umbridge. Amazing.

——

“What’s the plan then?” Ron asks as he falls back on the couch. “Are we really going to Umbridge in the Ministry of Magic?”

Your eyes fall on him and then on the door, and you think of finally leaving, but Kreacher enters the drawing room with a picture in hand, his attention now towards you. “Kreacher has something that might interest, Master y/n.” He stops before you and hands you a single picture with a crease mark going down the glossy paper, and one scared across it. On the back it had a small note written on the paper in the same handwriting as the note, saying ‘To my friend Kreacher. Our little beginning. My family. R.A.B.’. You hesitate to turn the picture over, seeing the fragile paper tremble in your hand.

For a long minute you think of not turning it over to see who was captured in the moment, but your curiosity was eating at you, for your own sake you needed to see. And once you do, as your eyes fall on the captured moment, and you see the three people printed on the paper, your eyes finally begin to fill with tears that blur your vision. Your hold wasn’t even strong enough to keep the picture in your hand, because of the sharp stabbing pain aching your heart, it would have fallen if Harry wasn’t beside you to catch it.

Even then, even if it was only a moment, you were able to memorize the details of the portrait; the tall, young looking beautiful woman with an eye color like yours, with her hair neatly picked up, a bright smile that gave life to the already moving picture, and a love so clearly seen even if it was just a frozen moment. You memorized the thin young looking man, with his black hair that was nicely cut and kept, a smirk on his pink lips, a haughty look in his light colored eyes, and you, in his arms looking away from where the woman was pointing to, but with a big smile shot at her. All three of you were in some unknown green garden, both of them wearing dark expensive clothes, both happy; at least that’s what they expressed, even with the brand they bore on their arms. A brand that matches yours now.

“The woman,” Harry asked for you, “who is she, Kreacher?”

Kreacher's own eyes were unable to leave the picture now in Harry’s hand as he answered without bitterness in his tone. Instead with a hint of sadness. “Master, Harmony Lestrange. The mother to Master Y/N. She died just a week after Master Regulus.” He takes the picture from Harry and hands it back to you. “Kreacher wants you to have it now.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, but you were unable to keep your smile from showing. “No, you have it.” You push the picture back to Kreacher. “It was for you, it has your name on the back. If I ever want to see it again I’ll come visit you.” The elf nods and folds the picture to carefully tuck it in his pocket. “Thank you Kreacher. The picture was nice to see.” You sniffle and smirk. “It gave me motivation to do the right thing.” You stand up and face Harry, and the group. “I’m helping you three get that locket.”

Not just because the picture heightened your anger towards Narcissa and your father—Lucius…father, and made you improvise such a rebellious plan that could get you in deep trouble, but because destroying that locket was your biological fathers unfinished goal you wanted to complete once and for all. That you were going to complete.

“For…” you sigh and glance down at Kreacher with a smile on your lips. “my biological father. He wanted to destroy it, but he died before he could try. I want to do that for him now.”

Ron’s eyebrows pinched together and he opened his mouth to say your other reason, but Clementine caught him and cut him off. “I’ll join too then. I want to do the right thing.”

Harry smiles at you and Hermione stands up to ask, “okay, then do you have a plan?”

You smirk and nod. “Oh, I have a plan.”

.

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Tagged- @peter-laufeyson @swiftlymoniquesblog @spideyyypeter @gsvshsjsbs @accio-prozac @cherriesanwine @kokomaesadie @april-14-blog @prettypinkpeachh @pest-ill-ence @ilovespideyyy @m3ssytrash @hogwarts-babe @yodaboo @rafeyybabyy @itsoakaa @nonamesgame @weird-pale-blonde-person @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @lunanargles17 @narcissim-isky

[fanfictionwritingoddity]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙤𝙮’𝙨 𝙆𝙧𝙮𝙥𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚: 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙁𝙤𝙪𝙧

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7𝙠 𝐭𝐰: 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙟𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙮, 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙢𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮, 𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚, 𝙝𝙮𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙠𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙜𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 - 𝙝𝙪𝙙𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

 ( 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎!𝙾𝚒𝚔𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚃𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚞 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 )

You nervously tapped your pencil eraser against the top of your desk, ignoring the growing pit in your stomach. Matsukawa was never late. Not without texting you, that is. In all of your two years of friendship, he had always made sure to message you and make you aware when he wouldn’t be in or on time. He knew you had anxiety, and thus made sure to do all he could to keep you comfortable.

It was hard to resist the urge to glance at your phone screen, but somehow you managed. You knew that if Issei texted you, the screen would light up and a small ping would resound from your device. The ringing of the next class bell startled you, so much so that you actually dropped your phone. Your heart pounded in your chest as you attempted to simultaneously calm down and pick up the electronic.

Before you could reach it, a pale hand shot out, gently lifting it from the floor and setting it onto the desk. You blinked in surprise, trying to figure out who had helped you without seeming like some creep. When you heard the slight laughter, you jumped, quickly straightening your posture.

Oikawa was standing in front of you, his umber eyes flitting around the room in confusion. You wondered why he had arrived at your classroom, before remembering the bell. Ah, that’s right, it’s lunch time. He must have come here to see Matsukawa so they could walk together to lunch. Expression twisting into one of anxiety, you looked at the phone now sitting on your desk, realizing the screen was slightly cracked. There were still no notifications.

“Y/N, do you have any idea where Matsukawa is?”

You weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to hold it together, and opted to turn and pretend to search through your bag after shaking your head in denial. Tooru frowned, scratching the back of his neck a few times.

“Do you?”

There was a slight crack in your voice, your throat constricting uncomfortably when you spoke. 

“I might,” he muttered, looking off to the side in thought. You leapt up at this, grabbing the captain’s free hand and clasping it tightly.

“Is he alright? Did something happen?”

Oikawa’s heart sped up due to the proximity and the way your smaller hands squeezed around his. God, you were wonderful. But he couldn’t break the act just yet. Feigning deep thought, he took a few moments to answer, narrowing his eyes as the seconds passed.

“Well, last night he told me some things… I tried to check up on him but he wouldn’t answer any texts.”

One glance at your forlorn and let down expression was enough to make the setter aware of his victory.

“There’s a lot to explain, but I think I might know where he is. I’m going to be busy all day, so if you’d like, maybe wait for me and after practice I’ll walk you home and explain. Is that alright?”

Your nodding was so eager that Tooru couldn’t help the smile breaking onto his lips. It quickly fell when the reality of the situation weighed in on his mind; you were acting so eager to hear about a bastard who didn’t even deserve the time of day. Well, who hadn’t deserved the time of day. Luckily he wouldn’t be bothering you anymore. Your love made sure of it, of course.

The wait was tortuous. The entire day seemed to last for months, hours turning into days and minutes into hours. You had asked around, wondering if Issei had spoken to anyone besides Oikawa last night. The verdict was negative, even the Seijoh volleyball team didn’t know what was going on. It wasn’t like him to miss practice, much less without a warning or explanation.

The pit in your stomach eagerly grew with each passing class. By the time school was over and you were left to wait for practice to end, it weighed heavier than any burden you had ever shouldered alone. There had never been a reason for you to make friends besides Issei and Kaori, but Kaori was busy with club activities so you were unable to vent to her. When you explained the situation she had completely understood, shooing you away with promises to make an excuse for you.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t focus on your homework. A voice in the back of your mind was screaming that something was so terribly wrong. Had he gotten hurt? Did the girl he walked with do something to him? Or did he just end up staying over at her house? You never did get her name, so for all you know she could also be absent. It wouldn’t be out of character for Matsukawa to skip a day to help someone he cared about.

On days when you had been sick and your parents had been too busy to take care of you, Issei had pretended to be under the weather so he could sneak over to your house and help nurse you back to health. But even then, he would explain the situation to his teammates, and they would all cover for him. So, if that was the case now, why hadn’t he said anything? Why did he only tell Oikawa?

It just didn’t seem to add up. Matsukawa was closer to a few other guys on the team than he was to Tooru, so why was he the only one who knew what was going on?

Shaking your head, you patted your cheeks a few times to calm yourself down. You couldn’t let your overthinking get the best of you. Oikawa would never lie to you like that. He was a playboy, sure, and liked to flirt with literally everyone, but that didn’t make him someone who would hurt your best friend. Here you were again, letting your thoughts get away from you and become overpowered by anxiety.

While you were stuck in your own mind, struggling with your intuition and logic, volleyball practice had promptly wrapped up. When the sound of shouted calls and balls hitting the court ceased, you looked up from the question you had been staring at and noticed that most of the guys had made their way to the locker room to grab their bags. You stood up, eagerly stuffing the papers you hadn’t made any progress on into your bag as you almost tripped over your feet running down the staircase from the stands.

Oikawa was waiting for you at the bottom, one hand on his hip and the other slinging his volleyball bag over his shoulder. He watched you almost stumble down the steps, letting out a soft chuckle whilst you scampered over to him. Soft puffs of breath left your mouth and adrenaline coursed through your veins. You were finally going to find out what happened to Issei!

“Follow me, cutie.”

The rest of the team had already left, and since you were the last out it was your job to turn the lights off. The gym slowly dimmed, row after row of lights shutting off. Tooru started with the bright LED fixtures closest to you, flicking the light switches one by one. Eventually, he stopped, leaving one light on. This action confused you, so you drew your eyes away from the ceiling to his face, bewilderment written all over your countenance.

Tooru was tempted to turn every light off. Would you cling to him in fear? Would you scream? Or would you find comfort in the pitch black, while he broke the news about your ‘friend’.

No, as much as he wanted to, Oikawa knew it would be much more enjoyable and satisfying to see your face. He wanted to watch your expression crumble while pretty tears of disbelief gathered in the corners of those beautiful eyes. The setter wanted to see how you shook and trembled.

He wanted to see every single side of you.

“Y/N, Matsukawa… he’s…”

God, he hated the way you perked up when he uttered that stupid name.

“He’s dead.”

Your features immediately fell, eyelids fluttering open and shut as you tried to comprehend the words that just left Tooru’s mouth. Your mind raced at the speed of light, questions tumbling out of your mouth with a broken and unsettled tone.

“What do you mean? How do you- how do you even know? Is this some prank? Where the hell is Isse-”

Just as his name was about to leave your mouth, Oikawa covered your lips with his palm. There was a smoldering hatred in his eyes, one of pure malice and discontent. The look alone sent shivers down your spine, leaving your knees trembling as tears began to blur your vision. What was happening? Why was he doing this? You tried to make space between you, but eventually ran out of room as your back hit the hard wall.

“I know because I killed him myself. And you know I’m not one to half-ass something like that, right princess?”

The word betrayal was an understatement to the immense pain you felt. The tears that had been gathering in your glossy eyes spilled over, slipping down your cheeks and onto Tooru’s hand. You looked so adorable like this, he thought, your protests muffled as you weakly tried to shove him away.

“It’s not my fault, you’re the one who liked him in the first place. If you didn’t fall in love with him, he would still be alive now.”

This was… your fault?

“You know, I’ve liked you for two years. Every time I saw your adorable face in the stands at our games, I pushed myself past my limits in the hopes that it was me you came to see. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that you would show up in my little fanclub.”

The tremors shaking your body were so violent you were having trouble breathing. You were starting to hyperventilate. Desperately clawing at the hand covering your mouth, you tried your best to steady your hand enough to dig your nails in, but the attempt was to no avail.

“Imagine my pain when you told me you liked someone else. Let alone, someone so unworthy of your attention. That hurt like hell, doll.”

His tone was nothing but a growl as he pressed harder against your mouth, stifling your breath. The world around you began to fade to black, noir clouds creeping across your vision as your grip on his arms lessened. Eventually, you passed out, collapsing forward into Oikawa’s waiting arms.

“Hm, I guess you really are my kryptonite. Good thing I have you all to myself now, right?”

𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 :  @kray-dragon , @lagoonsmainacc , @steampunkhell

[chaninfused]

Danse Macabre | Lee Minho

◤“One must always polish a heart made of stone. Until one’s fingers hurt, and no more polishing cleavers remain usable. Until one grows tired of the weight of a stone heart.”

In an attempt to win his fiancée’s heart, a prince journeys across the desert, where lifelong secrets come unraveled and nothing is quite what it seems.

◤Disclaimers: Female reader insert. This story is inspired by Arabian mythology. Descriptive images of violence, killing, and blood are included, please be careful. This is fantasy, with a fair mix of fluff and angst. All places and events are fictional and do not reference real life nations. Find a glossary with all the terms used here. Make sure to read this blurb before proceeding to avoid heavy confusion. Also, view the map and the tale of the lost prince of Tajilmalek to gain a better understanding of this universe (optional, but strongly suggested!).

◤Word count: 26.6K

◤Note: This idea is a 100% mine and any case of similarity with someone else’s is purely coincidental. Events are pure fiction. Please do not take my content without my consent. masterlist.

◤Dedicated to my friends and readers. Thank you for bearing with me, I love you all. Happy reading!

١

"Big day tomorrow, eh?"

Minho looked up from the papers strewn over his desk to find his cousin leaning casually on the embellished wall, an unmistakable gleam of mischief bright in his foxlike eyes. He ignored the flutter erupting in his heart, it seemed to make an appearance whenever his wedding was mentioned, and smiled, "Indeed."

"Don't you find it strange?" Jeongin picked himself off the wall and sauntered toward the desk of dark wood when Minho frowned, "What?"

"Jisung was telling me about this earlier," the younger royal started, "Think of it; all Tallilmalekan princesses married to foreign princes bear no children. It's always a second wife or a concubine."

"Where is this conversation heading?" distaste distorted Minho's features. The nobleman's son, Jisung, had a mouth for spreading rumors and speculations. He wasn't sure why Jeongin continued to sit in his presence.

The latter slumped uncharacteristically on one of the desk's adjacent seats, crossing one leg over the other. "Possible conspiracy?" he shrugged. "It's not as though you don't find the family's stiff behavior odd. Apparently, they've always been like that. Cold, stone-faced, and haughty."

Minho rolled his eyes, "And?"

"And," Jeongin's lips stretched into a knowing smile, "there are rumors.

"I mean, how would you explain the reoccurring cases of princesses unable to conceive, or the peculiar, nonchalant behavior of Tallilmalekan royals? Y/n is not the first one to not smile upon her betrothed."

"What are you implying, Jeongin?" the crown prince sighed, having grown tired of the discussion already. His weariness only seemed to amuse his cousin, who lowered his voice and leaned forward as if he had a secret to whisper. "Well, people say that there is only one reasonable explanation."

Perhaps to add suspense, Jeongin paused, making Minho's brow arch questioningly. "Which is?"

"Jinn."

Silence draped over the two like a velvet curtain, heavy, as the word settled into the air. Demons. Jeongin — or Jisung — was accusing you and your family of dealing with demons.

A loud, ebullient laugh had to escape Minho's lips.

"This isn't funny!" Jeongin exclaimed between held back giggles. "Don't come crying to me when your wife turns out to be a Sahira of some sort!"

"I'd be damned then!" Minho cleared his throat after his laughter died out, shaking his head. You were reserved, some would say too reserved, but Jisung was going overboard by bringing Jinn into the picture. "I should ban Han Jisung from entering the palace, right?"

"Maybe." Jeongin scrunched his nose then stood up, regarding the uninteresting mounds of work before his cousin. He was once more reminded to thank the Aliha he wasn't born an heir to the throne.

"Well, I will be leaving you to your work." He clasped his hands and a brotherly smile found home on his lips, "And let me be the first to congratulate you, cousin. I hope this marriage brings you happiness. May the Aliha grant you their blessings."

Minho grinned, giddiness twinkling in his eyes, "Shukran. Will we see you with a ceremony of your own one day?"

"Hopefully not anytime soon," Jeongin joked before bowing his head lightly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Minho gave him an acknowledging nod but before Jeongin could turn and leave the study, the first scream shook the walls of the palace.

“What was that?” Jeongin’s eyes widened as a hand instinctively latched onto the hilt of his saif. Minho sprung from his seat, alarm wrinkling his forehead. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it isn’t good.”

The two royals rushed out of the study, finding several guards running across the corridor and shouting orders to each other. Joining them, Minho asked above the ruckus, “What is happening?”

“Unsure, your highness, but the scream of a monster was heard coming from the Amira’s chamber,” a guard responded, and the prince’s heart dropped. Your rooms. Whatever made that sound, it didn’t promise well.

Rounding a corner, Minho finally spotted the group of guards assigned to your chamber clustered together as one of them knocked on the door repeatedly. He wanted to claw his flesh out. If a beast of some sort had managed to slip into your room, you’d be long dead with these foolish guards waiting for permission to enter. Perhaps it was time to re-examine the royal force.

Sheathing his saif, Minho stormed through the group of men, catching them off guard when he swung the door open and barged in. Manners were to be ignored in a life-threatening situation.

His grip was steady, courtesy of his many years of rigorous sword training, as his gaze fell upon the back of a monster twice his size, red skin glistening in the faint moonlight.

The guards grew silent.

The creature seemed to have the build of a man — two arms, two legs, and a head — but it was far from one. Tied hair as black as the eyes of a gazelle cascaded down its back and a pair of ivory horns poked through its head. That was all Minho could make out from the beast giving him its back.

It stood still, which should’ve raised suspicious brows, but the only thoughts on Minho’s mind were getting rid of the creature and finding you safe and sound.

So, without a second thought, he brought his sword down across the beast’s back, slicing it in half as the nauseating sound of metal cutting through wet flesh filled the room. It made no noise of pain as it toppled to the ground, facedown, splattering blood on its way. It was as if its soul were gone and all the Amir did was tear the body down.

You stood on the other side, unharmed, and Minho’s heart lurched in relief before he noticed the dagger between your bloodied fingers. Concern paired with obvious confusion creased his forehead as he sheathed his saif and stepped around the lifeless body toward you. He could hear the guards’ whispers rise in volume and Jeongin shushing them all. What in the name of the Aliha did I just kill and how did it get here?

“Y/n,” he began, voice taking on a softer tone. Your appearance showed no signs of struggle. The circlet holding the silk that fell over your hair was perfectly placed and you looked...indifferent as you regarded him wordlessly. The fact that a monster was lying on the floor of your bedchamber seemed to bother you none.

Minho was at a loss for words. “What...” his gaze gravitated back to the creature before moving to you. “What just happened?”

•؏•

If Minho arrived a moment earlier, he would’ve seen something that would change the course of your life forever. You were silently bursting with relief, for he couldn’t see the gaping hole where the Ifrit’s heart would’ve been before you clawed it out with a single hand.

The dagger in your grip was still pulsing.

You’d let your fiancé claim the kill for now.

“What just happened?” You could see, behind the mask Minho wore, all his bewilderment. How could you explain this without drawing the entire kingdom’s attention? A lie brewed at the tip of your tongue and you opened your mouth to speak, “It’s-”

You were interrupted by a deep wail that seemed to come from the ground beneath you. It shook the walls, making the guards look around in fear, and your eyes widened. There’s more.

You felt them before they crashed into the room and you dropped the dagger, grabbing Minho’s arm instead and running toward the door. “Watch out!”

The last syllable had barely left your lips when five smaller Afarit broke through the ground, sending debris everywhere and making the guards shout in panic. You forced your way through the chaos. The Afarit must not see you whatsoever. You might’ve been able to take down one on your own, but you weren’t very sure about a group of them.

Fortunately, Minho sensed the urgency in your steps and his legs moved faster, becoming the one to guide you through the grand corridors.

A blast of fire missed your head by a breath, and you turned around to find an Ifrit close behind. Seems like one caught up anyway.

The flaming creature of fire was in its natural form, which only you could see, and it was heading toward the two of you at an alarming speed. Minho tugged at your hand, confused as to why you stopped.

When he dared to glance at the other end of the corridor, color drained from his face like a wash of water on ink. It was burning, guards were fleeing, and smoke was slowly spreading through the air. Creatures he didn’t know the name of were pouncing upon the walls, leaving bright flames behind. They didn’t attack — they looked like they were looking for someone.

Which you knew. They were looking for you, or to be precise, they were looking for something you obtained.

Minho turned to face you, frantic, “What are you doing? What is happening— what are they?!”

You avoided his question, keeping your eyes on the Ifrit invisible to him. “Give me your saif.”

“What? This is not the time—”

“Give me your saif or we’ll both die.”

This time, he gave in and handed you his sword, unease dancing on his brows. A surge of energy left your fingertips when they came in contact with the leathered hilt, binding and fusing into the saif.

To Minho, you appeared to be glaring at air, but you were waiting for the moment the Ifrit shifted forms to attack. Not that you couldn’t strike it in its real form, but you’d rather not expose your identity so soon.

Just as you expected, the form of pure fire sprouted discernible legs and arms, a horned head, and snarling teeth. You didn’t miss the noise of panic that came from the prince. You almost felt bad for him. He was supposed to have a peaceful night before the next day’s festivities, not have his palace attacked by Afarit.

More guards streamed into the corridor as you raised the saif, just in time to slice it across the Ifrit’s middle. Normal weapons don’t kill them, but one infused with Jinn powers did.

The Ifrit crumpled to the ground with a spasm and a howl of agony, and the sword glowed red with an energy only you could see.

You turned to Minho, handing him his sword back and disregarding the way his eyes seemed close to popping out. “There you go. You can kill with it now.”

He only stared at you, and you were sure it’d be funny to know what went on his mind at that moment. “K-Kill?”

“Yes, well,” you inhaled, looking at the Afarit that noticed the commotion and were rushing to join the party, “We’ve attracted everyone’s attention. There’s no point in running now.”

٢

Minho took three seconds to snap back into reality and fix his stance into something more appropriate for a skilled swordsman like himself. “Stay back!”

You did what you were told, not to raise suspicions, and stepped behind him. Bringing a hand to rest on your chest, you felt the large emerald hanging from a thin chain around your neck. The Zumurruda. This is what the Afarit were after, and you’d die fighting to keep it in your hands, in one piece.

You’d seen Minho in duels before, you trusted his skills. He was renown across the three kingdoms for one thing besides his looks, and it was his swordsmanship. Yet, you couldn’t help but worry. What if all went astray and you had to brandish claws and horns to get out alive?

The shriek of an Ifrit pulled you out of your thoughts. It seemed to be leading the other three toward the two of you, finally sensing the presence of the Zumurruda. The prince was quick to slash his sword through its chest, but this gave another Ifrit the chance to pounce on him. You couldn’t see Minho’s struggle to fight it off because you had a problem to deal with on your own.

While he was distracted, the remaining two Afarit decided to go for the Zumurruda. For you.

You looked around, hastily making sure no one was watching before stabbing a hand forward and watching your fingers grow into blackened, sharp claws. They plunged straight into the first Ifrit’s chest, now that you let your magic take over, and grasped its heart. You pulled it out unthinkingly, making blood vessels stretch and snap violently, spilling blood where the two of you stood. The beating heart in your clutch should’ve repulsed you, but you couldn’t quite feel anything in that state. Evil Jinn didn’t feel.

The other Ifrit didn’t seem to see what happened to its companion and lunged at you with a snarl. As one toppled to the ground lifelessly, you felt the heart transform into a small blade and prepared to bury it in the next Ifrit’s guts, ignoring the faint pulse of the makeshift weapon. You raised the dagger, claws gone, but didn’t get to use it when a flash of metal cut through the approaching monster and brought it down. Temporarily.

Jeongin’s familiar face came into your vision. Half of the young royal’s face was covered in blood, and his once fine attire had lost a sleeve to the flames. He asked with a heaving breath, “Are you okay?”

You eyed the Ifrit that began to stand back up, answering him dismissively, “I’m fine.”

You crouched, letting your dagger cut through the Ifrit’s throat and feeling a rush of energy flow from your fingers and through the blade into its body. Simply, to kill it.

“These things,” Jeongin paused to stare at the dead Afarit, “they don’t die. How did you—”

“What are they to begin with?” Minho’s question came through labored breaths and you turned your gaze in his direction, seeing him push a lifeless Ifrit off. You convinced yourself that the flutter of relief your heart made was for the Zumurruda.

The prince sheathed his bloodied sword, eyes trailing across the corridor littered with blood, Ifrit corpses, and injured soldiers before resting on your face, as if you were the answer to a riddle he’d longed to solve. His features trembled with distress. “What’s happening, y/n? Why are there monsters in the palace— What brought them here? What kind of sorcery is this?!”

A cohort of guards ran into the corridor, stopping short in sight of the monstrous creatures, dying fire, and blood. You could feel a different kind of tension permeate the air and you sighed, glancing at your fiancé then at his cousin. They deserve an explanation.

You gulped, lowering your voice just so the conversation remained between the three of you, “Do you believe in Jinn?”

•؏•

“So, let me get this straight,” Minho ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it as he tried to take in all what you’d explained. “Someone is sending these monsters called Afarit to obtain the emerald you have, and you can’t let them have it whatsoever. No one can know about this.”

“Na’am,” you nodded for the millionth time, bored. The three of you were now at the library. Jeongin had wiped the blood off his face with a wet cloth, but Minho didn’t seem to bother with the patch of red blooming on his shoulder as he bombarded you with questions.

You never thought this was going to be easy, but it was becoming tiresome.

“Then why...didn’t this attack happen in Tallilmalek? Why here?” Jeongin frowned and you suppressed a sigh. “Tallilmalek is protected by a spell that prevents supernatural creatures like Afarit or Jinn from sensing the Zumurruda’s presence. Now that it’s out of Tallilmalek, everyone can feel it, everyone wants it for themselves.”

“You know this,” the prince shook his head, “You know this... Why would you take the Zumurruda out of the kingdom? What’s so special about it that it attracts creatures from the fires of hell?”

“I didn’t know they would detect it so soon, I’ve arrived here two days ago. Besides, I need the Zumurruda with me,” you stated, dreading the following question.

A pause.

“Why?”

You fell silent. Why? To find the Sahira’s Heart and free myself from the Jinni in me. To break the damned curse that has been ruining my family’s life for the last century. “I need it to...” but you couldn’t tell the truth yet, could you? “I need to return it to where it really belongs. The Zumurruda is a gemstone of great magic. It can’t fall in the hands of bandits or Jinn because it will grant them a power they shouldn’t have. This is my only chance.”

Half the truth will do for now.

Minho slumped on a seat with an exasperated sigh. “But it was safe in Tallilmalek!”

“Safe from Sahara and Jinn but not from humans! What do you think people would do with a gemstone of unimaginable power?” You snapped and Jeongin’s eyes widened. He looked at Minho then at you and felt as though he shouldn’t be witnessing this argument.

“Does Tallilmalek know?”

“No! This is why I don’t have much time to return it.”

“And when were you planning to do this?”

“I don’t know, tomorrow, perhaps?”

“What? You can’t do that!”

“What do you suggest then? Stay here and let more monsters have their go—”

“Tomorrow’s our wedding day!”

Minho’s voice rang through the air, bouncing off the walls to slam into your face and make you inhale sharply. The wedding.

You didn’t forget, but it was the perfect chance for you to sneak out and find the Sahira’s Heart. An arranged marriage ceremony wasn’t going to stand in your way.

Minho had stood now, glaring before he realized what he’d done. His eyes widened and waters of panic rippled in them. “Asif, I didn’t mean to—”

You shook your head. An argument was the last thing you needed in your brittle, dry relationship and you turned around to exit the library, leaving a troubled prince behind.

Perhaps you were being selfish, but there was no place for giving in, not when you’d gotten this close to fixing everything. Fiancé or not, Minho could do nothing to stop you.

•؏•

“Your Highness!” a guard barged into the king’s study, where he was discussing the previous night’s strange attack with his only son. “I apologize, Your Highness, but we have an emergency!”

The king raised his gaze to look at the uneasy guard. “What is it?”

Minho regarded the man curiously. What could it be at this early hour, and on this day?

He’d woken up with memories of the argument he had with you at the library. The image of you walking out wordlessly seemed to taunt him whenever he let his thoughts stray, and a feeling of dread settled in his heart ever since.

The guard bowed then straightened his posture, inhaling deeply before letting the terrible news hail on the royals. “The Amira cannot be found in her bedchamber.”

٣

If you are reading this, one of two things must’ve happened. I’ve died and a guard managed to return my journal home, or I’ve managed to do what the rest couldn’t and find the Sahira’s Heart.

I’m writing this on the first evening of our journey, and I suppose this is where it starts: reaching Al Mamsha.

The Zumurruda is pulling me toward it, a thin strip of land crossing Al Shaqq in Darilmalek. According to previous journals, it is guarded by Zarqa’a Al Yamama, an all-knowing woman with sharp sight and intuition. I am unsure about the encounter, but I’ve read al Amir Jinyoung’s report on crossing Al Mamsha which states that the traveler will be given a riddle to solve. Three wrong guesses and one will be forever trapped in the waters of Al Shaqq. All the past princes who chose to follow the Zumurruda took this path, so it seems that there is no other option. We’ll see how it plays out.

Al Amir Chan of Tallilmalek.

You closed the journal with a sigh. One of two things happened for sure. Prince Chan, who would’ve been a distant cousin, died in a thunderstorm while crossing Arrimal Azzarqa’a. Few crewmen survived the shipwreck, but his body was never found. He, too, sought the Sahira’s Heart.

Perhaps this was the fate of those who wished to the lift the curse and live freely. All the princes who dared to dream failed in the end, and the Zumurruda returned to Tallilmalek along with a story of their short journeys.

Perhaps it was a threat. A warning to force your parents, siblings, and all who came before them into accepting a life where love only brought misery. A curse that did nothing but make them fear what their sentiments could do.

You were raised to suppress the demon in you, a Jinni of pure evil, just like how the former royals did. For once upon a time, the most powerful Sahira known to the Alliance cursed your family with demon kids who murdered their beloved ones in cold blood.

Mages from across the land tried to break the curse, but none succeeded.

The only solution was to not have loved ones. One must not love, smile, or allow the tiniest affection to seep into their heart. Mother, father, sister, brother, husband, wife, friend — it didn’t matter. One must always polish a heart made of stone.

Until one’s fingers hurt, and no more polishing cleavers remain useable. Until one grows tired of the weight of a stone heart.

The pounding of hooves caught your attention and you looked in the direction of the noise, spotting a royal regiment cutting through the town. Leading them, you were quick to note, was the crown prince, Minho, your unfortunate fiancé.

Right, they would’ve noticed your disappearance by now.

Slipping out of the palace was easy, considering that the walls weren’t enchanted to repel Jinni powers like those back in Tallilmalek. You were gone by sunrise.

You felt the whisper of the Zumurruda, a foreign urge to travel east, and pulled your hood lower. The sooner you left the crown city, the sooner you’ll be able to use your powers freely.

As you made your way through the crowded streets of the city, you heard a shout coming from the soldiers, an order to put the city on lockdown. No one leaves. No one enters.

They’re taking the search seriously, you thought with a grimace. That would make things harder. You didn’t blame them, however. Relations between the kingdoms of the Arshilmalek Alliance had become shaky in the past years. A lost princess was a reason valid enough for Tallilmalek to wage war. A younger kingdom like Darilmalek would not survive.

You could almost sympathize with Minho. He seemed to truly care about the engagement, had always seemed to, yet you couldn’t show the smallest regard. For his safety, more than anything else.

He was another reason you wanted to break the curse.

Your steps quickened, hoping to reach the city’s borders before the guards did, but also trying to raise no suspicions. For a fleeting moment, you considered using your powers, but that thought was quickly thrown out of the window. There were too many witnesses. The last thing you’d want is to get accused of practicing forbidden magic and recreating the tale of the Lost Prince.

You could see the barren sahra’a ahead, just a few houses far, and hope blossomed in your heart. There it is, just an arm’s length away.

Then a shout accompanied by the terrible sound of hooves pounding the ground filled your ears and people began to clear the road in a panicked rush. You found yourself roughly shoved and uncomfortably squeezed between the people who moved to make way for the group of guards on horseback. You could barely move through them, and just like that, your chance slipped away right in front of you.

They’d reached the borders.

You muttered a curse under your breath and made your way through the people rather aggressively, earning a few strange looks that didn’t concern you. When you neared the set of guards, who were immersed in discussion, you pretended to be a foreign traveler and wandered off to the other, emptier side of the border.

Your first few steps went unnoticed, but soon enough, you heard a familiar voice command, “Qif!”

Too familiar. You halted but refused to turn around. The odds were all against you, you came to conclude when Minho arrived at your side, pulling the reins of his horse.

“You are not allowed to leave the city,” he said in a tone you never heard him use before, one that seemed to say my word is law.

You didn’t move or respond, which prompted the prince to speak once more, “Show your face. State your name, tribe, and your business leaving the city at this time.”

You bit your lip, although it couldn’t be seen under the shade of your hood, and thought to yourself, why did I not work on my disguise earlier today?

You wanted to slap yourself for being so foolish. Perhaps you were too...excited.

No guards joined the two of you, and after a few beats of silence, you decided to run for it. You might not be able to outrun a trained warhorse, but that would force Minho away from the rest, giving you a better chance at reasoning with him.

So, you did. You picked up your skirts and ran as fast as you could, past a startled prince and into the endless sahra’a. You heard Minho shout behind you, followed by a neigh of a horse, and you knew they were following you.

Running on sand was hard, and you were sure you were going to trip at some point. Although your lungs burned with each breath, you kept pushing yourself forward. Perhaps you weren’t made for such physical activity, you thought.

It felt like forever until Minho caught up to you — you guessed you had your powers to thank for that. His saif glinted under the harsh sun, and you were lucky to stop a few inches from the edge of the blade aimed at your neck. A chilling warning fell on your ears. “One more step, and I’ll chop your head off.”

You inhaled, waiting for someone to follow and letting your heart relax before shaking your head with a breath of a chuckle. “Chop my head off, eh?”

You didn’t see the way Minho’s grip stiffened, but you didn’t need to. You knew he recognized your voice.

Stepping away from the blade, you raised a hand to push your hood back and meet his surprised gaze. “I’d like to see you try.”

•؏•

Minho knew he’d made a terrible mistake when you were nowhere to be found in the palace. He thought it was his fault, and reasonably, he led the search the king ordered.

Although he hated to admit it, maybe the wedding wasn’t at all important in comparison to your mission. If you could prioritize it over an event that had been in planning for months, he could do the same.

After all, all the prince wanted was to show you that he cared. Just another meager attempt to try and make you dislike him less.

So, it seemed to be a complete strike of luck when you pushed off your hood to hold his gaze firmly. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I— La, I wouldn’t—” Minho stammered, quickly retracting his blade and dismounting the horse. He came to stand before you, silent as his gaze roamed over your features. Truth to be said, the prince didn’t know what he’d do if any harm befell you. When the guard shared the dismaying news, his heart dropped once more.

You seemed to like giving him a scare.

It was a relief to find you safe and unscathed, but unease still nagged at his chest. With an exhale, he muttered, “Asif. Forgive me.”

Your expression didn’t change, and he didn’t know what to take it as so he continued, “I realize now that the Zumurruda must be of high importance, considering that you were ready to escape the city to return it.

“I-I suppose the wedding ceremony pales in comparison,” he concluded and considered rambling on had you not nodded with a quiet exhale, “I apologize, as well.”

Oh? His brows shot up.

“It was selfish of me to disregard everyone’s work for my personal endeavors. But I hope you know that I cannot wait any longer now that the attack happened.”

“Of course—”

The prince was interrupted by a shout of his name, coming from an approaching figure behind you. “Minho!”

Not a guard, he remarked, noting the informality. Only then did he notice how far the two of you were from the city. He could see it, but it was a fair distance away.

You were a fast runner, he mused.

“There you are!” Jeongin’s voice became more discernible as he neared. “Someone saw you running off after a traveler. You were taking long.”

The younger royal didn’t notice you, almost trampling you over when he pulled the reins of his horse. He didn’t seem to notice Minho’s glare either. “Some claim that they spotted the Amira somewhere along the center of the city— What’s with the glare?” he frowned in confusion and looked around, finally spotting you, arms crossed and brow raised. You could practically hear his thoughts as his eyes expanded. “Oh.”

“Oh!” he repeated, this time surer, and lowered his head in embarrassment, realizing what he’d almost done. “My deepest apologies, y/n. I didn’t see you there.”

You bit back a retort and moved your head in the merest nod, “All’s fine.”

“You have to be more careful,” Minho tutted and Jeongin chewed on his bottom lip sheepishly, “Na’am.” His gaze ricocheted between the two of you before lighting up, “I suppose I should tell the soldiers to stop the search, then?”

“La,” the prince raised a hand, making his cousin look at him strangely, and turned to face you. You rarely showed interest in anything. The Zumurruda was something new. Perhaps this was his chance to improve things between the two of you. By taking interest in what mattered to you and joining you on this journey, he might be able to step a little closer to your heart. Or so he thought.

He might’ve anticipated the wedding, but he wanted to help you return the Zumurruda to where it belonged. “Let me join you.”

“What?” the question came from you and Jeongin, although he was a little louder with it. Minho only gave you a small smile, “I want to help you deliver the Zumurruda, if you’d allow me.”

You were careful not to gape at him. What changed over a night? You couldn’t help but ask, mindlessly, “But…what about the wedding?”

“If you can put other things before it, then so can I. The Zumurruda is more important, no?” a part of Minho was bursting with happiness. This is the most the two of you have talked away from the eyes of the court, without unnecessary formalities and stiff words. What seemed like a nightmare in a suit of flame was turning to be a blessing in disguise.

You nodded slowly, “You’re right.” You’d be lying to say you didn’t like the sound of Minho’s request. The princes that took this journey before you had all traveled with scouts, you didn’t expect to have the smoothest adventure alone.

Minho’s heart seemed to hammer in his chest as you thought over his suggestion. It wasn’t a decision he made in the spur of the moment – it was rather something he’d been contemplating all morning. There was no guarantee you’d agree, and he wouldn’t object if that were your choice, but he prayed to the Aliha for the opposite response.

He hoped he didn’t look too giddy when you finally made up your mind, letting out a breath as if the decision were a task that had worn you out. “I suppose I would appreciate some company along the way.”

A genuine smile broke on the prince’s face, and he looked at his cousin, “You have to come with us as well.”

“What– why?” the younger male did a terrible job of hiding his astonishment, but that didn’t seem to affect Minho. “I’m sure we need as many people on this journey as possible. Besides, I can’t have you returning to the palace now that you know about this ordeal.

Jeongin sighed, with undertones of a groan, “So, I have no choice.”

“Somewhat.”

You watched the two, slightly amused, before clearing your throat, “It’s the three of us, then?”

“Yes,” Minho nodded firmly then clasped his hands, “Where are we heading?”

You guessed if a citizen of the crown city looked far enough, they’d spot the three of you gathered in the middle of the desert and think it was an oddity of the current times. Silly or not, you began explaining the details of your journey. The details you knew of, that is, excluding the parts about the Sahira’s Heart and the curse. “We will be following the Zumurruda.”

“The gemstone makes its bearer feel a pull toward its home. No one has managed to reach it yet, but some have been remarkably close,” you pulled out the Zumurruda from beneath your tunic, laying it on your open palm for them to see. “As of now, it’s telling me to travel east, toward Al Mamsha.”

“Then east we shall go,” Minho announced. “Do we have all we need?”

“Do you have money with you?” you remembered to grab a heavy pouch of coins before escaping the palace, you wouldn’t need more with your powers anyway. Now that you had two more people with you, the money might not be enough.

“We do,” the Amir glanced at Jeongin, as if to make sure. “But is that all?”

“It should be enough. It’s better to travel light and stay the night in villages along the way.”

Your answer didn’t seem to convince the two, and you added with an awkward cough, “Either way, we cannot return to the palace to bring tents and food without raising questions. No one can know about this.”

Even if Minho wanted to let his hesitancy take over, you were the one who knew the most about the journey, not him. If you’d left the palace with the merest belongings for the trip, he would trust to do the same.

A beat of silence allowed your words to sink in the sand. That’s when Minho realized the kind of adventure he was sauntering into. Unpredictable. Perilous. Secret. Something that would challenge the very skills he’d spent all his years honing. It would either make him or break him.

He was oddly excited.

“We should get going, then. Day is only too long.”

You didn’t respond — you didn’t have to. The hood now pulled over your head was enough to say, “follow me,” and Minho thought he’d imagined the ghost of a smile on your lips.

•؏•

You began seeing the shimmering blue of Al Shaqq when the sun became hazy and low. The trip was exhausting at best, in the blazing heat and the dry air, and you quickly sympathized with the many messengers and trade caravans cutting through these sands for a living. You were beyond relieved when the thin strip of land became visible.

Although, if you thought you were tired, you couldn’t imagine the tiredness Minho was going through. Before you began your trek, he offered you his horse to ride and he continued on foot from there. Sometimes, he’d switch places with Jeongin, never for too long, however, and never with you. You supposed it was only expected. He was a prince, after all, and what was a prince without shining manners?

That didn’t stop you from offering your place repeatedly.

The three of you stopped at a small village some hours prior to satisfy your hunger and buy any necessities for what’s left of the journey. You were grateful no one outside the crown city recognized royals without their grand escorts.

This allowed Minho and Jeongin to trade their rich silks for less distinctive and more appropriate attire, as well as an additional handful of coins and two camels in exchange for their fine breed stallions with the promise to return them.

No one asked when you loaded your small caravan with food and water and resumed trudging through the golden grains.

Along the way, you’d explained to the two Darilmalekan royals why you decided to go on this journey without your family knowing. The repetitive pattern of princes trying to find the Sahira’s Heart wasn’t a coincidence. Only princes seemed strong enough to handle such a task and your parents would never let you, a princess, dirty your delicate hands with such an atrocious feat.

You’d explored your Jinni powers enough to know you wouldn’t have to dirty your hands, at least not until they became clawed and monster-like. And in that case, it would be your assailant’s concern, not yours.

Al Mamsha was a curious strip of land, one cursed with many legends by heat-struck travelers. It stretched across a rip in the desert filled with seawater, as though it were a bridge to the mountainous province of Darilmalek. Not many villagers settled nearby, as there was no use to be made of seawater and a land haunted by myths.

Only few dared to cross Al Mamsha. Only those few knew what really inhabited that piece of land.

You were about to become one of them, but you knew what, or who, guarded Al Mamsha. And you dreaded your meeting.

“Is that it?” Jeongin squinted at the enormous body of water before you. It was almost intimidating. It didn’t look this big on the maps.

On the dune where you observed, you could see the sandy line called Al Mamsha. It was empty, to your surprise. Your answer came coarse with nervousness, “Yes.”

“Should we cross it?” Minho seemed dubious, almost afraid when he asked, and you gulped. You will cross it, just like Chan and the other princes did before you. “The Zumurruda is urging us forward.”

Yet none of you moved for some moments of quiet anxiousness. Al Shaqq looked unreal, and its infamous Al Mamsha only reminded you of the many wonders you were yet to see, the many giants you were insignificant in comparison to.

Glancing west, Minho exhaled and patted the neck of the camel that carried you, “We must continue.”

But even the animal’s steps seemed reluctant.

As the three of you approached Al Mamsha, you kept an eye out for something to appear and stop you from advancing on to the sandy road. There was nothing but a clear, lifeless path, and you continued forward.

The camels halted to a stop at the mouth of Al Mamsha, making you frown in confusion as you patted the animal, “Why did you stop?”

It didn’t answer you, but your answer came from beneath the sand.

You wouldn’t believe it if you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes. A woman emerged from the sand, fair and young, dressed in a fine white kaftan with a matching turban crowning her head. Perhaps what stunned you the most was the bright, striking blue of her eyes, a shade you’ve only seen in sketches of her. Her aura was eerie, and she was looking right at you.

When she spoke, her voice seemed to come from the depths of the earth. “You shall not pass.”

You weren’t afraid, but rather in mute awe. This was her. This was—

“Zarqa’a Al Yamama,” you breathed, ignoring the petrified stares Minho and Jeongin were giving you and making the woman shake her head solemnly. “That would be my great grandmother. I am Lia, the Guardian of Al Mamsha.”

Strange, that was not mentioned in the journals. You cleared your throat, pushing your thoughts back. “Pardon me, Sayeda Lia, but we need to move forward.”

She did not miss a beat. “You shall not pass.”

The prince then swallowed his shock and stepped forward, finding his best regal voice, “As the Crown Prince of Darilmalek, I ask of you to grant us passage.”

“You shall not pass.” Lia did not spare him a glance, her crystal blue eyes fixed on you.

You saw Minho’s hand reach for the hilt of his saif from your peripheral vision and you asked again with urgency, “Please. Is there anything we can give you in exchange for our clear passage?”

“I need not your mortal gifts.” Her voice boomed around you, despite being in the open, wide sahra’a.

At that, Minho grabbed his sword and you held your breath, waiting for those words to fall out of her dainty lips like in every journal.

Lia crossed her arms, and her eyes blazed like blue flames. “You shall only pass if you solve my riddle.”

There is it, you hoped your satisfaction didn’t take form on your face. “We will solve your riddle.”

Beyond what you thought was possible, her eyes glowed brighter, almost white in their brilliance. You had to squint and look away.

For a short while, there was silence, then her words came out grim and haunting, “Solve my riddle and you shall pass. Fail thrice and you shall perish.”

You held your breath, rummaging through all the riddles you’ve read or heard and kept for this critical moment.

“I can only be kept once I have been given. What am I?”

You haven’t heard that one before.

Inhaling stilly, you turned your head to look at Minho, meeting his worried gaze just as it fell on you. He rubbed the camel’s neck, making it sit for you to dismount.

Off the mammal’s back, you swallowed a lump of anxiousness and asked, “Any ideas?”

The prince shook his head and his cousin mimicked, finally dismounting to stand with the two of you. It seemed as though they were too afraid to speak.

Your gaze wandered to the sand beneath you as a whirlwind of thought took over your mind. Something that can only be kept if given…but that’s contradictive!

The paradox helped you rule out all material things, since things like coin cannot be kept after being given away. That left all things abstract — emotions, thoughts, bonds.  

“Give…” you muttered then a guess sparked in your mind and you blurted, “Kindness?”

Lia frowned, and you could’ve sworn the ground trembled. “Incorrect.”

Foolish move, you scolded yourself mentally and avoided the concerned looks coming from the Darilmalekan royals. Think, y/n!

Something to be kept. Something to keep…keep your…keep my— your eyes widened when it struck you. It only makes sense!

“I think…I think I know the answer,” you whispered, and Minho questioned carefully, “What is it?”

Jeongin stepped closer and you made sure to keep your voice low. “One’s word.”

You knew you were right when realization lightened their expressions. An encouraging look from your fiancé made you step forward and speak, this time confidently. “The answer is one’s word. One can only keep their word once they’ve given it.”

When the blue-eyed woman remained silent, you waited for the ground to rumble and her to declare your second failure. Yet, nothing happened.

Lia nodded after several moments of silence, and you thought you imagined her subtle smile, “Very well. You have succeeded and therefor, you shall pass. But be warned, brave travelers, for the journey ahead is perilous, and the Isle of the Damned is no place for those of weak will.”

“Shukran.” You didn’t try to hide your relief, turning to mount your ride before she spoke again, “Your animals cannot move any farther into the Isle of the Damned. You are to travel on foot.”

You didn’t question her, recalling a statement you’ve read in a journal some months ago. The Sahira’s Heart left corruption in its wake, breathed chaos into its air, and spread malice in the land it rested in. Animals from the pure land will never venture near.

“Without them we travel, then,” you adjusted the clasp of your cloak as Minho shook his head, “We can’t leave them behind. We promised to return them.”

“Worry not, ya Amir, the animals will return on their own,” Lia informed. “Go on, travelers, before night awakens the beast resting in Al Shaqq.”

The beast resting in Al Shaqq. Many legends were told about the unnatural body of water, most known was the myth of the Falak, the great serpent that carries the world. It has been said that its child sleeps at the bottom of Al Shaqq. Any travelers crossing Al Mamsha at night would be its next live toy. Although, no travelers have dared to approach that land during the night yet.

You didn’t want to be the first.

A wordless exchange of glances darted between the three of you, and with a long exhale, you took your first step unto Al Mamsha.

•؏•

“This is absolutely preposterous!” the Tallilmalekan Crown Prince threw his arms in the air, frustrated. Changbin had been enjoying a Finjan of coffee when he overheard the news of your disappearance from a pair of oblivious guards, and it riled up the Jinni in him instantly.

Your brother stormed into the Darilmalekan King’s study, forcing the panicked advisors to leave when they noticed the frown etched on his handsome face. But before he could voice out his anger, a guard barged in, carrying news of Minho’s and Jeongin’s disappearance as well.

It made perfect sense in his mind. The had prince taken you and run away.

Changbin disliked your fiancé, but now, he seethed with aversion toward him.

“I am sure you know what this means for both kingdoms,” he said through gritted teeth. This marriage was your parents’ last hope at mending the deteriorating ties between Darilmalek and Tallilmalek. It seemed like Minho had other plans, however.

“If they are not found soon, I am afraid Darilmalek’s end would be two hundred years of independence.”

The king stood from his seat abruptly, recognizing the threat but being unable to acknowledge it. The fate of his people’s freedom relied on his meager words, and his hands were tied on the matter. The old king kept his tone firm and regal, “I trust my son, and I am sure no harm will befall the Amira with him. He will return, or we will find them.”

Changbin wanted to scoff but he settled with muttering spitefully before exiting the study. “Well, I don’t trust him.”

When he left, the king fell back on his chair, helpless. Oh, ya waladi, what have you done?

•؏•

They call it the Isle of the Damned, yet I believe it is unfair to the villagers settled between its mountains and dunes. We have crossed Al Mamsha and spared an hour of sunlight to find a place and raise camp for the night.

To my utter surprise, we found an unmarked village a little over an hour’s walk away. Its villagers offered to house us in their homes and serve us dinner. Such is the fine hospitality of the people of these sandy lands.

When the sun rises, we will be continuing east. I am unsure of the journey’s path after this step. No surviving journals clearly state where the Zumurruda leads after Al Mamsha.

Nevertheless, some speculate we are heading toward—

You quickly shut the journal when you heard a rustle from the other side of the partition. It was almost as though you were performing a play and Chan’s journal was the script. You crossed Al Mamsha safely and found a small village not too far away. Seeing that the three of you were travelers, the villagers welcomed you into their homes unhesitatingly. They sat you for a hearty feast then showed you to a place they’d prepared.

Their generosity wasn’t surprising. The three kingdoms maintained strict traditions in hospitality, no matter the guest’s origins or story. This was your first time experiencing it firsthand.

A partition was placed for your comfort between your bed and Minho’s and Jeongin’s beds. It was helpful when you wanted to read without them asking questions, but you could never be too carefree.

The rustling stopped, and you thought it simply was one of them shifting in bed before a faint sound caught your attention. “Y/n?”

You held your breath. Why is he not asleep?

For a couple of beats, you said nothing, thinking that if you remained silent, the prince would return to sleep and you to reading in the dark — one of the gifts you were born with. Perhaps it was guilt that made you finally whisper back, you owed him at least that. “Yes?”

“Oh…you’re still awake.” he was muttering, but you were sure you heard a hint of relief in his words. Hope. You couldn’t pinpoint the reason, but it made your heart clench uncomfortably.

There was silence again before he murmured, sounding almost defeated, “You should try to sleep.”

“You should, too,” you said after hesitating. “Who knows what awaits us tomorrow.”

Minho hummed then, and with a few rustles, he said nothing more. You assumed he’d fallen asleep.

A silent sigh left your lips and you looked at the journal between your hands. What am I doing?

This journey was one you’d wanted to take for a while. You’d barely begun, but unease was quickly creeping into your heart.

If this were a play and you were following a script, would it end with the same tragedy that befell Chan and the many princes before him? Were you only inching closer to your doom?

La. You forced the voice in your head silent and tucked the journal away. You were not going to fail because you had one thing these princes were too scared to use. You had a Jinni inside you, and you were not afraid to use your powers when needed.

This journey will not end up in failure.

Finally lying down, you let your eyelids drop, exhaustion taking over easily. But just when you were ready to surrender to sleep, another sound startled you awake. Not a whisper or a rustle of sheets, but the unmistakable unsheathing of a sword.

٤

Hyunjin could feel it in his bones. He could smell it in the air, that sickeningly sweet scent of power. The Zumurruda was close.

He’d been alerted a few days ago when the Isle breathed with life once more. Someone had taken the Zumurruda out of Tallilmalek, again.

This time, he was getting his hands on it.

Finding the bearers of the gemstone wasn’t hard. They didn’t travel with an enormous escort like those ridiculous princes. Just that mere trio of them, with little baggage and a mysterious aura.

One of them caught his attention. A young lady whom his spies of Afarit reported to have a strange energy surrounding her. He’d assumed it was a spell of protection casted on her by a relative’s request, or that she was a magic meddler. Only now, as he stood in a room of sleeping people, did he realize what that restless energy was.

Jinn.

She was half Jinni, and her companions knew no better.

She carried the Zumurruda.

What a short, sad tale, he wanted to chuckle as he unsheathed his sword and prepared to strike her sleeping figure.

What he didn’t prepare for, however, was for her to spring up at the sound and shout, “Qif!”

This successfully awakened the rest and before Hyunjin could react, the edge of a saif was pressed under his chin.

“How did you get in here?”

A male’s voice, but it sounded nothing like a sleeping man’s. A terrible realization dawned on him. None of them were asleep.

Did she feel his presence like he felt hers? Was he walking right into a trap?

La, Hyunjin was far too powerful a Sahir to fall into mundane traps.

“You shouldn’t be asking me this question,” he answered and tossed his saif to the ground. There will be no need for it anymore.

In the dark, he could see her expression change as realization dawned on her too. A faint smirk drew itself on his lips when she whispered urgently, “Be careful. He’s a Sahir.”

“Be careful indeed,” he mused, “Spill a single droplet of my blood and your family shall be damned for eternity.”

“What brought you here?” even if he had understood the warning, the young man did not retract his sword.

Hyunjin could see things a regular human couldn’t see, and he could clearly make out his assailant’s features. Sharp yet dainty and undeniably handsome. He could pass as an Amir. Once upon a time, he would’ve been someone Hyunjin rivaled against.

The Sahir shrugged. “I’m here for the Zumurruda.”

A hush of silence befell the room and Hyunjin knew they knew.

When the young lady spoke, the red aura around her shook angrily. “We do not have what you seek.”

“Is that so?” he raised a brow. “That’s odd because I–”

“Kafa! You will leave or I’ll cut you down where you stand,” the young man holding the saif threatened. Hyunjin wanted to laugh. “And risk centuries of bad luck and misery on you and those who succeed you? You’re one brave young man.”

“We don’t have the Zumurruda,” the girl repeated, this time with more emphasis, “but we know where to find it.”

At this, the two other individuals in the room seemed taken aback. The saif even lowered a little bit.

Foolish humans, Hyunjin mocked inwardly. That was a lie and he knew it. “Oh, really?”

“Na’am.”

He would play along, that was more fun.

“Then take me to it.”

He saw how her pupils trembled. She felt something, he was sure. She knew that he spotted the lie, but she continued with it. Foolish, foolish human.

“You can join us.” Her proposal was met with a sound of protest from the back of the room, but it was not acknowledged. “Whatever your intentions are for seeking the Zumurruda, we can settle them when we find it.”

“But, y–”

Perhaps it was for his personal entertainment did Hyunjin agree. The young man’s almost-objection was a bonus. “I’ll join you.”

•؏•

“Dead? All six of them?!” The man glared at his subordinates angrily. A lord of thieves like him shouldn’t be facing such adversities, he believed, yet his good for nothing underlings couldn’t even retrieve a simple gemstone.

He let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes, “I shouldn’t be surprised. If one wants anything done around here, one must do it themselves.”

He reached for the lower compartment in his desk and pulled out a book as old as the world. A cloud of dust rose in the air when he placed it on the surface before him. “This one’s tough, huh?”

“Very much, sir–”

“What are you two imbeciles doing still standing here? Move!” his outburst made his two henchmen scurry out of the study, barely avoiding tripping over their own feet on their way.

He rolled his eyes after them for the nth time, wondering why he couldn’t find better minions. Right, these two idiots are the only ones who remained alive.

Flipping through the worn-out pages of the book, his eyes scanned the titles until he found what he needed. “There.”

His lips stretched into an ugly grin as he read over the lines of the summoning spell. “You might’ve been able to defeat the Afarit, but let’s see how well you can handle this one, bearer of the Zumurruda.”

•؏•

“Well, then, I’ll see the three of you by sunrise,” the strange Sahir remarked and before you could say anything, strong wind broke through your temporary home. You turned your face away from the harsh winds but when you looked back up, he was gone. As though he never stood there.

What...was that?

“What just happened?” you heard Jeongin whisper-exclaim and you reached up for the nearby mishkah, lighting it up and watching as its brilliance washed over the room.

You had no idea yourself.

“I don’t know.”

“Y/n— were you not in your right mind? How can you offer to let a stranger, and a dangerous one at that, accompany us?” Minho was baffled, to say the least. Didn’t you say this journey was extremely dangerous and secretive? When did you start letting strangers unto your plans?

The partition that stood in between hid the distressed look on your face. How would you explain it to them? That stranger had a bizarre aura, something was off with him. Too much power, something similar to the energy that radiates off your siblings and off you. Something not entirely human.

“He’s dangerous, Minho,” you resorted to saying, failing to realize how his name rolled off your tongue easily, almost naturally. “He knows we have the Zumurruda. Sharing it is the only solution that doesn’t include bloodshed or eternal damnation.”

“But you can’t trust him, can you? Can we?”

“That’s why we have you.”

Perhaps it was exhaustion that made you say something so…unguarded. For a fleeting moment, the real you peeked at the world. No Jinn to be concerned with, no curses, just what you really wished to say.

You knew you appeared to dislike the prince, it was a façade made to fool your Jinni half. You tried to ingrain that in your mind through your actions and speech, everything you did was planned and calculated to keep the monster at bay.

But some rare times, the closed off bit of your heart would speak. You didn’t trust the Sahir, but you trusted Minho. That would be enough.

When you received no response, you lay back down, clutching the Zumurruda as you murmured goodnight. You’d rather not hear an answer to that.

On the other side of the partition, Jeongin looked at his cousin with a raised brow. This is new.

If he knew no better, he’d assume the prince had forgotten how to speak. The saif in his hand hung limply at his side as he stared at the makeshift wall made of palm tree fronds. An unexplainable expression illuminated his features.

What did you mean? He didn’t want to believe what his mind told him. Why would he give himself such hope?

Sighing, he shook his head and dropped his sword on the side of the bed. It was too late in the night and his thoughts had been strained enough. “Goodnight, Jeongin.”

“Goodnight.” The younger royal continued to watch him, curious but also sympathetic. In a way, he didn’t understand the manner in which his cousin thought; why he kept trying to make you see him as someone other than an unlikable betrothed. But in another way, he understood completely.

Minho loved you, and it was something almost magical. No matter what you did, the feelings he’d garnered over the years only burned brighter. And although Jeongin complained about how hopeless your case was, he was almost sorry for the prince.

Hundreds were ready to dedicate their lives for him, yet the only life he cared about was one with you.

•؏•

The sun brought a new day with it despite your weary limbs’ complaints. You rose with an unusual sense of unease in your heart. You dreaded what this day held for you.

The Sahir was indeed there when the sun rose, looking as though he didn’t plan an ambush at the dead of night. He introduced himself as Hyunjin, and you ignored the uncanny familiarity of the name.

That morning, the Zumurruda’s pull directed you south, away from the mountains. It came as a surprise, considering that in Chan’s journal, he mentioned moving east. You don’t remember reading about the Zumurruda changing routes…

“Do we know where we’re heading?” you felt his presence before you heard his voice, dark, corrupt. It made all your senses perk up.

Hyunjin fell in step beside you, and you didn’t have to steal a glance at Minho to know that a scowl was beginning to form on his face. The three of you were walking side by side while the Sahir trailed a few steps behind. What made him join, you guessed, was to bother you.

The orb of light in the sky was lathering the golden grains of sand with formidable heat, and the blows of wind were doing very little to help any of you cool off. You were not in a state to be bothered.

“Shamal.” Your response should’ve showed that you didn’t want to talk, but it seemed that Hyunjin couldn’t take the hint. “Yes, but to where? We can’t just be traveling south blindly.”

“To a place, that’s for sure.” You let out an exasperated breath.

“Your vagueness is quite–”

“You should learn to understand people’s tones,” Minho cut him off, sounding uncharacteristically hostile, not unreasonably though.

“Ah, it’s the angry saif man,” a sickeningly sweet smile drew itself on Hyunjin’s lips. “I haven’t forgiven you yet for threatening to kill me.”

The Amir only glared in response and you began to regret the moment you offered to let the Sahir join you on this trek.

“It honestly baffles me. What is someone like you doing with them?” he reminded you of some ladies at court. Those who only yapped gossip and rumors. Maybe you should’ve let Minho kill him when he had the chance.

Your silence only prompted him to continue, enjoying the way his words made the energy around you crackle angrily. “Really, what need do you have of two common swordsmen? Are they guards of some sort? Or are you perhaps…” his gaze traveled between the three of you before a knowing smirk made an appearance, “Ah, I see now.”

At that point, you were sure he was purposely riling you up. Stopping short, you turned to glare at him and for a blink, his eyes glowed red. You thought you’d imagined the face of the Devil in his, a terrifying sneer and evil eyes.

Hallucinations, you pushed your worrying thoughts back. “I don’t appreciate you speaking that way– What in the…” you trailed away when a shadow fell over the four of you, blocking out sunlight completely. Even Hyunjin grew silent.

Daring to look up, you were met with the silhouette of an enormous bird, circling over you like a predator.

“Um...what is that?”

You were too scared to answer Jeongin’s question, you weren’t even sure you wanted to know the answer. “I-I don’t know but it doesn’t—”

The ginormous bird stopped circling the air, and with heart-stopping realization on your behalf, dived headfirst toward you. A shout was leaving your lips before you could process what was happening. “Run!”

A Rokh. You’ve read about the mystical bird in ancient books. It lived in the highest mountains, at the very peak, and summoning it required a forgotten and forbidden spell. Fear, for a reason other than the beast trying to have you for lunch, flooded your heart.

Someone was trying to stop you.

The squawk that rang at your ears was deafening, and you found yourself falling to your knees while pressing the palms of your hands against them in pain. A violent blow of sandy wind resulting from the Rokh swooping in was almost enough to push you off the ground. You would’ve lost all sense of the world had that unsettling feeling not made an appearance. The same warning that came from the depths of the earth before the Afarit attacked at the palace.

You stood with a start, wobbling a little as you tried to blink the sand out of your eyes. Something was coming.

The Rokh was back in the sky, putting you in the inconvenience of darkness. Alone. You tried to find the rest, tried to find Minho, but the sand obscuring your vision made it an impossible feat. Panic quickened your breaths. Where are they?

You thought you saw a figure approach you and you called hopefully, “Minho? Is that you?”

The howling wind responded instead. You tried to walk closer. “Jeongin?”

Then you began noticing something weird about the figure’s walk. It wasn’t a walk, you realized when you squinted at it. It was a hop. And at that, you noticed that no matter how close the figure got, only one half of its body was visible. One leg, one arm, half a head, and half a torso.

That was when you became convinced you were living a nightmare.

Before you could attempt to run away from the Nasnas, it pounced on you, sinking its single clawed hand through the layers of cloth and into your shoulder. The scream that left your lips wasn’t entirely yours, but of the other soul sharing your body. Feral, as it tore through the bonds you’ve trapped it with.

Pain had blanked your mind out, so you didn’t quite understand what you were doing when you reached for the monster’s only shoulder with a clawed hand. The Nasnas let out a terrible shriek when your claws sunk into its skin, making it lose hold of you and reel back. You didn’t stop there.

Power came in immense amounts when you let your Jinni half make an appearance, but so was the hunger for bloodshed. You pulled, dislodging the arm and tearing it from the body. The spray of blood that fell over you sizzled, but that was the least of your concerns. The limb turned itself into a sword in your grip and you spun to slash it through the agonized Nasnas. Its tortured screams came to a choked stop.

Your heart should’ve hurt you from the strength and frequency of its beats, but you were instead staring at the mutilated body of the monster that attacked you. Its pale skin was splattered with gruesome red, the same shade dirtying the precious yellow of the sand. A strange sign on its forehead caught your attention and you leaned closer to examine it before a shout came from the distance. “Y/n!”

Cold dread prickled your skin as you straightened up instantly, praying no one saw you kill the Nasnas.

You were quickly assured that no one saw you, simply because they were all being attacked too. The wind had settled, and you were able to find your companions each stuck in a throng of bloodthirsty Nasanees. The sight made the Jinni inside you feverish. More to kill.

La, this wasn’t you. You weren’t a cruel killer, the secret sword training sessions you’d have with your brother didn’t make you one. But it only made sense to curse a family with the most violent Jinn there was, no?

You spotted a few monsters hopping toward you and Minho not too far away, who was cutting through the beasts as he ran to you. This is going to be an ugly fight, you thought with a grimace when you noticed the bleeding scratch on Minho’s cheek. You forgot you were almost completely covered in blood, both yours and the Nasnas’.

Just don’t get too carried away, you reminded yourself, looking up to find the Rokh still flying above you. Or just get out of this alive.

The Nasanees reached you first, but you were ready this time. Fighting wasn’t something you did regularly beyond the quiet training court, but it was almost second nature when you let your powers take over.

Your saif stabbed through the first Nasnas’ middle and you pulled it sideways, cutting a clean line through. This seemed to be a distraction because the second monster decided to lunge at you while the former one toppled to the ground. The force of the impact drove you to the ground, making it a struggle to push the Nasnas off you. A struggle, but it was not impossible.

You managed to roll out of its grip, sparing no time to plunge your sword into its back to kill it. Standing back up, you expected another monster to attack, but the one that was reaching for you had the bloodied tip of a saif poking through its chest.

It crumpled to the ground when the sword was aggressively retracted to reveal Minho standing on the other side. The erratic rise and fall of his chest was very visible as his gaze trailed over the lifeless bodies sprawled between the two of you. A delirious grin stretched his lips when he looked back at you. “Where did you learn to fight so impeccably?”

“Changbin taught me.” that small smile was yours. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t miss the way he faltered for a moment at your question before answering, “I’m okay. Are you?”

It was an ironic question, considering the blood that tinted your skin and filled the air with that nauseating stench. “I’m good.” The wounds on your shoulder would heal in no time.

Your gaze moved to where you thought you saw Jeongin, skillfully countering all the attacks aimed at him. It seemed to be a Darilmalekan thing. “We should help him.”

Minho nodded and immediately rushed to where his cousin fought. You followed, gaze gravitating back to the Rokh in the sky. You had enough trouble on the ground, the threat up above was only adding to the tension.

Some Nasanees came in your way but taking them down was easy. You’d never found yourself in a fight until recently, and you realized how different it felt to fight alongside someone. There was a wordless, mutual understanding between you and Minho; protect each other’s backs, simply.

Maybe you liked the way it felt.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Hyunjin, standing with his hands clasped before him and eyes a hellish red. Any Nasnas that approached him would either drive its claws into its own guts, chew off its hand, or attack one of its kind. He was controlling them, manipulating them, and an angry thought crossed your mind. He could help the three of you, but he had chosen to stand aside and watch you get killed.

Because he knows we have the Zumurruda. What good does he gain from saving us?

You gripped your sword tighter, slashing it across a snarling monster. We’ll survive just to spite him, then.

“What are these creatures?” Jeongin asked with a shout when he spotted the two of you near. Your saif sliced through a Nasnas’s throat and you came to stand beside him, heaving a breath, “These are the kind of offspring you get when a Jinni and a human are the parents.”

“They keep coming!” Minho’s desperate exclamation made your stomach flip. They kept coming, indeed. No matter how many you killed, there was always more to surround you. You doubted any of you would be able to last long enough.

You can finish them all, a voice in your head suggested, wicked and sinister. Just let go. Let me in. Let your true self show.

La! You pushed the voice back, but it was of no use. You saw blood wherever you looked, pale corpses wherever you stepped, cries of aggression wherever you listened. Next to you, Jeongin’s left sleeve was torn away, exposing an ugly gash across his upper arm. Minho, a few monsters away, was suffering more than a single scratch. Your shoulder pulsed with a numbing ache.

Too much.

It was too much.

You could no longer keep track of the swings of your saif or the creatures falling lifeless at your feet. This ambush was bound to destroy you.

And perhaps what finally snapped the cord was the ear-splitting squawk coming from above. Daring to look up and finding the Rokh heading straight toward you, you lost all awareness of the world.

It felt as though something was tearing through your guts, burning, boiling. Your voice was no longer yours as a wrangled scream left your lips. It might’ve been pain from the Nasanees that pounced on your doubled over body or what was rising within you, but when you opened your eyes again, you only saw red.

Standing up, you felt almost weightless. The monsters that came in your way were like sticks to snap with your clawed hands. Your sword flashed between the masses until you were standing alone. They’d all been killed or had escaped; you didn’t care. Your attention was fixed on the Rokh.

To any onlooker, you supposed you looked deranged, standing in the way of the giant bird. But maybe that mattered little compared to your appearance. Red, blazing eyes, dark, horrifying horns, and bloodied, blackened fists. You were still human, but not quite.

In the background, someone called your name. The voice made your head pound with pain, but you ignored it, raising your saif and flinging it right at the approaching Rokh. The action took no effort, but the sword swiveled through the air with unhuman force, landing in the narrow joint between the bird’s wing and body. Any regular weapon would do it no harm, but this was a cursed sword, surging with Jinni powers.

The Rokh’s wings flailed with a thunderous squawk as you felt your powers bleed into its body, leaving a trail of havoc and corruption. You watched as it thrashed in the air, hurtling toward the ground at an alarming speed, but you didn’t run away. The giant bird fought against the venomous magic, you felt it, but it was losing the fight, easily. It wasn’t long before it crashed into the ground, limbs folded in awkward positions, sending a great puff of sand into the air and forcing you to shield your eyes.

Finally, there was silence.

The wind was quiet as the enormous creature spent its last, excruciating moments. It was as though the universe had held its breath, and only the untamed beating of your heart was apathetic enough to make any noise.

The nightmare was over.

A tingle ran across your skin as you eyed the destruction around you, the chilling bloodshed. Repulsion, disgust, or horror were nowhere to be found in your heart, and you knew why. The sight only made the little voice in your head quiver in exhilaration.

But then, even that voice went silent. “Y-Y/n?”

You spun around in a beat, and a crushing realization struck when your gaze fell upon the Darilmalekan prince, his cousin, and the Sahir. Oh, no.

The reality of the situation dawned on you as your conscious rushed back in. You’ve made a terrible, horrible mistake. The flames in your eyes died out as you returned to your normal form, horns and claws disappearing like illusions.

Hyunjin looked oddly amused, Jeongin was blatantly petrified, but what hurt you was the expression of pure fear distorting Minho’s features. Great going, a voice in your head mocked, you’ve crushed whatever crumbling bond the two of you had.

No, what hurt you the most was the fact that his fear was directed at you, caused by you.

A demon in human skin.

٥

“I-I can explain— I—” the stutter in your voice made you feel small and vulnerable. It felt foreign, wrong. You weren’t a weakling, never were.

Yet, you had never been more helpless.

Minho’s expression changed very little, but he managed to blink once, twice, and thrice before forcing his gaze to the sandy ground. The pulsing ache on his cheek was long forgotten as he inhaled shakily. What he had seen couldn’t be real. It didn’t make sense at all. Yet it happened. Horns erupted from your forehead and claws extended from your fingers, he saw it happen right before his eyes.

For a moment, the monsters were pouncing on you, but in the next moment, you were cutting your way through them with utter ease and terrible violence. Killing, you made it seem easy and simple. There was no remorse on your face.

That wasn’t you.

But...it was.

Daring to look back at your distraught face, he felt his throat run dry. He didn’t know what to say.

Sensing the awkward, still tension, Hyunjin sighed, “Are we waiting for another attack? We should get going and leave explanations for later.”

“R-Right,” you mumbled, letting your gaze fall to the ground and turning southward to resume your long trek wordlessly. Hyunjin followed you instantly, disregarding the bodies scattered across the ground and the large, lifeless bird lying nearby.

You avoided looking at the carcasses as you trudged ahead, finding that one worry was more than enough to keep your mind occupied. The two royals soon followed, but they stayed back — not that you were paying attention, of course.

The wound on your shoulder was almost healed, courtesy of your Jinni powers, but Minho and Jeongin had injuries that should be tended to. They were slightly deep scratches which they cleaned along the way, unwilling to interrupt the walk. Their silence hurt you more than it should’ve.

You’re being sensitive. Get ahold of yourself! A voice scolded inwardly.

The journey was appropriately silent this time, even the Sahir remained quiet as you crossed the sands. You stopped a few times to rest and reenergize, but no words were exchanged. At least not between you and anyone else. You thought you heard Jeongin mutter something to the prince a few times.

That was better. You had more time to think about the reasonable explanation you’d give them later. But even the slow hours of sunlight didn’t seem to be enough, and night befell the desert sooner than you liked.

You reached another village by then, just as you calculated earlier that day, and seeing your bloodied attire and terrible states, the villagers ushered you into their homes quickly.

They offered your group the change of clothing you needed, a place to wash up, and some medical supplies — you didn’t have to pretend to clean your healed wound.

Then, you were sat for dinner in the isolated guest house of the village. The suffocating tension only increased then, and none of you found the will to satisfy your pleading stomachs.

Seated in a small circle around the food, quiet much like the previous hours of the day had been, you dared to be the first one to break the unbearable silence with a sigh. “I think it’s time for an explanation.”

At your hushed words, Minho’s head snapped up, and a similar look of hesitant curiosity illuminated his cousin’s face. Hyunjin, however, smiled, eyes twinkling red when you thought you were hallucinating. “Ah, finally. Go on, demon girl, tell us.”

You caught the dark look Minho threw his way but decided to ignore his words, collecting your thoughts with a deep inhale. The food will be getting cold. “This story is a long one.”

“My family,” you paused, remembering that Hyunjin didn’t know of your royal status, “has been cursed for around a century.”

The prince’s eyebrow arched at this and you took that as a sign to continue your tale. “During the first century of the Arshilmalek Alliance, internal conflict was wreaking havoc across Tallilmalek. The royal forces were in a state of war with the citizens of the kingdom, many were lost due to those attacks. One...of my ancestors fought in a minor battle against the citizen-made forces. The fight took them near the mountains, where the house of one of the most powerful Sahirat was built. The fight was brutal and violent, and it unfortunately killed many innocent children and women. The Sahira’s child was one of them.

“The child and his mother were heading toward their home when they got caught up midst the fight. The mother tried to escape and protect him, but one soldier suspected her of being a threat and shot an arrow in her direction. The soldier...was my ancestor, and his arrow went into the child’s heart.”

Deadly silence settled in the room when you stopped talking. Your story wasn’t over, it had barely begun, but you gave a moment of silence for the innocent soul lost to the raging fires of war. Not a breath was heard, even the wind outside seemed to hush down and listen to your dark secret. An echo of the Sahira’s cry of agony many, many years ago.

“The Sahira caught the bleeding child in her arms with a cry of distress,” you gulped, hating how vivid the scene seemed in your head, “When her eyes landed on the culprit she screamed at him, a curse that would haunt him and his successors forever. May you never forget the pain of loss.

“The soldier thought nothing of her shouts, and while he felt a pang of guilt in his heart, he returned to the fight. Some weeks later, the war ended with the victory of the crown. The soldier went back to his wife, who was pregnant with his son at the time and nearing labor. It wasn’t long before the couple welcomed a new member to their family.

“At first, their son seemed like the other kids. He played with his cousins, he studied with his elders, and he loved his parents very much. But on his sixth birthday, the first incident took place. His mother had gone to tuck him into bed, but never returned to her room. When...the husband went to look for her, he found her in his son’s room, lying in a pool of her own blood. The hole where her heart had been gaped at him, while his son cried over his mother’s body, hands bloody.

“When asked, the son would say he didn’t know what had happened. His mother was there, then she was dying on the floor of his room. It made no sense for a child, only six years of age, to commit such a heartless crime! So, the man decided that an assassin had slipped into his house and murdered his wife, and the boy was put back to bed.

“Some weeks later, in the darkest hour of the night, a scream was heard in the man’s house. He woke with a start and rushed to the source of the sound, which led him to the stables. There, he found his son hunched over the disfigured body of a pony. His pony, he realized, but that didn’t matter as much as the horns erupting from the boy’s forehead and the claws stretching from his fingers.

“His eyes glowed like fire when he snapped his head to look at his father. Something pulsed in the child’s grip, but the man was too terrified to try to know what it was. His son looked like an Ifrit.

“Luckily then, the little boy snapped out of it and dropped to the ground with a sob when he saw his dead pony. The terrible truth had revealed itself to the man, and he found himself remembering the Sahira’s words that day. The first Jinni child had been born.

“Devastated, the man installed extra protection in his house, sent his son to all the Atiba’a and Sahara in the city, and tried to find a way to reverse the curse. But it was all in vain. Many tried to exorcise the Jinni inside the little boy, but none succeeded. No spell nor medication helped. The man gave up then, but the nightmare didn’t end there.

“News reached him that his niece, a few years younger than his son, had murdered her sleeping father and attempted to kill her mother too. The curse had spread to the entirety of the family. Every child born after the war had a Jinni inside them, thirsty for their loved ones’ blood.

“The family denied the curse in the beginning, but when the attacks increased in frequency, they knew they had to find a way to live with it. The parents began to treat their children coldly, to spark dislike and detest in their hearts and protect themselves. When the new generation of half-Jinn took over, they took the liberty to understand the Jinn inside them and develop ways to keep them in check.

“My family became known for their lack of emotions. Generation after generation was taught to carry no feelings to avoid waking the Jinn up. But to replace that hole in their hearts, they began to discover what having a Jinni inside oneself gives from power.”

You dared to tear your gaze from the carpet, sighing as though telling that story was a wearying effort. Quite literally, it was. “What you’ve seen earlier was only some of it.”

“Some of it? There’s— there’s more?” Jeongin’s disbelief didn’t mask the fear in his tone. You couldn’t blame him. You’d be scared of yourself too. “Na’am.”

“And you have full control of the Jinni?” the Sahir seemed intrigued, which didn’t soothe the unease you felt near him. You avoided his eyes when you answered, “Most of the time. It would awaken on its own due to the curse if I’m not careful with my feelings.”

“So, we are all in danger of your Jinni waking up and slaughtering us in our sleep?”

The question shouldn’t have made your chest tighten, especially coming from Hyunjin, but you could feel Minho’s intense gaze on you. Somehow, it made the words coming out of your mouth hurt.

“La, I have no feelings for any of you.”

At this, the prince stood up, excusing himself in an incoherent whisper before rushing out of the room. His cousin soon followed after giving you a confused look, which left you alone with the Sahir.

You knew it would be impolite to leave the food untouched, but you had no will to eat. If anything, you wanted to throw up. Perhaps it was how exposed you felt. No one outside the Tallilmalekan palaces knew of the curse, and no one should.

You’d just broken that, and to none other than your betrothed.

Why were you frustrated?

“You know,” Hyunjin sighed and you looked at him with your lips pressed in a straight line. The Darilmalekan royals were no longer around, you could finally confront him freely. You had much to say. “What?”

“You and I...we’re the same.” You noticed that his hand was closed over a charm he wore around his neck. It wasn’t there before.

“How so?”

“You felt it, didn’t you? That strange energy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you denied. What did this stranger know?

When his eyes began to glow red, you wanted to look away, but it was as though something in them pulled you in. The other soul in you stirred, almost in recognition. Or repulsion.

Something was wrong with the Sahir.

“You felt my presence that night, that’s why you warned Minho, right?” when you didn’t respond, he pressed, “You felt the Nasanees before they came. Don’t you see? Our souls speak the same language.”

You had to get away. This Sahir wasn’t a normal one, something was very wrong. “Pardon me—”

“It’s the whisper of corruption, bloodlust, hell. Like calls to like—”

“Kafa! What do you know about the curse?” you snapped, letting your eyes blaze red threateningly. It only made Hyunjin smile, slow and cryptic. “Oh, I know more than you could imagine, demon girl.”

•؏•

“It seems that Han Jisung was right, for once in his life,” Minho remarked when he sensed his cousin’s presence nearby. He’d left the guest house for a breath of fresh air; it was becoming suffocating inside.

The moon had hidden that night, as if it knew of the events that would unfold and preferred to not witness them. The prince wished he could hide too, return to his palace and his normal life, and forget everything. No magic gemstones, no hellish monsters, and no half-Jinni princesses.

Was he frightened by what you had confessed? Not much. Overwhelmed could be a better word. He didn’t know what to make of this new information. You, who he thought he’d known throughout his life, turned out to be someone else.

Or not.

It conflicted him. You were still you, still his Amira, right? That had always been you, claws and horns, even if he’d never seen them before.

Then why did his heart hurt so much?

“I have no feelings for any of you,” Jeongin repeated your words with a shake of his head. He could almost sense the moment his cousin’s heart collapsed. “I’m sorry, Minho.”

Right, that.

It made perfect sense to the Amir, and he despised it. Your never-changing indifference toward him, your stiff behavior, his useless efforts — you were protecting him from yourself.

No matter what he did, you’d never open your heart to him. You couldn’t risk it.

What did you mean the previous night, then?

It was...unfair, and Minho knew it was silly of him to say. What were the odds of helplessly falling in love with a half-Jinni princess?

The prince sighed, letting his shoulders sag dejectedly, “La ba’as. I suppose we...were never meant to be.”

“Don’t say that...” Jeongin pursed his lips while giving him a sharp look. His cousin was never one to give up, not after a hundred dry smiles and nonchalant words. Something had always pushed him to return those smiles sincerely, to not let rejection bring his spirits down. But the light in his eyes dimmed, and for the first time ever, he looked truly defeated. He knew how much this certain defeat affected him.

“I’m sure there’s a way to fix this.”

Minho gave him a small, sad smile. It was visible despite the darkness of the night. “I’m not sure anymore, Jeongin.”

“But—”

“I think...I need some time to think about it.”

“Alright. I’ll give you some space then.” Jeongin gave in, biting his bottom lip as if keeping in anything he wanted to add. With one last look at Minho, he turned around to return to the guest house. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” the prince mumbled after him. He wasn’t sure if space was what he needed because it seemed to make his thoughts double in loudness.

Not meant for each other, the voice in his mocked. Should’ve lost hope long ago.

Perhaps it was time to lose hope and move on. Better now than wait for his heart to be crushed further.

Minho didn’t want to, but he would try to disregard his feelings.

You seemed to do a great job of that. It shouldn’t be too hard, right?

•؏•

It was impossible.

When Minho awakened the next day and caught sight of you, none of the previous night’s sentiments mattered. He knew he was being a fool, but he couldn’t leave his heart behind. At least, not so soon.

Who was he without loving you?

So, Minho carried his saif and resumed the journey, following you to wherever the Zumurruda guided you.

The sun wasn’t any kinder that day, but no enormous birds were to be seen and for that, you were grateful. You led your companions south, as the Zumurruda continued to compel you. It was a little worrying, as there were no marked villages along your way. You might have to spend the night in the open desert if no solutions came across your minds.

“Can’t you use your...powers to set camp when it’s time?” Jeongin wondered and you shook your head, “La. I can’t transform sand into a house.” It wasn’t a body part you could make weapons out of...

“Oh, well.” He puffed out his cheeks, slightly disappointed. You suppressed a smile. The tension from the previous day had lessened, which was a great relief. You weren’t sure you would be able to handle another suffocatingly silent walk. Although, Minho still didn’t say much.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Have none of you slept under the moon before?” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, missing the look exchanged between you and Jeongin. Royals don’t sleep in the open.

“No, we haven’t. But I suppose there’s nothing to worry about,” the younger royal said. “Y/n, you’ve got Minho, and I have my pouch to sleep on... It wouldn’t be so bad.”

You glared, and an embarrassed cough came from where Minho walked. It only made a mischievous grin grow on Jeongin’s lips.

Rolling your eyes dismissively, you shut your thoughts out before they became dangerous. “We might find a Waha along the way. There’s still a long day ahead of us.”

“Pray to the Aliha we do,” Jeongin muttered, raising his head to squint at the sun, “It’s formidably cold during the night.”

And you did. You wished in your heart for somewhere safe to spend the night at before lapsing into comfortable silence. The four of you traveled undisturbed for several hours, stopping to rest before continuing your seemingly endless route.

No signs of life crossed your path as the sun inched westward. No villages or caravans, not even a tree or a well. You’d begun to worry when the sky’s blue poured into a light purple, until a dark bush in the distance caught your attention. “There’s something ahead!”

It was too late for a mirage to fool you, and the closer you got, the clearer it became. The dark bush rose to become the tips of a cluster of palm trees. You’d found an oasis.

You found yourself rushing toward it as if it would slip away like a fragment of your imagination. Your prayers were answered after all. You wouldn’t have to sleep the night in the cruel cold.

The oasis wasn’t big, but neither was it small. You walked through several rows of trees before reaching the heart keeping them alive, a spring of water. It was more than you could’ve asked for.

Running to the water, Jeongin was the first to plunge his hands in and splash his face with it. Hyunjin disregarded him and found a palm tree to lean on while Minho stayed back, looking around before announcing, “I’ll gather tinder to light a fire.”

“I’ll join you.” Jeongin stood and unsheathed his saif. If Minho had given him a discouraging look, he didn’t see it before following him deeper into the oasis.

You were once more left alone with Hyunjin.

You decided to sit at the base of a tree a little away from the Sahir, still unsettled by his presence. Bringing out a bundle of tamir, you chewed on a piece to recharge when Hyunjin asked, “What kind of tinder are those two planning to collect with their suyoof?”

You took your time before swallowing your food and answering him nonchalantly, “I suppose they’ll be cutting some fronds from a low nakhla.”

The Sahir nodded wistfully before shaking his head as if in disbelief. “It still strikes me as a wonder why the two of them are accompanying you on this journey. You clearly don’t depend on them.”

You ignored him, instead taking notice of the thin crescent moon smiling at you from its reflection on the water. There’s some light tonight, you thought, mind wandering off to Minho’s and Jeongin’s whereabouts. You could hear the sound of branches being chopped off not too far away.

“Ignoring my questions only confirms my assumptions, y/n. You’re using them, aren’t you? What else would a half-Jinni want with useless humans?” Hyunjin pressed, almost as if desperately trying to dig out an evil plan from you. It was beginning to become annoying.

A ‘tsk’ left your lips as you rolled your eyes at him, knowing that he could clearly see you. “I am not using them, Hyunjin. They are my companions.”

“Companions? Pathetic,” the Sahir chuckled dryly. “Jeongin, I think I can understand, but the other one? What company does he provide exactly? All he does is brandish his saif around and glare. Or is it the face you’re keeping him around for?”

You didn’t understand it completely, but something about Hyunjin speaking about Minho that way bothered you. What did the Sahir know about him to talk like that?

You knew you were letting your emotions have the best of you when you replied bitterly, “He has a name, you know. And he’s my fiancé.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was lifting an eyebrow. His uncanny interest sent a chill up your spine.

The conversation was fortunately cut short when Minho arrived along with Jeongin, each carrying a few branches. They set on kindling the fire in no time, and a bright flame soon lit up the area. The shadows that danced on the palm trees were almost eerie, but that didn’t bother Jeongin as he plopped on the sand wearily, dropping his bag and sighing tiredly. He didn’t care to eat something before wishing you all a good night and dozing off almost immediately. You didn’t question his behavior, finding yourself eager to do just the same. If only the ever so faint ache in your heart would quiet down.

The cause of that ache, you knew, but found no courage to confront.

You weren’t a fool to deny that Minho’s silence bothered you more than it should’ve. It was as if he were purposely avoiding you, and if you were to be honest, you missed the meager talk you’d share with him.

You might never be able to talk to him normally again, just when things began to better. With that thought, you gave up on trying to fall asleep and took on gazing at the dotted sky. It had become so beguilingly silent that you would’ve missed the faint rustle of a sword running through sand. Almost.

You snapped your head in the direction of the sound, and that was when you noticed that on the other side of the spring, someone was awake.

Perhaps just as conflicted with thought as you were, Minho had chosen to lean on a tree away from the three of you. He, too, had trouble falling asleep.

He couldn’t see you like you’d seen him, clear and beautiful despite the dark. As he’d always been.

Looking around, you found that the Sahir was asleep, or at least seemed to be. You held your breath. That was your chance.

Gulping anxiously, you pushed yourself to your feet and walked carefully through the sand and around the glimmering eye of the spring. It didn’t take long for the prince to notice you, for he stopped playing with his saif and laid it on the ground gently. Something flashed in his eyes, unexplainable, when they rose to regard your approaching figure.

For a moment there, you hesitated. What if I’m doing the wrong thing? But that thought was shoved away by the words that fell out of your lips thoughtlessly. “May I sit?”

Minho’s response came in a whisper after a few beats of silence, as though he was in disbelief. “Of course.”

You mustered a weak smile, which went unseen, before sitting beside him on the hardened sand. You could see the fire flicker and wave at you from across the spring as if it were wishing you good luck. You needed it.

“Have you eaten?”

Your question was met with a shrug. “La... I’m not hungry.”

You hummed in acknowledgement before letting silence take you into its suffocating embrace. You’d run out of things to say, and you dreaded delving into the topic. But you knew that there was no escaping it, that this might be the only chance you’d get to talk in privacy, so you inhaled deeply and pushed down your worries.

What’s the worst that could happen anyway? You’d tried all what the universe had to offer.

“Do you remember Changmin?”

Minho was slightly taken aback by your question, but he nodded nonetheless, “Na’am. Why?”

He remembered your little brother. He was only a few months old when he was announced dead in an assassination. It was said that mourning over his death killed the Tallilmalekan Queen.

Your gaze was trained on the crescent in the sky as you spoke, letting yet another family secret free. “Ummi had done a great job with raising the three of us. She’d repressed her Jinni excellently. But with his birth...her biggest fear lived.”

The air stopped in Minho’s lungs when a ghastly realization struck about what you were telling him. Your little brother was not assassinated but rather—

“Perhaps she’d thought she was safe, so she let her heart loose,” you paused with a heavy sigh, “It was only a few months before we found her wailing over his lifeless body, covered in his blood. It...killed her.”

The Amir couldn’t speak. His tongue felt too heavy to lift. When you’d first explained the curse, he thought he’d encompassed the horror of it. He was wrong.

You sighed again, knowing that your story must’ve been unpleasant to hear. “I-I suppose what I’m trying to say is...asifa. I owe you an explanation for all that’s happening.”

When he remained quiet, you continued, “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, and there is some truth to them. We’ve kept the curse in our family for as long as we can remember and as a result, people began to take notice of our outside relations and political marriages. We can’t afford to torment more innocent people with the crimes of our ancestors. I-I know I can’t ask this of you, but I hope you would keep some understanding in your heart. I don’t want you to be hurt— I don’t want to hurt you.”

Minho would’ve thought he imagined the last few words had they not repeated in his head like a prayer. Suddenly, he felt like the most selfish prince to walk upon the land. There you were, worried that you’d hurt him, while he was letting his own heartbreak blind him. You didn’t choose to live that way, why was he putting the blame on you?

“You don’t have to apologize,” he spoke, startled by the strange rawness in his voice. “It’s not— it’s not your fault.”

You wanted to laugh as you brought your gaze down, but a shiny object caught your attention instead. The ring encircling the prince’s fourth finger reflected the thin moonlight elegantly, almost mocking in its pride. You didn’t recall seeing him without it ever since your engagement ceremony a couple of years ago. It made your heart lurch weirdly.

Looking back at your bare fingers, guilt crumbled like a brittle statue in your chest. La, you had a lot to apologize for. “It’s not that.

“Ever throughout our lives, I’ve made you feel unwanted for no apparent reason. You deserve much better than that, had fate not been so cruel. Asifa, for despite all my efforts, you are still in danger.”

“What do you mean?” Minho gulped, making you chuckle sardonically, “Have you tried fighting your heart before?”

You didn’t expect an answer, but you still paused before continuing, “It’s not easy... You don’t make it any easier either.”

When you’d spent your life cutting your conversations as short as can be, it felt almost liberating to speak with the prince for that long. You decided that maybe, you’d let your guard down for the night. Just this once.

But while you savored the sweetness of that momentary freedom, Minho felt as though he was running out of air. Was that a slight confession, or was exhaustion finally getting into his mind? He was glad you didn’t push for any responses from him, or else he might’ve said something undeniably foolish.

You had too much power over him, and he doubted you even knew.

“S-So,” the prince cleared his throat. He shouldn’t get too happy, not with the curse still holding you down. “that’s how it’ll stay?”

You didn’t have to ask to know that he meant the odd relationship the two of you had; hidden feelings and unrequited love. You smiled weakly, “La. There’s something...you should know.”

At that, Minho hummed, prompting you to proceed. And you did, with an undertone of excitement. “There is a way to break the curse.”

“The Sahira who created the curse had enchanted a stone heart to absorb all her magic when she dies. It is called the Sahira’s Heart, and it is hidden somewhere in the Isle of the damned.

“Shattering the Sahira’s Heart would destroy all the curses she’d laid. To find it, the Sahira created the Zumurruda.”

Minho was quick to put the pieces together and he concluded with newfound hope, “And the Zumurruda actually leads to the Sahira’s Heart.”

“Correct,” you nodded. “Many princes have tried finding it before me, but as you can see, none succeeded.”

“Why?”

“It’s a dangerous journey.”

“Why are you taking it then? Aren’t you...afraid?”

His question caught you off guard. Following the Zumurruda had always been a purpose you ran after. Never had you stopped to think about fear. Sure, you knew that the journey wasn’t a passing breeze, but were you afraid?

You shrugged, “La.”

“And I know you might be thinking that if the princes before me failed, I should know better than to follow the same route. But you must know that unlike those princes, I am willing to use my powers,” you exhaled, voice dropping to a murmur, “even if it costs me dearly.”

It was at that moment Minho knew that he would follow you to hell and back unhesitatingly. He was bound to you until the sky falls, and a curse won’t be changing that anytime. “I’ll be with you then, Amirati.”

You smiled, swiftly calming the ripple of flutters in your heart. “Shukran—”

The word stuck in your throat like pebbles in mud when a gust of unease slammed into you. Something was wrong.

No, something was approaching.

You stood with a start, eyes darting from one side to another in suffocating anticipation. This was different. Unlike the Afarit or the Nasanees, it felt big, and far more dangerous. Untamed.

Like calls to like, Hyunjin had said. That thing wasn’t your like.

It felt more like the complete opposite. The Jinni in you seemed almost...afraid.

Your sudden actions made Minho frown in concern, “Is something wrong—” he didn’t get to ask because right then, the ground rumbled, and you reached for him with an exclamation, “Look out!”

٦

The onyx horn appeared to glow in the night. You would’ve been in awe had it not been connected to a terrifying creature, and had it not made you feel lightheaded. This is not good.

The Mi’raj. None of the sketches you’d seen of it prepared you for the sheer horror of the monster. What seemed like an enormous rabbit had fur the color of Qahwa, claws that ripped from darkened paws, eyes that pulsed red, and a magnificent horn that crowned its head. It had an appearance that was so abominable that the Jinni in you repulsed in disgust...or fear.

The beast grunted as it lunged at the two of you, not sparing a moment for you to catch your breath. Pushing Minho out of the way, you threw yourself to the other side and scrambled to your feet when the Mi’raj halted to a stop.

You tasted sand, and Minho shouted above the commotion, “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know. Wake the rest!” You cried as you avoided a stab from the beast’s horn by a hair. You tried calling on to your powers, but it was like lighting a fire midst heartless wind.

It was of no use.

You resorted to running for your life when it caught the bottom of your cloak and ripped it apart. It followed you relentlessly as you stumbled along your way through the palm trees. But you could only run away for so long, and you knew that eventually, it would catch you. Desperation was beginning to savage your heart as helplessness closed in on you.

Why can’t you summon your powers? You opened the doors for your Jinni to take over, but it stayed hidden. It refused to make an appearance.

You were to deal with that monster alone.

That was the first time you’d felt genuine, raw fear, and you never wanted to experience it again. How ironic.

You thought you heard shouts coming from behind, but you couldn’t distinguish them from those in your mind. The Mi’raj seemed to target you alone, and you didn’t have to guess to know why. It, too, came for the Zumurruda.

The Zumurruda.

Oh.

An idea struck you like a splash of water under the blazing sun and you fidgeted to pull the gemstone out of your tunic. You made an abrupt turn, which resulted in the Mi’raj crashing into a few trees. This bought you a few seconds to hold the Zumurruda and call on to your powers again.

The Zumurruda was a relic of great power, and you thought that if you could pull its magic into yourself, you might be able to defeat the Mi’raj. You only had to figure out how to do that.

Your muscles burned from running in the sand, but you couldn’t give in to the pain. The Mi’raj was back on your trail sooner than you wished, but that didn’t matter because you found an opening in the Zumurruda’s pull. A loose thread, and you pulled at it eagerly.

You opened your soul to it, much like you did to welcome your Jinni powers. The Zumurruda’s magic felt cold, corrupt, and it would’ve made you shy away had you not been desperate for anything to save yourself.

You didn’t know if your hands had gotten cold, but the gemstone was suddenly too warm. Magic, so corrupted and viscous, seeped into your system. For a beat there, you realized the mistake you’d committed.

This was the same magic that cursed you and your family. The same magic that damned this land. It was evil. What had you taken in?

A terrible squeak behind you snapped you out of your thoughts and you lost your footing, tripping and twisting your ankle as you came face to face with the sand. But you had no time to dwell over the sharp pain, for the Mi’raj pounced on you with a haunting growl and you were plunged into numbness.

The Zumurruda was still in your hand when you shielded your face with your arms, ready to surrender to your cruel fate with closed eyes. Right then, you thought of home, of your mother and father, of your brother and sister.

You’d tried. You’d tried to end their misery once and for all, for them and for yourself. But that was the end of it all. You thought of Minho, and how heartless fate had been toward the two of you.

Perhaps that was it. That was the last act in the play of your fates.

It felt like an incomplete ending.

A ring of white light exploded from the Zumurruda upon contact with the tip of the Mi’raj’s horn, engulfing you in pure brilliance. For a moment there, you felt light, weightless, as though you were floating amid the clouds before falling back to the hard ground. You felt heavy then. Something pressed on your chest, narrowing your breaths to choked gasps.

Alive or dead, you couldn’t tell, but you caught the shouts that surrounded you before losing yourself to the forbidding darkness.

•؏•

Minho was sure his soul had left his body when he found you lying still under the lifeless body of the Mi’raj. He dropped the torch in his hand and fell to your side, helplessly trying to push off the monster and pull you out. Jeongin rushed to his aid instantly, while Hyunjin observed apathetically.

The three had been following you when a flash of light caught their attention. To the two royals, it was a clear indicator of your whereabouts, but to the Sahir, it was different news. A familiar energy was released with that light, and he was dreadfully aware of its source.

The Zumurruda.

You did something and it cost great magic.

After much struggling, Minho and Jeongin managed to drag your body away from the beast. That’s when Minho noticed something horribly wrong. A curse left his lips as his hands rested on your face in worried pats. “She’s cold— too cold. Bring the torch or anything, we need fire!”

Jeongin stood and hurried to the torch Minho had dropped earlier. It was dying out quickly, but he supposed that was better than nothing.

He brought it back to Minho, who had a hand placed on the side of your neck. There was a pulse, and he released a breath he’d been holding for too long. You’re alive.

Taking the torch from Jeongin, the prince noticed that the flame was getting smaller. It was barely enough to warm you up.

“What are you doing?” Jeongin eyed his cousin weirdly when he unraveled his litham, piled it on the ground, and dropped the flaming torch over it. The fire rose, and Minho responded casually, “We don��t have time to collect more tinder.”

“But what about your head—”

“I’ll be okay. Bring some water and bandages,” Minho dismissed his worries and knelt beside you again, pushing you to lie a little closer to the small fire. He checked for any obvious injuries and noticed that your left hand was bleeding profusely from a wound across your palm.

When he examined it closely, he noticed the shards of a green gemstone poking through the cut and with a grimace, he carefully removed them. The pieces were covered in blood, but they weren’t hard to recognize. They were pieces of—

“The Zumurruda.”

Minho snapped his head in the direction of the voice to find Hyunjin standing behind him, an unsettling expression illuminating his face as he peered at the broken pieces of the gemstone. Gripping the hilt of his sword, the prince stood to face him threateningly, “Stand back.”

“Oh, look who’s becoming angry,” Hyunjin raised a brow, “You know, you are in no place to pretend as though I am the villain here. You lied to me about the Zumurruda and now your fiancée broke it.”

The Sahir’s eyes began to glow red as his voice grew in depth. “If anyone were to be angry here it should be me, and you should’ve known better than to meddle around in—”

A sharp gasp followed by a coarse cough interrupted him, and Minho spent no time to return to your side and help you into a sitting position.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” he muttered, although it sounded as though he was reassuring himself instead. He had an arm wrapped around your shoulders to support you, while gently massaging your shoulders to encourage your body to relax. It was a method he’d learned from the royal medic.

Jeongin arrived right then, carrying a waterskin and the necessary supplies. The Sahir watched, silently seething, as the prince offered you water and his cousin tended to your wounded hand. You were mumbling incoherently, refusing water and treatment, but Minho was not giving in. “Y/n, please, you need to drink water.”

“B-But...” your words were slurred, as though the mere act of speech was a grueling effort you weren’t capable of. The prince’s tone was gentle, and it made Hyunjin’s skin crawl in disgust. Or envy. “You can say all you want, just have a sip of water first.”

You remained still for a moment, limply leaning on Minho for support, before weakly reaching out for the waterskin. Quickly noticing your efforts, your fiancé helped you lift the pouch to your lips.

The world slowly blinked into clarity after you took a long sip of water. It took you several moments to realize that Minho was almost holding you in an embrace, and while it made the Jinni inside you recoil, you didn’t wish to move. It was comfortable in ways you forbade yourself from indulging in.

Jeongin had finished bandaging your hand when you noticed shiny, green bits in the ground. Your weariness didn’t hinder you from recognizing it and you whispered, almost in disbelief, “The Zumurruda...”

“Yes, the Zumurruda,” came a voice, so dark and beguiling. The Sahir picked a shard from the ground and let it rest in the palm of his hand. “You broke it.”

At his words, you took in a breath that felt like doom. You’d broken the Zumurruda.

What had you done?

“I knew you had it, but I didn’t expect you to break it. If I’d known, I would’ve taken it from you, you foolish human!” Hyunjin’s fist curled over the green shard and the air began to crackle dangerously. The prince didn’t seem to notice that as he scowled. “Be quiet.”

“No, h-he’s right,” you managed to murmur. “I...broke it.”

“I’m sure there’s another explanation.”

“No, there is not!” Hyunjin advanced threateningly, eyes blazing red as though he was going to lay a deadly curse on the three of you. At that moment, Jeongin swiftly unsheathed his saif and held it against the Sahir’s neck. “I presume we told you to be quiet.”

Hyunjin glared at the young royal before rolling his eyes, “I suppose there is no point in arguing now, is there?”

A weak whisper came from you. “But how...will we find the Sahira’s Heart now?”

Jeongin frowned in confusion, “What?”

“See! It is truly a dilemma,” Hyunjin stepped away from the edge of the sword and clasped his hands behind his back. “How will we find the Sahira’s Heart?”

“Why do you care?” Minho scoffed, to which Hyunjin tutted, “We’ve been in this perilous journey together, I suppose I feel an obligation to finish it with you.”

You would’ve laughed at the prince’s exaggerated eye roll had you not been half conscious. “There’s...no point in resuming this journey...there is no Zumurruda t-to guide us...”

“Right, right,” the Sahir paused, pondering, before he smiled knowingly, “I might know of a way...”

“There’s a cave on the Isle of the Damned fabled to hide riches beyond one’s imagination.” Hyunjin’s tone was that of wonder as he spoke. “It is said that a Marid is trapped there, and it could grant its freer three wishes.”

Jeongin raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t that a mere legend?”

“Yes, but so are the Nasanees and the Rokh. It might as well be true.”

“Are we going to resume this journey relying on a legend?” Minho interjected, skepticism clear in his voice. “Are we sure this wouldn’t be a great waste of time?”

“Do you want to find the Sahira’s Heart or not?” Hyunjin argued. “You’ve already wasted time coming here then breaking the Zumurruda.”

“I don’t like repeating myself, ya Sahir,” the prince narrowed his eyes when Hyunjin brought up the broken gemstone once more. The latter ignored him, and you found it would be better to speak before an argument broke out. “The Sahir might be right. If we can...find this cave, then we might be able to wish for the Sahira’s Heart...”

“I suppose there’s something I am unaware of,” Jeongin cleared his throat, “What is this ‘Sahira’s Heart’?”

“I’ll explain to you later,” Minho answered him before turning his attention to you, “Are you sure you want to do this? We can also return home...”

You took in a quiet breath. After all that had happened in the past few days, you knew you weren’t ready to give up yet. “I still want...to try.”

“It is set then!” Hyunjin clasped his hands, appearing a tad bit too enthusiastic in comparison to his outburst a short while ago. “I’ll be seeing you by sunrise.”

The three of you gave him no response as he strode away, back to the heart of the oasis. Jeongin soon followed, after asking if his help was needed and gathering the supplies he brought. You found yourself alone with Minho again, much like you were an hour ago. Silence had finally settled around the two of you.

Your soul was at peace, which you thought was odd, considering the disaster dawning on you. You didn’t know what happened after you blacked out. The Zumurruda was broken, and months of planning were gone in a blink.

All you had left was faith in Hyunjin’s plan. Who would’ve thought you’d be trusting the Sahir after all?

Close to you, Minho found himself at peace too. Concern still nagged at the back of his mind, but with you alive and breathing in his arms, it became a hushed whisper. His heart didn’t hammer in his chest, as he’d expected it to if he were to ever hold you. Instead, it was calm, blissful. And selfishly, he wished that moment would last.

It wouldn’t, he knew.

A sigh left your lips, “Minho, I have to tell you...something.”

A hum encouraged you to continue. “I think...I absorbed the Zumurruda’s power.”

“What do you mean?” the prince sounded almost afraid.

“The Mi’raj, I couldn’t use my powers near it,” you recalled, “I...thought that if I could use the Zumurruda’s power I might be able to defeat it somehow. I-I don’t know what happened next but that broke it.”

You finally turned your gaze to where the Mi’raj lay. Only then did you take a good look at it and notice the substance of which its horn was made.

Abarmout Stone.

Things began to make sense suddenly. The precious stone was used to ward off evil, and it could only be found in the depths of Bahr Abarmout. Evils, such as your Jinni powers, were useless against it.

But not the Zumurruda. The Sahira’s powers were beyond hell and its devilry.

“I’ve made a big...mistake.”

“That was not a mistake,” Minho asserted. “You had to do anything to save yourself and if a meager rock was the cost, then so be it.”

“Well, whatever was in that meager rock is in my blood now.” A ghost of a laugh danced in your voice, though you hadn’t the heart to laugh. “I don’t know what this might mean but...you have the right to know what happened to the Zumurruda.”

“It’s alright. It doesn’t matter to me as it matters to others. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Asifa,” that was the only response you could utter, and it seemed to confuse the prince just as much. “Why?”

“For dragging you along this...aimless, perilous trek. I should’ve been doing this alone.”

At that moment, Minho was convinced you were rambling off due to exhaustion. Why else would you say something like that?

“Y/n,” he sighed, “I suggested to join you, and I wouldn’t take back my words for anything.”

“But—”

“I promise.”

You fell silent at that. There was no changing his mind.

“Can you walk?” Minho asked after a beat, and you brought your knees close to your body with a whisper, “I think so.”

Your shoulders felt cold when Minho removed his arm from around you to stand. He held a hand out for you, and you grabbed it reluctantly as you pushed yourself to your feet. The fire near you was dying out, but that didn’t explain the formidable cold you felt at your fingertips.

Nor the chill that pumped out of your heart.

•؏•

You reached Kahif Al Ghareeb after two days of wearying travel. The cave was situated at the base of one of the Isle’s great mountains, and Hyunjin claimed it was the fabled place.

You couldn’t deny the eeriness of the cave. There was magic inside, indeed. Perhaps, your journey won’t end in vain after all...

“This is the entrance?” Jeongin remarked loudly, raising an eyebrow at the enormous rock blocking the cave’s opening.

“Na’am. Does it not look like an entrance to you?” Hyunjin retorted, stepping toward the rocky barrier.

The three of you followed him. “Well, you can’t enter through it.”

“Not unless you say the magic words.”

“The what?”

“The magic words— have none of you heard the tale of Ali Baba?” the Sahir was both baffled and disappointed. You caught his low murmur of ‘people of this age’ and decided not to comment on it. “It’s a tale for a reason.”

“You, out of all people, shouldn’t be saying this,” Hyunjin shook his head. “You breathe magic.”

You disregarded him as Jeongin frowned, “So you’re implying that if we simply say ‘Iftah ya simsim’ the rock would miraculously mo—”

A rumble coming from within the mountain cut him off, and you wanted to laugh when the entrance cleared slowly as though the rock were a simple door. You’ve seen enough magic in the past days, a moving boulder shouldn’t have been a surprise.

Hyunjin’s expression was strangely smug as he strode into the dark cave. From your place, you could see mounds of what seemed to be gold and jewelry, strewn across the cave. It was unreal, even for a royal like you.

The Sahir stopped short and clasped his hands, muttering something before throwing them outward and illuminating the cave in the light of a thousand flames. You could hear Minho’s slow inhale of wonder when his gaze fell upon the treasures inside. “It’s real.”

“Everything is real,” Hyunjin shrugged. “Now will you continue to stand there like fools, or will you step in?”

“Right,” the prince muttered before walking toward the Sahir. You and Jeongin followed.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” you hid your awe as you came to stand beside Hyunjin. The unnerving energy around him had become less unsettling in the past couple of days. He gave you a cryptic smile, “You could do anything if you stop trying to be so human.”

Before you could respond to that, Minho questioned, “What do we do now?”

“We look for the Marid’s lamp,” the Sahir answered matter-of-factly.

“Amid all this? That would be impossible.”

“Well, not impossible per se,” Hyunjin crossed his arms, pondering for a short while before announcing, “My instincts tell me we should look in the far left corner of the cave.”

Minho rolled his eyes sarcastically and directed his attention toward you, “What do you say?”

“I don’t know. I suppose we look wherever Hyunjin says to begin,” you shrugged, and so the four of you began the long search.

It was almost impossible, as the prince complained, for there was much to sift through and you had no map to guide you.

Almost.

You noticed the strange pull the closer you neared the corner at which Hyunjin pointed. Magic. And you could feel it like you felt the approach of the Afarit and the Nasanees. You relied on that inner compass.

Your search was approaching no advancements when you heard commotion by the entrance of the cave. You noticed it first, the sound of loud conversation and the thumping of hooves.

You weren’t alone.

Soon enough, Minho and Jeongin noticed it too and shared alarmed looks. The Sahir seemed unbothered.

“What do you mean the Zumurruda is gone too? First the Rokh, then the Mi’raj, and now this?!” you could make out an angry exclamation and your heart dropped in realization. They must be the people who sent all those monsters to attack you and retrieve the Zumurruda. They jeopardized your life, Minho’s, and Jeongin’s throughout the past days.

The coincidence was perturbing, and you truly weren’t prepared for another fight.

“Wait!” the shout was closer. “The entrance is open— someone’s here!”

Minho unsheathed his saif, “I’ll go settle this—”

You placed a hand on his arm to keep him from moving. “Stay here. I don’t know what they are capable of.”

“Oh, stop worrying. It’s probably a band of harmless thieves,” Hyunjin said with a dismissive wave of his hand, to which you scowled, whispering, “These “thieves” are the same people who sent that Rokh to attack us! Didn’t you hear?”

He spared you a second-long glance and shrugged, continuing to look through a treasure chest.

You wished you could smack him.

“Quick! Search the cave!” a command from who you assumed was the leader sounded across the cave and Minho gave you a desperate look, “I can’t just sit here, they’ll find us eventually!”

When you didn’t budge, he reasoned, “Let me and Jeongin distract them while you search for the lamp. Them finding the two of us is better than finding us all.”

“He’s right,” Jeongin interjected and you had to sigh in exasperation. “What if they outnumber you and your distraction doesn’t help us? These people are dangerous.”

“More dangerous than the Nasanees?” the prince suggested.

“I don’t know, maybe!”

“Trust us, y/n,” he paused, as if contemplating his next words before sighing, “Just focus on finding the lamp, and we’ll get out of here.”

Your heart screamed at you to deny his request, but your mind propelled you otherwise. Minho’s plan did seem like the best thing to do. Though, you had a feeling you would regret the words that fell from your mouth. “Fine. Be safe.”

٧

It wasn’t long after Minho and Jeongin snuck away did you hear a stranger shout, “I’ve found them!”

You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand and find the lamp, but it proved to be impossible. With the shouts and the clashing of swords invading every comprehensible thought of yours, you couldn’t keep your mind off the prince and his cousin. If those thieves had the means to summon a Rokh, then you were justifiably concerned for the safety of your companions.

Concerned enough to miss the growing pull of magic that was tugging at your soul.

“I think— y/n!” the Sahir brought you out of your thoughts and you blinked at him distractedly, “Na’am?”

“Focus, will you? Can’t you feel where the lamp lies?”

“I think so,” you drawled.

“Then what is it telling you? Why aren’t you doing anything?!”

“I—” you turned to face him, eyes wide in fear. “Asifa. I have to help them.”

“La! We need to find the lamp!” Hyunjin called after you, but you couldn’t hear him as you made your way toward the commotion. You found them, a large group of bandits teamed against the two Darilmalekan royals. It wasn’t an ordinary fight, for they appeared to want to kill with each swing of their swords. They were like a pack of wild hounds.

A familiar presence within you awakened at the scene, bloodthirsty.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a man wrapped in black advance on a distracted Jeongin with his saif raised. To your sheer horror, he brought his sword down on the unsuspecting royal’s head, eliciting a chilling cry from him. It reverberated within your bones, numbing your limbs, stealing your voice, and throwing your world into mayhem. In a moment of weakness, Minho turned toward his fallen cousin. His assailants were quick to take advantage of his distraction.

The flash of swords was the last you saw before your vision dipped into blood and you found yourself tearing through the bandits in a haze.

Your clawed hands burned with bright flames as they ravaged anything and everything within their reach. You couldn’t discern your enemies from your friends, all were the same in the eyes of your Jinni. Prey.

You didn’t feel it, but the cave shook with the fury that pulsed in your heart. Your blind carnage didn’t last long, for many escaped or hid. Most, but one.

He stood, saif in hand, as he called on his bandits, “You fools! You’ve seen worse monsters!”

A flicker of thought crossed your mind. He must be their leader.

A new spark of rage ignited in your soul, and in a beat, you were grabbing his neck and throwing him into a pile of gold. Blisters were appearing on his neck in place of your blazing grip, but you felt no remorse as you proceeded toward him again.

His scream of horror went unheard when your clawed hand covered his face, digging into the skin mercilessly. When you spoke, it wasn’t your voice. “Y-You.”

You dragged your hand downward, slow and torturous. This time, his screams were loud enough to pierce the veil of bloodlust clouding your mind, but what stopped you was the arm that swung against your neck and pulled you backward. Instinctively, you pushed your attacker off, sending him hurtling across the clearing. You’d let go of the bandits’ leader and turned around to look at who you pushed, locking gazes.

You saw it then.

Fear.

And your senses crashed back into you with a horrified gasp. Blood had lathered your arms and tinted your clothes, but you only cared to rush to his side. “Minho!”

He didn’t struggle to sit upright, although you noticed he clutched his right arm with a grimace. His eyes were glazed over when you dropped to your knees beside him, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Minho shook his head, seemingly elsewhere, “Where’s Jeongin?”

Jeongin. You stood with a start, looking around frantically and praying to all the Aliha he didn’t fall victim to your Jinni’s violence. You spotted him lying on the ground, limbs sprawled lifelessly, resting on a blanket of his own blood. Minho trailed behind you, and when he saw his dear cousin, he fell to his side with a choked sob. His hands roamed his face, trying, searching for some hope.

You didn’t find it in you to stand any closer. Death was looming around you, and you refused to let it take Jeongin away. There must be a way to fix this. There must be something—

“Well, at least some of us did something useful while you hooligans wasted your time brawling with bandits,” came Hyunjin’s voice from behind. You snapped around to face him, noticing the golden lamp he tossed between his hands. Hope burst through your heart. “You found it.”

Minho let his attention wander to the Sahir at your words. He, too, recognized the shiny artifact.

Hyunjin shrugged, tossing it toward an attentive Minho, “Of course I did. Now do with it what you please, we haven’t gotten all day.”

You were too elated by the discovery to question the Sahir’s words or intentions, urging the prince to summon the Marid instead, “Go on, we can save him!”

Minho didn’t think twice before rubbing the side of the lamp, desperate for anything to save his cousin. You watched as smoke swirled out of the mouth of the lamp, circling the air until it formed the torso and the head of a man. Tinged purple, the Marid with great dark hair and golden cuffs bowed to its freer. “Shubbaek Lubbaek. You, who has summoned me, are granted three wishes of your heart’s true desire.”

There was no time to marvel at the magnificence of the magical being, not when Jeongin was dying before the prince’s eyes. He cried to the Marid, “Please, save him! Bring him back to us!”

“Is that your first wish?” The Marid’s voice boomed throughout the cave as though it came from the depths of the ground.

“Yes!”

“Your wish is my command.”

When you looked back at Jeongin, the bleeding cut across his head had disappeared, almost like it never was there. His wounds, gone, and instead of lifeless, he seemed to be peacefully asleep.

You didn’t miss the tears brimming Minho’s eyes as a sigh tangled with a chuckle left his lips, “I-It’s real he’s—!”

Minho halted mid-sentence, letting out a strangled noise as his eyes widened in shock and his world lapsed into eerie silence. His gaze drifted downward slowly until it met the tip of the saif poking out of his chest, scarlet with his blood.

٨

“It has been five days!” Changbin slammed a hand on the table, where many advisors and the Darilmalekan King sat. They were feeding him more empty promises, he knew, and the Tallilmalekan Crown Prince had had quite enough. “Five days and there’s not a single trace of them!”

The King narrowed his eyes. He, too, had enough of your brother’s stubbornness. “We are aware. Our scouts—”

“Your scouts are doing an unsatisfactory job,” Changbin remarked. “They shouldn’t be taking this long to find them.”

“Pardon us, then. This is the most we can do.”

“Fine,” the prince threw his hands in the air, “we’ll be bringing our own forces to search for them.”

The Darilmalekan King sighed, “Please, be reasonable.”

“Reasonable? After your Crown Prince ran away with the Amira? That’s quite ambitious of you to request—”

“Your Highness!” a guard barged into the meeting room, gasping for air. “Apologies, but we’ve received important news.”

“Proceed,” the king nodded to him.

“A traveler claimed to have spotted the crown prince, along with prince Jeongin and the princess in a village in the Isle of the Damned,” he informed, and Changbin hoped he masked his surprise well.

“The Isle of the Damned? Whatever brought them there?” the King questioned. Changbin knew just why.

You were seeking the Sahira’s Heart. He shook his head inwardly, though he couldn’t suppress the faint pride he felt. Never knew you had it in you, little sister.

•؏•

“I’ll take that.” Hyunjin leaned to grab the lamp in Minho’s loose grip before pulling out the saif forcefully and tossing it to the side. That action made the prince double over and almost collapse on Jeongin’s body, had you not caught him in time. It all happened too quickly, and you found yourself lost amid confusion, betrayal, and anger.

Your breaths shook as you felt Minho become weaker in your arms. He tried to push himself up, but his efforts were to no avail. The blood gushing out of the wound was enough to determine his cruel fate.

Your gaze snapped toward the Sahir and you cried in a blur of emotions, “Why would you do that?!”

He gave you a scornful glance, “For what reasons beyond the obvious?”

“You gave him the lamp!”

“You really aren’t as smart as you appear,” he turned to fully face you, and you thought you imagined the sneer of a demon in his face. “Good magic doesn’t respond to us, spawns of the Devil.”

“You—” you paused when you caught Minho’s frail murmur, “Let...me down.”

You could only oblige, even though you didn’t want to let him go. Helping him rest his head on the rocky ground, anger began to invade your heart, stronger than ever.

You stood to face Hyunjin again, and he shook his head at your appearance, “Would you look at yourself...lathered in blood and desperate to kill. When will you learn to stop chasing human desires?”

“What do you want with the lamp? You said it wouldn’t respond to your magic, and the Marid will only listen to its master,” you ignored his question, having grown tired of his cryptic speech. Human desires?

“It wouldn’t respond to my magic if I were to summon the Marid. Fortunately, your fiancé did the job. Manipulation is an easy feat after that.” Hyunjin was apathetic, you’d noticed that days ago, and you’d finally decided you’d had enough of the Sahir. “And?”

“And,” he scowled, “since you’ve broken the Zumurruda, this is my only means of getting what I truly want! Revenge on all those who killed her!”

You raised a brow, “Revenge?”

He seemed to have said something you weren’t supposed to know, but he dismissed it quickly, “It matters not. I was planning to kill the three of you anyway. It’s too bad you had to save the meddling one, but it shouldn’t be too hard to undo your wish.”

“You will not lay a single finger on them,” you warned, eyes beginning to blaze red. The Sahir noticed and shook his head once more, “I truly don’t understand what you want with them. Why are you doing this? Love? You’ve got more power than to care about something so human and weak.”

You didn’t miss the scorn in his tone. He seemed offended, hurt, and you couldn’t tell why. Why would a powerful Sahir have a personal grudge against...love?

Then you remembered his previous remarks. People of this age. It’s the whisper of corruption, bloodlust, hell. Like calls to like...

It seemed like a stray guess, but you blurted, “You’ve lost a lover, haven’t you?”

Hyunjin froze at your words, then his expression darkened as he spat, “I didn’t lose her, they took her from me! They killed her. But I’ve sought the Sahira’s Heart for too long. Nothing you can do will stop me, demon girl. I know all your tricks.”

Too long, his words echoed in your head, and various instances came rushing to you, forming one, big, clue. I know more than you could imagine.

A killed lover, magic, the Devil, and unsettling energy. The strange feeling you’ve had about him. His presence had always felt wrong, off.

Then it clicked.

The charm.

As though responding to your thoughts, a surge of cold magic rushed to your fingertips and you dared to meet the Sahir’s gaze. “You don’t know all my tricks.”

You thrust a hand forward and pulled the precious pendant to yourself. You didn’t know where that power came from, cold in comparison to the burning wrath of your Jinni, but it flowed through your blood with ease. As though it was yours, and you were always meant to have it.

The necklace moved at your will, and with a tug, it snapped from around Hyunjin’s neck and flew into your open hand.

This drew an immediate gasp from the Sahir, who wasted no time to shout, “Give it back!”

You examined the heavy pendant in your hand. It was made of glass, and a strand of hair was trapped inside. You shook your head in disbelief at the discovery. Hyunjin... Prince Hyunjin. The Lost Prince of Tajilmalek…

You looked back at him, “Two hundred years...”

“Return the pendant, or else I’ll have to retrieve it myself,” he threatened, but it didn’t faze you. “You, too, are doing this for love. You’ve been so for two long centuries.”

If the tales were true, then what you held encompassed the Sahir’s soul. It seemed to be, for he was adamant on having it back. You felt some sympathy for him. “You shouldn’t be alive.”

“Drop the pendant,” he enunciated, though his desperation was clawing its way through his words.

Two hundred years of nurturing his anger and despair, of living with the pain of loss. No, you felt great sympathy for him. “You should rest, now.”

“La—!” Hyunjin’s face morphed into an expression of horror and distress, but it was too late. You’d closed your fist on the pendant, and with newfound power, crushed it in your grasp.

A cry that shook the ground left the Sahir as he visibly crumbled before you, delicate features deepening into age worn wrinkles, an elegant figure declining to crookedness, until all what remained of him was a pile of rubble.

You mustered a weak smile, stepping toward the mass and dropping the broken pieces of the pendant over it. “May you find peace.”

Perhaps you should’ve felt some guilt for defeating the Sahir, but any guilt in your heart was not regarding him. You picked up the lamp that fell beside the rubble and shook it, calling, “Ya Marid!”

The Marid materialized before you. “Shubbaek Lubbaek.”

You didn’t spare a moment to plead, gesturing toward the dying prince, “You have to save him!”

“Apologies, for I only grant my master’s wishes.”

“Well, he is your master, and he is dying. If you don’t save him, the wishes will never be said, and you will never be freed!”

The Marid contemplated your words, but it didn’t take long for him to nod in approval, “Very well. You make an excellent plea.”

You assumed that meant the prince was saved, so you rushed to his side. The tinge of blood remained on your hands and you didn’t dare to touch him, resorting to examining his face and asking the Marid, “Is he okay now?”

“He is asleep, as is your friend. They must rest, so do you,” the Marid responded and you shook your head, “I cannot rest. Not now.”

How could you rest after what had happened?

The Marid seemed to think otherwise. He rose in the air, basking the cave in dim violet light. When he spoke, your eyelids began to droop dangerously. “Rest, troubled soul. No harm shall reach you.”

You wanted to argue, but your head felt heavy, and the doors of slumber were wide open for you to give in. A strange sense of peace washed over you, and you knew it was the Marid’s work. Too weak to fight it, you lowered your head to the ground, bloodied attire and limbs, and allowed yourself a short retirement from the chaos of your world. Just that once.

•؏•

You woke to the incessant scratch of metal against rock and low murmuring. You cracked an eye open to spot a figure sitting some distance away, fiddling with a sword. When you pushed yourself up, your muscles cried in excruciation. Only when you felt the stickiness of blood on your hands did you remember the happenings before your slumber. Finding the cave, searching for a magical lamp, fighting bandits, defeating Hyunjin, Minho almost—

“You’re up.”

His voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked up to meet his eyes, sighing in relief when you found him unharmed. A presence within you wasn’t as appreciative of the news. “You’re alive.”

“I am,” the prince looked away, and you didn’t have to follow his gaze to know that it was trailing over the dismembered, disfigured bodies of the victims of your blind rage. Your Jinni’s rage.

The word left your lips before you could process it, “Asifa. I-I lost control.”

“They wanted to kill us,” the prince shook his head, repulsed by the events of the past hours. It felt like a nightmare, from Jeongin’s fatal injury, to you ripping apart anyone within your range, to the sword that stabbed him through the chest, he was unsure how he remained alive. He remembered falling into your arms, and Hyunjin’s voice as he took the lamp from him, but that was all.

He was reluctant to know what happened to the Sahir, but he couldn’t find his body wherever he looked. “What happened to Hyunjin?”

You took moments to answer him, and he knew that was a story you didn’t want to tell. “He’s gone.”

Truth to be said, Minho was not appalled by your actions, for he knew that it wasn’t you. It was yet another day you’d saved him and his cousin with your powers. He couldn’t bring himself to show aversion to the decisions you had to make.

After all, there was no heart in war.

“Where’s Jeongin?” you asked when you noticed that the young royal wasn’t nearby. Minho responded almost immediately, “He went outside for a breath of fresh air.”

A breath of fresh air, of course. Why would anyone in their right mind stay in a cave that felt like death? You sighed, “You should return to the palace.”

“What?” the prince snapped his gaze toward you, both shocked and confused. You took a deep breath and shook your head in dismay, “After what happened, I think...I think it’s best for you and Jeongin to return to the palace.”

“We can’t do that...”

“You were almost killed, Minho!” you couldn’t help your outburst. “I can’t do this knowing that the two of you are in constant danger of death for the sake of breaking a curse.”

“What about you, then?” the prince argued, “You’re in constant danger too.”

“La. You and I are different. I can do this alone.”

“But— we’ve come this far together! We survived all those attacks and we even have the lamp with us!”

“I just don’t want this to happen again,” you gestured at your surroundings, and Minho was quick to assure you, “It won’t happen again.”

He picked up the lamp and placed it before you, holding your gaze firmly when you gave him a dubious look. “We have two wishes left. We finish this now. Together.”

٩

“This is the closest I can take you to the Sahira’s Heart,” the Marid announced after the smoke surrounding the three of you cleared up. You found yourselves standing before an ancient temple, surrounded by the sea on all sides. “The temple is guarded by magic I cannot surpass.”

“Where are we?” Jeongin wondered out loud to be answered by the Marid, “You are on an island south of the Isle of the Damned known as Al Qa’a.”

“This is the place, then,” Minho let out a breath and turned to look at you, taking notice of your silence. His tone dropped many levels gentler. “Ready?”

You took in a breath. This was the place many have died to reach. This was where you would finally regain freedom from your curse. Truthfully, you didn’t know if you were ready. “I think so.”

“You have one wish remaining,” the Marid reminded before slipping back into the lamp Minho had looped through his sheath belt.

The three of you stood still, perhaps waiting, or preparing, to make the first step toward the end of this journey. The prince dared to move forward, but once he did, the ground rumbled and quaked, and you sensed the arrival of something dangerous.

From the sand, two magnificent Afarit emerged. They were unlike the ones you encountered in the palace. Their skin glistened grey, and they were fairly larger in size, but not too tough of a match.

The Darilmalekan royals unsheathed their swords instantly, and a plan had formed in Minho’s head as he examined the monsters. “We’ll hold them back. You slip past them and find the Sahira’s Heart.”

“But don’t you think I should help you instead—” your suggestion was interrupted by a shake of his head, “La. You have to find the Sahira’s Heart and break the curse, not me nor Jeongin. This is your part—”

A howl from one of the Afarit pierced your ears as it brought its axe down on the two of you. You were lucky to dodge the attack, but it was clear the Afarit were not planning to be patient with the three of you. You caught Minho’s shout above the commotion, “Go on! We’ll distract them!”

You knew that every second of hesitation was crucial time wasted, so you ran past the occupied Afarit toward the open doors of the temple. You dared to glance back one last time, finding your fiancé and his cousin true to their promise of holding the Afarit back. You wouldn’t let their efforts fall in vain.

With newfound will, you ran through the open doors into a dark corridor. You saw light on the other side, and you took off running toward it. Exhilaration mixed with hope and pinch of anxiety overwhelmed your mind. Will you find the Sahira’s Heart by the end of the corridor? The end to it all was terrifyingly close.

You reached a roofless clearing where the corridor led. It was empty, and moss had overrun its walls, but all you could see was the stone plinth, and the stone heart resting atop it.

Sounds of the fight outside drowned out as you stepped toward the artifact cautiously. This was the fabled Sahira’s Heart. This held all the corruption on the Isle. This held your family’s curse.

Finally.

You placed your palms on either side of the heart and lifted it, bracing yourself for whatever might happen in the following moments. You’d prepared to do it for countless hours, but breaking the Sahira’s Heart felt unreal when you stood there.

Shutting your thoughts out, you closed your eyes and focused on channeling all your power into the stone, just as you’d practiced under the gaze of the nonchalant moon. You forced it to flow through your fingertips and into the rock heart, then expand and push against the walls of the stone.

It seemed like forever until you heard the first crack, followed by a second and a third, and suddenly, your world exploded into blinding brilliance.

•؏•

Minho knew, he felt it in his heart, when white light exploded from the temple. You’d done it.

The Afarit halted, axes raised, and dropped to the ground lifelessly before disappearing into grains of sand. As though they’d never been there.

The prince sheathed his saif while attempting to calm his erratic breaths. Not too far, his cousin was doubled over a wound on his side, trying to tighten a piece of his attire over it. Minho called over to him, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” came his response. “We should go see y/n!”

And so, the two walked up to the temple and through its long corridor to reach the sunlit chamber, where they found you lying on the ground. Still. Pieces of broken stone lay scattered around you.

Panic rose in Minho’s heart, but it was quickly erased when he noticed the steady rise and fall of your chest. You were alive.

He came to sit beside you, smiling to himself as he murmured, “You’ve done it, Amirati. You really did.”

Jeongin rested a hand on his cousin’s shoulder, “Let’s go home.”

“Right.” Minho reached for the lamp, patting it and watching as the purple smoke swirled in the air to form the Marid’s body. “Shubbaek Lubbaek. Are you ready to make your last wish?”

The prince smiled, “Yes. Take us to the Darilmalekan palace...and let everyone there but us forget we were ever gone.”

“Is that your wish?”

He did not hesitate. “Na’am.”

The Marid bowed his head, and with a wave of his hands, the three of you were engulfed in the same purple smoke. “Your wish is my command.”

After.

“Big day today, eh?” Jeongin stepped up from behind his cousin, who gave him a small grin, “It sure is.”

It was a big day, indeed, for it was the day your caravan from Tallilmalek arrives, after two long months of absence.

When the Marid transported the three of you into the royal garden, you quickly parted ways. With the curse broken, you had to return to Tallilmalek along with your brother. Royals, nobles, and palace staff were confused about your sudden departure, but a scroll from the Tallilmalekan palace was enough justification.

While you were gone, you made sure to keep Minho updated on your state of wellbeing. It was an obligation neither asserted, but both of you committed to. The journey had undoubtedly brought you closer, and being finally free, you thought you must make up for the lost time.

Healing and learning to live without the curse was tough, as you’d written to the prince. Old habits were hard to kill, especially when they’d been the basis of life for your family for decades. But you were getting there, a small step at a time.

Two months later, the Tallilmalekan royal family sent a messenger carrying news that brought life to the palace once more. You were ready to carry on with the wedding.

It was a big day. The kind that made Minho’s heart flutter in excitement and dance in joy. It felt like a Deja Vu, standing in the throne room to welcome you to Darilmalek. Only this time, your arrival carried true promises to be kept.

“Still haughty as ever,” Jeongin commented once the Tallilmalekan King stepped in, followed by you and your brother. Minho rolled his eyes in response, masking a smile, “Shut up.”

Jeongin might’ve been right, your family loved to display their riches, but it wasn’t the jewelry nor the pearls that shone with your entrance. It was the little smile adorning your lips. As gentle as the night breeze, but as breathtaking as a starry sky.

When you came to stand before him, offering your hand, that smile grew, ever so faintly. And that was enough for the prince, who mirrored your expression, only many times brighter. “Welcome back, Amirati.”

•؏•

People do strange things for love...

You stared at your journal, unsure of what to conclude with, when a voice came from behind. “Thought I’d find you here.”

“Minho,” you shut your journal carefully, turning your head to watch as he stepped toward the balustrade, “what are you doing here, up this late?”

“The same question goes to you,” his lips stretched into a soft smile when you came to stand beside him. It was the only time you’d had for yourself that day. Preparations for the wedding were consuming every moment of daylight, from the very second you woke until the blanket of night covered the land. You were lucky to be able to enjoy one last night in the palace garden before the ceremony. “I’m finishing my journal.”

Minho hummed in acknowledgement. You were documenting your journey to the Sahira’s Heart, and all that came after. It was a very confidential journal, as you’d told him, and the prince had long given up on trying to have a peek at it.

A gentle breeze blew past the two of you, complementing the tranquility of the night. A few moments of peace prompted you to speak, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Right,” the prince exhaled quietly as though preparing himself for a speech or an important event of such sort. He turned to face you fully, and only then did you notice the small golden box in his hands. Under the timid shine of the moon, he appeared almost shy. “I have something for you.”

When you gave him a curious look, he placed the case on the balustrade and opened it, clearing his throat, “I know our beginning wasn’t exactly...ideal, and for the longest time, uncontrollable circumstances stood between us.”

“But tomorrow,” he met your gaze, “things...change.”

Your gaze followed his movements attentively, every anxious bite of his lip and fidgety gesture of his hand. A quiet part of you wanted to ease his nervousness, but you were yet to learn how. All you could do was give him an encouraging smile.

But your smile did wonders, as Minho had come to discover, and a bigger smile found home on his lips in turn. The thin thread between nervousness and excitement snapped, and he dared to present to you a gift he’d longed to give. “I just wanted you to know this before our wedding...”

He held a delicate diadem made of gracefully laced strands of gold encircling dainty pearls. Even in the dark of night, its beauty glowed. It brought the stars above to shame.

Your gaze was fixed on him when he placed the circlet on your head and smiled to himself. La, you thought it was his beauty that brought the stars to shame. There, in that fleeting moment, you spotted the gleam of pure joy and adoration in his eyes. It was the most stunning thing you’d ever seen. 

His hands found yours, and with a gentle squeeze, he spoke his promise for the heavens above to hear. “No matter how long it takes you to adjust to this life, I’ll wait for you, my queen. Always.”

People did strange things for love, though I can’t blame them.

In the end, it proved to be worth it.

Al Amira y/n of Tallilmalek.

If you have read this far then you are contractually obligated to tell me your thoughts! Well, not really, but do drop by sometime! Thank you for reading and I hope you have a lovely day! ♡

[interstellarflare]

Bend and Break || Homelander

-PART SIX-

Warnings: Gore, violence, course language, angst.

Summary: People can only bend their morales so far before they break. Homelander is the world’s greatest superhero, and you, a tech analyst, somehow become entangled in his world when he learns that you provide intel to The Boys. He makes it his personal mission to find out exactly what you know, but he never expected such resistance from someone as damaged as you. But broken things can be mended, sometimes in the most unexpected ways possible.

Author’s Note: As a bit of a disclaimer, I have only seen snippets of The Boys. I haven’t actually watched all of it, so forgive me if there are some details that are wrong, as well as the many spelling errors that will undoubtedly be in this series. There is a tag list open for those who wish to be added. I apologise for the long chapters. Gif by @xmichaelmyers​

|PART ONE| |PART TWO| |PART THREE| |PART FOUR| |PART FIVE|

After activating the pager hacking device after you had entered the building, you and Homelander went your seperate ways for the night.

You watched as Madelyn Stillwell hung off of his arm, smiling and pretending that she was actually interested in tonight’s events as Homelander indulged politicians and government officials in small talk. You however, stood in a secluded corner of the room, waiting for your device to break through Vought’s firewalls whilst idly sipping a glass of champagne. You didn’t know how long he had been there, but Black Noir stood by your side, his arms folded over his armoured chest as his suit blended perfectly with the shadows to your right.

You were growing more anxious as time went by. You expected to hear a small beeping noise when your device had finished its task, but the growing fear that the device wouldn’t work caused your palms to become increasingly sweaty. You loosed a shaky breath, taking a small sip of the champagne in your grasp. You found small comfort in the fact that Noir was by your side, grateful that at least someone else knew what you were up to.

From your position in the corner, you could hear various topics of conversation. However, the majority of them were about you. ‘Who was that woman with him?’ You heard someone question, that someone turning out to be the wife of the Secretary of Defence. ‘Who is she? I don’t think I’ve seen her around before’. ‘Her dress is beautiful, no wonder Homelander chose to escort her inside’. ‘He was probably being nice, she doesn’t really belong here’. You felt Noir step out of the shadows and move to your side, his arm brushing against yours as he stood defensive and tall. As soon as he appeared, the conversations about you stopped, everyone averting their gaze to anywhere else in the room but towards you and the Supe. No doubt he would have heard all of the negative chatter his stern stance giving off a pissed off vibe loud and clear.

“Is it normal for you to intimidate people who piss you off?” You asked teasingly, a smirk growing on your lips as you finished the last of the champagne. Noir nodded wordlessly, his helmeted gaze not leaving the gathered congregation before him. You rolled your eyes, laughing quietly as you anxiously peered down at the clutch in your other hand. Still nothing. You huffed through your nose, your anxiety being replaced with frustration. What if all of this was for nothing? What of at the end of the night, the device didn’t go off. What then?

Slow music began to play, a choir of violinists, cellos and various other instruments beginning a long classical piece which you knew would likely last the entire night. “Excuse me, can I have a word?” A toxically sweet voice spoke softly, causing you to turn your gaze and meet the emerald eyes of the blood red reporter from earlier. She smiled a viper’s grin, her eyes turning a shade darker as she towered over over your smaller frame. You blinked in surprise and confusion, unsure as to why this woman was even speaking to you. As if sensing your confusion, her grin widened “I only want to interview you in regards to your entrance with The Homelander himself, it was quite spectacular I have to say”. You laughed breathlessly, unsure of what to do or say. So you shrugged your shoulders “Oh, uh, thank you? To be honest it wasn’t really that-”

“Tell me, is there a secret relationship going on between the two of you behind closed doors?” She pried, her question catching you off guard. You choked, shaking your head in disbelief “I’m sorry? I don’t think I understand” You spoke lowly, standing as tall as your heels would allow. The reporter smirked evilly, knowing that she had gotten under your skin. She stepped closer toward you intimidatingly close with her hands propped on her hips. “Well one would assume that something was going was going on between you two with the way he escorted you inside” She spoke lazily, staring down at you with a bored expression “everyone has been talking about it, you know”.

Your eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare, one that even made the Supe at your side flinch with how much hatred and ice radiated from your form. “He was just being chivalrous-” “Oh, I’m sure he was...” The reporter interrupted sarcastically, picking at her red painted nails through her hooded eyelashes “then again, why else would he associate with someone as dull and uninteresting as you? I mean, look at you. You don’t fit in here, you’re hiding in a corner for gods sake...”

Dull and uninteresting...is that how people saw you?

You tried to maintain your composure, you tried not to take the bitch’s words to heart. But why did they hurt so much?

Dull and uninteresting, boring and plain. You averted your gaze from the reporter’s and casted your eyes across the room. Where your eyes met his. And you knew. You knew Homelander had been listening, given by the stern and unreadable expression on his face. Damn his superhuman hearing, damn him to hell. You could feel him staring after you as you weaved your way through the dancing crowd. You could feel him staring after you as you climbed the main marble staircase, disappearing down the hall and onto a stone balcony. You leaned against the balcony, breathing deeply to try and prevent the tears in your eyes falling.

Why were you hurt so much by this? What did it matter what people thought about you? Why did it matter what he thought about you?

Why? Why did it matter?

It was peaceful out on the balcony, the noise of the Gala inside was nothing but distant rumbles. The music still clear as day. A gentle but cool breeze caressed your skin, brushing strands of your hair out of its well-kept do. Footsteps echoed on the balcony. They were heavy, but taken in a stride that was light and cautious. You didn’t have to turn around to know who was standing behind you.

“Do you think I’m dull and uninteresting?” You asked him, keeping your gaze ahead and on the night cityscape before you. You heard Homelander sigh, but he made no attempt top move toward you. When no answer came, your chest tightened painfully. Of course, he thought you were dull. Of course, he thought you were uninteresting. He was The Homelander. And you...you were just a nobody.

“It’s John...” You heard him sigh out lowly, his tone of voice showing no sign of teasing or malice. With your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you spun to face The Worlds Greatest Superhero with an expression of pure bewilderment. “What?”.

Homelander chuckled, a genuine sound resonating from deep within him as he stepped toward you, his cape billowing slightly in the wind. “Yesterday...” He began, standing beside you and leaning his hands against the stone railing “you asked if I had another name Homelander, otherwise you were going to call me prick or arsehole. My name is John”. You laughed lowly, nodding your head as you leaned back against the railing with an amused smile. So he did have a name. “It suits you” You responded, looking over at him with a soft smile. John nodded, giving you the same smile in return. “And you know what, any woman that can speak to me with such sarcasm, wit, and foul language, and live to tell the tale, is definitely interesting in my eyes”.

Your laughter echoed out from the balcony and across the city. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. It wasn’t like the small sarcastic chuckles, or the amused scoffs you would always give him. This was genuine, this was pure. And he loved every second of it. But why? Why did he enjoy your laugh? Why did he long to see you smile, why did he long to always see you as happy as you were now? You turned to face him again, the frown on your face now non-existent as you grinned. “You know, this is why I don’t leave my apartment” You joked lightly, causing the Supe beside you to scoff. “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear anything other than an oversized shirt and sweatpants” He teased, shying away slightly as you lightly slapped his shoulder. He laughed as you pouted, folding your arms over your chest as your eyebrows furrowed.

The music from downstairs floated up on a graceful wind, a slow waltzing piece that would have no doubt been played at a dozen luxurious events prior to this one. John stood up from his position by the balcony, moving to stand in front of you with a soft smile. “Dance with me” he spoke suddenly, holding his gloved hand towards you with a smirk tugging at his lips. Your expression became more confused as you looked up at him with an expression that couldn’t have been more confused if you tried. “What? You want to dance with me?”.

“Why not? It’s a Gala, we might as well” John tried to reason, rolling his eyes as you laughed loudly once again. Placing your clutch carefully on the balcony, you shook your head slowly as you placed your hand into his own. He immediately pulled you close, wrapping one arm securely around your waist, and intertwining his other with yours. The two of you began to sway slowly, your cheeks flushing a bright red at the amount of limited space between you. Your heart was beating so loud, that you were sure the man before you could hear your heart beating wildly in your chest without his superhuman hearing. The thought alone caused your stomach to flutter. Pushing down your nerves, you forced yourself to look up, and almost fell apart. John was staring down at you with an expression you couldn’t read. No one had ever looked at you like that before, with such emotion, with such raw-

Pain...there was so much pain.

For a split second, you couldn’t breath. The air was taken from your lungs as John flinched, his grip on your form tightening as his eyes widened in pure horror. Blood splattered the front of his uniform, tiny horrifying droplets coating his skin. A strange warmth suddenly spread over your chest, a deep rumbling cough caused the pain to increase. Blood dribbled from your mouth, your blood. You collapsed forward, the world suddenly spinning in dizzying stars. The ringing in your ears became louder and louder, drowning out the terror-filled shouts from downstairs, and John’s frantic cries. You could make out your name on his lips, his arms wrapping around your form as he lowered you to the ground. You were scared, terrified. What happened? 

You suddenly felt tired, your eyes becoming heavier with every second that passed. It was cold, so very cold. Everything suddenly became numb, consumed by the agony and pain that everything slowly began to fade. You never saw the figure emerge from the doorway, you never heard what John said to that blurry image of a man.

But the last thing you saw was his furious expression. His blue eyes glowing a bright red in rage, hatred, and pure madness.

Tag List: @lauraaan182 @tardis-23 @freshmakertaco @shilsvampsinger @cynthianokamaria  @delicatetimetravelarcade @coloursunlimited @clean-soap @themarch-oftheblackqueen @soft-hargreeves @kennedywxlsh​ @itskatrinahere​

[sisterofsomeone]

Happy Birthday Noya

- Yu Nishinoya x fem reader, no warnings, fluffy and cute! Small references to making babies but nothing detailed, enjoy!

———————

“Noya?” You said tugging on the older boy’s shirt.

“Yeah y/n?”

“Do you really mean it? Like, pinky promise mean it?” He laughed and ruffled your hair.

“Of course I mean it! I’ll marry you when we’re all grown up and we’ll have a proper family together. We’ll have a big house and loads of animals and we can travel together and laugh and dance all the time!” He clasped your smaller hands in his and locked your gaze. His eyes sparkled and your heart sped up in your chest.

“I’ll be with you forever y/n!”

———————

That was ten years ago now and you hadn’t spoken to the libero in almost three years. He was a year your senior in school, and when he’d moved from junior high to high school his devotion to volleyball and his beloved Kiyoko drew his attention away from you for long enough that you just dissolved from his view. You weren’t close anymore, and he’d stopped proposing marriage to you when he’d turned twelve and learnt how babies were made, suddenly the promise of having children with you one day was a bit too much for his brain to handle. You’d promised yourself that you would move on too like he had, but no one could ever hold a candle to your Noya.

“Y/n!” Your best friend Yachi was waving her hand in your face as you gazed out of the window in a day dream. You were abruptly brought back to reality as she giggled softly.

“God you are all over the place today! What’s up?” She seemed concerned but masked it with a friendly smile.

“Nothing really, it’s just...” you sighed placing your chin in your hand and leaning on the table in front of you.

“I didn’t realise Nishinoya’s birthday affected you this much y/n.” Just hearing his name sent tears to your eyes, and you tried to blink them away before Yachi saw but it was no use.

“Oh y/n, you really miss him don’t you?” That’s all it took for you to break down at your desk. You really did miss that boy. Yachi pulled you to the girls toilet by your classroom and helped wipe your tears away and blot away the redness from your cheeks. You were thankful to have her in your life. She was the only one who knew about your past with him and the only one who’d you’d felt comfortable enough with to confide in about your love for Noya.

“You could always come to practise tonight and see him again?” She kept trying to get you to go to practise with her after school ever since she became the club manager. You’d met some of the first years, namely Kageyama and Hinata, but you would just feel way too awkward.

“No that’s such a bad idea. One, I have no reason to be there, and two he wouldn’t even remember me.” She scoffed at you and rolled her eyes.

“I can say you’re waiting for me because we have a project or we’re walking home together, and he’ll totally remember you. You’re gonna get married remember?” She teased, poking you in the sides until you let a giggle escape your lips. You tried pushing her hands away but it was no use, she’d gotten you to laugh so loudly that a teacher had to come in and tell you two to shut it and get back to class. You did as you were told, and both hurried back to class, but not before Yachi got you to promise to go to practise with her after school.

———————

You knew this was a bad idea, and that was only reinforced when Yachi pulled you into the gym and had all the players greet you. You smiled and said hi back but it was obvious you were uncomfortable. In the end though they didn’t even ask why you were there and the coach didn’t seem to mind so you just took a seat on the edge of the bench and watched.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Noya, you hadn’t even been able to say hi to him when you’d walked in behind Yachi, not that he’d even came over to say hi anyway. You were fiddling with your hands when you heard a familiar voice shouting your name.

“Y/n! Hey!” You looked to see Hinata waving at you as he rushed in late to practise.

“What are you doing here?” He offered you a smile and you gave him one right back.

“O-oh, I’m just waiting for Yachi. I’m staying at hers tonight.” He nodded and waved to Yachi.

“That’s cool! You said hey to Noya yet? I’m sure-“ He was interrupted by a volleyball to the back of the head and an icy glare from Asahi, silently telling him to back off. You went a little pale when he said Noya’s name but tried to act as calmly as possible. He ran off, throwing an apology Noya’s way and just shrugged at Kageyama when he asked him how he was so stupid. Yachi nudged you and smiled.

“Nishinoya is blushing right now.” You dared a peak over at the boy and sure enough he was. Kiyoko was slightly giggling beside you and there was an air of nervousness flowing through the boys. You felt as though just being there was making things way too tense, so you made an excuse and left despite Yachi begging you not to.

Stepping outside into the cold fresh air of October was relaxing. You’d always liked the colder months, being able to wrap yourself in layer upon layer. It was also an excuse to bring out the old scarf Noya gave you as a present when you two were younger.

“You still have that old thing?”

You were frozen in place, your hand reaching up to the scarf around your neck.

“Wow, I’m impressed. Thought you would have thrown that out years ago.” He chuckled next to you, the sound sending you hurtling back to your childhood together.

“Hey Noya.” It came out as barely a whisper, but he heard you.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” He was fidgeting next to you, obviously uncomfortable with your presence.

“Look I’m so sorry for coming I-“ you stopped talking when you turned to face him and saw the rosey blush dusting his cheeks and the smile playing on his lips.

“Happy birthday.” He looked startled for a second, but his eyes softened into your gaze.

“You remembered?” Nodding eagerly you smiled back at him.

“I always remember, every year.” He let out a sigh and dropped his gaze to the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

“I’m really sorry for disappearing on you y/n. I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

“Oh, thanks. I mean, you were growing up and needed space. I get that.”

“But I didn’t want space from you. I still don’t. I just thought...” he sighed and kicked the ground again, his voice shaken.

“I thought you’d be happier with your friends in your own year. That I wasn’t fun for you anymore, that you didn’t enjoy my company.” In that moment you realised he hadn’t dropped you because he’d moved on, but the opposite. He’d felt that he wasn’t good enough for you.

“Noya.” Your voice was louder this time, but soft and warm. He raised his eyes back up to meet yours. The soft hazel seemingly melting under your gaze.

“How could I hate the company of the man I’m gonna marry?” You smiled at this, a playful lilt in your words. He blushed at you and a smile broke out across his whole face.

“To be honest y/n, when I found out how babies were made I kind of freaked out.” He playfully joked back, but there was a sense of vulnerability to him.

“Oh god, don’t remind me! When I found out my dad wouldn’t stop going on about how ‘Noya will never do that to his baby girl’” you laughed placing a hand on his arm for support. This was nice.

“Your dad actually asked me to stop talking about marrying you, you know? Said I was gonna stop you from living your life.” Your laughter stopped and you looked up at the libero. “He said I wouldn’t let you meet new people if I kept telling you that we were gonna get married, that you would get too attached and wouldn’t make choices for yourself.”

“He what?” Your voice was harsher now, the anger prevalent in your tone.

“He was just trying to protect you y/n, that’s all.” He raised an eyebrow at your sudden outburst and you felt silly all of a sudden.

“But, if he hadn’t of told me to back off, I’m sure I would have brought you a ring by now.” This caught you totally off guard. Noya had always joked about buying you an engagement ring, but the way he was saying it now you could tell there was no way he was joking.

“I really miss you y/n. I’m still up for marrying you, if you’ll have me?” You blinked at him, his cheeks now burning red and his ears turning a deep shade of pink. This was really happening.

You let out a soft hum and pretended to be lost in thought for a moment before placing a swift kiss on his cheek. His hand flew up to the spot and he stared at you with a mix of bewilderment and pure joy.

“Maybe we should go on a date first before we start picking out the baby names?” He smiled at this and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“I’m so okay with that y/n.” He leant in, his nose brushing against yours, silently asking for your permission. You nodded and his lips met yours. He was much softer and calmer than you’d imagined, but it still set fireworks off in your brain. He pulled back after a few moments, his smile wide and eyes sparkling like they did all those years ago.

“You promise you want me? Like pinky promise mean it?” He pulled you impossibly closer to his chest and kissed you again, and that’s exactly the response you needed to calm your nerves.

[simpingforwomen]

Dead Girl Walking

[smut] [jd x veronica] [musical] [based off of the Enter Stage Left version on YouTube Dead Girl Walking] _____________________

Veronica, sweating in anticipation, finally gets open JD's window. She climbs through, yelping as her hair gets stuck in the windowsill.

She yanks her brown curls out and swiftly pulls her other leg over, entering the room. She quickly takes in her surroundings: a large, grey room set in white marble flooring with nothing but a glass desk, a wooden dresser, and a bed- jackpot.

JD, previously peacefully asleep, suddenly awakens at the noise, shooting straight up from his sleeping position. His confused eyes land on Veronica, squinting, processing her.

"Veronica? What are you doing in my room-"

Veronica sprints quietly over to him, covering his mouth with her hand so he doesn't wake his dad up. She feels his warm, slightly chapped, pulsating lips on her skin as she presses her shaking fingers to keep him quiet.

"Shhhhhhh!!!" Veronica hushes loudly, laughing maniacally as she looks at the boy.

JD raises an eyebrow in amusement, taking in the girl he shared a slushie with earlier. Her knee high blue socks, white Oxford saddle shoes, grey skirt, and blue blazer look dirty, or disheveled. What happened to the powerful girl who was the talk of the school?

Is she drunk?

Veronica stares directly into his sable coloured eyes, determination glinting in hers almost like a physical reflection. "Sorry, but I really had to wake you," she says, slurring her words, confidence in her voice as she slowly releases her hand from his mouth, now a bit of JD's saliva on her palm. "But I need it to be just you and me tonight."

JD's eyes turn from confusion to amusement. He eyebrows remain furrowed, and he tilts his head ever so slightly in curiosity of Veronica, licking his lips slowly. He studies her, squinting his eyes as he decides what to do in this situation.

You do not know what you're getting yourself into, darling.

Veronica carelessly climbs on the queen sized bed, her knees sinking into the memory foam mattress. She wraps her thighs around JD's waist, her body on top of his black sweatpants, her bare thighs rubbing against the rough cotton. The bright moonlight seeping through the windowpanes luminously shines on his shirtless torso, causing Veronica to fail to pull her eyes away from his sparkling bare chest.

"You look like Edward Cullen," she laughs drunkenly, tilting her head slightly as she makes an allusion to the infamous Twilight vampire.

JD laughs, his attention piqued. "Okay."

Veronica seems to ponder for a minute, biting her bottom lip while pouting and blowing air, causing her bangs to blow around. She quickly shakes her head, giggling. "I got off topic. Your chest is just so sparkly!" Veronica stares longingly at JD's shining chest.

"No! Veronica! Focus!" She breaks her eye contact with his glimmering skin and scolds herself as JD simply watches, him solely entertained.

I'm a dead girl walking," Veronica changes the subject. "My life will be over tomorrow."

JD raises a single eyebrow as Veronica leans in and places drunk, wet kisses all over JD's porcelain face- his thin lips, cheek, outer corner of his mouth, nose.

He continues to cock his head to the side, a small smirk dancing on his lips. Pure amusement floods JD as Veronica sloppily kisses him. Her complete vulnerability and susceptibleness interests him, his attention now entirely focused on her. His conscience nags at him, telling him he needs to warn her, but he pushes his inner voice away, letting it play only in his head as he disregards any principles he previously held.

I suggest you leave immediately.

Veronica slowly inches her face close to JD's, her hot breath emitting the scent of blueberry vodka tingling him. She glowers, her face suddenly almost mournful. "The world outside is cold, and hurtful. But in here... it can be beautiful." Her morose expression quickly flits to a more hopeful, happy one: "Can you make it beautiful?"

JD slyly scoffs, his smirk growing. Veronica's utter obliviousness renders it difficult for him to not break out in laughter in utter bewilderment.

"Sure."

If that's what you want to believe, I'm not going to tell you otherwise.

He runs his slender fingers through his thick, dark, yet soft locks as he nods, trying not to burst out in laughter at her childlike innocence. He rolls his lips into his mouth, nodding in affirmation, as he listens to Veronica talk about making it beautiful as if she is a kid telling her father what happened at school that day.

His eyes focus on Veronica's as he reaches his arm, light reflecting off of it as if he applied lotion, and softly caresses Veronica's cheek with his thumb, entirely captivated at her lack of knowledge on what is happening.

It's adorable that you're missing all of the red flags. You're cute. I'm gonna keep you.

Veronica's breath hitches as JD touches her- she was doing all of the touching, and now he finally touched her. Her heart races rapidly in her chest, her mocha coloured eyes fixed on JD's.

"Let's make this beautiful," Veronica asks, waiting for JD to agree. Her puppy dog eyes bare into JD's soul as she looks at him, begging.

He licks his bottom lip.

Oh, honey, you really shouldn't tease me.

"That works for me," JD chuckles darkly, hoping Veronica didn't notice his sinister tone of voice, and both him and Veronica dive into each other, their mouths smashing against the other's, both fighting for dominance.

In not even a second, JD quickly overpowers Veronica. He roughly and passionately explores her mouth, the taste of alcohol burning his senses while Veronica tries, and fails, to match his fast pace. JD's hands slowly travel to Veronica's waist as he tightly and possessively pulls her into him more, her body riding his waist as he fails to loosen his grip even slightly.

Veronica suddenly breaks the kiss, causing JD tilt his head back in frustration and groan slightly in annoyance. She huffs as she uses all her barely existent strength and puts her hands on JD's hard chest to force him down, who gives into her push and lets his head fall on his pillow, his annoyance diminished, now solely entertained.

"I think you tore my mattress," he chuckles, amused at the try-hard dominance that Veronica is exhibiting. His eyes flicker in more entertainment as he watches Veronica's fingers aggressively undo her buttons of her blazer and tear it off of herself, throwing it onto the floor, leaving her just in her blue socks, crinkled grey skirt, and lacy black bralette.

"You won't get any sleep tonight," Veronica says to JD, confidence filling in her voice as she looks proudly down at him, as if she is in full control of the situation.

JD, making no effort to get up, raises his eyebrows. "Oh, really?" His attempts to keep his laughs held back fail as he chuckles again. If anyone isn't going to get sleep tonight, it's going to be Veronica, not him. But he isn't going to tell her that and break the force field in her mind of her being the one in power.

"Let's break your bed," Veronica shouts at JD, her words mixing together.

JD slowly rises upwards, meeting her chest with his. "Okay, okay," he laughs strongly and confidently, merely amused.

Cute that you think you're the one in charge.

I don't want to feel anymore," Veronica admits, bringing the conversation to a slightly deeper topic, as she forcefully yanks JD to her.

JD bites the inside of his cheek, trying to keep himself from saying, Yeah, well you'll definitely feel something tonight. 

Veronica releases her grip on him and moves her mouth to his neck, causing him to have to stifle a laugh as her soft lips press lightly on his skin, leaving small butterfly-like tingles.

Honey, you have absolutely no idea how insane, sick, and twisted I am. And you're kissing my neck?

JD laughs as he moves a hand to Veronica's head, firmly but gently keeping her face buried in his neck. It tickles him, but also ignites his senses, giving him slight pleasure, along with the emotional amusement he is getting by watching Veronica think she's in charge.

"Gentle, hun. Don't hurt yourself," he says, chuckling.

Veronica softly leaves a trail of kisses on the other side of JD's neck as he stays quiet and smirks, merely entertained.

Veronica's soft kisses linger on his skin as she pulls back to face JD again. "What now?"

She was letting him take charge? Good. He's been in charge the entire time, at least now she realizes it. 

"Get off of me, darling," JD says smoothly, entertained, as he motions for her to lie down and let him take control. 

Veronica stops for a second, unsure. This causes JD to snicker as he watches her falter.

Thoughts race in Veronica's head as she fights herself, hesitant and uncertain of what she should do.

Her mind is soon made up as she gives into JD's orders.

"Okay," Veronica asks weakly, suddenly becoming more timid, the powerful side of her now nowhere to be seen. 

JD smirks. He broke her. The strong, dominant girl that walked in ten minutes ago now is whimpering under his finger. Forget letting her think she's in charge. She needs to know he was the one controlling this, and has been from the start.

"You'll get it hard."

JD closes his eyes and leans down into Veronica's chest. He forcefully and lustfully bites the top of her breast, closing his eyes, while his hands travel to her milky white thighs, running them up and down her soft legs. His coarse hands against her satin skin feel right, like this is where they should be.

"Wait! Wait!"

JD immediately stops what he is doing as soon as he hears her protests, looking up into her now frightened eyes.

"What," he says, his voice low. He waits impatiently, no response coming from Veronica, who opens her mouth, but cannot seem to form a sentence.

It clicks. JD laughs as he figures it out, even more amused. "You're a virgin?" 

This just keeps getting better and better.

Veronica looks away, blushing. She tries to wiggle out from under him. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea-"

JD pins her down even tighter. "Hey. Look at me. You're okay," he says, looking into her eyes. As soon as Veronica's heartbeat slows down even slightly, and she calms down; he leans into her neck, placing passionate but gentle kisses on it. 

Veronica tenses up, a small whimper escaping her mouth.

"All I'm doing is kissing your neck, and you're whimpering," JD says, amused.

_____________________________

JD spoons a sleeping Veronica in his arms, her cuddled up under him, her legs intertwined with his. He ever so gently runs his fingers through her hair as he holds her tightly to him, recalling the events of the past night.

He feels badly that she was in pain- that's not at all his goal- but he made sure she felt pleasure, too- what he DID want her to feel.

JD also is annoyed that she doesn't feel entirely safe with him- she is definitely more afraid of him than he wanted her to be. Slight respect is good, absolute fear- like the kind that was in her eyes when she thought he was going to hit her- is not good.

The rising sun's iridescent rays start to seep through JD's window, glistening on Veronica's body. JD takes the opportunity to inspect her to see what the damage from last night was. He winces when he sees bruises don't just line places he intended to mark- her neck and chest-  but the rest of her body he had no intention of harming- her wrists, arms, honestly, every part of her body. He needs to be gentler, treat her softly. She needs to be protected.

JD caresses Veronica's face, whispering, "Everyone who hurts you will die." 

[absolutehysteria]

I love your headcanons! You’ve really taken the time to analyze Rufus, so I’m curious to know, what do you think it would take to get him to open up to someone, whether they’re a lover or a friend? He seems rather closed off to others.

Okay, so yes. He is definitely closed off. He grew up left alone. No other (legit) siblings to play or interact with. I imagine his mother died when he was still pretty young. His dad was an asshole. He didn’t have anyone he could rely on or confide in. 

So, when he gets into that very first relationship, he falls hard. He finally receives the attention and affection he’s craved for so long. They listen to him intently. They come to his every beck and call. They give him whatever he wants. And in return, he gives them whatever they want. 

Until he gets burned. Bad.

There was no real love. They were simply using him. But for what? Fame? Money? Sex? Blackmail? All of the above?

It’s a tough lesson, but he learns from it. The walls go up. He becomes cold. Arrogant. He becomes the Rufus Shinra we all know and love. I’m not saying this is the sole reason he’s like this, but it plays a part.

Any relationships or encounters after that are loveless and fleeting. He will use them before they can use him. It’s a game now and, spoiler alert, Rufus wins every time. He leaves behind him a wake of tears and heartache and angry tirades via voicemail that he laughs at before deleting. 

But deep down, beneath that hard, brutal exterior, he longs for a genuine connection. He thinks he’s better off alone, but he’s desperately wanting on the inside.

He wants someone he can rely on. He wants someone he can trust in. He wants someone that will actually listen and pay attention. There are all these rumors that swirl around him, he has a reputation, and he won’t refute any of it. Either because it’s true or he can leverage it to his benefit or it’s so absurdly laughable. That fun little line in OG about nobody’s ever seen him bleed or cry? That’s his favorite because it’s so ridiculous. Who doesn’t bleed or cry?

But with all that said, the best way for someone to get close to him and have him open up is to see past all of that. To see that underneath it all he just really needs a fucking hug. He just wants a fucking hug, okay?

We all know Rufus wears a ton of layers and it’s annoying because he’s hot and we want to see more of him, right? We were lucky in Remake they swapped out his turtleneck to a button-up shirt and tie or we wouldn’t have even seen his neck. I don’t think it’s purely for design aesthetic. I think it’s a metaphor to say that Rufus literally has so many layers to him as a person but most don’t look past the first layer of cold, arrogant, bastard. 

Oh! And I kept thinking about this scene from TKAA the entire time. Kyrie just showed up to find Evan with Rufus. She’s immediately entranced by him:

“Is it the stigma?” I heard Kyrie ask behind me. I turned to find her crouched down in front of Rufus, peering at him with concern. Her hand was on his knee. 

I didn’t care for this. Uh, Kyrie, what’re you doing?

“Does it hurt?”

“Occasionally,” Rufus answered, meeting her gaze.

“He deserves it,” I broke in.

“Evan!” Kyrie frowned at me. “Would you say that about Bits, too?”

I felt like I could hear Rufus’s silent laughter. Pathetic.

A few moments later, after some shit goes down, we get this scene next:

“Kyrie? Is that your name?” said Rufus, still looking down at the scene below. 

“Kyrie Canaan,” she replied with some bewilderment.

“There’s a gun in the pocket of my robe. Take it.”

Rufus lets Kyrie reach into HIS FUCKING ROBE POCKET AND GRAB HIS GUN. He also lets her know there are spare clips in the back. Rufus is helping to protect them when they leave town later, but he warns them he might not be so indulgent next time, even if he and Evan are family. 

Later, Kyrie won’t shut up about Rufus to Evan: 

“Got to admit, Rufus Shinra was the real deal. Mastery to spare. We’ll have to stop calling him Doofus.”

“Yeah. Can’t compete.”

“Mm-hmm. Really smart, and I’ve never met anyone so self-possessed. Like nothing could ever faze him. Good-looking, too, and he actually seems to have a kind heart. The perfect man, really.”

Damn, Kyrie. She’s all of us, right? But my point being, she showed him just the smallest bit of genuine kindness and he paid attention to her name and was kind back to her. Whereas he spent the rest of his time taunting Evan who he knew didn’t care much for him. Y’all picking up what I’m laying down?

Shit, and I mentioned this in another post, but Kyrie calls Reno later to invite him and the other Turks and Rufus to Evan’s birthday party. Rufus calls her back, personally, to tell her he won’t be there because he has better things to do. LOL. C’mon now. He has better things to do, but he takes the time to return her phone call, a person he only met once.

We see you, Rufus. We see you. 

[luescris]

I’m Back (ToA:Wizards)

In which Jim comes home to his mother and thus feelings and emotions ensue. Enjoy some comfort/fluff/and maybe a slight bit of hurt????? Maybe. :P ----------------------------------------

Jim Lake Jr. walked through the forest of Arcadia, footsteps lighter than they have ever been in a long while. His hand gripped tightly to his girlfriend’s, Claire Nunez, and the quiet mumbling of conversation bubbling around him as his friends walked with him filled him with ease. He felt beyond exhausted, but also joyous and filled with such happiness he could barely contain himself. Every time he snuck a glance at Claire, or at Toby, or anyone else he couldn’t help but to smile. They all had once again survived a long, drawn out battle that would determine the fate of the world, and they had all gotten out okay. For the thousandth time that day, he looked down at his hand in pure awe, turning it over to watch the shade of the leaves crawl over the pink-ish flesh.

Human flesh. Instead of rock solid blue skin. He was human again.

Apparently, his actions weren’t going unnoticed, because Claire quietly giggled beside him, snapping him out of his thoughts. “What?” He asked, turning to look at her with a sheepish smile.

She laughed again, shaking her head at him. “You’ve been staring at your hand the entire time we’ve been walking, Jim. I’ll admit the look on your face is cute, but eventually you’ll get tired of it.” “I haven’t been staring at it the entire time.” Jim retaliated, rolling his head to the side with a playful smirk. “Plus, how would you feel if you think you lost your humanity forever, only for it to come back when you least expect it?”

He meant it as a joke, but he saw the twinkle in her eyes turn sad, and her smile fell just a tiny bit as she turned away. Guilt quickly washed over him and he tried to correct himself, but then something warm touched his skin. Pain. Unbearable pain washed over his body and he could barely hear his own roar in his ears. Claire was calling his name and he tried to reach out but-

“Master Jim?”

Jim blinked, finding that he had been staring down at the ground the past few seconds, heart pounding a bit too fast. He realized he was staring at the grass in front of him, the safe shadows of the trees forming a line right where the tips of his shoes stopped. He looked up slowly, squinting as his eyes looked up at the sky above him. He blinked a couple of times, calming himself as his vision cleared. He hasn’t been in sunlight for months.

He felt eyes on his backside and turned, noticing that everyone was watching him with concern. It had taken him a moment to realize Blinky had called his name. Claire had her hand on his arm for support, and he took a deep breath, turning back to the world beyond him.

“Sorry,” He apologized, scratching at the back of his neck (which had no fur or scruff or anything trying to hide in it, his thoughts reminded him). “I-It’s just.. I-I haven’t been in the sun for a while, so..”

“We know, Jim,” Blinky murmured, and Jim felt one of his hands rest on his shoulder. “Take all the time that you need. Unfortunately, Arrrgh and I cannot journey further with you. We will head another way, and meet you at your home at night fall.”

The Trollhunter smiled, and placed his own hand over his mentors’ as he turned to give a smile. “See you there.” Blinky smiled back, and nodded once, patting the boy’s shoulder before turning away, Arrrgh following behind with a wave. “See you soon, Wingman! Be safe!” Toby called after them, waving back ecstatically with Steve.

“Come on, Jim.” Jim startled when Claire took his hand, gently pulling with an encouraging smile as she walked forward into the sunlight. He met her big, beautiful brown eyes that sparkled with stars. “Your mom’s waiting for you to come home.”

Mom… His thoughts practically breathed.

Almost on command, he moved forward slowly, gripping her hand and grimacing, preparing for the worst as he was brought into the sunlight. But instead of pain, he felt warmth, soothing and comforting him as if the world itself was welcoming him home. When it hit his face, it took everything in him not to start crying, eyes stinging as he stood there, staring up at the sky with awe, fully submerged. Oh how he missed this…

A grin spread across his face, and a laugh escaped his lips as he rose his arms up in the air and turned a circle, relishing the feeling. Once he had his full, he wrapped Claire up in a hug and kissed her forehead happily, hearing her own laughter mingle with his. “Oh man I can’t wait to see mom again!!” He cried after letting her go, sprinting a few steps forward to watch as the cars in the distance zoomed by. “I can’t wait to eat real food, o-or heck, to even go to school!” He turned to his friends with that same grin. “Who knew someone could miss school twice?!”

“Not me, that’s for sure.” Steve answered, seeming perplexed. “And-wait, what does he mean by twice?” “Long story Steve,” Toby quipped, patting the blonde’s arm fondly as he walked up to Jim’s side. “We’ll tell you some other time maybe.”

Jim placed a hand on his best friend’s shoulder when he had reached him, giving him a knowing look. “Hey Tobes, how about we race to the bridge?”

“A-a race? I don’t think I can--”

“Last one there is a rotten egg!!” Claire declared, running past the two before Toby could finish his sentence, not even looking back to see the looks on their faces.

Jim quickly followed her, his grin as wide as ever, Toby calling after them to wait up as he also ran after the two, Steve right on his tail and gaining quickly. “Oh come on guys, no fair! You know I have stubby legs!”

ᓟᓟᓟᓟ૦ᓟᓟᓟᓟ

Okay Jim. It’s okay. Just knock on the door and everything will go smoothly. Certainly. He had been staring at the front door of his house for a good few seconds now, Claire and Toby standing right next to him, watching intensely. Steve had made his own way home, bidding the others farewell and walking down the street with a proud strut to his step. Worries ran through Jim’s head, worries of what will she say?? What will she do?? Does she even remember what I look like now? I mean I’ve been gone so long and--

Stop that. His voice of reasoning scolded. Of course she remembers you. It’s not like you disappeared forever. Jim sighed, dropping his hand that had been raised the entire time he had been standing there, eyes closed. “Claire, Toby,” He turned to his closest friends, not meeting their gazes at first. “I appreciate you being here with me for everything, no matter what it is. I couldn’t ask for better friends. But..” He turned sheepish, looking up at them through his strands of hair. “I think I might need to do this one thing alone, if you don’t mind..”

“Oh, of course, Jimbo. No problem!” Toby grinned and gave his friend’s arm a firm pat, winking. “Say hi to Miss L for me.”

He walked away after Jim gave a small nod and a grateful smile, and the next second Claire had pressed her lips to his firmly, to which he quickly adjusted to. It didn’t last as long as he would’ve liked, but he let her pull away anyway, meeting her gaze and smile with his own, a hand gently resting in her cheek.

“Call me when you get a chance, okay?” She murmured gently, her forehead pressed to his. “I’ll be waiting.” “Of course.” Jim replied just as softly. He felt like he could melt.

Her smile widened. She leaned to his ear and whispered a soft, “I love you” before hurrying down the steps as well, giving Jim no time to respond. He stood there for a moment, watching her leave, and his smile returned not a moment later.

“Love you too, Claire.” He sighed.

The Trollhunter then turned towards the door, confidence boosted--drastically, might he add-- opening and stepping into the household he had called home his whole life. But he was only able to take a few steps in after shutting the door, the smell of jasmine and slightly burned foods wafting through his nose and overloading his senses. In a good way. This was at least the third time in his lifespan Jim had found himself standing at his doorway, taking in what he was already used to because he thought he wouldn’t see it again. His smile was bittersweet, with a hint of sadness to it as he finally took another step forwards into the house. “.. Mom??” He croaked, voice cracking.

One step after the next took him to the kitchen, one of his favorite places in the house. He dragged a hand along the counters, spotting a cookie sheet that had a rather large bite mark on it’s corner. Jim winced, holding his stomach as he remembered who had bit into that sheet just a few months ago. He pushed that away for now, walking past the sink and staring out the window, watching the branches of trees sway in the wind gently.

He barely heard the sound of a door closing, and bags being dropped to the floor with a solid thud.

What he did hear, was a quiet gasp, and his head whipped around. There stood a tall woman, short orange hair shining in the afternoon light and wearing a doctor's outfit. Her bright blue eyes were wide, glossy under the glasses she wore. Her mouth was covered by her hands, a sign of bewilderment. But Jim couldn’t blame her. For a moment, they stared at each other, Jim doing his best to keep his tears from falling. He gave a shaky smile, a small laugh escaping his throat.

“Hi mom..” He whispered passed the lump in his throat.

Barbra moved forward slowly, just as Jim had only seconds before. She blinked, a tear escaping the corner of her eye as she kneeled down so that they were eye level, close enough so that Jim could count almost every eyelash. Her hand lightly touched his face, and he couldn’t help but to lean into her touch, never leaving her gaze.

“Jim.. You're.. You’re home…” She finally spoke, searching her son’s face as more tears fell. A watery laugh left her throat as she ran her other hand through his hair gently, before resting it on his other cheek. Her smile was bright and bittersweet. “You’re back….”

Jim nodded gently, and the tears he was fighting back fell. “I am.” He sniffed.

A sob left his mother’s throat, and she brought him in for an embrace, one he returned quickly, hands grasping at the fabric of her shirt as he dug his face into her shoulder.

“I won’t ever leave you again,” He hiccuped through gritted teeth. “I promise….”

Barbra didn’t give an answer, but he didn’t necessarily need one. He knew she heard him. 

He knew she believed him.

It felt like a millennium before they finally decided to part, and yet Barbra’s hand still rested on his face, her thumb wiping whatever tears were left on his face, gently swiping at his bangs lovingly.

“My son..” She sniffed, laughing once again with happiness gleaming in her eyes. “Oh my beautiful boy.. How did this-..? I mean, you were a-” She shook her head, and leaned in to kiss the top of his head, unable to find the right words.

Jim couldn’t help the small hint of heat rising in his cheeks (Gosh he was blushing!! He was able to as a troll of course, but it always felt so different! It was not like this at all!) at her compliments, smiling sheepishly. “We’ll tell you everything that happened soon mom, I promise.” Second promise of the day, he realized. “But it would be best to wait for Blinky and Arrrgh, along with my friends first.”

Barbra nodded in agreement, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Y-you’re right. That would be better. I’m just.. So at a loss for words. I mean, of course I’m more than glad you’re back but--”

“I know what you mean,” Jim interrupted her, grabbing her hand and smiling with a chuckle. “Trust me. But we can tell each other all about our adventures later. Right now I-..” He faltered, forcing down a choke. “I just.. Don’t want to worry about anything, and spend time with you. Like old times.”

His mother smiled, and again she kissed his face, bringing him in for another hug right there on the kitchen floor. “I would like that very much.” Was her gentle response.

Jim didn’t plan on moving until the sun had set.

[toe-ruoikawa]

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summer loving- an oikawa x reader smau/classic fanfic ABANDONNED

3. The Diner

(y/n) runs - or, well, bikes - to the miyagi prefecture during summer break to escape her stifling family. while she's out in miyagi, she meets a cute boy named oikawa tooru.

taglist

@theshirleygamer @mikkasquare @krxstynnn @90s-belladonna @ayaeushi @dearkozume @heavenini @thats-kinda-sketchy @pyblos @yacoka (ur bio said u moved lol) @pnkcts @yikes-buddy @ochabby @michelepiekenma @namyari @pleasemelafook-outta-ere @neonghxst @lustingfor5sos @sayoomi @birdiewolf @sorrythatspussynal​ 

yeah, you loved suga's mom probably more than your own, but without suga there to actually create a bridge between the two of you, your conversations were dull and awkward, and you had left the house as soon as you thought she wouldn't mind.

for a few hours you had gone around the town, taking pictures of whatever seemed pretty to you. you had taken at least 50 by the time afternoon rolled around. that's kind of your thing; photos.

your camera roll was full of gorgeous landscapes-rolling hills and swaying trees, gigantic buildings and fluffy clouds, delicate flowers and creeping vines. it was a shame that you had lost some of your best shots when you had gotten rid of your old phone, but at least now you have a clean slate to fill all over again.

you're just finishing up a mini shoot of some train tracks when it hits you.

the single most delicious smell in the entire world hits your nose, and you almost black out it's so wonderful. it smells like frying oil and ice cream, and you almost cackle in glee because you had brought money for food and you just found the best place to spend it.

following your nose like a bloodhound, you start to walk past all the cute little buildings that had served as background for your railroad pictures. the smell keeps getting stronger, mixing and dividing into similar, more specific scents, like french fries and fried chicken. you feel your artist heart squeal with excitement as you round the corner on the block and find yourself in front of a cute American-themed diner.

the name of the restaurant is written over the door in fluorescent green lights, and there are similar signs hung in the windows of the diner. as the sky gradually darkens, you can tell that this is your photographer paradise. the booths in the diner are bustling with people who you swear are all smiling, and there's a bar where a few loners and couples sip at their extra thick milkshakes, with the overflow cup on the side. you haven't even set foot in the building and you could bet away your life's savings that the floors are checker tiled.

"ah," you don't even realize you've gone into the diner until the bell at the door jingles above your head, and you just gaze at it in dreamy shock. your feet are pulled to a red leather stool at the counter where you sit and swivel around a few times.

"what can i get to get you started?"

you swear you almost die when you see the outfit the waitress is wearing. the entire retro vibe of the restaurant has your artist heart weeping tears of bliss and the uniforms are just icing on the cake.

you order your favourite flavour of milkshake and a side of fries and then glance at your phone to see what you've missed from suga.

you don't really ever understand most of his vague volleyball tweets. from what you can gather, the team is a bunch of hooligan children that suga babysits, with the help of daichi, who you only know through suga's texts.

seeing as you don't even want to know what watermelon and hills have to do with volleyball camp, your thoughts drift to your other best friend, aki. you had blocked her with your new twitter account so there would be no chance of her stumbling across it, but you couldn't help but feel a wave of guilt as you look at her account. she's probably the closest thing you have to a sister, which is why you had to leave her behind, too.

sisters are lovely but they're also snitches.

you put your phone face down as the waitress from earlier reappears, setting down a plastic basket full of fries and a milkshake, as well as a large metal cup filled with refill milkshake. ah, the glory of retro american diners. you're about to dig in when the bell rings and you hear laughter from someone your age.

the idea that it could be someone that recognizes you jumps into your head and you spin around in your swivel stool so quickly that you almost launch yourself off of it. in your commotion your eyes lock onto the warmest brown eyes you’ve seen in your entire life and you swear time slows.

they belong to a cute brunette, who has come to the diner with a group of friends. he is quick to look away, playing it off like he had been glancing around the restaurant. he waves to the waitress, who smiles bashfully, and follows his friends to a booth table that you know by the way they are drawn to it is undeniable their booth.

the boy with the warm eyes does another sweep over the diner as his group settles down, and as the chocolate irises linger on you, you realize that you’ve been staring at him the whole time.

flustered and feeling heat rise to your face, you jerk yourself back around in the seat so you’re facing your meal and take a long sip of your milkshake. ignoring the sting in your skull from the sudden cold, you flip your phone around and quickly open your texts. 

taking a deep breath and steeling yourself for the embarrassment you’re about to undergo willingly, you turn around in your swivel stool.

much to your bewilderment, the boy is already staring at you.

he waves at you and you freeze for a moment, taking in his dark hair and his huge, intelligent brown eyes that are gazing right back into yours, and then you offer him a small smile and meek wave of your own hand. the lazy smile that had stretched across his face brightens in return.

instead of earlier when he had entered the diner, now the boy seems content to keep eye contact with you, and, with each quickened beat of your heart, you feel yourself becoming more and more comfortable with his gaze in yours. 

you almost start to daydream when one of his buddies elbows him, clearly jiving him by the way the other boys are laughing. he turns his attention to them exclaiming something you don’t hear that makes the booth burst out into raucous teenage guffaws.

coming to your senses, you’re certain your face must match the shade of red on the ketchup bottle that you clumsily dump on your fries. you shoot suga a few more texts, stuffing a handful of fries in your mouth to keep yourself from squealing.

the mere idea that this beautiful and pretty boy might even consider to be interested in you has your heart melting in purpley yellow puddles of pure simp essence and your brain turning into honey. you find yourself slurping down the rest of your milkshake in an attempt to beat back the steady blush that burns on the apples of your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

sadly, whenever you turn to look back at the booth the boys are eating in, he never has his attention turned on you. you know there’s a chance that you’re just not catching him at the right moments, but as his laughter continues fills the space throughout the evening, your certainty that your shared gaze was a one time occurrence grows. 

eventually, disheartened and a tad embarrassed, you give up on trying to catch the boy’s attention again. you pay for your meal before going to the washroom.

when you return, the group had left. disappointed in yourself, you’re trudging over to the door when you notice a turquoise and white jacket laying in the seat of the booth.

“excuse me, but the group that was sitting here earlier just left, right?” you call out to the waitress that had served both you and the group.

“huh?” the waitress looks up from the table she’s wiping down. “oh, yeah. they’re gone. did matsukawa leave his jacket again?”

“yeah, i guess,” you shrug. an idea pops into your romance driven brain, and for once you don’t wave it away immediately. “if you don’t mind, i could run it out to him. i’m leaving anyways.”

“that’d be a big help, sweetie, thank you!” the waitress graciously accepts your offer and then turns back to the table she’s cleaning.

you’re exiting the diner with a ring of the bell overhead, turquoise and white track jacket in hand with the words ‘aoba johsai’ printed on the back, when you stumble into a wall of warm fabric.

“woah there!” the voice you’ve been tuned to for the past hour replies, and the cute boy’s grabbing your shoulders gently to steady you. you gaze up into the calf’s eyes that you had been so fixated earlier, and they focus back on you for a brief moment, before trailing to the jacket in your arms. “oh, look! you’ve got mattsun’s jacket.”

“oh, yeah, here,” you hand the boy the jacket, only now realizing how much he towers over you in such close proximity. despite how that thought makes your heart race, you jump at the chance to get to know the boy a bit more. “so you’re not matsukawa, then?”

he laughs, not unpolitely, throwing his head back the slightest bit. “no, i’m oikawa tooru.” he fixes you with a sunny smile, like you’ve surprised him in the best way possible, and it’s like you’ve never realized how gorgeous a smile could be.

“(l/n), (y/n),” you grin back. “so oikawa-san, what’re doing here coming back for a jacket that’s not even yours?” on the inside, you’re practically screaming; when did you become so bold?

“well,” his grin turns sheepish. “i meant to ask you for your number earlier but iwa-chan kept breaking my train of thought, so i figured i could try again now.”

“oh, thank god you’re asking,” you let a sigh of relief as you pull out your phone. “i wanted to ask you earlier, too, but i chickened out.”

the two of you exchange phones and enter your numbers in a new contact, while oikawa makes a little joke about your default wallpaper, which you laugh a little too hard at.

“let’s go out sometime this week!” oikawa says as his words of parting, and you hum in agreement, waving goodbye.

once you’re far away enough from oikawa, you check your phone as if making sure the contact is real. you giggle once you realize what he’s put as his name. maybe this summer won't be so bad after all.

[annerly-san]

Malignance - [Chapter 1: Anomaly]

Primary Character Pairing: Getou Suguru x Reader/Gender-Neutral OC Story Summary: You are a curse. A burden. You are a tumor that grows within me. A malignant cancer. Cursed upon conception at birth, “Akusei Shuyo” was born from the hatred and ire of humans to the form of a special human-curse hybrid. Knowing nothing but the foulness of human hatred, fear, and hostility, a single chance encounter with a human able to give something other than such putrid emotions opens up a dangerous relationship between a curse-human hybrid and a sorcerer that holds the potential ability to reign control over them. [A Getou Suguru x Gender-Neutral Reader/OC] Chapter Navigation: [Next chapter to be updated]

The building in front of them was ostentatious. Getou stared up at the towering black fence gate of intricate lattice work and geometric spires that pointed towards the clear blue sky ahead. All along his horizontal peripheral was an endless wall of modern-eqse beige and white concrete blocks that most likely bordered the perimeter of the entire area.

For a high school, this was overkill. Gojo, who was standing next to him with evident distaste on his face, seemed to share in his thoughts as the both of them shared a knowing gaze.

The duo had been standing at the front gate for an undeniably long time.

Getou was politely smiling at the guard positioned at the entrance as he stared and flipped through the papers and identification that Getou had provided him. Gojo, was glaring at the other guard at the post— lips pulled back to make a face full of confrontational disdain.

School security was important for sure, but the extent that this school had gone to was ludicrous.

“Tokyo Tech had sent you here on the request of the headmaster?”

“That’s correct.” Getou had maintained his calm smile, and it betrayed none of the growing irritation that was brewing within him— though that façade was quickly wearing thin. This was the fifth time the guard had asked.

“Hmm…” the papers were shuffled through again. “Alright. These seem legitimate, but let me ping the headmaster just to be certain.”

Getou began tapping his foot in impatience, and Gojo began to pace circles back and forth as the guard rang up the headmaster on his radio.

“Ah yes, I have Getou Suguru and Gojo Satoru here from Tokyo Tech at the front entrance and wanted to confirm that he has permission from you to be on the premises.”

The ring went through, and Getou simmered with an annoyance as the thought of why this was not done earlier crossed his mind.

“Yes. Yes. Alright, much appreciated, Headmaster.” The guard turned to him with an unwarranted look of doubt and disdain. “You can go in now.”

Getou nodded and waved a hand at the guard as he walked through the opening gates. He watched as Gojo stuck out a tongue and blew it at the guards before sauntering in, and Getou didn’t bother to stifle the laughter that came out of it.

The interior was more grandiose than the gate. It was to be expected, but it left him with a sickening sense of irritation given the circumstances he had faced only at the entrance.

Yaga-sensei had warned them about the school. It was an incredibly prestigious private high school in Tokyo that the rich often sent their kids to study at. Scholarships and admissions were also granted based upon merit and the school was known to turn out incredibly intellectual and talented students.

It seemed stifling to be honest, and given the amount of incidents that had arisen to warrant calling two special-grade sorcerers to the fray, the amount of cursed energy in the area should be crushing their bodies and souls whole. Yet, there was nearly no cursed energy in the area at all. Nothing.

Getou looked over to Gojo, who had the same look of confusion and bewilderment on his face.

“Do you think it’s actually a special grade object?” Gojo asked inquisitively as he pat one of the stone columns on the buildings they passed by. “From what the damage was, it has to be a higher-grade curse, and the fact that the place is as quiet as this is unusual.”

“Yeah,” Getou nodded in agreement. “I get it if there’s no lower-grade curses lurking around, but how is there just no cursed energy in this area at all?” He muttered as his eyes darted about the campus. Getou held out his hand and summoned a few lower-grade curses to help scout around the area. “It might make sense if it’s an object. But with how things have been, shouldn’t there be some residual energy leaking from loose seals?”

Their school had received a concerning request calling for the investigation and resolution of a series of unfortunate events that had been plaguing the students, faculty, and staff for the past year. From car accidents to suicides, to poisonings and to descents into insanity, the victims of the school were suffering from a wide array of misfortune that befell both themselves as well as their friends, family, and loved ones.

Getou could recall his first exposure to this mission in an unbearably vivid quality. It was a desecrated corpse that had been unclogged and pulled out of an apartment’s plumbing system a few weeks back. Mangled to pieces with organs strewn all over in an endless crimson pool of bloodied water overflowing in the sink, but what shook him more than the sight of the gruesome death was the pulsating mass of purple and green that had embedded itself into the decaying fragments of what was a human body.

Shoko, despite her tough stomach with her experience in handling corpses and the like in the school’s morgue, was the first to run outside the building to regurgitate any contents within her stomach, and Getou soon followed with Gojo in tow.

It wasn’t a curse but rather the residual of it. Each reported victim associated with the school had the same vein like mass attached to them one way or another. For the past several days, the trio had been chasing empty leads with the victims in the hopes of finding the cursed spirit, user, or object that had proliferated such a vile curse all over the area to no avail.

Gojo prodded the pale green mass and it blobbed about gelatinously before wobbling to a still on the head of a hospital patient who had gone brain-dead in a sudden coma.

“It doesn’t seem to be dangerous or anything-“ his musing was interrupted by the door of the room crashing open.

A family member of the deceased had chosen to walk in at the same time of their visit and the tears running down her face only marked the beginning fiasco of the hysteria she was about to let loose.

Getou and Gojo stood there awkwardly as they watched the girl cry hysterically as she clutched the arm of what appeared to be her deceased brother whilst she pathetically shook him back and forth. Getou, trying to avoid looking at the uncomfortable sight before him, made the poor mistake of focusing on the pale green blob as it jiggled back and forth with the sway of the vegetable on the hospital bed. Gojo must have been doing something similar as the quiet choking sounds of his friend trying to stifle a laugh served as an addition to the white noise of the buzzing hospital room. Getou nudged his friend and gave him a glare for his inconsideration whilst doing his best to not look at the bobbling elastic mass of pale green and lilac.

“A-are you two the ones that are looking into h-his… h-his a-accident?” The girl finally managed to choke out some amount of words before standing up with an uncanny rage burning in the back of her eyes.

Getou slipped his hands into his pockets as Gojo awkwardly rubbed the back of his head.

“Yeah, we are.” Getou responded calmly. “Our sincerest condolences for your loss.”

A slam echoed in the quiet room as the girl dropped her book bag on the vinyl floor with a resounding thud. A burning rage in her eyes ignited as she stormed towards the two of them.

Getou froze and Gojo tensed up as she grabbed his shirt in a pleading manner— desperately looking up to him in a cry for help.

“P-PLEASE-“ she barely managed to get out. “IT’S THAT FUCKING SHUYO. THAT AKUSEI-“

Her words stopped there.

The blob that had been benign for the past several weeks of its encounter had latched onto the girl with its vein-like tendrils wrapping around the girl’s mouth and neck in a chokehold. Muffled screams grew higher and higher in pitch as Getou quickly reached out to pry it off of her, but it was too late and to no avail.

A loud crunch and pop sounded out in the room as the mass squeezed the body with a blinding compression and crushed her skull and popped her innards all over the hospital room floor. The pressure of the blood in her body released all at once and sprayed the fragments of what was once functional organs and tissue all over Getou and Gojo’s clothes.

Rhythmic dripping sounded against the vinyl tiles that were now crimson and covered in a growing puddle of blood and gore.

Getou could not move.

Frozen in place, he eyed the green blob resting on the exposed white spinal cord amidst the mass of fresh blood and tissue on the girl’s corpse as it pulsated slower and slower until it was benign once more.

Getou could hear Gojo vomit in the background as he stared in shocked horror at the mass of pure malevolence in front of him.

“She said… shuyo, didn’t she?” Gojo muttered as the two of them continued to traverse the campus. “Shuyo as in tumor?”

The words were spoken as though it were an insult to a person. To call someone a cancer was definitely a rare and degrading insult, but the way it was spoken in conjunction with malignance or “Akusei” was peculiar.

Akusei.

Shuyo.

Akusei Shuyo.

The words combined were a creative insult for sure. But the conjoinment of the two made for something far too literal to be used as such.

Unless it was actually someone’s name.

“She couldn’t mean… a person… right-?” Getou commented nervously at the insinuation of his words.

Gojo stared at him with a strange look on his face before turning to face straight ahead. “Shuyo… Akusei…”

The words meaning tumor, and the words meaning malignancy and evil nature.

A cold chill ran down his spine as Getou recalled the pale, green mass on the desecrated corpse of the girl in the hospital room

The curse residual was not unlike a malignant tumor in nature. Getou’s thoughts wandered as he walked alongside Gojo on the campus. That girl had called out for a “Akusei Shuyo”, but there was no possible way that she would have been able to see the cursed residual on her brother’s body as she was a regular human being. That ruled out the perpetrator being a curse. The manner of speaking implied a person rather than an object. Getou froze as Gojo continued to pace on ahead.

“Is it a curse user?” Getou asked aloud.

Gojo stopped and turned back to face him.

Before Getou could receive affirmation or denial from his companion, the tolling of the school bell rung and the walkways were beginning to become quickly saturated with students and staff transitioning back and forth for lunch and break.

The two of them stiffened at the sight.

Discretely attached to each and every body of the student and staff population that they were able to see at school was a pale green cluster of cancerous cells at risk of becoming malignant at any given moment.

[geekgirles]

Look Me in the Eye

Whelp, it’s officially Novmeber 27th here where I live, so... HAPPY BIRTHDAY @tipolover22!!!! LOVE YA TO BITS AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS LITTLE SOMETHING!

READ ON AO3

“A retelling of ‘Eye’ll Be Watching You’ set in the Betrothed AU.”

It all started just like any other day. Poppy was showing Branch around her kingdom as she promised to do once she learned that, apparently, her father had only shown her husband what he’d seen fit for his plans and training. In other words, only anything that could be related to safety procedures. Everything else had been temporarily shut down until her subjects were in the advanced stages of their training.

But now the time had finally come. Her people were almost ready to defend themselves without the prince and his men’s help. And now that they had finally become two sickening sweethearts —like she’d always dreamed of being with whoever troll she’d end up marrying—, it was high time her dear husband learned of the wildest side of Rainbow troll fun.

At first Branch was hesitant. Whatever Poppy had planned had planted the seed of doubt deep inside his chest. In all fairness, it could have very well been because she refused to tell him what it was since it was a surprise. And while his adorable wife was incredibly thoughtful and a master at surprising people, he still did not like surprises.

Only when he was the one giving them.

And 9 out of 10 times when it was Poppy he was trying to surprise.

When they finally made it to the course race of the Flyer Riding event, his mind was conflicted. On the one hand, he could feel the anxiety spiking in his heart because Flyer Riding could be extremely dangerous if one didn’t have the proper safety equipment, which of course the Rainbow Trolls, being easy-going, fun-loving creatures, did not have. And on the other, those bugs were very promising steeds their subjects could use since there weren’t many hummingbirds in the Valley.

Hummingbirds had to be the only friendly critter that was scarcer in the Valley than in the Forest.

Despite his —countless— worries, everything seemed to be going alright. After all, as unexpected as it was to a Forest troll, Rainbow trolls were seasoned pilots when it came to Flyer Bugs. Poppy even made a point to remind him that too much safety could be smothering before flying off with her very own steed.

For a few, glorious minutes Branch couldn’t do anything else but gaze lovingly at the pink beauty he married. There she was, flying with a confidence and ease most of his soldiers would’ve been envious of when they were learning to fly their hummingbirds. And she did it so beautifully, too. The wind caressed her silky, magenta locks as it carried the melodious sound of her laughter, and for a moment, he was jealous of the wind. The sun hit her skin just right, giving it a rich pink hue. And her face was the pure definition of excitement. Just from a glance, one could feel the adrenaline coursing through their own veins, very much like she was experiencing at the moment.

Yeah, that gorgeous, brave and charming princess was his wife, and he didn’t know what he’d do if he lost her.

But, of course, he had to jinx himself.

Everything happened so fast he barely had time to register it.

At the same time as Poppy was trying one of her signature moves she’d learned a few summers ago from Vanessa Heitz, Aspen Heitz’s late sister, Suki, who was on her free day, collided with her in a moment of uncharacteristic irresponsibility. And while Suki managed to regain balance on her bug, Poppy wasn’t so lucky. She plummeted to the ground, her terrified screams promising to hunt Branch in his nightmares until his last breath. But the second most terrifying thing was that Branch could only watch as it all happened right before his very eyes, the scene before him so shocking it paralysed him completely.

But the most terrifying thing was, without a doubt, the few agonising moments where he thought he’d lost his wife forever. As she fell, he could see his entire life flash before his eyes. It was said that such thing could only happen to the person whose life was in danger, but in all honesty, if Poppy didn’t make it, Branch’s own life was as well as over.

His heart was pumping so wildly it could’ve shot off of his chest at any time. Dread overflowing him, he hastily peaked his head from the cliff he stood from to catch a glance of his wife, “Poppy!” he cried.

From his vantage point he could see a mass of trolls circling around Poppy’s form. Her eyes were close, and he begged to all things above him that she was just unconscious. With dread as his only motivation, he strode down to where his wife lay, kneeling by her side, her hand in his, “Somebody call Doctor Plum Plimsy, quick!”

The trolls around him could only gasp in astonishment. In all the months the Forest Prince had lived with them, his voice had never hold such fear. The pain inside him so overwhelming it manifested in the form of his breaking voice. It was such a stark contrast to the stoic, collected leader who worked so well under pressure they’d come to know, that it rendered them speechless. And to Branch’s frustration, motionless.

“Are you deaf?! We need Dr Plimsy, pronto!” he bellowed.

“Branch, she’s with me! She’s here!” Smidge said. True to her word, the purple troll with band-aits adorning her neon green hair was right behind her.

Dr Plimsy kneeled down beside Poppy, opposite from the princess’ distressed husband. “Your Highness, please, if you would be so kind to tell me what happened.”

“Poppy was riding her Flyer Bug when she collided with Suki. She lost control of her steed and came plummeting to the ground, hitting a few leaves and branches in the process.” He recounted, his hand never letting go of Poppy’s. “Please, Dr, will she be OK?”

The purple troll took a deep breath, “I must figure out what the trouble is first, Your Highness.” She then proceeded to examine Poppy, gently touching and rubbing the areas that seemed to have taken the worst of the fall. When she rubbed the princess’ ankle, Poppy finally stirred.

Relief washed over him in waves when he saw her eyes opening. And he could have cried of joy the moment he heard her voice. “B-Branch…? Wha-what happened?”

Branch was about to answer when he felt Dr Plum’s hand on his shoulder, interrupting him. “You fell and sprained your ankle, Poppy. But let’s take you to your room so I can examine it further just to make sure.” She then turned to Smidge, “Smidge, could you please help me lift her up so we can take her to the Castle-pod?”

Smidge did as she was told, but before the green-haired troll could reach them, Branch addressed her, “Dr Plum, shouldn’t I accompany my wife? She just had such a nasty fall that I…” I thought I was going to lose her, that thought was so horrifying, Branch didn’t even want to say it aloud.

Fortunately for him, the lab coat clad troll spoke first. “Your Highness, I believe it is best if I make sure Poppy has just sprained her ankle, and I will work better if it is just her and me in your room.” Seeing his anxious expression, she added, smiling softly, “But you’re free to spend as much time with her as you want once she’s all patched up. I know how much she’ll appreciate having you near.” After patting his back gently, she made her way to where Smidge was waiting for her, a disoriented Poppy leaning on the teaspoon troll’s shoulder.

As the three girls became spots in the distance, Branch’s expression hardened. “Commander, we have got to talk.”

.......................................................................................................................

Inside the Castle-pod, in the hall that led to the Royal couple’s bedroom, a furious Branch was pacing in front of Suki, her head hung low in shame. If she hadn’t known she was in trouble the moment she crushed into Poppy’s bug, she was well aware of it the moment Branch called her ‘Commander.’ He hadn’t called her by her military title ever since Poppy started help him to lower his guard, and even before that he only really called her like that in the Forest when they were on duty or the circumstances were serious.

Just like now.

“I just don’t understand!” Branch ranted, just like he’d been doing for the last half hour. “How could you be so irresponsible as to not look where you were going?! And while you were flying, no less!” The grey troll was so far gone in his own rage and bewilderment, he still hadn’t moved on from asking that same question. But it was surreal! The whole situation didn’t make sense! Suki had been so reckless she didn’t pay attention to where she was going, which could have resulted in Poppy getting gravely hurt… He could have expected that kind of behaviour from Mulberry, or Fiona and Finnick, but Suki?! “Do you have any idea what could have happened?! Poppy could’ve-!”

“Branch, enough!” Under any other circumstances, the DJ would’ve never raised her voice at her Prince when he was scolding her for something that was her fault. But he went too far, acting like she wouldn’t be shaken too if something serious had happened to Poppy. “I know what I did was one of the most stupid things I have ever done, but you don’t get to treat me like I’m not perfectly aware of it either!” She was so stressed out, she could feel the tears in her eyes threatening to spill. “I know you could have lost the love of your life, but I…” she pointed at herself, her eyes red from unshed tears and her teeth gritted from helplessness, “I could’ve killed my best friend. So you don’t have to beat me up about it; I’m doing a fine job at it myself.” And with that, she hurried down the halls, her hands desperately trying to hold back the cries coming from her throat.

Branch looked down in shame. While it was undeniable Suki had been too reckless, she was right in being angry at him. He was being too selfish. Even if the both of them were clearly shaken for what could’ve happened, it was Suki who would’ve had to live with the guilt, not him.

He made a mental note to apologise to her as soon as he’d checked on Poppy.

At that moment, Dr Plimsy exited the room. “Just as I thought, just a sprained ankle. She just needs a few days of rest and to keep her foot high while she’s in bed.” She gave him a coy, knowing smile. “You can go see her, Your Highness.”

Branch was convinced he’d never moved so fast in his life, but he had to see her. He just had to see her smile. After the absolute terror he’d experienced not long ago, he was sure he would die if he couldn’t enjoy her radiant smile again. He needed it like oxygen.

Lying on bed, with her right ankle high, was Poppy. And the moment she saw him enter the room, she breathed air into his lungs. She smiled at him. Even when she was weary from what had soon become a very long day, she still found the time to gift him with the object of the sun’s envy. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her in his life.

“Hey, honey. Are you OK- Branch?!”

He fell to his knees beside the mattress, startling his darling. Taking her hands in both of his, he started peppering them with desperate kisses, he could already feel the moisture in his eyes. Finally, he choked out, “I am now.”

Poppy couldn’t take it anymore, she hated to see him sad, especially because of her, so she did what she knew best; she brought him into a hug. “Oh, Branch!” She began to gently stroke his hair to calm him down, just the way he liked it. “Oh, honey, I’m so, so sorry I worried you like that! But I’m fine! …Well, mostly… But really, there’s nothing to worry about, I’m safe.” He didn’t answer, just held her tighter. Knowing it would take a while for Branch to calm down from such a scare, she just hummed appreciatively and returned his embrace with the same intensity and love as he offered.

But Branch’s mind was made up. That one had been way too close for his liking. He could take many things as the king-to-be of two nations, but losing the love of his life was something that would certainly end him. If there was anybody he wanted to keep safe at all costs, that was Poppy. He would do anything in his power to keep his wife by his side.

And he knew just what he had to do.

.........................................................................................................................

Walking down the tunnels of the bunker he and his men had been digging for months ever since they arrived at the Valley Kingdom —the very same bunker he still hadn’t shown to his wife, who was sure to kill him for making her wait for so long—, Branch approached the fortified door that hid away the key element of his plan.

Guarding said doors were the siblings Arum and Mulberry. Any other day, Branch would’ve made a point to let them know they had better behave and not argue while they were on duty. But today he just had one goal in mind: retrieve one of the items behind that door and make sure no one ever got hurt on his watch again.

“Mulberry,” he called the yellow troll, “open the vault.”

Mulberry nodded before he began unlocking the door. While he was putting the codes and turning the keys, he asked, “How’s Poppy?” Suddenly, someone smacked him on the back of his head. “Ow! Why’d you do that for?!”

Arum sent him a glare, “Because you’re on duty, so stop socialising!” While that was what she said with her words, with her eyes she was trying to let him know that he should have a little more tact when speaking about the princess before their leader.

But of course, Mulberry was never good at taking a hint. “Well, excuse me! Maybe you’ve only socialised with Cybil since we got here, but I happen to be friends with Poppy! I’m worried about her, OK?!”

Arum felt like face-palming herself. Even though the idea of face-punching her brother sounded much more appealing at the moment. But before she could sock the idiot she had the misfortune of being related to, Branch spoke up. “She’s doing OK; just a sprained ankle. She should be fine in a few days.”

Arum almost let out the breath she was holding when she saw their prince wasn’t going to try to kill her brother for being an insensitive idiot. Again. Mulberry wasn’t quite the same ever since the Valentine’s Day scare…

“Well, I’m glad. From what I’ve heard, that sure was one nasty fall…” OK, nevermind! The idiot wanted to die, so she would grant him his wish. By the time he said this, Mulberry had finished opening the vault. He stepped aside to let Branch in.

Again, Branch only sighed. “Yes, it was. Despite our best efforts, the Valley has proved itself to be a challenge time and time again, and after what happened yesterday…” he shook his head, he didn’t even want to think about it. “I am initiating Plan Five Delta Zero.”

Arum and Mulberry gasped. Plan Five Delta Zero was so extreme they agreed on using it only on desperate circumstances, like finding out there was an impostor or a spy in their midst. “Branch?” The prince turned his head slightly to Mulberry, humming a little to let him know he’d heard him, “Are you sure we wouldn’t be going overboard? I mean, compared to us, the Rainbow trolls aren’t as-.”

“Well-prepared? Cautious? Ready for anything?” Arum suggested.

“I was going to say paranoid, but sure, that works, too.”

“Mulberry, we’ve been too lenient lately.” Branch said, his back turned to his soldiers as he scanned the room, trying to find what he was looking for. “Believe it or not, Poppy’s accident was because Suki was too reckless when flying her bug.” Again, the siblings could only gasp. “Had we all been in top shape, their bugs wouldn’t have even brushed against each other. So, no. I’m not taking any chances.”

Finally, he spotted what he’d come for. In the far corner of the room, resting on a shelf was a little bag. He used his hair to pick it up before going back the way he came from, leaving behind too flabbergasted trolls.

“…I am so making fun of Suki for being the reckless one for once… Ow! Would you care to stop that?!” This time, Arum had punched him on the arm.

.............................................................................................................................

Poppy lay in bed, sleeping soundly. Normally she would hate not being active, which is why she hated training so much when they first started —well, that and because her husband was one Hair of a smug little motherhugger about it back then—, but now that she was recovering from her sprained ankle, she could welcome a few extra hours of rest.

If only her husband were there to cuddle with her…

In her semi-unconscious state, she felt the weight of the mattress shift. She smiled, it looked like her wish had come true. “Hello there, handsome…” She said groggily as she turned around to face Branch, “How’s it going-what in the name of everything trolly is that?!” When she opened her eyes, instead of her husband’s handsome features, she was greeted by one big, bulging eye. She was so spooked she jumped out of bed. But before her face could meet the floor, the thing’s arms —wait, were those arms, or were they leaves? Arm-leaves? — wrapped around her and tugged her safely in bed once again.

“Poppy,” Branch’s voice caught her attention, “meet the Eyestalk. These little guys are my people’s ultimate form of surveillance.” He sat on his side of the bed, right next to her, and gently began to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. “I was thinking about using them in the kingdom. That way we can avoid any more unfortunate accidents.”

Poppy made a face. “Branch, I know you just want to keep everyone safe, but don’t you think this might be a bit much?”

“Actually, I think I was settling for too little before.” He took a deep breath and squeezed her hand just a little tighter. “If we’d been more on guard yesterday, you wouldn’t have fallen. You scared me to death for a moment there, Poppy. I can live without a lot of things, but I can’t live without you. And I don’t want any more of your trolls going through the excruciating pain of losing someone dear when it could’ve been avoided.” He looked her dead in the eye, his expression so vulnerable she felt her heart constricting in empathy for the troll she loved. “Please, Poppy, let me introduce the Eyestalks to the kingdom.”

His words held so much emotion, he almost moved her to tears. Even to this day she still couldn’t believe how much Branch loved her. It was so wonderful knowing somebody cared about her more than anyone else in the world… Still, she was Acting Queen and needed to think about her trolls and their reaction to those creepy plants.

“Branch, this could be such a great idea, I mean it!” Branch’s grin widened at her words. “But…” and then it fell, “it would also be a huge change for us, Rainbow trolls. We’re not used to such things, it could become very invasive very quickly. How about I get acquaintanced with this… little fella… first and then I tell you if it’d be a good idea to plant some more?”

Though he was a bit disappointed that things didn’t go his way, Poppy was taking her role as Acting Queen very seriously, and she offered a very good compromise. He could wait a little. “Deal.”

............................................................................................................................

Now that he’d agreed on giving Poppy some time to reflect on the use of Eyestalks in her kingdom, Branch knew he had some matters to take care of. After talking a little with Poppy about their day so far —although she insisted on listening mostly to his because, as she put it, “Branch, I am confined to our bed. There’s literally nothing going on for me.”—, he told her he had to go, much to their mutual disappointment, but promised some extra cuddles for the next day.

He was following the path to one particular pod. One he didn’t really visit often but that the troll he was looking for certainly did. But as he was making his way to the twins’ pod, a troll riding a Flyer Bug passed by him, missing him by a hair. The troll in question yelled a quick “Sorry, Your Highness!” before focusing again on flying.

That troll caught Branch’s attention. Now wherever he looked, all he could see where trolls acting recklessly on their bugs. Hadn’t they learned anything from the previous day’s events?

The more trolls flew around, carelessly doing tricks and antics that could cost them greatly, the more anxious Branch grew. His eyes kept darting from one troll to another, one wrong movement shy from disaster to another. He couldn’t take it anymore. He knew he’d promised Poppy he’d wait for her verdict, but this was for everyone’s sake. She would thank him later.

Using his hair to swing from one branch to another, the grey troll landed on top of a particularly big mushroom, took the bag containing the Eyestalk seeds out, and planted one on top of the platform. Immediately, it grew, and declaring danger with its nasal little voice, it extended its vines to carefully tie the Flyer Bugs around it until the plant deemed the activity safe.

“Don’t worry, everyone!” Branch tried to reassure the now bored trolls. “You’re all safe now.”

He was about to resume his previous walk when the Eyestalk stopped him dead in his tracks. “Danger!” It said while pointing somewhere else with its one eye.

Intrigued, Branch took a look at the direction the Eyestalk was pointing at. When he registered what the plant was trying to warn him about, a knowing smile appeared on his face. “Ah, so you want to solve that too, right? Well, little buddy, you read my mind.”

And so, Branch spent the best part of the morning planting Eyestalk after Eyestalk in places where potential dangers could take place. Such as the Jumping Mushrooms, or Cooper’s cupcake stand, or Guy and Biggie’s “fencing.”

“Well, that should do it.” He declared proudly. With that taken care of, he finally went back the way he came from. He still had some important matters to discuss with one particular troll.

Unfortunately, he failed to see the Eyestalks’ ambition growing, as well as their cunning…

..............................................................................................................................

When he finally made it to the unusually big pod that held the Fashion Twins’ shop, he tried to compose himself. What he came to do wasn’t going to be easy, but it needed to be done. He knocked on the hairy wall a few times when he arrived at the entrance. Satin was the one to greet him. “Oh! Hi, Branch! How’s Poppy?” she asked, worried about her best friend.

“She’s fine, just needs to rest her ankle a little.” He tried to sneak a peek from over the fashionista’s shoulder. “Can I come in?”

Satin looked hesitant. “Um… I don’t think it’s a good idea, actually. Suki’s in there and she’s told Chenille all about your little spat yesterday.”

“So you’re saying Suki doesn’t want to see me?”

“Well…yeah.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “But mostly I’m saying Chenille’s livid at you for talking to Suki like that. So unless you want to lose your royal jewels, I’d stay away if I were you.”

Branch gulped, who knew Rainbow trolls could be this vicious? But then again, the time Poppy told him off for his behaviour she’d also been a force to be reckoned with. So maybe it shouldn’t have come off as surprising. But he had to see Suki. “Satin, please. I know I was out of line yesterday, that’s what I came here for.”

Satin was about to retort when a voice coming from inside interrupted her, “Let him in, Satin.”

Branch and Satin turned their heads to see Suki, arms intertwined with Chenille’s (who looked like she was trying to hold back from glaring at her future king). Suki, in turn, turned her head to her fiancée, “Can you guys leave us alone for a while? We need to talk.”

“Are you sure?” Chenille asked, clearly worried for her mate.

Suki nodded before giving her a reassuring smile, “Positive.”

“OK.” And with that the twins left them alone inside the pod.

Suki and Branch looked like they were uncomfortable in each other’s presence. Something that hadn’t taken place ever since Suki’s first few months at the Forest. Each of them opened and closed their mouths a few times, before realising they were looking at each other’s eyes and promptly avoiding all eye contact.

Just when Branch had gathered enough courage to speak up, Suki beat him to it. “Look, Branch…” She took a deep breath, “I’m sorry I yelled at you. You’re my prince, I should’ve never done that.” She averted her eyes again, obviously ashamed, “…especially when you were right; I put Poppy in danger. And I know that you were also in very bad shape after the accident. I know that it takes you so long to let people in because your greatest fear is losing them forever. And considering I have never seen you so in love with anyone before, I could always tell from a mile away that Poppy means the world to you.” She finally looked him into the eye again, “Branch, I’m-.”

“I’m really sorry, Suki.”

The Commander’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? You’re sorry?!” She couldn’t believe it! “Branch, I’m the one who acted recklessly and put your wife’s life in danger, not the other way around!”

Branch chuckled lightly. “I know,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “but you were right too, Suki. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I think I took all the day’s stress out on you, and that was unfair of me.” He rested one hand on her shoulder, making her look at him. “Suki, you were too reckless for what I’m used of you, that’s true. But you had a point; while I would’ve been devastated had anything happened to Poppy, you would have had to live with the guilt.” He chuckled again, confusing her. Couldn’t he read a room? This was not the sort of subject that elicited a chuckle. “And you and I know that Poppy is unknowingly good at making guilt feel even worse because of her sunny, forgiving nature.” He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a pang of regret now and then (or every day, really) when she offered him her love and he remembered how cold he’d been to her during their first months together.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I forgive you. Can you forgive me, too?”

She smiled, “Of course I do, my prince.”

Now that the air had been cleared between them, Suki felt confident enough to sass him. Crossing her arms and aiming a smirk at his direction, she dared to ask, “So, what’cha been up to? Couldn’t stay away from your wife to come see me sooner?”

Branch actually laughed at that. “No, I was actually planting some Eyestalks on my way here. You could say I got distracted.”

Suki’s eyes were as wide as saucers at the revelation, “Wait, are you saying you’ve set Plan Five Delta Zero in motion?”

“Yes, after what happened yesterday, it was necessary.”

“And Poppy’s OK with this? I dunno, Branch… Such a surveillance system is a huge change in the Valley’s lifestyle. I mean, even in the Forest Kingdom we only use it on very extreme cases… And-, why are you looking at me like that?” When realisation hit her, she gasped. “Oh, Branch! You didn’t!”

The moment Suki mentioned Poppy’s opinion on the Eyestalks, Branch started sweating bullets. “Suki, don’t worry! I mean, sure, Poppy asked me to give her a little time to think things through, but the moment she sees what the Eyestalks can do for the kingdom, she’ll be totally on board with it!”

Suki wasn’t so convinced, “Are you sure about that? ‘Cause it can either go your way, or it can make Poppy think you’ve been stepping on her toes.” She tapped her fingers on her chin in a contemplative manner, “And now that I think about it, as Acting Queen, she’s higher up in the hierarchy than you Branch, and you should know better than anyone what if feels like to be ignored even when you have the last say in something.”

Branch waved it off, “Suki, relax. I know what I’m doing. And Poppy just wants what’s best for her kingdom. Trust me, the moment she sees what those babies can do, she’ll agree with me. Anyway, I gotta go back to her, it’s almost lunch. See you around!”

As Branch’s form retreated in the distance, the DJ’s gut told her not to be so sure about what her prince promised. “You’d better be right, Branch. For your own sake.”

...........................................................................................................................

Branch was walking down the Castle-pod’s countless halls, making his way back to his and Poppy’s pod-room, a skip in his step due to how productive the day had turned out to be. “The moment Poppy sees how useful the Eyestalks are, she’s going to want them everywhere.” He optimistically thought to himself.

But just as he was rounding the corner to his room, a tray with their food in hand, a scream came out from inside. Hastily placing the tray on the floor, he ran towards the room where his wife was; he could recognise her screams anywhere. The day she’d almost been taken by a tarantapuff made sure to engrave the sound in his memory. He slammed the door open with a powerful kick…

Only to find his pink beauty wrestling with the Eyestalk he’d left with her.

“Listen up, you horticultural menace!” She cried out with an apparent note of frustration in her voice as she struggled against the plant’s vines. “The only ones I allow to lovingly tug me in are my father when I was a trolling and my husband when I’m having a bad day. And you’re neither! So if you step your boundaries one more time, so help me!”

Taking advantage of the plant’s fixation on his wife, Branch snuck behind it… And effectively took care of the problem by simply smacking and breaking the pot. He looked up at his wife, “You OK, Poppy?”

The pink princess let out a sigh of relief once she’d regained her breath. “Yeah, thank you.” She wiped the sweat in her brow away. “Boy, those things are crazy. I’m so glad we didn’t use them in the village.” She giggled.

The moment she said that, Branch started blushing furiously in embarrassment and turned his back on her so she wouldn’t see him. “Y-yeah! M-me, too!” He stuttered.

Poppy raised a suspicious eyebrow at him, “Why are you turning red?”

“O-oh!” He jumped at her question. He could still get his plan to work if he played his cards well. “I just remembered how much I love you, that’s all!”

Of course, he’d spent his whole life staying clear from bets and card games, so he was terrible gambler material. “Yeah…” Poppy drawled. “You gonna have to do better than that, Branch. ‘Cause you remembering how much you love me would imply that we could possibly forget, which you and I know it’s impossible.” She crossed her arms. “So you’d better spill: What’s. Going. On. Branch?” She made sure to enunciate every word slowly and clearly enough so he would get the point that lying to her was not the way to go.

Her husband tried to come up with a convincing enough story to stall her until he’d made sure what happened to her Eyestalk was just a fluke. Unfortunately, the moment his eyes landed on the broken pot with the dead plant, Poppy’s narrowed on him; her mind finally connecting the dots. She gasped. “Wait. Branch, did you use the Eyestalks in the village when I specifically told you not to?”

“W-well, yeah… But!” he put his hands up in defence, “…But they’re really useful Poppy! You’ll see, the kingdom’s never going to be safer than with these beauties.”

“Beauties?!” She all but screeched. “That thing basically put me under house arrest! It wouldn’t even let me go to the bathroom!”

The uncharacteristic scowl on her face as well as her exasperated tone indicated she was not in a good mood. But just as Branch was racking his brain to find something that would reassure her that everything was under control, she spat at him. “You know, Branch? For someone who’s been raised his whole life to respect hierarchies and protocol, you sure don’t give a cupcake when it applies to you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I”, she pointed at herself, ���am currently the Valley Kingdom’s Acting Queen, while you,” she was then pointing at him, “are my Prince Consort. According to your precious hierarchy, my decisions are above yours, and you should respect them!”

She was mad. Very, very mad. She was very, very mad at him. She was sure she’d never been this mad at him before. Not since she supposedly called him out on his behaviour on the Coming of Autumn Ball. But he’d crossed the line. It was one thing that they had different ways of looking after their subjects; that was what upbringing was for. But it was another thing entirely that he’d deliberately ignore his own kingdom’s teachings and her judgement on a matter that involved her kingdom.

She was so angry with him, she was sure she could’ve set her hair ablaze. But what he said next froze her to her very core.

“Look, Poppy. I know you were just trying to look out for your people, and that’s great! But really, when it comes to safety procedures, I’m the expert, so just leave it all to me. Just like I would leave party planning to you!”

For a moment, Poppy was completely motionless. His words repeating in her head on a loop. She was numb and disoriented from such a low blow... Until the numbness made way for the crushing weight of disappointment, accompanied by the freezing waves of sadness. Feelings that were sure to break her poor heart. Unconsciously, she gripped her sheets tighter, so tight her knuckles turned white. So that was what he thought of her? After all this time? He really saw her as a dumb pinkette, a funny but not very bright party girl who couldn’t take proper care of her trolls. After all they’d been through, he still thought she wasn’t good enough to rule. To him, she was still the lost child he scolded and belittled during his first months there. A child who clearly didn’t know anything about running a kingdom. He still treated her like an inconvenience, not a capable life partner who was worthy of being Queen by his side. Before she knew it, the tears were threatening to spill.

Worried from her lack of response, Branch tried to reach out a hand to her, “Poppy…?”

“I’m,” she tried to say, but the lump in her throat and the tears blurring her vision made it almost impossible, “I’m never gonna be good enough for you, am I?” She finally choked out.

The sound of his wife’s voice cracking and her tear-stained face immediately sent him into a panic. “What? Poppy, no! Y-you’re perfect for me!” He tried desperately to reason with her. “I just need you to trust me…”

“Trust?!” She screeched. He just put the last nail on the coffin. “You are talking to me about trust when it’s obvious you can’t trust my judgement?!” She let out a sardonic laugh. “That’s just rich!”

“Poppy, listen-“

“Get out.”

“What?”

“I said ‘get out’! I don’t want to see your face, you hear me?!”

The pink troll chose to ignore the pang of guilt she felt when she saw the hurt reflecting in his eyes; he wasn’t the one who’d just had a reality check that proved he’d never be someone she could count on. He wasn’t the one who’d just got two months of emotional abuse shoved back right in the face at full force.

But the plant lurking by the window didn’t choose to ignore how the troll their beloved prince claimed to care so much about just gave him the cold shoulder when he was just trying to help. It did choose, however, to get rid of the dangerous female once and for all…

............................................................................................................................

Still dumbfounded at how badly things had turned out, and hurt by Poppy’s words, Branch was stomping down the kingdom while grumbling to himself. “How could Poppy react like that? One little fluke and she just decided the Eyestalks aren’t good enough?” he rolled his eyes, “But of course, her father losing his mind was the sort of fluke she could totally ignore…” His eyes widened in shock when he registered his thoughts. He felt like slapping himself. Poppy was worried sick about her father and having a really hard time dealing with his condition. No matter how mad he might be, he should never use it against her.

Raising one hand, he rummaged through his hair until he found what he was looking for. When his eyes landed on the picture Biggie took of them during the cupcake fiasco from his birthday, he couldn’t help but tentatively stroke his wife’s laughing face. Seeing how happy they were even before confessing their feelings for one another always gave him hope that things between them would turn out OK. Funny how one little photo could bring him the hope he’d been missing for most of his life…

“I guess it’ll be best to let her cool down a little before bringing the Eyestalks up again…” he muttered quietly to himself. Before he knew it, he’d made it to the main square, but when his eyes landed on the scene before him, he stopped dead in his tracks. Wherever he looked, there were vines covering every inch of the place, trolls were being held against their will by the plants, and some of them were basically breathing down their necks about how they should live their lives. What had the plants done?

A familiar voice shook him away from his reverie. “Hi, Branch. Your friends like hugging, don’t they?” Biggie said from his vegetable confinement. Guy Diamond was as tied up as him. As if on cue, the vines started holding them tighter, almost cutting out their oxygen.

“We…loooooove…you…too!” The glitter troll choked out.

“What happened?” Branch asked in fright.

“Oh! W-we were just working on Guy’s fence w-when this weird plant, that seems to be everywhere now,” he muttered under his breath, but Branch’s enhanced hearing allowed him to make out the words, “came o-out of nowhere and s-started doing the job for us.” Biggie explained.

“Y-yeeeeah! And because we were s-suddenly free, we thought about t-taking a bath at the lake. But the moment I mentioned I hadn’t p-properly digested my lunch, the plant went craaaaazy! In the blink of an eye, there were dozens of them c-capturing trolls.” Guy finished in his auto-tuned voice.

“Sorry we couldn’t fight them off, but they caught us by surprise.” Biggie apologised.

“And where are my men?!” Branch was already trying to come up with a plan. If he assembled his men, together they could get rid of the plants. But there was one little problem: they were nowhere to be seen.

“Over here!”

When Branch turned around, he saw Suki, Mulberry, Arum, and Sap. They were captured as well. While Mulberry was upside down and blindfolded, Suki was glaring daggers at him.

“Oh, Sap! My darling!” Biggie cried, “Are you alright!?”

“I am, my love. Don’t worry. And you?”

“Better now that I know you’re safe.”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly identify being held hostage by a safety-obsessed plant as ‘being safe’ but… Ow! Really, Arum? Even now?!” Somehow, his sister had managed to find a way to smack him even when the both were tied up. Muttering obscenities under his breath, the Sargent returned his focus to Branch. “Hate to say it, but told ya! The Valley was not ready for Plan Five Delta Zero. Hm…you know what? I don’t hate it at all! Feels good to be in the right for once.”

“And I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Suki said, “but I so agree with you, Mulberry.”

“OK, now this is just weird.” Arum muttered.

Suki decided to ignore the two siblings bickering to address her prince. “I warned you this could blow up in your face, but did you listen? Nooooo.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Well, in all fairness, you warned me about the consequences this could bring to me and Poppy’s relationship. You never mentioned the plants could go rogue.” Branch tried to defend himself the best way he knew besides hand-to-hand combat; he used technicalities.

Suki merely hummed. “And how did that go?” The sight of Branch flinching was all she needed. “Yup. Told ya.”

“Look, never mind that. Because I’m going to put an end to this.”

“We’re afraid we can’t let you do that, Sire.”

The captured trolls’ eyes widened in shock, and Branch turned around just in time to witness how the Eyestalks had morphed themselves together into one giant plant with several eyes. Its voice a combination of the plants’ it was made of. “We have accomplished almost all our goals, Your Highness. The Valley Kingdom has never been safer!” They rejoiced.

“Why are you doing this?” Branch demanded to know, ready to unsheathe his sword.

“Why, because it is what you planted us for, of course!” They answered in their creepy monotone. "You wanted the kingdom to be safer, and that is exactly what we did. Are you not content with the result, Sire?” The plant seemed to be genuinely confused by their master’s disapproval of their actions.

“Of course not! You’re more of a danger to my subjects than anything that could come out of the forest!”

Despite Branch’s very specific outburst, the Eyestalks ignored his reasoning completely. “Oh, right! You are disappointed because we have not completed all our goals! But worry not, Sire. Our last objective is about to be met.”

For some reason, the grey troll had a bad feeling about that. “And that is?” He asked with caution.

“Why, to eliminate the pink menace who dare hurt you, your Highness!” Then it proceeded to play a scene where Poppy was being dragged through the floor by the all-seeing plants towards the mouth of a bigger, carnivore plant. “She is, by far, the biggest danger of all.”

Branch’s eyes widened in terror at the sight of his beloved about to be fed to the giant plant. She told him. She told him the Eyestalks were a bad idea that needed to be carefully thought through and he refused to listen, believing he knew which one was the best way to handle her kingdom. No wonder she was so upset. He’d unintentionally looked down on her and her leadership like he hadn’t done since the beginning of November. And now he was paying the price. He started all this because he didn’t want to risk losing her? Well, he was closer to losing her now than ever.

“Oh, my gah! Poppy was right, too much safety can be smothering! What have I done?” While he was on the verge of a full-scale panic attack, the distant sounds of Poppy’s screaming brought him back to reality. Right, he had to save her. He had to save her, and make everything right in the village, and apologise to Poppy for being an idiot. With a determined look in his eyes, Branch used his hair to swing from one branch to another, swiftly avoiding vine after vine. Landing on top of Cooper’s cupcake stand, he picked up a plater full of them and threw the tray at some of the Eyestalks that were coming his way, cutting their heads off with it. Just as he threw the plater away, he tossed the cupcakes that were on top of it inside his hair, and morphing it into a cannon, began shooting them at the safety-obsessed menace, effectively blinding them.

As he battled the vicious plant, there was but one thought running cross his mind, “I’m coming, Poppy.”

Poppy was rightfully terrified. First she had a Flyer Bug accident that forced her to go through several dreadful days of bedrest, and now she was about to be eaten by a glorified insecticide? This clearly wasn’t her week.

The worst part was that her sprained ankle made it impossible to fight back when the Eyestalks were first capturing her. She felt so useless… Maybe Branch was right and she didn’t know how to take care of her kingdom… Seeing how she was getting closer and closer to the carnivore plant’s gigantic mouth, she closed her eyes shut. Her biggest regrets were not living long enough to become the queen her people needed and deserved, and parting ways with Branch in bad terms. How she wished they could just be cuddling in bed, instead of being about to die.

She prepared herself for the upcoming crunch! she was sure to feel when the giant plant bit her, but instead she heard something being sliced. Right before a hand swoop her up and positioned her protectively behind a very strong body she knew very well. Hair, she wished she could hug that same body one last time just seconds ago! “Branch?” she gasped.

“Yeah, Poppy. It’s me.” He sent her a small smile before turning serious again. “Now stay behind me! I’m about to end this!”

She did as she was told and witnessed her husband unsheathe his sword. While she felt extremely uncomfortable around sharp objects that could injure others, she had to admit her husband was an expert swordsman. He moved with ease, blocking any attack that came his way and slicing any Eyestalk that was foolish enough to get too close. But after a while she could feel him growing anxious, his breathing shallow and his eyes darting to any direction.

“Branch, what’s wrong?” She gently put a hand on his shoulder.

“They’re cornering us, I’m running out of moves!” He panted. The Eyestalks took that moment of distraction to strip him of his sword, rightfully declaring it was a danger. Seeing no escape and understanding he’d brought it on himself for being too impulsive when trying to be cautious, Branch slumped his shoulders and sent a regretful look at his dear wife. She was the most important person in his life and he’d been enough of an idiot to endanger her.

“Poppy, you were right. I never should’ve acted before having your approval on the matter. I’m so sorry.”

The pink-haired troll smiled at him, tears already forming in the corners of her eyes. She threw herself at his arms and hugged him tightly. “You should be.” She broke the hug slightly to give him one last slow, passionate kiss on the lips. “I love you.” She whispered.

“I love you too.” He said back, hugging her just as tightly.

They awaited for their bitter end, but when it didn’t come, they both opened their eyes to see the Eyestalks weren’t responding. “Not…danger?” One of them asked.

“Yes!” Branch exclaimed. “She’s not dangerous! She loves me and I love her too! Sure, she hurt my feelings, but I hurt hers, too. And…she was right; too much safety can be smothering.”

Poppy could only smile at her husband. He admitted to her being right! She was so happy she could just kiss him all over again. But before she had a chance, she was interrupted by the Eyestalks malfunctioning, incapable of processing that there could be something as ‘too much safety.’

Soon, only one remained. “Awesome!” it chanted.

“Branch, look! This one seems to get it!”

“Yeah…” he wrapped his hair around his sword before pointing at the plant with it. “Well, better take care of it!”

“Wait!” His wife put a hand on his chest to stop him. “I think I have a better idea.”

...............................................................................................................................

The pod-room’s window was placed so Poppy and Branch could have a perfect view of the kingdom even from bed. Which was a good thing, considering the princess was still on bedrest and standing up would certainly tire her out. But they had a perfect view of the harmless Eyestalk, who was now directing the Flyer Bugs so there wouldn’t be more accidents, from where they lay.

“You were right, Poppy. That is the perfect way to keep the village safe.” Branch said as he put one arm around her shoulders before bringing her close to him.

“Told ya!” she giggled as she snuggled closer to his side.

“Yeah, you did…” he whispered, “Just like you told me too much safety could be smothering, and I ignored you…” he looked away, ashamed of himself.

“Aw, Branch… It’s OK. Sure, it was a very stupid mistake, but we all make those sometimes!” she wiggled her eyebrows at him in a playful manner. “Have you forgotten already about that time I ate a poisonous berry that turned me into this huge, round thing?”

That earned her a snicker from her husband. “Besides, I was too harsh on you. Sorry I yelled at you.”

“Sorry?” He asked, incredulous. “Poppy, I’m the one who’s sorry!” He used his free hand to point at himself. “I didn’t get it when we fought, but the moment I saw what the Eyestalks had turned into, it was crystal clear.” Gah, how he hated when Suki was right…”I stepped on your toes. As Acting Queen you decided to think things first before changing anything in the village, and I, as your husband, the troll who’s supposed to trust and support you more than anyone else, acted like I knew best…” He finished, the guilt apparent in his voice. “I’m truly sorry, Poppy.”

Poppy just sent him one of those radiant smiles that ignited a fire in his heart every time he saw them. Just what was life before this wonderful creature became a part of his world? “Thank you, Branch. That’s all I wanted to hear, a sincere apology.” She leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “And I forgive you.” Feeling like he’d fallen even more for his pink beauty, the grey troll brought her into a sweet kiss. When they broke it, she snickered, “Though, gotta warn you! Another stunt like that and my most reliable troll will end up being Smidge! And you know she’ll physically fight you for that title!”

Branch burst out laughing at that. It was true, the teaspoon troll’s devotion to Poppy was deep enough to rival his, and he was her mate! “Then I sure hope it doesn’t come to that!” he joked, making Poppy giggle. With eyes full of love and a fast beating heart, he whispered, “I love you so much, Poppy.”

She smiled back at him, “I love you too, Branch.” Then she began getting comfortable in bed, “Now, c’mon! I believe someone owes me some extra cuddles!”

And the two drifted to a peaceful sleep in each other’s arms…

.............................................................................................................................

“The end!” A male glitter troll with watermelon pink skin and sparkling white hair said, closing a binder full of notes. “And with that it can be concluded that His Majesty, King Branch, didn’t always care for his wife the Queen as much as he was known for doing.”

A completely disinterested female glitter troll, who looked very much like her brother except for having bright red skin, simply rolled her eyes from where she was standing. “For the last time, Charles,” she said, exasperated. “How many times do I have to tell you to check your sources?! That is clearly not how the Eyestalk Crisis happened!” She walked to where he was, until their faces were barely a hair apart. “King Branch was hopelessly in love with Queen Poppy since day 1! Stop with your nonsense, already!”

“It’s not nonsense, Monique!” Charles retorted. ”Their Majesties didn’t always have the loving relationship they are known for today, and I can prove it!”

She sighed, “How?”                    

“Simple.” He grinned before holding out his binder for her to see. “Grandpa told me everything!”

Monique face-palmed herself. “And you believed him? Charles, Grandpa has a fondness for making up stories! You might as well have used Trollipedia and it would’ve been much more accurate!”

“Oh, yeah? And how do you explain the Mandolin Incident, huh?!”

Her brother would be the death of her and of the entire historian community. “For the last time! The mandolin wasn’t properly made, the princess got stabbed with a splinter and the prince, in an act of overprotectiveness over his dear wife, got rid of it for hurting her. Seriously, dude! Check your sources!”

Apparently, the truth behind Queen Poppy and King Branch’s marriage would be one of the best hidden secrets in Trolls history.

[shotsbyshae]

Devil’s Playground

Warnings: Language, Murder, Bloody, Smutty (18+)

Words: 2.1k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Song: Devil’s Playground by The Rigs

A/N: Monster of the Week. The second part of Kill of The Night.

 You can tread where demons play.

3 Months Earlier

Silver. Iron. Salt. Holy water.

You had prepped Steve on the more basic monsters: ghosts, ghouls, vampires, werewolves, and demons. Ever the perfect student, writing in his notebook, as he asked follow up questions. This wouldn’t last long once you had America’s golden boy in the field though. Captain America wasn’t a killer and to be a hunter usually meant kill or be killed. This guy wouldn’t stand a chance and you could still hear the sound of Dean’s laughter on the phone at the idea of it. He was nothing like you, it takes a special breed to be a hunter and Steve Rogers wasn’t cut out for it.

“Here’s the address,” you handed him a slip of paper. “Meet me there around nine tonight. Don’t wear the suit.” You punctuated the last sentence, pointing your index finger at him.

“I’ll be there.”

And he was.

Early in fact, dressed in boots, jeans, and a long-sleeve blue Henley, which clung to every serum enhanced muscle a man shouldn’t even possess.

It was ridiculous.

You wish he’d worn the fucking suit instead.

“Ready?” he questioned you, which snapped your thoughts back to the task at hand.

“Yea,” you passed him a machete. “Remember, off with the head. That’s the only way.”

“Got it.”

The two of you had made your way into the rundown facility slowly, home to a small nest of vamps, four to six. Enough to be a challenge for you, but not enough to get Captain America killed.

What happened next you weren’t prepared for.

You had moved quickly, blade slicing easily through the first vamp who lunged for you, all while keeping an eye on Rogers. Two women rushed toward him while guttural snarls ripped from their chests as they revealed their fangs. Without hesitation Steve moved with more finesse than a hunter with twice your experience.

You hesitated.

He twirled the machete in his hand as two separate heads bounced off the concrete around him, bodies dropping where they stood. Another vamp was making its way towards him and you couldn’t tear your eyes away as Steve went toe to toe with that one. Why was he fighting it instead of killing it right off and you realized he wasn’t fighting, he was playing with it.

Like a cat with a mouse.

You stood there slack-jawed even as one lunged for you. A quick back handed swing and you had decapitated your attacker without even looking – perks of vamp hearing. Steve kicked the next guy, knocking him back, and you had saw the expression on his face.

He was enjoying it.

Captain America wasn’t a killer.

But is wasn’t Captain America, it was Steve Rogers.

His jaw clenched as he swung the machete with his right hand like a baseball bat. An almost primal sound escaped his lips, and you knew it was him, because there were no more vampires in the building.

Blood was splattered across his face, staining his shirt in small splotches of dark red. The muscles in his arm rippled underneath the material as he gripped the machete tighter in his hand. A slight rise and fall of his shoulders as his breaths came slow and shallow. He scanned the room slowly for anymore vamps, before his gaze landed on you.

The look in his eyes was cold – dark.

You had underestimated him.

For a moment you wondered if he’d kill you too.

“What?” he questioned you as you stared at him in bewilderment.

You shook your head, “Nothing.”

“You know,” he began as he pointed the machete at you, barely able to contain the morbid excitement in his voice. “I read a newspaper article earlier. I think there might be a werewolf two towns over.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes at him, “Easy tiger. One hunt at a time.”

Now

The ping of your phone alerts you to a text message and pick it up from your desk to read it.

Steve: Road trip? I have us a case.

You let out a sigh and quickly type in your response.

I can’t. I’m busy.

There’s an immediate knock on your door and you glance over in annoyance before standing up and moving over to open it.

“No, you’re not,” Steve states as soon as you pull open the door, brushing his way past you into your room.

“Really?”

“Tony’s out of the country. Everything’s quiet,” he says, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Let’s get out of here.”

He acts as if he didn’t have his tongue down your throat almost a month ago. Neither of you have brought it up, spent more time doing damage control on Tony finding out you’re a vampire. It was purely an adrenaline rush – blood rush. That’s why you stick to blood bags, less emotion that way.

“I don’t know Steve.”

“Please,” he says it softly.

It’s not like he can go to anyone else, no one else knows what you and he do in the shadows. A secret only the two of you share and you sigh because Steve Rogers is going to be the death of you.

“Fine.”

***

“No,” you stomp your foot like a hormonal teenager. “I’m done. I need a drink. A bed. A real shower. Preferably not in that order.” Steve stares at you, there’s blood splattered across your cheek and a chunk of something bloody and gooey in your hair. He reaches to pull it out gently, tossing it to the side before you can see it. “It’s been three days. First the ghost, then a wraith, now a ghoul. I need a break.”

The two of you have been going non-stop since you left the compound. He’d been going non-stop. You were only along for the ride. There’s a freedom in hunting, unlike anything he’s found before. The stress of being the strait-laced leader. The one everyone looks to for guidance. It can take a toll on even the strongest of men.

“Okay, I saw a hotel on the way in,” he comments.

“It better have a bar.”

It does, as well as large suites with king size beds and giant jacuzzi tubs, much nicer than the rundown fleabag motels you’re used to staying in. Being an Avenger has its advantages. Unfortunately, being a vampire has its disadvantages. You’re hungry. You hadn’t planned on being gone so long and now your out of blood bags. Having used your last one to heal the damage when the wraith had slammed it’s spike into your chest.

After a long, scorching hot shower, you get dressed and head down to the bar. Intent on drinking idly while searching for someone you can use. You don’t like it, but you won’t take much, and they won’t remember a thing.

 Steve stops as he enters the room, seeing you at the bar. The black dress you’re wearing is Romanoff’s, he recognizes it, wondering if you found it on the quinjet. Your legs on full display, shimmering in the blue glow of the bar lighting. Hair falls down around your face and your eyeshadow is dark, a contrast to the almost red tint to your lips.

It’s obvious you’re hunting a different prey.

Beautiful, breathtakingly so, is how anyone else would describe you, but they don’t know you like he does. Those manicured fingers can rip out hearts, he’s witnessed it.

He loved it.

You’re fucking dangerous, gorgeously so.

“Any luck?” he questions, moving to sit beside you at the bar.

“No,” your tone sounds irritated, “and I won’t as long as you’re sitting there.”

“So,” he remarks with that cocky grin you’ve grown to despise.

“Really? That’s low. I’m hungry,” you shake your head at him. “I would never stand between you and a cheeseburger.”

“Who said I’m standing in the way?” he leans back, raising an eyebrow as his hands subtly turn inward towards himself.

“Not a good idea,” you say, picking up your glass.

“You’ve done it before.”

Now he wants to talk about it, you think to yourself as you take a sip of your Crown and Coke.

“That was different,” you finally say.

“How so?”

“It was an emergency.”

“Bull shit.”

“What?” you cut your eyes over to him incredulously at his tone, the smug smile playing at his lips angering you.

“I think you liked it,” he says smoothly, “and I think that scares you.”

Steve watches your jaw clench, his words striking a nerve, causing a rage to boil just under the surface of your façade.

Madness contained.

You stand calmly and turn sharply on your heel, walking away from the bar without so much as a word to him.

He catches up to you on the elevator, sliding inside before the doors close and you roll your eyes as he leans against the opposite wall from you, arms folded across his chest.

“I didn’t – that came out wrong,” he stumbles over the words. “I’m sorry.”

You stare straight ahead, refusing to look at him, urging the elevator to move faster. Desperately needing to be away from him.

  “I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t ask me?” his words are soft.

You glance up at him as the doors open. How he can be so rough and cocky, yet soft and innocent at the same time still astounds and agitates you. He follows you off the elevator, walking past the door you stop at to his.

“I won’t ever ask,” you state as you open the door, glancing over at him. He’s swiping his keycard into the lock as he looks back you. “I don’t like who I am when I feed.” You begin to walk into your room, his next words stopping you for a moment.

“You should, because everything about you is amazing.”

There’s a moment of silence before you close the door to your room, leaving Steve to enter his alone. He tosses the keycard on the small table by the door before moving to sit in the desk chair beside the bed. Grabbing the remote from the desk he presses the power button, bringing the flat screen across the room to life and discards the controller haphazardly on top of the duvet cover next to him. He pulls the boots from his feet, staring blankly at the TV screen as a black and white film plays quietly.

The turn of the lock on the door which separates your room from his draws his attention away from the TV and he leans back in the chair. The door jerks open revealing you, still in the black dress, but your feet are bare, and you stride purposefully towards him. Steve locks his eyes with yours as you lower yourself onto his lap, a little roll of your hips making him shift under your weight. His hands are still at his sides, still unsure of what’s happening, and he feels you grab his right wrist in your hand. Watching as you pull his arm up between the two of you, keeping your eyes locked on his as you place your lips on his pulse point.

A soft, tender kiss.

The pure rawness of the moment twists something deep within him.  His free hand moves to the side of your face, thumb sweeping gently across your cheekbone as your lips part revealing your fangs. Strikingly white against the red tint of your plush lips. The slight pinch as you puncture the vein causes him to twitch against the fabric of his pants and you feel it, grinding your hips against him again. Desire pulsing through him as you draw him in. Watching your face soften from the ecstasy of it, your eyes full of need – for him.

When your lips pull away from his wrist, his hand drags your face to his, pressing his lips to yours gently. You taste like cherries and copper and it’s heaven. He tries to hold back, fighting the urge to devour you, but you don’t as you force your tongue roughly into his mouth. His hands tangle in your hair as yours tear at his pants. A wet, hot, need radiating from your core as you free him and moan against his tongue as you slide down around him. His fingers claw into your hips as he fills and stretches you with each rise and fall of your hips. He peppers kisses down your neck until he reaches the pulse point there, scraping his teeth against your skin until he bites down on your flesh, feeling you clench around him. The small cries that slip past your lips against his ear are raw and so intimate as he shatters you, that it’s enough to do him in.

He’s spent a lot of time fighting his demons. Not embracing his dark side.

Then you happened. Hunting and monsters.

You freed him.

He finally stopped fighting his demons.

Because your demons play well with his.