#the longer the drought went on the less likely they appear to be

[afterlife-2004]

[thisreadswhatever]

Only Mine

find my masterlist here

[description]: jax teller x fem!reader

[wordcount]: 2.4k

[cw]: 18+ only, smut, jealous overprotective Jax, angst, short fight scene (if you can even call it that), car sex, oral f receiving, teasing, unfinished sex

[authors note]: I had this idea floating around for awhile and then this request inspired the rest! thank you!

“I’m sure you say that to all the ladies.” 

You were along the bar, chin in palm, blinking your lashes at the man sitting beside you. He smiled back wryly. He was pretty perfect. Clean cut, slightly muscular, no tats covering him from top to bottom, no bike sitting in the parking lot. He was a little cocky, aware of his good looks, and in all honesty, any other day he’d be the type of guy you’d usually find pretty boring. But for tonight, he’d be a welcome distraction. 

“So you’re really here alone?” the man asked, looking around as he took a sip from the glass in front of him. 

You smiled back, twisting a strand of hair into your fingers as you sipped your beer, “that surprise you?” 

“Someone like you doesn’t come around here often. Can't imagine you haven’t been snatched up yet.” 

Technically, he was right. Jax and you hadn’t spoken in days, and although the mutual silence was a regular occurrence, you somehow always found a way back to each other. It never had been made ‘official’, but it never really needed to be. You both stuck to each other like the end poles of magnets, impossible to keep apart yet impossible to stay together. You and Jax were a burning flame amongst a sea of trees condemned to an endless drought. Your love was toxic and infuriating, and it pained you both how hurtful you could be to one another. Yet for some reason, you always went back. You’d reconnect, one of you would fuck up, and then it was back to square one all over again. 

“Haven’t found the one yet”, you teased. 

He gestured to the bartender with his hand, “can I buy you another beer?” 

You smiled politely back at him, “you can buy me as many as you want.”

You picked up your drink and pulled his hand with your other as you led him to one of the quiet booths settled at the back of the bar. You spent the next hour cosying up to your stranger, soaking in the attention he gave you. He was overly attentive and extremely polite, almost a little too nice for your liking. No roughness on the edges, no fight in him. Just a gentleman through and through. You sat inches from each other, tension building as the drinks continued to appear. 

“Can I kiss you?” The man asked as he leaned in, hovering above your face. It wasn’t often you were asked to be kissed. You stared into his eyes through your long lashes, nodding in approval.

He smiled shyly into your lips as they pressed against his. He was gentle, his hands slowly moving to your waist, never straying further. 

He laid back into the bench, taking a sip from his beer. “You know I never did catch your name.” 

You didn’t want to share anything with this stranger, the anonymity bringing less questions and expectations. 

“Later.” 

You cupped his face in your hand, grazing his jaw with your fingertips as you brought his mouth to yours again.

He was nice, but the longer you spent kissing your gentle stranger, the more you yearned to be in the hands of your depraved biker. Jax was urgent and desperate for you each time you were in his arms. There was a mutual desire that turned you both into crazed maniacs when you were together. It was something you’d searched for every time you were with someone else, because nobody you’d ever come across had given you that same feeling. 

Jax had a way of turning you into the only girl in the world. Until he was fucking the next croweater who threw themselves at him the following day. 

Tonight, you were going to allow yourself to enjoy the gentlemen in front of you. You leaned back into the bench, trying to edge him on top of you as you sunk into the bench against his lips.

You were so entangled in your stranger that you never even noticed him arrive with half of The Club. It wasn’t until you were interrupted by the break in your lips as he was pulling the man off you by his shirt, forcing him to the floor as he was knocked flat on his back. 

“Jax!”

“Dude! What the fu-“ he tried to stand up, but Jax placed his shoe directly on his chest, crushing him to the ground. The man grunted under the weight, failing to pry the shoe off of him. “What the fuck are you doing!?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” He pressed down into the man’s chest harder, restraining himself from crushing his rib cage all together. 

The stranger looked at you with wide eyes, trying to speak through the force compounding his lungs, “she said she was alone!” 

Jax smiled at him as he laid spread out on the dirty bar floor. 

“I don’t give shit what she said. Your time is up, pretty boy.”  

You were ashamed to admit that you thoroughly enjoyed watching Jax furious with envy over you, but you did feel bad for the innocent guy beneath his sneaker. 

“Get the fuck off him, Jax.” 

He glanced up at you, taking a long look at your flushed pink cheeks and swollen lips.

The crowded bar was now zoned in on your table, watching and entertained by the drama unfolding. Chibs, Juice and Bobby guarded the table, ensuring no onlookers got in the way of Jax’s jealous fuelled rage. 

He picked the man up by his collar, pulling him to his feet as he threw him against the wall. Jax gripped at his jaw, lifting his chin to force his eyes towards you at the bench. “I suggest you apologise for bothering my girl.” 

“Jax don’t be ridiculous-“ 

He ignored you, glaring at the man in his grasp, tightening the grip on his collar. 

“I’m sorry, okay!” 

“Not to me, asshole. To her.” 

You rolled your eyes, watching as he tormented the innocent stranger you had set yourself upon.

“I’m sorry I bothered you.” His voice cracked from the hold Jax had on his collar, draining the circulation from his neck.

Jax shoved the man off the wall, releasing him as he was once again flown across the laminate. He stumbled to regain his balance before he started running, bolting for the exit. He disappeared at the speed of light, chuckles from Juice and Chibs echoing through the bar as he ran. 

You stood up from the bench, storming off in anger for the door. 

Jax followed you into the empty, dark car park outside the bar. His hands stuffed into his pockets as he watched you slump against the brick wall, sliding down to sit on the pavement. You put a cigarette to your mouth as you searched for a lighter in your bag. You hadn’t felt tipsy until the air hit you, realising your head was spinning.

He paced over to you, crouching forward with his lighter, igniting the cigarette between your lips. 

“You’re such a prick sometimes, you know that?” 

Jax slid down the wall beside you, his legs bent slightly at the knees as he sighed to himself, lighting his own cigarette. “Not gonna argue with that.” 

He exhaled a large cloud of smoke as he spoke, “but you were basically fucking that guy in an open bar, y/n.” 

“First of all, no I wasn’t.” 

He chuckled, amused by your irritation. 

“And second of all, what the fuck has that got to do with you? You’re the one who decided to get knee deep in Ima last week, again.” 

“I told you I was drunk.” 

“And now I’m drunk too”, you protested.

He shook his head as smoke escaped his lips, fingers twirling the silver lighter in his hands. “That isn’t going to happen again.”

Your head fell back as you groaned at his promise, leaning against the hard brick behind you. “Yeah, ‘cause I haven’t heard that one before.” 

He smiled, nudging your leg with his playfully. “You know I mean it. Doesn’t matter who I’m inside, there's only one face I see.” 

You turned your head towards him, leaning your face on his shoulder. “I’m tired of this, Jax. You and your mommy issues are giving me whiplash.” 

“Yeah, well your baggage ain’t so easy to handle either.” He placed a hand over the back of your head, stroking your hair as he spoke.

You responded with a punch to his knee, swaying his leg. “You can’t just keep beating men up because they’re interested in me. That guy was actually sweet.” 

He threw his cigarette across the pavement before he grasped his hands into your hair, entangling his fingers between the strands. He crushed his lips against yours, his tongue lapping into your mouth. His fingers smoothed against your face, the feeling of his cold rings brushing against your cheek. Your foreheads connected as your eyes closed, resting silently along each other. “I can be sweet too.” 

You chuckled, playfully biting his lip. “You’re a sweet, jealous prick, Teller.”

He pulled into you once more, pecking your lips slowly before escalating into your lips, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him there in the lot, surrounded by empty parked cars in the dead of night. His hands gripped at your waist, pulling your body tighter to him, the feeling of his erection pressing into your jeans. Your hands twisted into his hair, holding his head against yours. He smirked against your lips, trailing his hands lower to your ass, as he secured his hands in your back pockets. He stroked your cheek with his nose, kissing the pink tinted skin.

“I just don’t like sharing what’s mine.” 

Your mouth found his as you raised your eyebrows, mumbling into his lips, “then take what's yours.”

He grinned, lifting you in one swift motion from his lap, standing you up against him. He pulled you across the parking lot as you stumbled drunk, trying to keep up. He led you to your car, opened the back door and pushed you flat against the back seat. 

Jax laid above you, planting himself between your legs. He angled himself between the seats, crushing his mouth against yours. His touch was ravenous, ripping the buttons from your jeans waistband as he pulled the denim from your ass. You giggled as he struggled to get them off entirely between the leather of the flat seat. You lifted yourself up, helping as he removed them. He pulled at your shirt, lifting it higher to expose the skin around your stomach as he leaned into you, gnawing at the skin in short pecks from your navel to your now exposed panties. You grasped at his hair as he claimed you with his warm mouth, suffocating himself into the fabric that covered your mound. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking soaked for me.” He groaned at the taste of your slick pooling into the cotton, pulling your panties to the side. He circled his tongue against your clit, watching you, utterly mesmerised as you whimpered at the sensation. He rolled his thumb against your dripping fold, “this pretty cunt is mine.” 

Vibrations filled your entire being as he nuzzled into your mound, lapping his tongue repeatedly against your slick, his hands lifting your ass to push deeper into you. You tugged at the roots of his blonde hair, drunken moans of his name filling the car park as you struggled to keep quiet. He pulled away, his face glistening from your juices as he smirked at you, caressing his fingers against your pussy. “You want your sweet guy to finish you off?”

Your head fell back at the taunt, “c’mon Jax, don’t- stop-”

He pulled your panties down your ass, exposing your cunt entirely. His tongue stroked you, prodding at your swollen nub, before hesitating again. “Tell me you’re mine.” 

“Fuck, Jax- I’m- yours. I’m only yours.” The words trailed slowly from your gritted teeth, your head swirling from the feeling and the beer. You chased for his mouth, drawing your hips up closer to his face.

“Look at me when you tell me.”

You used all your might to lift your head from the seat, finding his eyes staring into yours, fire blazing within them. You spoke between your sharpened breaths, trying to form a coherent sentence. “I said- I’m yours.”

“I can’t hear you, darlin’. You’re only what?” 

Your head collapsed into the leather seat, cries escaping your lips as you squirmed your hips higher to find his mouth again. “I’m yours- Jax- shit-”

“That’s my pretty girl.” 

He stoked his tongue against your clit, enjoying every moment as you pleaded through your moans for him to take you to your climax. He was revelling in your anguish as he teased at your cunt. He played with your folds again, his fingers caressing the soaking skin. 

“No other man comes near my pussy, isn’t that right?”

You groaned in response, his claim on you sending you further into spiral. “No- no one else.”

His lips reconnected to your cunt, whimpers of desperation pouring from your lips. His fingers finally found your entrance, rewarding you as he slid into your seam, pushing you towards your release. 

He muttered into your mound, “you only cum for me.”

Your body exploded at his instruction, collapsing onto his fingers as they curled against your sweet spot, his mouth soaking in your orgasm. He delighted at your unravelling, his hands travelling your body as he found your breasts, kneading into the soft skin.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Let go for me.” Your thighs shook around his face uncontrollably, squeezing his head into your cunt.

He released his hand from your mound, hovering over you as his lips laid flush against yours. He danced around your mouth, forcing you to taste your slick that covered his tongue. Jax straddled over your hips, holding himself up against the headrest of the seat as his throbbing cock found your entrance. He positioned himself, sliding between the folds, a squeal escaping your throat as he filled you entirely. 

Before he could fuck you senseless, a loud repeated bang was heard against the hood of the car, startling you both.

“Jackie boy! We gotta go!”

Jax collapsed against you, groaning in frustration. If you weren’t so drunk from Jax and the beer, you would’ve been furious. Instead you giggled, amused by the interruption, “Chib’s and his impeccable timing.” He sighed, his head resting against your chest. 

He pulled out from you, as you rushed to put your underwear back in its place. He smirked against your mouth as he kissed you one last time, parting your lips between his, "guess I’ll just have to finish claiming you later.”

read part two here

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

No Kids**

This is a quick smutty one about husband/dad Harry finally having sex with Y/N, his wife, after a several month long drought.

Warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, talk of pregnancy, lactation.

WC: 3.1k

Check out the rest of my writing here:)

When Harry’s alarm went off at 6:30am you groaned softly before turning away from his body to allow him to either get out of bed or snooze it. You were accustomed to the former; Harry was very serious about sticking to his workout regimen and hardly ever missed a day at either the yoga studio, pilates bar, the pool, or a simple run around the neighborhood. In other words you were used to mornings alone now. 

It wasn’t as bad as it sounded. You quite liked this actually; stretching out on the bed and taking up as much space as you wanted (even if it was a king mattress), not feeling too hot with Harry’s furnace of a body around you, nor too cold because he’d sometimes kick off the covers when he felt too stuffy. And most importantly, for the next 15 or so minutes you would enjoy absolute and unbothered silence. The kids wouldn’t be un until at least 6:45 if they were right on schedule and you cherished that time alone, there didn’t seem to be very much of it in supply these days. So as you felt Harry’s weight roll away you smiled, getting ready to enjoy the best part of your day. His alarm stopped and next thing you knew he was rolling back towards you and pulling you back into his chest. It was strange to you, even more so as you felt him hard against your backside.

Marriage, kids, the white picket fence dream, it had its perks but it also had its downsides. Like your life wasn’t yours anymore and Harry’s wasn’t Harry’s anymore, your lives were devoted to your kids now and they took up a lot of your time. Harry was still as busy as ever. He assumed that after taking a nearly year long hiatus from the scene his demand would decrease and he could ease back into the limelight, but it appeared that the limelight had been eagerly awaiting his return. Music had a pretty basic year without his unapologetically himself sound in the mix of it all. Fashion was the same, there wasn’t someone out there who was both daring and confident enough to pull anything off. While he still didn’t have too much film under his belt, people were always trying to sign him onto their projects and well, you had seen a film or two that he’d turned down and you could picture just how much better the film would’ve been if he had accepted. 

Harry had started his hiatus on the 6 month of your second pregnancy. You had a 1 year old who you couldn’t manage alone from there on out. But as he neared month 10 of his hiatus he was so fucking restless and antsy that it was driving you insane. Yes, he was still very hands-on and helpful with the kids, but he was clearly distracted and you could tell that he was struggling to not go back to work. You didn’t want him to feel like he couldn’t do both things, that was the point of the hiatus to help him transition into being a father of two, to help him figure out how to balance everything. So you talked about it and just a few weeks later he was back in the studio with his usual crew and had put an album together in a little less than three months. He’d be gone for days sometimes, you were used to that from before, but it was a little different this time because when he came back It wasn’t like you just locked yourselves away to make up for lost time like before. No, now when he came back it was to baby barf, poopy diapers, crying, mischievous 2 year old, and an exhausted you- there wasn’t time for them and it did create some distance. All of this to say that you and Harry hadn’t had sex in 6 months, maybe a little longer. So, feeling his hard-on rocking against your bum was unexpected. And while you would normally be thrilled, this was alone time, this was your 15 minutes of peace and the fact that he was taking that away from you was a bit disappointing.

“What are you doing?” You mumbled tiredly, “Shouldn’t you be off to work out?” You grumbled.

“What are you talking about?” he smiled, you could hear it in his voice as he responded.

“The kids’ll be up in like 10 minutes and I just need these couple of minutes to have a proper power nap, H.” you grumbled and he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“Baby, no kids today. They’re at your parents’ remember?” He asked lowly as he peeled the thin strap of your pajama top off of your shoulder and continued sponging kisses up and down from your shoulder to the base of your neck. Your eyes fluttered open as you recalled that yes, indeed there were no kids around today. You two had gone out the night before. Nothing crazy, Just dinner and a little underground indie show in Hollywood. Your parents agreed to have the kids until you guys came over for dinner the following day.

“Right.” You hummed, your mood changing almost immediately. He even felt your body relax more in his arms and he smiled.

“So?” He whispered near your ear suggestively, “Does my wife want t’fuck?” He asked as one of his hands slid down your center and rubbed your clit through your shorts. You whimpered softy as you got more and more aroused.

In moments Harry had you on your back and naked as he kissed up your thighs. He hadn’t gone down on you since…well you couldn’t remember, but it was at some point early on in your pregnancy. So feeling his hot breath fanning over you as he held your legs open was the ultimate form of foreplay. You were basically going to be done for when he licked your clit. And boy, he did not disappoint as his tongue and fingers played with all of your most sensitive spots. His fingers were curled deep inside of you, pulsing against your g-spot as his tongue flicked deliciously at your clit, you were seeing spots as your mouth parted in a silent cry. You were so close! You exhaled shakily and then pulled a pillow over your face as you felt your orgasm approaching.

Harry was pulling out all of the stops to make you feel good and he was frustrated that you weren’t responding how you usually would, but when he spared a glance up and saw you holding a pillow over your face it dawned on him that you forgot that you could be loud right now. He smiled and pulled his mouth away from your center and your high started to fizzle out and you removed the pillow to look down at him already glancing up at you from between your legs.

“No kids.” Harry reminded and you gigged quietly.

“Right. No kids.” You hummed happily as he started fucking you faster with his fingers.

“So I want to hear you, baby.” He urged, “Can you do that f’me, baby?” Harry asked and you nodded. As soon as he got your confirmation he got back to using his mouth on you and you let out a satisfied moan.

“Yes. Mmmfuck, that feels so good…” You sighed in pleasure as you heard the slurping and wet sounds of his mouth and fingers working up your orgasm quickly again. “Ohmygod, ohmygod!” Your slurred your words together as you felt the muscles in your stomach start to tense. You could feel your walls throbbing around his fingers and he groaned against your pussy as he felt it too, you were so close for him. He hadn’t made you come in ages and he just wanted to make you feel good again. Like he used to. “I-I’m coming!” You mewled as your back arched and hips bucked up as you planted your feet on the mattress. Harry moaned as he fucked your g-spot more intentionally as your cries got louder and louder and before he knew it you were very softly squirting into the palm of his hand. He was doing his best to follow the movement of your hips to ensure that he saw your orgasm through all the way and boy, did he. He didn’t even mean to make you come twice, but after removing his fingers from you he just use his mouth to clean you up a bit and ease you off of the intensity of your orgasm, but soon he was holding your thighs apart as they threatened to lock around his head and suffocate him against your swollen and messy pussy as you came for him once more.

You felt like your throat and chest were on fire as you struggled to breathe properly as the pleasure from your orgasm rippled through your body beautifully. The feeling giving you that little spark of energy you had been missing for a while now. Soon that feeling started becoming a bit much and you whimpered as you pushed Harry’s head away and he quickly pulled off of your clit and kissed your inner thighs, then your mons, then your lower stomach, and up your torso, sternum, neck and then jaw, and finally he was hovering over your lips wearing a victorious smile before he kissed you deeply for a few moments.

“God, I forgot how good you are at that.” You panted and he smirked, but that soon faded. “What?” You asked with concern.

“You shouldn’t forget how good it feels. I’m sorry.” He said lowly and you shook your head.

“Oh baby, it’s not your fault. Things are just different now.” You said and that didn’t seem to make him feel better.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that we should neglect ourselves.” He said and you sighed.

“Well H, I don’t think we’re neglecting ourselves. I think we just indulge in different things now. Like my 15 minutes of undisturbed sleep after you leave and before the kids wake up.” You explained, “I don’t even know how many times I’ve caught you dozed off in your office…we've got other things going on now so we just need different things than before.” You reasoned, “And that doesn’t mean we don’t need these kinds of things, we just need other things more now.” You concluded.

“I get that but… I should appreciate you more and everything that you do.” He said quietly, “I need to do more to remind you that I love you and that I’m still interested in you in that way, you know? Make you feel like my girl, not just like my wife and mother of my children.” He said and you smiled.

“You’re sweet.” You hummed at his words.

“I’m serious. Baby, I’m still in love with you, I mean how could I not be?” He said and you blushed under his intense gaze and his beautiful words, “You’re absolute perfection. You know that? You look after me, you support me, you love me. You’ve made my dream life a reality. You gave me the two most beautiful babies planet earth has ever seen. You mean everything to me and I don’t want to make elaborate schemes like this just to show you that. I'm going to make an effort to show you every day,” He said and you cupped his face in your hands and kissed his lips.

“I don’t doubt you. Ever, H. I said yes to you. To us. To everything we could grow to be. I knew things would change and boy, have they changed.” You chuckled and he smiled and nodded, “Granted, we could both do a bit more to show each other our appreciation. But I just want you to know that I am still happy.” You assured him and he smiled, “I love you.”

“I love you.” He hummed happily, “Now, are you up for some sex?” He grinned.

“I never thought you'd ask!” you exclaimed and he chuckled. 

Everything was sweet and giggly, much like it had been before. Your intimacy was so special and as out of touch as you may have felt with each other, seconds before he slipped inside of you, your eyes met and an unspoken message was shared between them. It suddenly felt like no time had passed between you two at all, there wasn’t any time lost. There were no missed opportunities. You just led a different life now, but the overpowering love you had for each other still simmered beneath the surface of everything. Maybe it wasn’t expressed like this as often as it used to be, but it was certainly what fueled the fire of your marriage. It’s what kept you going and trying. It was the hearth of your relationship as soulmates. You smiled and nodded and he surged his hips forward and sunk inside of you.

“Oh fuuuck.” Harry moaned lowly and you just whimpered as he sank in as deep as he could go. It had been too fucking long, Harry was hoping he could last at least last 10 minutes and that was proving difficult as your walls adjusted to his intrusion. So soft and warm and snug around him. He exhaled sharply through his nose as his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. He knew what he needed to do to last a bit longer. He reached to the side of your head and dragged a pillow down. Without drawing out of you, he managed to raise your hips a bit as he knelt up and slid the pillow under. Your heart started pounding in nerves and excitement as he brought his body over yours again and kissed you.

“Baby, what you’re doing is dangerous.” You warned with a nervous chuckle and he shrugged.

“So?” He smirked.

“Baby, we said two. Only two.”

“I know.” He assured as he ground his hips into yours and your body tensed and his smirk only intensified as he watched the effect his body had on yours.

There was nothing wrong with this sex position - the coital alignment. In fact, it was perfect. Imagine getting stimulated in the deepest most delicious part of you all while your clit is being rubbed in perfect time to the internal movements. It was perfection, it was bliss, heaven on earth. But every time you’d had sex like this you’d ended up pregnant and when Harry even thought about trying for a baby it unleashed a part of him that made you desperate for him. For more of him, those times were so good that you were begging him to get you pregnant and well…wish came true. Both times. So yes, you were a bit wary of this position and what it could mean for you. As much as you loved your little girls, pregnancy was more lows than highs for you. So after your second little girl came you had both agreed that two was it. Harry was supposed to have a vasectomy, but he went back to work early and just continued to put it off, which didn’t matter before, seeing as you weren’t having sex, but now you were having sex and he was Fertile. With a capital F because each time he had successfully gotten you pregnant during your first attempts and that was scary.

“My period ended last week. If I get pregnant from this I’m gonna-”

“I’ll run out and get you a plan B later.” He assured and you let your head fall back onto your pillow as you laughed, “I promise, baby.” He assured and you sighed.

“OK.” You agreed and he grinned as he started to grind his hips into yours again. Your clit had already been sensitive from him going down on you so this stimulation had your stomach tightening up and your breath hitching in absolutely no time. His cock was rubbing and gently prodding at that spot that was making your vision blur with tears of pleasure. Suddenly you gasped as you felt your right boob start to ache. Fucking shit, it was past feeding time you thought to yourself. Harry was quick to notice the change of expression on your face.

“Am I hurting you?” He asked as he slowed down and you shook your head.

“No, baby. It’s just I’ve usually fed Daisy by now so I’m sore.” You explained and he nodded in understanding. He looked down at your breasts and saw that the right one was looking more firm and swollen than the other. The skin was quite taut as he could slightly see your veins under your skin, “I just need to pump for a bit and then we can keep-what’re you doing?!” You asked in shock as he leaned down to your breast.

“Helping.” He said simply as he very gently licked over your nipple and you whimpered pathetically at the feeling of having it touched erotically for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. He then started to speed up the movement of his hips, rocking deep into you and you moaned loudly. When you felt the first suck of him against your nipple your nearly orgasmed, it pushed you so fucking close. Harry could feel your walls suffocating his cock and maybe he wasn’t going to last as long as he was hoping. He was grinding his cock into you, pubic bone rubbing your clit over and over, while his mouth was latched around your areola as he sucked the milk out of your completely swollen breast and it was driving him insane. You too apparently and he loved that. He swallowed down what was in his mouth before he kissed you hard, “Better?” He asked and you nodded, “Do you want me to do it again?” He asked through his bated breathing, “S’it gonna make my girl come?” He asked.

“Yes, fuck! Pleasepleaseplease!” You whined out and he groaned as he sucked your nipple into his mouth again while your fingers pulled hard at his hair. His balls were so full and achey, much like your breasts, and he had so much of his own creamy load of sperm to give you. Your skin was covered in goosebumps as your legs trembled around his narrow hips and your toes curled as your orgasm started to come over you. “Fuck Harry, don’t stop! I’m gonna come!” You cried out loudly and he pulled off of your boob and hovered his face over yours, his eyes were dark and your breast milk was dripping from the corner of his mouth and he had never looked hotter than he did at this moment.

“Just give me a second.” He said and you whined and closed your eyes, “Nu-uh, look at me, baby. Look at me while I make you cum.” He grunted his demand. The depth of his voice felt like it rumble through your body and you swore your eyes crossed as your orgasm just exploded through your body. You gasped and wailed, you were squirting again and a tidal wave of tingles and warmth washed through your entire body. Your ears were ringing and your blurry eyes focused on Harry’s eyes. His eye brows were creased low and he was grunting, you could barely hear it over the ringing of your ears, but soon he was lowering his face to yours and you just hugged him tight to your body as he started to shoot his load deep inside of you with long drawn out moans of satisfaction. He slowly rode you both through the full experience, making sure that he milked every ounce of pleasure out of the experience for you both.

Several minutes passed without you moving from the position you were in. Your bodies were hot and sticky. Plus yours was sore, you hadn’t done this much cardio or physical activity in a while. Your fingers gently scratched along Harry’s head as you relished in the silence and comfort of being alone with each other. You were tingling all over and riding such a high that you had even forgotten about your tender breast until some of it started to trickle out and Harry raised his head from your chest to see you literally leaking out in little streaks and he started to laugh.

“What?” You asked and then saw the little stream coming out of your breast and you groaned, “So embarrassing.”

“Your body is amazing. The fact you can even do that is incredible…Anyway, I’ll get the pump.” He said and pulled out of you far sooner than either of you wanted and headed around to your bedside table and handed you the pumps from the drawer. You set them up and just rested against the headboard with a tired sigh as your eyes fluttered closed as you let the machines do their thing. Then you felt the warmth of Harry nearby and he kissed you on the forehead, the tip of the nose, and then the lips, you were already smiling by then and so was he. “Thank you, baby.” he whispered against your mouth.

“For what?” You asked as you blinked your eyes open and Harry smiled at you.

“For choosing me to have all of this with.” He said and you sighed as your eyes welled up with tears and he cooed a gentle “don’t cry, baby” to you as he wiped the tears away from under your eyes.

“They're tears of joy. I promise.” You swallowed thickly and he smiled and leaned in to kiss you again, “I wouldn’t want this with anyone else. I love you.” You whispered in between kisses.

“I love you most.” Harry hummed.

----Tag List ----

@justlemmeadoreyou @daphnesutton @angelbabyyy99 @reveriehs @cherrysulewski @jessitpwk @gurugirl @sunflovverharry @sunshinemoonsposts @ottawaoutlander @permanentllyharry @here4thefanfics

[nicsnort]

Gravita Anima (part 58)

Nightcrawler/Fem!OC/Quicksilver Long-form romance and drama fic. All chapters have been posted on Ao3.

Intro (with link to Ao3 story) First Previous

The past few days Elle forced herself to not think about Quicksilver or the Brotherhood. It was hard, however, given that some people started recognizing her from the news. Her boss had called her into the office to talk about this newly discovered status as a mutant. Elle thought she was about to be fired but luckily the man had just wanted to make sure that she wouldn’t be disappearing from work superheroing.

However, as the weekend and the Senate vote approached Elle did have Friday off. She called her mom, something she hadn’t been able to do in a little over two months. Her mom had been less than pleased at the long drought of contact, especially since she had seen the news. Luckily after some explaining that the fighting was a one-time thing, telling her that she and a friend were coming for a visit, and the promise of more explanations Elle was able to calm her down.

Elle wanted to spend all day outside the capitol protesting the bill so Thursday night was perfect for a nice visit to her mother. She and Kurt used the rail system to travel from DC to Bethesda. It was not a long trip, only half an hour, but she could feel Kurt’s nervousness the whole trip. “It will be fine,” she told him, leaning against his shoulder as they rode the bus towards the restaurant they were meeting at. “You look very handsome in that suit by the way.”

She had told him to dress nicely for the dinner since mom was taking them out. Elle was wearing a nice goldenrod-colored blouse and dark blue slacks. They matched well this evening.

The trip had been something that excited and made Kurt nervous. He felt it a rather big step to meet Elle’s mother so soon -- but was it really ‘soon’? They had known each other in one way or another for months now. Given the intensity of her mission and his part in it, he thought that equaled longer than what it was. But it still made him wonder and worry if her mother might think it too quickly. Surely Elle hadn’t told her the entire truth and Kurt couldn’t blame her.

He had debated long and hard about wearing his inducer but decided against it at the last second. He wore a nice suit and had to resist the urge to pick at bits and pieces. The travel was steady enough. At her words, his attention shifted and he gave a relieved, shy smile. “Thank you...you look gorgeous. But you always do, mein Herz.” He reached over and touched her hand, squeezing it gently. 

“Do you think she will like me?” He asked after a moment, his insecurity slipping momentarily. 

“My hero,” Elle said, kissing his cheek briefly. “She is going to love you. Trust me.”

The bus came to a stop and they departed. It was a couple of minutes walk to the restaurant. Up ahead Elle saw a woman with similar thick brown hair to her own that was piled up in a messy bun.

“Mom,” she exclaimed, running forward.

“Elle, sweetheart,” the woman ran towards her as well and they embraced each other tightly. Next to each other apart from the hair, the two did not look alike. Whoever Elle’s father was, he had given her his appearance.

The two parted, large smiles on both their faces. The older woman’s eyes then moved past Elle to Kurt standing behind her. Her brow furrowed just a bit as she comprehended his appearance and tried to remember where she had seen him. “Who is this?”

Elle stepped back and slipped her arm around Kurt’s. “Mom, this is Kurt Wagner, my boyfriend. Kurt, this is my mom, Dr. Julia Hughes.”

For a moment, Kurt was glad to be in the background as he watched Elle and this woman hug. They looked nothing alike, but for the hair. He smiled, pleased to see how happy they both were. He wondered only briefly why it had been so long since they interacted, but that thought went away as soon as the woman’s gaze landed on him. Kurt’s tail straightened and he stood up taller, clearing his throat of his nerves.

The feel of Elle’s arm around his calmed him just so. It was reassuring. It helped, of course, that the woman sounded curious, not disgusted. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Hughes.” He took a step forward just so and held his hand out, trying his best not to worry about his fingers or his fur. “It is an honor to meet Elle’s mother.” His accent rang out sharp.

Dr. Hughes raised an eyebrow at the man in front of her. Her daughter, while ever the activist, had always kept quiet about her own mutant status. Now she recognized him. He was an X-man, Nightcrawler. Was this the boy who got her daughter caught up in that nasty business with those giant robots?

She looked between the two. Julia trusted her daughter and she knew that any man would have a hard time hiding his intentions from her. There was a sparkle in Elle’s eyes that had not been there for years. The girl was in the blooming stages of love.

Elle’s mother’s eyes softened and a smile came to her face. Reaching out she took the boy’s hand and shook it once, professionally. “When you said friend, I did not expect a boyfriend, Eleanor. Especially one so...unique. You are Nightcrawler, correct? Was it your fault that my daughter got dressed up in that ridiculous costume and fought giant robots?”

“Mom!” Elle’s tone was reprimanding. “I told you that was my own decision.”

“Yes, but I didn’t expect you to be dating a vigilante. You have a big heart Elle, you always want to help. I just want to make sure that you aren’t getting in over your head.”

Well, Kurt thought, that answered that question. She had no idea about the Brotherhood. Good, it was better to keep that secret then. He let his hand fall back to his side after the handshake, taking it as a triumph. “I can assure you, Dr. Hughes,” Kurt added lightly, “there is more to our relationship than...vigilante business.” Like movies. Training, fighting, and movies. It was the life of an X-man.

Elle groaned just a bit but it was obvious that she wasn’t angry. The concern that her mother felt for her was real and she understood it. “Don’t worry, Mom, it was a one-time thing. Now can we go in and eat? You know how hungry I am after work.”

Her mother frowned just a bit. “Very well, but this isn’t over with little missy.”

When her mother turned her back Elle visibly rolled her eyes. Still, she squeezed Kurt’s arm and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re doing great, don’t worry,” she told him quietly.

When they walked into the restaurant, he glowed at Elle’s kiss. He nodded, taking her word for it. She knew her mother, after all. When they were seated, he looked over the menu and spotted something that looked safe. He hadn’t really thought to focus and read because he was more attentive to the two women at the table. He’d just have to point at the menu and hope he got a good item.

He did, however, ask for a glass of water when the waitress came by. “So, Dr. Hughes...how long have you been practicing?” Kurt inquired, hoping he was doing this right.

Elle made sure to keep touching Kurt reassuringly as he sat next to her at the table. They were silent as they ordered their food but once the menus were gone Elle could see her mother’s sharp calculating gaze on Kurt. At his question, she did give a small smile though.

“About 20 years now,” she told him. “I became pregnant with Eleanor during my graduate program so I had to take a few years off to care for her or else it would be closer to 25...and do you do anything or are you just an “X-man”? Does that even bring in any income?”

It felt strange to have a sort of negative remark -- attack? -- on Kurt that wasn’t about his appearance. So strange, in fact, that he hardly batted an eyelash. “Twenty years -- that is still an accomplishment to boast about. I should hope to be doing good in the world twenty years from now.” 

He sat back, grateful for the touch Elle provided and smiled. “I assist around the school with the students’ -- practice, lessons, repairs, that sort.” Missions, spying, so forth. “The Professor provides the necessities in life. Rent, food, and so on in exchange for assisting around the school. I do not ask for much, as I am satisfied with simplicity. Having grown up without a literal roof over my head, but a tent more often, I have become grateful for these things.”

Dr. Hughes’ eyes softened at the mention of growing up in a tent. Elle could feel the sympathy and instantly knew her mom had the wrong idea. “Kurt grew up in a circus,” she explained, “the Incredible Nightcrawler. He is quite the talented acrobat.”

Her mother’s face very clearly showed her surprise that he did not grow up homeless - at least in the sense, she was thinking. “Oh I see...and so this school is where you live?”

Elle jumped in again. “Kurt has an apartment in DC not too far from mine. Though I think I might move when my lease is up. It is time for a change.”

It would be nice to live somewhere that the Brotherhood didn’t know about and that didn’t have the negative memories associated with the space. Not that she was going to tell her mother anything about the Brotherhood or Michael’s return.

“I told you to move out of there ages ago, that place is too expensive for the number of problems it has.” Julia looked at Kurt. “If you haven’t found out already this girl is very stubborn.”

It became readily apparent that Elle’s mother had a picture set for her. Kurt nodded, taking a drink of water. “She is very determined.” He agreed, thinking of the Brotherhood mission. “But she seems to know what she’s doing...most of the time.” He teased. “I have seen Elle giving tours many times, and she has an immense amount of knowledge about what she’s talking about. It is impressive how the crowd hangs on her every word -- for I thought that was just me.” 

Julia’s lips twitched just a bit with a smile. This boy was good. Standing up for and complimenting her daughter while not denying her daughter’s personality. “Yes, and how are those tours going dear?”

Elle gladly took her mother’s attention off Kurt for a moment and began talking about how the tours were going. Her mother listened but as Elle expected the woman still sighed afterward. “I am glad it is going well now but you know you need to get a real job at some point. You have your degree, use it.”

“Mom, this is a real job and I am happy doing it. I don’t--” Elle cut herself off. “We’ve had this conversation before. Could we just not, right now? How have you been, Mom?”

Her mother’s face softened. “Of course, sorry.” She went on to talk about how her private practice was going and then moved on to talking about a few TV shows she had been watching recently.

Kurt was glad to see the break of what would have been a tired, repeated conversation. He knew from the brief time he had spent with the doctor so far that she did care for Elle, as a mother did...was supposed to. She wanted what was best for her. He was glad to see that Elle had that.

During the conversation, their food arrived. Kurt was surprised that he had ordered a sandwich, but it looked and smelt delicious. He was more focused on the company anyway. “I must admit, we are behind in TV show watching,” mostly due to the stressful few weeks, “but we have had a chance in watching a few Errol Flynn movies.”

“Oh, did Elle drag you into watching those films,” Dr. Hughes asked with a laugh. “She used to do that with her college friends all the time.”

“No,” Elle proclaimed, “Kurt already loved Errol Flynn. He could even recite the lines with me.”

She pressed a kiss to Kurt’s cheek remembering the time they watched Captain Blood together. Maybe they should rewatch it and fully act out the final scene. Elle glanced over at her mother and saw an approving look in her eye.

“I’ll be right back,” Elle announced, “bathroom.” With that, she slid out of her chair and headed off, leaving Kurt alone with her mother.

______

Next

Fanfic Masterlist

[dameronology]

can i request from your agnst song lyrics list 1) "i had all of you, most of you, some and now none of you" - the night we met, lord huron? maybe from nat’s perspective bc she lost reader please? 🥺

of course!! i hope u enjoy <3 this came out in a weird format but ?? we move

natasha romanoff + ""i had all of you, most of you, some and now none of you"

Natasha could count the five occasions on her right hand during which she knew she was going to lose you. As each one passed, she could tell that you were slipping away bit by bit; at first, it was just a little. A tiny bit of distance, but something you could bounce back from. Then it became a deeper and deeper divide, until she'd passed the point of no return and lost you completely. The worst part was that she knew it was happening. She was fully aware that you were slipping through her fingers and she had done nothing to stop. There was only one person to blame, and Nat knew who it was.

The first time she knew was when she'd missed an important dinner date - a cliche, really. It had happened to everyone at some point or another but this one? It had been a particularly important one. A big PR night for the Avengers, where she'd promised to be by your side and help put on a united front. You'd set a reminder on her phone, written it on the calendar in her office, and even sent her a final text on the big day. Then her meeting had overran, and she had a conference call, and four hours later, the realisation hit her like a truck. She'd forgotten. She'd taken on too much work and let you down.

"I am so sorry!" Nat burst in the room, fiery hair all over the place. She had quickly come in a rush, and her less than subtle entrance only brought more embarrassment to the warmth on your cheeks. "I was working, and I lost track of time-"

"- you had one job, Natasha," you hissed. Standing up from the dinner table, you awkwardly moved over to her and shoved a glass of champagne in her hands. "You said you had booked the day off weeks ago."

"There isn't a day off when you're an Avenger," she softly reminded you. But, the presence of Bucky, Steve, Tony, Peter and literally every other fucking super-hero in New York told you other-wise.

"Yeah, I know," you murmured. "C'mon, let's just sit down."

"I really am sorry, honey," Nat pushed.

"I know," you repeated. "Just...be on your best behaviour for the rest of the evening."

You'd written it off as a blip; so what if Natasha had made a mistake? Despite all her prior accomplishments, she was a human being. Work was important to her and you totally got that. It was important to you as well, and you had always supported each other.

More than anything, you were just grateful it had been a work related incident than anything. The first few months of your relationship had been plagued with Nat pushing you away and consistently shutting you out - it had taken a long time for her to open up to you, and even longer for her to trust you. You were glad whatever argument had come her mess-up hadn't been her doing the same all over again.

Or so you'd hoped - because the second time she felt you slipping away? It was a little more serious.

"Natasha," you sighed, "you need to tell me these things."

"It's nothing, I promise," she murmured.

"A gunshot wound isn't nothing!" you countered. "The worst part is that I found out about it from Bucky's Snapchat story."

She frowned. "Bucky has Snapchat?"

"Yeah, he meant to to send it to Steve, but accidentally posted it publicly instead," you gave a derivative snort. "But that aside, you can't keep things like that from me. I thought we didn't have secrets. Nat."

"We don't, sweetheart," Nat replied. "I just didn't want to scare you."

"You scared me more by not telling me," you shot back. "Just...please tell me next time? Don't keep me out the loop."

She forced a smile. "I won't."

But she did.

So much so, in fact, that you found yourself almost losing Natasha completely. She would no longer tell you about where she was going on missions, or when she would be back - it was all just a giant question mark. And not that dissimilar from how it had been at the beginning of your relationship. She'd been secretive, then; keeping you out the loop and not opening up when she clearly experienced something traumatic.

You'd always been there for her, but you didn't want to force it either. You were just hyperaware that you were the only person you spoke too, and if she stopped talking to you? That meant she was bottling it all up. That was never healthy.

"Steve said there were deaths," you called after Natasha, helplessly following her through your shared apartment. "Five men down, Nat, and you don't even want to talk about it a little?"

"I'm not good at talking," Nat muttered. She stalked through to the bedroom, throwing her go-bag into the back of the wardrobe. "Don't force me."

You stopped in your tracks. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just...I don't want you to bottle it up, y'know? That's not good for you. I guess I'm just letting you know that the offer is there."

"Thank you," Nat forced a smile. Again. "I appreciate it."

"I also don't want you to shut me out," you continued. "I've been through that with you before and I don't want to do it again. It almost killed both of us."

"Hey, I'm sorry," her face fell, and she softly reached out, pulling you into a hug. "I won't shut you out. I promise."

Natasha managed to break both of her promises; the one about keeping you in the loop, the one about not shutting you out.

It came naturally to her, you see. She was a solitary person; raised by design to be self-sufficient and to not let anyone in. At the Red Room, finding support in others had been a sign of weakness and try as she might, Natasha couldn't shake the habits that were engrained into her brain. She wanted to - for you, she really did - but it was hard.

It didn't take long for things to come to a head. You weren't an idiot; you knew when Natasha was icing you out. It had hurt too much the first time round and there was no guarantee that you'd have it in you to see it through a second time. You figured that space might be good - not a break up, but just some time apart.

"Natasha, we need to talk."

She hated the words as soon as they left your mouth - so did you. There was never a good conversation that started with we need to talk. It was always either a separation or an ultimatum, and you were too tired for the latter. Proposing a break seemed like the best thing for you both.

Nat frowned. "What's up?"

"I won't beat around the bush," you began. "I think we should take some time apart."

You could see Natasha's face fall instantly, but she couldn't deny it that it hadn't come as a shock. Something - a trial separation, a break-up, an argument - had been brewing for a while. She was just good at dancing around it.

"Really?"

"Yeah," you admitted. "We're both tired and it feels like we're slipping back towards how things used to be."

"You're right," she agreed. "I'm sorry. You know I love you, right?"

You smiled. "I know - I figured you could use the time to work out what you want. See if you wanna talk to someone professionally, or if you just want to...y'know."

"Know what?"

"If you want to break-up permanently," you finished the sentence with a wobble in your voice. "Ball's in your court, Nat."

The ball was in her court - and she basically let it deflate.

Because for Natasha, emotions were scary. You'd left the apartment with a promise between you that she would be the one to make the final call.

A month and I'll call you, is she what she had said.

A month and I'll call you, is she what she had promised.

It was a slow month. You didn't hear from Natasha at all; when you went to collect your mail from the apartment, she was out. She barely showed her face at the office these days and her presence on social media was gone. Her name no longer popped up on the viewers list for your Instagram or Snapchat story. There were no more good morning texts.

Then that slow month turned in a slow five weeks. Then six. Then seven. Then two months had passed, and you hadn't heard a single thing.

Not until a cold Monday evening, when you were holed up in your new apartment watching an old episode of Seinfeld. The presence of your friends, paired with old sitcoms, was the only thing getting you through the Natasha-induced drought. A knock on the door only made it worst.

"One second!" you called.

Throwing your blanket aside, you put down your soup and shuffled over to the front door. Out of habit (one that Nat had taught you), you peered through the peephole - your heart practically stopped when you saw a head of red hair and green eyes. It was unmistakably your Natasha.

"Nat," you greeted her with a cold tone as you opened the door. "Fancy you making an appearance."

"I am so sorry," she began. "I just needed time. I needed time to think-"

"- I gave you a month!" you cut her off. "And I would have given you more if...if you had just asked. If you had just spoken to me, or communicated with me."

"I know," she murmured.

"No, Nat," you firmly said. "I don't think you do. I don't think you know at all - about what you're doing or how you're making me feel."

"I..." she trailed off. "I love you."

"You don't fucking act like it," you snorted. "I could deal with at first - all the miscommunications and random disappearances, but I'm done now."

"I just want one more chance - please?"

"No," you snapped. "You've made your bed. Now lie in it."

And she would; she would lie in it alone.

[solarwonux]

Lucky || Joshua

Dad!Joshua x f!reader

w.c: 3.0k

warnings: mentions of suggestive themes, mentions of pregnancy

note: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays today on this fine night I bring you Joshua Hong as a father let’s all cry together thank you very much. I hope you like it let me know your thoughts <3

pspspspsp: @sunlightwoo it’s back hehe

masterlist

“Are you and momma still friends?” Joshua’s daughter questioned tilting her head to the side, clinging on to his neck as the waves crashed around them. Joshua grinned and pushed back her beach hair. “Of course sweetheart why are you asking?” He wiped her running nose with the back of his hand before splashing a small amount of water in her direction. An annoyed expression forming on her face reminding him of the similar scold you had given him hours ago.

“She put you in time out.” She shrugged and reached to the side of Joshua’s body. Cupping her hands underneath the clear blue water before throwing it in his direction missing his face completely. “That wasn’t very nice sweetheart.” He chuckled. A wave crashed pushing them back slightly causing his hold on her to get tighter.

She pouted and pushed his face away, turning her attention to where you and his mother were sunbathing. “You made momma mad, that wasn’t very nice either.” She argued and pinched his arm, a mannerism she had inherited from you and the only thing that you did that he hated. But no matter how much your pinches hurt, because they did. He couldn’t imagine living his life without your stupid quirk.

“Momma’s not mad anymore though.” Joshua smirked and attacked her cheek with kisses, whines fell out of her mouth. Eyes burned holes in the side of his and he knew you were sending him your infamous glares. The ones that could send him six feet underground, that is if looks could kill and being married to you would’ve sent him underground years ago. He was thankful they couldn’t.

“She said you were in time out for three days.” She held up her hand signaling four with her fingers. Numbers weren’t her forte. You and Joshua had tried everything to get her to understand that three and four were two completely different numbers but she was at an age where listening wasn’t something she liked to do. The two of you figured she’d eventually figure it on her own, though sometimes Joshua suspected she was doing it on purpose. Her teasing attitude was another thing she had inherited from you making Joshua’s list longer by the second. “One less finger bubs.” He brought his hand out and pushed down her pinky to form three with her small fingers. A smirk appeared on her face as she raised it again only proving Joshua’s suspicions.

“Okay love, but momma isn’t mad at me anymore.” He stated confidently meeting your eyes only to have you send him the middle finger making his mother laugh beside you. He silently cursed but thanked god that your daughter wasn’t looking because the questions would’ve been endless. And he had barely survived the where do babies come from interrogation last week.

He knew you were still mad at him. You were fuming to the point that you were giving the summer sun a run for its money. But he had a plan, one he was sure would have you forgiving him in seconds. Only problem was the little demon in his arms innocently playing with the water surrounding the two of them--hated sleeping in her own bed. And he couldn’t ask his mother to look after her tonight because she had taken your side in the stupid fight.

In conclusion he was in a bit of a pickle.

Half an hour, that’s how long it took him to put his daughter to bed. She had requested a bedtime story, Joshua over the moon had no problem in reading one to her. But then when he was done she had requested another one and this time he had to act out every single character while she judged his performance. This had gone on for half an hour until finally her breathing got steady and she was fast asleep. How the beach hadn’t tired her out was a mystery he would eventually solve one day.

Joshua carefully turned off the lights and placed her favorite stuffed animals around her, so that when she woke up she would be met with a familiar set of faces. He tiptoed out of the room and turned off the lights. Taking a quick glance around the room, making sure nothing was out of place and that her night lights were on before carefully closing the door. His body cringed at the sound of squeaking hinges and he swore he had stopped breathing while he stood there in the dark hallway, motionless. His ears perked up to see if he could hear any sound of movement from the other side of the door and once he was sure his daughter was still fast asleep he quietly made his way to your shared bedroom.

“She’s asleep, let’s hope she doesn’t end up in our bed tonight.” Joshua walked over to where you were standing in front of your small vanity that also doubled up as a dresser. “We wouldn’t be trying to break this habit if you hadn’t insisted on her sleeping with us for the last few months.” Joshua let out an inaudible groan knowing very well he was the one at fault. “How am I supposed to say no when she asks with that sweet innocent voice and then gives me the look?” He eyed you through the mirror before wrapping his arms around your waist. His chin resting against your shoulder while you applied your eye cream gently. “It’s like she knows my weaknesses and then uses it against me.”

“It’s not that hard to break you Joshua.” You met his stare through the mirror, a knowing smirk forming against your lips. You sent him a wink before grabbing your cherry flavored chapstick and slowly applied it on your lips. The action sending shivers up his spine, his mind racing as he imagined your lips on his. The thought of the bitter sweetness of the cherry flavor hitting his taste buds made his mouth water. But alas you were still mad at him and his plan hadn’t gone in full effect yet. Patience is what he needed.

“Are you still mad at me?” He pouted slightly making you shake your head in annoyance. You huffed at his obvious question and removed his arms from your waist, pushing him away gently before making your way to your side of the bed. “I already apologized, what more do you want me to do?” He threw his hands in the air before letting them fall to his sides in defeat.

“You lost my necklace the one you gave me when our daughter was born, sorry’s not gonna bring it back.” You took off the many throw pillows that decorated the bed and threw them on the floor. Usually you would put them on the lounge chair by the window but tonight you couldn’t be bothered.

“I already told you I’d buy you a new one.” He groaned and walked over to his side of the bed peeling back the covers, stopping when he saw the tears start to roll down your face, his plan long forgotten.

Lately your mood swings were giving him a hard time and although he suspected why, he wasn’t sure if he should bring it up when the thought hadn’t even crossed your own mind. At least that’s what he concluded when you hadn’t brought it up. “It’s not the same Joshua, I know it’s stupid to hold such sentimental value over something so miniscule but it meant a lot to me and you lost it.” Joshua sighed letting the sheets go and crawled on top of the bed, kneeling in front of you and bringing his hands up to your face.

“Baby I swear I thought I had put it in the pocket of my coat when you gave it to me.” He wiped away your tears gently and placed a kiss on your forehead. “It was there when we left the reception. I even called Minghao to see if the venue had contacted him but he didn’t pick up.”

“Of course he’s not going to pick up, he's on his honeymoon, Joshua.” You sniffed and blinked rapidly trying to keep the tears at bay. “My point still stands, I’ve looked everywhere for it.” He sighed and wrapped an arm around your waist as he brought you close. Your knees hit the edge of the bed making them buckle, your body landing on top of Joshua’s as he laid the two of you down gently.

“Did you check your car?” You raised an eyebrow locking your eyes with his tender ones. His eyes grew wide and faint blush creeped on his cheeks as he recalled the very inappropriate events that went down in the passenger seat on your way home from the reception. “N-No the thought didn’t even cross my mind.” He cleared his throat, your face breaking into a smile as you removed yourself from his embrace and laid back, letting your body sink into the softness of your bed.

“I knew you hadn’t checked everywhere.” You placed your arms underneath your head watching the ceiling fan. He was chewing the bottom lip as the realization finally washed over him a very annoyed groan fell out of his lips as he dropped his head. “When did you find it?”

You laughed and moved so your body was now facing his defeated one. “Right after we dropped off your mother at her house. It was peeking out from underneath the back seat as I was putting bubs in her car seat.” You placed a hand underneath his chin and raised it. “This a new form of torture. I’ve been suffering all day today.” Joshua whined snaking his arm around your waist and pulled himself up so his chest was against yours. “I deserve an apology?” He pouted before pecking your lips.

“I’ll think about it, right now I’m exhausted.” You grinned and pushed your hand through his dark locks leaning up and kissing his nose. “I want to keep talking to you. You barely said a word to me all day and watched me suffer. I’m in a drought come and save me.” He finished and cuddled himself further into your body, his head on your chest. You giggled scratching his scalp, small satisfied sighs escaping his lips.

When you and Joshua first met on a disastrous blind date set up by your mutual friends where he accidentally spilled wine all over your new white dress, marriage was definitely not in the cards. But nothing is ever set in stone and you should’ve known his charm would win you over when he walked you home that night. Silence raining over the two of you except for the sweet apologies he would spew out every few minutes, thus beginning your loving journey together.

“What are you thinking about?” Joshua whispered drumming his fingers down the side of your body before resting them on top of your stomach. “How dramatic you are.” You joked wrapping your arms around his neck. He hummed and cuddled himself further into your body placing a gentle peck against the skin of your collarbone. “I think you might’ve rubbed off on me then.”

You giggled feeling his hand rub soothing circles against your stomach. A smile played against his lips and you wondered if he knew the secret you had been carrying for the past two weeks. It had started out as a suspicion when the food at Minghao’s wedding had made you sick. Then your emotions started getting the best of you, snapping and crying over everything and anything. When his mother came over to visit and noticed your weird cravings she had made you take a test while Joshua ran to the grocery for some parsley his mother had asked for. He didn’t question it. He had no reason to since his mother had insisted on cooking dinner for the four of you that night. But when he noticed the parsley had been left untouched in the fridge his suspicions started to grow.

He had been oddly observant lately, doing everything with caution, putting your daughter to bed every night a task you usually did and no problem in doing. Acting out all the characters in the story for your daughter was one of your favorite past times. He had insisted that you needed to rest, claiming he didn’t want you to stress out too much and just relax. So you expected he knew and was just waiting for you to tell him so he could finally celebrate. You had to admit it was fun seeing Joshua walk around as if he were avoiding the cracks on the sidewalk and the unsolicited back massages were to die for but you couldn’t keep living like you didn’t know he already knew. As clueless as he had acted, he hadn’t done a very good job at it. And After your secret doctor’s visit yesterday confirming what you had already known, you had been dying to tell him.

“Cut the shit Joshua, when did you find out?” You looked down at him as he smiled widely causing you to roll your eyes. His insides bubbling up with joy as he laid back facing the popcorn ceiling. “You aren’t very good at hiding things. I found the test a week ago when I opened your bathroom drawer looking for the tiny rubber bands to finish our bub’s hair.” He turned his face sending you a playful wink. You groaned running a hand through your face, finally realizing that your plan of total secrecy was a total bust.

“And our daughter can’t keep secrets no matter how many green gummy bears you give her before dinner.”

“I knew it was a little weird when she asked for just green gummy bears. She’s never liked them.” You nodded and grabbed Joshua’s hand. You brought it up to your lips and kissed each of his knuckles gently before resting on the side of your neck, scooting yourself closer to his warm body. “But I do, really honey you should’ve known better.” He smiled and pinched your cheek gently before leaning down and capturing your lips with his. He kissed you slowly at first, the kiss getting deeper by the second as he rolled you onto your back and carefully straddled your hips.

Joshua smirked the taste of your cherry chapstick hitting his tongue making his mind run wild. Slowly he pulled away and kissed down your neck, making his way down your clothed body not caring that small pieces of lint were getting stuck on his plump lips. He rolled your shirt up and sent you a wink before peppering kissing over your soon to be growing belly. Excitement was an understatement and he couldn’t wait to show you how much he truly loved you making a mental note to shower you with more love than usual. His plan finally going into action as he heard your soft sighs escape your lungs.

“Mommy is daddy out of time out?” The two of you panicked and you pushed Joshua off your body making him fall off the bed landing on the hardwood floor with a painful groan. Your daughter laughed hard at her father’s pain while she climbed up on the bed before sitting down next to you. “He’s on probation, baby.” You stuck out your tongue at Joshua who was looking at you rubbing his lower back. “And when were you going to tell me he knew about baby bean?” You raised an eyebrow at her. Her eyes grew wide with realization and launched herself at you hugging you tightly.. “I’m sorry momma, daddy said he’d take me to see uncle Hannie if I didn’t say anything.” She sent her father an evil look and he knew he had lost this argument just like all the other ones.

“It’s okay baby.” You kissed her temple and pulled away taking her pouting face in your hands making your heart clench. “I can’t believe you Joshua bribing our daughter into secrecy.” You scoffed. Joshua looked at the ceiling wondering what decision in life he had made that lead him up to this moment where his favorite girls were ganging up on him again.

“That’s not fair you did the same thing?” He stood up and sent you an accusatory finger making you gasp out in shock. Your daughter copying your mannerisms. “I did no such thing right baby?” You looked down at your daughter who had taken it upon herself to get under the sheets and cuddle up to your side. “That’s right momma’s innocent.”

“I should’ve known the odds were forever going to be against me when I met you.”

“It’s what you signed up for.”

“Yeah and I wouldn’t change it for the world no matter how many times the two of you gang up on me.” He smiled and stood up before quickly jogging over to his side of the bed and laying down. He wrapped an around you and your daughter bringing the two of you close humming happily. Your daughter squirming as she tried her best to let herself lose which only made Joshua’s arm grow tighter.

“But make no mistake one day I will get my revenge.” He sent you a wink before reaching over and pecking your lips lightly and then your daughter’s forehead and laid back. “Baby bean is gonna be on my side and I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too confident, I don't want you to end up disappointed.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 VII

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, noncon, binding, nothing too extreme beyond my usual)

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You dread Loki’s return.

Note: Managed to get this out as I prepare for retail hell on Friday but y’all are wonderful! Thanks for reading and thanks for your patience.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The chamber was eerie and silent as you awaited the king’s return. You didn’t long for it, only knew it was inevitable. 

You regretted your venture outside; reproached yourself for your curiosity and your lapse into impulse. You’d been pent up for days, weeks, truly. Even the road to Thunder Lodge had allowed you little adventure. You were continuously crushed under the thumb of the willful king.

You recalled the night before, how quickly Loki had grown irritated and how he’d smothered you in his wrath. Your throat tightened at the memory. You couldn’t imagine he’d been any less agitated after that day. Why did his brother always have to goad him so?

You stared up at the portrait of Odin, the former king. Thor bore more of a resemblance to his father but even in oil, there was a darkness that hung around the predecessor. Loki had inherited it. It followed him around like a cloud. Perhaps it had been fostered in him through the blatant preference for the elder prince. For all the indifference and resent held over him. Loki had just as much to dole out in kind. His reign would be his ultimate vengeance.

Or perhaps, he was just a spoiled little boy who grew to be a selfish asshole. Both, even.

You were drawn from your reverie by the low hum of voices in the corridor and the metallic chink of armor. Magnus’ deep tones seeped through the stone walls and under the broad door. You took a breath and stopped as you turned to face the carved wood. 

The king entered, still in his armor, his dark hair curled from sweat and dust. His green eyes were sharp above his long nose as he carried his helm beneath his arm. You flinched as he slammed the metal onto the table and the door snapped shut behind him. He rested his gauntleted hand on the wood and tapped his fingers, his back to you as he huffed.

He pushed his head back and slipped his mailed gloves from his hands. He unclothed himself of his armor a piece at a time and laid them each atop the table. He didn’t look at you or acknowledge your hovering presence as you watched him. You knew he hadn’t forgot you though. He never did.

He stretched his arms and curled his fingers with an exaggerated sigh. His hands went to his hips as he turned slowly. His tunic hung open down his chest, loose as his belt coiled on the tablet with the heap. His eyes traced the mortar between the stones of the floor then crawled deliberately up your body. You were tempted to shield yourself behind the sofa.

His mouth curved at one corner and his eyes shone with malice. He sniffed and puffed his chest as he considered you.

“Did you think you were unseen?” He asked.

Your brow wrinkled as your lips parted slightly. You shook your head, speechless. You glanced at the door and he snapped his fingers.

“Do not fret about my guard. I will deal with his negligence in turn.” He snarled. “I saw you…and I know you saw me, mouse.” He came closer and you resisted the urge to cower, “So, if I did spot you from my deficit, how many others do you suppose spied you among the rows?”

“I don’t-- They--”

“I do not ask you to speak!” He raised his voice as his eyes gleamed dangerously. “Still that tongue before I should wish to strangle the breath from you entirely and never hear your lies again.”

You reeled as the fear pumped in your heart. Your skin tingled with adrenaline as you watched the king boil over. Like a snake, he readied for a final strike and you could not guess where it would land.

“Unclothe yourself. You show yourself ungrateful to all the privilege I’ve allowed you.” He hissed. “Do it or I shall tear it from your body myself.”

You blanched and your lips twitched. There was nothing you could say but he took it as resistance. He was on you in a moment. Around the sofa, both hands at your throat as he wrenched you nearly off your feet.

“Do not think I cannot find another. There are many whores prettier and more tolerable,” his longer fingers tightened on your neck. “I will not wait on your insolence.”

He released you so that you staggered. You caught yourself on the arm of the sofa and bent your arm back to tug at the laces of your gown. He reached over them and snapped them, jolting your body as he did. The fabric slackened and he paced impatiently across the room.

You shimmied free of the gown and bent to slip your feet from the silk slippers. He offered little more than a sheath and you stood naked and scared. He went to the door and opened it an inch. He whispered an order to his guard and was met with acquiescence. He pushed the door shut and turned on you again.

“Get on your knees and stay thus until I say,” he bid and continued his restless steps around the room. 

He stopped by the table and drew the dagger from his disposed belt. He turned the blade and admired it in the light. A tap came at the door and he called for the guard to enter. You lowered your head before Magnus saw you though you did not miss the length of rope in his hands.

“Bind her,” Loki rasped, “Neck to hands. Like the animal she is.”

You winced as the heavy boots approached you. Magnus was gruff as he pushed your head up and he smiled tauntingly at you as he wounded the thick rope around your neck, from chin to collarbone. Your head was held up by the tight rope and he moved around you to trail the rope along your back. He bent your arms behind you and secured them tightly and painfully behind you. 

You struggled to keep your balance as he stepped away. The king nodded. “Take her to the bed chamber,” Loki sneered, “On the bed.”

He did not move as Magnus lifted you to your feet. He turned you and marched you across the room and into the next. He shoved you meanly so that you hit the bed and landed on your front. He snickered and bent over you. “I did warn you.”

“Get the fuck away from me,” you retorted.

“With pleasure,” he stood and marched from the room.

You heard the doors again and you were left to lay helplessly on the mattress. You listened to the still air as you waited, for what, you were too afraid to ask. The king took his time; you heard the clink of glass and his suppressed anger in his sighs. His shadow loomed over you as he appeared in the doorway. He neared like a spectre as you strained to look at him without leaning too heavily on your arm. You were stuck on your stomach as you wriggled helplessly.

“Be still,” he pressed the metal tip of the dagger to your thigh and his other hand spread across your ass. 

“Your majesty, please--”

“Another word and I’ll cut your tongue out. I tire of it.” He pushed the blade flat and dragged it along the curve of your flesh. “You peasants, you have your wives’ tales but we have more. We have history written in ink. We have the truth.” He said evenly as he teased your skin with the silver, “I once read, that in the early years of our kingdom, when drought and famine was common, even among the rich, that the kings kept more than one woman.”

He poked you but did not break the skin. “He had his wife; a queen, to stand by him, but if she could not provide him and heir, he had his consorts. There was one king, my own father’s namesake, who had a dozen such women and twice as many children…

“More intriguing, it was said the king would mark his women so that other men would know not to touch. So that the women would know that blood should be drawn if they stray.” He turned you over suddenly and you rested agonizingly on your bent arms, your chest thrust up. He climbed between your legs and held up the knife. He placed it above your left breast. “Perhaps you need another lesson in blood.”

He pierced your skin and you muffled a yelp. You jerked and his other hand spread over the rope at your neck. He held you down and tutted.

“Do not move or I might mangle you,” he pressed more firmly as he began to carve your flesh. You bared your teeth and whined. Your entire body tense as he sliced. Tears pricked as the hot blood rose.

He drew away at last and smiled at his work. You could not see as your head was kept up by the layers of rope. He backed off the bed and set the dagger aside. He kept his back to you as he lifted his tunic over your head, you could only see the blur of his silhouette as you remained prone on the bed. The rustle of clothing filled your ears as your body thrummed.

You tried to roll over and he caught you. He pushed you onto your arms again and you squeaked. He lifted your hips as your arms were strained further and bent his legs around you as he pulled yours atop them. He propped up your pelvis as you were splayed against him and he roughly pushed his thumb along your folds. He poked painfully inside and growled.

“I’ve been patient but I see that my grace does not but inspire your petulance.” His other hand stroked his member as it bobbed before him, “So let us be done with it.”

You squirmed as he angled his cock down and kept his other hand on your cunt. He curled his thumb inside you as he guided his head to your entranced. He pushed against his knuckle as you wriggled helplessly, only adding to the painful pressure as he continued to prod at you.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he slid his thumb out and pushed harder. You strained around him as he sought entrance. “You tight little bitch.”

Your struggle only added to your discomfort. His hand stretched over your lower stomach as he held you in place and he forced his tip inside you. Your mouth opened in a silent scream at the pain as it shot up your spine.

“Stop!” You gasped. “Stop! Ow…”

Your voice fizzled as he gripped your hip and urged himself deeper. Another inch felt like much more and you bit down to keep from shrieking. You closed your eyes and tried to breathe through the pain. He grabbed your chin and bent over you as he slid further in.

“Look at me,” he growled as he squeezed your jaw, “Look at your king.” He bit his lip and snapped his hips down and impaled you completely. You cried out as waves of pain radiated through you. “You’re mine. My pet.”

He slid his hand around your neck and pulled you up suddenly. He sat back on his heels with you in his lap. He sank even further into you and you hung weak in his grasp. Every inch of you screamed as your vision swam.

He kept a hand behind your neck as the other rocked your hips. He moved you slowly but steadily. As you slickened, your motion grew easier but not less agonizing. Your walls throbbed around him as you panted against the coil at your neck.

You saw a smear of red against his chest, it spread as he moved you. You realised it was your blood, still trickling from his assault. 

“Look at me, mouse,” he snarled as he squeezed your neck. “Look at me.”

His green eyes bore into yours as he bounced you atop. He lifted you and slammed you back down so sharply that you moaned. Your legs bent around him as you tried to ease the pressure as that warmth gathered in your loins at the friction of him against your bud. Your thighs clenched as you felt the magical rise and you nearly forgot all but that immeasurable pleasure in your core.

He stopped you suddenly. He breathed deeply and jostled you a top him. He shifted so that he sat with his legs straight and he dropped onto his back. Both his hands grasped your hips and he rocked you again. You straddled him precariously as he guided your body over his.

The muscles of his arms bulged as he gazed up at you in a lusty haze, driven by it as he moved your hips faster and faster, pulling you down harder each time. There was a dark bruise along his shoulder but you quickly forgot it. You tried to swallow the sudden ecstasy that washed over you, as your nerves flurried and bounced in a storm of delight.

Your eyes rolled back and he dug his nails into your flesh. “Look at me…” he rasped and you obeyed without thought. 

His cheek twitched and his body went rigid then began to quiver beneath you. He held your hips in place and thrust into you from below. He grunted and groaned and a flow of heat spilled into you. He spasmed and slowed until he was still. He let out a long breath and his hands slipped to your thighs.

You sat stunned, as every muscle in your body suddenly ached. He tickled you as he lifted his hands and groped your chest. He played with your tits lazily and watched his hands. He circled your nipples with his thumbs and hummed. You felt a twitch inside of you. He carefully moved his hips.

“You will know your sentence tonight, little mouse,” he purred, “And you will serve it for so long as I wish.”

🐍

You slept, uncomfortably. Little spurts of unconsciousness where the stiffness never truly left your neck and the tenderness lingered in your cunt. Loki snored beside you, content. Your elbows ached, still bent and often trapped beneath your weight.

You woke for the last time as the sun began to rise. Shortly after, a tap came at the bedchamber door. Loki did not stir at first and did so with a groggy call for the disturber to enter. You bent your legs up to try to hid yourself as Hal appeared in the soft morning light.

“Your majesty, your breakfast,” the boy said as Loki sat up and rubbed his eyes. His hair was knotted and wild.

“In a moment,” Loki grumbled, “Take this,” he reached over to the dagger, “Did you also put away my armor?”

“I did, your majesty,” Hal took the knife and you closed your eyes in shame. Loki had the cover of the blankets but you had nothing.

“Very well, return in an hour for my bath,” he bid. The boy left without more than his assent.

Loki snickered and you felt his hand on your arm. He laid back and turned onto his side. He draped his arm around you and tugged at the knot by your wrists. He loosened the rope and pulled it away until you were free. The skin beneath was raw and warm.

He drew back and touched the mark he’d left on your chest. You winced and looked down as you fell onto your back and straightened your arms. His symbol, two snakes intertwined, skillfully cut into your flesh. You closed your eyes in shame.

“You will never forget me, mouse,” he murmured, “And none will ever forget that you are mine.”

You said nothing. You felt like crying; like screaming. He moved closer and you felt his hard member against your leg. He slipped from beneath the covers and lifted himself over you. He forced a knee between your legs. 

You opened your eyes as he held himself over you and pushed against your entrance. You gulped as he slid inside. It still hurt very much.

You braced his shoulders as he impaled you. You breathed between your teeth and peaked down at your bodies. He was covered in black and blue splotches; bruised from his battle with his brother, from which armor couldn’t even protect him.

“Do you like how I look inside you?” He teased, “How I feel?”

You turned your head away and stared at the wall. He chuckled and nuzzled your temple.

“I don’t know how I should ever keep myself from you now,” his hot breath seared your skin and you shivered as another heat began to blossom.

🐍

The wardrobe was locked and you were allowed no clothing when Loki left you. Nor were you allowed to stray from the bedchamber. The receiving chamber was also closed and you were to linger in your cell. The last of the tournament would be marked with a feast and the claiming of prizes by the champions.

You kept a sheet around you. You felt grimy and used. The king had bathed after he ate but had forbidden you the same. You were to remain filthy; his touch lingered on you; inside of you.

You sat by the window but did not look out. You listened to the titter of birds and the distant crowd. You weren’t so curious as before. The nobles could keep their games.

You dozed in the slat of sunlight that leaked in between the curtains and didn’t wake for some hours. Despite your despair and the way your nerves never quite stopped, you were too exhausted to resist. Your body was stiff as you woke in the chair, sore from the abuse of the king.

You rose and paced for a time. You found the book Loki had left on the side table and flipped through the pages. You didn’t know the letters or what they said but you admired the colourful illuminations. You felt an urge to cry but did not. Could not. That would be his final victory and you would keep it from him or as long as you could.

The day wore on and evening shrouded the sky without. You wondered if Loki would return with the same fervour or be too fatigued from a day of gaiety. You distracted yourself by twists and knotting the rope which had formerly bound you. A single lantern burned as you grew restless.

Then you heard the door. More jarringly, you heard a voice that was not the king’s. The deep tone was cheery and was met with Loki’s cool timbre. You moved to the door and listened as you hugged the sheet around you.

“Brother, it is late, I have an early morning,” Loki bemoaned, “I haven’t time for another drink.”

“But you do require it. Your mood remains.” The visitor, Thor you could guess, returned. “Are you so quick to be away? You might stay for another day. My wife is most happy to host your court.”

“The very court you left behind,” Loki countered.

“I do miss you, brother,” a chair leg whined against the floor and Loki sighed. “One glass. For me. For father.”

“In spite of father,” Loki replied. Glass met the table and you heard a cork pop. “One glass.”

The brothers went on as such. Little japes and jabs. You still wondered why the elder had stepped aside but he did sound happier away from the royal parade. You listened passively, knowing that when Thor was gone, Loki would have no reason to delay.

“I know you are still sour from our contest,” Thor intoned, “But know I did not mean to slight you.”

“A game. I know,” Loki assured him though he was less than convincing.

“You always did enjoy games.” Thor said, “You are adept at toying with others. It is why you will be a better king.”

There was a silence. A glass was set down.

“I know you did not come to praise me so, brother, so why is it you’ve chosen to hound my chambers this night?”

“Always so distrusting. I never looked at you as an adversary as you have me.” Thor replied. “Can’t we set this all behind us. You have the crown--”

“So why do you pace my chambers as if you have lost a precious ring?” Loki challenged.

“I have sat much today. I wish to stretch my legs.”

“You are a poor liar.” Loki sneered. “If you will not be forthright, you will leave me in peace.”

“Well, you know how it can be. How word travels quickly. How the slightest inconsistency does stir the servants to chatter and the ladies to repeat it.”

“As you said, brother, you aren’t so skilled at toying with others so what is it?”

“You are keeping a secret. From me. From your court.” Thor said staunchly, “You dress her in servant’s garb and keep her in your chamber but I do believe that boy with the dusty hair is your attendant.”

“What are you doing? Don’t--”

The door opened suddenly and you looked up as a large figure stood over you. You blinked and clutched the sheet as you got to your knees and backed away. Loki appeared beside his brother and wrenched him back.

“What does it matter if I seek relief?” Loki huffed, “You have your wife and it is no secret that her condition does see your eye astray.”

“Where did you get this creature?” Thor tried to pull away from his brother but Loki clung to him. 

“Never you mind. You’ve a staff of your own, an entire city of willing harlots beyond your gates.”

“I am only curious,” Thor shook off Loki and advanced on you again. You struggled to your feet and he raised his palms. “I will not hurt you, lady.”

You looked to Loki and he shook his head. As your eyes returned to Thor, his were on your chest, just above the sheet. You covered the incisions there. He smiled and spun back to his brother.

“Should you not marry before--”

“I have time to marry and I will find a princess to fill the crown,” Loki insisted, “You needn’t worry, brother. It is my throne now and I will tend to it.”

“And how should a princess feel when she is met with another in her spot? Even calling her a queen could not absolve her affront.”

“Why are you so concerned?” Loki spat.

“Merely… curious,” Thor neared his brother, “And surprised… perhaps she might ease that lance ever lodged up your--”

“Good night, brother,” Loki barked and strode to the door, “You’ve had your drink.”

“I understand your impatience,” Thor stopped by the door and looked back at you, “I understand it too well.”

“Just go.” Loki opened the door. “As I’ve said, I’ve an early morning.”

“Late night, as well,” Thor chuckled. “Good night, your majesty.”

With that, the elder Odinson left and the door was closed with venom. Loki spun and leaned against it with a growl. You watched through the door frame and his eyes met yours.

“I’m sorry--”

“Quiet,” Loki pushed himself away from the painted wood, “Come.”

He beckoned you forth and you reluctantly crossed the room. He met you halfway and tore the sheet away from your body. He pulled you close and ran his hands up and down your figure. He turned you and bent you over the table so that your hips met it with a pang.

He hastily untied his trousers and freed himself. He sheathed his cock in you without hesitation and you went rigid as you braced the table.

“You know what you’ve done?” He rutted into you as his words were harried by his breath. “My brother… he never let me have a toy of my own.” He crashed into you without relent. “Even the throne he did not hand over until he tired of it. Until he realised--” Loki groaned and sped up. “We must leave as soon as we can.”

[mach-speed-spin]

Beyraiderz had a great setup for a lot of interesting stuff, but it never went anywhere

Now, I know that there are a grand total of probably 0 people out there who think Beyraiderz is anywhere near as good as the other seasons. And possibly 1 or 2 people that genuinely liked it (out of the 5 that even watched it). It’s on YouTube on the official Metal Saga channel. Give it a go. It’s not great but it’s not terrible either. Plus the main rival character is a guy wearing a miniskirt. At no point is he ridiculed for it. Why is Beyblade better with gnc characters in 2013 than Hollywood in 2021? But I’m getting off track

Here are a few ideas that Beyraiderz introduced that never went anywhere (but should have). Spoilers for Wheelz and Raiderz ahead

Beyblade multiverse: If you’re not familiar with Wheelz and Raiderz (or just couldn’t understand the confusing ass finale of Wheelz. Don’t worry, it took me 3 watches), Beywheelz ends with Ryan succeeding in activating the portal. However, the portal is bigger than he thought. He expected to take less than 10 people. He took the whole city. So Team Estrella (plus Odin), decide to explore the new world they were transported to. The concept of a bey-verse should have been far more fleshed out. And it could have given us things like Hasbro’s other beyblade spinoffs (like XTS) anime appearences. Also, in Raiderz Ricky is stated to be from another universe, but they never followed up on that

Beys being rare/forgotten: In raiderz, there are a total of 6 beys in existence at the start of the series. By the end there are 7. Most people don’t know what beys are, and have no idea what the ruins of what used to be stadiums were used for. Rachel says that beys were common in ancient times, but that they fell into obscurity with time. Considering every beyblade series has beys be not only common knowledge, but the largest sport on Earth, this could have set Raiderz apart from the other series

Kaiser Grey/ Flame’s motivation: Let me get some lore out of the way. At some point in the past, Flame was the protector of the Raiderz world. Nature was controlled by six mythic beasts. Tempest was a villain who attempted to steal the power of the mythic beasts for himself, but was stopped by Flame. However, Flame died and the mythic beasts disappeared. Without the mythic beasts, a drought ensued and lasted long enough that Flame became a myth and there still wasn’t rain. In the present, 6 batters each came face to face with one of the mythic beasts. Battling in arenas would give them tokens, which would increase the power of the beasts until they could bring prosperity to the land again. Flame was revived as Kaiser Grey, but he was no longer a noble hero. He wanted to rule over the world with an iron fist, claiming that by giving people freedom, you allow them to abuse it (like Tempest did), and that it endangers everyone. The final battle is one of idelogies. Sacrificing saftey to achieve freedom or the other way around? This idea, handled well, could make Raiderz one of the best seasons with the villain alone

More use of bey magiic outside battles: Ever since the first season of the original series, we’ve had characters who would be considered superhuman in real life. The most common explanation for this is that they channel the power of their beys into their bodies. This was a theory at first but V-Force confirmed it was possible, when the villains state Tyson drew power from Dragoon allowing him to run at superhuman speeds (he outruns a car and a pack of dogs) G-Revolution gave us the inhumanly strong Moses/Crusher, the gravity-defying Mystel, and all those characters who grew wings for no reason. MFB had Ryuga’s teleportation, Zyro’s flaming hands, Wang Hu Zhong yeeting Da Xiang into a flying city, Tetsuya talking to crabs, and Gen can apparently breath underwater. Not to mention how impossibly durable all characters are. Burst has Lui’s hair, Delta’s hair, Aiger’s a super saiyan, several accounts of possesion, etc. You know what Raiderz had? A guy who could blow up boulders with his bare fist. There is no explaining Jin Ryu’s power as symbolic or anime logic. He straight up demolishes rocks by punching them (and has limited wind powers as well, making a kamehameha out of air). Like 99% of bey magic, it’s never explained but we can make the connection. Task can teleport/become invisible. Flame/Kaiser has a flaming eye. Raiderz could have elaborated so much on one of my favprite concepts in the franchise, but it didn’t

That all said, Raiderz was kinda fun. I just wish it could have done more

[wujificrec]

Genre Highlight: LWJ’s POV

Cursed by Feynite

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 2.8k | Notes: angst, family, grief/mourning, Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, fluff

Summary:

The Lan Clan is cursed with Love at First Sight.

Ashes of Winter by joannjoann

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 1.6k | Notes: Love at first sight, pining Wangji, angst, cursed, 13 years

Summary:

Usually, the calmest and most silent ones keep the strongest feelings. Lan WangJi in particular, feels more strongly than anyone could ever compare.

A glance into what Lan WangJi's went through shortly after Wei WuXian's death. He lost one life but found another.

you are the you who has dyed my lifetime red by Quixiote

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 4.7k | Notes:flower symbolism, pining, angst, fluff, love confession, 13 years

Summary: Lan Wangji was born with a gift.

Red Thread by Aki_no_hikari

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 1.7k | Notes: Soulmates AU, different first meeting, red string of fate, fluff, pre-canon

Summary: There were many reasons why a cultivator might never join their fated person, although that did not stop many from embarking in years-long searches for the person that was their other half, the one that would understand them and accept them, flaws and all. Others stumbled upon their fated person… sometimes quite literally. Lan Wangji happened to be one of the later.

The Adventures of Lan WangJi - Erotic Art by kitkat2010

NC-17 |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 2k | Notes: 13 years, Lan Zhan masturbating

Summary: A few years after Wei Wuxian's death, Lan WangJi goes to buy Emperor's Smile and erotic art books.

Return to Gusu with Me by EstelweNadia

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | Multi-Chapter: 5.5k | Notes: Fix-it (kinda), angst, friendship, friends to lovers, slow burn, what-if, canon-divergent 

Summary:

MDZS from Lan Wangji's POV. (ep 15 and ch 69 onwards) He would do whatever it takes, even if it meant laying his soul bare, for Wei Ying to come back with him. Chapter 1: Episode 15 - Beautiful Tranquillity Chapter 2: Episode 15 part 2- Honest Confession Chapter 3: Chapter 69 - Departure Part 1

just one minute more by dandelion_san

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 1k | Notes: Post-canon, fluff, sappy, cuddling & snuggling

Summary: In the hours while Wei Wuxian is still asleep, Lan Wangji struggles to get out of bed.

Sometimes when it's cold by taotrooper

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 1.1k | Notes: 13 years, post-WWX death, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, cuddling & snuggling, scars

Summary: The scars on Lan Wangji's back still hurt during the winter.

growing pains by luchiden

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 3k | Notes: Kid fic, 13 years, Lan Sizhui, post-WWZ death, angst, mourning/grief

Summary: For Lan Wangji the world begins and ends with Wei Wuxian.

i went looking for love (and found you, you, you) by GeneralPo

NC-17 |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 6.5k | Notes: Alternating POV, non-linear narrative, post-canon, smut, angst

Summary: 

In defiance of every celebrated scripture of common sense upheld since the establishment of the orthodox sects, Wei Wuxian returns to the world of the living, thirteen years gone and somehow no less brilliant than before. ------- Before they are truly beautiful, they break; together, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian pick up the pieces of a conversation left behind thirteen years ago, reconnecting them to the feelings they share today.

等一不归人 by FateTrash

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 722 words | Notes: pining, character study, 13 years, post-WWX death

Summary: Thirteen years. He's been a fool for thirteen years.

a bout of teenage rebellion a few years behind schedule by bosbie

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 1.9k | Notes: pining, fluff, introspection on LWJ’s part

Summary: 

Lan WangJi sneaks away from a night-hunt (and his brother) and arrives at YiLing to finally make peace with this ill-fated love. That does not happen. Wei WuXian shines too brightly for him to let go.

won't by then_came_thee

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 921 words | Notes: Wangji introspection, 13 years, post-WWX death, mourning/grief, pining

Summary:

Lan WangJi sneaks away from a night-hunt (and his brother) and arrives at YiLing to finally make peace with this ill-fated love. That does not happen. Wei WuXian shines too brightly for him to let go.

yearning by wolframvonbielefeld (maknaeline)

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 7.5k | Notes: Wangji character study, 13 years, post-WWX death, Lan Sizhui, angst, hurt/comfort, suicidal thoughts, depression, happy ending

Summary:

Thirteen years I have spent without you, Wei Ying, but my yearning has been fruitful.

Your - our son has grown up well.

Family by Quiet_crash

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | Multi-chapter: 47.1k | Notes: (unfinished), time travel, fix-it fic, 

Summary:

The truth of the matter was that when it came to taking care of people and their problems, both he and Wei Ying were of one mind. However, whereas Lan Wangji was taught to care for himself as much as other people, Wei Ying, from early age, was taught that him having needs was burdensome. He disregarded his own pain with frightening ease and offered up evey part of himself for others to use with no reservation.

Thus, Lan Wangji made sure that his husband's needs were never overlooked, his hurts never unadressed.

So it was that when they purified an ancient temple and its goddess benevolently offered them each a wish in return, Wei Ying asked for his family: for Jiang Cheng to never have lost his parents and his core, for Jiang Yanli to never have lost her husband and her own life because of him; Lan Zhan asked for Wei Ying.

The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks

NC-17 |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | Multi-Chapter: 67.8k | Notes: Canon-divergent, LWJ POV, angst, depression, hurt/comfort, slow burn, happy ending, smut, sharing a bed

Summary:

With Lan SiZhui almost grown, Lan WangJi began to question if there was much else to live for. Then an old wish came true, but at what cost? Or, a retelling of the events of the novel from the perspective of Lan WangJi.

I Dreamed Of You At Nighttime. by cherryburlesque

M |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-Shot: 7.3k | Notes: Canon-divergent, Yiling Patriach, Sunshot campaign, angst, happy ending, character study, getting together

Summary:

A confrontation after a tense war meeting, and kisses stolen on a bridge in the dark.

Lan Wangji had long since accepted the fact that he had no sense when it came to Wei Wuxian. His vision always narrowed down to one singular point, and everything else was secondary, including the rules of his own clan.

He’d come to terms with that knowledge months ago, when he broke the rules Lan by being outside the Cloud Recesses at night, playing Inquiry for the upteenth time in the hope of an answer.

The long road home by dea_liberty

M |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-Shot: 9.1k | Notes: Post-canon, family, happy ending, feelings, marriage, angst, 13 years

Summary:

Lan Wangji doesn’t watch as Wei Ying walks away with half his soul, while Lan Wangji walks away with a paper man, infused with a little bit of Wei Ying’s spiritual energy, tucked in flat against his chest like it can replace half of his heart.

In the aftermath of everything, they weave their way through the past and the present, and towards the future they'll make together.

Finally, Lan Wangji finds his way home.

breathing gym by victortor

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-Shot: 2.9k | Notes: Canon-compliant, LWJ POV, panic-attacks

Summary:

Lan Wangji, in a pause.

Or,

At the rendezvous point, after capturing the perpetrator responsible for the rumors of Xinglu Ridge, Lan Wangji waits for Wei Wuxian to return.

After the Drought by Aki_no_hikari

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-Shot: 4.1k | Notes: Canon-divergent, Yiling Wei Sect, family, fluff, angst, happy ending, LWJ POV

Summary:

Point of divergence: chapter75, lwj stays to eat that night… and seeing that they need him, he stays the next day and the next...

Driven by feelings and morals, Lan Wangji leaves the Cloud Recesses and his family behind. Fourteen years of hardship later, he comes back as a father and leader.

asymptotic by chinxe

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | Multi-Chapter: 26.7k | Notes: Canon-divergent, angst, happy ending, slow burn, misunderstandings, pining, LWJ POV

Summary:

The members of the Lan Clan have never been particularly well-known for their good judgement when it comes to matters of the heart.

Which is why it should come as a surprise to no one when Lan Wangji falls in love with an actual ghost.

Looking at You Always, All Ways by Keysmashed

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | Multi-Chapter: 29.1k | Notes: Canon-divergent, time travel, fix-it fic, fluff, angst, happy ending, LWJ POV

Summary:

Lan Wangji thought it was just a dream but the pain of being pierced in the chest by his own sword, by his own self whose appearance was taller and older was too real. The ground under his feet disappeared and he fell, and fell, and continued falling until a voice he thought he would never hear again broke his fall and suddenly, he was no longer falling. It was the voice he had so dearly missed.

Wei Ying's voice.

----A Time Travel Fix-It where Lan Wangji goes back in time to his first fateful encounter with Wei Wuxian for a chance to rewrite history.

Why Didn't You Say? by preciousbunnynoiz

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-Shot: 2.5k | Notes: Canon-divergent, fluff, angst, happy ending, love confessions, inquiry, 13 years, Lan Sizhui

Summary:

“Father? One of the other boys said that using the guqin you could...speak to the dead.”

Ah.

Lan WangJi had wondered when this would happen.

A-Yuan asks Lan WangJi to help him speak to someone who he barely remembers and that triggers a reunion and also confessions and confusions.

[dragonanddirewolf]

The Ice King and Dragon Queen

Once upon a time in the far North, where the snow never stops falling and all buildings are clad in ice, sat a man in a great hall feasting with his men. The man had raven hair and grave eyes, and he sat at the main table although he was no lord, for he was named King by the men before him. The man’s name was Jon, and he was troubled.

Winter had arrived at Winterfell, but the North knew winter well, hence it was not the season darkening his mind. The King had heard tales about dead men rising from the ice, and though no man could yet prove to have seen these creatures, the history books spoke of such occurrences.

Jon was a fighter with a gleaming sword named Longclaw, and his men too came from brave houses, but according to his maester none of this would matter.

Maester Aemon told him: “My King, these are dark times, and they grow darker by the day. If we are to see the sun shine once again, we must defeat the evil from beyond the Wall.”

“What can defeat what not even death could claim?” Jon asked.

Aemon replied: “Only rain quenches a drought. Only love overcomes hate. Only fire will melt the ice.”

“Though wood is scarce, we have fire,” Jon spoke. This was true; alongside every hall in Winterfell, and there were more of these than can be counted by a common man, flickered a torch. In every chamber a fireplace was ablaze. Even in the courtyard a great fire roared, warming those unable to attend the meal inside.

“Common fire will not kill the dead,” spoke the maester. “Only flames breathed by a dragon can give these men peace.”

“There are only three dragons in the Seven Kingdoms,” spoke Jon, “and they are guarded by their Queen. But it shall be so; I will set out first thing tomorrow.”

“I will gift you this for your journey,” Aemon said as he presented the King with a bag. It was a knapsack of worn leather with a rusty clasp keeping it shut. “This will grant you four things you need for your travels. What these things are, I do not know. Whenever you are in need, reach into the bag, and you shall find your way forward. But use it with care - for only four gifts shall emerge, then no more.”

The King thanked the maester for his kindness and then set off to bed. He was still troubled as the night carried on, but with the knapsack at his side, he felt a little more at peace.

At the break of dawn, the King set out on his journey. To avoid attracting attention, he kept his company small; to his right rode his Hand Ser Davos, a man whose guidance he knew to be fair, and on his left trudged his trusted direwolf Ghost, a large white beast with eyes as red as blood.

For the first seven days they travelled at sunrise and settled at sunset, finding shelter at inns along the way. In these lands, the King was well known and liked by the people, so food was served aplenty and the bed always free of charge. In the evenings, as the townspeople gathered around their table, the King spoke to the worried folk, promising them peace and prosperity. He assured them he was seeking to fight their cause down South, and no man questioned his words. Wherever they went, they were met with smiles, and the bards sung songs of praise:

The King, His Grace Born from Ice In him we Trust The North shall Rise

The King, His Grace Fighting the Fight Akin the Gods He leads us Right

For the following seven days, the daylight hours seemed to stretch further into the evenings, and ice started melting off the roads. Hardened weirwood trees were replaced by hundreds of rivers, fresh grasslands and fields of corn and barley. Instead of feasting on blood sausages and potatoes, the King and Ser Davos were served fish and fresh vegetables. However much they likened the change to their meals, they also sensed a change to the folk surrounding them. The King’s face was known, but his powers did not reach into the riverlands, and here the people were wary. In the evenings, no one gathered by their table, and the bards sung songs of caution:

Kings and Queens Who can Recall Which one will Rise Which one will Fall

Kings and Queens Are sure to Battle And smallfolk will Fall Akin to Cattle

Seven more days followed of rivers and roads leading through thick woodlands. At Ser Davos’ advice, they spent that night sleeping under the stars. He said:

“In the North, you are a hero. But the further South we travel, the less power your title of King carries. You have no royal blood to speak of, and no family name attached to your claim. Many here do not know of your face.”

“This is true,” agreed Jon.

“I suggest we hold our coin. Men of the North are not known for their riches. To pay our way as we have before would arise suspicion.”

“Yet we must find a way to get presented to the Queen,” Jon spoke. “I have heard she is kind, but this does not mean she is not cautious. Why should she welcome a stranger?”

“To present yourself as King could cause undue trouble,” Ser Davos warned.

For days, the King’s mind had found peace in the surroundings, but at his Hands’ words it was as if his troubles returned at once. As their bonfire died out, he buried himself in Ghost’s warm fur and answered the silent night: “Yet to deny my claim could mean the end of the North.”

As the sun rose, they were awakened by the sound of galloping horses. Light was still sparse in the thick of the wood, so the King and Ser Davos stepped into the bushes with their hands on the sword hilts in preparation for a fight.

At first, they could see nothing in between the trees, but then an entourage of men appeared. Each was clad in shiny armour decorated with fine stones, and each was atop a strong white stallion neighing with fury. As the men noticed the King and Ser Davos, they turned their horses and rode through the shrubs to surround them. Jon counted at least thirty men, but it was the man atop a black stallion who demanded their attention.

“If you planned an ambush, you should’ve brought more men,” he spoke, riding into the midst of the circle to stop before the King. “Who are you?”

Jon looked upon the man. He was dressed in hardened leather, his brown hair was roughly chopped at his nape, and his dark eyes were filled with suspicion. His hand rested at his belt where he held not a sword but an arakh. Jon wondered if he was from outside the Seven Kingdoms.

It was Ser Davos who spoke: “We wish no fight. We are mere travellers on our way to King’s Landing.”

“I have never met a traveller carrying fine steel,” spoke the man and pointed to Jon’s sword. “However I have met thieves who claimed such possessions to be their own. I shall only ask once more - who are you?”

Jon knew he could not fight off thirty men, yet he could not admit his kinghood either. As Ser Davos had warned, speaking of the North in these parts could cause trouble, and now they were looking at said problem.

As the man’s face grew impatient, Jon remembered maester Aemon’s words and he reached into the knapsack at his side. His fingertips closed around a small, cold form, and as he held out his hand, he presented the man with a ring.

The sunlight from above fell through the leaves, and it made the golden jewelry shine. It was a man’s ring, thick and smooth, and atop it carried the Targaryen sigil; a three headed dragon, the eyes decorated with rubies.

The man’s face turned pale. “Forgive me,” he spoke, “I did not know you represent the Queen. My name is Daario Naharis. How can I be of assistance?”

“We wish only to travel in peace,” Jon spoke.

“It shall be so. Please allow me to lead you through the woods, for there are many more men heading this way who will make the same mistake. Should hardship befall you, I would blame myself for not helping.”

“Forgive me, but I thought these woods were no longer well travelled,” spoke Ser Davos.

The man looked surprised. “Surely you jest, Ser? After the Queen’s announcement, men from all of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond now travel these roads daily. Albeit rough, it is the most direct route.”

“You too travel for this reason?” spoke Jon, choosing his words with care not to reveal that they did not know of any announcement.

“Why of course. A marriage to the Queen? What foolish man would not present himself at this opportunity!”

They bid their farewells at the edge of the woods, and the King and Ser Davos watched the men ride off into the distance.

“The Queen is to be married?” Ser Davos spoke once he was certain they were alone. “Why, this is the perfect guise to meet her.”

“I do not wish to play her for a fool,” Jon spoke.

“You would only do so if she wishes to take your hand,” Ser Davos said. “Besides, I am sure many men will approach King’s Landing at this proclamation. We shall hide ourselves amongst them.”

The King seemed less certain. “Truly? How many eligible lords reside in the Seven Kingdoms?” he asked.

Ser Davos smiled: “My King, who said anything about lords?”

The King had brought Ser Davos along for his guidance, and as always it turned out to be correct. As they rode toward King’s Landing, they passed many lords dressed in their finest garb preparing for an audience with the Queen. These lords were either atop the finest stallions known to man, or they rode inside carriages decorated with gold, and all of them were followed by their soldiers and liegemen. They made for an impressive sight.

However they met many more common men; burly smiths dressed in homemade armour, and farmers riding carriages filled with whatever little they owned, and peasants, hundreds of them, walking on their own two feet only, their belongings fitting into a single sack in their hand.

Though most had never seen the Queen, bards danced along the way, begging for coin as they sung songs of promise:

The Queen, the Queen With silver Hair Her rule is Strong Her skin is Fair

The Queen, the Queen A sight to See All dressed in White A bride to Be

“I worry she shall have no time to speak to me,” Jon said as they stopped for the night. Although they had decided to spend some coin on an inn, they had been unable to find anywhere with a bed still available. Even the stables were filled to the brim with men seeking shuteye on the hay, the horses left to fend for themselves in the summer night.

Instead, they camped by the roadside, watching as some men continued to walk through the falling darkness.

“You will have to compete for her attention,” Ser Davos agreed. “But I cannot imagine that she will see each and every one of these men.”

“I just don’t understand,” Jon spoke as he rested his head between his hands and glanced into the flames of the bonfire. “From the tales I’ve heard about the Queen, she was never described for her looks, only her power, her kindness, and her justice. Now, every bard in the kingdom sings of her silver hair and violet eyes.”

“Most men marry for beauty or wealth,” Ser Davos said. “It would make no sense for them to sing of her rule.”

“That is what I don’t get,” Jon spoke.

“Forgive me, my King, but I do not follow?”

The King furrowed his brows as he scowled at the fire in thought. “Why would a powerful Queen invite every man in the Seven Kingdoms to beg for her hand? It seems not a wise thing to do.”

“My King, you are without a bride yourself. Perhaps akin to you, she has not met someone for whom her heartbeat quickens. Perhaps she only wishes for someone to make her with child. It is not for us to worry about. Keep your eyes on our goal - we need her dragons.”

“Perhaps,” Jon nodded, but as Ser Davos drifted off to sleep, he remained awake. Once the flames died out, he glanced toward the starry sky instead, and wondered: “Why can I not rid myself of this feeling of unrest?”

-

Before they reached King’s Landing, chaos unfolded before them.

It was as if overnight a town had grown around the capital itself; a town of tents, and tables filled with merchants’ wares, joustings knights on the fields proving their valour, lords and ladies seeking to secure their offsprings’ claim through agreements with other houses, children playing on the road, peasants drinking in the ditch.

The King and Ser Davos rode slowly through the makeshift place, Ghost leading the way as his size forced the crowds to part before them. Wherever they looked, there was something anew to look upon, and this change from the cold, silent North almost overwhelmed Jon.

“My people are preparing to fight for their lives,” he spoke, “whilst here no one feels hardship.”

“I hear the Queen is supported by the Golden Company,” Ser Davos spoke. “No doubt it has impacted the coin coming through the city.”

“I suppose not every man could fit beyond the city walls,” Jon said, “so instead here they camp. I wish not to be one of them, I must hurry home as soon as I can.”

“Then think quickly,” Ser Davos said and gestured ahead.

The King brought his horse to a halt as they stood before the city walls. Here, the main entrance had been shut, and sellswords from the Golden Company stood aplenty blocking the little side entrance. Every man who approached them was questioned and, Jon noted after a few minutes of observation, more often than not turned away.

“There are seven gates,” Ser Davos reminded him. “My King, perhaps another will be less protected?”

The King looked around them. As far as his eyes could see, tents and market stalls stretched around the walls, and so did a thick line of sellswords. “I am afraid you might be in the wrong,” Jon spoke. “One gate is as good as the other. I must find my way in.”

“State your purpose!” a man roared.

Only then did Jon realise that he had been approached. Two sellswords clad in gold stood before him, their eyes barely visible through the narrow holes in their helmets.

“We wish to trade,” Ser Davos said.

“You can join the market behind you,” the men advised.

“Our wares are fine,” Ser Davos pressed on, “we only wish to speak to shopkeepers.”

“Force me not to repeat myself twice,” the men warned, their hands on the hilt of their swords.

Jon knew he had to interrupt. “Sers,” he spoke and got off his horse. Before the broad men, he appeared small; he was at least a head shorter than both, and his simple black clothing and cloak no match for their thick armour. Somehow, it seemed they realised this too as the men relaxed. For the moment, their hands left their swords. “Forgive us, we have travelled a long way. We need to go beyond the city walls. We have good coin.”

“Many have good coin. Did you not see the lords when you rode here?” one of the men asked. “The Queen has commanded that no more men are allowed into the city.”

“Surely this must be a mistake,” Ser Davos spoke. “Is she not seeking marriage?”

The men scowled, and they both knew at once that he had spoken in error. “Our orders are not to be questioned,” the sellswords spoke, drawing their swords. “If it is trouble you seek, we shall comply!”

In that moment, Jon’s fingertips brushed across the knapsack at his side, and he once more recalled maester Aemon’s words. He swiftly pushed his hand into the bag and retrieved a scroll.

As he offered it to the men, he could tell their hesitation, for it carried the Targaryen seal.

“Please, Sers,” he spoke, “I did not wish to show you this, but we have been officially invited. Read and you shall see.”

Urged on by the King’s earnestness, one of the men accepted the scroll, broke the seal and read the content within. What it said, neither Jon nor Ser Davos knew, and they were not offered a peek themselves. Instead, they were quickly ushered inside the side gate, much to the uproar from the people behind them.

“We too wish to be let inside!” men shouted. “We too wish to see the Queen!” But the door was shut behind them, and Jon, Ser Davos and Ghost found themselves alone on the streets of King’s Landing.

“I only have two gifts left,” Jon spoke that night.

They were seated in an inn within the walls, dining on the local stew and ale. They had not dared to spend their coin on better food, so they filled their mouths with thick grub whilst looking longingly at the table next to them where a lord was stuffing himself with veal.

“Well, we have made the journey,” Ser Davos spoke. “Perhaps you will not even need it.”

“Aye, we’ve made the journey, yet my travels are not over,” Jon spoke. “Do you not find the situation strange?”

“I find it wiser not to speak,” Ser Davos said and stuffed his mouth with bread.

Jon glanced around them, just to ensure no one was listening, before he too dipped back into his food.

They had wandered the streets of King’s Landing for hours and found the place to be strangely empty. In comparison to the many men they had seen approach, few had made it inside the walls.

Jon pondered upon the situation; the Queen had announced her intention to marry, yet she wished not to see any men. They had attempted to approach the Red Keep only to be turned away by the Kingsguard situated there. In comparison to the sellswords outside the gates, they had been more gentle as they spoke:

“My apologies, the Queen will not see anyone.”

“We have been invited,” Ser Davos had told them, “Did your men at the gate not tell?”

“My apologies, the Queen will not see anyone,” they had repeated, and they continued to do so until the King and Ser Davos turned and left for the inn.

Jon poked around his stew with a piece of bread. “We must find a way,” he spoke.

“Yes,” Ser Davos yawned, “tomorrow we shall find a way, but tonight we shall sleep - and in a bed for once. I bid you goodnight.” He nodded his head at the King who returned the gesture.

Jon watched Ser Davos make his way upstairs before getting up himself. “I shall bid Ghost goodnight,” he told himself, “and then I too shall seek the bed.”

Outside, Ghost was waiting by the door. Jon stepped into the warm summer night and offered the direwolf a slice of meat. “I am sorry, Ghost, it was all I could buy without causing suspicion,” he spoke as he watched the wolf swallow the meat at once. He was about to turn back inside as a shadow caught his eye.

There, on the otherwise empty streets, walked a woman. She was clad in black, causing her to be almost invisible in the shadow, and her brown hair bobbed around her head as she hurried along. It was only when she shortly stepped into the moonlight that Jon noticed the pin upon her chest; three dragons spun together in a silver circle.

As quietly as he could muster, Jon took off behind her, trailing her footsteps up the street, around corners, down narrow alleys. He wondered if she knew she was being followed, for she sped up at once, her feet taking her around a corner in such a hurry he was sure he would lose sight of her. But then, as he too turned the corner, he was met with a silver blade to his throat.

“Why do you follow me?” the woman asked in a whisper.

Jon held his hands up to show he had no weapon drawn. “I noticed your pin,” he admitted.

“You speak as if you do not know me,” she said.

“I do not,” Jon admitted. He felt he had no choice but to choose the truth. The knife pressed harder to his skin.

“Do you jest?”

“I am no jester.”

“You wish to see the Queen.” Jon must have looked surprised at this, for the woman smiled. “Of course. That is the wish of every man, but especially a fraud.”

“Why do you call me so?” Jon asked.

“The sellswords told me of a man entering the city with an official letter from the Queen. Now, they are but foolish men, but I am Hand to the Queen. I know of no such letter, so therefore no such letter exists.” The knife was now pressed so tight to Jon’s throat that he was sure blood was flowing. Yet, when he glanced down, he saw none. “I will give you one chance only to explain yourself.”

For a third time, Jon’s fingertips stroke across the knapsack. He knew of no other way to save himself, so he reached in and said, “Will this convince you?” and held out his hand.

In his palm, he held a single winter rose. It appeared so bright and frail that he almost couldn’t believe its existence. Of all the gifts he had produced, this seemed the least favourable, and yet the woman before him appeared shocked.

She put away her blade and instead reached out to touch the blue petals, as if to ensure they were real. “You wish to see the Queen?” she whispered. “It shall be so. Follow me.”

Alone in the night, his bag now almost devoid of gifts, and holding a blue rose only, Jon walked with the woman to the Red Keep, and the King thought to himself: I shall now either fail my kingdom or grant it its freedom. He knew not yet which.

As the King entered the great hall, he was struck by the sheer size of the Iron Throne.

Made from melted swords, it rose from the marble floor toward the ceiling, each step of the way hardened by the twisted blades sticking out before it. It was more beast than beauty, and Jon found himself thinking that this truly was a seat of power.

The hall was greatly lit with hundreds of torches along the walls. The flames reflected in the stained-glass windows, causing colourful lights to dance all around him. Yet, the further up the throne his gaze went, the darker it got. The shape of the backrest was so twisted and grand that it caught itself in its own shadow, and it was only as his eyes got used to the darkness that he noticed someone was seated atop. It could only be the Dragon Queen.

The King lowered his head in respect. “Your Grace,” he spoke, “I thank you for seeing me at this hour.”

The Queen did not speak. Instead, she slowly got up from the seat and started making her way down the stairs. Each step was slow and calculated, and she stopped halfway, her body revealed to the light whilst her face was still in the shadows. Jon could see she was clad in a long, blue dress, delicately embroidered with fiery dragons. Whenever the folds in her skirt moved, they seemed to come alive, dancing alongside her hemline.

They reminded the King of his purpose, and so he spoke: “Your Grace, I mean no harm. I have travelled a long way to see you.” He lifted his gaze to seek hers, but he could not determine her expression in the darkness. “I come only to ask one thing of you.”

Finally, the Queen spoke: “Many men have travelled far to see me. In this you are not alone.”

“I have heard so, your Grace,” Jon agreed, “however what I ask of you will differ from them.”

“That I have heard many men say too,” the Queen said. “Every man believes himself to be different. No one aliken themself to their peers.” She folded her hands in front of her as she paused, then continued: “But it is true. You do differ.”

Feeling a sense of hope, Jon allowed himself to straighten up. “Your Grace,” he started in earnest, but the Queen’s sharp voice cut through:

“You are different in that you deceived my men, and you tried to deceive my Hand, and now you believe you can deceive me.”

“I have done no such thing,” the King protested, “nor do I wish to.”

The Queen flickered her hand, and a light shimmered in the air. Something hit the ground with a sharp noise, then rolled across the floor to his feet.

As Jon looked down, he saw the ring he brandished when Daario questioned him.

“My Hand sneaked this from your pocket when you met,” the Queen spoke. “Do you deny it is yours?”

“I do not,” the King spoke.

“Then at least you have some honour left. Now tell me,” she said, taking one more step down so that her whole frame was bathed in light, “why I shouldn’t let my dragons feast on you?”

It was then the King realised that the bards’ had sung in earnest about their Queen’s appearance; she had long hair which shimmered like silver, black lashes framed her violet eyes hard akin jewels, and her skin was as fair as snow.

He averted her eyes with another headbow. “Your Grace,” he spoke, “I understand every man in the Seven Kingdoms seeks your hand in marriage.”

“They do, and even common folk have dressed in their finest garbs before approaching the Keep, yet you stand before me like a traveller.”

This the King could not deny. His clothes had remained the same for most of his journey, and tonight was no different. His black tunic and breeches were simple, and his cloak made of roughspun wool to blend in with the townspeople. But here, where every man wished to offer a themself to the Dragon Queen, he stood out for the wrong reasons. He was like a fool who did not know his left from his right, and he reddened under the Queen’s scrutiny.

“Your Grace, I mean no disrespect,” he assured.

“Yet you keep calling me Grace and not Queen,” the Queen noted as she stepped further down the throne. The closer she came, the more of him she seemed to take in, her eyes seeking his body.

“I apologise, but I will not allow myself to deceive you,” Jon spoke.

“How so?” the Queen asked, now on her final step.

“My name is Jon,” he spoke, “but I am commonly known as the King in the North.”

On this final step, the Dragon Queen paused as her eyes grew wide. She was watching the King before her for a few seconds before she spoke: “You are the one they call the Ice King.”

“That is a nickname of mine,” Jon agreed.

“Peculiar. I imagined an Ice King to be blond,” the Queen pondered.

At this, the King smiled. “I apologise for the disappointment.”

“How do I know you are truly who you say you are?” the Queen asked, her eyes narrowed in thought. Her hands slipped to the small of her back as she leaned forward, gazing into Jon’s eyes.

At this, Jon reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a ring of his own. The band was silver, and atop it was decorated with the Stark siegel, the head of a direwolf. “I offer you this,” he spoke, “but also what convinced your Hand to trust me,” and in his other hand, he presented the single blue rose.

It seemed to the Queen the ring mattered less than the rose, for she took the flower and held it before her eyes, watching it with awe. “These are hard to come by,” she spoke. “They grow only in the cold.”

“I did say I travelled far,” Jon spoke.

The Queen lowered the rose. “I get the feeling you did not approach me to propose a marriage.”

The King shook his head. “No, your Grace, I am afraid my proposal is less joyous.”

The Queen seemed to ponder for a moment, then she gestured for him to follow. “Let us speak in a more private chamber,” she said.

It was only then, as she led him behind the throne and further into the Keep, that Jon realised they had been watched the whole time. Alongside the balconies above them stood men brandishing crossbows, each of them with an arrow pointed straight at him, their eyes following him coldly.

The Dragon Queen stood in front of a window, her eyes grave as she watched King’s Landing stretch out before her. “What you ask of me is a lot,” she spoke, “more than the men who seek my hand.”

“I would not ask if I did not believe the North to be in dire danger,” the King spoke. He was seated at a table in her chamber, a map laid out before him. On it, she had circled Winterell, alongside with the Wall of the North. Somewhere between the two, the dead now roamed, that he knew. However the Queen seemed less certain.

“You have seen these dead men?” she asked.

“I have not,” Jon admitted. “But my maester has studied the history books. The tales do not lie.”

“Forgive me, but I disagree,” she spoke and turned to look at Jon. “The history books always lie. Are they not written by those who won the wars?”

“The maesters write the books,” Jon said, “they work from a perspective of truth.”

“The truth is not a perspective,” the Queen smiled. “I am afraid your heart is not as cold as the North from which you come. You think people too kind.”

“I want to believe that your heart is not cold either,” Jon spoke. “I want to believe that you will lend us your dragons for this fight, lest we shall fall.”

“My dragons are my strength,” the Queen spoke. “I am called the Dragon Queen. My dragons are not simple cattle to be ordered around. They are great beasts with a mind of their own. They are my children.”

“I apologise if I offended you,” Jon spoke, “but my people rely on me for their safety. I must do all in my power to grant them a peaceful life.”

“That I can admire,” the Queen spoke. She once again turned to look out of the window, this time waving for Jon to join her. As he stood by her side, she gestured at the scene before them. “Look, this is the heart of the Kingdom. Whoever sits on the Iron Throne also sits on the responsibility of protecting this realm. If I take off with my dragons, who shall see to my people?”

“Last I checked, the North was part of the Seven Kingdoms,” Jon spoke.

“Yet you do not consider me your rightful Queen, or else you should not be named King,” she retorted.

The King knew she was right, so he spoke no more, but just watched the city with her. They had been talking for so long that the sun was now rising. In the horizon, the pale light started stretching its way across the land.

It was the Queen who broke the silence: “I am no coward. I believe in righteousness. I will fight evil where I see it. I shall not be broken.” She glanced at Jon, and he saw in her eyes a sadness. “But alas, I find myself in a war in which I am a stranger.”

“You are at war?” the King spoke in surprise.

“The men at the gates seek my hand. This is known. They have all heard the announcement, and they have all come to claim me as their own. Some of them come with ill wills, but many only seek to better their future. This I cannot fault them.” The Queen folded her hands at her front as she sighed. “Understand this; I did not make the announcement.”

The King furrowed his brows in confusion. “You do not seek to marry?”

“Once I did. But the man betrayed me.” The Queen walked back into the chamber, looking ahead of her as she spoke: “What do most men seek from this world?”

“I do not know,” Jon admitted. He turned to watch her walk. “Power? Wealth?”

“Most men seek to leave a mark on this world. A mark that will last for centuries. That kind of mark requires an heir.” She turned to look at him, the sadness once again twinkling in her eyes. “The man whom I was to marry betrayed me for I could not offer him what he wanted.”

“You cannot bear children,” Jon concluded quietly.

“It is by his words that I am now seeking marriage. He thought there would be no greater humiliation to me than for men to ask my hand, only to turn away once they find me barren.” The Queen shook her head. “Now, the bards sing of my looks, this I know. But trust me - if word was to come out, they would sing of nothing but my lack of womanhood.”

“I ask you not to speak of this, I ask you to join me in fight,” Jon promised, but the Queen shook her head once more.

“If I am to leave the Keep with my dragons, it would read as a sign of defeat. The Queen has fled her people, the Queen is chasing the northern King. The Queen submits to a man. I have partaken in those tales before. I do not wish to partake in another.”

The King did not know what words to speak. For a moment, his fingertips brushed across his knapsack as he remembered maester Aemon’s words once more. If only he was to reach inside the bag, he would surely find a magical gift that could convince the Queen to assist him.

However, as he looked into her sad eyes, he found himself unable to undo the clasp. For what man uses magic to steer the will of a woman? Only a devil in disguise.

As he remained silent, the Queen took it as a sign to conclude: “You understand now, Ice King, why I cannot lend you my dragons. I am in a position of strength and weakness all at once. The strength must win, or I shall fail as Queen.”

It was the Queen’s Hand who let him out of the Keep. They walked in silence, but as he stood by the gates to the city, he turned to look upon her.

“I am sorry,” she spoke.

“I am too,” he said. “Please, may I ask one question before I leave?” The Hand nodded, and the King continued: “Why did the winter rose convince you to bring me here?”

At this, she appeared surprised. “Did the Queen not tell?” she asked.

“She took the rose, but she did not say why this made her trust me.”

“It is not for me to say,” the Hand spoke. Her brown eyes sought the floor and for a moment the King believed she would say no more. But then she spoke: “It is the prophecy.”

“What prophecy?” he asked in earnest.

“It is not for me to say,” the Hand repeated her earlier statement. “My apologies, you must leave now.” At this, the doors opened, and the King found himself walking the long way from the Keep to the inn, all alone in the empty streets once more.

However, he did not make it far before both Ser Davos and Ghost were upon him.

“My King!” Ser Davos called. “You had me worried. Where have you been all night?”

“I spoke to the Queen,” the King explained.

Ser Davos looked surprised, but he urged him on: “Did she agree?”

Jon shook his head. “She will not lend us her dragons.”

“I feared this would happen,” Ser Davos said. “Can we convince her?”

“I am afraid she has her reasons,” Jon spoke and, before his Hand could say another word, he decided: “We should spend our coin wisely and gather all the weapons we can - we must make sure our men can fight.”

“Steel will not kill the dead,” Ser Davos spoke sadly.

“No,” the King agreed, “but it will delay our own demise.”

-

As they made their way back up North, their horses were heavy with swords, and the weight slowed them down. However, they had barely made it to the riverlands before they could tell things had changed. At the edge of the woods, where they had before slept, they now saw signs of ice creeping across the forest floor.

“Winter is upon us,” the King spoke as the first snowflakes swirled through the air above them. “I hope we are not too late.”

“We must press on,” Ser Davos spoke, “and ride all the way through the night.” So they did - as the sun set, they continued, fighting their way through the darkness guided by Ghost’s sight only, and they rested just for an hour or two before sunrise, leaving their eyes caked in sleep. So they carried on for weeks, as the snow grew thick around them, and the riverlands turned akin to the North itself.

At their first break at an inn, they found no fish and vegetables to be served. Instead, the innkeeper could only offer them watered down ale and stale bread. “My apologies,” he spoke, “this is all we have left. Winter came so sudden. I fear we shall starve our way through.”

The King and Ser Davos ate the bread in solemn silence, both of them aware that if winter was to last, no one would starve their way through. The season would be too long for mankind to survive.

On their way, the King noted that the mood had changed. Where before people had watched them with caution in the midlands, they were now scarcely noticed. Everyone was too busy gathering what little they could in preparation for the season, and the bards no longer sung of caution but rather fear:

Kings and Queens It matters Not All lives Winter Takes It cannot be Stopped

Kings and Queens Men of strong Will It matters Not All it shall Kill

“These are gloomy songs,” Ser Davos spoke once to a young bard who had entertained at the inn. “Could you not sing something else? The Bear and the Maiden Fair, perhaps?”

The bard only shook his head and replied: “We bards are the history keepers. We sing of what we see and what we know. Alas, this is all we know these days. Ice and snow and death. They say the dead are rising. Would you like to hear a song about that?”

Ser Davos handed him a silver coin for his silence.

By the time the King and Ser Davos reached Winterfell, they could barely make their way through the dense snow to the castle. Once inside the warm hall, as he was shedding his cloak stiff from ice, Jon’s sister Sansa approached him with concern.

“Did it work?” she asked. “Did you convince the Dragon Queen to come?”

The King shook his head sadly. “She cannot come.”

“So it shall be,” Sansa spoke quietly. She turned to face the fire in the great hall, a solemn look on her face. “This place shall become our crypt.”

“I will not sit still as the dead approach,” Jon said, and as he spoke he turned to face his men in the hall. They were seated at the tables, looking hopeless at their hands, but their heads rose at once as their King spoke. “No one should sit still and await death. That is no way to face uncertainty. We shall stand brave, and we shall fight, and the Gods be good, it shall be a good fight.” He drew Longclaw and held it up, the blade shimmering in the light from the fire as he shouted: “Men, will you fight for the living!”

And at once, they all rose, each brandishing their own sword, and they joined in the shouting, promising: “We will fight ‘till the end!”

As the men journeyed outside, setting up their defences, Sansa pulled the King aside for a quiet word. “You should seek maester Aemon,” she said. “I am afraid the cold has taken its toll on him.”

“Is he dying?” Jon spoke with concern, but Sansa could not bear to even nod. Instead of waiting for a reply, Jon hurried through the hall and up the stairs to the maester’s chambers.

He found the door ajar, and the maester in bed, his pale, blind eyes searching the ceiling. As he entered, the maester spoke: “So you return, my King.”

“Maester Aemon,” Jon greeted. He approached the bed with hesitation, but finally sat down on the edge as the maester reached out for him. His hand felt so small and frail in his own.

“I am afraid darkness is descending upon me,�� the maester spoke. “A strange thing for a blind man to say, perhaps, but true nonetheless. I feel it in my bones. My end is near.”

“Is there anything I can do?” the King asked.

“You spoke to the Queen,” the maester said. “This I know.”

“I’m sorry.” He could not face the maester as he spoke, but instead eyed the floor: “I could not convince her to come.”

“Trust in the prophecy,” spoke the maester.

At this, Jon looked at the old man with surprise. “You know of the prophecy?”

The maester smiled as he spoke:

“When darkness swallows the moon, and mankind turns on itself

When seasons fight for truth, when North and South collides

Then shall the blue winter bloom, then shall beasts rise from afar

Then shall gold and silver rejoice, and Summer and Winter be one.”

Jon’s hand closed tightly around the maester’s. “Please do not speak in riddles, you know I am no good with words,” the King begged, “please, tell me - is there hope?”

But the maester’s eyes were no longer seeking the ceiling. They had stopped moving altogether, and so had his heart.

It was the first death that winter would come to claim at Winterfell.

At first, the dead were a few. The men of Winterfell easily outnumbered the creatures as they approached the castle, and their bodies were slain and returned to peace once more.

However it was as maester Aemon had warned; common blade did nothing to stop them, and only hours after they had been killed, their bodies rose once more to approach the castle walls. They attempted arrows, but the men rose once more. They attempted fire, but from the smouldering heat the dead men rose again. Nothing could stop them, and as the days passed by, a few became tens, and tens became hundreds, and soon the men called to their King:

“They are too many. They will break down the gate!”

The King stood on the walls and he saw that it was so. The dead outnumbered the living, and with every man he lost, they gained another soldier for their army.

“It is a losing battle,” Ser Davos spoke. “It matters not how many swords we brought from King’s Landing. These men cannot be killed.”

“What choice do we have but to fight?” asked the King.

“We need dragon fire,” spoke Ser Davos.

The King’s face grew dark at this statement. “Aye, that I know, but we have none. It is as maester Aemon said; the prophecy has come true.”

“What prophecy?”

“He said that darkness shall swallow the moon,” the King spoke and gestured toward the sky. It was so black that not even the light from the stars could manage to twinkle through. “And that mankind will turn on itself. Is this not what we are seeing? Men fighting their own?” He leaned over the edge of the wall as he looked down upon the scene before him.

There, far below them, the creatures were crawling atop one another, with no regard for themselves or their own. They were reaching and pulling and dragging at whatever their hands could get a hold of. They were trying to pull the wall apart, brick by brick.

“What more did the prophecy foretell?” Ser Davos asked.

The King continued gloomly: “That beasts shall rise from afar which these men have. Did they not journey all the way from the Wall? So it shall all end when Summer and Winter becomes one.”

“Summer and Winter, and Spring and Fall,” Ser Davos spoke, “it is all one to us now. There will be no more day and night, and no more light and dark, and no more warm and cold. This shall be all that is left for mankind.”

“But mankind itself shall not even be left,” the King spoke and turned. His cloak fluttered behind him as he walked the steps down to the courtyard, drawing his sword Longclaw as he strode ahead. There, around a bonfire, the last of his men stood. In an attempt to slow the army beyond the gate, they were burning the bodies of their fallen friends, and to the ashes that rose from the flames, they said their last goodbyes.

Behind them, Jon noted, the gate was bulging. The dead were piled atop one another, trying to use sheer weight to bring it down. He stepped in front of his men, his back turned to them and his sword at his front, as he spoke:

“Men, you named me King. It is an honour you bestowed on me. I have no royal blood, and no claim to any house, but in me you saw a leader, and I have strived to lead with justice. Now, I shall repay your honour with the only thing I have left - my life. May the Gods, both old and new, have mercy on us tonight. We shall not fall without a fight.”

With that, the gate broke, and the dead entered Winterfell.

They came like a wave upon them, and as they threw themselves at Jon, he realised he did have one thing left; one last gift from the knapsack. So as the bodies piled on top of him, he used his last strength to reach into the bag. His fingers searched inside the leather, and it was only as he opened his hand in front of his eyes that he realised it was empty.

Four gifts he had been promised. Three he had used. Yet it seemed he had none left to claim.

It was in that instance that a wind broke out across the courtyard. As soon as the King thought he had no hope left, the dead were blown off him, and he found himself able to breathe once more.

Jon gasped in the cool air which had never felt sweeter, and he opened his eyes to what he thought was the sun rising above him. But the warm light was dragonfire; it ran in streams across the dark sky, and the wind was no wind at all, but the wave from a dragon’s wings.

The King hurried to his feet, and he watched in awe as the giant beast landed beside him, its black scales shimmering in the light from the bonfire. He glanced up across its thick body to the rider at its top.

There sat the Dragon Queen, clad in gold which shone like the sun itself. She looked down upon him, her violet eyes no longer like hard jewels, but soft like water.

“Your Grace, you came,” the King spoke in surprise.

“I did tell you that I believe in righteousness,” spoke the Queen. “I will fight evil where I see it.”

“Whatever did change your mind?” the King asked.

The Queen reached her hand out for him, and Jon grabbed it, climbing atop the giant beast until he was settled behind her. She placed her hand on his cheek, and he could feel the heat from her skin melting the sheen of ice on his face. “You did,” she spoke.

It was then two dragons passed them from above. One glimmered green, the other was as bright as ice. They circled the castle, their mouths breathing fire, and wherever their streams hit, the dead fell to never rise again.

The Queen smiled at the sight, and she grabbed a hold of the scales in front as she urged: “Hold on tight, Ice King, for you are about to witness the power of my children.” With that, the dragon took off from the ground, bashing its wings only twice to reach heights greater than Jon had ever been.

The King grabbed a hold of the Queen’s waist with one hand, careful not to lose hold of his sword in the other, and he watched the scene beneath them in awe;

All around Winterfell, the ice was aflame. Dead men were burning, and they turned to smouldering ash before his very eyes. The few who tried to flee were swiftly chased down by one of the Queen’s dragons, their fire inescapable.

“I cannot believe you came all this way,” the King spoke as the dragon circled the castle guided by the Queen.

“Did you not travel far to see me too?” she asked.

“I came to ask for your help,” he spoke, “but I had nothing to offer but a rose.”

“The blue winter bloom,” the Queen spoke. She looked over her shoulder at the King as she spoke: “You know not of the prophecy, do you?”

“I know the beasts from afar, for I have fought them myself.”

“You truly are misguided,” spoke the Queen with a smile. “The beast from afar are my dragons, for they have come to bring North and South together.”

It was only then that the King seemed to understand the words that the maester had spoken. He looked at the Queen’s golden garments, and then he raised his silver sword. Together, the two gleamed in the night. “Then shall gold and silver rejoice,” he spoke.

The Queen nodded: “And Summer and Winter be one.”

To celebrate the defeat of the dead, Winterfell held a feast. As the dragon fire died out, the first rays of sunlight pressed through the darkness, and soon the ice around them started to melt. Men and women from villages near and far came to Winterfell to thank their King for bringing an end to Winter, but before his people the King spoke:

“You honour me, but the honour is not mine to have. When all hope was lost and our future looked bleak, the Dragon Queen arrived to save us all. I ask of you - hold up your horns, and cheer for the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!” Hence the people held up their horns of mead, and they cheered the Queen on, for if their King said it was so, they knew it to be the truth.

As they sat side by side at the main table, the King turned to the Queen. “When I travelled to King’s Landing, the bards sung songs of you and your beauty. I will tell you this - they did not do you justice.”

The Queen raised her brows: “If you think you are the first to praise my looks, you shall be sorely disappointed.”

“Although you are a sight, it is not your beauty they did not do justice. It is you - your kindness, your strength, and your righteousness.”

At this, the Queen reddened, and she held the King’s hand gently. “Many men sought me for my looks, but left for my lack of womanhood. You sought me for my strengths, and left at my command. When you said you differed, you were right. I am sorry I did not believe you then.”

“Your womanhood is not tied to your womb,” the King spoke, “it is as you say; men want to leave a mark on this world. I too wish to leave my mark.” At this, the Queen wanted to withdraw her hand, but the King held it tight as he leaned in to whisper to her lips: “The mark I wish to leave it this: North and South as one, Summer and Winter as one, Warm and Cold as one, the King and the Queen as one. Peace and prosperity.”

“I gift you my swords,” he spoke, “for I wish no longer to fight. I gift you myself, for I wish no longer to rule alone. I wish to call you my Queen, if you will have me as your King.”

Hence the prophecy was fulfilled in a kiss between the Ice King and the Dragon Queen, and as spring claimed the lands around Winterfell, the two married under a weirwood tree.

At the wedding, the bards did not sing of beauty nor children but a song of love, and it went like this:

The King, the Queen Two souls in One The King, the Queen A love akin None

The King, the Queen Hearts beat Anew The King, the Queen Their love is True

The King, the Queen Now wait and See The King, the Queen Peace and Prosperity

---

Thank you to @dracoignisworld for this amazing fairytale. Hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did

[telesthisia]

“Dear my beloved hero, my dear friend, Link, Champion of Hylia... hello, are you well? I am uncertain whether or not this letter will reach you... perhaps courage will find me this time and I will not hide it away with the others but. 

I miss you. I hope that you are well... I hope that you are enjoying your adventures outside of Hyrule...”

ALRIGHT Y’ALL NOW IT’S MY TURN WITH DEPRESSED CRYPTID PRINCESSSSSSSSSSS!!! If you haven’t already might I suggest checking out Blue’s post about how her Zellie is a swole 172 cm aka 5′8″ GODDESS!!! It’s quite the read but as with all her headcanons, it’s a fun read so def check it out if you haven’t already. BUT LET’S DO THIS!! For this pose I went with a simple cute one with Zelda holding a letter that’s addressed to Link. She has two years worth of unsent letters all to him, while the penmanship is neat in all of them there’s a lot of crossed out sentences in each one before she folds it up and places it in a small box that she hides under the bed. The one she’s holding in her hands is the last one before giving up on ever contacting him and wishing him all the best on his journey. It hurts how the only time they could ever have that same connection is when darkness strikes her kingdom, believing that the happiest she ever was is that dream sequence she has with Link in the manga... for their connection was the strongest she’d ever felt. Lining up with the 90s comic bittersweet ending, she feels lonely now that Link is no longer by her side since their duties keep them apart, but she believes in the future and believes it’s best to move on. ;v; alright more things under cut because I tend to ramble!

Midway through drawing this, I realized that my notes on the draws wouldn’t be easy to read, so I’ll put all my messy thoughts on Zelda’s appearance after the events of Oracles and ALTTP! My post won’t be nice looking, I tend to get a bit distracted when excited, blame the ADD and super sorry for that!! Keep in mind that Zelda’s main verse canon is three years after the events of ALTTP and a year after Oracles!

This is more of an art thing if anything and part of the messy notes I can’t add, but Zelda has a petite-pear shaped body. The shoulders and back are smaller than the hips which are wider than her shoulders. It’s something I gotta keep in mind when doing full body draws aaaaa! But her rare blood disorder has affected her growth, which is why she’s tiny (5′0″ my dudes but she’s 5′0″ full of love for you) and so freaking pale too. The paleness of her skin is meant to show that she looks a bit on the sickly side. I try to give her kind looking eyes that are big and wide!! And dark blue in color!! She has a bit of a sleepy look to it to make them look more calm and gentle!! Sadly, she’s physically weak and doesn’t have the stamina or even the heart power (Without triggering a fainting spell) to go body building for that sweet eight pack. The complexion she has is blemish and scar free because when you rich you get only the best skin care..... aside from the freckles covering her face. Makeup does make it appear lighter but when Zelda’s not wearing her royal get up the only makeup she tends to wear is eyeshadow and the blue lipstick! So those freckles? They’re there for the world to see! They cover her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, her shoulders, and back!! Noble kids used to make fun of her for her freckles but Zelda found a way to refute their teasings by insisting that her freckles were from when children of the fae would give her small kisses for luck! Her ears a little longer than most Hylians, it comes with being from the royal family and yet another hint to her divine origins. 

She is almost never seen without the little tiara she wears when in commoner clothing, the one with the three stones hanging from it! In truth, it’s a gift given to her by the oracles and their colors correspond with the oracles rather than the goddesses, which is why she’s wearing it all the time as a means to remember them. She loves those girls :’) while the bracelet is the same one we see in ALTTP! That one is a bit of an important piece of jewelry. It was a present from her father on her sixth birthday, when exploring the stalls of a nearby town yet affected by the sudden onslaught of plagues and droughts, she’d been fascinated with it and her father bought it for her because how can you say no to baby Zel??? It’s a simple fool’s gold bracelet with no design to it and you can find it anywhere, really, but she loves and wears whenever she can when wearing commoner clothes. Sadly, the maids in charge of dressing her up in her stuffy royal dresses would never let her go around the castle wearing that due to how cheap it is. And finally, the earrings and pendant of courage... I’ve mentioned it before but she’s always wearing the pendant. It was given to her by Link before Link went away on his journey and since then it’s become an important symbolic thing where it gives her courage she lacks. Hence why she wishes to give it to the person she marries so that they too can feel the same courage. With the dress I’ve designed for her, it’s more noticeable, but sometimes she’ll wear it under her clothes if she feels it wouldn’t match her outfit! And the Triforce earrings? Her mother’s!! She’s never seen without them, that’s like seeing Bayonetta without her glasses with the earrings pft. 

So something that’s fun to point out is her shade of blonde! Originally, she had a more golden tone to her hair color, hence why the close up with her eyebrows the color is super darker than the blonde (I tend to color them black but that’s the actual color of them, only reason why I color them black is because I love the contrast with light hair and dark eyebrows ;w;) we see in this draw! So, why’s her hair lighter? Well, Zelda suffers from a little something called Marie Antoinette syndrome. What the hell is that??? You may ask yourself and it’s more or less where the hair turns white from extreme fear and shock, it’s used in the realm of fiction since irl something like that can’t really happen. Due to the various stresses, traumas, and extreme fear she’s endured by witnessing the death of her father, the priest and countless others as well as being kidnapped twice and being used for sacrifice one time and nearly a blood sacrifice to revive Ganon another... well, it affected her mentally giving her trauma and physically all that stress poorly affecting her already bad health. So, the lighter her hair, the more stress she’s been through and that’s probably why whenever you see me draw Zel you’ll see her with pale hair... (I kinda want to make it white because that’s peak Ambercore BUT PLATINUM BLONDE IS CLOSE ENOUGH WE GOTTA KEEP THE BLONDE!!!!!) As always, the hair floofs are very important to her design! It’s what makes her friend shaped!!! That said, I just think it’s a very cute design choice hence why I kept it here! Her hair is longer than in oracles and ALTTP, growing it out to her hips and just above the tailbone! It’s super long, there’s no meaning behind why she grew it out this much aside from failing to keep up with it due to how fast it grows. The public, naturally, believes differently and as common with the mindset of those times believe that she has long hair to show her status as a member of someone who comes from wealthy background. She’s a little hurt by this assumption, really, as it implies she does nothing but brushes it all day as well as showing off her status when it’s actually neither of those things. The floofs, shows that it’s a bit on the messy side as proof that she doesn’t do that at all... but instead spends her days exploring ruined places of decay and death! 

The dress she wears is one of her favorite ones, she has dark boots underneath that goes up to her shins because I think that’s peak character design. The dress is two layers!! The first being the blue overlay and the second a plain old white dress with the collar showing off her shoulders, the cut of the collar is almost reminiscent to nightgowns, the sleeves are short and poofy and in the back is a ribbon, no real reason for that aside from me thinking that’s cute. In truth, I based her outfit off of historical dresses worn in those times for commoners. Their clothes tend to be more simple and Zelda much prefers to wear the dresses of commoners than her silken royal gowns with the heavy gold regalia. Though the pink dress she wears in alttp (and SSBU) is for more important events such as when she was crowned as the next ruler for the throne, she also has a wide wardrobe of various dresses which I will be basing off of Tudor era and a little later in 17th century.... 

In short.... I tried to make her as friend shaped as possible. 

[curseburdened]

CHARACTER BASICS.

name: vera azra shafiq

nickname: v

age: twenty-nine

gender: cis woman

ethnicity: turkish

nationality: british

pronouns: she / her

education: hogwarts, private tutors

occupation: alchemist

hometown: york, england

current location: diagon alley

affiliation: pur societatis 

blood status: pureblood ( sacred twenty-eight )

CHARACTER APPEARANCE:

face claim: demet özdemir

height: 5′7

weight: 124 pounds

hair colour: black

eye colour: brown

dominant hand: right hand

distinguishing features:

scars across the palms of her hands from a potion accident while at hogwarts

MAGICAL EXTRAS.

patronus: king cobra snake

wand: eleven inches, ebony wood with phoenix feather core

boggart: the shafiq name being erased

hogwarts house: slytherin

amortentia: jasmine tea, cinnamon, and rain

PERSONALITY.

positive traits:

+charming +ambitious +elegant

negative traits:

-manipulative -stubborn -dishonest

goals/desires:

to marry into another family in the sacred twenty-eight

to establish her name in the history of he wizarding world

fears:

dishonor

poverty

mbti:

entj

hobbies:

embroidery, working on new formulas and concoctions 

habits:

pulls her hair up into a pony tail when she’s working

keeps lavender by her bedside at all times

signs her work as v if an unofficial document

FAMILY.

father: cato shafiq

mother: ada burke - shafiq

siblings:

two siblings

spouse:

callum astor (deceased)

aurelius medici (deceased)

seneca floutz (deceased)

HEADCANONS.

the shafiq family is a proud member of the sacred twenty-eight, however, their money has been running low over the generations. even the castle like home they share appears fine on the outside, though behind the extravagant decorations and proud smiles, the walls are crumbling and it is beginning to fall into disrepair.

while in hogwarts, her best subjects were transfiguration and potions, which made her later career choice of alchemy a wise endeavor. for vera, it was simply natural, she’d spent her whole life turning trash into gold, and now she would be paid for it.

HUSBANDS.

her first husband died within a month of sharing their wedding vows. it was an accident, a work accident in the line of duty as a dragon trainer. vera was shocked, even a little upset, but  she barely knew him, and certainly didn’t love him. once his estate was in order, vera ended up a rich widow at the age of eighteen, and she saw a way out of her obligation, until her parents took the opportunity to earn a second payout, and marry her off again.

with her second husband, it was a more personal affair. they’d been married for two years after a year long betrothal, and they had fallen into the routine of married life. he worked, she socialized, and did their duties. in her free time she worked on her pet projects, and supporting the cause any way she could. while she flourished in working in support of the pureblood cause, her husband faltered, which would have been enough of a reason to seek  a reason to remove her ring. the reason she finally acted was that she found out a secret: he was cheating on her with a muggle born healer he worked with, and she was pregnant. keeping her head high, she came up with a plan to deal with her adulterous husband, and after making him his evening tea, he went to sleep and simply never woke up. it was declared a natural death, and he’s buried in a private ceremony, with an obviously pregnant healer crying a few rows over. for the second time, at the age of twenty-two, vera took off a wedding ring, and took back her noble name, all the richer.

her third husband, seneca, he was just less fortunate. their marriage lasted the longest, just over three years. he was a nice enough man, never cheated, never argued against her beliefs, but he suffered a blood curse. he was dying a slow death, and his condition only grew worse by the day. healers could only keep him alive, but barely. they could have kept him alive, in agony and with the knowledge things would never get better, potentially for years confined to bed. she sacrificed her career, her passion for him, trying to do everything she could to comfort him, and yet, nothing worked, and she felt like she was living with corpse. so, one day, in frustration, she over did the drought she used to make him sleep, and ended his suffering once and for all. his funeral was bigger, and true tears were shed there by vera. this time she wore the ring longer, and kept his name longer, but inevitably, she again changed it back, and wondered once again when she would see another wedding. 

[my-rae]

303 |Lee Byounggon|

When Byounggon has a crush on his next-door neighbor and friend but doesn’t even know their name.

Words: 2.8K

Genre: fluff

Warning(s): an awkward neighbor! Au + mentions of alcohol + idk I just hope you like this kdjsk + stream movie star peeps!!

This is a part of a silver boys series I’m currently writing. Find the masterlist here!

Feedback is very appreciated!

“Pleeease.”

"No.”

“No.”

“Gonie, please.”

“Those puppy eyes don’t work with me, Seunghun.”

Seunghun rolled his eyes and pouted as he talked to his best friend.

“I can’t see why you don’t want to do it, there are only advantages! Look: we get some credits for our grade, we make friends, we-“

“We get less time to study, we look ridiculous since nobody would join and people from other clubs will make fun of us... Do I continue?”

That time, Seunghun frowned and gave his best friend a friendly punch on the shoulder. It had always been like that: Seunghun, the main dreamer; Byounggon, the realistic dreamer. It was obvious that Seunghun was going to be benefited by that stupid theatre club he wanted to create, after all, he majored in acting and he was basically raised inside a theatre. But for him? He’s majored in music, production of music to be accurate, how’s that going to help him apart from the credits?

“I’m not helping you this time, I’m sorry.”

That was a few months ago. Now, he finds himself with a notebook and list of the ones that are already inside the club.

“Bang Yedam and Kim Doyoung.” He reads out loud. “Why are some high schoolers joining the club? Isn’t it for college students only?”

“Haven’t you realized that the dance club began being only for students but some people of all ages ended up joining? It doesn’t really matter who joins, college students are the only ones getting some benefit though.” Seunghun explains and Byounggon nods, he is surprised at how his friend seems to be taking it seriously.

“Lee Midam.” He continues reading. “Noa Kazama, Kim Junkyu.”

“Our first member and dearest friend Jeon Woong.” Seunghun smiles fondly when he reads Woongs's name. He was the first person that joined and Seunghun will always be thankful to him. “And these two girls... Oh, let’s stop reading here.”

“Aren’t you like half dating one of them?”

“Shut up. She dropped, there’s only her friend in the club, I forgot to remove her name.” Byounggon decided not to comment anything else. After all, he seemed a bit down when talking about his girlfriend’s relationship with her friend. Byounggon didn’t know what happened, but he doesn’t know if he wants to know.

“Anyways, let’s keep this tomorrow okay? I think you have a class to plan and I have some things to do.”

“Okay friend.” Seunghun stood up from his bed, where he was sitting, and guided Byounggon to the front door to say goodbye properly, as he always did. Byounggon smiled at his friend and made his way to his apartment slowly.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s glad he has an apartment for his own. He won’t be able to become a real artist if he isn’t 100% focused on his music, and he doesn’t want to bother anyone with it, as well as he doesn’t want to be annoyed in that process. When he’s on his creative phase, he’s super energetic, but nobody is able to see it since he locks himself until he creates the song that matches his idea. After that, everything is happiness. However, when he’s going through a drought, is better not to talk to him until his mood is a bit better.

That’s probably another reason why he lives alone.

“Come on, Bx, you have this.” He tells himself. Right now he wishes he could write something, but with all the subjects to study, all the projects he has to create for class, and the fact that he is worried about Seunghun, he can’t really focus, and, as written before, he’s a bit unbearable.

He opens the door that guides to the balcony and he sits there on a chair while holding his guitar. He begins to play something, maybe that way, with the cold air of winter caressing him and with nobody to listen to him at sight, he can focus better. He tries, again, and again, and again, but fails to find something to inspire him to create a good track for his teacher. He begins to create a melody he likes but stops suddenly when something doesn’t match.

“Why did you stop?” He turns around to the sound of a very well known voice for him. He finds you sitting on a chair while having a cup of hot chocolate and your laptop in front of you. “I liked it.”

“I didn’t, that’s the problem.” He answers you.

Being honest, in spite of becoming unbearable when he has no inspiration, he wouldn’t talk to their neighbors like that, but he knows you well enough to talk to you openly.

“Are you going through another crisis, 301?” You ask the tall boy. He rolls his eyes, but when they meet yours, he knows he can’t lie to you.

“I am, I can’t really focus on my school projects because I have no inspiration and then I don’t know how to help my friend with the club I told you the other day.” 

You listen to him carefully, as you use to. This is how your dynamic works: you could be freezing out there in the balcony, or melting under the hot summer sun, but you have created a bait to talk about your life and give each other a piece of advice when needed.

Funny when you don’t even know each other’s names, you just name each other after the apartment you live in.

“What’s wrong with the club? It isn’t working?”

“It’s going better than expected, Seunghun is happy already, but I know he wants more, and I want to help.”

“301, I’m going to give you my honest opinion, as I have always done.” You say. Byounggon begins to draw simple figures on a piece of paper to avoid looking into your eyes. “I think that you shouldn’t overwork yourself. Focus on what’s important now, because I see you’re already pretty overwhelmed with all the assignments you have to do. Talk to your friend and try to find a way to promote the club! As a marketing student, I can give you an example of flyers to hang around or to spread but just do me a favor and don’t try to carry all the weight of the situation, okay?”

He thanks God he’s looking down because he can feel his cheeks burning up. That’s your effect, he always thinks his heart is about to explode every time he talks to you as you’re always making sure he’s fine and giving him the best pieces of advice ever. He does the same to you, yes, that’s what friends are about, but he doesn’t think about you as just friends.

“Once again you’re right, 303, I’ll try to listen to you, thank you.” You smile and look at the time.

“No problem 301, I’ll bring them tomorrow if you want to.” You focus on your laptop again and sigh, that’s when he knows you’ll be complaining. “I have to finish this for tomorrow but this is so long 301. I went outside to talk to you and get some fresh air, but I’m afraid this will take longer than I expected.” You shiver when you finish and hug yourself.

“Are you cold?’“ He asks.

“A bit, but my roommate has all the blankets because I told her I didn’t want them.” You shake your head, thinking how dumb were you when you let her take all of them.

“Take my hoodie.” He suddenly says. “I’m not really cold, you can take it for tonight if you want to.” At first, you didn’t want to take the poor boy’s hoodie because he would freeze, but he is a very persistent person, so you end up wrapped around his hoodie and smelling his cologne.

You will mark this night on your calendar because you don’t know how you’ve ended up sleeping with his hoodie on.

“Seunghun I’m cold.” The brown-haired boy tells his friend when they get into the giant room where they plan everything about their club. 

“Why didn’t you bring a hoodie? It's literally February, are you dumb?”

“I forgot I washed all my hoodies at the same time, and I lent 303 the only hoodie that isn’t wet.”

“You lent your crush your hoodie?” 

“I did.” Seunghun smiles at how Byounggon didn’t even try to deny the fact that you’re his crush. “Oh god, Seunghun I really lent them my hoodie!”

“Congratulations on realizing mate.” He teases his friend, knowing how embarrassed he is. “You’re a step closer, now all you have to do is to ask their name!”

“I will, someday.”

Seunghun shakes his head in disapproval.

“Make up an excuse and talk to them! Don’t be a coward!”

Byounggon rolls his eyes, but he knows his friend is right.

“They said they were going to help me with the promotion of the club and was going to give me some flyers to spread and stuff.”

“They’re so nice!” Seunghun has stars in his eyes. “Haven’t they helped us already giving you some ideas?”

“They have.” You were the one who helped to design the sign and also spread it around your university too, that’s how close you are to Byounggon.

“Of only you confessed Bex, if only you confessed.” Seunghun has the theory that you like him too, but Byounggon thinks he is completely wrong. You would have thrown a sign already, right?

“Nothing will happen if I confess. We have a special neighbors relationship, I’ve been the fool that caught feelings here, they have nothing to do.” Seunghun rolls his eyes, but decides not to mention the topic again, he knows his friend doesn’t like to talk about it.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. By the way, are you coming to Chan’s party?”

“I haven’t been told about any party.”

“Yes, it’s in two days, Friday night, Woong said it last night on our group chat.” Byounggon curses at himself for being so distracted, he should talk more on their group chat.

“I’m not sure, I'll tell you later."

He saw it clear Thursday night when he got home. He began working on songs and lyrics that didn’t satisfy them as much as he would like to. Besides, you said you were going to show up, but you didn’t appear that night.

“What a shame.” He thought to himself. “I really wanted to talk to them today.” It’s the main disadvantage of not being completely close.

To: Pompompurin

So, party tonigh?

He sent the message to his friend before going to the university and his answer didn’t take long to come.

Pompompurin(4)

I can’t believe we’re going to a party.

FinaLLY.

I was feeling bored already.

Hyunsuk will be there too!

He sighs, Hyunsuk is also one of his best friends, but he’s not the right person to party with right now, he knows it the moment his friend offers him a cup with more alcohol than soda to equilibrate it.

“What are you drinking, Hyunsuk?” He asks his friend right when he comes into the party as he takes the cup from him so that he doesn’t drink much more. He has heard from Seunghun that he’s having some difficulties in his relationship and apparently the only thing he does now is going to parties.

“S fine friend.” Hyunsuk answers as he slur words.

He ends up drinking two more cups to prevent his friend from drinking that much, but he forgets that his tolerance to alcohol isn’t as good as Seunghun’s or Woong’s, so we can say he’s not drunk, but maybe a bit tipsy.

“I’m bored.” He tells Seunghun. “I don’t want to drink more from Hyunsuk’s cups, he’ll end up making a cocktail out of the water inside the vases.”

Seunghun laughs.

“Wait here, I’ll go pick up my coat and we’ll leave in a few minutes, okay?” But Seunghun shouldn’t have trusted a tipsy, bored Byounggon. He’s never an irresponsible person, but he becomes one when he’s in that state. 

Byounggon ignores Seunghun’s calls, who thought he was still inside the party and was looking for him like crazy. On his way home, he thought of something he could do now that he could blame it on the alcohol, so instead of opening his door to come into his lonely apartment, he knocked at your door.

“301? What are you doing here?” You ask sleepily.

“Hi 303, I thought I’ll see you yesterday.” He says casually.

“Are you drunk?”

“Just tipsy.” You have only seen your neighbor drunk once, and the only difference was the strong scent of alcohol and that he was more flirty than usual. You know it’s bad to listen to drunk people, but when that night he opened his front door for you to come into his apartment and literally begged you to put him to sleep as he explained to you his life detail by detail, you could feel your heart warming up.

You know everything about Byounggon, but he forgot you know the following morning. You guess he thought it was his friend Seunghun and that’s why he asked no questions.

“Just tipsy? Are you sure?”

“Stop teasing mee.” He complains and laughs it off. “No, seriously, I’m perfectly fine, just more confident than usual.”

“That’s good. Do you want to come in?” You don’t know why you’ve asked him that, the boy you are absolutely crazy for? Half drunk? At your house? Without your roommate to be seen? Dangerous.

“I actually do. Someone told me they were going to show me some flyers, but didn’t appear yesterday.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“I missed you. I have been so worn out, I needed your light.” You feel your heart sinking and you have to remind yourself that he’s drunk.

“Okay, let me show you the flyers.” You do what you’re the best at, running away to calm your stupid heart down. You come back with a huge variety of flyers with colors and shapes and take a seat on the couch. He decides to follow your example, but he’s closer than you expected

He looks at the flyers amazed and you begin to rant about this one and that one and their stories behind. At some point, his eyes are not on the pieces of paper anymore, and they’re completely focused on you.

“Do I have something on my face?” You ask him when you realize.

He shakes his head.

“You’re just very cute, 303.”

“Oh shut up.” You try to ignore his compliments, knowing he has a flirty personality when drunk.

“You are cute, but I’m tired of this.” Your heart stops.

“You’re drunk 301, let’s talk when you’re sober, okay?”

“I already told you, I’m not drunk, just braver than usual. That’s why I finally have the guts to say that I have like a huge crush on you.” You are completely shocked to say the least. Did you hear it right?

“Like a huge crush on me?” It is all that you can say.

“Okay, actually I really like you but it’s weird I mean, I don’t even know your name.” The fact that the Byounggon you use to know becomes a little child when he’s nervous and with alcohol in his system hits you when you realize he’s both, nervous and drunk, at this moment.

And, as you are nervous too, the only thing you can do is laugh it off.

“Don’t laugh at me!” He pouts. “I knew I shouldn’t have drunk to say this, I should have guessed that you weren't going to take me seriously.”

“You drank so you could confess?”

“At first that wasn’t my purpose but let’s say it ended up like that, yes.”

“God, you’re an idiot.”

“I know, I know, let’s not bring me down even more, okay?” You then realize that this is the moment, you must say what you feel now.

“Does the fact that I love you back makes you feel a bit better?” You ask the question smoothly, almost as if it wasn’t something that concerned you, but the truth is you were even more nervous than him.

Everything fades away when he smiles widely, happily. Your heart skips a beat, he’s defenitely the closest person to perfection in your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I’ll let you kiss me tomorrow, if you remember everything that has happened this night.”

“How can I let you know? Do you want me to kiss you right when I see you tomorrow?” The way he says it makes you blush, how can he take it like that when you still haven’t recovered?

“Please no! I’ll be so embarrassed.”

“Then what?”

“Call me by my name.”

“And what’s your name?” He asks, approaching you dangerously.

“Y/n.”

“Sounds nice.” He’s still getting closer and closer, but you don’t feel the need to move away. “You’ll always be my 303, though.”

You may or may not have finally kissed more than once that night. 

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Eden

Park Jimin/Reader [F]

Genre: God AU, romance, angst, royal-ish au

Warning(s)?!: imprisonment, torture, violence, toxic royalty [Rated: T]

Words: 24k 

----

The God of Eden- Ventus- vanished decades ago.  His kingdom fell prey to Senri, the neighboring God to fill the seat of the Ventus.  Famine, corruption, and destruction were eating away at His home.  Just where did He disappear to? Why did He abandon his people? Or rather, a better question, who took Him and what can you do to get Him back to his rightful kingdom? 

It was just as it normally was in Kiah.  Working at the palace, many a folk knew of the palace grounds jabbering and if you were lucky enough, you could hear quite a few words passed around of how the castle town was fairing. The separation between the palace and castle town was vast- like two different solar bodies. However, almost always the result in hearing about the outside’s state would make your throat burn.  The castle town never seemed to be thriving, acting more as a ghost town than anything more.  

Kiah- the kingdom in which you lived and worked.  Working as a metal worker inside the palace walls, you were tasked with many objectives.  From welding to locksmithing, it was your job.  However, not every day brings metal work.  Some days you are tasked as a simple maid, waiting on the corrupt wealth that resided in the castle.  The family that had been chosen many eras ago by Senri.

Senri: the main deity of Kiah.  Kiahan Castle resided directly beside the Temple of Senri.  Senri- as legend says- use to co-rule over two kingdoms together with another God.  However, it is said that one God had gone back on his word and betrayed Senri, so the kingdom of one split down the center into two.

That other kingdom was known as Eden.  The kingdom without a God.  Ventus- the God of Eden- had vanished decades ago.  Prophets and worshippers of all kinds all pushed out pleas to have their God returned, but all those pleas fell on deaf ears.  For Ventus never returned.  In his place, Senri stepped up and ruled over Eden with an iron grip. Taking the spoils of a lost war and claiming the ruined grounds of the kingdom lost to deities.

The two went hand in hand.  Ventus of the moon and the wind.  Silver and night were his and his alone while Senri was known for his control of the sun and the clouds. When Ventus disappeared, so too did the sun.  Senri, though his domain was the sun itself, dismissed the sun and clouded the kingdoms in an everlasting overcast.  Though the titles are vague, the powers the two God’s held were inconceivable.

Senri was merciless. Once again gaining the power to conquer and rule two kingdoms as one and move the people like pawns on a chess board.  Senri cared not for the people who are forced to be called his.  All he cared for was making it impossible for Ventus to ever return.

You hated this kingdom.  Working in this palace, in Kiahan Palace with the royal family acting solely as Senri’s obedient lap dogs.  Part of you wished that Ventus would return to Eden someday, and an even bigger part of you wanted to join that kingdom if he ever did.

You often heard tales that Eden was once a prosperous, golden land. Fields of gold wheat, droughts were non-existent, famine was limited and killed far less than now.  Crops and food were never lacking, always fruitful and harvest season was always a goldmine for the people.  It was peaceful without feud.  This blissful time was referred to as the era of the Garden of Eden.  A place for all to be free and live easily.

However, when Ventus disappeared, that Garden turned cold and baren.  Wheat wilted, crops died, livestock froze in icy tundras and whirlwinds of terrible storms plagued the lands.  Ventus was once named the God of Storms, so perhaps he simply left his people and were punishing them for some unknown sin.  However, there would be no evidence to support a sin had been committed.  Ventus just stopped existing, completely gone with no trace to follow.

You were wandering around the castle, it was late afternoon, the faded glow of clouded evening covered the atmosphere.  The sky outside the tall window panes of the castle walls were a grey gradient that faded into a deep navy.  Daytime without having a sun retiring for yet another night beyond the horizon.  

Senri was- ironically- never fond of the sun.  Days in Kiah were always cloudy, overcast with the tiniest sliver of the light being a blessing. You wished one day you would get to see the sunrise or even watch the sun disappear with the most beautiful array of colors.  Though, it was all wishful thinking.  You had long given up hope that you would ever witness anything that once was; anything the legends spoke of were simply a fool's dream.  The events and sights explained and painted in books were lost to you as a simple daydream.

You stood and watched the fading sky for a moment longer, wanting to stay in the moment.  However, you knew the world would continue forward, thus so should you. You hiked the basket of scrap metal and broken locks you held further up to your chest as your arms held it and continued once more down the halls.  Your destination is the west hall: the servant’s quarters.

The castle was old. However, age didn’t appear to be an issue when it came to the looks of the interior.  It was a grand castle.  Golds of all shades and not a spec of silver to be seen.  Gold was the color of Senri, while silver was used to represent Ventus.  It was practically banned from the kingdom.  Even the Knights' chainmail were copper stained.  

The halls were tall, wide and grand, columns of masterful architecture sculpted from top to bottom to support the ever heavy castle.  The tiled floors were spotless, without a nick or scratch and could be used as a mirror if one so desired.  The walls were never bare, always with a painting, a tapestry, blade rack, shield and weapon or window. Small torches remained unlit during the day time- if you could call the overcast day- along the lower walls and a lucky servant would light each and everyone come nightfall.

Your boots clinked on the floors, echoing in an almost eerie fashion.  Dressed in black trousers and an equally dark tunic covering your chest.  Your hands were covered in your fingerless, work gloves so your palms wouldn’t become raw, dry or torn from work.  Your turtle-necked tunic covered your throat as your hair was down, having undone it from its tied state once your work was finished for the day.

You weaved around the castle halls you knew like the back of your hand until you shuffled to a stop in front of your door. As you were employed by the castle’s royal family, you were under strict orders to remain in the castle for ease of access if you are summoned.  It basically eliminates the chance of you never showing if summoned.  If one was hired by the family, they practically shoved you in the cage known as the Kiahan Palace.  

Shifting your basket to your hip with one arm supporting it, you unlocked your door with the key you removed from your neck.  You didn’t trust anyone in the castle as far as you could throw them. Locking your room was one of the only things you could be in control of. Once you heard the click of the lock unlatch as well as felt the give from the key, you pulled the key out, squeezed it in your palm and opened the door.

Kicking it shut behind you, you placed your basket on the small table you keep right inside your doorway to the direct right and did not hesitate to relock your door.  Sighing with relief in privacy at long last, you turned and placed your back on your door before you slid down it.  Your rear hit the wooden floor that wasn’t nearly as nice as the corridor’s tile as you closed your eyes and allowed yourself a minuscule rest.

“Finally,” you breathed.  

Your room wasn’t the worst in the kingdom; however, it was nothing compared to the royal halls and what you guess the royal family’s rooms may appear to be.  However, it was enough for you.  

A queen bed was placed in the far back of your room, the headboard against the wall with both sides and the foot of the bed open to climb into it.  A rug of faded crimson lay under your bed frame as the room itself was of a hardwood flooring.  Off to the left of your room was the bathroom that had come with it.  A tub and shower with a small sink, dinky mirror and toilet lay beyond that door.  In the main room, you had a large wardrobe with your clothes, tunics, and weaponry placed safely inside.  A trunk sat at the foot of your bed, locked so none may snoop inside.

Finally, a desk sat under the large, west side window of your room.  Your window was grand, low sitting- only a foot or two off the ground- as it traveled far up your wall and wide enough to open it outwards.  The window split down the center, two handles in the middle of the metal panes and a single lock beneath.  A small flower bed sat beneath the outside of the window; however, you had long since removed any and all soil and replaced it with stones and gravel.  Any hopes of growing any sort of flower on your own was a dead hope, you were far too busy and forgetful to care for a plant.

Small, three-pronged metal hooves for torches graced each wall for whatever light fire could put when the torches were lit. Creation dancing shadows of each direction and length in the flames. 

Kicking off your boots, you pushed yourself back to your feet.  Traveling to your bathroom, you tied your hair back, pushing it away from your face as you turn the cold water from your sink on and splashed your face.  You did this two or three times before you felt satisfied and turned the water back off, as you leaned against your sink.  

Your hands clung to the edges of the porcelain bowl as you kept your face downcast, the water dripping off your chin and the tip of your nose.  Rolling from your forehead and clinging to your eyelashes.

Today in Kiah was just like every other day.  Waking up at the crack of dawn, taking a quick shower, dressing in your tunic and heading out with a basket filled with scrap metal and proper locks to replace the old broken ones.  Only to replace the broken scattering of metal waiting for you throughout the castle grounds.

It was a bland cycle of repetition, one you wished would change.

You wiped your face dry with a towel that hung over the sink’s side and exited the bathroom before you peeled off your tunic.  Throwing it at your feet, you walked barechested to your wardrobe that you opened and pulled out a comfortable nightshirt.  

It was a shirt that was far too big for you.  You pulled it over your head as you shed away your pants.  The shirt hung to conceal the rim of your underwear as the three buttons at the top of the shirt remained unbuttoned and low on your chest. The shirt had cuffs at the sleeves, yet you kept those unbuttoned as well for maximum comfort. This was your favorite shirt.  It belonged to your father before he passed.  

Padding your bare feet along the wood of your floor, you took the basket that still sat unmoved on your door side table and carried it across the room to your desk. Taking the stool that sat beneath the wooden surface, you took a seat and started picking out the metal, piece by piece.  

Grouping was a very important thing when it came to your work.  You’d group metals by how they were broken, or by size, or even by its components.  Isolating iron from bronze and copper. After that, they were broken down into what they are- or used to be before they were broken.  If you deduced that, you could match together pieces here and there to create a blueprint of sorts.  After all that is finished, with plans of remaking and fixing what is broken, you’d place the parts that go together into a cloth bag with instructions on what to do tomorrow and place it all back into the basket.  The outliers of scrap metal brushed into the top drawer of your desk for another puzzle another time.

It was late by the time you finished.  Placing the basket back at your door side table, you stood in front of your door.  It was forbidden for servants to leave their quarters beyond the chiming hour of nightfall, and yet it was soon approaching the devil’s time.

Looking at the ticking clock of wood and iron on your wall, you watched the hands tick slowly, inching closer to 3am.  You sighed as you held your stomach.  You were stealthy enough to sneak into the kitchen, right?  You steeled yourself as you unlocked your door as quietly as you could, grabbing the key to loop around your neck and soon stepped out into the halls.  

The castle was disturbing and soulless enough during the day time, but the night brings out the true nature of the word horrifying.  The torches crackled with fire and shadows danced along the busy walls.  The silence would make a small rodent tampering along the floors seem as loud as a war drum.  Your bare feet felt chilled on the tile floor.  You breathed in, if you got caught by some unforeseen guard, you’d just play like you were sleepwalking.

Surely they would buy that excuse, right?

You stuck close to the walls, running to hide in the shadows and avoiding the flames of the torches that were easily eye level.  The short trip to the kitchen felt like a treacherous odyssey as you ducked and avoided guards, listening out for heavy clunking of boots and the jingling of chainmail.

You were tiptoeing down the hall when the guard you were quietly tailing from a decent distance when he suddenly stopped. Your breath hitched as you pressed yourself against the wall as much as you could.  The tapestry behind your back folding with wrinkles as you clutched its floor-brushing fabric in your palm.  You pressed the back of your head against the wall expecting to hit the marble wall behind you, but in fact, it didn’t hit the smooth of the marble wall. No, not at all.  

Uncurling your fingers from the tapestry, you moved your hand to go behind it and lightly knock on the wall.  What was behind you wasn’t marble, but sounded and felt like wood?  You watched as the guard soon walked off and you used the limited light from a nearby torch as you looked behind the hanging cloth.  A door lay behind it.  

The journey to the kitchen was forgotten the moment you found the hidden door. Looking to your sides, you listened and watched to make sure the coast was clear of any patrolling guards.  Testing the door handle that lacked a lock, you were shocked to see it turn down completely and allow the door crack open when you offered the tiniest of pushes.  Looking both directions once again and analyzing what was happening once more through your mind, you quickly slid under the tapestry and through the door, clicking it quietly shut behind you.

The corridor you had found yourself in smelt of must and moisture.  The air was thick and stagnant, like a hot humid day confined into a small space. You pulled and flapped the front of your shirt as you breathed heavily in the thick air.  Figuring you had nowhere else to go, you proceeded forward.

It was pitch black dark. You kept one hand on the wall to your right as you followed it in a straight line, only taking small curves every now and again.  It was a pretty straight shot forward into the darkness.  The small dim light from under the door you went through was long gone as you were swallowed by thick, damp dark air.

The ground became much rockier as you proceed with each step.  What you presumed were once tiles were broken and kicked up, your bare toes kicking them and feet stepping on them, making you wince well more than once.  Stepping slowly- carefully- with your hand guiding you, you soon ran into another door.  You don’t know how long you were in that corridor, or where ever you were, but you’ve come this far.  

Trying the new door, it pushed open, though with more force needed that the first.  The door was rusted, wood old and decayed as the metal on it was tough and loud as it squeaked.  Peeking through it, you were met with light again.  This time, you were led to a spiral stone staircase descending further down.  You never remembered a level below the castle existing before.  Though it was very well plausible that you weren’t even on the castle grounds anymore with how far you’ve walked. Small torches- far smaller than the ones in the castle halls- sat in iron sconces.  Taking one off the wall for possible future sight problems, you pushed the heavy, creaking door closed behind you.  

Your shirt clad covered body shivered.  The damp air turned chilly as you slowly took careful steps downwards.  The stairs were stone and aged well beyond a generation or two.  Corners and edges were chipped and certain portions of steps were worn away from what you guessed was previous use.  You wondered if this passageway lead to somewhere particular, or if it is still used? What would you find at the end? 

A small lump formed in your throat at the thought of this passage to nowhere still being used and the newly arriving fear of possibly running into someone.  If that happened, you would have absolutely no excuse for your snooping.  You’d be thrown out of the castle, or if this was a far too extensive crime, more than likely spat at by Senri himself followed by the punishment of execution by guillotine.

The descent down felt agonizingly long.  Part of you thought you were going to end up at the core of the planet if you kept going much further.  However, not much longer you were at the bottom.  Standing on a stone landing, walls all around you with only one other possible direction to choose to go other than back.  Through the single door that stood in front of you.  

Placing your torch into a vacant sconce, you inspected the door.

It was in better shape than the one at the top of the staircase.  The wood seemed well taken care of, despite the damp atmosphere of the lower tier of- wherever you were. The metal that welded the door to the metal frame was strong and sturdy and in no need of any repair anytime soon unless a wrecking ball should somehow crash into it.  There was a small metal slit in the door at eye level.  Taking the handle that stuck off of it, you slid it to the left, opened the window and peeked inside.  

It was dark, you could hardly make out a single detail on what may be inside.  For all you knew this was just a vacant room. Empty and lost to time.  With the window still open, you looked down at the door handle.  A single metal ring that you simply pull on to unlatch the door.  With a curious mind, you grasped it, the metal chilling your skin and tugged. The door lurched at your motion.  It seemed to be able to open with ease; much to your shock.

Abandoning the window, you grasped the ring with both hands and tugged.  Your feet stepping backward as the door opened further and further. The bottom of the door chasing your defenseless toes. Once the door was open enough for you to slip inside, you peeked in once again, leaning your torso only half way in.  

The light the stairway allowed only lit a small portion of the room before the firelight faded into the complete darkness of this room.

The air felt tight and compressed.  The room was small, you were certain of that. A small grate was at the very top of the ceiling of the room, you could only assume it lead to somewhere outside where it lay in the ground.  Perhaps this was a room for water drainage?  That would certainly explain the dampness. You were nearly content with that conclusion, that is until you hear scuffling bounce off the stone walls.

There was something in this room.  

It was a rat, that was the most probable of choices.  Rodents were bound to be found in a place like this, it was second hand thinking that even a child knew.  Taking a shaky breath, you grabbed your torch once more from it’s sconce and slowly stepped into the room.  

Small puddles rippled and splashed with your footsteps from the last heavy rain that no doubt drained into the room from the grate above.  Soon though, your hip ran into the edge of an old, worn out table.  Hissing, you rubbed your skin, lifting your shirt to see the red skin of your waist.  Finally, looking at the table itself, you sucked in a breath, covering your mouth with your free hand.

Anything from knives to whips lay on the table top.  An ax, knives of all shapes and sizes, whips of leather and of spiked tips.  You felt sick looking at them.

You dropped your torch, the fire extinguishing in a puddle as you took several steps backward.  Your stomach churned and flipped. You heard the shuffling again, like something moving around behind you.

Turning around with an impressive whirl, you fell to your rear with a shaken shout.  

Tonight must’ve been a night that Senri wanted to view the moon, casting the clouds aside.  That would be the only explanation as to why the moonlight shone through the grate above your head and lit the room with a brilliant, soft blue light.  Showing you where you were, what was in the room, your discarded torch and the man tied up against the back wall.  

“Oh, Gods,” you gasped in heavy breaths.  Breathing shouldn’t be this hard right? Just, in and out, right?  Yet, there you sat, on your ass, hands braced behind you as you stared at the moonlit boy having the hardest time breathing in your life.  You mentally walked yourself through the breathing process as your breath left you and seemed to never return. Breathing in felt like gulping water.

The man before you hunched over as he rested on his knees.  His hands and hands were restrained by mere fabric by the looks of it.  Pure white sheets wrapped around his wrists, tangled around his elbows and under his underarms.  His ankles, however, had chains around them, though they were of a material you’ve never seen.  

The shackles seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, shining so beautifully like the moon itself was trapped inside. Only now you realized that the shackles were made of pure silver.  On the clasp of the shackle was a scripture in a language you couldn’t read.  You hardly recognized it.  The encryption almost seemed to pulse, glowing off and on with the light of the moon.

Looking at the fabric confinements once more, they hung from the ceiling, held up and drilled into the stone walls and ceiling with the same pure silver material. You brought your sights back down to finally look at the man himself.

His hair was as white as the moon.  A shining silver from root to tip.  A mask was placed over the entirety of his face.  Pure white with golden designs around the eyes in the shape of a beautiful butterfly from temple to temple across the mask’s face.

He wore a white collared shirt, torn and stained with black harnesses hooked over his shoulders and wrapped around his waist.  Black, snug pants hugged his legs.  Straining against his thighs and the holes in the knees were frayed and obviously created at the number of times he’s probably dragged them across the stone floor.  He wore boots on his feet, though they were aged, scuffed and you could faintly see the sole of the boot detach from the cover.

His frame was lithe, slim yet as he hung and draped against his restraints, his arms raised, you could catch the faintest glimpse of his stomach, hard and muscular and his arms and shoulders crinkled his shirt as it pushed against his chest.  He was nowhere lacking in the muscular department so it seemed.  

Then the questions came.

Who was this man?  Why was he here?  How long has he been down here?  Has he been getting whipped? Cut? Completely tortured beneath the surface of wherever you were wondered to?  You found yourself internally fighting over the decision to move closer to him or to run out of the small room that appears to be his dungeon cell.

You quickly stood up and took to pacing back and forth; as if rambling and panicking to yourself would actually get you anywhere.  As you ran your fingers relentlessly through your hair, your nonstop mumbles and quick steps in puddles and kicking loose peebles had woken the masked man up.

With a groan and a twitch from him, you quickly shut up with a small yelp and moved far too quickly back against the wall.  Falling against it, you braced your hands at your side behind you as you watched the masked man move ever so slightly.

His motions, although slow, were smooth.  Like a steady flow of water into a calm stream. His body twitched and seemed to jolt and pop into place as he moved to stand tall on his knees instead of slumped over like he previously was.

Raising his masked face, his body remained unmoving.  You don’t know what was more frightening.  The lack of movement from him as he was now looking directly towards your figure against the wall.  Or the fact that his mask hid his entire face, so you could see nothing besides that golden butterfly across his eyes, sitting on a sea of white.  

For some reason the air around this man made you freeze.  His consciousness as well as his awareness of your presence sent shivers down your spine and caused your knees to tremble. You’ve never seen this man before in your life, but somewhere in your very core said something about him, you felt something you couldn’t name.  Something that just wasn’t quite right.  Something strong-- sinister maybe?  

Something ungodly.

“I have never seen you before,” his voice wasn’t what you were expecting.  It was smooth, if not a little rusty.  It wasn’t too low, nor too high.  It was a voice that- despite your shaking frame- could almost calm you. You jumped, not actually expecting him to speak first- let alone at. 

“I- well I-,” you cursed yourself for being unable to form a proper sentence; how embarrassing.  You closed your mouth, pushing your dry lips together and swallowing.  Letting out a puff of air, you tried once more.  “I was… wandering around the castle and I just… ended up here.” Your voice, small to begin with, nearly vanished as you spoke.  You felt so small, and you weren’t even the one restrained in this room.

“You are of this kingdom?” He spoke again.  You figured that he wouldn’t want to converse with you, especially since you were the stranger who accidentally discovered something you obviously were never supposed to.

“I- I am,” you spoke with a fragment of a question.  It caught his ear.

“You question your homeland?”

“I-,” you hated this kingdom and its god.  However, could you really be open about that to this man?  You didn’t even know who he was!

“Do not lie to me,” his voice became gruff, almost like he could hear you were doubting your instincts to reply back truthfully or not.  Your stilled as you curled your hand, nail to your palm and pinching your bare leg every now and again to remind yourself that this was no dream. “Kiahan; you are or you are not.”  The question had left him roughly as he demanded a response.

“I am,” you lowly replied in truth.  He let out a sigh as he hung his head, his mask tilting down, the golden butterfly out of view now hidden in the shadow of his hanging head. He didn’t seem to be dangerous, though that may be a crafty facade for all you knew.  Though, with the restraints, he holds no real harm at the moment.  So, the curiosity in your gut was safe to be released you concluded. Perhaps he could answer the questions you so desperately want answers to.

“If I may be so bold,” the man spoke before you could even open your mouth to start speaking.  “I’m not fond of those who ask many questions, so may I ask you to keep them to a minimum?” He did it again!  It was like he knew what you were going to do before you truly did it!  What? Is this man good at reading body language or something?  A small chuckle left his mouth as he shook his head, raising back up ever so slightly.

“Alright,” you quietly responded.  You twirled and spun the questions in your head like a carousel, picking what questions would take precedence over another.  “How many will you answer?” You asked.  

“Oh, you still wish to ask them?” He sounded almost impressed.  

“I do,” the first sentence of yours to come out strong-willed. It made the man before you straighten his back and shift around.  His knees came out in front of him as he sat his rear completely on the ground, kicking his boot-clad feet out in front of him.  His arms that were raised in a slight slack were now completely above his hand, white silks pulling on his wrists and arms.  He leaned back against the wall as the center ceiling grate kept a steady flow of moonlight flooding the room.

“Three,” he answered and you could hear the smirk on his face.  

“Three,” you repeated quietly to yourself.  Soon, you were nodding to yourself, seemingly coming to a conclusion. “Alright, I’m ready to ask my questions.” He remained silent, your cue to proceed along with the interrogation.  “Where are we?”  

What a boring first question-- that was the first thought that ran through his head.  He looked up, peering through the eye slits of his mask to the moon threaded grate above him. 

“We’re in an underground cell created to hold me in solitary confinement presumably in complete secrecy.”  You opened your mouth but he spoke again. “Ah ah, careful little maid.  Asking me ‘why’ still counts as a question.”  You shut up as you then scowled.

“I am not a maid.  How dare you.”  His hands opened, fingers spreading into the air.

“Oh pardon me.  I didn’t think they let concubines of the royal family run around and snoop on their own.”

Opening your mouth in frustrated awe you were honestly insulted.  Who the hell did this man think he is?!  He’s the one tied and bound, not you so why is he talking down to you like you were the one who was in a compromising state!

“I’m a metal worker, thank you very much.  Ungrateful, bound men should really hold their tongue.”  The man only chuckled before it erupted into a laugh.  It was almost menacing, the way the sound of his laughter bounced off the walls and rolled into your ears, it seemed sinister.  Yet, also still amused.

“You must pardon me,” he repeated, still chuckling deeply to himself as he was slowly calming down.  “Alright, metal worker, my time is not free and yours is quite limited.  So hurry this process along if you would.”  He had some nerve.

“As you wish,” you gruffly muttered as your second question flew out of your mouth.  “Why are you here?”  The question seemed to muffle any further chuckling from him as the air grew cold.  It was strange that the air in the room seemed to be almost connected to him.  Like the atmosphere took the place of the man’s face you couldn’t see, telling you his expressions without being able to truly see them.

“There are many answers to your question, which one would you like to hear?”  You didn’t comprehend what he meant by that. Perhaps there were many ways to phrase his current position.  And perhaps one way was much crueler than the other.  You, however, were willing to hear anything to make this trip worth the risk and time.  

“I want the truth, if you would be so kind,” you stated.  

“Of course,” he tufted.  “You all always want the truth, even if you hear it though, there is no guarantee you would believe it all.”  You remained silent, unmoving and still resolved to hear the answer to your questions.  He sighed.  “I was… captured long ago.  Does that satisfy you?”

You looked down at the cold, damp stone floor.  You nodded.  It did, but it didn’t.  You couldn’t help but feel his answer was short.  He was being short with you, being truthful, yet not completely so.  There was more he was keeping from you, which you could not blame him for.  He was a stranger, you were a stranger, and he had no reason to open up to you. He could have lied to you, yet you felt in your gut that he didn’t.  

The man sat in his ever sitting position as he looked at you through his mask.  He hadn’t seen you before, as he’s stated he’s been confined and he was curious as to how you ended up here anyway.  Not even he knew where he was located precisely.  He knew the general area where his cell was held so mockingly, but the pinpoint location was completely unknown to him.  

He even scowled to himself.  You were someone in which he knew nothing about, he’s never seen or met you.  He had no need to even answer your questions, or even give you the time of night.  He could’ve just pretended to remain asleep, yet here he was.  Answering your questions- graciously giving you three- and answering them with the utmost of honesty.

He watched your body move slightly with a shiver in the cold, underground cell.  In quite the enticing array of clothing- or rather lack thereof.  A simple white shirt and undergarments along your hips were hardly enough to call clothing.  It’s been quite some time since he’s interacted with someone who didn’t intend to bring him harm.  You had him gnawing on his lip behind his mask.

“I get one last question,” you spoke as you twiddled with your thumbs.  Almost nervous like.  “I-,” you stopped but started once more immediately after steeling yourself. “I wish to know your name.”

His body stopped swaying ever so slightly in his fabric prison as he raised his head higher.  You couldn’t see his eyes beyond his mask, but you could feel his eyes piercing through you.  

“Come over here,” he demanded of you.  You don’t know why you found yourself absolutely obeying him. You picked yourself up off the ground as you staggered on your feet.  Your feet were sore and sure to have cuts along the bottoms from all the stone you’ve walked along to get to this point.  You felt as if a string was yanking on your chest, dragging you, begging you to go to him.

If you had to describe it, it was like he just placed a spell on you.  Your body felt like it was moving under strings like a puppet and only when you stood in front of him and dropped to your knees now face to face with his mask, were those strings severed from you. Even so close, you could not see his eyes through the mask’s dark slits.

As you knelt in front of him, he was able to search your eyes.  They were vastly different from the two men who often frequent his prison.  Their eyes were simple, flat and dull.  They held nothing and only ever sparked with ill intent when they bared a blade or tested a whip.  Yours though, yours were so human.

They were vast as he gazed at them through his mask.  The dark shadow of your eyes in this place did nothing to diminish their shine. The moon’s gaze added a cover of silver as he could see all your emotions, your thoughts, and dreams behind them- even your name he knew through them.  He was able to get such a clearer image of you through your eyes, even when he was sealed up so tight.  His powers which were suppressed weren’t completely at a zero after all.

“You wish to know my name?” He questioned from behind his mask.  You nodded at him.  “Remove the mask that conceals my face and I may allow you one question more.” Your arms rose with a smooth uncertainty.  You wanted to remove that mask, look this man in the eye and get his name to roll off his tongue.  Your trembling fingers slowly reach out and cup along the sides of the mask.  Your fingertips brushed against his hair and the side of his cheeks as you curled your fingers around the mask.  With a breath, you pulled the mask off his face and dropped it to the stone floor where the sound of it echoed into the moonlit room.

The man before you was just as beautiful- if not more so- then the moon itself.  Your hands hovered over his face where his mask used to be as you were lifted above his head on your straightened knees.  Your hair hung pasted your cheeks as you looked down at him and he looked up at you.  

He really didn’t know what he was thinking, asking you to remove his mask.  He no longer remembered what he looked like after all these years.  Perhaps he was the same, or perhaps not.  

The way you looked at him made him more and more curious with each ticking moment.  His eyes were that of a silver coin, shining and reflecting as a mirror would.  His skin flawless as the moonlight bounced off it.  He looked like he could be the child of a god and if he managed to say it, you would almost believe it.  This man was ethereal; beautiful was an understatement.

“Have I rendered you speechless,” the smirk on his face is something you had imagined when the mask was covering him.

“No-I,” you stumbled.  “I simply wasn’t expecting you to be as beautiful as you are,” you answered with an honest breath.  He could feel your breath on his forehead as you spoke and almost relished in the warmth it brought to his skin.  Even now, he knew his own to be cold as ice.

“You wished to know my name, did you not?” You only nodded as he pushed himself back up on tall knee.  He was now higher than you, swapping roles as he now looked down at you and your vastly emotional eyes.  “Jimin,” he told you. “You may call me that.”

He was almost ready to pry the final question he granted you out of your throat when something felt off.  His body moved towards yours on its own, hovering ever closer to you as your face was hovering close to his neck.  His arms fought against the restraints of the silk as he looked up at the grate.  Shifting his gaze, he looks at the door as it soon slammed shut with the narrowing of his eyes that shone with a soft glow for but a moment.

Pulling a small scream from your throat, you looked at the door before you looked back at Jimin, finding him already looking down at you.

“Replace my mask and you must leave.”  You wanted to protest, wanting to know why.  In reality, you knew you had to leave. You should’ve left ages ago, but he somehow kept you rooted. The aura he gave off was enough to keep you in that small chamber of stone. “Please, you must go.  This cell is not completely secret, someone had to put me here, and it is only a matter of time before they walk in through that door.”  

“But, my final question-”

“Y/n, please.” Your eyes widened.  How did he-?

“You knew my name?”  Jimin sucked in a breath.  Dammit, he slipped.  He hissed as he could detect someone at the very top of the long spiral stairs he knew the echo of far too well.  He tugged on his arms, hoping that even the smallest bit of slack could be offered to him. To no avail.

“Save your question, but please, go.  The grate above you is loose, climb to it and run.”  He instructed. You only nodded as you grabbed his mask from the ground and carefully slotted it back over his face. Slowly, you got off your knees, Jimin’s eyes following you under his mask as you ran around and grabbed the single chair in the far corner of the room and stood on your very toes to reach the metal grate just enough to lift it and push it to the side inch by inch.

When you were able to grip the outside terrain with your curled fingers, you felt it was all stone. You mentally sighed, stone being much easier to grip than what grass and mud would be.  Ready to hoist yourself up, Jimin stopped you for a brief moment.

“Do you truly not view Senri as your God?” His voice echoed as you looked down at him.  How did he know that?  You saw his head look to the door and you didn’t hesitate to lift yourself up, kicking the chair over in the jump from your force.  You clambered through the small hole and soon rolled yourself into the outside air.  The lack of dampness and open area was a nice change compared to the cell’s air.

Before you moved the grate back into its place, you peeked your head down into the room, your hair hanging from its place on your scalp and creating a dark waterfall.  You called down to Jimin as you offered him a small, upside down smile.  You don’t know why but perhaps a smile would make the next words you tell him believable.

“I do not view Senri as any God of mine.  I shall save that final question for another night. Do not forget.” Then, you disappeared, moving the grate back into place and he could hear your feet patter off to return to the castle.  He sighed as he looked down, dropping himself to his rear as he looked back up at the grate, the moonlight dimming as it became covered by clouds.  

Then, the door to his dungeon kicked open, a single man stood in the doorway.  One in which Jimin was far too familiar with.  A wicked sly grin grew under his mask as he kicked his head back against the stone wall like he’d been alone all night until now.  

“Ah, welcome back, Your Majesty.”  

When you managed to push the grate back into its slotted space in the small patch of stone, you quickly staggered to your feet and took off.  The ground around you was full of green grass and you were in the center or a maze of hedges. Cursing lightly, you prayed that you would even find your way out.  Yet, frustration set in as you quickly found yourself turned around more than once.  Passing the same statue at least 3 times over now.  You stopped as you looked around, biting the nail of your thumb.

Beyond the hedge maze was a building of which you couldn’t quite make out or identify from the back. The darkness of night didn’t help that fact either.  You decided to keep your eyes on the building.  Being methodical under the assumption that the exit must be at that building, you should be able to get out without too much further hassle.

Eventually, you did manage to weed yourself out of the grassy maze, but you wished it hadn’t taken as long as it did.  Quickly moving to the front of the building which aided your escape, you felt your breath leave your lungs like someone had just sucker punched your gut.  You instantly recognized the building from the front, dark out or not. You saw this building every day out of the back windows of the South Hall.

It was the Temple of Senri.  

The temple was strictly off limits to everyone besides the royal family.  It’s located directly behind the palace, beyond the stone gardens that only select caretakers are permitted to maintain. Sure enough, beyond that stone garden and past a small roll of grassy hills was the south poets' gate entrance into the palace.

Jimin was held in a cell beneath the temple that was connected to the palace via a hidden stone passage.  That can only mean he was captured by the royal family, right? The only ones who could possibly know about it and Jimin would be them.  The king, queen and the heir to the throne, the prince.  The only other possible person to even know the slightest knowledge about Jimin’s hostage situation was-

“Senri,” you whisper to yourself into the chilled night air.  The wind picked up as you soon grew anxious and shivered.  You shook your head. Turning from the temple, you ran.  Ran up the rolling hills of the backcourts, through the stone garden and back into the palace.  Traveling back through the halls, careful to be undetected once more you finally ran once again into the safety of your room as you clicked the lock shut behind you.

What was once a simple stealth mission for something to eat at the dead of night, turned into a mind-boggling puzzle that left you with gooseflesh and more questions.  That final question would have to be chosen wisely if you wanted a proper answer that even slightly sedated your burning curiosity.

That may be what shocked you the most out of every turn the evening offered you- your twisted curiosity. Maybe a smarter person would forget this ever happened, forget they met a man named Jimin under the Temple of Senri- a forbidden place for someone like you. However, even after everything so far, you were sure of only one thing.

You absolutely would sneak in to see Jimin again.

As you lingered in your room, it was hard to believe you even left it.  The palace was as quiet as before and the room was the same picture as it would be any other night.  The only evidence was the scratches on your feet and the erratic pulsing of your blood through your veins.

You were usually someone who would stick to a schedule.  Your life had been laid out in front of you ever since your father passed and you were placed in the castle.  Metalworking was the objective you were tasked with until you inevitably worked yourself to death one day.  Yet, with one glance into Jimin’s moon silver eyes, you wanted to take that hypothetical schedule and tear it to shreds.

Gazing at Jimin seemed to sever a link of chains that bound you to this palace. This royal tyranny.  This god. This kingdom.  Now, you have decided something else as you lay on your bed at an hour that was bound to leave you exhausted and possibly ill.

You wanted to free Jimin, even if you knew absolutely nothing about him or who he may be at the end of all of this. Even if he were some criminal who was bound to manipulate you, you simply felt like you had to free him.  You didn’t give yourself a choice. 

You didn’t sleep at all.  By the time a yawn came out of your mouth and you were ready to close your eyes, the birds began their ceaseless crying and the halls began to fill with footsteps of all varieties before harsh banging was shaking your door in its frame.

Dragging yourself out of bed, walking to the door to offer a weak, yet hefty bang back to the person on the other side you waddled your way into your bathroom for a shower.  If you took a bath, the probability of you falling asleep and drowning was way too risky.

You cleaned up your sore feet and layered them with two pairs of socks today.  It would be suffocating for your bottom limbs, but the extra cushion was sorely needed.  Dressed up in your tunic of a dim, quite ugly, yellow and black trousers you tugged on your boots and grabbed your basket of metal ready to weld the day away as your thoughts were muddled with Jimin and how you were going to manage seeing him again safely.  

As you left your room, your hair a damp tangled cascade on your back, you walked down the hall with the tapestry you knew Jimin’s secret door was behind.  It was practically killing you, the urge to rip the tapestry down and rush through the door clawing at your conscience.  Sure, the sun may not be out, but you wondered what Jimin would look like in a brighter light, even if just slightly. Though, the moon complimented him nicely.

You waltzed down the hall, basket on your hip as you remained expressionless as you did any other day.  You eventually made your way down into the kitchen, as per usual, ready to snag a small handful of fruits to throw into the basket with all your work for your throughout the day ‘meals’.  An apple, a vine of grapes, a small roll and as your mind reeled back to Jimin, you snagged a second apple as you quickly turned your back and left to your workspace.  

When you pushed open the wooden door of your ‘office’, you were greeted with the back of another worker of the castle you knew but didn’t converse with all too often.  He was a quiet fellow, not too much younger than yourself and kept to himself.  He would do maintenance and run around  the palace in circles like the royal families lapdog; and he would obey no matter the task assigned to him.  

When you walked in, he was stepping off a small, definitely unsafe, step ladder that lifted him to the low ceiling of your work room.  Wiping the brow of his forehead, he huffed as he looked at his handiwork, more so seeing if he needed to go back up right at this moment or if he was good to go for at least a little while now that you were here.  Your office space wasn’t exactly up to snuff like the rest of the castle.  

Your ceilings were weak, leaky and quite frankly a mud hut would be more efficient to work inside.  Though, you were a measly metal worker and posing an argument to have your work quarters either moved or renovated in its entirety would be far too much hassle for the snot-nosed royals.

After having patched the ceiling enough to his liking, he nodded before he snapped the step ladder up and carried it to shove it off into a corner where it always stayed when it’s not in use.  Wiping his hands on his already stained, no longer only white, trousers, he ran his forearm over his forehead once more.  It was also always unbelievably warm in your work room due to the dramatically large stones and ember fire pit that would soon burn with flame and the metal welding table far by the window. Having one puny chimney and one cracked window wasn’t nearly enough ventilation for cool air.

“That patch should last the week this time,” He spoke softly under his breath, though you knew he was talking to you rather than himself.  He was always quiet, and you grew to recognize when he was having a personal monologue and when he was addressing you.  You nodded.  

“The last one must have just been simply too worn because of the fire.  I will keep an eye on it more and I will call you if this one begins to falter as well.  Thank you for your work, Jungkook,” you spoke just like you did every other time he came to fix something. He only nodded briefly before he left the room, the wind pushing at his heels as he was soon gone as fast as you assumed he came.  

Jungkook was a mystery throughout the castle. Known for his achievable work and overwhelming good looks. However, it didn’t stop his shyness- similar to a young boy who is being scorned for stealing their sister's doll and burying it in the dirt. Though, you took the idea that the fact he at least spoke to you a small bit, he didn’t hate you at the very least.  

He wore his emotions on his cheeks, and you’ve never once seen him truly frown.  At least, not directly at you. You also swore that when you were faulty with a fever, he was the one who snuck chopped up herbs under your door inside a small cloth bag for you to find and steam for a nice, hot herbal tea.  

You sighed as you soon set your basket onto your desk and slotted yourself onto the stool, not really ready and willing to slave away another day, but you had nothing else to do.  You couldn’t see Jimin until the moon was up.  Perhaps if you finished early, you could actually get some decent sleep tonight in the end.

Melting, steaming, pounding, hammering, welding and cooling.  Your day happened just as always.  Rinse and repeat the steps and there you were, a professional metal worker, or what you could only assume the royal family saw as professional.  Your work was far from exquisite, though it got the job done. Finishing your workload with 5 brand new locks and a set of matching keys for each too, you allowed yourself a small rest. Throwing a bucket of water on the stone fire and removing your tunic you were finally able to breathe.   

Sat only in your chest bindings and trousers around your waist, you watched the thick smoke of the water doused fire drift up through the chimney and exit somewhere out into the overcast, grey daytime sky.

Practically crawling across the floor, you picked yet another grape off the vine you took from the kitchen that morning and popped it into your mouth, the tart of it makes you wince as you soon welcomed the taste.  Your bread had been devoured long ago and your apple had been half eaten, the rest of it browned from air exposure and then tossed out the window for compost or whatever animal found it.  Your grapevine was nearly empty as the second apple remained whole and healthy.

Soon, you felt the sweat on your body cool as you picked up your tunic top and threw it back over your head, tossing the new and cold metal of locks and keys in your basket before you left your workroom.  Briskly walking to drop off of your daily metals, you slid the basket into its place for it to be checked over later by advisers of the king to make sure they were durable enough and left it behind.  

You have been bothered all day long about Jimin and his location and how everything seemed awfully specific and odd about his seclusion.  You wanted to know why his shackles were silver, a material loathed in Senri’s land of fool’s gold. Why did those white silks keep him restricted so well and what was the mask he wore and why was it so bothersome to think about?  

Without realizing, you had spent the remainder of your day in the library.  Reading books about the Gods, about Ventus and Senri.  About silver and about the moon and the sun.  About what the silks holding Jimin might be.  Writing down any and everything you could.  When you ran out of paper you would write on your skin, covering it with your clothes when someone would walk past.

When the evening bells tolled, you cursed as you quickly scrambled to put away your books and rushed out, back to retrieve your basket and return to your room.  

You grimaced when you saw your basket of crafted metal hadn’t been touched, the king’s advisers once again not doing their job unless you waited on their hand and foot, spoon feeding them their tasks.  You rolled your eyes as you grabbed your basket, metal and locks inside along with your one apple left, shocked to see it hadn’t been stolen.  Did anyone even look at your basket today day?

You shook your head as you sped off to your room, but not at a pace that was suspicious.  Not, just a small hop that made it look like you were simply well worked and ready for rest.  When, in reality, you were ready to make yet another secret trip.

You were jolted awake when your bedroom door was met with a harsh bang.  Throwing yourself out of the bed, you unlocked the door and swung it open, catching the retreating form of a guard who had probably just slammed his spread into the wood of your door. Shutting it again with a harsh grunt, you heard thunder outside your window that made your head turn.  

The oncoming storm worried at your mind; all because Jimin was still in that cell.  Scrambling about your room, you slipped on a pair of pants under your untucked top. Forgoing your boots as much as you wanted to wear them, the heels were just too loud in the empty, echoing halls of the late night palace.  

Taking a small candle and holster, pocketing a small box of matches and the one apple you had kept with you, you quickly left your room.  The trip to the tapestry was even more nerve-racking than last time.  A destination and really no excuse as to why you were roaming when you shouldn’t be this time.  Though, you made it under the cloth and through the door without detection once again.

Taking a breath of air, you knelt to the ground. Taking your matches, you struck one on a piece of jagged stone and watched the flame burst before it simmered down enough you could light your candle.  The corridor to the staircase was far too dangerous to keep traveling in darkness. Once lit successfully, you waved out the match and discarded it on the stone floor before you stood back up and made your way down the long trek of the stoney hall.

It was several minutes before you reached the heavy, rusted door to the stairs and with your shoulder against it, pushed it open.  Pushing it shut with your back, you blew out your candle, now in the fire lit stairwell of torches.  Carefully stepping down with your bare feet, you soon made it to the bottom and you were still for a moment.  Silent and listening.  

Jimin chased you off for a reason last night.  Someone must’ve been on their way, how he knew that- you didn’t know, but that had to be the case.  Last night, you found him far late into the moonlit hours.  This time, at the high moon, surely you’d have more time with him. Maybe he’d even grant you more questions, because after all your reading and all your thinking, you had several.

It was silent in the cell beyond the door. The sound of the rain starting bouncing off the stone.  Rain was no good omen in Kiah.  Rain was never just rain, it was storms- it was destruction and it was Senri throwing a temper tantrum about something or another.  Letting out his frustrations, even when he was not the one who should control the rain- perhaps his attempt to control what was once Ventus’ was what caused storms to brew.  

Rain, water, moon, wind, and tide all belonged to that of Ventus.  It was his domain to rule, but when he disappeared, somehow Senri must’ve found a way to take the reigns and completely distort and abuse the power.  

The sun and desert should never tamper with the moon and its tides. Senri’s corrupt rule was proof enough of that.

Shaking your head, you take the metal ring of the door and once more pull it open.  The creaking of the door and the small splashes of your bare feet against the damp stone caught Jimin’s attention.

He had already been awake, fading in and out of a weary state when he felt the air in the stairwell change.  Though, the presence was different than that of his usual visitors, and low and behold, there you were in front of him again. Covered more than the previous night, holding an apple in one hand and and a blown out candle in the other.  

His tense shoulders slacked as you walked inside, placing your candle on the table of torture instruments and walked over to him.  You still hadn’t known if he was awake or not. You placed the apple down in a puddle of clean rain water and slowly approached him.  Jimin watched, completely still, as your feet stepped in the ankle-deep puddles of uneven stone and he questioned why you continued to remain barefooted when your feet were so cut and damaged.

He watched as you slowly knelt in front of him, reaching out to touch him, but hesitated a moment. He saw the sleeve of your long shirt lift, revealing words upon words of information.  Scanning them, he noticed the name Ventus a number of times. Reading that name once again made his chest swirl and his fists clench.  

“Jimin?” You slowly questioned as you whispered, not a breath louder than the rain dripping through the grate above.  He remained silent, however. “I’m going to remove your mask now,” you warned before your fingers curled around the edges of it just like last night and slowly pulled it off.  

You were met with his silver eyes staring at you in an unwavering manner.  He looked so tired, eyes heavy and skin ghostly.  Setting the mask down at his side with ease, you quickly pushed on his shoulders and persuaded him to untuck his knees from under him to sit on his rear.  It may be wet on the cell floor, but it would be better for relaxing if he sat down completely.  

Jimin remained silent as he moved with your touches and pushes, doing what you willed of him. Oddly obedient for himself, he had to admit.  

“Why have you returned?” The first words spoken from him and he sounded ungrateful and irked.

“I have found out many things within the day that has passed.  Would you like to hear about it all?” You completely disregarded his questions.  He remained silent, so you took your chance to start talking before he would eventually interrupt you. “I spent my day reading books upon books about the old Gods and their kingdoms.  I read about many kingdoms to the east and west. Some with one God, other with several.  Then, I read about Kiah and Eden.  The sister kingdoms who used to rule as separate kingdoms with two Gods, but decades ago merged into one melting pot of a falling empire.”

“What did you learn exactly?” Jimin questioned, more than curious about how the books told history, or how the books may have completely distorted history.

“I learned many things.  About the kingdoms and about their Gods.  Senri and Ventus. Complete polar opposites and yet they managed to work side by side for so long.” You paused as you decided what should come next.  “I read in the books that it was the disappearance of Ventus that caused Senri to fill in the spot left behind thanks to his partner's vacancy, but… that doesn’t feel solid enough to me.”  

“You doubt your kingdom’s history?”

“I do,” you answered without hesitation.  “I cannot help having this feeling that the answers to all my questions are dangling in front of my eyes.”  You looked at the silver chains around Jimin’s ankles.  “Silver was the element of ‘Ventus of the Moon’ and has been forbidden in Kiah since I was a youth.  Just speaking of it can land even a child harsh punishment.”

You reached out and lightly touched the chilled shackle.  The metal was smooth, cool and something about it felt so much different than all the copper and gold in which you were most familiar.  When you came into contact with his shackle, Jimin’s very core shook.  He’s still just as sensitive with silver now as he was back then.  

“I am a metal worker.  I grew up in the palace of Kiah under the royal family chosen by the God Senri. I am not a loyal follower of my God and I am a studious worker only because I wish not yet to die.  However, I will admit to being a lot of things, one thing I am not is stupid.”  You moved and hovered above Jimin’s face, tall on your knees as your hands came and cradled under his chin, making sure his eyes went nowhere but into your own.  “I would like to ask my final question now, Jimin.”  

He was silent as he looked into your eyes.  He kept seeing you in them.  Your past, your emotions, your work, your skills, just you. The window to your soul is those deep, dark, living eyes and they remained wide open for him to look and watch as he pleased.  He couldn’t bring himself to tear away from them, not even willing himself a blink.

“Are you certain you wish to ask a question as heavy as the one resting on your tongue?” He whispered as if he had already known the question ready to come out of your mouth.  You nodded. “As you wish.”

“I have many questions, even ones I know you could answer; however, I will stick to the one I am due for.  Regardless of how you answer, my desires shall not change.”  When you thought about your decision to free Jimin, you noticed just how cold Jimin’s skin was to touch.  It was like touching a soft pool of water that sat still in the dead of night.  “Jimin, you’re Ventus- aren’t you?”

It was an emotion so foreign for him to hear his name back after so long.  It restored a part of him he thought to be lost; the God he knew himself to be and the God he thought to be dead so long ago.  In this cell, in these bindings and chains, he was as good as human.  He was restricted with unimaginable magic and held prisoner here like a dog.  His mind wandered back to the times he was a God, freely roaming his home back in Eden.

“I am,” he spoke with a small, short breath.  Admitting he was Ventus was even more foreign than hearing it from another.  He was Ventus of the Moon, but he was now so used to being Jimin after all this time held captive.

You dropped his chin, moving to kneel with your knees tucked under you on the ground, relaxing as Jimin’s eyes followed your movement.  After a moment, you got up and moved to take the apple from it’s puddle and brought it back to him.  Kneeling once more, you offered it to him, holding it in front of his lips.  

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“You may be a God, and you may not live like normal humans do, but something to eat surely can’t be all too awful.”  That was correct.  Gods need not live off of human food, as they would never starve.  The only way for a God to die is to be killed by another God.  However, that does not mean starvation and hunger does not affect them.  It’s an illness, one that crawls in the stomach of Gods and it relentless.  They would not die, but they would suffer.  

Jimin could not remember the last time he was able to eat anything. The clawing in his gut became numbing years ago, but the apple in his line of sight made that feeling jolt back with a fury.

“You cannot expect me to actually be fed,” he spoke in a tone that mimicked his raised brow.  You rolled your eyes. Leave it to a god to be full pride, even given the current situation.

“I could always eat it myself.”  

Jimin rolled his eyes back at you as he quickly moved to bite a chunk into the apple you presented him.  He lowered his head as he chewed and swallowed, taking a breath.  Eating truly was a taxing task when you hadn’t done it in decades.  Yet, he soon found himself eating around the core you presented him with.  

You dabbed at his lips and chin with a small handkerchief you kept in your trousers once he finished.  You set the apple core aside, mentally reminding yourself to not forget to take it outside with you once you leave.  Jimin sat with his legs in front of him as he tilted his head back, eyes closed as he breathed.  He seemed better than before- if you could at all shine a positive light on his prison predicament.

You itched to ask more questions.  You wanted to know so much, but you knew that you shouldn't ask.  You weren’t even sure how to properly address him anymore if you were honest with yourself.  He was a God, someone of immense power and someone far more valued than yourself: a simple human woman.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Y/n,” Jimin spoke as he kept his eyes closed and head back. “If you agree to it, I’ll answer any questions you may have.  I require no limit.”  

“And what would that favor be, Ventus?” Your voice spoke with a higher register as you spoke his Godly known name.  Unsure if you should be using it without a title or really at all as you were not of Eden.

“Do not refer to me as the God Ventus. You met me as the hostage known as Jimin,” he lowered his chin back down and opened his eyes as he looked at you.  Your breath left your throat, Ventus truly was a beautiful being.  “I would prefer to remain as Jimin in your eyes, at the very least.”

“That- that is all you ask of me and you will answer any query of mine?  That seems far too simple.”

“It is simple.  Jimin is the name I took when I became that of a human while held in imprisonment.  He is something Ventus of the past is now quite familiar with.  Truth be told, I cannot even remember how to be a God.  It’s been far too long.”

You sat in silence in front of him.  He must have so much pent up emotion inside of him, it must be painful at this point.  He cannot die, he is stripped of his title and his power, and his freedom that used to be as vast as the night sky was snuffed out into nothing by the sun that shone so brightly it burned.

You looked at your fingertips, all the hard work you’ve put into your work all these years and Jimin was here under your feet all along- suffering worse than you. No matter how cruel and harsh the castle work was, Jimin would be blessed to have the ease of your life compared to his cruel fate.  

“I believe,” you started, “I can agree to that condition.  Though I have many questions, I will do my best not to overwhelm you.”  Jimin remained silent as you looked at him and he at you.  “What-,” you started then halted, rewording yourself. “Do you remember what the sun looks like? Like, the sunrise or the colors of the sky at dusk?”

Jimin blinked as you asked.  

“Senri is that of the sun, yet you’ve never once seen it?” You shook your head.  It made sense if Jimin truly thought about it.  Senri was so obsessed with Jimin and his power over the moon and night that it must’ve consumed him when he sealed and stole the power from Jimin.  With so much unrelenting power it could only seal itself into Senri- the nearest god. Senri was nowhere near strong enough to control what Ventus had previously.  The moon, hypothetically, was stuck in front of the sun in an everlasting eclipse.

The thought of you not experiencing the warmth of the sun and the beauty and light it brings with it was enough to make Jimin angry. Stripping mankind of an essential as important as the solar system’s center star.  How flagrantly sacrilegious.

“I do.  Would you like to hear about it all? Use my words to paint a picture in your mind about what it contains.” You nodded at him.  He smiled as he got comfortable and slid his eyelids over his eyes.  Thinking of just the right words to explain such a sight. “The sun is a light one cannot simply shut off or snuff out.  It is as if the strongest burning torch was lit into the sky and grew and grew until it created a world.  The sky is a canvas for when the sun approaches after long nights and sleeps after tiresome days.  It becomes painted with colors of, like staring at an ocean in the sky with clouds as white as the eyes.”

“Clouds are white?!” Your sudden outburst startled him into a chuckle.  As expected, an overcast is always a state of foul, ugly grey.  

“They naturally are, there are many types of clouds.  Some that are flat against the sky, some that climb and tower into the heavens and some that are like cotton balls that float above us.”  The way your face gleamed with all the knowledge that books couldn’t teach you was so innocent.  Jimin took pride in the idea that he was passing on knowledge of his life to a generation that was blind to it all.  His mind whirled as you kept asking questions, quite frankly forgetting that you told him you would try your best not to overwhelm him.

He imagined a future of fools as he spoke and visited with you.  He imagined one day perhaps escaping this prison of his.  Breaking through the stone walls after he ripped these silks off his arms and shattered the silver that- ironically- bound him.  He imagined a future in which he could clear the skies and put Senri back in his place before he becomes so consumed by his obsession with Ventus he would corrupt and fall.  He imagined returning to Eden. To his home and his people and rejoicing as he worked to piece it all back together.

Most damming of all, he imagined that you might be at his side the entire process. Staring wide-eyed at the sun the first time you saw it, watching your tears the first time you get to witness the sunrise.  What clouds looked like and seeing the blue sky that hid behind all the grey you are so accustomed to.  

Jimin wasn’t sure how long you had continued to kneel on the stone floor and talk with him, but soon he deemed it time to shoo you away.  He knew you had your own life and your own work to attend in the morning, and it was quiet so perhaps he could get his own rest tonight without any unnecessary visits.

You persisted in trying to allow him to let you stay longer, but he only moved his arms ready to counter, resulting in a hiss as the silks tightened around him.  You looked at the spotless fabric.

“Why is it you cannot rip these?” Jimin gave you a warning look. “It is my last question tonight, I promise.” He sighed.  

“They are from across the seas.  Enchanted with a prayer of someone who cannot worship a God such as myself.  Once attached to a God, it can bind and trap any deity who shares power with another.”

“Shares?”

Jimin nodded.  “It is a fabric that was made by someone who worships one God.  A God of an entire country.”

You gasped.  “A single God can control all that is in a single country?!” It is no foreign knowledge that kingdoms were a great deal smaller than whole countries.  “That cannot be, Senri is proof that one cannot control all that is and can be!”

“Do not be so flabbergasted.  A particular God has been at his work for far longer than Senri and I across the seas.  He has grown accustomed to how his world works and respects that he is to stay clean out of ours.”

“They… seem like a decent sort.”

“I cannot stand them.  They are insufferable and arrogant.”

You chuckled at him as you took his mask gently from the ground.  “You two have that in common then.”  Jimin was nearly insulted as you slid his mask over his face, making sure it would not fall in the day to come. “It is alright for me to come and visit you again, isn’t it?” Jimin smiled, even if his face and expressions were sealed off from your sight.

“Please do.  I don’t hate your presence.” You scoffed as you grabbed the chair and climbed out of the grate just as last night and slid it back over it’s cover once outside.  Once more maneuvering out of the maze, only remembering where to go this time around, and back into your room with the most cautious of steps you made it to your bed where you flopped down in the utmost flop of gracefulness.

Jimin was Ventus. On top of that, you learned so much about him and the world he remembered.  You wanted to see that world too one day, and you could only do it by achieving your goal.  By setting Jimin free.  Though, it would definitely take time.

Your visits to Jimin continued for days that turned to weeks that soon melded into months.  Jimin grew more and more worried about the prospect of you becoming caught in your acts of sneaking down to see him.  You, however, weren’t as high strung about it.  You were more than ready to rat  the royal family- who you came to learn kept Jimin down here- completely out if you had to.  

However, it was today as you sat in your workspace fiddling with the boring metal scattered along your desk when someone had knocked and entered your work room without even getting confirmation from you.  Turning your back, you saw Jungkook shutting the door behind him and then turning to you.  Your first thought was he had to fix your ceiling again, but he had no equipment with him.  And the smirk on his face told you he was about to cast his shy boy demeanor aside and completely throw a wrench into your everyday routine.

“Can I help you with something today, Jungkook?”

Jungkook pursed his lips out as he locked his hands behind his back and quite fancily waltz further into the room as he strolled up to your desk. “Perhaps,” he said with a high twinge.  Unclasping his hands from behind  his back, he took to leaning them onto your desk, distracting you from your work as he leaned down, his back parallel to the ceiling and his legs straight, ankles crossed.  He picked at his lip with his teeth as he moved to tinker with your scrap metal.  “You know,” he began, “as someone who is needed for repairs day in and day out every day of the week, it’s no wonder that I have a special privilege.  Do you know what that privilege is?” You just ticked your brow at him.

“Is this going somewhere?”

“Of course you don’t,” he said, ignoring your question. “No, no- not many do after all.  But, you see, that privilege is that I haven’t any restrictions on when and why I need to be in my chambers or not.  I’m free to roam the castle as and when I please without consequence.  Using the excuse of checking up on a repair from a week ago, or simply going to work on something I hadn’t the time for previously.  So, with that in mind, it is no surprise that I see things that I am not supposed to all the time.” You shot him a warning look.  “And my goodness did I see something I just have to share.  For a few nights now, I’ve noticed you have been looking a bit rough around the eyes.”

“I have no need for your input on whether or not I’m pleasing to look at.  I care not for my appearance in the daytime.”

“Why daytime specifically? Is the little metal worker exploring at night?” Mock interest.

“I am sleeping at the hours I should be.  I have no need to care about my looks when my room is locked and I am dead to the world outside my door.” You answered calmly.  Though, you couldn’t suppress the complete shaking of your hands as you lowered them below your desk.

Jungkook lifted his right arm as he curled his fingers under his chin, his fingertips brushing the softest portion above his top lift.  Tapping as a sly smile grew on his lips.  “Is that right?” He slurred as if catching you in your lie.  To be honest, he did.  He was obviously hinting at the idea that at least once, he’s seeing you slip behind that tapestry and disappear inside the hidden door.  

“I thought you were a shy man.  What do you want, Jungkook?” You demanded as you finally met his gaze.  The glimmer of entertainment at your attention flicked with life in his brown eyes and it honestly made you want to knock him through the roof.  

“I am shy when I don’t know the person.  You, however, are different. I’ve been in this room numerous times for the same repair and the same greeting conversation cut short.  I just believe we should… for lack of better terms- strengthen our relationship.” You glared at him.  “As platonically as possible that is.  I mean no offense when I say you are not my type of woman.”  You were a touch offended at that statement of his.

“Don’t gloat.  You’re not as wildly desirable as you seem yourself.”  You huffed as you looked away from him.  He feigned pain as he lowered his head with a dramatic curve in his brow and a fake tut in his chin.  “Cut the act, what do you want,” you scowled.

He lifted his head back as he hooked his foot under the metal ring of a nearby stool and dragged it over.  Adjusting it just slightly in position so he could take a seat at your desk with you.  

“I want to know where that tapestry door leads to.”  You froze.  You knew he knew, but hearing it aloud made the state of your secret far more ominous.  If the royal family found out, if Jungkook told them, you’d be- at best- thrown in prison. Jungkook saw the panic in your eyes, and honestly, he felt bad about it.  Sure, Jungkook may have a lot of dirt on multiple people within palace walls, but he held no ill will towards you.  He had no intention of holding whatever it is you doing against you.  In truth, he would support it, as it went against what the corrupt royals want.

He saw the way your arms shook as you squeezed your hands tightly together under the desk as your shoulders squared up.  Your eyes darting back and forth like you were reading at the fastest pace mankind possibly could.  You were trying to come up with a lie, something to keep him off the trail of the truth, and even if you did- the hesitation that stunned you silent was too long.  Whatever came out of your mouth, if it wasn’t the truth, he would surely know.

“Y/n,” you jumped, pulled from your racing thoughts.  “I want the truth.  I don’t care how it sounds, but I do not want you to lie to me.  I have no intentions of spreading whatever it is that is making you disobey the rules.”  

You saw no lie in his eyes and did not hear any dishonesty in his words. In complete truth, you had been bottling up so many secrets and learning so much it was driving you mad to keep it all to yourself.  If Jungkook was truthful, and he swore, perhaps you could confide in him?

“Do you swear? Swear you won’t repeat anything I say to a third party.  Swear on it.”

“I swear on Senri himself,” he stated with a smirk.

“No,” you sneered. “Anything but him.”

Jungkook paused. “Then, I swear on my mother’s life,” you let out the smallest exhale.  It was no secret when his mother visited him he was more bright and cheery within the castle.  He loved his mother so, and with that love, you knew he would not break this promise.  

You got up, went to your office door and cracked it open.  There were no bodies outside and no boot clad footsteps to be heard.  You closed the door shut and flipped the bolted lock.  No one would enter now.  Going back to Jungkook, you pulled open your desk drawer and then revealed a hidden pocket underneath it.  A hidden area where you keep metals you’ve never seen or rare metals that you want to keep to tinker with.  Within them, was a scrap of metal you pulled and held in front of Jungkook’s eyes.  

The metal reflected in his dark eyes as he gasped in awe at it.  “Is that-”

“It’s silver,” you said as Jungkook hushed you, thinking your voice to be far too loud.  

“You can’t just say that!  If someone heard you, you’d be arrested immediately and your office and room would be searched thoroughly and then you’d find yourself sitting in a cell with a mangy all man named ‘Darien” for the rest of your life!” You rolled your eyes- as if you didn’t know all of that already.  He had no idea how nervous you were when you chipped a piece of Jimin’s shackle and snuck it back to your office like a crook.  

You jerked your hand a bit as a signal that it was alright for Jungkook to touch the metal.  He knew just gazing at it was nearly equivalent to treason.  However, when the metal touched his skin as he pulled it from your fingertips, he gasped as how it felt so different.  

He was in innocent awe as you sat back down onto your stool, your metals for work forgotten.  As he fiddled with the metal, moving it between his fingers and rolling it in his palm as well as looking at it from the light of the room and watching how it shined and glimmered as you had polished it, he smiled like a child tasting sweets.

“Is this what you keep going to see?  Is there more silver?”  

You rolled your tongue along your teeth.  “Yes, there is, but I cannot obtain it.  It’s- restricting something.” Jungkook set the silver down onto the table, oddly careful with it- treating it like glass when in fact it was far greater in durability.

“Restricting something?”  You sighed as you leaned your elbows on your table, rubbing your face with your hands.  “What’s hidden behind that door Y/n?”

“A passageway.  A secret passage that goes far into the castle’s south before descending in a stairwell.  It leads to a dungeon- a single cell where a single prisoner is kept.  Directly below the Temple.”  

Jungkook was shocked, as it was appropriate.  You were just as shocked when you found it, at least he didn’t have to experience the nervous concoction of bubbles in your gut when you traversed it for the first time all those nights ago. He remained silent, as you continued with a sigh on how to specifically word everything in a way that made some decent sense to someone who should know the castle in and out.

“In this cell, is a prisoner and I’ve been going back night after night to visit this prisoner.  He has grown on me.  He is someone special to me, and I’ve learned much about him.  As he has learned much of me.” You cut yourself off.  You sighed as Jungkook leaned forward, engrossed in the prisoner he was just now finding out about.  

“There’s something bad about him, isn’t there?” You shook your head.

“No! He didn’t do anything wrong!  He doesn’t deserve to be locked up.  He was kidnapped, forced into chains and restricted and his powers were stripped and he-”

“Woah, hold on. Powers were stripped? What does that even mean?”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself.  “No, forget that.  I mean-”

“I told you to tell me the truth.”

You sighed heavily as you ran your hands through your hair. “Who I refer to him as is Jimin.  The prisoner below the Temple of Senri is called Jimin.  However, he does have a second name. One that he’s held with him for a very long time, even before he was imprisoned.  You have to promise me not to let anything I’m telling you leak.”

“I’ve already sworn on my mother.  Would you feel better if I swore once more on my siblings?”  

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea.”  You shook your head as you stood up and moved to Jungkook’s side, bending to cup around his ear and whisper to him.  Though you knew no one as outside the room and you both were alone, you didn’t want to risk anything.  “The one in that cell is the God of Eden.  Ventus is being held captive in Kiah.”

“You told someone?!” Jimin scolded as he jerked on his bindings, scowling at you as you squeezed your eyes shut in front of him.  He had noticed your rigid form and worried someone had seen you, but when you removed his mask, sat in front of him and blurted out you told Jungkook about him and how you’ve been sneaking around to see him, he exploded.  “You can’t do that!  What if he tells someone else, what if the King should find out!”

“He swore he wouldn’t tell,” you defended weakly.

“Sure, and Senri promised me ages ago that we’d rule as one.  Look where that got me.”  

“That’s not even remotely the same.”

“It is when your safety is on the line, Y/n.” Jimin sighed as he slouched back onto his rear, his feet kicked out in front of him.  He nudged you with the toe of his boot.  “You know I do not want to yell at you, but I know first hand what your King and his son are capable of.  I do not want harm to come to you like it has me.” You nodded.  

You knew that.  He has made it a point recently to overreact to anything you mention that could possibly bring you harm.  He gets overheated when he sees a small cut on your hand from work when you see him.  He wants the best for you, and even if he knows you cannot obtain it within the castle walls, he can wish.  He can even pray.

He sat on the stone floor as he sighed, looking at you.  He watched you gnaw on your lip as you worried your thoughts through your eyes.  He could read you like a book, and he had yet to even tell you how he could see things about yourself that you didn’t even know.  Just by looking into your eyes, he wanted to keep it to himself.  Your eyes were his favorite thing about you, so he kept it to himself.  He wanted to keep looking at them.  

Though, you were frowning for far too long.

He kicked at your knee again as you jumped, brought out of your thoughts as you flicked your eyes up to him, locking onto his own as he smiled.  The window to your everything looking at him.  “Smile,” you told you as you just huffed and relaxed your stiff body. “Hey,” he started again, “I have something I want to give you.”

You looked up at him?  “Pardon?” He nudged his boot against you thrice as he lay his leg flat, heel on the ground his toes pointed upwards.  

“Remove my boot,” he requested as you raised your brow.  He rolled his eyes.  “Don’t think, just do it you brat,” he teased as you lightly swatted his calf.  He chuckled as you started unlacing his boot and removed it as he said.  Beneath was a fabric that only covered the bottom of his foot and curled over his heel and toes, leaving his foot more or less bare.  Pushing up the bottom of his pant leg, you saw something.  A silver anklet.  “You may remove that from me and wear it for yourself.”

You jerked your head up to him, your fingers brushing the beautiful piece of jewelry.  You shook your head.  

“No, I am not permitted to.  It is a piece belonging of a God, I cannot simply-”

“It may be, but it is also the same God of ownership who is giving you permission to wear it.  I want you to take it. Won’t you accept a gift from me?” You looked at him, a small smile on his face as you slowly nodded.  You removed the anklet, replaced his boot on his foot and looped the anklet around your own ankle.  “Silver looks rather charming on you.”

The night rolled as it always did afterward.  The next day, and the day after, Jungkook made it a point to catch you sometime in the day to make you spill about your visit.  He wanted to get to know Jimin, but you absolutely refused to let him go with you.  You were too wary about his skills in sneaking around and you were slightly concerned if you did allow him to accompany you, Jimin wouldn’t like it too much.

Also, it was a comforting thought knowing that only you knew about Jimin-- other than the royal family of course.  But, it was you who truly knew him.  Jimin was like a dream, though as all dreams do so bittersweetly- this one had to have an ending at some point.  

You woke one particular morning with a dry taste in your mouth.  You felt like something was suffocating you while you slept and no matter the water you drank or the number of times you cleared your throat, the unpleasantness wouldn’t leave.  Perhaps you were getting sick from so much exposure to whatever was in Jimin’s cell.  

If he knew, he’d surely tell you to take a few days for yourself and your health.  Perhaps you’d tell him when you visited tonight and take the next few nights for yourself.  Taking another swig from your water glass, you sat at your desk working as usual with Jungkook at your side.  He had cleared up his schedule of repairs for a bit to talk to you.  

It’s come to a point that you now called Jungkook a friend.  It wasn’t just Jimin he talked about with you, but all sorts of things.  He talked about his family far west of the castle.  His mother worked as a librarian while his younger brother was soon to finish early schooling by now. His youngest sister was like a little duckling, always following her mother.  His father worked as a smith in Jungkook’s hometown, supporting his family.  He certainly had a large family that he loved dearly.

You learned that it wasn’t just you Jungkook confronted with the idea of him knowing secrets.  Though he wouldn’t talk of your secret and Jimin, he was more than eager to yap you up when it came to Clevin the Guard’s secret stash of mint leaves for tea he steals from the kitchen every Saturday morning.

He was dear to you, and although younger than you, he was quite protective of you in regards to your work and health. His concern was something he and Jimin shared. When you told him that, he was flattered you compared him with a God; which made you immediately retract your statement so as to not boost his already inflated ego.

Jungkook was family to you now.  The only family you gained back within the time you were completely alone.  Though, you supposed it’s been a while since you were truly alone.  You had Jimin as well, but- how you felt towards him was far different than how you felt in regards to Jungkook.

There was a knock on your workroom door before a royal guard entered the stuffy room.  Clad in a far more superior armor than the typical castle guard, these men guarded the royal family specifically.  Jungkook stiffened as you remained calm and stood up to greet him.  The man stepped aside and allowed another man to enter the room.

The Prince of Kiah.  You’d seen him in passing, but never up close.  He was handsome sure, but if only he knew how truly ugly he really is. He strode in pride until his toes touched yours, almost impressed at your lack of backing down.  His brow ticked up as you looked into his eyes, eye contact solid and unwavering.  This man did not frighten you, he enraged you.

Jungkook sat rather restlessly at his stool.  Knee bouncing as he kept picking up and putting down the same metal lock you just finished welding as he watched you work on it previously.  Jungkook knew many things- all of which you had told him. How the royal family is responsible for Jimin’s torture being the more prominet thought in his head.  He was worried you’d lose your cool, scared you’d snap and reveal everything.  He just hoped you wouldn’t pick a fight.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of His Highness’s visit?” You spoke in a calm tone, a professional one you would call it.  

“I’ve come to ask for the assistance of the metal worker in the castle to help my father and I open a box we’ve recently discovered.”  The guard from before walked to the prince’s side, him finally backing up away from you, giving you room to breathe.  The guard handed him a small cube, wrapped in the most golden of silks.  Unraveling it showed a silver box with inscriptions on it that couldn’t be read.  It was marked completely in a foreign language- but you recognized it.  

You hid your intake of breath as Jungkook stood up, almost like he commited a crime.  The prince dismissed him. “Do not worry, I will not accuse you of a crime.”  The prince’s eyes moved back to the box, then to you. “This box is pure silver, dug up recently and returned to us from the far east along the border of Eden.  We’d like for you to find a way to open it so we may look at what may lay inside.”

“Why would a family of gold want anything to do with silver?” You asked, a bite in your voice.  The prince’s brows ticked before a sly grin grew on his face.  “We wish to find a lead as to why Ventus disappeared so long ago.”  You slowly curled your fists at your sides, hiding them the best you could behind your rear. Liar. “If we can do that, perhaps our brilliant God Senri can retrieve him and work at his side once more.” A miserable liar: the Prince

You took a moment before you stretched out your palm towards the royal ass himself.

“I’ll accept the task.  I will make attempts and I will not stop until I am certain I can open it.”  The prince’s smile turned wicked for but a moment before he masked it over with a gentle smile.  Setting the box into the palm of your hand, it was heavy and large.  It felt like a giant hammer rather than a small cube.  

“You shall have my mine and my Father’s thanks.  As for you, noble repairer,” Jungkook jumped, attention on the royal snot, “your duties in keeping the palace in one piece is admirable.  Keep it up.”  And, just as he marched inside with his guard at his side, he marched out, the door shutting behind him.  

Jungkook slammed himself against the desk as he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath the entire time.  All while you stood motionless, staring at the cube in your hand, the raw silver in your palm. Your knees staggered as the silver box dropped onto the floor, a heavy thud in it’s fall down.  Jungkook sprang from his stool before your knees hit the floor too hard and you felt your chest constrict.  

“Y/n, what's wrong?!” He shook your shoulder as you just stared at the silver box.  

“That box,” you started, Jungkook looking over at it.  “It looks just like Jimin’s shackles.  The writing, the symbols, it’s all the same.”  Jungkook looked at the crown of your head as you reached out to take the silver back, dragging it to your knees with shaky fingers.  “I have to show Jimin.  I have to.  This belongs to him, I know it does.”  You gripped your trouser-covered ankle as you sat on the floor with Jungkook, gripping tightly over the silver anklet you had hidden under your clothes. 

When night came, it came too slowly.  You grew so impatient and you couldn’t leave your room fast enough when midnight struck.  Practically dashing to the door, and down to Jimin, you burst into his cell and fell to your knees in front of him, a small pouch strapped to your side with the box inside.  As you fell in front of him, breathless, Jimin jumped as fear engulfed him.

“Y/n?! What is wrong, why are you in such a hurry? What's happened?” You ignored his onslaught of questions as you untied the pouch and plucked out the box, holding it in front of his face as you ripped his mask off, throwing it far to the side without the same gentle care you always offered it before.  His breath hitched.  “How did- Y/n how did you find this?”

“So, it’s yours as I suspected?” He nodded, shoulders stiff as he tugged just slightly on his restraints.

“Y/n, you must be careful with that. You mustn’t lose it, you must not allow harm to come to that cube.  It’s far too important.  How did you find it?”  His tone was cold and demanding.  He sounded like the rude Jimin from the first time you saw him.

“The prince gave it to me.  He instructed me to open it, feeding me lies that if I did it would allow the royal family to ‘find out’ what happened to Ventus.”

“Do not open it.  At least, not around Senri or his royals.  You mustn’t.  Promise me you won’t.”  You weakly nodded, though you didn’t know what you were agreeing to.  “That cube is what sealed my power, inside that is all the power I was stripped of, Y/n.”  You gasped as you nearly let the cube topple from your hand.

You slowly set it down at his knees as you then touched at his shackles, identical.  

“Is that why these shackles can restrain you? They are made of your power too?”  He weakly nodded as he hung his head. You picked the cube back up. “If I were to open this box, like the prince requested, what would happen?”

“Senri would gain what remaining power of mine he doesn’t already possess and he would become completely corrupted.  Your dream of seeing the sun would vanish forever.  Senri wouldn’t even be Senri anymore, he’d be something more akin to a demon than a God.”  You shivered at the thought. “Y/n, I’m serious.  Do not open that box, promise me you won’t open it in front of them.”  

“What if I opened it in front of you?” You asked shyly.  Jimin breathed out his nose and if he wasn’t bound, you bet he would’ve run his hand over his face.  

“Ideally it would restore the power I was lost to and I would be able to free myself-”

“Then why can’t I open it in front of you?”

“It could kill you!” He screamed, making you jerk and drop the cube onto your lap as it rolled onto the stone floor off your legs.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “It wasn’t my intent to yell at you.”

“I know,” you softly spoke.  

“Just once I wish I wasn’t bound so tightly,” he basically whimpered in agitation. He didn’t answer you when you questioned him what he meant, but just once he wished he could hold you. In actuality, he wanted you to break that box.  He wanted you to smash it at his feet, but he didn’t want the recoil of his released power to backlash onto you in such a cramped cell.  What if you got hurt, what if he hurt you?  

That night Jimin wanted to send you back immediately, but he never got the chance as someone barged into the cell with the two of you. Jimin sprung up, tugging in his silk restraints and kicking at his shackles as the Prince of Kiah stomped into the cell.  You never got the chance to get to your feet as you quickly kicked the cube towards and behind jimin, hiding it in the shadows.

“You wench! I knew you were loitering around behind the royal family!” He grabbed your shirt’s collar behind your neck and yanked you to your heels.  Dragging you as Jimin watched as blood stained the stone beneath you as your heels tore open. “You’ve committed treason to the highest regard! Betraying your King!” 

“Release her!”  Jimin screamed, yanking, wishing that just once his binds would give.  Just a little, just enough, but nothing.  They remained as tight, maybe even tighter than always. Jimin was ignored as you were dragged out of the cell, the heavy wooden door slammed shut as Jimin’s screams to release you were silenced.

The prince threw you onto the stone steps, your head hitting hard against the edge of a step as you saw stars.  Your vision blurred as an immediate headache and pain followed.  You felt the weight of the prince on top of you as something enclosed around your throat.

You gasped as the prince strangled you, squeezing the life out of you.  Your feet kicked as your hips bucked in any attempt to escape him.  Your hands enclosed around his wrist, trying to twist him off you as your mouth opened with desperation to get any air at all.  Your hands moved to swing at his face, your nails catching his skin and cutting his cheeks and throat, but his attempt to kill you didn’t cease.  

You gagged as you felt the slight roll of saliva trail down your lips in the most disgusting feeling in the world. You hiccuped and pleaded with tears burning your eyes at the desperate need to breathe.  

Knees still kicking, hips still thrashing and hands searching for any way at all to free yourself, you took to searching around the prince himself.  Your hand landed on a step and a loose piece of rubble.  Without a thought, you curled the stone around your hand and swung up, knocking the prince in the head as he toppled off you and down the few steps back to the base of the stairwell.  

You rolled onto your side as you held your throat, cuts from his nails and soreness from his grip burned as you hacked and coughed, breathing letting your lungs utterly burn. Your back hurt and felt coated in soon to be bruises from all the thrashing on the uneven, jagged stairs you were pinned on. You wiped the drool from the corners of your mouth with the back of your shaking hand, as your blurry vision refused to clear.  A ringing was heard in the back of your head, a ringing that wouldn’t stop.  

It was clear from the warmth on the back of  your head that you were bleeding as the blood ran down your neck into your shirt’s fabric and down your back.  The collison from earlier damaging you more than you originally thought.  You gasped, trying to find your footing, but finding it impossible.  You fell against the wall, wanting to descend and get back to Jimin.  

You were hardly even able to move a foot before guards rushed the stairwell, seizing you and gathering their prince.  Who was injured and unconscious, but not dead- unfortunately.  The commotion throughout the castle that night was loud as you were dragged through the halls and thrown into a cell above ground and in the farest place possible away from Jimin- in the Northern castle’s wing.  

You were offered no medical aid as you collapsed onto the cold floor behind bars and finally, you let the ringing stop as you closed your eyes, worrying about Jimin up until the moment you let your mind and body sleep in anything but comfort.

Jimin was frantic all night.  He didn’t know what to do.  You were followed, you were found and you were taken away so quickly he couldn’t even process the action until you were gone.  He heard skirmishing outside the door before guards marched down and then began back up the stairs and out into the palace.  It was deathly quiet, and he hated it.  It was the devil's hour, a time in which he was almost always by your side telling you of the world that was lost.  

He was panicking and he was beside himself.  Hysterical may be another way of putting it.  Jimin couldn’t stop thinking about what may have happened to you.  Would you return to him once more?  Would you be exiled? Banished from the castle, the kingdom?  You commited treason, an act punishable by- no.  He didn’t even want to think about it.  

Jimin didn’t want to put the thought of you dying into his head. 

That is all that consumed him all night and the following day.  When night came once more, he was so tired, so emotionally drained as he hung limp and hollow in his silks.  The fight in his body was zapped away and for the first time in so very long, he wished to simply give up. He wished that you worshiped him, that you prayed to him.  Maybe then he could hear your voice, confirm your life was still burning- but alas you were not of his land.  

You believed in him, you looked at him, you knew of Ventus- but you were not one of his children.  You did not worship him.  You did not praise him.  So, your voice, your prayers, your pleas, and thoughts were all deaf to him and he heard nothing.  Not even the wind could tell him of you anymore with his power sealed so tightly.

Jimin nearly screamed when the wooden door to his cell was pushed open gently.  Too gentle to be someone he thought may be a threat.  He bared his teeth as he glared, his mask never being placed back on him as the intruder stepped into the room as thunder rumbled far off into the night sky.

A brunette boy with a build of a man far above his age. He looked to be younger than you in his eyes.  If Jimin’s own eyes weren’t clouded by rage, by hate, and by fear he may have seen that the man who entered his room was no threat.

“I’m not an enemy,” he started.  “My name is Jungkook, I’m a friend of Y/n’s.”  Jimin hissed at him.  

“I am no fool.”

“Please believe me.  She- she told me.  I was that friend she told about you.  You’re Ventus, right?  She told me she calls you Jimin.”  Jimin’s body relaxed.  He was telling the truth.  This Jungkook man was a friend of yours.  A friend in which you trusted so wholeheartedly that you revealed your secret.  Then, he raised his shields again.  

“If you were the only one to know of me, why was he hauled off last night!  Why did the prince know of her and her visits!”  The venom in his voice was sharp, stabbing like the sharpest knife as Jungkook felt small.  The God was smaller in form, yes, but the raw power and rage made Jungkook feel like a child being yelled at by his father for the first time again.  

“I don’t know!  She- I woke up and someone had told me she was arrested.  They didn’t tell me why, but the only idea I could think of was you.  So, I managed to get permission to speak with her.”

“She’s alive?” Jimin breathed as Jungkook slowly nodded, stepped forward just a bit more.  He had an objective coming here tonight.  

“She is, but her execution is to be immediate.  It’s scheduled at dawn, they are to drown her in the river.”  Jimin’s body slumped.  He was shaking in rage as he knew it was a direct blow from Senri to him.  Drowning her, drowning you in something that was originally his to control.  Water was his realm as was the moon and wind and in this way Senri was punishing Jimin and you both.

Jungkook moved slowly as he moved around Jimin and to a small shaded area and searched around before he picked up the item in which you asked him to find.  While he posed as a betrayed friend and demanded to see the traitor, he used it to finally get to see you. Jungkook knelt in the shadows as he held the cube of silver in his hand, turning and examining it.

“You know, Y/n may not last until her execution.” Jimin’s body jolted.  “She has a wound on the back of her head, and cuts and bruises around her throat. Her entire body is so weak now. It is no mystery the prince tried to kill her.  Without proper medical aid, she could very well die before dawn.”  Jimin let out a shaky breath.  No, he mustn’t.  

Gods mustn’t weep.  

Jungkook wrapped something around the silver cube, something that was small and filled to the brim with explosives.  It was your last resort.  He placed it back in the shadows and stood up, walking back to Jimin’s front, looking the God in the face.  

He noticed his mask laying far from his slouched form, the edge of it chipped as he picked it up and placed it on the table in the room.  Jungkook looked at the grate above him that you told him you always exited out of into the hedge maze and behind the Temple before entering the south gates of the palace.  It was like he knew where he was, despite this being the first time he’s been here himself.

“I’m going to do whatever I can,” Jungkook said as he turned and walked towards the door, knowing that he could return the way he came without worry.  The castle was far too busy to be concerned with this passageway.  He opened the door, before he stopped on his way out. Pausing over the threshold.  “Y/n also sends a message,” he looked back over his shoulder.  “Don’t give up and don’t let Senri win.”

Jungkook closed his eyes, exiting the room with nothing more to say.  He didn’t turn his back and he didn’t look back at the God, allowing him to shed the tears rolling down his face in the silence of his cell and the brewing nighttime storm overheard.  

Jimin was in a restless daze for the second night in a row now.  The thunder rolled with lightning striking among the clouds above him with rain pelting down and creating small rivers of water to flood into his cell and engulf his feet. The sensation and chills that came with the weather didn’t even bother him at this point.  He tried to find something in the sound of the rain and storms that calmed him.  

The storm meant at least that Senri was enraged, so perhaps you weren’t dead yet.  He hoped you hadn’t succumbed to the injuries Jungkook said you had gained from the prince’s attack.  Jimin felt guilty.

He had given you his name, both of them and he kept allowing you to come back.  He didn’t push you away or tell you that you weren’t allowed down in this cell anymore, he just kept letting you back in. Soon, he grew to expect it.  He anticipated your visits and looked forward to seeing you.  It was his fault you were going to die and he couldn’t do anything about it now.

By the time the sky teased dawn, the storm quit and at sunrise, the people of the castle and otherwise were loud.  Even so far from the castle grounds beneath the temple, he could hear them.  The people and the guards chanting.  Throwing insults at the traitor for treason and for betraying their dear, lawful God Senri.  He could hear the sounds of the golden shackles that no doubt encased your wrists and feet as you were held in your cell, waiting to be taken into the lake, held under the current by those same, heavy golden shackles.  

Jimin could picture your face in his mind.  Your eyes dull and lidded as your mind was hazy with injury and hurt.  He could picture your frail body trembling and shaking in fear and uncertainty.  Your tattered and torn clothes with your bruises and injured skin.  He could picture it all as you lay on your cell floor, too tired, too exhausted and too out of it to do anything more than just breathe on your own.

Then, the crowd’s sound changed.  What was once roars of enthusiasm at killing a traitor at dawn had turned into fear and panic.  Jimin straightened his body as he took to his weakening knees.  

“What’s happening?” He whispered solely to himself. He craned his neck to look up through the grate and at the usual, grey, overcast sky.  Then he smelt it, smoke.  There was a fire.  

Soldiers and guards ran through the halls as the fire that was started in the Northern Cell corridor quickly spread along the walls from torch to torch as tapestries burned and doors were now coated with thick, licking flames. Chaos erupted from staff and citizens outside the castle who had ventured from town to see the immediate execution of a traitor but were soon scurrying away from that same palace because of the fire that seemed unrelenting.  It was as if the fire had a soul as it spread and ate at the palace.  Devouring it wall by wall as Senri fled enraged to the cell below the Temple.

Jimin didn’t know what was going on and it was killing him.  He tugged and yanked as he wanted so badly to crawl out of the grate like he’s seen you do so many times before.  He wanted to follow after you, get you out of that castle- that cell- and run.  He wanted to go back to Eden, back where he knew where to go and how to get there.  He wanted to go back home.

Even if going back home like this- a half God or whatever he was anymore- he didn’t care.  He just wanted to go.  

The fire in the castle only erupted further when a column weakened and soon crumbled, shaking the ground as Jimin felt its tremor in his chest. However, it was that very earthshaking tremor that so very slightly loosened one of his silks.  He felt his right arm lower just a fraction as he looked up at the silk that now had slack in it.  

With a hard yank, his right arm pulled at the seamless silk. Pulling hard continuously with a warcry he heard the first rip and before long- Jimin freed his right arm.  Silk hanging from the ceiling as it blew with small drafts as his arm fell to his side.  He moved it, up and down, rotated it and bent it, all the movements feeling so foreign to him after having it suspended upwards for so long.  He almost smiled at the small bit of freedom he managed to achieve.

Then, his cell door flung open, or rather it flew right off its hinges.  Slamming open and then tumbling to the floor with a loud crash with splinters and small rocks following after its impact.  Jimin glared as there stood Senri, fuming as gold licked at his eyes.  The dull silver of Jimin’s counteracted the glare that would surely strike fear into any human.

Seeing Jimin half freed, Senri seethed.  He was the opposite of Jimin completely.  With golden hair and skin like the sun, tanned and shining.  The clothing he wore were robes of silks and from gold to brown he wore it.  Not a speck of white or silver on him.  Even his earrings were hoops of gold as they pierced his lobes.  His eyes burned anyone who gazed at them, but not Jimin; not Ventus.  

“Your pesky human sure does meddle far too much for her own good,” Senri spoke with a deep voice of someone who has been in power far too long.  HIs head was looking far too big as he kept wrapping the belt of responsibility around his waist.  A belt that would never truly fit him.

“She is of your kingdom, so do not blame me for the actions of someone who was neglected by her God.  You are to blame, nothing is my fault.” Jimin countered.  Though he was correct, Senri refused to be wrong.  His pride wouldn’t allow it.

“All will be well once we recover her body from the fire.”  Jimin’s body stiffened.  Senri, having gained some sort of ground it seemed, slyly smirked as the robes he wore fluttered as he crossed his arms over his chest.  “I would have preferred a drowning as planned, but having her body burn is acceptable as well.  So long as she ends up dead.”  Jimin’s remaining arm that was bound locked as he flexed and pulled in a motion so small Senri could not pick it up.

Jimin toned out Senri’s voice as he shook his head, trying and pulling bit by bit at his left arm.  If he could free his arms, he could find a way out of the shackles at his feet and he could go.  He could leave.  

His anger only grew, accumulating and stacking up inch by inch in his head as Senri just boasted and bragged about the human who was burning in the Northern Cells. Jimin felt sick as he shifted his footing, unknown to him the silver at his feet cracking slightly and the cube behind him in the shadows heating up.

Senri, after finishing up his little monologue of your demise, turned to leave.  Was his only goal to come and break down the door and rub in his face that you were dying, if not already dead?  Jimin’s jaw clenched as his brow ticked.  His chin tucked out his chest as he heaved his chest and with a cry and as much strength as he could muster, he grabbed his left arm with his right hand and yanked with the whole of his body.  His left arm strained against the silk as he heard the fabric begin to tear and soon Jimin had fallen forward.  

White fabric fluttering down to the ground in front of him as he landed harshly on his elbows and hands as he huffed.  Both of his arms bracing him as he bent over on the ground.  Senri, shocked, spun back around before Jimin’s eyes shone with a small amount of power he was granted back now that he was out of those damned silks.  Picking the door up with the wind he gathered from the grate, he slammed it back into the doorway.  

He had no time to try and collect his thoughts before Senri was busting the door down once more with an almighty heat and then an explosion blasted behind Jimin’s back. A surge of power began bouncing around before Jimin saw the silver cube of his powers jumping around with a rope of explosive powder strapped to it.  With a resounded sound and smell of heated power, it blasted and the cube broke open.  The heat of Senri’s being the perfect match to strike the cube open directly behind Jimin. 

The power that belonged to Jimin slithered along the ground into Jimin’s body.  Flowing into his hands, his knees, his feet and shattering the shackles at his ankles into nothing but dust.  The wind blew the grate clean off the top of the cell as the force of nature funneled into the cell like a contained tornado.

Senri’s body grew limp as what part of Jimin he had taken for himself was sucked out of him like a vacuum, leaving him breathless and on his knees on the floor.  Jimin watched with wide, pure silver glowing eyes as the power flowed into him like blood as he watched it course through his veins.  Silver and pulsing on his skin as his body began quickly reaccustomed to what was rightfully his.

Then, the wind calmed with a whoosh of a finale.  Jimin picked himself off the cell ground with far more balance that one would expect, and the pure fury in his eyes burned more fierce than any fire Senri could ever hope to create.  He took a step towards Senri as he raised his hand to his face, inspecting the silver dancing behind his skin.  

Senri, clearly enraged that his prisoner was freed, was rendered speechless as he snarled.  He was quick to stand, and shove Jimin out of his way, quite literally jumping directly up through the grate that was no longer there and running off.  Senri was spent, so much power sucked out of him too quickly left him feeling far too distorted.  

He fled through the maze he built so long ago before his shoulder was clipped by something.  Pain shot through the shoulder of the God as he stumbled to his knees.  The same pain occurred over and over again among his body.  Cuts on his shoulder, his back, and his legs, keeping him from moving.  The wind shoved him onto his back as it slammed into his chest. Soon, Jimin stood over him, the wind whipping around his hair and the white of his shirt.  

His hand was raised as small tufts of visibly white air blew from his fingertips.  

“Whirlwind Sickles are something I suppose you need to grow once more accustomed to.  Surely you can’t have forgotten how much wind can smoothly injure, have you Senri?” It was no mystery to either of them that even far back when they ruled together, Jimin was the stronger of the two.  Favorited by nature and able to control his power and beyond that.  Senri stood no chance in the state he was in.  

Jimin took and placed his foot onto the chest of his fellow God, as he harshly stomped on it.  Jimin's calm demeanor was melting away bit by bit, stomp by stomp as he kicked and stomped and cut at Senri’s body.  Years upon years of torture and pent up anger and hate was being released all at once as Senri screamlessly took it.  His mouth was open as if he wanted to scream, but Jimin had sucked the air around him, leaving him in a deafening pocket so no one, not even Jimin himself, could hear his pathetic cries.

Jimin soon stopped as he moved and pinned the God at his feet.  His knees trapping his body as his hand gripped the collar of his once fine, not ruined robes.  He gripped harshly as he trembled and Senri just heaved and gagged as blood bubbled from over his lips.  

“I could kill you,” Jimin seethed.  “I should kill you.  Destroy you and damn you to the furthest pit of hell for your betrayal and ceaseless torment upon not only Kiah, but Eden as well.”  Jimin shuddered and shook as he just shoved the God’s head backward, knocking him into the ground.  Jimin’s fingers trembled as he curled them into tight fits and only punched the ground in place of Senri beat up face.  “But, I won’t.  I can’t.” His body shook as, for the first time in so very long, the sun became visible as the clouds parted for the first time in several, long years.

The dawn broke as the overcast dissolved, the light and warmth of it spilling onto Jimin’s shoulders.  “Y/n, valued life.  She loathed you with every fiber of her body, but she would never wish you or any other being dead.  She wouldn’t want me to kill you, even if you deserve it.”  Jimin pushed himself off Senri’s body as it lay motionless on the ground, twitching slightly.  

From around his body began to form small ropes of magic, encircling him before his body disappeared into small crystals before those too faded away.  Jimin sighed as he looked up into the sky.  “The other God’s will decide what to do with you now.”  Jimin watched as the smoke from the castle’s fire burning high into the sky, the wind blowing easy now as the sun shone brightly.  A tear escaped his eyes as he looked at it: the sky.  

“It truly is a beautiful sight. Isn’t it Y/n?”

“My God, where did you even run off to?” A single man muttered to himself as he trudged through the silver castle of Eden in search of his homeland deity.  

After the burning of the Kiah Palace’s Northern halls, Jimin stepped forth showing himself to the people of Kiah and proclaiming himself as Ventus, the God who disappeared decades ago.  He explained the tale of how he was played dirty by Senri and was held hostage for the entirety of his disappearance and how Senri would most likely never return.  

In lieu of this, a declaration from Ventus to Kiah was given.  The Royal Family was to be prosecuted for holding a God prisoner and the castle was to be evacuated.  Senri was to be no more, and the land would have no God until a new one was assigned this region, so no one was permitted to be seated in the palace thrones.  When a new God came, a new family would come with it- or perhaps not.  That will be Kiah’s future problem, not his.

He remained in Kiah for weeks, helping the people fix their homes and spread the truth and news about the old and new God to come.  Then, once that was finished, he returned to Eden. He left Kiah behind him, no longer caring for his sister kingdom. The age long chapter of his long life was closed and he locked it up for good. It has now been two years since his return home.  

Ventus lived in his own palace of silver and his people in the castle town behind the main gates of his palace.  He rules as himself, with no royal family under him.  He would take any and all downfalls of the future upon himself and himself solely.  He would not put the lives of his people in the hands of anyone else.  They were his responsibility.  If only Senri realized that this form of thinking is what truly makes a successful ruler- maybe things would have turned out different.  

Kiah had gained a new Goddess, one that can properly rule without Jimin’s aid and has been thriving and leading Kiah into a prospering golden age.  Eden was growing well once again as well, thriving and full of life just as it was before he vanished.  His people welcomed him back and soon his castle was bustling.

With people and workers and servants and maids of his and others that stayed with him, he was cooped up.  He’d often take trips outside the castle walls to ensure his kingdom was safe and healthy.  He would get a smile out of the village children who marveled at the royal tunics he wore when traveling.  

Now, at the moment, he was sitting in his chambers, tunic lazily thrown on as he had returned from a trip from town not too long ago. The silver earring dangled from his right earlobe as a loop pierced his left.  His silver hair was pushed off his forehead, messy as glasses sat perched on his nose. Turns out he stared far too long into the sun that fateful day in Kiah, it damaged his eyes.

He sat at his balcony in a cushioned chair, his hand perched on his crossed knee as his eyes scanned a book.  He has become quite the bookworm to try and learn all sorts of things to help his people grow and overcome obstacles.  He refused to give his people the easy way out and fix everything for them.  He’d asist, but they had to put in just as much- if not more effort since they were human if they wanted healthy, long-lasting results to come to them. 

He loved them all dearly, they were his people.  However, they would grow spoiled and helpless if he were to always hold their hands.  He was there to guide them, not lay out their future and let them merely walk without harm.  People can only grow through harm and difficulty.  He and they knew that.  It was mutual respect they held with their God.

At his door, came a resounding knock.  Rather, an insistent banging was more like it.  With a huff, and knowledge on who has come knocking so early in the morning, he placed his book onto his lap when he shut it with a dull snap. He sighed and rubbed his temple, removing his glasses from his face.  

“You may enter,” he duly voiced, the grand door to his chambers groaned as it opened and in stepped his priest.  His priest was a handpicked follower who devoted his studies and time to praying and learning the way in which Jimin chose to govern and rule his kingdom and people.  They were the one person who Jimin allowed himself to lean on and turn to when faced with any sort of problem.

He was reliable, yes, but he can sometimes be so strict it becomes suffocating to Ventus.

“You’ve been gone all morning,” his priest scolded.  “I’ve been looking for you and from the looks of it, you were in town all morning again.  It’s nearly noon!” Jimin tossed his book and glasses onto the small, round glass table at his side as he kicked his head back into his chair.  The priest sighed.  “The fact of the matter is, I don’t mind when you go, just let me know so I’m not wasting time wandering around the palace grounds for a God who is not even here.”

Jimin chuckled to himself.  It was a funny thought.  His priest bickering to himself as he waltzed around in his garments.  He finally looked at his priest, furrowed brows and arms crossed as he was decked out in his official, ceremonial robes.  Jimin’s eyes widened.

“Why are you wearing your ceremonial robes, Taehyung?” Taehyung, his priest, sighed as he slapped a hand to his face.  

The robes were fine.  Silk and the purest shades of blues and whites all woven together with silver stitching.  The arms were wide and flowed with elegance as the top of the robe wove around his chest.  From the waist down the robe was cut off with a fabric tie that showed how the gown of the robe split and showed the white trousers he wore underneath.  His white ankle boots a final touch.  

Taehyung’s hair was a parted and was a blinding blond that bordered a platinum shade as he wore an earring that wove into a cuff and curled. A piece that accented his God’s style very well.  When Jimin first met him, he was skeptical Taehyung was a priest at all, let alone the highest standing one in this current generation after Ventus’s vanishment and then return. Though he was pleasantly surprised that Taehyung truly did know what he was doing and wasn’t some farse.

“The Dove sent by Yaieh has arrived.  They are waiting in the Moonstone Gardens.”  Jimin nodded as he opened his mouth.  

“Oh, that is correct.  Yaieh’s Goddess was sending one of her Doves to train over here and learn our customs.  I wasn’t expecting them for another day or so.”  Taehyung crossed his arms once more.

“Apparently, she left Yaieh as soon as possible, as per Goddess Sherea’s request.  She sends her regards as well, wishing Eden a long-lasting golden period.”  Jimin smiled as he nodded.  Sherea was an old friend of Ventus. The two had an alliance formed between them before his vanishing period.  He can only assume she had sent one of her worshippers in training, called a Dove, over as a symbol to once again have an alliance.  One in which he would not refuse.  

Eden and Yaieh have never been on bad terms, and Jimin is determined to keep it that way.  

Jimin hoisted himself from his chair as he walked to his wardrobe, quickly fixing himself up.  A shirt with a collar, proper elegant trousers and slipping on his finest boots he clipped the cuffs of his shirt before Taehyung had handed him a blazer to slip over his shoulders along with a long, fluttering cap that draped over his right shoulder only. The white cape was clean of all spots and hit the back of his calves on his legs.

The two men walked down the corridor as Taehyung informed Jimin on the type of person this Dove was supposed to be.  They were a woman, a freshly trained Dove from Yaieh and even Sherea’s top pick as a Goddess in training.  Jimin was impressed and almost confused as to why Sherea would cast off her Goddess contender to a kingdom so far from her own.  Perhaps it was simply for learning.  One cannot call themselves a God or Goddess if they know not the world in which they should soon rule.

However, it was with a small gentle roll of wind, a sound caught Jimin’s ear.  It made him stop in his tracks as he willed the wind to do as it did before and blow just enough to send the same noise to him.  It was only heard by him; the sound of silver.  Though, his silver was so different from the ones he is surrounded by every day.  This sound was familiar and warm and as he stopped walking, Taehyung did too, pondering why his God was delaying himself an audience with the Dove any further.  

“Taehyung,” Jimin queried.  “Where did you say this Dove was from?  She found a new home in Yaieh, but her origins?” Jimin’s voice was uneasy.

“Story has it that she came from Kiah originally.”  Jimin heard no more as he took off in a dead sprint down the corridors, open and closed walls at his sides as he zipped left and right to the Moonstone Gardens.  His favorite gardens that held the most beautiful flowers that only bloomed at night and their pollen can create the finest of spices believe it or not.  Moonstone tea is a particular favorite of his.  It’s a taste best described simply as bittersweet.  

He heard the silver rattling into his ears again as his silver eyes gleamed in a brilliant white before he came to a halt at the entrance to the Gardens, a woman’s back in his vision. His cape on his shoulder flicking forward at his sudden, screeching halt as he dug his boots into the grey, shining tile.

She was holding the bud of a Moonflower delicately in her hands as her clothes were much too foreign to be Eden’s.  She was most definitely from Yaieh, that is if Sherea hadn’t changed her style in clothing since decades past- he doubted it. That Goddess absolutely loathed change.  

A slit open-back gown to show the blessed tattoo of Sherea’s Goddess candidate on display. The gown itself was formal as the skirt of the dress cut off into two slits at the thighs.  Two pieces of fabric, one at the front and one at the back with the sides open. The top was an off the shoulder ruffle with open sleeves that cuffed around the wrist with silk.  Her hair was up off her neck showing a small, thick chain encircling her throat, and even a few oddly shaped scars along the base of her neck- almost like small fingerprints.  

Jimin felt himself shudder as Taehyung finally caught up with his God.  He was quite literally as fast as the raging wind.  Jimin’s eyes were locked onto the woman’s ankle as Taehyung touched Jimin’s shoulder.  

The woman, hearing Taehyung call for his God, gently dropped the flower bud that waited for the moonlight to allow it to bloom and turned to face the God of the kingdom in which she would be living for some time.  He let his breath catch in his throat as he staggered slightly on his feet.  

Jimin was in shock as he let his eyes leave the ankle of the woman and look into her eyes.  They were even more captivating than the silver anklet tied around her skin, one that most certainly belonged to Jimin.

“Y/n?”  Jimin called out towards you as Taehyung looked back and forth between you both.

“It’s been a long time I hope you haven’t forgotten me, I have a lot of questions about Eden. So, how many questions may I be allowed to ask you, God Ventus?”  You asked with a smile.

Jimin choked as he stepped into the garden, toe to toe with you as he wasted no time in throwing his arms over your shoulders and crushing you to him.  Taehyung rolled his eyes, as he turned his back- ignoring the improper gesture just this one time. You just gasped as the sudden action.  

“You get three questions, metal worker.”

“That’s Goddess in training to you, Jimin.”

a/n: REVAMPED AND BETTER THAN EVER BABy (pls I took 3 days editing this I wanna cry oof) 

[theangrypokemaniac]

I followed you for the pics and gifs but I didn't know why you were so annoying till I saw the username. Btw have you ever seen Digimon? Because evolutions are supposed to have SOME resemblance to their own species. An Articuno cannot evolve into a Cubone for example.

Oh, you smooth-talking nonny.

I'm glad you like the pictures and GIFS. You're welcome to any that take your fancy.

The clue is in the name, flower. I'm not 'The Perfectly-Contented-With-How-Things-Are-Thank-You-Very-Much Pokémaniac'. My chosen nom de guerre does warn the reader of what awaits.

I don't intend to annoy you. I simply speak as I find. If you don't like it, rest assured the matters I complain about are punishment enough for me.

I'm from a wave of fan in which many found Johto substandard. Compared to them I'm quite mild. I appear to be the one naysayer because everyone who thinks like me is mostly gone.

Always remember that the series you enjoy only came about via the destruction of ours, and, in turn, your day will come too.

If you're still a fan ten years from now, you'll have watched all the things you love the most shredded, whilst the next generation will sing its praises.

You will not comprehend the appeal, they won't understand your resentment. Think of me then.  

Yes I have seen Digimon. Not that I know what that has to do with it. I mean, Gatomon doesn't resemble Angewomon, nor Gomamon to Ikkakumon, and so on.

The point is these aren't evolutions in the correct sense. Were they from the same generation, it's all well and good to display similarity, not that it's a given (Magikarp and Gyarados, Flaafy and Ampharos etc.), but when there's a gap of years, even decades, between the original and a new one suddenly materialising from the ether, it's silly to pretend there's a connection.

They just weren't built to have belated relatives superglued into their D.N.A., but it's become like bloody Buckeroo, with these weary beasts of burden constantly laden with yet more biological junk.

How on earth is a baby going to have remained unknown until now, if we're to believe it's a real world? Chansey's from Kanto, so how can Happiny not be there too?

I don't particular understand the logic of every region requiring a Pikachu clone, as if it's a necessary presence to draw our attention.

Pikachu was new once, but the rest aren't, and there's no explanatory relationship between he and them, thus why should laziness be celebrated?

When Pokémon are invented, it's in the mind frame of them following a fixed evolutionary line, so for example, at the start of Golem's life, it was on the basis that he came from Graveler, and Geodude previously, and that's all.

Do you imagine that Game Freak drew him, thinking:

Yeah, but in the fyewchuh, he'll have a fine black moustache, a 'tache I tells thee!

If it was such an inspired addition, you'd expect them to include it then, but funnily enough, they didn't.

The examples I've selected are particular egregious, since I'd hardly call them redesigns, rather blatant facsimiles.

There's less variety between these than there is with proper chains. At least they sometimes change colour (like Psyduck to Golduck).

If you'd never heard of Octillery, and I showed you its picture, and asked you to guess what it used to be, out of them all, would you immediately pick Remoraid?

No, I doubt it, but I bet a person with no knowledge of Pokémon could work out there's a link between Tangela and Tangrowth, since they're almost identical.

There are four generations between Mewtwo and his Megas: do you seriously imagine there was any prior intention to change him?

One Mega Evolution is bad enough, but two is beyond absurd.

Mewtwo is synthetic, and thus unacknowledged by nature, so how then can Mega Stones exist that react to him?

He's a recent creation, and unique, so how would anything matching his genetics be around?

Mega Evolution in itself is stupid.

If it's so impressive, it must be famous, so how come no one used it before Ash went to Kalos?

I accept that 'new' things appear every generation, but the writers have the habit of retconning events to pretend it's always been around, thereby erasing actual canon, such as pretending later monsters existed when Ash left home. If they do that I'll pick fault when I see it.

Remember the hysterical fuss at the arrival of Megas, the hyperventilating wheeze about it being a revolutionary concept that toe-tah-lee changed everything?

Well that didn't work out, did it?

I thought it was asinine then, and lo and behold, Nintendo eventually concurred, whereupon this oh-so dazzling concept was dumped without ceremony, but I expect it'll be back come Gen. 9 (Keenan and Kel), just as Formes (as it then was) were dropped for Unova and Kalos.

Once the close of an era arrives, the self-congratulatory attitude for birthing such sweet divinity vanishes, the 'precious' facet no longer matters and it's the next fad deserving hosannas.

Well the pattern has formed, and if I know they'll eventually tire of the ultra-amazing best thing EVA, what's the point in me trying to like it, when, as evidenced by their latter-day lack of interest, it clearly is worthless?

With both Megas and now Gigantamax, gratitude is demanded of the fans. Nintendo expect us to be overawed at being fed more of the same.

A big Meowth is still a Meowth, as in a twenty-year-old character. Why should passing off old stuff as fresh impress me?

Why should I like childhood favourites picked at and distorted to flog yet another generation of games that apparently can't stand by themselves?

Why can't they?

Who are these bastards in charge they believe they've the talent to 'improve' classic figures when they can't even invent anything remotely as memorable themselves?

Otherwise, why is it still Kanto Pokémon on merchandise?

If Mega Evolution and Gigantamax are so overwhelming, they ought to be independently successful, by which I mean that, at first anyway, only Kalos Pokémon should've received Megas, and the same for Galar and Gigas. After all, they're wondrous, so can obviously sell itself.

But no.

It's not Forms, Megas and Gigas making past Pokémon special, it's the opposite.

Worst of all, any region heavy on the rehash claims that as an excuse to skimp on new Pokémon. Kalos and Alola both have fewer than one hundred; you have to put 'em together to just scrape beyond the first tally of 151.

If it isn't an absence of imagination responsible, why is there such a drought? Why don't they conjure 150-200 Pokémon, and then add Megas or whatever on top?

Megas aren't even 'proper' Pokémon, so it can't constitute an overload. If it does, chuck them and retain the original ones.

How hard is it to come up with new Pokémon? Even I've done it, it's that easy!

It makes you wonder why they think we'll be happier with the familiar than whatever they can drag together.

When we do get different faces, they're padded to bursting with copies, like 400 Vivillon, as if that suffices.

This modern breed of writer just can't keep his hands to himself. If not practicing any of the aforementioned imitations, he's prodding the rest so all the males and females need tiny identifying dots or lumps, like lady Pikachu with a cleft tail, thereby undermining all the times the anime showed them as indistinguishable from one another.

It's as if they can't resist marking their territory by pissing all over canon.

[plantcore-posterboy]

A drarryish fanfic

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Alright alright I'll write in a journal. Uncle sev gave me this journal, to write in about my "feelings". When did he become such a hufflepuff? Well I guess since I'm meant to write what I feel I guess I'll start with a rundown of my life: here goes everything

• I'm a slytherin

• I'm a pure blood, but kinda like muggles..

• My dad disowned me

• My godfather (snape) adopted me

• My dad was abusive

• I'm gay

• I'm in love with a half blood

• I think I'm falling for Harry Potter....

Sincerely, Draco Lucius Malfoy-Snape

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A/N

I know. It's a cliche but I needed some drarry in my life. Itll go to Harry's diary journal thing in a minute. I'm not motivated tonight to write septiplier, I will, I promise.

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Ugh. Stupid. Professor Snape is making us write in these journals, because he got stuck teaching health and couldn't think of anything to do. So as he suggested I'll just list some things about me.

• I'm a gryffindor but was almost put in slytherin

• I'm a half blood

• My parents were killed by Voldemort

• I'm known as the boy-who-lived

• I honestly hate the fame

• The dursleys abused me

• I'm bisexual (I think)

• And I may be crushing on a certain slytherin ice prince

From, Harry James Potter

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A/N

It was a really short drarry drabble I know. But I gotta go update my wolfstar fics.

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Here is a much darker fic, much much darker

A drarry fanfic

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Harry James Potter sat on a couch in the middle of a cluttered living room. After school had ended, things had went down the metaphorical drain for harry. He no longer looked liked the strong, happy boy people had come to know. He had dark circles under his eyes, his checks were sunken in, and he was a good deal paler and thinner than he used to be. Harry got up after hearing a knock on his door maybe its Ron or mione.....no they havent talked to me in years. When he opened his door he saw the last person he would ever except to see at his doorstep. There at the threshold was a unconscious Draco Malfoy.

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A/N

Short first chapter I know. It gets longer and better as we go. Will eventually be drarry. Also mentions of abuse and neglect. Will the boys make amends?

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Harry reacted immediately. He took draco inside for 3 reasons.

1. He was hurt. Badly

2. This was an old schoolmate.

3. He could relate

Most people would just try to wake the person up harry knew better and let draco rest, he had to be awake for him to fix his wounds. How ironic is this. Harry thought darkly. Why was draco half-dead on his doorstep anyway? When had he started calling him draco? He sat draco malfoy on his couch, to asses the damage. Draco had multiple cuts and bruises. He lied down, even in sleep, like his back hurt him horribly. Harry knew better then to check without consent though. He also no longer had that malfoy-esque appearance, his hair was dirty and dissolved, he himself was a mess, and his clothes were torn and ripped in multiple places. He also appeared to have neat rows of scars down his arms. His arms.....they look just like mine.....great.....what a great thing to have in common.... Draco stirred in his sleep but didn't wake. Harry checked his muggle clock. It was 6 45 AM. Well he wasn't going to get any sleep, he decided he would wait for draco to wake so he could check his injuries. If he allowed him too. Draco stirred, this time he awoke. "Harry?" He asked. He used my first name......he's also badly hurt. "Yes, Draco?" At the use of his name from harry, draco broke down sobbing. Harry held him knowing what he needed "shhhhh it's okay." He whispered soothing nothings to him, before both boys fell asleep curled together, holding on for dear life.

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Draco awoke to warm arm around his body. He was content for a minute until he realized who said Arm belonged to. "Ha-..Potter get off me." Draco said, still unable to have that sense of resentment in his voice. Harry responded very carefully. "I suppose so, you have wounds for me to tend too." "You...you don't have too." "Draco, yes I do, your back seems to hurt you, you have bruises everywhere, who knows what else! Besides Draco, those scars on your arm need to be taken care of." Draco looked shocked at the last statement, harry responded easily, with a softer tone than before. "Yes I noticed draco, there was a time when I had then too." He squeezed the others boys hand gently. "Now can you take your shirt off your backs bleeding." "But....you don't want to see that.....I'm too ugly Harry." Draco said with venom "Trust me draco your not ugly...Not at all....please let me help you." Draco responded with a soft whisper of "okay" as harry worked to get his shirt off without harming draco. When they finally got it off, Harry gasped "Draco, who did this to you." "My father."

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A/N

There will be weasley bashing. Warning. mainly Ron. Weasley bashing none the less

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Harry gripped dracos hand instinctively. "I'm so sorry. I am so sorry." "Its okay harry, I deserved all of it." Draco said solemnly with a tone harry never heard before, except from himself. "Draco. You deserved none of anything that ever happened to you. I swear on my soul....but draco this is bad, I'm sorry but to heal this I'm going to have to do this the muggle way. Stitches. It'll hurt a lot." Draco nodded. Harry gave him a calming drought and a numbing potion. Harry gently started to stitch, or as gently as you could stitch someone. He felt draco tense. He wanted to lie and tell him that it was fine. Draco has countless welts from what must've been a whip all the way from his neck to his waistline. He stitched the worst of it figuring he could spell the less awful ones. "Are you okay, draco. I mean in general." As much as draco wanted to stay he was fine and was okay he couldn't. He couldn't lie to him, he didn't know why, he just couldn't. "No....not at all." Draco felt tears building up as he spilled the whole thing. "After school ended my father noticed how I didn't hate muggles anymore. He caught me at a muggle bookstore. He thought he could beat some sense into me. It didn't work the first time. So he did it again. Again. Again. Again......he then disowned me, not for the muggle stuff...because I was gay. I was thrown in the dungeons and wanted nothing more than too die. My wrists suffered for it. It felt good harry to have something I could control. I didn't want to be a death eater. I slashed my arms and the dark mark over and over. It just won't go away. I was starved, which I didn't have a problem with. If he gave me food I wouldn't have eaten it. I'm too fat. When I fell asleep after days of exhaustion I thought of the one person who might care. Even remotely. You. You know the rest." By now draco was crying. Harry felt bad for the youngest malfoy, or whatever he was now. It was harry who spoke next. "You told me so much draco, I need to tell you what happened to me. You don't need to hear it. But I need to tell someone. When I was young, I stayed with awful muggles, the dursleys and their son Dudley. My uncle abused me, a lot. I slept in a cupboard under the stairs, I was locked in there half the time. Dudley hit me. My aunt hated me. They called me a freak and for a long time I believed them. It's why I cut, draco I have scars that line my arms just like yours. Anyway eventually I was moved to the second room. With a cat flap for food and bars on the window. It was awful. After school ended Ron and Hermione left me, they only had me for protection. The weasleys hate me. And now I'm here. I'm also gay. Then draco over and kissed him full on the lips.

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"Im sorry harry.. .I shouldn't have done that I'll just go." Draco made a move to get up but harry grabbed his arm gently pulling him back down. "No it's fine, besides you need to stay, not only because your hurt but because I.....I need you to stay."

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A/N

I'm sorry I'm an awful person but I'm ending it here. I'll write another I promise.

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@louithescribe