#the thorn in my side the pebble in my shoe

[vestige-nan]

The Thorn in my Side, the Pebble in my Shoe: Ch 12

Summary: The main quest line in Mannimarco’s perspective, except that he falls chaotically in love with the vestige just as much as he chaotically hates them.

Fun stuff:  As always, vestige is gender neutral and physical features are not described.

The vestige waved at a bosmer working the vineyard, who gave a small confused wave back. "Are you sure you don't want to stop just for a quick wine tasting? I've heard good things about the vinery."

I pulled my lips up in a sneer. "If we stopped at every passing fancy you had, the war would finish before we reached Alinor."

The vestige's smile grew just a bit at my quip. "There's so much to do and see, can you blame me?"

"Yes."

The vestige laughed and it startled me. I supposed it was a good thing they seemed to like my thorny nature, because I couldn't pull myself to sweeten it even in deceit. "No time to enjoy things, only time for work then?"

My eye twitched, "I enjoy my work."

They hummed as they held their arms behind their back in a way that was both irritating and endearing (as were all things with the vestige), "How lucky for you."

I nearly laughed. Yes, it was quite "lucky" for me, thought quite "unlucky" for the denizens of Nirn.

"Tell me about your work." The vestige said.

"Wouldn't you like to guess?" I said, a smirk on my lips. "You seem the type to like such games."

The vestige's eyes sparkled and my non-beating heart froze, "Maybe so." The vestige tilted their head as they thought, holding their chin and humming. "You're obviously a mage."

"Obviously." I mocked their tone.

"But you're not in the mages guild," The vestige continued. "And you look way to fancy to be a contract mercenary, but not fancy enough to be a sapiarch."

"Ah, yes," I rolled my eyes. "The quantifiable scale of "fanciness". How astute."

The vestige wasn't hurt by my barb, to my disappointment. "Hmm... My guess is your undercover."

I faltered for only a fraction of a moment. How did I keep underestimating the vestige? I didn't let my expression shift, saying cooly, "And what's your reasoning for that?"

"The vagueness in your "business in Alinor". My guess is you might be some secret psijic or agent for the queen, or maybe you're apart of the dark brotherhood." They said with confidence, before their expression paled just slightly. "Uh, if you're apart of the dark brotherhood, you can pretend I never said anything."

I couldn't help the smirk on my face, "If I was undercover, don't you think it would be unwise to accuse me of it? What if I was meant to kill anyone who found me out?"

"I'm realizing that now. But!" They grinned, "I was just taking a guess. So if you are undercover, your cover technically isn't blown. And I'm great at keeping secrets."

I rolled my eyes again. This was the obstacle of Molag Bal, the hindrance of domination, and they're brashness was grating. "You are living in a fantasy."

They chuckled at my annoyance, which only made me more annoyed. They leaned closer to me and my mind was wiped blank. I didn't need to breathe, but it still felt like I was holding my breath. "Is there a place to stay on the way to Alinor?" They asked, innocently.

I couldn't move away from them even though I knew it would've been better to do so. "Rellenthil. We should reach it by nightfall."

"That soon?" They furrowed their brow just slightly, unaware of their presence, their heat so close—so close—to me. "Isn't that where the House of Reveries is?"

I tore my eyes from their neck. I hadn't realized I was staring at their neck, but fortunately they didn't either. I narrowed my eyes at them, certain where they were leading with this.

"We should see a show."

"Did you just ignore me when I spoke about your passing fancies?" I snapped.

They laughed. "We're already going to be in Rellenthil, it's not like we'd be wasting time."

"Nobles wait weeks to attend a show, and you believe they'll just let you attend without any notice?"

The vestige grinned and leaned in even closer to me, their warmth emanating from their skin. "I bet I could sneak in. I'm pretty sneaky." They teased.

Their expression was that of a conspirator. As if I was in on something secret. As if we shared a secret together. The thought threw my mind and heart into a frenzy, that they would give me something so hidden from the rest of the world. They didn't, they only shared a bit of fun, but the very fantasy of their secrets being mine pumped the venom that was my blood through my veins. I wanted every last one of them. I wanted no soul or being on Nirn, Oblivion, and Aetherius to know the vestige like how I did. I wanted to use a scalpel on their soul and extract the secrets the vestige refused to share with me. I wanted the vestige vulnerable with transparency in front of me.

This time, the vestige didn't miss my expression. Their eyes widened, but they didn't pull away. I was glad they didn't. If they had, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from grabbing them. Then, after my madness, my mind began to race. Were they repulsed by my hunger? Confused by it? Impressed by it? Did they gain further insight into me or were they enraptured with me? Did they recognize me? With all of my years in imperial politics, the vestige's true thoughts were hidden from me, and the fact that they were hidden from me filled be with an undeniable rage. Rage that I swallowed.

"I have no interest in attending such frivolity." Somehow, in an act with the strength of a deity, I was the one to pull away. My voice didn't sound like my own.

"I..." The vestige reluctantly pulled away as well, eyes still trained on me. Their attention soothed my anger just slightly. "..."

They were at a loss for words. Because of calculation? Fear? Longing? Confusion? I wanted to strangle the truth out of them. Instead, I just snapped at them, "You what?"

"I don't mind seeing the show alone, but you'll be missed." They smiled, and it was as if I hadn't stared at them as if I wanted to eat them alive. For some reason, I found myself growing annoyed that they moved on so quickly. It was better for me, but it left me uneasy. Were they going to try to escape from me the first chance they could? Or had they thought they just imagined it? Or perhaps they hadn't thought anything of it at all? I felt I was going mad. "But do you want to get dinner together?"

What? "What?" What?

"I don't know the cuisine here very well, so you'll have to decide what we get." They said, and I didn't trust them for a moment. "I imagine the seafood here must be divine."

"I didn't say yes." Were they going to attempt to poison my food? It wouldn't work, I was dead, but I would still be offended by the action.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." They said simply, and I was frustrated they didn't push harder. Weren't they at least going to ask again?

"Well, I didn't say no either." I sneered through gritted teeth.

They're grin widened, and I hated them so much.

[alyosiuscreightonward]

Dear Diary. Just recently I’ve admitted to being in a new journey via pharmacology. I’ve had to accept, acknowledge and affirm that I did my best and my absolute worst over the years.

I know that the only thing that has kept me in your life is The Beast. My late husband. I’m sure you have figured out how that came to be.

I think of you, Mister Palm Springs, often and I know that you have specific feelings about me after all these years. I’m sure that you have thought of me as a pebble in your shoe, a thorn in your side and you also know that there is not enough is of a salve or balm to make this herpes simplex cold sore go away and never exist.

I’ve fucked shit up and unbeknownst to the world, I’ve nearly destroyed myself because of the guilt I’ve felt since Winchester until now because I’m a douche bag. Yet I gave up so much of life simply because I wanted to be liked by anyone who could actually stand me being in the universe. Maybe so many people would have been better off without me.

I’m sorry. I apologize. I know that as Tauren, it’s true, I have no clue how you feel about anything. I’ve loved me some wonderful Tauren men who have dismissed me since I had the audacity to say something like, I was once in love with you but I know now that I was living under the delusion of mine own stupidity. Yet I have only one memory that has haunted me since it happened. You hugged me and you thanked me for being there that one day. I know that I may have been there for you and your family but I also know that I may not have been deserving of that hug.

I want to go to Henderson and see The Nurse. I want to drive from Austin TX to Palm Springs and once I do that then I will have made a complete circle of the US. Because I’ve driven from Palm Springs to Austin. When that happens, I’d really like to see you but I’m afraid you won’t have me.

It’s okay to know that it may not ever happen but regardless, do know that I am making every effort to change and make amends for my actions. I said something similar to another person who was born in April and he didn’t respond back to me since he knows that I’ve been faithful as that puppy and he couldn’t believe that I’ve carried him around in my heart for all these years. He like you just shakes his head in disbelief. Even my foster son, another Tauren, who I’ve known since in-utero just screamed at me for me loving him.

If you do read this, please forgive me and attempt to have a kind thought about me and do know that I’m working hard on myself and that even though Kermit may be another person who hates me, I’d be there for him regardless. I’d be here for you too.

I have my memories of the love of The Beast and our love for each other and I know that I may never have that kind of love again but you were always in his heart. I know that I will always have “The George Stevens Show” in my heart.

Wish me luck on my journey through this thing we call life and I hope that our paths will cross.

[pumpkinstabs-moving]

a playlist for the boogeyman of haddonfield,  michael myers.  main inspirations below.

stabbing in the dark  //  ice nine kills. A former portrait of perfection / Painted without plight / Now Haddonfield's my battlefield / Your kids won't make it home tonight / With a madness void of reason, I kill with every strike / I'll haunt you day after day / Knife after knife / Day after day / Knife after knife / Taking life after life [ ... ]   Behind this mask of hate / I don the devil's power  

michael  //  rob zombie. A white horse, ride on, a bloody sky / Murder on my face and death in my eyes / Tomb inside my head, the hell I'm forced to live / I gave you all pain that I had to give / Now I'm coming home

if i had a heart  //  fever ray. This will never end 'cause I want more / More, give me more / Give me more / If I had a heart I could love you / If I had a voice I would sing

hunter’s moon //  ghost. Though my memories have faded, they / Come back to haunt me once again / And though my mind is somewhat jaded now / It's time for me to strike again / Tonight / It's a hunter's moon / Under a headstone, sister / I'm dying to see you, my friend (ah) / Back in the old cemetery / I'm dying to see you, my friend

when you’re evil  //  voltaire. I'm the fly in your soup / I'm the pebble in your shoe /I'm the pea beneath your bed / I'm a bump on every head /I'm the peel on which you slip / I'm a pin in every hip / I'm the thorn in your side / Makes you wriggle and writhe [ ... ] And it's so easy when you're evil / This is the life, you see / The Devil tips his hat to me / I do it all because I'm evil / And I do it all for free / Your tears are all the pay I'll ever need  

[novelizt]

💣 ⨾ KATSUKI BAKUGO ₊˚.༄

GENRE ➺ drabble, fluff

SYNOPSIS ➺ he's a pain in the ass, but he's your pain in the ass (very original, i know), domestic life

WARNING �� swearing (it's bakugo)

AUTHOR'S NOTE ➺ he's one of those characters you hate... but then somehow end up liking the further along you go into the story. he is my "idek" crush, kay? kay.

 Katsuki was the most annoying bitch you’ve ever met. You don’t even know how you got from point A to point B, but some wonderworking must’ve happened because you were engaged now. Mutually, thankfully.

 Past all the shoulder shoving and roughhousing, it was comfortable. He somehow managed to wrangle you into formally following his bedtime, and you pacified him by providing a plethora of odd books in your collection. His personal favorite thus far was The Kiss Quotient; “it’s actually interesting compared to the other shit you give me.” He was speaking of a Court of Thorns and Roses.

 It was your duty to make sure some other random book filled The Kiss Quotient’s space in the shelves because your copy now sat on his bedside table for days he felt like reading it again. And on yours were the occasional sea glass pebbles he knew you liked looking for at the beach. They were usually blue but he was extra smug when he brought home an orange one once upon a time.

 It was the little things that overrode all the bad. The little gestures and quiet acts of kindness made your heart burst out of your ribcage every time.

 The way he’d waltz with you when you got your first house together. Sleepy due to work but content enough to have your limbs wrapped together against the golden streak of the sunset. It was the way he placed his keys in the same place all the time without fail. It was the pair of dirty mugs on the sink after breakfast, and your heels strewn beside his shoes at the threshold. It was the extra laundry you had to do when you moved in together and because he was away but loved to do because you’d check one more thing off the to-do list on the fridge. It was the kisses goodbye and good luck in the morning and the sleepy “g’night”s just before he slept in the evening.

Instances that go a little like this; “I’m not apologizing. Stop tailing me.” Then you’d proceed to do the exact opposite of what he wanted because he stole the last slice of pizza.

 It always felt like his hand was outstretched to you, even if his words didn’t completely match his actions sometimes. Call it intuition, but the guy was terrible at being nice. You were endeared by it but it gave you every excuse to shoot a petty insult back.

 All that aside, you knew it was the way he knew your food preferences. How he knew you loathed the Kissing Booth with all your being. How he knew exactly when during movie night you’d yawn and grow susceptible to falling asleep. How he could tell whenever you were hungry before you realized it yourself.

 Before you knew it, you had the Bakugou family recipe book placed in front of you like it was a menu. Him standing on the other side of the counter, poised in an apron and holding a spatula in the most threatening manner you’ve seen anyone hold a cooking tool.

 “Pick already, pipsqueak. We don’t got all day.” He ushered, and you looked back down at the recipe book.

 “I- Aren’t you supposed to save the family recipes until after we’re married.”

 “Would you rather starve then, Miss-Ethically-Obligated-To-Follow-The-Rules?”

 You stared and blinked. “Good point.”

 “Now, starve or choose.”

 That afternoon, he committed your favorite recipe to heart and you’d learned that his unrivaled spicy ramen was the latest addition to the family recipe book.

➥ day seven of the september prompts list ⨾ RECIPE BOOK ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

⌠ @novelizt 2021 ⌡

[aliaspen]

I can’t find the words to describe this gnawing on my insides

Somewhat of a cross between an itch I can’t reach 

And an ache I can’t find or fix

But it’s there

A tiny pebble in my shoe

Seemingly benign

A thorn in my side

Persistent

A mosquito's song in my tired ear

RELENTLESS

An injury almost too easy to hide

Under thick skin you'd think could protect me from everything

EXCEPT the dangers within

I know

A steady drip eventually leaves a gaping hole through stone

And in the desert the distant future is the least of my concerns

It is easier to focus on the present sting

At the back of my throat

In my heart

On my skin

And easiest to find myself stuck

In the black and white of yesterday

Not quite on a death bed

But still a little less than okay

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #1: Landslide

Words:  ca. 6,000 Setting: modern AU Lemon: lime Content:  angst Image: Link Song: Landslide - Fleetwood Mac

~~~

“Up the mountain, up the mountain,” Anna grumbles to herself, rolling her eyes at the swirling overcast sky. This town is obsessed with the goddamn mountain. Every time it’s snowing, or sunny, or there’s simply nothing better to do, it’s always let’s go up the mountain! “It’s so magical,” She huffs. “It’s a spiritual place where you learn things about yourself,” she puffs. Yeah, right.

She stops for a moment to catch her breath, icy air stinging her lungs and the ache of lactic acid settling in her tired muscles. Leaning forward, resting her hands on her knees, she shakes her head. “Magical? My ass.”

A few snowflakes flutter gently down, impossibly white. So white that they shimmer iridescent. Tiny rainbows. Sparkling like glitter in the crisp, clean air. Odd. But not magical. Pfft, that’s ridiculous. It’s just light refracting into different wavelengths or something. Whatever. Anna never paid much attention in science class.

She shovels a handful of trail mix into her mouth and grimaces - it tastes like dirt.

She’d forgotten how breathtaking it is up here. How green, how wet, how staggeringly tall the centurion pines and mountain ashes are, caressing the sky. The lush symmetry of broad ferns glistening with beads of dew. The rich, dense texture of crumbling mossy logs. This town worships the landmark like it’s the artistry of the gods, but Anna has most often failed to see the wonder from down in the city. To her, it resembles a shadow. An ominous, dark lump of verdant green looming over the town like a bad omen. Blocking the light of the sun and casting its cold, lifeless gloom over them all.

It’s a little dramatic, sure, but how else is Anna supposed to feel about the damn thing? It stole Elsa away.

The mountain is surprisingly noisy. It vibrates with a constant hum and thrum of life. A buzzing and clicking cacophony of insects and birdsong, the trickle of a nearby stream and the distant roar of a far-away waterfall. It’s refreshing after the deafening silence Anna has grown accustomed to. One-sided conversations, messages sent but not seen. Birthdays and Christmases gone by without so much as a card. The Friday nights they once spent watching terrible eighties horror movies together, wearing swampy green face-masks and eating more candy than adults should - now spent alone, nursing her sorrow.

The memories hurt now, like thorns lodged in her heart. Like the suffocating silence of a winter night, frigid cold air coalescing into the shape of Elsa’s absence. The lump in her throat swallowed down, now an icy lump in her chest. Numbing her slowly, over time, but always there.

Sometimes Anna calls her, knowing it won’t ring, just to hear her voice on the message bank. Just to pretend for twenty seconds that things went differently. That they made different decisions. That one thing led to another and led to another and somehow they ended up in a different timeline where she could still feel those arms around her.

It became too painful to keep photos around. Not just for Anna, but for her parents, too, when they visited. She could see the grief in the muscles jumping over her father’s jaw. In the wet sheen of her mother’s eyes. Even small gifts from Elsa became too heavy for Anna’s heart to bear. The little snow globe. The hand-drawn sketches of the two of them. The goddamn ring.

They are all buried away now in a shoe box under her bed, the shattered pieces of her heart.

Anna cannot go on without her. Not for one more day. So she must keep going. One foot in front of the other. Wood groans under her feet. She probably should be wearing hiking boots, or any kind of boots, like those real mountain people do. Her toes are already frozen stiff inside her un-grippy sneakers, but a wire grating keeps her from slipping on the damp planks. Under the bridge, crystal clear water ripples over tiny pebbles in shades of blue, violet, orange, magenta, crimson, all shimmering beneath the glassy surface. A technicolor carpet of eyes, blinking, judging, staring into her soul.

Anna gobbles up another handful of trail mix and washes down the foul taste with a mouthful of Gatorade.

Then she leans over the railing and stares back, searching for her reflection, for any shred of recognisable identity in the busy stream. But she finds none. The water is ever-changing. It’s more colorful than she remembers from childhood field trips, where she was most often focused on chatting to her friends and wondering when they would get to eat lunch. The pebbles swell and contract, almost like they’re breathing, beneath specks of golden sunlight and snippets of green and brown - the forest’s reflection.

Bridges are funny things. Anna chuckles at the irony - she is burning so many of them by crossing this one. Once she reaches her destination, there is no going back. There will be no third chances.

Not that there’s much left to lose. Anna lost just about everything in the divorce proceedings, the pre-nup made sure of that. Having gone into the marriage without much to her name to begin with, she’s basically back at square one now. Spat out, unprepared, to pick up the pieces of a bleak, solitary life.

It was a brutal divorce. The kind that ended with a financial attorney combing through lines of numbers, divvying up accounts and assets, right down to petty little things like lawn ornaments and kitchen appliances and DVDs no one had watched in years. The bitterness came as a shock. After all, there had been no unfaithfulness. No violence or abuse. Just two tired, burnt out people whose emotional wells had run dry.

She feels like one of those pathetic divorced dads from TV, alone in her dank, claustrophobic apartment on the seedy side of town. The ceiling drips in seven places, and the internet cuts out constantly. Without even Netflix or a stream of banal Tik Tok videos, she spends most nights crying alone with only the scuttling cockroaches and shouting neighbors for company.

“You two were so happy together,” her mother said, dabbing at her tears with a handkerchief, like a war widow. Like she’d lost a child. In her mind, perhaps she had. “Are you sure you can’t work things out?”

Anna shook her head, defeated, but said nothing. She didn’t want to answer that question, nor deconstruct its answer. Surely her parents weren’t so naive, so blind to the impossibility of it.

“We spent so much money on that goddamn wedding,” her father reminded her. His words sat cold and slimy in her stomach, like dead eels. As though she wasn’t nauseous enough from guilt already.

“Have you even tried couples therapy?”

Anna couldn’t imagine anything more humiliating.

“Just take the time to think this through,” they told her. “There’s no need to make any rash decisions.”

But Anna’s never been one to think things through. Making rash decisions is kind of her signature move.

That’s probably why she’s trekking up a mountain right now, underdressed, no plan, no map. No phone reception up here, either. She isn’t one of those mountain people who knows the trails. All she can do is trust her gut, and hope this endless, winding dirt path takes her where she needs to go.

As it so happens, it leads her deeper and deeper into the thick of the dark, damp forest, where sunlight barely penetrates the canopy. Up crude, winding stairs cut like scar tissue into the earth. One foot after the other, until it’s trance-like. A sacred rhythm. A heart-beat. Past more glistening streams and ancient trees eating into the path with their gargantuan girth. Gnarled roots embrace and struggle over and under each other, writhing like worms, searching for their homes in deep, dark earth where all life comes from, and all life goes back to in the end.

The path twists and turns past whispering branches and patchy bark. Spots of fluro green moss peek through a mosaic of earthy browns and blacks. Logs, rocks, sticks, the permeating sensation of damp. Life. The aroma of rotting leaves. Death. Ever-changing. Ever-consistent. Nature’s perfect algorithm repeating into infinity.

Nothing else has ever existed, or ever will exist; everything outside of this forest path is an illusion. The path is the beginning and the end and everything between.

Until it ends. It opens out into a clearing, and it takes Anna a hot second to make sense of what she sees. They look, at first, like peaceful animals grazing under the white-pink sky. Spaced evenly in a grid formation, as though in the middle of some kind of ritual. Stock still and humming with the current of the mountain’s soul.

They are picnic benches.

Anna swallows another mouthful of trail mix, barely chewing to avoid the taste.

She has been to this clearing before, once upon a distant childhood memory. She remembers the crude log structures housing toilets and sinks. The sheltered area. The circle of white-yellow sky above, enclosed by swaying trees. And the black bitumen of the tiny parking lot, freckled with specks of glistening snow. There’s something here she doesn’t remember, though. A new structure. A large box, made of wood and corrugated iron. It looks deliberately rustic, like it was built by hipsters. Approaching, it begins to make sense. She’s heard, at some point, that they’ve built a café up here, now.

The times are a-changing.

Peeking inside, Anna finds a gleaming metal espresso machine, vintage tins full of coffee beans, and a selection of fancy milks lined up into a rainbow. Almond. Oat. Lactose Free. Soy. Even macadamia - what a time to be alive! Behind a glass cabinet, small brownies and lumpy cookies lie on display. They look lonely and forlorn, all spaced apart, so tiny in their sterile home with tags exposing their ingredients. What would it feel like, Anna wonders, to be on the other side of that glass? Without secrets or shame?

“Yoo-hoo!”

Anna jumps back. Did- did the cookies just speak?

“Hello?” She peers into the cabinet, suspicious. “Who are you?”

“I am Oaken,” A man’s head appears from below, rosy and plump with a beanie pulled down snug over curly blond hair. His burly body follows behind, patterns dancing on his colorful wooly jumper. Little embroidered reindeer leap across his midline. He points up to the top of the stall, “from the sign. Oaken’s coffee and cakes.”

“Oh.” Anna appreciates having it spelled out, because the letters are arranged into words, but the words have no meaning. Like flebin. Or groonid. Or pallewallo. “Hi, Oaken. I’m Anna.”

“Are you lost, Anna?”

“I…” Anna assesses her surroundings once again. It’s all taken on a flat unearthly sheen, but she knows where she is. She has been here before. “No.”

“Zen what are you still doing here?” He has a strange, bouncing accent that she can’t place - maybe European. Despite the jovial tone, the question cuts to her core. What is she still doing here? Thirty years old, shitty little apartment, minimum wage job. Alone.

“What do you mean?”

“Ze roads are closing because of ze snow. Heavy forecast. Where is your car? I open ze gate for you, but you drive back down very slowly, and very carefully, ja?”

Oh. So he wasn’t asking about what she’s achieved in life. “I don’t have a car. Not anymore.”

Now that she’s stopped walking, the cold is beginning to lick at her cheeks and whittle its way under her skin and into her joints. She wishes she was wearing more than a hoodie and jeans.

“Zen how did you get up here?”

“I walked.”

“You walked?” His eyebrows jump in surprise, like two bushy caterpillars. “All ze way up here?”

“Ja.” Anna stupidly says. So much of her substance has withered away, and all she can do now is mirror those around her. “I mean, yes. Sorry, I’m a reflection.”

“Right��” he narrows his eyes, this strange coffee man, and looks right into her soul. Reading her ingredients, like a little vegan brownie, and judging her. “Zen I will drive you back to town.”

“No!” Anna jumps at the force of her word, “I mean, I’m not going back down. I’m going up.”

“Up?”

“Up.” Yes. Up, of course.

Seconds stretch into infinity. A flock of birds glide through the white-green sky in slow motion.

“No, no. You cannot go up,” Oaken leans on the counter with a knowing smile. “Only down.”

“What?” That’s back to front and upside down. Against all idioms and platitudes of common knowledge. In fact, for a moment, it feels sinister. Like the vaguely ominous prophecy of a shaman. Filled with double meanings. “What do you mean? Why?”

“Because, silly girl, once you go up, you cannot come back down.” He continues to speak about paths being blocked and snow banking up at certain points or whatever. Anna stopped listening. She gratefully takes the wooly jacket and hot chocolate, nodding along seriously, shoving the brownie into her pocket for later. But his words go in one ear and out the other. She’s heard all this before. All this cautionary advice about a point of no return.

Anna was led to believe that her wedding was an irreversible decision. A bed that, once made, she would be sentenced to lie in until her last days on this earth.

In the end, it wasn’t true at all.

“You don’t have to do this,” Elsa said back then with her eyes shining wet. Her hands clasped Anna’s own so tenderly. Trembling. The golden morning sun cast a halo around her platinum head. “It’s okay to change your mind. You can still back out now, if you’re not sure.”

“I can’t.” Anna felt like a devil in comparison, full of searing hot shame and carnal desire. She shook her head, not daring to look up into the heart she was breaking. “It’s too late.”

“It’s not too late,” Elsa said, “but once you do this, it’s a whole lot harder to undo.”

That was the entire point, though. To draw a line in the sand. Anna knew - or she thought she knew - that the marriage was the nail in the coffin. The burning of the evidence. It was the end.

When the big day arrived, Elsa was not there. Anna managed to keep her composure if only because she’d spent too much on the professional make-up job to ruin it with tears.

“It’s for the best,” her mother insisted. “It wouldn’t be appropriate, after everything… everything that’s happened.”

She apparently couldn’t bring herself to say, after everything you two did. Her parents treated the tryst like a random act of God. A natural disaster that had befallen their poor, unsuspecting daughters, like a forest fire or a tree falling through the roof of a family home. Their feeble attempt to make the situation somehow more palatable.

Every step down the aisle hurt, like treading on broken glass. Her face twisted into an obscene smile. The flowers reeked, pungent and overpowering in her shaking hands. Gaudy decorations hung like a mockery. Taunting her. All eyes locked onto her, hot as lasers. She felt exposed, dirty in her lacy white dress.

There was no comfort to be found in the sea of faces gathered together to watch the moment Anna would break her own heart. The earnest support. Aunt Delia dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Grandma’s big smile and head cocked to the side. Her cheeky little cousin Ryder checking his phone. Honey smacking him upside the head.

The vows tasted rotten on her tongue. With each “I do,” Anna’s heart sank deeper, deeper, until it reached a cold, lifeless place where no light could survive. Down on the ocean floor inside herself, she began to suffocate when the double doors of the church burst open. Heavenly light spilled down the long, petal-clad carpet from behind the black silhouette.

Elsa. She came back! She came back to fight for them, for their love, just like Anna always knew she would! This was it. This was what true love looked like. Marching down the aisle at the very last minute with defiant steps, just like in the movies. The crowd gasped and murmured as she reached the altar and proclaimed with a voice like thunder, “I object!”

Only, when Anna opened her eyes, Elsa was gone. She was never there. No-one was coming to her rescue, to lift her from this grave she’d dug herself. There was only the sea of spectators in their Sunday best. Coiffed hair, silken shawls and stiff collars. The groomsmen with their rose boutonnieres and bridesmaids all in green. The minister cleared his throat as he pronounced them husband and wife. It took all she had not to vomit in Hans’ mouth when he swept her onto her back and pressed his hard lips to her own.

They put on a show alright. This bride, this person in the mirror, Mrs Westergaard, was a stranger. A foreign entity, unrecognizable, with her features warped by bronzer and hairspray and misery all contorted into a picture-perfect smile. She wondered if Hans felt the same, or if texting his boyfriend all day had eased the burden of all this pageantry.

Over the years, Anna has searched for a shred of herself in the replay of the wedding video. In the designer clothes and luxury cars. But with every modern chrome kitchen renovation, every cocktail at high end bars, every dinner hanging silently off his arm at networking events and socialite gatherings in dresses that cost more than her childhood home, another piece of her was painted over, remodeled, reshaped, upgraded, modernized. With every botox injection, her feelings stiffened just like her paralyzed facial muscles. The woman in the mirror grew ever-more unrecognizable. A stranger lost in a strange land.

That stranger smiles back at her now, fragmented by ripples on the milky-pale water. Anna cocks her head, and after a few seconds, so does the image. She finds herself rather mesmerized by the details. Freckles, blinking in the sun after years of hiding beneath heavy foundation. Elegant cheekbones swallowing naïve baby-fat. Eyebrows reclaiming their original territory, after waxing to perfection, like greenery growing through concrete.

She nibbles absentmindedly on the trail mix, adjusting to her likeness as she adjusts to the earthy taste.

Her eyes are darker than they were - or it may just be the murky depths of the unknown, beneath her image. The reflection winks at her, and Anna gasps, falling backwards in surprise.

She is caught and embraced by the springy branches of surrounding foliage, staring up into the white-violet sky, heart beating like a war-drum. That was… weird.

The sudden sense that she isn’t alone falls over Anna. Pulling herself up with shaky hands, she gazes out at the aqua pond, suddenly wondering what secrets lie beneath the surface, beyond her winking reflection. Snowflakes flutter down and dissolve on the water’s surface. Steam rises in response, curling into writhing figures. The darkness at the edge of the clearing, between the trees, stretches on infinitely, creating the sense of endless void. As though she has come to a single, lonely oasis in a desolate universe. She shivers at the thought, and also at the cold. It’s not so bad now that she’s in this thick jacket that Oaken gave her. The hot chocolate was good, too, though her fingers have already turned red from the cold since she finished it. Her stomach growls, unsatisfied. Perhaps it’s time to pull out the brownie as well. Oaken insisted it would be delicious despite being gluten-free, sugar-free, vegan and organic. And Anna was in no position to be picky, with nothing to sustain her but the trail mix.

The brownie explodes in her mouth, a symphony of chocolate as rich and dark and mysterious as the earth on which she sits. It’s been such a long time since she’s indulged in something so decadent, what with all the figure-watching and kale-juice-cleansing before the divorce, and the penny-pinching after. Cocoa goodness floods her synapses, creating a feeling adjacent to happiness. Close to love. A feeling of safety and acceptance that she remembers from once upon a childhood memory-

“Just like a warm hug!”

“Ahh!” Anna screams and squeezes her eyes shut. It’s one thing to have a vague, abstract sense of not being alone. Another thing entirely to hear an unfamiliar, disembodied voice like a wet tongue in her ear. Bracing herself, she turns her head toward the sound and opens one eye first, then the other.

It’s a goddamn snowman. White and still with dead stone-eyes. Some weirdo came along, built a creepy-ass snowman, whispered in her ear about warm hugs and is now hiding in the bushes? Oh, hell no! This is not okay. Anna’s chest rises and falls rapidly as she gets her wits about her. She’s a little scared, but mostly mad. Remembering a few moves from a self-defense class she took way back, she’s ready to give the pervert what for.

“Hi!” The man speaks again, but Anna can’t see any movement nor can she determine where the voice is coming from. “I’m Olaf.”

Okay. That last part was unmistakable. Impossible, absolutely ridiculous, but unmistakable. The goddamn snowman just moved his crunchy, icy mouth, and spoke.

“What- what- how are you-” As the horror wanes, curiosity takes its place, and she really begins to take in the sight in front of her. The big round belly. Big bouncy butt. A distant memory resounds, somewhere deep in the murky depths of her mind.

“I’m great! Thanks for asking,” he smiles with a mouth entirely too big and hollow for his head. “How are you?”

“I- I- good- I mean,” Anna’s words flip flop around in her throat like fish caught in a net, “I mean how are you alive?”

“You made me. You and Elsa. Remember?”

“Um, yeah…” Anna does remember. She remembers going up the mountain, distant days so idyllic they feel like they’re borne of one of her childhood story-books rather than of real life. She remembers the car moving so carefully around those zig-zag bends, singing songs in the backseat, parents laughing in the front, before the family was shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. Making snow angels, sledding, building snowmen - or, a snowman. “But, you’re real? How does that work?”

“The magic of the mountain?” He shrugs. “The power of love? Who knows! I’m just so happy to see you again!”

“I- um, yeah…” Flabbergasted, Anna isn’t quite sure she can truthfully return the sentiment. It’s just a little bit too weird. “It’s um… Nice to see you.”

“But where’s Elsa?” Olaf rubs his chin thoughtfully with his little stick arm.

Anna opens her mouth, despite having absolutely no idea how exactly to answer that question in a way that doesn’t make her sound like an idiot. Luckily, before she can speak, Olaf makes a suggestion.

“Oo! Maybe she’s at the waterfall! You guys used to love going there, didn’t you?”

“Uh…” Anna’s face burns despite the snow and icy breeze. How much has this snowman seen? And how old is he, anyway? He waddles on stumpy little legs into the darkness of the forest, beneath the dripping canopy.

Anna takes one last look at the milky turquoise pond, the chalky white snow and damp earth surrounding it, then follows Olaf into the dark foliage. This path, like all the others, is vaguely familiar. A dirt track with ferns and mushrooms and mossy logs. This track isn’t like all the others, though. It leads to a waterfall.

Their waterfall.

“Oooh!” Olaf swoons, “This is where you first kissed, remember-”

Anna just about chokes on the trail mix.

“-Yes! Olaf, I remember.” It comes out snappier than she intended. She’s just exasperated. Jarred by his jovial tone after years of holding this secret inside, like a pin poking into her that she must simply grin and bear. She wipes water from her cheeks, whether it’s tears, mist from the waterfall, or a mix of both is unclear. Everything is exactly the same as it was. These memories aren’t vague and buried in her childhood mind. They’re crisp as the frost on the ferns, bright as the light glistening on wet rocks. Sensual as the water, bursting like her heart back then, pouring, gushing from all levels. “I remember.”

She remembers the first time Elsa took her here and kissed her like the world was ending. Or laid her down on a picnic blanket, on a warm summer night, and made her feel like a woman as mother earth bloomed into life. She remembers talking all night under the stars, legs tangled together, heads pressed against each other. Fingers intertwined like the roots of the ancient trees, finding sustenance in the deep dark earth. In each other.

She remembers how time lost all meaning up here on the mountainside. How everything lost meaning, nothing mattered outside of her and Elsa and their bodies snug together inside a tent, like the moon and the sun, like two planets in orbit. “Hold me,” Elsa used to beg, “don’t let go. It feels like I might fall into the sky if you let go.”

She wasn’t too far off from the truth.

Anna remembers the silky alabaster of Elsa’s skin, the soft tickle of her hair in the morning. The hot, wet sweetness of Elsa’s tongue, and the building ecstasy of fingers inside her. Oh, Anna remembers it all. Sometimes she remembers it so deeply and so vividly that it threatens to suck the air from her lungs and she has to burrow deep inside herself to escape it. Resist it. Force it to disappear until everything is white.

Everything is white.

Cold and slippery and frozen white. Heaven is frozen. Hell is frozen. Everything in between that ever existed is cold, slippery, frozen. Even beneath her gloves, Anna’s fingers burn with frigid cold as they grip the railing, blood turning to ice, crackling, crystallizing inside her veins. Snow obscures her vision like static, howling wind whips her cheeks and rumbles in her ears. All she can do is reach one hand up, move one foot forward, find a foothold - difficult with her clumsy, numb toes - and pull. Push. Reach. Climb.

Anna tastes blood. Her lips are numb, but when she licks them, the taste of dirt reminds her she is battling, struggling against the earth. A tiny worm stuck in the cold hard ground, and she is losing.

Were these stairs always so steep? Almost vertical? Did they always make her feel so precariously high up, helpless and unsafe, like a kitten in a tree? Snow blusters faster now, fast and violent like a shaken snow globe, and she swears the world is actually shaking. Crumbling. Imploding. Her hands are slippery. Everything is slippery. Her body is so numb, so exhausted, so heavy and stiff like ancient stone. She stumbles. Her foot cannot find a hold, the fog is blindingly thick and her hands cannot grip. She falters. She falls.

Heaven. Where else could this be? Tranquil and pure, no land below, no sky above. Only brilliant white clouds billowing and twirling all around. Voices of angels ring like church bells in a thousand harmonies, a sublime beauty her little human mind cannot comprehend. They’re singing about peace, about forgiveness and light in the darkness. Let go of the past, they sing. Open your heart and surrender to perfect love!

A single, lonely tear rolls down Anna’s cheek as the words saturate her parched heart. Searching for some truth, for some meaning in all these miserable years and everything she’s lost, the person she used to be and all the decisions she can’t take back.

As the angels linger on a long oo sound, she emerges. Shining, resplendent, a goddess in the mist. Bright and eternal as the moon.

Elsa.

The air swells, thick with unshed tears. Anna struggles through it in slow motion, into Elsa’s open arms. The warmth of unconditional love floods her body, melting the ice in her veins and the lump in her chest.

And there’s no more heaven. No more hell. No more clouds above or below, no more frozen fingers and no more aching heart. Just Elsa. Her first friend, her oldest love, it all begins and ends with Elsa.

“Oh my god,” Elsa pulls away, holding Anna out by the shoulders, and lets her gaze wash over her with all the force of the thundering waterfall. Sky blue eyes, impossibly bright, impossibly soft, creased with worry and, up close, faint lines carved by years of grief. A reflection. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Anna is stiff with cold, withering from hunger, and utterly disoriented. Battered like a leaf in the wind. But she is okay. If the world crumbled beneath her feet right now, she would be okay. “Of course I’m okay. I’m here. You’re here…”

Looking up and around again, Anna is pulled into a moment of clarity. It’s weird, this tiny patch of ground in the middle of an unending fog. “Where is here? Is this heaven?”

Perhaps this is what it took for them to be reunited. Death. Returning to the deep dark earth.

“What? No, this is the summit,” Elsa says slowly, eyes locked onto Anna’s own and hands still gripping her shoulders. She is all bulky and round in her warm, pale layers. Like a snowman. “Anna, what are you doing up here?”

No words could ever convey how suffocating the distance between them has become, the depths of her grief, of her need, how it drained her life-force like a dying star in a desolate universe at the end of time. So she simply says, “I missed you.”

“Yeah,” Elsa says softly, no longer meeting Anna’s eyes, “I missed you too.”

All the wind and snow has paused in reverence, hovering in mid-air to witness this moment. It ends with Elsa’s gloved hand grasping Anna’s own, and the words, “Come on. Let’s get out of the cold.”

They take slow steps. Gentle. Cautious. Qualities they have learnt through the harshest lessons. With the reckless abandon of youth so far behind them, they leave the small patch of rocky surface, and venture back into the thick of the fog. The sun is dying, and darkness bleeds into the sky. Against the blackness, geometric patterns litter the corners of her vision in neon colors. How Elsa can see through it all, Anna doesn’t know. Perhaps she is accustomed to the magic, transcended to godhood after so much lofty solitude.

Through the dark, fractalling fog, Elsa leads. The void roars, snarls and snaps on either side, unknown terrors and endless shadow. But Anna never fears. If she only knows one truth in this crazy life, it’s that wherever Elsa is, that’s where Anna is supposed to be.

A kiss tickles her freezing cheek as they approach a structure. Windows glow with golden light. The faint smell of wood-smoke teases her nose. “Here we are.”

The door groans on its hinges, welcoming them into a cozy cabin. Wooden walls. A crackling fire dances in the furnace. Everything is soft and safe inside this little sanctuary. Pastel curtains, a fluffy rug, worn old books and herbs drying on a rack. Photographs - or reflections, rather. Elsa guides her toward the bed and sits her down, peeling off her own outer layers and hanging them on a hook, then attending to Anna’s. Anna can’t seem to find her words as Elsa’s ginger fingers unzip her hoodie, unlace her sneakers, and push a strand of copper hair behind her ear. The touch sends tingles through her body. Her eyes fill with tears. Her throat fills with tears. The universe fills with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Anna chokes, “I’m so sorry. I made a terrible mistake-”

“Sh,” Elsa strokes her cheek. There’s not a shred of bitterness or wrath in her flushed pink face. Only perfect love. Light in the darkness. “You did what you thought was right.”

“I hurt you.”

“Well…” Elsa shrugs but doesn’t argue. She looks down at the space between them and rests her hand over Anna’s. The gesture speaks everything that words cannot. “A love like ours was never going to be pain-free. And I ran away and disappeared into the mountain for ten years.”

“You did what they told you to do. What they told you was right.”

“So did you.”

The mention of their parents dims the moment. They’d been trying to help, of course. To save their girls from each other. But at what cost?

“But you’re here now,” Elsa smiles weakly, “to… stay? I hope?”

Anna nods. She is here to stay. For as long as she is alive, she will stay with Elsa. Hot tears flow down her cheeks and drip onto the quilted bedding.

“I knew you would come back to me,” Elsa says, “eventually.”

Anna nods. Of course Elsa knew. Elsa accepted early on that her path would be the one less traveled. The one less approved of. Elsa pulled into herself, taking refuge in the quiet strength of their love, while Anna pulled herself in every direction trying to please everyone. They each had their lessons to learn, their paths to travel. As to what Elsa’s learnt in all these years of isolation, that will be another late night conversation under the stars. There are many to come.

“How did you know where to find me?” Anna asks, running her hand through Elsa’s hair. “Did Oaken tell you?”

Elsa nods, trailing fingers down Anna’s arms, gentle as a summer breeze.

“Did he use telepathy? There’s no reception…”

“No, he used the radio,” Elsa chuckles and motions to a bulky black device on a side table. “How many of those mushrooms did you eat?”

“I’m not sure…” Anna shuffles into the corner of the bed, consumed by its gentle give, evaporating into its textured quilt, overwhelmed by the scent of Elsa, and by the pull of exhaustion. She pulls the trail mix from her pocket and evaluates its remaining weight. “I chopped them up and mixed them in. They were super strong, though. I thought we were in heaven, back there. Heard a choir of angels and everything.”

“Oh no, that was real,” Elsa rolls her eyes. “It was the church group. They come up here, rain, hail or shine to do their worship. Crazy people.”

“Yeah, Crazy.” Anna closes her eyes and tries to recreate the ethereal sound in her mind, but she can’t. It doesn’t belong to her. “But I guess they’re just trying to learn whatever it is the mountain has to teach them.”

“I suppose they are,” the bed sags and Elsa is beside her, arm draped loosely over her waist. Lips moving against her forehead. “And what did the mountain teach you, my dear?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know.” Anna can feel them becoming one, unable to differentiate whose warm breath is tickling whose soft skin. Whose fingers are combing through whose hair. Limbs entangled like roots in the deep dark earth. Lips pressed together slowly, softly, desperately, eternally, with all the weight of a decade worth of words unspoken. “That we belong together.”

[fictionkinfessions]

Okay. Cipher and Finn were the biggest pains in my ass I have ever experienced, those 2 are the equivalent of a pebble in your shoe that you can't find but still feel.

But I still. Kind of miss them. Not completely, I genuinely don't think I could handle the stress of dealing with those 2 at my current point in life (just not doing mentally well at all), but their presence was sort of nice. Sometimes. When they were calm. Two souls incapable of getting lost, so there was no reason for me to take them away. And those two thorns in my side didn't want to leave. Not to pick favorites (I am) but Finn was definitely a lot more tolerable than Cipher, we had.. some nice conversations when the crown wasn't taking over. Cipher just tried to get into my head or cause chaos. Conversations with him were rarely enjoyable.

I'm unsure if I remember anyone else from bad end friends, but those two, I do. If we all met in the unknown one last time I wouldn't protest.

- Beast Wirt

[btsslowburnfic]

Chthonic Love 19

Series Summary: A Greek Mythology AU featuring Yoongi/Suga as Hades and reader as Persephone. Olympian ruler Namjoon has delivered you, Persephone, as a gift for his brother, lord of Death, Yoongi Chapter Summary: Preparing for the Masquerade ball and some adult time on the beach. 

Previous Chapter here

You stretched your hand out along the walls. You had been cultivating the vines for a few weeks now; their tendrils weaving along the Palace corridors. The red was a stark contrast to the black walls. Excellent. Your dress pooled behind you as you stopped to admire your work. The ball would be in a week; there was still so much to do. You heard a gentle clacking against the floor and knew it would be Yoongi. The servants all wore soft shoes. You waited, petting the vines.

“It looks great,” He said, wrapping an arm around your waist and gently pressing a kiss against your temple. He still couldn’t believe he could just do that.

“Thank you. Not too over the top?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No. But, we do need to talk about the palm trees.” He moved away slightly and held up your cloak with his other hand. “Are you coming?” 

You faced him and allowed him to fasten the cloak around your neck. His fingers gently touched your throat, causing you to blush slightly. 

“Of course,” you grabbed his hand as the two of you walked through the Great Hall and towards the exit. The walls of the Great Hall had been lined with Chrysanthemums and orchids. Staff had begun to sit out tables for the reception area. “What’s wrong with the palm trees? They looked great yesterday.”

Yoongi smiled. “ They look beautiful. It’s just. I don’t want people thinking of the Underworld as a vacation destination. Palm trees give it that impression.”

You feigned surprise, knowing he was right. “I’m sure the dead people and spiders will change their mind, don’t worry.” You teased as the two of you took the cavern path today. The cave glittered with your phosphorescent plants. Your magic had flourished these past few weeks, uninhibited by any negative energy. 

“[Y/N], please. I do have a reputation to maintain. Dark. Scary. Rawr. Is that a flower crown?” Yoongi asked as the two of you exited the cave and approached the Gate of Judgment. 

Holly cocked his heads to the side. Each one adorned with a little flower crown. Well. They were actually quite large, but on his heads, they looked small.

“It’s three flower crowns. We played yesterday.” You responded, petting Holly’s side. “Didn’t we???? Didn’t weeeeeeee?”

His tail wagged and his tongues lolled out, happily.

Yoongi shook his head. “Holly! You’re only supposed to listen to me! Traitor.” 

Holly moved his ears up and down as though asking “What?”

You laughed. “You look beautiful Holly, don’t listen!” Holly wagged his tails.

The two of you continued over to the beach. What had once been a desolate landscape, filled with nothing but black sand, was now dotted with black and silver palm trees. Their frons a beautiful contrast against the greenish-grey sky.

“Ughhhh my dessert is covered in Palm Trees. My dog is covered in flower crowns. What is happening to the Underworld?” Yoongi lamented.

“You invited a Spring Goddess to live here, remember?” You giggled and kissed him on the cheek.

“Hmm...I suppose I did, didn’t I?” He turned to face you, cupping your face in his hands as he pressed his lips against yours. These past few weeks had been full of moments like these:the two of you not being able to get enough of each other. 

The sound of your lips leaving his made a slight sound. You turned and faced the palm trees.  “All right. I see what you mean. It does look almost tropical. So would you like menacing thorn trees? Some sad looking willows? Fly traps?”

He stepped behind you, moving your hair over so he had direct access to your ear. “I like the palm trees. After the party you can put them back. I don’t care if the dead people see them, it would probably comfort them actually. But for the other Gods and Goddesses, we do need to give off a more menacing, “hey don’t try to overthrow me” vibe.” He moved so he was next to you. “We've been at relative peace for centuries, but it’s always tenuous at best. Especially when you get  a group of Olympians together.” 

You put your hands on your hips, knowing he was right. “Ok Ok. May I?” You asked him, turning to him with your hands out. You always asked before you borrowed any of his magic to amplify yours.  Yoongi nodded and extended his hands.  You took them and began to use your magic to change the landscape. 

The palm trees began swaying and eventually became dust, their remnants blowing out across the Stygian Sea. The sand and black pebbles rose up and took new form, twisting into rigid thorny patches and brambles. They were three times the height of Yoongi. You wanted to make sure they looked impenetrable. This went on for several minutes before you began to get tired. Yoongi could tell before you and he yanked his hands away, causing an immediate loss of your power. You doubled over.

Yoongi caught you as you fell forward, placing his arm around you for support. “I’m sorry [Y/N], can’t you tell when you’ve used almost all your magic?”

You were breathing heavily, “No. Thanks for stopping me. It’s hard for me to tell when you’re amplifying” You stood up slowly. “Your power is like an ocean. Mine is like a well.”

Yoongi looked at you with concern. He barely felt a dip on his power when you borrowed some, but it seemed to always take an extra toll on you. He took off his cloak and placed it on the sand. He sat down on it to keep it from blowing away.  He spread his legs into a V and gestured for you to sit down in between them. “Come here.” He extended his hard to you.

Taking it, you sat down in between his legs, allowing him to wrap his arms around you. “You did a great job. Spiky trees look great.”

“Thanks. I’m thinking we can make a decorative path through it tomorrow. Guests will need to arrive at the castle by going through it.  I’ll need a fountain though. I can’t make one of those.”

“That’s a great idea. I’ll get you a fountain.” Yoongi said, resting his chin on your shoulder. He looked out along the horizon where the Stygian sea met the sky. He would get you anything you wanted. These past few weeks had been the best of his life.  

“Thanks.” You said quietly, enjoying the lull of the waves and the feeling of your body pressed up against his. The two of you sat in silence for several minutes. 

“You going to fall asleep?” He asked, pressing a kiss against your collarbone. Your whole body shivered.

A throaty laugh escaped you, “Not if you keep doing that.” You teased.

“Oh?” He responded, taking that as an invitation to continue. He placed another kiss along your collarbone and then moved up towards your neck. A soft moan escaped your lips.  He switched it to a gentle sucking motion.

“Yoongiiii…” You said quietly.

“Mmmm?” You heard and felt vibrate against you.

You turned around more, causing him to remove himself. You found his lips with yours and the two of you commenced kissing once again. You felt his hand slowly pull up your dress as though asking permission. You helped him, quickly pulling it up more so the fabric rested against your thighs. You had never been so glad that the shore was completely desolate. Yoongi’s hand rubbed against your thigh. 

“Is this ok?” He asked, pausing his kiss for a moment. 

“Yes,” you breathily agreed and resumed kissing him.

 His hand kept teasing around your panties. It took a great deal of self-restraint not to push yourself up against his hand. But you tried to remain grounded as you felt his hardness pressing against you from behind. You couldn’t believe that he felt this way about you. You felt so lucky.

Yoongi finally worked up the courage to hook a finger inside the side of your panties, gently feeling his way around. He was so afraid of messing this up, or doing the wrong thing. “Still good?” He asked, his voice sounding more like a growl at this point.

“Uh-huh,” you managed to groan out as Yoongi had started to draw circles around your clit.

He scissored his fingers on either side of your clit, causing you to shudder.

“So sensitive. Lean back a bit,” He wigged back with you following, relaxing up against him. You put your legs up, bending your knees and causing the fabric of your dress to become even more pushed up. You felt him gently explore your entrance, before pressing a finger inside of you. “Fuck.” You let out.

“All in good time,” He teased, his breath on your neck feeling extra hot.

He added a second finger, pumping them in and out while his thumb circled around your clit. Yoongi pressed kisses along your neck, alternating with sucking. You wished he was sucking something else, you found yourself thinking. “I could take you on the beach. Right here,” Yoongi said, beginning to feel the strain of himself pushing up against his pants. He wanted you so badly.

“Yes. Yes.” You found yourself saying. Yoongi removed his hand as you turned around to face him. You instantly connected your lips and straddled him, taking him by surprise. You felt him smile, as you kissed him. He reached a hand down the front of your dress, gently kneading your breast. You felt his erection pressing into you, causing you to grind down on him. 

He pulled away. “You are so beautiful.”

You smiled and ran a hand through his hair. You saw his eyes move from your face to the horizon. His smile dropped. “Fuck.” 

You turned around and saw the last remnants of the green light flash and the ships sailing on the horizon. You looked up to the sky and started laughing. “Ughhhh we lost track of time.” Yoongi rested his head against your chest for a minute. 

“Dammit.” You heard him say slowly as he pulled away, his face suddenly red.

You looked down and retied your bodice so your boobs wouldn’t flop out. “Hey, we can continue this later.” You stood up, fluffing your skirt back out.

Yoongi sat there for another minute, willing his hardness away. It barely worked but alas, the dead never stopped arriving. Death waited for no one. Even the Lord of the Underworld’s sex life.

NEXT CHAPTER

[moonchildsaurora]

Garden of Words

✤ prince/king!Yunho x tailor!reader ✤ genre: Prince AU // angst, fluff ✤ t/w: sfw, lots of bittersweetness, rated PG ✤ count: 3.5k+ ✤ [ part 2 ] of Lacuna miniseries

a/n - look, when I was writing my plan out for this, my notes only centered around the garden scene. . .and here we are 3000+ words later hahahaaaaaa, this is what happens when the mind goes “what if” and gets invested in the before/after rather than just the now 😔 one day I’ll be able to write shorter, sweeter pieces but today isn’t the day. I’d like to whole-heartedly thank anyone who reads through this entire piece, for your time and hopefully it was worth it. Also I’ve decided to have a little bit of fun with subtly featuring other members in each others’ mini stories, so see if y’all can spot who the next character we’ll be visiting next! 💙 P.S. paragraphs in all italics are flashback scenes!

“Excuse me, are you the fae of the garden?”

The watering can of butterscotch shade in your hands tilted back to pause in the sprinkling of water droplets on the freshly bloomed red gardenias. Turning around, you found the source of the small tinkling voice.

“Good morning Young Prince,” you greeted him, setting the watering can down on a nearby bench before making your way over. Sunlight shone abundantly down on the Royal Glasshouse, some areas where the stained-glass windows stood were bathed in colourful hues. Where the light hit your peachy robe made of georgette-silk gave an ethereal glow to your figure.

The Young Prince looked at you with wonder as you bent down to his level before speaking to him again, “and how did you manage to find your way here, little one?” You recognised the mahogany velvet capelet that wrapped around his form; after all, just two weeks ago were you tirelessly hand-sewing those dainty pearls that left a trail of constellations across the velvet surface.

“Hmm…I followed the pretty blue butterflies!” the Young Prince excitedly pointed to where several of them were fluttering over the yellow hibiscuses. Of course he would, he is the King’s son after all and his smile was perfect proof of that too.

Your eyes soften and the sides of our lips tilted further up, “Well they definitely have led you to a special spot haven’t they?”

“Please don’t tell anyone!” the Young Prince turned to look behind him quickly, as if to check if the coast was clear before taking a few shy steps closer to you. He brought up his little hands to cup them around his mouth and anticipating that he was going to whisper, you leaned in with a listening ear. 

“I’m not supposed to come here on my own but Father brings me here sometimes and always tells me that the flowers here are most happy because of the fae who cares for them. I wanted to meet the fae because they never are around when Father and I are here.”

With great effort you suppressed the giggles that threatened to spill out, not wanting the Young Prince to think that you were laughing at him but rather at how adorable of a pout he formed by the end of whispering his little secret to you.

“Who told you that you couldn’t come here by yourself?”

“Everyone says that this glasshouse is Father’s most favourite and no one should come in without him saying ok. Even Mother doesn’t come here.”

Now it was all starting to make more sense to you, trust him to give you a title like fae of the garden. Letting out a gentle sigh, you gave the Young Prince a reassuring smile and held out your pinky.

“I promise not to tell, if you don’t.”

His eyes sparkled immediately as his little pinky was quick to curl around yours, “Oh thank you great fae!”

The soft spot in your heart grew once more.

“Would you like to see what fresh blooms will greet us today, Young Prince?” 

The initial shyness he had melted away and the eager tug on your hands with a delighted laugh was a clear answer to your question. You let him lead you down the cobblestone pathway, patiently answering his questions whenever he’d point out flowers to you along the walk.  

“Ah! Father’s favourite flower!”

The both of you slowed to a stop where the sea of multi-coloured freesias clustered, like a protective circle, around the Juliet Rose bush. With glowing apricot coloured petals that looked tender to touch, the rose bush stood dignified in the middle. Oh, the amount of care and love that went in to growing these roses, it truly is the treasure of the Royal Glasshouse.

You could still feel the phantom prickles on your fingertips from when you’d accidentally catch on one of the thorns whilst pruning. But you also remembered the warm hands that used to encompass yours and those same hands fought many more thorns to build this piece of Eden just for you.   

“Shall we get some to give to him later on?” you suggested, having swiftly gone round the corner to retrieve the pruning knife from the crate.

“Yes, yes! Oh but won’t our shoes get muddy going in there?”

“Your Father didn’t mind losing many good white trousers to the dirt when he used to tend to the garden.”

“Father did that?” gasped the Young Prince, his eyes locked on as you moved with practiced ease. Still unsure as to whether he should risk a scolding from his tutor later on, he stayed behind the pebble border.

You hummed in reply, tip-toeing to avoid disturbing the freesias to reach the rose bush. “He drove the palace tailors mad with the amount of buttons he’d lose…but it was all worth it in the end.”

Your hands cupped one of the larger roses, observing the intricate layers of petals within the heart of the bloom. Just like the layers of memories that stirred within you in that moment.  

”Not again Your Highness!”

Shoving the tunic you had been sewing to fix up a rip at the seams to the side, you hurried over with a handkerchief towards the Crown Prince as he came out of the Royal Glasshouse. When he wasn’t attending his classes or royal duties, all free time was spent on the garden. The only rule was that no one but the Crown Prince was allowed inside.

“Blossom, we’ve talked about this. You know I’d prefer it if you used my name.”

“That’s the last thing you should be worrying about now! The Queen won’t be too thrilled to know that you–“

A snow white camellia was tucked behind your ear, distracting you to a pause. Your hand immediately reached up and your fingers were met with the morning dew still upon the petals.

“This is first of the few that have successfully bloomed.”

“You’re distracting me on purpose, Yunho!”

“Well it got you to say my name, did it not?” he laughed, crouching down slightly to allow you to help wipe some of the soil off his cheeks. Even as you continued to fret over his mess of a stained blouse that certainly will cause a ruckus over afternoon tea, Yunho looked at you with so much affection that it would’ve made the rest of the flowers blush.

“You are impossible,” with no real bite to your words.

“And yet you’ve stayed by me all this time.”

You weren’t just the child of the Queen’s personal seamstress, no, you were Yunho’s first real friend within the palace. He treasured the friendship, for being with you meant Jeong Yunho could breathe freely. 

The hallway had a woeful chill despite the midday sunlight streaming through the arched windows. Perhaps it was reflecting your current state of mind, your feet scurrying with haste to carry you to the safety of your chambers. Only behind closed doors did you allow your walls to crumble.

“It’s settled then, we shall entrust you with the task of creating the wedding gown. After all your sewing skills are immaculate and the Princess herself personally requested for you.”

Your mind kept replaying the announcement, echoes taunting the reality right in your face. Extremely confused at the absence of feeling on top of the world that you’ve been tasked with such a prestigious request nor were you jumping with joy knowing that Aethevintis and Cilon were officiating a strong alliance through a royal engagement.

“Every tailor in the kingdom would’ve killed for this job! Soon you’ll be making a name for yourself!”

The palace staff showered words of encouragement and your mother couldn’t be any prouder…

...yet it did nothing to ease the piercing cold emptiness that invaded your shattered heart.     

“Blossom that would be considered as assault against the Crown Prince.”

You threw an unamused look his way, right after you had nearly kneed Yunho in the face when he effortlessly hitched you over his shoulders. Without so much as giving you a valid explanation as to why he arrived unannounced at the tailors’ room, only to whisk you away from your half-sewn bodice.

“Some of us need to work, Yunho!”

“You’ve been working a fair bit lately, I simply miss spending time with you.”

Now that you have actually acknowledged your feelings towards him, you couldn’t afford to let such words feed the false hope; not when you knew there will be an inevitable split in your pathways. You had been purposely avoiding him since preparations for the Engagement Ball have started, under the guise that you needed complete focus on your commission. It numbed the hurt inside temporarily, but you couldn’t deny that you’ve missed him.

Terribly so.

“Where exactly are you taking us?”

Scrunching your nose slightly at the smell of hay and heavy worn leather upon entering the stables, you noticed the saddle was already on Yunho’s Friesian stallion. Had he planned this beforehand?

“On an adventure!”

Of course, Yunho may have forgotten to notify you that he was supposed to be at a council meeting at that moment instead of bolting out of the stables like your lives depended on it.

He needed to breathe again and you decided to run with him for once, rather than away. The faint shouts of his name could be heard in the distance but consequences be damned if it meant seeing his radiant smile be set free and feeling the steadiness of your entwined hands.

“Watch your step.”

For whatever reason you couldn’t fathom, that Yunho somehow managed to sneak away from his own Engagement Ball without getting noticed and now was guiding you through an alternate and poorly-lit route towards the garden. Had it not been for his insistence that this matter was of great importance, you would’ve dragged him back in to the Grand Hall yourself.

Not even daring to think about the implications of his future wife being left, having to wait inside and what should happen if any of the guests or palace staff saw you with the Crown Prince in this questionable state?

“I’ve already talked to Captain Song and requested for his guard unit to ensure this area is kept clear for tonight, so you needn’t worry.”

His warm hand that held onto yours gave a reassuring squeeze, dampening your anxiousness just a little. You ended up facing the entrance to the Royal Glasshouse, the window panes were crystal clear in the dark that you could see the stars that hung above in the night sky in the reflection. Admittedly this place hadn’t graced your mind in months and you immediately felt disappointment towards yourself for not checking in with Yunho over time about his progress.

As you were about to speak, your vision suddenly goes pitch black.

“Hope you don’t mind but it’s a surprise,” Yunho whispered softly and only then did you realise that those were his hands covering your eyes. Wordlessly you nodded and allowed him to lead you in, an array of floral scents hitting your senses almost immediately, indicating that you both have made it well in to the glasshouse.

Something brushed against the top of your head unexpectedly and you flinched back, hitting Yunho’s solid chest.

“It’s ok, it’s just the blue jade vines. I’ve got you.” You wished your heart would stop fluttering as you felt him shuffle around you.

“Had it been anything else, I would’ve been right out the door and never stepping foot in here again,” you murmured.

You heard Yunho’s low chuckling before, “And leave me behind? That’s harsh. Who would I ever share this with then?”

His hands lifted and you blinked a few times to settle the initial haziness. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the view; there were lanterns both hanging from the roof and ones scattered around to illuminate the interior with a soft glow, fireflies danced about unbothered and even with the vast amount of plants it wasn’t a suffocating space.

Taking tentative steps to look at some of the flowers up close, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Just when you thought Yunho couldn’t get any more incredible than he already is.

“Yunho, this is…you really did it! From which fairytale did you pull this garden out of? All of this is exquisitely stunning!” you said, gently running your hand over the pink and white baby’s breath bushes.

Unbeknownst to you, Yunho’s barely keeping himself together under his calm façade. His heart has been yearning to just go against all odds and take you away with him but that meant condemning you to a lifetime of hardship, in a world where tradition doesn’t take too kindly to change.

He would never do that to you.

If he couldn’t be free to love you openly, then he’d love you in all the ways that required unspoken words. He poured his time and love into creating something, untouched by others and solely from himself, that he could give to you.

Just like he already has with his heart.

So when you heard him call your name, rather than the usual term of endearment he’d use, it set off the butterflies in your stomach. He reached out for you and you met him halfway.

“Did you know these are my favourites? They’re still young but as they grow, you’ll see that they aren’t just ordinary roses. They’re called Juliet Rose.”

Yunho showed you around the garden, telling you of the different flowers and their meanings. Peruvian lilies for lasting bonds, bluebells for devotion, gladiolus for strength, chrysanthemums for happiness, carnations for faithfulness. You were so caught up with keeping track that you nearly missed what Yunho had said next.

“–for an undying love or you’re the only one…”

“What...did you say?”

A barely-there whisper as you choked the words out. The running water from the mini fountain in the lily pad pond was the only sound among the silence that stretched between you both. And then there was the feeling of dread again, that you needed to run. Far away. Now. “W-We should go, th– your future fiancée is wait–“

You barely made it past 4 steps before Yunho caught your wrist and this time, he wasn’t going to let go. He called your name again.

“Please look at me.”

Perhaps it was the desperation in his voice that got through to you, telling you that you’d deeply regret it if you were to leave. So you willed your heart to stay through the pain and to stay for Yunho. It wasn’t until you felt damp velvet against your cheeks that you realised it was from the tears that cascaded down from your eyes and soaked in to Yunho’s suit, for he held your shaking form close to him.

“I’m such a fool.”

“Well, I guess we’re both just fools very much in love then.”    

And then it dawned on you.

This entire garden being Yunho’s vow to you, which made you cry even harder than if he would’ve just confessed out loud to you right from the start. 

Your hands grasped onto his back, fisting the fabric as you buried yourself further in to him. Noting that he smelled of clementines on a cool breezy summer day, you ingrained that scent to your memory. Wishing upon all the stars above that time would stop and allow you both to just live in your little garden.

“And with your permission, could you allow this fool to be selfish for a while more?”

A light kiss to your forehead before your face was tilted up, sore tear-stained eyes meeting his matching ones. “You? Selfish? Impossible.” Keeping your voice soft, partially from not wanting to break the peaceful ambience as you clumsily wiped his tears away.

Yunho knows he already has been selfish especially with time, he can’t stop it but he can draw it out at least. And he’s selfish in wanting to take from you when he knows he cannot give back entirely. But if it’s once in this lifetime that he gets to have you before having to return to the cruel world of normality, then he will get on his knees to beg for your forgiveness for being selfish.

He pours out everything in to the searing kiss he places on your lips and whilst you never imagined your first kiss to be like this, at the very least you finally have closure. Swollen lips, rosy cheeks and warm hands that refused to part until the very last second. Words that you both have been meaning to tell each other over the years are woven into poetries.

The garden kept it all, kept your love safe and your hearts safer.

“Do they make you happy too?”

Just like that, you’re brought back to the present. “What gave it away little one?” you asked, glancing to smile at him before focusing on cutting off two large roses.

“You were making the same face at the roses as Father does when he’s happy…when he tells me about you and the garden,” replied the Young Prince with honesty. The blue butterflies from before came fluttering around the roses that you held in your hands, much like the ones that stirred inside you once more when you heard the words.

Some things never change, do they?

You started to take the thorns off the stems with the pruning knife before replying, “They do, and this is my happy place.” Once you deemed the stems were safe enough for the Young Prince to hold, you made your way back over to him. You knelt down and presented the roses to him, “What do you think?”

He cautiously took the flowers that dwarfed his small hands, peering in to the layers curiously and taking a whiff of the delicate scent. “They’re really pretty! I think Father will like them very much!”

“Shall we go look for a few more blooms? You can create your very own little bouquet.”

The Young Prince made little noises of excitement and rushed to hold on to your hand once more, continuing on the quest to pick more flowers. It wasn’t until awhile later when you were showing the Young Prince how to arrange the flowers he picked to tie them together, that you heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Father!”

If Yunho hadn’t already learnt how to harden his heart these past years, the scene before him would’ve surely made him cry with happiness. For a second he could pretend that this was real, that you were the one with the aquamarine diamond band around your finger and that he was coming to join his actual family for tea in the garden. His eyes never wavered from yours, even when his son came barrelling in to his legs waving his bouquet merrily in the air.

“Your Majesty,” you greeted with a formal bow, not missing how Yunho’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“Father, I finally got to meet the great fae! We spent all morning finding these!”

Only when you subtly flicked your eyes down towards the child did Yunho respond, quickly reaching down to take the bouquet from his son’s outstretched hand and bringing him in for a hug too.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here, sneaking off from your tutor again,” amusement lacing Yunho’s tone, “and what an intriguing choice of flowers you’ve got there.”

Father and son both adorning mirrored grins on their faces, “they’re for you, do you like them? And I’m sorry for sneaking in here Father!” said the Young Prince, little brows furrowing slightly.

“Very much, thank you…the both of you. And it’s ok as long as skipping your lessons doesn’t become a habit,” said Yunho as he ruffled his son’s hair affectionately and drew his gaze back to you.

“Unfortunately we must take our leave now.”

“How come? Do we really have to go?” The Young Prince seem to have inherit the puppy-dog eyes from his father, putting on the best pout he could muster as he looked between the two of you. Yunho shook his head, bending down to pick his son up. “Remember Grandpa and Grandma are coming by for lunch? Your Mother even asked the cooks to prepare our favourite dessert,” as if attempting to appease him.  

“But…I wanted to spend more time here!”

“You’re always welcome back here little one, if His Majesty is ok with that–”

“Of course, although I hope it won’t be too much trouble?”

You gave a gentle smile and eyes twinkling with mirth, “Considering he hasn’t lost more than two dozen buttons within the last two weeks nor requires daily stitch repairs, I’d say it won’t be too much trouble at all Your Majesty.” That drew out an apology and light laughter from Yunho.  

You walked the King and the Young Prince back to the entrance of the Royal Glasshouse, and just before stepping out Yunho turned to you once more. “Have you stopped by the pond recently?” the random query puzzled you.

“I thought I saw something interesting growing there the other day.”

Please go.

Right after waving a goodbye to Yunho and his son, without a care of making it obvious you hurried to where the lily pads floated at. It wasn’t hard to miss the bundles of serene blues nestled in the damp soil near edge of the pond. As you got closer, the realisation of what those were made your heart soar and ache at the same time.

A couple of tears fell onto the sea of blue petals as you reached out to cradle them with your hands.

“As if I could ever forget…my beloved King,” you whispered to the forget-me-nots that silently delivered Yunho’s words for you—

This garden is forever yours and so is my love, always. Never forget that.  

[vestige-nan]

The Thorn in my Side, the Pebble in my Shoe: Ch 9

Summary: The main quest line in Mannimarco’s perspective, except that he falls chaotically in love with the vestige just as much as he chaotically hates them.

Fun stuff: Small violent imagery warning, it gets a little gory in Manni’s head.  As always, vestige is gender neutral and physical features are not described.

One of the many benefits of lichdom included sleep, at least not in access, was not a necessity for me. Though even when I was alive, I had cast a spell here and there to bend my physical limitations and wave off timewasting slumber. That fool, Trechtus, worried that the prolonged sleep deprivation—even by magical means—might have a negative effect on my psyche. But there was always so much work to be done, experiments to perform, ancient lore to study, unsuspecting victims to murder and then raise.

However, this didn't mean I couldn't sleep. Just that I didn't need to often and for much less time than a lowly mortal. But while sleep was more of a recreational pastime, dreams very rarely came to me. This, I assumed, had less to do with my status as a lich and more to do with Vaermina not wishing to catch the attention of Molag Bal.

As such, my confusion was appropriate when I woke up with a start from my dream. Details didn't slip from my mind, nor did I scramble to rack my brain for specificities. I remembered it wholly, vividly, and its' palpability sent chills dancing down my spine as I sat in my bed.

I sat on the throne in an empty hall of cold harbor. Only one other living being (if you could call them living) was in the hall with me. The vestige, flush with exhaustion and trepidation, gripped their weapon with spent desperation, their breath heavy and their legs trembling. Bones, rotten flesh, and all manner of decay littered the floor around them. I didn't carry the same exhaustion as they had. If anything, I was more bored than spent as I crossed my legs.

"Do you surrender?" I asked, inspecting my nails with passing disinterest.

The vestige swallowed and attempted to slow their breathing. I could see how their eyes wavered with uncertainty. They had resisted so fiercely before, but now, surrounded by fallen enemies and not having landed a single scratch on me, I could tell they were no longer so sure.

However, no answer was not good enough for me. I wanted an admission of defeat.

"Very well," I yawned with a flick of my wrist, and in a black swirl of flesh and bone from the vestige's fallen enemies, a great flesh atronach crawled from the remains and the mort. It let out a horrifying roar, its' whole face unhinging to bellow, and—as if they could take no more—the vestige collapsed to their knees, their weapon dropping beside them and the hands falling to the rot beneath them.

"I surrender!" Their voice was hoarse with exhaustion and stretched with desperation. They kept their head lowered, as if they couldn't bear to look me in the eyes as they succumbed to my power. "I surrender..."

A thrill of pleasure traveled my veins like lightning. What lovely words that would sound even better in a tortured chorus of agony.

I waved my hand and—to my delight—the vestige flinched when the atronach collapsed into blood, bones, and death. The vestige's breath left their quivering lips in relief, but the tension remained in their shoulders as I uncrossed my legs and stood. Step by step, I descended my throne, treading unconcerned through the carnage. When I reached the vestige, their form trembling in anxious anticipation, I circled their kneeling form as I inspected them. Their eyes unable to meet mine, the sweat of exertion trailing down their neck, their chest rising and falling in steady acceleration under my scrutiny.

To have the object of my ire in front of me so was sweeter than moonsugar and more intoxicating than skooma.

As I rounded about them, I straightened my back in a poise to feign indifference, "Again."

The vestige stuttered only for a moment, "I surrender."

"Again."

"I surrender!" Their desperation seeped into their voice.

I inspected my nails, "To whom?"

"To you! I surrender—" The vestige inhaled sharply, finally gaining the courage to meet my eyes, and I was filled with a familiar hunger to bask in that gaze. "Please, King of Worms, have mercy—!"

I couldn't help but laugh, "You level my armies, steal my chancellor, attempt to foil my plans, and you have the audacity to beg my mercy?"

The vestige opened their mouth, as if scouring their mind for an answer to respond, but ultimately could not speak.

"Are you too weak from my risen forces to respond?" I mocked as I knelt to their level. "Pathetic."

The rotten blood and flesh oozed between the vestige's tightened grasp against the floor as they looked away in shame, their brow knotted and their eyes cast down. I couldn't stop myself from grabbing their jaw and pulling their gaze back on me.

"Do not." My voice echoed in the hall, louder than I willed. "Look away from me."

The vestige's eyes flitted through a medley of emotions, each more tantalizing than the last. Visceral fear. Broken will. Reluctant obedience. And somehow, despite the thrill of seeing the vestige defeated and submitted, it was their look of captivation that filled my head with delirium. Eyes so trained on me, mesmerized by my presence—my power, that they couldn't pull away if they wanted. Attention entranced with deep, fervid interest restrained by tentative fear, the vestige was mine.

They were mine, and they did not have the will to oppose that.

What an exciting thought! The vestige, the unabashed nuisance in my machinations; the single obstacle between me and godhood, was mine! Mine to own, mine to maim, mine to torture, mine to kill, mine to resurrect, mine to mold, mine to command, mine to use— They were mine.

I suddenly became very aware of my hand holding their jaw. The warmth of their skin was radiant against my cold, lifeless fingertips. How strange it was that a soulless being could be filled with so much warmth, and that they could smell so sweet in a room full of corpses, and that they could look so tempting after being so irritating.

I loosened my grip to just a few fingers tilting their chin up, and they did not dare turn away from me. I forced my voice to soften, a voice I used often in my calculative manipulations, "I must admit, no being in Tamriel has bested as many of my forces as you have."

Their throat bobbed as they swallowed.

"Nor have any slayed foes as powerful as you have. Are you proud of this?" My eyes twinkled in a patronizing glimmer, "Be honest."

The vestige bit their lower lip, "Yes."

My eyes were drawn to their lips, "You should be. You will make a valuable tool..." My fingers lightly traveled along their neck, gliding to across their collarbone. "After I take you apart and reassemble you."

The vestige was shaking under my touch and I could feel their pulse quicken. I would enjoy draining the blood from their body, slowly, and making them watch as I replaced it with venom... But I enjoyed the warmth I could feel from their blush much more. "I— Please, King of Worms, there... there must be something I can do for your mercy? Anything!"

I laughed again. "I haven't even began your torture and you're already trying to bargain with me? How charmingly naïve..." I grasped their chin once more and they gasped at my abrupt movement. "Don't worry. You will have plenty to do once I am done with you."

With a snap of my fingers with my other hand, chains of magicka snapped around the vestige's wrist. A new and exhilarating panic swept over the vestige as they tried to pull from the chains in vain. The dread in their eyes as they looked at me made me dizzy and I was overwhelmed with the desire hold their heart in my hands; to feel the pulse of their heart quicken between my fingers and to see the horror in the vestige's eyes as I bring it to my lips to take a bite. I wanted to simultaneously hold the vestige so full of life, feeling their warm hand against my cheek and to bathe in their boiling blood, singing as I let their marrow sink into my skin. I wanted to swallow their cries in a kiss and lick the blood from their wounds and I wanted the vestige to love and hate every moment of it.

There would be plenty of time to indulge my madness later.

"Please! King of Worms, you don't have to hurt me! I'll do what you want!" The vestige cried, their voice taut with terror and their hands pulling at the chains.

"Oh, I believe you." I held the vestige's face in my hands and relished the captivation that never left the vestige's gaze. Even in their terror they couldn't resist me. "I want to hurt you."

With the vestige mine and their expression consumed with dread and panic, I pulled their face to me, pressing my cold lips against their warm ones, reveling in the taste of victory and the vestige's tongue. I could feel the vestige heat up beneath my hands, their warm blood a charming tell. I pulled away just as quickly, my smile as bewitching as the chains.

"Do try to last long." I cooed, "I don't want to fix your broken mind more times than I need to."

I downed three stamina potions in succession just to give me the energy to deal with whatever deranged dream Vaermina and Sheogorath must've crafted together as a sick daedric joke (surprisingly less violent than most daedric jokes go).

I leaned against my desk with one hand and rubbed my temple with the other, groaning low and exasperated. It was almost the perfect dream, and I would have even thanked the lesser daedric prince for what I would've assumed would be a glimpse into the future, save for the end.

How insulting! Degrading! To think I would lower myself so—so—low! As to kiss, or even to think about—!

I heard the vestige stir in their sleep through their visage and my head snapped to it. I watched them, holding the breath I don't take, with furious disgust. Then, the end of my dream began replaying in my mind and I could feel my face turning orange at the thought.

"Disgusting!" I said, not to anyone in particularly, but mostly to the vestige. I went to close the visage with a wave of my hand, but stopped when the vestige began to stir again.

Were they having a nightmare? Were they having the same nightmare?

My face burned brighter.

My eyes were melded to the visage as the vestige's brow furrowed and their breath quickened. Something cracked underneath the pressure of my grip but I didn't care enough to notice what it was. The vestige looked troubled by their nightmare, maybe even pained. Would they hate it? Would they be disgusted by it like I was? Would they wake up with fear? Glancing at every shadow with nervousness? What if they woke up flushed and unsure? What if they liked it? What if they sought out the mundus stones—sought out me? They did say I was pretty.

The vestige's lips parted and the ending of my dream replayed and replayed and replayed; the taste of their lips, the trepidation in their eyes, their breath on my skin, their warm blood beneath my cold cold hands.

"Hey, you alright?" Some young breton shook them awake, pulling me from my own personal oblivion. The vestige inhaled softly as they woke, turning to the man, slightly disoriented. "Looked like you were having a nightmare."

I ground my teeth. Did he wake them up before they reached the end of the dream? I couldn't tell if I was relieved or furious.

The vestige groaned, rubbing their neck. "Yeah, I was... It was really weird..."

I furrowed my brow. "Weird"? What did they mean by "weird"? "Weird" as in "I was disturbed by the intimate nature of the dream and I don't want to be tortured" or as in "I was intrigued by the intimate nature of the dream but I don't want to tell this breton that out of bashfulness"?

"I know this is going to sound insane but..." The vestige sat up, stretching, and I was too transfixed with how their bones popped. "There were dragons all over Elsweyr!"

I blanked.

"Dragons?" The breton man laughed, "Come on!"

"No, really!" They asserted, "And one of them was good!"

I waved the visage off, evaporating it from existence. I downed another stamina potion while wishing I had picked up a bottle of sylph-mead somewhere. I didn't care if the vestige was bedding Molag Bal himself, a few days not having to listen to the ramblings of that halfwit vestige would do me well.

In the meantime, sending a legion of undead after Vaermina's cult seemed appropriate.

[hieludoboi]

Again?

A/n- I needed to take a break from my Daichi series, I want to be able to write it organically and not pump it out like some factory, so I decided to write this :)

Pairing- Tsukishima/Fem!Reader

Summary- Sometimes things fray, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be fixed

Trigger Warnings- Not a lot really, just a little angsty and a mention or two of just some blood!

Y/n sighed as she stepped past the cherry stained door frame. The bag that clung to her shoulder slipped from her grasp, clattering against a pile of heavily weathered shoes. She cringed, the sound of needles, embroidery scissors and plastic bobbins most likely becoming a mess of tangles and thorns in the black bag. She was tired though and left the bag where it was, practically kicking off her shoes. Her life was going pretty okay, she guessed. Asahi snagged her a spot with a well-known brand as soon as she graduated. She was doing something she loved, threading beautiful tapestries onto ridiculously expensive shirts, reveling in the way designer brands vied for her and her work. It was a nice change from home. Home should feel warm and open, that’s what her sister had told her. So why did her living room feel like a closet?

It was quiet, all the lights were off. There was no trace of Kei in the house, except for his messily piled shoes at the door. How long had they been living like this? In a limbo of bitter feelings? Coming home to empty rooms and dusty clutter on the coffee table? Y/n felt her shoulders sag, her body becoming numb as she trudged into the kitchen, the smell of sweet strawberry shortcake still clinging to the kitchen walls, a subtle reminder of the love she desperately felt for her lover. Love? No, that wasn’t the word. Being with Kei wasn’t love, it was comfortable and normal, mundane at best. There were no soft touches, no gaps of silence suddenly filled with bursts of airy giggles. Lately, her relationship with Kei felt like a construction site. Kei lugged around beams and barrels of concrete as he built up his walls, Y/n standing still on the other side of the barrier, lazily throwing pebbles at the infrastructure he had built overnight. She had stopped trying long ago.

Her fingers felt heavy as she pulled open the fridge. The taste of yearning coated her tongue, clinging to her throat and building a home in her chest. She missed him. She missed the way his voice would float with every chuckle, the way he’d roll his eyes with that tender smile, the dopey smirk on his lips when he would wake up in the morning, their legs tangled among cheap comforters and puppy like love. Y/n sighed through her nose, tired eyes searching the fridge for something filling, only to land on the cake she had made him sitting untouched in the back of the fridge. She had made it for him, knowing it was a favorite before she had to leave for a work trip. She would be stuck in Italy for a few days working on some fancy designer piece. Their relationship was in tatters, but she hoped that the sight of warm cake on the counter could patch up the gaping holes in the fabric of their relationship. How silly of her.

She racked her brain, her head racing along non existent horse tracks while a wispy detective walked idly by on the forgotten roads of her memories. Why? What had she done for him to just leave her on standby? Yet still, she couldn’t be bothered. They had fallen out of sync long ago, only staying with one another out of complacency. The house was big, and it was easier to save money when there was someone to share bills with. Love didn’t exist inside their four walls anymore, but climbing into bed with someone felt better than laying alone and lingering on your thoughts. The feelings were gone, but at least the sex was good, right? Staying together was forgetting, forgetting about their problems, ignoring the depression that dug at their intestines with bottles of strong liquor and clumsy kisses. Forgetting was better than remembering.

“Hey,” Y/n turned from the open fridge to come face to face with Kei. She had been staring at the molded frosting and fuzzy strawberries in the fridge for longer than she thought. Nodding a response, she turned back to the fridge, pulling out the cake to throw it away. “I’m sorry, I forgot about it. Thank you though,” Kei’s voice was soft, his eyes focusing on the black bag that sat on the floor, a frown tugging at his lips. They had loved each other at some point, Kei knew they did. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss it a little. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Kei questioned, walking into the kitchen with an annoyed look on his face. He had gotten home late after going to catch up with Tadashi at some little cafe after work.

“Tired,” is all Y/n said as she threw the rotten cake into the trashcan. She’d have to take out the garbage later. Kei huffed, normally, Y/n would be dragging answers from his lips with the claws of her questions, but today seemed different. Had she finally given up? He could feel a frown clinging onto the corners of his lips, but why did it bother him so much? They had never ended their relationship, just watched it waste away, hoping someone would cut the tether before they got married out of complacency. He didn’t know why, but the nagging feelings of change gripped onto his chest, begging for him to do something. What was there left to salvage?

“I’ll do chores tonight, okay?” It was so simple, but the small gesture was enough for her heart to fall into a frenzy of jitters. The look in his eyes was softer than it had been in months, and oh, suddenly his hair seemed brighter, his eyes oozing honey and warmth. Pathetic, she thought to herself. He was just offering to do chores, that was all, Y/n tried to reason with herself. But this was Kei. The smallest of gestures were always the most complex. He didn’t like big shows of emotions after all.

Kei watched as Y/n nodded, her eyes showing the way her mind swam in pools of confusion. This is stupid, Kei thought to himself, sighing through his nose as he pulled the bag from the bin, tying it closed before carrying it to the buckets outside. Doing the chores wouldn’t bring about any change. There wasn’t a remedy for a wandering love. There was no bait that could hook it back to their shores, so why should he even bother? And then he was walking upstairs to their shared bedroom, passing photo after photo of her pretty smile, tripping over the gift bags that littered the steps and finally passing the embroidered dinosaur that sat in a frame on the wall. A gag gift turned favorite by Kei.

He stopped to look at the cloth in the frame, admiring the stitching and shading that ran across its back. He could only imagine all the pricks she had sustained on her fingers because of that stupid little dinosaur. Kei couldn’t help the laugh that breached past his lips, the tender warmth of memory that climbed over the barbed wire around his mind.

Y/n had been working on some piece for a Tokyo based brand when she came to Kei with watery eyes and bloodied fingers. At nearly twenty years old, he never expected to be taking on the role of nurse. He had shaken his head, laughing to himself as he gently wrapped up her fingers, making a quick quip about the way he wraps his own fingers before matches before she interrupted to tell him she knew exactly how he wrapped his fingers. They had spent the rest of the night on the couch, Y/n’s tongue poking out from between her lips as she perfectly wrapped up his fingers. It was such an insignificant gesture; she knew how he wrapped his fingers, so what? But she knew how to wrap them. She came to his games so often that she knew; she paid attention to all his little quirks, and the fact that she paid attention was enough to make him swoon. Not long after that, Kei had become her first.

He shook his head, turning away from the frame to twist the door nob and step into their bedroom. Y/n was sat in bed, the only thing that clung onto her body being the oversized hoodie he had bought for her about two years ago. Why had they fallen out of sync? Things were perfect, simple and so warm. Why had they disconnected? It was, of course, because of Kei’s lack of communication and Y/n’s fear of confrontation.

Y/n looked up at Kei from the manga she had been reading, putting it into her nightstand drawer. Why did she do that? Kei wondered, pulling the glasses from his face and setting them on his dresser. Because you hate having the lights on when you sleep, and she doesn’t want to turn the lights on to read. It bothers you, Kei reminded himself. Lowly humming to himself, Kei walked towards the air conditioner in the room, bumping it down to the lowest setting and angling the vents to blow air to the left. It was a habit, ingrained into his muscles, something he couldn’t go to sleep without doing, but why?

Y/n thought the same thing as she settled into her side of the bed, making sure to leave most of the blanket for Kei. He didn’t exactly like a freezing cold room, so why had he been doing it for so long? You hate sleeping in a warm room, he’s always made sure you’re comfortable before you sleep, Y/n reminded herself, her eyes focusing on the glossy ceiling. Maybe they hadn’t forgotten everything.

“Do- do you think…” Y/n trailed off, rubbing her hands across her face. What was she thinking? Of course there wasn’t, right?

“Hmm?” Kei hummed, feeling the mattress dip under his weight.

“Do you think, that maybe one day we could… Fall in love again?” Y/n whispered, her hands fisting into the quilt they lay on. Kei looked over at Y/n, his face seemingly expressionless. But Y/n knew, with just one look into the pools of honey reflected almost every emotion that ran rampant in her chest.

Kei stayed quiet for a moment, eyes staring at the same ceiling Y/n had been staring at for the past five minutes.

“I want to believe we will…”

[unit-zero-two]

“When You’re Evil” - Featuring the Napoleon of Crime!

“When You’re Evil” by Voltaire. Check out the song here - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tn2FI-9v_zI

Text / Lyrics below the cut:

When the Devil is too busy And Death's a bit too much They call on me by name you see, For my special touch. To the Gentlemen I'm Miss Fortune To the Ladies I'm Sir Prize But call me by any name Any way it's all the same

I'm the fly in your soup I'm the pebble in your shoe I'm the pea beneath your bed I'm a bump on every head I'm the peel on which you slip I'm a pin in every hip I'm the thorn in your side Makes you wriggle and writhe And it's so easy when you're evil This is the life, you see The Devil tips his hat to me I do it all because I'm evil And I do it all for free Your tears are all the pay I'll ever need

While there's children to make sad While there's candy to be had While there's pockets left to pick While there's grannies left to trip down the stairs I'll be there, I'll be waiting 'round the corner It's a game. I'm glad I'm in it 'Cause there's one born every minute And it's so easy when you're evil This is the life, you see The Devil tips his hat to me I do it all because I'm evil And I do it all for free Your tears are all the pay I'll ever need

I pledge my allegiance, to all things dark And I promise on my damned soul To do as I am told, Lord Beelzebub Has never seen a soldier quite like me Not only does his job, but does it happily.

I'm the fear that keeps you awake I'm the shadows on the wall I'm the monsters they become I'm the nightmare in your skull I'm a dagger in your back An extra turn on the rack I'm the quivering of your heart A stabbing pain, a sudden start.

And it's so easy when you're evil This is the life, you see The Devil tips his hat to me I do it all because I'm evil And I do it all for free Your tears are all the pay I'll ever need And I do it all for free Your tears are all the pay I'll ever need And I do it all for free Your tears are all the pay I'll ever need

It gets so lonely being evil What I'd do to see a smile Even for a little while And no one loves you when you're evil I'm lying though my teeth! Your tears are all the company I need

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from "Land of the Dead" + "Day of the Dead" +  "When You're Evil" by Voltaire

Ain't it grand?

I'm the overlord of the underworld

I hold horror's hand

I'm darkside royalty

I'm far renowned

I'm far renowned in the underground

I'm far renowned in the underground and you can't take that from me

You can't take that from me

I'm in the lap of luxury

I was just a tourist the first time I went to Mexico

I was a stranger in danger in a world unknown

I try not to lose my head

A swarm of bats went up my nose

I lost all bowel control and knew that it was time to go

The locals tell me not to fear

It happens at least once a year

When hell is full the dead will walk the earth

They come up here for the beer!

The devil is a bit too busy

Death's a bit too much

They call on me, by name you see, for my special touch

To the gentlemen I'm Miss Fortune

To the ladies I'm Sir Prize

Call me by any name

I'm the fly in your soup

I'm the pebble in your shoe

I'm the pea beneath your bed

I'm the bump on every head

I'm the peel on which you slip

I'm a pin in every hip

I'm the thorn in your side, makes you wriggle and writhe

It's so easy when you're evil

The devil tips his hat to me

I do it all because I'm evil

I do it all for free

This is the life, you see

Your tears are all the pay I'll ever need

I'll be waiting 'round the corner

It's a game, I'm glad I'm in it

There's one born every minute

I pledge my allegiance to all things dark

I promise on my damned soul to do as I am told

Not only does his job but does it happily

I'm the fear that keeps you wake

I'm the shadows on the wall

I'm the monsters they become

I'm the nightmare in your skull

I'm the dagger in your back

I'm the quivering of your heart

It gets so lonely being evil

What I'd do to see a smile

No one loves you when you're evil

I'm lying through my teeth

Your tears are all the company I need

[seagreen-meets-grey]

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 13

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

Astrid could hear the soft gurgling of the stream long before she saw it. Hiccup led her around several groups of trees, through dense thicket, over narrow footpaths so hidden, she wondered if he’d formed them himself or if he’d been here so often, he knew every single step by heart. Probably both.

Ducking underneath the low-hanging leaves of a beech and evading the thorned twigs of a blackberry bush, they arrived on a small meadow, blooming and buzzing in the warm sunlight. She breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the sweet smell of late spring.

The stream was about ten feet wide, shallow water so clear she could count the pebbles at the bottom glistening in the light. She admired the way the current smoothly ran over and past the stones sticking out of the water, some big and round, some flat, serving as slippery step stones.

All around, leaves were rustling in the faint breeze, coming together with the humming and buzzing activity in the grass and the calming melody of the water in a soothing symphony.

The grass tickled her ankles as she slowly made her way to the bank of the stream, looking around and taking it all in. “This place is amazing.”

“It’s my favorite place in the forest.” Hiccup followed her and sat down on a small rock near the water. “Apart from the small cove my father used to take me to for fishing. It’s a bit further downstream, but last week I found a little fox family there and I don’t want to disturb them.”

She gently nudged him with her foot. “Scooch over.” When he moved to the side to make room on his rock, she settled down next to him. The surface of the rock was rather flat and not very big, just enough for two lean people to share without one butt cheek hanging over the side. It also meant that her entire side was pressed against his. He was warm and soft and comfortable. And maybe she leaned into him a bit, but only because she didn’t want to slide off the rock.

They sat in silence for a while. Astrid leaned back on her hands as far as she could on this surface and took in the scenery. Lining the meadow and the creek, knobby trees covered in ivy stood among straight trunks with white-gray pattern; overgrowing shrubbery, weeds and wildflowers nestled the ground close to their roots.

And there was green. Wherever she looked, everything was green, in different shades and shapes and sizes. When she breathed in through the nose, she could practically smell the luscious colors, along with the May bells and mayweed and the scent of fresh water in spring.

A gentle breeze brushed through her hair, harmonizing with the rustling of the leaves and the mellow mumbling and babbling of the water. Chirping and tweeting sounded from the trees, accompanied by the squeaking and cheeping of the baby birds hidden in the branches. A small, thin tree had grown low across the stream, its twigs hanging into the water, and she imagined the smaller animals using it as a bridge so they didn’t get wet feet or got carried away by the current.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a tuft of red and white swiftly disappearing up the trunk of a tree. A vole scurried through the leaves on the other side of the stream. Occasionally, a sudden ripple on the water revealed a glimpse of the activity below the surface. She knew that the longer she waited, the more the life of the forest would reveal itself to her. There was no traffic, no people, just her and Hiccup and their promised nature quality time.

Also belonging to the scenery was one dashing young man with the kind of chiseled jaw covered in stubble that could kill a man – or woman. He was focused on something unspecific in the water. In the sunlight, his hair looked like it would catch on fire any moment. Even his eyelashes were glowing. Was it possible to be hot in a dorky way? Apparently. She took a deep breath and followed his gaze to the mesmerizing dance of light and tiny waves on the surface of the water.

After a few minutes of silence, she started plucking at a long blade of grass until she held half of it in her hand. Staring at the stream, she absentmindedly ripped the blade in tiny pieces. “I’m afraid Eret’s cheating on me.” She opened her palms and the grass landed on her shoes without a sound while she waited. She didn’t even know what she was waiting for, or why she’d admitted to that in the first place. She suspected the peacefulness of this place had gained her trust.

Hiccup regarded her thoughtfully. “Why do you think that?”

She crossed her arms with a sigh. “He keeps talking about this coworker of his. How much fun they have at work. How they always get stuck after their shift ends because of their infinite amount of conversation topics. It’s always ‘my coworker’ this and ‘my coworker’ that. And then last March, on their department’s spring party, I met Dana. She kept going on and on and on about how funny he is, how capable and handsome.” She tugged at a whole clump of grass, in desperate need to rip something apart. “She was practically throwing herself at him.”

“Hmm,” Hiccup made. “Have you talked to him about that?”

She huffed. “Oh, I have. I confronted him two weeks ago. He didn’t take the accusation that well.”

“You… blatantly accused him of cheating? I don’t think anyone would take that well.”

“How else was I supposed to talk to him about it? Ask him nicely if he has a mistress?”

He shrugged with one shoulder. “Yes. No? I don’t know. I guess there’s a more delicate way to approach that subject.”

“I’m a straight-forward person, I don’t like to beat around the bush. So when he started his next sentence with my coworker and I, I just snapped. I was so sick of it.”

“What happened?”

“It escalated. We yelled. Then while he packed for his work trip, I packed to go live with my parents for a while. Said I needed some distance. He said I didn’t even need to leave the house for that, because I was already acting distant. I said that the same would go for him. And the yelling started again and then we left and… Well.” She vaguely gestured around. “Here I am.”

“Sounds like a real mess.”

“It is.” She bit her lip. “What do you think I should do?”

He looked at her in earnest, sincerity deep in his eyes. “I think you should talk to him about how you feel. And maybe this time, leave out the blunt accusations.”

She groaned and threw her head back. “I don’t want to talk about my feelings.”

“At some point, you will have to. Take it from a guy who as a teenager ran away from every single confrontation because he was too afraid of failure and an outcome more negative than the actual situation.”

The boulder was back in her stomach. She wondered what would happen if she went into the water now. Why had she brought up the topic again? Because she’d felt comfortable enough to do so? And weirdly, despite her old friend the boulder, she wanted to get another thing off her chest. Desperately.

“I took a pregnancy test last night.” She felt his eyes bore into the side of her head.

“Are you…?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Oh.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. “Is that… I mean, did- did you… Are you- are you okay?”

Ripping out more grass, she scrunched up her face. “Yeah. I’m relieved, I guess. I mean, I always knew I wanted to have kids at some point, but…”

“But now’s not a good time,” he finished the sentence for her and she nodded. If she had been pregnant, then the whole situation would have been more complicated. She probably would have rushed back into a relationship that still needed more sorting out, ignoring any problems for the sake of the child. But that would have just made all parties involved more miserable.

She smiled at Hiccup. “Thanks. You’re good to talk to.” That was probably an understatement. It was somehow so easy to tell him about things she hadn’t even yet mentioned in passing around anyone else. They’d just started to really get to know each other, and she already trusted him completely. Her mother would call her naïve. But Astrid knew better, and so did he, judging by the meaningful look he gave her.

“Anytime.”

Before she could change her mind, she leaned her head on his shoulder. She could feel him freeze for a moment, but then he relaxed and slowly leaned his own head against hers. The boulder inside her dissolved.

A woodpecker joined them somewhere on their left, a cuckoo called faintly in the distance. She closed her eyes. The sun warming her face and the songs of nature were like a lullaby, luring her in for a nap. She’d almost drifted off when a gentle nudge brought her back. Looking up at Hiccup, she opened her mouth to say something, but he shook his head and pointed ahead.

There, on the other side of the stream, a deer poked its head out of the underbrush. It stood still for a moment, its nose quivering, before it slowly stalked towards the water. With one last check of its surroundings, it lowered its head and started drinking. Astrid didn’t dare to move a muscle or make the slightest sound.

However, a low gasp escaped her when a second deer came onto the meadow, then a third. One of them set its gaze onto the two humans on the other side, regarding them, and after a good twenty seconds of staring decided they were no threat. It was an incredible feeling. Her hand slowly reached for her phone, but before she could take it out of her pocket, Hiccup closed his hand over hers and shook his head. "Shh," he made, so quietly she almost didn't hear it. Her heart was pounding.

When the breeze suddenly picked up and carried their scent over, the deer tensed, holding their noses up in the air immediately. From one second to the other, all three of them leapt up and bolted, the snapping of twigs in the underbrush growing fainter by the second. The woodpecker, bumblebees and gurgling of the water slowly came back into focus. She and Hiccup looked at each other with a spark in their eyes.

“Thanks,” she whispered and he raised his eyebrows in question. “For taking me here.”

“Ah, you’re welc–” His voice died when she suddenly leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. With wide, green eyes he stared at her, and she assumed her expression mirrored his. Her lips tingled, warm and exciting. The sensation wandered down her arm into her hand and she managed to break away from his gaze to look down. He followed her eyes and when he realized his hand was still holding hers, he gulped and slowly pulled away, the nerves under her skin longing to chase his touch.

“We… We should probably get going,” she feebly suggested.

“Yeah,” he agreed, voice an octave higher than normal. “That’s exactly what I was gonna… Get going.” Looking anywhere but at her, he scrambled up from the rock and orientated himself. “There- let’s… Uh, let’s go there.”

For some reason, her knees needed a moment before they let her walk after him. Whatever that had just been, she should just forget about it. She followed Hiccup through the trees, no paths directing the way. All she could do was trust him that he knew where he was going, and she did. He led her up a small hill, leaves and twigs crunching under their steps.

“Hey, your shoe is untied,” she noted. He stopped to look down and a soft oh escaped him. It was cute.

While she readjusted her socks that were slowly slipping from her heel, he bent over to relace his shoes, giving her a good look at his backside. From her point of view – which was completely neutral, of course – he had a nice butt. When he stood again, she jogged past him and gave it a light slap.

“Astrid!” he exclaimed in surprise.

She just smirked at him. “Come on, slowpoke!” Then she sprinted down the other side of the hill.

“Oh, you!” she heard him call before he took after her, chasing her through the woods. She made it down the hill, past a group of birches and around a thick beech when he came around the other side of it, throwing his arms around her and lifting her up. “Gotcha!” He immediately let go of her after, walking further down the invisible path only he could see.

She had to catch her breath for a second before she fell back in step beside him. From the sprint. “Just so you know, I let you win.”

“No, no you didn’t!” he countered in a chipper tone.

“Because I was tired of playing catch.”

“Nope, you weren’t.” She stuck her tongue out at him, making him laugh. “You’re so mature, Ms. Hofferson.”

“That’s because I’m older than you.”

“By two months! Hey, watch your step, there’s a lot of vines here.” Naturally, he promptly stumbled over one, catching himself on a tree.

“Watch your step, there’s lots of vines here.”

He shook his head. “Well, aren’t you a little smartass.”

“Takes one to know one,” she shrugged.

“Eh, can’t argue with that.”

She brushed her fist along his arm again and caught his grin.

All too soon, she began to make out traffic and chatter in the distance again. It felt like leaving a different, peaceful universe, where the rest of the world and its problems didn’t exist. It was kind of disappointing. And if that wasn’t enough, on their way back to the cars, her phone started ringing with a very familiar name filling the screen. She sighed. She didn’t want to deal with that right now, but knew that ignoring his call wouldn’t make anything any better.

She threw Hiccup an apologetic look and held her phone against her ear. “Hi.”

“Hey.” There was an awkward beat of silence. “I’m on my way home and uh… I just wanted to know if you’re there.”

“No.”

“Are you… still in Berk? At your parents’ place?”

“Yes.”

“Do… Do you know when you’ll be coming back?”

“No.”

When her answers didn’t become more elaborate, Eret cleared his throat, and after years of being with him, she could tell he was about to say something he’d rather not say at all. “You, um. You were right, by the way. About Dana.” Bright red warning bells rang in her mind at that name. “She kissed me last night.” He cleared his throat and gulped audibly.

She stepped past the last line of trees and onto the gravel of the parking lot, and leaving the woods had never felt this sobering. “I fucking knew it,” she mumbled through clenched teeth.

“Astrid–”

“I knew it!”

“Hey, hold on, please let me finish!”

She walked a small distance away from Hiccup and any other people in the near vicinity. No need for them to overhear her personal drama. “Fine, I’m listening!”

“Like I said, you were right, she wanted–”

“Did you kiss her back?”

“No–”

“So there’s nothing going on between you and your coworker?”

He didn’t immediately answer and his hesitation stung. “Will you just let me explain?!”

“You didn’t answer my question!” She was yelling and she knew it. People were turning their heads so she glowered at them.

“And you didn’t let me speak in the first place! You know what, my mother’s right, sometimes you really do act like my personal dictator.”

Astrid’s jaw dropped to the floor. “WELL, FUCK YOU TOO!” she screamed and it took everything in her to not fling her phone across the parking lot. Instead, she hung up and forcefully kicked at a large pebble on the ground. It whirled up dust and gravel and hit a stranger’s car. She couldn’t care less. Everything inside her was fuming. How dare he? How dare they?!

With a frustrated growl, she turned around and walked back to Hiccup. He had given her some space and was leaning against his car.

“Everything alright?” he asked carefully at her aggressive body language.

“I was right! Eret just told me! He and his stupid fucking coworker!”

“So… He admitted to cheating on you?”

“Well, no, not in those words, but…”

“So he didn’t?”

“He was telling me the story of how he and Dana had fun last night, but I just...”

“You avoided the topic.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then huffed. “I didn’t need to hear any details.”

“Hm,” he made, thoughts scurrying across his face. “Are you sure there isn’t more to the story than you think? Maybe you should talk–”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she interrupted him, the words breaking out of her on their own.

He held up his hands in defense. “Geez, sorry. I’m just trying to help.”

Something churned inside her stomach, between all the raging knives, something akin to guilt. Seeing his expression, her shoulders untensed a little. “No, sorry for yelling at you. I’m just so– ugh!” Her fist punched the next best thing, which was the metal pole of a parking sign. A flash of pain shot through her knuckles and she shook her hand out with a hiss.

“Hey, can I say something?” Hiccup asked, caution coating his voice with his eyes set on her aching hand.

She shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t include the word overreaction.”

He shook his head, brows furrowed in contemplation. “I might be going out on a limb here, but… Do you think that, maybe, you want it to be true?”

“Why on Earth would I want that?!”

“Because… Because you’re not happy in your relationship and- and this way, you can put the blame on someone other than yourself.”

“EXCUSE ME?!” The blazing wall of fire burned every shred of guilt and sympathy she felt.

He held up his hands again. “I’m just saying, you accused him of cheating, kept yelling at him – I’m assuming offensively – and now you yelled at him again instead of hearing him out. Is that what happened or am I totally off-base here?”

“Are you taking his side?!”

“No! If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be involved in this at all!”

“Then why are we still having this conversation?” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest as he sighed.

“Because I care about you. And I hate seeing you digging yourself deeper into this mess, so I’m trying to help you realize what to do.”

“Really? Then what is it I should do?”

“Let him give you his side of the story. Without any yelling.”

She leaned against the pole, suddenly very tired. “I…”

“You know,” he said when she didn’t continue, avoiding his searching eyes, “for someone claiming to be so straightforward, you sure like to run from truthful conversations.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, voice rising again.

He looked at her for a moment, then shook is head. “Never mind.”

“No, if you have something to say, then say it!”

After a short contemplating glance, he stood up straight. “Fine. You say you don’t like to beat around the bush, but how come we’re not talking about what happened on your wedding day? Or at Dagur’s party? Are we just going to ignore all that until we die?”

“What- I don’t- We-” she stuttered, her stomach dropping further than the ground beneath her feet. At once, she felt exposed, vulnerable, and confused at the same time. Her mind decided on the next best defense mechanism. “What is there to talk about?” She could see the small change in his eyes, a gray curtain falling, tired, disappointed, sad.

“You’ll keep denying it, won’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question and that somehow hit even harder.

“What is there to deny?”

Suddenly, he took a large step towards her, until he was so close, their noses were almost touching. She could feel the heat of his body, smell his deodorant, make out every tiny hair on his face and the miniscule change of skin tissue at the edges of the long, white scar on his chin. Her breath hitched, heart pounding rapidly, her entire being longing to close the remaining gap between their bodies. Her knees weakened. It was hard to not get mesmerized by his eyes, a deep, green galaxy right before her. She tore her eyes away from them, only to latch onto his lips. She couldn’t breathe.

Like detaching himself from a magnet, he slowly stepped back and the air found its way back into her lungs. She could hear her heartbeat in every cell of her body, had trouble making sense of her surroundings, like waking up in a dark room with only a sliver of light coming from an unknown direction. By the time her feet touched solid ground again, mere seconds could have passed, or entire lifetimes.

“You’re right,” he said, strained voice cutting right through her chest, “there’s nothing to talk about. You dropped your phone, by the way.” With that, he got into his car, reversed out of the parking spot, and drove away. Even after he was long gone and the sound of his engine had faded in the distance, Astrid was still rooted to the spot, staring in the direction he had disappeared.

It took her a while to reassemble herself, clear the fog in her mind, will her heartbeat to finally slow down. On autopilot, she picked her phone up from the ground, wiped the gravel off the screen, saw the new variation of tiny scratches on the back but didn’t truly see anything. Her mind was still drowning in the sudden proximity to Hiccup Haddock, which shouldn’t have shaken her as much as it had, considering she’d sat close to him merely an hour ago.

Only when she was back in her own car, weaving her way through Berk’s rush hour traffic, her fingers stopped twitching at the memory of being almost skin to skin with him. As the fog was clearing, her confusion began settling, the puzzle pieces setting themselves back together, and a fist of steel closed around her still thumping heart.

It remained like that for the rest of the day. She managed to smile, make small talk, be present enough to get through the conversations with her parents, avoiding too much eye contact, especially with her mother. She probably noticed her mental absence but knew it would be futile to try and get anything out of her.

Astrid went to bed at ten; she tossed, turned, buried her face in her pillow until long past midnight. Now that she was alone with her thoughts, lying in the dark in her old bedroom, there was no place to hide from her mind. It insisted on replaying the whole day over and over, gnawing and nibbling away at her from the inside. When she closed her eyes, she saw green irises, a storm of freckles dancing across her retina, lips so close her fingers twitched to touch them, her own lips puckering. And even though it’s been several hours, she could still feel his hand on hers, warm and gentle and setting a blazing fire to her core.

He kept haunting her, occupying her every thought, every beat of her heart. Her ribs were aching from the steel inside her chest, pressing cold and heavy against her heart and lungs ever since her fight with Hiccup. She felt terrible. All he’d done was be honest, something she had not been with herself for a very long time, and she’d lashed out at him just like she had at Eret and her mother.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and squinted at the bright screen. Opening the right messenger app, she drafted an apology message, deleted it several times, all the time hoping he wasn’t looking at his side of the chat right now and saw her typing. Because in the end, she’d gone through at least ten versions of the same text and didn’t send any of them. None of them sounded right, didn’t fully convey the sincerity of her feelings. Instead, she got lost in her thoughts again, staring at the ceiling, phone forgotten beside her with the screen gone dark from long inactivity.

Gazing down at her was a pair of eyes. Lighter towards the middle, a dark green ring at the edges, and depending on how the light hit them, either forest green or a brilliant shade of emerald. It was so fascinating to watch him, to survey the everchanging expressions on his face, his emotions an open book most of the time. The way his eyebrows dipped, the corners of his mouth twitched or the crinkles around his eyes deepened, eyes always the most telling. How his features changed with every new thought, every new idea, and the way his shoulders and hands could carry half the conversation for him.

The sound of his laugh, sometimes dorky, sometimes sassy, sometimes charming, and always so uniquely Hiccup. That lopsided smile of his that could turn into a smirk when he thought of something witty to say. How he listened to her, even when all she was spouting was a bunch of mundane bullshit. How he showed interest in everything she said and did. His kind nature, his honesty, his spirit. The way he could turn her insides to mush and her soul to dangle freely a few thousand feet in the air by just a look or a simple touch. How he inspired her to be herself.

Never before had she been this intrigued by someone, never had she wanted to discover every little thing there was to know about another person. Wanted him to know her better than she did herself. Wanted to know him better than anyone else. Wanted him with her here, next to her, right now. Wanted to feel his warmth, his touch, his breath ghosting over her lips, over her skin, before tracing every line, every patch of skin on her body with his tongue. A deep, longing sigh escaped her as she imagined all the things she wanted him to do to her, everything she wanted to do with him. Craved him more than she ever had anyone else.

But above all, she couldn’t keep running from the truth any longer, especially since it was blaring in her face like a trumpet. As soon as she opened that gate, the steel in her chest melted, glowing and smoldering as it encased her heart. A giddy thrill coursed through her, as well as fatigue, as she finally gave in, let the wall crumble brick by brick. By the time the first choked sob rocked her body, the tears were already flooding down her face, hot and salty, paired with incredulous laughter.

Fuck. This was it, wasn’t it? She was undeniably and irrevocably screwed.

[sebastianshaw]

RP meme from "When You're Evil" by Voltaire

The devil is a bit too busy

Death's a bit too much

They call on me, by name you see, for my special touch

To the gentlemen I'm Miss Fortune

To the ladies I'm Sir Prize

Call me by any name

I'm the fly in your soup

I'm the pebble in your shoe

I'm the pea beneath your bed

I'm the bump on every head

I'm the peel on which you slip

I'm a pin in every hip

I'm the thorn in your side, makes you wriggle and writhe

It's so easy when you're evil

The devil tips his hat to me

I do it all because I'm evil

I do it all for free

This is the life, you see

Your tears are all the pay I'll ever need

I'll be waiting 'round the corner

It's a game, I'm glad I'm in it

There's one born every minute

I pledge my allegiance to all things dark

I promise on my damned soul to do as I am told

Not only does his job but does it happily

I'm the fear that keeps you wake

I'm the shadows on the wall

I'm the monsters they become

I'm the nightmare in your skull

I'm the dagger in your back

I'm the quivering of your heart

It gets so lonely being evil

What I'd do to see a smile

No one loves you when you're evil

I'm lying through my teeth

Your tears are all the company I need

[samirant]

P&tP3 PLEASE. Unless it'll hurt me. You've hurt me enough.

OK, dramallama. <3 @forbiddenfantasies1

*deep breath*

P&tP stands for (gaaaah, this is me committing to eventually posting) The Princess & the Pearl. It is a story based on the similarly named fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen and it has been my little... thorn in my side, pebble in my shoe, deepest wish for about ten years. It was originally going to be for the Ugly Betty fandom, then I stopped writing for a really long time and it got shuffled aside. Now that I’m all about Jaime and Brienne, I’ve figured out a way to fit it to their pairing, but the longer I sit on it, the more *complicated* it gets. So. I really don’t want to start posting until I have most of it done and it’s going to be *at least* 15 chapters. At. Least. I’m working on Chapter 4, so it’s going to be a while.

But now I’ve told you about it, so it’s going to happen. It HAS to happen. GAH.