#which I despise to the very depths of my soul

[cliff-and-the-kid]

(So. Today has been awful and is only going to get worse before it gets better. I've been staring at my laptop screen for the better part of an hour, unable to muster up the will to work on anything, be it drafts here or new fanfic or my original stories. Gonna try something else as a means of engaging my brain without getting stressed over trying to genuinely be creative...)

[aixeko]

──────‹𝟹 SINNERS SAVAGERY ༄ Ѽ✧

IF I'M YOUR SALVATION, WELCOME TO HELL.

2024 Halloween Event | Art credit: Efferwescent on Twitter

𖤐 SINNERS SAVAGERY | or ERISETOBER  is an event that is a mix of Kinktober, Whumptober and Flufftober in a nutshell SMUT, ANGST & FLUFF with Halloween aspects. All prompts are made by me but some of the ones that inspired me are whumptober ofc, and this list. 

𖤐 ONLY HONKAI STAR RAIL AND GENSHIN WOMEN For this year

𖤐 This will be my first time doing the October prompts stuff + I have another event going on so bare with me haha.

𖤐 !! WEEK 1 starts 6 to 13 !! !! WEEK 2 starts 13 to 19 !! !! WEEK 3 starts 20 to 26 !! !! WEEK 4 starts 27 to 31 !!

WEEK 1 | MONSTER AU | | ONESHOT

| Film | TILL DEATH DO US PART | Starring | Kafka as alien symbiote “Venom” x Host!Reader  | Synopsis | A livelihood ripped away by the greed of humankind and faced with impending doom, an alien symbiote by the name of "Kafka" entered your life and made you her host. Originally, the monstrous being harbored one goal: to destroy everything planet Earth had to offer, but plans changed upon meeting you and thus, with her power, you both do whatever it takes to save the planet. Loathing was all that was bestowed toward the extraterrestrial parasitic, but as time passes, a long-lost feeling resurfaces, one that hasn't manifested since your heartbreak; of course, you would rather be brutally killed than confess your endearment. Unbeknownst to you, the woman has suspected you of such intimacy and, with her incredible adaptability to the complex human emotion, has a ploy to make you profess those three special words.

| Film | YOUR LORDSHIP | Starring | Yelan as Leviathan x Mortal!Reader | Synopsis |  When the tempestuous waves crash against the shore and the sky turns a foreboding grey, human shells cower in fear as the mighty lord of the seas, Leviathan, awakens from the darkest pit of the deep, seeking for a human companion to aid her lonely voyage.

WEEK 2 | MYTHOLOGICAL AU | | ONESHOT

| Film | BEYOND THE IMAGINABLE | Starring | Clorinde as Medusa x Blind!Reader | Synopsis | Despised and misunderstood by the world, she was a victim of a scandalous man's wrongdoing, unfairly punished by heaven despite her innocence. During one fortunate day, the woman whose heart had turned to stone melt under the accursed spell of love, wholly captivated by a blind mortal who fell in love with her for who she truly was; even without sight, the virtuous human saw the very essence of her, the beauty within her soul.

| Film | OFFERING OF PURITY | Starring | Raiden Ei as Hades x Mortal!Reader | Synopsis | The townsfolk tell tales of a legend that speaks of how, once in a century, the moon would adorn itself in a deep crimson hue and illuminate its shade onto the world. Under its wrathful light, the god of hell emerges to wreak havoc, and the only way to banish such evil is to offer a youthful virgin mortal; only then will humankind live in another century of prosperity and peace.

WEEK 3 | ANIMATRONICS AU | | SMUTSHOT

| Film | FIVE NIGHTS AT STAR RAIL | Starring | Kafka, Himeko, Blackswan, and Acheron as the FNAF Classic Animatronics x Night-guard!Reader | Synopsis | A newspaper arrives at your doorstep, featuring a job opening for a night guard position at the famous Star Rail Pizzeria. Struggling financially, you quickly seize the golden opportunity. The job's only requirement is 5 nights of work, and if you succeed, you'll be hired as an official employee; what could possibly go wrong?

WEEK 4 | SLASHER/SERIAL KILLER AU

| Film | MINDFUCK | Starring | Slasher!Arlecchino x Investigative-Psychologist!Reader | Synopsis | Demons linger where shadows play; in silence, hearts betray, whispers echo, and desires catch fire in the haunting depths of the night. With every kiss, a scythe may cut, in which terror envelops one's gut; together they dance on the edge of fate, finding beauty in a love that is too late. So let the night weave its spell, for in the dark they know so well, and though demons are whispering fright, in their twilight, the lights are ignited.

[yourlocaljonghoe]

Your Gentle Hands (Please Don't Ever Let Go Of Me Again). || Kim Hongjoong. [ Part 2 ]

Part 1 here.

Summary: meeting the local outcast shouldn't have ended with you slowly falling for him. yet you did, all while knowing you could never have this man, because you were already someones else's wife. two lovers, a dress shop, and a violent man between it all. we all know how this ends, right? ... right?

Pairing: dressmaker!kim hongjoong x fem. reader

Genre: angst, fluff, suggestive

Wordcount: 22.7k

Warnings: misogyny, mentions of (domestic) violence, injuries, wounds, scars, lots of tears and trauma, allusions to sex but cuts right before the actual act

A/N: all i have to say is... thank fucking god i finally finished it. i struggled so much, and though i still love it im also so sick of this fic haha. there are so many people i want to thank for listening to my rambling, brainstorming and constantly reassuring me: @ghstzzn, @skteezcursed, @xomakara and also to @pali-writes-atiny-bit who beta read the whole thing <33 please don't forget to reblog and like! divider credits as always to @firefly-graphics!

Available here on AO3.

“When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are to become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No … don’t blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away. Doesn’t sound very exciting, does it? But it is!”

Captain Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis de Bernières

The room around you was quiet, save for the distant ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway. As a child, you'd hated this clock. Now, as an adult, you despised it.

Your hands rested in your lap, the delicate lace of the dress you loved so much pooling around you like the last remnants of a life that, albeit short, once felt full of promises. The world outside was moving on, the townsfolk bustling about with their daily tasks, their lives seemingly untouched by the darkness that has taken hold of your heart.

It was funny, hilarious even.

Because despite pretending not to, they all knew, bowed their heads in shame whenever you walked by.

Yet not a single soul had ever cared.

Not until a man was dead, and another one was jailed for his murder.

You leaned your forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching as the winter sun set over the distant hills, casting a golden glow on the town below. The streets were full of people rushing to finish their errands before nightfall, their faces etched with concern and urgency. None of them spared a glance in the direction of your family's old house, none of them knew the depth of your despair.

Or maybe they did. Maybe they just didn't care. 

It wouldn't be the first time.

The sound of the door creaking open drew your attention, but you didn't turn to look. You knew who it was. Your mother had a way of entering a room that felt like an invasion, like an unwelcome breeze slipping through a crack in the window.

“You’re still wearing that costume,” she said, voice low and disapproving. “That man. Hongjoong. You shouldn't-”

“Shouldn't what, Mother? Mourn the only person who ever truly cared for me?”

You kept your forehead pressed against the glass, your breath fogging up a small circle. The lace of your dress felt heavy now, like a shroud. Once, you had worn it with pride. It had been a gift from Hongjoong, back when his friendship, care and love felt like a lifeline. Back when you were still able to see him, touch him, kiss him-

“Why do you still have it on?” she continued, stepping further into the room. Her footsteps were slow, deliberate. “It's time to let go of the past.”

You finally turned to face her, your eyes cold. The sight of her stirred a boiling rage within you, a fury that had been simmering for too long. She looked at you with the same passive face she always had, the face of a woman who turned away from the truths she didn't want to see.

“You let him do this to me,” you said, your voice trembling with restrained anger. “You saw the bruises. You heard the screams. And you did nothing.”

She flinched, just slightly, but quickly regained her composure, fidgeting with her hands. You two had that habit in common. “I did what I thought was best. It was a different time-”

“Different time?” you interrupted, standing up. The lace dress flowed around you, the wind making it flare up. “You watched your daughter suffer, and you did nothing. That's not the past. That's just who you are.”

Your mother’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but you felt no pity for her. Not anymore. The betrayal was too deep, the wounds too fresh.

“E-everything's changed now,” she said softly. “He's gone. You’re free.”

“Free?!” you echoed, laughing bitterly. “Free to live in this prison of horrible memories? Free to be haunted by the faces of all the people who turned away? Free to watch the man I love be behind bars for a crime I committed?”

Silence fell between you, heavy and oppressive. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed so, so much louder now.

“You need to let go,” she whispered, a plea hidden in her tone.

“And you need to face what you did,” you replied, your voice cold and unwavering. “Or, well, didn't do.”

With that, you turned back to the window, shutting her out once more. The sun had nearly disappeared behind the hills, casting long shadows across the town. 

You wouldn't stay here much longer. You had a plan, and soon, it would be time to carry it out.

But before that, you had to see your entire family again. And tonight, while celebrating another successful harvest season was the perfect opportunity. Even though the bond you once shared was inevitably broken, they were your family, your people, whom you once loved and shared many memories with.

One last time, you wanted to look them right in the eye.

Because afterwards, you vowed to never speak to them again.

“Miyeon isn't coming today?” you asked as you and your eldest sister set the table. Unfortunately for you, you had to take off Hongjoong’s dress for real this time. To keep the peace, your mother insisted.

“She's with child, Y/N. She can't travel that far. Unlike some of us, she actually fulfills her wifely duties”, she remarked snarky, her voice cold and arrogant. 

You didn't take her usual bait. “What a shame. May she and her unborn be healthy,” you whispered. You were being honest; you truly wanted that. Your middle sister was a good human, and you knew if she and her husband Gikwang wouldn't be away so much traveling the world, she would probably be the only family member you could truly lean on.

Unlike Jisoo, the eldest of you. Your relationship had always been strained, even as children. While you and Miyeon were close, Jisoo had always thought of herself as the best of the best, thus never bothering to actually spend time with you.

And when she married her wealthy husband, Juwon, her arrogance reached a whole new level. When your family's fortune went downhill and you had to marry below your status, her evil, cruel nature fully revealed itself to you. 

While she was always cordial with your parents and sister, in private, you were her personal punching bag.

Your sister's voice snapped you back to the present. “Father's been asking about you,” Jisoo said, arranging the cutlery with a meticulousness that bordered on obsessiveness. “He's worried.”

“Worried?” you echoed, suppressing a bitter laugh. “Funny, he didn't seem worried at all when he handed me over to a monster.”

Jisoo’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He did what he thought was best for the family. You were meant to secure our future.”

“And look how well that turned out,” you said, the sarcasm dripping from your words. “One dead, another imprisoned, and me... here, all alone.”

For a brief moment, you could swear your sister's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something almost like sympathy crossing her features. “Y/N...”

But you weren’t in the mood for her half-hearted attempts at empathy. “Save it, Jisoo. You’ve made your feelings clear enough over the years.”

Silence fell over the room as the two of you continued to set the table. God, in moments like these, you really needed Miyeon. Or ‘Always the peacemaker Miyeon’, as you called her. Because now, this large dining room, once a place full of warmth and laughter, felt like a mausoleum, merely filled with the ghosts and memories of happier, easier times. The ornate chandelier above - one of the rare expensive items your family kept after your father lost his job and status -, the polished wooden floors, the family portraits lining the walls - they all seemed to mock the illusion of a perfect family that had long since shattered.

The room fell into an uneasy silence afterwards. Jisoo's meticulously manicured fingers continued moving with precision, setting each fork and knife in its place, perfectly in order.

“Y/N,” Jisoo began again, her voice softer this time. “I know you’ve been through a lot. But we’re still family. We have to… find a way to move forward.”

You looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in years. Behind the cold exterior, you saw traces of the sister you once played with in the gardens, the sister that, despite never being interested in the same things as Miyeon and you, tried her best to somewhat bond with you, all for the sake of the family. Before life had driven a wedge between you. Now, all those memories felt like they belonged to another lifetime, a dream you could barely recall.

“Moving forward,” you repeated, almost to yourself. “It sounds so simple when you say it.”

“It’s not simple,” Jisoo admitted, setting down the last knife and turning to face you fully. “But it’s necessary.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the sound of footsteps in the hallway made you pause. Your father entered the room, his once robust frame now slightly stooped with age and worry. His eyes, once so full of authority, now seemed to carry the weight of too many regrets.

He looked as miserable as you felt. 

“Y/N,” he said, “It’s good to see you. You've been hiding in your room every time I come back from the fields, I thought… I thought you were ignoring me.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak because yes, you totally were ignoring him. Your relationship with your father had always been complicated, and recent events had only made it worse.. He had been the one to arrange your marriage, to send you into the hands of the man who had caused you so much pain. Forgiveness was a luxury you couldn’t afford, not yet.

Not ever, maybe.

“Father,” you finally managed, your voice tight. “Jisoo and I were just finishing setting the table.”

He glanced at the table, then back at you, his eyes searching your face for something, anything - understanding, perhaps, or absolution. “Thank you, both of you. It means a lot to have the family together again, minus your lovely sister of course.”

Jisoo moved to stand beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. “Are you worried? She's in good health, father, the delivery will surely go well.”

You tried so hard not to get upset at the scene unfolding in front of you. Seeing him so worried about Miyeon stung, because when has he ever shown you this kind of emotion?

He nodded, but his expression remained troubled. “Where’s your mother?”

“In the sitting room,” you replied. “She’s... resting.”

The truth was, you had left her standing in the middle of that room after yet another argument, lost in her own guilt and sorrow. But you didn’t have the energy to explain that to your father. 

“I’ll go get her,” he said, turning to leave. “Dinner will be ready soon. Jisoo, get your sons from the garden.”

As he walked away, you felt a pang of something close to pity. For all his faults, your father was still trying to hold the family together, still clinging to the hope that things could return to some semblance of normalcy. But you knew better.

Jisoo’s voice pulled you back to the present. “We should finish up. Mother won’t be happy if everything isn’t perfect.”

You nodded, moving mechanically as you placed the last of the plates on the table. The scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread wafted in from the kitchen, mingling with the tension in the air. This dinner, this facade of normalcy, felt like a cruel joke. But for now, you played along, if only to keep the peace a little while longer.

Dinner was… a strained affair, to say the least. Your family gathered around the table, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on faces that had grown distant and unfamiliar. Your mother, seated at the head, looked as if she were holding herself together by sheer force of will. Beside her, your father’s attempts at small talk fell flat, met with monosyllabic responses and uncomfortable silences.

Jisoo, always the dutiful daughter, tried to keep the conversation going. “Father, have you heard from the merchants about the new trade routes? I read that they’re opening up opportunities in the south. It could be good for the farm, we could get more profit and such.”

Your father nodded, seizing on the topic like a lifeline. “Yes, I’ve been in contact with a few of them. They say the prospects are promising. It could be a chance to recover some of what we’ve lost.”

You listened with half an ear, your thoughts all over the place.

You wondered what Hongjoong was doing at this very moment. Was he getting enough food? Was the little prison cell cold? Was he… Was he thinking about you, just like you were thinking about him? All you could think about was the memory of his touch, his voice, once your only source of comfort, now a constant torment. He was the only person who had ever truly understood you, and now he was paying the price for your actions.

“Y/N?” your mother’s voice brought you right back to reality, “Did you hear me?”

You blinked, realizing she had been speaking to you. “I’m sorry, Mother. What did you say?”

She sighed, a sound full of frustration and sadness. “I asked if you had any plans now that... now that things have changed.”

You knew what she meant. Now that your husband was dead, now that the scandal had rocked your family to its core. “I haven’t decided yet,” you said carefully. “There’s a lot to think about.”

Your mother nodded, her eyes flickering to your father, then back to you. “Just remember, we’re here for you. No matter what.”

You wanted to believe her, but the years of neglect and indifference had built walls that were impossible to tear down. “Thank you,” you said, though the words felt hollow.

As the meal wore on, the conversation thankfully turned to more mundane matters - Jisoo’s children, Miyeon’s pregnancy, the upcoming harvest celebration in town. It was as if everyone was trying to pretend that nothing had changed, that you were still a family bound by more than just blood and obligation.

But you knew better. And as you looked around the table at the faces of your family, you couldn’t help but wonder if they felt that, slowly but surely, you were no longer a part of them.

Later on, as everyone else was lingering in the living room already, you turned around to your mother, now all alone with you in the kitchen. “Mother?” you asked.

“What is it?”

“The bread you made… can I have some more of it? It was… very good.”

For a split second, she looked you right in the eye. 

“...Sure, my daughter.”

She knew something was up.

But maybe, maybe, not intervening with your plans was her way of finally apologizing to you.

The small police station was cold and dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. As you stepped inside, Officer Kim, one of only four officers in your town, looked up from his desk, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity as he spotted you.

“Mrs. Y/N,” he greeted, standing up. “What brings you here at this hour?”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “I need to see him,” you said, your voice cold and determined. “I need to face the man who killed my husband before he is executed.”

Officer Kim’s eyes widened slightly, but after composing himself, he nodded. “Of course. Just... be careful. He’s not in the best of moods.”

You forced a tight smile. “Thank you, Officer Kim. I brought this as a token of my appreciation.” You handed him the neatly wrapped loaf of bread. “It’s from my mother. She insisted.”

He accepted the gift with a nod. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very kind of you.”

As he led you down the short hallway to the cells, your heart pounded in your chest. The air grew colder the more you entered the building. At one point, it was so cold you felt multiple shivers run down your spine. God, Hongjoong must have frozen to death here. 

You shook your head, taking another deep breath. You had to act, and act well, for your plan to work.

“There he is,” Officer Kim said, nodding toward the second cell. Hongjoong sat on the narrow cot, his head bowed, his hands clasped together. At the sound of your approach, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours instantly.

You saw the turmoil of emotions behind his eyes. Guilt, sorrow, and so much relief to finally see you again.

“Y/N,” he began, but you cut him off with a glare.

“Don’t you dare say my name,” you hissed, stepping closer to the bars. “You have no right to speak to me.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened, but he quickly masked his emotions. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes.

“I needed to see you,” you spat, your voice dripping with venom. “I needed to look into the eyes of the man who murdered my husband.”

Officer Kim shifted uncomfortably beside you, clearly uneasy with the tension. “I’ll give you a few minutes,” he said, retreating back to his desk. “But don’t take too long.”

You waited until his footsteps faded before turning back to Hongjoong, your expression softening. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I had to make it convincing.”

Hongjoong reached through the bars, his fingers brushing against yours. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, his voice trembling. He looked unwell; skinnier than ever before, his eyes sunken in and some torn, old clothes on his shivering frame.

“I have a plan to get you out,” you said, glancing over your shoulder to ensure Officer Kim wasn’t coming back just yet. “The bread I gave him... it’s poisoned. Not enough to kill, just enough to make him sick. When he’s down, I’ll get the keys and we’ll leave. Together.”

Hongjoong’s eyes filled with a mix of admiration and worry. “You’re risking everything for me.”

“I’d risk anything for you,” you confirmed, your voice breaking. “You’re the only person who’s ever truly cared for me. I can’t lose you.”

Before he could respond, you heard a muffled groan from the direction of the desk. It seemed as if officer Kim was already feeling the effects of the poison, his footsteps stumbling as he tried to return.

“Now,” you whispered urgently. “We have to go now.”

You hurried back to the entrance of the cells, finding Officer Kim slumped over his desk, groaning in pain. He looked up at you, confusion and betrayal clearly visible in his eyes.

“Mrs. Y/N... what...”

“I’m so, so sorry,” you said softly, reaching for the keys on his belt. “I had to.”

You returned to Hongjoong’s cell, unlocking the door with trembling hands. The door swung open with a creak, and he stepped out, his hand immediately finding yours.

“Let’s go,” you said, pulling him toward the back exit. “We don’t have much time.”

“Wait,” he said, and halted his steps. Before you could fully turn around and ask what's wrong, he was all over you. 

His arms wrapped around you in a fierce embrace, pulling you close as if he were afraid you might disappear. You could feel his heartbeat, fast and erratic, echoing your own.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice choked with emotion. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

You held onto him just as tightly, savoring the warmth and solidity of his body against yours. “We don’t have much time,” you whispered, even though you wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms forever. “We have to go.”

Hongjoong nodded, pulling back slightly but keeping a firm grip on your hand. Together, you made your way out, your hearts pounding with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The night was cold and still, the moon casting a pale light over the deserted streets..

“We’ll head to the forest,” you said, squeezing Hongjoong’s hand. “I hid a few resources for us by the tree where we first met. Along with… along with some evidence. Against my former husband.”

“You want… you want to prove my innocence?”

You looked at him, and nodded. “You are innocent after all. And… and I am too.”

Hongjoong’s grip tightened on your hand as the two of you made your way through the dark, narrow streets. “I have someone who can help us,” he whispered urgently. “Someone… powerful.”

You glanced at him. “Who?”

“I can't tell you yet. But trust me, she can definitely help us.”

She?

You nodded, but your mind raced. “...Alright, let’s get to the tree first. We need those resources.”

The two of you moved down the all too familiar path. The town was quiet, the only sound the occasional bark of a distant dog or the rustle of leaves in the wind. Beside you, Hongjoong wasn't as quick as he'd usually be; the weeks of solitary confinement, barely enough food and cold temperatures were clearly evident, yet he did not once fall behind. You reached the tree where you and Hongjoong had first met, a towering oak tree.

The place where it all started.

“There,” you whispered, pointing to a hollow at the base of the tree. Hongjoong knelt down, reaching into the hollow and pulling out a small bag. He opened it, revealing the few precious items you had hidden: food, water, a change of clothes, and most importantly, the evidence that could clear Hongjoong’s name.

“These letters,” you said, pulling out a bundle of crumpled papers. “They’re from my husband. Threatening me, detailing his abuse and plans to ruin our family if I didn’t comply. They’ll prove what kind of man he really was.”

Hongjoong nodded, his eyes hardening. “We’ll make sure everyone knows the truth. But first, we need to get out of here.”

“Don't you want to rest?” you asked, clearly worried about his current state.

He just took your hand and placed a chaste kiss on it. “Later. I have to make sure you're safe first.”

“And you, too,” you added.

“And me too,” he repeated.

So, the two of you set off again, moving through the shadows, your hearts pounding in unison. As you reached the main street, you were determined to make it as far as possible, as quickly as possible. But as you rounded a corner, you came to a sudden halt.

A carriage awaited you, its dark silhouette looming in the moonlight. And standing beside it, his expression grim, was your father.

“Father,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped forward, his eyes locked on yours. “I… had a feeling you’d try to run,” he said quietly. “And I couldn’t let you do it alone.”

You stared at him, confusion swirling in your mind. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve made many mistakes, Y/N. So, so many mistakes. But letting you suffer in silence was the worst of all. I’m not here to stop you. I’m here to help you. Even if it means I'll never see you again.”

Hongjoong stepped protectively in front of you, his eyes narrowed. “Why should we trust you? You never protected her before, why now?”

Your father met his gaze steadily. “Because I love my daughter.”

“You're a liar,” you whispered, hot, angry tears threatening to escape your eyes.

He fiercely shook his head. “I'm a bad person, Y/N. I do not want to earn my forgiveness with this. But I'm not a liar. Never that. Take this carriage and go, wherever you two want to.”

You looked at Hongjoong, then back at your father. “And what about you?”

He shook his head. “I’ll stay behind and livel with the consequences. It’s the least I can do.”

Tears filled your eyes as you stepped forward, embracing your father tightly. It was the first hug you shared in a long, long time, and also the last one. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He held you close for a moment, then gently pushed you toward the carriage. “Go. Be safe. And don’t look back.”

You and Hongjoong climbed into the carriage, the soft leather seats a stark contrast to the cold, hard ground you had just left. As the carriage began to move, you looked out the window, watching your father’s figure grow smaller and smaller until it fully disappeared into the night.

The carriage rattled along the narrow, winding road, the wheels clattering over the uneven stones. The night was cold, the air crisp with the promise of frost. You wrapped a blanket around yourself and Hongjoong, sharing the warmth as best you could. The lantern hanging from the carriage’s front swayed with each bump, casting erratic shadows that danced across the landscape.

The path ahead was long and treacherous, leading through dense forests and over rocky hills. Every so often, the carriage would hit a particularly deep rut, jolting you both almost freaking the horse out numerous times.

Luckily for you, Hongjoong was some kind of animal whisperer and managed to calm the horse pretty quickly each time.

As the hours passed, the moon climbed higher in the sky, its pale light filtering through the bare branches of the trees. The forest around you was alive with nocturnal sounds - the hoot of an owl, the rustle of leaves, the distant cry of a fox. You kept a wary eye on the shadows, aware that danger could lurk in the darkness.

Dawn was beginning to break when the carriage crested a hill, revealing a panoramic view of the valley below. The first light of day painted the landscape in soft hues of pink and gold, the rolling hills stretching out like a patchwork quilt. It was a moment of fleeting beauty, a reminder of the world beyond your troubles.

“It's so pretty here,” you whispered. Hongjoong hummed in return, his gaze slowly becoming more and more unfocused.

He was tired, and in desperate need for some rest.

“Let me drive for a while,” you said softly, touching Hongjoong's arm. “You need to rest.”

Hongjoong shook his head, though his exhaustion was evident. “I’ll rest later. We need to put as much distance between us and the town as possible.”

“Please,” you insisted, your voice gentle but firm. “You’re no good to me if you collapse from exhaustion. Let me take over until we find an inn.”

He hesitated, then finally nodded, knowing you were right. The carriage came to a halt, and you swapped places. As you took the reins, Hongjoong settled into the seat, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself. His eyes closed almost immediately, the tension in his body easing as he finally allowed himself to rest a little.

You guided the carriage along the winding road, the rhythm of the horse’s hooves a steady, comforting beat. The landscape around you began to change as the sun climbed higher, the dense forest giving way to open fields and distant mountains. 

Hours passed, and you kept a vigilant eye on the road ahead. Occasionally, you would glance back at Hongjoong, who slept fitfully, his brow furrowed even in rest. The evidence you had gathered against your husband lay safely tucked away, a lifeline that could clear Hongjoong’s name and secure your future together.

As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the fields, you spotted a small village nestled at the base of the mountains. It was far enough from your town that you felt safe enough to stop for a while. The village appeared peaceful and quiet, only a few people out on the street at this hour.

You gently shook Hongjoong awake as the carriage rolled to a stop at the edge of the village. He stirred, blinking groggily. “Where are we?”

“A village,” you replied, helping him down from the carriage. “We can rest here for the night.”

He nodded, too tired to argue. The two of you made your way to the inn, a modest building with a welcoming glow emanating from its windows. 

The inn's common room was a bustling hub of activity, filled with the sounds of laughter and the clinking of mugs. The innkeeper, a plump woman with kind eyes and a warm smile, greeted you as you approached the counter.

“Good evening, dear,” she said, her voice soft and welcoming. “What can I do for you?”

“We need a room for the night,” you replied, glancing back at Hongjoong, who was leaning heavily against the wall, fighting to stay awake.

The older woman nodded, her eyes flickering to Hongjoong before returning to you. "Of course, dear. We have one room available, but it only has one bed. I hope… that’s alright?”

Her eyes flickered towards your hand. There was no ring on it and so, if you took that single bed room, it would be quiet… frivolous.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks. You yearned to be close to him, to feel his warmth and comfort, but after everything that happened, the thoughts of sleeping close to someone terrified you. And, most important in this current situation; you weren’t married yet. 

Hongjoong, sensing your hesitation, stepped forward. “That will be fine,” he said softly, tired eyes settling upon your figure. “Thank you.”

It seemed you were the only one caring about appearances.

The innkeeper's smile widened, and she quickly handed you a key. “Room 3, just up the stairs. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask.”

You nodded, taking the key with trembling hands. “Thank you,” you managed.

You carefully led Hongjoong up the narrow staircase. The wooden steps creaked under your weight, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. It seemed that with your arrival, the sound of previous laughter had fully died down. Or maybe the ringing in your ears was too loud for you to notice any other noises. When you reached the door to your room, you hesitated for a moment before unlocking it and pushing it open.

The room was small but cozy, with a single bed pushed against one wall and a small window that offered a view of the village below. The bed was covered with a thick, quilted blanket, and a simple wooden chair sat in the corner.

Hongjoong sank onto the bed with a sigh, his eyes already half-closed. You stood awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong murmured, his voice gentle. “You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor.”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “No, you need to rest properly. We'll share the bed. It’s... it’s fine.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and gratitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, though your heart was pounding in your chest. “Yes. We'll manage. I trust you.”

And you did. What you did not trust though were your inner demons.

Hongjoong fully collapsed onto the bed, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. You sat beside him, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “Rest now,” you whispered. “We’ll figure out the rest in the morning. I'll go ahead and fetch us something to eat, okay?”

He nodded, his eyes already closing. You stayed by his side for a few minutes, then quietly left the room to look for food you both desperately needed.

After finding some bread, cheese, and a couple of apples in the inn's small kitchen, you returned to the room. The scent of the simple meal filled the space, mingling with the comforting warmth of the inn. Hongjoong stirred as you entered, his eyes slowly opening.

“Food,” you announced with a soft smile, sitting down on the edge of the bed and handing him a piece of bread. “It's not much, but it's something.”

He took the bread with a grateful smile, his fingers brushing against yours. “Thank you,” he murmured, taking a bite. “This is perfect.”

You both ate in silence for a while. Despite the simplicity of the meal, it felt like a feast after eating little to nothing the past few days. Hongjoong's presence, his gentle smile, and the way he looked at you with such trust and affection made the food taste even better.

As you carefully cut and shared the apples with him, your fingers occasionally brushed against his, each touch sending a small shiver down your spine. The tension of the past days seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and connection. You found yourself laughing softly at the way Hongjoong tried to juggle the uncut apples, almost dropping them.

“You're hopeless,” you teased, giggling as he finally managed to catch them.

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I'm just a man hopelessly in love,” he corrected, his tone playful yet sincere.

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, carefree sound that you hadn't heard from yourself in a long time. It felt good to laugh, to share this moment of lightness with him.

As the meal came to an end, you both settled back on the bed, the small space forcing you to be close. Hongjoong's warmth radiated against your side, his arm brushing against yours. Despite the comfort of his presence, your body immediately tensed.

The last time a man laid next to you, he'd done unspeakable things to you. 

But this… this was Hongjoong. Your Hongjoong.

You trusted him.

Yet at the same time, you were still terrified.

You tried to focus on his steady breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, but your heart raced, and your skin prickled with unease. You felt a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach, your muscles tightening involuntarily.

You couldn't breathe.

Hongjoong sensed your discomfort, his hand gently covering yours. “It's okay,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “I'm here.”

You nodded, but his reassurance did little to calm the storm inside you. Your mind was flooded with conflicting thoughts and emotions. The warmth of his body was both a comfort and a reminder of all you had endured. You wanted to relax, to let go and feel safe, but your body wouldn't allow it.

Your breathing quickened, your chest tightening. You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears, each beat drowning out every other sound. Your hands trembled, and you clutched the blanket tightly, trying to ground yourself.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his voice soft and steady. “Just breathe with me.”

“I can't,” you sobbed.

“Shhh. Just close your eyes.”

You did as he said, focusing on his voice, his warmth. Slowly, you matched your breathing to his. The tension in your muscles began to ease, though the fear still lingered at the edges of your mind.

Hongjoong's hand never left yours, his thumb tracing soothing patterns on your skin. “You're safe,” he whispered, his voice a balm to your frayed nerves. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. You squeezed his hand, finding strength in his presence. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. You felt the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest grounding you. “We'll get through this,” he murmured. “Together.”

“You know,” you slowly began, carefully turning around. Now, face to face with him, you carefully lifted your fingers and started tracing husband features; his acquainted eyebrows, over husband prominent cheekbones to his soft, plush lips, where you remained a little longer.

“I don't think I'd be alive without you, Kim Hongjoong. For that… for you, coming into my life and selflessly saving me, I am beyond thankful. But at the same time… at the same time, I can't help but think that if you'd never met me… you could still live your normal life. Sometimes… it gets all too much.”

You held his gaze, your fingers repeating your previous actions of lightly tracing the curve of his lips. “You’ve given me so much, Hongjoong,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “More than I ever thought I deserved.”

His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. “You deserve everything, Y/N. More than I could ever give.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache. “I don't know what I'd do without you,” you said, your voice breaking. “You've been my rock, my savior. I... I don't know if I can ever repay you.”

Hongjoong's hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers gently kneading the tension there. “You don't need to repay me. Just being with you is enough. Seeing you smile, hearing your laughter... that's all I need for the rest of my life.”

You closed your eyes, savoring the feel of his touch. His fingers were warm and strong, yet so gentle. It was a stark contrast to the harshness you had known before. 

“You shine so bright, Joongie. Like the sun. My sun.”

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. “And you will shine like that too again. Soon,” he breathed, his lips brushing against your skin. The intimacy of the moment made your heart race, but it wasn't fear this time. It was something else, something deeper.

Something only Kim Hongjoong could make you feel.

You opened your eyes, finding his face so close to yours that you could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “Hongjoong,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I'm scared. Not of you, but of losing you. Of the future. Of what might happen if they find us.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering. “We won't let that happen. We're stronger together. They won't find us. Once we're in the capital, I’ll handle everything, okay?”

His words gave you strength, and you found yourself leaning into him, your lips brushing against his in a tender, lingering kiss. It was slow and gentle, a silent promise of your love and devotion towards each other. His hand slipped into your hair, holding you close as your lips moved together, exploring and savoring each other.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathing heavily, your foreheads still touching. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice filled with pure, raw emotion.

Hongjoong's eyes softened, his thumb tracing your jawline. “And I love you,” he replied, his voice just as tender. “More than words can say.”

You stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. In his embrace, you felt safe, cherished, and deeply loved. The fear and anxiety that had plagued you began to fade, replaced by a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“Let’s rest now,” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm. “Tomorrow is a new day, and we’ll face it together.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. “Together,” you echoed, your voice steady.

He gently guided you down onto the bed, pulling the blanket over both of you. His arms remained around you, holding you close as you settled into the warmth of his embrace. 

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt his lips press a gentle kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “Goodnight, my love,” he murmured, his voice a soft caress.

“Goodnight,” you whispered back, your heart full. 

That night, you finally had a good, peaceful sleep.

“How long until we arrive at the capital?”

Hongjoong was leaning against the carriage window, his eyes scanning the horizon. A storm would be coming soon, he said.

“Two more days, if we keep this pace,” he replied, turning to face you. “The storm may slow us down a bit.”

You nodded. The journey had been long and exhausting, the constant tension of being on the run making you an anxious mess. But with Hongjoong by your side, you felt a strength you had never known before.

The carriage jostled along the uneven road, the sounds of the wheels clattering against the stones a constant reminder of the distance still left to travel. You glanced at Hongjoong, his face etched with determination despite the exhaustion that lingered in his eyes.

“We’ll make it,” you said softly, more to yourself than to him. “We have to.”

He reached out, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We will,” he affirmed, his voice steady. “And once we’re there, we’ll find a way to solve all this mess. To start over.”

You leaned against him, drawing comfort from his presence. 

You traveled through several more small villages, their inhabitants just beginning to stir. Farmers led their livestock out to pasture, and shopkeepers opened their doors, the smell of fresh bread and morning fires wafting through the air. The sight of these simple, everyday routines filled you with a strange sense of peace, a reminder that life went on, and that, maybe in the future, your life may look like this too.

Simple yet happy and fulfilling.

And then, you arrived. 

You gasped as the large gates of the city appeared in front of you.

The capital was a sprawling maze of streets and alleys, bustling with activity. Everything here was just so much larger, louder and generally more impressive, a stark contrast to the quiet, simpler life you had known. The noise and commotion seemed to close in around you, but Hongjoong’s steady presence kept you grounded.

“It's a lot to take in, right?” he asked.

You nodded, mouth opened in awe as you took in your surroundings. “It's huge. I can't stop looking everywhere!”

He laughed, gently squeezing your hand. “We'll have plenty of time to explore everything once we've settled in properly. I'll show you all my favorite places, okay?”

You smiled at him. A gentle, real smile. “Okay!”

Hongjoong looked around, his eyes bright with excitement despite the exhaustion. “Luckily for us, two of my closest friends live here. They’re good people, and I’m sure they’ll offer us a place to stay.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you. “That would be wonderful. I can’t wait to meet them. You haven't told me much about your past, so I’m really excited, Joongie.”

“In the future, I'll tell you everything you want to know. My past, present and future are yours, Y/N.”

Your heart fluttered, and a deep blush coated your face. A sheepish smile stole its way onto your lips.

Hongjoong led you through the bustling streets, expertly navigating the maze of alleys and markets. After a few twists and turns, you arrived at a modest but welcoming home. 

He hastily jumped up the carriage and then held his hand out for you to take it. You smiled at him. Your lover was a true gentleman, and it made you feel all giddy inside, even at such a small gesture.

Hongjoong knocked on the door, and moments later, it swung open to reveal a tall, athletic man with sharp features and an inquisitive look.

“Hongjoong?” the man said in surprise, his eyes widening. The first thing you noticed was his clothes. They looked… expensive. And yet, he lived in such a small home.

You wondered what his story was.

“What are you doing here?”

“San, it’s a long story,” Hongjoong replied, pulling San into a hug. “We need a place to stay. Is Wooyoung home?”

San nodded, stepping aside to let you both in. “He’s in the kitchen. Come in.”

As you stepped inside, you were immediately greeted by the comforting smell of home-cooked food. A few moments later, another man appeared, carrying a tray of freshly baked bread. He had a playful sparkle in his eyes and a welcoming smile on his face.

“Who do we have here?” Wooyoung asked, setting the tray down and wiping his hands on a towel.

“Wooyoung, this is my friend,” Hongjoong introduced you. “She's been traveling with me.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in surprise and then softened. “Well, any friend of Hongjoong’s is welcome here. Please, make yourself at home.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at their genuine hospitality. San and Wooyoung led you to a cozy living room where a fire crackled in the hearth. You sank into a comfortable chair, letting out a sigh as your aching muscles relaxed.

“Sorry for the sudden arrival,” Hongjoong said, his tone sincere. “We didn’t have time to send word ahead.”

San waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. We’re just glad you’re safe. What’s going on?”

Hongjoong looked at you first, before briefly explaining: “It's too long of a story to share in detail. But, we had to flee from where we came from and are now on a mission to… clear up some misunderstandings. I can promise you two that you'll be kept out of any trouble. I just… need a safe place, especially to keep my woman safe.”

San nodded, curiously glancing towards you as the words ‘my woman’ left Hongjoong’s mouth. You smiled awkwardly at the man. “We have a spare room you can use, Hongjoong.”

Tears of gratitude welled up in your eyes. It wasn't much, but just having a place to stay, surrounded by people you knew Hongjoong trusted, was enough to make you feel all sorts of emotions. 

“Thank you,” you said, your voice choked with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

Hongjoong squeezed your hand again, his own eyes full of gratitude. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispered softly. “Wooyoung and San are good, nice people. How about you just relax and befriend them while I'll do the work, hm?”

“I couldn't possibly-”

“Oh, but you can”, he interrupted you, playfully playing with your hair. “My Y/N should never worry her pretty head about anything again now that she's with me.”

You giggled sheepishly. “Oh Joongie, you're such a flirt!”

“Ahem.” A voice interrupted you and suddenly, the bubble around the two of you burst and you were reminded that you were not alone but, in fact, in the house of two men who were now very openly staring at you.

One who was cackling behind his hand like a menace - Wooyoung - and the other one who did not know where he should look. You, or the very interesting ceiling?

“So, ‘my woman', huh?” Wooyoung teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Since when did you become such a romantic, Hongjoong? And most importantly: where’s our invitation to the wedding?”

Hongjoong’s ears turned a deep shade of red, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wooyoung, now’s not the time…”

“Oh, but it’s always the time for love, Joongie!” Wooyoung replied with a dramatic flourish. “Here we were, thinking you were just wandering around from city to city and selling your dresses, but no, you were secretly out there sweeping a lovely lady off her feet!”

San tried to interject, a desperate attempt to hold the man beside him back. “Wooyoung, maybe we should-”

“San, don’t be a killjoy,” Wooyoung interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “This is the most excitement we’ve had in weeks! Besides, our Hongjoong, who couldn't even look a woman into the eye the last time we saw him, has finally grown up. We must celebrate!”

“I'm older than both of you, Wooyoung!”

Hongjoong buried his face in his hands, clearly embarrassed. You couldn’t help but giggle at the situation, feeling a bit more at ease in the presence of the two strangers now.

“Y/N, you should know,” Wooyoung continued, leaning in conspiratorially, “Hongjoong here is quite the catch. He’s a gentleman, a true and talented dressmaker, and apparently, a poet. ‘My woman’, indeed.”

San finally managed to find his voice. “Alright, Wooyoung, give them a break. They’ve had a long journey, and they need rest, not your joking.”

Wooyoung pouted dramatically. “Fine, fine. But don’t think this conversation is over, Hongjoong. We need all the juicy details later.”

Hongjoong groaned, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “You never change, do you, Wooyoung?”

“Never,” Wooyoung replied proudly. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

San shook his head, though a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s get you both settled in. You can rest, and we’ll talk more later. Until then Wooyoung, behave yourself.”

Wooyoung saluted playfully. “Aye, aye, captain!”

Later that evening, after a hearty meal and much laughter with Wooyoung and San, you were led into a small, cozy room. The modest bed in the corner looked incredibly inviting after the long journey. You quickly freshened up, San kindly lending you some spare clothing for the night, before returning back to the room. Hongjoong was already there, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling lost in thought. You quietly slipped in beside him, the bed creaking softly under your weight.

He turned to you, his expression softening as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

“Tired,” you admitted, snuggling closer to him. 

Only then did you realize that, despite sharing the bed with him multiple times now, this was the first time both of you wore proper sleeping clothing. Therefore, both of you were a bit… more exposed than usual.

Suddenly, you were very, very aware of the naked skin his hand was occasionally touching.

And your heart skipped a beat. This time, not of the usual warmth Hongjoong ignited within you all the time.

No, this time, there was also a hint of fear rushing through your veins.

You closed your eyes for a moment, savoring the softness of his touch, yet the past clung to you like a shroud, and you felt a flicker of hesitation within you.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, low and soothing, “you can trust me.” There was an earnestness in his tone, a promise that echoed in the silence of the room. He shifted closer, his body radiating heat and a sense of safety that beckoned you to let go of your fears and open your eyes to meet him.

Nothing but sincerity and love greeted you in his gaze.

As his hand traced a gentle path along your arm, you shivered at the sensation. It was a touch that was so different from what you had known, devoid of the harshness that had once marred your skin and spirit. His fingers danced lightly over your wrist, and you felt a rush of warmth that sent a thrill through your heart, igniting a yearning you had thought was lost forever.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. You nodded carefully. It was a struggle to separate the innocence of his affection from the painful memories that tainted your every being. You could feel your breath quicken as he leaned closer, the scent of him - fresh and comforting - surrounding you like a soft embrace.

Hongjoong’s fingers slipped beneath your chin, tilting your face towards his. The way he looked at you, with such reverence and care, made your heart ache. “You’re safe with me,” he murmured, and it felt like a balm to your soul. You had craved this kind of tenderness, and even though the man in front of you was willing to give it to you, to give you his all, a remaining feeling of panic remained deep inside of you.

“I'm sorry you have to deal with this again. One may think that after we slept side by side so many times already I would get used to it. I don't know why I'm so pathe-”

“Princess, don't you dare finish this sentence. You're incredible and don't have to apologize for a single thing.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips softly against yours, a gentle caress that sent shivers down your spine. It was a kiss that said so, so much, a kiss that was patient and completely unhurried. You melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body envelop you like a protective cocoon.

You did your best to believe in his words.

That night, nothing more happened. 

Hongjoong knew that it would take you a long while to truly let go of your fears.

And, while tracing more gentle kisses along your skin, all he said was: “I don't need you to give me your body to know that you are already mine and I am yours.”

The next day, as you slowly woke up and blinked the tears away, you noticed two things immediately: winter was coming, and the temperatures were dropping quickly and, most importantly; Hongjoong's side of the bed was empty.

There was no logical explanation for the panic that immediately set in, yet you felt your chest tightening and your heart pounding quickly. You rushed out of bed, almost stumbling over your own feet as you slipped into the soft pantoffels San provided you with, and sprinted down the stairs. 

“Woah, what's the rush-”

“Wooyoung”, you interrupted the man with sleepy, still half-closed eyes, “Where's Hongjoong?”

He scratched the back of his hand. “He left when you fell asleep last night. All he said was that he had some matters to take care of and would be back early in the morning. He… isn't back yet?”

The weight of Wooyoung's words hit you like a train. If Hongjoong had promised to be back by morning, then where was he? The sun was already peeking through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room, and there was still no sign of him. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to make sense of the situation.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as the panic threatened to overwhelm you. “No… he isn't back yet,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt foreign on your tongue. 

Wooyoung's expression shifted from confusion to concern. “Maybe he got held up somewhere? You know how he is… always taking on more than he should.”

You shook your head, refusing to accept that as the answer. “He wouldn't just leave without telling me. Not like this.” 

But what if he would? 

The unease in your chest grew stronger, the fear tightening its grip around your heart.

Wooyoung reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Let's not jump to conclusions. Maybe he's on his way back right now.”

But you could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the doubt he was trying so hard to hide. The pit in your stomach deepened, and you knew you couldn't just sit around waiting, hoping that everything would be okay. 

“I need to find him,” you said, determination lacing your voice. You quickly turned on your heel, heading for the door without another word.

"Wait!" Wooyoung called after you, but you were already halfway out the door, your mind set on one thing: finding Hongjoong.

And then you pumped head first into San.

“Careful, little one. What's the-”

“Have you seen Hongjoong?” you blurted out, your voice trembling as you nearly collided with San.

San’s usually warm expression was replaced with a frown. “No, I haven’t. What’s going on? Why are you in such a rush?”

You hesitated, your mind racing. Should you tell them? Would they even understand? Hongjoong hasn't told them anything concrete about your situation as of now, and you weren't sure if you should tell them without him present.

“He’s… He’s not back yet. Wooyoung said he left last night, but he should’ve been back by now.”

San’s eyes widened. “And he hasn't said where he's going?”

You shook your head, fighting to keep your voice steady. “No. But I... I can’t just sit around and wait. I need to find him.”

San looked conflicted, glancing over at Wooyoung, who had followed you outside. “But you don’t know your way around the capital. You could get lost or… worse.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but San gently placed a hand on your arm, stopping you. “I get that you’re worried, but let’s wait a bit longer, okay? He wouldn’t want you getting into trouble trying to find him.”

The thought of sitting around doing nothing while Hongjoong was out there - somewhere - felt unbearable. He was shouldering all your problems alone, and it made you both guilty and mad that he didn't even tell you a single thing. 

Reluctantly, you nodded, and San led you back inside the house. The atmosphere was heavy as the three of you settled into the living room, the clock on the wall ticking away the minutes in agonizing slowness.

“So… uh…”

Awkward silence set in, both men looking at each other concerned. Wooyoung, trying to lighten the mood, leaned back on the couch and stretched.

“Uh.. Did you know that San literally can't sleep without hugging something? And with something, I mean me - like, this man doesn't know how strong he is and literally suffocates me every night!”, he laughs.

You glanced at San, who looked somewhat mortified, a blush creeping up his neck. “Wooyoung…” he muttered, giving him a half-hearted glare. Unfortunately, his joke did nothing to soothe your nerves. If anything, it only made the awkwardness more palpable. “Uh, that's… interesting,” you mumbled, not really knowing what else to say. You liked them both, but conversations with them always felt like you were navigating a minefield, unsure of where to step. 

Especially now that Hongjoong wasn't here with you.

San rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “It's not like that, really. It's just… a comfort thing, I guess.”

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, stealing glances at Wooyoung and San, who were both trying, in their own ways, to lighten the atmosphere. They were being so kind, so patient, but it only made you feel worse. You weren’t used to this. It was foreign, almost suffocating, in a way you couldn't quite understand. 

Wooyoung cleared his throat, breaking the silence, seemingly ignoring that you still haven't said anything to his joking attempt to lighten the mood. “So, uh, have you had breakfast yet? I can make something if you’re hungry.”

You shook your head, though the thought of eating made your stomach twist in a knot. “No, I’m… I’m not really hungry.” 

“Coffee, then?” San offered, trying to keep the conversation going. “Or tea? I think there’s still some left in the kitchen.” 

You hesitated, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “Maybe… tea?” It felt like the right thing to say, even if you weren’t sure you could stomach anything right now. 

San nodded, giving you a small, encouraging smile. “Tea it is. I’ll be right back.” He got up, his footsteps almost too loud in the quiet room, leaving you alone with Wooyoung. The silence between you and the other man was thick, both of you unsure of what to say. You could feel his gaze on you, but you kept your eyes fixed on the floor, afraid that if you looked up, he’d see just how out of sorts you really were.

Wooyoung shifted in his seat, clearly trying to come up with something to break the tension. “You know, I don’t think we’ve really had the chance to talk much… Just us,” he said.

“Yeah,” you murmured, feeling your cheeks heat up. You wanted to be able to talk to him, to say something normal, but the words just wouldn’t come. It was frustrating - feeling like you were locked inside your own head, even when you desperately wanted to reach out. He leaned back, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I get it, though. Meeting new people can be… overwhelming.”

You looked up at him. “It’s just… I’m not really used to this. To any of this,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Wooyoung nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I figured. But hey, no pressure. We’re just… trying to make you feel welcome, you know? You're Hongjoong's girl, after all.”

“I know,” you replied quickly, feeling a pang of guilt. “I really appreciate it. I do. It’s just… hard, sometimes.”

He didn’t press you, just nodded again, his eyes soft. “It’s okay. We’re not in any rush. We’ve all got our own issues, you know?”

Before you could respond, San returned, holding a steaming mug of tea. He handed it to you with a small, reassuring smile. “Here you go. It’s chamomile - good for relaxing.” 

“Thanks,” you whispered, wrapping your hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into your skin. 

San settled back into his seat, the three of you once again falling into a somewhat awkward silence. You sipped your tea, the warmth soothing your throat, but it did little to calm the turmoil inside you. They were trying so hard, and that only made it worse. You could see the effort in every glance, every word. They didn’t know your past, your struggles, and you didn’t know how to tell them - didn’t even know if you should. And so you stayed quiet, trapped in your own thoughts, feeling like an outsider despite their best efforts.

“I guess… I’m just not good at this,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“At what?” San asked gently, leaning forward slightly.

“Talking. Being around people. Making… friends I don’t know how to…” You trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Wooyoung chuckled softly, not in a mocking way, but as if he understood more than you realized. “You’re doing just fine. We’re not exactly pros at this either, you know. Most of the time, we’re just winging it.”

San nodded in agreement. “He’s right. It’s okay to not know what to say. We’re just… glad you’re here.”

Their words made something inside you ache. You still weren’t used to kindness without strings attached, to people caring just because. It felt undeserved, even after Hongjoong showed you that you did in fact deserve it, and that made you even more unsure of how to act. 

“Thanks,” you whispered, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. You wanted to be better at this, for them, for Hongjoong, but you didn’t know how.

Wooyoung grinned, nudging your shoulder lightly. “No need to thank us. We’re all in this together, right?”

You nodded, managing a small smile in return. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And that was enough for now.

If someone would've told you that you'd ever be genuinely mad at Kim Hongjoong, you definitely would've laughed right in their face. Because Hongjoong was the kindest, sweetest man you'd ever known, so what would ever make you angry at him?

“Ah, look who's back,” was all you said as you heard the door close behind you.

You had never imagined feeling this way toward Hongjoong, the man who you grew to love so much. But now, as you stood in your shared living room, hearing the door close behind you, that anger burned hotter, fueled by the fear and helplessness that had consumed you all morning.

You didn't turn around to face him immediately, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. Your mind raced with thoughts, each one only making the knot in your chest tighter. 

The sound of his footsteps approaching filled the room, and you could feel his presence behind you, close enough to touch. For a moment, you considered letting it go, just brushing it all under the rug like you’d done with so many things before. But this was different. This problem wasn't just his alone; this was your life too, your problems, your fears, and he had just walked away, leaving you in the dark.

Hongjoong hesitated. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” he began, but that was all it took to make you whirl around, your emotions spilling over.

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” The words came out harsher than you intended, but you couldn’t stop them. “You left without saying a word, Hongjoong. I don't even know where you went! You promised you’d be back by morning, and then you just… didn’t come back. It's almost midnight now! Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

His eyes widened, clearly taken aback by your outburst. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” he said, his voice softening, but you could see the guilt in his eyes. “I just had to take care of some things-”

“But why alone?” you interrupted, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Why do you always do this? You think you have to handle everything by yourself, like I’m some fragile thing that needs to be protected. But this is my problem too, Joong! I have a right to know, to help, to be there with you! Because…” your voice broke, and you looked at the floor as you wiped a tear away, “because the guilt is eating me alive, Joong. Without me… without me, none of this would have ever happened. It all began with me, so I should… I should take responsibility too.”

Hongjoong’s expression softened as he saw the tears welling up in your eyes. “Hey, hey, no,” he murmured, stepping closer and reaching out to cup your face, but you took a step back and shook your head silently.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Don’t act like this is just something we can brush aside, like it’s no big deal. You think you’re protecting me by keeping things from me, but you’re not. You’re only making it worse. I can’t keep doing this, Joong. I can’t keep pretending that it’s okay for you to shut me out. For you to shoulder everything alone.”

Hongjoong’s hand dropped to his side, his face crumbling with regret. “I never wanted to shut you out. I just… I didn’t want you to worry, didn’t want you to feel like you had to carry this burden. You're still so… hurt. I thought I was doing the right thing by handling it on my own.”

“But it’s not just your burden to carry!” you cried, your voice breaking. “We’re supposed to be in this together, Joong. You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle. You don’t get to just leave me in the dark, wondering if you’re okay, wondering if you’ll even come back. I was worried sick the whole day!”

His eyes were filled with a pain that mirrored your own, and for a moment, he looked like he didn’t know what to say, like he didn’t know how to make this right. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you. I’m so, so sorry.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over your cheeks as you looked at him, at the man you loved more than anything in the world, the man who had somehow become a stranger to you in this moment. 

“I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight,” you mumbled. “You may talk to me again when you're finally ready to include me in your plans. Until then… good night, Joong.”

“Y/N, wait-”

But the door shut close behind you before he could finish his sentence.

“H‐hey, I'm sorry, I really didn't want to eavesdrop, but I heard you two arguing...” San’s voice trailed off, his gaze meeting yours. The moment your tear-filled eyes locked with his, the emotions you’d been trying so hard to keep in check threatened to overflow.

For a second, you hesitated. You weren’t close to San - not really. He was still more of a stranger than a friend, someone who was kind and caring but still somewhat distant. But right now, you felt like you were drowning, and he was the only solid thing within your reach.

Without thinking, you moved towards him. As soon as you reached him, you hesitated again, but before you could pull back, San’s arms wrapped around you in a warm, protective embrace. You buried your face in his chest, and the dam inside you finally broke.

Tears poured down your cheeks as you cried against him, the sobs you’d been holding back all day finally breaking free. San stiffened for a moment, clearly caught off guard, but he quickly relaxed, his hold tightening slightly as he let you cry it out.

The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear - it was the first comfort you’d felt all day. But even as he stood there comforting you, you still felt torn. The only person you'd ever fully confined in was Hongjoong. This was new territory for you, and it was both comforting and terrifying at the same time.

San didn’t say anything, just stood there quietly, holding you as you trembled in his arms. His hand moved slowly to your back, rubbing gentle circles as he tried to soothe you. His touch was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing.

As your sobs subsided, leaving you with shaky breaths and red, tear-streaked cheeks, you slowly pulled back, wiping your eyes. You were still in his arms, but you felt the awkwardness creeping back in, and your gaze wandered again, not knowing where to look.

“I… I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. “I didn’t mean to…”

San shook his head, his gaze softening. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said quietly. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to break down sometimes.”

You managed a small, shaky smile, but the uncertainty was still there, lingering between you. “I just… I don’t know what to do, San. I feel so lost. Hongjoong… he means everything to me, but he’s shutting me out. I know he has only my best interest at heart, but… This is my story, too. And I don’t know how to handle that.”

San hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “I’m not gonna pretend I know exactly what you’re going through,” he began, “but I do know that Hongjoong cares about you - more than you probably realize. He’s just… used to handling things on his own. ”

You nodded.

“You’re… you’re really kind, San,” you murmured, your voice still trembling. “But we barely know each other. I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

San’s expression softened even more, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You’re not a burden. We all have our struggles, and sometimes it helps to have someone to lean on, even if it’s someone you’re not that close to… yet.” He added that last word with a gentle emphasis, as if offering a bridge to something more.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and for the first time, you felt a small crack in the walls you've built around yourself. 

And so, in the heat of the moment, you told him everything. San brought you to the living room, where he carefully sat you down and wrapped you in a blanket, and as Wooyoung joined you two, you told them everything.

About your marriage, your family, your town - and about the man who took it upon himself to save you from this cruel fate.

The tension between you and Hongjoong had been unbearable for days. Ever since that night, neither of you had spoken more than a few words to each other. 

You had thrown yourself into anything that could keep your mind busy - cleaning, reading, anything to avoid thinking about the rift that had formed between you and the man you loved. 

Then, one evening, as you sat alone in the living room, lost in thought, you heard the front door creak open. Hongjoong stepped in, his presence immediately filling the room with the weight of everything left unsaid. Your heart clenched at the sight of him - he looked exhausted, worn down by the stress of the past few days.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at you, as if trying to gauge your mood, before finally breaking the silence. “We need to talk.”

The words sent a chill down your spine, but you nodded, too tired to resist any longer. “Okay,” you said quietly, standing up from the couch and facing him.

Hongjoong swallowed, his throat bobbing as he struggled to find the right words. “I know you’re still angry at me,” he began, his voice low and strained. “And I understand why. I learned my lesson, Y/N. But now… now I wanna include you. If you… if you want that.”

You didn’t say anything, just watched him, your heart beating faster as he continued.

“There’s someone we need to see,” he said after a pause, his eyes searching for yours. “Someone who can help us, who can clear my name and… maybe, just maybe, give us a chance at a life without all this running and hiding.”

You blinked, not sure if you’d heard him correctly. “Who… who are you talking about?”

Hongjoong took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “The Queen,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s the only one powerful enough to undo this mess. I’ve been trying to arrange a meeting with her for days, but she’s… she’s not easy to reach. But now… now we can finally meet her.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “The Queen? As in… the Queen?” 

The Queen was a figure of almost mythical power, someone so far removed from your world that the idea of asking for her help seemed as impossible as wishing on a star.

But Hongjoong’s expression was deadly serious, and you could see the determination burning in his eyes. He wasn’t just grasping at straws - he truly believed this was your last chance, your only hope to end the nightmare that had taken over your lives.

“The Queen,” he confirmed, his voice steady, though his hands were shaking slightly as he reached out to you. 

“You know… I… I’ve worked for her for years, Y/N. I made her gowns, her dresses, the wedding dress she wore when she married the King… that was mine. She told me once, when I presented it to her, that if I ever needed anything, anything at all, she would do her best to help me. And I never thought I’d have to take her up on that offer, but now… I have no other choice.”

“The Queen… oh my God,” you whispered. “This is… insane.”

The reality of what Hongjoong was saying began to sink in, and your mind spun with the implications. The Queen, the most powerful woman in the kingdom, someone who could alter the course of your lives with just a single word… It was overwhelming, to say the least. You’d grown up hearing stories about her, tales of her beauty, wisdom, and strength. But those were just stories. The idea of meeting her, let alone asking for her help, seemed impossible. Yet here Hongjoong was, standing in front of you, serious and resolute.

“I know it sounds insane,” Hongjoong said, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “But this is our best chance, Y/N. Maybe our only chance. And we have evidence. The letters, remember?

“-And the scars on my body,” you whispered. 

Hongjoong bawled his hands, his jaw clenching immediately. “You never… told me you had remaining scars.”

You nodded. “Ignoring them is easier. I try to… forget them entirely when I can.”

Without a word, he moved closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a silent gesture of comfort. You leaned into him, the warmth of his body making you relax immediately.

After a moment, he cleared his throat, shifting the focus back to the task at hand. “We need to get ready,” he said, his voice steady. “If we’re going to meet the Queen, we can’t go in looking like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“There’s no time to waste. I have to make something for us,” he said, determination flashing in his eyes. “We need to look elegant. I might not have my supplies here, but I can work with what we have.”

Your heart raced at the thought of him making outfits from scratch. “Are you sure you can do that?”

He nodded firmly, already moving toward the small room where you were temporarily staying in Wooyoung and San's house. “I’ll figure it out. Just give me a minute to gather some things.”

You watched as he began searching through the limited fabric and materials you had, his hands working swiftly. He rummaged through the closet, pulling out old sheets and any leftover clothing you had brought along. You felt a mixture of admiration and anxiety as you realized the weight of what he was attempting to do.

“What do you need me to do?” you asked, stepping closer to him.

“There's a shop nearby that sells fabrics,” he said, already rummaging through his pockets for money, “I need you to buy me some. Can you do that?”

Your heart raced at the urgency in his voice, but a wave of uncertainty washed over you. “Uh, sure, but... I’m not sure where it is,” you admitted, glancing out the window. The sun was starting to set, and you were acutely aware of the time slipping away.

“I’ll draw you a quick map,” he said, moving quickly to grab a scrap of paper and a pen. He sketched a simple layout, marking the route to the shop with clear, careful lines. “You can do this, Y/N. Just follow the map, and don’t let anyone see you.”

You nodded. “What do you need me to get?” 

“Just some quality fabric, something that looks nice but isn’t too extravagant. Maybe something dark for me, something light and flowing for you,” he instructed, glancing up at you. “Can you remember that?”

You took a deep breath, nodding again. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Great,” he said, folding the paper and handing it to you. “I’ll need you back as soon as possible. We don’t have much time.”

“I’ll be quick,” you promised. As you turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of him, already immersed in his work, the fabric and thread strewn across the table like a chaotic canvas. 

As you stepped outside, the cool evening air hit your face. You followed the map he had drawn. The shop wasn’t far, and soon you found yourself standing in front of a small fabric store, the sign creaking softly in the breeze.

Once inside, the overwhelming scent of textiles filled your senses. Bolts of fabric in every color and texture lined the walls, and the shopkeeper gave you a curious look as you stepped in. Remembering Hongjoong’s instructions, you immediately focused on finding something that fit his descriptions. 

After scanning the shelves, you spotted a soft, flowing fabric in a light cream color that seemed perfect. You could almost picture how beautiful it would look on you. With that in mind, you also searched for a darker fabric for Hongjoong. You settled on a deep navy blue, rich yet understated, that would complement the cream tone perfectly.

With your choices made, you approached the counter, your heart pounding as you handed over the money Hongjoong had given you. The shopkeeper smiled and carefully wrapped the fabric. 

“Thank you,” you said, clutching the bundle tightly as you headed back outside. 

As you stepped through the door of Wooyoung and San's house, you saw Hongjoong still working diligently. He looked up, his eyes lighting up as he saw the fabric in your arms. “You did it!” he exclaimed, taking the fabric from you. “This is perfect!”

You smiled, relieved to see his excitement. “I hope it’s what you wanted. I wasn’t sure…”

“It’s exactly what I needed,” he said, moving quickly to lay the fabric out on the table. “Now, we can start putting everything together.”

Hongjoong spread the fabrics across the table, eyes gleaming with purpose. “This is going to be incredible,” he said, barely able to contain his excitement. You watched him with admiration as he quickly sketched designs in his notebook, his mind racing with ideas.

The first night stretched on, the room dimly lit by a single lamp casting shadows on the walls. You could hear the rhythmic hum of the sewing machine as Hongjoong lost himself in the work. 

Time blurred as the night turned into dawn, and you found yourself falling in and out of sleep. The only sounds were the soft whir of the machine and the occasional rustle of fabric. You’d occasionally catch Hongjoong stealing glances at you, and though he was clearly exhausted, there was a fire in his eyes that wouldn't die down.

By morning, the first pieces of your outfits began to take shape. “Look at this,” Hongjoong said, holding up the bodice of your gown. His excitement was contagious, and you couldn't help but smile. “It’s coming together beautifully, don’t you think?”

“It’s stunning, Hongjoong,” you replied, your heart swelling with admiration. “I can't wait to see the final piece.”

As he set it down and returned to his work, you noticed how hard he had to concentrate just to keep his eyes open. He was clearly pushing himself to the limit. You wanted to urge him to take a break, to rest for a moment, but you hesitated.

Hongjoong moved with practiced precision, cutting and sewing and cutting and sewing; repeating the same routine over and over again.

Yet, as the hours ticked by, his pace slowed down more and more.

“Hongjoong,” you finally said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Maybe you should take a break. You’ve been at this for so long.”

He paused, looking at you with those tired yet determined eyes. “I can’t stop now. We’re so close. I just need to finish your gown, and then I’ll rest, I promise.”

You sighed. “Okay, but promise me you’ll take care of yourself too. I don’t want you collapsing from exhaustion when we meet the Queen.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, but the laughter quickly faded as he nodded. “I promise, Y/N. Just a bit longer.”

A bit longer turned out to be one more day full of work.

On the evening of the second day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Hongjoong finally stepped back, surveying the gown he had made for you. The fabric flowed beautifully, a soft cream color with delicate embroidery that accentuates your figure. It was breathtaking.

“Look,” he said, gesturing to the dress. “It’s finished.”

“It doesn't matter how many dresses of yours I'll see, I'll always be amazed… you're so talented, Joongie,” you said, slowly stepping between his legs and carefully combing through his hair.

Hongjoong slung his arms around your waist and laid his head on your stomach, closing his eyes for a few minutes.

You took a deep breath, letting the warmth of his reassurance settle within you. “So, how exactly will we get to the palace?” you asked, trying to shift the focus from your worries to practical matters.

He pulled away slightly, his eyes brightening as he began to explain. “The Queen’s servants are discreet and efficient. After I sent word to her, she agreed to send a carriage for us. It should arrive tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?” The reality sent your heart racing again. “Do we have everything ready? What if something goes wrong?”

Hongjoong chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Don’t worry. Everything is in place. The only thing we need to do is stay calm.”

The following morning arrived way too fast. You woke to the sound of birds chirping outside and a warm breeze entering your room through the window.

Hongjoong was already up, carefully folding the outfits he had poured his heart into over the past two days. You stood up and approached him, placing a gentle hand on his back. “Are you ready for this?” you asked softly.

He nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, offering you a small smile. 

You gave him a reassuring nod yourself, though your own nerves were starting to fray. The idea of meeting the Queen, of putting your fate in her hands, felt surreal. But there was no turning back now. You quickly changed into the gown Hongjoong had created for you, the fabric cool against your skin, yet surprisingly comforting. It fit you perfectly, accentuating your form in all the right ways, the soft cream color making you feel both elegant and ethereal.

Though the dress Hongjoong created back in your hometown, the one so blue it reminded you if the sea itself, would always be your favorite, this one was nonetheless nothing but breathtaking. 

When you finally emerged, Hongjoong’s breath caught in his throat. He stared at you for a long moment, a proud smile stealing its way on his lips. “You look… beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Just like I imagined.”

You smiled, stepping closer to him. “You look amazing, too.”

Hongjoong's gaze softened as you stepped closer. All that mattered was him, standing before you, his eyes tracing every curve and line of your face.

You reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as you brushed a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. His breath hitched at the simple touch, and you could see the raw emotion in his eyes, the love, the desire, and the lingering regret of the days you'd spent apart. 

His hands found your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. The heat of his body against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest, 

Hongjoong’s eyes searched yours, silently asking for permission, for reassurance. You didn’t need to say a word - your eyes told him everything he needed to know. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

When his lips finally met yours, the world around you seemed to disappear. The kiss was slow, almost hesitant at first, as if he was savoring every second. His lips were soft, warm, and as they moved against yours, you felt a deep, aching need stirring within you, a need that had been building for days, weeks, months.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Hongjoong responded in kind, his grip on your waist tightening as his other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to gain better access. The kiss grew more intense, more passionate, as if all the emotions you'd both been holding back were pouring out in this one, desperate act.

You could taste the urgency on his lips, feel the way his heart was racing just as fast as yours. His tongue brushed against yours, sending a wave of heat through your body that made you feel like you were melting into him. The kiss was everything - sweet and tender, yet fierce and consuming.

Hongjoong’s hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you. You could feel the strength in his arms, the way his muscles tensed under your touch, and it only made you want him more. 

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Hongjoong’s eyes were half-lidded, his lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss. He looked at you with an expression that was equal parts awe and desire, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real, that this very moment here was real.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I love you so much.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you cupped his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs gently across his cheeks. “I love you too, Hongjoong. I always have. I always will.”

He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. And then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed you again, slow and deep, as if he had all the time in the world to show you just how much he loved you, how much you meant to him.

“You ready?” he asked as he took a step back. You instantly missed his lips on yours, but you nodded nonetheless. 

He offered you his hand, and you took it without hesitation.  

As you stepped aside, clearly overdressed in this rural neighborhood, the carriage was already waiting, a sleek, black vehicle with the Queen’s crest emblazoned on the side. The horses were well-groomed, their coats gleaming in the sunlight. A stern-looking driver stood by, his expression unreadable as he held the door open for you. With one last deep breath, you and Hongjoong climbed inside, settling onto the plush seats.

The carriage began to move slowly, the sound of the wheels clattering against the cobblestones filled the silence. You glanced at Hongjoong, who was staring out the window, his jaw clenched. 

For a while, neither of you spoke. You simply watched the world pass by outside. 

Finally, Hongjoong broke the silence, his voice low and contemplative. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

The question caught you off guard, and you turned to look at him, surprised by the sudden change in topic. But as you met his gaze, you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, a softness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in days.

The sudden shift in conversation caught you off guard, but a small smile crept onto your face as the memory came flooding back. “Of course, I remember,” you replied, chuckling softly. “How could I forget that? Ah, Django… I miss him… And Benji… oh God, my little Benji… I hope they're all well.”

“They are, my love. I'm sure they are.”

And then, as the carriage rounded a final bend, the palace finally came into view. It was a magnificent structure, with its white marble walls glowing in the fading light. The Queen’s residence was every bit as awe-inspiring as the stories had said, its towering spires reaching towards the heavens.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight, and you felt Hongjoong’s grip on your hand tighten.

As the carriage drew closer, you could see a group of palace guards standing right outside the gates, their armor gleaming under the soft glow of the lanterns that lined the pathway to the grand entrance. The carriage came to a smooth stop, and the driver emerged, opening the door for you and Hongjoong.

You took a deep breath. Hongjoong stepped out first, offering his hand to help you down. As your feet touched the ground, you felt a shiver run down your spine.

The grand doors of the palace opened with a slow, deliberate creak, revealing a tall, elegant woman dressed in a deep burgundy gown. Her presence was commanding, yet her expression was kind as she approached.

“Welcome,” she said, her voice smooth and authoritative. “The Queen has been expecting you.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hongjoong, who gave you a small nod, before you both followed the woman inside. The interior of the palace was just as breathtaking as the exterior, with high ceilings adorned with various paintings and chandeliers that sparkled like diamonds. The floor beneath your feet was made of polished marble, and the soft click of your shoes were echoing through the halls.

As you walked deeper into the palace, the grandeur only increased. Walls were lined with portraits of past kings and queens, their eyes seeming to follow you as you passed. 

Finally, you were led to a pair of ornately carved doors, which the woman pushed open with ease. Beyond them was a grand chamber, bathed in the warm light of a thousand candles. At the far end of the room, seated on a throne that seemed to be carved out of pure gold, was the Queen herself.

She was as regal as you had imagined, with an aura of quiet power that made the room feel smaller, the air more charged. Her hair was a rich, dark color, intricately braided and adorned with jewels that sparkled with every movement. Her eyes, sharp and intelligent, fixed on you and Hongjoong as you entered the room.

“Your Majesty,” Hongjoong said, bowing deeply before you had a chance to follow his lead.

The Queen’s gaze softened as she looked at Hongjoong, a small smile playing on her lips. “Rise, Hongjoong,” she said, her voice warm but firm. “It has been a long time.”

Hongjoong straightened up, but his grip on your hand tightened. You could feel the tension in his body as he struggled to maintain his composure. The Queen’s eyes flicked to you, her expression unreadable. “I see you have brought someone with you, Hongjoong. Please, both of you, come closer.”

You nodded, bowing deeply in respect. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Majesty,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anxiety that almost made you fall ill.

The Queen studied you for a moment before her gaze returned to Hongjoong. “I understand you’ve come to ask for my help?” she said, her voice carrying the weight of authority.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Hongjoong replied. “We’ve found ourselves in desperate need of your help. I’ve brought evidence to prove our case, but… there is also something that only Y/N can show you.”

The Queen raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “And what is this evidence?”

Hongjoong hesitated, glancing at you before speaking. “Your Majesty, before I ask Y/N to show you the evidence, I feel it’s important for you to understand her story - our story - in its entirety.”

The Queen nodded, her expression growing more serious as she settled back into her seat, indicating for him to continue.

Hongjoong took a long, deep breath. “Y/N came from a decent, middle-class family. They lived comfortably - not wealthy, but certainly not poor. Her future should have been secure, perhaps with a marriage that would maintain or even improve her standing in society. But things took a dark turn.”

He paused, glancing at you as if seeking your permission to continue. You gave him a small nod, and he went on, his voice heavy with emotion.

“Her father… he made a decision that changed everything. He married her off to a man well below her status - a drunkard, a violent brute. This man - he was no husband. He was a monster. He raped and beat her almost every day, treating her worse than a common servant. She was trapped in a nightmare, until she… until she had to kill him in self defense to save the both of us.”

“And to protect me,” you chimed in, your desperate gaze finding the woman before you before you continued: “J-joong- I mean, Hongjoong took the blame upon himself. He… he was about to be beheaded for a crime he didn't commit, so I… I took it upon myself to release him and flee with him.”

“We are here to plead our innocence, and to ask for a royal pardon of you, your Majesty,” Hongjoong spoke, standing proud and tall beside you, like the safe haven he always was for you.

“A royal pardon, you say?” she asked.

“Yes. Since no one in our town bothered to even investigate, we ask for you to review all evidence and overturn the decision.”

The Queen’s expression remained inscrutable, giving away nothing of her thoughts. Silence stretched in the grand chamber, broken only by the faint crackling of the candles and the distant echo of footsteps in the vast corridors beyond.

At last, the Queen rose from her throne, the jewels in her hair catching the light as she moved. She descended the steps from the throne with grace 

“I can see the truth in your eyes, but understand this - granting a royal pardon is not a decision I take lightly. There must be undeniable proof,” she said.

She turned to you, her sharp gaze assessing. “Y/N, I need you to show me the evidence Hongjoong mentioned. Whatever it is, it must be enough to convince me beyond doubt.”

You reached into your cloak, pulling out a stack of worn, yellowed letters tied together with a frayed ribbon. Your hands shook as you untied them, revealing the harsh, almost frenzied handwriting of your late husband. You could feel the Queen’s eyes on you, her gaze intense, as you stepped forward and placed the letters in her outstretched hand.

“These letters,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady, “are from my deceased husband. In them, he admits to everything - his abuse, his threats, and… even his intent to kill me one day. They are his own words, Your Majesty. Written in moments of drunken rage, or cruel clarity. He was proud of what he did, and he never hid that from anyone. But he was also reckless, and he left these behind, never thinking they might be used against him.”

The Queen’s expression remained unreadable once again as she began to read the letters. The room was silent save for the sound of rustling paper. With each page she turned, you felt your heart pound louder, your hands clasping Hongjoong’s tighter.

After what felt like an eternity, the Queen looked up from the letters. Her gaze was more somber now, tinged with something that might have been pity, or perhaps understanding.

“These letters are indeed compelling,” she said slowly, “but it alone is not enough. The word of a dead man, though through his own admission, cannot fully clear your names. I need more.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Your Majesty,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “the whole town knew what was happening. They turned a blind eye, because… because they didn’t want to get involved. I don’t know if I can rely on their testimony. But… my parents, though they looked away for so long, showed great remorse before I fled. They knew what was happening, and they did nothing to stop it. I… though I can never reconcile with them, I have no choice but to trust them this one last time.”

The Queen’s gaze softened slightly as she regarded you. “And you believe they will speak the truth, even now?”

You nodded, though you felt a knot of uncertainty in your stomach. “Yes, Your Majesty. They have to.”

The Queen considered this for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Very well. I will send for your parents and have them brought here to testify. But… there's another thing you want to show me, right?”

You swallowed hard. The letters had made an impact, but the Queen needed more, something undeniable. Your heart raced as you prepared to reveal the evidence that you had hidden for so long, even from yourself.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you replied, your voice trembling. “There is… one more thing I can show you.”

The Queen's eyes narrowed slightly. You hesitated, glancing at Hongjoong, who was watching you, his eyes telling more than words ever could. His presence gave you the strength to go on.

“My body bears the scars of my husband's cruelty,” you said quietly, “Scars that… tell the story of what he did to me.”

For a small second, something in her eyes flickered - perhaps sympathy, perhaps disgust at the thought of such brutality. But it disappeared as fast as it appeared, and she composed herself quickly. “Very well,” she said, her voice low and measured. “Show me.”

But before you could move, the Queen raised a hand to stop you. “Hongjoong,” she addressed him firmly, “you must wait outside. As you are not married, it would be inappropriate for you to remain here.”

Hongjoong looked like he wanted to protest, but he caught himself, understanding his words would make no impact. He nodded and gave you a reassuring look. “I’ll be right outside,” he said softly. “You’re not alone.”

You nodded, trying to offer him a smile. “Thank you, Hongjoong.”

As he was escorted out of the room, the Queen waited until the door closed before turning back to you. The room felt emptier without Hongjoong by your side, but you tried to stay calm nonetheless. 

As he left the room, the Queen gestured to a few of her attendants, and a group of maids quickly approached. Your dress was elegant, more elaborate than you were used to, and you realized you would need help to reveal the scars that were hidden beneath its layers.

The maids moved with practiced efficiency, unfastening the intricate clasps and loosening the delicate fabric of your gown. You felt a wave of vulnerability wash over you as they carefully peeled back the layers, revealing the faint, jagged lines etched into your skin. 

The Queen stepped closer, her gaze intense as she examined the marks. She didn’t speak, but her silence was heavy.

After a long moment, she stepped back, her eyes closing for a moment. “These scars… they cannot be ignored.” She turned to one of her attendants, a stern-looking guard who had been standing by the door. “Send for a scrivener,” she commanded. “These letters and the scars on her body must be documented.”

The man bowed and hurried out of the chamber, leaving you alone with the Queen and the maids, who carefully refastened your dress. The Queen’s eyes softened slightly as she looked at you. “Hongjoong has been a long confidante of mine, so naturally, he has my trust” she said, “But there is still a process that must be followed. The evidence will be recorded, and your parents and anyone else willing to testify will be brought before me. Until then, I must uphold the law.”

Once the scrivener arrived and began documenting the evidence, the Queen addressed you again. “You will be given quarters where you can rest,” she said, her tone kind but firm. “And I will ensure that you have everything you need until the trial begins. Be strong, Y/N. The truth will come to light.”

You bowed deeply. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

And with that, the Queen turned and left the chamber, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Now all you could do was wait.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong's voice reached you the moment you stepped into the tower room. But before you could even respond, you found yourself distracted by your surroundings. For a place meant to imprison you, the room was unexpectedly luxurious - far more so than anything you'd ever experienced. The walls were draped with rich tapestries and the bed was covered in soft linens. A large, plush rug covered the stone floor, and the air smelled faintly of lavender.

You paused, blinking in surprise at the sight. This was supposed to be your prison? It surely made you feel out of place, like it belonged to a royal guest chamber rather than a cell.

"Are you alright?" Hongjoong’s voice broke through your thoughts, concern etched in his features as he took a step closer to you. But before you could answer, the door behind you creaked open again, and a small group of maids entered.

“Your bath is ready, my lady,” one of them said with a polite bow, her voice soft yet firm. “Please, come with us.”

My lady?

You looked at Hongjoong, startled and confused. He gave you an encouraging nod, though he looked just as confused as you.

“Go on,” he said gently. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Reluctantly, you allowed the maids to lead you away, down a small corridor that connected to an adjoining room. The room was even more elaborate, with a large copper tub set in the center, already filled with steaming water that scented the air with rose petals and herbs. Thick, fluffy towels were neatly stacked nearby, and a selection of fine soaps and oils were arranged on a small table besides.

They helped you quickly undress and step into the bath. The warm water immediately melted away the tension from your muscles. As they poured fragrant oils into the water, your eyes closed and you sank deeper into the water. The maids worked in silence, their hands gentle as they washed your hair and scrubbed your skin with fine soaps. Eventually, the bath was over, and you were lifted from the water, wrapped in a thick, warm towel. The maids dried you off and led you to a big mirror where they brushed your hair and dressed you in a white nightgown that felt impossibly soft against your skin.

Once they were done, they stepped back, quietly observing you. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, almost not recognizing yourself. The nightgown was simple yet elegant, the white fabric almost transparent against your skin. It flowed down to your ankles, delicate lace trimming the neckline and sleeves. It made you look delicate and almost… sensual. 

Still deep in thought, you were guided back to the main room where Hongjoong was waiting. As you stepped into the room, you saw him pacing near the window, lost in thought. The moment he heard your footsteps, he turned around, and his breath hitched in his throat when he saw you.

For a long, long moment, he simply stared at you, his eyes wide as they traveled over your figure. His usual calm and collected demeanor seemed to crumble as a faint blush colored his cheeks. He quickly looked away, his jaw tightening as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“You-” Hongjoong began, his voice strained as he took a step closer, his gaze flicking back to you before quickly averting again. “You look… beautiful.” His words were quiet, and you could see the internal battle playing out within him as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

You could see the way his eyes darkened whenever he sneaked a glance at you, something that made your heart skip a beat. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch you but was holding himself back. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension.

Hongjoong cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure, but the way he avoided your gaze told you that he was struggling. “I… I didn't mean to stare,” he muttered, his voice rougher than usual. "I just… You-”

You took a step closer. Hongjoong's eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something raw and intoxicating in his expression - something that sent a shiver down your spine, something that made your mouth dry and your heart beat faster.

“Hongjoong,” you said softly, the sound of his name breaking the silence that had settled between you. “I'm fine. You can-”

“Sir, your bath is prepared as well,” one of the maids said with a polite bow. “Please allow us to assist you.”

Hongjoong stiffened slightly at the offer, clearly taken aback. “Uh, that's not necessary,” he stammered, his usual confidence faltering as a blush crept up his neck. “I can manage on my own.”

The maid, seemingly unfazed, simply nodded. “Of course, sir. But if you require anything, we will be right outside.” With that, she and the others gracefully exited the room, leaving the two of you alone once more.

Hongjoong let out a quiet sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair as he glanced back at you. “Well, I suppose I should... take that bath now,” he said.

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “I'll wait here,” you said softly, trying to ease the tension in the room.

He stood there for another moment, as if he wanted to say something more, but instead, he simply gave you a nod before retreating into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Desperately, you tried to distract yourself from the fact that the man of your dreams was completely bare just a few feet away. But just after a few minutes, you had to admit that it was pointless, and so, your feet took you to the bathroom once again.

You hesitated outside the door, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew this was a bad idea, that you were crossing a line, but curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.

Hongjoong was sitting in the tub, his back to the door, the water lapping gently around his figure. Steam filled the room, the scent of the same herbs and soaps you previously used in the air. His head was slightly bowed, his eyes closed, and he seemed lost in thought, completely unaware of your presence.

For a moment, you just stood there, silently watching him. His usually sharp features were entirely relaxed, his shoulders sacked as he soaked in the water. You couldn’t help but admire the way the droplets clung to his skin, the way the muscles in his back moved with each breath he took.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you silently crossed the room. The soft pads of your feet made no noise on the stone floor as you approached the tub. Without thinking, you reached for a cloth that was hanging nearby, dipping it into the warm water.

He still hadn’t noticed you as you knelt beside the tub. Your hand hovered for a moment before you gathered the courage to press the cloth gently against his back.

Hongjoong stiffened immediately, his eyes snapping open as he realized someone was there. He turned his head sharply, his eyes wide as he met your gaze.

“Y/N?” His voice was breathless, and he immediately tried to shield his naked body from you. “What are you doing?”

You bit your lip, trying to fight back the blush that was creeping up your cheeks. “I thought… I thought I’d help you relax,” you said softly, your voice trembling with nerves.

Hongjoong’s gaze flicked down to the cloth in your hand and then back to your face. His expression was unreadable, but you could see the way his breathing had quickened, the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

“Y/N… you don’t have to…” He trailed off, his voice faltering as you began to gently scrub his back, your movements slow and careful. You could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away under your touch.

He let out a shaky breath, his head dropping forward again as he allowed himself to relax. “You don't have to do this,” he murmured, though he didn't sound entirely convinced either.

You smiled a little, continuing your work, the cloth gliding over his skin in soothing circles. “Maybe not,” you whispered, “but I wanted to.”

Hongjoong’s breathing was uneven, each exhale shaky as you worked your way across his shoulders, the cloth tracing the lines of his muscles. You could see the way his body tensed, his fists clenching against the edge of the tub as if he was trying to control himself. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost pleading. “W-we should really stop… I-”

You gently pressed a finger against his lips, silencing him almost instantly. “Hongjoong,” you whispered, “I want to… I’m ready.”

His eyes found yours, wide with surprise and something else - something deeper. His gaze searched yours, as if he was trying to find any hint of uncertainty, any reason to stop this before it went too far.

But you didn’t waver. You had been through so much, had faced so many demons from your past, and now, standing here with him, you felt a sense of clarity you hadn’t in a long time. You wanted this, wanted him - wanted to break down the walls you had built so carefully around your heart.

Slowly, you leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his as you pressed a soft kiss to his temple. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact, a shiver running through his body. You could feel his resistance, the way he fought to hold himself back, but there was also something in the way he leaned into your touch, a silent plea for more.

Your lips traveled from his temple to his ear, brushing against the sensitive skin as you whispered, “I know you try to hold yourself back for my sake. But I’m not scared, Joongie. Not anymore.”

Hongjoong’s eyes were locked on yours, the intensity in his gaze making your breath hitch. Without breaking eye contact, he stood, water cascading off his naked, sculpted body, droplets glistening on his skin in the soft, dim light of the room. 

Before you could say anything, his arms wrapped around you, lifting you effortlessly from where you stood. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled you close, his wet skin soaking through your clothes as he carried you out the room. 

He reached the bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, the fabric cool against your heated skin. You looked up at him, your heart racing as he knelt beside you, droplets of water still clinging to his skin, his hair damp and falling into his eyes. He was completely bare, his body on full display, and yet his focus was entirely on you.

Slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, passionate kiss. His hand slid up your side, fingers grazing your ribs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing yours, fighting your own in a battle of dominance you quickly lost.

Hongjoong’s hand moved under your gown, and with a gentle tug, he began to lift it, his fingertips brushing against your skin as he pulled it over your head. The cool air hit your newly exposed skin, making you shiver, but the heat of his gaze warmed you instantly. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you, his eyes so full of love and lust it made you ache.

“You’re so, so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. He leaned in again, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving soft, lingering kisses as he made his way to your collarbone. Each kiss sent a jolt of electricity through you, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt him explore your body with his lips, his hands, his entire being.

He moved lower, his hands sliding over your skin, slowly. You shivered under his touch, your hands gripping the sheets as you tried to steady yourself, your heart pounding in your chest.

His hands moved delicately, tracing the lines of your body, exploring every curve, every dip, every inch of your skin. He was in no rush, savoring it all; every moment, every touch, every breath you took. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, it was as if he was worshiping you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

“Y/N,” he whispered against your lips, his voice shaky, filled with emotion. “I want this to be perfect for you… for us.”

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your eyes meeting his with a soft, reassuring smile. “It already is,” you murmured, your voice filled with the same emotion you saw reflected in his eyes. “You make everything perfect for me, Joongie.”

He smiled, a tender, almost shy smile that made your heart flutter. “I’ve wanted this for so long… wanted you for so long,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I know,” you whispered back, your fingers brushing through his damp hair. “I’ve wanted this too… I’ve wanted you.”

His breath caught in his throat, his eyes darkening with something deeper, more intense. “I’m scared… of hurting you,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “Of moving too fast.”

You shook your head gently, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. “You could never hurt me,” you assured him softly. “I trust you, Hongjoong. I’m ready… because I know these hands of yours could never hurt me like he did.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady himself. When he opened them again, they were filled with an intensity that took your breath away. “I want to love you… properly, Y/N.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love and adoration for the man above you. “Then love me, Hongjoong,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. “Love me the way you’ve always wanted to. Make me yours.”

He chuckled, before slowly lowering himself into you. “Silly woman. You've been mine the moment I met you.”

If anyone would've told you you'd ever see your parents on their knees, begging for mercy in front of you, you would've laughed right in their face.

But here you were. Witnessing it at this very moment.

Well, technically it wasn't in front of you - but the Queen, who was looking at them with intense, cold eyes.

You stood to the side, Hongjoong right beside you, close enough to witness every detail, yet far enough to keep the emotional distance you needed to not break down in tears.

The Queen's voice cut through the silence. “You have been called before the court to deliver your testimony. If you lie, it will have severe consequences,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “We have gathered here today because a man was killed. Without any evidence or witness testimony, it was decided that Kim Hongjoong was the one responsible and would be hanged for it. Now, after careful investigation, I and everyone else here is fairly confident that this is not what happened. The man who died abused his wife L/N Y/N for close to a decade. And everyone supposedly knew. On the night of the alleged crime, it is to be assumed he came home to beat her once again. Kim Hongjoong was just there at the wrong time. Y/N had to kill her husband in self defense to protect the both of them,” the Queen continued. 

The whole room was deadly silent. Only the occasional sobs of your mother could be heard.

“Now I ask of you to truthfully answer my questions”, she said, looking at your parents directly, “is it true that you knew your daughter was getting abused?”

The silence that followed the Queen's question was suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity. Your father kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his hands trembling slightly as he knelt beside your mother. 

You remembered the last time you saw him. The moment where he apologized, where you saw the pain in his eyes. But would he also admit to his faults in public?

The Queen's eyes bore into them. She was not just asking for a simple answer; she was demanding the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And there was no escaping it.

Your father was the first to speak, his voice barely above a whisper, rough and strained. “We… we knew,” he confessed, the words stumbling out of him like a boulder finally giving way to gravity. “We knew what was happening, Your Majesty.”

A collective gasp rippled through the courtroom, but you remained still, your heart pounding in your chest as the truth you had been denied for so long was finally laid bare. Your mother’s sobs grew louder, her hands covering her face as if to shield herself from the reality of what was happening.

The Queen’s gaze did not waver. “And yet, you did nothing to help her?” she pressed, her tone hardening. “You allowed your daughter to suffer for years, without lifting a finger to protect her? Knowing that one day she could possibly be killed?”

Your mother finally lifted her head, her face streaked with tears. “We… we were afraid,” she stammered, her voice shaking with emotion. “We didn’t know what to do… We thought… we thought it would be worse if we intervened.”

A bitter taste filled your mouth as you listened to their excuses. They had left you to fend for yourself in a nightmare, and had turned their backs on you when you needed them the most. 

Even after you tried for months, years to come to terms with their betrayal, it still hurt deeply.

The Queen narrowed her eyes, but her expression gave nothing away. “You thought it would be worse?” she repeated, “Worse than watching your daughter endure unimaginable suffering? Worse than allowing her to be beaten, night after night, while you did nothing?”

Your mother’s tears flowed uncontrollably now, her sobs wracking her body as she nodded, unable to form any coherent response. Your father remained silent, his head hanging low, as if the weight of his guilt was too much to bear.

The Queen’s gaze flicked to you for a moment, her expression softening just slightly as she took in the sight of you standing there, silent and strong beside Hongjoong. 

This wasn't the first time you saw that expression on her face, and for a second you were left wondering if, maybe, she understood your pain. Really understood.

From woman to woman, from victim to victim.

“Your Majesty,” your father spoke again, his voice hoarse with emotion. “We… we failed her. We know that now. We were wrong, and we are deeply sorry.”

For a second, his eyes found yours. And though you knew you could never forgive them, you saw nothing but love and guilt in your father's eyes.

Maybe in another life, where you as a woman would have more rights, you all could have been a happy, normal family.

Maybe.

“But… There is one last thing I want to do for my daughter,” he whispered. “Your Majesty, if I may…?”

Her gaze flicked towards you. You clutched Hongjoong’s hands tighter, before giving her a final nod.

“Go on,” she said.

Your father hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage, before speaking again. “I brought them here, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “The rest of the people who stayed quiet. I brought all of them here today.”

The Queen raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between your father and you. The courtroom seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her decision. Your eyes widened and you immediately felt a lump form in your throat. 

Finally, the Queen nodded, “Bring them in.”

She turned towards the grand double doors at the back of the room, and with a slight motion of her hand, the guards opened them. One by one, a dozen people began to file in, their faces pale and solemn. You recognized each one of them - neighbors, former friends, even the local shopkeepers who had all turned a blind eye to your bruises and hushed cries for help. They looked as though they were walking to their own execution, eyes downcast, hands desperately clutching their clothes.

As they entered, they arranged themselves in a line before you, and then, as if guided by an unspoken command, they all began to bow. The sight of it - the people who had once ignored your pain now bowing before you, in front of the Queen herself - struck you like a blow to the heart.

You tightened your grip on Hongjoong’s hand, your breath hitching as the overwhelming weight of the moment began to settle over you. Tears welled up in your eyes, and no matter how much you tried to hold them back, they eventually began to spill over, silently tracing lines down your cheeks. Hongjoong’s hand remained warm and steady in yours, his presence grounding you as you struggled to process the scene before you.

Slowly, an elderly woman who had been your neighbor for years, stepped forward. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “Y/N… we have no excuse for what we did, or rather, what we didn’t do. We failed you, just as your parents did. We saw the signs, but we chose to look away, to pretend it wasn’t our business. And for that… we are truly sorry.”

As everyone in line took their turn to speak, offering their apologies, their regrets, and their shame, the emotions you had been holding back for so long finally broke free. You wept openly now, the sound of your sobs filling the otherwise silent courtroom. These were the apologies you had never expected to hear, the recognition of your suffering that had been denied to you for so many years.

Hongjoong wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, and you leaned into him, burying your face in his neck. The tears kept coming, and you let them. 

After each person spoke to you, they all remained bowed, waiting for your response. The Queen, too, seemed to be waiting, her gaze fixed on you.

You took a shaky breath, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you tried to find the right words. But there were no words that could truly capture the enormity of what you were feeling. So instead, you simply nodded, acknowledging their apologies once and for all.

“Thank you,” you managed to whisper, your voice raw and hoarse. “Thank you for saying what I needed to hear… even if it’s too late.”

There was a collective sigh of relief from the crowd, but the weight of the moment still pressed down heavily on you. The Queen stepped forward, her presence immediately commanding everyone's attention. “You have all acknowledged your failings here today,” she said, “A man has died, and even if Y/N pulled the trigger, everyone here knows that at the end of the day, she remains an innocent woman. A woman who had to save herself because no one else did.”

As her final words settled over the courtroom, you felt a deep, heavy relief wash over you. The people who had failed you had spoken their apologies, and though it could never erase the pain you endured, the recognition of your suffering soothed your wounded soul.

Hongjoong kept a protective arm around you as you walked outside. The air outside the courtroom was crisp, the world feeling both too small and too vast after what had just happened. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, when you heard a familiar voice calling your name.

“Y/N!”

You turned just in time to see your sister Miyeon rushing towards you, tears already streaming down her face. Her belly was still slightly rounded from her recent pregnancy, and in her arms, she cradled her newborn, your tiny niece or nephew, who was bundled up warmly against her chest.

Miyeon threw her arms around you, careful not to hurt her child, pulling you into a tight embrace as she sobbed uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry,” she choked out between sobs, her voice filled with guilt and anguish. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know everything that was happening. If I had known, I would have been there for you. I should have been there for you!”

You held her tightly, your own tears spilling over once more as you buried your face in her shoulder. “Miyeon, it’s okay,” you whispered, even as your voice trembled. “I know you would’ve helped me if you could. You were far away, and you had no idea. You were also preparing to be a mother… I never wanted to burden you with my pain.”

“But you’re my sister,” she cried, pulling back to look at you with red, puffy eyes. “I should have been here. I should have done something, anything, to protect you. How could I have let this happen to you?”

You shook your head. “You couldn’t have known, Miyeon. None of this was your fault. I don’t blame you, not even for a second.”

Before you could respond, her husband, Gikwang, who had been standing a few steps behind her, joined the two of you. His expression was filled with compassion and guilt as he handed you a small, trembling bundle. “We… we brought something for you,” he said gently. “One of Hongjoong’s neighbors found him in his house and thought you’d want him back.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he placed the tiny, trembling creature in your arms.

“Benji!” you cried out.

The moment he was in your arms, the dam you had been holding back broke entirely. You clutched him to you, your sobs echoing through the quiet corridor as you cried even harder than you just moments before.

Hongjoong stood beside you, his hand on your back, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears as he watched you cradle Benji. Miyeon wrapped her arms around both you and Benji, and for a long, long while, you simply stood there, the three of you wrapped in a comforting embrace. As you finally pulled back, wiping your tears away, you looked at Miyeon and Hongjoong, then down at Benji, who was now purring softly in your arms, and also at Gikwang and their newborn child.

With a trembling but genuine smile, you whispered, "Thank you, Miyeon. Thank you for being here. And thank you for bringing him back to me."

Miyeon nodded, her own smile breaking through her tears. "I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. No matter what. You and I will keep in contact, right? You'll come visit me and I'll visit you, right? And… and you and Hongjoong will be happy together, right?”

As you wiped the last of your tears away, you gave Miyeon a firm nod. “Yes,” you replied, your voice steady for the first time in what felt like an eternity. “We will keep in contact. I’ll visit you, and you can come visit us. And yes… Hongjoong and I will be happy together. We’ll find a way to move forward.”

Miyeon smiled through her tears, her grip on her newborn tightening slightly as she nodded back. “Good,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. “That’s all I want for you, Y/N. To be happy. You deserve that more than anything.”

Gikwang placed a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder. “You’re strong, Y/N,” he said softly. “And even if your parents and Jisoo aren't included, you have us that care about you, no matter how far apart we may be.”

You took a long, deep breath before looking down at Benji, who was still purring contentedly in your arms, then up at Hongjoong, who met your gaze with a look of unwavering support and love.

“Let’s go,” Hongjoong murmured, his hand gently squeezing yours. “It’s time to head home.”

You nodded. Turning back to your sister, you reached out and gave her one last, lingering hug. “I’ll see you soon,” you promised, “until then, take care. And also of your bab-”

“Jihoon. His name is Jihoon,” she whispered, carefully cradling the baby in her arms.

You smiled warmly at her and her child. “Take care of Jihoon too, okay?”

With that, you and Hongjoong turned and began to walk away, Benji still cradled safely in your arms. 

“Hey, Joongie?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“Do you think Django is doing well?

He laughed. “Oh, I know he is. That damn goat is probably terrorizing the whole town by now.”

My Dearest Husband,

I hope this letter finds you well and you are not too weary from your travels. Though I'm proud the Queen has once again asked for one of your dresses, the house feels a little quieter without you here, though Miyeon, Gikwang, and little Jihoon are doing their best to fill the void. You wouldn’t believe how much he’s grown since you last saw him – he’s already running around like he owns the place. God, I’ve had to take more breaks than usual chasing after him. I’m sure you can guess why.

Miyeon has been a great help, though, and Gikwang even managed to fix the squeaky gate that’s been bothering you for months. We spent yesterday walking along the shore, Jihoon squealing with delight every time the waves came in. It made me think of how much you would’ve enjoyed the sight with him together. The sea is as beautiful as ever, though not nearly as beautiful as it is when I get to share it with you.

Oh, our little shop is thriving more than I could’ve imagined. Your teachings on sewing have paid off wonderfully, and the people can’t seem to get enough of the dresses I make. I'm so honored, though I still try and convince them yours are so much better. They keep saying how elegant the stitching is and how there’s something special about each piece. I always smile and tell them it’s because they were made with love – a love you taught me with every thread and needle. Though I do admit, I’ve had to slow down a bit these days. The shop misses you, too, but it’s running smoothly, and I can’t wait for you to see how well it's been going. 

I know you were worried about leaving me alone, but honestly, my love, you overthink too much. I think you forget sometimes just how capable I am. I may be waddling more than walking at this point, but I can still manage just fine, especially with Miyeon here to keep an eye on me. But I can’t help but smile when I think about how you’re already fretting over our little one, even before she’s born. You and your little princess – I can just see it now, the way you’ll spoil her rotten with all those tiny dresses you’ve been making. If she’s anything like her father, she’ll be quite the charmer, and I can’t wait to see you two together, hand in hand, as you show her the world.

She’s been kicking more these past few days, and it hurts like crazy. I can't wait to finally meet her. I’m already dreaming of the day when we’ll finally get to meet her. I know you’re just as eager as I am – I can see it in the way you smile whenever you talk about her. Our little princess. I think she knows, too, because she always seems to calm down when I think about you.

So, my love, don’t worry too much about us. We’re safe, happy, and counting down the days until you’re back home. The sea is waiting, the shop is thriving, and most importantly, your little family is here, eagerly anticipating your return. I’ll keep everything running smoothly until you’re back – though I must admit, I’m looking forward to resting when our little one decides it’s time to make her grand entrance.

Take care of yourself, and don’t let business keep you away for too long. We miss you dearly.

With all my love,

Your Wife

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘

summary: what do they do and how do they cope after you suddenly go where they can’t follow?

pairings: scaramouche/ wanderer :: venti :: kaveh :: zhongli x gn! reader

warnings: angst, reader dies/ has died, arson [scara], alcohol consumption [venti, kaveh]

genshin impact masterlist || a million miles away- belle

the loneliest [pt. 2 - xiao, kazuha, aether, childe]

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄

“Come back to me, and stay by my side I feel my heart shake; come, ease this ache..."

Dull amethyst eyes watched in apathy as the golden flames swallowed the edge of the picture, slowly singeing away your smile, then the arm you had thrown around his shoulders and lastly his hand holding you close by the waist, until only small flakes of grey ashes remained and fluttered to your lover’s feet. 

The silence around him was too loud, pressing on his ears and threatening to crush his skull. Letting his gaze sweep through the space you’d once lived in together made his chest constrict like vines wrapping tighter around his ribcage the more details he took in. Every chair, every tea cup, every stray piece of paper brought back memories of you, together with the bitterness of knowing he’d never get to hold you in his arms again.

It was then that he realised, getting rid of all your possessions, every picture you’d taken and every gift you’d given him wouldn’t be enough. Your presence had long since invaded every corner, nook and cranny of this house, the space irreversibly intertwined with you. And now that your physical form had faded, your soul had come back to haunt his every waking moment and to even follow him into the depths of his dreams. 

Perhaps this was his divine punishment, the atonement for all the sins he had committed clinging to his newly taken form. Or perhaps it wasn’t you at all, only his mind mocking him for not living any and every moment with you to the fullest, not giving you all of him when he had the chance to.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d have to cut all ties with this place in order to rid himself of the shackles he found himself bound by. Even if it meant reducing the centre of your shared happiness to cinders.

As he laid the fire, meticulously making sure no room of the house was spared, he wondered. How would a real human feel in a moment like this? Would they also feel nothing? Or was it just him, an artificial puppet, who’d only feel numbness at the death of his loved one? Were any of his feelings real in the first place? You’d have deserved someone who actually loved you and cherished your memories, not someone who destroyed the very place you’d called a home.

The flames singed the ends of his clothes the same colour as your photo as he stepped out into the evening breeze, which now carried smoke and the smell of burning wood with it. Even as he watched the roof cave in and the support of the house break away, he felt no sadness, yet the vines seemed to creep only deeper between his ribs, snaring around the place where a heart should beat.

Your lover looked around the area where your home once stood. And it felt like all air had been knocked out of his lungs.

There, between two trees, grew the flower you had loved so much. And was that your favourite dish he could smell? A flock of birds flew overhead, probably to escape the fire, reminding him of the ones you’d fed over winter, the ones he reprimanded you not to spoil.

To his horror, the more frantically he searched for something which wouldn’t bring back thoughts of you, the more images flooded his brain. The force of his realisation brought him to his knees as he stared at the damage he’d done with his mind clear for the first time in days. There was a pressure building behind his eyes and his throat tightened uncomfortably, constricting airways he didn’t need. Was this what happened when humans cried?

“I’m sorry.” It was barely there and completely broken at the same time. The weakness he’d so despised in others overwhelmed him as embers swirled high in the sky. 

He was a fool, a complete and utter fool, to think he could ever get rid of you, of his feelings for you. It had never been the house you were bound to. From the very start, your soul had been intricately intertwined with his, and it would continue to be, until he too faded from this world in the distant future. Hopefully, then, you would be reunited and you could forgive him.

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

"...I'm standing over here, reaching for you  A million miles away, come back and stay..."

Venti had no idea how much time had passed since that day. Not that he as an archon was very good at keeping track of time spans as short as days or weeks in the first place. It wasn’t like he avoided thinking about you, no. He did. A lot, actually.

Before his mind’s eye, the shine of your smile and the sparkle in your eyes as your joyful laughter rang through the air was as clear as day. The days spent lazing around in the grass with cider and apple tarts while Venti hummed a lazy tune filled him with more warmth than the sun. Yet, his smile at the memories didn’t quite reach his eyes, just how his brain never reached the point where he’d seen you last. And he never strained himself to remember it either.

All his actions felt heavy, like an invisible weight was holding him down. Venti was sure if he were to use a wind glider, he’d fall out of the sky like a stone. Thinking was akin to walking through mud, every step hardly leaving the ground and every fibre of his body screaming at him to stop and just lie down.

After your funeral was held, most of Mondstadt’s citizens reckonned they’d find the usually playful bard at the tavern even more often from now on. At first, that was true. Venti sat down at his usual table and ordered what he’d always ordered but the other patrons quickly caught on that he wasn’t doing okay at all. Normally the centre of attention and excitedly talking to anyone who’d listen, it was shocking to see the bard stare down on the contents of his glass in silence. 

So it came as quite the shock when after a few days, Venti didn’t show up to the Angel’s Share anymore. In fact, he was hardly spotted around the city at all. It was mostly the guards from the morning and night shift who saw him come and go. When he left, there were only two locations where one could find him. Either on the windy peak of Starsnatch Cliff or in the arms of the tree at Windrise. Both would do, as long as he was away from the pitiful glances people would throw him.

On that particular day, Venti was mindlessly strumming his lyre to the sound of the rustling leaves as he overlooked the planes of Mondstadt, not actually taking in any of the sights. His mind was here and there, not lingering on any one thought very long. Before coming here, he’d overheard people in town wonder about the wind which had recently picked up, how it tasted a lot saltier, as if coming from the sea, how unusually cold it was for this time of year and how it bit at the skin more. He supposed that was true.

In the beginning he’d brought a basket of apples when he came out here but they all tasted as if he’d taken a bite out of a handful of flour, so he stopped. All the cider tasted bitter and wine only added to the constant pressure building behind his temple. So Venti eventually gave up on trying to find something he could stomach. It wasn’t important to an archon anyway.

The melody his hands subconsciously called into existence snapped him back into the present. It was a song he had started writing with you as his muse, a song he’d not yet shown you, wanting to wait until it was finished, no matter how much you begged for him to show you already. 

Even to his own ears, his voice sounded foreign. As the patron god of Mondstadt’s bards, he’d always prided himself on his smooth and serene voice. But now it was nothing but a hoarse whisper, cracking as he tried to voice the words he’d engrained in his mind. His vocal cords felt raw and burnt after hardly talking to anyone longer than he had to. In the corner of his eyes, the statue depicting his image seemed to mock him; a bard who couldn’t sing, a god who couldn’t even protect a single person.

When he reached the part of the song where he left off faster than he’d like, his hands were trembling and he slumped against the tree bark in exhaustion. Yet, with your memory in mind, he willed himself to continue, to capture your spirit in his art at least, if he couldn’t hold onto you any other way. 

Despite his best effort, what started out as a lovestruck ballad quickly turned into a lament, no matter how he filled the lines with affection and joy. He tried and tried, with more vigour than he’d shown in the last weeks altogether, to right the verses, to do your image justice, but it was all in vain. Every version was more sorrowful than the last. When the moon peeked through the twigs, he resigned himself to his fate and cast his gaze to the far heavens above.

“My darling dove, can you hear me?” He whispered into the still night air. Only the distant call of an owl answered him. “I hope this song reaches you all the way up there. I really wanted to play it for you.”

Leaning his head back, Venti was suddenly overcome with a tiredness he hadn’t experienced for a very, very long time. Now was as good a time for a slumber as any, he supposed. Perhaps by the time he opened his eyes again, things would be different and his chest would feel light as air once again.

𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

"...No matter how far the memories may be When I close my eyes, you're all that I see..."

It was his fault.

The reason he’d never get to throw himself into your arms ever again was him, and him alone.

If he hadn’t answered your question whether he’d like you to get the materials he needed for his newest project from the Akademiya with a 'That’d be a big a help, my rose' he could still call you that nickname now and in the future. If he’d just gone and gotten them himself, you’d never been caught up in that horrible accident, an experiment gone astray, as the mahamatra had explained to him. If he hadn’t been so selfish, you’d still be alive.

Deep down, a reasonable part of him knew he wasn’t to blame. His friends had emphasised that as well, nobody could have expected something so gruesome to happen. Still, Kaveh couldn’t accept it. It didn’t feel right to excuse himself like that. You died because you wanted to help him, he deserved to carry this blame, this pain, this guilt. 

Despite Tighnari and Cyno showing up to console him, Kaveh turned them away without much hesitation. Grabbing a glass and a bottle of wine, the architect disappeared into his room, sparing his roommate not so much as a glance. This behaviour didn’t change much over the next few days, except for the fact that wine was swapped with coffee, thanks to Al-Haitham.

Speaking of the Grand Scribe, he’d normally be happy to have some peace and quiet, yet, seeing the normally talkative blond isolate himself for days on end made him genuinely worry for his old friend. Neither of them acknowledged the way plates of food would appear in Kaveh's room or how he would wake up with a blanket draped over him which hadn’t been there when he fell asleep. 

There was a single instance in which Kaveh spoke and it was only a single word. When Al-Haitham had been cleaning up around the house, he’d picked up a vase holding sumeru roses that had wilted beyond recognition. Just as he was about to discard the flowers, there was a low, muttered ‘Don’t’ that made him stop in his tracks. It wasn’t so much the word in itself as it was the way Kaveh said it. The roughness in his voice was so foreign from its usual melodic lilt, no emotion swinging in it at all.

Al-Haitham faintly remembered how you had brought the roses over one day when you two had gone on a date and wordlessly put them back on the table. 

In general, not many of Kaveh’s -and by extension your- possessions moved at all, collecting dust as they lay just like on the day of your passing. The only thing that changed was the growing pile of scrolls and papers littering the architect’s room. In order to get his mind off everything, Kaveh had buried himself in work. Yet, none of his sketches turned out to his liking and he grew more frustrated and irritable the more crumpled or ripped papers covered the floor. Never before had he broken this many pencils as a consequence of jabbing the coal onto his designs and pressing down harder than necessary.

Until he found himself staring down on a completely blank sheet with no idea whatsoever. All utensils were strewn about the space, discarded and never picked up as dreary and washed-out crimson eyes drooped without the mercy of sleep overcoming him. Every time he tried to rest, your face and voice would startle him awake again and he’d choke on the breath he tried to take.

With his hair unkempt, clothes rumpled and dark circles under his eyes, the “Light of Kshahrewar” was merely a shadow of his former self as he hunched over his messy desk. The first sobs tearing through him broke the dam on all the feelings he’d bottled up inside, burning his throat like acid as they tore free. The previously untouched scroll served as a canvas for all his regrets spilling over in the form of falling tears, drawing a portrait of his tumultuous state of mind.

Still, the sinking weight in his chest prevailed, the guilt a constant reminder of the loneliness he couldn’t shake.

𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈

"...Come back to me A million miles away, come back and stay”

Zhongli had been setting the table for when you came home from work, two tea cups already waiting to be used as a kettle of water boiled on the stove. Soon the pleasant aroma of tea leaves and the cheery sound of your voice would fill your shared home, Zhongli plating two bowls of bamboo shoot soup as he waited for you to come home.

Right on time, there was a knock on the door and he quickly made his way over, elated to finally be in your presence again. A genuine smile graced his lips as he opened the door, a smile that fell abruptly when he came face to face with two millelith, their faces decidedly neutral. Still, the air felt ominously sombre. 

“Mr. Zhongli?” One of them confirmed before bowing his head as continued. “We are sorry to inform you that there has been an armed robbery. The person who is registered to live here with you has unfortunately not survived the violent encounter. Our deepest condolences.”

After handing him the bag you always carried with you, the soldiers departed, leaving the consultant alone with his thoughts. As in trance, he sat down and carefully opened the bag, almost as if a sudden movement could make it crumble in between his fingers.

Considering his incredibly long lifespan, this was hardly the first time Zhongli had lost someone he cared for deeply. That, however, didn’t mean it was any easier. Parting ways with loved ones was something any sentient being couldn’t get used to, especially if it happened so suddenly.

While his mind had already processed the information, it seemed his heart had a hard time keeping up with what was happening, his mind in a strange limbo between reality and thought as he unpacked your belongings. While turning each one over between his gloved fingers, Zhongli tried sorting out his emotions. Even the sweetness of shared moments replaying in his mind couldn’t sugarcoat the bitter sting of grief taking root in his very being.

The shrill screeching from the tea kettle drew his attention away from the items on the table occupying the space where you’d usually link your hands as you traded stories of what happened in your respective days.

For a few seconds that felt like aeons, Zhongli held the tea kettle in his hand before ultimately deciding to brew tea after all. Perhaps it would help him retain a sense of normality. Before he realised, he’d already filled your cup, an action he was so used to it apparently became routine at one point. With a sigh, he did the same on his site before taking a seat again and watching the ripples of water move across his cup.

When he awoke the next day, Zhongli couldn’t tell how long he had sat like that or when he’d gone to sleep, his motions automatic as if pulled by strings. Making breakfast, getting dressed, staring out of the window into the busy harbour… He was aware he was doing all of these things, yet he didn’t feel fully present, merely looking onto the scene.

Being with you had shown him so much of what mortal life had to offer, your perspective refreshingly different from his own, he couldn’t help but smile melancholically at the memory. In light of your brilliance, perhaps the old god had no chance but to fall in love. Enveloped in your affection, Zhongli had finally felt like he found his place among the people of Liyue but once more this connection had been severed. 

In the late afternoon, a knock sounded through the humble abode yet again. This time, however, it was not the millelith.

“Director Hu, what an honour,” Zhongli politely bowed. “Is there a matter in which you need my expertise?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” the young woman said, her crimson eyes seemingly looking straight into him. “I heard what happened, so I came to see how you’re doing.”

“Your concern flatters me, Director. Please do come in.” Stepping aside, he opened the door wider to allow Hu Tao entry.

Gliding right into his living room, she took a seat at his table, gaze sweeping through the room. It was then Zhongli noticed how there were still two cups sitting there, one empty and one untouched. 

“Ah, please pardon me. I was not expecting guests on this day.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I don’t mind,” she gave him an understanding smile. Naturally, in their line of work, both of them had seen many people suffering through the loss of a loved one and it was an understatement to say grief showed many different faces. “I won’t be taking much of your time anyway. 

“First of all, I’d like to offer my sincerest condolences. An incredible person like them will be deeply missed.” Despite the simplicity, her words were fully genuine. “Take as much time off work as you need, your healing is the most important thing right now. And while I hate to bring business into a personal situation like this, you should think about what kind of ceremony you’ll want to hold. When you have an answer, just tell me and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Thank you, that is very generous of you, Director.”

When the house was empty once again, Zhongli gently picked up both cups and poured out the cold tea inside. With the sinking sun dipping Liyue in liquid gold, its former archon commenced his evening ritual. Turning the cup that was supposed to be yours between his fingers, he chose two new ones and set them up with his usual care for details.

As the tea brewed, Zhongli went to retrieve a journal you had gifted him once but which he hadn’t found any use for yet. Taking his place at the now empty table, he dipped a quill in ink as he contemplated what to write.

In the end, he settled for describing his day, just how he would when you’d sit across from him, listening to his stories attentively. He could vividly picture your expression of awe before him, bringing a fond smile to his face. As more time passed, dried flowers or notes you had left him eventually found their way between the pages as well.

Naturally, your loss cut deeper than Zhongli ever could hope to understand. At times it made him feel empty, like the sun would never smile upon him again. And while mourning was an important part of coming to terms with devastating loss, he had learnt over time that wallowing in sorrow and getting swallowed by pain would not honour the life you had lived.

Instead, his priority lay on treasuring every moment where your paths intersected, to preserve a part of you which would remain untouched by corrosion, so you could continue to shine forever like gold in his memory.

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[violetasteracademic]

Why do you think elain is a better fit for azriel than gwyn?

Hi anon!

I've said this before, and don't mind saying it again and again million times; I ship story and theme, not characters. I'm not particularly quiet or shy about the fact that I absolutely love Gwyn and Lucien, and I've been met kindly and with respect from my mutuals who absolutely despise those characters or at best find them boring and don't care about them. So- I hope this doesn't come off as sarcastic, because I truly don't mean for it to be, but I don't think I even have the words to express how little I sit here comparing Gwyn and Elain as women and why one of them might be more "right" for Azriel than the other. I don't consider Gwyn as she pertains to Azriel, because I don't believe that she does pertain to Azriel. The story and themes I imagine for her are beyond Prythian, and it literally thrills me to think about what might be in store for her.

I am a huge Twilight of the Gods believer, and I think Gwyn and the Valkyrie are going to play a huge role in it. I actually ship Gwyn with Fenrys, in a borderline this is not a crack ship I really seriously believe it kind of way, and Fenrys is my second fave ToG man to Dorian. Whenever my bestie wants to make me cry randomly (in a good way), she'll send me blinks throughout the day. Iykyk.

And I love shipping Gwynrys (just made that up, open to work shopping for better ship names 😂) because they thematically and story wise make sense to me and excite and deeply move me.

They both are twins who had to witness the other half of their soul be murdered in front of them, then were horrifically SA'd afterwards. They both responded to that trauma with absolute silence- Fenrys remaining in his wolf form because he could not bring himself to speak, and Gwyn remaining silent for five months after returning to the library. If they ever met and discovered they share the same tragic past and they both overcame it to be strong, loyal, and beloved friends- omg. I just got chills typing this. They could stand to connect on that deep level that Feysand shares, that Rowaelin shares, that I obviously think Elriel shares. They could see that depth and pain within in each other in a way no one else could understand, then would be the first to volunteer to stand at the front lines in a war against the gods.

I process SJM's couples as being deeply and thematically connected, and I see that with Gwyn and Fenrys and truly believe side characters who haven't gotten their HEA's will do so in the new series. They had complete arcs that became very cherished by the fandom, and though their emotional and character growth in service of the main characters were complete, their story simply didn't feel quite finished.

Anywho. Now I'm turning this into a Let Me Tell You Why I Ship Gwyn and Fenrys seminar 😂 but honestly, I couldn't say that I don't think Gwyn and Az aren't right or good for each other. They could be if these were real people and we were trying to matchmake character traits. I just don't know what they would be together in the story as it stands now.

Whatever their story would be- it would have to be dripping with more sexual tension and angst and longing than Azriel and Elain have. It would have to be more powerful and more interesting than the Cauldron being wrong, going up against fate, and discovering that the Cauldron has in fact been corrupted. Their partnership would have to do more for the women of the world (as both Nesta and Feyre did in their stories with restoring female High Ladies in Prythian and warriors in Illyria) than what Az and Elain stand to do- get to the bottom of the corruption done by the Asteri, which is likely why unhappy and poorly matched mating bonds exist in Prythian, and fix it. Thus freeing not only themselves, but every woman who stood to be a pawn or an object and forced into a lifetime of misery with a man she didn't love lest she risk violence or spend the rest of her life wondering why she didn't love her mate and if she made a mistake.

I don't personally vibe with or agree with the (admittedly few, I stay out of the G/wynriel space not because I hate the idea of the ship but to protect myself from the conversation surrounding women's birthing abilities making them viable love interests) ideas I've heard about Gwyn and Az. That she will save Illyria- absolutely not. That belongs to Emerie. That she will be a sidekick in a new Nesta POV book. That sounds terrible to me. SJM has spoken on how freaky and hot Azriel's spice is going to be, and I'm supposed to just not want the woman's half of the POV because she's a side character in Nesta and Azriel's story? No thank you. No one has presented a story that I would want to read more than Azriel and Elain's, or a story that I believe makes any sense and is worth erasing all the work put into Az and Elain as far as this year 2024 in HoFaS with confirming the problems with the Cauldron.

Look, I'm still pretty new. I joined this online fandom, my first time ever doing so, this spring after HoFaS left me spiralling with thoughts and ideas of the future of SJM's books. Then I started writing fanfic. Then I started analyzing the text to comfort people who had the same experience as me- being someone who couldn't wait for Az and Elain's book and came online to a shocking, Elain hating bloodbath.

I do think that this shipwar is a very strange phenomenon born of an extreme dislike for Elain, whether people want to admit it or not. Elain and Azriel have all the same elements Feysand and Nessian had to set up their romance, but suddenly narratives that have never happened in the history of SJM have been created to explain it away. The "just lust" narrative literally does not exist in the SJM codex. It's not a thing. But it's a thing now for people who don't like Azriel and Elain together to try to erase Elain's existence and convince the world how it is completely impossible for her book to be next or for her to be with Azriel simply because they don't want those things to be true.

I do not care about whether or not ships are even canon. I could go on and on about all my favorite non canon ships, and times I thought the canon story was dead ass wrong 😂 It just so happens that when it comes to Az and Elain, I ride SO HARD for the canon text. People who ship G/wynriel will likely continue to ship them, and that is what fandom is for. I don't mind that they exist. I do wish everyone, on all sides, was kinder.

To me, the only love triangle exists between Azriel, Elain, and Lucien, which is why most of my theory or analysis posts center around them. I think Gwyn was an incredibly successful (maybe too successful) red herring. My opinion is that the bonus chapter was meant to re-touch on and shine light to her powers, and also create little question mark so it wasn't too obvious Elain and Azriel are endgame when she still hasn't formally rejected her mate since she hasn't had her book yet. Instead, it lit a wildfire for a group of people who were already primed and ready to erase Elain and replace her.

Maybe Gwyn and Azriel as characters removed from this story and put in a different one would be great together. In fact, I'm certain they would. They are great characters and I'm sure they could be written beautifully. I prefer what Az and Elain have got going on, but that's personal preference. I think Gwyn already had a complete arc, and I loved it, and now I'm crawling out of my skin with excitement for Elain's story.

I hope that sort of answers your question. I'm just not really interested in pitting Gwyn and Elain against each other for Azriel's attention, and I don't believe the books actually created or intended that.

Pleaaaase let me know if there are any fellow multiverse shippers out there 🙏 cause we are thinking too small focusing only on ACOTAR!

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

I saw a couple of posts here and on ao3 where you talked about how TOA Apollo has a stilted view of romantic relationships. Would you be comfortable explaining that, it got me really interested!

OKAY

SO

gonna be putting this under a cut for length

Apollo and relationships. Specifically, ToA Apollo and relationships.

let's see if I can formulate the thoughts into words.

Right off the bat, Apollo does have a hard time avoiding those red flags (hello, Commodus), so much so that he can see them...he just ignores them.

This already tells us that he doesn't have the healthiest view on relationships, or what specifically a healthy partner would be like.

In RRverse canon, these are all of his confirmed, canon relationships/love interests;

Hyacinthus

Commodus

Naomi

Darren

Latricia

Cyrene

Daphne

Sibyl

(I probably missed some asdfhjk)

Anyway, I've noticed that in canon, Apollo's relationships tend to fall into two categories; Sweet or Sour, we'll call them.

Now the majority on the list are Sweet! They are fulfilling relationships with no indication of any bitter feelings- Apollo is not shy about telling us about his love life, and certainly doesn't keep it from us when a relationship went south.

What I find interesting is that all three of the Sours can help pinpoint Apollo's more jaded/stilted view on romance.

Let's kick off with Daphne.

First things first, Apollo is quite literally forced to fall in love with her. Like. That has GOT to screw with a guy. What's more, is that when Apollo explains to us how Eros's arrows work;

What people do not understand: Eros’s arrows can’t summon emotion from nothing. They can only cultivate potential that is already there. Daphne and I could have been a perfect pair. She was my true love. She could have loved me back. Yet thanks to Eros, my love-o-meter was cranked to one hundred percent, while Daphne’s feelings turned to pure hate (which is, of course, only the flip side of love). Nothing is more tragic than loving someone to the depths of your soul and knowing they cannot and will not ever love you back. The stories say I chased her on a whim, that she was just another pretty dress. The stories are wrong. - The Hidden Oracle

There's an implication that he and Daphne may have actually been...friends. Or at the very least acquaintances.

It's never stated in canon when Daphne happened, and the mythology itself is weird about the timeline, but it certainly happened earlier in Apollo's life.

Imagine being forced to fall madly in love with someone you know and they are made to despise you.

The self-confidence definitely took a blow here.

What's more...

When she begged Gaea to turn her into a laurel tree in order to escape me, part of my heart hardened into bark as well.

Apollo tells us plainly that what happened with Daphne shook his views on romantic endeavors. Though, it didn't keep him from engaging in romance, either.

Now, back to Commodus real quick. We already covered the No Red Flag Bell with him, and honestly, I won't spend too much time here because I got a whole meta list waiting to dissect these two XD

But Sibyl reveals something else about Apollo and romance- sometimes, he sees it as transactional.

The story of Apollo and Sibyl does differ from the mythology of them- in mythology, Sibyl tricks Apollo into granting her a long life, and he kinda just shrugs and says 'okay, but you didn't ask for eternal youth either so...whoops?'

In ToA, Rick switches it up a bit by having Apollo grant Sibyl a long life after she jokes about it, and when she further rebuffs him, he curses her with no eternal youth.

Alas, I knew what I’d been thinking—that she was a pretty young woman I wanted to get with, despite the fact that she was my Sibyl. Then she’d outsmarted me, and being the bad loser that I was, I had cursed her. - The Tyrant's Tomb

I promised you life, not youth. You can have your centuries of existence. You will remain my Sibyl. I cannot take those things away, once given. But you will grow old. You will wither. You will not be able to die.

Yeah, it sounds like Apollo more or less curses her with no eternal youth here.

(Daily disclaimer that mythology Apollo's love life is actually very good and you should read up on it :3)

Back to the transactional thing-

"You cannot refuse payment." “Payment?” She balled her hands into fists. “You dare think of me as a transaction?” “I didn’t mean—Obviously, I wasn’t—”

Now, do I think Apollo sees all relationships as transactional? No. But let's consider the Olympian influence for a moment here.

Olympus in the RRverse is rather fucked, no doubt about it. The gods do not help without first being given something, and that permeates through their whole lifestyles.

Apollo's not being transactional because ✨misogyny✨. He's being transactional because that's what he's been raised to believe. If he gives something, he gets something back. That goes for all the gods, male and female and everything in between.

Bacchus helps the demigods in Mark of Athena because they paid tribute to him. Whenever a god extends aid, burnt offerings are made in thanks- which is probably part of the reason why Hera got angry with Annabeth when she refused to give her burnt offerings in The Battle of the Labyrinth after she helped her on her quest.

Apollo doesn't seem to be as picky as some (ie, The Titan's Curse, where he helps out to help out. You can argue he got his sister back in exchange but that's not really typical godly exchange lol), but it's clear that mindset has somewhat transferred over into relationships.

Now, I also want to talk about how Hyacinthus affected him- because let's be real, he was the one that affected him the most without outside interference (looking at you, Eros).

Apollo has told us time and again that Hyacinthus was one of, if not his greatest, love. His death really left a mark on him, and I am of the firm belief that it's that mark that made him wary of forming too close of a relationship with others- even when he tries to convince them and himself they are his One True Love™️, it falls flat inside his own head.

Because let's face it- that spot is occupied by Hyacinthus, and the hole he left in Apollo's heart.

This isn't to say Apollo loves his other lovers less- heck no! Love is one of his defining qualities. He has much love in him!

It's just that Hyacinthus had a particular impact on him, and how he views relationships.

*vibrates in Hyapollo multific* I have...my own personal ideas...on what that entails...

And we see how touch-and-go Apollo is with other lovers! As soon as Commodus becomes emperor, he's gone. And only comes back in disguise, never revealing himself until he kills him.

Naomi, Darren, and Latricia are all obviously loving relationships from what we can gather, but it's clear it was never long-term.

Cyrene, really, is where I'd argue he got the closest to a long-term relationship with a mortal-ish person, but even so, they aren't in a permanent long-term relationship either.

Hyacinthus, however? I can see he and Apollo maintaining an everlasting romance.

...Also because that is exactly what happens according to the Spartans and who are we to deny what the Spartans declared about their national hero?

The only other exceptions to this I can see are his relationships with the Muses and (hello, fellow Apricity shippers) Boreas.

But even so...the Muses give off like, 'married co-workers' vibes, if that makes sense, and Boreas is more or less a winter fling (fandom forgive me, you know I am a shipper🫡)

Anyway. Hope this rambling makes sense or at least provides a platform for someone to put coherent thoughts together lmao

In conclusion: sometimes Apollo is transactional in relationships because of the culture he was raised in, and he has commit issues because of just how hard Hyacinthus's death hit him :)

have fun pondering :3

[manicrouge]

Chapter One: The Cloaked Woman

[ᴋʏʟᴇ ɢᴀʀʀɪᴄᴋ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ] || [ᴛʜᴇ (ʀᴜꜱᴛʏ) ꜱᴡɪɴɢ ꜱᴇᴛ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 14/02/23

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: You've read your local library out of stock, fortunately for you, you've found an old book which strikes both your interest and your heart.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 6k

[ᴄᴡ]: Detailed discussion of death, suicidal ideation (sort of), small depiction of injuries (nothing major), blood.

[ᴀ/ɴ]: Happy valentines day !! Initially this was going to be a short story but I've fallen in love with this idea and I really wanna make it a series so- here we are !! This is the first part of it and I hope you enjoy it !! I must mention that this is technically an alternate universe but not really (it will make sense in the end)- so that's something. Aside from that, I hope you enjoy it and I can't wait to do the new part !!

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

In the depths of the night, you find comfort in your plush bed, alone. 

Some typically detest loneliness, that explains why their bed never ever gets a chance to air our before they have a new body sleeping next to their’s. You couldn’t do that, although you have debated it, the thought in the end only really has your head spinning and you’re unable to really contemplate such an idea. 

Sometimes, loneliness is good for the soul- good for self growth. 

You affirm to such a basic belief as during your time alone, you’ve found yourself in the strangest of people, and your desire to see yourself in other’s faces has wavered. In that moment, as you’re cosied up in the warmth of your covers, protected from the Winter air, you’re assured in your choices and enjoying your time to yourself ad you’re sitting and reading one of the books you found in the library earlier today. 

You tug at the rugged cover, your brows knitting together as you note that the back of the leather is flaking and it appears oddly dishevelled. It’s old. You acknowledged such when you pulled it off of the shelf and dusted it off. Admittedly, your habit of reading has resulted in your small town’s library being full with words you have already seen and there are only so many times that you can pluck out An Ode to Serelia before you tire of reading the same words; no matter how much you attempt to wish away the reality of the situation, you can never truly escape her fate. And you suppose in the end, you’ll never be able to run from the fate awaiting you either. Sometimes, when you close your eyes that, your heart-rate spikes and you find a sickness twisting your stomach as you contemplate the very foundation of what it means to be human. 

You’re doing it now, in fact. 

Staring numbly at the pages of the book, you find the sickness you have grown grimly accompanied with slowly clawing its way up your throat. There’s little that soothes it, you’ve found your habit has wounded perfectly good days and you despise it with every inch of your being. Your body grows sickly warm and in an effort to subdue the burning of your body, you kick off the sheets, letting out a small gasp for air as your grip on the book in your hands tighten. 

In some sort of effort to reinstate the fact that you’re still alive, you turn on your side to make a point to your body. I’m still here, you inwardly say, hoping all the organs inside hear you out. Perhaps they will, perhaps they won’t. Oddly, it’s their choice for when you go, and even though they’re a part of you, your resentment is in its prime as you understand that you will always be left to grapple with every little thing in your life, you’ll always have to be the one to ask the questions but never get the answers. It’s always been like this and you’re sure it’s never going to change because you don’t have the means to change it either. 

Your head is pounding the longer you spend time pondering, and when you look at the alarm clock stationed on your nightstand, your breathing falters at the very fact that it’s midnight and you’re still yet to even dig into your book. It can wait for tomorrow, you know that, but the longer the flakes of aged leather dig into the tips of your fingers, the more the thudding of your heart in your ears is almost edging you to disregard your desire to sleep. 

In the morning, you can huff and puff about the decision you’re making right now when you have to wake early and get ready for work, yet, for now, you choose to focus on the fact that you’re still alive and you have the free choice to stay up for as long as you wish all to indulge in some tale from the 1900s. And who would you be to turn your eyes away from such a fruitful opportunity? Your organs could fail tomorrow and then what? You would die a woman who will forever spend an eternity cursing herself for not being a little groggy when going into work in the morning, wishing she had just stayed awake and devoured the pages of the story the night before. 

Fortunately for your interest, that’s not who you are. 

Unfortunately for your sleep schedule, that’s exactly who you are. 

So, you succumb to your desire and delve into the pages of the ancient story, ignoring the weariness of your mind and haziness in your ears. It’s a subtle buzz that fills your mind as you cover the first few pages. You familiarise yourself with the characters in the story, and the longer you read through, you find your lips pursing. 

In the matter of five minutes, you’re already turning back to the front of the novel with the desire of understanding the perspective. Admittedly, in comparison, the words you have read in different books in the library, the printed text appears to be a little less than the standard. The perspective is littered with colloquialisms and the wording in some paragraphs is a tad stiff. You’ve never been one to judge, however, and you find a smile ghosting your lips as your brush over the first words on the first page- the words that begin the entirety of the story. 

The rusty swing set in the city always caused loads of arguments. 

There’s a charm to the words, and as you pinch the pages and turn it to the very beginning, your eyes can down a page marked as ‘INFORMATION’in the hopes of finding some form of explanation of what exactly this story is about- is it non-fiction, fiction? You suppose your blindness is being punished right now; you’ve read so much that you’ve resorted to solving a puzzle in order for a story to make sense. Of course, you can just turn and keep reading, but your curiosity is getting the better of you as you scour through the weathered information page in some form of hope that you can uncover something about this story. Yet, the longer you keep going over the same words, you find nothing detailing the terms of how the book was created, rather, just something boring describing the location of the publisher and the date. A small huff passes your lips as you turn the pages in defeat and continue to read on. 

As a kid I never really knew what I wanted to be. It was something my mum used to always press me on I could never ever be without some stupid dream. I had to do something with my life because that’s what God put me here for. And a lot of the time when I was a kid I didn’t really have a purpose. I guess that’s just being a kid though. So when I first found that swing set, I thought I’d found my purpose. I had so much fun playing on it and me and the other kids used to play together on them as well. And I spent so much time in that little park that my mum used to get mad at me and I always used to argue with her and tell her that I’m old enough to make my own decisions. I didn’t listen to her cause I was better than that- I was a big boy. And I had that idea in my head since I was a little kid, so, when I got older, I guess I was just a handful to deal with. At least, that’s what my mum used to say about me. Recently, I’ve been thinking about it a lot too and I’ve really started to regret acting the way I did when I was a kid. 

Following along with the story, you find an ache in your chest appearing as your eyes grow heavier thinking of the swing set the writer has mentioned in the store. It’s an odd thing to find value in, and when you were a child, you recall you found you never really searched for any form of meaning; you didn’t really get life until around the age of fourteen… well, that’s what you like to say anyway; the age of fourteen was when you first thought about death. 

There and then, on that summers night in July, you were infected with the same sickness that has chased you into your twenties and you haven’t really been able to shake that feeling off. A blessing and a curse: to understand your humanity, yet to be burdened with the reality of what such means. You can’t imagine understanding the concept of having a meaning from such a young age and you presume the writer is discussing such from the perspective of a young child. 

Hindsight offers different interpretations, however. 

Looking back will never bring you the truth- perhaps that’s what the writers doing, you suppose. Although, you’re not quite sure. Your eyes grow heavier as you hold the book, yet, you persist despite the demand that you turn in for the night. 

Ever since the war broke out in Europe life has been a little funny and I found out that there’s more to life than a stupid swing set- but I’ve known that for a while now; if I bitched about missing home to the Captain, I’d probably get laughed at. But I do miss it, I miss being a kid cause I wanna go back and make up for everything I did. I wanna go back in time just for a day and live without any worries you know? I know I’ve changed and if I went back there, I probably wouldn’t even know what to do. 

I used to think writing was stupid, but since I wrote my mum a letter home, I found it made the thoughts in my mind go better- if that makes sense. Everything gets so loud sometimes and I don’t know what to do about it. Well, I didn’t for the first few weeks of training, but now it feels like everything makes sense because I’m putting them onto a page and just looking at them makes the fuzziness in my head better. 

I wish I could draw cause I wanna go back to the park sometimes but the best I can do are two shitty sticks and six lines. That’s not enough to jog my memory of the place and I’m scared if I’m not able to go home for a while that I’m gonna forget what the place looks like and I don’t wanna do that cause really, that’s my home. I’d like to go there again sometime, and when I get home from the war I think that’s the first place that I’m gonna go. Who knows, I might meet someone here- it might be worth my time after all. But, I think that’s just me being selfish cause there’s a lot more going on right now and here I am wishing to find someone. 

There’s a slight cheesiness to the narrative which makes your lips curl slightly as you begin to blink rapidly while the book in your hold wobbles. With a large sigh, in the midst of your sleepy state, you place the book down onto your mattress with a huff, reaching over with a tired yawn to reach for the dangling cord on your stained glass lamp settled at the side of your bed. With a firm tug, your room is coated in darkness. 

Settling back into the crisp covers of your double bed, you lick your dry lips, hooking your hand under the pillow as you pull it down slightly before resting your head upon it. It’s with ease that your eyes close and you find the chords of sleep inwardly, playing a low tune to yourself as your other hand caresses the open page of the book laying in the short space at the side of yourself. Your fingers curl around the old edges of the pages as a smile settles on your face before you finally give into the demands of your body, permitting yourself to finally rest for the night. 

—

When your eyes open again, you’re away from your bed with a set of eyes staring into your soul. 

There’s a woman standing over you.

You can feel her looking down at you, although, when you lift your head up in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her face, you find it’s covered by a shadow as the hood of the cloak she is wearing covers the majority of her features, the only feature poking out being the very edge of her chin. The pair of you stand for a moment, absorbing each others presence. As you keep looking at her, you note her arm is moving closer and closer to you. 

With a brooding strength, she captures your forearm and forces you through the forest. 

All air is forced out of your lungs at the sudden movement and you’re tripping over your own feet in an effort to keep up with the sudden manic pace she has forced you into. 

In an attempt to escape the woman’s hold as she continues to drag you, you attempt to keep her from taking you any further by digging your heels into the ground. Nothing stops her from getting her way however as her adamant nature plucks you right from out of the dirt just as a florists hand would upon spying a flower for their customer. 

So, you succumb to the desire of the cloaked woman and allow her forceful nature to dictate where you go. 

To try and quell the burning on your wrists, you decide to willingly follow her, yet, with the speed in which she is moving right now, it’s nearly impossible to match her. It’s as though you’re nothing more than an object to her; she’s pulling you like a stressed mum pulls a suitcase through the airport. You huff and puff behind her, staggering and stumbling as you push yourself to pick up the pace despite the burning in your calves and the closer you get, you find that the woman is grumbling to herself. 

It’s quiet and her voice, from what you catch, seems as though it’s completely shredded. 

‘Hello?’ you blurt, managing to break through the initial shock of such an encounter. 

She continues to pull you through the forest, however, her rambles quell at the sound of your voice and you’re left in silence, the only sounds meeting your ears being the branches of the trees moving in the wind, your breaths, and the swishing of the grass below you. Sucking on your teeth, you nurse a brewing anger as the woman continues to drag you like a child does with their doll, handling you with such disregard, you’re wondering what you ever did to hurt her.

She begins to ramble to herself again as you approach a wall of trees, and much to your surprise, the shrubbery and branches blocking the surrounding area begin to snap and bend, and from the centre there forms a circle. 

It slowly grows, more snaps filling your ears as they twist and bend, opening up for her like a set of arms would open to embrace a loved one. Once the gap in the tree line is big enough, her grip tightens on your arm again and she proceeds to pull you through without giving you much of a choice. 

The further into the forest you get, the warmth of nature seemingly disappears in the blink of an eye as the branches of the trees slowly begin to shift. The sky darkens and you find yourself looking up at it all to catch sight of the branches resembling sets of decrepit hands- one you assume would belong to the deceased. You follow the direction in which they point as you find they all curve in the same direction. 

At this point, you’re sure your feet are bleeding from the amount of sticks and stray stones you’ve tread on as she’s pulled you along with her, and as she pulls you in the direction that the branches are motioning toward, your eyes begin to water as a powerful gust of wind blows from a top of the hill, sweeping your hair which is sitting on your shoulders from off of them in one fair gust. 

The woman remains unbothered. 

Her hood remains atop her head, showing no signs of even budging and the white frock she is wearing remains in pristine condition. Meanwhile, you leer downwards to see that the green frock you have been adorned in has ripped at the bottom, most likely from the miles of the brambles and bushes you have been pulled through. The wind continues to blow fiercely and tears drip down your cheeks as you close your eyes hoping for some form of escape from such a peculiar nightmare. Your chest is tight, and for the first time in your life, you wish for death. You need something, something to pry you from this hell scape- something to get you out of this wicked witch’s hold. You’re blubbering under you breath as you sniffle, begging for something to take you away. 

The wind settles. 

You take a gasp of air as it does, your heart pounding against your chest as you look through bleary eyes at the golden light which brightens the world around you. The woman’s grip on your wrist vanishes as she proceeds up towards the hill where the light is located, and despite all the sirens in your head demanding you turn away from her, from the light, and rush in the opposite direction, you choose to remain right where the woman has left you. 

You’re sure that anyone else would be running for the wind right now, but not you. 

You watch onwards as the cloaked figure falls to the ground, crawling on their hands and knees up the hill, towards the light. She edges closer and closer before she stops just before the beaming light. She raises her hands above her head, twirling her wrists in a fluid motion. The more you focus, you note that her chin pokes out from the cloak which has covered her face and you catch a dip in her silhouette. Her mouth is open and she balls her fists. In the light you catch a rouge liquid dripping down her wrists, a few stray drops landing in her mouth.

You watch horrified at her actions, the light at the top of the hill beginning to flicker. 

Your entire body aches as you hear the woman let out a crudely erotic moan as blood drips down her chin. Through the flickering light, you catch the scarlet marking her frock as she turns her head away from you, bringing her hands down to the ground. Lowering herself further down, she presses herself against the dirt and the sight she releases rattles your own chest. It’s as though she’s relieved- she’s seemingly achieved something. 

Perhaps it was getting you here in one piece, but you’re unsure. 

‘Follow it through to the other side. Seek what it is that makes you run and hide.’ 

Her voice is broken, destroyed- it’s barely legible. It’s as though she has spent the entirety of her life screaming and screaming without something to soothe her. In some way, despite the aching in your entire body, you find your heart aching as she points towards the light in front of her. You have little time to make a decision for yourself as your body is pushing you forward, up the incline and towards the woman laying on the ground. 

Edging closer and closer, you find the light before you dulls the closer you get, allowing you to see just exactly what it is. It’s what you imagine a portal to look like. Broad, bold and in a spherical shape. With each step, you peer downwards to see the grass beneath you glows. Flowers blossom around your bleeding feet as you proceed forward, and as you grow closer and closer to the cloaked woman laying on the ground, you see her frame trembling. 

Her sobs fill her ears and you will your body to stop for a moment so you can ask her if she is okay. But, you cannot open your mouth and speak; your legs are moving whether you like it or not. Much to your dismay, you’re forced away from the sobbing woman and towards the entrance of the portal. 

You’re expecting to hear the woman following after you, but there’s nothing aside from her sobs. So, you turn your head to look behind you just to see the bloody woman still on the ground, only, this time, she is holding her hand up and pointing in the direction of the flickering light. Turning your head back, you take note of the structure. It’s similar to what she pulled you through before, only this time, you can’t see through to the other side. 

Holding your hand out, the tips of your fingers sink into the golden light. It’s wet. Like some form of slime, and when you pull your fingers from out of it, theres a shimmering golden gloop on your fingers. You grimace at the sight and texture of it as you find yourself edging closer and closer to it. 

Walking into it, you hear the sobbing of the woman’s breathing grow to the of a frantic pace. You continue to listen as she erupts in a ferocious mocking laugh. It’s too late now, you know it is as you’re unable to keep yourself from walking into the light, leaving the woman behind as you do so. 

You come through the other side, thick strings of the golden goop coating you and the frock you have been adorned in.Your eyes are screwed shut as you lift your hands to wipe away the gunk in and around your eyes, flinging strings of snot like slime either side as your eyes finally open and you take a deep breath looking around. 

The forest has altered, the greenness of the shrubbery in the surrounding area restored with the absence of the cloaked woman’s broken string of laughter. There’s a dull pain radiating from your feet as you step onto a bed of green grass, stiffly moving as the green fabric of your dress sticks to your legs. It’s thick and the fabric rubs against your thighs in an unappealing manner as you attempt to push through the horrific discomfort and press forward into the new land you’ve found yourself in. 

The wind pushes the trees and theres a small, almost inaudible crash as they knock into each other. While it sends a chill up your spine, you seek comfort in finding an understanding that this new place is safe; the sky is blue and the darkness and cold of the last location has dissipated and you’re free to roam without the harsh grip on your wrist from the woman wearing a cloak. 

There are bald patches in the grass and as you continue forward from the cocoon you appeared in, your heart warms with the golden rays of the sun shining down through the small holes in the trees. Your breathing settles and your chest raises and falls in quaint manner. It’s a relief to you, all the stress you’ve suffered has faded and you’re left in a subtle sense of harmony as the birds nestled in the trees sing you a song, mixing well with a faint squeaking you catch hidden behind a curtain of vines before you. 

With furrowed eyebrows, you pursue the sound actively, moving quicker on your feet as you push forward. The coldness of the grass is a delightful feeling, soothing the ache with ease as you nearly bound forward in hopes of seeking what is making such a peculiar noise. 

As you edge closer and closer, you reach your hand out before you, pushing a few of the vines to the side. Poking your head through the space you’ve made for yourself, you take your time to soak in the scene before you. Much to your surprise, you catch a man adorned in an odd uniform, his hands firmly grasping the chains of the swing he is sat upon, gently drifting from side to side as he looks down at something in his lap. You can’t quite make out what he is looking at; the mixture of slime from your hair is dripping down your forehead, clinging to your eyelashes, and such renders your sight slightly blurry. 

Still, you narrow your eyes as you take in the sight of him. His skin is a rich, highlighted in a flattering manner by the rays of sun shining down on him. His jawline is sharp, jutted as he purses his lips. You soak in his clothing which resembles that of an wartime uniform… perhaps the First World War, although, truthfully, you remain unsure. The uniform is branded with a dusty brown colour, and there’s a hat perched upon his head, the lips of the hat keeping you from seeing his eyes as it forms a dense, thick shadow. 

His entire body is bathed in sunlight which is pointed in his direction, and you feel your heart murmur at the sight of him sitting so peacefully, entertaining himself in this peculiar paradise you’ve found yourself nestled in. The nature around you seems to shift: the daisies hidden in the tall grass move to leer in your direction, the vines around you twist to hold your waist as you stand and stare at the man sitting on the swing. The swing set appears almost brand new, despite the creaking, the poles in the ground standing strong and sturdy, a charming gleam meeting your eye. 

It’s as though it’s winking at you. 

You stand and bear witness to the sight unfolding before you. As you push the vines further upwards with ease, the shrubbery surrounding you moulds to your hold, a buzz travelling through the stem. It’s similar to the buzzing of a swarm of bees, and you’re quick to drop the vine with a small gasp escaping you as you continue forward, your bare feet stepping on a branch. Wincing, your shoulders bunch up to the lobes of your ears and you screw your eyes shut. 

If he didn’t hear you moving the vines, he has absolutely heard you now.

The squeal from the swing comes to a sudden stop and you slowly open your eyes to see the man looking directly at you. Swallowing deeply, you take a step back holding your hands out in an attempt to dissuade whatever harsh words you anticipate him having. You feel terrible for disturbing him amidst his comfort and can’t help but feel like you have destroyed everything about the paradise you have found yourself in. You throat tightens as you’re overcome with an emotion you can’t say you’ve ever felt. You can just about muster out a short breath as he grabs whatever is resting on his legs and disregards it, tossing it to the side. And then he finally looks at you. 

Your eyes meet and you’re greeted with a warmth that has you feel as though you’re about to break out into hives and you can’t help but feel embarrassed at the state you’re in. His eyes twitch as he looks at you for the first time, you note how his eyes lids drop and his head tilts slightly. You know you look a mess, yet, there’s nothing conveying disgust, instead, he keeps a soft look in his eyes as he addresses you, holding his arm out to you as though he’s calming a frightened stray dog. 

‘It’s alright,’ he firmly says, ‘sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you, ‘have a habit of gettin’ stuck in my head.’

You stare blankly at him. 

‘Where am I?’

‘Steadway Park,’ he confirms with a nod of his head as he slowly approaches you. ‘I used to love this place when I was a kid, you know?’

‘It’s quiet,’ you shortly respond, looking around. 

Your arm is beginning to ache as you maintain your hold on the thick vines, yet, you feel like an intruder walking into a home you don’t own. And quite frankly, you know you don’t. He’s been here much longer than you have, you understand that from his attire and the sternness of his brow, yet, in the midst of all that maturity, the image of him settled upon the swing allows you to seek out some form of youth in him. 

He doesn’t quite look tarnished by the uniform he’s dressed in. 

‘Good place to come when the thoughts in my head get too loud,’ he answers. 

Now, he’s standing in front of you, and he moves the vines to the side, gesturing you to step into the place he has had for so long. Up close, he’s much taller than you anticipated, although, his stature isn’t one you find yourself fearful of- in fact- you find your shadows meld well together. His gesture reminds you of that of a kind house guest who is allowing you into their private space, so, you step through, feeling a warmth beaming from the sun as you slowly pan around the surrounding area to grasp where exactly you have ended up. 

‘I used to come here all the time when I was a kid- played a lot with me friends.’ 

‘Why did you stop?’

‘Thought I was too cool for it when I was a teen,’ he says with a short laugh, ‘I don’t know where that idea came from; I’d do anything’ to be back as a kid,’ he explains, and you catch him glancing down at the uniform he’s adorned in. 

Wandering away from the entrance you appeared through, he lazily strolls back up to the swing set, placing his hand against the bar of it as he looks up to it. There’s a twinkle in his eyes which you find to be terribly endearing. And then he turns his head back to you, and this time, you feel his eyes scanning your frame as you stiffly stand under his analytic gaze, shivering as though you dove right into the arctic sea. 

‘What happened to you?’ he asks. 

‘I—‘ you begin, thinking back to moments before. 

Only, as you tread the steps, your sore feet and the reason as to why you’re burdened with such damage has blurred. ‘Well, I was… I was walking and then I… I don’t know,’ you say. ‘I’m covered in this… goop, and I don’t know what happened,’ you say, looking down to note that the colour of gold has been replaced by grotesque redness. 

Your eyes trail further up your arms and you look as though you have part-took in some sort of sick slaughter as the remnants of your fading past cling to you, congealing like blood in a scabbing wound. Taking a breath, you lift your head back to meet him. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you firmly say, ‘I don’t know what happened, and the more I think, the harder it’s getting to remember.’ 

His teeth are gleaming as he smiles at you, tucking a hand into his pocket whilst the other rubs his mouth. You catch him nodding to himself before he slowly approaches you, taking hold of you wrists as he pulls your arms gentle out in front of you. It’s a tender touch, one you’re sure he would offer to a lover, yet, here he is, offering you such a softness as a stranger. Pulling you forward, you willingly follow his steps as he moves you past the swings, shifting behind you. His chest is pressed against your wet back, and before you can open your eyes, his arm enters your rearview as he point in the direction that the sun is shining from.

A gasp escapes you as you stare out onto the lake stationed before you, it’s vastness nearly swallowing up the mountains beyond it as they cover the skyline. The water is as blue as the sky is, and sun has settled atop the water nicely. 

‘The water there is clean,’ he informs, ‘you can drink from it an’ with every sip you’ll want more of it. It’s good for the soul- I reckon it could heal anythin’ if you fought hard enough.’ 

His voice rumbles through his chest, the vibrations carrying through your back as you feel him let out a breath. 

‘I never noticed it when I came here- I don’t even think it’s a part of that park.’ 

‘Then what is it?’ you ask quietly, looking up at him. 

‘I don’t know,’ he confesses, ‘wishful thinking, I guess.’

His comments leaves an uneasiness in your chest as you slowly begin to move towards it. He moves with you, not daring to let you out of his hold as you pushes forward with you as though you’re some form of precious cargo that is in need of protection. His commitment is striking, you note such personally as you move down a slight incline, stepping off of the grass onto damp sand. You shiver at the sudden coldness against your aching feet, letting out a breath of delight at the sensation as you feel his arms loosen around you. 

‘You can clean yourself up here,’ he says, ‘wash the blood off of you.’ 

Your eyes dart down at the redness, finding your hands have grown tacky with the substance. You want to choke out an excuse, not wanting him to get the wrong idea of you. You look at him with wild eyes as he lowers himself onto the sand, taking a seat before you. The look in his eyes as he looks at you is knowing, as though his eyes have caught you before. 

‘Are you sure?’ 

You can’t quite explain why you feel rude, but you do. 

‘I’ll be right here if you need something,’ he says, ‘you’re safe here… with me.’

A smile strikes your face.

‘Thank you…’ your words fizzle out. 

‘Private Garrick,’ he says, ‘people call me Gaz.’ 

‘Well, Gaz,’ you smile, peering over your shoulder at the water, ‘thank you.’

You catch yourself talking to the man as though you’ve known each other for years, and you offer him one more smile before you turn away from him, slowly walking into the water. It’s cold against your burning flesh and you raise your hand to your face, noting that your cheeks are burning up at the lingering words of the man sitting on the shore who is waiting for your return. 

Your legs don’t stop, even when the water passes your waist, and you walk until your head is beneath the surface. 

—

You awake with a crude gasp as you hear a loud thud, almost choking on your hair as you sharply inhale. Quickly sitting up, your eyes ache as you shift in your pyjamas. They’re sticking to your skin in a grotesque as sweat pours from your pores.

Grimacing, a yawn escapes you as the sun greets you through the crack in your curtains, almost blinding you as you turn your head to the side, finding the book you started last night is on the floor, laying with the next chapter open. 

Let me know if you would like to be added to the series taglist !!

[aghostiewitdahoodie]

⟣ Synopsis: Being away from you, Simon is feeling blue.

⟣ Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

⟣ Warnings: None, Just Fluff

⟣ This is my work, my writing. Do not steal or repost elsewhere.

A stone cold of a wall he has.

A heart so numb, so idle.

A routine so monotonous.

A life as dull as it could be.

Grey as grey could be.

A day to waste.

A day to come to an end.

A day to repeat.

Over and over again.

The man spread long on the bed, insomnolence dominating the vessel of his, orbs fixated towards the rectangle that shelters over him, a mind deprived and starved of affection, appreciation.

Stir and stir.

Nictate and nictate.

No matter.

A hurricane of thoughts.

A serene reflection.

No difference.

A vessel he puppets, a vessel to put on a show, a vessel empty behind closed doors. So shallow and yet a depth so cavernous you can sense the bed.

A soul tormented on a pathetic prison of a life, longing for the infinite gloom. Finding the isolation closest to obtaining serenity.

Simon reached his palm towards his temples, caressing them in a circular motion, yearning to put an end to the day despite it only being halfway over. Being active and engaging in warfare delays his mind from forming a thought, no wonder he despises being inoperative.

A plain sound of a slipped letter under his door removed the traces of his declining character. In a hurry, he extended his hand to collect it, eager to read and receive his antidote.

Simon ambled to the desk which averts his quarters from being bare, his mask- his persona settled between him and the lamp. Adoring the envelope that rests on his calloused hands, he moves it closer to him, yearning to sense the existence of his strength and his weakness.

Reminiscing the memory of you imprisoned in his embrace, never wanting to pull away from you. Your heavenly scent overwhelming him yet he could never get enough.

Simon’s rough digits gently glide through the letter, diligent about your creation despite his growing desperation.

Reminiscing the memory of his digits slowly caressing your soothing skin while his lips paint your neck with his very own art.

Simon unveiled the letter, his hands on either side, his auburn orbs carefully read your passionate words.

Reminiscing the memory of you declaiming a novel to a-minute-close to a slumbering him, regardless he hears every word that is departing from your lips. It was a music to his organ of hearing.

My dearest Simon,

I long for time we meet again. I see you, I smell you and I hear you everywhere I go. I miss you greatly, no words can compare. I await for your orbs to gaze at me. I await for your touch on my skin. I await to hear your voice responding to my needs. I await for your lips to fall on mine. How have you been, my lieutenant?

Your love, Y/N

Simon is situated by his desk, a palm clasped on his mouth as he finished reading the letter of yours. A mere moment had passed before he picks up a paper and a pen, eager to respond to you.

You are why he continues. You are why he finds the strength despite everything. In a world so cruel and unforgiving, you are his ethereal.

[dansconcepts]

Marinette's Long-Convoluted Plan to Help Lila Learn Who She Really Is Even If It Really Is Just Being A Liar And Maybe Be Her Friend?

AKA a long title because I think Marinette would and also because this was how I called it in my document and I found that insanely funny.

This IS meant to be Lilanette-coded but it's subtle and conceptual, very much a set-up than anything substantial (much like this drabble). No particular timeline here except maybe after her season 1 appearance to early season 2.

This wasn't a part of her plans. 

She twisted every little fact to obey her whims, even though she wasn't even trying too hard. Was she really a good liar if she just strung words together that no one really looked into? Must be her pretty face that did all the work on that one.

She knew that too. Look where that got her. 

How she managed to look her in the eye and feel anything but contempt is nothing short of a miracle. 

She could feel her own face warm, for fuck's sake! Merda!

It wasn't fair at all. She wasn't supposed to look like an adorable mess every morning, she wasn't supposed to have her sickened by her own bullshit, and she wasn't supposed to despise and depend on pointed words like it was her only lifeline. 

With every lie, she felt it weigh and start to crush her. First, it was her mentality. It threatened to consume her and drown her in its depths. Then, it was her appearance. The way she couldn't force herself to keep up her makeup routine anymore and revealing the bags underneath, her wigs and contacts being a muddled mess on the floor- all of it becoming an effort she didn't want to bother extending anymore, shallow as her motivations were.

And she was there, sneaking glances at how decrepit she began to look. She watched how her silence began to outweigh the times she filled the air with her bragging.

"Um. Mon Dieu, this is so stupid, why am I even trying?!" Marinette, not-so-subtly whisper-screamed at herself. Lila only stared at her, already thinking how this would be the nail on the head to cause her to leave and finally be gone. 

"Hey." The girl, finally done with her self-discussion, attempted to smile at her. It had way too much teeth. 

What is she trying to do? Lila sighed.

"Marinette." She stated, neither particularly pointed or enthusiastic. Instead of doing much of anything, she glanced down. She offered no follow-up questions either, which explained why "her" class president seemed to freeze up for a minute. 

Marinette recovered though, just like she expected her to. "Lila." She said, with the same deadpan as her. She was on a mission, the liar could tell. But for what? Was she actually concerned… about her? No, she hated her too much for that. 

"I noticed you've been a little… weird? Lately? If that makes sense?"

Usually painted lips, now chapped, turned up into a half-hearted smirk. "Why? Is it because I'm not really lying anymore about being a friend of a celebrity or a humanitarian contributing to charity? Lying isn't my only personality trait you know-"

"It sure seems like it does." Blue eyes glared at her. "Because you've been lying about being okay." 

Oh. 

"And I think that means something." Marinette confesses, and she looks dead on at her, searching for something. Probably her soul. Probably for something in her cold, dead heart. Probably a flicker of some kind of remorse for her cruelty, or something typical like that. 

She knows she could question it. Parrot her words and mock them, twist them to cement her already terrible- and nonetheless true- image of her in her mind, stomping the clear olive branch being reached out to her. 

She whispers, defeated, instead. "Why?" 

Instantly, that response seems to strengthen the girl in front of her, her spine straightening and causing her to take just one step into her direction a little more. 

"I want to talk about it with you, if you'd like."

"No." She spits out. As if Lila would take that hint to her already diminished pride.

But the girl in front of her has a sparkle in her eyes, as if the tiny word hid affirmation instead.

"You know, I'm not doing this just so you can abuse me. You're going to have to put your own work into this too, you know." 

Lila glares. There’s gotta be something to all this. Marinette meets her eyes easily.

"I am, in fact, here because 'our' friends were concerned about you, since they all still believe you're a saint-" She knew it! Even if, for some reason, a flash of something squeezed her heart at the admission, "-but that doesn't mean I'm leaving with my job technically done now. I'm not leaving you alone, Lila.

I don't think we're going to even last as friends, or anything. I know you think I have some saviour complex or something. I don't really care about saving you, you know, but…" She tugs at her pigtails a little, and is pink dusting her face? "I think you could save yourself, and I wanna be there to remind you you could."

Something about that admission stirs something in her. She lets out a gust of air to blow a fake strand of hair out of her face. "Not going to tell me that I can be a good person if I try?"

Marinette hums thoughtfully. "Well, regardless on whether I believe that's true or not-" Lila mentally supplies, you definitely don't, but keeps silent. "I think I'd like to see who you are, for a change. Beyond all the lies. After all, 'lying isn't your only personality trait', right?" 

Her smile now, it's real. And just a little bit, there's a coy shine to it. 

She wants to sigh again, but instead, her lips form automatically for her in the opposite direction, just a tiny bit. 

Maybe this is the moment she could say she started to feel anything. Maybe this is the moment she'll look back on in the future and say "Even then, I knew I was in love with her". 

In this moment, though, she gulped and stared back at midnight blue eyes. "Don't expect anything much from me, but… I could try."

The shine remained. "I figured that much."

Then, Marinette closed the distance from her step on the stairs to her, running over to her and clasping her hand. She barely managed to let out a "Wha-?!" in response to the sudden contact before she was staggering upwards in her heels. 

Finally catching her bearings, she catches Marinette's squeaked, "S-sorry! I didn't mean to do that so suddenly, I just-"

Lila puffed, but a smile danced on her lips instead of the lie usually on display. I could get used to this feeling. "You're really affectionate, I know." She lets out a long-drawn, exaggerated sigh. "I signed up for this, didn't I? Goodness." 

She feels more than merely sees the frown overtaking Marinette's features. 

"I didn't mean anything much by it." She admits.

The responding wink she gets back is humiliating. "I know."

"Come on. Let's get going." She says, and Lila tries to ignore that she was dragged away, because she needed to compute the fact she was already getting a taste of what true friendship could look like, and she was already addicted to it.

Thus, it began. Marinette's Long-Convoluted Plan to Help Lila Learn Who She Really Is Even If It Really Is Just Being A Liar And Maybe Be Her Friend? commenced.

And if something more happens? Well… that definitely wasn’t planned.

[medea10]

The Year was 2024 and Oh What Fresh Hell Am I Living In?!

I know this is my yearly post where I’m supposed to be upbeat. But this year was such a pile of shit, I don’t think I can be upbeat. I never thought a year could possibly rival that of the devil’s butt-hole of 2005. I still can’t say it. 2005 is still a year I will despise from the depths of my soul due to the gravity of the situations I was in. But 2024 was just awful. And no, this has nothing to do with Trump being re-elected. That happened in November and I had a whole 10 months of other shit before that. Although that did not help. And yes, I will be waiting in the wings to give the biggest and smuggest “I told you so” when the time comes.

In 2024, sickness, depression, and death has plagued my inner circle for the majority of the year. I know one of those deaths I was expecting so I was prepared for it mentally. What I wasn’t prepared for was the sudden death of my youngest cat and the sudden death to a friend of over 30 years.

If I had a nickel for every time this year someone close to me died of Cardiac Arrest, I would have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.

Not to mention the surgeries, the sinus infections, the endo pain…All of this and more has really taken a toll on what I love to do. There were a lot of anime that I watched this year and a lot that I didn’t have the energy to write about. I just absolutely gave up on writing. I watched shows like Bungo Stray Dogs, Jujutsu Kaisen, and Dandadan, and I am not writing a single review for those and more. Does this mean I’m going to stop writing reviews forever? Probably not. I’m just slowly trying to get back to normality. Okay, I think that’s enough kvetching from me.

If you’re unfamiliar with this post, every year I do my (so, so outdated) list of the anime and games I watched and played this year. And I’m very inclusive to everything I’ve watched. So, if I watched an anime and it came out seven years before I was even born, it counts. Okay, let’s hit it!

First Fandom of 2024: The Apothecary Diaries

I know this came out in Fall 2023, but I picked up the series at the beginning of the year while it was still airing. And from the very beginning, I couldn’t turn it off as I was captivated by Maomao’s tale. I’ll be honest, up until I watched this, I had no idea what an apothecary was. I’m dumb. Well, I certainly don’t have any more questions after watching this anime. It was fun watching Maomao progress throughout the series in her many roles she served in the palace. And I’m going to get a lot of hate when I say this. I liked the Apothecary Diaries better than Frieren. I am not even sorry.

Favorite Main Character of 2024: Hitori "Bocchi" Gotou from Bocchi the Rock

While I was close to choosing Maomao for this category, I did watch Bocchi the Rock this year and I can’t resist putting up another introvert who has a hard time communicating. Yeah, I can connect with Bocchi and understand how her mind works. I’ve been there. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I over-analyzed a situation involving communicating with friends or scenarios.

Favorite Villain of 2024: Galaxia from Sailor Moon Cosmos

I know I’m reliving watching Makoto Shishio on Rurouni Kenshin, but I cannot in good conscience sleep on Galaxia’s reign during the two-part Sailor Moon movies. There is no comparison between the Cosmos and Stars adaptation, Cosmos wins. Galaxia killed off Mamoru in front of Usagi. Not just him, but all of her friends and this girl is just wrecked. Galaxia is the strongest foe in the Sailor Moon universe. This woman can destroy single planets in no-time flat. She can zap anyone out of existence like they were nothing. Galaxia went to the trouble to mentally hurt Usagi by having her loved ones turn against her.

Favorite Video Game Character of 2024: Vivian from Paper Mario The Thousand Year Door

As I did not have a Nintendo Gamecube, I never played this game or had any idea of its existence. It came out when I was in college and the only console I had was the GBA SP. So, I never knew of this precious cinnamon roll. I want to protect them like they protected me. Vivian doesn’t deserve hate. In fact, next to baby Yoshi, I used Vivian the most out of all the other partners.

Favorite Video Game of 2024: …

Much like last year, I had an interesting time reliving old classics on the DS and 3DS. Had to play it while I could online. But then we had quite the influx of Mario games within the last 12 months. There was a Luigi game, a Peach game, another Mario/Luigi RPG, another Mario Party, and a remake to a fan favorite. I wound up playing three of these and even older versions of those three. The video games really helped me through this year. As with the previous entry, I gotta give it to…

Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door

Okay you Gamecubers, you were right. This was fun. I had fun.

Favorite Het Couple of 2024: Itsuomi Nagi x Yuki Itose from A Sign of Affection

Yuki is a precious cinnamon roll and I want nothing but the best for her. Itsuomi better treat her well. And that’s what we get with this series. A deaf girl meets a multi-lingual boy and the two hit it off. Itsuomi is always up for a challenge to learn a new language and culture, but has never learned sign language before. And Yuki, she just wants to expand her world as it just felt like it was mostly restraint.

Favorite Yuri Couple of 2024: Diana Barry x Anne Shirley from Akage no Anne (Anne of Green Gables)

Yeah, that’s the anime that I nodded at being seven years older than me. Now, I know this isn’t an actual ship, but please do bear with me with this. If you watched the original 1979 anime, you know why I would put this on the list. And for those waiting until April 2025 to see the new adaptation, you’ll see. Anne and Diana became fast friends and if they are ever apart, they are the most dramatic characters you will ever see. If their parents or guardians forbid them from seeing each other again, you would have thought they were going to go Romeo and Juliet on us.

Favorite Yaoi Couple of 2024: Adachi Kiyoshi x Yuuichi Kurosawa from Cherry Magic

Like there was any other Yaoi couple this year that could compete with this one. I mean, sure there could be others, but from what I watched, no way. You cannot compete with the ending we got from this. I was worried about this becoming another toxic relationship like some other yaoi ships I support. While this one was…borderline that, I give credit to Kurosawa for not doing what I thought he was going to do. His jealousy is another subject. But overall, seeing an office crush evolve into sudden romance and eventually marriage, it chokes you up inside a little.

Fandom That You Didn’t Expect to Get Into: Dragon Ball Daima

I will admit that the second it was announced we were getting another Dragon Ball series where Goku and the rest of the cast are turned into little children, my first thought was, “Fuck you! We’ve been through this before with Dragon Ball GT. No! Go back in the dumpster fire where you came from”. That was until I heard Akira Toriyama was actually involved unlike with GT. I unfortunately don’t know how it’ll go as Toriyama passed away earlier this year, but for now let’s just enjoy Daima for what it is. It wasn’t just Goku becoming a child, but everyone involved in the Majin Buu incident that’s turned into children. The characters Goku is traveling with, they’re a lot better than Pan and an essentially neutered Trunks.

Fandom That Made an Unexpected Comeback: Black Butler

All of my favorite Aniplex animes made a return this year. Hell, there were a lot of comebacks this year. But Black Butler was still my go-to for the year (along with Spice and Wolf). While I was hella skeptical when it came to the studio at the helm for this arc, they pulled it off. Despite the seven-year wait since the last project, it felt like less time once I started watching. Probably because Book of the Atlantic and Public School arc kinda dealing with the same thing.

Fandom That Inspired the Most Crack: Dandadan

I was this close to putting Mashle in this category, but a certain anime where a spirit known as “Turbo Granny” is after this kid’s nutsack. This anime is batshit and I love it. I’m going in thinking this is some wacky-ass shit that was conceived by Studio Trigger. On the contrary, it was done by Science SARU. That makes sense as Ayase looks like Tsubame from Keep Your Hands Off Eizoken. Same studio for both. Every episode I’m going through the motions. Mostly it’s, “What the fuck am I watching” or “Am I high” or “this is awesome, but totally fucked in the membrane”.

Last Fandom of 2024: Dandadan

Ranma ½ was almost going to get this spot due to my nostalgia for everything Rumic World. But, Dandadan is just too addicting let’s give it the final two spots on my usual list. I wasn’t sure what I was hopping into when I picked this up at the very last second, but I’m glad I did it. Who knew watching an anime about ghosts, aliens, demons, and the contents inside some kid’s boxers was going to get me to watch. Who are we kidding? I’m surprised I didn’t jump on this shit sooner. Also, episode 7 is a treasure. It didn’t kill me like everyone else, but it was a really good episode. Another also, the English dub is superb.

Okay, I’m going to take a page from my 2022 superlative and do some silly honors here. It’s only to lift up my spirits.

Best (real life) Cinnamon Roll of 2024: Jasmine Paolini

This girl is just the best. She’s black and Italian (like me). She’s 5’ 4” (like me). And she plays tennis…I don’t play tennis, but I’ll watch. She won the tennis doubles finals at the Olympics. She made it to the single finals at Wimbledon and Roland Garros. And you know what, she’s an all-around good sport and just the sweetest thing to come from Italy since gelato.

Video Game That Didn’t Deserve a 5/10: Mario and Luigi Brothership

It’s a plumber brother RPG game. You’ve played them before. You should know how the mechanics are going to be by now. And you should know how insane it is. Although, I feel like the conception of the game came from game designers staring at a wall for 9 days straight.

Funny NFL Moment: Andy Reid’s Mustache

I know everyone still memes Andy Reid and Travis Kelce at the Super Bowl. But I’m still going with the game a couple of weeks before that when Reid’s mustache formed icicles. I know it was a very chilly game and I got worried about the players on the field. That weather was dangerous. However, frozen snot-bubbles on Reid’s mustache is what I’m going to chuckle at. As if I needed any more reason to compare Andy Reid to The Walrus. Look at those two and tell me they aren’t identical.

A Song Everyone Should Stop Singing: Defying Gravity

I love the song, but it’s not for everyone. Stop trying. The song is out of your range.

Oh Just DIE Already of 2024: Velma

Uuuuugggggggghhhhhhhh.

A Pokemon Ship I Miss Gushing About: Contestshipping

You notice how I didn’t mention Pokemon in the list this year. Yeah, me neither. While I like Pokemon Horizons just fine, I don’t find myself being a total dork-a-doofus over every little thing like with the original Pokemon anime. And for no reason whatsoever, here’s Drew x May. I miss it. You miss it. We all miss it. It was totally canon. And if you haven’t watched Pokemon Advanced Generation to know what I’m talking about. Fuck you doing here? It’s been around for 20 years now. GO!

Best Dance Scene: Abbott Teachers Dancing to Will Smith

Holo’s dance from Spice and Wolf was a close one. But the teachers of Abbott dancing to Will Smith’s Wild Wild West just wins hands down.

Something That Sparks Joy: MeTV Toons

Thank you for existing.

Best Day of 2024: May 30th, 2024

If you know, you know. I also liked it because I ate some damn good pizza.

[moltenwrites]

Writing interview tag!

Ohoho this one is exciting! Thanks @the-letterbox-archives for the tags. Your answers were sick, it was a very interesting read. This one is a long one, but the goal is to answer a LOT of questions. A empty list will be at the bottom with the tags!

About me

When did you start writing?

Oo im not sure? I started “ seriously “ writing a couple of years ago when I took a writing class, but I wouldn’t say I was really a “ writer “ untill I started working on How Our World Ended a few years ago

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?

Oh 100% I haven’t been reading that much lately, but I mostly read horror and mystery. While I sneak in horror sometimes, I’ve never really been compelled to write a mystery story

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?

If I’m honest, no to both of those. I have authors I love, but i have my own thing. And people don’t compare me to any author. Weither that’s good or bad is up to you I guess

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I write with my old, shitty Chromebook on my bed with my pillow propped up as a back rest. My PC keyboard is very loud and just not too fun to write with, and I despise writing on mobile. If I’m in the mood, I turn on some music and get to work

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I’m gonna answer this question in two different ways, how I get inspiration for ideas, and how I get in the writing vibe. For the first, it’s honestly just seeing something I like and going “ I wanna do that “ or listening to a song while some grand story plays out in my head. For ACTUALLY writing, that’s tricky. I normally write late, but if a friend is up talking about whatever thing ive really liked as of late can help. Thinking ahead to scenes I’m excited to write helps, especially when I listen to music that I tie to those moments.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?

I mean, I’m sure they did subconsciously somehow- but I tend to write in fantasy, and my suburban ass life doesn’t really lend to my ideas well. Though I will say, my moms fondness for museums has inspired Paintings a good bit

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?

Yeah, a good few. I’d say grief, and how it impacts people is the most prevalent theme across my stories. This is a bit surprising since I’ve ( fortunately ) not lost too many people in my life

Characters:

would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

Oo this one is HARD. I can pick my favorite for each story easily but OVERALL is really hard. I’m torn between Lars from Souls Collide, or The Artist from How Our World Ended. Both characters mean so much to me, and I’d say those two are the characters I’ve made with the most depth. Ughh this is difficult. I guess I’ll say Lars for now, just because of how prevalent and important to me he’s been

Also I know it’s not what the question is asking, but my favorite character that I DIDNT make is Sunny from OMORI

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

I think I’d vibe with most of the souls collide cast, considering they were initially based off of people I knew. I also think I’d get along with Asim and Astera from Paintings, along with Lyra and Val from How Our World Ended.

which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?

Oh god most of them. I write TERRIBLE people. Samaueal would just kill me- I’d hate Nelios, he’s a dick, Ryder from Souls Collide was based off of a person I disliked in real life, Salazar is pretentious and WOULD kill me, Dimitri is the worst- I can go on. But the worst is Samaueal, considering he would just kill me for the hell of it

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters?

It’s real weird. I either see something I like, and want to steal it in some way, so i base a character off of them. Asim and Astera are heavily influenced by Mary and Reginald from Cemetery Mary, Hart is inspired by Walter White, the whole council was inspired by the organization from Kingdom Hearts. But for characters I didn’t partially steal, it mostly just comes to me when listening to music. Some characters were also created out of necessity, and evolved far past that.

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

Yup. I tend to write certain types of characters very formally, my protags are often shaken by one particularly harrowing event, and they almost all have some sort of huge internal fight with themselves.

How do you picture your characters?

It depends! Most of the time, I imagine every character in the style I wanted Souls Collide to be, but for certain scenes ( especially fights with Res ) I see it in live action.

My writing:

what’s your reason for writing?

I have a whole lotta ideas and gotta get them out SOMEHOW.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating?

Literally anything positive anyone says makes my day. You all have been more supportive than irl friends. But the things that make my day are either people predicting what comes next in private circles, and for comments here, saying that people like a character or are interested in a story makes me beam. I will die if I ever get fan art ( in a good way )

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

However they wanna. You don’t have to see me any way, but I’ve tried to be a positive force here, so I guess that.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I don’t wanna sound egotistical, but my ideas are really cool ( at least I think so )

What have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?

I’ve been told that what I can do is impressive. I remember one specific interaction about the artist that was incredibly kind.

How do you feel about your own writing?

It depends. I’m incredibly proud of my recent work. I love how Paintings is coming along, and I think the laster chapters of How Our World Ended are the best things I’ve ever written. Anything over two years old is dogshit though, I was in physical pain rereading the first draft of chapter 4

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?

Gonna be real, don’t think I’d live. But in the event I continued living for whatever reason, maybe? I don’t know, that’s a hard ass question.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

I write plots entirely for myself, but I try to thing about what issues there are with my plot from a readers perspective. Idk if that sounds crazy, but thinking about stuff from an outsider perspective can be helpful in editing.

Annnd that’s all, this took me life half an hour wow. Here’s the question list ( It’s unspaced so fellow mobile users can actually copy it all ) Thanks for reading it all, if you did, it’s a super fun exercise!

About meWhen did you start writing?Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?can you tell me a bit about your writing space? What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?Characters: would you please tell me about your current favorite character? Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters? Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?How do you picture your characters? My writing: what’s your reason for writing?Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating? How do you want to be thought about by your readers?What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?How do you feel about your own writing?If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

Annnnd tag list!

@thatuselesshuman @ddgraywrites @jjoneswriting @revenantlore @aintgonnatakethis @yourpenpaldee @illarian-rambling @autism-purgatory @the-letterbox-archives @theverumproject @gioiaalbanoart @noxxytocin @joseph-hooser @mk-writes-stuff @yrndrgn @wyked-ao3

+ Open, as always

[doingthingsthewriteway]

Moss

request: yes

summary: Daisy Pt. 2. More trials (and a lot of fluff) between doc and daisy

Doc Holliday was a lot of things and stupid was not on that list. Something that often got him in a heap of trouble was his education. Quick witted remarks in a variety of languages would swirl around his brain, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice. He was well versed in novels, theater, nocturnes, and even a dash of politics. His understanding of God and the universe was also impressive. 

So no, he certainly wasn’t stupid. Why then was his Daisy hiding things from him? Did she think his male nature made him inherently oblivious to the state of things? Clearly something was wrong. 

Smoke from a pipe- not a cigar nor cigarette but herbs his Y/N read about to ease his pain thank you very much- billowed around swirling with all of his doubts. Doc puffed away as he thought back on all of the recent nonsense. 

First was subtle. One fine evening, Doc’s family gathered in the Oriental. He felt himself glow with pride as the Earp’s and Y/N surrounded him each night. Sometimes he thought he was delirious with another fever as the sound of laughter and touches of affection enveloped him. 

That evening, however, as he waited patiently for Y/N return to his lap, a frown furrowed his handsome face. She balanced on his thighs, glass in hand. “Darlin’?” He tapped the glass with a hesitant finger. “You switch to gin?” 

Her laugh was enough to erase the frown. “No, huckleberry, I thought we could benefit from some water. I still don’t want you drinking, can’t live without you.”

“Oh hell, honey, you’re stuck with my nonsense for the rest of your life.” Her pretty eyelashes and bustle free legs were enough to make him forget. 

Then, all together, Y/N stopped their evening nightcap. Now, yes he needed to quit his drinking to excess, but a glass of bourbon with his baby every night surely was not a problem. Doc wondered if going to the Oriental every night reminded his bride of his affair, which seemed reasonable. Certainly not willing to be on the receiving end of her wrath anytime soon, he let that go. 

Next was more straight forward. Wyatt had received tickets for boxsets at the Birdcage. Y/N loved Faust so naturally Doc jumped at the chance for a family outing. His darling all but squealed with delight when Doc sauntered into suite, with a dress bag slung over his arm. 

“May I have the pleasure of escorting you to the depths of hell tonight, Mrs. Holliday?” Mustached lips tickled up her arm, over her collarbone, and down to her cleavage. 

“Oh absolutely, Mr. Holliday!” Taking the dress out of the brown wrapping, she gasped. “Oh, John!” It was her turn to sprinkle his gruff face with kisses. 

The maroon silk looked downright sinful on his bride (and she thought the exact same thing about his matching waist coat). The Hollidays were a sight to behold in Tombstone. With her on his arm, Doc felt all the southern gentry he was raised in. Nothing could make him feel unworthy of power or love. 

Settled in the dim theater, Y/N fanned herself, a rush of heat hitting her. A holler from the floor seats broke her trance and drew her eyes of the one she despised most. Johnny Ringo practically howled at her, tongue wagging like a rabid dog. 

“Pay no mind to Mr. Ringo.” A gentle hand grasped her chin and forced her attention back to Doc, where it belong he reasoned. “Only I may purchase your soul.” 

Y/N’s eyes fluttered and hummed in delight. “You already have, Doc.” That settled his swirling doubts. Yes, he liked to think he held her soul inside his own. His soul clutching to hers in order to survive. He owned her, not in an oppressive sense. Not like how his father view his mother, but in the way that she was his and his alone and he could proudly say the same. 

Yet, just shy of intermission his darling uttered a “oh fuck” under her breath. Doc chuckled, eyebrow quirked in amusement. Yet before he could comment on the lewd nature of his otherwise polite wife, she was grasping her skirts and rushing out of the box. 

Before he could even move, Allie Earp ran after his wife. Looking at the remaining Earps- excluding Wyatt who looked all too close to committing something dangerous- Doc glared. “Something I don’t know?” 

“Lady stuff?” Morgan suggested earning a grunt of support from Virgil. 

At intermission, Doc found his wife with Allie. Allie had the audacity to grin at Doc, blue eyes twinkling. “Doctor is in.” She giggled. 

And yes, normally Doc would have ate that up. Reveling in the limelight and delightful female attention. However, normally Doc was the unstable one and not his wife.  Still, he couldn’t help himself from saying a charming, “It seems my favorite patient is ill.” 

“I’m fine, Doc.” Y/N offered a grimace of a smile. Slowly standing, she took the fan from Allie. “Just got too hot all of a sudden.” 

Nodding, if only to avoid adding another public confrontation to the history of their relationship, Doc ordered a tonic water from the bar and escorted his wife back to their seats. Allie just chittering all the way. 

The final straw was down right offensive. Doc enjoyed few things more than waking up in the early hours of the morning when the sun was just beginning to think of rising and loving his wife. She was always so eager from a nights rest that she just folded into him. His lungs weren’t heavy from a full day allowing him to thrust and grunt for a glorious eternity. 

Yet, every morning that past week when he rolled over she was gone. He’d call out her name practically mewling with need only to be met with silence. Ignoring the hurt that struck his heart, he’d go back to bed. 

Finally, this morning was the last straw. He figured he’d stay awake, greet her entering their room. The longer he sat awake, pipe in hand, the wilder this thoughts went. Doc prided himself in a remarkably even temper but fear was ensnaring his rationality. 

A dose of opium sounded wonderful right about now. It would just calm his nerves, make it so he wouldn’t lash out. Last thing he wanted to do to his daisy was be mean. Lord knows he’s hurt her enough. He was sure he had a vial tucked away somewhere. 

By the time she entered their room, Doc was in tears. Red eyes narrowed into a glare at her. She gasped. “Doc, are you alright?” 

A rumbling cough worked its way out his lungs. “Daisy, I am rolling.” He hissed. Standing from his spot by the window, he grabbed his cane for balance. “Awful late night for you though.” 

“Are you high?” 

“I hardly see the need in answering that.” He snipped. “It’s quite obvious we both are up to things we shouldn’t be.” 

“Now, John, listen to me.”

“Is it to get back at me? Do you think my heart doesn’t hurt when you leave me?” 

“John, please just trust me.” her voice wobbled with tears. 

“I know I’ve not been the best husband to you-“

“You’ve been wonderful.” 

“Stop lying.” The opium only made his accent stronger. “Please just be honest with me, my soul can’t bare it any longer.” 

With a sad smile, Y/N crossed the floor to her husband. One hand tenderly held his cheek, wiping away at trailing tears. The other reached for his own, pressing a key into his palm. “Get dressed and follow me.” 

Confused, dazed, spellbound by his bride he dressed quickly. She held her arm out to him knowing his pride would much prefer her to stabilize him than his cane. “I’ve not been truthful and I am so very sorry for that Doc, but I hope you’ll forgive me.” 

They walked the dusty streets of Tombstone together. The early morning air left their lungs clear. Cactus clung to the early morning dew as the couple clung to each other. Near the edge of town, Y/N paused in front of a stately Greek Revival home. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” She asked nuzzling into his neck. 

“Yes, though it is difficult to find anything that compares to you darlin’.” 

With warm cheeks, Y/N giggled. “Try the key Doc.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Doc sputtered pulling away in shock. 

“Try the key.” 

A burst of speed had him rushing to the door. Rocking chairs lined the porch, tucked safely behind columns. The key slide in perfectly. Her name was all he could sigh, tears welling in his eyes again. 

Joining him, she nudged him forward. “I’ll give you the tour.” 

While still barren of furniture, the grand home had billowing curtains with long windows that ached of home. As Y/N rattled on about something to do with paint colors Doc waved a hand of dismissal not really caring how she wanted to paint. 

“How?” He managed to grunt,masking his emotion with a forced cough. 

“I was left an impressive about of money in a will.” A small smile tugged on her lips. “A great aunt everyone else hated. The only stipulation was to use it for my family.” 

A tug on his hand led up him the stately staircase. “I was thinking our bedroom could be here if-“ 

“I can handle them darlin’. Don’t you worry about me.” 

The next door was shut, Y/N’s eyes glittering with mischief. “This is your second surprise.” 

“Oh if this is one of those sinful European things-“Doc paused as the door opened revealing the only painted room in the house. 

gentle moss green walls greeted him. A canopy hung from the ceiling, the netting protecting a crib. “Daisy? Are you in a delicate way?” His green eyes flickered from her face to the perky bodice of her dress  to her tummy. 

A nod of her head confirmed. his heart nearly burst out his chest. A joyful laugh tickled out his throat. He didn’t give a damn what would be said about him now, his wife was carrying his baby. His. 

Nudging her nose against his, she leaned in to capture his lips pulling softly on the plump skin. Words weren’t needed as they removed each layer of clothing from each other. Fingers interlocked as they lay together on the soft mossy green rug below them. 

[artofkhaos404]

I watched Nightmare Before Christmas for the first time and thus have completed my emo training. It was super cute and not at all what I was expecting. Would watch again... which is a statement for me because I DESPISE claymation within the very depths of my soul.

Also, Jack Skellington being called "bone daddy" by a rando in the street will live forever in my head rent free.

[thlayli-ra]

OKAYYY i see your punknightintyre (i cannot spell.) post and i ask you. your opinions on la knight/roman reigns. i saw your art and lost my marbles but i wanna know your thoughts on it!! love your blog you are a Big Freak (meant positively) 🫶

Hooooooo boy! These two...

This isn't so much a conspiracy theory as it is a head cannon, one that's very much based in how I write them both in my fics.

So Knight is a loner. He's been on the roster for nearly two years and hasn't made a single friend or long-term ally. Because... he's a bit of a dick. He's brash, he's loud and he's self-centred. When he was being constantly attacked - and even abducted! - by Bray Wyatt/Uncle Howdy, not a single soul came to his aid. Past alliances have been short-lived (Rick Boogs), shaky truces (Randy Orton) or ended in disaster (AJ Styles). Even the other babyfaces just kinda... put up with him. I mean, look at his awkward arse at Wrestlemania 40 after Cody's win;

He deserves to be there because he was a player in the fight against The Bloodline, but he has no real ties to Cody. Maybe they each ran in for a save once, but that's really it. He sticks out like a sore thumb. (Hmmm, maybe that's why Punk is trying to get into his good graces. Punk likes loners, he likes to recruit them... but that's for another day.)

As for what Roman thinks about Knight?

As he says in my Winner's Room fic (which I really need to finish!);

"You've come a long way up the ladder in a very short period of time, I'll give you that. But don't let the dizzying heights get to your head. You don't belong here... you're not a main event player, hell, you aint even a midcarder. You're a bottom feeder! And now I've let you touch your toe onto the Island of Relevancy, I'mma throw you back into the depths of obscurity you came from."

To Roman, Knight is a pet, a plaything, a stray dog he can kick. He's something he can use and abuse without consequences. Nobody is going to run out and avenge Knight, because Knight has nobody! He's a free pass.

But he also gets right under Roman's skin!

To have this guy who came out of nowhere, who Roman considers so far beneath him he's barely worth his time, treat him with such blatant disrespect and embarrass him publicly is unforgivable. To make things worse, Knight is a human cockroach and no matter how badly he gets beaten down, he can not be defeated. There's a reason he has 'Defiant One' sewn onto his gear and he proves it, getting back up and getting back in Roman's face time and time again.

But it's more than that. Knight has something that Roman has always desperately wanted and yet never possessed?

The crowd!

Back in the Shield, Roman was arguably the least beloved of the three. As top babyface of the company, he was polarising, if not despised by the majority of the WWE Universe. The only way he could get them to love him was by becoming the villain they all imagined him to be.

So to see Knight inspire such devotion from the fans with a few cheesy catchphrases grates on him.

But deep down, if Roman was brave enough to admit it; he actually likes Knight. At least, as an opponent. He likes that they have no history, no prior relationship. There's nothing messy and Knight treats him no differently from any other man he's faced in the ring. Their feud is just about two wrestlers fighting for a shiny prize.

My latest artwork of them both features them in a 'winner's room' scenario after their Crown Jewel bout. Despite Knight being on the receiving end of a gruelling punishment, the scene has worn them both down. Roman is on his knees, as flushed and sweaty as his sub and smiling. Knight took his punishment well and allowed Roman to unleash his violent side and now he can be his true self. His gentler self that he can never be in front of the cameras, not when he's the Tribal Chief. Knight is in for the after-care of his life!

Because, at the end of the day, what does it matter if he shows his vulnerabilities to Knight? Not like he can go tell anybody?

Hmm..... Or maybe you're right Anon, and I am just a Big Freak! 🤣🤣🤣

[springonmytraptillicomeback]

dumping random info/headcannons abt FNAF characters while I work on their designs pt 2: Henry Emily

Basic info:

Name: Henry Joseph Emily

Birth: July 13, 1947

Height: 6’2

Again, not gonna go super in depth in his life, maybe another day

Henry was born and raised in Utah to a family of 3, consisting of; James Emily (father), Grace Emily (mother), Beatrice Emily (younger sister, middle child), and Charles Emily (younger brother, youngest child). His childhood was average and pretty normal, parents were a bit neglectful but other than that they were kind and occasionally loving. His family wasn’t super well off, but they were stable. His father was a car mechanic and the reason Henry first got into engineering. He’d spend hours just watching his father work. He was a pretty introverted and quiet kid, didn’t make friends easily, but was unbothered by that fact. His teachers loved him for being a quiet, respectful, and incredibly smart student while other students were either weirded out just a bit or intimidated. And that intimidation grows once he gets into highschool, he’s one of those kids who had a full beard by the time they were 16, plus he was 6’2 and in general pretty big. In 1965 he gets into Dixie Technical College (Again, like my last one, I think the name might’ve been changed to Utah Tech in around 2022, but I’m not sure) and meets William during his Sophomore year. They almost immediately click, which is a weird feeling for Henry, considering he’s usually not been close to many people. Fredbear’s Family Diner in 1972. He gets married to Susan in 1972 also, who he actually loves (and who William absolutely despises). In 1973 Susan passes during childbirth to Charlie, which leaves him in a pretty depressed state for a while, but he was able to heal a bit. After William and Claire’s Divorce, Henry and William just kinda helped each other with each other’s kids, like one big family, and not gay at all.

Random shit abt personality:

Henry is extremely stoic and cold when you first meet him, but turns into an extremely kind and warm person once you get to know him (he’s also like that around kids). He doesn’t even talk that much with people he knows, mostly a listener, but that ends up working out perfectly since he spends most of his time with William who will rant about anything he wants at any given opportunity. As much as he wouldn’t admit it, he’s a bit obsessive and overprotective. While he isn’t as charming or over the top as William is, he still really enjoyed preforming as Fredbear.

General random shit:

He finds William absolutely fascinating, because, at first, he met William and saw just some guy, kinda charming and a bit energetic but other than that pretty normal, but the closer they got (aka, the closer William pushed himself towards Henry), the more Henry started to learn about Will and notice that things were just… off. The way he acts when he’s in a situation he’s comfortable, the way he’ll just look at you as he processes something you say, the way he either never makes eye contact or stares into your soul, the way he seems to pick up on other’s personalities, the way he can ramble without a single stutter. While a lot of this stuff is William just being autistic, neither Henry or Will know that, so Henry thinks William is just weird and he finds that so fascinating and slightly endearing. He LOVES fishing, not more than engineering, but it comes close. His parents both have pretty thick southern accents, having previously lived in Texas. His accent isn’t very prominent, but shows through a lot more if he’s around others with southern accents. When Henry realized he was in love with William his mind immediately shot into homophobia territory, trying to “keep those thoughts down”, he ends up coming to terms to it at some point.

yaaayyyy we done

again, if u wanna ask shit or something abt him/anything u can, I’m still bored

[tarot-by-e11e]

Hello!!

Thank you so much for this game.

I hope my ask finds you thriving!

I'm S.R,

I'd love to participate in your inner demon game.

“which fictional creature has a semblance to me”:

There's this creature called "extra unknown" In a korean comic, which I think resonates with me. Because sometimes I can be too extra— lash out, yapping. And i feel unknown as to who I really am and towards the unoccurred future too, the creature was most of the times as shadowy/black figure, so do I feel about myself, although sometimes I want to get engulfed in the blackness too. (weird, I know..).

IF it's plausible, can you provide a gist if a negative soul or something is haunting me? Because I've been experiencing paranormal things, like an year or so ago, the photo I kept above the book it ended up inside the book beneath another photo. Night terrors, from which I'd woke up screaming terror, or recently when I was sleeping and felt a human-like hand grabbing my foot lightly and I jolted awake scared. Then I slep after that, only for a nightmare to come in which I stabbed my in-real-life-dead uncle, and I stabbed him till he got converted into black-slime-y like entity (my dream self thought in the dream "i'll kill my negativity like this" While stabbing) Thing is, my brain is so attuned when I'm sleeping, so, that's why I think it was not mere hallucination.

thank you so very much for your time and energy, truly.

(Previous) :

I despise Tumblr now that I know the tweaks of it almost made you cry..!!

Trust me, I'll gladly spoil for I feel honored to do so!

It's good to hear, and I'm proud of you. ^^

Do remember to take care of yourself whilst the chaos and beauty of life! ❣️❣️

Hi SR,

Thank you so much for participating in my Inner Demons ask game.

A manhwa, what's the title? Care to Share? For an extra unknown character, the fact that you've resonated to it in such depth seems to really have struck a cord in your heartstrings.

With your request, if I don't mention it here, I'll try to pull cards and DM you. Is that okay with you? However, based on your description, it's a cross between a monitoring spirit and a trickster energy. Have you ever tried cleansing your place thoroughly? There are tons of ways to do that, just search it up online. But you know, always used discernment, okay?

So the cards I pulled are: 8 of Swords, Ace of Wands, King of Coins

By any chance, have you always felt watched, restricted, and monitored on your every move? Like you were never free? Free to decide how you live your life? Were you never allowed to feel free to dream big or want more? Were you only ever allowed to choose between pre-selected choices in your studies or career by people of authority?

Or have you always been in an environment that barely survives day by day, and deems anything personal or exceeding necessities as wasteful, unnecessary, or selfish? Were you always expected to make a decision that has everyone else's needs in mind, but the moment you wanted something just for yourself, you were branded as this shameless, ungrateful brat who's wasteful and greedy? Were you always forced/expected to always give, to the point where you are left with nothing for yourself at the end of the day?

For starters, I would like to send my sincerest empathy and sincerity your way. You don't deserve to be deprived of your own free will and desires. I'm here to tell you, that it's okay to want, to desire, to dream for more. It's okay to be ambitious and work harder to have a better future.

It's absolutely okay to unapologetically put yourself first because my dear, you've given and they kept taking from you, till you have nothing left to call your own. You never deserve such unjust cruelty. I may not be there with you physically, but I do hope you know that I'd give you the biggest and warmest hug if I could. I'm so sorry you've gone through that. Danggg your reading is making me cry.

I'm here to tell you that Inner Demon is what I'd like to call "Best Kept Treasure". Now you might think why would your Inner Demon be called like that, when you've literally gone through the worst and still shocked that you've barely survived.

Let me ask you something, why do you were you so confined and restricted in the first place? What parts of you were the adults in your life trying to contain and control? What exactly are you capable of that they don't want anyone, especially you, to find out? And why won't they want you to know about yourself that you have yet to realise?

Sit with that for a bit... think it through... To give you a little hint: Think about the government. What happens when you let people who lack common sense and basic education vote? How do you expect them to make a wise decision? How do you think they would decide who to vote for?

Okay, have you noticed it already? People who don't know their own strength and power tend to fall prey to manipulative gaslighters. If people were more educated and well-informed, then the outcome drastically favor for the betterment of everyone's future.

Just like the example above, you have untapped potential that other people want. You have hidden strengths you have yet to acknowledge. You were simply and unfortunately taken advantage by those who planned to abuse your kindness and naivety.

If that's too political of an interpretation for you, think of having a vintage ring you've inherited from your grandmother being assessed and two different pawnshops. One is local pawnshop that just happen to open up a few months ago, while the other is a seasoned pawnshop that deals with rare and vintage artifacts.

When you go to the newly opened pawnshop, they might give you a handful of money by basing its worth by gram. Whereas if you go to the seasoned pawnshop, you'd be shocked to find out that the vintage ring was part of a limited edition released collection from your grandmother's native country, worth millions, can go higher, depending on the bidding price.

Two assessors, one became an assessor for the sake of making money, the other is backed by experience and decades worth of reliable knowledge of the industry. The one lacking knowledge and experiencing didn't know how to handle and see the worth of the ring. Whereas the experienced one knew the history, lore and origin of the ring, as they knew its worth and know how to handle it with care.

That's how people are with you.

People who don't know how to handle your worth will abuse you and misuse you. People who know your worth and get triggered and insecure as they compare themselves to you, will always make sure that you never realize how valuable and powerful you are capable. And then there are people who do know your worth and will treasure and honor you as you so rightfully deserve.

And what you want is a new beginning, a fresh start, something new that inspires you to do better and be better. Could be a new career change, relocation, vacation, or passion project. You are searching for a reason to get inspired and do and be more than what you currently are.

And how you go about this with your Inner Demon is realizing that the keys to your freedom are already in your hands. Your gilded cage was always open. You just need to learn to shift your perspective and witness that you've always had the power to change your fate from the very beginning.

In order to do that, you'll need to learn about yourself. Introspect, shadow work, go to therapy, journal it out. Do anything and everything to figure out what are you actually capable of, what you actually want from life, and what do you truly desire that's just yours.

Take the time and create a safe and judgement free environment where you allow yourself to feel safe to exist as you. Give yourself some grace as you learn more about what you want it life. Treat yourself with compassion like a child that's just learning to walk.

Never forget, the path and keys to your future have always been in your hands. You need only to learn how to use it to your advantage.

So let yourself be ambitious. Let yourself aspire and work hard for more. Dream more and dream big. Travel anywhere you want. Eat all the foods you've always wanted to try.

Don't just live to survive, live to feel alive.

This concludes the end of your reading. Do let me know how this resonates with you. Feel free to show some support via my Buy Me A Coffee here (This reading is for entertainment purposes only.)