#yes his left hand has peace instead of death

[guhroovi]

Idk what this is. I was just inspired by some sixties hippie music for some reason. And if I don't post this now, It'll just sit in my folders forever. Collecting dust

[butmakeitgayblog]

Hi yes hello help me I have a new fic idea for this picture

And it's giving me brainrot because I have too many wips and yet... I must write this ficlet. It's very soft. Friends to lovers.

Lexa owns a little holistic shop that always smells like incense and fresh herby plants. Fresh sprigs of flowers and dangley charms everywhere. Not quite "nature child/granola sister" vibes because it has too many sleek and modern details to it, but still very earthy and calming. Clean and fresh. It's tucked away in a sleepy little town along the coast that's just a short walk to a pier, so the fresh scent of the ocean's spray always mingles with all the perfumes of her shop.

Clarke moves there following the death of her father. Not running from anything, but more just trying to find herself in her new found peace. She's faced her own mortality and come out the other end understanding who she wants to be vs who she thought she should be. Exchanging her med school white coat for cable knit sweaters. Sneakers for deck shoes. Reading glasses for wayfarers.

Chaos for calm.

Which of course leads her right into Lexa's shop a few weeks into getting settled, deciding a new skin routine may be in order as well. Maybe a new lotion and a few handdipped candles to line her fancy new bath tub too, if the hand painted sign outside the shop is to be trusted.

Of course all chances at being the chill, solitary new girl in town who lives quietly and keeps to herself kind of fly right out the window when she hears the little ding of the bell overhead and looks up to see brilliant, soft green eyes already crinkled at the edges in a welcoming smile. Seeing all that sun kissed brown hair pulled back in a delicate crown of braids, the waterfall length of untamed curls falling over strong but slender shouders. Hearing that lyrical voice that's not at all chipper like she'd expect from someone peddling holistic wares. Instead it's soft and vibrant, more like too-warm honey that's been left out in the afternoon sun. Feminine but sure of itself as she merely bids a simple, "Hello, can I help you find anything in particular?"

All that chill is also nowhere to be seen when this freaking angel made of droplets of sunshine and chamomile takes it upon herself to squeeze a dollop of the lotion she'd been eyeing into Clarke's palm and start massaging it in with hands that are so fucking soft Clarke forgets how to breathe. Her intense eye contact as she gently explains the ingredients and why they're so good doesn't help either. Not that Clarke could be PAID to recite any of it, not having taken in a single damn syllable.

She could easily tell you the exact slope of the woman's eyelashes though. Could probably draw the freckle on her upper lip from memory too.

Of course Clarke would leave 2 bags and the shopowner's business card heavier, $70 lighter, and with absolutely no qualms about trading in at least part of her medical knowledge for giving this holistic stuff a try.

And that's it! That's all! Just a pretty girl who is maybe slightly nuts but beautiful and sweet who runs a little holistic beauty shop.

Nothing life altering or anything for Clarke, obviously.

Clarke being new and so in her head about everything and all the changes? It's just A Lot already on her plate. She doesn't have the space for anything else.

But... then there's just Lexa. So unassuming and mild and calming in her presence. Undemanding of Clarke's attention despite always seeming to have it. That slow fall into each other over too prolonged eye contact and friendly waves as Lexa glances at her through the arching windows of her shop, Clarke seeing those plump lips tug up into a grin that mouths an amused but unheard "Hi" as Clarke walks past for the third time that day.

Total coincidence.

But the friendship blooms just like the little plants and sprigs around Lexa's shop. Taking shape and growing as the season changes.

Passing glances and friendly waves turning to chance meetings and slipping away to sit on the bench at the end of the pier, splitting batches of seasoned fries and garlic aioli that Clarke has no idea where Lexa manages to put considering all her halter tops and sundresses that, whew, just leave not much to the imagination.

Walking through a local garden/woodsy path and talking aimlessly for hours as she watches Lexa collect little wildflowers and clovers along the way, stowing them in a satchel she keeps in her long flowy pants, only to drop by the shop the next afternoon and find that the tiny wood nymph-turned shopkeeper has braided her treasures from their outing into her hair that day.

Walks along the rocky beachside and lunches sat huddled together in the park. Lexa sharing how she got into her business and Clarke relaying her past in the medical world just to falter, only to breathe a sigh of relief at Lexa's lazy grin, "Don't worry, Dr. Griffin. I still believe in the power of penicillin."

Lexa showing Clarke where she makes her wares while standing far too close than what's necessary as she lets Clarke peruse everything. Always catching Clarke's gaze in her excitement at Lexa's creations, holding them with that soul-quieting smile of hers.

Clarke noticing how Lexa's scent changes slightly with the seasons because of course Lexa only works with fresh product. Noting how as the months get colder, she goes from airy, delicate lilac scents to heavier sage and sandlewood notes. Fresh pine, peppermint, and holly. Noticing how cute little painted toes trade in their freer sandles for more sensible uggs and the occasional snow boot, seeing how dresses and spaghetti straps get exchanged for cardigans and knitted sweaters big enough to juuust effortlessly slip off her shoulder...

(Still no bra)

(Not that she's... keeping track...)

Lexa is just so unexpected and so... not at all anything Clarke would've ever thought she'd be attracted to. Beyond just her stunning face that is, obviously. It's her personality. She's not someone Clarke can easily "put in a box". She's not quite a hippie, she's not exactly new agey, she's certainly not weak, but she's not overbearing. She's maybe a liiiittle bit nuts, but also so fuckin smart and not cocky about it at all. But absolutely is cocky about the silliest things, like being good at Scrabble and knowing how to fold a fitted sheet. (Again, liiiittle bit nuts.) She's kind, but not a pushover. Soft in ways Clarke can't even begin to fathom or calm her heart over, but so deceptively strong, both in body and spirit.

And she's quiet. Quiet and reserved in her perfectly Lexa way. Yet, when she does open up, there's so much there. So many layers to her, and every time Clarke thinks she's gotten to the bottom of the question mark that is "Lexa", there's a whole new labyrinth to uncover.

The connection between them expands and blooms and becomes something entirely its own. And it kind of just gradually dawns on her that Clarke has somehow managed to find her best friend in the entire world... and has promptly fallen in love with her.

Now.

If I wrote this obviously very short ficlet (😤), would anyone read it?

[hannie-dul-set]

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [3].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, talks about stalking, talks about death, data privacy violations, so much emotional whiplash yummy, a very long conversation, google dependent historical information. WORD COUNT. 6.3k.

NOTE. this chapter finally made its way out hell 😭😭😭 per usual, please let me know your thoughts on the chapter! a single comment on ao3 inspired me to finish this, so ur feedback really means a lot! enjoy<3

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 3 — can we go back to being parasocial?

IF SOMEONE HEARS YOUR SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS THAT UNFOLDED WITHIN THE PAST FEW DAYS, they may accuse you of lying. Delusional, even. You’d think the same had you not been the center of it all— yet the proof is in your pockets. Your phone. In the album Choi Yeonjun failed to sign, stuffed inside your bag at the last minute before you left your apartment earlier.

The summary. Right. Yes.

“Can they stop sharing that video of Yeonjun excessively flirting with a fan?! I’m going to kill myself if I see it one more time.”

You were lucky enough to nab a fansign slot. But instead of getting Choi Yeonjun’s signature, you ended up getting a kiss of a hand instead, along with a scrawl of numbers on your album that you’re far too terrified to try to dial.

“Hey, send me our photo with Soobin the other day,” nudges Huening from beside you. “I’m gonna print it out and put it in a locket and use it as a family heirloom.”

You bumped into one of your favorite actors, Choi Soobin, in the middle of a late night convenience store run with your friends to fuel your group all nighter, stained his shirt with your ice cream, and got a photo with him in the process.

“By the way, have you called the business card yet? What are you gonna do with your broken phone screen?”

And Choi Beomgyu may or may not have professed his undying love for you, asked for your hand in marriage, and started crying in front of you in less than ten fucking minutes.

“She’s zoned out.”

The problem is, you can’t even bask in the delightful absurdity of it all because one common thread from all those three separate instances has been keeping you up for nights. It’s clawing at your brain, lingering in the back of your mind like an incessant stalker— which, mind you, is not a pleasant feeling when the very causes of such disturbance were once the bringers of joy and all things good in your otherwise meaningless life as a cog in the capitalist machinery that is society.

“Hello? Are you awake?”

Said problem being the fact that you’re pretty sure they all called you by your name at one point.

How the fuck do they know your name?

“I deleted Twitter. I Airdropped it to you. No, I have not called it yet. Now please let me think in peace.”

Crazy. This is all too crazy. In the first place, what are the odds that you bump into three celebrities within one week’s time? Is this some sort of prank, or something? Are those three filming a hidden camera show together? No, no. That couldn’t be because there’s no fucking way a company is sane enough to stage a risky hidden camera prank during a fansign knowing full well how obsessive and insane fans can get. You’re lucky your face wasn’t caught in any of the videos circulating online— video of you and Choi Yeonjun, mostly him, acting out a fucking sageuk. You’re lucky you haven’t been doxxed yet.

“Finish your sandwich,” Taehyun clicks his tongue, nudging your food closer to you, and you sigh heavily. Maybe you’re just wrong, you think, taking a bite from the bread. Maybe this is just a misunderstanding. Maybe you’re just overthinking.

You eat your lunch and steal some wet wipes from Gaeul in between. Right. It’s not like you’re ever gonna bump into them again. You live in, as cliche as it sounds, two different worlds after all. You’re just gonna watch their dramas, listen to their music, enjoy their performances, and that’s it that’s it that’s it.

“Prof Jang sent a message. Class is canceled.”

But still—

“Woohoo! Let’s go to the new dessert shop that opened downtown.”

Choi Beomgyu’s voice saying I love you, Choi Soobin’s cologne wafting in the air you were breathing in, and Choi Yeonjun’s lips pressed against your skin.

How can a sane person just forget about all of that?!

“Why do you look like you’re fantasizing about perverted shit?” Woohyun slaps you in the face with a reality check. This is fucking stupid.

“I’m not fantasizing,” you grunt, because they were events that actually fucking happened— they weren’t birthed from your brain’s insanity. “Anyway, dessert? Where is it?” You ignore your burning face, hoping that your friends decide to ignore it too, but Gaeul has her eyes narrowed at you. Crap. She didn’t recognize that it’s you in the videos right? Holy fucking hell, you’d rather die.

“Aren’t you gonna answer that?”

Oh. Well. That’s— that’s something. A good something because she hasn’t suspected you yet, moitioning instead to your cracked phone that has been buzzing under your notice because you’ve been thinking way too fucking much.

You check the caller ID, but it’s an unknown number, and it doesn’t match the business card you got from your run in with the alleged Choi Beomgyu. “Hello?” you answer, and a voice you don’t recognize says your name and asks if it’s you. “Yes, this is her. Who’s this?”

Another item added to the weird as fuck things that happened to your this week. You excuse yourself from your friends, and with knitted brows, you listen to the stranger at the other end of the line. “You met Choi Soobin the other day at a 7-Eleven in Gangnam, right?” The fuck? Did someone see you that day? Is this a stalker? “This is his manager. Lee Byeongho. I would like to speak with you regarding a certain matter.”

Now, hold the fucking phone.

“Is everything alright?”

You respond to Huening’s concern with a stiff smile before turning away from them. “Did I do something wrong?” you fuss into the call. “I didn’t post any of the photos from that day. I never talked about it online either, and I’m pretty sure my friends haven’t either. Wait. Wait a minute. How did you get my number?”

“Yes, it was difficult to obtain knowing only your first name and university.” That doesn’t answer your question. That just gave you more questions. “But, no. You aren’t in trouble. Actually...I called because you’re the only one who can help us— help Soobin— get out of trouble.”

Your face scrunches up.

“I’m at your campus right now. Parking lot. Do you mind meeting me for a moment?”

Just what did you get yourself into?

“You haven’t finished your food. Where are you going?”

“Somewhere,” you reply, quickly snatching your half-eaten sandwich from the table as your friends follow your swift movements with matching looks of confusion. “I’ll be right back. It’s nothing, don’t worry.” However, you are quite worried. You’re pretty sure Lee Manager, or whatever, is committing some data privacy crimes against you, but the one thing you want at the moment is answers. Your brain is about to explode from all the fucking questions and confusion. There’s a sliver of hope that meeting up with this sketchy guy can answer a few of them. You’d take that chance to air out your head.

There’s a black van in the parking lot. It’s the first thing you noticed because one of its doors are open, and there’s a familiar looking guy waiting just in front of the exposed seats. 

He notices you approaching. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says. What’s with men you’re meeting for the first time treating you with familiarity? You’re going to rip your hair out and throw yourself into moving traffic.

“Sure, but can you get to the point?” you stiffly say. “I’m a little busy. I still have classes in a bit.”

“Of course, I’m sorry. This whole situation must’ve come off as a shock to you.” Great, now you’re feeling bad. Soobin’s manager (allegedly) looks like he’s been through a whole lot as well. “Anyway. You are a fan of Choi Soobin, correct?”

“Well,” you blink. “Yes.”

“How about the dramas Kang Jaehee has written and directed?” he follows up. “Are you a fan of those as well?”

Your brows furrow. “I guess?” Peach Tree. That Summer. Mogi. Those are the titles that come right at the top of your head. “What does that have to do anything with me?” Manager Lee spares you a look of pity. You feel like this meet-up is just set out to making you even more fucking confused.

“I sincerely apologize. I didn’t want to drag you into this either, but I’m afraid you’re the only option I have,” says Manager Lee despondently. “Since...since you are a fan of Soobin, and I assume that means you also care about his career, so—”

He pauses. Like he’s practicing the next set of words he’s about to say inside his head.

“—do you mind meeting up with him to convince him to take the lead role for Kang Jaehee’s upcoming drama?”

But nothing could’ve prepared you for that.

What.

What the fuck?

“Mr Manager. Sir,” you start, appalled beyond comprehension. “I’d appreciate it if you start making a bit more sense.” 

“Trust me, I can’t believe I’m doing this either.”

You’re speechless. Your mouth is hanging open with no words coming out because, again, what the fuck? Manager Lee looks just as defeated as you, as if he weren’t the one who had just presented that ridiculous proposal. You are, quite frankly, at a discernible loss. 

Manager Lee lets out a sigh and digs a hand into his pocket. “I’m afraid this is all the time I have today. But please contact me once you’ve made a decision.” Another business card acquired. This is just dandy. “I am really hoping for your cooperation, miss. I’m sure you’re aware of Soobin’s inactivity lately, and my intention of approaching you today is simply in order to help my star’s career. Please consider the favor positively, and we will compensate you as much as my authority can allow.”

With that, you’re left with another laminated piece of paper in your hands. Gosh. This is a headache. When you get back to your friends, they notice the distress you’re in, further justifying a visit to the new dessert store, and seeing how your soul has completely left your body, you’re dragged along with them with ease.

“Hey, pick one. My treat,” says Woohyun. You let out a grunt and point at a random pastry on display. Next thing you know, you’re seated in between Huening and Gaeul at the store you don’t even know the name of. 

Huening is force feeding you an eclair. “Eat.” Your scowl disappears when you allow the eclair entry into your mouth. “Seriously, what’s going on with you? Who did you meet earlier?” 

Seeing as you show absolutely no intentions of telling them, they refuse to question you about it further. Good on them, because there’s no way in hell you’re spilling your predicament. Not until you find out exactly what kind of situation you’re in, at the very least. The two business cards feel like they’re weighing your pockets down, a constant reminder of their existence along with the scrawl Yeonjun left behind.  

“I know exactly how to make you feel better.”

The declaration comes from Gaeul, who slides her phone over to you, and when you look down to see what exactly her miracle medicine is to make you feel less manic, you hack out a cough upon seeing Choi Yeonjun’s face on her phone screen. “The hell is wrong with you?” asks Taehyun from across, giving you some water to push down the eclair lodged in your throat. “I know you like him, but even that is an overreaction.”

Jesus, you’re close to losing it. When you’ve avoided choking to death, Gaeul puts an airpod into your ear, and you hear Yeonjun reading out some comments. “Choi Yeonjun, you look really happy lately, did something good happen? someone asked,” he says while having snacks of his own. “First of all, why are you calling me Choi Yeonjun? It’s like you’re putting a wall between us. I don’t like it.”

Gaeul makes a noise of some sort and had you not been subjected to this week’s insanities, you might have reacted the same way too. Instead, you simply listen to his live in caution, feigning disinterest as you watch him nibble on some pretzels and churros through the screen, continuing to answer the slew of questions in the comments.

“Anyway, you’re right! Something good did happen.” Yeonjun hums while picking out a pretzel from the paper bag, rustling noise and a lively tune filling the audio for a moment— a short moment, right before he continues speaking. “That’s because I finally met the love of my life.”

Taehyun has to give you his water again.

“Oh? Oho, what’s with the exclamation points?” he laughs. “Did I meet them the other day? Hmm...that’s a secret. You’re curious? You think it might be you? Well, let’s see. Should I describe her?”

“God, he’s so fucking messy,” says Gaeul from beside you. “This is why I like him. How many calls is he getting for his manager and company this time?”

“What’s going on? Why is she so startled?”

“Yeonjun’s talking about his apparent soulmate, I don’t know. Wanna listen?”

“Didn’t he get in trouble for doing the same thing last time too?”

Now, you’re not one to give a shit about his love life, and you like to stay out of that side of celebrity gossip as much as you can, but Choi Yeonjun himself is droning on about the love of his life right now. You can’t not hear about it even if you want to. However, as much as you want to let things come into one ear and out through the other, you can’t. Because— wait. Wait. His description is eerily familiar. His description is making you double take and second guess what you’re fucking hearing.

“Sounds a lot like you,” Taehyun remarks without much thought, right after Choi Yeonjun says that the girl he likes has a bit of an attitude, but he likes that about her.

Huening lets out a snort. “Yeah, that’s definitely you. Why don’t you go in a wedding dress the next time you attend a fansign? Who knows, you might have a shot.”

You snap them a dirty look. Fuck. This is making your head spin. For the second time, Choi Yeonjun’s tendency of putting himself into headlines and the trending searches for doing something insane is giving you nothing but stress.

“I did give her my number, but she hasn’t messaged me yet, so I’m quite hurt.”

Number. Hold on a fucking second.

“The comments are going crazy.”

You grab your bag from underneath you, dropping it down to your lap.

“Hey, if you’re watching this, pl—eeeeease contact me. Kim Noona thinks I have a phone addiction now because I’ve been dying waiting for your call.”

You quickly get up from your seat.

“Yo, where are you going this time?”

“I need a minute,” you announce, eyes scanning the store for a quiet place alone while hugging your bag to your chest. There’s nowhere. Looks like you have to get out. 

“Damn, we were just joking. As if you have a chance with a celebrity like him.”

Huening’s joke is ignored and you quickly leave outside the doors, making a sharp turn around the corner, slipping through the passersby downtown until you find an empty alley. Your heart is racing. Your heart is racing like crazy and you may be reaching right now. You may be acting crazy, but what Choi Beomgyu said during the interview with Yeong-Il the other day is echoing in your mind, and— in conjunction with everything else that had happened— you’re starting to think that maybe he wasn’t joking.

Your cracked phone screen greets you when you take it out of your pocket. On your other hand is the first business card you got this week.

“Who’s this?”

“Hello. Good day.” You tell them your name, the events that led up to you receiving this number, with the hope that maybe you’re finally on to something. “I’d like to talk about the compensation for my broken phone.”

Whatever that something is, you’re gonna get to the bottom of it.

*

It’s already beyond closing time at Kwiyeomdongmoim Cafe (a mouthful, you know), yet your pink apron is still neatly tied around your waist as you pace back and forth, to and fro, in circles inside the breakroom. The time is half-past nine in the evening. You should’ve clocked out thirty minutes ago, but you’re still waiting. 

The knock on the door signified the end of your wait. You turn to see your boss’s head popping in through the half-open crack. 

“Three guys are waiting for you,” informs Seokmin. “They all seem handsome. Are they your suitors?”

When you ditched your friends at the still unnamed dessert store the other day, you did it to make a few calls. Three, to be exact. Today is the culmination of those calls, which is why you’ve been erratically nervous the entire freaking day. Choi Soobin, Choi Beomyu, and Choi Yeonjun’s managers all answered respectively when you called all the sketchy numbers you got and made some negotiations (apparently, the mess on your album is Yeonjun’s number, but he got his phone confiscated after that livestream). 

“As if,” you say, walking up to the door leading back into the cafe. Suitors, more like stalkers. Fans stalking their idols is common, but the other way around is a pretty fresh idea. “Anyway, thanks, Kyeom. Thank you for letting me use the store for a while.” Because this is the only private place you can think of outside of your own home— and there’s no way in hell you’re letting them in there when you don’t even know how they managed to get hold of your personal information.

“We’re closed anyway.” Seokmin smiles and makes way for you to pass by. “Go ahead and do your thing. Do you want me to stay inside or keep watch?” 

“You can stay inside, it’s alright.” 

He nods. “Call me when you’re done. Scream if you need backup. I can handle all of them.”

You laugh and thank him once more, a pat on his arm before you decide to peek out the door first as a precautionary measure. From your spot, you can see three thoroughly covered men in windbreakers, caps, and masks sitting on three separate tables in the store. The blinds have already been rolled down, so you can’t see anything outside, but there doesn’t appear to be any cameras around, so you take it as a safe sign to finally leave your hiding spot.

The moment you do, the break room door creaks, and all three pairs of eyes immediately fall on you. 

They stand up. They call out your name in unison.

Holy shit.

And when they do, they all look at each other with a sudden flash of hostility in the air.

Um. Well. How are you supposed to do this? “H—hello,” you manage to squeak out, prompting their attention once more. Soobin takes off his cap and removes his mask, the other two following suit, and oh my god. Oh my god. You suck in a deep breath. Today, you are not a fan. You are an interrogator. This is not a fansign. This is an interrogation. 

“I— uh, I asked your managers if I can meet you all to—today for a specific reason.” Wow. Good job. Your hands are shaking and you can’t look up from the floor or else you’d start losing your mind. “But—but, before that— would...would you like some drinks…?”

Interrogation paused. You need to get your shit together first.

“Please enjoy.”

With the help of your boss (because your hands wouldn’t stop shaking and you dropped the first one you made), you managed to whip up four iced teas and settle all three of them into one table at the very back of the store. You send a stiff smile at Seokmin after he placed all the drinks on the table.

God, you owe him so much— especially when he’s being unreasonably glared at by the three men sitting with you right now. Choi Beomgyu to your left, Choi Soobin to your right, Choi Yeonjun directly across from you and holy fuck, you have yet to look at them properly yet for your own safety. They haven’t been talking to each other either, simply sitting and waiting for you to speak. You’re pretty sure they know each other though, at least by name, being in the same industry and all. 

To say that the tension in the air is suffocation would be an understatement. How...how do you start this? The fuck should you say first?

“You know, I was really happy when Kim Noona told me you called.”

Apparently you don’t have to start it. Choi Yeonjun does it for you.

“But why are these two crashing our date?”

And that’s when things also start to get messy.

“Date?” Choi Soobin interjects. He sounds offended. Why does he sound offended. “What are you talking about?”

Choi Yeonjun doesn’t get a chance to make his case. Because Choi Beomgyu from your left suddenly snatches one of your hands from the table, prompting you to look at one of them for the first time tonight, and your eyes fly wide open. “I’d...like to apologize for the other day. I was just overtaken by my emotions. I hope you weren’t too freaked out.”

You are quite freaked out because holy shit, this is too much maybe. Not maybe. Yes. This is too much. Too. Much.“Hey, why are you holding her hand?!” you hear Choi Soobin exclaim from your other side. Choi Beomgyu’s soft expression suddenly disappears into a glare and a sneer the moment he shifts his gaze.

“You’re holding her hand too!”

“Why can’t I?!”

“Hey, this isn’t fair! One of you switch with me—”

Dizzy. You’re feeling dizzy. Your head is spinning and you’re suffocating from the heat emanating from your very face. Whatever they’re arguing about isn’t even reaching your ears anymore. You’re getting lightheaded and your sweaty hands start slipping out from the two’s weirdly tender hold on your hands because your body is physically breaking down.

“Shut up! Oh my god, my head—”

Your vision actually starts spinning for a second so you quickly bring the bottom of your palms to your temples, elbows on the table to balance yourself, only to be wobbled and shaken because the three suddenly jolted off their seats in panic.

“Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine, just please—for the love of god— sit down and shut up.”

They sit down and shut up. You massage your temples in silence. You remove your hands from your face and, after sucking in a deep breath and releasing it thereafter, feel your heartbeat settling into a normal rate. As normal as it can get in this situation.

“Whew. Okay. I think I’m ready. Let’s get down to business.” Finally, you’re the one steering the conversation. You give each of them a once over as quickly as possible because now you know that prolonged eye contact will only hurt you. You settle with looking at the gaps between each of them. That’s fine. You’re fine. “Choi Soobin, Choi Yeonjun, Choi Beomgyu.”

It’s like three bulbs just lit up in succession. Your brain is starting to hurt.

“A—as I was saying, you three are some of South Korea’s biggest celebrities and although I am, in fact, a big fan of all three of you—” Why is Choi Soobin growing pink. Why the fuck is he blushing. “—that— that does not make me fail to recognize the amount of weird shit that’s been happening lately, and I think I need answers.”

They are still sitting down and shutting up. They listen to instructions well, at the very least.

“First, how the fuck did all three of you know my name without any prior introduction. Second—”

The words get clamped in your throat. It’s lodged in there very tightly because you make the mistake of looking one of them in the eye, only to notice that all three of them are looking at you with the same expression. An expression you can only describe as longing.

And your face starts burning.

“Se— second, why…why do you all keep looking at me like I’m an ex you want to get back together with…?”

Maybe you asked the wrong question.

Because for some reason they all look sad now. Really sad. Really fucking sad and it’s making your stomach clench and nerves all numb and funky because making three big celebrities all sad simultaneously is a bragging right at one end of the spectrum, and a national crime at the other.

It’s Choi Soobin who cracks the silence. “I…I had a feeling when I saw you again for the first time at the store.” Again? “Do you not remember me?”

Your face furrows. “No…? Did we ever meet before you became an actor?”

Hurt. The look of sadness has now spiraled into hurt and one might think you just stabbed and twisted a knife into his fucking gut.  “How—how about me?” Your attention turns to Choi Yeonjun who isn’t looking any better. It’s like his entire world view was just proven to be wrong and why does it feel like you’re the one to blame. 

What else can you do but shake your head in denial? Now he looks like he’d just been told he’s adopted!

“You’re…you’re joking,” he tries to laugh it off, but it only comes off as strained and shaky, then, in one fell swoop— desperate. “R—right…?”

“Great!”

Before you start feeling even shittier, Choi Beomgyu finally decides to join in. 

“And here I thought her forgetting about me was the worst case scenario.” His tone is bitter. There’s a snap in his words. “I didn’t think there’d be other bastards in the same situation as me. God fucking damn it.”

There’s a moment of silence. You watch as realization hits the other while you’re still left in the dark. Choi Yeonjun juts his seat closer. Choi Soobin tries to reach a hesitant arm to your direction, but you’re  tugged to the other side by Choi Beomgyu, who’s suddenly a little too, too close.

“Hey.”

Your hands are clamped together. 

“I meant it when I said I love you. I do. I have loved you four hundred years ago and I still love you now, and if whatever god or deity decides to make you meet you for the third time, I’ll still love you then.”

Beomgyu’s holding both of them in between his in a firm grip.

“Second life is about you. Blue Spring is about you. You’re the person I’ve been waiting for from the beginning of this life until the last.”

Now, if this situation wasn’t crazy, your heart would be skipping a beat right now.

But it is crazy. This is fucking insane. And you look around to see that there’s a weird look of sympathy and understanding in the other Choi’s eyes, clearly not recognizing the visceral insanity of this situation, which fills you with a swallowing lump of existential dread. You pry your hands out of Beomgyu’s grasp (you swear you can hear glass breaking), and slowly turn to Choi Yeonjun and say, with a very hesitant, very cautious, “Y...you too…?”

The look on his face says it all. And then you swivel over to Choi Soobin.

“And you?” 

“I’ve lo—”

“No!” you snap. “Don’t finish that sentence. Please. Oh my god.”

You see Seokmin popping his head out from the corner, mouthing an are you okay? and you shakily bring up a weak thumbs up. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” you hear Choi Yeonjun say, which feels like a slap in the face because what exactly is interesting about this. “Here I thought I was special.”

“Get off your high horse,” retorts Choi Soobin, a sneer in his voice. You double take. Choi Soobin is supposed to be sweet and gentle and kind. Who is this man? “Whatever kind of past you had with her doesn’t mean anything. I met her first. I met her at the end of King Danjong’s rule.”

“Ha!” Choi Yeonjun starts. “We got married under King Taejong. I’ve loved her before any of you did.”

Now, what the fuck?

Choi Soobin’s face pales and he chokes over his words. “M—married?”

There’s a smug grin on Choi Yeonjun’s face. He leans back against the chair with his arms crossed in victory. “You heard that correctly. Married. Pack up your bags. Unless you want me to tell you everything we did on our we—”

“Shut up, shut up, I don’t want to hear it!”

Marriage. King Danjong. King Taejong. Second life. The gears are churning inside your head. You don’t like the direction where the gears are pointing.

“What about you?”

Choi Yeonjun raises the question and the attention is now on Choi Beomgyu. He’s been quiet. The other two wait for him to say his piece— a feigned air of disdain and arrogance but there’s an unconcealable undertone of nervousness underneath it all. Your iced teas have been left untouched. Choi Beomgyu simply scoffs and presses his crossed arms against his chest.

“I have no reason to tell you any of that. This is between me and her.”

And at your mention, you receive the undivided attention of three pairs of eyes once more. Your heart rattles. God fucking damn it. Listen, you’re an avid consumer of the entertainment industry. You’ve watched a good amount of dramas and have read a good amount of manhwas to surmise a conclusion with the bits and pieces of stray information being tossed back and forth between the three. And it’s all ridiculous. But you have nothing else to work with unless they come spilling their guts themselves.

“So,” you clear your throat. “Are you three, like…a couple…hundred years old…?”

They all look offended. 

“No!”

Well, maybe you’re wrong about that part. But after a very long, convoluted discussion, the “facts” (if you can even call it that), are finally laid down on your feet.

They say you’ve all met before. Separately, in three separate lifetimes, with this one allegedly being your fourth unless there were lives in between that they can’t remember. One thing for certain is that the three of them remember the life they had while loving you— and they loved you very much apparently because those feelings and memories got carried over even after they got reborn into the present day.

The problem is, you don’t have the same symptoms. You don’t remember anything about your past lives. Hell, you can’t even remember anything in this life before you hit two years old. 

You slump in your seat. The table rattles. They get up from their chairs and come circling around you in concern.

“Are— are you okay, do you need to lie down? You could rest in my van for a while and—”

You swat Choi Yeonjun’s hand away before it could land on your shoulder. You’ve now got your hands on your face in stress, and peeking through you see Choi Soobin on your right, crouching down and looking up at you with furrowed brows and big, sad eyes. On your left is Choi Beomgyu, half-seated on the chair. You let out a very long, very anguished and muffled groan. This is too much. “If— if what you guys are saying is true,” you say. “What does it matter?”

There’s a tense pause in the air. 

“What do you mean…?”

You spring up from your seat and turn around, Choi Yeonjun in front of you. 

“I mean what does it all matter? King Sejeong, Joseon era, or whatever— I don’t care about all of that. We’re in the twenty-first century right now. I’m neither your lover nor your wife. I’m just a fan of your dramas and music and performances and that's it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t really want to see their faces right now. You let a huff of air slip past your lips, turning back around to collect the untouched glasses of drinks on the table.

“Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet me and explain. I hope it’s all settled. Thanks for clearing everything up today. You can now all leave.”

It’s Choi Yeonjun who races after you when you make your firm and quick strides to the counter. He cuts off your path. “I—I don’t understand,” he chokes out. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze and see the threat of tears glazing his eyes. “What—what do you mean?”

Admittedly, that hurled a giant pang against your ribcage, knocking the air out of your chest, but you move forward. You brush past him, setting the glasses back on the counter, and— after a moment’s pause— you turn around, a heavy weight on your shoulders. It’s like gravity is trying to suck you deep into the mantle. “What I’m trying to say is we should all just get over what happened all those hundreds of years ago and live our lives in the present. I mean, I don’t know any of you. Don’t you think it’s unhealthy to keep clinging onto the past, especially when you guys are nothing but strangers to me in this life?”

Dead silence. You don’t dare look at any of them in the face. You try and retreat to the break room as quickly as you can, hands fumbling to untie your apron along the way, but you stumble over your steps, screeching to a halt the moment you hear someone say—

“Do you think it’s that easy?”

You could hear your heart in your eardrums. 

It takes all the strength in your body for you to look back, to see the pained expression on Choi Beomgyu’s face standing the farthest away from you out of the three. “Do you think I put my name out there so that it’d be easier for you to find me, wrote all those songs about you in the hopes that I could see you again if you’re someone I can just easily forget?”

Your throat tightens. It’s like you’re swallowing a boulder.

“If you wanted me to forget about you, you shouldn’t have died right in front of me then. You shouldn’t have told me you loved me right before you went cold in my arms if you wanted me to fucking forget.”

Oh.

Oh, god.

Choi Yeonjun and Choi Soobin don’t look any better. It hits you that you might have been more than a little bit unfair.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t know your history. You don’t know what the fuck happened between you and them throughout those years that made them feel so strongly about you. But it must be harder for those who remember than for those who forgot.

It’s not like they chose to live in the present with half of their souls stuck in the past, either. You’ve been acting awfully unfair.

“I was being insensitive. I’m so sorry,” you exhale. Your knees feel like they’re about to buckle. Your head is spinning in circles. “But to be honest, this is all still very overwhelming, and I’m having a hard time comprehending and making sense of everything. It doesn’t feel real.” You try to take a step closer, but your legs give in. Choi Yeonjun quickly rushes to balance you back on your feet.

“Don’t push yourself,” he says, softly. You can’t look at him. God, these guys really know how to bring your guilt all the way home.

“Thanks, um, anyway—” You breathe in. Shit, you can’t believe you’re considering this. “Again, I really can’t and won’t be able to understand the magnitude of your— well, uh— feelings, since I really don’t remember anything. But how about…I spend some time with each of you individually, and maybe…maybe it can help in jogging back my memories?”

The atmosphere shifts. Ah. This feels like a fucking trap.

“You— you mean it?”

To be honest, you’d much rather just not deal with any of this, just stay at home and continue living your life with these three men as persons you only know behind the screen. But those looks in their eyes— hopeful and melancholic— make you feel your organs are being rearranged every five seconds, and you’d feel bad leaving them with the pain of this conversation especially after they poured out their hearts to you.

You can’t deny the joy and escape they’ve given you for the past couple of years you’ve spent as their fan. Maybe entertaining this unreality is the least you can do.

“I mean, well,” you start, clearing your throat. “Choi Beomgyu, you still need to pay for my phone. Choi Soobin, your manager wanted me to talk to you about something, and Choi Yeonjun—”

You look at the guy who still has one arm pressed against your back, two hands in a firm grip on your shoulders. He’s looking at you and batting his eyes expectantly. You let out a sigh and set yourself loose.

“I need to discuss something with you soon, too.” As in, please stop vaguely mentioning me in your live streams because I fear I might find an angry mob in front of my house. “I think I have all your contact information anyway.”

There aren’t any more reactions coming from them. This seems like the best possible solution for all of you. You sigh again. This has been an emotionally draining evening. You can’t wait to get some fucking rest.

“I’ll be in touch with you or your managers soon. For now, let’s call it a day.”

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Hey, I'm pretty sure that this was asked before, but I can't find the post.

What if MC died in the repository instead of professor Fig?

(I'm sorry, but I'm in an angsty mood)

I love your posts, and thanks

A/N: I do have vague recollection of answering a similar prompt once upon a time, but nothing wrong with a reprisal!

HLC REACT TO MC DYING IN THE REPOSITORY

WARNING: angst, death, grief

Dark ancient magic flew violently through the air around MC. The whirlwind of human agony consumed them as they released silver blue light from their wand. The magic thrashed and roared as MC expelled more and more effort to contain the chaos. Cracks started to form along the length of their wand.

Time slowed for them. MC could see Fig's silhouette just beyond the veil. The hundreds of young souls above them weighed heavy on their conscience. If they can't do this, everyone will die. They had to use all of it.

MC closed their eyes and whispered their goodbye. A light even brighter than the one from their wand emerged from their chest. The ancient magic within them burst forth with the fury of dragonfire. The silver light merged with the darkness, and as quickly as it had appeared, the magic vanished.

MC was gone. Their broken wand was all that remained.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He has officially lost everything. After losing his uncle, Anne, Ominis, and MC all at once, he's cracking. They can't be gone. Not them. They were too powerful to just vanish. He just has to find them. Yes. That's what he needs to do. He leaves Hogwarts. He MUST find them. Then Anne will see. Then Ominis will know. What he did was worth it.

OMINIS GAUNT: He rarely speaks anymore. The silence in his life has become so oppressive it took his own voice. The good life he thought he had was nice while it lasted, but now it's all come apart. It's only a matter of time before he loses Anne too, and when that happens...he doesn't know what he's going to do with himself.

ANNE SALLOW: She doesn't know how to feel about MC's death. On the one hand, they were trying to be a good friend to her and her brother but on the other...they also enabled Sebastian in his treachery. She's so very tired of the pain. She just wants to go to sleep.

IMELDA REYES: Well, damn. Mc was the closest thing to a friend she had in years. Someone competitive but friendly and fun to have around. They could dish out as much sass as she could, and she respected them for it. She cries a little at the end of year feast.

NATSAI ONAI: She should have been there. She could've done something! Why didn't they tell her!? She would've had their back! She....she...she breaks down into sobs so intense, even her mother can't comfort her. Her best friend was dead. Her heart was shattered and it would never be whole again without MC.

GARRETH WEASLEY: What? No. Nonono. Not them. That's impossible. They couldn't be dead. They're too strong to be.... He's in denial all the way until the MC's memorial service at the end of year feast. Then he breaks down. A bit of his fire died with MC.

LEANDER PREWETT: He wasn't super close to them, but he was still quite fond of them. They were a real friend. He hopes they're at peace and raises a goblet in their honor.

AMIT THAKKAR: He feels cold and numb all at once when he hears the news that MC died in the attack. He'd grown to care about them. He cursed himself for not spending more time with them when they were around.

EVERETT CLOPTON: He and MC didn't talk much outside of flying class but he had liked them. It was a shame he didn't get to know them more. He doesn't feel like eating when the feast is presented.

POPPY SWEETING: She hadn't cried this much since she left her parents. She finally made a friend, and just like that, they were gone. She doesn't know if she could make another friend again if she wanted to. Was she just doomed to lose every human connection she made?

ELEAZAR FIG: He wholeheartedly and inconsolably blames himself. Even if this fate couldn't be avoided, why did they have to die so young? He can't stand to hear the words "ancient" and "magic" in the same sentence at the same time anymore. It sends him into a dissociative trauma spiral.

He finds MC's wand. It's snapped in the middle with bits of wood frayed outward like the very core of the wand exploded. The two pieces are held together by the slightest sliver of wood.

He retires from teaching at Hogwarts. He doesn't trust himself with the care of students anymore. He doesn't trust his own judgment. He's tortured every night by the survivor's guilt taunting him that he should have done more. He should have protected them. He shouldn't have let them go as far as they did. They weren't ready. They couldn't handle the power they were forced to control. It takes everything in him to not attempt to destroy the map room with the portraits of the Keepers. He just leaves.

But every once in a while... On quiet moonless nights.... When he sees MC's wand displayed with Miriam's, he hears a whisper. A quiet breathy whisper that he could swear on his life sounds like MC. He chalks it up to the fact that he could be going mad from grief, but it's still strikes him as strange... If he looked at the wand hard enough... He could swear he sees a blue glow...

[seriiousgiirl]

𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖊.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭!𝓐𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻. ⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ❛ You lied to me! I did. You poisoned me! I did. You said you loved me! I do. ❜ After the death of your father, you are thrown into the bustling town of Baldur's Gate, leaving behind the peaceful country manor you called home. Eager for a taste of freedom, you slip away one night and find yourself rescued by the enigmatic Lord Ancunin. As you spend more time with him, you learn of his links with the mysterious Duke Szarr and his own secrets. As a result, you find yourself entangled in a web of deceit and betrayal. But as the truth unfolds, amid whispers of scandal and echoes of forgotten secrets, lies the key to your salvation - or your downfall. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱. ⊹ ₊ ݁. regency!au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, tension, mutual pining, angst, smut will happen later, age difference, forced marriage, gothic setting. Hello everyone! It's been a while since I've written for the public, but I hope it'll be OK. :) After binge watching Bridgerton and rewatching Crimson Peak, I thought an AU with Astarion would be perfect. Enjoy!!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The grand oak doors of Thornfield Manor creak open for what you know will be the last time. A gust of wind, carrying the chill of an early spring morning, sweeps through the entrance hall. You clutch your mother’s hand, seeking comfort in the warmth of her touch, though her face is a mask of composure, betraying no hint of the turmoil you know brews within her.

After all, Father's sudden passing has left you in a state of shock and uncertainty. 

The estate, with its sprawling gardens and serene countryside views, is now a mere memory, a chapter of your life that has been abruptly closed. With your elder brother away on military duty and the estate debts proving insurmountable, there was no choice but to seek refuge in the city.

And for that, your mother had plans, and the most important one was to find you a husband. If you were honest with yourself, you would have preferred that your mother had died instead, but that thought was forbidden. You knew that your father who had always shown you warmth and kindness, would have never wished for that kind of marriage for his beloved daughter—but he wasn’t here anymore to contest your mother’s decision. 

As the carriage rattled down the cobblestone path leading away from your beloved Thornfield, you cast one last, lingering glance at the manor. The ivy-clad walls seem to whisper farewells, and the distant hills, where you had spent countless afternoons in joyous exploration, stand as silent sentinels of a life left behind.

Your destination is Baldur's Gate, a bustling city known for its mercantile prowess and vibrant social scene. The city looms ahead, a stark contrast to the tranquility of your rural home. You had visited Baldur's Gate but once before, as a child, and the memory of its crowded streets and imposing architecture fills you with a mix of trepidation and reluctant curiosity.

Mother squeezes your hand, pulling you from your reverie. "We must be strong, Y/n," she says, her voice steady yet tinged with a sorrow that mirrors your own. "Baldur's Gate may not hold the peace of Thornfield, but it will offer us opportunities.” By ‘opportunities,’ you knew she meant a noble man to marry. And, you also knew that you had little or no say in who it’ll be.

“We shall endure this, together."

“Yes, mother.” You nodded, though your heart ached with the weight of your loss. 

The city, with its promise of new beginnings, felt both a blessing and a burden. What awaited you in the bustling streets of Baldur's Gate, however, you could not say…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had been a week since you arrived at your new house in the city, and to your surprise, integrating into high society wasn't as hard as you might have imagined. Your father had left a positive impact on his Thornfield wine business, which smoothed many social pathways. Your family name carried weight, opening doors that might have otherwise remained closed.

The house itself was grand, located in a prosperous district, with wide windows that overlooked bustling streets. From the confines of your room, you observed the city’s vibrant life. Baldur's Gate was a place of diversity and wonder. Elves with their ethereal grace, dwarves bustling about their trades, drows with their mysterious allure, and even Tieflings, with their exotic and often misunderstood appearances, filled the streets below. Yet, you experienced this only as a distant observer, confined by your mother's strict rules.

Your mother, with her cold demeanor, had forbidden you to venture outside until the wedding season began. "It wouldn't do for you to be seen mingling with common folk," she had said, her tone brooking no argument. 

The days were monotonous and long—very long, filled with preparations for the social season. You spent hours with dressmakers, trying on elaborate gowns, and with tutors, brushing up on etiquette and dance. 

Perhaps if your mother had been more aware of your need to see the outside world, you would have never found yourself in this situation. Late at night, as the city slumbered, you found yourself wandering the unfamiliar streets alone, without a chaperon or a maid to accompany you. 

It was a reckless act, one born out of a desperate longing for freedom.

You had always been like that, even in the peaceful countryside surrounding Thornfield Manor. An adventurous spirit, yearning to explore beyond the familiar boundaries of home, you often found solace in wandering the forests alone and in the dappled sunlight filtering through the tree.

But the city was a different beast altogether. 

The streets of Baldur's Gate took on a different character under the cloak of darkness. Shadows danced along the cobblestones, and the faint glow of lanterns cast eerie shapes against the walls of the surrounding buildings. It was dangerous, you knew, for a young woman of your standing to venture out unaccompanied. 

You told yourself it was curiosity that led you here, a desire to explore the streets that had been forbidden to you by day. But in truth, it was something deeper, a yearning for independence…

The city was a maze of winding alleys and hidden courtyards. You passed taverns alive with music and laughter, and dimly lit shops adorned with treasures from distant lands. The air was heavy with the scent of spices and sea salt. As you turned down a narrow alleyway, you caught sight of movement in the shadows ahead.

Instinctively, you froze, your heart pounding in your chest. 

A ragtag group of drunken men emerged from the shadows, their laughter loud and lewd. They were a motley crew indeed, their clothes stained, their faces red and flushed from excessive consumption. At their head stood a particularly large man, his arms bulging with muscle, a thick beard hiding the lower half of his face.

Their eyes raked over your body, appraising you in a way that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You could almost feel their filthy thoughts, a cold shiver snaking its way down your spine.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" the large man bellowed, his voice thick with drink.

"Hey there, sweetheart,"another one of them slurred, reaching out a hand to grab at your arm. "What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" The others chuckled, closing in around you, their foul breath making you recoil. 

Their hands reached for you, grasping and groping, their touch repulsive and unwanted. “No, let me go!” You tried to push them away, but they were relentless. You felt your heart sink, fear gripping you like a vice. Just as you thought all hope was lost, a shadow detached itself from the wall behind you, a tall figure emerging from the darkness.

His gaze was hard and unyielding as he surveyed the scene before him. His clothes were finely made, a stark contrast to the ragged group that surrounded you. He was handsome, his features sharp and angular, his eyes as red as ruby itself.

"Step aside, gentlemen," he said, his voice low and commanding.

The men snarled, but his demeanor was intimidating, and they reluctantly parted, allowing him to stand before you, his hands finding their place on your hips. "Are you alright, miss?" he asked, his concern dramatic but evident.

You nodded, swallowing hard, your heart still pounding in your chest. You could feel the heat of his body, the warmth of it a comforting contrast to the cold hand that had moments ago crept up your thigh.

"Thank you," you whispered, the words barely audible.

He offered you his arm, helping you to slip yours through it. "Let us take our leave from this place before further trouble arrives, it would be embarrassing for a lady like you to see more of this world of debauchery, wouldn't it?”

You nodded, grateful for his intervention and eager to put the unsettling encounter behind you. "Yes, please," you agreed, clinging to his arm as he guided you away from the shadows and back towards the safety of the main thoroughfare.

As you walked, he turned to you with a charming smile, his gaze warm and inquisitive. "Forgive me for prying, but are you new to the city?" he asked, his tone light with curiosity. "I feel certain I would have remembered such a pretty face."

You couldn't help but blush at the compliment, flustered by his attention. "Yes, we just arrived," you admitted, a hint of uncertainty in your voice. "We're staying in the...uh...West End district."

His smile widened, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ah, the West End," he remarked. "A fine choice. It's fortunate for you that our paths crossed tonight. Allow me to see you safely home."

You hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to trust this stranger, but the sincerity in his gaze reassured you. "Thank you," you said again, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. "I would appreciate that."

The walk through the quiet streets of Baldur's Gate was surprisingly calm, the tension from the alley fading with each step. As you strolled, the distinctive scent of his cologne filled the air—a mix of bergamot, brandy, and rosemary that was both intriguing and comforting. 

The gentleman beside you hummed a gentle tune, the melody soothing in the stillness of the night.

You found yourself relaxing in his presence, the fear and anxiety of earlier moments melting away. He maintained a respectful silence, his humming the only sound breaking the night's tranquility. As the familiar sight of your new home came into view, you felt a mixture of relief and disappointment—the walk had been unexpectedly pleasant.

Pausing at the gate of your residence, he turned to you with a concerned expression. "You should be more careful next time," he advised, his tone teasing but warm. He casually reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to gently wipe a smudge of dirt from your cheek. His touch was light, almost tender, and when he smiled, you thought you saw a flash of something unusual—were those fangs? You blinked, and the moment passed, leaving you to wonder if your imagination was playing tricks on you.

Then, with a gesture both casual and deliberate, he placed the handkerchief in your hand.

You felt the cool, smooth fabric of his glove brush against your skin as he pressed the handkerchief into your palm. The contact was brief, but the sensation of his fingers grazing yours sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. His touch was light yet lingering, creating a moment of intimate connection that left you breathless.

"You can keep it," he said, his voice soft but firm, the authority in his tone leaving no room for refusal.

"Thank you," you murmured, feeling a flush of embarrassment at the fuss he was making over you. Your fingers tightened around the handkerchief, the delicate fabric still warm from his touch. "For everything."

"It was my pleasure," he replied, his smile widening into a grin that was both charming and slightly unsettling. "I couldn't leave a lady in distress. Now, go inside and rest. The city can be a treacherous place after dark."

You nodded, grateful for his kindness despite the lingering mystery about him. As you turned to enter your home, you glanced back one last time. He stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the streetlamps, watching you with an unreadable expression. 

"I didn't catch your name," you said, your curiosity piqued despite the urgency to retreat indoors.

He merely smiled in response, a knowing glint in his eyes. "It won't be necessary," he replied cryptically.

With a final nod, you slipped inside, bolting the door behind you.

Safe within the familiar walls, you leaned against the door, your mind racing with the events of the night. 

Who was he?

❛ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ❜

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘, 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: nov. 2023 top supporter: @magical-warlock who's always a darling to work with. I had a little fun with this and made reader a banshee bc immortal lovers yk? 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Sebastian Michaelis x banshee! Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: possessiveness, jealousy, Grell bashing (sorry)

You watch from across the alley as the grim reaper drapes herself all over your demon lover. Your jaw grits and you can feel a frustrated scream bubbling up in the back of your throat. Time and time again, she’s pursued Sebastian, her voice hollering out that nickname Bassy just before she does as though coming with her very own warning system. But your darling demon lover is always quick to turn her down with his tongue as sharp and silver as the knives he fights with. 

But while you’ve been out accompanying your young Lord, she’s shown her face again. She claims it’s for work once again but you’re becoming less and less inclined to believe her: why always her and never another reaper? It seems too coincidental to your protective self. Unfortunately for you though, where reapers go, death springs forth and where death goes, you follow. That’s why you’re able to stay in the service of your young Lord with Sebastian at your side: the last of the Phantomhives does not lead a peaceful life. 

With another flip of her long red hair, Grell drapes herself over Sebsatian’s shoulder and you find your patience has run thin. You leave Ciel’s side for a moment, knowing the area is clear and he is more than safe with both his governess and butler present. You step towards the two and take Sebastian’s arm, wanting to make a show of propriety and possessiveness. You might be in an area sheltered from prying eyes but it’s a public space nonetheless and it’s improper for a lady to be all over a man as she is. 

“Sebastian, my love, we should return to the carriage now. Our work here is done and the young Lord should return home.”

“Of course, darling.” He makes a show of taking your gloved hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, shooting Grell a look from the corner of his crimson eyes. You can’t help the smug upturn the corner of your lips make. Sebastian returns your hand to the crook of your arm. 

“ ‘Darling’ ?!” Grell exclaims. For the sake of public decency, you’ve always kept your relationship with Sebastian a very private matter for the sake of your young master’s image in this human society and its countless social rules – but beings like you and Sebastian have no care for a holy marriage and see no reason to participate just to blend in when you could just stay reserved instead. Sebastian’s hand moves to the small of your back in order to draw you closer. 

“Why yes, my darling y/n.” He flashes a closed-eye smile, amused to see Grell’s utter shock and despair. 

“You-! You’d rather this… this… wailing-” 

“Watch your tongue, reaper.” You bite, eyes narrowing.

“A banshee! You’d rather have a banshee than me?! That screeching-?!”

“She does her job as you do yours.” Sebastian cuts in and leans down to press a kiss to your temple while you smile like the cat who got the cream. “You bring death and she alerts those of when it is impending.” You have to stifle your laughter at how Grell’s jaw drops and she’s left a stuttering mess. You cover your mouth with your free hand and allow Sebastian to lead the both of you back towards the waiting carriage and Ciel. You glance over your shoulder to flash a cheeky wave with your fingers as you set a hand on Sebastian’s bicep and give it a gentle squeeze as the two of you part so that he can open the door for Ciel, you following in behind him and sitting upon the bench opposite him, facing backwards. The door shuts the two of you inside and you spy Grell through the little window, seeming to be wrapped up in some despairing monologue of her own. It makes you giggle which catches Ciel’s attention. He raises a brow, the band of his eyepatch raising slightly with the movement. 

“I don’t appreciate the open displays of affection but it was certainly worth it to see that reaper in such a state.” He smirks as he uses his cane to tuck the window’s curtain aside just enough to watch the red-clad reaper in the midst of her meltdown.

The carriage jostles slightly as Sebastian gets up into the driver’s seat and the three of you begin your return to the Phantomhive manor. 

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

That evening, as you prepare yourself for bed, a set of cool hands smooth over your shoulders. 

“I never knew you to be so possessive, my darling~” His words drawl into your ear, breath fanning over your ear before he presses a warm kiss just below it. You let out a low hum of pleasure as you turn around to face him, reaching up to loop your arms loosely around his neck. You stretch up onto your toes to softly brush your lips against his.

“Demons aren’t the only creatures capable of being very protective of what's theirs~” You giggle quietly. His arms coil around your neck and he tugs you closer in a swift motion, pressing you flush to his chest. 

“Ah while that’s true, we are unrivalled~” He has a cheeky smirk on his lips as one of his hands rubs up and down the soft curve of your spine. He pulls you into a slow but passionate kiss, the two of you swaying on the spot as you try to close the non-existent distance between the two of you, wanting nothing more than to be one with each other in this moment. 

“What’s going to happen to us once you’ve eaten Ciel’s s-?” You’re cut off with yet another kiss as one of his hands cups the back of your head, fingertips soothingly massaging your scalp. 

“We’ll figure that out when the time comes~” He kisses your nose and looks down at you with lidded eyes. “My sweet banshee~”

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[readychilledwine]

Death of Peace of Mind - Part 1

Summary - We all believe Eris has a cabin hidden in the Autumn woods that he keeps his mate in, but what if she wasn't there willingly?

Warnings - technically kidnapping, sighs of setting in Stockholm Syndrome, technically signs of abuse/neglect towards a partner, inferred smut

A/N - this part is fairly mild, but the ending should tell you all what's coming. This is a pretty big time jump between this part and the little preview *link coming soon.* at this point our "unnamed" oc has been trapped in Eris's cabin for 7 months now

Ps- do we think Eris and Lucien need their own foxboy dividers? (I low-key do)

Part two

*6 months into her entrapment*

Eris had left his mate alone in his cabin for a  month now. Warding her within the 20 foot radius he gave her for exploration. 

It had taken time to tame her. More time than he had wanted it to, but he still knew it was what was best for her. 

He leaned back in his chair, listening to the advisor his father was allowing to drag on speak about how they need to tax the lesser fae harder. It wasn't a sentiment he argued with despite his face showing neutrality towards the idea of continuing to rob the poor and hungry, but he knew better than to start an argument.

An argument would mean he'd be there longer, or have to deal with his father's wrath and whatever punishment he felt fit. Being quiet meant getting back to his mate sooner. It meant seeing if his isolation plan had worked sooner. And when it did, it meant in a few more hours, he'd be buried inside of her. 

-

She knew he was coming home soon and tucked her legs into her chest. The silence had been welcomed. Wanted even if she was honest with herself. But she was lonely. He'd left her with one hound instead of the usual 3, and not even a hound who wanted to be with her.

She was confused by him. Her body begging and pleading to bend to his every wish and want, to be his, but er mind screaming to run, to fight. Her heart stood tore in the middle. She'd always wanted a mate, she just have never wanted this isolation.

She jumped as the door opened and familiar claws ran across the wood floor rushing to come greet her. She turned to pet little fluffy heads, one hound in each hand as he took off his jacket and shoes.

"You told me it'd only be a few days," her heart tightened. "You were gone for a month."

Eris quickly hid the tugging smile. "Did you miss me then?"

"No." Yes. She realized she had answered too quickly. His brow raised indicated he didn't believe her. And who could blame him when she didn't believe herself. "It just isn't something a proper mate would do." 

Eris felt his shoulders grow stiff, his head turned to the side slightly as if he were assessing her. "So a month of loneliness is all it took for you to acknowledge the bond? To acknowledge you are mine?"

She felt the weight of his questions hit her. That had been his plan all along, to force loneliness so deep it cut through her sanity. He moved to her, hands falling to her hips and gripping tightly. He was waiting for an answer. "Speak, fox." He said to her, "Tell me of your nights without my body and magic keeping the sheets warm, of how cold the cabin grew without me keeping the fires lit. Tell me how desperate you were for me. For my touch."

His gaze was serpentine. Staring her down as if she were no more than a wounded animal. "I didn't mean it that way," her voice was weak.

"You know better than to lie, little fox," one hand moved up her body. "Now greet me like a proper mate who missed her other half." She shook her head, refusing to give him that one carnal desire. Eris clicked his tongue. "Maybe I was mistaken in thinking you were ready for time apart. I thought we were past this." His hands on her hips grew tighter and warmer. She felt her lip tremble. "Do you need a reminder of who this body belongs to? Of who makes it sing?" His right hand moved up her body. "Not a single day went by where I did not miss and think of you. Of the good girl I left at home."

His words were a soft confession and opening. His Amber eyes met her doe ones. The offer shining brightly. If she gave him this one thing, he would be gentle with her tonight. "Well, little love," his hand tilted her face to his. "Will you give me a welcome home kiss?"

Her mind screamed for her to fight longer, to fight more. Her heart begged to cave to this new gentleness he was offering. Her body screamed for it as well. It screamed to be reunited with her mate, despite his isolation methods, despite his cruelty.

She caved, hands finding his chest, her soul, and heart, singing from finally having contact and socialization again. She began kissing him deeply despite the dimming protests in her mind.

-

Eris knew of her independence when he ripped her from her parents home. He had begun to use it as a reward against her.

If she behaved, he allowed her a taste of freedom, of what they would have when his father was gone. And last night had behaved beautifully. 

She had allowed him to take her, the way he truly wanted, with soft caresses and whispered words of adoration and worship. She had cried and begged for him as if he was her savior and salvation all in one. 

So today, he took her to Spring. Allowing her to explore the once destroyed but now flourishing market.

"Good girls get rewards," he had murmured into her naked skin as he took her again this morning. 

He didn't even notice her plotting. He only finally noticed when they had reached an area that was more lively than others and she was no longer at his side. 

But if she wanted a game of chase, if she wanted to ruin this beautiful day the two of them were having. He was more than happy to oblige and trap her back in that cabin until she understood one simple fact.

She wasn't going to go home. 

-

Her heart was racing as she pulled the scarf further over her hair and weaved between bodies. 

She didn't bother looking at anyone. Didn't return their joyful good mornings. She had to focus on her escape. On crossing that border into Autumn and getting home.

She quickly made it to that odd edge between courts, were bright green grass contrasted deep golden orange and burning red hues. 

She took off running when the bond warned her he was close. Her home was a 3 days journey by horseback from Spring. She had no clue if she'd make it there, or how long it could take, but this kiss of freedom was worth it.

She was near the cabin when nightfall came giving away to cold air. She was starving, exhausted, and her body felt as if she had been laying on hot pokers all day.

Every step to keep herself warm was tedious as her legs grew heavier. Every rustle of leaves had her on edge.

She stood at the small clearing, knowing a right would take her back to the cabin, to somewhere safe and warm. A left would take her towards the border of Winter. Continuing straight would take her home. 

She knew these woods weren't safe. That she was not safe. I was safe in the cabin, her mind whispered. He may be cruel, but I was always safe.

-

Eris watched her from up in the trees unknown to her. He had found her hours ago with the 9 hounds that were also stalking her like prey. 

One of them paused, ears folding back and his body going low to the ground as he growled. Eris smelled the beast before he heard it or saw in. He gave the signal for his hounds to hold and waited, a bow and arrow notched. 

Soulless black eyes stared at his mate, long claws emerged from its hands as it stalked around her and she stood there frozen in fear. "The dark mother has brought me a blessing," the creature hissed to her. "A treat wandering into the forest all by herself." 

Eris kept his arrow lined and true with the beast but never released it. The hounds were growing restless, itching to destroy the monster, threatening the female they considered their mother. She didn't even move as it raised a clawed hand to brush her cheek, only whimpered out of fear. "Your screams will be delicious." 

It's other clawed hand raised and Eris took the opening, shooting the beast in the ribs and heart before it could harm his little mate and giving the hounds the signal to attack.

He jumped down, and she looked at him, eyes welled with tears before running into his arms.

"I'm sorry," she kept whispering. "I'm so sorry. Take me home. Please. Please don't make me stay out here." 

Eris put her at an arm's length, faking a look of indifference. "I offered you my love, my safety, my protection. I gave you a treat for your good behavior, and you repay me by running away?" Her lips trembled as her tears fell faster. "You truly expect me to take you back to the cabin you seem to hate so much?" He whistled for his hounds, signaling them to stop the attack and head home. "Why shouldn't I leave you in these woods, alone and cold?"

Her body shook with sobs. "Eris please. I'm so scared."

"And you could have been home safe. If you would have played your part, had you been a good little mate. A night out here would be the consequences of your own actions." 

A whimper ripped through her. "I'll give you anything, please. Please take me back."

Eris cocked his head at her, "Anything?" He purred in delight. Holding his hand out. "If I bring you home, you never run again, you will serve me a meal, and you will move into my chambers when I place as high lord with no further arguments."

It was a slap in the face. Her mind was reeling instantly, pleading with her to just leave. To turn towards winter, to turn towards anywhere and leave. "You can shake my hand and seal the bargain, or you can stay in these woods. Cold, afraid, and alone. Thousands of females would slaughter each other with no hesitation for your spot at my side."

The mating bond growled in possession inside of her, her heart shattered at the idea of him with someone else. Her body moved on its own choice, her hand slowly raising and holding his. 

Eris growled in satisfaction. "I expect my dinner tomorrow night, little fox." He picked her up, warming her freezing body with his own as he walked to the cabin. "Let's get you inside and safe."

-

He tucked her naked body into the bed. Warming the sheets to fight the chill that had sunk into her bones. She was covered in evidence of his love for her. He grinned with male satisfaction before moving to the living room and checking over the 9 sleeping hounds who had been treated to her love and treats. 

He walked out of the door, whistling three times for the last three to come in. They jogged to the door happily, little scraps of her clothing still attached to their collars. He took the clothing off of them, throwing it into the hearth where the rest of the dress had burned early, and he patted them each gently.

"Good hounds," he spoke softly. "You lead it straight to her."

[anika-ann]

Ochranuj me (Protect Me) - S.R. - part 1/2

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; a part of this pseudomedieval-fantasy AU

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 8,6k

Summary:  Your practice of magic is punishable by death. Your love is forbidden by law; and yet it has been blessed, more than he knows.

When the crown prince is poisoned, Knight Steven Rogers is faced with a choice: will he risk a war or the love of his life?

And what of you? If asked… shall you risk it all? For the lands where you live… for your knight?

Warnings: attempted murder, poisoning, blood, mentions of death, polytheism, mentions of pregnancy (reader/OFC), Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Actual title is Ochraňuj mě (Protect Me) ...tumblr cannot handle a ň in their title 🙃 DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; fits after the events of the previous instalments

A/N 2: This is one less smut and more plot, forgive me 🤭 I hope you'll enjoy anyway. Yes, the Merlin inspo is real here. Inspo also from Bílá laň by Vesna. For music, check it out here, for visuals here.

Chodila, chodila za tebou bílá laň lásky se napila navzdory všem přísahám. Prosila pány lesa ať ji pustí za tebou zažít si, jaké to je jít za srdce ozvěnou.

Tady je tvůj háj, tady je tvůj ráj, jinam nepatříš. Jako bílá laň svoji duši chraň, ať záři neztratíš.

Tady je tvůj háj, tady je tvůj ráj, jinam nepatříš. Tak ať nepotká tě kříž. (kříž, kříž, kříž) - Bílá laň by Vesna

Boisterous laugh. Wine poured in gallons painting cheeks nearly just as ruddy as the warmth of the torches illuminating the high halls of the Starkerbürg castle painted the walls. Rich aroma of butter, oils, meats and spices flowing in the air, clinking of the most precious silverware and a distant sound of flutes as the musicians tasked to raise the already high spirits could be barely heard over the noise of the feast.

Under the watchful eye of the gods or the only God it was now believed there was, a celebration of peace was raving, everything but peaceful and serene; loud and overwhelming instead, a whirlwind of emerald green threaded with gold welcomed by the steady colours of rich crimson and gold. An anniversary of the peace made between the kingdom of Asgard and Starkerbürg, a party led by Thor Odinson, the king of the lands, honouring the deal his late father King Odin had made right before his passing.

The high table with King Howard sitting at the centre, his son Anthony, the crown prince, by his right, along with the woman he was courting, Pepper of the Potts; on her right, King Howard’s daughter, Princess Morgana. On the king’s left, the guests of honour; King Thor, his wife Queen Jane, and his brother Prince Loki. Knights and warriors of the highest ranks, lords and ladies of nobility joining the celebrations, servants all but running around the hall to tend to everyone’s needs.

Then, a sound of a chalice hitting the stone floor, one that would have been met with more laughter, had it not fallen from Prince Anthony’s hand, suddenly scarily pale and trembling. Cold to touch too, a terrifying contrast to his burning forehead glistening with sweat. Body sliding down the chair, barely even faint frantic motions to his chest.

Brief, deafening silence.

The traitorous calm before a storm would hit and leave nothing but death and destruction in its wake.

Chaos.

Swords drawn.

A wave of threats of violence.

A thundering voice of the King of Starkerbürg himself.

Calls for the royal physician Banner.

Images of peace and joy shattered; a single inconspicuous calm face among the sea of others in the face of a tragedy in making.

“Poison. I cannot determine what kind as of yet. Carry His Royal Majesty to his chambers!” the physician called out, not bothered by the fact he was ordering around knights and other nobility. “At once! There is no time to spare!”

Knights practically tripping over each other to tend to their prince, to their future ruler, to their brother in arms even as by rank he stood high above them. Rustle and grunts; a whisper of skirts as the culprit slipped away in the midst of disarray and cries of fear for the prince and the future of both kingdoms alike.

To think that an attack at the crown happening during the presence of a party of another kingdom – one similarly strong – was but a coincidence, would have been foolishly naïve.

Oh there were no such coincidences; this was but the first step towards a war.

And the perpetrator would be treated with that in mind.

“Aconite, most likely,” sounded the verdict, the words solemn on the physician’s lips as he fearfully raised his gaze to the King hovering over his shoulder as he inspected the second most important patient of the kingdom at the royal chambers.

The dark note in Banner’s voice snapped Steven from the haze as he, Sir Barnes, Sir Barton and Sir Wilson stood along the walls of Anthony’s chambers, tall and menacing, but just as helpless as Prince Anthony’s betrothed seated in the corner.

Whatever poison the physician was talking about, it was not known to Steven; but the message written in Banner’s expression was clear as day and terrifying like a night to be spent in the woods with rumoured presence of ghouls.

Inevitable death.

It was true that King Howard Stark might have yet to comprehend, despite his long years of ruling his lands, that one might catch more flies with sugar than vinegar, gain more by threading his actions with kindness than by spitting threats of violence; but he was no fool. He perceived the solemnity of the announcement and received it with a shadow over his already distorted features.

“This… aconite, Banner. What kind of a poison is that?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest, but not bending. Not under the weight on the crown on his head, nor under the weight of the tidings he might be scared to receive. His face was but a mask of stern indifference; a silent warning to Banner to choose his next words carefully.

As if stating the patient’s condition was a choice, Steven thought darkly, his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage as he exchanged glances with his best friend standing by his side. When he looked back at the physician, he could see him swallow dryly even from the several feet distance. Yet, the brave man faced the King with his head held high and his expression filled with sorrow.

“A deadly kind, Your Royal Majesty,” Banner said slowly. Rage flashed on the King’s face, Steven’s stomach dropping at both the sight and the worst tidings brought. Death. “It is made from the nectar-filled blossoms or the tubers of the Aconitum lycoctonum flower. There is… no cure known to man.”

A sniffle sounded in the corner of the room, completely ignored except for Sir Barton’s compassionate glance towards the woman who was on the brink of despair at the mere thought of the man she had clearly already learned to love leaving this world forever.

The King beckoned to the guards standing by the door, making them instantly step forward with their spears ready, heading for Banner menacingly.

Steven’s feet twitched as he wanted to step forward to protect the physician, outrage rising at the injustice even as fear twisted his stomach.

Sir Barnes brushed his hand discreetly to stop him.

Steven gritted his teeth, but stayed put for now, watching the scene unfold with disdain.

Sir Barnes was correct in one thing: Anthony being poisoned and having his life hanging on a thread was horrible enough, and rash decisions and actions such as standing up to the King would only make it worse.

A raging man was an unwise man; and the King was only a man too, even as he compared himself to various deities and had nearly as much power as them – which only rendered him more dangerous. There was no point in scaring the physician to death or even hurting him, but such was the King’s power. Such was his God-given right to punish whoever as he pleased. It mattered little that Banner could barely be blamed for-

-for the crown prince’s impending death, apparently.

“Then I advise you, Banner, to find one fast,” King Howard sneered as the guards stood behind the physician now. “Otherwise, you shall meet the same fate as whoever of Asgard dared to try and rob me of my son.”

The guards grabbed the man’s shoulders and Steven’s hand instinctively went for his sword again; and he was not the only one. Still, the knights stood, hesitant to disobey their King even in the face of the glaring injustice, fighting an inner battle between honour and goodness of heart and the oath they had taken. Their loyalty was to the kingdom and the King represented it most of all, after all; even if he seemed to threaten it the most of all, too, at the moment.

Well, not on Steven’s watch.

“Wait!” he called out as he stepped forward, earning a hard glare from the King himself that should have told him to keep quiet and fall in line, but he could not. Not even for Bucky’s audible sigh behind him. Not when-

“Is there anything we can do for him as of now, is what we are trying to ask,” Sir Wilson spoke up before Steven could, moving to stand next to him.

Steven took a deep breath as his gaze flickered to his comrade, finding his face arranged in a carefully crafted humbleness – as it should be in the face of the ruler even when he was addressing the physician.

Banner’s words were kind, his voice firm and regretful.

“I am afraid there isn’t, good Sir.”

“The Royal Guard and all the knights have a clear mission given by the crown, Sir Wilson,” the King barked as he gestured for the physician to be dragged away, the poor man allowing it without a protest. King Howard’s gaze fell on his son’s pale face as he lied on the bed with nothing but soundless whimpers on his lips, before he snapped back to the four knights present. “Arrest all servants and nobility of Asgard. I shall have the King and his brother for myself. And should my son meet his forefathers, I shall have their heads on a spike by tomorrow.”

With those words, he turned on his heel and stepped out, his leave abruptly followed by Anthony’s wife-to-be rushing to her betrothed’s side, cheeks damp with tears.

Steven regarded the scene unfolding, frozen with horror and unease greater than anyone.

He feared the death of his friend, naturally, as they had just dragged the one single person with any chance of curing Anthony in the whole kingdom away from his bedside.

But Steven feared a lot more deaths too. Should Prince Anthony die, King Howard would unleash pure hell on Asgard and as a consequence, on all Starkerbürg as well.

All the knights knew that; everyone knew that. They all had a heavy feeling in their stomach at the mere thought, their feet slow and unwilling as they left the chambers one by one. Yet, Steven’s heart was heavier.

The thought had occurred to him when he had wondered what exactly the King was expecting from Banner.

To turn back time so the prince had never got poisoned?

To pray to the gods for a miracle?

To perform a miracle himself and cure what was considered uncurable?

The last idea had squeezed his heart in an icy fist, nausea clawing up his throat.

He knew someone who could achieve things as close to a miracle as possible in this realm. He had felt such miracle in his own blood, tissue and cells; he had felt the wonders strong magic was capable of when in the hands of the kind-hearted. He was still breathing solely because of it; and he knew the person who could achieve this closely, intimately even, mind, body and soul, the depth of the goodness of her heart.

Perhaps you would be able to replicate the feat of saving Steven from certain death.

Perhaps your magic was powerful enough to save thousands lives by saving one. Powerful enough to prevent a war.

But hope and miracles were not to be trifled with. Magic was not to be trifled with. Being seen practising magic meant a definite death sentence.

But would it? If it saved the future king’s life?

Surely, he couldn’t risk it; he couldn’t risk your life. Of all the things he had seen in his life, of all the things he had ever had the fortune to hold, you were the most precious one to him. If he brought you here, he could lose you. He could lose you, by his own hand no less, and that would be the highest price to pay for peace he did not even know would settle or not in the end.

No.

That was the one price he couldn’t pay. He’d much rather pay with his own life – but not yours. Gods, never yours.

But if you only could… knew a potion, could do anything at all…

As he marched with his comrades to arrest the innocent – for it could not be the work of all Asgardians at once – his jaw was tense, the dilemma occupying all his thoughts, feeling like it might tear him in half.

Until it hadn’t.

If he did nothing, the war was be inevitable. If he did nothing, he would lose you anyway.

A raging man was a dangerous man and King Stark would burn the world in the wake of his anger and grief, heedless of whoever would burn with it.

Steven stopped dead in his tracks, Sir Barnes nearly colliding with him as a result.

“Steve, what the-“

“I must go,” Steven said in a hushed voice, swiftly changing direction; or attempting to. Sir Barnes’ hand was quick to grab onto his elbow, stopping him, heedless of other knights continuing their path.

“Steve, what in heavens do you mean by that?”

“I must fetch someone. I believe she could help.”

Sir Barnes bewilderment would perhaps be almost comical had it not been for the dread pooling cold in Steven’s gut.

“…she? What—the woman you have been sneaking off to see?” Sir Barnes enquired, causing a startled and utterly confused expression to appear on Steven’s face, a small alarmed sound pushing past the man’s lips despite his effort to remain composed.

Hold on, hold on-- Bucky knew?!

The look Steven received back was unimpressed at best – of course Bucky knew. He knew Steven almost better than he knew himself.

“Save the surprise for another day. How could she possibly help? Is she a physician’s assistant? Or even an apprentice for some insane reason?”

Had Steve had the capacity, he’d glare at Bucky for the offensive tone with which he had asked the question; however, he did not have it and in the brief moment he spent pondering, he realized that Bucky was not opposed to the idea itself. It was simply the ways of Starkerbürg: to try and take a woman as a physician’s apprentice was insane indeed. King had the God-given right to appoint physicians – and King Howard would certainly never approve of a female one.

But that didn’t matter, because that was not who you were.

“She’s… she is a healer.”

“A healer?” Sir Barnes echoed pointedly, doubt colouring his words. “What does than even mean? We do not have time for this.”

Steven huffed, trying to tug his arm free from Sir Barnes’ grasp as his impatience grew along with the number of doubts whether it was ever a good idea to consider your aid; but there were no options. No time to search for them. No time to waste and no time for finesse. He needed to go and he needed Bucky to understand – and more than that.

“She saved my life, Bucky. Back when I fell from the crags into the river… when you thought I was dead-“

“You must have been lucky, fell into deep water. You had superficial injuries. This is a poison. One the best physician of the court claims to have no antidote for.”

Steven swallowed thickly, the heaviest of feelings in his stomach as he chose to reveal his greatest secret as to make a point and be released to act before it’d be too late. “Bucky, I had much more than superficial injuries. She… she helped then. She might be able to help now, but… I will need your help with protecting her should it come to it.”

Bucky looked at Steve as if he had just grown a second head, glancing around nervously as guards and knights alike kept passing them, casting strange looks at them for their stillness. Sir Barnes lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper.

“Are you saying you were wounded much worse and yet she was able to tend to you? In such short time that you were missing then? And that she might be able to help here, now, with a poison that has no known cure?” Sir Barnes demanded hastily, bewildered and clearly irritated. “Are you hearing yourself, Steven? What kind of a healer would she have to be to-“

The almost sardonic voice suddenly fell silent, all blood draining from Sir Barnes’ face when the horrifying realization finally dawned to him. His hand fell limp, finally releasing Steven’s arm.

“Steve, this is not a subject for joking.”

Steven swallowed heavily, heart thundering in his chest, blood pounding in his temples. He shouldn’t have told – but he had to. He had to, right? Bucky needed to understand-

He sighed quietly, whole body strung tight in expectation of his friend exploding in rage – rage he had no time for.

“I am not joking. And you are right, we are losing precious time, I should-”

The sudden grip on Steven’s his shoulder, appearing as to stop him from leaving, was much more brutal than the hold on his elbow had been, fingers digging into flesh even over the layers of clothing.

“You— have you been… lying with a--”

Steven’s voice was quiet, but as sharp and dangerous as the sword resting in the sheath on his hip. “Choose your words carefully, Bucky. That is the woman I love and owe my life to. I would die for her, and I would not have been standing here had she not healed me.”

“That could be exactly what she wants you to think!” Sir Barnes sputtered. Steven fought the urge to roll his eyes – the absurdity of such statement was glaring.

“Oh for heavens-- I might be a fool sometimes, but I am not an idiot-”

“Debatable!” Sir Barnes whispered as madly as if he was in fact yelling. “As you’re proving it this very moment!”

Steven shook his head, the feeling in his gut growing more gnawing by the second, every frantic beat of his heart feeling like a waste of precious time.

“Bucky, you said it yourself – we do not have time for this! I must go. I will get her, but… please. Help me protect her if the King is blind to the fact she uses--- it to do good.”

Sir Barnes simply stared back, the halls empty by now as much as his gaze, however inquiring.

The grip on Sir Rogers’ arm loosened.

Silence stretched. Precious second ticked by, grains of sand in hourglass no one could turn back falling; and with each and every one, Steve’s stomach tightened further with creeping horror.

Surely his most precious, most loyal friend, having been standing by his side since childhood, would not abandon him now? Surely he would not betray him in moments that might be deciding his fate, the fate of his beloved, of the whole kingdom?

“Bucky, please. I swear-- I’m begging you. I need to-- I need to protect her. At any cost.”

“What of your sword?” Sir Barnes asked dully, appearing indifferent to Steven’s desperate pleas.

What of your knighthood? Are you willing to give up that, if you are forced to leave in the darkness of the night and never return to bring your beloved to safety? Are you willing to leave the path of the honorary knight to become a lawless fugitive?

The smile which found its way to the corners of Steve’s lips was soft; sad and torn, for it was the greatest honour to serve, to protect, to help. He had been and always would be grateful for the rare chance he had got.

But there was no greater blessing of the gods themselves than you having entered his life and taking it by the most beautiful of storms. He loved you. He loved you more than anything and anyone in this world and that was what he would not even dream of giving up.

He didn’t respond with words; and yet, the exasperation on his closest friend’s face told him he did not have to. Sir Barnes understood from Steven’s expression alone. He always had.

“Gods, Steven Grant of Rogers, of all stunts you could have pulled to get yourself hanged, you truly had to go and chose the most foolish one. My God- Steven…”

Most foolish one? Echoed in Steven’s head, the words absurd. No. The most gorgeous one, the purest one, the most blessed, he allowed himself to muse. The most honourable one too, no? Love. Where was justice, if love, the purest emotions of all, was considered a crime? Did the new religious teachings not speak of love being kind, patient, knowing no dishonour and wrongs?

That was how he loved you. Wholly and entirely, kindly, patiently, even if passionately.

It was only then when Steven snapped from his haze and finally noticed a trace of hurt on Sir Barnes’ face when it occurred to him why Bucky had taken so long to respond. He was cross with Steven; but not as much for the alleged crime, but for having kept it a secret. Keeping you a secret; the one closest to his heart, his beloved, hidden from the one person he had always trusted with anything.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. No one could know. She’s-- she is too precious. I had to protect her,” he explained softly, urgently. “And I still do. I will, with your help or without it. But… please.”

Sir Barnes continued to regard him, stunned into silence still, expression unreadable.

Then, he shook his head; what might seem as disagreement however, Steve recognized as resignation. He had known Bucky for too long to not be able to decipher which shake of a head was a no and which was an expression of indignation and regret at his own choice of a best friend.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

And with those words, Steve took his hasty leave, his minute relief drowned in the sea of worry when he sneaked into the stables to rush through the gates of the castle, claiming to be running a King’s errand.

Seeking his closeness the pretty white doe having sipped at love all despite her oath, she begged the forest spirits to let her go to follow her heart and its eternal song.

Light breeze caressing your hair like the tender fingers of your lover, brushing away a lose strand from your face. Gentle September sunrays of a late afternoon warming your cheeks, long leaves of grass tickling your ankles and your hands as you gathered brownwort, thyme and lady’s mantle, the smell almost too much despite its pleasant notes. Your hand instinctively laying over your belly as the reminder of why you were gathering these particular herbs blossomed in your mind anew, a smile settling on your face. It was not just the time of year blessing people with abundance of these flowers, a nature’s reminder the time was coming to bath in the blessed lake on the Autumn equinox; it was the sweet secret humming under your heart too, growing stronger and more beautiful by day – and slightly bittersweet for for now, it was only yours to keep, your beloved knight none the wiser.

Steven.

The very reason, you suspected, for the heavy feeling in your heart; the reason why none of the kind offerings of mother nature seemed to sooth a jittery feeling you had woken with up from your restless sleep. Unease had been crawling over your skin; a solemnity’s shadows, despite the beautiful weather and the joyful morning realisation that a barely noticeable bump was now showing on your body, a testament to the blessings of love.

The sky was beginning to colour with sunset with no clouds in sight; and yet, you could feel a storm coming, one you did not feel would be of the refreshing purifying kind. The air did not smell of rain; if you breathed in deeply, it reeked of the very death the wind seemed to whisper about in the tallest of birch trees. A warning; a witch’s intuition tuned to the finest hints of the gods of nature and forest spirits. You had tried to sooth yourself, coaxing yourself into peace by wondering if it perhaps was but a new future mother’s anxiety.

Yet, an instinct as old as time whispered to you to know better.

Which was why the wild stomping of hooves nearing your cabin should have not taken you by surprise. But it did.

You rose from your crouch so fast your head span, gathered flowers falling from your hands at the brief faint sensation; you steadied yourself just as Steven’s horse came into view, slowing into a walk as not to startle you or crush all the blossoms on the meadow.

The silent thank you to the gods for seeing your love alive and well left your lips without prompting, followed by your spine tingling with a shudder of power at its base.

Almost as if the gods blessed you for your genuine gratitude and gifted you with strength. Strength you shall no doubt need, for Steven might be living and breathing, dismounting his mare in a thousand-times practised manner, breathtaking as ever, but the distress on his face and the tension of his wide shoulders told you those shoulders carried the weight of the world at the moment.

Feet waking with motion, you met him halfway as he rushed to you, his arms quick to embrace you lovingly but so tight all air left your ribcage for long moments. Steven’s heart thundered against your ear as you hid your face against his chest. Fresh air had washed his clothes of most smells, but sweat and wine and rich spices still enveloped your senses, a tell-tale signs of the feast which he had told you about being interrupted by something vicious.

Yet, you took precious moments of simply breathing your lover in, basking in the comfort his arms offered no matter the circumstance.

He nuzzled his face in your hair, his chest expanding with a generous inhale, a steadying breath which made his heart race faster, as if attempting to outrun the very storm you had felt arriving.

You ran your hands down his broad back, feeling your own heart leaping into your throat as the silence between you, often so sweet and comforting, stretched ominously.

“Steven… love,” you whispered, attempting to shift in his embrace, only achieving his hold growing firmer, his muscles almost shaking with effort not to let go.

Oh Steven… What a terrible feat had been laid upon him?

“What has happened?”

Finally releasing your body, his hands were quick to cradle your face instead, achingly gentle, even as his eyes roamed your face wordlessly, brimming with so much emotion it stirred your unease further.

“Rytier moj?”

Steven’s face softened minutely, thumbs stroking your cheekbones as tenderly as butterfly wings despite the power – or the lack of it – in his grip.

“My love…”

Lips curling in a tiny smile, you mirrored Steven’s affection, reaching to settle your palm against his cheek, fingers of your other hand carding through his hair; your heart fluttered when he leaned into your touch, a wavering breath escaping his lips before they pressed against your palm to sooth the scratch of his beard against your skin.

Despite the dulcet image he made, eyes fluttering close for a blissful moment of nothing but love shared, you felt his body pulse with anxious urgency seemingly seeping into yours through your fingertips.

“I did not sleep well…” you confessed, his already pursed lips turning down. “I had a heavy feeling in me. Now I know the gods had not warned me simply for their own whims. What’s happened?”

Steven opened his eyes again; with a single caress of the breeze, he straightened, his aura of a knight – a fierce protector, a loyal friend, a humble determined servant – returning with its full force as did his worry.

“I need your help.”

A simple plea.

A simple answer.

“Always, rytier moj. Anything,” you promised.

One would expect relief to fill your lover’s features; instead, dread twisted them into a frown of dismay. Almost as if he had been hoping for your rejection.

Why?

The whisper of death among the trees grew louder, haunting, sending such a shudder through your body not even your lover’s warmth could hope to protect you from it, another urgent question scratching at the back of your mind.

Death, the trees seemed to whisper.

Whose death?

“Oh bosorka moja…”

Not Steven’s. Never. Not on your watch. Not as long as you walked this realm.

And not your child’s. You’d claw a throat open with your bare hands had anyone tried to take them away. Take her away. You had dreamed two nights prior, dreamed of a girl with Steven’s beautiful eyes and your hair caressed by the wind, her laughter filling the air as he sat her on his shoulders and she placed the daisy crown on his head-

The image had been so full of hope, so bright, so full of promise; it battled the current scent of death fiercely, one blending into another, and it felt like you were stood in the middle.

Your choice. Your power.

Your victory; or your loss.

You gulped, your gentle hold on Steven’s face growing shaky; with fear or the weight of responsibility, you weren’t sure.

“What is it, love? You are worrying me… come in. Tell me what weights down your-“

“Prince Anthony has been poisoned,” he said at last.

The whisper of the wind seemed to turn into a screech of a gale, even as the tree leaves and grass barely rustled.

The Prince… was he the one whose death you felt impending? It must have been.

In a split second, it became so clear why Steven was so shaken.

An impending death of his brother in arms. Of someone whom he served and appreciated.

Of the future ruler; quite possibly caused by the attempts of the party of Asgard.

An act of war.

Should Prince Anthony die, there would be no stopping at one death. Devastating number of lives could be lost. Including Steven’s.

No. Not on your watch. Not as long as you walked this realm.

But could you stop it?

Stood in the middle. Your choice. Your power.

Could you prevent a war?

Your mind was set into a whirl, various herbs and remedies for different poisonings refreshed in your mind.

“Do you know which poison it was?” you asked urgently, dropping your hands; and confused as why Steven’s remained firmly on your face, his expression speaking of pain greater than before. “Steven, love. What are his troubles? I can send a potion, pass it as a remedy from a physician-”

“Burning feeling in his forehead, weakness of muscles, trembling, cold sweat… he fainted and could not be woken up, only for a brief moment. He had trouble speaking, began to shake, fainted again...” Steven listed slowly, his unease growing with every word.

And so did yours.

Determination bled out from your body drop by drop, replaced by dread, the very weakness your lover was talking about as if settling in your own muscles and bones.

“The physician believes it might have been... aconite?” he added.

You had figured as much, seemingly endless moments before Steven spoke the dreaded word.

Aconite.

The worst nightmare of all living things; the deadliest daydream of those who meant harm and would not stop until their enemy released their last breath.

Death, screeched the breeze in the crowns of the birch trees; the yew trees, the very symbol of passing, joining in.

Death. War. Death.

Your power. Your victory. Your loss.

Your voice shook more frantically than young aspen leaves in the wind.

“Steven… aconite is deadly. I have no potion or salve for this. There is no cure-”

“That is what physician Banner said.”

“But then what…”

Your voice trailed off, words stuck in your throat, air stolen from your chest. A lighting from clear skies could struck you at the very moment and you would barely take notice of such.

It all made sense now. You having lost sleep. The whispers of death. The assumed shiver of power you shall no doubt need. And at last, Steven’s almost palpable dismay when you had said you’d help. That you’d do anything.

He had hoped you’d help.

He was terrified of it all the same.

You could feel blood draining from your face, rushing past your ears; unspeakable horror and determination swept you like the non-existent gale in the tree crowns.

“Steven…”

His grip on your face grew firmer, unsteady but urgent, his forehead pressed against yours as his eyes slid shut, his whisper a frantic promise, a confession and a prayer at once.

“I know. Believe me, my love, I know, and I have never been more scared of anything in my whole life,” he said huskily, barely audible over the wild thundering of your heart, the shaky sound of your quick breaths, even as the rest of the world faded into background, all noise ceasing. Or perhaps even the sparrows forgot how to sing, struck by fear for their life.“I would have not asked this of you if I did not fear that Anthony’s death would unleash a war with Asgard and might destroy us all… and if I did not believe I could protect you.”

“Steven-“

A thumb over your lip, gently pressing to silence your protest, Steven guided you to look up to his eyes, every word falling from his lips an oath signed by his own blood.

“Bosorka moja… I shall protect you, no matter the cost. You must know I would lay my life for you. I will, should it come to it. As long as you are safe.”

Consumed by adoration and terror at once, you slipped from Steven’s hold, shaking your head.

He had not the slightest idea what he was speaking of, the reckless fool.

He had no idea.

And he had no idea whom he would be leaving should he deliver on his terrible promise.

“These words are not nearly as comforting as you believe them to be! How would we-- how would I live without you?” you lamented, feeling the fire of power and indignation burn inside of you, chasing the fear away for several beats of your heart. “And I-- I am not even sure I can heal him.”

“You healed me,” Steven offered kindly, encouraging, confusion and the softest trace of hurt at you having escaped his touch twisting his face. He had no idea. He had no idea at all. “You said I was at the brink of death myself-“

“You were,” you spat, not appreciating the reminder – not of his injuries, nor of your past recklessness, as grateful as you were for the latter, not a single regret in your mind for having risked it all to save the handsome stranger with goodness etched into his very soul, having shone so bright it had outshined your doubts and fear for your life. But this was different. So much circumstance had changed. “But I was… I had faith in your soul, saw your good heart. I believed to be safe from you should I be too weak to protect myself after I casted my spells, and for that, I was able to pour all my magic into the healing. And I-- I was much more careless with my power then… “

You made a pause, inhaling slowly, gathering courage in the face of Steven’s features twisting further with distress.

“But Steven… that was before. I-- before we-“

“What is it, bosorka moja? Before what?”

Your lower lip trembled, regret lacing the soft touch of your fingertips to his face.

This was not how you wished for him to find out. You had told him before, erased his memory to ease his conscience and to prepare for the right moment, a moment fit for such joyful tidings; but much like him, having rushed here asking for help despite the unspeakable risks, you had no other option.

You had no choice.

You had no time.

The deep-sea blue with a forest green shade of his irises brimmed with emotion, tenderness and silent question.

With a lump in your throat, you dropped your hands again, curling them around your middle as if to protect the secret and save it for a reverent moment your love and lover – and your child – would have deserved.

Steven regarded your stance with dread visibly climbing up his throat. You could see it in his eyes, the sudden uncertainty, the questions written in his eyes growing frantic and painful.

Why had you stepped back from him? Why had you evaded his touch? Why did you seem taken by sorrow? What secret had you been keeping from him? For you must have had some. You must have not told him something crucial – and in a dark time like this, it shall come to light.

You appeared so shaken; you appeared scared. Of something he had failed to protect you from?

Or of his reaction to the revelation?

You chose your words carefully, speaking them slowly, even though you could feel him hanging onto every syllable.

“It is not only me anymore who needs to be protected.”

Steven did not understand; that much was clear from his expression, from the step he took closer to you only for you to take a step back, etching his hurt deeper into his face.

“I… I do not understand, my love. Do you have—do you know of someone who could help you? Do they need protection too?”

The they tasted of poison much bitterer than aconite; disbelief and profound pain.

You could almost hear it, the absurd questions he seemed to be asking himself. Was there… was there someone else? Someone else who had earned your love more fiercely than he had? More deserving?

The way your love remained hidden, the distance he still had to keep, laid heavy in his mind, always, now feeding his doubt; his fear that someone else now occupied the space he had so selfishly taken up in your heart.

But had only been here mere days ago, yes? Surely you could have not--- you would have not… or had you? No. That wasn’t possible. You were the kindest most loving person he had ever met, loyal to a fault – and he was blessed to be yours, to be loved, unconditionally, more than he deserved for keeping you his little secret.

You could not read thoughts; but Steven’s always seemed to be laid bare in front of you to card through. Betrayal and resignation all at once, jaw tight to mask his hurt, to hide the very doubt you read so clearly. Doubt, but not of you; of him. He had always carried it with him, the guilt of not providing for you as he imagined he should for his beloved.

Doubt, crystal clear in his gaze. It was possible, was it not? The most wonderful woman he had ever met, finally fed up, the goblet of your patience finally having overflowed, deciding to find a man worthy of you, able to take care of you, truly, one you were willing to-

You could not bear his mind screaming anymore, even as you had not heard a single word, a single thought, all of it but achy questions expressed by his gaze alone.

“No, Steven, I do not--- I merely cannot only think of myself now,” you said softly, searching for words to reveal the secret at last, not, not wanting to and craving it all the same. “I… I need to protect us.”

His shoulders sagged, doubt and heartache erased at once, tenderness at your worry for him melting into his smile.

“Do not fret, bosorka moja. I can hold my own.”

The faint smile in the corner of your mouth hurt, tears burning in your eyes.

“I know, rytier moj… and yes, I meant us, but I--- I also meant us.”

The arm you had curled around your middle shifted. Your palm spread pointedly over your belly as you met his gaze with hesitance and silent hope; for as much as you dreaded revealing the source of your worst fear, the tidings were still joyful. And you hoped with the entirety of your heart that Steven would accept them as such, much like the first time.

But first, he had to comprehend them.

Several rushed beats of your heart it took him; but then he finally did.

Suddenly, it was his turn to stand still and rigid as if a lightning from the perfectly clear skies struck him. And it might have as well.

His voice was barely louder than a breath, hoarse, laced with careful hope despite the glaring truth.

“You—we- are we-?”

A crystal-clear memory of those being the very words he had spoken the first time entered your mind, a single tear spilling over; the awe and reverence on his face mirrored his expression all the same as you confirmed.

“Yes.”

“You are with a child? My child?”

It would have been amusing, the questions, if you hadn’t been on a brink of hysteria and hadn’t there been a metaphorical sword hanging above your heads while you indulged in revealing the sweetest secret there was between lovers.

“Yes.”

Countless grains of sand in hourglass fell, Steven simply observing you, his gaze feasting on the entirety of you with newfound emotion that touched your very soul and made it shiver with delight. He observed you with such adoration and devotion you could only imagine he would show to a deity descending to walk the Earth.

And then he was surging forward, falling on his knees in front you, one hand on your hip, the other wrapping around your lower back to keep you close as he laid his forehead on your belly, shaky, slow and careful; nothing short of reverent. Despite the circumstance, all the tears prickling in your eyes found their release – every inch of your body sang, feeling Steven’s love for both you and the life he had a generous hand in creating.

“Oh bosorka moja… láska moja,” he muttered into the fabric before he looked up, hesitant fingers slipping under, to feel the very bump you had only noticed today. His lips parted in mute awe, eyes turning glassy with sheer delight and wonder at the miracle.

You allowed yourself another moment of basking in his love; feeling the delight spreading through every vein, through every bone and nerve, all the way to your very core and source of power. Your hands found gentle purchase of Steven’s hair as his lips pressed to your belly.

But then, the inaudible crackle in the air brought you both from your reverie, the breeze screeching of death instead of new life returning.

There was no choice; dread filled your being along with a haunting whisper of opportunity from a voice speaking in tongues you barely understood and yet deciphered as guidance.

You must go. You must try. Despite the risks.

Stood in the middle. Your power. Your victory; your loss.

Your only hope and your possible doom.

“I shall try my best to help, even as I do not know if I will be able to. But Steven…” you addressed him softly, revealing one more piece, one more source of joy, “our little girl must remain safe at any cost.”

The hands sprawled around your middle twitched, a single tear escaping him as his eyes shone.

“Our--- a girl? How-“

“It is but a feeling,” you admitted, earning a brilliant smile which lasted too shortly.

You smiled tightly in return, a few more tears rolling down your cheeks as Steven’s hand softly caressed your barely-there bump again, butterflies seemingly to erupting in your stomach, your heart humming.

He rose to his feet with something in his eyes turning steely, his gentle voice once against taking on a heaviness of an oath.

“I will protect you both, even if it should be the last thing I will ever do.”

One wavering breath was all the luxury you granted yourself before springing into action, not allowing yourself to lament at the potential of death weaved into Steven’s promise. You could not afford any more distraction. The hourglass was unrelenting, rushing you.

“I know. We shall get going.”

You could feel his eyes on you, a mute confusion as you ruminated through the cabinets, the fire lit, a small pot placed on it, two handfuls of water, milk thistle, ginseng roots, and sprinkle of uncaria leaves added to the mix.

“You can sit down, love, I shall only complete the potion swiftly and we will be on our way,” you assured him, reaching for a pinch of turmeric to add.

Steven did not, in fact, sit down – if anything, you could feel him grow taller behind you, as if his growing bewilderment added an inch or two to his already impressive height. His stare was firmly set on you, a little burning and slightly insulting since you could almost hear his silent questioning of your sanity.

A potion? But you had said-

You looked over your shoulder briefly, your lover’s body nearer than expected, causing you to need to crane you neck a bit.

“No, there is no potion to neutralise the poison – but this remedy strengthens a body, aids it to fight off an infection and weakness,” you explained, expecting Steven’s face clearing, but not waiting for it do so, busying yourself with reading the mental list of ingredients, recalling every indispensable element. Milk thistle, ginseng, uncaria leaves, turmeric… ah. Yes. Where herbs were concerned, rare or common, that would be all. Only one last ingredient.

A gentle hand on your elbow stopped you as you were turning to the stack of knives, halting your movements tenderly but firmly. Blinking, you lifted your gaze to Steven’s face again, disconcerted by his unreadable expression.

“Is it… safe?”

Had it not been for the large distress he was in, the feeling oozing of him and adding to your own shakiness, had it not been for the tenderness of his touch, you’d feign a slap to chase his hand away at the almost silly question – and at the sudden doubt in your knowledge and power and your reign over it.

“Steven, love, my apologies for the bluntness, but Prince Anthony is on his deathbed, so I cannot very well hurt him further and I shall have you known that this very potion you have drunk yourself-”

“For you,” he clarified, two soft syllables in contrast to your slightly exasperated words, your voice falling silent as sweet worry reflected in his sky-blue irises. Despite the circumstance, your heart seared at the fussing, no matter how groundless and ironic. “I am asking whether it is safe for you and our… our child to prepare that. I know it may seem irrational given why I am here, but-“

It was, you had to admit. And yet. You spent a precious moment, precious grains of sand falling in the ominous hourglass above your heads, placing your palm over his hand, reassuring.

“It is perfectly safe, rytier moj… certainly no more dangerous than rushing to the castle, the very heart of the Kingdom, and attempt to save the prince using the most outlawed practice in these lands,” you added with an unsteady cheekiness, earning an exasperated glare; and a full body shudder he couldn’t hope to contain.

The same tremble ran through your body; and yet, the whisper for caution was overshadowed by a tingle of energy unknown, a wordless encouragement. Almost a haunting promise from the Fate itself that bravery shall be rewarded.

But if that were true, where would the ever-present whispers of death and upcoming end fit in the mosaic then?

Shaking your head as well as the overwhelmingly bewildering sensations off, you charmed a soft smile for your lover and love – for the father of your child, already caring so deeply for the life to be born out of your love – and let your hand fall, turning back to your work as stream began to fill the cabin.

One last ingredient; a life essence to help maintain life.

You cradled the handle of the blade carefully in your hand, turning your other palm against the tip; the knife was out of your hand before you could comprehend how, pressed flat to Steven’s thigh, shielded from your touch.

“I’m sorry. I--- is that necessary?” Steven asked with a painful edge to his voice, his continued concern causing your heart to tremble.

“Yes… it is but a drop of blood, my love, I promise. A speckle of life essence to maintain life.”

His frown deepened as you reached for the knife again, fingers brushing his soothingly as you grasped at the handle. So many emotions played over his features; hesitance, concern, guilt. He must have realised you had used your blood before to cure him before you had even learned his name, another sacrifice having been made aside from having left yourself completely vulnerable to him when you had drained your magic and body alike to bring him from the death’s doorstep where you had found him at.

Then, an almost shy question, as if he felt too bold to even suggest such heretic thought.

“Life essence… would mine suffice, then?”

Where his implication was shy – that his mere mortal, human blood could match yours, the blood of a born witch – his determination was not.

He met your eye, a brilliant satisfied sparkle lighting up his irises when he read the truth in your hesitant gaze.

“Yes… it would. But-“

Your knight offered his left palm outstretched, no further questions. The bottomless trust in his gesture and in his eyes caused a lump to grow in your throat; the mere idea of cutting him, even if it was to only be but a scratch, had ache sting deep within your ribcage.

“Are you cert-“

“Would you rather I lead the cut myself, love?” he asked, his voice tender upon your hesitance, understanding the action would cause you pain – as if you were to hurt yourself instead.

And you might as well.

Your hands were made to heal his wounds, not cause them; your hands were made to erase his aches, not bring them; your hands were made to love, not hurt.

Your read in his gentle gaze as he nearly read in yours: I despise the thought of hurting you, rytier moj; It is but alright, bosorka moja.

You shook your head.

“I-- no. I may do it. I apologize, we do not have time for-“

A hand grasping your jaw, soft lips silencing your apologies; your eyes fluttered close despite seeing right through the trick. You felt the pressure of his hand against the blade, the silent sound of protest earning you a deeper kiss, a softer caress of his lips against yours, tasting sweeter than summer breeze, so achingly tender.

“There you go, bosorka moja…”

With his retreat, Steven ran his thumb over your cheek, smiling; then, he moved his injured hand into yours, leading you above the pot.

Slightly dazed and exasperated still, you sighed and carefully squeezed his wound to indeed only spare a drop of his precious blood.

As you pressed your lips to his fingertips in a thank you, you let your healing power flow through your touch, closing the cut your body should have worn.

“This had better be the only blood spilled today,” you whispered; and prayed too. You met your Steven’s stormy gaze as the contents of the pot sizzled, sweet coppery aroma rising in the air.

“It will, bosorka moja. It will.”

He sealed the deal with a kiss, sweet and desperate and bruising.

And falling on deaf ears, whisper in the crowns of the birch trees, his and your words echoed the very same song.

Blood had better be spilled…

Today, today, today…It will, it will, it will…

Next part

Other headcanon and playlist

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this universe

Complete masterlist

Endearments used: Rytier moj (My knight) Bosorka moja (Witch mine) Láska moja (Love mine)

I hope you liked this - let me know your thoughts!

May your November be sweet and cosy ✨

[itsagoodluckkiss]

My Firefly

Pairing: Ace x Reader

Warnings: Major character death, hurt no comfort, full of angst, pure depression

Words: 863

Note: As always, english is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes. No beta reading, we die like men in this one *cough*. I write with female reader in mind but this has no mentions of gender, take it as you want. No use of Y/N. This was inspired by Sufjan Stevens' "Fourth Of July". I cried writing it. I'm sorry. You've been warned.

The evil it spread like a fever ahead, it was night when you died, my firefly.

What could I have said to raise you from the dead, oh could I be the sky on the 4th of July?

You’ve come to realize, sometimes, love is just not enough. And you’d have to live the rest of your life with that realization. You stood above your dead lover, his once warm body that held you through the harshest winters, now laid cold on the bed, waiting for the time to go to his final resting place. You had cleaned him, covered his fatal wounds, dressed him in the clothes he wore when you first met him, abroad the Moby Dick. His body and soul had gone through enough disgrace. The least you could offer him now was peace.

That night at Marineford, you died alongside Ace. Your body was just a shadow now, cursed to roam the earth until the day you would see him again. When his weak body was cradled into his brother’s arms, his eyes fell on you across the battlefield. And he smiled. He smiled before he crashed to the ground. The guttural screams of Luffy were slightly louder than your cries as you cursed the world around you.

Everything was a blur after that. You knew you had helped his brother escape, Ace’s will had to live on. After the Red Hair Pirates stopped the war and the marines initially refused to return the bodies of your captain and lover to put them on display, you were ready to snap. You weren’t able to even say goodbye to him! How much more could you bare? ‘Luckily’, the bodies were retrieved and you could bury and grieve them properly.

And now there you stood, caressing the face you’ve come to love more than yourself, knowing it would be the last time you did.

“Such a funny though to wrap you up in cloth… do you find it alright, my firefly?”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from welling up, hot tears running down your cheeks. You doubted they would ever stop. You sat beside him. He looked like he was sleeping and you could almost see the slight smile on his lips he wore when he left you. Your head rested on his shoulder, your hand running above the place his heart was supposed to be. Instead of a strong heartbeat, it was dead silent.

“What wouldn’t I do for you to be here now… I’m sorry…”, you sobbed.

It finally hit you for good. He won’t come back to you like he promised. You’d never see those brown eyes again. You won’t get to hug his form or kiss his lips again. Where would you stand now if not next to him?

“I can’t… Ace I can’t… I can’t do this, Ace…” , you screeched, choked out by your sobs.

You know what he would say to you. That you had to survive, to hold on tight, to live a life with no regrets. You didn’t think you could do it. Your mind takes you back to that one night.

“I regret meeting you so late, firefly… Wish I’d known you sooner. I think you would have saved me a lot of nightmares.”, you said with your head on his chest, his hands wrapped around you, in a comforting embrace as you both laid on your shared bed in the room of the ship.

“Don’t think about this now, yes? We have forever ahead of us. It will always be you I come back to”, he smiled down at you, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“You want stay with me? Forever?”

“There’s nothing in this world I want more. I never thought I would find someone that loves me like you do. And I love you with my whole heart as well. I want you to live on with nothing dragging you behind, and I’ll try my hardest to give this life to you.”

“You have no idea how much I love you, Ace…”, you were on the verge of tears at his sweet words, you hand slipping into his, your fingers intertwining. “Forever then?”

“Forever.”

But forever would never come now. And you relied too much on that future. Now you had nothing. Nothing to hold on now, nothing and no one else to live for. And you would live in this cruel world from now on, with the regret that you were too weak to save the love of your life. Until your very last breath.

Your hands cupped his face, caressing his cheeks as you placed your lips on his for the last time. One last goodbye, until the day you would see him again.

Now you sat alone in front of his grave where your home was buried. Your fingers dig in the fresh soil, as if wanting to be buried next to him. His body was carried with care to his last stop. But you didn’t have anywhere to go now. Your head looks at the stars, as if waiting to see your own up there. Your home was Ace. And you’d wait for him.

“Goodbye, my firefly… Until we meet again…”

[paymechildsupport]

YAN!Suguru Geto // x Reader [Vindication]

-!! Yandere!Vindictive!Geto x Yandere!Reader (two yanderes in love <3 )

-!! CW: Themes of death, suicide, murder, obsession

Storyline takes place a few months after Riko’s death, in the middle of Geto’s descent into immense depression and prior to him leaving jujutsu tech. Instead of investing his time to become a murderous cult leader, Geto pours everything into academics, and against you. He would do anything to make sure you didn’t leave him too. 

-!! The alternation between Geto and Suguru is intentional.

-!! Gender never specified

You were his academic rival. You’d both do anything to maintain that thrill of competition, anything…

…

Could they get any more annoying..?

Could they get even more unbearable..?

Could they just shut up for once..?

Goddamnit,

They were so…

Infuriating.

The mere idea of them being happy,

Of them being even remotely okay

Of air reaching their lungs 

Of their bones all perfectly intact

Of their mere  e x i s t e n c e, 

It made you want to throw up. 

Why couldn’t they just… go away?

It would make your life so, so much easier. 

It would make you so, so happy.

If…. They….. could… just…. Cease… to… E̴̠̟̾̈́ẍ̶̡̢̻̱̠̜́̒̀̉̿͝i̴͓͇̓͐͆͘͘ş̶͙͚̞̪̽͛̋͜ͅt̵͓̲̟̪̹̊͒̉̈̏̑

-

-

-

“Is everything okay?” You’re snapped back to the present immediately. You struggled to remember where you were or what you were doing.

You look up to find the words come from Suguru Geto’s mouth. He’s standing over where you slouch in your seat, looking down with a hint of condemnation and… smugness? Fucking bastard.

“Eh..? Where- where is..” 

“You’re in the library” Ah, that’s right.

“Oh! Ehe, of course I am. Geez- ah… Oh! Yeah, uh,  I’m okay. Its all good” 

Geto raises a brow in question, not buying it

“You’ve just been staring out into space for the past seven minutes. And-“ he points, “You just broke your pencil” 

You look at where he was staring at to see your pencil, indeed, snapped in your hand. You were still gripping it, hard. Very hard. 

You don’t even know how you’re still surprised at the sheer power that your hatred has over you. It’s quite scary sometimes. 

“Yes.. everything’s fine, honestly. I’m just tired is all..” 

“The library closed awhile ago” He deadpans. So matter of fact.

“Ah- wait, what? Then why are you still here-?” 

“Satoru and Shoko have already left. I said I’d stay. The librarians were too hesitant to approach you.”A corner of his mouth quirks up, “you’re very intimidating when you’re frustrated.”

You were silent, just now taking in the darkness of the library. Almost all the lights were out- albeit a few lamps in the corners- and you were the only ones still in the building. It was getting very late and the streetlights outside illuminated the dark streets. Under other circumstances it could be considered peaceful even. 

You sigh, looking down. You can see the eyebags under Geto’s eyes, engraved into his features for the past few months. You’d only ever seen that look in the mirror. The similarity unnerved you, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. You felt proud, partly,-- it showed how much he expended just to compete with you, to rake himself up somewhere remotely close to your level, and then some. You reminisce, remembering the Geto a few months ago, prior Star Plasma, prior to Riko, prior to the empty husk in front of you

“Is something the matter?” His voice takes a drastic switch, softening to a wispy tone. You start to shake, “Is someone the matter?”

“…”

You knew it was dangerous. Suguru Geto wasn’t who you remembered, – he was unstable, unpredictable. You of all people should know, you’ve been subjected to a front row seat to his descent into despair. He was apathetic, borderline violent sometimes. Ever since the murder of Star Plasma vessel, Riko Amanai, Geto unknowingly latched himself onto everyone close enough, determined to make sure they never suffer the same fate, – and that included you, his rival. 

It was rather humorous, really. The lengths you two would now go to to keep your little game going. You were so invested, so enthralled into beating and dominating him in absolutely every way possible. You were intoxicated by the idea of winning, so drunk off of the thrill that came with competing. You sometimes wonder where you would draw the line.

Suguru was so into your little games that oftentimes you wonder if he really does enjoy to be beaten. To be made lesser of, to be belittled, to be degraded, to be beaten and dominated in every way possible. Obsession would be the only word to describe it. The boy was obsessed. Obsessed with competing. Obsessed with your antics. Obsessed with you. You would often question how far he’d go just for the sake of your little contest. 

“Would you kill someone for me?” The words fall from your lips before you can think as you lift your head up. 

“Yes”. He doesn’t hesitate. 

“…”

“I would kill anyone without a second thought, should you request it”

You can’t stop,

“…If there was someone I hated more than anything in the world… someone I couldn’t stand… someone who’s mere presence makes me want to break something…. Someone who I cannot stand the thought of them breathing… someone who just thinking of them makes me… makes me wanna…” You trail off.

“My only regret,” he says quietly, “was that it wasn’t me who had affected you in such a way” 

You smile bitterly, looking out the window.

“Who hurt you” His words were soft, but his tone dripped with venom. 

“… They didn’t necessarily hurt me directly… They just-….  I just…- “ You take a deep breath,   “the things they do and say to others concerning me and people I care about are… questionable, to say the least.”

“Yet they did end up affecting you nonetheless, correct?”

“Well, yes”

“So then they did hurt you”

“You could put it that way, yes”

Geto’s eyes flash,

“What is their name?”

“…”

“Tell me their name.”

“…” Such a vindictive sense of justice. 

His smile is laced with dynamite. 

“Tell me their name and I’ll make sure no words will ever be allowed to leave their mouth again”

Still, you remain silent. You didn’t want Geto to get his hands dirty doing something you should have been able to do. You shake your head. 

He sighs, his face softening. He bends down on one knee to meet your eye level whilst sitting down.

“Darling,” He’s so, so very gentle. “It will be alright. All this will be over, soon. Just let me do this for you. Let me get rid of one more disgusting person. Just let me…” You can feel yourself coming undone. “Let me do what I do best. I would never offer unless it was you” Your breathing heavily now, shaking violently from head to toe. 

He was going to protect you–

He leans down to your ear and whispers the final bit like a caress, “Just give me their name”

And you do.

–no matter what.

You tell him their name. 

And just like that, he smiles, gets up, and exits the library, closing the door softly behind him. 

.

The next morning they’re all over the news. 

A true tragedy, or so that’s what it appeared to be. 

You say nothing as the police describe in morbid detail the mangled and shredded body that had appeared to have jumped off the roof of the school. Your school.

 It was much too graphic to show, the police said. But it was by far one of the most horrendous deaths they had ever witnessed. The poor man looked sick to his stomach merely recounting the memory. 

Mawed and dismantled…

And although you felt as if you should have been happy, that you should have at least cracked a small smile, you simply couldn’t. 

This was only one. 

One death.

One person you hated, gone.

You still had more.

Much, much more.

A whole list in fact.

You wondered what would happen if Geto ever found out about the list you kept in the bottom drawer of your nightstand.

…

Maybe another day, you think.

Maybe another day.

~

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

(Heavily edited from a older piece)

I lo-lo-lo-lo-LOooooove Suguru he's such a bbg malewife :3

[hades-in-bloom]

‘Till Death Do Us Part, Pt. 2 | Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: Leon disappeared on his wedding day—until he was finally found.

contents & warnings: am cursed with fluff, assumed older Leon, assumed age gap (could be none though), mentions of blood and injuries, mentions of death, reader could be any gender, Leon behaving like an ass because he can’t handle feelings, kisses, no mentions of y/n

author’s note: I had no idea how it would end until it ended; proceed at your own risk.

all works in this blog are intended for 18+ audience

comments are appreciated <3

xoxo

***

Leon spat blood and attempted to turn his head around, mildly squinting because of the palpable pain in the back of his skull. Shit, he grunted. Shit, shit, shit. The man cursed through the pain in his broken ribs and the soreness of the bruises that seemed to cover every inch of his body.

Who knew a quick work trip from New York to Washington, D.C., the day before your betrothal would be a nasty idea?

“You knew, you overworked dumbass,” Leon muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, cracked and hoarse. Everything that happened to him was precisely what Kennedy should have expected after the mission brief that Hunnigan delivered last night.

While he was getting out from under the wreckage of the D.S.O. helicopter, you must have been worried sick, all glammed up and dressed in your beautiful wedding gown. You didn’t let Leon take a peak at it before the ceremony, and now he regretted it—after all, he has never been too superstitious; will he even make it home tonight? At this moment, the man had no presumption if the ceremony would happen. Right now, he ran thin against the chances of making it out alive from his trouble.

Leon quickly searched for other survivors of the incident, but he found only corpses instead. Again. That seemed to be his thing—to be the last man standing; however, this peculiarity of his character has never brought as much peace to Leon as others would like it to.

It could bring peace to you, though, as by the end of this night, you might still have a fiancé to marry if he gets lucky.

Leon took time to bandage his right leg with pieces of his shirt as it bled heavily, almost dripping onto the ground. If he loses too much blood, he will collapse right there—and then you will haunt him in the afterlife, as you promised some time ago. Not that he didn't want to spend eternity with you, but it was way too soon for his liking.

Leon wasn't sure how long did it take to reach the highway, walking through the woodlands.

He passed out as soon as one of the cars slowed down next to him, answering the man's heavy gesturing from the roadside.

***

Your phone rang in the middle of the night, but you were wide awake.

“Yes, Ingrid?” you replied, audibly drenched and tired and lacking sleep for the past few days. You—or anyone—haven't heard back from Leon in a week, and you started losing your mind. You didn't want to prepare yourself for the worst; you really didn't.

“He's in a hospital in Delaware,” Hunnigan kept her tone professional, although it wasn't enough to hide her excitement. You covered your mouth with your hand, suddenly feeling dizzy. “He's badly hurt but alive. I'll send a D.S.O. ‘copter to pick you up—you are his emergency contact, after all.” You could hear Ingrid smiling. “Over and out.”

Hunnigan has already hung up—and you still couldn't breathe.

***

You rushed up the stairs to the second floor, not caring about using the slowest elevator on Earth—at least, that's how you perceived the hospital’s one; for the past week waiting on Leon to get back home, you had no patience left.

He briefly flinched in a hospital bed when you burst into his ward. You were so mad at him before—and suddenly you weren't, looking at how he's devouring a local chocolate pudding, a spoon still in his mouth when his eyes trained on you.

You felt a wave of relief washing over your body, and you finally felt it—he was alive. Despite all the odds, he came back to you.

“You bastard,” you whined anyway, keeping a weird distance. You might have been afraid of squeezing him too hard so the numerous droppers he was connected to would fall off.

Leon finally took a spoon out from between his lips, the lower one visibly split after the accident.

“Do I know you?” he tilted his head, watching you. You blinked in silence; only Kennedy’s heart rate monitor was beeping, its frequency increasing. After what you both went through, did he actually come back to you?

You didn't have time to say a word when one of the nurses walked into the room. She was in her sixties, looking at you like a proud aunt would.

“Oh, isn't it the lovely lady you've been telling me about,” she chirped, looking at Leon.

This was when you noticed a loving smirk growing on his face.

You took a deep breath, taking a step towards your dear fiancé.

“You are so lucky that you were dying a good second ago, Kennedy,” you groaned when he caught your wrist, almost desperately kissing you after you were pulled closer. You had no idea where his strength for this movement was coming from—but you could still feel a taste of a hospital-provided chocolate pudding on his lips.

***

[mellowwillowy]

A Mouthful of Boobs

GN! Reader (who has no shame of playing Childe bcs that's me) x (Subby, Pervert) Childe (a bit of yan tendencies if you squint)

Just a drabble so it's REALLY messy

"Huaaa, just once, just one chance, please rail meeee Childeeee"

You cried as you replayed that one scene where Childe showed up in Fontaine's trailer. Hell, you didn't even watch the front and just skipped to his scene alas you didn't know what the other characters' names were.

Your PC stayed on with Childe standing, idling in front of you while you kept on kicking the air, biting your pillow.

What you didn't know is that, ekhem, SAGAU.

Childe internally screamed inside while still doing his game idles, honestly, he gotta thank Hoyoverse for only letting his dick boink during his weapon trance. But the way you kept on begging to be railed by him, especially with his delusion? No, you even went as far as spouting, "Please rail me in your foul legacy form just once!!". Gosh, were you not aware of how it won't painfully fit you? Buttttt.... who is he to not grant you that one wish and stuff you full?

"Oh Childe, my orange cat, if only you are real and breathing." You coo at your PC screen while poking it. Well, firstly on his face, then his chest, then his... whole pack down there (dick).

Childe screamed internally again, he even stuttered a bit in his idle but you didn't notice it.

"Please please please, let me kill some slime, or better yet, respawn me with an egg." He thought to himself.

...

Respawn, and spawn. What a pair.

Hmm...

..

.

(I really am not in the mood to go to great lengths for this)

You opened your eyes and saw the white ceiling above you. Looking to your left, you checked the time. Afterward, you tried to reach your phone which you failed at so you tried to get up.

No luck, you couldn't budge, what the fuc-.

Oh what in the actual fuck.

Your right arm, yes, was tucked into someone's hold. Someone ginger, someone larger than your frame, someone you recognized.

Tartaglia. Childe. Ajax.

In the flesh.

"Motherfu-"

The ginger only grinned at your reaction as he let go of your arm.

"Yaaah~ I'm Tartaglia, in the flesh!" He said as he brought your hand into his manboobs (chest). Unwilling to miss this only one chance that's probably only happening because you were still dreaming (nah, you deluded yourself, aware of how dead your right arm was), you grabbed his tits and played with it, willingly.

"Gosh, it really is Childe's tits, in the flesh!" You drooled internally as you pinched his nipples which earned a whimper from the orange cat. Childe's face was soon filled in red, his breath getting raggier.

"Haa- Khuhkh! So eager, ahh, so, eager~"

"Of course I am! Better yet, let me milk it out!" You took a mouthful of his breast, (I have no shame aaa) your tongue swirling around it while your teeth bit it later on. You could clearly see your bite mark on it, and it felt good looking at it.

Your fingers went to give them a tease, flicking them up and down before pinching them. Childe's moan pitched from you playing with his nipples, his hands awkward, unsure of where to be placed. On your body? No good, he didn't deserve that (Said the one who watched you sleep with your right arm in his hold).

"So good for me~~, Gosh, I think I'm gonna save up for your cons instead of waiting for Pantalone (WHEN? WHO KNOWS 4444). Childe's head perked up at your words. Really? You're going to give up on Pantalone for his constellations instead? Oh Archon, no, Oh You (God), he could have sworn his dick twitched for a moment (why). God, it felt great hearing that after shooting death threats toward that refrigerator (Regrator) from the release of the harbingers trailer until now.

"AH-!"

Childe gasped, looking down, he saw your hand grabbing his... manhood... (dick). Ah....

well, that's a story for another time, (peace out innocently) they had a good time, that's for sure.

[praisethegabs]

before sunrise

pairing: Leon Kennedy x reader

synopsis: he's alive and recovering. the sun is rising, it's time to start a new day and, possibly, a new chapter in your life.

warnings: mentions of injuries, being at hospital, deaths, and traumas. starts with angst, but has a happy ending like our boy deserves. fluff, leon being vulnerable and sensitive and the reader comforting him, references to id!leon and vendetta!leon. no use of y/n, second person (you)

author's note: the third and final part of before trilogy. this part took more time to write because i wanted a good ending. there's some quotes from infinite darkness and vendetta bc why not? i rly enjoyed writing this trilogy, and i'm sad that it ended. i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did writing this!

word count: 4243k (approximately, i've lost count)

before: part one | part two

There was a soft breeze coming through the window, announcing the sunrise.

Although it was a cold day, the sun was shining in the blue sky outside. For some reason, you always enjoyed this type of weather. It wasn't cold enough, but it wasn't warm, too. It was perfect, even though you had to be satisfied with the view.

The walls were white, and you were starting to hate that color. Everything, absolute everything, was white. You sighed again, feeling the pain in your lower lip due to the cut you had. At least, it was something real, and you could feel it, and deep down, you were glad to feel something instead of cold, tiredness, and hunger. Even though you were safe, you hated to wait. And you hated even being at the hospital, especially when you couldn't do anything to change that.

But, just for some release of conscience, you weren't the one that was in there. Of course, the circumstances were terrible, but at least he was safe. Your mission was a complete success, but you were so worried. Nothing could make you feel better, and you were starting to despise that feeling.

Sure, patience wasn't your best virtue, and despite everything you did, all that was left was to watch Leon while he slept, completely medicated and out of danger.

You managed to call for help, and you couldn't stop remembering the fact that he almost died due to high fever. When you found him inside that house, he wasn't breathing anymore, and things happened so quickly that you couldn't even process everything yet. In one minute, he was presumed dead, and in the next one, he was inside the helicopter and being medicated, being resurrected by someone way more qualified than you. You had your share of cuts, contusions, and wounds, but still, he was your priority, and you wouldn't allow yourself to rest until you had sure Leon was safe.

And you brought him home safe.

Now, you were in the hospital and waiting for him to wake up. You glanced at your arm with the clean bandage and then at your hands. You were shaking, and you couldn't tell why, or you were just lying to yourself again like you always did when you were under stress.

"Hey, you" you hear Leon say, his voice weaker and husky, but still your Leon. Your eyes meet with his and suddenly, there's only peace. "Where are we?"

"We're safe" you said to him, your voice full of concern. You were trying so hard to make things easier, even though he was indeed safe.

"What happened?" he asks again, closing his eyes due to his tiredness, his voice low and more husky.

"I contacted Hunnigan, and she sent the rescue team. The medical team brought you here a few days ago" you explained to him, careful enough to not let him worry.

"I was sleeping for days? I guess I needed to rest" he chuckled, and his comment made you smile, your body starting to relax. Yes, it was your Leon.

"You always look like you need to rest" you teased him, a slight smile appearing on your lips as you feel more relaxed around him. "I'm glad you survived. You scared the living shit out of me... again"

"Are we doing scores now?" Leon teased you, the same sentence you used when you were helping him years ago during the outbreak in Raccoon City.

"How do you even remember that?" you ask him, laughing out loud, completely caught off guard by his question.

"I have a good memory, and besides, I couldn't forget the night you saved my life... twice" he said, smiling, and he looked very lovingly saying that way. Your heart melted inside your chest. "I owe you three times"

"Well, you made a promise to Marvin that day. I can't let you die, right?" you smiled back, feeling your cheeks turning red. After all these years, Leon still had that effect on you. "Even after we turned special agents, I'm afraid you'll stick with me till the day I die... and I'm pretty sure you'll still haunt me in the afterlife"

"Well, I'm glad you know that. I can't just lose the love of my life like that" Leon said, now opening his eyes and looking directly at you. "I'm sorry I scared you... I know you wouldn't let me die in peace"

"You're an asshole, Kennedy" You called him by his surname, but you laughed after you finished the sentence. "By the way, how are you feeling?"

"I'm in pain. Thank you for remembering it. Now I can complain about your terrible stitch skills" he tried to laugh, but his expression changed quickly, and he groaned in pain.

But you just laughed at him. Besides the laughs and the terrible jokes, he was still your Leon. The same man you had fallen in love with, and the same man you had the luck to share your home with. And, at the end of the day, he would be there. Home.

Life was weird sometimes.

You knew one day he wouldn't come home. One day, he could die during one assignment and leave you on your own. And the thought of that made your body shiver because you weren't prepared to lose him. The same thought was running through his mind. Although Leon had difficulty sharing his feelings, you could see and feel everything through his eyes. Words were unnecessary at that point. You knew him, and he knows you. That's all that matters.

"You look so beautiful when you're thinking about something else" Leon said, whispering, his voice soft as he looked at you, his blue eyes shining.

"When I'm distracted?" you ask him, smiling. True, he always loved to watch you doing absolutely everything.

"Yeah, especially when you're distracted. I love you, do you know that?" he asks you, a slight smile appearing on his lips as he declares himself to you.

"I love you too" you smiled again, your heart full of joy at the moment. He always expressed himself through actions instead of words, so hearing him say that, well, it completely melted your heart.

But suddenly, you caught yourself thinking about everything, starting with Raccoon City and ending with your last assignment, the one that almost ended Leon's life. You felt fear, although you usually didn't have time to feel scared like that. He was safe, right? Then why couldn't you feel the same? Your mind was tricking you to think otherwise, and you were starting to hate this.

"Hey, I'm fine" Leon said to you like he could read your mind and like he knew what was going on with you. "I'm not gonna die, trust me"

"I'm scared, and I don't know why" you replied, looking straight at his blue eyes, seeking comfort. "All that happened... Jesus, I can't let go, you know? I can't stop seeing Raccoon City all over again... you almost died in there and almost died again in our last assignment... and I just don't know if I can do this anymore. I can't lose you"

"I'm not going anywhere without you, babe. I promise you" his voice is full of comfort and kindness, as he talks very smoothly and caring. Sometimes, you just forget how lovely he can be. "I'm here, aren't I? I'll never leave you because if I do, then who's gonna haunt you in the afterlife?"

And with that, he made you smile. Even in pain and tired to the bones, he still tries his best to comfort you. You kiss his forehead gently as he sighs to your touch. He loved being kissed and spoiled by you, even though he wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even you.

"Get some rest, I'll go see if I can find any snacks to eat" you said to him before leaving his room.

He then sighed again, feeling much more tired than before. At least, he wasn't lost and alone in the middle of nowhere, and even though he also hated being in the hospital, Leon was feeling much happier having you around him. He glanced outside the window and started to thank every possible God out there to let them know he was glad to be alive again. The sun was rising, and he had a new opportunity to make things right.

Slowly, he started to close his eyes, embracing the darkness and diving into a dream.

He was again in Raccoon City. Leon could feel the cold rain touching his skin. He could see the nightmare that place was. Worse, he could see the tyrant that was hunting you both that day. His heart started to race inside his chest. He was scared to be in there again, being obligated to see his worst nightmare again and feel that all over again.

But, this time, something changed.

He saw you running from the same tyrant, and this time, he wasn't able to help you. Leon had to watch you die. He screamed and cried, he tried to get rid of whatever was holding him against the floor until the dream started to repeat and he realized he had to watch you die over and over again, unable to save you.

"NO, PLEASE! STOP!" he screamed, waking up. His breath was heavier. He was shaking and sweating. When he realized it wasn't real, he started to look around desperate, trying to find you.

"Leon? What happened?" you ask him, entering his room. He was still breathing heavily and shaking.

"It's... it's nothing. I'm fine" he lied, but he knew you already had figured out what happened to him. He was a terrible liar. "Don't look at me like that"

"Did you have a nightmare?" you ask him, sitting on the edge of his bed, your hands caressing his leg above the blanket that covers him.

But he didn't give you an answer. Instead, he remained silent, trying to calm himself down. His hands were shaking, and for some reason, words were unnecessary. You just knew what he needed. So, without telling him anything or asking him for permission, you just embraced him with your open arms, as if you could protect him from everything in the world.

And, with that warm embrace, Leon started to cry.

It was unusual for him to be so vulnerable like that, but truth be told, he was so tired. Every night, he had the same nightmare, but he always thought he could deal with that. Until he saw you dying, and there was nothing he could do to keep you safe. He had to watch you die. He had to hear you scream and hear you blame him for everything bad that has ever happened. And this time, he couldn't take it. He was scared, truly scared.

"It's okay, it wasn't real, and you're safe" you whisper to him, your voice soft and caring enough to calm him down.

"I saw you" he sobs, covering his face on your chest so you can't see him cry. "I saw you die... and there was nothing I could do to save you"

You said nothing. Instead, your hands were running through his hair. You knew he always had a soft spot for that, and he always loved being touched by you. He was indeed touch starved, but he always worshiped you for touching him so softly, so kindly. Slowly, he started to calm down, although you could hear him sobbing.

"It wasn't real, Leon" you assured him, your voice calm and yet caring. He needed that. He needed to remain that he did all he could, and it wasn't his fault. "Nothing bad will ever happen to you again"

But he kept sobbing, his voice muffled by his face covered on your chest. And he cried and sobbed like that until he fell asleep again, tears falling through his face. You gently covered him with the blanket, and then you gave him another kiss on his forehead before you left his room again. You were tired as well. You missed your home, and you wanted so desperately to run away from the hospital. Your thoughts were interrupted by someone calling you, and when you saw 'Redfield' on the screen, you just sighed.

"Hey, you" Chris said when you picked up the phone.

"Hey, Redfield. What's up?" you ask him, walking around the entrance to the hospital, where you could hear the sound of the traffic and the city.

"How is he?" Chris's voice seems to be concerned, and you know he is worried about Leon. You glanced to the sky before thinking about everything that happened.

"He's fine... Leon woke up today, and to be fair, he's really tired" you tell Chris, still remembering everything that happened during your escape. Just the thought of Leon being so hurt like that made your stomach twist. "But I guess he'll be here for a couple of days"

"Yeah, I thought so" he said, and you could imagine him shaking his head, and you smiled. "Can you tell him I called?"

"Yeah, sure... I'll let him know," you said, nodding your head, although Chris wasn't there to see you. "How're you doing?"

"The same as always. I'm investigating a guy named Glenn Arias, and hopefully, I'll find him soon" Chris said, now sounding very excited. It was a surprise he had time to check on Leon. Sometimes, he was very busy at the BSAA. "But I need to get going, I just wanted to hear from you. Take care of yourself"

"Yeah, you too, asshole" you smirk slightly when you call him an asshole. Then, you heard him laugh as well before he ended the call. Your hands were shaking again, and you were starting to feel the consequences of what happened.

You weren't weak, but this time, you were feeling something different inside you.

Sure, seeing the love of your life almost die in front of your eyes while there was nothing you could do to stop that... You were tired and overwhelmed by something you had never felt before, and you hated it. You looked up again, observing the sky, trying to calm yourself and noticing the shapes of the clouds and the colors combined. It was beautiful.

You took a deep breath and then returned to his room. He was sleeping peacefully, although you could see his swollen eyes, the result of so many tears being released by his sudden breakdown. It was so unusual to see Leon vulnerable, but you knew that he was tired of saving everyone and having no one to save him or take care of him when he needed it. And you understood that you were the one to do that. You were his home and his safe place, the one he needed to assure him everything was fine.

Sometimes, he just needed you.

Saving the world was a tough job and took everything from him, except for you. Sometimes, he needed to feel your touch, feel your presence, and hear you tell him everything was fine the way they were. He wasn't the scared boy you met at Raccoon City. He was so different, and yet, he remained the same. His essence hasn't changed. Time couldn't break him, although it was rough.

He had to endure all over these years, but still, he was the same, Leon. His eyes only shine when you're around, and he can be very lovely and kind only with you, although he had a lot of trust issues you had to overcome with patience and love. Leon was your everything, and by now, you were seeing how close you were to losing him. And this memory was killing you inside, melting you like acid, poisoning your mind, and making you feel guilty.

"A penny for your thoughts" you hear his voice, even though he sounds husky for a moment. His eyes were swollen, but they were shining so beautifully.

"I thought you were sleeping" you smirk, sitting again on the edge of his bed, crossing your arms. "Chris called, just for you to know"

"He did?" Leon raised an eyebrow as he watched you nod your head. "Thanks, I'll talk to him when I leave"

"You should be sleeping" you said to him, sitting on the edge of his bed, making yourself comfortable.

"I can't sleep. I hate being in here, and I don't want to close my eyes..." he sighed heavily, avoiding looking at you. You knew what it was.

"It's okay to be afraid, you know?" you smiled gently, reaching for his hand. Your fingers tangled with his, as he slowly started to put his attention on you again. "We went through a lot, and we still have each other. This has to mean something, Leon"

"Do you think this will pass?" he asks you, and for a moment, you saw that he was truly scared. This was unusual, too, but you had to be there for him. He needed you.

"Yeah, I do. I have nightmares too, sometimes I'm afraid to sleep, I don't want them to scare me" you said to him, your voice full of empathy and kindness, as the comfort words were everything he needed at the moment. Leon seemed to be surprised, but he remained silent. "Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and look for you, to make sure you're here with me and safe... I know they twist your mind and make you feel worse, but they aren't real, and they can't hurt you. This is what I tell myself every night"

Leon nods his head as he silently asks for a hug. Your arms were around him in a warm hug, like you can protect him from everything else in the world. You both watched the sunrise outside. It was such a beautiful morning like it was telling you to start again. Like you both had a new chance to start a new chapter in your life.

"When you leave the hospital, we can start again, you know?" you ask him, your eyes still looking outside.

"What do you mean by that?" Leon glances at you, his eyes shining even more. They were like sapphires, and they had their glow. Such a beautiful pair.

"I won't risk losing you. I'm considering retirement... I've had my share of danger. And I'm done with it" you explained to him very calmly, but you were sure about your decision. The government could find someone else.

"Are you sure about that?" Leon asks you again, as he considers your words. You nodded again to him, and for some reason, you knew what he was thinking. "Maybe we can buy that house we've always wanted... travel the world like tourists and... grow old together"

"You don't have to retire just because I want to. I know you love your job and the adrenaline that comes with it... but I can't do this anymore" you tell him, trying to convince him to don't do anything he might regret later.

"Sweetheart, I know one day I won't be able to wake up again and see a sunrise like this. This time, I only escaped because you were there with me... but who knows what will happen next?" Leon said, his voice full of determination and certainty. He squeezed your hand to let you know he was convinced. "And if you won't be there with me, then I don't want to go alone"

You knew you couldn't change his mind. He was the type of person who once decided something, he wasn't going back. On the other hand, it was a tremendous surprise to see he was willing to retire just for you. He wanted so badly to have peace and a happy ending that he would do that.

"When I was a kid, I used to think about what kind of man I'd grow up to be. I never thought my life would turn out this way" Leon sighed heavily, avoiding looking at you while he was rethinking his entire life. It wasn't a secret to you that he was an orphan, that his parents were killed, and he was left alone, saved by a cop, which led him to become one of them. You just knew. "I keep fighting... and fighting and fighting. Instead of seeing an end to this shit, it just keeps getting worse. Is this what my life is supposed to be? Fighting the living dead and the bastards that make them? What's the point of it all? It feels like I'm stuck in a goddamn loop... how much longer can we keep going on like this?"

And there he was.

The broken man you loved and tried to heal over and over, the man you saved a thousand times. The same man that carried this trauma since the day you met, the same pain in those beautiful sapphire eyes. He was done. And you both knew that. He reaches for your hand, a desperate way to seek comfort, to know you both share the same thoughts and feelings. He needed to hear that. He needed to be sure you were on the same page.

"You never seemed so angry about something before..." you smirk, seeing his face relax for a moment. He hated talking about Raccoon City.

"I'm angry because the government wiped the city off the map and covered it all up, I'm angry because there were people alive in there. There were families alive in there. And they didn't even try to get them out. They also said it was a tough call" Leon sighed again, he never spoke like that before, it was like he was hiding it inside him, waiting for the perfect opportunity to let it all out. He needed to get out of that off his chest. "So, tough call my ass! You can not save a country if you don't give a damn about the people in it"

Then he sighed again. He was keeping it inside his chest for so long that he felt great to speak his mind without being concerned about the consequences. It felt so good to finally be able to say whatever he wanted because he knew you wouldn't complain or say otherwise to him.

"So, yeah, that's why I want to retire as well. I'm so done with this that I don't want to spend the rest of my life chasing freaks and preventing the end of the world. They can find someone as good as me" he finally looks at you, seeking some kind of approval, although he didn't need one.

For some reason, you didn't have an answer. Everything he needed at the moment was told through your eyes because you both shared a connection that sometimes, words were unnecessary. Leon felt relaxed when he noticed the way you were looking at him because you didn't have to say a word.

"I just don't want an end that means a coffin or wasting time with things that I don't like. I want to end my life living peaceful days without being scared and traumatized... I want to be happy" Leon finished his vent with a sigh of pure relief. He leaned back his head against the pillow, feeling a bit exhausted.

"Then I promise you, sweetie, we'll have the happy ending we both deserve." you smiled gently at him, finding the proper words to express yourself and to make sure he felt embraced. He just smiled at you, his eyes shining again. "You know, we create such unnecessary pain for ourselves"

"What do you mean by that?" Leon raises an eyebrow, his face slowly confused. He was so adorable when he was like that.

"Remember when we first met? You asked me about my perception of what happened in there, and I told you I was elaborating... I think now I have the answer" you said to him, smiling again. It was weird to think about that after so many years, but finally, it would have some conclusions.

"Yes, and what's your answer?"

"We think we're a failure because no one loves us. It's like we only exist if there's someone who sees us. Our life only has worth if we're living for someone else" you explained to him, your eyes looking outside the window, as you think about everything and everyone. "That restlessness we feel? It's our souls crying out to be set free from all the deceit we've been forced to believe"

"Your perception of the world always amuses me. I wish I could see things the way you see them" his voice is kind. He always loved to hear you, to listen to your voice as it helped him calm down during his dark days. You were light to his darkness.

Your face slightly turns red. It was weird. You always love to tease him and make him blush, but when he does the same to you, oh, dear God... you can't even react. He's the only one that has the power to make you speechless, the one that makes you blush harder and the same that makes your heart beat faster inside your chest. This man was Leon Scott Kennedy, and he would always have your heart.

"I love you" he said to you before starting to close his eyes.

"I know"

[ineffablebookgirl]

No, but like, there was no way Inej was ever going to say, yes, okay, I'll stay in Ketterdam with you instead of looking for my brother. And Kaz knows this.

He literally just gave her the lead on where to start looking for her brother. He knows this has been her whole purpose for so long, just like avenging Jordie has been his. And she may actually be able to find some peace and happiness by achieving her goal, unlike Kaz, who is left adrift after completing his revenge.

Four times over the course of this season he sends her away. Her response to each one shows her own character development as well as the arc of their relationship.

The first time is when they first arrive back in Ketterdam and find out that Pekka Rollins now owns everything, including Inej. Kaz tells her to get out of the city and says, "This isn't your fight anymore," which, honestly is totally ridiculous to say that her own indenture contract is not her own business. Her response: "I'm not leaving you." Matter-of-fact, knee-jerk, and he doesn't argue. This feels like a well-worn routine for them.

Then we have the "bathroom scene," where her resolve and energy are refocused by Kaz telling her Pekka killed his brother. Before the main event, Kaz again tells Inej, if things go awry, get out of the city, find your brother, and never look back. Once again, she refuses to promise this. "I can only promise you that Pekka will beg for his death."

Then she makes the choice to get the trafficked women off the boat instead of being there in the shadows to watch over Kaz. I think he genuinely was upset that he didn't know that she was okay, and genuinely upset that she wasn't there to watch over him. But he uses those genuine emotions to push her away a third time. He has finally secured her freedom. He can finally really keep her safe, and the safest thing is for her to leave the city, because also, in securing her freedom, he has shown Pekka his hand, revealed his true "tell," which is his love for Inej. So he pushes her away again, this time more forcefully, by really hurting her. But, she gets drawn back in by the quest for the Neshyenyar. "You have your freedom. Why would this be what you choose to do with it?" "I'm not here for you. I'm here for Sankta Alina." It's a half truth.

Then we've got the toxin trips, which move both of them forward, but kind of in opposite directions. Even though for Inej it's her really confronting what she wants from Kaz, it's also confronting the reality that she is not going to get that from him, where he is right now. Just hours ago she saw him have a serious flashback / breakdown just from bumping into someone. And though she understands it, because of her own trauma, she also understands she can't save him from it.

So by the time we get to the end, Inej has made some kind of peace with this. She is leaving the phase of her own healing journey where she needs him to lean on as a fellow traveler, and where taking care of him serves as a way to avoid taking care of herself. And he, meanwhile, has had Inej rescue him from his trauma nightmare in reality at the teashop, in his toxin dream where she pulls him out of the water (oh, not to mention, literally saves his life by forcibly touching his face and making him eat the butterfly). And then he's had the philosophical talking-to from Ohval about how loving someone isn't a weakness, it's what makes life worthwhile. He is opening up slowly, confronting his feelings for her and how that vulnerability fits in with his life philosophy.

When he comes to say goodbye in the chapel, he is finally sincere. Finally him pushing her away isn't because of what he wants or needs emotionally, it's about what's best for her, which is being able to follow her own path to completion, the way she has enabled him to follow his Jordie path. And it's because he's in this place where he can finally, authentically let her go, that he can finally, authentically ask her to stay, out loud. All the other times he told her to leave, he was really asking her to stay. And now, when he is really ready to let her choose to leave, he is able to ask her to stay.

And she is also ready to say, yes, I am going to leave, for real this time, on my own path. Because I know that I actually need and deserve more from you now, and I know that you can make it without me, I am asking you to stand on your own two feet.

And of course he understands that too. Even with all the vulnerability and hope he allows himself in that moment, if she had said yes to staying with him, it would have felt wrong immediately.

She's not rejecting him, she's laying out her terms, which she's finally able to do because they are finally able to voice their true wants, both of them. (Yeah they both still have a looooong way to go, with healing and with not communicating via riddles and omissions).

It's also a narrative parallel to Alina letting Mal go on his own path. Both stories are about allowing the one you love to choose their path, be the main character in their own story.

So, I think this is a beautiful, if heartbreaking, end to their arc this season. Growth! Being together is not off the table, but they are one step closer to laying out what it would really look like for them to be together.

[wangxianpromptsgenerator]

Prompt 93: All the Time that we Lost.

Takes place in a Royalty Omegaverse AU, in which an unreciprocated bitting mark fades after 10 years.

Inspired by True Gold Fears no Fire by defractum

__

LWJ wore red at his wedding to Empress Jiang Wuxian. He still allowed himself a breach in tradition, by keeping his ribbon in place instead of handfasting during the ceremony.

(It was bad luck, and rumours flew about how this marriage was doomed from the start. He didn't care.)

His True Love, Wei Ying was dead, it didn't matter who he married. So he did his duty before leaving for War the day after.

(He never unveiled his bride).

Then by a twist of Fate, he was met by the face of his long lost Love upon his return. That successfully managed the state affairs in his absence and bore him a son.

(It sparked unrest, both in his heart and in his court.)

__

WWX didn't know what to think of this marriage.

He expected a lot of things, but perhaps, not being left with a fading bite mark, a pregnancy, and a ruined country to rule in his Husband's stead for 9 years.

And rule, that he did as he cleaned house and the People prospered under his Regency.

Then his Husband came back. It suited him, it left him one year for the transfer of power before he'd be able to annul his marriage and come back to Yunmeng Jiang. Gusu had their heir, so their alliance was cemented anyway.

His only regret was leaving back his little a-Yuan. (His son, his only joy in the Palace, that he raised by himself. It's not as if they'd never be able to visit, though.).

__

Additional Notes:

- LWJ has ONE YEAR to cement his marriage and get bonded back before he'll have to let it go. A faded unreciprocated bond mark is unreversible.

- There may be a couple of assassination attempts on LWJ since both his ministers and the people would rather keep WWX on the Throne. Despite LWJ being a famed General, he was still an unknown ruler, while WWX managed to resolve the food crises in Gusu and get the country out of poverty.

- LWJ fell in love during their teenagehood, when the Jiang siblings studied in the Cloud Recess.

- WWX saw LWJ as an old classmate. He agreed to their union for the Jiang's sake (JWY had no one else to offer, YMJ was in a delicate situation, his family and extended family were slaughtered by the Wens and JYL married into the Jins).

- Yes, JWY adopted WWX into his family before marrying him off. Which is why he is known as Empress JIANG WUXIAN. LWJ had no idea of who he was when they married.

- Some YMJ back story and why WWX is known under another name.

"Wei Ying", JWY's martial brother, beheaded Wen Chao when the Wens led a siege on YMJ. So WRH asked for his life in exchange for a cease-fire, which is why the death of "Wei Ying" was staged.

The reason behind YMJ marriage alliances is that their peace was precarious. Eventually a War broke again, and it lasted 9 years (of which, LWJ was on the front while WWX ruled the country as Regent).

- Lan Yuan is wangxian's biological son. He was conceived on their wedding night, in the dark. LWJ left at sunrise, and he only sees his family for his first time upon his return.

-LQR warmed up to WWX when he realised how diligent he was with his duties as an Empress. Despite his status as an Omega, WWX was initially meant to become JWY's right hand, so he was already familiar with politics. It also helped that a-Yuan was cute.

[juvenillia]

~ Death of Peace of Mind ~ 07: names

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

photo credits go to very talented @ave661

a/n: we have a big step ahead with that one and tbh I love it and I'm already kicking my feet at the chapters I'm writing just now... so excited to get e everything done and published

CW/TW: using of y/n (try to avoid it as much as possible though), mentions of blood, loss, violence, injuries, guilt

wordcount: 2.9k

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It took you some time to arrive at the safehouse. It was located even further at the east. You helped clean his wound and took a seat on the couch across the door. Your rifle was steady in your hands to be able to take care of uninvited guests. You didn’t hear from the other two teams in a while, therefore you started to get a bit nervous. You were ordered to go to the safehouse as soon as the target is down, and you had to follow your orders. But the urge to run after the others to see if they might needed backup was huge. “Calm doon.” [Calm down], Soap sat next to you, a protein bar in his palm and handing you one. “I am relaxed.” – “If ya say so.”, he smiled teasingly at you while you took the snack out of his hand. You knew they would be fine, but the pure thought that you were sitting here while they could need your help was a heavy weight, a burden on your shoulders.

Still, you sat here, with Soap by your side and waited. Waited for God knows how long it would take for the others to arrive. “Soooo…”, the Scot started poking his elbow in your side, and you glared at him, part of you jokingly. “Johnny, eh?”, he smiled widely at you. You couldn’t suppress a chuckle but got reminded how you treated him before. “Sorry…” – “Dinnea. I offered ye, ’s fine. Just the …”, you shook your head and made him stop. “That’s not what I mean. I’m sorry for my behavior.” You looked at him, your gaze filled with an apologetic glimpse, and he just smiled back at you. It wasn’t the toothy, cocky grin you usually would see; it was that genuine soft smile. “Maybe, we should just start again.”, he reached his hand out towards you, “Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish.” You smiled back at him and grabbed his hand, and shook it, “y/n ‘Skadi’ Quinn.” It didn’t hurt, it felt good, and so familiar. This could be a brand new start. For this team and for yourself.

“I think we need to kill some time, eh?”, Johnny leaned a bit further into the old couch, you nodded. “Let’s play a little game,” his statue was relaxed but his eyes never left the door in front of him. “Do I have a choice?” He chuckled, “Yer stuck with me, so not really.” – “What’s on your mind?” – “This or that. I tell ye two things and ye have to choose. To get to know each other. Y’know.” – “Bring it on.” Your figure relaxed a bit more, while listening closely to your teammate. “Driver or passenger?” – “Driver.” – “I can see that. Summer or Winter.” – “Fall.” – “ ’s not how it works, lass.” – “What? I don’t like either.” You threw the ball back and forth, you started to ask him a few questions and you chuckled about some way too obvious choices.

“Dark or blonde?”, you heard him asking again, but this one confused you, “Like what? Beer?” He let out a warmhearted laugh, “Nae bonnie. Like yer type”, he shook his head in sheer amusement. You shrugged, “Don’t have one.” – “Oh c’mon, everyone has a type to be into.”, he now faced you instead of the door. Searching in your face for some kind of hints. “To be honest, I don’t care much about looks…plus I’m not really into dating anyways.”, you said calmer than before, looking at him and then back to the door. Bringing some memories back you’d rather forget, but they’ll always stay a part of you. “Yer messin’ with me.” – “I’m not messing with you, MacTavish.”, you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Nae danger! Guys dinnea ask ye out? I mean yer braw as fuck. “[beautiful], his voice was filled with disbelief. “That’s not what I said.”, your cheeks became warmer, and you tilted your head a bit further away. Not wanting him to see your blush. “So, what is it then?” – “I simply don’t go. As I said, not into that kinda stuff.”

Johnny wanted to say something, but before he could, you heard a noise coming from outside. You instinctively went up, gripping your rifle, finger hovering over the trigger. The Scot moved over to the door, his weapon also in his hand. The door opened, and your body immediately relaxed as you noticed the familiar statue of the Lieutenant standing in the door frame. “Lt, yer made it!”, Johnny fist bumped his shoulder. “Thought anything differentx Sergeant?”, his tone was mocking and low, his eyes trailed over to you. This intense glare still presence in his dark eyes. “course not.”, Johnny smiled at him. “Where is Gaz?”, you asked him while relaxing your muscles furthermore. “Got separated.”, Ghost walked further into the room, Soap closing the door behind him. “Bet he’s alright. We heard from Price before.” Something felt off about him, not him in general but about his presence. You didn’t know it for sure, after all you didn’t know him. Maybe it was just the situation itself. Price told you about it, and after your talk, that one evening with Ghost, you knew that this team was everything to him, as well as to Price. So, you didn’t give it a second thought.

Johnny and the other man chatted slowly away; Ghost more listening to what the Scot had to say. Ghost sat on a wooden chair across the couch, where you were seated. Johnny circled through the room while telling the story of your bike ride and how he thought that you would actually get both of you killed. Ghost even chuckled a few times about Johnnys overly dramatic nature. But you couldn’t shake your doubts about Ghost’s presence away. You stood slowly up and walked over to him, a steady but determined step. If that would be a false track, it would lead into nothing than embarrassment, but the doubts clung to you. Stopping directly in front of him and putting yourself at his eye level. He tried to avert his gaze, but you placed your hand directly under his chin. Your fingers brushed over the fabric of his mask, forcing him to look back at you. “Bloody hell, woman.”, he hissed through gritted teeth and tried to push your hand away. Your eyes widen for a second as you stare in his eyes. “Where?”, you voice was stern, but not cold, rather concerned.

“What the…”, Johnny looked at the scenery on front of him completely flabbergasted. You only ignored Soap because you knew Ghost already understood, “Sir, I asked you a question.”, you let go of his chin. You noticed earlier that something was off, but now, you were sure. He had some kind of poison running through his blood. His eyes showed it. They were stained yellow and slightly red. You had seen it before. “Doesn’t matter.” – “Due all respect but don’t bullshit me. Where?”, you spit at him. Did he rather wanted to hide an injury than showing weakness in front od you? He nearly growled back, but turned on the chair to reveal his back that was slightly blood stained. Nearly not noticeable through the dark clothes and layers. “Lt. Why dinnea yer say something?”, Johnny asked in disbelief. He just exhaled deeply, annoyed. “Whatever is in there, we need to get it out.”, you crouched down next to him.

“Permission for me to perform first aid.”, you looked back at him, and he just nodded. You pulled out one of the med kits of your vest. While Ghost took his tactic vest off and pulled his bodice up to reveal the wound. “Let’s get yer friend out, eh, Lt.?”, Johnny teased while handing you some clean alcohol wipes. You could feel how tense your Lieutenant was as you brushed over his bloody spot at the lower back. You tried your best to get the bullet out without causing any more pain, but a bullet that deep was never to be extracted without sorrow. You could hear him groan whenever you moved with the sharp metal in his flesh. “Just a little longer, you’re doing just fine.”, you soothed while you placed your gloved free hand a bit higher on his back. You couldn’t help it, but your gaze wandered over his perfect toned back, clinging at all his scars, any of them telling a story you would gladly listen to, before turning you attention back to the cause of the whole misery. All his muscles were tense, and you could feel them flex with every movement. This situation was intense but somehow not uncomfortable. You could hear him deeply groan once in a while. You whispered some more sweet nothings into his directions, telling him that everything would be fine in a few, and he stayed silent, besides the huffing and groaning.

“Alright Ghost. Let’s stitch you up.”, you said relieved. You handed the bullet over to Johnny, who started to observe the little metal. “Just get it done, already.”, he hissed with a relieved but still stern voice. “Uhu, as long as I praise you, you’re taking it without a word, but now you’re all commanding again, huh?”, you chuckled while preparing the needle. He only snarled, and you knew the amused laugh from Johnny wouldn’t ease his mood. “I think the bullet is soaked with lead acetate.”, Soap said while putting it aside. “Fuckin’ bastards.”, Ghost groaned again as you let the needle carefully slide through his flesh. “You should still get checked properly.”, you said while completing the last stitch and standing up from your position. “Should be fine for now.” He’s turning his body slightly to you, sitting straight back on the chair. When he looked up, he’s greeted with something that really left him astonished. His eyes just a millimeter widened. You’re standing in front of him, eyes closed trustfully, your lips tugged upwards into a genuine beam. It was different then before. He felt different than before. Maybe it was just the adrenaline. “Bonnie, Lt. The evac is here.”, Johnnys voice dragged you back to the here and now. He came to pick up Ghost’s gear as well as his own, and all of you walked over to the jeep.  

The rest of the day went calm by. Price and Gaz were alright, Ghost was in the infirmary, Soap took a long nap at one of the couches at the common room. You sat there reading your book, as Price walked in. “Kyle will start decoding the intel we collected tomorrow. Would you help him?”, he said while sitting down in his armchair. “Sure. Two heads are better than one.”, you said, not looking up from your book. Price glance lingered onto the deep asleep Scot. “You did good today. I’m proud of you.”, he said, averting his gaze towards you. “Thanks, Cap.”, you buried your face behind your book. “How’s the Lieutenant?”, face still behind the book, blush creeping over your cheeks. “Good, thanks to you. Already bragging to leave the infirmary.”, he chuckled while grabbing a book himself while you placed yours down. “I’ll head out for a smoke and call it a day then.”, you say while stretching your limbs out. “Don’t smoke too much. Could get you killed.” – “You’re the one talking. Plus, I believe we’re doing by far deadlier things.”, you laughed while leaving, which earned you a chuckle from him, slowly fading away as you walked through the hallway. Maybe lowering your guard around them wasn't even bad at all.

You sat at the wooden terrace, leaning back on your elbow, dragging at the fag between your fingers and watching some recruits making their evening jogs while the sun was still up. A huge relaxation running through your muscles. This team wasn’t so bad, this place wasn’t so bad. Maybe you should give this therapy thing another go. Maybe you could handle it yourself. You didn’t know, but you knew that you slowly grew to like it here. Your head fell slightly back, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. “Mind if I join?”, you immediately noticed his deep voice and shook your head no. You sat in silence next to each other, it wasn’t an awkward silence. Your eyes sometimes moved to his side, and you wondered, you wondered what the person behind that mask would be like. You wore a mask yourself for a long time. It made you help draw a difference between yourself and your ‘in-battle-persona’, a sharp line between your emotions and orders. Even if this line melted through the years and you became more yourself, you still wear a mask sometimes. Still, wearing it, not like before, but it helps.

When his head tilted into your direction, you caught yourself staring again, and so did he, so you instantly forced your eyes to look ahead again. He exhaled deeply. Were he nervous? You couldn’t tell, but before you could lose yourself in your thoughts again, you heard his voice again, “Thanks... for today.” You blinked in confusion before the corner of your lips tugged up, “Anytime.” His statue crumbled a bit, and you could see how his hands fidgeting with something in his pocket. Clearly, to say that his sheer presence made you nervous. Something you could completely shove aside on missions; you felt it all the more now. “Never heard of the brand yer smoking.”, his accent was thick, and you looked up at him, a bit confused. “It’s…”, before you could answer, he held out something to you, what made you stop immediately. His head is still facing forward. “Ya left it that one night on the patio.”

You instantly grabbed the box, and a deep exhale of relief left your throat. “Bloody hell, I thought I lost it.”, you chuckled a bit nervous. A quick glance if everything would be still in it and to your fortune it was still there. You didn’t take the necklace out, not wanting him to see how desperately you were to feel this cold metal against your skin again. Then you took another cigarette and held it over for him. “Want to try one?”, your tone was soft. No thought was wasted that he might feel uncomfortable to smoke in your presence. You knew from Johnny that he indeed did smoke, but you also knew that Ghost literally clung to his mask, and he definitely wouldn’t take it off around you. That you respected, still he took the cigarette out of your grip. You held out your lighter to ignite the fag between his hands. You didn’t look his way as he slightly pulled his mask up, just above the lips. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, still you stole a small glimpse of his well-shaped jaw. A slightly stubble covering his skin. You stared again as he blew out some smoke. Your eyes were dragged to him like moths to the light. You couldn't help it.

“Who was he?”, the question totally dragged you back, your gaze now lingering on the wooden box in your hand. A sorrowful sigh permeates through your lips. “Who?”, your question was pathetic and unnecessary. You knew he would've taken a look in the box; you knew he would see the tag, but still, you hoped he meant something different. “Randy Ellison.”, his voice was still stern but not as cold as you were used to it. Your head fell back once again while you let a cloud of smoke out. You could easily ignore it. You could easily lie... “Droplet. He was a teammate before I joined you guys. Saved my life…more then he ever knew...” Ghost nodded, “A teammate…”, his voice was so uncommon. It made you feel strangely safe. It pierced right through the ice that you tried to create so badly. “More like a brother… one I never wanted but somehow needed…”, you added while puffing out again, a little smile appearing on your lips. “I see....”, his tone was so pure. Your eyes trail over to his figure. Yes, he was still the stoic figure you got to know. But these two little words held so much weight in it. “We have no choice then keep going, huh? That’s what they would want us to.”, he now tilted his head slightly and pulled his balaclava back down, pressing the fag out on the patio. “Seems like you’re right, Ghost.”

You hugged your knees, pulling them close to your chest. Your head rested on them while you watched the sky slowly turn red and orange. You kept sitting here for a while in this solace silence. You never thought that his presence could be something different than intimidating, nearly soothing. All of a sudden, he broke this silence once more, “Simon.”, you lifted your head into his direction again, and you found his eyes already on your figure. Just now, you realized how beautiful deep brown his iris was. Your gaze switching between his two eyes. A bit taken aback from the situation and even more confused. His expression was not really nervous, but also not relaxed. He knew that it was a big, big step forward for both of you, but if Johnny could trust you, after Price already did, he should give it a try. Even if it only was for the sake of them. “'s Simon.”, he repeated, his eyes never moving away from yours. This intense eye contact made you feel lightheaded. You blinked a few times before your face relaxed. “y/n.”, you smiled at him, and you could’ve sworn that you could see the black fabric of his mask move the slightest, just above the spot where his lips stayed hidden.

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