#I remember reading one of those ''how to draw'' books a few years back

[rileys-battlecats]

I love how you changed Wrentail’s design slightly by making him more rounded. Mudpaw is spikey but is really a sweetheart, and Wrentail being rounded making you think he’s a decent cat when in actuality he’s a monster. Really drives the theme never judge a book by its cover

Yes!! That's exactly what I was going for!!

[sugurusyndrome]

cw/tags: househusband!nanami, fluff, smut, fem!reader

— oh househusband!nanami my love…

househusband!nanami initially resisted the idea of being a stay at home husband when you first proposed it. aghast, he might even say. he couldn’t fathom the possibility of being dependent upon your income. not that his masculinity was threatened or anything of the sort. you were the one supposed to be spoiled while he does the hard work.

your husband was traditional in a quite endearing sense. bless his giant heart and his even bigger cock.

“darling, i want to do this. for us,” you had gently insisted. reaching forward, you took off his spectacles and brushed a hand around his cheek. “you deserve to be pampered, too.”

househusband!nanami was exhausted from the long hours over many years and he knew his wife was sorely aware of that fact. he leaned into your touch, hazel eyes slipping shut.

“alright, my love.”

it took some adjusting to his new role during the first few days. when your alarm rang, you swiftly silenced it so he wouldn’t wake up. looking over your shoulder, you find his side of the bed empty.

househusband!nanami had gotten dressed as usual before remembering he didn’t need to work anymore. instead of going back to bed, he whipped up a breakfast feast fit for a queen. he also sent you off to your big-shot job with a kiss and your lunch.

soon enough, this became a routine. a hearty breakfast followed by a “see you later” kiss—kento didn’t like saying goodbye, it’s always “see you later.” househusband!nanami wanted to bring a smile to your hectic days so he stuck an adorable note in his neat handwriting squarely on your lunchbox. he never ran out of words to express his love for you.

househusband!nanami was finally able to tackle the books that had accumulated on his side of the bedroom but never had the chance to read. you could only imagine how he looked like, all cozy. in the nook of the living room where the sun shone best, he had one leg tucked under his body with his glasses perched on his sharp nose.

when he was not devouring words, househusband!nanami was taking himself on a stroll in the neighbourhood with a cup of a pick-me-up coffee. once, he passed a park and sat at a bench watching the mothers playing with their children with a soft smile. however, he quickly walked away because he realized his presence as a sole man just lingering at the edge of the park might be a cause of concern for the mothers. you giggled later over dinner when he recounted his thoughts to you. what a thoughtful man you married.

you wanted to give him 10 children.

if not books or a stroll in the neighbourhood, househusband!nanami was doing his duty ever so happily between your legs.

"k-ken..." you whimpered, back arching gracefully while your nails scraped his undercut in a way that made him growl into your pussy. he knew how much you loved the vibrations as much as he went crazy for your nails on his scalp. "missed this pussy today....mmm...” he captured your clit in a wet, hungry kiss. “take tomorrow off for me, sweetheart.”

this part of the night quickly cemented its spot as his favourite. to absolutely neither of your surprises.

househusband!nanami became fast friends with the owners of your favourite bakery. they already knew him from his frequent visits after his long shifts to pick up something sweet for his wife but the more he hung out there, the closer he got with the bakers. you were particularly fond of the strawberry shortcake from there and what did he do? oh yes, he learned how to make it. everything was from scratch down to the syrup. by the end of it he was sticky but super excited to surprise you with it for your birthday.

"honey, those better be happy tears," he chuckled, drawing you into a tender hug. either that, or the cake turned out to be a disaster.

"of course they are, kento!" you blubbered in his chest. strawberry syrup and whipped cream was smeared around your mouth, mixing with your tears.

oh, how you adored this man to his bare bones. and he devotedly breathed in the very air you exhaled.

[venusacrossthestars]

your hands in mine

Pairings- Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

WC-1k

warnings- fluff, thunderstorm, 1 sexual-ish innuendo

A/N: this is something special for @arieslost and her obsession with hands, especially Charles' hands. I wrote this and am posting in today (3/12) in honor of our 3 years of friendship. I wouldn't be who I am without her. nyoom duo till the end.

f1 masterlist

The roll of thunder is what startles you out of your slumber. Senses clouded by the lingering effects of sleep. For a moment you are unsure as to where you were. This looked nothing like your apartment. Another wave of thunder brought back the realization, I spent the night at Charles’. 

You and the Monégasque driver had spent the entire day together, doing everything and nothing. He had a week off between races and was adamant about spending it all with you, not that you were complaining. This night had been no different. The two of you had gone out for a nice dinner, a little local spot near Charles’ flat that had live music. Your walk home was filled with a comfortable silence, which was one of your favorite things about being with Charles. The two of you didn’t need to be in constant conversation with each other, just each other presence was enough. 

The peacefulness followed the both of you as you worked through the motions of your nightly routine. Yours ended with reading a few chapters of whatever book you were reading and Charles practicing the piano. Kissing him before you each went off to do your own routine was the last thing you could fully remember. You must’ve fallen asleep out on the balcony and Charles must’ve carried you to bed. 

Turing over in Charles’ arms was a task easier said than done. Anytime the two of you spooned his arms would magically become vice grips, impossible to get out of. However, Charles must have been equally, if not more, beat than you. The rain helping lull him to sleep as it had done to you, his arms were lax across your middle, making it easier to roll over to your opposite side. 

As the wind picked up, a cool breeze swept through the open windows making you nestle further into Charles’ bare chest. Your hands coming to rest across his chest. Another thing to love about him, he always slept shirtless. It was impossible to deny how handsome Charles was, and contrary to popular belief of the media, you weren’t with Charles only for his looks and fame, though it was a perk. You didn’t care about any of those things. When he was with you he wasn’t Charles Leclerc Prince of Ferrari, he was just Charles and that’s all you needed. 

The rain began to pour harder and you couldn’t restrain yourself from staring at Charles’ sleeping figure, it was as if Michelangelo personally carved him out of marble. His sharp features only a tad more relaxed in his slumber. Shamelessly, you move your hand from his chest and lightly begin to trace his face with the backside of your hand, carefully trying not to wake him. Content with your mapping skills you move your hand back to his chest, now mindlessly drawing shapes into his tan skin. 

You continued your drawing, listening to the sounds of the storm as it raged on, lost in your own world. You would’ve stayed like that for longer if it wasn’t for a practically bright flash of lightning followed by a wave of thunder that had enough force to shake the room. This startled Charles from his slumber, which in turn startled you. 

“We should close the window before the floor gets all wet,” Charles mumbled out, still in the clutches of sleep. 

“Too comfy, don’t wanna move,” you mutter into his skin. 

Charles slides out from under you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. 

“I’m going to be right back, mon cheri, do not worry.” 

With your eyes well adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom, you can make out the outline of Charles’ back, along with the muscles that flex as he closes the window and redraws the curtains that have been blown open. You watch shamelessly. How can a man be that perfect? 

“See something you like?” Charles teases, standing at the foot of the bed. 

“Best view in the city.” Your answer seems to satisfy Charles as he climbs back into bed, back to your previous position. 

Now, instead of your hands tracing Charles’ features it is Charles whose hands soothingly roam your arm. On one particular ticklish pass of his hand, you let out a small giggle and before he can go back to try and tickle you again you grab his hand. 

With his hand in yours, you bring it to your lips and press small kisses against each of his knuckles. Happy with the amount of kisses you have given him you bring his hand back down and absent-mindedly play with his fingers. Charles, still awake, says nothing and continues to let you do as you please. 

“I love your hands,” you admit. 

“I know,” he chuckles out, “I like my hands too, especially when they are wrapped around your throat.” 

You gasp at the statement, “you pervert. I’m complimenting you and your head is stuck in the gutter.” 

“It always is when you’re around.” 

You roll your eyes at his comment and he pinches your side in retaliation, “you can’t even see what I did.” 

“I know you, and I know you just rolled your eyes at me.” 

Well, he’s got you there. You stop messing around with his fingers and now it is Charles’ turn to fiddle with yours. He copies your motions, bringing your hand to also kiss each knuckle. Instead of stopping as you did with his, he lightly massages the meat of your palm. 

You are fighting the feeling of sleep, but it is a losing battle between the massage Charles is giving you and sound of the rain hitting the now closed window. Charles mutters something that your foggy brain is unable to catch. 

Laced with sleep you ask, “what did you say?” 

“Just that I love your hands too.” Charles says while kissing your ring finger but you are too far gone to hear the last part. “And one day I’ll put a ring on your finger and be able to call you mine forever.”

[catskets]

From Desires to Demo: How to Write a Good Demo for your Visual Novel

I'm deciding I want to expand on some topics in longer, fuller-length posts based on points I made in this general VN development post.

There is a problem that players have expressed to me about visual novel demos, especially in horror/romance/yandere circles these days: they are not demos at all. Rather, they feel like introductions to the characters and the setting, and nothing happens at all. No one wants to have to go find out everything good about your game by going to your Tumblr and going through 10+ months of asks to get themselves hyped up for your game. Most people are not going to do that. They will instead play your demo and go "this isn't enough for me to come back to" and never think about it again.

How, then, do you get people playing your demo and being excited for the full game? This is my personal guide on how to make a compelling visual novel demo.

In case you've never heard of me, I'm Kat, also known as catsket. I have a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Game Design. I've been making games for nearly 5 years, and I've been doing visual novels more "professionally" for 2. You may know me for Art Without Blood, 10:16, God is in the Radio, or Fatal Focus. I'm here to help you make your first visual novel, or, perhaps, improve on what you've already made.

What is the purpose of a demo?

A demo is short or a demonstration. Your job is to demonstrate a portion of your game to players. In more "traditional" games, a demo typically takes place in a very tightly-constricted space that is meant to show off how the game feels. Maybe this is the first few levels of a platformer that showcases the general atmosphere and gameplay of the game.

We aren't making action and adventure games in explorable spaces. We are making visual novels. Most visual novel demos just showcase a small portion of the game, maybe the first few scenes.

What your demo should have is this:

A general vibe for your game. You're writing a psychological horror game. Give me a taste of that! Show me a bit of the gore, a bit of the horror.

A sense of urgency. A lot of demos I've played and discarded have been discarded because the game itself does not give me a motivation

An established plot. What is going to happen in the future? Why am I in this world?

In general, think of your game as the back cover of a book. That's where the hook that draws you in to read it. Just give me a proper taste of your game!

There are cases in traditional games where things are hidden from the player in demos (let's all remember MGS2) and where things are changed in from the demo to the final product. That's perfectly okay! You are not obligated to update your demo unless you find gamebreaking bugs and other issues. If things change from the demo to the final product, let your players be surprised and intrigued by these changes!

I can make this a list of do's and don'ts:

Before writing your demo...

Do: Outline, plan, and everything else.

Unless you're blessed by Mnemosyne herself, you need to outline where your story is going to go.

When starting a project, I write a 1-2 page document that has this information:

Name of the game

The target audience

The genre and moods

A paragraph summary of the game

1-2 sentences describing main characters and their roles

Write a short scene that captures the essence of the game

Write a basic outline. You don't need to fit everything in and outline it all, but give yourself an idea. A beginning, a middle, a climax, and an end. Some people just write the start and the finish, and then the middle gets all muddled and convoluted.

While writing your demo....

Do: Make it clear how the choices will impact the game

Visual novels are a medium where player choices affect the game. Make sure those choices actually matter. They don't all have to, of course. They might matter later in the game, but you should at least try to write an example of how a choice may matter.

For example, in Art Without Blood's new demo, certain choices mean you meet the characters in a different order and experience different sides of them.

Having a certain amount of a sanity stat will cause characters to give you some flavor text.

Here's a very simple idea: if you're running your game on a "love points" or other points system, you can make it so if player gets 10 points with love interest, get a different scene. It shows that your choices are impactful. Just let players have a taste of the consequences of their actions.

Don't: Character dump.

Many demos I have played were just character dumps. This means using the demo just to introduce to us the characters but not giving them room to truly show their personalities or their attachments to the problem.

For example, I played a game recently that had the player complaining about their living situation, showing us the characters in the same living complex, showed off the yandere, and then had the player deal with an annoying, evil boss. That sounds like lots of games, right? And that doesn't sound very fun, does it?

Do: Ground the player in the world

Try to immerse your player character in your world. I want to read like I'm part of it. What is our purpose? If we are a stranger, how can you immerse us in a world so far removed from ours?

Do it slowly, and do it with necessity. You don't necessarily want an exposition dump either.

Establish the world, establish the conflict, establish why they got into this conflict, and leave us off with a reason to come back.

Don't: Make your players have to visit other sites to get important information

Your ask blogs or other social medias should contain supplemental material that keeps players engaged, but it should not be a place where you should go "well, actually, in the demo, x y and z should have happened but it didn't."

Try not to spoil your game on your socials. What's the point of playing if I can just read it all on your blog?

I should learn about the plot and the characters from the game itself. I should not have to get a sense from your blog about a character because they were so dry in the demo.

Obviously, this isn't to say you need to include everything about a character in your demo. But we need to get a sense of personality. I shouldn't have to go to Tumblr to find that personality.

Do: Ask for help

Making a game on your own, especially for the first time, is scary. It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to get people to help you out with parts you aren't so familiar with. It doesn't make you any less of a developer. A lot of people need some degree of help. There is nothing wrong with that.

Don't: Start your marketing until you know you can finish the demo

I've seen lots of demos that have been in the works for years. It can be disappointing for fans and demotivating for the developer to have an idea, tell the world, and then not see a demo for a long time. This is especially the case when money is involved, but it's still irresponsible to promise a product and never deliver it. Be honest about the status of projects and your life.

Do: Outline content warnings properly

It is up to the player to decide if they think they're capable and ready to play your game. Make sure to outline your content warnings. Cover the basics, and feel free to leave an extended warnings list in your game or on your game page for specifics.

Content warnings are usually things like blood/violence, profanity, sexual content, etc. Trigger warnings typically get into specific things, like suicide, dentists, or religious trauma. Think of content warnings like the ERSB.

Put a splash screen before the game starts that showcase the content warnings and a place to find trigger warnings.

Don't: Pull back punches with what your characters are capable of

It's fiction. It doesn't necessarily mean you support your characters being crazy stalkers. Know the audience you want to write for, and don't feel a need to cower. Let them be filthy. Let them get their hands deep into someone's chest cavity and rip a body apart.

What I'm trying to say is you really shouldn't tone down what you think your characters are capable of because you're afraid of making fans sad or upset because pookie isn't acting the way they thought pookie acted in their head. It's your character. You're commanding the story. You are choosing where it goes, not fans. Just because you have an audience doesn't mean you need to tone it down to be more palpable to others.

Once your demo is released...

Do: Keep a balance

Making games is very, very hard. And the world is very, very harsh. It is okay to let your fans know about delays or potential cancellations, such as through the devlogs on itch.io for your game, in your community spaces, or on your blog. Please be honest. If you do not think that, after a demo's release, you can continue on the project, make it clear that it has been cancelled or on hiatus.

People will be understanding. The world sucks, and it sucks the life out of us. People are more forgiving if you are honest with the status of your game, rather than leaving it in a perpetual limbo.

Don't: Think that the popularity of your demo constitutes how "good" your game is.

Your demo may not do well. That could be a number of factors. Maybe your marketing didn't hit where you think it should have. Maybe you posted it at the same time as another game. Not your fault. The full release may do better. Don't let the numbers be the reason you give up.

Do: Network!

Get to know fellow developers in the space so you can learn from one another and get more ideas for improving your own games.

Don't: Use developers.

Use a developer's resources. You should not be making friends with other devs if your desire is to try and become friends with big people. That's a parasocial relationship, buddy!

Do: Tell your fans the course of action

Do you have a development timeline set up? Writing multiple days? Give fans a general outline that you planned before writing your demo. It's okay to miss things as long as you're honest. But a timeline will help you hold accountability for yourself.

Don't: Charge for it.

I've seen at least 3 games take the "I'm going to charge for a demo" route in an effort to sway children from playing the game. This is going to sway everyone. Especially if players have not seen a complete + finished product from you, they will not be buying an unfinished game. There are other ways to hide your games from children, such as using itch.io's adult content filters and applying them to your projects.

Main takeaway: Be honest.

I say this a lot throughout this post, but it's because it pushes on a particular trend I see in beginner visual novel developers. There's this desire to create, but there is also the desire for fandom centered around what characters and world spawn from your creations. To maintain that fandom, you need to create. You need to be consistent. It may be harsh, but it's the reality.

Life is hard, and a large majority of us are NOT doing this for a living. Life will get in the way. It always has, it always will.

That's why it's good to practice integrity. Know yourself and your limits. Take steps back and be willing to be open + honest.

Fans won't be happy if you keep saying a game is delayed and show little to no work. Posting unrelated artwork and spending months answering Tumblr asks instead of making a game will eventually run you in the mud without anyone to enjoy what you have the potential to create.

Live up to your promises, and if you can't, be honest. Your community will support you as long as you're open.

[onlymingyus]

Bound to You (fall-ing for you collab)

pairing; yoon jeonghan x f!reader 

genre; smut (minors dni), angst, supernatural au, soulmate au

warnings; warlock!jeonghan, wonwoo side character/family member, mentions of magic, curses, death/murder, auras, soulmates, death of parents, complicated family dynamics, borrowed story point from Goblin, protected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), cum eating, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, very light bondage in the form of binding hands/tying to the bed, marking/biting, pet names, aftercare

w/c; 12.9k and some change 

svthub fall-ing for you collab masterlist 

a/n; thank you to @wonwussy and @wooahaeproductions for beta/proofreading -- if you have been following me for a while you might notice this fic is in the same universe as Lavender Tea and Honey. I hope you enjoy this. 

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

Jeonghan’s slender fingers run over the pages of the book in front of him as he lifts the cup to his lips. The warm vanilla latte runs down the back of his throat before he settles the cup onto the table, getting lost in his own world once again. 

Two weeks and three days—that was how long Jeonghan had been in this new town. He didn’t hate it but it was different than where he had lived before. He didn’t mind being around his extended family. He was enjoying the benefits of their cafe and the quiet ambiance that came along with the little corner he had stuck himself into but there were reasons he had ended up here. 

Say one thing wrong when you are what Jeonghan and his family are and know the wrong people, you might end up cursed or dead. It wasn’t entirely Jeonghan’s fault that he had the attitude or the mouth that he had. No, those were passed down to him by his parents as parting gifts.

Maybe this would be better in the long run… Jeonghan thought to himself as he traced a small doodle he had scribbled in the margins of his book a few years ago. A fresh start never hurts anyone. A little peace and quiet never hurts anyone. 

“Hi Wonwoo. Can I get —” 

“A chai tea latte?” 

Your laugh is soft and like bells, drawing Jeonghan’s attention up towards the counter. He hadn’t paid much attention to his cousin's work or anyone else ordering but for some reason now he couldn’t look away. Jeonghan watched as you tilted your head at the tall, dark headed barista. It wasn’t like you were flirting with the man; instead, it was clear you were friends. 

“Yeah, please. Am I that predictable?”

Wonwoo grins, turning from you to start making your order. His hands are precise with years of training and muscle memory. You came in almost every day and almost every day you got the same drink. So yeah, you were predictable. 

“You want the truth or do you want me to just make your latte?” 

Jeonghan watches, not realizing a smile had caused his lips to lift at either side. You were effortlessly beautiful. The type of beautiful that someone doesn’t even realize how beautiful they are until someone explains it to them. 

“Mm, my latte. If I want the truth, I’ll visit my family.” 

Sliding the exact change across the wooden counter, you smile at Wonwoo once more before turning to lean against it. The barista laughs as the sound of milk steaming causes you to feel warm from your head to your toes. You loved this cafe. Not just for the drinks but for every part of it—the employees, the other patrons, the sounds, the smells, and the familiarity.  

Hearing Wonwoo’s gentle, deep sigh, you turn back towards him, taking the cup from his hands. With a soft thank you, you turn towards your usual table to find the usual familiarity of your favorite cafe is broken. A man with dark hair and eyes watches you from your usual corner, a slight smile on his lips that makes the pit of your stomach feel deeper. 

The feeling is a confusing one. It wasn’t a feeling of dread. Not even a feeling of fear. Instead, this was a feeling somewhere between anxiety and desire. Smiling back at him, you quickly lower your gaze, deciding to pick a table close to where you usually sit out of the desire to be close to your favorite spot and this unfamiliar man. 

When you smile at him Jeonghan feels his breath get caught in his throat. He was no stranger to women. He knew he was attractive and charming so the fact that you caused such a reaction from him with just a simple smile and your mere existence was baffling. Taking in a deep breath, Jeonghan watches you walk closer towards a table next to him to take a seat. The calming scent of your chai tea latte wafting to his nose causes him to let out a soft sigh as he lowers his eyes to his table in an attempt to not make you feel uncomfortable. 

The overwhelming desire to look up at you, watch you, or perhaps speak to you was causing Jeonghan’s stomach to twist into a knot. Licking his lips, Jeonghan closed his eyes, his fingers shakily spreading across the wooden table in front of him as he tried to bite back on his whims when your voice shocked him out of his trace. 

“Your latte smells delicious. I’m always so tempted to try something new, especially something vanilla, but I’m a creature of habit, I suppose.” 

Smiling into an amused scoff, Jeonghan is ready to answer you before he meets your eyes but that is when any intelligent thought he once had fades into nothingness. He hadn’t noticed it before. Perhaps you were too far away? Perhaps it had been because you hadn’t spoken to him yet but a ribbon like maroon aura was spirling around your left arm and hand. 

“I–what?” 

Furrowing your brows, you wonder if you had read the room entirely wrong when the man speaks to you. He had seemed so confident not a moment before and now he seemed awkward and confused. Swallowing hard, your eyes downward at your own cup, you run your left index finger around the rim of the cup, not having the courage to look back over at him just yet. 

“Just…was talking about your drink. Making conversation. I’m sorry if you wanted to just be alone. You were looking at me; I thought it would be okay to talk to you.” 

Jeonghan shook his head at your words. He didn’t want you to be sorry. The knot in his stomach was so tight, he felt like he could fold in half if he didn’t figure this out. He had seen auras before but they were rare. 

Usually, if witches or warlocks were going to do something unthinkable, they would give off an aura of danger to those who could see them. Humans could give off auras if they were considering ending their lives or if they were bringing new life into the world. Jeonghan had only seen a handful of auras in witches, warlocks, or humans in his entire life, and they had never been focused around someone’s hand like yours was. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to leave me alone. You just–-it’s really impossible to explain. You were talking about my drink. I get the same one every time too. I’m so used to the taste; it's familiar. What is your name?” 

Smiling a bit to yourself as the man rambles, you take a sip of your drink, letting out a pleased sound to the taste before licking your lips of the sweet foam. You're startled by how handsome the man truly is when you finally lift your head to see his eyes.

“I’m–my name?” You had one—a name. At least you had one up until the moment before you looked up into the man’s eyes. Now you weren’t sure if you remembered how to breathe, much less speak or think straight. 

Jeonghan smiles, feeling himself becoming more enamored with you as you look confused and as scattered as he had felt just a moment ago. Did you feel it too? The sudden, odd connection? Biting at his bottom lip, Jeonghan slides his chair closer to your table, turning it towards you as his fingers delicately trail along the handle of his cup. 

Your eyes are drawn to his fingers; your pretty eyes are almost entranced by the movement as you take a steady breath, seeming to come back to reality. “Y/N. I’m Y/N.” 

You hadn’t asked for his name but Jeonghan didn’t mind. You were looking at him like he was the first and last thing you wanted to see on any given day and he knew the feeling. Taking his own deep breath, Jeonghan glances back down at your fingers and the maroon ribbon of magic swirling around them. 

“I’m Jeonghan. It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” 

Your name on Jeonghan’s lips was better than any music you had heard in a long time. It was reverberating in your ears, causing goosebumps to erupt along your skin. He was so handsome that you were having a hard time keeping your thoughts organized. Everything seemed jumbled, speeding towards him, and at the same time, everything was in slow motion around you. 

“I–” You laugh softly, shyly looking down, before you force yourself to look back at Jeonghan once again and into his pretty dark eyes. “It’s nice to meet you too. I come here all the time, and I feel like I would have seen you here before. Are you new to town?” 

Meeting your eyes, Jeonghan can’t help the way his smile exposes his enthusiasm. He wanted to play it cool and be some attractive man you had met in the coffee shop that you would pine after for weeks. Instead, he couldn’t help feeling like some schoolboy with a crush as his stomach tightened when you smiled back at him.  

Leaning his arm on the table, Jeonghan bites at his bottom lip, drawing your attention towards it briefly before he laughs almost as if he’s trying to consider his next words carefully. His eyes move past you towards the counter where Wonwoo was talking to a customer before he furrows his brows and shakes his head. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve visited before. Many times, actually. My family…extended family owns this shop. Wonwoo is my cousin; it seems like you know him pretty well. I just recently moved here, though. I’ve been spending a little more time here in the shop, at least for the past week or so.” 

That made more sense to you as you nodded along, staying quiet. Your eyes move to Wonwoo, who seems to notice, giving you a friendly smile, only to glance towards Jeonghan with a curious look in his eye. There was a bit of caution laced in his gaze but he didn’t seem to linger, instead going back to his tasks. 

“I see, I was out of town a couple days. I normally come in almost every day to get my drink so I probably would have seen you sooner.” 

You smile again, making Jeonghan swallow hard. There was no way that if you had stepped into this cafe before today, he would have missed you. There could be 100 people surrounding him now and he would find you again. 

Looking down at his own drink, Jeonghan lets out a soft, breathy laugh as you seem to study him, waiting for what he will say next with baited breath. You had never cared that much about anything anyone would say. It wasn’t like you needed a partner. It wasn’t like you came to this cafe or any cafe for that matter, looking for someone to be with. Especially not someone that you needed to speak to you so that you could breathe, but that is how it felt after just fifteen minutes of sitting at a table near Jeonghan. 

“I wish you could have come in sooner...  Fuck, I can’t explain what I’m about to say. I–I swear, I’m not a creep.” 

Almost afraid to meet your eyes, Jeonghan laughs, only to fall silent when you shake your head, letting out your own soft laugh. 

“For some reason, and I really can’t explain why I’m even saying this but I think no matter what you are about to tell me...I think I’ll understand. I sound like a crazy person.” 

Jeonghan shakes his head this time, lifting his eyes to yours to meet them with a persistent look, trying to shake away that feeling from you. You weren’t crazy. He knew crazy; he had met crazy, and that wasn’t you. Crazy couldn’t hide from him. 

"No, you don’t. Not to me. I was going to say I’d like to get to know you better. Could I get your number? I’d like to take you out.” 

Normally, you could hide your enthusiasm about situations. In this sort of situation, your friends would tell you to play it cool and play hard to get. Yet here you were smiling at this handsome man you had just met, like he had asked you to marry him when all he had asked for was your number and the chance to see you again. 

Jeonghan watches you rub your lips together, your pretty smile only dimming slightly with effort before you nod. His eyes follow your hands, the maroon ribbon swirling like water around your fingers as you slide your phone from your purse and look at him expectantly.

“Only if I can have yours too.” 

With numbers exchanged, conversation came easy until drinks were finished and your cheeks hurt from smiling. You had learned more about Jeonghan, yet you still knew nothing. He was still just as much a mystery as he had been when you spotted him at your table but the spiral of nerves and fluttering of butterflies in your stomach begged you for more. 

Keeping his eyes on you as if you were vanishing into thin air, Jeonghan couldn’t help the way his brows knitted together as he watched you return your cup to the counter. His chest felt tight and heavy listening to your voice as you said your goodbyes to Wonwoo, promising to be back tomorrow. Even though Jeonghan knew he had a way to contact you and the promise of plans with you, it was hard to bear the idea of the meeting ending already. 

Turning back to the tables, you stop when you find Jeonghan standing, a similar tightness in your chest, realizing what was happening. Smiling in an attempt to shake off the feeling, you sigh when he moves to meet you halfway, mimicking your sigh. 

“Thank you for letting me sit in your spot, Y/N.” 

Jeonghan smiles as you laugh, walking towards the door beside him. His hand reaching it first so he can push it open for you, the chilly fall air hitting both of you, causing you to shiver and wrap your sweater around yourself a bit tighter. 

“Mm, you’re welcome. You can join me anytime you’d like. The company wasn’t half bad.” 

Biting at your lip, you wrinkle your nose at your attempt at flirting. Your eyes fixed on the sidewalk, as neither of you can bear to make the first move to part from one another just yet. Jeonghan just laughs into a small sigh watching you, his eyes moving over your beautiful face even as you look down from him. He wanted so badly to reach out to tilt your chin up to him so you’d look at him but he finds himself tightening his fist instead to push away the instinct. 

“No? I hope I can keep being “not half bad company” then. Uh, how ‘bout tomorrow? Do you have any plans? Or is that too soon?” 

Finally lifting your head, you smile at Jeonghan like you had before and he feels his heart ache. If he didn’t know any better, he’d call the feeling love. 

“Yeah? I mean, no. I–let me try this again. I would love to see you tomorrow. I do not have any plans, so I would love to spend time with you.” 

Heat creeps along your cheeks as you stumble through your words, Jeonghan’s lips pulling up into a smirk and then a full smile. Stepping closer, he laughs and shakes his head, keeping his eyes on yours. In his mind, you were impossibly perfect. Every stumble of your words was you stumbling right into his life and he was ready to catch you. 

“Then it’s a date. Do you want to meet here tomorrow afternoon? Around 4?” 

Nodding, you take in a breath, finding your knees feel weak with Jeonghan so close to you, even though you are grateful he is blocking the wind. You were happy not to feel as much of the cold air on your face but the overwhelming scent of vanilla was clouding your thoughts and making your mouth water. 

“Mmhm, I’ll be here. I can’t wait.” 

Taking in his own deep breath, Jeonghan nods along with you, Chai invading his senses and making his head swim with desire for you. How hadn’t he noticed before that you even smelled like chai tea? It was delicious and almost overwhelming. 

“I–me either. I should…get going. It’s getting cold. You are going to get too cold standing out here because of me. I’ll see you tomorrow, beautiful.” 

Swallowing hard Jeonghan speaks before he thinks, his lips and brain not seemingly connected as the scent of you clouds his judgment. Taking a step back, Jeonghan takes in a breath of fresh, crisp air before smiling at you and lowering his head as you watch him bewildered as he walks away, leaving you with your thoughts and how he had called you beautiful. 

Out of nerves, you had gotten to the cafe early. It was even colder so despite wanting to wait for Jeonghan outside, you had to give up on that idea and wait inside, where Wonwoo had quickly put a togo cup in your hands to warm them up. 

“Oh…I–thanks, Wonwoo. I didn’t even tell you I wasn’t staying today.” 

Shaking his head, the barista pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he moved around the counter with a damp cloth in his hand. You smiled at him, watching him clean off a table as you listened to him talk, your eyes moving to the door every time the bell would ring. 

“You are meeting my cousin. He’s pretty prompt, so you have a few minutes. Hang out and get warm before you leave again. I was kinda hoping to talk to you before you met him again.” 

Your smile faded slightly with Wonwoo’s wording, causing you to clear your throat before you brought your drink to your lips and took a sip. Was this one of those be careful and don’t hurt my family kind of talks? You weren’t sure why this was making you so nervous. You liked Wonwoo and he had never made you uncomfortable before, but now you were afraid to disappoint him. 

“Mm, okay? Am I in trouble?” 

Wonwoo’s laugh sends a wave of relief over you but it’s brief and fleeting as he sighs, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. 

“Course not. It’s nothing like that. It’s just... You’re my friend and I just wanted to... Damn, no matter how I say this, it sounds bad so I’ll just say it.” Nodding mostly to himself and gaining the courage to keep speaking, Wonwoo gestures with his cloth before continuing. “Jeonghan is a great guy. He’s my family and I love him but he’s had a rough past. He’s had a hard life at times and I just want you to remember that going into whatever this is you two are doing.” 

Watching from outside through the window, Jeonghan rubs his fingers together inside the pocket of his jacket as you talk to Wonwoo. The conversation seemed casual enough but something Wonwoo said caused your brows to furrow in a way that made Jeonghan’s stomach tighten. 

Wonwoo rubs his lips together, looks over your face and sees how your brows are knitting together as if you were trying to piece together a puzzle right in front of you. He wasn’t trying to scare you away from Jeonghan. He didn’t want his cousin to not find someone to be with; he just wanted you both to be careful and he could see something was moving quickly between the two of you that neither of you understood. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, if I upset you. That is not my intention. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, and I’m certainly not saying not to see Jeonghan…” 

“I’d hope you wouldn’t be saying that, Wonwoo.” 

Jeonghan’s voice seems to break through the tension, pulling you away from Wonwoo, who sighs at meeting his cousin’s gaze. You had almost expected him to be angry at Wonwoo but instead you find him smiling as if it were expected and part of a joke. Wonwoo shakes his head, glancing down at the table in front of him and picking up a tea cup, then turning back towards both of you. 

“I’m not. I’m just talking to my friend. You want a drink to go?” 

Not waiting for his answer, Wonwoo walks behind the counter, leaving you with Jeonghan, who laughs under his breath, rolling his eyes out of slight annoyance. 

“Yeah, please.” 

The sounds of Wonwoo working on Jeonghan’s drink become background music as you swallow hard, finally looking up at your date to find him watching you curiously. His dark eyes move over your face almost as if he were checking you for sighs of pain or injury, though there was clearly no need before he finally smiles, causing you to do the same. 

“Hey, I feel like I’m late.” 

Laughing, you feel warmth rush over your cheeks at Jeonghan’s words. You start to explain yourself when Wonwoo says his name and Jeonghan sighs out "just a second,” leaving you to watch him move to the counter. His hushed voice and Wonwoo’s are enough to tell you that you should mind your own business but you find yourself trying to turn your ear in to hear them better, only being able to catch a word here and there. 

“Just–she’s not like you. She’s not like us. Be careful with her.” 

“I’m not an idiot. Thank you for your concern.” 

When Jeonghan turns back towards you, you put your drink to your lips in an attempt to look as if you hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop on his and Wonwoo’s conversation. Your eyes move from his face to Wonwoo at the counter as the barista shakes his head, muttering something to himself and Jeonghan finally makes his way to you with a long sigh. 

“Ready to go? It’s pretty cold, and the wind is making it even colder. Here…” 

Nodding, you start to speak when Jeonghan offers you his drink, making you tilt your head like a confused puppy. It’s only when you take it that you realize why he offered it to you to hold. His hands move to the jacket zipper, pulling it upwards before he fiddles with your scarf, making sure it is against your neck, keeping you warm and protected against the cold air. 

“Oh…I–thanks.” 

Jeonghan smiles at your softly spoken words, his fingers slipping over yours briefly to take his drink back. Your eyes follow him to the door, where he holds it open for you, gesturing his head towards it and taking in a deep breath of the crisp, fall air. 

“No problem, can’t have my date catching a cold. Wonwoo might kill me.” 

You can tell it’s a joke while also taking a stab at his conversation with Wonwoo but even as you move out onto the sidewalk with Jeonghan, you can’t help but feel bad about the conversation you had shared with his cousin. Chewing on your cheek, you walk beside him for a moment before finally letting out a breath and a whined sound as you speak. 

“I’m sorry… You know if that was my fault? I don’t want you to fight with your family because of me. I know I’m friends with Wonwoo so if that’s too weird and it means you can’t see me or something, I totally get it.” 

Jeonghan’s eyes widen slightly at the whine in your voice, his lips pulling up in a smile as you start to ramble out your apology as well as his “out”. Shaking his head, the man laughs, glancing over at you and lifting his brow curiously. 

“If you think I’m going to let Jeon Wonwoo get in the way of something or someone I want...Y/N, you need to get to know me. Yeah, he’s family, but that’s it. I value family, sure, but blood is just blood. It doesn’t mean everything.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat as Jeonghan watches you, his eyes falling to your lips before they move back to your eyes. He laughs again into another sigh as the two of you turn towards the entrance of the park. Soon, it is just the soft sounds of traffic, quiet, distant conversations, and the crunching of leaves that fill your ears as you walk. 

“Was that too much? The family thing?” 

Shaking your head at Jeonghan’s question, you lift your head to look at him, finding his brows softened. You hadn’t realized the two of you had been walking in silence for a few moments; you had just been lost in thought. 

“No, not at all. Family is complicated. People are complicated. If we weren't, we’d be made of plastic or something.” 

Jeonghan can’t help but scoff in disbelief at how easily you seem to understand him. Nodding, he furrows his brows before leaning his head back towards the sky as he walks beside you. The sky was gray, but the maple trees in the park looked like they were on fire, all red, yellow, and orange. With each new burst of cold wind, more leaves shook loose from their branches, making their way to the earth, reminding Jeonghan of how easy it was to fall. 

You watched Jeonghan for a moment before looking up at the sky yourself. The trees made you smile as the leaves drifted to the ground around you and the man beside you. It was beautiful because, where he saw falling, you saw possibility. 

“The leaves are so pretty, don’t you think? You know, I was told once that maple leaves are special.” 

His eyes falling back to you, Jeonghan stops walking with you. He watches you standing with your eyes towards the sky, your hand out in front of you, a smile on your face as the chilly air brushes by you both. 

“Yeah? Whys that? 

Your smile seems to get bigger at his question and Jeonghan feels that feeling of his heart aching—that sensation of falling in love. You laugh, and your words are spoken with that same laughter, as if you are trying to believe them as much as you are trying to get him to believe them. 

“I was told if you catch a falling maple leaf, you will fall in love with the person you are walking with.” 

Jeonghan smiles at your words, his eyes moving to the falling maple leaves as he reaches out to catch one. 

“Yeah? What if you have already fallen in love with someone and you catch a maple leaf?” 

You shake your head. Another laugh is on your lips when you look at Jeonghan as he catches a maple leaf walking towards you. Falling silent, you press your lips together, feeling your cheeks heat up even as the cold air nips at them like kisses. 

“Well? Do you know the answer to that one?” 

Watching your lips pull up into a smile, Jeonghan offers you the maple leaf as he leans down to brush his lips against yours like a question. Even with his face so close to yours, he meets your eyes as your fingers brush against his, taking the leaf from his fingers before you answer his question by pressing your lips to his. 

The kiss is warm and safe. Nothing feels rushed and yet you feel like if you don’t keep kissing him, you might cry. Jeonghan smiles against your lips when you whine softly, feeling him pull away from you. His thumb rubbing the back of your hand as he leans back to look at you and your wide eyes. 

“I–don’t know the answer to your question.” 

Jeonghan laughs, his hand dropping from yours to lift to your face when you notice something that startles you. Your shocked gasp as you lean back from Jeonghan causes him to look at you, concerned that he has hurt you. 

“What’s on your hand?” 

Shaking his head, Jeonghan looks around for other people, pleased to see the two of you alone when you take his hand and study it. He watches as you run your finger along his left hand, tracing something he couldn’t see but somehow, because of what he had seen with you and what he knew, he had an idea. 

“Tell me what you see, Y/N. I don’t see anything; that doesn’t mean it’s not there. Trust me, okay?” 

Your hands were shaking. Jeonghan knew then that Wonwoo was right; you weren’t like them. Not completely anyway. He had wondered if you had a little magic in you, so in a way, they were both right. 

“It’s impossible. I’m going crazy. It’s like...gold ribbons? Gold ribbons around your wrist, your hand, and your ring finger? Jeonghan…I swear I don't—I'm not insane.” 

Sliding his fingers through yours, Jeonghan shakes his head once more, leading you towards a nearby bench to sit down. Taking the maple leaf from you, he puts it into a small book before putting it back into his pocket and turning to take both of your hands, meeting your eyes. 

“I know you aren’t crazy. I’d never call you insane. I don’t like that word. It’s used far too often for people who can do things that others can’t, for people who can see things others can’t.” Sighing into his next words, Jeonghan smiles at you. “I can explain this to you but it would take time. I would need more time than I have in this park and honestly, what you saw... I'm not even sure what it means.” 

You knew logically that you should be scared of what he was saying about what you had seen, but then there was something about you that made you know there was nothing to be scared of. There was something inside of you telling you that he was telling you the truth and that you could trust him. Taking his hand back into yours, you watch the gold ribbon shimmer along his skin as Jeonghan watches the maroon ribbons on your left hand. 

“I want to understand it.” 

Nodding, Jeonghan reaches up with his free hand to brush his fingers over your cheek. His thumb resting on your cheekbone, the man sighs, hoping he isn’t overwhelming you, feeling like he can’t lose you just as much as he doesn’t want to lose you already. 

“Then I’ll explain it to you. We have time. I’m not planning on going anywhere.” 

Jeonghan’s words were comforting, just as comforting as watching the gold ribbon move around his hand. Smiling, you nod, finally looking up from his hand to meet his eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you see more leaves fall and you can’t help but think about how they seem to fall slowly at first when they first leave the branch and then all at once the closer they get to the ground. That was how you felt about Jeonghan, even in a short amount of time. 

Daylight was shorter so by the time Jeonghan walked you back to your apartment building, it was dark. Your fingers were laced with his, the taste of chai in your mouth, though you were beginning to wonder if it was still lingering from the tea you had had earlier or if it was something else Jeonghan needed to explain to you.  

Jeonghan’s eyes moved over the door that seemed to want to take you from him and his fingers tightened to keep you with him for even just a moment longer. He knew it was selfish but he didn’t care anymore. He had already had so much taken from him in his life and now you had been placed in front of him like a gift. Why couldn’t he hold on a little tighter for as long as he could, even if it seemed too quick? 

“I’m beginning to think we should have met at the beginning of the day.” 

Your pretty laughter makes Jeonghan’s heart beat faster as you let go of his hand in place of wrapping your arms around him as if you had known him for years. Taking in a breath as he leans to rest his face against your hair, Jeonghan closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around you in return, feeling that urge to hold on tighter once again. 

“Next time, we will meet at the crack of dawn. I can learn about your entire life.”  

Jeonghan smiles against your hair before shaking his head. He would tell you anything, even things he didn’t want to but he wanted to know about you. He wanted to be part of your life and your family. He wanted to keep his family here but now there was you. There were those ribbons. 

“Mmm, I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know, Angel.” 

You smile, moving to nuzzle your nose against Jeonghan’s neck, when he calls you Angel. You hadn’t expected him to call you something like that. First, it had been beautiful and now, Angel? He really knew how to sweet talk you. 

Feeling the warmth of your cheek against your skin, Jeonghan laughs, leaning back to look down at you. His fingers press into your jacket, wishing he could get closer to you, touch your skin, and be skin against your skin. 

“What? You like that? Angel?” 

Jeonghan watches you nod shyly, causing him to laugh. You were perfect and you were his; at least that was how he felt. At least that was what he wanted. Swallowing hard, Jeonghan couldn’t fight his urge to kiss you again. He had to do it at least once more before he left. 

When Jeonghan’s lips meet yours this time, you can’t help the soft moan that slips from between yours. Between how warm the kiss felt and the gentle brush of his tongue against your upper lip, you find your knees going weak, needing his arms to keep you upright. 

Furrowing his brow at your reaction, Jeonghan tightens his grip on you, deepening his kiss. He becomes braver, daring to let his tongue explore your mouth. His tongue glides along yours, causing goosebumps to erupt along his skin when the taste of vanilla spreads along his taste buds. You were unlike anyone he had ever been with in his entire life. 

It is almost painful when Jeonghan forces himself to kiss you one last time, knowing he's saying goodnight. One last chaste kiss that lingers before he pulls away, watching your smile fade even slightly as he does. Jeonghan smiles still, brushing his nose against yours as you speak softly. 

“Would it be weird to tell you that you taste like chai?” 

Laughing Jeonghan shakes his head, leaning to rest his forehead against yours as your fingers slide into his jacket to get as close to his skin as possible through the layers of his shirts. 

“No, I was going to tell you that you taste like vanilla.” Sighing, Jeonghan then lets out a groan almost in pain when he leans back to stand up straight. “I guess I should say goodnight. Your cheeks and nose are getting really cold standing out here.” 

You laugh, furrowing your brows, learning that you taste like vanilla, only to frown when Jeonghan says he should say goodnight. You knew that he was right. You were cold; you were starting to shiver but you wanted to say you didn’t mind. You wanted to say, “Come upstairs?" and so you did. 

Jeonghan swallows hard at your request. He knew he should be the gentleman and say no. He should politely decline and come back another day. He shouldn’t go upstairs until the two of you know each other much better than you do now but looking at you now, Jeonghan can only nod. 

Two flights of stairs and a few seconds of fumbling with your keys out of nerves later, you stood in your living room with Jeonghan. Jackets and shoes discarded, you watched as he looked around at your life. A smile was on his handsome face as he moved to look at pictures of you with your friends and family. Hushed comments about how beautiful you are and how you looked like you had so much fun and were so loved. 

“Yeah…I’m pretty lucky, I guess. I’ve been here my entire life so I’ve always had them. I wanna know about you, though…You said you’d tell me if I asked. You said you could explain this?”

Moving back to Jeonghan, you lift his left hand, showing it to him. Though he couldn’t see the golden ribbons, they still spiraled around his hand, just like the maroon ones moved around yours. Jeonghan’s fingers flex before he sighs, furrowing his brows, leading you towards your couch to sit down. 

“Not going to run away from me or kick me out?” Laughing, he watches you shake your head no, a sweet smile on your curious face even though the nerves were eating him from the inside out. 

“Uh, ok, well, here goes. I–” 

Holding up his finger, Jeonghan leans from you to reach into his jacket, lying on the nearby armchair, to take out the book he had stored your leaf in. You watch as he opens it, offering you the leaf once again before placing the book on his leg. 

“If my mother was still alive and she knew I was showing this to someone who wasn’t a witc–well, someone who wasn’t fully… Fuck how do I even say this?” 

Turning the leaf in your fingers, you furrow your brows, hearing that Jeonghan’s mother isn’t alive, only for them to deepen when he struggles to find his words. Shaking your head, you lean to put the leaf on the table, moving to slide your legs under you so you can turn towards him, resting your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating hard and quick in his chest. 

“You do it at your pace and truthfully? I swear to you, I’m not going to run away from you or be afraid. Jeonghan, your hand is glowing gold, so if you are about to tell me magic is real, I think you are a little late. I think you are a wizard, Harry.” 

Jeonghan stares at you for a moment before starting to laugh. You watch, amused but also concerned, until he finally calms down and shakes his head. 

“Did–did you just quote Harry Potter to me?” 

You nod, and Jeonghan scoffs lightly, leaning to kiss you softly, shaking his head as he leans back, feeling his chest lighten as his heartbeat slows and the panic subsides slightly. 

“I don’t know how the fuck I got lucky enough to meet you. I certainly don’t deserve you.” You start to speak and Jeonghan shakes his head, lifting his hand to stop you. “I–please, it’s how I feel. I can explain it.” 

You didn’t agree with him. There was nothing he could do or could have done to make you agree with him. Furrowing your brows, you want to comfort him but you aren’t sure how so instead, you press your fingers against his chest and just listen. 

“Yeah, magic is real. It’s not what they have in Harry Potter. Most of that is bullshit. But I’m a warlock; I was born that way. Anyone with magic is born that way. I think you were born that way too.” 

Leaning your head back, you scoff, causing Jeonghan to lift his left hand, letting you see the gold spirling around his hand. Your brows soften and Jeonghan knows his point was taken, allowing him to continue. 

“Perhaps not to the degree of some witches but everyone has a little magic in them. All humans, just a little bit. Deja vu is magic…but you there is a little more—fuck,  maybe a lot more. We can figure that out together, okay?” 

You just nod, feeling your heart quicken at the idea of having some magical potential. You had always wanted to believe in magic. That was something that any little girl or boy would want to believe in but you had never truly let go of it and now it was staring you in the face. 

“This…” Jeonghan gestures to the book on his lap, “is my grimoire. I’ll let you look through it later. It’s really personal to each warlock and witch. We can start you one, if you want, once we figure out what’s going on with you.” 

Jeonghan glances at you once again, watching you press your lips together. He knew it was a lot of information, even if it was just basic things. He didn’t want to overwhelm you but you had asked. Flipping a couple of pages, Jeonghan sighs and taps the page, causing you to gasp lightly as some words shimmer and then fade back to normal ink. 

“Some warlocks or witches have little things about them. My mom could transfigure into her familiar form. My dad could perfect any potion that he tried on the first try. I–I can see auras.” 

Glancing down at your hand, Jeonghan slides his fingers over your hand, tracing the ribbons as you watch him. 

“Auras? Like, you know when someone is good or bad?” 

Tilting his head back and forth, Jeonghan purses his lips, trying to think of how to describe it before he looks up at you. 

“It’s more than that and it’s rare. I can’t always see them and they aren’t always that simple. I saw an aura in a warlock who visited my house when I was little. It was dark green and it scared me. I didn’t know what it meant.” 

You watch as Jeonghan looks down at his grimoire, your eyes scanning over the Latin that you don’t understand as his voice shakes slightly. 

“I should have asked my parents because I had to find out later that dark green auras mean not only greed but to the point of ill intent. That warlock cursed my parents and a few weeks later they were both gone.” 

Feeling your heart tighten with Jeonghan’s grief, you look up at his face as a soft "oh" slips from your lips. You aren’t sure what to say and Jeonghan understands by just shaking his head and whispering that it’s okay. 

“When I said that I don’t deserve you, Y/N…I mean that because there is a reason that Wonwoo was telling you to be careful around me. There is a reason I moved here. I saw my own aura.” 

Sliding your hand over Jeonghan’s left, you tighten your grip on his and he feels the warmth spread through his arm, though he doesn’t have the courage to look at you, feeling like if he tells you the truth, he will lose you. 

“I searched for that warlock until I found him and followed him for months last year. I had decided that I would do it indirectly. That’s worse, you know? Cursing someone else to kill someone.” Jeonghan swallows hard, nodding to his own words, feeling your eyes on him even if you don’t speak. 

“My aura was black in the mirror. Pitch black, and I knew that was death and it should have scared me from doing it but I did it anyway.” 

Lifting your hand from his, you turn Jeonghan’s face towards you, tears running down his cheeks. You watch him close his eyes in an attempt to hide his shame, even as you push away his tears with your thumb.  

“Jeonghan…Did you come here to start over?” 

Nodding, Jeonghan keeps his eyes closed, leaning into your palm. The brush of your fingers like the rungs of a ladder helped him climb out of the darkness of the hole that he had been in for far too long. 

“Then start over. I don’t care about what you did. I care about your past but not that. Open your eyes and look at me.” 

Slowly opening his eyes, Jeonghan meets yours, almost afraid that you will be angry with him despite your words but instead he finds you looking at him lovingly. A sigh of relief escapes between his lips and Jeonghan turns his head to press his lips to your palm, whispering, “Thank you.” 

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, the story of Jeonghan’s past lingering like a breath before the weight is gone and Jeonghan can smile seeing the ribbons on your hand once again. 

“You have an aura on your hand. I think that’s what you are seeing too, on mine.” 

It is your turn to tilt your head as Jeonghan turns to sit towards you, offering you his hands and trying to explain the ribbons. The words on his lips seem to fall short when you gasp while watching the gold of his finger extend towards your finger and a ribbon of a different color come into view on your own hand. 

“Holy shit…you can see that?” 

Jeonghan watches you nod, your mouth open in awe, as his own hand spirals with gold. You watch as your hand shimmers with maroon warmth, extending up your arm and into your chest. Moving his hand from yours, Jeonghan scoffs in disbelief as the gold ribbon from his hand extends from his finger to meet the maroon trailing from yours, tethered. 

“What does it mean?” 

Jeonghan laughs at first, shaking his head. He wanted to be able to tell you something that sounded less like a fairytale but all he had was magic. Jeonghan recalled being young and his mother telling him about soulmates and how they were incredibly rare. How some witches and warlocks were very lucky and were tethered to another witch or warlock. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” 

Furrowing your brows, you smile at Jeonghan’s words. You wanted to laugh and shake your head, tell him no, but instead you feel it in your heart that you do believe. You believe full heartedly. You hadn’t before. You hadn’t believed in anything like that or love at first sight and now here you were staring at him. 

“Yeah…I do.”

That hadn’t been what Jeonghan had expected. Your words were welcomed but they had thrown him off. He hadn’t expected you to accept him as a warlock or to accept him past and now you were accepting him as your soulmate? You took his breath away. 

“Yeah?” 

You smile and nod as Jeonghan smiles too sliding his hand along yours, the ribbons fading into your skin. Gold and maroon meshing and becoming invisible to the naked eye. You could feel they were still there if you wanted to but right now you didn’t need to see or feel the ribbons to know Jeonghan was yours. 

“Shit–I…this is not how I thought today would go.” 

Jeonghan’s words are spoken on a breathy groan as you slide across his lap to sit across his leg. His hands working their way along your thighs towards your hips feeling your body against his for the first time. It was familiar in a way that shouldn’t make sense. 

“I trust you. I–don’t understand any of this, not really but god that’s all I know, Jeonghan. I trust you and in my heart all I know is you’re mine.” 

It was what he had known and had been afraid to let himself accept all day. You were his. He had felt bad for thinking it, feeling it but there had been a reason. You were his. You were born his. 

Groaning at the feeling of your hips sliding over his, Jeonghan leans his head back, trying to keep his cool, unsure of how quickly you want this to go despite your words, “I trust you,” echoing in his mind. 

“Baby…fuck. You’re mine, I know. If you don’t…I’m trying to be good. Let me kiss you.” 

You wanted him to kiss you but you didn’t want Jeonghan to be good. You wanted more than that and you could feel that he didn’t want that either. You knew it was fast but that didn’t matter. Sliding your hand along Jeonghan’s arm, your nails scratching at his skin, you lean down to brush your lips over his hearing and feel his hiss into your mouth before he mutters against your lips. 

“I said I’m trying to be good.” 

“And I said I trust you.” 

You had lit a fire in Jeonghan and now you were fanning it hotter with your kisses. He remembered how much he had wanted to touch your skin while standing outside of your apartment. How many layers of clothes had been in his way and now here you were sitting in his lap, his fingers pushing your shirt up your back so that his skin could finally brush over yours. It was like pure electricity connecting you to him. 

Jeonghan smirks against your lips when you moan into his mouth. His hands pull you down by your waist over his hardening erection trapped in his jeans. Your leggings were allowing you to feel every bump and ridge of his jeans and how his cock had gotten hard for you so quickly between your legs. 

“Please…please… touch me, Jeonghan.” 

His brows furrowing, his lips pursing into a silent groan, Jeonghan feels his cock twitch in his jeans when you beg him to touch you. It was beautiful, and you were beautiful. He could listen to you say that all night long. He wanted to listen to you beg for him until the sun came up and maybe even longer. 

“I am touching you. See, don't you feel my hands?" 

You whine, squirming on Jeonghan’s lap, feeling his fingers under your shirt as he trails them along your back. It wasn’t what you wanted and you knew that he knew that. The smirk in his voice told you that. Sliding your hands along his chest, you lean back to look into Jeonghan’s eyes, your voice full of want to the point where you almost sound like you could cry. 

“Touch me everywhere. Take me to bed.” 

Jeonghan had half a mind to make you beg him again but your lips brushed over his and then his cheek, causing him to lose his resolve. He laughs under his breath before nodding, feeling you slip from his lap to take his hand. The warm feeling of magic, ribbons tangling and spinning around your hands and fingers, makes Jeonghan take a moment to pause before he finally does stand, letting you lead him toward your bedroom. 

The scent of vanilla and chai overwhelms him for a moment as he watches you take a step away from him. Your pretty smile enraptures him as his eyes follow you backwards to your bed. Jeonghan breathes out your name, taking a step towards you before stopping to glance at your bedside table. Three candles are placed in a triangle, each a different color. 

“Do you want me to light them?” 

Your voice is soft and sweet, almost innocent in your question. You clearly didn’t know what they were or what you had been using them for. 

“I can, Ignis.” 

The Latin word is half whispered and half just a breath but each candle flutters to life with it, causing you to gasp with wonder. Jeonghan smiles at your reaction, moving closer to step between your legs, his fingers once again sliding to the end of your shirt but this time he drags it up your torso, urging you to lift your arms so he can pull it over your head as he speaks. 

“Why did you pick those colors? White, red, and pink?” 

Shrugging, you shake your head, biting at your bottom lip as your shirt leaves your fingertips. Jeonghan’s eyes are searching your face before he glances down at your body. His fingers glide along your shoulder as his eyes follow until he looks back into your eyes. Your back arches to the feeling of his hand running over your spine, a small laugh slipping from between your lips as his fingers make quick work of your bra clasp, causing the straps to slip from your shoulders. 

“I just like the colors. They look pretty together.” 

Jeonghan gives you a skeptical look. His fingers trailing back along your shoulder to guide your bra strap further down your arm as you let it fall from you completely. 

“God, you are so beautiful, Angel. Lay back on the bed for me?” 

You watch Jeonghan drop your bra onto the floor on top of your shirt as you scoot back onto your bed. His eyes follow you, listening to your steady breath while his hands move to his own clothes. You find yourself being jealous of his hands while also enjoying watching him undress himself. You wanted to run your hands over his skin but you also knew you’d get your chance. You knew you’d only get this chance once. Seeing him like this, undressing for you for the first time, only once.

Jeonghan runs his fingers through his hair as he drops his shirt onto the growing pile of clothes, a sigh on his lips. His eyes glance over you as you lay half naked on the bed in front of him. He wanted to get you out of your leggings and panties to be between your legs but he was going to savor this. He wanted to savor all of it, every discovery. 

“I think it’s more than you liking the colors together.”

Shaking your head, you give Jeonghan a confused look. Your fingers slide along your stomach towards your breast as his slender fingers undo his belt and jeans, pushing them door. Jeonghan smirks, his dark eyes following your fingers every move as he kicks his pants from his legs and repeats the process with his boxers. 

“White candles represent new beginnings. Like a blank canvas. Red, well, that’s an intense color and an intense candle choice, especially paired with white and pink.”

Sitting up, you whine softly, somewhere mixed between Jeonghan’s name and a moan as you see him fully. His body was perfectly sculpted, from his head to the toes. You feel your mouth all but water as your eyes shamelessly look over his cock, hard and leaking for you. While you were listening to him about your candles, you also wanted him in your bed. You wanted his mouth on you, his hands on your body, and him inside of you. 

“I know, Angel. I’m right here. Be a good girl for me…be patient.” 

Jeonghan walks beside your bed, his fingers trailing along your hand and arm as you reach out for him. A smirk on his lips as you try to hold on to him, only for him to keep just far enough away. Without asking, as if he had been in your room a hundred times, Jeonghan opens your nightstand drawer and tilts his head. You watch as he sighs softly, pushing a couple things to the side before opening a box of condoms and taking one out. 

“The red candle represents fire. It means protection, strength, and courage, but also lust and power. So it’s fitting for a bedroom. I keep one in mine as well. 

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and desire at Jeonghan’s words. Your eyes are fixed on him as he lays the silver square on the nightstand before finally looking at you and resting his knee on the bed to hover over you. Jeonghan’s fingers glide over your stomach and his touch feels like the fire he had been talking about. It’s almost as hot as a candle to your skin but you arch towards it, begging for more as his fingers splay out, inching towards the top of your leggings. 

“Pink is an interesting choice next to red. It’s like the flip side of the coin. It’s the candle I would choose for you. It represents tenderness, compassion, and acceptance. If you were a candle, you’d be a pink candle.” 

Sucking on your lips, you let go with a small moan as Jeonghan’s fingers dip below the waistband of your leggings. He watches as you lift your hips, your head shaking slowly to his words, before you smile and push your head back into your pillows. 

“So I’m a pink candle and you are red?” 

Tilting his head, Jeonghan purses his lips, adjusting his fingers into the elastic of your panties as he tugs your leggings down. Jeonghan finally smirked once again, dropping the rest of your clothes off the side of the bed as he answered you. 

“That’s a good way of saying it. Do you still trust me?” 

Sliding his fingers along the side of your face, Jeonghan stops to rest his thumb against your cheekbone as you look up at him. He knew the answer before you even spoke, but hearing your soft "yes" made his heart beat quicker and his cock jerk against your thigh. You were so innocent and his. 

“Mm, yeah? If you ever want me to stop, I want you to say so, okay? I want to try something.” 

Jeonghan was moving away from you again, causing you to whine but he didn’t go far. You watch as he picks up your silk scarf from a chair near your bed. You hadn’t given much thought to the scarf in some time; the deep red accessory had been worn a handful of times before you had tossed it on the chair, out of sight and out of mind. 

“Hands above your head. I promise, I’ll be gentle. I just want to see…just how much you trust me. Is that bad of me?” 

He watches as you shake your head, your arms lifting so that you can cross your wrists above your head. Jeonghan’s breath hitches as your fingers wrap around the wrought iron headboard slot. The cold iron under your fingers causes your skin to erupt with goosebumps as you watch the man in front of you curiously. 

“It’s not bad. I said I trusted you. I know you won’t hurt me.” 

Shaking his head, Jeonghan smiles a bit at your words, moving to his knee on the mattress next to you. You were right; he’d never hurt you. Not in any way you wouldn’t enjoy it, and certainly not in a way you wouldn’t like it if he could help it. 

“This is why you are the pink candle. So tender and trusting. You have your white light around you and yet... you choose a maroon scarf and your arua is the same color? What’s hiding inside of you, my angel?” 

Jeonghan’s fingers glide over your skin as he loops the silk around your wrists and finally around the slot between the headboard, loosely tying you to the bed. You were a vision to behold like this, laid out bare and vulnerable for him. So perfectly innocent, yet as he met your eyes, a small smirk played at your lips. 

“Oh? Is there something I am going to like when I go looking? Something you might not be able to keep hidden once I’m between your legs?” 

With his hand trailing along your side, Jeonghan slowly moves backwards on the bed towards your feet but he keeps his eyes on your face. He didn’t expect an answer but he didn’t need one. The way your breath hitched when his fingers traced over your hip and grazed just shy of your pussy answered the question just as well as anything you could have said out loud. 

“Spread your legs for me…” 

Closing your eyes, you feel a rush of embarrassment wash over you at Jeonghan’s words. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him between your legs or that you wouldn’t do as he asked; it was that he wanted you to do it for him. He wanted to see you; all of you lay bare in front of him and you could feel how wet you were. You could feel it running between your legs and on to the comforter beneath you, almost as if someone had left a faucet dripping overnight. 

“Baby…spread your legs. I won’t force them open. Not tonight, not this time.” 

Jeonghan slides his hands along your shins to your knees, watching you consider his words before you let out a slow breath and let your legs fall open in front of him. His eyes drift down your body and fall to either side of him as he moves to kneel between your thighs with a groan. 

The candlelight was just enough light for Jeonghan to see how wet you were and he couldn’t help himself. Leaning forward, Jeonghan mutters how beautiful you are as he brushes his fingers between your folds, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. Using what had dripped on his fingers, Jeonghan rubbed his fingers and thumb together before pressing his thumb against your clit, his middle finger sliding back towards your already throbbing entrance. 

“This okay?” 

He didn’t have to ask. Once again he knew the answer from the way your body was reacting and the moan that spliled from between your pretty lips but he wanted to hear it this time. It was important. It was the first time and it was going so fast. 

Pulling at the headboard, the scarf bites into your wrist gently as you feel Jeonghan’s middle finger circle your pussy when he asks for permission. Nodding you whine out yes pushing your hips towards his finger in order to get what you want. You wanted more than just his fingers. You wanted Jeonghan’s mouth, his fingers, his cock. If it were possible to have it all at the same time, maybe then you’d be satisfied. 

“More…I can take more. Don’t be so gentle.” 

Jeonghan smiles against your knee as he leans to rest his cheek against your leg. His finger is slowly working into you as your walls clench around his single finger. You were greedy. There was the red candle. There was how you were like him. 

“You want me to leave marks on you? Remind you who was in your bed when I finally go home? Is that it, Angel?” 

Working a second finger into your gummy walls, Jeonghan groans, hearing your whines as you nod and beg him for more. He had never felt like this with anyone else in bed or in a relationship. There had been others in the past. The sex had been intense but there was never this much passion or this much territorial instinct. 

He wouldn’t fool himself into thinking he was the first person you had ever been with. He wouldn’t even ask you. Instead, he would fuck you so hard and good that you’d forget their names. He would erase them from your memories so that even if he did ask one day, you’d only be able to say, “I think there was someone…” 

Arching your back from the bed as Jeonghan’s third finger slides into you, you cry out in pleasure. His mouth latching onto your thigh hard, somewhere between a bite and a kiss. You can feel the way your skin is going to bruise under his mouth and yet you want spots like that one to paint your entire body like a map that you can revisit in the morning. 

“So–I’m so close. Don’t stop…” 

Your words cause Jeonghan to smirk against your leg. His tongue runs the length between the love bite and your mound before he replaces his thumb with his tongue. Your mind was hazy with bliss. You were right on the edge when….nothing. Jeonghan kisses your folds but his fingers slide from you, leaving your thighs trembling—your first orgasm taken from you. 

“No…no no no… why?” 

A quiet laugh and warm breath fanning against your wet folds draw your eyes downward, though you aren’t able to lift your body enough as you strain against silk and iron. Jeonghan lifts his brow at you, his fingers lazily playing with his spit and the wetness dripping from your wanting pussy as you whine at him confused. 

“You beg so beautifully. Nothing worth having was given so easily. Try again, Y/N.” 

Throwing your head back against the pillow you close your eyes feeling Jeonghan’s fingers slipping back into you slowly, one by one. The pressure slowly beginning to build once again. He wanted you to beg? You could beg for something you wanted, especially when it was him. When it was this. 

Jeonghan groans to the taste of you, his tongue running along your folds to his fingers before he finally wraps his lips around your clit sucking lightly. You were panting his name and begging under your breath but it wasn’t enough just yet. He could get you to do more. With a curl of his finger, brushing the spongy spot on the roof of your walls, Jeonghan smirks, his tongue resting against the throbbing bundle of nerves at his mouth as you cry out his name loudly. 

“Oh fuck! Jeonghan! Please? I need it. Please? Please, can I cum? Let me cum for you. I’ve been good. I can be better. I–ah! Please!” 

Your words were urgent. Tears fell over the rims of your eyes from feeling overwhelmed and the pleasure that ripped through your body as Jeonghan finally gave you what you wanted Groaning against your pussy, he buries his fingers in you deeply over and over again until finally the floodgates keeping your orgasm back break. 

Jeonghan’s warm, soft, wet tongue runs to your entrance, collecting your cum on his tongue as he moans in appreciation. His hands slide under your body to pull you closer to his face as he eats you out as if you were his last meal. Alternating between his tongue and his lips, Jeonghan takes his time to clean you of every last drop of cum as your thighs tremble around his head, your muscles screaming from overstimulation by the time he is finished. 

Moving between your legs, Jeonghan smiles, reaching up to wipe his hand along his mouth and chin as you look up at him with lustful eyes. There was what he had been searching for. That look in your eyes. 

Reaching towards the nightstand, Jeonghan swipes the condom from it, bringing the corner of the silver square to his lips as you watch him catch your breath. Carefully, he rips the foil open as if he’s done it a hundred times, making you roll your eyes playfully. Jeonghan grins, the latex in hand, his eyes moving from yours only for a moment as he reaches between your body and his to roll the condom onto his length as he speaks into a groan. 

“What? Was that too cheesy?” 

“You reminded me of a college fuckboy, but I think I might love you anyway.” 

Your words stop Jeonghan from moving and cause his breath to hitch in his throat. He had hinted at it earlier in the park. The leaf had fallen within his reach and you had mentioned the story about catching them and falling in love…But what if you were already in love with who you were walking with? 

Lifting his eyes to meet yours, Jeonghan finds you looking away. You had clearly realized what you had said and you were trying to hide your face without the use of your hands. Your fingers were straining against the silk that kept you bound to the bed but he didn’t need you bound to the bed anymore. 

Using his right hand, Jeonghan quickly unties the scarf, letting you pull your hands from the headboard but he is quick to catch them before you can cover your face. You watch as he shakes his head, lifting your left hand to his lips to press a kiss to your fingers as he does. 

No, he didn’t need you bound in anyway, except to him, which you already were. The maroon ribbons of magic swirling around your fingers again caused a glow against his lips as he let them rest there but you could see how the fibers of the ribbon trailed off and down to the bed where his left hand rested next to your body. 

“You think you love me?” 

Swallowing hard, you feel your heart beating hard and fast in your chest. You knew that Jeonghan could feel it against his own skin as he lay on top of you. There was no point or reason for you to lie, so you nod. 

“Yes.” 

Jeonghan smiles, pressing another kiss to your fingers. His hand slides along your arm until he lets go of it completely, instead of trailing his hand along your leg to your knee. Pulling it up to his hip, Jeonghan groans, leaning down to brush his lips against yours as he rolls his hips towards yours. Your soft moan fans hot breath against his mouth when you feel his cock press against your folds but not quite hard enough to push into you just yet. 

“I think I knew that I loved you the moment I caught that maple leaf. You were and are so beautiful. You were smiling up at the sky and the stupid trees and I was jealous of them. Then you were telling me about this fairytale..." 

Whispering Jeonghan’s name, you start to tell him that you love him again but fall short when the head of his cock finally gets the perfect angle and he is able to slowly thrust into you. Jeonghan closes his eyes, his fingers digging into your skin at your hip, feeling your warm walls clenching around him with each slow inch that you take inside of you. 

“Fuck…baby. You feel so good. I–god…You were telling me about falling in love and leaves and I was falling in love with you. I fell in love with you because we were born for one another. You were born to be mine. No one elses.” 

And he would never let anyone else have you. Not now, not ever, Jeonghan thought to himself as he bottomed out into you for the first time. Your hand sliding along his waist to rest on his back, pulling him closer to you as you gasped out a moan, feeling full of him. 

While Jeonghan’s words and the magic of it all didn’t make complete sense, what did was the feeling that he was describing. You knew it too. You knew it the moment he walked away the first time at the cafe. That man was yours. This man…is yours. 

Scratching at his skin lightly, you nod and mutter his name on a moan before throwing your head back, feeling pleasure rush through you when Jeonghan starts to pick up his pace and deepen his thrusts. He was beginning to learn about you. He could feel it now, every time your pussy would tighten around his cock if he moved just the right way. So he would move that way again and then purposely make you wait before he would do it all over again, just so he could listen to you cry his name against his lips. 

“Are you gonna cum for me again?”

Nodding, you wrap your hand around the back of Jeonghan’s neck, trying to keep his mouth near yours but he laughs at your instance. There was your greed that he loved so much. He wasn’t leaving you. He would kiss you every day for the rest of your shared life together but right now…he wanted to watch you fall apart on his cock for the first time. 

“Angel, I love how you cry for me like this. Is it that good? You like my cock that much?” 

His words were making you feel shy but still, you nodded and whined out a yes as tears ran down your cheeks. The pressure of your orgasm building in your abdomen as Jeonghan reaches between your legs to circle his thumb around your clit only causes your thighs to tremble even harder. 

“Ah…Jeonghan! Please…” 

The last of your words are whispered, almost tearfully between a moan and a sob, as you try to keep your orgasm at bay, though it hurts to try. Jeonghan hisses back his own groan. His climax is on the edge, barreling behind yours as he tightens his grip on your thighs, thrusting into you harder and pushing your head towards the headboard with each powerful thrust. 

“Cum baby. Do it… I’m not going—fuck, I’m right behind you.” 

Your hands clench on the bedding under you as you tightly close your eyes, seeing white the moment your orgasm washes over you for the second time. The intensity of pleasure is so intense for you and Jeonghan as you clench around him like a vice that any attempts he has at holding himself back are futile. 

Jeonghan groans, feeling warm, thick cum spill into the condom with one final thrust before he falls over you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You are grateful for the weight of his body as you come down from your high. Your legs slowly stop shaking as Jeonghan’s hand runs along the length of your outer thigh. His lips work soft, tender kisses along the span of your neck before he makes it to your lips, catching his breath on the way. 

Smiling against your lips, Jeonghan knows he has pulled you. He knows he has to take care of the condom and that he needs to get you cleaned up but when you smile back against his lips he can’t make himself move just yet. Instead, he runs his fingers from the side of your face and neck to the back of your head, pulling you closer to his mouth. The kiss never rushed, feeling like it took your breath away while also giving you all you would ever need to survive, up until the moment Jeonghan finally pulled back to whisper against your lips. 

“I love you.” 

You had a feeling he would say the words. The two of you had been playing around with the words the entire time. You knew how fast it was. You knew how crazy it was but how crazy could it be when there was something bigger than both of you telling you it was meant to be? 

For your entire life, there had only been a handful of people you had ever spoken those three words too and meant them completely. Now you knew that as you said them to Jeonghan, you meant them for the rest of your life. 

“I love you too.” 

Closing his eyes for a moment, Jeonghan takes in the feeling of hearing the words on your lips. His fingers slide along the back of your head and over your hair before he kisses you once more and pulls from you at last. You watch with fond curiosity as he takes care of himself, disposing of the condom, cleaning up the wrapper, and moving towards your bedroom door, searching for something. 

“What are you looking for?” 

Sighing into a yawn, Jeonghan stretches his left arm above his head to feel the muscles in his back extend, knowing all the while that your eyes were taking in every inch of his skin. He had no reason to feel shy or embarrassed after what had happened. In fact, he was loving every moment of your eyes on his bare skin; he was taking pride in your enjoyment of him. 

“Your bathroom. I wanted to start a bath or shower for us. Something…” 

Sliding up in the bed, you smile, pulling your legs up towards your chest as you watch Jeonghan as he finally turns back to look at you. There was still so much to learn about one another but you knew there were many hours left in the night and many years left for the rest of your life. 

“Next door on the right. I’d prefer a bath.” 

Nodding, Jeonghan glances towards the door you mentioned before looking back at you fondly. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his entire life at that moment. The moonlight shining on you from the window, the candle light in the reflection of your eyes, and that maroon arua around your hand that signified you were his. 

“Then a bath is what you get, Angel.” 

You follow Jeonghan for as long as you can with your eyes until he is out of your view. Just the sounds of water filling the tub and his humming as you lean back on your bed, lifting your hand to look at the magic swirling around your hand. All that maroon and a spot of gold at the tip of your left finger to let you know he was bound to you. 

“This is crazy.”

You laugh at your own hushed words, lifting your other hand to run it over your fingers. You don’t notice as Jeonghan comes back into the room, leaning against the doorframe for a moment to watch you. 

“No, it’s just a little magic, baby.”

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed

[waynes-multiverse]

Rehab – Epilogue

Series Summary: Thanks to Soldier Boy, the CIA was able to develop Project Bloom under the fierce leadership of Grace Mallory: a final cure to Compound V and a hopeful end to the supe epidemic three years after the explosive incident at Vought. A secret rehab facility in Upstate New York is supposed to help former heroes find their way back to humanity. The catch, though? Soldier Boy has never fucking agreed to any of this shit and is surely not happy about being powerless for the first time in his goddamn long life.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, some crack, a bit of fluff and angst, hard decisions, a lot of goodbyes & all the feels

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: We're here, babes! End of the road! Thank you guys so much for everything. This was a wild ride, and I'm glad I had you in my passenger's seat 💚

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Chapter 8 || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Epilogue: twin flame

You’re gonna be nowhere The loneliest kind of lonely It may be rough goin’ Just to do your thing’s the hardest thing to do…

“Morning.” Y/N smiles brightly as he stirs and slowly wakes. “Wakey, wakey, sunshine.”

Blue eyes flutter open and fearfully widen, his brow scrunches in confusion as he looks around and scans his environment. He tries to wiggle free of the handcuffs around his wrists, keeping him tied to the metal bed frame.

Not that it matters – he can’t leave either way.

She turns off the radio with a blissful sigh. “You know, that was one of his favorite songs. Your father’s,” she clarifies. “He sang it all the time. It was fucking annoying.”

“Why the hell can’t I move? Get me the fuck out of here,” the man in a sky-blue hospital gown demands and lifts his head off the mattress, only a few inches, attempting to get up.

Needless to say, that attempt is futile and fails miserably.

“Don’t strain yourself, John, or you might shit the bed. And I ain’t cleaning that mess… You’ve been in a coma for three weeks,” Y/N tells him with an amused smile. “Oh, and you can’t move because you’re paralyzed from the waist down. I even doubt that meager dick’s still working.”

His nostrils flare and let out a huff. “It’s Homelander, you bitch. No one calls me by that name.”

“Yeah, not anymore.” Y/N twitches her shoulders in mock apology. Her mouth curves into a Machiavellian grin. “Scared yet?”

“Where the fuck am I?” he growls through gritted teeth, upset by her blatant disrespect.

“You’re at a rehab facility for former supes. I mean, it’s discontinued. Abandoned, really. It’s just you and me,” she replies flatly and then forces a customer-service smile to her lips. “So, guess I’ll be your nurse for the day. How are we doing, you–”

Her brow furrows as she tries to remember the exact words, pensively pursing her lips.

“Wait…” She holds up a finger to stop him from interrupting her as she fishes out a crumpled piece of paper from her jeans pocket. She squints her eyes in concentration as she skims over its content.

“Ah yes!” With a smile, she clears her throat and reads from her paper. “So, how are you doing, you bootlicking… carpet-munching… cockboy?”

Homelander frowns at the insults. Y/N does too, but for a different reason as she shakes her head.

“Jesus fucking Christ, your dad’s handwriting is an atrocity,” she mutters as she tilts her head with narrowed eyes at the paper in her hands.

The blond man’s eyes narrow in both shock and confusion. “How do you know my father?”

“Oh, uhm, I’m his wife,” Y/N says and smiles complacently. “Which technically makes me your step-mommy, but let’s not go there, you–… Wait.” She peeks once more at the paper in her hands. “You cumguzzling… cowfucking… cuck fluffer.” Her brow draws up, impressed. “Huh, nice. Little alliteration going on there. Guess all those books paid off…”

“Can we skip to the part where you tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?” Homelander snaps impatiently, annoyed with the shenanigans.

“Alright, your dad sent me here to, you know… gloat,” Y/N says simply and shrugs, flashing him an easy smile. “He wanted you to know that he’s the one that put you into this damn bed. Funnily enough, he once woke up in this very room, tied to a bed. Not in a kinky way, though. Although, he probably would’ve loved that…” She chuckles fondly. “This place really changed him, but I doubt it’ll do the same for you.”

“And why the fuck isn’t he here telling me this, huh?” John asks with a challenging look. “I didn’t reckon him for a fucking coward.”

Y/N’s facade cracks a little at his words, a vicious smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, he was not a coward. He was the bravest man I’ve ever known. He was and is a fucking hero and surely getting celebrated as one.”

Y/N leans back in her chair and grabs the remote from the bedside table, switching on the TV. A news report flickers across the screen. It’s a recording from a few weeks ago, but Homelander doesn’t know that. It shows a row of celebratory parades held all over the country. A statue of Soldier Boy is being erected next to the Statue of Liberty.

Homelander finally defeated. Soldier Boy dies a hero in fierce combat. America breathes a sigh of relief.

Homelander watches the news and reads the taglines as they scroll in front of his eyes. His mouth is agape in bewilderment before Y/N switches the television off again.

“Everyone loves him… and fucking hates you. Like spit-on-your-grave hate,” she summarizes and watches his face darken. She rises from her seat and smiles down at him. “Have a nice life chained to that bed till you rot to death, you dickfaced, inbred, garbage-eating fascist.”

With a wide smirk, she then leans down and whispers into his ear, “Those were my insults, by the way.”

“Well, he’s dead, and I’m fucking alive, which means I won,” Homelander snarls from the bed with a contrivedly triumphant sneer, rattling with his handcuffs. He’s close to an explosion, she can tell.

“Yeah, you’d be telling yourself that if it makes you feel better…”

With a roll of her eyes, Y/N turns her back. As she marches out of the room, Homelander’s furious screams of agony haunt the clinic’s empty hallways, but there is no one here to hear them anymore.

Project Bloom has been disbanded. There’s only a handful of CIA nurses left, tasked to take care of Homelander until his hopefully slow and painful death. If someone decides to hold a pillow over his head at any point, she supposes she wouldn’t be that mad about it either.

Homelander is history. Soldier Boy is dead. And Ben is at rest.

Finally, Y/N can leave this godforsaken place behind her.

Y/N slides into the driver’s seat of her Prius, her head falling back as she exhales a long, exhaustive breath and rubs her temples. That damn brat gave her a fucking migraine with his whiny bitching.

“Finally,” it huffs from the backseat. “Took you long enough. How the fuck did it go?”

Y/N blinks into the rearview mirror and catches a set of expectant green eyes. Her hand drops from her temples as she chuckles.

“Your handwriting is horrible,” she says as a response and pulls out the paper, pointing at a word. “What the hell is that one?”

Ben leans forward between the seats and squints his eyes. “Mmh, pube flosser,” he supplies and frowns. “You didn’t use that one?”

Y/N sighs. “I think he’s got the gist without it.”

“Yeah, but that was a good one,” Ben mumbles and sighs disappointedly. “Did you play him the song?”

“Yes, I did. I played him the song and did everything else you wanted me to do,” she confirms patiently. “You know, you’ve got a weird knack for torture.”

“Thank you. It’s a gift.” Ben blushes and adjusts his baseball cap. “Did you sell it properly? You know, acting is a skill. The most important thing is to–”

“Ben! For the love of God, shut up or I’ll run you over with my car,” Y/N snaps. If he gives her one more acting lesson, she swears she’ll turn herself a widow.

“Fine.” Ben scoffs and rolls his eyes back. “Did he fucking buy it?”

“Yup, he surely thinks you’re dead. Like the rest of the world,” Y/N says and shoots him a smile over her shoulder.

He matches it and scratches his shaved chin, letting himself fall back into the seat. “Good. So, we’re done, right?”

“Yeah, he was the last stop on our list,” she replies quietly, her smile mixing with sadness. “How’s the arm?”

“Good, good…” He nods, his head bobbing thoughtfully as he clutches the scar on his right bicep. “Healing nicely. Finally got a real war wound. Always wanted one.”

“Okay, then… Let’s go, I guess.” With a heavy swallow, Y/N turns the ignition and starts the car.

“You know, I’d really love to kiss you now,” Ben notes, heartache swinging in his voice, and finds her eyes in the rearview mirror.

Y/N bites down on her lip and nods. “Yeah, wouldn’t that be nice…”

Three weeks ago…

A guard gestures down the hallway to the restrooms, but as soon as Y/N rounds the corner and is out of sight, she takes a turn in the opposite direction.

The good thing about a super secret government facility that’s not supposed to exist is that it only comes with the necessary manpower. There’s no abundance of guards at every corner. It’s quiet and desolate.

Moreover, no one expects a silly and weak human to cause any trouble. It surely has its advantages to be constantly underestimated.

Y/N finds the lab she’s passed on their way in, where she spied a glass fridge with vials of different colors. It’s guarded, but only by one person. It’s sloppy, honestly.

A flirty ambush, a stab to the neck with a dull pocket knife, a stolen keycard, and she’s inside. She drags the body in, too, leaving no trace of her crime behind.

Her fingers rummage through differently labeled flasks. There’s plenty of blue and yellow, but not the poisonous green she’s looking for.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” she mutters to herself as she desperately searches every drawer, every goddamn cabinet of the laboratory.

Out of breath, she stops and grips her temples, shoulders slumping as her mind spins. She wants to curse and scream, but that would draw too much attention. She knows she’s running out of time. No one takes that long to fucking pee. Decisions have to be made quickly.

She grabs a blue vial.

Rolling down her sleeves, she walks nervously back into the control room. Neither Mallory nor Edgar pays her any mind. Everyone’s eyes are glued to Soldier Boy and Homelander. Father and son. It’s biblical.

It’s as if she isn’t even there.

Her veins twitch, her blood boils. It’s tingling in her fingertips.

“Little help would be fucking appreciated!” Ben yells as he wrangles with a defunct Homelander.

Stan Edgar’s smile. So vicious. So cold. So calculating.

She knows the air in the room is about to shift. Her hands ball into fists by her side, gather their energy.

He gives his command. She screams.

“No! That wasn’t the fucking deal!”

Edgar doesn’t even look at her fully. A sideways glance is all she’s worth. “Take her out, too.”

Mallory sees it first, her eyes widening when she realizes what’s going on. It’s too late to warn anyone, however, her cries for help unheard as the acid rots her throat.

Edgar and two guards are next, metal weapons melt and mix with a puddle of human soup on the ground. Then, she goes after the one that got away.

The third guard hurries inside the prison cell, but Y/N slips through the crack of the door before it slams shut. The first gunshot goes clean through Homelander’s spine, but the second is deterred and only strikes Ben’s arm as the guard bubbles to a pond, a hot spring in the concrete.

Ben clutches his bleeding wound with a hiss before his green eyes lock with hers. They widen, and it takes him a moment to make sense of it all.

“Y/N, what–”

He takes a step forward. She takes a step back.

“Don’t come near me,” she orders him with panic blinking in her eyes like a flashing alarm. Her chest rises and falls with every anxious breath.

He holds his palms up high, surrendering. “It’s okay.”

Ben carefully walks around her and steps over the bubbling human puddle on the floor. He peeks outside the door, purses his lips, and nods in impressed satisfaction.

“Those little blobs outside–”

Y/N bobs her head at his unfinished question. “Mallory and Edgar plus two guards,” she replies.

“Nice job.” He whistles lowly and shoots her a devilish grin, taking a step closer. “Gotta say, I’ve never been more turned on by you. I’m getting fucking hard.”

“Ben!” Y/N scolds and backs away from him until she’s pressed against the wall. “I told you, don’t touch me,” she warns him again.

Ben’s smile fades as he recognizes her fear. His features soften, the jokes disappear. “Hey, it’s alright. Twenty-four hours and you’ll be fine again. Just gotta get through it.”

Y/N shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. Ben’s brow knits in confusion, his face stern.

“What-… Why are you shaking your head?”

A tear escapes and streaks her cheek. “It won’t go away in twenty-four hours,” she chokes out. “They were out of Temp V.”

Ben’s face drops at the realization. “No, no, no… Tell me you didn’t fucking do this!” he yells.

“They were going to kill you! What was I supposed to do?” Y/N explains tearfully.

“Die, Y/N! You were supposed to let me fucking die!” Ben’s jaw tightens as anger surges through his body.

“I didn’t let you die the first time! What made you think I would let you fucking die right now, huh?” Y/N cries through gritted teeth, her hands balling into fists. “Stop trying to kill yourself. You fucking promised me!”

Licking his lips, Ben swallows. He’s quiet, running a palm over his face while his mind races a mile a minute. “Okay… alright,” he says finally, his voice significantly calmer now. “Where did you get the Compound V from?”

“There’s a lab here,” she replies in the same calm manner.

“They got more?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Ben nods and finds her eyes. “Show me.”

Y/N presses her lips into a thin line, shaking her head once more. “No.”

His anger returns, nostrils flaring as his brow creases. “What d’you mean no?”

She swallows thickly. “Look, if you really wanna do this, then I won’t stop you,” she says, a pleading glimmer haunting her eyes. “But you finally got a chance. You can live the normal, boring life. You can go on road trips, see Mount Rushmore… I know you want to.”

Ben swipes his tongue over his teeth and averts his gaze. He pinches the bridge of his freckled nose, and Y/N can see that she’s right.

“I’m not even sure if I want powers,” she continues after a pause. “But at least this time it was my choice. And I don’t regret it if it means I got to save you, okay?”

When Ben finally looks at her, it breaks her heart. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Y/N gives him a sad smile. “I know… And you won’t be. I promise.”

Their attention is then temporarily drawn to a groan on the ground. Y/N’s brow furrows as she looks at Homelander’s body and notices his fingers twitching.

“Is he still alive?”

“Looks like it,” Ben replies. But as Y/N gets ready to take care of the problem, he stops her, holding out his flat palm. “Wait, wait, wait… Judging by the wound, he’s gonna be a fucking vegetable. It’s a waste of a kill.” He then grins mischievously at her. “I’ve got a better fucking idea. The other question is: how the fuck do we get outta this place… alive?”

Y/N’s mouth opens, but she doesn’t have an answer aside from a helpless shrug for him. This is as far as she has planned. Actually, she hasn’t planned any of this at all.

“I might be able to help with that,” a woman’s voice sounds behind her.

Y/N’s eyes widen as she recognizes the newcomer, her mouth parting anew in both surprise and shock. Ben, on the other hand, furrows his brow and glares at the stranger as if she had just spoken Russian.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ben prompts and then leans closer to Y/N, whispering in her ear, “Kill her.”

Y/N frowns, but her eyes are glued to the young woman in front of her, the familiarity sinking in. “I can’t,” she grits through her teeth.

“Why the fuck not?” Ben asks now loud enough for everyone to hear, including their guest.

“Because I’m the president,” the woman replies, smiling complacently. “And an old friend.”

Ben’s brow creases even more. “President of what? Cunt-town?”

“The United States, Ben,” Y/N tells him flatly. If she could kick his leg right now, she would. Leave it to her husband to get them both killed.

“Wait, a skirt is president?” Ben arches an eyebrow and mutters, “No wonder this country’s going to shit…”

“Charming,” Victoria Neuman says with a small sigh, but seemingly unbothered by the old-school views. Much like Y/N, she ignores the comment and doesn’t take offense to it. “I can see why you married him,” she adds wryly, looking at Y/N.

“Technically, she wasn’t elected. She was Vice President till President Singer died… accidentally,” Y/N explains, knowing Ben only reads the paper for the sports section and the comic strip. She swallows the thick lump in her throat, her heart thrashing wildly in her chest.

“Ah, I know what that’s code for.” Ben smirks coolly. “Bold move. I can fucking respect that.”

“Yeah, God knows some old fuck’s approval is what I’m looking for,” Neuman taunts, the sarcasm dripping from her red-painted lips.

Ben’s face drops as a bit of anger bubbles up inside of him. That bitch is lucky he’s V-free. He forces a tight-lipped smile. “I’m just saying I would’ve done the same thing, okay?”

“No offense, but you’re too much of a moron for that,” Neuman replies dryly.

Ben’s nostrils flare as he grits, “Offense fucking taken.”

“Okay!” Y/N tries to cut the tension with a nervous chuckle, pushing herself between Neuman and Ben. “How about you just tell us what we have to do to get out of this one?”

“See? She’s smart,” Neuman says and smirks at Ben. “I’ve always liked you, Y/N. You know, when Stan and Grace told me their plan of getting you two involved, I warned them. But they just wouldn’t listen. Everyone always underestimates the orphan. I should know, and so do you. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“Yeah, guess we’re MVP, after all, Nadia,” Y/N says and makes it a point to emphasize her real name.

Victoria just smiles in response. “So, since you took care of two problems for me, one in here and one out there, I have a proposal for you.”

“What is it?” Y/N knows she’s really out of choices. Either she agrees, or Ben and her will spend the afterlife together.

“I need a new Chief of Staff. I want you to do it. You’re smart, driven, and I know you wanna change shit around here. You wanna make a difference? This is your chance,” Neuman proposes. “You can’t take the cure again. It’s going to kill you. Trust me, we’ve done studies, and the results are not pretty.”

Y/N thinks for a few breaths. “What about Ben?”

“I guess he can live. It’s not like he’s a threat to anyone,” Neuman says and almost sounds bored. “Hell, for all I care, we can even make Soldier Boy a reformed hero for dealing with Homelander. He dies heroically in battle and quietly lives out his retirement in fucking Florida or some shit. We get him a big fucking statue. It’s good publicity.”

Y/N shares a look with Ben. “What d’you think?”

Thoughtfully, Ben clicks his tongue. He supposes it’s the best deal they can get, and declining it would probably get them nowhere, although he hates everything about it.

Swallowing, the former supe nods. “Alright, let’s fucking do this,” he agrees and states his conditions, “But for the record, I’m not moving to shit-ass Florida. I want a nice lake house in Minnesota.”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. Minnesota it is.”

“You okay? You ready?” Y/N checks as Ben has made it up the stone steps and halts in front of the big, red door.

“I don’t know. You really think this is a good idea? I’m not sure I can do this,” Ben says and insecurely eyes the entrance.

“You’ll do great, alright?” Y/N smiles encouragingly. “I believe in you.”

“I don’t wanna do this alone. What if I fuck up?” Ben asks.

Amused, Y/N chuckles. “Oh, you’re for sure gonna fuck up.”

The green-eyed man scowls. “That’s fucking reassuring. Thanks.”

“Look, this way you won’t be alone. I’ll wire you money every month and check in as much as I can, alright? You can always call me. This isn’t the end,” Y/N soothes his worries. “Maybe one day there’s a cure that’ll work, and we can be together again for real.”

She forces a weak smile to her lips, although she doesn’t believe her own words. But as long as Ben believes them, it’s enough.

“Okay.” Ben nods and takes a deep breath – in through his nose and out through his mouth. “I think I’m ready now.”

“Good.” Y/N sends him a smile. “You thought of a new name yet?”

“I’m still marinating on it,” Ben grumbles.

“Well, marinate faster. I have to introduce you.”

As they enter the orphanage, Y/N checks them in at the reception and fills out all necessary forms. Ben taps his foot nervously and scratches the back of his neck as they wait before one of Y/N’s former colleagues walks in with a little boy in hand, who’s no older than five.

Ben tries to smile but isn’t sure if it looks creepy, so he stops and opts for a more neutral expression. Y/N, however, immediately kneels down to the young boy and smiles brightly at him. It causes Ben’s heart to ache. She deserved to have all of this, but instead, she gave it all up for him.

“Hey, Benny,” she greets the boy. “You ready to meet your new adoptive parent?”

The boy scrunches his brow in careful suspicion as he eyes his future father-to-be. “I guess so,” he says. “Is that him? He looks like he drives a fucking minivan and offers candy to kids. Are you sure he’s not a pedo, Ms. Y/N?”

Ben purses his lips, biting the insides of his cheeks. The initial smile was definitely a mistake. They’re not off to a good start.

Y/N presses her lips together to muffle her snort. “Yes, Benny, I’m sure,” she replies patiently. “He’s cool, trust me.”

“Fine, whatever.” The kid rolls his eyes. “As long as he’s not fucking vegan like Ms. Teresa. They’re the worst.”

“Ugh, agreed! Do I look like a fucking plant-shitter to you?” Ben asks the boy rhetorically.

“No, you look like a fucking pedo to me,” the boy retorts.

Ben grins broadly at Y/N. “I like the kid. I think I get what you mean now. I see the resemblance.”

“Well, great. Glad you two are hitting it off… I think,” Y/N says with a crinkled brow, although a part of her is doubting her idea. Honestly, it’s wild she’s trusting him with a child. A year ago she would’ve thought that it was insane. “Alright, uh, Benny, this is, uhm–”

“Sam,” Ben proudly introduces himself with his fake name and shakes the kid’s hand. He then notices Y/N’s strange look. “What?”

“Nothing, just… you don’t really strike me as a Sam. That’s all,” she tells him in a whisper-tone, shrugging.

“Oh, really? Well, I don’t give a fuck. I love it,” Ben quips, grinning rather smugly.

“Fine.” Y/N sighs. She turns back to little Ben with a smile. “You guys ready to hit the road?”

“Where are we going?” Benny asks curiously and promptly takes Ben’s hand, dragging the older man through the doors. He’s been waiting to get out of the orphanage for a while, the excitement of finally being able to leave visible in every step he takes.

It’s a fresh start for both of them.

“Uh, Mount Rushmore,” Ben answers.

“Cool! Can we get burgers on the way there? I’m starving.”

“Sure can, kid.”

Y/N can see Ben’s initial hesitance until he eventually accepts it and eases into the situation, holding the boy’s hand tightly. He helps the kid into the car, even puts the seatbelt on, and shuts the door behind him.

Her heart twinges as she watches the two, wishing she could go with them if things were different. However, she knows the risk is too big. She would never forgive herself if she hurt either of them. She doesn’t trust herself enough yet. Maybe someday she can.

“You okay?” Ben asks as he sees the unshed tears brimming in her eyes. He’d dreaded this day for the past few weeks, hoping she’d still change her mind. He hates that this is goodbye, but he supposes he has to set her free now.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Y/N says with a forced smile, but a tear escapes and rolls down her cheek.

“C’mere.”

Y/N protests as Ben slings his arms around her and pulls her flush against him, holding her tightly. He hasn’t touched her since that night, but he doesn’t care anymore. He presses his lips against hers and tastes her one last time.

Breathlessly, Y/N withdraws and sniffles. “Are you fucking insane? I could kill you.”

Ben simply smiles at her. “Hey, if I die kissing you, then that’s a fucking great way to go out. ‘Sides, insanity is contagious,” he quips and sends her a wink. “Thank you… for everything, you know?”

“You’re welcome,” she says quietly and swallows harshly as the tears fall freely now. Not every film has a happy ending. “I guess I’ve done my job as your sponsor. You’ve been successfully rehabilitated.”

Ben snorts. “If by that you mean I’m fucking boring and responsible now then yeah, you’ve done your job.”

“You won’t be bored for long. The kid’s already trying to hotwire the car,” Y/N tells him, laughing.

“Wha–” Ben spins around and points a warning finger at the boy. “Ay! Hands in your fucking lap!”

The kid raises his palms in surrender and yells, “Hurry the fuck up!”

With a shaking head, Ben turns back to her. “Gotta watch that kid like an eagle,” he mutters. He exhales a dreaded breath and licks his lips. “So, I guess this is goodbye, huh?”

Y/N smiles softly, the corners of her mouth reaching her dimples. “Maybe.”

Little Ben gets me every time 😂 Alright, now you may yell and complain, but I love this bittersweet ending 🥲 (But of course, you're welcome to send in requests. Whether it's deleted scenes, bonus shots of a potential future, or some fun Big Ben/Little Ben drabbles)

Thank you so much for reading, for your gifs and comments! It's so appreciated! Without them, this would only be half the fun 🤍

I'll announce future plans soon. The final five of Plastic Hearts will probably be next up. Get ready 'cause it's another wild one! 🌟

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[serenescribe]

the once (and many) prince(s) Twisted Wonderland | 3.3k Summary: Silver is, has always been, and will always be, the crown prince of his kingdom. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54424864 Collaboration with @ohsleepie | Potential spoilers for elements of Chapter 7

Hi everyone! @ohsleepie and I are back at it again with another collaboration based on his wonderful "The Prince and his Physician" AU! This fic is meant to act as a companion story of sorts to the Malleus-focused "the prince's physician," this time focusing on Silver within the AU! Once again, this fic features incredibly beautiful and amazing art drawn by Sleepie; please check him out and follow him, if you haven't already!

I hope you all enjoy!

The worst part of reincarnation, Silver thinks, is the constant cycle of relearning everything all over again.

Okay, perhaps it would be a bit of a stretch to call it the worst part. There are many negatives, many downsides, far too many to count, to being stuck in a loop of constantly dying and reincarnating. But this particular aspect is, in Silver’s honest opinion, one of the worst out of them all.

There is a bookshelf carved from expensive ebony that sits in his chambers, nestled against one side of the wall. There are several bookshelves in his room, but this is the only one that Silver ever uses, filled from top to bottom with centuries worth of journals — leather-bound books gilded with gold and silver, every detail immaculately painted and carved, the cover opening to expensive parchment made from calves. He tends to absentmindedly run a hand along the spines, eyes glazing over the muted leather colours, before plucking out a book, and reading it through.

Silver only lives a good seventeen years at best, always dying before crossing the pinnacle into adulthood. How much of those seventeen years consist of just… reading? There are, of course, his early years, where he is much too infantile to read and write. But he barely has a few years of reading simple children’s stories before the latest journal is pressed into his hands, and he is briefly explained about the details of his curse.

He pores over the words of those who came before him — the Silvers who came before him, his previous iterations, all dying to form the next one. Their handwriting ghost his own, not just similar but straight up identical, and if he stresses his brain hard enough, he can almost conjure up wispy, fading memories of putting a quill to paper, ink curling across the page in the same, sweeping cursive.

And yet, it is a necessity to read all of it, all over again. Because Silver remembers — but not enough.

His memories are shattered, like an ancient mirror that has been cracked right through the middle, fractured into thousands of tiny, individual pieces. It is akin to a kaleidoscope of lifetimes; when he gazes into this metaphorical mirror, a thousand Silvers stare back, each one reflecting his exact appearance, yet distinct and different in their own ways. And yet each piece is but a shard; Silver remembers only the smallest bits of each past life, the pieces coming together to form a jumbled jigsaw of sharp-edged recollections.

He has lived far too many lifetimes as Silver — the crown prince of his kingdom, the only living heir of their royal family. He has lived far too many lifetimes as a Silver — distinctly different with each rebirth, living a short number of years until the day he inevitably dies.

Silver is immortal, and yet he is not. He lives on as the royal, the prince, a beacon of hope—

But Silver the person changes, with each new looping cycle.

(And so he reads through their journals, no matter how much it exhausts him.)

Many a time, his gaze wanders to his bedroom window.

As the sole heir to the royal family, Silver resides in the largest chambers of the castle, a sprawling set of multiple rooms, from a drawing room to receive guests, to his private bedroom where he slumbers at night. What this also means is that he is privy to the best views of everything within his kingdom, from the area stretching across the castle grounds, to the rest of the kingdom beyond tall and guarded stone walls.

There are many things for him to peer at, but today, he is gazing at the soldiers’ barracks again. They have their own section of the castle, tucked out of the way, but Silver can view them from the sanctity of his study, a room where he pens his thoughts in his journal and reads through old ones.

The emotion that dwells within him is nigh imperceptible, difficult to describe. It feels as though someone has tied a rope around his ribcage, double-knotting it and pulling it tight before tugging at it, and pulling him forward. There are twinges and pangs that cross his heart, a hollow cavern yawning as his soul collapses into itself.

He feels this as he stares out the window at the soldiers training in their courtyard. His eyes fixate on the swords in their hands, at the way they slash and thwack their weapons against straw-stuffed training dummies. Occasionally, he will spot the soldiers gathering together, jumping and yelling as two of them spar with wooden swords, all of them oblivious to his peeping.

He wants this. He longs for this. He—

“Your majesty?”

Silver blinks. It takes him a split second, pulling himself out of his thoughts, shoving away the deep desires that permeate his heart, but he quickly turns around, eyes fixating on the familiar figure in the doorway.

“Malleus,” Silver greets, shoulders relaxing as a smile slips onto his face. Of course it is Malleus; there are few who have his explicit permission to enter without needing to knock, and his physician is one of them. He waves his hand, ushering him in. “How long have you been standing there? Come on in, take a seat wherever you’d like. And what have I said about the formalities?”

Malleus is here for another check-up, and Silver gladly acquiesces. He can think of no other person he trusts more with his very life and soul than Malleus himself. He allows the man to lead him through familiar routines, magic permeating his body as he searches for something Silver cannot see, before shifting to more physical methods of testing Silver’s health.

Still, as Malleus works in a near-silence, preferring to focus and get his duties done before they can relax and spend some time together, Silver cannot help his thoughts from wandering off again. His desires are not new; he has seen them expressed across multiple journals, scrawled in identical, curling scripts across expensive parchment. The desire to pick up a weapon, to learn to fight and defend, to learn how to wield a blade like a true prince — that is what he so desires.

But he is frail, and the council insists that he stays in, that he can learn to fight once they break the curse. So never, Silver thinks bitterly, eyelids slipping shut as he feels cold claws brush against his forehead. Never in this lifetime, and not while I’m alive.

Malleus is many things.

To the populace, he has many names, many signifiers, viewed in many different ways. He is a blessing and a curse, for his magic is by far the only thing that can cure their prince, but all of it comes at the cost of his very existence itself: A fae; a deplorable, wicked creature; a monster that is the very scum of the earth itself. The history of their kingdom is written in the blood of their ancestors, shed through grievous wounds inflicted by the sharp claws and gleaming maws of the fae that slaughtered them all.

To the nobles, the members of the council who govern over the kingdom in Silver’s stead, making decisions on his behest, Malleus is something they tolerate. They do not speak of what will happen after the curse is broken and Silver is cured, but Silver knows, from their whispers and sly glances, from the words penned by the others who came before him, that they wish for nothing more than to rid the world of the last of the wicked — not, and never, fair — fae.

Humans gaze upon Malleus with distrust, wariness, abject hatred.

But for Silver, Malleus is one simple thing alone.

To him, Malleus is his friend.

There are two distinct points in the history of Silver’s incarnations: Before Malleus, and After Malleus.

The difference is like night and day. The journals of before are dismal and depressing, imbued with a bone-deep loneliness that carried all the way through into the parchment pages, stained in the very ink used to scrawl thoughts across the pages. The Silvers of that time tried — truly, they did — to cling to hope, to believe in what their people believed: that one day, their prince would be freed from the shackles of his horrific curse.

But with the passing decades, the many years, the many Silvers that lived and died, they all seemed to suffer from the same truth: there was no cure in sight.

And then there was Malleus.

The guards found a young fae child today, lurking in the borders between what remains of the valley and the kingdom, his own handwriting reads, the parchment yellowed with age, the ink long-since dried. This, Silver knows, is the first point at which Malleus is mentioned, though not yet by name, tucked away in a notebook he recognises by the distinct fern-green colour of its cover. Even now, as I write this, I still cannot believe the abysmal state he was in upon meeting him. No child, whether human or otherwise, should have that many injuries on their body, and though I have had a stern word with those who found him, I fear for his safety.

He shall remain with me for the time being.

Though Silver does not have favourite journals — for such a concept is lost on him when all the journals are such a drag to read, recounting the day-to-day experiences of his past selves, a depressing fog seeming to permeate every page of words — this one is perhaps the closest one to such a concept. Because this journal is different — he clings to every word, phantom feelings of a fierce protectiveness flaring within him, as though this particular incarnation has stirred somewhere deep within him and seized his soul.

It is so painfully obvious how much his past self had cared for Malleus — taking care of him, granting him such patience and endless kindness, spending time with him teaching him the human tongue, of how to read and write. There is a page filled with endless delight upon learning the fae’s name, ink smudged together where the page reads Malleus. Their activities did not end at the crude essentials; there are sweeping recounts of games played together, of crayon drawings and delicious platters of sweet treats — and Silver aches when he reads every word of it, possessed by a longing to return to those simpler times, when Malleus was not his physician, and was merely his friend.

And this care is made so apparent by the last few pages, the cursive made shaky by the cold, approaching winds of Death. To the next Silver, it reads, take care of Malleus. If there is any hope of breaking this curse that ails me, it lies within the powers of the fair folk. And yet, the rest of the page is filled with sentiments, rather than explaining how Malleus is the key to breaking the curse:

I wish this could last forever, these sweet days of playing together. For much of my life, I have been haunted by a bleak loneliness, isolated by my circumstances, and haunted by the weight of all our pasts. I have never had any companions my age, and I know from my readings that all of my predecessors shared the same lonely fate. To indulge in such fleeting luxuries, to have someone to speak to as though we were on the same level, intimately so— it is a happiness unlike anything I have ever felt before.

Blotchy circles stain the pages, the ink smeared in places.

Things may be different from now on. I understand that the council wishes for him to begin his work when the next cycle begins. And it is with that knowledge that I must remind the next Silver: Malleus may be our physician, and he may be tasked with breaking our curse—

But before that, before any of that, he is our friend.

Never forget that, for as long as we may live.

“Thank you for joining me today.”

Wispy trails of steam rise from two cups of tea, sitting in elegant saucers. Before Silver, and in the middle of the round tea table, is a small spread of sweet delicacies: scones accompanied by small glass jars of jam; finger sandwiches, some filled with goat’s cheese and roasted pepper, others filled with cucumber and salmon; and a small, round cake, tiny enough that it’s perfect for just the two of them.

“Of course,” Malleus replies, his voice smooth as usual. He raises his head slightly, slitted-eyes roaming over the tea-time spread before them, before he dips his head. “I thank you for the invitation, your majesty.”

“We have been over this many times, Malleus,” Silver says, unable to hide the exhaustion that spills into his voice. “You need not refer to me by such formalities.”

He knows why Malleus does so, of course. The answer is written across several different journals — It is difficult for him to reacquaint himself with us in each new cycle, and I truly cannot blame him. How alienating must it be, to witness someone you grow close to, time and time again, look upon you with no familiarity in his eyes? There is another reason too, though one of mere speculation, for Malleus has never confessed the truth by his own tongue — Earlier today, I witnessed a council member chide Malleus for regarding me with such familiarity during our meeting. I do wonder if this may be another factor into those needless formalities.

Thankfully, Malleus always obliges whenever Silver asks this of him — though whether it is because Silver is his prince, or because Silver is his friend, he never knows. “Is there any occasion for this meeting, Prince Silver?” Malleus asks, as Silver beckons for him to help himself, unwilling to dig in first when the fae’s eyes are flickering over the food, glinting with hunger. I wonder if he has forgotten to eat again, Silver thinks. Malleus carries over a scone and a sandwich with his utensils, leaving the cake intact. “Not that I mind it, by any means; it is always a pleasure to spend time with you.”

“There is no special occasion,” Silver answers, finally reaching for the spread as Malleus cuts into his meal. “I… only wished to spend time with my friend.”

Their relationship is a strange, tenuous thing. There is undoubtedly a bond there, from the way that Silver always feels so safe and secure in Malleus’ presence, and the gentle way that Malleus treats him, always appearing whenever Silver calls for him. There are even some rare occasions where the facade of dutiful physician slips, a careful veneer crafted for the sake of survival in the court, and Silver relishes those times, watching as Malleus’ expression sours, the stinging barbs that spit from his mouth more endearing than his usual regal elegance.

But all the same, compared to the earlier journals after Malleus’ appearance, filled with much more warmth and life — even as he learnt his role, Malleus would still happily chat with those Silvers, accept his offers to play games, spend the night with him on many occasions — there is a gap between them now. Driven by age, driven by time, and driven by the eternal, scathing judgement of the many humans of this kingdom, who cycle in and out of life and death, but are all fuelled by the same spiteful hatred and prejudice, taking it out on the only fae they know.

Still, Silver tries his best. He knows Malleus does too.

He sees it in the way the fae’s shoulders relax, expression smoothing out at the edges. “In that case,” Malleus says, after a moment’s pause, “let us indulge. How have you been lately… Silver?”

It is a good day for the two of them, Silver reflects. They drink their cups of tea and drain the pot of its excess drink, and the tray of delicacies are filled with nothing but crumbs by the time they’re done.

Even the cake, a dessert regarded with conflicting feelings by Malleus, is finished by the end of it. For once, Malleus eats his slices with a small smile, both their forks scraping the bottom of the plate as they help themselves to their fill.

Death no longer scares him, unlike everyone else. Death, in its own way, is a comfort, an inevitability: Silver knows he will reach his demise at the same time, at the same age. Very few people can ever be privy to such knowledge, going through their lives not knowing if they will pass on at age fifteen or fifty.

In that vein, what does it matter if Silver chooses to speed up the process?

He is not allowed proper access to weaponry. The council states that it is because there is no need for him to pick up a blade when he has guardsmen patrolling the halls around his room at all times, but Silver knows better. This is not the first time he has longed to die earlier than he usually does; he can count the other occasions on two of his hands, based on cryptic journal endings dated months earlier than they usually do.

To an extent, a part of him wonders what the point of it is. He will die, inevitably; why inflict such pain and suffering if he knows he’s going to come back? What is the point of it all?

The point, Silver tells himself, is that there isn’t one. He’ll always come back. He’ll always return — and so why should he languish and rot in his bed as his body slowly gives out on him? Why waste those months feeling his muscles weaken and his grasp on reality slip?

Why not do everyone the honour of ending it early, ending it now?

(The silver blade of the dagger, requested from some rookie soldier who knows no better than to deny this particular request from the prince, is cold against the flesh covering his heart.)

Silver is so, so tired. His life is stagnant, unchanging; he lives and he dies the same person, the same name, the same cursed prince of the same bloody kingdom, every childhood filled with days of reading the same handwritten journals signed with the same, stupid name.

When will he be allowed to rest? The weight of a legacy, the weight of his people’s hopes and dreams, drag him down, like impossibly heavy weights that are shackled to his limbs, pulling and pulling until he’s flat against the ground. He never asked for this — and god, it’s so selfish to even think of that, but it’s true.

Nobody ever thinks about him, Silver the person. They are only ever concerned with Silver the prince, Silver their saviour.

Except—

A memory flashes to mind, unbidden — of twisting, dark horns and raven-spun hair, and slitted green eyes that crinkle at the corners as he smiles at him.

(His hands tremble.)

Malleus.

The name fills him with an ache. If there is anything Silver can take comfort in as he straddles the line between life and death, it is simply that Malleus will always be there. Malleus is a constant throughline throughout Silver’s life, and while Silver may ebb and flow, weaving in and out of the many, many years of a fae’s long lifespan, Malleus will always be there.

And though the thought of that face, rendered a child once more in its shock and sadness, causes his chest to knot itself with hesitance and reluctance, Silver steadies himself.

The humans may come and go, live and die, but Malleus will always remain.

(And the blade plunges down.)

[meownotgood]

let us live, if we must die. / chapter three: eclipse

You are a witch, and since the purging of all magic, you've been forced to live a life of solitude and secrecy. Your destiny was always beyond your control — until, by a pure twist of fate, you unknowingly fell for the kingdom's only prince. 

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pairing: prince!aki x witch!reader

word count: 15.3k

tags: fantasy au, royalty au, reader is fem, reader has many Thoughts, hurt / comfort, aki comforting reader, angst, but don't worry they're figuring things out

notes: thank you for patiently waiting for this chapter, I hope you enjoy it!! the next chapter will be long as well, so I appreciate your patience again... love you and appreciate you

masterlist read on ao3 join the taglist here!

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You always knew Aki was royalty. 

In the time since you first hid away in this forest, you've learned to take necessary precautions. You track the whereabouts of demons each time you go out, drawing them away with spells, and watching for fresh footprints. You learned to attune yourself completely to the magic circle you created, to be sure you'll catch the faint waves of an unfamiliar aura the moment it enters. 

Spells can summon certain books from a handful of easy to find materials, and those books can then be used to summon more. Your mother's grimoires, the few you managed to take with you when you fled the city, became your gateway into a world you'd never once known. 

Deciphering magical tomes takes patience. It's a lengthy process, but it's worth it. You've learned the means to make valuable potions, and you've mastered spells that could save your life: invisibility, hypnosis, spell-shields. With so much time on your hands, and with the unbound freedom to do so, you have no reason to ever stop honing your magic. 

You can always learn more, you can always be safer. You must be prepared for every situation, and you need to take all outcomes into account. No-one can be trusted; no-one but yourself. In the moment of truth, you can't afford to make any mistakes. You need to be ready. For anything, and everyone. 

And so, when an inexplicable, elven, injured stranger comes knocking — and promptly passes out — at your door, the first damn thing you're going to do is check all his pockets. 

It doesn't take the wisdom of a thousand year old wizard to know he was from the city. The kingdom is the only notable settlement for miles. There's small towns here and there. Farmland you'll pass if you're making your way to the gates. No offense to him — to Aki, right, you still need to learn his name — but he doesn't seem like a farm boy. Or an adventurer. Or royalty, for that matter. 

You couldn't have known. Obviously, he'd be from the city, but royalty? An alleged demon-hunter and a man of royalty, how does that make any sense? 

Staring up at the shadow-filled ceiling of your bedroom, you pull your blanket up to your chin, and rub your pained temple with two fingers. You can't seem to get comfortable, no matter how much you've been tossing and turning in your bed. The living room has been silent. Aki is probably asleep now. Your mind can't seem to stop racing, either, and perhaps that's why you can't catch any sleep. 

The clothes he showed up in were simple. Racking your brain and snuggling into your bed, you bring yourself back to the moment you met him. You recall the discomfort in his expression, the crimson on his palm. The way moonlight framed him with dark hues and fuzzy edges. 

You don't know enough about jewelry to be able to tell if the earrings on his pointed ears are the expensive sort. They're simple, black, and made with smooth metal. You remember seeing a gemstone you couldn't recognize, delicately placed in the center of a hanging star. Now that you're thinking about it, they could be worth more than your life, if you're unlucky. Or maybe they're worth nothing, you suppose. Just the sort of imitations they sell for substantial mark-ups at early morning markets. 

After the mysterious stranger passed out on your doorstep, you dragged him inside and out of the rain. You didn't have a choice in the matter at the time, really. He was already limp and Gods, was he heavy. Setting up the cot and plopping him onto it was the true challenge. 

Miraculously, you found no other major injuries once you inspected him. And thankfully, most of the plant life you collected that day is perfect for healing. 

Thankfully for him, at least. You weren't exactly thrilled to spend your entire stock on someone else. You'll have to put your plans to practice potion-making on hold, you suppose. In any case, he came at just the right time. Thank the Gods for that. 

The gash on his side was as dire as you thought. It was a jagged, clearly painful slice, no doubt made by the trained swipe of a demon's talons, and enough to make you wince when you removed his shirt to examine it. Demons usually aim for the throat, whenever possible. Aki is lucky he managed to throw one of them off its aim. 

You tended to the wound quickly, cleaning it with fresh water, and salving it with herbs. Finally, you wrapped his torso in makeshift bandages, tearing off parts of your cape when you began to run out. 

You rinsed his shirt, scrubbing what stains you could out of the fabric. Upon further inspection, you noticed his hands were covered in scrapes. His fingers are long and thin. Pretty, almost. His palms were calloused, rough to the touch. Dried blood was caked into his skin. Carefully, you scrubbed the blood from his palms and his knuckles, while you tried to keep your gaze from drifting up to his face. A pointless endeavor, in the end. 

His hair fanned out around him, still slightly-damp. His brows were pinched as he slept. Warm firelight danced softly over his features: a sharp jaw, a straight nose, messy bangs. You forced yourself to look away, your face growing hot. You can't get distracted. Before he wakes, you have more important things you need to take care of. 

Once you were all finished patching him up, you leant close to make sure he was still sleeping; his chest rose and fell steadily, he exhaled in slow, calm breaths. Then, you proceeded to rummage through what he had on him. If you couldn't pick his brain yet, your best shot at discerning who he is or what he's after would be to search his belongings — and that you did. 

His pants had no pockets on the back, but two in the front. The left pocket was empty, save for one silver coin. Money means nothing to you, and so you returned it, right where it was. A promise to get out of your hair eventually was the only payment you needed. 

The other pocket, however, did carry something. Something very, very terrible. 

In the right pocket of his trousers, you found a small, gold medallion. It was smooth, circular, with a sparkling blue gem in the middle — reminiscent of the sea, and the color of his eyes. Intricate engravings surrounded the stone: runic text you couldn't quite make out in the low light, and the sun, the moon. Along with a winged dragon, curled around the empty space. 

Your heart sank so deep in your chest you just about let it drown, and that's when you knew you were absolutely doomed. 

This is the kingdom's symbol, the kingdom's royal crest. Commoners and knights are allowed to carry similar motifs, but only someone of great importance would have a medallion with this stone, and these exact symbols. 

Sapphires are only meant to be worn by descendants of royal families. They're priceless. Imitations can rarely capture their luster, although creating them is punishable with prison time — and Gods, with the way this gem sparkles when you hold it close to the fire, your head is practically spinning. 

You hold the medallion in shaky, unsure hands, unable to tear your gaze away. The room begins to twirl around you, and the gem inside shimmers, with a depth unlike anything you've ever seen. As though worlds upon universes are hidden inside it. Your throat feels as dry as a desert, and your heart won't stop hammering. You glance up. None the wiser, the man you've saved is still sleeping peacefully, his features soft, and his lips parted slightly as he lets go of faint, steady breaths. 

Oh, you've really done it this time. Could you have crossed paths with anyone worse? 

Perhaps he's a thief. He could have stolen the medallion, snatched it right out of the pockets of some oblivious royal advisor, and now he's hiding out here to avoid getting caught. As much as you want to believe that, as much as you want to imagine you don't have a man of importance in your cottage right now, that conclusion hardly makes sense. 

This man, a thief? And one skilled enough to steal a royal medallion, of all things? With the way Aki came stumbling into your magic circle and onto your doorstep, you doubt he'd know subtlety if he was hit over the head with it. 

He doesn't talk like how you imagined royalty would — Granted, how does a royal person talk? You always imagined some sort of overly flowery, fancy speech. Like the kind in the books you've read, about places and tales you'd much rather escape to. 

Aki. You've never heard a name quite like his before. Just a few syllables, just a few letters. Kings and princes and squires usually have much fancier names, don't they? The knight in the book you've been reading is named Heinrich Vincent, and the princess is called Miss Edith Violet. Perhaps only the most important people have important names. Or perhaps, those books are just as you assumed they were: fairytales, and nothing more. 

Aki is someone special then, he must be. That's your assumption — it's the only assumption you can come to, despite how the very thought makes your chest ache. He's probably a royal guard, someone with a bit of fighting experience, who thought he could stand a chance against a forest full of devils. Maybe he's some duke's distant cousin. He could be a mere knight, accepted as royalty after he became a princess' suitor. 

Honestly, he could be anything, for all you care. Your magic is what caused him to nearly die out there. It was your spell, your doing that drew the demons together. You, heralding demons with your magic, like you're one of the archmages the history books warn about. 

Your magic. Damn it all. The predicament you've found yourself in is so much worse than you ever could have imagined. 

As the night stretched on and the rain battered your cottage, your more present problem helped to keep your worries at bay. You kept busy, preparing his medicine, and tending to the roaring fireplace. He mumbled in his sleep, occasionally. It wasn't really anything of note, merely fragmented sentences that barely made sense. Mumbled swears and slurred, barely-there apologies to no-one in particular. 

When the man awakened, you held your resolve. You ignored the skip in your heart when his soft eyes met yours. You kept your unpracticed voice from wavering, and didn't shy away from any conversations. 

It's been a very long time since you've heard someone else talk, especially this much. Those knights from ages ago only spared you a moment and a handful of words. Your own voice is comfortable, a melody your ears would gladly be wrapped in. You hate this, though. You despise the way you sound when your tone is threatening to wobble. The lump in your throat is all his fault; you can't think when he's speaking to you, can't focus on anything but the firelight as it flickers over his face. 

And Aki's voice is smooth. Ridiculously smooth. He sounds assured when he speaks, his tone deep, words careful. You can't help but be hung onto everything he says to you, your spine tingling and your heart racing. It's strange, to hear a voice besides your own for once, and to have someone else filling the empty space in your quiet little cottage. 

Aki's voice holds the ocean, every word plunging you into deeper depths, until he has warm waves rolling gently over your shoulders. Heat and exhilaration engulf you whole at the simplest of sentiments. Thinking to yourself, you toss and turn again, your worn, wooden bed creaking slightly from your movement. Even now, you can't help but think of him. You picture his voice, quiet and calm. You imagine the soft smiles he gave you, and your veins surge with a feeling you can't possibly describe. 

You could listen to him speak forever. But Aki and forever are two luxuries you aren't afforded. 

If he ever discovers who you are or what you've done, you won't even get a trial. He would hate you. You could never be allies, not with the secrets you hold. Not when he is royal, and you are a witch. 

A man with such important ties to the kingdom, royalty or not, could make your fate whatever he wished. They'd schedule your execution for the very next morning, surely. The sooner you're disposed of, the better it is for the land. Hundreds would crowd the square to gawk at the witch a nobleman captured. Your poor mother would be frowning upon you from the heavens, as she watched her only child suffer her same fate. 

Even as your eyes met those of your executioner, your hands tied behind your back with your wrists rubbed raw from the rope, and your head rested over a thick piece of wood, you wouldn't fight back. None of them would see an ounce of your magic, for better, or for worse. It would die with you, and everything would be your fault. You should have been more careful. Less kind. 

Would Aki want to dispose of you himself? Could he be the one to bring his blade down on your neck? Would his normally-gentle expression be contorted in disgust, guilt, or conviction, as he whispered a deathly quiet I'm sorry to you, before his hands tightened on the hilt? 

You aren't sure, nor do you want to know. If he ever proves dangerous, in order to survive, you would have to take matters into your own hands. He seems to trust you now, but if you became enemies, if you were ever forced to —

Aki's soft, slight smile drifts through your mind right then. In your dark bedroom, you can't help but groan, and cover your face with your hands. 

No, you couldn't, you wouldn't. And it isn't just because it's him. It isn't simply because Aki is inexplicably kind and intriguing and the first person to speak with you in years. When you imagine him discovering the truth, learning who you are and deciding he hates you, a metaphorical knife twists into your gut. You'd rather he just take you to the kingdom and have you dealt with there, because even with your life on the line, you know you couldn't hurt him. 

This man could very well lead you to your end. So why, why did you tell him to stay? 

Death has always scared you, always haunted you. You've heard the stories they tell of mages, tales painting them as wicked beings who crush those who stand in their way under their feet. You want to be better. Pin you as soft, weak, or everything in between, you hardly care. Magic was meant to help, not harm. One day, perhaps far after your lifetime, magic and death won't walk hand in hand. One day, you hope you might be free. 

And Aki — he would have died without you, you're sure of it. He might not be an adventurer, but you can buy that he's an experienced fighter. His body is covered in scars, in slashes left by devil claws or teeth. His palms are rough and calloused, which would make sense if he often wields a sword. He claimed to be a devil hunter, and when he spoke, the clearest sense of desperation present in his voice, you couldn't help but believe him. 

You are a mage. A terrible, less than human blight, according to those in the kingdom. And Aki might be royalty. If you ever wound up following him to the city like he offered, you could be punished for even laying a single finger on him. 

But were you just supposed to let him perish? 

When you stood frozen in place at your door, clutching your heart as thunder broke through the night sky above, you were reminded of the kingdom. Of the death you witnessed there: the deaths of strangers, your acquaintances, your family. Your mind whirled with the image of the man you saw through the door's peephole. Chest heaving, blood dripping over his fingers; dull crimson, like the blade of an executioner's sword. 

You've seen the way one looks when light is slipping from their eyes, with no hope left of clinging onto it. You imagined the sapphire spark to Aki's eyes fading into nothingness; crushed, and crumpling. Right then, your mind must have made itself up. 

Aki doesn't deserve to die. Royalty be damned, he doesn't deserve to be eaten by those demons, left behind in an endless forest, afraid and alone. Trusting him here might wind up as the worst, most regrettable decision you've ever made. And yet, he has already trusted you with his life, hasn't he? 

Your heart just needs to take the first, fatal step. Perhaps you need to let yourself trust. 

Fucking hell. You need to stop your incessant thinking and let yourself sleep, that's what. Honestly, you've never felt this stressed in your entire life. How in the world are you supposed to handle this? Handle him? 

He won't discover you're a mage, you'll make certain of that. You can't afford to be naive, no matter how you might be feeling. It doesn't matter how fast your heart is pounding right now as you lie in bed, sleepless, unable to keep your steady stream of thoughts from flowing back to him. Simply put, it's your fault he's in this mess in the first place — and you're going to be the one to fix it. 

With a few small adjustments, you can make sure all of the magical items in your cottage are properly hidden away. You could heal him faster, if you were allowed to use magic. A potion would have him feeling better in no time, a healing spell could seal his wound almost immediately. Though, obviously, you'll have to work with the old ways for now. You'll need to make sure you're waking up early tomorrow to gather the necessary materials. 

His wound will need to be tended to frequently, to keep it from getting infected. You'll prepare a concoction of herbs for him to take twice a day, and that'll help to keep his energy up. Rest will be important too, of course. There's plenty of normal, boring books strewn around your cottage, if he needs something to put him to sleep. As long as everything goes to plan, he should be fine to leave in a couple of days. 

Right. Just a few days, and he'll be gone. The stranger you met by chance, who you saved on purpose, will fade into the forest until he becomes a fuzzy, unimportant blip in your memory. 

Somehow, the thought doesn't fill you with the relief you would've expected. 

In your cupboard, you still have some white-hazel left. Normally, the small, thin-petaled flowers don't grow during this time of year. You've decided to start keeping some extras as of late, just in case. White-hazel makes the mind foggy. The dried petals have to be sealed carefully in a jar, because the smell alone can get into your head. You would use small batches of it to ward away demons, before your distraction spells were perfected. 

You doubt you'll ever be able to forget him. However, with a potent enough dosage, if you gave Aki some of those petals, you could erase every memory he has of you. 

You'll allow him to stay, just long enough so he can recover. Once he's healthy, you'll send him on his way with a filled flask — a potion, infused with a hint of your magic. He'd only need to take a sip or two. Then, everything up until the moment he entered the forest would be lost. He wouldn't remember you, or your cottage, or the pain the demons brought upon him. It's better this way, really. 

In the meantime, you must avoid growing closer to him. Revealing even the smallest of details could put you at risk, before you have the chance to make good on your plan. He doesn't have to know your name. Nor anything about you. 

Aki is nothing more than a stranger, an unlucky coincidence, an empty promise. Ultimately, he will stay that way. 

When you eventually drift off to sleep, it isn't until hours later. Your heart stays tied up in knots, and you dream of nothing but a cold, shuddering darkness. 

— 

One thing's for sure, if Aki is a man of royal blood, he certainly doesn't act like it. 

He isn't… uncouth, as a fancy nobleman might call it. Actually, he's pretty damn polite. He always keeps his space in the living room tidy. His voice is gentle when he speaks to you, dripping with a thick sense of kindness you aren't at all used to. In the few days since he first started staying with you, he's been nothing but patient and respectful.

He's kept to resting, mostly. After the first night, you managed to move all of your spellbooks and magical items to your bedroom. By the second, you had properly concealed everything behind magic that should be impossible to detect. Although you weren't about to give him a reason, you finally made sure to mention he should continue sleeping in the living room, and avoid entering your bedroom under any circumstances. 

When you told him this morning, Aki didn't question it. He flashed you a slightly amused look, while he tugged on the laces of his boots to tighten them, and plainly, he answered, Of course. It's your bedroom, obviously I wouldn't go in. Do you take me as rude? 

Huh. No, he's far from rude, even though you never wound up formulating a response. He doesn't complain about the bitter herbs you have him take. He barely winces or grumbles while you tend to his wound, rewrapping his bandages. 

Sometimes you'd find him pacing around the living room to stretch his sore legs, but otherwise, he's been getting plenty of rest in his cot — just as you'd instructed. He's so quiet some days, if you're reading or tidying things in your bedroom, you'll tend to forget he's even there. Aki is different from what you were expecting, that's all. 

He's a good sort of different, though. Maybe it's your fault, for having such silly expectations in the first place. You thought people from the kingdom — especially people of royalty — were supposed to be stuck-up, selfish, boring. Overly-posh, and with nothing interesting to talk about besides themselves. 

You admired those from the castle when you were younger. You wanted to be noticed by them, or maybe you wanted to be them. Now, you can only imagine royalty as bland and heartless. They spend their days cooped up in their castles, tending to dull affairs. And for their nights, they attend such fancy dinners and parties, while the commoners in the kingdom are left to rot. 

Aki serves to defy all of those expectations. 

Granted, the moments you've spent together since the night you first took him in have been few and far between. He didn't seem to notice how you initially avoided him, and he didn't protest when you'd leave for the entire day to forage. He doesn't comment whenever you stow away, the door to your bedroom shut tight, while you keep to yourself for hours at a time. It's difficult to find words whenever he's near. You get choked up inside, your heart pounds in your ears like that of a frightened rabbit, and you aren't sure if it's because of the lingering fear, or perhaps the proximity. 

Tending to his wound shouldn't be the event your overthinking brain makes it out to be, but Aki sits so close, closer than anyone else has ever been. You can hear the echoes of his breathing, can feel his soft and scarred skin underneath your fingertips. His muscles tense as you press gently to the sore scrape on his side. 

Can he hear the quickened edge to your breathing, too? You wonder if Aki knows he's already killing you from the inside; no-one has ever trusted you like this, just as you've never trusted another. It's relieving to know your foolishness is mutual. 

Your conversations while you're patching him up are pleasant, albeit brief. They're space and silence fillers. Still, it's the only time where you truly get to talk to him. Where you can exchange more than a couple of words, at least. You know you only have yourself to blame, but you don't want him to realize you know more than you're letting on. You try to keep your time together and your questions to a minimum. 

Aki explains that although he's found himself in plenty of scuffles with devils before, he hasn't been wounded like this in quite a long while. Weaker devils rarely faze him, but this time, he was distracted. It'll be relieving to finally recover, he says. He wants to be able to move, to fight again. He's been growing a little stir-crazy here, apparently. 

In a hurry to leave, are you? You mumbled, while you carefully pressed a damp rag to his skin, your gaze focused on the task. The fireplace crackled from beside you, warming your limbs and chasing away the cold chill of the night. You miss the kingdom that much? 

I don't miss it at all. Aki answered, not missing a beat. He shivered from the coolness of the cloth, a fire-lit glow pooling over his slightly-tanned skin. I just feel like I could be more useful. I'm not accustomed to… to this. You're the first person I've ever owed my life to. The sooner I recover, the sooner I can begin finding some way to repay you. 

You wanted to reassure him repayment won't be necessary. In the end, you held your tongue. 

Aki continued, and with nothing else to fill the air, you listened. He's quite a good story-teller, in your opinion. As your fingers curiously felt the ridges of another deep scar on his stomach, Aki recounted the tale behind it: he was far from the city. Miles and miles, in fact. The devil he encountered was three times his size. It had a body made of bone, with a wolf-like, hollow skull, illuminated only by red eyes that shone like glowing, flickering flames. 

And you defeated it? You hum in slight disbelief, a brow raised; this time, you're looking up at him, bandages held loosely in your hands. All by yourself? 

Yes, all by myself, Aki answers, tone smooth and unflinching. His expression can't be read, but you swear you catch a hint of a barely-there smile on his lips. 

Defeating it was the easy part, He says, pointing to the jagged scar, Save for the blow it landed right here. I followed its trail into the mountains, and by the time I tracked it down, I was utterly lost. I slept out there for three days before I finally found my way back to the closest town. I showed up exhausted, hungry, and covered in every kind of scrape and bruise you can picture. 

You smooth out his bandages and secure them with a tight knot. Sounds like how we met. 

Yeah. Those townspeople weren't as kind as you are, though. They fed me river snails. 

Right then, you can't stop yourself from laughing. You're chuckling through your words — he sounded so damn serious — and you're gazing up at him with a rather playful grin. 

Snails? You question, Did they taste disgusting? 

Aki is smirking slightly, a potent spark burning in the back of his sapphire eyes. They were awful. Way worse than any medicine you could ever give me. I guess the people there thought the snails had healing properties- It took me a whole week to recover, by the way. And the inns were out of rooms, so can you guess where they had me stay? 

I'm not sure. Where? 

A brothel. 

When you freeze, your eyes going as wide as a full moon, Aki clears his throat, and he nervously glances between you and the fireplace. It was uneventful. Very, very uneventful. Definitely nothing like what you must be imagining- sorry. We should save the rest of those stories for another day. Right? 

You remember rolling your eyes, before you breathed an amused exhale, and proclaimed that yes, it certainly sounds like a stupid story, but you would like that. 

The logical side of you says you probably shouldn't. Aki isn't your ally, nor could he ever be your friend. Looking forward to the few moments you spend together is pointless, when the both of you will be forced to forget them in a few day's time. 

Aki's experiences are enthralling. His voice is like a damn vice, lulling you into getting lost in him. You haven't been anywhere but the kingdom many ages ago and this forest. But Aki has seen towns, oceans, and mountains. In pursuit of the devils he's set out to slay, he's been to places you could only dream of. He is a dream you cannot have, a friend you must not make. 

As the days stretch on and on, and as your forgotten dreams meld with the intricate stories Aki recounts for you, those little talks seem to stick inside your mind. 

If only things were different. If only you weren't you, and he wasn't what you know him to be. A man of royalty, conversing with a witch. 

Darkness will always be ruined by light. 

For now though, you have to focus on the present. Aki has been healing well from his injury. In only a few days, he's recovered most of his energy. Although he still needs a bit more time before he can put a true amount of strain on himself, he's fine to walk, at least. Fine to leave the cottage, as long as he isn't wandering far. 

And he's well enough that he can finally join you, as you venture into the depths of the forest to search for the belongings he left behind. 

— 

"Do you think my bag is still out here?" 

Staring down at your feet, you breathe a light tsk at that, and you kick a pebble with your next step forwards to send it skittering in front of you. "Possibly. Demons don't tend to mess with human junk. What did you have in there?" 

Aki hums in thought, his brows pinching. He attempts to count by using his fingers. "I had a notebook, a pen, some ink, some gold… some clothes, I think. Nothing too important." 

"If they got into your bag, maybe they'd take the coins," You answer methodically, "But otherwise, everything should be right where you left it. Keep an eye out, and let me know if anything starts looking familiar." 

The bright rays of the sun warm your bare skin, shining onto your arms and shimmering over the rippling, shallow water. You've been following the river's edge for a while now, walking along the path it creates while occasionally veering closer to the forest to look around. Aki couldn't recall exactly where he was attacked; not that you can blame him. That night was dark, stormy, and either way, every tree and bush and field of grass looks exactly the same. However, he did remember hearing the babble of the river nearby. Following it gives you the best chance of finding his things, you suppose. 

Today, the sky is bright blue and cloudless. Gravel crunches under your boots. The river laps at the rocks, and morning songbirds chirp from the distant trees. With your hands shoved in your pants pockets, and your gaze focused on your feet, you make sure to take careful steps over fallen logs and twisted roots. Aki keeps pace beside you, following you more than he's following the river. 

His hair is half-tied up like the day you met him, showing off his delicate earrings and pointed ears. He looks much different in the sunlight. More handsome, surely, spotted rays shining through the forest's canopy to paint amber patterns across his skin. The sleeves of his tunic have been rolled up to expose his scarred forearms. 

He keeps a healthy level of distance from you, not straying too far or walking too close. He's glancing between the path ahead, the forest, and sometimes to you. You're glad. If he was any closer, you doubt you'd be able to keep your thoughts clear. 

Demons — or devils, as he calls them — are few in number during the early morning hours, so you made sure to leave with Aki just after dawn. By now, you likely have two or three hours at most, before the devils start appearing from their dens. 

You're already halfway along the river's trail. You should be able to finish searching, and you'll have plenty of time to head back to the cottage. You'll plan to collect some herbs and mushrooms on the way back. That way, locating Aki's belongings or not, this trip won't end up a total bust. 

You'll find his things though, hopefully. This side of the forest was where you placed your distraction rune. 

Aki has to walk a bit slower than you. Clearly, he's trying not to let the pain still left in his side show; he doesn't wince or falter much from the pace you've set. Although you don't mind, you aren't used to having to wait for someone else to catch up. You fall into a rhythm of skipping ahead, hopping over stones, and then stopping once you get a short way in front of him. Aki gives you an entertained look when you wait, turning back to glance at him. You decide to deliberately slow down to keep yourself at his side, and you try to ignore the heat you feel budding at the back of your neck. 

The sun's warmth is calming. It shines sparsely through the trees, evoking a heavy feeling in your veins when it hits your skin. If it wasn't for Aki walking so close beside you, you'd probably have fallen asleep standing up. You roll your shoulders backward, and stretch your arms to the sky. Then, you yawn, trying to blink away the fuzziness in your vision. To no avail, unfortunately. 

"Tired?" Aki pipes up. You hadn't noticed he was looking at you until his voice startled you awake. 

You rub your eyes, shrugging. "Kind of. But I'll be fine." 

If you instead were honest with him, with yourself, you are very tired. Your head feels weighed down by thick stones, as large and cumbersome as the ones in the river bed. Your limbs feel weaker and more sluggish than usual, as though they're actively working against you. Since Aki started staying in your cottage, you haven't slept well at all. Last night, you kept tossing and turning, thinking just to think some more. Your mind won't keep steady. 

You hate not knowing exactly what you're supposed to do. You hate that you can't figure him out, no matter how much you think or try to pry information from him. Your messy plan could go awry a thousand different ways because of a thousand different things and — 

Aki is still staring at you. Blinking, you turn away, hoping he didn't notice you zoning out. 

"You sure?" Aki asks, a brow raised. Okay, he totally noticed. "That's probably the fourth or fifth time you've yawned in the past five minutes. We can take a break, if you'd like. I wouldn't mind pushing our search back to tomorrow." 

"I'm okay, really," You scoff. You kick another pebble, and watch as it flies into the river, pushed by the current for a bit before it slowly sinks to the bottom. "Let's just hurry. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we'll be safe from demons." 

For a couple of moments, you both fall into silence. The only sound to echo between you is your boots crunching the gravel. But still, Aki's gaze is on you: astute and sparkling. Even though you're staring at your shoes, you can clearly see him glancing at you from the corner of your eye, his mouth pressed into a focused line. He's pondering. Was it something you said? 

You didn't mess up, did you? 

Aki breathes a small hmm, and he calmly concludes, "You aren't familiar with devils, are you?" 

Suddenly, you're stopping in your tracks. Aki freezes beside you. His expression is unreadable as you turn to face him, giving him a particularly annoyed look. 

"What makes you say that?" You retort, hardly trying to hide the bit of harshness laced through your tone. You've been fighting the stupid creatures for almost your entire life, of course you're knowledgeable about them. Knowledgeable enough, at least. 

"Well, you call them demons," Aki replies, sounding indifferent. "Pretty sure my great grandparents were the last ones to call them that." 

"It's the same thing." You turn back to following the river, and continue walking while you speak. "I've survived out here for as long as I have, with demons lurking in every inch of this forest. And you think I know nothing of them?" 

Demons. You couldn't recall what your parents might've called them, or what those in the kingdom knew them as. During your earliest days in the forest, you remember summoning a book on, to quote the book's title: Formidable Demons and Magical Creatures. The book must have been centuries old. At the time, you didn't have enough experience to decipher it. You flipped through the pages and memorized the illustrations of "known demons", before tucking the tome away on your shelf, to be read at a later date. 

Damn. You have plenty of first-hand experience, but if most of your knowledge is sourced from some dusty old book you never actually wound up finishing, maybe he's right. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way," He apologizes, speeding up a bit so he can continue walking beside you. "I'm not knocking how resourceful you are, it's impressive. Perhaps I should have worded it differently. You're familiar with devils, yes. But I think your perspective of them might be much different from mine." 

Your eyes narrow. Thinking, you cross your arms in front of you, and your gaze drifts back to the path ahead. 

"Okay, so," You start, your words a bit less assured this time, "I know demons- devils- come in multiple forms. They feed off of fear, they're always carnivores, and they can only be slain, they'll never die of old age. There. Promise you'll cut me some slack if I missed anything." 

"Don't worry," Aki hums, "That was perfect. Devils grow stronger in the presence of fear. I'm sure you already know as much. They become drawn to the fear people have for them, like a moth to firelight." 

When you find yourself absently glancing back towards Aki, your eyes wind up meeting his own. Holding his gaze feels soft, as though you're falling into clouds. You examine the distinct, pointed shape of his ears. His earrings shimmer once they catch the sunlight, and sway slightly with each of his steps. 

"Correct me if this isn't right, but I've heard demons love elves." Your brows form the slightest pinch. "Supposedly, their blood is ripe with magic." 

Aki laughs. "Those stories about elves are just tales. My blood is no more delicious than yours. And either way, even if it was true, I'd wager devils haven't done a very good job at making me their prey." 

"Makes sense. I guess those creatures don't care whose blood they're spilling, as long as they can get their fix of it." 

"What else do you think of them?" Aki asks, his head tilted slightly in your direction. "Of devils, I mean." 

You fall silent. Cautiously, carefully, you attempt to figure out what sort of answer Aki is wanting to hear. 

The oldest tales, just as old as the ones you once read about elves and kings and long-gone magical creatures, say devils were born jealous of humanity. They envied the magic humans were capable of using — and so, they sought to extinguish it. Your current understanding would tell you devils don't care for magic, or humanity, or jealousy. All they desire is destruction, for common folk and mages alike. 

The relationship between humanity and devils is reciprocal. Humans and elves are the only ones capable of destroying devils, but devils need people in order to grow stronger. Devils need their fear, their torment. Weaker devils will go after whatever they're capable of hunting, but intelligent devils know how to bend people to their advantage. They excel at manipulation. And as senseless as it might seem, devils do possess plenty of things humanity does not. 

You fiddle with the straps of your backpack, running your thumbs over the smooth leather and gold buckles. In response, you can only think to offer the most simple, obvious of statements. 

"I think anyone who chooses to make a deal with a devil is a fool." 

Aki goes quiet. Then, he grins, and breathes something of a half-laugh, half-sigh. The gentle sound does well to put you at ease. 

"Yeah," He replies, "Foolish, greedy, or desperate. Or perhaps all three. Careful-" 

Nearly tripping, you stop when he does. You almost walked right into a large log, where the river bends and breaks upon the mossy wood blocking its way. Aki briefly extends his hand out for you to take, but you hop over without his help, taking a large step over the log before returning your hands to your pockets. 

He's making that same endearing, pondering face again. 

"You've probably already heard this story, but," He begins, speaking while you both walk, "They say devils came into existence the day the elves cast their first spell. Mankind was impure. The Gods made devils our punishment for casting magic ripe with impurities. When elves first discovered healing spells, devils began to appear with the ability to heal themselves of any attack inflicted upon them. Humanity discovered fire magic. Then came devils with fire-drenched skin. Their bodies melted metal, and they scorched the ground they touched, leaving an ashen trail in their wake." 

You like the way Aki tells stories. He recounts them in such a deliberate way, as though he's reading directly from one of your fairytale books. This story is grim, and certainly one you've heard before. Yet, you can't stop the smile that begins to tug at your cheeks. 

"Mhmm. And then, the devils slaughtered everyone and left the world in ruin," You tease, glancing towards him playfully, your hands at your hips. "Do you enjoy scaring children with that old story?" 

"Occasionally. My version of it usually ends with humanity defeating the devils, though. You know, happy endings and such." 

"Right. A happy ending sounds nice. Don't want to scare them too much." 

Aki hums in agreement. "We could have one- a happy ending. That story isn't over yet." 

His story, or yours? 

You swallow, thickly and heavily. The trees above you whisper in the slight wind, and the river babbles, flowing steadily downstream. You try to keep your focus on the path ahead of you, instead of Aki walking beside you. 

"It's just a story," You assert. "Maybe magic was the source of demons a thousand odd years ago, but it hardly matters now." 

Aki's mouth forms the faintest pout, and he glances down at his shoes. "I'm sure it isn't much of a surprise, but I've never actually seen magic." 

"You probably never will," You answer, your voice turning somber, resolute. "People believe magic and mages to be dangerous. As long as they continue to think anyone capable of casting magic is a devil themselves, you won't even hear an utterance of the word." 

"Do you agree with them?" Aki asks flippantly, a brow raised. 

"Huh? What do you mean?" 

"Do you think mages are dangerous?" 

Out of everything he could have said, everything he could have possibly mentioned, why would Aki ask you such a question? 

Right then, you're sure your heart must have defied gravity and reason to drop directly into your throat. You nearly choke. Your spine prickles, unease running rampant through your system. You aren't sure how you manage to come up with any words in the first place, but somehow, you decide to talk without thinking. 

Your shoulders feel tense. "Obviously. Magic could be used to level a city, to mind control a king, to win any war. Or to start one, for that matter." 

Aki hums. For once, his smooth, persistently calm voice grows close to getting on your nerves. "It's difficult. Magic has already done so much harm, but it could do just as much good. When I think of mages, I just see… people. People who want to survive. They aren't monsters or devils." 

You stop in front of him, and he stops with you. Aki's head tilts slightly. As though he knows you want to speak, he's just waiting for it. 

"You know," You're starting, brows pinched, arms crossed, "Those sorts of statements could get you strung up for heresy." 

"Good thing we're far from the city then, right?" 

Nearly, in a hazy mix of confusion and exhaustion and fear and admiration, you almost form a rebuttal. Your arms drop to your sides, and your hands become clenched into fists. Your lips part slightly, to say something your mind hasn't quite decided on yet, just to close at the tightening of your jaw. He's messing with you. He must be. 

Mages aren't people — You aren't like him, you are fundamentally different. Surely, he knows what mages truly are as well as you do. You were born with a spark in your veins and a fire at your fingertips. Humanity, and perhaps the Gods themselves are afraid of you. No-one can stomach you but yourself. Aki is but a man; a foolish, stupid mortal. And you were promised a cage. 

Aki's gaze on yours appears to soften, his arms crossed loosely, his gaze flickering from the conflict on your face to your stiffened posture. Nervously rubbing your arm with your palm, you can't meet his eyes anymore; you can only look away. Your vision chooses to focus elsewhere, on anything but him. Fortunately, just beyond where Aki is standing in front of you, if you squint, you can spot something at the edge of the trees. A leather bag, partially torn open, resting in a patch of grass and tiny flowers. 

"Hey, is that your stuff?" 

Aki's eyes widen, before he turns to look in the direction you've started pointing towards. 

"Well, shit." 

— 

The scene surrounding where Aki's bag lay discarded is true to what he previously described to you. 

As you approach, and as Aki kneels down to gather his things, you glance around the area. You find his sword amongst the grass a foot or so away, steel separated from hilt, the blade tainted with dull blood-stains. The steel is chipped — from gradual wear or from a devil's fangs, you aren't quite sure. His bag is crumpled. A medium-sized hole has been torn into the side, certainly made from a devil's sharp teeth. For now, you slide your pack from your shoulders, and allow him to put his belongings inside. 

There's no gold in his backpack, nor could he find any in the grass surrounding it, of course. There is, however, some rations, a spare tunic, a quill pen, and a notebook — still in his bag, so thankfully, the pages were kept dry from the rain. 

Aki fussed over losing a jar of ink, but you assured him it wouldn't be a problem. It'd be best to head into the woods anyways, to find herbs for him and food for the both of you. Black Dragon flowers are common in this area, and when crushed up, they can be used to make ink. If either of you could find a few blossoms, you'd be glad to make some for him. 

"In return," You said, as Aki rose to his feet, matching your gaze with a curious one, "See if you can find me some wood. A few branches might've fallen during the storm. I need something thick and sturdy. About this," You gesture with your hands — "Big." 

"Ah." He dusts the dirt from his knees with his palms, and hands your pack back to you when you reach out for it. "For firewood?" 

"No, silly. We have plenty. It's for carving." 

Aki smiles, perhaps considering, or perhaps recalling the little sculptures made from wood that are strewn throughout the shelves in your cottage. "Right. Deal." 

With a plan now in mind, you crammed what remained of Aki's bag into your own pack — to use for scrap material — and you ventured through the trees, and into the forest. 

It's much easier to keep your mind from wandering with a task to occupy you. Gathering some mushrooms for eating and finding the flowers you mentioned doesn't take too long. Together, you and Aki head a short ways into the forest, staying careful to keep far from where the devils often make their dens. This area is relatively safe regardless, but it's still good to be on your guard. You let yourself forget about your previous conversations, while you quietly show Aki the difference between the herbs he needs and the fauna he shouldn't touch. 

You don't talk much, only a few words at most, until you're busy gathering the last of what you need. 

Aki comes over, a smooth piece of wood held in his hands. Rested on your knees, you grab the stems of a handful of herbs, and swiftly tug to pull their roots from the ground. You glance up at him as he leans down to hand the wood to you. The canopy of trees is much thicker here. Shadows dance across his face, his arms, his palms and his clothes — still dusted with dirt from searching through undergrowth with you. 

Hardly befitting of royalty, isn't it? Isn't he? 

You smile to yourself, and chase away the thought. 

"Will this do?" Aki asks, turning the piece of wood over, while he runs his fingertips along its rough surface. "It's the best I've found so far." 

"Mhmm, that's perfect. Thank you." You take it from him, and reach for your pack beside you, flipping it open to stuff the wood inside. There's little space left, but eventually, you're able to fit it carefully beside a few small pouches of mushrooms and herbs. 

Aki stands. He hesitates, before he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck with his palm. "This… might be a stupid question. But it's still okay that I'm staying with you, right?" 

"Of course it is- It's fine." You shrug, your focus kept on the foliage. With more carefulness, you gather a few of the thickest leaves. They'll be good for sealing his wound, for guiding it to fully heal. "Why? You want to leave that badly, huh?" 

Aki tucks his hands into his pants pockets. "I don't want to intrude. That's all." 

"I already told you, you're staying until you get better. No protests." Your tone seems to carry a familiar lilt of annoyance, but to his surprise, when you stuff a bundle of herbs into your pack and glance up at him once you're finished, your gaze is warm. You're donning the slightest, softest smile. 

"And just so you know," You mutter, glancing between him and your backpack as you snap it's buckle shut, "Your company isn't unpleasant." 

"Huh." Aki breathes a light-hearted huff. "Is that a compliment?" 

"Partially." 

Glancing away, looking towards the forest, he can't help but mimic your smile — shyly, almost. It's stupidly endearing. You hate how endearing he is. 

"Your company isn't unpleasant either. I mean-" He stammers, "It's nice. I enjoy talking with you. I was thinking, if you'd like, when we get back, I could-" 

Still staring into the trees just beyond you, Aki stops. An abrupt, nerve-wracking pause follows, long enough and silent enough to have your gaze flickering over him. His jaw is set. His eyes are wide, his face is slightly panicked. You swallow, freezing up. Slowly, without moving a muscle, you follow where Aki is looking — just in time to see the bushes a fair distance in front of you rustle. 

The trees sway, whispering dark promises as the wind picks up, a sharp breeze gliding over your bare skin. It's probably nothing. No, it's surely nothing. The chance of a demon- a devil- traveling all the way out to this side of the forest without outside influence is slim. You know this, and yet — 

You're fine. You have to convince yourself, you need to remember that no matter what, you're going to be perfectly fine. If it is a devil, the most important thing is to keep your cool. Level your head and breathe deeply, just as you've learned and practiced, like the books you read have instructed. In, and then out. You need to breathe. 

It's fine. It might not detect you if you're able to stay calm. Perhaps you're panicking for no reason. You're exhausted, you're seeing things. Your weary mind is playing cruel tricks on you. The longer your stare lingers on those thick, rustling bushes and shadow-filled trees, the more your breath sharpens, the stronger your heart begins to thump — Fuck, why can't you just stay calm? 

Stay calm, stay calm. This is stupid, you're acting stupid. There's nothing, there has to be nothing; no danger, no devil waiting to attack and tear the both of you in two. You won't need to defend yourself, you won't have to blow your cover. What if he already knows? With the way he brought up mages earlier, maybe he's going to run and leave you to be ambushed, maybe he planned this, maybe — 

A gentle palm is placed on your shoulder, and you practically jump out of your own skin. 

You whip around to look at the man you nearly forgot was even there; Aki eyes you with concern, never tearing his gaze from you as you scramble to unsteady feet. Standing close beside him, closer than you should be, you're focused on the forest again. Stress is present in your features, while an obvious shake lingers in your limbs. 

"Aki-" You mumble, speaking on the edge of an anxiety-ridden whisper, "We need- Shouldn't we-" 

"We're fine," Aki answers calmly, quietly. He reaches for your hand, and he grabs it softly. His palm brushes your knuckles. His fingers caress your skin as he squeezes faintly, and your heart pounds so hard it displaces your ribs. "Look." 

He points, and you allow your hazy vision to come back into focus. Through the trees, approaching cautiously while hopping among the shadows, you spot the thin legs, patterned coat, and small horns of a baby Great Elk. 

Aki hums, "I've never seen a baby one before." He murmurs low enough for only you to hear, in pleasant disbelief. "They never get this close. Sorry, are you-" 

Suddenly, as he is turning towards you, you're pushing away, and yanking your hand away from his. 

"I'm fine," You answer, taking a few steps back. At the sound of your voice, no longer hushed, the baby elk runs, scampering back into the trees. Aki watches uselessly as you retrieve your backpack and sling it over your shoulders. "Let's just go."

Your voice is unsteady. Your gaze is focused on your shoes. You clutch the front of your cape, the space closest to your heart, and you press one hand to the back of the other. Idly, your palm runs over the shape of your own knuckles, as your teeth nervously find your bottom lip. 

You understand what it feels like to let fire dance in your palms, to have spell-spawned sparks flickering underneath your skin. This is far worse. The hand Aki touched feels as though it's burning. 

"I'm sorry," He murmurs, "For a second, I really thought it was-" 

"I said, let's go." 

You're already turning, walking in a direction he'd never recall if you left him to be lost out here, and so Aki has no choice but to follow. 

He sighs defeatedly. "Okay. That's alright. We can go." 

As you and Aki walk back to your cottage, you make your way there with the most distance that's ever been between you. 

— 

"Hold still." 

"Shit- Sorry. I'm trying." 

Aki flinches as you carefully press a cool, damp cloth to his side. Squinting, using the dim light from the fireplace and the flickering candles to illuminate your task, you focus on cleaning what remains of his wound. 

These past few days, although still a bit sore, it hasn't been bleeding much. What was once a large, gnarled gash has healed into a faint, red scrape. It probably won't leave much of a scar after all. He has your medicine to thank for his quick recovery. You weren't sure how the wound might fare after he spent the day traveling through the forest with you, but aside from a hint of discomfort, he seems relatively healthy. Still energized, even. After setting the rag aside, you grab a handful of fresh bandages, which you made from the scraps of his old, stained tunic. 

"It's healed well," You comment plainly. You and Aki are sitting on the wooden floor, cross-legged, close to the fireplace. Close in proximity. The persistent heat of the fire flutters across your arms and your back, chasing away the cool night air. 

Reaching into a wooden bowl, you use two fingers to smear a thick herbal mixture onto the inside of the bandages. Then, you swiftly begin to wrap them around his bare torso, taking note of the way his muscles flex. 

You breathe a low, inquisitive hum. "Still seems tender, though." 

"It is. A bit." Aki supports his weight with his palms, leaning back to give you more room. Firelight curves over his chest, his shoulders, his collarbones. "But I'm doing alright, thanks to you. I'm sure I'll be fully healed soon." 

And soon, he'll be leaving. 

You try not to think about it as you focus on the precise movements of your hands. There's far too many stressful things you still need to mull over, and now isn't the time. 

Wrapping his bandages is a careful, but quick process; at this point, you're used to it. Aki keeps as motionless as he can manage while you tie the bandages off to keep them in place. You collect the wooden bowl in one hand, before promptly rising to your feet. He watches you snatch his spare tunic from where it hangs over the edge of his cot. He catches it once you toss it at him. 

"I'm going to make dinner," You remark, "Stew probably, same as last time." Already, you're turning on your heels, heading into the kitchen. You set the wooden bowl aside, and Aki scrambles to pull his shirt over his head. 

"Wait-"

He's rushing to come stand beside you, still straightening his tunic and fitting his arms through the sleeves, while you're plopping your backpack onto the counter. Aki reaches back, fixing his hair and pulling it from beneath his neckline. Busy focusing on opening your backpack, you give him a raised brow, a perplexed side-glance. 

"Let's make it together," Aki says — and with how ridiculous his preposition sounds, with how unheard of it is to you, you can't help but laugh. 

"That isn't necessary." You shrug, and turn back to your bag. You root around inside for a moment, before you find a small leather pouch, containing several bonnet-shaped mushrooms. 

"I know," Aki replies; he's already reaching into your cupboards, wasting no time finding a couple of bowls and a cutting board. His mind has been made, apparently. "I want to make it with you, though. Can you teach me?" 

Your eyes narrow. Your hands are shuddery as you pull the pouch open, briefly counting the mushrooms inside. Inevitably, you breathe a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping from the weight of it. Aki sets the cutting board down, his gaze flickering over you, and you dump the mushrooms out onto the counter in front of him. 

"Chop these up into small pieces. Knives are in the drawer to your right." 

He doesn't need to be told twice. 

Silence falls upon the kitchen as you and Aki prepare dinner together, side by side. His knife — your knife — echoes rhythmically against the wooden cutting board as he carefully chops mushroom after mushroom. You grind herbs to use for seasoning with a mortar and pestle. The fireplace crackles, and your foot taps against the floor just slightly. Too slight for him to hear, and not enough to calm your nerves. 

Any slight lull makes you think too much. About devils, about the kingdom. About him, and what you're going to do once he's gone. At the very least, this silence is much more comfortable, compared to the prickling stillness that befell the both of you on the way back to your cottage. You're grateful you haven't yet ruined things. 

Since then, you've barely managed to regain the faintest sliver of your composure. Your heart isn't pounding anymore, thankfully, despite how close the two of you need to stand to work together in the kitchen. You designed your space for one, not for two. The stove is in the middle of the counter, and in order to reach to dump ingredients into a pot, you need to lean so close to him your arms nearly touch. 

Instead, your heart aches, twisting and pulling at your chest, sending blood rushing to your fragile hands and making them shake each time you remember the way Aki touched you. He grabbed your right hand. It still feels warm, in a way. Haunted by a touch softer than a flower's thin petals. Your mind swims, your grip on the pestle faltering slightly. 

Gods, you're ridiculous. A more composed version of yourself would surely be scolding you right now. 

First, you let a man you hardly know into your cottage, a man who happened to be royalty, of all things. Then, you panic over nothing, getting all freaked out over a harmless baby elk. Now, you're allowing yourself to nearly lose your damned mind over such a small, inconsequential, useless touch. Over Aki's touch. 

Aki, who's life exists in a universe far removed from your own. Who is going to leave, who has a few days left before he will have to forget about you. You really, seriously need to get a grip. 

"I'm sorry," You mutter, breaking the silence, your voice barely loud enough to be heard. Aki stops though, glancing in your direction, making it clear that he did notice. "Normally I wouldn't get scared like that. You know, when we were in the forest. I just- I'm stressed, that's all. Or tense, I guess. And exhausted." 

"I knew you were still thinking about what happened earlier," Aki concludes, reading you correctly. He scoops a handful of chopped mushrooms into his palms, and places them into the already-boiling pot on the stove. "There's no need to apologize. I must have startled you. I was… scared too, for a moment." 

Aki's knife swiftly hits the cutting board as he cuts the rest of the mushrooms, and you prop your head on your palm, your fingers drumming against the counter. 

He's only partially paying attention to the task at hand. His eyes continuously and not-so-subtly keep drifting away from the cutting board, and back to you. You really wish he wouldn't. Your heart is already beginning to skip again; you don't need it running and tripping over itself while you're trying to thinly cut up some parsley. 

"You're going to chop your finger off." 

Aki stops at your words. Your gaze is focused on your bundle of parsley and scissors, but he still looks towards you anyways, breathing a slight, playful laugh. He elegantly twirls his knife in a circle before returning it to the cutting board — only this time, he makes sure to watch what he's doing. 

"I cooked for my family a few times when I was a kid," He starts, chopping a mushroom carefully and slowly. "That was ages ago, though. I think I forgot everything I once learned." 

You still remember your mother's cooking lessons like she taught them to you yesterday. Keep your knives sharp. Watch the stove, try not to use too much firewood. You can add, but you can never subtract. Were those moments the last time you shared the kitchen with someone else? 

It's a bit difficult to get used to. You keep expecting to have more work, you still feel surprised when you turn to see someone standing next to you. But it feels calming. A crisp, fluttering feeling you can't quite put your finger on — not that you want to, you'd rather not face it. You've decided it's nice to make dinner with him, simply sharing your space, even though you aren't doing anything too special. For the first time in what might be forever, you aren't alone. 

Perhaps you should be savoring this. 

"I did too," You reply, pausing the movement of your scissors for a moment. "But when I was a kid, I hated cooking. I cut my hand once, the first time I tried to peel potatoes. My mom bandaged me up. From there on out, I would cry every time she asked me to cook with her." 

Aki breathes a slight hmm, and he reasons, "You were scared of getting hurt again." 

"I suppose so." 

"Did you ever end up cooking with her?" 

"No. I remember some of what she tried to teach me, but… I mostly taught myself," You answer, briefly hesitating. "This is the first time I've tried to cook with someone else since then, I think. I like it. I like your company." 

Too honest, perhaps. Your mother might have told you to keep on your toes in this situation, to avoid giving away too much information. But your heart is already beating fast, and the words have already left you before you've thought about them. 

Aki glances at you, your gaze staying focused on your hands, on your work. You seem lost in thought. He finds it difficult to read the blank expression on your face. 

"I understand. I think I get how you feel, honestly." His voice is smooth, calm. Drifting through you, until it sparks within your chest like a brand new star. "My mother never got the chance to teach me much. She was busy working, or busy tending to my younger brother." 

"Your mom," You answer quietly, "Do you miss her?" 

"Yeah. And you?" 

Your jaw tenses, your teeth uncomfortably grinding together. You place the parsley into the pot, and dust your palms over the counter. "Of course. You always miss the family you've lost." 

He's long since finished chopping up the remainder of mushrooms, but Aki's grip tightens on the knife, and he idly taps the tip of the blade against the firm cutting board. He hums a slight mhmm in agreement. 

"My mother always said cooking was one of the most important skills one could learn," Aki continues. "I thought she'd have more time to teach me. She would tell me, 'You need to be prepared if you go off on your own, you won't always like what other people make for you.' Something like that. I'm not sure I believed her, at first." 

"Uh-huh," You raise a brow. "And then you were forced to eat river snails." 

Oh. Realizing your change in tone only after the fact, you look at him immediately, your nerves prickling, your skin heating up with embarrassment. Truthfully, you haven't had much practice with conversations; Aki is the first. You've said more to him in the past few days than you think you ever have. 

Perhaps you should've thought more before you spoke. It's one thing to say something you might regret, it's another to raise tensions with him. He was serious, and you just made some stupid joke that sounded flat enough to be a rude comment — 

But Aki smirks, he laughs wholeheartedly; the sound rings through you, tender and burning. You feel a reassuring wave travel all the way down your spine. 

"Okay, I think I would've had to try those regardless," He hums, exhaling another amused huff of breath. He drops the rest of the mushrooms into the stove pot, and with nothing else to do but wait for the stew to be ready, he swiftly reaches for a rag, and begins wiping down the cutting board. 

"They were supposed to make you heal faster, or not get sick- or something, I'm not sure," He continues, "They never actually did anything. Trust me, if I was cooking for myself, I wouldn't have opted to include those." 

"At least you tried them," You reply, shrugging. "Now you've got a good story to tell. Besides, there's plenty of things that might look awful even though they taste pretty good." 

"Truffles," Aki says through a groan, "Gods, how I refused to eat those. It drove my parents up a wall." 

"What's that?" 

Propping your head up with your arm once more, you glance at him, diligently looking at him up and down, giving him all of your attention. Aki smiles, and he sets down what he's holding to turn towards you fully. Matching your gaze, he rests his elbow on the edge of the counter. 

"They're these shitty little black mushrooms," He says straightforwardly, and you can't help but chuckle. "Apparently, they're hard to find, so… my parents would be furious with me for wasting them. My dad, he was the one who taught us to be frugal. He made me try this chocolate. Super fancy, expensive chocolate. It was similar to the mushrooms, and my dad decided to tell me they were the same. He said, 'You know those are truffles, the mushrooms you hate, right?'"

Aki lets go of a small, breathy laugh, and he glances away as he recalls the rest of his story. "It wasn't. They're only called the same thing, but they're completely different- the chocolate, and the mushrooms. He got me to try some the next time we had them, though." 

"Hm," You reply, "Did you like them?"

"Nope. I didn't finish my first bite, I spat it out." 

Smirking, your gaze meets his own expectantly. "Your dad was probably mad, then." 

"Definitely. But I was expecting chocolate. Those mushrooms are good, but you're supposed to savor them. They are the complete opposite of sweet." 

"What's chocolate?" Your eyes squint as you think, trying to remember if the name is something you've heard before. In a book, maybe. It certainly sounds familiar. "Is that a mushroom too?" 

Aki stares at you, surprised. "You've never had chocolate?" 

"Nope." 

"It's- damn." His hand comes to hold his chin, his brows pinch with faint frustration. "It's sort of difficult to describe. It's sweet. It melts in your mouth, if that makes sense. There's a lot of vendors who sell chocolate in the kingdom. When we get there, I'll buy you some." 

Suddenly, as he seems to catch himself, Aki clears his throat. He stutters and glances away, "Er- if you wanted to go with me, that is. There's no need to make any decisions right now. It was just a suggestion." 

The room grows silent. Aki's gaze flickers to check on the stove, before traveling back to you. To your eyes, to your mouth. When your gazes meet again, you find it impossible to look away, despite how much your quivering heart desperately begs you to. 

Finally, you look down at your hands, and mumble hesitantly, "You'll be leaving soon." You press your thumbs together, nervously fiddling. "Right?" 

"That depends," Aki answers, "When do you think I'll be healed enough?" 

"Soon. Probably within the next few days, at the earliest. Your wound looks fine. You should keep resting, once you're feeling energized and no longer sore, then…" 

You trail off, unable to finish your sentence. Aki doesn't fail to notice how you're no longer looking at him, your voice becoming uncertain and much quieter. 

Aki takes a deep, long breath, and he speaks calmly, gently. "Whenever you tell me you're ready, I'll leave. There's no pressure to come with me, and I won't force you to make a decision. I don't have any problems with leaving alone. I'll be alright, you won't have to worry about me. Please, don't forget that." 

It should be fine, to let him leave alone. You'll follow your original plan. The next time he's asleep, you'll prepare the potion to alter his memory; you could have it done by tonight, easily. If he follows your directions, he shouldn't have a problem with making his way out of the forest safely. As foolish as he is, Aki is resourceful. He wouldn't let himself get caught out again. This is what should happen, to keep the both of you safe, and apart. 

So why do you feel so hurt? 

For longer than necessary, you're silent. In the corner of your vision, you catch the way Aki peers at you worriedly. 

"Are you alright?" He asks, his words taking you a bit off guard. 

Reflexively, you nod — but oh, how he is making this so much harder. You're fine, you were fine, until you heard his soft voice check up on you. Now, you feel like a dam on the edge of bursting. He noticed, of course he would notice. You're standing close enough for him to see your little tremors, for him to hear when your breath starts to hitch. You had made up your mind about your future long before you met him, but Aki had to go and change it all. 

Perhaps you hadn't realized how much it truly hurt until he'd spoken. Those are words you haven't heard before, you've never felt a sensation so suffocating. Your throat is dry, your heart is encased in thorns — but you're alright. You have to be. You have to tell him you're fine. 

"I'm alright," You answer quickly with a swallow, leaving it at that. 

"You sure? Your hands-" Aki murmurs, his gaze flickering down to them, and then back up. "You were doing that earlier." 

Ah. You were, and you are. Both of your hands have moved to timidly clutch the front of your cape, your thumb running over the grooves on the shiny front button. 

Sighing, you forcibly let your arms fall. You still can't look at him, so instead, you keep your focus on the dirty ends of your shoes. "I promise, I'm fine." 

You're sure you don't sound very convincing. 

The pot on the stove bubbles, the stove top's low, orange flame flickering faintly. Aki stays silent, considering his next words carefully. 

"You still don't trust me," He decides, his voice quiet and assured. It's a statement more than anything; he knows you do not trust him. He knows it's a fact he cannot change. "But if there's anything- something I did, or something you want to tell me, you can. I'll listen." 

As if you could ever tell him. 

It'd be foolish to let him see this different side to you, regardless of how much you already trust him — more than he realizes, clearly. More than logic and everything you've learned should dictate. Unfortunately, you can no longer keep your thoughts quiet. You've got a battle raging within you, and those aching waves of stress are pulling, pushing, and growing closer and closer to drowning you underneath. 

Aki can't stay. You shouldn't even entertain the thought; what the hell are you thinking? Aki is a stranger, he's dangerous. If he truly is royalty, you could be punished for ever thinking you were allowed to look at him, let alone speak to him. 

The kingdom isn't as far as you'd prefer it to be. His wound is healing. You are helping him get back on his feet. You're guiding him closer to leaving, little by little. 

Deep in your foolish, pounding heart, you want to believe Aki would trust you as much as you want to trust him, regardless of your best-kept secret. Yet, if anyone questioned him upon his return, if he was at all seen as suspicious, they could find out about you. His intentions wouldn't matter then. Protecting you or even himself wouldn't be an option. There's only so much he can do to bend the rules around witches. Royalty or otherwise. 

You hate this. You hate that Aki could discover the truth at any moment. He could look at you differently, with less kindness and more revulsion, once he realizes he's supposed to hate you. He is fucking supposed to, to hell with thinking mages are people, those words can't be trusted, he isn't meant to be trusted. With how distracted you've been, he could kill you, if he truly wanted to. But would he? 

The pit of your stomach swirls with a shadowy sense of dread and anxiety. You hate how you've become closer to him, you hate yourself for letting your guard down, even though you swore you wouldn't. Above all else, you hate how these sharp, never-ending feelings are becoming far too much. 

It hurts. There's a hundred thoughts gnawing at your mind, a thousand rapid beats of your heart to keep track of, and a million pins and needles under your skin, running up along your spine with a painful, oppressive intensity. 

You're worried. You're scared, scared of what will happen, scared of him, and everything. Scared of losing him, as awful as it sounds. Your cottage would become so lonely. You would fall into suffocating silence once more. Aki is different from the men you met before, from the people you've learned to fear. He is someone worth keeping. 

Each sensation — the stress, the longing — pushes at either side of you like two stone walls closing in. Closing and crushing and swallowing you; your hands are trembling, and Gods, you're exhausted. When was the last time you slept properly? Was your mind ever working as it should be to begin with? 

And why can you never seem to stop thinking about what it felt like to have your hand in his? 

In the end, it doesn't matter. 

None of it matters, your attempts to hang onto yourself and your wavering composure are rendered useless. He blends out of your focus as the world grows blurry around you. You grip the front of your cape tighter, your shoulders tensing before they tremor. Your breath is short, your throat feels tight, and your thoughts are fatigued like a string pulled taut. Fragile tears are beginning to fall down your cheeks, and you can do nothing to stop them. 

Aki freezes up completely, eyes wide, gaze locked on you. 

"Sorry," You're babbling, shaking your head, willing the tears to stop — although you know they most certainly won't. Your chest aches, your throat hurts. Small droplets fall from your face to hit your fingers and knuckles. You're so stupid, so weak. "I just- I don't want to-" 

Without an ounce of hesitation, Aki shifts closer. He's slow when he reaches out to you, giving you plenty of time to move away if you'd prefer to. You don't. Glancing down at you, his warm palm finds your cheek, his touch slight and delicate, as though he's still expecting you to flinch away. Carefully, his thumb swipes underneath your eye to catch a tear before it falls. His touch caresses you softly, far too softly. And finally, you break. 

He could hurt you, he could destroy you if he knew what you truly were. Instead, the fear all melts away, because he chooses to be gentle. 

Your shaking hands hold onto your cape as tight as you can manage, while your tears turn into hard sobs that shake your entire figure, and make his heart want to splinter and shatter. Aki mumbles something low under his breath, words you barely catch despite how close you both are: an earnest mixture of shh, and it's okay. 

In this moment, you have never been weaker. Not since the day you first left the kingdom behind you, and began to cry, when you believed you were meant to be alone. It's been years of isolation, since then. Is it so wrong for you to know you have needed this? 

For once, leaning into his touch feels right; it doesn't burn, it isn't nerve-wracking. It's everything you've ever needed — it is so much more as you press your hand to the back of his, keeping him in place so he won't pull away. You focus on the warmth of his touch, tenderness surging all around you, your heart pounding to a fierce, unsteady rhythm. 

It could be wrong, it could be reckless, to believe this is the safest you've ever felt. To know that if you were to pull him close like you've been wanting, you might not be able to let go. You want to embrace him, to have someone hold you, after ages and ages of feeling nothing against your skin and at your back but the whispering wind. 

Aki's arms around you would be far too overwhelming — to have him hold you tight while you breathe in the scent of firewood on his clothes, and listen to each beat of his heart, your head pressed to his chest. No, you wouldn't let go, not until you've memorized the sound. The thought alone could bring you to tears, if you weren't already breaking down in front of him, sniffling and holding onto your cape with a grip tight enough to make your fingers ache. 

"I scared you earlier, didn't I?" Aki says, his voice low, as calming as it always is. His breathing is slow, and yours tries to calm down to match. "I'm sorry." 

Maybe he did, but you've already forgiven him. Aki can't know the true reason why you're crying, or any of the multitude of built-up reasons. They'd be impossible to say, far too difficult to talk about. You can't tell him you might miss him if he leaves you behind, even though it's what you planned to let happen in the first place. Even though someone like you has no right to want to follow someone like him. To the kingdom, no less. You'd be shunned. Imprisoned. Or much, much worse. 

Aki is kind and thoughtful, his presence alone makes you want more — your tides pulled in his direction, an ocean of uncertainty reaching up to a bright, brilliant, unreachable moon. His touch is warm light, shining through thick darkness. Your darkness, illuminated wholeheartedly. 

"You're safe," He murmurs. His voice barely registers. "I wouldn't let anything hurt you." 

He couldn't, he has no idea you're a terrible, filthy liar. Aki is a good man. He reminds you of those knights in your stories — unwaveringly good, no matter the danger they're presented with. And you? You are nothing more than a witch. 

Thankfully, Aki doesn't need to know. 

He doesn't have questions, he simply continues to brush his thumb over your cheek, tenderly and rhythmically. His touch is slight, overly gentle in an attempt to keep you comfortable, but it's more than enough to gradually help you relax. You can't recall the last time you cried like this. Nor the last time you let anyone touch you, you never planned to allow this. You can't become overtaken by emotion, holding your focus is much more important. Perhaps you needed a way to finally let go of your budding stress. 

Aki seems to think so. He holds your face in his palm as you cry, never pulling away, grounding you with his presence. Ever-so patient, he stays, while you fully succumb to everything washing over you. Until the waves slowly subside, allowing you to breathe again. Your sobs begin to calm, your tears start to dry up. Your whole body tremors as you breathe a long, shaky sigh. 

Still, he keeps his pretty palm on your cheek. It belongs there, you think. 

"How are you feeling?" Aki says softly, after a few beats of silence. "Mad? Upset?" 

At first, you don't answer. You try, although you know it's futile; your mouth opens, but your voice is weak, your throat is sore. No words come out. You're feeling a thousand things, even if you could voice them, you aren't sure where you'd start. You swallow, and to your disappointment, Aki takes his palm away from your cheek, abruptly reaching for something. 

In a rush, he hurries to turn off the stove, swearing quietly under his breath. You hadn't realized how much time had passed — how long have you been crying? Long enough to make your nose stuffed and your throat sore, and enough to let the stew boil over, evidently. 

Aki leaves it, for now. He reaches over you to grab your backpack, briefly putting your bodies unbelievably close. He roots around inside until he finds your flask, still half-full with fresh water, and he sets it on the counter, allowing you to move at your own pace. You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand first, before you grab it, unscrewing the cap, taking a few sips. 

You want to tell him. You want to feel his soft touch again, you want his words of reassurance, and his trust, and his kindness. How could you fear him, when Aki is tenderness incarnate? As soft as the sky, as earnest as an echo. And as necessary as it is, you're already sick of lying; you don't want to hear his voice, look him in the eyes, and know you are lying to him. 

Though, you can't say a thing. Your voice is weak, your body and mind are exhausted. And so, this time, you resist. 

Aki breaks the silence first. "You're allowed to be mad at me. I wouldn't blame you if you were." 

"I'm not mad," You answer, screwing the cap back on the flask, setting it down on the counter right where it was. You aren't meeting his eyes, but your voice sounds clearer, less strained. "I'm okay. Just tired." 

Your shoulders shrug weakly. Aki's next breath seems to shake, his arms crossing around his chest frustratedly, his gaze traveling down. 

"I shouldn't-" His jaw clenches, before he lets go of an exasperated sigh. "A devil wouldn't have snuck up on us like that. We would've known- they aren't small, and they make much more noise when they're approaching. I shouldn't have worried you. If you think I should… head for the kingdom, I will. I could leave tonight." 

Your throat feels dry again. "It's fine." 

"No," Aki counters, his voice wavering; it never wavers, "This is my fault. To see you hurting so much, when I know that I- maybe I just-" 

"Aki." 

You glance up at him, and your abrupt utterance of his name forces him to meet your gaze. Your eyes are still red, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion, your cheeks damp from tears. Your expression is earnest, hiding a thousand emotions he couldn't begin to make sense of. But he wants to try. 

"Don't go," You murmur, softer this time. Close to breaking once more. "I've already forgiven you. Thank you. For being here." 

For showing you a kindness you aren't used to, for comforting you without asking questions. For finally making you realize that you aren't meant to be alone. You want to say his name a thousand times more. 

Honestly, you aren't sure what Aki takes away from your words. He seems to hesitate, but after a moment of thought, he reaches for the bowls he'd grabbed for the two of you earlier. One for you, and one for him. 

"You should get some sleep after we eat," He suggests, his tone nice and gentle, laced with concern. He places your bowl in front of you, on your side of the counter. 

"Mhmm…" You nod in agreement, and search through a drawer on your left to find a wooden ladle. "My head hurts." 

Completely serious, Aki replies, "Do you want me to stop talking?" 

Genuine and soft, you break into a laugh — a sound he is more than glad to hear — and you smile to yourself, while you pour some stew into your bowl. It warms your palms, steam brushing against your face. When you pass the ladle to him, he's instantly caught on the faint sparkle in your gaze. Hook, line, and sinker. 

"Absolutely not." You hum playfully, an eyebrow crooked. "It would be far too quiet. Besides, I like your voice." 

Aki fills his own bowl, and with the warm, pleased look that encompasses his features, you swear he almost seems flustered. "I hope you aren't implying I talk too much." 

"Nope. If anything, it's not enough." 

You reach into a drawer to grab silverware, and Aki heads over to the dinner table. He's already sat down across from your usual seat, and once you're able to follow, you notice your chair has been pulled out for you. 

Your conversations lull as the two of you eat together, once again enjoying the simple comfort of company. The warm stew soothes your throat. It has your body and your limbs relaxing, calming. You exchange a few words. Aki compliments your cooking, and you politely thank him for his help. You comment how you rarely see baby elk, they're normally so skittish. It was cute. It would be nice to see again, under different circumstances. 

Everything returns to normality. The same way it always was, when words shared between him and yourself become as natural as breathing. Once again, it feels right. 

The next time you speak, it's after you've stood and both rinsed your bowls, just before you're about to head into your bedroom. 

Aki clears his throat. He sits on the edge of his cot, his hands placed uniformly in his lap, the fireplace's low flame flickering over the sharp angles of his face. 

"Do you really want me to stay?" He asks, as he already has. Perhaps he's expecting the answer to change. 

You consider, drumming your fingertips over your bedroom's door handle. Then, at last, you answer. "Is it so wrong if I do?" 

"It isn't. I was thinking, actually, I… I don't think it's a good idea for me to leave," He says, glancing at you. "My wound is- it could reopen. It'd be better not to take any risks, to rest for another week or so. Or maybe two weeks. Or- I don't know. We'll see." His next words are entirely unsure, a shot in the dark, a question and a plea wrapped into one: "What do you think?" 

As one would expect, he'd leave it all up to you. 

Your hand grips the door knob tighter. You take a slow, gradual breath, and hope he doesn't notice your newfound reassurance. 

He isn't leaving. Not yet. Thank the Gods. 

"Of course," You murmur, without turning to look at him. He'd see the small smile on your face if you did. "You can stay." 

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Hard Learned Lesson

Hello everyone!

*cough* so... you all ready for some... angst? ;3

Timeline wise this is in the spring of the first year the guys got the farm! So their first spring in FarmTale <3

First Drabble (Thank @spotaus for the one who started this madness with the original prompt) Prev Drabble Next Drabble

No beta or edits :3 We just going. Again. Angst incoming!

*--------------------*

Nightmare huffs as he looks bored at his stupid math work. He doesn't get it! The teacher jsut... doesn't explain it like when Dusty does. Dust knows how to tell him things that make sense!

Nightmare doesn't like this school he has to be in.

He doesn't like being away from his dads- caretakers- his four. He prefers to be with them and have them decide when it is time to learn and how.

Nightmare knows he can trust them. they are safe.

At least he doesn't have to be here for long... Just a day each week. And just until they figure out his school level or something.

The teacher smiles at him and speaks softly "Hey there night night."

Nightmare glares wiht all his might at her "Nightmare." his name is nightmare! Only his dads- his four are allowed to call him night night or nighty or nightlight!! That is their right! Not hers!

The teacher giggles and smiles at him "I am sorry. Nightmare. How is your math going?"

Nightmare frowns as he looks at the numbers and the drawings of apples. something about adding stuff together and taking a few away or something. He knows he used to be able to do this but how he did it he can't quite remember or figure out.

Ngihtamre shrugs and plays a bit iwht his pencil.

The teacher nods as she crouches next to him "Still hard?"

Nightmare shrugs and mutters softly "Dusty could explain..."

He doesn't like most adults who are here. Most of them imply that his four did stuff wrong or are doing wrong. Nightmare doesn't agree. They did everything right! THey came back so they can't do wrong. This lady is nice. she makes sure her voice is quiet and lets him stay inside when the other louder kids go play outside. She doesn't mind him reading his book instead of drawing.

the nice teacher smiles and nods "I am sure your dad is a great teacher. He seemed like the smart type."

Nightmare nods before catching up with what she said and freezing. He keeps messing up in his head and calling them dads... would that be weird? He doesn't want to be weird.

she smiles and takes a seat next to him "How about we try to do the problems together? We can try to work through them then?"

Nightmare shrugs again. Not really caring that much. He just needs to wait a bit longer and one of them will pick him up and they will go home and snuggle. Killer found a new movie to watch. Probably more cowboys! Nightmare likes them okay but loves to just lay wiht Killer when watching as Killer loves those a lot.

his teacher smiles at him and takes out a pencil. "OKay. the first problem. it is a bit of complex adding with the higher numbers but it works the same as the smaller numbers and-"

a loud knock on the door.

The door opens and one of the older ladies walks in. Nightmare doesn't like her. she is strict and always looks at his dads disapproving. As if they did smething wrong. She is also the one who says it is just a matter of time before Nightmare will like being here. Nightmare knows better and makes sure to tell the interview guy each time he wants to have classes with dusty again.

his nice teacher frowns as she looks up "Is something wrong miss March?"

The older lady huffs but speaks up "Someone came to pick him up. somekind of emergency."

Nightmare frowns and glances over. it are two humans who both look rather official. He immediantly leans behind the nice teacher and mutters "Dusty said to never go with others." One of the rules. Never ever leave this building unless it was with any of them. One of them is usually the whole day in the building with him.

The nice teacher looks unsure "March. I know for a fact those man are not part of the group that was allowed to pick him up."

March waves at one of the man and he shows an official looking document with somekind of symbol on it. Nightmare doesn't like this and inches clsoer to his teacher.

SHe reaches for the paper but the man pulls it away and tugs it away "It is sensitive information. It is a matter of great importance that we leave right this minute."

Ngihtmare doesn't like this. this is bad. These man are lying. he just knows it. Nightmare knows liars and he doesn't like them and these two are lying!

Nightmare looks at the nice lady "I don't want to go. I wanne wait for dad." he is scared. please.

The nice teacher smiles at him before looking at the other three adults "I am sorry. but he doesn't feel comfortable. I am sure we can just wait here for one of his fathers to show up. I will stay late with him to wait." she offers immediantly and Nightmare feels a bit better.

March glares at her "April! Stop that. These man are very important. They say it is an family emergency."

April! That was her name! April looks unsure between them and then Nightmare "I still think..."

MArch sighs loudly "You are a kindergarden teacher. You don't think." she smiles at the two man "I am so sorry for her. I will make sure to give her a talking to. You two make sure the little man gets to where he needs to go!" she grabs Arpil's arm and pulls her along.

April protests loudly "Wait! Miss March! I really don't think this is a good idea!"

Ngihtmare plans to follow her but one of the man gets in the way. he smiles andit doesn't feel good. it feels dangerous. He knows those type of faces. He used to see them daily. Ngihtmare feels his fight or flight response start to appear as he glances around.

The man speaks ina soft and quiet voice "Hey there. I know this is very scary but we have somewhere very important to be okay? We need to be quick. come now."

Nightmare shakes his skull as he glances around. Panic in his soul and magic. Where is Dusty? Or Crossy? Kills? 'Ror? where are his four? One is always near?

Unless these man knew... unless there are more people and some of them are distracting them!

THe man grabs his arm and pulls him along. Nightmare is once again reminded that he is weak. Weak and powerless and useless as he can't even defend himself!

The leave the building and a van is parked nearby. More panic as he is pushed in and the door clsoes.

--

Cross feels numb as he watches Killer tear the two ladies a new one "What the fuck you mean you let strangers take him!?"

Miss March, the personal assistant of the owner of this whole fucking thing looks insulted "Well! I will have you know that I tried to stop it but that April, the naive idiot girl, decided to trust strangers!"

Said girl, woman honestly even if she is still young sits on a chair in tears. She had been the one to call them in a panic. April looks up wiht a glare and read eyes from crying "I told you not to trust them! I told you not to let them take him but you pulled me away and when i got back to where he was before he wasn't there and and and-" she sobs as she hugs herself, she stares at them begging "I am sorry. I swear i tried! I tried to stay wiht him but Miss march she-"

March hisses at her "shut up you stupid dimwit!"

Killer is seething as he glares at March "Where. is. our. child!?"

MArch stammers and tries to explain that some man came in about some emergency. Killer growls "so instead of verifying that they were speaking the truth you just trust the first person to walk in and way a piece of paper around?"

Cross stares at April. he still can't feel anything. just dread. He walks to her side and stares at her "What did they look like?"

April blinks as she looks at Cross with tears in her eyes. Cross just doesn't care. He needs to find him. Now. a glance shows that Horror and Dsut are talking with police man. Dust is beside himself and keeps trying to pull his hood further over his skull. clearly nearing an actual breakdown.

Cross can fix this. He just needs to get Nightmare back.

April sobs as she rubs her eyes. She thinks for a moment before giving an as detailed description as possible.

Arpil frowns as she pauses "there... there was this symbol on the paper. Wait. let me draw it." she opens her folder and grabs a bright blue glitter pen and starts drawing it. Cross knows a police officer joined him and is taking notes himself.

She shows the symbol "It looks likes this. Some werid snake around a sword. It looked a bit like the medical symbol and stuff but it doesn't quite like it." she frowns.

The police man frowns and starts to talk about this gang named the Viper and how they kidnap children. often political reasons.

Cross however already checked out as he starts thinking. the speed limit is about 30 kilometres an hour in these type of areas. This happened not longer than 20 minutes ago.

If they were pushing their luck and driving hard they couldn't have driven harder than 50 an hour. which means they are at this point about at maximum about 15 to 20 kilometres away.

If they are already known with the police? They won't risk being out long. They know when Cross and the others would be away because they were held up getting food and snacks. Meaning it was planned. Meaning they knew that they would immediantly get the news out.

Cross hums and glances towards the door. They are hiding somewhere nearby. They can't risk being in a car and being searched. This universe has cops that actually care and want to help people. If they are already on their shitlist?

a circle of 25 kilometres. That is what Cross thinks they should be within for now until they will feel brave to search for a spot to... to... do whatever they had planned for Nightmare.

Cross slowly backs away from the othrs. He mutters to Horror that he is going to catch some air. Horror shoots him a worried look but Dust is actively shaking and tears are leaving his sockets so Horror is quick to try and calm him.

Cross feels the air grow more and more static. he steps out of the building and glances up. Very dark clouds, black and purple and some flashes of lightning.

Cross looks around the area around the building. police cars are everywhere but none of them notice Cross. Cross looks at his own arm and can only see himself because he knows what to look for. a slight difference in depth compared to the area around him. His camouflage his active.

Good.

He will need that.

He glances around againa nd finds the cops looking at tire tracks. he gets near and studies them.

He hates what his universe made him. He hates what XGaster has made him. BUt... Cross can admit... It has its benefits. He memorises the pattern of the track in the dirt and considers how deep the track is. Yeah. Somekind of van. A small one but heavy. So probably a two seater and the loading area in the back. Most likely no windows or Nightmare could have waved to get someones attention.

Cross has an area. And a general idea on what to look for.

Time. To. Hunt.

---

Something smashes into pieces and Nightmare shakes as he keeps hiding his skull wiht his arms. Not able to ban out the voices.

"What do you mean you don't know who to contact?!"

another shouting voice "It means I don't know! We have had no one react to our messages and codes about him! Our hackers didn't find anything on those four! No schooling. No past lives. No past adresses. Nothing!"

the first voice "Of course not! One of them was tugged away from eye sight to even get that child! Find out who he was with and we know who will pay raw gold to get that little freak back!"

Ngihtmare shivers at that word. He isn't a freak... he isn't... Crossy always says he is special and perfect. that means he isn't a freak.

another voice "What if this was all a waste?"

the first voice "Then we find some other weird fucker that wants a monster child. There is always some sick fuck that likes toys like that."

Ngihtamre is shaking. he wants his dads. He wants to cuddle with his dad and eat food with his dad and watch tv and...

He sobs.

A loud groan "And of course that stupid thing is a whining crybaby and it won't shut up!"

a new voice. much more worried "euh... guys? Remember those clouds i was talking about?"

more groans and the tired voice of before answers "Dude. not now. we are having a crisis here."

THe newest guy continues "No you don't get it... the clouds? Those are completely black... there is no sunlight coming through."

silence before rushing steps and more curses and awed noises.

a moment of silence for another person speaks up "The radios are out...so is the phone service and well... any service..."

A flash and immediatnly loud thunder. Nightmare isn't afraid however... as that was Dusty's storm. He can feel it. the familiar static and magic that circles and seems to hug him. If Dusty's storm has already found him... That must mean Dust is close right? Or that dust now knows his location right?

Nightmare isn't sure how they are getting more powers. but they are so cool...

more sounds of annoyance and grumbles as the humans all take seats. grumbles about how they can't keep looking for a buyer now and that they will be forced to wait or risk being seen.

Nightmare looks around his small cage. he is stuck in somekind of animal cage in a dark room without any window. but he still feels and hears the lightning and thunder. he knows the flashes happen as he feels his own magic notice them. the immediant thunder after it.

They are right in the middle with the lightning right above them.

another crack and flash and suddenly loud shouts as the light under the door turns off. Seems like everything is broken now.

Loud annoyances and grumbles as they wlak around. shouting at each other. Nightmare rolls back up and waits.

He just... he just has to have faith! They found him once... surely they can find him again right? Surely... they want him still right?

right?

---

Cross runs through the forest. letting the static in the air guide him as he follows the tracks. Cross isnt'sure if the storm is leading him or if he is leading the storm at this point.

It doesn't matter.

The effect is the same.

Dust's storm and him move togehter. the lightning and static move in unison with Cross as he rushes through the forest. Everything grows quiet and still around him as he moves. unseen and more one with the world around him than seperate at this point.

It doesn't matter.

Because he found it.

He spots the van first and sees the house it is parked by after. He watches for a moment and the bright purple magic flashes quickly and loudly. flash after flash after flash.

It should be bothersome to him.

It isn't.

Cross moves silently as he reaches the van first. he pulls the door open with one harsh tug and takes the actual backdoor with the tug. he drops it to the ground and looks into the van. Nobody but there are small marks of someone having clawed as the floor.

Cross moves silently and smoothly into the van and studies the marks. He knows those marks. Nightmare tends to try and push Killer away and if they don't help him clip his claws before they get too long Nightmare tends to accidentally scratch Killer.

The scratches are never deep and never take longer than a few minutes to heal. Nightmare still feels bad about it even if Killer doesnt even feel it.

Cross follows the marks with one of his own fingers. He was right.

Cross leaves the van just as quietly as he entered it and walks towards the door. Not marching. More like gliding. Silent. Smooth. Quickly.

He gets to the door and pusehs his knife in between the side and the door. One quick push and the lock breaks and the door swings open. THe hallway is dark.

He hears movement deeper in the building.

Cross moves silent as a shadow. leaving no trail or tracks in his wake.

he moves through the hall and leaves the door open. purple flashes behind him and Cross can't help but notice that his shadow looks weird. almost as if his shadow itself is melting into the other shadows and stuff... weird...

He follows the hall and gets to the living room. He just pushes the door open and sees about seven humans all looking around trying to locate stuff wiht flashlights. one of the flashlights shines over him and the human screams bloody murder. the others turn and scream and yell themselves. something about a demon.

Cross doesn't care. He is here for two reasons. one. get his baby back. two? Make sure these sorry excuses never get the chance to take their baby away ever again.

Cross stares before rushing one of the humans. he has them by the head and throws them into the wall. the wall cracks and the human drops motionless to the floor. Cross slowly turns to the others.

The raise their weapons but Cros has already jumped another. He pushes the human to the floor and grabs them by the head. he smashes the head against the floor once and hears the tiles break just as the skull caves in on itself and the human goes motionless instantly.

Cross rises back to his full length.

One of the humans shakes as they raise their weapon "fuck... fuck!" and starts firing.

Cross doens't know why he doesn't move. Maybe it is... because he kidna knew. the bullets seem to all, just move through him. as if he isn't all the way there yet is. untouchable until cross wants to touch something.

more panicked cursing as Cross holds out an arm. and his own weapon materialises. he goes for his one large sword and gets to work.

It isn't even a fight.

Cross would think calling this a fight would be an insult to actual fights he had.

play fights and spars with killer are more challenging.

Having a verbal debate with Killer is more challenging! and Killer hardly even gives arguments!

Cross dematerialises his sword and stalks around the house. He doens't hear anymore movement of people walking around.

a soft sob.

Cross is by the storage closet in seconds and pulls the door open.

Cross wants to thank his lucky stars he has night vision because he doesn't even need a flash of lightning to see their baby. Cross is on his knees by the cage in seconds as he pushes a hand through the bars and rubs the tiny cheeks to clean the tears. only for fresh tears to appear and Nightmare to grab his hands.

Nightmare sobs "dad... I was scared."

Cross mutters soft praises and reassurances all at once as he just sits by his baby "it is okay nighty. I am here. I am not going anywhere okay? We will just wait here. Your other dads are on their way okay? we will go home and lay in the nest and read stories. You have been so brave and I am so sorry you had to wait for so long." More tears keep appearing and Cross keeps rubbing them away gently.

Cross will stay right there for as long as they need.

flashing police lights and Cross feels himself growl when his phone buzzes. He opens the chat and sees a message from Killer.

'horror texted me to say he sees a broken open car and the police are nervous. Make sure the police can break nightmare out. Stay near but invisible. I know it sucks but please!!'

Cross doesn't like it but he can already feel himself start to disappear from view. He whispers to Nightmare "I am staying right here with you okay? Some people will walk in and they are police man. They will bring you to Dusty and Horror okay?"

Nightmare sniffs and sobs as he looks desperate at Cross. Seemingly not at all bothered by Cross using his weird invisibility. Nightmare keeps staring at him and sniffs "promise? You won't leave?"

Cross smiles and rubs the tiny cheek "I will stay right here with you. Forever." like fuck anyone is going to get any of them to leave their baby. He is theirs and no one elses. Everyone can gets lost and disappear for all Cross cares. He has what he needs with his new family.

Nightmare nods and sits their shaking. his tiny hands not letting go of Cross's hand and Cross keeps holding both tiny hands wiht one of his as he rubs the tiny cheek with his other. The discomfort of how he needs to wiggle his way through the bars not even fully registering as he waits.

Loud shouts of police and slow steps. dead silence as they find the slaughter that Cross left behind. more rushed steps and a panicked voice "Kid?! Kid please be okay! Yell out! We are here to help! please we are worried and your dads are worried too!"

Nightmare sobs and looks at the door. He can't seem to find words and just whines. The sound feels like a shot right through Cross's soul as he keeps holding the tiny hands.

Rushed steps and someone with lights and red and blue reflectives steps in. The officer sighs in relieve "oh thank the heavens you are okay." he takes a step closer but Nightmare obviously flinches and tugs himself in a corner. more sobs and shaking leaves him.

Nightmare mutters sound so loud in the silent room "want dad... dad... where is dad?" more sobbing and his breathing comes out in short pants. slight panic starts to appear on his face.

The officer takes out his walkie talkie "Get one of those skeletons in here..." a moment of silence "I don't care! Lead them in then to make sure they don't touch anything! This child just went through actual hell and deserves someone he can trust." after which he raises both hands. making it clear he isn't hiding anything.

It doesn't help as Ngihtmare keeps breathing quicker and more whines. Cross tries to reassure him but it only helps so much. Cross has no doubt the cage isn't helping either but that would mean that cross would have to open the cage and the other would see that and Cross doubts even Killer can lie their way out fo that one and-

Running steps and a moment later Dust pushes past the officer. He stands frozen before he throws himself at the cage and just rips it open. He has Ngihtmare in his arms wihtin seconds and just. stays rolled up on the floor. shaking.

Cross sees the Nightmare immediantly starts breathing easier as he pushes clsoe to dust. more sobs "dad... .dad... i was scared"

Dust mutters soft apologises and love messages to Nightmare. How he is sorry he wasn't there. and that he swears he will be better and that he and the others all love him so much and that they were terrified and that they won't let anyone hurt him and how much they love him.

Cross just hugs the two for a moment. using his invisibility to give them some comfort. Dust leans into the touch and mutters a thanks for saving him.

the police officer reassurace him it is just their job but Cross knows Dust had aimed it at him.

It makes him feel warm inside. knowing he did soemthing to save their baby. to protect his family. warm and loved.

Cross follows Dust and the police officer out as Dust staggers outside. Still hugging Nightmare close and clearly trying to hide him from the world.

Once outside Horror steps over and easily lifts Dust and Nightmare. Hiding both in his arms as he mutters his own apologises to Nightmare and how scared they had been.

Cross can't help but notice that the sky is no longer thundering and while still cloudy and dark all the lightning had disappeared.

Cross then feels his phone buzz again and he checks the message. it is killer. sending him a message that as soon as he can he needs to reunite with him in the police car he is riding with. Make sure to be sneaky.

Cross watches his two mates not mates mates friends fush over nightmare as the police people get to work.

Cross leaves the scene of the crime and follows the road to reunite wiht killer.

He sees a few other cop cars making their way over to the location and eaisly enough spots Killer in one. Killer stares outside and Cross manages to land silently on the car roof.

As Killer ordered Cross manages to wiggle his way into the moving cop car. Killer nudges him in the side and Cross feels his camouflage finally disappear, as it disappears he feels the exhaustian start to creep up.

Killer grins at the humans in front "Again thank you for giving us both a ride!"

The police man blinks confused but as he looks up he stares at both Cross and killer. Killer keeps smiling and the police man ends up nodding "Well... of course! Heavens knows that I would be beside myself if I lost my little girl. My daughter is my whole world and if anything happened to her..." he shakes his head "of course we would all try to reunite you four with your boy as soon as possible!"

Killer continues talking to the human. Cross zones out as he suddenly feels so very tired...

For now? None of it matters to Cross. Let Killer figure out how to manipulate and lie to the humans.

Cross feels tired and just wants to see their mate with thier child. Safely reunite with their other mate.

Nothing else matters right now.

Cross still remains vigilant. He can rest later... Once they are home again. Once they are all safe again.

*--------------------*

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[middlingmay]

Horse Trainer!Gale x Veteran!Bucky AU

Part one of my headcanons for this AU is here!

Some warnings to get us started: slight mention of alcohol abuse, references to gun violence, war, death, PTSD and a car accident.

Something bright and cheery for your Wednesday, eh? I promise it gets cute later down the line, just not today! Today we mean business. So here we go!

Bucky couldn’t remember wanting to be anything other than a pilot when he grew up.

His ma used to draw all kinds of aircraft: jets, airliners, gliders, helicopters, even a seaplane once. John would tuck himself into her side and watch, mouth open and fascinated as she drew smooth confident lines.

She explained to him why the nose was this shape, and how the wings and tail needed to be in balance, why the placement and size of the engines mattered. She went to school for it, before he and his sisters came along. Well, before his dad came along, really.

He didn’t take much of it in, he'd be ashamed to realise later, but he did absorb her obsession with aviation. Just not for the design. He would however, try to encourage her to go back to school to finish her degree.

Mama Egan took him to his first air show when he was eight, and she had to scruff him by the neck to stop him from taking off like a shot towards the real, live WWII B-17.

Instead, he thrashed at the end of her hand, jumping around like an eel as she walked him towards it anyway, and accepted the boost inside once his ma had convinced the pilot to let John take a peek inside.

He never looked back.

He enlists when he’s eighteen, and rockets up the ranks quickly. By the time he becomes Major - and a very young Major - the new recruits look at him like he’s some kind of maverick, some kind of legend.

The higher-ups see the natural born leader he is, and the boys in his squadron know him as brave, quick thinking, and with instincts that couldn’t have possibly all come from training. He could read situations in the air like most of them read books. When John Egan had a feeling, or ordered you to do something out of the blue, you did not ask questions.

Although he joined up out of pure enthusiasm and desperation to be a pilot, he quickly sees his time in the air force as an opportunity to help people. But, almost as quickly, he realises that he and the Brass have different views on how to go about that.

He dislikes combat missions the most. Sometimes it’s pretty black and white, and John can feel pride when he sees enemy targets crumble into dust. Or when he’s lost one of his men and he feels a thrum of vengeance he knows he shouldn’t and tries to suppress but sometimes can’t quite help on the darker nights.

But mostly he learns how devastating combat missions are. He much prefers supply drops and recovery missions, but these are so few and far between, that he gives up that privilege to those in his squadron to help keep up their morale. Their morale was his responsibility, after all.

John takes to drinking, just a little bit. Never enough to affect his work. But on days when he can’t shake the anger or the gloom, the glow of whisky helps him hide it better.

Somewhere along the line, his passion burns out and he starts to want out. He’s still one of their best pilots, still a role model for all the pilots, navigators and serving men and women on base - that is to stay, he still acts the part. He signs up for his second eight-year contract, but two years into it, he can’t stomach the thought of the remaining six.

He admits as much on a tearful phone call to his ma, who promises him he doesn’t owe anyone anything, and if he needs to he better get his ass into that doctor’s office or she’ll come and drag him by the ear and drop him at the counsellor’s door herself.

“Don’t you go doing anything stupid, now, John. I didn’t raise a fool.”

And John doesn't. Do anything stupid, that is. But someone does.

Because the mission fucks up, and fucks up in a big way.

It's a recovery mission his squadron all but forces him on, all of them insisting it's his turn, and what did he do to deserve those guys and dolls, huh?

But Ken hadn’t given him the run down of his plane, because he’s taken some PTO, and his replacement ground crew chief was nowhere to be found. And from then on, John just has a bad feeling about the whole thing.

Afterwards, he can't ever remember much, but what it boils down to is two bullets in his shoulder, a dead co-pilot, a murdered political attaché left behind on enemy ground, and a package, called Robert ‘Rosie’ Rosenthal, safe back on American soil. And his superiors patting him on his good shoulder, telling him what a good job he did.

A good fucking job. Like some green kid hadn’t died choking on his own blood, staring at Bucky like he could do something. And a fella in his late 50s, who’d been harping on about his first grandkid, was never going to meet him because his body was never going to make it home.

So, when the doc tells him the physio isn’t working and his mobility is compromised, he barely feels a thing.

Major John Egan. Honourably discharged at twenty-eight.

He’s been warned he might feel a little lost at home. But no one warns him that he’ll mistake a framed photo of his old man as that dead attaché and it would start talking to him: “You left me behind. Who’s going to teach my grandkid ball, now?”

No one tells him he’ll scare the life out of his ma coming home from ladies' brunch, to see John, who’s been standing there God knows how long, still heaving in ragged breaths surrounded by smashed glass with blood running down the hand that holds a sizeable shard of it.

So he agrees to therapy.

It doesn’t go well. Crank sets him up with a friend of his experienced in medically discharged vets, but Bucky can’t disassociate them from the military. They get all mushed up as part of the problem in his head, so he stops going and avoids Cranks calls for a while.

And the dreams get worse. And the sleepwalking hits him like a freight train, although it only happens once. Once is enough.

He ends up on a back road. It’s the only reason, Bucky thinks, he didn’t die. He veers between the grassy verge and the road. It’s dark and he’s wearing all black, and the car doesn’t see him before it’s too late. They weren’t going too fast, but they clip him all the same and he wakes up in a hospital.

And the docs have evidently spoken to his ma, because whilst they’re treating his physical wounds, someone comes for a psyche eval and he gets a stern warning that either he gets proper counselling voluntarily, or he’ll legally be forced to. A much less pleasant experience.

And he meets the driver who clipped him. A shorter guy called Curt who walks in rubbing the back of his neck and not quite able to look John in the eye until he says, “Irish, huh? That how you didn’t hit the bullseye? Too short to see over the steering wheel?”

Curt cackles and the two of them talk easy after that.

In fact, John finds it easier to talk to Curt than anyone else since he left the air force. He tells Curt about the disillusionment of it all, the anger, the dreams, all of it. And Curt understands because he used to be in the medical corps and he knows there are things you can’t unsee. Some things a man just can’t reckon with himself.

But, Curt also tells him about the horse ranch he goes to, that helped him when no shrink or medication could.

Cleven Ranch he calls it, and tells John that when he’s up and ready, he’ll take him there.

[anniebeemine]

Some Days Are Diamonds, Some Days Are Stone- s.r. x reader

I found a new needle for my turntable so I’ve only been listening to John Denver recently.

Spencer's life after prison was a delicate balance, a constant tug-of-war between reclaiming the normalcy he craved and grappling with the shadows that prison had cast over him. Some days, he was able to push through the memories, the trauma, and the pain, but other days, it was all he could do to get out of bed. You stood by him through it all, a steadfast presence in the storm that still sometimes raged within him.

On the good days, Spencer seemed almost like his old self—calm, reflective, eager to engage with the world around him. He would wake up early, slipping out of bed with a lightness that had been absent for so long. Those mornings were precious, filled with quiet moments where the two of you would sit together in the living room, your legs tangled as you sipped coffee and talked about everything and nothing at all. He would lean back against the cushions, his arm draped casually around your shoulders, drawing comfort simply from having you close.

Some days, he’d suggest going out—just the two of you. You’d wander through the streets, hand in hand, taking in the sights of the city like tourists rediscovering its hidden gems. He loved going to dinner, savoring the taste of food that wasn't served on a plastic tray, the ambiance of a cozy restaurant that offered a semblance of normal life. The flicker of candlelight at your favorite Italian spot often brought a softness to his face, his eyes reflecting the warm glow as he listened to you talk about your day, nodding thoughtfully as he twirled spaghetti on his fork.

There were visits to museums, where Spencer would lose himself in the art, tracing the history behind each piece with that same enthusiasm you remembered from before everything changed. He'd stand in front of a painting, his hand lightly touching his chin, deep in thought, and you couldn't help but smile, seeing a glimpse of the Spencer you fell in love with—the one who could get lost in his own mind for hours, analyzing every brushstroke, every hue.

And the libraries—oh, how he loved the libraries. He would wander the aisles with you, fingers trailing along the spines of books, occasionally pulling one out to read a passage to you, his voice gentle, soothing. Those days were peaceful, filled with the quiet joy of rediscovery, of building a new life together, one moment at a time.

But not every day was a good day.

There were mornings when Spencer couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed. You’d wake up beside him, feeling the tension in his body, the way he curled in on himself as if trying to make himself small, invisible. Those were the days when the weight of everything he’d been through was too much to bear, when the memories of prison, the fear, and the loneliness crashed over him like a tidal wave.

He would lie there, staring at the ceiling, his mind far away. Sometimes, he would start to cry, silently at first, as if ashamed to let the emotions out. You’d reach out to him, gently placing a hand on his back, and he would turn into you, burying his face in your shoulder, his body wracked with sobs. All you could do was hold him, letting him release the pain in whatever way he needed to, whispering reassurances in his ear even though you knew they could only do so much.

On those rough days, Spencer would often retreat into himself, locking himself away in your room for hours at a time. He’d close the door, the sound of it shutting a painful echo in the quiet of your home. You’d give him space, knowing he needed to process things on his own, but it never got easier, hearing him cry on the other side of the door, knowing you couldn’t take the pain away.

When he finally emerged, he looked exhausted, eyes red-rimmed and weary, like he’d aged years in just a few hours. He wouldn’t say much on those days, just give you a small, tired smile that broke your heart a little every time. You’d guide him to the couch, making sure he was comfortable, and sit beside him, letting the silence between you be filled with unspoken understanding.

The rough days were hard, but you faced them together, even when Spencer didn’t have the energy to reach out to you. You’d make his favorite tea, read to him from his favorite books, or simply sit beside him, holding his hand, letting him know you were there, that he wasn’t alone.

In time, Spencer would start to come back to you, little by little. He’d start to talk again, to share the thoughts that had been tormenting him, and you’d listen, offering what comfort you could. The good days would return, and you’d cherish them all the more, knowing how fleeting and precious they were.

[e-vay]

Evay QA Bulk Post 4

Here's another roundup of questions! I'm sorry if you don't see your question answered here. I tried answering as many as I could handle. Thank you all for reaching out :)

PERSONAL ASKS

Anon asked: I don’t know if this is too personal or not, but if you feel comfortable sharing, what prompted you to make a return after not posting at all for about 3 years?

A: That's okay, I don't mind you asking. To be honest, I just suffered from art block for a very long time. I couldn't get myself to draw no matter how hard I tried. I would sit myself down and try to force myself to do it, but I just couldn't. I don't know why it went away and I don't know why it came back, but suddenly my spark came back with a vengeance! I'm back to wanting to draw all the time! I think that's both the wonderful and awful thing about creativity: you can't force it. It sucks, but hopefully I can serve as proof to others who are going through it that you can spring back from it.

Anon asked: Hi E-vay! I couldn't help but notice a few Coraline references in some of your art work, are you a fan of the film too? By the way, Sonamy 4 eva!!

A: Yes I LOVE Coraline! I never read the book but I love the movie. It fills my spooky little heart and soul!

sonicalover1345 asked: Hey, quick question have you watched Hazbin Hotel Prime video? If you have what is or are your favorite characters?

A: I haven't yet! Honestly when the pilot first came out years ago, I didn't care for it. (I love Helluva Boss, did not care for Hazbin Hotel). But I've heard a million people recommending the series and I've heard the songs because of Tiktok and a lot of the songs sound great, so I have been meaning to check it out.

Anon asked: What is your favourite Tim burton movie? 🖤

A: I want to say Nightmare Before Christmas, but to be completely honest it's probably Mars Attacks! It's so campy and funny and it has that retro horror sci-fi film feel to it, and the cast rocks. It checks all the boxes for me. I even have a Mars Attacks! print hung up at my office at work:

wind-upbaby14 asked: Just curious but what happened to that hell hath series you made and why did you stop?

A: I went through a severe art block and hadn't drawn anything for a long time, even though I had the whole script for it written out. However since getting my mojo back, I've completely re-written the story and am working on it again. You'll see more of HHNF soon and I'm certain you'll like it better than it was meant to be originally!

Anon asked: I’m unsure if you’ve been asked this before, feel free to ignore if so but would you ever consider opening a Patreon? Y’know for earlier access and possibly spicy art🤔?

A: I did have a Patreon once upon a time, but it gave me severe imposter syndrome lol It put too much pressure on me to put out content that I thought was worthy enough for people to be paying for, so I ultimately closed it down. It doesn't mean I won't ever open it up again, but I don't have any immediate plans to do that. Also regarding the spice haha 😅 I appreciate your interest, but I just don't like to share that kind of content.

milangakokoros asked: I know you like sailor moon, I remember that you published a drawing that you did in 2007 somewhere, of Aurora sailor moon version. What other animes do you like? have you seen saint seiya? (it's my current hyperfixation)

A: I don't watch much anime anymore, but I used to be obsessed with Naruto. That's primarily what I would draw back in my dA days, but I lost interest in it a long time ago. I also loved Fruits Basket, Kill La Kill, One Punch Man and Attack on Titan. There are other shows I've watched, but those were the major series. I haven't seen the series you mentioned, sorry!

milangakokoros asked: Have you thought about making more games like the one you made on Halloween?

A: Absolutely! I don't know what the next game will be, but I definitely want to make more!

prophecyhyper asked: Do you post any of your drawings on any other sites?

A: I sometimes post my art on my Instagram and I sometimes post timelapses of my drawings on Tiktok, but I mostly post here on Tumblr!

aviles2003 asked: I've been meaning to ask you this about adaptations, what is your only favorite Video Game Movie you wanna see, already watched, and excited to see? (Sonic the Hedgehog Movies, The Super Mario Bros Movie, Detective Pikachu, Or Five Nights at Freddy's?)

A: So far my favorite game-movie adaptation is the Super Mario Bros movie! I love it so much! I love that they kept the style of the game but made it a little more polished than what you'd get in the games. I loved the characters, I loved all the references within it, I loved the music. I just think it's a perfect adaptation. Of course I'm super excited for Sonic 3! I'm sure it's going to be great, I'm just praying that Amy will be in it! I need her in it :( I'd love to see a movie adaptation of Dead Space. That's one of my favorite games and ooh I think it'd make such a good horror film. I know they made animated movies for it, but I want it done in a proper hollywood horror way!

edwinflores428 asked: E-vay, since you're also a Beatles enjoyer, did you hear the new Beatles song 'Now and Then'?

A: I didn't know about this until you mentioned this in my inbox. Wow that was emotional! I can't believe they were able to make a song out of an old unreleased recording and really get to finally get closure for their band in a way. Just incredible!

Anon asked: hey, i logged in after a long time and i was just happy to see you’re still posting. i’ve been following since the deviantart days and i just wanted to say how much i enjoy your art. it has always brought me a lot of joy :)

A: This isn't an ask, but I wanted to include it just so I could tell those of you who send these kinds of messages to my inbox: Thank you ❤️ I don't know if you all realize how much it means to me to have your support. Whether you're new to my work or whether you've followed me since my deviantART days, it absolutely makes my day when I receive these kind of wonderful, positive messages. My only wish is that you didn't feel you needed to write me anonymously so I could thank you personally! But I'll respect your privacy ❤️ From the bottom of my heart, thank you!

-

MISC SONIC ASKS

Anon asked: I was wondering what your favourite brotherly head cannon would be between Sonic and Tails? :3

A: Even though Sonic's older and technically raised Tails, I love the idea of them sort of "raising each other." Sonic teaches Tails how to defend himself, how to navigate the world, how to do the right thing, but Tails is the one who teaches Sonic how to read and write, introduces him to philosophical discussions that Sonic finds really boring but actually helps him to be a better hero and be a better version of himself. I even like the idea of Tails being the one to teach Sonic how to play music. Sonic has a natural talent for it, but Tails is the one to teach him notes and chords, how to actually read sheet music, things like that.

umbrathehedgehog asked: Hey, I noticed that one piece about Sonic Prime. It's very nice! What did you like or not like about the show? Been seeing a lot of differing opinions on it and I'm really curious about what you thought!

A: Thanks so much! As a whole I'd say it was okay. It certainly wasn't the best Sonic media out there in my opinion but no way was it the worst. I understand it's a kid's show, but it was way too formulaic for me. It got to the point where I could pretty much bet "in 2 minutes Character A is going to seem like all is lost, then a loud explosion/sudden shake will happen, and they'll look up like 'whuAHHH???' and Character B will show up to help." That's fine, but not when it's happening multiple times every single episode. So to be honest, it wasn't a show that I looked forward to watching like I did with Sonic Boom. It was just something I had on because it was Sonic-related. But Sonic Prime had a lot of good character writing and the acting was great. They explored character relationships/dynamics and emotions that some other Sonic content hasn't done before, so I applaud them for that. It's mirroring what happened in Sonic Frontiers and I love that the franchise is willing to dig a little deeper on an emotional level like that. And I've said it before but I'll say it a million times more: Shadow was PERFECT! The positive of having Shadow portrayed so excellently far outweighed any negatives I could say for the show!

chrismantike asked: What’re your thoughts on longclaw (the owl from the sonic movie) does she exist in your AU as Sonic’s mom?

A: Well we didn't get to see very much of her, but I loved her design! She was very majestic and beautiful and kind. None of the characters or storyline from the live action movies are part of my AU.

-

MY OCs/AU ASKS

Anon asked: So when’s did aurora learn that she could turn invisible? And did she use it to pull a prank on her parents making them think she disappeared

A: Aurora discovers her light abilities when she's young (think about preteen age), but she doesn't fully know what all she can do yet. It takes a lot of experimenting and studying with Uncle Tails to figure out everything she can do. He is the one who tells her that if she can bend light, she should be able to use it to cloak herself. Tails and Sonic obviously mean she should use it as a defensive move, but Aurora instantly thinks it's the perfect power for pranks! Picture a lot of objects "floating" around the house with a lot of phony "OooooOOoooOOOO" ghost noises haha

Anon asked: Is aurora a comic book fan? If so what’s her favorite series

A: Aurora can enjoy super hero related stuff, but she's not an avid fan of it and I would say she does not read comics. Aurora is more into fantasy/romance books. Ruff is the one who is into comic books :) His favorite would be Batman.

Anon asked: I love your idea of Aurora and Sage being close friends, I really think that fits! That being said, do you think Sage and CC would get along?

and gale-gentlepenguin asked: I’m curious on how Sage would interact with Aurora and CC? I know it would probably be seperate universes but it would be fun to see how Eggman’s daughter reacts to Sonics daughter and a sentient AI of equal intellect

A: Thank you! I've been thinking about it and I like the idea of Sage and CC being rivals, but in a very cheeky, friendly way. Sort of like Sonic and Knuckles. Sage and CC would make everything into a competition to see who can solve this problem fastest or who can simulate something best, to determine who is truly the more intelligent of the two AIs. But again, not in a toxic way. In a "I have to be the best version of myself in order to beat you because the respect I have for you is insanely high" kind of way. And Sage could playfully tease CC for wanting to become organic because it'd be a "step backwards" in her evolution, but really she'd work to find a way to help make CC's dream come true.

antooogamer asked: Hello, I already know why Diamond is white and Boon's color is for Aurora, but now I have a question about Cinder, why is he Orange? :^

A: Orange is in the same color family as red and pink, so I think it still works. As far as color theory, in my AU Aurora has a grandma who is yellow and Shadow's fur includes red, so by blending those colors you can get orange. It's the same reason why Nova is purple, it's a blend of colors from their lineage. I tried Cinder out in several different colors but orange is ultimately what fit him best.

animefan299110 asked: After seeing your artwork of Sage and Aurora interacting, I got to ask: Do they hang out a lot or is Sage like a cousin/big sister who visits all the time?

A: They're more like best friends than sisters/cousins. I know people draw Sage growing older and stuff but I personally headcanon that she'd stay in the form of a child because she feels no need to grow up. But once she's friends with Aurora, then I could see her "aging" up alongside Aurora so that she always matches her friend. It's just a headcanon of mine for now and that could ultimately change in the future.

Anon asked: Has Aurora ever been to space before if so what were her thoughts. Was she like markiplier with the whole space is so cool song.

A: Aurora DESPERATELY wants to go to space more than anything! But for most of her life she hardly ever left her home. It isn't until she's grown up that she actually starts to properly explore the world. Eventually I want her to go to space, but it would be once she's living on her own.

skywriter97 asked: So I saw this one fanart comic (that I can't remember the name of) forever ago and in it Shadow had his emblem tattooed on his arm and it made me wonder (since you the best Sonic fan artist hands down no contest) does Sonamy/Shadora (or any of your characters kn your Au) have any tats or piercings anywhere? If so, what and where? (If the fur doesn't get in the way for them lol) (Votes go to Shadow being a tatted and pierced edgelord cuz that would be so 🔥🔥🔥👌👌👌😍🤩😍🤩🤩😍🥵🥵🤤🤤🤌🤌🤌)

A: You are just so sweet, thank you! You know I'm very pro tats and I love seeing what people think the different Sonic characters would get. For my AU, I only have two (technically three) characters depicted with tattoos. Amy's dad Clay Rose has two tattoos on his bicep: A heart with his wife's name in it, and then a matching little heart with Amy's name in it. Adult Knuckles has a simple "M.E." tattooed on his bicep. It's a reference to Knuckles' theme and also his dedication to the Master Emerald. Lastly, I have the human version of Cinder (but only the human version) with forearm sleeves that continue down his hands. So far those are the only characters I have with tattoos. As far as piercings, most of my characters have ear piercings but they don't often wear earrings. Blitz and Lulu are the only characters who always wears earrings. I could see Shadow getting at least an ear pierced, but I headcanon that with his rapid healing that it would almost instantly close if he didn't actively wear a piercing at the time.

Anon asked: I totally hope that Piper will have a girlfriend! Do you see her more with a girl or a boy?

A: I currently see PIper as demiromantic. She is currently not interested in anyone romantically or physically, and I don't want to diminish that part of her identity by saying 'Oh but she'll eventually end up with __." Of course, a headcanon is whatever you want so if you personally ship her with a woman that's cool with me!

Anon asked: Hey evay, i was looking at this old info of Amy, and It says that she wans't always at home, did Aurora had any issue with that? Did some part of her childhood she could say that she had mother issues? (Sorry if you can't understand, my english it's terrible 💀)

A: Your English is excellent! I wouldn't go so far as to say Aurora had mother issues. Amy wasn't completely absent from Aurora's youth, she was just working a lot so she wasn't constantly at home the way Sonic was. It would have made things a little awkward/emotional at times because that naturally made Aurora favor Sonic a little more when she was younger, but that also made the times she did have with Amy all the more special. Aurora never thought to herself "My mom has abandoned me because she's never home," it was more of a "Work is stupid and being grown up is stupid because it means Mom can't stay home and play with me all day." Aurora and Amy grow a lot closer as Aurora gets older and better understands the meaning of responsibilities and commitment.

Anon asked: Hi hi! I'm kinda new in the Sonic fandom and I've seen lots of your comics and content so far (That are great!) The shadora refs of their kids are just so *chef kiss*, when I looked at it, I told myself: "Damn, I wanna make ref sheets this great for my characters too!" I love the fact that you called them an horde! xD And the angst with Shadow's immortality must be amazing! Uh I'm getting out of the subject ^^'' I wanted to ask you if you planned or did anything with Silver? I don't think I saw anything from you with him And another question, if no one asked this before, are any of Shadora's kiddos immortal too? Or maybe they're "half immortal"? Like, they live longer than everyone else but still has a shorter lifespan than their dad I love your work! Keep going! ^^ And have a wonderful day :D

A: Wow, that's so kind of you to say! Thank you so much! I hope you do make ref sheets for your characters :) I haven't planned anything with Silver for my AU yet. To be honest, I don't know his character very well and I try my best to always keep the original characters in-character, so that's why I haven't done anything with him yet. But I recently purchased the volumes of IDW comics and I'm hoping to understand him better and then I will be more confident writing him! Secondly, none of the Shadora horde are immortal. They have stronger immune systems so they can heal faster and are less likely to get sick than the average Mobian, but they are still mortal and still age at a normal rate. Thank you for the questions and compliments!

Anon asked: I love the Shadora babies sm !! My question is..What excactly happend in the fight between Diamond and Cinder? Love your art btw&lt;3

A: Thank you so much! I need to make a comic about it. When they were young they were all exploring the different zones and Cinder was really struggling with some of the obstacles so he was already getting quite aggravated. Diamond noticed this and offered to help because some problems are better solved as a team, and Cinder immediately gets pissed and tells her to buzz off. She gets upset that he snaps at her, and there's some escalation between the two and finally Cinder blows up at her (literally). He immediately regrets it as he did not mean to hurt her, but the damage is already done.

degux asked: What would happen if Metal Sonic ( somehow :v ) met CC ?

A: Hmm. Well, even though Metal Sonic is based on Sonic, I love stories that involve him having an identity crisis and ultimately deciding that he's not just going to be a clone. He's his own entity, right? They're alike, but they're not the same. I don't know where he'd be on that self journey by the time he meets CC, but she'd definitely see him as his own person, not as a Sonic copy. But likely he'd still be an antagonist, so they'd end up having to battle lol

milangakokoros asked: does team chaotix exist in the Aurora universe? and have they interacted with the Rose family?

A: They definitely exist in my AU, but I haven't completely decided what their roles are yet. I can see Vector becoming Cream's stepdad (I'm not passionate about the VanillaXVector ship but I know it's practically canon), and then that leads me down a rabbit hole (pun intended) of how does that affect the dynamics of Team Chaotix? I have some rough ideas but I need to spend more time on it.

Anon asked: Have you thought about introducing Vector or Team chaotix in your sonamy and Aurora comics? :0 I picture him being "Uncle Stanley Pines" from Aurora and the Hyena Boys.

A: I had to add this question immediately after because your idea of Grunkle Stan made me laugh out loud! Oh my gosh I love that!

Anon asked: hola, tengo una pregunta. Hace mucho que no veia tu contenido y veo que estas de vuelta me alegro! :) Mi pregunta es aurora no tenia un hermano? Si no mal recuerdo creo que tenia uno y de ser asi el caso, el también tendria sus propias aventuras? Lo poco que recuerdo de el es que estaba en un dibujo tuyo de navidad con toda la familia sonamy junta y otro donde aurora lo abraza. Me gustaría saber que fue de el

A: ¡Gracias! The character you're referring to was an OC made by my friend Nana, a Sonamy fankid named Spazz. I sometimes drew him interacting with Aurora because my friend Nana and I just liked to draw our characters interacting, but Spazz is not a part of my AU. Nana is no longer on tumblr so that's why there aren't any Spazz art/comics anymore.

Anon asked: Does Sonic’s Uncle Chuck exist in your AU?

A: No I don't include the Archie comics or characters at all

⚠‼️THIS QUESTION MIGHT BE TRIGGERING. SKIP IF YOU NEED TO. TW: INFERTILITY ‼️⚠ Anon asked: Hi e-vay! I’ve recently re-read your ‘Boom Baby’ comic & was wonderin’ - especially with all their attempts - did Sonic or Amy, either one, stuggle with infertility? If so, did they ever have any doubts of that “I’m pregnant” moment ever happening?

A: Infertility is a very real issue that many people (including those very close in my life) deal with. Although I do think it's very important for people to be able to see their experiences reflected in the media they consume to help them remember that they aren't alone in their experience, this is not something I wanted Sonic and Amy to have to deal with for Boom!Baby. The chapter where Sonic references making multiple attempts during a certain window of time was not meant to imply that they were struggling with infertility. It was instead supposed to show that now that they've both decided they want a child, Amy doesn't want to take any chances to make sure it happens lol. TMI - Even without fertility issues, getting pregnant is not always guaranteed so it can take a lot of planning and timing (and frankly, luck) to be successful. Super TMI - I headcanon that Sonic and Amy are already intimate A LOT so now that they're trying for a baby it's above and beyond and that's why Sonic is tired in that chapter lol

fireghost234 asked: Hi this is my first time asking you!!!, does sonic in your AU still have his swordfighting skills from black knight?

A: Thank you for the question! Personally I don't think he'd retain those skills after that experience, so no that's not a trait he has in my AU anyway.

madysonisbae19 asked: Okay so I’m listing to the Encanto soundtrack and when Surface Pressure came on tell me why I instantly thought of Diamond singing this song when she is down about being physically the strongest out of her family.

A: That song (and character) is so her! Thank you for pointing that out to me, I'm going to associate that with her now 🥰

Anon asked: Did Aurora actually got bullied in school?

A: In my stories Mobians don't really go to "school," but yes she was bullied by a group of other kids when she was little. I have a script for a comic for this, I just haven't drawn it yet.

Anon asked: I think I'm pretty sure you based post-Boom to make your comics, but do you think Prime to becanon to your comic continuity too?

A: My AU is a fluid situation haha It adapts as more Sonic content comes out and I get to pick what I want to include. That's what makes AUs fun! Hmmm, ultimately I'm going to say no, I don't think Prime is canon to my stories.

Anon asked: Hi e-vay! Just wanted to ask, will we ever see what happened with Sonic and Amy's wedding in your AU? We've seen Amy's pregnancy with Aurora and their first date, so it seems like another natural relationship landmark to make a shenanigans-filled story out of! Also, keeping on the Sonamy wedding topic, what's their guestlist look like? Are there any surprises in who's getting an invite and who isn't?

A: I definitely have a sonamy wedding comic in the works :) It's going to be multi-chaptered. I would love to answer your other questions but I don't want to spoil the surprise! 😜

SHIPPING ASKS

Anon asked: Not to sound weird or anything, but does Sonic have a go to move that seduces Amy? 💙🩷

A: He simply ✨exists✨

Anon asked: Does Sonic ever dream about Amy?

A: I mean, I think so 😉

Anon asked: Hi e-vay! I had a question for you that I've been wanting to know about. If you read Harry Potter or watch the movies, don't you think that Harry and Ginny's relationship is similar to Sonic and Amy? I know this is kind of random, but it's like Harry is the hero, and Ginny was always in love with him, but their relationship slowly developed throughout the books, especially the 6th book. And that's how Sonic and Amy have been throughout the years

A: Hello! I have seen the movies and I read some of the books, but I don't know the series all that well. Actually, I don't remember Ginny being in the movies much at all, so I was a little confused when she and Harry ended up together. Maybe there was more to it in the books that I just never read. So if I'm going solely based on the movies I've seen, I can't say that I see the correlation. But that's not to say you're wrong in thinking that :)

aurorathehedge6 asked: What's your favorite Sonamy art that you made?

A: Definitely My Gal, specifically the last couple of chapters. I put my whole heart into that story and I'm pretty proud of it.

essycogany asked: Hi! First, I want to say that I LOVE your work! You’re so talented and I couldn’t appreciate your stuff enough. How are you feeling about the new Sonamy material from this and last year? Things are really starting to become more obvious as the years go on. Hope you’re doing well. 💖

A: Thank you so much! I hope you're doing well too :) UGH!!! 😩💙💖💙💖💙💖 We have been fed SO WELL lately! I can't believe it, what a time to be alive! I'm still sure they won't ever make it canon, but I love the sweet little snippets we get and just how much Sonic and Amy's relationship has evolved over the years to be so much closer. And I giggle like a little maniac every time they're on screen together or they're side by side in marketing. It makes my heart SING!

Anon asked: Are you still a fan of of the OT3 hedgies (Sonamyshad) and are still a fan of shadamy? Will we see any dribbles about them. Your art is so pretty 😍🤩 I just wanna see more 🤣😅 sorry if that embarrassing!

A: That's not embarrassing, that's crazy kind of you to say! Thank you! Yes I do still adore those ships and need to draw them more. It just seems every time I go to draw something my hand gets possessed by the ✨spirit of sonamy✨😂 I promise I'll draw the others at some point!

Anon asked: Are there any ships that you just… don’t get? Not dislike or hate or anything, just one that you fully don’t understand the appeal for…? Cause Metal Sonic and Amy is a ship that kinda baffles me. Like most Amy ships have some appeal. Sonic is obvious, you’re Ms. Sonamy after all. But Shads, Silver, Blaze, and even Surge have fun dynamics, and Metal doesn’t really strike me as a character that is able to be shipped effectively… Thoughts?

A: There definitely are ships that I don't understand. But if I don't understand or don't like a ship (or fan theories, or whatever), I'd rather just not talk about them. I used to indulge in that style of arguing discussion when I was a kid but I don't do that kind of stuff anymore. If I don't get something I just say "That's not for me" and move along. I do support the MetAmy ship myself but it's not at the top of my ship list (lol). I like it because Metal Sonic is based on Sonic, and if they're meant to be similar and I believe that Sonic does care about Amy, then that logic would tell me that Metal cares about Amy, too. And even though Metal is a villain, Amy does care about his well being (just like she cares about everyone's well being). Metal Sonic is also one of the main reasons Amy and Sonic met in the first place, so I think she holds a special place in her heart for him, even if it's not 100% romantic. That's my reasoning, but I don't want or expect you to change your opinion.

Anon asked: Will tails and CC ever get married?

A: Whoa now, I've never even drawn them on an official date yet ;)

Anon asked: What tv shows would sonic and amy watch together?

A: I think a lot of feel-good comedies like Brooklyn 99, Bob's Burgers, Modern Family and Schitt's Creek.

*The next question is a Shadora Ask. Skip if you don’t like Shadora*

Anon asked: What would Shadow and Aurora’s fave show be?

A: They don't have similar tastes in shows, but I could see them both enjoying Only Murders in the Building and cut throat competition cooking shows like Hell's Kitchen.

*The next question is a Shadora Ask. Skip if you don’t like Shadora

gray3754 asked: How old would Amy and Sonic be when Aurora started to date shadow

A: I don't really do exact ages, but Sonic and Amy have Aurora roughly when they're in their mid-to-late 20s. So they would be in their mid-to-late 40s when Aurora and Shadow first meet.

*The next question is a Shadora Ask. Skip if you don’t like Shadora

aurorathehedge6 asked: What's your favorite Shadora art that you made? Also have Sonic, Amy, Aurora, and Shadow ever been on a double date?

A: Hmm, I think my fav Shadora art is the comic where Shadow and Aurora discuss her "wings" (back quills). It started out as just a fluffy piece but I think it really set the tone for their relationship in my stories. As far as a double date -- I could see them trying a double date early on when Shadow first states his intention to date Aurora, but it doesn't go well. Years later when Sonic is more accepting of their relationship I could see them occasionally going out for lunch/dinner together instead of just their weekly family dinners at home.

*The next question is a Shadora Ask. Skip if you don’t like Shadora

ticciticcicendy asked: I don't know if you do this question but has any of Aurora and shadows kids ever walked in on them?

A: Hahaha, Shadow is too savvy for that! He had the Shadora house built to essentially be a fortress, which also means the primary bedroom is practically a vault. Ain't nobody getting in there unexpectedly hahaha

*The next question is a Shadora Ask. Skip if you don’t like Shadora

lazypatrolpizzapersona asked: One question, is Aurora jealous when Shadow is with these girls?

A: I'm not sure what girls you are referring to? But Aurora is not a very jealous type.

*The next question is a Shadora Ask. Skip if you don’t like Shadora

zero-aurion asked: Quick question, in terms of lap pillows, for Tails and CC and Shadow and Aurora, who rests their head on the others lap more?

A: CC doesn't need to rest, but Tails is so soft that she just loves to lay against him so she'd definitely use him for a lap pillow more. BONUS POINTS for using his tails as a shawl around her shoulders! Shadow is more likely to rest his head in Aurora's lap. The way she strokes his quills is very soothing and makes him feel content. She also has thick thighs so very, very comfy for lap pillows!

--

Thank you all for the questions!

Evay QA Bulk Post 1

Evay QA Bulk Post 2

Evay QA Bulk Post 3

[manias-wordcount]

Hi! I love your Tamaki (OHSHC)/reader stuff, so I was wondering if I could request one. I'd love to have a fic where Tamaki and reader are married and reminiscing about their high school days, thinking about how they fell in love at Ouran all those years ago. Maybe reader frequented the host club or they had classes together, up to you. I just want some lovey-dovey fluff. ♡

Also, I don't really have a preference for reader's gender since I use both she/her and he/him pronouns, so you can make it gender neutral if you want, I'll leave that to your discretion. (I kinda love Tamaki calling reader his wife or husband though. Lmao)

Thank you for taking the time to read my request! Let me know if you want any more details or anything from me, but I'll leave my silly little prompt in your capable hands. Thank you! ♡

Photograph (Tamaki Suoh x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼! 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗵𝗲 :)

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

Your lives are busy. There’s no doubt about it. 

  Sometimes it’s you, running up and down the country. Sometimes it’s him, living at his private airport between flights. Sometimes it’s you who has to be up and out before breakfast. Sometimes it’s him who only makes it home in time to crawl into bed beside you when you’re good and fast and asleep. And sometimes you can go a couple of days with only listening and leaving voicemails because no matter what you do or when you call, the other person always misses that call you were only able to shave out three minutes to have.

  But sometimes, it all goes away. If you’re lucky, it’s a week. You’re hitting the lottery if it’s a month. But you’re counting your blessings if you can score just a few days with no work and no responsibilities calling your name. And in those days? You like nothing more than to be close to him. And he likes nothing more than to be close to each other. So how do you remedy it? It’s simple.

  You’ll ask to be left alone in the great big house that you share with enough food to last you these next couple of days. You’ll curl up to him on the couch, dressed in nothing but your pajamas. And he’ll hold you tight and hold you close beneath the blankets and in front of a warm, warm fire. And you’ll smile so sweetly when he takes your hand in his and places gentle kisses around the wedding ring that he gave to you- the one that has been in his family for generations. And you’ll tell him how he’s distracting you from looking at the picture book again.

  The one that his closest high school friends made for the two of you just in time for your wedding. 

  “Aww, Tamaki~” You coo at him when a moment you remember very clearly crops up in the album. He doesn’t respond at first- too busy pressing tiny kisses against your skin and cuddling around you even more in that cuddly fashion of his. But that doesn’t stop you from studying the current picture in your hands. “We looked so long back then. Do you remember this?”

  As expected, it’s a picture of the two of you in the infamous Music Room number three. And it’s one of the better ones taken with Kyoya’s hidden cameras when he was first getting into that sort of thing if you recall correctly. The club wasn’t set up to run that day, and so the curtains were drawn closed in a way that let very little light in. But it did, however, manage to spotlight the two of you as you lingered by a beautiful grand piano. 

  The one that currently sits in your drawing room just down the hall and to the left.

   In the photo, you’re standing on the side of the piano bench Tamaki is sitting on, your old flute in hand. The still image of you has your gaze trained on the sheet music propped up in front of you as your fingers press down experimentally on a few of your keys. However, the Tamaki in the image isn’t looking at the music. Nor is he looking at his piano. No, instead he’s looking up with such an adoring expression captured on his face. 

  An expression that he has simply because he’s looking at you. 

  “Of course I do,” the Tamaki in your arms suddenly murmurs. His voice is soft, and the corners of his lips are twitching upwards to showcase an even softer smile to you as he eyes the photo in your hands. The recognition is in his eyes instantly, and it feels nice to once again feel validated by the man you love so much. To see that the moments you found special all those years ago ended up being special for him too. “It’s our first time practicing for our duet. I was so nervous that day.”

  You smile a bit wider as he reveals the exact occasion for the picture. But then you stop for a second and think for a moment. 

  “You were nervous?” You asked with a slight laugh and a raised eyebrow evident in your voice. You recall being quite a bit nervous about the performance that ended up being scheduled a couple of weeks later. But you also recalled being excited at the chance of working with the great Tamaki Suoh and hearing him play piano for you. But it sounded like your then duet-partner, now husband had a slightly different experience “For our…practice?”

  “Of course!” He exclaims as he turns towards you. You’re very suddenly met with a face full of violet-colored eyes and blonde hair as an impassioned Tamaki decides that now is the perfect time for a deeper dive into the story of the two of you. But it’s not like you can deny him the simple pleasure of telling you a story. Not when his eyes shine so brightly like that. “You only knew as a host back then, so I knew I would never get you to like me back if I didn’t impress you!”

  At his words, your mouth parts open in surprise. It takes you a couple of moments to process just exactly what you heard. And it takes you a couple more seconds after that to fully understand the implications of what he just said. And now in your mind, you’re pulling up a timeline in your head. Recalling core memories and feelings and events that shaped who you are as a person. Who you are to Tamaki. And when you’ve gotten every

  “Tamaki…” You call out very slowly, resisting the urge to melt on the spot as he tilts his head curiously at you. Your eyes drag along his face- looking at the man you’re in love with. And recalling all the subtle changes you’ve witnessed as the two of you grew older and older in your relationship together. There are small changes you can see. Little bits and pieces here and there. Signs that he’s grown from the silly, energetic, and oh-so-dramatic teenage boy that you first met. Signs that you know exist in you too in their own little way. Showcasing your growth in both big and small ways. But it makes you wonder about all the little things you might have missed. The little things that you might have passed over. All the little things that were right in front of you, and you just never knew. “That was in our first year…”

  And you decide that there’s no time like the present to ask.

  “Mhm.” Tamaki agrees easily. Eagerly even. Though the smile on his face gleams with the familiar look of nostalgia. Showing you that there was always more to the story than you knew from the beginning. And so you press onwards. And you asked the question that you should asked a long, long time ago. And that dear, sweet husband of yours?

  “Have you…liked me since then?”

  He smiles at you.

  He holds you tight, presses his lips to the ring on top of your finger, and he smiles at you. The bright, big Tamaki smile that makes you feel so warm and safe and soft. That bright, big Tamaki smile that makes you feel so adored and cherished and loved. 

  “My dear…”

  That bright, big Tamaki smile that you learned to fall in love with all those years ago.

  “...I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

[aylacavebear]

The Traveler - Chapter 21 - Mechoria Pt. 4

You're from a specific dimension, Solaris Eclipse. It was a dimension of magic. When your kind, the Eldrathiren, turned fifteen, your unique power would awaken within you. Most times, it was something small, levitation, teleportation, creation, elemental manipulation, and things like that. Once in a while, a fifteen-year-old would just disappear, and those were called Travelers. None of them had ever returned. Your parents had told you stories about them, and you hoped that wouldn't happen to you.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 7270

Pairing Eventually Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You & Sam Winchester x OC Reader/You

Warnings: Suspense, missing the Earth.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 21 - Mechora Pt. 4

Your mind had been on the sewer system and were again at the library, looking through old documents regarding the city. It had been a week since you’d helped Zephyr and spoken to Kellen. The library was massive, several stories above the main level and several stories below. It would have been easier if all the information regarding the city was in one location, but to your dismay, it wasn’t.

Getting frustrated, you gathered up the papers you’d been going over, then returned them to where you’d gotten them before heading down another flight of stairs to the last level of the library. You scanned the shelves, reading titles of books, labels on boxes of files, scrolls, and old parchments from things in the distant past. There seemed to be records of everything except what you were looking for, a map of the old sewer system.

A soft rusting caught your attention and you turned to see the elderly librarian, her eyes wise and kind, approaching you. “You seem troubled, dear. Can I assist you with something?”

“I’m looking for a map of the old sewer system,” you replied, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. “I’ve searched everywhere but can’t seem to find anything.”

The librarian smiled gently. “Ah, the old sewers. They are quite the labyrinth. Follow me.” She led you to a corner of the library you hadn’t explored yet. Reaching up to one of the higher shelves, she pulled down a dusty, leather-bound tome. “This might be what you’re looking for.”

You took the book from her, carefully opening it. Inside were detailed drawings and descriptions of the sewer system from centuries ago. “Thank you,” you said, relief evident in your voice.

“Take your time,” she replied, patting your shoulder before leaving you to your research.

You spent the next few hours poring over the maps and notes, carefully noting down essential details. The sewers were indeed a labyrinth, with tunnels that extended far beyond the city limits. As you studied, a pattern began to emerge. There were several hidden entrances, some of which were no longer in use or had been forgotten over time.

Remembering how Nix had explained that the sewer had been sealed off, you looked at all the entrances. You knew you’d have to check each one to figure out which ones were still accessible and which ones were not, but you’d need to map it out. On a piece of parchment paper, you drew out the sewer system from the images in the book. Then, you pulled out the map of the city and meticulously began marking where the entrances had been noted in the book.

This is going to take a day or more to check each one, you thought, realizing the scope of your task.

The entrances were scattered throughout the city and nearly a dozen more outside the city walls. You sighed as you began cleaning up, carefully tucking your map back where it had been. After returning the books to their places, you gathered your notes and headed back to the inn, paying for a meal before heading to your room. You’d already figured out how you would tackle this next task and realized it was going to take you at least two days.

The next morning, you woke early, determined to begin your exploration of the sewer entrances. After a quick breakfast, you double-checked your supplies: both maps, your blade from Aqualumina, your pouch from Lysara which you’d added some extra food to, and a few miscellaneous provisions you put in a small bag that you had purchased during your first few days in this world. Once you got your hair up in a braid and slung the bag over your shoulder, you headed out.

You started on the southern portion of the city, stopping at each location as you came across it, then marked it on the map with an X. So far, they had all been sealed off, not even leaving a trace behind that they had ever existed. It was the same with the east side of the city. By the time you headed back to the inn, you’d managed to check just over half of the city, all the entrances being sealed off.

As you ate dinner that night in your room, you looked over the map again. You were betting on at least one entrance outside the city walls and one inside the city but were having difficulty pinpointing where they would be. You wanted to solve this so that perhaps you could get back to Earth quicker, remembering what the Luminous had told you.

Day two was similar to the day before, but this time, you did find an opening that wasn’t sealed off. It was on the Northern side of the city, tucked inside one of the abandoned buildings. The area was eerily quiet, the only sound being the rustling of leaves in the wind. You circled its location on the map before moving on, not quite ready to go into the sewers just yet. You would need to go back over the map of the sewers you made so you didn’t get lost in the labyrinth of tunnels.

There was another entrance that was only five blocks away from the Clock Tower, and that one you put a star near. You were careful though, while you were looking for these entrances. The last thing you needed was to draw too much attention from anyone who might be a part of the Rust Coalition. That night in your room, you marked the entrances on the map of the sewers you had copied, noting how they seemed to be in key locations.

On day three, you headed outside the city walls. The sun hadn’t even fully risen yet as you made your way toward the first of six locations in this area outside the city. You had a distinct feeling that all those would be sealed off but wanted to check to make sure. With the openings you did find and where you’d found them in the city, you knew there had to be at least one outside the city near them.

Your ears twitched with the sounds of the wildlife as you checked the areas you were pretty sure were sealed off. It did take you nearly all day to check every location on the map. The surprising thing, was you never saw anyone. Something you figured was that someone from the Rust Coalition would have been guarding the two entrances you did find, but that wasn’t the case. One of the entrances was near the northern side of the city but a decent distance away and into the forest. You couldn’t even see the walls of the city. The other entrance was further west and mostly covered with plant growth, looking as though not even the Rust Coalition had used it.

After marking the locations on the map, you returned to the inn, paid for dinner, and retired to your room for the night. You marked the locations on the map of the sewer you’d drawn, then went over how the tunnels were connected. There were several areas that were almost the size of a small room. The book from the library had mentioned how they had storage rooms down in the sewers for supplies. There was also an entrance you hadn’t been able to check, the one under the Clock Tower.

The fourth day began with you feeling more prepared than ever. You had memorized most of the map and felt confident in your ability to navigate the sewer system. After a hearty breakfast, you gathered your supplies and made your way to the northern entrance, the one tucked inside the abandoned building.

The building was just as quiet as before, its dilapidated structure standing as a silent sentinel to your secret mission. Carefully, you removed the cover and descended into the darkness below. The air was damp and musty, the sound of dripping water echoing off the stone walls.

With your ability to see in the dark in shades of gray, you had no need for a lantern, and it would also help hide your presence if you came across someone. This was also when your senses were more alert. You consulted the map frequently, making sure you were on the right track. The sewers were a maze of tunnels and chambers, and getting lost was a real danger.

Strange bugs moved along the walls while spider-looking creatures lay in wait in their webs along the ceiling. Occasionally, there would be some sort of rodent-looking creature that would scurry away as you walked further down the tunnels. There was also a strange odor in the air, and you wondered if it had to do with most of the entrances being sealed off or if it was just the lack of the place being tended to.

As you progressed, you found signs of recent activity - scuff marks on the floor, a discarded piece of cloth. Your heart raced with the knowledge that you were getting closer to the Rust Coalition’s base.

It felt like hours passed as you navigated the tunnels, marking intersections and noting significant features. You reached a large chamber that seemed to be a storage area, just as the book had mentioned. Boxes and crates were stacked against the walls, some covered in dust, others looking as though they had been recently disturbed.

You paused, listening intently. The faint sound of voices echoed from a nearby tunnel, but they sounded as though whoever was talking was keeping their voice hushed. You got as close to the wall of the tunnel as you dared, without touching it, slowly inching your way closer. You weren’t scared, but you were cautious, as you didn’t need to be found out.

Taking a deep breath, you crept closer, moving silently in the shadows. The voices grew louder, and you could make out snippets of conversation. They were talking about the living rust and its progress of spreading toward the city. You had found them - the Rust Coalition.

Gathering your courage, you decided to get closer and gather more information. You knew you had to be careful. One wrong move, and you’d be discovered. The fate of this world rested on your shoulders, and you were determined to see it through. You had to. Your soul needed you to so you could get back to them.

“... it should reach the city within the week. Have the preparations been made?” a male voice asked in a hushed tone.

“Yes. The heads of both guilds and our leader, Thorne, are fully prepared. They’ve ensured everything is in place on their end,” a female voice replied.

“And the city council? Are they still unaware of our true intentions?” The female voice chuckled softly. “Completely. Our leader’s position as the head of the council has them all fooled. They suspect nothing.” “Good. Once the living rust takes hold, our control over the city will be absolute. The Clockwork Guild, the Alchemists’ Guild, and the Spellcaster’s Guild will fall in line soon.” You listened intently, your mind racing. With the three guilds they’d mentioned, it meant that the other two had to be the ones involved, as there were only five guilds in the city. What completely blew your mind was that the leader of the Rust Coalition was the head of the city council. This information was crucial, and you needed more details, but who could you go to with it?

“We need to ensure no one interferes, especially with the rumors that have been circulating the city recently. Have any of the others found her yet?” the male voice continued, sounding both worried and annoyed.

“No, they haven’t found her, but they suspect she’s staying at Kragthor Inn. One of the merchants near there said he saw someone with similar features coming and going often.” the female voice tried to reassure him.

That was about the time your heart began pounding, hearing their words. This was far bigger than you had anticipated. You had to not only find a way to stop them, but now, they were looking for you. Quietly, you began to back away, making sure not to make any noise. You needed to get this information to Zephyr. He was so far the only one you could trust with it. You were also going to need to find a different place to stay, as Kragthor Inn was no longer safe.

It was just after noon when you emerged back into that abandoned building. The area was still eerily quiet, but that was almost reassuring with what you’d overheard. It took you a few moments to calm your racing heart while also calculating a quick path to Zephyr’s workshop with as few people noticing as possible.

On the entire walk there, you felt like everyone was watching you, even if they weren’t, and it was nerve-wracking. Clockwork Plaza was busy as usual when you arrived and made your way to the workshop, quickly going inside and closing the door behind you.

“Good. You’re back. There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Zephyr told you, causing you to look toward the counter where he was standing behind. That’s when you noticed the other person in the workshop, a wolf with all-black fur wearing what looked like formal attire. He gave you a friendly smile, but something about him just felt… off.

“This is Councilor Thorne Albright, the head of the city council,” Zephyr added, and that almost made you freeze where you stood.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss?” Thorne asked, extending his hand.

You hesitated for a moment before shaking it, knowing you couldn’t give him your real name, “Nice to meet you too. I’m Alkestis,” you lied.

Zephyr noticed your unease and your lie, “Is everything alright?” “Actually, I need to speak with you, privately,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Thorne raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. He’d seen you, and that was all he had needed. “Of course. I’ll take my leave. Zephyr, let’s continue our discussion later.” As Thorne left, you quickly turned to Zephyr. “We have a problem. I overheard a conversation in the sewers. Thorne is the leader of the Rust Coalition. They’re planning to spread the living rust into the city within a week.”

Zephyr’s eyes widened in shock. “What? Are you sure? “Positive. They mentioned how he’s fooled the council and how the heads of the Inventors’ Guild and the Healer’s Guild are involved.” You explained quickly as your ears twitched, alert and listening for anyone who might be trying to overhear the conversation from outside. Zephyr paced the room, deep in thought. “This is worse than I imagined. We need to act quickly. We have to inform the remaining guilds. I’ve already gathered all the ingredients for the spell to stop the rust, thanks to what you and Kellen provided. The problem is that Thorne knows about the spell. He’s the head of the council, so I had informed him of the developments.”

That made you sigh, “You’ll have to inform the other guilds and find a way to bluff about having all the spell ingredients because we have another problem. They’re looking for me. One of the merchants told someone in the Rust Coalition they saw me at Kragthor Inn.”

Zephyr stopped pacing and looked at you with concern. “We’ll need to find somewhere to hide you, keep you safe for now. Do you know of Arina? She owns a clothing shop near that inn you’re staying.” When Arina’s name was mentioned, your ears perked up. “Yes. I got some items from her shortly after I arrived.” “Good. Go and gather your things from the inn. Then, go see her. She knows what is going on, so you can trust her with what you’ve told me. I’ll talk to the other guild leaders, then go to the other council members. This will be hard to prove, but it’s the first lead we’ve had in a long time. I also want you to take the spell, and the Luminous feather with you. Keep them hidden until I come for them.” Zephyr explained as he gathered those items and slipped them into a bag, then handed it to you. He also grabbed a cloak and gave that to you as well.

“We’ll stop them, Zephyr,” you attempted to reassure him as you slipped the cloak on, putting the hood up to half cover your features. No one would even be able to see your ears and tail now.

With that, you bid him farewell before he showed you out the back exit so no one would see you leave his workshop. That would give you some time, at least. Thorne had seen you, and you were pretty sure he’d have someone attempt to follow you. Your heart was racing as you made it back to the inn. At least with the cloak, you wouldn’t be as easily recognized.

You packed up your room quickly, as you hadn’t had many things out. You did slip the bag from Zephyr into your main bag just to keep it safer and have less to carry. With your things in hand, you headed downstairs but stopped at the top of the stairs when you heard a male voice asking about you, using your description and the fake name you’d given Thorne. Luckily, that was going to buy you the time you needed.

So, instead of heading out the front of the inn, you went back to your room and then out the window, landing gracefully on your feet. You took the long way around to Arina’s shop, moving cautiously among the people on the streets. It felt like every sense you had was on high alert and like all eyes were on you.

Before slipping into Arina’s shop, you looked through the window, mainly to see if anyone else was inside. When you didn’t see anyone, you slipped in, quietly closing the door behind you and making your way to the counter near the back of her store. She looked at you, puzzled.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, noting the cloak and your bags.

“Arina, there’s so much. Zephyr said you had a place for me to hide,” you told her quickly, deciding that would be the best place to start.

Concern quickly replaced her relaxed expression, “Yes, follow me.”

She led you to the back of the store, then down two flights of stairs. The room wasn’t massive, but there were three doors there. Arina unlocked and opened the middle one, leading you inside before closing it behind you. She took you through several hallways or tunnels, it was hard to tell, before she finally stopped at one of the several doors that the two of you had passed.

“No one knows about this place,” she told you, unlocking the door and showing you inside.

It reminded you of the room at the inn with simple furnishings, only there was no window. You set your bags down on the bed, plopped down next to them, and sighed.

“Alright, what’s going on?” Arina asked, getting comfortable on the floor space between the door and the bed where you sat.

You spent the next almost hour explaining everything to her, including being able to mentally communicate with the creatures. Her expressions were mostly of surprise, except when it came to the part about the head of the council, Thorne. She even covered her mouth as the realization flashed in her eyes. It took her a few minutes to fully process all you’d told her, including the part about the Luminous and what it had told you.

“So, that’s why I needed your help. I don’t know what they’ll do if they find me,” you told her as that sinking feeling began setting in.

Arina’s expression softened, “You’ll be safe here, and I’ll bring you food. Zephyr’s good, and he’ll be able to get the others to listen and do something. You’re really important, even if you aren’t from this world.” She explained to you in an attempt to comfort and reassure you.

She then reached over to the nightstand drawer, opened it, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “This is a map of where you are. If for any reason you need to get out, use it and hide somewhere in the forest,” Arina told you, setting the map on the bed next to you.

“Thanks, Arina. I really appreciate all your help,” you replied, but couldn’t even manage a small smile.

She gave you one last smile before leaving you alone in that room. You didn’t even move anything before lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. It reminded you of the bunker with its lack of windows.

Now what the hell am I supposed to do?

You knew this was far safer than trying to hide out in the city or even in the forest, but it also meant that you couldn’t be out there, helping them. All you could do now was play the waiting game, and that was always a pain. Yes, you had patience, but at the same time, you wanted to be doing something to actively help.

—-------------

Arina kept her word and brought you food, and you studied the map of where you were, memorizing it just in case you needed to make a run for it. Zephyr showed up three days later with the ingredients for the spell. One of the ingredients happened to be a few drops of blood of the one who was given the Luminous feather; you. He explained that it would take some time, but once the spell was done, the other council members would be able to arrest Thorne and the others involved.

“How will the spell let you do that?” you asked him, quite curiously, after all the ingredients had been added to the bowl he was standing in front of.

Zephyr chuckled, “A nifty little trick to this spell is that it marks anyone who was involved with the living rust. The Luminous are protectors of this world, and the magic within their feathers is very potent. You’ll be a hero after all this mess is cleared up.”

You raised your eyebrows in awe and then carefully watched him. You weren’t sure how you felt about being seen as a hero. All you had wanted to do was help so you could get back to your family, even if you had felt bad for what this world was going through. Zephyr spoke the words of the spell, and beautiful colors began dancing around the room. Then, all the colors seemed to be pulled inside the bowl before everything inside it completely vanished.

“Was it supposed to do that?” you asked, completely puzzled.

“Yes. I need to get back to my shop. The city guards have already been informed, and arrests will begin shortly. You won’t have to stay here long. I imagine that in about four days, everyone involved will be arrested, With your information about the sewers, no one will be safe to hide there.” he explained as he cleaned up.

He bid you goodbye before leaving, and you plopped down on the bed as you thought about what he’d said. You still weren’t sure about the whole hero thing. Your thoughts drifted to the brothers, and you wondered just how close your birthday was getting. 

Six months? Five and a half now? 

Calculating time was a little difficult, as you had nothing to write it down on to keep track of it. That was when you decided that when it was safe for you to leave and go back outside, you would get a journal of sorts and start writing down the things you had experienced since turning fifteen. You were also going to get those things you had wanted for the brothers.

Arina visited you daily, bringing food and keeping you updated on what was going on. The first two days, the city was in a sort of chaotic state when the arrests began. So many people were in shock at those involved. The two guilds had to appoint temporary leaders, and at least a third of the guild itself was arrested. There were even two other council members and nearly a dozen guards who got arrested. 

On the morning of the fifth day, you already had your things packed. Arina told you to leave them in her shop, as the council wanted to meet you. You took several deep breaths as she led you out of her shop and into the streets. Everyone was staring, watching you, and you could hear quiet whispers from several of them. You never wanted to be a hero; you only wanted to help so that, in the long run, you could go home.

Arina led you through the city to Clockwork Plaza. There were more people there than you’d seen at any other time, all eager to glimpse the stranger who had saved their world. Yet, they kept their distance, thanks to the guards stationed around the area, ensuring you had a clear path to the council building. It was clear that everyone in the city knew who you were and what you had done.

The building stood behind the library, you’d just never had time to take in its architecture. Now, though, you couldn’t take your eyes off of it. Construction of polished stone, reinforced with bronze and copper, the building’s exterior gleamed under the sunlight. Large, arched windows adorned its facade, each pane intricately designed with patterns resembling the inner workings of a clock. Towering columns flanked the main entrance, their surfaces etched with symbols representing the five guilds of the city: Clockwork, Alchemists, Spellcasters, Inventors, and Healers.

As you ascended the broad steps leading to the entrance, the imposing double doors swung open, revealing a spacious atrium bathed in a golden light. The interior was a blend of grandeur and precision, with high ceilings supported by elegant columns and walls lined with murals depicting the city’s history. The floor was a mosaic of gears and cogs, each piece meticulously placed to form a cohesive whole. The sound of your footsteps echoed softly, adding to the sense of reverence the building commanded.

You could feel the weight of history and power in the air as you moved deeper into the building. Arina led you through a series of hallways, each more ornate than the last. The walls were adorned with tapestries and paintings of past council members and significant events. The scent of aged parchment and polished wood filled your senses, grounding amidst the overwhelming surroundings.

Finally, you reached the council chambers, a grand room with a circular layout. At the center stood a large, round table made of dark mahogany, surrounded by plush chairs upholstered in deep red fabric. The ceiling was a domed masterpiece, painted with a depiction of the city and its guilds. A large crystal chandelier hanging down cast a brilliant array of light colors across the room.

The atmosphere inside the chamber was tense, a palpable mix of gratitude and anxiety. The council members, guild leaders, and other key figures were gathered, their faces a blend of relief and concern. As you took in the scene, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride and responsibility. This was the culmination of your effort, and now, it was time to see it through.

Arina set her hand on your shoulder to reassure you as the two of you moved closer to the table while Zephyr approached you with another council member.

“Y/N, this is Agaza Firemirez, the new council leader,” Zephyr told you with a proud tone.

“Welcome, Y/N,” Agaza greeted you. “We owe you a great debt for uncovering the conspiracy. Thanks to you, the city is safe.” You nodded, trying to keep your composure. “I’m just glad I could help.” Zephyr looked to Agaza, “Y/N has done more than help. She risked her life to bring this information to us. Without her, the living rust would have destroyed our city and possibly our world.”

Agaza nodded. “Indeed. We’ve decided to honor you with the highest award the city can bestow. You will also have a place here, should you choose to stay.”

You knew there was no way you could take his offer, never knowing when the scent would beckon you to move on. “That’s very kind of you, but I must decline. I just never know when I’ll be pulled to another world.”

His eyes softened, “Of course. I wanted to ask, and you have the right to say no, but would you be willing to give us your gift of speaking with the creatures?”

That surprised you, and had no clue it was even possible. “How could I do that?” 

Agaze motioned for the Spellcaster’s guild leader to join the four of you. “This is Elkesh. She is quite adept at what I am asking, and she knows how to share abilities like this with others.” “Then yes, I will give my gift to this world,” you replied, knowing now that with this, they wouldn’t have to hurt the creatures and perhaps even find a way to live with them more peacefully.

Elkesh took out a small, crystal orb, no bigger than a marble, “Hold out your hand.” Your eyes were on the small, clear orb, but did as she asked. Elkesh set the orb in your palm, then spoke some sort of spell in a language you didn’t recognize. At first, a galaxy appeared within the orb before it shifted to an array of colors, glowing slightly.

“Thank you, Y/N. This will be an asset to all the inhabitants of this world,” Elkesh told you in a soft, grateful tone before she went to stand with the other guild leaders.

“Now, time to address your award,” Agaze began, but you held up your hand, and he looked at you, slightly puzzled.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I was curious, what is wrong with the Clock Tower?” you respectfully asked him, as you had still felt that pull to it when you walked by it earlier.

Everyone in the room looked around at everyone else as some of them whispered to each other. Agaze held up his hand to quiet them. “All we know is that something is wrong with it. We’ve had all our best minds investigate it, and to their best abilities, they see no reason why it shouldn’t be working properly. Why do you ask?”

“I feel drawn to it. Somewhere under it, in the sewers. I can’t explain it and it is blocked off from reaching it through the sewers, at least according to the map,” you explained.

He thought for a moment as everyone else watched in anticipation. You’d already done so much and now you were wanting to help them even more. “Ketill,” Agaze stated, addressing a guard on the far side of the room who quickly moved to stand in front of him.

“Sir,” Ketill replied, standing at attention.

“I want you to take Y/N to the entrance of the Clock Tower and then down into the section below it. Be her escort, her guard, and keep her safe. She may be able to see something we have missed,” Agaze explained to him.

“Yes, Sir,” Ketill answered, then stood and waited for you.

“Y/N, when you return, your belongings will be here waiting for you, along with your award. We would like to have you with us when we address the city in a couple of hours and introduce you to them properly. Since you are unable to take us up on our offer of a council seat, we’ll make sure you are set up comfortably for while you are at least in our world.” Agaze explained to you with the most appreciative expression you’d seen on him yet.

It humbled you in a way you hadn’t experienced before, “Thank you, for everything.”

“No, Y/N, thank you,” he replied before he bowed to you, and every other person there followed suit, making you fight back tears.

As Ketill led you out of the council chambers, you felt a mixture of relief that things were mostly taken care of, and hope that you could go back to the brothers soon. You weren’t sure yet if you could do anything about the Clock Tower, but you needed to find out why you kept being drawn toward it. Your mind was elsewhere as Ketill led you down the grand corridors and out into the plaza. The air outside was filled with a mix of curiosity and admiration from the gathered crowd, but you focused on the Clock Tower and Ketill leading you there.

The crowd parted as Ketill led you toward the Clock Tower that stood in the center of the plaza. Colored puffs of smoke sporadically emerged from the pipes at the top, creating a non-rhythmical display. You’d never been this close to it before, and it was far larger than you’d initially realized. The two guards on either side of the door at its base only stood at attention as Kendill opened the door for you. 

Once inside and the door closed behind you, you looked up. A staircase wound its way up and around the walls as gears and all sorts of mechanical pieces seemed frozen in time. You could barely see the light that came in the faces of the clock at the top of the tower, but you did notice how the pipes the smoke was coming from went down the corners of the building and through the floor. There were a dozen of them, three along each corner.

“This way,” Ketill told you, heading toward the left of the door you’d both come through.

You followed him, trying to get a feel for what might be going on, but it was only that pull to go down. Ketill moved a rug, revealing what looked like a trap door, then pulled it open. The creak of the hinges echoed in the tower.

“Watch your step, it’s dark,” he explained as he began descending the stairs.

“I’ll be okay. I can see in the dark,” you replied, noticing a faint but odd odor when you reached the first small landing, making you wrinkle your nose.

Ketill grabbed a lantern that was kept on this platform, waving his hand in front of it before it began illuminating the area. Then, in unison, lanterns lit around the area and down what looked like several more flights of stairs. Here, there were no parts of the Clock Tower, only the pipes that continued to descend the corners. 

You followed Ketill down. That odd odor didn’t seem to get any stronger, and it smelled as though it was everywhere. “How did the clock work, before it went down?” you finally asked Ketill, as you hadn’t exactly found the information you needed when you had researched it.

“When it was working, the pipes would let out smoke every quarter hour that ticked by, one pipe at a time. Then, every hour, depending on the hour, that set of three pipes would let out smoke. When noon came, all the pipes would let out smoke. It let everyone outside the city know the time,” he explained as he continued walking.

That’s why I’m drawn down here. Something is wrong with the pipes.

At the bottom, the chamber opened up a little and became more like a dome while the pipes wound around it and along the floor to a center point. Carved on the walls were intricate runes and glyphs with pictures that told a story of the Clock Tower's history. You moved past Ketill, toward the center of the room, that odor getting a little stronger there.

“They didn’t find anything here?” you asked curiously, gently sniffing the air.

“Nothing. They don’t know what’s wrong or why it won’t work,” Ketill sighed, just watching you and giving you space.

There was a lantern over where the pipes all went deeper into the ground in the center of the room. You knelt on the pipes, looking down at them, tilting your head, and studying the pipes themselves.

“Ketill, can you turn off the lights?” you asked him, still completely focused on the pipes.

Without a word, he waved his hand over the lantern he was holding, and darkness filled the room. It took a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the sudden change. Then, you thought you saw something, a tiny, almost invisible puff of smoke from one of the pipes. The silence of the room didn’t bother you, and you didn’t take your eyes off the pipes. Then, it happened again.

Instinctively, you reached your hand down and touched the pipe, feeling the faintest of cracks in it, like a tiny fracture on a bone that was almost undetectable unless you knew what to look for. 

“Now heal it.” A familiar voice within your mind told you. You almost chuckled as you smiled a little. 

The Luminous were the protectors of the world. Of course, they’d know what was wrong.

You shook your head slightly in amusement, setting your hand on the tiny crack and closing your eyes. The surface of the metal was cold under your palm as a soft golden light shown below your hand. In your mind, you saw the Luminous, and the leader bowed to you again as the light dimmed, then dissipated. 

Ketill stood there, watching in awe as the Clock Tower came to life above. You smiled softly, bowed your head, then opened your eyes and stood to face Ketill.

“How?” was all he could manage to say.

“I’ll explain when we go back to the council,” you replied, feeling a sense of accomplishment but also a strange peace that seemed to go through your body in gentle waves.

After lighting the lantern again, he led you up and then out of the Clock Tower. Once outside, though, the entire plaza erupted with cheers and whistles, and most were clapping. You had to take a deep breath as it had startled you. He led you back to the council chambers, the crowd never seeming to calm, even as you entered the building. 

Again, the entire room bowed to you, their way of expressing their utter gratitude for your help. You explained what had happened and what you found, all of them making a mental note of it for any possible future occurrence. Agaze gave you a beautiful pendant that held a crystal, like the veins you’d seen on your first day in that cave. Then, he and the others led you out to the plaza, where he gave a long speech, with the crowd again erupting in cheers.

It was a lot for you to take in and, in a way, fairly overwhelming. Ketill, with two other guards, showed you to the new inn you’d be staying in. The inn was grand, situated in the expensive part of the town, near the plaza by only a couple of blocks. The building itself was a magnificent structure with elegant stonework and tall, arched windows. The innkeeper, a stately anthropomorphic fox with a luxurious coat of reddish fur and eyes that seemed to sparkle with both wisdom and mischief, greeted you warmly.

“Welcome, Y/N,” the innkeeper said, his voice smooth and courteous. “I am Fenwick, the keeper of this humble establishment. It is an honor to have you here.”

He treated you like a celebrity, which made you blush a little. There were far more employees working here than at the last inn you’d stayed in. They bustled around in crips uniforms, attending to guests with practiced efficiency. One of them, a young female fox with bright eyes and a friendly smile, took your bags and led you to your new room.

Your new room was just as lavish as the rest of the inn. The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted by the scent of fresh flowers and a hint of sandalwood. The room was spacious, with high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings. Rich tapestries hung on the walls, depicting scenes of lush landscapes and mythical creatures. A large window with velvet drapes offered a stunning view of the city plaza below.

The bed was a grand four-poster with silken sheets and a plush comforter that looked incredibly inviting. A writing desk made of polished mahogany stood in one corner, accompanied by a comfortable chair. A small sitting area with a plush sofa and armchairs was arranged near a fireplace, above which hung a large, ornate mirror.

You tucked your new pendant into your pouch and took a moment to appreciate the comfort and luxury of your new surroundings. The soft light from the chandelier cast a warm glow over the room, making it feel like a safe haven after all you’d been through. Your bags were set on the floor at the foot of the bed. Part of you felt like this was all too much, but at the same time, you appreciated the city’s generosity.

It took you nearly a week to get used to being in such a luxurious inn. Three meals were brought to your room every day, as was a dessert with dinner. You did go and purchase a beautiful yet simple journal to write down your travels in and worked on it during the days when you didn’t venture into the city. You also picked up two books. One of them was a history of the city, and the Clock Tower, and the other was a history of the world itself. Those were for Sam, as you remembered how much he loved history. For Dean, you found a beautifully hand-crafted boot knife that had a silver blade. 

You never unpacked your things. You hoped that the scent would come pull you back to the brothers, to home, and you wanted to be ready. So, you just kept all your things neatly packed away, waiting, even if you did get into them when you needed to. Several of the people in the city wanted to give you gifts, and there were a few days you would find something placed in front of your door. You thought it was sweet, so you just tucked the items away in your things. Some of them even had notes, telling you what the item either did or why they had given it to you. One of your favorite items was a strange gear from a young boy. The note he’d left said he had found it on one of his adventures, and he wanted you to have it to remind you of your adventure in their world. The brothers were always on your mind, even when you were around others, more so when you were alone. You had picked up a second journal that you wrote to them in. It was the only way you had found that eased the pain of missing them as the days ticked slowly by. You didn’t mind being in this world; it was amazing, and everyone was friendly. You were just lonely, and their scents had long faded from the clothes they’d given you.

I’ll find a way home, I promise.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 22 - Earth, 1999 & Mechoria

Link to the series Masterlist.

A/N: If you'd like to get in on the Dimensional Traveling, go to this link and leave me with a comment, or several, with as much or as little detail about the dimension you'd like the Traveler to end up in. If you'd like to have something specific happen, share that too. I'll make sure that you get credit for the idea you shared in the chapter in which your dimension is featured. I'd love to have as many readers involved as possible. I think this could be a lot of fun.

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list. If I missed anyone, please let me know.

Tag List: @littlemadamred @mxltifxnd0m @foxyjwls007 @supernaturalfreakout @roseblue373

@flamencodiva @reignsboy19 @stillhere197 @hobby27 @megs-gadom

[physalian]

Can I complain about modern fantasy book titles and covers for a second?

I don’t like these books anyway. Why doesn’t matter, they have their audience and I’m not part of it. But eight whole books, and I read seven of them (not Assassin’s Blade) a few years ago now, and I could not tell you in what order they should be read if someone handed me a blind pile, or even what cover belongs to each book because they’re so painfully generic (and missing numbers on their spines).

Nor could I tell by the titles which are also painfully generic. Yeah they read like fantasy titles but there’s nothing distinct about them, they’re just fantasy buzzwords and they’re so vague that even Tower of Dawn leaves me vaguely recalling that kingdom with the giant birds, I think? Heir of Fire might be the romantic side quest that lasts an entire book, but that’s based more on my memory of the order of events than the title or cover would suggest.

Blank of X and Y she used for ACOTAR (which I did not read and know nothing about so I skipped them) is just so boring to me if the Mad Lib is nothing special. “Heir of Fire” could be a Game of Thrones fanfic for how unique and evocative the title is. A Court of Thorns and Roses literally stole the cadence of A Song of Ice and Fire but guess what?? Those aren't just nonsense words. Ice and Fire and how they're related are hugely thematic and relavent elements in those books. "Thorns and Roses" just ripped off a Poison song.

I assume these were the original covers since they’re not so manicured and actually have character. The titles are the same but the colors are so much bolder and the imagery isn’t a greyscale girl for 7 out of 8 titles. They’re distinct and memorable and while they’re still not evocative of the actual story, if I was a bigger fan of the books I’d probably have stronger associations. They do try. I have fuzzy memories coming back of EOS having the cool pirate with the map hands, KOA being the climactic battle book, QOS... might be the boring side quest with the dragons. This does not look like assembly line popcorn fantasy. This looks like it has heart, and an air of mystery. They draw you in and have you asking questions, they have you wanting to know more.

These books are, in my opinion, superior in many ways to anything SJM has written, but the covers? The exact same problem on steroids. And I only read four of them, there’s six total apparently. King’s Cage is the best title of the bunch. I know immediately from the title “that’s the one where the protagonist spent the whole book as a political prisoner in, you know, the king’s cage”.

But the covers, though they all share the same aesthetic and would look pretty on the book shelf, are absolutely devoid of any and all context within the book, save King's Cage. They’re all feminine crowns and tiaras, too. They could have at least given a man’s crown or at least something with harsher angles and thicker lines to evoke, idk, maybe the titular character the third book is about? It helps that the series (at one point) was only four books so it was less titles and ambiguous covers to juggle, but now there’s six so I guess that’s out the window.

Pretty, but purely window dressing. The best thing they have going for them is how distinctly minimalist they are that sets them apart from other fantasy.

I have incredibly mixed feelings about these books but the colors. Very much carrying on the PJO tradition of titles that actually fit the books and art to go along with it. There’s so much drama and movement to each one and they are, once again, scenes from each book, so many little details to look at. Festus was a huge part of TLH, then Percy's back in action, front and center in SON, then... uh, MOA... then Percy and Annabeth looking scared shitless in HOH and then... uh, BOO. Exists.

They all draw you in and I very much remember the cover drop for House of Hades and losing my mind over it. Much more face-focused than the reserved originals, much bolder, but still, mostly, Percy Jackson.

I looked this up on google images and couldn’t even read the titles there tiny at the bottom. The exact same color scheme for every single book. This is for the box set, I know that, so the spines all make one image when you line them up, but the spine doesn’t have to be the same image as the front cover.

That said, the cover images are still distinct and still hold true to the originals—showing actual elements from the books, like Blackjack and Polyphemus and the Labyrinth. Updated but a bit too sleek for my tastes (maybe that’s just nostalgia talking). The titles though, love the titles. At least they kept the series number on the covers (unlike TOG or RQ).

Now this. This here. These have everything. Bold, distinct colors on the spines, beautiful unique and very fantastical art, art that actually pertains to the book it’s about with an air of mystery every single time. You want to ask why there’s a kid floating in Long Island Sound, who that giant eye belongs to, who has that pegasus so frightened, what’s in the golden coffin, and… well the last one is just noire and I like it.

The titles, though. The. Titles. “Sea of Monsters” cannot in any way match up with the plot of the rest of the series. These covers are perfection.

Now I did not read these books, just saw the movies. These covers are dated, but there still wonderfully, charmingly whimsical, for an entire series about wizards and witches. The colors are distinct, the font choices reflect the vibes of each book, the art depicts the stories within the pages—Harry joining the Quidditch team, Fawkes coming to the rescue, Buckbeak, the mermaid egg thing and the other competitors in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the (I think?) prophecy room/Ministry of Magic, the Remembrall (I think??), and, you know, the last one is cool too. The style of the drawings are rather unique to Harry Potter. Harry also visibly ages across each one.

The titles themselves, like PJO (while predating PJO so setting the trend I’m aware) cannot be separated from their books. Order of the Phoenix? That’s the book about the Order of the Phoenix. Deathly Hallows is about, shocker, the Deathly Hallows.

Putting Twilight here at the bottom. I like these despite them being minimalist because, unlike every other cover on this list, they’re minimalist fantasy. Barely urban fantasy. The red and white motifs are evocative of the romance genre and vampire fiction and at least the covers of Twilight and Breaking Dawn do reference scenes in their books, with Edward catching the apple in the cafeteria and them playing chess on their honeymoon.

They also speak to a more adult, mature audience with the sleeker look. These are romance novels with vampires, *not* fantasy novels with romance. You see any of those covers among other adult romance in a bookstore and they’re going to catch your eye. The titles… eh. Not so much. Nothing to do with the story they just sounded pretty and evocative but this is romance, not fantasy, they’re supposed to be sensual and evocative and “Bella Swan and The Broody Vampire Boy” would not at all fit that vibe.

—

It’s not like these modern fantasy novels are devoid of creative terminology. I don’t like SJM at all but her books did have some really creative and wonderful moments in isolation. It’s like the publishers were afraid to be authentic and sincerely fantastical, so they went with something safe and clean and uninspired both in title and in art.

“Throne of Glass” means nothing to me and could be applicable to like, four of the books in that series. If I squint I can see it as a metaphor for the fragile state of the ruling house but there is quite literally glass everywhere so maybe it’s just one cool element—that should have then been on the cover—but like, the whole book is about the Assassin’s trial, right? So call it The Assassin’s Trial or Tournament of Assassins. You know. The plot of the book, not just one random ass element in the background.

Be authentically fantastical, or don't write fantasy.

[kinniie00]

HEY BUDDY :D !!! lion, maine coon, american shorthair, tiger, cougar, and fishing cat !!

HIIII!!! 👾

This is so many omg

Lion - I'm probably most proud of how far I've come over the last few years, I went through a lot and am still learning to live with some of it. It's definitely shaped a bit of who I am now, but I'd like to think I have grown from it and carried it with me rather than living in that dump forever :) AND MY FRIENDS IM SO SO SO PROUD OF THEM AND HOW MUCH THEY'VE DONE AND I WISH THE BEST FOR ALL OF YOU :((

Maine Coon - Honestly I'm not too sure how others would describe me, or even how to encapsulate my personality into one word--I'd like to say I'm energetic but I also have my moments of not being as much, I'm nice but I know I can be a bitch, I'm a lot of things but I'm really unsure of what word could describe me, plus I don't remember any good descriptive words rn :') (I'm so tired)

American Shorthair - I have many things that comfort me, id say my friends are my biggest comfort, as cheesy as it is. My friends remind me I'm not alone and have reasons to keep going, even when it feels impossible. I also often tend to latch onto games and streamers/YouTubers for comfort (a big one is hermitcraft!! :D), many of the people I watch now are people who practically raised me and I love them dearly. Another few smaller things that I find help comfort me are things like music, tea, or small things like animals (my cat!!!) or stuffed animals :3

Tiger - Another one that I'm not entirely sure how to answer :( "Being cute and being mine" -☀️ I think I went through the 5 stages of grief trying to come up with something that's all you're getting, oh yeah and my worst is probably the fact that I'm indecisive or like impulsive idk

Cougar - Hehehe fandoms 😇 Definitely undertale, fnaf, and sanders sides in the later years. I was (unfortunately) an aphmau kid back in 2015 but that was more watching her content and less fandom stuff. The undertale and fnaf ones definitely didn't ever stop, I got really into sans aus back during covid and relied on all three of those fandoms for comfort during the quarantine too. Sanders sides definitely helped me over the years before and during covid, it was definitely a rough time in my life as I was learning new things about myself and others around me, and it helped me so much with learning how to be me and accept myself as I am. As for a fandom I'm really active in now, id say the one I'm most active in is Hermitcraft (so surprising!!! 🙀) I got super into it back in season 6 when grian joined because I watched his content before he joined, and now I watch most of the hermits, I do tend to focus on a few each season while watching the occasional stream/video from the others though! I also listen to the imp & skizz podcast, and I find it rather comforting when I'm stressed, I love the hermits so much and they've definitely helped me so much without even knowing :) (and the fandom is so silly I love everyone)

Fishing Cat - I have so many I'm definitely going to forget some, I love learning new things and it's led to many hobbies that I do and will probably get back into in the future! :) I do crochet, it's something I have been learning since I was really young but couldn't get the hang of it for the longest time because my mom had a hard time teaching me it since she's left handed, I love reading, I read all kinds of things from old novels & poetry, romance and mystery, to nonfiction and sci-fi, I enjoy reading anything as long as it can keep my interest, and I loveee getting reccomended books (even though my to-be-read list is SO long), I like small crafts like jewelry making but it hurts my hands (especially the more intricate ones like fancy necklaces, bracelets, earrings), i love gaming, its a big part of who I am seeing as I grew up doing it, and even though i dont it as much anymore I still enjoy it and love playing games with my friends!! I enjoy drawing, but it's stressful because I'm not great at it and am way too perfectionistic over it. I used to paint but I never got too good at it and never had proper supplies, it was very fun though and I'd definitely get back into it sometime down the line. I listen to a lot of music, and watch youtubers/streamers. I like to go on walks, but with some of my health issues I don't go on them as often (I definitely will do more this summer though!!) and hanging out with my friends and animals. I plan on getting into sewing and possibly cosplay sometime so that will be fun to learn! I love creative hobbies, despite how stressful they can be when they don't go how I wanted it to :) I love seeing things I'm able to make evolve and get better and I get better at doing it, and I love consuming information and seeing people be people!!

I'm so sorry this is a lot of yapping even for me 😭