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anabsolutefreak · 5 months

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Chapter 19: Songs of the Underdark

This is a canon adjacent full campaign based story involving my original TAV character, the full BG3 crew and, of course, our favorite undead high elf. I created this story to help me get through an exceptionally difficult time in my life and so, you might notice Tav's story is a little more atypical than some. Be advised that the story I have created has some mature themes including violence, kink, mental health and self harm. I will be placing warnings on each individual chapter when any of these themes are included so please be aware. I hope you enjoy. Summary: Embrae and her friends journey into the Underdark and meet the Myconids. Astarion tries to find something worthwhile to hunt in the new, dangerous environment. When he returns, he learns a little more about the odd half-elf. Embrae admits that she would like to be something more than friends with benefits but is the elf even capable of that kind of relationship? MATURE CONTENT: References to trauma. Attempted sexual assault.

Whenever Embrae had imagined the Underdark, she had thought of a dank, dark cave, full of stalactites and stalagmites, and of bats hiding on the ceiling waiting to swoop down upon unwary adventurers. The Underdark, as it turned out, defied all her expectations. Firstly it wasn’t, well, all that dark… Every surface of the subterranean caverns seemed to glow with internal lights of all colors: solemn blue, misty white, poison green, and even hot pink. And the size of it was awe-inspiring. Standing atop the gate of the temple where they had first found themselves, she could see strange, glowing mushrooms, the infrastructure of what she thought might be a settlement or a village, a lake, and even mountains in the distance. Mountains underground, she thought. As they explored, she also noticed chasms that dropped farther still and she shuddered. Just how far down could it go? Embrae realized that she could barely see the ceiling in places; it was so far above them, that she could see only darkness, interrupted here and there by massive spikes or soft iridescent glowing fungi. How far down were they? She looked down and saw a river trickling down and even farther into the darkness of a chasm and shivered. How far down does it go?

The music here is otherworldly. Unlike the surface, the subtle music she often heard was not so easily pushed to the background. It was a dissonant, whisper, a melody, a perfect harmony, and a funeral dirge, all at once, and yet, she couldn’t hope to compare it to any of those things. It was beautiful, haunting, and awful. She wanted it to stop and yet, she also wanted to lay still on the cold floor and drink it in.

“You know, all my years as a creature of the night,” said Astarion conversationally, “and I’ve never once ventured into the Underdark… it's not exactly a luxurious setting but it definitely has its upsides for a vampire… still, I do miss the sun already.”

“You’ve only just come to tolerate the sun and you’re already reminiscing?” snapped Lae’zel.

“Nature’s beauty shines even deep beneath the surface,” rumbled Halsin. “But we must be wary. All manner of hungry creatures wait for us here.”

“I think it’s beautiful,” breathed Shadowheart. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Lady Shar guide me.”

Embrae pointed at the miniatures running headlong towards the gate where they still stood. “Halsin, are those by chance some of the hungry creatures you mentioned?” Even from where they were, Embrae could hear the ground rumble as they approached, calling out in a guttural shriek as they charged the gate… only to be felled immediately when a wicked beam of pale blue light shot from one of the many tall pillars surrounding the temple. Looking closer, she noticed that corpses of other minitaurs lined the path towards the gate… “I guess they’re not very bright…”

“Alas, some of nature's creatures have much in the way of hunger, and little in the way of brains,” the large druid sighed.

“Well, I say, that’s at least one problem solved for us,” chimed in Gale. “But perhaps were should find a erm, less direct path, lest we join them.”

“There’s a ledge leading down that direction,” said Wyll, pointing to their left. We’ll have to be careful, but it should keep us out of the path of those beams.”

Embrae squinted. Even with her dark vision, she had trouble spotting the ledge the human pointed out. She looked thoughtfully at the one-eyes human.“Impressive eyesight Wyll.”

“Yeah, one of the few benefits of being dragged through all of the fires of Avernus… My last eye seems to work better than ever."

They were quiet as they eased their way down to the ledge towards the path below. The anxiety rippled through her and her companions was palpable, thought Embrae. Again, she wondered if they had made the right choice. How easy it would be to get lost down here!

A voice stopped them all in their tracks as they finally reached level ground. We are here. Others are coming, always coming.

“Please tell me you all heard that,” groaned Embrae. The music was becoming almost unbearable. She rubbed a palm to her forehead.

“Oh yeah, we heard it.” Karlach cracked her knuckles nervously. “Halsin you sure about this Myconid Colony?”

“Hmm. They are our best option for gaining directions. It is their domain after all. They aren’t known to be aggressive… but that doesn’t mean they're safe, either. We could also seek help from the Duergar, however, they aren’t renowned for being friendly towards outsiders.

“Hmph,” scoffed Astarion. “That’s an understatement. As I hear it, subterranean dwarves are even less friendly than my unpredictable cousins, the drow.”

“I’ve heard the same,” said Shadowheart. “Go to them and we might end up with our heads on a pike.”

“And that would be a pity,” said Astarion. “My head looks rather better attached to the rest of me.”

Embrae sighed. She and Astarion had been ignoring each other for the better part of the day. In fact, the elf had been remarkably silent— now, it seemed nerves had gotten the better of him. She shot a brief glance his way and immediately regretted it. The subtle lights of the Underdark played across his pale skin, accentuating the angles of his cheekbones and heightening his already otherworldly beauty. His mouth was slightly open as he thought and his fangs seemed almost longer— sharper. Here, he looked as much like a creature of the night as she’d ever seen him. Her stomach turned and her heart did a little flip as she looked away. “Let’s go find the Myconids.”

***

They continued down the path and found the bodies of Dreugar as well as the strange twisting shapes of what must have been the Myconids they sought, scattered about the path. “Clearly, they’re not overly fond of one another,” she muttered.

The path split ahead. To the left, it led further down, towards the abandoned-looking village she had noted earlier. The other led straight towards a cluster of green mushrooms and beyond that an overlapping mass of shelf fungi that seemed to form something like a structure that seemed to exude a warm, comforting light. “Blibberbang,” observed Halsin. “Don’t get too close or they’ll— well— go bang.”

“At a guess, I’d say the mushroom people are living over there,” said Embrae pointing past the blibberbang field.

They made their way around the blibberbangs and, as they did, Embrae became sure that they were headed the right way. The music wasn’t just loud now, it was overwhelming. Her senses were so filled with it, that she could scarcely concentrate. And she could see— images, strange, barely humanoid shapes that jutted and curved in uncanny ways, their hands overstretched over the corpses of a small woman— a gnome, she realized. They were the source of the singing, she was sure of it. Surely the others could hear this! She looked over towards her companions but besides the mild worry covering all of their faces, they seemed normal. Gale caught her gaze and gave her a look of concern.

“Are you alright, Embrae? You look— unwell.”

“I’m fine—” she wasn’t but she didn’t want to talk about it. Gale frowned. Behind him. Astarion raised an eyebrow.

They approached the shelf fungi. Now that they were nearer, she realized that they formed a sort of staircase. And at the top of the staircase, a tall myconid that seemed to radiate every color of the Underdark stared down at them. They are here, as foretold. A deep voice in her head said. It extended an arm towards her and her head felt as though it might burst with the mournful music pounding inside her skull. She saw a vision then, of the myconid creatures weaving their fungal spores over her corpse. Was it threatening her? She shivered. She focused on the song, trying to understand its meaning. It was them, their way of communicating— and it spoke so loudly— of loss. She opened her eyes. They had suffered a recent tragedy, she realized, and they were afraid.

“Something terrible has happened here, hasn’t it?”The Myconid, the Sovereign she realized, hummed in response, considering her with an eyeless gaze.

“We seek shelter and knowledge of the paths through the Underdark. I promise we don’t mean you any harm. But perhaps we can help,”

The song changed, becoming lighter, almost hopeful as he stared at her. “Follow then, and be welcome, distant kin.” he sang.

***

Embrae's normally olive-toned skin looked pale, nearly gray and she’d had a perpetual grimace on her face since that had only deepened as they made their way further into the Underdark. I am not worrying about that. He scolded himself.

“So, you want us to murder a group of Druegar for you?” asked Embrae skeptically.”

“It’s a touch genocidal as these things go but I’m game,” quipped Astarion.

She shot him a look that might’ve killed him were he not already dead. Still angry, he realized. Well, to hells with her.

the Myconid leader seemed to sigh in response. They butchered my people and killed our young. The rot must be cleansed… and you shall be rewarded.

“Why did they attack you?” Asked Embrae.

We harbor a fugitive. A deep gnome. They search for her. He gestured towards the writhing form of a gnome woman.

Embrae frowned and kneeled next to the woman. “What’s happened to you?” She asked.

“Poisoned—” she gasped. “Drow—-”

Well, ***

Embrae’s normally olive-toned face looked pale, nearly gray and she’d had a perpetual grimace on her face since that had only deepened as they made their way further into the Underdark. I am not worrying about that. He scolded himself.

“So, you want us to murder a group of Druegar for you?” asked Embrae skeptically.”

“It’s a touch genocidal as these things go but I’m game,” quipped Astarion.

She shot him a look that might’ve killed him were he not already dead. Still angry, he realized. Well, to hells with her.

the Myconid leader seemed to sigh in response. They butchered my people and killed our young. The rot must be cleansed… and you shall be rewarded.

“Why did they attack you?” Asked Embrae.

We harbor a fugitive. A deep gnome. They search for her. He gestured towards the writhing form of a gnome woman.

Embrae frowned and kneeled next to the woman. “What’s happened to you?” She asked.

“Poisoned—” she gasped. “Drow—-”

Well, the Drow did love their poisons, thought Astarion… something he’d always admired about his dark cousins.

The Drow leads the attack— we would have his head. The myconids eery voice sang.

An image of a sour-faced drow with straight white hair flashed into Astarion’s head and Embrae’s grimace deepened. Astarion had heard the myconids singing when they spoke to them, that strange, mournful song, but she seemed to be much more affected by it than the rest of the party. he thought about what she had said in the woods when she was still talking to him. She could hear music everywhere, she had said. Perhaps this was a tad overwhelming to the strange half-elf. Not that he cared, he reminded himself again.

“Shadowheart,” she said nodding towards the small woman.

The cleric kneeled beside the woman and held her hands over her. They glowed with restorative light and the gnome gasped, color returning to her small face. “The pain—” she said, “it’s gone.”

The Myconids seemed to hum in appreciation as they watched the small woman stand.

“I’m Thulla,” said the woman. “You have my thanks. But he is right. The Druegar are a blight. They’ve taken my family, my friends as slaves at the Grymforge… Them and that damned drow, Nere.” She spat his name and Astarion’s skin prickled uncomfortably. he was familiar with that venom.

Embrae scowled in disgust. “The Druegar keep slaves?” She asked. Oh, darling, he wanted to tell her. Slaves are a time-honored custom here in the Underdark. Besides, they are only gnomes. Still, he kept his eyes away from the small woman. The look in her eye and the whole situation was making him feel uncomfortable.

“Bloody slavers,” growled Karlach, echoing his own thoughts. “Underdark’s full of them. Still, I don’t know how I feel about murdering the Druegar in cold blood— or as close to that as I get.”

“You’re seeking passage through the Underdark,” said Thulla. “No one knows it better than the deep gnomes— but you won’t make it to the Grymforge without a fight. The only way there is with one of their boats and they’ll kill you before they let you use them.”

Emrbrae sighed. “We need to rest and eat. It was a long climb down… thank you, for your hospitality. We will set up camp nearby. My companions and I need to think about your requests.” She looked earnestly at Tulla. “I want to help you,” she said. “But odds are even if I provoke a fight with your slavers, a lot of you are going to end up dead. Are you ready for that kind of fight?”

Tulla nodded, grimly. “We’re better off dead than enslaved to those vile beasts.

***

Hunting alone seemed a more dangerous prospect in the Underdark, however, several days without blood and even longer without the blood of a thinking creature had rendered the familiar ache in Astarion’s stomach almost agonizing. He had been so used to feeding regularly, he realized, that he found it more difficult to go without.

Stalking out of the camp quietly, so as not to wake the others, he waited until he could no longer hear the beating hearts of his companions before beginning the hunt. The vampire tried to let his body tune to the uncanny vast darkness before him; he opened his senses to the sounds and scents, giving himself over to instinct. Unfamiliar whispers and movements in the dark came from everywhere. He had known the Underdark to be full of dangerous, predatory things; but he had never considered that it might be positively teeming with life. Of course, it was difficult to say whether his intended prey might end up tearing him to shreds instead of granting him a meal.

At one point, Astarion paused when the ground beneath him quite literally trembled and quaked. He stood completely still, unbreathing. He wasn’t the only predator in search of sustenance tonight. He’d read stories of the Bulette, a subterranean beast that burrowed in the very floor beneath in search of unwary prey. That, he didn’t want to tangle with. If he didn’t move, it would hopefully move on. Eventually, the quaking passed and he continued his hunt.

Several minutes later, he heard a low growl ahead of him. Gleaming yellow eyes stared at him from the darkness, assessing him. The creature was about as large as a bear, and in fact, it might have been a sort of bear; it stood on all fours and had thick fur that appeared greyish to him in the dim light. He crouched and the creature snarled. He should perhaps search for something more— bite-sized, thought the vampire. However, even as he thought it, his mind turned to Embrae and her sweet neck and his stomach clenched in wanton pain. No, he needed to eat, and soon. The strange animal began to back away from him. Despite their relative size, it seemed the thing had decided he was a danger… and it was correct. He leaped across the space between and followed the hunger, right to where he hoped the beast's throat was.

***

He stumbled back to camp, bruised and scratched in several places, but giddy. The beast, whatever it had been, now lay drained and lifeless in the dark, and he was positively awash with the warmth of its blood. The fullness in his stomach and the coursing of blood in his undead veins made him feel almost drunk. Of course, it was nothing compared to her he mourned… but at least he wouldn’t accidentally drink anyone in their sleep tonight.

He wasn’t ready to trance, so he sat near the low fire, looking at its smoldering embers and letting his blood-dazed mind wander. His eyes wandered to Embrae. The half-elf lay in her bedroll across from him, tossing and turning, her lovely face twisted in what might have been pain.

They hadn’t spoken really since the night before after they had had sex. Her face full of concern hurt, and eventually fury appeared over and over again in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to banish it. He knew he had hurt her and, try as he might, he couldn’t stand it. He didn’t even know what had happened, he thought hazily. It had been fine, he thought— more than fine, at first, actually, he admitted to himself. He had enjoyed it. Usually engaged in intimate acts with his targets, he felt nothing but numb and detached. He’d had to. After all, he’d had a thousand lovers but none of them were truly his, only his master’s. But with her, he couldn’t help but feel, something. No that wasn’t right— he felt too many things. Emotions and sensations he had not thought himself capable of experiencing raced through him as he held her, as he moved inside her and each fought for dominion in his dead heart. But foremost amongst them when they were done had been disgust and fear. He could feel them, all of their hands over the last two hundred years clawing at him, yearning for him, accusing him as they bit, fucked, and dragged him back into the darkness. And when she’d tried to touch him— He put his head in his hands. What the hells was he doing? he wondered.

Even now as he watched her, he wanted to touch her— to hold her and yet the very thought of doing so made him freeze with abject terror. This game he had been playing, for she was right— he had been playing with her, had fallen apart somewhere along the way. It was real, he realized. But he wasn’t capable of real… Was he?

Embrae’s cry jerked him out of his thought, a low, drawn-out wail, that made his freshly-won blood run cold. Should he wake her? He made his way over to her, quiet, careful, much like the night he had tried and failed to feed on her without her knowledge.

“Please stop,” she whispered in her sleep. She turned onto her side and curled into a defensive ball.

He reached out a hand but hesitated, unsure. Then, without warning, his tadpole convulsed and he was in a familiar alleyway, pressed up against a wall by a tall, dark-haired man with reeking breath.

“Please stop,” whimpered Embrae.

“Come on little songbird,” chortled the man drunkenly. “Don’t be that way. I know what you want— a woman don’t spend all night teasing and singing in a place like that unless she’s looking for company.” He bent down and tried to kiss her. As his wet lips pressed against hers, she hit him hard. The man yelled out in surprise, pain, and anger and slapped her across the face, knocking her to the dirty stones beneath. “You little bitch,” he said. He got down onto the ground and climbed on top of her, pinning her against the ground. She couldn’t breathe, could hardly move as he began to tear at her clothing. Fear lanced through her as the man laughed, and then rage turned her vision red. She found the dagger in her boot and managed to plunge it into his side. She felt the warm blood flowing over her, turning cool as he rolled off her, cursing and spitting profanities at her as he pressed his hand to his bleeding side. She stood over him. The wound wasn’t fatal, but she could fix that. “You want to hear me sing, you bastard?” Her voice was soft now, melodic. The dream pulsed and faded then came back into clarity. When it did, the man lay on his side alive but still, looking ahead sightlessly as the blood from his wound pooled beside him. Embrae turned and ran. The music was too much. Sounds from the Underdark, the music of the myconids tore through her brain, consuming her.

Astarion found himself kneeling next to her as the tadpole finally stilled. Embrae was still asleep but it clearly wasn’t over for her. Tears streamed down her face and her limbs fought against the confines of her bedroll. Decided, he reached out and shook her. “Embrae,” he said her name softly and prepared to jump backward just in case the dream traveled with her. “Wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open, darting around in confusion before they rested on his face. “Astarion. God, I’m sorry, it’s the fucking noise down here. It’s like it’s amplifying my nightmares.” Her chin quivered and she took a deep breath as though gathering herself. “Did I wake you?” She asked it calmly, as though this was just one of many such nightmares, and yet he saw tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. He resisted the ridiculous urge to reach out to her and sat back leaning against his hands.

“No, I was awake. I erm—” He paused. Should he tell her what she saw? Perhaps she would see it as a huge breach of privacy, accidental though it was.

She sat up and realization dawned in her hazel eyes as they locked onto his. “Oh— I see. I thought I felt less— alone.”

“It was completely involuntary. I promise.” He looked away. He didn’t want her to be angry at him— well angrier. Gods damn it! He wished he didn’t care as much as he did.

To her surprise, however, the half-elf snorted and a wry humor spread across her face. “I’m getting used to a certain lack of privacy in our little gang of freaks. I know I’ve had to make several concentrated efforts to avoid being pulled into your head.”

“Have you now?”

“Yes…” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “You know, I think it’s more so for us than the others. I had wondered— how common is it for a vampire or a spawn to feed regularly off of one person?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. To my knowledge, it’s virtually unheard of. Vampires tend to either kill or turn you whilst spawn can only feed on what their master deems appropriate.” He shook his head to dislodge the image of a stinking rat. “Are you saying you think it’s created a link between us?”

“I’m not saying anything, really. It was only idle speculation.” As she said it, sadness and worry crept back into her expression.

They sat silently, awkwardly. Unspoken tensions from the other night and still more unsayable truths hovered between them, leaving an uncomfortable charge in the air around them.

“So,” said Astarion, conversationally. “Why do you so avoid my head then? Afraid of what you might find?”

“Well, it’s true, I have nightmares enough of my own without 200 years worth of yours invading.” She chuckled grimly. “But really, I dislike invading someone else's mind.”

“Your dream,” he said as the realization hit him. She had possessed some sort of psychic ability long before the tadpoles, something her captor had forced her to use to their benefit. He felt a wave of pity. Well, they were more alike than he realized, it seemed.

“Yes,” she admitted. “Lithishim, my boss— for lack of a better word—- liked to make deals, much like Raphael… She used me to make her targets more— pliable, I suppose. Generally, I could use music, singing, to that end— I would enter their minds subtly, determine what it is they wanted, and tailor a song just for them. When they were at their most vulnerable, Lithishim would swoop in and close on whatever deal it was.”

“Is Lithishim a Devil, then?” He asked.

I call her a devil. I thought, based on what little I knew that that’s what she was. But the more I learn about them, the more I don’t think that’s right… She’s cunning, to be sure but a bit too— chaotic, too impulsive… And she seems pretty disinterested in souls. Most of her deals seemed to gain her power of some sort or another but sometimes, I swear, she just liked to watch mortals squirm.

Astarion thought about that. It was true; Raphael seemed methodical and decidedly sane in his approach to domination in a way.

“So— then what do you think she is?”

“I’m not sure. But she reminded me of— well— the hag.”

Astarion’s eyes widened in shock. “A Fae?” he breathed. If she was right, she might well prefer to have a devil on her back. By in large, the pure fae from which elves descended had retreated into another plane of chaotic existence… Those who chose to interact with mortals were decidedly more dangerous and unpredictable than a mere devil, by all accounts.

“Maybe. I wasn’t privy to the details of most of her deals, so I don’t know if she ever got her hands on any firstborns but, I don’t know— she has a wildness about her, for sure.”

“It’s the reason you won’t sing,” isn’t it.

She nodded. “The real problem with the power is that it’s hard not to want to use.” She scowled. “And now this tadpole gives me more of the same, and here I am using it anyways.”

“And why shouldn’t you?” Asked Astarion.

“What?”

“Look, take it from someone who spent a very long time under someone else’s power; take advantage of whatever you have. Because if you don’t, you’ll end up as someone's game piece, just as you and I have already been.”

“I don’t know Astarion. Sometimes I think lust for power can imprison someone just as easily as free them.”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. So naive, he thought. “That is ridiculous.”

“You might be right,” she laughed. “Well, whatever I choose to do with it, I guess I’m just glad it’s on my own terms now.”

“That’s the spirit.” He grinned at her. Perhaps he could make her see reason yet. It wouldn’t do, alone in the wilderness, hunted by Absolute cultists, minions of his old master, and now Githyanki, to pull their punches. And besides, he thought to himself, at the end of their little journey, perhaps they would find what gave this so-called absolute its godlike power. Perhaps, they too would find use for it.

“Astarion?” She asked.

He snapped out of his fantasizing. “Hmm?”

“What happened the other night?”

Gods, not this. He opened his mouth to lie, to manipulate her into thinking she had misread the whole situation, that she had overreacted. But what came out of his treacherous mouth was, “I’m— not sure.”

“Alright,” she said. “Was it something I said, something I did?”

Gods below. “Darling, no.” Fine then, the truth, as he knew it at least. “I spent two centuries enslaved and tortured by a brutal vampire lord. I try not to think about it and yet—” He closed his eyes. He had assumed that freedom would be the balm to heal him from his time with his old master. Instead, freedom had pulled him out of his numbness and into an unfamiliar and terrifying reality. He could hear the same ringing in his words as he admitted. “I don’t feel that I’ve escaped him at all, sometimes… And it was that feeling the other night, after we—.” He groaned. Words, usually so easy for him when they were lies, stumbled and quaked when directed towards truth. “Look, I don’t know. Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

She didn’t reply for a minute. His eyes were still shut and he could hear only Embrae’s breathing and her beating heart. “Do we— mean anything to you?” She asked.

His eyes snapped open and he stared at her. No, not this. Why did she have to ask him this? “What do you mean?” He asked, knowing damned well what she meant.

“I do forgive you,” she said. “And I promise it’s OK if the answer is no. You were clear about it being just— fun.” Her voice was light but she couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Look— I wanted to have fun too. And I thought that it could just be that— that we could just be friends with— well, you know. But now…” Her face was red and she looked away.

“Now what?” He kept his voice teasing, although he felt anything but lighthearted. “Now you want to know if I’m ready to profess my, quite literally, undying love for you?”

“No!” she said flushing furiously. “Nothing like that!” She whirled around and fixed him with an accusing stare. “You know, you aren’t making this any easier.”

He laughed, despite himself. She was utterly adorable when she was flustered. “I apologize. Please, continue.”

“Look, I enjoy being around you… And while I enjoy— that— as well, I don’t think I want to continue our— late night escapades— not the way we have been, I mean.”

She had lost him. “Well, what other way is there?”

“As something— more— I guess… I’d like for us to try being something more.” She met his eyes. Hers were brimming with sincerity and fear. She was bearing her soul to him, he realized. His dead heart contracted as she continued hastily. “If you don’t want to— it’s fine. I don’t want to lose you as a friend, either, Astarion.”

If you don’t want to. As always, she gave him a choice. He appreciated that more than he’d ever been able to express and yet, he didn’t know what to do with the choices sometimes. What did he want? He felt lost, as though he were drowning in those hazel irises. Did he want to surface? Was he capable of more?

“I— I would think that maybe you had other candidates for um, more.” He felt a wave of misery just saying it and another of regret as he watched her face fall. “I’m not saying no,” he said quickly. “I just thought perhaps, you might want to try someone— someone else.” Less broken, less weak, he finished in his head.

Her eyes turned warm and her face broke into a sweet grin. “Nah,” she laughed. “Of all the freaks in this camp, you’re the only one I’m interested in more with.”

“What, why?” he blurted out. He backpedaled. He needed to regain control— control of himself, the situation, the conversation. “Well, naturally, I could see why. We have had a lot of fun together…”

She stayed quiet, waiting for his answer. And to his surprise, amid his chaotic thoughts, he did have an answer for her.

“I— we could try I suppose.” He smiled at her. “Very well, darling. If you’re sure about this, then consider yourself well and truly taken.”

Well, this has turned out to be a surprisingly delightful conversation. His delight shifted to misgiving though as he considered the implications. Would she expect something tonight? “Well, darling, did you want to celebrate our um, declaration?”

She flushed again and laughed. “Tempting— but I was thinking, what if we do it right this time? Actually, take some time to get to know one another for a bit before we throw ourselves at each other again?”

What an odd creature, she was. His whole body relaxed at the very idea of ‘taking things slow.’ What a novel concept. Still, Astarion affected a disappointed pout.

“Well, I suppose if you must. There is something to be said for delayed gratification— or so I’m told.”

#astarion fanfic #original female character #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate astarion #slow burn #astarion smut

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codgod-moved · 2 years

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had a dream and forgot it wasn’t real so i was really just about to make a post like damn why do all of e2!scott’s nightmares involve jimmy

#.txt #some notes abt this dream: chromia was underground right next to a deep dark #ancient city . whatever #there was constantly a warden on the loose that had been nicknamed something starting with an s?#i don’t remember the exact name #the warden kept like. saying shit? that kinda sounded like nonsense iirc but it freaked scott out #and it would never attack scott through walls fsr #katherine fwhip and i think pix? came along to kill the warden for scott #scott went running and was found by jimmy (inexplicably in his normal skin not the sheriff one)#and jimmy had a dog with him? or a cat? a Pet #and at first he was being nice all concerned for scott but then he suddenly started being mean and saying the same stuff #as the warden completely out of nowhere #he was also randomly wearing a realistically rendered witch hat now that i think about it #how did i think this dream was real #also that’s not notes i did just describe the whole dream #OH i forgot the random egyptian architecture #and the fact that chromia looked a bit like a mix between itself and gobland #which probably had something to do with it being underground #but since fwhip showed up at one point i think it can be assumed that gobland is still a seperate place #also the deep dark had glowing blue mushrooms in it

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redorich · 4 years

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In the HermitCanyon au, How is my favorite Bee armored Admin doing? How long does it take for Xisuma to become.. aware of what is happening? For the first few sections it seemed like he was in a coma/unconscious. In the most recent bit Impulse tells Etho to get Xisuma, so at least theoretically he can now move, but how long has it taken him to get there, and where is he on the scale to full recovery? Are the other hermits keeping him safe with rabbit stew? (if they have rabbits that is...)

Part 2 of this.

Etho comes back twenty minutes later with a solemn look on his face. (At least, Puffy assumes. She can't actually see most of his face because of that mask of his.)

"X is in a bad way today," he says quietly. "I can take Puffy to him if you guys would like to stay here with Zedaph."

Impulse and Tango look nervously at each other. On one hand, they very much would like to stay with Zedaph, who is mostly healed but still very loopy and probably should not be moved. On the other hand, allowing Puffy deep into the Hermits' inner sanctum is a risk in and of itself, let alone with only one Hermit with her. Etho's a good fighter and a wily bastard, but Puffy is most certainly no slouch.

In the end, it comes down to trust. How much can they show Puffy before they can no longer trust that she won't snitch? How sure are they that she won't try to kill them all and steal their stuff?

"Tell Xisuma I said hi," Zedaph warbles from the bed in the corner of the room, out of any window's line of sight.

As Etho presses a button which removes a panel of the wall in a whir of piston noises, Puffy snorts out a little laugh. "I'll be sure to do that."

Tango nods subtly to Impulse. If Puffy brought Zedaph back to the canyon, saved him from a painful respawn, and didn't once ask for anything in return, then the Hermits can trust her at least this much.

Etho leads Puffy through a short hallway into a large circular room with a domed ceiling. The room is mostly quartz, though the walls are lined with sea lanterns and oak leaves. It’s beautiful. This place has been hiding under her feet this whole time?

“This is the Atrium,” Etho says, “or at least the main one. Come on, getting a mule will be more trouble than it’s worth if you’re not carrying anything.”

Puffy is speechless, utterly and profoundly, when Etho takes her through a tunnel on the opposite side of where she entered. It almost looks as though the tunnel here was carved by hand, then completely redone in dirt and grass and vines to give it a secretive, high fantasy look.

“Hey, Etho!” says a dark-haired man with a big smile as he comes trotting out of a branching hallway to the left. “Hey--” He catches sight of Puffy and his smile dissipates into panic. He shouts incoherently and dives back into the hallway he just exited.

“Hey Bdubs,” Etho greets impishly, then turns to Puffy. “Man, it’s like he saw a ghost or something. Maybe Mothman.”

Puffy bleats out a surprised laugh. Up ahead, she spots another Hermit lurking around the corner of the archway Etho is leading her toward.

“Etho,” says a tall blonde woman. “Cleo wants to talk to you about, er...” The blonde woman glances at Puffy. “Her thing,” she finishes lamely.

“Well, as you can see, I’m a bit busy at the moment. Would you mind telling Cleo so she doesn’t skin me alive?” Etho says sweetly.

The blonde woman snorts. “Face the music, Mothman. I’ll take care of Puffy from here. I assume you’re taking her to Xisuma?”

Etho wilts. Clearly, whoever this Cleo person is, she’s not someone to piss off. Puffy wonders what Etho did.

“See ya around,” Etho waves, somehow both cheery and morose at the same time, like a funeral for someone nobody liked. Puffy and the blonde woman watch him go.

“My name’s False, by the way,” the blonde woman says. “Thanks for the bandanna. Normally I’d be wearing it, but I just got back from beating up Iskall.”

The woman-- False-- laughs. Puffy is once again taken aback by the idea that the Hermits actually use the items that she makes for them.

False takes off in a brisk walk toward the archway she’d come out of. Jumping a little bit at being torn from her thoughts, Puffy hurries to follow. It’s hard to keep up, since all Puffy wants to do is stare. She must be in the living quarters-- they let her in the living quarters?! Each door matches the high fantasy, underground sort of aesthetic, but a few doors are left open and each one is remarkably different on the inside. One room is built entirely out of red and white concrete, whereas another is Nether-themed with actual fire, and the room down the hall is entirely underwater!

One door is different. It’s got blue-purple banners along the frame, and when False opens the door for Puffy, she can see that the room is made of blackstone bricks. Maps of the Dream SMP line the wall, and in the center of the room there is a mildly ornate table made of warped wood.

At the end of the table in the back of the room, opposite the door, sits a trio. To the left, there is a plain-looking man with a beard and an “at” symbol on his shirt. He speaks in a Southern accent to a man on the right side of the table, who wears a red sweater and twirls a feather between his fingers like the cat that got the canary.

In between the two, at the head of the table, rests someone very unique. He’s obviously tall, that much is obvious even when he’s sitting down. He’s also got mesmerizing purple eyes which glow faintly against the dark of the blackstone. Puffy doesn’t know why, but she gets the feeling that they’re supposed to be glowing much brighter.

As taken by the man’s eyes as she is, Puffy doesn’t notice the non-invasive breathing tube the man also has (a cannula? She doesn’t know what it’s called, but that sounds right) until the man’s gaze falls upon her, still standing in the doorway next to False.

“Oh,” the man says. “You’re not supposed to be here. Welcome.”

False steps forward, breaking Puffy from her trance. “Puffy, this is Xisuma, Joe, and Grian. I’d introduce you to them as well, but... you know.”

“I don’t know-- oh,” Puffy says awkwardly, catching sight of the massive crochet blanket she’d made for the Hermit months ago, draped across Xisuma’s shoulders.

“Why are you here?” Grian asks with a tilted head. “No offense or anything, but I just lost a bet. I had three diamonds on Cub bringing you in here eventually-- he’s the one you usually meet at the barrel, you know.”

False interjects, “I didn’t bring her down here, it was Etho!”

“Shoot,” Joe says. “Cleo wins yet again.”

“It was Zedaph, actually,” Puffy says. All eyes turn to her. “I found him on the surface. He was really injured, so I brought him back here. Impulse and-- Tango? Yeah, Tango-- told Etho to take me down here.”

Puffy uncharacteristically twiddles her fingers a little bit, feeling in over her head. “Uh, you know I’m not gonna tell or anything, so... Why am I here?”

The full weight of Xisuma’s piercing stare falls upon her. Even as fragile as he looks, even as strong as Puffy is, she feels a jolt of apprehension.

“You’d know more about the red vines than we do,” he begins. “Etho mentioned that they’re what hurt Zedaph; he’s mentioned them on multiple occasions, and never in a good way. How long do you think it would take for those vines to reach our village, and what do you think would happen once they do?”

“As far as we’re aware, there are several players who are proponents of the vines, and claim they originate from some sort of egg?” Joe adds. “I’ve had a hard time calculating how big of a mushroom we’d need to make an omelet out of the egg, but apparently most of my fellow Hermits do not in fact want evil eggs on their omelets.”

“And how come the End is inaccessible?” Grian cuts in with a whine. “I want my elytra.”

Xisuma huffs a laugh into the cannula. “As you can see, we have many questions which only a native Dream SMP player like yourself can answer. In the interest of keeping ourselves safe--” he trails off into a coughing fit.

Puffy bites her lip, feeling as though she really shouldn’t be seeing this. Joe rests his hand on Xisuma’s back.

“You give us answers, and we’ll give you diamonds, netherite, whatever you want. And when we move out-- well, it wasn’t much of a secret anyway-- we’ll offer you a safe place with us,” Grian speaks up on Xisuma’s behalf.

A thousand thoughts spin inside Puffy’s head. She feels like Dorothy in that tornado, and Grian’s offer is the Wicked Witch. “Did you guys really save Tommy’s life?” she finds herself asking.

The Hermits seem taken aback.

“The blond kid?” False asks. “Yeah, but he was unconscious the whole time. I think Scar told the kid to keep us a secret, but... I don’t think any of us expected that to actually work.”

Puffy laughs disbelievingly. “He’s the one person on the entire server who keeps insisting that you guys aren’t real.”

“That’s good to hear,” Xisuma says quietly. “Do you have an answer for us, or would you like some time to consider?”

There are a thousand and one variables Puffy needs to think about. What is Dream’s stance on the Hermits? Who will she be setting herself against by allying with the Hermits? What will Puffy have to expect, from both underground and surface-dwelling players alike? Which players can she take in a fight?

Fuck it, she thinks. “You’ve got yourselves a deal.”

Xisuma smiles. Despite his ill condition, she gets the feeling that this nice, mild-mannered man is far more dangerous than she could ever hope to be.

“I’m glad to have you on our side, Puffy,” he says. “Thank you for your help.”

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #captain puffy #ethoslab #zedaphplays #impulsesv #tango tek #xisuma #bdubs #zombiecleo #falsesymmetry #iskall85 #joe hills #grian #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #me.cpp #me.txt

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lostinwildflowers · 3 years

Text

Strange Magic

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Summary: In a world where dark elves are trying to take over, light fairies are being hunted and captured to be used as weapons. You are on the run from them when you enter a forest, accidentally injuring yourself. A mysterious wyvern appears before you, will it hurt you or lend you a helping hand?

Word Count: 10.5K

Warnings: slow-burn(It wasn't supposed to be I swear, I hope I did this right), pining, mentions of blood, swearing, choking(minor torture), fantasy AU!, Morphling!Ushijima(called a wyvern), Fairy!Reader(physical appearance is human), uhm I made some creatures up, angst, and fluff of course :D

A/N: Hey y'all this is my submission for @bluebellhairpin aka Nemo's Fantasy Collab! I wanted to continue stepping out of my box, so I wrote for good ole Ushiwaka for this fic! Please leave a comment or reblog this, I worked really hard and planned this out for a long time. Thank you and enjoy :D -Birch <3

You didn’t know where else to run, the thundering of hooves sounding out everywhere as you charge towards the forest. The dark elves were on you in an instant when you crossed their border, and you should have known better than to run.

War cries could be heard from behind you, and you duck under some vines, terror ripping through your body as you could start to make out individual voices.

You try to tread as quietly as you can through the forest, the dark green canopy thick and very high above you. Your (colored) eyes catch onto some small blue wisps floating through the sky, the small creatures twirling around in a friendly hello.

There isn’t time to dawdle though, Oikawa’s elves would be on you in a second if you didn’t keep moving. You wind your way through the trees, the voices and clangs of the elf warriors fading as you make your way deeper into the woods.

The bad thing was that the canopy was so thick you were starting to lose your vision, and you were terrified to use your powers. As a light fairy, you could produce soft beams of light at will whenever you were in a good headspace. But whenever you got mad or frightened, you lost almost all control over it, leading to forest fires and devastation.

You settle for emitting a small bit of light from your pointer finger, allowing it to glow like a soft candle as you pick your way over huge and gnarly roots, the material of your skirt getting caught on the jagged edges of the moss.

Crackling in front of you stops you in your tracks, and you are soon met face to face with a small herd of shadow deer. The black creatures were known to be kind and friendly toward those around them, so you smile in relief when they simply acknowledge you as you walk by.

There must be water nearby if there are shadow deer around. Hopefully, there aren’t any water sprites, those things are painful to deal with, you think to yourself, once again tugging on your skirt as you scutter around a particularly nasty vine.

Your breathing had managed to calm down at this point, the only thing you could hear was the rustling of the shadow deer next to you munching on the grass and the faintest roar of water in the background.

A squeal almost leaves your lips as your eyes focus on the faint path in front of you, pointing your glowing finger forward for a better view. When you catch sight of a shimmering dark blue sparkle you immediately start making your way down the dirt path, pink and purple glowing mushrooms lining the way down to the water’s edge.

At this point, you were completely lost in the middle of the forest, your surroundings glowing a deep midnight purple. You look around the path briefly to see if any small animals would cut in front of you and you think, I bet nothing is out here in this twilight. It’s almost impossible to see without a light.

You were lost in your thoughts and trying to remain calm, keeping your light steady, that you didn’t realize the path had turned from dirt into wet stone. Your feet slide out from underneath you, a loud crying leaving your lips as you hit the ground, your right calf ripping against a huge and sawtoothed rock.

In your haste to get close to the water, you also didn’t notice a sharp pair of green eyes were watching you from across the riverbed, eyes that seemed to glow neon with intensity.

You groan at the pain radiating through your back and your butt. The fall had made you land clumsily, causing your light to flicker out in haste.

In the dark twilight of the forest, you could see the faint gleam of rushing water, and you sit up slowly as another whimper leaves your lips when you shift your body. At a quick glance, you can see a wet, dark red liquid on your leg, and then a burning pain starts to set in.

You cough lowly, gasping in pain as you try to clutch your leg, eyes welling with unshed tears. A loud splash in the water sings out as a huge shadow begins to loom over you.

You are met with bright and shining olive green eyes, and you feel your heart start to race and your stomach clench in fear as you gaze up at the wyvern in front of you.

A harsh and dissonant screech leaves your lips as you try to scramble away from the huge creature that resembled a two-legged dragon. The sharp green eyes pierce you to the point where you feel like you can’t move, but the pain in your leg tells you that you can’t move because you’re injured.

In your panic, you accidentally start spewing light from your hands and onto the soft, dry leaves next to you. They easily catch fire, the orange and yellow glow of the flames lighting up the huge creature in front of you.

You could make out large, dark green and brown scales all over its chest, and you catch sight of a huge and swinging tail behind it. The flames start curling up a dried tree on the end of the path, and you begin your scrambling again, trying to crawl away from the monster in front of you.

In a flash, the wyvern turns around, its tail cutting deep into the water as it puts out the flames around you in an enormous wave. The path is dark again, the only light being from the few squished mushrooms you scrambled over and the olive glow of the wyvern’s eyes.

The figure of the wyvern shimmers for a few seconds before your eyes, and in a heartbeat, a tall and muscular figure stands in front of you. His eyes don’t seem to glow as much in his human form, but the intensity is still there as he begins to walk toward you.

Your heart is beating erratically at this point and you point your hand at him and shout panicked, “Get back or I will blast you!”

That immediately stops the large figure in front of you, the man stops dead in his tracks and puts one hand out in front of him slowly. He blinks once, his eyes staying focused on yours as he states, “I’m not going to hurt you. I am here to help.”

You manage to shuffle back onto your butt, sticking both hands out in front of you. Your eyes are wide with fear and you yell back at him, “How do I know you aren’t working with the dark elves to capture me?!”

This causes the man to tense all of a sudden, his large frame freezing at the sound of “dark elves”. His olive-green eyes remain latched on your own as he slowly crouches down, his hand still held out in a peaceful manner.

“I am not working for Oikawa,” he states lowly, his voice gravelly and deep. You just stare at him distrustfully, so the man continues, “My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi, but you can call me Ushijima.”

You put one hand down as you start to gather your feet underneath you, preparing to stand up. In your movements though, you gasp in pain, and Ushijima shuffles forward to help you.

Quickly you put both hands out again and you yell, “Stay back!” With that, a small burst of light flies from your hands, but Ushijima ducks out of the way easily, turning his head to watch the light sail past him.

He turns his head back to you and he replies, “Your aim isn’t too good, you must be in a lot of pain. I know you light fairies only have a limit to how much light you can expel.”

Now it’s your turn to freeze at his words, your hands dropping as you look at him in shock. Your mouth remains hanging open as you stutter out, “H- how did you know?”

A frown finds its way onto Ushijima’s face as he murmurs, “My friend, Tendo, was a light fairy. He was taken by Oikawa’s dark elves when he wouldn’t turn himself in to be used as their weapon. As far as I know, they killed him.”

At Ushijima’s confession, you sigh dejectedly and nod slowly, “I’m sorry to hear that, Ushijima. There aren’t many of us light fairies left. My name is L/n Y/n, and I’m on the run from Oikawa and his men.”

Ushijima seems to soften as you introduce yourself and he blankly responds, “You are injured. You can’t possibly run from the dark elves in this state. Let me help you, my hut isn’t too far from here.”

You nod wearily, trying once again to get up on your own, by whimpering when you brush your leg against the hard stones underneath you. Warm hands on your waist haul you to your feet, and you are met with those same intelligent green eyes.

“It might be best if I carry you, we have to cross the water and there is no way you can wade through that on your own,” Ushijima remarks, his hands lingering by your sides as he awaits your response.

You go to argue with him, but as you apply pressure to your injured leg, it wobbles and gives out on you. Ushijima’s firm grasp is around you in an instant, and he doesn’t say anything as he picks you up in his arms bridal style.

Ushijima is very cautious as he carries you through the water, the coolness of it lapping at the bottom of his tank top. Once on the shore, Ushijima asks you how you are doing, and you simply shrug, “I don’t know, you’re the one carrying me.”

With that, a small smile curls at the edges of Ushijima’s lips, and he sets out for his small hut. The walk to his shack is quite beautiful, you must admit. On this side of the river, the moss glows a gentle emerald green, and the tree trunks are a mix of black, navy, and burgundy barks.

There are a few small creatures you see along the way, one or two more shadow deer, a few red and oranges wisps too. What catches your attention is the fire sprites hanging around the tops of the trees.

The fire sprites were known for their very short tempers, but you were surprised to see how kindly they smiled at you in Ushijima’s arms. The man doesn’t seem to notice them himself, his pace not wavering as he maneuvers through the trees toward his home.

You notice Ushijima relaxes slightly at the sight of his house against the twilight sky. The hut is pretty small, enough to support one person, I suppose, you think to yourself as you take in the compact building.

Ushijima is ever the gentleman as he helps you inside the front door, boarding it shut behind him as he guides you over to a table. He clears it as quickly as he can, taking the pieces of parchment and moving them to a smaller desk.

You look around the house as you plop down in one of the wooden chairs, eyes scanning to see a small fireplace, couch and kitchen. Ushijima appears in your vision, two lit lanterns in his hands.

He sets one on the table you were sitting at, and he hangs the other on a hook by the door. After that, he finds a drawer, pulling out 10 or so candles. He quickly lights each of them, setting them up throughout the room to provide ample light.

It was at this moment, with his back turned to you, that you realized how handsome Ushijima was. He was littered with ropes of muscle, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the beefiness of his back that you see peeking out from under his tank top.

In your ogling, you hardly register it when he turns around, his gaze soft and curious as it meets your own. He sets the medical supplies on the table as he takes his place in a chair next to you and asks, “Y/n? Are you alright? You look slightly dazed.”

You just rub at your eyes and shake your head side to side twice to clear your thoughts as you mumble back, “Uh, yeah. I think I just lost a lot of blood, but I should be okay.”

Ushijima nods in reply as he starts to prep the supplies, grabbing a small glass bottle of alcohol and some gauze. Kind green eyes meet your own troubled (colored) ones and he asks quietly, “Is it alright if I clean your cut now?”

You blush faintly and scoot your leg over to him, pulling up the hem of your skirt so he had access to your wound. Ushijima’s hands are rough and warm against your smooth skin, but he is gentle as he picks up your foot to set in his lap.

In a few motions, he wets a small piece of cloth with water, cleaning up the edges of the cut from where the river water mixed with your blood. After that, he takes a clean cloth and allows it to soak in the alcohol for a second, glancing at you and saying, “This is going to sting.”

You grip onto the edge of the desk as he dabs at the wound, and you can’t help the way your knee tugs toward your chest at the sharp sting of it. You bang your knee slightly at your sudden reflex, and Ushijima stares blankly at you and says, “I told you it was going to sting.”

An embarrassed flush covers your face as you nod, stretching your leg back out. Ushijima stops you though, moving his chair closer so he’s sat next to you, your thigh slung over one of his legs as he looks down at the cut intensely.

“I’m going to have to clean this thoroughly. I can see dirt in there, and it could get infected if not cleaned properly,” he states monotonously, looking down at your scared face.

His expression softens at the clear panic etched on your features and he glances away while mumbling, “You can grab onto my arm if that will help ease your pain.”

So while he gets to work on cleaning your wound, your hands find a place around the girth of his large bicep. He does his best to work as efficiently as possible, but when he has to pluck a few pieces of grass and rubble out, your hands tighten around the muscle to the point you thought you were hurting him.

Ushijima is nothing but kind and patient as he wraps your calf with some gauze, securing it with some medical tape before setting it on the ground tenderly. His hands don’t linger as long as you would have liked, because he’s soon grabbing all of the dirty supplies and finding a place to dispose of them.

As Ushijima washes his hands in a pail of water he murmurs quietly, “You can sleep on the bed for as long as you like. I can rest out here by the fire.”

You wince as you turn to face him and you say, “I can’t possibly take your bed, this is your home. I’m just a guest here because you were kind enough to help me out. I don’t even know how to repay you.”

Ushijima almost smiles at this as he shakes his head, “No, I insist. You need the room on the bed for your leg to stretch out. I will take the couch to keep an eye out for intruders. No one should be around or have followed us, no one knows where I live except for you.”

You open your mouth to object again, but you think better of it and instead ask, “So you said you knew a light fairy? Oh, what was his name… oh, Tendo?”

Ushijima’s large frame freezes from drying his hands, his back turned toward you. You see him sigh and turn around slowly, sitting in the chair next to you again. Ushijima runs his hands over his face, his fingers trailing through his olive-brown hair as he takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Tendo was my best friend,” he starts, “I’m a wyvern, and Tendo grew up next to where my family lived. He was never afraid of my morphling form, and I was never afraid of his light powers.”

You listen as Ushijima tells you his backstory and about how he ended up in the twilight forest. He mentions how his family moved across the country without him, and that he was sought after for his hardened scales as armor.

In turn, you explained how the dark elf king, Oikawa Tooru, was hunting the light fairies for his own personal army. You tell the story of how they caught you on the edge of their territory, leaving them to follow you in pursuit as you made your way into the twilight forest.

Deep in the dark lands, an obsidian castle stood high against the rising moon, one of the tallest towers flickering with the light from a holding chamber.

In this chamber, a defiant red-headed light fairy was chained, his spirit not broken as the dark elf king and his loyal soldiers tried to corrupt him.

A gasp of, “I will never, submit to you, Oikawa!” leaves the redhead’s lips as the dark elf uses his power to choke the air out of Tendo’s lungs. The dark elf king just smirks madly as he releases his power, allowing the light fairy to crash to his knees.

Oikawa turns to his left and calls, “General Iwaizumi, bring in The Siren.” The dark-haired male nods, and slips down a blackened hallway within the castle.

A few minutes go by before General Iwaizumi is accompanied by a silver-haired male covered in patchy blue and green scales. Oikawa turns to the siren and states, “Semi, you need to sing this foolish light fairy into command.”

Semi nods hesitantly under Oikawa’s command and makes his way toward the chained-up fairy. Oikawa and the other dark elves leave, locking the two creatures in the room as Semi’s enchanting voice starts to sound out.

The following morning in the twilight forest is surprisingly calm, and you groan as you roll over in the large king-sized bed. A broken cry leaves your lips as you feel pain in your leg, and in a few seconds, Ushijima is standing at the frame of the door, concern written all over his features.

“Y/n,” he rushes, “What’s wrong?” He answers his own question when he pulls back the sheets on the bed to expose your leg, blood coating every inch of the bandage he had wrapped last night.

Ushijima’s eyes harden in determination as he glances at the pain etched on your face. Without another word, he turns and strides out of the room, his hands clenched at his sides as he finds more medical supplies.

In a minute, he’s back by your side and murmuring softly, “Y/n, I need you to take your skirt off, it got tangled between your legs when you slept, causing your wound to open in the night.”

You are half asleep and in pain as you listen to his words, and you grumble out, “Can you at least help me to my feet? I don’t think I can stand up on my own.”

Ushijima is immediately by your side, sliding one hand behind your shoulders while the other sits at the small of your back, helping to heave you to your feet. You stumble slightly, but Ushijima catches you as you fall into his chest, your forehead making contact with his sternum.

You close your eyes in pain as you mumble out, “Ow, you’re bony.” Ushijima huffs at this, a genuine smile sitting on his lips as he steadies you.

Ushijima is very respectful as he helps you out of your skirts, his eyes only staying above your chest or below your knees as much as he can. He starts to take off the soiled tape once he has you sit on the edge of the bed, and he kneels in front of you to remove the blood-soaked gauze.

His hands feel nice, you think to yourself as he situated the new wrap of gauze, his brows furrowed in concentration. You blink shyly at your own thoughts as he stands up and walks over to a chest near the end of the bed.

Ushijima pulls out a pair of pants and a large green shirt and sheepishly rubs his head as he looks at you. He starts, “I, uhm. I don’t have any clothes that will fit you, and your skirts will keep getting in the way. You can wear these.”

Your face flushes with warmth as he hands you the clothes, slipping out of the room to let you get changed. As he walks away, Ushijima doesn’t understand why his heart is beating faster and he can’t stop thinking of you sitting on his bed with his clothes in your hands.

It takes you a little while to get changed, but once you do you hesitantly call, “Uhm, Ushijima? Could you help me to the kitchen?”

At that, Ushijima walks back into the bedroom with a small plate of fresh berries, some bread, and a small piece of meat. He tries to calm his breathing as his eyes catch you looking divine in his clothes, but he can’t help the way the tips of his ears burn red.

He clears his throat and says, “I made some food for you, Y/n. I need to leave you here and head to the nearest town to get supplies. If I’m not careful, your leg could end up infected, and I need more bandages and some clothes for you.”

You shuffle toward the food, the collar of the shirt sliding down to expose your collarbones as you reach for a strawberry. Ushijima has to rip his eyes away from you as he bows slightly, walking toward the door.

You look rapidly at the sound of his retreating footsteps and you yell out, “Ushijima, wait!” The tall man stops as he passes through the doorway, placing one hand on the frame he turns his head over his shoulder and asks, “Yes, Y/n?”

Butterflies erupt finds in your stomach as you manage to say, “Thank you, Ushijima. For everything.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you almost think you said something wrong when all you can focus on are his bright green eyes.

But then Ushijima gives you a gentle, closed-lipped smile before saying, “I will be gathering my cart for the next little while, I will tell you whenever I am leaving.” At that, he leaves you in the tightly packed bedroom to go prepare for his trip.

The day goes by pretty slowly at the start, as you had woken up early in the morning due to pain. Ushijima had left right as the forest started to shimmer a mulberry shade of purple, the sun trying its hardest to brighten the dark woods.

You try to rest on the bed, but you feel bad for having bled all over Ushijima’s sheets, so you take your time in standing up, carefully peeling the blankets off the bed and over to the washbasin you had seen when you walked in.

You didn’t necessarily walk around the house, but you limped with care as you lifted the sheets off the bed and carried them into the small living room. You add a log to the fire burning in the hearth and your mind wanders, Ushijima must have added wood before he left this morning.

Somehow you manage to tug the basin closer to the fire, allowing the heat of the flames to warm the basin slightly as you begin scrubbing at the bloodstains. This takes up most of your late morning and into lunch, having to stretch your leg out carefully as to not cramp it.

At this point in the day, the forest was a lot brighter, as the wind was moving quickly through the canopy, splitting open the dark blanket to allow some light to shine down onto the forest floor.

You hang the blankets up in front of the fire in hopes they would dry before Ushijima would get home. You feel your stomach grumble from all of the moving around you were doing, and the dull ache in your leg only intensifies throughout the day.

You look at the small kitchen within the hut, and you see the small box of berries that Ushijima had grabbed fruit from whenever he gave you your breakfast. As you gaze upon the small fruit you think, I really don’t want to eat all of these, but I don’t know where else to get food.

Thus, you end up snacking on the berries for a while, filling up your stomach while also leaving plenty of strawberries, raspberries, and wild berries in the bottom of the small basket. Once your belly was pleasantly full, you crawl over to the couch where Ushijima had slept and you curl up into a ball, letting sleep overtake your exhausted form.

It’s late afternoon when Ushijima returns, the sounds of wings beating alerting you of his presence. You quickly get up from the couch where you had been dozing, and you head straight for the front door, undoing the deadbolt in a hasty swing.

You fling the door open to be met with the green and brown wyvern you know to be Ushijima, his eyes ferociously green in his morphling form. You notice the large cart on the expanse of his back and you recognize boxes and crates full of supplies.

You can’t help the awe that covers your features as you begin to walk toward Ushijima’s huge form. He quickly starts to transform, allowing the cart to slide off of his back gracefully before he is revealed in his human clothes.

Ushijima quickly starts heading toward you, picking up a jog when he sees you stumble. Just before you reach him, your injured leg dips down in a slight hole in the forest floor, and you trip, your face rushing toward the ground.

In a flash, Ushijima lunges forward, somehow managing to slide under you so you land on his chest with his back to the ground. He coughs once as he tries to regain the air in his lungs, and you tense as you feel pain ricochet through your legs.

Neither of you realizes that his hands are firmly wrapped around your waist, but as your head catches up with what happened you look down at him and ask, “Ushi- Ushijima, are you alright? You didn’t have to catch me you know.”

Ushijima just nods slightly and sputters out, “Hng, uh, yeah Y/n, I am fine. Is your leg alright?” You nod in response, and you notice that your lips are only a few inches away from his own plump ones.

You can see smaller speckles of gold and brown within his sharp green eyes, and you feel yourself getting flustered by noticing his handsome features up close. You swear you see Ushijima’s eyes flick down to your lips, but you blame it on your vision failing you.

Ushijima’s hands tighten around your waist even more, his arms practically wrapping you in a hug to his chest when your leg slides off of his own. You flush under his warm gaze and his even warmer touches, your stomach filling with butterflies as he looks over your features.

“You are very beautiful,” Ushijima whispers softly, untangling one hand from around your waist to brush a piece of hair out of your eyes, tenderly tucking it behind your ear.

You don’t know what to say for a second, your cheeks getting hotter as he continues to look at you. You end up murmuring back a simple, “Thank you.”

Ushijima sits up slowly, your forehead moving to rest on his own as he shifts his weight forward. Your lips catch the side of his cheek in a soft kiss, and you pull away quickly at the realization of your actions.

You don’t notice the red staining Ushijima’s cheeks though, and he simply helps you stand up without another word.

The two of you work in tandem unpacking all of the supplies, Ushijima brings the crates inside while you start taking items out and reorganizing them. This goes on for an hour or so before Ushijima’s cart is cleared.

He locks the door behind the two of you, securing the deadbolt before swiveling around to the boxes. Ushijima glances at your leg and asks, “How does it feel? I managed to bargain for some pain medicine, if you need some I can grab it.”

You shake your head and say, “I’m alright as of now, but maybe before bed, I really don’t want to bleed all over your sheets again.” You glance absentmindedly at the sheets strung in front of the fireplace and you curse yourself for not putting them back on the bed earlier.

Ushijima’s gaze follows your own and he almost frowns when he sees the sheets hanging. He steps forward and states, “I’m sorry Y/n, I should have cleaned those before I left this morning. You probably overexerted yourself doing this.”

You smile up at the large man from where you are sitting and say, “No, it’s alright Ushi. I didn’t have anything else to do today, and I was the one who dirtied them.”

His hand tugs on the now dry sheets and he grumbles lowly, “I will put these back on the bed. You can help yourself to the meat crate on the table.”

You simply nod as he walks past you, and a fluttery feeling makes its way from your stomach and into your chest as you catch a whiff of the woodsy scent lingering on him from his journey.

These next few days are going to be interesting, you think to yourself. I don’t know what I’ll be able to do to make up for my injured leg, but I’ll have to figure something out. Ushijima is too kind for me to just leech off of him.

Days turn into weeks as your leg starts to heal, and you are walking a lot better than you had before. Ushijima was nothing but kind and compassionate toward you as you healed, making breakfast and dinner every single morning and evening without fail.

You, in turn, would help do laundry and collect berries and vegetables from the small garden Ushijima had next to his hut. Ushijima had objected at the start, but he realized you needed something to do while he helped you heal and hide from the dark elves.

More recently you had decided to show him your powers, starting off with emitting a soft and golden glow from the tips of your fingers. Whenever your leg was completely healed you showed him how you could toss the beams of light like how you did when he first encountered you.

Ushijima found himself enjoying your presence more than he would have liked to admit. You had started filling the hole in his heart that had been made by Tendo’s absence and he was scared. He was scared that you would leave him or be taken away like how Tendo was, and he couldn’t let that happen.

Even worse yet, Ushijima was wanting to touch you. Not sexually or suggestively, but whenever you both would walk to the river to get water, he wanted to reach down and lace his fingers with your own.

He wanted to cuddle you on the couch in front of the fire when the nights got cold. He wanted you to grab onto his arm when you tripped or if you needed him for something.

Ushijima found himself wanting to be your person. He didn’t even know what to do about it because he didn’t know if you felt the same way or not.

Meanwhile, you wanted to rest your head on his shoulder after you set the fishing line and were waiting for something to catch. You wanted to chase after him in the field of wildflowers on the edge of the forest. You wanted him to kiss you on the forehead when you went to lie down in his bed.

You craved his touch after all of these months, his warm and rough hands sent shocks and shivers up your spine. His touch was electric and magnetic all at the same time, it caused you to shiver and shake with a simple graze on the hand.

You thought for sure you had ruined it one night when you had asked, “Ushijima, I know I have been a guest in your house for a while, and you’ve been calling me by my first name since we met. Is it alright if I called you Wakatoshi? Or even Toshi for short?”

The man had frozen where he was cutting vegetables for your small dinner. A pregnant silence hung in the air and you bit your lip in nervousness when he didn’t answer.

You shuffled on the couch as an embarrassed flush spread on your cheeks and you murmur, “I understand if you would like me to continue calling you-” “No,” he cuts you off.

“Please call me Wakatoshi or Toshi. You have been great company, you can call me whatever you like,” he continues as he resumes chopping up the carrot. You don’t notice the red on his neck and ears, and you don’t see the toothy grin that he lets slide onto his lips.

There was another instance when you had been making small sandwiches for lunch while Ushijima was out chopping wood. He had been at it all morning and you thought he might like a glass of lemonade.

What you weren’t prepared for was to walk around the corner of the hut, a cup of lemonade in hand, and be met face to face with Ushijima’s muscled and very much shirtless back.

The sound of the cup hitting the ground made Ushijima whip around, the axe in his hand swinging as he faced you. When he saw your dazed look and redden cheeks, he immediately dropped the tool to his side.

“Are you alright? What’s going on?” he had asked you, raising up the axe above his head to lodge it into the piece of wood he had been chopping.

A squeak leaves your lips at the sound of the crack, and your feet step into the remnants of the lemonade on the ground. Ushijima turns back to you, his broad chest glistening with sweat as he walks over to you.

You can’t help but gulp as the huge man approaches you and then reaches down to pick up the cup, handing it to you with a gentle, “You accidentally dropped this.”

You just nod and take the cup from him, quickly limping and scurrying back into the hut. Your fingers at your face and eyes as you groan into your hand, and you look at the cup with disgust as you think, Have I really gotten this attracted to Ushijima? I know I’m living with him, but damn.

A few weeks after the lemonade incident, Ushijima took you down to the river to help him gather water to store for drinking. He carried two buckets on a long pole slung over his shoulder, and he let you carry a few bottles in a satchel slung across your body.

The two of you made simple small talk as the river approached, and Ushijima took the liberty of getting thigh-deep in the water to fill up the buckets of water before returning to shore.

You had simply crouched on the riverbed, reaching forward ever so slightly to fill up each bottle carefully. You watched for sand or any bugs that might have gotten in the way, so you didn’t see Ushijima behind you.

He rested a hand on your shoulder gently as he said, “The buckets are full, so whenever the bottles are ready we can head back to the house.”

Ushijima’s touch and low voice ended up scaring you, making you jump forward into the cold water of the river with a shrill scream. You ended up only rolling into the shallows, but your entire body was soaked head to toe when you emerged.

Your mouth hung open accusingly at Ushijima, whose expression was one of shock and fear as he regarded your wet figure. He steps toward you and into the shallows, reaching a hand out to say, “Oh my goodness, Y/n, I did not mean to scare you, I simply-”

A splash of water cuts him off as you shove water with your hands toward his tall frame. Ushijima slightly recoils at the sensation of the cool water on his skin, and he goes to ask you what you were doing until he sees the coy grin on your lips.

With his own chuckle, he reaches down and splashes you back, his feet guiding him deeper into the blue water of the river. A squeal flies from your lips as you try to scramble away from him, but his hands grab at you as he dunks you both in the refreshing river water.

Laughter sounds out from the two of you, your giggles sound like wind chimes compared to his deep baritone. You almost stop laughing just to hear the beautiful sound fall from his lips as you catch his gaze.

Ushijima rests his hands on your back, holding you close in the middle of the river as the two of you lock eyes. Water drips down from his hair and onto the plump apples of his cheeks, where a large and toothy grin awaited you.

You mirrored the cheerful look on his face, eyes squinting up at him as you rested your hands on his chest, your own torso heaving from the giggles still falling from your lips. The warmth from his body made your skin tingle from the temperature difference, and you found yourself getting lost in his comforting green eyes.

A loud buzzing can be heard from the other side of the river, catching both you and Ushijima’s attention rapidly as a horde of water sprites fly at you angrily. Ushijima pushes you towards the shore as he follows in suit, his clothes clinging tightly to his muscled form as he grabs his buckets and lifts the bar across his back.

You grab for the few bottles you had managed to fill, pushing them into the damp satchel quickly as you clamper out of the water and to where Ushijima was waiting. The two of you set off as quickly as you can without spilling the buckets, laughter and giggles spewing from both of you as you make your way back to the hut.

Then there was your biggest and most embarrassing moment yet. You had come to learn that the days in the twilight forest were warm, so a shirt and pants were fine, some days even a cropped shirt was acceptable.

However, the nights in the forest were absolutely brutal, as temperatures dropped rapidly, and that was why Ushijima kept the firewood supply stocked constantly.

The night had gone as usual, the sun was setting which meant it was time for the front door to be locked and the board to be set in place. Ushijima had the fire going from dinner and was poking at it slightly to shift the embers around.

He still insisted on sleeping on the smaller couch, even though you had offered him the bed countless times. Ushijima would always say something about how he was raised to respect women and that you were recovering from an injury and he didn’t want to take advantage of you.

But that night, you laid shivering and cold in Ushijima’s expansive bed. The comforters did little to warm you, and you even wore one of Ushijima’s larger shirts over your own smaller one in an attempt to warm yourself.

The constant cold and shivering had you exhausted, but sleep couldn’t quite seem to find you. This led you to your current predicament.

You were standing in the doorway of the bedroom, facing the kitchen and the soft glow from the fire. You couldn’t see Ushijima, but you knew he was laying on the other side of the couch, hopefully asleep.

Soft footsteps lead you over to the front of the fire, and with as much care as you can manage, you settle down next to the hearth, hands held out to try to warm them up.

A sigh leaves your lips as the fire begins to heat your fingers up, and you tuck your knees under your chin as you bask in the quiet warmth. A blanket being draped over your shoulders makes you turn hastily, and you see Ushijima standing behind you, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

“If you were cold you should have told me, I would have added more logs to the fire,” Ushijima states quietly, his arms crossing over his chest as he regards your small, balled-up figure on the floor.

You glance at the flames to keep your eyes off of his handsome face as you murmur, “I thought you were asleep, Toshi. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Ushijima carefully sits down next to you, opening his left arm to invite you into his chest for extra warmth. You shyly scoot closer to him, tucking your cheek into his chest and letting one hand rest on his thigh.

He wraps his arm around you slowly, as if to not scare you as he pulls you closer to his chest. His green eyes linger on the top of your head as his voice rumbles, “You are my main priority right now, Y/n. I have to tend to your needs, even if it is as simple as warmth.”

You nod slightly, the body heat radiating from Ushijima sending tingles up and down your spine. The warmth starts to spread all over, and as you start to drift off in Ushijima’s arms, you could swear something touched your head.

In a few moments, you were asleep in Ushijima’s lap, and he couldn’t believe he had actually kissed your forehead. Ever since you had accidentally kissed his cheek, he had wanted to return the kiss to you somehow, and he had been given the perfect opportunity.

The following morning, the fire had burnt out when you woke up, but you weren’t cold at all. Yes, there was a blanket covering you, but the weight of a solid and firmly muscled arm was wrapped around your torso, locking you in place and constantly giving out heat.

Behind the said arm was the looming figure of Ushijima, whose eyes were peeked open slightly, watching and waiting to see when you would wake up. He felt you shift against him, and that’s when his eyes popped open.

He lifted his arm slightly, allowing you to turn to face him as you blinked sleepily up at him, (colored) orbs half-lidded with a lazy smile on your lips. Ushijima smiles softly in return, his arm tightening again when you nuzzle into his chest.

Neither of you discusses the way you enjoyed holding each other, especially when you have to untangle from each other’s limbs and begin your day. After breakfast, you call out, “Toshi, I need to go refill our basket full of berries, I’ll be near the river if you need me for anything.”

Ushijima nods from where he’s sketching a map at the table before turning to you and saying, “Be careful out there since you are going by alone. I know you can protect yourself but some creatures won’t be kind to you.”

You roll your eyes and nod, giving the green-eyed man a mock salute as you grab the basket, hauling it to your hip as you make your way out of the small shack and into the woods.

The walk to the river only takes a few minutes, and so you set to work, grabbing handfuls of the small blueberries and huckleberries that liked to grow within reach of the water.

You quiet hum to yourself as the basket slowly starts to fill up, your leg cramping every once in a while, forcing you to take small breaks in between handfuls of berries.

Out of nowhere, a large wave of light is fired at you, causing you to get blasted through the huckleberries and down to the riverbed. A scream escapes your lips as you land, echoing throughout the forest as the plants around you catch fire.

Ushiwaka hears the scream from where he had just started tending to his garden outside of the house, and he begins sprinting toward the river at the resounding cry.

Then through the path burnt by the light and fire, stands Tendo Satori, his palms glowing and a sadistic grin on his face. As the light fairy makes his way towards you, you scramble to your feet, holding your own glowing palms out in front of you in defense.

Tendo smiles at you before saying, “Well, well, well, little light fairy, looks like you’re trapped.” And he wasn’t wrong, you were surrounded by water, which definitely didn’t aid you in fighting.

Ushijima appears moments afterward, his chest heaving and his eyes widening as they lock onto the tall form in front of him. He coughs for a split second, gaining the attention of the red-headed light fairy as he stutters out, “T- Tendo? I thought you were killed...”

Tendo just laughs out, “Oh my, you big oaf, I was simply recruited to the correct side of this world, to serve under his majesty, King Oikawa.”

As Tendo takes a step toward you, Ushijima steps toward Tendo with a deep shout of, “You get away from her, NOW.”

Tendo ignores Ushijima’s words and starts advancing toward you again, bringing a light beam to his fingers, he chuckles darkly.

You glance at Ushijima, panic, and terror written all over your disheveled features and you yell to him, “This is your friend, Tendo? Why didn’t you tell me he’s a psychopath?!”

Ushijima starts to make his way toward you as he calls back, “Well he wasn’t like this before! He never would have bowed down to Oikawa unless they brainwashed him!”

True panic starts to set in at Ushijima’s words, and you can feel the control of your power start to slip with every passing second. Tendo laughs maniacally, shooting beams of light at you in rapid succession.

On instinct, you engage your light power, sending a huge wave of light and heat out, causing trees and bushes on the edge of the water to catch fire. You had stopped paying attention to your surroundings, totally giving into the dark and dangerous part of your power.

Tendo just smiles at you and shouts with joy, “Yes! Yes! Unleash your true power, my fellow fairy!”

Ushijima had to stop whenever you sent out your blast of light, and he was at a loss for what to do as you lost control of yourself. He gazed around him, eyes cataloging the damage of your powers, ruining all of the berry plants and the new growth at the water’s edge.

With no other choices left, Ushijima starts to transform into his wyvern. He hopes it’ll be enough to battle Tendo, or at least begin to start putting out a large number of the flames.

Once he’s fully transformed, the large wyvern dives into the river before reemerging, trying to splash the flames out as you begin firing at Tendo. Ushijima’s wyvern lets out a roar as he dives at Tendo, his green eyes focusing on the smaller figure of the light fairy.

As Ushijima’s wings carry him around, Tendo gets slightly distracted from you, giving you the chance to aim a little more clearly at the evil light fairy. As quick as one of your light beams, a silent arrow flies across the sky, ripping through one of Ushijima’s wings.

The wyvern falls with an ear-piercing screech, and you suddenly regain control of your powers when you realize Ushijima’s body crashed from the sky and onto the ground. Standing downriver is a tall dark elf, holding an elegantly crafted obsidian bow with an evil grin on his face.

Ushijima had no other choice than to morph back into his human form, the poison arrow sticking straight out of his shoulder. Oikawa appears next to Tendo while you start running over to Ushijima, power and elegance hanging in the air at the dark elf king’s presence.

Ushijima rolls over with a groan and manages to cough out, “Don’t worry about me, Y/n, just defeat them.” Your heart breaks at the battered sight of Ushijima in front of you, his body broken, bruised, and bloody.

It was at that moment, you knew. Ushijima was no longer just someone letting you live with him, helping you out, or even just a caretaker for you. You were completely, utterly, and helplessly in love with Ushijima Wakatoshi.

With Ushijima’s go ahead, you turn around, light flaring at your palms as your eyes begin to glow gold. A loud scream leaves your lips as you charge at Oikawa and Tendo, light flashing from your palms as you aim the beams at the two men.

In a few quick movements, you have made a fire ring around Oikawa, the flames lapping tall against the sky as you turn to face Tendo. The light fairy is just looking at you smugly, but his smile falters when he hears Ushijima’s delirious call through the crackle of the fire, “T-Tendo?”

A look of horror appears on Tendo’s face as he takes in the raging fire around him and his gaze lands on Ushijima. In a few large strides, Tendo is in front of Ushijima and says, “Oh my gosh, Wakatoshi, what happened to you? What happened to me?”

Ushijima groans as Tendo helps him sit up and he blinks hazily at the redhead, the poison from Oikawa’s arrow starting to pump throughout his blood. It takes a moment for Ushijima to respond before he manages, “Tendo… you, you gave into Oikawa, you were fighting us...”

While Tendo tries to move Ushijima out of the fight, you step through the circle of blazing fire to be met face to face with Oikawa. With a snarl on your lips you sneer, “So this is the Dark Elf King Oikawa, huh?”

Oikawa just smiles back at you, reaching behind him to grab another poison arrow from his quiver as he says, “My, my. That red-headed light fairy wasn’t wrong when he said you had a strong will.”

You spit on the ground next to him, jutting your chin out you spew, “Pathetic. I expected more from you, Oikawa Tooru.”

The dark elf king just smiles maniacally at you, his brown locks of hair wavering from the heat of the fire, as he grabs the arrow from his quiver, quickly trying to catch it on the string of his bow.

However, you waste no time, raising your hands in front of you, you blast him into a solid tree trunk behind him. Oikawa’s hands drop both the bow and the arrows as he flies through the air, his back cracking against the firm wood behind him.

You find it within you to will the fires around you to calm, bringing the flames even with the forest floor before the embers burn out. As you step out of the ring of embers, you see Oikawa knocked unconscious against the base of a tree trunk.

Your (colored) eyes catch onto Tendo’s figure tending to Ushijima, and you go to scream at him to get away when you realize that your fellow light fairy is helping Ushijima.

You jog over to him, eyes frantically scanning over Ushijima’s large figure as you pant out, “Watch over Oikawa, I need to run to the shack and get some rope to tie him up.”

Tendo just nods as you take off sprinting, your legs carrying you toward the small house you had learned to call home. You barely register arriving at the house, finding the rope, and even making it back to the clearing where the three men were at.

You give the rope to Tendo to restrain the unconscious Oikawa as you kneel beside Ushijima, who was flickering in and out of consciousness. You start panicking, and you can feel the anxiety bubbling in your chest as you start to shake Ushijima, trying to keep him awake.

A sob of, “Please stay awake, Toshi. I grabbed an elixir from the medicine drawer when I ran back to the house. Please wake up!” Tears begin streaming down your face as your hands shakily fumble with the small glass bottle.

You call to Tendo, “Please help me get him against a tree so I can get this in his mouth!” Tendo had just finished tying up Oikawa before he returned to your side, helping you haul the large frame of Ushijima over to a tree, leaning him up against the trunk gently.

With your shaky hands, you pop the lid off of the elixir, allowing the mouth of the bottle to press against Ushijima’s lips as you pour the purple liquid onto his tongue. When the bottle is empty you pull away, your vision blurring as you gaze at the battered form of the man you had come to love.

A light cough leaves Ushijima’s throat, catching your attention before you’re hovering over him again, worrying etched in your features. With hazy eyes, he tries to focus on you as he asks, “Y/n? What happened? Where are we?”

A wavering sigh leaves your lips as you cup his face in your hands and you whisper, “You got shot by a poison arrow from Oikawa, Tendo’s back to himself. We are just outside of the river, I had to give you a potion to stop the poison from spreading.”

Ushijima doesn’t say anything, just slightly nods in your hands before his eyes close for a moment. Another cry leaves your lips as your hands tilt his face toward your own, your eyes scanning over his body rapidly, searching for any other major injuries.

You notice Tendo had managed to pull the arrow out, and as you take in Ushijima’s form, simply covered in a ripped up tank top and a pair of pants, covered in sweat, dirt, and blood, you can’t help but think it’s the most beautiful he’s ever looked.

“Please,” you whimper as you gently turn his face back and forth in your hands, tears streaming down your cheeks, “Please stay with me, Toshi.”

Tendo steps forward and says, “I think he’s just unconscious, I can carry him back to the shack if you want to stay here with Oikawa, I can bring back the cart to haul him to the Kingdom of the Griffins.”

You nod as you release your grip from his face, muffling your cries as you walk over to the tied-up form of Oikawa, and you can’t stand to see Tendo haul Ushijima’s body away.

You sit on the ground in front of Oikawa as you wait for Tendo to return, wincing in pain as you realize how beat up you actually were. Twenty or so minutes go by until you hear the sound of a horse’s hooves and a cart trailing behind it.

You turn to see Tendo driving Ushijima’s small cart and you smile when you realize Tendo had grabbed some chains too. You help the red-headed light fairy load up the unconscious body of Oikawa, helping his chain down the limbs of the dark elf.

A small smile sits on your lips as you look at Tendo and say, “Thank you, Tendo. I’m Y/n, I have been with Ushijima for a few months now. I appreciate your help, and it’s an honor to meet you.”

Tendo grabs your shoulder lightly with his own grin as he says, “No, thank you. I don’t know how Wakatoshi would have survived without me, and you have pushed him this far. The least I can do is take Oikawa to Prince Daichi’s palace, they can detain him there.”

You nod as the tall man jumps into the driver’s seat of the cart, calling over his shoulder, “The trip will take me a few days, I should be back in a week or so. The nearest town is about a half a day’s walk away from here if you need anything. Take care of Wakatoshi while I’m gone.”

You wave to Tendo’s disappearing figure as you begin your own trek back to the small house. You half limp, half walk back to the shack, your pace picking up when you realize Ushijima was left alone while you and Temdo dealt with Oikawa.

When you manage to make it through the front door, you stumble toward the bedroom. You burst into the room to see Ushijima peacefully resting on top of the covers.

You realize he’s in no immediate danger, so you take the time to strip out of your dirty clothes and give yourself a quick scrub down. Afterward, you carefully treat the wounds you can reach before changing into one of Ushijima’s large shirts and a pair of shorts.

Once you are clean and somewhat comfortable, you sit down next to Ushijima, taking a clean and damp washcloth to clean his skin. You wipe everything you can reach without having to remove any clothing, as you couldn’t lift his large form yourself.

You don’t notice the tears slipping down your cheeks until a warm and rough hand on your cheek alerts you. Ushijima is staring at you with half-lidded eyes as he mumbles, “You are so beautiful.”

A broken laugh leaves your lips as you lean into his touch, closing your eyes at the feeling of him being warm and alive next to you. Ushijima’s green eyes glow with love as he scans over your features.

He looks at the curve of your cheek under his palm, he looks at the soft gleam in your eye when you gaze at him, and he looks at the small smile settling on your lips because he’s still with you.

Ushijima allows his hand to travel from cupping your cheek to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your (colored) locks of hair as he slowly sits up. You shift closer to him as he moves to lean his back against the headboard of the bed, and you gently sit on his lap as your faces near each other.

You lock eyes with the green-eyed wyvern morphling in front of you, and you can’t help the butterflies in your stomach as he observes you. Ushijima moves his other hand to rest on the lower part of your neck, pushing your body to allow your forehead to rest against his own.

The two of you are silent in that moment, sitting together, breathing together, living together, and for each other. Ushijima can’t help the way his eyes flick from your own to your lips, but he finds himself looking back into your eyes with complete and utter adoration.

His plump lips part slightly as he whispers, “You have my heart, Y/n. You have every part of me and my soul. I give myself to you, Y/n. I love you.”

A bright and blinding smile breaks out across your face as you press your forehead closer to his, and your eyes shut with tears of joy as you rest your hands on his broad shoulders.

Ushijima stays silent as he watches you, not an ounce of nervousness or care in the world for what he just said. He couldn’t be afraid when he just barely beat death, and he had you sitting on his lap, smiling at him.

He thought your smile was as bright as any light ray would have shined, and he feels his heart skip a beat when you open your mouth and reply, “I love you too, Toshi. You have my heart, my soul, and my body. I am yours.”

Ushijima gives you a breathtaking smile as he looks at you, brushing his nose against yours slightly as he basks in what he knows now to be your love for him.

You turn your head slightly, your heart beating faster when you take a glance at his mouth, and Ushijima quickly understands.

Ushijima uses the hand tangled in your hair to gently tip your head, tilting his own face slightly to the side as he leans into your touch. In a final bold move, Ushijima brushes his lips against your own parted ones.

You could feel your heart jump in your chest as your lips finally connect with Ushijima’s, a soft and inaudible gasp escaping your throat as you move your mouth against his own.

Ushijima melts in your touch, and he can’t help but crave the way you taste and feel against his mouth. Your kiss is slow, delicate, and everything he’s ever dreamed it to be and more.

Your lips seem to move in perfect rhythm with his own, and you let one hand smooth up Ushijima’s neck to run your fingers through his short locks of olive hair. Ushijima lets the kiss stay slow and wanting, never pushing you any further than you wanted to go.

You were addicted to the way his mouth tasted against your own, and despite the faint tang of blood, you knew he was everything you had ever wanted. You were almost sad when Ushijima started to pull away, but that feeling soon left when you saw the way he looked at you.

Those green eyes you had fallen in love with shined with adoration, and the smile on his lips told you that you were the reason behind it. You almost flush under the intensity of his gaze, so you lean forward again, chest heaving, to press a gentle and slow kiss to his lips.

Ushijima grunts softly at your movement, causing you to pull away rapidly when you realized your hand had slipped down to where the arrow had entered his shoulder.

You shift in his lap as you stutter out, “I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-” “It’s alright, my love,” Ushijima says softly, cupping your face again and rubbing his thumb under your eye in small circles.

You feel your heart swell at the sweet pet name and you smile down at him and whisper, “I love you, Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

He smiles back at you and replies, “And I, you.”

Tags: @mortedeveles @haikyuutothetop @miatsubaki23 @pocky-writes

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theevilmrdork · 2 years

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have some Griskin worldbuilding! using past tense because a lot of this stuff would be defunct once they die :’)

Being keepers of the dead, they were actually quite low-energy compared to the rest of the Glade. Their clothes consisted of white or pastel bathrobes, and many wore slippers (though some still chose to remain barefoot). They were ghost-like even before their untimely deaths, their snores sounding like the eerie whistling of wind through hollow trees, skin pale blue and nose markings often faded.

Those who were the most magically gifted with the tribe’s chosen element - electricity - made a constant “humming” noise as long as they had enough to cast a spell, while having a lot of magic stored up would make their skin glow. Their king in particular was always an example of both these concepts.

Many of their ritual spells and celebrations involved singing as a group, with the full moon being their most common subject. Dancing, however, was rare. It was often considered too high energy and difficult, which made it harder for Griskin to participate in the affairs of other tribes. They open their spiral doors by holding a long and specific note.

Less commonly, dreams were also a part of certain spells. These consisted of tribe members sleeping in a circle in order to be in the same dream, believing that this would enhance their power. Teensies who communed with Polokus were often Griskin.

Children born to the tribe usually learned to sing or hum long before they could speak, with different families having their own preferred “first songs”. Children were encouraged to make up new songs with other kids in order to strengthen their voices. This unfortunately meant that those who were tone deaf, didn’t want to, or outright couldn’t sing were looked down on and ostracized.

They traded often with the Murkin, who coveted the glowing mushrooms that grew in the Land of the Livid Dead for both the safety they offer and their magical properties. In exchange, they’d recieve regular mushrooms and ingredients. Friends would also occasionally trade songs for dances in either groups or pairs.

After the Griskin died, rumors have popped up that some managed to escape their afterlives by pleading with the Nymph of the Sea of Serendipity to turn them into Teenseas in exchange for their electrical magic. These are referred to as Siren Teenseas, thought to gather and sing like they used to on land. No one can agree on whether they live in shallow or deep water. There is also no proof that they exist in the first place, Annetta Fish refusing to confirm or deny.

Griskin who were still babies when they died have small blue flame-like spirits, appearing similar to will’o’wisps. Similar to fairies, they will one day metamorphize into smaller versions of adults before slowly growing into the correct size.

No one is entirely sure why this is the case... And all fear that there will never be another generation of Griskin, living or dead.

Rumors circulated by other tribes about Griskin include: -They were always dead (false) -They could raise the dead (false, they always let the dead rest) -A Griskin is to blame for the First King’s undeath (false, read above) -They could go into ghost form at will (false, this could only be done via spell) -Rituals that involved sleeping could summon small-scale Nightmares (false) -They work with the Livid Dead (false, the two factions would just live around each other) -They escort and/or judge the souls of the dead (false, this is likely Polokus’ job) -Poison was made from the mushrooms supplied to them by the Murkins (half-true, depends on who is asked) -Dark magic was born from them (false, it came from the First Nightmare, Jano)

#{ i just suddenly had SO many thoughts; oops XD }#{ maybe ill draw a living griskin }#rayman #headcanons #chex answers

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hollyhomburg · 4 years

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Of Fire And Love (Pt.5)

(Dragon! Yoongi x Human! Reader) (????? Jungkook, Dragon! Hoseok) (Sorcerer! Seokjin x Human! Taehyung) (Fairy! Jimin x Dragon! Namjoon)

Summary: When Dragon Yoongi finds baby Jungkook in the wreckage of a house he burned down, he can’t bring himself to kill the child. Months after someone drops a baby at your door, you start to notice something- or someone, lurking at the edge of the woods.

Pairings: Dragon! Yoongi x Human! Reader, ????? Jungkook, Dragon! Hoseok, Sorcerer! Seokjin x Human! Taehyung,

W/c: 18.6k

Warnings/Tags: visceral violent death scenes, gore, blood, near character death, morbid, violence, referenced parental death, familial fluff, touch starved characters, brief smut, discussions of Aging/mortality, mentions of War, Namgi have a Lil fight in this,

Song rec: Agust D- Burn it,

A/N: well here it is! the big reveal! I will be posting a short thing probably explaining the end of this and the backstory of the Seokjins family a little more as well as a collection of all of the bits that foreshadowed the ending of this chapter! This is the second to last part! and the next part will probably be just as long as this and won’t be posted for a little while.

Series Masterlist

- Yoongi is flying back when it happens and almost falters. Dipping in the air as the wind goes out from underneath his wings and a stabbing pain lights just underneath his heart. After being with his mate for so long it almost feels like he’s the one who was hurt not you.

- It only knocks him out of the sky for a second before he’s righting himself in the air. And the panic takes hold- suddenly sure that something is wrong- terribly earth tilting wrong. He summons all the strength he has in him and hurls himself through the sky as quick as he can. Yoongi has never flown faster in his life.

- Jungkook is only a kid, he can’t keep you alive. You’d only just begun to teach him how to heal. Even as Hoseok shifts back to human form- the attacker who stabbed you quickly dispatched by his teeth. Somehow Jungkook’s red scarf ends up pressed to your wound, pressing down on it with all of his weight.

- “That’s good Koo- just like that.” you gently instruct. You’re barely alive by the time that Yoongi gets back, your breathing heavy and labored. Though Jungkook has bound around the wound, you’re half-conscious. Yoongi swoops in, shifting just in time to hurl himself through the front door cracking part of the frame with his shoulders.

- He’s steely, even as his hands shake when he touches your pale face. You pass out with Yoongi’s name on your tongue- staying awake just long enough to see that he’s here, that your children have him to protect them, before a tidal wave of pain pulls you under. Yoongi takes one look around at the house, the dead men- feeling horror well up in him. Their place of safety, of softness and love, violated like this.

- He can hear and smell the ones that remain in the woods, the sluggish pull of their heartbeats as they die. And he knows the hairs on the backs of their necks are standing up as his anger grows. His fingers are black-tipped claws by his side- unable to resist the semi-shift- aching to sink into the rage that demands the world to sate it. Yoongi cannot and will not let this go unpunished.

- But you’re still there dying on the floor, and the choice is easy. (When it comes down to it- Yoongi will always choose you) For you Yoongi will easily surrender this revenge. Somewhere in the house Yoongi smells fire. But he doesn’t care burn it all to the ground. Every happy memory with it too- everything. If it all ends like this- Yoongi can’t bear it.

- But he needs too- for the two small faces that he loves more than anything in the world- looking at him like he holds all the answers. Hoseok’s face is wet with tears and blood when he tilts his face up, blinking them away furiously. His voice shakes when he instructs them. “Jungkook I’m going to shift and then you and Hobi are going to put her on my back and fly with me” he touches Jungkook’s arm and Jungkook turns his tear-filled eyes to his father

- “I need you to be strong fledgling, I need you to hold her there and make sure she doesn’t fall off when we fly because tying her in will take too much time.” Yoongi touches Hoseok’s face- wiping away the blood on his mouth with a thumb. “Hoseok- this will be a long flight so keep up just above me so I can break the wind for you.”

- “If you can’t I’m going to-“ Hoseok squares his little shoulders, he’s only 15- and yet he meets Yoongi’s gaze, his resolve steely as he pushes himself up, nodding. “if I lose you don’t worry I’ll catch up. I can follow your scent. If I fall back keep going.”

- Yoongi had never imagined- that the trauma he’d been through as a child could have affected him in this way but Hoseok is steady as a rock in a stream. Pride wells up in him- smothered by the panic.

- They fly through the rain and all through the night, Jungkook clenches Yoongi’s back with his thighs and keeps you on his back, putting as much pressure on your wound as he can with his arms around your waist.

- Hoseok is so exhausted and barely managing to stay airborne in his little red dragon form, dipping with every strong gust of wind. His ears are better at hearing now than when he’s in human form. And He listens for every ragged breath- every uneven thudding heartbeat of yours that slows with the passing hours. like a timer counting down the moments until everything will have been for naught. Hoseok pushes himself harder, his aching wings protesting with each flap.

- Jungkook’s thighs and front are stained with your blood, and it makes Yoongi’s scaly back slippery and hard to grip with his trembling thighs, especially when the rain starts up. The terror keeps Jungkook awake and sheer will power keeps his muscles from giving out.

- Back at your manor house a hush settles over the woods, the men deep in the belly of your castle. As they raid Yoongi’s hoard- the minor blaze in the house put out. They’re merry at the prospect of so much gold but yet subdued at the men they lost today. their lives a small price to pay for the fortune that would make them as good as princes in their country.

- How selfish dragon kind where for hogging all of this wealth- not only did they have control of all of the fertile land in the world- but they also had 90% of the world’s gold. The least they can do is share. They raid Yoongi’s wine stores too. filling golden chalices with the dark red liquid.

- A hush settles over the woods as the mist starts to gather- but the calm won’t be there- not for long. They’re so drunk- they don’t realize the way that it sinks in through the windows with gentle clawed fingers, creeping in through the hallways and down to the belly of the manor house. a mist thicker than any you could cut. They only have a few moments- their drunken and gold-hungry gaze focusing on the house- full of mist- before they hear it- a brief humming of fairy wings.

- Jimin hits them with a savage stab- the flowers growing through one of their chests with a savage crack- roots splitting his sternum with a burst of red flowers. The roots sprouting around the edge of Jimin’s knife. Gone are the usual delicate features from the fairy, his face almost more horrifying than the sight of their dead comrade falling to the floor. The chrysanthemums blooming in his eyes, mushrooms budding along his spine, decomposing before their very eyes.

- What once was Jimin's cheekbones is now webbed black- his muscles sunken in and woven like a spider, his fangs hooked and buglike. His eyes glowing a horrifying red. His hands have more fingers than seem possible- more like a spider than a human. He dispatches the rest of them easily, leaving only one, pressing him close up against a wall. The man pisses himself, feeling the vines constrict around his whole body- but not killing him- not yet.

- Jimin voice is a low croon as he drags his knife down his cheek, “now- would you like to tell me what you’ve done with my family? Or should I let my flowers do their job?” a massive head sinks out of the fog, claws clicking on the marble floors, his fangs long- blue fire leering deep in Namjoon’s mouth as he opens his mouth- the man lets out a whimper.

- He falls away like petals in the wind when Jimin wills it. Wiping his knife of the blood on his thigh and sheathing it in a simple movement. He’s thinking about seeing Seokjin again after all these years. If you’d really been as injured as they said you where- if they’d really seen Yoongi fly away with you, Jungkook and Hobi in toe- then Seokjin’s is the only place you could be heading too. All at once- the spider face gone with Jimin’s rage. He hadn’t thought- only smelled your blood in the woods and acted.

- Namjoon nudges the edge of one of the men the flowers wilting as he dies. There isn’t a hit of remorse in his face. They’d found the puddle of your blood in the entryway after all. “You know this is sort of like Instant compost.”

- Jimin snorts shoving at his head lovingly. “You’re terrible” but he keeps his fingers tangled in his dragon's hair. “Let's get out of here” but before he leaves. He nudges one of them again, and a scroll falls out of their pocket, Namjoon stoops to pick it up. Eyes widening when he reads the first line.

- “We need to call the council- this can’t wait.”

- It’s early morning the next day when Yoongi finally touches down at the one person who could save you from the brink of death- Seokjin.

- No one is quite sure how old Yoongi is. But the last sorcerer left in the world is definitely older. The two are old friends even if it’s been more than a decade since they saw each other. But then again, Seokjin doesn’t really process time the way a normal person does- at least not when it comes to friendship.

- So it doesn’t feel like a reunion after a long time when Yoongi crashes down in the lawn in front of Seokjin’s castle. It feels more like a friend that’s popped in for tea at an unbecoming hour. But Yoongi’s never been good with manners and at the age he is, Seokjin can’t really expect him to change.

- It’s more clumsily then he’s ever seen him land. He even rips up the sod too- a great big skid mark all across Seokjin’s grass. Oh well, at least he hadn’t trashed the garden that Seokjin had looked after for the better part of the last millennia. He only slightly disturbs his morning coffee on his patio. Seokjin barely lifts an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of his friend.

- After all- Seokjin had felt him coming. Seokjin knows (almost) everything.

- The thing that does surprise him however, is the shouting- Jungkook slides off his back with you barely supported in his arms. That certainly surprises him a great deal. The way the youth sobs and looks at Yoongi- chanting “dad- dad please-“ Yoongi shifts to carry you. Scooping you up from the boy who looks half way to passing out. A smaller red dragon with fluffy feathers lands sloppily, crabbing to the left at the last moment and crashing into a cypress tree and nearly snapping it in half.

- He gives a muted grumble to let everyone know he’s fine- just tired, even as he drags himself over to the group his tail dragging. Yoongi and Jungkook carry you in a panicked dash. Hoseok following Too tired to shift back to human but running next to them. That has Seokjin straightening up, getting out of his chair, his teacup clattering the floor in a crash, running over to meet them. Seokjin helps Yoongi with your weight- “Please save her Jin- I can’t live without her.”

- Seokjin’s hands touch your abdomen with purpose, coming away red, your blood cold. “Yoongi she’s bare-“

- “Jin” Yoongi’s voice breaks, his lower lip quivering, every muscle in his body holding you gently, as close as he can without hurting you. Anything to keep you close for a few more moments. Jin doesn’t pause, doesn’t ask. He just rushes the four of you inside the small castle to his study.

- The glass double doors blow open from an unseen force before they enter- tables and chairs and books flying this way and that clearing their path. The crowded table clears with a flick of his wrist too. A hidden force sending everything flying back onto its proper place on the shelf. If he weren’t so terrified Jungkook would find it in himself to be awed- but as it is; all he can feel is scared.

- Yoongi lays you as gently as he can on the table- your head lolling. Seokjin starts spitting words in a frantic language, his hands glowing a soft violet color as Yoongi tears at your dress- opening it up around the wound.

- This is different than Jimin's plant magic, the wordless sort of magic that has the world leaning in- no- Seokjin’s magic makes the world stop in place and turn around him. Every inch of intent spoken by his mouth an order that reality will bow too. It’s jaw-dropping to see,

- Jungkook stands by the door until Hobi pulls him out of it, teeth ripping into the back of his shirt as he moves Jungkook like a mother cat would a kitten. He’s a good older brother- and he doesn’t think that you’d want either of them to see this. Especially when Seokjin starts to undress you- with only a medical like air in mind his movements quick and efficient meant to expose more of the wound.

- It takes Jin almost another full day to heal you to the best of his abilities and even then the rest is up to you. Seokjin works through the night and through all of it, Yoongi sits by your bedside, his forehead pressed to yours through the entire healing process. Offering his strength when Seokjin needs it. A hand on his shoulders sometimes, not to offer to comfort but to take Yoongi’s energy- his lifeblood- because alone Seokjin doesn’t have enough power for this.

- Seokjin’s drains the energy out of him to the point where he fears taking anymore. Yoongi slumped next to you, keeping himself in the chair by sheer force of will, whispering into your ear your cheeks start to pink up again slowly, your breath coming infrequently- but in time with the pulse of Seokjin’s magic.

- “Don’t you dare go on me yet Y/n, I haven’t had nearly enough time with you, not by a long shot” he holds your hand- he only ever wanted to do that- to hold your hands for the rest of time. However much time he had with you- he had always thought that would be enough- but now he realizes it isn’t. He’d never get enough time with you, not if you were by his side for 100 or 500 years.

- You never get enough time with the ones you love. Whether you’re immortal or mortal, no stretch of time is adequate. Even if you’re both there to witness the death of the cosmos and all else that lingers. Yoongi wants more- he needs more time with you.

- Both of your sons sit outside the room, Jungkook listing into Hobi once he gets too tired to stay awake. “I’ll wake you if there’s any news Kookie” And even though Hobi’s tired from flying he just can’t close his eyes until he knows if he’s lost his mom again.

- Jungkook dozes, and Hoseok picks a spot on the tapestry that hangs on the opposite wall and doesn’t look away. Jungkook lying across his lap- one of Hoseok’s hands embedded deep in his chocolate locks. Holding onto him like he’s worried Jungkook is going to slip away too.

- “I killed someone Hobi- I- I killed someone,” he says, late into the afternoon when the orange light seeps through the window at the end of the hall. Hoseok blinks as he looks down at Jungkook- he hadn’t realized the younger had woken. A Geometric shape of orange light falls across Jungkook’s Face. His cheekbones suddenly present- all that made him baby faced fallen away in a single day, the bags under his eyes hallow bruises.

- The way Jungkook says it- he says it like it means something. Like it Wasn’t just an act of desperation and an act of trying to live. To keep going. Hoseok has to fight to keep his voice steady. “Do you hate me?” his hand fists in the front of Jungkook’s shirt over his heart. Covering a tiny fleck of blood with his closed fist. “I killed people too Jungkook, do you hate me?”

- Hoseok realizes with a start- that he’s killed more people than Jungkook- and can’t navigate his way back through the terror of the last few hours to count how many men had fallen under his tooth and claw. Hoseok tells himself that they had too- and believes it. After all- if they hadn’t it would mean the three of you lying dead on the floor of your entryway.

- Hoseok doesn’t want to think about what Yoongi would have done if he’d come home to that. He doesn’t think that his father’s rage would have been sated by the whole world on fire. He lets himself imagine it for a moment. The human world- swallowed in flames, everything burning. Jungkook reaches up and rubs away at the smoke curling over Hoseok’s chin, a juvenile imitation of rage- of the fire that Hoseok isn’t capable of yet. “Do you hate me Jungkook?”

- Jungkook looks stricken with the very idea of it, he laces his hand with Hoseok’s over his heart and curls up around him so that Jungkook can press his face into Hoseok’s side. Hiding his face and his tears as he fights to stay calm- not to break all over his soulmates lap- even if he’s been breaking since he put his sword through that man in your home hours ago.

- “I could never hate you Hobi.”

- Hoseok wishes he could feel more like Jungkook but he doesn’t. Sure he’s afraid, but the terror hovers below a steely calm that he can’t think through. He’s lost his mom before, and he can’t lose you too, doesn’t want to lose his mom again. But he won’t fall apart until he knows. Because If he fell apart again- he’s not sure that even Jungkook could bring him back.

- It takes until the next evening for the trauma-induced calm to end. Jungkook next to him asleep again, but Hoseok hasn’t managed to close his eyes. And when he does for only a few minutes, images of you lie behind his eyelids.

- The countless times you’d brushed through his feathers or ruffled his hair, how you’d excitedly congratulated him and Jungkook with every little bit of things they’d brought home. The cross look on your face, hands on your hips, whenever they came home more bruised and battered than usual. All of that gone in a day-

- A memory from when he would wake as a child in your mountain home is what makes Hoseok fall apart. the first time he’d ever woken up feeling safe after his parents died. Jungkook asleep beside him, to the sound of your soft humming as you hovered over the stove, Yoongi’s dark wing shielding Jungkook and Hoseok from the light of morning.

- But when Hobi had looked, he’d found Yoongi’s neck stretched out so that he could lay it down next to you while you worked. And whenever you’d finish with a task you’d reach over to scratch up and down his cheek. And Hoseok could feel the pleasant shiver and happiness all around him.

- He remembers making a noise, and you turn to him. your hair falling all around your face free from the braid you usually bound it in when you slept. Hushing him softly, ‘you can go back to sleep okay? Breakfast will be done in a moment little-honey’

- It’s when the memories hit him that He starts to cry, to hyperventilate. He keeps clutching Jungkook’s hand the whole time. When Jungkook wakes they hold onto each other. The younger pulling him in and reversing their positions. Strengthening the moment Hoseok needs him. And Hoseok’s world narrows down to just Jungkook.

- Finally, just after sunrise, Seokjin pokes his head out of the study and Hobi straightens up. He’s already magiced the table into a bed- and he’s left Yoongi curled up around you sleeping soundly- a quick calming spell to let his friend recuperate after the last day- Seokjin is sure he would have fallen asleep if he hadn’t put that spell on him. They’ll move you to an actual bed when yoongi wakes.

- At the sound of the door opening Jungkook jerks barely catching himself before he crashes into the floor, blinks owlishly at the sudden movement. Seokjin’s greeting dying in his throat. Truthfully, Seokjin doesn’t remember being that young and it’s kind of strange. To be confronted with such youth after almost a full year on his own with no-one to talk too.

- They spill over themselves in an effort to get in the room “is she okay- is mom gonna live is she gonna-“ suddenly Seokjin finds himself inundated with two very concerned teenagers, clutching at the edge of his dark purple dressing-gown- he hadn’t even bothered to change from his pajamas. “I’ve healed her wounds- but the rest is up to her” both of them sigh and then- none to surprisingly, burst into tears and cling to Seokjin who awkwardly pats them on the back.

- Jesus Christ- they haven’t even told him their names yet and already they’re tripping over themselves to thank him. “Can we see her and dad?” Seokjin sighs heavily, “I think it’s probably better to give them some space, your father and mother need to rest- why don’t you come with me so we can fix some food for you? And also do some introducing- your parents really didn’t teach you any manners did they? Luckily I’m good at that.” Because if there’s one thing that's better than a spell at fixing sorrow, then its food.

- Seokjin starts jauntily down the hallway as Hoseok and Jungkook shoot each other a confused glance, suddenly both dubious and a little terrified by the sorcerer “Well come on- out with it what are your names little menaces?”

- When you wake, almost a full week after the attack, Yoongi is sat by your bedside holding your hand looking haggard and unkempt. He’s hardly moved all this time. Only changed and washed up because Seokjin had bothered him too- and left Hobi and Jungkook to watch over you for a moment, or to tuck the boys in and made sure they’ve eaten something. they’ve been so grown up the last few days. after the first day when-

- a tangled mess of both of them in the bed, both of them woken to yoongi coming into their room, wetness on his cheeks, touching their soft heads as he cried- thanking the gods and all the goodness in the world that they hadn’t been hurt too. Hoseok blinking awake, whispering “dad?” into the open air which had made Yoongi break- his chest heaving.

- And Hoseok- little Hoseok- knowing to reach up to wrap his arms around his father because that’s what he needed. To scent-mark his children and make sure they knew he was there- that he wouldn't be leaving. Jungkook has always been a deep sleeper hadn’t even woken.

- but Hoseok had pushed at yoongi after a moment. “go- I know you want to sit next to mom. it’s okay, I’ll make sure Jungkook and I eat after he wakes up- you don't have to worry about us I'll- I’ll make sure we’re doing what she’d want us to be doing.”

- like washing their clothes and making sure they bathed and detangled their hair and made their beds in the morning. But also- that they were looking after each other too. making sure neither of them felt alone or uncared for- for too long. in all your years parenting- you’ve always emphasized being there for each other- and Hoseok and Jungkook won’t let you down now. they’re amazing in Yoongi’s eyes. Already grown up enough to understand that yoongi is as in need of as much comfort as they are.

- And In all your time raising Jungkook and Hoseok together you have never seen Yoongi cry. But when you open your eyes and peer up at him Yoongi bursts into tears. looking tired but alive with a lingering ache in your stomach that seems to hold you down to the plush bed with a vengeance. His long fingers touching your cheeks, pulling himself closer to you.

- Yoongi sobs out your name, pressing his forehead against yours when you whisper out his name, your hands weekly coming up to grab onto him- you’re so tired- so weak and uncoordinated but still- you can’t bear to have him even an inch from you. “I was so scared my love, but now you’re safe and healing. Thank the gods you’re alive.”

- “I’m not a god but thanks for the high praise,” says a stranger from the door, his black hair shot through with silver streaks. His endlessly mirthful purple eyes haunting in the half-light of the bedroom. The stranger wipes his hands off with a cloth. But the glowing stone- set into the space just above his collar bones, glowing a light purple under a thin layer of skin, tell you enough about who this must be.

- He does smile kindly, and you can already see his appraising eyes measuring your condition. “I’m Seokjin- I’m the person who saved your life” you give a weak smile in return. “Yoongi’s told me all about you and though I’d prefer it if we hadn’t met this way I’m eternally thankful. Thank you Seokjin, for allowing me to stay with my family.”

- You turn to Yoongi, even now he can see how exhausted you are, “how are you feeling- do you want some water- some food my darling?” You’re about to say no, that you only want to go back to sleep when you jolt up. Your parental instincts cut through your haze and a bone-chilling panic suddenly seizing you.

- Yoongi’s hands on both your shoulders to keep you in the bed- “oh my god the kids- are they alright are they-“ Jungkook and Hoseok peer out from behind Seokjin’s back, looking scared and restraining themselves from coming too close. But very much alive and uninjured. They hover until Yoongi gestures that it’s okay for them to come closer- that they won’t hurt you.

- Both Hoseok and Jungkook immediately start crying and hurl themselves onto your bed. Hobi gets so distressed that he actually shifts and starts scent marking you like a cat. One of his legs wiping out to push Seokjin away unintentionally. He is a little big now- it feels more like an extraordinarily large puppy has taken up half the space in your bed.

- “Hey! Rude!” Seokjin shouts but lets himself be moved. The big bed creaks and sags as Hoseok sets himself firmly over the top portion of it. His warm underbelly curled around your head, his feathers tickling your face as he nuzzles in close, gently and slowly. Jungkook settles on your side, his hands locked in a death grip around your shoulders you weekly bring up a hand to card it through his hair.

- “Boys! Be careful of her side! She’s still healing.” But you give him a look over Jungkook’s shoulder, a little teary-eyed yourself but smiling- the smile that Yoongi would die for would tear apart the world for.

- “Yoongi told me how brave the two of you were flying all this way to help me Hobi, and keeping me on his back Kookie. I’m so proud of both of you.” Jungkook lets himself pull back a little “Really?”

- “Yes! you were so so brave!” you even scratch a little under Hobi’s chin, and he lets out a little content dragon noise and snuggles closer. Jungkook lets out his first even breath in days. Hoseok too- both of them crying those easy tears of relief in your arms. “You’re so brave boys, It’s okay- I’m okay now- you don’t have to be scared anymore.”

- As he listens to you reassure your children and for the first time, Yoongi notices the smile lines by your mouth, a single grey hair starting to glitter along your hairline. The signs of aging that he never noticed before, and goes quiet, suddenly still.

- “Thank you” your eyes are tear-filled as you look up at Seokjin, your hands brushing over both your son's heads, so slow and lingering. like you thought you’d never get the chance to do it again- or had, and now were pausing to savor every moment. “Really Seokjin- I can’t thank you enough- I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

-Seokjin looks bashful, a stiff blush climbing from the back of his neck. And he’s stuttering when he talks- “it’s really not my doing- not most of it anyway- I mean- healing you was my doing but you never would have survived if it hadn’t been for this.”

- Seokjin fingers the cloth in his hands, darker red now than it was before. The four of you straighten up, suddenly confused. Jungkook lifts his head from your shoulder, looking perplexed, “My scarf? My scarf saved her?” Jungkook asks,

- “Not the scarf- but the protection charm on it” Seokjin fingers the edge of it- which hasn’t frayed in all this time. How had you never realized it? over 13 years old and still it’s never lost its color. “It’s old magic- the kind of magic I haven’t seen in a long time. It will protect whatever it covers from harm. And in your case it kept your organs from shutting down before you got here. If it hadn’t been for this wrapped around your waist you would have died in minutes not hours.”

- Seokjin looks at Yoongi, his lower lip quivering suddenly looking betrayed. “You- you should have told me- if you’d seen my sister you should have told me it’s been hundreds of years Yoongi- you know how much I want to see my family so- how could you.”

- “I didn’t- Seokjin I didn’t see her- the scarf was with Jungkook when I found him.” Jungkook looks up abruptly from the bed; Hoseok cocks his head in curiosity. “When you found me?” Jungkook looks surprised for a second before he straightens up. “No- I knew that I knew that I wasn’t yours- but- I always thought- the scarf was the first thing you gave me- that’s why it was so special.”

- Hoseok’s shifts shaking his head his curls bouncing. leaning up against the headboard pulling Jungkook up to sit with him. Until the three of you are sitting up. “I didn’t know- I always thought-“ Hoseok looks at you, and you shake your head. “Then if you’re not- where are Jungkook’s biological-“

- Yoongi puts his head in his hands, leaning up against the edge of your bed. gritting his teeth, “Now isn’t the time for that conversation.” Yoongi isn’t ready and won’t ever be ready for Jungkook to hate him.

- Hoseok has gotten better at smelling emotions through his sensitive nose- and whips his head around at the acrid scent of Yoongi’s displeasure- taking it wrong. “Then when will be the right time?” how Hoseok had managed to inherit your stubbornness but only ever decides to use it when Jungkook is concerned- Yoongi will never know.

- “Yoongi” Seokjin brings his focus back to him. You straighten up in bed. Sending both of your children a thankful but strained smile. “Boys? Would you mind giving us a minute?” both of them won’t argue with you now. not with how weak you look.

- You tell Seokjin the story- Yoongi filling in the blanks more than you do. He’s being so tender with you- the physical contact filling you with a soft haze along with the sleepiness. His fingers rubbing down your arm slowly and gently. He’s fully sprawled next to you, your head resting on his chest so you can listen to his heartbeat. Dozing a little. “Are you sure Yoongi?” Seokjin asks gripping the scarf like it’s a lifeline.

- Yoongi nods certain, “it must have been some sort of relic- you know how the humans like to hand those down through the generations. Jungkook’s birth parent’s where- these warriors? I can only describe them as a clan of dragon hunters but I never went back after I-“

- Yoongi can’t meet Seokjin’s eyes. “I killed them and then Jungkook was just there and couldn’t- I didn’t want to-” you lift a shaky hand up to cup Yoongi’s cheek, and he leans into it. All at once you realize this- you in the bed, and Seokjin accusing Yoongi of something the likes of which you can’t imagine, are too much for him.

- You jump in where Yoongi fails to articulate the words. “After that we took care of him together, and then Hobi came- and it’s only been us ever since. I’m sorry Seokjin, I don’t know who you’re looking for. But I don’t think it has anything to do with Jungkook” Seokjin’s protests die in his throat, and he nods sadly, setting the scarf gently on the end of your bed.

- Later- Yoongi will tell you about Seokjin’s family. and how slowly, after a period of time- they’d all begun to disappear off the face of the earth. The only family of sorcerers left or made- even Seokjin didn’t know how they’d come to be. Only that there could only be the seven of them and no more. Not even any more children, As having children was as good as passing your power down onto them- and relinquishing your own immortality.

- First his parents had gone- than his older siblings, and finally, his younger sister who had simply vanished one-afternoon leaving Seokjin alone- the only sorcerer left in the world. Seokjin had been searching for her ever since.

- That afternoon- you have more energy with your children around, and even eat something small. Though Seokjin had warned Yoongi that it might take a little while for your body to recuperate- he’s happy to watch you sit up a little more. The warmth back in your cheeks when you play a game of cards with your children sprawled across the bed that night.

- Both of them give you more details here and there about what had happened after you’d lost consciousness happy to receive more praise from you. Sometimes- Hoseok gets a little overwhelmed and needs to hug you and shifts- but he’s conscious enough to move before that happens this time (after a few poignant comments about the state of the bedframe from Seokjin), putting most of his weight on a plush couch that he and Jungkook had pushed over to the side of the bed. Leaning only his head on the plush blanket. It’s easy for both Yoongi and Jin to excuse themselves and go make dinner.

- It always surprises Yoongi how much Seokjin loves to cook- for an all-powerful immortal that doesn’t necessarily need to put in effort into doing anything. Yoongi has seen him wave his hands and summon full cooked feasts. And still, the sorcerer does love to cook with his own two hands, finding the process more satisfying that way.

- His friend looks the same as he had over a dozen years ago- his button-down shirt rolled to the sleeves, barking at Yoongi to pour out scoops of finely milled powders to make some sort of doughy saucy dish that Yoongi’s never heard of before. Seokjin’s mother’s cookbook sits open on the prep table- so it must be something special.

- “Just say it- I know you have something you want to ask,” Seokjin’s voice is quiet and comforting. In their little cadre- Seokjin has always been the voice of reason. Yoongi’s hands are elbow deep in flour. Slowly kneading the dough. He hesitates for a moment. Knowing once he asks, the future might be out of his hands.

- “I can’t lose her Jin, I don’t think Hoseok and I will be able to bear it when they both go- I don’t want to go back to being that lonely person I was- I need them. I need you to find a way to turn her immortal like us, and then I want you to do the same with Jungkook.”

- Hoseok is like Yoongi- won’t even reach maturity for another 20 years- and by that time, you’ll be older, and Jungkook will be nearing 35. He’s honestly surprised that he and Jungkook are still aging at the same rate as in general. Dragons stop aging once their human bodies start to reach maturity. Yoongi doesn’t want to think about the eventuality- 50 or 60 years down the line when Hoseok will loose his soul-bonded partner. They could lose both of you. If Seokjin and Yoongi don’t act now.

- But yet- he knows- what he’s asking of Seokjin is no easy feat of magic. If it was- Taehyung would be standing next to them right now. Seokjin’s eyes darken when Yoongi asks, his hands still from where he’s stirring the sauce. flicking off the fire with a twitch of his hand and setting the spoon on a plate.

- Yoongi knows a cure for mortality has been the only thing on Seokjin’s mind for a long time- before you were born even. It’s been his single goal since he’d met Taehyung. Yoongi wonders where Taehyung is- he should go and say hello to his old friend soon, but he’s not sure where he is in the castle probably hidden away near Seokjin’s bedroom.

- Seokjin makes a ‘come hither’ motion with his fingers and a singular perfect drop of red floats from the pot and into his mouth. “This needs something” he pauses for a moment before he turns and walks to the pantry. Searching for some oregano- but it might be in the study- after all- it was very useful in most calming spells. “You should go check on her Yoongi, and send your boys here- I want to teach them how to make this.”

- In the week since you’d been injured. Seokjin has taken it upon himself to teach the boys how to cook for themselves (if they’re going to insist on being the adventurers they are then it’s a skill they’ll need to posses) as well as “manners” which Yoongi had caught them grumbling about more than once.

- Jin likes his boys a fair bit, Even if they have gotten into his stores of potions twice in the last week (of which one incident had, unfortunately, lead to Hoseok’s hair turning into full-on feathers as dark as Jungkook’s hair. But luckily that had been quickly fixed by a secondary spell. What Yoongi doesn’t have to know- won’t hurt him) “Jin please-”

- “I know how it feels Yoongi- I know- just enjoy the next few days okay? Let me think about it. And ask her if she even wants this its not just you who chooses what happens with your family, Jungkook and Hobi too.” Yoongi sighs, but respects Seokjin’s words.

- And as much as Yoongi’s fear won’t let him make a coherent decision- he’s right. He should ask you first before he makes any plans about your mortality. Once you’re better- then he’ll ask. Yoongi lifts his hands up from the dough and unsurprisingly it keeps kneading its self pulled this way and that by an unseen force. A little too quickly- like Seokjin’s magic is a little agitated by so many questions.

- “I never thought you’d have kids. The Yoongi I met all those years ago wouldn’t have wanted to bring a woman into his mess let alone a child” Yoongi has to laugh at it because he’s right. His younger self was a lot more angsty and pessimistic about the likelihood of a family in his future.

- Yoongi can’t stop the soft smile that lights his face when he thinks of you. “They give me a lot of joy Jin- hope for the future too. Maybe the best way to change the world is to raise your own kids and make sure you do it right. Maybe that’s the way to change the world rather than any more pointless wars.”

- Seokjin knocks his shoulder into Yoongi’s “You’ve grown up a lot since I last saw you Yoongi.” And Yoongi can’t do anything else but smile- because sometimes- growing up is a good thing.

- You get better slowly, it takes you a few days to get out of bed and see the castle that your children have taken upon themselves to explore. A dark gothic structure with vaulted ceilings; its Library full of jeweled toned spell books in languages that Jungkook doesn’t even recognize- and tries to learn (his curiosity as unsatiable as ever).

- The books that seem to whisper in Jungkook’s ear. Sentences so quiet like t he’s just a little too far away to properly make out the words.

- Enchanted brooms sweeping here and there. Making indigent squeaking noises if you walk along their path. Rooms full of drawers- the shelves lining all the way up through the ceiling- each ingredient labeled by its uses, it’s common name, and its magical name. You’re curious too- especially when you find some plants even you use for healing with particular uses.

- The whole place is furnished like a decade out of the past- tufted velvet sofas and chipped gilded mirrors that have greyed with age- some of which are covered with cloths. You ask Seokjin what they hide when Hoseok tries to pull the covering off of one unseen magical hands stopping him. And the sorcerer just sighs a little clipped, and says cryptically “some things are best left unknown at his age.”

- Later one evening you’ll go over to it again and ask. And Seokjin will tell you that the mirror Hoseok was trying to peer into shows the viewer their soulmate. And when you pull the casing off of it- you don’t see anything- anyone standing beside you at all. Until Yoongi comes into the room, having just made sure that your boys were getting to bed at a semi-reasonable hour.

- Moving to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. smiling at you in the mirror and Tugging you to go to bed- and get some rest (he’s been seemingly obsessed with making sure you rest and become 100% better before you even talk about what you’re going to do next). You glance back at Seokjin- about to ask him what that means- to see no one. Until you see his small happy smile- oh, so Yoongi actually is your soulmate. You suppose that’s nice- knowing for sure.

- And Seokjin will sip his wine from the fireplace and give you both a soft shadowed smile, his hands tapping vacantly- reaching out for someone who he can’t touch, and wanting all the same. when he takes a chance and looks across the room to see Taehyung smiling at him, reflected in that mirror. And gets up to cover it again.

- Everything in the castle hums some sort of undercurrent. The room Seokjin sets you and Yoongi up in is lavish- the bed impossibly soft and the sheets that feel like running water on your skin. The fabrics that hang on the walls detailing stories that seem to be ever-changing. One morning you wake up to an embroidered phoenix hanging on the wall across from you and the next; some sort of intricate blue flower about to bloom.

- There are 100 moments that could have prepared you for what happens in the end. Hoseok and Jungkook walking through the library- only to have Jungkook complain that it’s ‘too loud to concentrate” “what are you talking about Koo it’s a library” “yeah but- don’t you hear it?” or the fact that Jungkook keeps begging Seokjin to do spells but somehow they never stick.

- You’re lounging in the sitting room next to the library, its tall glass ceiling- a small door to the side open to the backyard and garden. You’re shivering a little where you’re propped up against Yoongi. He keeps fussing, tucking the blanket around you tighter. And you’re ready for another nap even though you’ve just woken up.

- Your children badger Seokjin about every different kind of spell that he can do after they find one that gives someone the ability to control the length of their hair- which is apparently something Hoseok really wants- though you can’t imagine why.

- They’re just working out the logistics when Jungkook lugs over a spellbook more half his size and slams it down across the desk, making both Seokjin and Hoseok- having been bent over the spellbook- flinch. “Page 497” Jungkook is almost vibrating with excited energy, as Seokjin waves a hand, the massive book flipping open, “Hyung” he tacks on- with little regard for politeness. But Seokjin supposes its better than he’d been before- when he hadn’t even remembered to refer to Seokjin as his elder.

- Hoseok is a little cross at Jungkook for interrupting for a moment, Before he leans over the spellbook, his smile lighting up his whole face, his voice suddenly loud and mirthful “oh yes- please- Seokjin Hyung-”

- “What is it?” you call from where you sit, Yoongi putting a finger in his book and setting it aside so that he can watch, a gentle smile playing on his lips. one arm around your waist as you recline against him, leaning forward to slowly run his nose over your shoulder.

- Seokjin rolls his eyes, rising from the table and rolling up his sleeves, looking exasperated but ready for the challenge of doing a spell he’s never attempted. It’s far easier just to teleport that fly honestly. “Of course you’d want to fly- alright- come on then- to the middle of the room with you.”

- Yoongi starts to protest- that maybe inside isn’t the best place for this, but you put a hand on his arm, soothing him because you want to watch but you don’t want to move. You suppose with a ceiling- Jungkook can’t let his flying get out of hand. It’s probably better to be more contained. Both of you watch as Jungkook practically vibrates with energy. Hoseok is happy glancing at him too- “I can’t wait to fly with you Kookie- this way- we can go everywhere! And I don’t even have to carry you!”

- Hoseok and Jungkook had been trying to find a way to fly with Jungkook on Hoseok’s back for years. But he’d never been strong enough or large enough to handle Jungkook’s weight for more than a few minutes. He was getting stronger- but your boys are impatient.

- Seokjin humors both of them, holding both his hands out and when he starts to speak, the purple light flares at his fingertips. The stone at the center of his chest glowing too. You’d asked him about it a few days ago- and he’d said that each sorcerer needed some sort of channel- a magical object to give them the ability to link their soul to the magic humming all around them. And you watch it pulsate now as he speaks the words. Jungkook closes his eyes as the magic washes over him like a heavy blanket, his hair rising on end.

- Jungkook only hovers an inch above the ground before the magic rebound upon him- slipping off of him and sticking to Hoseok- who suddenly finds himself floating 4 feet above the ground. The spell stops and he touches down as Jungkook makes a disappointed grumble, crestfallen, “Why didn’t it work!”

- Seokjin blinks, looking down at his hands. “that’s strange” he says- before he asks Hoseok to step away- something about the soulbond interfering maybe. Both you and Yoongi watch on- your books set aside to watch.

- Jungkook is almost vibrating with excitement as Seokjin closes his eyes really concentrating this time, Hoseok waiting and watching behind him. You think something should be happening- until you realize that Yoongi and yourself are hovering a foot off of the couch.

- Seokjin sets you down easily. All of them laughing at you clinging to Yoongi when you realize you’re airborne frantically asking Seokjin to put you down. Yoongi’s gummy smile on display. Jungkook looks more and more put out by the second. “Let's go outside” Seokjin says, and your children head jauntily out after him, Jungkook lugging the spellbook under one arm, almost slipping in the grass under its weight.

- You and Yoongi are soft- piled up together. Yoongi’s long fingers dancing along the edge of your knuckles, rubbing over the little scars that you have here and there. You both watch as Seokjin tries and tries and tries- but Jungkook never gets more than a few inches off the grass. You can see the impression the magic makes in the grass as it rushes from Seokjin to Jungkook, making it stand up or fall down in place- like it’s some sort of wind.

- “There’s something I want to ask you- when we’ve got the chance I-“ Yoongi’s sentence is interrupted by Hoseok’s shout of “Uncle Jimin! Uncle Namjoon!” in the yard, Yoongi helps you up and sure enough- Namjoon and Jimin are touching down in the front yard. Hugging each of your sons, Seokjin and Namjoon embracing once Namjoon has a second to shift.

- Jimin is just doting on Jungkook and Hoseok, hugging them- thankful that they’re alright- when he looks up- clothed differently and less flamboyantly than he usually is. His simple flying gear dark and patterned, making him sleek and quicker as a flyer- so much so that you barely see him before he’s colliding with you- “are you okay we found your blood and the men and-“ their words rush out of them before you have a chance to blink-

- “I’m- I’m okay- a little banged up but- I’m fine Jimin” their face is panicked, Namjoon’s somber as they rush over. “We thought you were dead” he says, you can tell by his dimples- making a brief appearance that he’s happy to find you alive and relatively alright.

- Even now- Seokjin and Namjoon stand closer- as if by proximity they could make up for the distance of years- its hard to wrack your memory for the reason why but then you remember- they’re soul bonded partners. “Did you-“ Yoongi’s voice trails off. The feral glint in Jimin’s eye is more lethal than any you’ve ever seen in it- “I did” he says, relish in the words.

- Yoongi nods, letting out an uneven laugh “good” he pulls you closer by an arm around your waist. Because he hadn’t been able to get revenge and the knowledge that the men that had hurt you hadn’t gotten away- its enough for now. “Oh you mean- the dragon hunters?” Jimin smile is fanged when he looks at you.

- His hands are viselike on your upper arms as he tugs you close- whispers low in your ear. “No one hurts my family and gets away with It.“ you blush a little, unsure how to respond because that kind of loyalty is rare. and it does warm your heart a little.

- “There’s more though” Namjoon says, and it's then that you realize that he’s dressed much in the same way Jimin is. The clothes simple tight and black, Namjoon doesn’t look happy when he has to say the words. Age-old tiredness in his face.

- “That wasn’t any ordinary attack- it was ordered by the human king- to try to take you out before the fighting starts.” Yoongi and you straighten up, in the background, Hoseok and Jungkook stand a little closer, “the human king has declared eminent domain over all dragon lands. We’ll go to war within the month.”

- The argument that happens next isn’t what you expect- not at least- from Jimin and Namjoon. It ends with Yoongi slamming his hands down on a table in Seokjin’s study the sound loud and percussive. “No Namjoon- I won’t fucking fight.”

- You’re glad that your sons aren’t here- have been told by you to go explore- neither of them had seemed too upset about it- maybe just a little because they wanted to see Jimin and Namjoon- but not enough to question you. They understand how serious it must be for all of the adults to look so somber.

- Smoke curls over Yoongi’s chin. And the room fills with an ice-like chill from Namjoon as his temper flares. “I will not- nor will I ever again- fight another war for that blasted council. I have a family to keep safe now Namjoon- and I can’t believe you’d even ask-“

- “That’s exactly why I’m asking you Yoongi. How can you expect them to be safe without you?” he makes a flippant gesture with his hands, and next to you in the doorway where Jimin leans, he winces Yoongi recoiling already taking that wrong.

- “The last war took 33 years Namjoon, by that time- Y/n will be almost 70 and Jungkook will be aged too- you can’t expect me to waste what little time I might have left on something so-”

- “Hang on-“ Jimin interrupts; he’s been standing, leaning back against the doorway for the majority of this conversation. “When did you get so obsessed with time?” “Since I almost lost her Jimin, I can’t-”

- “You didn’t!?” Namjoon straightens up, looking at his soul-bonded partner aghast. “You didn’t fucking promise him something that you can’t even fucking do for Taehyung- Seokjin!”

- Seokjin flinches back, from where he sits at the table, trying to stay out of the argument, his face drawn. Hands clasped, leaning his chin on them. He doesn’t respond. “Neither of you get it!” Yoongi yells, hands bursting into flames by his side, hot furious tears budding at the corner of his eyes. “Both of you are immortal you don’t know what it’s like- watching the person you love almost die. I can’t- I won't stand by while I lose”

- Yoongi breaks off- glancing up at you, already stepping forward to comfort him, he swallows, meeting Namjoon’s furious glare. “I won't waste another day that I have with them- and neither should you- you both should fuck the council and side with us.”

- “Yoongi” you say. Your voice breaking, running to him- his hands extinguishing the second he even gets close to touching you. Because you hadn’t really realized how much this was affecting him. You hold onto him as strong he holds onto you. Namjoon and Jimin sigh, their fight and the chill in the air dissipating as they accept Yoongi’s choice. Jimin grasping at his hand. Namjoon looks at Yoongi- suddenly looking defeated. Seokjin won't look at him, keeps his eyes on the desk in front of him. “Alright- if you won’t fight I can’t make you, but Seokjin will you?”

- Seokjin shakes his head, his voice so quiet and thick with emotion- with hope. “If both of us are looking- it will be easier- twice as much brain power as one- with Yoongi by my side- we’ll make twice as much progress in a year.”

- You’ve been silent up until now, rubbing your face slowly into Yoongi’s shirt, Yoongi’s hands fisting in the back of your shawl tight around your shoulders. Since you nearly died- you’ve been colder than usual. There have been a lot of things said in this argument that you don’t understand. And from the somber way Seokjin speaks- you figure you should know.

- You’ve been letting them argue because as much as you care that your mate stays by your side- this isn’t a choice any of you should make for Yoongi. Even if you’re on his side, and don’t want him to waste another moment. to be parted from you for anyother moment. “What do you guys mean? Progress with what?”

- Jimin snorts, crossing his arms like it’s the confirmation that he needed. “See- you haven’t even asked her yet.”

- “Asked me what? I don’t understand,” you say at the same moment Namjoon looks over at the clock, checking the time. “We have to go- the council is having a meeting about this tomorrow night and if they’re going to call the garrison without you- they’ll need time to pick a replacement.”

- None of them have to look far- the only one who could replace Yoongi would be Namjoon himself- his second in command. Yoongi watches with a sick feeling in his stomach- at the possibility of Namjoon going to war without either Seokjin or himself by his side isn’t apealing. But then Yoongi looks at you- and the prospect gets a little easier to bear. Namjoon and Jimin leave, embracing you before they go, and you touch either of their cheeks telling them to be safe.

- And the three of you linger in study. Listening to Jimin and Namjoon hug Jungkook and Hobi on the patio outside and say goodbye at least for a little bit. Seokjin following them to say a few words to namjoon before he takes off. Because Namjoon and Jimin are sure to be busy for a while at least- this will take all of their attention. Damn Namjoon for his altruism and Jimin for his inability not to follow his mates led and stand by him. Yoongi wishes they would stay.

- Yoongi comes over to stand by you as you watch them get ready to take off, namjoon already shifted, Hoseok shifted too to jump on his back playfully teasing his uncle, he scrabbles with his claws against Namjoon’s slippery icy scales. and you can hear Jungkook, Jimin, and Seokjin’s giggles from here.

- Yoongi presses a hot kiss against the nape of your neck, and then your mouth when you turn your face to let him, and you can feel his frustration in it, all of the passion. Jimin and namjoon take off- leaving as quickly as he came. It’s easy for him to Wisk you away to a quiet part of the castle. Needing some quiet with you- to have you all to himself for just a little while.

- The kisses don’t stop even when he picks you up after you stumble. You barely even notice the rest of the castle passing in a blur as he carries you through it, kicking open the door to your bedroom.

- He lays you back on the bed gently as he can, his hands touching and brushing all over you. His movements almost fever mad with the need to touch “Yoongi” you say, breathless- a half moan as he touches you the way that makes you dizzy and close to falling apart at the seams. But he’s hard there- ready to keep you together but desperate.

- “Let me feel you just- let me taste you” he says, kissing down your collar bones and rucking up your shirt so he can mouth hungrily at the skin of your stomach, every touch of his desperate and Shaking. “Let me just-please- I know you’re tired but I’ll do I’ll the work- I’ll take care of you-”

- You don’t understand why he suddenly needs your skin on his more than he needs air in his lungs. Maybe its because it’s the first time since you’ve been injured- or maybe because he’d been so close to losing you and Jimin and Namjoon had just reminded him of it. Maybe it's a little bit of the guilt he feels for not being able to protect you and take care of you in the first place.

- And though you have so many questions, when Yoongi looks at you a little too emotional; you forget all your questions and kiss him back, touch him back when he shakes, because he looks so vulnerable right now- more than you’ve ever seen him.

- Your hand comes down to scratch around his horns in the way you know has had him coming at times, and he groans, low and breathless as he tugs down your pants. Shucking them off and hooking your knee over his shoulder fingers reaching down to part your wetness. The press of his long fingers making your back arch. His mouth as equally hot and wet on you as you feel.

- True to his word Yoongi does all of the work, and it leaves you feeling boneless and sated in the way only your mate can make you feel. It's sweaty and sensual but close more than anything as he slides into you and keeps you near, chest pressed to yours. his face buried in your shoulder, almost crying with how good it feels to be so connected to you. The kisses lingering and hot and thankful because you’re here- you’re here.

- “Yoongi?” you ask, alarmed when you realize he’s actually crying. Seated inside of you after he’s cum, hiding his face in your shoulder. “Baby what’s wrong?” he can barely speak, his voice raw when he looks up, lips pursed to keep his sobs in.

- “I can’t lose you- I can’t Y/n- I just can’t and that day- when I thought I had lost you” Yoongi is lost for words. “I just- I can’t keep going if you die, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

- “Not ‘if ‘though” you say, being honest with him, crying as you shake your head, “when right? Because I’m not immortal like you”

- Yoongi shakes his head, suddenly sitting up, “no- I mean if- if you die.”

- With little more than that Yoongi launches into his explanation, the story of Seokjin and Taehyung, and what that means for both of you. Eventually- you end up sitting up next to each other. Fingers and legs tangled together- Yoongi rushing over his words like a babbling brook. And slowly- what he means to do starts to take hold.

- The next morning, Seokjin knocks on the door to your bedroom. “Where are Hoseok and Jungkook?” you ask, finishing braiding your hair while Yoongi laces up his boots. Seokjin leans against the door in his silky purple robe, fiddling with its ties. “They’re eating breakfast- you don’t have to worry about them- they’re okay- a little angry with Jimin and Namjoon for leaving but they’ll be okay.” Seokjin looks like they’re more that he wants to say- but doesn’t. “Did you ever manage to put that spell on Jungkook?”

- “No- but for the life of me I’m going to figure out why” you can tell by the way he shakes his head that it’s not normal. Yoongi snorts a little, sitting behind you to fiddle with the tail of your braid a little. The action is almost subconscious. “It’s probably for the best- otherwise we’d have to clean him out of the rafters constantly.” Seokjin laughs at that- but still looks uncomfortable.

- “Did you-“ he turns to Yoongi to ask, but it’s you who answers. “He did.” Seokjin seems to straighten up- nodding softly. Holding out his hand for you to take it. “There’s something I want to show you then.”

- The boy in the glass coffin is something out of a dream. The flowers surrounding him of every single texture and fragrance, orange blossoms, jasmine, autumn clematis, datura, and sweet woodruff all in piles around the sleeping boy. Blanketing him in heaps of white, filling the room with an intoxicating scent.

- “Who is he?” you ask, watching the way that Seokjin tenderly rubs circles over the glass. Even underneath it- you can see how beautiful the boy is, gangly in his litheness, but with a strong jaw that spoke of a turning of age. You would have thought he was dead if not for the gentle rise of his chest in his pale white shirt. The collar parted a little to show his chest and the runes written on his skin.

- “His name Taehyung, he’s my lover,” Seokjin looks down at him like he’s about to cry, “Though a better word for us would be soulmates.” finally you know what Seokjin would see if he looked into the mirror in his study. And why he kept it covered- why look at an imitation when he had the real thing upstairs.

- There is nothing but the most gentle, the most aching love on Seokjin’s face, and also- the deepest sorrow. “Or like Yoongi calls me- his mate” you smile, tipping your shoulder into Seokjin to try and make that look go off his face, his eyes flicker from the sleeping man up to you. “Yes- I suppose that’s right.”

- “What’s wrong with him? why is he in there?” “I put him in an eternal sleep to stop his aging- until I can find a way for us to be together forever- and turn him immortal like me.” “So you’re going to try and turn him into a magician?”

- Seokjin shakes his head, “Not quite- it’s not possible for there to be more like me. if I could turn him into a sorcerer like me- then he’d be immortal. But Magic- it isn’t so easily tamed.” Seokjin looks down at his hands, the blue fire creeping between them like some sort of bug, winding back around his fingers, as quick as you can think it- the fire solidifies into a snake- all at once going back to fire- so quick you almost think you imagine it.

- “Magic is particular about its host. If it bonds with the wrong person it kills them- and almost everyone can’t take it. It’s only ever been my family who was able to take the magic. There hasn’t ever been another bloodline that’s been strong enough.”

- Yoongi had told you about Seokjin’s family. And you’d also seen one of the portraits hanging deep in the castle. Almost as tall as the room it’s self- the people painted at a one to one scale. Half a dozen people, and at the center of it- a chubby-cheeked Seokjin with those luminous purple eyes, probably no more than 6. Holding hands tightly with a female child with equally as haunting blue eyes. All of them- just gone. “And my bloodline is all dead or gone- there’s not much difference.”

- So Seokjin only has Taehyung and that glass coffin, he gets to watch his love sleep as long as he wants, but cannot touch him. Forever just too far away until he comes back to life. You watch as Seokjin leans- and puts his weight over Taehyung. If there was no glass, he would be lying across his lap.

- “Once a year I wake him up- on my birthday. Taehyung makes it my birthday present. But mostly it’s to make sure he hasn’t gotten lost wherever he is in his dreams. Sometimes it’s harder than others to get him to come back, but the good thing is that it just feels like a night has passed for him so he doesn’t have to miss me too much.”

- “Even though it’s been a year for you? Doesn’t it get lonely for you?”

- His fingers keep stroking lovingly over the glass of the coffin. “Its hard- but it’s not impossible. To get the chance to live with him forever- to get enough time with him- I’d do anything. One day a year is better than an eternity of nothing.” Seokjin turns his eyes on you, “Yoongi wants to do the same for you and Jungkook.”

- The breath gets knocked out of your lungs, as you turn it over in your head- eternal sleep, immortality, and all of it boiling down to Yoongi. Of course- he’d told you last night- but now it hits you- this room filled with flowers. Seokjin so close to his love and never able to touch him. When you think back to when you’d been stabbed- you remember some words- comforting- Yoongi’s voice that you’d held onto through the darkness. ‘I haven’t had nearly enough time with you yet’

- “But- Jungkook- he’s only a child.”

- “He killed a man for you, Y/n, he’s not a child anymore, neither is Hobi” you can’t help it. You wipe your tears away with the back of your hand. “I want to talk with Yoongi again,” Seokjin pushes up from his lovers bedside, his hand lingering on the glass coffin- aching to reach inside and touch him for sure- but he can’t. You don’t want to imagine Yoongi in the same fate.

- You wait while Seokjin gets Yoongi, looking at Taehyung thinking about yourself locked in some sort of glass contraption. The more you look at Taehyung- the more something about him sticks out. You hear footsteps behind you. Seokjin leaves the two of you to talk for a moment. Intent on retrieving some tea for the three of you. It’s still barely before noon. “I think I may have dreamed about him one point- years ago. There’s something familiar about his face.”

- Yoongi puts his hand on the side of the glass as if to touch Taehyung. “Did you know him?” “Only for a little while- but just enough to understand why Seokjin could never bear loosing him. In many ways Taehyung is what makes the world sweet for Seokjin- no point in living if all there is only bitterness.”

- “Is that how- is that how you feel about me? Is that what would happen to you if I died? When I die?” Yoongi pulls you close, and before he can manage to pin his emotions inside of his fire-filled chest they spark up like embers and he’s crying- holding you close. “Don’t say that just yet. But it is.” there is nothing else needed but that- Yoongi’s face pinned to your shoulder, his hands holding you like he knows he wont be able to protect you from the world and all the horrors in it.

- Seokjin walks back in- carrying a tray piled high with cookies and a pot full of tea that smells sweet. Yoongi holds you around your shoulders while you sit, too tired, and still weak from your injury to stand any longer. You don’t look at Seokjin much when you talk, only at Taehyung.

- “I don’t want one day a year- not with Jungkook and Hobi being so young. And Yoongi doesn’t want me to wait either so- if you can give me one day a month until Jungkook turns 18. We think that could be enough. And if- if Jungkook wants the same treatment, he can choose it for himself. But we can’t make that choice for him. If he doesn’t choose it then I don’t- I won’t-”

- Yoongi brushes his hands over yours, “we don’t even know- let's ask him first before you start talking like that” But you both think that Jungkook will want it too- even if it could mean an eternity asleep. You’re already doing the math in your head. Putting it together how much time they’d have left to figure out a cure for your mortality.

- One day a year with a lifespan of about 80 years- that means Seokjin and Yoongi had around 15,000 years before you died to find a way to make you like them. It wasn’t easy- Yoongi couldn’t help but feel like they didn’t have enough time. Seokjin’s been looking for a little over 100 and he hasn’t found much at all.

- “There is one other thing” Seokjin looks worried- too worried to ask this of both of you. You catch him clutching Jungkook’s baby blanket like it could be a lifeline again- for the hundredth time since you’ve come here. He’d taken it a few days ago to study it- try and see if he could put a tracking spell on it to find the owner. But unfortunately- the spell only leads back to Jungkook. Not too surprising since it had been in his possession for so long. “If- if Jungkook’s ancestors are somehow connected to my sister's disappearance, then I need to know.”

- “Seokjin” Yoongi isn’t full of reproach- only pity- because before now- Seokjin’s never doubted the fact that his sister was dead. That was the only reason why she ever would have left him, or stayed away for the last hundred or so years.

- Seokjin shakes his head “Only a sorcerer could have put done this spell Yoongi. if it was a witch it would have worn off years ago. and I’m the last one of my family left and I didn’t do the spell. If my sister is still out there- then I need to find out. I need you to show me where you found him.”

- Seokjin turns to where you sit by his loves bedside, through it all; Taehyung’s chest rises up and down. He turns a little fitful in his sleep. “Taehyung won’t wake for another three weeks- if we go tomorrow- we can be there and back in one. I don’t trust Taehyung with anyone.” his eyes flash with a flood of purple, dangerous as he stares at you, “but I think I can trust you- that’s my price. I’ll put you to sleep like him if you look over him for me while we’re gone.”

- You nod softly, “that’s more than reasonable” “make sure your children don’t terrorize my castle either” Seokjin rubs at his temples. “God they’re- Hoseok is entirely re-ordering my series on shrinking spells- he thinks he’s putting them back right but- ugh- it's going to take me an age to put them back in order”

- “You can feel what they’re doing?” you ask surprised. “I can feel everything” Seokjin says, melancholy and bleak. “Everything that goes on in this castle if I’m not distracted enough- it kind of gets-” Seokjin’s chest heaves a little unevenly. “Overwhelming. That’s why I can’t live close to anyone all of their thoughts and wants and needs on display- like you. I can tell that you want Yoongi to sit closer to you because you're worried about what he’ll be like when he can't touch you, and I can tell that he’s still calculating something- and it’s making you nervous- please stop- it’s making everything worse Yoon.”

- Yoongi straightens up, his cheeks blushing a little before he pulls his chair closer to yours. You give up after a moment, standing up to sit in his lap. Seokjin doesn’t look uncomfortable- only mollified. Still shaky. “Taehyung used to be the only thing that would make it better-“

- “Can you tell what he’s dreaming of?” the way that he’s looking at Taehyung, it’s like he wishes he could lean forward and pulls him closer. Curl up with him on his lap the same way Yoongi is doing with you.

- “Sometimes” his fingers tap on the glass, “but most of the time it’s hard to see through the glass. And it’s almost worse then- because when you can see your love- but you can’t touch them or hold them or talk with them- it almost makes it worse” he turns to Yoongi sharply. “I guess you’ll find out.”

- Seokjin’s chest is still heaving unevenly and it makes you alarmed- especially when you see one of the roses by the window shake so hard all its petals fall off- you can almost feel it- the way the air trembles. A glass bottle on the shelf rattles, and nearly falls off the edge before it’s pushed back.

- Seokjin’s hands shake too. You reach out- gently covering Seokjin’s hands with yours over the glass coffin. “If you can’t see him- maybe talking about him will help calm you down” your voice is low and honeyed- like you’re comforting a startled doe.

- Yoongi can see the way Seokjin visibly shutters at the contact- almost shakes too much and Yoongi curses himself a little internally. His friend has been on his own for so long and it’s so painful to see. He’s so incredibly starved for human touch. Seokjin leaves his hand under yours over the glass casket, lets you touch him even though it looks like it’s overwhelming to him- so much so that it almost hurts.

- Yoongi knows what that feels like- remembers feeling much the same the first time he’d ever touched you- those first lingering touches- when you’d pass him baby Jungkook- or the feel of his son in his arms- such a slight boneless weight, warm and soft in all the most endearing ways.

- You’re such a natural healer- and Seokjin looks so distraught- so achingly lonely- you can’t not reach out and try to make it better. If he’s going to give you Yoongi your family forever- the least you can do is offer him this.

- “Taehyung was- Taehyung is an effervescent person.” Seokjin looks at his love when he says the words- soft and slow. “There are certain people that only come along once in a lifetime- that you are destined to meet. My sister- she was the fortuneteller of the family- she was the one who always saw what was going to happen to us before it did. And if she’d been able to meet him- I’m sure she would have said it was fate, because there isn’t any other explanation for him loving me.”

- “Humanity is a delicate thing- you all- chase immortality like you should want it- like memories should be eternal- but they aren’t. It didn’t use to bother me- not being able to remember where I was born or how I grew up- but Taehyung- Taehyung made me not want to forget a single second.”

- “He was a farm boy, grew up with a big family as poor as could be but never with an empty stomach. even now, if I think hard enough- I can still taste his peach tart on my tongue. He makes it for me every year on my birthday. I wake him up and he makes me a peach tart and we eat it. Tae calls it “every day a birthday”

- “He’s the one who made me put him to sleep you know- I was prepared to live with him until he died and then- find a way to end my life myself- I wanted it- I more than wanted it but Tae- he saw right through me. He almost died just before. Got hit in the head during one of the last battles.”

- Seokjin looks at Yoongi, and Yoongi nods. “I remember, Namjoon and I were fighting on the mountainside, and we saw this black cloud flood the valley- like smoke. And by the time it dissipated, there was only Seokjin and Tae left.” you bristle internally- wondering how powerful the man who sits across from you is if he can fell an army in a single day.

- “I put him to sleep so that I could heal him- so that he wouldn’t die. The initial spell wasn’t much different than the one that’s on him now. I stitched him together cell by cell until his brain was healed. I was so worried when he woke up that he wouldn’t remember me but he did- and the first words out of his mouth were; ‘I knew you would die for me- but you also have to live Jinnie- both of us do- I’m not letting me be the reason you die.”

- You look up sharply at Yoongi when he intakes a jagged breath- “would you do the same for me Yoongi?” he can’t answer, only keeps holding your hand. And you know just by the way his eyes flood with tears and his shoulders hunch in that yes- that is the case.

- Suddenly you’re flustered, standing up, “Okay this is a lot- we need to hug it out” you gesture expectantly with your open arms, suddenly not able to handle all of the emotion in the room without doing something about it.

- Yoongi gives an aborted protest at you standing. And Seokjin flushes all the way to his ears again. Both of them folding in around you- your arm coming up to loosely tug Seokjin into your arms and he goes gratefully after a moment of reluctance. Both of them holding onto you limply. “I don’t get hugs a lot.” Seokjin says, his voice sounding small and shy.

- “Well it’s a good thing I have some to spare.” Yoongi gives you a thankful look before he tucks his face in close kissing your forehead and then dragging burying his face in your shoulder. both of them taller than you, hunched over to hug you properly.

- The three of you hug for a bit and then you pull apart first- because as much as you are always happy to comfort him. Your side is starting to ache a little- and you need to sit down. Both of them understand, even if you do see Seokjin’s hand reach out a little at first- unwilling to part with his first source of human comfort in a little less than a year.

- “Tell me more- tell me all of the good things” Seokjin launches into the story of when they first met without a second thought- smiling this time. Yoongi sends you a thankful look. Somewhere along the line. The room has stopped shaking with Seokjin’s tremulous emotions. And with his focus firmly on all of the happy memories he has with Taehyung he relaxes a little.

- All in all though, it might not be the best moment for him to lose his concentration. As your 15 and 13-year-old sons are left unchaperoned in a house full of very magical and very dangerous objects and spellbooks. Not the best moment for Seokjin to be occupied.

- If he hadn’t been so distracted, he might have realized sooner- before it was too late.

- Jungkook and Hoseok have found their way through the library and into a second more hidden library, then down a set of steps that where slippery with moss- through a separate hidden passageway and then through a door- which didn’t open for Hoseok- and then miraculously and for some unknown reason opened for Jungkook. (But don’t worry- you’ll discover why in the next 5,000 words or so- so please be patient)

- “Huh- Seokjin- Hyung was really right- the spells really won’t work on you” Jungkook just shrugs, happily shoving back the heavy iron door using all his body weight to push it open. “He should have put a real lock on it- then that might have kept me out”

- Hoseok smiles at Jungkook’s cockiness- only 13 and Hoseok can only think that if Jungkook where a character in one of your storybooks, He could have been a formidable child thief. “And besides what do they expect- we don’t have anything to do here. It's his fault for not giving us something to do!”

- When Jungkook grins at Hobi- Hobi can almost feel the future. The mischief that both of them are going to get into once Hoseok gets large enough to carry them both around the world- they want to see it all.

- Hoseok is glad- after a few days of being in a dream-like fog- it seems as though Jungkook is almost back to normal. There have been a few moments- one where he saw Jungkook flinch back from some warm water- washing up for dinner. And another, when he’d washed the clothes they’d been in that day to get out the blood. But other than that- he seems to be handling everything as well as can be expected.

- Hoseok knows (as Hoseok always knows) that Jungkook is waiting for the right time to vent to you and Yoongi about it. Hoseok wants to too- and figure out why he doesn’t feel as affected- and it’s not like he feels heartless- like he doesn’t care that he killed people. No- he feels guilty but he figures those men had made a choice just like Hoseok had made a choice.

- The room is piled high with all but the creepiest of things- crystals glow a dull purple in the wall- as glass eyes curl and blink from a few crevasses here and there where the plaster has fallen away and the bricks are exposed. Glittering potion bottles, teeth in glass jars as well as something fluffy and black that taps at the side of one with sharp claws.

- A glowing sphere here and there- nothing too bad- nothing too out of the ordinary. Stacks of black leather diary’s stacked on a shelf- more shelves crammed with things. Jungkook dashes off before with a happy hum before Hoseok can keep up, preoccupied with taking everything in. The younger disappearing through the maze of shelves and piles.

- Hoseok’s wades through the collection slower. There is something about the smell down here, Hoseok’s nose smarting with something acrid, that he doesn’t like- doesn’t want to be around at all. “Jungkookie?” Hoseok calls, walking through the isles of potions and books; somehow he’d lost sight of jungkook almost immediately. He walks too quickly, almost knocking over a fishbowl full of squids with human faces. His head bumping into some sort of crusty dried plant- the flower blooms when he touches it- but then dies when he moves away.

- For some reason he feels like he should apologize to it- and when he does- the flower bows back. A shiver works his way down his spine. A feeling like he’s being watched by something old and ancient sinking its claws into the back of his neck. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears.

- “Ugh... Kookie! I don’t think we should be down here!” he calls, looking frantically around for his companion. and then he spots Jungkook, or the back of his head, walking forward slowly. It’s then that he sees it, set into a wall of shelves, a glass box faintly glowing, its door sliding open with a faint squeak.

- Hoseok can feel the pounding in his ears strengthen as Jungkook walks towards it growing closer to thunder. the light in the box, a long glowing stick that can only be described as a wand pulsing in time with the thundering in his ears- probably in Jungkook’s too. He shouts Jungkook’s name again but he doesn’t turn.

- When Hoseok speaks it feels like he’s talking through water, runs forward to pull Jungkook back from the box, because whatever it is it can’t be good but the younger just pushes him off. It’s then that Hoseok realizes that something is wrong- terribly wrong.

- Jungkook’s eyes are wide, pupils dilated and glassy, lips parts as he stares at the wand, not even seeing Hoseok, “Kookie- stop I don’t think we should mess with-“ before Hoseok can stop him, Jungkook is reaching out, touching the wand. It’s so gentle, almost a caress. Hoseok sees it- the moment Jungkook’s brown eyes flood with bright blue- and the world explodes in a cloud of energy and magic.

- Seokjin is just telling you about the time that Taehyung tried to convince Seokjin into dying Taehyung’s hair bright pink when he pauses in the middle of a sentence. Mouth hanging open for a second before he’s cursing and disappearing in a flash- one moment present and the next not. You and Yoongi hear his voice a moment later- booming out with some sort of spell. “The basement- they found their way into- shit- fuck!”

- You and Yoongi break out into a run, and the house seems to move around you- aiding in guiding you towards them- the floors sloping down when you need and doors opening seconds before you pass them almost making Yoongi almost collide to one of them more than once. Yoongi keeps a hand on your side- supporting you enough that it barely hurts when you run. “Not that way you idiot- this way.”

- The belly of the castle gets progressively darker, glowing crystals hanging in alcoves and mushrooms growing in crevasses. Little hidden creatures that definitely are not mice making little screeching noises and running from the direction of where Seokjin guides you. Every living thing- even the moss on the walls, slowly itching away from whatever’s happened down there. You can’t run as quickly on account of your wounds but Yoongi doesn’t let you walk alone. Supporting you as you hobble along.

- “Jungkook!” you shout when you see- your son, floating a few feet above in the air, a diffuse cloud of light blue fog surrounding him- Seokjin is quick to stop you with a hand, “don’t touch him! If you want to live we can’t touch him!” Yoongi catches you around your waist just in time. Keeping you from lunging for your son. your shrill shriek of “Jungkook! Hoseok!”

- Seokjin holds his arms stiff, his hands and fingers bent at awkward angles. Magic sparking between his fingers, the bright purple fire morphs into bubbles on the end of each finger-popping off as they float to Jungkook. Combining and growing in size- encasing him in a glassy cage. Seokjin is the one keeping Jungkook contained, the only thing that separates you all from life- and oblivion.

- A pile of books stirs next to you and a fully shifted Hoseok stirs, tossing books to the ground and sneezing in all of the dust. Shifting in a smooth movement, Yoongi reaching out to touch him- to make sure he’s there an uninjured. “Oh Hobi- oh” you try as he runs to you shifting mid-step, hitting each other and holding on, his head tucked under your chin.

- “What happened!? What did you touch!?” Seokjin silences your protests of his tone with a look. “Just a- a wand I think?” Hoseok is small and scared in your arms. Seokjin looks enraged. “Don’t you know not to touch other people's things? Jungkook could have blown this castle and half the country to dust! And now he’s-“

- Seokjin chokes, the magic taking the air out of his lungs, he stumbles, but straightens. Making another complex movement with his hands when the bubble tries to swell. Contained by both his hands now- not just one. “Now it might be too late.”

- “Seokjin- what happened to him- can he be-” “Yoongi please- it’s all I can do to keep this contained- he must have-” Seokjin cannot meet Yoongi’s eyes, “The wand is trying to bind with him.” The glowing stone at the center of Seokjin’s own chest seems to glow and pulsate stronger at the words. Yoongi almost falls to his knees- no- not Jungkook. You and Hoseok are confused, horror on Yoongi’s face, Hoseok already stepping in-between you and Jungkook- like that will keep you safe from whatever threat.

- “What does this mean?” it hits him, almost makes him fall to his knees, Hoseok can’t breathe. He can’t feel Jungkook’s soul bond at all- not an inch of it. The light in his chest- the glowing soft press that always lets him know that he’s not alone- isn’t there anymore.

- Seokjin says the words steady, the way only an immortal can. “It means Jungkook is going to die. And if I don’t keep this bubble around the magic- so will all of us.”

- Jungkook doesn’t know what happened, one moment he was standing in that room and the next he’s being blown back, back through the darkness and a strange pulsating blue light and into a dark unfamiliar night.

- Also- straight into a puddle. His hands hit the mud dark water soaking his clothes- He splutters as the rain hits his face, his eyes focusing on the dark tree line. The buildings- peaked roofs with bright green tiles- different. He’s never seen them or any that looked like them before. But there are lights in the houses.

- He stands, his back and pant legs soaked with rain, he figures- there must have been some sort of transporting spell on whatever he touched (because he’d been reading Seokjin’s spell books every chance he gets and he’d discovered that those are a thing). A sudden horror fills him- because wherever he is- it’s certainly not close to Seokjin’s. The air feels colder here- closer to winter than to summer. Strange- he can almost see his breath exhaled in a cloud of blue when he heaves a shaking breath.

- He’s scared for about half a moment- before he hears the telltale whistle of dragon wings- almost unnoticeable- and he see’s the black wings faintly in the night sky, blocking out the stars. A sight he can recognize only because he’s seen it before countless times. Thank god- he thinks- because where ever he’s managed to end up Yoongi has still found him.

- He starts to run, almost calling out his name. He ends up face to face with him after Yoongi lands soundlessly knowing to stay a little ways back incase his dad doesn’t see him yet. Yoongi’s eyes sparking with a familiar yellow glow when he runs forward to greet him. “I don’t know what happened dad, one moment I was there and now I’m-”

- It surprises him- when Yoongi opens his maw and spits fire.

- He flinches, but it only takes him opening his eyes realizing that he’s not dead he’s not burning. The fire isn’t going around him- but through him he realizes when he holds his hand up. He’s confused- his mind tries to justify that it’s just a spell- the last few weeks have led him to assume that- the amount of charms that he’d begged and bugged Seokjin to put on him. (Much to the elder's frustration when the vast majority of spells just don’t work) Some sort of protective charm it must be. Like the one on his scarf that Seokjin had seemed so so interested in.

- He hears the screaming- the ear-piercing shrieking as the people run out of their houses- a gong sounds. But its already too late. “Dad- you’ve got to stop why are you-” but Yoongi just barrels through him, pulling down the roof of a house with one grab of a claw. Jungkook realizes that he must be dreaming when he tries to grab a sword sitting by the stoop of one of the houses and his hand goes straight through the handle.

- Jungkook stares at his hand for a moment- Dreaming- this must be a dream- that’s the only justification for why Yoongi would be doing this- why he would ignore Jungkook and why he would be hurting all of these people.

- All of the carnage- the people burning and screaming- some of them running, trying to roll on the ground to put their burning clothes out. Jungkook stands in the middle of it all- powerless to do anything. Jungkook watches as Yoongi tosses one back against a tree. The mans back breaking with an audible shatter that jars his ears.

- When the carnage stops He’s crying, climbing over a broken house. looking into the face of a charred corpse when Yoongi finally shifts human. “Dad” he’s crying when he tries to walk to him. “Why did you do this? Why did you hurt these people? Please I need to know- I can’t-”

- Yoongi doesn’t respond, looks at the surrounding world with disgust and hatred, and turns to walk away- he can’t hear Jungkook- can’t hear him at all. “FUCK- JUST LOOK AT ME GOD DAMN IT!” Jungkook shouts, near hysterical. He feels his words startle something- a small flinch under the boards in his feet. And suddenly a shrill crying starts up.

- That makes Yoongi turns at that, surprise in his face, he moves a heavy board and Jungkook moves to let him. He recognizes the red baby blanket first- how many times had he twined that little thing around his neck- loving the familiar comfort of the fabric. The squirming little thing is small- probably no more than 6 months old at the most, blood on his cheek.

- Jungkook reaches a hand to touch the scar on his face. “That’s me isn’t It.” no one is there to answer it as he watches. Looks- and doesn’t understand what he’s seeing.

- It’s- this is a memory- not a dream.

- The baby version of himself settles into Yoongi’s arms and Jungkook watches his father look at him. A sudden gentleness in his eyes. “Don’t- don’t leave me here dad- don’t let me die please” his words fall on unhearing ears but the rain starts up again. And Jungkook watches as Yoongi uses his body to shield the small red mass from the deluge above. His words are soft and shaky, “it’s okay- don’t cry- it’s gonna be fine I’ll- I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

- A tugging fixes in his gut- a feeling like he’s just about to vomit and then he’s thrown into the next memory. He’s at the cottage. The one he barely remembers- but the leaky roof, the chicken coup, and the front porch- that he knows. The times he’d fallen up those two steps. The soft feeling of a baby chick in his hands, a drop of water falling on his cheek- that he remembers.

- Unlike before- this world is all golden tones- the trees shining bright green. A happy memory at golden hour. And on the front porch leaning against the railing- you and Yoongi stand a few inches apart, and he can tell just by looking at you that you haven’t quite fallen in love yet.

- Your voices low- you don’t seem to notice Jungkook standing in the grass, but he hadn’t really expected either of you to see him at this point. To his left- he hears a noise- a startling in the chicken coop, a chicken indignant at being bothered, a small body chasseing them.

- “You’ve never told me- how you got Jungkook you know? And if we’re going to do this co-parenting thing, I feel like that’s something I should know.” Your words knock Jungkook’s attention from the younger version of himself back to you both. Standing next to each other- not letting your shoulders brush, but he see’s you lean a little and gathers that you might want too.

- “Do you want the truth- or a pretty lie?” your smile is small, Yoongi’s too. “The truth is preferable- we’ll have more than enough time to lie to each other”

- “Did you kill his parents?” Jungkook can tell the sudden question startles Yoongi. By the way his jaw goes tight and his eyes go down. Won’t meet yours. “It’s alright if you did- not much we can do about it now.”

- “Are you sure?” Yoongi asks, “yes- I think if we raise him at all well- when he finds out- it will hurt sure. But if we raise him well enough he’ll know that you didn’t have a choice.” Your voice dies in your throat. When you see Yoongi’s crestfallen expression. “Yoongi what are you thinking?”

- “I’m thinking that He’ll hate me when he finds out- he should hate me- you should hate me- do you know how many humans I’ve killed? How much blood is on my hands? You shouldn’t- I shouldn’t-’”

- Jungkook sees Yoongi flinch back when you reach out to him- on the porch, Jungkook can hear a giggle- a small black head of hair that must be his own poking up in the tall grass. Chasing a chicken through the underbrush in his direction. God- he doesn’t ever remember being that small.

“Yoongi” you try to stop him as he spills out into the soft grass. A few feet from where Jungkook stands. Golden light shining overly bright in his black horns. “I should go.”

- You look scared when you ask, “are you going to come back?” “I don’t know” he’s being honest Jungkook realizes, hand on the railing. You look so much younger than Jungkook ever remembers seeing you.

- The chicken dashes across Jungkook’s path, and in the grass- a small body tottels- Jungkook looks down at himself, so small and innocent- even now- adventurous. And for a brief moment, he stares into his own eyes- and sees a flash of curiosity in his child self’s face. Jungkook looks around to find something his child self might be staring at and finds nothing but himself. The young boy reaches up a hand and lets out a happy giggle- pointing at Jungkook like he can see him.

- The next moment is much like the first, all dark and black tones. Only this time the earth is sandy and sooty beneath his feet. There are so many of Hobi’s kind here- great big birdlike dragons. But it’s also as chaotic as the first. The world on fire red feathers falling from the sky. Jungkook is inside of an unfamiliar house looking out the window.

- Jungkook can hear the men shouting outside, as he looks around the house- the nest. It’s a simple accept for the golden plate wear and the shining tapestry on the wall. He hears a crash a roar. And massive being crashes into the doorway as fire roars outside. The dragon shifts- the woman limping in her human form- her golden horns polished and sharpened to points on either side of her cheeks.

- “Hoseok! Hoseok baby we have to go- go with your sister and get out of here” a small redhead- his soulmates head pokes up from underneath the kitchen table his horn catches on the edge as he stands sending the gold plate wear clanging to the ground. He runs for the woman, his little hands fisting in her long patterned skirt. “No! I won’t leave without you alpha!” the woman grabs a long sword hanging by the door. “Stay here- your sister will be back in a moment! I can’t stay my little hatchling” she turns away, tearing Hoseok’s hands from where they clutch at her skirt forcefully.

- And Jungkook watches, horror-stricken as Hoseok heads out after her. So small, shouldering his arms as he heads out into the bloodbath- too young to understand. Too young to understand and yet Jungkook knows that Hoseok will grow up a lot today- that he won’t ever really be the same. “Stop Hobi- you can’t“ Hoseok’s head whips around at the last moment, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion, looking around the room for the source of the voice- but sees nothing. Continuing on after a moment.

- The next few memories are a flurry- go too fast for Jungkook to really gather what they mean, one after another. The memories piling over each other like pages in a book. Hoseok in dragon form looking down at a younger version of himself, his tongue flicking out to lick at his cheek. Dialogue from you and Yoongi spoken through the darkness. “How did this happen- how did they get through the mountains?”

- Yoongi’s voice answering your question. “Happens more often than you think- it’s easier to get through in the south- where the snow doesn’t fall as thick. My parents died in much the same way.” The fog around Jungkook thickens, sinking into his lungs and choking him. Jimin voice- not yours, delicate and lilting. The sensation of a hand dragging through his hair. Asleep by a fireplace with the taste of the salty ocean on his tongue.

- “Dragons and humans are like separate sides of the same coin- can’t stab one without running through the other.” Yoongi agreeing, “A nest gets raided- and a dragon like me gets sent to kill a whole town. If we keep fighting- the bloodshed is never going to end Namjoon.”

- The next time Jungkook lands on even footing, he’s in the cave in the mountains and everything is golden again. He can see out the wide opening from this angle, and when he sees the green dragon in the sky circling above. He remembers this day, the first time he’d seen a dragon that wasn’t Hobi or Yoongi. He remembers how scared he’d been- Yoongi attacking with an almost feral power. He looks back into the cave as the dragon descends to your spot in the rocks waiting for his father to take action and protect you.

- But Yoongi still isn’t turning, still doesn’t see what’s about to happen, Jungkook’s anxiety builds as he sees the dragon start into a low spiral. Spotted you in the rocks. Jungkook looks down and sees a red head and a black head dancing here and there as they play a game that Jungkook’s forgotten the rules of. Looking back at Yoongi- any moment now- Yoongi will realize what’s about to happen, any moment now he’ll come to your rescue.

- But time ekes on- precious seconds- his father will be too late if he doesn’t go now. And you will die. Jungkook doesn’t think- just runs over and tugs- actually tugs on Yoongi’s sleeve.

- This time- his hand doesn’t just go through Yoongi, this time he actually touches him. “Did you want a snack?” Jungkook tugs again, because Yoongi still isn’t turning. When Yoongi turns he still sees no one there. He calls his name once, and then Hobi’s and by that time he sees, he’s jumping through the opening to fly to your aid leaving Jungkook standing in that cave.

- Jungkook feels his shoulders curl in on himself, “I want to go home- please just- take me back” and the cloud that surrounds him- what can only be magic- listens to him.

- This is different than Jimin's plant magic, the wordless sort of magic that has the world leaning in. The kind makes the world stop in place and turn around him. Every inch of intent spoken by his mouth an order that time will bow too.

- If dragons and humans are two sides of the same coin- then so are Seokjin and Jungkook.

- Jungkook wakes up- his eyes shooting open in the bubble- no whites of his eyes, only bright blue. The bubble bursts in a flash of power and light that hits you like a gale. Its only Yoongi’s quick thinking that keeps you and Hoseok from falling backward. Even Seokjin has to bring up an arm to shield his eyes from the flash of blinding light. Jungkook hits the floor with his hands out, catching himself before he falls.

- “I don’t hate you” is the first thing he says when he lifts his head, chest heaving scrambling to his feet. Running to Yoongi without a second thought tears in is eyes.

- “What- Kookie-“ Yoongi barely comprehends his youngest throwing his arms around his neck, pulling him in close tightly for a bruising hug. “it’s okay- you’re safe now Jungkook” Jungkook pulls back- a smile in his face and tears in his eyes. “Dad I really don’t- I saw it- I saw you- the night you got me- and you need to believe me- I don’t hate you.”

- “Jungkook what are you talking about,” Hoseok asks, disbelieving, so relieved to feel the soulbond back in place in his chest that he’s breathless. Jungkook looks between your faces- one after the other. Smiling so wide his nose scrunches. “I saw it- your memories, the night you found me! I was going to be a dragon hunter wasn’t I? But I wouldn’t have wanted to be. That’s why you didn’t let me fight, but I love you guys- I’d never hurt you- I understand why you did what you did and this doesn’t change a thing- I understand everything now.”

- “Well that makes one of us- is anyone going to tell me what just happened?” Hoseok snarks. “I don’t know either Hobi,” you say, shaking your head. But Yoongi is almost crying as Jungkook’s words hit him. Because how could it be? how does he know? and does he really understand? His first instinct is to believe that Jungkook couldn't. but then, when he sees Jungkook’s face, sad- but not angry- not at Yoongi at least, all of the fight going out of him.

- That’s the second time Jungkook ever sees his father cry. Touching his cheek and pulling him in. “My little hatchling I-“ he’s at a loss for words, something that feels like pride and hope clawing its way- vicious and golden up through his chest.

- Yoongi’s arms reach out- tugging the four of you close- he can barely get his arms around you all- the three people that matter the most in the world to him. All in one spot. Yoongi holds onto the three of you tighter, like his own arms will be enough to shield them from the horrors of the world.

- Besides all of you Seokjin falls to his knees, his eyes unable to leave Jungkook. Uneven breath heaving in his chest- his focus- his whole world narrowing down to Jungkook too.

- “I’m not- I’m not alone- I can’t believe it- I-”

- The four of you look up where Seokjin sits, pulling himself over on his knees his trembling hands reaching out for Jungkook. A part of you that feels fiercely protective wants to reach out and stop him from touching your son- too soon after having him in mortal peril. “Seokjin- what do you mean?” beside you, Hoseok straightens up; letting out a small sigh of relief- this has been a stressful 30 minutes- that’s for certain.

- “Hold out your arm Jungkook” Jungkook does, where once his forearms had been bare, now a light hovers below his skin. a line of brilliantly glowing blue the length of his forearm. The magic wand embedded in his skin where it will sit for the end of time- or until Jungkook dies- whichever comes first.

- The veins in his arms glowing too- taking the magic to the rest of his body. Not rejecting it at all- but growing to accommodate the magic, which has chosen Jungkook as his host.

- The four of you huddle around him, and when Hoseok tries to reach out and touch it too- a little bolt of lightning sparks and shocks him he flinches But reaches forward again- in awe anyway. Pleased to find the same thing doesn’t happen the second time when he clenches the hand of his soul-bonded partner.

- “If you where human bonding with the wand would have killed you” Seokjin’s hands are soft on Jungkook’s arm as he traces the line of the wand almost lovingly. “What does it mean” Jungkook breathes, the wand feels Bulging and hard underneath Jungkook’s skin not uncomfortable, but not pleasant either.

- “It means that you’re not human Jungkook- you’re a sorcerer like me.”

I know times are tough on all of us, but if you like reading my stories please donate to my Kofi to help support my work!

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Text

The Paths We Take

Pairing: Fairy King!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, mentions of stalking.

Words: 2789.

Summary: As your little sister has been kidnapped by the fair folk, you have to set her free, exchanging your life for hers.

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"Remember, you shall not give him your name." The old woman told you, putting a little iron coin into your mouth. "Wait for him to give you his word. Unless he does, neither you nor your sister are safe."

You bowed your head to her, thankful for all her advices that could save your life - this woman was the only one to escape faerie ring and stay alive. She was a young girl when she got lost and returned when her hair turned grey, her skin wrinkled. Her scarred face warned the ones wandering the woods from going too far to the north.

"Do not be afraid." She said gently, caressing your cheek wet from tears with her rough, work-weary hand. "Your sister is still alive. Do everything right, and you will set her free."

You nodded and lifted a heavy basket filled with jugs and jars with wine, honey and butter, your offering to the wee folk to pass safely. If not your stupid, uncaring sister, you would never have to set your foot so far into the forest. But with no one to seek protection from, you had to go there yourself.

If only your sister didn't spend her days dancing in the woods despite all your warnings. You admitted you didn't raise her well, yet with no one by your side you spent all your time trying to provide for the both of you - life in this little village surrounded by woods had never been an easy one, especially for orphans.

As she had never listened to your pleas, no wonder one day your sister didn't return. The villagers had immediately gathered to start the search, but the only thing they found was a piece of your sister's dress hanging on a bush right near the faerie ring. Everyone knew then what had happened to her, and no one was ready to risk their life to save a silly young girl who didn't know better but enter the realm of the fair folk. People were helpless against the faeries, and many of the villagers had lost their loved ones to them. You could still find human bones if you went too far into the woods.

The basket was heavy, and you exhaled loudly as you set your foot outside of the elderly woman's hut, looking at the dark gigantic trees far away with worry. The woman told you that you wouldn't return - you would ask the fairies to take you away instead of your poor little sister.

"Wait, Y/N!" You heard someone's voice and turned around to see another woman, her hair all grey too despite her age - she was the one who had lost her only daugther to the wee folk a few years back. Since then she had aged faster than any other woman in the village. "I... I have something to help you!"

You blinked when she got close to you and reached out to your face, a little bottle in her hand. You closed her eyes as she rubbed a strange smelling salve into your eyelid, covering your eye with something that made you feel like someone poured a bucket of cold water over your head. Inhaling deeply, you opened your eyes and realized one eye was seeing much better than the other. The objects became sharper, the colors more bright as you stared in the woman's face with confusion. What was that?

"This is what one witch gave me when I was looking for my daughter." She whispered quietly as if she was afraid the Fae would hear her. "Now they won't fool you with their glamor. But don't show them you can see everything!"

"I won't." You assured the woman quickly and squeezed her shoulder gratefully. "God bless you for your kindness."

She nodded and hurried away, hiding the bottle inside her long worn out dress and never looking back at you. You knew she was scared. No one dared to come with you to the faerie ring, afraid to be tacken away by the creatures they feared and detested. Yet you were grateful to the woman - she knew how much it hurt to lose your beloved ones to the fair folk.

Turning to the woods, you licked the iron coin in your mouth and pushed it to the side, pouching it in your cheek. It didn't feel pleasant, but it was the least of your worries now as you went closer and closer to the gloomy forest, thinking of all the dangers it hid. Why did you sister go there? Why didn't she dance somewhere on the meadow, basking in the sun? What made her forget all the warnings every child was given?

Biting your cheek, you stepped inside the forest and clenched your fists, following the path an elderly woman had showed you. You stopped near the huge stump, taking a few pieces of fresh bread out of your basket and placing them on an improvised wooden altar for little forest sprites as an offering. Although you didn't need them to guide you, you asked them not to play with your path, twisting it such way you might end in the village again instead of the faerie ring. Losing their favor was not wise.

As you moved further, you sensed yourself speeding up despite feeling lightweight as if you were a little feather carried by the wind. For a moment you felt frightened, but then realized the sprites took a liking to the offering you brought them and helped you on your way. Did they know why you were coming so far into the woods? Maybe they did.

The further you moved, the more nervous you became, afraid to put your head up and look upon your surroundings - you saw elderflower glowing on your left and averted your eyes immediately, afraid to be charmed before you reached your destination. Then a few blue sparkles lit up the trees to your right, and you hurried further into the woods, wiping away your tears. You could make it. You could save your sister despite fairies' attempts to charm or scare you away.

Soon you moved to the left, leaving the path, and saw the ring formed by those little white mushrooms. It looked odd as the ring was the perfect round shape as if someone purposely made it.

Sighing heavily, you had doused your lantern and set it on the grass. Dear God, you were truly doing it. Licking the iron coin in your mouth, you pressed your lips into a thin line and stepped inside the ring, closing your eyes for a second. The moment you were past the line of mushrooms, your senses were clouded, your head light, your body almost flowing in the air - you could feel you entered the other realm as the forest lit up around you, and you heard the laugh and charming voices.

When you opened your eyes, you saw a great fire and many strange-looking creatures circling it. They danced, screamed, laughed and cried as they sat together, certainly celebrating something, and you stared at them in awe, blinking and unable to move. Your left eye showed you graceful fairies with their long curly hair laying on their shoulders, their faces strikingly beautiful, their bodies glowing warmly as they sat close to the fire. But your right eye, the one covered with that salve... it showed you ugly, revolting creatures with their fingers crooked, their faces dry and wrinkled, tree branches piercing their backs, their silky clothes being just some dirty rags. Not all the fairies looked distgusting, but many, many of them did. You almost flinched when they looked at you, standing in the ring with your large basket full of food and wine.

You didn't see the man sitting on what appeared to be a throne on the other side of the cirle, hid by the flames of the fire, but once he rose to his feet everyone fell silent. He was tall, well-built, looking stronger than any man in the village, his dress made out of pure golden threads. Certainly, his glamor spell was way stronger than the charmed salve made by the witch as both your eyes showed only one of his forms, unlike the other fairies.

He was the fae's lord, you realized as you bowed deeply, refusing to look him into his deep blue eyes. You didn't even see his face clearly as you stared at your own shoes, clenching the basket.

"What a lovely human I see." The man said, and you heard the wee folk chuckling at his words, whispering something to each other. "Will you give me your name, little one?"

You gulped and froze on the spot. You knew well you should never respond to the fae's question with your name as you would simply hand them the power over you with it, "giving" yourself to them. But staying silent was considered rude, nonetheless.

"Forgive me, lord fae, for I cannot. But I can tell you it is Acantha."

A thorn. It wasn't your true name, of course, as even saying, not giving it to the fair folk was dangerous and unwise. The lord fae knew it well, of course, and narrowed his eyes at you, smiling.

"My name is Steven, little one. I am the King of the Fae, and this forest belongs to me just like the meadows, fields, rivers, and lakes." Though he was smiling, it didn't reach his eyes - you didn't realize you weren't bowing to him anymore and stared at his pale face, glowing in the dark. "Why did you come here, little one? What are you searching for?"

As you heard nasty cackling to your right, you clenched your teeth, realizing these very creatures had trapped your poor sister for their fun. Now you saw many of them drinking not only ambrosia and wine, but also a dark red liquid that looked like blood.

Murderers. Ugly beasts banished by God himself to all the darkest places, unworthy of sunlight. Did they claim they owned the meadows and rivers and lakes? No, the villagers did. And they would drive out and kill all the fair folk with iron knives and pitchforks who would dare to come out the woods. The forest was the only place humans were afraid to enter.

Gritting your teeth, you bowed your head again and gently set the basket in front of the fairy's circle, taking a step away. You had to keep calm. You needed to get your sister out.

"I am searching for my sister, fae lord. She's a silly little thing, and I'm afraid she took the wrong path in the forest, disturbing your kind folk with her dancing." You said, choosing your words wisely and not looking at anyone, savouring the taste of iron in your mouth. The coin was muffling your words, but no fairy had sensed anything yet. "I came to plead you for help, fae lord. Please, bring her to me, let her come back to the realm she belongs to safely, and I will give you whatever you would like me to."

You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut. You said it. You just exchanged your life with hers. If he took your word, you would be trapped here, in this cursed place belonging to The Unseelie Court.

The King looked content with you being so courteous, your offering very generous for a simple village girl, indeed. He motioned to two forest sprites to bring your basket to him and pulled a jug filled with the finest wine you could find, setting it near his thrones while handing the basket to others. As they flew to it, ripping it apart and claiming whatever they could reach, you bit down on your tongue, feeling utterly disgusted. All of them deserved a pair of shoes made from branding iron.

"You have good manners, little one." The King smiled at you, and the next moment he wasn't standing near his throne made from gold and decorated with gemstones shining in the dark, but cupping your chin as he stared down at you, his warm breath tickling your skin. "You brought a nice offering. I will give your sister back to you, and sprites will escourt her to your people. I give you my word."

Your eyes went wide. He said exactly what you wanted him to, and it only took you an offering and a plea. How was it possible? You knew well how cunning, haughty, and treacherous the wee folk could be. But the King himself gave you his word. It was an oath the fae couldn't break.

Before you could bow your head again and express your gratitude, however, the King had suddenly put his warm palms on your shoulders and turned you around, forcing you to stare at the procession, several fairies leading your still dancing sister to the fire. You could see her feet bleeding, but she had that strange little smile stretching his lips and enlightening his eyes as she kept moving, laughing and throwing her hands into the air. Her clothes were dirty, her hair disheveled, yet she didn't see it, caring about nothing but dancing.

You realized you were crying only when the King gently wiped your cheek with his palm.

"Set her free once she steps out the ring." He said as fairies lured her to that little circle of mushrooms. "Bring her home safely and make her forget all that she saw. Do not ever let her come back."

You tried to make a step towards her, take her into your embrace, kiss her cheeks, whisper her to never set her foot into the forest again, and ask her to promise she would take care of herself, but the King still had his hands on your shoulders, and his grip was becoming tighter and tighter, forcing you to stay still despite all your attempts to run to her. He wouldn't let you tell goodbye to your own sister. You were made to watch as she was taken away from you, and your eyes were full with tears again. Dear Lord, why? Why didn't he let you approach her for a mere minute? You wanted to scream and cry, but realized you couldn't open your mouth. The Fae King had charmed you.

Once your sister disappeared inside the faerie ring, you had collapsed to the ground, your fingers buried into your hair, pulling at the roots in despair. You would never see that little girl again. Cruel laugh of the fairies surrounding you made you face wet from all the humiliation and pain.

"Shhh." You heard the Fae King speaking as he got down to you and caressed your hair gently. "It will be alright. She will live her life like all humans do, and you will stay here and forget all your sorrows."

You cried harder at his words, and an iron coin the elderly woman gave you slipped on your tongue. The King had immediately reached out to your face and opened his hand, looking at you patiently. Now he knew you carried a coin in your mouth.

Pausing for a moment, you realized it was meaningless: it was over now. You were in the hands of the wee folk, and no one would come to save you. You submitted, dropping a coin to the fae lord's hand - he hissed as it burnt his skin, but once he clenched his huge fist the coin disappeared as if you had never brought it in your mouth.

"See? It's easy, little one." The fairy murmured, dropping a kiss to the top of your head and making you turn your face up as he wiped the remains of the salve from your eyelid - he saw it, too. In the next moment the darkness became light, and ugly creatures surrounding you turned into the most beautiful beings you had ever seen. "You will forget. Don't you know you were born under the Milk Moon, little one? You shouldn't live the life full of hardships as a peasants' daughter. You deserve to be happy in my lands."

With me, you could hear his whisper inside your head.

He didn't tell you he had been watching you gathering herbs and berries in his forest close to the village for years. He didn't tell you he lured your sister into the faerie ring, knowing you would follow and try to save her, ready to trade your own life for hers.

You didn't tell him you kept an iron nail in the pocket of your dress, prepared to fight for your life till the very end. You weren't born to become a little doll of the Fairy King, and you were ready to prove it.

________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lovelydarkdaydream

#steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers #captain america #yandere

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allandoflimbo · 4 years

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Can you write one where one day the team is in the compound and Bucky goes to show them something on the TV and his phone is connected to it and he accidentally shows everyone a video of him touching himself and he gets embarrassed and reader starts blushing because she has a crush on him and then after that they are embarrassed because Bucky likes her too and then he kisses her or more.

Live Show

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word count: 2,515

Rating: M

“We’re all going to the living room, something about a movie night. You in?”

You quickly noted the hopeful and enthusiastic tone in your friend’s voice. Wanda was still slightly drunk from the tequila shot you had made her take with you that evening after an exhausting mission in Riga.

“I don’t know.”

“Come on.” Wanda grabbed onto your arm, pulling you halfway out of your room and into the hallway. You had barely been settled into your quarters when she had stopped you dead in your tracks. Sometimes you cursed the beautiful girl in your head for being so eager to always have a good time, not knowing how she had the energy, but other times you just wanted to rest. You had barely made it out alive tonight, the wound from 9mm bullet that had grazed your upper shoulder and was not yet fully healed. How awful was it that you just wanted to take a hot shower and a nap?

“Bucky will be there.” The mention of his name made your upper belly catapult and you pursed your lips, looking away from her knowing eyes.

“Stop, Wanda.” You looked down at yourself and half considered actually joining her after she mentioned Bucky would be there, “I need a shower. I was hoping the shots were good enough to last us into the night.” You excused halfheartedly. Your eyes darted down the hall that led into the main room and you wondered if he was already there.

Bucky Barnes was a leanly built, dark haired, and blue eyed good man that you had harbored a crush for ever since you met him on a mission along side Sam Wilson in Serbia. As much as you tried to avoid his presence after joining the team, it was no denying that you were irrevocably attracted to him. You always wondered what he looked like under his tactical gear. Of course Wanda knew about your crush, she was your best friend.

“Go take your shower and then come. I won’t take no for an answer.” She said smugly. She let go of your arm and leaned back on the balls of her feet.

The edge of your lips perk up. Damn her for being so sweet and adorable, it practically made you cave.

“Fine, I’ll be out in a few minutes,” you grabbed her shoulder as you watched and noticed her lean way too far back and you spun her slightly around in the direction of the kitchen, “you go sober up. Drink water, Wanda.”

She waved over her shoulder with a huff and you watched with a chuckle. You felt the butterflies flutter in your tummy at the thought of seeing Bucky soon — hopefully gaining a seat next to him on the couch.

The moment you stepped out of the shower you dried off and quickly slipped on a pair of grey Nike sweats and a white T-shirt. You let your damp hair flow down your back, deciding you’d let it air dry for the rest of the night. Some of the strands began to seep in through the back of your shirt as you stepped into the hallway, closing your door.

Sam met you at your side as he came up behind you. “Those make your ass look fantastic.”

“Fuck you, Sam.” You pulled out your phone from your pocket.

He smiled. “I’m kidding. It looks okay.”

You snapped your head at him, smiling wide.

“Thanks.”

He dropped a playful arm around your shoulders and brought you into his hide for a tight hug. You chuckled, sliding your phone back into your pocket after seeing you had no new notifications.

Stepping into the dark living room that was illuminated but the blue glow of the moderate sixty inch television, your eyes quickly scanned the area. Vision and Wanda were already huddled up in the corner of the couch and, of course, Bucky was sitting off to the side. He wore a white shirt similar to yours and black sweats that hugged his thighs. The sight made you want to moan. He was looking through his phone, his legs spread apart, and a forearm on each knee as he looked used it. Sam made a snarky comment to him, something about looking gloomy, and Bucky laughed.

His eyes snapped up just long enough for your gaze to meet. His features softened as he looked at you and couldn’t help but instinctually bite your lip, but bashfully look away at the same time. You followed behind Sam and he took a seat on Bucky’s right and you to his left by the arm of the couch.

His leg radiated off heat like a furnace and it made your skin burn. You watched as he continued to look through his phone and your eyes darted down to his legs again. You wondered what they felt like — if they felt as hard as they looked. You then looked at his hands, the veins making you itch to feel them on your skin.

You couldn’t help a small groan that left your lips and your quickly catch your slip, clearing your throat embarrassingly loud. What was wrong with you? For all you knew, Bucky could be this total gentleman, just like the rumors you heard about him back when he was dating girls in nineteen forty-five. He was also a professional killer — killer of evil that is. He’s the best Avenger the public has seen since Steve’s passing. He was a great man, yet here you were having filthy and dirty thoughts about him.

Who even knew if he still thinks about sex like that? He probably has better and more important things to worry about.

“Can you hurry, I’m getting sleepy.” Wanda complained from her side of the couch.

“I’m trying to find it.” Bucky mumbled.

Your brows furrow together in confused. “What are we looking for?” “Hulu’s not working on the tv, so I’m just going to airdrop it from my phone.” Bucky says.

You smirked.

“You know what airdrop is, Voltaire?” Sam asks sarcastically.

Bucky ignores Sam completely as he straightens out his back. He spreads his legs just a little wider and his left leg ends up hitting yours.

Your body stiffens at the contact.

“Got it. I think.” You mumbles under his breath. You’re not paying attention to what he’s doing, you don’t even offer help as you note him moving around way too long on his phone for someone who simply needs to press the airdrop feature. Instead you’re focused on the muscles of his back as they flex. His shirt is begging to be ripped by your hands and you suddenly remember the one moment you both had a few weeks ago when you were trying to pass him in the kitchen and you felt him graze your lower back with his hand as you did so. He had smiled so good and —

moaning.

Your stomach flips.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop —“

Your cheeks grow hot at the voice and suddenly the room is in a ball of commotion and your leg is cold. Bucky had gotten up and his hand was moving frantically over his phone, the other over the remote control. Your eyes are on the tv and you can’t believe what you are seeing.

Holy hell.

There was Bucky Barnes, his phone plopped up on something as he sat in front of the camera, legs spread. Except this time he wasn’t wearing anything at all. His abs clenched deliciously slow as his hand stroked the tip of his thick cock. His face was contorted in pleasure, his lips pink and full.

“Right there…”

“Bucky, what the hell!” “Dude, turn this shit off. What did you touch?” “Give it to me.” “Just exit it out of it!” “The control, give me the control.”

“Oh, my god.” Is Wanda’s exclamation in her tiny voice as she hides her face behind her hands.

“I’m trying. Oh my god.” Bucky’s voice wavered as he walks up to the tv, “i’m turning it off, don’t look at it.”

You were stunned, still haven’t said a single word.

“Right there, right there…” he panted as his hand focused on his mushroom tip, “Gonna make me cum.”

Those were the last few words that echoed around the room before the tv shut off and everyone was enveloped in total darkness and silence.

Sam’s finger was on the control on the power button, a big amused smug on his face. Bucky, on the other hand, was running a hand over his face and then through his hair. He pulled on the strands and his arms and back flexed again.

You gulped, feeling the heat in your cheeks and core grow even more.

“Well, that was fun.” Sam says.

“Shut up.” Bucky groaned, clearly upset and embarrassed.

“Come on, Bucky. It happens. We all do it.” Sam says with a shrug. You were happy it was dark in there so no one could see how red you were. You needed to get out of there, you needed some air or at least some water.

We all do it.

Bucky took a deep breath and then turned to Sam, “Everyone close their eyes, you turn it back on and just exit out of it and put the damn movie on.” Bucky mumbles, quickly handing Sam his phone.

Sam takes it from him with a chuckle. You watch from your peripheral as Bucky quickly makes a deadline for the kitchen. You watch as he fumbles his way into opening the fridge and then turning away from all of you to grab a mug in the cabinet.

Part of you felt bad. Should you say something?

You cleared your throat.

“I’m gonna get some water.” You announce, pushing yourself off the couch.

You hear Sam snicker behind you and it takes all your muster to not turn around and slap him.

It’s not until you’re halfway to the kitchen that your curse yourself for deciding to do this. What were you even going to say?

Bucky takes a sip of whatever he poured himself from the mug, and turns to face the wall. Just then his eye catches yours.

Damn it. No turning back now.

It takes you a cup of water and some awkward sipping next to each other before you have the guts to speak up.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You say quietly, even though Sam already got the movie started so they probably wouldn’t even hear.

You watch Bucky’s human hand tighten around the white mug. It’s then that you catch the whiff of tangy orange juice in the air.

“Sam is right, we all do it.” Bucky perks a brow at this and you immediately regret what you said, “I mean, it’s nothing you should be ashamed of.” Bucky puts his now empty cup in the sink and you do the same. You catch both you and him off guard as you reach out to grab his arm, “hey.”

He looks up at you suddenly, his pretty lips open and begging. You look down at them and he catches you.

Your name leaves his lips in a whisper, “It’s still embarrassing, I don’t want them to see that,” your eyes meet and the air between you is intense. You feel your breathing come out quicker as his own gaze drifts down to your lips and then back to your eyes again. He swallows thickly, “especially you.”

You are overwhelmed by the feeling of rejection that slams into you at his words. You take your hand off his arm like its on fire and he watches your movements like a hawk. He notices your reaction to his words and he wants to take them back immediately, but your next moves are way too quick for him to process. You nod quickly, give him a short smile that doesn’t necessarily reach your eyes, and walk back to the couch to watch the rest of the film.

Sitting next to him doesn’t end up being as nicely as you had hoped, and when it’s over you don’t even give him a proper goodbye. You rush into your quarters as fast as you possibly can, already thinking about escaping his heady aura.

You pull back the covers of your bed and run a hand through your hair. You knew your crush for him was only getting deeper by the second, but this was insane. How were you even going to be able to work around him this way?

You let out a long breath, preparing to head into the bathroom to brush your teeth when you hear a knock at your door.

Your brows knit together, and when you open your door you’re surprised to see Bucky leaning against the door frame.

You raise a brown and prepare your voice to not sound as vulnerable as your felt. “Hey.”

There’s a casual strand of hair over his forehead and he stares at you with a look you can’t pin point. He licks his lips and looks away.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet.

“What’s wrong?” You ask seriously.

“I—,” he takes a deep breath. He takes his hand off the door frame and runs it back through his hair, pushing that strand off his skin. His blue eyes are now more revealing than ever, “Earlier, when I said especially you,” you feel your skin heat up at the reminder of what happened earlier, what you had seen, and you notice it has the same effect on him as his own cheeks grow a blush hue.

“Look, Bucky, I get it. You said you were embarrassed —”

He shakes his head, “No, that’s not why.” He looks down at his feet and bites his lip before look up at you through thick lashes and a heavy gaze, “Can I come in?”

You’re slightly taken aback and also confused by his request but you nod.

You don’t even have the door closed all the way before you feel his hand on your neck. He’s spinning you around and he’s got your head up against the door. You only catch a quick glimpse of his eyes on your lips before he’s kissing you.

It’s possibly the sweetest and most tender kiss you’ve ever received in your life and it has your toes curling into the wooden floor beneath you. His metal grip tightens on your waist and he grounds his hips into yours, making you moan. His kisses slow down to pecks and he has you breathing hard when he pulls away. You’re speechless as he caresses your cheek with his thumb.

“I meant especially you because when I recorded that, I was thinking about you.” His voice is raspy and thick in the air. You feel your pussy clench around nothing at his vulgar words. “You deserve better than that.”

Your eyes look down to his lips, the lust taking over you in heavy waves. You lean in and kiss him softly.

“I do deserve better,” Bucky’s face crumbles slightly at your words, “I deserve a live show.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes smut #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfiction

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 4 years

Text

Trinkets, Valuable, 9: More useful than simple baubles touched mystery, these items have either a clear purpose, a reliable ability or are made from a fairly costly material. The items could fetch fair prices to collectors of the strange, jewelers, antique or art dealers or simply to barter with if the owner is short on actual currency.

A collection of mink furs and lightweight silver plating expertly tailored to resemble a suit of plate armor. This was either created as some sort of artistic expression or for a foppish noble who wanted to play at looking like a knight.

A tiny adamantine box filled with curiously strong mints that refills every week.

Portable Shade: A circle of black silk three feet in diameter, but can be folded up into the size of a handkerchief. When unfolded, the material floats into the air and hovers over the bearer's head, moving as he does but no more than 30 feet per round. It automatically tilts to block the sun's rays, providing all the benefits of a parasol, but leaving the bearer's hands free for combat or spellcasting. Folding up a portable shade (An action equivalent to drawing a weapon) ends its effect.

A whale shaped, crystal bottle filled with ambergris.

An ivory signal horn that produced a clear, even, high note. The noise isn't loud, exactly more like it makes everything else quiet around it so that it's instantly the only sound in the area and everything resonated with its pure, simple strength. It is natural and perfect, blowing a single note that sounds like a grand chord before fading away like it had never been.

A large gear of solid iron, enchanted to turn constantly by means of a circular magical diagram inscribed on its face. Although it turns slowly, it does so with apparently unlimited torque; it will turn at that constant rate no matter how much resistance is put on it.

A gold pocket watch with an acorn engraved on the cover. On the inside of the cover will be an illusionary image of the most heinous deed the bearer has ever committed.

A heavy stock business card, coated in wax and decorated with a stylized gold trim. Precisely calligraphed words at the bottom detail how the bearer is a member of the imperial household of Yaret and is entitled the protection of the Yaret name. There is a red thumbprint is the center of the card and the entire object looks impressively difficult to counterfeit. Knowledgeable PC's will recognize the house of Yaret as an ancient noble family with significant political clout.

A shimmering violin carved from elderwood. The instrument has a deep amethyst luster and golden inscriptions in an elvish script. The story tells of a tryst between the God of Forest, and the Mountain Goddess.

A golden falcon statuette encrusted from beak to claw with rarest jewels.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A tiny adamantine box filled with curiously strong mints that refills every week.

A whale shaped, crystal bottle filled with ambergris.

A gold pocket watch with an acorn engraved on the cover. On the inside of the cover will be an illusionary image of the most heinous deed the bearer has ever committed.

A golden falcon statuette encrusted from beak to claw with rarest jewels.

A bundle of excellent quality, thickly furred otter pelts tied together with silken cords and wrapped in a protective oilskin case.

A single bone earring that when worn, allows the bearer to speak the language of the undead, but only to say: "I don't actually speak Necril. I only know that sentence, and this one explaining it.” The bearer is not granted the ability to understand the language and doesn’t comprehend what they just said unless they are already fluent.

A light blue orb that is cool to the touch and floats and glows when it's thrown in the air. It hovers five feet off of the ground, shines with the intensity of a candle and always appears to have small snowflakes orbiting it. The floating and light effects cease functioning when grasped or stowed away.

A decorative Random Sword with a hilt consisting of a round pommel, a flat grip and an arched crossguard. The grip is rectangular in cross-section and its hard edges make it difficult to handle and impractical for fighting, which is indicative of the sword's purely ceremonial usage. The pommel and the crossguard are made of silver, while the core of the grip is a brass chest encasing the tang of the blade. All parts of the hilt are covered with golden plates, which are engraved with rounded styli and decorated with niello that contrasts against the golden background.

A pair of silver goblets, decorated with a relief depicting two figures whose arms are entwined, each holding a goblet in their hand and drinking from them. The goblets are identical in appearance, even to the well-trained eye.

An indigo silk purse that belonged to a noble lady. It is intricately crusted with diamonds and sapphires in the pattern of the constellations.

A humanoid skull, which has two large, precious green jewels embedded in its eye sockets and similar gemstones for teeth.

An electrum cylinder the size of a man's thumb, engraved with geometric patterns. Holding it, one can feel a faint magnetic tug towards their head. If released near a person's face, it begins orbiting their head about a foot away until it's caught and stowed away.

A jeweled, ivory hair comb that resembles a great horned owl. Its golden topaz eyes appear to wink under moonlight.

Redhot Hammer: A set of smith's tools that have been enchanted to be able to work metal as if it was red hot without actually needing a forge or changing the temperature of the metal. A bearer proficient with blacksmithing tools does not require a hot forge to work metal but would still need a stump, pile of bricks or an anvil to hammer atop of.

A silk fan that entertains both its bearer and onlookers as it flutters. The fan's animated images show a flowering tree's blossoms first budding, then blooming, then blowing away in a breeze. The bearer is magically refreshed by the slight, fragrant gusts that come from this accessory.

A well-polished silver bowl, the bottom of which has a mirror-like quality. If the blood, hair, or skin of a creature along with a measure of pure rainwater is mixed in the bowl the mirrored bottom with reveal that person's deepest fears and anxieties.

Dragpipes: A set of bagpipes where the bag itself resembles a dragon’s skull. The horns are exaggerated to form the reeds while the player blows through the mouthpiece connected to the back of the neck. The instrument can be played like traditional bagpipes but it can also convincingly mimic the roars of various species of dragon if the bearer is proficient with mundane bagpipes.

A hand-sized black jade casket, lined with gold-shot red silks cradling a jade mushroom.

A carefully-coiled vine of white bleeding-heart, preserved in spirits within a globular glass flask. If used to strike an undead creature, the blossoms will cause damage double that of holy water and then fade into motes of light.

An egg shaped mask cut from an angular, opalescent crystal.

An opaque glass bottle sealed with wax filled with Feywine. Developed centuries ago by an elven wizard and alchemical hobbyist, Feywine is made from grapes grown in the Prime Material Plane combined with ones grown in the Feywild. Sourcing transplanar produce is difficult in the best of circumstances, and combined with the time dilation effect that travelers to the Feywild often experience, the handful of artisans who make Feywine can do so only occasionally. Feywine is dark purple in color, nearly black, but it shimmers when poured as if reflecting bright light. In a glass, it sparkles as if it were full of starlight. Feywine is simply delicious, supernaturally decadent, with a nose of leather and moist earth and dark, fruit-forward flavors.

Box of Smoking: A hollow cube of cedar one foot long on any side with a latched top. When up to two pounds meat and a pinch of salt are placed within and left for one hour, the box's magic smokes it to mouth-watering perfection.

A glittering silver dagger, with a jeweled golden hilt. The object is purely a showpiece and is an unbalanced, unsharpened, unwieldy weapon would be more of a hindrance than help in combat. It would look dazzling if worn on the hip to a formal event which is likely its intended use.

Reusable Writing Tablet: A rectangular slate tablet one foot by half a foot in size that can be drawn on simply by tracing a finger or stylus over the surface. The tablet creates clean white lines in contrast to the grey slate and can be wiped perfectly clean by shaking it vigorously for a few seconds.

A spherical astrolabe, small and brass, inlaid with gold leaf, without a stand. It has six rings, and none of the celestial details thereupon correspond with the earth's night sky. It has a loop upon which it might hang from a cord or chain.

Scarf of Illusory Strands: A bountiful scarf made of long, extremely fine strands of spider silk expertly woven together. Certain strands of the scarf can be tugged to alter the coloration of the scarf, which can change both color and pattern as well as produce a soft bio-luminescent glow of any color desirable.

Captain's Cat: A life sized, black ceramic cat that will animate into a semblance of life if a drop of blood taken from the captain of a ship is smeared on its forehead. The construct will then prowl the ship, until it hunts down and kills one mouse or rat and takes its kill back to where it was animated, whereupon it will return to a statue. The cat can be animated one per day and items like this are typically found on waterborne vessels.

Garment of Lust: A short generic tunic of filmy, expensive material, rumored to have been created by a goddess of desire and love. When worn, the garment transforms into any body garment (dress, lingerie, etc.) desired by the bearer, but it will always be provocatively cut, near diaphanous, or otherwise obviously sexually appealing. Though this item looks unsturdy, it is quite strong, and has the added side benefit of keeping the wearer comfortable in warm or cool weather, but will not protect from natural or magical extremes.

Saddle Blanket of Comfort: A well-made horse blanket with simple but colorful designs. If placed on a suitable mount (Donkey, riding dog, gryphon, goat, etc) the fabric automatically resizes to fit the creature and the material adjusts its own temperature. No matter what the environmental temperature is, the blanket will become either up to five degrees warmer or colder than the standard body temperature of the mount currently it. The mount will naturally make use of the blanket to find a temperature most comfortable for itself without any additional instruction or guidance. For some strange reason, the blanket's magical properties cannot be utilized by humanoids of any sort. Perhaps the creator was more fond of animals than people.

Dawa’s Scrollcase of Safekeeping: An embossed brass scrollcase decorated with scenes of everyday life in Hu Shan, a famous monk of a holy order dedicated to the documentation and preservation of knowledge. The twin endcaps are inset with alternating ivory and malachite wedges. Any item placed in the scrollcase is impervious to fire, moisture, and the effects of aging.

A large, artificial nose made of pure silver, etched with the image of a charging bull on the exterior. The interior of the prosthetic that directly touches the skin, displays celestial runes within an inverted five-pointed star.

Fork of Toasting: A fine silverware dining fork, that would be quite at home on a noble’s feast table. The first time per day that the fork is struck against a piece of glass or fine ceramic less than a cubic foot in size, the object reverberates much louder than it should, gaining in frequency until it shatters. Knowledgeable PC’s will remember stories of objects like these created by disgruntled servants, spiteful nobles and minor trickster gods who for one reason or another wish to upset the toasting of high class society.

Krakenesque Quiver: A sharkskin quiver worked with intricate designs of a monstrous squid destroying ships and eating sailors. Any ammunition kept within it, is sheathed in an illusion causing it to appears as one of the squid’s writhing tentacles. As soon as it’s removed it returns to its normal appearance.

Cerulean Candle: A foot-long blue wax candle, that’s engraved with flowing letters and decorative golden emblems. Creatures sleeping within 30 feet of its light experience unfamiliar but joyous dreams, clearly from the life’s of other creatures. The candle will burns indefinitely, never consuming its wick or wax and can be extinguished and relight as often as desired.

Shadowdancer: A one-foot-tall pink quartz statuette of a masked, dancing succubus. It somehow remains clearly visible in darkness, though it appears to shed no light. If the statue is held and moved about, it causes all shadows within 60 feet to dance about as if they were cast by flickering candlelight.

A brass oval that always displays the current temperature with a moving set of lines.

Eau de Faerie: A crystal nebulizer with a pink bulb that mists a pleasant floral perfume. The scent of the perfume lasts for one hour after application and makes you irresistible to pixies, sprites and other fey creatures. These creatures can smell you from up to 50 feet away and will attempt to touch you, unless you have shown yourself to be a threat to them. Goblins, hobgoblins, bugbears and other natural enemies of the fey can also smell the scent from 100 feet away, but they will become furious and attempt to seek out the source of the scent and destroy anyone wearing it.

A rusty old fishing hook which becomes a grappling hook when submerged in water for more than a few seconds. It reverts to its smaller form after being dry for one hour.

A pair of heavy earrings each bearing a sapphire carved in the shape of a leaping fish hanging inside a golden hoop.

Dwarven Mastbreaker: A particularly mischievous item that resembles a collar for giant animals and is comprised of two large halves, hinged in the middle. It is masterfully sculpted out of bronze and decorated with several dwarven runes. When clasped around the mast of a sailing ship, the runes glow orange and a soft humming sound can barely be heard as the device slowly spins around the outside of the mast. After one minute, the device will have cut through any mast, causing it to fall, possibly on the ship itself. The object was designed for sabotage but it can be used in a more mundane setting to cleanly cut down large trees in a single minute without much effort. The mastbreaker will function twice per day and it can be stopped at any time by unclasping it from the mast or tree it’s attached to.

An ornate chest made of solid gold, banded with silver, filigreed with platinum and encrusted with precious stones. Inside it is a stone tablet engraved with the words "The real treasure were the friends found along the way."

Animal Caller: A small carved wooden oval, with a hole at both ends and a piece of sinew strung across one of the holes. When the name of an animal is whispered into it and the bearer blows into it the Animal Caller will perfectly produce the mating call of that animal. The item is indispensable for use by hunters and rangers however it does have a niche use at confusing keen eared bird watchers.

A pair of wire and glass spectacles that fits most humanoids. While worn, the bearer is able to see musical notes as they emanate from musical instruments, creatures or objects. In additional the spectacles impart the bearer with the ability to read the notes and comprehend which notes are which.

Blanket of Warmth: A soft fur blanket makes whoever is touching it comfortably warm. The material magically eliminates sweat, and bodily odour on the area of the body it covers. No matter what the environmental temperature is, the blanket is always five degrees warmer than the standard body temperature of the species currently using it. ---Note: A human's average body temperature is 37° Celsius or 98.6° Fahrenheit.

A long, sleeveless surcoat covered in the holy symbols of the elven pantheon, embroidered with threads of precious metals. The garment is intended for ceremonial wear by the highest clerics. Stoles of four different colors accompany the garment, corresponding to the four seasons.

Decanter of Decanting: A crystal decanter that holds one gallon of liquid when full. When used to pour a liquid or powder, the bearer can always stop pouring at precisely the amount desired (Unless there is not enough to begin with), down to a single drop or grain. These are often used by alchemists, potion makers and mages when preparing concoctions that require extreme precision. The bearer gains advantage on any checks made to mix or measure exact portions of ingredients.

A Randomly Coloured crystal collar that has no obvious means of opening. When placed near a creature’s throat and the command word is thought, the object liquefies, flowing towards the victim's neck entirely then solidifying. The fit is tight, causing the creature some discomfort, though not enough to cause any harm or penalties. The bearer can never remove the collar, however any other intelligent creature can remove it by simply touching the crystal and thinking of the command word, causing it to liquefy and reform in the other creature's hand.

Flask of Scent: A clear crystal flask filled with a clear liquid that can absorb the strongest scents of its immediate surroundings and distills it into perfume. Once absorbed, the liquid will retain the scent indefinitely within the confines of the closed flask or until the bearer pours liquid onto another object which replaces that object’s smell with the absorbed scent. This effect is temporary and wears off after 3d4 hours. The flask must be filled with pure alcohol in order to be able to absorb a scent and can only absorb a single scent or environmental scent every 24 hour period. When found, the flask contains the following random scent: (Roll 1d6 to determine): 1. Fresh wildflowers 2. The smell of an exquisite perfume 3. The smell of deliciously cooked meat 4. The smell of a sexually active animal (Imperceptible by most races) that can act as a musk lure 5. The smell of hideously spoiled dairy 6. The smell of feces.

An elegantly curving silver clasp wraps its way around an orange-red gem, which has been polished to a near-perfect smoothness by the flow of time.

Matchmaker's Band: A gold Claddagh ring, crafted in the shape of two hands clasping a heart. If the wearer places it on their left hand ring finger they are aware of any creatures within ten feet who would make good romantic matches (Either with the bearer or with each other), as well as roughly how good together they would be.

A crystalline human heart wrapped in gold barbed wire.

A bundle of insulating yeti pelts tied together with seal sinew cords and wrapped in a protective oilskin case.

Malleable Symbol: An undistinguished lump of indeterminable material that radiates divine potential. By concentrating on it for one minute, a creature who worships a deity may transform the lump’s shape and material into a masterwork holy symbol of their God. The symbol reverts to its nondescript lump form after being away from its bearer for 24 hours.

A golden mask resembling a stern face, glowering at the world.

Sanguine Veil: A simple veil, made of blood coloured silk and decorated with small red gemstones. If the bearer bites a creature through the veil they deal damage and drink the blood of the target as normal but the bite leaves no mark of any sort. The victim will experience an orgasmic rush when the bearer bites into their flesh and repeated attacks over a period of time may lead to an addiction to being bit in this manner. Knowledgeable PC's will recall that objects such as these where extremely popular with vampires and certain demons such as succubi for a length of time before the only artificer capable of creating them died of blood loss.

A flask of a silver mithril alloy that uses a crystal prism as a stopper. It is covered with concentric circles engraved with astrological symbols, representing the influence of the stars.

A mithril piton set with a flawless crystal embedded into the spike just below the striking end. Several golden runes are inlaid down the shaft.

A gold comb, with a tail cast in the shape of a swan’s head and neck, its wing revealing the teeth of the comb.

A torc made of mithril and gold twisted together in an intricate pattern capped with balls of leaded glass.

A fist-sized gemstone that glows with an internal light, illuminating the cloud-like formations within. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as fire opal.

Wands of Dueling: A lacquered wooden box on the lid of which there is an image of two wizards holding wands pointing at each other. The inside of the box holds two wands and a note with simple instructions. One wand is black with three red gems on the bottom, the other white with three blue gems. While a pair of individuals hold these wands they engage in a competition by having one wielder request a duel and having the other accept. The wielders then engage in a battle of wills (Making opposing intelligence rolls) and the winner’s wand launches a bolt of arcane power at the losing duelist. This deals no damage but causes pain similar to a potent static shock. Afterwards the one of the gems of the winner’s wand lights up. The duel is a best of five competition and when a player wins, their wand creates a small victorious melody.

A pair of ruby-studded gold bangles, the interior engraved with tiny flowing script too small to read with the naked eye.

A fist-sized spool of fine silvery wire, thinner and stronger than anything you’ve encountered before. You get the feeling that it would be more likely to cut you than to break if you put your weight on it.

A square foot pane of amethyst quartz with a gold symbol representing chaos in the middle of it.

An elegant, polished driftwood sculpture depicting a griffon and small dragon mid-combat. The intricate detail and delicate features demonstrate a mastery of the craft, even to a layperson.

A finely sculpted marble bust of a middle-aged, balding bureaucrat. The moment that you make eye contact with the statue, it acknowledges your presence with a wink.

A brilliantly coloured bright silk tapestry animated to depict a quiet wooded hill overlooking a pond. It is incredibly relaxing to gaze upon.

A well carved, half walnut prosthetic foot complete with carved toes set with gold nails.

The skull of a sphinx set with a gold torc depicting a sphinx being pulled apart by wild elephants.

A burial linen containing a silver and gold funerary mask depicting a raven.

A pair of loaded dice made from platinum that jingle melodically.

A rose water sprinkler made from ornately woven gold and agate. It contains an unidentified substance that does not smell like rose water.

A beautiful silver pocket watch whose face is studded with a glorious profusion of detail: two extra dials, a moving star chart, the phases of the moon.

A weatherproof scrollcase containing a legal deed for the ownership of a tavern called the Knotty Pine in a nearby province.

A matching set of eight ivory figures. When left together and unattended, they will shift positions and poses. They will remain in their new pose until they are observed and then left unattended again. These poses are always scenes from a famous tragedy written long ago. Once complete, the figures simply repeat. If any figure is removed from the set, they all stop working.

An extravagant crystal decanter filled with a rich amber liquor

Coin of False Fates: A common looking silver coin that when flipped and called in the air, always lands on the opposite side called.

A rolled coil of fine, dire spider silk rope, 50 feet in length and woven so closely that it seems like a solid, flexible cable.

Fool's Ace: An unassuming card that to the untrained eye, is a faded ace of any suit. However, on further inspection, the "A" is actually a small rune which creates weak illusions. By tapping the Fool's Ace against another card, the rune changes that card into another ace- and any card touching the changed card is also changed, turning the entire hand into all aces. The illusion is broken by taking the cards affected by the magic and shuffling them. These cards are used for cheating in games, but there has been the occasion where a Fool's Ace has been implemented where the goal is to find the original card before the entire deck becomes identical and has to be re-shuffled.

A masterwork lute made of ceylon ebony wood, with a fingerboard of rosewood. The base is constructed of ancient mahogany, while the face is of the now-extinct cradlewood tree. The edges of the sound hole is a deep green made from powdered jade which has been epoxied into the depression. Within the jade is fine gold inlay in elvish script that reads “Sil vyrdaes sai tyli sil shys bethaendrol amon si vyrdaes sai tyli caethiel” (The power to move the world begins with the power to move hearts). Knowledge PC’s will recognize the instrument as the one played by Ilestria a bard of great renown.

A fire opal that seems to glow with an inner fire, scattering the light across its many intricate facets. Whoever cut this stone did so with an expertise that is nowadays rarely seen.

A clay statue, in the form of a man with a Phrygian cap, an elongated chin and nose and a sardonic expression. His eyes are cut glass which resemble gems and down his chest and stomach are three other cut glass imitation gems. Knowledgeable PC’s recognize the image as one of Phuukh, an ancient god of trickery and jest. Some hieroglyphs are scratched on his back and legs but apart from that, there is nothing of interest on the statue. Inside the clay, however, are three real gems, a piece of diamond, a topaz and a sapphire. They can only be obtained if the statue is broken and when it is, a peal of mocking laughter will ring out and slowly fade away.

A large iron box inside which can be found seven bolts of expensive silk dyed in rare colours. The box has three locks and sealing material set into the edge of the lid to prevent moisture and pests entering and ruining the contents. The box is not currently locked. On the side of the box are the remnants of a customs seal that shows the box was last used six years ago and gives partial identification of the shipper.

An ivory-inlaid snuff box. A knowledgeable PC can determine that the decorative crest of a boar smashing a ship belonged to the infamous privateer Sir Brutus Blackwater. To the right expert, such a piece of history could fetch quite a hefty sum.

A solid gold wine chalice encrusted with a diamond and ruby rim.

An intricate mechanical clock with the inner workings exposed. Every day at noon the gears shift into a new configuration but the clock continues without missing a beat.

An embroidered indigo silk robe with cloth-of-gold panels, blue gem-beaded sleeves and mink trim. The beads are lapis lazuli and there are 50 on each sleeve. It is suitable for a tall human woman and fit for nobility.

Victory of Elora: A large and intricate tapestry showing the life of a great human cleric named Elora. A piece of the tapestry has been ripped out, what it missing is unknown, although Elora is shown with child in the next panes, so it’s possible it to have been censored by an overzealous inquisitor. The tapestry is very valuable, the missing piece would make it nearly priceless.

A strange coin that seems to be an amalgamation of copper, silver, gold, and platinum, shaped into the image of an eight pointed star. The faces of the coin both depict a warped, tentacle creature of aberrant origin.

A heavy silver chalice. It is engraved with a myriad of blasphemous obscenities and polished to a fine finish. It is cool to the touch and the unholy object is a hateful mockery of the communion cup that holds consecrated wine in some religious ceremonies.

A set of noble's clothing spun with gold and silver thread adorned with malachite and red quartz stones.

A silver statuette of a saint that unscrews to reveal a hidden flask filled with holy water.

Last Words: A scrimshawed bone bracelet, enchanted by an unknown restless spirit that often whispers indescribable commands to its bearer. Should the bearer rest a hand upon a dead creature, the bracelet whispers the last words they spoke before their death.

An illustrated map of hell drawn on vellum fashioned from the skin of an angel.

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