#because they both blame the other's younger brother for making THEIR younger brother miserable

[chronomally]

Of course Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan etc. etc. but I am obsessed with the idea of an arranged marriage between Jiang Yanli and Lan Xichen

[weird-addiction]

God is Cruel to you, Not Me.

Pairing: House of the Dragon x Male!Targaryen!Reader x Mandela Catalogue Alt Gabriel

Genre: Crossover Angst

Warnings: self-hate, self-harming, guilt, mentions of childbirth death, masochistic tendencies, forcing religion onto someone, manipulation, happy ending for reader but everyone else suffers.

A/n: Final Repost of this. This is official post of this fic. @kawaiiskeletoneggsnerd

Westeros is known for having the religion of the Faith of the Seven, the Valyrians such as the Targaryens and Velaryons. They had the Valyrian gods of old to watch over them, it was always said the Targaryens were closer to gods than to men, they say that because of their dragons.

What if, it was not the dragons that made them closer to god, what if nothing made them closer to the gods.

Well. Except for one.

Y/n Targaryen.

He was known as the younger brother of Rhaenyra Targaryen, when he was born he took the life of both his mother Queen Aemma and his older twin Baelon Targaryen. When he was old enough to understand it, he began to blame himself for killing his mother as he made his way into the world.

The other thing about Y/n is that he was a dreamer, but not just any dreamer. His dreams were not of the future or about the present, it was about something completely different. The first one started at the age of seven, it was a dream of him standing in front of a tree. In front of the tree was a red apple, it was tempting to take a bite out of it. There was a faint voice pulling him ever so slightly forward, but he woke up before he could do anything.

Then the dreams would continue every night, every time he went into the dream he would walk a step forward, inching towards the apple.

Y/n would go to talk to his father about such dreams, Viserys did not fully understand his dreams as they were not the usual dreams of Targaryens that himself has experienced. During the days in the Red Keep, he would hear voices pulling him to places, sometimes he passed out and awake in his room with him on the floor.

He would pick the dagger his uncle Daemon had gifted him during his seventh name day, then begin to make marks on his arms just to relieve the pain he felt building up.

The scars would burn at first, but then he realized he liked the burns.

This was the way he grew up, soon it felt like normal, during nights sometimes he would wake up and see a tall figure at the foot of his bed. The figure was almost as tall as his room, it wore a white robe and had curly blonde hair. Sometimes, he could have sworn he saw wings.

Rhaenyra offered to take him to the sept to pray as to maybe to take his mind off things, but once Y/n even put one foot inside the sept he felt dizzy, like something was restraining him from going inside. He pushed back the feeling and continued in anyway.

“Even though our family worships the Valyrian gods, in Westeros we still have the Faith of the Seven. We should have both as we now live on these lands.” Rhaenyra said.

Y/n stayed silent before speaking, thinking over what he was going to say. “Are there…any other religions in Westeros?” His voice was soft as he turned to his sister.

“Not that I know of.” Rhaenyra then got into a prayer position, she gestured to Y/n to follow her actions.

She then began to pray under her breath, closing her eyes as she spoke to herself. Y/n also tried, but inside his head was something different, a different prayer was said.

‘Say it.’

“My lord, bless for all as I shall never stray. For my blood should be my own, no other gods shall see me bleed.” The words fell out of his lips so easily, he had no control of what he was even saying. And before he knew it, he was done.

And that is how many years passed, the years passed before his own eyes like a blur of colors. The prayer he continued to say over and over again every single night, the tragedies that befall on others, the drama within his family never got to him. It seemed like everyone else around him was miserable, it was he was the only one that was not punished by the gods.

On Driftmark, they were there to attend the funeral of Lady Laena Velayron. He stood next to his sister and his nephews, he kind of felt bored but he gave his best stance regardless. After the speech Vaemond gave, Y/n went over to his uncle Daemon.

“Uncle.” He said.

“Nephew.” Daemon replied back.

“I’m terribly sorry for your loss, I’m sure she was a good wife.”

A smile ghosted Daemon’s lips. “The gods can be cruel, especially to your father.”

Y/n wanted to laugh at that, he pushed back the feeling of it back down. “Yes, they have. Same with my sister. And even you, uncle.”

Daemon had confusion on his mind. “And you?” He asked his nephew.

“Not that I could think of. Nothing has been bad for me in recent years.” Y/n dipped his head slightly, looking out to the ocean.

“Nothing good ever comes to us Targaryens. Every time a Targaryen is born they say the gods flip a coin. If they flipped to the good side, the bad will still be present regardless.” Daemon downed his wine from his goblet in one go.

“What if the gods are just not cruel to me?” Y/n asked with curiosity, his eyes watched the tides below.

“Why don’t you ask your cunt of a step-mother? I am sure that she knows about the ‘higher authority’. Faith and all that.” Daemon lets out a smile, in which Y/n returns to him.

“I doubt she can help me.”

—---------

He went to bed early that night, having the same dream again but this time he was right in front of the apple.

Y/n picked it up without much of another thought, then he took a bite out of it. There was a tree that was planted in front of him, and behind it, a boney pale hand reached out to him, telling him to take its hand.

His body moved on his own as he took it, then everything faded to black.

Y/n felt someone shaking him awake, it was a guard telling him something had happened. He got dressed quickly and went downstairs. Turns out his half-brother Aemond had his eye taken out.

Once he saw how Aemond was sitting in a chair getting stitches, he wanted to care but he just really could not feel any empathy for him. Once again, such events passed with flying colors as before he realized he was already back home in King’s Landing.

His sister, Rhaenyra has distanced herself and has decided to move to Dragonstone. Y/n stayed as in King’s Landing.

Time passed quickly, and soon six years went by and his sister was back to defend Luke’s claim to Driftmark. He avoided the whole thing that was happening in the throne room, he wandered off to the sept again to pray.

Y/n did not know how much time had passed, but Alicent, his step mother, had come to see him in the sept.

“I did not know you came into the sept, I always thought you and Rhaenyra worshipped the Valyrian gods.” Alicent said, walking in while her arms held each other.

“I do not know anything about the Valyrian gods of old, nor do I know anything of the Faith of the Seven. I have never even once looked at the Seven-pointed-star.” He continued to stay in the prayer position of being on his knees.

“Then why do you come into the sept, there is no reason for you to pray to.”

Y/n stood up, his eyes held a dark glint in them. “There is someone else I pray to.”

“Y/n.” He heard being called, looking over to see his sister at the arched doorway of the sept. “Nyra..” He called his sister’s nickname as she walked over.

“I knew I would find you here, though you have told me you don’t know the faith. We worship the Valyrian gods, you know that. It is our heritage.” Rhaenyra held his shoulders in a comforting manner.

“If Y/n is a prince of the Iron Throne, it is best for him to know the religion of Westeros after all.” Alicent spoke as she watched the sister and brother standing by each other.

Rhaenyra gave Alicent a harsh stare. “My brother is of Targaryen descent, from the times of Old Valyria. He should know the Valyrian gods.”

Silence ensued as the two women stared at each other. It was the prince that stood between that broke the silence.

“Then, I guess I failed as a Targaryen.”

Rhaenyra turned to look at him in confusion. “What do you mean brother?”

Y/n walked over to where the candles casted shadows onto the walls, standing in the said shadows as he clasped his hands together in a prayer position. “But now, I belong to him.” The shadows behind him begin to shift and turn into something else.

The figure the shadows shifted into was tall, the silhouette on the walls, soon three pairs of what seemed to be feathered wings sprouted from its back. The face soon had shadows cleared to show eyes and a mouth. The eyes of the shadow were stretched and the mouth was also very wide, the arch of the smile went from eye to eye.

The queen and the princess both could do nothing as they saw the shadow. The lighting soon returned to normal as Y/n turned to leave.

Over the next couple of weeks Alicent avoided her stepson like the plague, she could not get that image of them in the sept out of her mind. Everytime during meal time she prayed to the seven for their guidance and their blessing to set Y/n free of it. One night at supper, he heard her praying and leaned over to say something to her.

“You think the gods have been cruel to me?” He asked Alicent with a smile, the queen looked at him with confusion.

“Think again.” He drinks the wine from his goblet. “The gods have been cruel to you, not me.”

Y/n did not speak to her for the rest of the night, but Alicent on the other hand was even more scared than she had ever been in her life now. Is what he said true? Were the gods just cruel to her?

Y/n went on with his days as usual, until one day he saw someone new in court. A new man in court that somehow worked his way up in his father’s small council, when Y/n saw him for the first time he felt a sense of familiarity.

The male looked ethereal, like a true god that has fallen from the stars. He was tall, easily at least 6ft, blonde curly hair that shaped his face and fell around his neck and shoulders like a curtain, he had ocean blue eyes that seemed to pull him in.

The man looked too familiar to a certain someone from his dreams, the one whom he took the hand of years ago, the same hand that came from behind the tree, the one where the apple fell from. Y/n felt drawn to him at first glance, he saw the man during a small council meeting, when the council was done Y/n left fast.

Once he got back to his room, his face felt like it was burning. Deciding to get some fresh air he walked to the garden, but on the way he bumped into someone. Surprise, surprise it was the same lord that he was trying to get away from. Now that he thought about it, the lord in front of him looked too perfect, it was unnatural in a way, it was not human.

“My prince, I’m so sorry. I did not see you.” The unnamed lord held his hand out for the prince to take.

Deja Vu hit Y/n like a storm, the same hand, from the same dream, now he was sure something was wrong. He took the hand getting himself up to his feet again. “It is alright, I was just going for a walk.”

“Oh? May I join you?” The older one asked. “Of course.” Y/n could only accept the offer as he walked towards the garden again, this time with someone behind him.

Once they made it to the garden, Y/n wandered mindlessly. Until he decided to sit on one of the turf benches, the unnamed lord followed him and sat next to him.

“I have not introduced myself. I am Lord Gabriel of House Seraphthrone.” Gabriel said with a smile.

“House Seraphthrone? I have not heard of this house before? Where does it reside?” Y/n’s curiosity has now peaked.

“My house resides on the edge between the Riverlands where the Tullys are, and the north where the Starks live. But also somewhat close to where House Arryn resides.” Gabriel’s smile did not leave his face.

“Huh. I would like to see it sometime.”

They continued to talk as he escorted Y/n back to his room, but when they got there, Gabriel was hesitant to leave.

“What is it? Something wrong lord Gabriel?”

“Nothing. Just…this..” Gabriel’s hand went to the underside of Y/n’s chin, making him look at him.

“You really are beautiful..” Was all the lord said before he turned on his heels and left.

Y/n was left stunned with that, retreating back into his room and left to contemplate what in the seven hells he just went through. That was not the last time he would see Gabriel.

Throughout the next weeks and even months, Gabriel would continue to be in his company. At times, the lord would even bring the prince gifts and even new sets of robes and clothes for his wardrobe. Soon, the robes he wore of his own house were not only black and red, but also with the white robes from house Seraphthrone.

When the days went by, Y/n would continue to pray not knowing the god he prayed to was the one that hung around him all day. Slowly but surely, Y/n had begun to fall in love with the lord, and Gabriel knew this well.

Gabriel had deceived everyone within court, hell, even everyone in Westeros. No one said a single thing as his house had risen through many other houses, along with him working his way up in the King’s court. He deceived everyone’s weak minds, including the sweet prince that was so naive to pray to him when he whispered it into his ear for the first time.

But soon, he had to come clean about who he was. And when did, it was a reaction he did not expect. Y/n was practically overjoyed and hugged him tight.

“You’re the god I have been praying to? Then I guess I am one lucky dragon am I not?” Y/n said with a smile on his face.

On the inside, Gabriel now knew he had someone that could do his bidding no matter what, which means he could destroy House Targaryen from the inside. Little by little, Y/n did what was asked of him, slowly tearing the family more apart. It got to the point where he started to realize it, but what could he do now, nothing. He kind of liked it anyway.

When the blacks and the greens were very clearly divided, Y/n was on his sister’s side of course, but he also wished he was not part of this.

“Then you know what to do.” Was the only words Gabriel had said to him before leaving his chambers.

Taking heavy breaths as Y/n grabbed the dagger that sat on his nightstand, unsheathing the blade and gripping it within his hands. The dagger then went through his stomach, it was less pain than he thought it would be. And to mark the final blow, he slit his own throat.

Letting go of the weapon and as it dropped to the floor his eyes rolled to the back of his head, also falling to the floor as his blood pooled around him and under him. Taking one last breath as he closed his eyes. Gabriel then came into the room seeing the prince dead in his own blood, putting his cold hand on Y/n’s forehead as he muttered a spell. The ‘angel’ then disappeared into white mist, as the only thing left in the room was Y/n’s body that was slowly going cold and the weapon of his suicide.

Hours later, Rhaenyra went to check up on her brother only to let out a blood curdling scream. Guards and Daemon soon flocked to her side seeing the prince’s dead body, Daemon took his wife away as the guards took care of the body.

Daemon thought the greens had done it, well others say there was a traitor in the guards, very few said it was suicide. Deep down, Rhaenyra knew it was most likely suicide, no murderer would leave behind their weapon, and the dagger that they found next to him was one of the prince’s own.

The dance of the dragons would start, Rhaenyra would avenge both her son Lucerys and her brother. A son for a son, a brother for a brother.

Y/n’s spirit has been guided to a different realm, to a place that looked like heaven and paradise, but just slightly darker. This. Was Gabriel’s realm.

It allowed him to see what was going on below in Westeros, he watched the war rage on in rather amusement. He became a lover to the god he worshipped.

How sad. That everyone else had a bad ending, he had a good one.

God was indeed cruel, but not to him.

[ystrike1]

The Empress Of Ashes - By 별보라 (8.5/10)

The tragedy doubles, and then it triples. Trauma, fractured memories and cruelty are the norm in this one. It's about a husband that gets a second chance to protect his wife, but he's too obsessed to see that she no longer wants him. He'll force his happy ending through, not matter what. Even if that means going against everyone, including his wife.

Aprosa is a former child slave. It's implied that she was adopted by a priest, who became her father. Her husband is a handsome man named Ailec. He's too good to be true. He's loyal and smart and sauve and obsessed with her.

He'll never let her go. She saved him when he had nothing. Ailec is a prince, but he was originally unwanted as a child. Even the servants ignored him. He had to forage for food like a homeless boy, despite his status. Aprosa, his rose, was and is his beloved guiding light. Ailec's brother took the throne, and to make a long story short he sucks. The country is in chaos. They need a good Emperor, and Ailec the unwanted is a genius. He married a commoner for love. He never thought he'd have to take the throne, but his country needs him.

(Being above the nobles who used to bully him feels great too.)

Ailec makes too many mistakes. He doesn't give Aprosa any power. He marries other women. He even has children with them. The presence of the other wives makes power and respect impossible goals for Aprosa. The nobles just ignore her. Why curry favor with the commoner wife when there are other noble wives to suck up to? Ailec does love Aprosa. He only married to ensure his position and her protection, but she is a normal commoner woman. It's very hard for her to watch his children, from other women, walk around her.

Aprosa naturally becomes depressed. The Emperors love is not enough. She begs for permission to leave the palace. If she's not allowed to divorce...she at least wants to live far away from him. She is disgusted with him. Her love is gone. Their first child died young. Their second is the Crown Prince.

The other wives know Aprosa is weak, with no allies but the Emperor. One of the wives traps Aprosa's only living son in a burning garden greenhouse. She rushes in to save him. The glass garden burns down with both of them inside.

The Emperor calls a meeting. A ballroom of nobles gathers. The Emperor hires mercenaries to kill them all. You see, Ailec was blinded by his vision of his perfect future. He thought Aprosa would always love him, because he will always love her. He just doesn't understand that her love was a normal love. She never wanted to be Empress. Ailec stops acting like a reasonable man, because his family is dead.

His other wives, and other children, were never family to him. He feels nothing for any of them. Aprosa couldn't believe that. His other wives also assumed the Emperor would forget about his foolish commoner wife. The fire was set around the Crown Prince on purpose. So Ailec makes the culprit watch her son die. Then the mercenaries he hired slaughter everyone else. Then, he walks into the resulting flames on his own free will. He wants to die the same way his wife did, so he can be with her.

Then he wakes up with his wife. He's younger. He has time. He hasn't gone back to the palace yet. Aprosa still loves him. He is overjoyed and he has a new perfect plan. The best one. He's not going to marry another woman. In fact, he doesn't need to. He has a huge advantage. He already knows the secrets and plots that will happen in the future. He even knows when assassins will come, and he knows the names of all the fools who wanted his wife dead.

Ailec is selfish. He doesn't understand WHY his wife is miserable. It's easy to blame the nobles and wives who were jealous of her. She was an Empress who did no work. She was only loved by Ailec...so naturally she hated herself. Aprosa was a slave. She doesn't like being owned and controlled. When she became Empress she felt like a slave. She had no one but the Emperor. No friends. She couldn’t see her family. Her only purpose was romance. Of course she felt like a slave! That's very realistic.

Aprosa has some fuzzy memories of her other life too, but she's extremely traumatized. She can't remember everything in detail, because horrible shit happened to her when Ailec wasn't watching.

In her new life she's better off. She's more cautious. Ailec is more protective. She gets a tutor right away, but how can she win? She can't. She can't become perfect enough to escape her past as a commoner. Ailec isn't a field lord. He is the Emperor. Aprosa can protect herself and learn how to throw a grand party, but she will never be loved.

In this life she wants to leave Ailec too!!! She wants to raise their child alone, away from the horrors high society holds. She hesitates though. She says she will try. She loves Ailec. The horrible memories in her head have to be a bad dream.

The two main contenders for Ailec's hand in marriage are both formidable. Buxom, blond Gladys is from a rich family and she's highly confident. Cool, polite little Valerie is the daughter of Ailec's best potential political ally. They try to tear Aprosa apart...quietly. The word slave is enough. A whisper is enough. Aprose just doesn't belong. Ailec is trying to force her into a seat that she doesn't fit in. He's erratic. His displays of affection and loyalty start to get more cruel. Soon, Aprosa cannot recognize him. Soon, nobody can understand why the Emperor is so obsessed with a woman who fears him.

[houseaeducan]

what do the family dynamics of your hawkes look like and how are they different or similar? (inspired by the ask meme sibling question!!)

Omg thank you for this question. Much to unpack with these guys in all directions. Not sure where to start so I'll go hawke by hawke i guess (this post got so long so I'm putting it beneath the cut lol)

Caleb - GOD OKAY. caleb is my canon hawke so i have the most thoughts about him so this is about to be a mile long. caleb has a massive eldest daughter but a boy complex that primarily dates back to an incident as a child where he blames himself for his father almost being caught by the templars, but also only been reinforced over the years of trying to protect bethany and then stepping up as basically the head of the family after Malcolm died. i know Malcolm is supposed to have the same basic personality as hawke but my Malcolm in all worldstates except camillas (will get into that later) primarily has the blue/green personality and is like. a generally pretty upstanding guy who didn't want this life for his children but also knew there wasn't really any choice if he and his children were going to be free. he didnt want to raise his sweet eldest son to feel like he needed to be Protector of the Family but like. what else was he going to do. if Malcolm died or got captured by templars someone had to be ready for that. and as a result caleb has always kind of hero-worshipped his father and is constantly measuring himself against what he feels like Malcolm would have wanted him to do.

and that extends into caleb's messy relationship with carver, because if Malcolm saw caleb as his replacement, then caleb saw carver as his. and in a lot of ways it makes sense he expected the same from carver that he did from himself: they're both boys, both non-mages, both two-handed warriors, I even hc they both take after the hawke side of the family physically while beth takes after the amell side. but caleb expecting so much out of carver also makes carver resent him, and when carver tries to confide in him about how much he hates having their lives defined by magic, caleb takes it as like a personal betrayal against the family and doesn't want to engage with it. (also the girl carver had a crush on had a crush on caleb which was so unfair and unbearable for poor carver). it's not like he's mean to carver or anything, but he's definitely not understanding in the way he could be and this isn't something that hits until carver dies. which sucks and is something he's going to feel guilty about forever :/

he has the pretty typical hawke relationship with leandra i think. he wants his mom to like him and he knows she loves him but. its hard sometimes. leandra is hard to deal with and when she's disappointed in him it's another reflection of the way he feels like he's failing his father. and then BETHANY he loves bethany and by the end of things she's the only family he has left. after a lifetime of doing everything to protect her seeing her become a grey warden is honestly agonizing bc she's so miserable and there's nothing he can do about it but it gives bethany the space to work through her negative feelings about all she's been through and i ultimately think she comes out better for it

catherine - my og hawke :) i think her dynamic with Malcolm and leandra wasn't unlike calebs but just wayyyyy less intense bc catherine is simply less inclined to take things So Fucking Personally. from an early age she learned sometimes you have to stab some guys to protect your family and its fine. that's just how it is. i don't think she and carver were super close but they had a pretty classic older/younger sibling relationship. they loved each other and bickered and cat never took carver's shit too seriously bc he was her dumb kid brother. catherine was also really protective of beth tho and when she went to the circle and then liked it there she took it PERSONALLY. bethany is actually probably her most fucked up and strained relationship in her family and out of all her companions. she loves her sister she would do anything for her but she also feels unbelievably betrayed that bethany is happy in a place she worked so hard to protect her from. they work it out eventually but i genuinely don't think they're on speaking terms for like another 5-10 years post da2

cassian - cassian hawke love of my life is a huge sweetheart but is frankly pretty self absorbed at the beginning of his story and really just did Not internalize any of the family pressure my other hawkes did. he's a talented mage who took malcolm's instruction seriously and is very nice to his mom and so managed to get through his whole childhood with a very nice relationship with his parents. i think he and bethany had a pretty solid relationship but were never close despite being honestly very similar people in many ways. the carver relationship was TENSE bc carver was wildly jealous of cassian (cassian is nice in a way that makes everyone like him, he's better looking so the girls all had crushes on him, he was always in good shape despite not needing to be as a mage, he got more attention from their father because he was mage, he was even just naturally good at magic and Malcolm was always commenting on it) and cassian just never really got why carver acted the way he did with him. their relationship does actually improve as its put through the test in kirkwall too (and as cassian gains more perspective on the world and has his arc) and they end the game friends

calliope - rebellious streak a mile wide. she never did blood magic while Malcolm was alive but she was always asking questions pushing the boundaries of what she was allowed to do and it worried the shit out of him. she was good though, and their relationship was overall positive, but he was always warning her about the consequences of going too far. i don't think leandra was as attuned to that honestly, and it wasn't something Malcolm ever brought up to her because he didn't want to worry her. calliope was always pushing back against leandra and challenging her when she felt like she was wrong but at their core they both had a lot of love for each other. and cal LOVED bethany. would have and probably did kill for bethany. and bethany loved calliope a lot albeit in a "that's my crazy older sister” kind of way and was terrified when she realized she had started doing blood magic. that caused some fighting between them but honestly cal just never took bethany's objections particularly seriously. the carver relationship is more complicated bc they never got along and calliope was such a bitchy older sister to him. and carver knew EXACTLY what cal was even if he wouldn't say it. frankly cannot rlly blame him for joining the templars. there is still a lot of love there though, and as much as they might fight with each other they wouldn't hesitate to defend the other if they were in danger

camilla - PLAY DADDY LESSONS BY BEYONCE. so malcolm in this worldstate had the red personality just like his daughter and also had the same expectations for camilla that caleb internalized just. more intensely. my read of Malcolm (in all world states) is that despite being an apostate he still has a very conventional circle educated philosophy of magic and (in this worldstate) i think impressed hard on bethany, as well as carver and cam, the importance of highly disciplined magic, the importance of being an exceptional mage who didn't make mistakes lest the results be dire). this translated into cam being pretty brutal when it came to protecting her family but also having a very critical outlook on mages despite coming from a family of apostates. she loved and admired her father for being a strong, disciplined man, and also hated him sometimes too for condemning them to a life on the run. she wanted her mother to love her soooo bad and I'm sure she did but leandra just never responded to her intense, easily angered daughter as well as she did to sweet little bethany. cam got along with both her siblings like. fine. growing up. they fought sometimes, they played sometimes, she wasn't particularly close with either as teens. carver's death is hard on her, but not like leandra's is years later. she finally gets the validation she always wanted from her mother at the moment of her death and its AWFUL. it sends her down a spiral -- leandra was killed by blood mages, who camilla has always hated, and of course she finds orsino's note in quentin's lair. the circle is complicit in blood magic, probably all the mages around her are as well. they all as good as killed her mother. she and bethany almost patch things up in the legacy quest, but when orsino uses blood magic in the final battle, camilla is certain that bethany is a blood mage too and has betrayed their mother, betrayed their father, betrayed her too and lets Meredith kill her. yoinks

[starboygrove]

Surviving Eddie Munson - Chapter 1

It’s a gorgeous June afternoon in Hawkins today. The sun is shining, there are large, poofy white clouds rolling across the bright blue sky. It’s the perfect temperature outside, warm with a slight summer breeze. Normally this would put Steve Harrington in a very good mood, but that is not the case. Unfortunately for him, he has to spend his time indoors, watching the beautiful day go by from his perch at the customer service desk in Family Video.

He doesn’t even get the welcome distraction Robin’s presence usually provides for a few more hours, as she has a shorter shift today than he does. Sighing, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other and props his head up on the counter, making a miserable and failed attempt to stave off the boredom by counting the cars going by.

Steve allows his thoughts to drift off, finding himself recounting the last few months’ events that followed the destruction of Vecna. He thinks about Jonathan first, of all people, and Nancy’s drunken play-by-play of their anticlimactic break up that led to him moving back to California. Maybe he’ll give Jon a call and see how he’s been doing, or maybe he will just wait until Will updates them again on his brother’s Cheech & Chong style adventures with Argyle.

It was a lot longer until he found out about Mike and El’s breakup, but he couldn’t blame anyone but himself for that. He hasn’t been spending as much time with the younger teens as he used to, finding himself more often than not taking long walks in the woods either alone or with Nancy, or Robin, or sometimes both. Sometimes, Eddie finds him, refusing to leave his side and talking his ear off about some nonsense or another.

Eddie Munson. His chest tightens at the thought of the other man, a nervous pit falling in his gut. Steve sighs harder this time, rubbing at his eyes perhaps a little too aggressively. He just doesn’t understand it, why he always feels so…weird when he thinks about Eddie. When he looks at him, or talks to him. The small jolt of panic that shoots up his spine whenever someone mentions him out of the blue.

At first, Steve was able to just chalk it up to his natural protective instincts. He nearly witnessed Eddie’s death, and then once he was released from the hospital, there were a few scrapes here and there with some of the less forgiving citizens of Hawkins. The ones who refused to believe the cover-up story, burning crosses into the already dead grass outside the Munson trailer or egging the Record Store Eddie works at. That almost got him fired, too, which boiled Steve’s blood something ferocious. If it wasn’t for Eddie, this town would be up in flames, but of course no one will ever know that.

It’s been over a month since anything like that has happened, though. Actually more like closer to two months, he realizes, glancing at the small tabletop calendar near the store phone. So what is Steve’s excuse, now that all reasonable forms of danger are no longer existent? What is his excuse for his mind constantly drifting back to Eddie any chance it gets, recalling their most recent conversations, analyzing all the little facial expressions he would make, dwelling on the sounds his rings make when they clink together.

Logically, in the back of his mind, there is a nagging part of him that has a very good theory for all of this. He doesn’t like that theory, though, because it just doesn’t align with his reality. So Steve stomps it down, bottles it up, and throws it in the closet where it will fester incessantly. If the bottle threatens to burst, as it does more frequently these days, he just finds a way to distract himself.

Like going on a nice, long walk in the woods. And if he carries his bat with him on these long walks, no one ever says a god damn thing. Because let’s face it, Nancy still sleeps with a gun under her bed, Robin with all of the lights on, and Eddie? Eddie doesn’t sleep much at all.

Neither does Steve. That’s usually when they find each other, varying degrees of sobriety, trampling through the woods in the dark as if they’re looking for something. Maybe they’re looking for their sanity, lost in the ether of The Upside Down. Maybe they’re trying to find it in one another.

They’ve had some really personal discussions on these late night walks, things he never even told Nancy when they were in the height of their relationship. About how he can’t even get within five feet of the pool in his backyard without thinking about Barb, or how Eddie made peace with the fact he was going to die and now he doesn’t know what he has to live for anymore.

The chime of the bell dangling on the front door snaps Steve out of his reverie and he stands up straight, only to slump back down when he realizes its just Robin. How long has he been lost in thought exactly? Had he really been thinking about Eddie for that long, again?

“Well hello, Sunshine!” Robin greets him sarcastically, throwing her bag on the counter and hopping up to sit.

Steve just grumbles a response, flexing his legs and storing her bag for her.

“Workin’ hard, or hardly workin’?” She snorts out, getting a good look at him. The boredom has yet to melt off his features, the lack of mental stimulus for hours on end etched into his eyes.

“If it were up to me, we wouldn’t even be open until 3pm in the summer. No one wants to rent a movie in weather like this!” He complains, but he’s smiling, always happy to see his best friend.

“Hey! There are starving kids in Africa who would kill to get paid to stand around in air conditioning and look pretty.” She jokes, and Steve just rolls his eyes in response.

He walks over to one of the shelves and picks up the nearest VHS case, dusting it off, nervously digging the toe of his sneaker into the carpet. He’s nearly tempted to talk to Robin about his recent thoughts, but something stops him from choking it out. Shame and guilt, mostly. Ashamed and guilty about what, exactly? He can’t even pin point that either, or more specifically he doesn’t want to.

Instead he asks her about what she has been up to the last couple of days, as they haven’t seen each other since Tuesday morning when Steve dropped her off at her house after a sleepover. With his parents gone for weeks at a time, he finds himself alone so often that he doesn’t even ask Robin to come over anymore. She just does it, almost every night his parents are gone so long as she doesn’t already have plans to stay over at Nancy’s – an activity that has grown in rapid frequency since they graduated.

She gushes about the latest mundane feature about Nancy she’s decided to hyper fixate on – this time it’s about Nancy’s supposedly inhuman ability to coordinate colors – and it makes Steve break out into a wide, genuine smile. One of the few things that makes him happy these days is seeing the people he loves so full of joy. When Robin revealed her crush on his ex-girlfriend, she was nervous about how he would react, but he couldn’t be happier for her. Especially because he’s been noticing lately the way Nancy looks back at Robin when she’s not looking.

“You should see her closet! Well, you probably already have, huh? It’s incredible the way her mind works, I could never.” Robin sighs dreamily, kicking her feet out into the air, lost in full-blown crush mode.

“I think you’ve invented a textile fetish, Buckley,” he jokes, earning a scoff from his freckled friend.

“It’s not a fetish! I’m simply admiring her organizational skills. It’s not just her wardrobe, you know.” She huffs out, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Only you could make a well-organized closet sound like a romance novel, you are so gone on her!” He laughs when her face begins to flush, never failing to get a kick out of teasing her.

She mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously a lot like ‘not the only one gone on someone’ but he pretends he didn’t hear her. A few weeks ago she attempted to broach the topic of Eddie in a way Steve wasn’t interested in hearing. They’ve trauma bonded, that’s all, and Robin gave up quickly when she realized Steve simply wasn’t ready for that conversation yet. It’s not a conversation they should even be having, Steve thinks bitterly, and sets the VHS case back on the shelf a little roughly.

“You know, Steve--” she’s cut off by the chime of the bell, and he’s know he’s just been saved from rehashing the subject based on her tone alone. He smiles a triumphant, knowing smile at her and goes to greet the first customer of the day.

The moment they are alone once more, which is far too quickly in his opinion, Robin starts up again.

“I was thinking,” she begins, toying with the cord on the store phone.

“That’s dangerous,” he jokes, in an attempt to deflect. She glares at him and he holds his hands up in surrender, gesturing for her to go on.

“My parents are gonna be out of town early next month, what do you say we have a babysitter’s club night?”

Oh.

He didn’t anticipate this. He searches his mind quickly, for any feeble excuse possible, but he knows it’s a futile attempt. There is no logical reason for him to turn this offer down. Especially when Robin has been bragging about the new hot tub her parents just got, and her fully knowing how much Steve has wanted to come over and check it out.

“Eddie already said he’ll come,” she adds on, a mischievous glint in her eyes. There it is, the scheming he knew she couldn’t resist. Once she gets an idea in her head, she does everything in her power to see it to fruition.

“I don’t see what that would have anything to do with getting me to say yes. I was already thinking of saying yes. You saying that isn’t what is making me say yes. It’s mostly the hot tub, if I’m going to be completely honest with you.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to make note of the fact his palms are oddly sweaty.

“Ahh, the hot tub, yes. Where we will all be in our bathing suits. Interesting…” She trails off, chuckling when she turns and gets a glimpse of his expression.

“Robin.” He warns her with his tone and she shrugs, playing dumb.

“Steve,” she replies airily, needlessly wiping down the customer service desk for the third time since she clocked in.

“Will there at least be alcohol?” He shoots for nonchalance, and thinks he scores.

“Of course, whom dost thou taketh me for? No glass, though, it’s a bitch to clean out of the tub. Not uh, speaking from personal experience or anything.”

“Nance said yeah?”

Robin snorts, as if he said something utterly stupid just now.

“It was her idea, dingus!” She replies gleefully, and he should be surprised but he really isn’t. From what he has gathered, they have never spent a night over at Robin’s house, always at Nancy’s. Of course she would jump on the opportunity to spend the night at Robin’s the first chance she could get. He’s going to have to have a talk with her, sooner rather than later it seems.

“Yeah, alright. ‘Course I’ll come, why wouldn’t I?” he asks rhetorically, pacing around the desk and smearing his hand across the top, just to piss her off.

It works, earning him a wet towel to the face, but it just makes him laugh. They get a little more banter in before the bell chimes again, alerting them to the presence of a new customer.

Except it isn’t a customer, Steve inwardly groans. It’s Eddie motherfucking Munson, here to bug him once again after his shift at the Record Store just down the street.

“Harrington!” he greets enthusiastically, opening his arms out wide. Even in the summer months, he’s dressed in black head to toe, contrastingly greatly with Steve’s usual light denim and pastel polo. The tight sleeves of his shirt wrap around Eddie’s arms in a way that makes Steve get a little light headed for some reason. Absolutely bizarre.

“Munson,” he grunts out, giving a stilted wave. The bulk of their interactions are usually away from prying eyes, so the intensity of Robin’s voyeuristic stare is making him flush. Yeah, that’s what it is.

“Gonna rent something for once, or are you just here to grace us with your heavenly presence?” Eddie laughs like he just told the world’s best joke, clapping Steve on the shoulder once he gets near enough to do so.

“You know me, just can’t stay away from my favorite video rental store.”

“This is the only video rental store in Hawkins, Munson.”

“Exactly!”

Steve rolls his eyes, muttering something about it not counting under his breath. The other man is close, far too close, as he typically is. It’s like he has no concept of personal space. Steve can feel the heat radiating off of his body he’s standing that close to him. As always, Eddie is completely unperturbed by their proximity while he chats to Robin, seemingly unaffected in the way Steve is when the bare skin of their arms brush together.

He must be dehydrated, or something, because he’s starting to feel really weird again. Excusing himself to the break room to get a drink, Steve stares at his warped reflection of the old beat up toaster on the counter. He looks like an alien, a warped version of himself he doesn’t recognize, mirroring the feelings he has inside. Steve hasn’t recognized himself in months, if he’s being honest.

When he starts to feel guilty for how long he’s been gone, he forces himself to return to work, feeling equal amount of elation and disappointment when he realizes Eddie has left already.

“Feeling okay?” Robin asks in that soft voice of hers she reserves only for when she knows something is wrong with him.

Steve just sighs, then shrugs, pointedly avoiding her gaze. He wouldn’t even know where to begin; knowing why he feels like this is more than half the battle. If he knew what was wrong, he’d be able to fix it on his own. A small voice in the back of his head tells him he does know what’s wrong, but he ignores it completely.

“Just tired, I guess. Been spending too much time here.” Robin chews on her lip before nodding, accepting his half-lie. It isn’t a complete fabrication, he has picked up more shifts over the last month. They lost two of their part timers, newly graduated seniors who no longer wanted to be tied down by a minimum wage job. Keith has yet to replace either of them, satisfied with having Steve and few of the others pulling extra shifts instead.

He is grateful that Robin drops the subject, and they spend the rest of their afternoon talking about music, movies, and other safe surface level topics. They have a few more customers come in just before close, and soon they are free to do as they please with the rest of their evening.

The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in a beautiful shade of rusty orange when Steve drives Robin home, as he always does. He agrees to give her a ride tomorrow to the Wheeler’s, to surprise Nancy before she gets off work at The Hawkins Post. It will be Friday, and for once both he and Robin have the day off, an incredibly rare occurrence as of late. They make plans to catch a matinee of Ferris Bueller's Day Off; it’s his turn to pick this time much to the chagrin of Robin, and Steve drives home feeling more content than he has in a while.

[hyzenthlayroseart]

Some antagonists to Eileen and her family, a homophobic conservative family consisting of Lynn Gorman, her husband Greg Gorman and their two sons Carl (the overweight one) and Buck (the skinny one) and a daughter named Crystal.

Lynn and Greg were a couple in high school and got married right after and had kids and became miserable and bitter ever since. Greg works as a construction worker and when he's not working he's at home sitting on the couch all day watching either sports or conservative "news" stations like Fox News while drinking beer. He's generally lazy and apathetic but can get heated when talking about political topics. When he was younger he had an immature "class clown" type of attitude and end up becoming more and more miserable and cynical as he settled into domestic life. He and Lynn resent each other now and should divorce but for whatever reason they haven't.  

Lynn was a gossipy mean girl in high school and ended up never really growing out of it. She has a friend group of other stuck-up, gossiping moms who were also former high school mean girls. Lynn is very vain and has had plastic surgery to try and stay youthful (I tried making it look like she had Botox, don't know if I succeeded). Whenever she's out in town and runs into Eileen and her family, she rants to them about how they're disgusting sinners and are going to Hell (Eileen doesn't deal well with conflict due to being shy and on the Autism spectrum so Cleo's the one who defends them both and rants back at Lynn), and she despises how Eileen and Cleo are raising children in such a "sinful environment" (ironically Eileen and Cleo have a happy, loving marriage and are wonderful and loving mothers, basically the opposite of Lynn) and despises how Eileen and Cleo are eternally youthful and wealthy. 

Carl is a 22 year old lazy shut-in who stays in his room all day on his computer either gaming or using 4chan or some other edgy shit. He's basically the type of guy who posts racist/sexist/homophobic crap then when he gets called out for it he just tells everyone they're being sensitive and starts ranting about cancel culture and wokeness or whatever. Outside of the internet he considers his life miserable since he grew up with parents who hated each other and still hate each other so he decides to take it out on random people on the internet so he can feel superior. He's also an incel and a misogynist. 

Crystal is a Instagram influencer who is vain and self-centered like her mom (she also has had plastic surgery by getting lip fillers), and went on to become a mean girl in school as well. She's just as bigoted as the rest of her family and has internalized misogyny and is always bullying and putting down other girls at her school (basically she's Regina George but worse). She has a clique of other wannabe influencer mean girls and they all pretend they're friends but in reality they're too bitter and unpleasant to properly form friendships, they just stick together to be in the "popular crowd".

Finally, Buck is the oldest and is obsessed with guns and spends his free time doing target practice with them. Just like his brother he's also a racist/sexist/homophobic troll on the internet and also loves picking fights with people physically (unlike his brother who is too lazy to physically fight anyone due to sitting at his computer all day eating Cheetos). Buck has always been a loner and has a genuinely unhinged personality and serial killer vibes (he hasn't killed anyone but has been arrested for being in fights). When he was in high school (he's in his 20s now) everyone stayed away from him because he scared everyone and had an unpredictable temper. Whenever he got in trouble his mom instead put the blame on whoever his victim was for "getting her poor innocent boy in trouble". Yeah Lynn basically enables him and refuses to believe he's capable of violence. 

So yeah, not great people. Obviously Eileen and her family avoid them whenever possible.

[bokettochild]

A Hero Protects His Own - Part 1

Ao3

AU is by @ryssbelle I just write for it!!!! Go check them and their awesome AU out!!!!

..........................................................................................................................

Loud.

It’s loud and the camp is overwhelmingly tense as Legend screams harsh words in a language Twilight doesn’t understand. The others sit in silence, either burying their heads in their hands or trying their hardest to ignore it while Sky stares cold and impassive at the vet.

He shrinks back into his hood.

He’s fought the worst of the worst; monsters, evils, shadows and nightmares from realms beyond what the others will ever know, but somehow hearing his brothers screaming at each other like this is what it takes to make him shiver and shrink back.

Or maybe it’s the steel in Sky’s eyes.

He’s tried to separate them, tried to stop Legend antagonizing the Chosen Hero, and for a while he even thought it worked! Sky and Legend had bonded some after what the three of them refer to as “the bunny incident” Legend with a fierce blush and Sky and himself with grins and teasing. The vet would tease them, stand at their side and back them up, and they would do the same for him. That’s just the power of secrets, sharing them makes you closer to other people.

But then they’d been dropped in Legend’s world. They’d come to the veteran’s Hyrule and spent a day at his house and gone out to the forest with Ravio to investigate something strange that the merchant had seen. When they'd come to the cozy cottage, Sky had been teasing Legend and receiving playful jabs in return, but the next morning when everyone woke up there was stone cold silence between the two, Ravio overcome with nervous energy that, to their collective shock, had earned him some rather sharp words from the Skyloftian when the merchant had gotten them lost in the woods.

From there it got worse.

Legend and Sky are almost always at each other's throats now, icy blue and raging indigo burning into each other as Time has struggled to keep them separate, neither willing to explain their spat and Ravio to overcome to even attempt it.

The bunny merchant clings to Warriors even now, their scarves wrapped over the both of them and tying them together as Warriors paints the merchant’s nails, speaking softly and recounting adventures the two had apparently shared in an attempt to distract him from the shouting that fills the camp and the heated stares being shot between two heroes.

Sky’s hand grips the hilt of the Master Sword where it lies in his lap and Legend’s fist at his sides while he stands over the older hero, face twisted up in an ugly expression as he spews words Twilight knows he doesn’t want to understand.

“Make it stop.” Four whimpers, head buried in his side as the smithy’s shoulders tense further with each word. “It hurts.”

“Guys-” He tries, he really does, to be firm, but when there's so much anger already in the air, he knows that yelling will only do so much good, and when Sky’s sharp eyes meet his, usually so gentle and dreamy but now flashing with lightning and shadowed in thunderclouds, it’s all he can do to keep his voice low enough to not worsen things for Four.

“You’re hurting Four.” Time scolds.

Legend’s mouth snaps shut, Sky’s hands twitching as the two both look over the miserable bundle against his side.

“Fine.” Legend snaps, crossing his arms and looking away.

“Apologies.” Sky nods.

It’s easy to believe Sky will be a king one day when he acts like that. There’s no doubt that their usually sleepy friend can rule and command when he sits poker straight, actions clipped as his words and tone deep enough to rival times when he speaks. Gone are the gentle words and reassuring smiles, instead replaced with regal nods and flashing silver eyes. The war cape that usually warms shivering heroes on cold nights is a cape, and the halo cast over the Skyloftian’s honey-hair is a crown in the firelight.

Twilight has to shift in his place.

Thank Ordonia the two both have a soft spot for the smithy, otherwise they’d be here all night! And, while he loves the wolf that nestles inside of his heart, he also hates how the wolf’s senses affect his own. Legend’s shrieks might be annoying to the others, but to himself and Four, they’re agonizing.

Then again, he has to muffle a strained chuckle as Legend stomps past on his way to his bedroll, which is as far as possible from Sky’s without Time raising his brows, rabbits do scream rather loudly, don’t they.

“Are they done?” Four’s eyes actually have tears in them when he looks up, face flushed and miserable as he peeks up out from under the tail end of the wolf pelt.

“Yeah.” He has to keep his voice low as he answers, Four’s headaches are well known to be absolutely awful, and he can’t help but gently pet the smithy’s hair in an attempt to comfort him.

Baby.

Twilight has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Four’s nearly an adult.

Baby. The wolf in his soul rumbles, and Twilight has to mentally restrain himself from pulling the little smithy into his arms and absolutely suffocating him with his fluffy pelt and arms as he holds him as tight as possible. He thinks Four once explained why they want to squeeze babies and small things so much, but he can’t be bothered to dig through all of the smithy’s rants about Hylian behavior in order to remember it.

It was something related to eating though, and the thought makes him wrinkle his nose.

“Good.” Four sighs, flopping fully against him and tugging the pelt over his eyes. “They do that again and I’m gonna slap them both. Jerks.”

A laugh rumbles through his chest as the wolf growls in approval.

Fierce baby. The Wolf laughs.

He’s close to our age. Twilight reminds himself. He jist looks small and young.

Never mind that the smithy has his childish moments, eyes glimmering red and warm as he laughs along with Wind as the two watch some prank or another play out. It’s always hard to tell if Four is just laughing at their misfortune or if he’s the reason for it and is reveling in his genius, because when questioned the smithy always looks so childishly innocent or entirely unimpressed. It’s a difficult thing to pin the blame on the smithy, and they’ve all quite given up. Except Sky.

Sky, who can read Four like a book and is currently shooting worried glances in the smithy’s direction, all fire and rage gone from crystal eyes when the Skyloftian catches sight of the smithy curled up beside him, only his legs and stockinged feet visible beneath the pelt. “Is he okay?”

Twilight nods. “Exhausted, fightin’ a bad headache, but he says it ain’t quite a migraine.”

The other hero nods with a wince. “You got him then?”

Oh definitely. This is his little brother! Of course, he can take care of him! “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

He’s feeling guilty.

They are close, he prob’bly just wants to help.

“You good, Sky?”

Crystal blue meets his slowly, a pained smile on his brother’s face as Sky settles down on his other side, reaching over quickly to gently pat Four’s knee before answering. “Yeah. Legend just-” Sky answers, running a hand through his hair with a huff of his puffed-out cheeks. “Vet’s a Hylia Blessed piece of work somedays!”

Laughter spills from him this time, and he can’t stop it even when Four pokes his side irritably. “That has got to be the nicest way I’ve e’er heard someone call another person an ass! Did you just say ‘Hylia blessed’?”

Sky rolls his eyes. “I love Legend same as any of you guys, he’s just...” Another heavy puff of breath, one that he didn’t know Sky could even manage with his asthma, billows out, ruffling the Skyloftian’s bangs as he motions to where Legend is sat with his back against Warriors, Twilight would almost dare to say that the vet is pouting as War reaches over to gently ruffle the vet’s hair fondly while Ravio chirps something nervous and encouraging at him.

“He can a bit difficult.” He finishes, but Sky shakes his head fiercely.

“That’s not it! I deal with difficult people all the time! My best friend was the biggest ass I knew before he stopped trying to one up me and started to actually help. I can handle a bit of sass and snark, I mean, look at us!” Sky exclaims, motioning to the camp and everyone in it.

“Keep it down!” Four hisses. “Headache!”

“Sorry.” He choruses with Sky as the smithy glares up at the both of them before retreating back underneath the protective shade of his wolf pelt.

“It’s not the grouchiness, or the snark.” Sky explains softly, blue eyes pained as they glance at Legend. “We’re just. We have very different opinions about some things.” He’s about to say something when Sky cuts him off, eyes glistening softly in the fire as he stares across at the pouting vet. “I get that he doesn’t care for the goddesses. I’m not happy with it, but I can respect his opinions; they’re valid as much as mine are, and he has his reasons to feel the way he does. But some things-” The Skyloftian shakes his head fiercely, eyes going stony again. “Some things aren’t open for discussion like faith and beliefs. Hard, cold facts can’t be denied, no matter how much Legend would like to.”

There’s a bite in Sky’s voice again, and it makes him flinch back. Beneath his pelt, Four’s fingers clench his tunic, the smithy stiff as a board again. He sneaks an arm around the younger hero, squeezing gently in reassurance as he follows Sky’s gaze to the trio opposite them, where Legend is glaring at a laughing Warriors while Ravio giggles softly along, the three melting back into their seamlessly antagonistically friendly behavior around each other.

“Legend’s smart. But he’s also blind.” Sky bites out bitterly. “And it’s just gonna get him hurt.”

He’s about to ask what Sky means, but at that very moment Wild jumps up from sitting beside Time, ears pricked and eyes wide as a hoarse-shout rings from his cub’s throat. “Monster attack!”

Monsters.

The growl rumbles in his chest as he pulls himself to his feet, Four following with a groan and Sky already sprinting across the camp with the Master Sword drawn and in hand.

The monsters are on them before most of them even have a chance to draw their blades.

Mindless beasts swirl about, blocking his vision of the others as he dances through them, fending off any headed towards the suffering smithy while simultaneously trying to carve a path for himself and Four to where the others are.

“Eyes out for the black one!” Warriors voice rises over the din of blades crashing and monsters squealing, all of the playfulness of the moment before replaced with the practiced calm and clipped tones of a soldier.

“Aye Captain!” Wind shouts back, followed by Wild and Time, the only one’s accustomed to a soldier’s commands, as they thrust themselves into the battle.

The monsters swarm thicker and thicker, but in every spare second, he keeps his eyes open, searching the crowd for the black lizalfoes that’s been the source of so much of their trouble lately. Nothing can be seen save monster after monster of the normal sort, their blood streaking red across the dirt, thin and weak as bodies fall with more ease than any of their previous battles.

“These ‘blins are red blooded!” He calls out. “Keep your guards up! They strong one’s are prob’bly holdin’ back!”

The Ordon Sword sings through the air, but despite his own warning, the monsters are already starting the thin. More stream in from the forest, but they runabout wild like any old ‘blins and lizards, none of the intelligence or strength of their corrupted cousins making an appearance so often recently. The same can be said of the black lizalfoes; no one can spot it, there’s no flash of black in the crowd save for his own pelt as he spins and stabs, dancing easily along to Warriors’ side.

“Any sign?” The captain pants out, parrying an enemy blade and thrusting forwards to skewer the moblin before him.

“None.” He heaves back, raising his shield against his own opponent and pushing back against the spear that embedded it inside. “Have you seen Four? I lost him in the mob?”

The words are hardly out of his mouth before a scream, all too harsh and broken sounded across the field. “Sky!”

Midnight meets royal blue as soldier and rancher lock eyes for all of a moment before swinging out with all their might at their enemies, razing them low and clearing their vision long enough to stare over the field.

Four is clutching at his sword arm, eyes wide and staring as they looked to where Sky has been cast onto the ground a few paces away, thrown by the force of a blow that no doubt had been headed for the smithy himself. No ordinary monster could land a blow on Sky unless he was rushing to someone else’s rescue, and the guilt already filtering into the smithy’s eyes was all that is needed to confirm the thought.

The Master Sword lies on the forest floor, to far from Sky for the knight to grasp it as he pulls himself to his knees, enemies already baring down on him from all directions.

“Sky!” Twin voices shout.

Flying-Heart!!!! The Wolf screams inside of him, pushing his feet forwards to charge to Sky’s side.

Red flashes before him, swirling fabric, the color of aged blood and wine, a hood like a poe’s drawn up over a being’s head, a single blackened hand reaching out from beneath, red swirling over clawed fingers as Sky’s breath comes heaving from his lungs, side bleeding from the blow that had downed him.

A voice, neither high nor low but pitched in such a way that none could hear quite what was being said, murmurs something as the power on the blackened hand pulses.

Monsters rage around the hero and poe-like being, but none step closer to Sky, although their eyes trail to him eagerly every so often when Heroes, desperate to save their brother, aren’t hacking through their numbers.

A moblin rises before Twilight, blocking his vision for precious seconds before a roar built in his chest and his sword cleft the being in two. The second was enough though. Sky’s scream sounds over the field, harsh and grating and agonizing! The wolf throbs inside of him, tearing at the walls of his mind as he attempted to press through the creatures keeping him from his brother.

“Get back you-” Legend’s words are cut off sharply by Time’s scream of rage as the biggoron sword swings and fells three monsters at once. The Master Sword gleams in Legend’s hands as he launches himself at the being, teeth set and eyes flashing as he swings down, making the red-cape dart back as the pink-haired hero came to a halt between hero and monster, Sky’s weakening breath ringing over the field.

The vet’s eyes flash to meet his for only a moment. “Kick ass! We need to end this!”

A firm nod, the wolf is already raging inside him and he gave it full control as his blade and shield fend off and fell enemy after enemy, their screams and blood running over him like the air itself, so little he cares for them. His only job now is to beat back the monsters, give Legend space to work, keep Sky safe.

Beat the monsters.

Give Legend space to wreak havoc.

Protect Sky.

Beat the monsters.

Give Legend space to wreak havoc.

Protect Sky.

Beat the monsters.

Give Legend space to wreak havoc.

Protect Sky.

Like a dirge of war, the wolf’s thoughts swirl with his own, red clouding his vision as the Ordon Sword severs limbs and head and cleft bodies in two. Feet dance the war stomps of bloodlust as eyes flash with the golden of the wolf.

“Portal!” Wild screams over the din of the monsters falling. “Hylia’s!” His pup sounds strained, rage and terror mixing in a cocktail of fury as arrows plunge into the enemy and weapons fly loose across the Champion’s personal battle space, an area where even the monsters drew back in fear while the rest of the heroes give the youngster ample space to cause chaos.

Sure enough, the portal’s golden power is sweeping across the field, the faint brush of feathers over their cheeks and shoulders and the whisper of warmth and honey as the goddess’s strength flows over the field.

“Legend, watch out!” Hyrule’s cry cuts through, and Twilight only has enough time to see the blackened hand swing forwards and catch hold of Legend’s tunic before the golden glow of the shift swept it all away.

[royallyjoon]

nephilim (cinq)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere bts x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, physical assault, graphic descriptions of violence, manipulation, (slight) gaslighting

you were left, abandoned by mortals and immortals alike. darkness knows no bounds, and neither does punishment. there is no refuge in neither blood nor flesh from its wrath. if darkness welcomes you, should you open your arms to it in return? if darkness turns you away, does that mean you’ve won? should you choose to cast aside this lonely path of yours, and your conviction along with it, regardless of whatever other horrors lie in wait, you will be saved. 

——————————————————————

What is one to do when they hear the words they’ve feared the most leave someone else’s mouth?

The moment they graced Jin’s eardrums, he gripped his phone so tightly he could hear the glass screen crack. 

He and Yoongi had been assisting their father in the woods with preparations for the next meeting, the ominous hour approaching in no less than ten days.

He ignored Moonsik and Yoongi for a moment to answer his phone. 

“Hello?”

He could barely make out any of Jimin’s words--the boy’s blubbering masked too much of the information.

“Robotics...bathroom...”

“Jimin, I can’t hear anything over the sound of you crying. What’s going on?”

“(Y/N)...rooftop...Aemilia...”

“What are you trying to say?” Yoongi stopped talking to the older man, shifting his gaze toward his elder brother as he noticed Jin’s voice raise in irritation and concern.

“Blood...”

“Blood?!”

——————————————————————

Jimin had walked out of robotics a little early today, bored to tears.

He had felt much better after getting rid of the idiotic gaggle that dared to threaten you, and threaten him into abandoning you.

He should have known it wouldn’t be enough. He should’ve never left your side, he thought as he kneeled on the rooftop, staring forlornly at the pool of partially dried blood on the concrete.

“She was bleeding, hyung. Aemilia or her people must have taken her, but I have no idea where they went.”

Namjoon had been in the middle of a meeting with the school board, representing the student council.

Hoseok had been in the dance studio, barking orders out at somewhat competent underclassmen.

Jungkook and Taehyung were holed up in the younger’s room, playing games rather than doing any actual work.

In short, none of them were prepared. None of them had been there for you as they had promised.

You trusted them when you needed them most, and they left you high and dry.

Jimin felt like he would never be able to get the disappointment and guilt off of his chest.

——————————————————————

Namjoon bounded into the clearing, his usually polished exterior uncharacteristically tarnished. 

Hoseok appeared not long after him, having raced to the woods the moment he received the news.

They were met by Seokjin and Yoongi, who stood with their arms crossed over their chests, near a miserable Jungkook and a pacing Taehyung. Both boys had been in the house, so they were the first to arrive.

Jimin got there last, his hands and uniform pants stained red from the puddle he had kneeled in on the rooftop.

Six pairs of eyes landed on him and his appearance, confirming the worst.

“Three!” Seokjin cried incredulously. “Three of you were on campus, surrounded by a bunch of humans, and not a single one of you managed to keep an eye on her!”

“She could be anywhere,” Jungkook groaned in fear. 

“By all means, please don’t start caring now. It’s too late.” Yoongi snapped at him. “You and Taehyung drove straight home to do absolutely nothing. You could at least have offered her a ride home and ensured that she was safe. You’re just as responsible as they are.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew glassy, but only because he knew his brother was right. 

“As much as you enjoy playing the blame game, we have more pressing matters to address.” Namjoon interjected in an attempt to calm them down.

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it, Namjoon.” Seokjin’s icy tone sent a chill down their backs. “If we really wanted to play the blame game, we would have recognized how this is all your fault.”

The leader stood in tense silence.

“What did I tell you mere hours before this happened?” He continued, walking toward Namjoon until they were face to face. “I told you to get your shit together and to keep that girl in line. Hell, none of this would have happened if we hadn’t followed your idiotic plan in the first place.”

Seokjin was rarely ever angry enough to hiss in his brother’s face. They had all learned a long time ago that to provoke the oldest was to invoke Death.

“We all agreed his plan was the best choice at the time, hyung.” Yoongi cautiously approached the two and lay a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder, leveling a glare of his own at Namjoon. “We can deal with him later. We need to find her first.”

Jimin took the opportunity to step further into the clearing and brandished his phone, the device still open to his messages. “(Y/N) texted me saying Aemilia invited her up to roof and that she assumed it was for a confrontation of some sort.” 

“Aemilia doesn’t have the ability or strength to do damage like that by herself, though.” Taehyung frowned as he gestured to Jimin’s clothes. “Unless...”

The brothers looked at each other in realization and one by one, rushed out the clearing and out the forest. 

A quick drive to the center of the city and one pitifully short interrogation later, their suspicions were settled.

Hoseok growled as he re-entered the van, slamming the car door shut. “How dare he? When did he gain the courage to mobilize our own forces without our knowledge?”

“Never mind Augustus,” Jimin said, although his eyes blazed with anger. “Where would they take her?”

“That dog wouldn’t have taken her to the normal base, she has far too much malicious intent for (Y/N).” Taehyung growled.

Jungkook lightly tapped his fingers on the car door, looking out the window when the thought hit him.

“You don’t think they’d take her to...?”

His brothers looked at him in confusion, but he pointed out the window at the tree line of the woods. 

Having grown up in those woods, they knew it like the back of their hand. 

They knew the places were young townspeople would go to goof off, the places they had claimed for themselves, and the places that were...strictly off-limits.

It didn’t take much longer for the realization to set in.

Once it had, they took off in the direction of the forest.

——————————————————————

In your dream, you once again stood before Ichabod Chapel.

The Chapel, adorned with green vines, had long since been abandoned. Once, the walls must have been a beautiful ivory, but now they were a dark beige, having rotted with time.

A complete opposite to the image of the decrepit church, the seven Kim brothers stood on the ground in front of the entrance, visions dressed in various black silks.

Contrary to its original purpose, the material looked anything but light and airy--in fact, it looked as though it was weighed down or soaked, doused in some unknown substance.

You looked down to see that you were dressed in a white, ceremonial outfit. It billowed out like a ball gown, the sleeves drawing lacy patterns swirling up to your thumb. 

When you looked up, you were stunned by the brilliant, black wings that extended from the backs of the seven men before you. 

The sight of their wings enraptured you, those gorgeous appendages, feathers glossy under the moonlight.

Each of them had their own, unique set, varying in shapes and sizes, though the largest pair of wings belonged to none other than Kim Namjoon, who stood in the center of his brothers, hands in his pocket as he flashed you a familiar, mischievous grin.

Namjoon was the first to step out of the line, casually extending his hand out to you, and you hesitantly raised a dainty, (s/c) hand in return, placing it in his.

He pulled you into his arms and you felt him wrap them around you.

His brothers came to circle around the two of you, eventually joining the hug as well. 

Then, the whispers began.

Their tone was loving, though their words were anything but.

They were desperate, consuming, obsessive, threatening. 

They wanted you to love them, they needed you to love them, why couldn’t you understand? 

Your head pounded, filled to the brim with cruel promises of tenderness and affection.

The substance from their silks seeped into your clothes, rapidly staining your white outfit red.

You realized just what it was that they were doused in and tried to pull away from their arms but they surrounded you, locking you into their hold. 

The harder you fought to get out, the tighter they held on to you until you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

Things were better this way. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do to protect you.  There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for your love.

How could you scorn their love for you? How could you treat them like this?

 They didn’t want to hurt anyone you cared about. They didn’t want to eliminate everyone you love in order to bring you to their side, but they would if they had to. 

They paid no mind to the way you were drowning in the smell of it, drowning in blood. Was it yours or someone else’s? Was it your mother’s? Mana’s?

All you knew was that they were done playing games.

——————————————————————

Your eyes flashed open and you winced as you immediately wished they hadn’t.

Your head pounded, each thump forcing your eyes shut with the intensity, still not having recovered from the several hits it received. 

For a moment it felt as though you were still unconscious and drenched in darkness, as when you tried to get a glimpse of your surroundings, you only saw shadows and moving, ambiguous shapes. 

The movement of the ground beneath you, however, quickly dispelled such thoughts. 

It appeared as though you were being carried over someone’s shoulder. Despite the extra weight, the person you currently rested on was light and quick on their feet, moving with a speed that made you feel worse than you already were.

The familiar crunching of leaves and branches on the ground made your heart beat just a bit harder. 

According to their footsteps and what you could see of your surroundings, you surmised they had taken you to the forest.

It had been mid afternoon when Aemilia and the people who worked for her and her family accosted you at the roof. Now, there was barely a hint of the moon in your surroundings.

Did she intend to have her people tie you up to the wooden pyre and set you aflame, like some sick imitation of a witch burning at the stake? Or to make it seem as though the Kims had done it?

Despite how afraid of Mayor Kim the citizens were, there was no way everyone would believe you died in such a gaudy display. 

Only the purple fire that Mayor Kim was capable of conjuring left nothing behind, after all. If they were to going to get rid of you by fire, your remains would be found.

There’s no way you could ensure that, however. 

There’s no guarantee that Aemilia wouldn’t be able to make good on her promise and utterly destroy you.

A light cough broke the silence, bringing you back to the present, and you tried to calm your heartbeat. There’s no way your captors would believe you were asleep if you kept scaring yourself like this.

You felt a tight, scratchy material around your wrists and your hands laying against your back.

You successfully clenched your hands. So they hadn’t drugged you while you were out. 

You were hesitant to shift, as you feared your captors would notice your cognizant state, so you resorted yourself to blinking at the ground and gritting your teeth from the pain and nausea. 

Thankfully, the people you were with appeared to be none the wiser. 

“Are we almost there?” A deep voice, seemingly annoyed, huffed.

“Be patient, Lee.” You felt the vibrations of the person carrying you as they replied. “This isn’t just any other job.” 

“I understand, but don’t you think Miss Augustus is going too far?”

Your captor scoffed. “If you want to question the Augustuses, thereby questioning the Kims and their authority, be my guest. I just hope you and your family will be able to deal with the consequences.”

The second captor, Lee, had nothing else to say after that. 

The quiet of the forest left a buzzing in your ears and the swinging sensation your body was making whilst strewn over the person’s back became too much to bear. 

You figured you’d just make your captor angrier if you barfed down their back and tried to shift to draw their attention, but it was too late. 

The acrid taste of bile and what you had for lunch earlier that day reached your mouth and your lifted your head, spitting out as much of it as you could.

There was a yell of anger and disgust, and your captor shoved you off of them and onto the forest floor. 

You held back a shout as you hit the ground, injuring your side even further, and let out the rest of your meal.

“What the-?! This disgusting bitch!”

Your captor launched another kick at your stomach and you fought back tears as they aggravated the wounds already in place. 

Lee stopped them after a while, complaining that another round of beating would just delay their job even further. 

You wiped your mouth off on your shoulder and grimaced.

To your surprise, you found that you could move your legs.

The first captor lifted you to your feet by your collar, and you recognized him as Mr. Byun, the man the strawberry blonde had referred to earlier. 

“Your legs still work for a reason,” he sneered and pushed you forward.

Your legs did indeed work, but were wobbly after hours of no use. 

You tripped and almost fell to the floor again, the bonds around your wrists preventing you from reaching out to break your fall, when the second captor grabbed you by the back of your shirt and held you up. 

“I’m not really in the mood for any of your foolishness, girl.” Lee glowered down at you. “Use your legs properly, or I’ll break them and drag you by the hair. It would be all too easy.”

You heard a suspicious click and your eyes flickered over to Byun, whose hand rested on his waist. In the other, however, he fiddled with a small lever on what appeared to be a firearm.

“Do you understand?” The second captor shook you and your brain protested, rattling around far too much for its liking. 

The thought of escape, which had been curling up inside you like the beginning of a fire, was quickly extinguished. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded.

He pushed you away from him and you walked, following him with Byun at your back, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

You couldn’t tamper with the ropes around your wrist, as Byun was watching your every move. There was also the gun, and the fact that both men were trained in the use of it as well as martial arts.

Was there truly no way to escape?

——————————————————————

The three of you walked for what felt like hours, reaching a part of the woods that you had never seen before.

Here, the trees were sparse and had already lost all of their leaves. The dark branches coiled and twisted toward the sky, as if reaching for affection that would never be reciprocated. The stumps were old, the ground hard.

And then, a clearing. But not the one you were used to seeing.

Your heart dropped as you walked between two trees, noticing the view beyond them. 

You could now tell that it was well after midnight, for the sun was nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless, as always, the moon was high in the sky. 

Wylynne gazed down on the clearing with a force, as if the moon goddess wanted you to see bright and clear what awaited you.

The crumbling cliff before you overlooked a tranquil lake. Clouds hung in the distance, obscuring what was undoubtedly the outside world.

The outside of Ichabod.

Such tranquility had no business here, you thought to yourself as the pace of your breathing increased. 

Your captors had brought you to Lorne’s Ledge, also known as the edge of no return.

It was forbidden territory for any Ichabodian citizen.

Even before Mayor Kim came to town, even before the Augustus family had their reign: this was one of the oldest, most sacred spots in Ichabod.

The lady of the cliff, Lorne, saw to it that the forsaken never returned home.

You shuddered. The folklore didn’t scare you in the slightest. It would always be the work of man that you detested. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel some foreign, oppressive gaze resting on you now that you were here. As if Lorne herself were staring at you, waiting for you to join her in the watery depths--

That familiar click sounded again and your eyes shot to the side. You tried to slowly turn around, but the press of metal against your back forced you to stop all movement.

Lee smirked. “We have arrived at your final destination, my lady.”

“Miss Augustus was generous enough to leave you with two options. You can walk off and take a nice rest in the lake, or you can die before your body ever hits the water.” The man smiled mirthlessly down at you. “Which would you prefer?”

You blinked rapidly, mind racing. Even if you were capable of swimming, with these injuries, you wouldn’t be able to survive the fall off the ledge, 

They truly meant for you to die.

Lee didn’t seem to be in the mood for your deliberation as his cruel smile slipped into an infuriated frown. “Choose.” He growled. “My friend here would be all too happy to make the choice for you. How does a bullet in your brain and being rolled off the cliff sound?”

Byun dug the weapon into your skin and you winced, shaking your head. 

“I’ll-I’ll go. I’ll walk myself.”

Your voice cracked horribly after not speaking for so many hours, but the message was received. 

The metal was removed from your backside and you sighed in relief.

The man in front of you said nothing, simply stepping out of your path. 

You took a couple more breaths and slowly turned to face him. “C-Can I ask you to do something? As a final request.”

He raised an eyebrow at you in response.

You titled your head in the direction of your back. “Can you untie my hands? After I disappear, there might be a search for me, and someone might try to dig through the lake for my body. A suicide will be completely ruled out if they find the ropes.”

There was no way this would work. Even the Augustuses were too intimidated to bother touching the lake for fear of Lorne’s wrath. 

Besides, the police knew when and where to look, and where to say they looked. They would lie to your friends and family through their teeth.

Lee must not have been on the force for very long, however, because he grunted and pulled your hands to him. 

With a slice, the ropes fell to the ground and you clutched your wrists to your chest, nodding partly in thanks and partly in disbelief.

It...worked.

You rubbed your hands together and gently blew on them, fingers numb from the cold breeze. 

Your captors stood together between the trees, blocking the entrance. They murmured quietly to themselves and you continued to morph your face and body expressions into one of a pitiful teenager about to die, concealing the rather reckless thoughts you were having.

You finally turned around and walked back until you were in front of them, catching the two men off guard. They quieted and stared at you, hands at their weapons. 

You met each of them in the eye and bowed, lower than you ever had before, then stood upright.

They looked at you incredulously, giving you just enough time to give Lee a harsh kick between his legs and pry the knife out of his hand.

You slashed at his neck, adrenaline returning full force, and actually managed to cut the man. 

He shouted in pain and brought a hand up to the wound, trying to stop the blood.

Before you could turn to face Byun, however, the loud crack of a gunshot was heard throughout the forest and you felt a painful sting on your hand. 

You yelped as you dropped the knife.

Then, there was a second gunshot and the pain returned full force, this time on your shoulder.

The elder captor, completely fed up with your actions, slammed the gun against your head and you crumpled to the ground. 

You could feel something wet on your hand and clothes, but there was too much of it to be sweat in the midnight chill. You slowly lifted your hand, only to see it covered in a dark liquid.

Byun restrained Lee from attempting to beat you this time, barely casting a glance at your pitiful form. 

“Calm yourself. She won’t be alive for much longer.” He gruffed. “She said she would walk herself, so walk she will. We’re just here to watch and make sure it happens.”

He stood over your form and pointed the gun at your head. “What a useless attempt. Get up.”

Your shoulder and hand burned like hell, but you complied. 

You got to your feet once more and stumbled forward, every step taking you further and further away from the two. 

The barrel of the gun followed your every move.

The tears you’d been struggling to hold back ran full force now at the thought of your imminent death. But rather than let your captors feast upon the sight of your defeated form, you stopped.

You were covered in blood. Your uniform was sullied by your own vomit and dirt. 

But you straightened your back, ignoring the pain in your shoulder, and held your head up high. 

You had reached the edge of the cliff now, but your vision was too blurry to see anything besides the vast blue beneath you. 

The lake that rested below had no warmth or safety to provide for you, but neither did the forest behind you.

You considered praying to Wylynne to see if, in all her majesty and grace, she would save you.

Yet clearly, just like all the people who had come before you, just like the lady of the lake herself, the moon goddess had forsaken you.

You were tired. Too tired to fight against what some would call fate.

You whispered an apology to your mother and Mana, and perhaps even to the brothers, the reason why, you did not know.

Your eyes captured the overcast image of the outside world one last time, then you turned around and took a backward step off the cliff with a sad smile, eyes falling closed, mentally locked on that solitary picture.

Above you, you thought you heard the pained screams and grunts of your captors, sounding as though they were struggling against something or someone. 

But before you, you saw your mother with her arms outstretched, that patient, loving smile on her face. 

You reached forward, wrapped your arms around her, and readily slipped into darkness.

Above your falling form, a shadow zipped through the dawn, racing to reach you before you hit the water. 

He saw you smile and lift an arm into the air, before the smile slipped off your face and your limbs went limp.

The large, black wings at his back beat furiously and he flew faster than he ever had before until he had your beaten form cradled to his chest. 

The two of you suddenly shot upward into the air as your descent slowed, and as the first rays of daylight peeked out from above the clouds, his form hung in the air, almost frozen in time, black wings outstretched and supporting the two of you as he floated above Lorne’s Ledge. 

Kim Jimin hovered, adorned in the light of the early morning sun, peering callously down at the vermin who lay trembling between him and his brothers. 

Or what was left of them, at least.

Jungkook had managed to get his hands on the elder one, and the arm he had been using to carry the gun had been ripped clean off. 

He was now whimpering in excruciating pain, clutching at the place where his limb had once been.

The younger one, on the other hand, lay resting against a tree. 

Unmoving, his eyes unseeing. 

All it had taken was one touch from Hoseok, and the man’s life force was gone, sucked out of him before he could even protest.

He was now nothing more than a lifeless sack of meat.

Taehyung picked up the body as Yoongi kicked one of the elder’s legs to get his attention.

The others stood threateningly over Byun, glowering down at him in utter loathe, as though he were a louse.

The old man whimpered, looking up and between them, then paling in horror as he saw Taehyung and Jimin.

The younger brother walked toward the elder as Jimin gently touched down on the ground, your form still protectively pressed to him. The two Kims met eyes and nodded at each other.

Taehyung turned around and flashed Mr. Byun a crazed smile before flinging Lee’s body as far as he could over the cliff.

He gaped in horror and his voice rose multiple decibels, pleads for his life escaping before he could properly think them through.

Seokjin squatted down until he was at an eye level with him, strong, black wings threateningly displayed. He grinned. 

“If you think you have even any hope of escaping your friend’s fate,” he said as the smile slipped off his face, “you’re dead wrong.”

He glared at Byun with cold, amber irises. “But before we end your insignificant, paltry life, you’re going to tell us who sent you and why.”

They already had proof of Aemilia’s crime from Aloysius Augustus himself but they wanted to be sure.

He looked at the younger gentlemen with tears in his eyes. He fought through his pain and got on both knees.

“There’s no use in begging,” Namjoon stated, arms crossed over his chest. For the first time, he couldn’t find anything amusing in the matter.

“Please! We were only receiving orders, Miss Augustus--”

Before he could finish his sentence, Yoongi used Lee’s discarded knife and slashed it across Byun’s neck, silencing him in an instant. 

The light left his eyes and the man’s body flopped over.

Taehyung didn’t think twice about kicking him off the cliff, either.

Now that those pests were taken care of, the seven rushed to turn their attention on you. 

The bleeding from your shoulder and hand had not slowed in the slightest, and they could hardly feel your pulse.

“We need to get her to the hospital, and fast.” Hoseok said, swallowing the rising lump in his throat.

“I’m the fastest. I can take her there.” Taehyung volunteered.

The brothers agreed, and you were gently deposited into Taehyung’s arms. 

“When you’re sure she’s safe, meet us back here in the woods,” Yoongi said. “You’ll know where to find us.”

"Yes, hyung.” Taehyung spread his wings and took off into the sky.

He carefully cradled you, shifting your body into one of his arms, and attempted to heal some of your worse injuries along the way.

He pressed one hand to your abdomen and began muttering under his breath, a panicked tear slipping out the corner of his eye as he peered at the extent of the damage.

Once your ribs were mostly healed, he pulled his hand away, leaving behind a canvas of dark blue, yellow, and green bruises. He winced and moved on, pressing his hand to your head.

You made no movements, body as limp as ever in his arms. 

Taehyung touched down on the roof of the hospital and tucked those magnificent, black wings together, the appendages fading away as if they were never there. 

He held his arm out, his palm facing the door. He only meant to unlock it, but utterly destroyed it in his haste. Quite frankly, he couldn’t have cared less. 

He hurriedly walked down the stairwell and burst into the hospital’s eleventh floor lobby, reserved for VIP care and treatment. 

A receptionist was working at the front desk, typing away without a care in the world.

He was interrupted by Taehyung’s shouts. “I found her in the woods outside of our home this morning--she’s badly injured, please help!”

He looked up at the boy’s outburst, eyes widening when he realized just who and what he was looking at.

He immediately called for available nurses to bring a bed and admit you to a room, then paged any available doctors.

“Do you know who she is, Mr. Kim?” A nurse asked as she examined you for damage.

He nodded. “She’s a classmate of mine, her name is (Y/N) (L/N). Her mother also works here--please notify her of her daughter’s arrival.”

The man nodded once more, sending someone else to page Nurse (L/N) from the fifth floor.

As the nurses wheeled you away, Taehyung grabbed the receptionist by the wrist and he whipped around in fear.

“This patient is very important,” Taehyung stressed, squeezing the man’s wrist harshly. “She is being admitted under the protection of Kim Moonsik himself, at the behest of our entire family. If anything happens to her...”

The receptionist gulped and nodded. “Of course, Mr. Kim. You don’t need to explain any further. We’ll do our absolute best to ensure her care and recovery.”

Taehyung glared down at him for a bit longer before he threw the man’s wrist aside and turned away from him. 

He rubbed at his wrist, knowing it would bruise in a couple of hours, or perhaps even minutes.

The man returned to his desk, beginning to fill out the paperwork for your stay. 

When he looked up to ask Taehyung more questions about your injuries, the boy had already disappeared.

——————————————————————

In Taehyung’s absence, the six brothers stretched out their wings and flew to a certain section of the woods behind the Kim family home. 

This part of the woods remained untouched by both the Kim family and the general public. It was only the seven who came out here, and only in times of dire consequence. 

Several trees in the area had fallen over, cracked in half as though hit or pushed in anger with some spectacular force.

Leaves and branches strewn all over the ground were blown away by the boys and the sudden breeze they brought, large wings disrupting the peaceful quiet of the forest.

The early morning sun peeked through the leaves, painting a picturesque view of the woods, a sharp contrast to the heavy, violent atmosphere headed its way.

Jungkook planted his feet on the ground first, tucking away his wings until they were out of sight. He angrily flicked what was left of Byun off his face, disgusted by the thick feel and metallic smell of mortal blood. 

Jimin followed right behind him, then Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin entered, Namjoon being the last to touch down on the forest floor.

Jimin and Jungkook met eyes with one another, their anger not even close to subsiding at the death of your captors. 

Yet, soon enough, curiosity and dread brought them out of their rage when they realized just how quiet it had gotten between the older members.

Jimin shifted his gaze, the frown on his face deepening when he saw the eldest brothers’ attention turn to Namjoon, who was standing deathly still, staring blankly ahead.

Seokjin raised an eyebrow as he glared down at the younger. Namjoon refused to meet his gaze.

The six of them stayed like that for a long time, even when they heard the loud beating of another pair of wings, and Taehyung joined them in the forest.

He turned to Jimin in confusion but the older simply shook his head and grabbed for his and Jungkook’s hands, squeezing them. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, Seokjin spoke. 

“There is no mercy for the prideful,” he stated with finality.

Namjoon flinched away at the words, eyes stuck to the ground.

“You weren’t able to uphold your oath, Namjoon ah,” Hoseok said. His words were concerned, but his tone reeked of condescension.

“And because of that, because of your utter failure, our beloved angel got hurt.” Yoongi hissed. “She almost died.”

Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin took menacing steps toward the leader. 

He heard his older brothers walking up to him, but refused to meet the wrath that was surely boiling in their gaze.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook watched on with bated breath, their hands still linked together.

Namjoon was frozen in place. 

As the leader of their group, there was rarely ever a moment where he was seen as weak. 

But the second he had received news of your capture, he lost even the strength to stand on his own two feet.

It was the thought of you, of saving you and bringing you to safety, that had kept him going. 

It was the only thing that had kept all seven of them sane.

Now that they knew you were going to live, he knew he couldn’t avoid his punishment any longer.

Namjoon’s facial expression didn’t change, even in the moment where, with surprising speed, Yoongi lashed out at him, decking him in the face and knocking him to the forest floor.

The student body president winced, gingerly gripping his nose as blood started to leak from it.

His older brothers stood, looking down at him in a mock semicircle.

“Yoongi ah,” Seokjin said, turning to the younger, “what is the punishment for those who commit the deadly sin of pride?”

“Being broken on the wheel, hyung.” Yoongi replied impassively. 

“Fortunately for you, or unfortunately, I should say,” Hoseok grinned down at Namjoon, “we don’t have a wheel.”

Seokjin stepped forward and lifted his foot above Namjoon’s right leg. 

“This is what happens when you place too much pride in yourself and in your actions.” He stated, then brought his foot down on Namjoon’s right leg.

He didn’t let up until there was a sick, audible crack. 

Namjoon reeled back, grunting in pain but refusing to scream. 

Yes, it hurt, but he knew he deserved it. He failed (Y/N). 

This is the least he could do to atone for his actions.

“All things considered, we’re being quite generous with you.” Yoongi stepped up next, kicking his broken leg aside to stomp down on his left one.

This time, Namjoon let out a jarring scream. 

“You still have the audacity to scream? To feel pain?” Yoongi ground his foot into the injury as though he were trying to put out a cigarette. “Imagine how much pain our beloved is in right now. Imagine what she wouldn’t have had to go through, had you done your job properly. Had you listened to us.”

The elder had never been kind or considerate when it came to delivering punishment, a fact that the younger brothers had quickly become accustomed to.

Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook looked on blankly, but inside they felt a deep sense of pity. 

Namjoon was their brother and their leader, the constant face of their strength.

It hurt to see him in so much pain, no matter how necessary it was. 

Namjoon sat on the forest floor, both legs twisted at an awkward angle. He grit his teeth together as he tried to control his breathing. 

He noticed no one else was approaching him, but he knew that the punishment wasn’t over yet, not so soon. He slowly, inquisitively lifted his head.

The eldest three looked at Namjoon expectedly. He pleadingly raised his eyebrows, but their stares held no mercy.

He bowed his head in defeat. 

The senior wrapped his right hand around his left forearm and squeezed until he heard something crack. 

There was the quick, soft sound of a sob coming out of his mouth, and then all was quiet. 

Hoseok went last, shuffling through the leaves on the forest floor to squat next to his younger brother, wiping away some of his tears and gently running his fingers through his hair. “We’re doing this for her. Everything we do is for her, you know that as well as we do.”

Namjoon glanced at him warily, tense because he knew what was coming next, but didn’t know when to expect it. 

“That’s why you’re prepared to face the consequences for your actions, yes...?”

With a sickeningly sweet smile, Hoseok wrapped his hands around Namjoon’s right forearm, breaking the bone in a quick moment.

Namjoon clenched his teeth together so hard, he swore he heard something else crack. 

Any movement within the top or lower half of his body left him in excruciating pain, and he stifled a scream each time.

“You did so well, Joonie.” Hoseok continued patting his head. 

They surrounded him, praising him with how well he took his punishment. 

He was only able to withstand a few more minutes of cognizant thought before his eyes rolled back into his head.

Hoseok caught his younger brother, gently laying him back onto the dirt.

The six men stood in the silence, staring at the form of their treasured leader with pity. 

Seokjin turned around and met each of his younger brothers in the eye. He then wordlessly walked away from the clearing and Namjoon’s broken body.

Yoongi and Hoseok followed him, blank expressions on their face.

The youngest brothers were all too quick to pick up on the message. 

Overstep your boundaries, and endure the same fate. 

After taking one more look at Namjoon, the youngest brothers trekked out of the forest, silently following behind the other angels.

——————————————————————

When you finally pried your eyes open, you were greeted by an unfamiliar chill.

You were cold. So cold, the chill settled uncomfortably in your bones.

White blankets were tucked around you, pristine sheets morphing to mimic your form. 

For a moment, you incredulously thought that this must have been your arrival to heaven.

Then, you soon heard a monotonous beeping and you felt the subtle prick of wires along your skin, an IV casually grazing across the back of your hand. 

It hurt to move your right shoulder, and your abdomen ached, the areas bandaged so tight you could just barely feel them. 

There were bandages around your wrists and hand as well, and the pungent scent of ointment told you those were for your rope burns and bullet graze. 

Your head injuries were also wrapped, if you deduced the source of your current headache correctly. 

You were alive. Alive, and well taken care of.

“(Y/N)?”

You winced, your head not taking too kindly to the reintroduction of noise. A swivel to your right, however, and your mother’s worried face appeared.

“...Mom?” You voice cracked horribly, and she smiled and hummed in acknowledgement, lifting a water pitcher next to her and pouring you a glass of water.

You drank as if you were Tantalus himself.

“I was so worried.” your mother stated, her voice breaking right along with yours. The sound alone nearly brought tears to your eyes. 

She lifted her hands and grasped your uninjured one, intertwining your fingers.

 “I got paged yesterday morning and asked to come up to the eleventh floor, just to find out that you had been admitted.” Your mother spoke, answering your questions before you even got the chance to ask. “And at the request of the entire Kim family, no less. Kim Taehyung brought you in himself, claiming you’d been assaulted and found outside their door.”

You tilted your head, peering at your mother in disbelief. 

She met your gaze and flicked her eyes toward the door, then back towards you without turning around. You followed their direction.

Outside the small, rectangular window of the door, there stood a tall figure dressed in dark clothing.

Your mother leaned toward you and whispered. “That woman has been standing guard since the doctors finished their checkup.”

You gulped and nodded in understanding.

“(Y/N).” Her tone shifted slightly, still holding concern but taking a solemn turn. “I never ask you questions about how school is and your life is going. We usually leave each other to our own devices, and that’s clearly been a mistake on my part. But I need you to be completely honest with me here.”

“Have you displeased the Kims in any way?” Her grip on your uninjured hand tightened to the point where all of your knuckles turned white. “If they have you here under some sort of watch until the next meeting...if they’re trying to...” 

Your mother gulped, unable to finish the rest of the sentence. 

Her voice lowered into a harsh whisper. “Tell me. I’ll go alert a trustworthy coworker, and I will have you out of this town before Kim Moonsik can utter another prayer.”

Your eyes widened comically. “Mom, no! Nothing like that happened. They saved me. The Kims saved my life.” You repeated, gripping her hands. “If they hadn’t brought me here, I would have-” 

The weight of your words finally hit you, and before you could realize, tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. “I could have...”

You fought to speak through the trembling of your lower lip. “I’m sorry I never told you about my day, I just thought I’d be able to handle it all by myself. The police commissioner’s daughter, she was trying to get rid of me and she-Mom, she-”

Your mother cupped your cheeks as your tears cascaded down your face. She gently rubbed your lower back as you muffled your cries by burying your head into her neck.

She didn’t let you go for a while, even after you managed to collect yourself. 

She poured you another glass of water and you sipped at the beverage, telling her the trials you’d faced these past couple of weeks.

“I thought it was a regular instance of bullying,” you sniffled, putting the plastic cup down. “that she didn’t want me getting too close to her crush. So I endured because I had no intention of taking anything of hers away. Who am I, in Ichabod, compared to a woman of prestige like that?” You sarcastically asked.

“But apparently, my mere existence bothered her.” You shakily recounted what had ultimately been the most terrifying moments of your life to your mother. 

You obscured some parts of the story, not wanting your mother to worry even more, and claimed that the Augustus’ men had taken you to the clearing to scare you and beat you up, and that you surmised they dropped you off outside of the Kim home afterward. 

By the time she finished hearing the whole story, her grip had embedded itself into the edge of the hospital bed. 

Your mother’s vexation was interrupted by the sound of people speaking outside your door.

“Ma’am, I apologize. By the order of Kim Moonsik, only family members are allowed to visit the patient right now.” The figure outside your door spoke with an uninterested tone.

“With all due respect, officer, please don’t assume my gender.” You heard a familiar voice snipe. “My best friend is lying in there and she’s practically a sister to me. I don’t particularly give a damn about your order. Kim Moonsik can kiss my-”

“Mana!” You yelled, trying to catch both of their attention before your best friend could get themselves arrested. 

You flipped the hospital blankets off of you and your mother helped you to your feet, then to the door. The injuries on your abdomen and head protested with every step.

The guard’s eyes widened a bit as you slid the door open, and so did the eyes of every hospital staff within sight of your room. 

“Ms. (L/N), I implore you, please go back to bed to rest!” A nurse in the hallway rushed over. 

The guard hastily nodded in agreement. “Yes, please do. I sincerely apologize for the commotion.”

You waved them off, reaching a hand out to Mana. “I'll go back to bed, but only if you let Mana in. They’re family.”

Mana stood in the hallway, hurriedly dressed in sweatpants, a disheveled oversized hoodie, and sneakers, but gingerly holding a teddy bear with a card.

The guard looked between you, Mana, and the nurse for quite some time. The nurse’s frantic expression must have convinced her, though, because she finally stepped aside.

Mana extended their arm, gently grabbing your hand in return and waltzing past the security guard with a smug expression. 

The moment the three of you were back in the room, however, they ushered you back to bed as well.

“(N/N)!” Mana said, going to hug you, then rethinking it when they spotted all the bandages. 

They placed the teddy bear in your arms and stood a card that cheerily read “Get Well Soon!” on your nightstand. “How are you feeling? I’m so sorry--I should have been there with you!”

“My head and chest hurt, but I’m alright.” You shook your head with a small smile, clutching the doll to your chest. “Don’t apologize, you had no idea this was going to happen. This was all the result of my stupid decision--I was the one who fell into her trap.”

Your mother excused herself, leaving you and Mana alone for a few minutes.

You filled them in on what had happened to you, withholding no details, and their face lit up in anger. “She ordered them to take you to Lorne’s Ledge?! That psychotic cunt! Just wait until I drag her across the square, we’ll see how high and mighty she is then-”

“Mana, calm down.” You smiled, thankful for your friend’s protectiveness, but weary after everything you’d just gone through. 

“I never want to stoop to her level,” you admitted, wringing the sheets in your hands. 

Your mother gently slid open the door, returning with water and a tray of food for you.

“I think...I’ve had enough of mind games and tricks for a while.” You whispered, then smiled at her as she lay the meal in front of you.

Mana’s gaze turned soft, and they patted your hands and back in support. 

“I don’t even want to think of what would have happened if the Kims hadn’t gotten there in time.” your mother muttered. 

You nodded in agreement. 

You weren’t particularly sure how or why, but the Kims had saved your life. 

Not only had they offered you some of the best care in the city, free of charge, but they even stationed people outside your room.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, something told you that holding them with such a mindset would put you exactly where they wanted you to be. 

Yet something else countered that thought, claiming that it was that same distancing mindset that had pushed you into the arms of danger in the first place. 

Perhaps Mayor Kim felt responsible for it because his men got usurped by a high school girl.

Or, perhaps, it was his sons who felt even more responsible.

Your mother and Mana stayed with you the rest of the night, each taking up their own positions on the furniture. Mana draped themself on the couch while your mother took the armchair.

You allowed yourself to drift off to the sound of them breathing, the chill and fear of the previous morning now a distant, foreign thing.

——————————————————————

Your mother and Mana weren’t constantly at your side, as one had to attend to her duties at work and the other had to go to school. 

There were other individuals who were perfectly happy to waste the day with you, though.

On the first day, you were visited by Jimin.

The sophomore’s usual high-energy self was nowhere to be seen as he stepped into your hospital room holding a small bouquet of (your favorite flowers). 

Jimin rushed at you, barely giving himself enough time to greet him before he fell to his knees in front of your hospital bed. 

You gasped aloud in surprise and urged him to stand, but he would have none of it. 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” His eyes glistened as water streaked down his cherubic face. “If I had read your message earlier, if I hadn’t been so stupid to turn my phone off, you never would have gotten hurt like this.”

You winced as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, your hand only hurting slightly less than it had before. “You didn’t know at the time, I wouldn’t blame you for that. When you did know, you rushed to help me. That’s something I will be forever grateful to you for.” 

You exhaled and smiled your rare, genuine smile, a warm countenance on your face that pierced Jimin’s soul. “So please,” you held your hand out to Jimin.

The boy looked up, pitiful expression morphing into a delighted smile. He gently took your hand and stood, then ushered you to rest comfortably back at the top of the bed. 

The two of you spent the rest of the day talking, Jimin distracting you from your current situation with stories about his family and their travels. 

By the time you realized you’d never gotten answers to your questions, the sun was starting to set and you were having trouble keeping your eyes open in the middle of Jimin’s conversation.

If the raven haired boy had noticed it, he didn’t say anything. 

If anything, he continued speaking, his voice low and chiming with laughter as he recounted precious memories.

When he heard the familiar sound of your soft, slow breathing, he stopped. He simply gazed upon your visage, smiling at the way your (s/c) skin lit up in the afternoon sun and held a hand up to block the light from getting in your eyes.

He stayed that way for the next several minutes, then gently caressed your cheek, letting his hands linger for shorter than he would have liked.

Once the night was well underway, Jimin collected his things and left your side with one more forlorn look.

He shot a strict gaze at the guard, who gulped and nodded at the unspoken order.

Finally, he turned and walked down the hallway toward the elevators. 

——————————————————————

On the second day, you were visited by Taehyung. You were still asleep when he first came into the room, but your mother was sitting beside you and her eyes widened when she saw him.

Before the younger boy could even speak, the older woman bowed low in gratitude.

Few people had ever seen your mother in a vulnerable state, you included, as she purposefully made it so. 

Taehyung was a rare exception that day as he gently gripped her shoulders, feeling the slight trembles that coursed through her as he straightened her posture. 

Suppressing an amused smile, Taehyung thought of the differences between you and his supposed mother. 

While the actress trembled out of fear for her own life, your mother shook at the thought of losing you.

As expected from the woman who raised you, their perfect treasure.

“I can never repay you for the hospitality you’ve shown my daughter,” your mother whispered.

“There’s no need for such matters, Ms. (L/N). We’ll always protect and watch out for your daughter. We’re honored to have her in our lives.” Taehyung replied with a sincere tone.

She accepted the flowers he brought, carefully laying the bouquet on your nightstand, right next to the vase where Jimin’s flowers lay. 

When you did wake up, you had your own chance to thank Taehyung for finding you and bringing you to safety, along with sponsoring your stay in the hospital. 

He waved away your thanks, claiming that he was simply glad that you had turned to Jimin for assistance so that they were able to know about it.

“You know we’ll always be there for you, right (Y/N)?”

Always.

“Just say the word and we’ll come running.”

We love you.

His heart ached with the weight of the words he couldn’t say.

But you smiled in appreciation and he melted, as it was the smile they had longed to see for so long. The one that you usually reserved for your mother or Mana, the one that they had only gotten glimpses of in the time that they had known you.

He wouldn’t let you do anything for yourself the entire time, claiming you needed to rest up and heal as soon as possible. You reluctantly agreed, enjoying an unusually lazy day.

He played music for you, and soon enough the two of you were lost in a passionate conversation about your favorite artists. Funnily enough, there were several of them who you shared interest in.

Before Taehyung returned home for the day, he insisted on covering you with the blanket as well, tucking it up to your neck and pressing it in at the sides.

Your eyes were closed out of embarrassment as his form hung over yours. 

He fought the urge to bend down and kiss your forehead, for he still feared that he could frighten you away.

Instead, he reached up and switched off the light directly above your bed. With an ambiguous smile, he left, closing the door behind him.

——————————————————————

On the third day, you were visited by Jungkook.

The atmosphere was a little awkward at first, considering how soft-spoken the freshman tended to be around you.

When you tried shifting the conversation by asking him about his personal interests and passions, however, his eyes lit up.

Jungkook demonstrated several different types of punches for you in the room, even helping you weakly set up your form with your still healing hands. 

You learned much more about boxing forms and gaming techniques that day than you could ever remember, but you did leave with plans to have private self-defense lessons with Jungkook after you’d finished healing.

At some point during his visit, you had drifted off and by the time you woke up again, Jungkook was already gone. 

You panicked slightly, worried that he’d be upset and think that you wanted him to leave. As you turned to your phone, however, you noticed a folded piece of paper resting on top of the back of it.

When you opened the paper, you saw a beautiful pen-and-ink sketch of you, lying in your hospital bed and napping. 

Jungkook had somehow taken your messy, disheveled state and turned it into something that evoked a tender feeling within you.

You grinned down at the paper, amazed by his talent. Was this how he saw you? As this...ephemeral, peaceful being?

You gently stood the paper up so that it rested between the two vases that housed Jimin and Taehyung’s flowers, right next to Mana’s card.

The afternoon soon gave way to evening, then evening to night.

——————————————————————

On the fourth day, Seokjin saved you from the monotony of bland, hospital food by bringing you home cooked meals. 

The mere smell of the dishes had your mouth watering. 

He refused to let you do anything yourself, much like Taehyung had the other day. But unlike Taehyung, Jin went so far as to feed you himself.

It was embarrassing, but no matter how much you protested, he wouldn’t let up.

He sat in the chair your mother usually preoccupied and held the utensils out to you, neatly making sure you finished your meals.

At one point, he pretended the food was an airplane and you playfully slapped his arm, resulting in him dissolving into a surprising windshield-wiper-like laugh. 

Jin spent the rest of the day with you, telling you awful jokes that under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have found that funny. 

His companionship was greatly appreciated, however, and you found that you grew surprisingly fond of his laugh.

Before Jin left for the evening, he gently lifted your hand and placed it in his lap, then revealed another bag he’d brought on his visit.

To your surprise, he clipped a small (silver/gold/rose gold) bracelet around your wrist. The ornament carried two charms: one of a well-detailed moon, the other a pair of angel wings.

You rushed to have him take the bracelet off, hesitant to accept such a valuable gift. 

Yet the look in his eyes pierced right through you, his previous joy still present and glimmering but hidden beneath the depths of something more sinister.

You leaned against your pillows as Jin gently lifted the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it, just like he had the first night you met. 

“The moment I saw it, I thought of you.” He smiled, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your wrist. “Keep it. For me?”

It wasn’t a request.

——————————————————————

On the fifth day, you were visited by Hoseok and Yoongi.

You were slightly surprised at the fact that they had come together, as their outer attitudes seemed to be opposites, but you found that they complemented each other very well. 

They were extremely considerate of you, allowing you to do things for yourself but offering their assistance should you need it. 

Hoseok spent the day cheering you up by performing routines for you in the little space the room provided.

As strict as he was infamous for being, Hoseok clearly knew his craft. You were mesmerized by his movements and insisted on clapping for each of his performances, your hand healing quite nicely now.

Yoongi delighted you with tales of his rambunctious actions in high school, and some of the best well-kept faculty secrets.

There were several things you learned about Ms. Divii and Mrs. Hargrove that day that you would have been perfectly happy not knowing for the rest of your life, but you giggled and gossiped all the same.

It appeared as though the elder Kim brothers had a similar thought process, as Hoseok and Yoongi each gifted you (silver/gold/rose gold) jewelry similar to what you had received the day prior.

Hoseok looked as though we was going to cry when you went to turn down his gift.

One sharp look from Yoongi later, you closed your mouth, smiled, and expressed your thanks.

Hoseok fondly clipped the necklace onto you, his heart performing somersaults as you leaned into his embrace. 

He silently gulped, overcome by the sudden desire to press his lips to your neck. 

When he made eye contact with Yoongi over your shoulder, his face reddened slightly as the elder smirked at him.

He reigned in the perceptible want in his eyes and leaned back, flashing you his signature smile. “There you are, angel. Pretty as a picture.”

You lowered your head to hide your flush. “You guys really don’t have to bring me these gifts,” you murmured lightly. 

“With a visage as perfect as yours, we simply can’t help ourselves.” Yoongi stated in reply, lifting your ring finger to slide a band onto it. 

How unfortunate it was that it was the right hand instead of the left.

He was able to hide his disappointment from you, but not from Hoseok. 

Nevertheless, there would surely be an opportunity in the near future.

How else would all of those worthless people know that you belonged to them?

——————————————————————

On the sixth day, Namjoon limped his way into your hospital room, a grimace on his face. 

You greeted him with a warm smile that quickly shifted into a worried expression. “Oh goodness, are you alright?”

Namjoon nodded, taking the seat next to your bed. “I injured my leg, it’s nothing serious. I should be perfectly alright soon.”

Seokjin had been kind enough to heal most of his limbs, the elder worried about your reaction to seeing him in such a state. 

They purposefully made him wait in agonizing pain for nearly a week, however, to rub the punishment in, before clearing him to go visit you. 

It seemed as though the student body president had lost his usual self-assured, constantly amused atmosphere. He was strangely quiet, and his body language was similar to that of a man who’d been beaten into submission. 

That was far from the Kim Namjoon you knew.

For several moments, the two of you sat in awkward silence.

The two of you hadn’t been on the best of terms the last time you spoke. Just thinking back to that moment when he’d felt like he was on top of the world, completely in control, made him cringe. 

Then, you turned and smiled at him. “You know, if you really need to, you could always join me as a patient. It’d definitely make the days less boring.”

Namjoon knew you knew there was a change in his attitude, and rather than lording that over him, you simply welcomed him as you usually did.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” The words blurt out before he could stop them.

You shook your head, slightly amused. “What’s with you and Jimin these days? You don’t need to apologize for saving me. Unless you want to, and, well, that’s a completely separate manner--”

“No!” Namjoon lifted his hands up and waved them around. “I just-"

You smiled, entertained by the frantic side of the normally suave, composed teen. “Think nothing of it, Namjoon. You have nothing you need to apologize to me for.”

Your expression darkened slightly as you continued. “If anything, I should apologize for not trusting you all more.”

Namjoon’s lips quivered, desperately wanting to form a victorious smirk, but he settled for an understanding smile.

In the end, he’d been right.

As usual.

“Who remains close to you, who you decide to trust, that’s completely your decision. You should never have to apologize for it.” Namjoon said.

You smiled in acknowledgement, then furrowed your brows in confusion when Namjoon started to dig around in his bag.

“I heard we were gift giving this week.” He pulled out a beautiful, leather bound journal and fountain pen and carefully placed the items on your lap. 

“This is absolutely gorgeous. How did you know I like writing?” You smiled. 

Of course he knew. He knew everything about you.

“I didn’t,” he replied, shrugging with a small smile. “I like to write in journals as a form of catharsis, and thought you might want to try.”

“Thank you so much.” You lifted an arm up and gestured for a one armed hug, one that Namjoon happily accepted.

Clutching the journal to your chest, you gathered the courage to ask him the question that had been running around in your head the past week.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

“How did you guys find me in time?”

The elder clenched his jaw and shifted his gaze aside as if he couldn’t beat to direct his apparent anger and frustration toward you. 

“We heard from Jimin that Aemilia took you and interrogated the police commissioner about any of our private guard’s movements. He fessed and told us that Aemilia told him that I texted her, claiming that there was another soul in need of punishment.” 

Namjoon grit his teeth, vexation rolling off of him in waves as he practically hissed out his words. “He authorized members of our private force to move under her order in order to subdue you.”

Recounting the ridiculous lie that the redhead told her father, and the father’s idiotic tendency to believe her, made his blood hot.

“After we heard that, we rushed to all the places in the forest that the Augustus men might have taken you. Thankfully, we got to Lorne’s Ledge in time and Jimin was able to save you before you could fall off the edge.”

“Are you sure?” You said. “I could have sworn I stepped off...I thought I was a goner.”

Namjoon shook his head. “We definitely got there in time to save you. You sustained several head injuries, so I’d understand if you didn’t see Jimin or blacked out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering his response for several moments before nodding at his answer. 

There was no way you would ever be able to forget what happened that night.

You knew for a fact that your feet had left the ledge. 

But he was right, you did take several nasty hits from Byun and Lee.

You wanted to keep asking him questions, but the pained, forced look in his eye made you pause on that front.

Perhaps that projection you saw of your mother had actually been Jimin.

You wrung your hands together. 

“What matters now is that you’re safe and sound.” Namjoon gently placed his hand atop yours and gave it a supporting squeeze. “All you need to focus on is getting better. We definitely won’t let them get away with this.”

You nodded again, smiling slightly at Namjoon in thanks for his concern.

——————————————————————

Halfway across town, Aemilia Augustus paced around in her room, practically biting off her perfectly manicured nails in worry.

It had been seven days. 

Seven days of nothing.

Not a single word had come in from Byun or Lee.

When she arrived at school that first day and heard everyone talking about your absence, she felt pure and utter bliss. 

There was no joy like the joy she felt in that moment.

Such euphoria simply couldn’t be replaced.

The only moments that could possibly top it were her future engagement with Kim Namjoon, or the day she would take over her family business.

Because so many days went by without a single peep at your face, she thought her plan was working. 

She felt on top of the world.

But Byun and Lee were two of the most promising soldiers on the squad. There was no reason as to why they were taking so long to get back to her to confirm your measly little death.

As a result, she was starting to panic.

Of course, she had an emergency plan. 

She had no need for it, as there was no way her plan could go wrong, but she always had to be prepared, after all.

Just as she was about to take deep breaths to calm herself down, she jumped at the sound of pounding footsteps and yelps drifting into her room from downstairs.

She heard the annoying cry of her mother and father, and then the sound of several people talking.

A grim chill fell over her.

Unexpectedly, her plan had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

There wasn’t much time left now, as she could hear the footsteps get closer and closer.

To hell with her parents--their capture was inevitable.

Aemilia Augustus would not be captured like a criminal, not as long as she was alive and well.

Aemilia padded over to her bedroom door, shutting it closed as softly as possible and smacking the lights off.

She dove into her walk-in closet and squeezed herself as tightly as possible into a corner, a rack of evening gowns and day dresses covering her.

Every couple of minutes, a door would slam open and she listened, holding a hand over her mouth as the pounding feet searched every room on her floor.

It didn’t take them long to arrive at her room, and she shook as she heard them throw things around.

A rectangle of light shone into the room as someone opened the closet door and Aemilia stilled as though she were encased in ice.

It was silent for a long, dreadful moment. The officer turned their head this way and that, walking into the room and turning on the light to search.

From where Aemilia was hidden, there was no way they would be able to find her. She thanked Wylynne that she hadn’t taken up on her mother’s offer to hire a maid to clean her closet.

The officer turned away to leave and Aemilia cheered in her heart.

After the guards left the premises, she would collect as many valuables as possible from the house and run off to her family’s private home in another part of town. From there, she would plan what to do next.

Her plan wasn’t perfect, but she would be able to get away with it.

Or at least, she thought she would.

Just as the officer was about to close the door, a strong, invisible force yanked Aemilia out from her hiding spot and she came crashing down noisily from behind the evening gowns, taking a few with her.

The officer immediately turned around, beckoning his partner to get her. 

She hurriedly gripped a platform heel and attempted to plunge it in the man’s eye, but he caught her wrist and painfully twisted her arm behind her back.

The redhead screeched in fury and pain. His partner soon joined him, and they dragged her out into her room, each officer tightly holding on to one of her arms.

“What are you doing? Unhand me this instant!” She shrieked, writhing around in an attempt to escape. “Have you forgotten who you take orders from?!”

“No, but it seems as though you have.” 

She paused at the sound of that familiar voice.

Her beloved casually strode into the room in all of his glory, his head held high, that ever present cocky, amused smile that she loved so much on his face.

“Namjoon.” She whimpered. “Namjoon, they’re hurting me.”

The student body president kneeled down in front of her and gently took her chin in his hands.

Her eyes filled with tears and she stuck out her bottom lip, waiting for Namjoon to tell the men to let her go. They better anticipate the earful they were about to receive. How dare they treat their future queen this way?

Namjoon lovingly stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away her tear. She nuzzled her cheek into his hand, looking up at him with a pitiful gaze. He smiled at her.

Surely he would save her.

Aemilia closed her eyes, suppressing a victorious smile as she felt Namjoon pull his hand away from her face.

But rather than the sound of him barking orders, she was met with the sound of a harsh slap.

Her eyes flew open in shock.

Her face stung.

“Nam..joon...?” She whispered, stupefied.

The senior was sneering down at her, pulling a handkerchief out the square pocket of his jacket and wiping his hand on it.

“What disgusting thoughts you have,” the man spat, dropping the handkerchief in another subordinate’s hand. 

“Burn that.” He commanded.

Aemilia simply stared up at him in disbelief. 

Had he...hit her?

“Namjoon, why are you doing this?” Her voice trembled. “You’d never hit me, you’re my...we’re-”

“Nothing.” Namjoon interrupted with a disinterested gaze. “I am not your anything. I’ve never given you any inclination that could lead you to assume that I loved you, or liked you, or cared for you in the slightest.”

Aemilia dropped to her knees in incredulity. 

“That’s not true! You cared for me, I know you did! Ever since that (h/c) haired bitch appeared, you’ve turned away from me!” She screeched, her shrill voice piercing their ears. “I should’ve gotten rid of her sooner!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, all the air in Aemilia’s lungs disappeared. She heaved her chest, trying to breath, but found herself unable to.

He squatted down to face her.

“Let’s get one thing absolutely clear.” Namjoon spoke in a frighteningly low tone. “I never cared for you. You were nothing more than a useful little pawn in my game. A pawn who somehow tricked herself into believing she could become a queen.”

Her face turned redder and redder from anger, embarrassment, and the lack of oxygen.

“(Y/N) is more of a queen than you could ever be,” Namjoon stated, smiling at the memory of you sitting up in your hospital bed, grinning at him, the sun forming a halo behind your head. “She’s an angel. Our precious everything.”

He turned his gaze back to the creature before him. “She isn’t someone the likes of you can ever attempt to touch, much less harm or overthrow.”

Namjoon straightened, moving to walk towards the entrance to her room. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. After all, I wasn’t able to properly regulate my inferiors.”

Black dots swam at the edge of Aemilia’s vision. She kept her eyes locked on Namjoon, still praying that this was all a prank or a joke, and that he would comfort her by sweeping her up into his arms.

“You truly have no idea what’s going to happen to you, do you?” He chuckled with a mirthless smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix that soon enough.”

Finally, her body gave in and shut down from the lack of oxygen. The redhead flopped over on her side, Namjoon’s cruel glare burned into the backs of her eyes.

——————————————————————

On the morning of the seventh day, you took advantage of your solitude by pondering the events of this week and the rather complicated emotions that came with them. 

Despite their reputation and despite your fears, you had grown closer to the Kims over the past month. 

They never threatened or harmed you or the people you cared about. They had welcomed you into their lives with open arms. 

You had kept them at an arms length in an effort to protect yourself and your loved ones. But what had distancing yourself from them gained you?

Still, there was no way your method could be wrong. It was your livelihood, your path to survival in Ichabod. 

There were rules here, rules that couldn’t be broken. 

Yet the majority of those rules had been broken the moment you invited Jimin to sit with you at lunch.

Was it even possible that an alternative path to salvation freedom existed?

Had the Kims truly provided another way? 

Your mother went around the room collecting and packing up your things for you as Mana helped you change in the bathroom, making sure to be careful of your still-healing shoulder.

When they left to fetch your discharge papers, you sat at the edge of the hospital bed and deliberated what could potentially be one of the most important decisions of your life.——————————————————————

i am so, so, so sorry for taking longer than usual to post! college and midterm season caught up with me--i’ll try not to let assignments interfere with my writing schedule in the future ;-;-; thank you so much for sticking with me through the wait! the long awaited day has finally come! revenge has never been so sweet hehe. also, the way that i have no idea how to write fight scenes--pfft. i hope you all enjoy the chapter <33

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[welldonebeca]

In The Name of Love (I)

Summary: You were married off to Heinrich Zemo, 12th Baron of Zemo and a man filled with dangerous ambitions, at just 18, and became Queen at 19 after the death of both of your parents and your brother. Now, five years later, every day in your marriage is a ticking time bomb as your secret affair with James Buchanan Barnes – your chief of security – can be revealed at any moment to the press, and your husband plots to murder you. There’s no other choice. You have to kill him before he does it to you. It’s the only way. Rating: Explicit Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Heinrich Zemo x Reader WC: 1.5k words Warnings: Angst, darkfic, domestic violence, Royal AU, 1950s AU. 

Masterlist 

You didn’t look to your side when Heinrich entered your room, knowing pretty much what he was here to do.

“You can leave,” you brushed your hair back. “It’s not gonna happen.”

Your husband stopped, and you looked over your shoulder, finding him with his belt unbuckled and a hand midway through opening his pants.

“What, are you on your period?” he asked.

“No,” you put your brush down. “We both know it’s not going to work. I don’t want to waste my time.”

He just rolled his eyes.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he hissed. “Just lay down and raise your stupid dress, I’ll be quick.”

You didn’t move.

You’d married Heinrich six years ago, a bit over a year before the death of your parents and your brother, the tragedy that made you queen. He was a German Noble, already a Baron before your wedding was arranged by both parents and his – now-dead – mother, and was probably the biggest disappointment you’d ever been through.

You weren’t meant to be Queen: your father was quite young and your younger brother replaced you as the heir when he was born in your second year of life. You were, officially, the spare. A girl, destined to marry into nobility or another Royal family, with no further responsibility. That is, until the unfaithful day your parents and your  brother were involved in a car accident, which left you completely alone in the world and with the burden of ruling a country on your back at a very young age. 

Heinrich Zemo was the 12th Baron Zemo, descending from the Prussian Royal Family, and the only reason you’d even married him and not some other man was that he was the only one who could move into your country, so you’d stay close to your family.

What a big mistake.

“You can be as quick as you want,” you sighed. “It’s not like it’s going to make a difference.”

You needed children. At least two of them, to make sure your line would continue to rule the country.

Heinrich could you give you none.

It took your marriage only six months to become something miserable and just for show, and your ascension to the throne just made it worse: you only saw one another in official occasions and three days a month, during your fertile window, when he came to fuck you quickly and try to impregnate you.

You were done with it, and with him.

“So you’ve finally accepted that that frigid cunt of yours is good for nothing?” he snickered. “Took you long enough to realise you’re never going to give me a child. What a great queen you are, aren’t you, darling?”

Your blood boiled, but you only took a deep breath.

“I’m not the one with a problem here, Heinrich,” you answered simply. “Putting the blame on me isn’t going to help you climb any invisible ladder you created in your head to the throne.”

Your husband swallowed down under your eyes, lips pulling back in a disgusted face.

“Would you blame me?” he asked, playing the innocent part. “With someone like you commanding them, this stupid place is going to crumble in less than a decade.”

He was a Baron. A German and Prussian Baron, and no more than that. Not a Prince or a King, and god forbid he stopped reminding you of it.

“Is that all you have to say?” you asked, impatiently. “Because if that’s it, you can turn around and leave.”

“I’m here for my royal husband duties,” he said simply.

“Then you can go,” you said simply. “We both know the only reason we even do this is for procreating, and you’re as dry as a bone.”

“Me?” he asked. “And how do you even know that?”

You shrugged.

“Elizabeth told me,” you answered simply. “And Emily. Christine...” you listed.

His face became pale at your list. They were his lovers, his affairs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, are you sure?” you asked. “Because you should know they were all trying to get pregnant by you. And then there was Karin and… what’s her name? Mary Anne? Yeah, you never used any protection with them either.”

Your husband swallowed down, staring at you with his jaw clenched.

“I know about them,” you answered simply. “All of them, from the start. Enough women to justify legally requesting a divorce, it isn’t going to take more than six months to see myself free of you.”

He rubbed his hands down his shirt, growing more and more nervous.

“The church would never allow it.”

“Oh, they will,” you nodded. “Some of your lovers are ready to be interrogated as witnesses.”

It took a blink of your eyes for him to cross the room, and a single second for his fist to collide with your face, and the only reason you hadn’t been sent back a few steps was the way he was holding your arm.

It hurt, more than you were ever going to show him. Your cheekbone instantly started throbbing and aching, and you knew it would foster a bruise.

“And who is going to believe you or any of them?” he hissed. “The only proof of anything you have are your lies.”

You swallowed down, looking at where his big hand was wrapped around your arm.

Heinrich had plenty of moments of aggression: he broke furniture and things when you were fighting and used very colourful language to talk to you, but this… this was the first time he ever laid a hand on you.

“I made you Queen,” he whispered. “And I can easily turn the tables on you. Everyone knows you’re the one who is failing to get pregnant, not me.”

“Don’t you think this bruise on my face is going to be enough to tell them, to tell anyone, you really are?” you asked.

Your husband chuckled darkly.

“What do you mean?” he asked, absolutely cynical. “You stumbled and hit the doorknob.”

He released you with a push that sent you down to the floor, hitting your ass on the soft carpet, and fixed his pants, closing his belt and adjusting his shirt.

“I’ll take a trip,” he announced. “This place is souring my mood.”

Heinrich walked out of the room and blinked away your tears, still shocked by what had just happened, and you stood up slowly, brushing your hands down your sleeping dress to try and clean it from whatever could have dirtied it.

You picked up your phone, pressing it against your ear and swallowing down before dialling the security office.

“Send in my chief of security,” you requested in an almost whisper.

“Yes, your majesty.”

You sat down on the closest armchair, taking in deep breaths to try to control yourself.

You were done, simply done. Six years was more than enough, especially after his cheating. Everyone knew of it, and it was just time before it leaked to the press.

You’d be humiliated.

“Your majesty?” you heard from outside of your door.

“Come in.”

You looked to your side and were able to see James’ face changing slowly as he realised your state.

“Y/N,” he whispered.

You didn’t answer and watched slowly as he walked in your direction and knelt in front of you.

“What did he do?” he whispered.

You rubbed your eye, trying to keep yourself from crying.

“He punched me,” you finally answered. “And threw me on the floor.”

Bucky’s face contorted into anger, but you could see him covering it up before standing up and bringing up his phone to his ear.

“Please, bring in an ice pack for her majesty, she had an accident.”

It wasn’t even three minutes later before someone knocked on your door again, and Bucky pressed it against your cheek, just watching your face as you clenched your jaw.

“He should be messing with someone his own size,” he muttered.

You sighed.

“I told him that I knew,” you whispered.

James frowned, confused.

“Everything you know?”

You shook your head.

Heinrich had said he had made you Queen, and you knew that.

“About the women,” you corrected him. “And I told him about the divorce?”

He watched you silently.

“He doesn’t know I know it was him,” you whispered.

The death of your parents and your brother were initially seen as an accident – it was reported as an accident – but you knew better now. After investigations directed by Bucky himself – the only person you knew you had in this world – you had found out your husband had been directly involved with sabotaging their car and causing their deaths.

He made you Queen so he could be King, and then kill you.

James moved a hand to your face and brushed his thumb over your lips.

“What do you want to do?”

You swallowed down, unable to really answer, to tell him the truth.

“He won’t give me the divorce,” you whispered looking away. “I know it.”

Bucky shifted on his place, and raised his chin, looking at you with determination on his face.

“I’ll kill him,” he affirmed.

You turned to him with wide eyes, shocked by his words and feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

“I will,” he repeated. “I’m just waiting for you to tell me to do it.”

You swallowed down and breathing in, and nodded slowly.

“Please.”

. . .

Chapters 2, 3, 4 and 5 are already available on my Patreon. To read them before anyone else, subscribe! It’s only $3 a month, and it helps me a lot!

. . .

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[richmond-rex]

I’m currently listening to Anne Boleyn: 500 Years of Lies by Hayley Nolan on Audible, and I’m trying hard to like it because it has really good information discrediting some of the beliefs surrounding Anne; but I have to admit that it’s grating me to hear the author stating that the Tudors were “usurpers” and that they were preventing a “more rightful heir” from gaining the throne. I almost screamed in frustration when she blamed H8’s sociopathy on Margaret Beaufort and especially Henry VII, using that one source claiming that H7 once tried to kill H8 in a fit of rage as firm evidence of a miserable childhood (ignoring all evidence stating otherwise); because of course having an overprotective parent (which is all H7 was) is going to cause you to grow up with no conscience. Also is it true that H8 was given absolutely no training in monarchy and came to the throne completely uneducated in that regard, I find that incredibly hard to believe regarding H7.

Hello! First of all, there's so much to unpack here. I think we have to go step by step. A big disclaimer is that I have not read Nolan’s book, so I’m only considering what you told me here. Secondly, I will not be addressing any claims against Margaret Beaufort because, frankly, what did that woman ever do be accused of that — the same Margaret Beaufort who 'of marvayllous gentyleness she was unto all folks' , and who 'unkind she would be unto no creature'? Are we talking about the same Margaret? We know one of her old servants, Henry Parker, was talking about his 'godly mistress the Lady Margaret’ to her great-granddaughter Mary well into the mid-1500s, and we know the time Margaret reprimanded a dean in Christ's College for beating one of his pupils (crying ‘gently, gently!’). I don’t see how she could be considered the origin of anyone’s sociopathy, but I also dislike the term — antisocial personality disorder is a medical condition and I doubt we could ever diagnose Henry VIII with that or anyone else who died five hundred years ago for that matter. The rest of my answer is under the cut! 

Well, now for the rest: I wouldn't say all of the Tudors were usurpers. Henry VII very much was one, as he did unseat England's king at the time of his invasion though that hardly makes him worse than other 15th-century English kings (as I've talked here, Henry IV was a usurper, Edward IV was a usurper, Richard III was a usurper — hell, William the Conqueror had been a usurper four centuries earlier). None of Henry VII's successors would have been usurpers, though (unless we should say every English king after William the Conqueror was a usurper, I guess?). Especially if you consider that they were also the natural successors of the Yorkist line via their descent from Edward IV's eldest daughter and heir, Elizabeth of York. I have no idea who Nolan could be referring to as the 'more rightful heir': the de la Poles, the descendants of Edward IV's sister? The Poles, the descendants of Edward IV's brother? Even if you go by Yorkist descent alone (which not everyone in England regarded as the most legitimate), who would have had a better claim in England than Henry VIII, the son of Edward IV's surviving heir and the son of England's most recent conqueror, Henry VII?

As for Henry VIII's miserable childhood, I don’t think there is evidence of that. We know Henry was well-educated; his father made sure to appoint tutors who taught him in the arts, classics, music, dancing, discourse, courtiership and theological disputation. We also know that Henry VII was personally involved with his sons' education, whilst his wife Elizabeth was involved with their daughters'. It is true that Henry VIII was not initially prepared for kingship but once his brother Arthur had died his father began preparing him for his future office. In July 1504 Prince Henry officially moved into his father's household where it seems Henry VII tutored him personally in some subjects. In August of that same year, the Duke of Estrada, a Spanish ambassador, wrote that 'Formerly the King did not like to take the Prince of Wales with him, in order not to interrupt his studies [...] But it is not only from love that the King takes the Prince with him; he wishes to improve him. Certainly there could be no better school in the world than the society of such a father as Henry VII. He is so wise and so attentive to everything; nothing escapes his attention'. So you can see that Henry VIII was assisted and had at least five years to prepare for the office of kingship, which is more than Henry VII himself ever had.

Lastly, it's clear that Henry VII loved his son. The same ambassador, Duke Estrada, also said in his dispatch: 'It is quite wonderful how much the King likes the Prince of Wales'. There are several entries in Henry VII's privy purse accounts describing items and stuff he bought to his younger son, always referring to him as 'My Lord Harry'. For all we know, Henry VII saw much more of his second son than he ever saw of Prince Arthur who lived in Ludlow, away from court. There is that anecdote about the time Henry VII knighted Prince Henry when he was only three years old: during the ceremony the king picked up his young son and placed him on a table for all to see — a gesture possibly made out of love, fondness, and/or delight in his youngest, though we can only speculate. Henry VII seems to have been determined not to expose his remaining son to danger in the same way that Arthur had been, and some of his more overprotective measures (like the setting of the Prince's apartments, accessible only by way of his own) can be understood as born out of paternal concern, all things considered. The rumours that the Calais garrison was not willing to crown Prince Henry in the event of his death were certainly of great concern to Henry VII.

To sum up, there is evidence that Henry VII did love and care for his son Henry. No doubt their relationship may have been strained at times thanks to Henry VII’s overprotective measures, but it’s also true the king let his son shine on many occasions in his place, denoting both affection and trust. Henry Pole's claim, made in 1538, that the king ‘had no affection nor fancy unto’ his heir should be seen in its proper context: one in which his brother, Reginal Pole, was involved in an ideological campaign against Henry VIII — the message was that not even Henry VIII's own father had loved him. I cannot say if Henry Pole actually said those words (anyone with more expertise please feel free to correct me) or if those were brought up as charges against him, but they do belong in the realm of (real or invented) seditious language. I tried to find the claim that Henry VII once tried to kill his son over a fit of rage in the dispatches sent by Fuensalida (allegedly the one who made that claim according to Hutchinson’s Young Henry), but the only thing I could find was something akin to court gossip, saying Henry VII treated everyone badly for a time (including his son) and spent three hours every night with his eyes closed but not sleeping...... which is?? 

(Here I should comment that Fuensalida not only disliked Henry VII but he was also several times denied access to the king and the Prince of Wales on account of what the English most likely considered to be his rude behaviour. He is also the one who said the Prince was kept closeted away like a girl, not realising that he was specifically denied access to the Prince — perhaps not without reason, seeing how Ferdinand had instructed him in winning the Prince over to their cause. Fuensalida was, of course, only serving the interests of his king, but his skills in diplomacy are somewhat unusual. Even Catherine of Aragon would later complain about Fuensalida’s behaviour). 

In any case, I cannot speak about Nolan’s book as I have not read it but I wouldn’t be surprised if the author makes some unsubstantiated claims, considering the book was not peer-reviewed. That’s exactly how many pop history books work and why it’s hard to hold them to high standards. I hope this answer is not a big rambling mess, but really there were so many things to address, I didn’t even know where to begin. Thanks for the ask, anon! 🌹x

[nanshe-of-nina]

Wizarding Russian Empire and USSR || GIF Sets: The four Kostova sisters

AVDOTYA, the eldest, gave the impression of being the least damaged of his children, though perhaps she was just better at hiding it. Grounded, logical, patient, and calm, she met with her father’s approval because she was emotionally stable, resilient, responsible, and not given to flights of fancy. I know it’s often been said that she was in love with the doomed Levchenko’s also doomed son, massacred by Mavka in 1925, but I don’t know whether this story is true, as it happened when I was still a child and I never dared to ask her for the truth.

In any case, she never did marry and instead becoming a surrogate mother to her half-sisters and their children and her brother’s two daughters. Dunya was also the only of her siblings brave enough to stand up to her father on occasion, which her brother and half-sisters never dared to do.

YULIYA, who was my age, was the most complicated. She could be vain and a terrible bully, but she was also charming, quick-witted, and fun-loving. I liked her terribly from the first time I met her at school and desperately wanted her as a friend and I wasn’t the only one. She’s known now mostly from having slept her way through most of male population of the USSR, but she was not the empty-headed strumpet she’s often dismissed as nowadays. Yulya loved books, music, and poetry, and she was an excellent student when she wanted to be.

Her many lovers came from her intense neediness and loneliness and also her often contrary desires. Her first love, as everyone knows, was Gektor Nestorovich, son of her father’s ally turned enemy. They always struck me as a odd pairing, since I thought him shy and awkward and as far from the cunning, self-seeking seducer her father imagined him as, as one can get. It may well have been a childish infatuation that wouldn’t have lasted, but Kostov, accustomed to seeing conspiracy in everything, say it as further proof of Voinov and Krupina’s treachery. In 1934, to try to regain her father’s favor, she married Vadim Rodionovich, the son of her father’s new Favourite, and they proceeded to make each other miserable. He was as dull, priggish, pretentious, cold, and unimaginative as his irritating father and they shared no hobbies or interests and, so they made a terrible match. Yulya’s first extramarital lover was Yenokh Ilyich, son of the Zhnets Yablochkova, and as she told me years later, it had begun when she’d had a sobbing meltdown in front of him and he tried to comfort her.

After Gornostaev’s death, Yulya and Vadim divorced, but she found an even worse match for herself when she remarried to Zinovy Minosovich, nephew of the Auror, Morozenko. They were too alike and their household would have fallen apart within days if they didn’t have Domovoy to do all the household tasks. Rather than actually trying to help his daughter or accepting that he had caused some of her problems, Kostov instead found it easier to shift the blame: to her mother’s sisters, Dragomira and Svetoslava; her cousin, Vlasta Ilyinichna; her many lovers; her friends, Marya Svarogovona and Yanina Velizariyevna; even to Marya’s mother, Margarita Lvovna, all of whom he had arrested. Neither Marya nor Yanina blamed her for this, however, and after returning from exile, they tried to nurse Yulechka on her deathbed. That alone, I think, speaks volumes about her character.

ZOYA, four years younger than Yulya and myself, was shy, chubby, and prone to tears and fits of giggles. She had a baby face, like her mother, but her father’s dark coloring and her smile was so sweet and genuine. She idolized Yulya, but Yulya thought she was embarrassing and annoying and constantly rejected Zosya’s attempts to join in play. Her sweet nature made her a great favorite among her father’s satraps: Mironov and Vashadze in particular both doted on her.

When I first met her, in 1931, she was perhaps thirteen and while shy, sometimes brimmed with happiness. By the time my stepmother was transferred to Lysaya Gora, however, much of the light and joy had gone out her. She took her mother’s death very hard, but she rebounded a bit after bounding with her father’s nephew, Vardan. They married in 1935, but two years later, her father had her husband and his parents (his former brother and sister-in-law) both arrested on charges of espionage. Father and son were both executed in 1941 and they say Rusudan died of shock and grief after being informed of this.

Understandably, Zosya often avoided her father’s company after this. A weaker woman might have died of a broken heart, but she devoted herself to raising her little son. She held out hope for many years that Vardan might still be alive in one of the camps and I’m not sure when she gave up on this hope.

ARIADNA, the youngest of the brood, was, to me, the most enigmatic. She had straight and very heavy brows and dark eyes and hair and was, on the surface, logical, practical, hardworking, and a perfectionist. The least flamboyant of her sisters, she became an Unspeakable on her own merits, not nepotism, something she was very proud of.

Rada also loved sports and even married a Quidditch player, Arkhimed Germesovich, without her father’s approval. He refused to ever meet his son-in-law, but the fact that Arikhmed was never arrested means he was treated relatively well, at least comparatively speaking.

— excerpt from the memoirs of Valentina Romanovna Vyalitsyna (1914 – 1977), stepdaughter of Nane Aslanyan. 

[sif-the-tsunami]

When you fall apart

But this ain’t my mama’s broken heart. 

Warnings: Yes, all of them. No smut all angst. and no promise of a happy ending. gallows humor, pregnancy loss, infidelity, self medication, spicy language. 

Summary: Sy is a cheating bastard and his wife has had enough. 

Pairing: Syverson, now a Colonel and his long suffering wife Josephine. (marriage is great guys, I promise.)

Just over 3,300 words.

This might not have been what you were expecting @oddsnendsfanfics​

My mother was a genuine Southern debutante, I grew up with pictures of her on the walls with her gorgeous smile and pretty pearl necklaces. Blonde hair and green eyed, she was the most beautiful little slice of American apple pie. Her daddy was the ‘Old Money’ type, and she was his finest accomplishment, she looked, behaved, spoke perfectly. Never once have I heard that woman raise her voice to a man. Hell, I never heard her pass gas in front of anyone for that matter. She is the picture of privilege, she went from her daddy’s house to her sorority house to her husband’s house. Some how, even though she smokes a pack a day, she still looks like she could pass for being forty instead of almost sixty. The last time we saw each other, my friends told me they didn’t know I had an older sister.

Mama married a gentleman who had the good sense to enlist in the military to help support the lifestyle she demanded he provide for her. He was never around much but he gave her a nice house with a lovely front yard, and two little perfect children. He was another one of the old Southern types, I don’t think he ever outright said “I love you, Josephine,” or “I’m proud of you, girl.” Looking back, I don’t think anyone ever did that for him either, so he probably didn’t know how to tell that to me or my brother Theodore. I’m almost sure that he and Mama loved each other once upon a time. Daddy worked hard, he broke his body serving his country, and when he couldn’t do that anymore he broke his own heart trying to please Mama. She must have been disappointed in how her life turned out. She might have had dreams once, when she was younger. I’m pretty sure the last of them were crushed when Daddy died balls deep in the woman who used to perm my Mama’s hair.

Mama played the grieving widow perfectly, not a single person knew that they had been miserable for years. She has worn black out in public ever since. I think the only thing that has really changed is that she has started day drinking now because she’s lonely. I don’t blame her really. She pushed us really hard to be as perfect outwardly as she is, so it is safe to say that she is really disappointed in your truly.

You might be wondering why this all matters, dear reader. However, I find that it is important for you to know this when I tell you I’m remembering this sitting here in the county sheriff’s office, waiting on my Mama to come pick me up because my probably soon to be ex-husband and I got into screaming match, and I may have drunkenly thrown my bottle of tequila at my probably soon to be ex-husband’s head. The details are a little fuzzy at the moment.

“Josephine Syverson, your mother is here to pick you up.” The Sheriff’s deputy starts in his slow drawl, “Now don’t you go pickin’ no fights with your husband. You’re lucky he ain’t pressing charges. Go sleep it off now, Ma’am. I’m sure you two kids will work it out.”

I wait until he can’t see my face to roll my eyes. And low and behold, there she is, my Mama drove four hours to come and pick me up. She’s in a black vintage driving coat, and her hair is covered by a dark gray satin bonnet. It doesn’t matter that it is half past midnight, she is still the beauty queen she has always been. I drank enough Jose Cuervo tonight that my head is still swimming, but I walk with the grace and dignity she taught me.

“Oh my Lord, Josie, what have you done to yourself?” She asks. “Thank you, officers, I’ll get her back on track.”

We make our way out to the car and Mama unlocks the door for me. I slide in and as soon as my butt hits the leather of her seats, I start crying all over again. She gives me the packet of tissues she keeps in her purse then hands a little make-up bag.

“So, what was is this time, Josie, I swear to Lord Jesus that if he laid a hand on you, your brother and I will bury him in the back yard.” She says turning on her Cadillac. “Get cleaned up, you are coming home with me. Maybe James will be smart enough to figure out where you went.”

“Mama?” Who was this woman? She never talks like this.

“Come on, your mama isn’t as dumb as she looks. Although he evidently is.” She lights up a cigarette and offers me one.

“I quit when we started trying… Even after… well… everything, I didn’t start back up.”

She pats my leg. I unzip the bag to find makeup wipes, mascara, face powder and some brick red lipstick. We might not get along all the time but she is a damn life saver. I have black rivers of my own eyeliner and mascara from earlier today streaking my face. I clean myself up as much as I can and then reapply some make-up. “There, now that you are looking better, tell me what happened...”

“Where do you want me to start? I swear this started after his first deployment.”

“Okay, Josie, start there.”

James Syverson is an Army Ranger, I met him after he finished officers school. Because of the nature of military special forces, they deploy more often than most jobs in the military. I understand that they are under a lot of pressure during these deployments and because he is in a position in leadership I opted to give him as much room as he needed. The other officer’s wives informed me that I needed to recalibrate my expectations of what could happen. They warned me that what happens on deployment shouldn’t be held against him when he gets home. And I didn’t, until a girl barely old enough to visit a bar came up to my door asking for my husband with a hand on her belly. She was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I just looked up Syverson in the phone book, and I didn’t know he was married.”

“Is it his?”

“Ma’am?”

“I can see that you are pregnant. Is. It. His?”

“I… I don’t know…” She said quietly.

“He is still over there. Do not come here again unless you are requesting a paternity test.” And I slammed the door shut. She did come back for the test results when he came home. Turned out that the baby wasn’t his. Small favors, right?

I never faulted the women who fell in love with him. I knew how special he could make them feel, its how I fell in love with him in the first place. After everything he’s put me through it almost doesn’t matter when it is just the two of us. All I have ever wanted was for it to be just the two of us again, but I don’t know think I can wait for him to retire.

“How many times do you think he’s done it?”

“At least once a deployment. The most recent one saw us at the movies last night. He was holding my hand like nothing had ever happened. When he was coming back from the concession stand, a little redhead stopped him and asked who he was here with. When she saw me, she looked like she saw a ghost. He came back up, handed me my pop, kissed my cheek and wrapped his arm around me. He said ‘I promise you, it is not what it looks like.’ but the bitch and her friend kept looking over their shoulders to peek at us. I saw her texting someone and then his phone vibrated, but he didn’t look at his phone until I wasn’t with him.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” She lit up again. “And you’ve just been sitting on this, the entire time?”

“Yeah, I learned from the best, Mama. I didn’t want to let you down. You taught me to never let them see me cry.”

“Oh, my baby girl...”

The rest of the night at the movies, I kept it to myself, I’ve had enough. The boiling, seething hatred I was feeling for both of them. I hate that they are always younger than me. I hate that it always makes me like I’m not enough. When I woke up this morning had a beer in the shower. I always save the last one for him, so taking the last one was a big “fuck you” to him. He tried to climb in with me until he saw me drinking in the shower.

“Woman, what are you doing?” He asked. Like he wasn’t the one who introduced me to the idea of a shower beer.

“I’m going to keep drinking ‘til my heart stops hurting, Sy. I don’t know what else to do. But whatever it is that we keep doing, I can’t keep it up anymore. Get out.” I have never denied him, no matter what he wanted. And up until this morning, I had been an amazing wife to him. In the fifteen years of marriage, he has only had to do his own laundry when he was away from home. And even then, he probable conned someone into doing it for him. I have lost almost every friend I have made from relocating so often. I have started and stopped working on my Master’s degree more times than I can count. And now here I am, mid-thirties with none of my own goals accomplished to show for all of the work I have done over the years. If I had opened my mouth, even once, about his indiscretions, he never would have made it to Colonel. Not once have I complained.

After I dried my body off, I walked into the kitchen, naked as the day I was born and grabbed my trusty kitchen sheers. I needed a change. He paused the game he was playing long enough to watch me walk past him with my scissors and the bottle of margaritas.

“Jo, it’s nine in the morning. Being a little dramatic, aren’t we? We going to church today?”

“Why, James? You’ve been yelling ‘Oh my god,’ between some whore’s legs fairly regularly, I’m sure he knows you are a big fan.” I walked away before he could reply, locking the door behind me to our bedroom. He pounded on the door a few times but got the hint that I was not in the mood to be talked to when I turned up Chris LeDoux as loud as I could play it. Then I went to go give myself bangs.

When the music fades, the house is silent. No video games, no football, nothing. I continue to drink from my bottle and the world becomes a little more tolerable. Now, I am not a heavy drinker. Sy teases me all the time about how cheap of a date I am.

“Josephine!” He snaps at me in his soldier voice and I drop the margaritas.

“Jesus fuck, Sy, why you gotta scare me like that.”

“Oh, you are the one getting scared, woman, I have never seen you act like this before.”

“That’s because you ain’t here every time one of your indiscretions comes knocking on the door of my house. Never once have I expected sainthood from you, James, I learned better after your first deployment,” he won’t look me in the eye, either he’s ashamed of what he’s been doing or he is going to punch a whole in the wall tonight. “You would have seen this if you had been around after my daddy died. This is your wife, Syverson, she goes a little crazy from time to time.

“You know how hard I tried to come home for that, that is not fair Josephine.”

“I’m sure you did try. I wish you would try a little harder when it comes to picking out these dumb sluts who think that you are just going to run away from home as soon as you come back from the sandbox. I have received notes on my car windshield telling me that you were going to leave me for them. How you loved them and you were just suffering with me. That I’m hateful, and spiteful, and they could treat you so much better then I ever could. What have you been telling these girls, James, for them to think I am some kind of monster? Haven’t I been a good wife to you? What did I do to you to make you hate me this much?”

“I had no idea that they were doing that. I don’t hate you, baby. You have been a better wife than I probably could have ever deserved. Is that what you want to hear? I know I’m a rotten bastard. How long have you been holding this in, Josie?” His face darkens, I can see all the rage boiling up in him too.

“Don’t you call me that name, you son of a bitch.” I spit at him.

“How long?”

“Since Cassandra came up holding her belly, waiting to tell you that she made you a daddy. Too bad it wasn’t the first time, or I actually might have been worried that you’d leave. I hadn’t even stopped bleeding yet before she tried to take you.” I snarled back at him. And he face drops. Twelve years ago, we tried. I was seven months pregnant when I lost our son. Sy’s squad was wiped out after a night of heavy combat. He barely made it out alive himself. I got a phone call about his injuries and I must have made a deal with the devil himself. I would put up with the womanizing, the long distance, the heartache, just please have him come up to me. I would give anything to save him, I had thought. An hour after I got the call that he had woken up and was safely on a ship in the Mediterranean sea, I started to go into early labor.

“Oh, fuck me. That long?” He whispers. He rubs his face, the stubble was getting long, unless he was out in the field, he kept himself within regulations. He reached out to hold me but I shrug off his touch. He walked away from me, thinking that maybe he might let me calm down and we would go back to being a picture perfect couple again. He could just do whatever he wanted and I will grin and bare it.

I cleaned up the mess I made then went back to the bedroom to put on something on me other than shame. We gave each other space until the evening came around. He came in to ask if I had any plans for dinner. Wrong question, buddy. I walked to the kitchen in my tight black yoga pants and a tank top, went to the liquor cabinet, grabbed my favorite bottle of tequila and took three long gulps.

“That’s my plan, worry about yourself.”

“You haven’t had any real food today, you need to eat something.”

“Eat my ass, Colonel.” With that he pins me to the wall, the room spins around me and I start thrashing against him. He’s got probably 100lbs on me and more combative training than I can remember, so as you can well imagine this is going super great for me. I stop long enough to see the tears forming in his eyes. “Was there ever anything special between us, did you keep any part of yourself just for me?”

“Josephine, you are the only woman I have ever loved. I never even implied that I had any feelings towards them. They knew from the beginning it was simply recreational. Jo, you know you are my best friend.”

“Then why do you keep hurting me? Why am I not enough, Sy? Why do they keep getting you at your best, and I have to put all of your broken pieces back together again when you finally do come home.” Remember every time he woke up screaming the names of his fallen friends. When we have to leave BBQ’s early on the 4th of July because the fireworks remind him of mortar shells.

“You are enough. You are more than enough. I couldn’t have made it this far without you. It has never been anything other than stress relief with them.” The first tear rolls down his cheek. “I love you, Pussycat, now please lets get some food in you. Are you going to be good?”

“Haven’t I always been good. Been good, but not good enough.” I whine and slide down the wall once his hands are off of me. Good lord, where the hell is my dignity. 

He lets me go gently and leaves to make me a peanut butter sandwich. While his back is turned, I grab the bottle one more time and take another long swig. This is where the rest of my night is very fuzzy until I came to in the back of the squad car.

He evidently tried to take the bottle from me, I threw it at him, it went wide and smashed against the wall. He took me to the ground, just tried to keep me from hurting either of us and I screamed at him every vile thing I could think of until the sheriff showed up. They tried to take him in, seeing that I was a sobbing mess on the floor. I told them I tried to hurt him, so they handcuffed me and took me in. Before they drove off, James brought a sweater and my purse out for me. I watched a couple of nosy housewives standing at the end of their drive ways. I’m pretty sure I flipped them the bird and they looked at me with disgust.

Now I’m sitting here, in Mama’s Cadillac, licking my wounds.

“Why in the name of God have you not told me about any of this?” Mama asks, this is now her sixth cigarette. I think she’s trying not to turn the car around.

“I thought you would have told me to get over myself and save face.” I say as we pull to her house.

“No, baby girl, I wouldn’t have. No one, especially not my daughter, deserves to be treated like that. Ooo I never liked the boy. Your daddy used to say that cowboy was all hat and no cattle. Let’s get some sleep, Princess. We will go get your stuff in the morning.”

I make my way to my childhood bedroom and collapse down on the bed. Before I close my eyes for the night, I finally check my phone. He had been blowing up my text messages.

I realize that I have never apologized to you about my short comings. But I swear to you, I will get out of the army if you want me to. We can move anywhere you want to, we can start over, just the two of us. I’m so sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry that you kept this all from me. I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t love you. These where from six hours ago.

I don’t know when you will get your phone back, I love you. This was from before my mom collected me.

They told me you have been released from custody but didn’t say to who. Who ever picked you up asked them not to tell me. Are you safe?

I love you. Please. Let me know where you are, I’ll come get you. I hope that you are just ignoring me because you are asleep.

I reply to him with a simple Mama picked me up. Get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.

No ‘I love you’ from me tonight although it killed me not to tell him. Tomorrow, I will figure out if what we have can be saved. But that is tomorrow Josie’s problem.

[hetalia-reacts]

Can I request platonic hc’s for America, Japan and Russia with a little brother?

Yes uwu I love platonic hc’s so much especially family related ones it’s just so wholesome also this was so easy to write since I have a little brother of my own

America

Alfred promises their little brother the world and all the stars in the sky

He’s so happy to be a big brother

I see a lot of headcanons say he’s childish and hates responsibility, but honestly I feel like he doesn’t hate it but it makes him wary and scared since he is still really young for a country and he’s scared to mess up

So he’s scared of having to be responsible for his younger brother, but he’s only scared because he doesn’t want to mess them up or disappoint them

Alfred is terrified of having a strained relationship with his younger brother like he has with England

This may lead to him being really lax and kind of a push over at the start

Once he gets into the swing of things and maybe reads some of those parenting/becoming a big brother help books he starts to buckle down and get more serious

Alfred keeps his fun loving and child-like personality all throughout

Him having a younger brother will never change that

If anything having a younger brother encourages Alfred to act like a kid

Constantly rough housing and wrestling

Plays catch with them a lot, and maybe even tried to teach them some sports

Of course makes sure that his younger brother meets his twin, Canada, how could he not have his own 2 brothers meet each other

Alfred may be a little hesitant at letting his little brother meet England

He’s kinda scared England may try to take him away or that his little brother might think England is more dependable than he is

Of course that doesn’t happen and honestly England’s really happy and honored Alfred came over to have him meet his little brother

Depending on how old his little brother is might tuck him in at night úwù and tell him stories of his heroic past so they go to sleep

Heck even if his little brother isn’t super young definitely stops by their room every night to say good night and sweet dreams

It’s just how Alfred is

Wants to play video games with them

Tries to let them win some but his competitive nature makes that hard to do

Often suggests playing coop games so he doesn’t hurt his little brothers feelings

Always very concerned for his little brother

Are they sick? Injured? Heart broken? Who does he have to hurt to avenge his little brother?

Annoys the hell of his brother

This is completely on purpose and an everyday occasion

Does that “I’m not touching you” thing with an annoying look on his face

He loves his little brother but that doesn’t mean he gets special treatment, not like that anyways

100% buys his little brother everything he wants

Alfred likes to spoil and he can’t deny such a cute kid like his little brother

Russia

Ivan would cry tears of joy at having another sibling and to finally have a brother at that

He has nothing against his sisters…for the most part…but it gets lonely being the only guy ya know?

He treats his little brother like a prince at times but makes sure he knows discipline and hard work

Doesn’t want his brother to grow up a slacker but doesn’t want him growing up like he did

Another one that would buy his little brother anything they wanted

Ivan doesn’t want his little brother to meet his big sisters

It takes him a long time to let him even meet Ukraine

Ukraine loves her new little brother and wants to see him more

Hell would have to freeze over before Ivan willingly let’s his little brother meet Belarus

He’s terrified of what may happen if she meets him

Honestly the meeting didn’t go bad at all, if you count her adding her new little brother to her viciously protect list as not bad

It’s a little scary but at least she likes him ^^”

Ivan is very scared of messing his little brother up

He knows he’s not the stablest, knows he’s got a lot of scary rumors about him, but he hopes his little brother doesn’t grow up hating him and wants to stay close with him

He tries his hardest to make his little brothers life perfect

Doesn’t matter how old his little brother is he insists on tucking him and saying good night to him

If his brother is really young might sing or read them a bed time story

Knits them a scarf that looks like his

Honestly might find them a wardrobe that is similar to his

If his little brother were to ever say they admire him or want to be like him when they get older Ivan has a moment of awe and then a moment of panic

Like thank you but please reconsider yes? ^J^”

Really touched though

Is someone ever hurt his little brother Ivan would become really scary

Doesn’t matter if they hurt his brother emotionally or physically, they are going to pay

And Belarus is backing Ivan up on this one, maybe even Ukraine too

Always worried his brother is cold

Will wake up in a cold sweat at 2 am to rush to his brothers room to make sure he’s covered and his room is warm

Will not let his brother leave without a mountain of clothes on

Ivan just wouldn’t be able to take it if they got sick and felt miserable because of his country’s coldness

Loves to just hug his little brother and reassure him that he’ll always be there to protect him

He’s not sure if that’s weird to do but he just needs his little brother to know he’ll always be there to save him if he needs it

Japan

Kiku is conflicted with having a little brother

On one hand he’s happy to have someone to take care of and pass on his knowledge to

On the other hand he’s scared the relationship is going to go bad like it did with China or South Korea

He is really happy though to have a little brother

Is really touchy with them which shocks a lot of people

Kiku can easily hug, comfort, and live with his little brother

Even if his little brother is the complete opposite of him and is full of energy and loud

Kiku blames it on being related but even then he knows that’s kinda bs since all of his other family members (blood related or not) can’t do what his little brother can

Kiku is also hesitant on letting the rest of Asia meet his little brother

He likely starts easy with Taiwan and Vietnam, they’re likable and they end up loving his little brother to death

But when it comes to China and South Korea he isn’t sure where to start

He lets his little brother meet South Korea first, no matter his little brothers age he feels him and South Korea are closer in age anyways and will get along

It’s a messy meeting but it seems like his little brother and South Korea got along well

Meeting China wasn’t as easy, there’s a huge age gap and honestly Kiku is terrified China is going to be rude

He would relent and finally have the both of them meet but Kiku is ready to dash at any moment

The meeting is really formal and honestly probably scared the heck out of his little brother

Kiku does not easily relent to his little brother’s wants

Strong believer of you’ve got to earn it

Will teach his little brother discipline and respect early on

He cant tolerate having his own flesh and blood being a brat or causing trouble for others

Never really gets angry at his brother though and likely always takes his side as long as his little brother isn’t notorious for lying

No matter the age Kiku would want to say good night to his little brother every night, but his little brother would have to be really young to be able to convince him to sing or tell them a bed time story

It’s just not his style and he has a bad habit of telling scary folklore stories that aren’t meant for children

Literally drags his little brother to every festival and celebration

Kiku just gets really excited about his country’s celebrations and now he has someone he wants to show them to and teach them about

Plus he really wants his little brother to have fun since he knows he can be a little boring at times

He tries to get out there more so his little brother can see the world and have fun, but he still acts like an old man at times lmao

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

- Chapter 5 -

“Wen Chao is missing again,” Wen Ning said, and reached a hand up so that he could bite his nails.  

Nie Mingjue caught his hand and brought it back down again. “Missing again? What do you mean?”

“He’s been going missing,” Wen Ning explained. “Right before classes, or training, or – or dinner. We make excuses or find him before it becomes a problem, but he’s getting better at hiding. And eventually…”

Eventually, one of the teachers would tell Wen Ruohan.

Or worse, Wen Chao would miss a dinner, and it would be one of the dinners Wen Ruohan attended. The consequences of that would be unthinkable.

“Has he explained the reason?” Nie Mingjue asked, frowning when Wen Ning shook his head. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Wen Ning gave him a look that suggested that the broken bones might have something to do with it. Even though there was only one that actually broke.

“I’ll go talk to him.”

“We don’t even know where he is.”

Nie Mingjue did not let that stop him. He was mostly able to walk by now, anyway, and it didn’t take long for him to track Wen Chao down to one of his favorite places to go hide – one of the unused rooms in the family quarters, so long abandoned that there was dust over every surface. There were women’s things scattered all over the place, and Nie Mingjue suspected that the room had once belonged to Wen Chao’s mother.

“A-Chao?” he called, his voice low.

There was a strangled sob, and Wen Chao appeared from behind the bed, his eyes red. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he scolded. “What are you doing here? Go back, go back.”

“A-Chao, why have you been hiding away?” Nie Mingjue asked, sitting down on the bed instead. “You haven’t even come to visit me.”

Wen Chao’s lower lip trembled. He was only a little boy, in the end – only ten years old. “I don’t want you to get hurt anymore.”

“What’s me getting hurt have to do with you?” Nie Mingjue said, puzzled as always. How did these Qishan Wen people think, with loops and layers and circles turning in on themselves? “You didn’t do it.”

“I’m stupid,” Wen Chao said. His voice was small and pained. “If I’d been smart enough to play along, pretend you were talking about someone else, the way Huaisang-xiong and A-Qing did…”

“The only one to blame for me saying stupid things is myself,” NIe Mingjue said firmly. “And the only person to blame for hurting me for saying them is Sect Leader Wen. And I wouldn’t have thought to come up with a cover story, either – are you saying I’m stupid?”

Wen Chao sniffed. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re probably right,” Nie Mingjue acknowledged, and patted the bed next to him. Wen Chao flung himself forward, curling up into Nie Mingjue’s arms as if he’d been missing them – he probably had been, too, the little fool. “But neither of us are going to get less stupid if we keep missing classes. So let’s try not to, okay?”

“Okay,” Wen Chao said, and rubbed his head against Nie Mingjue’s chest. “Nie-ge?”

“Mm?”

“I wish you were my big brother instead of Huaisang-xiong’s.”

Nie Mingjue fought a smile. “I appreciate that,” he said. “Have you considered the possibility of me being a big brother to both of you? It’s not necessarily one or the other.”

Wen Chao’s arms tightened around him. “Maybe I want you to myself.”

“Maybe you need to learn to share.”

Wen Chao snickered. A little wetly, but still.

-

Wen Xu and Wen Chao had the misfortune of being born relatively close together in the year. That meant that there was always a single party, nominally held in their honor, that invariably turned into a political event, with all the subsidiary sects flocking to the Nightless City to pay their respects to Wen Ruohan. The sect leaders brought their children along, particularly if they had one around Wen Chao’s age, but that was just a cover; their presence was a homage to the dominant power to which they paid allegiance, the party in no way about either of the two heirs, and that was just as Wen Ruohan liked it.  

The other Great Sects usually sent gifts but did not attend – Nie Mingjue certainly had never gone – but this year the Lan sect broke custom and sent a delegation, with the stated purpose of presenting Wen Chao with an invitation to go take classes at the Cloud Recesses in view of his exceptional performance at the discussion conference.

“Exceptional performance,” Nie Mingjue mouthed at Wen Chao, who turned bright red.

The invitation was in fact issued, but it was probably more accurate to surmise that what the Lan sect really wanted was to get another look at the two Nie heirs and assure themselves of their continued health. Still, Nie Mingjue thought he had a good enough read on Lan Qiren’s personality to conclude that his old teacher wouldn’t affirmatively invite someone he didn’t think had potential, not even for ulterior motives. His reputation as a teacher of any type of student was famous throughout the cultivation world, and being invited to his lectures – as opposed to sending your children there on the basis of a political arrangement, as many sects did – was considered to be a great honor. Even Nie Mingjue had attended on the strength of his family, not himself.

As a result, the invitation was a compliment, and Wen Ruohan liked compliments. The Lan sect delegates were of course invited to stay at the party, and the visiting child – Lan Wangji, who at a year older than Nie Huaisang was a year younger than Wen Chao and thereby a more reasonable a guest to send than Lan Xichen would have been – was sent to mill around with them.

He looked miserable.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t really blame him, especially given how Lan Xichen had once spoken to him at length about how little Lan Wangji liked parties like this. Unable to watch his suffering, he asked Nie Huaisang in an undertone to go distract him a little, maybe find him a quiet place to stay.

After a while, Nie Huaisang returned to his side, Lan Wangji now in tow, and Nie Mingjue frowned at them. He hadn’t meant for Nie Huaisang to bring Lan Wangji here, since Nie Mingjue was supposed to be keeping his head down and avoiding people – Wen Ruohan hadn’t said anything explicit on the subject, but they all knew better than to risk embarrassing him in front of his guests – but he supposed there was nothing for it now.

“Lan Wangji,” he greeted, forgoing the usual intimacy of addressing him only by his courtesy name – he had done so when he was Lan Xichen’s friend, which he thought he still was, but just because Lan Xichen would overlook his current situation did not mean that others would, and Lan Wangji loved rules more than most. “You look well.”

It was a bit of a lie. Lan Wangji was ashen-faced, his fingers trembling a little even as he hid them in his sleeves. It seemed like a bit of an overreaction to the party, unless he suffered from a more severe form of social anxiety than Nie Mingjue had anticipated based on Lan Xichen’s descriptions.

“And you look terrible, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, his voice a little sharp, more poisonous than his normal cheerfulness. “You’re more colorful than a rainbow.”

Nie Mingjue’s bruises were indeed at that unfortunate stage, and there were enough on his face and hands that it was difficult to conceal them for very long, even with powder. There was a reason he’d gone out only briefly to greet people – acting as proof of life – before retiring to the back of the room.

“Yes, well,” he said, shaking his head and giving Nie Huaisang a stern look. He didn’t want to air out their business in front of guests. “How is your brother, Lan Wangji?”

“Well,” Lan Wangji said. His jaw was working, and Nie Mingjue wondered briefly if what he had thought was social anxiety was in fact barely suppressed rage. “Would you come to the Cloud Recesses as well, if we invited you?”

Nie Mingjue blinked at him, surprised out of his gloomy thoughts. “I’ve already attended one round of lectures, Wangji. You remember, surely? It was two summers back – was it three? – when I was thirteen, at any rate.”

“There are always new things to learn,” he said vaguely in return, and it was such a Lan Wangji thing to say – such a Lan thing to say – that Nie Mingjue barely managed to keep himself from cooing and calling him a good little cabbage. “Would you be allowed to come?”

“Probably not,” Nie Mingjue said regretfully. “But if you could take Huaisang when he’s old enough, it would be a good experience for him.”

Possibly not for Lan Qiren, given Nie Huaisang’s issues with memorization, but certainly good for Nie Huaisang.

“He doesn’t have many friends here,” he added. “It’s just A-Chao, A-Qing, and A-Ning…have you met the latter two? Huaisang, if you haven’t, you should introduce them.”

“I will,” Nie Huaisang said. “Da-ge, are you sure you can’t find a way to go?”

Nie Mingjue realized that his brother was trying to get him out of the Nightless City, likely in his own efforts to deal with what had happened to him. He sighed, reaching out to touch Nie Huaisang’s hair lightly. “I’m the heir of Qinghe Nie, Huaisang. He’s not going to let me go until he feels confident in controlling me.”

And that would not be soon, he didn’t say, but anyone looking at the marks on his face or the careful way he held himself could put that together easily enough.

Lan Wangji’s lips were pressed tightly together, but Nie Huaisang sighed, yielding to logic, and took him away again. Nie Mingjue returned to his corner, hoping that the shadows would help conceal his bruises, and sank into meditation, trying to not to fantasize about the world in which he could take that offer of help, well-meant as it was. A world where he could take Nie Huaisang and all the Wens – even Wen Xu, who was a nervous wreck underneath his apparent arrogance – away to the tranquil peace of the Cloud Recesses and never come back.

It wouldn’t help to think of that world. It wasn’t this one.

-

Wen Ruohan held court from his throne in the main hall and from a simple chair in the dining room, but he was equally terrifying in any location. His questions had only gotten harder as time passed, and everyone kept their heads down and answered to his satisfaction, even Nie Huaisang.

His questions were easier than everyone else’s, and after dinner ended Wen Ruohan touched Nie Huaisang’s hair and told him with a smile that he was a pretty but useless bird, a lovely ornament to their house, and that they couldn’t possibly do without him. The eyes of all the Wens slid straight to Nie Mingjue, each one filled with terror at his reaction, but Nie Mingjue for once held his tongue.

He hadn’t really expected Nie Huaisang to be able to leave, not this year. Perhaps next year this little interaction would be forgotten and they could try again.

(He wanted to break every one of Wen Ruohan’s fingers so that they never touched his brother ever again. He wanted to make it so that Wen Chao didn’t look wistfully envious even as he shivered in terror at the thought of his father’s attention, make it so that Wen Xu didn’t look dull and resigned in anticipation of endless pain, make it so that Wen Qing and Wen Ning didn’t look so close to tears. 

He wanted to be home in the Unclean Realm again before he forgot what it was like.)

Wen Ruohan smiled at him, probably reading his thoughts from his face. “Walk with me, Mingjue,” he said. It was not a request. “I would hear about how you are adjusting to life in Qishan.”

Nie Mingjue left frightened faces behind him, and held firm to the thought that it would be politically inconvenient for Wen Ruohan to kill him.

(The fact that he didn’t think he’d done anything to deserve it - this time, anyway - was irrelevant.)

Nie Huaisang found him later that night, sitting on the stone floor next to his bed unmoving, skin cold and clammy with shock, and there was a small and quiet but extremely frantic whirl of activity that resulted in everyone crowding into Wen Xu’s bedroom, it being the biggest, trying to warm him back up.

It was more or less one big swirl of noise and movement, and Nie Mingjue only briefly surfaced to catch a few snatches of conversation –

“– did he do to him? He was only gone a shichen or two –”

“– physically seems fine, but I don’t like what his vitals are doing. Maybe we should call the sect doctors –”

“– if we do that, he’ll find out we did that –”

“– better brother than you ever were!”

That last one sounded like Wen Chao, making trouble again, even though it really wasn’t Wen Xu’s fault that he’d fallen for Wen Ruohan’s divide-and-conquer tricks when he was even younger than Wen Chao was now. It was how he’d been raised, Qishan Wen style, and anyway he’d been doing so much better lately, actually paying attention and joining hands with the rest of them to resist and distract and care about each other.

Nie Mingjue wanted to say something like that, knew that he had to speak, that it was his responsibility, a duty voluntarily assumed in having taken the role of older sibling for all that he wasn’t actually the eldest, but all that came out of his mouth was a low whine, pathetic, and he remembered that right now he really just wanted to die.

“Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you dare –”

“– need to get his body temperature up. His golden core is exacerbating the effects of the shock –”

“– did you hear what he said –”

“– tear that motherfucker’s heart out –”

“– leave my grandmother out of this –”

“– not a real doctor! I’m just an apprentice, and I’m trying –”

“– how could you possibly say that?! Of course I care! Before him, nobody – nobody ever – listen, if I wasn’t nearly five years older than him, I’d be calling him da-ge right alongside the rest of you, okay? Shit, I have half a mind to do it anyway, and fuck anyone who thinks it strange –”

Nie Mingjue closed his eyes and sobbed.

[mihrsuri]

So @varlaamsdarkventures asked about them and as I was kind of going to babble about them anyway have some thoughts about Queen Charlotte (Asri), her (first) spouse and first two children. 

A Note: I see the English Monarch by this point as having a name they use for friends/family/their private name etc as well as a regnal name (A lot of the time the regnal name is their first middle name so Queen Charlotte III’s full name is Charlotte Asri [name] [name] Tudor but her family and friends would call her Asri/Lottie). 

The thing that I realised about Asri and her first husband Rupert Charles Arthur James Churchill (youngest and favourite son despite himself of a restorationist family) is actually they were very very much happy. I’d started out thinking it would be a case of Not So but actually no. They fell in love at the mutual age of just about to be 18, got engaged a week later and remained steadfastly in love. Rupert died at age 25 not long after their second child was born and Asri, though she married again and absolutely loved her husband and wife did not stop loving Rupert. She wore his ring her entire life. That kind of thing. 

Rupert also rage quit his entire family. I mean tbh he was doing that a lot before but especially because they were So Awful to his wife. About everything. Because Restorationists Dicks (though it is very funny because one of Asri’s mothers - Queen Consort Elisabeth is the daughter of both the Duchess of Devonshire and the Duke of Norfolk and her blood is absolutely bluer and older than any of the Churchills (she’s also Black, Jewish and Trans I love her so much just the most elegant and graceful and kind and gentle of Queens) and she will throw it around in this case). 

Edward (Surawirya but he very very much insisted on Edward) came out of the womb looking exactly like his dad (Rupert = Rupert Penry-Jones as the fc by the by) and so what happened is that his paternal grandparents lost their fucking minds and decided actually, he couldn’t be Asris child at all. He was but yeah. 

And then Rupert died. And see Rupert was always their favourite child, despite the fact that he hated everything they stood for. And they obviously blamed Asri for it all. I don’t actually know how they got access to Edward because I know Rupert was like I Do Not Want Them Seeing My Kids Ever - possibly Edward sought them out in his teens or similar? 

But what happened was, they embraced him as The Best. The most special. He would restore the world to how it should be - a glorious white christian empire of benevolence and tradition. He was clearly the child of the True Royal Line Of England.

And Edward bought into it hard. 

His younger brother Tjok Gus Thomas did not. Partly because Tjok Gus was very much dark skinned and oh boy did his paternal grandparents let him know it and partly because of the two of them it was Tjok Gus who was most like Rupert really. (I would say Asri very passionately believes in causes like Edward but she had you know, braincells). 

Now Edward (which I think makes it worse) actually did love his mother and brother. He adores his four much younger half siblings - triplet boys and Princess Askala and honestly their love for them is about the only thing that he and Tjok Gus agree on eventually. But he believes in what is fascism more. He does not want to think about what will happen to them - I think he thinks he will benevolently provide for them :vomit emoji: 

He becomes King in 1936 at the age of 42. For six months. He and his wife (who is horrific - I will make a post about Anthea Lake-Jones at some point) badly attempt a Restorationist Takeover. It fails. The King actually gets convicted of treason. The death penalty is not a thing in this world and has not been for a long time. He and his wife actually manage to flee England but have to spend the rest of their life in the Restorationist Haven of Near Monacco under heavy survelliance and making each other miserable.  

(This is an echo of the whole abdication crisis)

[kairos-polaris]

Revelations and not so secret crushes

A little gift for @bunathebunny . Also @miraculousmelodies , like I promised

People make mistakes all the time. And it's okay! Failure is a part of progress and if you never fail, then you don't do anything at all.

One may argue that mistaking potions for milk and eating someone's special macaroons wasn't this type of mistake. "He should have been more careful," they say. But did you try to make coffee in a kitchen littered with potions while also being sleep deprived? No? Thought so.

The last paragraph was specifically written for Dick's younger brothers, Jason Todd and Tim Drake. Those two decided that it was a great idea to make fun of their dearest elder brother and his very unfortunate mistake. And even if Tim was perfectly aware of struggles that came with making coffee while being sleep deprived, he didn't have to worry that white liquid may be a potion, not milk.

But in the end Dick was very grateful for that small mistake. It has resolved several conflicts and had very unpredictable consequences.

***

It was morning. Just a normal winter morning. You know, when it's too dark and far too cold and you don't want to leave your bed? That was a morning like that.

Normal men don't get up at six a.m but Richard "Dick" Grayson wasn't one. And it's good, because his family was neither normal nor sane.

"Being normal is boring," his girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, would say. If it were someone else, Dick would wholeheartedly agree with them while hanging upside down from the chandelier in the manor.

But because it was Marinette, Dick had to immediately assume she hasn't been sleeping or eating healthy for the last 48 hours. Usually, he was wrong, but he did enjoy taking care of her.

Another proof that shows how much Dick Grayson isn't a normal or sane man is vigilantism. You see, normal people deal with trauma by talking about it with a therapist or their friends. And do you know what did Dick do? He donned his family's colour and decided to beat up criminals. What a great idea! And Bruce Wayne allowed it because, apparently, fighting crime is an appropriate hobby for a nine-year-old boy. (Don't worry, Brucie, we know that Dick Grayson is too stubborn and he forced you to make him your sidekick, we don't blame you much)

No matter how much not normal or insane Dick was, he was a good man who wanted to help people. That's why he didn't complain to Bruce about being tired after patrols. Much.

It didn't mean he didn't complain to Marinette though. Hugs and kisses were an added bonus to her being a very good listener. But that morning Marinette was too busy to even notice him. Dick tried his hardest to swallow his disappointment. He knew how important every commission was to Marinette. It was her passion and her life.

He sighed with the most miserable expression he could muster but Marinette didn't even look up. She continued sewing and ignoring his brilliant performance. Dick huffed with annoyance. How could she ignore him when he was sitting on their bed looking so sad and exhausted and hot?

***

Kitchen was the best room in their apartment. It was also the safest one because of Marinette's protection charms and spells. There was always a faint smell of pastry and delicious food.

Preparing coffee was completely mechanical. His tiredness didn't let him comprehend his own actions. That's why he didn't notice the strange taste of the drink as he should have.

Dick immediately felt better after finishing his coffee. He felt like a burden was lifted from his shoulders. It made him think about Marinette. His lovely girlfriend. He wanted to, no, he craved to see her. He could bet she smelled amazing.

Marinette was still working when he entered their room (she preferred her bedroom to any office). His heart swelled with tenderness at the image before him. Marinette was biting her lip, strands of hair in her face. She was also wearing his sweater, which made him roll his eyes, because it was the very same sweater he had lost. She was so concentrated that she didn't even notice him entering their bedroom.

Dick slowly approached Marinette to not spook her. "I love you, Cupcake," he confessed out of blue. Marinette jumped at the sound of his voice making Dick cringe internally. "I'm sorry for startling you, Mari." The woman just laughed and took off her glasses. Apparently, sewing in deem light isn't good for your eyes. And how could she know that?

"No, don't be sorry. I should pay more attention to my surroundings," Marinette suddenly stopped mid sentence. "I'm sorry for ignoring you earlier, Birdy. Do you want a hug?" Dick grinned at her offer and immediately scooped her in his arms.

"I know it's been a stressful week. What do you think about staying in bed the whole day? We can watch a movie. We can watch the Ladybug one and make fun of inaccuracies. Or any other superhero movie," he ranted excitedly. Marinette laughed a little and pulled back slightly. Dick's was adorable, but Marinette had a feeling that he wouldn't appreciate her laugh.

"I have to finish this dress for Clara, you know that," Marinette sighed tiredly. She really wanted to take a break and spend the day with her boyfriend. He always knew when she was too tired to continue working. Maybe, today was a day like that?

It was unfair to keep Marinette from her passion and Dick knew it. But! He wanted to spend some time with his wonderful girlfriend. It wasn't his fault she was the cutest person he has ever met. And he still couldn't make her choose between her passion and him. Dick sighed and started moving slowly to let Marinette out.

"Hey, I didn't say no," Marinette laughed at his hopeful gaze. "Yes, I would really like to spend more time with you."

And that's how Marinette found herself suffocating in a tight grip of her boyfriend. She actually didn't mind it. Feeling his weight on her body was the best feeling ever. It reminded her that he was with her, grounded her, when she was too concentrated on her work.

Marinette didn't really focus on the movie that was playing. Something was off and she couldn't focus. Dick was talking but she couldn't understand a word so focused on her feelings.

"...Marinette? Marinette?" Dick's worried voice drew her out of haze. She could see concern in his eyes so she tried smiling as reassuring as possible. Dick didn't seem convinced but hard lines on his face relaxed a little bit.

"I'm sorry. I dozed off. Cuddling with you always makes me sleepy, you know that." Dick sighed and hugged her even tighter. "What were you talking about?"

"I wanted your opinion about the next Titan's mission. You see, Wally has offered this strategy…"

Marinette listened to his every word very attentively. His excitement was obvious in every line and small movement. He was proud of Wally and his ideas, he wanted to share it with her.

"Do you know that you've spent more time complimenting Wally than actually relaying his strategy?" Marinette asked with a teasing smile. His face and neck were immediately covered with red spots.

"I… I… I have a crush on Wally!" Dick blurted out and Marinette felt like all air from her lungs disappeared. Colour left Dick's face immediately after realising what he had said. He started babbling how much he loved her, how important she was for him, he kissed her cheeks and hands. But all Marinette could focus on was that… she had lost a bet. Jason would be unbearable for the next several weeks. Or maybe even months. Marinette shuddered at the thought.

"Marinette, please, say something. Please. I'm sorry," Dick was clearly panicking and for a moment Marinette wanted to prank him. Pretend that she was hurt and then explain that it was because of her bet with Jason. But it felt too cruel, so she took his hand and smiled reassuringly.

"I knew it," she said, and Dick's bewildered expression was worth her honesty. "And it's okay, because it's possible to love multiple people at the same time. You loving Wally doesn't mean you don't love me." Dick stayed still for a long moment before leaning to her and knocking her breath out with a kiss. Marinette tried to lean away but he chased her lips every time, continuing kissing her.

"I love you so much. I don't know what I have done to deserve someone like you, but I will keep you until the end of the Universe," he whispered into her lips when they finally pulled a part.

"I love you, too. And falling for you felt like the easiest thing in the world," she said breathlessly, making Dick snort. He let out an involuntary whine when she leaned even further away.

"Why were you so upset?" Dick asked after several minutes of silence. Marinette murmured something into his shirt but he couldn't understand a word. "Can you repeat it please? I didn't understand a word you've said."

"Because I've lost a bet," she repeated just barely louder, but thankfully Dick heard her clearly this time.

"A bet?" he asked with the most confused and bewildered expression possible.

"You see, both Jason and I knew about your crush on Wally. And one day we were bored, so we started talking about you two. Jason said that you would blurt it out during an inappropriate moment but I thought you would sit me down and explain everything. So now, because of you I will have to give Jason 10 dollars," Marinette explained, carefully gouging hir reaction.

Dick prepared himself to hear a lot of different explanations. They varied from "I was surprised and didn't know how to react" to "I am unhappy with this and everything I said was for your comfort". He did not expect that the reason for her surprise was a bet. A bet. With his brother. His brother who also knew about his crush on Wally.

"How… How did you two find out? I thought I was doing a great job concealing my baby crush."

"Oh, it was so hard! You totally don't look at him with a stupid lovesick grin. And you totally don't laugh at his stupid jokes. You don't hold hands and touch each other all the time. You don't look both at me and him when you make jokes or laugh. Oh no! You do all of that and more!" Marinette exclaimed with a fake surprise.

"...I do?" Dick asked, his voice so small. "And you really don't mind it?"

"I really don't mind. As I said before, I'm secure in our relationship and I know that you love me. Also, I really like Wally. You have a good taste," Dick's smile at her words was brighter than thousands of suns. He picked her up and started spinning her around. Marinette's laugh filled their apartment, and in that moment Dick knew everything was going to be alright.

***

Later, much later, Dick was panicking. Everything sounded so easy when Marinette was with him. "Just go and confess to him,"she said. "I'm sure he feels the same," Marinette said, patient as ever, when Dick was panicking about every possible negative outcome.

"What if he rejects me? What if he wants me to break up with you?" he asked Marinette then. He tugged his hair from the frustration, but Marinette just smiled and took his hands.

"If he rejects you, I will hold you until you feel better. We will eat ice cream and watch cheesy movies. And Wally is a good person, I'm sure he would never ask us to break up." Dick briefly thanked all gods for giving him Marinette before leaning in to kiss her.

"I love you," he murmured into her lips.

But now he was alone in their apartment, because, unlike him, Marinette had a job to do. Dick sighed the tenth time in a row. He didn't have to worry about Marinette's reaction to his confession, because she was the one who had asked him out. "I don't hesitate anymore," she had said with a brilliant smile.

Well, Dick knew one thing for sure: he was a coward and would never confess to Wally without Marinette being there. And he couldn't ask anyone for advice. How does one explain that they are in love with two people at the same time? Should he just google it?

His musings were interrupted by a series of long knocks and a loud voice. Was it Jason screaming. "Hey, Dickhead, asking someone to hangout with you and then not showing up is such a dick move!" Yes, that was Jason. Dick scowled before remembering that he had invited Jason and Tim to spend time together.

He grinned and leaped out of the bedroom. Hanging out with his brothers would be a perfect excuse to not confess to Wally! A great timing on their part.

"Hey, guys..!" he was rudely interrupted by a shirt thrown into his face.

"Get dressed, Dickie bird. I don't want to see proofs of you and Pixie having a healthy sexual life." Dick flushed bright red when he realized that he was naked. He ran back to his bedroom followed by both Tim's and Jason's laugh. God, how embarrassing.

***

Wally was bored. He felt like he could die from boredom. And the day had started so nicely. He woke up early and prepared himself a very tasty cup of tea. Wally finished every small task around his apartment. He started reading several different books but none of them piqued his interest. There was nothing interesting on TV.

Wally sighed again. And again. And again. He felt like an aristocrat, laying on his coach with a wine glass full of water in his hand. The only thing missing was a manor. And nicer clothes. And servants. And wine. Actually, a lot of things were missing.

Jason's invitation to hangout felt like a blessing. Finally, something interesting to do. His heart totally didn't flutter in his chest when he found out that Dick would be there, too. No, sir, no. Dick was his best friend and nothing more. He was also dating Marinette, Wally's another very good friend.

Wally was the first one to arrive at the bar Dick had offered to meet in. It took all of his mental strength to not start bouncing from all the energy.

"Hi, Wally," Wally's smile dimmed a little when he realized it was Jason, not Dick. "I thought Dickie would be here first. You know, considering it was his idea."

Wally nodded at Jason's words. He thought he would have at least several minutes alone with Dick, who seemed to avoid him lately. And if he did pay attention to Wally, Marinette would always be there. It wasn't a bad thing per se, because Marinette was amazing, but Wally wanted some alone time with his best bro.

"I wonder why," Wally mussed at loud. Jason smiled in agreement and started talking about neutral themes. Wally could do that. After a day of pure boredom everything was interesting.

Twenty minutes later Tim was there, but Dick was nowhere in sight. Wally frowned. Did something happen? Dick would never miss family hangouts.

"You are late, Replacement," Jason chided Tim, conveniently forgetting he himself came later. Wally laughed at the sheer hypocrisy, but it was a very Jason move.

"Well, Dick is not here, so I don't think it counts," Tim shrugged. He was holding a half-empty cup of coffee (what else could it be?) and clearly needed more sleep. Wally internally shook his head. Sleeping as little as Tim was surely wasn't good for his health. Where were Dick and Bruce looking?

"Where is Dick anyway?" Jason asked, letting out an annoyed huff. "Did he do that so Timmy and I could hang out together? Not a very smart move, because I can just leave now and he will never know."

"He could have just forgotten about it," Wally suggested. He was met with two doubtful gazes. "Yeah, it's very unlikely. Something has happened and he can't leave?"

"Why didn't he say anything then?" Jason asked. He was leaning down on the wall of the bar with a small frown. "We should call him or Marinette."

"Marinette is working so she can't know where he is. We should call Dick directly," Tim said, already holding his phone. He was the one who dialed Dick, but Dick didn't answer not after the first call, nor the second, nor the third. Wally was worried. Dick always answered when someone called. Something must have happened.

"I was right. We should go and check on him. Should we walk or should I run to his apartment?" Wally asked, worry laced in his voice.

"Let's ride. I parked my car nearby," Tim said and turned around, walking to his car. Wally looked at Jason who just shrugged and went after Tim. Well, it seemed like he didn't have a choice then.

The ride to Dick's apartment felt longer than it should have. Wally was burning from all the anxious energy. What if something has happened to Dick? What if they were too late? What if Dick just didn't want to see them? Wally didn't know what would hurt more.

The apartment's doors were locked, which was a good sign. It meant that nobody had broken inside. It also meant that they couldn't enter. Fortunately, Tim had his own key so it wasn't a problem. ("Marinette gave it to me," Tim answered Wally's silent question. "She wanted me to know that I'm always welcome here". "Oh, Pixie didn't give me my own key! Does she not want to see my handsome face?" Jason asked more dramatically than needed. Wally totally wasn't disappointed that he didn't have his own key. It didn't mean that Dick didn't trust him, right?)

The apartment was clean, no visible signs of someone breaking in. Wally looked around, trying to find some clues that would help to understand the situation. Jason yelled something, but Wally didn't pay enough attention to understand him.

Wally turned around at the sound of Dick's voice only to look away immediately. He did not expect to see Dick naked. Wally blushed, thinking about the man's muscles and biceps, small scars on his chest and arms, scratches, and hickeys… Wally paled immediately. Oh, yes, hickeys, because Dick Grayson, his best friend, was dating Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Wally couldn't let himself forget.

It was easier to think after Dick had left. Now, Wally didn't have to use all of his mental strength to not ogle his best friend. Wally wondered why he had reacted this way. It's not like he had never seen Dick naked before. "You saw him when you were changing. You were both naked then. But here, it's much more intimate," his traitorous mind whispered.

"I'm not waiting for the golden boy to get dressed. I'm going to the kitchen. Pixie always has something sweet there," Jason said and walked out of the living room. Wally looked at Tim who just shrugged and followed his brother. Well, it seemed like he had no choice but to go to the kitchen.

The room was full of light and delicious smells. The table was littered with numerous vials, pastry, herbs, and other things Wally couldn't identify. He breathed out, feeling more relaxed than ever, despite his complicated feelings. Marinette's presence and influence were obvious there, and she always had the way to make people feel better. She was just magic that way.

"Wally! I didn't know you were here," Dick's excited voice interrupted his thoughts. Wally didn't even hear him coming in. Do not think about his body. Do not think about his body. Do not think about his body. "I'm really sorry about forgetting our hangout. I'm deeply ashamed."

"You wish I said "it's okay, I forgive you". But I won't! I will always tease you about it, so get ready!" said Jason, while rummaging through a freezer. "Where is milk, Dickhead? I wanted to make a cup of tea for myself, but I can't find anything here."

"Oh, we ran out of milk," Dick replied easily before a panicked expression settled on his face. "Wait… If we ran out of milk, then what did I add to my coffee this morning?"

"Welp, I hope it wasn't one of Marinette's potions," Wally offered sympathetically, but one look at Dick's panicked expression hinted that it was most likely what had happened. And wasn't that funny? Judging by Jason's laugh, he also thought it was hilarious.

"We can call her and ask about the effects of that particular potion?" Tim offered, trying to be serious but burst out laughing. Dick did not appreciate the lack of concern from his brothers. What if the potion hurt him and the effects could never be reversed? "It's very funny, but we really should call Marinette. We don't know how it can affect Dick. It could be really harmful," Tim said after calming down. Even Jason stopped laughing.

They did call Marinette. It must have been the smartest decision in several hours. But she didn't answer. Calling her five more times didn't help. They just were directed to voicemail. Marinette's cheery voice telling them "Hi! You've reached Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I'm very sorry, but I'm busy and can't answer you right now. You can leave me a message and I will call you later! Bye!" didn't help.

"And what should we do?" Wally asked, interrupting the awkward silence. Well, it wasn't awkward per se, but Jason desperately trying and failing to suppress his laugh did make Dick feel uncomfortable.

"You can try and recall everything that happened. This way we can know how exactly the potion affected you," Tim offered with a small shrug. "Start from the morning and up until this moment."

"I was really tired after patrol last night, so I tried complaining to Marinette, but she was too busy so she ignored me. I decided to make a cup of coffee. I actually felt better after it, but I had this strange need to go and hug Marinette, tell her how much I love her." Wally totally didn't feel a pang in his chest. He wasn't jealous. He didn't want Dick to confess to him, because they were best friends and nothing more.

"What happened next? Or are you hiding something?" Seemingly innocent questions (especially, considering it was Jason who asked) flustered Dick so much he was completely red. He's so handsome…no, bad, Wally, stop. "Oh, you are hiding something."

"Marinette and I cuddled, while watching movies," Dick answered, still as red as a tomato. "And then we had sex!"

Wally wasn't jealous Wally wasn't jealous Wally wasn't jealous Wally wasn't jealous Wally wasn't… Oh, he was so jealous

This time silence was certainly awkward. Very awkward. Dick was burning from embarrassment. Wally was trying to convince himself he wasn't jealous. Tim was thinking about anything other than his brother's love life.

And only Jason was amused. The day was working out great for him. He won 10 dollars. Yes, it wasn't much, but the satisfaction of winning the bet with Marinette was worse so much more. It would be even better if Dick blurted out that he has a crush on Wally with him nearby. But it seemed that his dearest older brother would rather embarrass himself than confess.

"Is it everything? Because I think you have left out something," but Dick just glared at him. Well, time for big guns. "Were you and Pixie talking about something? Something very important? Something that will have a big influence on your relationship?" he then feigned a scandalised gasp. "Did you confess that you have cheated on her?! Did you cheat on Marinette?!"

Dick's glare was the funniest thing in the world, and Jason's snickers just made him angrier. "Nothing like! I just told her that I have a crush on Wally!" His satisfied expression slowly morphed into one of shock. "I meant to say that I had told her about my crush on Wally! No, not that! About patrol! Yes, patrol!"

"Your crush on me?" Wally asked, his voice small and soft. He clearly was shocked by Dick's confession. He looked even more surprised than Dick was. "Are you serious?"

Tim felt like he was in a tv drama. Secret crushes? Check? Oblivious main characters? Check? Mean brother Jason? Check. The drama of the reveal? Check. Friends to lovers? Check? Another love interest? Check. The only difference was Marinette. That woman certainly wasn't the "evil and annoying wife". He briefly wondered how she had reacted, but judging that Dick was still alive she was very nice.

"How unpredictable, how surprising," Jason stage whispered, leaning down to Tim. This time both Wally and Dick glared, which was somehow even more amusing. Even Tim was cackling.

"Get out of here. I… Wally and I have to talk about my stupid slip. Go!" Dick shouted, basically throwing them out of the kitchen. Tim and Jason exchanged a knowing look and burst out laughing. Knowing that it pissed Dick off made them laugh even harder.

Dick didn't know what to say or how to react. He wanted to wait for Marinette to confess to Wally. She would know what to say and how to explain his feelings better than he could ever do. Her presence would give him strength and courage. He didn't want to blurt it out. Again. He was an idiot and Wally would never like him back.

"So, you like me?" Wally asked with a nervous chuckle. His crush liked him. His crush liked him. His crush liked him. Wally could not believe it was real and he wasn't dreaming.

"I..yes. Yes, I do," Dick stated, more confident than before. "You are smart, amazing, and incredible. You have a beautiful smile that lights up every room. Your plans are brilliant, but you don't always see it. You are very important to me so yes, I like you."

Wally felt like his head was spinning from Dick's compliments and the sincerety in his eyes. Blush rised to his cheeks. He was at loss of words. How should he react?! Compliment him back?

"I… I really like you, too," Wally finally answered, his throat dry from nerves. Dick broke in a brilliant, brighter than the sun grin. "How did Marinette react to that?"

"Do you want her exact words or just generally?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Generally."

"Well, she said that polyamory exists and that me loving you doesn't mean I love her any less," Dick answered with the same gentle smile he always had when talking about Marinette. But this time Wally didn't feel envious or jealous. Dick suddenly looked more nervous than before. "Would you date me? You don't have to date Marinette, but I don't want to break up with her, you know?"

Wally didn't know. He has heard about polyamory and open relationships before, of course. He didn't know what to do or how to act. Would he and Marinette have to share Dick? Would they have a schedule, so they could spend time with Dick? Would they have to be together all the time? But Wally did know that honesty was important in every type of relationship so he took a deep breath and explained everything to Dick.

"Well, neither I nor Marinette have the experience of dating two people at once, so we will have to figure it out. Trials and errors, you know?" Dick offered with a small 0shrug. He looked away, suddenly more nervous than before. His main concern was confessing to Wally, he didn't think how the whole thing would work. "We can try anyway."

"We can try, yeah," Wally repeated with a small smile.

"Now kiss!" Jason groaned from annoyance and lack of patience. Dick felt blush from embarrassment (the amount of times he blushed today was concerning). Jason was not affected by his glare at all. "Well, I'm waiting. Marinette wanted to see your first kiss and I promised her to take a picture," he said gesturing to his phone.

"We won't kiss on camera. We can wait for Marinette," he growled before realising that he hadn't asked Wally how he would feel. Dick could hope the sudden realisation wasn't obvious, but judging by Jason's and Tim's expressions they both have noticed. Nothing to lose then. "Would you mind kissing me with Marinette there? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Wally was silent for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. "We can try, I guess," he said before realising one very crucial detail Dick had missed. "When did you two return? Because I remember Dick throwing you out of here."

"When Dick confessed to you? I'm not sure," Tim said with the same tone one would discuss weather, not their brother's love life. Jason nodded in agreement. "Now, we can leave you two alone. Right, Jason?"

"Eh, we all have to make sacrifices for the happiness of our elder brothers," Jason said with a dramatic gasp, but nothing new, nothing new. "Let's go, Timmy, let's go. We are not welcome here." Wally could swear he had heard Tim mutter "it's not like I am the one who suggested to leave" under his breath.

"So, are we waiting for Marinette?" he asked with a nervous chuckle. God, having Dick's undivided attention and being completely alone with him was a nerve-wracking experience. Wally locked his eyes on Dick's lips. They looked even better than usual. Was it because he could kiss him now? Must be. "No, I wanted to kiss you for too long to wait even a second more," Dick murmured before leaning towards Wally.

Kissing Dick blew up his mind. It wasn't something Wally hoped would ever happen but desperately wanted to. Dick's lips were a little bit chapped, just enough to notice but not enough to make their kiss uncomfortable. Wally didn't want to lean away even for a second to take a breath. If it was his last kiss with Dick (and it certainly wasn't), he would enjoy for as long as he could.

"It was just like I imagined it," Wally blurted out when they stopped kissing. He felt breathless and higher than ever.

"So you imagined kissing me?" Dick asked with a smug smile. "Well, I am me and I'm awesome."

"Where was the confidence when you were panicking about confessing to Wally?" Dick and Wally immediately wiped their head towards the voice. There was standing Marinette with a teasing smile and a Polaroid in her hands. "Don't worry! I wasn't standing here creepily and watching you two make out! I just took a photo and left immediately. Didn't want to intrude," she explained upon noticing Dick's and Wally's reaction.

"Why did you take a photo?" asked Dick.

"For my scrapbook, my heart. I have a photo of our first kiss, our first date, from the day we moved in, and when we finally organized everything. And I wanted to have photos of every important milestone in your relationship, too," Marinette explained, while moving gracefully around the kitchen. Her chaotic moves seemed to have a complicated system Dick couldn't understand.

Wally… didn't know what to say. Sure, he knew that Marinette wasn't against their relationship, but he didn't expect her to be so supportive and kind. He felt warmth bloom in his chest. He wasn't in love with Marinette, but right at that moment, in hers and Dick's cluttered kitchen, he felt like falling for her was the easiest thing ever.

But they still had some questions for Marinette to answer.

"Marinette, you love me, right?" Dick waited for Marinette to nod in agreement before continuing talking. "I may or may not have drunk one of your potions! But it was an accident!"

Marinette sighed tiredly. Then she sighed again. And again. And again. Wally stopped counting after five consecutive sighs. She pinched the bridge of her nose before talking again. "It's okay. I shouldn't leave my potions in the kitchen if I don't want anyone to accidentally drink them. I'm not mad, not disappointed. Accidents happen and it's not your fault. I just need you to tell me from what vial you took it and how it affected you, okay?"

It didn't take long for Marinette fo realise what potion Dick had taken. And when she did, she burst out laughing. Unfortunately, Dick and Wally didn't share her knowledge of magic, so they couldn't appreciate the irony of the situation without her help.

"I've been trying to make a way to free kwami. Tbe potion you've drunk? It's a result of my experiments. It didn't free kwami but it freed you," Marinette explained before laughing again. And this time Dick and Wally did join her.