#even the feed for my horses comes from just down the road and i cut and bale my own hay

[ears-like-eyes]

You wanna know what is a far better option than being vegan to help out animal welfare and being environmentally friendly?

Buy local.

[might-be-a-lynx]

For the WIP Titles ask game: Elhokar flashbacks!

Okay, so this one are flashbacks I started writing based on my Stuck verse Elhokar. I was trying to really explore who Elhokar was and how he got to be who he was. This isn't even the whole of this flashback. Below the cut is rated G it's just kinda long

He missed his mother.

Elhokar sat in his wagon by himself stacking his toy blocks into various tower shapes. Every so often there would be a bounce and everything would collapse.

It was almost like a game the road was playing with him. It distracted him from his homesickness for a time at least. It was harder to be distracted from his loneliness when you only have the road as a playmate.

His wagon only jolted on really uneven terrain or when they hit big potholes in the road. He'd heard an ardent say that the technology in the wheels took the shock instead of the carriage… Whatever that meant.

Elhokar was starting to get hungry which meant that they would be stopping for dinner and to make camp soon. Elhokar didn't look outside to see how late it was, but two tummy growls later and they slowed to a stop.

Elhokar put his blocks neatly back in their box for something to do as he waited for his nursemaid to come fetch him. She had been riding a horse to talk to a handsome soldier. He had overheard the servants talking about how they were going to get married once Elhokar had outgrown her.

That would be very soon, apparently.

Father didn't want him spending too much more time with women. Elhokar needed to start learning how to be a man. And that meant leaving Mother and Jasnah at home and traveling to see Father without them.

There was a polite knock and then the door of the carriage swung open revealing his nursemaid. She was a plump young woman with a kind face and a kinder smile. She wasn't allowed to carry him anymore unless he fell asleep somewhere strange, but she still let him wrap his arms around her neck and she'd hold him for a moment before setting him down on the ground.

He held her skirts as they made their way through the bustle of the soldier's setting up camp to where the lighteyes were to be seated for dinner.

There were… Way more tables being set up than before.

Elhokar looked around.

There were way more people than there had been before.

Was that Uncle Dalinar's banner?

“What's going on?” Elhokar asked, tugging on his nursemaid's skirt.

“Oh you were napping when it happened! You do remember we were to meet with your Uncle's army as they traveled to meet with King Gavilar's?”

Elhokar nodded, looking around at everyone.

“Well we met up with them today and shall continue with them through more dangerous lands.”

“Dangerous?” Elhokar whispered, trying not to sound frightened.

“Now, now. Brightlord Dalinar is more than capable of keeping us safe. Now come along, Elhokar. Tonight you are to sit with the men!”

That almost scared Elhokar more than traveling across dangerous lands. He hadn't seen his Uncle in over a year! He'd left just after little Adolin had been born, and he'd always been scary…”

Reluctantly, Elhokar let himself be led across to where a group of high ranking officers talked.

Out of nowhere a voice boomed, “Elhokar! Boy what have they been feeding you? You must have grown a full foot!”

The men laughed but moved so that Elhokar could look at the man with the scariest face he'd ever seen. He was smiling widely at him. Elhokar had to try really really hard not to hide behind his nursemaid. As it was he still pulled her skirt towards him enough to hide most of his body from view.

It wasn't that he didn't recognize his Uncle. But he'd also not spent much time with him.

And unfamiliar people were scary when they didn't have super scary faces and big loud voices.

His nursemaid moved him around in front of her and then gently pushed so that he'd start walking towards his uncle who looked more like a mountain than a man.

“Good evening, Uncle,” Elhokar greeted formally the way he'd been taught.

“Ha!” Dalinar laughed, putting a giant hand on his head and ruffling his hair. “My brother was right to have you leave the company of women. No need to be so formal with me, son.”

Dalinar turned his attention to the grown up conversations and Elhokar was ignored and maybe even forgotten about. Elhokar turned his thoughts to more interesting things than going to taverns and women which seemed to be all soldiers ever talked about. Instead he thought about how high of a rock he'd be able to get away with climbing the next morning. He'd seen some good ones around but he'd need to do some scouting…

When it was time to be seated, Elhokar reached out of habit for his nursemaid's skirts. Instead he grabbed something warm and very rough.

Startled, he looked to see what he had grabbed and realized he'd accidentally taken his uncle's hand! Father didn't approve of boys who could walk hand holding…

He was in so much trouble-

Uncle Dalinar curled his fingers around Elhokar's hand which was tiny by comparison. Elhokar looked up at his uncle who grinned in a fond (but still scary!) sort of way and led Elhokar to the table. Dalinar didn't seem concerned about holding Elhokar's hand at all.

No one said anything about it so Elhokar didn't either.

Uncle Dalinar was the type of man that did what he wanted because no one could stop him. Father was that way too… I need to be that way, he thought.

Usually he wasn't allowed to sit and eat with anyone but his nursemaid unless it was a family breakfast or lunch. Just sometimes on really special occasions he could join the feasts, though he always had to go to bed early.

If Elhokar had been allowed to sit and eat at all with the grown ups, he was always with his mother and sister and never allowed to sit at a men's table.

Uncle Dalinar plopped Elhokar in a seat and then sat in the adjacent one. Elhokar was pretty certain that was against the rules. Dalinar was the highest ranking person in the camp now!

“Is this right?” Elhokar found himself asking. “I thought you were supposed to be seated next to someone more important.”

Dalinar snorted. “You and I are second Dahn or so I've been told.”

“What does that mean?” Elhokar inquired. He'd heard the word Dahn before a lot and there were numbers attached… but Elhokar was still learning numbers, and no one had told him why the numbers mattered. Then Elhokar cringed. He'd asked two questions. Father hated it when he asked too many questions. And Elhokar never knew how many were too many…

“It means you are my brother's son and anyone that says otherwise can talk to me.”

That didn't really answer the question, but Uncle Dalinar didn't seem mad. In fact he started asking questions.

“So what does a boy your age do for fun?” Dalinar asked as he stabbed at his meat with a deadly looking knife.

“Well… I have my wooden swords,” Elhokar said, deciding not to mention his blocks which he was probably too old for. “And there are lots of games to be played with those.”

“Such as?”

“Grestshell hunts, dueling, fighting monsters, shardbearers…” Elhokar listed.

“Have they started training to use a sword properly?”

“No?”

“Hmph. We'll need to fix that. It's no good for a boy not to know how to hold a sword properly, wooden or otherwise.”

Elhokar nodded. He was sure Dalinar had ardents with him that could start training him-

“Come join me in the mornings and I'll teach you some katas.”

Elhokar perked up. “You will?” Uncle Dalinar was the best warrior in the whole world! Even better than Father! Then his face fell in thought. “But then when will I be able to climb rocks?”

“Climb rocks?”

Elhokar blushed. “I like climbing on rocks…”

“As you should! No boyhood is complete without climbing on things his nursemaid wouldn't approve of,” Dalinar said. He looked to be considering the issue seriously. Most adults pretended to consider his problems seriously, but really they just thought them childish and unimportant. Most adults just didn't understand the value of climbing a good rock. “I'll tell you what. If I see a rock worthy of us, we'll climb it.”

And just like that, Elhokar was excited again. His Uncle may be scary, but Elhokar hadn't played with anyone else in a long time! There were other kids in the caravan, but they were all the children of darkeyed servants and Elhokar was forbidden from playing with them, because they had “nothing in common”.

He couldn't understand why. He saw them climbing rocks all the time. Elhokar liked climbing on rocks. And sometimes he even heard them calling out that they had found interesting cremlings on those rocks. He liked finding interesting cremlings. That was two whole things they had in common! Sure they couldn't play swords with him because of how low born they were, but maybe they could pretend to have spears!

And Elhokar didn't think it was fair that they got to play with each other and he had to play alone. He was the crown prince! Shouldn't he be the one with lots of playmates?

Elhokar was so jealous that he chose to spend most of his time in his wagon where he didn't need to watch them rather than running around outside at the edges of the caravan which would be much more fun.

He finished eating his food, but his time with the men apparently stopped at dinner.

“Come, Elhokar. It is time to prepare yourself for bed,” his nursemaid said.

“Bah! The boy is old enough to stay up past moon rise. Maybe it's time he learned how to play cards!”

Elhokar was hopeful. Dalinar was a man that got what he wanted. He turned to look at his nursemaid to see if she agreed… and her face had fallen from her kindly smile to that no nonsense stare that told you that she would drag you by the ear down the hall if you didn't obey her wishes now. And it was leveled at Dalinar.

Elhokar looked back at Dalinar who didn't seem quite so confident.

“Eh, maybe he is too young for that. I'll see you in the morning, son.”

Uncle Dalinar retreated.

Elhokar humphed but let himself be led off to bed. He always forgot how scary his nursemaid could be when dealing with what she called “inappropriate behavior.” Uncle Dalinar's face wasn't nearly so scary by comparison.

[fakesurprise]

A War, and an Ending.

They came out of the dark. Soft, soundless. It was only the quivering of buildings that gave them away when the monsters descended on the town. They were too old, too fast. Some said they had slept under the hills for centuries, others that they had glided into this world from another: none of it mattered. They came faster than horses out of a forest rendered still as death.

Kir could only watch from inside the remains of the stone temple as her people fought and died. No one tried to flee. No one knew how to speak their tongue more like bird song than speech and beg for parley. No one prayed, not that prayers could matter in this.

The Still Folk moved, and the people died.

Wrapped in her spell, desperately trying to see weaknesses, Kir watched as one bled to a stone blade and merely laughed. The wound healed as though afraid to let one of the Still Folk bleed on the ground. Too fast, and quick, and death followed with them. Nothing no one hadn’t known before. They had claimed the forest as their own and all things inside it had died even as the trees had remained, frozen against wind as if they had become stone to escape their own death.

She watched her folk die, the combined magic of the village barely enough to keep her hidden. Maron - the priest who had come here - had passed on knowledge, chosen Kir as the next vessel. She understood why he’d died rather than continue on himself. There were stories no one should see more than once.

“Please,” she whispered, “gods unnamed, your wills unknowable. We can fight. We can die. We cannot win. Have you aid, before the end of all we are?”

The bodies left behind were not still. Already insects burrowed from the earth into corpses left behind like debris. In the time it had taken her to close her eyes and pray, everyone else had died in the village of Twella.

The Still Folk had taken nothing.

They never did.

A sound cut through the spell, a howling beast in mourning. It took a second scream for Kir to realize the voice was her own. She covered her mouths with shaking hands. She had a duty, to a village further away. To be a warning. To be Maron for them.

“Are you hurt?”

Kir froze.

A stranger stood in front of her, clad in clothing that fit too well. He was younger than Kir. Thirteen winters. Most years were measured by the summer, but he looked like one who had been born in winter and carried that coldness in his eyes. He was strange, soft and with one mouth but not like those who had committed slaughter here.

Even so, she demanded: “What are you?“

“A traveller. Passing through.”

“No one travels here. There is nothing here,” she spat, waving her right hand to the dead. With her left she gathered up what magic remained to her, only to see the spell unmake itself before it could touch the stranger.

He blinked. “Killing someone when you’ve just been introduced is slightly rude.”

“You are not one of the Still Folk?”

“I have been called many things. Still is rarely one of them.”

“I need to -.” Kir caught herself before her voice broke. She was not going to break. “I need to go to a village down the road and warn them of the Still Folk. It is my duty, though we cannot stop them.”

His gaze flicked from body to body, a slight frown touching his face. “You should depart quickly. I imagine the others before you did.”

Kir stared at him, and then a gasp escaped her as the bodies aged to bone and dust.

“Even the animals they kill,” the stranger said. “This happens to them as well: they take and feed on what is unfinished.”

“How are you a stranger to me but not to them?” she hissed.

He stepped back, something like surprise in his face for a moment. The bland coldness returned, but he smiled very slightly.

Kir knew a few tending magics and trickeries: the latter was why everyone had pooled their magic into her so she could warn others. She had seen a Witch once, back when they called themselves… and this faint smile shook her to the core. There was darkness in it. But so much else like songs she knew she would never hear.

“I have run into them before. Sunhee, in some stories. They were brought here?”

“No one knows. The Witches -.” she shook her head. “They were called the Wise once, and lost that name. We think the Still Folk killed them?”

“They must have. And won’t stop. I wonder if they even can now?” He began to walk toward the road. “I suggest we hurry, lest they reach the town before you do?”

“We?”

“You have no power to stop them, I suspect. I may be able to get them to go.”

Kir stared at the young man. “How?”

“Easily,” he said softly.

Against her will, she walked beside him. “What is your name?”

“Stranger will do, for now?”

“And you’re just wandering?”

“I try to. I am not very good at it.” He shoved his hands into the sides of his leggings, pulling them out a moment later. “We should hurry.”

They walked quickly, making no casual conversation. Kir tried to reach for the magic she’d been given, but nothing remained at all.

For a day they walked without rest, and she knew she was too late when she saw burning buildings in the distance. Broken watchfires and warnings.

The world shifted. One step, another, and she was somehow in the town of Elium proper, the Still Folk moving among the people. Killing and killing, with nothing to slow them.

“Stop,” the stranger said. “Sunhee: this is not your world. You do not belong here.”

The Still Folk turned at that. The noise they made was not laughter, but something older and uglier by far.

The stranger spoke another name, and at that the Still Folk moved with too sharp blades and hungry eyes.

“You should not kill someone whose name you do not know,” the stranger said. His voice was soft with warning, too old for his face.

“Give it to us,” and the Still Folk all spoke as one. Somehow slow and fast: Kir could see wrinkles of time etching into flesh and how each death they made pushed time back from them.

“I have been called Jayseltosche,” the stranger said.

The name meant nothing to Kir. But the Still Folk let out a collective sound of such anger and hate that the world itself seemed to vibrate, and their singular faces were alien, yes, but terror was writ so deeply on them that Kir shuddered just a little, wishing for the protective fur of childhood for a moment.

“Go,” the stranger said, soft but not gentle.

“We are dying. Your strength: we will take -.”

“There is nothing in me you would want,” the stranger said, and his voice was a grey emptiness.

The Still Folk recoiled. There was sorrow in them, and the stranger flinched slightly at that.

In the flinch, Kir saw the Still Folk vanish. Gone? Fled? Kir had no way of knowing. She turned to the stranger, who looked calm and unworried again. Below that calm she knew there was a storm: but not what kind nor why it blew.

“Have I loosed something worse among my people, among my world?”

“Not in the sense that you mean, no.”

“You terrified them.”

“I claim no power here, nor over you. I perhaps harmed the Still Folk once, long ago. I gave them an ending, because the rest of their kind are long gone.”

“The ending they brought to my people: can you undo that?”

“No. Because I am thirteen and there are limits on both my power and my will. The dead stay dead, Kir. The living wait to join them, but that is not all the living do.”

Kir shivered just a little. She knew, and the knowing was hard, that this was too deep a path to continue down. “Go, stranger. We do not bind our unknown gods. So will I not bind you.”

The stranger blinked, just the once, and his smile was a softness that eased her pain in ways she knew she would never understand.

“I thank you,” the stranger said, and vanished a moment later, though not in the way the Still Folk had.

The world rebuilt. In time, Kir was called Wise - though never a Witch - and the world changed and shifted. No other threat tried to enter the world, and Kir suspected they never would. She did not see the stranger again, and knew that also as a blessing.

[forthedancingandthethriving]

Part 1

Writing practice for the most part

tw: manipulation

○●○

The fox mother let out a few soft yaps, grabbing her cub by his scruff and back into the secure, hollow tree trunk. The cub protested, squeaking and yapping, but wasn't able to get away.

The skies above the land of Luminos were dark and cloudy. Dark as the night sky, yet no stars or moon provided light, the clouds preventing them from seeing the kingdom below.

Rain poured down, as it had been for a week now. The land was flooded with rainwater, lakes, rivers, and oceans rising. Countless habitats ruined the water drowning vegetation.

Animals of any species had taken refuge in places that were high above ground, knowing that dangers that lie below. Predator and prey put aside their differences, solely due to the fact that it would scarcely matter.

Places farther from the kingdom had locked down, doing their best to work amidst the rain that never ceased. All seemed to realize it had something to do with the kingdom of Luminos going silent, but no one dared venture out and see what happened.

Roads and pathways were flooded, turned to mud that dared to sink anyone who stepped on it. Not even the most trained of horses dared.

Luminos was no better. Unknown to all outside, the bubble around the kingdom stayed up. Its code working well to keep all the residents alive while in the perfect world Nimbus had crafted for her. Working effortlessly and feeding the Program that made it.

In the solarium, the second largest room in the kingdom, five bubbles were in it, with five beings inside. Queen Melody, Ambrosia, Lumiere, SMG8, and SMG9.

The stained glass windows didn't shine. Their colors that normally brought warmth and comfort to the room were cold. The depictions of music, dancing, and harmony on the windows still seemed true, but not in this world.

Nimbus found herself kneeling in the middle of the solarium, holding the conch shell in her paws, gazing at it silently. The rain pounded against the roof of the castle, reminding her of her choice a week ago.

She clutches it, form shaking. Was this right? Did she do the right thing?

Isn't this what you wanted? the words of the water construct ring in her mind again. I'm giving you the perfect life again. No Avatar code to worry about. No stress of having to mask.

Nimbus shudders, her eyes squeezing shut. Had she gone about this the wrong way?

She exhales before jolting, remembering something.

"Oh god, the meetups.." she whispers, tail puffing up. What was she going to do?!

She jolts again, hearing two knocks. Her eyes open as she gazes at the door. "Who..?"

It opens, and there slithers in the water construct. "Having fun?" it asks.

"I.. yeah.." Nimbus looks away. "But I.. I just realized something. I.. I have meetups with.. friends, outside of my universe from time to time. And.. the latest one is coming up soon."

"If you leave with the conch shell, the dream will stop." the construct informs her.

"Well that's.. that's not so bad-"

"Not so bad?" it cuts her off. "It is bad. Your perfect life will be gone forever, Nimbus. Making a conch shell like that takes time and effort. Time neither of us have."

"Well.. I just.." the Songbird looks at the floor. The water construct slithers over to her and wraps around her.

"Dear, think about it, really. You've obviously wanted this for so long. To have your friends, and no worry about your code!" it pats her cheek. "So, really, it'd be horrible if you left, and this ended. Don't even think about it, little one."

Nimbus hesitates. "Well, what about.."

"I'll go in your stead."

It slithers off of her, and it's both changes, taking shape of her. Nimbus watches, amazed, as color comes to its body, mimicking hers perfectly. It's eyes were cloeer, but she assumed that they were the same color as hers.

"And I'll make little constructs of your friends so that they can tag along." the water construct walks over to the bubble of SMG8 and slips its paw into the bubble, gripping the Guardian's arm, and accesses the memory banks.

It suppresses a flinch, feeling some demand it back off and to go away. It doesn't yield, though, and it copies the memory banks. It pulls its paw away and walks over to SMG9's bubble, repeating the same action.

With ease, it makes two constructs of the Guardians, inserting the memories, but keeps the constructs dormant.

It looks at Nimbus, who was watching, amazed.

"Go back to your little dream." it smiles. "I'll handle everything from now on."

Nimbus hesitates before nodding. She walks to the middle of the solarium and jumps, curling around the conch as she does. A bubble forms around her, and she falls asleep.

○●○

Leto hums, satisfied, before opening its eyes and looking in the reflection. It immediately falters, seeing green eyes staring back. "That isn't her eye color!" it gasps, looking back towards the bubble.

It pauses before sighing. "Oh, whatever. It's not like anyone will notice. She keeps her eyes closed most of the time anyway!"

A flick of its paw had the two constructs of the Guardians turn to small water orbs. It tucks them into a pocket before walking out of the solarium.

It glances back, eyes narrowing.

It didn't remember Guardians having that secure of defenses. Something noticed it immediately. But, just like before, if those Admins knew what was good for them, they'd stayed out of Leto's business.

It makes its way into Nimbus's chambers and spots a calendar. It picks it up and smirks. Just a few days from now, the meetup was set to take place.

What fun.

Leto always wanted to see what it was like having so many Avatar in one place.

It flips back a few times and spots the location. SM64 universe.

It makes sure to remember that before turning and leaving.

Leto just couldn't wait to put on a show soon. It really wanted to see just how well it could fool others.

[psycen]

Empyrean

The eighth chapter of the in-progress novel, Blood Knight.

The dirt of the unpaved forest path crunched under foot as we walked down the empty road. Birds sang gleefully among the treetops, and animals scattered upon observing our approach. The forest’s eyes were watching us with caution, holding its breath as it observed the alien intruders.

Athena followed close beside me, with Jerilyn closely observing our rear. “And while I was re-reading a book on alchemic practices, I discovered that some of the ideas could be replicated if I added a bit of mana to the rituals. I practiced by starting to make a homunculus, but I didn’t have most of the ingredients, so I used some replacements to get the job done. For example, instead of a horse’s womb, I used a variety of eggs resting under a nesting shrub. I tried drawing a few magic circles into the eggs to see which would work best. I had to feed it once a week with Gorgon blood, but it seemed to work better when I used my menst-”

“Ok, stop right there,” I cut Athena off before she could continue her exposition.

“What’s the problem?”

I sighed. “Are you always so open?”

Athena spent a second in silence. “There wasn’t much I wouldn’t tell my parents. They used to listen to what I had to say, even if it wasn’t interesting for them. They never discouraged me from saying what I wanted to say.”

I thought of something. “What happened when you gained your mana circle?”

“I don’t know. The normal process I suppose. I saw a premonition from the fractural of a mana circle and drew it over my heart.”

“Mana circles aren’t normally drawn by human hands.”

“They’re not?” Her tone seemed strangely flat for how surprised she was. “I always thought that’s how it worked. When I told my parents about it, they told me to keep it secret from other people.”

“You told your parents?” So many thoughts ran through my head as I tried to make sense of the situation. “So, is that why Lord Regalis supported Magnus?” I mostly asked myself.

“Father wanted to protect me,” Athena explained as she kicked a small stone. “Most divergent mages never make it past the age of twelve. The church will find them before then,” she said with a hint of sadness.

“Well, I’m still alive despite being in my mid-twenties.”

“Do you have a divergent mana circle?” She looked at me with a slight tilt of her head.

I unsheathed my stiletto, pricking my finger. I controlled the blood draining from the wound to create an outline of a crimson red rose.

“I am a blood mage.” I gave up control of my blood, letting it land on my skin. “I saw a vision from the fractural when I was a lot older than you are now. I can reproduce any magic with blood as a substitute, and I can store blood in a pocket universe created to do so.”

A massive explosion of mana could be felt deeper within the forest, off the beaten path. The source created ripples in the ambient mana, filling the air with dread.

“Stay here,” I instructed Athena, stepping in front of her. “Hide yourself, and don’t come out until I return.”

Athena swiftly jogged behind a bush, remaining out of sight from the road. Once I was sure Athena was hidden, I started to approach the burst of mana. The forest was large, taking me a while to wade through it. As the ambient mana calmed down, I could sense a faint trace of mana. I found a small opening in the forest, the convergence of mana being inside. The mana was wild, just like what you would see in a Talentless, but at its centre was a mana circle, though it was completely dormant.

I slowly walked into the opening, the sun bearing down on me from above. A stone flew at me, but I knocked it to the side before it hit me. There was a girl in the centre of the opening, continuing to throw any sticks or stones that she could find around her. She had long reached physical maturity, being in her late teens, wearing a tattered dress that was elaborately wrapped. She had two different eye colours, her left eye being silver and her right a dark green, and her hair was a shiny, dark-wood brown with lighter, blonde highlights. She cowered away from me, putting up as much of a fight as she could.

“Stay away,” she desperately screamed as I approached her.

“I’m here to help,” I tried to reassure her before grabbing her shoulders.

The girl shuddered and froze as if fear had overwhelmed her. I let go of her shoulders and gave her some space.

The mana around her started gathering around the mana circle. While I was preoccupied by the sudden change in mana flow, the girl reared for a kick. Once I noticed, I had little time to protect myself, crossing my arms over my chest to lessen the blow. The kick was powerful, knocking me out of the clearing and into a nearby tree. The blow knocked all the air out of my lungs and breathing became painful.

The girl’s body posture had changed, showing complete confidence in her own abilities. She charged in, readying for a punch. Mana was being poured into the punch like her fists were her weapons. I gave up on defending myself, opting to dodge the punch instead. It was the right choice, as if I had tried to protect myself, my arms would have vaporized and my head along with them, just like how the tree behind me had a chunk taken out of it.

This girl couldn’t be taken lightly, her every mana-filled swing bringing destruction to the environment around her. I managed to take advantage of an opening, using this opportunity to deal a blow, aiming right under her right set of ribs. The strike broke my hands as something was protecting her like a set of armour. I took a blow to the stomach as she dealt a counterattack. Fortunately, the punch couldn’t build enough mana to vaporize me, but it was more than enough to hurt.

I created distance between the two of us, giving me time to heal my hands. I was forced to summon my armour to protect me, even if it was only able to do so for the weaker blows.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

She didn’t respond. She left me no room to recover, charging in for another blitz attack. All I could do was defend against the oncoming wave of attacks until my hands healed. I cast Blood Mist to conceal my presence. I used this time to analyse her mana flow, and upon closer inspection, her mana seemed to build invisible objects from thin air, such as armour around her body and a pair of gauntlets around her fists.

“I don’t want to fight you,” I tried once more to reason with her.

As I hide in the mist, the girl created a new item for herself, this time a great sword, pouring mana into its blade.

“I won’t let you take us!” she yelled, growling in a lower tone.  

She swung the sword, creating a gust of wind, dispelling the scarlet mist. The sword she held could actually be seen by the eye, a hot blue flame emanating from the clear blade. Another swing of her sword sent a wave of fire. I had barely enough time to cast Flowing Blood, redirecting the flames that would have hit me with the water-like flow of blood, like a stone being pushed by a rushing river. As I summoned my great sword, I could feel the intense heat flow pass me. As the wave passed, I noticed that nothing around me was burned. The girl followed her attack with an overhead strike, which I managed to block with my sword, the flickering flames licking the sides of my blade. Her face was twisted with a rage directed at me. I used all my strength to push her away from me.

“I’ve killed many of you shadows on my journey,” she proclaimed threateningly, pointing her sword at me. “Don’t think a single Knife will be enough to stop me.”

“Don’t-” I dropped my sword, approaching the girl at a range her great sword would be ineffective, pulling out my stiletto, “-compare me to those damned Knives!”

The first strike to the torso was unsuccessful, the blade bouncing off the invisible layer of mana. The girl used this opportunity to strike me with her knee. I blocked the strike with my hands, getting knocked away from her.

She seemed to be hesitant in using this opportunity to continue attacking. We both kept our distance, daring the other to attack first. Every small movement we made communicated our intentions. I took initiative, lengthening my stiletto with blood, charging in as if I was going in for a stab. The girl took the bait, exploiting my lack of defence with a horizontal swing towards my torso. I twisted myself over the blade, landing on my hands. I used the footing to direct my legs around her neck, grappling her to the ground.

She struggled to free herself from my hold, clawing and punching, until she relaxed. She tapped the side of my thigh, so I let her free. She gasped for air, taking a minute to recover. I sat on the ground in front of her, waiting for her to catch her breath.

“What do you want with my sister?” She asked aggressively.

“Your sister? Was she the one who released that large amount of mana?”

“No,” she paused for a moment, “that was me.”

“Where is your sister?” I inquired. “Is she with you?”

“Why do you want to know?” the girl glared at me.

“I want to help individuals who are Talentless or have a divergent mana circle. If you wish, I can help both you and your sister find somewhere safe.”

“So, you really weren’t sent here by the church.” She relaxed a bit. “It would be safe to guess that you were once Talentless as well?”

“Once.”

We sat in silence for a while.

“Why do you help the Talentless?” The girl asked.

“Why else but to fight the injustice of this world,” I proclaimed with heavy heart. “My- my mother is talentless. She struggled raising me.”

“Can I refuse your help?”

“Would it be selfish of me to say no?”

“Very.”

We sat in silence once more.

“What’s your name?” I broke the silence.

“Karla,” she briefly answered.

“No last name?”

“My sister has the last name of Marquis, but I have not taken on that name.”

“I’m Ciara,” I introduced myself.

“No last name?”

“No last name.”

Karla hesitated before asking. “What is your mother like?”

“Why do you ask?”

“My sister never knew her mother, so I was wondering what it could have been like.”

I smiled, reminiscing over memories. “My mother has a bright smile that never fades. Every night she would tell me a bedtime story or share knowledge that her mother shared with her.”

“Maybe if she grew up like a normal child,” Karla gritted her teeth, “she wouldn’t have need for me to be with her.”

“That can’t be true. She would probably tell you that you’re very important to her.”

“She can’t,” Karla snapped abruptly.

I was shocked by her sudden outburst.

“I dragged her out here, running away from home, and she doesn’t even know why. I’ve put her through danger because I thought it was the best thing for her at the time. I can’t be sure anymore. Now we don’t only have Father chasing us, but the Church as well. I only cause trouble for my sister. Do you know how hard it is- it is to- I can’t even-”

I pulled Karla in, resting her head on my breast. “I know all too well. Everything will be fine.”

She was stiff for a while before relaxing, letting her head slip onto my lap.

“No one can truly understand how I feel,” Karla lamented, relaxing, but not yet opening, the locks to her heart. “How can I trust that you will help us?”

“I won’t ask you to trust me,” I assured her, “but I will help you, even if you keep a sword pointed to my back.”

“Would it be selfish of me to ask you to take care of my sister for me?” Karla asked.

“Very. But I won’t refuse when I have the ability to help you,” I comforted Karla. “I’m travelling towards the border town nearby. I can take you that far. Adventurers there are much more accepting of the Talentless.”

“What about the church?” Karla inquired. “While my sister may be Talentless-”

“The church has little power in border towns compared to adventurers,” I interrupted Karla. “The church is more focused on currying favour with adventurers in border towns than looking for divergent mages.”

“Thank you. Please take care of my sister. Please take care of Cherbell for me.” Karla requested, before drifting off.

She quickly came back to consciousness. After a while, she jolted out of my lap and stood up.

Cherbell Marquis looked at me, her curious eyes gently gazing into mine. “May I ask who you are?”

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Swimming Lessons.

(1-1)

Short story # 9

2,350 - Words

Fandom - Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing - John Marston X Reader

Summary - Based entirely on Imagine # 662, which reads. imagine taking it upon yourself to teach John how to swim.

Warnings - Light smut, its just a handjob. (Cause I'm a horny bitch, especially when it come to Mr. John Marston.)

----

Looking to her left (Y/n) began snickering quietly when she noticed John snacking away on candy. "What?" John cocked a confused brow at her, still munching away. "You and your candy." (Y/n) shook her head with a grin. "What, I like 'em." John frowned, hesitating his chewing. "Oh nothing, I think it's sweet." (Y/n) joked making John roll his eyes playfully. "Ya got any to spare for your favorite girl?" (Y/n) hummed as she rode beside him, batting her lashes. "Oh I don't give Grace candy." John retorted as he pat his horses mane, his words making (Y/n) huff with a frown. "I see how it is." (Y/n) crossed her arms, spurring her horse into a trot. "Now hold on darling." John called out spurring on his own horse. "I was only playin' sugar." John nudged her shoulder, holding out a few pieces of candy. "And here I am, going out of my way to help you. And what do I get in return, the nerve of some people." (Y/n) sassed turning her nose up at his offer, a fit of giggles erupting from her when John practically pulled her onto his lap, hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry darlin'." John whispered into her hair as he nuzzled into her neck. "Oh alright, I forgive you." (Y/n) sighed playfully, adjusting herself back onto her horse, afterwards leaning over to plant a kiss on John's scared cheek. "Here sugar." John hummed as he grasped her hand, pushing a few pieces of candy into the palm of her hand. "Awe thanks honey." (Y/n) cooed making John chuckle at her, smiling contently as they continued their journey.

--

A few hours had passed and the sun was beginning to set. "We're almost there, but the path isn't the safest to travel at night, we should set up camp then continue in the morning." (Y/n) suggested. "Alright." John agreed with a nod of his head. "Where you wanting to set up?" John asked as they trotted across a bridge. "There's a clearing up ahead, looks like a good a spot as any." (Y/n) pointed to the clearing in the distance. "Sounds like a plan." John agreed as they neared the sight. "Where is it your wanting to go tomorrow?" John asked with curiosity. "Dodds bluff just south of widows Rock, there's an abandoned shack we can set up in." (Y/n) answered his question. "Why there?" John asked with curiosity. "Several reasons, one because the water up there is beautiful, and always a comfortable temperature in the summer, plus we're far away from our friends, so you don't have to worry about them teasing us." (Y/n) explained as they moved from the road to the grass to find the best spot to set up camp. "What exactly are we doing, that they would tease us about?" John eyed his girlfriend wearily. "I'm gonna teach you how to swim finally." (Y/n) stated as she dismounted, her words causing John to freeze up. "Swim?" He muttered in worry. "Yes John, swim." (Y/n) laughed softly as she unpacked her things. "I-I um..." John stammered nervously. "John sweetie, we'll take it slow I promise." (Y/n) assured him as she approached his side, resting a reassuring hand onto his knee. John smiled softly, his heart melting. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me." John whispered softly, his confession making (Y/n) blush under his tender gaze.

--

"So darling, how long you plannin' on us staying out here?" John asked as they sat up the camp, one tent for them, and the other to keep their supplies dry if it rains in the night. "However long it takes until your able to swim on your own confidently." (Y/n) hummed as she moved on to feed the horses some grain. "That could take awhile." John chuckled nervously. "That's okay, I let Arthur and Dutch know we wouldn't be back for awhile." (Y/n) shrugged casually. "How'd you manage that?" John asked as he finished up the last of the work. "I found a few gold bars while out exploring, and I donated two of them." (Y/n) hummed as she brushed her horse, John joining her to brush his own horse. "How many did you find?" John asked with astonishment, both surprised and impressed that she found any gold bars to begin with. "Four." (Y/n) smiled at him, a certain gleam in her eyes. "And what are you planning on doing with the other two?" John asked with a curious gaze. "Well someone real special has a birthday coming up." (Y/n) mused with a playful grin, making John feel all giddy inside like a little kid. "Darlin' you're just to much sometimes." John shook his head with a smile, making (Y/n) giggle softly. "You love me for it." (Y/n) shrugged, gasping when John hugged her from behind. "I love you for more than that baby girl." John cooed as he nuzzled into her soft hair, inhaling her natural scent.

--

When morning came around (Y/n) was practically bouncing with excitement, while John sluggishly followed after her. Having broke down camp and packed up, the couple continued their journey. The small road they took seep and narrow in some spots, making John understand why they didn't risk riding on last night. "There's the shack." (Y/n) pointed to the little shanty, a wide smile upon her pretty face. "The water looks kinda fast." John pointed out as they neared the small building. "It's slower upstream." (Y/n) hummed as she dismounted her horse. "If you say so." John murmured skeptically. "Are you sure no one lives here?" He added as he dismounted. "Yeah I've come up here a hundred times, no one's ever here." (Y/n) shrugged while unpacking their supplies. John wasn't convinced however and removed his bolt action rifle from his saddle, approaching the house first. "Let me just check first." John explained when (Y/n) eyed him funny. "Oh alright." She smiled up at him before he turned his attention to the door, which he pushed open slowly with his rifle. Humming with satisfaction John turned back to (Y/n), shouldering his rifle. "You were right, it's abandoned." He walked down the steps of the porch, taking the supplies from (Y/n)'s hands to take inside. "I would say I'm always right, but you've proven me wrong plenty of times." (Y/n) laughed as they continued their work, her words making John chuckle. "Oh you mean like that time you thought you wouldn't like it when I stick my-" (Y/n) threw an apple at him, cutting him off. "Yes John, like then." She sassed with pinkness in her cheeks, making John laugh a hardy laugh. "You walked funny for three days, but not once did you complain." He teased with a grin, making (Y/n) whine as she hid her face in her hands. "Can we please stay on task here?" She groaned between her fingers, making John beam with pride. "Sure thing sugar." He mused into her ear, relishing in the sight of her shuddering from his voice alone.

--

After everything was dealt with, and the horses tended to (Y/n) led John a little ways upstream. "Are you sure about this?" John asked as they began stripping out of the majority of their clothes. "What of someone sees us?" He added with a nervous glance. "We're far from the main road, and people don't really use this road. We'll be fine, and even if someone sees, it doesn't matter. What we're doing is none of their business." (Y/n) assured her lover, pecking his lips to comfort him. "Hey I want a real kiss." John pouted as he followed after (Y/n), who was now hip deep in water, having gone into the small stream that connects into to river. "Then come get it cowboy." (Y/n) teased as John stood on the back, having an internal debate. Gathering his courage he made up his mind, and began walking into the shallow stream. "The things I do for love." John huffed when he reached (Y/n), his hands instinctively resting on her hips. "I've got you baby." (Y/n) hummed before connecting their lips, the sweet feeling of her lips against his detracting him from his fear of the water. John's grip tightened when she began walking backwards into deeper water, their lips still connected in a passionate kiss. "Wait." John broke the kiss with a strained voice, looking at the water beyond her shoulder. "Hey John look at me." (Y/n) grasped his face between her hands, turning his attention solely to her. "Do you trust me?" She asked as she peered into his dark eyes. "Of course I trust you, I trust you with my life." John proclaimed with a series tone, knowing she'd never hurt him or betray his trust. "Follow me, and stay focused on me, I'll keep you safe." (Y/n) smiled softly, slowly walking back towards the river. John nodded his head, his grasp on her hips still tight as he followed her obediently. His breath came out shaky as he breathed through his mouth, his eyes still locked onto (Y/n)'s. With each careful step they moved deeper and deeper into the water, until the water rest now at chest height. "How you doing John?" (Y/n) asked as she stroked his hair back, smiling at him reassuringly. "I'm alright, just need a moment." He admitted his hands noticeably shaking against her hips. "Take all the time you need baby." (Y/n) cooed as she leaned forward, catching his lips to distract his mind.

When they broke for air John had relaxed quite a bit, now ignoring the sounds of rushing water, he focused solely on the woman before him. "I love you." He murmured softly, so touched that she wanted to take the time to teach him how to swim, something no one else had ever tried. "I love you too John." (Y/n) leaned into his chest, resting her head into the crook of his neck. They stood their in a relaxed tranquil state in the water, allowing John the time he needed to truly relax. "Let's keep going." He suggested softly. "How about we stay here, so you know you can stand up if you begin to panic." (Y/n) countered his suggestion, slowly lowering herself into the cool water until she was on her knees. "Okay." John muttered to himself as he followed suit, slowly lowering himself. "You're doing good." (Y/n) praised when he finally sank down before her, the water now up to his neck. "I'm terrified." John admitted with a shaky voice, wrapping his arms around (Y/n)'s hips now. "Relax sugar, I'm here." (Y/n) hummed as she rubbed his back soothingly, smiling when his back muscles relaxed under her touch. "You know I might just have to reward you for doing so good." (Y/n) mused with a suggestive tone, her words causing John's breath to hitch in his throat. "R-really?" He stammered with surprise, his excitement building in an instant at the lewd thoughts popping into his head. "Yeah." (Y/n) hummed softly, one hand slowly drifting under the water, and down his body. "(Y/n)." John murmured quietly, his cock hardening as her fingers brushed against it. "All for me?" (Y/n) smirked before slipping her hand into his underwear, grasping his manhood by the base, and giving it a gentle squeeze. "All for you." John nodded his head in agreement, his hips thrusting forward, desperate for more friction.

(Y/n) giggled softly as she began stroking his length, rubbing her thumb against the underside of his cock firmly, from time to time. John's mind went hazy with pleasure, his eyes closing as he rest his forehead against (Y/n)'s shoulder. "Just relax baby, I'll take care of you. Make you feel good." (Y/n) cooed and then began peppering his face and neck with kisses. "So good." John praised quietly, unaware of his surroundings anymore. (Y/n) twisted her wrist while brushing her fingers across the tip of John dick, causing a shutter to run down his back. John hissed in pleasure his cock throbbing with need, twitching a little as he neared his end. "Cum for me honey." (Y/n) encouraged picking up her pace, the erratic movements of her arm, made the water slosh around them. "(Y-Y/n)!" John stammered in a moan, ropes of cum spurting from his cock as he came undone for her. "Good job baby." (Y/n) praised her lover, still stroking his cock slowly, working him through his euphoric high. "(Y/n)." John murmured her name, pecking sloppy kisses against her neck. "John my sweet sweet John." She cooed tilting his head up to look into his eyes. "You didn't even notice." She added with a playful smile, her words causing John to take in his surroundings. His heart froze for a moment when he realized they were now much deeper in the river, his feet just barely able to touch the bottom. "See John, swimming ain't so bad." (Y/n) brushed his hair back softly, smiling at him warmly when he noticeably calmed. "Y-yeah I guess you're right." John smiled remaining relaxed when (Y/n) moved back a little, allowing him to float on his own. "It's kinda fun actually." John chuckled as he got the hang of swimming in place. "It is." (Y/n) agreed with pure joy, beyond happy to have taught John Marston how to swim. The couple spent the next three days swimming, and the next four nights making sweet love under the stars, and within the privacy of the little shack. Only leaving when John felt comfortable with swimming. The pair of them worn by the time they got back to camp, Arthur watching them excuse themselves straight to bed with a knowing smile.

[markosmate]

lady

Pairing; Marko x Emerson!Reader

Summary; Moving to a different state with your younger brothers and mother just to live with your grandfather was hard enough, but falling in love with a vampire and then watching your brother do the same thing? Much different story.

Warnings; strong language

au://  Welp lovelies I had promised you a Marko series in February that I started writing while I was manic, then after writing a good five/six chapters I fell into a deep dark hole of depression and didn’t write anything but sad, worthless poetry about a boy I’m in love with who doesn’t love me back :) But now it’s May, a spark of inspiration and happiness has suddenly hit me and I’ve come back to this series to finally deliver it to you!! I hope y’all like it cause I literally stress cried over finishing it three different times :,)

I’d also like to point out that any kind of feedback at all is so so appreciated. Most of my inspiration comes from feeding off of people’s reactions to what I write. So if you enjoy it or have any recommendations or comments at all please please don’t be shy to send me an ask or DM or even comment to let me know :( Thank you and enjoy!!

Part 2

I wasn’t exactly mad about moving, there was nothing holding me in Phoenix that I would be particularly sad about leaving behind. The only thing that struck a nerve was that it was dumped out of nowhere on me. Suddenly Mom had divorced Dad, let him keep everything, and made plans with Grandpa for us to move into his place with him. A little prior warning would have been appreciated, but regardless when we were told it didn’t change the fact that everything we knew was changing. Sam wasn’t happy about it at all, leaving his friends, leaving Dad. Michael... well Michael didn’t really have an opinion. In my view, he was just indifferent. He didn’t really care where the hell we were as long as he had a motorcycle, a job, and some hot chicks to swoon over.

But here we were, packed into Mom’s truck and driving through a town that I’d most likely have memorized like the back of my hand in a good few days. As the three in the car argued over which station to keep on, I turned my head and leaned my forehead on the window of the car. I watched the beach as we drove along the road, and admired the waves hitting against the sand.

I was ready to drift off until we got to Grandpa’s house when a short, exited yell left Mom’s lips. “Oh!” She grinned happily as Sam landed on a station familiar to her. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Oh, that’s from my era! Grooving on a Sunday afternoon!” She sung along with the song as Sam threw his head back and groaned in protest. I laughed at her antics, enjoying seeing my Mom acting so carefree and happy. 

“Alright, keep going, keep going.” Mom and Sam agreed with each other at the same time, Mom leaning over to continue skipping through the stations. Finally, the next station was agreed on and my pounding head thanked the universe for the quiet that I hadn’t been able to achieve the entire drive here. “Hey we’re almost there!”

“Ugh,” Sam scrunched his nose up in disgust after taking a deep breath. I leaned forward to wrap my arms around his head-rest and pull my face closer to the open window. The pungent smell hit me, and I recognized it immediately, low tide, but it wasn’t bad - anything to do with the beach was calming to me regardless. “What’s that smell?”

“Ah!” Mom breathed in deeply and turned to share a knowing grin with me, “That’s the ocean air!”

I turned to look at the welcoming sign, taking in the colors and faded lettering. “Smells like someone died.” Sam muttered as Mom tutted at him softly. 

“That’s likely.” I muttered to Michael, nudging his head in the direction of the back of the sign, where in big red spray-painted letters sat the phrase “Murder Capitol of the World.”

“Aw guys, I know the last year hasn’t been easy. But I do think you’re really going to enjoy living in Santa Carla.” Mom tried to remain happy about the situation, but a shared glance with Michael after we both read over the sign revealed there wasn’t much he was excited for.

The rest of the drive only increased my excitement. Hippies galore filled the streets, a large amusement park covered most of the boardwalk, and the rest was filled with small shops and food stands. We stopped for awhile so Mom could give some teenagers rummaging through garbage some money to eat and so Michael could unhinge his bike and ask around for job openings, but before I could even think to step out of the car and get a look around we were already heading into the backroads to get to Grandpa’s house.

Grandpa’s house was farther into the plains than expected, but still only a good fifteen to twenty minute drive away from town. Before Mom could ever fully park the car, I had already jumped out and was looking around the property. Michael pulled his bike up next to Mom’s car, and they all took a good few seconds to look around at all the wood carvings and chimes before turning their vehicles off. I took note of the horses grazing in one of the back fields before walking around the front of the truck and seeing a man laying on his back across the front porch steps.

Sam lead the way towards him before Mom cut in front and marched up the steps to squat beside him. “Dad?” She questioned gently. “Dad?” The three of us leaned closer to get a better look.

“Looks like he’s dead.” Michael remarked.

“Like... really dead.” I quipped in, raising an eyebrow at Mom.

“No, no. He’s just a deep sleeper.” She brushed our comments off.

“If he’s dead can we go back to Phoenix?” Sam remarked, earning a snort from me and a sharp look from Mom. 

Suddenly Grandpa sat up, a cocky smirk apparent on his face. “Playing dead. And from what I hear, doing a damn good job of it.”

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation before Mom laughed faintly. “Oh, Dad!”

-

That night, Mom decided that it would be good for the four of us to leave the house after a night of unpacking and explore the boardwalk when it’s at its liveliest. I could admit it looked much more enjoyable now that it was dark and a little chilly, the sweaty people that had been occupying it earlier were now less sweaty and more stoned.

Almost as soon as Mom’s car and Michael’s bike were parked, Mom sent us off on our own so she could spend some time staking out a job in one of the family-owned shops. “Do you think she’ll be able to find one?” Sam questioned as the three of us weaved through crowds, trying to find our way to the beach concert. We could certainly hear it, we were just having a bit of trouble actually getting to it.

“One what? A job?” Michael scoffed as if it was hard to believe, still bitter over the fact there was no legal jobs for him to get hired in.

I laughed, elbowing him softly in the side, knowing that this place was exactly his vibe and in time he would most likely come to love living here. Sam was the only one I was actually worried about. “She’ll probably be able to find one. What, with all these missing people, there’s bound to be tons of job openings.”

“You’re telling me. It’s like there’s hundreds of bullet-boards around every corner with dozens of people missing. This place really is the Murder Capital.” Michael remarked as the concert finally came into our line of sight.

“Don’t say that!” Sam pleaded, shoving Michael’s shoulder with his eyebrows knitted tightly.

Michael just held his hand up in surrender and with one last shrug of his shoulders he turned to me. “You checking out the shops? We’ll find you once we get bored.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed, turning sharply on my heel and blindly making my way back into the crowd. The concert was loud, sweaty, and crowded, and it wasn’t even my style of music - the last thing I wanted to do was spend my first night there. I figured it would be much more productive if I were to check out all the shops and stands running up and down the entire area, maybe find some new pieces of jewelry, or even a possible summer job opportunity.

Many places caught my eye, and I made a mental note to check them out the next time I had free money to spend, as it wouldn’t be wise for me to make an impulse-buy when I’m so close to being completely broke. Instead a small stand in the middle of the walkway drew me to it. A piercing stand. One person working on someone already sitting on the chair. There was a large wall selection of different studs, and many different kinds of disinfectants lined along the counter.

I walked closer to the wall, admiring all the different designs they had. I’d absolutely love to get a helix or orbital piercing, but I knew it wasn’t the wisest to spend money doing something like that at a small stand on a boardwalk in Santa Carla of all places. I was suddenly broken out of my thoughts when a voice spoke up directly behind me.

“It’s a scam, you know.” I jumped, hand flying to my chest, and whipping around to look at the owner. A teenage boy, my age, maybe a little older, with long curly blond hair and a grin that could have probably wooed me into his bed by the end of the night had he not literally just scared the shit out of me.

I laughed breathlessly, shaking my head. “What is?”

“The piercings. If you need one done, I could do it for you. But they use the guns instead of a needle which will definitely infect if you’re planning on doing a cartilage one.” He explained with a tilt of his head as he turned and began making his way towards the restaurants. I took that as an invite to follow, jogging to catch up and walking next to him.

“You know a lot about piercings?” I tried to make small talk, not wanting him to get away just yet.

He nodded with a confident smirk. “I did my own, and my friends. Someone had to learn.” I laughed a little at his mock-annoyed tone and shoved my hands into my pockets to appear to be doing something. He suddenly stopped and turned to me, holding out his hand. “Marko, by the way.”

“Ivory.” I accepted his hand and we both shook, hard and firm.

“You’re new.” He nodded as if finally understanding something that had been going on inside his own head. “I would’ve noticed you before if you’d been here all along.”

We dropped each other’s hand and I gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean by that?”

He barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Nothing rude, you’re just too gorgeous to go unnoticed around here.” Before I could reply, another voice cut in from a few yards away.

“Marko! Marko, man, we’re supposed to meet David in ten!” I looked over to see another punk-looking dude calling out to Marko with his hands cupped around his mouth.

I laughed and look back towards the curly blond. “See you around?”

He nodded in confirmation, sending me one last crooked smile before turning to jog over to his other friend. I turned as well, making my way back into the crowd and away from the middle lane stands. I didn’t make it very far before the body of my youngest brother crashed into my side. I glanced down at him in bewilderment as we used each other to steady ourselves.

“Sam? Aren’t you supposed to be with Michael?” I laughed as he looked as though he’d just had the weirdest conversation of his life.

“Well, I was. Then he saw some girl at the concert and wandered after her so I went to check out the comic store.” He explained, shrugging before letting his eyes wander around once more in search of Michael. I rolled my eyes, of course Michael left Sam behind to go chase after some girl. It didn’t take long to find him, he was only a little further down the stretch of restaurants. He was more towards the end, walking out of the crowd near where the last building - a bar - sat in place.

We walked up behind him, and as soon as I was at his side I followed his eyes to a girl who was walking behind a small child, hand on his shoulder, and steering him in a certain direction. She was pretty - with big, curly hair and a beautiful smile that curled her lips up as her eyes grazed over all the lights of the carousel one last time for the night. I followed her line of sight, trying to place why Michael was following her instead of just walking up and introducing himself, but I immediately realized what the problem was.

She hoisted herself up onto the back of a motorcycle, accepting the help of the blond driver. He had a spiked mullet, dressed in all black, and when he realized Michael was staring at his girl, a cocky kind of smirk crossed his face. His friends parked next him all revved their engines to a start, and I tore my eyes from the platinum blond to see the others. I didn’t manage to catch a good look at two of them, because my eyes immediately looked onto those of the punk from earlier who’d started a conversation with me over pierced ears.

He was already looking at me, and when he realized my attention immediately locked onto him, a predatory look filled the black circles of his eyes and his lips formed into a boyish smirk directed exactly at me. He lifted his hand in a short wave, laughing along with the friend who called him away from me earlier as he shoved Marko’s shoulder in a teasing way. I lifted my hand in a small acknowledging wave back, but was knocked out of my small trance by Sam, who began teasing Michael.

“Come on, she stiffed ya!” Sam laughed harmlessly, gently punching Michael’s shoulder and turning to probably go and find Mom. I broke my gaze away from Marko immediately, turning to follow after Sam and not bothering to look back at all as I heard the bikes pull out and speed off down the road.

“Too bad she left with Mr. Mullet, she was pretty.” I tried to break the tension with Michael, I really didn’t want him to be upset over the lose of the girl, he still had all of Santa Carla’s teenage population of girls to meet.

He cracked a smile and nudged his shoulder into mine. “She really was.”

Once we made it home for the night, I separated from both my brothers and made my way into my own room. It was the smallest of all of ours, but that’s the main reason why I had chose it. It was cozy, and cute. I liked the way it came out once I had finished decorating it.

I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to those boys on the motorcycles from earlier that night. Marko seemed nice enough, even if I didn’t know whether or not I was brave enough to try to pursue a friendship with his more than intimidating friends. Just as I came to the conclusion that I should just get over myself and approach them, a sharp sting of anxiety wedged itself into my gut and nauseous filled my stomach and rose up in my throat. No. I didn’t need to become friends with those boys, there was something off, something I didn’t need to meddle in.

If I saw them again, I’d avoid eye contact and conversation completely. I was never able to understand my anxiety, but I always listened to it when it struck me.

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥You Are Human, And Damn It, You Are An Important One!🔥

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m back! It looks like my tags finally decided to sort themselves out so I wanted to (finally) post a new story! I’m still working on requests though, so don’t worry, those are coming soon! I just wanted to post this in the mean time while I edit those and test if my tags are really fixed on one of my originals so that any requested fics will actually be seen later should an error occur. Thank you so much for your continued support and patience, you guys are so amazing! I hope this makes up for my temporary hiatus! This one actually has a bit of a heavier tone to it but I think I’m finally happy with it! Thanks again for the support, and don’t be afraid to talk to me! Shoot me a message or just spew random bullshit and I’ll still respond 😂. Enjoy!

(Warning: themes of non-con & abuse. This is set in a brothel, but there’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned or implied. Just wanted to put it out there! Viewer discretion advised!)

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Gardener” By: Sarah Sparks 🐉

Word Count: ~7k

~~~

It was that time of year. The time of year that Levi hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It was the time of year in which merchants from all around would come down to the Underground City, away from the prying eyes of the Military Police, and sell anything and everything to the nobles who weren’t exactly looking for orthodox materials. The normally filthy, mostly empty streets would be filled with members of the wealthy, dripping in jewelry, cash, and lavish clothing as they paraded around the sorry excuse for a city, boasting of their wealth and privilege as they bought enough food and luxurious goods to feed three times the number of people in the Underground while sharing none of it.

The days were starting to blur together. Levi honestly couldn’t tell if it had been a day, a week, or a month as the drugs in his system continued to work just like the brothel owners wanted them to, rendering him practically inoperative and perfect for use. His head pounded, swimming with confused thoughts. His gaze was unfocused, warped, and his whole body felt suffocatingly hot despite his lack of cover, his legs shifting as his body instinctively searched for a relief he didn’t even want. But that was exactly how they wanted him.

The sound of his door being unlocked made him look up slowly, his eyes taking a few seconds to fully focus on the man standing in the entrance of his room, a wide, malicious grin on his face. Levi couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. The man smelled of sweat and stale alcohol, and his unkempt appearance made Levi itch, even when drugged out of his mind.

“Oh, Levi…” the man cooed, making Levi shudder. “I have another customer for you.”

Even though Levi had been through this time and time again, even though he had been trapped in his filthy room since he was caught stealing from a merchant friend of the brothel owner at age twenty, even though the drugs in his system were making his body scream for what this new customer could give him, he still couldn’t help the wave of dread that washed through him, the fear. Levi didn’t fear much, having grown up on the streets of the Underground alone since he was abandoned by Kenny at the age of ten, but this? This he was scared of.

He thought back to the wretched old man that had abandoned him as a small child and wondered what he would think of him now. Would he be disgusted? Unsurprised? Angry? Not that it mattered. Levi knew he would never see him again. But even so, his brain couldn’t help itself from going down those roads, asking questions of “what if?” no matter how many times he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. He was just some bastard thug turned whore in the Underground. Nobody was going to even remember him, let alone care about who he was or who he may be in the future.

Levi was once again brought out of his daze when the pig in the doorway moved to the side, letting a noble woman saunter into the room. She had a wicked grin on her face as she approached him, ignoring the brothel owner as he slammed the door shut behind her, giving them some privacy. She was covered in glittering jewelry, and although the dress she wore was extravagant, it was very tight fitting and low cut, barely considered decent, her large breasts one breath away from spilling out over the top. Her hair was pinned up in a lavish braided style, twisting and coiling tightly, and held together with real gold pins that Levi knew must’ve cost a fortune.

“~Well, hello sexy,” the woman purred as she approached the raven-haired man.

Levi had to force himself not to grimace, even with the effect of the drugs, when she slithered her way over his thighs, her hands reaching up to cup his face. The smell of whatever custard perfume she had on was overwhelming, making his eyes water and his throat close up. Her hands felt clammy from all of the lotions and creams she had slathered over her skin to make it look shinier, making them feel like dead fish rubbing against his cheeks.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask my name?” The woman demanded in a sickly sweet voice, making Levi close his eyes in barely suppressed agony.

“What is your name?” Levi asked in a low voice. He felt the woman preen above him at the sound of his voice, knowing she thought his deep tone was for setting the mood rather than the effect of his despair.

“My name is Lady Clarissa! What’s your name, hmmm?”

“Levi,” He said quietly.

“Oooh, Leevviiii, I like that,” Lady Clarissa practically moaned. “Say, Levi, you were quite expensive. That must mean you're really good at what you do. I can already tell that you fulfill my personal tastes in terms of appearance, so why don’t you convince me of the rest and give me a good time. Don’t make me regret spending my good money on you. Don’t make me punish you.”

Levi gritted his teeth when she ground her hips into him, trying his hardest not to fight back. He knew it would be difficult, the drugs making his movements and mental processes much slower, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was shove her off of him. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Levi reached for her as she leaned down to force her tongue into his mouth.

It was that time of year. The time of year that (Y/N) hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It took everything in her to avoid groaning in annoyance as the people she was expected to call her friends dragged her down into the filthy Underground City for a day of “fun”. (Y/N) would much rather be back at home, reading a book in the library, or relaxing with the horses in the barn, or secretly practicing her sword fighting skills with the guards of their estate. But her father had forced her to go when her friends had shown up at the house, begging for her to come with them. He claimed she needed to get her priorities straight and actually present herself, show the honor and pride that came with being part of the (L/N) family. (Y/N) thought there was very little honor and pride in parading their wealth around like they owned the world, especially in front of people who constantly struggled to survive on a daily basis.

(Y/N) walked slowly down the worn cobblestone streets, suppressing the urge to gag at the sight of other nobles walking around, looking and acting as if they were rulers of the walls. She barely looked at anything, only stopping to occasionally buy food when she noticed the hungry children hanging around, looking for a scrap to steal. She could tell they were wary of her, but she never stopped trying, always offering them the food in some way, even if it meant leaving it in a secluded space for them to find later.

Her friends constantly tried to get her to engage, running up to her with crystal jewelry, silk clothing, and delectable foods, attempting to entice her, only to get pushed away. (Y/N) wanted no part in any of it. Even her attire spoke volumes about how little she wanted to be there. She knew that to the people of the Underground, the dress she wore would be considered something of utmost value, but when compared to the nobles around her, she looked underdressed and plain. She wore nothing more than a subtle red dress covered with a black leather jacket, paired with black combat boots and matching gloves, no jewelry to be found except for the simple white earrings she wore in her lobes.

Her father had been less than pleased with her appearance, but stopped arguing when she announced she was leaving, the lord just happy she had at least agreed to go to the festival. She knew he was disappointed in her, annoyed that she wasn’t like the other noble ladies who loved to flaunt their luxurious lifestyles and bend to the every whim of the lords around them, looking to marry early for money and power. (Y/N) wouldn’t be surprised if the entire reason her father wanted her here was so she could possibly win over the affections of a single lord milling about, one that was rich and influential. It was for that possibility alone that (Y/N) had originally thought to wear something that made her look underdressed, having to swallow the bile that rose in her throat at the prospect of catching some snobby noble’s attention.

“Yeah, her name is (Y/N)! She’s the one right over there, I think she could use a good time.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up when she heard her name, her eyes shooting over to where her friends were standing in a group in front of a large building. All of them were looking at her, covering their faces with their hands to hide their giggles. Dread filled her to the brim when she saw the sign in front of the building, her face paling in horror.

“That one, eh? I think we can arrange something like that,” the brothel owner said, a smug smile on his lips as he stared at her, his grin only widening as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one in particular that could give you a good ride. He’s expensive since he’s my most popular, but he’s worth it.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, her cheeks on fire as her brain fought to think of something, anything to get her out of this situation. She didn’t want to fuck some random stranger for no reason, but she especially didn’t want to have sex in a brothel. She found them vulgar, repulsive, and horrible. The way they treated their “workers” was appalling. Just as the words finally reached the tip of her tongue, one of the girls she had come to the festival with cut off her impending argument.

“Damn, I’m jealous! If he’s that good I’m almost tempted to take him myself. But she needs this. She hasn’t loosened up the entire time we’ve been here and I think this might help. She’ll take him.”

The greasy man smiled and wrote her name down, happily accepting the roll of cash her friend handed him before getting up, supposedly to let the man know that he had another customer on the way. (Y/N) tried to escape when she could, but her friends rushed up and caught her before she could slip into the shadows, dragging her over to the brothel and shoving her towards an open door where the brothel owner stood, a creepy smile still plastered on his face.

“Guys! I don’t want this!” (Y/N) whispered frantically as she was dragged towards her doom.

“It doesn’t matter if you want it or not, you need it!” One of her friends said with a laugh. “Besides, you’re going to have a fun time. Don’t make us regret spending that money for you!”

(Y/N) was practically thrown into the room, stumbling as she fought to catch her balance, before the door was slammed shut behind her, the loud sound of the lock being latched reverberating around the room with the finality of a death toll. Huffing in anger, (Y/N) stood and brushed herself off, smoothing out her dress and straightening back up to her full height, fighting off the panic slithering up her spine.

A low groan of pain coming from behind her made her whirl around in surprise, her eyes landing on a shorter, pale skinned man with stunning silver eyes and raven black hair. Gods he looked pathetic. She could definitely tell he was attractive, it made sense now as to why he was a popular choice, but he looked sickly, his cheeks hollowed out, dark circles under his eyes, and a muscled yet neglected body starting to wear thin from years of hunger and constant overuse. The sight made her want to be sick. How could anybody be cruel enough to force themselves onto this obviously abused man? How could anyone willingly pay money to fuck him rather than help him?

“Um, hello,” (Y/N) said quietly. “W-What’s your name?”

The man raised an eyebrow, not used to the soft, kind, almost shy way she asked for his name. The women and occasional men he dealt with most of the time were demanding, controlling, and sadistic, knowing they paid for a man they could use, and their voices usually projected that. Yet, this woman looked as if she had been forced to do this, further supported by the way she had been nearly thrown into the room by whom he assumed was her friends.

“Levi,” he said quietly, waiting for the usual routine to start, no matter how much his gut twisted in disgust at the thought.

“Hi, Levi, I’m (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)...” Levi murmured softly, training himself to memorize it despite his swimming brain, knowing she would want him to scream it out later. Whether in pain or in pleasure, he wasn’t sure yet.

“Um…” (Y/N) was about to speak, her mind scrambling for something to say when her eye caught sight of a large bruise on his neck. Her eyes widened and suddenly started scanning his entire body, her stomach roiling more and more the longer she stared. Now that she was really paying attention, (Y/N) could see painful bites, hickeys, and splotchy bruises littering his neck, jaw, chest, and thighs. Her eyes narrowed on the long, bloody scratches running down the length of his chest and back, and she noticed blooming red patches of skin all over him that were raw and aching from being slapped hard and rough over and over again. 

He was wearing a loose pair of worn boxers as his only cover, and (Y/N) could only imagine what other horrors the thin cloth was hiding. Glancing down, she saw him shift uncomfortably, his boxers tented by his arousal. The sight made her growl in anger, knowing that to keep him going after he had already had so many customers for the day, a drug was being used to make him insatiable, forcing him past the point of pain and probably clouding his judgement and mental process as well. It made her want to go cut up the brothel owner and serve him to a pig.

Without thinking, (Y/N) rushed to him, reaching out to him, only to freeze when he flinched. She heard him curse at the involuntary movement, knowing it was his job to appear as unaffected and sexually appealing as possible, and it made her heart clench even harder, her hatred for this place and the people who ran it increasing tenfold.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) immediately slowed her movements, trying to appear as calm and unhurried as possible. Her gaze softened and glazed with unshed tears when he closed his eyes, his arms reaching out as he prepared for her to sit on his lap and have her way with him like she knew every other man and woman who used him did. Gritting her teeth against the fury she felt, she carefully slid her way across his thighs. She felt him force himself to relax under her as he leaned forward to let her kiss him.

When he felt nothing, and heard something click, Levi cracked open his eyes in curiosity, only to have them fly open all the way when he felt something cool and wet against his neck. Looking down at the woman in his arms, his lips parted in shock, watching in confused awe as she leaned back and soaked a small cloth in some water from a bottle, rinsing the fresh blood from the fabric. Looking to the side, he saw a small first aid kit by her feet, the container open to reveal a variety of medical tools inside.

(Y/N) leaned forward again, raising the towel to his neck to dab at his abrasions, washing them carefully, reverently, almost... lovingly. Levi opened and closed his mouth but no words came out as she continued to work on him, delicately cleaning his jaw and neck before carefully moving on to his chest. Was this some kind of strange ritual she always performed during sex? Did she just find him dirty and want to clean him up before putting her lips or her pussy on his skin? His mind was running a million miles a minute as she worked on him in silence, only pausing when he hissed quietly at the feeling of his gashes being washed.

(Y/N) frowned as she gently swiped the cloth along the red gouges in his skin. They were deep, most likely caused by the long, sharp nail extensions some ladies liked to wear, or the dull blade of a man with violent tendencies. It didn’t surprise her, a lot of the men and women who used people like this did have sadistic qualities, but it didn’t help to quell the now roaring fire in her blood, wanting nothing more than to fight against the injustice of this man.

“W-What are you doing?” Levi finally managed to ask.

“Cleaning your wounds.”

“Why? Is this some kind of-”

“Preparation? No. We aren’t going to do anything. I just want to help your injuries heal.”

Levi felt like his brain was full of static, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He wasn’t complaining, far from it, but he couldn’t get a reading on this woman. Why would she, a noble from the surface, want to help him, a hopeless whore from the Underground?

“Wha-”

“Before you ask what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I didn’t even want to do this. I was forced to come to this festival because my father wants me to become more of a proper noble woman. But since I wasn’t too thrilled about having to be here, the people I came with thought I could use an opportunity to loosen up, and paid for me to do this with you in the hopes that I’d start having fun with them afterwards. But I have no intention of doing any of that. I hate how everyone in the Underground is treated like shit, and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of someone who obviously isn’t in control of his situation. I just want to help.”

Levi closed his mouth, all of his protests dying on his tongue. He still had questions, a lot of them, but he decided those could wait, her explanation making him feel surprisingly relaxed for someone who had trained himself to never take the word of a noble at face value. He had never met anyone like her. Even before he was forced to whore himself out, all he had ever known of nobles was their complete lack of humility and egotistical sense of self-importance. 

It was silent for a moment, but this time, the silence was more comfortable, both of them starting to relax a little as (Y/N) continued to patch him up. Levi felt himself loosen up a bit, his muscles unwinding as his hands settled on her waist, keeping her securely balanced on his lap as she worked. Pride swirled in (Y/N)’s chest as she felt his tense muscles soften, her eyes sparkling as she started to work her way towards earning his trust.

“What’s your happiest memory?” (Y/N) asked suddenly.

Levi quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, “Why should I tell you, brat?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head and stifling a giggle at the nickname. “I only asked because I figured we may as well talk while we do this. Not only that, I feel like you could use some happiness right now. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to.”

Levi was silent for a minute, the cogs in his mind turning as he tried to make what he believed to be the right decision despite the fog clouding his judgement. Just as she had promised, (Y/N) waited patiently, not pressuring him to answer, or even bringing up another question. She merely sat in silence, her clear (e/c) eyes narrowed on his injuries as she worked to make him feel better.

“There was a time when I was with my friend Farlan, a few years back. We were doing a job, trying to get rid of a troublesome merchant for a client of ours when we found out the merchant had a cat. We were hiding around the corner, waiting to strike when that damn cat jumped up onto Farlan’s lap. I’m fine with cats, but that was the day we found out Farlan had some kind of allergy to them. He was trying to hold back his sneezes but finally lost control right when the merchant came around the corner, and Farlan ended up sneezing really violently in his face. That merchant got so scared he must’ve jumped at least three feet in the air, and even managed to piss himself before he took off. We still had to finish him off later, but in that moment, when Farlan was mortified and our target was running for the hills because of a cat induced sneeze, I couldn’t help but laugh a little.”

(Y/N) had paused in her work to listen to him, and couldn’t help but smile when he finished his story. Going back to work, (Y/N) didn’t ask what happened to Farlan, not wanting to drag him back down after she had finally gotten him to talk to her, about something so personal no less.

“What about you?” Levi asked.

“Hmm, I think I’d have to say when I got my horse for my birthday,” (Y/N) said. “I was never around the horses, wasn’t allowed to be in the barn because it wasn’t “proper for a lady”. But I loved them, loved seeing them on the streets when other nobles would come visit my father or when the soldiers from the Survey Corps would come back from a mission. I couldn’t stay away, so no matter how much my father tried to squash my love of them, it just wouldn’t happen. My mother eventually convinced him to let it go, and surprised me with a little chestnut filly that I named Sashay when I was about sixteen years old. Now, she’s my best friend. We’ve been through everything together, and she’s the only one who doesn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. Aside from the royal guards, I guess. They learned a long time ago to stop trying to get me to sit still and look pretty when I beat all of them in the sword fighting ring.”

Levi’s brows shot up into his hair at that, his lips parting in surprise. “You know how to sword fight?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah, not what you were expecting, huh?”

“No,” Levi said. “I’ve never heard of a noble woman who could fight, let alone with a blade. Are you any good?”

“I tend to think so, but that all depends on who I’m up against,” (Y/N) said with a cheeky smile.

For some reason, Levi couldn’t help but smile back for the first time in years. His lips felt chapped and strained from disuse, but it felt good, a light feeling flooding his chest with warmth. “You said earlier that your horse’s name is Sashay,” Levi said, suddenly changing the topic.

“Mm hm.”

“That’s weird.”

(Y/N) giggled at his bluntness, making another fluttering feeling swirl in his chest. He had never met anyone other than Farlan who saw his language as something other than rude.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” (Y/N) said. “But I named her that because she is a sassy chestnut mare. I like to imagine that if she were human, she’d be someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, someone who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but would do so with a spicy attitude. So I named her accordingly.”

Levi huffed a laugh at her response but almost immediately regretted it when the movement of his chest caused the rough gauze at her fingertips to brush against his injuries a little harder than before, the stinging sensation making him hiss in pain.

“Sorry!” (Y/N) said, quickly retracting her hands and holding them up, waiting for him to give her the signal to continue.

“Not your fault,” Levi mumbled, motioning that it was alright for her to get back to work. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I said that before.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to do this.”

Levi wanted to ask her why but remembered what she had told him at the start of this and decided to trust her word, swallowing the question and instead changing topics. “Why do you even have this? Do you always just carry a first aid kit around?”

“Only when I come to the Underground. I want to have it available for those who really need it.”

“You do know that at least half of the people down here would kill you without a second thought to get to that medicine. Or they’d kill you if they thought you were pitying them.”

“I know, but I’d like to think I can handle myself a bit more than the average person. Even so, I usually keep it hidden unless I really want or need to use it on someone, and it’s only for quick patch-ups anyway. I can’t really fix anything major.”

(Y/N) finally finished with his front and carefully slid off of his thighs, moving slowly to begin working on his back. She made sure he was okay with everything she was doing before settling herself down onto the edge of the bed behind him, her hands reaching up to start her work once more.

Levi wanted to know more about her. He felt as if he could talk to her for hours, as if he had known her for years. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, what her vision was for the future. It was insane, so much so that Levi idly wondered if he’d fallen off the deep end. But he couldn’t deny it. She was just too intriguing, so surprisingly kind, so genuine.

What was your childhood like? What are your favorite things to do? Do you come down here often? When will I see you again?

The questions continued to rattle around in Levi’s head as they once again lapsed into a comfortable silence but he forced all of them back, not wanting to seem either too desperate to get to know her, or be seen as coming on too strong.

After debating with himself for a while, Levi finally settled on, “You’ve mentioned your father a lot, and how he doesn’t want you to be yourself.”

(Y/N) tensed a little, her face twisted in a grimace behind Levi’s back. “Yeah… he used to be better about it, but ever since my mother died, he’s been like a tyrant. He’s upset he didn’t get a son in the first place, but now that he’s stuck with me for a daughter, he’s even more disappointed that I’m not someone he can easily make profits off of by marrying me off to someone. Not only have I been adamant about not allowing it, but no nobleman wants a woman who can think for herself. A woman who can ride a horse, go toe to toe with her soldiers, has an opinion, and is knowledgeable about current conflicts. They want someone who will dress up all pretty for them and be in bed, ready to satisfy them when they get home from gambling and drinking all day while sitting on their parents’ money.”

Levi scoffed and (Y/N) huffed in agreement. “I’m just not that kind of person. Every suitor that has ever met me has run away from my casual attire and sailor’s mouth.”

“Your father wasn’t like this when your mother was alive?” Levi asked.

“He was, but he wasn’t as bad. My parents were in an arranged marriage, but they got along alright. At least my father loved my mother enough to listen to her most of the time when she told him to lay off of me. I honestly think she’s the reason why I have such a strong fighting spirit.”

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Levi said awkwardly, not used to providing words of comfort.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) said genuinely, a warm smile gracing her beautiful features.

“I didn’t know my mother that well,” Levi said haltingly, still unsure why he felt comfortable telling her about things he hadn’t even talked to Farlan about. “She died of a disease when I was four years old. She was a prostitute, like me, so I never knew my father. When she died, I was picked up by a man named Kenny, who I thought might’ve been my father for a short while, but as I grew older, I realized he wasn’t. I don’t have any proof, I just know. When he abandoned me at ten, I was alone for a few years before I met Farlan.”

“So… you didn’t get stuck doing this because of your mother?” (Y/N) asked carefully, almost afraid to ask in case it made him shy away from her.

“No,” Levi said slowly. “I was twenty years old when I was caught stealing from a rich friend of this brothel owner. I had made a mistake and there was no way out. He figured out who I was, a thug who was known at the time for carrying out favors for people, whether that meant stealing or killing depended on how much they were willing to pay. Unfortunately, this led them to Farlan, and he gave me a choice. Me, or my best and only friend.”

“And you chose to save your friend at the expense of yourself,” (Y/N) finished for him in a hoarse whisper, filled with horror and unbridled fury at what this man had been through. She figured she should’ve been alarmed, he had just admitted that he had blood on his hands. He was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a murderer. But (Y/N) knew those things were nearly requirements for living in the Underground and no matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anything that would make this man deserve what he was going through.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something just as she put the last bandage in place when a loud pounding on the door startled them both. “Time’s up, you two!” The brothel owner shouted through the door.

(Y/N) shot up from the bed and rushed around to where the water and first aid kit sat, quickly packing up the little box of supplies and splashing her face with water, trying to make herself look sweaty enough to look convincing. Once everything had been packed away, (Y/N) stood and shrugged off her leather jacket, throwing it to him.

“Here, take this, it’ll keep your boss from seeing the bandages and trying to get rid of them. It’ll also give your injuries a little more protection from the bacteria in this room.”

Levi wanted to refuse, tell her he couldn’t accept a gift like this, even if it was temporary, but no words would come out as he watched the beautiful woman in front of him mess up her hair and swipe her fingers across her lips, trying to make herself look as wrecked as possible. When she finally looked the part enough to seem convincing, (Y/N) made her way to the door, turning one last time before she opened it to throw him a wink and a sweet smile.

“~Goodbye Levi, I hope we can see each other again soon.”

The lilt in her voice was fake, an act for anyone who may be listening on the other side of the door, meant to be taken as a sickly promise of more sexual endeavors to come, but he could feel the genuine emotion in her statement.

“I hope so too,” Levi said quietly after she had already left, the once comforting quiet of his room now making him feel lonely and empty.

The sound of pounding on his door woke Levi abruptly, making the raven-haired man growl in anger and annoyance. It was rare that the poor man got to sleep, not only because customers could come in at almost any time, day or night, but also because of the horrible insomnia that often plagued him. It made him even more irritable to be woken up, his body sore and his mind groggy as another round of pounding roused him further and prompted him to swing his legs over the side of the small cot he was provided when not busy fucking, and make his way to the door.

“What?” Levi snapped when he swung open the door, genuinely surprised that the pig who owned him hadn’t just burst into his room like he always did, raving about yet another customer for Levi.

“Get your shit, you’re going to the surface.”

Levi blinked. This had to be some kind of joke. The brothel owner never let anyone under his foot leave the brothel, let alone the Underground. Even the highest class noble women couldn’t request for him to come to them, the old man not trusting his prostitutes to be sent back. Especially Levi.

“Oi, your ears gone to shit now? Grab your pathetic bullshit and get out of my sight,” the man snarled, his small, watery eyes narrowed on Levi like he was the scum of the world.

Shaking himself out of it, Levi didn’t hesitate for another moment, rushing back into his room to grab the pitifully few things he had with him, including the leather jacket he had gotten from (Y/N), draping it over his shoulders to hide his healing injuries just in case it was a trick. The festival was still going on afterall, this could just be some ruse the old man set up to make the experience more interesting for the men and women who paid for him.

When Levi returned, the man pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and jerked his head, signaling Levi to follow him. Levi knew better than to risk running. In his full health he could’ve easily escaped from the man’s clutches, but with little more than a half hour of rest, his injured body, weak muscles, and the remnants of the drugs still working through his system, Levi didn’t trust himself to outrun a bullet, and knew the pig wouldn’t hesitate to fire, no matter how valuable Levi was to him. 

Even though Levi kept expecting the brothel owner to turn down a secluded street and lead him right into an ambush or trick of some sort, he never did, leading Levi right to the stairs exiting the Underground. When they reached the guards at the base of the stairs, the man took two slips of paper from the inner pocket of his worn brown coat and showed it to the guard. When he was cleared to continue on, the brothel owner turned and motioned for Levi to stay close as he stomped his way up the stairs, grumbling incoherently to himself all the while.

Breaching the surface, Levi brought an arm to his face, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun as it attacked his face with warm, bright light. He eventually got used to it, slowly lowering his arm and rushing to catch up with his boss, who was impatiently grunting for him to hurry up.

Passing through what appeared to be a busy market square, Levi followed the brothel owner along the lively cobblestone streets until they reached a quieter part of the town, stopping along the edge of a beautiful flower field, the grassy meadow filled with colorful blossoms that secretly took Levi’s breath away.

The sound of horse hooves caught his attention, and Levi looked up only to have the air fly from his lungs when (Y/N)’s bright face came into view, the stunning woman seated astride whom he assumed to be Sashay and flanked by two armed men.

“Right on time,” the brothel owner grumbled, his little pig eyes narrowing when he saw her passive aggressive smile.

“Of course I’m on time, this is my deal, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man growled. “Are you sure you want this one? He’s my most popular, I’d hate to lose him.”

“Yes, he’s the one I want. Besides, I believe the money I’ve paid you has far exceeded the profit you have earned from having him around. I’m sure you will be able to manage.”

The man sneered at her but didn’t respond, using the muzzle of the gun to push Levi forward and digging in his pocket to fish out the same pieces of paper he had shown the guards on the stairs, handing them to (Y/N).

“Thank you, sir. I believe we are done here.”

The brothel owner slunk off, casting dark looks at her but refusing to argue as he hunkered off to head back down to the Underground, where he would continue to rot like the rat he was. Levi watched him go before turning to (Y/N), surprised by the bright smile she flashed him when he met her gaze.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

(Y/N) smiled even wider and held up the pieces of paper she had been handed. One of them was the file labeling him as a slave to the brothel owner, keeping him from escaping, and the other was a bill of sale. His eyes widened when he saw her signature on the bottom of both pages, officially registering her as his new owner. He opened his mouth, about to speak when she took both pages in her hands and ripped them in half, letting the torn pages float onto the street below, forgotten, useless.

“There, you’re free now.”

Levi was at a loss for words, his mouth gaping open. “(Y/N)? What-”

“Before you ask me what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your life, your sacrifice, your pain, and I decided I could do something about it. You are human, and damn it, you are an important one! I couldn’t just leave you there. Now, you won’t have to work for anyone but yourself. You won’t have to cater to anyone else’s needs and you can fulfill whatever dreams you have.”

“But, that must’ve cost you a fortune, to cover more than the amount of money he’s made off of using me? What about-”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Levi. I want to use my funds for good, put them towards the people who need it the most. That includes you. Especially you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to stay in that shit hole for even a second longer than necessary.”

“What do I do now, then?” Levi asked, trying to focus on keeping his voice steady.

“Well, you can do whatever you want now. You’re a free man, you can find a house and settle down somewhere, or you can go back to the Underground and pick up your life where you left off. You can join the military, or you can start a small business here in the square. It’s anything you want. You get to choose your life now.”

“And what if I don’t want to do any of those things?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face then, her heart filling with warmth. “Like I said, it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want, carve your own path, but if you want to come with me, you’re always welcome to.”

Levi’s lip twitched and he took a step forward, reaching up to pat Sashay’s muzzle as he got closer. “Alright, I’ll follow you.”

(Y/N) beamed before turning around to nod at each one of her guards, dismissing them. When they had left, presumably returning to (Y/N)’s family estate, she reached down for him, her hand extended for him to take. Placing his rough palm into her warm hand, he allowed her to help him up into the saddle behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep himself secure as (Y/N) kicked Sashay into an easy canter. Sighing blissfully, Levi let himself relax, his chin coming down to rest on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they made their way home, together.

Levi had never expected to see the day when he would willingly go with a noble, but then again, he never thought he’d ever meet a noble like (Y/N). Now, as he felt her warmth soak into his chest, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Levi finally felt the remnant effects of the drugs in his system fade away as the sun beams broke through the fluffy clouds in the sky, leaving his mind clear. He was making this decision all on his own, nothing left to impair his judgement, and no matter what, he knew he would never regret the path he chose to take just so long as (Y/N) stayed by his side.

[lemonjoonah]

Blood Bounty - Part 1 (M)

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 10K Rating: M Genre: Historical fantasy AU, Vampire AU, Thriller, Drama, Smut Warnings: Non-consensual vampire feeding (graphic, provocative, sexual, blood play, and twisted as fuck), captivation/enslavement, blood, drugging (force feeding vampire blood), obsession, violence, PTSD, at one point the OC pleads for death, it’s dark guys you’ve been warned. While the vampire feeding in this part is highly sexualized, I do have somewhat more “traditional” smut scenes planned for part 2 and 3.

| Series Masterlist |

Summary: He’s taken everything from you, your blood, your memories, your life, and after months spent as Taehyung’s own personal feast, you eagerly take your chance to flee. Unfortunately your escape doesn’t go as well as you had hoped, as you are soon caught by another blood thirsty beast. The vampire Yoongi claims to know you, and that he wishes to return you home. But when you can only remember the pain caused by his kind, you find it difficult to trust him, since he too could just be another monster waiting to feed.

A/N: This mini-series is a loose retelling of Anastasia, you’ll find it to be very different from the animated film. I attempted to blend both the history and the story together in a new historical fantasy world that is not our own. Anyway I hope you enjoy the start to my three part twisted tale, and if you have any questions at the end please feel free to send them my way! Also a big thank you to my beta readers @m00nchild-shi​ and @ladyartemesia​. This story wouldn’t have made it this far without you!

This story is dedicated to all of those who have lost themselves to a monster (of any form) at some point in their life. I know the journey back to yourself can be hard, but trust me, you are worth every effort. 

...  

From the break of dawn you’ve crossed miles of ground, traversing through grassy fields and deep rivers. Accompanied only by the clothes on your back, a stake in your hand, and a pair of boots far too big for your feet, all stolen during your hastened departure. 

You consider yourself lucky after making it out unseen. Lucky that Taehyung had left his fortress of a castle, lucky that he took most of his capable progenies with him, lucky that the underling who tended to your room left the fire iron within your reach, and lucky that it was able to break the chain of the shackle fastened around your wrist. You left as soon as daylight broke. With everything working in your favour for your escape, even acquiring your captor’s clothes and cap to pass off as a young man. For sightings of a woman travelling alone might tip off those you would rather avoid.  

But now, with your heels raw and bloody, it would seem that your good fortune has finally run out, as the smell will no doubt attract his hunters. You curse your carelessness, for the number of times Taehyung has complimented you for your most potent scent. You’ve witnessed it yourself, a single whiff of your blood during his feedings having sent several of his men into a frenzy. This unfortunate blessing left you to be seen as a bounty, condemning you to his captivity, and now the struggle as you flee for your life. 

You attempt to clean the broken skin and stem the flow with strips torn from your tunic. The fine piece of clothing is barely recognizable after the paces you’ve put it through today. With the extra fabric now wedged into your boots you can only hope that it’ll make your journey tomorrow easier, and detain much of the scent that would allow them to track you. 

You wish that you could continue on tonight, but the darkness of the wood, your sores, and your fatigue impede your plans. You’ve gained ground but the lack of settlements must mean that you still lie within his realm. With your memories stolen in an effort to keep you at his side you have little to go on but a tapestry that hung in his den. It showed a city to the east, beyond the boundary of his land, and what is hopefully your home. But with the woven display having no proper scale you have no idea how long it will take to actually leave his territory. Freedom could be hours or days away.  You can only hope that the rivers you’ve traversed will keep them at bay until you can find a safer place to stay. Their weaknesses are all you have to lean on to prevent recapture, but will it be enough?

After tending to your feet you settle in the nook of a tree, leaning your head against the mossy trunk. Your stomach growls but you have no food to feed it, nor a blanket to dismiss the chilling wind which forces a shiver from you. Your deflated spirit is made even worse when a raven takes notice of your poor state. It circles overhead, undoubtedly looming with the hopes that you have given in, and that he too can feast on you. 

Ignoring the omen, you close your eyes, directing your focus instead on the surrounding sounds of the forest, listening for anything that might be a predator making an approach. Despite an exhausting day you still are wary of sleep, knowing what will greet you as you drift off, and concern of someone, or something catching up to you once you do. You rest there for what must be an hour, debating with yourself the advantages slumber, before you hear the snap of a nearby twig. Your fingers drift to the wooden stake on the ground next to you, your movement is slow hoping to escape the notice of whatever might be drawing closer. The footsteps which crunch on the leaves continue to advance on your position. There’s no running now, all you can do is play ignorance until they are in range for you to act.

When a hand reaches down and tilts the brim of your hat, you open your eyes, driving your weapon up in an aim to strike, but your assailant is too quick for you. He catches your arm in an iron grip, much like the remains of the manacle that still holds your other wrist. Though his face is hidden by the dark of night and his frame draped in a long coat, there is no doubt about what he is, and what he’s come for, his speed in stopping you was far too fast to be human.

“Be still,” the monster growls. “It’s me, Yoongi. Are you hurt?”

His concern is almost laughable. His implication of a connection likely a trap, one intent on luring you in, with a motive to end the hunt. “Not if you leave me be.” You attempt to press the stake towards him still, but he barely even registers your efforts. 

“Have you forgotten me?” The beast’s grip tightens on your arm as he dismisses your threat, taking the stake in his own hand before he pulls you up while he continues his deception, “I know that to be what I asked for, but I didn’t think... no, it matters not. ” He shakes his head as his words trail off. His voice then returns resolute and firm once he changes thoughts. “Come, we must get you somewhere safe.”

You dig your heels into the ground as he attempts to pull you along, clawing at his fingers until they release you. “I’m not going anywhere with you vampire. You will not take me back to him, anywhere is safer than there.”

“I am not taking you back, but we must leave. They’ve already placed a large bounty on you and these parts will be flooded with hunters soon.” 

“How can I be sure you’re not one of those hunters?” You make an attempt to retake the stake, showing you have no intention of complying with him. But he pulls it back, holding it just out of your grasp.

“You will have to take me at my word, I am not of Taehyung’s kin and I have no plans on handing you back over to him. Now if you please, I can either escort you to safety, or take you there by force.”

“I don’t trust you.” You glare back at him.

“Very well,” the vampire sighs, tossing your wooden weapon aside, putting it far beyond your reach. He then bends down, throwing you easily over his shoulder, and thereby ending the argument over your fate. Your fists collide with his back several times in an effort to make him release you, but he doesn’t appear bothered by the attack. You draw breath ready to call out when he stops you with a quick jostle. His shoulder lays into your abdomen knocking the wind from your lungs. “You may hit me all you want, but do not scream. I would rather not alert others to our location.”

Could he really not be someone sent by Taehyung’s underlings? Regardless, even if he is, you don’t have the strength to over power him. There’s little you can do but lay like a rag doll propped over his shoulder, with his arm hooked on the back of your knees. 

He hauls you over to a break in the trees, one which leads out to the road where a horse waits patiently for him. You’re thankful when he seats you on the saddle rather than throwing you on your stomach once again. With the full light of the moon on the open dirt road, you’re finally able to see his face properly. His soft and sombre expression is a drastic difference compared to Taehyung’s sharp features and cruel grin.

“Are you going to behave now princess?”

Your eyes widen with terror in response to his last word uttered. You immediately try to pull away to put as much distance as you can between you and him, but he holds you firm in the saddle. The confining grip matching the memories of the name he has just called you all too well. Your breathing comes in short panicked waves as your hand moves to conceal the scar on your neck. You can’t go back, you won’t go back, you refuse to endure that supposed term of endearment anymore. 

“Prin-” The vampire tries again to elicit a response from you, only this time you cut him off. Your fear turning to anger unwilling to tolerate another lie from his lips. 

“If you are not one of Taehyung’s clan then tell me, why do you address me in that manner?”

“You don’t know why I call you princess?” He gazes upon you, his eyes narrowed in confusion as you recoil once again. This time he takes your hand, which bears the weight of both the iron shackle and bitten brand, to hold you still. When you wince from the pressure of his touch, he looks down to examine the sensitive spot. His jaw stiffens as he finds the source of the pain. “What has he done to you?” He whispers softly as his fingers trail over the wound on your palm. 

...

“Open up princess, I have a gift for you,” Taehyung orders, standing over you as you sit on his desk. Gripping your jaw, while your lips remain sealed in defiance. “I said open.” His hand tightens, forcing your mouth to unfasten and expel a cry of pain. He presses the bloody tip of his finger to your tongue, dragging his index from the back to the front coating it with the thick fluid. “Now swallow.”

Your mouth begins to salivate with the intrusion of his blood. You know if you take it in you will lose everything once again, you’ll lose the will you’ve been building back up to defy him. He is never truly out of your system, you still have gaps in yourself, but the need to disobey always has its way of creeping back to you first. To be forced back into obedience within your own body and mind is nothing short of torture. 

You refuse to allow him to drag you back to the dark willingly, spitting your saliva along with his blood into his smug expression.

Taehyung chuckles darkly as he wipes his face with the back of his hand. “You’re right my princess. How could I think that only a drop would be enough to dispel your greed? You deserve more.” 

This time he bites into his hand allowing the blood to pool, while the other takes hold of your neck. The dripping flesh of his palm covers your gasping mouth. Your head is tilted back by his grasp as the blood drains down the back of your throat. 

“You will keep this down. You will accept my control. Every time you look at yourself you will think of me. When you close your eyes you will dream of me, for you can not run away only toward. You will remember nothing before me, and nothing before the night I bestow you with this.” His thumb passes over a three month old scar on your neck, continuing to mark it as the cornerstone of the earliest memory you possess.

Every week without fail he reweaves his bonds inside you, tending to them as a doting hunter with a valued prey. He takes his fill of you in between, sometimes it’s only a taste and others a full meal. Treating his desk as a dining table and you the feast, placing you down upon it for his consumption. 

“I will have to leave you weak in the knees today princess if I must go without you for a fortnight.” His finger catches a drop of blood that escapes your mouth running it back along your lips before his hand moves away and down, trailing deep red lines down the skin of your jaw and neck. “I’m sorry to leave, but there are some pressing matters which I must attend to.” He portrays a look of sorrow, but you know better than to believe that he can possess a single human emotion.  “You’ll be good while I’m gone won’t you? Shall I give you something to remember me by? Another mark unhealed for you to see? You can watch as it slowly means, knowing that I’ll be back to tear you open again.” 

He lifts your hand to his face with his own bloody fingers. How you wish you could slap him away, but your body refuses to move on your behalf, after consuming his blood it yields only to him.  

He does not hesitate before sinking his teeth into the base of your palm. Matching his own wound that he inflicted on himself, but as yours grows deeper, his begins to heal. He takes a long draft before releasing in a pant. Your blood acts like a drug to his system, making him as he so often puts it, ‘Feel alive again.’ 

He wipes his palm on yours allowing the breach to clot, he doesn’t mend it completely, instead leaving the painful imprint of his teeth, branding you anew, just as promised. “Appetizer, now entree Princess,” he mutters as he moves on, shifting to cradle your head and neck in his arms. You attempt to pull away, but that only forces him to issue the command, “Stay still.” 

His face hovers over the pulse of your neck, with you now frozen beneath. His fangs are careful not to dive too deep, retracting just as the blood begins to trickle from your throat. It collects in the well of your collar and trails down your chest, seeping beneath the bodice of your dress. The white fabric of your garment starts to bloom with scarlet. He could have chosen a gown of darker cloth for your personal wear, one that would be less prone to display the gruesome patterns of his actions, but he prefers to see the art of your suffering, your clothes and body becoming a canvas for his great masterpiece. He mutters how beautiful it looks while his fingers add to the display, painting a ruby-red choker around your neck using the blood as a stain.

His eyes linger taking in the sight before he moves in again to collect the flow, lapping it off your skin like a beast amidst a drought. You cringe as his tongue crosses your flesh, relentless in its desire to gather every drop it can. And just when you think he’s finished it makes another pass, accompanied by a growl and another sharp nip.

Unlike your hand, he completely remedies the gash on your neck, leaving only the one scar upon your throat from his first feeding. The loss starts to hit you, your skin turning cold like his, your breathing shallow, and your pulse quick. You hope that might be the end, that he has had his fill and needs no more, but his hand then fastens on your leg having pushed up the hem of your skirt and thin petticoat. “Let me in princess, I still have room left for dessert.” His teeth skim across the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh mapping his preferred spot from your pained twitches. 

You whimper as he clamps down for his last bite. The only solace you can take is that he will not be here for two weeks. You have more time without him feeding, time to gain back control, and time to escape. You stare off to the woven tapestry map behind him, not knowing where to go but longing to be anywhere but here.

...

“D-don’t call me that.” Your demand catches and cracks at the back of your throat.

“But it’s what you are-”

“I am not his dinner, I am not his slave, and I am most certainly not his princess! I will not go back. If you have any mercy, please... drain me here. For I am far more willing to meet death, than I am to see him again. ”

To your confusion he looks shocked that you would even suggest such an act. He takes a moment before looking into your eyes with a narrowed gaze, “You don’t remember anything do you? It’s not just me you’ve forgotten.” 

You shake your head, unable to meet his eyes, “I remember nothing before him.” 

The vampire holds what’s left of the iron shackle in his hands, bending it apart with only his grip, freeing you from it’s clutches. 

There's another sigh from him as he takes the space on the saddle behind you. His body is uncomfortably close to yours, with his breath on your neck, and arms wrapped on either side to take the reins. “And I thought he could sink no lower...” He urges the horse forward with a nudge and a few mumbled words far too low for you to hear. “You are right, you are not his meal, nor his property, but it is not simply a given moniker to which I am referring, it’s what you are. You are the only living heir of a human kingdom just east of here.” 

“You lie, there is no way I could be,” This is just another game of his. It has to be. “If I am what you say, how could I have ended up where I was?” 

“You went missing, disappearing from your bed in the night. Your people assume that you were kidnapped, that you were taken by a monster, not knowing what we are. But I assure you, you are the lost pr-” He stops as you stiffen once again. “I can take you home, back to your family, back to your people, if that’s what you wish.” 

“And why would you do that?”

“I broke a promise long ago, I plan to remedy that mistake.” 

“I fail to see how that applies to me.” You mutter as you slump down in the saddle, no longer fighting your current fate. This vampire too can easily overpower you, he can take you wherever he desires to go, but as long as it’s away from Taehyung you have no wishes to slow him down.

He pulls a skin of water from his horse’s pack offering it to you. Your dry mouth wants to empty it in one swig, but the possibility of what else it could contain holds you back. You turn your nose up instead fearing that he’s drugged it with his own blood. 

“I have not tampered with it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“You keep assuming your words carry weight with me. I will need more than that if I am to drink this.”

“If I intended to manipulate you with blood I would have done so already instead of fighting to get you on the horse.” 

He’s right, it would have been far easier. You take a careful sip rolling over your tongue, trying to detect even the slightest taste of iron before your swallow. 

He holds out food too, in the form of a few pieces of dried meat. Your mouth waters at the sight. The unaltered drink gives you the confidence to abandon your worries and take it, asking more questions while you eat. “You said I forgot you, but how was it that I knew you Yoo-” You pause trying to recall the name he led with when he found you. 

“Yoongi.”

You wait for more but he doesn’t continue, after swallowing your current mouthful you press further. “Are you not going to tell me?”

“It would be better if you remembered.”

“You expect me to trust you, but then you hide truths?” 

“I expect you to trust me because I want you to recall your truth of our encounters, not mine. When you do I will gladly discuss it with you, but not until then.” His tone is stern, boasting an air of finality to his argument.  

You huff back in frustration. “Can you at least tell me how long you’ve known me?”

“More than ten years now, you were a child of fourteen when we first met.”

“So you must know my name? My real name?” You ask with near excitement, hoping it might stir up some of your past within you.

“I do.” But as he recalls it, whispering the name for you to hear, nothing happens. You thought when you heard it again that everything would come back all at once like a spell broken by one magical word. But the name that comes from Yoongi’s lips has no meaning to you, no memory, no warmth. It bestows only a cold emptiness, a fear that you’ll never quite be able to bind yourself together with the person who bore that name before. 

...

Hours later Yoongi pulls his horse off the path and into the woods, trotting down what looks to be an overgrown trail. You finally come to a stop in front of a mound, backed by an elevation of stone and earth, bearing a small cave-like entrance.

“What is this?”  

“An old mining site. We’ll have to stop here for now.” Yoongi helps you down off the horse before removing the tackle and taking the large pack, he ties his steed up with a long lead on a grassy patch. Once finished you follow him through the dark and into the cavern, lagging a few paces behind with your legs stiff and sore from the night’s travel.

“But there’s still another hour or two until the sunrise. Why stop here?”  

“Because this is the last dark space that’s marked for the next fifteen miles.” He opens one of the bags pulling out a lantern, he lights it, dousing the cold and damp walls of the cave in a warm glow. Taking out a thick piece of paper next, he unfolds it with careful precision, laying it gently across a leather pack. He acts as though it’s a precious heirloom passed on to him from a loved one long gone. Your heart starts to race upon realization that it’s a map, and how with it’s aid you’d be able to find your own way home.  

Dark circles on the heavy parchment denote what according to the key is a resting spot. He opens it further pointing to both your current position and destination, your fingers tracing over a kingdom which he says is yours. With still three times the distance you’ve travelled yet to traverse, much of your contentment fades. 

Despite the blow to your morale, you continue your examination of the map, hoping to learn as much from it as you can. It’s beautifully intricate and precisely made, the only flaw is an ink smudge in the lower left hand corner, which appears to be a faint mirror image of the compass rose on the right. Likely the result of the map being folded before the ink had completely dried. You run your index over the blot feeling much the same. A partial imprint of your past life, and a great distance away from what you must have been. 

Yoongi watches you with a keen eye as you attempt to commit your future route to memory. “Does it look at all familiar to you?”

“No, I remember nothing of this land.” Not the names of rivers or cities return to you. How can you call a place home if you know nothing of it? “Thank you for your assistance. I know you have to stop, but after seeing this I feel that I should keep going.” You offer cordially, praying that he’ll agree to parting ways here. 

“Oh no you don’t. You’ll stay here until the sun sets, and we’ll continue together.”

“Why should I? If the sun is out I’m not at risk from vampires.”

“It is still a while before we reach your kingdom. You can see that can’t you? At least two more nights where you would be alone if I let you leave. Not to mention the risk from your own brethren. You haven’t been among other humans enough to know that they can be just as malicious.”

“Then give me your horse and I’ll out ride them.”

“When was the last time you rode a horse on your own?” He asks lowering his brow, scoffing as his tongue pokes at the side of his cheek. 

“I-I...” Naturally you can’t remember, and he knows it. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yes of course you’ll be fine, it’s not like there will be vampires nipping at your heels the whole way home. Do you know I could smell the blood trailing from your feet a mile away? I can’t imagine they are in a good state. If the horse were to unseat you and run off, would you even be able to continue?”

You wince at the thought of treading forward on foot. The blisters are already a source of great agony, it’s painful to think what they would be like after another mile or two. 

Yoongi notices the show of discomfort in your face,  “Looks like you’ll be staying with me then your highness.”

“I’d rather not...” You're grateful he’s stopped calling you by the other title, but that still doesn’t prove his loyalty. “Why are you so insistent on taking me home? What’s in this for you?”

“Your company.”

“I am serious,” you groan, casting a dark glare back at him over the candle light.

“So am I.” He mutters his response, it’s so quiet you almost miss it.

“You are insufferable! I should be taking advantage of the daylight, I should be putting more distance between myself and his prison. You should have left me there in the forest so I wouldn’t have to deal with your so-called assistance.”

“Forgive me for wanting to keep you alive and safe. It must be truly awful to have someone come to your aid.”

“You are not someone, you’re a vampire,” you bite back against his sarcasm. “I take no pleasure in being in the company of your kind.”

Yoongi sighs looking defeated, following it with an odd request. “Give me your hand, the one with the wound.”

“Why?” You clutch your palm to your chest in defence. 

“I’ll mend it properly for you, your heels too if you’d like. I want to help undo the damage that my kind has done to you. He should never have left you scarred like that.”

“He shouldn’t have fed off me in the first place!” You shout back your voice echoing off the walls.

“You’re right,” Yoongi levels with you. “But I can’t imagine you want to keep it.”

“I don’t, but I also don’t want help from you! I would rather carry this than any more of your poison. So you can keep your blood to yourself.”

“As you wish,” Yoongi responds, yet he still shifts towards you, encouraging you to back away and keep the space between you. 

“I’m not going to...” His tone sounds exasperated but soon changes to a softer register as he looks at your terror ladened face. “Just, take this.” Yoongi passes over a bed roll before pulling one out for himself from the woven pack. 

You stare at the bedding, questioning it, the convenience of such an item along with supplies all seem too good to be true. “Why would someone who travels alone have a second? Why would a vampire have a stash of water he can’t drink, and food he can’t eat?” 

“I brought them for you. I knew you would need them on the journey.” His answer comes off as thoughtful, but the explanation still doesn’t sit right with you, surely there can be no rational reason as to why he was so ready for your escape.

“You expect me to swallow your perfect timing? That you just happened to be in the right place at the right time, ready to play the role of saviour-”

“Who said the timing was perfect? It has been anything but ideal,” Yoongi growls cutting you off. “I have been trying to get you back ever since I learned that you were taken. But we have limitations that prevented me from just storming his castle. A vampire can not enter the home of another without permission. I tried to get you, believe me I did. While you were trapped inside for five years, I was kept outside for just as long. But I have always been prepared to leave with you at a moment's notice.” 

You were ready to continue your argument again just as he was to finish, but one of his last reveals disarms you with an all too unpleasant fact. “H-how long did you just say?”

“Five years?”

“No... that’s not possible, I can’t remember more than a few months.”

“Prin- your highness.” Yoongi catches himself as you turn to panic.

“Please don’t tell me that he held me for years.” You panicked whispers become sobbing pleas, you would gladly take the lie now. The thought of more tortures of imprisonment lying just below the surface of your memory is enough to make you want to do away with your entire past. Blindly tossing it all away and building it all anew, if only it worked that way.    

“It’s been years, I’m so sorry, but you’ve been with- you’ve been missing for half a decade.” 

“Why? Why would he take that too?” You whisper stand up clutching the scar on your neck, the mark you thought to be the first was likely a only a sequel to many. How many more lie hidden in your skin, healed and masked his blood?  Feeling a pull to leave, you stumble towards the mining shaft’s entrance, unable to take another minute beside a monster who could do the same. Yoongi grabs you from behind, wrapping his hands around your waist to prevent you from progressing any further outside. You strain against him determined to go back out into the open air.  “No, let me go.”

“I can’t do that, your highness.”  

You turn into him pushing against his chest as you shout. “Let me go Yoongi.” He doesn’t stop you from shoving, or cursing him out. He just stands there holding tight as you take out your loss on him. 

“If I were to do that his hunters would find you,” Yoongi warns. “Is that what you want? Because I’m not ready to lose you to him again...” The last of his sentiment drifts off as if he’s said too much. His grip loosens to the point where you can slip away. As much as you want to turn out and run towards the sun he’s right, you can't risk losing another five years or maybe more. He nods down to the bed roll abandoned on the ground. “You should get some rest, you’ll need it for the journey tomorrow.” 

You obey, taking the bedding and lantern, wandering back farther into the cave and further away from the vampire. Slipping off your boots you find the cloth you had wedged in earlier caked with blood. You glance over to your nocturnal companion seeing if the reveal had any effect on him, but he’s already lying down, his back towards you, paying no attention. Desperate to dispose of the temptation you hold the two strips of fabric above the lantern flame. Fortunately they are dry enough to burn, leaving only ashen traces of the linen scraps. You redress your wounds with more fabric from your garment, but before curling under the blankets for the day you take one last precaution. With numerous broken branches littering the floor of the cave, you take the most jagged and sturdy, tucking in by your side. The sharp twig is not quite a stake, but a better defence than nothing at all.

...

Even after travelling all day and night with little rest it takes an age for you to fall asleep, not because of the hard ground, not due to the pain in your legs, nor the questionable motives of your new guard, but the knowledge of who you’ll see once you do. Although Taehyung’s blood has lost control of your physical movements, his hold on your mind is still tight. You know you’ll see him when you drift off, but your exhaustion is unwavering and your need of rest undeniable.  

It seems like only moments after you close your eyes that you’re reunited. He lies there beside you back in his castle, with his own eyes closed, his face content with a small smile as though he’s just fed. But on this night, something’s different. You finally feel as though you have the power to fight back against him. The stake you had stolen from his collection, and promptly lost to the forest, found again by your side. You’ve always wanted this moment, taking vengeance on the one who put you through hell. Even if it is only a dream you’ll embrace it though reality.

Mere inches away from his chest your hand is stopped by his. His eyes fly open and he tackles you back. “Killing me won’t grant you freedom, it won’t stop others from coming for you.”

“Then let them come,” you sneer back at him. “For any life without you Taehyung will be a vast improvement, no matter how short or perilous.” 

There’s a quizzical look on his face, his thumb pushing into your palm trying to get you to realise the stake, “Wake up your highness, it’s not what you think.” 

You are pulled from the dream to find yourself with your pitiful excuse for a weapon in hand. Pointing it at Yoongi’s heart as he hovers over you. You drop it quickly, and attempt to slide out from beneath him out of fear of retaliation. “I thought you were him.” 

He places a heavy hand on your shoulder preventing any further retreat on your part. “I figured that to be the case. Do you have these dreams often?” His tone is not angry, but concerned.

You relax with his understanding, “Every night, he made sure it was so.”

“I know it won’t mend the past, but I’m sorry... for what he’s done to you.”

“I’m sorry I attacked you...” 

“I can’t blame you for that,” Yoongi admits with a curling smile on his lips. “If I looked at myself and saw Taehyung I would respond in the same manner.”

You let out a small chuckle, leading to a surprised expression on Yoongi’s face. His smirk soon turns into a sad smile. “I want you to know, when you are with me, you are safe. No one will feed from you, no one will touch you, myself included.”

...

You wake to the sound of a raven in the early evening, the deep croaks of the bird carrying through the mine. Keeping your head down you glance with narrowed eyes to spy on the vampire who currently ties a small roll of parchment to the leg of the dark creature. It waits patiently on his knee until the knot is firmly in place, letting out another loud cry once Yoongi’s hand retreats. 

“I suppose you’ll be wanting more then?” Yoongi takes his index, and presses it down onto one of his sharp teeth, allowing a bead of blood to form on the tip. The raven then takes his finger into his beak and tilts his head back as it feeds on the red droplets. You start to gag at the sight, alerting Yoongi to your awakened state. The bird takes flight as your escort gets up to check on you, but as he comes closer you draw back. He pauses after his first couple steps, and asks from a distance instead. “Are you alright?”

“Why did you feed it your blood?” You heave again at the thought, but with little in your stomach there is nothing to come up.

“He’s delivering a letter for me. The blood is his reward; it keeps him healthy, but it also allows me to convey where he needs to go and who he needs to find.” 

“It’s disgusting.”

“The raven is more than happy to take it as payment for his service. But I know of what you mean, when the exchange is done improperly...” Yoongi pauses as another wave of nausea overwhelms you again, “Forgive me, I thought you were asleep, I didn’t know you would be watching.”

“What were you sending?”

“Notice to my clan. I left my surveillance post, they will wish to know why.”

“Will that be a problem?” You hadn’t considered groups other than Taehyung’s, but if you can avoid interaction with them all the better.

“No, returning you home will be a greater blow to Taehyung. He has likely built a dependence on your blood and without you he’ll be left in a far weaker state. We might finally have a chance to diminish his hold on the region.” Yoongi takes a brief glance to the entrance and starts to pack away his supplies. “You should ready yourself to leave. The sun is almost down.”

You climb out from your bed roll to find that in the night the blood had seeped through the new makeshift bandage. Yoongi clenches his teeth, and makes another offer. “Please just let me heal them, you'll only need a drop.”

“That’s one drop too much.” You move back unsure if you should be more worried about Taehyung’s men tracking you down, or the more current and looming threat of the vampire in front of you. “Is this going to be a problem for you?” “No,” he confirms, however there’s a slight hesitation in his answer. “But you should go wash up before you lose all daylight, there’s a river just down hill.” He takes a kerchief from his pocket and places it on a rock between you. “You can have this if you’d like. I don’t have any bandages to offer, other than the treatment you find so distasteful.” 

You reach out and grab it. “You won’t be getting this back.” You eye him darkly. 

“That’s fine, just go clean them off before others who may be nearby take note of your aroma.” You observe him with caution, hesitating to pass by his threatening mouth to get to that of the cave’s. “Unless you want to stay and watch me eat.” He comments as he pulls out another soft flask which he carries in his jacket. You cringe as he holds in what is likely a stolen meal.

“What?” He fires back at your critical glare. 

“Do you drain all your victims into wine skins, or just those you wish to save for later?”

“The one who gave me this was not my victim. They were willing to part with it.”

“Willing?” You scoff. “I find that hard to believe. Are you sure you did not slip them some of your own blood first?”

“No I did not, but if you have a problem with how I conduct my feedings you only have yourself to blame.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Now hurry, so we can make use of this night.”

You do just that, darting past him you leave the mine heading down to the river in the fading sunlight.

...

As you return Yoongi is already outside and packing the horse. With his back to you he pulls an apple from the saddle bag, and the horse turns his head towards the treat with it’s mouth open and reaching. He pulls it back and away from the creature, “I know, I know this should have been yours, but you’ve had enough grass and she needs food. Do you mind sharing?” You watch as he rubs his steed behind the ear and it gives up on it’s want for the fruit. “Thanks, next one is yours, I promise.”

“Am I to thank you or the horse for my meal?” You call out to the vampire.

“You may thank him if you like.” Yoongi hands off the apple to you as you approach.

You can’t help smile as you stand in front of the massive and beautiful stallion letting him smell the back of your hand before you reach you pet the star on his forehead. “What is his name?” 

“Horse...” Yoongi admits. 

“Horse? Surely you jest. Why would you not give him a proper name?”

“He went for so long without one it just stuck.” Yoongi responds as he tightens the girth of the saddle. “What would you have named him?” 

“I’m not sure, but certainly not horse. You poor beast, first he deprives you of a suitable name, then an apple.” You take a few bites but with your stomach still queasy and unable to take anymore, you give the rest to the poorly named steed. Once the bridle and tackle are secure you mount up despite the instant outcry from your legs. You find Yoongi watching you, taking notice but remaining silent. You’re grateful for his lack of discourse, not wanting to have to explain the tenderness of your ass and thighs owing to yesterday’s travel. 

Regrettably, the aches become worse, and after only a couple hours of riding you’re barely able to stay upright. If Yoongi’s arms weren’t circling around you to keep hold of the reins you would have slid to the ground long ago. It seems that he’s no longer able to disregard your comfort though.  “Are you well?”

“Relatively speaking, yes.” You whisper holding in a groan.

“Relative to what?”

“Relative to a week ago.” To your time with Taehyung. You grimace further with each mounted stride.

“I think your scale is skewed. We’ll slow for a bit. Though you might think differently, I have no desire to see you in pain.” He slows his steed to a walk and dismounts, letting you lean back as he leads the horse forward. 

“This is nothing I promise. We should keep the pace up.”

“You wish to be rid of me so soon? Even if it causes you agony?”

“Yes.” Your short reply is enough to make him pause for a second, his face splitting into an open smirk before he continues again.  

“Though I appreciate your honesty, the horse could use a break too.” Yoongi chuckles darkly. “You’ll have to learn how to hold that tongue of yours again once you return to court.”

You take in a sharp breath as a chill runs down your spine. You’ve been so focused on what you are running from you haven’t given thought as what you are running too. “Do you know much about my family, about my life back home?”

“Some.”

“You said I was the last remaining heir. There must have been a time when that wasn’t the case.”

“Your brother...” Yoongi explains, his gaze fixed on the road. “He passed away a few weeks ago. He was very ill, had been all his life.”

You take a deep breath as you register the news, but it’s hard to properly grieve when you can’t recall what you lost. “I wish I could remember-” 

Yoongi must be taking pity on you as he delves further without your prompting. “You loved him very much, but you weren’t as close as you would have liked to have been. His ailment was unknown to many and it prevented him from spending much time with you.”

“How do you know that?” 

“Because you told me.” He whispers, finally meeting your eyes again.  

“Wh-what else do you know? Will you tell me?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Give it time and you’ll remember on your own. His hold won’t last forever.”

“I still don’t understand why you won’t say more.”

“Because I don’t want to give you a false sense of your past, only to find out later that it was different than I thought, than I hoped. Your affection for your brother was obvious, but with other focuses of your adoration I cannot be sure. So please do not ask much of me. You’ve gone through enough, I have no wish to plant false regard for things you did not actually love.” While Yoongi continues to look up to you his expression takes a sudden shift. His nose lifts into the air and takes a deep breath, before his head snaps back at the road ahead. “Humans... four of them.”

Your heart leaps at the prospect, but Yoongi cuts your anticipation short. “Don’t get too hopeful. They are currently trying to conceal themselves on the path ahead. I doubt their motives are well intended.” He reaches up to tuck a lock of hair that had fallen out from your cap. “Stay on the horse and keep quiet. I’ll deal with them.” 

“But-”

“For your own safety, please do what I ask.” 

The trees growing around the road are thick and dense, your eyes dart between the trunks in hopes to catch movement, but with the forest cloaked in darkness you have little ability to find anything. Minutes pass and just as you are about to question Yoongi, you spot a man with tattered clothes lying in the middle of the dirt road ahead. Thinking he might be a victim of the others mentioned, you make an attempt to dismount. But Yoongi holds your hand firmly on the reins, while he calls out to the casualty. “The wounded traveller? Do people still fall for that?”

There’s a moment of silence before a man emerges from the forest to the left. “You’d be surprised,” he responds, while two more appear on the right. 

The destitute wayfarer on the road gets up and dusts himself off. “It’s a shame you didn’t fall for our ploy, it’s much easier both for us and those who do, so much less blood.  You look to be worth the effort though. I’m sure we could fetch a pretty penny for a steed like that.”

The four close in ranks and advance. Yoongi stays by your side, eyeing their approach, he gives a warning. “For your sake, I hope there will be no blood involved.” 

“Is that a threat?” One of the highwaymen asks. “I should like to see how you plan on besting us without a blade. 

The man closest to you, with a dagger drawn, reaches out to grab hold of your leg. “Come down off the horse lad. There's no point in putting off the inevitable, it’s ours now.” In spite of his weapon you ready to kick the man off, but before your foot can lay into him his grip is torn away. In the blink of an eye Yoongi is on the other side of the horse forcing the assailant  to his knees with an arm behind his back. There’s a loud pop from the thief’s shoulder, resulting in a cry of pain. One of the other bandits charges to free his ally, his sword ready. Yoongi succeeds in dodging the initial thrust of the steel, and with one hand takes the saber, turning it instead on it’s owner. Your vampire escort issues another caution with the point at man’s throat. 

“If you would like your friend to keep use of his arm then I suggest you all back away.” While the disarmed thief retreats backward with his hands in the air, the rest are frozen in place refusing to move. “You think I jest?” Yoongi’s grip tightens while his captive lets out a shout. The little effort used on the vampires part to make the man submit finally prompts his fellows to take two steps back. “I swore to my companion that no one would touch them on this journey. You’ve made me break that promise, and I am not pleased.” There’s a deep growl to his voice that sends chills through even you. “I should take this limb in payment, and maybe one from each in your party too.”

“Yoongi....” You whisper in a low tone.

He turns back to you with a slight smirk. “But you are lucky, my friend prefers mercy. It’s far more than you deserve.” Yoongi lowers his head muttering into the bandits ear. “I’ll tell you what. You may keep your arm, but you and your men will abandon your camp, head south and keep walking. You will tell no one of us, and if I ever come across your path again I will not hesitate to act on my threats.”

Yoongi releases the man allowing him to scramble away as he clutches his shoulder. The other three support their injured cohort as they run off. 

Yoongi takes hold of the horse from the ground once again, leading you off the road. “Their camp it’s just this way. They might have had some supplies which will be of use to us.”

You only nod in response unsure of what to say, after what you just witnessed. The first humans you had interacted with in years, and here they intended to rob you. 

The smoke of their smouldering fire draws you in. Yoongi’s hunch was right, they had a good deal of useful items. Rations for you, along with spare changes of clothes. He fills a bag and ties it on the saddle, leaving their stolen riches along with the blade behind for someone else to find. 

He mounts up behind you again, carrying on forward for some time before speaking again. “Are you well your highness? You’ve been very quiet.”

You give him another nod, while chewing on your lip. “Why south?”

“That’s where my own clan’s territory lies. If they try to pull something like that again they’ll regret it.” He shifts in the saddle behind you, “Back there, I-I didn't scare you did I?”

You fall silent again, unable to confess he somewhat had, but also that the terror of your fellow mankind outweighed his by far. You fear the idea of having crossed them alone. They would have taken advantage of your mercy, who knows where you would be now if it weren’t for the self-proclaimed guard at your side. 

Yoongi seems to take your lack of answer as confirmation of his worry. “I needed them to see me as a vicious monster, had they not backed off I would have had to become one. I’m sorry you had to witness the threat but it was necessary. I needed to terrify them for their sake and yours. I promise didn’t intend to frighten you, only to keep you safe. ” 

...

Coming close to the break of day you find rest this time in a small abandoned house. The windows shuttered completely to prevent even the smallest stream of light from entering. Unlike the night before Yoongi doesn’t light the lantern. It’s so dark inside that he has to lead you to an empty space of floor for you to rest on. He takes a couple steps away, giving you some space before settling down himself once again between you and the door.

“I’m not going to run, you’ve made your point, or I should say the thieves did.”

“I don’t rest between you and the exit to keep you here, but to stop others from entering,” Yoongi explains. “These spots I’ve scoped out, I am not alone in using them. They are how my kind travels, some might have found different places to rest away from the sun, but I can tell that others have used this location. Don’t go examining your surroundings too closely, you might not like what you find.”

Now thankful for the darkness, you take your bed roll from Yoongi. “Rest easy,” he mutters as you climb in between in the blankets.

“Not likely,” you whisper back. “But thank you.”

Unfortunately you are correct, your sleep is once again disturbed by Taehyung. You catch a glimpse of his face before you're surrounded by him. The darkness holds you in a suffocating grip, your mouth slowly filling with blood. You struggle trying to breath reaching out to take a hold of anything that would pull you out. 

A hand grabs on to the side of your face, another on to your arm. Finding the shine of Yoongi’s eyes once you're able to open your own, you gasp out to him begging for some sort of relief. “Can’t see... can’t breath...”

He picks you up only to set you back down on the floor a second later. There's a click and the front door opens to reveal a narrow shaft of sunlight. A single beam a couple inches wide, but it’s enough to dispel the darkness inside. Your eyes start to water, blinded by the light, but it’s far too warm and comforting to deny yourself the sight.    

To your disgust there’s a lingering taste of blood in your mouth. Reminding you of the shackles that still bind you to Taehyung as it continues to overwhelm your senses. Yoongi’s voice flows from the darkness just to the side of the door, his eyes glowing like that of a predator’s. “I think you might have bitten your tongue in your sleep, your highness.” 

He’s right, you find a sore spot as you press it to the roof of your mouth. You make an attempt to focus back on the sun. You sit there in silence letting your breath and heart return to a normal rate. All while Yoongi’s eyes continue to watch you, burning in the darkness. He apologizes for his gaze, but does not withdraw his attention, “Sorry but it’s been so long since I’ve seen someone bask in the sun. I’ve forgotten what it feels like myself...”

“How long?”

“I lost count around the century mark, but it’s likely been double that.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Yes, but I understand. Immortality is a large price to pay, and every monster must have an equal weakness.”

“But I suppose, not everything it repels is a monster.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow as if he’s hiding a small smile in the darkness. “Dare I say, that sounds almost like a compliment?”

“Merely an observation,” you whisper, but your words trigger something inside you, a pain and longing which you can’t explain. “Yoongi, what were we to one another before...” Before Taehyung interrupted your life. “Please I know you don’t wish to speak for me, but I need to know your view of what we were.”

“We were friends, just friends.” He responds but you're not convinced, just friends do not wait outside the home of their enemy for five years. Just friends don’t put their entire life on hold for another. Just friends aren’t overwhelmed with the desires that seem to be returning to you now.

You’ve seen this expression on him before, you know you have. On the edge of your memories lies a dark cavernous stone built hall, one in which only you and him resided. You find him crumbling under the weight of what he is and what he’s lost because of that. Fragments of your words and his surface in your mind.

“You are not a monster Yoongi, I do not need saving from you!”

“If not from me, then at least from my kind. I cannot give you the life nor the safety which lies here... You would be better off if you forgot me entirely.”

You remember your wish to comfort him, to embrace him and prove that he has not lost everything because of what he is. With the recollection fading, falling from your grasp, you panic out of fear of losing the brief moment of memory. Closing the door you move towards Yoongi, the only focus you have of your previous life, hoping the scene in your mind might continue.

“I don’t need saving from you,” you mutter, blinded by the rapid loss of light, reaching out in an attempt to find him again. 

He takes your hand and holds it, his cool fingers trailing soothing lines over the mark on your palm. “If not from me, then at least from my kind,” he responds, following the path of your dialogue from long before. “You remember our last meeting?” 

“Only a fraction of it. I remember wanting to...” To confess to him, to kiss him, that was your past self was leaning towards. You thought well enough of him to desire an intimacy with one who feeds on others... that can’t be right. But even now you can start to see the appeal your younger self cared for. His soft touch on your hand, his calming presence, and protection, those are not qualities of a monster. And in the memory you were worried that he would reject your affection, that he would be the one to pull away, not you. “Did you ever desire to be more than friends?”

His eyes grow wide at your question, but his stance remains the same. “You know I will not answer that.” 

“But this is regarding your feelings, not my own!”

“I will say no more of us. I’ve told you far too much already.” He leaves the topic at that, directing you to your present state instead. ”There’s a few more hours before sunset... do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

You shake your head and move to sit with your back against the boards of the wall. Your reply is slow to come, and muddled with the first gasp of tears. “I can’t...” The prospect of closing your eyes again is too terrifying.

Yoongi comes to sit beside you, as he continues to hold your hand, his other arm wraps your shoulders as you let out the pain. A couple of hours ago you would have pushed him away out of fear, but with the spark of your past self craving his presence, who are you to deny the support it needs. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I have to keep my view from you. I don’t want to add to the damage that has been done.”

“There is not more damage that could be done. All I have to remember is a few months spent in agony and terror. How can I find comfort or rest when that is all I have? I have no knowledge of who or what made me happy, or of what dreams chased away the nightmares.”

“An adventure,” Yoongi mutters, his head bowed to the floor as he concedes with another part of your past. “You always dreamed of having an adventure.” 

You let out a broken and weeping scoff, crestfallen that your ambitions to learn more only exposed a further divide. “I find that hard to believe.” 

“Your parents were overprotective, because of your brother's condition. You were forced to keep to the castle, you just longed for something different.” His thumb rubs along the back of your hand as he holds it. 

“But I don’t feel like one to see the risk of adventures as desirable.”

“You’ve been through much since then, fear has a way of changing what we want. I will admit I wished for you to be more careful back then, but never at a cost like this.” 

“I don’t know if I will ever be that person again...” You draw your knees to your chest letting your head lull to the side and onto him. 

“That’s okay,” His arm grips you tighter, as his face lowers to the top of your head. His lips briefly brush against your hair, before his cheek comes down to rest, taking their place. “That’s why I’m taking you home.” 

...

[candidhart]

Made this one some time ago and had the HONOR of collabing with my dear friend @royai who wrote this AMAZING piece!

Love u Katie :3

After Dark

by @royai

It came as a surprise to Riza Hawkeye that the light could be as fearsome as the dark.

It never occurred to her that trouble could exist in the thin space between the two, that it should preserve itself there for a hundred years, maybe longer, and wait. She imagined herself as a girl asleep in her bed, moonlight slanting through her four-paned glass window, a ferry for the monsters and the things that were worse than monsters. Children checked under their beds and inside their closets, refused to venture into cellars and attics, thought of warding off the unknown with fat oil lamps and candles melting into their brass candlesticks. That things with spindly arms and bodies blacker than ink could use light as a conduit for their demented games… 

That they could touch her, even…

Nightmares took up residence in Riza’s sleep. In her waking too, they lingered there, limned her mind with the briefest flashing of tendrils. She curled into herself at night, closed her eyes on the horrors. The blackness found her, though. A million spider’s legs on her body, ghosting the flesh, raising the hairs, and that line on her cheek where the monster had touched her would weep. And she would weep, too, because it had been so long since dread had forced its way in. The tendrils brought strange, frantic memories to the forefront. A panic as familiar as church bells. 

Riza’s father, a monster in his own right, in the way that men become monsters and in the way that she had become a kind of monster too. He never minded her but to be those tendrils in the dark. Never in the light. That was her comfort, her safety, her promise.

The light.

A betrayal.

***

Central reached for her like a beggar. Grimy hands, oil-stained, gunk under fingernails chipped and jagged, it closed its hands around her and she was reminded, again, again, again, about the stories her father would tell. He would tell them in his sleep, and make promises of them in her ear, and he would tell them, even, through mouthfuls of blood. That Central was a bastard city. Its towers, spires, and cobblestones bathed in storefront lights bleeding from ornate windows, in the yellow glow of street lamps. 

Riza left her apartment and slipped off a curb, first thing. 

She remembered her first night in the city. Automobiles flicked light into her windows, made shapes out of the lamp she kept on a pile of boxes in the living room. Shadows in the dark. There were sounds all the time. Movement like tree branches.

Back East, back home, Riza could wander into the fields when she couldn’t sleep. She took a military vehicle into the countryside, an hour or so west, just a bit further inward. It parked fine on the dirt roads. Headlights would go black, melt into the darkness all around, and the hip-high grass cradled her as she sank down, down into the cottony earth. Most people counted sheep to sleep; Riza counted stars, stalks. 

She always woke before the sun. Home in time to rinse the sticks from her hair and brew coffee on her electric stove. 

Central did not exist to afford her any of that. Central was alive like hordes of flies are alive. Incessant buzzing, a whirring in your ear that you can’t see, that you worry might bury itself in your eardrum. Even before the tendrils and the monsters Riza would lie awake in her bed, books unearthed from boxes, clothes folded in neat squares over her dresser, a chest of drawers not quite filled yet, her apartment unpacked and unsettled, and fret over the whole of it: Central. 

She slipped off the curb and scraped her achilles on the concrete. Her teeth crashed together with the force, and she massaged her jaw as she reached down to rub her wounded ankle, fingers coming away wet and red.

A car beat over the cobbled street, spewing dampness from its tires. Riza wasn’t aware that it had rained but she smelled it now, acute and intense, like a single pinprick on the skin. 

Out east, that smell was earthy, ancient: soaked stone and evergreens, swollen carriages and damp horse hide, wetted dirt and a choked fire. 

Riza took Longmont to Leander, cutting her way through the city via back alleys where moonlight and street light was caught on brick corners and cordoned off by severe angles. She read the stories of women assaulted in Central well past dark, and had seen all the headlines he placed strategically at her desk, a tiny dog-shaped paperweight holding the newspaper steady until the moment Riza could read it and be properly warned. But it was never the people of Central who made her uneasy.

It was several blocks to his apartment. Riza folded herself into the dark. The creature could follow but he could not show himself here, not without a conduit, not without the light. Everything black, nothing inside of it, a void. 

A rectangle of light exploded over the ground. Riza stopped, terror seizing her hard. A woman with greying hair hummed and whistled as she sprinkled water out over hanging potted plants. Riza’s chest bounced frantically as she watched the shadow of the woman’s hands in the light, the shadow of the watering can wandering back and forth across the chasm of yellow, methodical as a pendulum. 

It happened so suddenly that Riza had little time to react. A mist, a gathering shadow, one red eye peeked out at her from the fluttering darkness. Then, like snakes, tendrils crept out of the line of black and into the little patch of light. Riza willed the woman to close the window, begged her, thought for a moment that she might shout or cry, but it was likely that the woman would only become curious and the window would remain uncovered as she came to watch from her lighted perch. 

The monster was an ancient child and yet, in this form, none of his features were childlike. His smile was wolfish and cruel, thin like a knife’s blade, and his tendrils sharp as barbs. They thrashed up against the liquid dark where Riza was hiding, attempting to gather her by the ankles. 

The child spoke using a dozen voices.

“Where are you going, Lieutenant Hawkeye?”

Home, she thought. An impulse, the truth, spoken so carelessly in her mind. To him. To the stars or the stalks, that tall grass and damp earth. Somewhere known. 

“You have made a rather purposeful attempt to evade me.”

“Forgive me,” she bit, “but our last meeting was less than enjoyable.”

The monster smirked.

“Do I trouble you so much, little Riza?”

The nickname, familiar in sound, comforting in its use, was a bitter poison on his tongue. 

“I’ll ask again for transparency.” The tendrils clawed at the ground, raked it. “Where are you going?”

Away from Central. 

Away from the light.

To him. To him. To him. 

He’ll shut off all the lights, pull all the curtains closed, feed her hot tea and leftover lentil soup and summer sausage. His apartment will smell like cologne and the candle with petals baked into it, and they’ll settle into the down of his bed and see nothing, and the monster will never even realize he has lost. 

“You have only as long as the window stays open,” she said, gaining confidence. “I am not bound to you. I can go wherever I want.”

As she said it, the woman in the window started to stir. Her footsteps grew closer, the sound of the humming rising, rising, rising into the final closing of the curtain. The monster’s frown was washed away by the night.

Riza ran.

His apartment was several blocks east of Central Headquarters. The storm’s eye, the quiet, the massive, white and oppressive thing. Riza wound her way past it without managing to sneak a glance. She didn’t need to. She could feel its gaze on her, what all of it represented. And the squared coach lights were tiny pillars of threats, waiting for her to come closer and be beckoned. 

She thundered past several shuttered windows; an older man on a stoop hunched close to the ground; the sounds of women chattering together like preening birds, their heels clicking over cracked brick and concrete. 

Riza took the stairs two at a time, lunging forward through the hall light, praying nothing would lurch out from the darkness and drag her away. She learned at a young age to fear the sudden jerk of the unknown. 

“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” he said. He must have heard her coming, because his door was wrenched open, and he stood there in pajamas and holding a cup of tea, the bag still soaking. 

“We’ve had an emergency at the office, sir.”

His brows trundled downward. 

“Please, come in,” he said, and moved aside as she nearly tripped her way into his apartment. “Excuse the mess.”

There was no mess, not quite like someone would expect. The Colonel’s apartment was better kept than hers, although she had just moved and he had gotten to stay. Things were collected together in neat piles: alchemy books gathered at one arm of the couch, on the floor, an old mug sat atop them, and there were coats strewn about too, though placed strategically, two on dining chairs and one on the lounge by the front door. Pots hung together in clumps along his kitchen walls, white-tiled, much nicer than Riza’s tan wallpaper; and on his floor, beneath the coffee table, several sewn blankets, all gifts from the Madame’s girls, as far as anyone knew. 

Riza reached for one as she folded herself into his couch. “Please, sir. Can you turn off the lights?”

He set his tea on the counter. Again, he looked at her with concern, but the lights started to fall away the closer he came to her. First the kitchen, the six squares of dining space, the hall light he shut off as he sat opposite to her on the couch. The lamp was last. And finally, with the lights of Central thoroughly shut out, Riza could breathe.

It was much like how she would lock herself in the bathroom as a child, plugging the bottom of the door with a wet towel, the waxy shower curtain a flimsy barrier between herself and her raging father. Eventually he removed the locks, and then the knobs. Even now, she felt the cold,  hard press of the tub’s porcelain on her back. 

“Thank you.”

Silence, and then: “What are you doing here, Lieutenant?”

Coming home. 

“I’m not sure myself, sir.”

The Colonel shifted his weight. He was a full cushion away from her, but his heat radiated all the same. 

“What happened to your cheek?”

“I cut it on a bramble while fetching a lost toy for Hayate at the park.”

Fingers pressed to her skin, a thumb ran slanted along her wound. 

It was reminiscent of childhood, for sure. Riza had always courted this quiet, contemplative darkness. It was when she was a little older that she invited Roy into it, and he welcomed the invitation, and he was a kind, treasured guest. But tonight she was feeling particularly fragile. 

She took his hand and fit his knuckles under her chin. 

The monster had allowed her to be here, that much was certain. There was no other reason that he wouldn’t have stolen her from those stairs. 

She crushed Roy’s hand into herself. 

What was he after?

What was the motive?

Was it… afraid?

Roy leaned closer to her. His fingers squeezed hers. He wanted to say something, she knew, or ask her why she had come to him and begged for the dark. 

She would not tell him. Tomorrow, maybe, but tonight she was fragile. 

Riza found his mouth in the dark. She set his hand free and it wrapped itself around the curve of her neck, tipping her head back. His other hand gave her hair a gentle tug. 

“Are you all right?” he managed to ask around her lips, while she occupied herself with tracing the scars on his hip and in his abdomen. She gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled him toward her until she was on her back and he had to brace himself against the arm of the couch. “Lieutenant,” he said, though the sentiment was weak, ill-willed. He was attempting and failing at control.

“I’m all right,” she said, and kissed him again. He tasted like his tea. Again his fingers brushed the cut on her cheek, and as they did she was shocked, jolted. She broke away from him and sat upright. “I’m, uh…”

“I really just need to know if you’re all right.” 

“I’m going to go.”

“Lieutenant— Riza.”

The name was too much, the break in her skin was too much, the darkness was not enough. It was not enough. The curtain hadn’t been enough. The porcelain. All the nights cascaded in the dark, the world pulling itself to a close around her, fitting like a glove. 

“I have to go.”

The Colonel kept to his place on the couch as she stood and put her hand on the door and wondered again about what the monster wanted. 

She hadn’t known as a child, and she had survived anyway.

She had survived.

The light swallowed her whole.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Sweetest of Exiles - One

Summary: When Oberyn Martell travels to Essos for exile, he found more than he anticipated when he first lays eyes on Pero Tovar, his brother-in-arms in the Second Sons mercenary company. While Pero is a bit resistant to his Oberyn’s overt charms at first, the Prince always gets what he wants. When the Second Sons are hired to rescue a wealthy merchant’s daughter, Oberyn learns there is much more to the grumpy sellsword. And Oberyn doesn’t mind sharing–especially when the merchant’s daughter smiles at him like that.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Pero Tovar, (past) Pero Tovar x F!Reader (No Y/N), future--it is a surprise.

Rating for this chapter: T for mentions of blood, guts and gore...magic. My overuse of italics. 

Word Count: 5k

A/N: I wrote most of this drunk (or buzzed). I am still riding my red wine high so I almost apologize for the nonsense. If you have any questions about the ASOIAF lore/geography that I’m mentioning, please send me an ask or a DM! I’m always happy to ramble about this series.

(thank you to my love, @starlight-starwrites for the absolutely gorgeous banner. I love you.)

Or read on Ao3 here!

CHAPTER ONE: The Mercenary

Oberyn had always wondered what he looked like when fucking someone. He had looking glasses set up in one of his lover’s rooms so he could try to catch a glimpse himself. But his unrelenting need to keep his partners satisfied always won out over his curiosity.

But then the gods seemed to have a sense of humor when they sent him away from Dorne after he might-have-killed Edgar Yronwood. The Citadel and Oldtown had entertained him for a moment but it soon bored him and he set off across the Narrow Sea to Essos. While the Second Sons mercenary company welcomed him and his sword arm, his eyes were firmly trained on the man toward the back of the company with the scar down his face.

His face.

And well, his time away from Dorne just became much more interesting.

**

It had taken almost an entire year of not-at-all subtle flirting and propositions and nearly losing their lives time and time again before Pero found himself tumbling into the Prince of Dorne’s bed. The Prince was definitely persistent, Pero would never admit that his charms—his annoying charms—had worn him down instead of Pero’s selfish desire for release while the company was too far away from any sort of willing woman and his hand just wasn’t cutting it. But the Prince had been attentive—willing to let Pero wrap his scarred and rough hand around his throat when he was pressing him into the threadbare bedroll in the quiet corner of camp.

The prince felt good—and he knew how to make Pero feel good.

It was infuriating—he wanted to strangle he smug smirk right off the prince’s face but he knew that the Prince was only capable of enjoying when someone’s hand was around his throat. But he had to admit that he had finally found a true friend (and not just release) with the man who looked strangely like him.

It had been nearly two decades since he could speak with someone as openly as he did when he was alone with the prince in their tent.

But his mind still drifted—to years ago. To his life before finding coin in the service of the Second Sons.

“You make the moon shine brighter, Pero.”

It was childish of him, stupid, to still think of her all these years later. Surely she had forgotten him. They had just been children—he had just been a third-born son of a disgraced lord from Valysar and she had been… she had been everything.

“You are pensive, Tovar.” The prince’s voice cut through his reverie.

He had thought the prince asleep—spent from a long day’s ride and a quick, near-desperate fuck as soon as their shared tent was erected. “It is dark, princeling. You cannot see me.”

Oberyn chuckled. “I know your brooding silences from your angry quiet.”

“You think a great deal of yourself, don’t you?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes despite the dark.

“I believe you think a great deal of me, as well.”

Pero sighed.

“Tell me what weighs on your mind.”

“Nothing that concerns you. Go to sleep.”

Oberyn laughed. “I will find out what has you brooding.”

“Do not hold your breath, princeling.”

He only laughed.

Pero was not sure when they had both fallen asleep but they were both woken by a frantic yell outside their tent. The prince’s knife glinted in the dimming moonlight and Pero had never let his hand leave the hilt of one of his smaller swords as they charged outside. They expected an ambush—a retaliation from the Tyroshi they had just pushed back on behalf of Lys—but instead, they found a disheveled man, bloodied and bruised and desperately limping toward their camp, frantically waving his hands above his head, shouting something in the Myrish bastard Valyrian dialect.

Pero sheathed his blade as he finally started to realize what the man was babbling. “Calm yourself, man.” Pero said, stepping in front of Oberyn.

The man nearly collapsed as he reached them, big, brown eyes shining in the moonlight. “They took her. They took her—I barely escaped.” He continued to jabber and Pero mostly listened—having heard desperate pleas from hundreds of men and women over the years of his service in the mercenary company—the man’s story consisted of being surrounded on the road to Myr by a group of religious zealots. The story was not an unfamiliar one. The Free Cities were known to erupt with pockets of violence; the causes ranged from trade disputes, claims to land, religion, and everything in between.

Pero had heard it all.

But then the man opened his mouth, blood drying on his chin, and said, “but they took her—they wanted her.” And a name pushed by the man’s bruised lips—a name he hadn’t heard in years.

Before he could stop himself, Pero reached out and grabbed the man by the collar of his tunic and hauled him to his unsteady feet. “Tell me where.”

**

The captains deliberated for only a few short moments before refusing to take the charge.

The fact that the woman was Qohorik had negated the fact that the Myrish magistrate who had fought his way to their camp had promised a princess’ ransom and promised that her father, a prominent merchant, would double it for her safe return. The Second Sons had been humiliated generations ago at Qohor and had not taken any bounties or contracts from the city or its inhabitants since then.

The Second Sons gave the magistrate—Orestes, his name was—some water and a bit of feed for his exhausted horse and then told him to leave. They would not go.

And Pero was an angry man. He had wrath in his blood since he was a boy, tempered only with bouts of relief and quiet. But this had sent him into a near rage with how flippant they captains had been when they had delivered their decision. Of course, he had not mentioned that the woman Orestes had pleaded to be rescued had been…her. Or how he knew her. Attachments like that were frowned upon, even by mercenaries. Soft hearts made easy targets.

But as the sun set the next day, Pero knew what he had to do. Even if he was alone. He packed his bare essentials, mostly worried about his sack of coin and weapons, and then pushed out of the tent-

-only to be met with the smirking face of the princeling. “Come, I have a surprise for you.”

“I do not have time for this.”

“Yes, you do,” Oberyn said with a broadening smirk as he turned away, leading Pero further away from camp as the moon continued her climb up into the inky sky. And why was Pero following him? He had to leave. He had to find that stupid magistrate. He had to-

There were about two dozen Second Sons, including one of the company’s healers, waiting at the tree line with their packs and mounts. Oberyn’s smirk reached its peak as he winked over his shoulder at Pero who only scowled in return. The Magistrate—Orestes—was standing with them, looking more than a little out of place with his rumpled fine clothes, now stained with dirt and blood. But he offered a tentative tilt of his head when Pero stepped up to the group with Oberyn.

“What did you do?” Pero hissed.

“I formed my own mercenary company,” Oberyn replied with a roll of his shoulders. “I know you are brighter than this, Tovar.”

If possible, his lips formed an even thinner line.

“Do not pout. We are going to save the damsel and get paid.” There was a cheer from the small band of men—both Tovar and Orestes were the only ones who did not seem to enjoy it. But soon they were on their way, each step taking them further away from the strange safety of the Second Sons and into the wilds of Essos.

**

Orestes, Pero found, was fond of speaking to anyone who would listen. His voice was pleasing but Pero preferred the quiet in most instances. But, he supposed it was necessary to learn just how he had ended up fleeing to the Second Sons in a desperate plea for help.

Orestes and his companion had been traveling from Qohor to Myr—and Pero tried very hard to not grind his teeth every time Orestes referred to her as ‘my lady’—to allow her to see more of Essos and to return Orestes to Myr after his year-long residency to Qohor that had been in the name of strengthening trade routes and agreements.

(“But, of course, I found myself more entranced by the city and its people than my fellow magistrates’ mandates that I was told to quickly solidify.” He sighed, the sound only a lovelorn man could make and Pero could not stop the grinding of his teeth at that.)

But on the road between Volantis and Myr, a group of heavily armed, religious zealots had slaughtered their small band of traveling companions and guards and took her and Orestes captive in a plot to gain the knowledge her father was keeping secret.

Her father, Lord Ollo, had been one of the famed smiths in Qohor who still knew the secrets of re-forging Valyrian Steel. The famed metal had become a treasure since the Doom and those who could work with the fickle and strong metal were regarded as lords and wielded their power like nobility, too. Travelers from all across Essos sought him out for new weapons, armor, and the occasional piece of jewelry from bits of Valyrian Steel and he had gained a reputation for being excessively secretive but the best at his trade. His wife was a noble woman and had raised his status with their marriage while providing her with the lifestyle on par with princesses.

But Pero knew all of this. He had seen it firsthand. He had supped with him and felt his lady-wife’s fingers tug at his boyishly poorly cropped hair with a fond smile. He knew that their home, an imposing fortress deep in the Forest of Qohor, always smelled of fire and metal and drying flowers.

It smelled…like home.

Well, it had. For a time. A long time ago.

And Orestes never needed to know that—never needed to know that the only reason he had a small band of mercenaries at his call was because the Prince knew that the woman, whose name he could not even say aloud, meant something to Pero.

For all his pride and well-earned arrogance, Oberyn was a good man, Pero had to admit. (He would never actually say this to Oberyn, his ego was big enough without the extra fodder.) And he would have to find a way to repay the prince-who-had-everything in some fashion. Pero’s pride would not allow this kindness to be left unpaid.

Orestes went on to explain that the zealots thought attaining the knowledge of Valyrian Steel would allow them the proper way of sacrificing in order to satiate the supposed blood lust of some old, stupidly named god. They hoped to trade her for Lord Ollo’s knowledge.

“But you seem to know my lady,” Orestes said, turning in his saddle to look Pero straight in the face. “Do you?”

“Is she your lady?” Pero asked in return, ignoring Orestes’ question and how his stomach turned at the thought of her being alone with a group of men as delusional as the band of zealots. Thankfully, they were nearing where Orestes said he had been held captive—less than two days’ ride from their camp but they had set their horses upon the trail with haste, cutting time from their journey.

Orestes’ answering smile was small. “No. But I am blessed to know her and I will never forgive myself for leaving her behind.”

“But she told you to, didn’t she? Told you to run and not look back.” The words were out of his mouth before he could bite them back and his ever-present scowl deepened.

“You do know her. Indeed, she told me to run as soon as I was able. But not to Myr—she told me to run west.” He paused and shook his head and Pero barely caught the confusion coloring the Magistrate’s features. “I had thought the prince was jesting when he said you knew her. I am in your debt, it seems.”

“Just pay the fee you promised.”

“Of course! I would not dream of-”

“Good.” Pero dug his heels into his horse’s side and urged the animal into a faster trot. “You will keep your head, then.” Orestes said something else but Pero had already galloped away to Oberyn’s side at the front of the group. “What have you said to the magistrate?”

“Nothing of consequence.”

“Do not lie to me, princeling.” Pero scarcely noticed the men behind them slow their horses’ pace to give them room. Their relationship—if it could even be called that—was an open secret to most in the Second Sons and some of those who followed Oberyn into this new company were also willing to indulge themselves in each other’s bedrolls if the time called for it.

Oberyn only laughed. “I did not know that your obvious reaction to a lady’s name was a secret needing to be kept.”

“What else have you told him?”

“Nothing. Just as you have told me nothing. But I have still called the men who were loyal to me and the promised coin to save this woman you have kept like a secret.” Oberyn arched an eyebrow, a look Pero knew meant Oberyn was daring him to argue. “She will be safe. The Magistrate will be on his way and our pockets will be filled.” Oberyn’s dark eyes sparkled in the growing sunlight. “And I shall meet this lady of yours. She must be a sight to behold to warrant such attention.”

“She…” The words died on his tongue. How would he even try to describe her? How childish would he sound to a prince for harboring such affections for his childhood love after all this time? “She warrants much more than any man could ever give. Including the Magistrate.”

Oberyn huffed but a smile tugged at his lips. “We are nearly there, Tovar. You can make the polite introductions.”

**

Night had just started to fall, painting the sky a violent shade of orange, when Orestes had announced that the ruined castle was just over the next hill.

Pero felt his chest tighten for a moment, a shot of adrenaline he had not felt as strongly since he was a new recruit to the Second Sons facing a small horde of Dothraki.

They crested the hill and Pero saw the broken remains of a once-grand castle. A single window was lit with the dim light of a candle just as the sun disappeared behind the stone, making it look like it had absorbed the red light and bathed in an inky black.

Defense of the castle was nearly impossible with its location and the small band of mercenaries quickly surrounded it, ready to drive inside when suddenly….the door, large and rusted, opened and a single man rushed out, screaming something in what Pero thought to be Old Ghiscari and covered in…blood.

Pero turned to look at Oberyn who seemed to be waffling between amusement and confusion at the sight. He waved a hand, silently commanding two men to secure the fleeing zealot—quietly, if possible.

“It is too quiet,” Pero said as he turned back to the castle after watching the screaming man be brought to his knees and a dirty rag shoved between his lips.

Oberyn agreed. “Surely a band of zealots would make more noise. I’ve been told they’re fond of chanting.” The prince slid closer to the ruined castle, staying hidden behind the rolling hill and scattered boulders for cover.

Pero watched him move, knowing the prince had an innate talent for hearing the smallest noises—whether it be from a rabbit or a sneaking assassin, and would trust whatever his judgement was.

“If anyone is left, they are not moving.”

Pero nodded, ignoring the umpteenth time his chest clenched, and signaled for the rest of their band of men to press forward. Step by step, they neared the castle and spread out to find different entrances. Orestes stumbled in the loose dirt to stay near Pero and Oberyn and Pero grimaced when Oberyn nudged him in the side, silently telling him to allow it—at least for the time being.

Closer and closer, they crept until they Pero was able to curl his hand around the edge of the door and peel it open just enough for him and Oberyn to slip inside. Orestes tripped over a loose stone as he followed.

And Oberyn had been right.

The castle was quiet. Unnaturally so.

The grip on his swords tightened as the small group pushed further into the dark ruins. Torches were scattered and burning out in their holds on the wall, casting even more shadows against the crumbling stone. He heard the soft footfalls of his fellow mercenaries coming in through the east and west entrances but it gave him little comfort. They were alone.

Alone.

His next step made a splash and he looked down to see the toe of his boot submerged in a dark puddle. He reached out and grabbed a torch from the wall and let the dying flames shine near the floor.

It was blood.

He raise the torch just enough to light the end of the hall and sighed.

“How interesting,” Oberyn said as he glanced over his shoulder.

Blood pooled between the broken stone and drip-drip-dripped from some unseen source to puddle in the corner. Bodies were crumpled along the path and Pero turned to pin Orestes with a look. “These men were the ones who slaughtered your guards and took you captive?”

Orestes looked down at a body and seemed to bite back a gulp. “Yes.”

“It looks like they put up quite a fight.”

“It looks like they were ripped open,” Pero corrected before pressing forward. “What did this? Did they do this to each other?”

“I’ve never seen a group more cohesive than them,” Orestes said. “They never contradicted each other or spoke out of turn. They had a singular mentality, it seemed. I would not believe they turned on each other.”

“Men turn on each other all the time,” Oberyn said. “Even without cause.”

They continued forward, Pero leading. He was not sure where they were going, but he knew—instinctively—that he needed to keep moving. If another person or creature had found the castle before they did, what hope did she have? Would he find her like this, too? Reduced to a bloody corpse? Would that be the last chance he would have to see her?

But they walked on, further into the dark, catching glimpses of the rising moon in the half-collapsed windows until they turned and saw the outline of a door, lit by a dim, orange light. Without a care, Pero pushed forward, hilt of his sword still in his hand as he pushed the door open and his grip faltered.

For the first time in nearly two decades, Pero let his swords fall from his grasp.

In the corner of the small room, huddled near a solitary candle, was a woman. Not just a woman—her.

Chains wrapped around her ankles and wrists and angry, deep cuts spanned the length of her legs and arms and her fine dress had been reduced to rags. He barely registered Oberyn calling for the healer as he stepped to her side and quickly knelt down. The locks on the chains were easily undone and his roughened hands carefully prodded at the broken skin.

“Pero,” she whispered, the name sliding by her chapped lips. Her head sagged and Pero moved just enough to let her forehead rest against his shoulder. “You’re here…” her voice was rough and raspy, like she had been screaming for hours. And perhaps she had.

“I’m here.”

The healer came in, arms filled with supplies, while more than a few of their company stuck their heads into the room to see their charge. Oberyn quickly moved them back and shut the door—Pero would thank him for it later.

“Look at me. Look at me, Petal,” Pero said as the healer tutted as he looked over her wounds before uncorking a bit of firewine.

Her unfocused eyes slid to him as the healer set to work. A cry broke her chapped lips as the firewine started to spill across her legs.

Pero reached out and kept her head still, gaze on him, as the healer continued. “Just me, Petal. I am here.”

“Pe-Pero.” The name was stilted on her tongue. “Please—it hurts-” a scream tore its way out of her throat but Pero held her steady even as his chest clenched.

“I know. But it will be over soon.”

Tears gathered in her eyes and slid down her dirty cheeks as her hands shot out to grab at his armor; he could feel the heat of her touch sliding and blooming warmth through his thick tunic. But he kept her focused on him even as the healer muttered about needing more wrappings.

“I’m here, Petal. I’m here.”

**

“This is my fault,” Orestes whispered.

The company had settled into the ruins as a camp for the night, finding the rooms (where there wasn’t blood or any bodies) more comfortable than the outside ground. Pero, Oberyn, and Orestes were the last three to retire from the roaring fire they had made in the remnants of the great hall.

Pero agreed but kept that to himself. “How?”

“We travelled by Myr weeks ago. But I could not bear to part from my lady’s side—I convinced her, selfishly, to let me take her to see Volantis, Lys, Tyrosh. She had marveled at everything Norvos and Braavos had offered—even Lorath had made her wonder like a child. I wanted to give her more of that, to show her all I could.”

“And then you were set upon by zealots. Probably followed you from Dagger Lake.”

Orestes shook his head. “Our party never neared that pirate hive. The closest we came to it was when she insisted on seeing Valysar. That little town of no consequence.”

Oberyn, only briefly, touched Pero’s back and he knew the prince meant it as a comfort at the mention of Pero’s former home. Orestes did not notice it.

“But she was adamant and refused to tell anyone why. But she all but disappeared for an entire day once we arrived and would not speak of her adventures—the little box she had procured never left her side and was never opened.”

Pero almost smiled at that. She had not changed—in that respect, at least.

Orestes yawned and stood from the rickety chair. “I must retire for the night. Please alert me if my lady calls for me.”

Oberyn hummed an agreement while Pero felt his face curl into a sneer as the magistrate left the hall.

“He certainly holds a candle for his lady, does he not?” Oberyn mused as soon as Orestes was out of earshot.

“She did not ask for him once,” Pero said before reaching forward to grab the jug of terrible wine left on the table and took a large gulp.

“But she’s asked for you? Hm?” Oberyn asked, snatching the jug from him. “And you’ve yet to introduce me. I am almost insulted.”

“She needs rest, princeling.” He had made sure she was comfortable in one of the largest rooms and was happy to find that her trunks, filled with her belongings, were still intact and made sure she received them before he had let her rest for the night, making sure to let the rest of the company know that she was not to be disturbed.

“I’m sure she does.” He took a drink. “But she has also been trapped, alone, with men who meant her harm for nearly a week. You were the first friendly face she saw—do not think that I misheard her. She called for you. Pero.”

“You could walk in there now and she would not be able to tell the difference.”

Oberyn tutted and Pero stole the jug back. “I believe she would.”

Pero nearly startled when Oberyn reached out and grasped his wrist, keeping him from draining the rest of the wine. His grip was firm but gentle and a hold Pero knew well. “I thought people in Essos were more willing to indulge themselves in matters of the heart and flesh. Do not be stupid.”

And somehow…that worked. Pero slipped into her room and found her sitting on the small bed, wrapped legs atop the thin blankets and a book on her lap. In the warm candlelight, she looked almost healthy. Like she was not covered in healing salve and he didn’t know there were long, angry cuts hidden by wrappings and her thin nightgown.

She looked…so much like the girl he had left behind decades ago.

Pero remembered Lady Daeryssa smiling down at her daughter, flowers twisted into her braids.

“You are special, my star. Like me.”

“Like you, Mama?”

Daeryssa nodded and grabbed the small, blue rose she had Pero fetch just that morning and pressed her thumb against one of its thorns until blood bloomed on her skin and started to trickle down her skin. Her face was serene and Pero could not look away. Her bloodied fingers pulled the petals from the rose and she carefully pressed them against her daughter’s forehead, sticking them to her skin with blood. Words he didn’t understand slipped by her lips as she pressed another petal and then another to her daughter’s face until she stripped the flower bare.

“You will be magnificent, my star. Your trials will be hard but you will always rise above.”

“Come in,” she said, setting her book aside.

Pero did as he was told and blindly set his hands in hers as she reached out for him, letting her tug him onto the edge of her bed. “How are you?”

“I will heal.” She smiled as if nothing had caused her pain and his chest hurt. “I brought you something.” She leaned back just enough to retrieve a small box from the mess of blankets.

The box was nothing spectacular, made from a polished dark wood with a simple latch and did not weigh more than his dagger. “How did you know we would see each other again?” He asked.

She only smiled and pressed the small box further into his grip. “Open it.”

And he could not tell her no. He unfastened the latch and felt his face crumple as he looked inside. His mother’s handwriting, still beautiful and tilted, drew his eye first. He grabbed the thin bit of parchment and unfurled it.

My dear boy- I love you more than words can say. You have saved us.

The rest of the letter was filled with anecdotes, telling Pero how the coin he had sent back home kept their family afloat and settled his father’s debts, allowing his mother and brothers to stay home and retain their titles and livelihoods. He had saved them. His mother had written it at least three times in her short letter.

But I still wish I witnessed you grow into the man you are today. Come home. You are always welcome.

He quickly let the letter curl in on itself again and shoved it back in the box, knowing she was watching him, face serene and almost unreadable. He reached into the box again and let his fingers brush against something cold and smooth. A shuddering breath pushed its way out of his lung as he pulled out a small, carved wooden wolf that fit in his palm. He raised it up to press the well-worn wood against his lips, just once, before placing it gently back into the box.

“You met my family.”

“I did,” she said. “They were very kind.” She paused. “And they smile so often. I almost didn’t believe you were related to them.”

He huffed. “You never let me have a moments’ peace, Petal.”

“You were the only peace I knew as a child,” she responded.

Pero sat with her for hours under their tree after her mother had disappeared and the petals remained on her face, only falling one by one after the sun had set, leaving little bloody thumbprints across her skin. He tried to press them back onto her skin without success, and she only giggled at his attempts, leaning into each of his touches and letting him try and try again.

She collected all the petals as they fell and Pero had given up on trying to re-stick them.

“What are you doing?”

“Practice.” He watched her reach out and scratch her palm against the broken bark of the tree, slicing open her palm in a single movement.

He squawked and moved to grab her hand but she curled her fingers into a fist, crushing the petals against her bloodied palm. She took a single, long breath through her nose and then unclenched her fist. The petals rose from her bloodied hand and floated up into the air as if pulled by invisible strings. They swirled around the pair before, with another long breath, she let them fly away, disappearing into the thick of the forest.

She laughed then, a light sound that had blood rushing to his cheeks for a reason he could not explain or pinpoint at that moment. All he could mutter as she looked at him, eyes twinkling and a giggle still on her lips was…”petal.”

“Why did you leave?” She asked as he tucked the small box away into his tunic.

Pero froze. “I had to.”

A/N: please let me know what you think! I hope you guys like this! there will be three chapters. 

[blackroseraven]

What a day today. Muck day, and I got there early enough to start feeding horses and put them out myself.

It was nice to remind myself. Why I do this, you know?

It makes the horses happy, and that makes me happy.

So yeah. It went nice and smooth; too wet for the horses to go on pasture, but some horses have actually gone home so we had more than enough room for everyone. Only Vader caused problems by running away when Other Teacherlady’s daughter went in to feed them and he like. Hopped her cart and just bolted out.

Horses.

Mucking was slow. Everything was wet. Made it miserable to rake through and there was just so much gunk.

Got it done, though, and then I limed and then. Let partner finish up the bedding, since I was dragging ass so much that he was already on the last section, and I just got Quattro and brought him in.

Quattro was really good today. We got ready fast, and then we just. Walked around the arena. One of the people I Have A Strong Dislike For came up to run her horse around while staring at her cell phone, so I left the arena, since. It felt like a day to take a walk outside anyway, you know?

So that’s what we did. My goal was to get down to the creek. Quattro was really good outside: he actually stopped to eat grass, even though he was frequently a dink and then used that motion to try and sneak a turn back towards the stables in, and he actually stopped to pee, which is. Weirdly big? Horses are super vulnerable when they pee and Quattro basically never does it when I’m riding him, but he found a good spot, felt safe, and uh. Peed.

Yep. Proud of my horse peeing. This is what we’ve come to.

We continued on. I forgot the normal trail is actually totally blocked and they’re doing digging and construction on that side of the field, so Quattro was antsy as I decided to cut across in front of the storage facility and get down to the field a different way. Took a few tries, but he eventually went, and once we were in the field he gobbled plants and grass and was eager to run around like an idiot.

But we focused on our goal and headed towards the creek, only to then be met wth Grandpa Farmer and one of those mini-tractor things. I can never remember the name. Some kind of cat.

Anyway yeah we turned around. More because I was afraid of being engaged in conversation than the machine scaring Quattro.

So we go along the road, because I am a sucker for the clip-clop sound Quattro’s hooves make on the pavement, and he doesn’t seem to mind pasoing down the street. And uh. There’s a van on the other side of the road. Fine.

Except dude is staring at us. And starts waving like “wow a horse!” and uh. The thing is, he’s so focused on us the van is actually slowly coming closer to us. So when it passed it was within like ten feet of my horse and of course I was in a bottleneck where I couldn’t really get any further away from him if I wanted to.

Lordt. Quattro handled it like a champ, though, even though I was absolutely ready to die one way or the other.

He was pretty eager to get home after that, though. Trombling pretty fast once we were on grass path again, but not out of control, and he actually slowed down for me when we reached the entrance to the stables, which was super nice. We came down and. I found a random playing card.

King. That’s what Quattro was today, though, a king at his job.

Ugh but it’s a Suicide King though wait.

OMENS.

ugh.

Anyway. So. Yeah. Really made the most of today.

Wednesday I have a Special Event. I am FREAKING OUT about it. But hey, hopefully all will go well.

At least it’s in the morning so I have minimal freakout time that day.

[spaceasianmillennial]

Part 1: Home

Summary: Trevor making his way back to the castle after defeating Death.

This is what it was, a shockwave, and then the sun pouring from the cracking skull.

I’ve done it. And so I give the world to Alucard and Sypha. 

And he was hurling through the multicolored cavern as if worlds whirled and orbited around him. This was his ascendancy, he figured, this was the multi-windowed passage toward the end, those countless levels of Hell his aunt told him about. He’ll see them all again, his father, mother, siblings if God wasn’t fucking around. What a story he'll bring to them.

But then his jaw was slammed rudely into the dirt. He lifted his head to breathe and cough out the grass blades and pebbles. A few seconds later, he squinted. Perhaps he was hurled into a circle Hell after all, perhaps taking down the Evil wasn’t enough to God. If he had the energy, he would have chuckled at the idea that God decided not to throw him in Hell.

When the haze faded and the numbness faded, he suddenly fathomed the sound of water. 

God must have flung me into the wrong Corridor. There was a sun, one that was clearly rising. It looked too nice, too serene.

Only then when he dragged himself to the water to dunk his red-welted arm and drink like a hungry beast and splash it onto his cuts and bruises did he suppose he was brought back to Earth. The spires were nowhere to be seen. This was not familiar territory. He looked for Sypha, for Alucard, but then remembering their two small shapes, the dark of Alucard’s cloak and blue of Sypha’s robes, outrunning the collapse of the bridge.

His family trained him to heal the overexerted body after the battle. Rest was important, reusing muscles in the intervals of rest was key. He turned himself over and laid on his back and let himself watch the clouds on the oranged dawn sky. How long did he hurl through the Corridor? It felt like a second and eons. It was night when he slayed Death--slayed Death, what a story for Belmont generations, he hoped to have landed in the corridor with then.

And so he was alone again.

He drifted off and awoke to blinding sunlight. He was still there. This was not a dream. After letting a few clouds pass his eyes, there was nothing to do but lug himself up and stagger forward. He looked at the direction of the river. He did not know this river but there’ll always be towns near rivers. So he followed it upstream.

When night fell, he was sleeping under trees again to settle his bones. In the mornings, he skimmed the grounds for trail mixes and non-toxic mushrooms and bushes for edible berries, thanks to old Speaker lessons, a blending of Belmont teachings derived from their recorded conversations with Speakers (Belmonts could document, Speakers could not), and a bit of the additional knowledge Sypha gave him.

What was that village again? Alucard was with a village headwoman. Perhaps it should have helped to ask before they had to run off to deal with the matter of the madman and the Rebis.

The river trails did lead him to empty villages, with burial grounds and hollowed huts and cabins. It took some deduction and a map he salvaged along with a black cloak to shield him from the hot sun. He did not stay on the path but kept it in sight as he walked through the secluded trees. If there were highwaymen or that damn “pirate of the road,” he didn’t have the energy to really deal with them. The thrill would be nice though.

From the map, he surmised that Danesti was that nearest village to the castle. He vaguely recalled it being nearly a stop when he set off on the road with Sypha. 

--

When he made it to Danesti, there were lumps of burial grounds and a ravaged fortress. But at least there were a few souls, loading wagons, perhaps moving to leave behind the memory of carnage and some that lingered near the burial grounds on their knees, paying their respects.

Trevor found another useful thing. Or it found him. A sturdy black horse with a white diamond on the forehead that nuzzled him when he entered the scratched open gates. It had a steady saddle and pouches. 

No soul around seemed to be interested in it. The horse probably lost its owner. Better not waste a ride. He summoned his strength and threw himself on, the aches rippled through this body, from head to toe, but it was worth it to not move his achy legs even if the road bumps popped waves of back spams.

He so looked forward to a bed, that bed in Dracula’s castle that he stayed in before he went off to adventure with Sypha. He and Sypha slept in different rooms then.

Sypha. He hadn’t talked about it with her. He had seen Belmont women spout curses at their husbands before they would ask God for forgiveness. It was probably a lucky guess the moment Sypha starting screaming curses, but he also noticed she refused her monthly rags and the smell of cooking meat irritated her--“Get that fucking frying pig away from me, Trevor.” It suddenly occurred to his brain that they weren’t as careful on that Lindenfeld bed. Damn it. He always took precautions with any one-night stand he was with. He had no interested in progeny, especially not ones hidden from his knowledge, for this was not a world for new Belmonts. For him and Sypha, an extra mouth to feed was just not in the cards. 

But now, it seemed that the possibility was closer. Death was defeated. 

He had to know if they would live through it all. Sypha probably knew it already of course, before he did. She would figure that out before it did. It was best if Sypha simply confirmed with him before they could have that conversation, if they could rejoin her caravan (Speakers had childbirth knowledge and ways to expel pregnancies) or lay low at the castle (Alucard ought to have knowledge as well). 

Sypha should have been the one to tell him. But he understood if Sypha wanted to murder him for not bringing up. 

He had to know they if would finish Targoviste, although god knows fuck what happened now that they had to abandon it. Every time they moved from troubled town to troubled village to follow the next reported human sacrifice, Sypha would mutter, "We cleared out the night creatures and vampires for them, but we have to trust the people now to save themselves the best they can."

If they had time in that castle... But of course, facing the slews of night creatures and then Death, it was his last and only chance to acknowledge his suspicion to her, regretting the conversation they’ll never have. She knew how to take care of herself and other people, so he had to bring peace to her mind to let her know that he knew--suspected--of something growing and existing within her and that he had faith that it would grow into something wonderful.

Now unless God was fucking with him and threw him into limbo, he’ll ought to find her. The Castle was the natural first stop, at least to talk to Alucard. But it had been, what, a few weeks? He surmised that it was enough time that she would be venturing to her caravan.

--

“Trevor, if you die, I’ll return to my caravan where I would mourn for you, my rude idiot. And I’ll give them every story, our victories and your idiocy.”

"Haha. Also, I'm not going to die."

“If I die, join my caravan. Gain knowledge, exchange it. You don’t have to have the Speaker robes or the mantle. But you won’t be lonely and you’ll be around my family.”

That was the backup plan. She discussed this under the blanket, her cool bare skin against his torso. 

“And what if I rather be alone than with Speakers?“

Her answer surprised him. “Go home, to the Belmont Hold. And you can be lonely there then.”

“Are you forgetting who occupies the Hold?“

“Exactly. You two can be alone together.”

--

She was being generous to make a plan for him. But truth to be told, he would have been happier to wander alone again. At least that's what he told himself. He realized, if Sypha was gone, if her bare flesh wasn't against his right now, if God decided to snatch her from him, he thought about what he would do. She wasn’t wrong. He realized he would have been drawn home to curl up in that tree, and this possibility would also come with seeing Alucard again to break the news.

The spires. The castle.

He could see the spires of the castle now. Alucard that asshole better have that soft bed ready. And with luck, Sypha would be still there or he’ll have to rest to find her.

She probably left. 

As he rode closer to the castle, Trevor could hear people, wagons, horses clopping, and the sawing of wood and clinking of hammers. How long has it been again? Perhaps the refugees were still here, practicing caution in case the demons came back for their village.

Feet scurried close. He was quite ready to fall now. Quite ready to let the Earth be his mattress. The horse came to a halt. He could let the generosity of humans do the rest from here.

The aches yanked him down, two gentle hands graced his back, softening the blow. He squinted as the hood fell and the sunlight poured. He recognized the feel of those small hands as one feels when putting on old clothes.

It was just his luck. There were her big blue eyes, and he was more lost in those seas than he ever was in what his aunt called the “countless levels into Hell.”

“Hello Love.”

--

Next up: Sypha’s angst during those two weeks.

--> PART 2

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[merci-bitch]

My Sweet Little One part II

Rose The Hat x fem!reader

Warning(s): swearing, slight abuse, PDA? 

Words: 2,5k

A/N: It has been quite a while. Hasn’t it? Haha. Well there might be a part 3 to this. It’s not as long as the first part which is 8k, and I have no idea how to make links so sadly I can’t link it here. ;/ . Hopefully there will more stories coming soon!

I made Y/N mine, alright. And everyone knew it, for sure. The next night she laid in my bed, I made her scream my name until her vocal chords were raw and made sweat crack across her place physiognomy.

No one could have her body the way I do, specially that loathsome rube. But he doesn't matter now.' I told myself. Though I wanted to make him pay. Rip his heart out and eat it on a silver platter after making him after making him suffer. Who the hell does he think he is? Laying his hands on my Y/n. They might both be steamy but he should see me. Oh yes, I am a cathedral compared to his small amount of steam.

"Rosie?" Y/n's voice pulled me out of my self induced trance. "Yes love?" I hummed. "You were zoning off again. Is something the matter?" I loved hearing the sweetness in her voice. It was like music to my ears.

"No darling, I'm quite alright." I smiled and placed my lips against hers and gave her a soft kiss. 'If only she knew though.' I thought to myself but shoved that aside for the moment. I could feel her soft hands gently caressing my bare skin and moved closer to her. Normally I preferred being the big spoon but on this moment, I didn't quite mind. She was home now and has been for quite a few weeks but still, I missed her.

"You're sure?" I nodded and ran my hands through Y/n's hair. "You're so pretty. You know that right?" She nodded and I smirked. "There is no one quite like you." Y/n's cheeks flushed cherry red and I chuckled. "No shame, darling. I only speak the truth."

"I know." She gave me a small smile that made me swell up inside. "Have you thought about my offer?" Y/n let out a sigh and I sat up. "I have but-"

"But what?" I tried my hardest not to sound angry. "When you stabbed me before, you told me it was for steam?" I nodded cordially. "Is that...what you guys eat?"

"Does it matter?" I expected to have her argue with me a little bit but surprisingly she didn't. Which I was thankful for. I took Y/n's hands gently in my own and kissed them. "Look, I know it's hard for you to wrap your head around but their pain is our gain. Don't you want to have a life with me? Unconditional bliss?"

She looked down as she slowly sat up and started fumbling with her hands. I wanted to say things, but I didn't want her to run away again. I didn't want to lose her again. She was mine, and only mine.

—— You don't know what it's like, not knowing who you are. To have lived in the shadows and to have travelled this far. Now I've seen a flashes of fire and echos of screams. But I still have faith, faith that someday my memories will come back.

In my dreams, it's all real. And my heart has so much to reveal. And my dreams seems to say, 'don't be afraid to go on, don't give up hope, come what may.' I know it will all come back! One day!

In my dreams shadows call. There's a light at the end a hall. Then my dreams fade away, but I know it will all come back one day. I just remember, rain against the windows. Sheets upon a bed. Terrifying nurses whispering overhead.

It was all strange. Rose, everyone. They say I was found on the side of the road. It had recently rained. In the darkness and cold with the wind in the trees. A girl with no name, and no memories but these above. I don't know a thing before that. Traveling the back roads, sleeping in the wood. I was always taking what I needed, working when I could. Keeping up my courage, foolish as it seems.

In my dreams I've always dreamed of a city. I dream of a city beyond all compare. Is it Paris? Paris... A beautiful river, a bridge by a scare and I hear a simple voice whisper, 'I'll meet you right there in Paris.' Paris.

Dancing bears, painted wings. Things I almost remember, and a song someone sings. It's almost December. Once upon a December. Someone holds me safe and warm. Horses prance through a silver storm. Figures dancing gracefully and across my memory.

Far away, long ago. Glowing dim as an ember and things my heart used to know and things it yearns to remember. And a song someone used to sing.

Heart don't fail me now and courage don't desert me. Don't turn back now that we're here. People have always said, life is full of choices and they aren't wrong but they never mentioned fear. Or how the world can seem so vast. On a simple journey to the past.

Somewhere down this road. I know someone true is waiting. Years of dreams just can't be wrong! Someone's arms will open wide and I'll be safe and wanted. Finally a place where I belong. Well, starting now I'm learning fast! On my journey to my past.

Home, love and family. There has to be a time where I had them too. I wouldn't be complete until I find you. But always one step at a time. One hope, then another. Who knows where this road may go? I wanna go back to who I was. On to find my future. There are things my heart still needs to know. Yes! Let this be some kind of sign and let this road be mine. Let it lead me to my past, and bring me home. At last!

—

"So, when the fuck was you gonna tell me."

"Hm? Tell you what my dear."

"Cut the sweet act Rose."

"What's wrong with you? Did they tease you again? You want tea?"

"Oh fuck you."

"Watch it."

"Watch it?! You have some fucking nerve Rose."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. The fuck did you think was gonna happen?"

"Seriously, what do you mean Y/N."

"Did you think I was gonna forget your words? Think I was gonna forget how useless and worthless you called me?"

"Y/N, I-"

"Shut it. I know exactly what you said, I'm not stupid or will I ever fall for some cover up you're calling this. I was happy without you!"

"You would never survive without me!"

"I did perfectly well for 10 fucking years Rose!"

"You call that happy?! With that Danny? You call that happy Y/N?"

"He loved me! He took care of me! More then you'd ever done, he took me for what I was. He picked up the pieces you broke."

"You better watch it. I don't mind killing you myself."

"See, this is exactly where you and I are different. I spend years not fitting in but thinking it was fine. Cause you were 'there' and cuddled me. Did you ever really love me? Cause you're blaming me for everything here, when it actually was you who fucked it up."

"I fucked it up?! You were the one who was so fucking ungrateful!"

"Ungrateful?! I have a fucking soul!"

"No, you don't! Cause you fucking sold it to the devil. You're not human. We turned you Y/N!"

"Excuse me what?"

"What?"

"No, don't change subject. What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"Did you fucking turn me without me saying you could?! Rose what the fuck!"

"What, you're mine. Just had to claim you. You'll be fine."

"Fine?! I don't wanna feed of dead kids Rosie!"

"They're actually quite delicious."

"You're fucking sick."

"Didn't stop you from fucking me."

"I didn't really have a choice."

"I didn't fucking rape you."

"Nah, it felt like it."

"You screamed my name out of pleasure."

"How come you were so sure of that?"

"I saw it, I saw your mind."

"What if that was just for play?"

"Oh, fuck you."

"I'd kill you if you tried."

"Oh, sweetheart. I'd like to see you try."

"Come at me."

"You can't be serious."

"Come kill me Rose."

"No."

"Coward."

"You're a bitch. A fucking bitch."

"Yet you put up with me for years. Took me back in when I was vulnerable. Loved me, well. Kind of. You held me close to you. Favorited me. So technically, I was your bitch."

"Exactly. You're my bitch."

"I was, not anymore."

"You'll always be my bitch. You're so weak for me, nothing will change that."

"Rose-"

"Begging already? Hm. Get on your knees."

"What?"

"Now!"

"Never."

"Get on your fucking knees before I make you."

"Make me then."

"You're playing with fire Y/N. I fucking hate you."

"Yeah, yeah. We've all heard that. How about something new?"

Before I knew it, her hand was wrapped around my throat. Holding me up in the air. Not a single piece of happiness or softness in her eyes. It was just dark. Her whole face was filled with anger. The veins in her throat showed as she strained. Her jaw clenched. Her hand squeezing harder around my throat. More and more air was ripped from my throat.

"You'll learn your fucking place. You disgraceful little piece of shit."

Her fingernails started to dig into the skin of my neck and my vision started to blacken out. Clawing at her hand. Choking on whatever air that was left in my lungs.

"R-Rosie-"

"Hm? Can't really hear you, my dear."

Her hand tightened even more and I felt my limbs go lump. Everything going dark.

-

"I don't know Abra. She's been gone for so long. She was missing when I came back from the bathroom at the cinema. You haven't seen anything?"

"No, I've been trying. It's like Rose is cutting her off from us."

"I just hope she's alright. She doesn't deserve all this."

"I know, but we'll find her."

—

"Sweetheart? Hey, wake up."

I felt someone slap my cheek. Groaning in pain, moving my head away. Slowly opening my eyes.

"Rose?"

"Yes, I'm right here."

"What happened?"

"My dear child, you passed out. You had a nightmare from sleeping and got up and started crying. Then you just dropped."

"Really? I don't remember."

"Oh, don't worry. I've got you."

Rose put her arms around me and pulled the covers over us, giving my forehead a kiss. I couldn't put my thought to it. Was that really what happened? I shook my head and snuggles close to Rose. Breathing in her scent. Relaxing. Smiling softly and looking up at her.

"What? What are you smiling about."

"Nothing."

"Come on, I can see there's something."

"I just -"

"Yes?"

"I love you, Rosie."

"I love you too Y/N."

—

"Rose? Is this really how it has to go?"

"Yes, my dear. Now come on. Stab her."

"I-I don't know, it's just a child."

"What have I told you before?"

"I-, their pain, our gain."

"That's it. Now come, feed your family."

Rose's hands were on my waist, her nose brushing against the back of my neck. I slowly raised the knife in the air. Feeling a sort of deja vu. Had I done this before? I couldn't have. Despite the child's cries, pleas and begging Rose was right. Their pain was our gain. I had to do this to feed the family. The true knot was my family.

Muttering a soft 'sorry' before stabbing the child. Stabbing it over and over again. Hearing both Rose's and Crow's laughter behind me. I felt angry for some reason, the child in front of me was the beat for my anger. The piece to take out all the unknown anger. Again and again. Until there was nothing left. Dropping the knife, shaking.

"You did so great, look at all that steam! Well last for weeks! If not even months. Good girl."

Rose gave me a wet kiss and stroked my cheek.

"Rosie?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Have I done this before?"

"What? Stabbing a child?"

"Yeah, I got like a deja vu."

"Well, haven't we all wished to kill children?"

Her carefree laughter filled the air. It didn't make any sense, but it had to.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Don't be so sad now, poppet. You did well."

"It just feels weird. I was a child too once."

"We all were. But now we are adults, we are the true knot. We live as more powerful then pathetic rubes. You said so yourself."

"I did?"

"Right you did."

"Oh, I can't remember much."

Rose stroked my cheek again and pulled me against her. Rubbing my back and watched the moonlight with me. It was silent. Was it nice? Was it confusing? Was it awkward?

"I just, this doesn't feel right."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like I've been walking, but with my face turned to the sun. This weight on my shoulders. And I feel as if I need to run. I do what I can to please you and the others, I just feel like an outsider."

"This is your home, can't you hear freedom calling? Calling you to stay. Don't you feel it in your bones? You belong here."

"In the morning before the sun starts shining, we gotta start moving again, can I drive with you?"

"Always."

—

"So I'm gonna stand up, and take my people with me. Together we are going to our brand new home. Far across the river. Do you hear freedom calling? Calling you to answer their prayer."

"That's what you got?"

"Yes, it was all I could find out."

"It's not really helpful."

"I know, I don't know what's going on. Before it was so easy to track her."

—

"I go to prepare a place for you."

Rose watched you sleep. She knew it wouldn't be long until your memories would come back. Her and Crow had been talking about what to do with you. She didn't want to kill you. She did love you, but if she had to she would kill you. You were steamy but she didn't know if it was that good. She had only tasted it once, but it was only little bit.

It had tasted like flowers. For some reason each time Rose would think about it. She would feel this, this heavy feeling in her chest. She didn't know what it was. It couldn't be guilt, could it? No. Of course not. Rose The Hat never had guilt. She was a strong a confident woman. Powerful. The queen bitch of castle hell.

Rose O'Hara knew guilt, knee pain and specially weakness. Rose The Hat could never dream of getting on her knees for anyone.

If she had to kill the one thing she loved. She fucking would.

[moonbeamsung]

I Fell for You Like the Autumn Leaves

In which your neighbor, who might as well be a complete stranger to you, convinces you to revisit an old childhood tradition of yours. Oh, and you end up falling in love with him.

member: chenle (featuring the dreamies and taeyong)

au: pumpkin patch volunteer!chenle x gn!reader

word count: 11.3k

genre: fluff, angst, humor

warnings: mutual pining, very mild profanity, kissing, teasing

author’s note: I know, I know, the au is oddly specific but just trust me! :) And I’m crossing my fingers that the tags work this time. I have nothing else to say except that I’m very proud of this fic and it was very fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it. Hope everyone who celebrates had a nice Halloween!

The tall, slender lamp post on the sidewalk outside of your house glows a pale amber color under the gray evening sky, illuminating the leaf-littered ground beneath it. You’ve walked past it hundreds, maybe even thousands of times, on a day just like this one. But this time, something’s different.

There’s a small flyer taped somewhat haphazardly to the side of the post, the dark lavender paper catching your eye. It’s positioned perfectly at eye-level, and you begin to read.

Fall is finally here, and you know what that means: The town’s annual pumpkin patch and festival is now open! Pick out your perfect pumpkin, find your way through a corn maze, take a peaceful hayride, and more! Come visit us all throughout the autumn season, 7 days a week from 10am to 8pm, at the corner of Chestnut Way and Fairview Boulevard. There’s fun for the whole family!

Small illustrations of pumpkins and colorful leaves fill the margins of the flyer, and the festive palette seems to brighten up the gloominess of the October day surrounding you.

“Hey!”

Whirling around, you’re met with the sight of your neighbor, Chenle. He’s holding more of the flyers in one hand, a small roll of tape in the other.

Despite him living only a few houses down from you for a number of years, you hardly know anything about him. You suppose he’s always seemed sort of mysterious. Sometimes you would catch glimpses of him outside from your window, and no matter if you saw him snapping photos of the blossoming flower bushes in his yard, riding his bike down the street with some friends, or just sitting on his upstairs balcony with a book in his hand, none of these things gave you any clues as to what he’s really like.

You two have exchanged brief hellos whenever you’ve passed each other on the sidewalk, him on his way somewhere and you heading home, but aside from those fleeting encounters, he’s a puzzle for you to figure out. You can’t help but wonder about him. Is he a quiet or a loud person? Is he on the serious side, or does he laugh at almost anything? What’s his personality like in general? Long story short, Chenle intrigues you, and maybe after today you’ll know at least a little bit more about him.

“Hi,” you return his greeting with a small smile, the kind of smile you give when you’re not exactly sure what else to say.

“Those flyers look pretty good, huh? I helped design them this year!” He explains with a proud grin, placing a hand on his hip as he studies your response. To be fair, he hardly knows anything about you either, and upon seeing you inspecting the flyer, he had decided to approach you and hopefully take a small step towards becoming your friend.

“Really? That’s cool.” The awkwardness in the air between you is far too tangible for your liking, and you silently hope he’ll take the responsibility of carrying on the conversation you’re currently sharing. Luckily, this wish of yours is granted moments later.

“You’ve been to the pumpkin festival before, right?”

You nod. It’s true, the annual tradition is one that everyone in town can enjoy, but in recent years you’ve started to lose interest in the festivities. You’re growing up, and it’s like you’re at this weird in-between stage. Mostly, those that attend are either large families complete with young children eager to explore every corner of the patch, or couples hoping to enjoy the ambience created by the cute decorations and cozy autumn atmosphere. You belong to neither of these groups, and so you’ve felt more than a little out of place the last few times you’ve gone.

You’re not sure if this is something you should share with Chenle, but without waiting for any kind of approval from your brain, the words leave your mouth anyway.

“Yeah, but I don’t really have anyone to go with and I don’t know anyone working there, so I’m not sure if I’ll make it this year.”

He frowns sympathetically for a split second before his face lights up again. “Aw, but I was just about to tell you that I’m volunteering there this year! So... if you’re worried about not having someone to hang out with, you’ll have me.”

“Only if you want!” He quickly adds, and that’s the first time he’s seemed nervous, or at least anything less than completely confident during your conversation. The cutest shade of red appears on his cheeks, and you don’t know how you could possibly refuse his offer now.

“Hmm... I guess I can reconsider, then.” You smile wider, more genuinely this time, after faking your contemplation by tapping your toe and tilting your head, a finger stroking your chin as if in deep thought.

“Really?” He replies happily with a small gasp, and his foot starts to lift off of the pavement to take an excited step towards you before he stops himself. If you notice, you don’t say anything.

You nod once again, and he notes how enthusiastic you seem now. Cute.

“Great! My shifts are on weekdays, from 2 to 7. I’ll see you there?”

“Definitely.”

The next week, you bundle up in your warmest jacket before making your way down the sidewalk, turning when necessary as you navigate the winding streets of your neighborhood. About half a dozen blocks later, you’re out on the main road, and you can just barely spot the entrance to the festival in the distance, orange lights strung along an archway that marks the small trail leading to it.

When you finally reach the inside of the pumpkin patch, the first thing you do is look for Chenle. You regret not asking him exactly where he would be working, but it can’t be that hard to find him, right?

He’s been on edge all afternoon, wondering if you would actually show up. It’s not that he didn’t believe you when you told him you would be there, he most certainly did, but there’s an oddly anxious feeling in his stomach that’s been affecting his behavior and he’s not sure he wants you to see him like this.

Chenle, just like everyone else, can be clumsy sometimes. But today? Today was a whole different story. He nearly dropped one of the biggest pumpkins in the patch while he was trying to lift it from the tall haystack it had been sitting on. His shoelace had somehow become untied while he was walking through the corn maze to check for any candy-apple wrappers or cider cups on the ground. Fortunately enough for him, no one had been around to see him trip over it, saving him at least a little bit of embarrassment. He even accidentally left the door to one of the animal stalls open, earning him a light scolding from his supervisor, Taeyong, and an entire hour on feeding duty for the horse it belonged to, between its scheduled hayride shifts.

It wouldn’t be a good second impression, he decides, if you were here to spend time with him only to see him completely failing at doing his job instead.

So when he spots you not too far away, craning your neck as you search for him among the large crowd, he’s conflicted. Does he face his fear of messing up in front of you and possibly risk your only recently-formed opinion of him, or does he avoid you the whole night? His heart clenches at that last option, and in a spur-of-the-moment decision his legs begin to carry him over to you. Catching your eye, he smiles despite the uncharacteristic lack of confidence in himself that he’s currently feeling.

You’re hurriedly cutting across the sea of people that fills the walkways to meet him, and when you’re within an arm’s reach you start to lift your hand in a small wave. Before you can stop walking completely, however, he takes your raised hand in his own, briskly guiding you off to the side to stand out of the way of the massive group of festival-goers. Just as quickly as he took your hand he releases it again, gently letting it drop to hang by your side.

You only just had your first proper conversation with him a matter of days ago, and he’s your neighbor for goodness’ sake. So why in the world did your heart rate seem to speed up just then?

There’s a small bench nearby, and he motions to it with a nudge of his shoulder. Sitting down next to him, you try your best to ignore the confusing signals that your body’s sending you right now.

“You came!”

“Of course I did,” you reply with a laugh. “It’s nice to have someone to enjoy the festival with for a change. I’ve really missed that.”

“What do you mean?”

You explain to him how it had grown out of being a family tradition, and that your friends always seemed to be busy, leaving you on your own year after year.

“Well... you have me now!” His voice is cheerful, reassuring, and despite all the noise and activity surrounding you at the current moment, it makes you feel at peace.

“Wait.” You glance around, then look back to Chenle. “Shouldn’t you be working, though?”

“...Shoot!” He knew he was forgetting something.

Standing up from the bench you share, he continues. “You can come with me if you want, but I can’t promise that any part of my job will be interesting.”

“It’s okay,” you giggle, standing up as well and following him over to a small covered tent. The inside is packed with people, weaving in and out of aisles created by several wooden tables full of small, colorful gourds. The boy behind the cash register shouts his name, beckoning him over with his hand.

“Hey Chenle, can you come help me weigh these pumpkins? Donghyuck had to go help some kids at the crafts area and business isn’t slowing down anytime soon.” He’s too busy typing numbers into a small computer system to notice that he’s speaking to more than one person. When his eyes finally lift up from the keys, he asks, “Who’s this?”

Chenle introduces you to each other, and you learn that his name is Mark. The gray beanie he’s wearing is somewhat lopsided on his head, dark hair sticking out from beneath it after all the times he’s cutely scratched the back of his neck.

While Mark and Chenle ring up dozens of customers, you entertain yourself by browsing through the wide variety of miniature pumpkins and squashes, some green, some white, some yellow. You occasionally pick up an oddly shaped one, running a finger over the small bumps or darkened bruises on the surface of the fruit.

When you look over at the register again, the line has died down, and after a moment of consideration your eyes land on a vibrant orange pumpkin that looks like it would fit perfectly in the palm of your hand. Picking it up, you smile a little to yourself as you turn, pulling your wallet out from your pocket and patiently waiting behind the 4 groups in line ahead of you.

By the time you finally step up to the checkout counter, Chenle’s been wondering where you went. He hadn’t seen you when he was gifted with the rare chance to look up from the metal scale he’s been constantly working at for almost an hour now. Maybe you got bored, he thinks, and left to go do something else or to just go home altogether. So when he sees the familiar sleeve of your jacket enter his peripheral vision as you place your tiny pumpkin down in front of him, he looks up faster than he thought humanly possible, in both surprise and relief. “You know you don’t have to buy anything,” he attempts to whisper in the hopes of hiding his words from Mark.

“But I want to. This pumpkin’s really cute,” you insist with a pleading look in your eyes.

Like you, he nearly mutters. That would have been a disaster.

“Do you want me to pay for it?” He offers, almost pouting at this point.

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, “But no. I promise, I’ve got it.”

“If you insist,” he responds, matching the sarcastic tone of your words and hoping to distract from his reddening ears. Chenle weighs the pumpkin and then places it into a small bag that you sling over your shoulder, where it will stay for the remainder of the day.

Unbeknownst to both of you, Mark’s eyebrow raises at the playfulness of your conversation. Maybe you don’t notice the furious blush on Chenle’s face, but he certainly does. And he won’t forget it.

“Hey, uh, guys? Donghyuck just texted me that he needs a hand. Do you think you could go meet up with him and help out a little?”

“Are you sure you can handle things here, Mark?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. But Donghyuck won’t be if those kids are deprived of craft supplies for much longer.” He reaches underneath the counter and pulls out a huge stack of plastic sticker sheets, with small images of bats, candy, and everything in between. “Take these.”

“Thanks, Mark! See you later!”

“It was nice to meet you!” You call out over your shoulder, and as you momentarily focus your attention on the boy behind you that’s getting farther away by the second, you’re too caught up in saying your goodbyes to notice that the one beside you grabs your hand again. Chenle gently pulls you away from the counter and out from under the tent, steadily making your way towards the other side of the large pumpkin patch.

You were lucky that Mark had the decency to at least pretend there was nothing going on between you and Chenle. He had refrained from commenting on it in front of you, and simply chuckled to himself when he saw both of you walk off together, hand-in-hand. He finds it amusing that neither one of you seems to notice the mutual fondness the other so obviously has for you. Mark doesn’t know a lot about you, but he knows you must be pretty special to be able to fluster Chenle like that.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, does not possess the same decency.

When you reach the crafts area, which is a small, designated space with several picnic tables and bins full of art supplies like glitter, paint sets, and markers, he gratefully approaches Chenle and accepts the large bundle of stickers from him. Like he’s feeding a hungry mob of seagulls with just a few breadcrumbs, Donghyuck essentially tosses them to the large group of children eagerly jumping at his feet. Scurrying away as they snatch the plastic sheets out of the air and get back to decorating their pumpkins, his eyes land on you for the first time.

With a smug, knowing smirk and an exaggerated nod of his head towards your tightly intertwined fingers, he asks, “Who’s this, Chenle?”

You know those movie scenes where two characters look at each other, at something else, then back at each other again? That’s exactly what happens. Chenle’s and your eyes meet, surprise evident on every feature of your faces, before you both realize the exact same thing at the same time. With shaky pupils, your gazes drift down to each other’s arm, then to your hands, laced together and acting as a source of warmth on this chilly autumn day. Much faster this time, you make eye contact again before rapidly but unwillingly pulling your hands away. The guilty smiles you send Donghyuck’s way say it all.

Chenle introduces you for the second time today as his neighbor, but deep down you both wish it was as something else, something more.

“I see,” Donghyuck says under his breath, in a huff of poorly concealed laughter.

Only Chenle hears him, though, and Donghyuck earns himself a rough shove to the shoulder with the snarky comment. You’re looking in a different direction, vision focused on a small child with a frown on her face as she struggles to embellish the small orange gourd on the table in front of her.

“Chenle?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna go see if I can help that little girl with her pumpkin.” You point a finger in the general direction of the picnic table she’s sitting at, glancing back at him for a second as you make your way over to her.

She’s close to tears now, and crouching down beside her small form, you ask, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

The girl looks down at you, rushing to wipe her eyes before explaining in a quiet, shaky voice, “None of these stickers are the shape I want for my pumpkin...”

Oh, you realize, she’s trying to make a jack-o-lantern face.

“Um...” Upon looking around, you spot a piece of paper nearby on the table and hand her a purple marker from one of the art supply containers. “Well, can you draw what you want the face to look like and maybe I can help?”

With a small “Mhm,” she takes the marker from you and begins to sketch four odd-looking but not totally unfeasible shapes for the pumpkin’s eyes, nose, and mouth.

A good distance away, Chenle is growing tired of Donghyuck’s endless interrogations about you and if he’s absolutely positively sure that you’re not something more than just neighbors. He wordlessly excuses himself from Donghyuck’s side to join you by the picnic table.

The drawings that the little girl comes up with look like a deformed mix of squares, circles, and triangles. Thankfully, you have access to stickers shaped like all three, and you get an idea.

“What are we working on over here?”

Looking up to see Chenle kneeling down opposite you, resting an arm on the wooden surface of the bench, you notice that his voice is different. Not in terms of its pitch or volume, but just in the way that he’s speaking. It’s even more gentle than usual, filled with concern and care, all because he’s talking to a child. How endearing, you think to yourself, smiling down at the ground for a moment or two before you remember the task at hand.

“They’re helping me with my jack-o-lantern!” The little girl exclaims excitedly, causing Chenle to grin wider than you’d ever seen so far and allowing you to get a glimpse of his adorable eye smile for the very first and certainly not the last time.

Nope. Your heart did not just flutter. At least, that’s what you’ll keep telling yourself.

With a wave of your hand you motion for him to stand up, you doing the same before whispering your plan into his ear. Exchanging nods, you both crouch back down again and set to work, guiding the little girl as she overlaps the stickers on the pumpkin to match the picture she drew.

When you’re finished, she claps her hands together and thanks you multiple times, her genuine gratitude warming both of your hearts more than a blanket or a heater ever could.

“Wait,” you turn back around just as you’re about to walk over to Donghyuck once again. Flipping through the sticker sheets scattered across the table, you find exactly the one you’re looking for and peel it from the plastic.

“Wha—”

Before Chenle can even begin his sentence, you’re already pressing the small acorn sticker onto his cheek, giggling softly at how a blush seems to blossom from underneath it, the adorable pink hue spreading all the way to the tip of his nose. Your thumb applies the slightest amount of pressure to his skin while the remaining fingers hold the side of his face, and your other hand clutches his shoulder over the burgundy sweater he’s wearing. It’s at this moment that it dawns on you: This is definitely not a “neighborly” exchange.

You jump back in shock at your own actions. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I really don’t know why I did that.” Inwardly releasing a string of profuse curses, you awkwardly step closer a second time, lifting your hand again to try to peel it from his face and just wishing this mortifying moment would be over already.

“It’s okay, you can leave it,” he stutters a little, taking a tiny step backwards. “I don’t mind.”

Not really knowing how else to bring the uncomfortable (well, that’s an understatement) conversation to a close, you let his last words hang in the air, casting daunting shadows over your heads as you both repeat the same thought over and over again in your minds like a mantra.

I shouldn’t like them...

Trying and failing to sneak a slight glance at the other, your gazes meet at the same time, both of you looking away just as quickly once you realize you’ve been caught red-handed. Or in this case, red-faced.

...But I do.

A few minutes prior, another festival volunteer had taken over Mark’s job at the cash register, leaving him free to roam around for at least a little while. Not knowing where else to go, he had come to see Donghyuck, and by default, you and Chenle.

As they watch your rather amusing response to the realization of and sudden embarrassment at such a shameless display of your crush on Chenle that you can’t quite bring yourself to accept just yet, Mark and Donghyuck talk lowly amongst themselves.

“He should just ask them out already. I haven’t even known that they exist for 15 minutes and I’m already sick of seeing them both deny their feelings for each other. It’s so painfully obvious!” Donghyuck makes a gagging noise, earning a glare from Mark.

“It’s kind of cute, though. Like puppy love.”

“Whatever you say, Romeo,” he snickers.

“Hey!” Mark shoves his shoulder, annoyed. Donghyuck just laughs.

Pulling out his phone, the younger boy types up a quick text message before hitting the small arrow to send it. Out of the corner of his eye, Mark sees the delivered blue speech bubble appear on the screen and asks him, “Who’s that to?”

“Jeno. He and Jaemin have got to see this.”

Not even a minute later, Chenle’s own phone dings with a message from the former of the aforementioned boys, providing a distraction from and successfully dispelling some of the tension that continues to weigh down on you both.

Once he finishes reading the text, Chenle looks up at you and explains, “Two of my friends are working concessions and they’re almost out of a few things, so I need to go pick up what they need and bring it to them.”

You frown a little and furrow your eyebrows. “Isn’t it weird that everyone’s been asking you to go from place to place bringing them stuff all day?”

Now that he thinks about it, you’re right. But there’s no time to stand around and wonder why there seems to be a pattern with his tasks today.

“Bye Donghyuck! We’re gonna go help Jaemin and Jeno at the concessions stand!”

Was it too much to ask for Chenle to absentmindedly grab your hand again? Apparently yes, because much to your disappointment he refrains from doing so this time.

“Did you seriously ask Jeno to make up a fake excuse for help just so you could get them to leave?” Mark questions him, a clearly unamused expression on his face.

“First of all, no. He actually told me that they’re running low on candy apples. And second, not only that, but also so they can see just how hopelessly they’re crushing on each other.”

“Meaning that they can tease them about it, too, right?”

“Exactly!”

Mark rolls his eyes. He supposes he shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. Donghyuck is always full of mischief.

You remain by Chenle’s side as he leads you towards a storage area for the festival and over to the kitchen section, where he grabs a medium-sized cooler packed with freshly candied apples. The walk is filled with casual conversation, any awkward encounters earlier in the day becoming long forgotten, or at least temporarily put out of your minds.

Not having any of his friends around to tease you helps, too.

The few minutes you have to yourselves come to an end all too soon, and as you approach a large booth that appears to be full of just about every autumn snack imaginable, you catch the eye of one of the two boys standing behind it. Whether it’s Jeno or Jaemin, you’re not sure. But sure enough, like everyone else you’ve met so far today, his gaze becomes one of surprise and interest upon seeing the way you’re walking so close to the tall boy at your side.

You decide to take the liberty of introducing yourself this time instead of leaving Chenle to do it for you. Reaching an arm out in front of you, you shyly step up to the conveniently empty counter of the stand. The first boy shakes your hand while the other turns around, eyes darting from you to Chenle multiple times.

“I’m Jaemin,” he lets go of your hand, but not before shooting you a wink and a ridiculously charming grin. Chenle’s stomach churns with jealousy. The boy is always like this, Chenle knows, but with you it’s different. Normally it’s just the regular flirtatious remark directed at a passing customer, making them nearly spill their popcorn or choke on their cotton candy. Despite his awareness of the fact that he means no harm, Chenle still has to fight the urge to pull you into him protectively. Jaemin picks up on his sudden envy but chooses not to mess with him further.

The second one speaks up, doing the same as Jaemin without the wink, instead displaying an endearing eye-smile of his own. “I’m Jeno.” His eyes light up when they land on the freezing container Chenle’s carrying. “Are those the candy apples?” He exclaims. “Thank you so much!”

“No problem,” Chenle grunts in response as he hands it to Jeno over the counter, still bitter about Jaemin’s coquettish introduction of himself. Picking up on his annoyed tone, you send a confused glance and then a sympathetic smile the boy’s way as you try to subtly calm whatever frustration that remains within him.

He softens immediately, regretting any worry he may have just caused you with his uncharacteristically cold demeanor. It’s immediately forgotten when Jaemin motions for the both of you to round the corner of the booth. Stepping inside from the back, you instantly realize it’s much too cramped to fit four people.

You’re about to excuse yourselves to go stand outside again when Jeno strides past, just a little too close for comfort. Taking a step back to move completely out of his way, you make a fatal miscalculation: Chenle’s right behind you. With a thud your back crashes into his stomach, and the awkwardness is more than just palpable.

Throughout the next few minutes you look for every opportunity to step away from him and escape the mutual discomfort of your current position, but business at the concessions stand picks up and both of the boys are constantly rushing back and forth, leaving you no room to do so. It’s not a physical discomfort, not in the slightest, but more so one where your self-consciousness is heightened, and you’re aware that it looks like something a couple would do, the way a couple would stand. In any other moment, perhaps a more private one, you might not have minded the proximity so much, but the public setting you’re in creates the need that you feel to visibly reject the non-existent distance between you and him.

Chenle could get used to how perfectly you two seem to fit together in what’s almost a back hug, with the way he could oh so easily wrap his arms around you from behind. Just not here, not now. Would it be too much, he thinks, for him to place a gentle hand on your shoulder as you both wait for the chance to separate from each other? He decides the answer is no, and as you both endure constant gusts of air each time Jaemin and Jeno pass you, Chenle holds you, grip light on the space between your arm and neck that’s covered in the cotton material of your jacket. His touch eases your nerves about the situation, for which you’re beyond thankful.

While you wait, your eyes find themselves lingering on the customers that shuffle through the line, some young, some old, tall or short. The scrumptious scents wafting within the booth begin to overwhelm your noses after some time, the pungent aroma of apples and spiced cinnamon becoming almost too much to bear for your sense of smell.

As expected, by the time you actually notice there’s finally enough space for you to step away from each other, you’ve already gotten comfortable where you are. The delayed response to this makes Jeno chuckle under his breath, handing a final box of pumpkin pie to an older couple over the counter of the concessions stand.

Glancing down at his watch, Chenle notes how much time has flown by since you arrived at the festival. He also realizes it’s nearly time for his shift at the horse stables, uttering a quick explanation to you and then the other two boys in the booth.

Exchanging brief farewells, you follow Chenle outside and down a thin path to a more secluded area of the festival grounds, out by the field where hayrides are given. On the way, you pass by the corn maze and the games area. The boys manning the attractions both look as if they’re part of the same group of volunteers that Chenle has introduced you to so far, if you had to guess.

Your assumption is confirmed when he waves at the first one, who’s standing beside a small group of children playing bean bag toss. Scanning the area for any supervisors that could scold him for running off for a minute, he darts over to the two of you.

It’s refreshing that he doesn’t inspect you from head to toe with his gaze, something that had happened to you far too much today. “I’m Chenle’s neighbor,” you start before telling him your name, feeling optimistic that he won’t bug you about your connection to each other very much.

“I’m Jisung,” he responds. Then, “Chenle never brings people to the festival like this. Are you dating or something?”

Never mind.

You inwardly facepalm at his blunt statement. Chenle actually does, the smack against his forehead sounding almost painful.

“We have to get going now, Jisung. I just wanted to introduce you to each other.” Despite being frustrated with the younger’s directness, Chenle still gives him a quick side hug and a “Bye” as you walk away, presumably to stop by the corn maze briefly as you had just done with the games area.

“They never answered my question,” Jisung mumbles to himself.

“Renjun!” Chenle calls, hoping this encounter will go more smoothly than the last. Surprisingly enough, it does. The boy extends a hand out for you to shake with a kind smile, not asking any questions about your relationship with Chenle. You’re extremely grateful that he accepts your status as his neighbor and nothing more.

Only when you’re turned away, gazing into the distance at the hustle and bustle of the event does he pat Chenle firmly on the back, exaggerating a wink and whispering a “Go get ‘em, tiger” into his ear. Chenle scowls at Renjun, groaning about being teased the entire day just for bringing someone to the festival with him.

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you alone.” Renjun starts to back off, but he simply can’t help himself. The next words that spill from his lips will be the last, he vows in his mind. At least, for now.

“...You like them, though, don’t you?”

“Mmph,” Chenle reluctantly replies after a moment, offering a noncommittal answer.

“Don’t overlook it, okay? You never know. They might feel the same way,” he gives Chenle’s arm a quick squeeze before sending him over to you. The light tap he plants on your shoulder makes you turn around with a smile, expectantly gazing up at him. “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” he nods towards the stables, and you both wave back at Renjun as you make your way over to the large structure.

An unfamiliar man leans against one of the walls once you get there. When he sees Chenle, he straightens up and runs a hand through his brown hair, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

The man steps aside from his spot on the wall to reveal a shelf full of animal care items, from cleaning supplies to heavy bags of feed and dry bundles of straw for the ground inside the stalls. “You know what to do,” he nods at the boy while eyeing you carefully at the same time.

Chenle manages to read his mind surprisingly fast, and he jumps to defend your presence. “They’re with me,” he clarifies.

“But you know the rules, Chenle.”

“Just this once, Taeyong! Pleeease?”

Unable to resist the puppy-like expression on his face, Chenle’s supervisor finally caves. That, combined with the way your face fell when he threatened to send you away in a nonverbal manner is enough to make Taeyong change his mind. A minuscule inkling inside of his brain tells him that you’re okay to be by Chenle’s side as he does his job, even if it might mean that he’ll get distracted at times.

“I suppose they can stay.”

“Yes! Thanks, Taeyong!”

“Wait a minute, what’s that on your face?”

Chenle brings a hand up because he’s genuinely forgotten, but when his fingertips brush the cheap plastic sticker on his cheek he remembers how it got there. “Oh, it’s... uh.” He looks to you for help.

“I did that,” you explain with an embarrassed laugh. “We were joking around and I stuck it on his face.”

“Oh, okay, just making sure you know it’s there.”

Some friends he has, Chenle gripes internally. They didn’t even bother to point it out. What if it had been something else?

Luckily, he doesn’t mind the cute sticker, even if it does make him blush like a fool when he thinks about your cute hands pressing it onto his skin.

As Taeyong passes him on his way out of the stable doors, he pinches one of his rounded cheeks, leaving the younger boy cringing in the process.

Time passes somewhat slowly as you watch Chenle go about doing his tasks, first taking one small handful of the horse’s food at a time and feeding it to her, steadily depleting her evening meal little by little. Then he grabs a broom and steps into the stall to sweep some of her bedding.

“What’s her name?” You ask him after a while, the simplicity of his actions creating a calming effect on you as you observe them. You only know it’s a female because you had heard him mutter “Good girl” to the horse rather affectionately a few minutes earlier.

“Nutmeg.”

“That’s cute,” you reply.

The silence feels heavy, begging you to face what you’ve both left unsaid throughout the day. It’s the first time you’ve really been alone together since you got here. But you’re both too scared to bring up the countless assumptions made by his friends over and over again during the time you’ve spent together that you’re dating, fearing that the conversation, supposed to be a joking one, would inevitably progress into something much deeper.

“I’ve had fun today.”

He says it out of nowhere, making both your body and your heart jump a little.

“Me too.” He peeks his head out from the stall to smile at you, your response tinging the tips of his ears red.

A few minutes go by as you fall into a light dialogue, talking about anything and everything you can think of, getting to know each other more. As he’s finishing up, you finally stand from where you’ve been seated for the past 45 minutes, walking leisurely over to the shelf of supplies, which just so happens to be next to the stall door.

All of a sudden Nutmeg hears something that spooks her, and you don’t realize that she starts to charge towards the closed pair of wooden panels you’re currently right beside.

It’s an instant in which Chenle’s clumsiness from earlier in the day threatens to come back in a much more severe form if he doesn’t do something. Senses more alert than yours for whatever reason, he takes action without hesitation, and time seems to slow before his eyes as he does so.

Swiftly moving you out of the way of the split stall door less than a second before it swings open from the force of the horse’s strong neck, Chenle pulls you to him. His arms dart out to catch you tightly by the waist while he turns both of your bodies around, ensuring that he’s the one closest to the enclosure. His reasoning? If he doesn’t take you out of harm’s way fast enough, at least he’ll be the one that feels the impact, not you.

As you’re being held flush against his chest, your mind races to process just how you got into this position. But your heart presses pause on the gears of your brain, and allows you to just enjoy the close intimacy of the moment.

Chenle knows he should do something, say something, but all he can think of is to stay just like this. Your head is turned to the side, an ear pressed to his sternum and in the perfect spot to hear his heartbeat. Its not-so-steady thump matches your own, sounding much like the uneven rhythm that a young child might play on a drum set, striking the instrument with force and conviction and unwavering confidence.

If only you could confront your feelings for him in the same way.

Both thanking him and apologizing profusely for your lack of awareness, you move to take a tiny step back and away from the snug hold of his arms. Only, you find that you can’t. Chenle’s still holding your waist, oblivious to the fact that he’s been clutching you closely for the past thirty seconds in preparation for a moment that lasted less than one.

“You... you can let go of me now, Chenle,” you say apprehensively, a half smile on your lips as you attempt to look him in the eye without being overwhelmed by the urge to kiss him right then and there.

“Ah, right. My bad.”

Chenle’s not usually this bold when it comes to the physicality of a relationship, romantic or not. But he can’t help it that there seems to be an invisible gravitational force surrounding you, just begging for him to reach out and lay a tender hand on the small of your back. Compelling him to tangle your fingers together like a mess of yarn, with the ends fraying and coming undone but at the same time holding each other up, keeping each other from falling apart. Giving one another something to hold on to in the most unlikely of situations.

With only a few minutes left to spare in his shift, he tells you to wait outside while he packs all of the supplies up for the night. Once everything is back in its proper place, Chenle is just about to step outside through the swinging wooden doors of the stables when a small noise from the caramel-colored horse stops him in his tracks. Turning around, he carefully approaches the animal with an outstretched arm, stroking her shiny mane once he’s close enough.

“What am I going to do, Nutmeg?” The conversation is a futile one, he knows, but it proves to be therapeutic for his conscience. She nuzzles his hand with her snout as he leans onto the wall, lost in thought.

“Should I tell them how I feel?” Her large dark eyes peer back at him, and as silly as it sounds, Chenle gets the sense that she actually understands, despite her inability to respond with comprehensible words.

“I’ll do it, then. Not tonight, but soon. Before autumn ends,” he vows, making a promise to himself and his heart all at once.

Nutmeg lets out a small whinny as if to express her approval. Smiling at the animal’s nonverbal reassurance, he opens the door to step out into the chilly fall night, strides a little lighter and head held higher than usual.

As the small clock tower set up in the middle of the festival grounds tolls seven times, loud clangs disrupting the low and indistinct chatter of the evening, you and Chenle return to the same bench you sat on that afternoon, eyes heavy and feet tired by now.

“Your shift is over now, right?”

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Ready to go home?”

“Definitely.”

The festival has mostly cleared out, which is surprising for the time of night that it currently is. The lack of all the hustle and bustle around you makes it significantly easier to navigate the paths extending in nearly every direction across the grounds.

On your way to the exit of the festival, the same autumn-themed archway you ducked under several hours ago, you pass a few of the boys you met during the day, offering a small wave goodbye to them.

The roads are quiet as you and Chenle walk next to each other on the paved sidewalk, the streetlights placed at every small intersection between the tightly-knit suburban roads providing the only source of illumination. With no one around to hear his shaky voice, he turns to you and stutters out, “I know I didn’t ask for your permission to do this earlier, but may I hold your hand?”

You let him, but not without a bashful scratch to the back of your neck and a mumbled answer of “Sure” directed his way.

Like two schoolchildren with the biggest and most obvious crushes on each other, there’s a skip in both of your steps as you walk the rest of the way home. Insisting on staying outside of your house until he sees the light in your bedroom window turn on, Chenle bids you a sweet goodnight with a lingering hug and a small kiss to the top of your head that he mistakenly thinks you don’t notice.

That night you fall asleep with a smile on your face, visions of pumpkins dancing through your mind and the small one that you bought resting on your nightstand beside you.

It’s the first thing you see when you wake up the next morning, and you reach out to take the small item in your palm. You’re convinced that you can still feel the warmth of Chenle’s hands cradling it as he placed it on the scale, recording the measurement before he gave the miniature pumpkin to Mark, who told you how much it cost. You were so eager to accept the small tote bag Chenle was extending out to you that you didn’t even bother asking for your change back, shoving the money into Mark’s hand and insisting that he keep it.

Your eyes land on the same bag, sitting in the corner of your room, and it makes your face break out into a bright grin. Not even bothered by how early you’ve woken up, you bound down the stairs for breakfast, the most excited for the day ahead you can ever remember being.

You spend the next couple of weeks visiting Chenle during his shifts at the festival, sometimes staying late enough for him to walk you home like he did that first day. With each time he sees you, he warms up to your presence, becoming more like his usual witty and hardly-ever-flustered self. Oddly enough you start to act less and less like a couple, which doesn’t go unnoticed by his friends. The incessant blushing is gradually replaced by sarcastic banter with one another. You don’t know anyone who makes you laugh like Chenle does.

“Hey,” he pipes up one afternoon as you’re watching him organize some pumpkins. “What if I dyed my hair this color?” Chenle points to one that’s a particularly vivid shade of orange, raising his eyebrows as you think of a reply.

“Then you’d look like a pumpkin,” you hum in response.

He chuckles. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?“

You shake your head. “Not necessarily. Are you really going to dye it, though?”

“Probably not.”

“As you wish, pumpkin.”

He whirls around, nearly dropping the stack of gourds in his hands. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me... pumpkin,” you smirk after repeating the new nickname, and it puts an impossibly cute pout on his face.

“Don’t call me that!”

You jokingly ruffle his hair, and Chenle’s small smile betrays his annoyed facade as he realizes he could get used to hearing the word roll off your tongue, not to mention you addressing him with it.

It’s the week of Halloween when the six boys that volunteer with Chenle at the festival meet up to create a plan that will, ideally, end with both of you confessing your feelings. All but one of them, which happens to be Mark, excitedly discuss possible ways to set you two up. Should they send you on a private hayride somehow? Or maybe they could get you to try out the corn maze together, and hopefully you would struggle with finding your way out long enough to express your mutual crushes on each other.

“I don’t know about this, guys. I still think we should just let them figure it out on their own.”

“You’re no fun, Mark,” Donghyuck chastises. The eldest shrugs, an expression of resignation on his face. At least he tried.

Finally, they decide on having both of you move between each of their respective areas or booths around the festival, dropping as many hints to you about the other’s infatuation as possible. First you’ll start the evening off by navigating through the corn maze, which they realize is impossible for you to get lost in since Chenle had to memorize the map of it. So much for their earlier plan.

After that, Renjun will usher you off towards Jisung’s station, the game area. Conveniently, he’ll suggest you play the balloon dart toss together, but there’s going to be a catch: one of you has to carry the other in their arms while they throw them. They laugh a little at how flustered they imagine you’ll get.

Next, Mark and Donghyuck will help you pick out the best pumpkin to carve for the upcoming holiday. You’ll start to pick it up, but Chenle will insist on holding it instead. If you had heard this, you would be fuming. Who says you’re not strong enough to carry a pumpkin on your own? You’ll show them.

To end the night, Jaemin and Jeno will “accidentally” only give you one stick of cotton candy, forcing you to share. By that time, they hope you’ll be perceptive enough to finally see that the attraction is mutual, diminishing the fear of rejection in both of your minds.

Not so surprisingly, nothing would go as planned.

The boys put their little scheme into action on the night of October 30th. Chenle is actually finished with his days of volunteering at this point, and even though he could stay home after working many long hours over the past few weeks, he opts to visit the festival as a guest this evening, with you by his side.

He picks you up outside of your house, waiting on the sidewalk right next to the same lamp post that the flyer for the festival was taped to, also known as the entire reason why you’re in this situation in the first place. If you hadn’t taken the time to read those words on the purple-colored page, you honestly don’t know where you’d be right now.

Dressed in your favorite and coziest autumn outfit, you practically fly down the stairs of your front porch to greet him. Like you’ve gotten used to doing by now, he holds your hand in his as you walk, taking the same route you always do.

Chenle’s heart beats a little faster when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of the festival in the distance. For the first time, you’ll both be able to enjoy the event together without being bombarded by constant requests to help with various tasks throughout the night. Or so you thought.

From the moment you step foot inside the grounds, Jisung is already standing at the entrance and hurriedly directing you to the corn maze. Confused but obedient nonetheless, you both head towards where his finger is pointing.

Chenle knows something is up as soon as he sees a familiar mischievous twinkle in Renjun’s dark eyes. “You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” he tells you.

“Chenle, it’s a maze. I don’t think they work like that.” He ignores your playful sarcasm.

Speaking in the quietest voice he can muster, which is quite a feat for him, Chenle leans in close to whisper harshly in the older boy’s ear. “What are you trying to pull?”

At a volume level that’s loud enough for you to hear, Renjun replies, “The others and I thought it would be fun to plan out your evening a little! So first we want you to start here, at the corn maze.”

“Aw, really? That sounds like fun!” Oblivious to the group’s true motives, you endorse their plan with your words. “Better get started,” Renjun winks. As you turn to make your way in between the tall rows of vegetables, he roughly yanks Chenle backward to quietly say, “There isn’t a more perfect time to confess to them, I mean, a romantic autumn night at the festival? Make a move already,” he encourages.

Glowering back at him, Chenle reluctantly follows you into the maze.

Only 15 minutes later you emerge from the corn stalks, the boys’ scheme momentarily forgotten. It quickly comes to mind again when you find Jisung waiting outside for you for the second time that night. One time too many, in Chenle’s opinion.

Not missing a beat, the younger of the two boys leads you both over to the area he’s assigned to. The wall of colorful balloons catches your attention immediately. “Let’s play this one!” You exclaim as you tug on his sleeve like a little kid. Delighted with your choice, Jisung quickly explains the rules, but the twist he adds to them goes right over your head. In fact, you’re the one that offers to carry Chenle first. Neither of your faces turn pink with embarrassed blushes.

You don’t even bat an eyelash as you carry the pumpkin that you picked out together in your arms, much to Donghyuck’s dismay. Mark just stands to the side, amused at their attempts to artificially force confessions out of you. The singular stick of cotton candy that Jaemin hands to you over the counter of the concessions stand fails to phase either of you whatsoever, and you end up just pinching off small pieces from the sticky sweet dessert with your hands. Jeno points out your simple solution to the boy standing next to him, observing their failure. “Why didn’t we think of that?” He mumbles.

The six boys finally gather together when they collectively realize they didn’t succeed, but actually did just the opposite. Making a small circle, they start to argue and pointlessly blame one another for causing everything to go wrong. You only manage to catch a few words of their heated conversation, but something in your gut tells you that they were up to more than just creating a schedule of activities for you to follow.

Exchanging glances, you and Chenle nod at each other, about to try and quietly slip away from them. Hand in hand, you take careful steps backwards, but before you can dash away Mark catches sight of you. Thankfully, he smiles a little and puts a finger to his lips, making a “shh” sign as he waves his hand in a signal for you to hurry up.

Abandoning all of your cares, you give up on going unnoticed by the group and shamelessly scamper off in the opposite direction.

“Wait, I know that place!” You shout excitedly as you pass a small playground meant for the younger visitors to the festival. “Can we go over there?” You plead with him, but you suppose you shouldn’t call it that since he gives in to your request so easily.

The child-sized vehicle standing in the center of the play area is a familiar sight to you, and Chenle knows what you’re about to ask him before you even open your mouth. “Go ahead,” he says with a loving smile on his face as he motions to the carriage, designed to look like the very object that the entire festival itself centers around. Catching up to you, Chenle steps forward a little so that he reaches the small stairs leading up to it first.

“Your highness,” Chenle bows, crossing one foot behind the other and bending a knee. Opening the creaky door to the pumpkin carriage for you, he gestures to the inside of the oversized fruit, the graceful movement ushering you to climb inside. You bashfully tug on your striped scarf, holding the woolen material up against your cheeks as you laugh at his chivalrous display. It tickles a little, and he thinks you look even more adorable bundled up like that.

The interior is much smaller than you remember. But then again, you had been much smaller the last time you sat in this very seat.

Calling the inside of the carriage cramped is an understatement. There are two narrow benches on either side of it, the space on the floor between them barely enough to fit the legs of one occupant, much less two. Chenle struggles but eventually sits down across from you, unintentionally forcing your knees to rest in between his. The small windows on the squeaky, rusty doors do little to let in any light whatsoever. In the darkness, you can’t see the boy’s face flush at your closeness.

‘What now?’ You think to yourself, wondering if you’re brave enough in this moment to finally tell him how you feel, how much you enjoy his company, how special he’s become to you. And though you don’t know it, across from you Chenle is contemplating doing the same. He beats you to it with his next actions.

Your racing train of thought skids to an abrupt halt when you feel his hand on the lower part of your thigh, touch innocent and timid as it lingers on the soft fabric of your corduroy pants.

Eyes hurriedly adjusting to the dim space surrounding you, you feel his fingers grasp your own before you see them. At last you make eye contact with each other, gazes boring into one another and recognizing the same things, the same feelings in them. Chenle’s clutching your hand in his now, the first still resting comfortably on your thigh, and you feel the dull sensation of his legs bending inward, squeezing your knees together. His mouth opens, rounded lips parting as though to ask the question that you both already know the answer to. You bring an arm up to hold him by the shoulder, the movement in itself confirming that this is what you want as well. That he’s what you want.

Careful not to bump your heads against the low ceiling of the carriage, he leans towards you, closing the already minimal distance between your faces as he meets your lips in a kiss.

Heads tilting and eyelashes fluttering shut at the same instant, you both pour every unspoken thought, every secret glance, every loving word that never made it past your lips into the contact they currently share. The moment itself feels long overdue, like something you could have done on that first day you spent at the festival together.

It means more this way, though. The amount of time it took for this to happen gave you more time to discover and get comfortable with the way you feel about Chenle. To get comfortable with him. His presence, his humor, his personality, his touch, everything about him is something you’ve grown to depend on over these past few weeks.

Even your lips begin to depend on Chenle as they fall into place against his own, moving with a fervor you weren’t even aware you possessed.

There’s a quiet rhythm to the osculation of your lips, an airy sigh or breath from one of you breaking the silence every few seconds. In the midst of the indescribably wonderful sensation that is the kiss you’re sharing, you faintly feel his hand start to move up and down your leg, not in a provocative way but a reassuring one. His loving caresses have you leaning further into him even though there’s barely enough room to do so, making you wish for one reason and one reason alone that you were having this kiss somewhere else. Otherwise, the location is perfect.

More than a decade has passed since you were just a young child, begrudgingly posing for a photo for your parents by poking your head out through the same small window of the carriage. Since then, the orange of the paint has dulled, the once-soft carpet on the floor has become coarse from the countless shoes that have trodden over it. The wooden doors are splintered and, though never functional, the carriage’s large wheels have undoubtedly begun to show their age with the amount of dirt and dust caught in the grooves.

You’ve made many memories in this place, but the one you’re making today is sure to be unforgettable.

Chenle would give anything to be able to hold you right now, to maybe bring you onto his lap in a tender embrace as he shows you just how fast and how hard he’s fallen for you. Not that volunteering at the festival was a bad thing at all, but you made it so much more bearable, so much more fun. The thought of spending another perfect day with you was more than enough to get him out of bed every morning.

He compromises for the restrictions that the enclosed space places on your movements by untangling his fingers from yours, choosing to cup your cheek with them instead. You’re a little disappointed when his hand lifts from its place on your thigh, anxiousness bubbling up in your gut as you anticipate where he’s going to place it next.

It’s safe to say you just about melt when you feel his palm come up to delicately cradle one side of your chin, thumb darting out to glide along the skin that’s just below your bottom lip. Arching into him, you make the most of the little room you have left to pull him closer.

It’s then that your lungs finally catch up to both of you, sending simultaneous signals telling you to breathe. Granted, Chenle’s kisses feel like all the oxygen you’ll ever need anyway.

Reluctantly leaning away, your chests heave with muted but sharp gasps. A pang of worry hits you when he doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh, doesn’t say anything. His mouth has fallen open, eyes wide with just as much anticipation as you feel. Taking what feels like the biggest breath in your life, you pray your voice doesn’t tremble as you speak for the first time since you clambered into the dark, cozy carriage.

“I really like you, Chenle.”

The relief that washes over you when he responds is unlike any you’ve ever felt before.

“I like you, too.”

But he’s not done.

“...A lot, in case you hadn’t noticed.” The extra detail makes you giggle, smiling shyly at anything that isn’t him.

He goes to lean in again when you stop him. “Wait, wait, can we at least get out of here first? I want to do this properly.”

You scoot sideways after he nods in agreement, far enough for him to open the door and step down from the elevated imitation of a pumpkin. He extends a hand up to you once he’s on solid ground again, and you take it. His face breaks into that signature bubbly grin of his that’s more contagious than you’d like to admit.

Joining him on the grassy surface, you dramatically stretch your arms out in front of you, waiting for him to reciprocate the hug you’re implicitly requesting.

The impish twinkle in his eye you know so well appears with his next words. “Can I pick you up?”

“You’ll drop me!” You retort, scoffing.

“Aw, c’mon! No I won’t,” he pouts. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you do.”

Strong arms envelop your form as he lifts you into the air, only to pull you tightly against his torso. Not even the world’s fluffiest blanket can compare to the fleecy warm softness of the plaid shirt and sweater vest he’s wearing.

The enamored smile on Chenle’s face is the kind that would have made you weak in the knees if you were standing. Forgetting that you’re no longer shielded from the world by the carriage’s privacy, he presses your foreheads together and cutely nuzzles your nose with his own.

Framing his sharp jawline with both of your hands, you lean in to share a second kiss with the boy you wish you had gotten to know sooner. It’s no use wondering about what could have been, however, so for now you decide to focus on only this moment, only these lips, only Chenle. The way he smiles into the kiss has you reeling with affection.

Not even the distant cheers that just barely reach your eardrums can tear you away from each other.

When you feel as though the kiss has conveyed all you want and need to say to one another, Chenle begins to mumble against your lips. In a voice low enough for only you to hear, he says, “We’re going to have to face them sooner or later, you know.”

“How about never?” You reply, grumbling.

“Just follow my lead, okay? I’m used to their teasing,” he comforts.

“If you say so...”

Breaking out of the kiss-induced daze, you both look over to where the six boys stand, clapping and pumping their fists in the air in celebration with one another.

One of them, probably Renjun, you can’t quite tell, cups his hands around his mouth in preparation for the shout that leaves it not even a second later.

“It’s about damn time!”

“I told you guys if we just left them alone they’d figure it out themselves!” Mark adds triumphantly.

Apparently more than one kiss is one too many for his friends to see, and enough to make the small group turn away, yelling for you to “get a room” at the top of their lungs. You feel Chenle smirk against your lips at their repulsed reactions.

“Serves them right.”

You agree.

You’ve never had someone to spend Halloween night with before, and boy does this stress Chenle out to no end. He wants everything to be perfect, wants to do everything that a couple should do on such a holiday. “It’s really not a big deal, Chenle,” you insist sympathetically as he paces your living room floor, currently obsessing over what costumes you should wear.

“But... it’s you, and you’re a big deal. A big deal to me. I just want to make you happy.”

“Nothing could make me happier than being able to call you mine,” you proclaim proudly, enjoying the way his face practically turns into a tomato when what you’ve just said registers in his brain. “Stop it,” he stutters, lowering his head to stare at the carpet under his feet. You just giggle.

The excitement of the night is unlike any other. Your neighborhood’s streets are full of mostly children, but some adults and grandparents too, all taking part in the festivities. Going from doorstep to doorstep, you chant the famous three-word phrase at each house, assuring anyone who answers the door that you’re never too old to trick or treat if they ask. You get lots of compliments on your matching costumes: Chenle’s dressed as Sully and you’re Mike Wazowski from Monsters Inc. The soft fur on his outfit makes it extremely difficult for you to hold yourself back from hugging him any chance you get.

With your bags full of enough candy to last you two months at least, you return home for the night, this time crashing at his place. Despite the fact that it’s already getting late, both of you quickly change into some more comfortable clothes before settling in on his couch for a Halloween movie marathon.

“How about...” Chenle scrolls through the large selection of films on the screen. “The Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“No!” You cry out abruptly, lightly pounding against his chest with one of your fists before returning it to its original position around his waist.

Looking down at you, currently curled up in his lap with your other arm thrown rather lazily over his sturdy shoulders and your side pressing into his torso, he asks, “Why not?”

In a small voice, you respond. “It... gave me nightmares when I was little.”

“Really? A Disney movie?”

“Yes, now can we please stop talking about it and pick something else?”

“Aw, are you scared?”

“Shut up!” You whine shyly, burying your face as far as it would go into the thin fabric of his loose white t-shirt.

“Hey,” he hushes you, “I’m not making fun of you, baby. It’s okay... I’ve got you.”

Chenle swears he feels the warmth of your blush against his shoulder, generated by his unusual use of that particular term of endearment.

He runs a reassuring palm along one of your arms down to your hand. Effortlessly he winds each of his fingers around yours, like piecing together the most delicate of puzzles, and you remember how this action would have flustered both of you beyond belief mere weeks before. It’s become so simple, so instinctive a movement, saying everything you need to know without even the slightest whisper of a word in the air.

Rubbing small circles into the skin on the back of your neck with his other hand, he holds you close, the harsh light from the television illuminating your form as it clings to his.

You eventually decide on an actual horror movie that leaves you muffling your shrieks with a pillow, but Chenle just laughs with a pitch so high that it reminds you of a certain marine mammal. You scold him by giving his shoulder a whack. “Shh, Chenle! You’re going to wake the whole neighborhood up!”

“Hey, you were screaming too!”

“That’s not screaming, that’s called laughing, you dummy.”

Hours later, Chenle’s arm hangs limply down into the large bowl of treats you’ve been sharing. The soft snores next to your ear tell you that he’s fallen asleep. His family finds you two knocked out cold the next morning, covered in fuzzy blankets and colorful candy wrappers strewn about the sofa.

Indeed, this would be a Halloween to remember, and you hope to spend many more together in the future. With Chenle in your arms right now, there’s no place in this world that you would rather be. And it’s all thanks to a flimsy piece of paper on a lamp post.

[sadachmesarthim]

C-cowboy starker? What if cowboy starker, I mean? I think... cattle driver Tony maybe, and ranch hand Peter,,, always wanted to write about this but I’m shy 🙈

mid-writing edit: i’ve spent half an hour on this and my computer is literally lagging with how fast i’m typing. i really hope this makes sense because holy shit, i love cowboy starker. anon, i need you in my inbox every single fucking time you have an idea about starker. idk if it’s in passing, idk if it’s super fleeting and doesn’t make sense. anon, you are my muse

ohhhhh my god anon i ,, love this idea so much i’ve actually thought about this a bit ngl you don’t even know how much i like western aus

okay so hear me out:

i’m thinking brokeback type shit, right?? but just a tad different like be honest who doesn’t like the whole bbm trope yfm and twink jake gyllenhaal is my baby okay okay okay sorry babe i’m still crossfaded as fuck and i could talk about that movie for days anyway back on topic

- no okay but think of it - tony, he’s recently divorced and morgan, his baby girl, his one and only daughter, she’s 19 now and seeing this absolute gentleman of a roughneck. his house is empty, he isn’t paying child support anymore, he doesn’t have this bitchy redhead on his ass 24/7 about getting a job in the city

- because tony hates the city, hates that his father dragged them away from the mountains and prairies he remembers from his childhood. hates what the city gave him - black eyes and mean names and disappointed parents

- so tony high tailed it the fuck out of dodge the second he turned 18. abandoned school, abandoned his family, took his beat up ford out to montana and disappeared. married this nice girl, virginia pepper, worked construction to support her while she went to school. had a pretty baby girl a year or two later. moved both of his girls out to a ranch he bought with their tiny savings, got a couple’a cows and a horse and made friends with a neighbor with a bull

- but eventually, pep had bigger dreams. they were both young when they got married, didn’t look past the immediate sexual compatibility to see that their futures were well and truly not going to go well together

- so she left the ranch, took morgan with, and made her way to the city. became some big lawyer or doctor or businesswoman or something, tony didn’t know. didn’t really care because the child support invoices still came every single month like clockwork. 

- so instead of focusing on his distant daughter and his ex wife that wouldn’t listen to him and his family that just... didn’t understand, he threw himself into the wildlife around him

- became closer with those neighbors that had a bull. eventually came to an agreement and let him free with his girls

- built a very solid herd of highlanders in a handful of years, slowly attracting the attention of more and more owners wanting to trade, to buy, to sell 

- and maybe one year, he realizes, he’s in a bit too far over his head with this. he has 100 of these four legged fuckers, he has 50 acres to take care of by himself, he has horses to feed and shoe and groom. he has fields to plant and water and harvest if he wants to feed any of the animals mentioned above

- so he reaches out to his neighbors, puts feelers out and sees if anyone knows a farmhand who’d want to help him out, maybe live on the property full time for a bit. and when he gets a call back his heart breaks a bit, because oh my god he wasn’t prepared for this

- a kid, can’t have been more than morgan’s age, has responded to him, and he’s good with his hands mr. stark, and he knows his way around animals mr. stark, been takin’ care of ‘em for his whole life now mr. stark 

- and this kid is ,, he sounds so innocent and sweet there’s no way tony’s gonna say yes before he actually meets him 

- so tony gives the kid his address, tells him to come out and give things a once over before he makes his mind up

- so peter does. he comes out, introduces himself, looks around the property with tony. and tonys heart hurts, because this kid, this kid that’s standing right in front of him, is almost skin and bones and looks like he’s about to crumble into dust and blow away in his hands

- he brings peter into the house, brings him coffee, offers him food. even after peter politely declines he brings over some bread to share, maybe a slice of pie?? maybe tony can cook and bake. he has a sweet tooth after all, and he’s been on his own for the better part of two decades. 

- and he really gets to know peter. they sit, they talk, until the sun dips down and the open mountain chill takes over them

- and peter tells him that he’s been on his own for a couple of years, that his parents died when he was young and that his aunt and uncle took him in on their ranch. that he grew up around animals, working, helping out

- but when they died the property was repossessed by the bank and peter’d all but ran with ben’s keys and the clothes on his back. he’s been on the road ever since, going from missouri to texas to wyoming to montana, all in search of work, never staying in one place longer than a few months. 

- he doesn’t tell tony that he’s secretly so, so tired of life on the road. doesn’t say how elated he was when he heard someone was looking for a fairly long-term live in farm hand. because that’s something he knew, something he was good at. 

- he also doesn’t tell tony that his heart skipped several beats in a row the second peter laid eyes on him, and that he really wants to work for the gorgeous man in front of him

- it’s finally dark, his coffee cup is long empty and abandoned and peter’s just spilled nearly every single deep dark secret he’s ever had. tony’s closing the windows, and peter makes for the door. he’s taken up enough of this beautiful kind man’s time, he should leave before he stays even further past his welcome

- but tony’s stopping him, blocking him from the door, lightly grabbing his wrist and turning peter to face him fully

- and he’s asking begging pleading  telling peter he should stay, that the spare room upstairs is warm and not going to be used anytime soon. that he still needs a farmhand and, as he sees it, peter’s already here

- secretly, tony can’t stand to see him leave

- he couldn’t handle letting his man this... kid, really, leave. not when tony could provide for him. not when he could feed him until his edges soften and his cheeks round out and his tummy gets squishy. not when he could work him into a sweat outside, watch that paperwhite skin turn a rich tan under the summer sun

- not even when he realizes the sudden care for the orphan in front of him is slowly becoming less familial, less platonic, and more... instinctual. base. greedy. 

- because who better to make sure this kid is looked after than tony? tony, who has work-worn hands and time-softened eyes and cooking skills any bachelor would die for

- it’s honestly not even that shocking to him when peter says yes

- not when he takes his hand off the doorknob and immediately turns, immediately breathes out a “yes, yes of course mr. stark, thank you so much mr. stark, i’ll do whatever you need me to, you’re incredible mr. stark”

- and it all immediately goes to tony’s dick head because fuck, that was not the intended reaction but it was absolutely welcome, what the fuck

- so tony takes him upstairs, gets peter settled in the guest bedroom right across from his own

- and when he goes to bed that night he absolutely does not touch himself while thinking about the barely 20something thats maybe 10 feet away. doesn’t think about what peter said earlier, with tony’s hand wrapped around his wrist

- absolutely doesn’t cum with peter’s name on his lips, biting down on his knuckles so peter doesn’t hear

- and peter absolutely doesn’t cum with three fingers in his ass, tears streaming down his face, listening to the creaking mattress springs and heavy breathing from across the hall. of course he doesn’t

- and of course they don’t get along well. of course not. of course they don’t work together like they’re telepathically connected, not even needing to speak to know what the other is thinking. it’s like peter can read his mind, knowing exactly what needs done when

- but it’s not just tony. peter can tell before anyone else when the farrier needs to be called. when one of the girls is pregnant, even before she starts showing. knows when one of the cattle dogs has a hurt paw without even seeing him. can tell when it’s going to rain, so he knows whether or not it’ll be a good day to cut the alfalfa fields

- it’s a little freaky to be honest but tony doesn’t hate it. it’s really useful with everything on the farm, and it’s... it’s nice. having someone that can so effortlessly understand him. 

- it’s also like peters... totally unaware of it. like he doesn’t even know he knows things he shouldnt know. which blows tony’s mind even more. 

- it kinda turns him on, and he finds himself with his hand around his cock wondering if peter knows he’s getting off thinking about him. like, more than once. maybe even more than once a week. definitely more than once a week. 

- and maybe peters kind of catching on, a little. that maybe his feelings toward his employer/landlord/new friend are shared

- it also doesn’t help that he gets uncontrollably aroused every time tony goes to bed. like. every... single... time...

- peter always knew he was.. attentive. but he didn’t know it would manifest as literally feeling tony’s arousal through the fucking walls

- and it doesn’t help that peter’s filling out. he’s getting darker as the months get warmer, he’s getting significantly more meat on his bones now that he’s eating more and working more

- and it really doesn’t help that tony is getting eyefuls of the half naked ranch hand almost 24/7. it’s really not his fault that peter works better without a shirt on

- and maybe it comes to a head one day. maybe they’re picking up alfalfa bales from one of the fields and they stop to take a break and tony just ,, can’t handle sweaty, tan, barely-a-twink-anymore peter.

- and peter can feel it, with his ,, unique senses, that tony’s watching him. like, a lot. like, way more than normal even 

- so he decides to play it up a bit. he takes his shirt off, he throws his gloves in the bed of the truck and balls the tee in his hands, wiping his face off with it and sighing deeply

- and he knows tony saw that because he could fucking hear tony’s breathing change and he smirks a little bit, because that’s enough confirmation for him to know for sure

- so he looks up, and he meets tony’s eyes, and they’re wild and feral and tony looks like one of the wolves that tried to take out one of their cows last winter - hungry and ready to devour what was in front of him

- and peter just looks at him, a little incredulous, and finally speaks up: ‘you gonna get over here ‘n kiss me, or what?’ - and tony fucking breaks

- he turns the truck off and slams the door when he gets out, grabbing peter by the neck and fucking dragging him against tony’s clothed body

- “do you know what you’ve been doing this whole time?” 

- of course peter does, tony, you fucking moron. he knows and he’s been trying to get you to rip him to shreds, dumbass. you’re just oblivious

- but tony still can’t help but see the tiny young man that walked up on his doorstep those years ago, can’t help but want to protect him and keep him safe and warm and fed 

- so of course tony wanted to go slow, and wanted to be gentle with peter

- but pete was having fucking none of that, because oh my god tony i’m not 19 anymore please just fuck me already and been wanting you for way too long and please tony just--  and he grabs tony’s hand and makes him squeeze even harder

- and it’s hot, and it’s messy, and it’s not even really sex, just them rutting and grabbing and jerking each other off up against the door of tony’s truck, belt buckles undone and jeans just barely tugged down

- and tony’s basking in it, watching peter’s eyes screw shut and his pretty plush lips open and the little ‘aah, nngh fuck, tony’s that push their way from his throat

- and he knows, the second they’re done here, they’re abandoning their work for the day and he’s taking peter back to the house and he’s going to show him what this is like for real, what it means to be touched with intention and love and emotion behind it - not just a quick handjob standing in the hay field

- and he does. he worships peter’s body when they get back to the house

- he kisses every single part of him, nips at the tiny bit of excess fat on his stomach and thighs and hips, relishing in the fact that peter is his, his to take care of, his to keep safe and healthy and happy

- and eventually, the guest room opens up again. peter’s stuff slowly moves into tony’s room. he stops getting paid, but that’s okay

- because why would you get paid to work on your own farm?