#golden apple village au

[iceemoondemon]

Some doodles regarding my AU

[persicipen]

𝐼. lapis lazuli ノ neuvillette

𝐬𝐞𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲. ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

₊ ˙ ⊹ . about the storm raging through the night, the abyssal creature of ethereal features, the warmth of the stove.

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 3.8k ノ fem reader — folktales au ノ no warnings for now . just some world building of the au ノ should be gn reader here but future chapters will be fem ノ first meeting with dragon neuvi ノ slightly ooc neuvillette — less human and not bound by the court ノ no beta i’m alone in this hehe but i hope it will be a nice read ♡

Beware the waters deep and blue, Where dragons’ whispers call to you. The sea will sing its siren’s song, And draw you where you don’t belong.

This is what kids here sing when playing another version of hide and seek, unknown to you, as you stroll through the morning market. Slightly over-ripe apples and quinces pile up on top of wooden carts, golden marzipan shines on display inside the window of the sweet shop, a gem among everyday pastries and baked goods.

As the grocery shopping was as boring as usual, you wondered about the rhyme, but only vaguely. Maybe some older folks will know the legends that inspired the verses to bloom or can point at the books in the library that have tasty remnants from local legends on their yellowed pages.

“Oh, you know, the same old story — someone’s daughter drowned, and they had to find a better explanation than their child’s stupidity,” one of the older ladies started the daily dose of gossip after hearing what’s on your mind.

Regardless of your willingness to join the elderly tea party at the outside table of the cafe, you’re pulled by their curious eyes and a free chair right next to them.

“Don’t be rude, Celine! There are some who quite recently lost their family to the flood!” complained the one to the left, adding a third spoon of sugar to her teacup.

“Well, it’s quite romantic if you consider it a suicide. Happened quite a few times in the history of our village. Some people long to reunite with nature,” said the one to the right, playing with her golden jewellery that probably weighed more than the bones of her skinny wrists.

“Like I said, stupidity! Do not listen to her, sugar! Bernadette is still mourning a lover from half a century ago who tried to convince her to take a dip together, and when she refused, he forgot about her!” bit back Celine, this time almost coughing into the black coffee she tried to drink while talking.

“Some say he simply moved to the city for better prospects. Well, since he hasn’t ever returned, it must’ve been successful,” added Bernadette, combing through her beetroot-crimson locks, dyed not long ago, before taking a sip of the mixture that’s probably more sugar than tea by now.

“I don’t blame him! The air here is foul!”

“Let them say what they want, but there’s still more magic present here, on the outskirts of civilization, than in the middle of the capital. It’s not for everyone!”

“You mean that kelpie that roams between the lake and the shore?”

“For example. You can’t find a kelpie in the metropolis, am I right?”

“It’s dangerous!”

“It wouldn’t eat you, anyway. You’re all bones and too bitter!”

The elderly ladies didn't stop gossiping for another hour, and it was too boring to listen to their recounts of good old days and how nowadays it’s all bad.

Now, back to the reason why you returned here—

Without any sense of purpose in the city anymore, you went back to the small village by the sea where you had lived before. Tranquil, secluded, and adorned with an antiquated charm, it had all the qualities you needed and none of the numbing, pulsing pace of the capital. Here, it was just wind, sand, and water, and your quaint little cottage with its direct view of the beach from the windows.

In the embrace of this village, you found yourself drawn to spending hours gazing out those windows, lost in thoughts and appreciating the ever-changing nature. Sometimes the weather was delicate, a pearlescent light seeping down onto the damp land, casting a silvery hue across the sands. Other times, it was brash, sudden, dark, and cut with blinding thunders, the sky tearing open to reveal the raw power of the elements. Morning mists covered the flat ground like a blanket, their fingers curling around the village, and even from a distance, the humid cold wafted in through the front door whenever you dared to take a peek outside.

Your life is alright now. Peaceful, at last. Too early for retirement, but perhaps none of the careers available in the principal city of the region were for you. You see and greet the old ladies you knew from your youth, tending to their plots of vegetables and flowers while listening to their gossip. Old ladies are always full of it and more than excited to share the sweet news with someone else.

Each day in the village feels like a page from a folktale, the air thick with stories from years before—no one even remembers who thought of it first, who added the unrealistic situations, and who told the truth. You hear whispers of ancient prophecies carried on the salty breeze, legends that have woven themselves into the very fabric of this place. The market is a trove of mysteries, where you sort through trinkets and treasures, each one with a story of its own.

The villagers speak of the sea serpents and dragons who sometimes venture too far into the bay, abandoning their kingdom of rough waves and open seas to take a rest through spring and autumn seasons. The sea itself is a living entity, its moods shifting from serene calm to tempestuous fury. On calm days, the water is a mirror, reflecting the sky’s soft blues and the occasional wisp of a cloud, pearlescent light seeping down onto damp land. But when storms roll in, the ocean roars and crashes against the spiky stones guarding the gulf, brash, sudden, dark and cut with blinding thunders right behind the nook. You find solace in these rhythms, the ways of nature comforting you in a way the city never could.

In your little cottage, surrounded by the mists, you’re stuck seeking a new purpose. Sorting letters at the nearby post office becomes a ritual, a way to connect with the lives and stories of the villagers. Each envelope, each package, a fragment of someone’s existence, a thread in the tapestry of the village’s collective narrative.

As the days blend into a gentle, melancholic rhythm, you start to understand why the villagers lean into experiencing the magical encounters. Partly because the days are dull, but there’s something in the air—an electrifying howl that brings pure magic from both the sea and the hills. It is said that the creatures appear to those who truly listen, who open their hearts to the whispers of the waves and the winds. You find yourself dreaming of the serpents and the dragons, perhaps having a preference for water beasts instead of these cutting through the air. Their shimmering scales and ancient eyes reappear whenever you drift off during your naps, feeling a connection that defies explanation. In these dreams, the dragon speaks to you in a language you cannot decipher yet understand the meaning within your soul, its voice a symphony of the sea.

Your return to the village is more than a retreat from the city; it is a journey into the heart of the unknown, a quest for meaning in a world of mist and magic. Here, in this place where time seems to stand still, maybe you will find yourself, too.

The transition from the early spring to a muggy start of the summer brings storms more violent than the winter ones. The bay is safe, but the roar of the sea and coal-black clouds wander into the land, rustling against your windows when you sip on the afternoon tea, warmly wrapped in the blanket while reading a book too old to guess its title from the worn-out cover.

It’s hard to focus on words, though. You still think about the fisherman who, earlier that week, caught a mermaid in his nets, all accidentally, but it worked as a catalyst for more exceptional meetings between the villagers and the magical creatures. The couple that rides the britzka to deliver the packages claimed they’d seen a dead kelpie further down the shore, devoured by something more evil—dangerous to horses, but not for humans, they quickly assured.

Your mind drifts to the dreams you’ve been having about the serpents and the dragons. They come in vivid fragments, again, taking your attention away from the printed sentences. It all leaves you with an inexplicable yearning, a sense that your life is intertwined with the mysteries of the sea in ways you are only beginning to understand.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminates the room, followed almost immediately by a crack of thunder that shakes the walls. Startled, you set your book aside and move to the window, peering through the rain-streaked glass. The weather outside is ferocious, waves sliding far onto the beach and taking the soil into the depths, carving new puddles and meanders. As you watch, something catches your eye—a figure, shining like a fallen star and indistinct, sprawled on the sand where the sea meets the land. Such a violent storm brought a creature to the shore.

“W-what is this…?” you mutter to yourself, struck with worry.

You throw on a cloak and rush out, the wind and rain lashing against you as you make your way to the shore.

The unconscious beast lies motionless, half-buried in the wet, murky sand, its chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

You would’ve thought it was a human at first, but as soon as you searched around its body for human traits, all you could focus on were the scales, the slippery skin, the bluish tints of the beautifully pale arms. The hair, iridescent and tangled with the sea foam, frames a face that is eerily beautiful and hauntingly white. A man, probably, so you hesitate to bring him home, but there’s no other place to help him.

Leaving him during a heavy rain on the beach would simply mean finding his dead body the next morning.

Gently, you kneel beside him, pausing only for a moment before you slip your arms under his body. It feels cool and strangely slick to the touch, but you manage to lift it, surprised by its lightness. Struggling against the wind, you carry him back to your cottage, your steps quickened by the urgency of the storm and the fragility of the being in your arms. Never has the short distance between your doors and the shore taken you so long to cross, inflicting panic along your limbs.

It doesn’t seem like it should stop pouring outside anytime soon when you set the unconscious body on the floor, dragging your hands across your face to wipe away the droplets running down from your hairline.

The pale man lies motionless, save for the rise and fall of his chest. Gently, you examine his face, with its long, elegant nose and high cheekbones, noticing how each trivial feature works together to create a visage that is oddly ethereal and entirely entrancing. You feel compelled to trace your fingers across it, to confirm the solidity of its beauty. It’s cold under your touch, a few grains of sand sticking to the clammy skin, yet still looking remarkably human, except for the hair, tinted a bluish shade from seawater. Even old people from the village have their hair muddy, incomparable to his starlight silver tresses.

Relieved that he is alive and in the warmth of your house regaining colour on his cheeks, you dash to prepare a bath. Scented with healing salt, you worry if it’s not too piping hot for him because the steam covers the entirety of your small bathroom. Some spare clothes — shirts too big for you and bought on a whim for a tiny price in one of the thrift stores of the city of Fontaine — are waiting on a chair nearby for when he’d be ready.

By the time you return to him, he’s blinking in a daze, half-sitting, half-lying.

“How do you feel?” you ask, helping him stand up. His long, sinewy limbs work perfectly, showing no signs of fatigue or pain from his body dragging against the stormy ocean, trying to cling onto survival. “I… my apologies for bringing you here! I feared you would be in danger if I didn’t bring you in.”

“Thank you for your concern…” His voice is weak, whispery like a lone gust of wind along the flat shore, the roar of the sea having been nothing but a memory now. He touches his forehead with his delicate fingers, shaking his head slightly. “It must’ve been terrible to wander outside during a storm.”

Despite your willingness to continue the conversation, you weren’t entirely sure if he’s strong enough to put him through questioning. Your head is bursting with doubts. To prevent it from overwhelming you in an instant, you change the topic, informing him about the readied bath and gently guiding him toward the inner door.

“You must be cold. I don’t want you to get sick, so please… I hope I can help you this much, at least with a bit of hospitality from my side. At least for the night.”

He only nods, entering the other room. When he raises his hands to reach out for the bathtub, the muscles move under the skin like slender fish, agile and beautiful.

“I will leave you alone now, but call for me if you need anything.”

You knock every so often to check on him, clean the rest of the main room while he takes a while, warming up and getting dressed. Forcing yourself to work on something, you push the worries to the back of your mind, folding the bedsheets with trembling fingers.

To have a stranger late at night in your house… not entirely human, a watery creature of handsome features. Who knows what can possibly happen if he stays here past midnight? But how could you throw someone out into the cold evening with nowhere else to go?

“Excuse me?” he calls softly, stepping behind you and catching you off-guard. “I apologise for presenting myself in such a state… It was not my intention to scare you off or to have you drag me out of the waters, risking your own health… Are you alright?” He pauses, not coming closer in regard to your comfort.

You look down at yourself, remembering only now that the sleeves of your chemise and the hem got soaked outside, and you forgot to change with all the cleaning activities you’ve been doing around the house.

“Yes, I am,” you breathe out, biting back the shame, turning fully to face him and offering a polite smile. “It’s me who should ask if you’re alright…”

He lets out a sigh, shaking his head slowly. “Nothing of your concern, rest assured. It might’ve been irresponsible of me to wander out of safety into the storm.”

“I… who… what are you exactly?” you mumble, picking up his damp clothes, a rag, what you would call in your mind but are too afraid to say out loud, from the floor. “Some sort of local deity?”

“A water dragon. But yes, known in this region very well. Most have seen my image through raindrops on their windows and the clouds gathering during stormy days.” He braids his shining palladium locks together with indigo strands growing out of his head, perhaps a pair of soft horns that look more like long ribbons in the shade of the clear depths.

“A dragon!” you repeat.

He chuckles softly. “You’ve never heard about them in myths? They’re common all around these parts.”

“I did! Yes, of course! It’s just… quite unthinkable, won’t you agree?” You turn your gaze to the floor. “I must sound like a fool.”

“Not at all. I’m sure your curiosity is reasonable.” He continues his soft smile, bringing in front of him the delicate hands, their webs shimmering in the dim light of the living room. “I owe you my life, after all. Even I have limits and a storm like the one wrecking havoc outside is no less lethal to me as to humans at sea… May I sit?”

You nod and start rummaging through the drawers and shelves of your kitchen in search of something to give him for dinner, feeling rude for not having prepared anything sooner. The small stove — if the warm embers were to be called so — was not to be used today anymore. Perhaps there’s still some leftovers from lunch, but that would be ridiculous to offer to someone who looks almost immaculate, dressed in your shirt with sleeves rolled up, save for his still damp hair. An evil twist of fate, to have a sudden guest of unimaginable elegance and charm, yet nothing of equal value to feed him. The plan was to get groceries tomorrow.

“A-Are you hungry? Or in need of a drink?”

“Not necessarily, though I do appreciate your kind offer. A warm water or tea will suffice.”

You set the kettle, unsure of what else to do. With a soft purring of the water inside and the creak of wood inside the stove, you shuffle your weight from one leg to another, clearly stiff under the unusual atmosphere. He seems of no danger, a subtle and slow creature resembling a true gentleman, if you were to describe him to someone else. Almost human, maybe even enough for you to forget about the mystical traits once you part with him, your memory remembering only a man washed ashore.

“So… Water dragons,” you start, afraid of where the conversation may lead to, “the village has many legends about dragons. Well, I wanted to believe them all… But to know that it’s really true, right here in front of me. Well, now it seems like a different tale.”

He hums softly in response, looking at you with attentive eyes, sincere yet somewhat guarded. He’s hesitant to give away too much, it seems.

“What are they like? W-what is your kin doing here? If… If I may ask.”

He ponders on it for a moment, no harm in your innocent question besides being slightly invasive. What a mere mortal may want to know about magical species? After all, he’s been returning to the bay exactly because of those good elemental energy currents — they must be affecting people living here, too.

“Well, dragons live mostly in solitude, having large territories for themselves. Though, mostly there’s a certain purpose behind it. But I shall spare you the monotonous details.” He holds his hands together, leaning back in the chair. “Peninsulas and bays are relatively safe, so we come there to rest, to mate, to remake old spells guarding the shore, to replenish mana near our birthplace.”

You listen closely, staring at the ceiling and praying that the water will boil faster, soon, to give you an excuse to step away. Not only from the embarrassment of these topics, but the throbbing in your chest making it difficult to breathe, an unfamiliar smell reaching your nose, coating your lungs with a sweetness hard to get outside the honey delivery to the market. It’s not tea, not this time, albeit you picked a good one, a special one to treat your guest with generous care.

“Huh…”

“Is everything alright?” He stops the monologue, cautiously eyeing your silhouette.

“Just tired. It must be the pressure change from the weather. I usually am not performing any exercises at this hour. I… I would be going to bed soon, actually.” Admitting it turns into a pang of guilt dashing across your shoulders.

“Would you like me to stay somewhere else? I don’t want to cause any trouble…”

“N-No! Please, worry not!” You shake your head, surprised by the sound of your own voice dying in the stuffy air of the cottage. “There’s nowhere else to go at this hour here… I thought of taking you to the doctor in the morning. But I cannot imagine letting you out during the storm! Even a short walk to the closest neighbour is too risky now…” You admit with defeat, not wishing to sound that desperate. Albeit, appearing too caring is still better than treating a presumably wounded guest with icy coldness.

The nameless visitor just glances across your body, eyebrows furrowed in a handsome expression of concern — that would not be gentlemanly to let you suffer from the exhaustion just because he was careless in his sea ventures. How are you even that trusting, even more after he revealed his true nature? Shouldn’t humans be scared or suspicious in such moments? Is there really no other way and you play along, acting like it doesn’t bother you — but in reality, it does?

He sighs, letting go of the topic, at least for the time being, while you’re busy hiding your emotions behind the act of pouring tea into the cups. Observant of your actions, as if waiting for a chance, he keeps his iridescent eyes on your hands.

“Do you need help with that? You’re shaking. Careful with the boiling water…” He muses quietly, but the answer is in your reluctant headshake.

The gentle dance of fiery pixies from the candles and the lamps scattered on shelves and other flat surfaces around the house gives a vibe much warmer than the actual temperature inside. You never liked fire, to be honest, not that much, but at this hour you wouldn’t say no to a gentle flame coaxing you into its arms for warmth and solace. For all the issues your little stove causes you per year, you’re glad it’s enough to heat your creaky cottage during the colder months.

When you pass him a cup, his webbed fingers linger around yours a little longer than necessary.

What was this peculiar feeling? Wasn’t it just you misinterpreting the situation? Everything was weird since the moment you met him. How could you know if he truly does not possess the will to harm you? So far, you were ready to invite him in, offer him a spare bedroom, lend him some of your clothes. But just when you started questioning your decision, you wobble on your legs and lose your balance.

There’s a feeling of emptiness around you, so precipitous that your knees bend and you close your eyes with an exclamation. The man reaches out, catching you before you fall to the floor, already unconscious…

For those who gaze into the tide, May find their hearts with dragons tied. But heed this warning, lest you fall, The sea’s embrace will claim you all.

[leonw4nter]

hello ! i REALLY love your writing style !! 💘 i was wondering if i could request a leon fic where it is set in medieval times. i was thinking about where the reader and leon was on a romantic boat ride? the one just like from the movie tangled where flynn and rapunzel decided to take a boat ride under the flying lanterns? i think it would be too cute for that kind of scenario ❤️ ty!!

I See The Light

Knight!RE4R!Leon x GN!Reader AU

Leon trades his usual day of training and standing on his guard’s post for a scene of music and flowers alongside you, strolling along tree-lined streets as he holds your hand; the gentle pressure of his calloused fingers against your knuckles is a grounding sensation, keeping you anchored to this shared moment of peace with your lover. The subtle squeeze of his palms encasing your hand sent waves of reassurance that he will be here to stay for the years to come, to endure the passing of time alongside you. He hears your twinkling voice, practically seeing a small smile in your lips as you discuss what it could possibly feel like if one could float; your eyes were squinted and sparkly, like sun-lit waters of a relatively calm ocean; each gust of a breath expelled with every laugh of yours causes his heart to feel as if the wind lifts it closer to heaven. He nods to your words, the rest of the world fading away the more he listens to you. How funny that you rambled on and on about wanting to float, to feel the wind push your hair back for you as you felt the sky on the tips of your fingers, and Leon could describe the overwhelming sensation you trigger from him as floating; floating, but not drifting away from you. Your presence wields an imperceivable, powerful force that links him to you as the world around him swirls in a blur of greens, blues, pinks, and browns yet he is fixated on you and you alone. He cannot deny the force of his physical attraction towards you but you have given him a chance to peer beyond every smile and frown, to swim in the vast ocean of your dreams and fears; that is more than enough to captivate him fully, more than any external charm.

Your rambling had halted, much to Leon’s slight disappointment, when the purple and yellow banners overhead came into view. Just like the banners, everything else was in purple and yellow, adorned with an intricate illustration of the kingdom’s sun emblem. The children’s laughter and songs breathed life into the air of the festivity, hands dirtied with colorful chalks as they doodled on the stony ground while some played or braided hair. The center of the village is a marvel of pansies and zinnias as butterflies flit from one blossom to another, wings shimmering as iridescent film catches the sun’s golden ray. Stalls were overflowing with daffodils, daisies, and sunflowers; archways and trellis were hung with garlands of wisteria; flower crowns of various flora adorned the heads of villagers. The perfume-like fragrances of the flowers mingled with the cool air to a degree that did not overwhelm one’s sense of smell. Decorated carts peddled sweet and savory treats for cheap, some of them followed by long lines of patrons eager to have a bite. Leon sniffed a whiff of cinnamon and apples in the air, eyes immediately scanning the crowd for the source of the delightful aroma; he knew you liked apple pastries or any treat with apples and he intended on giving you just that. Spotting a small cart run by some children, he squeezed your hand to get your attention.

“My dove, how does an apple and cinnamon fritter sound?” He softly asks with an eager smile.

You light up at the proposition of a snack, forgetting the call of your empty stomach pleading for a meal; you were far too busy admiring the sights around you… maybe also distracted by the work of art whose hand is entwined with yours, stealing momentary glances when his eyes were not fixated on you.

“It sounds perfect,” you breathed. “Where are you going to get it?”

He gestures to the small stall up ahead; a wooden cart with large red wheels, the faded red paint chipping away to reveal the wood it concealed. Child-like doodles of apples and small brown lumps adorn the body of the cart.

“There,” he says. You nod and he leads the way, occasionally looking back at you to check if you’re still trailing behind him.

While his gaze is trained elsewhere aside from you (a rare instance for this day), you take the time to admire the back of your mon nounours. He stood tall and imposing, exuding an aura of strength and resiliency despite having shed the silver plate of armor he is usually spotted donning; his blond hair reflected the almost-setting sun, casting a sheen that can be likened to a halo. The fit of his black tunic accentuated the ripples and lines of his back, muscles earned through several years of rigorous training and exercise. His vest accentuated the tapering of his waist, a perfect curve meant for your hands to perch upon. The fabric of his garments moved with him in each step, revealing the confidence and fluidity of a skilled knight even without protective metal plates. Soon, you two stand in front of the humble stall. You admire the array of different apple snacks besides the fritters you set your sights on– apple tarts, small apple cakes, apple pies, and apple bread.

“How much will 6 of the apple fritters cost?” He asks, a hand reaching for a pouch he kept on the inside of his vest.

A little girl hops off of the small stool she sat on, attending to Leon’s query. “It’ll be 6 silver pennies.”

“I’ll have 6 of those then,” he decides. You’ve shifted your hold on him, a hand now linked near the crook of his arm.

The slightly stronger cooling wind swept Leon’s dirty blond fringe, tresses slowly resembling a bird’s nest atop his head. Flowers swayed delicately like dances in colorful skirts and eccentric hats; trees and grass rustle softly, a soothing symphony harmonizing with the whispers of the wind. The blond knight beside you kept a hand over his hair, strands now tousled into a disarray.

The child takes the steamier fritters and places them inside a small pouch, counting and making sure to choose the best and tastiest-looking ones. She finishes up, standing on her tiptoes to hand your lover the treat, while Leon places his fees on her tiny palm. She giggles, gaze occasionally glancing at his hair. You pick up on this, bending down to the kid’s level with a wicked grin.

“There is a wildness to his hair, right?” you quietly ask before she nods in agreement.

“It resembles a lion’s windswept mane,” she added with a grin. Leon huffed, trying to flatten the disarrayed tangle.

“I think it’s alright, my love. Do you not like it when my hair is this way?” Leon asked, a little self-conscious now.

“Yes, I do love it mon nounours. You look less… standoffish. Less unapproachable. But I take it that it bothers you slightly.”

He nods, a silent affirmation to your statement of his hair slightly bothering him. Thinner strands have already poked his eye, causing them to slightly water.

“My sisters and I know how to weave crowns like those,” the little shop girl gestures to the passersby with crowns of flora. “We can weave you one quickly to keep your hair away from your face. We will not charge.”

Your face lights up at the proposition, tugging on Leon’s arm a little tighter now. He looks a little embarrassed, looking elsewhere as a burst of pink manifests itself on the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. You give him a pleading look, pushing your bottom lip into an exaggerated pout.

“Love, please? It sounds lovely, we can properly blend in with the rest of the kingdom! You will look lovely, I assure you. And besides, don’t the little girls sound adorable?”

Leon sighs, looking down at the small bag of pastry in his other hand. He worries about being spotted in town by a fellow knight, expecting a tirade of teasing to be flung his way when he gets back to the barracks but he knows that he is the least of his concerns, your happiness and well-being going first and foremost before his own. His stoic demeanor betrayed his inner turmoil, an icky guilt seeping into his heart at the mere thought of turning down this opportunity. Why he spared a thought or spent a moment to ponder over something silly, he’s not so sure when ever since, your heart and prosperity the only priority to the knight. With a faint sigh, he agrees.

“All right,” he says in a voice you can pick up. “The girls can weave a flower crown for me.” He sits on a slightly elevated surface right by the stall.

The little girl squeals, clasping her hands before she opens  a small satchel full of vibrant flowers. “Let me find my sisters, my lord and lady. I will be back!”

You nod, watching her run with a pep to her step as she called for her siblings. A chuckle makes its way out of his lips, running his fingers through white gold locks. You stand beside him, reaching for the pouch of snacks in his free hand.

“I’ll hold this one while they work their magic on you, my lord.”

He mumbles a quiet thank you, pulling you in closer by your waist. You remain standing beside him while he sits, an arm snaked around your waist as he rests his head on your hip.

“You’d better eat your snack now, my dove. They’re best warm,” he reminds you as he motions to the pouch in your hand.

“I can wait for a little longer,” you respond as you rest a hand on the base of his head and gently scratch his scalp. If he could purr, he would’ve done so by now. “And I must correct you: these are not just best consumed warm.”

He looks up for a moment, a light confusion on his features before he rests his head against your hip again. “Why do you say so?”

“Because meals like these, comforting and delicious meals, are also best enjoyed with someone dear.”

You can’t see it but you know the ghost of a smile lingers on Leon’s lips, threatening to tug on the corner of his lips a little higher. He makes a mental note to pencil down your words on his pocket notebook, like he always did whenever you said something that deeply resonated with him. The approaching laughter of little children drew nearer, three little girls carrying either satchels or a small bucket of flowers. Leon sits back up, clearing his throat.

“My lord, feel free to select which flowers you’d like on your head. Your fair lady may assist you if you are in need of it,” the eldest tells him.

Rice flower, jasmine, wax flower, amaranthus; what will he select?

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The minutes flew by fast as if they were mere seconds, a securely woven crown of pink, purple, and white flowers now laying atop of his golden tresses; the children had pushed longer strands of his hair back, securing them in place with the flower accessory so that Leon wouldn’t have to constantly flatten the puff atop his head. The eldest sister of the adorable trio takes out a mirror from her satchel and gives it to the blond so he can see the work they’ve done on his hair.

“It looks… magnificent,” he breathes. “Magical, even. Thank you very much, girls. This gesture is very much appreciated.”

You feel warmth creep in from the base of your neck and crawling to your cheeks, tingling from the grin you currently sport. The crown of various flora add a tenderness to his otherwise rugged appearance, adding an element reminiscent of cherubs depicted on oil paintings.

“You’re welcome, kind sir. We hope you enjoy our treat and the festival,” the middle child speaks up as she clears up the excess trimmings and leaves. “Feel free to come back to us if need be!”

“We will,” you promise as you relink arms with your lover again before turning your backs to walk on with the rest of the crowd. The sun is sinking beneath the great blue vastness as a rosy and orange hue stretched on the sky, it’s only a matter of minutes until total darkness befalls the kingdom and the time to set the lanterns free comes around.

You were enchanted with the comforting glow of candles begin to light the streets up, delicate flickers of golden dancing on tall sticks of wax so Leon’s tug through the bustling crowd shocked you a little bit. You squeezed his hand in response to the suddenness of his actions, wanting to tell him that you found his movements abrupt.

“I apologize, my dove.” He says as he momentarily turns around to face you. “It is almost time to wish on lanterns and let them float to the sky. I wish to get our lanterns a little earlier because there is something I need to do.”

Not “want” to do but need to do. His choice of words intrigues you.

After mumbling a few apologies and excuses to the crowd slowly growing more dense in festival goers, you two finally get to one of the stalls selling their lanterns. There were all sorts of lanterns and the kinds of candles they had– some were shaped like circles, some like cylinders; some of the paper used was plain and simple while others had doodles of various things like animals or simply little scribbles of circles. There were candles that had thicker wax and longer wicks, candles with scented wax, and candles with wicks infused with a substance to cause the fire to burn warmer and brighter. After selecting the lantern you both desired, you two paid with a hefty sum of copper coins.

“Leon, that’s not the path to the sea wall,” you point out as you realize that he’s no longer right behind you. “We’re supposed to walk past the stall we purchased from.”

“Yes, I know. I will take you elsewhere,” he explains. He looks a little nervous now, a finger fidgeting with the edge of the lantern paper as he shifts from one foot to the other. “I know a better place if- if that’s alright with you, love.”

You nod, following him. “It’s more than fine with me. Take me to where we need to be, mon nounours.”

Kindly taking your hand, you two begin to walk away from the growing number of people heading to the seawall. You’re not very familiar with where he’s taking you but you trust him enough to know what he’s doing, happily trailing behind him as he lights the path with the glow of your lanterns.

“Don’t let go of these, alright? It would take quite some time until we get another lantern back at the square.”

It takes less than 10 minutes until you two reach the edge of the river, right at the shore. By now, the sun had completely descended beneath the waves and let the stars take the great wide stage in the heavens above.

“Kindly hold this for me,” he instructs you as he hands you his lantern. You hold both of your lanterns, watching Leon as he bends over to the protrusion hidden in a tree near the waterside. Fingers curl around a dusty fabric and lift it off, setting it down beside a small brown boat complete with a rope, small anchor, and oars. It dawns on you what this is all about; he will take you on a boat ride and celebrate the festival down the river with him. Your heart leaps and drums against your ribs, pulse pounding against your neck.

“You may get inside now..”

You raise your garments above your ankles with one hand as the other holds lanterns, stepping inside the boat. Leon pushes the boat, undocking it from the shoreline and before the boat drifts out too far into the water, he joins you.

“Look up at the sky, love.” He instructs you with a glimmer in his eyes, the silver circle of the moon reflected in arctic cerulean irises.

You do so and you are greeted by a wondrous sight, the kind of view that you were certain could only be depicted in intricate oil paintings that hung in long winding halls of the palace you called your home. Drifting along the tranquil river, the lanterns begin to rise and light up the void sky. They gradually begin to drift further away from the ground, becoming stars in the sky now painted with the hopes and wishes of the people. Each golden orb flickering reflected on the gentle ripples of water, creating a mesmerizing waltz of shadows and illumination. The hushed splish splash of water harmonized with the wind blowing against your ears and the rustling of foliage, setting the perfect musical score in this dream-like moment. More lanterns continued to join the others in the sky, the wind directing them to another point in the sky like a captain to his ship; the peace that came with the festival bathed over the kingdom in a dream-like ambience.

“They’re all so beautiful,” you whisper. “I feel… light, at peace. Calm.”

What you did to his heart is sheer, inexplicable magic.

“Yes,” he agreed softly. “They really are beautiful.” His head was not even craned upwards when he uttered those words, his gaze locked on you.

After a few moments of silent observation, you poke him on his arm as you gesture to the lanterns still with you.

“Of course,” he says with a sheepish smile as he takes his.

“Don’t forget to make a wish,” you remind him before you close your eyes and silently thank the universe for everything good– prosperity in your kingdom, good health, and Leon.

He closes his eyes too and wishes upon every single lantern and star in the sky that the universe would lead you to where you will be happiest in, even if it’s not with him. With a breath of anticipation, both of your hands release the glowing lanterns and watch it gracefully ascend as it carries shared dreams into the expanse of darkness. The world seems to have paused as Leon locked eyes with you, all his wishes and greatest dreams reflected in the twinkle of your gaze.

“I love you, my greatest dream.” The blond says as he takes your hand and envelopes them with his own. “I confess once again, with all the fervor in my lowly heart, that I am and will always be yours to keep. I am yours, now and forever, but only if you will choose to have me.”

You smile and lift your conjoined hands, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of his knuckles. Training must have been harsh the other day, a flushed soreness on the peaks of his knuckle bones could be seen when his fingers are curled.

“My most cherished knight and precious lover, I yearn to spend every moment in your presence and adore you as you so richly deserve. My grief will truly be beyond measure if I cannot have you in my life; the tides are nothing without the moon to beckon them.”

His normally composed demeanor softens, revealing a vulnerable and sensitive man that you are lucky to see. The angular lines of his face gave way to a loopy smile as his cheeks were tinted faint pink, a manifestation of his shy affection.

“I am but a humble palace guard, my thane. You speak of high praises that I believe I am not yet worthy of.”

You withdraw one hand from his to cup his cheek, thumb skimming over his cheekbone. He nuzzles into your touch, craving for more of your pillowy touch.

“No need to be shy when you’re with me, Leon.”

“Ah– yes, of course. I just… to me, to be in your company is to feel a profound contentment. Nothing else matters except for you.”

You chuckle, glowing with the sincerity of his words. Who knew that a scary, stoic man like him could be capable of such poetic compositions.

The itch to feel his lips against yours is an itch you can scarcely endure so your hand leaves Leon’s cheek to bunch the fabric on his vest, tugging him closer to yourself. His breath catches on his throat, inky pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes like a void.

“Stop me if I am pushing things.”

You begin with a kiss to both his cheeks, then the tip of his nose then the corners of his lips. You look into his eyes to spot any hesitation or discomfort, not wanting to make him feel dirty.

“Do you want this the same way I do?” you ask with lidded yet cautious eyes.

“I want this unfathomably more than you do.”

His left hand settles on the base of your head, fingers combed through your hair as his right hand settles on your hip, not resting the entirety of its weight even though you won’t scold him if he did; he just wants to be careful. The final tug propels him forward to you, his lips landing on yours.

Just with your lips you could feel Leon tense up and freeze before relaxing into the gesture, tilting his head at a slight angle so his nose wouldn’t obstruct your way. His eyebrows scrunch in focus, feeling you and only you and the comforting embrace of your warm lips against him. If there could be a moment that he can revisit and experience for the first time, it would be the first kiss he shared with you by the garden wall as he stood on a wobbling wooden ladder. Every nerve was lit with an electric thrill that gave you courage to deepen the kiss, fueled by the need to worship this part of your lover. His hands traveled from your hip to the small of your back, wanting to usher your closer to him without parting lips for even a second. Air was overrated in that moment, breathing expertly cycled to prolong this magical moment. It grew more fervent, crazed and drunk on devotion; you gave him a light nip on his puffy bottom lip, eliciting a soft sigh that fanned warm breath on your parted lips. Finally you pull away, breathing heavily and catching your breath as you rest your warm forehead against his, post-kiss. You hear Leon chuckling as he cupped your face and you find yourself following suit.

“That was,” he breathily whispers. “Spellbinding.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Leon pulls back, readjusting his clothes and trying to smooth the hair on the back of his head that your grip might’ve ruffled. You fix yourself too, feeling the puffiness of your lips by the tips of your fingers. You look relatively well-kept together so you help Leon in trying to look less frazzled and flustered, readjusting the flower crown that had become tilted.

“We should probably head back,” your lover says, sounding almost disappointed.

“You are not even trying to hide your discontent, mon nounours. It’s charming.” You smirk.

“I think that it is a shame that this evening feels too hasty for such an enthralling event,” he mumbles. “The King and Queen Mother will worry for you and it is for the best that we make our way back to avoid a talking-to.”

His hands find the oars, steering the boat back to the direction of the shore. You can see the disappointment on his face but he does his best to veil it, to avoid dampening your feelings. You place a hand on one of the oars, interrupting his movements.

“I have informed my mother and father that they shall expect me to return late,” you tell him and he almost can’t believe it. “Earlier this afternoon, before you came to pick me up for our afternoon escapade, I advised my parents to expect my delayed arrival at around the wee hours of the morning. They protested but I responded that I am capable of making my own decisions and defending myself, as well as that I will be in the company of a trusted official in the royal court. You have proven yourself worthy of spending time around me countless times and I do not hesitate to extend my hours of–”

Leon hastily envelopes you with a tight embrace, rocking the boat and rippling the surface of the velvet surface of the river. He sways your bodies side to side and you can feel a wide beam right by your cheek, pleased that Leon doesn’t have to mope about wishing to spend the night with you.

NOTE - 3 nights of sobbing over a book and sleeping at 3-4 AM resulted to a cold, which pushed back my original posting schedule <3 I'm okay now, still got a cold, but less tired and crusty-feeling compared to a day ago. Thank you to the lovelies who filled my inbox with requests and don't worry, I'll get around to writing them soon before school starts again. I hope the anon who requested this loves it, I'm so sorry for the delay but I hope this fic managed to live up to your expectations 🌷🌷 I'm craving a matcha roll and some sushi rn but I'm unfortunately broke so watching mukbangs and sobbing will have to do for now. Thanks to everyone who waited for me to come back from the break, I appreciate it tons!!!!!!!! I've got more fic ideas in store so I'll get to those too after finishing up requests (and they're also prolly angsty, I miss writing angst). ALSO DAWG TRUMP GOT SHOT??? LIKE IM NOT AMERICAN AND NOT FROM THAT COUNTRY BUT HELLO??? ASSASSINATIONS R SO IN AGAIN???? And I saw Leon edits to Trump getting shot too like 😭😭 It's funny ngl... like ik my goat wouldn't miss (JKJK DONT GO AFTER ME PLS THIS IS A JOKE!!!). Anyways, that's it and thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I <333333333 UUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!

The space dividers are from @saradika , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[idyllcy]

there's no difference, i adore ya

word count: 6.5k || Medieval AU || Photo by Antibia

warnings: major character death, childbirth, non-explicit smut

summary: beginning too late, ending too soon

"Do you live waiting for something to happen?"

The question from your friend causes you to blink, confusion written all over your face as you pause in picking the fruit at the market.

"What?"

"I don't know. I heard that witch ask the question the other day, so I always wondered if we were supposed to do something instead of waiting for something to happen to us." She frowns. "That apple's too soft."

You grimace at the way it dents under your fingers, placing it back down. "Madam, you got any other fruit?"

"Unfortunately, the batch lately has just been bad." She shakes her head.

"And the prunes?"

She shakes her head. "The castle took all the good harvest to welcome the soldiers back from war."

"You must be relieved, madam. Your son and husband should return." You smile. "I heard the knights this year were exceptionally capable and there were no men dead amongst ours."

"Yes." She laughs, chest rumbling as your friend remembers something.

"Oh, goodness! That cute neighbor of mine is returning!" Your friend gasps.

"The one you've taken a liking to that your parents refused to wed you to?"

"Ugh, it's not my fault his family is gone! Instead, I am stuck with my good for nothing husband at home." She grumbles. "If only I was still available as you."

"How awful." You find a single good apple amongst the soft ones, asking the madam if you could take it. She nods, letting you go without a coin in her hand, somewhat happier now that her husband and son should be returning. You place the apple in your basket, wandering back home with your friend, festivities being put up as the two of you are pushed to the side, eyes wide and blinking in mild surprise as the knights march down the town. You glance at the men in armor, raising a brow at your friend when she squeals her neighbor's name, the man turns to stare into your eyes instead, your breath stuck in your throat as the sun goldens his blue eyes.

"He's looking this way!" She squeals.

"That is your neighbor?" You force yourself to look away from him, balancing yourself as she pretends to faint into your arms. "Was your neighbor not the village boy we met so long ago?"

"Yes, he had been promoted to our family knight at the time before the war, so he was by rule, our neighbor. It seems the king will promote him to something better instead now that he has come back from war victorious with the princess." She gushes. "Oh, good heavens. If only my parents had waited as I instructed them to! Look at how attractive of a man he has become!"

You turn to look back at him, surprised to see him stopped and still staring at you.

"Oh, goodness. It seems he is fond of you." Your friend mumbles, squealing as she smacks your arm. "Darling, talk to him!"

"He has just returned from war. It is not something I can fathom him doing."

As you say, the knight gets back to moving from the yell of another knight, his blue eyes burn into your mind as you wonder just what had you looking so lovely for him to be staring at you as that. You are not attractive. Your friend had been wedded immediately upon growing to marriable age, and your parents had tried time and time again to set you up, only for it to be dropped. You were not suitable. A better candidate had appeared. A woman more suited for their son had been suggested. It was never you. You had never been picked in the end. You do not find that it should be a problem. After all, you are still young, but there is a fear that gnaws at the back of your head that you will be unmarried by 20 and then too old for everyone else. No man covets an old woman.

Yet, you were a late bloomer anyway, so it is unsurprising that you had not been allowed to be wedded by the church until you had started bleeding.

Then, by that time, most of the men were already off to war, leaving you very few men, most of whom had already gotten married. Most other girls were wedded to the noblemen who did not need to fight in the time. You had not been a first choice to many of them because of the way you carried yourself. You could not be sold as an obedient wife out of a fear that your family would be condemned to death by your would-be husband's.

You are not wealthy in a land that only adores the wealthy.

"How was the parade, child?"

"It was alright." You smile at your mother. "I saw the knights return."

"Well, now that they are back, surely you can be wedded off." Your father sighs, tapping the table as your mother places down dinner.

"I got an apple from the madam at the market." You hand it to your mother, who rushes off and chatters about a pie, leaving you with your father.

"Is there a man you would like?"

"No." You pause, blue eyes flashing in your mind as you answer, causing you to stop.

"You do not look of such."

"Shame." You mumble. "I met eyes with a young knight today, but considering he is the leader of the group, surely he will be wedded to the princess as an excuse to hand him a title and some land."

"And if you are the second wife?"

"We are not the east, father." You thank your mother as she hands you a bowl, and your father starts eating.

"Did he stop to stare?"

"Yes."

"Oh, then surely he'll request of you from the king." Your mother laughs, placing her own plate down as she eats. "It is the same as your father had done. You would be surprised to know how certain your father had been that I was to be wed to him."

You entertain your mother's words, sure that such will not happen. Any man with their right mind would not choose a woman over a title, yet you are sure there are men as your father. Lovesick fools, your mother calls them. Your father had been so enamored with your mother, and despite the words of everyone around you insisting that your mother was plain and average, you thought of her to be lovely. Your mother was lovely. It was a sight to behold — your mother had been loved from the moment your father laid eyes on her, and you knew it well. It was rare, you think. Perhaps that is also why your father complains only verbally, never actively looking for a man for you. They had wedded late. Later than your current age. They had worried not, so neither should you.

"Good news will befall you soon." Your mother insists.

"I hope my husband at least received a title."

Your friend comes knocking for you to shop for food with her a week from then, arm hooked under yours, lips curled upwards as it only means she has some groundbreaking news to let you know of.

"Pray tell, what is this news this time?"

"Oh, you know me so well." She grins. "That knight from our house? Promoted."

"Promoted? To what? Has he been wedded to the princess?"

"No, the princess was married off to a neighboring nation. You know, the king has a young son now, after all." She waves her hand. "The title of viscount was bestowed upon him by the king."

"And?"

"And?? That means he is of marriable age, unwed, and attractive! You should have your parents suggest of you to him!"

"He's a noble now. There is no chance that he will go searching for someone not of noble background." You hum. "Why wed in a pool of the poor when the rich are options."

"You know, he is a new noble after all. There is little chance that he will wed with someone of the nobles."

"Surely that face of his is good for something." You purchase pears this time around, humming as you hand the woman a dozen eggs for the basket of pears.

"Look!"

"At—" You tense up when you notice your friend is no longer behind you and it is a man, and you turn slowly, taking a step forwards as you do, blinking at the knight that has so kindly decided to appear out of nowhere. "Sir."

"Mistress." He places his hand on his chest, bowing gently as you muster a smile.

"Pray tell, knight, if there is something that I could be help of?"

"Your parents, mistress."

"I am not of noble descent. There is no need to refer to me of such name."

"I assure you, there will be soon." He nods. "Unless you have complaints?"

"There are none, I assure you. I shall bring you to my mother and father."

Your friend had run off long ago, and when you finally glance up to look at her, she is far down the road on her way home, waving at you dramatically as you sigh.

"You are tired?"

"No, knight. My friend is just full of life, you see." You nod at him to follow you, stepping down a set of stairs as you arrive at your home, your voice meeting an empty home as you have him follow you to the yard.

"I am back with the pears... and a knight."

Your father looks up, raising a brow at the knight as he laughs.

"Sir Leon, was it? Matthew of York was gabbing of the new squadron leader. It must have been you, considering those blue eyes of yours."

"Honored, sir." The knight, Leon, follows your father as you take over his work with the chickens, chasing one down and grabbing it by the wing, flipping it upside down as your mother claps.

"That one will do for dinner." She hums. "Let's feather the bird."

"Yes, ma."

You are to be wedded to Leon. It was hard to turn down a man who was higher standing than both of your parents, and despite your father being his superior previously, there was no argument or complaint raised from you, so it was fine to proceed with the arrangement. You have no complaints if you are marrying... noble, or whatnot. It is not of your concern. You are just grateful that you are no longer unwed. At least the wives with no better to do will stop sneering at you.

Though, they would start sneering of how you seduced the man with your figure. Truly, there is nothing you can do that would satisfy the mouthes of the bored.

"If there is any one who does not will for the couple to be wedded, speak now or forever hold your peace."

You blink at the way your to-be husband holds your hands, his calloused ones from the sword against your softer ones. Your hands are no better, still rough from the livestock, slightly bruised from the work that you had been raised to do. You had only stopped once your father realized that you'd be wedded better if your hands had been well kept. Rough hands on a woman meant that she was of lower standing in class. Your father didn't care, but it also mattered that you would marry well. To be wedded to a bad man was enough to age your father too many years. The end of his life was approaching, after all. It's surprising that your mother had even survived childbirth of you. Your father almost didn't— you're surprised they did not have more to tend to the livestock. Something about your mother suffering too much while having you to have another. You suppose if love is a concept, then it would be your mother and father.

"I pray he shall take care of you the same way your father does me." Your mother tells you, wedding clothes draped over you as you are wed at the chapel, exchange and officiation of the ceremony done by the priest, your bowed head and an exchange of rings that are surprising quality from a knight. The gold band slid to your finger and to his, the gold glistening against your skin as you stare up at Leon. Your husband, now. The man whom you barely knew would be the man you are to spend the rest of your life together with. However long that life of yours would be.

"And the consummation." The priest nods.

"We shall deal with such in our abode. Come on."

You follow Leon as he brings you, fingers entwined with yours as he leads you through the paths, lips curled upwards once you arrive at his residence, stopping to stare at all the maids and aides that you're sure Leon isn't any more familiar with than you. How does one manage wealth after living their whole life as a commoner? You are sure there is a servant for that, but you are also certain that you will need to watch everything to make sure the wealth is built and not squandered. Does your husband know of such? There is too much to think of.

"Overwhelmed?" He smiles at you, and you sigh.

"I will have to grow familiar with it." You follow him as he leads you to the bedroom, standing to the side as you blink at him and then the bed, preparing to strip.

"If you do not—"

"It is my duty." You continue, cutting him off. "I bed of you to be quick. I have heard it can be painful."

"If you are not prepared." He steps towards you, letting you sit down on the bed, kneeling as you drop the inner layer.

"And how are you to have child with me if you are on the ground?"

"I will not hurt you. I could not dream of it." He has you sit, undressing himself as well, spitting on his fingers.

"Do the men of the battlefield know of this?"

"They are the ones who taught me, despite my status as commander." He pries your legs open, staring up at you, waiting for a nod.

"And the brothels?"

"You learn much just by observing." He pauses. "It is a sin, is it not?"

"There are so many worse sins out there. As long as it does not hurt."

"I would not wish of it."

Marriage consummation is supposedly painful, but Leon puts the skills of the battlefield to good use, visits to the brothel with his soldiers long engrained in his soul, your body thoroughly spent as though you had been tending to the livestock, mark of your nails raked down your husband's back with a red previously unknown to you, your exhaustion much more apparent when the maids wake you the next day — your husband missing, and you are tended to and bathed, the maids whispering amongst themselves of the visible bruises left on your neck. Abuse or adoration, they wonder. Is their master as cruel as to bring back a woman just to abuse her? You know the answer, yet the embarrassment stops you from speaking up.

You meet your husband in his garden, the man with his sword out, swinging and training with the guards of his new residence, years of heavy armory apparent in his stature, body glistening under the sun, breathless blue eyes bright under the morning rays. You do not speak or move, waving the maids off as they scatter, and you take a seat on the side, blinking slowly as you take in the sight of your husband. Do you love him? Will you love him? What is love, truly? Does father have truly so much faith in you as to fall in love with a man you had only met once? Is it truly better to marry a man who adores you than to marry a man whom you adore?

"Wife." He brightens at the sight of you, forcing the knight's sword away with his own, rushing over to you as though he were some overgrown hound, lowering himself onto one knee as he checks your skin, asking you of your morning — are you alright? are you growing accustomed to the life in his residence? do you require of anything? how about a new gown? a visit to your companion's? how about a walk? He is an overgrown docga, you find. You wonder if it was normal to equate your husband to an animal, but as you find yourself running your hand through his dirty hair without much a second thought and ruffling his hair, you wonder if you had accidentally wounded your husband's pride.

Instead, you are met with a laugh, his cheeks red as he leans his head further into your touch.

"Should we fetch a hound, dear wife?"

"My apologies, Sir Leon." You cough, pulling your hands away from his hair. "It was—"

"Leon is fine, dear wife." He hums. "I am your husband now. There is no need to be formal."

"Do excuse me, for we barely know each other."

"I am most certain you are the one."

You are not sure how he is certain, but the way he beholds you with such fondness in his eyes leaves no argument for your futile thoughts.

You are certain that there would be nowhere else where a man could behold you in such light.

"Surely?"

"You are sent by the Lord himself." He rests his forehead on your hands, humming. "There is no larger grace than that of the moment I first met eyes with you."

You give him a laugh that can only mean you are only half-convinced. Yet, you do not make mention that you do not believe him. There is only so much that you can experience before you pass. Your husband will be sent to war in time again as his role of knight, and you will have children and possibly pass before you get to see him older with age. You wonder if you will bear him a son at the very least. An heir to carry on the name that has so mournfully ended with your birth because of your father's choice to protect your mother.

"Rest here. I shall return in a little time." Leon offers you a smile. "And I shall bring you around the garden when I do."

He offers you a kiss to the bone by your eye, calloused fingers against soft skin as he smiles.

You leave him with silence, eyes back to watching the way he continues with training his own guards. He prefers to do many things on his own, hands laboring out in the fields of the garden, pruning the trees and asking for your opinion on what flowers sounded pretty. He does not expect you to know which ones will be pretty since he does not either, but he includes you, letting you sit on the stone bench as he discusses with the hired gardener, listening intently as he's told which flower combinations work best.

"And you, wife?"

"Roses are fine, Leon."

Leon nods, continuing his conversation, and you wonder if this is a man hurt by war and worn down by years of fighting. It is a valiant thing — to be kind even after war. It is an effort to choose to be one way when it is much easier to be another. You fear that you are too plain to stand next to him. When the sun shines, does everyone not flock to bask in the glow of gold? You bask in it on your own, your husband far too attached to you to even consider basking someone else in the shine of his light. It is reserved for you and you alone, and you find that there are women who dream of such warmth.

"Shall we share a chamber, wife?"

"It is not customary not to, no?" You raise a brow. "There is no reason to, Leon."

"Is it so wrong to wish to be by my wife?"

"You spoil me rotten."

"If not me, then who?"

You move into Leon's room, your closet moving alongside you, maids whispering amongst themselves of how strange it is that the master would mention residing with the mistress if not to have a child. Yet, when it is night and Leon pulls you to the balcony with a duvet wrapped around you as he kneels by your feet and shows you the stars, you wonder if there is some way you can love him back. Will time make the heart grow fonder? Will you learn to love Leon the way he deserves to be adored by the time that you both have children? You do not want such a curse to befall your children.

"And that one is Vega."

"The merchant the other day told tales of her and Altair."

"So in love that they neglected their duties, was it?" You stare up. "How I wish that were me."

"Am I not loveable, wife?"

"No, you deserve far more affection than that I can offer to you." You hum, pulling him up to have a seat by you.

"We have all the time for such."

"Once an heir is born, then we will have less." You hum. "There is always a chance I will pass during childbirth, after all."

"That will not happen." He hums. "I assure you. I shall not bed you until you are comfortable with me as I am you."

"It will take a while, then. Neither of us are young anymore, husband."

"It is alright. If we pass without an heir, then I shall return everything to the princess in my will." He smiles. "There is no rush, beloved."

"I fear that while you do not, I will."

You fall into a mundane life with Leon, taking a stroll in the garden in the morning to check on the roses and their growing progress, eating with him in the hall, and then the two of you separate for you to continue your instrument lessons while he trains the knights. You meet again at night before bed, making use of your time by engaging in conversation, making mention of all that you had done in the day. Is there truly anything new? You do not know. Just what does your husband see in you to spoil you to extent?

"I shall be heading to town." You pull for your old clothes when you were a commoner, refusing the maids' aide to at least make you presentable, and you palm the dry dirt, shaking it into your hair. You look like how you did a long time ago. You nearly do not recognize yourself. You have grown used to the artistry of your day to day life and forgotten your roots.

You meet up with your friend, smiling as she is in her commoner clothes as well.

"So? How's marriage?"

"It is alright." You hum. "Not much has occurred."

"Truly?"

"Truly." You glance at the apples on display. "He refuses to bed me until I can love him."

"How could you not? He has such a charming visage."

"Perhaps something holds me back." You glance at the witch on the street. "Oh, yes, whatever happened to Adaline?"

"Oh, it seems she had been wedded off to the neighboring estate." She taps her chin. "The duchy of Wellesley, if I remember correctly."

You wonder how she is doing. No, you should not wonder over such. The two of you are long gone. It had been gone the second she decided she would be the one rather than you. The king has promised your husband a life of retirement now that Leon is wedded to you. Until you are with an heir, he is not allowed to leave the walls of the kingdom. Something about how Leon needed children or else one of the greatest knights in history would go down as a knight without lineage. You're sure your children would love to hear of their father's achievements in war.

"Do you want children?" You glance at Leon step by you, wine handed to you as you stare down at the garden.

"Why would I not?"

"You do not bed me, insisting that I must love you before have children. We have our lives for the love you crave for me to feel." You press the drink to your lips, staring out. "I will age, and soon, I will not be able to bear children for you."

"That is fine." Leon insists, leaning on the railing. "Children or not, you are more valuable."

"What value do you find in me? Truly, I am none more than your wife. I do not beg, whine, nor give affection to you. What do you see in me to cause you to believe that I am deserving of all of this love?"

"Is it so wrong to love someone?"

You finish the last of your wine, blinking slowly. "No, just not me."

Leon is infatuated with you. Do you know why? You could not care less. All you are to do is bear a child for your husband and move on with life. If you pass, then you pass. If you stay, then you raise the child with your husband — it is that simple. That is what you are to do. The thought of it makes you seem plain and unwanted, eyes blinking slowly as you stare at the witch across from you in the square, raising a brow when your friend yells out an all-too-familiar name.

"Adaline!"

That gets your attention.

"Adaline." You breathe the name as though it's second nature, fingers twitching by your side, heart hammering in your chest.

Yet, she disappears back into the crowd, and all chasing is futile, your legs stuck in place as the clouds of rain brew over your head, looming over both your heart and soul as you rush back to the estate, clothes soaked through and muddied with the dirt from rushing.

"Wife." Leon calls for the servants immediately, drying you up by the fire as he leans against the wall behind you, eyes stuck on your figure as you speak not. "Shall we rest?'

"You not need to be so considerate of me, husband." You stare at the fire, warm colors burning in your eyes as you wave the servant off. "I know you are curious."

"I am fine with you leaving the estate. I only wish that you would be slightly more honest with me when you do."

"I miss an old friend despite her betrayal. It is that simple." You turn around to stare at him. "It is complicated, my heart. Please take a seat."

"Will you tell me?"

"If I collect myself first."

The fire crackles in your eyes, ashes burning and shattering as you stare, words tumbling out of your heart, eyes weary with an age that should not be possible to you. You look both wounded and aged. Leon has only ever seen those eyes on the men who live til sixty, white visible in both their hair and eyes, old age consuming them until they are a shell of their previous self. You should not be capable of such emotion. Leon wonders if that is what stops you from loving him how you wish you could.

"It seemed you shared quite the bond."

"Dare I say it, I believe I had loved her." You sigh. "How heretical of me."

"The bond you establish with the one you lose can not be broken, beloved." Leon hums. "Do visit her, will you? I assure you, she misses you."

"How can you be so sure?"

"The heart knows what it does."

You return to the market, stuck staring at the new woman in red, lips and cheeks rouge with blood, blinking when you remember who she is now.

"Witch." You smile.

"Ah, dearest. What brings you to me? Your friend visited last, not you." She tilts her head. "Concerning your husband?"

"You asked my friend once."

"Do you live waiting for something to happen." She hums. "And?"

"She asked me, and surely, after that, I was wedded despite not doing anything." You hum. "Let me treat you at the pub, I insist."

"And what do you have to treat me for?"

You lower your voice, humming slowly. "Is there a reason to treat an old friend to a drink?"

"I am afraid—"

"Adaline." You call her by name, watching as she tenses under your grip. "I beg of you, speak to me."

"What is there to speak of?"

"How is life? Why have you decided to return? Is it true that your husband has fallen ill?"

"I do not care for that man. I took the scar for you. It is that simple."

"So the rumors were true." You reach out for her forearm, squeezing as she grimaces. "He had sold you."

"It was not something I could not handle."

"There was no need. Mother could have rejected on our behalf." You whisper. "He would not have won against father's blade."

"I had to. I could not let the others take the hit in our village. Everyone raised me, so it was only fair that I would pay them back with the same love."

Your expression falls, eyes hurt as she lowers her voice under the moon.

"I sent your husband your way." Adaline swallows. "He had visited the brothel, ending up in my hand, and for that moment in time, all I could imagine was how... sweet and loving he would have been if he met you. I told him of a girl with breathtaking eyes and brilliant features, telling him all that you had always adored. I had prayed earnestly that he would find you and you would be the one. I wished that you would not have to suffer the same fate as I."

"Why did you take the marriage in my stead?"

"I could survive being sold off, you could not." She whispers. "Your hands only know the warmth of your loved ones and the livestock in your home. My hands have become rough because of the blade. Beloved, it was for you. It was always for you."

"Then return to me. Return to me if I am your beloved."

"Your husband could not allow such a thing."

"You do not know that." You mumble. "I beg of you. I shall kneel if needed. Return to me, my moon."

Adaline shakes her head, offering you a gentle squeeze of your hand instead, taking two steps back before retreating into the shadows where you can no longer find her. You stay standing, eyes trailed on where she was last in the shadow until Leon finds you in the dust, hands sliding over your shoulders as you stand there and let out silent tears.

"Beloved."

Leon does not answer, so you try again.

"Husband, beloved."

"Yes?"

"Let us return home."

"Of course."

You heal after that, affection easier at your fingertips when you reach for Leon, lips curled upwards when you rub your eyes at waking.

"How are you, wife?"

"I am alright, beloved." You smile at him, lips pulled up at the edges, sun glowing against your husband as he covers your eyes. "my apologies you had to tangle yourself with my mess."

"That is quite alright." He whispers, mug handed to you as you blink up at him. "Do you feel better?"

"Yes." You whisper. "I promise."

"Good." He mumbles. "Shall we dine?"

"Yes."

The mess of strings doesn't untangle immediately. Leon notices that you are more gentle, fingers kind against his while the two of you walk in the garden, hand tucked around his arm as you let him tell you how the flowers have been. You tell him you can deal with the garden now that you have fully settled into the role of his wife, and he tells you he is alright with it. There is not much to do, and even when you watch jousting with Leon and enjoy dinner with the king every now and then, life is simple.

You're not too sure if you're content with living like that.

"Shall we try for child?"

Leon takes your offer this time. You insist that you must bear him a son, and you seem to be anxious of time. His hands are calloused against yours, bruises of purple on your skin, the sound of your cries echoing down the hall of the residence, quiet prayers that you would be with child spreading through the hall through rumors, and the day that the alcohol finally reacts, you exhale. Leon takes extra care of you during the time, listening to the priests as they pray for you to be with son, but Leon does not care. He asks for prayers for your safety instead. There is always a sense of forbearing because you shake your head when he requests for your health.

"Beloved, you love me."

"I do." You hum.

"Then why do you not let me love you back?"

You do not answer, staring out at the flowers instead.

"If it is a daughter, I do earnestly hope that I get to braid flowers into her hair." You mumble. "And if it is a son, then I have served my purpose."

"I do hope that she is a daughter. That way, you will still think you are use to me."

"And then?"

"And then, I would still lay bare with you, skin soft against mine."

Your remaining days are spent walking with your husband, pregnancy heavy on your body as your back is sore, eyes distant as Leon seems to ponder over what is on your mind. His hands are gentle with your feet, callouses rough against your fingers as you continue staring at the sunset.

"We should prepare for a grave."

"For whom?"

"I do not know. Where do you think it would be nice to be buried?"

"And why not the garden?"

"At the center of the maze?"

Leon gets the sense that you have made peace with the idea of death one day. You seem to be prepared to pass at all times, and you refuse to share whether or not it is pregnancy-related. Instead, you tell him of how you would like to prepare your grave, telling him of flowers that he should plant by them, and he tells you not to worry. You will survive, he tells you. He tells you that you will live, and in the case that a decision must be made, it must be you saved over the child.

You offer him a sad smile in response.

When the child arrives, you are tended to, Leon praying quietly outside of your room, managing the household's affairs from the outside of your door at all times, ignoring the desk that he has, settling for a chair outside of the room you are in. The sound of your agony rattles the walls of the estate, and Leon furrows his brows, pacing back and forth, growing restless when the cries of a child is heard, the nurses opening the door as you offer Leon a sad smile.

"You must use the wet nurse." You whisper.

"Of course I will." He mumbles, forehead pressed to yours as he rests his hand on the child's blanket. "It will be for you."

"No." You whisper. "It will be for the child."

Leon furrows his brows, blinking at you as you offer him a sad smile.

"It is fortunate that it is a son."

"No." He mumbles. "No, no. Beloved, do not say that."

"I have lost too much blood." You whisper. "It is a son. It is your son."

"I do not want him if it means the loss of you." He mumbles. "Beloved, no. no. No."

"It is unfortunate." Your voice grows weak, the nurses trying their best to clean you up. "I would have enjoyed being your wife for just a little longer."

Leon yells as the nurses dive in to try and help you, and Leon watches in horror in the corner of the room as you close your eyes, body relaxing, There is a slight smile on your face, and Leon watches in horror as you look so peaceful, the child crying for your warmth as death steals it from him, and Leon's warmth replacing your stolen one as he holds the child to him. The crying does not stop, but neither does the horror on Leon's face as the nun shakes her head, offering a look of pity to Leon as he gasps for air.

The boy cries in his arms, a child's cries ringing in his ears as the news of your death rings as well, and the wet nurse taking the child as Leon steadies himself with the chair, blinking slowly as he processes the news. The world has ended. The battle has left him with nothing, and he is back in the war. It is a flood of memories, flushing down his system as he stands there, numb with the thought of you having passes, his steps heavy as he walks to you, taking your hand in his, ring on your finger as he blinks slowly. The news must spread.

He must tell your parents that he has killed their beloved daughter for the sake of his son.

He must tell your friend that you have passed to bear him a son.

He must tell Adaline that you have passed.

He must live with the guilt that he has caused you to pass because he had not been a good husband — that the heavens must have struck you down because he had been unfaithful, that he had not loved you as he should have the way God ordained. Instead, he now bears the responsibility of a son, small hands delicate against his, your cold ones returned to the ground in the garden.

You had known. Unconsciously, you had known.

Leon had picked it up too. You had been preparing to let him down slowly — gently, dare he say it.

But you have passed, and he is left where you have left him, hands calloused compared to yours, fingers rougher than yours would have been. He is not fit to raise a child without you. Instead, the bundle of what should have been joy is just a bundle in his arms, and when he finds your features on his son, he is full of the same bitterness he is sure you felt when you had been left behind. You would not like that.

He tries to imagine what you would do.

Your hands would be gentle while tending to the baby.

You would watch as Leon teaches the child to wield the sword.

You would scold the boy for poor courtesy — you would reprimand him for being unkind to others.

You would watch as he falls in love and weds, bands on his fingers, hair like yours fluttering in the wind of the chapel as he gives his heart to her.

And, he's sure you would have been proud when Leon is buried next to you in your garden of love.

Perhaps, then, he shall find you once more.

[twstfanblog]

Talks about another AU

Monster AU

I actually have a bit of this posted on my A03 account.

ROLE CALL

Riddle- Human. Doctor who practices new medicine backed by Science, about to be accessed of witchcraft.

Trey- Witch. Lives in the woods and fattens up rude travelers to sacrifice them to the eel monsters that have taken up home in a nearby swamp.

Cater- Human. Doll maker who unknowingly took in a haunted doll that he's trying to customize.

Deuce- Bird monster. Has recently left home and was shown kindness by an old lady on a farm last winter.

Ace- Fox monster. Wanders but has recently started to hang around a farm for the free apples.

Leona- Sphinx type monster. Recently injured and healing in a cave by an old village.

Ruggie- Human. Found and bandaged Leona in the cave. Feeds Leona what scraps he can and gets a golden bead to sale before every winter when Leona hibernates.

Jack- Werewolf. Protects a patch of woods from people who hold ill intent. An old woman on a farm gives him cuts of meat for the winter if he shows up on her porch.

Azul- Sea witch. Recently moved to a river to establish new territory.

Floyd/Jade- Eel monsters. Azul's friends. They ended up in the swamp instead of Azul's river by accident and haven't found a reason to leave yet (Trey keeps them fed, and Jade thinks he's cute)

Kalim- Naga. Honestly just vibing but he keeps sneaking off to party with the fae even through he might just die one day from it.

Jamil- Naga. Main one hunting for him and Kalim. Keeps telling him to stop going to the fairy soirees to have wine with Lilia.

Vil- Shape shifter. Has a preference for eating those of noble blood.

Rook- Human. Monster hunter who is unapologetically down bad for the shape shifter.

Epel- Human. Recently moved back to the farm his grandmother owns after being kicked out of his noble stepfather's home.

Idia- Ghost type monster. Wandering the lands looking for the soul of his brother.

Ortho- Ghost type monster. Currently possessing a doll.

Malleus- Fae king. Hopeless romanctic who wonders if he's capable of loving without killing someone.

Lilia- Fae. Very social with others. Brought home a baby one day and said it was from the moon.

Silver- Human/Fae. Said moon baby. Truly the one vibing in all of this.

Sebek- Fae/Human. Taking his new responsibilities to ensure the fae soirees have enough wine very seriously. He was recently hit by a human boy on a farm with a shovel. (He was just trying to get his damn order of apple wine...😓)

Yuu- Human??? Noble child who recenly found out her other parent is King of the Monsters and she has a fucking title to collect.

[neverniko101]

WOOOOOOOO

YEAH

HORROR DREAMTALE TIME

I actually have solid lore now. like. i have a reason for nightmare’s antlers other than “it looks cool”. I have an idea on how it could actually end. This is incredible

Only Ink is open for asks rn! I’ll hold a vote on who to open asks for next in a few days. In the meantime, ask away!

Also, there’s a (kind of) short summary of the story so far below the cut. A few minor things have been changed, so I recommend giving it a read even if you were here for the prologue!

- - - - - - - - - -

Masterpost

Next

- - - - - - - - - -

Summary:

Dream and Nightmare started off as any normal Dreamtale AU— Dream adored by the villagers and working every day to the brink of exhaustion and Nightmare bullied, hated, and feared.

After one particularly harrowing day and one too many times of finding his brother beaten and bruised by the villagers, Dream decided he’d had enough. Staring up at the tree they called their mother, he shouted, begged, pleaded; why didn’t she do anything? Why did Nym let them suffer while she simply stood there, baring immaculate gold and violet fruits? The young skeleton tore down one of the Positivity apples in frustration. Were they doing something wrong? Were they not good enough?

…

He could make himself better.

-

“Dream?” Nightmare barely had time to call out to his brother before the golden apple reached his mouth. He received no response but his brother’s shriek as the fiery wings burst from his back. Despite the mountains of pain the guardian had to have been in, his gaze fixed greedily on the clusters of apples overhead.

Nightmare’s gaze hardened. He couldn’t let Dream do this.

-

The brothers both had one apple each, fighting until they collapsed. When they woke, they agreed that neither of them would have another apple again. They would never fight like that. They would stick together.

The tree, however, was never the same. A blight took hold of the land.

-

Once the two turned fourteen, a bunch of weird creatures called anons randomly showed up and aggressively befriended them using soup, macarons, and other such implements. While the twins’ magic had grown unstable from the influx of power gained from the apples, they remained relatively sane and had a close bond, although both were worried about the declining health of the tree.

-

Long story short, Ink showed up, and thought it would be a great idea to bring them to Ccino’s cafe, where non-horror dream was waiting for him. Upon meeting non-horror Dream, Firefly (horror Dream) had the idea to drain some of his magic to fix the tree he could finally fix his mistake. He and Frostbite (horror NM) attacked the guardian, draining a large portion of his magic. With this magic, Firefly was able to create portals, traveling around the multiverse and eventually stealing souls. One day, the two disappeared back into their AU, where they fed the magic and souls to the tree. After that? You’ll have to find out… :3

-

Ink by comyet

Dreamtale by Joku

[starlightrunesgang]

**Yumettytale:

In this Au, there are three vital trees that maintain the balance of the universe: **Life**, **Magic** and **Feelings** ... the three trees are protected by extremely powerful guardians: (Zhouzalcoytl, Lannyri and Nimlai respectively).

Each tree is located in a hidden world and no one must know where they are in order to keep them safe, although some humans have found them and either have good intentions or have bad intentions.

Because of this, this Au takes place in a world completely alien to any place in the original Subtertale, since it is the hidden world where the Tree of Feelings resides.

**Story:

**Beginning of the Story:

It all begins when **Nimlai**, the guardian of the Tree of Feelings, senses an imminent threat coming from the other two trees.

To protect her home and her tree, she decides to move her world to the Subtertale multiverse. However, a human named Misheel who is searching for the Golden Apples attacks Nimlai, leaving her severely injured and ending her life.

Dream and Nightmare were created after their later mother Nimlai was killed by Misheel.

It is possible that this human was one of Zhouzalcoytl's creations, as at the time of the attack there was no life near the Tree of Feelings and it may have been deliberate.

Dream and Nightmare were originally small balls of fire: Dream was a gold and white ball and Nightmare was a purple and white ball.

Nimlai was going to give them human bodies to protect their fragile forms, but the energy radiating from them caused them to explode as they had very few escape points.

They were then given skeleton bodies (based on Sokoswaptertale Sans), allowing that energy to flow through without problems; this is why they are not considered Sanses as they only inhabit one body.

Dream and Nightmare were not true guardians, just replacements.

They had to learn to unleash their true powers on their own, which would give them human bodies (though they are not real humans).

These are different from the ones Nimlai gave them when they were first created, as those were simply vessels to contain them, which is why they exploded.

Dream and Nightmare are biological siblings and twins.

**The Twins and the Village:

As they grow up, Dream tries to connect with the villagers, while Nightmare feels increasingly isolated.

The people of the village, realizing Dream's kindness, begin to take advantage of her, demanding more than she can give.

This creates a cycle of stress that leads her to cry alone, distancing herself from her brother. Nightmare, meanwhile, is the target of mockery and violence, leading him to deep sadness.

The arrival of **Neijie**, a cat-monster, becomes a ray of hope for Dream. Through her, Dream finds genuine friendship for the first time, leading her to neglect her connection with Nightmare.

However, the pressure from the villagers and her brother's suffering continue to intensify.

**The Apple Incident:

The Apple Incident occurred when Dream and Nightmare were six years old, physically, meaning Nightmare went through at least five years of bullying.

On the day of the Apple Incident, Dream needs a golden apple to help a sick villager.

Nightmare, in a desperate attempt to prove her worth, touches a black apple, causing her to be corrupted.

The negativity spreads, affecting the village and its inhabitants, who, losing control, direct their hatred towards Nightmare.

Realizing what has happened, Dream runs to protect her brother, but is attacked and knocked unconscious.

Nightmare, manipulated by the voice of the human who killed Nimlai, consumes the apples, becoming an entity of pure negativity.

In an attempt to save him, Dream eats a golden apple, granting her the ability to sense the emotions of others and transforming her essence.

**The Transformation:

With her newfound emotional connection, Dream becomes a target of Nightmare's wrath, who, blinded by hatred, attacks her.

The force of the impact turns her to stone, and Neijie, seeing what has happened, teams up with Lannyri, the guardian of the Tree of Magic, to search for a way to free Dream from her prison.

**Final Chapter:

After 496 years, Dream is freed and trained by Lannyri, who teaches her to control her powers.

Aware of her brother's corruption, Dream must confront Nightmare and find a way to restore balance to her world and get her brother back.

But to do so, she will have to challenge not only Nightmare, but also the very feelings that once consumed her.

_**Yumettytale Dream Sans and Nightmare Sans Appearance, Clothing and Personality_:

_**Yumettytale Dream Sans Appearance, Clothing, and Personality_:

-Appearance:

-Original Form:

- **Form:** Energy sphere.

- **Color** Gold with white eyes and a smiling mouth.

- **Characteristics:** Similar to her brother, who is purple.

-Normal Form:

- **Skin Color:** Flesh-colored with a gold and white glow.

- **Eyes:** Bright yellow.

- **Hair:** Straight, long, and golden, reaching just past her shoulders.

She wears a golden tiara that blends elegantly with her hair.

And she can transform into a skeleton.

-Clothing:

- **Jacket:** Light blue with gold details on the sleeves and collar.

- **Pants:** Blue with a gold belt adorned with blue pearls and the letters "DS".

- **Shirt:** White with gold details on the edge.

- **Gloves:** Yellow, elbow-length.

- **Boots:** Blue with gold details, mid-calf length.

- **Cape:** Gold, long and flowing, reaching the ground. It has a blue lining that can be seen when she moves.

-Accessories:

Golden star-shaped earrings.

-Personality:

Same as Dream Sans.

_**Yumettytale Nightmare Sans Appearance, Clothing and Personality_:

-Appearance:

-Original Form:

- **Form:** Energy sphere.

- **Color** Purple with white eyes and a slightly angry mouth.

- **Characteristics:** Similar to his sister, who is golden.

-Normal Form:

- **Skin color:** Flesh color with a purple and white glow.

- **Eyes:** Bright dark blue.

- **Hair:** Straight, short and purple.

He wears a black tiara in his hair.

And he can transform into a skeleton.

-Clothes:

- **Jacket:** Purple with slightly golden details on the sleeves and collar.

- **Pants:** Dark blue with a golden belt adorned with blue pearls and the letters "NM".

- **Shirt:** White with dark details on the edge.

- **Gloves:** Dark blue and short.

- **Boots:** Dark purple with gold details, mid-calf.

- **Cape:** Black, long and flowing, reaching the ground. It has a dark blue lining that can be seen when he moves.

-Corrupted Form:

He wears Subtertale Sans's outfit... only a black liquid drips from it (the black liquid is darkness), he usually has 4 tentacles in defense and offense mode but it can vary, and he also wears his tiara from time to time.

-Personality:

Same as Nightmare Sans.

[voidandabyssal]

Good lord i do not know what is wrong with me but I CANNOT stop thinking about dreamtale angst.

The absolute agony and pain Passive must have gone through as he first bit into that apple. The way his bones must have snapped. His mouth gurgling as black tar poured out from every orifice.

Could he see? Could he hear? Did he watch as Dreams eye sockets welled with tears. Could he feel his brother hand wrapping around his arm as his body tore apart.

Was he alone? Trapped in his twisting, ruined mind as he suffocated on the slick ooze that coated him.

The heart wrenching pain Dream must have felt as he could only watch as his brother died and another creature took his place. One that hated him so.

After hundreds of years in stone Dream awakens to a whole new world. Everyone he once knew is gone. And for the first time in the twins life, he is entirely alone.

Even his mother, the once ancient and colossal tree now a rotted stump.

…

Dream finally finds Passive and he is so excited. He can barely hold himself back. Dream had spent those hundreds of years mulling over his life, his brothers, the village.

Dream reaches out to hug Passive, only to pull back as a dozen tentacles of black oozing negativity break the surface of his bones.

His brother, his twin, his first and only companions face twisted in disgust as Dream falls to the ground, his golden bow of positivity clattering to the ground.

Stars, it breaks Dream to see that look. That look Passive, no Nightmare, as he had so loudly declared, once reserved to the innocent (deserving) dead villagers now directed at him.

Nightmare doesn’t pull his punches. Centuries of isolation, of a dead child’s body being moved around by some twisted parasite, to only mull over the few connections he previously had.

The resentment is immense. Nightmare hates Dream. No, hate is too simple of a word. Nightmare despises Dream. No, no. Nightmare abhors Dream. Nothing else can explain the painful twist in his soul, the stabbing memories.

Dream was the golden one, chosen by their mother, their village. Their destiny’s shaped before conception. Dream the chosen one, the beloved hero of the people.

Nightmare was the villain, the despised Monster that cursed people with pain.

Once a bookworm child, content to take the abuse so long as he got to see his brothers smile.

Now delights in shattering his twins bones, breaking Dreams mind as he seethes with negativity.

…

Dream escapes, broken and lost, into another au as he sobs for the first time in a very long time. He cries out for his mother, collapsing under a similar tree as gold ichor drip drops from his cracked body.

…

[ancha-aus]

i am back with even more thoughts on Nightmare and Corrupt splitting. The DoubleNoot AU.

DoubleNight? Maybe?

When Nightmare got split from Corrupt he was very confused. The last thing nightmare remembered was almost dying and hearing his mother's dying screams as the villagers cut her down to get to the apples.

He remembers staring at the apple and just wanting to live. Wanting to not die. Wanting to be safe again. He grbabed the golden apple, watched it corrupt by his own negative feelings. And bit down anyway.

Only to wake up on battlefield. His body feeling weird and almost as if there is a disconnect. No where near anywhere he recognized and with all these weird skeletons around him. Especially the goop guy who reminds him of the corrupted apple a bit.

Nightmare does not, and never will, remember his time when he was in Corrupt. He was asleep and feeling slowly. All that he remembers are some nonsense dreams or beginning nightmares that always ended with a darkness that fell over him like a blanket. (He was able to find this comparison later when he finally got his first bed. He realises that while he was asleep he just felt wrapped up and cocooned.)

Corrupt for a ling time believed all of nightmares memories to be his own. Same for his feelings. But always felt weird about being called Nightmare.

Dream even said as much that he was not his brother anymore. So Corrupt agreed and decided to be named corrupt. As a way to reclaim the insult the villagers and later dream would throw at him. (Well the villagers at nightmare but you get the deal)

The reason why corrupt wasnt completely evil and more of a lawful neutral? It was because the negative feelings that corrupted the golden apple were fear and desperation. And mot for revenge or anything. Nightmare had wanted above else to feel safe.

And the apples are all about emotions. So when corrupt first formed the thing he had foremost was a wish to be safe and not be hurt anymore. The rage and hatred came later when within seconds all the memories of what the villagers said and did came rushing back.

When they split and when corrupt managed to see the difference between them and who was who he understands that in a way nightmare's honest and well positive wish to just feel safe was the thing that made corrupt more than just a negative creature band on destroying everything. (The thin dream says he is)

Corrupt protected nightmare since the start. Nightmare made it able for corrupt to be more than just a demon.

[iceemoondemon]

The style trio lmao

Banjex

Bamberly

Bamburai

Its supposed to be a redraw of this

[papple]

*slides in and bites lip* hayy....

so irl stuff happened but we've been cooking up some stuff here and there and we figured you guys might wanna see them :D

so we're gonna talk about the second dreamtale concept we have which is a variant of the swap!osd au by @calcium-cat,,,, and basically! nm has a harsher personality, but at the same time holds a much softer spot for dream. He fights back against his bullies and believes that dream is too kind and tells him so often using scathing comments, but dream understands that nm is just a little tsun tsun. Nm is also proud of all the knowledge he has cultivated and makes sure to rub it in peoples faces by delivering sick burns and insulting bullies left and right

For the apple incident, the apples blacken when nm and the villagers fight over the tree and he accidentally touches one of the fruits. Dream arrives in time to see the villagers dealing the fatal blow to nm as well as the tree

Desperate, dream feeds a black apple to nm hoping that it would still be able to heal him but instead intensifies nm's negativity. This later on will be the biggest factor behind dream's guilt

Nm is still dying so his negativity powers him to continue consuming the apples but he keeps going and the power eventually corrupts him

Now nm wants to get revenge so dream takes the last golden apple (this one fell from the tree while the tree was being cut, before the negativity got to it) to have more of a fighting chance and to better protect the people against nm, but he still gets petrified like in canon (or maybe we'll just put him in a coma induced by the intense negativity... i dont really understand the logic behind him turning to stone so we might toss out that idea) (we're open to suggestions though!)

Nm's adrenaline powered mind sees dream's petrified/knocked out self and goes mad, going on a rampage and destroying the entire village.

Of course, 500 years later, dream wakes up and joins ink's group. Ink actually asked sci to make something up that could weaken nightmare's gang but forgets about it, so the formula somehow ends up in dream's hands as the unofficial second in command. Dream, ever the guilt-ridden but hope-filled person, tests it out first on nm. Maybe, this could buy him just enough time to hold a civil conversation with him... imagine everyone's surprise when the lofty scholar-type king turns into a filthy mouthed baby gremlin

[aylish91]

Your writing is fantastic! I'm always so excited to read anything you post. Congratulations on all the followers!

Would it be OK to ask for something Dream x Reader? Happy, sad, angsty, fluffy, whatever you feel inspired to write (I'm sorry, I know that's not a very helpful prompt ^^; )

Thank you so much and thank you for giving me the opportunity to write this self-indulgent piece!!! Though it kicked my anus at times, I enjoyed it! It has an alternate ending for a Royal Au that's not quite finished as well. I will reblog it with the addition as soon as it is completed.

For now, have a dream meeting our fair reader in an older Au! I feel as if Dream would like the nostalgia once in a while. 😉

~~~

To Meet Beneath the Old Apple Tree

Nestled into the woods outside of your village stood an old apple tree. It sat far enough from the road that others seldom visited but close enough one could walk without trouble. It had been there since you could remember, and though old, it stood tall, reliably bearing fruit throughout the years. Steadfast and reliable. But most importantly, it was your favorite place to spend your time.

From how the sun shone through the leaves, to the trickling of the nearby creek; It created a sense of calm and safety. It was the only place that brought you a semblance of peace. 

You stared, contemplating the bountiful fruit above you. Birdsong echoed through the canopy but you remained still, thoughtful of your goal of gathering apples. They were ripe and in season, providing the sweetest of fruits for your endeavor.

If you could reach them.

It was a real conundrum. You had gathered as many of the low-hanging fruit as you could, but the rest were seemingly out of reach. Even standing on your toes, your fingers barely touched their bottoms. You couldn’t get enough of a hold to pull them down.

You huffed, wondering whether it was worth trying for more. You had enough to make something small, but the thought of leaving without a full basket gave you pause.

Apples were better before they fell to rot on the ground…

Making a decision, you settled on bringing a large rock over from the creek. It gave you the extra height you needed. Unfortunately, its nature and shape were not suited to the purpose for which it was being used. Though the apples were in reach, the rock wobbled dangerously beneath you. Undeterred, you carried on.

However, you did not anticipate a finely gloved hand brushing passed yours.

“Perhaps I may assist y—"

Your soul lept into your throat. You had not expected anyone to come this far down the path. The jolt it caused had the rock rolling and you tumbling back with a cry. Apples flew from your basket to litter the ground. Had it not been for the strong arms pulling you against a sturdy chest, you had no doubt you would have injured your ankle.

Through your heavy breaths, the concerned voice of your savior pulled at the back of your mind, their words not registering from the panic and apologies hanging on your lips. Scrambling to right yourself and turn, the subtle pressure along your arms escaped you.

“Oh my goodness! Forgive me! I didn’t realize...”

Your mind stalled. Finally looking up, you found yourself in awe. Golden eyelights and fine linen captivated you with their intricate designs. Despite the gentleman being of bone, his expressions were smooth, filled with a worry that radiated warmth you couldn’t comprehend. The soft chuckle as he spoke only served to instill your amazement.

“Please. It’s quite alright. No need for apologies. It is I who should be apologizing. I should have announced myself sooner.” Glancing towards the rock, his smile turned sheepish. “It was not my intention to startle you.”

The motion made your cheeks burn. You had not intended anyone seeing you foolishly teetering for apples, let alone someone of their standing. Adding to your shame, you only now realized he had been bracing your arms when his gloves gently slid over your sleeves. You didn’t know how to hold yourself. Opting for the customary politeness you were accustomed to, you did your best to ignore the lingering touch.

“You are too kind, My Lord. But if it wasn’t for my silliness, there would not have been a need to worry. But I do thank you for preventing my fall.”

His hands slid lower to grasp yours, lightly bringing one to his teeth. It made you painfully aware of his natural heat through the contact.

“My Lady, I would gladly catch you a thousand times if it got you to fall for me but once.”

You swear his eyelights brightened.

“M-my Lord!”

You didn’t think your face could become any hotter. You simply couldn’t find the words. You had known the man less than a few minutes and he was already sweeping you off your feet, physically and metaphorically. It turned you into a stuttering blushing mess as you desperately tried to calm yourself. It came with no surprise when he gave another chuckle, relinquishing his hold to step back and bow at the waist.

“My name is Dream. I do hope you can forgive me. I seem to keep getting ahead of myself. Something about this place…” His gaze wandered through the branches before he shook his head. “But I digress. Allow me to help you. It is the least I can do.”

…

Everything about the man in front of you was different. Strange, but charming and new.

With a great bit of deliberation and halfhearted denials to his pleas, you eventually relented to his help. Its oddity continued to perplex you. No one had ever taken the time before, and surely not as enthusiastically as Dream. His soft smile had remained as he knelt to gather fallen apples, offering small talk as you went. You couldn’t stop the smile his help in reaching more brought you. The longer you spent with him, the more relaxed and at ease you became.

You paid no mind when the basket filled and you both made your way to sit in the soft grass. The conversation was enjoyable, his company desired. You didn’t want it to end. He was as warm as the sun and just as interesting to speak with.

Unfortunately, all things must come to an end. Yours came in the form of a hurried skeleton monster dressed in white and black, hand gripping the hilt of a drawn sword as he called for your companion.

Dream, similarly, was quick to turn in answer.

“Cross! I was not expecting you. What…” For the first time, Dream’s features tightened into a well-hidden cringe. “Give me a moment. I will be with you shortly.”

Branches from the apple tree swayed above you, their fruit glinting in the light. You hated the look of regret Dream gave as he extended a hand to guide you. The way he avoided looking at you directly had your heart sinking.

“…It appears our time has come to an end. Though, I must confess. For what little moment we’ve shared, you have bewitched me body and soul. I have never known another that has captivated me so...” The gold of his eyelights finally met yours, hypnotic in the way their light swirled when your hands clasped one another’s. “It would do me a great honor if I could see you again.”

Something pulsed in your chest.

It felt like you could burst. You must have looked so strange with how wide your smile became. It wrinkled your eyes and made it harder to see.

“Of course! Please, I would like nothing more!” If there was any way you could see him again after this, you wanted to take it.

“Then so we shall. Right here? In a fortnight?”

The sun shone brighter through the trees, bringing with it a hope you thought you had long since forgotten. “I’ll be waiting.”

As quickly as he came, Dream left through the winding path, the strange knight following at his side. You were left dazed, watching long after they had vanished through the trees. Soul thrumming, phantom breath from his parting embrace pulled at the back of your mind.

… You would wait. Willingly and hopeful, you’d wait beneath the boughs of the old apple tree.

Dreamtale Aus GrandMaster

[polyhexian]

Tell and Cait in the Runaway AU.

Jasper and Hunter come across a remote village and Jasper's like "cool, let's see if they need help with anything, maybe we can get a roof for a week" and the first person he approaches turns around and it's Tell and they just stare at each other for a long moment like. What the fuck.

They're not-quite-mirror images, two Grimwalkers who escaped with their family, but one managed to settle down and raise his kid with spousal and community support, and the other one is constantly on the run and exhausted.

Caitlyn is immediately like "well of course you can stay with us forever!" but Jasper looks at her and Tell and their daughter and grandchildren and as much as it pains him to deprive Hunter of a chance for a decent childhood he's like "the current Golden Guard is actively hunting us, and every second we stay here is another second you're all in danger" and Tell looks at Caitlyn and he's like "yeah I have to agree with him on this, sorry."

Of course then imagine Will shows up but he manages to convey that he JUST WANTS TO ASK SOME QUESTIONS - wait who's this guy? And then he's sitting in Caitlyn's living room holding a cup of semi-suspicious apple blood she prepared for him with a glower while Jasper and Tell engage in the closest thing they've ever had to therapy, taking turns ranting out trauma-dumps about how much Belos sucks while Will just sits there and blinks.

Jasper and tell staring at each other and both know exactly what those pink eyes mean but aren't totally sure that the OTHER knows what those pink eyes mean. Tell looks down and sees hunter and HIS pink eyes and is like wtf. And he's @ jasper like are you-- are you a grimw- which of course means jasper goes feral and just attacks him. Cue fist fight between two panicked clones while Caitlyn and hunter are like UH and Enoch pokes her little head around the corner of the cake stall she was messing around in like UH

The exact same thing happens again when Will shows up and tell and jasper are both like GET HIM and shortly thereafter you have these three men covered in dirt and bruises sitting around the coffee table with their tea and Caitlyn like 8I and Enoch showing Hunter her collection of dead animal skills in her room

[orbital-inclination]

Molten Dreams - master post

All Moltendreams content can be found under the Moltendreams!au Tag.

Summary: Molten Dreams is an AU variant of Dreamtale in which Dream is corrupted instead of Nightmare but remains a kind person. The brothers travel the multiverse together, seeking a cure. Extended Summary (Story): Dream and Nightmare’s childhood follow the events of Dreamtale closely. Dream’s kindness is taken advantage of while Nightmare is relentlessly bullied and shunned by the village. Gradually, Dream finds it harder and harder to say no. He spends less and less time guarding the tree with his brother. They grow distant and frustrated with each other.

One day, while Dream is sent away on an errand outside the villager, a group of humans and monsters approach the tree and demand apples from it. Their village had been suffering from a drought for months, and the Tree of Emotions, sacred as it may be, was the only thing bearing fruit. When Nightmare refuses, they turn violent.

To defend himself and the tree, Nightmare consumes one black apple but in the end it's not enough. Dream returns just in time to save his brother from a fatal blow. Barely clinging to consciousness, Dream bites into a golden apple, unaware that his side of the tree had been inflicted by a curse born of greed. The act of consuming the apple brands the curse onto Dream’s soul. He consumes more than one after that, unable to stop himself. Traumatized, Dream and Nightmare leave their world behind and spend the rest of their childhood and adolescence nomadically. They move from AU to AU, unable to settle anywhere.

The bulk of the story takes place centuries later. Driven by guilt and a sense of responsibility, Nightmare is determined to find a way to get rid of the goop that Dream is covered in. Dream struggles with and attempts to hide his own demons. In the meantime, the pair work to archive balance in a multiverse that is over-saturated with positivity. The brothers are often viewed with ambivalence and sometimes outright hostility, both by the inhabitants of local AUs and sometimes by fellow outcodes.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────• Molten!Dream Ref tagged as Molten!Dream

Called Molt, for short. Dream is branded by a curse that is deeply tied to the state of the larger Multiverse. As positivity spreads, he is rendered blind, as positivity recedes, Dream is weakened but is able to retain his sight. Personality: Kind, courageous, empathetic (both emotionally and literally), reserved, quiet, tolerant, docile/mild, petty, and prone to making decisions informed by his emotions over logical thought.

Rem!Nightmare Ref tagged as: moltendreams!nightmare, rem!nightmare. Called Rem/Remmy for short, his full name is Remembrance. For him, negativity manifests as black and starry, instead of a goopy/inky one. Personality: scholarly, haughty, guilt-ridden, irritable, moody, introverted, secretive, straight-laced, and cynical. Prefers to make informed logical decisions over those influenced by emotion.

The twins were "born" on March 23rd!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Written Stuff: "What I never told you" - part 1, part 2

Comics: "Bad Day" part 1, Aftermath "It won't wash off" "Gingerbread House"

Stuff from the Unnamed AU: In Which Rem and Molt meet their Alternate Selves. "A Joint Meeting" "Rem meets Nightmare" "Molt meets Dream" "So Rem, how's that "I've been kidnapped thing" going?" "Molt meets Nightmare" "Reunion and Reversal" part 1

[glamoureddreamer]

Birthday

Undertale Nightmare and Dream

Warnings: None (please let me know if this is wrong)

Considering a part 2 but I’m unsure I hope you enjoy :) have a great day

"Happy birthday Nightmare, I love you." Nightmare smiles pulling his brother closer.

"I love you too Dream, Happy birthday."

Dream watches the stars above them, twinkling far away. Providing a small amount of light. The apple tree covers his view of some of the stars but he didn’t complain.

"You won't leave me right?" Dream asked without warning. He didn't want to tell his brother but he felt as if something bad was going to happen soon. This was their calm before the storm, but he couldn’t explain it.

"Stars Dream, why would you ever think of such a thing.. of course I won't."

"Can you promise me?" Dream asks tears filling his sockets that go unnoticed by Nightmare.

~~~

"I promise Dream." Nightmare says looking at the tree stump in his abandoned au.

Today was their birthday and they were spending it away from each other again. Nightmare was sure Dream could feel it, the ache of being away from each other. They were always supposed to stay to guard the tree never being that far apart from each other.

Nightmare felt guilt, which is why he returned for today at least.

Coming to his old AU always brought up other feelings as well, like anger towards their mother, towards the villagers, and towards himself.

He never admitted it to anyone not even his team but he didn’t want to fight his brother anymore, he wanted to wrap his arms around him and apologize for everything he’s done. But admittedly he was afraid of what would happen if he did, would Dream even want to stop fighting? Does Dream hate him like he hates himself?

He brushes his hand against the stump but something startles him, he quickly takes his hand off the tree and turns around quickly. He was shocked to see who stood before him, his defense went down.

“Hello, Brother.” Dream stood a few feet away from him, his positivity wasn’t as strong and he seemed almost sad.

“Hi, Nightmare.” It was quiet between the two and somewhat awkward, it made Nightmare feel even worse. It was all his fault.

“I’ll leave.” Nightmare said after a moment, he turned around and made a portal.

He was about to go through when there was a hand on his shoulder, knowing whose it was he almost cried.

“Wait Nightmare..” Hesitantly he closes the portal and turns towards Dream.

“Yes?” He was always good at hiding his emotions, even as a child.

“Why…” He starts, seemingly testing out the water.

“Why are you here?”

“I always come here.” He quietly admits.

“You do?” Dream asks in a hopeful manner.

“Yes, only on special occasions.”

“Well… you don’t have to leave. If you want I can go.” Dream suggests. Nightmare thinks for a moment, debating his options.

“You can stay. I am going to stay too.” He says before sitting down against the stump much like how they used to.

Dream stood standing for a second before sitting down right next to him. After a few moments of silence, Nightmare heard a sniffle. Dream wasn’t like him, he didn’t know how to hide his emotions.

“Are you alright?” He asks without turning towards him.

“Sorry.” He whimpered.

“Don’t apologize.”

“I just..thought you..hated me, hated mom, our childhood.” Nightmare felt his words pierce his soul and the tears he’d been holding onto spilled.

“..I could never hate you.” He says quietly his voice too was broken.

Dream shifts and Nightmare turns to see only to find Dream sitting on his knees facing him. Dream had golden tears running down his face, despite the corruption Nightmare’s tears were purple.

“why? Why try to hurt me? Kill positivity?” Dream asks his voice breaking more each second. Nightmare swallows the lump in his throat and looks away from Dream.

“The world must be balanced. An equal amount of positivity and negativity, I have to bring about negativity. However, it is never us that attacks first.”

“Ink..” Dream quietly mumbles, and Nightmare nods with a hum.

“So you’ve..been doing your job and we’ve been.. oh, stars.. I’m so sorry..” Dream covers his mouth and his chest shakes as he starts to cry.

Nightmare hesitated but before his body told him he shouldn’t he went for it. Nightmare pulls Dream into a hug.

“Do not be sorry. It is my fault. All of this..is my fault.” Dream wraps his arms around his brother not caring about covering up his sobs anymore.

They both hold each other and cry, finally freeing 500 years worth of pain.

They had a lot of work to do.

[cutiedwaekki]

fairytail

—i'm in love with a fairytail

Changbin centric

summary : when the slightly too greedy fairy lets his greed take over

contain : fairy AU ; rapid weight gain ; magic weight gain ; mention of immobility

A/n : because im still not over from fairy changbin in their fanmeeting 🥹😭

( ^-^)ノ∠※。.:*:・'°☆

Once upon a time in the enchanted forest, there lived a little fairy named Changbin.

The fairy was born of a union between a fairy and an ogre who, despite defying the rules of the impossible, loved each other so much that they gave birth to Changbin, a fairy who on the outside seemed quite innocent. But unlike other fairies, Changbin had an insatiable appetite, partly due to his ogre side.

He feasted on all nature's delicious treats: juicy berries, sweet flower nectar and even the most delicate mushrooms. But his guilty pleasure was the magical sweets made by the local elves.

Fortunately for him, he had good genes, although years of gluttony were evident in his plump cheeks and generous hips. But his personality was so energetic and brilliant that he was never mocked, and everyone loved Changbin.

You want to make Changbin happy? Give him some strawberries!

Want to thank him for the favor he did you by guiding the little dwaekki to their lair? Give him rose cookies

Would you like to give him a gift to congratulate him on his wedding with the earth elf Seungmin? A simple layer cake will do.

But that's how it was, everyone knew Changbin as the greedy fairy who refused nothing.

( ^-^)ノ∠※。.:*:・'°☆

In the enchanted glade, Changbin was on his way to the village of the water fairies, where he had spent the day with his friend Yeonjun, chatting about the good old days in front of a heap of food, for if there was one thing that united these two fairies, it was their voracious appetites.

But on the way back, Changbin was attracted by a scent, an unfamiliar yet pungent and comforting smell. As he followed it, he came upon a large fruit tree.

He gazed in admiration at this species of beech he'd never heard of before. The apples were so big, looked so juicy and were an impressive golden color.

Changbin stood in front of the majestic fruit tree, his eyes shining with excitement at the sight of the golden apples. Each fruit seemed to radiate an enchanting aura, a temptation he couldn't resist. He reached out and grabbed the first apple, lifting it carefully before bringing it to his lips.

He was right, they were juicy, it was like drinking apple juice in a single bite, it was divine, he felt as if he'd reached ataraxia, nothing else could disturb him at that moment, nothing.

At least... until he noticed that he'd finished eating the apple. There were no seeds, he'd eaten the whole thing, leaving nothing.He hesitated to continue on his way, but he still wanted that taste in his mouth, he wanted to taste his golden apples again and again.

—Minnie always tells me I should eat more fruit, so he won't mind if I eat some more he said to himself as he picked more and ate them with equal pleasure.

After the second, it took a third, then a fourth, and so on in a never-ending cycle.

But as he continued to eat, he began to feel a weight in his stomach. At first it was just a feeling of fullness, but soon it turned into an oppressive heaviness. He ignored his body's warning signals, determined to satisfy his insatiable greed. The apples seemed to multiply, as if the tree itself was responding to his voracious desire.

Changbin couldn't stop. He began to gobble apples at a frenetic pace, his movements becoming more and more desperate as he sought to appease the insatiable hunger that consumed him. With each mouthful, he felt his stomach stretch a little further, his clothes become tighter and tighter around his waist.

But he couldn't stop. He needed more, always more, as if food had become his only reason for being.As he continued to eat, he began to feel a weight in his stomach. At first it was just a feeling of fullness, but soon it turned into an oppressive heaviness. He ignored his body's warning signals, determined to satisfy his insatiable appetite.

Suddenly, he felt a strange numbness invade his body. His limbs felt heavy, his movements clumsy. He tried to stand up, to fly away as he had done in the past, but his body refused to respond. It was as if he were rooted to the ground, trapped in his own bloated body.

Unbeknownst to him, the golden apples were enchanted. As he ate them, Changbin began to feel his body swell. His body become huge, his fairy wings were increasingly covered with fat. But he couldn't stop, too obsessed by the divine taste of magic apples.

But then , Changbin watched in horror as his reflection appeared in a nearby puddle. His round but delicate face had become round and puffy , he could even notice et second lr even a third chin with cheeks almost grotesquely swollen. His belly protruded from his clothes, a flabby mass of flesh that seemed to have taken possession of his body.

—N-no... it can't be he said, frightened, as he touched his belly, which continued to swell until his belt broke and the button on his pants popped off, ricocheting off the river water.He tried to fasten his pants but couldn't, his belly becoming too big. Then he heard a tearing noise. His thighs had also thickened until they were no longer contained in his pants, just like his ass that just grew bigger until he can't carry all of it and just fall down. Hopefully with those big butt he didn't get hurt.

—Well ... that could be worse .. right ? he thought before the buttons of his shirt popped one by one revealing his massive stomach as well as the opening of his chest hanging heavily on his body

Soon, Changbin had grown so big that he could no longer fly. He tried to flap his wings, but his swollen body stubbornly stayed on the ground. He could no longer fly; his wings couldn't support the weight of his body. As Changbin desperately tried to flap his wings, he cried out for help.

( ^-^)ノ∠※。.:*:・'°☆

Fortunately, his fairy friends Jisung and Felix, who happened to be picking enchanted berries at the same time, came along, attracted by their friend's cries of distress.

They stopped dead in their tracks as they saw the scene unfolding before them: Changbin, once a buff with a slight pudge, now entangled in his own corpulence, trying in vain to fly away in a body far too big for it.

—Changbin, what did happen to you ?exclaimed Jisung, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Felix approached, his face flushed with concern. You can't fly? But why?

Changbin bowed his head in shame. I don't know... I just can't get off the ground.

Jisung and Felix exchanged a look full of concern. "Can you ... get up and walk ?" Ask again Felix.

Changbin blushed in shame, looking down at his stomach while playing with his navel, it was so deep he could stick his entire middle finger in there. he immediately added No... I don't think so

Is it because of... your weight gain? asked Jisung , hesitant to broach the delicate subject.

Changbin nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. Yes, it's because of that. I got too fat to fly.

Jisung laid a comforting hand on Changbin's shoulder. You should have listened to us, my friend. We warned you about the dangers of eating too much. These apples are the apples of passion, only the dwaekkis can eat them without fear because the enzymes in their body can assimilate the side effects without problems. But a fairy... we're is intolerant to these apples, it just makes us blowing up... Felix nodded.

—But now we have to find a way to help you.

Changbin nodded in shame.

( ^-^)ノ∠※。.:*:・'°☆

For two hours his friends had tried everything to get him to stand up, but he was just too fat.

They even had to call on Seungmin, his fiancé, a very powerful elf who could move the earth like a treadmill, bringing Changbin to him without him having to make a single move.

It was then that Seungmin faced the new body of his fiancé.

Felix had told him he'd become fat, but he hadn't expected it. HE WAS IMMOBILE, he could hardly move!

And his face lit up when he saw Changbin. Instead of showing displeasure or disappointment, he approached Changbin and embraced him tenderly.

—Oh my love, it must have been a long day for you, so I'm going to make you a hibiscus infusion, your favorite! With some cookies of course i know you can't drink your tea without them he said, kissing the oldest's forehead as he helped him to get along to their house, which as they talked grew larger, surely a Seungmin spell to make the house spacious enough for his fiancé's new body.

Changbin looked up, touched by Seungmin's comforting words. Really? You don't think I'm... ridiculous?

—Why should I? I've always loved your round cheeks, but now I've got more of you to love he added, pecking his cheek before pebbling happily back into the house.

They say that greed is a villainous flaw, but it's what makes Seo Changbin, the fairy, his greatest asset.