#if i stay i work endlessly to make not enough money to even feed us.

[lolita-lollipop]

Red

You, a mere farm girl, has found herself living a nightmare after hearing countless town rumors of a barbarian society moving west. A quiet girl in a quiet town is faced with many shocking discoveries in a matter of two days.

the day was hot, miserably so. the sun beating down on your bare back with an unrelenting warmth, making your work twenty times harder. The sun even warmed up the dirt and stone lying underneath your bare feet, working the fields barefoot was already hard enough, the burning sensation under your feet made it no easier.

You couldn't remember the last time you had water, or any form of nutrition. They didn't bother feeding the "low class" likes of you anymore, field and cattle workers, endlessly working for the sake of producing cash crops and cattle for the village. It wasn't slavery, they couldn't call it slavery as it had been outlawed for years now in this kingdom. Even so, you were paid dirt and were treated as slaves always had been.

you worked and worked and worked night and day, in every season of the year for the "sake of the village" they would say, you among a small group of farm workers lived in a small barn out back, with no insulation or form of bathroom. you shared one room between sixteen workers a small space not fit for even two.

Every day, all day, you would find yourself in a similar situation to this one, in a small sack of a dress covered in dirt, knees on the ground with your hands enveloped completely in dirt either pulling weeds from the ground or planting small seeds for potatoes or carrots or the occasional beet, with the hot sun beating down on your back, heaving and panting. just like you always did, you dug through the soil, pulling out weeds, your bare feet digging into the dirt behind you, burning with the heat of the sun. you were humming an old lullaby your mother used to sing before she died, peacefully doing your work no matter how hot and miserable you should be.

your humming came to a halt when you heard a burst of girly young giggles echo through the field off in the distance, the village girls. They would sometimes come out here for fun, either to make fun of the workers or to run around the fields, the owners didn't care so neither did you, if the rich kids liked the farm than so did their parents, meaning more money for everybody but you. You found yourself envious of their freedom in life. They didn't have to work, not like you did. You were about the same age, yet they were dressed in pretty sundresses with bows in their hair, while you were reduced to something akin to a potato sack, hair tied back in plain looking ponytail, they were plump and round and beautiful while you stayed frail and skinny and sickly looking.

You found yourself staring at them, hidden among the plants and crops, unseen by their unfocused eyes, it was easy to just drift off, to imagine yourself giggling with them, being part of their group, gossiping about the town rumors. It was a nice thought. unachievable, but nice.

"Did you hear about that foreighn kingdom conquering west?" they giggled to each other, clearly not noticing you tucked behind the corn rows. You had yet to hear anything about any foreign kingdom, then again you were fairly uninformed, your only news coming from your colleagues or your boss, who spoke to you once or twice a month. The two other girls let out false-sounding gasps, intrigued.

"I know right? My father speaks about the towns they've conquered. Apparently, it's brutal, they leave no survivors and burn the fields and town. " The girl's giggles became hushed and quiet as she went on, listening intently with wide eyes, you sat behind the plants. They were smiling as she said all of this, wasn't this supposed to be sad, be awful? how could they laugh at the destruction of so many towns? So many lives?

"My mother has been talking about the same things! Apparently, a couple survivors tried to come into town, and the guards sent them packing though. Good thing too, they looked dirty. dirt belongs in the field, not in a home." she brought her hand to her lips and let out a giggle, the rest followed suit while you stared. You couldn't tell if they were being serious, they lived ina different world, that much was obvious.

"Ive heard stories! How they kill the women and children in front of their families, burn down homes and villages, apparently their leader is the worst of them. The biggest and strongest and meanest" she snickered in a disgusting, prissy rich way.

"We dont have to worry of course, they would spare us, father would pay them all the money in the world. Its the low levels who should be worried." They all erupted in giggles at that one, and all looked towards your fellow workers, pointing at their clothes and matted hair and dirty hands. You were apart of the "low levels" as they had said, you hated that. And you hated these girls for making you feel less than them just for not being born with a roof over your head.

You scowled at them, now hating them with all of your energy. Maybe it was best that you stayed away from them, it makes sense why you aren't part of their clique, why you never would be part of their clique. Fuck them, and their high-class prissy fathers. You let out a sigh and tried to back up, wanting to disappear among the plants, accidentally cracking a stick with your bare foot and letting a hiss. All of their heads snapped towards your hidden spot.

"Who's there?" The snooty one with the high pitched nasally voice screeched out. You slapped your hand over your mouth, inching back as fast as you could without making noise, the owners of the farm would beat you if they knew you were eavesdropping on the high class girls.

"Its probably one of those workers" the other hissed, poison laced in her tone.

"Come out freak! you like listening on our conversation?" You ran as they yelled for you, abandoning your seeds and work. Their taunts followed you, however eventually their voices quieted and you were left with the shocking information that a foreign barbarian kingdom was migrating west. You were west, and so was your village. They were moving towards you, especially if the survivors from a raid were close enough to walk on foot to your village, they had to be close.

By the time the sun went down and all the workers were in the servants quarters you were able to ask your questions, the younger workers knew nothing, but the elderly and middle aged were willing to tell the stories from their younger times of the war. You had never taken a history class, or any class at all for that matter so you had no clue about anything they would say, you hadn't even known that there was a war.

They were foreigners who lived among the trees and the mountains, known for brutal manslaughter, they weren't human, that much a clear. They were giant apparently, after and stronger and larger,ith predatory instincts and habits, they were like animals. . They even lived longer. The eldest of the women here had been in one of the village raids all those years ago, they killed her entire family while she was hiding in the closet, then burned her house down, leaving her with burn scars all over her body. They told stories of torture and theft and assault, and the worst part about it was that they had no motive other than bloodlust, they looted homes, but they never demanded money or women or crops. Nobody knew what they wanted, they never told the towns their demands, they would just come and go, leaving fire and death in their dust.

The fact that they were approaching closer and closer as the days ticked by, left you shaking.

Mentions of their brutal leader left you even more fearful, as he preyed on the weak. Tearing out the throats of innocents and ignoring pleas or cries for help. You were weak. Like all those he has killed.

You went to sleep that night hoping that it was all just rumors, silly townsfolk gossip that the girls made up to fill the boredom and free time.

needless to say, you didn't sleep much that night.

---

When you woke up,the quarters were empty, you shared a bed with four other people, so waking up without the company of another was quite jarring. At first, you jolted out of bed, terrified of missing the morning work, knowing it would surely receive you a beating. However the others would wake you up if you had not arisen with the rest, and it was still quite dark outside, so that simply hadn't made any sense. looking around, the room was in a state of disarray, the beds oddly moved around, the thin blankets strewn about, and the little belongings that all of you had were either gone or thrown around the room. What had happened while you were asleep, and more importantly, how had you slept through it?

then, the smell of smoke hit you.

Thick and heavy it brought bile to your throat, this wasn't a forest fire or campfire, this wasn't something where empty air was burning, this smelled like meat, like flesh and bone being burned. you gagged, covering your mouth and nose with the thin fabric of the blanket. you stumbled out the creaky door of your quarters, coughing and trying to block the smell out, but were halted in your tracks.

Fire. Fire everywhere. The farm, the house, even the forest around. The only thing left untouched was the animal barn, thank god. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of acres of land ablaze, weeks and weeks of work lit with slivers of red and yellow light. The warmth radiating off of it burned your face. were you dreaming? this must be some form of a dream.

dream or not, you were in danger.

Once you were able to get over the initial shock of your home being literally lit on fire, you tried to tune into any other noises than the crackling sound of flames. Anything to hint where you should go, where you should run. You had never left this farm, your mother was a slave here before it was outlawed, and you were born into the work, forbidden to leave. Not once had you stepped foot into town, and you certainly have never left the town. You didn't know where to go.

Then you heard it, the screams. people, so many people screaming, you didn't know where to go, but it would be in the opposite direction of wherever that was, whatever was making that noise. So, with a very impulsive decision you ran away from the screams, into the direction of an empty winding dirt road, you tried to think logically, if you could find someone then you could follow them and figure out where to go.

The quiet running was harsh on your bare feet, sprinting down the empty dirt road as quietly as you could was not easy for somebody medically unwell and malnourished. However, there would be much time later to sulk over achy bones and pained feet. Was there anybody even here? you could still smell the stench, although it was getting softer. However, you still clutched the cotton blanket in your hand. Your pace slowed as exhaustion kicked in, and to your luck, you heard voices. Not quiet and soft like the ones you were used to, loud and boisterous. men.

you found yourself frozen on the trail, listening in on the conversation as best as you could you inched to the side of the road, trying to hide among the trees. They looked strange, not dressed all properly like the owner of the farm or the village girls you had seen. Their clothes were woven in a precise ay you had never seen before, jewels and beads hung from their hair and necks, chests bare and blood splattered.The more you stared, the weirder and weirder they looked, too large, too muscular, their voices too harsh. inhuman sounding.

"The towns already a fucking gonor, chief said to wait to set the forest on fire till he was done in the homes" One of the Men laughed out with a menacing cackle, his shoulders shaking, the others seemed too happy, too excited to be starting fires. They were up to this.

"Those guards were a riot though. All tough until they realized we weren't going down "Please spare me!" and "We'll let you in we swear!"" the other mocked in a high-pitched voice. They laughed along as they mocked the guards of your town. As they walked down the road, getting closer and closer to you by the second, you were now able to see blood all over them, splattered on their strange clothing. Your breath hitched as they passed you, still hiding in the bushes by the side of the road.

Thank god they hadn't seen you, whoever they were, they clearly would not do you well. Two giant men conversing about arson and the death of the town guards were not anybody you wanted to mess with.

wait.

The realization hit you like a brick. These were the foreign raiders from the east. How were you so stupid, how had you let yourself forget in the span of a couple hours? They were tearing your town apart just like the others before. That's why your farm was ablaze. Thats why your Coworkers were gone. Thats why you heard screaming.

Your breath hitched as a couple tears left your eyes, you clutched the blanket in your hand, oh god, your town was going to be one of many trampled and raided beyond repair. your knees began to quiver along with your hands, you were a gonor. you had to run. now.

Stumbling back from the shock of the realization, you turned to quietly make your way further down the road, away from the town, away from those men. They were far enough that they wouldn't hear your quiet footsteps, you were sure of it. So you held your breath and pulled away from the tree, staying in the dark.

However, while your footsteps were quiet as a mouse, the same white blanket that had brought you comfort just moments ago had doomed you, when you had maneuvered away so focused on the quietness of your footsteps, you had failed to notice that delicate cotton blanket had gotten snagged on a tree branch. pulling away from you and causing a loud snap in the branches. Your breath hitched as you stared at the tree with wide eyes, stumbling back and letting the blanket free from your hand. You sent a glance at the two men who had been meters away, praying for their hearing to be weaker than their muscles.

They were instead, standing feet away from you, staring directly at you.

A whimper escaped your lips as you backed away in fear, turning on your heel and making a move to run directly backwards. Not before the taller of the two could reach out and grab the collar of the sack you called a dress, yanking you back and knocking the wind out of you. before you knew it you were lifted off the ground with one arm by the collar of your dress, staring in terror as the eight foot tall man in front of you looked down with excited eyes. He flashed a smile with all too sharp teeth, sending you sprialing into endless fear.

The other said something in what sounded like a foreign language, not something you would ever understand. Before you could move, the larger of the two bendy down and smelled the air right next to you, with that his smile dropped and the two locked eyes. Some kind of realization hit them as well, while you remained unknowing and absolutely terrified.

"well, looks like we missed one, didnt we?" he questioned with a deep voice, the fear alone sent your heart into a free fall, beating out of control. you couldn't breathe, your lungs pulsing in and out against your will as panic flooded them. spots clouded yourision as the man continued to say something, and with one breath you felt your consciousness slip out from under your feet.

---

you woke up lying on the hard feeling of cement stones, the stench from the fire before worse than you had ever smelled it, sending you into a fit of coughs. Squinting your eyes open, you were able to see small cottage-like buildings, you were in the village, weren't you? You were in the square judging by the large open space of square stones. with heavy eyelids you tried to unblur your vision, and as you did, you found that cold sense of panic enveloping your bloodstream yet again. red, red everywhere. you were sitting in a puddle of it.

Silently freaking out, you pushed yourself up with weak limbs, trying your best to stand, you couldn't remember what had happened, but you were still alive, that's what was important. looking around none of those men were near, but the fires were. should you even bother running? would they come back and catch you. there was blood soaked through your dress, your head ached, and you found your bare feet wet with the blood of the townsfolk.

you found yourself dry heaving due to the stench, tears escaping your eyes, all while stumbling around the square in the meantime. your attention was immediately drawn to the high pitched screaming of what sounded to be a girl. finding the sound with your eyes, it was one of the girls from the farm, white bow still tied in her hair. She was lying on the ground, a pool of blood lying at where her head had met the stone just moments ago, her hands were up above her head in a shield-like motion.

"Please! Please! I can pay you anything you want! Money and jewels or crops I swear I am no commoner! I just need my father! Please!" she screamed up, your eyes panned up from the girl lying on the ground to a man. not just a man, a giant. at least ten feet tall with arms a width larger than your head, he had icy hair that seemed to stick out in every direction like an explosion, and eyes. oh god. his eyes were red as the blood surrounding him, piercing and raging more so than anything you had ever seen. He was looking down at her like she was a bug ready to be squashed, with such hatred that you could swear he had a personal vendetta.

This was him, this was the infamous leader that was ever-so talked about. and he exceeded expectations, this man was a walking nightmare, fear itself packed into ten feet of muscle and blonde hair. You hadn't even realized his plans until his foot came down on her head, and with a crunch, the screaming came to an abrupt halt.

For the third time in two days, you found yourself frozen, staring at somebody you would never dare to talk to. And for the third time,they were staring right back at you.

The giant man flicked his boot as red splattered on the ground next to him, all while still staring at you, he let the girl's wrist go, and dropped her body to the ground with a thump. he made slow strides to a frozen little you, each step sending shivers down your spine, as you stumbled back, finally able to move, he was already inches in front of you, leaning over to be face to face.

You didn't bother running, learning from your mistakes that running results in nothing and you still get caught. Instead, you met his eyes for a moment, finding something else deep down. He was leaned over, bent down on one knee, inches away from your face. this was it, you give up. you're dead.

you squinted your eyes closed, deciding it would be best not to look as you met your inevitable death, face to face with the grim reaper himself, you chose not to stare him in the eye. peacefully accepting your fate. You waited for impact, waited to feel something hit you over the head or knock your kneecaps out. You waited for something, anything to end your miserable existence.

but it never came.

your hands quivering, your heart pittering in your chest at five hundred beats per minute. tears running freely down your cheeks, catching dirt and blood on the way down. A hand gently met your face, cupping your cheek, You peeled your eyes open to meet his own piercing crimson globes.

And to your surprise, the man smiled. not like the smile the others gave you, not like a predator bearing its teeth, but a genuine smile, one that you had only ever seen worn by your mother.

"Pretty" he grumbled out, an accent hanging over his voice. it was deep and gravelly and powerful. his giant hand came up to touch your cheek and wipe your tears away, wiping dirt and blood off with his fingertips. This hands could crush your neck with ease if he wanted to, but he wont. Why wont he?

"Why are you doing this?" you sobbed out, finding every last ounce of fight left in you to pull back from his touch and defiantly meeting his crimson gaze once more. your breathing shallow, you felt at risk of feinting once more. He tilted his head with a questioning grunt, and you decided to play your luck once more.

"Why do you raid my village, what have you to gain? You sobbed in his face and his smile shifted and morphed slowly into a frown, he cocked his head even further, his face twisting up into confusion.

"This is not a raid, we do not raid. were not cruel. " His gruff voice continued to send shivers down your spine, yet his words let rage flow through your bones. hundreds dead, maybe thousands, all of your friends, and family even, probably also dead. and this "wasn't a raid" according to him. you couldn't find it in yourself to care that he was twice your height, and quadruple your strength, you wanted to hit him so hard that he would feel it for days, even if it meant breaking your wrist.

"Theyre all dead, why? We have done nothing." You couldn't believe you were talking to one of them right now, you could barely believe that you had the courage to even muster a word, let alone a whole conversation. His hand found your waist, the other touching your face once more. What the hell was happening? surrounded by blood and death and this man, no, this thing was touching youso lovingly. the shivering of your hands threatened to come back again as you held his gaze.

"We look for our mates, and we prove that we are strong enough to be worth your time." The second the words left his mouth youwere once again reminded that he was anything but a human, they were creatures of nature, you'd seen squirells and horses and cows find mates, never humans. but you were stupid to think he was even remotely close to a human. the words had your face twisting in distress, and you stumbling back, your consciousness threatening to slip from under you once more.

"mates?" you questioned, voice wavering with uncertainty. this could not be happening, you could not be talking about love surrounded by bodies on top of bodies in a burning town with a man who wasn't really a man and instead a foreign alien like giant creature.

"mates,

you."

and with those words your eyes rolled back into your skull and your consciousness slipped through the cracks of the stone, you fell forward and the man was glad to catch you. standing up with you in his arms was a triumphant moment for him, finding his mate as a real, as a king was a monumentous occasion. you were his, undeniably his. he had finally found you.

katsuki bakugou had finally found his mate.

[starlightdreaming]

Lucifer x Fem!Reader!

Content warning: ANGST TO FLUFF! :3 REALISTIC themes of REALITY (FROM MY PERSPECTIVE) this is a vent fic but I added my delusions of fluff for comfort, theres slight starvation of oneself (eating disorders right?) (this fic been in the back of my head all week)

(this MADE ME CRY WHILE WRITING I KID YOU NOT)

Synopsis: dealing with reality isn’t easy for anyone, upon walking home one day, you found a mirror, hoping you could sell the mirror for some cash, you discovered something money can’t buy… happiness.

(im craving for fluff)

making a one shot for my delusions

(the song that supported my delusions)

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭*Dancing within the mirror* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Your life wasn’t very pleasing to live, hell, life wasn’t pleasing to live at all, all the stress and endurance was so tiring, going to school, day in, day out was the least of your worries after you graduated.

Every kid has always said, “I can’t wait to grow up and do my own things!” at least once. once.

Now that you are an adult, nothing was as it seemed when you were younger. Yeah, you can do anything you wanted if you put your mind to it but it came with a price.. and that price was money.

Without money, you couldn’t do anything you dreamed of doing, without money, you couldn’t afford the things you even wanted- and to get anything you wanted, you had to get a ‘job.’ it’s the balance of life some say, but to you? it was control, it wasn’t about what you want or what you get, it’s all about having you work for the… them.

those people. the 1% some would call them.

Your mind deteriorated more and more from just not living anymore, just surviving.. you work, get the money, pay your taxes, pay your bills: your car, your electricity, your water, food, housing, insurance- everything.

You sat on the edge of your bed in your cold dark room, the moonlight twinkling in, it’s luminous rays escaping through the curtains at the window, you laid your head down crying and stressed, you can’t continue to survive like this, you just wanted to live.

You watch old shows and movies for comfort, wishing life would never change and forever stay the same, you wanted the world to stop revolving so you can just breathe. You watch cartoons and such, cause it seems they are living much happier than you ever will. Your mind always drifted off to just one day, you can lay in the grass and listen to the soft winds, the trees and grass rustling, dancing together as one with the wind.

You drew characters of your own, characters from your favorite shows and wrote everything your mind would drift off to, to cope with the bleak life that you had.

Sometimes, you wish reality could just.. shift, like if you wanted to live in your comfort characters universe? you could just poof! and then be there, talking for however long you wanted.

You sighed as you turned off your device, going to bed, too tired to do anything due to fatigue from nine hours of labor, you tucked yourself in, playing soft music to help you sleep with some sort of comfort, you closed your eyes to await another lifeless day of nothingness.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ •✧

Another exhausting day at work, you walk home, your car broke down for the nth time, knowing how corrupt reality is, it was intentional by the people who you got it from. Another bill to be paid, just to get your car fixed, just to work more, pay more, just to feed them.

You barely made it through the monthly payments, saving enough to pay them all off but not enough to feed you. You silently walked in the grass, no sidewalks to be seen cause everyone used cars nowadays, never their feet and it made the people who are supposed to run the country (or states), neglect their ideals that they offered the people.

You sighed, exhausted, walking for a whole hour, you decided to rest. You worked nine hours that day, walking endlessly and now you’re here, walking home. You pulled a bottle of water you had with you from your pocket, taking a sip to refreshen yourself, it was less half than empty but it was enough for you to be hydrated for your next other hour you had to walk home. When you drive to work, it’s only eight minutes but walking? it was fifteen times longer.

You got up to your feet to walk again, stuffing the empty plastic bottle into your pocket to find a place to dispose it, not wanting to litter the earth than it already has been from neglectful people who could care less where their trash goes.

Walking past a dumpster, you neared your destination to home, you tried to put in the bottle but as you did, you saw something glimmering in your eyes, you took a second glance at what was shining in the dumpster, there, you see the sun reflecting off a mirror- but not just any mirror, a beautiful one. It looked old and antique but it was so mesmerizing to look at, it had unique designs, embedded with gold, at the top of the mirror, sat an apple, a white snake wrapped around it, it was in quite good condition, not even the glass was cracked, ��who would throw such beauty away?’ you thought, you wanted to take it home but you hesitated, wouldn’t you look like a hobo if you were to jump in to get it?

You looked in all directions, seeing if anyone was watching, when the coast was clear, you jumped in to get it, trying your best to reach it, without falling in. After a few seconds to a minute or so, you managed to get out scot-free, holding the mirror with both hands, you looked at the distinctive details more closely, it really looked at shiny as gold, you couldn’t tell if it was, you were no genius to know, nor did you have the knowledge to know, all you knew it was dirty from the grime in the dump, it definitely needed a cleaning.

You held the heavy glass carefully, walking down your neighborhood to your home, you put it down gently next to your front door, trying to get your keys to unlock it, when you did, you happily tuck your keys into you pocket, picking up the mirror and walking inside.

The moment you got this mirror, you thought about how it could benefit you, ‘could maybe clean it and then put it on sale at an antique shop or mall?’ you thought, hoping to grab a bit of money to help you probably get something eat for once other than toast and cereal.

You put the mirror in your bathroom tub, getting towels and wipes to carefully remove the dirt from the lined details, sticking your nail covered by the wipe, to chalk the dirt out from deep corners, after a bit, you washed it off carefully with water, holding it gently as to not let it fall and shatter, you turned off the water, grabbing a towel to carefully dry it, not wanting to accidentally scratch the glass somehow.

You took the mirror to your room, holding it with both hands, you sat it down to the ground, making it lean against the wall, you stretched before you took off your work clothes, deciding you wanted to shower after today, I mean, after walking endlessly for two hours at work (not to mention the additional two hours, walking home), and dumpster diving? You definitely could use one. You began collecting comfy clothes to relax in, digging through your drawers, you got just a tee and some shorts and an extra pair of undergarments, you took your clothes, grabbed a towel and left to the bathroom, leaving the mirror alone in the dimly sunlit room.

While you cleaned yourself, unbeknownst to you, the mirror flickered in and out bright yellow auras, the little dust and dusk of yellow floated around the mirror like fireflies, it was glowing at that point, bright yellow, the gold designs that traced around the mirror began to glow as well, and it immediately went out as you entered your room, a towel on your head, you sighed as you jumped into bed, digging out your work clothes that you left on your bed to grab your phone, you tossed your clothes to the side as you laid back down, scrolling through what-not to distract yourself from the loathing pain of loneliness in your life.

From evening to dusk, you blinked lazily, tired of scrolling on social media for hours, you continued to do so until you stopped at a video, a video that was quite a little too relatable. You thought that - that’s when you know it’s time to put the phone down, it’s enough internet for the day, You plugged in your phone, placing it on the night stand.

You shifted under the covers, bringing your pillow to your chest to hold it, hugging it tightly as if it were to ever be your significant other, knowing full well that - that one day, will never come… but it doesn’t hurt to imagine it right?

You hugged the pillow tightly, nuzzling your face in it, looking at the mirror that faced your bed, you laid there silently, feeling the loneliness get to you again, the clock ticking in your room as you waited for sleep to consume you, you closed your eyes, resting your head in the pillow you held, before falling asleep. As you slept, the mirror began to glow again, the same golden aura surrounded it, little small dots of light floating around it again, the light began to glow more, the longer you slept, the small dots of light danced in the air, eventually making it to your bed, the small dots of light gently touched your skin, one even kissed your nose, it made your face scrunch as you scratched it, removing the tickling feeling in your sleep, you then turn the other direction of your bed, faced away from the mirror, the lights backed away from you, like curious little fireflies, they floated around you once again, raining golden dust onto your head as if it were sandman, raining sand onto your head, gifting you the night of pure lofty dreams.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ •✧

You groaned as the morning light from the sun entered the room, waking you up from your dreams, it wasn’t often when you dreamed, usually they’d be nightmares or just plain weird.

You sat up on your bed, rubbing your eyes to wipe the sleep off them, you yawn as you shifted to slide off your bed, walking past the mirror to leave your room, with a quick glance while walking past it, it showed a different person in your reflection, you paused, you stepped back to look again, now puzzled, did you see that right? You look back at the mirror, seeing your reflection perfectly fine, you shook the thought off, thinking it was just you not being fully awake and your eyes were just messing with you, you left your room after that, not thinking anything further about it.

You brushed your teeth, brushed your hair, anything and everything needed to start the day, you grabbed your work clothes and your phone, glancing at the mirror again before taking a photo of it, later deciding to post it on the internet to see if anyone was willing to buy it. You left your house, locking the door, awaiting another repetitive day of your life… wasting away.

You had woke early for a reason, without your car (and the inability to afford an uber, nor risk spending any money), you had to walk to work, it was going to be a long exhausting day but that’s just life, the imbalance of it from what you could see at least.

After a long day of work, the painful exhaustion of walking home, you opened your door, dreadfully, today was worst than the last, you sighed as you went straight to your room, taking your work clothes off and jumping straight to bed, crying.

You curled up in your bed, grabbing your pillow to hold as comfort as you silently sobbed, the sun, slowly fading away from the room, dusking out that the day was nearly gone. You didn’t bother how hungry you felt, you just wanted to cry yourself to sleep, your co-workers were more aggressive today towards you, tripping you and telling you how you don’t seem to put more effort into you job as they do, it even got to the point where they’d report you to the manager, it was only worse when the manager actually believed them! You’d end up being scolded by your boss, not even he tried to listen to your side of the story, making this all the much worse to endure. You wanted to cry at work, you did during all of your lunch break, you spent the whole time crying silently in the restroom, forgetting to get at least something to eat during your time.

You just wished this whole nightmare could be over, you barely had time for your mental health, not to mention the time to do anything else to cope with the repetitiveness of reality either. You cried yourself to sleep that night, not the first of your many rests. It was however, noticed by the mirror you seemed to have forgotten about.

The mirror shimmered softly with light, the same as it did last night, unaware of it’s presence of magic, the light reached your bed, alluring you with comfort as you rested, dots of light danced around your exhausted body, giving you sweet dreams as it did last time, you smiled in your sleep, dreams overflowing in your subconscious as you slept, your body seemed more relaxed when the light tended and touched you, draining the soreness out your body, hoping you’d wake up feeling much better.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ •✧

More often than not, you’d wake up exhilarated and refreshed from the nights before, it bothered you at first but you adjusted to it rather quickly, seeing as you always felt bursted with energy, you could take on the day and go home like you just went through hell to just sleep and wake up feeling alright again. You still haven’t had gotten any responses on anything about the mirror in your room, no one willing to offer for it, it just sat in your room collecting dust, it had been like about a month or so by now, your depressed mind never really bothered with time anymore, seeing as it was pointless, nothing really changes in your life, you don’t even bother with holidays, seeing as there was no one to celebrate with.

After many times and days going through the same thing, you crashed onto the floor in your room, laying next to the mirror. You couldn’t bother getting up into bed this time, everything just felt so tolling, your co-workers were at it again, excusing themselves with how they had families to take care of and you didn’t, they hated how you got paid the same as they did, expecting you to be rich or something by now. You hugged yourself on the floor that night, crying once again, you were facing the direction of the mirror, ignoring it in your vast of self loathing.

You just wished and craved for affection from someone, anyone, just something, anything to stop the pain you felt inside your heart but that would never come, no one cared for you as you hoped that one day they would, you fell asleep on the floor that night, crying yourself to sleep once again, no different than all the other nights that shared the same.

An emitting aura glowed softly again from the mirror, amongst your sleep, brighter than all the times than the last, this time, it didn’t try to comfort you in your sleep, no, this time, it was trying to wake you, wanting you see what it held within itself, the dots of light kissed your face, their bright auras bringing you to wake, you opened your eyes, curious from what the light source was, you sat up from the floor rubbing your eye, “what the..” you say as you blink awake now, you see the mirror glowing with a golden aura, you were bewildered from such a thing being able to happen.

You looked into the mirror before backing away, your reflection making you gasp in shock, you slowly leaned into the mirrors view, looking at your reflection again, it was so different than what you actually looked like, you looked more… demonic? it was creepy, it made your skin crawl, the light that was doting on you, floated around you, catching your attention. You raised your hand out, the little light landing in your hand, you looked and admired its radiance before it flew up and towards the mirror, going straight into it, “wha…” you said rather quietly im confusion and curiosity, the mirror glass sending waves against itself like a water drop landing into water.

You hesitated, you weren’t sure what to do in this situation, when you first got this mirror- you didn’t expect it to be fucking magical!

The mirror calmly whispered a tune, alluring you, you looked at your reflection again, it going from your human self to something else.. You reached your hand out to the mirror, touching the glass but when you did, your hand phased through it, you pulled your hand back in surprise as you watched the mirror glass ripple from movement, you shifted closer to the mirror, the golden light being the only thing that lit up your room in the dead of night.

You put your hand through the glass again, feeling more calm about it, seeing as it was safe, you smiled in fascination, it wasn’t long before someone or something grabbed your hand on the other end, you tried to pull away but it held your writ tightly, you saw a hand hold onto you, covered in black and claws that looked sharp as knives, it pulled you through as your yelp in shock and fear, closing you eyes as you expected to endure some sort of pain coming your way but you didn’t feel any, you felt the warmth of someone’s chest, your hand in theirs, his other on your back, ensuring your safety through the glass.

“Greetings, little duckling.” The man coo’d, you look up to the stranger who caught your fall in confusion, your eyes widened when you realized it was your major comfort character currently, the devil himself: Lucifer. You pushed yourself away from embarrassment, trying to look at your surroundings, seeing as you were in a massive ball room, the tiles on the floor were shining gold as the stairs were cloaked with red, “where am I?” you panic, looking at your body, seeing as your color was different and your body was less humane, “what is happening?” you ask, startled, looking at Lucifer.

He walked closer to you, “hey, it’s okay, you’re safe here, I won’t hurt you,” he reassured as he reached his hand out, patiently waiting for you to take it, you gave yourself a moment to breathe, trying to process everything, you looked at him as he smiled comfortingly at you, waiting patiently for you to take his hand, before long, you took his hand, he leaned toward your hand kissing it gently, a surge of golden light looming from the kiss to around your body. You blinked in surprise and look at your body, clothes had been changed from your work attire to something more extravagant and elegant, you were suddenly wearing a ball gown, you picked up a piece of the fabric of the dress, looking closely at the details it withheld.

“Through that mirror of yours, i’ve been watching you,” he says as he stands up straight again, holding your hand in his, you looked at him, slightly uncomfortable from that statement, his eyes widened at realization as he turned away before scratching his neck, “I mean- I don’t mean in a weird way- like- I was- I just-“ he sighed in defeat, unable to explain his situation correctly, “It’s not what it seems,” he attempts again, looking at you with soft eyes, “it’s just- that mirror is a portal, it’s a portal that only one side could see from, I don’t even have control where it goes but-“ He trails off, “look,” he says, taking both your hands now as you stare at him, patiently waiting for him to fully give you his explanation, “It was something I made long ago,” he attempts again, “I left it on earth for centuries but I still had access to it, from one end I mean.” he pauses as he turns both of you toward the portal, his hand trailing across the glass, changing the location on the other end, you watched with your mouth a-gap, in awe from how surreal this all was.

“I watched many humans through this mirror, good and bad,” he says as he shows many past memories the mirror seemed to hold, “It’s the only thing I have that shows the good in humanity… sometimes.” he says as he cracks a side smile, hoping you aren’t weirded out too much by the whole ordeal.

Letting go of Lucifer’s hand, you lifted both hands to your chest, intertwining your hands together as you walked toward the portal mirror, “so you’re saying..” you spoke as you stared at the glass, “I have a magical mirror in my room?” You ask, turning to him, your dress swaying as you turned, “yeah,” he smiles in relief that you aren’t panicking as he was, “we could go with that.” he says as he walked to you again, “I watched all the nights you cried..” he began as he looked away from your gaze, “I saw how much pain you endured everyday, it was obvious in your eyes and…” he explains to you, his demeanor changing to nervousness as he avoided your gaze, “I tried to make your nights better as you slept, hoping you’d wake up, feeling like your days would be better.” he confesses with a awkward smile on his face as he showed you the golden light in his hands, resembling the same as the light you saw glowing around the mirror in your room.

“So you’re the reason behind why I always felt better in the morning?” You ask, expecting he would confirm your answer, “Yeah.” he admits, rubbing his neck again, you walk up to him, taking his hands in yours as you raised both your hands up together with a smile and a, “thank you.” Lucifer eyes sparkled as he felt a flutter in his stomach, he sort of expected you to panic or something but this was way better, he smiled at you softly, “I saw you crying earlier, worse than ever before,” he says emphatically, he placed of your gloved hands on his shoulder, the other one held with his, his hand was placed gently on your waist as he leaned towards you, “so I thought maybe this time,” he pauses, turning you to a different direction and dipping you gracefully, “I could make your dreams a reality.” he spoke with an ever graceful smile, doting on your beauty.

Your eyes widened in wonderment as he began to move on his own, “wait- I can’t dance-“ you try to exclaim but your feet moved on your own as well, “don’t worry my dove,” he says as he looks at you with that sparkle in his eyes again, “I got you covered on that, just enjoy it, like a dream.” he comforts you, his voice soft and alluring.

He snapped his fingers and you saw a set of ducks with bow ties and orchestrated instruments appearing with them, they sat between the open space of the stairs, “fond of ducks, i see?” you ask, giving him a sided glance with a smile, he rolls his eyes playfully before taking your hands into his again, “not as fond as I am with you tonight,” he says back, smirking playfully as he guides you towards the center of the ballroom, “you’re absolutely stunning tonight.”

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ •✧

(prolly too dramatic but it was making me go insane while writing this (fluff is my kryptonite))

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ •✧

A melody began to play in the background as you let Lucifer take the lead, looking at him in awe, entranced by his charms and his smile.

He spun with you around the ball room, your dress flowing behind every move you done, you looked at your dress in wonderment, you then looked back at Lucifer who was still giving you doe eyes. You had your mouth opened slightly, still processing that this was actually happening… and with Lucifer of all people.

Watching and feeling every shift both your bodies had made, you both move left and right in circles, you yelped softly in surprise when you began to spin, one of his hands still in yours, bringing you back to him to waltz across the massive golden ballroom, you looked at him again as he gave you a toothy grin, making you smile in pure delight from this dream.

It wasn’t long until golden light began to ignite under his feet, each step he took left a trail of golden luminescence, ducks soon flipped up from under ground as if they went under water to collect food to eat, they swam across the ballroom floor as you both stared into each others eyes, lost within the melody.

You looked down at your own feet in amazement, your own steps were leaving a trail of golden light, those golden trails soon grew into buds that blossomed into lotus flowers, the flowers slowly drifted across the floor, gracefully, like they floated above water. You were mesmerized in such beauty of magic, it wasn’t long until you felt a hand trace under your chin, bringing your gaze back to Lucifer, “eyes on me, my darling.” he says with a soft smile, bringing his hand back into yours.

You felt flustered from his gesture as he sprouted out his wings, all in their grace and beauty, you looked away again as you heard him chuckle a light laugh at your reaction, he closed his eyes as he soaked in the moment, spinning you around again before bringing you in, your attention came back to him as he opened his eyes to look at you, you began to feel light, you looked away for the third time, you saw yourself floating in the air with Lucifer, you looked back at him in a little worry but it quickly vanished away as his gaze comforted you, “I got you.” he says, knowing what was running through your mind.

The golden light still trailed after you both, the ducks and lotus flowers floating up with you both in unison, you were so dazed by how pleasant you felt, your eyes locking with Lucifers, you both leaned into each other, your heads touching, closing your eyes as you began to relax and enjoy the moment, everything feeling so perfect.

You both danced in the air in sync, your steps finally moving as your own, adjusted to the dance, he reeled you out, you spinning out before spinning back in, back into his arms, his wings feathers fluttered gently as you danced in circles, in and out, left and right.

You both leaned out, hands locked as you laughed lightly, making him smile even more that you are enjoying your time with him, he brought you in before spinning you once again, back to him again before dipping you gently, ensuring you won’t fall from his grasp, his eyes were in awe as you smiled, your smile is all he wanted to see after seeing you cry so many endless nights.

He drifted you both back down, the golden lit ducks and flowers following you both as you both twirled around, heading towards the mirror, a trail of ducks and flowers blooming from you both, when you reached the mirror, he dipped you again with one hand this time, his other hand caressing your hair, a soft golden glow luminously flowed in your hair before he gently cupped your face, “until next time, mon chérie.” Lucifer says with a smile and loving eyes, kissing your head lovingly before pushing you carefully into the mirror.

You sit up quickly waking up, the sun shining through your curtains into the bedroom, you looked at your hands, your skin color back to normal, your ball gown gone, ‘it was all a dream.’ you thought, only to frown, believing it was too good to be true, you looked at the mirror on the floor, leaning on the wall as it had always been, you looked at it curiously, you threw the covers to the side, shifting out of bed to walk to it, you picked it up, seeing that your reflection was completely normal, however, a golden lotus laid in your hair, confirming that maybe, it wasn’t a dream after all…

You heard a ‘ding’ on your phone, catching your attention, you put the mirror on your bed carefully, grabbing your phone to look at the notification.

- Hey, that’s a beautiful mirror! It looks super old! antique even! How about $1,500 for it?

You smiled at the notification, that was enough for you to pay most of your bills for this month, you left a response before putting your phone back on your nightstand, picking up the mirror and leaving the room.

- Sorry but I decided not to sell it, thank you for your time though. :]

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ •✧

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[kenny-the-ken]

Alone at Last Pt 2

ALL AGED UP CHARACTERS!! You can find the first chapter here!! WARNINGS!!: guns, gore, violence, angst, character death, drugs, gangs, strong language, MINORS DO NOT READ!!!!

It had been four months from you and Kenny had ran off together, ditching South Park and forging a new life with each other.

You were now in California, the weather a stark difference to that of Colorado, especially in the mountains. The weather was hot, the people were hot, and everyone had one shared love.

Drugs. And by god was Kenny in business. He knew a few people feom California that used to ship his supplies to South Park, but now he was on their home soil, he became a personal dealer for their gang. And boy was he slinging drugs.

He had sold that much that you were both able to rent a luxury apartment, feed yourselves and Kenny still had enough money left at the end of the month to hand you his bank card, telling you to treat yourself.

Kenny loved having money, he wasn't used to it, and he spoiled you endlessly, all the things he'd have loved to have done when you both lived in South Park. He'd bring you bouquets, just because, order you food when he was out working, just in case you were hungry, random packages would be delivered, all addressed to you, and Kenny would've ordered you clothes you'd shown him, shoes, luxury handbags and expensive jewellery, he had you spoilt rotten.

There were a few problems though, drug money isn't safe money, in fact it's entirely illegal. And people who are higher up the food chain of a gang than you are can offer you bigger, better jobs, better reward, higher jail time.

Kenny and you ended up on the road quite a lot as the months went on, constantly travelling the world, seeing all these amazing place, and occasionally smuggling some illegal substances in the process, and had thankfully never been caught.

It was only when a major gang war had erupted did shit get real, and it got real fast. Molotov cocktails becoming an average thing to hear about in the news, people being shot, police officers being targeted by multiple gangs, the streets became a scarier place, and you were becoming more and more worried for Kenny's safety, not that he cared.

"Babe, I die all the time! You know this! You've seen me die before! If someone kills me, I don't think I'm gonna even worry about it at this point." Kenny rambled, a blunt hanging from his lips, taking a few long drags before passing it to you, exhaling the smoke out the window of his car. You accepted, taking a long drag yourself, and exhaling with a long sigh. You were on a road trip together, a chance to get away from everything for a while. You were going to a nice place in California, where rich people normally stayed, it would be nice to pretend, if even for a little while.

"Ken, I mean it. This feud is getting out of control! Someone got shot through the head last week!" You exclaimed, taking another drag of the blunt before passing it back to your boyfriend who ashes it out the window before placing it back between his lips.

"Pussies. I've been shot in the head more times than I can count." Kenny snickered, and you pushed his arm, a stern look on your face.

"Well what else am I supposed to do, baby? Slinging drugs doesn't take skill, you've just gotta make sure you don't get caught, it's quick, easy money, babe." Kenny spoke, and you let out a defeated sigh, both of you knew you'd be fucked without Kenny dealing, the only good thing was that if he was killed, at least he'd come back.

And that was when it happened, pulling up at the set of traffic lights, a car pulling up beside you, the window rolling down, and before either of you could react, shots were being fired at both of you, one hitting Kenny right on the temple, and back out the other side.

Your screams could curdle blood, loud shrieks escaping your mouth, staring at your partner, now lifeless, head drooping and eyes dull.

You were covered in what you could only assume was Kenny's brains, your once beautiful clothes covered in blood and pieces of flesh, and you took of your seatbelt, moving to your partner, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cupped his face in your hands.

"K-Ken, Kenny, please god no, Ken?" You spoke, but of course he didn't reply. Even though you knew he would be back, seeing your boyfriend getting his brains blown out was not something you had ever wanted to see, and you were certain you'd be scarred for the rest of your life.

Police were everywhere, taking Kenny's limp, blood stained body from the car, placing him on a stretcher and pulling a clean, white sheet over his body and face, putting him into the ambulance.

You were in a complete trance, as an medic pulled a few shards of broken glass out of your skin, you didn't even realise that you'd been hurt, so focused on what had just unfolded mere minutes ago.

The police brought you home once you'd been patched up, and you entered your empty apartment, the vibe of the place completely shifted. A place that was warm and homey was now cold and dull, you could see Kenny everywhere, his half smoked joint sat in the ashtray, the bowl he'd used for his breakfast still sitting in the sink, his shoes still laying messily beside the front door, and as you entered your bedroom, you barely blinked. The bed lay still unmade, and you stripped from your blood splattered clothes, dumping them outside the bathroom door, and getting into the en-suite shower in your room.

Even the bathroom reminded you of Kenny, his shampoo and conditioner, his body wash, shaving foam and razor, even his toothbrush brought tears to your eyes, as you turned on the scalding water, leaning your head back and sobbing as the water soaked you, a steady stream of red water trickling down the drain.

And you stood there for what felt like forever, until the water ran clear, getting out and wrapping a towel around your body and hair, and once your skin and hair were dry, you opened the wardrobe, pulling out one of Kenny's orange hoodies, and you quickly put it on, breathing in the scent of your dead boyfriend, tears still welling in your bloodshot eyes.

Your head pounded, body ached and wounds stinging as you crawled into bed, wrapping the duvet tightly around you, putting the hood of Kenny's hoodie up over your long h/c hair, and slowly sobbing yourself to sleep, your whole body shaking.

You awoke to the sound of your bedroom door closing, making you sit up in your bed, rubbing your eyes that were nearly glued shut, the tears having dried into your face as you slept.

"Hello? Is someone there?" You spoke, before hearing the soft plop of clothes hitting the carpeted floor. You brought your knees to your chest, too scared to make another sound, until you moved to turn on your bedside lamp, your body jolting quickly from the bed, lunging yourself at the figure you were scared of a few minutes ago.

"Kenny! Oh my god, Kenny. You have no idea how glad I am to see you!" You exclaimed, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck, pressing kisses all over his face, and he returned your hug, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to his bare chest, standing in nothing but his boxers, his clothes laying in a pile.

"I missed you, baby. Are you okay? Are you hurt?" You shook your head no, and Kenny quirked his brow.

"Not even a few cuts and bruises?" He pressed further and you finally spoke, tears running down your already tear stained cheeks.

"A few pieces of glass got stuck in my arm but... I- I was more concerned with your blood and flesh that was all over me, and the fact you were dead." You whispered against his chest, and Kenny ran his fingers through your hair, shushing you as you cried.

"Don't cry baby. I'm here, you're safe baby. We need to get out of California for a while, I don't want anyone trying to target you, I'd never be able to live with myself." Kenny spoke, his voice breaking as the tears began to fall from his own eyes, and you both stayed still, in each others warm embrace for a few moments, before Kenny picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, as he placed you on your side of the bed, climbing in himself.

Kenny pulled you down to cuddle close to his chest, pressing gentle kisses along your face, a small smile on his face.

"Let's get some rest, baby. And then tomorrow we're getting a flight to New York, the gangs moving me, I'm their best asset at the moment, and the fact I'm immortal certainly helped. There's no feuds happening there, so we'll be safe baby. I promise." Kenny spoke and you nodded, leaning up to press a deep kiss on your lovers lips.

"I love you, Kenny. I'm so glad you're back." You whispered, and Kenny smiled, turning the bed side lamp off before he broke the silence.

"I love you too baby, I'm not going away again, I promise."

[missluckycharms]

What is grief, if not love persevering?

Anon asked: heyyy! i love your writing sm💕 can you write angst please? make it hurt☹

Masterlist.

Summary: in which Harry is a single Dad due to losing his wife five years ago just shortly after their little love was born. Y/N has been there through it all. Harry has a rough night filled with whiskey and tears for his late wife.

A/N: this one is full of Angst and light hearted jokes to not get you too sad … sorry in advance, it’s a real tear jerker. Enjoy!!

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, talks of alcohol and drug abuse, talks of depression and very low mental health, curse words.

—

Five years.

It’s been five years since the passing of Myla Styles, the woman who granted Harry a wish he always wanted, the woman who loved him beyond all the galaxies and the woman who never saw any wrong in anyone, not even the worst of people, she always used to say “deep down, their heart is just aching” and Harry always admired that about her, she always looked on the positive side of life.

She held that same attitude as he held her hand in the hospital room, her fragile and pale body laying on the white bed as she peered up at him, oxygen tube in her nostrils and too many machines to count hooked up to her body, she was a shell of a woman, but she still had a heart of gold, the same hear Harry fell in love with when they were sixteen years of age. He hated seeing her this way, especially when their nearly one week old baby was resting in his other arm, fast asleep as her Mum clung to every bit of life she had left, but not once did her smile fade.

It all happened so fast, one day she was pushing life into the world and eight days later her life was being taken out of this world. There was complications with birth, the doctors and nurses finding undiagnosed ovarian cancer in her ovaries when they had to send her in for an emergency c section. Myla confessed she felt off, her body didn’t feel right, but she knew if something was seriously wrong, she wouldn’t risk the life of her baby getting treatment, she would rather her baby live over her. Doctors and nurses tried their best, trying to refer her to new hospitals to get stronger chemo if she wanted, but Myla refused, she told them to let her go, she was tired and she couldn’t stick around long enough to see if these treatments would work — she knew she was dying but Harry refused to believe it.

The day she left, was the day Harry felt like his whole world stopped, like the curtains were shut and he was left in a dark room with no way out. He promised Myla he would do his best to take care of their love, who they named Honey. He was dealing with the loss, Honey taking his mind off it a little and giving him reasons to pull himself from bed even on the days when he wanted to lay around and wallow in his own darkness — she pulled him out of those days, but two months later it all came crashing down on top of him.

He slipped into a wrong mind set, immediately knowing that Honey had to be taken away from him because he was living in fear he would hurt her, one day he woke up and he looked at her and just cried, he held her and he felt nothing, he didn’t even sympathise with her when she would cry for food, he felt nothing towards Honey and this scared him, terribly. Anne, his Mum took Honey in, letting Harry to relax and blow off some steam and get some help, his and Myla’s family all agreeing and saying he needed help and it wasn’t something to be ashamed about — he just lost his wife, they can’t lose him either.

Harry took the wrong route of clearing his mind and getting help, he found his therapy at the end of a bottle and a line of cocaine. He slipped into an endless spiral of week long benders and debts for drug money along with risking losing his home due to him quitting his high up job at his Fathers Law firm, he completely crashed and burned, he couldn’t live without her, he couldn’t stop his mind racing and the only way for it all to stop, and let him feel numb — was when he was drunk and high, passing out in every room of his home and in his garden, the neighbours finding him sometimes in their yard in a mess. They were the ones who got him help, they called up his family and they all rushed him off in an ambulance to get him sober and conscious again. Here is where he made the decision to sign himself into rehab, accepting the help the hospital offered and a few months later, he was out and clean, he stayed with his Mum until Honey turned one and that was the year Harry found his smile again, found his life and purpose again.

Looking back now, he doesn’t know how he ever made himself believe it was Honeys fault Myla was no longer here, he doesn’t know how he’s even alive because of all the drugs and alcohol he ingested every single night for three months solid, but he knows why everything turned around, it was his Angel looking down on him, guiding him and kicking him in the ass to get up and look after their little love, just like she asked him to do before she left, always look after himself and Honey.

It’s been five years since her passing, Harry is doing better than ever, he started working for his Dad’s company again and now he’s the president of the law firm, alongside his Dad who is the CEO, Harry being second in command and then being the CEO when his Dad retires from the firm. They kept their family home, even if it was just the two of them, they loved the home and it still felt like Myla was living here, her makeup still tucked away in her unused vanity in Harrys bedroom and her favourite paintings still hung up around the home. Harry even hired a nanny, she has been working for him for two years now, she’s even working alongside Harry in his office being his receptionist during the day and she’s Honeys afternoon and night nanny when she’s done in work and Honey is home from school.

Y/N is Honeys nanny, she takes care of the little lady and feeds her daily, even taking her to the playground and to the movies when Honey asked her could she go. She would do anything for Honey and Honey loved her endlessly, she loved the way she would allow her to eat sneaky chocolate bars after dinner every now and then and how she would always play dollies with her, kneeling down on the floor of the den and playing with the small girl until they were both in fits of laughter. Harry also adored Y/N, her passion for her job at the law firm along with her passion for looking after Honey is something he admires, she never once complains about being exhausted even though he can tell when she is, she didn’t have to think twice when Harry offered her the job as Honeys nanny, she knew the little one from her being in the office every now and then, and Honey was instantly drawn to her, the way she was so kind and the way she cared for Honey.

Tonight is a hard night for Harry, it’s Myla’s death anniversary and he’s been having a bad day, his mind racing and his heart breaking all over again, but this time he’s stronger, he’s able to power through until he could be alone and just let his emotions go, have a glass of whiskey and just cry a little flipping through old photo albums — he does this every year on her anniversary. Honey is tucked up in bed and he’s sat alone in the den on the sofa, the photo albums on his lap and his hand clutching a small glass of whiskey as he sips on it flipping through many photos from their wedding and from when they were teens and drunk in love in high school — so many memories can be attached to one person, and Harry knew one day they would be memories, but he didn’t know it would be so soon.

“Honey is fast asleep, left her door cracked open so she can shout if she- Harry? Are you okay?” Y/N stops suddenly, her eyes landing on her boss who was hunched over a photo album on the sofa, curtains drawn and the only light coming from a lamp beside a framed wedding photo of him and Myla on the table by the sofa.

“Yeah, thanks for putting her to sleep” Harry says weakly, not turning around which alarms Y/N, she’s seen him like this last year, she let him be as she was only new to it, but this year she’s determined to sit with him all night if he needs — he needs to have some company.

“That’s you?” She asks sitting next to him, Harry not moving or telling her to leave, he accepts her company as she looks down at the photo his eyes are laid upon — two teenagers at a party.

“Yeah, m’hair was a curly mess” he says with a low laugh, looking over the photo of a seventeen year old version of himself, smiling cheekily clutching a red solo cup and Myla wrapped under his other arm holding him around his waist, both their smiles wide and cheeky and their cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol in their bodies.

“I think it looks cute, pitty it’s not as curly now” she says with a light laugh, watching as his ring clad fingers turn the page, taking a sip from his whiskey as he goes.

“This was our prom, she made me wear a pink fucking bow tie — absolutely hated it” he laughs, the crinkles by his eyes evident as Y/N laughs along, looking down at the curly headed teenager in a black suit, white shirt and a bright pink bow tie, matching Myla’s floor length dress next to him, a shawl over her shoulders matching as the corsage around her wrist match the pink of her dress also.

“She hated that dress a year later, she was packing up for college and I was helping her when she found it, immediately burst out laughing” he says laughing loudly, remembering back at the memory he has, Y/N beside him happy at how joyful he sounds speaking of the memories.

“Oh here we go, Frat boy Harry!” Y/N says with a loud laugh, pointing down at a shirtless twenty year old Harry, backwards cap on his head and “Myla’s Bitch!” Wrote on his stomach in paint, two beer bottles in his hands and Myla on his shoulders cheering with her hands up in a red bikini, matching his swimming trunks and baseball cap.

“Some of the best years of m’life, raging parties and no more curfews, we were two hormonal teens absolutely smitten for one another” he says shaking his head with a laugh, his eyes bright as he flicks them over the photos ranging from Harry dancing, Myla being pushed into the pool by him and Harry passed out with a mustache drawn on him with Myla next to him holding the marker with a bright smile mid laughter.

The book is filled with their college days, to their graduation day from college, their photo in their first apartment, Harry on his first day of work and Myla on hers. They took photos of small things, but at the time they meant the world to them, they were milestones in their lives and they never wanted to forget them. Harry is forever grateful that Myla had an obsession with photography, otherwise he wouldn’t have these to look back on and hopefully show Honey one day what her Mum was like, even if she’s drunk and half naked in some of them at college parties.

Harry and Y/N are in fits of laughter, tears falling from their faces as Harry explains every single memory behind each photo, one photo containing a memory of Myla at her bachelorette party, Harry coming out as a stripper and giving her a lap dance as she slaps his ass and throws money all over her husband — that one will definitely not be shown to Honey. Harry is like a whole different person when he speaks about her, his laugh becomes louder and his eyes become brighter, he even ditched his whiskey after one glass to speak about his late wife, Y/N looking at him with pure amazement and proudness of how far he’s come, how he pulled himself from a hard time and carried on life for the sake of his baby girl. He’s truly inspirational in her eyes.

“It should be easier than this by now, right? Like I shouldn’t be still grieving” he says when their laughs and stories come to a stop, their eyes hooded with sleep and faces hurting from laughing.

“What is grief, if not love persevering? You were both childhood sweethearts, you’ve loved her since you can remember and you always will, she’s your whole world, of course you’ll still grieve her, you still love her, and that’s okay” Y/N blurts out, her words quick as she blabs on while Harry watches her, a smile on his face as she explains and accepts his feelings.

“Never knew you were Shakespeare” is all he says, she rolls her eyes laughing, slapping his bicep a little as he shuts the album, tucking it away in the drawer again before turning his focus back onto Y/N beside him.

“Seriously though, never tell yourself you’ve been grieving for too long, it’s okay to grieve and cry yourself to sleep some nights, I get that, I do. You lost a person who made you who you are, but don’t forget, you still have a little one that will need you to be the person who makes her who she is”

Harry thinks she’s amazing, she’s smart and she’s so empathetic towards everyone and anyone. She has a heart of gold and she will never let anyone explain hers or anyone else’s feelings for them, she always allows people to express who they are, heck, one night she brought Harry to a gym after hours, explaining how her brother is a trainer there and he gave her the keys on the condition that she does his laundry for a month, she let Harry rage out and punch the shit out of a punching bag one night because he was so upset. She cheered him on and he was smiling as he was punching towards the end, she helped him release the emotions that built up and would of lead him back down a dark path.

She’s been an Angel sent from above, he knows Myla sent her to him because of how much they’re alike, Harry knows for sure they were sisters in a past life, their kind hearts and understanding natures alike but they have their differences, Myla was very out spoken and loved to party but Y/N is reserved and would rather stay inside with a hot chocolate and her crosswords while watching TV, but that’s another thing that Harry finds fascinating about her, she’s younger than him by eight years, when he was her age he was partying.

“Thank you Y/N, I needed this tonight” he says with a smile, her own smile on her face as she nods leaning over to rub her hand over his in a comforting manner, the pair looking at one another as they soak in their presences.

“It’s getting late, I should go” she says realising it’s nearly midnight, Harry and her need to be in work tomorrow morning and Harry has to wake up to get his little lady ready for school also. He gets a bit saddened when she says this, he secretly wants to hear more of her own college years and her own prom much like he told her earlier.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow” he says with a smile, watching as she gathers up her bag and throws it over her shoulder, car keys now in her hand as she smiles at him once more before heading for the den door. She pauses and looks back at him, his eyes meeting hers as they hold contact for a few seconds before she speaks up.

“See you tomorrow, Harry”

[skittleghosts]

Helloooo I really really really really loved your luffy SM AU and I was wondering if I could ask one for shanks with ( writing for soulmate ) and I am sucker for angst can it be angst but with a happy ending , like f reader thinks she isnt good enough for shanks so she decides she wouldn't meet him but both end up falling in love through messaging and then they meet one day by accident and-...... I should stop here 😂😂

Thank you so much of u made it 💕💕💕

Also is it ok if I request again cause I love SM AUs so much and i cant find alot of them and i have so many ideas ?

Oh hun you don’t understand how much this made my night hehehe thank you so much for enjoying it, I was really insecure about uploading it (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`). I’m a sucker for angst so I’ll try to absolutely destroy your heart right now with a passion (●’◡’●)ﾉ

And YES, of course you can request again there’s no restriction on how many times you can request hun, the more you do the more I’ll be happy to write for you( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ 

TW: self hate.

WC: 1711

ANGST

PART 2

Shanks x reader

You're in love and a crowd. That sums up the kind of person you are.

As a kid you lived a quiet life with your aunt at the outskirts of town. Your aunt was known as the town ghost simply because she’s a mute and didn’t have any friends or family expect for you to call her own.

Growing up, the house was always quiet. You did homeschooling instead of going to the local school because of the severe verbal and physical bullying you went through at your first year of elementary school. Your aunt noticed quickly and took you out and taught you herself not wishing for you to go through life the same steps as her.

However there was still some lasting affects from all the name calling from both the teachers and students and the fear of being touched again since the boys would kick you and the girls will tear your hair and clothes apart singing that's what you get for living with the ghost.

You didn’t understand why is everyone so hateful towards your aunt, when she has never even hurt a fly but you didn't think too much into it, ignoring them and just happy to be out from that nightmare.

Not having friends wasn't a problem since you learned quick how ruthless people can be, your aunt is all you needed, even if she was mostly at the beach staring endlessly at the sea awaiting for something to happen or someone to come. You still secretly wondered what's her tale.

When she's at home she would cook up the meals for the day and feed you than spent some time teaching you how to read and write, it was difficult at the beginning since she's a mute but everything went by smoothly once you got the hang of it. Once you're done with your studies she would then hand you a book to kill some time. It wasn’t much to some people however for you that’s home and it’s comfortable.

Later as years went by with the same routine, your aunt fell sick. It wasn’t serious at first but soon later she was bedridden. The town’s doctors refused to see her even when you and your aunt had enough money for emergencies, they kept repeating how this is what she deserved and it’s about time she become a real ghost.

It absolutely devastated your heart at the age of 15 not seeing how can someone still stay cruel to a dying woman. You then decided to pick up medical books, willing to learn how to cure your aunt. Hours and hours spent on learning, taking care of her and making medicine yourself for her.

Things started to get better, your aunt never looked more healthy. She even started eating more solid food without puking. You felt like all your hard work has finally payed off, she’ll soon be able to start walking again. You smiled at the thought.

Later that night you cried while you lay in bed grateful the worse didn’t come to pass.

Sniffing and wiping away your tears, you felt your arm’s tingle. Looking down at it, you saw something getting written. At first you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you, using tears to make you see unusual illusions, however once you saw what’s written you freaked out.

“Are you there?”

You scratched your left arm trying to get rid of whatever this is, completely not understanding what’s happening to you. Was it actual ghosts communicating with you? Countless of thoughts horrific than the last one crawled into your mind like bugs.

Seeing as the scratching did not work and all it left was a bloodied arm you hurried over to your aunt’s room just across the hall from yours. “Aunt Han! Aunt Han!” You know disturbing her sleep was rude especially to a women that’s still trying to recover, yet you couldn’t stop panicking.

Tears streamed down your face as you rushed towards your aunt. She woke up with a start, hearing you yell in the middle of the night came the worse to mind and it’s an intruder in the house.

It was proven that wasn’t the case when she saw you shoving your arm to her face. “Look! I don’t know what’s happening to me!” You cried out, hoping that whatever it was it wasn’t something deadly. You can’t die now when you are so close at saving your aunt.

Once your aunt has realized what’s happening fear flashed her eyes but she quickly neutralized her face.

Moving her hand to signal she said. “Don’t ever answer back.” You looked at her confused. That’s not the answer you were looking for and it just made you curious as to why she would say that to you. “Am I gonna die if I do?” You asked.

“No.” She signed. You wanted more answers but there’s an unspoken rule in this house. You don’t question everything she does and say, you just listen because that’s what’s best for you. You nodded your head, letting go of the matter.

After that night your aunt has turned cold.

She would constantly get anger at you for the simplest thing such as not putting enough salt in her soup even if there was enough of it. Throwing anything you gave her like gifts, blankets, plates on the floor. Throwing a tantrum every time you entered the room.

Cursing at you through sign language and calling you all types of heinous words that cut deep into your heart, bringing back that little girl in first grade.

You pushed pass her aggressive attitude to try and still cure her but with all that’s been happening your aunt is putting stress onto her body by all the screaming so she keeps getting worse by the day.

You didn’t understand why this was happening but you know for sure that it all started after you showed her your arm. So you kept it covered, afraid that it will trigger something more from your aunt.

Even when you felt the familiar tingling everyday on your arm. You kept repeating what your aunt said. ‘Don’t ever answer back.’ So you ignored it.

After 4 years of verbal abuse. Your aunt passes away. It happened during a bath you were giving her, you noticed how quiet she'd been and when you looked up it hit you that her time came. The emotions going through you that day was unexpected. You felt sad, relieved, and angry.

Angry at what? You weren’t sure it was a first for you but you knew you were so angry it overpowered your grief for losing your only family.

A year later you decided to finally unwrap your clothe around your arm. It was empty. Nothing new written today on your arms.

You went to the towns bookshop to get a book that could explain what's happening to your arm. On your way there, nothing changed, the town people still treated you like dirt. Because of this you started feeling disgusted by yourself.

You didn't like how people looked at you it was disgusting. You didn't like how they talked to you it was disgusting. How they tried to touch you or pass by you it was disgusting. Everything felt gross, you felt gross about your own skin.

Walking down the streets you heard the usual insults people throw at you and the looks they glare your way.

Nothing new.

Once you reached the bookshop there was a new worker that day. She was the first person to ever be nice to you, so you tried your luck and asked her if she knew anything about the writing on your arm.

She looked shocked, “You don’t know about soulmates?” Confused you told her no you never heard of that term before. She explained it briefly to you on how people around the world are born with soulmates and they communicate with each other through writing anywhere around their body.

You were astonished.

Such a blissful thing exist and you didn’t know about it.

No.

Your aunt didn’t want you to know.

You went home with two books that further explains the concept of soulmates. Before starting on the books, you went to shower, aggressively scrubbing your skin to the point where it's so sensitive to touch. You then washed your hair with the same roughness causing hair loss.

After dressing up neatly for bed, you took one of the books and started reading late at night with only a single candle lighting up. You felt the same tingling sensation on your arms.

You immediately lifted your arm up to see what’s written there.

‘We’re having another bonfire party tonight, got tons of drinks and lots of meat :)’

A party? You thought. You’ve never been to one since no one bothered to invite you but your so called soulmate seems to be going to ones a lot since it was his second party.

You took your pen from your stand and wrote back on your arm. ‘That sounds lovely.'

You expected an immediate response but nothing came in. Confused, you wondered if how you did it was wrong.

Then there it is, another writing appearing. ‘So you finally answered.' Somehow that statement got you blushing in embarrassment. ‘Sorry’ you replied truly guilty for not answering back all those years and also for answering when your aunt has told you not to.

You two spent the night getting to know one another. You learned his name which is shanks and how he’s a captain of the Red Hair pirates. Knowing he’s a pirate send a thrilling chill through your whole body making you feel for the first time an unknown emotion.

Years pass and now you're a 25 year old woman.

You still refuse to meet shanks even when he kept asking about your island or suggest a meet up you always changed the topic to something completely unrelated.

Meeting Shanks is not a good idea. You are sure if he knew who you are in real life he wouldn't want to be called your fated, he'll be disgusted just like everyone else.

So now you are wondering how the hell did he find you.

(Don’t get mad at me🧍🏾‍♀️I promise there’s a part 2, I wanted to write more about shanks meeting you and thought another part would be much better, hope you don’t mind (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ )

[robininthelabyrinth]

"The Untamed", but Jiggy has a white cat whom he tells everything.- May or may not be sentient or 'spiritual' like Fairy in the book. (From an idea I've thrown around with my friend @yraelviii)

ao3

He found the cat in Qinghe.

“What are you doing here?” Meng Yao said, crouching down to try to scoop out the little handful of white fluff underneath his cabinet only for it to bare its infantile fangs and him and hiss, moving its butt around as if it thought his fingers ought to be running in fear from its fearsome pounce. “How did you even get in here?”

The cat – a kitten, really, small and scrawny, dirty and covered in ashes as if it had just run out of a forge, but no less passionate for it – squirmed in his hand as he picked it up.

“Who owns you?” Meng Yao asked, and the cat hissed viciously as if to shout no one owns me!

Something about that echoed in Meng Yao’s heart – no one owns me, he thought – and so he fished up some extra meat from his plate, filled a small platter with water, and used the sleeve of an old outfit that needed to be taken to be laundered anyway to wipe the grey ash off of the cat’s white fur while it was distracted by sniffing suspiciously at the food and water that it ultimately declined to consume.

“Just this once,” he told it.

-

Doing good work will often only bring you more work, Meng Yao reflected, and so it was with the cat as much as with anything else. He still didn’t know how the cat managed to get into his rooms, and he sometimes dwelled on paranoid suspicions that there were hiding-holes in his chambers designed to allow others to spy on him, just as there had been in certain rooms in the brothel – though even at his worst moment of uncertainty and doubt he didn’t really think so. He knew that it wasn’t Nie Mingjue’s style even if Meng Yao had been someone important enough to care about, and anyway he didn’t question his own ability to discovery such a thing if it had really existed. He’d checked.

At any rate, however it kept getting into his rooms, the cat was now a regular presence there, lurking around.

It didn’t want to be petted and greeted all attempts to feed it with utter disdain, but despite its general standoffishness it seemed to like being in the same vicinity as Meng Yao, enjoying nothing more than to settle haughtily by the window in his room and watch over Meng Yao as if it thought he might get lost without its supervision.

Meng Yao thought it was probably someone’s pet gotten lost, or maybe even just a feral cat from outside (Qinghe had a fair number of them) that had figured out that it could access the good life by going inside, but it was very hard to sincerely worry over the ill-intentions of a cat, and he was already very busy.

If he didn’t need to care for it, then it wasn’t adding to his troubles. Let the cat sit where it liked!

Meng Yao had found that life in Qinghe was both different and similar to life in Yunping, the only life he had to compare it to, and it amused him to think of the great and righteous Nie sect as an overly large brothel, with the main difference being that they sold their strength where women sold their bodies. In both places there needed to be order, someone to sort things out and tell people where to put things and what to do; in both places Meng Yao, with his quick mind and excellent memory, his sense of understanding people and anticipating their needs, was utterly invaluable in arranging such things.

He had, admittedly, expected it to take a little more time to climb up to the top – the only person he couldn’t understand in this place was Nie Mingjue, who was far too easy to deceive and smiled at him like he really thought they were friends instead of just being master and servant, who appreciated his talents and told him so, who shrugged off his mistakes and had faith that he would do better, who ignored his status instead of lording it over him the way Meng Yao had expected him to. Even when he was angry, when he shouted and slammed his hands against things, Nie Mingjue never once mentioned Meng Yao’s background, and the only things he seemed to hold against him were his own mistakes.

Meng Yao still didn’t know why Nie Mingjue would act so rashly as to promote someone he had just met to a position as high as viceroy, much less actually trust him, but it didn’t really matter. However quixotic his method of reaching a place of power, he was here and his next task was to keep his place until he’d made a reputation for himself.

Part of that he did through his work, good critical work that people needed and which had always won him gratitude even if not respect, but the other part of it was in cultivation. That was the way in which the Nie sect was not like a brothel: you couldn’t just be clever, you couldn’t even just be beautiful - to be respected, you had to cultivate.

Not that wanting to cultivate was a problem for Meng Yao.

He’d always had a memory like a sponge and a body that obeyed his every wish, his childhood of mimicking the beautiful dances of his mother and her ‘sisters’ serving him well in transitioning to learning the sword even if he was years behind everyone else; his mother had bought a thousand fake cultivation manuals for him and he’d learned them all, each one of them more useless than the next, and now that he was here in the cultivation world at long last, he was finally, finally, finally able to cultivate for real.

Using Nie sect methods, of course, even if that wasn’t what he really wanted.  

He’d started as soon as he could when he arrived, endlessly grateful that the Nie sect provided training sabers without cost, and he’d snuck one away back to his room so that he could practice on his own time, knowing it would take a long time to form his golden core. He’d debated with himself for a long time as to whether or not it was worth it to invest in a real one – if the training sabers were free, then real proper Nie sabers were somehow three times as expensive as the swords you could buy in the marketplace, and you could only put in a deposit without any notion of when you’d actually get the saber, apparently subject to the contrary dispositions of the spiritual weaponsmiths that made them.

In the end he decided to go for it more or less on a whim, emptying out his hard-built savings to place the order, even though he knew he would one day need to discard whatever they made for him in favor of a sword.

The Jin sect would accept him one day. He would make them.

(If the Nie sect cultivation style was good for one thing, he thought as he went through endless drills of slashing and thrusting, it was that you could work out your anger while you were doing it. There was nothing quite like imagining the face of someone you hated and then bringing down the practice saber in a vicious slash, and oh, but Meng Yao hated so very many people.)

The cat liked watching him train most of all, although Meng Yao suspected it was because seeing him jump around panting was funnier than watching him sit at his desk and gracefully write out letters. It would occasionally start purring, a sound a little like a crackling fire, and eventually Meng Yao got into the habit of going to run his fingers through its fur as a reward for himself when he successfully completed a training sequence.

After a while, he started talking to it, too.

“That commander,” Meng Yao said as he brought the training saber down. His real saber was still on the order, probably stalled purposefully; the smith assigned the task was probably one of the people that thought they were too good to deal with him because of who his mother was, and it’d all been a waste of money in the end. Completely a waste, even if Nie Mingjue had smiled so happily at him when he’d heard about Meng Yao placing the order, his eyes warm and soft and how had that man survived so long in this wretched world of politics and pain, didn’t he know he would always be deceived and betrayed?

Why should he be the exception to the rule, when everyone else had to suffer?

Meng Yao threw away the unhelpful thoughts and thrust the saber forward, as if piercing his invisible opponent straight through the chest.

“That commander.” He minutely corrected his form and stabbed again, this time as if piercing through the belly: a gut wound, a slow and awful way to die. “He’ll regret what he said to me.”

The cat’s purring intensified.

Meng Yao briefly had the wild thought that it approved.

“I just –” Another thrust. “– need to figure out –” An overhead slash. “– how.”

-

Meng Yao ended up taking the cat with him when he left Qinghe.

It probably was someone’s pet and he was opening himself up to a charge of stealing, a charge he wouldn’t be able to defend himself against now that he no longer had Nie Mingjue’s protection –

(Nie Mingjue who had wept tears and blood at what Meng Yao had done, betrayed at last after having finally encountered a deception he could not swallow, who had banished him from the Unclean Realm even after everything Meng Yao had done for him – who had, despite it all, still hidden an entire bag of gold and Meng Yao’s favorite Qinghe snacks in Meng Yao’s things with a short note claiming that it was for unpaid wages. As if Meng Yao had ever let a single pay period go by without claiming exactly what he was due. As if Nie Mingjue still cared despite throwing him out, as if he worried about how Meng Yao might live, as if he hadn’t given up the privilege of caring about things like that – )

He didn’t really care.

He wanted the cat, so he took it. It was the least Qinghe could do for him.

The cat spent all its time in his new rooms in the hotels he stayed out as he traveled: in his bedroom and study, the little gardens that, when available, he liked to use to train in the mornings and evenings. It would even follow him when he took a bath (although that was with great reluctance on the part of the cat, and only if Meng Yao were taking an especially long time in the bath and the cat was worried he’d drowned, yowling angrily as if it could revive him through the power of its voice). If it had once belonged to someone else, it now belonged to Meng Yao, and Meng Yao didn’t give away anything that was his.

“I’ve made worse mistakes,” he said defiantly to the cat, which blinked at him from its side of the carriage he’d used some of the gold to rent. “It’s only that I don’t want to review them in order to think of which ones those might be.”

The cat got up, stretched its back, and walked over to butt its head against Meng Yao’s hand before turning and going back to its spot by the window.

Meng Yao wasn’t sure if that was a sign of agreement or if the cat just thought there was a treat in his hand. Not that the cat had ever accepted treats from his hand.

He still wasn’t sure what the cat ate, actually, but he was sure the cat would make its feelings known now that they weren’t somewhere with a dependable kitchen, though he supposed there was always the possibility that it would start picking up hunting.

“Wen Chao said that they’d aimed at the Cloud Recesses,” Meng Yao said, deciding not to dwell on the things of the past. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he could do about Nie Mingjue’s betrayed eyes or the snacks he hadn’t even known Nie Mingjue had known he’d liked, about the hand-me-down guans and trinkets that Nie Huaisang had insisted were part of his wardrobe when he’d helped him pack even though he knew Nie Huaisang still wore them sometimes, about the fact that he should have been ordered to take the Nie sect’s braids out of his hair when he passed by the gates for the final time since he didn’t deserve them anymore but the two disciples there had just nodded at him and let him pass without a word – nothing to do about the saber he’d ordered, still on the list to be made, and maybe if he made something of himself out in the world alone he would one day come back to claim it at last. “That’s where we’re going now. Lan Xichen might be in danger. I have to help him.”

The cat made a sound like it was considering hacking up a hairball.

“He was kind to me,” Meng Yao said, feeling defensive. “The only one who never judged me –”

Since he’d decided to forget about Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang, wiping it out of his mind as if it had never been, that was even true.

“– and he’s a proper gentleman, a good man. I’ll help him.”

That Lan Xichen was also a powerful man was something he wished he didn’t think of, but he couldn’t help the way he was.

“After I help him, I’ll figure out what to do next,” Meng Yao said, like a liar, and the cat looked at him like he was stupid – which he was being, because of course he’d already planned out what to do next, figured out his next move, and there was no point in lying to a cat about it. Meng Yao had skills that were only useful in management, not labor, and the only thing he left to sell was information about the sect from which he’d just been ejected. “No one owns me, right? Let it be the Wen sect.”

The cat did not purr, but it didn’t condemn him, either.

That would have to do.

-

It was a good thing that Meng Yao’s cat was self-sufficient, he thought, because he had neither the time nor the stomach to feed it during his time at the Wen sect.

If he had thought he had worked hard at the Nie sect, he now knew differently: at least there the worst he had faced from his colleagues had been disdain and not outright murder attempts, back-stabbing and undercutting to try to show off to Wen Ruohan, and all the while the man himself demanded more and more from him without the slightest care for his own well-being. He was grist to the mill for Wen Ruohan, no matter how much the Chief Cultivator enjoyed having another man’s prized deputy as his own – Wen Ruohan might had been very nearly driven insane by the Yin Metal, but he still remembered old grudges – and it was night and day away from Nie Mingjue’s reliance on him that was based on trust, rather than reluctantly satisfied suspicion and paranoia.

Meng Yao had hidden the cat as best as he could from the start, thinking rightfully that people would try to use it against him, and to his relief it seemed that no one else had yet laid eyes on it and identified it as his own, despite its white fur standing out like a beacon to his sight. Unfortunately there were some people that had managed to figure out that he had a cat, even if they didn’t lay eyes on it themselves, and he’d had more than a few incidents in which someone had left poisoned meat out on the floor by his room in order to catch it.

The cat seemed as unimpressed with that as anything else.

Instead, the cat seemed to have taken up hunting as its pastime. It brought back the corpses of small birds, the Yin Metal-infused little spies, full of resentful energy, that Wen Ruohan had developed for his sons to use. At first Meng Yao worried about the cat getting somehow poisoned by them, but time went on and it seemed to be fine, even thriving. It had grown into a proper cat now, no longer a kitten, and it enjoyed licking its white and shining fur until it was gleaming.

It didn’t like Meng Yao’s training sessions as much – he trained with a sword now, two-faced just like him, and in a dozen different styles, Wen and Jiang and Jin, always Jin – so sometimes Meng Yao would go back to doing the old Nie sect style again, knowing the cat would recognize the familiar movements, and it was a surefire way to get the cat to purr.

The Nie sect style was also still the best for getting out anger, all aggression and sharp movements, and Meng Yao still had a lot of anger inside of him. He was starting to think he always would.

At least here in the Nightless City he could kill the people he hated, as long as he did so in low and dirty ways that didn’t trouble Wen Ruohan or interfere with his plans, and yet every time he did it, he felt no relief, only a vile and wretched stickiness that came, perhaps, from that awful Yin Metal that he had schemed over yet couldn’t seem to escape.

The cat didn’t like the Yin Metal one bit. It hissed and scratched, and in one notable incident seemed like it was going to pounce on it directly if Meng Yao hadn’t caught it mid-leap and shoved it into his sleeve before anyone had noticed it.

“You’re going to get me into trouble,” Meng Yao told the cat next time he trained, using the soft sword he’d hidden away for a time of need to hack and slash in the Nie way, which didn’t work with a soft sword at all but which made him feel strangely better. He was currently imagining Wen Ruohan’s head underneath a saber, his head and the heads of all those corpse puppets he’d created. “I will cut you loose if you do that.”

The cat rolled onto its back and showed its soft and fluffy belly, which only the truly unwise would seek to lay a hand on – Meng Yao still had scars – and Meng Yao rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know,” he said. “No one owns you, not even me. But do me a favor and don’t screw this up for me. Not when I’m so close.”

Lan Xichen had been accepting his letters and feeding them to Nie Mingjue, who trusted as blindly as he ever did. Meng Yao wished sometimes that he didn’t, that he would learn, that he would put some defenses up on that stupid reckless heart of his, but on the other hand it suited his plans very well that he didn’t.

Soon, he thought. Soon.

Soon he’d know what he needed to do.

-

“Now he chooses not to trust people,” Meng Yao complained to his cat. “Now. Now!”

The cat purred.

It wasn’t that Meng Yao (damnit, Jin Guangyao, he had a new name, he was Jin Guangyao now) couldn’t understand Nie Mingjue’s reluctance to trust him – fool me once, fool me twice, but three times seemed to be the other man’s breaking point – and in some ways he understood it more than ever now that he had been accepted back by the Jin sect, clothed in the gold he’d always deserved to wear.

Jin Guangshan hadn’t lost much in the war, not like the other sects, and the second it was over he was already scheming. Meng Yao – Jin Guangyao – was pulled right into the thick of it at once, less for his spying capability than for his sheer disposability, the fact that Jin Guangshan wasn’t willing to burden his pure and righteous heir with black matters that he was more than happy to taint the son of his whore with. With Nie Mingjue, general and hero of the Sunshot Campaign, representing the only real threat to the Jin sect’s domination, even if he didn’t want to be, Jin Guangyao was bound to be in opposition to him.

It made sense for Nie Mingjue not to trust him.

It irritated him regardless.

Still, lack of trust or no, Nie Mingjue had succumbed to Lan Xichen’s impassioned arguments and had agreed to swear brotherhood with him, even if Jin Guangyao suspected that Nie Mingjue’s primary motivation was to keep a better eye on him and scold him the way he did Nie Huaisang. It would be politically beneficial to Jin Guangyao to be tied in such a way to Nie Mingjue – it would suit his own desires as well, though that was less important – and so he had of course agreed as well, and he was planning on going to their oath ceremony in the outfit he had chosen for himself, gold from neck to foot, a sword he’d taken from the treasury since no one would order him one of his own, and a hat on his head like the ones his mother so admired to make up for his lack of height and to hide the Nie sect braids he still habitually wore underneath.

An old habit, and one he really ought to break, really. Ideally before Nie Mingjue figured it out and told him to cut it out.

There was a knock on the door, a familiar pounding, and the cat looked up, intrigued, even as Jin Guangyao sighed voicelessly to himself. Perhaps he had waited too long.

Perhaps it would be better to make a clean cut in this way, too.

He opened the door.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he greeted, thinking to himself that it would only be a few more hours before he was entitled to call the man da-ge as if they were nearly equals and how strange that would be. “Can this humble one help you?”

“Can I come in?” Nie Mingjue asked gruffly, his eyes lingering on Jin Guangyao’s uncovered and Nie-braided hair, just as he might have expected. Had expected.

Jin Guangyao nodded and stepped back, allowing him in, and closed the door behind him. “Could I get the sect leader some refreshments?” he asked politely, but Nie Mingjue seemed to have come to a stop right in the entranceway, surprise written all over his features. “Sect Leader Nie?”

Nie Mingjue was staring at Jin Guangyao’s cat.

“…Sect Leader Nie?”

Did Nie Mingjue not like cats? There were an endless number of feral cats in Qinghe, so it seemed implausible, and yet, here Nie Mingjue was, looking at the cat like he’d never seen such a thing before in its life.

Of course, at that exact moment, Jin Guangyao’s cat, the traitor, hopped off its pillow and went straight to rub itself against Nie Mingjue’s leg, purring like a little maniac.

Jin Guangyao stared at it, feeling thoroughly betrayed by what he would have previously said was his thoroughly unsociable cat, who had taken years to warm up to him enough to give him half the attention it was now bestowing freely on Nie Mingjue. Was this the heavens deciding to mock him for his earlier betrayals?

Alternatively, Nie Mingjue might just be very good with cats, which Jin Guangyao could believe. Perhaps he even carried in his pockets some of the Qinghe vine that cats were said to be so enamored of, although certainly Meng Yao’s cat had never once before shown an interest in such things before.

“…what’s its name?” Nie Mingjue croaked, voice hoarse. He was still staring fixedly at the cat, looking as though his entire world had shattered around him. He hadn’t even looked so unsettled when Jin Guangyao had so viciously mocked him at the Nightless City, and at the time he’d thought he was going to die and be turned into a corpse puppet to murder all his loved ones.

Jin Guangyao was tempted to say something rude or facetious, something like ‘I just call it Cat, why, do you name random cats?’, but the cat had been a good companion of his for a long time now and he couldn’t do that to it, even if he was currently planning on taking an extra long bath to force the cat to miserably linger by the door to the bathing room, screeching in unhappiness at the wet, but bravely (if grumpily) supervising him to make sure he didn’t drown.

“Hensheng,” he said, because that was in fact what he’d named it – it meant hatred for life, which was not exactly an auspicious name but which had stuck from the very moment he had thought it up – and waited to hear Nie Mingjue’s judgment. “It’s not normally quite so sticky,” he added in an attempt to save some face. “With most people.”

“Well, it’s me, that’s different,” Nie Mingjue said, and maybe the man really was just the human incarnation of the plant cats liked so much. Meng Yao really wouldn’t put it past him. “You...you cultivate in the Nie sect style? Still?”

Jin Guangyao blinked, surprised by the change in subject.

“Yes,” he said, a little hesitantly. He cultivated many styles now, although it was always the Jin sect style when he was in public. But he still had all the anger in his belly to vent – even more so now than before, anger at his father, anger at Madame Jin, anger at his brother born to a blessed life, anger at all those disciples that sneered at him even after he’d been legitimized, anger, anger, anger – and the Nie sect style had always been the best for that.

And anyway, it made the cat purr.

“Is that a problem, Sect Leader Nie?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Nie Mingjue said, and when he turned to look at him his eyes were warm and soft the way they’d been all the way before the fiasco with Xue Yang, shimmering with tears of joy and a smile that seemed to come straight from his heart, the foolish easily deceived man. It was so unexpected that Jin Guangyao actually took a full two steps back, his jaw dropping a little. “I’m happy for you. Very happy.”

He actually wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, dashing away the tears.

“You should come back to the Unclean Realm to pick it up when the brotherhood ceremony is done,” he added nonsensically. “I can’t imagine how long it’s been waiting for you.”

“…what?” Jin Guangyao said. “Pick up what?”

“Hensheng,” Nie Mingjue said, which – what? “Your saber. Hensheng.”

His saber?

The saber he’d never gotten, having been banished from the Unclean Realm before the order was finished, the one he’d spent all his savings on just in putting in the deposit, the one he’d never actually finished paying off? He remembered it, of course, and sometimes it still itched under his skin that he’d never gotten what he was owed because everything that was owed to him he deserved to get in the end. But…

“Hensheng is my cat,” he said.

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “That’s not a cat,” he said. “That’s a saber spirit.”

Jin Guangyao’s gaze dropped down to the cat.

The cat that never seemed to eat anything or drink anything, that never once fell for the poisoned meat or accepted his offers of treats, that no one in the Nightless City had ever seen with their own eyes; the cat that could consistently get into his rooms despite there being no holes for it to enter, as if it had simply passed through the walls like a ghost.

Like a spirit.

The cat, which purred whenever Jin Guangyao practiced the Nie sect forms, swinging a saber with rage in his heart.

The cat to which he had confessed all his anger, all his frustration, all his rage, all the feelings he never gave to any human being around him – the sabers of the Nie sect thrived on such emotions, those feelings that encouraged them and strengthened them, developing the saber spirits that made each one of them a spiritual weapon unlike any other, with power and rage infused into the very blade.

Saber spirits, which only those born into the Nie sect or adopted early, raised in their ways, one of them, could form.

“A saber spirit?” Jin Guangyao said weakly, and his knees suddenly didn’t seem strong enough to hold him; he swayed and Nie Mingjue stepped forward quickly, catching him by the shoulders to steady him. “I cultivated a saber spirit?”

“The saber is back in the Unclean Realm,” Nie Mingjue said, not without kindness. “It was only ever waiting for you to pick it up once you developed the spirit, so that you could introduce the two.”

“It hasn’t been – I would have thought it would have been thrown away, or repurposed –”

“It’s a Nie saber, Meng Yao. It won’t obey anyone else ever again, not in this life; it is yours, yours alone. When one day you die, it will be buried with honor in our saber halls, just like all the others.”

The cat looked up at him and purred.

No one owns me, Jin Guangyao thought – the first thing the cat had said to him, and he’d always had a good understanding of what the cat wanted from the very first. No one had owned that wild spirit then, but it had stayed by his side, at first from curiosity and later from habit, and it was his now.

His, and no one else’s.

“Will you come pick it up?” Nie Mingjue asked, hope in his eyes. “Will you come home, if only for a little while?”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said. “Yes, I will.”

-

Later, Jin Guangshan told his son to kill Nie Mingjue, that fool who trusted too much and didn’t know when he was being deceived, finding him in his rigidity and righteousness too much of a burden on the power he planned to wield.

Jin Guangyao bowed as deep as he could, a smile on his lips, saying nothing, and the next day, when Jin Guangshan went to the brothel as he always did, drinking tea served by his son the way he always did, he never did figure out why his heart had stopped.

(The saber Jin Guangyao began to wear openly after the funeral – a gift from his sworn brother, he said with a smile, in remembrance of his time at the Nie sect – purred in pure satisfaction.)

[sharkbait77]

The Sun Sets With You

Chapter One: The Season Begins

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Despondency, depressive undertones, death of a parent, grief, unsolicited advances, age old sexism, strained parent relationship, nosy neighbors, food, lmk if I missed any pls!

W/C: 3.2k

A/N: And here we go! The first chapter! Welcome & thank you for tuning in, it means the world, truly! As I mentioned before, this story may not be the best for some, so please heed the warnings & proceed with caution. The sadness will not consistently be in each chapter, that much I promise, but we have to get through it right away so we can understand our dear Reader’s mindset as of right now. NO EZRA YET, SORRY! And like I said before, this is probably not totally historically accurate, so take everything with a grain of salt pleeease. Other than that, enjoy!

Tags: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily @honeymandos @pascalpanic @aliwritesfic @mandocrasis @hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @barbossa2319 @sarahjkl82-blog @day-off-inkyoto @pedrocentric @astoryisaloveaffair @ezrasbirdie @danniburgh @foli-vora @lucrezia-thoughts @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamer @quica-quica-quica @meesterblack @amandalovess @hunterofartem1s @pedro4ever @mishasminion360

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Chapter Two

~APRIL FIFTEENTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Your eyes flutter open on instinct as the sun rises against the pale blue of the sky, its ochre rays peering from behind the grassy hills and across the wheat fields while waking the birds. They start their day with a song, shaking their feathers and stretching their wings as they merrily fly through the air in search of their morning meal. The hens that found solace in their coops from the stark chill of night chatter amongst themselves as they roam around their pen and the lone rooster releases its shrill call, a signal for the day to begin. Beat you again, you think.

The sun rises a little higher now, the bright of day in full effect as it fills your room with its intense luminosity. You lie in bed a moment longer, watching the dust mites float through the air and dance in front of your nose with each exhale of breath you release. Signs of life all around you, from the dew drops that formed on your window in the early morning to the muscles within your very skin twitching as you climb out of bed. Every little thing teasing and taunting you of significance, of meaning just on the horizon, yet so far out of your reach.

This is your life. Each and every morning, day, and night is as repetitive as the last. Wake up before the rooster crows and stare into the minute cracks rippling through the ceiling, envious of the pollen that manages to escape through and longing for you to shrink microscopic enough to hide away as well. Fill your basin with cold water you had gathered the night before to wash yourself quickly before your father wakes. Clothe yourself in your underdress, long sleeved, blue work dress layered on top with the sleeves rolled up, an apron cinched at your waist, and dirty and worn, black boots laced up tight enough to prevent you from minding the ache they feel as the day progresses.

You look at your reflection in the hazy mirror as you braid your hair; the drabness of the glass only accentuates exactly how you perceive yourself. The girl staring back at you was but a shell of the one you knew before. Before, when you still had ambitions that would have led you far from this town. To a place you could live anew. Now, just an empty being as one day fades into the next. Eyes that no longer gleam, hair that no longer shines, skin that no longer glows.

You had given up long ago of any hope and dream of something more, surrendering to the bleakness and repetitiveness of this life when your mother passed. A promise on her death bed to help care for your father any way he needs. And this is what he needs. You, here on the farm, helping tend to the chickens and the cows and the small shop he owned in town. The one your mother ran that was unceremoniously thrust onto your lap. The organ within your chest beats solely to pump the blood through your veins and keep you breathing, if only for the promise you made to your mother.

You fasten the gold chain around your neck, a locket with a faded photograph of your mother hidden within hanging to your breast. You tuck it into your blouse to keep her close to your heart and head down the ladder, stepping lightly as to not awaken Pa any earlier than necessary. Your Pa, an old man now with hair white as snow, only having turned the shade since Ma left.

Wrinkles crease deeper into his skin and the bags under his eyes droop slightly to his cheeks now on his once chiseled face. His strength has dwindled within the last year, and with no other siblings to share the burden of the farm, you knew you could not leave your Pa to deal with it by himself. So your own dreams and goals were swiftly thrown into the dirt to be rained on and turned to mush, impossible to be picked up again.

As you finish grounding the coffee beans and throw them into the pot of already boiling water resting on the range, Pa begins to stir and soon after wakes up, the aroma of caffeine acting as his own signal to wake. Leaving the house to give your father privacy to dress, you head to the hen coop to gather a few eggs for breakfast.

You take a deep breath of the crisp morning air, the smell of apple trees at the front of the house, then the smell of grass with fresh dew, to the smell of hay and chicken feed as you get closer to the pen they are corralled in. As you head back into the house, Pa is already seated at the small, round table with his tin of coffee.

“Good morning, Pa,” you greet softly.

“Good morning daughter. Thank you for the coffee.”

“Grace to our health, Pa,” you say, as you always do when he gives you his thanks.

Financially, you and Pa were well off enough; you still couldn’t afford luxuries like sugar, but you were able to live comfortably with only the necessities and the occasional new pair of boots. You were grateful to have the farm and the shop, both reliable sources of income for your small family, and you were blessed that Pa was still able to work the fields, but you know as time passes and his joints weaken, you would then need to take over the labor. There was truly no path for you to leave this life.

The older women around town had begun to whisper about you, not necessarily trying to keep their gossip from reaching your ears. They were just as bad as the hens that cluck around their pen all day. A never ending chatter of you being stuck in the house or the farm or the shop, working as an old maid for the rest of your life.

You’re still fairly young, just over two decades of life in you; sure, the girls you once played in the streams with as children were all married women now and on their third, fourth, fifth child, but you didn’t feel the desire to find a husband just to bend to the simple mold of life this society has cast. If you were to still have any control of your life, it would, at the least, be that.

You crack the eggs into the beaten and tired pan over the range, letting them cook to completion before removing and plating them, along with a roll of bread and the butter you had just churned the day prior. You walk over to Pa and place his portion down before working on your own. Pa sends up a quick prayer and starts to eat. His prayers turned to letters to Ma, but he never failed to speak them before every meal or before bed, sometimes even when a sudden abundance of eggs were laid or vegetables had sprouted during the night.

“The season is nigh for corn and potatoes,” Pa mumbles and you feel your heart sink to your feet.

You had forgotten about the season, when Ma and Pa would work the fields together endlessly, sweating through their work attire to be washed every evening. You still feel the creak in your elbows to this day. It is the busiest season, bringing in the most coinage for the year, but now that it was only you two, you worry about juggling between the shop and the farm.

“Pa, how will we manage?” You voice your concern. Pa takes a deep breath.

“You will hang a notice in the shop when you go today,” he says matter of factly. “Ask Mr. Williams if you are able to hang one on his window at the post as well.”

“And what shall it say?”

“‘Seasonal laborer wanted – will provide lodging with pay’.”

“Where will he stay?” You inquire.

“The barn; we will provide him blankets and he will be free to use our wash basins when needed and we will offer him meals.”

“It will be a lot of money expended, Pa; will we be all right?” You ask as you sit at the table with your plate and coffee tin.

“We will make do, daughter,” he says, the finality in his voice signaling for this conversation to cease. “We will not be able to pay handsomely or feed him much, but we require the extra hand if we are to pass the season.”

“Yes, Pa.”

You lower your head and eat your eggs in silence. You don’t pray anymore, not necessarily feeling the need since your Ma was taken, as well as your aspirations. Pa finishes his coffee, leaving the dishes in the wash basin and grabbing his hat, walking outside into the fields to begin preparations for the season. You sigh; the tears that have long hidden in your ducts refuse to spill out to bless you with relief.

The last time you properly cried was for Ma; every day you feel them there, the pressure building in the corners of your eyes, but nothing ever falls. A mind trick, you suppose, to force you to focus on the more important things. You don’t have the time to spare to release them; your mind and body are now slaves to the farm and the shop.

After your breakfast, you walk to the wash basin with your dishes, hand pumping the water from the pipe just off the side and using the homemade lye soap you learned to make from your mother. Once the dishes are washed, dried, and put away, you walk over to the black safe in the corner of the room, turning the dial to its correct numbers and pulling out the metal lockbox from the inside.

It carried within it the sales ledger for the shop and the velvet bag for the coins. Pa empties the bag every day as he looks over the ledger, placing the coins into another metal box that only he has the key to. He gives you coin anytime you ask, as long as it is needed for the shop or food for the house and, occasionally, on special days.

You pick it up and take it with you to the front door, pulling your bonnet and fabric bag from the hook they hung on. You stick the lockbox inside your bag, as well as the key assigned to it, and head outside. Pa is already far into the fields, hacking away at the dirt and smoothing it out for the new growth. You don’t bother saying goodbye; he knows where you’ll be. Where you’ll always be.

Living alone with Pa became quite challenging, you were disheartened to learn. You’ve always had a loving bond with him since you were a child; maybe he expected the same from you as he did from Ma, but he still managed to make his lessons on the farm enjoyable, doting upon you as any loving father would. Now? The anguish you both have felt since losing the feathery soft and caring love of your mother strained the relationship between you two.

What was once a thick belt of leather that connected you now pulled further and further apart until it became as frail as rubber, threatening to snap at a moment’s notice. You love your Pa; of course you do, and you know he loves you too. If only you could grieve together.

Upon entering the town, the people are going about their normal routines. The baker stacking the fresh loaves of bread in his window, the shoe shiners along the streets working tediously on men’s boots, the hens clucking – the older women gossiping away passionately about whomever they desire. As long as it isn’t you today.

You reach the shop, key in hand as you unlock the brass keyhole and turn the knob, the small bell dinging above you as you enter. You flip the sign in the window from the side that reads ‘Closed’ to the side that reads ‘Open’ and you pull back the shut curtains, allowing the light of day to flow into the small room.

Heading back to behind the counter, you remove the lockbox from your bag and set it on the shelf underneath in its usual resting place. You barely have a moment to remove your bonnet when the bell dings and you look up to greet the person who has walked in. Wonderful.

“Hello, my sweet,” the man husks and you find it difficult to choke back the bile rising in your throat.

“Hello Silas,” you say flatly. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“Darlin’, you know exactly how you may be of service to me.”

Silas Taylor, a boorish man of thirty-eight years, has desperately been attempting to attract your affection for the past two years. He had the decency to respect you and Pa after your mother passed, halting his advances for all of one week. Considering his age, he did not show any signs of maturing, both in his looks and his brain. One might even label him handsome, were he not such a crude and overbearing personality.

Ma and Pa had bid you to consider his proposal, but in time came to understand he was not the best man you could have as a husband. Pa despises Silas, has even told him so to his face, yet it did not cause Silas to stray from pursuing you. Disrespectful, despicable, a generally awful person, Silas is.

Why he had you locked on to his sights, you weren’t sure. You never gave him the opportunity to court; staying cordial as to not make an outright enemy of him, yes, but never once have you made it apparent you enjoyed his attention. Nevertheless, he continued.

“Silas, please. I must ask you to leave my shop if you are not interested in a purchase,” you implore, hoping he will understand your position and take his leave.

“But, little one, I am very interested in a purchase. What must I do to make you my wife?” He grins, as charming as the manure out in the fields. In a flash, your vision goes red as you replay his statement in your mind.

“I am not for sale, Silas. That is the most offensive remark you have said to me yet,” you declare harshly, the acidic bile in your stomach turning into a burning rage.

“There must be something that can be done, my sweet. You name it; the most lavish jewels and dresses your pretty, little mind can dream of,” he presses on with a smile only found on masks to scare the children with.

‘Pretty’ and ‘little’, amongst his unwelcome endearments, are the words to send your mind into a downward spiral to declarations that you’d rather not say unless you were alone, lest he take offense and decide to wreak havoc on you and Pa. You put your foot down and grab his arm roughly, pulling him with you to the front door. He only laughs at the scene unfolding, rather pleased with himself that he’s ruffled your feathers so.

“Silas, I am no longer asking. Please leave,” you say as plainly as you can, doing your best to keep the tremble of anger out of your voice.

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles satirically. “Until our next meeting, my love.”

He pulls your hand to his lips, his strength surpassing yours and his thick, wiry mustache rubs harshly against the tender skin of your hand. You furl your lip and flare your nostrils, unable to contain the look of disgust on your face as he glares at you perversely with his black eyes. You tug your hand away and the bristly hair under his villainous nose scrapes you with the motion.

You stand with your jaw clenched and hands balled up in tight fists at your sides, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palm as you watch him walk away, leaving puffs of dirt trailing behind with each cocksure step he takes. If you were to only be allowed one person to despise in your lifetime, it would be Silas Taylor.

“Dear, are you well?”

A gentle, aged voice calls out to you from behind. You whip around quickly, your skirts twirling as you face the elderly woman that has hailed you.

“Mrs. Williams,” you greet, willing your fury from the unpleasant interaction to rest for the time being.

“Was that Silas Taylor you were speaking with?” She asks.

“Yes,” you exhale. “Yes, it was.”

“He’s a quite handsome lad, dear. It is known all over town how you have bewitched him. Why do you not accept his proposal?”

Adelaide Williams; the sweetest among the hens, but still a hen nonetheless. You sigh deeply to yourself, deciding not to engage in the conversation with the one woman who treats you with any shred of respect and kindness, even if her ideals still match those with the others in town.

“Mrs. Williams, while I have you in my presence, may I ask a favor?” You appeal.

“Why, of course, my dear!” She smiles, all thoughts of your personal affairs exiting her imagination.

“Do you suppose it would be alright to leave a notice at the post office? We are asking for help on the farm for the season.”

“Yes, dear, it’s quite alright,” she smiles, her wrinkly skin creasing along her cheeks and eyes.

“Thank you; will you wait a moment while I draft it?”

She nods and follows you inside the shop, slow in her old age. You quickly grab a sheet of paper and a fountain pen, inscribing the words your Pa informed you to write in large enough letters.

“I imagine this season will be most difficult without your mother. I am so very sorry, dear,” Mrs. Williams says as you write and your hand quakes slightly at her comment. “How have you and your father been managing?” Cluck, cluck, cluck.

“Not without difficulty, Mrs. Williams, but we manage nonetheless,” you say courteously, not wanting to relay any information that could be the next piece of news to travel through the grapevine. You finish the notice and hand it to her.

“Shall I direct him here or to the farm?” She inquires as she reads the note, perhaps looking for anything contradicting what you already stated would be written.

“The farm, more suitably, so he can speak directly to my father,” you reply. “Many thanks to you and Mr. Williams,” you end with a sweet smile.

“No thanks are required, my dear. Anything to help you and your father. Your mother was a wonderful being. I was proud to have known her.”

Another quake. You nod politely, letting her hold your forearm as you walk to the front door. The bell dings as it opens and you watch her while she walks down the wooden pathway to the post office. Once you’re sure she’s well on her way, you turn back inside and draft another notice for the shop window before you begin arranging the merchandise for the day, taking inventory of goods that are depleting, and checking order forms belonging to families around town for produce off your farm.

A most provincial and forlorn life, indeed, that you will have to bear until the end of your time here on Earth.

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Chapter Two

[tera-starstorm]

Who is yasuta? I just don't know I'm a new follower. Can have backstory yes.

oh boy this is a loaded question. im going to summarize it as best as i can! CW for implications of child abuse and alcoholism.

so to quote directly from my summary doc...

"Yasuta Kelekolio Ripley was born in Sinnoh to a young couple in Canalave City. Unfortunately, his parents were both terribly poor and had their child by accident, not to mention his mother, Kanoa, had been desperately seeking some form of companionship and slipped into an abusive relationship. His father used the birth of their child as a way to manipulate her into staying with him. Their cycle of poverty continued despite Kanoa's hard work to support the family as a result of his father’s tendency to spend absurd amounts of money on alcohol and other things of the sort. He was cold to his son, pinning most of the work on the already overworked Kanoa when he could. When he did have to care for Yasuta, he tended to do so in a careless and uninterested fashion.

When Yasuta was three, they had a second child, named Yuki. Though both children were neurodivergent, Yuki was more obvious. Their father did not take kindly to this. His alcoholism had become much worse over the years, and he had taken a turn from simply cold and uncaring to progressively more violent. At an incredibly young age, Yasuta began to learn to purposely invoke the ire of their father to direct his violence away from Yuki, earning him a few scars, most notably the one on his eyebrow and the one on his hand. Kanoa never learned what was happening as this would only happen when she was out working and Yasuta had become a selective mute as a result of the abuse, allowing his father to make excuses for what was causing the injuries. Yuki ended up falling ill at an incredibly young age and passed. Following this, Kanoa finally had the courage to kick their father out, leading to him eventually losing any form of custody of his living son. Yasuta was able to spend a little over a year more with her before she eventually passed as a result of illness as well. Before social services could come get him, he took Kanoa's only Pokemon, a Buneary named Chai, and made a run for it.

Yasuta spent a considerable amount of time endlessly wandering Sinnoh with just Chai. Due to the normalcy of young children traveling the region with just their Pokemon, people didn’t particularly pick up on the fact that he didn’t have any safe place to stay. Even if people did recognize him as a missing child, he was never in the same place long and was never found by anyone searching. He spent much of his time battling to make money and slept in Pokemon Centers when he could help it, but sometimes had to sleep outside if he got lost. This obviously was not a pleasant experience in such a cold region. On the occasion, he would also take to the Great Underground for shelter. He became unusually good at battling for his age and eventually began battling gym leaders upon realizing winning provided a generous sum of money. Whispers of a bizarre young trainer arose amongst the Sinnoh league as a result, though he never seemed to care about the badges or the championship.

When he was around eight, he was found by married couple Maggie and Clifford Ripley who were keen enough to realize he was orphaned and homeless. They had been vacationing in Sinnoh and found him staked out under their vacation home's porch thanks to Chai getting Maggie's attention while she was outside.

It had been particularly cold in the region recently, with snowfall having befallen the area they were staying in the previous night. Maggie found Yasuta freezing and hungry under the porch and frantically took him inside to warm him up and feed him. Usually Yasuta would have run away by this point, but by this point had become too weak to do so and knew he had no choice but to let himself be helped. Planning to call social services the following day as it was late and the boy clearly needed rest, the couple let him stay overnight. Maggie and Cliff ultimately ended up bringing him back home to Postwick in Galar after jumping through some hurdles regarding adoption.

It was clear to the Ripley parents that Yasuta was not mentally well from the get-go. They initially thought he was entirely mute, and his knee-jerk reaction to Cliff was one of wariness despite having clung to Maggie very quickly. They did everything in their power to help, but unfortunately were not at all well off and could not afford any proper treatment for him. They did, however, discover he was transgender around this time and had simply taken on the identity he wanted to while unsupervised, not actually knowing what being trans was at the time. This was wholeheartedly supported by them (Maggie herself was also trans). The first few months living in Galar were rough; it appeared as if he was experiencing mild bouts of trauma-induced psychosis. Fortunately, he did meet Hop during this time, who was his age. They connected quickly, and Hop paid no mind to Yasuta's somewhat unorthodox behavior. He himself was neurodivergent and could actually connect with Yasuta better due to this shared trait. Hop was the first person Yasuta broke his mutism to, beginning to speak in very short and choppy phrases when he felt it necessary. It was not long before he began to do the same for everyone else, though he was a bit slower on the uptake with Cliff.

The next three years passed with lessening roughness. Yasuta began to speak more frequently, and his more extreme symptoms of trauma began to subside over time. When he and Hop were eleven, a divorced single father and his daughter of their age moved in nearby. Zinora "Ziggy" Wiley was a quick addition to their friend group as a result of the extroversion both she and Hop displayed. Yasuta was quiet at first and mostly clung to Hop (quite literally - he has the habit of holding onto the arm of people he trusts, going as far back as when his biological mother was alive), but eventually adjusted to her presence and became close to her as well. Ziggy moved between her parents' residences, having to move a considerable distance to the city every so often. Her friends were able to gather that her relationship with her mother was somewhat tempestuous, as she was far stricter than her father.

Yasuta frequently went to help Maggie at work at the Pokemon daycare at this age, as well. Most of his time was spent hatching eggs left behind by trainers who had visited. One of these days, he ended up hatching twin shiny Toxels. Since they were not technically owned by anyone, he was allowed to keep them and named them Camellia and Amaryllis respectively, with Cam being the more fiesty of the two and Ama being far more relaxed and even a bit lazy. After all of the turmoil in his life, he considered them somewhat of a lucky charm. His work at the Pokemon daycare also proved him incredible at working with Pokemon. Despite his seemingly callous exterior, he was very gentle with them, especially smaller and younger ones.

When the group was fifteen, they set out to get endorsed for the annual gym challenge. Hop was absolutely set on following in his brother's footsteps in becoming champion. Ziggy, the child of a gym trainer, felt it was necessary she not only took on but also won the challenge, wanting to prove to her parents she knew what she was doing. Yasuta thought himself more along for the ride than anything. He did not want to be left alone in Postwick while they traveled and presumed it would at least be an interesting experience, having wanted to expand his horizons for a while."

of course that's just a general rundown of his past predating the gym challenge. i probably don't need to review the events of the game in depth but there are changes to the story and some notable things about it in regards to yasuta. for example:

the premise of it all is that yasuta is forced to approach and resolve the parts of his trauma he's been struggling with and trying to ignore for years. i won't go into depth but a lot of the things he learned back in sinnoh aid him greatly in the gym challenge but hinder him in every other way (ex. his quick decision making is great in combat, but hurts him socially. he tends to assume people think the worst of him and will jump to conclusions if he has a bad feeling)

both yasuta and leon were injured following the eternatus incident, with yasuta falling comatose for about a week following it. the event was a turning point for him.

he's zamazenta's chosen. both his personality and design are meant to reflect that. he has a natural predisposition to want to protect people, whether that means physically protecting them or even emotionally protecting them (hence why he tries to hide his own burdens. he doesn't want to stress his loved ones out)

he and hop have an incredibly close bond. i cannot stress enough how focal of a point their relationship is to the story

and then i suppose for fun i'll add some random tidbits about him that aren't necessarily story related but give a good idea of his personality!

he's... kind of angry/scary looking for his age and speaks very flatly. however in reality he's very quiet and mild mannered. he's pretty self conscious about how he presents. he doesn't want to put people off

he's autistic and has ADHD as well. it's part of what makes him so good at battling. he has issues w/ light sensitivity and certain sounds and wears earplugs to most big matches in the stadium

loves botany. a special interest of his and one of his top hobbies alongside baking and cooking.

composes music. plays piano, guitar, and sings. very shy about it and not very open about it for a long time until the gym challenge kinda breaks him in regarding being seen by people

he and hop mutually have crushes on each other. however yasuta didn't know how to differentiate platonic and romantic for a long time so he just figured how he felt must be normal

very uptight about his appearance. after spending time homeless he absolutely cannot stand feeling like he isn't clean and presentable because it brings back unpleasant feelings. trying really hard to break free of that

honestly there is a lot more i could say. a near infinite amount. he's probably my most in-depth character like... Ever and i can't fit everything here because of the sheer volume of information. but i suppose this is probably a good start if you want an idea of who he is! i talk about him all the time so you'll pick up more info along the way. the "swsh: crimson aegis" tag is full of stuff regarding him and the general story too if you want to learn more. thank you for asking about him!

hypochondriac as a result of losing two family members to illness. gets super antsy when someone he's close to is sick and does everything in his power to take care of them. naturally terrified of getting sick himself and struggles not to think it's something lethal when he is

not good at vocalizing his thoughts and feelings hence why he's not very talkative. hop is excellent at deciphering what he's trying to convey and helping him put it into words

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Together 4: Glass.

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CW: explicit language and content, torture, captivity, wounds, implied sex work, strangulation, choking, suicide (hanging), suicidal thoughts/explicit planning, mouth whump description (bleeding, asphyxiation, choking), breathing, attempted noncon, bruises, beating, conditioning, dehumanization, noncon touching, drugs, alcohol, multiple whumpees, multiple whumpers, whumpee as caretaker, letmeknowifimissedany

August once asked what they do to me. Mouthed it, like he couldn’t stop himself from forming the words, but didn’t bother voicing it out of horror or just because he knew I couldn’t answer. I wouldn’t fucking know where to begin anyway.

Probably down on my knees.

At this point, our situation boggles my mind even more than when they trained me to be silent. That was logical when you psychoanalyzed it but shit got fucked sideways when August came into the picture. It’s just senseless now, an unending labyrinth of manipulation and control. Double the captives means double the fun. I was lucky to be alone for so long. There were two others before him but never like this. In the grand scheme of things, they’re all mere drops of water in the swimming pool of my time here. It was another woman first, although I never learned her name. She seemed like a Tiffany or a Heather and was really pretty, too but never trusted me. Wouldn’t even look at me, as if I wasn’t just as much of a prisoner as her.

Poor thing was in the wrong place at the wrong time and saw something she shouldn’t have. She didn’t last long at all. Unraveled faster than you can say, “Money’s on the table.” You’d think she’d have a little more grit. I mean you hear stories and can only imagine the shit they put up with in that industry, but it was like something out of an exorcist movie. Crying hysterically, throwing herself at the walls and doors, and trying to strangle the life out of me like I was sitting on a key. They came in and intervened but not before she’d purpled my neck so I could barely breathe. That was the only time they ever took the shock collar off. She spent the next bit catatonic and then one day when they brought me back, she was dangling by her own diamond-studded jeggings from a pipe on the ceiling, toes just a few inches from the ground. Damn slow way to die. They took out the pipe.

I’ve given it a hell of a lot of thought myself. She’d obviously been trying something similar with smacking herself into the concrete walls, but that will only get you a concussion that makes it feel like you’ve gone a few rings deeper into Hell. No, thank you. My choice would be the naked lightbulb on the wall, next to the door. If I shoved it far enough down my throat before it broke, I’m pretty sure I would asphyxiate before they could do anything. The key would be to bleed enough into my bronchial tube and inhale enough shards of glass to shred my lungs a bit. A little internal bleeding down my esophagus wouldn’t hinder the cause but certainly wouldn’t be fatal on its own, never mind the risk of just cutting my tongue and mouth to ribbons if it breaks too early. In that case, I’d be fucked. That’s why Wyatt leaves it there, uncovered, even though other lightbulbs down the hallway have metal cages screwed over them. Tempting me to risk it. He also knows that, now, I’d never leave August. I feel responsible and that’s why he holds my life in his hands. The torture will never stop and August is better off with me to take care of him in whatever way I can, even if it doesn’t even come close to reparation.

—

The next guy was probably mid-thirties and built like a truck. I can’t begin to imagine what he did to wind up here. He didn’t take to captivity well either. Everything they’d put into him, he’d let out onto me. The first time, he was angling to get a sweeter kind of release than just wailing on me. I was pretzeled around one of the legs of my bed frame, while he punched and clawed at me, so hell-bent on not letting go, I was screaming my head off for help despite the collar. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that Wyatt doesn’t like anyone to touch me. That went over like a lead balloon. Playing off his proclivity like somehow I had any right to decide not to be raped. Wyatt would have stopped it anyway and I could have saved myself the next few days of my bunkmate beating the living shit out of me undisturbed as long as he left it at just that. As soon as Wyatt decided I’d learned my lesson, or was sick of seeing me limping and bruised, that guy was fish food.

The second bed was empty for a long time after that even though I’m sure there were others. Wyatt has a list a mile-long of people he’d like to get his hands on for one reason or another, but I never saw them. Wyatt would still bring me out to toy with me in his usual ways. The buffoons would bring me out when he wasn’t around for entertainment but they know better than to touch me more than cursory shoves to keep me cooperating and even then, more often with their phones or other inanimate objects, rather than their hands. To them, it was endlessly entertaining to get me high out of my mind and mess with me or make me play Emma Fortyhands until I puked all over myself. I should have known Wyatt wasn’t wasting any time during this plateau of suffering. From what August says, he was here for a handful of days, maybe even two weeks, before they made us roommates. Wyatt just talked to him, drilling him for hours. He had been screening him, looking for the perfect match before binding us together in torment.

They always take me first and bring me straight to Wyatt. He likes to talk to me about what he has planned for August, trying to get a rise out of me. Like I’d be dumb enough to think that any amount of disgust or fear on my part would make a lick of difference for August. If anything, Wyatt would double it just for my reaction. Next, Wyatt makes sure I’ll make it through what he has planned for me without passing out. The humane thing would be to give me a second meal or something but instead, he gives me whatever his henchmen have lying around. An unpredictable twist added to my slow destruction. I’m lucky if it’s an energy shot or some gross drink that tastes like fruit-flavored battery acid and leaves me shaking. More often, it’s “just a bump” of something that makes my heart race and the whole session so unbearable I’m screaming in my head at the top of my lungs until I come down.

One time, he gave me a tab of acid. His favorite kind of experiment, the ultimate demonstration of his success. To no one’s surprise, I’m conditioned enough that I still didn’t speak and followed every instruction. That was, no contest, my worst day on this fucked-sideways merry-go-round. I was tripping so hard. Too slow and too fast at the same time, no distinction between myself and everything around me. Wyatt’s barbaric plan turned into a barbaric fuck-up. A small part of me understood what I had done even before I came down and when I stumbled out, I was met by silence instead of the usual dumb peanut-gallery comments. They threw me into the shower after, like always, but left me there for hours since I was still tripping. I was hysterical by the time they let me out. By some miracle, or just Wyatt perversely delaying the end, he had actually called a real doctor.

—

Today, Wyatt hands me a double shot of whiskey because it’s “cute” to watch me struggle when I’m tipsy. I knock it back in one swallow, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much that frightens me. He finishes getting me ready and then smacks me on the ass to get me moving. Once I’m in the room, he starts feeding me instructions even though I already know what he wants from me today. This way, he’s in control of my every action, like he’s thinking for me, while I just focus on getting air into my lungs, fighting through the alcohol hitting my bloodstream and burning in my empty stomach. I can throw it up in the shower later if I need to. I just need to survive this.

By the time I stumble out, I’m inevitably a mess. Crying, shaking, and covered in sweat, even on the days I get the raw, straight edge experience. One of the baboons walks me to the small concrete room, empty except the industrial-looking shower head in the ceiling above the drain. The controls are on the outside of the room which is how they make sure the water is ice cold and stays on for exactly five minutes. They take the collar off and I get a bar of soap before they lock me in. It used to be orange soap bars that made my skin feel dry even wet. After that, it was green with the same problem but a stronger smell that clung to me all the time, which wasn’t half bad. Lately, it’s a white, rounder bar, that’s distinctly feminine, and leaves my skin soft, which would be concerning if I wasn’t already too balls-deep in my worst nightmare to care.

I used to dance in and out of the freezing shower while I soaped up but now I stay under the whole time. It’s the only thing that makes any damn sense anymore, the one small touch of reality in this shit storm. I stand under the frigid water and then shake and shiver once it’s turned off until the cold becomes a buzz on my skin and in my veins. Depending on the day, I wait for seconds or hours until they toss me a small, scratchy towel and clean clothes. The waiting is part of it. Not because I’m covered in goosebumps, muscles cramping so that I have to curl in on myself for heat, but because of what I know is waiting for me next.

When they finally let me out and lock me into the collar, it’s all I can do not to run back to our basement hole as fast as my legs will carry me to make sure August hasn’t bled out or gone into shock while they kept me from him. It’s all I care about anymore, helping him survive, making him as comfortable as possible. Honestly, it is the least I can do. It’s my fault he’s here at all, kept to be part of a set. Not to mention the heinous torture. If I had known, I would have done my damndest to kill him before it ever even started.

And I would have inhaled that fucking lightbulb immediately after.

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Taglist: @deluxewhump

[atiny-dazzlinglight]

Red Strings of Fate - Chapter 3

Genre: Fantasy, Fluff, Angst, Slight Humor, Romance

Rating: PG-13

Au/Tropes: Supernatural AU, Demons AU, Monster AU

Pairing: No pairing, Eventual OT8

WC: 14.9K

Chapter Warnings: Symptoms of PTSD mentioned, Jealousy, Manipulation, Implied Smut (at the end but no graphic details)

Ao3 Link

Notes: As I said in the last chapter notes, we are back into Hongjoong’s pov and we are continuing from where we last left off. So please enjoy!

Taglist located at the bottom. Fill out this form if you want to be added.

Last Adventure☜︎☜︎ Next Adventure☞︎☞︎

Hongjoong eyes widened as he felt the other male bring his arms in front of him, stretching them both out in front of him.

He watched the prince’s hand touch the hilt of his sword and that’s when Hongjoong squirmed.

“ I asked a question. Your left hand or your right hand?” He drew his sword closer as he bent down.

“ Please! Don’t do this! I do anything else! Just don’t cut off either of my hands.” Hongjoong pleads, his heart beating fast and damn near in his throat. He hasn’t felt this type of fear since Liam and Elijah. His body started to feel numb as Seonghwa sat there as he decided which hand he wanted to cut.

Hongjoong squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to think of something other than the fact that he’ll be losing a hand. The advisor was holding his forearms firmly and out the way as his sword hovered before selecting his left hand.

Seonghwa nearly brought the sword down and through the flesh and bone of his wrist when he stopped. The faintness of aura seeped into the air and had his body hesitate. It was nothing great from the array of beings he dealt with before, but it’s more so the fact of that type of malicious aura coming from a human.

The prince used his free hand to lift Hongjoong’s chin, “ What are you?”

Hongjoong was confused as he looked up at is blue eyes, “ What?”

“ Don’t try to lie to me. I asked you what you are?” He watched his brows get furrow, clearly a tad annoyed from his first answer.

“ I’m a human.”

“ Don’t lie to me.” Seonghwa grit through his teeth as Hongjoong shook his head back and forth.

“ I swear! I’m just a human man who has human parents and average human strength. There is nothing else to me. A simple peasant boy and nothing more!” Hongjoong yelled at him, his voice firm as he felt his head get pushed down near the ground.

“ Watch your tone.” The man above him said as Hongjoong tried to shake his hand off of him.

Seonghwa had glanced at his advisor. Hongjoong watches them have a silent conversation through their eyes for a minute before Hongjoong gets pulled up off the ground and made to stand on his feet. The bag he stole snatched off his hip as he watched the prince hang it from his belt.

He walked past Hongjoong, and the shorter male watched him before he shoved him to follow. The brown-haired elf gave him a look when he turned around. Hongjoong huffed as he just followed him, knowing very well that he can’t outrun them again. His legs were still screaming at him due to their soreness.

Hongjoong walked through the less crowded area that he ran through just some moments ago. He looked around at the brick structures, covered with vines, a few flowers blooming that he didn’t notice before that he found pretty.

“Don’t even think about trying to escape from us again.” He heard the elf behind him say as he turned his head behind to look at him.

“ Can I have your name?” Hongjoong asked, and he can tell that he threw the wood elf off. His brows raised enough to give himself away.

“Why would you want to know?”

“Well, it’s annoying to try and talk to someone without addressing them with at least a name. I was raised better than that.” Hongjoong watched the man’s face before he slowly opened his mouth.

“It’s Yeosang.”

“Well, Yeosang, I would like to tell you that I have no plans to escape because my legs are still screaming at me even now as we walk, so no, I don’t plan on escaping,” Hongjoong spoke, watching him all the same as he noticed they made it back to the Main Street of where he first ran from them.

Hongjoong watched the prince head back to the stands, and when Hongjoong went to follow, his shoulder was gripped tightly and turned in the opposite direction.

“I thought we were following the prince,” Hongjoong asked as he forced him to go in the direction of a carriage, opening the door to move him inside. He watched the elf say something to the driver before getting in himself and shutting the door.

“ We will be staying here until the young prince comes back from finishing his errands he was supposed to do before you foolishly stole from him.” Yeosang spat out, obviously still passed that he had to bring him here.

“Again, I am sorry for what I did, but I truly needed the money.�� Hongjoong watched as that only made the other man more upset.

“You don’t have to steal from people to gain money. There are always other options. It’s the lowest of lows to steal from others.” Yeosang criticized him, and it slowly started to make him irritated.

“You know I have been trying to get a regular job since I traveled here three years ago. I did everything I could for a job and was denied every second I tried. I was forced to be homeless for six months, and I still struggle to find a solid job, even after someone was kind enough to offer me a home. I wasn’t raised to steal by my parents, but when the people and the city are so unforgiving to me every chance they get, am I supposed to accept it?”

Yeosang wasn’t expecting him to speak to him like that, and he tried his best not to have that shred of pity for him show on his face, “ Everyone has a hard time at some point in their lives. You haven’t seen anyone steal here.”

Hongjoong scoffed, and it made Yeosang turn his attention back to him, “ Just because you don’t hear or see anything doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. I’ve seen plenty of them because we can all recognize each other.”

“It’s not that many of them. There’s always a group of bad people in a sea of good.” Yeosang rebuked, but Hongjoong was quick to respond.

“The line between good and evil and what is right and wrong can be blurred, and if you work in that damn castle, then you should know that very well. Not all the people who steal are bad because they have to choose to steal to make ends meet simply. If stealing were such an issue, there would have been reports about such, yet they never make a fuss because what’s pocket change to you is a fortune for us. Our values and lifestyles are the opposite of each other, so just because you can’t fathom the idea doesn’t mean you are right.”

Hongjoong didn’t care how reckless his tongue was. He wasn’t going to let some uppity wood elf, who only knows how to kiss the ass of the rich that has gold endlessly, fall into their hands. He can royally fuck off.

He saw it in his face.

He saw that he wanted to argue back with him, and he was ready for him to, but then the door of the carriage opened to reveal the prince holding a few things. He looked between the two of them with a raised brow.

“ Was there something that I missed?” He asked, looking at Yeosang, waiting for a response.

Yeosang gave him another look before turning back to the prince, “ Everything is fine. Do you need any help?”

Seonghwa nodded, passing the flowers and bags of fruit to Yeosang, telling the driver to head back to the castle before climbing inside next to Yeosang. Hongjoong felt the carriage move as he huffed.

He should have just listened to Eden. He told him not to get too greedy, or he would deal with the consequences.

But what else was he supposed to do?

Eden stuck his neck out to help him instead of living on the street for the rest of his life. Eden started by stealing until he could have enough to open his tavern. Since then, he had a simple life, and even when following the proper protocols, the city takes most of his earnings and barely has enough for his expenses.

He even makes sure to feed him and make sure that he’s well-nourished and is clean.

All he wanted to do was give the man that helped him start a new life after being forced to start over again, and he couldn’t even do that.

Hongjoong didn’t want to look sad in the carriage with the two elves, but the shift in his demeanor and facial expressions didn’t go unnoticed by the prince that stayed silent.

Seonghwa couldn’t wrap his head around what gave off that malevolent energy from the supposedly human male. It didn’t look like he could use magic, and he gives off no type of physical distinctions of being nonhuman. So what could it be?

He couldn’t help his c,urious nature about it. He hasn't come across someone like him, and he just had to figure it out for himself before he disposed of him.

The carriage stopped and Yeosang was quick to open the door for the prince and Hongjoong tried his hardest not to roll his eyes at his eagerness. The Prince stepped out first, and Hongjoong followed after Yeosang retrieved the purchases they made in town.

Hongjoong eyes scanned the massive structure in front of him, eyes glancing at the fountain in front of the building, slowly walking along the perimeter, mouth slightly agape.

He has always seen the manor from the tavern, and it was always quite beautiful from there, but seeing it in person was something different.

It was elegant and refined. It was truthfully exquisite, curious and Hongjoong found himself angry that he would have dreamed of something like this.

“If you're done daydreaming, follow me,” Yeosang said, making the smaller man turned to him. They both started to walk inside, and Hongjoong rushed to follow behind them, ignoring the side glances that the guards had given him.

The walls were massive, ceilings high with the sun gleaming on the stained glass from the colorful windows above them. Paintings of other high elves mounted on the wall that Hongjoong admired before he nearly bumped into the back of Yeosang.

He watched Seonghwa walk away down the hall, hair flowing behind him as Hongjoong found him watching the prince's body get smaller before he was plucked in the center of his forehead. Looking up, he saw the wood elf scowl at him.

“ Follow me, and don’t you dare try any unnecessary crap.” He scolds, and he ticked Hongjoong off for how he acted towards him.

“ I’ll follow if you tell me where exactly we are going.”

“ I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“ Then I’ll stay right here in this hall.” Hongjoong moved to the wall before sitting down on the floor, enjoying the irritated look on his face.

“ By the Gods, why are you humans so damn difficult?” He berated and it made Hongjoong give a dry laugh.

“ By the Gods, why are wood elves so damn stuck up?” Hongjoong retorted with a smile as he watched him get angrier, “ I promise I can be such an easy guest here and for you, but if you continue to be such a prick to me, I’ll make everything worse for you.”

Yeosang walked over to him and reached for his arm, pulling him up, “ I promise that I’ll cut your tongue off with my sword if you keep running your mouth like this.”

“ If you or the prince wanted to do something, you two would have done that by now. But instead, you brought me here. I don’t know why you both had brought me here against my will, but I do know that if he didn’t tell you to do anything to me, then you can’t.” Hongjoong shook out of his grip as they both stared at each other, “ Now start treating me with some common decency and then this can be easier for us both.”

Yeosang looked at the man up and down, thinking over what he said before mumbling something that Hongjoong couldn’t hear and walking away from the human, “ Just follow me to the living quarters.”

Hongjoong taking his time to follow behind him, a few feet behind him as he stared into the back of the wood elf’s head, “ Why am I going to the living quarters?”

“ Would you prefer the dungeon instead? You living with the other servants of the family sounds too generous in my eyes.” Yeosang looked over and nearly laughed as Hongjoong quickly shook his head, “ So, as I said, that is where I am taking you for now.”

Hongjoong was confused. He tried to steal from the prince and he didn’t lose any limbs. The dungeon would be the most appropriate place for him to be, but he will stay around the other workers who also live in this massive estate. It didn’t make sense to him, and it made him a bit uneasy since he feels that there’s an ulterior motive for doing this.

Hongjoong was led far down the corridor, passing other workers that greeted them and waved at Yeosang or ask him for quick advice that he happily answered. He could tell that they all looked up to the elf and valued his input. Yeosang also looked genuinely happy and satisfied to help them. So maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as bad as Hongjoong seemed.

Yet again, the harsh behavior could be due to his sticky fingers grabbing the heavy bag of gold and running away when they gave him a chance to return it with no issues.

“ This will be your room until the prince says otherwise.” Yeosang pushed a door open and stepped to the side to let Hongjoong step inside. Hongjoong quietly walked inside, mouth slightly open as he looked at the beautiful room. He walked around the bed, admiring its size as Yeosang watched him from the door. Hongjoong hand touched the sheets and was amazed by how soft they were.

Hongjoong felt like this room cost way more than his life and his next two lives too.

He’s never been in such a place before and he couldn’t help but be stunned by its elegance.

“ Thank you.” Hongjoong’s voice was low, but Yeosang heard him, a tad intrigued by his reactions.

“ If you plan to thank anyone, then thank the prince when he comes by the room. Stay in this room until he comes back and tells you what you can and cannot do. I have other tasks to take care of, so I will be leaving you here alone. However, that doesn’t mean that you can do anything stupid and try to escape. If you try to leave, I will personally come after you myself. Do I make myself clear?” Hongjoong nodded as Yeosang spoke to him.

Hongjoong watched Yeosang close the door and his footsteps leading down the hall before it got quiet.

Hongjoong let out a deep sigh as he took his boots off as he looked around the room, his toes wiggling in the plush carpet underneath his feet as he never felt something this soft. He wondered what animal the fur came from.

He pushed it all to his mind as he walked around the perimeter of the room, hands dragging across the wooden dressers.

He pulled open the drawers to find some clothes sitting inside. He wasn’t sure if he should touch them or not. He doesn't want to give the tawny-haired elf any type of motivation to yell at him. Not that he cared, but more so that he didn’t feel like dealing with that.

So Hongjoong silently walked back to the bed and hesitantly sat down on its expensive sheets. They were soft to his touch. Fingers gliding with ease as he somewhat became enthralled with the material that he never experienced before. It was then that he decided to lay down on the bed completely.

He felt his body slightly sink into it, almost welcoming him with such ease that he closed his eyes for a minute.

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know how long he would be able to touch such luxury. He exhaled before inhaling the strong smell of fresh cotton from the bed, and Hongjoong felt his aching muscles from running sigh along with him.

He would do anything to be with Eden and laugh around with the patrons of his tavern because that’s his home, but he can’t help but wish to be entangled in this lifestyle just a bit longer.

The moment Hongjoong’s body started to quiet down and convince him to relax in this unfamiliar place, the door opened suddenly, and it made him open his eyes and immediately sit up in the bed.

He greeted him with the face of the prince, who happened to be alone this time. You couldn’t see Yeosang at all from where he sat, and he didn’t see him in the hall either before he shut the door behind him.

It was quiet.

Both of them were staring at each other. Hongjoong, not knowing what to expect from the prince, sat back near the headboard of the large bed. Seonghwa's eyes were piercing him as it felt like he was planning something that Hongjoong had no idea of.

“ It’s good to see that you got comfortable enough for a nap here, but now I have business to talk to you about.” His tone was harsh, and Hongjoong knew that he better pay attention to what he had to say. “First off, I’ll introduce myself. I am the first prince of Crescent Hill and next in line to the throne, Park Seonghwa. What is yours?”

Hongjoong swallowed before answering him, “K-Kim Hongjoong.”

“So Kim Hongjoong is the name of the man who was foolish enough to steal from me in broad daylight?” Seonghwa started as he walked away from the door and made his way to the center of the room. Hongjoong’s eyes following him the whole time he moved, “ But this is now besides that point of you being a petty thief.”

“Then what is this about?” Hongjoong asked him as he adjusted himself on the bed. Hongjoong admiring his side profile before he stopped his pacing and turned his head in his direction.

“ What did I ask you out in the alleyway?” Seonghwa hinted at and watched Hongjoong rake up his brain for the answer before looking back up at the high elf.

“ You had asked me what I was?”

“ And I still need an answer to the question.” Seonghwa turned his body to face him completely.

Hongjoong huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “ I did give you an answer. Whether you find the answer I gave earlier efficient enough is a problem for you and not myself.”

It was then that Seonghwa crossed the room very quickly and had slammed his hand beside Hongjoong’s head on the headboard. It startled Hongjoong enough to jump and stare up at the prince with wide eyes. His blonde brows were furrowed and his eyes were sharp.

“ You may have human strength and some human agility, but your aura says differently. I know I’m not wrong in this.” Seonghwa argued and he saw the confusion in Hongjoong’s expression once more.

“ What is an aura?” He questioned, a slight tilt of his head as he waited for an answer from him.

“ Aura is this very distinctive atmosphere that surrounds and is generated by a person, place, and thing. Whether it is small or big, there’s some type of aura surrounding everything around us. So that also includes humans, but usually, it’s a tiny amount of aura that’s produced from them, and they are all generally the same.” He explains in great detail as Hongjoong listens.

“ So, what is the problem with my aura?” Hongjoong looked up at the elf, now curious in his reasonings.

“ Despite it being faint, I sensed such evil and tainted aura coming from you that wouldn’t be possible for a regular human to generate. As much as history knows, it’s completely unheard, yet here you are.” Seonghwa gritted through his teeth, and it made Hongjoong glance down.

None of this made any sense to him. He was strictly human and nothing less.

How could he be walking around with a ‘tainted’ aura like this?

It made his head spin as the back of his head rested against the headboard. Seonghwa pulled his face away but was still fairly close as he sat down on the bed. He was still staring at him when he looked up.

“ I seriously don’t know how to answer your assumptions about me. I was born by human parents and was surrounded by nothing but humans for the most part. I wouldn’t know how this could happen.” Hongjoong’s eyes were cast down, still lost in thought as Seonghwa tried to think of some possible explanation.

“ You said you were surrounded by humans ‘ for the most part.’ So I can assume that you are around other beings besides them. If that is true, then can you tell me what type of species you commonly stayed around.”

Hongjoong gave an empty laugh as he looked back up at the prince, a look of agitation in his eyes, “ My old home had a small number of nonhumans who lived there peacefully, but there was a pair of demons who decided to make my life a living hell because I stopped them from hurting someone.”

Hongjoong crossed over his chest as he chewed on his bottom lip as he thought about, “ It was always stupid things and nothing serious, but the last time, they crossed the line and hurt me real bad.”

His mind flashed to that brutal beating. He heard their morphed voices and laughter echoing in his head until it overlapped, and he wanted to leave his mind. He was hearing Ava screaming for them to stop and to leave him alone. He was feeling incapable of breathing since he got slammed down. Remembering how weak he felt, how tiny he truly felt, and how hopeless he felt.

Seonghwa watched the look of pain and terror rise to his face, and it took him by surprise. The smaller male was squeezing his arms so tightly that he could see his blunt nails slowly dig into his skin. He could see him holding his breath and never exhaling.

“ Kim Hongjoong?” He questioned, hesitantly reaching forward to tap his leg.

Hongjoong was so deep in the nightmare replaying in his head that when he felt something touch him, he jumped back. Panicked, he looked forward and realized who was in front of him.

Wasn’t he in the alley?

“ Are you okay?” Seonghwa grew concerned for him. He knows nothing of what those demons did to him, but for them to cause a reaction like this from just thinking back to it.

Hongjoong finally took a deep breath and released his hold on his arms as they fell to his sides. He couldn’t find the strength to look up at him after all of that. His hand reached up to wipe away the tears that almost threatened to fall in front of the prince. It made him angry with himself.

Hongjoong didn’t want to show this man his weaknesses, but I’m guessing he couldn’t control himself as his mind had spiraled out of control. But maybe it had brought some clarification to him.

He was a human, but his aura was ‘supposedly’ evil.

Hongjoong had finally looked up at Seonghwa, who was patiently waiting for him to respond to him, “ Could aura be transferred to another person?”

Seonghwa brought up his hand to rest his chin in, “ Most of the time, beings that can control their auras usually place them on valuables or their territories, so no one bothers them. I haven’t heard of them placing their auras on other people.”

Could that explain everything? It could be the reason why it is so faint and why most people wouldn’t notice it. But again, what if he is just trying to trick him into escaping? Seonghwa doesn't think that he is that much of a fool, but he did steal from him.

Seonghwa looked back up at the man, “ When did that situation happen?”

Hongjoong ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to calm himself down slowly, “ I was 18 when it happened, and I’m 21 now.”

“ That sounds more than just aura. Do you regularly hang around such demons?” Seonghwa questioned him, watching his body finally ease itself against the wooden bed frame.

“ Demons and nonhumans never really scared me before, even after that incident. I haven’t been around any of them since I was here, but then again, some kinds hide in plain sight, and I wouldn’t know. Does aura not stay attached for that long?” Hongjoong tilted his head, and it made him look more childlike to the prince.

“ It’s unheard of as far as my knowledge, but I’ll figure that out for myself,” Seonghwa stood up from the bed and walked back to the center of the room, “ Because of my need to learn and comprehend everything, I want to figure out the mystery of this dark aura that surrounds you. You’ll be under surveillance for as long as that takes. I won’t bind you to this room and you're allowed to walk throughout the premises and you will be fed and bathed. Try and escape and I will put you down and just examine your corpse if need be. Do you understand, Kim Hongjoong?”

“ B-but what about my life outside of here? I can’t just stay here!”

Hongjoong is grateful that they aren’t killing him or taking any limbs from him, but he would rather be back in the tavern with Eden and the rest of the tavern’s patrons.

“ You should have thought about that before you committed the deeds that you did. Try if you must, but it would only result in death.” Seonghwa gave him a stern look. He knew he was serious.

Hongjoong couldn’t just run like how he did in town. This was a heavily guarded place with trained guards. He was royally screwed.

“ Oh, before I forget,” Seonghwa watched the smaller man process his words as he walked back to the door before looking over his shoulder. A grin that gave no sense of calm to Hongjoong’s nerves

“ Welcome to the Park Estate, Kim Hongjoong. I do hope you enjoy your stay.”

THREE WEEKS LATER

Several days had passed since he was invited ( very much forced) to stay in the royal family’s estate who ruled over the town he lived in.

It was honestly better than what he had initially imagined. The staff was told that he was new help, so he simply joined in with some of their duties.

With him joining with the help, he traveled throughout the massive home and had a bit of an idea of where everything was.

The left side of the estate was where the King and his family, meaning Seonghwa, lived. Some higher-up employees, such as Yeosang and some generals in charge of warriors, stayed there as well. There were some standard rooms like the study, the library, and meeting halls, but he knows nothing as far as anything else.

The center of the estate is where the main hall room was located and the kitchen and a few other rooms that he didn't know about. He only passes some of these rooms because he has to go clean some of these areas.

The right side of the estate was where he and the other staff members lived. Everyone had a bedroom, storage, and bathrooms, while some shared a common area. It was shocking to see so many staff there that were genuinely eager, let alone happy, to work for the prince and the family. Even though Hongjoong says that he can’t blame them when he bears witness to how well they are treated.

While Hongjoong truly wants to be back home with Eden, he did make friends with some of the other staff that managed to keep him hopeful and happy.

One of the friends he made was a young man named Subin. He’s been working there for a little over a year. Even though his main job is cleaning-related, he never voices any compliments and is usually in a good mood whenever he speaks. It’s always nice talking to him, and he gives him a good laugh when he needs one.

Hongjoong pretty much did a little bit of everything, even though he wasn’t supposed to. He was usually just supposed to clean a particular area that he was assigned for the day, but he would always end up helping the staff in the kitchen or tending the vast gardens. He even helped some of the warriors polish their weapons after battle and sparring.

Neither Yeosang nor Seonghwa predicted how fast Hongjoong would become well-liked at the estate, but that was just Hongjoong’s personality and friendly nature.

It was just another day Hongjoong had finished his tasks for the day and bored out of his mind. He was walking by the stained windows as he gazed outside into the town, wondering if he could see the tavern again before he heard loud giggles echoing the halls along with fast pitter-pattering of feet.

Hongjoong turned his head in the sound direction before he felt something bump into his legs and let out an ‘oof. Looking down, he saw two children, one on the floor and the other one catching up the other.

“I told you to be more careful!” The taller one yelled as the other one rubbed her nose.

Hongjoong squatted down to be her height as he tried to make sure she had no wounds or marks on her body, “ Hey, are you okay?”

The tiny child looked up at him and nodded, “ My nose hurts, but I’m okay!” She rubbed her nose before looking up at Hongjoong.

Hongjoong gave her a soft smile and also offered his hand to help her stand. The bigger child had watched Hongjoong help her up, “ Are you new?”

Hongjoong nodded as he looked at her, noticing how the younger of the two stared up at his face, “ I’m Hongjoong. What’s your name?” Hongjoong kept his tone light and friendly as the little girl smiled at him.

“ Elva!” She yelled, and it made Hongjoong giggle.

“ What a pretty name,” He looked up at the other child, “ And yours is?”

“ I’m Estel. She’s my little sister.” Estel watched her younger sister reach for him; arms stretched that had Hongjoong shocked himself. She watched him hesitantly lift the girl, and she smiled the moment that he did. Hongjoong had her body resting on her forearm.

“ Can you take us to the kitchen, please? We were on our way to get us some snacks.” Elva giggled as she waited for him to answer.

“ Well, you asked so sweetly, so how could I say no to you?” Hongjoong said as he started to turn his body before looking at the older of the two, “ Will you still be joining us?”

Estel shook her shock as she nodded as Hongjoong started to head for the stairs, Estel looping her arm when he walked. Estel watched her sister talk the man’s head off, still shocked that she trusted and got comfortable with the random man so fast in so little time.

Estel knew her sister was usually wary of any new person for a while, whether she met them or not. But this was the first time either of them had seen the man Hongjoong, yet there she was in the kind man’s arms.

Hongjoong didn’t notice the other sister’s stare as the younger talked his head off about the different foods she liked to eat, nor did he notice how some of the staff glanced at him to see the sister’s so close to him when he was barely in the castle for a month.

But they continued to walk down the stairs and made their way to the kitchen. Hongjoong used his shoulder to push the door open and peek inside, seeing a familiar face. The man turned his head after hearing the door, and he watched the man sigh.

“ What do you want now, Hongjoong?” He put down the knife he was using and stared at him.

“ Well, I missed you too Jin, but I wanted to get some snacks for myself and these two,” showing both sisters, and it made Jin widen his eyes.

“ Didn’t I give you two snacks earlier? Why are you back here, and you brought him back too.” Jin pinched the bridge of his nose as Hongjoong put Elva down.

“ Can’t we have a bit more Mr. Jin? Please?~” Elva ran over and clung to his leg.

“ If I keep giving you sweets and you fatten up, your mother and the prince will have my head!” Jin exclaimed as he rubbed his throat, and it only made her giggle.

“ We would never let him hurt you” Estel smiled as she eyed the desserts on the table that Hongjoong’s eyes also caught as he moved closer to the tray.

“ Jin, what type of dessert is this? I haven’t seen those before.” Hongjoong tore his eyes away for a split second to look at Jin with a childlike gaze.

Before Jin could speak, one of his assistants, Jaemin, came inside with an empty tray, “ Those are peach puffs.”

“They look fluffy and soft and look delicious~” Estel added as she and Hongjoong stared at each other and looked back at the tray. Elva was heading back to them, asking for Hongjoong to pick her back up, and he did.

Hongjoong knew the look that she had. It was the very same look he gave when he decided to steal from the prince.

Without a second thought, Estel snatched two puffs in her tiny hands, “ Grab one for Elva!” Estel yelled as Jin tried to run over to them.

Hongjoong hesitated for a split second before taking a puff as well and rushing out the door, hearing Jaemin’s laughter and Jin’s nagging.

“I make it up to you tonight, Mr. Jin!~” Hongjoong shouted as he followed behind the girl with her giggling as they ran. He knew Jin wasn’t going to chase him and just smack his hands when he sees him again.

They slowed down and sat down in the hall by the steps on the floor. He gave Elva her puff before placing her in his lap, smiling when she started munching on it. Estel handed Hongjoong his own, and you all ate the puffs quietly in the halls.

There was a sort of peace as you three ate the stolen food on the floor enjoying the silence as they enjoyed the sweet treat. The peaches were fresh, and the cream was fluffy. Hongjoong was enjoying his time with the sisters as his eyes were closed.

“Ddeonghwa!”

Hongjoong’s eyes opened as he watched Elva scurry out of his lap and run towards the blonde prince; his blue eyes were staring at Hongjoong, a stoic look on his face until Elva drew closer and he gave her a sweet smile.

A smile that Hongjoong didn’t know the man could take.

“ Now, what are you doing out here? Are you and Estel causing trouble? ” The prince’s voice was soft, maybe even delicate as he crouched down, opening his arms as she ran right into them.

“ We ate some peach puffs with Hongjoong!” She yells as she goes to feed the last bit of puff she had to Seonghwa, who chuckled and opened his mouth.

“ It does taste delicious.” Seonghwa smiled as Hongjoong watched with wide eyes.

Estel had gotten up as well, a big smile gracing her face as she ran over to hug him as well, “ Are you busy with duties for the rest of the day?”

“ No, I just came back from finishing my tasks for the day.” Seonghwa tucked her dark hair behind her ear as he spoke.

“ Can we go to the gardens then?” Elva asked with big doe eyes, hoping that the man would say yes.

“ Of course we can go. Would you like to go now?” Seonghwa tilted his head as she jumped up and down with excitement, a clear yes by her actions.

“ Oh! Can we bring Hongjoong with us too?” Estel asked and both Hongjoong and Seonghwa weren't expecting her to ask that. They both had looked at each other, not initially knowing how to answer it.

Hongjoong tried to help the prince as he’s stood up, “ Maybe I shouldn’t go with you all-”

“ Nooooo,” Elva runs over to him, clinging onto his leg, “ Please come with us, so can I show you the flowers there pleaseeeee.” She begged and Hongjoong felt like he couldn’t tell her no.

“ Join us, Kim Hongjoong. It’s quite hard to tell the little one no.” Seonghwa spoke, looking at him with eyes that were unreadable as Hongjoong eventually agreed.

The sisters eventually pulled both of them out towards the gardens, Seonghwa sitting on one of the benches as the sisters pulled Hongjoong around to the flowers that they found were pretty. Hongjoong stared at the white camellias and pink roses that Hongjoong found himself getting so enthralled in them as he reached out to touch them all.

Seonghwa watched from where he sat, watching Hongjoong’s movements as he noticed the childlike gaze he had just for the flowers, and Seonghwa found his face softening a bit.

They were just flowers. They weren’t too memorable or unique, but here was the tiny human being memorized by some vibrant flowers.

Seonghwa immediately found it foolish and childish in his mind, but something in the back of his mind found his reactions adorable, and the moment that it crossed his mind, he froze and shook his head back and forth to get rid of the thought.

He looked back up and realized that the sisters were pulling the man before, having him sit right beside him. He smiled at them as they told them they would get them both a surprise and ran away before either of them could say anything.

The moment the girls were far enough away from them, Seonghwa’s smile dropped, and he turned to face the shorter man, “ What ulterior motives do you have, Kim Hongjoong?”

Hongjoong giggled, his legs crossed as he leaned back onto the bench before turning to look him in the eyes, “ I was waiting for you to say something to me. I wasn’t expecting you to do it so soon, though.”

“ Answer my question.”

Seonghwa watched him roll his eyes before looking back at him, “ There’s no motive or planning. I like my life very much. Those lovely children ran into me in the halls after I finished my duties for the day. Elva asked for me to come with them to the kitchen.”

Seonghwa stared at him, nowhere near satisfied with his answer, “They don’t usually warm up to any new faces so fast. Perhaps, you used some type of magic on them.”

“ Wouldn’t such a high-ranked elf like you would have noticed any magic traces on them as you did with the tiny amount of dark energy on me?” Hongjoong raised his brow and it took everything in him not to laugh at the look on the prince's face.

It was a mix of shock and maybe a pinch of flustered as he watched him scramble to try and respond to him, his mouth opening and closing, not knowing what to say.

Hongjoong found that face more fitting on him than the stoic one he walks around with.

It makes him look younger. It made him look youthful.

It made him look cuter.

Huh?

“ I guess you're right….” The prince mumbled, not looking at him anymore

Hongjoong, being lost in his thoughts, nearly missed what he said, “ Did you just say I was right?”

“ I did,” Seonghwa answered, feeling Hongjoong lean closer to him.

“ Say it again.”

“ What?”

“ Say that I was right again.” Hongjoong pushed, moving closer to the elf, feeling their thighs touch.

“ No,” Seonghwa turned to the side. He felt the man close the distance between them again, and he was ready to yell at him when he turned his head around, but his voice died down when he noticed how close their faces were.

Hongjoong wasn’t expecting him to turn around either, and he knew the prince could see him visibly swallow as he also took note of their closeness. The last time he had his face this close to his face was when they were in his room, and he was threatening him with the sword.

But now, there were no weapons in sight. It was just the two of them, up close and personal. Hongjoong couldn’t stop his eyes from looking over the handsome face. He found himself admiring his cheekbones, the shape of his nose, and daringly eyeing his lips.

They looked pretty and soft before his eyes glanced back up to catch the pair of bright lapis staring back at him.

He was waiting for the man to yell for his staring and the lack of personal space, but it never came. He just kept eye contact with him, and Hongjoong wasn’t sure what he should do. He knew that he could see the faintest of blush coat his cheeks, and he was going to lose it.

By the gods, he was lucky to be broken from the trance as he heard the sisters yell for them as they got remotely closer to them.

Hongjoong was quick to move back to where there was a reasonable amount of distance between them, and he heard Seonghwa clear his throat and turned his head back away from him.

Hongjoong smacked his cheeks a bit before quickly putting on a smile as Elva ran over to him, her hands dirty from the soil as Estel came over with some flowers in her hands. Hongjoong picked the younger sister up and sat her on his lap, and Estel sat in between him and Seonghwa, which he was grateful for. “ What were you two up to for you both to have such dirty fingers?”

Hongjoong’s tone was light and bubbly as he took out a cloth from his pants pocket and gently took her tiny hands to clean them.

“ We found some pretty flowers and we pulled two up for you both!” She squeals as Estel hands them both a flower. It was a red Gardenia and Hongjoong brought it to his nose to smell, smiling when he did.

“ This is a beautiful flower. Thank you.” He gave them a big smile that they quickly returned, not catching Seonghwa looking at him once more with a smile that went unnoticed by the party as the children talked both of their ears off, but they didn’t mind as they sat in the gardens with them.

They both stayed there with them, idly talking and playing with the children, as they were watched from the window, their earlier interaction not going unnoticed as a brow twitched before walking away.

ONE MONTH LATER

It’s been about six weeks since Hongjoong was made to stay there in the castle, and the time he was having there was completely different from that initial week.

Especially when it came between him and the prince of the estate.

He found his eyes lingering on the prince whenever he walked past him, or he caught him after a lesson or meeting. Sometimes, he would see the prince meeting his gaze, and it would immediately make his face flash and have him quickly walk away.

He didn't know why he started to get so nervous around the elf prince, but he did. Ever since their trip to the gardens with the children, he hasn’t been able to look at him calmly.

Speaking of the sisters, Estel and Elva always tried to steal him away while he was doing his tasks for the day. Whether it was bringing in shipments from other cities to him having to clean the floors and windows thoroughly, they tried their best to steal him away.

The other workers found it amusing, never really minding if they stayed out, not as they worked since they never really caused anyone trouble, but they did find it odd how much they went to strictly Hongjoong and no one else.

Hongjoong had just managed to avoid the sisters, both feeling mischievous as they were messing with Subin before quickly asking where the small brown-haired man was.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love their company, but he just didn’t have the energy to play with them. Sadly, they didn’t give up that easily, and they were chasing him.

Hongjoong had some reasonable distance between these girls, them both giggling and smiling as they were trying to catch up. “ Hongjoong, where are you going?” Estel giggles and it took everything in him not to laugh.

He glanced around the halls, spotting a wooden door and quickly opening and shutting it silently as he pressed his ear against the door. Hongjoong heard the girls go past the door, quickly stopping when they couldn’t hear his steps or see him since it was a long hallway.

“ Where did he go?” Elva asked, confused as Hongjoong backed away from the door. He knew their hearing was better than his, so he tried his best not to make any sounds. His eyes never leaving the door until he bumped into something and a hand quickly covered over his mouth.

Hongjoong’s heart jumped into his throat as he tried to turn around and was greeted by those same hypnotizing blue eyes as he leaned to his ear, “ Say calm if you want the girls to leave.”

His voice was low and it sent a shiver down his spine, but he stayed still and quiet. He could still hear the girls talking right outside the door.

“ You think he went into here,” Elva asked, pointing to the door that indeed had Hongjoong right behind it.

“ I don’t think he did. No one is allowed in there and that includes Hongjoong,” Estel thought for a bit before the two heard a sigh. “ We lost him, Estel, so let’s go and get some snacks from Mr.Jin!”

Hongjoong heard Elva make this happy noise as she started to run off to the kitchen, Estel right on her tail as the footsteps and laughter slowly went away, and Hongjoong let out a sigh, unconsciously resting his head against his body and Seonghwa stiffened a bit.

Seonghwa stared to the top of his head, staying completely still and not knowing what to do for a minute.

Hongjoong, unknowing of him stiffening behind him, turned around to face him for a split second before looking past him, “What room is this?”

Seonghwa snapped out of it for a split second before turning around to look in his direction, “This is the castor room. This is where I study and learn new magic.”

Hongjoong walked deeper into the room, eyeing the tree and wood decor in the room, his eyes trailing to the colored glass that brought in the light that illuminated the room. Hongjoong eyes landed on the book that must have been where Seonghwa was sitting.

“So you plan on staying here, even though the young ones left you alone already?” Seonghwa walked past him as he sat back in the chair that Hongjoong was eyeing. He turned in his seat, leaning back to look at him and wait for his answer.

“ I won’t touch anything. I just want to watch you work. I finished my task for the day and I have never seen magic before, so I’m a bit curious.” Hongjoong admitted as he eyed the chair that was next to him.

Seonghwa thought it over, tempted to send him off so he could enjoy his time alone like he usually does. But glancing at the look on his face and eyes made him sigh and turned back around. “ Sit in the chair and don’t touch anything.”

Hongjoong sat in a chair, far away from Seonghwa and his work. Hongjoong eyes scanned the table and saw the books and vials that were over most of the table. His eyes were trailing up to look at the elf prince, who was focused on the text in the book.

His blonde hair pulled back this time in a ponytail, a few loose hairs as his eyes scanned over the text. His hand reached for the feather and dipped it in ink before writing some notes on his own, him noting how pretty his handwriting was as well before looking back up to his face.

Hongjoong doesn’t know how he found himself staring at his profile as he worked, despite wanting to bother him just a bit. He was just enamored with how the gods decided to sculpt such a beautiful-looking man.

He had to be honest. He found Seonghwa attractive. Yeah, he tried to kill him and take his fingers from him, but he was still hot.

Hongjoong chuckled to himself and the sound drew in Seonghwa’s attention, “ What’s so amusing over there?” He asked as he got up, grabbed some materials from a shelf, and brought them back to the table.

“ Would you prefer that I be honest?” Hongjoong asked.

“ I don’t like being lied to, so yes.”

“ I was sitting here thinking about how handsome you are.”

He almost dropped the materials in his hands.

“ Pardon?”

“ You told me to be honest and I said I was sitting here thinking about how handsome you were. Do you not know that you are handsome?” Hongjoong tilted his head, eyes glancing back at the other vials, his fingers tempted to reach out and touch them.

“It’s not that I don’t know that I have good looks, but that’s not what I was expecting to hear. But why would that have made you laugh?”

“ I thought that despite you threatening to take off any type of limbs, I couldn’t lie and say you aren’t attractive. I don’t think I can be good-looking anymore if I lose an arm.” Hongjoong smiled as he dragged his fingertips over the vials, despite being told not to touch anything.

“ A missing limb wouldn’t make you less attractive,” Seonghwa said bluntly, and Hongjoong wasn’t expecting that type of response. It made him stare at the icy blonde prince.

“ I’m sorry, what was that?”

“ I know you heard me loud and clear, but maybe those human ears of yours aren’t too good, so listen closely,” Seonghwa grabbed his collar, making Hongjoong yelp as Seonghwa ghosted his lips by the shell of Hongjoong’s ear, “ I said a missing limb wouldn’t make you less attractive, Kim Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong felt the blush cover his cheeks and a shiver run down his spine from having his voice and breath so close to him. His voice sounded more profound than usual, or was that just his mind playing with him? But this man. This prince had called him attractive and he didn't know how to react to that.

Seonghwa enjoyed the silence from the man as he let go of his collar and went back to focusing on the magic in front of him. He watched from the corner of his eye at how Hongjoong adjusted himself before getting comfortable and watching him work once more.

He enjoyed the sort of “ peace” that befell them both. It was comfortable and relaxing as the only thing Seonghwa could hear was him mixing the elixirs and potions and the glasses occasionally clinking together. But then his ear picked up on a sound that made him look over again.

He saw the tiny man with his head resting in his arms, lightly snoring. He watched his shoulders rise slowly with every breath, and tossed his hair slightly to the side.

Seonghwa marked where he was at last and closed his book before turning to face him fully. He slowly reached over and moved his hair out of his eyes. He pulled his hand back when Hongjoong moved before going still again.

Seonghwa found himself gradually leaning closer, basking in the scent that was rolling off of him. He couldn’t put his finger on it. He never had the chance to figure out what his smell was when he got close the last few times.

Seonghwa didn’t even realize how close he had gotten to Hongjoong’s sleeping face. His nose was almost brushing against him, and he didn’t fully grasp the idea that he wanted to kiss his forehead. But that sounds….wrong.

He shouldn’t desire to do such a thing, especially someone who should just be treated like a common thief. Everything in Seonghwa’s mind told him not to do it, and he knew his lips were inches away. All he had to do was inch a tiny bit forward and he would do it.

Just a tad bit closer and that’s it. Just that simple. But it still felt wrong.

It took a few seconds, but Seonghwa relaxed and looked back at the sleeping man before backing up in his seat. He knew better and he wouldn’t. Whatever urge he had will be swallowed and locked away since he knows it was wrong.

But at the very least, he petted his head and couldn’t stop the small smile as he leaned into his hand a bit.

Seonghwa enjoyed the feeling before he heard a quick knock on the door before it swung open. Seonghwa pulled his hand away fast and went back to grab his book, almost doing it in such a calm and collected manner as if he wasn’t petting the sleeping man.

Yeosang turned around and brought Seonghwa his tea with a smile before he stopped, his eyes immediately locking on the Hongjoong.

Yeosang did his best not to have his face falter as he walked over to the table, sitting the tray of fruits and tea down on a nearby table, “ I brought you some fruits and tea. I didn’t know you would have a guest, or else I would have brought another cup of tea.”

“ This wasn’t planned, but there is no need for that,” Seonghwa reached over and grabbed a strawberry and took a bite from it, letting out a tiny hum as it touched his tongue, “ But I appreciate the snacks. I was a bit famished.”

“ Then you should be eating something more filling.” Yeosang quipped, boldly stealing a grape for himself and popping it into his mouth as he saw the prince smile.

“Then do you know what is being prepared for lunch, Yeosang?.”

“ I can find out if you’d like.”

“ There’s no need for that,” Seonghwa stood up and went for another book on the shelf, “ You do enough for me as it is.”

Yeosang looked back at Hongjoong, sending the sleeping man a look that Seonghwa couldn’t see before fixing it as the prince turned around. Yeosang watched the head back to the table, seemingly comfortable with having Hongjoong stay beside him like that.

“ Yeosang, do you know what the rest of my day looks like? I didn’t meet with the King recently.” Seonghwa asked, eyes glued to the new book in his hands.

Yeosang stepped forward, on the opposite side of the table from Hongjoong, “ As far as today, you have to spar with the general and Lady Nora before dinner. Your schedule is quite free beside the event the King had planned that needs your actual attendance.”

Yeosang watched the man tsk as he looked at him, “ It is coming up, isn’t it? I don’t want to be there.”

“ I don't either, but you know we have no say for this one. You already have some attire being made; the seamstress is almost finished with that. You have the fitting tomorrow, and then the event is two days from now.” Yeosang explained as he heard another deep sigh from Seonghwa.

“ I don’t want to be in the faces of so many nobilities, especially with most of them being fools and not wanting to listen. You ask how to improve things, I tell them, and they don't listen or just resort to saying I’m a spoil and know-it-all brat that understands nothing. But if that's the case, why ask me for my input to begin with? This happens all night long, and you know this.” Seonghwa allowed himself to slip into his chair just a bit and Yeosang gave a small smile at the action.

“I’ll assist you the best way I can.” Yeosang bows slightly and Seonghwa gives a smile of his own before his head turns around when he hears a groan coming from his left. He watched Hongjoong stretch and sat up from where he was, yawning and stretching his arms. Hongjoong turned and looked over at Seonghwa before his eyes turned to look at Yeosang.

“ I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.” Hongjoong rubbed his eyes a bit and the prince thought it made him more childlike as he watched him.

“ I would have woken you up if it was a nuisance for me.” Seonghwa pointed out a comment that didn’t go unnoticed by the advisor, “ Also, while I’m thinking of it, there is an event that will be happening in two days, and you will also have to attend.

“Why?” He wasn’t expecting both Hongjoong and Yeosang to say it at the same time.

“ Only you and I know the real reason why Kim Hongjoong is in this castle, but to others, he is a mere worker. Just like the rest of them, he will be working and most likely be a server to the guests.” Seonghwa pointed out and Yeosang got quiet. Choose to say no.

Hongjoong knew he was right, and he didn't have a choice to say no in this type of situation. “I’ll do my best during this event.”

“ I expect you to.”

TWO DAYS LATER

“Never knew you could clean up so well, Hongjoong. Almost didn’t recognize you.” Subin teased, adjusting his clothes as he smiled at him.

The two of you had spent the day together getting everything ready for the event that’s happening tonight. You expected not to see the Prince and his advisor until the evening, and so far, you’ve been correct. After all the necessary preparations, the workers were all told to change and hurry back before the guest arrived.

Hongjoong eyed himself in the large mirror, admiring his appearance. He never dressed in something like this before, primarily to him not being able to afford something like this. He was dressed in white. A long-sleeved flint-colored top that was buttoned as that top before split down the center passed his belly button and stopped at his knees with delicate gold details that could go unnoticed. White pants that were a bit scrunched at the ankle due to his height, but nothing too bad to where he would walk on them. A high necked vested jacket latched at the top before flowing down and stopping at his thighs. The latch was gold, the edges of the material, and some white and gold shoes to match.

It was pretty simple in appearance, but it indeed was the fanciest thing he had worn. Subin was wearing the same color scheme but was designed differently. “ So funny, now let’s hurry up because we have to go back.”

“ Do you remember how to get there?”

“ No, not at all, so hurry up so you can show me how to get there.” Hongjoong laughed with Subin as they walked out of the room, following other staff that had to work.

If Hongjoong was honest with himself, he didn’t want to help any rich and stuck-up assholes tonight, but he knows he can’t say that out loud. Luckily, Subin would be there with him to brighten the mood.

Jin told them to station a table on the end, and you two were happy to be stuck together.

You both watched how quickly the hall filled up, countless demons, monsters, and humans all dressed in the finest of silks and fabrics to impress each other, and it took everything in Hongjoong to not roll his eyes. He believes that they might get stuck in his head if he did so.

But he did what he was told along with Subin, serving any and everyone that approached their tables. He was a bit shocked when some thanked them but wasn’t surprised by the judging looks he did receive.

Hongjoong found himself getting tired fast, having Subin kick his shin once in and while to keep him up. But soon enough, that kick felt like nothing.

“ Hongjoong, wake up! The prince has arrived!” Subin whispered yell as they both turned towards the more oversized doors.

Hongjoong straightened up and had his eyes glued as he finally got his first look at the King and Queen, Seonghwa’s parents. His father gave off a regal aura; His hair flowed down to his mid-back. He was dressed in black, white, and gold. Hongjoong could see some of the finest jewels adorning his neck apart from his attire.

His eyes went to Seonghwa’s mother and she must have been the most elegant woman he has ever seen, dressed in layers of silk and expensive fabrics that flowed around her beautifully. Her beautiful headdress and intricate hairstyle made her shine like an actual jewel.

But then his eyes landed on the prince, and it felt like his breath got caught in his throat. He was adorned in all black, a great contrast to his pale skin and blonde hair. His attire was flowy as well, similar to his mother’s. As he saw them walk past, he noticed embroidery of dragons on the sleeves and along the collar and hem of his clothes.

His eyes followed him as he walked behind his parents, having Subin smack his arm once more to gain his attention once he noticed some guests walk to their table. But no matter how many times Subin had to slap his arm, he found his eyes going back to Seonghwa.

Maybe it’s because admiring the prince’s beauty made him focus enough to stay up now after seeing countless forgettable faces. But then it became something more familiar when he noticed Yeosang heading to the table.

His pants were plain and straightforward and just white in color. He was dressed in this black vest with a high collar. The seams are traced in white trim, and wearing black and gold cuffs on his wrists. This other piece was a fabric matching his shirt and had a white border and some gold.

“ Mr.Kang, I wasn’t expecting you to come by,” Subin said with a smile, and Hongjoong watched the corners of Yeosang’s lips curve upwards.

“ It’s good to see you as well, Subin.” Yeosang turned his head to look at Hongjoong, and he noticed a slight change in his gaze, “ Nice to see you too, Hongjoong.”

“Anything that you would like?” Hongjoong asked him as Yeosang’s eyes scanned over the array of foods, leaning over to look at it all before standing up once more.

“ I’ll come back later since I’m not quite hungry yet. I plan on seeing you two later then, so make sure you two enjoy yourselves later on.” Yeosang told them before heading off just as quickly as he arrived.

Subin was distracted for a split second when another guest missed the quick change in Yeosang’s face. His eyes narrowed, a frown on his lips before turning his head once more to head back to Seonghwa.

Hongjoong found it odd. He knew the advisor wasn’t fond of him and would prefer if he was dead, but the look in his eyes this time seemed more intense than before.

He just pushed it to the back of his head before he felt Subin smack his arm once more, this time to get his attention as Jin arrived. “

“ You both are done for now. Eat and relax. Just don’t cause any trouble for me, or I’ll have your head. “ He threatened before pushing both of them away, Hongjoong laughing a bit.

“ Now you know you would mourn my death. I’m quite fun to be around.” Hongjoong joked as Jin kicked his ankle as they both stumbled away laughing.

Hongjoong and Subin had made their way to some of the other workers that were switched out to eat. It was away from the more high-status guests, but Hongjoong preferred that.

He has fun and enjoys his time with them. Maybe it’s because this was something that he wished he could have back in his hometown with Ava. Perhaps he’ll get some money and get her to visit.

He knows that’s not a realistic plan, but he could dream.

“ Did he zone out? Oi Hongjoong!”

Hongjoong looked up and realized that Eric, one of the other coworkers that he has made friends with, was calling him. “Hm? What is it?”

“Did you hear anything that I just said?” The younger asked and Hongjoong gave a sheepish laugh before saying no. The boy rolled his eyes before giving him a look.

“ I said that soon with have to go from table to table and collect and dishes and trash from them,” Eric explained, and Hongjoong couldn’t stop the look that appeared on his face.

“ Why can’t they get rid of their trash?” The words flew from his lips quicker than necessary.

“ Look, it's a party for the rich and they are all guests of the family. They aren’t supposed to lift a finger for anything as trivial as cleaning up after themselves.” Eric says sarcastically, a grin on his face as he ate more food, “ You knew what you were getting into when hired here, Hongjoong, so don’t get stupid now.”

“ Aren’t I older than you? Who are you calling stupid?” Hongjoong brow raised and gave him a look that Eric wasn’t fazed by.

“ If you know you aren’t stupid, don’t get offended by it. But seriously, Jin or someone higher up will have your head if you're disrespectful to them. So even if they do something, bite your tongue.” Eric gives him an honest look and Hongjoong huffed.

Subin pats his shoulder, “ It should be fast since most of us are doing that, so don’t worry too much. Okay.” Subin gave a dimpled smile and Hongjoong let out a small smile of his own.

He enjoys this. Bickering and smiling with each other felt very on end and it’s a bit bittersweet that it’s with people that he just met and not his parents. Well, with his mother, yes, but it would be nice if his father were included in that as well.

Before he knew it, they were all splitting up which tables they were going to and grabbed some carts before heading off.

Hongjoong took a deep breath before putting on a fake smile and approached the first table. His greeting was friendly and respectful as he asked if anyone was done with their plates. Some raised their hands and he came over and collected everything that they were finished with. He made sure not to make eye contact with them despite a few leering into the side of his head.

Hongjoong was quick to bow before leaving and dropping his smile the moment he was gone. He nearly mumbled something under his breath before remembering that no humans were sitting at these tables.

So Hongjoong continued this pattern with a fake smile, cleaning and leaving until he reached this last table. He could tell that he was an elf by the pointed ears, and the man was sitting there all alone.

“Excuse me, sir, but are you finished with your food? I'm here to collect your dirty dishes if so.”

The man tilted his head up and gave a light smile, “ Don’t your cheeks hurt from smiling like that? I gave you no reason to smile and neither did those other snot-nosed nobles. Relax and treat me like normal.”

“ I’m sorry, but I-”

“ I may be a royal, but I'm nobody to them. I would rather be treated regularly than a noble,” He turned in his seat before putting his dirty plate on himself as Hongjoong just stared at him, “ I didn’t catch your name. What is it?”

He shook his head as he looked at him, “ my name is Hongjoong.”

“ Hongjoong. That’s a different name, but I like it. I’m Prince Gerold, but I don’t need any formalities. Gerold is just fine.”

“ How could you tell that my smile was fake?” Hongjoong asked, stepping a bit closer to the man.

“ Cause you gave the same type of smiles that I do.” He rested his head in his hand as he glanced back to Hongjoong, “ Please sit, or you can’t waste any time chit-chatting with me?”

“ Well, I’m not supposed to do anything that would upset the ‘royals,’ but since I’m not upsetting you, it should be fine.” Hongjoong watched the smile grow a bit bigger on his face.

“ Well, then let’s sit and chat only for a little while. Maybe this event won’t be as boring as anticipated.”

༄༄༄

Seonghwa was tired.

He was ready to call it a night the moment he stepped into the grand room. But of course, being the son of the current king kept him occupied and busy.

He had to answer to some neighboring townships as well, as they praised him with cheers about what a great king he’ll be, and by the gods, was Seonghwa tired of the repetition.

There were questions on what he would do once his father steps down and how many children of his own he plans to have or if he has selected a queen.

Soon to Seonghwa ear’s, their voices became inaudible and would only pick up a few words that would remind him of what the bloody hell they were talking about.

While some of the guests started to talk to themselves, Seonghwa’s eyes swelled across the crowd as he was quick to stop once he saw a familiar brown hair at a table.

He watched him talk to one of the nobles. It didn’t seem like it was anything terrible because Hongjoong looked utterly relaxed.

But the more he stared, the more he realized that he looked a tad bit too relaxed.

He was able to see how close they were to each other as they talked about whatever. He could see the other person putting his arm on the back of Hongjoong’s chair and give a grin.

He couldn’t read their lips, but he did know that something had made Hongjoong laugh, and the smile was genuine. It made his heart jump a tad bit before remembering that it wasn’t directed towards him. It was someone that he just met and made him smile big like that.

Fascinating.

“ Prince Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa turned back to look at the guests in front of him, “ Yes, what is it?”

They pointed to the glass in his hand, and his eyes followed suit and noticed how tight his grip was on the glass. It caught him off guard cause he never saw his grip tightening. He placed the tall glass down on the table.

“ Are you okay, Prince Seonghwa? Did we say something to upset you?” Seonghwa could see the concern on their face and he snapped out of the slight haze he was in.

“No, it wasn’t you. However, I do have some business that I need to handle. Please enjoy this event to the fullest.” The prince gave a slight bow and smiled before quickly heading off, his feet with a mind of his own.

༄༄༄

Maybe nobles weren’t all too bad.

Hongjoong knew he was supposed to be working, but he couldn’t find himself getting up and ending this conversation. Prince Gerold had a charm about him that just made him stay. Maybe it’s because he was somewhat of an outcast among the nobles and he just seems a bit more humble in a sense.

He found himself smiling and laughing as they talked, not noticing how close the man had gotten or how friendly they would look to any guests. He was just hoping that he wouldn’t get into too much trouble.

“ Hongjoong, can I asked you something?” Prince Gerold tilted his head as he looked at him.

“ Of course. What is it?”

“ Would you like to leave this party? It’s not quite as interesting as you.” Prince Gerold grinned.

Hongjoong wasn’t expecting him to ask such a question. He wouldn’t mind being with him a bit longer, but he knows very well that if he leaves after all this, he might get killed by Jin. or even worse. Get killed by Yeosang.

“ Oh, I don’t think I can. I’m supposed to be working right now, to begin with, so if I leave, I’ll get in tro-” Hongjoong breath hitched when he was pulled a bit closer to him by his chair, catching him off guard.

“ Come on~ We could walk through the city or the gardens and just have a good time. You don’t wanna spend that time with me?” Prince Gerold’s smile was sweet, but maybe it felt a little too sweet that made Hongjoong want to leave, but he couldn’t. It felt like his legs were made of steel.

“ B-but I have to-”

“ I thought we were having fun together. Just for a little bit. I promise to bring you back before this shit of a party is.” Prince Gerold grabbed his hand gently, a complete opposite from the tone, despite being laced with sweet words. His thumb rubbed over his knuckles before bringing his hand to his mouth. He placed tender kisses on each one. Hongjoong wanted to pull his arm away, walk away and deal with all forms of scolding from Subin and Jin, then stay here. Even though he thought that he couldn’t move. Was it fear? Was he scared again? He just wanted to leave.

“Let’s go. I’ll sneak you out to avoid any trouble.”

“Well, it’s a bit too late for that now, is it?” Hongjoong watched how quickly his eyes looked up and passed him, and despite still not being able to move, he knew who was behind him. He knew that voice well enough.

“Ah, Prince Seonghwa. A great party you have here. Not my cup of tea, though, so I planned to leave here with this lovely muse, so if you don’t mind.” Prince Gerold stood up, still holding Hongjoong’s hand. He wasn’t expecting to stand up with such ease when he struggled to do it with his willpower. Hongjoong finally glanced over at Seonghwa as Prince Gerold tries to walk past him.

Hongjoong felt his shoulder get gripped on, and it felt like lightning struck him the moment the elf prince touched him. It made his ears ring, then his spine tingled, and his toes curl before he was finally able to pull his arm away. He faced Seonghwa in shock, but his gaze was rigid set on the other prince in front of him.

“ You went out of your way to compel him? You lured him in with such a fake smile and tried to snatch him off somewhere else. Truly pathetic.” Seonghwa's voice was cold, and he enjoyed the way his lip twitched as he spoke to him, “ You have some nerve bothering my workers.”

“ Now you're saying that as if you care about all of your workers.” He smirks as he crossed his arms.

“ Why wouldn’t I? Their hard work made this event as successful as it is. I owe them all some proper gratitude for their efforts, and it’s just a shame that they still have to deal with something as rotten as you.” Seonghwa stepped forward, right in front of Hongjoong and gave him such a cold glare that made the smirk fall from his face and replaced with a scowl.

“ You watch who you're talking to!” He growled out and Seonghwa laughed in his face.

“ Oh, and what would you do? Did you forget that part of the land that your father owns was a gracious gift from us? Did you forget how much we helped you and your father get to where you are? We hand-fed you everything, and it would be just as easy to make you starve. Be foolish enough to doubt my bluff, and I will personally ruin you. You need us. We don’t need you.” Seonghwa’s aura crackled, and it made the other Prince step back even more from them.

“All of this fuss and threats over one of the hundreds of workers?!”

“ For your information, I hand-picked this one, so yes. Now I suggest you leave like previously intended,” Seonghwa grabbed Hongjoong’s rest and started to walk away. Hongjoong turned around to at him before Seonghwa’s voice cut through the air, “ Don’t look at him.”

Seonghwa walked fast and scouted the area before stepping up to Subin and tapping his shoulder. Subin turned around and nearly dropped the plates he had in his hands. “ Prince Seonghwa! W-what can I do for you?”

“ Take care of the rest of Hongjoong’s work if you don’t mind. I need him for something else more important.” It was then that Subin noticed Hongjoong behind him, and it looked like Subin was trying to get a sense from him about what happened, but Hongjoong sheepishly looked away.

“ Of course! I’ll get right on it.” Subin bows before heading past them and Seonghwa continues to pull Hongjoong out and out the doors, not going unnoticed by the prince’s advisors as he gives a sharp gaze with furrowed brows.

Once Hongjoong believes that they were far enough from anyone, he spoke up, “ Seonghwa, where are we going?….”

“ Just wait. We're almost there.” Seonghwa gave a short response as he guided them through halls that Hongjoong had never been down before; he opened a door and pulled them both inside before shutting the door. That’s when Seonghwa finally let go of his wrist and slumped against the door.

Hongjoong watched how the prince’s back and shoulders slouched before looking up at him. “ Are you okay?”

Seonghwa made a small smile, “ I should be asking you that. A nonhuman just compelled you. The longer you stayed there, the more control he would have had on you.”

Hongjoong looked at his hands and legs, moving them slightly, “ I thought it was fear again. I thought I was that scared and couldn’t move. Not because of magic.”

Hongjoong missed the soft look he gave him as he stayed by the door, “ No. It was magic that a good variety of nonhumans know. If you can use magic or have any items to help you comply, it is quite easy to do. Humans usually fall prey to it naturally. Folks of magic sense other magic, so it would never have worked.”

Hongjoong gave a tiny smile, “ That’s good to know, but that just reminds me of how much weaker I am to everything.”

Seonghwa pushed himself off the door and stood in front of him, “Humans can learn magic too if they practice hard enough. The only way you can stop being weak is if you put the time and effort into being strong. You don’t just need to be physically stronger to beat someone. There are other ways, and I'm sure you would be capable of it.”

Hongjoong looked up at his eyes and let out a laugh, “ Who would have thought that your words would give me some comfort,” Hongjoong rubbed the back up his neck and stared at the ground, “ Thank you.”

“ There’s no need to thank me.”

“ Yes, there is. I found myself in some trouble and I was lucky enough that you were there to help me. I’m sorry for causing trouble and making you leave the party. I’ll—I’ll take whatever lecture or punishment for everything.” Hongjoong stared at his hands.

It could have gone a completely different way and Hongjoong didn’t even want to think what would happen if no one came over to stop him.

“ I was forced to attend this party. I’m the next in line to the throne, so of course, I had to be there. I would have rather hid than talked the same nonsense with all of those guests. And did you think I dragged you all the way here just to lecture you?” Seonghwa raised a brow as he gave him an amused look.

Hongjoong looked back with a confused look, “ Then why did you drag me here? Was it just a chance for you to get away from this event?”

Seonghwa walked past him and headed towards the window, the moon illuminating his skin in hair and almost making him glow, “ Maybe you do have some magic because I don’t know why, but you have been compelling me all on your own.”

Hongjoong slowly walked towards him but kept some distance, “ What does that even mean? Whatever you have to say, just say it.”

Seonghwa never turned around, “ I’ve developed some feelings for you.”

It was silent. No sound was made as they both stood in the same spot. Seonghwa expected this type of reaction and silence, so it took the silence to elaborate more.

“ I don’t know when it started, but I can be honest enough to say that I have developed some type of feelings for you. Maybe it started when I watched how caring and nurturing you were with Estal and Elva and how much they genuinely adored you. I was worried about you manipulating them, but they seem smitten with you. Most people don’t like them because of their mother, but they’re innocent in that matter.”

Hongjoong quietly walked over as Seonghwa continued to talk, just listening to the words that came out of his mouth.

“ Then I started to notice the little reactions and thoughts I would have about you. I didn’t think I could do it after stopping the last time I had feelings for someone. But then you came along, stealing from me in broad daylight and slowly stealing away my heart before I even knew it.” Seonghwa turned slightly to see Hongjoong just a couple of inches behind him.

The prince turned to face him, “ I came over there not because I knew you were in danger. I originally came over there cause my heart couldn’t stand the image of you smiling at someone else. I nearly shattered a glass when it ran through my mind. Like I couldn’t allow it and that’s out of character for me.”

Seonghwa could sense it. His honesty was overwhelming Hongjoong and that’s not what he wanted at all. He could feel and see how tense he was as he stood there.

“ I’m not asking you to recuperate my feelings. I threatened you into staying here and I can’t blame you for hating me. I…I just wanted to get these words off my chest. Don’t feel inclined to return them. You have my word on that.”

Hongjoong finally looked up at him, “ I don’t hate you.”

“ You don’t?”

“ I don’t. Everything you did was logical, especially after what I’ve done. I just don’t know how to take someone saying they ‘care’ for me.” Hongjoong walked towards the window, looking out at the moon-casted town as Seonghwa watched him.

“ Did you not come from a loving home?” Seonghwa asked as he saw Hongjoong frowned at first before giving a smile.

Hongjoong pressed his hand to the glass, “ In the end, my mother cared the most about just one other person and me. So in a sense, yes, I did. But I’ve never had someone admit having feelings for me. I just don’t know how to respond.”

“You don’t have to. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Seonghwa gently placed a hand on his shoulder and was happy that he didn’t tense up from it.

“ You sure?”

“ I swear on it.”

Hongjoong turned around to face him. They both stared down at each other, but Seonghwa’s eyes glanced down to his lips before forcing himself to look away, “ What is it?”

Seonghwa shook his head, “ I don’t want to ask that of you. I can’t ask that from you.” He was speaking more to himself and was about to ramble until Hongjoong gripped his chin and made him look back at him.

“ What did you want to ask me?” Hongjoong’s voice was as firm as it could be as he looked up into those ocean eyes of his.

Seonghwa stares for a while longer before letting out a sigh, “ Can I kiss you?”

Hongjoong was hesitant as he twiddled with his thumbs, “ I haven’t kissed anyone before...”

“ Then maybe you shouldn’t waste that on me. I just wanted to ask.” Seonghwa turned around and started heading towards the door, “ You can stay here until the party ends. I must head back to-”

“ It wouldn’t be a waste….” Hongjoong shifted on his heels

Seonghwa stopped, “ That’s not a yes. I’m no creep. I won’t do anything to you unless you give me a solid yes.”

“ That’s embarrassing for me to say!”

“ Embarrassing to want consent?” Seonghwa raised a blonde brow and Hongjoong grew quiet. He took the silence as an answer and as his hand reached the doorknob.

“Please!”

Seonghwa looked back at the man and noticed the faint blush on his face.

“ You...you can kiss me.”

Hongjoong listens to Seonghwa’s footsteps as he walked towards him again. “ Look at me.” He heard Seonghwa’s voice as he slowly looked up at him. “ Are you sure about this?”

Hongjoong hasn’t felt this nervous before. He wasn’t being pressured into anything. He had complete and utter control of this situation, and as much as he was worried about this, he found himself wanting it as well. “ I am, but you might have to guide me.”

Seonghwa gently tilts his face up and Hongjoong’s eyes looked up at him, “ You can tell me to stop at any time.”

Hongjoong nodded as Seonghwa slowly closed the distance between them. His eyes fluttered close when he felt his breath against his lips. He knew he could probably hear his heart pound. Seonghwa stroked his cheek with his thumb as his lips pressed to his.

His lips were soft against his. Hongjoong felt himself relax as Seonghwa pulled back slightly, opening his own eyes, and found Seonghwa staring back at him. They were quiet as they looked back at each other before Hongjoong leaned forward and Seonghwa leaned back in to kiss him again.

Seonghwa moved his lips slowly, so Hongjoong could learn how to kiss. Hongjoong tried his best to follow him, steadily getting better as Seonghwa cupped his face. Hongjoong found himself slowly reaching up to grip his shoulders. He relaxed more as he started to kiss him with a bit more force, catching Seonghwa off guard a bit.

He pulled away to look at Hongjoong, panting a bit as before speaking, “ Maybe...that’s enough for now.”

“ B-but…”

“ I’m afraid that I’ll do something more if we keep going, so let’s not continue this.” Seonghwa put some more space in between the two.

“ I want to keep going, though.” Hongjoong found a small amount of confidence as he looked at him and Seonghwa gave him an unreadable look.

“ Don’t say something like that to me. I’m trying to have some self-control. Don’t do this because of me admitting my feelings. What you're doing is more than enough. Don’t feel pressured to do anything with me.” Seonghwa's voice was harsh sounding, but Hongjoong wasn’t offended by it.

“ I’m not asking you to have self-control. I want more too. I’m not pressured. I feel comfortable and relaxed right now. I have the confidence right now to say this out loud, so don’t let it go to waste.” Hongjoong stared at him with flushed cheeks before slowly walking to the bed and sitting on it, “ I’ll tell you to stop if I have to. Just make sure your self-control is as good as you say it is.”

Seonghwa gave him a look before walking to him, standing in front of him, slowly pushing his body down on the bed and hovering above. Seonghwa could see how relaxed he was and could sense how confident he was in his choices right now. He feels hesitant, despite Hongjoong giving him all the consent he would need. His fingers flexed beside his head, and now he felt his heart pound. It was only when Hongjoong gently grabbed his wrist, forcing him to look at him.

“ It’s alright. I told you it’s okay. Don’t chicken out on me now, or I’ll feel silly about all this.” Hongjoong gave him an awkward chuckle as he reached to cup his face and brings him closer to him.

Seonghwa closed his eyes for a split second before looking back at him with a soft smile, “ Don’t go regretting this in the morning, Kim Hongjoong.”

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Tagging: @atiny-piratequeen @gettin-a-lil-hanse @queen-of-himbos @jacksons-goddess-gaia @kimnamshiks

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©atiny-dazzlinglight 2021. do not repost, translate, or use my works without permission

[byorder-fanfic]

The Mechanical Dragon

Summary: Marion Qing was born with a spanner with her hand, and Arthur Shelby was born with a paintbrush in his. The two spend their youth in Charlie’s Yard, with Peaky caps proud on their heads. But what happens when war tears their lives apart?

Word count: 2499

Warnings: Mentions of racism, war, amputation, mental health

Author’s Note: This is an idea I’ve had for a while, and I hope I did alright. I have lots of Peaky Blinders OC one shots like this in my drafts, so look forward for some more! If I've said anything incorrect or offensive, please correct me. Hope you enjoy xx

Marion Qing was practically born with a spanner in her balled up fist. That's what her mother always proudly said to her friends, as they all watched the toddler graduate from jigsaw puzzles to pulling apart a clock that'd stopped ticking. Ever since she could walk, she had always trotted to where sparks flew and fires burnt as blacksmiths laboured over steel benches. Ever since she could talk, she had asked question after question about the hows and whys the mechanics worked. That was how she met the Shelbys. She had found her way through Small Heath to a little Yard that was thick in craftmanship and (although she did not know at the time) stolen bits and pieces she ached to tinker away at. Suffice to say, she had ran as fast as she could when a very surprised Charlie Strong found the ten year old sat on the floor, her grey dress thick in soot as she managed to work out how to fix the gramophone that had been collecting dust. Only, as she turned back to check that she wasn't being followed, she hurtled into the chest of a very surprised teenager, Arthur Shelby Jr, who had been sketching some horses from his Uncle's stables. After explaining her predicament, he had merely laughed and walked her back to Charlie, who was holding up the gramophone with an agape mouth that turned into a coy grin when he saw the girl slowly make her way back, holding hands with his eldest nephew.

"So, how'd you like a job?" He said. Although he'd deny it every time Arthur brought it up, the grumpy man managed the smallest ghost of a smile when Marion laughed and hugged him with her thin arms.

The rest is, as they say, history. Arthur had introduced her to the rest of his family, who had been more than welcoming to her. She and Tommy were the same age, and she was the best mentor for Ada, teaching the girl how to win fights against her brothers. Polly had been sceptical at first of the small girl with a loud voice and a joking personality to rival John's, but then Marion brought her a rose twisted from metal sheets she'd found, and her heart was taken with the little girl. The Shelbys had been her top defenders, fighting boys that made lewd comments and threatening to cut off the eyes from anyone who pulled their eyelids in a taunting manner. In response, she'd break the noses of anyone who threw slurs at the brothers and nearly killed one boy who'd gotten too handsy with Ada before the rest of them could lift a finger. Marion grew up like the boys, her skinny frame filling out into lean muscle and strong arms that proved she could fend for herself. She was a part of the Shelby siblings hand me down clothes cycle, always getting Arthur's old shirts and slacks that she'd have to cuff a dozen times to fit. She was permanently covered in oil and grease, which Tommy used as an excuse to avoid her plentiful hugs. Arthur, however, didn't care if he was in his Sunday best- he was already ready to drop whatever he was doing to hold the girl in his arms, coming away with second-hand stains and a big smile. When they joined the Peaky Blinders and rose their way to the top ranks, Marion had her very own razor blade cap that John had sewn for her (a little bit of his blood dried in the seams- he had nimble fingers, but it was a tricky project) as she paraded around Small Heath, safe and happy. Charlie was practically a father to her, since hers had died long ago, teaching her everything he knew and watching her learn things herself. As he got older, he'd just sit back and watch as Arthur and Marion slid under rusting cars, laughing along to their jokes and teasing that always occurred between the three musketeers of mechanics. When his sister died, Marion made him his very own frame with a black and white photo of the late Rose Shelby in. It was before the plague of Arthur Shelby Sr settled in her eyes, like death in the baby blue irises. She was shaking as she gave it to him, the only time she had, and ever will shake. She had been expecting a nonchalant reply or a little gruff huff, but he took her in his arms and hugged her tightly, whispering a soft 'thank you' in her ear.

When the boys went to war, she worked in the factory, building munitions for them to fight with. When she wasn't working, she was at Charlie's Yard to help out with the odd bit of work, and distract herself from missing the laughs of the Shelby brothers. She helped teach Finn to write when Polly was busy with business and Ada was off organising Communist meetings, and had helped him write many letters to be sent off to France. Sometimes, she'd help Martha with the kids, but she was never any good at babysitting. Rather, she fixed cribs and built a cot mobile for baby Katie. It was the second year after they'd left when the accident happened. Well, the factory called it an accident, but Marion knew it was a product of purposeful neglect and tight funds. As a particularly experience blacksmith, she'd been given the more technical work of building bombs and other explosives. One faulty piece of machinery, probably taken from Charlie instead of properly bought from a proper shop, and the trigger was set off. Thankfully, she had thrown it before she ended up all over the walls. Unthankfully, the explosion had blown her very heavy table (that was supposed to be secured onto the floor) into her. She'd trapped her leg, shrieking so the whole of Small Heath could hear. They'd had to amputate. It wasn't too bad, though. With a little bit of wood and nails, Marion had fashioned her own prosthetic. As a woman, she was used to strapping her stockings up, so, with a piece of leather, she managed to attach the limb to a sturdy garter to keep it on. She didn't go back to the factory, which had received an earful of complaints from every Shelby woman, and a lot of strong words from a red faced Finn and a morally supportive Isaiah Jesus nodding in the background. Instead, she stayed at the betting shop, doing errands where she could and fixing horse shoes and the like.

When the boys came back, they were in for a shock. Not only was little Finn taller than they remembered and Polly wasn't drinking so much, but their Marion had lost a bloody leg!

"Why didn't you tell us?" Arthur demanded as soon as he put her back on the ground. He'd picked her up and swung her about as soon as he saw her, before he realised there was a limp block where her leg should be.

"Wanted to see your face," she shrugged nonchalantly as John less-than-subtlety gawked at it, earning a nudge in the ribs from Martha. "I'm glad I did- it's a fuckin' picture, mate!"

The rest of the boys sent off to France had a similar reaction. It was the funniest thing she had ever seen when thirteen year old Isaiah and ten year old Finn were reprimanding fully grown blokes from staring at her. They'd both been there as she whittled the wood, offering to help at every single moment. It annoyed Polly endlessly, wondering why all the enthusiasm couldn't be devoted for doing errands for the betting shop. It was all false complaints, as the boys were doing something other than worrying for the next letter, and learning some useful skills, like woodwork. The boys also helped her with her surplus of jokes on the matter.

"How'd it happen?" Danny had asked the first night back, as they all sat in the Garrison, Freddie and Tommy in the middle of some sort of dispute the rest were attempting to politely ignore.

"Ah, well, it's a tragic story." She said it loudly and theatrically, clutching her chest. She no longer wore Arthur's hand-me-downs, opting for her own softer shirts that smelt fresh and new, until she spilled whiskey and petrol on it. Isaiah and Finn gave each other knowing looks. God knows how the boys managed to convince Polly and Jeremiah to let them come along. But, with two glasses of tap water and an understandable amount of clinginess to their family who had left for years, they were hardly in any trouble. 

"She barely survived," Isaiah echoed as he attempted to get even closer under his father's arm (if that was even possible), who was watching him fondly.

"She's a true hero!" Finn raised his glass like he'd seen his brothers do plenty of times before, earning a scoff and affectionate hair ruffle from Tommy, as Arthur sat back in his seat, waiting to hear more. John wasn't there, instead he was spending his first night home with Martha and the kids. He was happy to be back and more than happy to babysit every day, especially with Martha feeling under the weather recently.

"Well?" Freddie asked, resting his elbow on the back of his chair.

"It was 1916," she said solemnly. Polly and Ada shared a roll of their eyes, going unnoticed by the boys. "Business was hard, me and my ma didn't have enough money for the flat." She let her face go blank, silently praying Finn could keep his giggles in for a second longer. "So I had to get money another way."

"You sold your leg?" Tommy sounded astonished, his wide eyes believing the lie she was feeding him. Then everyone started laughing, and he rolled his eyes.

"Nah," she grinned against the rim of her glass, as the rest of them shared  snicker and a sigh and cocked their eyebrows at it. "Factory had faulty parts whilst I was building some explosives, it knocked a bench onto my leg and crushed it."

"Fuck," Danny whispered, looking at her with wide eyes. The rest of them looked at her sympathetically, a look she didn't enjoy.

"Oh well," she sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "Guess I can join you idiots with one foot in the grave, hey?"

The Garrison was filled with laughter, Arthur bringing one arm around her as his booming voice carried through the room. They spent the rest of the night celebrating, instead of wallowing, something they were all thankful for.

Arthur was fascinated by it, always asking if it hurt or how did she make the joints move so well. Marion wasn't too bothered, happy to give him a distraction from his 'Flanders blues'. He was the only one she told about the phantom pains, and he confided in her about the nightmares, each holding on to the other in their struggles, each trying to help the other. When she asked him to paint it for her, he gave her the sweetest, wide-eyed look of astonishment that made her giggle.

"Are you sure?" He repeated that about a thousand times, more so when he actually set out the acrylics he got when he was younger.

"Yes, I'm sure," she'd always reply, with a roll of her eyes. The final result was beautiful. When Arthur had dragged her away from Charlie's Yard (cautious of the walking stick she'd been using whilst her leg was temporarily out of use), she felt excitement course through her, heart beating faster as she stumbled up the stairs to Arthur's little room. He'd sat her on the bed, leaving the stick on the floor as he turned around to show it off. She'd expected horses, as that was always the thing he'd draw the most. Instead, she saw red. From the ankle to the thigh, a scaly, scarlet creature coiled around the wood, intricately and painstakingly painted in a familiar fashion.

"A Chinese dragon?" Her voice was breathless. She'd grown up isolated from her culture, just like how the Shelby family had lost their Romani roots when their father forced them to settle. There were many Chinese families around Small Heath though, who spoke in Cantonese and Mandarin that she longed to understand, and wore pretty patterns that she envied. She'd told Arthur all this when they both got pissed on her eighteenth birthday, just a bit before Finn was born. That was the first time they'd kissed...and did other things, although they'd never spoken of it since she woke up alone.

"Yeah, I remember, y'know, that night..." he sounded unsure, eyes darting everywhere but in her eyes, hands twisting his cap together. "And, well, I thought it'd look pretty. So, I went to the suit shop, and asked for a pattern to copy. I wanted to make sure it wasn't...y'know, uh, offensive or nothin', but if it is, I can go over and try somethin' else, or-"

She cut off his blabbering with a rough kiss, teeth clattering and her giggles as his moustache tickled her. He hadn't had that at twenty one, but it wasn't an unwelcome addition. Her newly painted prosthetic sat between them on his bed, digging against her right knee as Arthur tried to pull her closer in his eager kiss. Thy broke apart, him blushing and her smiling. With an arched eyebrow, she pulled up her skirt (she didn't wear them a lot, but it made the process easier when she did), revealing to Arthur her knickers and the garter belt she'd fashioned after a few lessons from Polly, below the straps was the scarred stump, ending a few inches above where her knee once was. She noticed his wide eyes with a little bit of newfound shyness as she slipped the cushioned end around her scars, clasping the leather straps onto the belt with a few clicks.

"That's fuckin' amazing," Arthur whispered as she looked up at him. He started to blush again. "Listen, Mari, I...I want you to know that, when we were eighteen, right, and I...when we...well, I shouldn't have left ya." He sighed, looking down to his empty hands. His cap had fallen to their floor once his attention was diverted elsewhere, and he was attempting to replicate the twist of material with his rough hands. "I loved ya then. I love ya now. I just didn't know, still don't...how I'm supposed to be good enough for ya."

"You know," she said, admiring the dragon that flew up under her skirt (she was certain Finn and Isaiah were going to awe at the painting). "Just don't leave again, okay?"

"Okay," he breathed out, pulling her onto his lap (successfully, this time) as he kissed her again, making a silent promise to himself that he'd never let go.

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 13: Filled emptiness (Part 2)

Warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of addiction

Author notes: that one is a very long part (around 3k words...). I tried to separate it, but it just wouldn’t fit, so here you go...! I think it’s been too long since we’ve had angst, so, as an author, it is my duty to write some for you XD please enjoy it!

"Kunikida-kun is so annoying~" Dazai whined as we arrived at his place "I did help the two of you~"

"Won't you admit that you could have done so earlier…?" I raised an eyebrow, removing my shoes.

"Well, it isn't wrong that it was funny to see you struggle…~" He chuckled.

"See…?" I sighed "That's why Kunikida is so tired of you…"

"Is that so?" He shrugged it off "I didn't know~"

I gave up trying to reason him. After all, messing around with our coworker was also something I did, although less than Dazai.

Even though it had almost been half a year, I still did not have a place of my own. The money I had started saving was not enough to rent an apartment, after all. For the moment, I thus stayed at my friend's, who had not lent me his bedroom. His place was divided in two rooms; a bedroom and a living one, where he was supposed to eat. I was his guest but he had graciously accepted to make me sleep in the living room… What a perfect gentleman Dazai was… Hopefully, I would soon be able to get my own apartment in the Agency's dormitory and sleep in my own comfortable windowless bedroom instead of waking up everyday because of the daylight.

"What about opening a bottle of sake to celebrate the end of the case?" He suggested.

"I don't want to drink tonight…" I declined "Tomorrow, I have an appointment with Yosano-sensei for my… Detoxification therapy…"

"Oh, I see." He did not insist "Let's just have a quiet evening then~"

"I'd like that." I smiled "By the way, did I tell you Uemura-san would teach me how to cook?"

"You didn't. That's great~"

"That's obviously not to feed you." I huffed "It is so I don't have to eat crab cans my entire life."

"You're mean…~ I do eat instant noodles as well…~"

"I can finally eat properly after all this time, it's not to have a diet based exclusively on junk food." I said simply.

"You might be right after all." He hummed "So, should we order something tonight?"

"... I'm still saving money..." I looked away.

"And I'm already indebted to the cafe beneath the Agency… I suppose that's either instant noodles or crab can tonight~"

He had tricked me again…

After eating frugally yet another evening and taking a relaxing bath, I unfolded the futon I borrowed from Dazai and let myself flop down on the mellow blanket, exhausted. Unexpectedly, my friend lied next to me.

"What are you doing…?" I questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm too lazy to go to my room…~ Besides, can't I stay with my friend~?"

"You've never done that before…" I noted. Is there a reason for your sudden behaviour?"

"You're wrong…" He chuckled, pulling a book out of nowhere "We've already been in a similar situation… Numerous times…"

"Cancelling my ability doesn't count…" I looked away.

He sighed slightly and casually started flipping through the pages.

"What are you reading? The same book about suicide methods again?" I asked, changing the subject.

"A good book is still good, no matter how many times you've read it~ Should I try committing suicide like this?"

He showed me the weirdest picture; a man sat in a large can, legs above his head. The method was supposed to kill him by eventually ripping his body in half. I stared at Dazai.

"Do you want my approval or my opinion?"

"I already know you won't give me your blessings for my suicide~" He grinned "Just tell me what you think~"

"Well… The chances you die are very low… It looks more like a… Torture method to me…"

"Eh? So it's painful…?!" He exclaimed, dramatically "I'm not trying that then…"

"I hope not…"

I took a book too, a mystery novel, and tried to distract myself from his annoying humming. I wanted to solve the crime before the fictional detective, but hearing Dazai sing next to me did not help me focus. After a moment, I put the book aside, and turned towards him. He had not turned a single page.

"Dazai…"

"What is it, Ogawa…~?"

"Let's get changed. We're going out." I said, standing up.

"Eh? But I've already taken a bath…~" He whined.

"Don't question it."

I should have doubted that this day would be strange, and that he would feel even more bothered by his usual torments. While he was putting his shirt on, I called the Fox.

"Do you know what time it is…?" He grumbled.

"Early enough, since you're awake." I smirked "I need you to find me something important… I need them in an hour…"

When I told him what I wanted, he yelled at me, but it was quick to hang up and avoid his scolding.

"So? Where are we going?" My friend asked me.

"You already know the answer…"

A shadow clouded his face, and he simply nodded. It had already been three years since that tragedy, yet it still seemed as present in our mind. Softly, I opened the door for him and called a taxi. It was dark, outside, a moonless night only enlightened by the stars and the lampposts in the streets. In that part of the world, humans still had the luxury to protect themselves against the monsters of the darkness.

The Fox was waiting for us in front of the cemetery, a bouquet of white lilies in his hands. As he gave them to me, he whispered:

"You owe me one."

I only nodded, and asked that we were left alone. Far from the entrance, under a majestic tree, which branches gently flustered with the wind, laid a single gravestone which bore the name of Dazai's late and most precious friend. When I looked at him, despite the lack of light, I saw he was expressionless. And motionless, too. I took his hands into mine, and placed the bouquet into them with a smile.

"This is important for you… Take all the time you need."

"... Thank you… You remembered…"

"In all honesty, I thought you'd slack off to pay him a visit, today… I'm sorry I was wrong…"

"Don't wait for me and just… Go back…"

I pulled the key to his apartment from my pocket.

"You know, I closed the door earlier. And…"

I placed them in his coat.

"I can't go back if you have them."

"Ogawa, I —"

"I'll be just at the entrance."

Surprisingly, the Fox was still there when I went out of the cemetery. I grinned at him.

"So~ What can I do to repay you for your help~?"

"Aren't you tired, Ogawa-san?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, and crossed my arms.

"What's with the sudden politeness? It's unlike you to be so formal…"

"I thought you might take me more seriously like that."

His face was severe. It was the first time I saw him without a childish expression and, suddenly, he did not seem like a teenager anymore. That reminded me we were the same age.

"Alright. Tired of what, Fox? I'll answer you, just… Drop that "-san"... I'm not used to it from you…" I gave up.

"Sure, I didn't plan to call you that endlessly anyway." He shrugged "Just tell me… How long are you going to pretend you're happy?"

"What are you talking about? My life really has changed for the better. I never thought I'd reach twenty-one years old, in the first place and I can even control my ability…" I sighed "Everyone in the Agency is so friendly, and I'll finally get treated for that damn morphine addiction, how can't I be happy…?"

"Well, since humans are all different, we all have various ways of being happy. Ogawa, I'm afraid your own happiness revolves a bit too much around… Him." He pointed at Dazai with his chin.

My friend was joyously chatting with the tombstone, as though his surroundings had disappeared, and as though I did not exist anymore. In his world, there was space only for him and Odasaku… I smiled slightly.

"You look as though you revealed me the purpose of my existence." I chuckled "I already know that, unfortunately… But he is my precious friend, the one I want to be happy…"

"At the cost of a fulfilled life of your own?"

"Nothing will fill the emptiness in my chest, except for his smile, maybe… I'm touched that you are concerned about me, Fox… But I assure you I am fine."

"What's the point of fighting so hard to earn the right to live, if it is to give it all up to a person who doesn't even see how soaked in blood the heart you give him is…?" He angrily shoved his hands in his pockets "Don't you ever tell me I didn't warn you…"

"I promise I won't." I giggled "You remind me of someone, a man I knew… I think you could call him my friend. Behind his rough facade is hidden a very sensitive poet…~ He usually had the right words to put me back on track…"

"Let me guess… You didn't listen to him at all…?"

"Am I so predictable?" I laughed "You're right, though… I didn't listen to him… So, I became addicted to morphine, then entered the Armed Detective Agency to be with Dazai… I don't regret it, nonetheless."

"I see… So you're the type who doesn't care about advice. That's good to know…" He mumbled "Anyway, let's talk about business."

"Mmh. I do owe you a favour. Do tell me what it is." I said, leaning back on a wall.

"In fact, I've been meaning to make that request to you a moment ago, but that's just the opportunity I needed." He told me, pulling a picture out of the pocket of his jacket "I have a friend. We grew up together, then got separated. I lost my parents and… Forget it. He's now a brilliant chemist, and he wants to open a laboratory in Hokkaido for his research. The government already agreed, but the locals aren't too fond of the project. He's already survived three assassination attempts… Could you protect him, please?"

"Being a bodyguard, eh…?" I took a look at the picture "You know I'm not bad at this kind of job. Well, I'll accept your request. I've been meaning to visit Hokkaido, after all…"

"I know. That's where I told you your sister is…" He remembered "Will it be alright for you?"

"I never said I'd meet her… What is your friend's research about?"

"It's complicated, but I think he's working on a formula to create petrol, you know… Instead of importing it."

"That's a very polluting business… I do understand the locals…" I frowned "I don't want to support him…"

"I know right? It's just… It's been more than five years since our ways have drifted apart… When he reached out to me, I couldn't help agreeing despite being powerless… I thought I could count on you." The Fox rubbed the back of his head.

"Of course you can. I'll handle the case for you. You've done so much to help me, I can't refuse a friend's request either." My lips turned upwards.

"I knew working with a detective was the best…" He snickered.

"That's because you work with the best one." I winked "I'll leave as soon as possible, maybe in a week."

"Oh, you're going to start therapy tomorrow?"

"... How do you know…?"

"You told me you would get treated soon, and I guessed you believed you'd feel better after a week, which is wrong, but I can only support you from afar." He shrugged.

"Why don't you work as a detective, too?" I laughed "I know it's going to be hard… But I'll manage, somehow. I have to… I'm this close to getting rid of that disgusting habit of mine…"

"Is that so?"

I nodded, and shivered. Although it was a summer night, the sudden breeze felt cold, and I tightened my tattered coat around me. My last trench had been ruined by my first case for the Agency and, since, I had only been able to afford an old, second-hand one which had already been well-used. Before buying new clothes, I needed to have my own place. These holes were not a bother to me, anyway…

"It's almost two…" The Fox noticed "If you start your treatment today, you may want to sleep, Ogawa… Otherwise, it'll be unbearable for you."

"Are you worried about me? That's so nice~ You're showing me your soft side today~"

"I've been worried about you since the first day we met…!" He suddenly raised his voice "Even though you were wearing a mask, your hands were so thin, and your clothes looked too big for you. And when you spoke… You would frequently pause to take your breath. You regularly came for the Mafia, and I do worry about my customers. If they die, I can't be paid…"

"... Was I really like that…?" I muttered "Whatever… I'm glad to have such a caring friend~"

"... Are you never going to take me seriously…?"

"I do take you seriously. However, as I said, you need not concern yourself with me. I am and will be fine."

"Idiot…"

It was touching that he cared about me to this extent. Five months ago, when I had come to him again to seek his skills as an informer, I had been such a troublesome customer, I had believed he would never want to work with me again. Thanks to Uemura-san, the Fox had dedicated his time to the cases I managed for the Agency, but, more importantly, we had gotten closer, to the point of becoming friends who playfully teased each other. However, I had never predicted that he would be so concerned about me. He had gone out of his way many times to help me out, going as far as finding Ruriko-chan and giving me, without charging me, all the information he had gathered about her life. I had not considered that I could be a person one could ever care about… It did feel nice, and I was ashamed that I had not, indeed, taken his feelings seriously.

We remained quiet, listening to the peaceful night of Yokohama. My eyes closed, and my ears were filled with sounds of all sorts. Above us, the wind danced in the tree leaves, gently accompanied by the distant song of the sea, which gently undulated under the thick veil of darkness covering the sky. Even Dazai had stopped chatting to silently honour his late friend's memory. The lamppost which enlightened the space around us started flickering, tired and old, before suddenly turning off. We moved towards another one, without a word.

I thought time had stopped, suspended by the beautiful concert nature was offering us, but I noticed I was wrong when I raised my eyes and saw the sky had cleared up, slowly taking its usual blue shade. That day would be a sunny one, I thought when my gaze fell onto the clouds coloured in warm orange watercolour by the rising sun. It was already dawn… We had spent the entire night out, and I had not gotten a single minute of sleep, unlike the Fox, who had succumbed to Morpheus as soon as we had moved to another lamppost. He was still standing, arms crossed and faced down. One could think he simply closed his eyes, but his slow and heavy breathing betrayed him. So, the best informer of Yokohama had the special skill to sleep anywhere, at any moment and in any position… It was a valuable one, yet a weakness he would not want his enemies to know of. This was proof that he trusted me… I could always use this information to tease him.

"... Is it… Already morning…?" He mumbled, sleepily.

"It seems so…"

"He's still not done…?" He frowned "For f*ck's sake, he made you wait the entire night and —"

"It's important to him… That's his late friend's death anniversary, after all…"

"... Aren't you his friend too…? And a living one, on top of that…!"

"Fox, it's enough… I'm tired, I can't bear your shouts so early, this day…" I stopped him.

"Right..  I'm sorry." He shoved his hands in his pocket "Well, do as you wish. I have work, today, so I'll head to my place. Thanks for accepting my request, by the way."

"You're my friend, it's my pleasure." I assured him.

He glanced at me, a strange, indescribable feeling reflecting in his eyes, before turning around and walking away. I could understand why he disapproved that I supported Dazai; any sane person would have already gone back to sleep, after all, and I knew no one who would be able to wait as much as I had. Even so, I felt it was my duty to be with him, from afar, so I could be there when he would be tired and broken by this peculiar night. It had always been my role…

I jumped in surprise when I sensed a coat suddenly covering my shoulders, on top of mine.

"I'm sorry, Ogawa… You must have been so cold… And it is the start of your treatment, too… I'm sorry…" Dazai apologised.

His hands did not leave my shoulders, and I pleasantly felt warmer, simply by being close to him. I smiled, gently.

"It's alright. I promised I would wait for you, after all. Besides, I wasn't alone. The Fox kept me company. He left just a few minutes ago." I told him.

"Is that so…? That's good."

"Yes… Are you ready to go, now?"

"Mmh. I'll go back to my place and slack off as usual~ What about you?"

"I guess I'll come with you. Yosano-sensei said she'd be waiting for me in front of the dormitory anyway." I told him.

"I see… It must be ready then~"

"What is…?" I raised an eyebrow.

"That's a secret~" He chuckled "Let's go~ I want to see the face you're going to make~"

"I'm a tad afraid of what I'll see though…"

"I can't say a thing~" He hummed, putting his hands on his hips.

He would usually put them in his pockets… But…

"Dazai…! Your coat…!" I followed behind him.

"You can keep it, I'm not that cold~"

"It's barely six a.m.…! There is no way you aren't cold…!" I protested.

"I'm not taking it back~"

"Dazai…!"

[emeraldtawny]

My Ikemen Vampire OCs

Been a while since I’ve done anything with OCs and I’m not sure if I’ll be using these boyos in fics or the like. I just wanted to add my own suitors based on some historical figures that caught my attention and thought would be cool to bring back as sexy vampires uwu~

Picrew used can be found here.

Marco Polo

Thomas Jefferson

Sigmund Freud

~Details under the cut~

Marco Polo

The Wide-Eyed Explorer

Adventurous x Oblivious

“Life's all about finding something out there in this great wide world that hasn't been discovered yet. How about it, Signorina? Want to take the risk with me?”

An explorer renowned for his treks from Europe to Asia, his documentation of his travels are known the world over. Yearning for knowledge yet grounded in his ideals, he enjoys exploring this “distant future” of 19th century France and pauses to marvel at every detail and moment he can. He accepted the taste of immortality so he could further explore the world. However, the dynamic, rocky expanse of love is one journey even the great Marco Polo wasn’t prepared for.

Birthday: September 15th

Height: 177cm (5’9”)

Occupation: Merchant

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

Hobbies: Exploring, Collecting trinkets (hoarding), Taking notes

Dislikes: Staying indoors

Specialty: Storytelling, Charisma

Weaknesses: Lying

Favourite Food: Pasta

Hated Food: Ginger

Pet: Monkey named Viaggio

Random Tidbits

Wears two dangling coin earrings, as a symbol of the currency he knew before learning of and introducing paper money to Europe.

Responsible for bringing noodles - and consequently, pasta - back to Italy. One of his proudest accomplishments, he says.

Gets incredibly pouty when people doubt his memoirs or if he even made it to China at all.

Is endlessly fascinated by the different culture of this “new world” and will ask endless questions to gain knowledge.

Gets flustered and oddly prideful over how many other important figures of history looked to his experiences to guide them (Of course, he is most proud of the children’s game named after him).

Most of his memoirs were written in prison and by his cellmate. *A/N: hmmm, I wonder who comes back to smite him :3*

Is uncharacteristically frugal and likes to hoard any “unique” treasures he finds (most of them are commonplace items, but rare to Marco).

Favourite Place To Bite: Shoulder. He just gets incredible pleasure sinking his teeth into the flesh of the shoulder, and it works in tandem to muffle the groans that threaten to slip through his lips as he feeds. And if they bite him back on his shoulder, he is gone. His arms will always be snaked around their waist and whether he’s pressed against their back or front, he’s absorbed in his feeding so fully that sometimes he doesn’t know when to pull back until it’s too much.

Associates With:

Leonardo - The pureblood quite enjoys the boundless vibrant energy of his fellow Italian, and is more than happy to show him around the city and listen to the younger man’s detailed recounts of what he’s seen. They fuel each other’s insatiable need for new things to learn.

Dazai - Enjoys teasing him for his cluelessness about the world. The mansion’s residents don’t know whether to intervene, as both seem oblivious to the other’s intentions in their odd conversations.

Sebastian - Usually on the butler’s bad side for the constant clutter of “souvenirs” he always returns with. However, is rewarded with the whimsical story recounting of THE Marco Polo, so it isn’t all bad.

How He Met MC

After MC had attended dinner and was making her way to Comte’s room, she almost gets knocked off her feet as she collides with someone whilst lost in thought. Things fall to the floor and she quickly apologises and kneels down to help pick up the fallen items. As she lifts her head, she’s met with a head of white wispy locks and kind ice-blue eyes staring back at her behind his round spectacles. He takes the things back from her and they both return to their feet. “Grazie Mille, Signorina.” He says through a grin. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you there. You must be new around here.”

“Oh, um--”

(Is he a famous figure of history too? He looks nice enough.)

Her thoughts are cut off as Sebas comes into the hallway and seems ready to scold the young man for bringing in another assortment of useless trinkets. He pouts a little and says that these are unique and a brand new discovery that he must look into for their use. Sebas sighs, notices MC and asks if he has introduced himself to her yet. He blinks and exclaims in realisation before turning back to MC with a sheepish, boyish grin.

“It seems I forgot to introduce myself to you, Signorina. My name is Marco Polo. I’m a merchant and an explorer.”

(M-Marco Polo?!)

After MC learns the truth about the mansion and its residents, she’s on her guard as she walks aimlessly around the mansion, avoiding everyone she can for fear of them biting her. She stops as she passes the archive at the sound of a happy tune being hummed. She peeks in to see Marco cross-legged on the floor with a pile of junk in front of him. Yet the way he’s observing each piece makes her believe every single one is an irreplaceable treasure. He adjusts his glasses and inspects the map in his hands with an inquisitive gaze, his excitement of a new discovery at his fingertips vibrant and infectious. 

She’s so lost watching him that she hardly realises that she’s entered the archive, her feet naturally bringing her towards him. He stops humming and turns to meet her curious eyes with a wink.

“Oh! Perfecto! Just the woman I was hoping to see!”

He says it so heartfeltly that she feels her heart leap.

“Would you happen to know what these are? Since you’re from the future, you’d likely have a better idea than me.”

She hesitantly sits down across from him, still unsure yet compelled to help him, the kind, yearning aura surrounding him too strong to resist. [First CG of them looking over the pile of junk. Marco gesturing wide as he imagines the uses of a simple silver spoon and MC staring at him like “...it’s a spoon, not a lightning rod.”]

As she listens to him, she asks him why he finds joy in collecting these everyday items. He blinks at her...before bursting out laughing.

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious!”

“Ah, I’m sorry. Really I am. It’s just I never get tired of hearing that question. To me, that question means that there are people out there who have grown accustomed to what’s around them. So much so that something they see every day has lost its beauty to their eyes. I truly believe that everything out there - discovered or not - has a story, a meaning. No matter how mundane it may be, everything has a unique beauty in this world.”

(That’s...such a wonderful outlook on life.)

...

Thomas Jefferson

The Repentant Sinner

Awkward x Earnest

“I cannot see the merits of wanting to get to know me. So, why can’t I stop you from doing so?”

A diplomat and a scholar, the one thing Thomas Jefferson cannot say he is versed in is the art of conversation. Despite this, he isn’t shy. He simply prefers to observe and document what is around him. Intelligent and soft-spoken, he seems to be more driven in his immortal life despite his tremendous accomplishments in his human life. What so greatly motivated him to be reborn as a vampire?

Birthday: April 13th

Height: 190cm (6'2")

Occupation: Diplomat don't mention the P-word

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

Hobbies: Writing, Violin

Dislikes: Public speaking

Specialty: Writing documents (in silence)

Weaknesses: Conversation, His reputation

Favourite Food: Vegetables (selective vegetarian)

Hated Food: Liver

Pet: Mockingbird named Quill

Random Tidbits

Can speak 4 languages (English, Latin, French and Italian) and can communicate through writing in a further two languages (Greek and Spanish).

Wears multiple rings and a wrist cuff on his right hand, as he had dislocated his wrist in his human life yet the bones failed to set right when healing. The discomfort continues as a vampire, though less painful.

His voice is quiet, mellow and of a tenor pitch. He can barely string more than three sentences together unless speaking in private and about a topic he is knowledgeable in.

Developed mild insomnia since becoming a vampire. Coupled with his periodic headaches, some days he will be completely inconsolable.

Enjoys writing and listening to his mockingbird sing in the comfort of his room.

Completely freezes and nearly breaks down when reminded of the dark underbelly of his legacy.

Has no less than four feather quills on his person wherever he goes.

Favourite Place To Bite: Fingers. Feeding on a body part with a smaller surface area helps him pace himself and prevent more harm than necessary. But he truly enjoys piercing his fangs into the tip of the index and middle fingers, giving a cursory suck before withdrawing and taking the fingers into his mouth to suck them that way; he doesn’t wish to harm anyone with his bites if he can help it. Of course, sometimes he can’t help it when he’s lost in bloodlust.

Associates With:

Isaac - Enjoys his quiet companionship. They usually sit in the archive together, working on their different projects in complete silence.

Napoleon - Occasionally goes to the Frenchman requesting a feather from his eagle to make into a new quill. Napoleon agrees under the condition he helps him teach the schoolchildren, something he begrudgingly agrees to.

How He Met MC

The first time she meets Thomas is at her welcoming dinner. She baulks slightly at the height of him and the broad set of his shoulders being accentuated by his perfectly fitted dress shirt. He meets her gaze and nods politely towards her before taking his seat and idly staring down at and fiddling with his rings. She whispers to Napo if she somehow offended him, but he assures her that that’s just how Thomas is; not the best at striking up a conversation. 

When introductions come up, he’s one of the last to speak and definitely the least enthusiastic. He clears his throat softly and makes eye contact with MC, his gaze oddly intense as if forcing himself to meet her eye.

“Thomas Jefferson. Diplomat. A pleasure.”

(Thomas Jefferson. He was important in American history if I remember correctly. Can’t say I know much more than that.)

When Sebas (and Arthur) get it through MC’s head that she’s now in a mansion of vampires, she immediately runs out of the kitchen and just panic runs. She ends up in the foyer and almost collapses with relief because she can finally escape this place. Before she can reach the door, however, she realises there’s someone else right in front of the door, pacing back and forth as if in a trance.

(Oh great. They have someone on guard as well? Even more reason to get out of here!)

She tries to slip by, but the man notices her and stops his pacing to stare at her, saying nothing. MC feels overwhelmed by his gaze and starts to shake. His eyes widen and he goes to reach for her.

“Are you--?”

“Get away from me! Vampire! Monster! Don’t touch me!!”

She swats his hand away and makes a break for the door, but Thomas grabs her around the waist, pinning her arms down. She thrashes and begins to feel tears pricking her eyes when Sebas emerges. Thomas turns to him and asks him to take the young lady to her room. He immediately releases her from his hold and whispers a soft “I apologise for scaring you.” before walking back to his room with long strides.

Back in her room, she reflects on what happened and realises that his grip on her wasn’t tight enough to harm her and instead, he was likely as panicked as she was.

(Even if he is a vampire, it was clear he was trying to protect me. And I called him a monster…)

The next day, she asks Sebas to show her where Thomas’ room is so she can apologise to him. Sebas says to try the archive instead and shows her the way. She knocks on the door and peeks inside. 

Sitting at a desk and brandishing a feather quill, Thomas writes like his life depends on it, his eyes - while still heavy and tired with dark circles - seem focused with an intensity that leaves MC dumbfounded. [First CG of him deep in his scribing, unaware of the pretty lady who watches him with her attention rapt.]

(He writes as if he’s possessed. I feel like if I interrupted him now, I’d be ruining the very nature of his being.)

She waits until he lets out a soft sigh and sets down his quill. When he finally notices her presence, he blinks, a deer in the headlights. His mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

“Um...can I help you?”

...

Sigmund Freud

The Cold Elitist

Analytical x Insatiable

“Such honest eyes. Yet such boring simplicity in your actions and thoughts.”

An Austrian neurologist whose work helped to shape modern psychology. His work with brains and how they shape our conscious and unconscious mind - his book The Interpretation of Dreams using his own brain as the study - made him observant and insightful; in a holier-than-thou way in most cases. He is private and distancing, yet fiercely loyal to those he deems worthy enough to be close to him. His own findings concluded that personality and unconscious thoughts cannot be so easily swayed. Until he meets you...

Birthday: May 6th

Height: 180cm (5’10”)

Occupation: Neurologist (despises the term psychologist being attributed to him)

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

Hobbies: Smoking cigars, People watching, Reading

Dislikes: Being referred to by his first name (Call him Freud or you’ll get one hell of a death stare)

Specialty: Psychoanalysis, Picking apart people’s thoughts

Weaknesses: Accepting defeat or wrongdoing, Smiling through his eyes

Favourite Food: Artichoke

Hated Food: Anything American

Pet: Frog named Ego

Random Tidbits

He has a pet frog because of his early work as a medical student, where he studied frog brains to determine the difference between vertebrate and invertebrate brains. And named his pet after one of the terms he coined of the human psyche, representing the balance of our desires and morality.

Used to smoke cigars heavily, so much so that he developed mouth cancer which led to his eventual human death. Picked the habit back up again after being revived as a vampire.

Had a therapy dog when he was human. Sneaks pets to Vic and King whenever he can.

Was quoted saying “The goal of all life is death.”, yet accepted the offer to be granted eternal life (he chuckles bitterly at himself over this fact).

Was a firm Shakespeare sceptic and remains so into his vampire life. Any conversation he has with Shakespeare usually ends with him bad-mouthing him in German and proclaiming that the Earl of Oxford was the true writer of his plays.

Continues to write books about his discoveries, yet keeps them unpublished.

Is joked as being sex-obsessed (by Arthur of all people), but stands by his claims that sexual wishes and desires play into how a person’s mentality is shaped.

Favourite Place To Bite: Stomach. The way the muscles flex and spasm around his fangs is exquisite in every meaning of the word. He enjoys slowly sliding the blouse up, letting his hands trail slowly to feel the goosebumps that prickle on the skin, before biting right on the curve of the waist.

Associates With:

Comte - The one man who may call him by his first name. Feels indebted to him for another chance at life.

Mozart - Short yet calm conversations between the two Austrians happen every so often; about what, who can say?

Arthur - Pesters Freud for psychoanalytical techniques he can incorporate into his Holmes novels. Gives him the bare minimum to leave him alone. Absolutely loathes the nickname the Brit gives him (“Siggy”).

How He Met MC

When MC first encounters him, Freud is at the dining table with Mozart, Theo, Vincent and Isaac. As soon as he hears the commotion and she enters for dinner, he abruptly stands and leaves without a word, only sparing a cold stare that she feels in the pit of her stomach.

Her first true encounter with him is after Sebas tries to tell her that her housemates are vampires and she runs into him in the hallway. She notes that his eyes of metal run just as cold as the first time she met his gaze, but she still tries to greet him (Comte told her about him briefly at dinner, saying his name is Sigmund). When she addresses him as such, his lips twitch in distaste and harshly tells her not to call him that.

Being MC, she bites back a little, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

”For a meek little thing, you certainly try to bark, don’t you?”

“Hey, I don’t need another person in this mansion referring to me as a dog!”

“Hm. Very well then, Rotznase.”

(Did....did he just call me a brat?!) *A/N: no, MC. He called you a snot-nosed brat*

She goes to bite back again, but something in his eyes stops her dead. Like they can see into her soul, see the exact way her brain ticks. He exudes a harsh aura that makes her want to run, but the power of his eyes on her has her paralysed, like a predator staring down its defenceless prey. He scoffs at her before asking if she knows what he is. When she doesn’t respond, he sighs in annoyance before grabbing her by the throat and pushing her against the wall, hard. [First CG of this kabedon-strangling hybrid. 2/10, not sexy and probably hurts too much.]

”You’re a foolish little girl. And unfortunate in your luck. If you had crossed paths with any of the other beasts in these halls, you may have gotten away with nothing more than nightmares.”

His hand on her throat tightens, constricting her windpipe and cutting off her air supply, the petrified horror in her eyes only increasing as he bares his fangs to her.

”I am not a lenient man, I never have been. And this is no dream. You’re just an unlucky human. No offence intended.”

Just as his hand tightens further and he leans over her, Arthur of all people is the one to save her. He grabs Freud’s collar and yanks him back, barking at him not to scare the bird. Freud only gives an annoyed huff before strolling away as if he never had any part in it. MC loses strength in her knees and passes out from fear, and Arthur brings her to her room before heading to Comte to tell him what occurred.

The following day, Comte invites MC out to the garden for a chat. He confirms that the residents are all men of history brought back from death as vampires, and he apologises for Freud’s less than savoury approach at drilling the message in.

”Listen well, ma Cherie. The men in this mansion may be vampires, but they all show restraint. Sigmund, however, is an unusual case. He is prone to frenzies, where he’s so consumed with bloodlust that he cannot control himself. For your own safety, I would suggest having as little contact with him as possible.”

[fionavargas]

◊ ♫ ◊— look what the cat dragged in! that’s FIONA VARGAS and SHE is an around 29-year-old REGULAR to the store, but they’ve been in the neighborhood for 6 YEARS. I think they are a PUBLICIST and I overheard them listening to GINGER by BROCKHAMPTON, and, I dunno man, it seemed pretty fitting. Like, call me shallow but I look at them and think of JULIANA HERZ and A GLASS OF RED WINE WITH EACH MEAL, RISING AT 6 AM AND GOING TO BED AT 2 AM, EMAILING IN THE MIDDLE OF CONVERSATIONS and WILD LAUGHTER WITH HEAD THROWN BACK AND EYES CLOSED. (ooc info: minnie, she/her, est, 24)

• Your mothers are unbelievably disappointed in you from the beginning. You do not chuckle and coo in the palm of their hands; you bite the fingers that feed you and beam wide when scolded. Fearless child, darling girl — who taught you to love like that, by testing their limits and choosing to accept only what comes with blood and struggle?

• You learn to fight for everything: yourself, your mothers, your friends and your success. It’s not uncommon for a born and bred New Yorker, this hunger in your eyes and the way you tackle life with abandon. It’s your kindness that sets you apart from the others. You are never numb to the pain of those around you; like a moth to a lantern, you float to those with the heaviest burdens as if to help them shoulder their suffering.

• But strangers are easy. You never stick around for long enough for them to grow tired of you. You share a meal with them, you listen to their stories — and then you leave. It is, you’ve learned, the best way to spare people from your relentless spirit, that aching for something visceral. Something to haunt you, something to quiet your wanting for more.

• (SLUT SHAMING TW) The kindness rots in your mouth when you are sixteen. You fall not in love with a boy, but in boredom. He is the flavor of the month, and you like the way he tastes. When you tell him you’re pregnant, he promises to stay; and because you are used to being the one who runs, you don’t expect him to leave you, first. It’s quick and cutthroat; he paints himself as the victim with a few well-planted rumors. You are, suddenly, the girl who cheated. The girl who found a college boy and wanted too much at the same time. The worst part of it is that even you can imagine it happening. You have never been one to deny yourself what you want; you have never been one to look back before running towards desire.

• (MISCARRIAGE TW) When you lose the baby, you feel sick to your stomach with relief. You are not ready to be a mother; you are not ready to even tell your mothers. When they find you with hands sticky with blood, they weep and ask you: why did you try to go through it alone? You have no answer for them. I’ve always felt alone, you could say. Instead, you tell them: I didn’t think about it. You wonder if they’ll read between the lines and find your heart between the branches.

• You rise from the ashes because you must. You meet the eyes of the might-have-been-father and curse him and his ugly, crooked penis. The rumors and accusations do not pierce your thick skin, and soon, they forget. You may be alone now, a pariah, but even this, you mold into a ladder to climb. You become the star pupil, one of the school’s brightest. You receive acceptance letters from many Ivy League universities, but you choose New York University. This city is your home; you can’t bring yourself to leave it behind. With a degree in journalism, you think you’ll change the world by bringing the truth of these forgotten and untold stories to the light.

• But public relations pays better, and you find yourself following the scent of money. You become a publicist at one of the top agencies in New York City, dabbling in several industries along the way: travel, technology, food and wine and entertainment. It’s in music where you shine most, and (SEXUAL HARASSMENT TW) when your boss conveniently places his hand on your ass at the holiday party, you quit and pursue a career as a freelance publicist for musicians.

• It is a long and dusty road, with few people to hold your hand and light the way. You struggle, first. Over and over, you make fatal mistakes: you overcharge, undercharge, overwork, under-prioritize… Each one is a chip in your armor, but you ignore it by throwing yourself deeper into your work. There are one-night stands to distract you, friends who try to hold you tight but are forced to let you go. Your mothers try to talk to you, but they are only a reminder of how deeply you want to make them proud. Your beautiful and endlessly kind mothers, who want the best for their daughter but don’t understand what you want. If you cannot be understood, then you cannot be loved — this, you feel deeply in your bones. You will only accept love that is proven through sweat and blood and tears.

• One pro-bono client — an indie pop band in desperate need of exposure — turns things around. The main singer finds herself involved in a scandal that blows out of proportion, and you handle it with grace; for have you not been in her shoes before, as well? Don’t you understand what it means to have a thousand arrows engraved with your name as its target? You protect her ferociously, and bring them out alive. Along the way, you fall in love with her. You swallow it down, in the name of professionalism and your own ambitions — the only god you’ve ever followed.

• You climb the ranks and become a sought-after publicist, and this affords you the luxury of choosing only those you believe in. With a small circle of clients, from undiscovered bands to pop sensations, you build a life gilded with gold and luxury. But when you look around you for someone to share it with, you come up empty.

[lilliagradiewrites]

baby pogue (part 1) pogue life

Series Summary: Lily Routledge is John B’s fourteen year old little sister, making her a pogue by default. After Big John’s death, John B is left responsible for his sister’s safety and well being. he enlists the help of the pogues to keep himself from cracking under the pressure. A rising freshman, Lily finds herself to be mature and independent. John B, on the other hand, sees her as the exact opposite. A young girl wanting to be grown -up like her brother’s friends, and an older brother begging the girl to not grow up too fast. A collection of stories from the life of Lily Routledge: the littlest pogue.

A/N: I’m so hyped to begin this new series!! Each part of this series will be a little different. Some will be longer like a classic fic, and others will be simply headcanons. These don’t need to be read in order!! Each is a separate story, just with the same characters. This will have a little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff, but will overall just be a cute and wholesome collection of stories:) Iw ill create a masterlist once I upload more parts! I hope somebody enjoys this series :)))

Part Summary: Lily learns that pogue life isn’t as easy and carefree as she thought. (kind of an introduction type beat)

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, mentions of death, dirty jokes/sexual innuendos, swearing, mentions of weed and underage drinking. (pretty much what’s in the actual show lol)

(i did not proof read so i apologize for any mistypes or spelling mistakes! if you see one don’t be afraid to point it out!)

let’s do it!

------

     Lily Routledge didn’t mind the pogues. Not at all. In fact, she loved them. Each and every one. She cared about each one of them in different and complex ways, but she loved them all nonetheless. 

     First, there was the unofficial leader of the group: John B. Lily’s older brother. Of course she loved him. She loved John B more than she loved anybody or anything else on this planet. They’d been through hell and back two times over, but had still managed to make it through. though they fought like cats and dogs, Lily would take a bullet for her brother, and she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do the same.

     Then there was JJ Maybank. John B’s right hand man since third grade. Jj had also been through hell and back, but on his own. Lily had been made aware of his “home situation” since she was little. The blond would come over, beaten, bleeding, and bruised. When she asked questions, “home situation” was the only answer she received. As Lily grew older, she deciphered the what the statement meant by herself. Over the years, she had come to love JJ like a brother, and thought he was one of the strongest people she’d ever met.

     Pope Heyward. At this point, his name spoke for itself. Known as the poster boy for success in the cut, Lily knew Pope’s name before she knew him. Being Heyward’s son was helpful of course, but Pope had created a name for himself. He was polite, well-raised, respectful, responsible. He was astonishingly intelligent, and always did wonderfully in school. So, Lily couldn’t help but be surprised when Heyward’s boy joined the pogues. 

     Next comes Kiara. Where to begin? Kie was a kook, no doubt, but had the heart of a pogue. While most girls of her age and class had a soft spot for designer dresses and high heeled shoes, Kie’s soft spot was for baby sea turtles and the environment. Lily was endlessly grateful for Kiara. Not having a mother figure in her life was difficult, and it was wonderful for Lily when Kie swooped in like the older sister Lily had never had. Kiara had taught the youngest routledge everything she knew about boys, life, and being a female. Lily felt as if she could never repay Kie for her help.

     Finally, there was Sarah. Sarah was the kook princess, known throughout the whole island for her stunning good looks and rich parents. Somehow, she and John B had fallen in love, beginning Sarah’s journey with the pogues. At first, Lily hated the blonde. But only because Kiara hated her, and Lily was faithful to Kie no matter what. When Kiara learned to tolerate her, so did Lily. The three girls became quite close, and the two older girls fought to make sure Lily was included. 

     Lily didn’t even realize she was also considered a pogue until Kie told her that she was.

    “I am?”

     Kiara rolled her eyes and smiled. “Of course you are! Not only are you John B’s little sister, you’re our friend.”

     Lily had attempted to act as if this proclamation didn’t affect her, but it did. A pink crept into her cheeks and she couldn’t hold back a smile. Kiara had noticed and grinned right back.

     Lily had grown up with the pogues. When her father was taken from her, she felt as if she had been blessed with a group of loving older siblings as a form of compensation. She looked up to the group with admiration and slight jealousy. They could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. John B and JJ hardly went to school, even though John B made Lily go. Kiara’s parents trusted her wholeheartedly, meaning she could spend the night wherever without prior plans, and could go wherever she felt like going. Sarah’s parents had their own issues, and couldn’t be bothered with worrying about what their daughter did. Pope’s father was a lot more strict, but Pope seemed to get away with everything anyway. 

     They were young and wild and free. Lily longed to be like them. Whenever they went out to the marsh on the HMS pogue, and Lily had to stay home and study, she reminded herself there was only a few more years before she could join them. Be them. Truly be a pogue.

     She expressed these thoughts to her brother over a dinner of 79 cent ramen one night. John B furrowed his brows at what his little sister had said.

     “Is that really what you think? You think we do nothing? All day long, we drink and smoke and hang out on the boat? That’s what you think?”

    Lily simply nodded, shoveling nooddles into her hungry mouth. John B shook his head and set down his fork. By this, Lily could tell she was in for a lecture.

     “No, Lily. That’s not what we do. Me and JJ don’t go to school anymore because we can’t afford it. We have to work. In order to stay alive. If i went to school, we’d starve. We’re so damn lucky we own this house, and have our own water source. We’re damn lucky Uncle T pays our phone bill. If he didn’t, we’d have gone completely broke months ago. I work so hard, every day, and can barely pay our electricity bill. I can barely feed us. It’s not fucking fair. These kooks own million dollar houses, with three vacation homes in other states, and they can’t pay me enough to feed my little sister. 

     And Kie? her parents care. She’s had to prove herself trustworthy. And Kie works her ass off constantly at The Wreck. She’s come crying to me so many times, worrying about the resturant being understaffed. But they can’t afford any more staff. She’s struggling too.

     And don’t even get me started on Pope. His dad works him to the bone almost every day. Delivering shit across the island, and then coming home and studying for his merit scholarship for hours. Heyward is constantly on that kid’s ass. He’s going through it.

     And, yeah, Sarah’s life may seem perfect. But it’s not. It’s far from it. Sure, she doesn’t have any financial struggles like the rest of us do. But her Dad’s a dickhead who hasn’t paid any attention to her for years. Her older brothers’ a drug addict and a violent asshole. Her stepmom’s a bitch. Her life may be easier, but it sure as hell isn’t easy. 

     We’re all fucked up, Lily. In astronomical ways. We drink and smoke and go out on the pogue to take some of the edge off of life. We do that shit because we’d break down if we didn’t. I make you go to school to keep you safe. You’re smart, Lils. Smart like Pope. You could get a scholarship or something. You could make it out of here. I don’t want this life for you. You deserve better. But you have to work hard, okay?”

     By the end of his rant, John B was crying. Lily moved over to him and hugged him as he sobbed into her shoulder. After a few moments, John B pulled away. “I don’t let you do shit with me and my friends because I love you too much to let you in on the shitshow that is our lives.” 

     Lily nods. They finish their food in silence. Eventually, John B announces he’s going to his room for the rest of the night. The siblings said their goodnights and i-love-yous before retreating into their rooms.

     That night, Lily sat in her bed and cried. Everything she’d thought was a lie. How could she not have seen how they were struggling? She wished she could help, but knew that she couldn’t.

     Being a pogue wasn’t perfect. Not at all. They may not have money, or good parents. But they had each other. Always,without fail, they had each other.

   That, Lily decided, was enough.

-------

A/N: There’s the end! This ended up being much longer than I anticipated and I kind of don’t like the way it turned out. It’ll get better I promise!!!! Thank you for reading it, if you did. If you could reblog i will be so thankful <3 more parts are coming soon! I hope somebody actually liked this haha. Please drop feedback/tips/words of advice in my asks, anon or not! I welcome all comments, whether criticism or praise :) 

WAIT! Before you go I just wanted to remind you that you are so so so loved. Never forget that. You are beautiful and incredible in every way. Please never let anyone tell you otherwise. You are unstoppable. And you are loved <3

[sariastrategos]

Shout out to @janzoo and my wife for reading all my shit for me.

This all started in a conversation with my wife @mimicryoctopus where we were talking about how sweet and soft Geralt is and how AWFUL most people are to him. It blew up into a 1400+ word headcannon. I’d been playing the game and every random npc was saying the MEANEST things to him unwarranted, like honestly my feelings were hurt FOR him.

I just needed someone to show Geralt a SMIDGEON of kindness.

Like some mother figure just sees him eating a weak broth in the tavern because it’s all he can afford, not even any meat in it, and drags him home, gives him a proper stew. While he’s eating she digs out some of her husband/son’s things to give him.

And he doesn’t know what to do with the kindness, can barely remember what he’s supposed to do with the stew and he's so thrown. But eventually he lets himself be led to a chair by the fire, his bowl refilled twice and a mug of ale sat on a little table next to him. He thanks her, a little awkwardly.

When she comes out of the curtained off area that must be a bedroom and hands him some clothes he’s confused. She takes his empty bowl and puts them in his hands. They’re not new but they don’t have a use around here anymore and they’re still in good condition. He holds the rough fabric and asks how much she wants for them, because she must want something. His entire life, nothing is ever given to him, not even the amount of coin agreed upon for a job. She tells him letting her take care of him is all she needs, they’re a gift.

And he tries to argue but she firmly refuses to take anything from him, not even the few coins he has. She just refills his stew and ale and happily drapes a blanket on him, even though he’s right by the fire and puts out heat like a furnace.

She won’t take anything but Geralt isn’t blind and he sees the state of the little cottage. There’s holes in the roof that need fixing, the door is off kilter from its hinges. So he agrees to accept the gifts so long as he can do a few things in return.

She doesn’t want to accept the offer but she can’t fix these things herself and he’s just as stubborn in returning the kindness as she is. So she lets him climb on the roof to fix the tiles, straighten and repair the hinges and door. She warms water for him to wash with and takes to mending his ragged cloak so it isn’t so frayed.

He washes, changes into the new clothes and she takes his old ones to wash and repair. She’s thankful her husband was on the bigger side, his shirt fits comfortably over Geralt’s large frame.

He agrees to stay for dinner but says he’ll provide the meat and goes out hunting. Comes back a few hours later hauling a deer that he makes quick work of, stretching out and cleaning the skin so she can sell the hide, carving the meat and setting some to dry so it won’t spoil. He intends to leave most of it here for her, only taking enough with him to hold him over in case hunting is scarce between this town and the next. or in case the next town drives him out before he can even get a meal.

They talk over dinner and late into the night. It’s the most he’s talked in years but he finds it easy with this woman who took him in and cared for him. Asks about her family and listens when she tells him how her husband was a farmer that got caught up in the war and died, her son married and half the continent away. He tells her what he can of the road, stories of monsters he’s killed and people he’s met. There aren’t a lot of fond memories, although he has a few that leave him chuckling. Mostly things he and another Witcher, Eskel, got punished for together back at Kaer Morhen when they were young. Most of his fond memories are winters at the fortress, about Vesemir, the closest he’s had to a father, about his brothers. And she listens with a smile on her face.

He avoids stories about the hardships as much as he can, glossing over rocky receptions and times he wasn’t paid. She knows this and doesn’t press. Wants this to be a nice evening for him.

It gets late, she offers him the bed but he quietly declines, happy enough with the blanket and floor. She puts what extra blankets she has on ground anyways, so it’s at least softer for him. It’s the best sleep he’s had in ages, warm, relatively soft and with a full belly.

He’s surprised at how sad he is to leave the next day but he only had enough to stable Roach for the one night. He retrieves her and returns to say goodbye. A first for him. And finds she’s loaded his bags with all she can spare. A jug of ale, plenty of the deer, a few potatoes. She’s rolled up an extra blanket that she insists he take, as well as any other of her husband's clothes she can find.

She pulls him in for a hug and whispers “Take care of yourself”. He wraps his arms cautiously around and says “you too”. Holds her a moment longer before letting her go and walking away. He looks back twice and she waves each time.

He decides he’ll visit, someday.

He does. At least once a year. Brings her game and repairs what’s falling apart. Hides coins he can spare around her house. She feeds him, mends his clothes, talks, listens, laughs with him. He brings her little trinkets, tells her she can sell them but he always sees them on the mantle when he visits. She takes to making him new clothes, always black, but she sometimes embroiders little things on the hems of his shirts that will get tucked in, it’s not for decoration, just for them. Just a show that she cares to take the time.

He’s furious when he finds out her son doesn’t keep in touch. She maybe gets a letter every few years with a brief update. She has three grandchildren she’s never seen and barely knows anything about. She stopped sending regular letters years ago since she never gets replies.

He finds out where he lives, pays him a little visit. He doesn’t threaten, not really. Just says it would be nice if he could write his mother more frequently. It would make them both very happy. Maybe visit. He knows the roads are dangerous, especially with children, but offers to escort them. Escorts her a few times. The happiness in her face when she meets her grandchildren is added to his small collection of good memories.

He starts sending her letters, starts receiving bundles of them in the last village before Kaer Morhen. Spends all winter rereading them and makes his way to her house first thing when the snow allows them to leave in the spring.

It’s the longest he’s stayed in touch with someone who isn’t one of his brothers.

He reluctantly brings Jaskier to meet her. He’d mentioned her a few times and Jaskier’s curious, been pestering him about this woman that makes him smile when he talks about her. He hopes Jaskier won’t be too much, too energetic, she’s getting very old. He brings extra meat to feed them all. He needn’t have worried, she delights in knowing he isn’t alone anymore. She’s heard the songs Jaskier’s been singing for years and she hugs him immediately, thanking him for all his hard work.

Jaskier’s energy is toned down but very welcomed and he’s enchanted with this woman that’s taken care of Geralt for so long. They gossip and gab for hours, lots of it about Geralt who sits there trying to look surly but inside he’s warm and happy that they get along. There’s music and laughing and they stay for a week.

Geralt finds out Jaskier visits even when they aren’t travelling together. Brings her stories and music from around the continent. Sends her letters and has her send her replies to Oxenfurt where he has friends to hold onto his mail. She makes him simple sleeping clothes, she doesn’t have the money to make him any of his usual fine things. Embroiders some handkerchiefs for him.

He treasures everything as if they’re made of the finest silks and brings her sweets and good stockings, a pretty shawl he came across at a market that my dear, you would look simply stunning in! He sings a few songs about the kind old lady who cares about strays and laughs when she smacks him for calling her old and her lovely boys strays.

She knits them both hats, scarves, mitts and even sweaters when she can get enough wool. Worries endlessly over them in the winter and they’re terrified every year that she won’t make it through. So they pool their money and when they visit in late fall Roach is pulling a cart with thick blankets and warm furs. They’ve bought her a splendid wool cloak, heavy and warm and as much dry goods as they could get their hands on. They spend a week making sure the house is in the best condition possible, no drafts or gaps, make sure nothing is amiss and stock enough firewood in the shelter to see her through into late spring when they can come back.

In return she makes them baked apples and squash soup, pours them ale all night. She presents them with their new clothes and they agree to call everything early solstice gifts.

On their last night they roast nuts by the fire and Jaskier surprises them both by mulling wine. Geralt didn’t know how he’d gotten his hands on the sugar and spices but the drink was delicious. They talked and laughed and ate until the wee hours of the morning when she couldn’t keep her eyes open and they shooed her off to bed. Geralt added another fond memory to his now surprisingly large collection.

Geralt never says it out loud but he thinks of her as family.