#it's a if he prepared to go on a proper adventure

[billpottsismygf]

Space Babies! Weird episode, but it had a charm. I had already prepared myself for the fact that RTD's era was notoriously camp and weird, and that I would for the first time be experiencing new episodes by him as an adult rather than as a 9-13 year-old, so it's not news to me that there would be some campy nonsense with a deeper message, and that this might be more jarring than I'm used to. The deeper themes were really thrown out (refugees, anti-abortion hypocrisy, genocide, capitalism) without being dwelt on, but that's not necessarily a problem.

The babies themselves were... a little unnerving? The mouth movements were quite uncanny, along with their voices and the general "I love you, Ruby!" of it all. I've just now made the connection that the latter puts me in mind of adverts for baby dolls.

The gunky snot monster felt very early 2000s British children's TV. If you weren't there for that, just know there was so much slime; think Slitheen exploding. I am very glad it got rescued. Nice message with the Doctor not usually running from things just because they look scary and, even though this is a creature specifically manufactured to be scary, it still deserves a shot at life.

It feels like a strange story to start with because I suspect it'll have mixed reviews. I would think you'd want a slightly more solid episode to draw people in with. Anyway, there was still a lot of thought put into making this a proper jumping off point with all its Doctor Who 101 stuff. Funny for a long-time viewer hearing it all rattled off in record time, but important to establish for new people, and I do think it's important for the show to remain accessible to people who haven't been obsessing over it for twenty years or more.

As a jumping off point, it very specifically reminded me of The End of the World. There's the big observation deck on a space station where the new companion, in her second episode and first off-world adventure, gets her phone updated so she can call her mum, in particular. The parallels to Rose are interesting, especially with the lecture the Doctor gives Ruby about how they can't travel back to meet her missing parent(s).

Speaking of that, there's some intrigue there with the snow appearing and the memory changing. I didn't like the Doctor doing a DNA scan of Ruby without her knowledge. It feels very 11th Doctor, especially when he literally scanned Amy and withheld medical information, but also the way he treated all his female companions as mystery boxes to solve without telling them. I guess we'll see what that's all about at a later point.

I'm still not completely sold on Millie Gibson, but Ncuti Gatwa is wonderful, and I do really appreciate their chemistry.

Small things:

Jocelyn was a good character, and the Nan-E filter made me laugh several times.

That place name before the Doctor turned the translation circuits off was absolutely not in English. Slightly weird way to phrase that line if it's going to be called Pacifico del Rio.

This is a very early point in the series for Ruby to get a TARDIS key! We're really speedrunning the usual steps here.

[writingcold]

Bound

AU Jake X Chris slash 

A/N: At the announcement of Mirador, and that first picture of Jake and Chris, my brain went to the following blurb. I have been working on an AU currently titled The Dead. This story is about soulmates that have been cursed to live apart - and at the time of story, they have lived many lifetimes apart. Within the story there are 6 versions of our Jake set in many different eras, just as there are 6 different versions of Maéva - the Y/N character. It has been so fun to write! But I am rambling. The point is, the following blurb is just ONE of the lifetimes that Jake has across 400 years. I was only going to share it with a few friends, but then @katuschka, @its-interesting-van-kleep and @thewritingbeforesunrise really have thrown their support behind me and this blurb. The rest I’ve shared with - you know who you are - are such an amazing group, so I hope they enjoy the revisited blurb. I’ve cleaned it up a bit, polished it, honed it a little more. This will NOT be in the story proper, it’ll be mentioned, but not known to the main character. At least at this point, it is not. Our secret. And as always, thank you to @edgingthedarkness for listening to me carry on and on and on and on… and on about this story and being so patient with me over the mess that it is. 

***This is an 18+ story for adults only. This is a blurb of Yakov Petrov (Jake) and Christian Hertel (Chris Turpin inspired). It is an AU set in time when Michigan was voted in as a state.***

Content warnings: Sexual situations m/m, oral, unprotected sexual situations, a little angsty (of course, and loops back to the actual story), a touch of Yakov (Jake) being a brat.

Word count: approximately 2600

Journal Entry - Yakov Petrov, June 1862

     The commission had come in August of 1854 to survey the new territories of the northwest. Christian had reservations, but the money would be good, lodging and food was included. He had enough hands to set out like a grand jungle expedition into the wilds of the unexplored lands of the United States. I did not understand his reservations. To set out into the wilderness that only those native to the land had known? What adventure. What a privilege to see and paint and study. But, my Christian was the one who gained the commission, not I. It would be his decision to go and his decision to take whom he felt would be fitting to the project. Just because we shared our appetites with each other, did not mean that I would attend the expedition. 

     We had boarded the ship in Boston, May of 1855, that would take us first to New York, then up through the St. Lawrence Seaway, into Lake Ontario. We’d then follow the Niagara River to Lake Huron. From Lake Huron, we’d find ourselves on the Detroit River to finally push our way into Lake Michigan. Detroit would be our destination for a fashion. Christian had called it our last stop of frayed civilization before traversing into the untamed wilds of the north lands. 

     I will not be untrue - being aboard those ships brought me a joy from the core of my spirit, but a mournfulness as well. I felt this joy to be old, sunk down in the marrow of my bones and beyond me in a way that was confusing and best forgotten the moment my feet touched the land of Detroit. We were housed in what was considered a grand house of the region, but after such luxury in Boston and Philadelphia, I was finding myself holding my tongue from spoiled and rude comments. A tent in the grand garden of our townhome would have been more comfortable.

     A month of those conditions prepared us for the path before us. We had native guides and set out with a troupe of sixteen hands to carry and maintain our academic venture. Christian was a marvel in his organization of those men. He wanted to start at the northern point of Sault Ste. Marie. That meant more travel by water, which was fine. The commission demanded each step be documented - not just in paint and charcoal, but recording for scientific reasons, the flora and fauna, the animals, the geography. All of it was to be recorded and sent to Washington, DC, for study. That was to be our nature of work, and we would follow it to the letter.

     My foot touched the aged pier of Sault Ste. Marie and I felt an illness within that I could not explain. Christian wanted to send me home to Boston, I was so taken. I took to a bed in a passable inn and shook with a fright that I could not shake. It was in my blood. It invaded my breath. I sent Christian on with the promise that I would catch up if he were to leave me a guide. I was behind him by weeks, only, but in that time, my soul seemed to cry over the wild, windswept land that was this already old place. I found myself walking upon the grounds of a once great shipmaster’s house that overlooked the great lake of Superior. The French manor house that barely clung to its elaborate balconies, was a ruin. It was a ghost of memories that seemed to dance and toy with any and all who passed it by, eliciting the imagination of grand balls and fancy turns of women’s voluminous skirts. 

      It was on this scrap of field that I felt it for the first time, an ache that would go on to haunt me the rest of the journey. I set up my easel and painted what I saw: the town and the port beyond this desolate beauty that hurt my spirit for unknown reasons. Perhaps it colored my stroke a bit, leaving me with a melancholy piece that once set, was boxed and housed to make its way back to the capital. This ache was ever present as I finally was well enough to move across the peninsula to catch up with Christian. It was a dogged feeling that I knew this land as sure as I knew myself. Odd, as I never had been anywhere except the grand cities of the east coast.

     It was a reunion of quiet touches and catching up when I did finally reach the party. My Christian was always so enigmatic when it came to our relations. He might one day grasp me by my whole body and not let go without a laugh and caresses that were never hidden, while the next, may only be in the form of a clandestine brush of the back of his hand against my thigh. I did not mind. It kept me guessing and intrigued and returning to him for more. This reunion, however, he walked away from me as if upset. I followed him, calling his name like a wounded puppy might.

     I followed into the deep woods, where the light dappled on the ground as if fighting to penetrate with its goodness. I suddenly realized, goodness was not meant to see what he needed, nor wanted from me. His mouth crashed into mine with a carnal anger that left me breathless and needing more. No coherent words passed between us. Only desperate touches and demanding utterances graced us as he nearly tore my clothes from my body. His fingers knocked my hat from my head and his eyes stilled in absolute offense.

      “Damn it. Why did you cut it, Yakov?” he growled as he discovered my hair much shorter than when he had left me.

      He tugged it at the roots, pulling my head back to expose my throat to him. He ravaged my skin, leaving not an inch untouched. My man knelt in the black dirt and sucked me down, leaving me ruined and ready for him and only him to love as only he could love me. He kissed and lapped and ground his mouth on me until I was nearly weeping and close to orgasm before he clutched me with a kiss that was full of passion. He wrapped his hand around both of our girths and began to rub hard. Feeling his cock against mine was one of my favorite things, and to have him eye to eye with me, reading my face as he fed my need was near otherworldly. My love poured out on the air in my sighs and moans of pleasure.

      He turned me, helped me to find my hands on the gnarled bark of a tree. His mouth sucked at my shoulder with promises of love and adoration as his cock found my entrance. And he loved me. He penetrated me in a hard press that filled me with a desire that no one had ever given me. He loved me. Each in was demanding while each out was a caress and need for more. Yes. He loved me. And when we both reached a pitch that could no longer be staved off, we danced in ecstasy as our high crescendoed into a shared gratification. He held me and I held onto him in the dirt. Our skin was inflamed with joy and our words gentle towards each other. 

     My fingers tangled in his sun kissed golden hair and smoothed across the manicured mustache that resided over his lip. How many days had I woken to this face only to be so enraptured by it each and every time. And he looked upon me the same. His fingers in my dark brown threads, even though I had cut it quite short, and across the hair on my chin. Always with such love. Always with such care.

     We worked our way across spidery waterways. Through dense forests and broad meadows. One word was always on my tongue - beautiful. There was no green like it on the wind battered east coast. Surely, this virginal green was unlike anything on this fledgling continent. It was strong against the eye, yet the wind pushed it as if with a whisper of promise of what settling it would provide. Eagles, in grand mass, relegated in towering pines, while the deer were thick in numbers, grazed unaware of the dangers that were to come. Industry was waiting. It was our purpose to sell the dream of this ground to industry. Christian both hated the idea, but loved it for what riches it would bring to the region. Hated for it would surely be destroyed under the bootheel of man. Loved it, as he captured the most natural golden beauty through our work.

      We had been in the wilds for well over a month. We pushed our way south, sketching, recording, painting. Day after day brought something new to be cataloged. Something new to be puzzled over. But most of all, captured. We were capturing the spirit and nature of this land. 

      The cold came swiftly in this region. Our party was forced to choose - build cabins and wait out the harshness of winter, or try to rush to the south and east to Detroit before the ice bound up the land and winter there. Christian ordered for cabins to be built - we were to settle and capture a winter’s season in the new land. We were not the only ones in this region. A new village was chartered and was beginning to grow as the last of our timbers were set in place for our shelters. I spent hours sketching and painting - even putting in the men as they labored. Frankenmuth. They were going to call the village Frankenmuth, so I titled the painting as such.

      I knew hard winters. I knew winters where the sun seemed to extinguish itself for days on end and the ocean would lash at the shore in unrelenting undulation that was sure to tear permanently at the land. But this - this winter in this land of Michigan was beyond me. There were moments of crystalline beauty and desperate cruelty of storms that lingered. Christian laughed at my poetic rendering of what was around us, but it is what it was. Horrid. But beautiful. 

      The spring of 1856 was slow to thaw. Despite there being still snow on the ground, Christian and I were out, wrapped in heavy furs and easels in hand to sketch the landscape. It was midafternoon before I realized that he had put me into the picture he created. I laughed at him as he gazed at his work with an eye that I knew well. He was smitten with me, still. He had started to apply paint here and there, but he left it unfinished as my ministrations to him had become too blatant for him to ignore. My usual trick to get him to love me rather than paint me.

      On the eve of our resumed expedition, he held me with the lament of wanting me to be his forever. He wanted to marry me as he would a wife. He seemed so adamant and passionate about it. We were together, that was enough for me. 

       He became sullen and started to argue with me. He pulled away and it was as if the Earth was pulling away from the moon. He was unconsolable in the moment about how I was changing with this land. I was changing? How? He said to look at his drawing, how I looked to the land like it was my lover. I was baffled. He said that I would talk in my sleep about love. At first he thought that it was himself that was causing my midnight sighs and caresses. 

     “Unless my name is suddenly changed to Maéva, I doubt very much that it is I who is featured in your deepest dreams, Yakov,” he had argued.  

     “But if you’re angry about dreams, surely you see the absurdity of your argument,” I fought back, showing that I was totally unaware of what he was talking about.

      I smoothed back his hair, dragging my fingernails over that patch of skin just behind the shell of his ear. I watched as he quivered under my touch. I pressed kisses to his furrowed brow, cooing and whispering my love. I promised that I would be his husband and he would be mine in our hearts. It would be enough. I took his tongue into my mouth, sucking it hard enough to elicit a soft chirp. I relished the taste of his creamy skin, passing my mouth across the sparse, downy patch in the middle of his chest. 

      “I want you to quit cutting your hair,” he growled as I found his cock with my lips. “Why do you cut it when it’s so pretty?”

       I pressed behind his ball sack hard as I slid my mouth up the shaft with a saucy pop. “Ever think it’s to make you upset with me, Chris?”

       His eyes pinched at the edges as I looked up at him, my chin coming to rest on his thigh. He trailed his fingers down my cheek. I knew what he wanted of me. I knew and so I took him into my mouth until I was downright slobbering. I spit into his entrance as he moaned loudly, egging me on. I wrapped my hands around his thighs to spread him enough for me to enter him. And we made love, face to face.  My eyes roved across his lean body, loving each turn of bone and stretch of skin. The way his mouth stretched with pleasure, and how the head of his cock peeked out as he stroked himself tightly as I moved with confidence within him. I bent, his thighs pressed hard around my hips as I lapped at the precum on his head with a moan of satisfaction. The hard inhale of breath and I knew one more trick to send him into another plane. I swirled my tongue over the head as I pressed in, snapping my hips into his rump. My fingers dug at the meat of his flanks as I dragged my tongue over the softness of his belly, circling across his nipple before sinking my teeth into the flesh of his shoulder to unravel each other until we were a complete mess.

       In the darkness, he slept well as I held him close. I listened to his breathing for hours. It was shame that kept me stirred. He was not wrong about how this land was claiming me. This woman - Maéva -  was haunting me in my slumber. The meaning of it was so blurred. It made me hold to him all the tighter. It was him that I loved. I belonged with him. He understood me best. Yet, this woman was a memory of deep time. She belonged to another time, another existence. I knew it deep in my bones, just as I had felt the joy of crossing all those rivers to come to this land. But my heart was cleaved in two, wasn’t it? A fractured shard that belonged to one that was not in my time of now. It was that piece that I could never surrender to my Christian. And he was mine. I pressed my face into the mass of golden hair to allow his perfume to swell around me. He was mine.

I hope you liked my tangent here into Yakov’s life. It was such a tangent that strangled me, and continues to play in my brain even though this is pretty much it for Cake Lane in this story. I’m not sure when The Dead will be ready to go. Life has been so busy, making writing time sporadic, but I’m getting there. I will be putting out a new tag list sign up when we’re closer to release, but for now, this will remain tag-less as it's just a one off. Until then - happy reading, happy writing, happy creating!

[leatherbookmark]

I'm starting to like it here I think

[comfortless]

what if König does see his knight being more ladylike? or maybe even in a dress? sorry they’re just so cute i love this au lol

you are never getting her into a gown… not ever.

except at a special event (:..?

There’s a summons for König and the lady knight to attend a ball. At the castle, no less. The sheet of parchment dents weighty in her hand as she tugs it free from the message board at the center of town— a list of names, hers and König’s included; quite high, too, above even dukes and duchesses from foreign kingdoms and a wonderful knight who had braved an attempted siege and won the King victory.

It makes no sense… they’re essentially hired thieves, roaming through caverns of filth filled with the dead, stealing what’s never been their own and never will belong to them for profit. There’s no honor in their work, despite the way she puffs her chest in pride and so often declares that one of these expeditions will earn her a seat at the royal table.

Still… they had retrieved that object for the Queen, and it seemed the materialistic royalty deemed that well and good enough to consider them worthy.

König is unperturbed— he’s never been one for these formal affairs, dressing up in a tight fitting suit of ruffled fabric, chest adorned with a shimmering brooch and his blade kept tucked away far out of reach. His knight on the other hand… Her face is practically glowing, he’s never seen her smile so wide or so sweetly.

Of course… she doesn’t have some silky gown to her name, only cold steel and endless straps… not even a proper corset. König can’t help but notice her pout when they begin to prepare. Though he thinks she’s pretty, perfect even as battle-worn she is, it’s clear she wants to be more so as she stares longingly out of the window of the inn at all of the beautiful ladies riding on horseback to approach the castle gates, their gowns each as intricate and immaculate as the braids and curls and lengths of their hair.

He doesn’t get it- he’ll just go in his normal clothes, but like any proper suitor would do… he buys her a gown from the tailor a few buildings past the inn. The most expensive one he can get his paws on with the hoard of gold they collected from their last adventure. (Who knew slaying a few reanimated skeletons to give a cursed femur and jaw bone to an old witch could count as a job?!)

The dress is certainly… tailored to his preferences: it’s a lacy thing, dyed a shimmering bluish gray, creamy lace trims along the cuffs and hems, the collar dipping down into a ‘v’ to properly frame her tits. He didn’t expect it to be any lovelier than what his imagination supplies when she does put it on, and yet he finds himself utterly stifled by the sight.

He’s seen her nude, pawed at and groped her hundreds of times, but as she stands before him shyly lifting the dress at her hips and glancing at the wall, the floor, anywhere except from directly at him… his pulse begins to race. Of course, he picks her up and buries his face against her neck, whispering about how pretty she is, how much he adores every new side of her, and promptly ruins it by detailing how he would like to tug her laces loose with his teeth later in the evening after the dancing is all over. She shoves him away, hissing like a startled kitten but he’s certain she casts him a little smirk the moment that he does relax his grip.

The ball is no less extravagant than she had expected. Food and luxury wine adorn every table: cheeses, fresh baked bread, smoked meats and pies, fruit of many kinds, and the wine all sweet and bitter and so very unlike the thick mead that burns as it goes down that they’re accustomed to. The dresses, the elaborate dances, the beautiful sounds of music feathering through the air- all of it. She even gets to drink from a goblet made of silver, and her eyes light up when a servant fills it to the brim.

König despises it all.

He tucks himself away, flooding himself with food and the few gilded pitchers of actual ale he’s managed to threaten a servant into retrieving. He notices the eyes on her always, as she dances with the other ladies and smiles adoringly over at him each time their eyes meet. Her grace translates well here from battle, each step taken with some extracted precision that she’s learned from flailing her blade around in the darkness… her partners giggle against her ear as they curl their arms around her, many adrift to either side waiting for a turn.

It’s only when a man does approach his lady knight that König’s had enough. She’s tipsy and far too cute, stands out like pure treasure amongst this adoring flock, and the bastard’s eyes are on her breasts when he asks her to dance. The other man is yanked back by his scruff and tossed to the marble floor, eliciting startled gasps and even… some sweet sighs from the women surrounding as they fawn over how romantic it must be that a brute like him wouldn’t allow another man near her.

His knight only smiles at him when he leads her away, out of the grand hall and down the corridors of the castle until they find themselves before a window that seems to overlook the entire kingdom. The music still plays, the voices still chatter, but they’re all muffled and subdued someplace far away… and König only feels the world seem to come to a grinding halt when she asks him to dance with her here.

He doesn’t have the same tact or skill as the others when he moves: swaying her in a grip like iron ‘round her waist, dipping with her when her back arcs that almost leaves his face flush with her chest. It’s clumsy at best, far less flowery and sweet than when she danced with the other women, but he tries his best to not entirely ruin her night— unaware that she’s far too drunken and giddy to care. She wouldn’t have batted an eye if he had snapped that man’s neck, if only he rewarded her patience with a dance like this.

They meld together, a perfect fit when she stands on his boots and drapes her arms around his neck to press her chin to his chest. The frolic comes to a quiet end as they whisper back and forth about what happens next, after tonight. When the sun rises and they’re back on their feet… He swears to her that they’ll buy a horse, subtly hints that the offer to settle will always be present and she only shushes him with a kiss, one that she laughs into as she tastes the ale on his tongue.

Those strings are, in fact, loosened by his teeth as she lies on their shared bed with him later into the evening. He traces every dip and curve of her body through the silk as he works away at relieving her of the gown, then the corset with slow, precise movements and tugs. She laughs again when he hisses praises from behind her, licks and nibbles a hot path along her skin, rests his head against the smooth flesh of her back when the corset finally lays to either side of her.

His fingertips graze from the back of her neck, to her shoulder, further along the middle of her back before he stops himself. Despite the near constant ache, this isn’t how or where he wants this done: in some rundown inn outside of the castle, her veins flooded with red wine. Instead, he only pulls her close in a cuddle, massages at her tits as she thanks him for accompanying her, for dancing with her despite his gait being more like a newborn foal than a proper stallion.

And when the moon finally reaches a peak in the night sky, her breathing slow and soft while she rests her head against his chest, he kisses the top of her head and pulls her in closer. Tells her that he likes either side of her, knight or lady it mattered not, so long as she remains at his side like this.

She nods to her own damnation, contentedly swearing her oath to him with one word, “Forever.” It comes in a soft murmur, eyelids already fluttering as he squishes her closer against him.

[miela]

Shattered Memories

Prologue

Pairing: Peter Parker x Silk!Avenger!Stark!Reader Length: Series (Longish, maybe a little over 10 chapters) Series Genre(s): Romance with Dramatic and Comedic undertones (if you squint) Series Theme(s): Fluff, Angst, Smut Series Summary: After Peter sacrificed his identity for the sake of the world, five years go by before he finds you back in his life again. Series Warnings: Mentions of substance abuse, alcoholism, s*icidal thoughts, and possible abusive relationship (not Peter x Y/N) in later chapters. warnings subject to change. Please proceed with caution. Extra Content: One of my OCs are in here! Let me know if you want me to make a character list to reference.

Masterlist

➼ divider by cafekitsune

In the sky there is a crackling sound as a jagged purple band of fluorescent and electric strips open in the air like someone took a knife and cut open the blue of the sky. Peter swung over by your friends, while you swung around the premise of the Statue of Liberty to make sure that no one was left behind from needing to go back to their proper universe. It was a crazy few days. It was a crazy week really. First, going to Italy on the school trip just for it to be interrupted demands from Fury to Mysterio making out Peter to be public enemy number one to this, fighting people from different dimensions just to fix everything.

Just as you thought things couldn’t get any worse, you weren’t prepared for what was next.

“You’re okay!” Michelle Jones-Watson, aka MJ, exclaimed once Peter swung by them. 

They all joined in on a group hug before Peter pulled back from them and studied them worriedly. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, we’re okay.” MJ said with a sigh of relief. 

At that moment you swung down as well as you took off your spider mask while catching your breath. “Well, that was another successful adventure for the Iron Spider Gang!” 

MJ and Ned let out exhausted chuckles with you as Celina smiles big. Everyone looked exhausted and honestly you were exhausted. Your shoulders dropped in relief before Peter grabbed your face gently with his gloved hands, noticing the gash on the temple of your forehead above you eye. His touch took you by surprise as you looked up at him wondrously.

“Oh my god,” He exclaimed as he scanned your face for other injuries. “You’re bleeding…!” 

You had gotten the cut during the battle and you had gotten worse injuries before, and each and every time, Peter got so concerned…even if he was in worse condition.

“Oh this? ‘Tis nothing but a scratch, Parker.” You smiled softly. “I’m sure it’s already halfway healed.”

He looked into your eyes filled with worry and a hint of skepticism. “Are you sure?” He rubs his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks gently and lovingly.

“I’m fine,” You smile reassuringly. “I’m okay, I promise.”

His shoulders dropped in relief. “Okay….okay….good.” He then turned to look at yours and his friends, Ned, MJ and Celina, to make sure they were okay. They all gave him tight and thin lipped reassuring smiles and nods in response.

“Um…We should go then, right?” MJ asked after a moment. 

“Yeah,” You nodded. “I can summon the Quinjet and we can be home in no time.”

For a moment, Peter struggles to find the words to tell you guys the truth of how this mission will end. Thunder echoed in the sky as you all looked up to see the purple rips that dance across the sky. Doctor Stephen Strange, a sorcerer, was levitating in the sky casting a spell that is meant to solve the merging of the multiverse issue. 

Peter let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes and pursed his lips together for a moment before speaking those dreaded words that you never thought you would ever hear in your life. 

 “You’re gonna forget who I am.”

All four of you look at him confused. 

“What?” Ned asked, voicing what all of you were thinking. 

“Forget who you are…? What are you talking about?” MJ added.

Celina cocked her head to the side in confusion.

You, who has been through the craziest of situations and knew that anything and everything was possible due to your thankless job as an avenger, caught on to what he was meaning very quickly. You looked up at the purple rips, to Strange and then to the spell before looking at Peter horrified for an elaboration in hopes that he didn’t mean what you thought he meant. 

Peter noticed your expression and continued. “It’s okay. I’m gonna come and find you, and I’ll explain everything.” 

All your faces fall as you realize that he definitely meant what you were afraid of him meaning. 

“No…”  was all that you could manage coming out of your mouth. It sounded almost pleading. 

Peter cradled your face again and looked into your eyes with determination. “I’ll make you remember me, and it will be like none of this ever happened. Okay?”

MJ, in a slightly panicked state, replied. “Okay, but what if that doesn’t work?”

“Yeah!” you agreed, tearing up. “What if…What if that doesn’t work? What if we can’t remember you? I don’t want to do that. I don’t…I don’t wanna do that, Peter. I don’t want to do that…” You shook your head rapidly.

 “I know, (Y/N),” He cradled your face again and looked into your eyes sadly. “I know.”

“But…Is there not something we can do? We can come up with a plan or something! There’s always something we can do…We always find a way. Always. It's literally our job…!” You began thinking of other ways immediately. “What about…what about…” You were at a loss for words as you tried to scramble up an idea from your scattered brain.

Peter shook his head. “There’s nothing we can do.” He brushed his thumbs over your cheek and wiped away your tears before adding reassuringly. “But it’ll be okay.”

“No,” you say again, shaking your head rapidly again as your vision becomes blurred because of your tears. “No, no, no, no….no, Peter, please there must be another way.” you hold on to his arms with an iron grip as you start shaking in fear. “There’s always another way…!”

How could anyone think that you could accept this? You and Peter always had each other’s backs, especially in battle and on missions. You two were a perfect pair, a match made in heaven. How could you let yourself forget him? 

You wouldn’t let yourself forget him. 

You wanted to graduate with him. You wanted to enjoy the summer before college with him. You wanted to go school supply shopping with him and help him pick out stuff for his dorm room. You wanted to help him move in and set up his room and then spend the rest of the night watching your favorite movies together. You wanted to go to a halloween party with him as you wear matching costumes and be cute together as he introduces you to all of his new friends. You had a plan to make a friendsgiving and you wanted him to be there. You wanted to spend Christmas together and go ice skating and snowboarding. You wanted to move in together and spend the rest of your lives together.

But you couldn’t do all of that if you couldn’t remember who he was now could you? 

“We will find another way.” 

“(Y/N)...” 

“No! Peter, I-I can’t accept this. What if it doesn't work?” You sniffled out as you let your mind race with the possibilities of what could go wrong with this horrendous plan. “You’ll be all alone…”

MJ tried to catch her breath, as Ned’s eyes brimmed with tears. Celina was silently crying. The air was thick but at the same time, it was way, way, way too thin. You felt both hot and cold at the same time and you could’ve sworn your body was going into shock over this.

“Hey, hey…” Peter cradled your face again. “Look at me.”

You looked up at him with sad eyes and a quivering lip. 

 “What’s your name?” He asked.

“(Y/N) S-stark.” You sniffled out.

“That’s right,” He smiled softly. “And what are you?”

“An Avenger.” 

“And what do Avengers do?”

“Save the world,” You replied again, you swallowed hard as you tried to not to scream and sob. “W-we save the world.”

“And how do we plan to do that?” he asked, referring to the two of you.

You recalled the day you both became the dynamic duo of the Avengers. You both had promised that you would always stick together no matter what. You both were two halves of one emotionally and biologically, since you both were bitten by the same spider. 

“Together,” You gave him a small smile remembering the first time you guys made that oath. “Until the bitter end. Like we promised.”

“And I keep my promises, yeah?” He smiled sweetly. “This isn’t the bitter end. Not yet. I will come and find you.” He glanced up at the others. “All of you.”

Ned looked down for a moment before speaking. “You promise?”

 Peter turned to Ned and looked at him with a reassuring smile. “Yeah,” He let go of your face and walked over to his best friend. “I promise.”

Peter and Ned did a bittersweet version of their special handshake. It was almost heartbreaking to see due to how…final it felt. Then Peter pulled Ned into a hug. 

“I’ll come find you, okay?”

“I know you will,” Ned smiled sadly. 

When they pulled back from the hug, Peter turns to MJ and Celina. He goes over by Celina first.

Celina’s shoulder shook as she hiccuped from crying. Peter worried for her since they’ve been attached at the hip since they were little. They were practically siblings and she would be losing the last of her family…and he would be losing the last of his. But he knew she would be in good hands with how strong the bond of your friends group was.

“Hey,” he started. “I know you’ve been thinking about training with Strange. I think you should do it, Who knows you might need to use a spell one day.” He smiled at her and petted her head endearingly. “You’ll do great out there. I'll always be your big bro, Celi.”

Her lip quivered as she nodded and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back and kissed her head. She’s always been like a little sister to him, despite them being the same age. Once she pulled back from the hug she went over to Ned and hugged him as she cried into his shoulder. Peter then turned to MJ. 

“You better come find us.” She sniffled. “If you don’t, I’m just gonna figure it out. I’ve done it before, I can do it again.” She let out a barely-there soft chuckle. “And I will do it again.”

He hugged her for a moment before saying. “I promise I’ll fix this mess.”

He turns back to you again as you look at him and nod knowingly. There was nothing you could do and you knew that this was for the greater good…even if you hated the hell out of the idea of it. 

“You better come find us, Parker. Do you hear me?” You said sternly as you poked his chest. “You better come find me. If you won’t then I’ll come find you myself. And If I have to come find you…I swear to the fucking heavens and Asgard, If I have to come find you…I’ll kick your ass into another dimens-” 

His lips were on yours in a deep, passionate and desperate kiss, and you returned the kiss back while wrapping your arms around his neck. He kissed you like it was the last time you guys would ever kiss and you returned the energy of the exchange. After a moment he reluctantly pulled back slowly and leaned his forehead on yours softly. 

“I really fucking hate magic,” You stated.

Peter laughed softly with a knowing grin. “Yeah,” He replied. “Me too.”

You guys stood there for a moment in each other’s arms in a moment of silence before you spoke up.

“I love you, Peter.” you said to him as you cradled his face as you looked into his eyes.

He looked back into your eyes sadly and endearingly. “I-I lov-”

“Just wait,” You interjected. “Hold on to it and tell me when you see me again.”

“Sure,” Peter responded. “As long as you promise that you won't think I’m some creep and kick my ass.”

You let out a laugh and looked down at your chest for a moment before you pulled at the chain that was under your suit revealing your necklace. You hold it in your hands in a fist for comfort as you close your eyes and sighed deeply with determination. It’s the necklace Peter gave you when you first told you that he loved you. It was a silver spider necklace with two red rubies on it. You thought it was both sweet as heck and corny as hell, but that’s what you loved about it and that’s what you loved about Peter. You unclasped the necklace and looked at it for a moment before putting it in his hand and pushing his fingers down to his palm gently so he could hold it. He looked at you wondrously in response. 

“Give this back to me once you find me.” You smiled softly. “I promise I'll remember you.”

The sky around you all began rumbling even more as the sorcerer did his work. The new spell was taking effect and you wish you could freeze time, just so you could memorize Peter’s face a little longer. Hold his hand a little longer. Kiss his lips a little longer. Although you never took for granted the time you both spent together, it still felt like there wasn’t enough time spent together.

Crazy how things can change in a blink of an eye.

You all looked at the sky for a moment before looking back to each other sadly and eyes full of hope that this was just some horrible, messed up nightmare. Peter and you met eyes and he pulled you into another passionate kiss and you returned the kiss back. After a moment he pulled back again, hating the idea of having to do it.

“I promise, I’ll give this back to you.” He whispered, trying not to cry. 

“I know you will,” You smiled sadly. “Or else I’ll take it back from you instead.”

He let out a choked laugh. 

“This isn’t goodbye,” He added. “Just a see you later.”

“I’ll see you later,” You choked out. “Call me around seven? The usual time?”

He chuckled. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ll explain everything then.” 

He planted a long soft kiss on your forehead before he pulled away and stepped back reluctantly. You let your fingers glide along his shoulders and arms and hands as he moved. You both hesitated for a moment before you held each other's hands for a long moment before letting go. The feeling was heartbreaking, agonizing and agoraphobic. You wanted nothing more than to latch yourself on to him and never let go as if that would force you to never forget him. 

You guys never broke eye contact for that entire moment as if you were trying to find a way to keep the connection between you two alive for as long as possible.

He sighed one last time and jumped onto the ledge you all were standing in behind and looked up at Strange, who nodded at him as a last goodbye. Peter had a knowing look on his face….a look of ultimate defeat and the acceptance of it. He looked back at you one last time, taking in your form like a photograph in his mind. 

Although you would forget him, he would never forget you.

You mouthed “I love you, Peter Parker.” With a reassuring smile.

He gave you a sad smile before swinging off the edge. It all hit you right then and there and you let out a choked sob as you collapsed onto the ground and cried so hard you thought your body was going to explode. You had lost so much…so, so much and now you had to lose something else…someone else.

You don’t remember your friends trying to catch you when your legs gave out on you, you don’t remember the spell passing through you, and it only took a moment before you didn’t remember why you were crying. 

~

[kiarastromboli]

𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧:

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐱 𝐲/𝐧

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘: Stalking (kind of), Jaelous!Matt.

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Matt begins to enter a completely new feeling of which he is clearly not aware: obsession. Wanting to see y/n again in the hope of asking for her number, he will find himself facing something that he won't like, another man who is a little too close to y/n for his liking.

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: Translated into English: Things are evolving gradually, it's only the beginning, and I promise you many emotionally charged events and sensations in the upcoming chapters. In the meantime, feel free to let me know what you think of the new character in the comments.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐞 𝟑

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐:

Friday, generally a day I don't particularly fancy, the day preceding Saturday aka the only day I finish work early.

But this Friday was different.

This Friday had a whole new flavor.

This morning, instead of my usual migraine and dark circles, I woke up in a good mood with a big smile.

Whereas usually I would settle for just a simple coffee before leaving my apartment, I prepared myself a proper breakfast.

Well, by proper breakfast I mean what I'm capable of: bacon and eggs.

Without me noticing, this smile had been stuck on my face since I woke up, and I only became aware of it when I stood in front of my mirror to brush my teeth.

For a moment, I even thought I was dreaming, but no, this smile was very real and genuinely sincere.

All because I knew I was going to see her again tomorrow.

Her, my complex mystery, my vanilla-scented puzzle.

I lived only to decipher her and to know what her thoughts were made of.

It's true, until now, no one had ever captured my attention as much as this girl, she was made for me to unravel.

After getting ready, I went to the bookstore, praying for my day to pass as quickly as possible.

Every time the little bells at the entrance rang, deep down I hoped it was her who crossed the threshold of that door to come see me.

But of course, it was never her.

"Who are you and what have you done with Matt!" Sarah said to me, pointing at me with a banana as if it were a gun.

I chuckled at her action.

Sarah was the only friend I had made while working at the bookstore until now.

I had suspicions about her intentions towards me, and over time, I quickly realized that she had developed a crush on me, but as I said, until now, no girl had really captured my attention.

I'm not saying Sarah isn't pleasant to look at, far from it, she just wasn't my type even though I appreciated her a lot.

"I advise you to put that banana down right away, miss," I said, chuckling, and she raised her hands and dropped her banana.

"Sorry, I didn't know threatening others with my breakfast was forbidden," she said, shrugging before leaning on the counter next to me, and I simply shook my head, smiling at her antics.

"No, but seriously, usually I have to fight with you to even get a hint of a smile on your face!" she said, giving me a playful punch on the shoulder.

"You're exaggerating," I said, rolling my eyes.

She looked at me with insistence.

"What?" I said, chuckling, and started walking towards the shelves to put away the books that were missing.

"What's happened to you? Come on, tell me, I share all my adventures with you, you're not allowed to keep secrets from me like this!" she said, grumbling and following me around the bookstore.

"Sarah, I really have no idea what you're talking about, you seem like a crazy person right now," I said, continuing to organize the books.

"You're kidding me! Since you walked into the bookstore, you've been humming little songs, you're nice to the customers, and you have that damn smile plastered on your face, you're hiding something from me, and believe me, Matthew, I'll find out!" she said, pointing at me with a threatening look.

"I don't know who you're trying to scare right now, but there are customers at the counter, so I suggest you quickly go see what they want before you get fired," I pointed out, removing her finger from in front of me with my hand.

She turned around in surprise towards the counter to see what I had just said, and turned back to me one last time with a threatening look before returning to work.

The rest of my day consisted of Sarah constantly asking me questions and customers coming in to return their books.

It sounds annoying when put like that, but nothing could ruin my day knowing that I was going to see her again tomorrow...

Come to think of it, I didn't even ask for her number.

What if she forgot about tomorrow? I have absolutely no way to contact her.

Maybe I should stop by after work just to ask for her number, nothing more.

"Can you close the bookstore today? I have something important to do, if you don't mind," I asked Sarah when closing time finally arrived.

"Yeah, no problem, I'll take care of it. You can go, handsome," she said, smiling, and I smiled back before leaving the bookstore.

I immediately got on my motorcycle and started driving towards her apartment complex.

Is this a good idea? I mean, I'll look like a creepy guy if she sees me showing up like this at her place when we just met yesterday?

Plus, I don't even know which apartment she lives in.

Am I supposed to wait outside hoping she'll eventually come out? I wondered as I parked my motorcycle outside her apartment complex.

I stood there for a few minutes like an idiot before realizing that this was a bad idea. I put my helmet back on, and before I could get back on my motorcycle, that's when I saw her coming out.

I watched her from afar, making sure she didn't see me. I didn't want her to think I was following her; that would be too weird.

She was wearing a completely different outfit this time.

Leggings that hugged her body really well, maybe even too well, and some sort of tight sports jacket that accentuated her chest.

An all-black ensemble, probably for working out.

I knew she was beautiful, but I didn't expect her to have such a perfect goddess-like body. That thin layer of fabric covering her body only fueled my imagination of what she looks like without all those clothes.

No, Matt, stop, that's inappropriate. I really need to learn to control myself; this girl brings out aspects of my personality that I didn't even know existed.

She stood there for a moment, staring at her phone as if she was waiting for something.

Maybe this was my moment, the perfect opportunity to go up to her and ask for her number.

I could make her believe that I just happened to be passing by and that it was a coincidence that we crossed paths here?

No, that's stupid. Why on earth would I hang around here in front of her apartment complex after work? It doesn't make any sense; she'll immediately know that I came here to see her.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I saw her greet a guy, he was tall, brunette, and quite muscular.

Who the fuck is this guy now?

They seemed close; she hugged him, and her body language changed the moment he arrived.

Does she like him?

Come on, y/n, you're not going to fall for this musclehead. I'm sure this guy doesn't even know the difference between a thriller and a horror novel. You deserve better than that, you deserve me.

I watched them from afar, wishing I could be closer to hear what they were saying.

Meanwhile, she seemed to be smiling at every word he said. Is that really your type of guy, y/n? And what about us? It started so well; I can't let him ruin our story. I have to do something.

They started walking, and I panicked.

What do I do? Do I follow them? Damn it.

Without further thought, I took off my helmet and followed them from a distance.

They walked for about fifteen minutes before stopping in front of what seemed to be a gym.

Interesting, but I don't understand the need for such large windows for a supposed gym.

It seems more like a place for egotistical people who want to show passersby that they have a better lifestyle.

Is that really what you aspire to, y/n? It can't be your kind of thing; I refuse to believe you're one of those self-centered people. You're far too kind and humble for that.

It's probably that big lump of muscle who brought you here, yet another sign that he's not right for you. He doesn't even know you; it's ridiculous.

I stayed there, sitting on a bench on the other side of the street, trying not to attract attention.

I watched them participate in what seemed to be a partner yoga class, and of course, she paired up with him.

I couldn't help but feel this growing hatred towards him; it should have been me in his place.

It should have been me supporting her legs during certain exercises, it should have been me she was talking to about her day or whatever else, it should have been my hands on her body right now. Fuck.

It displeased me to see that, but for some reason I couldn't help but watch them.

I need to learn more about this guy's intentions regarding my y/n. Who's to say he's not some completely crazy guy planning to hurt her or even use her?

When their yoga class came to an end, I quickly got up to reach my bike before they noticed me.

But unfortunately, while crossing the street, y/n must have seen me because I heard her from afar calling my name.

"Shit," I whispered to myself, stopping in my tracks before turning around to see her running towards me.

"Hey!" she said, a little out of breath as she reached me.

"Hi," I said, smiling nervously.

"I didn't expect to see you here, what are you doing here, are you following me or something?" she said, laughing.

Fuck, what am I going to say to her?

Before I could say anything, she started talking again.

"No, I'm kidding," she said, laughing and giving me a playful shove on the shoulder.

I nervously chuckled.

"You're coming back from exercising, I see," I said, trying not to appear too suspicious.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm all sweaty because of yoga, who would have thought!" she began, still laughing.

If only she knew how much her laughter is like music to my ears; this woman is simply radiant.

"Anyway, it was my first time there; it's my friend Caleb who got me into it," she said, pointing to him before gesturing for him to join us.

No, please y/n, don't make him come over here.

"Hey!" he said, with a smirk, as he reached us.

I simply nodded in greeting.

"Caleb, let me introduce you to Matt, my friend from the bookstore, remember I talked to you about him," she said.

She talked to him about me? So, she also thought about me in the meantime. I knew there was something between us.

"And Matt, let me introduce you to Caleb; he's a good friend of mine from middle school," she said this time, smiling.

"Oh, cool, that's nice," I replied with a weak smile.

"Yeah, but she wasn't this tall back in middle school; I remember we used to call her 'mini monster,'" Caleb said, laughing.

"Hey, stop!" she said, laughing and pushing him.

"Anyway, are you planning to get into sports too, man? You could really use it," he said arrogantly.

"Caleb," y/n said, giving him a more serious look this time.

"What? I'm just asking," he shrugged.

"No, I didn't come here to do sports, actually; I just happened to be around; I needed to buy something for my bike, man," I said, emphasizing the word "man" ironically.

And his expression quickly changed; he understood at that moment that I wasn't the kind of person to be walked all over, and it probably didn't sit well with him because he knew he had real competition now.

"Okay! Great, Caleb, we'll see each other later this week as usual," y/n said, cutting us off from our staring contest.

"Yeah, see you later this week, as usual," he said, not taking his eyes off me before turning around and leaving.

y/n and I started walking in the opposite direction.

"I'm sorry about that; it's just..." she paused to sigh, "I swear he's not an asshole; he's really great once you get to know him," she said, biting her lip.

And you're the type to see the good in everyone, aren't you? But do you have any flaws, y/n?

"No worries, it's nothing," I said, smiling.

"Didn't you find what you needed?" she asked me.

"What?" I asked, looking confused.

"For your bike, you said you came to get something for your bike, but your hands are empty," she said, laughing.

"Oh, uh, no, I didn't find what I needed, but it's not a big deal; at least I got to run into a good friend," I said, smiling.

"Are you talking about Caleb?" she said, laughing.

"Okay, yeah, keep teasing me; you're really not funny at all," I said, rolling my eyes, and she continued to laugh.

Unintentionally, I let out a small chuckle seeing her bent over laughing.

"But you're laughing right now," she said, pointing at me and raising her eyebrows.

"No, not at all," I said, shaking my head.

"Yes, yes, yes, look at you, you're holding back; I know you're dying to laugh, come on, let it all out," she said, grabbing both my arms and laughing.

"Y/n, if I may say so, you're completely crazy," I said, laughing along.

"Hey, I won't allow that," she said, pretending to be offended.

We continued chatting about this and that until we reached her place.

"Um, but I said I'd walk you back to your bike; I don't mind walking a bit more," she said when I stopped in front of her apartment complex.

"Oh no, don't worry, I'm parked nearby," I said, smiling.

"Oh... so this is where our little walk ends?" she said again in that softer tone.

Why is she doing this? Why is she changing her tone like that? It makes me want to kiss her. Is that what she wants me to do?

"Unfortunately, yes," I told her, looking into her eyes.

"Well, luckily we're seeing each other again tomorrow then," she said, smiling, and I smiled foolishly in return.

"Not that I enjoy spending time with you, don't get me wrong; I just really like motorcycle rides," she said in a haughty tone, laughing.

"Yeah, that must be it," I said, shaking my head.

"I also really like bikers, well, one in particular," she said, looking at me, and I felt the stress building up.

I felt like an idiot in front of her; she was clearly making advances, and I didn't even know how to respond, even though that's what I wanted the most.

"I forgot to ask for your number last time; do you think it's too late to ask for it now?" I said nervously.

"It's never too late for anything, Matt," she said, smiling before taking out her phone.

We exchanged numbers, laughing like teenagers.

"Well, I think I should head back; I'm still covered in sweat, and I'm dying to take a shower," she said, laughing.

"I won't keep you any longer then," I said, smiling.

We looked at each other for a moment without saying anything before she decided to break the silence.

"Bye, Matt," she said, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek.

"Bye, y/n," I replied, dying to kiss her.

She turned around and went back home.

I stood frozen there and ran my hand over the cheek she had just kissed.

Her lips so soft against my skin.

I won't let anything come between us, y/n, know that from today you're mine, and I'll do everything in my power to have you.

Even if it means removing Caleb from the equation...

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

Taglist: @mayhem-72 @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @bernardenjoyer @whicked-hazlatwhore @nicksmainbitch @vickyzloserz

[anime-simp0125]

Killua Zoldyck hcs

1. The First Date: Killua has never been on a proper date before, so he would be a bit awkward and hesitant at first. However, once he is comfortable, he would take the lead and plan an adventurous date. It could be hiking through the mountains or exploring an abandoned castle; he would make sure it's something exciting and out of the ordinary.

2. No Small Talk: Being a highly trained assassin, Killua doesn't have a lot of experience with small talk. He will always appreciate it when his partner doesn't waste time with meaningless chatter and gets straight to the point. He is not one for frivolous conversations, so be prepared to have deep and meaningful discussions with him.

3. Protective and Possessive: Being the youngest heir of the infamous Zoldyck family, Killua has been conditioned to be fiercely protective of his loved ones. If he's dating someone, he would go to great lengths to keep them safe from any danger. He would also be incredibly possessive of his partner and would not hesitate to show it.

4. Mysterious and Aloof: Killua's past is shrouded in mystery, and he likes to keep it that way. He would not open up easily and would often come across as aloof and guarded. It would take a lot of patience and understanding from his partner to break through his walls and earn his trust.

5. A Partner in Crime: Killua has a knack for getting into trouble, and he would appreciate a partner who can keep up with his mischievous antics. He would love to take his partner on daring adventures and pull off pranks together, knowing they have each other's backs.

6. Affectionate in His Own Way: Killua is not one for grand displays of affection, but he would express his love in subtle and unexpected ways. It could be with a small gift or a simple gesture that would mean a lot to his partner. He might not say it out loud, but his actions would speak volumes of his love.

7. Supportive and Understanding: Killua knows all too well the struggles of growing up in a strict and controlling family. He would be understanding and supportive of his partner's feelings and would do everything in his power to help them overcome their obstacles.

8. The Ultimate Travel Buddy: With his ability to navigate through any terrain and his fondness for adventure, Killua would be the perfect travel buddy. He would take his partner on memorable trips, showing them hidden gems and experiencing new cultures together.

9. The Most Loyal Partner: Once Killua finds someone he truly cares for, he would be the most loyal and dedicated partner they could ever ask for. He would do anything to make them happy and would always have their back, no matter what. Dating Killua would mean having a fierce and protective partner by your side, always ready for an adventure and full of surprises.

[after-witch]

My Heart Was Not So Heavy Then [Yandere Spring Spirit x Reader]

Title: My Heart Was Not So Heavy Then [Yandere Spring Spirit x Reader]

Synopsis: You've always known you were going to die in the spring.

Word Count: 8600ish

Notes: yandere, reader is a married woman, misogyny, mentions of expected pregnancies and childbirth, reader becomes pregnant, physical abuse (slapping); some animal birthing descriptions

You have always known that you were going to die in the spring. It was not a fact that you shared with others--you learned very early that such talk was not acceptable. It earned you stares and whispered words and on one occasion, sore knuckles from your mother rapping them with a stick, sternly telling you to stop talking like that.

So you did. 

You pretended not to know that one spring, when the flowers were in bloom, you would die and cease to be. You kept this knowledge with you, a secret in your pocket, but you no longer let it slip from your lips.  You kept your thoughts to yourself between the snow melting and the heat of summer rising, wondering, always wondering: is this the spring? 

And if you grew up with death woven into your thoughts, stitched like embroidery into your heart, was that so bad? You still grew up. You had friends and played. You learned to read enough to get by and you loved to paint, when your parents could afford the materials, and life was sweet and bitter in all the right turns.

And now you were old enough to marry, though the prospect of it all--marriage, birth, death--seemed almost fruitless sometimes. What was the point? How long would it last? 

You were going to die in the spring. And your husband didn’t even know.

--

You had a beautiful dream that morning. A lovely thing. Hazy--perfect for spring. Something that would no doubt be half-remembered by the early afternoon, only recalled in desperate snatches that you could not possibly hold onto for very long. Not when there were chores to be done and your husband’s younger sisters and brother to mind and neighbors to visit and your mother-in-law to appease. 

Such beautiful dreams were lost in the tumult of life. It was to be expected that you’d never fully retain them past childhood, and certainly not now, married and expected to carry your load in your husband’s household while you waited to start your own. 

When you were a child, the thought of your impending death was almost like an adventure. But now, you’ve found, it makes your heart feel sick with worry. Would it be worse to die before or after you had a child? Should you even have children? Was it wrong not to tell your husband what you knew? 

But you remembered your sore knuckles and the way people stared when you told them, voice high and babbling, that you were going to die in the spring. So you said nothing. You woke up and you ate and you worked and you slept and you dreamed.

Even snatches of beautiful dreams, fleeting and whispered, were better than nothing. 

Your mother-in-law--and you all live under the same room, mother-in-law, husband, wife, and his younger siblings--doesn’t care much for dreams. She told you so, the first time she caught you smiling at the breakfast table, still lost in the dizziness of a lovely dream. 

Dreams are for children, not for married women, she had said. Someone about to have children of their own, running around your feet. Someone who is expected to be a proper spouse, a proper mother, a proper everything.

Best forget about your dreams, is what she told you. And you knew she meant it in every way possible. 

Your husband, Thomas, doesn’t seem to mind your dreams. Figurative and otherwise. When he has a few extra coins in his pocket, he sometimes buys you paints, a little easel. The paints are cheap and the easels need to be carefully prepared before they will accept paint, but you don’t mind the effort. When you’re ready, he always ushers his mother into the house and lets you sit outside and work.

Your paintings will outlive you, and maybe that’s why you like it so much. 

Not that your mother-in-law sees the benefit in any of it. Though you’re glad, at least, that she prefers to send you outside the home to work. Go to town, collect herbs, collect wood to be chopped by your husband or his brother that is old enough to wield an ax. 

You don’t mind that she puts you to work outside the home so much. There will be plenty to do inside once you’re married, she tells you now and then, and even more once there’s a baby in your belly. 

The thought makes you feel already heavy, leaden, like there’s a chain wrapped around your stomach keeping you to the floor… but you don’t tell her that. 

Instead, you briskly step through the threshold as soon as you can, sometimes pulling off your husband’s younger sister who loves you (and you do love her, despite her clinginess, despite the knowledge that you won’t be here forever) and wishes you would stay home with her instead.

But you like the woods. You’re always alone in the woods. There’s nobody here to judge you. For your secrets or your paintings or anything else. 

--

The woods are quiet and not-quiet, all the same. Buzzing insects and the trill of birds and the snap of branches from foxes and deer and perhaps, on occasion, a bear. 

But there are no squealing children, shouting neighbors, or nagging mothers-in-law here. No children dragging against your skirts, no mother-in-law staring at your belly, tsking, wondering no doubt: when will you be ripe? 

Ripe. What a thought. Your hand goes to your belly. You and Thomas had already started… becoming one, as they say, before you were married. You’re not meant to do so, until you’re married. But you were betrothed and Thomas said no one would mind very much, if your belly was a little round at the wedding that winter. But you weren’t pregnant at your wedding. And not now, either. 

You wish you could avoid town for a little longer. And, more wistfully, you wish you could remember your dream from this morning. It was something beautiful and fresh. It made you feel renewed that morning, gave you a spring in your step. But what was it? 

You sigh, ready to turn at the fork and head into town--when you hear it.

A horrible bleat. 

You know that sound, and what it means. 

Your legs carry you quick as anything towards the wild, primal noise, and sure enough, there--on the other side of a fence is a sheep, keeled over on her side, bleating awfully with one fresh lamb sitting at her head. She licks it in between her awful screams and you know that there must be another one still beside her. But it won’t come out.

You hop over the fence and her bleats intensify at the sight of you, despite the soft hushings you give her.  Your hands reach towards her exposed underside and you see the edge of a leg, tiny and jerking. But no matter how much she bleats, it does not progress.

It’s stuck.

You tug your sleeves up to your elbow--they’ll probably get bloody anyway, but best to spare them as much as you can--and stick your arms inside, feeling the wet, squirming gore covering the lamb that refuses to be born. 

“Do you need help?”

Your mind jerks but you force your body to stay still, lest you injure the lamb. You glance up and there is a young man standing in front of you, behind the fence. A stranger. He has chestnut hair that glints a little golder in the spackle of the spring light.

“I--”

The lamb tries to push again, which only seems to make the little thing underneath your hands tremble. But it moves no further.

“It’s stuck,” you say, tongue almost sticking to your mouth. There is no time for introductions or questions when there is a bleeding sheep and a stuck lamb before you. That can come later, as it always does, in times like these. “I need someone to push on her while I move it.” You pause, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Or I need four hands.”

The man laughs and leaps easily over the fence, landing right next to you. When he crouches, the smell of forest flowers spreads, though there is no breeze to bring them. He wastes no time in assisting you, and he must be the son of a farmer, you think, the way his hands deftly manipulate the lamb through the sheep’s thick wool and skin.

As he does so, your hands slip further inside, gripping the slick bloody wool and turning, turning--until there is a little rush of thickened blood and the lamb slides out. There is a moment of silence in which  you think, poor lamb, poor thing.

But it bleats. It lives. And the mother jerks her body up, terrified bleats turning to ones of relief, and soon the stubborn second lamb is joining the first in getting its first mother’s bath. 

“Bluebells,” you say. And then your mouth goes to your lips. 

The man looks at you, and quirks his head to the side. “Hm?”

“Bluebells,” you say again. Then you smile and look down at your hands, covered in wetness and blood and birthing gore. “I… dreamt about them last night. I’ve been trying to remember my dream all morning, and it came to me just then as the lamb came out. How funny.”

He stares at you. You think back to your mother, your neighbor, your friends--the look they gave you when you told them about your spring-induced death. But you just told him about a dream. Why should he look at you so intensely? 

But the look is gone before you know it, and instead he smiles. It’s a toothy smile. He stands, and then extends his hand to you. You glance down at your bloody hands and help yourself up, and he merely shrugs, and lets out a little laugh.

He insists on following you to the farmer’s door, so that you can let him know about the lambs. He tells you that his name is Robert, but everyone calls him Robin, and you can call him that, if you don’t mind. 

You don’t mind, so you do. 

“Did you make a wish?” He asks suddenly, as the two of you make your way up the winding, cleared path between the neighbor’s fences. 

You’re busy wiping your hands on your apron--oh, how Thomas’ mother will seethe at the sight of it. “A wish?”

The man does a little spin as he walks--a spin!--and you can’t help but smile at him. He looks to be about your age, but he seems more carefree than the other men in town. Certainly more carefree than Thomas, who as of late has begun to calculate how much he will need to work, to make, to save, in order to expand his family’s home for your own children. You try not to think about that.

“A wish,” he repeats. “during your dream. On the first bluebell of spring.” 

You laugh, and a cow somewhere on the other side of the fence moos in response. Silly thing. You’re not sure whether you’re referring to the cow or yourself.

“I’m afraid not,” you say, shaking your head. “I didn’t know.”

The man pauses his steps and hums. His fingers go to his lips, as if this is a serious conundrum, indeed. You remember, then, that you never asked his name. He hops back over the fence and you’re about to call out when he lets out a noise of success, and saunters back with a sprig of bluebells in his hand. 

You didn’t see them there before. But you were paying more attention to your hands than the flowers. 

He holds them out to you, and raises his eyebrows. “They aren’t the first bluebells this year, but I don’t think it will matter much.” 

Making a wish on bluebells. How silly. But it’s just the sort of thing you used to do, when you let yourself indulge more in your secrets. 

You reach out and brush the petals with your fingertips, letting the soft petals and stems tickle your skin.  Then you close your eyes and make a wish.

You keep that wish in your pocket with your other secrets.

---

That night, Thomas holds you too roughly in bed and pushes too roughly inside you and you close your eyes and think, suddenly, of the bluebells. And the lamb. And the blood. And Robin. 

When he pulls out, the stickiness of it all makes you wince. You don’t tell him that you pretended at your own release, and he doesn’t notice the lie. 

“That should take,” he says, voice breathy. He rests his head back against his pillow and glances at you. Is it wariness in his eyes, or weariness? Sometimes you wonder if he regrets the marriage. Most of your friends, married off earlier than you, were already with child. Or had one weaning from a wet nurse already. 

You wonder if any of them missed their dreams and took them out of drawers and gazed at them, the way you like to do. Any notions you had of leaving town and being a painter died long ago. When your parents died, maybe--but perhaps earlier. When your parents tutted at the idea of paying for painting lessons or when they pulled you out of schooling because you didn’t need much, they said, to run a household. Or when you had that first realization that you were going to die someday, in the spring, when the flowers bloomed, and was there any point to pursuing a life when it was all going to end, anyway?

Thomas says your name and you’re pulled out of your reverie. He leans forward and kisses your cheek, and you lean against him. He’s not a bad man, really. He buys you paints. He peels his mother-in-law from your presence when she’s overbearing. 

But sometimes you catch him staring at your empty belly with a frustrated sadness that makes your fingers curl. 

Beside you, on the bedside table, is a sketch of bluebells you made when you came home. You didn’t bother using your paints on it--you don’t have the right blues to capture them just right. 

--

The next day, you dutifully visit the farmer to ask about the lamb. You tell your mother-in-law this, and she smiles, grateful that you’re enduring yourself to their neighbors. It is essential, she has told you before, that you maintain a good standing in the community. 

And you aren’t exactly uninterested in the lamb or the farmer. But you’re mostly hoping to run into Robin on your way there, if only to ask him to help you find more bluebells like the ones he gave you yesterday. You want to dry them out and save them, and perhaps the next time Thomas’ purse is heavy (though when that will be, considering all the things he is planning, you don’t know) he might be able to find a suitable paint.

But when you ask the farmer if he’s seen the man who helped you yesterday, he gives you a look. A look that reminds you of rapped knuckles and whispers.

“I don’t recall anyone with you yesterday,” he says, glancing behind you before giving you a look that was perhaps skin to pity. Maybe he remembers the dusty rumors from your childhood. Or maybe the sun is in his eyes.

“Well…” you start, and it’s best to shrug it all off, isn’t it? “I’m sorry to have bothered. I’m glad to hear that the lambs are doing well.”

It’s funny how easy it is to wash away strange looks with complacent, neighborly smiles. Funny and a little sad. The farmer waves you off and gives you a basket of fresh bread his wife baked and vegetables his son harvested and a tin of jam his daughter made. You imagine baking bread to give to neighbors and something inside you shudders.

So the farmer didn’t remember seeing Robin. Perhaps Robin was standing behind you. Perhaps the farmer had gotten into the drink a little early. 

Perhaps Robin wasn’t real and you were losing your mind and dying from some unknown illness that was finally, finally going to kill you and--

But when you reach the fork in the road that leads in and out of town, there is Robin, leaning up against a tree, a thistle of something dancing in his teeth. He’s wearing a loose white top with frills, almost akin to an undershirt than anything else, and plain black trousers. When he catches your eye, it drops from his mouth as he practically runs toward you. 

You think to ask him about the farmer, but he’s talking--there is a bit of green stem in his teeth--before you can speak.

“Did you dream of bluebells again?”

You smile, a forced politeness, and shake your head. You didn’t dream of bluebells, and it was a shame. Instead you dreamt of your belly growing big and there was an awful pain and grayness, and you were dead before your child could even walk, and your husband didn’t care--all he did was pick up the beautifully squirming baby and go on his merry way. 

“I dreamt about…” But you can’t tell him about that. You wouldn’t tell your husband about this dream, much less a stranger wearing 

Robin’s grin broadens. “What? You can tell me. I like hearing about these first dreams in spring, you know.” 

You’ve known this man for less than two hours, yesterday’s lamb birth and walk to the farmhouse considered, but you find him refreshingly strange.

But you shake your head.  You shake your head. You wouldn't burden a stranger with the troubles of your life that spill into dreams. What would this young man care about the woes of your life, anyway? Your fears about death and life and marriage. Though perhaps he had a wife. Perhaps she was at home, toiling over the hearth, while he sprawled about the woods and talked gaily with others and grinned at them and gave them flowers. 

You force down the bitter kernel of resentment. It wasn't fair to him, you suppose, to spin such an assumption out of nothing. He looked young enough to remain untethered, and men often went longer without marrying, anyway. He was a helpful--albeit unusual--young man who helped you pull a lamb out of a stuck sheep and escorted you to-and-fro afterwards. That was all.

“You think too much,” he says, and the shock of it pulls you out of your thoughts and brings a bit of heat to your cheeks. You do think a lot. It’s a bad habit, started from childhood, when thinking about things (you’re going to die in the spring) was revealed as preferable to saying them out loud.

“You’ll get wrinkles,” he points out, voice sing-song, and gestures a finger towards your lips, which are set in a somewhat serious frown. 

He grins. 

“It doesn’t matter. Look--” He sweeps his hand down towards the ground, and you instinctively step back as you notice for the first time that there is a carpet of bluebells underneath your feet. They weren’t there before… or were they? You were so often lost in thought in the spring that you perhaps paid more attention to the limited nature of your future than you did the world around you.

And aren’t these just the most vibrant bluebells you’ve ever seen? Their color reminds you of 

“Witches' thimbles,” you blurt out. He quirks his head again, like you’re a fascinating specimen at a museum. Not that you’ve ever been to one, or will likely ever go. “That’s… another name for them, isn’t it?” 

Heat blossoms across your cheeks. You feel stupid. Silly. Who cares about another name for bluebells? It’s exactly the sort of thing that made people give you strange looks when you were younger--blurting out facts that no one cared to hear. Whether it was the fact of your impending demise or a stream of names for spring flowers.

But he doesn’t look at you like you’re strange. Instead, he busts out laughing.

“Yes!” Like an extremely enthusiastic tutor, thrilled that his pupil has finally gotten an answer correct. “Or wood hyacinth, lady’s nightcap…”

He crouches down and brushes his hands over the blossoms, drooping blue-purple bells that sway just enough in the breeze.

You crouch down--oh, it’s so untoward--and take a sniff. Bluebells don’t have a very strange fragrance, and you only get a bit of bright greenness. And then another name comes to you, and you can’t help the carefree grin that spreads across your face before you spit it out. 

“Crow’s toes!” 

He stares at you, and there’s a split second where you think ah, that was too much and now I’ve ruined everything, before he bursts into laughter.

“Cuckoo’s boots!” He counters, voice choking with mirth. 

It takes you only a moment before you’re the one bursting with laughter, and your crouch turns into a full blown sit right on the ground. Your skirt will be dirty and if someone comes across the pair of you, the local gossip will never end, but you don’t seem to care in the presence of the laughing, strange young man in front of you.

When the laughter fades and you’re left inexplicably sitting on the ground in a pile of bluebells, you finally think to ask something of him. Something you really ought to have asked before, but you were distracted. By lambs and bluebells and the season itself. 

“Why haven’t I seen  you around before, Robert?” 

“Robin,” he says, light and easy. He shrugs just as easily. “I’m only around sometimes. I like to travel.”

His eyes are a brilliant shade of blue. Not quite deep enough to mimic a bluebell, but there’s a dancing light in them. The thought is too much, and you clear your throat and help yourself to your feet. 

There is a difference, you think, between being yourself (when is the laugh time you laughed giddily? The last time you made a joke? Your husband could be kind, but he was not silly or carefree or funny…) and being improper.

“Well,” and your voice is back to sounding almost prim, an echo of your mother-in-law. You are a married woman, after all. “I’m glad I’ve caught you when you’re visiting, then. Thank you--” He looks up at you, and there’s confusion in his eyes. Maybe a little hurt, too. “For your help with the lamb,” you finish.

He doesn’t stand up, which is odd enough. Instead he pulls his knees up to his chest and stares up at you. “I didn’t do much.” He sighs, a soft, long sound that makes you want to contradict him. “You could have done it even without four hands, I bet!” 

The compliment makes you want to stay. It also makes you want to leave. 

“It’s nothing.” You glance down at your hands. They aren’t a painter’s hands, though you often wished they were. They were a farmer’s hands. “My parents were farmers and I grew up here. It’s not the first lamb I’ve helped birth… or cow… or goat.” A low sound from your throat, a mirthless chuckle. “Or a person.”

He blinks up at you. 

“Do you have children?”

Your hand goes to your stomach.

“No.” 

Your lips get tight and thin and yes, perhaps it is time you left. 

He groans, suddenly, and flops back on the grass. One hand splays over his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding annoyed and sorrowful and pouting all in one breath. “Ugh!” He opens his eyes and stares up at the sky. “Sore subjects, there’s always sore subjects…”

You almost feel a little sorry for him. He reminds you of… yourself. Somewhere, deep down, buried under layers of corrections that began with rapped knuckles.

“It’s all right,” you tell him, voice soft. “You didn’t mean anything by it. It’s a common enough question, I suppose.” 

“Please don’t go,” he asks, and you want to smile a little at the wheedling tone in his voice. “You’re fun. I like it.” 

You shake your head and lift up your skirts. It’s too much, isn’t it? Someone might see. And even if they don’t, there’s that pit growing in your stomach, a pit all women must cultivate for situations like these. 

He continues to lay in the grass for a few moments, before he hoists himself up and jumps back into a standing position. He’s back to smiling, as if nothing had ever been said between you.

“If you stay…” His voice is teasing you, drawing you in, pulled candy held on a stick. “I’ll let you use these.”

And you take a step back now, when he crouches and reaches for a  bag left loitering on the ground. You don’t remember seeing that bag. Maybe you are too overworked lately. Your brain must be frazzled and fried like eggs in a hot pan. 

But instead of pulling out a weapon or something else that has your lips ready to shout for help, he pulls out… paints.

A set of paints. And a traveling easel, with a sheet of cloth ready to be bolted over it. 

You stare at the paints. Then at the bluebells. And then at him.

“I… could stay for a little while.” 

--

That evening, blue paint stains your fingertips while you finish your sewing for the evening. Your husband’s shirts, first; then your mother-in-law’s; then the children’s; and then your own. 

There is a robin perched in the window and you laugh. A bright, beautiful sound in a room that has seen little giddiness since you and your husband have made it your home. Your husband, busy with his own work, looks up at you with a peculiar expression.

But he says nothing. 

He said nothing about your fingertips, either. Although he clearly saw them when you came home. Instead of asking--and you would have told him, surely?--he pursed his lips and gave your arm an affectionate squeeze and told you that he’d bartered for some fresh cheese from the neighbor. 

You like cheese, so you’d thanked him, and went about your day.

And now it was evening, bordering nightfall, and the time for chores has ended as a new nightly task was set before you. The task that had you unfastening the laces of your dress, and then  your stays, and climbing into bed in your night chemise to wait for your husband.

The window behind you was open, letting in the cool spring air. Singing crickets were as good as music and darkened pinks and purples filtered through the window, the last bits of dappled colors before night would come. 

The robin is still there when you tilt your head up and look out the window to catch the fleeting sunlight. 

And you swear the bird quirks its head as your husband unfastens his trousers and climbs into bed.

--

It’s not right to do this. You know it’s not. But you meet Robin again, and again, and again. The spring seems longer than ever and for once you are not fretting about childhood prophecies, you are not foregoing thoughts of happiness and friendships because you’re worried about the fact that you won’t live to cherish them forever.

Instead, you’re meeting with Robin at the same spot, the far far end of the neighbor’s fence where only the lambs like to go. Where the stubborn lamb was born and comes, sometimes, sneaking underneath the fence and sitting between the two of you.

Together, you paint. After a while, Robin brought a proper easel with him, along with a canvas worth more than ten of the canvases your husband could ever afford to buy you. And the paints, oh the paints! Such rich shades that perfectly mimic the natural colors of the world around you. For once, you are making progress on bluebells that aren’t hampered by a limitation in color or quantity. 

But you don’t just paint. You talk. About your dreams and the future and everything but your secret. Because for once, you’re not thinking about it. 

Because Robin makes you laugh.

Because he makes you feel like yourself, or someone you used to be. Like you can peel off layers of smoke and grease and find yourself again, fresh and new.

Because he makes you feel unmarried.

And if you come home later than usual, if you sing more than you ever had before, if your smiles and laughs fill the house with a lightness it has been sorely missing… is that such a bad thing? Your paintings of bluebells are hung up in your bedroom, and your husband hums at them and says they look pretty. And it’s not exactly like being a real painter but it’s nice enough for the life that you have--and that’s all we can ever hope for, isn’t it? 

--

Robin’s kisses are tinged with the flowers he likes to nibble on now and then. Spicy and sweet.

Today his kiss tastes of honey and you draw back and press disbelieving fingers to your lips. When he grins, as he always does, his mouth is sticky with thick, orange honey.

“Wh--where did you get--” You sputter, licking the taste in your mouth. A delicious floral honey, earthy and sweet. 

“Honeycomb.” He gestures behind him, somewhere in that wild, beautiful forest that surrounds the carefully plotted paths the townspeople made so long ago. Then he pulls out a chewed piece of raw honeycomb, jagged and broken. It’s a wonder he didn’t get stung. 

You laugh--oh Robin, silly Robin--and say nothing more, but lean forward and begin to lick the rest of it from his lips. 

Before the afternoon is out, the two of you make love for the first time. Beneath the tree, above the bluebells, yards away from the stubborn lamb who fell asleep by the fencepost hours before. 

--

“You wicked slut!”

There is a flesh-colored blur and then a sting across your face. Not painful but humiliating and surprising and oh God, you think, at least it wasn’t my knuckles.

She knew. They knew. Your mother-in-law and your husband and probably half the town, if not the whole of it. Someone saw you two (the farmer? You hope not, thinking of his basket and his smile, but thinking of his strange look at you, too) and your mother-in-law has put two and two together to make four.

Four being that you and this young man are clearly engaged in something other than paintings and picnics. You could tell her that you’ve only kissed, nothing more. But it would be worse to admit to anything right now, when gossip has inflamed her imagination.

Do you dare look at your husband? No. Not for more than a second. He stands, firm, his mouth pressed into a frown. But he says nothing as his mother screams at you and slaps you once, and then twice.

“Have you been together?” She practically shrieks the words out, and spittle flies towards your tingling cheek.

“I--” You don’t answer, but your stuttering is enough. Your face is enough. The way your body seems to shrink inward is enough.

Your mother-in-law’s voice turns into a ragged gasp, and she huffs until she sits herself down in a chair pulled from the kitchen. She’s done, burnt out, probably thinking of ways to turn you out of the house.

You don’t know what else to do, so you turn towards Thomas and look at him as fully as you can despite the pain in your cheek and the guilt rolling about your chest. 

He stares at you for a moment. And then he raises a hand to slap you, the way his mother had slapped you, the way that his mother has slapped the children and no doubt, the way she slapped him, when he was a child.

But he doesn’t touch you. His hand lowers, slow, and you catch a hint of tears in his voice as he tells you to go to the bedroom and stay there.

Guilt, regret and rebellion, turn over in equal measure in your stomach. 

--

You’re not allowed to walk beyond the plot of the garden fence surrounding your home. Your mother-in-law forbids it, and your husband does not contradict her.

He does tell her that you are never to be slapped again, and that is at least something.

But what relief comes from that is overshadowed when he throws away your paints and your papers, your sketch pad and your pencils. 

“No more,” he says, voice low. “No more.”

“Why?” You ask, and you see yourself in his eyes. A wife who sneaks out of the home to dally with young men in the forest, a wife who comes home with paint on her fingers, who stains his mended shirts with the color of bluebells.

He says nothing. He gives your shoulder a squeeze and asks you to mind the cooking supper while his mother goes into town.

--

You begin to throw up in the mornings.

You begin to have strange dreams, feverish ones, of bluebells and births and sticky dark lamb’s blood.

It’s not until your mother-in-law treats you more tenderly that you realize what it all means. The sickness and dreams and odd feeling in yourself.

You haven’t bled since the end of winter.

You are with child.

--

The news lightens the household. At least, it lightens Thomas and his mother, who is beside herself with preparations for you. She spends the evenings working on a pile of baby clothes and often comes home from the market with fruits said to ease your stomach, poultices she swears will be ideal when you begin to have swollen feet. 

You don’t want to have swollen feet. You don’t want to think about how Thomas must now build the addition to the home sooner than anticipated, and how you’ll have to learn how to feed your child and raise your child, and how there will always be a tether between the two of you that could be snipped at any moment. 

Your husband brings you things that are pretty and sweet. But never paints. You don’t think you’ll ever see him walk through the threshold with those again. 

But you can’t complain about how he treats you. He insists on buying cushions for the chairs, so you don’t have to sit down as far. He minds what you eat. He holds you in the night, and no longer insists on entering you--a respite in several ways.

He says nothing when you look pensive in the evenings, hands itching for your pencils, your paints.

He never asks whether or not the child might be his, which is just as well--because you have no idea.  

The robin comes back only once, which dispels your fantastical notions that perhaps it’s been Robin in disguise all along. That would be ridiculous, of course. Just as ridiculous as the notion that you were some carefree unmarried thing, free to dance about with a stranger in the woods. Just as ridiculous as the notion that you’re going to die in the spring.

--

“Please?”

Thomas frowns. You haven’t been allowed past the garden in several weeks. It was now nearing the end of spring, your dreaded season, and something deep inside you was going mad with the need to see something past the confines of your marital home. 

“Just to the end of the path and back.” You sigh and stretch your legs, lifting up your skirts to show him your swollen ankles. “It will be good for my legs. And fresh air is good for the baby, or so your mother says.”

Thomas can be stern. He has a right to be, you assure yourself, all things considered. But he is not terribly cruel. And so he sighs and tells you yes, but only to the end of the path, and don’t stop for strangers, and come right home. 

And you intend to obey him like a dutiful spouse. You really do.

It’s just… when you get to the end of the path, near the fork in the road…

There is the bleating of the lamb.

The smell of bluebells, richer than before.

The twitch of your hand, aching for a brush and paints.

And Robin, leaning up against a tree, a flower rolling in between his teeth like a wayward goat.

He catches your eye, and pushes himself off the tree. His grin is as easy as it was the day you met him and the many days in between.

What do you say in situations like these? Your heart thuds, but offers no answer. Your stomach twists, but says nothing at all.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, head downcast. “I haven’t been able to come.”

“Hm?” You glance up, and he quirks his head. Like a bird. “It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s been weeks, and there’s a stinging in your chest. You’re one of many, most certainly. Or he does have a wife at home and he’s been busy with her and you’re a silly, stupid fling that he’s forgotten about. Heat rushes to your cheek faster than it should--damned pregnancy. 

“Sorry,” he says, his eyes wide and his smile chipper. “I said something stupid, didn’t I? I don’t have a head for time.” He sighs, and the soft, languid sound of it goes a long way towards soothing your hurt. 

Then he finally looks down at the swell of your stomach and his eyes get wide, the crisp blue of them seeming to glitter as he 

“I see…”

He walks a few paces back to the tree and plops down, his back against the bark. You hesitate. You should go home. Someone will see you. More than that, you said you’d go back. You can’t even keep your word, how are you ever going to raise a child?

But you take one step and then another, and Robin reaches out and helps you lower yourself to the ground. 

The silence between you feels uncomfortable. But apparently Robin feels nothing of the sort, because all he does is stretch out his legs and pull out his bag (and God, you swear, where did it come from today?) to retrieve paints and easels and your fingers practically shake as he hands them to you.

You talk while you paint, but there is nothing light about your conversation this afternoon. Just as there is nothing light about your painting. It is bluebells, yes. But not a pretty field of them buzzing with bees and floating dandelion seeds and spring sun. Instead it is dark and overcast, the soggy aftermath of a storm.

“I want it on my terms,” you say, and your frown is so set that your teeth begin to ache. Robin hums, and your brush drags down over the canvas, agitated. He doesn’t understand. He can’t. He’s… 

Robin watches you paint, and then pulls up a long blade of grass and begins to chew on it. 

“Tell me, then.” As if it’s the easiest thing in the world to say to anyone. Much less him, in your current state. 

“Thomas told me this morning,” you begin, laying it out with a simmering anger. “That perhaps I can paint again when we’re done having children. When they’re grown. When it will be… appropriate.” The word drips from your mouth like poison.

How often have you heard that damned word in this world? It’s not appropriate to tell people that you see green people in the woods. It’s not appropriate to tell your mother that you met a fairy and she was very nice, and gave you a flower to put under your bed when you slept. It’s not appropriate to mention at breakfast that the flower was magic and it told you your future, that you were going to die in the spring and that was that.

You don’t notice that you’ve stopped painting until Robin’s hand is on yours. When you glance at him, he looks a little serious, and it’s so unlike him that the brush slides from your fingers so that they can intertwine with his own.

“Tell me,” he says. “About the secret in your pocket.”

Your throat constricts. “I don’t have a secret… in my pocket or otherwise.” You feel heavy, suddenly. Because of your skirts and your child and your life. 

“I was your secret for a while, wasn’t I?” He taps your nose, a gesture that might have made you giggle a few weeks ago, but now only makes you frustrated. He’s never serious enough, when you need him to be. “You can tell me.” He quirks his head--the bird--and adds, lightly. “I already know, but I’d rather you tell me.”

And… you do. 

You tell him about the woods and things you weren’t supposed to see, and your dream about your death that has followed you ever since. You tell him about the way people looked at you until you stopped talking about it at all. You tell him about Thomas’ mother slapping you and the baby growing inside you and the fear that you will die before it is born or die before it is old or die before you’re ever, ever allowed to paint again. 

When you’re done, he laughs. He throws back his head and laughs, and it hurts and confuses and tears are blinked away as you try to muster up what to say to him.

The blade of grass gets curled up in his mouth, and he blows on it--a whistle. 

“It’s easy. Just don’t get any older.”

It was your turn to laugh. A short, bitter thing.

“Everyone grows old.” 

They do, don’t they? Growing old has been a part of you since childhood. Eggs to chicks to hens to table. Watching your grandfather go from lifting you up high to sitting in a chair to lying on a table, his body looking waxy and stiff as everyone wept around you and the room smelled funny. 

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. As if the very idea was ridiculous. 

“You don’t have to do what they want. Grow old--or don’t. Be a painter--or don’t.”

Your fingers brush over the unfinished canvas in front of you. 

“Even if I could stay young forever--and I can’t. I… I can’t be a painter when my husband won’t buy me paints.” You frown, which only deepens as you speak. “Or when I’m about to have a child, who will need me to nurse it and care for it, who will pull on my skirts when it learns to walk, who will need to be wiped and washed and taught. And soon enough I’ll be just like Thomas’ mother, and I’ll nag my own daughter-in-law and maybe I’ll slap her when she displeases me. And then my children will be grown but I’ll be old and I won’t be able to hold a brush even if I wanted to.” You take a breath. “And that’s assuming I don’t die well before then, in a spring just like this, and everyone else moves on after me because that’s just what you do when people die.”

He shakes off your words like morning dew. Unimportant, silly things. 

“You made a wish.” He picks a bluebell and twirls the stem in his fingers. “You dreamt of bluebells and you got the first wish of spring, and it will come true.” 

There’s a pang of stinging irritation in your chest. Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed. It feels like no time at all has passed between you and all the time in the world at the same time.

“Robin.” There’s patience in your voice, and something sterner that reminds you of Thomas’ mother. “Wishes aren’t real. Not like that.” You can’t just wish yourself to never grow old or be a painter or do whatever it is you want in this practical, limited place called life. 

His smile softens, sweetly. You’re reminded of the kiss with honey between his teeth.

“You had a dream that you would die in spring, and that is real. But you don’t trust in wishes?”

His fingers tighten over yours. Just enough for you to notice. And then they loosen and he’s splaying his hand out, palm up. “Come with me, then. I’ll make your wish come true.” 

And he doesn't say it soft and honeyed and low, a temptation. He says it with sureness--with a grin on his face, with the gold in his hair shimmering in the afternoon light, with the blueness of flowers in his eyes. 

“It could always be like this,” he says, looking out towards the fence across the way. “If you come with me.” The stubborn little lamb toddles after its mother and there are bluebells surrounding you and Robin at your side.

And a baby in your belly.

“What about my baby?” You blurt out the words, a hand resting on your stomach.

He shrugs, and far away, the lamb bleats. You realize that he never asked if it was his child. Like Thomas, he says nothing of it. It's a baby in your belly and that is that, or so it seems.

“Keep it if you want to. Or we can give it away, if you feel bad.” 

You don’t ask to whom you’ll be giving it away, but the way he says it unnerves you, untethers you just a little. 

You don’t think he’s talking about leaving the child with an orphanage or on the doorstep of a kindly neighbor. Beads of sweat stick to your back and you think of the stones you used to see in the woods as a child. Large, smooth paved stones. Someone (your grandmother? A neighbor? A whispering thing that dripped words in your ear while you slept?) told you that women left babies there to be taken by fairies and spirits and anything else that would have them.

Green men didn’t always look green, and just where did Robin get his bag and his paints and his bluebells? 

You don’t bother asking him what he meant. You’re not sure, really, that he’d tell you. 

The thought of not keeping your child never actually registered before today. But then, running away with Robin never registered until this moment either. 

What do you want? You stare at Robin’s outstretched palm and look at your own naked one. The memory of the stinking rich lifeblood on it comes to mind, as does the sight of your friend’s round bellies, the screams and sweat of the birthing rooms you attended with your mother.

Is that what you want? A child? That life? The uncertainty of wondering when when when will I die? 

There’s a lurch in your chest and you want to leave before it becomes too much.  You stand, wobbling, refusing Robin’s hand and starting down the path without another word. 

He yells after you, jovial, unconcerned.

“Tomorrow! It has to be tomorrow!” 

--

On the way home, your hand plucks the last of the blooming spring flowers so that you can explain  your long absence in front of what you’re sure will be frowning, tutting faces.

But when you stride frantically in, skin flushed and hand clutching a bouquet, everyone stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. You were gone less than a half hour--the time it normally takes to walk up the path and back.

That night, your bed feels rock hard. Or maybe it’s just your nerves that keep you afloat, refusing to let you sink into the mattress as you’d like to do.

Your hand rests on your stomach and Thomas isn’t in bed yet, late nights doing work to make more money to build you an attachment so that you aren’t sharing the same space as his mother forever, and you both love and hate that he’s not here.

If he was here, you might not have the luxury of thinking about anything at all.

But you do, and the thoughts race inside your head, bouncing to and fro like frantic children.

Do you go with Robin? Is Robin a human? Do you keep the baby? Can you leave Thomas? Is it better to live here and die here or go somewhere else and perhaps, be there forever? 

There is no bird in your window that night, but you swear you smell the delicate scent of bluebells. Fresh and green and bitter, right under your nose. 

--

Thomas lets you walk to the end of the path again, because you complain about your swelling legs and he thinks getting out of the house is better for your increasingly isolated mind.

And so, here you stand at the fork in the road. 

You could turn around and walk home. Back to your husband and his mother and the new life that awaits there. You would let your mother-in-law tut over you and tell you the best way to nurse and feed and how long to wait after birth to conceive another.  You would let Thomas guide you and hold you and look at you with stern pity when you wanted nothing more than to paint. You would live there and die there, and who knows when that would be? Could you stand the agony of each spring, every shifting season, promising life for others and death for you? Could you stand never picking up your paints again? 

You could walk towards the farm. To the lamb and to Robin, to a beginning that might not have an end at all. You could see if Robin’s skin would peel back green or if he knew where to leave your child so that it could have a good life (but would it?) and ask him if he meant it, when he said you never grow old. 

What life do you choose? Which one could be called a life at all? Both? Neither? 

Take a step back. Take a step forward. 

Stop keeping secrets in your pocket and splay them out on the table and make a choice.

Make a damned choice.

But you don’t get to make one, after all.

Instead, a familiar hand grabs your wrist and tugs you forward, and you stumble over bluebells that don’t crumple down even when you trample on them. 

“Robin--”

He’s there, smiling and holding onto you, and behind him is a wild field of bluebells that are so thick and fragrant it’s as if you walked into a maze of them. You spin around, his wrist still holding your own, but the path is gone. That world is gone, lost and brushed over with this hazy spring afternoon. 

He leans forward and presses a kiss to your nose. He smells like flowers and honey and something bitter underneath that has perhaps always been there, covered with the scent of paints and lamb's blood and your own uncertainty. 

“Well?” His grin is as vivacious as ever, and his chestnut hair seems to shine more deeply here, glimmering with golden hues that beg to be run through with your fingers. 

In his eyes is the lamb, the roundness of your belly, the deep hue of the bluebells in your dream and the paint that stained your fingers. Were his eyes always so rich? Or did you fill them with your conversations and your laughter, your kisses and your touches? Just as he filled you with dreams and smiles and an airiness you'd long since plastered over.

“Come on!” 

He pulls you along, laughing and you don’t know where you’re going. Whether you will live forever or ever paint again or what it will be like. You only know the three of you will start there together, whether you wanted it or not. 

You were always, in the end, going to die in the spring. 

[tessa-liam]

Marabelle Series

Choices – The Royal Romance, AU 

Series Premise – An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobility, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret? 

Marabelle Series Masterlist 

Main Pairing – Prince Liam Rys x F!OC Lady Sophia (Sophie) Taylor 

Other Pairings – Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel (from NYC), Drake Walker x F!OC Melanie Smithson 

Most characters belong to Pixelberry Studios 

Series Rating – M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, crude language & innuendo. 

Not Beta’d - Please excuse all errors. 

Category – Alternate universe/on-going series/angst/fluff 

Words: 2389

The Awakening, Chapter 9 

Chapter Summary – The Duke of Ramsford, Barthelemy Beaumont returns to House Beaumont. Liam prepares for the polo match charity fundraiser in support of disaster relief in Portavira. Sophie attends classes at the University of Cordonia. King Constantine reveals his illness. 

Music Inspiration: The Crown Prince, Waylon Jennings 

A/N1: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the U.S. and is Barthelemy Beaumont’s second wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) is Bertrand’s mother. 

A/N2: ‘Social Season’ in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in Balls, dinner parties and charity events. 

A/N3: My submission for Choices Flashfics @choicesflashfics, Week #68, prompt 1 - “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” 

 Personal Care Home, Vallenheim 

Standing in the waiting room, staring out of the window at the parking lot outside of the personal care home, the gray-haired man appeared aloof and unapproachable to anyone passing by. That was, until he spotted his wife and eldest son step out of the town car. The corners of his mouth upturned as he saw his auburn-haired wife gracefully step onto the curb and walk toward the building. His son, Bertrand, followed behind her, his back straight, his expression stoic. 

As the two approached the door, the man straightened his posture and smoothed his salt and pepper hair. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the reunion he had been anxiously expecting after the years apart. 

The door swung open, and his wife entered, her dark eyes lighting up as they landed on him. "Barthelemy," she breathed, a smile spreading across her face. 

"Bethany," he replied, stepping toward her and taking her hands in his. "It is so good to see you." 

"And you," she said, squeezing his hands in return. 

Their moment was interrupted by their son, who cleared his throat. "Father," he said, inclining his head respectfully. 

"Bertrand," the man replied. "I trust you've been taking proper care of your mother." 

"Of course," Bertrand replied, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise." 

Bethany chuckled. "He's done a fine job, Barthelemy, along with Maxwell," she assured him. "I couldn't have asked for better sons." 

Barthelemy nodded, satisfied. "Good." 

He then turned his attention to the doctor, who had been watching the exchange silently. "Is everything in order, Doctor? I'd like to get home to Cordonia as soon as possible." 

"Yes, Your Grace," the doctor replied, handing him a thick folder. "Here are all the instructions and prescriptions you'll need. The nurse will be along shortly with the medication you need to take during your trip home. Just be sure to follow the dosage schedule carefully." 

"Of course," Barthelemy replied, a hint of irritation in his voice. He loathed being told what to do, even by medical professionals. Unbeknownst to Bethany and Bertrand, he was playing, along with the doctor and nurse, the role of a lifetime: The miraculously awakened coma patient. 

The doctor smiled apologetically. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I just want to make sure you have all the information you need."  

"I understand, Doctor. And I appreciate your thoroughness." 

The nurse entered the room with a wheelchair, which Barthelemy at once objected to. 

"Surely, that's not necessary," he protested. 

"It's just protocol, Your Grace," the nurse explained. "It's clinic policy.” 

"Very well," Barthelemy sighed, reluctantly settling into the chair. 

Bethany and Bertrand flanked him, each taking the handle of the wheelchair. 

"Are you ready, Father?" Bertrand asked. 

"As ready as I'll ever be," Barthelemy replied. 

The Cordonian Royal Polo Club 

"Hey, Liam, I thought I'd find you out here," Drake called out as he approached the stable, his boots crunching on the gravel. 

"Oh, hey Drake," Liam answered. "I didn't think you were coming until later." 

"Yeah, well, I finished my rounds early, and I thought I'd come by and see how you're doing. How was the New Year's Ball?"  

"It was excellent," Liam smiled, his mind flashing back to his romantic interlude with Lady Sophie. "We had a lot of fun." 

"I'll bet you did," Drake smirked, knowing that his 'smitten' best friend personally asked Sophie to attend.  

"It's not like that," Liam protested, though his ears turned slightly pink. 

"Mmm hmm.” 

"It's not ..." Liam started. 

"Whatever you say, Liam." Drake chuckled, shaking his head knowingly. 

"Anyway," Liam said, changing the subject, "I'm just getting started on the polo drills."

"Mind if I watch?" 

"Of course not." 

Drake sat on a bench while Liam mounted his horse. His crisp white polo shirt accentuated his tanned muscular physique with his riding breeches and boots. 

"All right, boy, let’s see what you can do," Liam calmly spoke, gently kicking the horse's flanks. 

The horse took off like a shot, galloping across the field at top speed. 

Liam leaned forward, urging the horse on. 

Drake watched, transfixed, as Liam and the horse moved as one, their bodies in perfect sync. 

"That was impressive! Excellent!" Drake called out, as Liam brought the horse to a halt in front of him. 

"Thanks," Liam replied, breathing heavily. "He's a dependable and efficient steed," giving the horse a pat on the neck. 

Liam dismounted and accepted a bottle of water and towel from an attendant. As Liam and Drake walked toward the clubhouse, the ranch hands steered the thoroughbred back to the barn. 

“That reminds me, Drake. Are you still available to join my polo team for the fund-raising event in Portavira next week?” 

 “Yes, Mel and I are looking forward to kicking noble ass." Drake grinned knowing that Neville was on the opposing team.

"I still need to find one more player since Rashad had to cancel."

“What about Sophie? Melanie tells me she played polo in New York.” 

“She mentioned she studied dressage back in the U.S. and was thrilled to learn that Marabelle was quite proficient. That skill could come in handy for the team.” Liam pondered aloud. 

“Sophie is a skilled rider, and she would be a terrific addition to the team, Li.” 

“I can't wait to see her ride again," Liam responded, smiling,

"Uh huh, I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun," Drake smirked. 

Liam sighed, shaking his head. "Not everything has to be a double entendre, Drake." 

"I know, but it's so much more fun that way," he cheekily responded.

University of Cordonia, Capital 

"I can't believe it's been a week since the New Year's Ball," Sophie exclaimed, taking a bite of her sandwich. "Time seems to be flying by." 

"I know," Maxwell replied, stirring his salad. "I feel like I need to plan the next Beaumont Bash already!" 

Sophie laughed. "Do you ever stop thinking about these events?" 

"Not when there's so much work to do to organize," Maxwell grinned. "But that's what makes me so good at it." 

"You certainly are, but Max, this is your last semester...don't start something you can't finish." 

“I don’t have to worry about my grades; I have already met the requirement to graduate with honors.” 

"I've been thinking," Maxwell said, a mischievous glint in his eye, "about a different theme for the next Beaumont Bash after my graduation." 

"And what theme were you thinking about having?" Sophie asked, knowing exactly what was coming. 

"I'm going to make it a costume ball!" 

"I knew it! That sounds like so much fun," Sophie grinned. 

"It will be, and you'll be celebrating your first-year anniversary as a Cordonian.” 

"Of course, I'll be there.” 

"So, how are things with Liam going?" Maxwell asked, his eyes twinkling. 

"Good," Sophie blushed. "We had a great time at the New Year's Ball." 

"Did you have a good time, or 'a good time'?" Maxwell waggled his eyebrows. 

"Maxwell!" 

"Okay, okay. I will not push."

"What did I miss?" Daniel asked, as he grabbed a chair to sit down. 

"Sophie was just telling me about her New Year's kiss with Liam," Maxwell winked. 

"Ooh, do tell." 

"There's nothing to tell," Sophie laughed, her cheeks burning. 

"Come on, Soph, give us all the deets," Daniel prodded. 

"Fine. We kissed. It was amazing." 

"I knew it!" Maxwell exclaimed. 

"So, when's the wedding?" Daniel joked. 

"Shut up," Sophie retorted, laughing. 

"Seriously, I'm happy for you. It's been a long time since I've seen you this happy, Squirrel." 

"Thanks, Daniel." 

"So, how are you doing with your Dad coming back tomorrow, Max?" Daniel inquired. 

"I'm okay. I mean, I am glad he is better. But I do not know if I am ready to face him yet.” 

"It's still so weird to me that you and Sophie are related." 

"Yeah, it's a small world," Maxwell chuckled. 

"No kidding. So, what is the deal with your Dad, anyway? What was he doing all that time?" 

"He was in a coma," Maxwell replied, his voice soft. 

"Oh, shit. I am so sorry, Max." 

"It's okay. It's just..." Maxwell paused, looking uncomfortably at his hands. 

"What?" 

"It's hard to know what to believe, you know? After everything he put us through." 

"I get that. But don't forget, he's still your Dad."

"He was a shit one, though," Maxwell pointed out. 

Sophie put her hand on Daniel’s arm, “Let’s change the conversation, Dan.” 

"It’s all right. I always knew that I would have to deal with it eventually. But right now, I just want to focus on graduating and figuring out my next steps." 

"That sounds like a good plan," Daniel agreed. 

"Yeah. It'll all work out in the end." 

"That's the spirit"  

Daniel slid his binder under his arm, "... see you guys later. Oh, and Max, just remember, you've got this." 

"Thanks, man." 

Maxwell watched his friend leave, feeling grateful for the support. 

"He's right, you know," Sophie began. 

"About what?" Maxwell looked at Sophie 

"You've got this. No matter what happens with your father, you will be okay. You're stronger than you realize." 

Maxwell sighed. "I know you are right. I am also grateful that Mom will be there as a buffer for you." 

Sophie wrapped her arm around him. 

"It will be fine. 

Now, let's get to class before we're late." 

Sophie and Maxwell walked together out of the dining hall to their next classes, feeling bolstered by each other's support. 

Cordonian Royal Palace 

King Constantine sat in his study, staring out the window.   

After hearing the devastating prognosis about his health from his personal physician, he directed his queen to track down and summon Leo as soon as possible. Regina, to her credit, tried to assuage her stepson’s concerns as to Constantine's urgency when she found him in the palace gymnasium.

However, Leo knew that his father would not have requested his presence so suddenly unless the news was dire. 

Constantine stood up as Leo and Regina walked into his office, his posture stiff, his face grim. 

Leo looked at his father and at once sensed the seriousness of the situation. 

"Father, you wanted to see me?" 

"Yes, son," Constantine said, his voice low. "I'm afraid I have received some rather unpleasant news." 

"What is it?" Leo asked, his concern piqued. 

"I've just come from a meeting with the royal doctors, and they've given me a prognosis." 

"Prognosis?" 

"Yes," Constantine said, his expression darkening. "They've determined that my health has deteriorated to the point where I can no longer carry out my duties as king." 

Leo's blood ran cold. He knew what was coming next.

"W-what are you saying?" 

"I'm saying that my time as king is over. And yours has begun." 

"What?" Leo swallowed loudly. 

"You're going to be crowned king, Leo. And you will ascend the throne immediately." 

"I have advised the Prime Minister to make the formal announcement tomorrow morning to the country." 

"I have begun preparations for your Royal wedding to Madeleine as well." Regina added. 

"What? No!" Leo shouted. 

"Calm yourself, Leo," Constantine admonished. 

"How can you ask me to calm down?" Leo demanded, his hands shaking. "You're asking me to give up my life, my freedom. My future." 

"As the Crown Prince, you know your duty to your country is paramount. It is what you have been preparing for since birth." 

"No. I won't do it." Shaking his head from this unexpected shock. 

"Don't be so dramatic, Leo," Regina said, her tone exasperated. "This is your birthright.” 

"It's not drama," Leo insisted. "I will not marry Madeleine. I don't love her. And she doesn't love me." 

"Love has nothing to do with it. You are betrothed to her noble house," Constantine stated. "This is about duty and honor." 

"And I won't be bound by either," Leo declared, his eyes blazing. "If I have to marry her, I'll abdicate. You can't make me be king." 

Constantine's jaw clenched, and he stared at Leo with a mixture of anger and disappointment. 

Leo turned and stormed out of the room, leaving his father and stepmother behind him, fuming. 

Constantine sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He'll come around, Regina." 

‘It’s hard to be the crowned prince 

When it all hits home 

You can’t hide behind the wall 

Around the throne’ 

💕Thanks for reading

Perma-tags:

@ao719 @queenmiarys @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @alj4890 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @harleybeaumont @busywoman @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @lovingchoices14 @kyra75 @tinkie1973 @emkay512 @malblk21 @kristinamae093 @charlotteg234

Submissions:

@choicesficwriterscreations @choicesflashfics

[crystcrm]

i was scrolling through the tags, and i got inspired by this. . .

i still haven't finished the quest yet ( but i know what happens </3 sad. ) and i live for dilfs honestly. and to think this would be my first kinda proper-ish genshin smut? something with a dilfy guy from sumeru who had 1 whole quest line.

maybe i should write for npcs more, because mm.. some of the genshin npcs are so... ♡

huffman.. wagner... timaeus started to grow on me lately... and now, jebrael.

anyway, we're kicking this off with some nice things about jebrael and a sweet kind-of-househusband-but-not-really-househusband reader!

p.s this is more of a .. drabble than an actual fic woop

the desert's darling ;; jebrael x male reader

content ;- porn with some plot , nsfw , fluffy things , soft dom jebrael , sub reader , anal sex , size kink , breeding kink / creampie , missionary ( idk positions ) , pet names ( darling )

nsfw below the cut, minors dni.

there isn't much out in the desert, but you've made it quite inviting for travelers alike to come and rest with you. letting them rest off their fatigue in your abode in aaru village. you've met all sorts of people— some students who weren't used to the life there, adventurers who needed a place to stay, some traders from the forest and ciry beyond the walls.

you weren't exactly sent off to live there— but... you chose to.

it was a home unlike any other... even if it was too hot sometimes.

you'd provide sweet drinks, lovely food and a place to stay to any and all who needed it. it sure helped take a load off the village chief and candace— they're more than happy to have your help.

but, amongst the many patrons you'd get, there'd always be some regulars that would come on by... a certain eremite and his daughter. back when they first came by, you were quick to learn jebrael and his daughter, jeht would be common faces.

to say you were enamored was... accurate, but honestly, who wouldn't gawk and stare when there was such a fine man in their house almost every month? you honestly felt like you'd want this man in your house forever.

you'd do everything for them, not even letting them lift a finger. breakfast, lunch and dinner were always prepared everyday. laundry was done and dried, folded up for them once more to bring on their travels. if the journey was rough, who's to say your hands wouldn't work at the knots in his muscled body too?

all in all, jebrael could say you were a perfect host. in fact, it almost felt like he had a sweet wife again. or, husband he should say. archons, he felt like he wanted you more and more with each time he visited.

he wanted you so much.

when night fell upon the desert, he knocked on the room of your door. jeht was fast asleep, he was sure of it. but fortunately you were still awake. always a late sleeper, wanting to make sure your guests were always comfortable before dozing off yourself.

you had a smile on as you welcomed him into your room, one that could make his heart ache, honestly. one that made him want to feel those lips of yours. but he didn't mean to make it drop when he suddenly brought up something about payment.

payment? why would he ever have to pay you? you never wanted to take anything of his, nor would you ever accept it.

clearly he had a different idea on how to pay you.

it just clicked when he stopped calling you by name, only coming in closer, softly calling you " darling " with that huskiness in his voice.

and you crumbled and caved.

and that's how you ended up on his lap, lips pushed together in a fervent kiss. he was much bigger than you, he could handle you with ease. just the thought of it made you shudder, melting into his touch some more. and clearly it made him go mad as well, groaning against your lips as his hands began to roam your body.

you could feel his hardened length beneath that pesky piece of fabric, your own arousal clouding your mind. if he was big... surely down there would be too. you didn't have to leave it up to imagination for long though.

before long, he had you in his arms, laying down on your bed. his calloused hands that would always do tough work were surprisingly gentle with you, never rough at all. especially when he slowly fingered you open, wanting to spread you open just for him. his lips were against yours, muffling your moans as his fingers worked their magic within you. the lube definitely helped, but he had been going at it for what felt like forever— was he really that worried he wasn't going to fit...?

your head was blank when his fingers left you feeling empty, jebrael merely chuckling at your whine as he repositioned himself. you could feel his tip prodding at your entrance, pulling your legs around his waist as he looked down at you.

" darling, eyes on me, " he gently tilted your head up to look at him, a small open mouthed smile on your face as you saw him. archons, he was so handsome. you could take in his features every time, but it was so clear up close and personal like this. but the slow thrust in distracted you, a shaky moan escaping your lips.

your sounds were angelic. and your insides were heavenly— those are definitely the words he'd use to describe it.

" ..a-archons.. relax.. darling, shit.. " he was gritting his teeth, trying to distract you from the pain of his size in all the ways he thought of. sweet nothings, sloppy kisses, lustful touches. he had a hand gently wrap around your own length, stroking softly as he penetrated further and further in you. he had you feeling so many things at once and you haven't even cum yet.

jebrael was panting heavily once he bottomed out in you, looking down at where you two were connected, feeling how your warmth captured him. he just wanted to stay there for a moment and relish in it, his sweet praises raining down upon you as he rested his forehead against yours.

it wasn't long until you began begging for him— begging for more, begging for something. and you were already mewling and moaning when he slowly dragged his hips back, soft squeals forced out of you as he pushed himself back in. a slow and deep pace, a rhythm meant for feeling and taking each other in.

time went on and his pace seemed to stagger— surely his age wasn't an issue in the picture right now- but rather he was so close to the edge since earlier, it was really hard to last when you were so sexy, ravishing even. it felt more erratic, his girthy length stretching you out and reaching your deepest parts as he angled himself better— to feel every inch of you.

your loud whines and moans were muffled once again, his lips capturing yours for a final kiss as you felt your high wash over you. a warmth spilled over your stomach, a rushing pleasure running all over your body. it wasn't long until jebrael joined you in this high, sheathing himself in your deepest parts before filling you up even more with milky white.

he let himself stay longer, finding you having no qualms against it.

well, this was just the first repayment. he still had more to give back to you after months of being his sweet desert darling.

oops, i wrote a lot more than i intended to...

[therealeagal]

Delicious In Dungeon

Once upon a time there was this golden kingdom and it like disappeared or some shit. Then it mysteriously reappeared underground in a dungeon. The king found his way to the surface, and said that whoever defeated the mad mage, an individual whose name is either the Mad Mage or the Mad Magician. I forget just at the moment. Anyway, that person was responsible for this catastrophe a and anyone who killed him would be king, and then the king died.

So anyway, some long time after that, we chance upon a team of adventurers fighting a dragon in the depths of the dungeon. And they're getting their asses kicked. Just as the dragon is chomping down on the team cleric, she casts a teleportation spell to get them all out except for herself.

Once back on the surface, two members of the party promptly bugger off, leaving the team comprising of three of our four main characters. There's the team leader, a warrior named Laios, whose sister was the cleric. There's Marcille, who is an elf. Possibly a half-elf? I think? I forget if that was ever mentioned or if I just made that up...Anyway, she's the team magic user.

And last but certainly not least (except in stature), the half-foot (your standard hobbit/halfling race) Chilchuck, who is the party rogue.

And so our adventure begins as Laios decides to get back into the dungeon and retrieve his sister's body before the deadline of resurrecting her passes (people can be resurrected in the dungeon. It's not a big deal). He initially intends to go it alone, but Marcille and Chilchuck decide to go with him. Rather than spend money they don't have on supplies, the party decides to live off the proverbial land and eat the magical creatures that infest the dungeon.

This is the part where the last main character joins the team, a dwarf named Senshi, who's a master chef who knows all about preparing the magical creatures of the dungeon for proper consumption.

And so they set off on a whirlwind adventure to save Laios' sister whose name is Falin.

It's kinda dumb, but also kinda charming.

Anyway, it's got an anime on netflix. Watch it, love it. If you don't, I hate you.

Thank you, that is all.

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Seven: Growing Pains Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 11.6k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST BB, hurt, argument, sexism, I love/hate Bo, strong language, crying, PTSD, Impulsive decisions, I love Taehyung so much, he is my sweet baby angel, we need better communication skills, mentions of a toxic relationship (not reader and Jimin), Anger issues, mental illness, long hair Jimin for the win, emotional turmoil, conflicting feelings, emotional whiplash, talks of possible character death, let me know if I missed anything A/N: Not me surprising dropping. This was such a difficult chapter to write. I enjoy angst and everything, and this was meant to be the catalyst to the adventure we need to take, but that doesn't mean I like causing pain. Hope you guys like it!

prev | masterlist | next

Bo and I stared at one another. Her jaw was clenched, and I could feel how tense my eyebrows were. We had been in this room for over an hour already and her stupid training was going nowhere. I did not want to learn how to talk to my husband properly. He enjoyed how I was already.

“Why are you making this so difficult?” She spat.

“Because I can,” I taunted. 

Her mouth twitched and I waited for her to finally snap. I would like a good fight to get all of my pent up frustration out. Instead, she took another deep breath and told me to point out the proper soup spoon. 

“This is the dumbest thing I have ever done in my life,” I mumbled and pointed at the smallest one in the set.

“And you’re the dumbest thing that’s come into mine,” She bit back.

“This is really unnecessary, Bo,” Sol sighed from beside me. “Y/N has better things to do than sit here and look at silverware. None of us even use these anymore.”

I looked at her and hoped she could see how grateful I was she was sitting here with me. When Bo showed up at Jimin’s house this morning, the Luna had followed behind her every step of the way hoping we could put the traditional nonsense behind us. I did not see the point in following their customs more than I already did and Sol herself said no one really cares about certain formalities anymore. Jimin seemed sad to watch me go but more pleased than he let on. Sol said these preparations were meant for our wedding and it made him happy to think about. That was the only reason I was still sitting here.

“I’m sure Oxur Park knows how much Alpha Park loves a woman with knowledge,” The wolf gave me a satisfied smirk. “Unless you’ve decided to take that from him, too.”

Bo had made it her mission to get me out of their palace. Believing I had somehow tricked Jimin into loving me, the wolf had no issue calling our bond into question. Apparently, her outdated beliefs ran much deeper than I had originally thought. Either way, she was beginning to make my life all the more difficult. I had enough going on as it was.

“You are the most infuriating woman I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

“And you are the sneakiest little weasel I have ever laid eyes on,” Bo hissed.

“You’re both acting like children,” Sol laughed. “Bo, can’t we go now? I promised my husband alone time with his friend.”

With a satisfied smirk, I leaned back in my chair. Bo was not happy with the girl, but Taehyung’s wishes overruled her own. The perks of being the pack alpha, I guess. I did not wait for Bo’s response before standing up. Sol followed me.

“I expect you in your own room tonight, child.”

I did not respond. Sol giggled and grabbed hold of my arm as we left the palace library. If I had come here on my own, I might have admired the massive shelves and the beautiful wood they were made from, but Bo’s presence ruined whatever joy I might have gotten. She was such a pain to deal with. Knowing my foul mood, Sol began babbling about her and Taehyung’s wedding for the third time today.

“Oh, I wish you could have been there,” She pouted. “Taehyung wanted to wait for you to wake up, but all of us decided it would be in his best interest to hurry along. I hope you’re not upset with us.”

That worked and I cracked a smile.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not upset about it.”

Leaning into my side, the younger girl sighed happily. She always got like this when she spoke of Taehyung. He was akin to God in her eyes now and it was a funny sight to see. She was always so stuck up and stressed when I had known her that this new version of her was strange to see. She laughed and joked with others in a way I had never seen before. Taehyung was the perfect match for the Luna, and I was pleased with how happy they both were despite everything going on.

“You’ll have to forgive Ha-Joon,” Sol waved at a small group of maids. “She’s just always pictured her daughter with Jimin, and her death has brought out the worst in her. Don’t take it too personally, okay?”

“Easy for you to say,” I murmured, “She doesn’t hate you.”

The group of maids stopped to bow. I returned the gesture, but Sol did not. She was never raised to respect her help. Tossing a small smile at the women, my eyes caught a familiar face and warmed. Koda grinned happily back at me.

“Oh!” Sol exclaimed suddenly. “Isn’t this the most coincidental situation?”

Stepping away from my side, the wolf gestured to the group. None of them make eye contact with the Luna. None of them even looked at her face. I could not understand how no one thought this was strange behavior, but it was the status quo. Hopefully I could speak with Taehyung about it. I do not think he would approve of this behavior at all.

“I was speaking with Elder Kim, and we decided that you need a servant,” Sol announced. “This group should do. See anyone you like in particular?”

She was completely serious. Not a shred of doubt or shame was written on her face. Sol was raised with this nonchalant way of ordering others around and it was disturbing to see in action. I would definitely speak to Taehyung. However, I could not deny the perks I saw. Looking at Koda, I knew I would be able to keep her safe as long as I kept her by my side. Giving the women a sympathetic look, I turned to Sol with a mask of indifference.

“If you think it’s necessary,” She smiled brightly. “Koda,” I looked at the older woman, “would you like to help me while I stay here?”

The woman walked to the front of the group. The other maids made space and suddenly none of them looked at me either. It was a horrible feeling and I wondered what they thought of me now. Wanting to make my intentions clear, I kept talking.

“Also, Sol,” I looked at my friend, “I don’t like the word 'servant'.’ Can we use something less… harsh? Like ‘companion?’ I don’t plan on staying here for very long so it just seems too,” I moved my hands and tried to find the softest explanation I could think of, “permanent.”

I was choosing my words carefully. Sol has never had her views challenged much and these women had been at her beck and call her entire life, so it was only natural she thought of them a particular way. I wanted to change her mind, but it would have to start with something small. The other maids seemed to relax, and their eyes wandered freely once more. I never wanted them to feel inferior to me.

“Hmm,” She cupped her chin, “I’ve never thought of that before. I like it.”

Turning her gaze to Koda, she grinned, “You will spend every moment at Oxur Park’s side. Under no circumstances will you leave her, understand?”

“Yes, Luna,” She bowed deeply. “Will I sleep in her chambers?”

“No!” I exclaimed. Flushing, I rubbed the back of my neck and bowed my head. “That won’t be necessary. I will be with Alpha Park during the night.”

Sol laughed heartily, “You’re just breaking all of the rules, aren’t you?”

I awkwardly joined her, “Might as well give her a reason for her dislike, don’t you think?”

Sol immediately dismissed the maids, Koda included, so we could continue our walk. Koda would be joining me tonight for my bath. I cringed at the thought and started to think of ways to talk to her about what I was expecting, or rather, not expecting her to do. I could do everything I needed on my own and had for many years of my life. I saw no need for someone else to bathe, dress, or tuck me in at night. Jimin would be the exception, but he was my partner and had seen me more intimately than others.

Sol continued to talk my ears off as we walked through the palace. I was still unnerved by how easily she commanded her maids. It was creepy. I could not picture Taehyung feeling comfortable by their pampering either, but would he ever say something that would offend his wife? It was difficult to say. 

I knew the other alphas had lived in the palace at points in their lives, and from what I had heard, Namjoon was still here full time. Unmated alphas were meant to stay in the palace until they were mated so they could be trained into leaders. Scowling, I thought of Ahn and his thick, white beard and how little help he was to everyone. No one ever spoke of him or his teachings, and Sol did not even seem bothered by her father-figure’s death. It gave me a sick sort of pleasure knowing that no one, possibly not even Bo, thought of him in a good light.

The repairs to the palace were the first to be completed. The elves had focused primarily on the civilian areas, and since the palace was the only place made of stone, the flames that ate away at the wooden homes in the main parts of the village. We had been seeing a great deal of progress in only four days, but there was still much to do. The town’s market was nowhere in sight, and they had only just gotten their water system back up.

“What does Taehyung want to talk about?” I asked. 

Sol had started a childhood story involving Ahn that I had no desire to hear.

“I’m not sure exactly,” She admitted, “He said he was hoping you two could go for a walk and catch up. It’s been a while since you’ve been alone.”

I nodded and pretended to listen as she jumped into another childhood story. Sol was a rather clumsy child. Looking at the dark stone, I felt my resentment growing. No one except for Taehyung had left to help the others. Not Kim nor Bo left their comfortable confines to help their community and yet they had time to talk about my manners and which servant I would get? It all seemed ridiculous to me. Even Sol herself was still living in la-la-land within these walls. Had she even seen what was done?

“You must promise to be our first child’s matrina,” Sol was talking about children. Again. Her unusual sense of pessimism was beginning to agitate me. “You are the only person I can think of I would trust with that honor. 

“Of course, Jungkook will have to be the patrinus, but I don’t think it will bother Jimin too much. He’s far too much like a brother to ask anybody else. Maybe for our second child? Taehyung would be overjoyed if you were both involved.”

I gritted my teeth and simply nodded along with her stories. Yes, a conversation with Taehyung was a must. Maybe he could make her see reason, or at least show concern for everyone else. At meetings she lounged on him like a cat and never paid attention when they spoke about serious matters. It was like her head was permanently up in the clouds. Had she always been so careless when it came down to things, or was this a new development since she joined Taehyung? I would never know the true extent of the answer, but I had to believe this was new. Sol was too serious before to let this kind of behavior out.

The large, cathedral windows let in the bright sun, but it was still so cold and dark in here. The maids had yet to fix the lighting fixtures inside yet, but even the candles they had lit did nothing to help. Our steps had a faint echo to them, and it made the lifelessness of the palace worse. I felt Sol’s hair brushing against my arm as she made herself comfortable at my side and had to stop myself from moving it out of my way. It was tickling my skin uncomfortably.

Sol let her hair out in the palace unlike any place else. The long, thick, black waves cascading down her back effortlessly, but I knew better now. Someone had spent a great deal of time and care perfecting the way it felt and twisted. Around her neck was the material she used to cover her hair and she would put it on if another man showed up here. It was something Ahn had made her do that made no sense to me either, but Sol was happy about it, so I never thought about it much.

“Koda is a wonderful woman,” Sol suddenly gushed, catching my attention. “You’ll like her very, very much.”

“What makes you say that?” I questioned, feigning disinterest.

“Well,” She started, “She was once a warrior before her sister died. She stopped shifting soon after that and moved into the palace so she could have a place to stay. Her sister’s husband kept their house and Koda was too uncomfortable to live there with him alone.

“Oh! I know she’s from out of town, so you can share many stories about that as well. The people from Viridi Gramine always have the most interesting lives. Take Hyuna for example, she’s the princess of her people and yet gave it all up for a life here with Hoseok. Isn’t it romantic?”

I stopped listening to her once again. It was useful information, and my interest only grew for the older woman. If she was from the Foxglove’s cousin pack that meant she would know a route through the Ozryn mountains. Hiding my revelation, I subtly picked up my pace. The sooner I got this meeting over with, the sooner I could find Cadoc. 

“She will be a wonderful companion for you to have,” Sol teased, placing extra emphasis on the chosen word. “I think I’ll start using that one as well. Servant does sound too harsh.”

I smirked in amusement. It was difficult to dislike Sol, especially when it seemed like she was having the most fun she had ever had. I imagined living with someone like Ahn was challenging. Still, her innocence and naivety were so odd when compared to her position in the pack. She was treated like glass that could shatter at any moment while held up as if she were a queen.

We descended down the large staircase in a companionable silence. That was rare for Sol, but I was sure as soon as our feet touched the first floor, she would start her rambling once more. It seemed like luck was on my side, however. Taehyung stood waiting for us, his eyes never leaving Sol’s little body. His happiness was enough to let go of my discomfort for Sol. She would learn in time, and Taehyung would be there to guide her. I would just steer him in the right direction. 

The clothes he wore were much nicer than anything I had ever owned. Navy blue silk contrasted beautifully with his tanned skin while the nearly black pants he wore extended his legs. He wore a pair of simple black boots and a matching belt. It was nice to see him so clean and dressed up. Soon we would not have those luxuries.

“Thanks for bringing her, mi conjunx.”

Sol bit her lip and looked down, “Of course, mi coniunx.”

“Bridd,” Taehyung smiled at me, breaking whatever spell he had been under, “May I take you for a small walk alone? I have something I need to discuss with you.”

“That’s why I’m here,” I squeezed Sol’s shoulder and walked down the last few stairs that separated us. 

It looked like Taehyung was physically pained to leave Sol’s side, but he showed as much restraint as possible. I heard her feet pitter-pattering back up the steps and Taehyung’s shoulders relaxed. They had spoken and it was still a mystery to me how it worked. I would have to ask Jimin about it later.

We stayed silent until we were out of the palace and walking out of Foxglove entirely. He wanted privacy today, so I waited until he was ready to speak to begin my questioning.

“How are you holding up?” Taehyung asked once we were well hidden within the trees.

I sighed. Cordelia’s passing had affected all of us, and Taehyung was beside himself with grief. He had hardly known her, but he was fond of everyone he met at my cottage. I confided in him about finding her body this morning. He stole me away for a few moments to ask my advice on his plans to invite the witches to stay in the palace, and the sea witch was brought up in conversation. I could tell he would make it a point to ask me about my emotional state whenever he got me alone.

“The etiquette classes have me thoroughly distracted,” I replied sadly. 

“And everyone else?”

“About as well as I am,” I muttered. “Wendy is in bad shape, but Seokjin is holding her close. I think they’re back in their confusing situationship again, which saddens me, but I understand. I can only hope it will be different this time.”

In truth, I had little hope. While Wendy may have decided she would choose Seokjin over Yoongi, I was also sure this budding relationship would fizzle out rather quickly. Wendy was once again latching onto the sun witch in a desperate attempt to make herself feel better, and like always, Seokjin would walk through fire to make her smile. I paid close attention to their dynamics, and it was reminiscent of old times. It was not lost on me, her lingering stare at Yoongi’s disabled figure laying on the floor near the fireplace during my short visit yesterday, and it made the pit in my stomach only grow.

Old habits die hard, and Wendy Byrd was too much of a daydreamer to put anything to rest. It made me uncomfortable to witness the same cycle play out once more. It sickened me to know the only reason she was not seeking out Yoongi was the fact that he was getting used to his new reality. One where he could no longer see. Seokjin was as hopelessly hopeful as always and put up those blinders once more. Life in pink so long as Wendy held him close. The front he had put up in my cottage so long ago was forgotten.

“They need to figure it out by themselves,” Taehyung replied. He was always telling me things I knew but I appreciated the sentiment. “I am curious about this sudden need to leave Bangtan.”

As always, Taehyung knew more than he led on. I did not know how he knew of my plans before I spoke to anybody else about them, but I was less surprised than I should have been. Cadoc and I had been completely alone in the forest that night, but if Taehyung was awake when we got back to the palace, he could have easily gotten an earful of whatever we were speaking about. I had learned during our time at my cottage that Taehyung’s sense of hearing was stronger than the other’s while Jimin’s smell and eyesight were almost double of what they should be.

“I should be far more surprised than I am,” I admitted. “You’re always such a nosey little minx, aren’t you?”

Taehyung chuckled with a nod. Nothing got past those eyes. I pondered over what to say to him. He always had a way of taking me by surprise and I knew Cadoc would not be upset with my slip of the tongue. No one would, actually. Looking at my friend, I reminded myself that he was my friend before he was the Alpha everyone else needed him to be. A man who loved to read my mythology books and ask questions about the forest creatures would never dare ask me to stay behind when there were adventures to be seen. I was also aware that he would be afraid of my loyalty. 

Cadoc had said I was becoming blinded by it. Loyal to a fault. Jimin and I were still at odds about my trip, but he had become resigned. We both needed for this to happen. For the sake of our friends and family I needed to try. I had failed once already, and I could not fail again.

“Are you going to talk to me about your secrets now?”

“I’m not staying in Bangtan for much longer,” I whispered, knowing he would be able to hear me just fine. “I have a different task. Something important.”

“I had guessed as much,” He laughed, an easy smile on his face. “Jimin is far too distracted, and the Quietus keep whispering to each other,” He stopped walking and turned towards me. “So, Bridd, where are you going?”

Biting my lip, I hesitated. How angry would he be if I told the truth? Angry was a strong word, I conceded. Taehyung was never angry, but I did not think he would be pleased. I was blatantly placing my own life in danger and lying to my mate about it. It was almost enough to make me rethink my choices.

“I need to find someone,” I said, bracing myself for the disappointment that was sure to make itself known soon. “When I died, I saw my aunt in the spirit realm, and she told me that I had to seek out an elemental called Naida.”

Taehyung frowned at me, his concern evident, but not so much so. He was not disappointed, but I could see fear. I could live with that. I was also afraid for my own life, but dwelling on those thoughts would get me nowhere. I had a mission to complete, and I would not be late this time. I would win. I had to. For my own sanity I would go.

“Is Jimin aware of this?”

I shook my head, “Nothing specific. He knows my plan to leave, but with everything so fresh and new I don’t want to worry him needlessly.”

“You are planning on telling him,” He pushed, “Right?”

I nodded, “The plan is to leave at sunset tomorrow. I’ll have more coverage at night just in case there are elf camps in the forest.”

I thought about the elf camp Jimin stalked that first night and shuttered. There were so many of them out there who had not come into the village. It was baffling to me why they would hesitate in their fighting only to move on so quickly. It gave the wolves too much time to plan and strategize and I knew they were not foolish enough to think they had better odds now. The wolves were on guard. The only thing that made sense were allies hiding in our ranks. Allies who were telling them our every move.

“Tell me something,” I dropped my voice even lower. “If I promise you that I will come back with help, will you keep the truth from the others?”

Stopping in his tracks, Taehyung stared at me. Jimin said the two of them had been speaking of a possible traitor and I would hope my friend would understand my perspective. My loyalty to the both of them was all consuming, my love was my life, and I would do whatever it takes to help them. Even if it meant lying to the man I loved more than life itself.

“I can’t keep something like this from him, Y/N,” Taehyung sighed. “You are my friend, but so is Jimin, and you cannot ask me to pick one over the other.”

“Even with the spy?” I challenged.

He looked through me then, his eyes burning a hole into my face searching for something. I don’t think I would ever know what Taehyung saw in me that day, but whatever it was it gave him pause. I had never felt just how strong or large Taehyung was until that moment. His frame towered over mine, his legs long and lanky, and his face impassive. That impenetrable wall that I found so disconcerting.

“Even then,” He smiled at me. “I would never risk your life or Jimin’s friendship. Even if you begged me to keep quiet, I would let him know the moment you were out of my sight.”

And I could not stop my returning grin. This was what I loved most about the boy, his endless love and compassion for others. He played tricks, told jokes, and made my head hurt from his never ending questions, but he also adored me in ways I had never been before. He adored my brain, my thoughts, and my courage. 

A memory of us in the cottage came back to me then. The sun had just come up and I had just gotten home. My training with Thelma had been brutal that night and I had hardly done anything, and my emotions were growing, expanding, and becoming harder to manage. Jimin was still asleep, his pale skin beautiful in the sun, and I did not want to disturb his peace.

When I went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea, I found Taehyung already up and a book in his lap. We had our typical small talk, a morning just like any other, but once I sat down at the dining table, I found him just watching me. The book was long gone, his face hard, and his eyes observing me. Those eyes that took in everything they possibly could. I wondered then if he knew what I was doing, where I was going, and why. Instead of answering those questions, Taehyung pushed his growing hair out of his eyes and beamed at me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how thankful I am that you’re letting me stay here,” He said.

Tired and worn, I brushed him off like I always had. I was never the one for compliments and did not know what to say, especially with my guilt eating me alive. Taehyung ignored whatever poor attempts I had made to make him stop talking.

“Thank you,” He bowed his head. “I will never forget your kindness or strength. Hell, even your anger! You’re the first person I’d ever seen make Namjoon lose his cool.”

I ignored him and sipped on my tea. I don’t even think I looked at him again. I drank my tea, listened, and hoped Jimin would not wake up. I wanted to sleep in his arms for a while. It made the nightmares more bearable.

“I know you don’t really like this kind of thing,” Taehyung continued to babble. “I know you’re uncomfortable because of the way your hands tremble and your breathing changes. I’m sorry you don’t feel like you deserve my praise, but I want to give it to you anyway.”

“Why?” I rasped, looking out of the large window beside me.

It was the same window a white wolf had come to and asked for help.

“Because you’re hurting right now, and I want you to know it’ll be okay. No matter what happens you will always be my friend, and Jimin will always love you.”

Looking around me now, it was difficult to imagine a more beautiful sight. It had been so long since I last saw the trees in the sun, and it took my breath away. The heat and warmth were never far away but still felt foreign on my skin. It was still as quiet as a mouse out here, but I basked in its beauty regardless. Taehyung’s teeth were blinding, and I needed to squint.

“We’ll always be friends, right?” I asked.

He held up a pinky, “Always.”

I wrapped my finger around his and sighed.

Diving into the story once again, I told Taehyung why I had been distraught during those last few weeks. His reaction, much like the rest of him, was completely different from both Cadoc and Jimin’s. Even the witches had nothing on Taehyung, because as soon as I was finished, Taehyung hugged me and told me he loved me.

“What?” I choked.

“You were so afraid,” He patted the top of my head and pulled away. “You worked so hard for my family and friends. Thank you.”

“But-but,” I spluttered, “I messed up. I didn’t say anything. I got all of those poor people killed. My own friend-”

“But you tried so hard,” Taehyung soothed. “You wore yourself out learning those spells, you spent every single night trying to get better, and kept it all bottled up. How could I be mad at you for that?”

“Because I let you down,” I muttered. “I let everyone down.”

“No, you didn’t,” He chuckled. “When it counted you were there. You killed yourself, quite literally, mind you, for all of us without knowing it would work. You fought by our sides and gave up a life in the spirit world. You gave up your best friend.”

Bringing Shiloh up tugged on my heart strings. I missed her so much. I knew I would see her again someday, but I hoped she got her wish in the end. She deserved to be beautiful and dance in the sunlight like she always wanted. Sword fights and cooking were two things she dreamed of, and I knew she would be amazing at both if given the chance. I could only hope her hair would be as brightly colored as she imagined even when her human mind forgot all about our adventures. She would even forget about me. 

“And after it all you’re still you.”

Looking up at Taehyung, another facet of his personality made itself known to me. On top of his naive, golden-hearted mischief, Taehyung was also a wiseman. Aldara had spoken of his grandmother before, and I could see that that trait was passed onto her eldest grandchild. 

“But I still did a bad thing,” I whispered, my voice thick. “And I want to make sure I do everything I can possibly do to make this easier on us. I need all of you to live, Tae. I couldn’t bare it if anyone else died.”

“And we need you to live, too, Bridd,” He replied gently.

I said nothing. I knew that was the truth, but we obviously had different ideas about what was important. My own life meant very little to me after the fight with the elf. Hell, my life had meant little to me the night I found the cottage on fire, but I understood where Taehyung was coming from. I was his friend and he wanted to make sure I was alright. Thinking of Jimin, I knew my life meant even more to him. Still, I held onto my own ideas and that included keeping all of them as far away from harm’s way as possible.

He smiled sadly, “Who are you bringing?”

I sighed, “I haven’t made a decision yet. I don’t want to place anybody at risk or leave you unprotected in case I don’t make it back in time,” I did not voice my concerns for not returning at all. “Cadoc thinks Samanya should be with me, but she’s so fierce I’d rather be here to watch over Jimin.”

“Koda is a wonderful option,” Taehyung suggested after a beat. “She was a warrior in Viridi Gramine and served with the copiae for many years. She would be helpful for getting you to Ozryn and the Quietus would be extra security.”

I could not say the plan was bad, it was far too good, but that was the problem. Koda was an older woman now who could no longer change as far as I knew. She would be slow, and I would have to work twice as hard keeping her out of harm's way. I would have better luck going alone with Sam and finding our own way. 

“Then again,” The alpha sucked his teeth, “Koda is rather old. Perhaps Jungkook? No, he’s a boy and too childish.”

The ‘prince’ as Ahn dubbed him was always ready for a fight and light on his feet. He reminded me of Taehyung and Hoseok wrapped up into one young man, but I had my doubts on his ability to follow instructions. Anytime I had seen Jungkook he was either in trouble or on his way into it. So, for my own sanity in the coming weeks, I would agree with Taehyung.

“What about Hoseok?” Taehyung snapped his fingers. “Oh! He would be a perfect choice.”

I nodded along with him knowing I would never ask the alpha to come with me. He and Hyuna were a package deal and that was too many to take along. If I was taking Samanya then I would only bring one other, and I doubted his mate would allow him to go regardless. He almost died a few days ago and was still on bed rest at their home. 

“It’s too bad he’s resting,” I threw out knowing it would rule him out entirely. “I should just take Samanya and the two of us can figure it out together.”

“There’s always Namjoon.”

I shook my head vigorously.

“Absolutely not.”

I had made peace with the wolf during the fight, and I was certain our fight in my meadow was long forgotten. It did not mean I wanted to shack up with the alpha. He had proven to me his fickle nature and inability to make a decision on his own. He would be easily swayed, and I did not respect him for it. The thought of traveling with him made my head hurt.

“So stubborn,” Taehyung teased. “Fine. I’ll leave it alone.”

“Thank you.”

“Now,” He grinned, “Care to go gather some of those books I like so much? I think they’ll be a nice way to decompress during the night.”

Walking through the streets, I was pleased by the progress everyone had made rebuilding. The market was still destroyed, but so many homes and businesses on the southside were almost completely finished. The north, were the copiae lived, would be the last place rebuilt. Elder Kim had said the children needed a place to go and the few homes that stood were not enough to house them all. Bo, in her typical fashion, was upset by this but held her tongue. 

She never wanted to disrespect a man. The thought made me roll my eyes.

Spotting Namjoon, I was pleased to see him and Taehyung working together. The younger alpha’s family home had been destroyed, all of them having to stay in the palace’s already crowded towers, but his mother was going stir crazy. Catching my gaze, Namjoon offered me a small, hesitant wave. I responded with a polite smile and continued walking. Taehyung was none the wiser. 

I was greeted many times, all of them kind, and I tried to stop and help however I could. My magic was still weaker than I would like, and I had not had any time to flex my abilities since the attack. Today, I was hoping to change that. 

“Would you like for me to help you with that?” I asked an elderly couple struggling to lift leftover roof tiles from their recent repairs.

“That would be lovely, Oxur Park,” The man replied, his voice gruff. “Just put them in that wheelbarrow. We’re giving the rest to Alpha Taehyung’s family.”

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and attempted to focus. I was lucky the pieces were in a fairly neat pile and would be simple to move so long as I concentrated. A bead of sweat formed on my eyebrow. Lifting my hands, I mumbled under my breath.

“Flotian,” Cracking an eye open, the pile lifted effortlessly.

As quickly as possible, I brought the tiles to the wheelbarrow. Panting now, I knew I needed to flex my muscles a bit more. I was out of shape, and it was showing. With a loud clang, the tiles were ready to be pushed to Taehyung’s.

“Need a hand?”

Dropping my stance, I wiped my forehead and looked at Namjoon. He looked as weary as he had a few moments before, but this time I gave him a real smile. He returned it awkwardly. Whatever had happened during the battle had worn off, his confidence in helping me was replaced by the tongue-twisted man who had stood in my living room begging for forgiveness. Like so many, I owed him an apology as well. Gesturing at the wheelbarrow, I nodded. 

“Thank you,” The old woman gushed. “God bless you both!”

Embarrassed, I ducked my head and bowed to the couple. Getting busy with the task, I pointed out a few loose pieces that would not fit in the wheelbarrow. Namjoon gathered them and handed them to my outstretched hands. Taking hold of the heavy, blue metal, the alpha began pushing. I used magic and the leftover tiles floated, following us back down the road.

“Taehyung tells me you are traveling to Viridi Gramine soon.”

I was not expecting small talk, but I was even more taken aback by the lie. The boy was quicker than I thought. The fib would make my disappearance easier to swallow without leading the spies on my trail. It did, however, pose an issue for their neighbors. If the elves believed the wolves to be ready for an attack out East, they may choose to invade sooner.

“Yes,” I lied easily, the word falling off my tongue with such conviction I was almost convinced myself. “I leave in a few days.”

“Would you like an extra set of hands?” He asked. “I know you and I have been on differing sides as of late, but I would like for that to change. I do respect you immensely.”

I smiled sadly. After speaking so ill of the man earlier today he was ready to drop everything to help me. Even if it was to make amends, I acknowledged how unpleasant being away would be. If I were less prideful, I may have accepted his proposal. As it stands, my pride was the only thing I still had to hold on.

“I owe you an apology,” I replied. “I was not fair to you. I let my anger blind me. It seems that’s all I’m good for these days.”

I thought of Jimin and his gentle caresses. I did not deserve his kindness. With the rumors spreading he was bound to hear of Taehyung’s lie. He would have a few choice words for me, that I was sure, but I knew we would work through it if I was given a chance to explain myself. He trusted me enough to allow me that. At least, I hoped he did.

“Regardless,” I sighed, “I’m sorry. I was out of line. I hope you can forgive me.”

“I have never been known to hold grudges for very long,” The man replied. 

“Still, I will have to decline the offer,” I threw the tiles on the ground. We were at the edge of Taehyung’s property and the young alpha was hard at work. With barely more than a small wave, Taehyung greeted us. Sparing Namjoon a tight-lipped smile, I continued. “I want as many people in Bangtan as possible. I’m traveling with a small group of quietus.”

Namjoon nodded, his long hair falling out of its loose ponytail. 

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“I’m sure I won’t.”

With that, I bid both alphas goodbye and turned back around. 

Standing in front of Jimin’s home was a short, pear-shaped woman. Her salt and pepper hair falling messily around her shoulders, thick bangs boxing in her already squared face. Tanned and beginning to show signs of her aging, her eyes crinkled happily at their corners as I approached. Her dress was tighter than it should have been, almost indecent in comparison to the other women around, but her large hips made it difficult to sew around. Her body would be considered provocative by the men, but the sight of it only made me feel inferior. 

I had not realized Jimin’s mother was so beautiful.

“Y/N,” She greeted me happily, her voice soft and sugary sweet.

I bowed, covering my chest with a hand, and closed my eyes. I needed only a second to regroup myself. I had not been prepared to meet my fiance’s mother today. Especially without him by my side. Mi-Jeong radiated positive energy and her smile was infectious. I hoped I looked as happy as she did, but I only felt myself growing more overwhelmed.

“Good afternoon, Mrs.Park,” I winced at how breathless I sounded. I cleared my throat. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” She winked. I did not know why. “You’re just in time for lunch.”

Ushering me inside, I was relieved to hear Jin’s loud voice booming over all of the others. Yoongi was no longer on the living room floor, and Wendy’s gentle laugh mixed with the others. Elated, I quickly took off my shoes and made my way into the kitchen. Mi-Jeong followed behind me, her little feet pitter-pattering against the wooden floors.

The little house was in perfect condition and the smell of fresh paint hung in the air. Spotting Callisto and Hyun-Jin, I smiled at the paint staining their clothes. At least we were all trying to make the most of our horrible situation. Enver was the first to spot me and a huge, face-splitting smile broke out across his little face.

“Bridd!” He cried; his excitement palpable. 

A streak of baby blue paint stuck to his cheek, but I did not care. The boy ran to give me a hug and I felt the wet paint soak through my dress. Greeted with loud, obnoxious cheers, I waved the others off and let go of my young friend. Yoongi looked around and I was sad to see he was still disabled. I had a feeling that would be a part of his life now. I hoped it would one day fade, but I was not sure the magic elves used to cause such damage.

“You have to try this,” Wendy moaned, pushing a large plate of noodles my way. 

The noodles were thick and covered in a thick, chunky, black sauce. They smelled heavenly. Wendy passed over her pair of chopsticks and gestured at the plate once more. Her mouth was still filled. Picking up a large mouthful, I slurped.

They were delicious. So savory and salty it made my eyes close in content. The noise of content I made was involuntary and I quickly went in for another bite. The plate was pulled away from me and I scowled. Yoona raised an eyebrow at me.

“Is there meat in this?” I asked.

“Pork,” Callisto replied, chewing on a large plate of vegetable noodles.

My stomach turned uncomfortably, and I was suddenly less enthusiastic. They were so delicious; I was almost angry about the pork’s presence. Still, I watched Yoongi bite down on a piece of fried fish and felt less guilty. These were trying times and beggars could not be chooser. I grabbed the bowl back, took another large bite, before Yoona pulled back her way.

“There’s plenty of food. You don’t get to hog all of the Jajangmyeon.”

Someone tapped my shoulder. Mi-Jeong smiled at me, and it reminded me so much of Jimin’s I paused. Holding up a pair of clean chopsticks, she chuckled. I handed Wendy back the borrowed sticks and took my own. Seemingly satisfied, the little woman elbowed her way into the circle and began to grab the dishes she wanted for herself.

The dining table was far too big for all of us to sit at and it seemed everyone chose to stand. Yoongi and Tae-Jin, who had been discharged from the infirmary this morning, were the only two who sat. Mi-Jeong moved Enver out of her way and sat. I could see Wendy placing food on Yoongi’s plate and frowned.

I would have a talk with her about that at some point. I did not have the time or patience to deal with any of that right now. Jin noticed where I was looking and turned. With a deep sigh, he shook his head, but ignored it. It was probably for the best. A couple’s quarrel would cause a huge uproar within the families. 

“Good to see you walking around, Mr.Kim,” I greeted Jin’s father.

“Nice to see you, too, kid.”

Passing around bowls and plates, I listened to the conversations around me. Jin and Wendy helped Jimin’s family with the construction repairs, and Mi-Jeong let Enver pick out the new colors for the walls. She had taken a very big liking to the boy. Thelma and the other women were taking a break from helping a family a few houses down but were planning on getting back to work as soon as they were finished eating.

“I was able to get Mannix this morning,” Jin threw my way. “Poor boy was shaking and so scared. He fell asleep in Callisto’s bed.”

I frowned. August, Yoongi’s cat, rubbed against my legs and I guessed he had gone for both of them. Hopefully the two of them will feel better soon. They had been left alone for quite a while. Wendy started talking about the witches from Syrena. Apparently, her coven was planning on coming out to the village to help. That brightened my mood. At least, in my absence, others will be around to help.

Callisto and Mi-Jeong soon left the room taking Thelma and Tae-Jin in tow. They were going to figure out a way to fix some of the loose floorboards in my future sister-in-law’s room. The circle around the table started to dissipate leaving only Yoongi, Jin, Wendy, and Ji-Hyun behind. The three of my friends were all jokingly loudly with one another as I took Mi-Jeong’s seat.

“So, Viridi Gramine?” Ji-Hyun’s eyes were telling, and I knew from the arch of his brow he did not believe Taehyung for a second. “Are you sure you can trust a Quietus to take care of you?”

The wolf was relaxed, his face and body language giving nothing away. Crouched beside my chair we would look like we were having a normal conversation, but he could not keep the malice out of his tone. Sinking into the chair, I turned my body towards his and hoped I could remain neutral. I did not want to fight with Jimin’s brother, but I refused to be intimidated.

I cleared my throat, “I’m sure we will be just fine.”

I did not have the heart to tell him I had yet to make any real decisions. That this entire trip was going to be a convoluted road of impulsive decisions. That I was going to be in more danger than anyone else could ever know. Ji-Hyun’s icy glare told me I did not need to say a word. He already knew what I was doing. His eyes were far more unnerving than Taehyung’s.

“Well,” He spoke softly, careful to keep the others from overhearing, “We can all hope you change your mind. Seeing you hurt would be heartbreaking for my brother. He barely survived it the last time.”

I had to commend the boy; he was very good at laying on the guilt. A thick cloud of shame wrapped itself around my body and it took effort to keep my expression neutral. Again, as it had been for days now, my anger bubbled to the surface. I could not remember being this angry in many, many years. I thought back to Namjoon and the incident in my front yard and looked away. 

I was lying to myself. Lying horribly. If I said I could not remember the last time I was able to relax then that would be more truthful. Anxiety and anger were a part of who I was, but I did a wonderful job at hiding it behind snarky comments and isolation. I had never been around so many people for this long and hiding these facets of my personality were growing harder and harder. Soon it would be impossible. This trip could be a blessing in disguise. Once again, I wanted to go off on my own. I knew I was lonely- it was companionship that I was working out.

I thought of Shiloh and sighed heavily. At least she knew when to give me my space. No one else seemed to understand my needs the same way. It was to be expected. She had been with me since I was a young child and never once thought about going away. When the others moved on with their lives after Aldara’s death, when they left me to destroy myself after I burned my bridges, there was Shiloh and her kindness. The singular light in my life for as long as I could remember- the only shine coming close being Yoongi. Now I was alone again and did not know when they would leave. This time, my closest ally was dealing with his own problems and would not have time for mine.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll see.”

It clicked then. Ji-Hyun believed I was fleeing.

“You may have everyone else fooled,” His voice was so soft, so low, I was positive we were the only two who could understand a word he said. “But know this- if you ever hurt my brother again, I will not be so forgiving. Taehyung is a fool to let you do this. I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”

Smirking at my distress, Ji-Hyun pushed his hair out of his face.

“You’re abandoning us,” He cocked his head to the side and gave me a scathing once over. “Jimin would be a fool to think overwise. You will always be a coward. I mean, you let my friends die without blinking an eye, what’s the rest of them?”

Disgusted, I stood and placed my chopsticks in the kitchen sink before stalking back outside. I did not need to put up with his bullshit on top of everything else I was handling. He should feel lucky I walked away. Violent images of striking the boy with fire filled my head followed by ripping his head off the way I had the elf’s.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I used all of my willpower to push my murderous thoughts to the deepest corners of my mind. Again, I was losing control. Stepping out front, I took a breath of fresh air and made every attempt to calm my racing heart. Instead of calm, however, I became even angrier. Because right in front of me was none other than Jimin, the love of my life, looking at me as if I were a perfect stranger.

“Leaving already?” He asked, eyes narrowed.

Great, just great, now he was mad at me as well. My already shaky control was spiraling. I felt my skin heating and my breathing picked back up. I was going to explode if he did not stop. I bit my lip and took a nice, deep breath. His scent did little to calm me. In fact, a small spike in anxiety only made my fists clench. 

“I’m going for a walk,” I managed to get out, my voice far lighter than I was expecting. Jimin’s face darkened. “I didn’t realize it was taboo. Is walking illegal now?”

My sarcasm was not aiding either one of us right now. Whatever the reason for his anger, I should not be egging him on. Yet, I could not stop it. Trembling, I closed the front door and took a few more steps outside. Jimin did not move. I did not want to get any closer to him.

“Why is Taehyung lying to everyone?” He demanded, voice low and husky.

“Ask him yourself,” I snapped, already fed up with everyone and their conclusions.

“Are you lying to me?”

Scoffing, I shoved our shoulders as I passed him. He gave me a low, warning growl and turned to face me. Whatever voice that usually told me to bite my tongue was not around. It must have realized I would not listen. Looking up at him, I struggled to figure out how I really felt. Angry? Sad? Disappointed?

Looking into his eyes, I realized I was hurt. And that was a recipe for disaster. Steeling, I shook my head and looked at my feet. I had forgotten my shoes in my haste to get out of there.

“I told you we would speak, didn’t I?” I challenged. “How is that lying to you? Have you no faith in me at all?”

His pained expression told me everything that I needed to know.

“Of course,” I pulled away from him as if I had been burned. “Why would you anyway? It is me after all.”

“Amica-”

“No,” I threw my hands up. “I’ll see you later.”

I needed time to cool off and get my head back on. We had yet to argue, and I knew I would soon devolve into insults and petty jabs. I walked away without looking back, ignoring him calling out for me. He didn’t understand. They never understand.

I should have known he could never forgive me.

Koda stood beside my bedroom door, a large towel in one hand and a small pile of cloth in the other. Her thin clothes would have done little to help me in the cold hallways, but I doubted she felt the draft. She gave me a gentle smile as I approached which I returned. It seemed she would be adhering to Sol’s request from this morning.

“What time will you be leaving tonight?” She asked, handing me the towel.

“After I bathe,” I replied. “I will shift and leave through the broken window downstairs.”

Koda chuckled breathily. We were both keeping our voices down. Neither one of us wanted our conversation to be overheard by prying ears. I knew Bo was listening, but her chambers were on the opposite side of the palace. Even if she tried her best, I doubted she would be able to hear us- unless she was lurking around corners. I would not put it past her.

“That’s been repaired,” Koda sniffed the air, paused, and continued to walk. “I’ve broken the latches on your bedroom window, so you should be able to leave easily tonight.”

After my bath, Koda left me to dress myself and walk back to my room. She was trying to respect my privacy as much as possible, but I knew it was difficult for her to watch me do what she perceived as her job. I would never get used to someone else washing my hair- it was strange. She did, however, put her foot down about drying my hair properly. 

“You will get sick, Y/N,” She scolded me gently, her fingers already in my hair.

She took great care and time drying the strands. She never pulled too hard or placed too much pressure on my scalp. After drying it completely, she ran oils and products through it that smell heavily of rose. I tried to convince her to let me go earlier, pleading that I needed to see Jimin, but she refused to budge. Koda was stubborn when she wanted to be.

By the time I left, it was long past midnight, and I was certain that Jimin would already be in bed. Before I could make it to him, Cadoc was floating beside me and told me we needed to speak. Tonight, we would talk about the trip and who I would be bringing. Tomorrow I will be leaving. It only served to make me all the more restless. Tonight, would be our last night and I wanted to get as much time in as I could. Even if it started with an argument, I was hopeful we could end it entangled in his bed.

“What?” I snapped, landing on the ground.

Shifting back, I stood in the destroyed market in nothing but the thin, cotton gown Koda gave me. The air was far more bothersome as a human than a bird and I rubbed my arms. Cadoc smiled apologetically and raised his arms in surrender. 

“We will be quick, okay?”

I grit my teeth and nod.

“Have you made a decision yet?” He asked.

“I will go with Sam,” I conceited, hoping this conversation would be over soon.

“She will be pleased to hear that,” Cadoc grinned. “Lorcan will deliver everything you need to take with you tonight. Look over it as much as you can tomorrow, and Sam will meet up with you at your cottage.”

“Thank you.”

Cadoc shook his head, “No thanks needed.”

My skin itched to walk away from him. I wanted to see Jimin, but I knew this was an important conversation. Trying my best to stay pleasant, I nodded and forced a smile on my face. From Cadoc’s amused expression, I failed miserably. Bidding me a goodnight, Cadoc vanished into the wind leaving me alone once more. 

Jimin was pacing when I walked into his small home. His hair was let loose, the silver strands frizzed and wild, but beautiful, nonetheless. Our fight this afternoon was still bothering him, and when I closed the front door, his head snapped in my direction. Worrying his bottom lip, I could see blood pooling where he had bitten off his skin. Eyes turning into slits, Jimin’s glare was murderous.

“So, you’re planning on getting yourself killed?”

The question hung in the tense air. Whatever hopes I had for this being a good night were dashed away. Cocking his head to the side, Jimin waited for me to speak but I could not find the words to say. He knew and I was at a loss. Taehyung must have said something in the fear that I really would take the cowardly route. 

“Nothing to say?” Jimin pushed, seething. “You had plenty to say at my mother’s. Come on then, tell me.”

I scowled. His bad attitude was understandable, but it did little to soften my increasingly hurt feelings. That anger from earlier was rearing its ugly head. I had plans to tell him tonight and I was angry at Taehyung for going behind my back. Squaring my shoulders, I sighed loudly.

“I doubt you’d listen to me anyway,” My voice was cold and hard. Far harder than I intended for it to be. “You’ve already seemed to have your mind made up about things.”

Scoffing, Jimin marched towards me with a purpose. Standing my ground, I tried my best to dispel my growing anger with little success. My newfound temperament would only make this situation worse but when our chests pressed together and Jimin looked every bit the alpha he was, I did not care. I wanted to scream and fight, bite and scratch, maybe then I could feel myself relax. Maybe all of my anger was a buildup of pressure that I desperately needed to get rid of. 

“Why is it that I have to hear about this plan of yours from Sol of all people?” He demanded. 

Of course, Taehyung would have spoken to his mate about our conversation. I was foolish to believe anything between us would remain a secret. Now, Sol’s face flashed through my mind and my resent bubbled over. Who the hell was she to tell Jimin anything? 

“Why are you taking her word over mine?” I challenged, my teeth gritted.

“Stop answering my questions with questions!” Jimin shouted, walking away from me. “I believe Sol more than anybody. More than you. At least one of you has never kept anything from me.”

That was a low blow and we both knew it. Instead of remorse, the flash of guilt that came across his face soon morphed into indifference. He almost seemed proud of the insult. I refused to cry, the angry sting in my eyes only adding fuel to my already raging fire, and I swallowed thickly. Two can play this game but if he was more concerned about winning then I would gladly let him insult me alone. Taking a step back, I prepared to leave for the night. 

“For what it’s worth,” I looked at my feet, “I really am sorry.”

“Stop apologizing to me,” Jimin snapped, his voice so harsh and critical it made me cower. “You’ve done nothing but apologize for days. What else can you do?”

I knew he was just upset and hurt by my plans, our fight only making this one that much worse. I knew he would never say something like that to me under normal circumstances. I knew he would feel awful for his choice of words once he had the chance to cool off. Yet, the hurt and anger spread through my chest and infected every part of my body. He was right, I could not offer him anything but apologies. I knew it was too good to be true. Spiraling once more, I did not realize I was crying until the tears ran down my neck and tickled me.

“Don’t apologize when you’re going to keep doing this shit,” He spat, each word laced with venom. He was only a few feet away from me and I had never felt further away from him. “Apologize when you decide to change. Apologize when you realize I don’t need a martyr- I need someone who won’t lie and keep things from me.”

“I skewed up, alright?” I finally responded, “But I never once lied to you.”

“Yes-”

“No,” I cut him off, my blood boiling. “I did not lie. I told you I was leaving, that it would be difficult, and I told you I would tell you when I knew more.”

“But you were thinking of lying to me till the end!” He screamed.

“I admit that,” I shot right back, my voice growing louder. “I would do anything if it meant you were safe- even if that meant lying to you.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you!”

“Morologus es!”

The silence was so very loud then. Bottom lip wobbling, I took yet another step back. Whatever comeback I could have thought of fell short. Jimin’s conviction was astonishing, and his doubt felt like a punch in the gut. I needed to get out of here. I could hardly breathe, and his scent was becoming suffocating.

“Stop using me as an excuse,” His onslaught continued. “Just admit you want to be the hero. You can’t just be happy with me- no! You have to be the Bridd who runs, and jumps, and begs for the slightest bit of danger if it means she can be the victor! Even when it means getting an entire village killed!”

His words felt like a slap in the face. Was that the reason he thought I wanted to go? It had never even crossed my mind, but the confidence he held made me doubt myself. Wiping my face, I shouted obscenities and tried to catch my breath. I knew he blamed me. It was all my fault. All of this was my fault. Jimin completely ignored me and stood a few feet away, his words like knives, and his gaze like stone.

“This-” He gestured between the two of us, “-Whatever you think you may feel for me is wrong. You don’t love me. This is not love. Running towards your death to redeem yourself is not loving me.”

“Sorry doesn’t fix everything,” He murmured, the edge finally beginning to soften.

“Did you say something to your brother?” I demanded.

“Wh-what?” He spluttered.

I laughed humorlessly, “Cut the shit, Jimin. Whatever you’ve said about me has obviously affected his view of me, or was calling me murderer some one-off occurrence? Somehow, I have a hard time believing he’s come to that conclusion all on his own.”

“Ji-Hyun would never say something like that,” He hissed, his breath heavy. “Why would I speak badly about you behind your back? Unlike you, I’m an upfront person.”

My anger flared once more, and I could slowly see the corners of my vision distorting. As badly as I wanted to end this fight and make up, I knew that would not be possible. Not now. Not ever. Again, he was calling me a liar. Again, I would have to fight this uphill battle to prove myself. Again, I was losing a game I never knew I was playing in the first place.

Cadoc had been wrong. Love was never given freely. Nothing in this life was. Jimin would always need for me to prove myself to him. I would have to fight, bite, scream, and scratch if I wanted to show him that I care. Why I ever hoped it would be different was foolish on my part. 

“Are you so angry at me that you’re dragging my brother into this?” He shouted.

I scoffed, “There you go again, treating me as if I am some kind of irrational monster. So, I ask you again, do you really think that little of me?”

Jimin said nothing. Frustrated and tired, I finally had enough. I could smell ash and smoke all around me, and I knew I was about to find myself back at my cottage. Cordelia’s face was in my mind, Aldara’s arm hanging out of the wolf’s mouth, and I knew I needed to leave. Numb and slowly dissociating, I sniffled.

“Fine.”

“What?” He had the nerve to look abashed.

Hand on the front doorknob, I shook my head in defeat. It was over. Jimin was rejecting my love and whatever else I had to offer him. He did not believe in me at all. Somehow that hurt me more than the rejection. His faith had always been constant, his love tender and warm, and that was gone now, too. I had nothing. I was nothing. I deserved whatever I had coming to me. Finally, I had gotten my wish. Finally, he was shouting.

“I didn’t mean to ruin your life,” Devoid of emotion, I sniffled. “I know I made a mistake, but I’m trying my best. Doesn’t that matter?” My voice tapered off towards the end.

Jimin said nothing. I turned the knob and was back outside. I stopped waiting for him to stop me once I could no longer see his home. My feet felt like they weighed twenty pounds each and dragged along the dirt road beneath my feet. I needed to get back home. I chuckled humorlessly when I realized I no longer had one.

I truly gave up on him coming to gather me in his arms once the palace came into view. It was eerily quiet tonight and I wanted to go get lost. I wanted to forget. I wanted to leave. 

The thought occurred to me so quickly, so easily, that it made me smile. Yes, I would leave tonight. It was better this way. I would no longer be a burden to this place and the others could live peacefully without me. Even if I died, I doubted it would matter. Nothing I had ever done worked out anyway. It would be nothing new.

Shifting, I scaled the walls and flew into my bedroom. Just as Cadoc said there were countless items at my disposal all wrapped up and ready to go. I would have plenty of time to look over them tomorrow morning. I would sleep in Moland tonight, hopefully not getting too lost, and try to ask for directions once I reached civilization. It was better than hurting anybody else. It was better than getting any more blood on my hands.

At least I could remain the hero. 

I cried in pain. I could not believe he thought so lowly of me. No wonder he refused to touch me, I probably disgusted him to no end, and he was hateful that we were bound to one another. Something told me I should stop packing, stop moving, and to breathe, but I ignored it. I did not care what it had to say. 

Throwing a few spare changes of clothes, paper, and a few spell books, I knew I needed to change out of the frilly nightgown Koda had changed me into. Throwing on an old, loose shirt, I looked around for my trousers when I stumbled across Aldara’s journals. I had yet to open them since I came here. Running my fingers over the spines, I made the split decision to take them with me. I would need her company to keep me sane.

Finally, I came to a stop as I caught sight of my jewelry box. I had Heidi’s ring on my left hand and Griselda’s on my right, but they felt far too empty. Opening the lid, the cool ceramic felt heavier than normal in my hands. It took a few minutes of digging before I found Aldara’s ring and slipped on my right hand. The bird’s head encased my entire index finger, but I did not care. I would be taking this ring. I found my own a moment later, a chain wrapped around the band.

Pulling it out, I secured it around my neck and looked down. I gasped. There shining and glittering under the candlelight was Taehyung’s necklace. The carnelian had been marginally larger than the tip of my thumb, perfectly rounded, and it’s red coloring deep and beautiful. I could see the faint, dark marbling within it, but the lights made it hard to capture its beauty. Spiraling around the stone was a thin wire of steel that ended with a small loop. I thought Taehyung would like something simple, so I finished it off with a long piece of dark cord that I carefully braided. It was beautiful.

My anger dissipated at the sight of it. I had spent days working on that necklace hoping I would not break the stone. I completed it a few days before the present ceremony, but when everything went to shit, I had completely forgotten about it. I placed it on the desk and sighed. 

Thick, hot tears ran down my cheeks as I cried. I had such high hopes for everyone. If I could turn back time I would, why could nobody see that? Why was Taehyung the only person I believed when he said he would love me regardless? Bitter, I wiped my face roughly and went back to packing.

He was the only one who meant it, that’s why.

Reaching into my back, I pulled out a single sheet of paper and prepared my ink. I would have to leave something for him at least. No need to worry the people who cared for me. Even Jimin. I can’t forgive myself, but I could forgive him. Maybe when I come back, we could work things out.

Taehyung,

Do you remember this? It feels like a lifetime ago. I hope you like it. I wish I could have made a matching one for Sol, but maybe that would have been too perfect. When I get back, I will make sure I have one waiting for her neck. The two of you deserve it. Even if I am angry with your wife, I know I will get over that soon enough.

Tell the others how sorry I am for this impromptu banishment. I fear I have made a real mess of things lately and I don’t know how to make it better. No one believes in me, no one thinks I’m capable, and I can’t figure out what it is they mean by it? Am I not strong enough or is it because it does not matter? I’m sorry if this is confusing. Tonight, has been too much for me. No- today has been too much. The last ten years have been too much.

I haven’t had my head on right in a very long time, Tae. So, I beg of you to forgive me. I promise you that no one had a part in my decision to leave like this. It’s all my own doing. I can only hope I make it back in time to tell you how much you mean to me. How much all of you mean to me. 

Tell Yoongi that I will miss him more than I miss breathing. Tell Jin his laughter will be something I think about to keep me going. Tell Wendy how much I’m going to miss her hugs and will yearn for them every day. I need my witches to know that I adore every single one of them and will do whatever it takes to keep them out of harm’s way. Thank Thelma for me. Let Enver know how proud I am and that the blue looks nice.

Lastly, let Jimin know I love him more than anything else in this life. Even my own. That will never change, even when he is frustrated and angry at the world. I promise I will try my best to come back home in one piece. I promise, as the Gods look down upon me, that I will do everything in my power to bring help back. I don’t care where I have to go or what I have to do. I will not come back empty handed this time.

Be careful. The elves are not known for their mercy.

With all my love,

Y/N

Slipping on my pants, snatching a pair of earrings Yoongi gifted me for my birthday a few years ago, and lacing up pair of boots, I slung the bag over my back and enchanted my things to flex and change as I did. Afterwards, I shifted and flew out of the window. I did not look down or wait for somebody to find me. Tomorrow morning, they would wake and the cause of all their misery would be gone. I would fight tooth and nail if it meant I had a better chance of getting help to these people. Aldara had never led me astray before.

I wished I could have told Jimin that.

Broken hearted and lost, I flew above the trees and watched the world I know leave me behind. Flying would get me somewhere, but the elves would grow suspicious of a raven wearing a backpack. Soaring, Thelma’s small boat home cut through the trees and I knew I would have some place to rest my head tonight.

I wished Jimin could have been here with me.

Translations:

Matrina - Godmother

Patrinus - Godfather

Mi conjunx - My wife (Addressing)

Mi coniunx - My husband (Addressing)

Morologus es! - You’re talking like a moron!

I know I’m a jerk for this...please don’t be mad at me. It’ll get better... eventually.

Taglist: @greezenini​ @adventures-in-bookland​ @kthstrawberryshortcake-main​ @zae007live @jimin-neverout @nikkiordonez12 @canarystwin​ @yamekomz @chimthicc​ @michiiedreamer​ @amorieus​

© chimcess, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[razorblade180]

Underwater Adventure

Furina:Aether have you seen Freminet, the diver boy by any chance?

Aether:Nope. Haven’t seen the twins either. Though knowing my luck I’ll find them again before my own twin.

Furina:Wow. Didn’t know you could be passive aggressive.

Aether:I’m just blowing off a little steam. Anyways, why do you need Freminet? Lose something in the water?

Furina:No. I figured he was likely to know the location of Fontaine’s most dazzling underwater locations.

Aether:Why wouldn’t y- oh. Oh! It never really crossed my mind but if you only got your vision recently then you’ve probably never experienced Fontaine below the surface.

Furina:Don’t be silly! It’s not as of I’m completely unaware. There’s been tons of pictures, videos, and textbooks spanning the centuries. Though you’d be correct in saying I’ve never actually experienced it all with my own eyes.

Aether:If that’s the case, want me to fill in? I’m no expert diver but I think I’ve seen some pretty remarkable sights.

Furina:Oh I wouldn’t want to take up your time or anything of your busy- you’ve already grabbed my hand.

Aether:Want me to let go?

Furina: *sighs* Not really…

xxxx

The beauty of Fontaine is there really isn’t a bad place to start when it comes to experiencing the water. Any vision holder can simply dive right in. Even so, Furina was a little hesitant, only going waist deep with Aether as he slowly walked backwards deeper in while holding her hands.

Furina:So you can literally breathe like normal? No fancy trick!?

Aether:If it scares you then you can take a deep breath first and watch me be perfectly fine. You can even talk underwater!

Furina:No but I’ll do it.

Aether:Three…two…dive!

She dove towards him as he sunk into the water, still holding one hand to keep her close. Aether didn’t think he’d ever play travel guide, nor did he expect to catch a glimpse of what had to have been the same look on his face when he first entered the waters. Apprehension and fear vanished in an instant as Furina’s eyes grew wide with awe.

So many years of learning, studying, and even fearing her nation’s waters could not compare to the breathtaking sight it imposed. The lush sea grass under schools of fish. The way the sunlight broke apart through rippling waves like dazzling gems. Even the melodic hum of the currents around her all served to make Furina take her first breath without even realizing.

Furina:Wow…

Aether:Right? I can easily say I hadn’t seen anything like this until I got here.

Furina:There’s just so much color. The coral, fish, and crabs! Is that a pod of seals!? Aw they’re like a giant family!

Aether:Have you realized you’re talking yet?

Furina:Huh? Oh! Hey, I’m fine! Not that I thought you were lying or anything. It’s just…wow.

Aether:So, anything you may have wanted to see particularly?

Furina:Show me everything you can!

Aether:Ha, say no more.

xxxxx

Hard to believe the girl who nearly sent him to court was now playing with otters under the sea. From spotting sunken ships to petting seahorses, the girl held a gentle wonder in her eyes. Even after accidentally getting stuck in a current. Aether watched her swim down to the sea floor and sit crisscross so he went to join her.

Aether:Having fun?

Furina:Boatloads! I said it before but it should be repeated, pictures and videos doesn’t do this sight justice. I know I’m human and by all means I’ve lived my entire life on land, yet something about being down here feels so…natural.

Aether:I’m sure Freminet would have similar feelings.

Furina:I’ll admit though, swimming for so long is indeed a workout I wasn’t completely prepared for. You’re probably feeling it more; I did seem to interrupt your day.

Aether:My commissions weren’t that hard. Plus I gathered some stuff I needed while we’re down here.

Furina:If that’s the case then shall we finally go back up for proper air?

Aether:Actually…would you like to see a super scenic spot underwater that’s also under the water?

Furina:Oh so like a sea cave?

Aether:Even better. Hehe, follow me.

A spark of energy flared in his voice as he swam off. Furina couldn’t say her interest wasn’t piqued. It took awhile to reach but when they did, Furina was shocked to found the water had ended and they were suddenly walking on solid ground into old ruins. Once again her sense of wonder reached new heights as the ruins opened up to what looked like a long forgotten kingdom with a still towering castle that was wrapped in the embrace of a silhouetted Oceanid.

Furina:This place looks like it’s right out of the tales and records of Narzissenkreuz.

Aether:Funny you should say that…

Furina:….

Furina:Is this the place!?

Aether:Y’know I’m kinda amazed just how vast your knowledge goes; and I really don’t mean to sound rude when I say that. I guess it only makes sense for you to know a bit of everything when you have informants for centuries. Still…you must’ve read a dozen libraries worth.

Furina:Try a cities worth. I’m not always on the stage or drinking tea you know? I was very diligent about finding any means to prevent the prophecy. It’s only natural I learned an array of topics as a consequence. It’s actually a little silly. Sometimes I feel like if my life was normal from the start, I may have ended up somewhere like the foundation of the research institute. I really did enjoy learning the things in those dusty books.

Aether:What do you think your field would’ve been?

Furina:Not the biggest fan of machinery myself, all things considered. I’m leaning more towards marine biology.

Aether:Somehow picturing you majoring in a science is really out of left field.

Furina:*pouts* Hey! I’m being honest here. What’s with all the jabs all of a sudden? Don’t tell me you take me for someone who hasn’t read a book in their life?

Aether:Not at all. I just get this feeling that somehow no matter the reason, you would’ve ended up on stage and dazzling the crowd. Not because of who you are now; I don’t know. It’s almost like I think you’re born to perform.

Furina:*red*Well…..haha! I mean I can’t argue with that. I do have a natural knack for acting and with my beauty I’m sure it was only a matter of time before a genius would want to put me front and center when the curtain came time to open. *nods* Yes, that sounds about right.

Aether:*smiles* Was what I said really that embarrassing?

Furina:I have no idea what you’re talking about!

Aether:If you say so. Ready to go deeper in? The spot isn’t that far now.

Furina:Yep. Let’s this undersea adventure continue! *points onward*

xxxxx

Ancient architecture, damp air, and peculiar ruins. They weren’t the first thing that Furina thought of when it came to when she thought of a good time but she found it hard not to be enamored by it all. It a very broad way, it felt as if she was connecting with her roots. Aether must’ve noticed this because Furina couldn’t help but notice the slower pace he took ever since they got here. She was thankful for it. Despite his way of challenging her whenever possible, he also found the most interesting ways to spoil her without saying.

They eventually made their way to what looked like an old library that was segmented into near identical rooms. Furina feared she might’ve gotten lost if it wasn’t for Aether immediately turning her around to reveal a hidden path. Just how do people come up with these things!? Her inspection of her surroundings came to an end when Aether causally got behind her and covered her eyes.

Furina:Umm what’s happening?

Aether:The spot is just around the corner. Don’t worry. Just keep walking. I got you.

Furina:This is starting to feel like an elaborate birthday surprise of some sort. Too bad it’s not actually my birthday.

Aether:I’m afraid when that day comes it might be something way more relaxed.

Furina:As long as there’s good cake and company then you will have succeeded in my eyes. Be warned however, I’m a stickler for desserts.

Aether:I’ll keep that in mind.

Furina:How much longer?

Aether:Relax~ Just…feel it.

Without further ado, Aether removed his hands right as Furina stepped into what felt like pure warmth. Her eyes quickly adjusted and became vibrant as they took in what could only be described as a wonderland. A sweet little cottage in a humble forest clearing stood quietly in view under gentle, muted rays of sunlight that only seemed to feel cozy instead of burning. The faint smell of spring tickled her nose as sunflowers swayed from an inviting breeze while the trickling sound of a creek whispered in her ears.

Furina was absolutely speechless, the view stirring her heart until it immediately turned calmer than an undisturbed puddle after a downpour. This place brought a sense of ease that her mind had long since forgotten and heart never dreamed off. It was so overwhelming yet still. It took Furina awhile to realize her eyes had welled up. She wiped the brief tears away and turned to Aether to see the young adventurer standing beside her with his eyes closed, welcoming the breeze. He didn’t say a word once he opened his eyes. Aether simply walked towards the creek before taking the opportunity to lay down in a patch of flowers.

Furina continued to walk with her feelings, coming a across a small doghouse before spotting a humble table outside with enough space to hold tea with friends. Furina felt temptation to enter the cottage but resisted. Instead she finally made her way towards Aether and sat beside him while he rested his eyes.

Aether:Nice place, isn’t it?

Furina:Hats off too you. I knew there were many places I had yet to see. Still, never in my time could I have imagined a place like this. The air itself even feels lighter. Where’s the owner?

Aether:Moving forward with their friends. I don’t know when they’ll be back, but I imagine it’ll be quite some time. I’m sure if they ever return, it’ll be to rest their heads before setting off again.

Furina:Is that so? You know…I don’t think I’d ever say I had a yearning to feel more connected to “mirror-me” in the grand scheme of things. But between my vision, the water, and even this, I feel like a part of me satisfied and at rest. Maybe I’m just imagining things.

Aether:I wouldn’t say that. I know many friends who would say that even the faintest connections never truly disappear. Some last across lifetimes. Speaking of which, one of these days I’ll have to show you another wonderful spot.

Furina:If it’s half as beautiful as this then I’ll be floored. Is it far?

Aether:Not really. There’s a certain desert oasis I think you should see alongside with a few friends of mine. Perfect place for a tea party.

Furina:Sounds interesting. I’ll be sure to keep my schedule flexible. Hmm today really has been a wonderful day. Thank you, seriously.

Aether:Anytime. It was fun playing travel guide. If you ever need a spot to get away from your worries and clear your mind, now you have a perfect place.

Furina:Well…I’m unsure if I’d go that far. Coming here later might not feel as peaceful.

Aether:That’s an odd thing to say. Are your trying to say it wouldn’t be same without me or something?

He said that half in jest, focused on the sun’s warmth. It was only when that warmth spread to his lips gently did his heart jump. As the warmth faded, Aether opened his eyes to see Furina focused on the creek; her ears bright red and face moved just out of view.

Furina:The mood felt right…

Aether:….

She could hear him moving, slowly getting closer to her. Furina was prepared for Aether to get right up in her face teasingly, but it never happened. Instead her lap became heavy with his head. Furina looked down at the boy to see his attention was also focused towards the water while the sight of flushed skin spread to ears as well. Furina couldn’t help but smile softly as she began playing with his hair. What a wonderland this truly was.

[666writingcafe]

The Adventure Begins

Levi's overacting. Again. The only reason it wasn't obvious during the school play was because Simeon kept him reined in. Levi gets excited quite easily, and it causes him to get lost in whatever role he's playing.

I'll have to ask Simeon, but I don't think he intended the Lord of Shadow to act so...dramatically? badly? I don't know how to describe it, really. It just isn't very good.

Unlike MC. I'm not sure why I like their acting better, especially since they're currently matching Levi's energy. Maybe it's because they're intentionally hamming it up. They did mumble an apology to me before they started talking to him, after all, so they must know that Levi's acting isn't the best.

Satan's isn't much better, either. He's not as over-the-top as Levi, but I don't find him convincing as the "villain" of this story. If anything, he'd make a good anti-hero, but Solomon probably didn't want to make things too complicated.

Solomon's not a very good author.

However, I'm choosing to keep all this to myself, because the point of all this is to help MC get their first star. Lucifer, on the other hand, is having a hard time suspending his disbelief. So, I understand why MC told him to shut up. I just hope they're prepared to get their ass handed to them once Lucifer's back to normal size, because while he has a soft spot for MC, he doesn't like being silenced. Messes with his pride.

Speaking of which...the stars.

They represent the seven virtues, which are direct opposites of our sins. For me, that virtue is temperance. Solomon probably knows this, but he may not realize the full extent of my relationship with temperance.

Once upon a time, I was able to control myself and my urges. Until I wasn't. For my brothers, their sin was triggered by specific events; that wasn't the case for me. It just...happened. And I didn't realize it until it was too late.

Now, it's what most people know me for. They think I'm a meathead that only thinks about food. Even my brothers.

Which isn't fair.

Why are they allowed to have complex personalities, but not me? Why can they participate in mentally stimulating activities, while I'm cast off to the side and dismissed as too dumb to understand any of it? It's never made sense to me.

I think that's part of why I like MC so much. They're the first person in a really, really long time that sees me beyond my sin. They actually listen to what I have to say and seem to value my opinion, even if it's not related to food or sports.

Yet somehow, deep inside, I don't fully trust them. I think it's coming from my subconscious. Somewhere in there lives a hurt angel that feels like everyone he cares about will die and leave him behind. And in a way, it's true.

Lilith may have been the only person in our little family that actually lost their life, but my brothers barely resemble what they were in the Celestial Realm. It's weird. They wear the same faces, but they're completely different people. Sometimes, I feel like they're complete strangers, or perhaps taken over by aliens.

Oddly, the one person I can rely on to stay the same is Satan. Then again, he didn't have his own form until we arrived in the Devildom, so this version of him is all I've ever known.

"Beel?"

Shit.

I missed a lot, didn't I?

"Are you okay? You seem out of it."

"I could say the same to you." Why is that the first thing that comes out of my mouth? I sound like a jerk.

MC merely sighs as they sit next to me on the...bed? I take a proper look at my surroundings and realize that we're in a hotel room of some kind. Lucifer appears to be sleeping on the nightstand, using tissues as both pillow and blanket.

"Wanna go first, or shall I?" Interesting question. They don't seem upset at me.

"Your call." MC rests their head on my shoulder.

"Simeon needs my help making an important decision." Their tone indicates something serious.

"With what?" MC sighs again.

"His future." Huh? Why would an angel need a human's help with that? I know that the two of them are fairly close, but still.

"But that's neither here nor there," they quickly add, sighing. "It's not like I can do anything about it now." They glance up at me. "What's on your mind?"

"My past."

"As an angel?" I nod.

"Back then, the only thing that mattered to people was that I was strong. I wanted to be useful, so I decided to become a soldier and fight for the Celestial Realm. Problem was, I had trouble controlling my powers."

"Like I did before receiving the Ring?"

"You know, I hadn't really thought about it until you said it, but yeah. I suppose we have that in common. In your case, everyone had your back, which is good, because I wouldn't have wanted you to go through that experience the way I did." MC sits up and properly looks at me.

"What do you mean?"

"Every time I would destroy something--even though most of the time it was a complete accident--Raphael would make some sort of sarcastic remark about it. I think he started calling me the Hulk at one point, but it was meant as an insult." I pause.

"At least he had the decency to do it to my face. Lots of angels would talk shit about me behind my back. They thought I was too stupid to pick up on it, but I knew. They acted overly sweet towards me whenever I would walk in the room. Condescending, even. It was like I was a dumb kid to them." MC places a hand on my thigh and pats it.

"Sounds depressing," they remark.

"It was. Oddly enough, the one person in authority that didn't treat me that way was Lucifer. I initially thought he was too busy with his duties to really care about much else, but then one day he approached me and started talking to me. We had a legitimate conversation."

"About?"

"He told me to keep in mind that being a Celestial Realm soldier wasn't about attacking--"

"--but protecting." We must have woken Lucifer up. "You had the power to protect everyone--to keep them safe--and that you shouldn't feel bad because you were special. If you learned to control your powers, I'd recommend you to the cherubim and have you serve as a Celestial Realm gatekeeper. You did, and so I kept my promise." Lucifer beckons MC to pick him up and bring him closer to me.

"MC and I may be connected by the Ring of Light, but the two of you have a strong connection as well," he continues. "You're both motivated by the need to protect the ones you love, even if it means sacrificing yourself in the process. Drawing on that similarity is going to be the key to pass Solomon's test."

"Are you saying Solomon knew we had that in common?" MC asks incredulously.

"No. I did. I simply passed the knowledge along to him."

"How long--"

"The rooftop."

"Of Dogi Magi?" I'm glad MC understands what he's referring to, because I'm completely lost. Must have been something I wasn't involved with.

"You knew that Belphie would hurt you if you went against his order to reject me, but you did it anyway."

"I didn't want to lie to you."

"Because that would have meant hurting his feelings." Asmo may have used his powers to pick up on Lucifer's crush on MC early on, but I knew pretty much from the moment they set eyes on each other. Granted, he was more attracted to their soul initially, but who could blame him? It was bright and shiny, even back then. If we weren't under orders to not eat them, then they wouldn't have made it out of the assembly hall alive. Even Diavolo was struggling to contain himself.

Anyway, the point is MC cared enough about Lucifer in that moment to feel the need to protect him.

Just like I felt the need to protect Lucifer after I became a cherub.

MC's going to get their star.

[moonlight-tmd]

Continuation of Bee' ADHD adventures!

There's this thing where some ADHD folks will do a thing and that thing will turn into a big thing and they done a whole lot more before they realize what happened. ADHD Trance per se.

So one time Team Prime left Bee all alone in base cuz they had to do something and he was supposed to stay at home cuz something- maybe an unhealed injury or Bossbot put him on monitor duty or smthn.

So he was sitting alone in base, Sari also went out to assist them with whatever they were dealing with. The others have been nagging at him about cleaning his room for a while and his processor seemed to not stop bothering him about it just now. So he gave in.

He went to his room and started picking stuff up one by one. It didn't do anything. He dropped it and decided to look for something to entertain himself. He did and he noticed few of his things were not arranged the right way. So he started organizing them. Then noticed another thing that needed proper organization, then another... and one by one he organized everything in his room and cleaned out the trash and things that needed to be thrown out.

But it didn't stop there, there were dirty sticky spots he didn't notice before- that needed cleaning. So he got to cleaning. On the trips to and from his room he noticed other things that needed some care...

When Team Prime and Sari came back they noticed stuff was odd. It was... clean. Then they went into the living room and saw Bumblebee cleaning up some spills and organizing thing on counters/shelves. The music on the tv was playing loud and he was incoherently singing along to it. He didn't react when they called out to him, he didn't even seem to notice they were there. It took Prowl going up to him and grabbing his shoulder to notice- or well, let out a short startled scream, jumping and whipping his helm around to see his team standing near the doorway.

"Oh- You're back quick." He said, slightly embarrased at the scream. "'Quick'? We were gone for 4 hours." Optimus was so confused. And so was Bee. He didn't know this much time has passed.... He was even more confused when they mentioned he was cleaning. Huh? When did he-? Did he do that??

So they looked around- Somehow, Someway, Bee has cleaned up the whole base in the time they were gone. And not only his room was clean, every room that was in use was. Even their rooms- Bulkhead's art supplies were neatly stacked and prepared for work. Prowl's room was swept of fallen leaves, the potted plants were all watered. Ratchet's tools were put away and organized. Optimus' report datapads were organized on his desk- by date moreso! The berths were all made, everything that was dirty was washed and floors swept of dirt. The windows were washed too. Trash was taken out and dishes were done. Heck- Bee even managed to fix few of the minor damages around the building that Ratchet took forever to fix.

He did this all by himself. In less than 4h.

And he didn't even remember doing it.

They were all so confused while Sari was wheezing her ass off about it. So yeah, ADHD Trance has weird effects on cybertronians.

...They should leave Bee alone in base more often.

Anywho, is it obvious that i wrote this from experience just now? No? Good.

Update: i just learned the correct term for it. It's called Hyperfocus.

[fear-less]

omg could u write a maroon x fred weasley fic ? I think that would go amazing, but ofc it's all up to you 💘

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 maroon

pairing: fred weasley x reader

warnings: angst, some fluff, implied gryffindor reader¿, SOME parts are cringe 😭🙏😢

a/n: my first request ahh!!! i tried to finish this as quickly as i could but this was lowkey hard to do😭 i was struggling so forgive me if it isn’t to ur expectations 🧍🏻‍♀️ maroon is one of my favs on midnights tho🧏🏻‍♀️

2.6k words ^_^

When the morning came we were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf

'Cause we lost track of time again

The morning light streamed through the tall windows of the Gryffindor common room, casting a warm glow over the cozy space. Fred Weasley and Y/N found themselves amidst the hustle and bustle of students preparing for the day ahead, the scent of parchment and brewing potions mingling in the air.

“We ought to consider a time-turner, I reckon,” Fred remarked with a playful grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he waved his wand, banishing dust motes from the ancient tapestry that adorned the common room wall.

Y/N’s laughter filled the room, bright and infectious, as she joined Fred in their morning ritual of tidying up. With practiced ease, they worked in tandem, their wands dancing through the air in a graceful choreography of magic.

“The incense seems to have made itself rather at home, hasn’t it?” Y/N remarked, a playful glint in her eyes as she surveyed the cluttered shelves.

Fred chuckled, the warmth of camaraderie enveloping them like a comforting cloak.

The common room hummed with the energy of friendship and anticipation, the familiar sounds of laughter and conversation echoing off the stone walls. Fred, ever the jovial spirit, settled onto a plush armchair with a theatrical flourish, his feet finding a resting place in Y/N’s lap.

“Like a proper wizarding portrait, aren’t I?” Fred teased, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned back, a picture of relaxed camaraderie.

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately, her laughter mingling with the chorus of voices that filled the room. The morning sunlight danced in her hair, casting a golden halo around her features as she playfully nudged Fred’s feet aside, the easy banter between them a testament to their deepening friendship.

“How’d we end up on the floor anyway?” Fred quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he glanced around the familiar surroundings of the Gryffindor common room.

“George’s cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that’s how,” Y/N replied with a chuckle, the memory of their recent escapades bringing a smile to her lips.

Their laughter echoed through the warm confines of Gryffindor Tower, a testament to the enduring bond that held them together.

As Fred and Y/N navigated the halls of Hogwarts, they found themselves drawn into a whirlwind of adventure and discovery. Together, they uncovered hidden passageways, brewed questionable potions, and faced down fearsome magical creatures with courage and determination.

Yet, amidst the excitement and chaos of school life, a deeper connection began to blossom between them—a bond forged in shared laughter, whispered secrets, and unspoken understanding.

————-————-————-————-—————-

And I chose you

The one I was dancin' with

In New York, no shoes

It was now Christmas day, 1995, and the Great Hall of Hogwarts was a vision of splendor for the Yule Ball. Its towering walls draped in cascading ivy and shimmering with enchanted snowflakes that danced in the air. Fred and Y/N found themselves swept away by the magical ambiance, the grandeur of the occasion casting a spell of awe and wonder upon them.

Hand in hand, they glided across the polished marble floor, the soft strains of celestial music filling the air like whispers from another realm. The glow of enchanted candles bathed the hall in a warm, ethereal light, casting shadows that danced across the ornate tapestries that adorned the walls.

In the midst of the swirling festivities, Fred and Y/N shared a moment of quiet reverence, their hearts beating in time with the rhythm of the music. With each graceful step, they wove their own story, a tapestry of friendship and companionship that transcended the bounds of time and space.

As they moved in perfect harmony, Fred’s gaze never wavered from Y/N, his eyes alight with a warmth that mirrored the flickering candlelight. In that fleeting moment, amidst the enchantment of the Yule Ball, they were suspended in a timeless embrace, their souls entwined in a dance as old as time itself.

The air was alive with the whispers of magic, the soft rustle of robes and the gentle murmur of conversation blending seamlessly with the lilting melody that filled the hall. Above them, the enchanted ceiling shimmered with a kaleidoscope of colors, a breathtaking tableau that mirrored the depths of the night sky.

And as they looked up at the starlit heavens, Fred and Y/N knew that they had found something truly extraordinary in each other—a connection that defied logic and reason, a bond that would endure long after the echoes of the Yule Ball had faded into memory. The twinkling stars above seemed to whisper secrets known only to them, their luminescence casting a gentle glow upon Fred’s warm smile and Y/N’s shimmering eyes. It was a moment suspended in time, filled with the promise of endless possibilities and shared dreams.

The light-colored dress Y/N wore was now stained with a deep burgundy, a result of Fred’s playful antics as he accidentally splashed red wine onto her during a moment of laughter. As the wine seeped into the fabric, Y/N felt the blood rush into her cheeks, a scarlet blush that mirrored the color of the wine staining her dress. The soft rustle of robes and the melodic strains of the orchestra faded into the background as Fred’s concerned gaze met Y/N’s, their unspoken understanding bridging the gap between them. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, amidst the enchanting splendor of the Yule Ball, they shared a silent communion that spoke volumes of their growing affection and mutual admiration.

As the wine seeped into the fabric, Y/N felt the blood rush into her cheeks, a scarlet blush that mirrored the color of the wine staining her dress.

Later, as they danced under the enchanting glow of the Yule Ball, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the mark on her collarbone, a faint rust-colored smudge that had appeared during their playful exchange of banter earlier in the evening.

And as the night wore on, Y/N found herself lost in the depths of Fred’s eyes, her lips forming a smile as she realized that in him, she had found a home—a sanctuary where she could be herself, embraced for all that she was.

In the quiet moments between dances, amidst the swirling robes and the flickering candlelight, Y/N reflected on the journey they had shared together—the laughter, the tears, and the unspoken moments that bound them together like threads in a tapestry.

And as they moved together in perfect harmony, their hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of the music, Y/N knew that she had found not just a partner, but a kindred spirit—a soulmate whose presence filled her with a sense of belonging and completeness that she had never known before.

In the scarlet hues of the evening, amidst the magic of the Yule Ball, Y/N and Fred shared a connection that transcended words, a bond that would endure long after the echoes of the night had faded into memory.

————-————-————-————-—————-

When the silence came, we were shaking blind and hazy

How the hell did we lose sight of us again?

As the silence settled around them, enveloping the Astronomy Tower in a shroud of contemplation, Y/N and Fred sat in quiet reflection. The echoes of the Yule Ball still lingered in the air, a distant memory wrapped in the tendrils of the night.

In the midst of the hazy darkness, Fred's voice broke, his words trembling with emotion as he grappled with the weight of their shared history. "How did we lose sight of ourselves again?" His voice, tinged with regret, carried the weight of unspoken truths and missed opportunities.

A week had passed since the enchantment of the Yule Ball faded into memory, leaving behind a bittersweet residue of longing and unfulfilled promises. Y/N and Fred, nestled in the quiet solitude of the Astronomy Tower, found themselves confronting the harsh realities of their tangled emotions.

Fred's shoulders sagged as he succumbed to the weight of his own vulnerability, his head buried in his hands, tears staining the fabric of time-worn robes. It was a familiar scene, one that echoed the ebb and flow of their tumultuous relationship—a cycle of highs and lows, laughter and tears.

As Fred grappled with the depths of his emotions, Y/N watched in silent understanding, her heart aching with the weight of their shared pain. It was a moment of raw vulnerability, a glimpse into the fractured landscape of their hearts.

In the stillness of the night, amidst the whispering of the stars and the gentle caress of the wind, Y/N and Fred shared a bond that transcended words—a connection forged in the crucible of their shared experiences and unspoken truths.

And as the night wore on, their silhouettes cast against the backdrop of the starlit sky, Y/N and Fred found solace in the quiet companionship of the night—a beacon of light in the darkness, guiding them through the maze of their tangled emotions.

————-————-————-————-—————-

You were standin' hollow-eyed in the hallway

In the dimly lit hallway of Hogwarts, shadows danced with the flickering torchlight, casting an eerie glow upon the stone walls. Y/N stood there, her gaze hollow and distant, lost in the labyrinth of her own thoughts. Fred watched her from across the corridor, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

As he approached, the echoes of their shared history reverberated in the silence between them. They were like carnations mistaken for roses, their beauty and fragility intertwined in a delicate dance of misunderstanding and longing. Fred couldn't help but feel the pang of regret, the knowledge that some things were never meant to be.

Y/N turned to face him, her eyes betraying a vulnerability that mirrored his own. It was as if they stood at the threshold of an unspoken truth, the echoes of their shared pain reverberating in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, there was a glimmer of hope—a silent understanding that transcended words.

"I feel you no matter what," Fred whispered softly, his voice barely above a murmur. It was a declaration of unwavering devotion, a testament to the depth of his love for her. In that moment, amidst the shadows and the silence, Y/N felt the weight of his words wash over her like a gentle tide, soothing the ache in her heart.

The rubies that I gave up, Fred thought, his mind drifting to moments lost and chances forsaken. Yet, amidst the regrets and the what-ifs, there was a flicker of something precious—a connection that defied logic and reason, a bond forged in the crucible of their shared experiences.

As they stood there, bathed in the soft glow of torchlight, Y/N and Fred shared a moment of quiet introspection—a silent acknowledgment of the complexities of their intertwined destinies. In the silence of the hallway, amidst the whispering of the castle walls, they found solace in the knowledge that, despite the trials and tribulations that lay ahead, their love would endure, steadfast and unwavering.

And as the echoes of their shared moment faded into the darkness, Y/N and Fred knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—bound by the rubies of their shared past and the promise of a future yet unwritten.

With each word, their bond grew stronger, their hearts entwined in a dance of love and longing that would endure the trials of time.

————-————-————-————-—————-

And I lost you

The one I was dancin' with

In New York, no shoes

In the cozy streets of Hogsmeade, amidst the chatter of witches and wizards, Y/N found herself lost in the crowd. She searched for Fred, the one she had been dancing with just moments before, their laughter echoing in the night air. Yet, amidst the hustle and bustle of the village, he was nowhere to be found.

As she wandered through the winding streets, the lantern lights casting a warm glow over the cobblestones, Y/N couldn't help but feel a pang of longing—a yearning for the connection they had shared, lost amidst the excitement of the Hogsmeade visit.

She looked up at the sky, the stars twinkling overhead, and felt a sense of emptiness wash over her. In the absence of Fred, the one she had danced with under the starlit heavens, the world seemed devoid of color and meaning.

"And I lost you," Y/N whispered to the night air, her voice barely above a murmur. In the midst of the festivities and the laughter, she had lost sight of the one person who had brought light into her life, the one who had made her feel alive amidst the magic of Hogsmeade.

With each step she took, the echoes of their shared moments haunted her—the laughter, the tears, the whispered promises that had once filled the night air. Yet, amidst the memories and the regrets, there was a glimmer of hope—a silent understanding that, no matter how far apart they may be, their connection would endure.

In the quiet solitude of the village streets, Y/N found herself yearning for Fred, the one she had danced with under the maroon sky. And as she looked up at the stars, their light twinkling overhead, she knew that, no matter where life took them, their love would always find its way back home to Hogsmeade.

————-————-————-————-—————-

The lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was (maroon)

As Y/N drifted into a restless slumber, memories of her time with Fred Weasley began to dance through her mind like ethereal wisps of smoke. She found herself transported back in time, reliving the moments they had shared together in vivid detail.

In her dream, she stood amidst the bustling corridors of Hogwarts, the echoes of laughter and the scent of magic filling the air. Fred appeared before her, his mischievous grin lighting up his freckled face as he extended his hand, inviting her to join him on a journey through time.

Together, they wandered through the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stone floors. Y/N watched as Fred conjured bursts of colorful sparks from his wand, his laughter ringing out like music in the night.

They passed by the Gryffindor common room, where they had shared countless hours lost in conversation and laughter. Y/N felt a pang of nostalgia wash over her as she remembered the warmth of Fred's smile, the comfort of his presence by her side.

In her dream, they danced beneath the twinkling stars of the Astronomy Tower, their movements fluid and graceful as they wove through the night sky. Y/N felt the warmth of Fred's hand in hers, the gentle press of his fingers against her skin sending shivers down her spine.

But amidst the joy and the laughter, there was also pain. Y/N watched as Fred's face contorted with anguish, his eyes clouded with sorrow as they relived moments of heartache and loss. She felt the weight of their shared struggles, the burden of their unspoken fears and insecurities pressing down upon her like a heavy cloak.

Yet, even in the darkness, there was light. Y/N saw glimpses of their shared dreams and aspirations, moments of hope and resilience that had sustained them through the darkest of times. She felt the strength of their bond, the unbreakable thread that connected them heart to heart, soul to soul.

As Y/N stirred from her slumber, the echo of Fred’s laughter lingered in the air like a melody, a reminder of the love they shared and the memories they had created together. In the quiet solitude of the morning, she carried his legacy with her, a beacon of light to guide her through the uncertainties that lay ahead.

It was maroon

It was maroon