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joeyb1989 · 2 months

Text

accidentally* - joe burrow

word count: 6.2k

pairing: joe burrow x reader

warnings: smut, fwb, small angst, love triangle, fluff, cussing

a/n: okay i decided to split this up into parts because im not sure if i want this to be a series yet or not LMAO. i’m not sure how many parts there would be, but right now there’s at least one more part planned. the next part should be out within the next week or so. also if some of this looks familiar, remember i posted a sneak peek a few days ago. i hope you all enjoy 💕

edit: after starting to write the third part of this series, i decided to change the timeline a bit. the series now starts before OTA’s (which are taking place during April for the sake of the story) instead of training camp.

——

April 2024

“Well if it isn’t my favorite media manager,” Joe smiled at you, waving over the bartender.

You smiled at the much taller quarterback, who was now sitting next to you.

OTA’s were starting the following week and Coach Taylor wanted the team and staff to have fun before the season began.

“Well if it isn't my favorite quarterback,” you teased.

You’d been working for the Bengals for as long as Joe has played for them. On your first day, you had a little incident – which introduced you to the dirty blonde.

Flashback to your first day

It was your first day working for the Bengals media team. You were so anxious about your first day. You were fresh out of college and felt intense pressure on you to succeed. You had only been in the facility for 30 minutes and you were already wishing the day was over. Not that you hated your job already, you were just so nervous.

You had been in a meeting with the rest of the media team – which you had just learned is a frequent thing – when you had to rush across the facility to get all the equipment that would be needed for the practice that day. As you rounded a corner, you were hurrying and not paying attention until you felt your body collide with somebody else’s. You look to see that you spilled your iced coffee on a very tall, and very fit man’s white t-shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry,” you apologized, picking up the plastic cup and ice cubes off the floor.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said, helping you pick up the rest of the ice.

“I wasn't looking where I was going,” you both said in unison.

You both laughed before he extended his hand to you, “I’m Joe.”

“I’m Y/n,” you smiled, shaking his hand.

You had heard a couple of your co-workers gossiping about the rookie quarterback named Joe. They said that he was handsome but you never imagined him to be this handsome.

“You look awfully pretty to be a football player,” Joe said with a smirk

Your cheeks heated up at his compliment, “I’m the new media team intern.”

“Ah, that makes more sense,” he laughed, “make sure to get my good side out there.”

“I’ll try my best,” you giggled

“I’ll see you around, Y/n.”

“I’ll see you around, Joe,” you said, making your way to get the camera equipment.

End of flashback

After your and Joe’s little mishap on your first day, it sparked something between you two. Both of you had just gotten out of long-term relationships just before you met, so by ‘spark,’ you meant friends with benefits; even though both of you always felt something more.

“Will you put her drinks on my tab?” Joe asked the bartender.

“You don’t have to do that,” you smiled

“But I want to,” Joe smiled back.

After talking for about 20 minutes about anything and everything while drinking many rounds, you both were hammered.

All of a sudden, Joe loudly gasped, “We should play darts!”

“Okay,” you chirped, “Let’s do it!”

Joe led you over to the dart board, where he was destroying you.

“Joeeee, I never was very good at darts,” you whined

Joe smiled before walking behind you, “Let me help.”

His large left hand was on your hip, your back was against his chest, and you could feel his cock on your ass. His right hand guided yours, which contained a dart, to the board, getting you 20 points. Your breath hitched when he leaned down and whispered in your ear, “Has anyone told you that you look absolutely sexy in this dress.”

Even though you and Joe have hooked up a bunch of times, you swore you could have seen a twinkle in his eyes.

“Mmm, no,” you say, “just you.”

“I don't believe you,” Joe chuckled. “You’re the most gorgeous woman in this place,” he whispered. His words were so sweet that you literally thought you died and this was heaven. Your stomach filled with butterflies at his words. You turned around in his grasp, his arms going around your waist as your hands landed on his chest.

“I think you’re the most handsome man here,” you smiled

You leaned forward and captured his lips in a sweet kiss before it heated up. His hand fell from your waist to your ass as you sucked on his bottom lip. You two pulled away for air when he bent down to whisper in your ear again, “Let’s get out of here.”

20 minutes later

“Oh my g- god, Joe!” you moaned as your orgasm washed over you. After leaving the bar in an Uber, Joe spent some time worshiping your body and eating you out like you were his last meal once you arrived at his place

He continued lapping your juices up as you came down from your climax. Once your breathing returned to normal, he leaned over the top of you, pressing feather-like kisses to your jaw.

“Are you okay?” he asked

“Mhm,” you smile, “but I need you inside of me.”

His eyes grew darker and filled with lust at your words. At the speed of light, he pulled his jeans and boxers down.

Now that he was free, you look at his thick and pulsing cock. Precum was dripping out of his tip as he lined himself up with your core. No matter how many times you’ve seen it, his dick is always mesmerizing to you

He teased your slick folds with his tip, chuckling when you became a whimpering mess under him.

“Please Joe,” you whined

“Please what, baby?” Joe asked with a smirk

“Please, fuck me,” you moaned

That was all Joe needed to hear before he sank his cock into you. You both moaned at the sensation of being balls-deep inside of you. “Let me know when it’s okay for me to move,” Joe said as he peppered kisses on your forehead. Joe was always sweet with you while fooling around with you. You always wondered what he was like with girlfriends if he was this sweet with his fuck-buddy.

After a couple of minutes, you gave him the okay to move. His thrusts started slow and gentle, afraid he might hurt you. He soon quickened up the pace, his tip ramming into your cervix with each thrust.

“You are so. fucking. tight.,” he groaned, punctuating each word with a rough thrust.

“Joe- oh my- don’t stop!” you moaned, your hands moving to send scratches down his toned back.

“Y/n,” Joe moaned into your neck, “You feel so good, baby.”

You pull on Joe’s curls, guiding his head so that your lips meet for a sloppy kiss.

After one particularly rough thrust, his cock grazing your g-spot, you felt that unmistakable feeling in your belly building up, begging to be released.

“Joe… I’m gonna cum-” you moaned into his mouth

“Fuck, me too,” Joe moved his hand down to where you two connected, rubbing soft circles on your clit.

You were practically screaming when you came for a second time. After a few more rough thrusts, Joe shot his hot load into you, before collapsing onto your chest.

Once you both came down from your highs, Joe pulled out of you and got up. He headed for the bathroom, coming back into the bedroom a couple of minutes later with a wet washcloth. He cleaned you up before crawling back into bed. He pulled you into his chest, kissing your forehead delicately.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” Joe yawned

“Goodnight, Joey,” you smiled.

The next morning

The bright sunlight seeped into the room from Joe’s window. For a minute, you were confused about where you were until you remembered the events of last night. Feeling weight on your chest, you look down to see Joe with his head on your chest, his curls falling over his forehead. His arms were wrapped loosely around your waist. You brought your hand up to his curls, lightly brushing them out of his closed eyes until he began to stir in his sleep.

He slowly opened his eyes, meeting your gaze as a small smile made its way onto his face.

“Good morning,” he smiled, rolling off of you after pressing a kiss to your cheek and walking into his closet. He comes back a moment later with an old t-shirt of his and a pair of sweats. “I figured you would want to change into something more comfortable,” he smiled.

“Thank you,” you smile at his effort to keep you as comfortable as possible. As amazing as sex was with Joe, the aftercare was even better.

“I’m going to go start breakfast,” he smiles, stepping into fresh boxers and sweatpants.

“You don’t have to do that for me-” you say

“But I want to,” Joe interrupts you, echoing his words from last night

“Okay, I’ll be down there in a minute,” you sigh, playfully rolling your eyes. He nods and sends you a sweet smile before walking out of the room.

You sigh again, thinking about the conversation you had with Joe last night. Not once has Joe ever complimented you like that. People say that drunk words are sober thoughts, so were his words last night how he really feels? Or was it all of that tequila he drank?

“Ooooh, something smells nice down here,” you smile at the smell of the delicious breakfast Joe is making, “What is it?”

“Breakfast burritos,” he smiles, “There’s scrambled eggs, roasted potatoes, shredded cheese, avocado, turkey bacon, and salsa.”

“Yum,” you say, “That makes my mouth water just thinking about it,”

“I also know you like to have coffee every morning, so I made you some,” he smiles while handing you a mug, but it turns into a grimace, “I hope I didn't make it too sweet for you.”

You take a long sip of the hot drink, smiling because it tastes just the way you like it, “It’s perfect, Joe, thank you.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, furrowing your brows. “How do you know how I like my coffee?”

“I could say that I could tell when a certain someone spilled it on me, but you make it every time you’re over here.”

“Oh my god,” you cover your face with your hands, “that was the worst day of my life.”

“Wow the day you met me was the worst day of your life? Thanks, Y/n,” Joe joked

You playfully roll your eyes at him, “I didn't think you paid that much attention.”

“Go sit down, I’ll bring the burritos over in a sec,” Joe smiled before you did his bidding

You two exchanged some small talk over the heavenly burritos Joe prepared.

“How’s rehab coming along?”

Joe sighed before speaking, “Pretty good, I’m excited to get back out there.”

‘Yeah, well, in my opinion, you’re looking great out there,” you smile

“Thanks, but who knows how the season will go,” Joe sighs

“Joe..” you began but stopped when Joe gave you a don’t-go-there look. Joe always hated opening up to you about his struggles, so you let it go.

His house fell quiet again, your eyes going wide when you made a realization. “Joe,” you say, “Did we use a condom?”

Joe furrows his brows, thinking for a moment before his eyes go wide. “No.. uh we- we did not…”

There were a few quiet moments of panicking between the two of you before you spoke up again. “Hey, it’s okay… I’m on birth control,” you tried to soothe, even though your anxiety was out the roof.

“That’s not 100% accurate though, right,” Joe questioned

“Neither are condoms,” you state, matter-of-a-factly

Joe nods his head, running a hand through his hair. A few minutes of silence go by again before he speaks up, “Alright, so we should be good?”

“Yeah,” you smile

“Alright,” Joe nods, “We’re good.”

Eight weeks later

Spoiler alert: things were not good.

A couple of weeks after your and Joe’s drunken hookup, he very kindly explained to you that he started seeing someone and wanted to see where it went. You understood completely. Joe wasn't yours and you weren't his, so why wouldn't you understand?

As you were reviewing the new intern’s work, you felt your phone buzz from beside you. You pick it up and see a text from your mom.

Hey sweetie, are you feeling better?

She was referring to the fact that you have been dealing with on-and-off nausea and fatigue for the past couple of weeks. She has been bugging you to go to the doctor about it, but with being too busy with work lately, you haven't gotten the chance.

Yep, a bit. I should be alright to come to the cookout tonight though :)

Is your period late?

What?

Check your app.

You closed out the messages app and navigated to find your period app. Your heart drops when you see that your period is, in fact, late. Even worse, you scroll to see that the day you had sex with Joe was when you were ovulating.

Fuck.

Mom, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it to the cookout tonight.

A few hours later

After clocking out of work, you drove straight to the nearest drugstore to pick up a couple of pregnancy tests before driving home.

Now here you were, sitting on your bed with your leg bouncing up and down, a pregnancy test upside down on the bathroom counter, a timer on your phone counting down the seconds until your life could change forever.

You couldn't be pregnant. No way. You had always been so safe when it came to sex. In fact, this was the only time you and Joe had not worn a condom. ‘I’m never drinking alcohol again after this,’ you think to yourself.

You were pulled out of your trance by your timer going off. You flipped your phone over to turn it off, slowly standing up and walking into the bathroom. Your hands start shaking as you pick up the plastic test, your eyes immediately darting to the word ‘Pregnant,” indicating that you will be having a baby in just nine months.

Your mind immediately goes to Joe as you choke out sobs. He is already under so, so much pressure and you would hate to add to it. He was doing so well too. He was bouncing back quite well, and he seemed so happy. You didn’t want to ruin it all for him, but he has to know that he has a baby on the way.

The next day

After thinking about it the rest of the day, you decided the best thing to do was not bombard him at the facility. So, here you were standing on his porch, the positive pregnancy test in your purse, about to change the man’s life forever.

After knocking on the door, you thought about darting off the porch and speeding away in your car but didn't have time to even think about it until the door swung open.

“May I help you?” A short, blonde woman asked, your brows furrowed at her until it hit you.

Haley.

Flashback to your first time at Joe’s house

You were standing in Joe’s living room, him getting you a glass of water in the kitchen. You notice all his pictures on his TV stand, looking closer to see a short, blonde woman kissing his cheek at an LSU game.

“That’s Haley,” he gave a closed-lip smile.

The first night you and Joe hooked up, you two blabbed to each other about past relationships; Joe a little more than you.

“I’m still sorry for what she did,” you say

“You didn't do anything,” he says

You look back at the seemingly sweet girl in the picture frame. Even though you and Joe barely knew each other, he was still one of the sweetest guys you’ve met. You couldn't imagine how someone could treat him the way she did.

Not only did she cheat on him, but she cheated on him during Heisman weekend, in Haley and Joe’s hotel room. Even though Joe found out, he stayed with her until right before his first training camp.

“You don't deserve that, though,” you rub his shoulder.

“I meant to throw her pictures out, I’m sorry you saw them,” he said

“No I get it Joe, take your time,” you smiled

End of flashback

“Hey, uh… is Joe home,” you questioned

“What do you need him for?” she asked.

“We work together and there’s an urgent work thing that I need to ask him about,” you lie

“Well, he’s not home. I’m his girlfriend, I’ll tell him you stopped by,” she fake-smiled

“Okay, thank you,” internally rolling your eyes at her.

So much for telling him today.

The next day

“Come in,” you say after you hear a knock on your office door

“Hey, I heard you wanted to see me,” Joe smiled

“Hey, yeah… sit down,” you said, trying to prepare yourself for the conversation you’re about to have.

“What’s up,” he questions

“Joe… I don’t know any way to sugarcoat thi-” you say

“Then don’t,” Joe interrupted, “Just tell me.”

You look at him for a few moments, trying to find the courage to say those two words.

“I’m pregnant,” you whisper, avoiding making eye contact with him

His jaw drops open, “You.. yo- your- and I- I’m…?”

“You’re the father by the way, which maybe you picked up but I can’t understand your stuttering,” you nervously laugh

The room falls silent again for a few moments, both of you still in shock

“Are you… keeping it,” Joe questions

“Yeah, and don’t feel any pressure at all. You can be as involved as you want,” you soothe

Joe just sat there, staring off into space, trying to wrap his mind around everything.

“Y/n.. I just need a bit to think things over, I’m sorry…” Joe says, getting up and walking out of your office.

Later that night

You were reading a magazine about everything expecting mothers should be doing when you heard a knock on your door. You open the door and are surprised at what you see.

“What are you doing here,” you ask

“Can I come in,” Joe questions

“Of course,” you step aside to let him in your house.

“I’m here to talk about the baby,” he blurts

“Okay, go ahead,” you gave a small smile

“I’m so sorry for how I acted earlier. It just all came as a shock and I didn’t know how to handle it. I mean you know me, I’m not ready to be a dad. Even if this definitely wasn't planned, I’m not walking out on you or our baby,” Joe rants

You smile before walking over to him, engulfing him in a hug, “Thank you, Joe. But you are going to be a great dad.”

“I’m sure you saw Haley when you came over yesterday,” Joe said

“Yeahhhh,” you drag out. You’ve made your feelings about her very obvious to Joe before.

“I told her about it and she isn't exactly… thrilled,” Joe grimaced, “but she wants to stay with me, so.”

“Okay…?” you furrow your brows

“I just wanted to tell you so you would know,” Joe sheepishly smiled

“Thank you,” you smiled, “I have my first appointment in a few days, you are welcome to come if you would like.”

“Consider me there,” Joe says, pressing a kiss to your forehead

A few days later

“Hey, Joe,” you smile

“Hey Y/n,” Joe opens your car door for you

“Are you excited to see our little one,” Joe smiles, jogging to the driver’s side of the car

“I am, I didn't know you would be,” you say

“How come,” Joe asked, pulling out of your driveway

“I don't know, I just feel like I’m forcing you to take me,” you mumble

“Y/n, I would do anything for y- the baby,” Joe paused, “I’d do anything for the baby, so you aren’t forcing me,” Joe squeezed your hand reassuringly.

Ever since you told Joe about the baby, his whole attitude towards you has changed. He’s seemed happier to see you, he’s texted you every day, checking up on his little guy or girl growing inside of you. He even offered to take you to the appointment. Not that Joe wasn't nice to you before, it was just different.

——

Pulling into the doctor’s office parking lot, Joe turned the car off, letting out a sigh. You noticed him playing with his wristbands, something he often did if something was bothering him.

“Joe, what’s wrong,” you question as you meet his gaze.

“I’m fine,” he said, even though his eyes told you otherwise. You didn't have time to respond to him as he got out of the car and jogged over to your side, opening the door.

“You know I’m pregnant, not incapable of opening a door, right,” you tease

“Please, you know I’ve opened doors for you before I got you pregnant,” he smiled

“I guess you’re right,” you playfully roll your eyes.

After checking in and waiting in the waiting room, you see Joe fidgeting with his wristbands and bouncing his leg up and down out of the corner of your eye.

“Joe,” you say, placing your hand on his thigh, “seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles but sighs when you raise an eyebrow at him. “Just nerves.”

“You can talk to me about it if you want,” you soothe, rubbing his shoulder

He looks into your eyes a moment, before running a hand through his hair. “I’m scared that I’m not going to be a good father, Y/n.”

His words shocked you. In all the time that you’ve known Joe, he’s never been one to open up with you on that level

“I mean, I’m in such a good place with the wrist, and I’m so excited for the season, but what if I’m not around enough for it,” Joe confessed

“Joe, I should be due in March. If everything goes as planned, you’ll be done with football in February. You’re going to be an excellent father too, you are caring and compassionate. You do everything you do with 120% effort, I expect nothing less than your role as a father too,” you smile

“Thank you Y/n,” Joe smiles, grabbing your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Y/n,” a nurse calls

“That’s us,” you smile, signaling for Joe to stand up.

——

“Okay, this gel might be a little cold,” the ultrasound tech warns

After talking with your doctor, you and Joe were now in the tech room, about to see your baby for the first time.

“There it is,” the tech smiles, directing the screen towards you two. Both you and Joe choked up at seeing the baby. There was nothing like seeing the baby and hearing its heartbeat that you both made. The baby on a screen in a cold lab room will soon be a little Y/n or a little Joe running around.

After finishing up the ultrasound, the tech printed out the ultrasound and gave you the pictures. “I’ll give you two a minute,” she smiles, walking out of the room

“I can’t believe we made that,” you say looking at the pictures of your little baby.

“I know,” Joe choked out, tears running down his face.

You turn your head to look at him, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears off his face. Your eyes drop down to his pink lips, wanting nothing more to press yours to them; but you can’t. Instead, you just bring him in for a tight hug, while he presses a kiss to your forehead.

20 minutes later

“So wait,” you say, popping a french fry into your mouth, “You think that aliens are already here?”

“Absolutely, I mean… I’m sure that if they are smart enough to visit us, then they are smart enough to cloak themselves from us so we can’t see them,” Joe replies, sipping his milkshake

“Mmmm, okay,” you giggle

After your appointment, you and Joe saw a 60’s themed diner down the street that neither of you had tried. Somehow the conversation drifted from the baby to aliens.

“You’re not gonna see aliens on an iPhone, Y/n,” Joe scoffs playfully

“I guess you’re right,” you smile

“You know I am,” Joe teases

“We need to go back to talking about the baby, Joe,” you laugh, “I don’t even know how we got started on the aliens.”

Joe nodded, “Okay, okay… so we made the agreement that you would move in with me once the lease on your apartment is up, right?”

“Yes, and I should be five-ish months by then,” you nod

“I have the space for your room and a baby nursery,” Joe said, “in case you were worried about that.”

“I know Joe, the only thing I’m worried about is Haley,” you said

“Rightttt,” Joe grimaced

Flashback to when Joe told Haley

“What do you mean pregnant,” Haley screamed, “Joe, I don't even know why you would associate yourself with that slut!”

Joe was headed to your apartment to talk to you after he stormed out of your office earlier that day, but wanted to tell Haley first.

“Haley, don’t talk about her like that. I was the one that didn't use protection,” Joe tries to calm her down

Haley scoffed, “What the fuck do you mean, Joe. She is literally trying to baby-trap you!”

Joe rolled his eyes, “Haley, I know this is hard for you to-”

“No, you don’t, Joe! I mean how could you do this to me,” Haley said

“Haley, I understand that this complicates a lot, but I want to stay with you. I’m heading over there to talk to her,” Joe stated

“Like hell you are,” Haley said, trying to grab his car keys out of his hand, “As your girlfriend, I don't think you should see her anymore.”

“I can do what I damn well please,” Joe raised his voice, slamming the front door behind him.

End of flashback

“How is she coming along,” you ask, taking a bite of your cheeseburger.

‘She thinks I’m at practice right now but instead, I’m with you because she doesn't want me seeing you,’ Joe thought

“She’s not too happy, but she will come around,” Joe smiles

“Good, good,” you smile, “We also agreed that we will see each other two times a week outside of work so that we can get closer and you can build a relationship with the baby, right?”

“Yeah,” Joe smiles, “I’m glad that I’m having a baby with you, Y/n. Anyone else wouldn't put in this effort to make it work.”

“Of course, anything for you the baby,” you smile

Joe ponders for a minute before speaking up, “How about we have dinner with Haley soon? I know you two haven't officially met. Maybe it will help her get more comfortable with the situation.”

‘It’s a good thing Joe loves her,’ you think to yourself

“I think that’s a great idea, Joe,” you smile, not because you’re happy to see her, but because you know it will make him happy.

A few weeks later

“Gold or silver jewelry,” you ask your sister, Abby, who came over to help ease your nerves.

“Silver,” she replied, standing next to the doorway, “You gonna be okay?”

You take a deep breath before replying, “Yeah, I’ll be alright. Just nervous.”

Tonight was the scheduled dinner between you, Haley, and Joe. Your nerves have skyrocketed over the past couple of days. Tonight was a big deal for the future of your and Joe’s co-parenting plan, as well as the baby. Haley was, rightfully, upset when she found out about the baby, but from what you heard about her, you know that she was more upset than Joe let on.

The current plan was for you to move in with Haley and Joe in two months. She was already living with him because Joe found some way to love the monster of a woman Haley is, despite everything she has done to him.

“That dress really shows off the bump,” your sister smiles at your growing three-month bump. Even though it was barely there, you loved nothing more than seeing it poke out in certain clothes.

“Are you staying here while I’m gone,” you ask while stuffing your phone, lip balm, wallet, and keys into your purse.

“No, I’m gonna head out when you leave,” Abby answers, “I need to head home and finish packing for my trip this weekend.”

“You can stay here and watch reruns of Keeping Up with The Kardashians if you want,” you say, knowing your sister would want to postpone packing for as long as possible

“I’ll think about itttt,” your sister replies, both of you knowing she is definitely staying.

“Okay, well I got to go grab dinner with my ex-situationship – aka my baby daddy – and his toxic girlfriend that probably wants to claw my eyes out,” you laugh

“Y/n, it’s going to be okay. We all know that you and Joe are going to be together before that baby comes out of you anyway,” Abby soothes

You stop dead in your tracks, “Abby… what?”

“Y/n… literally the way you just talk about Joe shows me how you feel about him. I mean you two have so much in common, you work together, and I mean you’re having a baby together. I know he feels the same way you do. He opens up to you, he literally treats you like his girlfriend, and the effort he’s putting in for the baby. He can say it’s for the baby, and it probably is, but it is also for you. Sure he has a girlfriend, but it’s only a matter of time before he realizes that he deserves the love you can give him,” your sister says.

Was Abby right, do you have feelings for Joe? Ever since you two met, Joe has always been a great friend and a sweet lover. As time went on and the more you two hooked up, it’s like he disappeared. He was still kind and gentle, but it was like he shut off. He would barely talk or open up to you, but that all stopped when you told him about the baby. He kept his promise to you about coming over twice a week; in fact, he was coming over more than twice a week. Even though this situation wasn’t ideal, it felt like you two were heading in the right direction. Even if you did have feelings for him, there was no way he felt the same for you.

Flashback to last week

“Ja’marr is Daddy’s best friend, but you can’t forget the others either. Justin, Sam, and Nick. You’ll get to see us all play football together, pumpkin,” Joe talked softly to your small bump. This was the fifth day he was over in a row.

Ever since you two went to the ultrasound together, Joe started to call the baby, ‘pumpkin.’ He said that the baby needed a nickname since you two still don’t know the gender.

“Mommy and Daddy are so excited to meet you. I can’t wait to-” Joe said, getting interrupted by the alarm on his phone. Joe sighed as he turned the alarm off, obviously disappointed. Joe sat up straight and looked at you, “Gotta go to practice.”

“Then go, we’ll be okay,” you smile, “You can come over after if you want.”

“I’ll have to see if Haley will let me,” Joe sighs, rubbing a hand over his face

“What do you mean let you,” you furrow your brows

“She doesn't like how much time we’ve been spending together, but she doesn't control me. I’m going to see my baby, and you, Y/n. She’s just going to have to accept that,” Joe said

A small smile pulled at your lips as you nodded, “Well, we’ll be happy to have you over any time. You need to get going though, Cincinnati needs their quarterback.”

Joe’s smile faltered at the mention of practice, making you raise an eyebrow. “Joe, it’ll be okay. Our pumpkin won’t be here for another 29 weeks. You have time to make it up to it.”

“It’s not that, Y/n. I’m just… nervous for practice, I guess,” Joe sheepishly smiled, “I know what people are saying about me and the injury. I just… I feel like I got this far for nothing. What if the people are right?”

You gave him a small smile, holding his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, “It’s okay to be nervous, Joe. I mean, you did have a season-ending injury last season, but you need to remember that you are Joe fucking Burrow. You can do anything, and I mean anything, you put your mind to. You rehabbed the wrist like an actual beast and it’s time to show the world what you can do.”

Joe pulled you into a tight hug, being careful of your bump. “Thank you,” he whispered against your ear.

“Go get em, Shiesty,” you giggle

End of flashback

“Abby, you’re delusional as hell. Enjoy your trashy TV show, love ya!” you say as you walk out of your apartment.

You wanted nothing more than for Joe to be yours, but that was so far out of reach that you shouldn't even dwell on it.

——

“Hey, Y/n,” Joe smiles as you meet the couple in the parking lot of Jeff Ruby’s.

“Hey, Joe,” you hug him as you can feel someone’s eyes shooting daggers at you.

“This is uh… Haley,” he said motioning towards the blonde woman.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, officially,” you smile, extending your hand out towards her

“Yeah, so nice,” she fake smiles, grabbing your hand and yanking you forward, nearly pulling you to the ground

“How about we go eat,” Joe says, trying to break the tension.

——

About 45 minutes later, Joe was laughing at something you said, while trying to not choke on his water.

You thought the evening was going nice, the three of you were exchanging small talk; well more like you and Joe were having a great conversation and Haley was just… there.

“Do you remember the one time we walked in on Ja’marr and one of his women of the month,” Joe laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. How could I forget? I’m like permanently traumatized,” you join Joe in laughing

All the laughing and giggling came to a halt when two hands smashed on the table, you two looked over to see Haley, smoke practically coming out of her ears.

“Joe, what the fuck are you doing,” she asked, obviously annoyed

“What do you mean,” Joe questioned

“Joe you dragged me here so that I would feel more comfortable with this hag moving in, but it is making me feel worse. All you two have done is talk and talk and talk to each other about something only you two would understand. I am your girlfriend Joe. I am the one you go home to. I am the one who is there for you. I get that it’s all exciting right now, she’s still relatively thin and beautiful, but wait until she blows up like a balloon and you want nothing to do with her, she rants before looking at you, “Y/n, I hope you know that once that baby gets here, he will want nothing to do with the baby. You’ll be all by yourself in our house. Which, that is if he doesn't kick you out.” She smiled evilly

The table fell quiet, neither of you wanting to make eye contact with one another. Even though her words were just simply out of rage, it didn't mean that they didn't hurt. You were so scared that Joe would stop caring about you and your baby. Apparently, by her rant, she feels the same way. Your eyes started to get misty from her raised voice, your hormones, and your fears.

“I’m… uh gonna go home,” you muttered out

“Y/n, don’t go,” Joe pleaded

“No, you two have your thing. It was stupid of me to come between you two,” you walk out of the restaurant, tears streaming down your face

Joe tried to take your hand, but you pushed it away. He turned back around to see Haley sitting there with a satisfied look on her face.

30 minutes later

When you got back home, tears were streaming down your face. You walk into an empty apartment, which means Abby must’ve left at some point. You put down your purse and take off your sandals, about to head upstairs to change when you hear a knock on the door.

You walk to the door, slowly opening it, shocked when you see Joe. You wipe the remaining tears off of your face before speaking up. “What are you doing-”

Joe cuts you off by putting both hands on either side of your face, backing you up a bit as he smashes his lips onto yours.

~ to be continued ~

part two is here!!

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #bengals #joe burrow bengals #joeburrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fic #bengals fic

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mrs-gauche · 3 months

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Let's talk about the Red Lyrium Idol

(…Because it's not like this thing has been discussed to death over the past ten years, right? 😂 *drops my two cents in the Scrooge McDuck money bin*)

Ah yes… The red lyrium idol. The one thing that's given me a headache since 2018, as I'm still trying to figure out how this damn thing could possibly fit into my bazillion tinfoil theories.

Whether it's the first official DA4 teaser in 2018, the Blue Wraith comic series or the entirety of the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, a lot of the supplementary media and promotional stuff setting up the course for DA4 seems to be centered around the idol. Quite literally, in some cases, like this mural from the first 2018 teaser:

It certainly led us to think that the idol won't just be another McGuffin (or so I hope lol), but other than that, it's still heavely shrouded in mystery…

Which is why I will now make an attempt to unravel this and gather every single bit of information we have on it (so far) and maybe that'll get us closer to some sort of answer in the end (actually, it won't, because this got SO long that I had to split this post in two parts lol No one's going to read all of this anyway 💀)!

Look, I just needed to get this behemoth of a post out before we might get an actual substantial trailer tomorrow and none of this will probably matter anymore. 😂💀

(Note: This whole thing was initially intended to be solely for myself to keep track of any information we've gotten about the idol since DA2. But since it's gotten SO long over the years, I figured why not just rewrite it into a somewhat coherent text and post it on here? :D ......Seriously, it's really, REALLY effing long.)

The Idol's Journey so far

To me, the idol always seemed to be something like "The One Ring" in LOTR. A forged ancient artifact with creepy unknown powers that is said to feel "alive", almost as if it possesses a will of its own, seeing as it has somehow found its way from countless random people, back to (presumably) its former owner. It also appears to be somewhat cursed, given that almost everyone who held it at one point seems to have died or gone mad by now (Yeah, I'm very worried about Varric and Hawke 👀).

Let us start with a quick summary of the journey the idol has made in the span of about 12-13 years (not counting the unknown timespan in which the last chapter of Tevinter Nights takes place):

First discovered by Hawke and Varric in an ancient Thaig in the Deep Roads.

Stolen by Bartrand, who then made a quick trip to Rivain.

Sold to Meredith, who turned it into a sword.

Taken out of Meredith's petrified corpse by Carta dwarves.

Sold again to a Tevinter mage, who brought it to House Qintara in Ventus.

Handed to a secret agent of Fen'Harel named Gaius (who was impersonating Magister Qintara).

Traded away to Tractus Danarius.

Handed to Magister Nenealeus at Castellum Tenebris to be used as part of a ritual.

Picked up by Cedric Marquette after the fortress fell, while trying to escape.

Handed back to Tractus Danarius, who then probably (not confirmed) went to Nevarra to perform another blood magic ritual.

Picked up by a Mortalitasi who (maybe) took it to Tevinter.

(Supposedly!) ended up in a vault under an auction house in Llomerryn in Rivain, where it was (supposedly!) retrieved by Solas.

That's quite the journey… that you wouldn't even know half about if you didn't read the comics or Tevinter Nights. But whereas the book and comics were all published after the first teaser trailer in 2018, after which the idol became the center of the fandom's attention and speculation, it should be noted that a connection to the idol was in fact already made way back in 2014, when people noticed that the image of Solas holding Flemeth's lifeless body at the end of Inquisition was very reminiscent of something else.

...Which brings us to the point of what the idol is even depicting to begin with.

Description

Before I'll start to give my own description based on the models in-game, the teaser and concept art, I'd like to quote the people who've actually seen it in person.

In the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, we are being told three tales by three different people, who all describe the same idol differently.

The Carta Assassin: "A couple hugging, too thin to be dwarves - but it's sitting there, glowing softly like a ruby lit by the grace of the Maker himself. […] It's heavier than you'd think - lyrium's heavier than you'd think, too, but this was heavy even for that. When I hefted it in my hand, it was like it wanted to keep moving, like it was liquid inside."

The Mortalitasi: "An idol crafted from red lyrium, which seemed to show two lovers, or a god mourning her sacrifice. It whispered in our minds when we saw it […]."

The Orlesian Bard/Solas: "He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other."

The one thing that all of these seem to have in common though is two figures who embrace each other in some way.

Which is interesting, because in all the depictions of the idol we've seen so far, it clearly shows three people instead of two. Granted, the third figure is a bit cramped up in the back of the crowned figure, but what's strange is that not even Solas himself mentions this third figure.

Most notable though is the crowned female looking figure in the center, which is holding onto the two other figures on each side of the ring shaped object (or it's the two figures holding onto the female?). The figures themselves look rather goulish, deadly or skeletal, with their bone structure clearly visible and all their expressions captured in a mix of horror or torment. The small carved-in lines coming from the middle figure's eye sockets also resemble black tears, much like we've seen on "The Mother" in Awakening.

There's also no sign of clothing, which is all the more apparent on the concept art of the idol, in which the breast of the middle figure is.. much more prominent. lol (We don't make fun of saggy boobs in this house, it's just nature and gravity after all, but for the sake of observation, I will note that they do remind me of Broodmother boobs, too 😂), aside from a hint of what could be a veil on the middle figure's head.

At the bottom of the idol, the lower bodies of the figures seem to fully submerge within its name-giving red lyrium and this "claw" type thing, which is coming off in the shape of crystalline red lyrium spikes at the tail end, though in the concept art and the DA2 model, these spikes were clearly more like red lyrium roots. But either way, the bottom makes it kinda look like it's been broken/ripped off?

We can also see tentacle like features, that remind me of the figures we've seen in the mural in the 2020 teaser and the depiction in the 25th anniversary book that revealed to us what the Archdemons were initially supposed to look like. 👀

I'd also like to point out that in the original concept art of the idol, the ears of the crowned figure look much more pointy to me than in later versions. 👀

There's also this "ring", that I've seen many people connect to how the Veil is often portrayed in Solas' murals.

But if this ring is supposed to depict the Veil, then what could it mean for the crowned figure reaching across to hold that ominous third figure on the "other side"?

And yes, I recognize that this ominous third figure also seems to be missing a left arm, just like another certain main character. 👀

The one thing that stands out the most though, is probably the crown itself. Most people might first associate it with Andraste, when the same shape can be traced as far back as ancient statues of Mythal.

Yeah, there's definitely a pattern here. 😂

That being said…

Connection to Mythal & Solas

Okay, we all know about the theory that Andraste might have been Mythal's previous host, right? We all know about the parallels between Mythal's story, Andraste, Flemeth, etc. And after comparing the idol to Flemeth and Meredith in their moment of death, considering all of the above/following and how old this thing potentially is, I will now make a wild guess here and argue that the idol is in fact depicting Mythal's death.

"He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other. But I could not make out the words, for I fear they were elven."

Not only does Solas seem to hold sentimental value for whoever the crowned figure is supposed to be, while also talking to it in elven, but the way he describes to "caress" the idol in Tevinter Nights does also seem to mirror how Flemythal was comforting him at the end of DAI.

However, I always thought it was a bit odd how Solas describes the idol as "a figure comforting another", when… tbh, "comforting" would probably be last thing that comes to my mind when I look at this...

"Agony" would be more fitting here, maybe? lol Kinda begs the question of how Mythal was murdered, too, with this being her expression in her moment of death? 👀

Without getting too much into it here, if there's one thing we can take from everything we've learned so far about their past, Solas' relationship with Mythal must've been a rather complicated one, to say the least.

"He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face."

Solas calls Mythal "the best of the elven gods", calling her "the mother, protective and fierce", and Solas is even described in the designer's notes as "Mythal's oldest friend" who is all about free will, yet if the spirit origin theory is true and Cole's cryptic comments in Trespasser are in fact about them, it was Mythal who gave Solas a body against his will, potentially bound/enslaved him with her vallaslin, and maybe even forced him to act against his original purpose?

"You should have seen me when I was younger. Hot-blooded and cocky, always ready to fight."

Cole: "You didn't do it to be right. You did it to save them." Inquisitor: "Solas, what is Cole talking about?" Solas: "A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything."

How much of what happened was Solas acting out Mythal's will, or rather, acting out of vengeance and pain in reaction to Mythal's death? How much of it was him acting downright impulsive?

Solas: “Cole is a spirit. The death of the real Cole wounded him, perverted him from his purpose. To regain that part of himself, he must forgive.” Varric: “You don’t just forgive someone killing you.” Solas: “You don’t. A spirit can.”

Or was it Mythal's death itself that "wounded him and perverted him from his purpose", just like he described what happened to Cole?

And what does that say about Mythal then, when she clearly hasn't forgiven her murderers and still strives for vengeance after all this time? What if Solas' own perception of Mythal and all the circumstances surrounding her murder is warped because he was once bound to her? 👀

Anyway. To get back to topic.

So if we assume that the idol is in fact depicting Mythal's death, then that brings us to the next question of why the idol is even made of red lyrium? Or rather, what is Mythal's connection to red lyrium?

We know that red lyrium is tainted blood of a Titan. Mythal was the first to kill a Titan and mine their blood for things we won't get into in this post. So, how did the idol end up in the Deep Roads, anyway? How long had it been there? One thing that's kinda strange to me, is how the DA wiki page about the idol says that it was forged by the dwarves, solely based on the fact that it was initially found in the Deep Roads, when we have no actual evidence for that. We've seen statues of both Mythal and the Dread Wolf in the Deep Road section in Trespasser where the mining of lyrium was undergone, but we don't know if the dwarves even had any part in building them as well.

Would the dwarves forge an idol of the elven deity who conquered them and killed their Titan, if they were somehow forced to do so? We also have to remember that dwarves were and still are the only ones able to actually mine raw lyrium safely, but even the Carta dwarves in Tevinter Nights had to take several precautions in order to recover the red lyrium idol from Meredith's corpse. And even then, many of them still fell shaking or went mad in its presence like Bartrand.

So if it only takes that little exposure to have that much of an effect on someone's sanity, how were the ancient dwarves or anyone even able to create it in the first place? What if the idol was initially made of blue lyrium but was then somehow corrupted?

And if we take one moment to really think about what an idol actually is.

"An object representing extreme devotion and religious worship to a god."

While Solas doesn't think of any of the Evanuris as actual gods, he still seems to hold Mythal at such a high regard that he wouldn't even speak of her at a sacred place like the Temple of Mythal (whether or not that was because he just wanted to withhold any secret ancient knowledge). He's able to fully recite the invocation to Mythal if you bring him with you to her altar. He also looks exactly like the sentinels in Mythal's temple.

I could go on, but generally speaking, there are so many little hints pointing to Solas being a former slave/servant of Mythal that, again, we won't get into here, but it's important to mention when trying to figure out why the idol (presumably) even belongs to Solas.

"The idol's journey is now complete, and it has found its master."

In Tevinter Nights, the Dread Wolf claims that the red lyrium idol belongs to him. He also made sure to punish those who tried to misuse it, going so far as to march in with an entire army of spirits and snapping a guy's neck with his jaw. (Yup, you're better off not to touch the Dread Wolf's stuff for dirty blood rituals, kids.)

"You use my idol carelessly, and in doing so, you threaten all creation."

Additionally, in the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, Charter and other spies conclude that Solas must need the idol for whatever ritual he's planning, while Solas in Bard disguise claims that he's already in possession of the idol now and therefore, I quote, "cannot be stopped". (Though I personally still don't actually buy a single thing about his vivid tale at that auction house, but we'll get back to this later. lol)

And if the idol belongs to Solas, was he the one who created it, or did he order the dwarves or someone else to make it for him? But why would he intentionally make an idol out of red lyrium, anyway? He is fully aware of the dangers and corruption that comes with being exposed to red lyrium and its use. Especially considering that red lyrium is blighted and how he repeatedly expresses great concern over the Blights and gets furious over the Grey Wardens' attempts to preempt them by killing the Archdemons (because he obviously knows more than us).

So, does he know a way to use it without getting corrupted like everyone else? The Seekers of Truth are so far the only ones we've seen to be immune to red lyrium thanks to having their minds touched by a spirit of Faith during their vigil. Could Solas' connection to spirits/his hypothetical spirit origin allow him to use the idol without it effecting him?

But if any of this is true, then l'm again asking myself what even was the purpose of the idol to begin with? Why or when was it created? How does it differ from any other red lyrium, and what could Solas have used it for in the ancient past?

Powers & Effects

So, let's talk about what this thing can actually do (as far as we know).

(Btw, this is the part where I will shamelessly copy a lot straight from the DA wiki, because truth be told, I'm just a German struggling with limited vocabulary and I figured there's simply no way to summarize this any better than the wiki already has. 💀)

Just like any other red lyrium, we know that being exposed to the idol for too long will make you mad/paranoid/possessive/violent, while also grant you special powers, until overuse causes your body to be completely overtaken by red lyrium. It seems to thin the Veil wherever it is currently kept, allowing spirits or demons to interact with the physical world.

It also emanates a song that is slowly turning people who hear it insane.

The Song

"It sings… sick music." "It eats you inside until you're nothing." "It creeps into your thoughts, humming." "They hear a different song. The song behind the door old whispers want opened. They are dead and dark and done." "Songs screaming far away. It wants to wake up but can't remember how."

(- Cole's comments about red lyrium/red templars)

After Bartrand took the idol and left Varric and Hawke to die in the primeval Thaig, he started hearing voices, claiming the idol was "singing" to him. Even after selling it, Bartrand could still hear the idol and was eventually driven mad by its red lyrium.

Three years later, it is discovered that Bartrand had chipped a piece of the idol off and left it in his estate, which causes the house to behave like it was haunted and the Veil was torn.

Then during the "Haunted" quest, Varric himself remarks several times to hear music while walking through the estate, much like the Carta assassin in Tevinter Nights recalled to have heard "music in the wind, like some old song I heard as a kid but can't quite remember" when obtaining the idol from Meredith's corpse.

Important to mention here is that Varric seems to also be the only one in the party able to hear this song.

Varric: "Hey… is that music? Where is that coming from?" Hawke: "In don't hear anything." Varric: "Where is that singing coming from? You hear it, right, Hawke?" Varric: "Where is that voice coming from?" Hawke: "What voice?" Varric: "I can barely hear it… I wish I could make out the words."

Varric also told us that, after Bartrand went mad, he tortured his non-dwarven servants by cutting pieces off them to help them "hear the song".

(And remember, the idol was found in an ancient primeval Thaig in the Deep Roads, sitting on something like an altar, indicating that it was being worshiped by the ancient dwarves as well. Presumably because they too were being influenced by the idol's/red lyrium's song?)

Haunted

During the "Haunted" quest, we learn that the mere presence of a shard of the idol in the estate causes:

"Voices whispering in the walls"

Random objects moving on their own

Apparitions/screaming spirits appear running across the floors

When Varric picks up the piece of the idol, he starts to exhibit the same symptoms of madness Bartrand showed, at which point Hawke can either let Varric keep the piece, or can take it from him with the intent of having Sandal destroy it.

If Hawke asks Anders to diagnose Bartrand in Act 2, he suspects a demon at work, however Bartrand is a dwarf. Instead, he determines that "his mind has been poisoned by something powerful".

In Tevinter Nights, the Carta assassin recalls that, in the attempt to retrieve the idol from Meredith's corpse, most of his colleagues fell shaking and whispering the closer they got to it.

Meredith

After Bartrand sold the idol to Meredith, she reshapes it into her sword Certainty, which does eventually drive her insane as well. It also gives her unnatural powers, such as the ability to animate the statues in the Gallows, and even limited flight capabilities.

(My question is though, were the things happening in that final fight directly caused by the idol or was this just the result of the Veil being already weakened that much by the many terrible things that happened at that place/Kirkwall in general?)

Anyhow, during the final battle at the Gallows, Meredith overuses the lyrium sword, causing it to burst into dust and petrify her into a statue.

Though as we all know now, some part of Meredith seems to have survived somehow, as her… mind(?) or something was shown to now still "live" within the red lyrium somewhere in Kirkwall at the end of Absolution. She (or "it") also seems to have somewhat control over the red templars now, too.

So, how is this possible? What exactly is she now, if it even is herself and not just a manifestation/echo of her memories or something? Could it have something to do with the idol? No one really knows (and we might never find out, if Netflix won't give us a second season, anyway lol), but I do think it's curious how the idol is likely depicting Mythal's death, who didn't actually die either and lived on through the ages as a type of lingering "wisp" clinging to various hosts. 👀

I also want to point out how Solas did suspiciously include Meredith's petrified corpse in his mural in the 2020 teaser as well, placing her right under that ominous upside down figure with the tentacles.

Furthermore, just like Meredith, the idol also seems to be somewhat indestructable. lol After Meredith's sword burst into dust, it regrew inside her petrified corpse (which Solas was apparently also aware of). What's interesting is that it regenerated in Meredith's chest of all places. You know, like, where the heart is supposed to be? 👀

Then there's also this curious line from Anders, when talking about Varric acting strange after obtaining a shard of the idol:

"This thing's magic seems only more potent when broken."

I've mentioned it before, but with the spikes (or roots in DA2) at the bottom part of the idol making it look like it was ripped or broken off of something, you have to wonder if its current state is somewhat broken, even after regenerating.

"Hot-Blooded"

During the Haunted quest, Fenris will remark this:

"Whatever is here is angry."

In DAI, Cole repeatedly comments on how red lyrium feels "very angry" and how it is "less angry when it's cold". We know for a fact that red lyrium emanates a noticeable heat. A corrupted Bartrand is especially weak to cold/ice magic.

While anger is generally associated with heat, I find this aspect particularly interesting, given that red lyrium is tainted blood of a Titan.

And building on that, while still searching for further connections between red lyrium, the idol and Mythal… Remember how the ancient sarcophagus in the Blue Wraith and Dark Fortress comic was used in a ritual, in which lyrium combined with fire of a Great dragon carved lyrium infused markings into Fenris' and Shirallas' skin, granting them special powers.

Not only was this ancient sarcophagus specifically built only for elves, and its design resembling that of Mythal's statues…

…but here we have a case in which lyrium is purposefully "set on fire" by a Great dragon to create "elven super soldiers". Mythal is always depicted as a dragon. And she mined lyrium in humongous amounts.

Again, red lyrium emanates heat. If this was common practice in ancient times, then I feel like it's not surprising that a Titan would eventually be pretty damn angry in reaction to its blood being continuously burned for centuries [insert boiling blood joke here].

So, aside from the red lyrium being blighted, could there be a connection in Mythal burning the Titans' blood? As far as we know, it did take a couple of aeons in which Mythal (presumably) continued to mine (and burn?) the Titans' blood, before the ancient elves sealed the Deep Roads for good, because they discovered something… bad. As Solas himself declares in the vision described at the mural depicting a Titan's death:

"Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger." "The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic." "Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast."

And there it is again. That anger we're talking about. What's so interesting to me, is how this does sort of come full circle with Mythal and the idol after all, since the motivation behind Mythal's actions, even after thousands of years, remains her unwavering desire for vengeance upon the people who betrayed and murdered her, which, in a way, does mirror the same anger/heat that the Titan is emanating from its tainted blood.

And speaking of blood……

A Ritual Blade

In Tevinter Nights, we learned that the idol is able to produce a blade, which is then used as part of a blood magic ritual.

"The Tevinter mage was killing his slaves. […] He had cut the throat of one of them, and then another, catching the blood of his victims on the idol as he made his way around the circle. […] The Tevinter mage raised the idol before him, and I saw a spike of lyrium spring from the base of the idol, so that all at once, it was not merely an idol, but a ritual blade. He slashed his own hand, and a wave of power pulsed through the cavern. It was as though we were the blood, and the cavern was the body through which it flowed, and we fell, all of us, to the ground, our minds pulled into the raw chaos of the Fade by the power of his ritual."

In the end of the Dark Fortress comic, the idol produced another red lyrium sword, that could be fully detached and was then placed onto the before-mentioned sarcophagus, turning Shirallas into a raving beserker that was pretty much invincible as long as he was in possession of that same sword.

While the blue lyrium infused sword that was used in Fenris' ritual simply dissolved in the process, the sword produced by the idol could "regenerate" and was especially resistant to Great dragon fire.

"Unlike the lyrium-infused swords of the so-called Arcane warriors, this sword should survive the ritual."

In the final fight against him, Marquette comments on how Shirallas "feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins" and how in turn "the sword heals his wounds".

So in both the comic and Tevinter Nights, the idol/the weapon produced from the idol seems to draw power specifically from the blood of its wielder. It makes me wonder if it was initially intended to be used this way, since we have to remember that it still presumably belongs to Solas, who claims to not practice blood magic, because it seems to make it more difficult to enter the Fade.

Which is ironic, given what the mage in Tevinter Nights did to disrupt the Fade, but also how the Magisters Sidereal used a massive blood ritual to enter the Fade physically.

And oddly enough, in your first conversation with Solas about blood magic, he makes this curious analogy with daggers as an example…

Inquisitor: Every time I've seen blood magic used, it has been for some evil purpose. Solas: I once saw a woman being stabbed in the stomach with a dagger. She died slowly, in angony. It was repulsive. If the Chantry outlawed daggers, would that stop the people from using it? Of course not. […]" Inquisitor: "You don't need to sacrifice a slave's life to make a dagger." Solas: "I suppose it depends upon the dagger."

So… Could Solas be referencing Mythal's death here? Or what if the dagger here is referring to the idol in its blade form? What the heck does he mean by "I suppose it depends upon the dagger"? Was a slave's life sacrificed to create the idol maybe?

But if blood magic wasn't the sole purpose for why it was made, then what else could the idol as a ritual blade be used for?

Which brings us to…

Dalish mythology

According to Dalish legends, Fen'Harel told the Creators and the Forgotten Ones that the Avvar had forged a "terrible weapon", a blade that would end the war between both clans of gods. He told the Creators that it was forged in the heavens, while the Forgotten Ones were told that it was hidden in the Abyss. And when the gods went seeking it, Fen'Harel sealed them both in their realms forever.

Okay. So, let's just assume for a second that the blade in this legend was actually the idol in its blade form. Because hell, what are the odds of having two "super powerful ancient blades that belong to Solas"? lol

If they are in fact the same weapon and the part about Solas tricking the gods is true, why were the Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones so eager to get this thing, to the point that they would fell into a trap?

And with this, I'd also like to point out the level design in the scene in which Flemeth takes Kieran's Old God soul in the Fade. I can't help but feel like the statue of Dirthamen being stabbed in the back with a sword, crying a stream of blood, resulting in a huge pool of blood, as well as a bloody ouroboros symbol on the ground, is a very deliberate design choice. Especially considering the context of this scene with the revelation about Flemeth and Mythal, I'd argue this is all in reference to how Mythal was betrayed and murdered.

Again, the idol could depict Mythal in her moment of death. In the final fresco in the rotunda, the one Solas never finished before leaving the Inquisition, we see a wolf looming over a dragon slain by a blade.

In the last visual of the 2022 cinematic that, going by Varric's narration, could potentially depict the destruction of the Veil, Solas appears to hold something that resembles a blade with a very destinct handle. Additionally, we've since discovered an icon hidden on the Steam page of DA4, that shows a dagger with an identical shape and the same glowy purple as the Dreadwolf title.

So we have the idol in its blade form, the blade Mythal was potentially slain with, the blade Solas is holding in the 2022 cinematic, Solas mentioning a dagger in relation to blood magic and Fen'Harel's blade in Dalish legends.

That's a lot of blades... and a lot of blood. lol

The Hunt of the Fell Wolf

"The Hunt of the Fell Wolf" is the title of a poem that can be found in the Jaws of Hakkon DLC. It tells a story of former Inquisitor Ameridan, his friend Haron and their fight against a demon wolf.

Along with numerous odd things in this tale that could be interpreted as some kind of metaphor (or just the devs messing with us, if you want to know more, please check out this post), it also mentions an "idol of fade-touched stone" in connection to the demon wolf.

The wounded knight in darkness Found within the cavern’s gloom An idol of fade-touched stone, Which could prove the monster’s doom.

In the poem, after a grim fight, the wolf takes Ameridan's friend Haron to its lair, a "labyrinth of winding cave" (which many believe is referring to the Deep Roads, just like the ancient Thaig in DA2 where Hawke and Varric found the red lyrium idol originally) where Haron, oddly enough, also happens to find an idol. What's intruiging though, is that this idol seems to be connected to the wolf in such a way that he can only be defeated if both him and the idol are destroyed and struck down at the same time.

With burning blade, Ameridan And monster met again Whilst elsewhere did Haron valiantly With demon-wards contend.

As demon-stone was shattered, Ameridan struck true: Beast and spirit—both felled at once, Though neither hunter knew.

"Beast and spirit—both felled at once"

Two entities that are connected across two different places… as in the physical body and the spirit maybe?

As in the waking world and the Fade?

So, let's reiterate.

The red lyrium idol belongs to the Dread Wolf. Cole remarks how he can feel that Solas is "in both places". The word "Dread Wolf" itself is an anagram for "World" and "Fade". We've talked about the popular spirit origin theory before, Solas taking a physical form against his will because of Mythal. The whole matter of Solas' "true name" before he called himself Pride. Solas' entire personal quest, which may or may not mirror his own past, a spirit of Wisdom being denied its original purpose, turning into a pride demon ("He wants to give wisdom not orders"). His strange remarks at the end of Cole's personal quest ("We cannot change our nature by wishing"). The fact that Solas makes Cole forget about his true identity, just like spirit!Cole does. The visual portrayal of Solas "consuming" Flemeth's powers at the end of DAI. The way in which Solas doesn't recognize anyone in the waking world as "people", but will vehemently debate you on why spirits should be considered people.

"But the People… They need me." (- Solas to Flemeth at the end of DAI) "Never again." (- Solas after burning the mages who were responsible for Wisdom's corruption) "From this moment, should you ever bind a spirit, your life is mine." (- the Dread Wolf's final warning to the mages in Tevinter Nights)

All of this considered, what could the poem in JOH imply for the connection between Solas and the Dread Wolf/the Dread Wolf and the idol?

"They made bodies from the Earth, and the Earth was afraid. It fought back, but they made it forget."

One theory assumes that the creation of the Veil lead to the separation of the ancient elves' bodies and their souls/spirits, assuming that before the creation of the Veil, the Evanuris somehow made bodies from the Titans/lyrium for spirits to manifest and then enslaved/bound them to their will by marking those bodies with their vallaslin.

But if that's true, then what happened to Solas when he created the Veil?

"He broke the dreams to stop the old dreams from waking. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap."

In all the murals, tarot cards and illustrations, the Dread Wolf and Solas are always depicted separately.

What really IS the Dread Wolf? And what is he to Solas?

"It was a beast unlike any I had ever seen. Lupine in appearance, but the size of a high dragon, with shaggy spiked hide and six burning eyes like a pride demon, and it came to us on wings of fire that resolved themselves into a horde of lesser demons."

From what little we know of the Dread Wolf himself, he only seems to exist within the Fade (that is to say, before the Veil, Solas was already depicted as a wolf, presumably even before his rebellion and before the Evanuris "bestowed" him with the title "Fen'Harel"). In the Mortalitasi's tale in Tevinter Nights, his army of spirits follows the mages back to the waking world, yet the Dread Wolf himself remains in the Fade. In one of the frescoes in the rotunda, Solas portrays the Black City surrounded by the six burning red eyes that resemble those of the Dread Wolf, almost like he's keeping watch over the eternal prison of those he banished. In the Tower tarot card, the Dread Wolf is ominously looming over Solas, almost like it's about to consume him, while in one of the Trespasser murals, it looks more like the Dread Wolf follows his lead. And then there's the DA4 2018 teaser mural, in which they're opposing each other, only seperated by the red lyrium idol in the center of the Veil.

If the red lyrium idol is connected to Solas like the idol in the poem is connected to the wolf, could this be part of the reason Solas is so desperate to find it? Does it possess some kind of spirit? Can the Dread Wolf only be defeated if the idol is destroyed at the same time, just like in the poem?

Where is it now?

So where's the damn thing now?

Well, in my opinion, there are two options.

Option 1) The bard's tale in Tevinter Nights was complete bullshit. lol

Despite Solas trying to convince us that he already obtained the idol in a vault some time ago under an auction house in Llomerryn, it's possible that, much like his whole charade in that chapter, this tale was also entirely fabricated. lol

To make it short, here is a list of arguments for why the "bard's tale" could've been a complete lie:

Solas attended this spy meeting specifically for information on the idol's whereabouts (because he doesn't actually know where it is currently?).

Everything until the last two pages was an act.

Both the Mortalitasi and the Carta Assassin point out several contradictions within his tale.

Upon hearing the other spies assuming that he needs the idol, it would just make sense that he would want them/Charter to believe that he’s now in possession of the idol and “cannot be stopped”, so that they would drop all effort to find it before him.

On the very last page of the book, there's a lists of bullet points of information when Charter is about to write down her report, and it does not explicitly say “He has the idol” but rather just what it looks like, which suggests that Charter didn’t buy his story either.

So if this was all lies, the last known location of the idol would therefore be the unknown person who took it when escaping from the Dread Wolf's spirit army in the Grand Necropolis in the tale of the Mortalitasi.

Meaning that Solas would therefore still be searching for it now. (Which would actually be kind of hilarious, considering how there's likely gonna be a ten year timeskip since DAI, so he would've been searching for the flippin thing for the better part of a decade now. 😂 We know from the end of the Blue Wraith comics that he had followed the idol's path via eluvian, but maybe he just lost track of it at some point? In fact, the last we heard from him, Solas was apparently busy pursuing some Venatori people to get another ancient artifact called the Crucious Stone in the The Missing comic, much like he prevented the Tevinter mage in Nevarra from using his idol. Solas after ten years of searching for the idol was probably like "Oh fuck it, I give up, on to McGuffin Nr 2 then". lmao)

In an interview with the comic writers Nunzio DeFilippis and Christina Weir, they talked about how in their initial draft of Dark Fortress, Solas actually *got* the idol(!!) from two of his agents by using the eluvian located at Nenealeus' place before BioWare stepped in and requested a change. 👀 That version would've explained how Solas was able to track the idol through the eluvian we see at the end. Their own interpretation was that Solas can only overlook a certain radius within the area of where another eluvian is located. Which would actually support the assumption that Solas might've lost track of the idol at some point after Nenealeus left the place… but that's just their interpretation and not official BioWare canon (yet), sooo…. Hm.

Option 2) Solas has the idol now.

So let's assume that the part about him obtaining the idol in Tevinter Nights was actually true and it's now in his possession.

Aside from this, the only thing that could speak for Solas already having the idol in the beginning of DA4, is once again the final visual in the 2022 cinematic.

If this cinematic is in fact playing at the beginning of the game as a general re-introduction to the lore and the last visual is depicting Solas in the middle of destroying the Veil using the idol, then.. well yeah, there it is, in his hand…. at least, for now. Making Solas succeed in the first 10 minutes, I guess? lol

……Unless!

See, a few years ago, I speculated about how the idol might actually be the perfect plot device/motivation for our new protagonist to get involved in the whole Solas deal without even knowing who he is.

Let's say the last visual in the 2022 cinematic is actually showing us a hypothetical scenario, and not something that has already happened/is currently happening. Like, Varric gives this expository narration explaining who Solas is and what might happen if we don't succeed in getting the idol. (Notice how Varric says "And we're the only ones who can stop him" at the end… Like there's still a chance to stop him before this actually happens.) We know from Tevinter Nights that Charter knows that Solas needs the idol for whatever ritual he's planning. And Charter obviously informed the Inquisition/Varric about this as well. So the next logical step for the Inquisition now would be to obtain the idol (whether or not the bard's tale in TN was true) to prevent this ritual at any cost, right?

The comic The Missing re-emphasized that Varric is now in charge of getting people that Solas doesn't know. And this might be where the new protagonist gets recruited by Varric (who is still a spymaster after all) and gets assigned the alias "Rook" for a heist mission to obtain the idol. (And after a very thorough observation of the DA4 reddit leaks from 2023… it looks like Rook might've actually succeeded in this potential quest?)

While we don't know when the stuff in the leaks actually takes place within DA4's storyline, I think it's safe to say that Rook will obtain the idol at some point in the story and that it will play a pivotal role, if the blurb on the Steam page for DA4 is to be believed. lol

As well as what could likely end up being the game's icon, found on the Steam page.

And again, remember how in the Hunt of the Fell Wolf poem, it seemed like Ameridan struck the wolf’s body in the waking world, while his friend Haron killed the spirit (inside the idol?) in the Fade. What could this imply for DA4 then, if we are applying the role of Ameridan, Haron and the wolf in this tale to the Inquisitor, Rook and Solas?? 👀 Is this how we can stop him? The Inquisitor confronts Solas in the waking world, while Rook has to destroy the idol/fight the Dread Wolf in the Fade?

Or could it just be a metaphor for the Inquisitor in DA4 keeping Solas occupied to distract him from Rook, while they can figure out another secret way to deal with him/how to get/destroy the idol?

See, the thing is, we have to remember that this is after all, a video game. lol Meaning that, if our protagonist gets to carry around a powerful ancient artifact/weapon, I would assume that this has to be somehow implemented in the gameplay as well. What we can take from the short footage of the 2023 reddit leak, is that Rook might carry the idol (if it really IS the same thing) while still fighting with their own main weapon in combat. So, what if the idol serves as more of a special power tool outside of combat, for example, like the anchor did in DAI, where it can only be used for special occasions? Let's say, the idol in its blade form can't be used in battle but is able to "split" the Veil or reality, like the anchor was able to open and close rifts? Or, if we assume that the idol is something like an ancient phylactery (which btw is my favorite theory and I will talk about in my second post), maybe it can be used as some kind of "tracking device"? Actually, I'm super curious to learn how Rook is even able to carry it like this in the first place, since we know what kind of effect it usually has on people. lol

~~~~~

Anyway, I'll make a hard cut here now and save the rest of this behemoth of a post for a second separate post (because I also just realized that tumblr doesn't let me add any more images 😂💀), so if any of you actually made it this far... thank you for being just as crazy as me about this and I will post the second part shortly after. lol ❤

#tinfoil time #da4 #red lyrium idol #solas #dragon age 4 #mythal #good god that got long 💀💀💀💀

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egcdeath · 2 months

Text

out in the open

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: your wedding night doesn’t go as smoothly as you expect it to. succession au - tomshiv adjacent (previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3)

word count: 8.8k

warnings: failmarriage, fluff in the beginning, cheating, angst, jealousy, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol and smoking, suggestive content, insecurity, patrick is kinda the worst in this. he does get better though.

author’s note: full disclaimer things are pretty angsty and they only get angstier from here. cheating is a major plot point from this point forward. there will be a few happier moments but it’s mostly bad vibes and tension from this point on.

i say this with every fic i post in this universe but i truly could not have written this without the help of my succession anon!! weddingnightgate (WNG) is such a big moment in this au and they really helped me get my thoughts in order and helped me world build. i hope you all enjoy the upcoming pain!

When you were young, you always dreamed about your wedding. You fantasized about a huge venue somewhere halfway around the world that would easily fit all of your closest friends and family members and of celebrity guests who would give you well wishes for the marriage and smiled at you in spite of their envy at your beautiful event. You imagined a gorgeous, intricate dress with a train so long that you’d need assistance going down the aisle, a cake the size of your tallest guest, and a groom who was as handsome as he was loving, pressing the promise of True Love’s Kiss onto your lips after he read you his vows.

Maybe your enthusiasm for weddings was fueled by a few too many movies where the princess found her prince charming and lived happily ever after with him, but you still fell in love with the idea of love, and the thought that a wedding should be as beautiful as the love itself was.

You would never forget the first wedding you attended, despite being so young that you shouldn’t have really recalled it. You somehow managed to worm your way into being the flower girl at your aunt’s wedding, skipping excitedly down the aisle of the beachside venue, tossing flowers with reckless abandon. As you watched the rest of the ceremony from the safety of your mother’s hip, you couldn’t help but to imagine yourself being the one to walk down the aisle someday.

Much like your first wedding memory, you also couldn’t forget the first time you learned about divorce. Though you were young, the memory of your best friend crying next to you during recess as she sobbed out the news that her parents were splitting forever stuck out in your mind. You’d been fed the idea that love was strong and everlasting for so long, that the very notion that there were some things that love couldn’t withstand rocked you to your core.

From that point on, you became more grounded in your approach to love. Love was rarely a fairytale, and it was naive for you to assume that your future wedding would be one either.

As the years went by, you grew more realistic about your expectations for the future. You found a boyfriend who you dated throughout the latter half of your undergraduate years and through your time in business school, and fully expected to settle down with him—though you knew you’d be settling in the most literal sense. While he was a stable figure in your life, he was boring, and his aspirations in life for both you and himself didn’t align at all with what you saw yourself doing. He wanted a wife, and you wanted to make a name for yourself doing the work that was meaningful to you.

When he got down on one knee in front of you, you realized that you had two options in front of you: follow your own dreams or follow his.

Naivety be damned, you chose yourself and never looked back.

In your pursuit of making your non-love related aspirations come true, you abandoned all hope that your pipe-dream of a fantasy wedding would ever come to fruition. It occasionally felt like your hopes were incompatible—to be a successful businesswoman meant giving up all prospects of a romantic life. It seemed like everyone you encountered was put off by your lack of work-life balance, or wanted to hunt you for sport and turn you into a trophy wife.

You’d practically given up all hope by the time you met Patrick, fully expecting to be able to use him for a brief fling and a connection to get into his family’s company. What you weren’t expecting was to find someone whose company you genuinely enjoyed, who understood you on a level you hadn’t experienced with anyone else, and a love that occasionally left you wondering if you were a protagonist in the movies you loved watching as a girl.

If someone told you that years after meeting Patrick, that one day you would be gazing into his eyes with tears in yours as you listened to his vows, or telling him that you do take him to be your husband, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘till death did you two part.

Your wedding ceremony felt straight out of your girlish dreams, with Patrick’s beautiful family castle serving as the venue, paparazzi-worthy guests, a dress that felt like a direct product of your wildest imagination, and a groom that seemed to be as close to a prince charming as reality could get.

You were on cloud nine throughout the ceremony, basking in every single moment. You felt like you were floating by the time you got to the reception, your brain in the clouds as you and your now-husband cut your massive cake and gave toasts.

It was all a blur in the best way possible, your elation making what you thought might be an embarrassing moment of a first dance exciting, and the subsequent socializing with guests substantially more bearable.

What was slightly less bearable was the speed at which you were separated from your husband, the two of you occasionally catching the others eye from across the room, but otherwise being separated from surprisingly demanding guests who wanted to wish you luck on your marriage or excitedly share how amazing they found the ceremony to be.

Occasionally, you were able to squeeze in a brief moment with your spouse, bringing him a flute of champagne and momentarily pulling him away from an exceptionally chatty shareholder, but you seemed to be frequently whisked away from each other.

After what felt like a lifetime apart from each other, you felt the familiar, comforting warmth of Patrick’s hand on your lower back as he approached you from behind. When he announced to the extended family members standing across from you that he needed a moment alone with you, you almost leapt with joy. Nothing seemed more appealing than a private conversation with him after a long night of socializing with friends and colleagues.

It almost felt ironic that during an event that should’ve been focused on the two of you as a pair, you were separated and kept apart by people with business pitches and opposing interests, excited to hop onto whatever opportunity your union might bring them.

Patrick took you by surprise as he led you up the stairs and to your bedroom. It seemed a little early to begin your wedding night festivities, but if he was really that enthusiastic about it, you were certain that you could share some of his excitement.

“Thanks for getting us out of there,” you commented as you shut the door behind you. “So much for not talking about work at the wedding. I guess it’s too much to ask for one day to celebrate you being my husband before talking about the business again.”

You walked over to the vanity, preparing to touch up your makeup. You shot a glance over at your partner, who cautiously sat himself down on your bed, fidgeting with his hands as he did so. Not paying him any mind, you began to reapply your lipstick in the mirror and looked at his reflection, catching that he seemed to be in deep thought, but not thinking too much of it. It was probably something a shareholder told him. Maybe his sister was planning yet another attempt at a hostile takeover of the business.

“Husband. Wow, you’re my husband now. That feels so crazy to say. Husband, husband, husband,” you mused, a ball of excited energy. “Well, husband, what did you pull me in to talk about? Is it Sherry’s dress? It’s really hideous. I can’t believe she would wear something like that to our wedding,” you continued to ramble. “Or do you want a sneak peak of what I’ve got going on under this dress?”

You were shocked to find Patrick mostly unresponsive to your rapid words. He was never one to turn down the opportunity to gossip about his social circle or flirt with you. You pulled your attention away from yourself in the mirror and turned your head back to look at your husband, only to be met with a mostly unreadable expression, apart from the hint of a sad smile on his face.

Suddenly, things didn’t feel so fun. For some unexplained reason, you felt a small pit appear in the depths of your stomach. While you didn’t know exactly what was wrong, something obviously didn’t feel right. There was no reason for your partner to be looking as unsettled as he did on his own wedding night.

“You’re not having second thoughts already, are you?” you stood up and began to approach him from where he was sitting on the bed, making it more apparent to you that his brows were drawn together in what could only be the beginning of a frown.

“Of course not,” he assured you, though guilt was written all over his face. You weren’t sure how you should interpret your husband looking like a child who just broke an expensive vase on your wedding night, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. “But I need to tell you something.”

“What?” you laughed nervously, the small pit that appeared in your stomach growing into a slightly larger pit. As much as you wanted to dismiss it as nothing, the heavy tension hanging in the air warned you that the odds of his confession being nothing were growing slimmer and slimmer with each passing moment.

“Uh,” he paused as if he was considering his next words very carefully—almost as if he didn’t want to say them at all. You desperately wanted him to speak, rather than keep you hanging. With your nerves exponentially growing with every passing second, you began to feel like if he didn’t say anything soon, you might throw up all over your reception dress.

“Patrick, please spit it out. You’re kinda scaring me,” you could already feel yourself growing upset, despite the fact that he hadn’t said a single word to indicate what was going on with him. Your heart quickened in your chest as you anticipated his next words, despite not having a clue about what might come out of his mouth.

“We always said that if something happened, we could handle it like adults,” the statement was vague and simple, yet Patrick seemed to be choking it out. His cryptic message rattled around in your brain as you desperately searched for meaning in them. Before you could even begin to ask him what he meant, you registered the dismissive, callous language.

Though he didn’t say it often, he had confused you with those very words before—the verbiage alarmingly reminiscent of what he told you before your bachelorette party, or when you brought up the lack of an infidelity clause in his prenup.

If anything ever happened with anyone else, we could both handle it. We’re adults and we can handle things like adults.

Though his words were curious, you dismissed them at the time, never expecting that to be an issue. Of all of your problems with Patrick—his difficulty expressing his emotions, his complicated relationship with his family, his lack of experience in love—you never expected infidelity to be one of those problems.

You swallowed, your saliva feeling thick and poisonous as it slowly crept down your throat. “Honey, what do you mean?”

Patrick didn’t speak, looking down at the pristinely folded sheets in front of him rather than at you. “I’m sorry,” was all that he managed to get out.

You looked at Patrick blankly, waiting for him to tell you that whatever you were assuming wasn’t true or that he was pulling some sort of cruel prank on you. Instead, all you were met with was the sound of blood urgently rushing through your ears and the faint bassline of whatever song the DJ was playing at your reception.

“You know that love is complicated for me,” he looked in your direction, but couldn’t sustain eye contact with you. “Can we be adults about this?”

Once it became clear to you what exactly Patrick was trying to tell you, your knees gave out on you, the rest of your body overwhelmed with the unfathomable information that your brain was trying to process. Patrick cheated on you—and he was telling you just hours after you got married.

The truth of the situation sucked the air right out of your lungs and the strength right out of your body. Your knees buckled under you, and you desperately seeked out anything you could sit on. You settled on the foot of the bed, across from where your husband nervously sat.

“Fuck,” you dug the palms of your hands into your eyes, surely smudging the makeup on your eyelids as you attempted to collect your thoughts. “Who was it?”

“It didn’t mean anything to me,” he pathetically attempted to explain away. It all sounded like gibberish to you. For all you knew, your husband was speaking a totally different language to you.

Despite your question and Patrick’s non-answer, you somehow felt like you knew exactly who he’d been with. The answer was all over his discomfort when he saw you talking to the woman without him by your side, and the way she sized you up and attempted to psych you out of marrying Patrick not even 24 hours ago.

“Was it Tashi?” you asked, not even listening to his empty words and keeping your face frighteningly neutral. You spoke the words like you were playing a round of Guess Who, calm and even despite the budding feeling of dread in your stomach.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. His deafening silence was answer enough

“Can I kick her out?” you asked with an alarmingly stable tone, still mostly unable to process this information, but knowing that it wasn’t good.

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, head still hung and unable to make eye contact with you.

As you took in the truly depressing sight in front of you—your husband’s hunched over posture, a shame so strong that he couldn’t even look at you, and his clipped, short answers—you couldn’t deny that you were tempted to comfort him. In any other situation, if Patrick was feeling a fraction of the negative emotion he seemed to be feeling in that moment, you would instantly be at his side, holding his hand reassuringly or holding him close in a way that told him that if no one else was there for him, you would be, but you weren’t sure you could legitimize his bad behavior with such a response.

Instinctually, you reached out to touch him like you’d done a thousand times before, giving him a hug before a big event or spooning him after a family member said something that got under his skin, but you instantly reprimanded yourself. Despite how sad he looked, Patrick was the one who hurt you. You were the one who deserved comfort.

You opted to pat Patrick’s back instead, a strange and impersonal action. For a moment, you felt less like his wife and more like a practically estranged family member, not sure how to greet you after meeting you for the first time three Thanksgivings ago.

Your husband barely reacted to the stiff action, only looking at you wordlessly with glossed-over eyes. You got up from the foot of the bed and left wordlessly and neutrally, a robot whose only orders were to get out of the bedroom and shut the door behind you.

The moment the door closed, the next goal settled into your mind—you couldn’t let Tashi spend another second in the venue, socializing with your family and drinking the wine that your parents so kindly provided to the wedding, as if she hadn’t been partaking in an affair with your husband.

You felt half a bride and half a zombie as you left the confines of the bedroom and wandered the hallways. You were stone faced as you made your way back to the reception, trying to wrap your head and heart around devastating information that was shared with you at the most inopportune time possible.

You made a slow march down the stairs, movement hindered by your dress, and imagined what you might say to Tashi once you saw her. You should’ve known something was off from the start. You should’ve trusted the bad feeling you had when she sized you up at the bar, smirking at you like the cat who got the cream before feeding you anecdotes about how sleazy your husband used to be for no apparent reason. You should’ve trusted that feeling when Patrick rushed over to pull you away.

You wished you paid attention when Patrick faintly smelled of feminine perfume when you surprised him by coming back from a business trip earlier than anticipated, or when you noticed a bracelet that didn’t belong to you sitting on your coffee table, one that disappeared the very next day. It was so easy to write the signs off at the time–the fragrance of your personal chef and the jewelry of one of his sisters–but it no longer felt that simple. Patrick was a lot of things, but you never expected that a cheater was one of those things.

The thought of Patrick with someone else made you nauseous, especially in your own home. You faintly wondered if they’d fucked in your bed or on the couch. If the answer was yes to either, you desperately wanted to burn the pieces of furniture. In fact, that would be the first thing you set out to do when you returned home after your honeymoon. Maybe you would even beg Patrick to move to a new place, one not haunted by the memories of him and another woman.

That was, if your relationship even survived through the honeymoon. Let alone the night. You didn’t have a clue what your next steps would be. Would you be the fool who stays with a man who proved himself to be disloyal? Or would you be the fool who offered herself to the wrath of one of the most powerful families in the world? You would lose your husband, your job, and your livelihood in one fell swoop, surely being banished back to your family home in Minnesota, destined to be a receptionist at your father’s law firm for the rest of your life.

The entire situation felt surreal in the worst possible way. You couldn’t believe that while you were dealing with the aftermath of this information, Tashi was waltzing around at your reception. More than that, you couldn’t believe the information itself: Patrick cheated. Your fiancé cheated. Your husband cheated on you.

The same Patrick who became a groomzilla, laser-focused on giving you your dream wedding, cheated. The same man who confessed that he didn’t know what love felt like before he met you cheated on you. Your husband, who went out of his way to do anything to make you happy, even at the expense of his very powerful family, hadn’t been loyal to you.

None of it made sense. Maybe you would walk back into the room and your guests would jump out from behind tables and reveal that this was all a cruel joke—a little hazing as you officially became a Zweig—their laughter filling up the room at the thought that you would ever believe something as ridiculous as Patrick cheating on you.

You bit back bile as you walked into the room, the party continuing on the same way it had before you left and before you reentered—no prank to be found. The cacophony of loud music and the chatter of your guests filling your ears once more—what felt fun and exciting just moments before, now being far too overstimulating for someone trying to process information that could fundamentally alter the course of their relationship. You did your best to block out all of the extra noise and focus on your goal at hand.

Find Tashi. Send her home.

You weren’t sure what you would actually do when you saw her. Would you yell at her? Slap her for being a homewrecker? Cry at the sight of her? Laugh at the absurdity of your husband telling you that he’d been having an affair with her on your wedding night?

Peripherally, you heard someone call your name excitedly, only slightly pulling you out of your trance. Still, you couldn’t find it in you to acknowledge whatever excited friend or family member as your eyes set on your target. Tashi Duncan, Patrick’s coworker and ex-girlfriend.

Where you admired her beauty and confidence just a day before, you found you now resented every positive aspect about her. As she stood by a table and talked to one of Patrick’s sisters, surely bored out of her mind by the delusional ramblings about his sister someday being the president, she nodded and smiled diplomatically.

As you really began to think about it, you realized that she was the perfect candidate to be Patrick’s wife. She came from a background similar to his, his sisters liked her far more than they liked you—though that didn’t mean much—and physically, she seemed to be exactly your husband’s type.

Part of you wondered if she was feeling as miserable as you were; if she’d spent the day imagining your wedding to be her own, if her own jealousy was blinding her the way that yours currently was blinding you, or if she’d begged Patrick not to marry you during their work meeting the previous night. The other part of you wondered if she thought of you as pathetic as you currently felt—a stupid woman so blinded by her own love that she overlooked every beaming, bright red flag.

Your pace quickened as you walked towards Tashi, heels clicking annoyingly as they marked your pace. As you made your way to the table, you found yourself growing more anxious, the first real feeling you’d felt since Patrick shared with you the truth about his infidelity.

“Hey,” you greeted Tashi and Patrick’s sister, voice surprisingly even for how agitated you were. “Mind if I chat with Tashi?”

“Go ahead,” Cornelia shrugged. “Let’s stay in touch?” she asked Tashi, who politely agreed and watched the other woman walk off.

Tashi opened her mouth to speak to you, presumably to comment on something asinine about the wedding, or to make an observation about your wedding that you’d already heard a thousand times that night. If you weren’t so upset, you would make a bet with yourself on whether she’d tell you how beautiful the wedding was, or how beautiful you and your husband looked at the altar.

“Your housing for the night fell through,” you explained in a very level tone. It wasn’t the best excuse, but it was what came out of your mouth.

“Oh?” she asked, sounding more than a little skeptical, before lifting her drink to her lips. “Do you know where else I might be able to find lodging at this hour?”

“No,” you replied quickly and with ease. “Actually, it’d probably be best if you just went home now.”

“Home like…?” she trailed off and eyed you curiously.

“Like back to New York. I’m sure you can find a flight.”

She laughed in slight disbelief. “You realize this is a work function for me, right? I have work to do.”

“I’m sure you can do that work back home,” you dismissed, not backing down. By now, it was clear that Tashi was putting together the pieces of what you knew. In fact, you could pinpoint the exact moment when it occurred to her why the two of you were having this conversation in the first place.

Maybe it was the lack of your now-husband beside you, or the barely concealed emotion on your face. Regardless of what was your biggest tell on the situation, you continued to stare her down, resenting the way her lips shifted into a small smile, as if she still had the upper hand and knew something that you didn’t. It was almost as if she found the whole ordeal to be a little amusing, which only bothered you more.

“No need to make a scene at your wedding. I’ll be on my way.” She lifted her glass up once again to finish the drink off, but you stopped her.

You returned intense eye contact with her as you took the stemware right out of her hands and put it to your own lips, finishing the drink in a few large gulps. Though your action was impulsive, it felt like somewhat of a necessity. You desperately needed the liquid distraction from your less-than-ideal situation, and you didn’t want to give her an excuse to linger at your party a single moment longer than she needed to.

She continued to stare at you, her expression somewhere in the middle of being impressed and weirded out. “Alright then. Well, congratulations on the wedding.”

“Fuck off,” you spat out, turning on your heel and walking away without bothering to see if she stayed or left.

You made your rounds around the reception, smiling and talking to your guests with a fake smile plastered on your face. The shock of Patrick’s initial confession wore off shortly after you told Tashi off, but you still couldn’t help but feel completely numb to the situation. How else were you supposed to react when you found out the love of your life was sleeping with someone else?

You continued to man the reception on your own, occasionally scanning the room but not catching a glimpse of your husband. You wondered if he was still in your bedroom, head in his hands as he wondered if he just opened a Pandora’s box on your relationship, or if Tashi went to go find him to discuss how poorly you reacted to the information. For all you knew, the two of them could be laughing at you or having sex in your wedding bed at the same time that you attempted to pretend that everything was perfectly fine. You grew faint at the mere thought.

Eventually, you felt a familiar hand on the small of your back, something that typically was a welcome, comforting gesture. Instead, you wanted to flinch away from his hand like it was hot. You couldn’t believe that Patrick had the nerve to touch you like everything was fine after dropping such devastating information on you. Then again, at least he wasn’t hooking up with Tashi one last time.

Still, even under the spell of a sadness that hadn’t quite settled in yet, you leaned into his touch instinctively. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t feel as comfortable as it did a few hours ago.

“Such a beautiful ceremony,” a family friend of Patrick’s gushed to you. “You two have something really special.”

You felt Patrick’s eyes sear into you, desperately pleading for you to look back into them and show him that everything was going to be okay. That what you had was special enough that you’d be able to move past this. Like adults, as he said to you earlier.

You weren’t so sure that you could.

The rest of the night moved painfully slowly. Where the two of you socialized separately before his private conversation with you, he seemed to be attached to your hip now, bringing you apology offers of champagne flutes and hor d'oeuvres.

Though he pleaded with you to handle your situation like adults, you wanted to act more like a petulant child. If you had it your way, you would reject his offerings of food by tossing them onto the floor, or throw a glass of sticky alcohol in his face as if you were a Real Housewife.

If you had it your way, Patrick wouldn’t have cheated on you in the first place, and you’d be celebrating your wedding without the baggage of uncertainty for the future of your relationship.

As you walked through the reception, you weren’t particularly angry or sad, you just felt numb. There was a strange concession in knowing that what happened in the past already happened, and that there was no way for you to change your husband’s behavior. For a moment, you wondered if the numbness was a symptom of the shock that was Patrick’s confession, or you would feel the dull thud of nothingness for the rest of your life.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as you watched the last of your guests filtered out of the venue, relieved to finally drop the façade of being a happy newlywed and to embrace the true feeling of shock that had been biting at you all night.

Somehow managing to break away from your suddenly very clingy spouse, you wasted no time gathering an unopened bottle of wine for yourself, along with a cigarette and a lighter, which you unceremoniously exchanged with a caterer for a Venmo payment. You then headed outside to a balcony that overlooked a beautiful sprawling garden.

You looked out on the neatly trimmed hedges and the bench where you sat with Patrick not even twenty-four hours ago and distantly thought about how perfectly the night should’ve gone. You got married at a beautiful venue, had every detail down to the positioning of napkins meticulously planned, and most importantly, were marrying someone you genuinely loved and couldn’t see yourself living without.

It was all rather devastating now, to see how just a few words managed to ruin what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

You took a swig from the bottle, lamenting the fact that his affair partner had been drinking this very wine earlier that night. At the thought of Tashi, you took yet another hefty swig.

Just as you reached for the lighter to light the cigarette you so desperately needed, Patrick burst through the doors of the balcony, slightly out of breath and sweat beading on his forehead. In between his heavy breaths, you swore you caught a sigh of relief.

You couldn’t say that you were pleased to see him—after all, you’d escaped to the balcony to get a little time alone and to think through the night—but as you took in his dramatic entrance and disheveled appearance, it became abundantly clear to you that he’d been urgently looking for you.

“Want some?” you asked, gesturing to the bottle. Your question was more than just an offer for a drink, but a peace treaty, offering Patrick to stay outside with you despite your more complicated feelings towards him.

“Sure,” he agreed, still slightly out of breath. He collected himself as you passed him the bottle, locking eyes with you as he took a swig from the expensive drink. It felt like time moved a little slower as you watched his lips wrap around the opening of the bottle and the way his Adam's apple bobbed while the drink went down.

You suddenly realized that complicated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt towards Patrick. You loved him more than anything, and you were sure that you needed him in your life—but beneath the thick layers of numbness was a reservoir of hurt, far deeper than you ever imagined you could harbor for the man.

He passed the bottle back to you, his hands gently brushing over yours. Momentarily, you felt scandalized by the action, unsure if you should feel your cheeks heating up from the small touch or if you should flinch away from it. By the time the brief moment was over, you hadn’t done either, electing to set your gaze back over the rail instead of at your partner.

Patrick stood silently beside you, not requesting anything more to drink or even attempting to make small talk. It seemed that he was just as aware as you were that he’d changed your entire dynamic with just a few words. You wondered if he realized just how much he’d fucked both of you by fucking someone else.

You shivered in the cold night, your dress not providing you much coverage in the elements. If your wedding night had gone any differently, Patrick would’ve offered you his suit jacket, draping the item over your shoulders and kissing you sweetly. Then again, if the night had gone differently, you likely wouldn’t be shivering on the balcony in the first place.

You squatted to set down the bottle on the ground and rediscovered the cigarette and lighter. Though you weren’t usually one to smoke, you desperately needed it after the shitshow that was your wedding night.

Though you put the stick to your lips, you struggled to light the cigarette, the frigid breeze making everything slightly more difficult. It didn’t help that you hadn’t smoked since you were a teenager, giggling with your friends as you clumsily attempted and failed to light up the stick, the match pinched between your fingertips quickly burning down. The contrast between the silly memory and your far less silly reality felt jarring, to say the least.

“Here, let me,” Patrick said softly, taking the lighter from you and cupping his hand around the tip of the cigarette. You tried not to look at him too closely as you listened to the soft clicking sound of the lighter. Though he should’ve focused on the action so he didn’t burn his finger tips or the palm of his hand blocking the wind, he didn’t seem to be able to look at anything but you. The light of the flame briefly illuminated both of your faces, momentarily giving you a better look at his sad eyes.

You inhaled as the flame touched the tip, and turned your head to exhale the smoke, not wanting to blow it in the face of your partner or have to spend another second under the scrutiny of his intense eye contact.

Even as you looked away and into the garden below, you could feel Patrick’s eyes burning into you. You were sure that if you looked back over at him, you would see him looking particularly downtrodden, lips parted for words that were on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite say yet, and eyebrows drawn together in a way that only seemed to highlight the sadness in his eyes.

Unspoken questions lingered in the air like the smoke from the cigarette dangling from your lips. Though you didn’t care for the smell, you were pretty sure you preferred the smoke to the questions.

Finally, a quiet question was spoken into the air, “Can I?” Patrick asked, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips.

“Sure,” you replied noncommittally as you pulled the cigarette away from you and passed it to your husband. Electing to watch him instead of the unchanging garden, you observed as Patrick’s lips closed over the space where yours had just been, covering the hint of a lipstick stain that you’d left on it. After a long drag, he passed the cigarette back to you, his hand brushing softly over yours once more as you did so.

This pattern continued, a heavy silence falling between the two of you as you shared the cigarette, your hands caressing the other’s softly.

“Here,” you murmured as you approached the filter. Instead of passing it back to Patrick, you brought it up to his lips, watching him intently as he breathed in the smoke.

For a moment, all you could see was his face, illuminated by the burning end of the cigarette, pupils blown with something you couldn’t quite place. You weren’t sure if you wanted to ravish him right there on the balcony or push him off of it.

He blew the smoke right back into your face, electing to still share the last of the cigarette with you. You wondered if that meant anything. It probably didn’t.

The two of you stood looking at each other, staring wordlessly as you waited for the other person to move a muscle or say something—anything. For a moment, you considered telling Patrick that you wanted an annulment. But then again, that wasn’t exactly the truth.

“I’m going to bed,” you broke the silence with your announcement. “I need to change out of this dress.”

You wished it were that simple. You desperately wanted to scrub the day off of you and to pinch yourself until you woke up. Surely, this couldn’t be your actual wedding night. Maybe you could wake up in the morning and find that this was all a bad dream—the manifestation of anxiety before your big day.

But, as Patrick trailed behind you in the hallway as if you would disappear if you left his sight, you were pretty sure that this was the reality. You wouldn’t wake up and find that your husband had been loyal to you.

Your return to the room was a silent one. The moment you stepped foot through the door, it felt like you were back in that horrible moment; like Patrick was moments from revealing to you that Tashi was the tip of the iceberg.

Bile rose in your throat once more. You made a beeline to the bathroom, hoping that the change of scenery might halt your thoughts altogether.

You stepped out of the bathroom with an entirely different mindset than what you had as you entered. Sure, your wedding night wasn’t at all what you expected it to be, but it didn’t mean that you couldn’t put it back on the right track. In the bathroom, you slipped on a silky nightie, what you hoped would be a reminder to both of you that this wasn’t any old regular night, but your wedding night. Though, with the day you just had, you weren’t so sure that either of you would be up for a particularly romantic night. You guessed it couldn’t hurt.

You left the bathroom as a woman on a mission, your eyes set on Patrick as you crossed the bedroom floor to get to him. Though he’d been laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling like it had the secrets to the universe written on it, the sound of your entrance drew his attention over to you. You gently bit your lower lip and hoped that your face said ‘sexy’ rather than ‘so nervous you might be sick.’

His eyes stayed locked on you as you crawled into bed, and you hoped once more that the action of you moving towards him on your hands and knees didn’t appear as desperate as you felt on the inside.

It felt like your evening consisted of one desperate plea after another: Please don’t do this to me. Please just pretend that everything’s fine. Please don’t leave me.

He followed your lead as you trailed your hand up his arm and looked at him as seductively as you could manage before pushing him down onto the bed and straddling his lap. Distantly, you wondered how Tashi imitated things with him—if she did anything that Patrick liked more about her than you. You did your best to push that thought away, but failed miserably.

Mechanically, you ran your hands through his hair and kissed him passionately. You tried to ignore the lump in your throat and reminded yourself that it was just Patrick. Things weren’t all that different, except for the fact that he was your husband now—and that he cheated on you.

You tried once more to push that thought out of your mind as you moved your hips against his lap, but your attempts were in vain. It certainly didn’t help that as you kissed him, you tasted the cigarette you shared earlier in his breath—an unwelcome reminder of the awkward tension that lingered between the two of you after he shared the truth about his infidelity. And surely, it was just your mind, but his lips almost tasted like the chapstick of another woman.

Suddenly, all you could think about was Tashi with your husband. Him and Tashi in your bedroom, or in a hotel room, or on your couch. Did she do anything special that drove him crazy? What did she have that you didn’t?

Your body said one thing, but your brain said something completely different. You did your best to power through the thoughts of your husband being with another woman, but you were beginning to realize that when it came to cheating, you weren’t all that tough. You bit down on Patrick’s lip in what you hoped would be a light nibble, but the taste of iron quickly filled your mouth.

You slowed down your movements as your thoughts sped up before you gave up entirely. You supposed it was a classic case of mind over matter, and your mind was not nearly as strong as any of your physical urges.

You shifted off of Patrick far later than you should’ve, feeling like a complete and utter failure. You couldn’t even do the one thing you should’ve been able to do during your wedding night. No wonder he found solace in someone else’s body.

“I’m sorry,” you said weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

It took you rolling off of Patrick to realize that his face was damp, eyes glossy with a thin layer of tears threatening to fall. The pit in your stomach that had been steadily growing since Patrick pulled you aside to tell you something finally came to a head when you realized that your husband was crying.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, his voice cracking on the last syllable of his question.

A fresh tear rolled down his cheek, which was then followed by a few other droplets. He turned his head away from you and wiped them away quickly so you wouldn’t notice them, but the damage was already done.

You’d never seen Patrick cry before—not when you watched sad movies that left you bawling, not when the two of you watched advertisements for puppies in shelters, not even when he thought his dad might be dying. To see him shed tears over you felt particularly unsettling.

“Patrick?” you said his name softly, like he was delicate and going to break.

“I should be the one who’s sorry,” he looked towards you once more, eyes now rimmed with red. “I ruined everything already. I'm so sorry.”

This was a complete wild card on top of a stack of wild cards. If someone told you that your wedding night would end with your husband telling you he cheated on you, a pathetic failed attempt at sex, then watching your partner cry for the first time in front of you, you would’ve laughed in their face.

His crying continued, becoming slightly more intense as sorrow racked through his body. You’d never been in a situation like this before, so you were completely unsure of what to do.

With all prior restraint to show him physical affection gone, you awkwardly slotted your arms around your husband. He automatically leaned into you, burying his face in your shoulder as he continued to shed quiet tears. Your shoulder quickly grew damp as you threaded your fingers through his curls, the repetitive petting being just as soothing for you as it was for him.

Despite it all, you still felt a general sense of nothing at all. You were beginning to grow concerned, knowing that deep down there were certainly emotions that weren’t ready to approach the surface. You worried about what it might look like once those feelings finally came out, but that was the least of your worries when it came to your weeping husband.

Patrick continued to cry quietly, the only sound in the room being his soft, occasional sniffles. You couldn’t even place how you felt or how long you sat there stone faced as you cradled your husband.

Eventually, the tears on your shoulder dried and the intervals between sniffles grew further and further. Soon, the soft sounds of weeping turned into the long and deep breaths of rest. Between you playing with his hair and holding him, he must’ve fallen asleep. You couldn’t really blame him—given your eventful day, your all-nighter the previous day, and the energy it took for him to cry.

You gently laid Patrick back down on his side of the bed, pulling a blanket over his chest and pushing back the hair on his forehead to press a kiss to him. He stirred slightly against the forehead kiss, but didn’t seem to wake up all the way. Even when your feelings were complicated towards the man, you couldn’t help being affectionate towards him. In some ways, you felt like you needed that affection just as much as he did.

You let out a long sigh as the reality of everything truly began to set in, and you no longer had to be strong for your weeping partner. You couldn’t wrap your head around the sight of Patrick crying for the first time, or the fact that he cheated on you. You flicked off the bedside lamp, the only source of light in your otherwise darkened bedroom.

You rolled over in bed and laid on your back, setting your hands on your stomach and staring up at the ceiling. You traced your eyes over the pattern of the ceiling, though it was dark and not all that clear. You wondered if you looked at it long enough, if you’d be able to make some sense out of it. You glanced over at Patrick and wondered the same thing.

You just couldn’t understand why he’d cheat on you. You’d always been under the impression that he was just as happy in your relationship as you were. Despite his promiscuous past, he never seemed like the type of person to not be loyal to you.

You noticed a teardrop trail down his cheek in his sleep, and you gently thumbed it away. The small movement turned into you tracing a line down his nose and over his lips, then over his eyebrows and back down through the few freckles that dotted his face. Maybe if you watched him long enough, if you learned every detail of his face, someone would reveal to you why he’d done something so illogical and cruel.

You worried about how the two of you could move forward from something like this. Though Patrick always approached the topic of infidelity with a dismissive attitude, cheating had always been a deal breaker for you in your past relationships. It shattered your trust in a way that was so foundational, you couldn’t fathom a world where your relationship with Patrick stayed exactly the same after this.

Part of you knew already that moving forward, you’d constantly wonder if he was genuinely working late or if he was having an affair, or if his eye was wandering at events despite you standing by his side. And that was just trust when it came to relationships—obviously his lie was far deeper than just that. Now, you knew that Patrick had the capacity to hold a secret that massive from you, then share it at the worst possible time.

In fact, his timing felt so terrible that you momentarily wondered if it was some sort of power play. Was Patrick trying to remind you that you weren’t equals in this partnership? Was he trying to manipulate you by only sharing this information to you after you were married to him and couldn’t easily call everything off?

Your stomach turned at the possibility that Patrick wasn’t really who he said he was, and that you’d been baited and switched. You recalled the first time you met Patrick’s family, how he switched on a dime and became far more calculated and cruel to them than you’d ever seen him be with you. Was that the realest version of your husband, and the person he was with you just a façade? Was this some sort of long game he was playing with his family to piss a few people off? Did Patrick even love you?

For the first time in your relationship, you felt like you didn’t know who you were sleeping next to. Surely, this couldn’t be the same Patrick who you set out to have a quick hook up with, and ended up talking to him for hours. It couldn’t be the same Patrick who held you tight at night and gave you kisses every morning in your kitchen. The same Patrick from your vows a few hours ago, whose hands shook as he read from notecards and declared his love for you.

You frowned as you looked over Patrick once more. You resented how he was able to sleep so peacefully after inflicting such hurt on you. Did he even understand how destroyed you were? You couldn’t see yourself sleeping through the night in the foreseeable future, your head too filled with questions about your relationship and questions about his relationship with her. Would they continue the affair? Would they still work together after this, leaving you to wonder for the rest of your life if they were still going behind your back?

You desperately wished the thoughts would stop, but they kept coming, punctuated by the sounds of Patrick’s soft snores behind you.

By the time the sun began to peek through the blinds, your hand was on Patrick’s face once again. You wondered how it was possible for him to hurt someone he loved as much as he loved you, if his definition of love was so skewed by a lifetime of abuse labeled as love from his parents, and siblings who used cruelty as a form of affection.

Maybe you should’ve listened to the warnings everyone gave you, from your parents who warned that your husband and his family may be more than you bargained for, from his sisters who never seemed to be able to fully wrap their head around Patrick committing to someone, let alone you. Maybe you should’ve even listened to Tashi’s coded warning about his inability to commit and stay loyal. It seemed like everyone saw the fate of your relationship coming except you.

With the early morning light illuminating the room, things felt a little clearer for you. Beneath the numbness that protected you the previous night was a more painful undercurrent of hurt that was already beginning to eat away at you.

For the past several years of your life, you hadn’t had to deal with any painful feelings on your own. Patrick was always there beside you to hold you tight and reassure you that everything would be okay. As you laid next to him, you realized that despite all the pain he’d inflicted on you, all you really wanted was to be held by him.

Knowing that he was sleeping peacefully beside you, you opted to hold him, draping your body over his and pulling yourself as close as you could manage to him. You leaned your ear against his back, taking in the warmth he gave you and listening to his heart beat. As the two of your breaths and heartbeats began to match the other’s pace, you lamented that even now, your hearts beat as one.

For the first time that evening, your eye prickled with the threat of tears.

You lost track of how long you held your husband, but it was long enough to notice the pattern of his breath changing. You’d woken up beside him enough times to recognize that he was clearly awake, yet he made no other indication to you that he was awake. He wanted you to hold him. You wondered if he thought this might be the last time you ever do that for him. You wondered if it was the last time you’d ever do that for him.

The two of you pretended to be asleep despite the fact that you were both obviously awake, but no one commented on anything. After your arms began to grow numb, you turned your back to Patrick, hoping that he would return the favor and give you what you really wanted. You were pleased to find that he just as eagerly wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and breathing quietly in your ear.

The two of you sat in complete silence, pretending you didn’t know what the other person was doing. Somehow, it felt like that was about to become a recurring theme in your relationship.

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #challengers x reader #challengers fic #patrick zweig smut #art donalson x reader #reader insert #josh o'connor x reader #josh o'connor #patrick zweig angst

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kwanisms · 9 days

Text

Of Hellfire & Saints 02 — k.hongjoong, k.yeosang

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➮ incubus!Hongjoong × fem!Reader wc: 22.9k (in this part. 50.2k total) summary: After the death of the love of her life, Y/N runs away from the village only to be caught in a heavy storm but she manages to find refuge in Hongjoong's hut in the forest. While waiting out the storm, someone knocks on the door, prompting her to answer the door. genres/themes/au: angst, slight fluff, smut; fantasy, horror, supernatural, biblical & demonic; non idol au, historical setting, demon warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, historical period setting (think Puritan or like Salem witch trials but fantasy and with more creative liberty lol), mentions of: alcohol & food consumption, witches & witchcraft, religious text & ideology, harm against animals, pregnancy; attempted SA, major & minor character deaths (heed this warning, i’m not playing around. This shit is DARK), sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

a/n: the word count on this got away from me and so to make it all fit because i really don't want to edit it down, I've split it into two posts. I had really hoped to keep the word count down after what happened with part one but I really could not stop writing. as I said in the author notes of the first part, read with care and caution. Do NOT ignore the warnings. They are there for a reason, a lot of people die. It’s not fun. It’s gruesome. Also keep in mind that every action has a reason. Now that’s out of the way, please enjoy this sequel and keep an eye out for the next part which will be Seonghwa’s backstory. Thank you so much for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: smut warnings: there are multiple scenes in this so I will list the warnings for each one here but all of them involved unprotected sex. You do not do this. Use protection, this is fantasy. MAIN SCENE: fingering (f receiving), use of pet names (love, sweetheart, darling, etc), love-making (again because they’re in love~), cum inside, and that’s also it on this one! SMALLER SCENES: mentions of oral (f receiving, m receiving) and other elements of foreplay as well as table sex but nothing mentioned in great detail.

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The next morning you woke up before Yeosang and got up, grabbed your nightgown from your things, and pulled it on. Normally you would get dressed but as this was now your marital home, you didn’t feel the need to follow your parents rules. Instead, you made breakfast, collected a few eggs from the chicken coop and prepared a nice breakfast as well as some tea.

Once breakfast was ready, you carried the plates into the bedroom where Yeosang was still asleep and sat on the edge of the bed. You set the plates down and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek and watched as he slowly came to.

He opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep and looked up at you sleepily, a smile crossing his face as you came into focus. “Morning,” he murmured and you smiled back, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Good morning, husband,” you said softly.

Yeosang’s eyes opened again as the realization sank in, his smile growing wider. “Oh, right,” he said as he reached up, caressing your cheek. “We got married,” he whispered to which you giggled and stole another kiss. “We got married,” you repeated.

Yeosang pulled you into a kiss, lips parting yours but you pulled back before he could escalate any further. “We can always spend the morning in bed,” you said softly as you sat up. “But you should eat breakfast first,” you added. You turned, grabbing one of the plates and holding it for him. Yeosang glanced at the plates and then back at you.

“Shouldn’t we get up and eat at the table?” he asked, to which you chuckled, kissing his confused face. “Who said we have to?” you asked as you handed him his plate and utensils. Yeosang sat up, leaning against the headboard as you grabbed the other plate and carefully climbed over him, taking the spot next to him with a giggle. He laughed as you settled in next to him and started eating.

“This is our home,” you said as you looked up at him. “And we make the rules here.”

You both ate breakfast, sipping the tea you had made and when you both finished, you took the plates and cups into the kitchen and set them aside to wash later before returning to the bed. Yeosang started to get up but you removed your chemise, letting it fall to the floor. Yeosang looked up at your naked form as you approached him.

“If this is what it’s like to be married,” he started, taking your hand and guiding you onto the bed as you pulled the covers back. “I’m glad I asked you to marry me.”

The next couple hours were spent in bed, Yeosang learning your body and you learning his, exploring each other more thoroughly. He took the lead, having picked up quickly what you liked and that you preferred him on top of you.

You introduced him to other aspects of the marital bed, learning very quickly what he liked and what made him weak in your hands. He wasted no time exploring your body and reciprocating the things you had learned from Hongjoong.

He learned that he really liked the way you tasted and how he could make you come undone with his tongue and fingers. He learned there was more to sex than just procreating and after multiple orgasms and coming inside you numerous times during your sessions, there was no doubt in your minds that one of them had to take.

You lay on the bed after hours of lovemaking, Yeosang on top of you, his head resting on your chest as you relaxed. Without warning, he raised his head and looked at you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I know we’ve only been married for less than a day but I honestly think I —” his words were cut off by a sharp knocking at the door.

Yeosang glanced in the direction of the front door before turning to look at you. “Hold that thought,” he said as he got up, hastily grabbing his clothes and dressed quickly. You pulled the covers up as he walked over to the door, throwing you a grimace before closing it.

You sat up, holding the sheets to your chest as you listened to his footsteps approach the front door followed by the sound of it opening. “Oh, Jonas,” you heard your husband say and fought the urge to burst into laughter, knowing full well that Yeosang probably looked less than presentable.

“Is everything alright?” you heard Jonas ask. You stifled a laugh as Yeosang stammered out a yes. He admitted the two of you woke up late and it took everything inside you not to burst out laughing at Jonas’ next question.

“Did the missus keep you up all night?”

You could imagine the look on Yeosang’s face and that his cheeks were probably bright red but he did sound embarrassed as he cleared his throat and spoke.

“Is there a reason you’re visiting me?” You shifted on the bed, straining your ears to hear the next words.

“The priests have started to arrive. The ones you sent for from the neighboring villages.”

Your eyes widened. ‘Priests?’ you wondered as you listened in. “Oh! I’ll just get dressed and meet you at the church,” Yeosang replied, sounding slightly flustered. You couldn’t see Jonas but imagined he nodded as his response was delayed for a moment.

“I think that would be best. I’m sure your wife could use the time during your absence to attend to her household duties.” Your smile fell but you let the comment slide. You heard the sound of footsteps heading for the door and Yeosang bid Jonas farewell before shutting the door.

You heard his steps shuffle towards the bedroom door and it opened. You looked up, meeting his eyes and finally the laughter you’d been holding in sprang free and you erupted into a fit of giggles as he entered the bedroom, moving to the bed and climbing onto it.

“How much did you hear?” he asked and you managed to choke out you heard enough. A grin spread across his face and soon your laughter came out unabashed as he started to tickle your sides. “You find it funny?” he asked as he continued to tickle you, laughing at your attempts to stop him. “He knew! He knew what we were doing!” he added.

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him down. “Of course he knew, Yeosang. We’re a young married couple. We just married yesterday. Of course we’re going to consummate our marriage.” Yeosang looked mortified but could help smile as you continued to giggle and pulled him into a kiss.

He leaned into you, deepening the kiss before he pulled back. “No,” he said as you kissed down the side of his neck. “I have to go. I can’t stay here in bed with you, as tempting as it is,” he added, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “After I meet with this priest, I will return and then we can resume, all right?”

You pouted up at him which only made him chuckle and tap the tip of your nose gently. “I promise, sweetheart,” he added, the sound of the name on his tongue making a flutter erupt in your stomach. “I have to meet with these priests and explain the situation and afterwards, I’ll come back.”

He pressed a few short kisses to your lips and you sighed. “Oh all right,” you finally conceded. “How long will you be?” you asked, taking his hand and nuzzling into his palm. “A few hours maybe,” he replied, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

You nodded slowly before sighing again. “Then I shall have lunch ready when you get back.” Yeosang smiled, pulling you into another kiss. “I look forward to it,” he said before getting up and starting to dress and make himself presentable.

Once he left, you got up and dressed finally and went about your chores, cleaning the used dishes and starting a fire to make lunch. You worked diligently as you hummed to yourself. You cut up potatoes and other vegetables from the pantry and added them to a pot with some beef stock as well as a cut of beef.

As it simmered, you went to work cleaning and putting away your things. You also hung up your painting, the one you had made of the wildflower field. As you stared at it, your mind wandered, a bittersweet feeling filling your chest.

Things had changed so drastically in the last few weeks since Hongjoong’s death. Before, you had planned to run away with Hongjoong, marry elsewhere, and start a life near the sea. That seemed like a distant memory now as you stood in your new home where you would live with your husband.

You had never imagined you would marry Yeosang as he was not the man you had fallen for but as the events unfolded, you couldn’t see yourself with anyone else. Hongjoong was the love of your life but you knew with Yeosang, you could be happy. You would be.

As promised, Yeosang returned but later than lunchtime as while he was meeting with the first priest, another arrived making it two he needed to speak with. When he returned for dinner, you sat at the table this time, listening as he told you about the priests, one named Yunho and one named Jongho.

That night as you were cleaning up after dinner, Yeosang joined you and despite your insistence that he leave the work to you, he helped you anyway. Initially you thought it was odd but as soon as the dishes were done he pulled you into a kiss which led to him guiding you to the table where he made you lie back as his kisses traveled down your clothed body, pulling your skirt up and burying his head between your thighs.

He had you on the brink of orgasm in no time and instead of letting you fall over the edge, he pulled back, wiping his mouth as he undid his pants and pushed them down, freeing his cock which he then pushed into you. It was raw, carnal and passionate as he made love to you on the table.

You seemed to have awakened a sexual beast in him after the first night and the next few days consisted of the same schedule. Meeting the priests who arrived, giving a brief explanation of the situation and taking them around the village to introduce them to the villagers before returning home for dinner and spending a good portion of the night making love to you.

His stamina and strength surprised you, as well his ability to pin you down against the nearest flat surface and make you moan his name over and over again. It was almost more than you could bear but bear it you did, because you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every moment of it. Yeosang all but worshiped your body and any chance he had to show you that, he took.

His sexual appetite did not diminish even when the misfortunes of the village continued with the odd goat or pig being slaughtered in the night. Yeosang continued to show you physical love every night and even some mornings before you could pull yourself out of the tangle of sheets that was your marital bed.

Whether or not your attempts had gotten you pregnant didn’t matter to you. You enjoyed the physically intimate relationship between you and your husband immensely and that was more important than some religious texts telling you to have children. If a child came as a result of your union, then you would cherish that but it was not the goal.

For Yeosang, he was conflicted with his sexual urges because of the teachings of the church but he also knew that you were not exactly a godly woman but that didn’t bother him in the slightest. He knew this when he agreed to marry you. He wanted to protect you from the villagers' wrath should things go south but he also felt that by marrying you, it would also offer another layer of protection against the demon.

Surely Hongjoong would become enraged if he learned of the relationship between the two of you but that was a risk Yeosang was willing to take. He’d grown to love you before your wedding and while he hadn’t had the chance to tell you just yet, he still wanted to show you.

The day the final priest showed up was a quiet morning. A flock of chickens had been slaughtered in their coop the night before and the aftermath had been a slew of wails, cries, and calls for action. The last priest to arrive, a man named Mingi, was from the next closest village on the other side of the mountains. He arrived in the middle of the night so Yeosang was already in for the night.

Jonas had offered him shelter and promised to rouse Yeosang in the morning which Yeosang would come to be eternally grateful for as he was deep in the throes of passion with you, tangled in the sheets as he made love to you again and again.

The next morning, Yeosang finally met with him to explain the situation and introduce him to the other priests. Mingi was a soft-spoken but highly intelligent man with an interesting history with witches. Yeosang had asked you before leaving to prepare a dinner large enough for all the priests so you planned to go foraging, stopping by your parent’s house to meet with your mother who agreed to go with you.

As you walked into the forest not too far from the village, you found the small section where you usually collected mushrooms from.

“How is married life?” your mother asked as you knelt down to start unearthing the mushrooms. “It is good,” you replied as you worked, handing her the mushrooms to put in the sack. “And how is your husband treating you?”

You looked up at her to see that she had a knowing look on her face. “He’s wonderful,” you answered truthfully. You handed her a few more mushrooms before getting up to move to another section, searching for more.

“And will we be expecting any new additions to the village soon?”

You glanced up at her, taking note of her smile before a smile spread over your face and you turned away in an attempt to hide it from your mother. “Y/N! Don’t you try to hide it from me!” your mother whispered, gently hitting you with the linen sack.

“We’re not trying exactly,” you explained as you dug up mushrooms. “We’re just… enjoying the marital bed,” you continued. “If a child comes from our… activities, we will gladly welcome it. Right now, Yeosang’s focus is the demon,” you added.

Your mother stepped forward and knelt beside you, taking your hand in hers. “Becoming a mother is the greatest honor God can bestow upon you, Y/N,” she said gently. “It is your duty to give your husband children.” You nodded and looked up. “I know,” you answered. “I will welcome one if it comes but if one doesn’t…” you trailed off as a high pitched whistle rang out.

You turned to look around, noticing how the forest seemed to grow darker around you. Your mother stood without a word, looking into the trees, a look of dread and horror etched on her face. “Mother?” you asked, getting to your feet.

“Run,” your mother whispered, not taking her eyes off a particular spot in the trees. “Mama?” you asked, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “RUN!” she screamed, pushing you away. You fell back from the force and looked over in time to see a dark smoke billow out from the trees, heading for you and your mother.

You watched in horror as the smoke started to envelope your mother and she turned to look at you one final time. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N,” she said, her voice panicked as the smoke shrouded her. “Run and don’t look back!”

Before you could get to your feet, the smoke turned black, obscuring your mother from view and her anguished screams of pain filled the air, sending the birds in the trees into a flight, squawking as they did.

When the smoke dissipated, all that remained of your mother was a charred, skeletal corpse. You heard a twig snap and turned your head to see a black, shadowy figure with glowing red eyes watching you with a wide, crooked grin full of sharp teeth.

Your breathing came in heavy pants as you tried to scramble backwards, the figure floating towards you. As it drew closer, you could see the face come into view and let out a whimper of fear to see Hongjoong staring back at you, his skin blackened and cracked.

“Run little lamb,” he said in a deep, demonic voice. Before you could act, he lunged forward and you let out a scream, sitting upright. There was a shuffling from the other room and the door opened. You turned, cowering away as a figure entered the room and rushed over to the bed where you lay.

“Shh, shh,” a familiar voice said and you looked up as Yeosang sat down, taking your hand in his. “It’s alright, love,” he added. “I’m here.” He pulled you into a hug, stroking your back as you calmed down. “Wh-what happened?” you asked.

Yeosang pulled back and turned to look at the door where your mother stood, a wet cloth in her hand and worried look on her face. “You fainted,” she said without hesitation. You looked from her to Yeosang and back. “When?”

Your mother stepped forward. “When we went into the forest to get mushrooms. You were digging some up and took ill, fainting out on the ground.” You stared at her, trying to wrack your brain but all you could recall was the horrid dream you’d had.

‘It was a dream, right?’

You looked up at Yeosang who gently took your face in his hands, caressing the apple of your cheeks. “It’s all right, love,” he said softly. “Just take it slow,” he added as you pushed his hands away and attempted to sit up.

“Have you been feeling faint or taken ill in the mornings lately?” your mother asked, drawing your attention. You shook your head as you looked at her, watching her exchange looks with your husband. “What is going on?” you demanded.

“Your mother thinks — ” Yeosang started but your mother interrupted him, stepping forward to speak over your husband. “You might be with child,” she announced. You stared at her in stunned silence before turning your gaze to Yeosang who sighed and looked back at you.

“It’s highly possible,” he admitted, caressing your cheek with one hand and taking your hand with the other. ‘With child? Now?’ You fell silent as your mother and husband both talked at the same time until you finally snapped. “How can we know for sure?” you asked.

Both fell silent, looking at you. “How can we know for sure that I am with child?” Yeosang turned to your mother who hesitated before clearing her throat and speaking. “There are ways to check,” she admitted. “Specific… test we can perform.”

Yeosang glanced at you before speaking to your mother. “What sort of tests?” he asked. Your mother hesitated, wringing the cloth in her hand nervously. “Well, the barley and wheat test,” she said softly. “She would need to urinate on barley and wheat seeds over the course of several days. If the barley seeds sprout then it will be a boy. If the wheat seeds sprout, then you’ll be having a girl.”

“And if neither sprout?” you asked, breaking your silence. “Then you are not with child,” your mother answered. You saw Yeosang’s shoulders visibly relax and he turned to look at you, giving you a small smile. “It’s worth a try,” he said softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You nodded in agreement.

“Just to be sure,” you stated to which both your mother and Yeosang nodded.

The next day, Yeosang managed to secure the seeds and buried them behind the house, marking their placement so you would be able to find them even at night. Each time you went out to do your business, your cheeks burned, although you knew no one was watching.

And each time, you returned to the house feeling more embarrassed than before and returned to the bedroom. Over the next few days, you continued to go outside to urinate over the spot where the seeds had been planted and your mother came by to help you with your daily chores. She insisted you rested and while she did your tasks before leaving to head home and prepare dinner for your father.

You ignored Yeosang’s insistence to stay in bed and got up to finish dinner. As you were checking the potatoes in the stew, there was a knock on the door. Yeosang answered it and you kept your head down as he let the visiting priests enter the house. It went from two to seven and soon your modest house was crowded.

Thankfully, there were extra chairs for the table in the second bedroom and Yeosang had the foresight to pull them out before and set the table up in the living room. He cleared his throat and crossed the living room to peer into the kitchen where you stood by the hearth.

“They’re here,” he said softly and beckoned you over. You shook your head. “Oh, no, it’s alright,” you said softly, waving your hand. “I’ll just serve them dinner and stay in here while you meet with them.” Yeosang glanced back before entering the kitchen and crossed the room to where you stood. He placed a hand on your waist, the other moving to tilt your head back to look at him. “I invited them here to meet you,” he explained.

“They want to meet you.”

Your eyes widened as you stared back at him. “They do?” Yeosang nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Of course,” he said softly, leaning into nuzzle his nose against yours in a display of affection before he placed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“So come out here and meet them, love.”

You placed the wooden ladle down, wiping your hands and smoothing down your apron. Yeosang took your hand and led you towards the door and into the living room. There were five men sitting around the table, a couple of them chatting amongst themselves.

When you entered with Yeosang, they all looked up in mild surprise. Your cheeks grew warm under their gazes as they watched you with your husband. “These are the visiting priests from the nearby villages,” Yeosang explained, gesturing at the group.

He gestured at the closest one, a man with cat-like eyes and broad shoulders. Even sitting down, you could tell this man was tall. He had hair like fire, a yellow that faded into fiery orange at the ends. “This is Song Mingi, he knows a lot about witches and sorcerers.”

Mingi nodded his head, bowing in a sign of respect, a gesture you returned. Next to him was a man who despite the thick black robes he wore you could tell was muscular and strong. He had dark brown, almost black hair, and gave you a small smile when your eyes met. “Choi Jongho, the youngest of his order and has performed a record number of exorcisms.”

Beside Jongho was a much slimmer looking man with bright red hair that took you by surprise. “Jung Wooyoung,” Yeosang said, as your gaze passed over him. “He travels the countryside with his partner,” he explained, gesturing to the man sitting on the other side of Wooyoung. You nodded and felt your cheeks burn as Wooyoung smiled and sent you a wink. The man beside him, his partner, elbowed him harshly.

Either your husband didn’t notice or chose not to address the wink, for he moved on. “Choi San,” he said and the man who had elbowed Wooyoung gave you a warm smile, his black hair shorter than Mingi’s but cut the same as Wooyoung’s and pushed back off his forehead.

“San is a demon hunter,” Yeosang explained. Sitting beside San was the last priest. “This is Jeong Yunho,” Yeosang introduced. “He has experience performing exorcisms and banishing rituals. He was the first to arrive,” Yeosang said, reminding you of the morning after your wedding night.

You smiled politely, bowing your head. “It’s nice to meet you, Misses,” Yunho said politely with a sweet smile. “This is Y/N,” Yeosang said, gesturing towards you. “My wife.”

There was a low chorus of greetings passed around by your guests and you returned them with as much politeness and grace as you could muster. You looked up at Yeosang and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I’ll go get the stew,” you explained.

“Let me help,” he said, turning to follow but you waved your hand, urging him to take his seat. The last thing you wanted was him to appear as anything other than the man of the house before your visitors and so you returned to the kitchen, grabbing a cloth to protect your hand as you grabbed the handle of the hot pot hanging over the hearth and the wooden ladle.

Your mother had already set the table, bowls, plates, and cups set for each person. Yeosang had filled the cups and pieces of bread were already set on the plates as you moved to place the pot on the table. It was much heavier than you initially thought, as you made more than you usually did.

Noticing your struggle, Mingi got up to help you and despite your protests, he took the heavy pot and set it on the table. You thanked him profusely and started to spoon a helping of stew into each bowl, serving your husband after each guest and before picking up the now much lighter pot.

“What about you?” you heard a voice ask and turned to find six pairs of eyes on you. With a smile you bowed your head. “I don’t want to get in the way,” you answered. “I will just eat in the kitchen and stay out of your way.” Yeosang’s expression fell but as he moved to get up, Wooyoung beat him to it, rounding the table and grabbing the pot from you.

You followed him, trying to take it back but he gently nudged you back and spooned a helping into the seventh bowl before setting the pot in the middle of the table, took your hand and placed a gentle hand on your back, guiding you to the spot between your husband and San.

“Sit,” he simply said and moved back to his own seat. You glanced around at the table before your eyes settled on your husband and he nodded towards the chair beside him. “The cook should not be confined to the kitchen,” San added, gesturing for you to sit and after a moment, you took your seat, thanking them as Yeosang tried to fill your cup but you declined.

The smell of the ale was enough to make your stomach churn and you didn’t want to get sick before you ate. You stared at the stew while those around you ate and enjoyed the meal. You grabbed the wooden spoon next to your bowl but as you stared at the meat and potatoes, you couldn’t fathom even taking a bite, your stomach churning as the mere thought of eating made you sick beyond belief.

“Yeosang tells us you’re familiar with the demon,” a voice drew you out of your stupor and you looked up, meeting the gaze of Yunho who sat across from you. You glanced to your left, where your husband sat. He looked up to meet your gaze and nodded encouragingly.

“It’s alright,” he said softly. “You can tell them. Whatever is said here will not leave this house.”

You set the spoon down and took a deep breath before starting.

“I am. In life, he was my…” you trailed off, glancing at Yeosang, uncertain of how to continue. “Go on, love,” he urged. “Just tell them.” You glanced back at Yunho, who was watching you curiously. “He was my previous lover,” you finally said.

A silence fell over the table. “Your lover?” San asked from your right. You turned him and nodded. “Yes,” you answered. “He lived in a cabin in the forest by himself. His great grandfather built the cabin for his pregnant wife and all generations of Hongjoong’s family have lived there. It’s where Hongjoong was born.”

“So he wasn’t a member of the community, then?” Mingi asked, to which you shook your head. “No,” you replied. “He lived outside our community, outside our… rules.” Mingi sat back, arms crossed over his chest and you noticed he’d already finished his bowl.

“If you’re still hungry, please,” you added, gesturing to the pot with a smile. A small smile spread over Mingi’s face before he thanked you and helped himself to more stew. “Please,” San said. “Continue.”

You went on, explaining how you met Hongjoong when you were around 12 years old and that the two of you never really interacted except when he came to the village with his family. You went on to tell them how you met again when he was 17 and his mother had just passed and then again when he was 18 and his father passed, leaving him alone.

You explained the story of your friendship that grew into romance and how you fell in love with Hongjoong. As you told the story, you could see various looks on the faces of your guests ranging from concentration to adoration. It occurred to you that this was the first time you were telling this story in front of Yeosang and he was listening with rapt attention.

As you concluded that part of the story, Jongho spoke up.

“How did he become a demon? Surely someone who lived as you have described doesn’t just turn into a demon overnight,” he said. He’d removed his robe at some point and under it he wore a black fitted jacket and black pants.

You shook your head. “I don’t pretend to know the details,” you said softly. “He explained to me what he could remember. He said he remembered suffocating and being surrounded by darkness. He also recalled an intense burning pain and this awful laughter. He said it felt like he was being tortured for thousands of years and then he came to.”

Wooyoung finally spoke up, his chin resting in his hand. “He woke up in the grave the villagers buried him in and freed himself?” he asked. You turned to him, peering around San, and nodded. “That’s what he said. He broke out of the coffin and clawed his way out of the grave.”

A few sets of eyes turned to look at your husband who confirmed your story. “When Y/N came to after taking ill, she told Jonas and I of this and I was immediately sent to check the grave and it was indeed disturbed. We then had it dug up and found the coffin empty, the top of it caved in,” he added. “We knew then that Hongjoong had risen from his grave.”

“What happened after he got out?” Mingi asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “He must have come straight back to the cabin,” you replied. “I was already there. I ran away from my parents house after…” you hesitated, glancing at Yeosang who gave you a quizzical look. You looked away and continued.

“After my father hit me and told me what he and the other villagers had done. They’d killed Hongjoong.” You could see Yeosang visibly tense next to you but pressed on, deciding not to address it right then.

“So Hongjoong returned to the cabin and I helped him clean up and we… got intimate,” you said, cheeks burning under the gaze of six priests hanging onto your every word. “The next morning, I thought I had dreamt the whole thing but then Hongjoong appeared and I knew it wasn’t a dream. I thought that maybe the universe had sent him back because it wasn’t his time. I thought he’d been given a second chance but then he started to… change.”

“How did he change?” Yunho inquired. You looked up at him. “He started to get… ravenous? I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. But it was like… he couldn’t get enough. Like his appetite couldn’t be satiated.”

“By appetite you mean his sexual desire?” San asked, tilting his head. You refused to meet his gaze, instead staring intently at the table, studying the pattern of the wood grain and nodded. “Yes,” you replied. “He soon started to lose control of himself. Almost like he was slipping and the demon was starting to take over. He would physically change, too. His eyes, his voice, the burn marks on his body.”

You hesitated, taking a deep breath. “One morning, I woke up to find the cabin empty so I went looking for him and found him by the stream in the forest. When I approached, he told me to stay away and when I didn’t listen, he lashed out at me. He ran and I tried to follow but I lost him in the forest so I went back to the cabin and waited for him to return.”

“And did he?” Wooyoung asked. You nodded wordlessly. “But he lost control again and I think this is when the demon finally took hold. He tried to attack me and so I ran back to the village where I ran into Yeosang. Since then, Hongjoong has been terrorizing the village and killing not only the livestock but also the daughters of the men who killed him. I’m the only one left now.”

You concluded your story to silence. Yeosang took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You glanced up, resisting the urge to burst into tears. He gave you a comforting smile as the rest of your guests processed your story. “Thank you for telling us your story,” Yunho finally said.

“Can I ask you something?” San inquired, drawing yours and Yeosang’s attention. “Of course,” Yeosang answered. “If Hongjoong was your lover,” he started, addressing you before looking up at Yeosang. “How did she end up marrying you?”

“Before Hongjoong’s death,” Yeosang started to explain. “Her father had come to me, asking me if I would consider marrying Y/N. His fear with Hongjoong being blamed for the village’s misfortunes, his relationship with Y/N might paint her as a target,” he continued.

“So he wanted to distance his family from that and save their reputation.” You felt your stomach churn as Yeosang spoke. “If it had been anyone else, I would have said no,” Yeosang continued, making you look up at him.

“I said yes because while I wanted to protect Y/N, another part of me had already grown quite fond of her and I would be lying if I said that part of me didn’t already love her.”

Your breath caught in your throat, heart skipping a beat as you stared at your husband. His eyes met yours and you suddenly understood, words from your wedding night replaying in your head. ‘I’ve always been yours.’

You tore your gaze from his, staring down at your uneaten stew.

“I see,” San answered softly. “So after Hongjoong’s death and Y/N came back,” Wooyoung started only for Yeosang to finish. “When Hongjoong was taken from the church and dragged to the tree, Y/N learned what happened and she ran away. I suppose her father decided that the agreement between us was no longer necessary since she was no longer in the village. No one expected her to come back. When she did, her father tried to reinstate the agreement but Y/N was in no state to marry anyone. She was catatonic, unresponsive —”

“An empty shell,” you interrupted, your voice soft. You could feel six pairs of eyes turn towards you. “What?” you heard Wooyoung ask. “An empty shell,” you repeated, a little louder. “When I came back, I honestly don’t even remember much. I remember running through the woods and I barely remember running into Yeosang and then after that, everything was just a blur. I don’t even know how long I was like that.”

“Sixteen days,” Yeosang answered. He looked up as you turned to look at him. “You were catatonic for thirteen and got sick. You were at death’s door for three days. Sixteen days total.”

A silence fell over the table as you and your husband looked at one another, a moment of understanding passing over you. “And then?” San asked, breaking the silence. Yeosang reluctantly tore his gaze away from you.

“And then, she woke up. She came back from the brink of death. Her mother nursed her back to health and when she was able to stay awake, Jonas and I came to get her account of the events that happened before she came back. She told us everything. Jonas left no stone unturned and you told him everything,” he said, addressing you at the end.

“Truth be told, I don’t think I could have told him everything if you weren’t there,” you admitted. “Jonas terrifies me.”

A look of confusion crossed Yeosang’s face but before he could ask you why, Yunho spoke up. “Now that we know all of this, we need to devise a plan of attack,” he said, earning a few murmurs of agreement from around the table. Yeosang glanced at your bowl and gestured for you to eat before he turned to join the conversation.

“I have to agree with you,” Jongho answered from beside Yunho. “The longer we sit around and do nothing, the more danger the village is in. “The more danger Y/N is in,” San added, looking at you as you finally took a bite of the stew which had since grown cold.

“So what do you suggest?” Wooyoung asked, looking at Yunho. “We could always try to exorcize the demon from Hongjoong?” Yunho suggested, turning to look at Yeosang who contemplated. Jongo spoke up again. “If Hongjoong’s soul is still intact, that could work but in exorcizing the demon, he could just be killed.”

“He’s already dead,” Wooyoung reminded him. “We don’t even know if his soul is in his body.”

You set your spoon down, a little harder than you meant to, drawing the attention of everyone in the room as you turned to look at the red-haired man. “His soul is in his body,” you said simply. Wooyoung and San exchanged worried looks before San turned to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“We know you want to believe that, Y/N, but the chances are —”

“His soul is in his body,” you snapped. “Y/N,” Wooyoung tried to intervene but Yeosang held his hand up. “Let her speak,” he interjected.

“When he died, Hongjoong told me how he fell into darkness and felt like he was tortured for thousands of years,” you said, looking around at each one of the priests. “He also spoke of fire, brimstone, and burning. I think that maybe, his soul was sent to hell and when it came back it wasn’t because of his own determination. It was because something came back with him,” you explained.

“Something not human.”

Several of the priests exchanged worried looks. “You think a demon latched onto his soul and came back with him and is now inhabiting his body?” Yeosang asked, making sure to clarify what you just shared. You nodded slowly. “And I think, if you try to exorcize the demon, it will pull his own soul out as well.”

Yeosang let out a sigh. “That could be possible,” Yunho said softly, looking at Wooyoung who seemed to be deep in thought. “Then an exorcism is off the table,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “There’s no way around that. If a demon is bound to his soul, there’s no way to save him.”

San elbowed Wooyoung before glancing at you. Giving him a warm smile you spoke softly. “It’s alright,” you said. “I know what needs to be done and I know that it’s not the same Hongjoong. There is no going back. Not that I would want to, anyway.”

You glanced at Yeosang whose expressions softened and he took your hand gently. “So then we must banish the demon,” Jongho stated. It wasn’t a question. The rest of the table nodded in agreement before Yunho turned his head to look at Mingi.

“What can you tell us about witches and their connections to demons?”

Mingi looked surprised at being addressed directly and took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“Witches are thought to be in league with Satan,” he started, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table before him, his fingers interlaced as he stared at his hands. “But that’s only partially true. Just as there is light and dark in the world, this dichotomy exists in humans and by extension, witches.”

Mingi cleared his throat before continuing.

“There are light witches, those who use their magic and powers for the good of humanity. They tend to draw their powers from nature and the world around them. It is a good and pure form of magic. They use it for growing and healing. Dark witches, on the other hand, draw their power from a darker source, usually from making a deal with a demon or by blood sacrifices. The most common form of sacrifice is that of a child or infant,” he continued.

“But animal sacrifices can also be made in lieu of a human.”

Your eyes widened as he spoke, recalling all the livestock that had been killed prior to Hongjoong’s death and the killings that continued. Whether or not the new ones were the work of the true witch or Hongjoong, you couldn’t be sure.

“The witch will offer a blood sacrifice to a summoned demon in exchange for powers far beyond the natural world. These powers can cause a wide variety of misfortunes should the witch place a curse. Crops can go bad, people can become sick, and demons can be summoned,” Mingi added.

“So Hongjoong was not one of these?” San asked, turning to look at Yeosang who nodded. “He was not,” you answered. “He used his magic for healing and growing. He had gardens that he used his magic on. Or whenever he found a hurt animal, he would heal it. He never consorted with the devil or killed anything unless it was for food.”

San nodded, accepting your answer before returning his attention to Mingi. “So then why would Hongjoong come back as a demon?” he asked. Mingi inhaled slowly before answering. “There are a number of reasons. Perhaps the villagers turning on him was part of the dark witch’s plan. Perhaps a curse was placed to make the villagers do so. If Hongjoong had a curse on him, it would explain why he not only came back but why his soul went to hell and a demon latched onto him. Perhaps…” Mingi trailed off, his focus shifting to you.

The others turned to follow his gaze as your eyes widened in realization.

“It was Hongjoong…” you whispered. Yeosang placed a hand on your back, leaning in closer. “Love? What is it?”

You looked back at Mingi. “It was Hongjoong!” you repeated louder. “Hongjoong was the human sacrifice!”

A look of realization drew over the faces of all six priests. “The witch used the animal sacrifices to create disturbances, turning the villagers against the one they perceived to be a threat to their lives,” Mingi explained sitting up. “The witch used the villagers’ hatred for Hongjoong against him, making them kill him for them to complete some kind of sacrificial ritual.”

San and Wooyoung exchanged looks as Yunho’s lips parted in shock. “And the ritual is now complete,” Jongho said softly as he looked at the table. “But what was the goal?” Yeosang asked, looking around. “What could the witch possibly gain by doing this?”

The wheels in your head were turning and you stood up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table and making a few of the priests jump. “The demon!” you all but shouted. “What if the demon is one the dark witch made a pact with?” Mingi’s eyes narrowed, brows knitting together until it clicked for him.

“The demon needed a body,” Mingi said quickly. “They made a pact. The witch would get their powers if they provided a human sacrifice in the form of a human body for them to inhabit! A binding ritual, of course!” Mingi hissed, hitting the table with his fist.

“A binding ritual?” Yeosang asked. “Is there any way to undo that?”

Mingi shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”

Yunho also shook his head. “No,” he answered. “The only thing that can be done is to banish the demon.” Yeosang nodded, taking your hand without giving you a glance. “And how do we do that?” he asked.

“With a demon who has inhabited the body of a dead person, there’s only one way,” Yunho explained. “Bind the body of the possessed with a ritual, perform a banishing ritual and —” he stopped, turning his gaze towards you. “And removing the head of the possessed.”

You didn’t need to look up to know that all eyes were on you. “But before we get to any of that,” Wooyoung interjected. “We must first draw him out.” San nodded as his partner spoke. “And exactly how do we do that?” Yeosang asked, looking from San to Wooyoung.

“By offering the demon the thing it wants most,” Yunho answered.

You looked up, noticing the eyes that fell on you once more.

“No.”

You turned to look at Yeosang who was shaking his head. “Absolutely not. We’re not using my wife as bait.”

You turned your body to face him and reached out to place your hand on his cheek, turning his head to face you. “We don’t have a choice,” you told him. “If we’re going to save the people of this village, we have to do this.”

“No!” Yeosang shouted, pushing his chair back and getting up from the table. You threw an apologetic glance at the table and got up, following Yeosang to the kitchen, shutting the door behind you. He stood by the hearth, one hand covering his mouth as he stared at the fire.

You approached him slowly, taking note of the way he tried to hide his face from you. “Yeosang,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm. He shook his head, turning away from you. “No,” he said, his voice breaking. You grabbed his arm and turned him to face you.

His eyes were shining with unshed tears. “I’m not putting you in danger,” he finally said, shaking his head. You took his face in your hands and held him still. “If we don’t do something, the village will be in danger. Hongjoong will not stop until he’s killed or has killed me.”

Yeosang pulled you closer. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered. You pulled him into a tight embrace. “I know it’s terrifying,” you said in a soft, soothing voice. “But with six priests protecting me, I think I’ll be alright.”

Yeosang tightened his hold, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice muffled. “You won’t,” you replied, stroking his hair gently. “We’re going to overcome this,” you continued. “Hongjoong must be stopped and if this is the only way to do so, I will gladly help.”

Yeosang pulled back, cheeks wet to look at you through watery eyes. “And what if you do die?” he asked. “What then?” You held his face carefully as you looked into his eyes. “Then it will have been to protect the people of this village and you. I can die knowing I tried my best.”

Yeosang’s hands moved, taking your wrists and pulling your hands away from his face. “I couldn’t live with myself if you died,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t want to live without you.” You pulled a hand free and pressed your fingers to his lips, shushing him gently. “We don’t even know for certain if I’ll die. Let’s talk with the others and I’m sure we can come up with a plan that keeps me safe while also drawing Hongjoong out, okay?”

Yeosang fell silent, cupping the side of your face and rubbing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “Okay,” he finally said hoarsely. You pulled him into a kiss, taking care to wipe away his tears. “I’m going to be fine, darling,” you said softly.

Yeosang opened his mouth to answer when a distant scream rang out. His expression shifted in an instant and he turned his head in the direction of the scream. “What was that?” you asked softly. Yeosang took your hand and led you back to the living room where the priests had gotten up from the table and walked over to the door.

Mingi opened it and stood in the doorway, peering out into the darkness. Another scream rang out followed by a chorus of yells. “A house is on fire!” he announced, taking off into the night. San, Wooyoung, and Jongho followed as Yunho got up from the table and walked over quickly.

You followed your husband to the door and as you stared into the distance you realized the house the third from the forest was ablaze. Your heart sank as your stomach churned. “That’s my parents’ house!” you gasped, trying to run out into the night but Yeosang grabbed you and pulled you back into the house. “No!” he said as he shut the door.

You tried to fight against him but he held you still. “Hongjoong could be out there. Stay inside this house and do not come out for anything. I will go.” You tried to protest but he held your face, staring into your eyes. “Please, Y/N. Please just stay here.”

You stared at him for a moment and decided he was right, conceding. “Fine,” you answered. “But please hurry! Make sure my parents are alright!” Yeosang pressed a kiss to your lips before he rushed the door, throwing it open and running outside. You moved to the door, peering out before shutting it and stepping back towards the table.

Footsteps pounded against the ground as Yeosang followed the others towards your parents house. The rest of the village had gathered, some shouting for help while others helped hold people back at a safe distance. Yeosang’s eyes scanned the crowd and relief washed over him as he saw your parents in the crowd, staring up at the house that was now engulfed in flames.

Yeosang squeezed through the crowd as he made his way over. Your mother’s tear stained face turned as he approached and she could only cry softly while your father stared up at the blaze with a dumbfounded look. “Are you alright?” Yeosang asked softly.

Your mother nodded. “We made it out okay,” she admitted. “But…” she looked up at the inferno. “We’ve lost everything.” Yeosang felt his stomach churn. He had an extra room in his house, he could offer it to your parents but he would of course wish to speak to you before he made any decisions as it was as much your house as it was his.

Before he could say anything, one of the neighbors nearby moved, wrapping an arm around your mother’s shoulders. “You are more than welcome to stay with us for the time being. We have plenty of room.” Your mother thanked her profusely and Yeosang sent the woman a knowing look, thanking her silently.

Yeosang turned and walked back to where the priests were huddled, Yunho and Mingi breathing heavily while Wooyoung and San were whispering to one another and Jongho studied the burning house. Yeosang noticed the smears of soot on both Yunho and Mingi, asking what happened.

“The burst into the house,” Jongho answered without taking his eyes off the fire, the dancing flames reflecting in his eyes. “They were able to get your in-law’s out along with some of their important artifacts…” Yunho gave Jongho a peculiar look.

“Artifacts,” he muttered as he stood up straight, waving Mingi away as the latter attempted to brush soot off his clothes, and moved towards Yeosang. “The fire started upstairs,” Yunho said in a low voice. “When we went in, it was just the entire upstairs that was in flames.”

Yeosang looked up at him, eyes wide. “Upstairs?” he whispered. “Seems odd, does it not?” Yunho asked, looking from the fire to Yeosang. “For a fire to start upstairs and move down?” Yeosang nodded, turning to look at the house. “Very odd indeed.”

After the crowd dispersed with only a few remaining behind to make sure the fire didn’t spread, Yeosang walked with the priests back towards the church, bidding them goodnight before returning to his own home.

He turned the knob, exhaustion taking over his mind as he opened the door. He knew you were waiting for news and he would give it to you without hesitation. As he entered, he saw you sitting at the table. You looked up as he entered.

“Are my parents okay?” you asked as Yeosang closed the door behind Yunho and turned to you. “Yes,” he answered. “They’re staying with a neighbor. They’re fine, just in shock.” Yeosang walked over to the table and took a seat, sighing as you sat down next to him.

“What happened?” you inquired. Yeosang raised his head and met your gaze. “I think the demon set fire to your house in an attempt to lure you out,” he said. You stared at him, a look of confusion etched onto your face. “But I don’t live there anymore,” you replied.

Yeosang nodded and sighed again, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think he knows that,” he explained. “Hongjoong must have thought you were still at your parents’ house which means he doesn’t know you’ve left or that we’re married.” You fell silent, looking down at the table before back up at your husband.

“You could have easily been in that house,” he continued. “And the moment you left the house to escape the fire, he would have snatched you.” You swallowed thickly. “You cannot let your guard down until he has been dealt with.” You nodded, taking Yeosang’s hand.

“So we will deal with him. Let me join this plan. Yeosang pulled his hand from yours, getting up from his seat, and started to walk towards the kitchen. You got up, following him. “Y/N, no,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

You followed him as he entered the bedroom and sat down on the bed to remove his boots. “It will be dangerous for me until he’s gone,” you answered. “Until he is dead, I will always be in danger. What if he learns that I am here? How long until he tries to lure me out of the house and kill me?”

Yeosang looked up at you, exhaustion present on his face. You placed your hand on the back of his head and pulled him closer, resting his head against your stomach. His arms encircled you, holding your close. “What if I’m pregnant?” you whispered.

Yeosang opened his eyes, leaning back to look up at you.

“You think he would spare me? Never. We’re not just doing this for the village,” you continued. “We’re doing this for us. For our future.” You placed a hand on Yeosang’s chest, pushing him back against the mattress as you climbed onto the bed and over him.

“I want a future with you, Yeosang,” you continued, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. He tried to follow as you pulled back. “I want to have your children,” you added, kissing him again. “But we have to safeguard our future and the only way to do that is to kill the demon.”

Yeosang placed a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you into a much more passionate kiss before rolling you onto your back and pinning you underneath him. “If we do this,” he said once he broke apart from you. “Then you have to promise me that no matter what, you will listen to and do as I say.” You reached up to stroke his cheek, thumb tracing over the red mark near his eye.

“Of course,” you replied. “Promise me, Y/N,” Yeosang said, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, watching as you pressed a delicate kiss to the pad of his thumb. “I promise,” you whispered, looking up at him with expectant eyes. “Say all of it,” Yeosang ordered, his hand sliding down your neck to your chest, pausing before sliding down past your navel and pulling your skirt up slowly.

You stared up at him with wide eyes as his hand ducked under your skirt to find your already slick center. “Say that you will do everything I say.” You let out a small gasp as his fingers started to work your clit slowly.

“I—I will! I will listen to you and do whatever you say,” you replied, thighs spreading as Yeosang’s fingers dipped lower, finding your hole and gliding into you, slowly pumping in and out of you. “I promise!” you concluded, back arching as he curled his fingers.

Yeosang wasted no time, peeling your clothes off one layer at a time until he had you bare under him, removing his own shirt and pants before moving between your hips. He was in no mood for lengthy foreplay as he guided the head of his cock to your aching hole and pushed into you, slowly, until he bottomed out with a deep groan.

Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist as he began to rock into you, the tip of his cock hitting deep inside you, your nails scratching at his back as moans slipped past your lips, mixing with Yeosang’s name like a mantra.

“Yeosang, I—” you started but he pressed his fingers against your lips. “It’s okay,” he said breathily. “I know. Just let go for me, sweetheart. Give into it.” Your eyelids fluttered shut as you allowed the feeling of your physical connection take over, a warm sensation building inside you. You felt a prickling in the corners of your eyes as tears threatened to spill.

You opened your eyes, blinking away the tears to look up at your husband only to find him already looking at you, eyes searching your face. He slowed his motions, reaching up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped.

“What is it?” he asked softly. “Have I hurt you?”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down, burying your face in his neck. “I’m fine,” you sobbed softly. “Please, don’t stop.” Yeosang hesitated, stilling inside you as you cried softly.

Instead of resuming, he held you, arms secure as he let you cry. “It’s all right, love,” he whispered. “Let it out.” Your cries grew harder, muffled by his shoulder as he rolled you both onto your sides and stroked up and down your spine soothingly.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered into your ear. “What’s bothering you?”

You shook your head, pulling back and trying to wipe your tears away but he beat you to it, taking your face in his hands. He carefully wiped your cheeks and under your eyes before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I’m alright,” you said softly, sniffling. “I was just overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?” Yeosang asked, letting out a soft chuckle when you nodded. “I wasn’t expecting to open my eyes and find you looking at me like that,” you replied. Yeosang stroked your cheek gently, a smile on his face. “Like what?” he asked.

“With so much… Love,” you answered. Yeosang let out another low chuckle before leaning in to kiss you again. “Well, why wouldn’t I look at you like that?” he asked, rolling the two of you over so you were on your back against the mattress.

You opened your mouth to respond but only a moan came out as you felt him push back into you, setting a slow pace that gradually picked up again until he was thrusting into you just as he was before your emotional outburst, leaving you breathless.

“M-more,” you mumbled. “More?” Yeosang asked, breathlessly as he stared down at you. You nodded quickly. “I can take it. H-harder.” Yeosang let out a sound that you could have mistaken for a laugh but all the same, he obliged you, thrusting into you hard but at the same pace as before.

Your walls contracted around him as your moans raised in pitch, bordering on cries of pleasure. Yeosang slid an arm under you, cradling your head as he rested his forehead against yours. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep going,” he admitted.

You moved quickly, pushing him as you rolled him over, settling on top of him without his cock slipping out of you. You took over, keeping the same pace as his hands moved to your thighs. You resisted the urge to giggle as Yeosang let out a string of curses as your hips rose and fell, his cock sinking into your cunt repeatedly.

“That’s not very becoming of a priest,” you joked, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. You felt one of his hands move up your back before grabbing the back of your neck. “I don’t fucking care,” he hissed, pulling you in for a passionate but sloppy kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth and muffling his own moans of pleasure.

You broke the kiss after a moment, needing to breathe, and rested your forehead against his as he grabbed your hips, thrusting up to meet you, matching your pace. The sudden intense movement had you gasping, fingers curling into the sheets under your husband as your climax drew closer and closer, rapidly

You felt him tremble under you, signaling he was close to his own climax. Your walls fluttered around him as he let out another slew of curses, ranging from “oh fuck” and “shit.” Praises slipped out of his mouth between moans of your name. Your head rested against his shoulder, letting him take over and guide your hips down to meet his as he thrust into you passionately.

“Oh fuck, I love you,” he gasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of his skin slapping against yours, the bed creaking under your bodies. His confession spurred you on, pushing you over the edge of passion and you came unexpectedly with a whine, fingers curling into his hair as his hips continued to move, driving his cock repeatedly into you as he chased his own high. “I love you, too,” you panted, pulling back to look down at him, meeting his gaze. “So, so much,” you added.

Yeosang’s eyes fluttered shut as his orgasm rolled over him, his hot cum filling you as his hips thrusted a few more times, making sure he emptied everything into you. “I love you so much, Yeosang,” you repeated, pulling him into a messy kiss, your tongues dancing together. He pulled back slightly, caressing your cheek. “I love you more than all the stars in the sky,” he whispered. You felt a small sob build in your chest but held it back.

“I have never loved anyone as much as I love you,” Yeosang continued. “I will never love anyone as much as I love you. You’re my entire world.” You leaned down into a hug, burying your face in his shoulder and let out a soft cry.

Yeosang rolled onto his side, lowering you to the mattress. “Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t cry,” Yeosang whispered, gently lifting your head. “They’re not tears of sadness,” you admitted as he wiped said tears from your cheeks. “They’re tears of—”

“Joy?” Yeosang asked, his expression softening as he caressed your cheek. You nodded, leaning into his touch. “When you saved my life,” you started. “And stayed with me while I was on the brink of death, I realized something,” you said softly.

“What?” Yeosang asked, eyes studying your face. You looked up to meet his gaze. “That I’ve loved you for some time,” you replied. “I just didn’t realize it because I was so deeply connected to Hongjoong but there was always love in my heart for you.”

Yeosang couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “It just took me almost dying to see it,” you added with a dry laugh. “I have a confession of my own to make,” Yeosang said softly, drawing your attention as he continued to stroke your cheek.

“I’ve loved you since before everything that has happened. Since…” he trailed off, hesitating under your curious gaze. He swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing. “Since before Hongjoong’s death.”

A silence fell over the two of you and Yeosang feared he might have crossed a line but when you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, a smile crept onto your face. “I guess that makes two of us, then,” you whispered.

The following morning, you woke up early, getting dressed in silence as Yeosang lay tangled in the sheets. You exited the bedroom, shutting the door behind you and started to get started, making breakfast. After last night, you didn’t feel like going out to gather eggs or cook anything that would take too much time. You would rather just make something simple and get started on the day.

Today, Yeosang and the visiting priests were going to inform the village of the truth about the demon and Hongjoong’s return. The entire village was already aware of the demon’s existence but none knew that it was Hongjoong.

You heard the door behind you open and soft footsteps make their way towards you until you felt arms enveloping you as Yeosang wrapped you in his warm embrace. “I thought we might sleep in,” he murmured in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” you admitted as you stirred the contents of the pot. “So I thought I would just get up and start the day.” Yeosang hummed as he slowly started to sway, making you sway as well.

You placed a hand over your stomach as a nauseous feeling bubbled up. Yeosang noticed, placing his hand over yours. “Have you checked the seeds?” he asked softly to which you shook your head. “I’ve had more pressing matters,” you replied.

Yeosang pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “I’ll go check,” he whispered, pulling away and taking with him the warmth. You heard him move through the house, the front door opening and closing. In truth, you hadn’t wanted to check the seeds, for fear that one of them was growing which would mean you were pregnant and that was something you didn’t need at the moment.

You had enough going on.

Yeosang returned a couple moments later, shutting the door slowly and walked into the kitchen, stopping to lean against the doorframe, a look of shock on his face. You looked back at him, your expression morphing as you feared the worst. “What is it?” you asked.

Yeosang looked up to meet your gaze. The look in his eyes was all you needed to see for your heart to sink into your stomach. “No,” you whispered. Yeosang looked down and it was then you realized he had something in his hand. “What is that?” you whispered. He stood up straight and walked over, something clenched in his fist.

He looked up at you, a look somewhere between an apology and concern etched onto his face. “I know this is the last thing you need, but…” he said as he held out his closed fist. Your eyes traveled down to his hand as he opened it. Lying in his palm was a small seed with a tiny stalk sprouting from it.

Your mother’s voice popped into your head. ‘If the barley seeds sprout then it will be a boy. If the wheat seeds sprout, then you’ll be having a girl.’ You shook your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you looked up to meet Yeosang’s gaze.

“No. We… this can’t be happening…” you said, your breathing bordering on hyperventilating. Yeosang set the sprout onto the table and pulled you into a hug. “It’s going to be alright,” he said softly. “We’ll figure this out. I know the timing is wrong,” he continued. “But everything happens for a reason.”

You nodded slowly, letting out a sigh. “Look at me,” Yeosang said softly, tilting your head up. “We’ll face the things in front of us and once we’ve dealt with it, how about we leave? Go somewhere new and start over?” he asked. A small smile crept over your face.

“Really?” you asked quietly. Yeosang nodded, pressing a short kiss to your lips. “Of course,” he replied. “We can go anywhere you want. Another village, a larger town, the mountains, the sea,” he said, listing off different locations. “Wherever you want, my love, that’s where we’ll go. Start a new life for us and for them,” he added, moving a hand to your belly.

“For us.”

After finishing breakfast and getting dressed, you left the house with Yeosang, heading for the church to attend the meeting. Upon entering, you followed Yeosang to the front where the rest of the priests were already sitting, talking amongst themselves. As you approached, San and Wooyoung gave you warm smiles and greeted you.

Yeosang guided you to sit next to Yunho, leaving one seat for him. Instead of taking it right away, he excused himself to go find Jonas. “You look different this morning,” Yunho said softly. You turned to look at him and noticed the others looking at you.

“Do I?” you asked to which not only Yunho nodded, but so did Wooyoung, San, and Mingi. “Much different,” San noted as he exchanged a glance with Wooyoung. You hesitated to answer, wondering if they could tell the difference was due to you finding out about the child you were carrying.

Before you could answer, Yeosang returned with Jonas. Your husband gave you a smile as he followed the elder minister to the doors to open them and allow the villagers in. While Yeosang was preoccupied, Yunho glanced at the others before turning to you and lowering his voice. “It’s a good type of different,” he whispered before leaning up and giving you a smile before turning to speak to San next to him as the rows behind you filled with villagers.

Yeosang returned, taking his seat beside you and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You pulled your hand from his, locking your arm with his instead, giving you a sense of stability as you leaned into his side. Yeosang made no attempt to move for sake of propriety. He did not care what the others thought. All that mattered to him was your happiness and safety.

The villagers could think what they liked. You were his wife.

As the villagers took their seats, you looked around, noticing your parents a few rows back and sent them a smile, one they returned. Despite everything that had happened to them, you were glad they were still alive and safe.

The doors at the front of the church closed and Jonas walked down the middle aisle towards the stage, nodding at the members as he passed before he finally reached the pulpit and turned to face the congregation.

“I’ve called this meeting because Pastor Kang has requested to be able to speak with all of you on an urgent matter related to the demon plaguing our village,” he started. He turned his gaze to Yeosang and nodded, stepping down. Your husband stood up and you wrapped your arms around yourself as he walked up, stepping up to the pulpit.

“As you all already know, a demon has been terrorizing the village since the death of Hongjoong,” he started, ignoring the hisses at the mention of the name. “You might also be aware that I sent word to neighboring villages, asking for the help from their clergy and as a result, five priests have come to help conduct an investigation as well as potentially help banish the demon.”

Yeosang stopped, looking towards the front row as whispers rang out behind you. “We have come to learn after carefully investigating that the demon who haunts our village is Hongjoong, returned from the grave.”

There were several gasps and a new rush of whispers before Yeosang called for attention. “To explain further, I invite Pastor Jeong up here. He has experience with banishing demons and investigating their origins,” Yeosang said, gesturing at Yunho seat beside you. Yunho got up as Yeosang stepped down and returned to his seat.

Yunho took his place and murmured a greeting before starting his explanation.

“When Hongjoong was killed, his soul was sent to Hell,” he started. “Because he was a witch!” someone said and Yunho narrowed his eyes at the person who spoke. “No,” Yunho replied. “Not because he was a witch,” he continued. “But because the real witch made a deal with a demon in exchange for power.”

The congregation fell silent as Yunho’s words hung in the air. “I do not presume to know everything there was to know about Hongjoong, only what I’ve been told by someone who knew him very, very well,” he added, eyes glancing at you and giving you a warm smile.

“Nor do I pretend to know anything about witches or witchcraft as that is not my area of expertise and I will let Pastor Song speak on that in due time,” he continued. “What I know is that the demon the witch made a deal with was offered Hongjoong as a sacrifice and it took that. When Hongjoong was killed, the pact forced his soul to Hell where the demon latched onto him and came back to inhabit his body. This was the demon’s goal. It wanted a human body to inhabit so it could walk this Earth.”

You felt a chill run up your spine and shivered. Yeosang immediately wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “The only reason Hongjoong’s soul was allowed to even return in the first place is because of something known as a witch’s box. Again this is not my area of knowledge and I will let Mingi explain when it is his turn to speak, but what I do know is that by creating one of these boxes, it connects a witch’s soul to the earth so if they were to die by accident, they could come back. It is a means to cheat death, so to speak.”

“The demon took advantage of this, which was probably communicated by the real culprit who summoned the demon,” Yunho pressed on. “We believe that there is another witch, the one responsible for the misfortunes that have befallen your village. This witch made a deal with a demon in exchange for more power and offered Hongjoong’s soul and body in exchange of their own, since they likely knew Hongjoong was also a witch.”

“Who is the other witch?” a voice called out. “We do not know,” Yunho answered. “We don’t have that information yet.” This answer caused an uproar of discourse from the congregation. “How can you not know?!” one person shouted. Yunho looked overwhelmed by the sudden chorus of questions being hurled at him.

Yeosang stood up and turned to the crowd. “Dealing with the demon is much more important than dealing with the witch,” he said earnestly. “In time, we will uncover the true identity of this witch and see that they are brought to justice for their actions,” Yeosang said calmly.

“Who’s the witch!?”

“It could be any one of us!”

“It’s Y/N!”

Your eyes widened and you looked up at Yeosang in a panic as a look of pure anger crossed over his face. Before he could say anything, Jongho stood up, crossing to the pulpit, and motioned for Yunho to step down before stepping up.

“Pointing blame without any evidence to back up your claim will not only not help, but it will paint you as suspicious,” he sat calmly and clearly in a voice you had not expected to come from him. “Y/N is being actively pursued by the demon as it wants to kill her. She cannot possibly be the other witch. One more outburst of the sort and I will start taking names for a list of suspects.”

He then stepped down and returned to his seat as Yunho stepped up once more. Yeosang turned his gaze to Jongho and the two shared a look of understanding before he sat back down beside you, taking your arm in his as Yunho continued.

“As I was saying,” he started. “And as Pastor Kang has stated, we must deal with the demon first. This concludes what I know and I will now pass the torch, so to speak, to Pastor Song.” Yunho stepped down and walked back to his seat between you and San as Mingi got up and walked to the pulpit.

You watched as he paused briefly, looking at Jonas sitting against the back wall. He tilted his head as if he was studying the elder minister for a moment before he finally turned and stepped up into the pulpit to speak.

“Witchcraft,” he started. “Is not at all what you think it is. There are many types of magic in this world. The witchcraft of this witch that has been plaguing your village is what is known as dark magic. It is used to harm nature and people. It relies on blood sacrifices to work. Most dark witches use these sacrifices to make deals with demons in exchange for more power.”

“Light witches on the other hand,” he continued. “Rely on the natural world to create magic. They use their powers to heal and grow things. Which means,” Mingi said, pausing to look around at the villagers. “You killed the wrong witch.”

There was a silence that fell over the congregations before Mingi continued to speak.

“Hongjoong was a light witch, using his magic for good and the dark witch took advantage of this to use him as a bargaining chip to gain powers from the demonic entity that now inhabits Hongjoong’s body,” he added, taking his spectacles off.

“This dark witch used smaller animal sacrifices to create curses and disturbances within the village, turning you all against Hongjoong so you might eventually rise up and make him pay for the crimes you perceived as his. By killing Hongjoong, you completed the human sacrifice necessary for the dark witch’s deal to work. Giving the demon what it wanted and by extension, giving the witch what they wanted.”

He fell silent as he turned to look back at Jonas. You couldn’t understand the look between them but the way Jonas looked at Mingi made you feel uncomfortable, almost as if he was… mad at him for what he was saying. Jonas looked past Mingi, meeting your gaze and for the briefest moment, you could have sworn his eyes changed.

You let out the smallest of gasps, barely even audible but Yeosang heard you, as did Yunho. Your husband turned, leaning over to look at your face. “Love?” he whispered. “Are you alright?” You nodded slowly, eyes wide as you continued to hold Jonas’ gaze, afraid if you looked away, you would forget everything.

Jonas was the first to look away as Mingi stepped back, apparently having been done speaking. Next up was San and Wooyoung. Mingi returned to his seat beside Jongho and you kept your eyes on Jonas as the priest and demon hunter spoke, laying out their plans to lure the demon in, using you as bait.

Your attention waned as you stared at the elder minister, waiting to see if his eyes changed again but they did not and he did not look your direction again for the rest of the meeting. As San and Wooyoung wrapped up their part, several members of the congregation started asking questions. Yeosang stood up, joining San, Wooyoung, and Mingi on stage with Jongo with Yunho staying glued to your side. While they answered questions, Yunho leaned over.

“You saw something, didn’t you?” he asked softly so no one would hear. You nodded, keeping your eyes on Yeosang. “I think we saw the same thing,” Yunho continued. “We’ll talk about it after the meeting.”

As the questions wrapped up, the meeting ended and Jonas addressed the congregation one last time before dismissing them. The doors to outside opened as the priests returned to the bench you currently sat on, Yunho standing up. You stared at Jonas whose gaze swept over the crowd before finally meeting yours.

The moment your eyes locked, a wave of fear washed over you. Having been standing, waiting to exit the church, your knees went weak, legs giving out on you and you fell back onto your seat, letting out a gasp.

“Y/N?” Yeosang asked, worry laced in his voice. “What is it, love?” he asked. Your vision went unfocused as you tried to gain control of your breathing which had become rapid and unsteady. “Y/N?” Yunho asked, kneeling down before you. You felt one of his large hands take yours. “What is it?” he asked. “What do you see?”

“See?” Yeosang asked, his voice sounding far away. Within the blackness of your vision, you could see images of a hidden altar, line with animal bones and skulls. Blood stained the wood and a ceremonial knife sat nearby. Behind the altar, a hooded figure stood before a ring of candles on the floor, blood smeared in the middle into a crude sigil you’ve never seen before.

As the vision came, it went and your own vision returned, Yunho’s face coming back into view. “What did you see?” he asked softly. You looked up, searching for Jonas as he disappeared into the back hallway, the door shutting softly behind him. “I—” you hesitated. “I don’t…”

“Are you alright, love?” Yeosang asked, kneeling beside Yunho to look up at you, his face full of concern as he reached up to feel your cheek. “Air,” you gasped. “I need air.”

Yeosang stood up quickly, as did Yunho and they led you through the crowded church as more people spoke, trying to make sense of the information given to them. Outside only a few members had managed to make it down the steps. As Yeosang led the way to the door, the sky darkened. He looked up as he started down the steps. His eyes widened. Outside the church, littering the ground and amassed into a pile were what looked to be hundreds of corpses of crows.

Stand atop them was—

“It’s Hongjoong!” one person announced, turning tail and heading back into the church as others started to follow. Yeosang stood firm, blocking you from sight as the other priests also joined the line in front of the church. Hongjoong’s appearance had changed slightly. His hair was a little longer now and a slightly different color. Lighter now.

The horns protruding from his forehead had grown longer, starting to curve back over his head almost like a goats. His eyes were the same black with fiery, mismatched irises. He smiled a wicked smile, showing off his sharp canines as he hopped down from the pile of dead birds.

“Holding a village meeting without the guest of honor?” he asked as he approached Yeosang, a hint of amusement in his voice. He gestured at the other priests. “And I see you’ve already invited the entertainment,” he added with a chuckle.

“I take it this is the demon?” Yunho asked, turning his head to glance at Yeosang who nodded. Hongjoong looked up at Yunho. “Oh you’re a big one,” he said as he sauntered over. “Might be a little hard to digest,” he joked. As he turned, his eyes met yours and froze, the smile on his face widening. “Ah, there she is,” he said.

The priests closed in around you, shielding you from Hongjoong, making him look at them peculiarly. “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” he said, chuckling. “Relax,” I’m not about to try and kill her in front of an audience,” he added with a snicker as he started to walk in front of Yeosang and peered around at you from the other side. “As fun as it would be.”

“I tried to visit you,” he said, chuckling. “But you weren’t home. I even tried to… smoke you out,” he added with a chuckle. You felt your blood run cold but anger bubbled up inside you. You tried to step forward but Yunho grabbed your arm, keeping you still.

“You almost killed my parents!” you shouted angrily. Hongjoong made a mock look of sympathy. “Awww,” he cooed. “How unfortunate. I meant to kill them.” You tried again to lurch forward, all love you had felt for Hongjoong evaporating in an instant. “No, Y/N,” San whispered from beside you. “That’s what he wants.”

“Why weren’t you at your parents’ house, Y/N?” Hongjoong asked, drawing your attention away from the demon hunter. “Because I don’t live there anymore,” you answered simply. “I was with Yeosang.” Hongjoong’s eyes studied you as his smile fell, being replaced with a look of curiosity. His eyes shifted to look at Yeosang before he glanced down and noticed something, clicking his tongue before he looked up to look at you.

“I see. You married him.” It wasn’t a question. It was more of an accusation. “After everything you promised me?” Hongjoong asked. You resisted the urge to scoff, knowing it would probably just anger him. “Aren’t you trying to kill me?” you asked, changing the subject.

Hongjoong sighed. “Now why would I want to kill you?” he asked. “Why would I want to kill my guiding star? My little… Starlight?” A chill ran up your spine. “Don’t call me that,” you snapped. Hongjoong laughed loudly. “Why not? Strike a nerve?” he asked. “Does it remind you of our love?”

“Love?” you asked. “You died, remember? The rope snapped your neck. The Hongjoong I knew and loved died that day.” The demon chuckled again. “The rope didn’t snap my neck, Stella,” Hongjoong said, using another nickname. “I said don’t call me that,” you snapped.

He ignored your words and continued. “He suffocated,” the demon said, its voice masking Hongjoong’s. “He hung from that branch, struggling and kicking for minutes as he was strangled. Until the breath left his lungs and the life left his weak, defenseless body!” Yeosang moved to block you from sight.

“Stop it,” he said. Hongjoong glared at Yeosang before he spoke again. “You want to know what his dying thought was?” he asked, raising his voice slightly. Yeosang glared back at the demon. “Don’t,” he warned. “It was of you,” Hongjoong said. “Of the night you gave yourself to him for the first time.” San started forward but Jongho put a hand on his chest, pushing him back in line.

“That was a night he thought about often,” the demon continued. “He loved you so much. And this is how you repay his love?” it asked, looking at Yeosang. “By marrying this… priest?” he spat. Hongjoong peered around Yeosang to meet your gaze, noticing the tears in your eyes. “I’ve thought about it, Y/N,” he started. “Long and hard and I’ve decided something.”

He glanced at the sky before speaking. “I don’t want to kill you,” he explained. “I’ve changed my mind. Instead, I want you.” A shiver ran through your body at his words. “For what?” Yunho asked, drawing the demon’s attention briefly. “For myself of course. I’d like to keep such a succulent little morsel like her nearby. So I can ravage her whenever I want —”

“You will not touch her!” Yeosang interjected as you pressed into his back, hiding from view. Hongjoong let out a sigh. “Tell you what, Y/N,” he said, raising his voice. “I will give you three days. Three days to come to me on your own,” he continued. You felt Yeosang’s hand grab yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

You peeked over Yeosang’s shoulder to watch as Hongjoong walked back to the pile of birds, climbing up to the peak and turning around to face the church. “And if in three days, you still haven’t come to me, I will kill every single man, woman, and child in this village,” he added, ignoring the gasps of the villagers.

“Starting with your new husband.”

Your knees threatened to give out as Hongjoong vanished in a cloud of black mist. The sound returned to the area and immediately the villagers started to protest. “Get her home,” Yunho said in a low tone to Yeosang and the priests attempted to hold the crowd back as they demanded to hand you over to Hongjoong. Yeosang wrapped an arm around you, guiding you away from the church and back to the house with San and Wooyoung in tow for additional protection.

For a brief moment, you considered doing it but Yeosang reminded you of the plan already set in motion and that the demon would most likely kill you anyway.

“I’m not leaving the fate of my wife and unborn child up to fate,” Yeosang said as Yunho finally filed into the house behind Mingi and Jongho. “You’re pregnant?” San asked, turning quickly to look at you. You glanced at your husband briefly before nodding. “We just found out this morning before the meeting,” you admitted.

“I knew there was something different about you,” Yunho said as he moved to sit beside you.

“So,” San asked, turning to look at Yeosang. “What’s the plan? Do we proceed?”

“Yes, of course we proceed,” Jongho interrupted. “We don’t know what else the witch promised the demon in exchange for power and they could demand more sacrifices for more power, we can’t be too careful. The demon must be stopped.”

There was a murmur of agreement and you let out a sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose, your vision swimming again. “Y/N?” Yeosang asked, moving to kneel before you. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked.

You felt the urge to vomit but managed to push it down. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “I’m just tired.” Yeosang cupped your cheek. “She should probably rest,” Yunho offered. “Lie down for a bit.” Yeosang nodded and stood up, holding out his hand. You took it, thanking him and saying a brief farewell to the others as Yeosang led you through the house to the bedroom.

He shut the door and walked you over to the bed, sitting you down and moving to untie your boots and remove them. “Here,” he said softly, pulling the covers back and helping you lie back before pulling the covers back over you.

“We’ll be right outside,” he said softly. “If you need anything, just call for me,” he added. “Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll make it tonight.”

Sleep came quickly for you the moment he left and shut the door behind him, leaving you to a restless slumber full of nightmares.

—————————————————————

The following morning you woke up, wrapped in Yeosang’s arms, the blankets pulled up around the both of you. Blinking sleepily, you started to settle back into a slumber, wondering when he had come to bed the night before when a sour feeling in your stomach started to bubble up. You knew the feeling all too well and were awake in an instant.

You scrambled to get up, waking Yeosang in the process as you hurried to get out of his hold and the blankets without falling. “What’s wrong?” Yeosang grumbled as you ran for the door, throwing it open and running to the front door.

You managed to get it open, stepping out into the cool dawn, frost crunching under your bare feet as you ran to the outhouse, throwing open the door just in time to retch and violently throw up into the bowl.

Moments later, you heard footsteps and a sigh as you continued to spit up. After you felt you were finished, your stomach finally settling, you sat back, groaning as tears burned the corner of your eyes. You felt something warm drape around your shoulders.

“It’s alright,” you heard Yeosang whisper as he gently rubbed your arms. “Let’s get you back inside.” You allowed him to help you up and guide you back inside, ignoring the freezing cold ground under your feet. Once inside, Yeosang guided you back to the bedroom and sat you down, kneeling to wipe the bottom of your now wet feet before guiding you back to lay down.

Yeosang brought a cup to your mouth. “Here,” he said softly. “Rinse and spit. I know if you don’t you’ll wake up and complain about the taste,” he added as you obeyed, taking a sip of the water and swishing it around your mouth before spitting it back into the cup. “Well done,” he complimented as he stood up, grabbing the sheets.

“I’m fine,” you promised as he pulled the blankets up. “I know,” he replied. “It’s the baby,” he added as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll heat up something for you to eat,” he whispered before you heard his footsteps take him away and the bedroom door shut.

You must have fallen back asleep because soon, Yeosang was shaking you awake. “It’s time to get up, love,” he whispered. “You need to eat and get dressed. We have a long day ahead of us.” You whined in protest, making him chuckle as he leaned down and pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get this done. Then we can come back here and sleep all night and all day tomorrow,” he said. “Sound good?”

You opened your eyes slowly, meeting his gaze and hummed in approval. “I really won the prize by marrying you, didn’t I?” you asked, your voice sounding groggy. Yeosang let out a loud laugh, shaking his head before he cupped your cheek.

“I think it was I who won, my dear,” he replied. “Now come,” he said as he got up. “Get dressed and let’s eat.” You sat up slowly as he retreated, shutting the door behind him. Pulling back the covers, you shivered slightly as you pulled off your nightgown and started to dress.

Once your clothes were on, including your boots, you exited the bedroom to find Yeosang at the hearth, checking the contents of a pot. “We have company,” he said softly as you walked over. You peered through the doorway to find Jonas sitting at the table which had not been moved from the living room back to the kitchen yet.

You walked over to where your husband stood. “What’s he doing here?” you asked under your breath. “He’s come to congratulate you on your journey to motherhood,” Yeosang whispered. You glanced towards the doorway before turning to Yeosang, clearing your throat.

“Yeosang, I don’t want to speak to him,” you started as Yeosang set the spoon in his hands down and took your face in his hands. “I know,” he replied. “I spoke with Yunho and he told me what you both saw,” Yeosang whispered. “But let’s not talk about that now,” he continued. “We’ll go out there together.”

He took your hand and guided you towards the door, entering the room with you in tow. Jonas sat at the table, looking out the window but as soon as the two of you entered, he turned his head, offering a smile. It looked pleasant enough but after what you’d seen, you felt it was out of place and chilling. Yeosang sat you down one seat away from Jonas, taking the seat between you as a sort of shield.

“News has spread of your addition to the village,” Jonas started, looking past Yeosang and directly at you. You glanced at Yeosang who nodded, speaking for you. “Yes,” he said. “It comes as a shock to us,” Yeosang said in a polite voice. “A shock?” Jonas asked, taking his eyes off you momentarily to look at Yeosang. You felt relief for a moment.

“I’m sure as newlyweds, you’ve been very…” he trailed off, his eyes wandering back to you. “Vigorous in your new couple activities.” His words sent a chill up your spine, the sour feeling back in your stomach. You could feel the bile rising up.

“Oh, uh,” Yeosang’s words failed him as he tried to think of some sort of response. “Well, I suppose,” he tried again but faltered, glancing at you. “Pastor Kang, could I have a word with your lovely wife. I could use a glass of ale. I’m quite thirsty and in her delicate condition, I’m sure she should be resting right now. Especially when you have such a big night ahead of you.” Yeosang hesitated, glancing at you.

Words failed him again and reluctantly, he got up, walking into the kitchen. The moment he was gone, you tried to get up, the sour feeling rising in your stomach, but Jonas grabbed your wrist, holding you down as he leaned forward to speak.

“If you think you saw something in the church yesterday,” he started, his grip on your wrist starting to hurt. “Then you are gravely mistaken, indeed. It was a trick of the light. Something conjured by that fanciful imagination of yours. But what you saw was nothing, am I understood?” he asked in a low voice.

You tried to pull away from him, the contents of your stomach threatening to spill any moment. You heard a door opened quickly and you turned to see Yunho walk in from the spare bedroom, making a beeline for Jonas who quickly let go of you, clearly not expecting to be interrupted. Yunho towered over the man as he sat back in his chair.

“If you ever lay a hand on her again,” Yunho started, not bothering to keep his voice down, drawing Yeosang out of the kitchen in a hurry. “I will not hesitate to expose you for what you are, snake,” Yunho continued. Jonas stared up at Yunho with a murderous rage.

“Please make sure our guest leaves, Yunho,” Yeosang said as he moved to your side, grabbing your wrist to inspect the marks of irritation that had started to form. Yunho made to grab Jonas by the jacket but he slapped the larger man’s hand away.

“Don’t touch me, you fool,” Jonas hissed at Yunho who narrowed his eyes. Quick as a snake, Yunho’s hand closed around Jonas’ throat and he pulled him up. Jonas choked and struggled against Yunho’s grip. “You will leave this village or I will expose you and leave you to the villagers’ wrath,” he said as he turned the knob for the door before shoving Jonas out.

Yunho glared at the elder minister as Yeosang checked your face. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked. You shook your head. “I feel sick,” you moaned. You heard the door slam shut and turned your head to see Jonas marching back towards the church.

“What about the other priests?” you asked, looking up as Yunho moved to sit across from you. “They stayed with other families last night,” Yeosang explained, inspecting your face once more. “Turns out all the protective charms that Jonas made weren’t protecting anyone,” he explained. You turned your gaze to Yunho. “We discussed this yesterday while you were sleeping,” Yunho said, looking at Yeosang. “But we believe Jonas is the witch,” he continued.

“Or at the very least, aiding them,” Yeosang interjected. Yunho let out a dry laugh. “I know you want to believe in him, Yeosang,” he started. “But you didn’t see what I saw. Or what she saw,” he added, nodding towards you. “Ask her.”

Yeosang turned his head to look at you. “It’s true, his eyes—”

“No,” Yunho said, shaking his head. “Not his eyes. The vision.” You stared at him as it came back to you. “W-what vision?” you stammered. Yunho leaned forward, looking into your eyes. “I know you saw it,” he said, ignoring the way you shook your head in denial.

“Because I saw it, too. Last night. The witch, the altar, the summoning circle. All of it,” Yunho explained. “Everything makes sense now. It was all Jonas’ doing.” Looking at your husband, you could tell he was at a loss for words. He wanted to believe his mentor was incapable of such atrocities but you knew what you felt when you looked at Jonas yesterday and again today when he touched you.

Jonas was the witch. The one responsible for everything.

“What are you doing? We need to warn people!” Yunho smiled, shaking his head as he looked down at the table. “We’ve already done that,” he answered. Yeosang turned to look at Yunho. “What?” he asked. Yunho looked up. “The church is being searched now by the villagers. I instructed Jongho, Mingi, San, and Wooyoung to mention something to the families they were staying with in passing. Of course, it might have taken some persuasion,” Yunho continued, shrugging his shoulder

“But at this time, I imagine the villagers are conducting a very thorough search of the church and Jonas’ room,” he concluded. He looked up to meet your gaze. “He will be forced to run and when we banish the demon tonight, he will lose his powers and won’t be able to hurt anyone else,” he added. A small smile spread across your face.

Yeosang sighed, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth before he finally relented. “Alright,” he said. “So we’re still going through with the plan?” Yeosang asked and Yunho nodded. “Of course,” Yunho answered, turning to look out the window. You followed his gaze in time to see a mob of villagers exit the church, dragging Jonas out with them. You turned away from the window, meeting Yunho’s eyes. “This village’s trouble ends,” he said softly.

“Tonight.”

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, the plan was set into motion. You took a lantern, intent on leaving to head into the woods. Yeosang pulled you into a very tight embrace before kissing you. “Please be safe,” he said softly. “I’ll see you at the stream.”

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, taking one of his hands and placing it over your stomach. “Us. You will see us at the stream,” you replied, correcting him. Yeosang let out a small huff that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a cry. He cupped your cheek and nodded. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you replied as you pulled back. “Alright, Y/N,” Wooyoung said as you raised your hood. “It’s important that you guide him to stand in exactly the right spot,” he explained. “I know, Wooyoung,” you said softly, giving him a smile. “I know the mark.”

San gave you a smile as you turned to him. “If he tries to grab you, tie this to his wrist. It’ll hurt him enough to let go of you and you should be able to run away. We won’t be far,” he said, handing you a small garland. You tucked it away, thanking him.

“I’ll be fine,” you said as you looked around at them. The village was empty save for the priests and yourself. You were ready to play your part in the trap and the villagers had agreed to stay out of the way, keeping inside their homes with new protective charms over the doors and windows of their homes.

After another round of farewells, you headed for the woods, walking over the yellowed grass and dirt. You hadn’t been into the forest since Hongjoong chased you out and so going back felt intimidating. You’d never been afraid of the forest before but now you had a very real reason to fear it which had once been the reason you loved it.

Yeosang watched as you stepped into the forest, disappearing into the trees quickly and let out a soft sob. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Yunho standing beside him, looking to the forest where you had just disappeared. “It’s going to be alright,” Yunho said reassuringly. “She’s going to be alright.”

“Come,” Mingi said, turning to look at the others. “We have work to do.”

The sun was low enough it was filtering through the trees, elongating the shadows and bathing everything in a golden glow.

‘Golden hour,’ you thought as you walked through the woods, making your way to the cabin. Hongjoong rarely showed himself when the sun was out and so it felt like this was the best time to go into the forest and find his witch box.

Instead of following the path, you tread over the broken branches and fallen logs that littered the forest floor knowing it would get you to the cabin much faster. As you trudged further into the forest, you felt less and less safe. A stark contrast to how you used to feel.

You reached the cabin in no time and saw before you a scene you hadn’t been prepared for. The goats that once greeted you were lying in a pile in their shed, blood and feathers bathed the garden as you stepped over the mess and carefully pushed open the cabin door.

Inside the cabin was a mess. Furniture had been thrown around, destroyed and splintered wood littered the floor. There was blood all over the door and walls and feathers all over the floor. You walked further into the cabin and found the hidden panel. Pushing it open, you knelt down and peered in, finding it empty.

You crawled into the small space, setting your lantern down and producing a small trowel. Looking around for any sort of marked spot, you found a small symbol carved in the wood of the cabin. Taking the trowel, you started digging under the spot for a few minutes until the tip of your trowel hit something. You unearthed a small wooden box and grabbed the lantern.

Carefully, you dusted the top off and found the carving in the top matched the amulet Hongjoong used to wear. You carefully opened it and found what looked to be a lot of small trinkets. You closed it, knowing you couldn’t waste any more time. You grabbed the lantern and scrambled out of the crawlspace.

Once back in the cabin you made for the exit and froze in the doorway. Hongjoong was standing outside the garden gate, watching you. You took a deep breath and exited the cabin, walking towards the gate. He didn’t move, instead, watched you curiously.

As you started to walk past, he stepped in front of you, blocking the path. “What are you doing here?” he asked, in a soft voice. You looked up, not expecting that. His eyes were no longer demonic but back to the warm brown you had grown accustomed to and fell in love with.

“I’m doing what you asked me to do,” you replied. “You told me if anything happened to you that I should take this box from its hiding place and bury it deep in the forest.” You gestured at the box cradled in your arm. Hongjoong glanced at it before his eyes met yours.

“Why didn’t you do it before?” You stared at him. “Well it was storming that night and so I planned to do it the next morning but then you came back that night and things just got… confusing,” you said softly. You glanced towards the setting sun. Hongjoong seemed to take notice. “Are you in a hurry?” he asked, sounding genuine.

You nodded. “Yeah, the woods aren’t safe at night,” you said softly. An idea crossed your mind. “I’m going to bury this now. Do… Do you want to come with me? See where I put it just in case?” Hongjoong’s eyes lit up, a smile crossing over his face as he nodded.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before holding your hand out for him to take. He hesitantly took your hand and you walked, pulling him along as you headed for the stream. As you walked, hand in hand, you noticed how his hand was warm and it almost was as if he was himself again but you knew it was dangerous to think like that.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said softly as you walked. “I do, though,” you said, nodding, seeing bits of the stream through the trees. “Why?” he asked. “Why do you have to do it?” You glanced up at him as you walked.

“Because I promised you I would and I keep my promises.”

Hongjoong studied your face before he looked down, noticing the ring on your finger. “Like you kept your promise to love only me?” he asked, sounding heartbroken. “You died,” you reminded him. “You died and became something else. I had to think of myself,” you explained. “I needed to get away from my parents. I just wanted to feel happy again,” you said softly.

Hongjoong stopped, keeping a firm grip on your hand.

“We could be happy,” he said as you turned to look at him. “Hongjoong,” you said, shaking your head as he let go of your hand and moved forward, closing the distance and taking your face gently in his hands.

“We could leave this all behind. Run away like we planned and live a life by the sea,” he continued. You pulled back, feeling your conflicting emotions swirling inside you. “No, we can’t,” you replied. “You’re dead, Hongjoong.”

He looked at you in both pain and confusion. “You said you would always love me,” he whispered, voice cracking. “And I will,” you replied. “I will always love Hongjoong,” you repeated. He looked up at you. “But you are not Hongjoong.”

He stared at you until his form shifted, the fiery eyes coming back, horns reappearing. “You’re a very smart woman,” he said, Hongjoong’s soft cadence gone, replaced with this more confident and arrogant sound one. “We could be happy,” he repeated, his hand moving to your cheek. “I could be him,” he added.

His hand slid down to your throat, fingers brushing your skin. “I could be Hongjoong for you,” he whispered. The thought of a demon masquerading as Hongjoong made your skin crawl. It was bad enough he had latched onto his soul and possessed his body. “I could build you those cabins. What was it? A hundred of them? I could do that.”

You backed away from him, shaking your head. “No,” you answered. “You are a demon, pretending to be the man I loved. You’ve killed people. You wanted to kill me,” you continued. The demon took a step forward. “I wanted to,” he said, emphasizing the past tense.

“I don’t want that anymore,” he pressed on. “All I want is you now. I wish I could kill you but he would fight. He might force me out and I can’t have that. I worked too hard to get this body.” You stared at him in disgust. “He’s powerful. His thoughts. He wants you more than anything. More than life itself. I have never experienced such intense longing like this.”

“I have to have you or else the thoughts won’t stop.” You took a step back.

“You’ll never have me,” you replied. “You’re not Hongjoong. You’re a disgusting, vile demon who has killed good, innocent people. Hongjoong would be disgusted by what you’ve done with his body. You will never be Hongjoong!”

The demon lunged for you but you dodged his attempt and turned, heading for the stream, jumping over the sigil on the forest floor. The demon gave chase, running through it and just like that he was caught.

“Got him!” Wooyoung yelled. At once, the priests appeared from the brush and attached ropes to Hongjoong’s wrists and neck, holding him as Yunho prepared the banishing ritual.

“Y/N,” Yeosang said as he turned to look at you. “Head back to the village!” You looked at the ropes binding Hongjoong as he fought to free himself and shook your head. “No,” you whispered. “It’ll take too long,” you said back. “I’m going further!”

Before Yeosang could stop you, you had turned and ran across the stream, following the path you’d look at, wondering where it led.

Tonight would be the night you would find out.

As you ran through the trees, you followed the twists and turns of the dirt path as the sun sank lower and lower towards the horizon. As you rounded the bend, an old stone building came into view. You ran towards it, stepping over the threshold and looked around. It was a round room with three open doorways and a smaller room opposite where you entered. It seemed to be structurally sound.

You approached a small round platform and stepped onto it, looking up at the stone ceiling before kneeling down and setting the box down. You drew a circle with a sigil inside, following Mingi’s instructions and carefully set the box in the middle, grabbing the firestarter Yeosang had given you and quickly lit a fire before lighting a small piece of loose fibers and dropping them into the box.

You quickly surrounded the entire circle with a protection circle, like Mingi has shown you and took a step back, looking at the small inferno before you. “Now no one can stop it,” you whispered as you sat back and watched it burn.

“We can’t hold him much longer,” Yeosang said as he watched Hongjoong struggle against the ropes. “It’s just so Y/N can burn the contents of the box,” he said, turning to look in the direction you had run. Hongjoong let out a roar, pulling at the ropes. Yeosang looked as the individual threads started to snap.

“Perhaps we better start,” he said, turning to look at Yunho who nodded. “Yes,” he answered. “Jongho,” he added, turning to look at the monk. “You’re up.”

Mingi and Wooyoung tightened their grip on the ropes as did Yeosang. Yunho took Jongho’s place, allowing the youngest to approach Hongjoong from the front, reaching into the bag slung over his shoulder and pulling out a small leatherbound book.

He looked up at the demon as it snarled and attempted to lash out. Jongho glanced around at the others as he opened the book. “Let’s begin.”

Jongho cleared his throat before speaking in a clear, unwavering tone.

“In nómine Pátris, et Fílii, + et Spirítus Sancti. Amen.” A chorus of affirmations rang out from the others before he continued.

“Exsúrgat Deus et dissipéntur inimíci ejus: et fúgiant qui odérunt eum a fácie ejus. Sicut déficit fumus defíciant; sicut fluit cera a fácie ígnis, sic péreant peccatóres a fácie Dei. Júdica Dómine nocéntes me; expúgna impugnántes me,” he continued. Yunho glanced at the setting sun before turning to look at the demon. The ropes were becoming more and more frayed as the strength of the demon grew.

“I think we might have to skip formalities, Jongho,” Yunho said as he looked at the young priest. Jongho looked up, eyes examining the ropes before he lowered his eyes and started flipping through the pages of his book.

“Exorcizámos te, ómnis immúnde spíritus, ómnis satánic potéstas, ómnis infernális adversárii, ómnis légio, ómnis congregátio et sécta diabólica, in nómine et virtúte Dómini nóstri Jésu et Chrísti,” he continued, reading from the new page. “Eradicáre et effugáre a Dei Ecclésia, ab animábus ad imáginem Dei cónditis ac pretióso divíni Ágni sánguine redémptis. Non últra áudeas, sérpens callidíssime, decípere humánum génus, Dei Ecclésiam pérsequi, ac Dei eléctos excútere et cribráre sicut tríticum. Ímperat tíbi Deus altíssimus, + cui in mágna tua supérbia te símile habéri ádhuc praesúmis; qui ómnes hóminess vult sálvos fíeri, et ad agnitiónem veritátis veníre.”

San looked at Wooyoung with a quizzical look. “Does it always take you this long?” he asked, to which Wooyoung glared at him. “You can’t just recite a few words and then lop his head off,” Wooyoung answered. “It’s much more complex than that.”

At his words, the demon let out a roar, pulling at the ropes even more. “We don’t have time for this!” Yunho yelled at the two. “Jongho, I apologize, I know you have a penchant for doing this properly but we really cannot waste any time. We have to speed this up before we lose control of the demon!”

Jongho’s brows furrowed in annoyance as he flipped a few pages further and reached into his bag, pulling out a small vial of what looked to be blood. “What is that?” San asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Blood,” Jongho said simply. “The order Jongho comes from uses blood instead of water for rituals. They bless it the same way you do water,” Yunho explained.

Jongho flicked the vial towards the demon and immediately, a reaction occurred. The blood hit the demon’s face and started to sizzle, the demon letting out a demonic screech. “Váde sátana, invéntor et magíster ómnis falláciae, hóstis humánae salútis,” Jongho said in a loud, clear voice. “Da lócum Chrísto, in quo níhil invenísti de opéribus tuis; da lócum Ecclésia Uni, Sanctae, Cathólicae, et Apostólicae, quam Chrístus ípse acquisívit sánguine suo!”

He turned to look at San. “Ready yourself,” he instructed. San nodded, reaching over his shoulder to grab the handle of the sword that rested against his back, keeping his eyes on Hongjoong. “When I tell you, swing and swing hard.”

“Humiliáre sub poténti mánu Dei; contremísce et éffuge, invocáto a nóbis sáncto et terríbili nominé Jésu, quem ínferi trémunt, cui Virtútes caelórum et Potestátes et Dominatiónes subjéctae sunt, quem Chérubim et Séraphim indeféssis vócibus láudant, dicéntes: Sánctus, Sanctus, Sanctus Dóminus Déus Sábaoth,” Jongho recited the passage from his book.

“You know this next part. Recite your parts,” Jongho instructed, directing his words to San.

“Ab insídiis diáboli,” Jongho said, not looking up from his book as a strong wind started to swirl around them.

San’s grip tightened on his sword. “Líbera nos, Dómine,” San said, keeping his voice steady as fiery eyes turned their gaze upon him.

Jongho pressed on. “Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tíbi fácias libertáte servíre.”

San’s look of determination did not waver as he spoke. “Te rogámus, áudi nos.”

Jongho looked up from his book as he recited his last part. “Ut inimícos sánctae Ecclésiae humiliáre dignéris.” He snapped the book shut as San pulled the sword from its sheath on his back, taking the handle with both hands.

“Te rogámus, áudi nos,” San repeated, bringing the sword up.

Jongho hit the demon with one more shake of the vial of blood but before San could bring the sword down, the ropes broke, sending Mingi, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Yunho flying backwards. Jongho stumbled backwards from the force as the demon lunged at San. A choke scream of pain rang out as the demon grabbed San’s weapon, ripping it from his hands and plunging it into the hunter’s chest.

Mingi got up, grabbing the snapped end of the rope in an attempt to gain control of the situation but the demon was quicker, grabbing his arm. Mingi tried to pull his arm away but the demon was too strong.

Yeosang looked up as Mingi started to let out a scream of pain and before his eyes, Mingi’s arm caught fire, spreading quickly throughout his body. Mingi fell to the ground, screams piercing the air as he rolled around. Yeosang attempted to get up, Yunho helping him up as the demon turned its attention on Jongho, leaping onto him and knocking them both to the ground.

In a matter of seconds, the demon was able to take out three of them but Yunho was determined. He grabbed one of the ropes, fashioning a noose quickly before throwing it over the demon’s head and pulling as Yeosang grabbed another rope. Wooyoung, instead of helping, pulled out a dagger. “Wooyoung, no!” Yeosang yelled as the younger man went for the demon, driving the dagger into his side, managing to hit between two of his ribs.

Hongjoong turned, grabbing Wooyoung by the throat and squeezing. Yeosang watched as the demon lifted Wooyoung with ease, lifting him off the ground so his feet were dangling. Without wincing, he pulled the knife out of his side and stabbed it into Wooyoung’s abdomen, twisting the knife with a malevolent grin. He harshly pulled the blade out at an angle, slicing sideways into Wooyoung’s stomach before dropping him to the ground.

Yeosang’s eyes widened as Hongjoong stalked forward, Wooyoung’s dagger in hand. Yunho dropped the rope, getting to his feet, and rushed the demon. Everything that followed seemed to happen in slow motion as Hongjoong reached Yeosang.

There was a sting in his stomach, just to the left of his navel followed by a burning sensation. Yeosang’s eyes traveled down as all sound seemed to be muffled, noticing the blade of the knife had been driven into his skin, through his shirt. He looked back up to meet Hongjoong’s gaze, the two staring at one another before Yunho tackled the demon to the ground.

Yeosang let out a cry of pain as the knife was ripped from his stomach, sending a fresh wave of pain throughout his body as he covered his stomach, blood beginning to soak his shirt. Yeosang fell to his knees, looking past Hongjoong and Yunho wrestling on the forest floor to the still bodies of San and Jongho. Wooyoung was still gasping for breath as he lay, bleeding out.

Mingi’s charred body lay several paces away still smoldering. Yeosang heard a sickening snap and Yunho went limp, falling to the ground as Hongjoong stood over him. The demon turned to Yeosang, panting with effort. He grabbed the knife and walked over slowly, grabbing Yeosang by the hair and forcing him to look up at him.

“I could finish you right now,” Hongjoong said, pointing the bloodied tip of the blade at Yeosang. “But I have unfinished business with your wife. If you’re still alive when I come back,” he added, pushing Yeosang to the ground. “I’ll kill you then.”

Yeosang was unable to see which way Hongjoong went, but knew without a doubt it was the same direction you had gone. Despite the agonizing pain, Yeosang pushed himself up, keeping his hand over the wound in his stomach as he stumbled after, following the path just beyond the stream. He needed to get to you before something happened.

You sat motionless, watching the box burn, each item either turning to ash or charring. The small fire popped and crackled, providing a surprising amount of warmth as you rested a hand over your stomach. You looked down, feeling a small amount of triumph at what you had accomplished and could only hope the priests had been able to do the rest.

There was a small whoosh behind you and a gentle breeze. Your eyes widened as a chill went up your spine and slowly, you turned to look at the doorway behind you, finding Hongjoong standing in the only means of escape, hands covered in blood and a bloodied knife clenched in one hand.

Your eyes traveled up to his face, noticing the specks of blood all over his shirt, neck, and face. You scrambled up, backing away until your back hit the wall. “No,” you whispered as he looked up from the burning box. He started forward and you screamed at him to stay back.

He looked down at the knife in his hand and back up at you before tossing the blade aside, ignoring the clatter of the steel hitting the stone floor as he crossed the room to where you stood, caging you in as he grabbed your throat. “You’ve been a very bad, bad girl, Y/N,” he said as he pinned you against the wall.

You struggled against his hold, fingers slipping over the blood that coated his wrist. “Let me go,” you squeaked out, making him laugh wryly. “Let you go?” he asked in an almost hysterical tone. “Did you not hear me earlier, Starlight?” he asked, leaning in until his face was inches from yours, lips close to yours. “I. Want. You.”

You tried in vain to pry his hand off you, kicking as he slid your body up the wall, lifting your feet off the ground. “Whether you give in to me willingly or fighting doesn’t matter. I will get what I want in the end Starlight.”

You slid the garland San had given you from your pocket and quickly wrapped it around Hongjoong’s wrist. The effect was instant and he threw you to the side as he screamed in pain, the materials burning his skin.

You landed on the stone, hitting your head with a crack but tried to scrambled up and make for the archway. Hongjoong recovered quickly, crossing the distance and grabbing your ankle, making you trip and fall before he started dragging you back towards him.

“Please, please, please!” you screamed, trying desperately to grab onto the stone blocks of the floor. Hongjoong pulled you under him, rolling you onto your back as he pinned you against the stone floor. “Now you want to beg for your life?” he asked, laughing mockingly.

“After every stunt you’ve pulled. Luring me into that trap, burning that box, and then using that little trick with the garland? You think after all this, I’m going to show you mercy? You’ve been helping them all along, you slippery, little minx.”

You tried to kick him off but your efforts were in vain. “Please,” you said tearfully as his eyes traveled down to your throat. “I’m pregnant,” you whimpered, tears falling freely. Hongjoong looked up to meet your gaze. “Another trick?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You shook your head. “No,” you said breathlessly. “I’m with child. Please,” you continued.

“Don’t kill me.”

Yeosang stumbled along the path, one hand covered in blood that continued to seep out of the wound on his stomach. He leaned against a tree, the tips of his fingers growing cold as he pressed on. His breath was growing shorter, he knew he didn’t have long and he needed to get to you before Hongjoong did.

As he rounded the bend in the path, he noticed an abandoned stone building with a flickering light inside. ‘That must be where Y/N is.’ He continued forward, hobbling towards the building. As he reached the open doorway, he stumbled, falling to his knees, letting out a pained groan as more blood painted his hand. He let out a couple deep breaths before forcing himself up and through the doorway.

Across from him, perched atop a small platform, stood Hongjoong. At his feet, a ruined, burned box surrounded by a circle of protection. Yeosang looked back up and noticed you pinned against the wall behind Hongjoong, vines holding you up. You let out a gasp at the sight of your husband as he lost his balance and fell to his knees.

“Let me go, please!” you begged. Hongjoong glanced over his shoulder before he sighed, waving his hand. The vines retreated, slithering away like snakes and releasing you from their hold. You rushed past him to Yeosang, dropping to your knees to look him over, only noticing his bloodied hand as you looked down.

Hongjoong stepped around the box, stepping down from the platform as he watched as you fretted over Yeosang. You turned to look at him, tears in your eyes. “Please,” you begged. “Save him. If Hongjoong is still in there, please save Yeosang!”

The demon let out an exasperated sigh. “He can’t hear you,” he said, shaking his head. “Hongjoong is buried deep inside. And besides,” he said, starting to pace the room behind you. “I doubt he would willingly help the man who stole you from him.”

You turned to look at him. “He didn’t steal me!” you argued. “Hongjoong died, you tried to kill me, and Yeosang saved me. I owe him everything. I love him.” You felt Yeosang grab your arm, looking up at you wearily. “Run,” he panted. “Leave me and save yourself.”

You shook your head, taking his face in your hands. “No,” you replied. “I’m not leaving you behind!” You heard Hongjoong stop pacing behind you and turned to look at him. “He’s right, you know. You should run. I’ll even cut you a deal,” he said with a smile as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You run now, I’ll focus all my attention Yeosang. Draw out his suffering before I kill him and when I’m done, I will hunt you down and do the same to you. Think of it as a head start,” he said with a wicked grin, a malicious glint in his eye.

You stared back in horror. “You said you didn’t want to kill me,” you reminded him. Hongjoong smiled, laughing to himself before it subsided. “Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I lied.”

Yeosang started coughing and you turned as he coughed blood into his hand. “Oh,” said Hongjoong in mock concern. “That doesn’t look too good.” You turned to glare at him, tears streaming down your face. “Now is your perfect chance to run, cause if he dies before you get very far, it won’t take me that long to hunt you down.”

You shook your head. “You’re a monster,” you spat. “How charming,” Hongjoong said in a monotonous voice as he stared back. “I’m offering you a chance to live just a little bit longer and you’re calling me names for it.”

“I’m not leaving!” you shouted. “I’m not a fucking coward, like you!” You turned to look at Yeosang who was shaking his head. “I’m not running.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. “Do what you have to,” you whispered. “I’ll buy you some time.”

Hongjoong’s smile widened. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said before crossing the distance and grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulling you from Yeosang’s grasp. “No! Don’t. She’s pregnant!” he yelled as Hongjoong dragged you back, making you face Yeosang as he forced you to your knees. “She already tried that,” Hongjoong scoffed.

He produced the knife taken from Wooyoung and brought the edge of the blade to your throat. “No, no, no!” Yeosang shouted. “It’s not mine!” he yelled, drawing Hongjoong’s attention. “What?” the demon asked. “It’s not mine,” Yeosang whispered. “She was pregnant before we were ever intimate. She got… so sick before we got married. She was sick for days. Throwing up blood and I thought maybe she’d been poisoned,” Yeosang explained quickly.

“But I think she was pregnant.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the priest before looking down at you and back up to Yeosang slowly. “And there’s only one other man she’s been with,” Yeosang added. You sobbed silently as Hongjoong lowered the knife, pointing it at Yeosang. “Do you take me for a fool?” he asked.

Yeosang shook his head. “No,” he answered. “But you must have known when Hongjoong came back, they were intimate. You were already inside his body. Did you not take control sometimes? During the act?” The demon stared at him. “And what if I did?” he asked. “What would that change?”

“That could be your child,” Yeosang answered. “It wouldn’t be mine,” the demon answered. “It would be Hongjoong’s.” Yeosang shook his head, holding a hand out as he rushed to buy some time. “No, not if you were in control when you climaxed. It would be your child.”

The demon looked back up. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” he asked, letting out a humorless laugh. “This changes nothing. You’re both going to die.”

You let out a sob as Hongjoong grabbed the back of your head. “Look at him!” he ordered. “I want his dying face to be the last thing you see,” he added as he brought the blade back to your throat. “Y/N, look at me,” Yeosang said suddenly as you gasped between sobs. “Look at me, sweetheart.” You blinked the tears away, meeting his gaze.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Do what you have to,” you added. “I love you, Yeosang. So much.” His eyes widened as you glanced down at the box before you turned, lunging at Hongjoong and knocking the both of you backwards, the knife falling from his hand with a metallic clang. Yeosang dropped his hand to the stone, quickly drawing a small sigil as you and Hongjoong wrestled on the floor, both of you grunting in effort.

“Fortress of stone, hear my words and hold this creature of evil at bay. Let him not travel from this place for eternity as long as the stone endures. Hide him away from the world and keep him imprisoned,” Yeosang whispered as he finished the symbol.

With a loud snap, Yeosang looked up as Hongjoong sat up, staring down at your lifeless body. A sob left Yeosang’s lips as the demon got up, stumbling backwards as he stared, wide eyed at your corpse. The fiery eyes had returned to Hongjoong’s warm brown ones and in a cruel joke, the demon forced Hongjoong to look on in horror at what he’d done. “I’m…” Hongjoong whispered as Yeosang dragged himself over to where you lay.

Hongjoong looked up as Yeosang reached you, pulling you up to cradle your shoulders. “I didn’t mean to—” Hongjoong said as Yeosang looked up at him. “I know,” Yeosang answered. “It wasn’t you. It was the demon.” He looked back down, caressing your still warm cheek. “It was one last cruel act of the demon to break your spirit and I daresay it worked.”

When Yeosang looked back up, the warm brown eyes of Hongjoong were gone, the demon’s eyes were back and he looked down at him. “Very observant indeed,” the demon said with a sneer. “I was going to kill you,” he continued as he started to walk past. “But I think I’ll just let you bleed out. It’s more fun that way.”

Yeosang let out a humorless chuckle. “You’ll have to stay and watch,” he said, looking up. Hongjoong turned at the doorway to look at him. “I’ve bound your demonic soul to this building and now you’ll never be able to leave,” Yeosang explained, pointing at the sigil which was now etched into the stone and no longer written in his blood.

“As long as any part of this building stands, you will be stuck here for eternity,” Yeosang gasped, as his grip on you lessened, the strength leaving his body. He was able to give the demon a smirk of his own as those fiery eyes turned to look at him in a murderous rage. “My parting gift to you.”

Yeosang slowly succumbed to his wound, slumping over your body as he finally passed out. Hongjoong turned to the doorway and attempted to reach past it, finding an invisible barrier keeping him from leaving. He tried again only to be forced back. He let out a scream of frustration, kicking the stone wall as he tried in vain to break the stone and free himself.

He threw himself against one of the walls and screamed in anger towards the stone ceiling, the sound reverberating off the stone. He sat in silence, breathing heavily as he stared at yours and Yeosang’s lifeless bodies and then the burnt box. He looked away, anger still coursing through him until he saw the three open doorways, staring at them for what felt like hours.

Finally, he got up and walked over, peering into each one before he started to inspect the walls more closely. He turned about the room a few times before he walked over to the small platform and stepped up onto it, looking around before raising his gaze to the ceiling, noticing the small open circle in the middle.

He looked down and took a seat at the edge of the platform, looking at you and Yeosang once more before scoffing. “Well,” he said, admitting defeat. “You certainly got the last laugh in,” he continued. “And since I’ll be stuck here for the foreseeable future,” he added.

“Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

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freesia-writes · 7 months

Note

hello friend, for the valentines rec - would you be interested in doing a fake dating/relationship situation b/w Crosshair and f!reader? go wild with why they have to fake date 😂

thankssss ❤️HB

THE CROSSHAIR EFFECT got me on this one! 😂 Sometimes when I write him, I just get absolutely sucked in. So this one had me in a mood and I quite enjoyed it. It's a little stereotypical or trope-y or something, but it's delightfully indulgent in my doofus opinion. So I hope you enjoy! 😊 Dividers by @stars-n-spice on this post here.

Crosshair x F!Reader Word Count: 2000ish, hehe Content Warnings: just kissin and in-universe cussin

OH, and since this takes place at a fancy gala, I have to link this gorgeous fanart by @perfectlywingedcrusade because it's just fitting and should be appreciated by everyone. They're lovely images of Crosshair and her OC, so check em out!

A kiss on the hand and a cup of the face

Holding each other close in fancy attire

Out for a stroll while lookin good

The grand gala was in full swing, the opulent castle venue aglow with soft, golden light and the murmur of animated conversations. You and Crosshair, disguised as a wealthy couple, moved gracefully through the crowd, your steps synchronized as you navigated the sea of elegantly dressed guests. The stoic sniper's presence beside you was palpable, his every movement calculated and precise. His sharp gaze swept over the room, taking in every detail with a keen eye for potential threats. Despite the formal attire he wore, there was an unmistakable air of danger about him, a reminder of the skilled soldier lurking beneath the facade of a sophisticated gentleman. And it kinda gave you the tingles.

As you exchanged pleasantries with other guests, your mind raced with the mission at hand. The two of you had been tasked with infiltrating the gala to gather intel on a new weapon being developed by the Separatists. It was a high-stakes operation, and the success of the mission relied on your ability to blend in seamlessly with the crowd while discreetly gathering information.

You stole a glance at him, marveling at the effortless way he maintained his cover. His demeanor was cool and collected, his expression unreadable as he engaged in polite conversation with the other guests. You marveled at his ability to remain composed under pressure, and if you were being honest, you’d admired him for a long time, and had given in to an increasing amount of time spent thinking about being with him in various scenarios. So when this mission had come up in such a way that required you to pretend you were in a relationship, you’d had to fight hard to keep your face neutral and even harder to ignore the pronounced eyeroll and scoff of disgust he’d made.

You were still trying to push the thought from your mind as you leaned against the bar, having split up to different parts of the room. You could swear there had been some significant moments between the two of you, conversations that showed some vulnerability, slight softening in his piercing glares… But sometimes you wondered if the entire dynamic was just wishful thinking on your part.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” a fellow attendee said, sidling up beside you at the bar. You gave a small smile and a nod, just enough to acknowledge him without being memorable in any way, hoping he would take the hint.

He didn’t.

“Where are you from?” he pressed, stepping slightly closer and holding up two fingers to the bartender, who had waved to him for his order. “I feel like I’d remember a beautiful thing like you.” You had your selection of default answers, offering some uninteresting and vague information, but he was a bona fide hemorrhoid, weaseling ever closer both verbally and physically.

“I feel like you’re not being entirely honest with me,” he purred, tilting his head and reaching to trace fingers along your arm.

“I’m not sure I want to tell all my secrets to someone I just met,” you replied, matching his suggestive energy to avoid triggering any toxic masculinity. You gave him a small smile, but it was met with a furrowed brow that made you start to feel a little anxious at how to get out of this particular situation.

Right on cue, however, Crosshair stepped in, his arm sliding around your waist as he pulled you close. Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced up at him, face relaxing into content familiarity.

"Darling, there you are," he said smoothly, flashing the intruder a charming smile. The honey-sweet words in his sibilant, smoky tone were absolutely intoxicating, and you silently cursed the flush that bloomed across your cheeks without your permission. "I've been looking all over for you."

The guest faltered, taken aback by Crosshair's sudden appearance, and when the sniper turned to face him fully, positively exuding confidence, he excused himself with a polite nod.

"Thanks," you murmured, grateful for the diversion.

"Don't mention it," he replied, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "We have to be convincing, don’t we…”

“Sorry you got stuck doing this with me.” You felt a wave of frustration wash over you, beginning to feel tired of the way he seemed to jerk you back and forth between softness and harshness, fondness and disdain. You wished he would just come clean one way or the other.

“A mission’s a mission.”

“Mhm,” you agreed, feeling your mood souring by the second.

“Problem?” he asked quietly, forcing the fakest smile you’d ever seen as a couple passed by and fluttered their fans in your direction. It made you want to punch him.

“Nope. Just… On a mission.” You pulled your fur more tightly around you, scanning the room for the targets who were supposed to have the inside info. You’d had yet to locate them, despite schmoozing for the last hour or two. You didn’t notice the way his eyes followed the flow of your hair into a regal bun at the nape of your neck, nor the way they continued back up across your face, unreadable emotion flickering just beneath the surface.

“Oh, Chris, you’re hilarious,” you proclaimed, in the snooty voice you’d adopted around others. You could tell it grated on Crosshair’s nerves, and you couldn’t help the smug sense of satisfaction you felt when his steely gaze met yours for a moment in the privacy of a quick sideways look. You knew there’d be hell to pay later for randomly giving him a name like that, but you didn’t care. Your feet were aching and you’d been done with all the fake socializing about an hour and a half ago. But the two of you had finally worked your way into the “inner circle of sleemos”, as your partner had deemed them, and now were the critical moments upon which the entire mission hinged.

“Not nearly as delightful as you, my little poodoo,” he answered, earning a round of gasps and chuckles from the uppity crowd.

“I say!” declared a man with a huge space-walrus mustache. “That is quite the nickname, my good boy!” He chuffed heartily, casting a side glance at his tall, spiky wife who clearly didn’t approve. Quickly changing his demeanor, he was shaking his head in somber disapproval by the time he looked back at you.

“Oh, we’re just so… so close…” Crosshair continued, almost choking on his words as he looped an arm around your waist again and pulled you against him so abruptly that a little bit of your drink sloshed out of the glowing martini glass. You quickly turned your splutter of indignation into a playful giggle, not so subtly digging an elbow between his ribs as best you could. “I could just call her every name in the book,” he gushed, poking the tip of your nose with a single finger.

“Oh goodness,” you laughed, downing the rest of your drink in one huge gulp. “Would you excuse us? And can I get anyone else another drink?” You turned away so quickly, grabbing your partner by the arm and dragging him along, that you didn’t see Mr. Walrus Stache lifting a finger to take you up on that drink offer. Instead, you did your best to hide the absolute rage you felt beneath the surface as you found a side door out onto a small balcony. There was a single member of the waitstaff there, a Rhodian who was taking a drag off a long cigarette, and his luminous eyes narrowed at the two of you as you appeared, flicking the ash off the end of his smoke and dropping it to the ground before stalking back to work.

“What’s gotten into you?” Crosshair began, turning on you as soon as the last tails of the server’s apron were out of sight. You looked up at him, too frustrated to enjoy how close he was as he loomed above you furiously. “We finally get--”

“ME?!” you spluttered, grasping the shiny lapels of his suit jacket, “You think we’re gonna get anywhere with you calling me poodoo?!” In any other context, the sheer ridiculousness of the situation would have been hilarious, but the simmering undercurrent had risen to a rollicking boil, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Well if you weren’t acting like such a little shi--”

“You’re ridiculous!” you yelled, fists clenched at your sides. But before you could finish the rest of your retort, his hand was clapped over your mouth, cutting off any further attempts to lash out at him. It did not, however, help to quell the fury within. You grabbed his arm with both hands, pulling at it in futility, then froze completely as he stepped in close, wedging a thigh between your legs and flattening you against the stone wall of the castle with his entire body. “What the f--”

“Just shut up for one second,” he hissed, and the sheer intensity of his presence combined with the exhilaration of him pressed against you took every last thought and word right out of your brain. You let out a breath, heart pounding against his chest where he’d bent himself around you, eyes large as they locked on his. He slowly removed his hand, wiping it on his pants with a slight wrinkle of the nose, then tucked it into his pocket, leaving the other arm braced on the wall above you. “Listen,” he said, quietly now, with an urgency yet softness that melted you to your core. “Whatever… this… is…” He took a deep breath, then continued, “We need to get that intel. Then you can… take care of yourself…” He finished with a tiny, confident nod, stepping back in surprise when you burst into laughter.

“Take care of myself?” You slapped your hands flat on his chest, pushing him away with playful force as you felt yourself puffing up again to put him in his place. “Crosshair, you don’t have a damn clue, do you…” You ran out of steam as you registered the myriad of emotions on his face, slowly falling silent as he closed the distance between the two of you again, emanating a different kind of energy this time.

“Care to enlighten me, then?” he asked, tilting his head at you with equal parts condescension and provocation. There was a smolder in his pale brown eyes that made your heart skip a beat, and you were so overrun with feelings of your own that you couldn’t even begin to sort out one from another. You reached for his lapels again, now using them to pull him back against you as you brought your mouth to his with a forceful, determined kiss. His tiny huff of an exhale had a million possible meanings, but you didn’t care, because one of his hands found your waist and the other cupped the back of your head, pressing his face into yours with a hunger that set your… heart… on fire.

You lost track of everything else as your senses were flooded with every magnificent aspect of him… His scent, touched up with a ritzy fragrance he’d added for the evening… His slightly raspy breathing… The warmth and passion that radiated from his strong, focused frame. The feeling of his mouth on yours was everything you’d imagined it to be, and he pulled back for a short breath of air before turning his head the other direction and capturing your lips again, slightly more open this time as you melted against him.

It felt like a split second and an hour later when you separated, with deep, ragged breaths and a blissfully dumbfounded look on your face, staring at him in awe and unabashed delight. He kept his face stoic, though there was a slight glow to his cheeks and a spark in his eyes that made your knees weak.

“Now can you keep your head on straight?” he poked, stepping back and straightening his suit.

“Absolutely not.”

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pixlpxie · 2 months

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I SAW YOUR BODY MODIFICATIONS MINGI REBLOG AND I REBLOGGED THAT WITH MINGI + NIPPLE PIERCINGS BUT

Ateez with nipple piercings and that being their weakness or a young or lip piercing and how it feels when they eat you out like your thots on that? Idk if any of that made send but oh LORD the thought of having Yeosang a tongue shoved in my cunt and his ball piercing dragging against my clit is making me fell things she is purring ahhhh

Ok so you know me and how much i love piercing!teez agenda so heres what i think abt the members and their piercing/s 😋 id love to write smuts for these but i got impatient so this answer might not be really satisfactory or may not be what you're looking for but here we gooo 🫵🏻

Hongjoong: VERTICAL LABRET☝🏻☝🏻Yall know that one edit i posted here and how it would feel on you while he eats you out 😔 literally it would drag on your clit everytime and you would just feel like having a vibrator on you

Seonghwa: Tongue piercing duh🙄 especially snake eyes (tho theyre considered unsafe but its just imagination anyway) would fit his long ass tongue so much 😣 those two cold metal balls would abuse your clit bc of his fast movements or you would feel the metal touching your walls on both sides when he shoves his tongue inside you 🥺

Yunho: Lip piercings, either a labret or a lip ring (dolphin kiss too) 👹 the cold ring would scratch your pussy each time he'd suck on your clit or your nipples 👹👹👹

Yeosang: Angel fangs🤠 id imagine those piercings feeling like hes biting you, the sharp metal would just scrape your sensitive parts constantly like imma go fucking feral but like you said tongue piercing would go hard on him too👹

San: Lip rings 🥴 His lip shape is just perfect for them and if theyre on both sides he would make sure you feel each of them 😣

Mingi: Split tongue + bridge piercing 🥴 I've done multiple posts on him having a split tongue and how he'd use it on you but also imagine him having a nose bridge piercing that would touch your clit evertime you ride his nose 😮‍💨

Wooyoung: Snake bites + tongue piercing 😋 do you see the vision babes like he was born to have these piercings just imagine those metals dragging around your sensitive spots and bc theyre multiple around the same area you would just constantly get edged as he sucks you

Jongho: double lip ring 🤭 he would tease you a lot ngl especially while kissing.. also i don't know if you can feel septum piercings when you sit on someones nose but i feel like you might sooo septum jongho supporter till i die☝🏻

About them having nipple piercings: Mingi, Wooyoung and Hongjoong would have nipple piercings, Mingi would be the most sensitive among the three. Yeosang and Seonghwa wouldn't have them but they should have them because they would suit them so much and Seonghwa would be the most tempted one. Jongho, San and Yunho wouldn't get them at all in my opinion but i mean whos stopping them rly 🥴

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astrobiscuits · 1 year

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Astroids you should check out in Solar Return chart part 2

Loves, ik it's been FOREVER since i last wrote a SR asteroids post. Truth is, i find not many asteroids have got a meaning which fits the specific of SR charts. My apologies😭😭

💸Asteroid Erben (40106) - "to inherit" (its meaning comes from German)

Having asteroid Erben (40106) prominent in SR chart indicates a year when you're gonna inherit money. Whether it's from one of your parents, your spouse or somebody else, only the chart will tell (but of course, for additional info always compare it to your Natal chart!)

If it conjuncts your personal planets in 4th/10th house, you're going to inherit money from either your mom or dad. Erben in 4th house conjuncting one of your planets also talks about inheriting a living property, like a house or an apartament

If it conjuncts your personal planets in 7th house, you're going to inherit money from your spouse. Unless Pluto, the 8th house or prominent death asteroids are also involved (will talk more abt them later), the money is highly likely going to come from a divorce

If it conjuncts Mars/planets in 3rd house, you're going to inherit a car, while if it conjuncts Uranus/planets in 11th house, you're going to inherit a plane (please let me play with it) or tech gadgets

If it conjuncts Jupiter/planets in 2nd house, expect a red warning of heavy cash rain☔💵

(For additional information check: death asteroids - Anubis (1912), Atropos (273), Grieve (4451), Rip (7711); name asteroids of the important people in your life; asteroid Split(12512) in case of divorce)

🏆Asteroid Nobel (6032) - named after Alfred Nobel, Swedish chemist, engineer, inventor, businessman and philanthropist

Having asteroid Nobel (6032) prominent in SR chart indicates a year when you're going to receive an important distinction, award, or maybe even the Nobel itself!

The domain you might receive this award correlates with the planets, North Node and the houses they're in

If it conjuncts Venus, you might be awarded in the fashion industry/beauty industry or in the arts field

If it conjuncts Mars, you might be awarded in sports (especially at violent and competitive sports like karate, box, weightlifting or cars racing) or in the military field

(This is for my STEM peeps) If asteroid Nobel is located in your SR 11th house and is ruled by Virgo, you might win an award/Nobel in physics! In this case, the planet (or even NN) that is conjuncting asteroid Nobel isn't as important as the house and its ruler

Albert Einstein had Nobel conjuncting his North Node in 11th house in 1922 when he received his physics Nobel. And guess what its ruler was...u guessed it♍

(For additional information check: fame asteroids - Fama (408), Varuna (20000), Zdislava (4275); asteroid Einstein (2001) if you've got a passion for physics)

⚔️ Asteroid Hedda (207) - "war/battle" (girl name of Germanic origin)

Having asteroid Hedda (207) prominent in SR chart indicates a year when you're going to be in frequent conflicts with various people and entities, depending on the planet it conjuncts. Your relationship with parents, siblings, friends, lover/spouse, co-workers, public institutions (universities, government etc.), mentors/teachers is at risk if this asteroid is involved

If it conjuncts Moon in 7th house, you're going to be in constant conflict with your mother regarding your romantic relationship. She might not approve of your partner, even though you two love each other💔

If it conjuncts Saturn in 9th house, you're going to be in constant conflict either with your father regarding college (you might want to study literature, but he wants you to become a doctor) or with an university's teacher (he might grade you poorly for no reason when you know you studied all the material)

(For additional information check: victory asteroids (in case you're gonna win these conflicts) - Champion (8732), TRIUMF (14959), Victoria (12); name asteroids of the important people in your life; abuse asteroids (if you got these, i'd suggest you to walk away from that relationship completely) - Adrastaeia (239), Astraea (5), Dejanira (157), Nemesis (128), Nessus (7066))

Take it easy today, don't forget to take some time for yourself and do something you love! Hope you enjoyed!🤍

#astro #astro community #astro placements #astrology #asteroids #astro posts #astro notes #astroblr #astro blog #astrology blog #asteroid erben #asteroid nobel #asteroid hedda #solar return

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the-ninjago-historian · 8 months

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Ninjago: Into The Deep (Master Post, Summary, and Q and A!)

Hello everyone! Thanks for stopping by! If you've been on my blog, you probably know about this upcoming project. But for those of you who don't, what is Ninjago: Into The Deep? I'll tell you! Ninjago: Into The Deep is a fully fleshed out Ninjago fan season inspired by legendary fantasy works such as Narnia, Lord of The Rings, and even classic Disney films and more modern adventure stories like Avatar: The Last Air Bender. Here's the summary!

Things are looking up for the Ninja since their battle with the Crystal King! Jay and Nya have gotten married, Lloyd is now training to become a sensei, and Ninjago City hasn't had a major disaster in over a month! (A new record!) Everything seems to be going well, until the team receives a mysterious letter from Queen Vania, requesting their presence.

Once they arrive, they discover an evil plot, orchestrated by former king Vangelis, to overthrow Vania and take the throne again! And having a taste of conquest while on the Crystal Council, the disgraced monarch has his sights set on the rest of Ninjago as well! Powered by a new energy source, Vangelis is now far too powerful for the Ninja to defeat with their current abilities. They must find a new way to defeat him!

This takes the Ninja on a quest to a new world! The magical and beautiful subterranean kingdom of The Deep Lands! There, they must find the Elemental Beasts. Seven creatures created by the FSM and imbued with elemental powers, to teach the first Elemental Masters how to use their abilities. And who control the very balance of nature itself! From these magical beings, the Ninja will learn new powers and skills that are beyond their wildest dreams, and take down Vangelis once and for all! So join us, as we meet new friends, experience new powers, and journey Into The Deep.🍃🌊🔥🪨❄️🐲⚡

So that's it! I also have some cool concept art that should be finished soon!

Now here's some Q and A to answer all your questions! Some are from one of followers, and others I added in just to give general information. 😁 If you don't see a question being answered that you would like to see answered, please feel free to send it in!

(Under the cut because this is LOOOOOONG.)

First some general info.

Q: How will the episodes be released?

A: Each episode is three chapters long. Therefore, split into three parts. (Kinda like how you would have two commercial breaks in a real episode of Ninjago!) One episode will be released every week! Via a released chapter every Sunday, Wednesday, and Saturday.

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Q: How many episodes will there be?

A: 16-20. About as many a regular season of Ninjago would have!

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Q: What is this series rating?

A: G - PG! I don't do adult humor or gore. So it will be about as kid friendly as a usual Ninjago Season!

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Q: Will there be exclusive characters?

A: Yes! Several! Some including the Elemental Beasts, and even Cole's Grandfather Rocky! More will be released as the series goes on.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Q: Will the season ever be animated?

A: If I aquire the time, resources, and skills, absolutely!

Now, let's answer some questions from one of my followers and awesome friend @dexter-the-dog!

A: Probably the only thing that makes it an Alternate Universe is that Dragons Rising isn't canon to this story. Other than that, it should fit nicely with the canon.

A: YES! The Elemental Beasts! They are so cool! I can't even put it into words! Currently, there are six Elemental Beasts. One for Fire, Water, Earth, Ice, Lightning, and Air. The Air Beast will have a very important role to play in this story! I'm also partial to Cole's Grandfather Rocky, who will also be making an appearance! He's a very interesting guy. And super powerful too! After all, he fought the Serpentine and the Time Twins! So he has quite a few tricks up his sleeve!

A: As Doc would say, #NoSpoilers! Lol! But there is a really cool scene were Nya uses her powers in a new way! It should be EPIC. So cool in fact, I just might animate it!

A: Ah! I can answer both of these! Since Into The Deep is a fan season, it will try to fit into the canon as closely as possible. That being said, the characters are exactly as you would see them in the canon show. No backgrounds or roles changed. But whether they will gain new abilities or new roles? Well that I can't say without spoiling things.

A: It's definitely the Cole x Vania story I have planned. Lol. Yeah, I ship them. I think they're cute. And they'll have plenty of cute moments in this story!

A: Into The Deep happens about a month or two after Crystalized. :)

A: I've been waiting to answer this one! The Elemental Beasts take on a mentor role for each of their appointed ninja. They will help them learn new abilities and fight their inner demons to truly become their most powerful selves. They're also are basically Nature Spirits. Each one controls a certain element in nature from their base kingdoms in the Deep Lands. Because of this, they can never leave to go up to the surface, or the balance would be offset. This factor is important, so make sure you remember it while reading.

And that's all the questions I got! That was fun!

Before I end this post, I'm gonna tag a few people I remember being interested in this thing! (@rinkunokoisuru @shatteredhope123 @miraculous-stud @nocturnal-nexu @dexter-the-dog) Hope you guys enjoy all this info! And thank you for all your love and support. It's really kept me going.😁🫶

Well, that's all for now! Keep an eye out for updates! And I'll see you around! Bye! - ✒️🐉

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usedtobethelegendcreator · 2 months

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Okay, Pinterest has irritated me, so here I go.

I keep seeing posts of people saying Alastor and Valentino are equally bad, and I’m here to say: yes, but actually no.

See, here’s the thing.

Valentino abuses his workers. He physically abuses Angel and acts like a pervert. He throws huge, violent tantrums when things don’t go his way—remember his hissy fit in “Radio Killed The Video Star”? Also…he licks up Charlie’s arm. Ew.

Valentino is a creep. So is Alastor. But Alastor is not the same kind of creep.

Here’s the thing with Alastor—we only see two of his underlings, Husk and Niffty. The other beings he summons seem to be his puppets. So, what did he force these two to do?

Husk is a bartender in a hotel now. Niffty didn’t even wait for orders, she just started cleaning everything.

Neither are being forced to have their bodies violated.

Hell, even in the pilot, people keep forgetting what Husk said. “You think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze? Well, you can!”

From what Husk says in the first episode, the worst parts of his new job are listening to the others “bitch and moan”. And, well, it’s working at a hotel with, at most, six other people in it. It’s not the end of the world.

And, if everyone stopped looking for ways to make the show even more traumatic…you’d see that, at least on-screen, the most Alastor did to Husk was threaten him.

That whole scene was strange in its own way. Husk warns Alastor that Mimzy means trouble. Alastor tells him to calm tf down, he’s got it handled. Husk brings up his absence. Alastor tells him, again, not to worry. Husk gets pissed off because Alastor rubbed his head like you would a cat, and says he isn’t a pet. Alastor says “But you are, haha!” Then Husk brings up the leash Alastor is on.

If Husk has been working for Alastor as long as people think he has, then he should probably know that disrespect is a big no-no. Like, he could have chosen to not bring that specific thing up. Alastor wasn’t pissed until Husk said that. And even then…what did he do, really?

Sure, he had that villain speech. He threatened to tear Husk’s soul apart if he ever said that again. He brought out Husk’s chain and pulled him to the floor. He went mid-demon for a split second. He pointed his microphone at Husk.

But, other than the chain, Husk wasn’t physically hurt.

Angel’s breakdown took a whole episode and two musical numbers. Husk was perfectly fine and eating popcorn in, at most, ten minutes.

Because, as Alastor said in the pilot, “If I wanted to hurt anyone here, I would have done so already.” Husk knows it’s an empty threat because he isn’t currently dead. His soul isn’t currently being torn apart. Yeah, he was shaking on the floor—but who wouldn’t when faced with that, no matter how safe you may or may not be?

So, yes. Alastor and Valentino are both horrible people. They’re both creeps. But, taking what we see on-screen…Alastor is a better Overlord, at least. Come on. Do you think Valentino would let his underlings put a crown of twigs and dead roaches on him?

And, as you all know, Alastor does have morals. No one knows what they are, but they’re there.

Side note: I feel like everyone’s forgetting what usually happens in a serial killer’s process. Yeah, Alastor did kill people, but he didn’t rape them before or after. So, he’s at least got the ‘not as much of a horrible person as you could have been’ award. And as for Hell…people are killing each other in Hell all the time. Duh. It’s Hell. Alastor is remarkable because he killed Overlords, not because he killed.

#alastor #valentino #husk #angel dust #hazbin hotel #analysis #yeah Alastor is a horrible person #but there’s a reason Valentino has his own diss episode #hazbin overlords #in other words if you have a choice between the Vees and the Radio Demon #pick the Radio Demon #meta

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birinboom · 6 months

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Kirishima Comes Home To Reader Drunk Off His Ass

Kirishima Eijirou x GN Reader

Tags: Established relationships, alcohol consumption, pet names (Reader calls Kiri ‘honey’, Kiri calls Reader ‘babe’), fluff, spice 🌸 832 words

A/N: This drabble actually belongs to a Kiri x OC fic I’m working on. Not sure if I’ll ever manage to finish it enough to even post the first chapter so I rewrote this part to fit a GN Reader. If I left in any fem pronouns please let me know!

You were jerked out of your sleep when the front door slammed, then someone shushed it loudly.

Groaning at the rude awakening, you rolled over to check the time. Eijirou was finally home from his agency’s New Year’s celebration, and it sounded like he was drunk off his ass. Turning on the bedside lamp, you got up with a heavy sigh; when he got this drunk he usually needed help getting into bed. Thankfully you only had to deal with his drunk, stubborn ass once or twice a year.

You found him sitting on the floor by the entryway, trying - and failing - at pulling his shoes off.

“Hey,” you mumbled, rubbing your face.

Eijirou looked up at you with a bright, toothy smile. “Hiya!”

Crouching next to him, you pointed at his shoes. “Y’know it might work better if you untied them first.”

“Oh.”

“Do you need help?”

“Naw, I got this!”

He finally managed to get his shoes off and got to his feet, swaying. You eyed him suspiciously. “How much did you drink?”

“Jus’ a lil’ bit. About… thiiiis much!” he giggled, holding his thumb and index finger up about two millimeters apart.

You sighed again, looping an arm around his back. “You’re such a pain when you’re drunk.”

“Am not! At least I don’t get angerey, like Ba-*hic*-hakugou.”

“Mhm. Let’s get you to bed, honey.”

He shushed you. “We gotta be quiet, my partner’s prob’ly asleep.”

You couldn’t help but smile. This was the first time he had been drunk enough to not recognize you. “Is that so?”

“Yeah! They need their sleep, they work wa-hay too hard.” He let out another giggle. “They’re super-super-duper cute when they sleep. Have you ever met them?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well, you should!”

When the two of you made it to the bedroom, Eijirou flopped down on the bed, then pointed at the oversized Red Riot shirt you were wearing. “Hey, that’s me!! I didn’t realize you were a fan!”

You had trouble hiding your smirk. “One might even say I’m your biggest fan.”

“Oh, cool! It’s nice to meet ya.”

“Yeah, likewise.” You reached for his belt buckle but he pushed your hands away.

“Whoa, what are you doing?!”

“C’mon, Ei, I wanna go back to sleep. You’re gonna get too warm if you keep your jeans on.”

You reached out again, but this time he grabbed onto your wrists, keeping them away from him. “I don’t want--”

“Ei, stop. That’s not what I’m trying to--”

“No! I’m sure you’re a very, v-very nice person, but I really love my partner!”

“Ei, I AM your partner.”

He blinked up at you for a moment, then his face split into a brilliant grin. “Oh hey, babe! When did you get here?”

You had to fight not to laugh at his change of mood. If you did, he’d never agree to go to sleep.

“I’ve been here all night,” you said.

“Really? D’you know who runs this place? ‘Cos the service here is terrible. One of the staaffff won’t stop hitting on me even though I keep saying no.”

You pulled your hands out of his grip and reached for his belt again. “How awful. Let’s get you to bed.”

“I’d love to, babe, but I think I’m a teensy bit too drunk for that.”

You finally managed to pull his pants off. Straddling him, you set to work on the buttons of his dress shirt. He sat up and kissed you sloppily, one hand at the back of your head, the other kneading your behind. The rank taste of old alcohol filled your mouth.

“I thought you were too drunk for that,” you coughed when he finally let you breathe.

“Well… I can give it a try since you keep in-- insssh-- inshisishting.”

You pushed the dress shirt over his shoulders, leaving him in a white t-shirt. “I’d rather not. Just go to sleep already.”

“Only if you join me!” Wrapping strong arms around you, he let himself fall backwards with yet another giggle. He started pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses against your neck then abruptly stopped.

“Ei?”

You were met with a soft snore. Sighing once more, you shuffled around in his tight grip to turn off the lights and pull the covers over the two of you. He really was the worst, most endearing drunk.

When you got up the next morning, Eijirou was still fast asleep. As soon as you left the bed, he reached out for you. When he couldn’t find you, he instead grabbed your pillow, burrowing his face into it. You heard him mumbling something about a teapot battle.

Checking up on him an hour later, a bottle of water and painkillers in hand, you found him with your pillow thrown over his face. He shifted the pillow a smidge, glancing up at you with blurry, red-rimmed eyes.

“Could you tell the sun to shut up?” he wheezed, voice gravelly. “‘S too loud for me.”

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks (on and off anon) are always greatly appreciated! If you like, you can check out my other works here. Love, Em 💖

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kirishima #eijirou #eijiro #x reader #x you #gn reader #established relationships #tw: alcohol #fluff #spice #drabble #drabbles

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serenefreakgeekao3 · 8 months

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Fear of Falling

CHAPTER TWO [Masterlist]

Pairing: Hiccup x ftm!reader

Summary: You and Hiccup have begun to get closer- to something even resembling friendship. What happens, then, when complications get thrown into the mix? Complications namely being Hiccup’s close acquaintances, who seem a little too invested in getting to know you.

Tags: carpenter!reader, awkward!Hiccup, meeting friends, mutual pining

Warnings: slight bullying, mention of transphobia at the end of the chapter, tales of a bad family life (for reader)

Author’s Note: This is when the whole ftm thing comes into play! At the end of the chapter, reader tells Hiccup his life story, essentially, where reader was disowned by his family. If this will hurt you in any way, feel free to not read, or skip the final part after Hiccup receives his gift! Sorry for the sad backstory, but it’s only for a small section! (Also, sorry it took so long for me to post this part, but if you notice its literally like twice as long as my first part. Unintentional, but it felt weird to try to split it up into two chapters. It flows easier this way!)

Words: 12552

“So where’s your dragon?”

The question catches you off guard, startling and turning to look at Hiccup’s curious face. It’s been a month since you claimed this land, and with the help of Hiccup and Skullgar your home is finally standing and all in one piece. You were settling in, moving furniture around until you felt comfortable with the positions and placing your few belongings in their proper places. It was a small hut, one story and one bedroom. A fireplace crackled on one side of the room, half of the building made into a nice living area while the other half almost resembled a shop. You had a long bar with stools, shelves for your tools, and currently sitting on the edge of the bar was the first piece you finished whittling. It wasn’t bad, actually. A little rough around the edges, but a small dragon- not based on any that you’ve seen for yourself, just carved from your imagination- that is big enough to fit in your hand sat there and watched over the whole proceeding.

“What?” You took too long to answer, but you didn’t know exactly what to say. You avoided the topic of the dragons for a long while- impressively, might you add, since dragons are apparently Hiccup’s lifeblood. You didn’t mind talking about them in a general sense, or hearing whatever happened in town. But if he was to ask about you flying, or where your dragon was, you were able to deftly change the subject. Maybe that’s why he decided to catch you off guard. He almost had a smug look about him, the kind of face that made you want to smush his cheeks together until he laughed.

“Your dragon. I sort of assumed that once your home was finished and the rest of the builders moved on- I don’t know, that maybe they’d be willing to settle down? I tried to make a nice nest outside for them, but I wasn’t sure about their size. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen them before.” Hiccup continued as if it’s the most obvious thing ever, to claim a dragon. To have a lifelong companion such as that. As if the thought of not having one was unimaginable.

“I don’t have one,” You mumbled, turning back toward the shelf to unnecessarily fidget with a vase you were given by Gobber. You spun it a few times, then realizing that did nothing you began to push it a tad to the left, then back to the right.

“What?” You have a talent for confusing Hiccup, that tone in his voice is practically familiar to you now. “What do you mean you don’t have one?”

“I mean that I don’t have one.” You nod, turning to look at him, eyebrows raised. “It’s not that uncommon you know.”

“No, but-” Hiccup breaks off, holding out a hand toward you. His confusion began to mix with worry. “What do you mean- but you live all the way out here?” You hadn’t heard anything more about this location being unsafe from Hiccup since that first day, and you had figured he’d just drop it. It’s not like it should matter much to him anyway.

“Yes, I know. I chose the spot.” You tried to laugh, but it came out more as an awkward chuckle. “You were there, y’know.”

“No- I mean, yes I know I was there but-” Hiccup turns frustrated, looking away from you and scanning the air as if it held an answer for him. He runs a hand through his hair, flopping it around on his head before he throws his hand back outward. “You live all the way on the outskirts! If something happened to you, no one in town would be able to know. No one would hear, there wouldn’t be anyone to- to come and-” He huffed again, grabbing his hair roughly. The entire time he speaks he seems almost to be arguing with himself in his head. “I know you can take care of yourself, but against a dragon?” He finally turns his face to you, with almost a look of desperation. “What if they tame a dragon and attack from above? Pick off the people on the outside first, you can’t fight a dragon and their rider by yourself! You can’t outrun a dragon! What would-”

“Hiccup,” You try to interrupt, having moved close enough to reach a hand out to press lightly against his arm. It still, miraculously, works somehow. “I’ll be okay.”

“But you need a dragon,” Hiccup whines out, practically pouting at you. “They- they mean so much-”

“I know you love all of the dragons here, Hiccup,” You begin, your voice quieting, “But not everyone feels so intrinsically tied to dragons like you. Not everyone can bond with them as easily as you.” You shrug, trying for a smile but probably missing the mark, “There hasn’t been one to find me yet.”

“Well, if they can’t find you then we can find them, come on!” He takes your hand and immediately tries to pull you to the door. In the few times he’s taken your hand, you’ve always followed. This is the first time that you hold your ground, unmoving. Hiccup doesn’t pull, or tug. He turns, confused at your reluctance.

“I don’t-” You take a breath, shaking your head, “If I go out looking for one and can’t find one I’ll just be disappointed and heartbroken. I’ve met every single dragon on this island at least once, whether they had a rider or not. None of them have taken to me, Hiccup.” You turn bashful, pulling your hand away and crossing your arms, pulling them close to you. “If there’s a dragon out there for me, they’ll find me.”

“That seems like a fantasy, [y/n]” Hiccup begins, shaking his head and closing the gap once more. “We can try.”

“It’s fine, Hiccup.” You repeat, looking up at him with a sad smile. “I’m used to being alone.”

You turn away after this, missing the complete devastation that crosses Hiccup’s face. He shakes his head, mouth working with nothing to come out. He doesn’t know what to say to that, unable to voice how he feels. He’s never been the best with words, always sketching or trying to express his feelings through flying. At that thought he calms, brain working a mile a minute as his eyes flicker back and forth, unseeing.

“Come flying with me.”

You turn, confused at the sudden outburst. By the time you see his face again, his attention is still focused entirely on you, a wide smile stretching across his face. He bounds the few feet toward you that you had moved away, taking both of your hands with glee. “Hiccup, I-” You begin, shaking your head, but he just interrupts.

“Come flying with me, [y/n]! It’ll be great! I know you don’t have a dragon to fly on, but we can both be on Toothless. It’s so amazing, please, you have to experience it!” You laugh at his enthusiasm, almost blown away by the force of it. With your laugh coloured in disbelief, you begin to shake your head.

“Hiccup, I just said I don’t want to go looking for a dragon-”

“This isn’t about that!” Hiccup tries to convince you, shaking your hands slightly. “Flying is-” His mouth works as he tries to find the words, shaking his head, “You just have to try it, at least once!” You laugh again, shaking your head.

“I did try it once.”

“What?” Hiccup ducks closer, and you feel your brain malfunction for a split second. Why does he have to be so close? Was he always this physical?

“I’ve flown once.” Hiccup looks adorably confused, so you continue your point. “During the move. I told you, I’m not new here, but I was new to the old Berk. I lived there a month before suddenly everyone was packing house and moving on their dragons. I was apprenticing under Skullgar and, once he found out I had no dragon and was planning to just sail away to find somewhere else to live, offered up Grimrar as a ride. His family planned to ride his wife’s dragon and use Grimrar to transport their possessions. There was a bit of room for me to squeeze in.”

Hiccup’s confused face was adorably scrunchy, you decided. “But, wait,” He leans back slightly, shaking his head. “Transporting things and transporting people require completely different saddles. That would’ve been extremely dangerous…” Hiccup trailed off, refusing to believe your story.

“No, that’s true. Grimrar had the transport saddle on his back, I was squeezed between a couple of boxes and kind of held on for dear life. It was the longest day of my life, actually. Felt like it, anyway.” You smile, able to laugh about it now that the soul-crushing fear is no longer gripping your heart.

“That-” Hiccup scoffs, shaking his head. “No, that’s not true flying.”

“Well, I was technically on a dragon, and that dragon was in the air. Very, very high in the air-”

“No, that’s just dangerous- anyone would be scared of that!” Hiccup pulled on your still-connected hands, looking into your eyes earnestly. “Let me take you flying. Toothless will be so gentle-”

“Hiccup,”

“No, listen! It’s fantastic, [y/n]! It’s- it’s indescribable!”

“Hiccup, I’m afraid of it!” You sigh, shaking your head and pulling your hands back.

“Afraid of heights? But-”

“Afraid of falling, mind you.”

“You won’t fall!”

“You can’t promise that.” You turn once again, taking a new block of wood and the whittling knife that Hiccup gave you two months ago. Was it really only two months? You sat down on a stool in a huff, striking the first notch into the wood. Hiccup was quiet again, which honestly rarely happened now. You glance back up to see disappointment across his face, feeling a pang of guilt in your chest at the sight. “I’m sorry, Hiccup.”

“I can promise that if you fall we’ll catch you.” Hiccup’s voice was so serious, meaning every word he said. He took a step closer to you on your stool but maintained a proper distance still. The open window behind him framed him in an almost ethereal sunset-orange light. “Either Toothless, or me. We’ll catch you.” You felt hard-pressed not to believe him.

“That’d still require me to fall. Which is the part I’m scared of.” His shoulders fell at your insistence, glancing away from you and staring off into space. The room is filled with the sounds of your whittling and the fire crackling to the side, a comfortable silence only bellied by the discomfort of having to disappoint the guy you’re falling for. Hiccup turns and leans against the bar next to you, tapping his hands along it. The taps stop and you look up to see him fiddling with something in his hands just out of sight.

“Well,” He begins quietly, and you quickly lower your gaze back to your project. “If you ever change your mind, I’m always here.”

“You really are,” You begin to joke, smirking down at the slowly dwindling wood block in your hand. “Almost like I can’t get rid of you.” Hiccup laughs, thankfully, at your joke, not taking it too seriously.

“Well, just trying to shirk my chiefly duties, as you always say. Hide away from the clamouring.”

“Well, keep it up and they’ll know exactly where to find you. Then your point would be moot.”

“Not if we went flying together. Then they’d never be able to find us.” You feel your smile slipping, lifting your eyes once more to him. He was already staring back at you, determination set in his eyes. You’d only seen that once before, two months ago, and now you have a proper house to thank him for.

“They have tracking dragons,” You try to counter, smirking at him gently, “You trained them yourself, you know.” Hiccup lets the moment settle, half a minute of comforting silence between the two of you before turning away and sighing dramatically, throwing his arms out to the side.

“Woe be me! Forever and always, stuck as Chief and-”

“Hiccup!”

The feminine yell startles you, jumping hard and turning to face your front door. You try to calm your racing heart, turning and placing the sharp knife down before you accidentally hurt yourself. Your door flies open with a slam, Astrid striding into your home with an air of determination and aggravation. She glares at you before stalking around your home, in search of the man who has suddenly and mysteriously disappeared from your side. “Where is he?”

“Who?” You play dumb, visibly roaming your eyes around the room. “I assume you’re not asking after me?”

“You know who I’m talking about,” Astrid grumbles, lifting a couch cushion and looking under it as if Hiccup could’ve possibly hidden there. She places it back down, pressing it back into place before moving on. Just as forcefully she yells his name again, causing you to jump once more before sighing loudly.

“Look, I can honestly say I have no clue where Hiccup is.” You raise your hands in defence, raising your eyebrows and shrugging toward her. She turns to you with the full force of her glare, one hand on her cocked hip.

“Uh-huh. And can you ‘honestly say’ you didn’t know where he was ten seconds before I marched into your house?” You hesitate, then shrug at this. “Yeah, thought so.” She starts looking up at the rafters, twisting around in search of him. “Where’s your stairs? Or ladder?”

“It’s one story, Astrid. You see everything-” You are cut off by her throwing open your bedroom door, sighing loudly. You place your elbows against the bar behind you, leaning back and waiting. By the time she comes back, closing the door behind her, she marches directly up to you.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know, Astrid.” You repeat, sighing. “What’s wrong anyway?”

“Where could he have gone, if he was just here a second ago, hm? He has to be hiding somewhere.” She doesn’t bother to answer your question, looking around once more as if he’d suddenly spring into existence behind the potted plant you were given by Skullgar’s wife.

“I honestly don’t know Astrid, alright? We were talking one second, then you screamed louder than a Thunderdrum and by the time I turned around he was gone.” You huff, motioning toward the window, “If anything he could’ve just dove through the window and been halfway back to New Berk by now.” At this Astrid turns, inspecting the window as if it offended her before she sighs, turning to you with her hands on her hips.

“What do you want with Hiccup?” You raise your eyebrows, glancing around the room in confusion.

“I’m sorry?”

“Why do you keep hanging around Hiccup all the time? I’ve had to come pull him away from you fifty times in the last month! I don’t even think I’ve seen you before in my entire life until I found you with him.” She walks closer, narrowing her eyes. “I swear to Thor if you’re a spy for those damn hunters, I’ll rip your throat out myself.” Your eyebrows continue to raise as she speaks, finally raising your hands up in defence.

“Hey, what? I don’t want anything from him! I just wanted to live my life peacefully, he’s the one who decided to take an interest in me.” She points at your chest, gearing up for another round, but you cut in quickly. “And I’m not a hunter! I swear it, I would never harm a dragon unless it was self-defence. And I never have! Hurt one before, I mean.”

“Then why don’t you have a dragon?”

“Because none of them chose me? I don’t know, ask them!” You huff an angry sigh, crossing your arms. “I’m not trying to go out and force them into liking me! Seems a bit inhumane.” She glares at you for a moment longer before backing up a few steps and crossing her arms in a mimic of you.

“Oh yeah? Then why does no one know who you are? Why hasn’t anyone heard of you before?”

“I don’t know?” You fold in on yourself, shaking your head. “Maybe you’re asking the wrong people? I don’t talk much and I keep to myself, usually. If you asked your little rider buddies, that’d be why none of them know me.” Astrid quietly takes this in, seeming to at least believe your words for the time being. “If you want someone likely to know me then ask any of the other carpenters; Odin willing, even ask Gobber! The man’s known me since my first steps onto the docks of the old Berk.”

“Gobber knows you?”

“Yes, Gobber knows me. He knows my whole story. I tried to apprentice under him, but he said he was full up. Introduced me to Skullgar instead.” Astrid remains quiet, eyeing me up. Eventually, she takes a step forward, threateningly pointing a finger toward you.

“Look, if you hurt him-”

“I’m not gonna’ hurt your boyfriend, Astrid.” You interrupt her, shaking your head as you turn away to grab your knife and whittling project once more, angrily taking a swipe at it. “I’d never do anything against my own Chief.” You miss the look of confusion on Astrid’s face, only hearing it in her reply.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You glance up toward her with disbelief, taking another angry slice of wood. “Is that what he said?”

“Sorry then, your ‘husband’ I guess. We don’t talk about you. Or any of his Chief stuff. He just comes to me to-” You huff, shaking your head and looking up at her. “I don’t know why he comes here, ok? Ask him. I’m sorry if it pokes a hole in all of your little plans, but-”

“He’s not mine in any way,” Astrid repeats, crossing her arms. “And if he’s given you that impression then that’s another reason to kick his ass.”

“There’s been no impression-giving of any kind, at least not from him.” You look back to your project, swiping again. “I don’t know anything that happens around here, I just hear rumours.”

“Who-” Astrid is interrupted by three sharp knocks on your front door, and you glance up to see Hiccup standing in the still-open doorway, leaning slightly more to one side and giving an awful impression of a smile.

“Wow! Astrid! Didn’t expect to see you here!” He laughs awkwardly, as if forcing the sound out of his mouth is a struggle. “I was just coming to ask [y/n] here a couple of construction questions. For tomorrow’s workload. You know, Chief things.” He does that awkward laugh again, his eyes bouncing to you for a few seconds before forcing himself to look directly at Astrid. She’s now turned toward him with her glare and her crossed arms, unimpressed.

“Uh-huh. And just where were you, then?”

“I was out. Y’know, in Berk. Wandering around. Doing… Chiefly things.” He stumbles over his answer, shifting his weight from foot to foot. You felt your shoulders slowly relaxing with the spotlight no longer being on you.

“Oh, really? So you talked to Gobber then?”

“Oh, yeah! Of course! I totally did that!”

“So what did he need done then, Hiccup?” You look up to see Hiccup’s eyes widen in fright, his mouth working for an answer that his brain wasn’t providing.

“Look,” You call out to them, feeling uneasy with both sets of eyes suddenly turning toward you. “Not that I don’t thoroughly enjoy the company, but if you’re going to argue about things I shouldn’t be privy to know, perhaps you should take this back to Berk?”

“Good idea,” Astrid mumbles, striding forward and roughly taking hold of Hiccup by the bicep, beginning to pull him out. He leaves his attention on you, even as he’s dragged backwards, and he throws a smile your way that shocks the breath out of you. He mouths out the words ‘Thank you’ before bumping his head against the door accidentally. He turns with a yelp of pain, rubbing the back of his head before remembering to grab your door and close it behind the both of them.

It takes a while of sitting on that stool, whittling to your heart's content, before you finally manage to unwind the knot that Astrid had wound up inside of you. You always figured Hiccup’s constant attention on you would lead to some bad news, but you weren’t prepared for his girlfriend- or, rather, his second-in-command to charge into your new home demanding answers you didn’t have. And what was about that? Why was she so adamant that they weren’t together? You thought it was a known thing, something inarguably certain among the Vikings here. Wasn’t Hiccup being pressured to marry before the whole town decided to pack up and move?

You shake your head, trying your best to dispel the thoughts of Astrid and Hiccup from your brain. Surely there’s something here to distract yourself with. You turn toward the bar, reaching to grab your little whittled dragon when you notice instead its disappearance. Checking the floor around the bar, you can't seem to find it. Well, it's gotta be around here somewhere, right?

“You think that’s him?”

You pulled back your hammer, taking in a breath and letting it fly down onto the nail. You were currently helping build the leatherworking shop that Hiccup would most likely take over, nailing boards to the floor. You hadn’t bent a single nail yet this day- a new record! You just hope you can keep it that way.

“Shh, your obnoxious voice is gonna’ give us away!”

“If anyone’s voice is obnoxious it’s yours!”

You could hear some whispered bickering behind you, but you knew it wasn’t aimed toward you. The voices sounded eerily similar, though differing slightly in pitch. You couldn’t quite place them. You pull another nail from the collection hanging between your lips for easy access, holding it in place and taking another swing downward. Another success.

“But how do we know it’s actually him, though?”

“I don’t know, he’s our age and looks handsome enough. That’s what Hiccup said right?”

You almost drop the spare nails, saving yourself from choking on a surprise cough at the mention of Hiccup. Curiosity begins to burn in your stomach, but you can do this. Not everything you do has to be centered around that man. (As if you weren’t currently helping to build his shop- but that didn’t count, you were assigned to be here… Out of the three choices that Skullgar gave you.)

“Is he handsome? I can’t really tell, nothing compares to my beauty.”

“Keep telling yourself that, troll snot.”

“Ow, hey!”

You heard a bit of a scuffle behind you, sucking in a deep breath through your nose and placing the second-to-last nail against the floorboard. Did these people really think they were being quiet? Who were they talking about, saying Hiccup found someone handsome?

“Shhh!” One whisper yelled toward the other, stumbling being heard as one fell to the floor. “You’re going to give away our position!”

“You’re the one who punched me first!”

“We’re on a mission, get it together!”

The last nail is held in place- just hammer this one in and you have the perfect excuse to turn around and peek at whoever is making a ruckus behind you. You lift the hammer, ready to slam it down-

“What was his name again, [y/n]?”

You miss your mark, slamming the hammer down onto the side of your hand instead of the nail, yelping out in pain and dropping the hammer in shock. You shake your hand out, turning immediately to look behind you for the source of your name. Unexpectedly, you spy a couple people around your age that you know to be of the same group of dragon riders that go out on rescue missions with Hiccup sometimes. They look similar- you were mostly sure they were twins- with blonde hair and blue eyes that were set wide and locked directly onto you. The three of you stared at each other for a few beats too long before they both ducked at the same time, trying to hide behind the foundation of the building you were currently kneeling on. You shake your head in confusion, calling out a soft, “Hello? Can I help you?”

“I told you you were too loud-”

“Shut it!”

“Ow-”

“Hey,” You call out again, raising your voice slightly to talk over their bickering, “I can hear you, you know.” You watch as they both slowly raise their heads back up, peaking at you over the floorboards. “You said my name?”

“Well,” The boy began, placing a hand on the floor and hoisting himself up to your level, “We’ve heard a lot about you.” He walks over to where you still knelt down, plopping down next to you and raising an arm to rest against your shoulder. “There’s only so much you can hear about a guy you don’t know before you go mad.”

“Mad with curiosity,” The girl huffed, climbing up onto the floor herself and plopping down in front of you. You lean away from the guy next to you, causing his arm to fall off your shoulder as you look uncertainly between them.

“Someone’s been talking about me?”

“Yeah, Hiccup can’t shut up about you,” The guy insists, and you slowly lower yourself to a sitting position instead of kneeling, getting a bit more comfortable. The girl chimes in, waving her hand around with emphasis.

“Well, technically Astrid brought you up first. She kept asking him about you, then asked us if we knew you-”

“Which we didn’t-”

“But once everyone began to find out that Hiccup’s little hideaway was with you-”

“We thought he kept going out flying with Toothless again-”

“Then he began to get a lot more vocal about you.”

“How skilful you are at carving, how you were homeless and that was just ‘unacceptable’!” The girl snorted a laugh at her brother mimicking Hiccup's voice on the last word, nodding along.

“At least he hadn’t lied about your looks though,” The girl continued, wiggling her eyebrows toward you. Unconsciously you began to lean slightly backward, tilting your head at the two. You finally found your voice, talking slowly and trying to understand the constant back-and-forth.

“I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Oh?” The guy begins with a grin, leaning close into your space, “Is there another carpenter around here that’s our age and goes by the name [y/n]?” You feel your cheeks begin to heat up, looking between the two.

“I feel like I’m at a disadvantage,” You begin, slowly once again. “You both seem to know so much about me and I don’t even know your names.”

“Tuffnut,” The guy blurted out, finally leaning back away from your personal space, placing his hands behind him to prop himself up.

“Ruffnut,” The girl followed up, pointing at herself. She still had a crazy sort of grin on, and you wondered if that was her attempt at being friendly? Or flirting? Either way, she completely missed the mark as you just grew more and more uncomfortable.

“Right,” You begin, looking uneasily between the two of them. “You are the dragon riders that Hiccup goes out with sometimes, right?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tuffnut interjects, pointing a finger at you. “We're security here. We take regular patrols, keep an eye out for the baddies.”

“Everyone keeps an eye out for baddies, Tuffnut,” Ruffnut sighs hopelessly at her brother, then turns her attention back to you with a grin, placing her hands in front of her and scooting herself closer. “We don't have big, strong jobs like yours.” She bats her eyelashes at you, and before you know it you feel yourself scrambling to stand, backing away from them both.

“Alright, well it's been great, but-”

“What? Where are you going so fast?” Ruffnut asks, trying to pout at you. You just shake your head, bending over to grab your hammer and place it in the loop on your apron.

“Work- Uh, carpentry things, y'know.” You take a few steps back, watching Tuffnut stroke his braids like a beard, and Ruffnut huff as if irritated. You throw a hand up, your thumb pointing behind you. “Gotta’ get the… The wood-” Unable to find any words to properly explain your exit, you just give up, turning and walking away from the two.

What in Odin’s name just happened…?

It's certainly peaceful here, you think to yourself. You're walking along the cliff's edge, but far enough away that the drop doesn't send you into a panic. You hear birds chirping, the trills of content dragons, and a low murmuring of people going about their daily lives. You aren't too close to the town, but you could still see it where you stood.

You hadn't seen Hiccup for about a week now, which felt a little weird. It had gotten to a point that he came to visit you daily, so now bereft of his company, you felt a pang of loneliness. It was fine though, you were sure he was doing something important.

You are taking one of your small daily breaks, just taking a peaceful stroll and people-watching. You turn to look at the horizon, water as far as the eye could see.

FIRE

You gasp loudly and stumble back as a ball of fire is suddenly hurtling at top speeds, upward from below the cliff. You fall onto your butt, looking up with wide eyes as the fire begins to hover in the air in front of you. Not a ball of fire- a dragon, coated completely in it. The dragon shakes violently and the fire subsides, leaving the bright red scales and long neck of a Monstrous Nightmare.

Then you notice the man sitting on its back, who suddenly calls down to you.

“You think you're tough, huh?”

You press a hand to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart. You suck in a deep breath, shaking your head at him. You push yourself to stand just as the dragon flies over the cliff, landing down and lowering its head for the man to climb down. You look up- no, down, at this man. He was… kinda short?

“I heard you're a tough guy,” The man continues, taking a few steps forward to poke his finger at your chest. “Well, sucks to be you, ‘cause I'm the toughest guy here.”

“O-kay?” You say, or question, drawing out the vowels. You scrunch your eyebrows together, looking the man up and down. “I'm sorry, do I know you?”

“You should!” He calls out, pressing his fists against his sides. “‘Cause if Hiccup ever fails at being Chief, then I'm going to be the one stepping up to the plate!”

“But,” You hesitate, unsure if you want to argue your point.

“But what?” He shoots back immediately, eyes widened at you. “You think I can't do it?”

“It's not that,” You trail off, tilting your head curiously. “But, wouldn't Astrid step up to be Chief then? Or even Hiccup's mother? I've heard she's around here somewhere.”

“I'll let you know, Valka is actually one hundred percent on board with me being Chief! She loves me!” You purse your lips at this, feeling like it's inaccurate but unable to argue it.

“Alright, well.” You take a small step back, just trying to gain some distance between you and the small man. “It's a good thing I met you then if you'll be Chief someday.” You just play into his antics, hoping his aggression would die down.

“Snotlout!” He yells out, and you flinch at the volume so close to the man.

“Uh, bless you?” You scratch the back of your head, confused.

“No, it's- Ugh, it's my name!” He takes a step forward, closing the distance once again to poke your chest once more. “And you better remember it!” You raise your hands placatingly, nodding your head.

“Of course, yeah, no problem, big guy.” You watch a pleased grin stretch across his face before hearing your name called out behind you. You've never been so grateful for Skullgar than in that moment. “Oh, looks like I'm being called to work. I'll, uh, see you around?” Without waiting for a reply, you spin and start a light jog back to the work area. You hear one last thing from Snotlout, yelling as you gain distance.

“You owe me an arm wrestle!”

You approach slowly, both hands up and in front of you; one holding a sponge frothing with soap, the other a wet washcloth. You take careful steps- this time, anyway, since normal steps apparently didn't work last time- and try to close the distance between the sponge and Grimrar. The dragon eyed you suspiciously, his giant body coated in a purple dust that causes him to sneeze once more.

“Now, just hold still. This will only take a second…” You trail off, taking another step closer before Grimrar’s eyes widen, kicking off the ground and bucking around wildly. You try to dodge an errand wing, windmilling your arms to try to catch yourself before suddenly you fall onto your backside, groaning.

“Why did Skullgar think this was a good idea…?” You complain under your breath, inspecting your arms and wiping some of that purple dust off of you.

“I think you'll have a lot better luck if you approach from the front.” A kind voice startles you, so it takes a few moments for the words to sink in. You turn to see a rather portly Viking, blond-haired and smiling. He was currently leaning forward against Skullgar’s fenceline, looking between you and the dragon.

“Uh, sorry?” You ask, standing and holding the wet sponge and washcloth out, away from your clothes.

“Grimrar, there. If you wanna’ catch him by surprise, it'd be better to approach directly from the front. A blind spot, y'know? Because his eyes are on the side of his head.” The man moves his hands to either side of his head as an indication, and you turn to take a better look at the dragon for yourself.

“Huh,” You huff out, nodding back toward him. “That's really smart- and helpful. Thank you.” You nod toward him, looking back to Grimrar as you try to circle around. Unsurprisingly, he's grown wary and suspicious of you, turning his head to keep you in his eyeline. “Well, that can't be helped I guess.” You huff again, kneeling down into a crouch to take stock of the situation.

“By the way, the name's Fishlegs,” The kind man continues, hopping the fence and beginning to take slow but confident steps toward Grimrar. “I'm one of Hiccup's friends.” I groan, just barely catching myself from facepalming into the sponge in my hand. Huffing, I stand and look toward him warily.

“You're not here to threaten me, are you?” I ask hesitantly, moving back toward the bucket to dip the sponge back in. “Or flirt? One of them did that too.”

“Probably Ruffnut,” Fishlegs guessed accurately, “She's a bit of a wild card. I wouldn't be too worried about her, though, her main focus is on Eret, ‘son of Eret.’” He's now right next to Grimrar, and to your delight, the dragon hasn't bucked once. Fishlegs reaches up, petting the top of its snout before reaching under with the other hand to give scritches to its chin. You're unsure what you've just watched, but Grimrar enjoyed the petting so much that he shook himself down into a puddle on the ground, completely relaxed. “There you go should be good to go.” He dusts his hands of the purple powdered stuff, looking at you with another smile. “And no, not here to threaten. Just trying to help.”

You can't help the pleased smile that crosses your face, moving up next to Fishlegs. Grimrar doesn't move from his splayed-out position, even once you place the sponge against his scales. “Well thank you,” You nod to him with a genuine smile, taking up your task with renewed vigour. “What's with all of you dragon riders wanting to meet me so bad?”

“Oh, no,” Fishlegs tries to correct, raising his hands. “I wasn't trying to follow you around or anything. I live right across from Skullgar down that way,” He makes a gesture, and you take a quick glance before refocusing on the dragon. “I was heading down to the Hall when I saw you struggling, just figured I'd offer some friendly help.”

“Well it's certainly appreciated, thank you.” You smile back at him, moving away to grab your bucket of soapy water, heaving it over closer to the dragon. You dip the sponge, continuing your work on the other side.

“But,” Fishlegs continues, and you glance over with raised eyebrows. “I think the reason you're being hounded with all of us is likely Hiccup's fault.” I blush slightly, turning my attention back toward the dragon, trying to play it off. Fishlegs continues, but you swear you could hear a smile in his voice. “Once Astrid found out where he keeps running off to, Hiccup couldn't stop talking about you. House designs, carpentry ideas- he even gushed about the fact that you knew next to nothing about dragons. This would normally seem like a bad thing to someone as obsessed with dragons as Hiccup, but he enjoyed being able to teach you everything about them. Something about how your ‘curiosity is insatiable,’ and how your ‘eyes light up as bright as dragon’s fire' when you hear about something you like.”

By the end of his long tirade, you felt both embarrassed but strangely pleased. There was so much to unpack about everything you just heard- but not while covered in purple dust.

“That's… Very interesting,” You struggle to find the right words, settling just for that. You finish washing the face of the dragon gently, checking over him to make sure you got every scale. “I think the twins said something similar.”

“Well, that makes sense. They do complain the most when it comes to Hiccup’s raving.” You huff a laugh under your breath, finally dropping the sponge and washcloth into the bucket and taking a look at yourself.

“And as much as I'm enjoying this conversation, I should really go get cleaned up.” You smile toward Fishlegs, giving an awkward wave.

“Sure, see ya’ around!” He does a quick wave in return, turning to continue his way toward the Great Hall. You huff in frustration, looking back down at yourself. ‘This purple pollen is gonna’ take forever to get off of my clothes!’

Hiccup was back! He had been away for close to a month on some sort of scouting mission, according to the rumours. You could’ve just asked to make sure, but you felt hesitant in doing so. They would’ve asked why you wanted to know, and you didn’t have a good answer besides, ‘I miss him,’ so you decided to instead pretend as if everything was fine. And it was fine! You obviously could withstand a month away from your crush.

You only knew Hiccup was back because Toothless had flown right over your home as you were about to enter inside, finished with your day of work. They were a black blur above you, but the call of the Night Fury was unmistakable, and you turned to watch them fly toward the town before vanishing among the trees. You bite your lip, holding back a smile. If he was back, does that mean he would visit? You were excited to see him but didn’t know when that would be. If he was going into town, then it couldn’t hurt to visit him for once? He had always kept inviting you to the Great Hall anyway, what hurt could that do?

You leave your home without even entering it, turning and making your way back to the town. You jogged some of the distance, trying to tell yourself to temper your expectations. He might be busy, unavailable for you to pester. Or, he could be wandering around to tell everyone he was back and would be excited to see you. You pulled in a deep breath at that daydream, trying to push it away. Whatever happens, it’ll be fine. If Hiccup was busy, you could just go to the Great Hall for some dinner.

You finally exit the copse of trees between your house and the town, walking into the darkly lit area. Dragons mulled around in some places, casting large shadows across the ground and staring at you wearily. A few other people were walking through the town, though you expected they were all just trying to make it home themselves. You’re finally closing in on the Great Hall, hearing a ruckus of laughter and cheering from inside. Toothless sat outside the building, grooming himself before glancing up to look directly at you.

You freeze midstep, your eyes growing wider as Toothless stares at you. You’re unsure what to do, having never actually met the dragon before, personally. It was just the two of you out here- the sounds of your fellow Vikings just inside the big door, out of reach- and you felt more vulnerable than most other times in your life. This was one of, if not the, deadliest dragon known to man. And he was staring at you with wide green eyes as if determining your worth for himself. Finally, after a few minutes, Toothless turns away and resumes his previous task.

You couldn’t help the large sigh of relief you let out, slowly inching your way closer to the door. Toothless made no more moves to acknowledge you, and you felt relieved by it. Pushing into the Great Hall, you hadn’t seen everyone so lively in such a long time. Though granted, you hadn’t been here for every other end of the day, when the Vikings were finally able to let off a little steam. Most of the older ones were drinking, but you finally spied a table farther in the back, surrounded by all of Hiccup’s friends you had just recently met. The twins, Snoutlout, Fishlegs, and even Astrid sat in a circle around the table, laughing loudly and talking amongst themselves.

It is when Fishlegs stands, pushing away from the table and walking to a nearby buffet that you see him. Hiccup is sitting between Fishlegs’ empty seat and Astrid, laughing and shaking his head toward the twins as they begin to wrestle around, likely in some sort of disagreement. He is holding a cup out, moving to take a drink from it when his eyes scan the room, settling on you. You can see his eyes widen slightly before he slams his cup onto the table, the liquid inside splashing up and over the rim of the cup. You laugh and begin to approach as you watch him look down with surprise, then begin to stutter an apology toward Astrid, who had unfortunately been caught in the crossfire. That glare you knew so well was back on her face, though it seemed contrasted with a grudging familiarity and acceptance of Hiccup’s antics.

You hear a barely-there, “Excuse me one second,” From Hiccup before he spins and moves to make his way to you. Except, in the time it took him to clean his spill and apologize, you had closed most of the distance already. So, he spins and moves to step forward, then tries to catch himself as he notices you are already right behind him. His arms windmill, and you reach out to grasp his hip to keep him from falling over.

“Hey, there. Going somewhere?” You ask, with a smile, forgetting to remove your hand right away. You could see a blush lighting up his cheeks, but it was likely from the alcohol he was drinking, not anything you were doing. If he even was drinking alcohol.

“No,” Hiccup stutters out, clearing his throat and standing straighter. You realise where your hand is with his movement, and quickly pull it back to your side. He smiles, taking a small step forward to lean into your space. “I saw you come in! You’re finally here, you’re actually taking me up on my offer?”

“To have dinner in the public eating house?” You chuckle, trying to make a joke, and Hiccup shakes his head with his big smile.

“To eat here and share my table. I can introduce you-”

“Oh, he knows us!” You turn at the loud voice, finally noticing that every person at the table- including Fishlegs, who returned with a massive pile of food for the center of the table- was watching both you and Hiccup with varying emotions across their faces. Astrid and Ruffnut looked annoyed, Fishlegs pleased, meanwhile, Tuffnut and Snoutlout looked almost mischievous, with wide smiles. You realize it was Tuffnut who had called out, crossing his arms and leaning back.

“He does?” Hiccup asked slowly, his eyebrows raising, accompanying a look that almost portrayed fear. But why would he be afraid of that?

“Sure does!” Tuffnut answers and Ruffnut stands suddenly, pushing her brother’s head before moving to sit next to Astrid. The two girls lean in close together, whispering. Fishlegs continued to look on with a pleased expression, nodding as he reached for a large hunk of meat.

“Yeah, he met all of us over time while you were gone.” Fishlegs agreed, and you laughed nervously.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” You agree, turning your attention back toward Hiccup. He looks like he doesn’t know what to say, so you proceed to explain. “There was Astrid that day that she was looking for you. But then Ruffnut and Tuffnut found me working a few days later. Snotlout was on the back of his dragon and was flying by when he noticed me.” I smile toward Fishlegs, waving my hand in his direction. “And Fishlegs actually helped out a lot with one of the tasks Skullgar gave me the other day.”

“Oh! That's,” Hiccup hesitates, looking between you and the table before nodding, “Yeah, that’s good.” He doesn’t sound too confident in his words, but you nod along anyway. “I was actually going to introduce them to you! At- uh, at some point.”

“Sure you were, Hiccup,” Tuffnut called out, much too loud in your opinion.

“Wha-” Hiccup hesitates, looking unsure of himself. “Why don’t you take a seat?” Hiccup moves toward the table quickly, pulling out the only chair left- between Fishlegs and Tuffnut. He gestures to it with a smile before hopping delicately over to his seat, on the other side of Fishlegs. You sit down, reaching toward the middle to grab something small you could pretend to eat, just for something to do. Tuffnut immediately leans in close to you, invading your personal space.

“So, tell us about yourself [y/n], we’re all dying to hear.” You hesitate, then look up to the rest of the table staring at you still. Hiccup also scans the table, noticing the same with a wince and a sympathetic look toward you.

“Oh, well,” You hesitate, placing your food down on the table gently. “I just moved to Berk recently- right before the whole town moved actually.”

“Well, we know that,” Snotlout complains, leaning forward over the table. With how much of his chest you could see hanging over the table, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was standing on his chair to appear taller. “Hiccup told us that one already. Tell us something new!”

“Yeah, where are you from, anyway?” Tuffnut asks, still leaning into your space. You look quickly toward Hiccup and Fishlegs, both of whom have their eyebrows pulled together, cringing at their friends’ questions.

“Oh, I’m from, uh,” You hesitate, moving your gaze toward the table and idly playing with your food. “Just, somewhere pretty far away. I rode on a boat- well, a few boats. It took weeks before I finally found somewhere I felt safe enough to call home.” The table around you was quiet, contrasted by the reverberating crowd surrounding the group of you in the Great Hall. Cheers and calls were being thrown around, too loud and too many to distinguish any of the crowd’s words in the background. It was Ruffnut who broke the silence of your table.

“Well, that’s extremely unspecific of you.” She crosses her arms, disappointment clear across her face. You could only shrug, picking your food back up. Astrid’s voice across the table startles you, unaware that she has been listening.

“She’s right. It was. Why don’t you tell us the name of where you’re from?”

“Astrid,” Hiccup interrupts quietly, raising a hand to her arm with an expression that was clearly asking her to stop. She only tugs her arm away from him, standing and placing her hands on the table in front of her, leaning closer to you.

“No, I want to know. Why won’t you tell anyone where you’re from? Got something to hide, [y/n]? Planning something you don’t want us to find out about?” Her glare is back, which really is the only expression you recognize on her now. Her laughter from earlier had seemed awkward to you, but you had preferred that over this. She was questioning you again, but now in front of all of her friends. And Hiccup. He looked horrified up at Astrid, but he wasn’t stopping her.

“I-” You begin before Fishlegs reaches out to press a hand to your arm. You look at him to see a hard expression on his face, looking directly at Astrid.

“Leave him alone,” His voice is so contrasted to what you are used to- that kind and soft voice replaced by something cold and hard. “You’re better than this, Astrid.”

“I’m just asking-” Astrid throws her hands out, changing the target of her glare.

“No, you're interrogating.” Fishlegs removes his hand from you, and you can’t help feeling a pounding in your chest similar to adrenaline. “He lives in Berk, with us. He’s not evil, he’s not plotting anything, and he certainly isn’t causing a scene like you are.” You are surprised at the strength he exhibits, watching him with new eyes. You could see Astrid’s shoulders slumping. It takes her a bit of incoherent stammering, but she eventually rests her eyes on you again.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” She sits back down slowly, Ruffnut reaching out to rub her back. Your heart was still hammering, but you felt like you had to say something.

“I ran away from home.” Well, that certainly was not something you should’ve said. Every single head turns toward you, everyone but Fishlegs leaning forward over the table to get closer, to hear anything else. “To, uh,” You stutter slightly at the attention, feeling a blush heat up your cheeks. “To answer your question. That’s why I don’t want to say where I’m from.”

The lot of them lean back slowly, realizing they aren’t going to get a story after all. You let out a soft breath as Astrid nods, and you can see her expression opening slightly as if she is beginning to finally trust you. You aren’t sure how you feel about that, but you figure it couldn’t hurt. You finally let your eyes roam back to Hiccup, who once again has a pinched expression and seems antsy, staring between you and the door to the Great Hall. You wondered if he wished the both of you were alone together once again- just like you were wishing for.

“Bet you wished you ran away from home,” Tuffnut called over the table toward his sister, a sinister smirk stretching across his face. Ruffnut groans, calling out her own answer back about how she’d rather he ran away so she could have their dragon for herself, and the rest of them broke into laughter. The conversation naturally progressed, and it was like you had a front-row seat to Hiccup interacting with his friends. It was different, seeing him in a setting that wasn’t just the two of you, or out in town performing as Chief. He was just a guy here, sitting with his friends and enjoying the night. It was nice, to see this side of him.

The common thread of every conversation was the same: dragons. Each one had their own dragon (although the twins shared one with differing names), and each dragon had its own behaviours and personalities that caused clashes with not just each other, but with other dragons and its own rider as well. You thought they all were living happily ever after with their dragon, but it was almost as if every single one of them had an oppressive roommate who treated them like pets instead of the other way around.

Currently, Astrid was going on about her dragon, Stormfly, who had been pouting in her backyard for the last two days, refusing to fly, all because Astrid had forbidden him from eating her next-door neighbour’s lamb. She’s whining, and the table is commiserating, trying to come up with some sort of plan to fix the situation.

“I still think you should just feed him a lamb.”

“Tuffnut!” Astrid called out, reaching over to smack him in the head, “I just said I don’t want to kill my neighbour’s lamb! He just got it, and I want to be a good neighbour!”

“Not his lamb!” Tuffnut argues, jumping up and away from the table, dancing out of reach. “Just any lamb! Buy one and feed her that!”

“No,” Hiccup warns, shaking his head with an amused smile, “That’s setting a dangerous precedent. Soon, all she’ll agree to eat will be lambs. Then the other dragons will get jealous, and before we know it we won’t have any of them left. That’s why I put those feeding rules in place, we have to be careful.” He explains this like it's only natural, the easiest thing in the world, and reaches down for another bite. You shift in your seat slightly, watching him. He seems so… adult. He’s not fumbling his words or awkwardly tripping over; he has a confidence with his friends that makes you almost jealous, but mainly just curious, like you couldn’t help but want to see more.

“Well, then I’m out of ideas!” Tuffnut threw his hands in the air in defeat, and everyone at the table laughed. You glanced around, feeling slightly out of place during these conversations. The only dragon info you really had was what Hiccup had supplied to you. Tuffnut plops back into his seat with a huff, shaking his head. “How do you get a dragon to stop eating lamb?”

“You spike it with something gross?” You throw out, causing both Astrid and Hiccup to whip their gazes onto you.

“What do you mean?” Astrid asks, leaning forward and resting her arms on the table. You shrug, thinking out loud.

“I mean, if I had something I was eating, that suddenly tasted like the grossest thing in the world, then I don’t think I’d end up craving that food anymore.” You hesitate at their stares, shrugging again, “Personally, anyway.”

“Well, how would we even do that, though?” Astrid asks, genuinely curious. Hiccup puts his food down, watching you with intention. You can’t tell what’s running through his head, but you were just hoping not to make a fool of yourself.

“Well, do dragons eat dead things? Or just hunt for living creatures to eat?” You purse your lips in thought, looking up to escape the sight of everyone watching you. Tuffnut begins to laugh but stops once Ruffnut elbows him harshly.

“They eat dead creatures, yeah. We’ve been trying to train them out of hunting, at least while they’re at the village, so they mostly eat things we’ve prepared for them.” Hiccup answers, smiling toward you with encouragement. You nod, then pick up your food, gesturing with it as you speak.

“Well, then, stick an eel inside a sheep.” You take a bite, looking around at the confusion on everyone’s faces. “Like, chop it up and stuff the inside with it?”

“Stick an eel…” Ruffnut begins, with her twin following up,

“In a sheep…”

“That’s a brilliant idea!” Astrid calls out, and you watch in shock as a genuine smile spreads across her face, caused by you. You never thought you’d see the day.

“It really is,” Hiccup whispers breathlessly as he stares at you, so quiet you question whether he had actually said it or not. Fishlegs elbows Hiccup’s ribs, who in turn startles and looks down at the table, his face heating in a blush. You wondered what that was about, but felt pleased as the rest of the table began to congratulate you on your idea. Astrid shortly excused herself, calling out her need to execute this plan immediately.

No one else seemed ready to leave, even after they all finished eating. The Great Hall’s population was dwindling down slowly, but you felt warm, comfortable and safe among your new friends. And you couldn’t help it- you finally, truly believed they were your friends. They joked with you, including you in conversations even when you didn’t know most of the things they were talking about. Snotlout personally was a fan of telling you stories, gesturing largely with his hands and making a show of it. Fishlegs interrupted with corrections to the story or trivia bits, while the twins held responsibility for the comedic one-liners, inserting at points to make the table laugh again and again.

The fires were dying down and everyone seemed to be settling down, having quieter conversations with each other. No longer joining in, but enjoying their company, you pull out your little whittling project and set to work. It was Snotlout who noticed, bringing it up.

“You carving something over there, carpenter?” You look up to see all of them turn to look, Tuffnut leaning close to you to spy why you were holding under the table. You laugh, bringing it up for all of them to see. It was a sitting dragon, fashioned after Grimrar this time (as he was the one dragon you were most familiar with), with his front legs pulled together in front of him and wings spread out halfway. His details weren’t finished yet, but the general shape of the dragon was formed.

“Just a gift.” You smile, shrugging, setting the dragon on the table to test its weight. It took many tries to get it to stay upright and sitting evenly. But now it stood like a tiny idol or doll, staring blankly ahead.

“Oh,” Ruffnut drawls out, leaning her face close to the dragon to inspect it. “Which dragon is this?”

“It’s Grimrar!” Fishlegs calls out before you answer, reaching and snatching it off the table. “The wings are slightly smaller than his wingspan, and his snout is a little thinner, but you definitely have done a great job!” Fishlegs sets the dragon back on the table, looking at it again with a smile. You nod, agreeing that it was, as Fishlegs explains to the rest of them who exactly Grimrar was.

“Oh, you have to carve me one! Hookfang would be a perfect sculpture!” Snotloud called out, leaning across the table in excitement. “How big can you make it? As big as a house?”

“Don’t be unreasonable,” Ruffnut calls out, pushing Snotlout back down into his seat.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I could carve anything bigger than this,” You pick the project back up, waving it in emphasis. “But I’ll see what I can do? I can’t promise anything though.” At this, both of the twins begin scrambling toward you, begging for you to make one for them as well. They begin arguing with each other about the features that the idol should exhibit, both wanting emphasis on either head as the ‘better’ one. You just laugh, shaking your head and tuning them out as you move your attention back to your project. Now that they knew of it, you figured you’d better finish the details quickly and give it to Skullgar before he hears about it from someone else.

The night finally draws to a close as Snotlout begins snoring on the table, the rest of your friends finally standing and moving to the exit. Everyone seems tired, Hiccup especially, and you know you’re going to regret how long you stayed up when it comes to work tomorrow. Although, you were due for a day off at some point. Surely it’d be fine if you slept in tomorrow. Everyone said their goodbyes at the doors to the Great Hall, Toothless sleeping in a ball nearby. Hearing Hiccup’s voice, he begins to stretch and stand, leisurely making his way closer to Hiccup. As you turn to leave, a hand on your arm stops you.

“Hey, why don’t I walk you back?” You turn to see Hiccup’s eyes- a simmering juniper colour in this low lighting. The night was dark, and there was only one torch on the wall nearby. You hesitate, remembering how tired he was.

“I’ll be ok Hiccup, you go get some sleep.” He just shakes his head, taking a step closer.

“Please?” This causes you to pause, watching his eyes and wondering if you’re really reading desperation in them. “It’s a long walk through the forest, I don’t know if I’d be able to sleep without knowing you made it home safely.” Your eyes glance away from him, scanning his retreating friends in the distance.

“But what about the rest of your friends? Not worried about them?”

“They live in town,” Hiccup argues, sounding uninterested in them, “And they have dragons.”

“Sure,” You agree, unwilling to argue with him further. You knew you just craved more of his attention, having not seen him in so long and being surrounded by people when you finally did. As you both begin to walk, you hear Toothless following behind you. Your shoulders become stiff over time, uncomfortable with an unknown dragon so close to your defenceless back.

But nothing happens. It is a quiet walk, and you move to carry a torch but Hiccup took it before you could so he was holding it up between you. The circle of light it gives off was eerie, almost like you both had your own little bubble away from the world. Well- the three of you, as Toothless slunk low to the ground behind you both. It was only when your house was coming into view that Hiccup finally spoke up.

“I’ve been arguing with myself all night, but I have to ask.” You turn to look, your eyebrows raised as he tries to give you an imploring smile. “Will you carve a little Toothless idol for me?” You see Toothless raise his head out of the corner of your eye, looking at you and tilting his head sideways.

“Oh,” You begin, laughing at the unexpected request. “Speaking of, I actually have something for you.” You watch his face get overtaken by surprise, quickly raising your hands. “Uh, not Toothless though. I carved something else. From memory. It’s probably not very good, actually-”

“I’d love to see it,” Hiccup interrupts your rambling, smiling brightly at you. You suddenly become nervous, those nerves growing the closer you get to your house.

“Ok, just,” You huff out a nervous breath, trying to smile for him, “Temper your expectations, I probably got a lot of it wrong.” You push open your door, wandering inside your house. It's a bit more messy than the last time he was here, but in a way that shows it's lived-in now. You move directly toward the shelf beside the bar, picking up the idol you just finished carving the other day. It was supposed to be Stoick the Vast, carved from your memory of that giant statue that had stood on the old Berk island. He was a rather large man, with a long beard, a small bull-horned helmet, and holding the handle of an axe with the head on the ground in front of his feet. You’d added details- curves in his beard, decorated armour, and bulging muscles.

You’d heard a lot about the previous Chief. You never met the man, but still had fierce respect for him. The stories told of him were grand and awe-inspiring. He was the Chief who had protected his town from dragon attacks. He had killed so many and protected so many others, it was no wonder there were so many stories to tell. But just as well, there were stories of him being gentle. Caring for a baby Hiccup and touring him all around Berk. Accepting Hiccup’s love for dragons in the end, and helping implement this new lifestyle, surrounded and loved by dragons until the end.

You hold it out toward Hiccup, avoiding his eyes as you move behind the bar, emptying your pockets onto the counter. Hiccup approaches the bar slowly, staring at the figure in his hand silently. He taps the bar with his other hand, curled into a fist, and you wonder if this was a bad idea. Then you hear a sniff. Hiccup looks up, tears clear in his eyes, and smiles sadly toward you.

“I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

“Oh,” You begin, shaking your head, “You don’t have to. I just hope I remembered it correctly. He was your dad, wasn’t he?” Hiccup nods in response, looking back down to the figure and tracing the curves with his finger. He laughs softly, placing it on the bar upright.

“You should make one for yourself.” You tilt your head curiously, confused by his meaning. He continues, explaining, “You should carve your parents into one of these. So they can watch over you while you’re here.” Your face drops, immediately looking away from Hiccup. You feel restless and start walking around the bar and away from Hiccup.

“No,” You shake your head, moving to start tending to your fireplace. “That’s fine. I’d rather carve the dragons.”

“But,” Hiccup hesitates, looking between you and the gift he received. “I didn’t know how much I needed this until it was in my hand. Maybe you just don’t know-”

“Hiccup,” You interrupt, feeling your heart start to pound in your chest. “I’m so thankful you like the gift, but not everyone had close relations with their family like you did.” It is quiet behind you as Hiccup takes this in, and then you feel a hand touch your shoulder. It startles you since you hadn’t even heard him approach.

“I’m sorry,” He’s apologizing, and it sends a twinge of guilt through your stomach. You finally look away from the fire, up into his eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” You sigh, taking his hand from your shoulder and pulling him toward a bench nearby. You sit down, and Hiccup quickly sits next to you. You could hear some sort of rustling outside, the bobbing head of Toothless out of the window seeming to have found something to entertain himself with.

“Don’t be sorry,” You whisper, pulling your attention away from the window and back to him. “You didn’t know.” He moves to interject, but you touch his hand again and he falls silent. “My relationship with my parents was never close, but,” You take a deep breath, staring into the fire. “They disowned me.”

“What?” You could spy Hiccup shaking his head in confusion out of the corner of your eye, but your attention was stuck to the fire, the image of those days playing out in your head. “Why?”

“Because I wasn’t what they wanted me to be.” You take another deep breath, turning to look into his eyes. “I was born with a girl’s body.” You watch his confusion dip even further, and you feel panic rising in your chest with every word that spills out. “I am a boy, as you and everyone else have noticed. But I grew up with the expectations from my family that I’d be a woman because I was born in this body.” You sigh, shaking your head and looking back toward the flickering flames. “They trained me as they would any of their children, teaching me how to defend myself and fight with a battleaxe. They taught me where to slice a dragon open to kill it with one hit, and how to lay traps that would capture anything that walked over it. They trained me, sure, but they never loved or cared for me.”

Hiccup remains silent, and you don’t even notice as tears begin to spill onto your cheeks as you continue your distant stare into the fire. “When I came out to them,” You began, sucking in a breath and having to steel yourself to continue, “They thought it was a joke at first, laughed. Then they told me no, I couldn’t be a boy. That I wasn’t allowed. I don’t know what they thought, that I could just stop being who I am?” You sniff, finally closing your eyes and dropping your gaze, feeling tears splash down onto your hands in your lap. “I started dressing more masculine, and it just felt right. It didn’t take long for them to have had enough. They gave me an ultimatum. ‘Stop playing dress up, or leave.’” You huffed out a desperate laugh, but it wasn’t funny to you. You didn’t know what else to do. “So I left.”

“[y/n],” Hiccup whispers your name with so much emotion, that you finally raise your gaze back to him. You couldn’t read the mixture of emotions on his face, but he looked pretty. And concerned for you.

“It’s okay Hiccup,” You whisper out, shrugging. “I began binding my chest, packed all the masculine clothes that I owned, and took the next boat out.” Staring into Hiccup’s face, you hear yourself spew out, “I haven’t regretted a second of it.”

“Really?” Hiccup asks with feeling, leaning forward toward you.

“This Berk feels more like home than anywhere else ever has,” You finally admit, able to pull a real smile to the surface. Hiccup raises his hand, gently wiping the tear tracks from your cheeks. After, he lets out a long breath, looking at your fireplace and reaching to throw a log on top.

“So does anyone else know?”

“Well,” You begin, wagging your head from side to side in consideration. “Gobber knows. I don’t know if he told anyone, but I have a suspicion that Skullgar knows as well.” Hiccup’s eyebrows raise to comical heights.

“Gobber? Gobber knew this? For how long?”

“Since the moment I got to Berk.” You softly laugh at his expression, glad to have gotten that off of your chest and not have Hiccup leave you in the cold. You don’t think he realizes your immense gratitude for just accepting your story and not questioning your gender- he hadn’t even made a big deal of it. The only thing that mattered to him was your parents disowning you, like only that thought was unimaginable and not any of the rest. “Maybe not the second I stepped off of the boat, but I began to ask around for handiwork I could help with. Gobber found me, practically drowning in my own tears and fright, and calmed me down. I couldn’t help it, I spewed out my whole story for him to hear. He didn’t judge me or anything, even helped me get my apprenticeship under Skullgar.” You smile softly, tilting your head. “I owe him a lot.”

“Wow,” Hiccup whispers, sinking back onto the bench and looking at you with amazement. “You’ve been through so much just to end up here.”

“It’s okay, really,” You insist, reaching to take his hand with yours, holding it. “I’ve built myself a life here that I actually enjoy. I have friends now, people who actually enjoy my company. I don’t have to kill things on a weekly basis, and no one questions my outfit choices anymore.” You chuckle softly, thinking back. “Honestly, I was sort of suppressed and numb back then. I don’t remember ever feeling happy.”

“But you’re happy here?” Hiccup asks, leaning forward as if this meant the world to him, as if you hadn’t been already trying to convince him of this fact. You laugh, squeezing his hand and nodding.

“Yes, I’m happy here, Hiccup.” He lets out a breath of relief, his shoulders slumping along. You can’t help the smile that crosses your face, surprised about it after having just talked about your past life. “There’s so much more to this world than I could’ve imagined.”

“Well,” Hiccup begins, smirking and shrugging a shoulder, and you pull your hand back lest he think something ridiculous- like how you have a massive crush on him that’s getting harder to suppress. “It’s actually a lot more than even this.” He gestures around your house, but likely indicating the entire town of Berk. He has that smile on that usually means he’s thinking of dragons again. “When you go flying, you really can see how big this world is. Everything seems so small in comparison. Like, it’s not the end of the world if you end up making a mistake, y’know?”

You study his posture, wondering how often he went flying when he got anxious about his chiefly duties and responsibilities. Did he go flying to calm himself down, or did he get energized with the wind in his face? He had mentioned a map he was currently drawing out once before, and your curiosity burned to see how much of the world he has explored, how big the drawing had gotten. You begin to yearn to see him like that, in his element and happy. You wanted to feel that, while also seeing him at his happiest-

“I think I’m ready to go flying with you.”

Hiccup sits straight up, his hands reaching out to take both of yours with an overwhelmingly excited expression. “Wait, really? Seriously?” You laugh at his excitement, nodding your head.

“Yeah. I mean, Toothless doesn’t seem to mind me that much. And,” You shrug, chuckling again, “I have to admit, you’ve got me curious.”

“Yes!” Hiccup cheered, jumping to his feet and pumping his fist in the air. “Yes, definitely! Tomorrow?” You tilt your head, consideringly, then nod.

“Sure. I’m due for a day off. Why not?”

His expression was almost more than you could take, so filled with excitement and hope and love. You wanted to grab him and hug him, wanted to take his face into your hands and press a kiss to those upturned lips, you wanted- You cut yourself off with a shake of your head, standing and facing him. He took your hands once more, staring deep into your eyes. “You won’t regret it.”

Hiccup was going to end up the death of you, you were sure of it.

TAG LIST: @lecoindetobi , @yakosobaboba ,

#how to train your dragon #fanfiction #hiccup x reader #hiccup x m!reader #hiccup x ftm!reader #astrid hofferson #snotlout jorgenson #fishlegs ingerman #tuffnut thorston #ruffnut thorston #carpenter!reader #awkward!Hiccup #meeting friends #mutual pining #fear of falling chapter two #tw: transphobia #tw: bad family life #sad backstory #sorry my guys

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sister-lucifer · 5 months

Text

In which Lucian, a humble baker, meets two very interesting customers who seem to be more than meets the eye.

Content/Warnings: Original characters, slow burn, Medieval/Fantasy, charmingly mundane slices of life stuff, just fluff and character set up in this chapter, but if you like MLM Poly relationships you should stick around!

You can find the masterlist for this series (among others) in my pinned post!

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, USED COMMERCIALLY OR FED TO AN AI. IF YOU DO THIS I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND KILL YOU.

Not fully proofread! Please let me know if you catch any errors!

Lucian stretches out in his bed, groaning as his joints pop and his limbs wake up, readying themselves for the day. Begrudgingly he sits up, dirty blond hair tousled by his pillows in the night. He smooths it down as best he can with his fingers, but there’s not much he can do without the unforgiving bristles of a brush.

With a yawn he throws his legs over the side of his bed and slides his feet into his tattered slippers. He cracks his back for good measure, sighing and blowing a curly lock of hair from between his eyes. As the outside world slowly leaks into his sleep-addled brain, he recognizes the familiar sound of the jays chirping endlessly outside his window; a sure sign that it is, in fact, time to get up.

When he pushes himself out of bed and parts the old curtains hiding his chambers from the rest of the world, the sun is eager to cover his freckled face in its warm light. He blinks a few times to adjust, the blinding brightness of the morning slowly melting into a pleasant glow.

His shapeless pajama gown flows about his round body as he trudges to the bathroom, another yawn crawling up his throat as he comes into view in the mirror. His hair is flicked up in every which way, hazel eyes tired but not unhappy as he walks up to the sink, pudgy tummy bumping against it when he leans over to splash a bit of water on his face.

He feels much more awake than before once he’s dried his rosy cheeks and rubbed his eyes. He plucks his hairbrush from its holder and runs it briefly under the faucet before running it through his fawn tresses, only until the thatch of curls becomes presentable enough. No one’s going to be looking that hard, anyways.

The hairbrush clatters back into its holder and the toothbrush comes out instead. It too is run briefly under the water before being put to work, another step in the morning routine Lucian often finds himself repeating ad infinitum. Minutes later he’s back in his bedroom, rummaging through drawers for something that resembles a put together outfit. It doesn’t have to be perfect when it’s going to be covered with an apron all day.

He decides on brown trousers that are loose around the bottom and a comfortable, worn tunic that won’t get in the way with its flowing sleeves or make his binding garment too obvious. He slips his feet from his house slippers and instead into his trusted woolen-soled shoes, long since shaped to the arch of his feet after so many years.

He pauses to glance in the mirror, turning halfway just to make sure nothing has an obvious rip or tear in it. He adjusts his pants and the bottom of his shirt around the chub of his belly before ultimately deciding it’ll do.

He turns back to grab his mossy green, woolen sweater from the chair he draped it over the night before. The edges are fraying again, he notices, he’ll have to fix that when he has the time. He doesn’t mind it so much now, though, as his arms fit comfortably into the warm sleeves of the garment, thumbs skillfully avoiding getting caught on any of its unnoticed holes or the hasty stitching of its owner from decades prior. Lucian does take note, though, that the split in one side pocket is growing. He’ll have to fix that later, too.

When Lucian pushes open the door connecting his home with his bakery, the comforting, lingering smell of strawberry and buttercream greets him with vigor. It seems to permeate everything in his bakery, though he certainly doesn’t mind. This early the only ones out on the streets are stray dogs retreating to their hiding spots and children headed to the school building up the road.

He pulls the door open and props it with the stop, then flips the sign set up in the window:

Hensley’s is Open! Come on in!

“We’re open, everyone!” Lucian calls, not to anyone in particular.

The first preparations of the day are always the easiest.

First, he pulls his trusty apron from its rack and ties it behind his back, double knotting it just to make sure it’ll hold. Then he pulls the still-good loaves and pastries from yesterday that weren’t sold from their covered baskets, arranging them in his display in the particular way he can’t explain but can’t do without. When he’s satisfied with the results he moves on, giving a quick glance to the door before turning to his oven.

He grips the fire striker with less confidence than he should, his other hand tossing a few logs into the oven before grabbing his flint. As he strikes the stone and the spark sets the wood alight he resist the urge to scramble backwards despite the familiar heat on his knuckles. His back aches as he rises to his full height once more, setting the flint and striker back on their shelf.

He turns his attention to the plants in his windows next. He fills the can with the spout around the side of the bakery (it’s too bulky to fit into the little sink at his station, after all), dropping a bit of water on the wildflowers that bloom outside the building on his way back inside.

Slowly, the watering can’s spout moves over each pot, moved by a practiced hand that has done this countless mornings before. Only when the soil is thoroughly wet does he move on, cycling through one by one until all of his green children have had their fill and the can can be tucked neatly back into place in the cabinet.

Lucian pauses as he takes a look around his bakery. He stops and leans against the counter, taking a moment to admire the scene.

The morning sun comes in rays through the windows, sunning his plants and warming the wood floors. The spring breeze meanders through the open door and just barely rustles his hair about his round cheeks. The distant sound of horseshoes on the path and the other businesses opening their doors signals the awakening of a bustling town. The—

“Mr. Hensley! Mr. Hensley!”

Lucian turns quickly to the sound of clattering and a call of his name outside his bakery, followed shortly by a bleat of surprise. He has only a moment to process before his first arrival in standing in the doorway, his dark hair bouncing in sweet curls around his flushed face and little tail flicking quickly to and fro as he recovers from his crash, bike now laying against the side of the building.

“Oh, Callum,” Lucian sighs, rushing to the boy to brush the dirt from his sleeves, “You have to be careful! Your mother spent a lot of money on this uniform, there’s no telling how much that school will make her pay for another…”

The young faun only blinks up at him with wide blue eyes. He shakes some leaves from his unkempt hair and the fur of his ears before holding out the hot mug he’s brought with him, wrapped in a cloth to keep it from burning his hands.

“Here, Mr. Hensley. Your coffee.”

Lucian’s eyes soften as he takes the mug, removing the covering from the top and watching the steam rise.

“Thank you, Callum.”

The mug is set aside to cool for now, and Lucian quickly returns his attention to the faun boy who’s just collided with his bakery.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks, plucking a stubborn twig from Callum’s nest of hair and rubbing over a scratch on the fresh nubs of his horns.

“No, I’m okay,” Callum replies quickly, brushing off his uniform jacket, “Just in a rush. I woke up late, that’s all. I grabbed my books and I was out the door, I didn’t even have to eat breakfast…”

“…Is that why you’ve left home without shoes?”

Callum pauses and looks down, groaning at the sight of his bare hooves on the wood floors.

“Aw, man! I’m gonna get an earful from the headmaster…”

Lucian feels a bit bad for giggling at the boy’s plight, but he can’t help it. He misses when his problems were that simple.

“You don’t have to bring me coffee every day, you know. I appreciate it, but I’ll survive without it,” Lucian assures him.

“Yeah, I know,” Callum replies with a shrug, absentmindedly toying with the leaves of one of Lucian’s plants, “But Ma says it’s a nice thing to do, especially since you don’t have magic.”

“Oh, well—“

“She says that making coffee ‘n’ stuff without magic takes a lot of time that you don’t have, since you have to work so hard and stuff. Is that true?”

“Er, y-yes, but—“

“She wonders how you do anything without magic, yanno. She says it’s really impressive that this place has stayed open so long when you—“

“Callum! I mean…I understand, Callum. Thank you. Here…”

Lucian takes a loaf of bread from his display, handing it to the boy with haste.

“Can’t have you going on an empty stomach. Run along, and quickly, you’re already running late.”

Callum takes the bread without hesitation, immediately digging in and thanking Lucian through a mouthful of it. In an instant he’s out the door and back on his bike, disappearing down the path. Lucian watches him go only until he’s sure he won’t crash once more.

Lucian sighs as the ache in his back starts to return. The day waits for no one, though, and he’s got work to do.

Throughout the day people pass through his bakery with leisure. Most are familiar, others are new but not unusual. The town of Lydell is a small one, after all. Not rich, but not too poor either, with a good part of its inhabitants planning bigger and better things for themselves and their families beyond the town limits. Every now and then he toys with that idea, that maybe one day he’ll pack himself up and move into one of the big, bustling cities he reads out in the books, with magic pouring from every brick in every wall on every street…

…Foolish imaginings, that’s all. He’s got far too much to do here.

He watches from behind his counter as the sun lazily rolls into place in the center of the sky. The cool breeze of the March morning melts into something warmer, though not suffocatingly hot. Every now and then Lucian must wipe the sweat from his brow after standing in front of his oven for too long, but ‘tis the price one pays for a fresh batch of strawberry turnovers.

Lucian looks up from the hot tray now cooling on the counter at the sound of a crackly meow.

There, in his doorway, a slim figure of a cat with milky white fur splotched with inky stains of black around the feet and tail. It rubs up against the door, mewing softly just to make sure its presence is known. It sits with a regal confidence, not at all perturbed by the people who pass through the door beside it.

“Well, look who decided to stop in today,” Lucian says with a chuckle. The cat meows in reply before lazily sauntering over to the counter.

“Give me just a moment, my dear. When I’ve gotten these customers taken care of I’ll get you your treat.”

The cat seems to understand. This is an exchange they have quite often, after all. With no collar to speak of and an insatiable desire to wander, the little animal is nearly an enigma to Lucian, but he’ll never complain about the company. For now he has to turn his attention to the lanky elf that is patiently awaiting his turn to speak.

By now Lucian can navigate customer interactions with little to no friction. No, he does not have those in a different flavor. Yes, he can make them in a different flavor, but they wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow. Yes, he can go ahead and get some bagged up anyways. No, he does not offer a discount. No, he really doesn’t offer a discount.

“Thank you, come again!”

Lucian sighs as the elf takes his leave, seemingly satisfied enough with the small bag of raspberry shortbread cookies.

He turns to look down at the little cat still waiting patiently by his feet. It blinks slowly, then meows. Lucian laughs and mimics the sound.

He then turns his attention to the cabinet beneath his sink. That’s where he keeps the little bowl and bag of dry food his feline companion loves so much. The cat meows excitedly, and Lucian can see it resisting the urge to hop up on the counter as he dumps the food into the bowl.

“Here, you’ve waited very patiently,” Lucian says as he sets the bowl on the floor, pushing it to the side where he can keep an eye on the cat without it being in his way when he walks around or behind the counter.

He looks back up and out the open door, only to squint in confusion as he tries to make sense of what he’s seeing.

It looks like two horses and their riders coming down the path, which wouldn’t be so odd if it weren’t for what Lucian could swear was the royal crest embroidered onto their side bags. The riders themselves are clad in varying degrees of armor, the metal clinking slowly getting louder as they approach the bakery.

Royal guards? Here? In a little town like Lydell?

Lucian quirks a brow as he watches them approach. He’s expecting them to simply pass by—they probably have important business to attend to, after all—but then one of them pauses. He pulls on the reigns of his horse, whistling and calling to his partner with words Lucian can’t make out from where he’s standing.

It’s clear now that they won’t simply be passing by. Before Lucian even realizes they’ve stopped their horses outside of the bakery, and now they’re hopping down from their saddles.

Now that they’re closer, Lucian can get a better look at them. They’re definitely guards, that’s for sure, and much taller and stronger than any human Lucian has met here in Lydell.

The first one is the shorter of the two, about 5’9, if Lucian were to guess. His skin is tan, a natural copper tone, and his curly hair is dark and thick, shaved underneath and left long on top. He’s smirking for some reason, the expression pressing dimples into his warm cheeks, though something about him makes it seem like he doesn’t need a reason. His eyes are sharp and foxy, the kind that notice little details about everything and everyone and leave others to feel uncomfortably analyzed. His armor is minimal, only a leather chest piece and gloves, and a few daggers are sheathed in his belt. He moves with a lithe swiftness as though he’s unaware of his own weight, hitting the ground without a moment’s stumble as he dismounts from his horse.

The second man isn’t nearly as graceful, but certainly isn’t to be taken lightly. He’s a hulking beast, 6’0 at least, perhaps 6’1, in a full suit of metal armor, save for the missing helmet. He’s paler than death, with long, golden blond hair that’s been lazily thrown back into a low, loose ponytail, leaving a few strands to dangle around his face. His long lashes are the same light color, hovering over icy blue eyes that give way to no emotion. Lucian can only see half his expression, as the bottom part of his face is covered with a dark neck gaiter. He comes down off his horse with a thud and a bit of metallic clinking, giving the animal a gentle pat. With a quick flick of his wrist and a skillful bit of magic he fastens the horses’ reigns to the post without touching them, and shortly after follows his companion inside.

“Woah, it smells amazing in here!” The shorter one exclaims, the pale one giving a nod of agreement in response, “I told you stopping was a good idea, I— Oh, look! They have strawberry turnovers!”

Lucian has to bite back a chuckle as he rushes up to the counter like an excitable child, fumbling around in his pockets for money.

“Two silvers each,” Lucian replies, “How many? And will you be staying, or should I get you a bag?”

“Six please, three for each of us, and, eh…we’ll stay!” The man replies, shrugging at his partner, “We could use the rest. We’re headed back to Bascilium from Nora.”

“Nora? Gods above, that’s far up north, what could possibly be so urgent the king felt the need to send his guards?” Lucian asked, not looking away from the two men as he moved to slip a few turnovers from their tray onto plates.

“Oh, you know, just a little farm worker’s uprising. Apparently people don’t like having their gifts of agricultural magic exploited to feed corporate bigwigs. Funny how that works!”

Lucian forces a laugh, although he’s not sure what’s funny. The taller one still hasn’t said a word, instead occupying himself by looking around the bakery.

“So, I take it you got it figured out, then?” Lucian asks, handing the plates over.

“Mhm!” The man replies with a grin, eagerly taking the plates and handing one to his colleague, “Well, as figured out as it can be for now. Things like this happen a lot in Nora with all the industrialization. King Ambrose is working on sending a few delegates down there to smooth out some of the systems. You know there’s—“

The man is swiftly cut off by an elbow to the ribs from his partner. He turns to question what the could have possibly been for, but the taller one gives only a one handed gesture in response. Sign language of some kind, if Lucian were to guess. Whatever he said, it puts the first man at ease.

“Ah, yeah, I’m rambling. Sorry about that, mister, uh…” He pauses, squinting to read Lucian’s name tag. “…Lucian. Hey, I like that name. I’m Tobias, Tobias Silva, and the guy I rode in with is Rex Theroux. I take it you’re the ‘Hensley’ that runs this place?”

“Yessir,” Lucian replies with a suddenly confident grin, “Lucian Hensley, that’s me. Forgive me for bragging, but this little place is my pride and joy.”

“Well then I’m glad we stopped in! Feels like this trip has us running all over Divestia.”

This earns a snort from Rex, and a few more signs that have an air of sass to them.

“Well, okay, yeah,” Tobias concedes, “It was my idea to take the scenic route through here, but it worked out well enough, didn’t it? You could never find good food this cheap in Bascilium. Oh, shit, I almost forgot—!”

He quickly dips his free hand into his pocket, pulling out a small pouch and setting it on the counter. He pulls out twelve silver coins and hands them to Lucian, who gladly accepts them and tucks them away into his drawer.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Silva.”

“Just Tobias is fine, don’t worry about it. We don’t really do formalities.”

“Oh, alright then. Thank you, Tobias. Enjoy your turnovers.”

Tobias gives a quick nod before gesturing for Rex to follow him to one of the little tables pushed up against the large windows of the bakery. Lucian finds himself smiling at the talkative young man and his silent, looming shadow; a charming pair, those two are. Perhaps that’s why Lucian finds himself glancing over at them as they eat despite his occupation with his work. Tobias’s chatter never ceases except for when he’s chewing, but at the same time his attention doesn’t waver from his silent partner when he signs a response. Tobias gestures widely as he speaks, threatening to knock over a plant or two when he gets particularly excited, whereas Rex keeps his movements sharp and controlled, a skilled hand showing his familiarity with the silent language he utilizes. The pair seem to get along with no issue despite the way their natures juxtapose one another, but then again, perhaps that’s what makes them so compatible.

Tobias and Rex sit and shoot the breeze for about an hour, maybe, having finished their turnovers halfway through but not realizing, or at least not caring. The sun has just barely rolled towards the west end of the sky, shadows now slanting under the light. The foot traffic around the bakery has slowed a bit, so Lucian has taken to wiping down his counter and empty tables. That is, until he looks up at the sound of his name.

“Hey, Lucian?” Tobias calls with a wave of his hand, “Can you come here for a sec?”

Lucian collects his rag and approaches the table Tobias and Rex have made themselves comfortable at, giving them a polite smile.

“Yes? Is something the matter?”

“Oh no, not at all,” Tobias is quick to reply, “Rex just wants to know about your plants, what kinda magic you’re using to keep ‘em looking this green.”

Lucian’s eyes turn to Rex, and he’s almost surprised to see his neck gaiter pushed down under his chin. He’s not sure why he’s surprised; how else was he supposed to eat? Or, perhaps, he’s simply surprised that his face is so unremarkable. Handsome, yes, but no scars or deformities, although Lucian doesn’t know why he expected there to be any. Maybe that’s simply the assumption one makes when another has their face covered for without obvious reason.

Wait, what was the question? Oh, right, the plants.

“I don’t use any magic, actually,” Lucian explains, suddenly feeling sheepish, “I, um…don’t have any.”

“Wait, what?” Tobias says, a bit louder than he meant to (a lot louder, actually; the sudden exclamation makes Rex wince a bit), “You run this whole damn place without magic? Wow, I mean, don’t get me wrong, that’s really impressive! I just can’t believe someone like you would— Ow!”

He’s promptly cut off once more with a smack on the arm and a sharp look from Rex. Tobias swipes his arm away and puts his hands up defensively.

“What? What I’d say? I didn’t deserve it that time!”

Lucian laughs softly behind his hand, unable to ignore Tobias’s natural dramatics.

“It’s alright,” He assures the two, “I get that sort of thing a lot. I admit, it is rather impressive, though I don’t like to gloat. As far as the plants go, it’s just a matter of keeping them watered and not letting the soil go dry.”

Rex considers his words, nodding and doing a brief gesture that almost resembles a salute.

“Oh, he says thank you,” Tobias clarifies.

“It’s no problem,” Lucian says, returning the courteous nod, “Can I take those plates from you?”

“Huh? Oh! Yes, please, we’ve really got to get going…thanks again, those were amazing. We’ll definitely be stopping by again.”

“Well, I’m very happy to hear that,” Lucian replied, unable to stop himself from grinning as his heart swelled with pride. He’d just bagged himself two more returning customers, and royal guards no less! Perhaps they’ll spread the word of this little place. Wishful thinking, maybe, but maybe not.

Rex and Tobias gather themselves and rise from their table as Lucian drops the plates into the sink. He returns a brief wave as they both walk out the door, Rex giving another salute before turning away; one last thank you, Lucian assumes.

He watches as the pair mount their horses once again, settling upon their saddles before heading off down the path.

“Interesting pair of characters, those two are,” Lucian mumbles to himself as he turns back to his work. The little cat, which has now moved to basking on the window sill, meows in what Lucian chooses to interpret as agreement.

The pair of guards arrive back to the castle at nightfall, the last few rays of sun allowing them to walk their horses back to the stables before they head in for the night.

First thing’s first: The king expects a full report.

Tobias doesn’t bother knocking, entering King Ambrose’s office with an incredible amount of casualness. He strides in with Rex, who at least has the decency to close the door back, following close behind him, as usual. Ambrose looks up from the papers he was studying, hard expression instantly melting away into a familiar smile.

“My boys,” Ambrose purrs, standing up from his chair and walking around the front of his desk, “You’ve finally returned.”

The guards nod in unison, and Tobias can’t stop himself from taking a moment to study his beautiful king. Ambrose is quite the stunning man after all; his skin is dark, as are his eyes, and his ebony hair is done up in locs so impossibly long they nearly brush the floor when he walks, decorated with gold cuffs and never less than perfectly maintained. His slim figure is draped in gold and white, as usual, for even a king’s most casual outfit is extravagant. He’s set his crown aside for now, as he usually does when working, but he has yet to remove the rest of his jewelry, as evidenced by the gold sparking on his wrists, fingers, ears and neck.

“So? How did it go? I assume well, seeing as you aren’t quite as disheveled as I’d expect from a failed attempt at quelling riots,” Ambrose teases as he hops up onto his desk, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable.

“It went very well, sir,” Tobias answers with a grin, “Things have been set straight, and a temporary peace agreement was reached to keep the people satisfied until your delegates arrive.”

“Very good, both of you,” Ambrose praises. Tobias’s grin only widens, and Rex signs a humble thank you.

“Oh, and,” Tobias eagerly adds, “On the way back we stopped in at this little bakery in Lydell, and—“

“Lydell?” Ambrose interrupts, “That’s quite a ways off the path back from Nora. What were you two doing there? Is that what took you so long?”

He’s trying to feign seriousness, but the playful quirk of his brow and hint of a chuckle in his voice gives away his humor.

“Mm, maybe,” Tobias says with a sly shrug, “But it was worth it. They had the best strawberry turnovers.”

‘Although T was far more interested in the man behind the counter,’ Rex signs, eyeing his colleague with a lighthearted sort of suspicion.

“I was not,” Tobias quickly protests, “And just how do you figure that, hm?”

‘You kept glancing over at him while you ate. I don’t think you realized you were doing it, but it was obvious to me. Maybe he liked it, though. He kept looking at us, too.’

Tobias huffs, crossing his arms and cursing his inability to pull an argument from thin air like usual. His cheeks are getting warm.

Ambrose laughs, hopping down from his desk and giving Tobias a reassuring pat on the arm.

“So, he was a cutie, huh?” Ambrose chortles, “What was he like?”

“Honestly, cute is an understatement,” Tobias replies, “He was this short, chubby little thing who looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. He was nice, too, and I know he has to be nice to us because, you know, we’re customers, but still. And, I mean, how can you not be interested in someone who makes such heavenly strawberry turnovers?”

“If they’re that good, I shall have to try them some time. See what all the fuss is about. Maybe I’ll have a chance to meet this little baker crush of yours as well.”

“Oh, come on…!”

Ambrose laughs again, unable to stop himself. For a moment Tobias swears he can even see a smile make Rex’s eyes crinkle at the edges despite being hidden by his neck gaiter.

“Well, either way,” Ambrose coos, reaching up to gently cup his guards’ chins in his hands, “You’ve both done very well. Come here.”

Tobias rolls his eyes, but nevertheless they both lean in, allowing their king to give them each a brief kiss on the cheek.

“Good boys. Go on now, you need your rest after such a long trip,” Ambrose says with a wave of his hand before returning to his seat at his desk.

His guards bow briefly, all three of them exchanging well wishes and good nights before the door is shut again, leaving Ambrose alone in his study.

“Cute little baker indeed,” The king mumbles with a laugh, “I’m sure they’ll be going back there…if Tobias has anything to say about it, at least…”

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