#they've met but at what cost

[ghost-proofbaby]

She knows him. She doesn’t know how or why. But she swears it on her life, she knows this pale elf.  She can’t explain the echoing hollow ache that rings out at the up-close sight of him any other way. She knows him, knew him, and had somehow lost him.

summary: aruna meets gale. aruna meets shadowheart. but, somehow, none it matters - they're not astarion, and she's beginning to think this astarion doesn't exist.

wc: 5.3k+

warnings: continued memory loss, more canon violence/gore. a lot of gameplay recount. spoilers for the game below (act 1, ravaged beach).

a/n: anyone else fail that perception check when meeting astarion? just me? that's cool. i can't even be mad when a pretty boy holds a knife to my throat. also, if some of this isn't 100% game accurate/lore accurate, do not come for me. we're here for a good time! not an accurate time!

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Aruna and Astarion. Astarion and Aruna. Aruna – Astarion. 

She echoes the two names in her mind an impossible amount of times. The one name, her name, clicks right into place for her. It makes sense. Her name is Aruna, there’s not a single doubt within her regarding that. And even if there had been, she’s already laid claim to it – she’s already introduced herself to the two strangers she’d managed to stumble upon on the beach as such. 

Shadowheart and Gale. Kind souls, a bit guarded but fair given the circumstances. They share a common affliction, one that Aruna hadn’t even noticed in the daze of her awakening on the beach – a worm in their heads. Literally. 

And she should be pondering more about how odd that is, all the squirming in her brain that she can feel, the way that she managed to connect telepathically with both of these strangers upon running into them, but she isn’t. 

Because, apparently, according to this mysterious letter addressed to her, she’s supposed to save Astarion. And neither of them are Astarion. 

Who the hell is Astarion? 

Maybe it could be one of her new companions; either of them could have lied regarding their name easily. But she had seen into their minds, and they had proven trustworthy so far. Hell, Gale was even offering to cook some sort of dinner for all of them in their current makeshift campsite they had chosen. A clearing in the edge of the woods, not too far from the beach, but certainly not wandering any further than necessary into the unfamiliar grounds they’ve found themselves crashed onto. They’d snagged some bedrolls out of random chests discarded by the crash (they had all doubted the previous owners were even still alive), made a makeshift fire pit in the center of the clearing, and declared it home – for now. 

It didn’t feel like home. Felt the furthest from home Aruna could have possibly been, and she didn’t even remember where her home was. Or if she had one before all of this. 

“What have you got there?” Gale asks casually from where he stands over the dinner he was scrounging together, pulling Aruna away from all her stubborn thoughts.

They had turned one of the fallen trees into a bench of sorts. Waist level and the perfect place for him to carefully cut up mushrooms they had found along their way with a stolen knife they’d secured. It was the beginnings of a home, gut feelings aside. 

“Hm?” Aruna hums, looking up from her palm, closing it on instinct, “What?” 

Gale stops all movement, eyes narrowing in her further at her closed fist, “The stone you’re holding. Did you find it during our travels?” 

Ah. The stone. One of two items she had found in the mysterious pouch on her body. She’d been mindlessly flipping it between her hands, fingers sliding over the smooth surface as she had studied it. Her investigation had proven half useful when she’d realized there was a carving on the flattest surface of the stone – a  crescent moon, just like one of her daggers. 

She could be honest. But for some reason, she feels protective over the stone. Especially after noticing that carving, “Oh, yeah. Saw it on the side of the road and it looked pretty unique. I’ll probably toss it away when we start back up on the road tomorrow.” 

Like Hells will I be letting it out of my sight. 

She doesn’t know much, frustratingly so, but she knows that this unusual stone is not the kind you would stumble upon on the road. Gale clearly knows as much as well, looking entirely unconvinced as they suddenly stare each other down in silence. 

He’s giving her an opportunity to be honest. As if she owes him the truth. 

“It’d be a shame to get rid of such an… unique stone.”

It would be. And he clearly believes it’s far more than a stone. But it only makes her fingers curl far more tightly around the opal, feeling the rough edge of the moon pressing into her skin. 

“Maybe I’ll sell it,” she shrugs, trying to put up an act of indifference, “It looks pretty enough to earn a decent amount of gold, right?” 

As if to prove her point, to further sell this careless act, she lets her hand fall back open. The moon carving is safe against her palm and out of sight, and the stone glimmers in the moonlight. 

“Looks like it would be worth more than just a bit of gold,” Gale says, taking a few steps closer to get a better look. On instinct, Aruna nearly bristles. “That- Are you aware of what that is-”

“Is dinner done?” Shadowheart interrupts with perfect timing. Her distraction lets Aruna quickly move to shove the stone away back into her pouch, having no interest in some sort of lecture from Gale. 

She doesn’t know what it is. But it’s hers, and his hungry eyes on the small artifact are enough to tell her to keep it far away from him. 

“Pardon me?” Gale blinks a few times, taking longer than a normal person might to register Shadowheart’s questions. He’s still focused on Aruna’s hand that now rests emptily against her lap. “Oh! Oh, no. Not quite. Sorry, my hungry friends. Just a few more minutes. It won’t be much but, it’ll be something. Excellent fuel to continue our search for a healer tomorrow, I assure you.”

Shadowheart says something more as she takes a seat on another makeshift bench they’d set up, and Gale responds with ease this time, but Aruna has tuned them both out. 

He’s probably right. Tomorrow, they need to find a healer. She needs to worry more about the worm in her head. She needs to reassess her priorities.

But it’s awfully hard when not only that stone, but that letter burns a hole in her pack, and she’s dreadfully aware that as kind and oddly trusting these people have been given their current situation, neither of them are Astarion.

And the letter said to save Astarion. Not Shadowheart, not Gale, not even herself. But Astarion. 

—

“So, what were your lives like before this entire mess and impending doom of ceremorphosis?”

Gale is a chatty traveling companion. Aruna learns this quickly when they wake the next morning and gather their packs, and she’d even had half the mind to begin a map of sorts so she can mark their camp and the surrounding areas they’ve already explored on it. All her sketches, trees and scribbles to depict the Nautiloid crash, are abysmal at best. But it’s something. If they can just be smart, if they can just be aware of their surroundings, they might be able to continue to call their perfect clearing home. 

Besides, none of them really wanted to continue to carry every single thing they had gathered thus far in their packs. 

Whatever they left surely is at risk of being found by others wandering, and they could be robbed blind of any supplies left behind, but Aruna is just glad for the lack of an ache in her back as she adjusts her pack. 

Shadowheart nearly trips over her steps, as if not expecting the question and clearly panicking over what to say, but Aruna decides to speak up first.

“I can’t remember,” she says plainly, monotonous as she continues to confidently stride forward. They’re nearly back to the main path they had discovered, and something is tugging her back in the direction of that damned beach. 

Shadowheart trips again, and this time, Aruna truly can’t tell if it’s due to shock or simply not watching where she was going in her effort to keep up. 

“What?” Gale chuckles under his breath, as though Aruna’s told a joke. He’s keeping pace with her fairly impressively, “I know this entire journey thus far has been fairly startling, but a symptom of ceremorphosis is not memory loss. Surely, you remember at least where you’re from.” 

“I don’t,” Aruna finally slows, letting Shadowheart fall into place on her right as she faces Gale, “I… I have no memories from before the ship. I must have just hit my head exceptionally hard, or maybe that worm is digging around in places in my brain that it isn’t in yours.” 

It’s a bold show of trust. She should feel more resistance towards laying out her troublesome internal quarrel so plainly to Gale, but she doesn’t. It’s almost as easy as fiddling with her daggers by the campfire, or mindlessly flipping around that stone in her pack. 

She should trust him, shouldn’t she?

Yes, something screams inside of her. The thing she felt locked up inside of her finally finds its voice, it seems, as it calls to her, you should trust him. Trust him with all that you have. 

The issue, of course, is that Aruna doesn’t have much. Material-wise nor of internal self. 

She has daggers. She has a pretty stone. She has a tarnished ring. She has a name. She has instructions to save Astarion, whoever that elusive bastard may be.

She doesn’t have much to offer. To trust with. 

“How very interesting,” Gale murmurs as he looks at her with nothing but unbridled curiosity, “Well, as I said, it’s not a symptom of ceremorphosis. As far as I’ve read, at least.”

Aruna eyes him wearily, instinct to trust be damned, “Yes, you seem to do a lot of that.” 

He throws his head back in a laugh and- why does it pull on her heartstrings like something of recognition? Why does something about this very moment all feel so familiar? 

The deja vu nearly makes Aruna sick, Gale completely unaware as he says, “Reading? Why, yes, I do. A hungry mind is crucial to surviving this world, I’ve found.” 

Why is his laughter so familiar? Why does it spark a flicker of warmth in her chest, as though he’s some old friend she’s shared endless laughs with while gathered around a fire? 

It terrifies her. 

It was different, inanimate objects holding that flame of warmth and unlocking pieces of her. Daggers carved with nighttime symbols and a stone to match don’t scare Aruna; real people that she might have real history with do. 

“I’m sure your hungry mind is very happy, then, having been fed a worm worthy of a feast,” she tries to say it snappily, but it still all comes out a bit flat. 

And Gale only laughs more – Gods, she wishes he would stop, so that the waves of a memory she can’t catch will finally recede – and it’s clear he’s not affected by her defenses. 

He finally tilts his eyes back forward, trained on her, a ghost of a smile still lingering, “Ah, well, not quite. I prefer feasts of words, of knowled-”

“You know what else is crucial to surviving this world?” Shadowheart interrupts, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in a clear sign of her losing patience, “Finding a healer, and getting rid of the worm. Shall we carry on?” 

Aruna shares a final glance with Gale, and can’t help but also find the corners of her mouth twitching up, a mirror to his own. For the first time in several days, it almost feels as though she might have a friend. The exact opposite result of what she had intended by trying to be particularly sharp and even a bit sarcastic, but she doesn’t fight it. 

Instead, she nods to Shadowheart, and Gale motions for her to take the front as he bows, “Lead on, as you were.” 

Gale is not Astarion. She has no instructions to save him. And yet, she can’t help but feel her defenses are too weak, given the way he’s beginning to crack them with so few prods. Maybe his inquiry regarding her stone had been in genuine curiosity, a hungry mind as he had put it. Maybe he’s just trying to be friendly. Maybe he has good intentions after all. 

Maybe she does know him, and maybe her letter had just forgotten to add another crucial reminder.

Maybe she’ll add it when she gets back to camp. 

She can see it now, as if the words have already been solidified by pen to paper: P.S.S DO NOT FORGET TO FIND A FRIEND IN GALE. 

—

Shadowheart is far from amused when Aruna leads them back to the beach. Yet, to be fair, it’s hers and Gale’s fault for following her so blindly.

She knows there’s no healer on the beach. But something is calling her back to it. 

“The-” Shadowheart starts the moment the sand comes back into view. Trailings of sand mingle with the dirt below their feet, “We’re back on the beach? Haven’t we already established that there’s no healer on this ravished thing?” 

“Good name for it,” Aruna whispers more for herself than her companions, considering adding that to her map when they retire for the night. She turns to face Shadowheart and forces a smile. A kind, disarming type of look in hopes that the girl will just trust her, “Call it a gut feeling. I just feel like we missed something here.” 

“A gut feeling? We’ve already looted all the corpses. What more could there possibly be?”

“We only checked one side of the beach.”

“Yes, because to get to the other side, we’ll have to go through the damn crash rubble. Filled with those- those brain things.” 

“There’s three of us. I have faith.”

“I-”

Gale’s head turns back and forth, bouncing between the arguing girls. He seems perfectly content to add any commentary, almost at ease with the current argument, until Aruna’s hand moves to her hip.

Aruna is quick to pull a dagger from one of her sheaths. Immediately, all relaxed state of being drains from Gale, him paling and stepping forward to finally insert himself between them, “Woah, now! I don’t think there’s any need to-”

“I’m not going to stab her, Gale,” Aruna huffs. Shadowheart doesn’t look very convinced as Aruna focuses on her once more, dagger still hovering up in their line of sight, “I was trying to make a point – we have weapons. Gale has magic. And you’ve said you’re a cleric, which means you can heal. I doubt those ‘brain things’ – devourers, by the way, is the correct term – will even lay a claw on us between all our varying skill sets. If you don’t want to go to the other side of the beach, then don’t. I can’t force you. But you’ve both put your faith in me this far, what harm can a little more do?” 

The speech works. She doesn’t expect it to. She expects them to laugh at her, or walk away from her, or for Shadowheart to even start a proper fight. 

They don’t. 

They follow her right into danger, no hesitation. The wizard she’d saved from a portal in some cliff-side rock and the cleric she’d awoken on the beach when she’d stumbled upon her, faithful to her to a damaging fault. Even when the intellect devourers do attack, just as Shadowheart had worried they would, neither utter a single word so much as sounding like the well-deserved ‘I told you so’. 

They just use their skill sets. The very ones Aruna had pointed out. Her daggers, Shadowheart’s cleric artillery, Gale’s infallible spells – they use them for all they’re worth, until each of those brains are unrecognizable on the ground. 

And best (or possibly worst) of all, Aruna discovers something new about herself.

Her magic. 

She hadn’t even been sure if she held any useful skills beyond being decently good with her daggers thus far, but as one of those brains had trampled towards her, she had felt it. A warm hum beneath her skin, erratic and wild as can be, begging for release. 

Release it, she did. The final brain falls from the power of the fire bolt that flies from her fingertips, not even leaving her so much as marked. 

Gale notices immediately, Shadowheart still scoping out the area for any more enemies. 

“A fellow magic wielder, it seems,” he grins, motioning vaguely to her hands, “Now, if only we knew what kind.” 

What kind? 

“If you have no memory of your life before the ship, I’m correct to assume you aren’t very knowledgeable in the boundaries of your magic, yes?” She hadn’t even realized she had said the thought out loud until Gale is in front of her, still rambling, a light of intrigue in his eyes, “There’s wizards such as yours truly,” he pauses, and motions over himself in flourish, “As well as warlocks. Those, however, usually answer to a patron. So unless you’ve had any strange callings to any great deities over the last few nights… well, it’s off the table, I suppose.” 

“I haven’t,” she croaks, still looking down at her fingertips in shock. Magic. She still feels it now. Probably could have felt it this entire time, had she not been so distracted by the tadpole, the headaches, the memory loss. It’s fluid and tangible, something bursting through her veins for her taking, “I- What would that even feel like?”

“You’d know,” Gale says most assuredly, “Trust me. Besides, your patron probably would have already found you by now.”

“So, I’m a wizard?” 

Gale is quick to shake his head as Shadowheart walks back over to them, “Not necessarily. It’s certainly an option, and would make you a magic wielder who learned their knowledge of the Weave through studies. But there’s also other possibilities – sorcerers, paladins, clerics. They all have the ability to wield some magic. Druids, too, although theirs are usually more of the healing nature. And, well… the nature variety in general.” 

All words that make little sense to Aruna. She gives it a moment, waits to see if her muddled brain might catch up and offer her a little help in understanding, but it’s all in vain. 

“I should know these things,” she whispers, so quietly that both Gale and Shadowheart have to lean in to hear her small tone. It’s the first time she’s openly shown such emotion with them – something like devastation, laced with frustration. The inability to remember, to know, as they do. “Even if my memories of my life before this evade me, I should know these things.” 

Shadowheart speaks up in a tone unlike any other she had used on their journey, “They might still return to you yet, or there might be a greater reason for it all. Don’t give up hope.”

“And if they don’t return to you,” Gale interjects, the air of casualty returning to him as he gives a lopsided grin, “Well, I can always teach you about it all. I have books back at camp.” 

“You have books?” Out of all the things just said, it was probably the most odd for Aruna to latch onto, but she still looks at him befuddled, “Where in the Hells did you just get… books on all this? Did you loot them off of-”

“Bag of holding,” he answers as though it was obvious. 

Great. Awesome. A bag of holding. Because Aruna totally knew what that was. 

“Let’s just keep moving,” she moves on, letting it go. Maybe she’ll take him up on his offer, maybe she won’t. If anything else, she’ll just inquire more about whatever the Hells a bag of holding is later on, back at camp, “I can see the other side of the beach over there.” 

It’s Shadowheart and Gale’s turn to exchange a look, and slowly but surely, it’s feeling as though more than just the tadpoles in their mind are connecting them. Threads are being spun, small connections that are painfully mundane yet easily connecting these three strangers. They could all be friends, if they really wanted to. It might even make their survival a little bit easier. It might make their travels a little lighter.

Aruna can worry about friendship once she’s found Astarion, though. The faceless stranger mentioned in passing on a letter, the one person she’s been tasked with saving.

She doesn’t even know who he, or she, or they are. This mysterious name – it really means nothing to her. All she has to reasonably cling to it is that ridiculous letter. If she were to confide in her two companions about it, she’d probably get an earful, and truly be abandoned. They wanted to seek out a cure to the imminent danger within their heads, and she was sending them on a wild goose chase for Astarion. 

Does this Astarion even have a tadpole as well? Is that how she’s meant to save them? And if they don’t, does that mean that they’ll help her with her issue first, and then she saves them? 

Does she have to save them in order to rid herself of the tadpole? 

It’s all giving her a headache by the time their group of three is slowly walking up the slope of the sliver of beach they’ve discovered, taking small yet sturdy steps along the side of the crashed ship. Gale, thankfully, has stopped his nervous rambling (because, Aruna realized, that’s what it was. His nerves, controlling his tongue endlessly, trying to fill the dreadful silence for even the smallest bit of comfort. It almost makes her feel bad for being grateful for the quiet).

She must have been thinking about her questions hard enough for some mysterious power out in the Universe to hear her, however. Because they’d hardly been walking for a few minutes, she’d hardly been left to all her confusion and cursing of the damn name for such little time, when she sees him. 

Him. Decent height, pure white hair, pale skin that is nearly blinding in the harsh sunlight. 

Him. With eyes so red, she can see them from this distance. They almost match the shades of crimson that haunt her nightmares. 

Him. Who is currently, pathetically, calling out for help. 

“What the-” Shadowheart begins. And Aruna doesn’t notice it, but she starts to reach out to grab the elf by her elbow before she’s beginning to dart up the hill, falling right into the trap. 

Both of her companions, Shadowheart in her guarded glory and Gale in his perpetual state of anxiety, can’t even stop her. Neither dare to breathe out a word as she approaches the pale elf, but she can feel their disapproval as she comes up beside him. 

“You,” he breathes out, half crouched, eyes darting towards the bushes, “Hurry. I’ve got one of those brain things cornered,” he turns and points towards the bushes, assuming where the said brain thing has been lured, “There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others.” 

She should have been smarter. She should have been more perceptive. She should have heard Gale’s deep breath as he prepared to warn her against getting any closer. 

But she wasn’t. 

She’s a damned fool, a lamb to the slaughter, as she nods and whispers out an immediate, “Of course.” 

There’s no brain thing that has been cornered. The only thing that has been lured is Aruna; one moment, she’s leaning in to get a closer look into the bushes, and the next, a wild boar is skittering out. 

That’s not what catches her off guard.

The blade to her throat is what does it. Quickly, with unsettling ease, before she feels the elf’s arms wrapping around her and bringing them both down to the ground. 

Oh, fuck me. 

He has her trapped. She knows it, he knows it, and both her companions know it. She was an idiot and got exactly what was coming for her. 

All her survival instincts kick in immediately, causing her to trash in his arms, a painful whine coming out as she can feel the cold metal digging deeper into the delicate skin of her neck. 

And all the pale elf does is shush her gently, “Sh, sh, sh, sh. Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” 

His words do little to deter her. He starts to argue with her companions who have finally come to their senses, keeping a safe distance all while spilling out carefully calculated threats to the stranger, but she can’t hear them over the blood rushing in her ears. One hand feebly grabs onto his that is wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, the other reaching for his elbow. She tries to tug the weapon away from her, but he’s strong. It’s a fruitless battle. 

Aruna swears she hears Shadowheart insist she needs her alive. Gale saying something regarding the way he’ll make the elf regret it if he brings Aruna any harm. She can’t be sure. 

The longer his steady grip on her shoulder lingers, the more familiar it begins to become. His leg, trapping both of hers so that she can’t kick out of his grasp, is also familiar. Familiar, familiar, familiar. 

His lips are moving as he stares up at her companions, but it’s only once his eyes narrow back on Aruna that her heart slows and she can hear him properly once more. 

“Now,” he nearly purrs, voice low, dangerous, “I saw you on the ship, didn’t I?” 

She presses her lips together tightly, still trying to maintain her struggle to get out of his grasp. Her teeth grit from the effort, arms shaking violently. 

“Nod,” he commands, nearly condescendingly, and synapses fire off in the darkest corners of her brain. 

I know that voice. 

She almost feels as though she has no control over her body as her head nods on instinct, blade dropping from her neck to her chest now. 

“Splendid. And now, you’re going to tell me what you and those tentacled freaks did to me.” 

I know that voice. 

The same thing deep within her chest that had unfurled at the sight of Gale’s laughter, that had called her to the beach, that had lit up with recognition at the sight of her daggers – it’s wide awake now. Staring through her eyes at his own rubies, tracing every outline of every wrinkle, every curve, every imperfection. She knows his voice. She knows him. 

It weeps at the sight of him, and she has no idea why. The same strings that clench when she reads over her letter, when she let her eyes trace over the words ‘My dearest Aruna’ and the heavily underlined name of Astarion, are now pulled taut. 

She knows him. She doesn’t know how or why. But she swears it on her life, she knows this pale elf. 

She can’t explain the echoing hollow ache that rings out at the up-close sight of him any other way. She knows him, knew him, and had somehow lost him.

Her lack of an answer clearly irritates him, but he’s cut off by whatever quip he had perched on his tongue by the sudden connection. She doesn’t understand it, whether it be due to the new rolling thunder of the most intense deja vu she’s experienced yet or if it were a simple side effect of the tadpole, but each connection via the tadpole has become more painful. More intense. 

She’d first noticed the difference between it happening with Shadowheart versus Gale. 

And now, she notices it an impossible amount with this stranger. 

It’s nauseating as their minds connect, sharp and quick as if their two brains had been laying in wait for this very moment. It feels as though it goes beyond the tadpoles, beyond their shared affliction and terrible predicament. 

She sees bustling taverns and lively night streets, yes, but there’s something more there. Something missing. She’d felt it with Gale as well, an emptiness neither of them could seemingly unlock. But with this one, it’s far more intense than it had been previously. Like gaping wounds being presented to her, interspersed with the exchange of both his memories and… well, the lack of hers beyond the Nautiloid ship, she sees gaps. Spaces to be filled. Questions to be answered. 

I know that voice, the thing in her whimpers, I know this man. 

She doesn’t even care to hold onto the memory. She lets it slip away, wishing the pain would, too. 

But it lingers. 

Not just for her, but for him as well. His grip entirely loosens on her as he winces, a soft gasp falling from his lips as he begins to question, “What was that-”

She doesn’t care to listen to his question. In an instant, she’s pulled away, rolling out of his reach before standing steady on both feet. The pain leftover from the connection fuels her as she holds a hand out, and her magic thrums steadily with her heart as electricity crackles in the palm. 

Neither Gale nor Shadowheart make a single move as she holds out that palm, watching the elf’s every moment as he also rises to meet her. But he’s no longer hostile, hand holding his dagger now limp as he lets it rest at his side. 

“You’re… not one of them,” he says slowly, shame briefly flickering over his features before being replaced with something more despairing, “They took you. Just the same as me.” 

Her fingers shake in front of her as blue bolts continue to flicker amongst them, forming spasming webs between her knuckles. She could obliterate him, if she wanted. Right here, right now, she finally has the upper-hand. 

But she doesn’t. And in her hesitation, she can see him still reeling just as she was from their connection. She swears she can hear the pounding in his head syncing to hers, perfectly in time with one another.

The thing inside her claims to know him, but she doesn’t even know his name. 

I know him. Don’t hurt him. 

She sort of hates that internal dialogue. That true monster inside of her that had been the reason she hadn’t hesitated in her running to his rescue. It was the reason that she’d ended up with a knife against her throat, and she’s praying it’s not the reason for her death as she listens and closes her hand into a soft fist, releasing the hold on her magic momentarily. 

He watches her do it. His face relaxes, a charming smile gracing it now instead. 

“And to think, I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. My sincerest apologies.” 

She highly doubts just how sincere that apology is, but she’s unphased all the same. 

“Apology accepted,” she sighs, swiping her palm on the side of her now dirty pants. Somewhere beneath the dust she’s now covered in, there’s blood from the intellect devourers, but that’s a problem for tonight. Not now, “I would have done the same thing.”

No, I wouldn’t have. From the very first moment I saw you, all I wanted to do was help. Every instinct in me screamed to help you. 

She’s lying, but she really doesn’t care that she’s lying. He has a tadpole. He can join them. She doesn’t care.

Back in the forefront of her mind, even ahead of the damned tadpole and the need for a healer, the need to keep them all alive, her brain is back to whispering of this Astarion. The quicker she carries out this predictable conversation, the quicker they can get back on the road. And the quicker she can find whoever Astarion is-

“I’m out of wine and flowers, so I hope an introduction will suffice,” his blood-red eyes meet hers, and something in her gut twists. As if she already knows. As if she’s just realized that she’s missed the obvious. “My name is Astarion. I was in Balder’s Gate when-”

Astarion. Save Astarion. Astarion. 

All the breath leaves her lungs as she interrupts, “You’re Astarion?”

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

.

[keyotosprompts]

in between ᯓ★

jealousy prompts (oooooo)

⇴ person a sees person b absolutely hit it off with person c (and is very obviously pained because of it). person b comes over to talk to person a, but is only met with awkward conversation instead of the same boisterous talks they usually have.

⇴ person b sees person a with another person, and they have to bite down on their lip so hard whenever person a talks about the other person, because deep down person b wishes that a was with them (this was more pining than jealousy but oh well).

⇴ "was that a good conversation?" "oh... yeah. it was great" "great." [and there's this thick, awkward silence afterwards].

⇴ person a wishes that they could be person b. person b has it all: charisma, hilariousness, the friends, the partner, etc. (but maybe person a isn't jealous of person b... maybe person a is desperately craving person b's attention and that's why they're jealous)

⇴ person b is watching person a from afar, chatting it up with this other person. b has a strong urge to pull a away from everyone and pull a into b's own little world, but refuses because they want to keep a happy, even if it's at a cost at b's own happiness.

⇴ person a and person b are dating, and person a just finished a conversation with someone person b was jealous of. when they get home, person b is a bit more clingier and so much more touchy. cue a's teasing and b hiding their face in the crook of a's neck.

⇴ ^ "so... are you finally gonna admit you were jealous?" "uh, no, because i wasn't" (b says as they press kisses to a's neck and hold a close to their body).

⇴ "you guys look good together." "really?" (and a/b wants to shout NO!!!!!!)

⇴ "and i love you. i love it when you do the double-tuck thing with your hair when you're nervous, does [person c] notice that? do they know that when you shove your hands in your pockets, you're really just doing it so you can fidget without anyone knowing? or, what about the way you look at people–" and person a is in total shock the whole time.

⇴ "i can't take it anymore. i want–need you. i don't care about what [person c] thinks, i only care about you. tell me you need me too, and i'll stay."

⇴ person b is sulking after seeing person a reunite with someone they've been close to since forever (think family friend...yikes). person a thinks it's adorable and goes to "comfort" b by peppering their face with kisses and giving them words of affirmation.

⇴ "hey" kiss on the jaw "you don't have anything to worry about" kiss on the corner of the lips "i chose you for a reason" kiss on the temple "you're the one i love" kiss on the lips.

⇴ ^^ cut to person b being like "really?" with a cheeky grin.

⇴ person a is about to reach out to person b, only to see person b walk past them to go see person c. person a turns around to person c and immediately feels flooded with comparisons. specifically, "why don't they like me like they like them?"

⇴ person a is constantly checking the relationship status of person b, and their heart always aches when they continue to see person c's username in person b's bio.

[oncomingnight]

Yandere! boyfriend x fem reader

Malik is the sweetest guy you've ever come across and his charisma doesn't even come at a cost. You've never met anyone, no matter the gender, that was as attentive and humorous as him. Malik could care less if he's making himself look like a fool as long as he's graced with the presence of your heartwarming smile. His humor consists of material you'd only ever expect to hear out of the mouth of a teenage boy which is what makes his jokes so much funnier.

He doesn't need an international holiday in order to spoil you with stuffed animals, sweets and handwritten letters, he already gifts you all those things for the simple fact that he wants to. Malik is always showing up to your shared apartment with a bouquet of flowers in hand as he feels like the worst man to ever walk the Earth if he does otherwise.

Letting you pay for yourself is something he'll never allow you to do, as long as he's with you of course. He can't exactly stop you from doing so if he's not physically next to you (rare occurrence)but he has his own way of handling that issue. He'll notice if you seemed to have purchased something with your own money while he wasn't around, and immediately reach into his pocket in an effort to pay you back.

"You look so pretty, baby. Is that a new lipgloss?" "Yeah it is, I bought it when we were at the market the other day!" "Oh yeah? How much was it, baby? I'll give you your money back, just let me know if you want something next time, okay? I don't care if I look like I'm busy with something else, I have all the time in the world when it comes to you."

While we're on the topic of time I think this is the perfect moment to mention the fact that Malik is extremely possessive over not only you but also your time. Nothing gets him more upset than when the two of you are out together at a public setting and your friends attempt at pulling all of your attention away from him. In reality, your friends are simply making conversation with you and they actually make several attempts at including him in the conversation. This, however, doesn't matter to Malik one bit, he can see right through their 'good people' personas.

Malik practically battles with other people when it comes to having your full attention on him. It's not even a case where you're not appreciating how greatly he treats you, no. He is the one who is urging himself to be the absolute best for you before someone attempts at lifting you off of your feet and away from him. He finds it incredibly comedic when others attempt at acting as if they could ever understand or know you as well as he does. There have been many instances where he's gotten you the perfect gift and he just can't help but look on at the other party attendees with pity, as they all now know that you won't be as satisfied with their presents.

Is Malik a possessive boyfriend (soon to be husband)? Yes. Although, this doesn't mean he won't allow you to have girl trips/sleepovers. If you're having a girls trip in an area with a completely different time zone, this will not prevent Malik from staying up as late and early as he needs in order to call and wish you a good morning.

He will keep you on the phone for extremely extended amounts of time (not that you mind). Your friends could try their absolute hardest at being irritated towards his constant need to be near you and to call you but they just can't. Malik is so sickeningly sweet to you that they'd be seen as bitter people that are just jealous due to the fact they've never been as loved and cared for as you are now.

Malik didn't exactly grow up in the most accepting house hold, even as a child, he felt as though he was constantly walking on eggshells with his parents. His parents were raised with extremely aggressive religious views that would quite obviously intimidate the average person, this caused him to be raised in an environment where even cartoons most people deemed as 'kid friendly' were forbidden. Anything that wasn't blatantly religious was seen as unholy, his parents wanted him to uphold the stereotypical attitude of toxic manhood that even him doing simple acts of skincare were seen as something to 'look out for'.

This extremely damaged environment he was raised in just may be the reason as to why he doesn't speak to his family anymore and why he loves so ferociously, like a rabid animal. I don't know though, it's not like I make the rules or anything.

He absolutely adores doing anything and everything romantic with you, especially within the comfort of your own home. When the holidays roll around, there's nothing he loves more than brewing up two cups of iced coffee, sporting matching onesies, baking Christmas cookies and lighting up the fire place as the moon shines into your shared bedroom window.

Well, there is one thing he loves more than all of that.

That's you.

Edit: credit to @cafekitsune for the divider ♡

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

new hs history teacher(/basketball coach ofc) steve who is being shown around the school by gym teacher chrissy.

she takes him around the building to show him where the teacher's lounge is, the cafeteria, what bathrooms to avoid at all costs, and to where her office is if he ever needs anything.

"If I'm not here, I'm probably in Robbie's class over in the language department."

"Robbie?"

"Robin, my partner. She officially teaches ASL, but she likes to join in on the others' lessons whenever she has downtime."

Finally, once they've covered the whole length of the school, she brings him to his room. "So this is you, and right next door is Eddie, our Criminalistics teacher." gesturing to the still-dark window of the door directly across from his in the alcove. 

There's polaroids covering nearly every inch of the outside of the door, pictures of what he can only assume are students with the same dark-haired man.

"Criminalistics?"

"It's a science elective," she explains, "It focuses on the basics of forensic science!"

"Wow that’s…really?"

She nods enthusiastically, "It’s super interesting,” she nods, moving to unlock the empty what-will-be history classroom. “Eddie’s here on even days, and in the music room on odd days for the guitar elective classes."

"Anything I should know about my wall neighbor?" he asks as she pushes the door open.

It looks like she's going to say no, but something flickers across her face and she winces minutely.

"Oh god, what is it?"

She looks at him sheepishly, "How do you feel about metal music?"

--

Since his tour in mid June, Steve's completely overhauled his classroom. 

The only room available to him was the one down here in the science hall, but he made do, plastering removable whiteboard contact paper to the tops of the lab tables and a little reminder at each spot for the students about his less-than-stellar hearing, to make sure they speak up when answering a question from the back of the room.

And ever since he got his room, he'd been waiting for the day he finally meets his neighbor.

He met Chrissy's Robbie the same day he had the tour, and they clicked instantly (No seriously, how did he ever function before Robin?). Chrissy had made the comment about them being platonic soulmates one night in August when they'd gone out for one too many drinks, and it's stuck ever since.

Speaking of: "What are you still doing here, dingus? It's almost five."

"Yeah, I know, I know," he says, waving her off.

Robin comes in from the hall and plops herself down on one of the table tops instead of helping him hang a map behind his desk. "You're still adding stuff to your walls?"

"Well, I haven't been here for a couple years already, Bobs," he grits out as he stretches up on his toes to hang the far corner of his map. Finally, the eyelet hooks over the many-times-painted-over hook embedded in the concrete wall. "So yes."

"Well you can finish up tomorrow, we," she emphasizes the word by dramatically waving the same sign with her hand between them, "Have a burger date to get to." 

--

The following day, the day before the school year officially starts, Steve arrives early to his classroom, only to find his neighbor's classroom lit up as well.

The be-polaroided door is propped open all the way, the sound of heavy drums and guitar streaming out the door along with the faint smell of moth balls and a spicy incense.

His own room forgotten, Steve steps through Mr. Munson's doorway.

Eddie is standing behind his desk at the front of the room, but hunched over it scribbling onto something.

When Steve's shoe squeaks against the tile floor, Eddie says "Hey, what do you think, identifying skeletal remains, or blood spatter first?" without looking up at him.

"Skeletons, of course." Eddie's head snaps up to look at him. His huge dark eyes are much more striking in person than in a photo. "Much more interesting, yeah?"

Eddie blinks at him. "You're not Chrissy."

"You're correct."

Eddie blinks again, "Who're you?"

"Oh, sorry, hi. I'm Steve. I'm your new neighbor." he gives the other man an awkward wave when he still doesn't move. "Sorry, should I--" he says, gesturing over his shoulder with a thumb.

"No!" Eddie interrupts, standing straight and hurrying out from around his desk. 

He extends a hand and jogs lightly up to Steve. His pen is still laced into his fingers, the end of it chewed flat. "Oh shit, sorry, sorry," he tucks the pen behind his ear, "I'm Eddie. Munson."

"I know," Steve smirks, taking Eddie's hand. "I've been waiting to meet you."

"Oh have you?" he smirks.

"Yeah, Chrissy told me you're her best friend and I wanted your advice on maybe asking her out."

Eddie's face hardens immediately, the warm milk chocolate of his eyes curing into a solid dark, the easy smirk morphing into a cringe as he looks Steve up and down.

He opens his mouth to say something particularly scathing, Steve's sure, but he cuts him off before he can. "I'm kidding, man, I know she's with Robin."

His expression softens just a bit.

"Plus, she's not really my type anyway, even if I were hers."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I'm more into brunettes." Steve winks, finally releasing Eddie's hand. "I still have a bit more to get done, but I'll check in with you later?"

"Oh--yeah, for sure, I'll be here." Eddie stammers out, his cheeks tinged pink.

Steve fist pumps in his head as he heads to his door, You still got it, Harrington.

[skipper1331]

Protective Moms // Jessie Fleming

a/n: based off this request. Hope you like it :)

Matchday.

Canada vs the United States.

Girlfriend vs girlfriend.

Jess and you met in London, both playing for the blues.

The two of you hit off straight away, same interests, same sense of humor, you were similar in many ways but also so different that you completed each other perfectly. It came as no surprise when you revealed your relationship to your Chelsea teammates. They loved you together.

Only the Chelsea girls knew about you though. You both thought it was important to tell them yet you couldn't tell your national teammates. You kept your personal life private which is why you decided to tell them in person and not through the phone.

Considering that Tobin Heath played for Arsenal you could've told her as well as Christen Press but to be honest you were afraid. Tobin was one of the first players to approach you after you had your first call-up. She took you under her wig and became a mentor. So did Christen. You respected them so much and despite the fact that you would do anything for Jess, you were still afraid that Tobin and Christen would be disappointed in you. Or worse, if you introduce Jessie and they wouldn't like her.

As the Call-Up for camp came you were excited. You loved the chelsea girls but you also missed your friends at home. What you didn‘t like though was that you would play a friendly against Canada. There was always a certain rivalry in those games, it was physical, intense and nobody goes down without a fight.

As usual, you wore your headphones on the bus ride to the stadium. Next to you sat Rose, your bus buddy, while Press and Heath sat in the row next to you. They'd be lying if they didn't say that they noticed you checking your phone a lot and smiling at it. However, they didn’t do anything about it. If you wanted to tell them something, they would be there but they wouldn't force you to. They've known you long enough to know how you handle things.

Flem🔥

Can I have your shirt later? x

You

Only If I get yours too xx

Flem🔥

deal

Shortly after the game started, the first slide tackles came from both teams.

The game was balanced, sometimes Canada had their chances and sometimes your team, the goalkeepers definitely had something to do.

Jess and you didn‘t interact much, yes, off pitch you’re a couple but rivals on the field. The only interaction was when Canada had a corner kick and you pressed your body against hers. The canadian would bet that you did it on purpose as your breath hit the back of her neck. It made her go crazy, weak in the knees. Well, after all, it was the first time in 2 weeks that she saw you and could feel your proximity. (Spoiler: whether she had seen you or not, she still would have had weak knees and a racing heart. She always had when she’s near you)

It was 0-0 at half time. A solid result, but not satisfying.

Every single player on the field got more eager to score which resulted in more ruthless tackles.

You were in the opponent's half when Chapman took the ball away from you. Immediately you’re after her to get the ball back. You’re close behind her as she played a pass, her elbow slamming with so much strength in your face, right on your nose. "Fuck" you couldn‘t even scream out of pain because it hurt so much. You fell to the ground as you held your nose, your head hitting the ground. The game continued without anyone noticing that you were lying there. The only one who noticed was the person who caused it, she was standing by your side yelling at the referee. The game was only paused after a number of boo‘s from the stands and as soon as your girlfriend saw you curled up on the floor she ran to you as fast as she could. "Get the fuck away from her!" the brunette shoved Chapman as she kneeled down. She wasn't one to swear, but seeing you on the ground? It turned her into someone else, a protector who must protect you, her girl, at all costs. "Can you take your hands out of your face?" the sweet voice of your girl asked, taking a hold on your wrists. Just as she was about to pull your hands down slowly an angry Tobin Heath pushed her body to the ground, "Don‘t touch her" she hissed. Wrong move. Because when Tobin touched the young Canadian, Sinclair stepped in, "You don‘t touch her"

While Heath and Sinclair provoked each other, Christen went completely nuts on the bench. Still no medic team anywhere near you. Jess was by your side again, your hands out of your face as she could see the blood that was spread across your face. Definitely a broken nose and a possible black eye. You hated blood. You'll immediately feel nauseous and dizzy when you see it whether it’s your own or someone else's. "The medics are almost there, love. Keep your eyes open" her voice laced with worry as your eyes kept closing.

Finally, when the medic team arrived, they tried to stop the bleeding. After a minute or two everything seemed to be fine and you were able to stand up again which turned out to be a big mistake because as soon as you got back on your feet you passed out. They didn't know if it was because of the blood you saw or because the knock was so bad. Either way, you got substituted.

"Sub me off! I need to be with her. Please" Jess begged as she saw you getting carried of the field in the stretcher. Sinc had never seen the small Canadian so desperate while talking to their coach.

Unfortunately, Chris, who actually wanted to be by your side, was subbed on for you.

When Jess got subbed off which was 5 played minutes later she ran to the medic room. She had never felt so helpless.

On the pitch, your mentors played sloppy, everyone could see that your injury effected them. Canada as well couldn't play accurately without one of their key players. The game was dominated by bad passes and missed shots.

"How is she?" Jess questioned as she entered the room, "Broken nose and a little concussion."

You were lying on the bed, your nose bandaged with plasters, sleeping. As the last medic team member left the room the canadian sat next to you on a chair. She held your hand while her thumb stroked over your knuckles.

"I would swap shirts but mine is blood stained" you murmured. Your throat was sore but your face hurt less than before, the painkillers slowly working. "Please don‘t joke" the girl whispered, still not able to calm down "I was so worried"

"My girl, i‘m a fighter-"

The door was swung open as a worried Christen Press entered with Tobin Heath behind her, "Are you ok- What are you doing here?" the same woman asked who pushed Jess away from you.

Frightened, the canadian jumped out of her seat, turning to look at your team moms. Chris with a smile on her face, connecting the dots while Tobs had a scowl on hers. "Um.. I.." your girlfriend stuttered as she let go of your hand.

"Jess is my girlfriend"

"What?!"

You groaned as your head ache got worse due the loud noise, your hands massaging your temples. "What did the doc say?" united states number 23 asked, placing her hand on Tobins back, changing the subject. "Broken nose, little concussion. I need to rest" you answered. Tobin was glaring at your lover who was shuffling with her feet. "We‘ll talk about this, madame" the veteran said before she left the room. She was concerned about you but the news that the canadian was your girl was something she had to process first.

Her little boo with a girlfriend.

She‘d witnessed your highlights, watched you grow in the game, supported you, accompanied you at the lowest point in your career. You had been through a lot together, so maybe it was her pride that hurt because you didn't tell her earlier about your love story and that she had to find out about it through an injury, almost going for Chapman's throat because of that, by the way.

"She‘ll come around" Christen said as she saw how your face saddened, "I‘ll talk to her" she went to your side before she pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead to assure you that everything will be fine.

"Maybe we all could get some coffee?" the suggestion coming from Jessie, "If you want to get to know me? Officially, i mean"

-

A few days later you‘re sitting at a little coffee shop waiting for your team moms to show up. Jess was next to you, holding your hand. It was unclear who was trying to calm whom. The brunette was nervous because she was meeting people you cared so much about and wanted to show them she was worthy of your love and you were nervous because you wanted them to like Jessie.

"Hi" you both greeted synchronously, slightly giggling at one another. "Hey" the dark haired women pressed a kiss to your forehead as she hugged you, carefully not to touch your injured nose. Jess stretched out her hand for Tobin to shake as she repeated her greeting. "Hello" the forward replied, accepting her hand. You felt relief as you saw their little interaction. Christen had definitely spoken to the forward about her behavior a few days ago.

The four of you talked for a while, there was no tension or anything negative. Everybody was enjoying the 'parents meet kids girlfriend'-meeting, it even seemed like scary Tobin Heath liked Jessie but there was this one question on the tip of her tongue that she wanted answered. "Jessie, I need to ask you this" she started as Jess looked at you nervously, your hand finding her thigh, "What are your intentions with y/n?"

She rested her elbows on the table, leaning forward to show her authority, Jess gulping under Tobins stare "Well," helplessly, she looked at CP who, however, was also waiting for an answer. Just because she, in terms of her protectiveness, acted calm and collected didn‘t mean she didn't want a straight answer to the question. She also had to know if your girlfriend was enough for you. "I love her. Umm, we‘re young but.. umm.. hopefully she‘ll be my wife one day" the canadian didn‘t really know how to answer that question. Her intensions were only good ones.

She wants to make you happy.

She wants to make you proud.

She wants to support you no matter what.

She wants to sit in the stands and she wants to cheer for you.

She wants to show you that you only deserved the best.

She wants to love you for the rest of her life.

She wants to be by your side as long as you‘ll let her.

She wants you.

Christen smiled like a proud parent as Tobin grinned widely. Jess looked cofused around, not understanding why the moms looked at her like that, you looking at her with the biggest heart eyes, "Oh no" she said as she understood those faces "I said that out loud, didn‘t I?"

"Jup"

Christen and Tobin got up, "My job here is done", ready to go.

"You chose a good one, y/n/n."

This time it was Christen who commented like Tobin would. In her mind, Heath agreed yet she would never admit stuff like that in prensence of Jess.

But Jessie was indeed a good one.

—————————

pt. 2

—————————

[trillscienceofficer]

I've been thinking about the USS Voyager docking at DS9 before embarking on its first mission pretty much ever since I watched “Caretaker” for the first time... The in-universe stardate seems to suggest this happened sometimes between “The Search, part 1” and “Meridian” and I'm absolutely convinced Janeway and Sisko met in his office on the station on that occasion. They had plenty of reason to, since Voyager was on a Maquis assignment and Sisko obviously was one of the best-informed Starfleet officer on the matter.

What makes me particularly interested though is that in that meeting they are both... still completely oblivious to what's going to happen to both of them. On DS9, they just realized who's behind the Dominion, they've just got the Defiant, Sisko is still a commander! Winn isn't even Kai yet, the Obsidian Order has not launched their genocidal mission against the Founders, Eddington is still just an annoying security officer. And of course Janeway has no idea of the kind of choices she'll have to make just in the next few hours; this is after all just her first time in command of a starship.

What did they tell each other? What was their impression of each other? Did they ever thought about that meeting again, after Voyager disappeared/got stranded so far away from the Alpha Quadrant?

What would they say to one another, if they met again after Voyager's return? Would it be obvious to them, the kind of sacrifices they've had to make in order to survive and get to the other side, their selves from 2371 so clearly transformed by the consequences of their actions? They've definitely both become experts in the field of the sunk cost fallacy, but would they recognize that in each other?

tl;dr I would like to see Sisko and Janeway meet very, very much.

[myonos]

BLOODBAG

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

IN WHICH you are a princess betrothed to the vampire prince of the most feared kingdom in the world.

lee heeseung x f!reader

genre: fluff, small amount of angst, one sided enemies to lovers

warnings! cursing, slightly suggestive, mentions of blood

wc: 6k (6088)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

This is your destiny.

You cannot change your destiny.

It chose you for a reason.

  These are things you’ve been hearing since the ripe age of 5.

What is your destiny? To become a bloodsucker's personal blood bag.

From the day you were born, you’ve been betrothed to Lee Heeseung. 

The Lee family is a long line of powerful vampires. They strike fear into every kingdom, every man, every woman, every child.

No one dares to disobey the wishes of the Lees.

  So how did you, a mere mortal, become betrothed to him?

Since the birth of the Lee clan, there has been a prophecy. It foresees the entire history of the Lee clan.

According to them, it has never been wrong.

  One fateful day 21 years ago, the Lee prophecy told Mira and Seungheon Lee that their first and only child would be betrothed to the first child of the current reigning king and queen of the Desira clan.

  That child would be you.

And oh, you’ve dreaded the day.

You remember being seven and asking your parents why you had to marry a stinky boy.

“Because it’s your destiny.” They would tell you.

You got sick of hearing that.

  By now, you've accepted it, although the bitterness in your heart still beats.

Today is the day you are moving to Lee Castle.

You should mention you've never even met the Lees.

So moving into their home? The whole arrangement isn't exciting for you. 

  You’re sad to leave your parents and your people. They've reassured you that you'll be fine, but you still fear the Lees will isolate you and never let you leave. 

  You don’t know what Lee Heeseung is like, but you don’t care. You'll marry him for the safety of your kingdom, but you will not show him any kindness.

  As you arrive in Lee’s kingdom, you're amazed.

You expected gloom and doom, weary, sad, fearful people, but it's the opposite.

Children are laughing and playing about. 

Markets galore of anything you can think of, clothing, fabrics, food, trinkets.

  Men are coming out of the woods, carrying stalks of wood on their backs.

As you stare out the window, a child catches your attention. She’s playing in the grass beside a booth; you assume her mother runs.

She looks up, and your eyes meet.

Waving, her smile gleams in the sun.

You wave back, your smile matching hers. 

“Can we stop for a moment?” You ask the coachman. 

As you step out, whispers surround you.

You walk to the woman's booth. “Hello.”

As she looks up, she gasps. 

She scrambles for a moment, and you can't help but giggle.

 “Your Majesty, I knew you were coming, but I didn't expect to see you. Can I be of assistance?”

You look at the array of jewelry decorating her booth.

Your eyes stop on a beautiful necklace. 

An emerald sits in the middle of a circular frame—the emerald glistens in the sunlight. 

You pick it up cautiously. “How much for this?”

The woman's eyes widened, “For you, Your Majesty, it costs nothing.”

You shake your head softly, “Nonsense. Is this enough?”

You hand her several bills out of your pouch, and she gapes.

“I can't accept this, Your Majesty!”

“You can and you will, please?” You beg, clasping your hands together.

  She contemplates for a second before putting the money into her bag.

“Your Majesty, how can I thank you?”

“No need, keep doing what you're doing.”

  You feel a slight tug on your dress, and the little girl from before is at your side.

You bend down to her size, “Hello, what's your name?”

“I'm Ara, Your Majesty!”

What an adorable child, “Ara is a beautiful name. You can call me Y/N.”

 “Thank you, you have a beautiful name, too, Y/N.”

She smiles that blinding smile before presenting a flower in her tiny hands. 

“I picked this for you.”

You take it from her, “Thank you so much, Ara. Now I have two beautiful gifts.” You gesture to the necklace.

She takes the flower and puts it in your hair by your ear. 

“Now you're even more beautiful!”

 “Your majesty,” the coachman calls, “we should be going.”

  You nod, sad that you have to leave.

“I hope to see you again, Ara.”

She nods before hugging you tightly. Everyone around you awes as you hug her back.

Then it's back into the carriage, and you continue your ascent to the castle.

When you reach the entrance, the large doors are agape, and a carpet greets you.

As you step out, loud footsteps come from inside until three people appear.

The king and queen are smiling, unexpected to you.

“Y/N, my dear, so great to meet you at last,” the King says. 

You do a long curtsy, bowing your head, “Your Majesties.”

The queen takes your hand into her own, “What a beautiful girl you are. I hope you'll enjoy being here.”

“You're too kind.”

“This is our son, Heeseung.”

They part to reveal him, and oh. 

You weren't expecting him to be so handsome.

 He offers a sweet smile.

“Y/N,” he says, taking your hand and planting a kiss on it. “It's a pleasure.”

You bow to him, “To you as well.”

His parents waste no time, shouting at the guards surrounding the entrance to bring your things inside.

They give you an extensive tour of their castle, introducing every room. Their foyer is beautiful and decorated with multiple styles of paintings.

  They eventually lead you to your room. 

It’s huge, even bigger than your room at home.

The bed sits in the middle of the far right wall. It’s king-sized with red silk sheets and a comforter.

Heeseung bends down and whispers in your ear, “More than big enough for the 2 of us.”

  Face filled with confusion, you turn to look at him, but all he does is wink at you.

What happened to Mr. Respectful?

  “You’ll meet us for dinner when you’ve unpacked your things, yes?” The queen says, not noticing the scowl on your face.

You nod, watching them leave.

Heeseung does not leave; he closes the door behind his parents, leaving you two alone.

  “I’ve been waiting every day of my life to meet you, and now I have you.” He saunters towards you, close enough until your chests are pressed against each other lightly.

  “First, you don’t have me. I’m not happy about this marriage. I’m only doing it for my kingdom.”

Your arms cross in anger, putting just the smallest space between you and him.

He laughs, “You’re cute. However you view this marriage doesn’t matter. You and I will be one soon enough.”

  Whatever that means. 

  “I’d appreciate it if you left my room now. Don’t you have to prepare for dinner too?” Heeseung puts his hands up in defense, not saying another word before leaving your room.

  So not only are you stuck marrying him, but he’s also a weird dickhead? Great. 

  You sigh in defeat and grab your bags to unpack.

There are no drawers, so there must be a closet.

There are two large mahogany doors on the left side of the room.

You open the first but do not find a closet, instead; you find an enormous bathroom. There’s a large, deep-set tub in the back of the room with three large shower heads attached. To the left of the tub is the toilet and double sinks, with more than enough space for your hair and skin care products.

  You close that door and then move to the other.

It is the closet, and it is vast. It has enough room for your many clothes, so you begin to place and hang them to your desire.

Once you’ve finished, you hear a bell chime within the castle. You look at the clock above your bed and see it’s 8 o’clock. 

  You can’t be late for dinner. You exit your room, bowing to the guards outside your door.

You almost fear you’ve forgotten where the dining room is, but your feet seem to remember, moving and not stopping.

  The large double doors of the dining room greet you, and as you put your hands on the handles, you pray you’re not the last to arrive.

You take a deep breath, fanning your face quickly before opening the doors.

  Dammit.

  The king, queen, and Heeseung are already seated.

You bow, apologizing profusely for your tardiness.

The king waves his hand, “Don’t apologize, dear. A minute will not kill anyone.”

  You sit in your reserved seat, of course, next to Heeseung while his parents sit at the other end of the table.

Heeseung wastes no time in putting his hand on your thigh.

You want to push it off but don’t want to upset his parents.

  Now you’re wondering why exactly you are meeting for dinner? You’re the only human here. Don’t they drink blood to quench their hunger?

“We can still eat regular food, sweetheart. Blood is just our preference.” 

Did you say that out loud, or can the queen read minds?

“Yes, I can read minds,” she says, smiling.

  You try to stop thinking, knowing it’s futile.

“Y/N, now that you’re here, you must tell us all about yourself. It’s only right that we get to know our future daughter-in-law.” The king holds up his drink, which you assume is wine…or blood.

  You clear your throat, “There’s not much to tell. I enjoy art and paintings, and I’d love to admire the ones in your foyer during my free time. I’m a straightforward person. I pride myself on being kind to all and being open-minded.”

As the king and queen take in your words, you can feel Heeseung’s grip on your thigh getting tighter.

It’s almost to where it hurts, so you put your hand on top of his, making him relax.

  Within a few minutes, dinner arrives. It's a beautifully done steak (extra rare for them) with potatoes, asparagus, and a beautiful au jus.

You have to say it was pretty delicious, and you devoured your plate within minutes.

You almost feel embarrassed as the Lees stare at you, but the king smiles. “Nice to see someone who truly enjoys well-prepared food.”

  You laugh with them, blushing as you wipe your mouth with your napkin.

By 9:30, you find yourself getting tired, eyes fluttering every few seconds.

“Heeseung, be a dear and bring Y/N up to bed.” The queen requests.

Heeseung immediately gets out of his chair, deciding to be a gentleman and pulling yours out.

You take his hand and leave the dining room, wishing the king and queen goodnight.

  As you walk the long halls, Heeseung takes the chance to wrap his arm around your waist.

You grab his hand, about to pull him off, but he suddenly twirls you around to face him.

You try to step back, “What are you doing?”

  “You’re too tired to keep walking.” Without another word, he tucks his left hand under your knees and the other around your waist and lifts you into his arms. 

You squeal, “Put me down! I can walk just fine.” 

He shakes his head, “What kind of future husband would I be if I let my lady walk when she’s tired?” 

You go to protest again, but Heeseung shushes you. Giving up, you let him carry you until you’ve arrived at your bedroom door. “May I come in?” He asks.

Your confused stare has him chuckling, “To wish you goodnight.” 

You’re about to ask why he can’t do it right here, but he’s already entering your room. 

You head to your bathroom to wash up, glaring at him as you go. 

“I’m not gonna do anything!”

After you’ve washed up, you head back into your room, expecting Heeseung to be gone, but he’s not. 

You yelp, putting your hands in front of yourself, even though you have a robe on. 

“Relax, I can’t see anything.”

  You go into your closet, closing the door behind you to change. 

Heeseung is now sitting on your bed. As he looks up, he smirks, “Cute pj’s.”

You huff, taking his hand and dragging him off your bed, “Nice having you, goodnight!”

Before you can push him out the door, he puts his hands out, stopping himself. 

“What, no goodnight kiss?”

You laugh mockingly, “In your dreams, goodnight Heeseung.”

  He finally leaves, giving you peace. 

You practically launch yourself into bed, snuggling into the warm sheets. 

So little happened today, yet you feel exhausted as it ends. 

You don’t know what’s in store for you, but you hope Heeseung doesn’t piss you off to death.

As your eyes flutter, you think about your family and the friends you’ve left behind. This is your life now. 

Maybe it’s best to accept it. Perhaps you should try to make the most of it. 

When the Lees gave their extravagant castle tour, they told you about a garden in the back of the castle. If you desire, you may enter the garden. 

You recall the king's words, “This is your home now. There is no place you can’t go.” 

So here you find yourself in the garden. It’s home to a multitude of fresh flowers. 

Orchids, carnations, roses, peonies, lilies, you name it, they’re here. You can’t help but go around smelling every flower, the scent sweet to your nose. 

Soon you find yourself in the garden's center, where a sleek steel bench sits. 

You sit down, admiring the surrounding scenery.

  “I see you’ve found my favorite spot.”

There’s that aggravating voice, the last thing you wanted to hear this morning. 

“Is it?” You ask. “I wouldn’t expect you to be the type to like flowers.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, pretty girl. I’d love to change that.” Heeseung says, sitting next to you on the bench. 

“I don’t desire to know anything about you.” 

You turn your face away from him, but his swift fingers reach for your chin, pulling you to face him. 

“But I desire to know everything about you.”

His hand is icy, to where a chill runs down your spine. 

You refuse to let him influence you. 

“What? Are you obsessed with me or something?”

  Heeseung chuckles, and his fangs, long and sharp, make their presence known. You think about those things biting you. Would it hurt? Would it leave a bruise? You fear you’ll be finding out the answer to that soon enough. 

“You could say that. Or you could say I’m fascinated with you. I have been since the day I knew we were betrothed.”

  You’re confused, “We only met yesterday. How could you be fascinated with someone you didn’t know?”

  “Because I can feel it, the connection we have. I’ve been able to feel it since day one. You may not know this, but vampires can remember every day of our lives, even our birth. As I’ve grown older, the feeling has grown stronger. It feels as if it’s going to burst out of my chest. You and I are meant for each other. The universe decided that for us. Who am I to disobey it?”

  You take Heeseung’s hand and pull it away from your face, “If you think for one second I’m going to believe this universe bullshit, you’re dead wrong!” 

  Heeseung frowns, “Why don’t you understand? The prophecy—”

“Forget the prophecy, Heeseung!” You shout, standing abruptly. “You can believe in that all you want, but that doesn’t mean I have to. I’m not doing this because the prophecy said so. I’m certainly not doing it because I love you. It’s solely for relations.” 

  For the first time, you see a flash of hurt graze Heeseung’s dark eyes. After a long, quiet minute, Heeseung leaves the garden. 

You’re relieved he’s finally gone, yet you can’t help but think you’ve gone too far. 

Insulting their prophecy probably wasn’t a good idea. 

You go inside, hoping to find Heeseung and apologize, but he’s nowhere to be found. 

You sigh in defeat. Hopefully, he’s not too angry. As much as he’s bothersome, you’re scared to think about him being angry. 

  Making your way to Heeseung’s room, you’re curious. You haven’t seen it and don’t know what to expect. You knock hesitantly but receive no answer. Taking a deep breath, you open the door. It squeals as it opens, and the darkness of his room greets you. 

It’s as if there's no one living in it.

You take small steps inside, leaving the door open to allow some light to shine in. 

“Heeseung,” you call. No answer. 

“What are you doing?”

The scream that leaves your mouth could wake the dead. You turn around to Heeseung standing over you. Your hand grabs your chest, trying to calm your racing heart. 

“I came… to apologize for earlier. I shouldn’t have insulted your prophecy. It’s important to you and your family, and I shouldn’t disrespect it. I’m sorry.”

  In the darkness, you can barely make out Heeseung's silhouette, and yet you can feel the smirk slowly rise on his face. “I knew you couldn’t resist me, pretty girl.”

You scoff, “And now you ruined it, goodbye.”

  “Wait!” He grabs your arm, preventing you from leaving, and suddenly, the room is flooded with light. Your eyes squint at the brightness, then widen in shock. “How did you do that?”

“I have telekinesis,” Heeseung shrugs like it’s so casual. Well, it is, for him, at least. 

Heeseung grabs your attention by placing his arm around your waist, the other hand coming up to gently cup your face. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to convince you to give me a chance. Let me show you how good I can be, how good we could be. I’ll beg on my knees if I have to.”

Then, he’s on his knees, holding your hands in his. 

“Please,” he pleads. “Give me a chance.”

  You feel a tug at your heartstrings. The way he’s pleading makes your legs feel weak. 

“Fine, I’ll give you a chance.”

A smile erupts on Heeseung’s face, and he stands before pulling you in for a tight hug. 

His embrace is warm, despite usually being cold. 

You slowly wrap your arms around his waist, prolonging the hug.

Heeseung finally lets you go, “You won’t regret this, I promise.” 

  You don’t hear from Heeseung for the rest of the day. You have no idea what he’s up to, but you hope you haven’t made a mistake.

The next day, you’re awoken by a gentle knocking on your door. 

You tell them to come in, and it’s Heeseung. 

“Good morning, pretty girl. I have something planned for today, so wash up and meet me downstairs by the entrance.”

He exits, leaving you wondering. 

You don’t want to keep him waiting, so you get out of bed and run to the bathroom. 

After washing up, you pick out one of your favorite dresses to wear. 

  You rush downstairs but compose yourself before you reach the entrance. 

Heeseung is there waiting for you. 

He offers you his hand, and you take it. 

“So what are we doing?” You ask.

“You’ll see,” he smirks but doesn’t reveal the plan. 

  Once outside, you see a horse standing with some guards. 

Its coat is a pristine, long mane flowing in the wind. 

“Beautiful,” you whisper, carefully approaching it. 

Reaching a handout, the horse sniffs you before letting out a loud whine. 

“He likes you,” Heeseung says, petting his mane.

“What’s his name?”

“Casper.”

Heeseung suddenly mounts Casper, holding his hand out for you.

Your eyes widen, “Wait, what?”

“Come on!” Heeseung urges you. 

You have to admit, you’ve only mounted a horse once before in your life. 

You take Heeseung’s hand, put your foot in the stirrup, and he pulls you up. 

“Hold on to me.”

You oblige, putting your arms around his waist and resting your head on his back. 

Heeseung smiles as he feels you. He doesn’t know how he’s gotten so lucky to have such a beautiful bride. He has to impress you.

  At Heeseung’s command, Casper trots.

You make your way out of the castle gates and begin your descent. 

The townspeople greet you both as you come through.

Heeseung leads you deep into the woods, far away from any people. 

After about 10 minutes, you finally stop. 

In front of you is a rock wall with vines hanging on it. 

“What are we doing in front of a wall?”

Heeseung chuckles at your cuteness before pulling back the vines, revealing an opening in the wall.

You walk through it and are amazed.

Inside is a small field surrounded by beautiful trees and flowers.

There’s a creek with crystal clear water running through it and a blanket in the middle.

  “Heeseung, it's beautiful,” you gasp.

He leads you to the blanket, and you both sit down.

“I figured if we’re going to get to know each other better, it should be somewhere special.”

“This place is special,” you say, looking above you. The sky is visible, and the clouds are big and beautiful. “Tell me about you, not just what you said at dinner last night. I want to know everything about you. Your childhood, what you like, what you dislike, everything.” Heeseung doesn't take his eyes off you.

If you're genuinely going to give him a chance, you feel he deserves the truth. Not lies or uncertainty. 

So you spill your guts.

  Heeseung pays close attention, eyes never leaving yours. He gives the occasional hum or nod, but other than that is silent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

  You turn to face Heeseung, “So, it’s your turn. Tell me all about you.”

“Well, I love music. It's something I've enjoyed since I was young. I play the guitar and piano, and if I'm not in my room, I'm usually in our music room.”

  “You’ll have to play for me sometime,” you say, lying on the blanket.

Heeseung follows and lies down beside you.

As you stare at the sky above you, you think, maybe this arrangement isn't so bad.

The next day Heeseung took you on a picnic. Sure, it was in the garden, but it was still romantic.

What you didn’t know before is how funny he is.

He had you laughing so hard, your stomach hurt.

You told him if he wasn’t a prince, he could make a living as a comedian.

He showed you his musical skills.

He’s like a prodigy. Not only is he a master at guitar and piano, but he can also sing.

  When he sang for you, your ears nearly melted.

His voice is like honey, caressing you from the inside out.

Your praises made his cheeks flush, a shy smile gracing his lips.

Later that same day, he took you to a festival in the kingdom.

Everyone was amazed by how good you two looked together.

They cheered for you, their future princess.

  Today, you and Heeseung find yourselves in your room. You're both lying on your bed, and you're reading to him.

It’s a fantasy book about a maiden who falls in love with someone forbidden from being with her.

“I'd hate to be forbidden from you. It’s only been a few days, but I can’t live without you.”

Heeseung’s words make your heart flutter.

“I've gotten used to you too. You're not what I expected. Your kingdom isn't what I expected, but I’m glad I was wrong.” 

  Heeseung doesn’t say anything else, so you continue reading. By the end of the book, the maiden and her lover can be together, and their people rejoice in harmony.

“That was a nice ending,” Heeseung slurs beside you. Looking at him, his eyes are closed, and he’s breathing slowly.

He must have been tired, you think to yourself.

Putting the book time, you figure you could take a nap yourself.

You lay beside him and close your eyes.

  When you awaken, Heeseung is gone, but there’s a sticky note on your forehead.

I had a nice nap. Thanks for keeping me warm - Heeseung.

You chuckle as he runs through your mind.

You went from hating him to taking naps with him within two days.

Maybe you’re weak, but this has been the best couple of days of your life.

You never realized how lonely you were until you started spending all this time with Heeseung.

  You admit you didn’t have many friends growing up. Kids stayed away from you because of your status, or they were only your “friend” to get something from you.

You never had a real friend or more than that. 

Now you have a real friend, or rather fiancé, who seems to be in love with you, although you haven’t done anything to deserve it.

  You regret how you initially treated Heeseung, but you’re looking forward to your future together; however that may look.

  The next day, you wake up to a wonderful smell.

Opening your eyes, in front of you is a whole breakfast platter: pancakes, bacon, eggs, and orange juice.

Heeseung sits at the edge of your bed, watching your reaction.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning,” you say as you start digging in.

“I love watching you eat,” Heeseung says, coming to sit next to you.

You offer him some pancake on your fork, and he accepts it eagerly.

“I have to compliment your chef, seriously.”

  After your astounding breakfast, you and Heeseung decide to walk in the field behind the castle.

Heeseung takes the opportunity to slip his hand into yours. You don't hesitate to intertwine your fingers.

  Later, during dinner, the queen asks you how you and Heeseung are progressing. 

“We’re getting along great. Heeseung is a pleasure.”

This time when Heeseung places his hand on your thigh, you put yours on top to hold his hand.

  Throughout the next couple of days, you and Heessung spend every minute together.

You find yourself falling harder for him every day.

Quickly your wedding day approaches, and your nerves are starting to get to you.

  Heeseung has never mentioned biting you. But one day, in the library, you read a book about vampires and their betrothed. It was tradition for a vampire to bite their betrothed on their wedding day as a sign of bonding the souls together.

You didn't know if that tradition still held, but you’ll find out eventually.

You wonder what a bite feels like. Will it hurt? Are you going to feel weakness from it? The thought almost excites you. Heeseung biting you would symbolize you as his. 

  You want to ask him, but you fear it will be awkward.

Still, you feel like you have to know. To at least prepare yourself beforehand.

You and Heeseung are in the music room, and he's singing to you.

Suddenly, he stops.

“What's wrong?” He asks.

“Are you going to bite me at any point? I read about tradition in the library and wanted to know if it still applies.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened for a second before returning to normal.

He coughed awkwardly before answering, “Yes, it's tradition. But we don't have to if you're not comfortable.”

  “Can you bite me now?”

Heeseung freezes in his seat. You can hear how heavily he starts breathing.

He clears his throat, “Why?”

“Because,” you say, coming to sit next to him. “I wanna know what it feels like. And I trust you. But if you can't, it’s okay.”

“I can,” he stutters. “I just don't want to hurt you.”

“I trust you, Heeseung. I know you won't hurt me.”

  Heeseuny nods, taking your hand into his. He leads you to his room, where you're entirely alone.

“Are you sure about this? It'll probably sting, but it shouldn't hurt that much.” 

You nod, moving your hair away from your neck.

Heeseung moves his head down right in front of your neck.

You hear him breathing in and out.

“You smell good. Always have.”

  He takes your hands in his. “I'm gonna do it.”

Then he bites down. 

There's a searing pain that only lasts for a second before a calming feeling replaces it.

You can hear your blood flowing from your neck into Heeseung’s mouth. 

Then it starts to feel good. 

You feel as if you're in a trance.

The room starts to spin, and you feel Heeseung stop.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, coming back to your senses. “It felt nice.”

“Good.”

  You lead Heeseung to his bed, sitting on the edge.

“Thank you, now I know what to expect.”

“It'll be different on our wedding day. You have probably already read about it. We must perform a ritual. If you're okay with that.”

“I know,” you answer.

  “Heeseung, it feels like so much has changed in my life so quickly. But you're at the base of that, and I feel like everything is right. Like everything is going the way it should. It changed quickly from how it was my first day here, but I don't regret anything.” 

  You put your arm around his neck, playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

You can feel his shiver.

“Is this you admitting you have feelings for me?”

The smug look on his face makes you want to slap it off him.

Maybe your past mean side is still alive a little bit. 

“And if it was?”

Before he knows it, you're pulling Heeseung towards you and planting a fat kiss on his cheek. 

His face turns bright red, hand brushing where your lips just were.

  “You can't do that,” he whines. “I'm sensitive.”

“Well, I did.”

Heeseung lunges forward abruptly, planting his lips on yours. 

When he pulls back, it's your turn to blush.

“Do it again, properly this time.” You say.

  Heeseung leans forward, as do you.

When your lips meet, it tingles.

The kiss is soft and passionate. 

It feels as if you’re on cloud nine.

You can smell Heeseung’s cologne as he pulls you closer.

You place your other arm around his neck, smiling into the kiss.

As you both pull away, breathing heavily, you place one last peck on his lips.

“That was amazing.” He says, pushing a strand of your hair back.

You hum in agreement.

“It’s late. We should both go to sleep.” 

  Heeseung agrees, and you wish each other good night.

Back in your room, you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You grab the closest pillow and shove it in your face, squealing and kicking your feet.

  The next few days leading up to the wedding are spent with last-minute preparations.

The day of, your heart feels like it will beat out of your chest. 

A custom, handmade dress crafted from the finest fabrics cascades down your body.

Your mother is in the room with you, your father outside, ready to walk you down the aisle. 

Once you step out, everyone's eyes turn to you.

You see your family members on one side and Heeseung’s family and friends on the other.

You see his friends from other kingdoms, six nice boys you consider your friends now.

They're all smiling at you, and you smile back brightly.

  You finally look at Heeseung, and his eyes are trained on you. They don't leave yours for a second.

You smile shyly, and his serious face dissipates. 

You make it down the aisle, and your face goes to sit down.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Lee Heeseung and Y/L/N Y/N.

These two have been betrothed to one another since birth, and today we finally see them become one.

If anyone objects to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Silence.

“Good. Now we will hear the vows prepared by both parties. Heeseung, you shall go first.”

  Heeseung clears his throat, “Y/N, from a young age, I felt our connection. Not just because of the prophecy but because of our hearts. I am honored to be your husband. To protect you, to serve you, to give my life to make you happy. I will never hurt you, betray you or disrespect you. I promise to love you and give you the life you deserve.”

  You can feel tears prick your eyes as he finishes.

“Now, Y/N, it's your turn.”

“Heeseung, when I first came here, I resented you. I thought my life was being taken from me, but I was wrong. In the past two weeks, you have shown me nothing but love, caring, and what a wonderful life I will have here with you. I promise to give you all my love, respect, and care. I will never let you feel neglected or unimportant. You will always be my priority.”

  “Now, for the bonding ritual.” The officiant holds a large blade, one that was handcrafted thousands of years ago by the first king.

He then holds up the ancient prophecy, where the Lee symbol appears prominent.

The mingling of blood is a sacred part of the Lee clan and tradition.

Heeseung puts his hands around your neck, and you anticipate the bite.

It feels just as it did the first time, a sting, then bliss.

When Heeseung retreats, you palm the blood dripping down your neck.

Heeseung slices his palm with the blade, and you bring your hands together to mix the blood. 

Then, on the prophecy, you both mark it with your handprints, sealing your fate and bonding your souls together.

Heeseung takes a towel to clean your neck while you wrap his hand.

“You souls are now bonded and forever one. To the new generation of Lee!” The officiant concludes.

Standing up, everyone cheers. 

Heeseung pulls your face towards his, kissing you slowly. 

The cheers become louder as you part.

  Everyone comes up to congratulate you.

You hug your parents tightly while Heeseung hugs his.

Your friends come up, hugging you individually, and then run to Heeseung and give him multiple pats on the back. 

The ceremony afterward is full of love and laughter. Your favorite music plays as you and Heeseung cut the cake.

It's delicious red velvet with cream cheese frosting.

You can't help but smother Heeseung’s cheek in frosting as he looks at you offended.

You scream as he does it back to both your cheeks.

Once cleaned up, you head outside to the palace balcony, where the kingdom is gathered.

  They cheer as you both walk out, chanting your names.

You give them all your biggest smile and wave eagerly.

You hear someone calling you, and as you look down, you spot Ara. 

You wave at her diligently before making your way down.

She runs to you as the kingdom coos.

You pick her up and swing her around, settling her in your arms.

“You look so beautiful, Y/N,” she says.

“Thank you, Ara.”

She looks to Heeseung. “Take good care of her, please.”

You both laugh, “I will, Ara.” Heeseung replies.

  You're being handed gifts left and right by the people who you thank diligently.

The rest of your evening is spent with your friends, family, and the kingdom.

When everyone has left, it's just you and Heeseung.

“You're my wife…pinch me.”

So you do, pinching his butt.

He yelps before sighing, “I didn't mean it literally.”

Before you can react, he's attacking you with tickles, pokes, and prodding. 

You try not to scream as it's late but can't help the squeals that leave your mouth. 

  You both arrive at your door and as Heeseung goes to kiss you goodnight, you stop him.

“Why don't you get some pajamas and spend the night with me?”

You've never seen Heeseung move so quickly.

He's back within record time, and you spend the rest of the night together.

  Waking up next to Heeseung is blissful. 

You watch his handsome face as he sleeps. This man is your husband. 

You stroke his face gently, stirring him awake.

“Good morning,” his raspy voice says. 

“Morning, husband.”

He smiles, “Say it again.”

“Good morning, husband.”

  He wraps his arms around you, “I'll never get tired of hearing that.”

“Good, 'cause I’ll never stop saying it.”

“You're mine, and I’m yours. I couldn't ask for anything more.” Heeseung pecks your lips once, twice, thrice.

You take his hand in yours, “Now we get to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“I can't wait. Let the fun begin.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

and that’s it! this is the longest thing i’ve ever written (so far) so here’s to more in the future!

taglist: @chiiiiiiiiis @seungjiseyo @yohanabanana @yenqa @woongkification @lovekyr @autumn-lv @urszn

perm taglist: @escapetheash @vatterie

[homunculus-argument]

Have you ever had one of those things happen that just straight-up sound like something that'd only go down in a badly written sitcom?

This one time a few years ago, I had nothing to do in the middle of the day so I went out to wander around the city, and encountered one of those christian missionaries of some sort - not mormons, some local finnish-speaking one, probably Jehova's witnesses, I can't recall - who addressed me first. Having only gone out to kill time I figured I'd stop to see what he had to say, this might get interesting.

He started talking about sin, and I told him that I don't think that's real, humans aren't inherently bad creatures that need to be goaded into not doing evil by an outside force. Apparently taken back by my confidence about this, he asked me why I think so. And while I was absolutely not this eloquent about it while talking as I am typing it out now, I explained that if doing good didn't come naturally to people, it wouldn't feel good to do it. There's been studies about that - it makes people feel happy to help others, even when they gain nothing from it, or even at a cost to themselves sometimes.

Doing good things feels good for the same reason as eating, sleeping and having sex feel good - because we're supposed to do it. It doesn't matter to me why that is - either there's a god who made people with inherent goodness to them, or natural selection of the cold uncaring universe saw this behaviour as beneficial for survival. People want to be good to one-another just like migratory birds want to fly south for the winter.

He gave me his best annoyed "alright, fair enough"-shrug and was clearly trying to think of how to disagree with that when we were interrupted. I have no idea how a person that large and entirely indifferent to concepts like subtlety, stealth or an indoor voice even can sneak up on people, but we were both startled when someone I had briefly met appeared out of apparent nowhere, loudly going

HEY AREN'T YOU THAT TRANNY FROM THE PARK

addressing me. I used to go drinking at the park quite often back then, and while I did meet a lot of people that way and my memory is the first thing to disappear when I'm drunk, someone that loud, tall and broad-shouldered, covered in tattoos, with long hair, braided beard and electric blue eyeshadow isn't someone you easily forget. I was, indeed, the tranny from the park and I had been the person who had explained the concept of "nonbinary" to them.

My acquaintance here was somewhere between 30 and 50 and not exactly up to whatever the kids are doing these days, and their reaction to this information was roughly "oh huh so there's a name for the thing I'm doing". As they only spoke finnish, I can't say that I would have been the one to explain the concept of gender neutral pronouns to them, but they had been fascinated to discover that other languages have gendered pronouns in the first place.

Refreshing my memory of the encounter - and apparently unintentionally also recounting it to the missionary who was still silently standing with us - they proceeded to explain that they've never really felt like a man or a woman. And sometimes not really even like a human, but more like an alien who had just been dropped off here from a spaceship - but not like in a psychotic delusions sort of way, but just the vibes, you know? They then proceeded to tell us about some other fascinating epiphanies that they had had while on psychedelics.

As they went on, the christian missionary next to us was drifting backwards so slowly that I don't think I noticed him actually take an individual backwards step, just silently sliding gradually further away from this situation, with apparent mild concern. And while my happenstance acquaintance - whose name I either never heard or couldn't remember hearing - was talking, I noticed I had gotten a text message from a friend, who asked if I'm around and whether I want to come hang out.

So as the nonbinary giant self-appointed alien was finished with their story and took their leave - telling me that they'll probably see me around, and as I was around a lot, I reassured them that they would - I turned to the missionary and told him that while I'd love to carry on with what we were talking about, I actually have people to see now, and bid him good luck with whatever he was trying to do.

It's been like five years between that day and today, and during that time I moved to a different city and back here. I don't think I've seen the nonbinary giant again even once during this time, and wherever they are, I hope they're doing ok and no longer doing any weird drugs. Or if they are, that at least they're having fun.

[anneapocalypse]

I just can't help feeling that Solas taking Lavellan's vallaslin and then leaving them is so cruel. I know he doesn't mean to be cruel. I know he doesn't even mean to do it like that; he wants to share the truth about himself, and he just can't, and it's that realization that pushes him to end the relationship, because of how close he comes to telling everything to this person he loves. I know that he loves Lavellan and wants to share just one piece of the truth, even if he can't share all of it.

He sees right away how much the revelation about the origins of the blood writing has hurt Lavellan. And if Lavellan pushes back on the idea of removing them, he drops it immediately. He never forces the issue.

But it's still such a sudden decision for Lavellan to make, after such a painful revelation. And what if they do end up regretting it? What's going to happen if they return to their clan, or try to make contact with another if Clan Lavellan has been lost? How will they begin to explain this to their fellow Dalish elves (keeping in mind that they don't yet know who Solas is)?

"I met a lone elven apostate, and it turns out he's a Dreamer, and he told me that one of our most sacred traditions is actually a mark of slavery. And I believed him. And I let him remove my vallaslin."

I think the decision might be easier for Lavellan whose clan is still alive and well, if they know they still have a home and a family to return to. For a Lavellan who has lost everything, their home, their family and friends, who has probably had to fight to maintain their identity and their beliefs in the Inquisition even if they've also made friends and found community--the choice is heartwrenching.

In taking the vallaslin, Solas takes from Lavellan the most obvious sign of Dalish identity, community, culture, and tradition. And then he breaks up with them. Lavellan can't even say "I've lost everything but at least I have you."

Every time I see gifs or videos of that scene, of Solas gently saying, "Ar lasa mala revas," literally I give you your freedom, it just breaks my heart, because I know he means it. I know he wants to give them that.

But what kind of freedom is it? And at what cost?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I told my partner to stop bringing up the fact that they're undiagnosed

Submitted: 19/04/2024

(💑♾️)

I've (18FtM) been with my partner Brit (17F) for 3 years now, we met in high school and have since graduated. In that time, I've worked with multiple professional to seek therapy and diagnosis for my multiple conditions, two of them being ADHD (combination) and Autism. Brit along with my childhood best friend were actually the first people to suggest I could be Autistic and should look into evaluation for both, not just ADHD, which I had been suspecting for a while. Obviously I was excited about my diagnosis because I am finally recognised and am able to get accommodations, talk about it outside my immediate circle of friends and accept myself without doubt that I have this.

Immediately after my diagnosis, I started to talk to Brit about how amazing it feels. And how excited I am to be able to have an explanation for a lot of my issues both growing up and currently, accommodations and other things too. Brit suspects they are likely autistic too and used to think they had ADHD before being evaluated, and it returned with a negative result. I still think they feel annoyed about, since they constantly bring up the fact that they don't think the evaluation was accurate because they lied during it to make their symptoms seem less obvious out of fear of the diagnosis at the time. They've tried to ask their mom to be evaluated for Autism, but their mum refuses to, as she has multiple reasons to not believe that they do and refuses to think anything could be wrong with her child. Brit doesn't have enough money on their own to get an evaluation (Mine cost a couple of thousands, and that was on the cheaper end). I have been talking to Brit about my diagnosis for a few days and how happy I am and every time I talk about it, they constantly bring up how lucky I am and that I don't need to brag and saying “I wonder how that feels”. At first, I tried to understand what they are going through because I get what it's like to suspect you have something but not have the resources or the doctors that can properly evaluate you, but after the 5 or 6th time it feels very degrading, invalidating and demeaning. I don't understand why they can't just be happy for me as their partner and not let it reflect on them. I've been thinking about just telling them to shut up the next time they bring it up as it's really getting on my nerves, I feel that I have the right to be happy about the diagnosis and not have to worry about upsetting my partner for whatever personal battles they have going on with them. Furthermore, I do listen to them and comfort them when they're upset about their own experience, but it feels like they're making my own experience into their own. I've been thinking of texting them that being undiagnosed doesn't mean they can invalidate my experience and that it isn't all about them, that they can just be happy for me and that it feels like shit to be happy about something that someone else is so negative about even though it has nothing to do with me. So, WIBTA if I told my partner to be quiet about not being diagnosed

[faeryarchives]

savanaclaw with a furina - like female reader!

the "regina of all waters, kindreds, peoples and laws" is deeply loved by all. under her flamboyant and imprudent facade, lies a girl holding an unbearable weight and guilt on her shoulders to save her people. note: as requested and i love furina sm hihi i will also write for other dorms warning: major spoilers for genshin archon quest other fics: heartslabyul with a furina-like reader & i'm not jealous !! & to my beloved & more than words

-‘๑’- leona kingscholar

"huh? what is the esteemed dorm leader of savanaclaw doing in front of my house?" "... why do you look like you didn't sleep for days? nevermind, take back your pets - they've been following me the whole day and poking me with water." "oh my archons, they like you!"

leona knew different kinds of people, faes and beastmen but never a god! not that you broadcasted it to the world - of course he heard it while grim was chatting away from the garden

so this lion observed your moves and to be honest, you were just like an ordinary person

"what are you doing hiding behind me?" "ahem! you know, i don't really know the forest that much so i would appreciate if i would put myself behind yo- ahhh! what is that?!" "it's just a branch, herbivore. i never knew you are scared of branches."

he actually gained another chess player buddy - he discovered it at the cost of being drenched in water from your water familiars

never he would imagine how on earth did you not go crazy standing in for your archon and acting for so so long? and despite belittling you and your friend group, he couldn't believe his ears when you stood up for him against the other dorms

"what leona did was wrong but how would you feel if all the trainings and efforts were all in naught and overlooked by the people you considered as family? imagine if your fate has already been sealed before you were even born?"

oh, he didn't expect you of all people to do that honestly + not so bad at all so expect a lot of sweets everyday curtesy of this lion

don't tell anyone but with you acting just as yourself and discovering your passions with him as a witness - leona feels proud like a lion watching his cub succeed

extra: you and cheka really go along well to the point that leona thinks cheka might replace him with you someday

-‘๑’- ruggie bucchi

ruggie trusts his skills in sneaking around and swiping things if needed and he will bet that no one could ever discover him immediately

"after pulling a prank on grim and my salon members, you must think that i am much of a gullible fool?"

now you both did really met at a rough start - the hyena thought you would be more snobbish and not to mingle with people below his level especially after hearing you being a god

but seeing you shielding him during leona's overblot and regularly visiting him during his recovery at the clinic made him questioned his thoughts about you

"why are you always visiting me? i thought you hated me?" "...? where did you get that nonsense? if i do hate you, i would go out of my way to buy these doughnuts for you."

well look at you two now! close like two peas in a pod - you really enjoyed spending time with ruggie because you were seeing the world in a different perspective

having hard time picking your new macaroni menu for the day? no worries, ruggie will make sure you will be able to cook other meals than this. not good with bargaining with sam? hold his groceries, he have this in the bag.

"more interesting trinkets for me~!" "oh you collect trinkets? why didn't you say so?"

omg new trinket collector buddy 🥺 whenever you give him something such as a bracelet or even a hairclip he will wear it like a badge of honor

it's alright to help other students but he is worried that being to kind in nrc might backfire on you

"you shouldn't be too trusting here. i know you just want to help but like your friends said - you should also help yourself at times."

while he might not look like it but ruggie can sense your mood change accurately especially when it involves the topic of your past

this one whole year on nrc might not be comparable to your 500 years of living but ruggie will make sure that it will be the best one

-‘๑’- jack howl

other than the adeuce and grim team - jack is the person you actually vibe with!

maybe its because his sense of justice and responsibility reminds you of a dear friend back home and it actually comforts you to see it + makes you feel less homesick

this man is very used to his little siblings so expect him to come off as a brotherly vibes + probably makes you an exemption to touching his ears and letting your salon members put some design in his hair

"... do you think these three would be great teammates during magift competitions?"

"hmmm, i must say they do make a great team. what if we bring it up to leona, i think these three will enjoy it very much."

well the dorm leader liked the idea but seeing how they acted during the practice - it's safe to say it is very risky because they only listen to you, jack and leona

ANYWAYS jack sometimes come to the ramshackle dorm just to wake you up knowing you probably stayed up late reading your novels

he tried inviting you to his morning run only to see you the next day already tired and carrying you on his back after one run

"you can't blame me okay! i was born to drama and directing not in running!"

speaking of carrying you on his back he sometimes do it just because he wants to especially when jack knows too well how much you overwork yourself

while he can read you very well, you can also read this guy by the book through his ears and tail movement

"... jack what are you doing here so late?" "…what? it’s not like i was waiting for you or anything." "i never said that though?" "hmp." while he look away, his tail would impatiently wag and hit the wall behind him making you laugh "uhuh, whatever you say. let's go back to our dorms now big guy."

it turns out that while spending the whole afternoon up to evening, jack wanted to accompany you back to the dorm safely - worried that someone is bullying you because you were down for days.

he is not that expressive with words - but just know that jack will always be your friend despite your upbringings or not being open to tell your past, he understands it pretty well

[earthnashes]

The completed version of that sketch I teased a while ago! Angela and Demona have a much needed talk. uwu

So, I know I've been harkin' and hollerin' about starting a Gargoyles AU, and after this lil thing... WELL. I can't help myself man, plz ;w;

But even though I've yet to fully sit down to rewatch the show for concrete foundations, I'm gettin' bombarded with ideas for this badboy. I'll talk at length about my idea once I have something a little more solid, but for now the context is the AU explores Demona's journey to redemption, and her attempts to grow amidst the chaos of the general public now learning gargoyles exist (and the consequences that comes with it).

Below the "keep reading" is a short story I wrote on how Demona and Angela's first uninterrupted reunion could go. Angela is determined to try and convince her mother to give humanity--give everyone, really-- one more chance. Even with all the craziness and the very fragile relations between the supernatural and humans, Angela sees it as their best and only bet to actually build a long-lasting rapport. And a chance to have her mother in her life with minimal conflict.

--

"--Don't you understand? The humans took everything from me, and they have only grown worse. One so-called 'good' human can't undo that. They are never good."

"But they can be if you just let them!" Angela growls, flailing her talons out to her sides in a wide gesture around the city. "Mother, haven't you ever thought that maybe not all humans are bad? That they and gargoyle are more alike than you believe? You've been around for years. You can't honestly tell me you haven't met a gargoyle you couldn't trust in your lifetime."

"I trust no one," Demona sneers, turning her back on her daughter and hunching in on herself, arms crossed close to her chest. "It's what kept me alive this long."

"But at what cost? Mother... you are clanless." Demona doesn't turn around at the mournful tone, and Angela pushes on. "Y-you have no one. But you don't have to be--"

"Angela--" Demona's voice is loud, unwavering, but her tone is so, so tired. It's almost wrung out of her in a sigh that only hints at centuries of gliding solo.

"That is enough."

For several moments, there is heavy silence. Demona doesn't turn around, but the scent of salt in the air is tell enough. She heaves another sigh and begins to step toward the edge of the rooftop they've chosen for this meeting, fully intent on putting an end to such a miserable conversation.

"...Everyone believes you are nothing more than a monster."  Demona keeps going, crouches down and begins to unfurl her wings.

"But I don't believe that."

That stops her. She freezes as if the sun has touched her skin, still as the stone sleep she no longer experiences. She still doesn't turn, but her head tilts to the side. Listening.

"I saw how desperately you want clan when you were with Thailog," Angela whispers hoarsely. "I saw how you looked at me, w-when you realized I was your daughter. You... you turned on Thailog to save me. Save us. But now I--" She whipes furiously at her eyes in frustration. "--you speak as if you want nothing to do with me--"

"You know that isn't true," Demona says, finally, finally whirling to face her daughter. Instinct drives her to open her arms, to reach out, but years of solitude stops her in her tracks. Her hesitation goes mostly unnoticed.

"Then prove it!" Angela barks. She lashes her tail and unfurls her wings. "I want you in my life! I want you to be clan. But I can't do that if you aren't willing to at least try." Angela closes the distance between them, grasping her mother's talons and --almost instantly-- feels like a child again. She gives her a gentle squeeze, and relief nearly floods her when she feels a small, hesitant one back.

"I can't ask for you to forget... or forgive. I won't. But I am asking you to... t-to at least try, and give me a chance? To give humans a chance, one more time."

Angela's eyes bore into her mother as she pleads: "Give me this one chance to prove you wrong."

-----------

Hope ya'll enjoyed! Now that I reread the short there's a lot I'd like to revise and add, but for now this will work. :)

But ye! More to come soon! ;w;

[just-j-really]

Unsoulmates, part three!

[Part One] [Part Two]

It becomes a tradition, after that. Morpheus and Hob will meet, at a cafe or a pub or completely by chance (their friend groups, it turns out, are bizarrely interconnected), and Morpheus will ask Hob if he's found his soulmate yet, and Hob will say no.

Their first few meetings, Hob makes a genuine effort to try and explain. To talk about the people he never would have met, the love he'd have missed out on, (the life he'd have missed out on), had he just sat around waiting for his soulmate to find him. About how freeing it is to get to know someone outside of those horrible soulmate-matching dates where you shake twenty people's hands in a row and move on when nothing happens.

Morpheus seems entirely baffled by it. Not just Hob's approach, but the rest, too, soulmate-matching organizations and the goddamn nightmare that is dating apps and that brief moment of panic when the other person tries to grab your arm on the first date. Hob is almost as curious about Morpheus' experience of soulmates as Morpheus is about his, but Morpheus shies away from even the blandest questions about his relationship status, so Hob is left to wonder- if Morpheus met his soulmate young, like Will did, so he's never lived with the pressure to find the One. If he believes that Destiny will bring his soulmate to him when it's time, and it's not his place to go looking. If he's cautious, gets to know a person on their own terms before touching them and finding out if they're a Match.

Hob would think that last one were the answer- Morpheus holds himself apart from other people, avoiding physical contact at all costs- were it not for the deliberate brush of Morpheus' fingers against his palm the night they'd met. At first he's terribly aware of where that mark would be, but it's easy enough to let the crush he'd been nursing fade to the background. Morpheus' interest in him is so clearly just academic curiosity, it'd be silly to dwell on it.

And even though the novelty of being listened to, if not fully understood, eventually wears off, Morpheus' curiosity is still heartwarming, and Hob, as a person, is not given to running out of things to talk about. And Morpheus proves shockingly eager to listen to him ramble about playing Hades and argue with him about what qualifies a good adaptation of a book.

It's nice. Settling. To be around him, in a way Hob doesn't know he's ever felt with anyone else.

Their fifth meeting, Hob spends the entire time gushing about Audrey, Audrey whose sister had introduced her to Hob because neither of them are terribly anxious to find their soulmate, Audrey who throws herself into helping Hob find the earbuds he lost at her house with the same fervor she applies to med school exams, Audrey whose laugh might be the most beautiful sound he's ever heard...

The look of- disgust? despair? anger? On Morpheus' face when Hob finishes that little tangent would almost be funny if it weren't so insulting.

Their meetings peter off after that. Not intentionally. But Hob will admit that his every waking thought becomes- slightly consumed, by Audrey, from the moment she looks at him sideways to make a terrible pun about roses. And even after Hob's found room in his head for other things, Morpheus is impossibly busy with some project he's working on with Will.

And suddenly it's been almost four months and they've barely spoken and Hob's rushing into a fancy bakery three minutes before they close, when he notices a familiar black coat at the back of the line. He takes a moment to straighten his jacket- this place is fancy fancy, polished in a way that makes him feel too poor to afford the oxygen inside the building- before he sneaks into line behind Morpheus.

Morpheus glances back at him and freezes, as though he'd planned to commit Bakery Robbery and Hob is now a witness.

"Hey," Hob says, grinning a bit too widely, in the vague hope that he can make them both forget the past months of awkwardness if he's just cheerful enough. "How's the playwriting going?"

Morpheus stares at him for a short eternity, then says, "Frustrating." It's the end of the sentence, but not the conversation. Hob knows he remembers that distinction.

He waits a moment, in case there's more that Morpheus wants to say. The line shuffles slowly forward- Hob really shouldn't have come here right after work, there are six people in line in front of Morpheus and only one incredibly stressed employee behind the counter.

"How is. Audrey?" Morpheus asks, uncertainly, just when Hob is beginning to think he should say something else.

Hob's fairly certain the smile on his face is answer enough to that question. "She's great. It's been. Great," he says, conscious of the fact that no matter how much he wants to wax poetic, Morpheus probably doesn't want to hear it. "She's actually- I'm going to meet her parents, this weekend," he adds, and once he's said the words aloud, it's hard not to bounce in place with sheer giddiness- he's going to meet her family! As her boyfriend! "That's why I'm here, actually. I wanted to bring something nice but the last time I tried to bake I set my kitchen on fire, so..." He shrugs, and nods at the counter.

"You really are in love with her," Morpheus says. That look is back on his face, that intense, almost visceral shade of pity. If anything it's stronger than the last time Hob saw it.

Hob, frankly, would prefer disgust. Or confusion, or scorn. I know what I'm getting myself into, he wants to say. I thought you understood that part, at least.

"Of course I am," he says instead, and the words only sound a little hollow. "Soulmates are stupid."

Another eternity passes. Morpheus makes a tiny move toward Hob, and for a brief, foolish moment Hob thinks he's going to kiss him on the forehead, as though he were a brother-in-arms dying on the battlefield.

"Then. Enjoy your dinner," Morpheus says, and turns back around.

And that's the end of the conversation.

The line keeps shuffling forward. Morpheus stares into the middle distance like a statue of some folkloric king. The woman in front of him shoots Hob several pointedly disgusted looks, and Hob- broods. Turns the question over and over again in his mind- Why is it so hard to understand that she doesn't need to be my soulmate? She's already perfect. I love her.

He doesn't ask. He doesn't get an answer.

And three weeks later, Audrey bumps into her soulmate at a concert, and he realizes she hadn't understood, either.

[thefirstknife]

New article with more details (from Jason Schreier who first broke the story). If you can't see it, I'll copy the whole text under read more.

About 100 employees were laid off in total (8%) and one of the main reasons listed is "underperformance," "sharp drop in popularity" and "poor reception of Lightfall."

So you know when for the last year and a half content creators have been shitting and pissing on the game as a full-time job and the amount of negativity and ragebait content became the only thing to make content about for them? Well they certainly won't take the blame, but I will let it be known. These people either don't understand the influence they have or they do and they're doing it on purpose, and I don't know which of these two options is worse, but I am 100% confident that their campaign of rage and hate contributed to this.

You don't base your entire community around constantly hating everything about the only game you play (despite clearly not enjoying it anymore) and somehow avoid galvanising thousands and thousands of people into perceiving the game negatively. Imagine being employees who have barely worked there for 2 years and the only community reception they've seen is 24/7 hate train for their work and then they get fired because of "poor reception" and "drop in popularity." How can they not take that personally? I am absolutely devastated for these people who delievered a banger product and who were met with an unrelenting barrage of toxic gamer children which ended up having more sway over their boss than them.

Which brings me to the next bit and that's FUCK THE CEO. He is now my mortal enemy #1. I am projecting psychic blasts directly into his brain. What an absolute spineless coward who is more willing to bow down to fucking gamers than to protect his own employees. This is absolutely rage inducing because this has happened before. From the article from 2021 about the toxic culture at Bungie:

Reading this shit from the new article absolutely fucking sent me into blind rage because I immediately remembered this. Another instance of employees suffering because of comments on reddit. And because of toxic players. And proof that leadership is not protecting employees and is instead siding with players.

Match made in heaven. Asshole gamer content creators and asshole CEOs, all of whom sit at home on piles of money made from someone else's labour. I hope they all explode. None of the people that worked on this game deserve this.

Another article with an infuriating comment from the CEO:

In an internal town hall meeting addressing a Monday round of layoffs that impacted multiple departments, Bungie CEO Pete Parsons allegedly told remaining employees that the company had kept “the right people” to continue work on Destiny 2.

"Kept the right people." Really. Veteran composers weren't the right people? Die!

Bloomberg article in full:

Bungie’s decision to cut an estimated 100 jobs from its staff of about 1,200 followed dire management warnings earlier this month of a sharp drop in the popularity of its flagship video game Destiny 2. Just two weeks ago, executives at the Sony-owned game developer told employees that revenue was running 45% below projections for the year, according to people who attended the meeting. Chief Executive Officer Pete Parsons pinned the big miss on weak player retention for Destiny 2, which has faced a poor reception since the release of its latest expansion, Lightfall. The next expansion, The Final Shape, was getting good — not great feedback — and management told those present that they planned to push back the release to June 2024 from February, according the people, who asked not to be identified because they weren’t authorized to speak publicly. The additional time would give developers a chance to improve the product. In the meantime, Parsons told staff Bungie would be cutting costs, such as for travel, as well as implementing salary and hiring freezes, the people said. Everyone would have to work together to weather the storm, he said, leaving employees feeling determined to do whatever was needed to get revenue back up. But on Monday morning the news got worse: Dozens of staffers woke up to mysterious 15-minute meetings that had been placed on their calendars, which they soon learned were part of a mass layoff. Bungie laid off around 8% of its employees, according to documentation reviewed by Bloomberg. Bungie didn’t respond to requests for comment. Employees who were let go will receive at least three months of severance and three months of Bungie-paid COBRA health insurance, although other benefits, such as expense reimbursements, ended Monday, sending some staff racing to submit their receipts. Laid-off staffers will also receive prorated bonuses, although those who were on a vesting schedule following Sony Group Corp.’s acquisition of Bungie in January 2022 will lose any shares that weren’t vested as of next month. The layoffs are part of a larger money-saving initiative at Sony’s PlayStation unit, which has also cut employees at studios such as Naughty Dog, Media Molecule and its San Mateo office. TD Cowen analyst Doug Creutz wrote in a report Monday that “events over the last few days lead us to believe that PlayStation is undergoing a restructuring.” PlayStation president Jim Ryan announced last month that he plans to resign. Many of the layoffs at Bungie affected the company’s support departments, such as community management and publishing. Remaining Bungie staff were informed that some of those areas will be outsourced moving forward.

[ghostfanwriter]

🎂🩷 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭 🩷🎂

Part two →

🩷 Pairing: Single dad, young Joel Miller x Baker! Reader

🎂 Setting: No outbreak AU. Joel's in his mid-thirties, and reader's on her mid/late twenties.

🩷 Synopsis: Like a sending from heaven, Joel Miller comes in to buy a birthday cake in your bakery. Sure, late night renovations won't lead to anything, right?

🎂 Features: Flirting, Joel blushing, reader being on her knees for him already, the girls being the sweetest, Joel being a super hot, super stressed, dad.

🩷 Word Count: Around 2.3k.

🎂 About this: This is the introduction to how they've met. I keep coming hack to this story whenever Dirty Hands gets tricky, it's my little comfort baby.

🩷 Author's Note: I have no idea how much a cake costs in the US, so help a girl out and just leave it alone if it 's too - way too - off. Hope you like it 🩷

The clock shows 6:20pm, your bakery — supposedly — closes at 6:30pm.

You finish serving the last table — that seems to have no hurry to leave — and go back behind your counter, watching your step to avoid the missing tile behind your cakes' display.

It's almost closing time and all your prayers are concentrated on asking for this couple to leave as soon as possible, as you still have to clean, prepare your doughs for tomorrow and close everything before finally going home.

And after a whole day of working — mostly alone — on your bakery, all you want is to get some rest.

You're on your computer looking up flooring options, and your search is interrupted by a man walking in, his large frame stopping in front of your cakes and carefully looking at all of them, his eyes focused on the options.

"Hi, good evening!" You greet him, getting up, your smile widening as you take him in. Large shoulders, fluffy hair, big eyes, sculpted nose.

He's wearing a blue jacket, his sunglasses are, for some reason, still on his head, and he has his backpack on his back.

"Hey, good evening." He greets you, his voice deep and soft, his eyes still glued to the cakes on your display. Frowning when he sees a particularly pretty one.

"Can I help you?" You ask sweetly, and he looks up at you for the first time, smiling back at you, cursing himself for taking so long to look at you.

"I'm sorry, I was just looking at them, they're all so pretty." He says, embarrassed by how he didn't even aknowledge you when he entered your store.

"No it's fine, I'll take it as a compliment." You say, laughing.

"It's not like they're the only thing worth looking at here. But they sure catch your attention." He says, watching your face, and you feel your cheeks on fire, your eyes almost watering at how flustered the man's got you.

"Thank you." You manage to say, your voice slightly smaller, and he looks back at the cakes.

"What flavor is this pink one?" He asks, and you bend over the display to look at it.

"Hmm, that's a pink velvet! With a custard and fresh strawberries filing." You say, and he frowns. The cake is covered in white and pink frosting, decorated with fresh strawberries.

"Oof, that sounds amazing." He says, and you smile.

"It's one of my favorites." You admit.

"Well, then I'll take it, please." He says, laughing.

"Alright. Is it a gift?" You ask, reaching for the packagings, and he shakes his head.

"No, no. It's for me." He says, and you grab a regular box.

"Well, you do like cake then, huh?" You joke as you take the cake to pack it, and he laughs at it.

"I do, yeah. But this one's for my birthday." He says, laughing, and you smile at him.

"Oh, why didn't you just say it?" You ask. "Happy birthday! Did you know we have a special discount for people's birthdays?"

"Uh, you do? Well... but I don't really want to show you my ID. Don't like to think about the number there, you know?" He laughs, his pretty eyes scrunching at his own words.

"How about I take your word?" You suggest, and he smiles. "I mean, you're either telling me the truth or you really like cake. Or you're just hungry, I mean, your job looks like really heavy work." You say, mentioning his clothes, covered in concrete and paint.

"Those would be three checks. I do love cake, and I am starving because of work. But it is also my birthday." He says.

"Well, then you do deserve the discount." You say, closing the bag. "It'll be 22 dollars." You say.

"Alright." He says, reaching for his wallet on the front pocket of his worn out jeans. "Here." He hands you 30 dollars, and you grab his change.

"Here you go." You hand it to him.

"Oh, no. Keep the change, please." He says.

"No, c'mon. Birthday discount, remember?" You say, almost pouting.

"Here says the cake costs almost 35 dollars." He says, leaning to read the price tag on the display, scrunching his eyes so the numbers become clear. "You were generous enough with your discount." He adds, grabbing the bag.

"Because it's your birthday discount!" You say playfully, extending your arm further, and he pushes your hand away.

"I said keep it." He says firmly, making you flinch, your breathing getting stuck in your throat. "How about I take the discount and you take the change as a tip for you?" He suggests, and you smile. "Keep it." He insists, smiling.

"Thank you." You say, putting the change back, a shy and uncontrollable smile stuck on your face.

"Thank you." He says, looking at you, his eyes somehow even softer. "'Till next time." He says, and you take a deep breath as he turns around.

"Hey, sorry?" You call, and he turns back — a bit eagerly, you could swear —, looking at you, a smile on his lips.

"Yeah."

"You do work in construction, right?" You ask. "I mean, your clothes and all."

"Well, they don't let me lie." He jokes. "I'm a contractor. Was just working across the street." He explains.

"Do you work with renovations? Like, changing floorings, fixing drywalls, changing lights and custumized furniture?" You ask.

"I do, yeah. I have a company, actually. I work for myself." He says. "Although furniture isn't exactly my field. But I know some good people who do it, I can give you their number." He offers.

"Yeah, I'd love that." You say, and he puts the cake back on top of your counter, reaching for his wallet.

"Here." He hands you two cards. "This one's mine, this one's a guy that builds all sorts of furniture. Almost all kinds of materials, I work with him all the time, you can trust him." He says.

"Joel Miller?" You ask smiling, looking at him, his cheeks reddening when he hears you say his name.

It sounds so goddamn sweet on your lips.

"Yeah." He says. "You just give me a call and I come over to talk, see what you wanna do, no commitment."

"Sure! I just want to renovate the floorings, fix some broken stuff." You say. "I'll call you before the weekend so we can talk better." You promise.

"Great. Can't wait to hear from you." He says, grabbing his cake again. "See you." He says, turning around, and you wave goodbye, but he turns as soon as he reaches the door. "Will you call from this number?" He asks, pointing at the number printed on the bag.

"Yeah, that's my professional number." You say, smiling.

"Alright. Just so when you call I know it's you." He says. "Make sure I won't miss it." He adds, smiling.

"Thank you." You smile back.

"Well, now I'll go. See ya." He says, this time actually leaving the store.

You watch as he gets into a black truck, and almost jumps when he looks at you, giving you a little wave — that you're eager to mimick — as he starts his car, driving away.

Your cheeks hurt as you can't control your smile. A beautiful, kind and funny man just walked in, bought a pink cake — with no problem with the color —, maybe flirted with you and now you have his number? And he said he'll make sure he won't miss your call?

God bless the couple that made you stay open for a little longer.

And just as you think of them, they come towards you to pay, thanking you for the food and complimenting your pastries. You thank them — although it's not just for the nice words — and close soon after they leave.

You put all the chairs up, clean the floors and go to the kitchen, where you prepare some of your dough for the next day.

Now you're even more excited to start the renovations around your bakery.

The next day you try to focus on your chores and not call him, and he spends the whole day rushing to his phone and sighing when he picks it up and sees it's not you.

The day after that you can't help it anymore, though.

Not only because you're dying to see the man again — and make sure he wasn't just a mirage your tired brain came up with to distract you from how tired you were that day —, but also because you couldn't stand anymore having to ditch loose flooring pieces, the broken doors of your balconies, the dying ceiling lights.

So you take a deep breath, almost shaking as you leave your mixer mixing your brownie batter and go to the open patio to call him.

His phone rings while he gives Ellie, his toddler, her breakfast — or tries to, anyway.

"Ellie, baby, c'mon, help daddy, your sister's gonna be late for school."

"No!" She laughed, amused with her dad's suffering. He lets his head fall down, defeated.

"Alright, then you're going to daycare with just apple juice on your tummy, because we really need to leave now." He says, and she cheers. "Sarah, honey, are you ready?" He asks his four-year old when she comes downstairs, and she nods enthusiastically.

"Yes, daddy! Can we go now? I don't wanna be late, Mrs. Roberts gives a star for who arrives early." She says. "And I haven't gotten one in over two days!" She says, frustrated.

"Did you brush your teeth?" He asks her while he starts washing the dishes.

"Yes! Of course I did." She says, her tone not even convincing herself.

"Let me check." He says, leaning down, and her eyes widen. "C'mon, come here." He calls, beckoning for her to come close to him, and she sighs.

"I'll go brush them now." She says, defeated. "But then we're leaving!" She yells the last part as she runs upstairs.

He finishes the dishes and cleans Ellie, removing her from her highchair. Just when he's about to take her to the bathroom to brush her teeth, his phone rings, and he sits Ellie on the table to see who's calling him.

He sees the unsaved number and remembers it faintly from your bakery bag, so he looks around, trying to see if he can find it.

"Ellie, don't move, alright, baby?" He tells her, who doesn't even aknowledge him, too busy playing with her toys.

He lets go of her and opens the cabinet where he keeps his plastic bags, looking for the pink one from your bakery. He finds it and sees the number is indeed yours.

"Fuck." He curses quietly. "Tommy!" He yells, calling for his brother. "Come here, I need to pick up the phone, quick." He screams, and Tommy shows up almost immediately.

"Hey." His brother says, clearly just out of bed.

"Watch Ellie, don't let Sarah come after me." He says, walking to his backyard.

He doesn't like his clients knowing how agitated and insane his personal life can be with two small kids and no one around to help. So he always tries to make work calls as quiet as he can.

"Hi!" He says, almost too excited as he picks up the phone, thanking God he made it in time.

"Hi! Joel?" You ask, and he smiles when he hears your voice.

"Yeah, it's me." He says, and you can almost hear the smile on his lips.

"Oh, hey. I'm from the bakery where you bought that pink cake?" You ask, and he takes a second to respond, trying to not make it obvious that he's spent the previous day running to his phone, hoping to hear from you.

"Oh, yeah, I remember! You said you wanted new floorings and furniture, right?" He asks, shooting Tommy a look when he grabs Sarah last minute so she doesn't go after him.

"Yeah, that's me!" You say, feeling awkward. Trying to remind yourself that it's just a professional call, and you don't have to be so nervous. "Could you come over? As soon as you can? I wanted to talk about the renovations." You say, and he nods, only after a second realizing that you can't see him, feeling stupid.

It's just a work call, for God's sake, chill out, Joel Miller.

"Sure, I can be over today, does that work for you? Maybe after you close, or maybe tomorrow before you're open?" He suggests, trying not to sound too eager.

As silly as it sounds, you can't help but think about how you're dressed, what your hair looks like. You stop in front of a window, checking yourself, and only when you make sure you won't die if he sees what you look like today, you can confirm.

"Today would be great! I'm closing at six-thirty, so you could come over at seven, if that's ok? So I can clean a bit before we can talk."

"Sounds great. I'll be there." He agrees.

"Alright, see you then." You say, your beating faster than it has in a long time.

"See ya." He says, running back inside.

"Sure that was a work call?" Tommy teases him, and Joel shoots him a look.

"Daddy, c'mon!" Sarah says, pulling his arm as soon as he closes the backdoor.

"Come here." He kneels down with one knee, holding her shoulders. "Let me check." He says, and she laughs as she blows his face, a tutti-frutti smell invading his nose. "Great, baby, thank you." He says, kissing the top of her head.

"Can we go now? I don't wanna be late." She asks, sounding almost sad.

"We're going, honey. Let's go." He says, picking Ellie and her backpack up, grabbing Tommy's shoulder. "Listen, I need you to go see the Gellers tonight, I have something else." He says, and his brother sighs.

"C'mon, man, not the fucking Gellers." He begs.

"Gellers. You. Tonight. 8pm. Don't mess it up, Tommy!" He yells, leaving the house. "Girls, say bye to uncle Tommy."

"Bye uncle Tommy!" They both say, waving him goodbye.

"Bye, girls! Be good, huh?" He says, and Joel closes the door.

...

Joel never missed having a mom for the girls. No matter how tired and overwhelmed he may get taking care of them by himself — mostly, at least. He could never risk adding someone to the equation and getting his girls hurt in the process.

"Daddy?" Sarah says when he comes back to the car after dropping Ellie at daycare.

"Yes, baby." He says sweetly, turning back to look at her.

"Your shirt's inside out." She says, laughing, and he looks down at himself. He grabs the steering wheel and dramatically drops his head on it, making her laugh even harder.

Having someone to share this life with would be nice, though.

Soo, what do you think?

Your thoughts are so, so important, please let me know if you liked it! I hope you did, can't wait to give you the rest of their story 🩷🫶🏻

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