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flowersandbigteeth · 6 months

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Your vampire husband Pt. 5

General Plot: Your vampire husband turns you

Word Count: 3.5K

Vampire (Levi) x single mother reader

A/N: I've gotten lots of general requests for another part for Levi

💕 SFW MASTERPOST 💕

TW: blood drinking, kidnapping, vampire bites, slightly spicy banter , sfw vampire fluff

“What about this?” you asked Meryl as you strolled through the fancy grocery store you were at.

You picked up a few glass pots of baby food, holding them up to Meryl.

“Peach or pear?”

She looked at them, then looked at you. Smiling, she stuffed a hand into her mouth and drooled.

You giggled.

“Okay, both. Daddy can afford it.”

Since you’d been with Levi, you didn’t normally go out on your own, but you’d been feeling a little stifled at the big house. You were wrapped up in vampire business. Levi had meetings with other vampires, with his subordinates, with his family…There was lots of intrigue to follow, but you felt like you’d lost the real world. Hence, when Levi was out that afternoon, you convinced the vampire guard who usually accompanied you on any trips to let you go grocery shopping.

She’d wanted to follow you inside, but you were tired of someone looming over your shoulder. You convinced her nothing could possibly go wrong in a grocery store so she could wait in the car.

It felt like forever since you’d been carefully searching for coupons and rummaging through the bargain bin to feed Meryl, but in reality, it had only been a few months. Meryl was getting bigger, but she was still a baby.

As you moved to the next aisle, a foul smell floated up from your daughter and you sighed as it was time for another diaper change. Stashing your half-full cart outside, you toted her and her baby bag into the bathroom to get her cleaned up.

When you came back out, you looked around for your cart to find it further down the hallway than you’d left it, next to the staff entrance. You figured someone had moved it out of the way, so without a second thought, you walked further away from the bright lights and bustling store to fetch it.

When your fingers closed around the plastic handle, you felt the air brush against your cheek, and your vision went dark. You tried to scream for help, but a cold hand clamped over your lips, and someone wrenched Meryl out of your hands.

Your motherly instincts told you to fight to the death for your daughter, but the moment you balled your fists, everything went silent, and you saw only oblivion.

“Meryl!” you shouted when you jerked awake.

Your eyes popped open, flying around the room you were in frantically. Since you’d last been kidnapped, you forced your focus to your wrists, which were free and unharmed. Looking up again, you noticed a bassinet just beyond the couch you’d been splayed over.

Hopping up, you found Meryl inside, safe and sound fast asleep.

You had no idea where you could be. The living room you were in was opulently decorated in an antiquated style and lit by a crackling fire, but did not belong to your husband.

A heavy door swung open, and a tall figure appeared, silhouetted by the light in the hallway.

“Ivan,” you muttered, recognizing Levi’s cousin, his bright blue eyes glowing like aquamarine jewels.

He took a few steps into the room, grinning.

“Hello, my dear. I mentioned we would meet again soon.”

You frowned, stepping between him and Meryl.

“What am I doing here?”

His gaze followed your protective gesture, and he smirked.

“Don’t fret for her safety. Your daughter will not be harmed. She’s actually quite cute up close.”

Casually walking over to a leather couch, he sat down and patted the seat next to him.

Your eyes narrowed, but you followed his lead, sitting on the opposite side of the couch, as far from him as possible. He may have been smiling at you, but you knew he was dangerous. Behind baby blue eyes, you could see the hunger of a big cat, tail flicking behind him as he closed in on his prey.

“What do you want?” you asked. “Levi isn’t going to be happy when I don’t make it home.”

He snorted.

“Of course. I’m sure he’ll tear his coven apart, murder whoever happens to be in his path… Levi’s weakness is his pithy emotions.”

He examined you closely, leaning his head on his fist.

“Though, I’m starting to see the vision.”

“Why are you doing this? Do you want to see him suffer? I thought you were friends. He’s your cousin.”

Smirking, he moved closer to you.

“Vampire lords can never truly be friends. Allies…maybe. If it’s convenient.”

“So you’re declaring war? That’s what will happen if you don’t return me.”

His face oddly changed, the dark interest in his gaze held melted into puppy dog eyes.

“Why does he get to have special things and I don’t?”

“Special things?” you murmured, glancing over at Meryl, who was still sleeping cozily.

“We aren’t things. We are people.”

His eyes glinted.

“Not if I change that. Did Levi tell you everything about what happens when a vampire turns you?”

“I assume so, what else is there to know?”

Ivan chuckled, brushing your cheek as he spoke.

“I doubt it. I’m sure if he had, you’d be quite a bit more frightened right now.”

He paused for a moment, savoring your innocent face before he terrified you.

“When a vampire like Levi or I, a full-blooded vampire, changes a human…they become linked to him. Usually, vampires use this quirk to amass an army of slaves…but sometimes they fall in love and use their power to turn that lover. Once Levi changes you (Y/N) you are his forever. You won’t be able to harm him, kill him, or deny his will over you. You’ll be his devoted servant.”

He sighed.

“Some vampires, the very, very old ones, believe no vampire can ever really truly love a human, because inevitably they will want to change them so they won’t have to watch them age and die…but how can you be truly a romantic partner when you have no choice to walk away? Perhaps we vampires are cursed to watch the one we truly love slip away from us no matter what we choose.”

A bolt of ice-cold fear shot down your spine. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Levi, but the idea of being anyone’s slave for centuries in itself was a terrifying prospect.

“What…do you…want…from me?” you whispered on a breath.

His lips parted to a smile that revealed his fangs, sparkling in the firelight.

“I don’t think Levi’s done enough to deserve you. You were rather easy to capture, so I can only assume he’s not that serious.”

You tried to slide away from him but only hit the arm of the couch. Your heart thudded in your chest, and instinctively, you looked over your shoulder at Meryl.

Ivan tipped your head to the side with a cold hand, drawing you back to him.

“Don’t be scared. Levi has bitten you before…you’ll like it.”

“I don’t want to be yours if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You speak as if what you want matters. Levi has indulged you. I can see why…but what do you humans say? Spare the rod, spoil the child.”

“Levi will kill you,” you warned.

He just chuckled.

“He might try.”

“You don’t really want us. You don’t know us. You’re the spoiled one.”

He pouted.

“Why wouldn’t I want you? Levi seems so happy. Too happy. I want to be happy.”

“Then find your own wife.”

“Why go to all the trouble when he’s done the work for me?”

His dark smile dropped suddenly, his ears pricking.

“Hmm,” he hummed, standing. “Stay here.”

Ivan held a different level of arrogance, expecting you to hang around for him to bite and enslave you. The minute he shut the door, you tried the windows. They were locked, but assuming Ivan was occupied, you decided to take a risk. You picked up the first end table you could lift and threw it through the glass.

You winced at the loud crash but didn’t have any interest in sticking around to see if anyone heard you.

In her crib, Meryl stirred and you cooed at her, hoping to keep her quiet. Scooping her and securing her to your back with a blanket, you threw one leg out of the window, relieved to find you were only on the second floor.

Gunshots from somewhere nearby, startled you, making you almost lose your footing. Gripping the cold stone window ledge, you carefully lowered yourself to the next one, then easily hopped to the ground.

Near the entrance of the mansion, you could now see you’d been in, flashing lights accompanied the gunshots. Wondering if Levi had come to save you, you peeked around the corner of the building trying to make out the figures. To your dismay, they didn’t look at all like vampires. It was hard to tell, but you were pretty sure they were Orcs. They looked rather tall and thick in the darkness.

Running to them might be worse than Ivan, so you turned in the opposite direction, creeping quietly into the night so as not to jostle Meryl and make her cry.

You stopped when you could see a road just beyond the trees, panting with exertion. Hope bloomed in your chest. A road meant people, and people meant a way home.

Only you never made it to the next few steps. Someone tugged Meryl from your back and shoved you into a tree. At first, you were sure it was Ivan, but a familiar scent filled your lungs.

“Levi?”

In the darkness, you could hardly make out his face, but his red eyes flashed danger.

“Naughty. Naughty wife,” he growled.

His voice was low and cruel, the same tone he used when he was about to tear someone apart. Your heart turned to ice, but your thoughts were always on Meryl.

“Please, Levi, don’t hurt her.”

His eyes widened and narrowed, the rich red color becoming almost painful to look at.

“You think I’d hurt my own daughter?”

Your mouth opened and closed, words caught in your throat.

“You disobeyed me. You went out without a guard. Were you trying to get stolen? Do I mean so little to you? Perhaps Ivan was right, perhaps I’ve been coddling you.”

At that, your brow drew.

“You heard that?”

He didn’t answer, but your anger grew to match his.

“You sat outside while Ivan terrorized me…to what? Make a point?”

“Ivan is stupid and arrogant. You are lucky it was him who caught you and not someone smarter. I gave you a guard to protect you, and you signed her death warrant.”

You gasped.

“You killed her?”

“Ivan’s spawn did. She was caught off guard.”

He huffed, holding Meryl to his chest. His eyes went dark for a moment as he pressed a kiss into her fluff of hair.

“I’ve told you a thousand times. My world is dangerous! What do you think it would do to me if someone stole you away? My lessers must obey my orders to the T. She defied me. …at your request. I should have killed her myself. You need to take responsibility.”

Anger still boiled just below your skin, but so did guilt, and sadness.

“Fine…” you muttered. “I will take responsibility.”

You looked up at him, still glowing hot in the pitch-black forest.

“Change me.”

He blinked at you and you could make out his mouth opening.

“What?”

“I want you to change me. I’m tired of being weak. I’m tired of walking on eggshells and hiding. I want to be able to protect myself and Meryl. If you change me…I’ll…I’ll be strong.”

He took a heavy step forward, his hand hitting the tree behind you as he searched your eyes.

“You know what it truly is now…and you still…want that…?”

Your face blanched, but you lifted your chin defiantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because…I was afraid you would say no if you knew the truth…that you might try to run. I planned to tell you...when the time was right. When I knew you’d agree.”

You sucked in a deep breath.

“The time is now, Levi. Meryl’s mostly on solid food and…”

Swallowing heavily, you reached up and pulled Levi’s hand down to you, pressing it against your cheek.

“I don’t want to be Ivan’s. I don’t want to be anyone’s but yours. Any vampire could steal me away and make me their spawn in seconds.”

“(Y/N), If you do this for the wrong reasons…you might come to hate me.”

“I might…but I might not. I love you…and that’s a better foundation than…”

You didn’t even want to say his name. You didn’t want any part of this conversation to be about him.

“Your cousin.”

He blinked at you, pulling you into his arms.

“You’ve never said that so easily before. I wondered if you really felt the same way that I felt about you.”

“I…took you and your world for granted. I’m sorry for that. We need to be a united front. We aren’t just married, we’re parents. I trust you…and I love you…so it’s time.”

He glanced around, picking you up and flopping you over the shoulder that wasn’t occupied with Meryl.

“We’re not doing it here.”

You could hardly think straight as he loaded you into an SUV that had been parked on the side of the road. It was hard to formulate a vision of what you would be as a vampire. You squeezed Levi’s hand so hard it would have hurt him had he been human.

“What happened back there?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from what was to come.

“I told you, Ivan is stupid. He was already a target for the Orcs for killing one of their leaders during a poker game. I told them where he was hiding out. His idiocy knows no bounds. Stealing from the one person who knows where you are hiding…there aren’t words.”

He patted your head.

“I had planned on confronting him while his minions were distracted, but my clever little wife rescued herself.”

You relaxed at his praise, but he stiffened and shot you a grimace.

“Don’t do that again.”

You blinked at him.

“Will I be able to…after?”

His face softened, and he looked away.

“If I don’t force my will on you, then yes…but I admit that will be very difficult.”

“You can’t promise that you won’t?”

He looked at you for a long time, and you saw the lie cross his mind, but he straightened himself and decided to tell the truth.

“No, I can’t, and you should understand that before you agree. If you put yourself in danger (Y/N)...I can’t promise.”

You sucked in a deep breath considering that.

“Can you promise me one thing, then?”

The silence stretched on for a minute.

“If we’re ever in a situation where you must choose me or Meryl. Choose her. That’s what I would want if I could choose myself.”

A pained look crossed his face, but he nodded, pulling your hand to his lips and kissing it.

When you reach the mansion, he daintily tucked Meryl in her crib and took you to one of the guest rooms. His face held an expression of complete focus. Levi had changed many humans, but it was not without its risks. If you failed to swallow his blood at the moment of your death, you could be lost forever.

He considered not doing it at all. Was this selfish? Risking your life so that you might never leave him.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked as he laid you down on the bed.

“Yes.”

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. Your fingers trembled, and he folded his hand around yours.

“Don’t be frightened. Remember when I bit you before? Instead of pulling out of that oblivion…embrace it. You will wake up again.”

You would have felt more confident if he had not been looking at you like it was the last time. He tilted your head to the side, running a finger over the column of your neck. Your breaths came in halting pants, wondering what being the living dead felt like.

His head dipped, and you felt his breath tickle your skin.

“Wait!” you gasped.

Levi’s head jerked up, and he looked…disturbed.

“H-have you changed your mind? This cannot be undone, (Y/N).”

“I-It’s not that…It’s…”

Your eyes met his; the frightening, glaring shade dimmed to a more sensual scarlet.

“Will you still love me when I’m cold?”

He blinked at you before he chuckled. Slapping his chest, you pouted.

“I’m serious, Levi. What if you don’t like me as a vampire?”

He wrinkled his nose.

“Impossible. If anything it will be a relief. Do you know how much I worry? When you balance on a stool to reach a shelf…I wonder if you’ll slip and break your neck. When you are fiddling with your hairdryer, I wonder if some stray drop of water will have you electrocuted.”

He cupped your cheek.

“You and Meryl are maddeningly delicate.”

Taking your hand again, he gazed up at you from behind your fingers.

“We both need this.”

Swallowing a cold lump in your throat, you relaxed against the pillow under your head.

This time, Levi’s hand slipped up your stomach, slowly tracing the curves of your body until he reached your throat. Pushing your head to the side, he pressed a soft kiss at the crook of your neck. He gave you no warning, the slight pinch making you jump. A tight mewl slipped past your lips and your instincts told you to pull away, but Levi’s strong fingers held you in place until your fear was replaced with a warm euphoria. It bloomed like a night flower, starting as one tight bud in the pit of your stomach; it blossomed into soft petals capturing all of your senses.

It was easy to do as he asked: accept oblivion. It called to you in alluring tones. As your vision of the coffered ceiling above your head faded, it was replaced with a golden glow—perhaps a blurry view of the afterlife. On its own, your hand reached towards the warmth, your fingertips grazing an ethereal surface that almost tickled.

A smile grew on your lips for just a moment, until it seemed to be getting further and further away. The pure sensation of peace and comfort drifted just out of your reach. Something else pulled you closer, willing you to turn your head from paradise and look into the darkness.

There was a figure there, sanguine eyes bleeding to bitter memories. Horrors that couldn’t be described properly in words, but shook you to your core. It was frightening but familiar. You realized this was Levi. Emotions and images without context flashed in front of you. Cold, pain, emptiness. You watched him grow from a small child to a man. Sadness and regret pressed on your chest, pushing the breath from you until it broke.

You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw a little flicker of light. It was so tiny at first; you thought maybe you were imaging it, but then you saw yourself. The first time Levi had seen you. The first time he’d seen Meryl. Your smile, eyes, and sadness choking you ebbed like the tide, leaving tenderness behind.

A dark tendril took your hand, drawing you into his consciousness. What was you bled into what was him, linking the two of you for eternity. The wave of pain that had been drawn away returned as unconditional, undeniable love. You could see how it colored every action, every gesture, every kiss.

At first, you assumed you were entering him, but it was clear you were already there. Only your independent consciousness had just arrived.

There were other quiet voices, his other spawn…creatures he’d created. You tasted their thoughts and feelings, but he pulled you into a space separate from them—a space reserved for you.

This place was insulated, warm, and quiet. He cradled you there and the odd copper taste of blood coated your tongue. You were supposed to be doing something, but you couldn’t remember what. Another warm tendril lifted your chin and you found apple red-eyes looking at you.

“It’s done.”

Suddenly, the world was real. You were in a bed– you could feel the fibers of the sheets underneath your fingers. You smelled Levi and Meryl, pleasant scents, and also the odd mish-mash of the other vampires in the house. Your gums ached and you lifted your fingers to glide them over the pointy fangs that had grown from your canines.

“I feel…different.”

Levi smiled, eyes slipping over your face.

“I know.”

He knew everything. He was in your head, answering your thoughts before you could even express them.

“I’m not like the others.”

He’d closed your mind to his vampire minions. It was hard to comprehend the sensation with what lingered of your human thoughts, but you felt nestled someplace close and secret.

“You have access to my thoughts. It’s only fair that if I can see all of you, you can see all of me. You will never be my servant.”

A hand slid under your shoulders and he sat you up.

“Will Meryl still recognize me?”

Before you even finished the thought, he nodded. His vision of you flashed in your mind, still looking like your old self, but a bit more. You could feel his affection for you in real-time, peace, happiness, relief, and arousal. He wanted to touch you, but he was holding back. Even with access to your innermost feelings, he was unsure how to approach you.

“Come here.”

You scooted over on the bed and tugged him next to you. The desire he felt bled into every nerve ending lighting them up. Gazing at him through your lashes, instinct told you to bear your fangs. The pure, sensual hunger you reflected back at him turned his eyes glossy and his cheeks red.

“I’m hungry.”

He pulled you onto his lap to straddle him and pushed his hair to one side. He had plenty of blood to share with you. You listened to it occur to him you might want to feed on someone else some day. You felt him extract the little inklking from your consciousness, isolating it, then crushing it.

You wanted to only feed from him. It might have been alarming that mere minutes after becoming his, he’d used his power over you to change your mind, but you were too hungry to focus on that fact. Levi happily steered your thoughts to his smooth skin and scent, enticing you to bite.

As you latched on to his neck, his eyes rolled back, the pleasure of your little teeth and the smug satisfaction that you were forever his a heady drug.

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keeksandgigz · 8 months

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the witch hunt

eddie munson x witch!reader

part 2 of "the love witch"

Summary: You've been good about keeping your magic a secret from Eddie, much to your dismay, so diligent on hiding your true self. What happens when you leave your potion cabinet unattended, he drinks one of your concoctions and turns himself into stone, leaving you to turn him back, right in front of his eyes?

CW: 5k words, no y/n, reader's nickname is 'witchy' , talk of the occult, wiccan practices, description of r's clothing, but no body description, eddie turns to stone, angsty angst angst but with a happy ending, witchy casts some serious spells in this one, mentions of witchy being depressed, eddie being a lovesick fool

thank u to my lovely @reidsbtch for beta reading I love u I love u I love u

Read part 1 here, Witchyverse masterpost here

feedback is always appreciated!

You've been good. You've been diligent. You've been following the rules of the coven.

To not share the gift with anyone, a secret kept under oath, hand over the binding of an old spell book, its surface course and rough, centuries of hands- young, old, powerful and weak, all part of the history of how that book came to be.

When you started dating Eddie, you were summoned, warned by your coven to keep the magic away from your human boyfriend, hidden under a veil of thin shame disguised as indifference.

And six months went by, then a year. You thought you were safe, you thought you'd gotten through the worst part of keeping the secret.

You deluded yourself. He loves you so much, there's no reason he would leave you, not even for a secret as big as yours. You've put protection spells around everything that involved actual magic in your house, the potion cabinet you kept in the hallways as decoration, the spell books hidden under a floorboard in your room.

Although he could not feel it, your apartment pulsated with raw magical energy in its purest form. You really thought you were safe.

A rainy November afternoon, you're tasked to bring some ingredients you've had stashed at your apartment to your aunt Hilda's house, a delivery from Janice- ingredients from Bulgaria, after your shift.

What surprises you about your aunt Hilda is that despite being a witch, she does not go unnoticed- living in one of the Painted Ladies house in the heart of San Francisco, all by herself and her cat, Arsenio.

She always invites you in for tea and a reading, so you step into her house, smelling of antique parchment, tea leaves and a mystical smell of pungent resin and wood, much different from your incense and dried flowers smell.

"I need to invite Janice over one of these days" she says in her veiled voice, pouring you a cup of jasmine tea.

"I don't know if she's going to be able to get out of Haight Ashbury, Aunt Hilda. She's like two- hundred years old or something" you laugh, rummaging through your bag for the delivery you visited your aunt for, placing the jars on the table.

She gasps in delight "You can't get those plants anywhere else, she must have paid a fortune for that blood from a vampire's fangs" she squeals, running to her cabinet to find a home for her new deliveries.

"How's your human, dear?" she asks from the kitchen, followed by clattering of glass and metal.

"Oh, Eddie's fine, he should be off work soon, maybe we'll do something after" you shrug, petting her cat, Arsenio, on your lap.

"And his handsome hunk of an uncle?" you roll your eyes at that.

"God, Aunt Hilda, gross" you groan, sinking in your seat.

"Let me know when he's back in town, I need to invite them both over one of these days, it might be nice. Shall we do a reading before I leave?" she sits back down at the small table and takes a sip of her tea, tarot cards in hand.

"Yeah, I'll ask him for his schedule" you finish your tea "Let me do a one card pull, I need to get home"

"You know, dear, you've been awfully nervous lately- so jumpy" She says, as she shuffles the laminated cards for what feels like forever,

"I'm okay, Aunt Hilda, just stressed with work" you lie, exhaling with anticipation as her wrinkled hand holds the deck. Your aunt's readings have always made you nervous.

You'd been jumpy for a while, the thought of Eddie finding out had been making you nervous, but you wouldn't dare to tell your aunt that.

She offers the deck to you, you pick a card and then give it to her. A gasp escapes her upon looking at it.

A panic rises through your body "What? What is it?" you ask, your bag already across your shoulder, holding on to its strap.

"The Tower" she mutters, destruction, unexpected change, awakening.

A shiver runs down your spine, one by one your vertebrae straighten "I just had a really bad feeling, dear. I would check in on your human boy" she places a hand on her temple, heart racing as you bolt out of your seat and leave.

On the train, panic settles in, wondering if Eddie was somehow connected to this.

A call startles you. It's him.

You tremble when nearing the phone to your ear.

"Hey, witchy, I'm at your house- I used the spare key. I just called 'cause I had a question" he says, voice dubious and vague.

"What is it, Ed? I'm on my way home"

"I was just wondering if it's normal that the cabinet in your hallway is open? I had to stop Circe from getting into it a couple times" you hear a meowing in the background, he must be holding her.

"What cabinet?" you feel your chest rise and fall at an incredibly fast pace.

"The one with the wilted flowers on them, it has a bunch of bottles. Are- are these fake potions?" There's an amused lilt in his voice, almost as if he's laughing at you. Fuck. The potion cabinet.

"Eddie don't touch anything, I'm literally here" your alarmed tone freaks him out, but he has no time to say anything as you hang up and enter your apartment building.

You run up the stairs, heart in your throat, as you reach your front door and slam it open. Eddie's head swings violently.

"Hey, witchy, what's wrong?" he stands up from the cabinet, holding Circe on one arm. You're heaving, irregular breaths, as you see he's still standing, alive, and breathing.

You close the door. "You didn't touch anything in there, did you?" you run towards the open cabinet, checking for missing bottles.

"Witchy, honey, I don't get why you're so jumpy about a couple of fake potions, they would actually be really useful for DnD" Eddie chuckles, reaching into the cabinet to grab a bottle, observing it up close. A greyish- blue liquid swirls inside the bottle.

"Eddie! Put it back! It's dangerous!" you exclaim as you reach for the bottle, but he's blocking you.

"Baby, I think you might be getting a little too carried away with this witchy stuff. There's no way you should be reacting like this over some water and dye" he swirls the bottle once again "I'll even drink it, show you it's not actually that dangerous"

A smug smile adorns his lips, as you watch helplessly while he uncorks the small vial and downs its content.

“EDDIE NO” You aren’t even sure what it is, which makes a panic set into your stomach, hoping you could reverse whatever he ingested.

“No, no, no, no, what have you done?” your head encapsulated in your hands, feeling the beady sweat on your hairline, falling to your knees with the realization. You’re going to have to tell him.

“See? Not dangerous, baby. I love you, but you need to do something about this obsession, it’s getting out of hand” he sighs “I’m hungry i’m gonna get some food” but before he can even take a step, the rumbling of stone fills the room.

You grab the empty glass vial and examine its label. Shit. He turned himself to stone.

In a panic, he looks at you.

“Witchy, what’s going on?” his eyes dart from you to his frozen legs, the stone spreading itself upward quickly “Witch-what- is that stone?” He goes still after that.

A statue. His cold, grey eyes staring up at you in a panic.

Tears brimming your eyes at the sudden realization that once you turn him back to normal he’s going to know.

His hands feel cold at the touch as you cling on to your boyfriend’s statued form. Mouth agape, eyebrows pinched in fear, it hurt you to see him like this. You were going to lose it all because of a dumb mistake.

A desperate scream bubbles inside your chest as you hold yourself flush against Eddie’s cold surface, wishing his arms could hug you back, having to come to terms with the fact that this is probably the last time you’ll ever see him in your home. You won’t ever get to hold him again.

Weak and teary- eyed you reach for your phone, wiping under your eyes as you try to stabilize yourself.

“Hello, dear?” aunt Hilda says through the phone.

“Aunt Hilda I made a really terrible mistake” you sob, shoulders shaking with the violence of your hiccups.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” the concern is palpable through her voice.

“I left- left my potion cabinet open and Eddie-” another string of violent sobs follow, rumbled deep in your chest, shaking you to your very core.

“What happened to Eddie?” The question is cautious, though unfortunately you could feel the alarm and sternness in her voice.

“He turned to stone” you sigh, exasperated, letting yourself sink into the sofa.

“Stone? How did a human man turn to stone?” ever the help, your aunt exclaims.

A dramatic exhale you feel like you’ve been holding onto “I left my potion cabinet open and he- and he has a spare key” you sob- all your fault for letting your guard down, all your fault for letting yourself care for him so mindlessly.

“He got into it thinking they were all fake, I tried to- to stop him” a siffle stops you “he was trying to be funny” a string of sobs followed, unable to speak any longer.

“You need to pull yourself together,” Hilda says, amidst your inconsolable sobs “you know how to reverse this” her voice is stern, yet shaky, she feels for you, having to let your love go.

“The mirror” you mumble.

“That’s right, get a mirror- circle of reflection, circle of protection” she reminds you “repeat those words, he’ll be okay, dear” you can tell that she is hurting, breaking the law of your coven, making you face consequences you haven't even thought of.

Would you be losing your power? Would you have to move away from him? In hindsight that would be a blessing, as you doubt he would want to stay, now that your secret is uncovered.

Hilda hangs up the phone as you scramble to get a mirror, and smear salt over his heart. Trying to reverse the spell that might have broken it.

The mirror faces your boyfriend, his features grey and scared- the last time you’ll ever see him in this lifetime.

Circle of reflection, circle of protection

The hand that is not holding the mirror is clutched on tightly to his chest, as you keep repeating the words.

The sound of rubble breaking makes your heart wrench, selfishly wanting him to stay a statue for a little longer, so you won’t have to say goodbye to him just yet, but the stone armor sheds, and his eyes are brown instead of dull and grey, and his arms move, as well as his mouth, closing in itself, breathing as if he’s come to life for the first time.

He rubs his eyes first, drowsy, like waking up from a one- hundred year old slumber. He looks around the room, it’s familiar to him, the smell of incense that was there, and then it wasn’t, blocked by the earthy smell of rubble and earth.

“What happened?” he mumbles, shaking his stiff limbs, kicking the broken suit of stone armor at his feet, your hand still on his heart “Witchy?”

His eyes are blown wide, memories of what had happened an hour before coming to the surface. The same panicked look adorns his face.

“The potion- it wasn’t” he begins, as you move your hand off of his body, much to your heart’s dismay. You shake your head.

“It wasn’t fake. None of them are fake” you mutter, staring at the floor, not even daring to look at him. There’s a quiet tension, an almost awkward silence, charged with pain and heartbreak, as Eddie realizes what you mean by ‘not fake.’

“And you brought me back from whatever I turned into” he breathes.

You just nod, head fixated on the floorboards and the rubble surrounding his feet.

“Does that make you-” he gulps. Can’t even bring himself to say it.

“A witch” you mumble under your breath “a real one,” your gaze falls on his eyes, dilated and sad, as his eyebrows curve up, a line forming on the bridge of his nose.

There’s once again an unsettling quiet between you two, as he tries to wrap his head around the news.

His chest feels hollow, where your hand had been just moments before, an unrecognizable phantom pressing down on his heart, rubbing salt in a gashing wound, hoping it would ameliorate it, only to make it bleed more.

He takes a few steps back, watching his step over the rubble, breaking his silence after what feels like hours.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” it’s a mere mumble, but the question was clear, hurt, and a little scared, maybe.

“I swore under oath that I would keep it a secret” you purse your lips, taking a step forward. Your heart shatters when he takes a step back.

His chest is stilled, breath caught in his throat, hands at his sides as he scoffs.

“You swore you’d keep it a secret? Is that why you’ve been so jumpy lately? You knew I was bound to find out and you didn’t tell me?” his head is reeling, betrayal cuts through him like a knife as more and more of looking at you twists the dagger in his chest.

“I didn’t want you to find out, Ed. I promised to my coven-”

“Your coven? There’s more of you?” you can’t do anything else but swallow on the knot in your throat, scratching and engorging with every word that comes out of Eddie’s mouth, and nod.

“And you let me drink the potion, God knows what it could have been” he trembles, a shaky breath escapes him.

“I tried to stop you, Eddie!” you reach for him, hanging on the feeble hope he’ll realize that you have never meant to hurt him in the first place.

“And- and what if you spelled me, huh? What if you spelled me to make me fall in love with you? Is my love for you not real?” that hurt you more than anything else he could have said, tears brimming your eyes, escaping from their confinement as they streak down your cheeks.

“I’ve never used my magic on you,” you admit, voice thick with salty tears “my love for you is real, as yours is. I never tampered with your heart, it’s not who I am” bottom lip jutted out and trembling, feeling on the teetering edge of the end.

“I don’t know who you are” a stab to the heart would have hurt less. “You’ve been lying to me for the past year about who you are. No wonder I was so in love with you, you made me fall in love with a person that doesn’t exist, you spelled me!” he’s trembling, you can see it in the way that his fists are balled up– something he does to stabilize himself whenever he’s upset.

And now he’s upset because of you.

“Eddie–” you take a step forward, he takes a step back.

“No. Don’t- don’t come closer.” tears well at the bottom of your lash line, as you watch him turn away, leave and close the door behind him. Words trapped at the bottom of your throat. Words you’ll never get to say again.

You’re not sure how long you stand there, staring at the doorknob, hoping that it might turn, revealing Eddie once again, ready for you to explain everything to him.

But the doorknob doesn’t turn, the door doesn’t open, and Eddie doesn’t come back.

You refuse to sweep the rubble from the last time he was in your apartment, hoping that the smell of him stuck to the cold stone, but there’s nothing left of him in your space.

The thing about love witches is that when the thing most precious to them, their hearts, break, the life force of their power fades.

So within a short span of days, you notice yourself being weakened. Simple spells become a hard feat, as you can barely make things levitate, sitting in the darkness of your room.

Days begin to merge into themselves, as you get yourself to work, then home, then work, then home. A repeating cycle you don’t intend to stop. You leave around the back side of the store, to not let Eddie see you while he’s on his smoke break, blending into the crowded streets of what once seemed like the best place in the world.

Your aunt Hilda doesn’t hear from you, and neither does anyone else. You fall off the face of the earth, hoping that your hours never coincide with Eddie’s.

But you can feel it from next door, the pain and hurt that radiates from the record store. You feel it in the way he speaks to customers, in the way he sighs as he gets off his smoke break.

You hear him ask Janice about you, she tells him that she doesn’t know, that she hasn’t seen you in a while. Respecting your wishes to let him live his life in peace.

But he wasn’t living his life in peace. In fact, Eddie was miserable.

He was miserable in the way that everything reminded him of you, in the way that if he stepped too close to your store (to make sure you were working that day), he’d smell the rose incense you’d light at your house. The one he would smell on your clothes.

The crystals that sat on his windowsill were now tightly packed and shoved away on a far up shelf that he would not be reminded of you. He burned every trace of you, the taste of betrayal bitter in his throat as he sat on his couch every night, always on the left side, because you sat on the right. A place for you was always carved in his mind, whether it was unconscious or intentional.

The smell of your shampoo lingers in the pink bottles in his shower, in the silk pillow you always slept on when you went over to his house. A silk shirt you left on his bed, gingerly placed on his pillow as he lets your smell engulf him. That’s the only way he can sleep.

There’s a fear deeply setting in, that he might just never be able to get over you. Despite the lies and the secrets, he will never be able to not think about you, not when the smell of rose incense or the color pink exist, not when long skirts and crystals and tarot cards and brocade rugs exist. Not when you exist. Not when you keep walking the earth, sadness seeping in every crevice and every crack of his walls.

He knows he can’t go on like this. Not while you roam the same streets he roams, waiting for you to turn around. Look at me, witchy, look at me.

And you’re so sad. He can see it in your eyes, in the way you don’t carry yourself like you used to– shoulders slouched, dressed in black like you’re mourning the loss of your heart. Mourning the loss of your love.

He debates going back to Hawkins for a bit. Going back to live with his uncle– leave this new world behind, just until the air has been purified of you. Until he’s no longer thinking about the witchy girl who haunts his dreams at night. Go work where his friend Steve works at, shitty, dead- end job, just for a bit.

Confine himself to the life of a hermit, just so he can allow you to live in peace.

So he goes back to Hawkins, under the guise of going home for the holidays. He picks up whatever jobs his uncle can’t do anymore because of his age, driving the beat up yellow pick- up truck in and out of town.

“I never thought I’d see the day Munson would come crawling back” he’d hear a couple of people say on the street. He’s never gone unnoticed, but now more so than before– integrated in the San Francisco scene, he did anything but blend in. And he swears he sees you a few times, walking around downtown Hawkins, your hair, your clothes, your bag. Prancing around like your life is back to normal.

Could it have been a spell? Did you spell him to not make him forget about you?

But he knows it isn’t like you. Not malicious, not even as a witch, he assumes.

He keeps himself up at night thinking about you. You’d never use magic on him. With a sound mind, he tells himself that’s true. Your love for him is real. Is his love for you real? Shivering in the freezing temperature of his uncle’s trailer he’d ponder whether what you had was real or not.

Real.

He drives himself crazy, the thought of you plaguing his mind.

Even his uncle grows worried, the purple bags under his nephew’s eyes, all the books on witchcraft Eddie could find at the Hawkins local library sitting on his desk. Staying up to read on anything and everything that could help him.

And when that doesn’t work he goes on his uncle’s shitty wifi he never uses to research anything about witches, about magic, about you.

You don’t sense him anymore. Not through the walls, not in his sardonic laugh. It’s like he’d vanished into thin air.

You find yourself stepping into the record store after a shift, asking his shitty coworkers what happened to Eddie.

And you’re so weak. So tired, it is even a feat to be able to make it through one full shift standing up, finding a stool to sit on. You’ve paled, eyes dark and lifeless.

“He’s gone back home for the holidays” one of the assholes who made fun of you says “left you stranded here all by yourself? Or did he kick you to the curb?” he smirks, and the other idiot laughs. You make a mental note to hex them for good next time.

If you don’t die first.

Eddie comes back to San Francisco after the holidays, and it’s like he’s never left.

Union Square has taken off the tree and the ice skating rink– he wanted to take you there. He thought you’d be good at ice skating. You’re good at everything. Or maybe it’s because you’re magic.

The restaurant you went to on your first date has closed down. There’s a smile creeping on his face as he remembers you laughing because he couldn’t eat with chopsticks. He misses hearing you laugh. He misses seeing you smile.

The tiny twinkle, the stars in your eyes. The way he’d braid your hair at night. Petting Circe, nestled in between you two in your bed.

He sees you for the first time since he’s been back on the porch of your shop. His heart shrinks at the sight of you. Eyes sunken in, buried in layers and layers of woolen fabric, staring blankly at the street in front of you.

The thing about love witches is that when the thing most precious to them, their hearts, break, the life force of their power fades.

He remembers reading that in an old looking book during the holidays. He wrote it down in his notebook.

A love witch. Thrives on being loved and being in love.

Her heart is only safe when her love is true and unfettered.

He sees it now.

He shows up to your house after talking himself into it for a week, with the excuse of returning a shirt. The same silk shirt he’d been sleeping on top of since he left you. He had it washed for you. It doesn’t smell like you anymore.

He knocks. Is it him or are his hands always that sweaty? Is his heart beating at a normal pace? Is his hair okay? And his breath? Oh shit, he has a zit on his chin.

“Go away Aunt Hilda!” he hears you say, grumpy and grouchy. The veiled sadness in your voice creates a rift between him and the door.

So he knocks. Again. And Again.

“Aunt Hilda I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, I don’t want– Eddie” A breath gets trapped in your diaphragm, feeling your heart start picking up its pace for the first time in what felt like weeks.

“Hi” he gives you a tight smile, the silk balled up in a fist, purple with little black swirls on it.

“Hi, um, I– what are you doing here? Do you wanna come in?” you slither like a worm, that’s how you feel. The boy you’ve been pining and crying and suffering for is here. Right in front of you.

You look so much more frail than he’d remembered “I uh–” he holds up the fabric “you left this at my house”

“Oh, thanks. That’s sweet of you” Your heart drops, you really thought he was going to make amends with you?

You extend your arm, so he can give the shirt to you. So he can be on his way and be gone forever.

Hands, fingers, knuckles. He misses holding your hand.

“I heard you went home for the holidays, how was that?” you lean on the doorframe, hands crossed on your chest.

“It was good, I just spent it with my uncle. He told me to tell you happy new year, uh— even though we’re not—” he shouldn’t have said the last part, he sees you sink into yourself, gazing down at the hardwood floor. His stomach twists.

“What did you do for the holidays?” he asks. He doesn’t want it to be over, not yet.

“I just stayed in, I’ve been pretty sick lately, flu season in full swing. I’ve just been—”

“Your heart’s broken, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been so sick?” your heart drops. How does he know all this?

He reads your puzzled expression “I um— did some research. That’s what I did most of my holidays. I just wanted to understand. I know you didn’t spell me, or whatever. You’re a love witch” he takes out a piece of paper, highlighted is a sentence, in light pink.

Her heart is only safe when her love is true and unfettered.

Your head is reeling, he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. He spent his holidays researching you, your kind. He knows you didn’t lie to him.

Tears begin to spill onto the old parchment, the tears you haven’t shed in the past two months resurfacing, as you violently jerk and sob in front of him. You missed him.

Eddie quickly steps into your apartment and closes the door, enveloping you in a hug. And it feels good for your heart, a soothing balm for all the cracks and wounds it’s suffered.

“It’s okay, witchy, you can let it out” he says, as you continue to sob on his shoulder. Soft shushing sounds as he caresses your hair “Shhh…shhh… I’ve got you” and it’s like he’s never left.

“I’m here now, I’m not leaving” his assurance makes your body feel whole again. He sits you both down on the couch.

“Witchy, I didn’t stop thinking about you for a second. I would see you everywhere, I thought I was going crazy” he begins, and maybe he sees a twinkle in your eye, something weak, almost like a heartbeat being revived.

“I thought going to Hawkins, just to distance myself would change things. But I’d keep myself awake thinking about you, all the time, wondering if you were doing okay.” His hand brushes yours, as you wipe your tears with the sleeve of your sweater.

“I would see you at work, or out and about and you looked so sad. And I just couldn’t explain to myself what happened to you, until I came across that book” he finishes.

And in turn, you don’t say anything, you just kiss him. It’s wet and messy with the tears and the saliva, but he immediately kisses you back, cradling your face in his hand. Your heart beats faster than it has in a while, and it’s like magically, your skin has a bit more color to it.

And Eddie sees the stars in your eyes again.

When you detach you just lay your head on his chest. You listen for his heartbeat, lulling you into a deep sleep, the best sleep you’ve had in two months. He follows you not soon after, Circe on his lap, as he falls into slumber with a peaceful smile on his face.

Once awoken from your sleep, you go make a cup of tea for the both of you.

“Witchy?” your head lifts at the nickname as you pour him his tea.

“So, are you a witch, a mage or a sorceress?”

You just roll your eyes and kiss him again.

a word about my taglist- if you ask to be put on it, and went through the trouble of filling out the form, all i ask in return is that you interact with my stuff in a meaningful way. plain likes really don't get you anywhere on here, and i am asking you in the nicest possible way. tysm <3 taglist form here

taglist: @onegirlmanytales, @sunnythevampireslayer, @cryingglightningg, @yunirgo, @reidsbtch, @neville-is-my-husband, @minorlystuck13, @keikoraven, @capricornrisingsstuff, @lavendermunson, @mandyjo8719, @str4ngergirlw0rld, @xxhellfirebunnyxx, @hellfirenacht, @seexyyprincess, @goosterroose, @euphoric-rush, @everheart12, @witchwolflea @corrodedcoffincumslut, @aaasbrutus, @stqrgirl3 @starrthemushroom, @lemme-slytherin-that-dick, @fictionalsimping, @tpwkkami11, @1paire2vans @xquinn-bartonx, @bimbobaggins69, @aphrogeneias, @jamdoughnutmagician, @reysorigins, @strangereads, @strangerstilinski, @upsidedownbunnyy, @eddiesxangel, @hideoutside, @ali-r3n,

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x witchy!reader #modern!eddie x witchy!reader #modern!eddie munson #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #eddie munson au #eddie munson angst

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intricatedemonicrituals · 1 year

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Canon Destiel Timeline Masterpost

I wrote this all in a fugue state while listening to Green Grow the Lilacs on repeat so forgive any mistakes. @gay-fae ask and ye shall receive

So much has happened in the long and storied history of his fandom so I've decided to try to document it. I've started by looking up every time that canon destiel, destiel event, misha collins, jackles, or some other search terms have spiked on Google and cross referenced them with tumblr or twitter posts from that day. I know a lot of this is Misha stuff, but he does tend to be the one to say things

November 5th, 2020: Season 15, Episode 18 "Despair" airs and Castiel declares his love to Dean. The presidential election, Georgia turning blue, the presumed retirement of Vladamir Putin, Dabi from My Hero Academia, Ouran Host Club season 2, Sherlock season 5, the president of Bolivia being attacked with dynamite, ongoing BLM protests, a twitter artist making racist art of Ted Bundy, Hetalia returning, a dead man being elected Representative for North Dakota, V for Vendetta, scientists discovering a "hell" planet that rains rocks and has lava oceans, and half of Europe being in lockdown all became tumblr news around the same time. Some of these are true, some not.

November 8th, 2020: Misha Collins, in a panel with Richard Speight, states that the confession scene was a "declaration of homosexual love", and that when Castiel goes to the Empty, it is an example of the "Kill your gays" trope.

November 19th, 2020: The finale airs and it is not well loved to say the least. The episode is short, Dean dies by falling on a nail to death fighting vampire clowns, and there are several characters left with dangling unresolved plot threads and arcs, including Castiel. The car is in heaven though. There is very little heard from the cast and crew, if anything.

November 22nd, 2020: Misha Collins, in a livestream, tells a fan that Castiel and Jack are remaking heaven together, Cas has his wings back, and they are rainbow-colored. He had, however, mentioned the rainbow wings before.

November 24th, 2020: The Spanish dub of the confession is released and a "rogue" translator has written "Y yo a ti" or "I love you too" as Dean's response. Destiel goes canon in Spanish. Tumblr stops working as a result.

November 25th, 2020: tumblr user @thebloggerbloggerfun claims Jensen Ackles said "I had a member of the film crew record the confession scene on my phone for me" #unsourced #releasethetapes

November 26th, 2020: Misha doesn't appreciate the rogue translator, but walks that opinion back later the same day

November 27th, 2020: A "leaked" Italian dub of the confession scene shows a mutual confession.

November 28th, 2020: President Obama follows a destiel account on Twitter

November 30th, 2020: The supposed "Italian dub" is revealed as a fake created by user @iotiamo using sound clips from other parts of the Italian dub on show.

December 1st, 2020: Twitter user @mothdean says "misha I know you have a stan acc and spy on us so can we have a hazel update please"

December 3rd, 2020: Misha tweets about Hazel snoring and this is taken as possible confirmation of Misha's secret stan account

December 11th, 2020: A script from Cas's perspective leaks. It says "We see Cass's POV of Dean again - his face drawn, drained of hope. But still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester."

December 16th, 2020: Newsweek runs an article about an article that Misha wrote about the Lewinsky affair while interning in the Clinton White House in which Misha comes off as rather thirsty for Bill

December 20th, 2020: All Supernatural related materials disappear off the CW's website due to a copyright dispute with Warner Brothers

December 31st, 2020: Mishapocalypse redux

February 9th, 2021: Spn cast members Chad Lindberg and Samantha Ferris tweet about a party at the Roadhouse and it grows to become a full Destiel wedding

February 16th, 2021: @steveyockey made a fairly benign post about Jensen Ackles. The notes went wild in a variety of ways and started a rumor that Spn writer Steve Yockey was dead

February 20th, 2021: Steve Yockey is not dead and he should say it

March 3rd, 2021: The German dub drops and it is also romantic in tone

March 6-8th, 2021: A virtual con happens where Jensen discusses Chaos Machine and Jared says he wants to be in their next project. They also show that WAP video. Jensen is giving full mountain man preparing to play Soldier Boy.

March 10th, 2021: The French dub is released. Cas says, "I love you, Dean" and Dean now responds, "Don't do this to me, Castiel"

March 13th, 2021: The company Amazon tweets about Castiel and Misha Collins asks if they ship Deancas or Wincest. Subsequently apologizes.

March 16th, 2021: Misha says he can't speak as Castiel because Warner Brothers" specifically forbade it. #cwsniperconfirmed

March 17th, 2021: Sam and Eileen are getting married! I have no idea how this came about but I'm happy for them

March 23rd, 2021: Chad Lindberg and Samantha Ferris claim on Twitter that the Roadhouse party was about Valentine's day and not a wedding. Ferris specifically said that she worked on the show and that people tried to make Dean/Cas into "something that it wasn't", She also stated she doesn't "know what queerbaiting is" and that it was due to an "agenda". This led to #deanisbi trending on Twitter and Tumblr.

March 31st, 2021: Some possibly fake leaked scripts come up for sale on eBay. Also, Jensen is Batman.

April 1st, 2021: Mishapocalypse redux

April 6th, 2021: Leaked scripts from the 2 final episodes pop up and have several mentions of Cas in them that were omitted. Dean even thinks about Cas's confession when confronting Chuck.

April 18th, 2021: Scripts from seasons 12 and 13 leak. These include scenes from after Cas's death

May 17th, 2021: Jensen's band Radio Company releases an album including the song Watching Over Me

June ~5th, 2021: Misha says at a convention that Watching Over Me is about Castiel. Jensen neither confirms nor denies this when asked about it

June 11th, 2021: It is announced that Misha is publishing a book of poetry

June 18th, 2021: The Russian dub airs and Dean's line is changed to "Don't you dare, Cas"

June 24-28th, 2021: Jensen and Daneel Ackles reveal that they are making a Supernatural prequel series following John and Mary Winchester (a story that NOBODY was asking for). Jensen will reprise his role as Dean and will narrate. Misha hints that he would like to be involved, as do Ruthie Connell, Samantha Ferris, Matt Cohen, and Julie McNiven (the perils of having a cast of mostly immortal characters). But Jared Padalecki first says that he is happy for the Ackles's, he later said he was "gutted", then responded to Robbie Thompson's tweet calling him a "coward" and saying "what an awful thing you've done". The next day, Jensen and Jared both do damage control and say they'll always be brothers

July 17th, 2021: People are asking if Destiel will be canon in Space Jam, Misha's poetry book's cover is revealed to lukewarm reviews and people are talking about a particular poem about piss, and Perfume Genius releases an article that is a self-insert vore fanfiction about having sex with Jensen Ackles

August 2nd, 2021: Perfume Genius is at it again with "Last Friday, I had my eyes removed by Jared Padalecki". No, I do not know why she is doing this.

August 9th, 2021: Destiel fics hit 100k on Ao3. Misha tweets his support and people remember that he sometimes reads fanfiction and theorize he has an A03 account

September 1st, 2021: Misha makes his first Tiktok. There is a short intro before he calls cut, walks behind a screen, and strips his clothes off

September 3rd, 2021: Jake Abel uses Michael and Adam to help sell his hot sauce brand

September 4th, 2021: Misha confirms that the love between Castiel and Dean was "reciprocated"

September 9th, 2021: A clip of the real Italian dub of the confession scene goes viral as it is revealed that, unlike the Spanish dub, they change the line to "ti voglio bene" or essentially "I love you like family". Misha responds with a video saying "Ciao Italia, ti amo" with the subtitle "Love is love in any language"

September 21st, 2021: Misha drops the fact that one of his poems is from Castiel's perspective.

September 30th, 2021: Jensen will be appearing at a con on the same day as Misha and not with Jared for "professional reasons"

October 4th, 2021: Misha responds to a fan's tweet by saying that Jensen has "crazy eyes and a knife in his pocket"

October 10th, 2021: Daneel posts a picture of Jensen intently reading Misha's poetry book in front of a roaring fire on Instagram. Misha responds that he misses them even more

October 12th, 2021: Jensen is cast in Rust, a (rather ill-fated) western and Misha says "Yippie-ki-yay" and calls him a stud in the comments

October 16th, 2021: Denvercon. Jensen and Jared reunite for the first time since THE INCIDENT

April 24th, 2022: Misha Collins says in terms of being an extrovert, an introvert, or a bisexual, he joked "I'm all three". This led to the internet celebrating Misha's newly revealed bisexuality.

April 25th, 2022: Misha Collins comes out as straight. Oops!

June 19th, 2022: According to Misha, Dean's heaven was supposed to be at the Roadhouse with all his friends and Cas was going to be there with him

November 7th, 2022: Misha calls Elon Musk a snowflake

November 12th, 2022: Tumblr starts planning another Mishapocalypse

January 24th, 2023: Jensen and the cast of the Winchesters throw Dean Winchester a birthday party, including wearing silly little hats

February 26th, 2023: At JIBcon 11, Jensen sings an improvised song about an angel while Misha sits cross-legged on the floor looking up at him

April 1st, 2023: 10 year anniversary of the Mishapocalypse

April 16th, 2023: A year after his bisexual whoopsie daisy, Misha says that Warner Brothers asked him to "let it go" and keep pretending to be bisexual.

August 23, 2023: Rogue Spanish translator is revealed to not have gone rogue at all but instead to have followed the script he was given, confirming the existence of a mutual love confession that was cut at some point.

If you can remember any events and dates that I haven't found, please let me know and I'll add them! I haven't really rounded out 2022 and 2023 yet.

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belovedhoon · 21 days

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belovedhoon's 2024 halloween spooktacular masterpost

hey y'all! here is my master post for my halloween spooktacular! i have decided to come out with a new halloween/spooky themed fic for every week of october! send an ask to be added to the taglist!! (Must have ages in bio)<3

due to the fact that most (if not all) of these fics contain dark content i'm asking that MDNI (you shouldn't be on my blog at all tbh)

taglist: @hmusunoo , @st1llm0nster , @lonelybutterflytae , @multifictionx

details below the cut >>>>>>

10/03/24

monster

fandom: nct dream pairing: franken monster! jaemin x fem drs daughter! reader wc: tba contains: angst, mentions of death, mentions of abuse, fluff (for some sections) synopsis: y/n knew that her dad johnny was a doctor and sometimes his scientific experiments were a little outlandish but she never would have expected her father to be hiding such a dark secret. how was she to know that her own father was doing freakish horrible experiments on the dead, that he had brought one of the dead to life? what will she do when she finds said ‘experiment’ in the locked basement her father demanded she never enter? will she freak out or will she help him when he calls out to her?

10/10/24

prey or pray?

fandom: riize pairing: demon! Wonbin x witch fem! reader wc: tba contains: angst, mentions of death, suicidal thoughts, murder, smut, fluff (at the end) synopsis: y/n has heard whispers about the capability of summoning the descendant of lucifer himself and bounding him to themself to do their deeds. when y/n hears these rumors she runs with the possibility. why does she need to summon him to do her deeds? why to get revenge on those who murdered her beloved shotaro of course. they must pay and y/n will do whatever it takes to get that revenge even if she does have to deal with a moody demon who seems to hate her guts.

10/17/24

come closer

fandom: ateez pairing: pirate! hongjoong x fem siren! reader wc: tba contains: dark content, angst, murder, character death, no happy ending (sorry) synopsis: hongjoong is a fearless captain of the sea who preys on anyone he can to get what he wants, no matter how innocent they are. some would call him evil, most wouldn’t even dare to even think about talking ill of him for fear of what he would do to them. hongjoong takes and takes and takes without any regard for human life or any life for that matter. what will he do when he’s out to sea and hears a beautifully majestic tune? he gravitates towards it of course he can’t help but be allured by the beautiful woman calling out to him…surely she can’t be bad if she sings so beautifully right? hongjoong makes the incorrect assumption that she is a harmless mermaid that he can force to do his will, but oh how wrong he is. what happens when the predator becomes the prey?

10/24/24

masked secrets

fandom: tomorrow x together pairing: yeonjun x fem ghostface! reader wc: tba contains: dark topics, murder, gore, angst, smut synopsis: when murders started popping up quickly around campus, everyone was terrified to go to class, let alone leave their dorms. who could be responsible for these heinous killings and why? no one can be trusted in yeonjun’s eyes except for his best friend y/n, i mean why wouldn’t he trust her? she was so shy and reserved…there’s no way she could do something like this…right?…right…?

10/31/24

blood moon

fandom: enhypen and &team pairing: vampire prince! sunghoon x human princess f! reader x werewolf prince! nicholas wc: tba contains: (slight angst in some parts), mentions of war, fluff, smut, happy ending (finally) synopsis: sunghoon, y/n, and nicholas have been best friends ever since they were young children. they met in the prestige school for royals, decelis academy. they grew up knowing that they were fated together, that they were going to be the ones to end the war between the vampire, werewolf, and human races. they were told that when the blood moon came about in the sky they were to marry and complete a ritual to produce an heir so that this could put a stop to the wars raging on in front of their very eyes. they knew this, of course, they’ve always known this however they never would have imagined it being so soon after they graduated from decelis academy.

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emilykaldwen · 2 months

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You're The Lighting of the Blaze | One Shot | Jacaerys x Helaena

(moodboard by @vampire-exgirlfriend)

Title: You're the Lighting of the Blaze Ship: Jacaerys x Helaena WC: 6,484 Rating: Explicit Summary: On the eve of war, all that Jacaerys holds dear is poised to be stolen from him. But the fire flows through him just as the rest of his family, and a dragon does not surrender his treasure so easily.

(Jace x Helaena Betrothal AU)

Notes: This was my entry for last year's big bang, and in honor of tonight's finale, I'm finally posting it to tumblr. I've been seeing my Jacelaena stuff get some traction, and I'll definitely be writing more of them (and I'm totally open to suggestions to percolate). They are a featured side pairing in my main fic as well.

Tumblr Masterpost | AO3 Link

When I first saw you / The end was soon To Bethlehem, it slouched / And then, must've caught a good look at you Give your heart and soul to charity 'Cause the rest of you / The best of you Honey, belongs to me

Helaena’s hips rolled up against Jacaerys’ mouth and the sigh that escaped her was soft, a murmur crossing her lips like a prayer in the sept. He couldn’t quite understand her words, but looking up from his comfortable spot between her thighs, he could see the furrow of her brow. Whatever caused her eyes to dance beneath her lids was distressing, at odds with the way her body bowed against his touch.

“Hush,” he consoled against the soft skin of her pale thigh thrown over his shoulder. Helaena moaned and he swiped his thumb lazily over the slick gathering against her. A gentle swipe over that bundle of nerves that made her tremble even in the sleepy dream that held her. “You’re safe now.”

Helaena’s head tossed against the pillow and she wriggled her ass into the bed. A smile caught along Jace’s mouth, the proud smirk that spoke to his pride and satisfaction. He nuzzled his nose into her, bumping up against her clit, and pressed his mouth to her skin. “Lykiri,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over her as Helaena’s hips jerked at the attention.

She fell apart soon after that, with his fingers pressed inside of her against that spot he found that made her keen and cry in her wakefulness. In sleep it shudders her out of the dream, finally, and her mouth parted in a wordless cry that dares to have them found out. He crawled up her body and pressed his face between her breasts and the thin fabric of her nightgown kept his mouth from tasting the salt of her skin.

Helaena’s fingers rose to dive into his tangled curls and held him close. “The crow flies,” she murmured. “The crow dies.” A yawn, the haze of sleep clouding her lavender eyes. Jace turned to rest his chin on her sternum and watched her for a moment.

“Worried?” he whispered, and Helaena squirmed beneath him, tugging on his dark brown curls until he crawled up the rest of the way. His princess tasted herself off his mouth, the kiss otherwise chaste and full of sleepy softness.

“We’ll be caught one day,” she replied in the same hushed tone, and his mouth swallowed her words, pressing his hips against the apex of her thighs and encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. Jace relaxed at the feel of her against the front of his breeks, where he was half hard.

“Nothing will happen.” The promise in his voice was true. So what if they were caught. They were betrothed and would be married soon. No matter how much Queen Alicent dragged her feet, he knew Helaena had her gown fitting the moon before. His mother had even casually mentioned the idea of him and Helaena moving to Dragonstone after the wedding.

“You should be able to enjoy the flush of new marriage with privacy and not under the scrutiny of the entire court,” she’d teased. It had been a cool day, the sun warm and the sky endless. She’d pulled the pair of them into her office, a cloistered room overlooking the main courtyard outside of the Holdfast and the main gate of the keep - the Dragon Pit a great focal point in the distance. Helaena had been curled up in the window seat with a stack of letters his mother had given the pair of them to work through. The workings of the realm were all in little baskets between this office and Lord Tyland in the Hand’s Tower.

The thunderous look on his mother’s face at the mere suggestion of Otto Hightower entering the Red Keep once more had kept that nomination from going through.

Dragonstone was his mother’s seat, but she stayed within the capital, refusing to give an inch, sitting on the council where she belonged. It would be his seat one day, and he found that he thought constantly about the great stone table carved with all the land of Westeros. He thought of running his fingers through the rivers and over the mountains, thought of how his grandsire took him before the Iron Throne and told him “This will be yours one day, lad.”

He thought of the hollow eyes of his uncles and his bride, of the wan, feral look on Queen Alicent’s face.

The words “such Strong boys” lingered in his mind, and Jace thought of scarred Ser Harwin, Lord of Harrenhal. The fire had stolen the life of his father, the Lord Lyonel, but Harwin had endured. No longer the champion of the Realm’s Delight, Lord Strong lived a quiet life in a crumbling castle on the edge of the great God’s Eye with his younger sister, whose favor Aegon wore tied around his wrist. He wrote Jace ravens from time to time asking how his training was going, and telling him how proud he is. He cannot come back to King’s Landing, not when Jace has grown tall and broad, with dark curls and a way with a sword.

That is saying nothing for the way that Luke and Joffrey’s hair had grown in dark as mahogany, righteous curls on Jace and Luke’s head, and Joffrey’s pin straight with their mother’s features staring out from his mischievous, sprite-like features.

Jace startled at the sensation of Helaena’s warm fingers ghosting across his eyes. It drew a smile just as it drew him from his thoughts and she hummed.

“Would you give it to me if you could?” she asked with a soft moan, and he could feel her soaking into the front of his breeks. He pressed further into her as if there was no barrier between them. “Turn the line to that of women as you have no sisters?” Jace thinks of his cousins and thinks of the almost future where they had wondered about betrothing him to Baela instead to keep Corlys Velaryon appeased, and he wonders had Baela and Rhaena had been his sisters, if he would be wed to one of them without hesitation. If he had sisters instead of the brothers he loved, would he have lost Helaena, like the fragments of a dream upon waking.

He thinks about the gentleness of Daemon with his daughters, thinks of how warmly he smiles at his mother when no one is looking, and knows that they are waiting for the crown to perch upon her head. They’ll be his sisters one day, but too late to change destiny.

“I would,” he murmured, and sucked a mark against her jaw where she cannot hide it, where it will be there like a beacon for all to see; that Helaena Targaryen is his, and he will be king and none would take it away. “I will.”

An uncertain edge permeated the Landing when Queen Alicent left by wheelhouse toward Oldtown, Vhagar in the sky above her as Aemond provided the first escort. Aegon disappeared for two weeks after that to Harrenhal before returning, lighter than his usual melancholy allowed, and he rolled his eyes at them as he headed to the dragonpit.

Helaena was to go with him.

“It is a celebration for the Hightowers and it’s been so long since we’ve seen Daeron,” Helaena said. Tension curled in Jace’s gut at the idea of being parted from her, and he remembered her words about the death of crows before she wrapped her arms around him and he sank into the taste of her and the candied lemon she’d eaten that morning.

“I didn’t get to taste you this morning.” She grinned, all bright teeth and a sharp, feral edge in her lavender eyes. Jace snorted and knocked his cheek against her. He would take her in the alcove beneath the stairs if there was enough time. His mother had forbidden him from providing escort, anxiety over the King’s declining health drawing those worried furrows to her brow.

“It’s not safe for you in Oldtown, Jace. Stay here, where it’s safe.”

Yet he must let her go. But she is a Hightower just as she is a Targaryen, and there she should be safe.

“What is it? Two days on Dreamfyre? When you feel reckless, just come back. Or better, Vermax and I shall meet you in the mountains and we’ll just stay there.” He nipped at her mouth, cupped her soft cheeks in his rough hands and tilted her head back for another kiss. “Dreamfyre would love to roost in the mountains, wouldn’t she?”

Helaena’s laughter echoed off the red stone of the courtyard before he swallowed the sound down to keep in his chest where his heart beats in time with hers.

The King died a fortnight later.

Jace watched as his mother sat upon the Iron Throne. It was an ugly chair, a twisted metal monstrosity forged from his ancestor’s conquest. His mother wore her hair as Visenya was said to have worn hers: an intricately woven braid along the top of her head woven with black and crimson ribbon and silver Valyrian runic charms. Her gown was red silk, long draped sleeves that fell about her like water and cut to reveal the black underdress, the tight sleeves a shock of obsidian against the blood red. The tail of her braid hung over her shoulder and down to her waist and Jace remembered sitting in her lap as a boy to play with her hair, her own fingers tender in his curls. He could not imagine doing such a thing if his mother had portrayed the vision that she did now. There was a hardened look in her violet eyes, and outside of the tender rim of red that showed her grief, she was, in every sense of the word, Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of her Name.

The crown looked heavy, Jace thought. His mother deserved a sunburst, she deserved to drip in jewels. She did not need such a clumsy, heavy thing to weigh her down when she flew through the sky with such joy.

Joy that was absent from her face as news of Oldtown closing their gates and sending ravens was relayed. Lord Beesbury’s voice echoed in the cold quiet of the chamber, cold fear and heated anger curling along Jace’s spine. This was to be expected - that Aegon would be pitted against his mother no matter how much he did not want this.

“We’ll need to draw them out,” Daemon’s voice echoed, Dark Sister held naked in front of him, the wedding ring that matched his mother’s glinting in the light streaking through the window. “Treason cannot be tolerated.”

“I would welcome my dear brothers and sweet sister back into my arms,” his mother said, so beautiful and queenly. “We must not frighten them, nor give them any further reason to listen to the poison that’s being fed them.” Her gaze, like Valyrian steel, cut to Jace. “You are to stay here.”

All eyes swiveled to Jace. Daemon smirked at him. Luke raised his eyebrows.

“Of course, your Grace,” Jace replied, and his mother held his gaze before Daemon spoke again.

He mounted Vermax in the dark of the moonless night.

Oldtown had closed their gates, but no matter how they forgot, a dragon does not tolerate that which is theirs being taken.

The Grande Festival in Oldtown was an ancient affair, dating back to before the conquest, when the Hightowers ruled as kings in their own right. It was the sort of event Jace had heard about in passing. The grand carnival in Oldtown had been a tradition even before the landing of the conquerors. The city was decked out in banners, not just the flapping viridescent banners of House Hightower, of which there were plenty. There were colorful streamers and fabrics twisting across every lane and thoroughfare, the sky littered with falling colored papers and flowers from people standing with great baskets out their windows above. Music and the scents of foods filled the air; the crisp sweet tartness of apples and cinnamon pies, the currants and spice of mincemeat tarts mingled with roasting boars and stag carved there on the streetside. Beef sloughing off the spit with spices from Dorne were just as mouth watering as the array of pastries beside them, and if Jace had been there for any other purpose, he would’ve gladly indulged.

Tonight, his indulgence was in quarries that were far more dangerous, and far more rewarding.

Jace adjusted his mask, ensuring that it was secure around his head. The other masks he saw ranged from the simple fabric domino cuts that simply covered the eyes to full face paper with hanging beads. As he approached the heart of the festivities they became more elaborate: headdresses of iridescent feathers around ornate full faces with silver inlays and gold leaves.

The raven mask he wore was one that should pass notice. His curls were braided back with a gold ribbon, and the material was smooth on his face, made with fine, soft feathers and an abbreviated beak that did not get in the way like the plague masks and other bird beaked visages did. It covered his full face with only his bright lavender eyes circled with grease paint looking out. Jace had his own ruff of raven feathers surrounding him, but was far less ostentatious than many of the masks around him. The great fan of feathers that others sported wouldn’t serve him when he was trying to get close to his princess.

His dragon mate.

Helaena stood in the great square in front of the High Tower, beneath the fluttering banners of her mother’s house and the flapping Targaryen banners. Lanterns were strung across the place like great fireflies and colored light streamed out from the wrought iron and glass window of the tower behind her.

Like a dream, she was cloaked in silks of lapis and gold, her silver hair turned molten in the light. Her mask was more paint than physical creation; blue and silver and gold paints decorated her smooth skin in the visage of butterfly wings and delicately spun fabric to emulate more wings were affixed to a tiara. She sparkled as a star would, leading him as if he were a traveler lost in the wilderness.

While he knew where he was going, Helaena was the one who looked lost. Her beautiful costume could not hide the frozen, remote look on her face, nor the way her large, lavender eyes danced around the crowds, flinching as her mother touched her shoulder. Jace’s eyes narrowed behind his mask, seeing Alicent as Helaena’s jailor rather than someone tender.

For so long, Jace had thought of Alicent Hightower as simply The Queen. Remote and icy, her beautiful face with perpetually narrowed eyes watching him, taking in his dark curls, the set of his jaw, the very non-Targaryen features he displayed that he knew could not be explained away by his grandmother Rhaenys’ Baratheon heritage, that everyone else seemed to ignore. She stood on the dias beside her daughter, swathed in mourning black of a widow, her gown lined in gold and green trim, her black lace veil worn over her features in lieu of a celebration mask.

He wondered if she were truly mournful and Jace knew in his chest he would not begrudge her joy at being freed from his grandfather. The man had doted on him, doted on his siblings, but the years gave weight to age and opened his eyes, and he could see the wrongness of it all. He saw the cruel negligence to his wife, he saw the way he dangled carrots of affection to his own mother, his chosen heir, and then turned around and denounced the discord that his actions sowed. Jace had vowed to never treat Helaena the way Viserys treated his wife. He would never treat his children the way that he saw how his mother was treated.

It was insidious, and something that took Jace far too long to realize and understand - that his grandfather did not see his mother, not unlike the way he passed over his other children; an old man falling deeper into his dreams, of his longing for a woman who died brutally in the birthing bed. It was the ghost of his long passed grandmother that kept Rhaenyra Targaryen at the edges of her father’s graces. To witness his mother claw as fiercely as Alicent Hightower clawed for just a scrap of attention from the dying king was enough to make Jace consider regicide, not to mention kinslaying. The senselessness of it all made his stomach curl and when he thought of putting Helaena through the same, his vision would go red and his stomach would heave.

He would do better, as he always did, as he always had to do. Even as he felt compassion for the woman, there would be no forgiveness for her hand in the strife.

Nor would there be forgiveness for how she hoarded his bride away from him, as if the death of one king meant she could do what she pleased.

Helaena was his bride, and he was her groom. They would be together, they would fly their dragons together, and share their bed every night. Helaena would be his queen one day, ruling by his side in all the ways that she deserved, and they would heal what had been broken and fractured, torn apart by his grandfather’s negligence, picked over by his mother and the former queen in their long simmering resentments

He would never forgive Alicent Hightower for trying to take Helaena away, to marry her to Aegon and attempt to put the crown on his head.

Oh, this wasn’t a coronation, not yet. First, there needed to be ravens sent and alliances made and barely a week had passed since the king’s death. It wasn’t even enough time to get a raven north to Winterfell, let alone alliances. Not with the suddenness of the King's demise. But everyone knew what was coming.

While Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen sat the iron throne, swathed in her grief, she had not yet been publicly crowned. Not with the mourning of the old king and the rituals being followed. Even as the small council addressed her as their liege lord, the position was tenuous and some kind of truce needed to be made.

A heavy hand clapping his shoulder made him start and Jace turned to look into the face of Aegon Targaryen.

His uncle looked utterly miserable. Aegon’s eyes were bloodshot, his round face flushed beneath the golden mask of dragon scales. Of course, there was no doubt that he would wear the golden visage of his beloved dragon.

“Found you,” he murmured, the lightest slur to his wine soaked breath. “Truly fascinating, nephew, that you escaped your mother’s skirts and came here of all places.” Lilac eyes flicked towards the dias. “Definitely not to rescue me.” Wine sloshed over the edge of the goblet he held as he took a heavy swallow of it. His thick fingers tightened on Jace’s shoulder.

“Not sure I know what you’re talking about, my lord,” he said, pitching his voice to try and disguise it, and a peel of laughter, edged with mania, fell from Aegon’s mouth, sputtering wine as if Jace had said the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“You are pathetic,” he said. Which was utterly rich coming from his uncle, though he was barely any older. Aegon was a feral thing, a tom cat who prowled and refused to be kept down, yet a wet thing, desperate for affection. “The way you look at my dear sister can’t be hidden by that.” Aegon lifted his goblet to tap the mask’s raven beak. “Not to mention your terrible posture.” A clap on the back this time. Jace gritted his teeth.

“I am the prince of the realm now, uncle,” Jace hissed in reply. He refused to extract himself from Aegon’s hold as if he were retreating. “The future king of Westeros. I’m sure you’re most relieved about that.”

Aegon’s grin was sharp; manic and gleeful and sad all at once. “Aye,” he murmured, leaning in. “That you are. I should challenge you to a duel-” he paused, burping in his face, and Jace suppressed a sigh. “Make my mother happy.”

He’d never admit it to Aegon, but he understood the sentiment, even when their own mothers were as different as green and black.

“Tell me, is that what you desire? Or will beating me in a duel - if you even could - hold favor for long enough?” It was a low blow, and Aegon’s eyes narrowed even as the smirk turned cruel and sad across his face. “Or would you simply call your second? I’m sure Aemond would take more joy in it.”

Jace suppressed his shudder even as he said it. Aemond would find more joy in it, and Jace knew he likely wouldn’t get out of that with just an eye lost. His gaze instinctively roamed their surroundings as Aegon drank, looking out for the sight of Aemond Targaryen. There was no flash of his long, silver hair, or the familiar straight line of his shoulders. He wondered if the festivities might be too much for him. Helaena struggled with crowds herself, and Aemond struggled with them for his own reasons after losing his eye.

The event of it all still curdled in his belly, but there was nothing to be helped now.

“Vicious little brat, aren’t you?” Aegon snorted, mouth a bitter twist.

Jace breathed in through his nose, feeling the tingling in his hands, just aching to wrap them around his uncle’s throat to shut up his stupid mouth. His lavender eyes found the vision of Helaena once more and he exhaled slowly.

“You don’t want this,” he told Aegon with conviction, teeth gritted and turning to get him to face him head on. “You don’t, and she doesn’t. Don’t do this for me. Do it for you, or her, since I know you care for her too.” Fuck, it would be so easy to push him into the alley and end him. But while Aegon was an even match, it would simply make things worse.

Besides, Jace had no desire to be a kinslayer, cursed and haunted.

Aegon’s head cocked, mouth pursed in a mimic of his mother, and he looked towards the dais, eyes tracking up to the fluttering banners. “What brother steals his sister’s birthright?” Aegon muttered, eyes tracking back to Jace’s. Red rimmed and lined with tension, Jace knew Aegon didn’t desire this; he desired other things, like forbidden nymphs frolicking in rivers.

“What brother indeed.” His mother knew this was not Aegon’s doing, but it didn’t mean that boys didn’t present a problem - alternatives to her rule.

But that was an issue for another day. Right now, he needed to get to that which he was being denied. He’d take it with fire and blood, if he had to. Jace would just prefer not to.

Aegon shook his head and shoved him back slightly. “You fucking owe me, you little prick.” Something eased in Jace’s chest, the knot that had been building as he waited. Whatever Aegon was meant to do, Jace would have his opportunity.

He watched, wide eyed, as Aegon sloshed into the fountain with a whoop, drawing the attention of the party goers, and began precariously climbing the statue in the middle - an elaborate mime of the Seven, and Aegon was… gripping the breasts of The Mother as he hauled himself up towards the seven pointed star above them.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jace muttered, caught between horror and amusement and let the crowd surge around him as Aegon called for attention. Which meant no one was looking at the dais.

“Friends and countrymen!” Aegon hollered out, his voice echoing off the sunbaked brick and stone of the courtyard. People cheered in response. “As the wine flows and tits come out-” Ribald laughter rippled through the crowd and Jace tuned out the flaxen haired buffoon and started making his way towards the edge of the festivities, searching for a way to get sight unseen towards the back of the platform where Helaena still stood, also focused on the spectacle her brother was making.

Alicent Hightower had turned to hiss at Ser Criston and a few of the Hightower guards that gathered around her. What danger could there be in this stronghold, for Jace noticed a distinct lack of protection now along the back edge; the back edge where Helaena lingered, melting further into the banners and curtains lining the platform. He recognized that look and it made his heart ache. His belly roiled with anger. She looked trapped, she looked like she wanted to run, but in an unfamiliar place, was unsure where to go. Jace knew she could handle herself, but when it came to crowds, and lights, when it came to all of this? Every instinct in him screamed to go up there, to hold her slim, warm hand in his and twine their fingers; a firm hold, and one that couldn’t be torn away.

Raucous laughter and applause echoed from where Aegon was on the fountain and Jace watched Ser Criston and the other guards make their way into the crowd. Queen Alicent stood at the front of the dais, hands clasped against her waist.

When he turned to look for Helaena again, she was gone.

He blinked.

“Helaena?” he whispered harshly, reaching up to remove his mask but pausing before he could. “Fucking thing,” he muttered, trying to look around and see if he could spot the glimmering blue and gold and silver of his betrothed. “Ābrazyyrys, skoriot ilā?” The Valyrian flowed more easily from his mouth than it had before. Helaena made studying… fun.

He wished they were back in bed, her mouth on him while she made him practice reciting the prophecies of Daenys the Dreamer.

“Vasīr ābrazyyrys ikson daor,” came a smooth voice, the words like a song, a dream. The scent of lemon wafted around him and he felt a warm hand stroking up his spine. “Don’t turn around.” Her voice was soft and commanding all the same and it made a shiver roll through his body, heat and arousal, excitement and nerves. “Did you come all this way just to find me, ñuha jorrāelagon?” Her mouth brushed against his shoulder. Her fingers curled nervously - he knew it was nervously by how tightly she clung - into his tunic. “I dreamed you.”

“I don’t know the word for bride,” he apologized, voice in a rush, breathless. His heart was thudding in his ears. “I’ve dreamed of you too. But we have to go.” A yearning edge to his voice and he tilted his head back to the sky as if praying for the opportunity to do it. Helaena’s arms moved to wind around his waist from behind, and she pressed her face between his shoulder blades. His hands came to rest over hers in a soothing motion, but as much as he wanted to wind in her embrace - “We have to get out of here.”

“I know, I dreamed this, I just told you.” He felt her rubbing her face against his back and Jace wondered if the paint on her face would streak across his shirt.

“Come on, this way. If they find me here, I don’t think Aegon will be able to make another distraction to keep your mother from demanding my head on sight.” Jace reluctantly loosened her arms and finally turned in her embrace. Helaena tilted her head back and her lavender eyes were luminous in the night, the lantern light reflecting like fireflies in her gaze. She reached up to run her fingers along his mask, smiling softly at the touch of feathers, the curve of the beak and he wished he could rest his head against hers, to kiss her as he longed to.

“Do you have wings that sprout from your back?” she asked. He snorted and shook his head at her, letting the feathers tickle her face and they needed to go but she giggled at the way they tickled her and it was worth it. “How could anyone think you are a raven when you are so clearly a dragon?” She wondered softly, her eyes, just as light and lavender as his.

“They whisper about it and I hate it. How easily they dismiss me and force me to declare who I am,” he’d railed to her, tears at the corners of his eyes, pain in his chest. By sight, who would see him and think him a Targaryen? How easily he was looked over, how easily ignored– unlike his uncles, unlike Helaena, unlike his own mother.

Helaena’s hands had been warm on his face and she gazed at him, unblinking. Her eyes were the same shade as his own, and far more beautiful, he thought, with her hair like moonlight.

“How could anyone look at you and think you are anything but?” she asked. “When I see myself in you? Dragons both.”

“No, Vermax is off waiting.” Her fingers were tugging at the tie that held the mask to his head and he reached up to grab her fingers. “Once we leave,” he said but he couldn’t hide the longing in his voice.

She sighed and kissed his beak. “This way. I scouted it out a fortnight ago.”

“Of course you did,” he laughed, and with another glance at the commotion, he let his bride pull him through the crowd, none paying all that much attention to them. He supposed that if her mother turned and found her gone, she would think Helaena had fled into the High Tower. There was no reason to think that she was running away, cutting down a narrow alley and over the canal bridge.

“Dreamfyre is waiting,” she told him as they ducked into a little space between buildings, barely big enough for the both of them. It hid them with a perfect view of the little gate, a lone guard looking as if he’d rather be anywhere but there. Jace didn’t see any sign of the Hightower emblem upon his armor. No, he wore the emblem of the city watch, and he was young, which meant he’d picked the short straw on the evening’s rotation.

“What do you mean, Dreamfyre is waiting? Ah, right, you dreamed this,” he chuckled softly, and preened when she reached up to stroke his beak again. She tutted at him and looked about, pressing her hand against his chest.

“Umbagon, Jacaerys,” she ordered in that voice she used to command Dreamfyre. It made him shudder and his toes curl in his boots, his cock twitching in anticipation from what that voice usually meant. ‘How well she had him trained,’ he thought.

His violet eyes tracked her as she strode across the alley, the silver curls flowing down her back catching the light like starshine. Jace’s eyes narrowed when the guard perked up, the smile on his face meaning one thing, but then it faltered, his eyes widening at whatever she was saying to him. Jace had been prepared for this to be so much harder. Seven Hells, he’d been prepared to fight, prepared to draw blade and blood to get her out, to get them away.

Here he was, watching her back while Helaena had sent the guard scurrying away, holding onto his helmet as he was sent rushing further away from the party. She turned, a glowing thing in the torchlight, and beckoned him over. Laughter escaped him as he pulled the mask off, his curls catching a bit along the edges. He was finally able to see her with clear vision and he couldn’t help but indulge, grasping her by the back of the neck to pull her in for a proper kiss. Helaena laughed into his mouth, fingers cupping his cheeks as he tasted her, crowding her against the wall. They had to leave, he couldn’t get caught. It would be death if they were caught, but in the few moments they had, he would take them.

“Ao rystas,” he murmured, grinning.

Helaena beamed. “Ao rystas,” she returned the greeting and the sound of Dreamfyre’s call echoed across the hills outside the city, drawing both their gazes. “Hope Vermax can keep up,” she chuckled and together, they ran into the night.

His princess had surprised him by pulling a rucksack from beneath some bushes when they had hit the field, reminding him that she had dreamt of fleeing, and had prepared to. “I thought it would just be me,” she had explained as they flew over the sleeping, dark expanse of the Reach. “I dreamt that a raven came with news that would let me fly away.” She had kept a feather that had fallen from his mask in her hands, running her fingers over the inky blue-back edges of it. “I like it when those dreams come true.”

Vermax could keep up without a rider, although Jace couldn’t tell if it was because Dreamfyre was slowing down enough so they wouldn’t lose him, or if his weight really slowed his sweet boy down that much. It was one of her eggs that Vermax had come from, their bond strong as his and Helaena’s had grown.

In the beginning, Jace kept looking over his shoulder for the great bulk of Vhagar on their tails - for if anyone would be sent after them, it would be Aemond. Aemond who loathed the attention that Helaena bestowed on Jace. Aemond who loathed their betrothal. Aemond who did his mother’s bidding without question.

Jace wondered at that, for he knew it well. He wished nothing more than to make his mother proud. He wished for nothing more than to be a worthy successor to the throne, to be the King that the realm deserved. He had seen it in Aemond’s eyes when it came to Aegon, and he’d seen it when Aemond pinned him with a glare, swinging his sword against Ser Criston in the training yard.

Sometimes he wished he could tell Aemond that he could have it. He could have the lessons and the pressure, he could have the burden of legacy, the burden of his tarnished and whispered parentage on his own shoulders. Jace would give it up… he would give it up if it meant, in the end, he could still have Helaena, the two of them and their dragons living on the wind.

Aemond hungered in the way a dragon hungered for meat, for flesh, for everything. He couldn’t blame him. Jace thought he might feel that way as well, if he were in Aemond’s position. He wondered if Luke would feel that way some day. If his own brother would grow more angry and serious, chafing at the bonds of being the second son.

They needed only to rest once, ducking beneath the cloud cover to nestle in the forests that lined the borders of the Reach and the Crownlands. Vermax kept close, tired from flying so far back and forth. They watched him prowl through the forest, coming back with the corpse of a doe and licking his jaws over the bulk of it.

“I think he brought it to feed us,” Helaena murmured, her cheek rubbing against his shoulder. Dreamfyre had already found her meal, several cows in the field nearby. Jace turned his head to nose against the crown of her silver head. She smelled like the sky. She smelled like the promise of rain and the musky scent of dragon, and still beneath, the bright scent of lemons clung to her hair.

“He’s been a good boy, flying as swiftly as he did.” His fingers plucked at the lacing of her gown and Helaena shifted, turning so he could get his other hand there to work at her gown. “He knew how hungry I was for you.”

Her pale skin glowed, barely illuminated by the tiny fire they dared to foster before them. The silk fluttered around her waist and he drew her into his lap. “Now you let me have you?” She grinned at him, impish and serene all at once. Helaena drew a moan from him as her fingers dove into his hair, tugging enough for him to feel it shoot straight to his cock as she tilted her head back. “For I am hungry too.”

They woke hours later, half dressed and tangled into one another. The fire died down but Vermax had come over in the passing of the night to curl his warm bulk against Jace’s back and keep the chill at bay. Helaena was already awake, staring up at the blanket of stars in the sky, her fingers stroking absently over his brow.

“We need to beat the dawn, for it shall burn away the shadows.”

With aching bones, Jace climbed up Dreamfyre, who let out a low grumble, and Helaena spoke to her in soothing, musical Valyrian, as if coaxing the dragon from her own dreams. Vermax was complaining like a child, but promptly quieted in response to Dreamfyre’s warning huff.

“We’re almost home, Dreamfyre,” Helaena reassured, and they took off into the sea of stars, racing to beat the dawn.

Hours passed, and Dreamfyre ducked beneath the clouds. The first thing that Jace registered is Vermax’s eager cry of joy and the responding sounds of dragon calls.

Dreamfyre let out her own call, and in the distance Jace could see two small dragons shoot up from seemingly nowhere.

It was Dragonstone, the black rock shooting up from the ocean and cutting through the early morning fog, the sun a blazing eye at the horizon. It was their ancestral seat, his ancestral seat, and they approached the shores, a dreamer and a someday king. Dragonstone, where he would take Helaena to the rocks and make her his wife, his future queen. Surrounded by the expanse of the Blackwater and the Narrow Sea, by dragons and by himself alone, Dragonstone was where he would keep her safe.

He would be a good prince, a good king, a good husband, and a better father. Jace pressed his mouth to the pulse in her throat and his arms tightened around her waist, fingers splayed possessively against her belly and he pulled her closer to him to keep her warm.

Her head turned, the wind pulling at her braids. Her smile was brighter than he’d ever seen and her eyes, his eyes, their eyes, met his. She was his hope, she was his future, she was his star chart coursing the way home across the seas.

“Welcome home, my dragon princess,” he murmured and she brushed her mouth against his, breathed in his exhale.

“Welcome home, my dragon prince.”

Vermax and Dreamfyre roared to greet the dawn.

I still am totally in love with this story and I hope you enjoyed it! I would absolutely love to hear what you think! If you want more Jacelaena, you can catch them in my Aegon x OC series The Maiden and the Drowning Boy, as well as some drabbles under my Jacelaena tag!

If you enjoyed this story, please reblog and spread the love!

#hotd fic #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #prince jacaerys #helaena targaryen #hotd helaena #jacelaena #jacaerys x helaena #jace x helaena #jacaerys fanfiction #helaena fanfic #my fics #hotd tag

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nellasbookplanet · 8 months

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Book recommendation masterpost

As my list of rec posts grows, I figured it might be time to write a masterpost that I can continuously update and link back to.

Some notes on how I structure my lists: I generally try to stick to adult and young adult titles (with a mention in the synopsis if it's a YA), however on occasion I will include a middle grade if I need to fill out the list or if it’s a little known or especially good book I want to highlight. The lists are a mix of already pretty well-known titles (sometimes a book is famous for a reason, okay) and lesser known names, as long as they fit the theme and were an enjoyable read. I do try to make the lists diverse, but I will not include a book simply for diversity's sake - this is a subjective project, and if I didn’t enjoy a book it will get booted to honorary mentions even if the main character is gay.

Many books will appear on multiple lists as it covers multiple themes. In some cases, a title that got featured on one list might end up only on the honorary mentions of another. Honorary mentions books are generally titles I didn’t super care for personally, but sometimes I will feel they are still a good example of some particular theme and include them in the main list. I mark my favorite books and do try to mention when an included book had notable flaws, however, the lists are not reviews. I try to keep the synopses brief, and do not consistently include things like personal opinions or content warnings. If a title sounds interesting to you, I recommend still looking into it on your own if you need content warnings. I do sometimes write reviews on my Goodreads, but my rec lists are merely rec lists.

Without further ado, here is the list so far:

Really cool fantasy worldbuilding

Really cool sci-fi worldbuilding

Dark sapphic romances

Mermaid books

Vampire books

Many worlds: portal fantasies

Many worlds: alternate timelines

Robots and artificial intelligences

Post- and transhumanism

Alien intelligences

Queer science fiction part 1, part 2

Possession/bodysnatching

Evil fungi

Black science fiction

Queer fantasy part 1

Fairy books

Space books part 1

Queer horror part 1

Werewolf books

Angel books

#nella talks books

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copias-sewer-rat · 11 months

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COPIA'S SEWER RAT RECOMMENDATIONS PT.1

This has been a long time comming! I wanted to take the time to create a long post not only with fic recommendations but also other stuff. The Ghost community is so talented that I needed time to gather all of the amazing projects and ideas that flutter around.

(This even took longer than anticipated because just when it was almost ready some of the authors in this list posted some freaking MASTERPIECES and I needed to add them as well, obviously.)

I plan to do a post like this from time to time with new discoveries, so please if you don't follow/know these creators, please check them out. Furthermore, if there is someone you think I have missed or that you would like for me to check out, please, let me know. I am always eager to know more amazing creators.

(please be aware that some of the fics and artists I will be talking about write some very nasty, yet amazing, stories/art so please always check their tags and tws before diving in).

next part | my masterpost

📝WRITING

Let's start with one of the backbones of this amazing community: @da-rulah and her gorgeous and deliciously nasty fics. Please go read Rituale Septem and Confessional if you haven't already. Her hcs and drabbles are also so so good, you should read everything she has written, you won't be dissapointed.

Now, the wonderful, amazing writer that is @her-satanic-wiles. I have become her personal and most ardent supporter this October (if you could not tell by how much I have reblogged and liked her stuff smh). Her Kinktober challenge this year has been an absolute delight so I leave you with her mastrerlist so you can check her out on your own.

Now, my beloved, the amazing writer that is @writingjourney with my favourite fic to date I Knew Nothing but Shadows. I honestly get such joy when she posts, it is pure perfection. She puts such detail in her writing that it always makes me so incredibly happy to read her stuff. I also leave you with her masterlist, please check her out! UPDATE: SHE JUST POSTED THE MOST PERFECT VAMPIRE SECONDO FIC, you must read it: Friday Nights at the Vinothek.

The great @bupia is next!!!! I honestly adore everything they write. My personal favs are Barista Preferita, Love Letter, Bloodlust, their kinktober series and their new work is Serendipity. I am always in awe with how they write honestly. I want to be y/n so much with their fics (lol, cringe). Please read everything of theirs!

How can I not mention the absolute, amazingly talented, cowboy lover that is @ramblingoak ??? Her whole universe of cowboys (I love cowboys like yeehaw all day you know?) is honestly one of my favs, AND THE WAY SHE WRITES, let me tell you, the DETAILS, the EMOTIONAL backstories, THE ROMANCE, THE DRAMA?! Please go read The Cardinal's Bride and the other stories of the same au if you haven't done so already. You are missing out on one of the best AUs this fandom has to offer. UPDATE: A NEW FIC?! SKATING COPIA?! TIGHT SUITS?! Need I say anything else? Go read her new series: Copia on ICE!

Then, @molly-ghuleh !! I just started reading her stuff and now I cannot stop?! Camellia is SO GOOD you must read it!! It deserves much more attention!!! THE DETAILS?? The love at first sight trope leaving me in shambles???!!! I am seriously invested and I cannot recommend her more! GO! NOW!

Next, my lovely ghestie @discountdemonwarehouse/@eyeslikelilith who is so funny and so so nasty😈💜! Please go follow her here and on Ao3 for her amazing fics (I love her WWDITSxGhost fic What We Do In The Ministry the most hehehehe iykyk)

@leezlelatch and her amazing drabbles bring me so much joy, please go check her out and read everthing she posts, it is wonderful and insanely entertaining. (I cannot choose only one recommendation help, read everything!!!)

What can I say about @earthry other that she is amazing and I that I am obsessed with her drabbles and asks? I have read Watermelon Kisses so many times that you could lock me up.

Go check @zombie-rott out in general! Her stories are very comforting and nice!!! AND THE WAY SHE WRITES??? I love love love it. I highly recomend reading Pawprints, it is adorable, you should ckeck it out.

Please go read @bethbruttenholm's Seduce Me... I fell in love with this fic, so so good, and her writing is *chef's kiss*.

@anamelessfool in general is a master, like, her Omega3 fics are so nice *wink*, extra kudos for Reciprocity muhahahaha (it is delicious)

AAAAAA @gravehags and her curator!reader x copia series??? I AM ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED? THE HALLOWEEN CHAPTER? I WAS GRINNING LIKE A MADWOMAN ALL THE TIME. She also writes a lot about the Ghouls and Ghoulettes and it is SO SO NICE!

@the-curator1 In The Darkness of your Dreams ??? AN ABSOLUTE MASTERPIECE oh my Satan, I LOVE LOVE IT!!!

🎨ART

This list is going to be long and I don't want to sound like a broken record or make this post eternal (because I could talk about all of them for ages if you let me) so I will make only a big recommendation for the following artists:

@vogelfreyh

@piaart

@vanmec

@comfysanda

@nocterish/@nocturnal-birb

@sirlsplayland

@risunsky

@blanchebees

@mardyart

@meowsaidmissy

@forgelokid

@novaiisk

@nekronyancer

@delulluart

@yollur

@quaildoodle

@oranpo

@doodleshrimps

@kabukiaku

@thew0man

@blackbird5154

Please, check all of them. They deserve all the recognition they can get. I adore how much love and effort they put in their art, WIPS or whaterver they decide to make. Every single one of them inspires me so much, I cannot explain with words how proud I feel to be able to look at their creations and share a community or even an interest with such talented creators.

👻OTHERS

This is the one that needs more creators. I need to find projects, creators that do other things such as theorising, gifs, big projects, whatever. Please, give me your suggestions and I will check them out and add them in following entries.

For now, I leave you with a couple of amazing people that deserve all the praise:

@stressghoul I honestly follow her EVERYWHERE. I love her tiktoks so much, she is so funny. The Brittany Brosky of the Ghost community you could say.

@slavghoul If you need any questions solved about our dear Satanic papas, go follow Slav. I have never seen a more dedicated person with such an amazing brain, it is honestly so inpiring to see what they have to say every single time. By the way, also check their videos on all the little isolated parts from Ghost songs, does not fail on lifting my feet from the ground as if possessed, every-single-time. You can check all the videos here.

@kabukiaku again??? YES! WHY?! BECAUSE I ADORE HER PAPA PLUSHIES I THINK THEY ARE THE CUTTEST!!!!

Lastly, I wanted to mention a YouTube creator that is making orchestral versions of Ghost songs. I found an orchrestral version of DATHOML on Tiktok and I had to find the whole song. Please check them out because they are doing more and it is amazing. Jamie Turton.

#gonst #the band ghost #ghost #the band ghost bc #ghost bc band #recommendation post #sewer rat recommends #amazing creators #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #ghost bc #ghost band #papa emeritus iii #papa terzo #papa secondo

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ramblingoak · 9 months

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Naps With Copia

Nap #7: Napping With A Monster

~ Naps With Copia series masterpost ~

For @ghuleh-recs 💙 who wanted a nap with a certain vampire cowboy…

Yeehaw Dracopia x Reader (this nap is technically part of my cowboy/vampire AU The Vampire's Bride but this can be read on its own!)

These are all stand alone chapters so you do not have to read one before the other! This series came from my post about wanting to nap with Copia all around the abbey. The stories will all have gender neutral readers and soft Copia naps.

Warnings: mentions of vampires feeding, slightly suggestive but still sfw, 800 words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

It was strange watching him sleep.

He was completely still except for the slight up and down movement of his chest. Swiss had explained that they don’t need to breathe, but mostly they continued to do so out of habit. Just like how they sometimes ate normal food. It didn’t do anything to sustain them but sometimes they still enjoyed a more…traditional meal.

Sometimes they also did it to blend in.

The old couple that owned the farmhouse seemed oblivious to who they had invited to stay. Only you and Copia were staying in the house though, the Ghouls were staying in the barn. It was a decision that Dewdrop had complained loudly about but one low growl from Copia had shut him up. It was really fascinating to watch how they all interacted with each other and how they respected Copia. It was obvious though that their respect also came with a healthy dose of fear of their leader which did wonders for keeping them all in line.

You turned to look around the sparse room but quickly stopped, hissing when the skin around the bites pulled painfully. He had been on you as soon as the door to the room was closed, pressing you back up against it and mouthing at your neck. Your cheeks heated up at the memory and then at the memory of all the other times he had fed from you so far. You hadn’t expected a vampire’s bite to be so—

“You should get some rest.”

His gravelly voice startled you, his accent a little thicker than normal due to how tired he was. The fight with Mary had taken a lot out of him and even after feeding from you he still needed time to recuperate. You looked down at your hands and shrugged.

“I’m not tired.”

“That’s a lie.” He smirked when you glared at him, your eyes first mesmerized by how bright red his were before trailing down to the blood still staining his mouth. Your blood. “I saw you yawning all through dinner.”

“Shouldn’t someone keep watch?”

“Keep watch from who? The owners don’t seem the type to kill people in their sleep.”

“What if they realize you’re not…people?”

“Then I suppose the Ghouls will have something besides deer and rabbits to feed from.” He held out his hand, the fingers wiggling in the air towards you. “Come here.”

“Are you still hungry?” You were crawling towards him anyway so his answer didn’t really matter but you still wanted to know. “Do you need to feed some more?”

His hands were surprisingly delicate but there was no doubting how strong he was when he easily lifted you up and settled you at his side.

“I always want to feed from you.”

You shivered at his words, ducking your head down to hide your blush from him. He probably already knew how much you enjoyed it. Copia could feel your pulse against his lips and he could hear how fast your heart would start to beat. You hadn’t even protested the last few times, you had willingly given yourself over to him. Offering your neck like it was his anytime he wanted it.

“You can if you need to.” The unspoken ‘if you want to’ was heavy in the air. Copia leaned down, sniffing at your neck at first before running his tongue along the fresh bites. “Please.”

“Such a polite thing you are, even to a monster such as myself.”

You leaned your head back sharply to catch his eyes. There was a smirk on his face that didn’t match his tone but before you could try to question it you yawned, your mouth opening comically wide. He raised an eyebrow as you finished, your jaw even popping loudly when you closed your mouth. It seemed like a silly thing to apologize for but you did it anyway.

“I’m sorry. I-I must be more tired than I thought.”

“Then sleep, we can take a little nap together before night falls.”

You weren’t sure what his plans were when that occurred but currently you were too tired to care. His body was warm thanks to your blood pumping through his veins and you clung to him embarrassingly tight, enjoying the feel of his arms around you. The excitement of the past few days seemed to have finally caught up with you and it was becoming impossible to keep your eyes open.

“Copia?” You waited until you heard his soft ‘hmm?’ before continuing, “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

His chest vibrated under your hand but you were too close to sleep to tell if he was laughing or grunting to acknowledge what you said. You let sleep claim you then, your body going slack against the most dangerous man in the Wild West. It was impossible to say if he was a danger to you but deep down it didn’t matter.

He wasn’t a monster to you anymore.

~ Naps With Copia series masterpost ~

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

#my fics #my writing #naps with copia #copia x reader #cardinal copia x reader #dracopia x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #copia fanfiction #dracopia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfic #copia fanfic #dracopia #yeehaw dracopia

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airenyah · 7 days

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The biggest goal in 2024? I got everything that I want, so... There is no big goal in 2024 at the moment. But maybe, like, looking for another series.

Not Joong saying all this knowing full well that the announcment of him playing a restaurant owner and professional killer rather than a university student was gonna drop only a month later

#also i can't believe i pushed off watching his birthday event until now and completely missing another vampire mention for my masterpost smh #joong archen #adrm #meine grafiken #joonggifmine #joong's bday 2024 #joong events #also i'm glad to hear that joong doesn't wanna play an engineer #bc ngl i don't really wanna have to sit through another engineering bl just for him either skdkdjjfjf #me 🤝 joong

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cyraen-ae · 1 year

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My AdventureQuest OCs

Thallen Varsen ID : 87255359

Aleena Varsen ID : 87772185

Lysandra Chrisanti ID : 87984882

Professor Briar and Sir Dobble The 2nd, Inventing Duo Extaordinaire ID : 88003022

Upcoming Character Sheets (post will be edited as I do them, the characters are still incomplete ingame) Leonas Shieldmane & Vaz'Keff ID : 87816149

Elyrin Robervale ID : 87835772

Maris ID : 87773934

Kamin Wildbreeze ID : 88002652

Dyvea Darkfire ID : 88003012

#AdventureQuest #My OCs #Thallen #Aleena #Lysandera #Briar #Dobble #Leonas #Elyrin #Maris #Kamin #Dyvea #===========================================================================================================================================#I mentioned in my main OC masterpost that most of my OCs outside of the Varsen siblings are aesthetic experiments so #Lysandra is the same as every other appearances of this character : I'm a sucker for vampires and I like the immortal lorekeeper aspect #Briar and Dobble were born when I saw the Moglotron Controller head and I just -had to- make an OC that was a moglin in a mech suit #<= The characters below this point are still in design =>#Leonas was the fact that I really wanted to show a timeline in which Leonas never joined the Rose and remained a Paladin #Elyrin was born from the fact that he's intensely loyal to Swordhaven in his AQW timeline so I wondered how he would react to the Calamity #Maris was me wanting to create a Vartai character because I absolutely adore Vartai and their aesthetics #I don't have enough Z-Tokens to buy a Vartai head just yet however #Kamin was just me wanting to reuse DF Kamin because we have elven heads too #Dyvea was actually inspired by the demon lady we meet in a recent quest and it made me want to make a Demon knight too for the aesthetic #(Also notably I wanted at least one character per Paxia clan so many of them were designed to be more closely attuned to their elements)

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daechwitatamic · 8 months

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Of Ruin: Chapter 10 || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

Section Warnings: injury / a shoulder being popped back in mentioned VERY briefly, language, fire, dangerous situations, tense situations with dangerous vampires wc: 5.2k

It takes you days to recover, and you piece together what happened bit by bit.

The curse had fought back - you’d known that as it was happening. It had climbed into you through the magical connection, like a thing alive, ready to corrupt whatever it touched.

Prince Taehyung, like you, had been paralyzed by the magic at work, had been unable to do anything but watch as your eyes rolled back, as your lungs stopped taking in air, as your heart - that he could always hear loud and clear from rooms away - stuttered and gasped nearly to a stop.

You were mostly gone when Namjoon sprang into action and saved your life. He borrowed, used a death-magic spell he knew to sever the connection.

You’d hit the ground hard enough to dislocate your shoulder, apparently. The King and Queen had wanted to bring you to the Elders for healing, but Taehyung had argued, insisting that it was too risky to bring you through the palace to them, too risky to let them know you were even here.

“I can tend to her,” he’d said hotly, according to Namjoon’s recounting of events. “I can heal as well as any of those ancient dustbags.”

The first time you’d woken, in that luxurious bed, you’d been in Prince Taehyung’s own chambers.

Dansoo had been the one to set your shoulder right, stone-faced and unflinching when you’d screamed at the white-hot pain. In the darkness following that incident, you were sure you felt someone brush their hand over your head, soothing, but when you woke again you were in your own bed, alone again.

For a few days, you’re in and out. You start to stay awake longer, and you start asking questions about what had happened. It’s Namjoon who gives you answers, sitting on a wooden chair a few feet from your bed.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” you grumble. You woke up nearly six hours ago and you don’t feel the heavy darkness lingering at your edges - you think you’ll stay awake, this time.

“I have nothing else to do,” he jokes. “Can’t leave. Can’t take a walk. Can’t even work, since we need to reassess after that last attempt.”

“Has anything new happened with the families?” you ask quietly. You hadn’t told Namjoon what Prince Taehyung had admitted to you in his room - that the accusations were true. You vow to find a good time, when you aren’t likely to be overheard or interrupted.

He waves his head around, indicating sort of. “Satuel says that the Scores haven’t been to the palace since they made the official accusation. The Cleaves have thinned out considerably too, and another family. The Scores also publicly declared that if the royal family didn’t answer to the accusations, they’d be openly inviting further action.”

“Further action,” you parrot, stomach sinking. “Meaning, what? A trial? Violence? Protests?”

“I’m not sure,” Namjoon says, shaking his head. “But things are very tense out there. As soon as you’re well enough, we need to reconvene and decide our next steps. We need to get out of here.”

You hum in mild agreement. Namjoon’s gaze sharpens knowingly.

“I know you might not want to leave… considering everything between you and the prince.”

He says this perfectly evenly, carefully to keep anything accusatory out of his voice.

You don’t answer, trying to keep your face blank. It wasn’t a question, so you don’t have to answer it.

Besides, it sounds like he already knows.

Namjoon shifts, presses his lips together. “We should focus on the curse,” he says finally. “Everything else… there’ll be time for that, after.”

“Not if we die,” you mutter, but there’s no heat behind it.

Namjoon smiles at you wanly, and you wave a hand at him, dismissing your silly thoughts. “Okay,” you cave. “Go get the papers. I can work from bed. Let’s figure out what went wrong.”

—

Prince Taehyung comes to see you that evening.

He smiles big when he sees you sitting up on the couch in the main room. “You’re up?” he asks, though the answer is obvious.

“I think I’ve turned a corner,” you say. “I just feel… kind of weak.”

“Days in bed will do that,” he points out. “In addition to what the magic did. You should walk around the room when you can. I’m sorry that I can’t take you out to the sea… it’s too dangerous. Things are… quite complicated right now.”

“I know,” you say, then wonder if you shouldn’t have.

He grimaces. “You’re safe in your rooms,” he promises. “This will hopefully be over soon. We’re working on it.”

You nod, not sure what you can really add at this point. You’re afraid to say the wrong thing.

He glances at all the papers on your table. “Were you working?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, glad for the change of subject. “We have a few theories about what went wrong, and two more options for countercurses that we can try.”

Prince Taehyung frowns. “I don’t think -”

“We have to try again,” you say, speaking right over him. He looks surprised; probably he doesn’t get interrupted much. “We have no choice.”

“Rest a few more days,” he implores. There’s something in his face, something in his tone, that you don’t want to look at too closely. It makes you think about him pressing your hand to his lips, and you don’t want to think about that.

“Two days,” you say firmly. It’ll give you time to get your strength back, to walk around your rooms until you can do so without needing to sit down. “Two days, and then we need to try again.”

He smiles sideways at you, something sly in it. “I’m not used to being given orders,” he admits.

You’re not sure if you’re meant to be sorry. You’re not.

“Two days,” you repeat. “Then we try again.”

He sighs, seeming to give in. “Is there anything we can do to make it safer?” he asks plaintively, turning to include Namjoon in this missive.

Namjoon shakes his head regretfully. “Unfortunately… not really. Magic is always risky. The death-magic involved in your curse makes it even moreso.”

“We have no choice,” you say firmly. “It has to be done.”

Prince Taehyung looks at you and your breath catches in your throat. It’s mournful. It’s protective. You can read all over him how badly he wants to remove the danger for you.

Like his lips on the back of your hand, you don’t know what it means.

“Alright then,” he says, finally. “In two days. We’ll try again.”

When he leaves, you collapse backwards into the back of the couch, groaning loudly and dramatically.

“Focus on the curse,” Namjoon repeats, although you didn’t ask him.

How can you? How can you when the prince is looking at you like that, like he wants to step between you and every scary thing?

How can you, when you know that once the curse is broken you’ll go back to your mortal, human life - and never see Prince Taehyung again?

That brings a thought that scares you - more than any Infracti ever could. Once, you’d been nervous that you’d struggle to break the curse, that you’d fail to save the prince. Now, you fear that you’ll cure him in no time, go home to your mundane, academic life, and spend the rest of your years wondering what any of this meant - if any of it meant anything.

If there’s anything you hate, it’s unanswered questions.

Sulkily, you tell Namjoon goodnight and head into your rooms. You’re too weak, still, to really practice, but you read spells and try to memorize their purpose until you fall asleep with the book open on your stomach.

—

You awaken to a shout, which becomes a series of shouts. You hear - through the walls - your main door slam and you jolt upright, hands scrambling as you try to orient yourself. You barely have your eyes open when Satuel bursts through your bedroom door, black eyes wide and wild.

“Fire,” she gasps. “Hurry.”

Your body follows directions even as your mind scrambles to catch up. “What?” you utter, as your feet find the cold floor, as they follow her into your main rooms where she hurries to throw open Namjoon’s door as well, calling the same to him.

“Fire, where? Where do we go?”

Satuel herds you and Namjoon like sleepy sheep, pushing you towards the door. “There’s a safe room beneath the palace,” she explains. “You’ll go there, with the royal family. We need to hurry, it’s spreading quickly.”

You have a million questions, and you open your mouth to ask the first one when you catch sight of the dancing shadows at the far end of the corridor. Something is off, something isn’t right.

You look at Satuel, eyes wide.

“It’s -”

“Magic,” she says curtly. “And we’ll fight it with magic, but first we need to get you to the King and Queen in the safe room. Come!”

You start to follow, Namjoon steady beside you, when you freeze. “The King and Queen,” you echo, and Namjoon turns to look at you incredulously, as if he can’t believe you aren’t sprinting to safety right now. “What about Prince Taehyung?”

You can smell it, now - acrid, smarting the inside of your nose.

You don’t move.

Satuel huffs, like she can’t believe you either. “A team is working on getting him to safety, too,” she says roughly, eyes on the flames at the end of the hall. “Now, come, or I’ll let you burn up here, curse-breaker.”

You don’t believe the threat.

“He won’t go,” you say stubbornly. “If the curse is active, all he can think about is hunting, he won’t even know that there’s danger.”

“We’re working on it!” Satuel retorts, and starts walking again, clearly done with your shit. Namjoon shoots you a pleading look and follows.

The corridor has darkened, though you didn’t notice it happening. Your chest feels tight, but you have no urge to cough - the effect of magical flames, not mortals’ fire.

“He wants to hunt,” you repeat emphatically. “If he smells me, he’ll follow.”

“No,” Namjoon says firmly, louder than you’ve ever heard him. “Y/N, we need you, you’re not bait -”

“Send me with a fucking battalion, then,” you snap. “I can do it, I can keep him far enough away that he only follows -”

You’re walking and arguing, Satuel looking like she’s a nanosecond from just grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you out of there.

“I can!” you insist, and then you prove it, throwing your hands at Namjoon’s feet and sending up an invisible wall that sends him stumbling backward. You do it again, and again, advancing on him, sending him skittering away from the magic he can’t see. Then you turn, plaintively, to Satuel.

“Let me help,” you beg. “He’ll follow my scent, I know he will.”

—

There are eight Infracti in front of you, but only one faces you. Seven - including Satuel - stand between you and him, ready to try and hold him back if your magic fails. Ready to herd him into a safe room of his own if you don’t fail.

One thing is immediately, glaringly obvious - being hunted by an Infracti with his senses, as you had in the turret library, is nothing like being hunted by someone with no control.

Prince Taehyung stalks toward you on featherlight feet as you walk backwards, using magic to put up a new invisible wall every few feet. Your legs feel like jelly - you’re still weak from your days in bed - and Satuel supports you from behind, practically holding you up, and steering you around corners as needed.

He doesn’t even look like himself. The way he holds his limbs is animalistic, fractured and robotic by human standards. His face even looks different, cheeks hollow, fangs displayed. And his eyes, for the first time since you arrived, swirl fathomless black. Blacker than ink. Blacker than ravens’ wings. Blacker than death.

Ancient syllables drip from his mouth like the crunching of bones, doubling in volume each time he hits one of your walls and stutters to a stop, mystified and angry that he can’t seem to reach his prey.

“That’s it, steady,” Satuel tells you, low. Your hands shake - from exertion, from adrenaline, from terror, all. But you push them again, sending up another wall.

Satuel steers you around the corner and the prince follows, hunched, scurrying when he can, stopping suddenly when your magic demands it. When he turns the corner and catches sight of you again, he gnashes his teeth at you, fangs first, snarling - more pissed off than hungry by this point.

“I know,” you whisper, watching his black eyes shine with fury. “I know you’re mad.”

He snarls back something guttural as he advances.

Another few steps, another wall. The beast closes the gap, low growls reverberating off the stone walls around him. Another step. Another wall. His eyes never leave yours, his lip curled so far back it must hurt, his fangs shining with spit and venom in the low light of the corridor.

It’s tenuous, because you know how badly this could go if you make one mistake - one misplaced step, one hesitation on your spell-casting. You move carefully, calculating everything.

“We’re just at the door,” Satuel tells you. “You’ll go in, we’ll herd him to the side, then you put up one last wall and run. You have to really run, do you understand?”

“Yeah,” you say, and you make the mistake of glancing back towards her as you do.

You weren’t the only one calculating the rhythm of the spells.

The monster takes your moment of distraction and darts - inhuman speed, nearly a blur, straight towards you.

You don’t think, don’t have time to think. You just react - throwing your hands up, shouting a spell.

No wall flies up to save you.

Instead, he is frozen, mid-stride, one foot still in the air.

Satuel breathes a word behind you; you think it’s an archaic Infracti swear word.

You hold your hands up, focusing on keeping the magic steadily working, focusing on keeping him there. You breathe, adrenaline singing through your body, the only thing holding you up.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. You don’t know if he can even understand you. You know he won’t remember, even if he can.

“Keep him there,” Satuel says sharply, suddenly right behind you. “Can you hold him?”

“Uh-huh,” you grunt, because you can’t articulate much else while you focus on what you’re doing.

Guards move at Satuel’s orders, closing in to take him by the arms. His body follows their guidance as if they’re pushing him through water. You push magic as hard as you can, terrified of what would happen if you stopped. Your hands still shake wildly; your legs feel wobbly beneath you. The guards lead him, one slow step at a time, through the open doorway Satuel had told you was there.

When they have him through the doorway, one guard moves to close the door. As he does, the magic drops from you like water from a pail, slapping to the ground with a splash, leaving emptiness in its place.

You can see, through the narrowing crack of the closing door, that he starts fighting his guards immediately, thrashing, his frenzied growls louder even than they were when he was hunting you.

The door closes.

You sink to your knees.

—

Satuel has to carry you to the safe rooms; you’d feel bad about it if you didn’t know that you weigh practically nothing to her.

She sets you down once you’re inside, though you wobble a little.

“There are rooms here,” she tells you. “I can understand if you’re unable to sleep, but you should at least rest.”

You don’t even want to argue. You’ve never felt so absolutely, down-to-the-bone exhausted in your whole life.

The King and Queen are seated at a long table, drinking something that could be wine, or could be blood-based, from crystal goblets. You don’t look too closely.

The Queen stands as you pass. You keep walking, barely glancing at her. After everything that’s happened here, up to and including the accusations the other court families have been making, you want less and less to do with Prince Taehyung’s parents.

“Thank you,” she says, and it startles you so much that you slip out of your focused disinterest, and you look at her. She continues, “Thank you for putting yourself in danger to save my son.”

You look at her evenly. You’re so tired, crashing after spiking adrenaline, still weak from the failed curse-breaking that tried to kill you.

“I’ve done that every minute that I’ve been here,” you remind her coldly. Then you continue on, towards the dark, quiet room that Satuel has promised you.

—

You’re awakened by Taehyung bellowing. You lay there, eyes still closed, and listen to him yell. For some reason, a smile plays on your face.

You knew he’d be furious about the choice you made.

You do not give a shit.

It occurs to you that he might be yelling at Satuel, and this thought drives you to roll out of the bed and make your way to the main room so you can defend her.

It seems Namjoon was also awakened, because you meet him in the hallway.

“You’re alive, huh?” he mutters, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Takes more than a cursed Infracti to kill me,” you joke.

“Don’t get cocky,” he warns. “Next time might not have the same outcome.”

“You seem sure there’ll be a next time.”

“We’re here, aren’t we?”

As you step into the room, Prince Taehyung wheels around on the two of you.

“And you!” he yells, just continuing whatever line of shouting you’d apparently missed. This seems to be directed at Namjoon more than you, and you inch sideways away from the line of fire.

Prince Taehyung’s eyes, irises white like a human’s, flash with fury, even more than they had last night.

“How could you let her do something so stupid?” he demands.

Namjoon holds up a finger. “I was afraid if I spent longer arguing with her, we’d both burn alive.”

You cough to cover a laugh.

Taehyung isn’t having it. “She could have died,” he says, startlingly quiet after the shouting. “She almost did, from what I hear.”

“I was fine,” you protest, but Namjoon narrows his eyes and puffs his chest.

“At the end of the day, your Highness, she’s my boss. And she’s a powerful witch - more powerful than she realizes. If she tells me she can handle a situation, I believe her. You should, too.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrow, too. “I almost killed her,” he says, even more quiet, like the rattle of a deadly snake. “Is that something any of you were ready to have on your conscience? Because I certainly don’t want it on mine.”

“I was fine!” you try again, louder. “Taehyung, I had it under control! You never got closer than three feet - and if I hadn’t lead you to the safe room -”

“Don’t think I’m ungrateful,” he interrupts, intently. Like he needs you to know. “Of course I am. But next time, God, use someone else as bait.”

“Namjoon next time,” you agree easily, nodding.

Namjoon kicks you in the calf.

You almost go down, legs still mostly jelly.

This is what it takes to break the tension in the room. Prince Taehyung insists you sit, orders Satuel to send for a full breakfast for all of you.

“Please, coffee,” you beg.

Once you’re all sitting and no one is yelling, you manage to get an update from Taehyung about what happened last night.

“There’s no doubt it was an attack,” he admits glumly. “Magical fire doesn’t start on its own, to begin with, and it started simultaneously in three different wings. The guards were fighting it right away, but it took most of the night for them to confirm that no one had gotten into the palace. It seems, for now, that we’re safe.”

“So, now what?” Namjoon asks, leaning forward intently. “Will the Runes retaliate? Press charges?”

Prince Taehyung shrugs, though you think he probably does know. “The cabinet is meeting right now,” he says, which explains why the King and Queen are no longer present. “But I think… yes, action will be taken.”

He takes a breath, then looks at each of you. “Unless… well.. even if I can… but I have to try…”

You seem to have lost him to an argument with himself.

“Maiesti?” you venture. “We don’t… know what you’re talking about.”

He takes another breath, runs a hand over his face, covering it completely for a minute as he collects himself.

“I’m going into Scores’ territory tomorrow,” he says, once he’s uncovered. There’s something steely in his tone, something resolute. “I’ll be gone from dawn to… well , sometime before midnight.”

Your stomach turns; you don’t like the idea of being in the palace without him.

You don’t like the idea of him being out there without you.

He reads your frown.

“I must go,” he says, frowning back at you. “I’d stay if I could, but it’s imperative.”

“No,” you say quickly, waving your hands to stop him in his spiral. “I wasn’t trying to stop you. I just…” You pause, embarrassed. He looks at you with sorrowful brown eyes, and something in your gut kicks you into continuing. “I just feel safer when I know you’re nearby.”

You watch him soften.

“You are safer when I’m nearby,” he murmurs.

“Perhaps,” Satuel says gently, and you jump, having nearly forgotten that she and Namjoon are part of this conversation as well, “the curse-breakers would benefit from visiting the archives in Lucrotio?”

Namjoon lets out a sound like someone grabbed him by the esophagus and squeezed. “The archive of Lucrotio?” he echoes. “We can’t just walk in there, they’re sacred -”

“You can if I say you can,” Prince Taehyung interrupts. He’s got that coolness to his voice again, the one that you’ve noticed shows up when he slips into his royal role, when he’s leaning on his authority. Then, the coldness drops, and he looks at Namjoon closely. “Would it be beneficial to you?”

Namjoon lets out a breath like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Yes,” he says hollowly, turning to look at you to see if you’re on the same page.

You’re not; whatever he knows about these archives, you don’t know - which is unusual.

“The most extensive - and oldest - collection of elemental magic texts in Infracticus,” he tells you, and your eyes widen.

“Oh shit,” you utter, then look quickly at the prince to see if he looks offended. He doesn’t even seem like he noticed. Instead, he seems to be scheming.

“In that case,” he muses, “would you care to join us? You could research at the archives while I handle my business.”

“Yes,” Namjoon says emphatically, nodding strongly. “Yes, I want to go to the archives.”

You bite back a smile; seeing Namjoon get geeky about his field makes you feel very kindred with him.

Prince Taehyung looks uneasy for a minute. “Ah,” he says, a bit awkwardly, like he doesn’t want to ask what he’s about to ask. “The thing is… Y/N… that thing you did - putting up the magical walls? Do you think you could do that again? On demand?”

You look at him, baffled. “Huh?”

He looks almost ashamed. “I was just thinking that… I may be walking into a delicate situation… if you accompanied me as my -” He cuts himself off, suddenly avoiding your gaze.

You narrow your eyes. “As your venefici?”

He smiles sheepishly. “I meant it as a place of honor, at my side. But, yes. However, if researching in the archives will help you with the curse, then by all means - I do not want to take you from that.”

You look at Namjoon. It’s a no-brainer for you - of course you’d rather stay close to the prince’s side, act to protect him if necessary, over being left at the archives with Namjoon, researching a part of the magical process you know the least about.

“No offense,” Namjoon says drolly, “but you won’t be much help to me anyway, Y/N - you don’t know what to look for. But… I don’t want to be left there alone. Could one or two of the palace guards stay with me?”

“Of course,” Prince Taehyung promises eagerly. He looks at you, suddenly boyish in his hopefulness, as he waits for your response.

You feel suddenly shy, especially in the presence of Namjoon and Satuel.

“I’d be honored to stay with you, Maiesti,” you say quietly.

There are many more things you’d want to say, if you were alone. You hope he can hear them, or at least hear their presence, know that they are there.

From the look he gives you, you think he might.

“Very well,” he says. “We’ll leave quite early tomorrow. We’ll return sometime after sundown. For now, shall we escort you back to your own rooms?”

Satuel leads you out the door, and Namjoon follows. You reach out quickly, your fingers snagging on Prince Taehyung’s. He pauses, turning to look at you, clearly surprised.

“Yes?” he asks. “What is it?”

“The last time we were together -”

His face darkens. “Please,” he says, implores, the word leaving his mouth like a plea, “don’t ever do anything that dangerous again. I couldn’t bear it if… if something happened, if I were responsible…”

You brush this aside, unwilling to make any such promise, needing time alone to process those words with that voice.

“Not then, before that,” you correct. “In your rooms, when I was recovering, you said the accusations were true. You said you were trying to fix it.”

He just stares at you, face impassive - almost looking like the cold prince you’d met on your very first day. But your fingers are still tangled with his; neither of you pulled away after you’d grabbed for him.

“Tell me,” you beg. “Please, tell me what’s going on.”

His mouth twists. His fingers tighten on yours for only a second. “It isn’t your problem. This isn’t your land.”

“No,” you agree somewhat reluctantly. “But it does involve my people. And I’m here, now, for who knows how much longer. I’m going through what everyone here is going through. Did I not spend last night escaping from magical fire? I deserve to know. I’m part of this.”

Your voice gets stronger the more you say, until by the end you can feel your hands curled into fists and your face slides into a defensive scowl. At some point, you must have pulled your hand away from his. You don’t remember doing it.

He sighs, looks around; you’ve been around him enough to know he does that when he’s thinking, like the room will give him an answer he likes better than the one he’s facing.

“You are,” he allows finally, his deep voice calm and even. Then, he sighs. “Very well. The short version is… a year ago, I found out what my father was doing. He was essentially buying favors, buying loyalty - from important families who wanted to hunt, who object to the protection laws. Then, atop that, he was working up to framing the Scores for the killing. They were gaining too much favor around court, vague comments about the throne had been made - he felt threatened. This way he could solidify relationships and weaken Score influence at the same time.”

You’re quiet for a minute, processing. “How long was it going on before you found out?”

Prince Taehyung flushes, averts his eyes. “Longer than I’m proud to admit,” he says gruffly.

You reach out and touch the back of his hand tentatively. “And now?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I found out that he didn’t stop. He swore to me it was ending - over a year ago. When I figured it out… I started thinking of how to stop him, for good.”

You wait. You know to wait.

He lets out a breath. “The fastest way - barring murder, and I am above patricide, unfortunately for everyone - would be to remove him from power - to get him to agree to transfer the crown to me earlier than is customary.”

You step back, eyes widening. “Would he? Could that actually happen?”

Taehyung looks at you, something dark swimming across his features. “He might. With the right… persuasion. As I said… I’m working on it.”

You look at him for a minute, taking it in, taking him in.

“Okay,” you nod. “Well… if I can help… I’m smarter than my actions here have implied.”

He smiles at this, appreciating the joke. “I know you are,” he promises. Then he leads you by the hand to follow Satuel and Namjoon back to your quarters.

—

It wasn’t that long ago that Taehyung discovered his father’s dishonesty.

In fact, it had been less than a week before you’d arrived.

He had been buzzing with adrenaline and need - the need to do something, to take action, to make it better now, as if that could undo any of the wrongs that have been tallying up without his knowledge for months on end.

It was too long to wait for the natural transfer of power - another four hundred years, following the Infracti customs. Tradition wrote that he wouldn’t take the crown until the day he turned one thousand years old.

It was clear to Taehyung, as he strode purposefully through the castle, that his father couldn’t be reasoned with, couldn’t be talked into doing the right thing.

Taehyung had no allies, no armies, no knowledge in warfare; a direct attack was out of the question.

He reached his rooms, went straight to his greenhouses. He tried to sit, legs bouncing as his mind whirled and spun. Then, he paced, up and down the worn, dirt path, hands waving as he schemed and thought and argued in his head.

As he paced, an idea began to form, slowly, haltingly. The problem wasn’t just his father, he realized. The problem was also the law, the protection laws written in partnership with humans, that declared that the Infracti crown could only pass down the Rune bloodline - from Sunjae, to Taehyung, to whatever poor soul Taehyung brought into the world, someday.

If this works… he thought, it won’t solve anything right away. It will bring a period of chaos, and maybe even war… years from now. I’ll have time before then to gather forces, to ask for advice, to research… it buys me time, it gives me bargaining power.

Maybe, he thought, this solution isn’t perfect. But it’s better than nothing. It’s better than nothing, and it’ll buy me time and leverage.

With these thoughts spurring him on, he turned and went back the way he came - heading down into the palace depths, down and down, the steps growing colder beneath his feet the further he went.

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thank you so much for reading!!!! i promise this is NOT reader's last/only encounter with what i lovingly call "scuttlebug vamp tae". we are officially in my favorite chapters and there's so much more still to happen! thank you for being here ily guys

144 notes · View notes

railingsofsorrow · 8 months

Note

Hi!! Hope you're doing fine! I was wondering about the one shot “the way I loved you” in the originals masterlist. I'm really curious and I wanted to ask when you plan on posting it?

a/n: I'm glad you asked. this has been sitting on my drafts for a while! happy I can finally post it. hope you like it!

The Way I Love(d) You

[stefan salvatore x reader; kol mikaelson x reader]

[all pictures belong to pinterest]

SONG INSPIRATION » THE WAY I LOVED YOU by taylor swift

summary: stefan salvatore is kind and sensible and you couldn't ask for anything better. but beneath the “you look beautiful tonight” you miss the "screaming and fighting" and the way his name slipped out of your lips at 2a.m. you liked assurance and perfection but you missed insanity. more than anything, you missed the way you loved him. you missed kol mikaelson.

pairings: s.salvatore x f!vampire!reader; k.mikaelson x f!vampire!reader

w.c: 9.4K (I got carried away)

warnings/content: portrayal of healthy and unhealthy relationships dynamic; discussion about life and death; blood (mentioned); non-graphic descriptions of violence; pregnancy (mentioned); slight damon and tyler bashing because they are the most annoying characters ever created; camille o'connell plays therapist; katherine pierce x reader (you blink you miss it); gemini coven (mentioned); discussions about marriage; canon divergence; fluff; happy ending depending on which you're rooting for; paragraphs in italics are flashbacks.

A/N²: this one shot does not follow the tvd + t.o original timeline, so some facts may be out of order.

[part of “the taylor swift anthology”]

navi

masterpost

tvd masterlist

t.o masterlist

[alternate ending]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ he is sensible and so incredible.

and all my single friends are jealous

he says everything I need to hear, and it's like I couldn't ask for anything better. ❞

“Did you arrive alright?”

You reply with a soft hum, distracted by the bag filled with books related to witchcraft. You really did not think you'd be swiped back to this city again, less alone acting as a librarian for the Original vampires for the hundred time in your life. Oh, well. Who could ever deny Rebekah Mikaelson of her wishes? You had been extremely close before, despite the unsaid goodbyes. She did try to threaten your life if you didn't come to New Orleans soon, but those were empty words. And you could easily take her in a fight – not that she could ever know that.

“Yes,” you say through the phone, remembering there was someone in the other line. “I'm settling in on the hotel.”

“Okay.”

“Stefan.” The corner of your mouth twitches slightly. “Say what you want to say.“

You hear him let out a breath as he usually does when he's holding something back.

“Are you sure you don't need me there with you? I could easily—”

“No,” you cut your fiancée off, albeit in a gentle manner. You sit down at the edge of your hotel bed, feeling the rough fabric of the mattress against your jeans as you inspect the cover of a rather thin book compared to the other thick ones scattered around. “Stefan, I'm perfectly fine. You don't have to worry. And I know you won't listen to me and you'll worry either way…” a smug grin stretches on your face when he tries to speak again. “… but I can handle myself, okay? You can call and text and I'll reply right back.”

Ever since you met Stefan Salvatore, he has had your best interest at heart. Not only yours, but everyone he cared about. In the friendship stage, he slowly inserted himself into your life, taking careful steps to not scare your cold heart away to the mountains. You never knew why, somehow, you had some importance to him. When you started dating, he made sure to introduce you to something that by no means you wanted to partake in: safety. Not the kind in which you are suffocated and trapped, but the kind in which you are held by someone and still are able to take a breath of fresh air. The real meaning of safety.

He takes you on dates and he opens up your car door as the perfect gentleman that he is. The line you look beautiful never straying from his compliments. It took you a while to get used to that. Being loved without having to look over your shoulder, being cared for by someone who would truly be there at the end of the day.

Stefan is safe. He is the warm blanket on a cold day with hot chocolate and a good book. He's the guy who never makes you wait while carrying that endearing softness around him. You couldn't ask for anything better.

“Yeah, alright.” He says with a resigned sigh. “You really don't want me there, huh?” The playfulness being drowned out by a tinge of hesitation in his tone that if you didn't know his tells, you might have missed it.

“You know that's not it.” The book is placed on top of the bedside table. Your choice has been made. “But I don't want to draw unnecessary drama into our lives. As soon as I can get this done, I can come back to New York. To you.”

He offers you a sound of contentment. “That sounds nice to me.” There is some ruffling on his end and he lets out a muffled groan. “Hey, beautiful? I have to go. Damon is hijacking our apartment.”

You briefly recall Stefan making a comment that his brother would visit you guys soon. That had been around a month ago? You are never one to question Damon and his stupid decisions. Fortunately, you were far away to deal with any of that.

“I'm sorry,” you mumble without masking your joy for not having to be present in the same room as Damon Salvatore. “Good luck and don't let him mess with my stuff or I'll personally break his neck and set his dick on fire.“

“I heard that!” You reply that it was meant for him to hear. “He's calling you a menace.” Stefan chuckles at your bickering but he eventually has enough. “Call me if you need anything, yeah? Be safe. I love you.”

“I love you too, and I believe you'll need more backup than I will.” You smile at his scoff and the call comes to an end.

You resist the urge to go to Russeau's to enter an alcoholic coma instead of facing the people you haven't spoken to in a decade. No, you have faced worse and what could possibly go wrong while visiting some old friends?

You snatch the book from the bedside table and tuck it under your arm.

Guess it's time to pay a visit to the Mikaelsons.

━━━━━

Meeting the Mikaelsons had been the best and the worst moment of your vampire life. Yes, some people could be both at the same time. You met Rebekah before you met the others, in a ball a really long time ago. The Mikaelson name had yet to be spread around like a disease due to the extreme danger they represented – where you lived, at least. Vampire groupies already had lots of knowledge about them at the time.

The thing was, you had no idea who Rebekah was until almost everyone in your city was murdered. Her brothers searched for her after a few years of radio silence, apparently. That's when you understood how protective family could be. Klaus, most of them. But that one was more obsessive and paranoid than any other. Rebekah told you that herself, but you saw it with your own eyes through the years you tagged along in their journey.

You have to say that out of anyone in that family, Klaus Mikaelson would be the last person you'd expect to become a father.

He was the one responsible for practically destroying Katerina Petrova's life, along with many other people you couldn't care to mention right now. She had been your friend once, before she became a nuisance in your life. But still. Klaus was ruthless and anyone capable of making an enemy out of him realized the bitter poison that came with it; if not death, of course.

Nevertheless, the cruel reputation of the Mikaelson family did not belong to Klaus only. In levels of pent up rage, you could easily mention Elijah. He was nothing but kind to you in the moments you've spent as friends, but you were aware of the demons he kept at bay for most of his existence. The man tries hard to be a good person and, in your opinion, he achieved that in all of the senses, although he was never really one to trust other people's opinions about him, whether they'd be good or bad.

Elijah could be just as cruel as Klaus, but as Klaus was loud in a broadcaster type of way, Elijah was silently dreadful.

Finn and Freya were the last ones you encountered. They were both gentle in their own way. As Freya kept up a mask right after breaking her curse, doubtful and distrusting, Finn was overall distasteful towards his own kind. You noticed that between the countless times he attempted to kill his siblings and himself. At first, you held a grudge over the fact that your boyfriend (back then) could never catch a break from his own brother. But eventually you understood Finn's reasons and everything that was left was sympathy. You had trouble adjusting to the vampire life yourself, mostly the drinking blood part but also the eternal life bit as well. Living and dying was something you had never doubted. It was the cycle of life, after all, why would you question it?

Some days, you didn't want it. But those became rare ones as you tasted the sweet flavor of having people that went through the same dilemma by your side. They made everything bearable. You just hoped Finn could also find those people, if not his siblings, then maybe he could find peace somewhere far from them. He had every right of taking some time away if that was his wish.

Family can be suffocating.

Freya had been one of the nicest people you have ever met. Beneath that cold front she built before warming up to the Mikaelsons, there was a tender-hearted woman whom one day you used to call your friend. Freya was there when you crumbled down, she had been the one to help you pull yourself up and she was the one who let you know it was okay to leave if that's what you needed to do. If that's what your heart desires, do it. Her words never left you in some way, you were forever grateful.

Hayley entered your life before she became an honorary Mikaelson – she hated that joke. You helped her find information about her pack when both of you were still back at Mystic Falls. She had been the first person to point out Stefan's interest in you, though you didn't buy it. You actually became closer during her pregnancy. You weren't present in Hope's first months after she was born, but Hayley made sure to send you occasional pictures over the years. You didn't feel so out of the loop thanks to that.

And then, there was Kol.

The epitome of recklessness, wrath and chaos.

He was the a car accident that drove you over a bridge when you couldn't swim and a pillow fort you built overnight to dissipate your nightmares. Kol was the reason why you considered the Mikaelsons to be both the best and worst moment of your life. He was the rollercoaster that fed your desperation for love, displaying a pretty view at the top of the ride, before the crash eventually came and killed all that excitement.

Neither of you expected to fall so fast for one another. Or fall at all.

But he pushed his way into your heart with no permission granted, with his convinced smirks, wild persona and careless nature. He was cold in a warm manner. Tender in the way he held your fingertips with the same bloody hand that also had possession of your heart. And unbelievably good as he cared enough to let you into his heart.

You were too similar for it not to happen, until you were too different to remain together.

Kol Mikaelson conveyed all of the rumors that were spread about him, never once hiding behind a mask, and that's the reason you fell in love with no way back. It had never been an easy choice – choice... that's funny. Does love ever give you a choice? — his enemies became your enemies, you were a target, besides the unstoppable family hassle you always seemed to be involved in. In spite of the obvious reasons, the grounds for breaking up arose from him, surprisingly. Or not so surprisingly. It may have been his way of running away, but it was your way out of the mess he created in your head and heart. According to Hayley, he wasn't left unscathed. He suffered in a way that they had never seen before: through silence.

Kol had never been silent. He craved an audience, which was why he enjoyed discounting his ire on people. He wanted them to fight back in order for him to retaliate much harder. After you left, he didn't murder villages, tortured old enemies or provoked his siblings enough to get a rise out of them. You weren't that surprised once Hayley told you he left as well. What truly left you bewildered was the fact that he didn't cause trouble, turning into a shadow of the wildest Mikaelson people used to hear about.

You couldn't bear to feel guilty. If he wasn't being himself, that was his own doing. He left you first. Looking into the bright side, maybe he had finally mustered the act of growing up.

However, even with the all the heartache he had caused you, loving him was never a regret. You don't know if he felt the same, maybe you'd never know.

Stepping inside the Mikaelson manor made you self-conscious but still nostalgic. You hadn't lived in that house, of course they had built up many other expensive properties over the decade you've been gone. But there is something in the air when the Mikaelsons are around. And it isn't death or blood that you were referring to.

“Are you the friend my mom said was coming to visit us?”

A little girl with dark red hair met you in the entrance of the house. A stuffed bunny dangling from her small hands. You couldn't believe your eyes, but in the meantime you observed her sage green eyes that carry a brush of cinnamon and the tip of her nose, the familiarity practically slapping you in the face.

“I believe so,” you croak out as your lips quirk up in a soft smile. You tell her your name, introducing yourself and say, “and you must be Hope.”

“That's right.“ She gives you a little wave. You nearly leap on your feet at the idea that you're not considered a stranger for her to immediately turn away as parents would advise children. “I'll tell my mom you're here so she can invite you in.”

You nod, leaning on the door, you could feel the spell barely pushing you away. A harsh breeze brush your strands in your face and you roll your eyes at the familiar scent of a hybrid nearby you.

“I have lipstick on, you know how that does not match with hair?“ Two arms engulf you in a strong embrace. You can't help but laugh as your body entwines with Hayley's. “Hay,“ you mumble to her shoulder. “You are kind of ten times stronger than me. Perks of being a hybrid and all...“

“Oh, please. I should be actually crushing you.”

When she cups your cheeks, like a mother would when her child has been gone for too long, you stare at the sage green eyes you had just seen in the entrance. “I missed you too.“ Hayley gives you an eyeroll, letting you go as she asks Hope to let you in. Ah, it made sense. She's not a vampire.

Hope smiles timidly at you as you enter the foyer, her gaze switching to her mother almost pleadingly. Hayley mentions with a tilt of her chin towards the backdoor and Hope quickly rushes away to what you assume is the backyard of the house.

“She's playing hide and seek.“ Hayley clarifies their short interaction, turning to you. “When did you arrive?“

“Today.“ You say, lifting the book to her line of sight. “I told you I kept something that could help.“

“I know,“ she smiles gratefully. Hayley hasn't aged a day since you last met. Of course, she isn't physically able to age at all due to vampirism, but her perpetually concerned gaze was replaced by relaxed shoulders and a proud smile. She has joy written all over her. For the looks of it, motherhood has done her good.

“She's like a mix of you and Klaus.“ You watch the girl running around searching for whoever she's playing with. Hayley takes you to the balcony, the view is pretty that it takes a bit of your breath away. The forest on display is filled with orange and yellow because of the Autumn season. You've always found the sounds of the forest were the perfect noise to live close by.

“So I've heard.” Hayley crosses her arms above the railing, driving her attention to you after pointing somewhere to Hope who's in desperate need of help in the seeking aspect of the game. “How's your life been?” She asks, shifting her whole body towards yours. “New York, huh?”

You nod, imitating her previous position. “Yes. It's a great city.” She remains silent, probably waiting for you to elaborate. It's not like this is a casual visit and the Mikaelsons could be in any corner with their enhanced hearing. Not that you're ashamed of your current life, you just don't feel like yelling from the rooftops.

“That ring is pretty.” Hayley muses when you avoid looking at her. She can see your blush and her eyes soften at that. It's been so long since she has seen you remotely happy, she likes the sight. “You seem happy.” Her squeeze in your shoulder states reassurance. “I hope he doesn't screw up or I'll be coming over with more than just an army.“ A deep groan escapes your throat as your head falls on your forearm.

“You are worse than a whole freaking army.“

“You missed me.“

Shaking your head, your lips twitch in a bitter smile.

“Of course I missed you, Hayley.“ Your smile falls slightly as you see that Hope finally found who she's been looking for in the past half hour.

Kol is coming out from behind a tree and dramatically throwing himself on the grass as Hope's giggles echo around.

“I missed all of you.” Slips out in a whisper.

As soon as Hayley follows your gaze, she picks up the reason for the sudden change in your demeanor. This is what she's been trying to delay.

There's no point now. “He came back at the beginning of this year.” You blink, turning away from the cute scene happening right below you. “Said he missed his niece. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.”

She steps away from the balcony and that's what it takes for you to stop staring at a playful Kol tickling Hope to death.

“Why wouldn't it be a good thing?” You swallow hard, sitting down on one of the loveseats. The ceiling is not bland white as you expected it to be, as you analyse the colors and the shapes, you recognize the famous painting you've been in love with since it was first made.

Van Gogh's Starry Night brings the ceiling alive with the false sensation of movement the circular brush strokes provides.

“He's teaching her magic and she makes some of my stuff disappear for fun. Kol's such a bad influence— Oh.” Hayley's face stretches into a smile upon seeing where you were staring at. “Klaus painted it. This is Hope's bedroom.”

That's when you realize the soft blue on the walls along with colorful drawings clearly made by a child.

“It's beautiful.” You let out in admiration. “God, that bastard is talented.”

Hayley huffed, “Yeah, well, ever since you mention it in that very first Skype call she can't stop talking about it. So he painted it.”

Leaning back on the chair, you glance at her. “That's such a dad thing of him.” She shrugs in silent agreement. “He's not a bad influence,” you utter after the conversation dies down. You're not referring to Klaus. “He loves children, that's just his way of teaching her how to protect herself.” In extreme cases. It's better to teach her to protect herself instead of delaying it when she actually needs it.

Hayley's eyes travel across your features for a while and just as you begin to grow self-conscious of what you said, she flips the topic back to the real issue at hand.

“So, do you usually keep old grimoires in a secret passageway at your apartment or something?”

Your lips raise in amusement, “It's from an old friend. He lent it to me for safekeeping.”

The hybrid's eyes regarded you with suspicion, then she glances down at the book in her hands.

“Should I even be touching that?”

“C'mon,” you say in jest. “My friends aren't that bad.”

“I am not that bad. The Mikaelsons are certainly debatable and if I can recall someone called Katherine Pierce who was also considered your friend — who I still doubt that it was all that she was — then we need to discuss what you mean by not that bad.”

“Should I mention Tyler dogbreath Lockwood, Hayley? He was a nuisance!” You throw back in a complete mature way. “I can't believe you would voluntarily hold a conversation with the guy.”

Hayley snickers, “He wasn't as bad as you make him out to be.”

“You're right,“ you nod. “He was worse.“

Hayley hums, quietly analyzing the grimoire with what you can tell is interest that leads to boredom. She closes it in a thud and stands up. “I'll have to give this to Davina.“

You frown in confusion, following her out of the room. “The Claire witch? You're trusting that teenager with the life of my niece?” Your tone raises in light disbelief as Hayley descends the stairs completely unbothered by your accusation. “Where is Freya? Where is everyone— You can't possibly be serious, Hayley.”

“Freya is generously taking an early flight back to Virginia as we speak, cutting her honeymoon short. She was the one who requested Davina to be put to use in this task, if I can recall.” You knew it was Elijah before you saw his impeccable suit, merely because of his eloquence. He offers you a smile as you reach the living room. “Welcome back.” You're amused by the way he ignores your attempt at handshaking to lay a kiss on the back of your hand. He's always done that, it's no surprise. That's an Elijah thing to do. His eyes fall on your left hand. “And congratulations on your engagement. I've heard.”

You give him a close lipped smile in return, withdrawing your hand to cross your arms.

“Yes, it seems that everyone has.”

“You know, the term being put to use might not be taken as a good thing to every person.” The voice behind you causes your body to freeze. “Hello, stranger.”

Elijah is gone with the wind before you can notice and Hayley, who seems to have ventured off somewhere, still isn't back.

“She's not a stranger, Uncle Kol.” Hearing Hope's voice as you turn around is a form of relief, you admit. She's smiling kindly at you from her Uncle Kol's shoulders. “That's mom's friend. Remember, the one she told us was coming over?“

Kol acts fascinated. “That is true, Hope. Thank you for reminding me.”

She giggled, mouthing out to you above his head “Forgetful.”

You crack a smile at that. Mikaelson humor.

It doesn't take long for Hope to get tired of your attention and scurry away to her bedroom. And then, there were two.

How do you greet someone who broke your heart but still has a part of it with them?

“You look beautiful.”

You can affirm something: do not start like that.

“Thank you.“ You reply shortly. The stairs are right there, you could literally take a step back and you'd be on your way to the first floor. Still, you remain in the same place.

You had yet to look him in the eye since he entered the living room. That doesn't happen until he stops right in front of you.

The first thing you notice about Kol was his voice. Centuries back, when you first met, he had said your name before you even acknowledged his family. It slipped out of his tongue; honey mixed with pepper. A strange mixture that ends up being perfect once you taste.

Saying someone's name is like holding a secret beneath your tongue. You have the power to reveal it, you can pronounce it and you can choose to savour it to yourself. The taste is not made for everyone, it is reserved for you and you only. And he had that power from the first moment he called out your name.

“How's married life going?“

Your head tilts in confusion as his eyes are cast downwards. A scowl turns your lips into a frown. Just like that, the peaceful haze is over.

“Not married,” you say through gritted-teeth, turning away from him and from the flight of stairs. You want to get out of this house. If someone else asks about anything related to marriage again you'd probably snap.

“Yet, right?”

“That's what engagements work for, have you not had your fair share of those to understand that?” He has followed you outside and is faster than you since he's currently leaning with his body on your car door. Arms crossed and a side smile.

You hated to know what that meant. You hated that you knew him at all.

“Can you move?“ You snap, eyes narrowing. Kol hums softly as if he's considering your request. Dick. “Okay, I'll walk then.”

The defeated sigh you heard as you turn your back on him is almost a reason to make you relieved. But your arm was pulled back and that cold touch just made your whole body halt instantly.

❝ but I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain... ❞

“Can you stop being stubborn for a second?” He exclaims, kicking the car door shut as he walked with heavy steps towards you.

The rain softly paints the car windows with its tears. You forced him to step on the breaks so you could get out of the vehicle because of how mad you were. You couldn't remember the reason for the fight, but it happened and you didn't want to be around him.

“It's going to rain.”

You scoff, “I'm not made of sugar. I can handle a little rain.”

The thunder rolls in the sky, causing you to flinch slightly. A cold hand grabs your wrist.

“You'd rather walk in a thunderstorm than argue with me, is it?” Kol shrugs off his jacket with a scowl, covering your shoulder with it in a swift movement, one he had done many times before. “Real mature, love.” He shoves the car keys into your hand.

“What—”

“Take the car.” He had sped off before you could ask him to go to hell. Because no. You wouldn't take his car and leave him in a freaking thunderstorm. But he decided that just like he decided to put an end to your relationship.

“Stay.“ He says, drawing his hand back with hesitance. That quickly brought you back to the present. “I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry.” That's one of the rarest moments you've heard him apologize, it didn't used to be something in his vocabulary.

“I'll just wait for Freya at the hotel. It's not like we can start the spell before she's here.” You clear your throat, a bit taken aback by his presence still. You feel so silly.

Kol nods thoughtfully, taking a step back from you as if you aren't allowed to be too close. “Okay.” And before you can enter your car and drive off, your ears are still very much in tune with his voice even if he's all the way inside the house. “It's good to see you again.”

You're not sure if you share the same feeling.

━━━━━

“This is from the Gemini coven.”

You turn away from Davina's chanting to stare at Freya's impassive stance. She always kept that façade while doing magic.

“And what of it?“ Freya gives you a sideways glance as you roll your eyes, leaning back on the wall as the Witch finishes up the spell and mutters something to Hayley. Freya has done her part and for some reason they needed another set of hands. You don't question it. “Don't fret. There'll be no retaliation.”

“Good, because we don't need a crazy siphoner touring around New Orleans.”

You crack a chuckle, brushing your hair behind your ear. “The grimoire is technically mine.” Freya's eyes narrow suspiciously at your claim. “What? It is. It was a gift.”

“Kai Parker gave you a gift?” She regards you with disbelief. You shrug in response, it's the truth. It's not like you were capable of stealing something from Malachai Parker and leave unscathed. He is a tiny bit insane and you aren't special.

“She has a thing for K's, doesn't she?” You flinch at the breath in your neck. It earns Rebekah a glare as she walks around the pillar you were leaning on, her smirk takes her whole face, granting mischief in her blue eyes.

“We're done.”

You cut off your jab towards Rebekah when Davina's voice reaches your attention.

“Just like that?”

Freya gives you another one of her warning looks but you are facing the Claire Witch with a hard gaze. You didn't trust her then and you wouldn't trust her now. And it has nothing to do with her age nor the lack of experience in the magic department — or life, in general — it was more of a grudge you held for the girl ever since she messed with your family. You recalled quite well how she had weakened the Mikaelsons and played a part in Marcel's stupid plan to destroy all of them. Almost. You hated both of them with your every being. No matter how Klaus may have forgiven Marcel for it or how Hayley claims that Davina was manipulated.

“We did everything that was in the grimoire. She's safe.” Her voice carries defiance and you could certainly enjoy the opportunity to play into her attitude.

A low hum left your lips and you hear someone sigh around the room, you couldn't concentrate enough to name who it was but you have a guess.

“Okay. That's great.” You utter, mouth widening into a satisfied grin. You like the way she regards you with caution as you stride over. “You're gonna need that?” You ask in a whisper, pointing towards the book in her small hands. She hands it over to you, you take it slowly, mumbling a thank you and offering a sickly sweet smile. Your distaste is a mutual feeling, you're glad to know.

The entire family heads back to the Mikaelson manor. Despite Rebekah's pestering for you to go with them, you manage to escape for some alone time.

Rousseau's is where you end up after walking aimlessly through the city. Some things have changed. There are a few new musicians playing in the corners of the streets, but those familiar faces still there as well. The streets are illuminated by the lampposts scattered around the French Quarter, the shadows of the streetlights dancing at your feet remind you of times where you'd feel happiness holding you together. The bittersweet moment is interrupted by something soft tickling your ankle, causing you to jump in surprise. Quite literally.

“Never seen a cat before?” Someone mocks your tense stance as you watch the feline exit the bar.

You would have snapped their neck if the sweet smile of Camille O'Connell didn't reach your eyes right away. She's drying up glasses on the counter, probably getting ready to close the establishment, it was around the time she usually did.

“Can you spare this poor soul a bit of alcohol?”

“I'll never get used to that,” Camille says, shaking her head and the sound of titling metal made your face stretch into a grin. “You're not old enough to drink.” She starts preparing your favourite drink. Alcohol isn't your favourite thing in the world, but Cami's drinks are sweet enough to appease your taste buds. You didn't spend hours wallowing in this bar with nothing to accompany you — the alcohol and Camille's ears to listen to your misery.

Your nose wrinkles. “I am over 400 years old, Cami. How many times have we been over this?”

She tsked, curling her lower lip, throwing the cloth on her shoulder as she leans on the bar top.

“You look like seventeen.”

“That's flattering?” You muse, sipping your blue beverage. “I can't even remember what my seventeens were like.” That last part you mumbled to yourself.

“At what age did you turn?” Her voice is sad and you start grieving the fun of the moment.

Taping your nails against the wood distractedly, you work on pulling the terrifying moment from the abyss of your mind. Camille's gaze trails over your features in her own curiosity.

“It's been a while, huh?” She felt the need to change the subject. That made you crack a smile. Did she think she had genuinely upset you?

“Ten years or so.”

“Yes.” She says pointedly. “What brings you back?” She finally finishes cleaning up and you realise you're probably delaying her sleep schedule, but she hasn't complain about your overstay and you don't mention it.

You decide on telling her the truth. “Family stuff.” The partial truth, that is. “I died in 1603,” you refer to her previous question. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head. “I had recently entered my twenties. Can say now that I never got out of it.”

She didn't laugh at your joke, but you did.

“I'm sorry. Do you still...”

“Remember it?”

“Yes.”

You shrug nonchalantly. “It was a life changing event. So, yeah. I do remember it. But it doesn't make me feel anything anymore. It's something I no longer care about.” That's the truth. The memory doesn't affect you as much as it used to.

Cami nod, a strand of her hair slipping from behind her ear. She brushes it back and you tilt your head at the bracelet in her wrist. Once that has been there ever since you first visited Rousseau's.

“You still wear it.” You point out. She frowns confused, but her gaze follows where your attention lays and she hums.

“Yes. Can't have myself walking around the zoo with no defense.”

“The zoo—” you can't suppress the snort that comes out of you. “I can't believe you just said that.”

“I did.” Camille puts her hand on your shoulder and you deflect lightly. Guess it's time to leave. “I'm closing up. It's almost 1 am.”

“Sorry, Cami.” You shouldn't have bothered her that much. “Can I walk you home?”

It's her turn to chuckle. She locks up the bar and spins around to face you, a knowing glint in her bright blue eyes. You don't like that look. It kind of reminds you of Caroline when she knows something about yourself that you don't. Or that you just don't want to admit yet.

You miss her too.

“Are you really that desperate to avoid your problems?” You gape at her. “C'mon. Did you actually come here so I could make you a Grasshopper?” Oh, so that is the name of the drink you've had since forever. Good to know.

“I wanted some company.” You confess, rolling your eyes as she waits for you to follow her steps. Half the truth, again. This was the best place to avoid your problems — one problem. “Is that such a crime?”

“You sound like Klaus.”

“Stop offending me or I'll kill you.”

“Go ahead. I'm sure you'll like it when my blood burns your throat from how much vervain I've been taking.”

Your lips quirk up in a lopsided grin.

“I'm just going to say something, feel free to ignore it.” Cami announces as you crossed the street. You've arrived at her apartment. When you stop in front of the entrance and she turns her full body to you, her face has lost all the merriment. “I don't know why you are back. I don't even know the entire reason why you left so suddenly.” That makes you grow tense. “But that's none of my business. What I want to say is that, don't allow what let you down get to you again. If you think that getting out of here, taking some space to yourself, was good, then so be it. It's your life, okay? You deserve to be happy.”

You stand quiet for a while, absorbing everything she had said.

“I am.” You say quietly. “I am happy.” Away from here.

She smiles down at you, then, surprisingly, pulls you into a hug. Cami and you have never been close. You just listened to each other's complaints in the midst of the bar's loudness. You grew to have a bond but it was nothing as tight-knit as what you had with Freya or Hayley. Although, you did miss Cami while you were gone. She was the only one who knew how to make a good Grasshopper, anyway.

“Stop by the bar before you take off god-knows-where again.” She requests after you split apart.

“I'll think about it.” You bury your hands on your jacket with a smile as she bids you goodbye.

The city is never completely quiet. There's local music playing in some corners still at that time of the day. You realise you have reached Jackson Square when you put a pause on your walk, listening and breathing into New Orleans. Even the smell is different, maybe it is the lack of tragedy in the streets. You hope it carries on that way, Hope deserves to live peacefully. Or as peaceful as Hayley Marshall's and Klaus Mikaelson's daughter can live.

“Can you step out of there? It's getting ridiculous.” A woman crossing the street gives you an ugly look and you couldn't care less. You were talking to the Edward Cullen beside the tree a few feet back from where you stand. “How long have you been following me like a creepy stalker?”

“I've just arrived.” Kol says. You can see him rolling his eyes without taking a look at him. “And I wasn't following you.”

“Oh,” you blink innocently at him. “Sorry. I didn't know you had become such a religious man over the course of ten years.”

St. Louis Cathedral has all of its lights off, which means it's closed for the night. It's not like you wanted to enter the church in the first place, you just thought it looked pretty this time of the night. You'd frequent that area a lot to read a book when you were bored. Kol never shared that particular interest.

❝ and It's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name...❞

“This paranoia between you and Klaus is getting out of hand.” You mention to him one night as he turned your room upside down looking for something he would not inform you about. “You better put all of that back because I will not.” You say with a shake of your head, frustrated.

“He has the dagger. I have nothing to protect myself with.”

“So run away again. It's what you do best.” You let out. Only realising what you had done after it slips past your lips. The room is quiet, the silence deafening to the point where you flinch at the sound of creaking wood.

It wasn't the bed. It wasn't the wardrobe. When you glimpse at the door, hesitantly, it has been left ajar.

He did what you asked.

You remember inhaling deeply before throwing a jacket over your shoulder and grabbing the book of the week to read at Jackson Square, viewing the passerby's that would enter and exit St. Louis Cathedral.

“You'd come here and sit on that bench right over there with a new book every week.”

Your chest latches onto unwanted nostalgia you should desperately trying to get rid of. It makes your arms go numb and a cold shiver run down your spine. You blink at him. You knew?

“What?” You grunt, slightly disoriented.

Kol seems lost in his head, much like you were a few seconds ago, but he has a bigger grasp on reality than you do. “I thought it was more of something out of spite that you did. Sit in front of a church. Watch people leave. Choose a prey and feed on them to make them somehow question their faith.”

Furrowing your brows in thought, you consider out loud, “You thought that I'd come here to prove a point?”

He shrugs. The repetitive kicking of rocks tells you he is more nervous than he's letting on. Kol could mask his feelings well, his first choice of emotion would be anger and he'd just about use it to everything and everyone.

Over the years you'd notice some tells beneath all that rage. There was resentment and there was sadness. And now you can see guilt. You wonder if you're simply imagining something you want to see instead of what's actually there.

“What are you doing here, Kol?”

You're tired. You're beginning to think that Stefan was right and you should have evaluated the pros and cons of being in this fucking city before choosing the first flight five minutes after Rebekah's text.

“I missed you.”

“No.” You ignore the way you want to run away at what feels like sincerity coming out of his mouth. “What are you really doing here?”

His lips twitch and you think that familiar smirk will appear, but it doesn't. Just a sad smile.

“I missed you.” He repeats firmly as if not to let it hang in the air enough for confusion. There is no dubious meaning. He is not playing a game. “I haven't had a chance to say that when you were here.”

You take your time surveying his features. He had cut his hair, but you noticed that when he was playing with Hope in the backyard. His style is still the same, the moles still in the same spots around his cheeks and neck, his cupid's bow hasn't changed either. Kol's physique barely suffered any alterations, but he is different. Suddenly, you remember Hayley and the new spark in her eyes.

They both mirror people who have let go of their demons. The ones who scratch your skin and sink into your shoulders claiming your body as well as your mind as theirs. It is impossible to escape all of them at once, but time makes it bearable to live with some as you learn to let go of others.

“What do you mean?” You sit at edge of a bench. Not the one you used to sit almost every week. That would be too much. He understands the space left is for him to occupy after a moment. “That you haven't had the chance to say it when I was here. Why would you miss me while I was here?”

You know exactly why. You felt that all the time with him. Most of the time you dated a shadow in place of the man you loved and it is sad that, at some point, you got used to it.

“Because I wasn't. I wasn't here when I should have been and you were gone before I could help it.” A wave of regret travels across his features and you turn away before your gazes can meet. “And yes, I have no right of saying that after—after—”

“Ten years?”

“... ten years.” You complete at the same time. “I lost your trust. I lost you. Which is something that I'll never forgive myself for. I just... I just need you to know—”

“Don't.”

He furrowed his eyebrows as you stood up, running a hand through your face in pure... frustration? Anger? Fear? Yes. Fear. He is being unpredictable. Kol Mikaelson is unpredictable, it's one of the many traits of his you spend a long time admiring, until it became a burden in your relationship.

But after ten years you had no idea how to deal with this and you don't want to deal with it. Not now. Not after you and him were over.

He says your name almost pleadingly.

“Kol, don't.” You cut him off. “You can't do this now. You just can't.” You flinch away when he tries to touch you as a form of comfort. You didn't want that comfort. Not from him. Not anymore.

His eyes soften and there's hurt in them but you can't do this now. It's not fair. “I'm not trying to do anything.”

“Yes, you are!” You croak out, slightly shaken up. “Whatever you have to say doesn't make a difference now.”

You see his jaw clench slightly. Good. You want him to be angry. At least this side of him you can handle because you'll attack just as hard.

“I'm sorry.”

Your eyes snap to him. “I'm sorry.” Kol repeats, walking towards you with much more certainty. “I was a coward, immature and just overall selfish. I shouldn't have left, but I did and that doesn't change the past, but, but I loved you. I truly did. If I could go back—”

“You can't.” Your lower lip curl between your teeth. You can't take anything back. You can't undo the past. “You can't make it better, Kol.” You say, attempting to hold your self together in front of the boy who broke your heart into pieces. You still haven't found all of them yet, they were scattered, some beyond repair. “I was a mess without you. Do you know how long it took for me to pick myself back up?”

“You shouldn't have left.” You harshly clean a tear that travels down your cheek. “If you hadn't, if you had given me a chance to, to be there for you, then, yes, it would all be different. Trust me. It would. But because of what you did, it's not.” Admitting that to yourself took too long and it was the hardest thing you had to do, but admitting that to him? No. It felt freeing. It felt liberating. It felt fair.

There was a point in which all you could think about was making him suffer the way you did. Because he deserved it. How can someone claim to love you so deeply and then vanish from your life?

However, it isn't really the anger that prevails as he stands in front of you at Jackson Square, trying to apologize for years of pain that he had caused. As soon as you spill your heart out, the only thing left is sadness and nostalgia. You miss the screaming and fighting. You miss his stupid obsession with magic. You miss his sincerity, because till this day, no one would throw the truth in your face like Kol did. You miss the excitement. You miss his insanity. You miss him.

Loving Kol Mikaelson had not been easy. Still, you wouldn't go back on your choice if you had the chance. Because loving him had been a choice, one you've made for nearly five decades. And letting him go had driven you to the edge and brought you back to life.

Yes, you miss him. But it's not strange the fact that, deep down, you'll always miss someone you fell in love with. Even if they didn't carried your heart as carefully as you deserved. They were still part of you. Maybe, they always would be.

“I know.” He says, voice rough. You'd barely hear him if you didn't have enhanced hearing. “I regret it every single day of my life.” His eyes follow as you lean back in the bench. You're sitting in opposite ones. He stares at you as if you're a wounded animal, afraid to approach. His red-rimmed eyes make your heart clench.

You think about how funny it is that your body can react the same to a person. As if they're permanently marked into your soul.

Kol had never said what you wanted to hear. The truth was the only thing that escaped from his lips, even if it would absolutely crush you.

He was real and he pulled you back from the edge many times before. Even if he had been the one pushing you over that same edge afterwards.

This truth is crushing you. But it is a pain you must feel in order to fully move on.

You exhale slowly. “I know you do.” You can see the clear regret in his eyes. It's sipping through his soul and it may have eaten some part of him during these years. You don't feel okay with that. Strangely as that may be, you don't wish his suffering.

“Do you?” He lets out faintly, uncertain. “I'm not— I am not saying any of that with cruel intentions. I never meant to hurt you. I love you, but,”

“... but it wasn't enough to make you stay.” You swallowed with difficulty.

“No.” You glance up at him, something in your chest shatters. You don't know if his honesty is something you crave now. “I miss you. I never stopped missing you, no matter how hard I tried. And I, I don't know how to change that.”

“You can't.” You say, feeling like you can breathe properly after such a long time. “Because I miss you too, Kol.” and I love you. Not the same way, but I do. “It's not something we can change, it's just there. Maybe time will somehow make it better.”

“Really?” The hope in his voice grips you tight. That desperation to move on. To forget. You relate to that so much. “Is that what you think? Sounds too human to come from you.”

You let out a scoff, throwing your head back. “What does that even mean, Mikaelson?”

His deep chuckle brings a small smile out of you.

“Time is necessary for everyone.” You watch him quietly. He has the same tell from before; when his head is full, he plays with the ring in his index finger. Whenever he did that, you'd curl your fingers around his shoulder and squeeze it, he'd relax under your touch.

You would miss that. But you can live without it. You can live without him just as he can live without you. You know it's for the better.

It's almost four in the morning when you arrive back in the hotel. The first thing you do is take a shower, then throw yourself in bed pretending it is the one in your bedroom at your home. Soft and with your favorite pillows. Not the real scratchy and thin bedding you currently have.

It doesn't work, so you dial the familiar number in your phone to actually hear home from the line.

“I'm sorry to be dumping this on you.”

“You're dumping nothing on me.“ Stefan retorts and you can clearly see him shaking his head. “Hey, you handled Ripper-me, if I can't handle you talking about your ex then what does that say about me?“

You stare at the ceiling, “Ripper-you wasn't that terrifying.“ You mock him, earning a snicker that makes your entire being warm.

“I'm certain some people would disagree a little bit.”

“Eh,” You shrug, kicking the comfort off of your legs. “Nothing I can't handle, baby.”

When his chuckles dies down, his tone comes back slightly serious and you pick up on the tinge of concern in it. Same as the day before.

You've unleashed your still-fresh wounds to Stefan a few minutes back. There's no one else you wanted to talk to after everything that's happened. You needed safety, you needed someone to ground you, to stop you from spiraling out of control. Stefan always does that.

He doesn't question too much nor does he judge the situation. He must have expected something like that would end up happening. Part of you wishes he would yell at you, telling you that he had been right and you should have listened to him from the start. Instead, he just listens.

Stefan understands that just as it's Kol, for you. It's Elena, for him. And there's nothing none of you can do about it.

“You can always come to me for anything,” he breaks the silence. “I'm here, I'm not going anywhere.”

Inhaling sharply, fiddling with your engagement ring, you ask, “Why?”

Why aren't you running away? Why do you want to deal with me for the rest of your life?

“Because I love you. And I'm not only here for the good times but also the bad times. I'm here for the ugly truth and I'll still be here for the worst part.” Your breathing is labored at this point. You refrain from telling him you don't deserve it. You don't deserve that he stays. You don't deserve that he's still here after everything. But it's his choice and he's choosing to love you with your baggage.

“For better and for worse. In sickness and in health, right?”

The snort that escapes you is nothing but awful. “You're an idiot.“ You shake your head, pressing the phone closer to your ear as if that would make him closer to you.

You can practically see his smirk through the phone. “But I'm your idiot.” He seems to ponder over your silence. “Ugh, that was cheesy, wasn't it?”

“Yes,” you confirm, biting your lip to avoid a stupid grin. “don't do that ever again.” You order, knowing he will most certainly do it more than ten times. Because that is how Stefan is like. He tells you bad jokes in bad moments to make you feel better, he keeps you company through a phone call for how long you need comfort for and he's the one that makes you feel perfectly fine at the end of the day.

“Please don't break-up with me, we're almost getting married.”

“I'll consider this plea.”

The conversation ends up reaching something lighter when he asks about Hope and Hayley. You tell him about Hope and how bright she is, you detail the tiny differences of New Orleans from before and now and you confess you miss him. Because you do.

In the end, this trip was good. It unfolded a part of your story that had been buried down in a drawer for a long time. You needed closure and you had it tonight. It's bittersweet and it's nostalgic and it's sad but it is necessary.

Which is why you no longer have doubts about your future. Everything seems perfectly clear now that you've confronted your past, the monsters do not look so big anymore.

“I love you,” he says. The line had gone silent for a while as both of you seem to be thinking over to yourselves.

His hoarse voice and clipped tone tells you that he's as affected by this trip as you are. You want to comfort him, saying that there's nothing you need to worry about, I'll come back, I'll always return to you. But none of that will get through his brain until your face to face, finally in each other's arms.

And something that you've come to see through a new perspective is that love isn't tiring, it isn't heavy nor it is draining. Love is strength, calmness and security. Love can be fire, kissing in the rain and a rollercoaster of emotions. But it's not bad and it's not rotten. It can, however, sometimes be doubtful. It can raise questions that can make you halt on your way to say yes, but that's okay. Because even though you're certain, you're allowed to not have all the answers and you're allowed to not be alone to search for them.

“I love you, too,” you breathe out, shutting your eyes to imagine you were close to him, in your safe place.

“It's so good to know that you're smiling right now.”

You let out a scoff, shaking your head but your mouth is quirking up in the sides. “Seriously, you've gotta stop doing that, Stef. Am I feeding your ego?” You don't wait for a response. “Don't answer that, I know I am.”

“Come home.”

Because no matter how much you occasionally missed your past, your present and future are greater than anything else you could have possibly desired.

❝ and that's the way I loved you...❞

“I will.”

You couldn't have asked for anything better.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[alternate ending]

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