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#Bread boy has it bad

meteor752 · 1 year

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We gotta appreciate the weird rollercoaster of a journey the Bad boys have been through I mean

Bad Boys: We’re cool punkers!

Me: Alright neat!

Bas Boys: We’re the secret protection service of our boy!

Me: That’s cool! That’s cool!

Bad boys: We’re bakers now

Me: O…Kay?

Bad Boys: We’ve joined the MIB in remembrance of our son, Bread Bridge 😔✊

Me: ????????????

#Every single new episode of theirs is a fucking roller coaster I tell ya #Jimmy especially I mean man has a whole wide plot that no one but him and NN care about #limited life #limlife #limlife spoilers #traffic life spoilers #The bad boys #The bread boys #The Sad Boys #idk #jimmy solidarity #Grian #joel smallishbeans #trafficshipping #Yeah I’m tagging it

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pseudowho · 4 months

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Post-ShibuyaAU! Grey Nanami Kento Headcanons, Part 2

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

As an accompaniment to my story, Grey (link here); an AU where Nanami survives Shibuya exploration because I'm never going to be over his loss.

Part 1 of Greynami Headcanons, link here

Christmas Greynami Headcanons, link here

Warnings: Severe injury (burns, eye loss), PTSD, alcohol use, depression, light smut, angst, AU headcanons

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Before he met you:

AU!Nanami Kento who takes up smoking again, a habit he had while working as a salaryman. His voice becomes rougher, more gravelly, irritated by the tobacco.

AU!Nanami Kento whose parents weep and stroke his healed burned face the first time they see him post-Shibuya, devastated by the suffering their little boy has experienced.

AU!Nanami Kento who sees that pain in his mothers' eyes every time he visits her. She can't help it. She's just heartbroken she couldn't keep her baby safe.

AU!Nanami Kento who begins to screen his parents' calls, not visit for dinner like he used to, and sends birthday gifts in the post instead of in person. Causing them distress by exposing them to his brutal injuries is a stress he's too fragile to cope with.

AU!Nanami Kento who listens to his fathers' long voicemails every night after a few drinks.

AU!Nanami Kento who often doesn't go home between missions, sleeping against walls in old buildings instead, a cold uncomfortable sleep preferable to a deep sleep with nightmares.

AU!Nanami Kento who alters his wardrobe after his tie, which he was unusually fond of, was destroyed by Jogo's flames. He can't find the tie for sale anymore. His beige suits just don't feel the same without it.

AU!Nanami Kento gives the last vestiges of his emotional energy to Yuuji, knowing he needs support, not wanting Yuuji to know he's struggling, not wanting to add more to Yuuji's already full plate.

AU!Nanami Kento who used to daydream about being a father one day, but now, being loved and giving love in return feels so remote and unlikely

After he meets you:

AU!Nanami Kento who tries to hide his trauma at first, afraid it will be too much baggage for you.

AU!Nanami Kento who is grateful to the very depths of his soul when you make it clear that he could never be too traumatised to be loved; you are each others' therapist, confidant, and sexy best friend.

AU!Nanami Kento, who struggles through reducing his alcohol and cigarette intake, with your steadfast support.

AU!Nanami Kento whose home screen photo is one of you asleep, snuggled into his chest, drooling; you hate it, he absolutely refuses to change it.

AU!Nanami Kento who confesses to you on one snowy evening walk; he tells you the moon looks beautiful tonight and you're on tiptoes kissing him before he can even finish his sentence.

AU!Nanami Kento who takes up baking bread overnight if he can't sleep, the process cathartic and soothing. You know he's had a bad night when you wake up to warm bakery smells.

AU!Nanami Kento and you, whose home becomes a refuge for all the kids who know where the spare key is hidden.

AU!Nanami Kento who has made up the spare room for Yuuta, Inumaki and Nobara at separate points in just one week.

AU!Nanami Kento, who makes sure you buy extra bottles of burn ointment, and delivers them to Maki when he gets the chance.

AU!Nanami Kento, stood at the bathroom counter which you sit on, facing him, your legs wrapped around his hips, as you gently shave around his scars. Kento rests his hands on your waist, slipping his fingers under your shirt, just to feel your skin.

AU!Nanami Kento, whose towel comes loose and drops to the floor, staring into your eyes in challenge. You last a few seconds before your eyes flick down, drinking in the beautiful nudity of him.

AU!Nanami Kento who immediately throws you over his shoulder, and carries you to your bedroom while you squeal and laugh, being promptly de-clothed by him.

AU!Nanami Kento who behaves the second time you sit on the counter, to finish the job you started; he looks at you with a naughty glint in his eye.

AU!Nanami Kento who, with your support and continuous company on his missions, finds his power grows rapidly; he manages five black flashes in a row, and feels he may be nearing domain establishment.

AU!Nanami Kento who, after a rocky start with Higuruma Hiromi, becomes his firm friend, forming an intensely unstoppable duo. Ino is only a little bit jealous.

AU!Nanami Kento who finally calls his parents with your encouragement. He can't help but tell them about you immediately. They're thrilled, and want you round for dinner as soon as possible.

AU!Nanami Kento who is mortified as you and his mother coo over his baby photos.

AU!Nanami Kento who is stunned into silence when, in the car on the way home, you wonder out loud if your babies will look more like you or him.

AU!Nanami Kento who throws you into bed the moment you get home, face between your legs and drunk on the taste and sounds of you, until you're begging him to come closer; he graciously complies, his mind full of your future home, tiny footsteps and laughter as you cling to him in bliss.

AU!Nanami Kento who goes looking for rings on his days off; it's a huge decision, and one he ponders over for months, so in the meantime, he buys you a watch which perfectly matches his own.

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More love for Greynami. I'll do some bigger stories at some point too.

Part 1 of Greynami Headcanons link here

Thanks as always to @silkspunweb for being my muse and fellow unhinged friend.

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greiiliss · 1 year

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I said it once and now I can't stop thinking about everyone in Limited Life just being kids on a playground

They all have different curfews, and their clock runs out when they need to go home

Scott found a puddle and is making a very pretty mud-castle

Pearl and BigB are playing spies, sneaking up on everyone and watching them through the bushes. Pearl brought her cat from home, and BigB keeps finding and carrying around frogs

The TIES are trying to make a shelter for some bugs they found (probably slugs or caterpillars or smth). They have lost track of every bug they found (except for one, which Joel stomped on), and are constantly searching for more

Entertainment mountain is a giant boulder that the Clockers are playing house on. Cleo was declared Mom because she is the tallest out of the entertainers, and because she keeps yelling at Scar to put his shirt back on

Scar has a bunch of erasers and bracelets and stuff from the school store that he keeps trying to trade with everyone

The Bad Boys claimed the playground as their territory. They all have kiddie sunglasses. Joel's are too big for him and slip down his nose.

Cleo declares a game of The Floor is Lava every time the Bad Boys annoy her.

Boogeyman curse is a game of tag

The Bad Boys made Bad Boys Bread Bridge out of everyone's lunchboxes. They hopped on the lunchboxes during The Floor is Lava so Joel could tag one of the Clockers

Skizz and Bdubs' fight was an actual fistfight. Skizz tapped Bdubs once and was declared winner

#limited life #limited life smp #lilsmp #limlife #trafficblr #traffic life smp #life series #limlife playground au #greii talks

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moonstruckme · 2 months

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wearing spencers clothes🤯🤯 the boy would not be able to focus!!!! i love all of your work btw!! you're single handedly encouraging me back into my marauders phase❤️

Then my scheme is working ! Thanks for requesting babe :)

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Spencer has to force himself out of bed so you don’t wake up to him staring at you. Also, so he has time away from you to get himself together.

He’s never felt so much like skipping before. As soon as he’s in the kitchen, full to bursting with the knowledge that you’re asleep one room over, his smile is unshakable. It’s embarrassing, honestly, he’s like a high schooler. You can’t see him like this. He starts going through the kitchen to see what’s not expired. Ketchup, hummus, bread, muffin mix (too risky), mattar paneer (not a very good breakfast), eggs. Spencer can work with eggs. He has to double-check that he has both salt and pepper, but he’s good to go.

He pops bread in the toaster once he hears you moving around, a giddy flare of anticipation shooting up through his middle. You’ve never stayed over before, and Spencer didn’t have any time to prepare. He only has one hand towel, which you seem fine with sharing and he’s going to pop in the washing machine as soon as you leave, and only one toothbrush. He feels bad that you have to brush your teeth with your finger. If you deem him worthy of a next time, he tells himself, he’ll be ready then.

He hears the quiet padding of your footsteps but forces himself not to turn around until you say, “Morning.”

Your voice is still stretched with sleep, and when Spencer turns around he can see it still lingering in your face. Your eyelids are droopy, weighted down, and your hair looks like you’ve tried to run your fingers through it but couldn’t quite get it to behave, and you’re—that’s his sweater vest. You’re wearing his sweater vest.

He must be staring, because you look down at it, your expression going sheepish. “Sorry, is this okay? I know you’re sort of particular about germs, but I didn’t want to just come out here naked, and I really didn’t feel like putting on my jeans…”

Spencer shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s fine.” All the stuff you’d done last night, and you think he’s going to be fussy about your germs on his clothes? This is a completely different kind of upset. You’re—you look—well, you look like something Spencer dreamed up. You look like comfort and sweetness and Sunday morning.

“Okay, thanks.” You smile. Spencer thinks that if he was hooked up to a transducer, you’d actually be able to see the rush of dopamine to his brain. “It’s lucky you’re so tall, this fits me like a dress.”

A small dress, but sure. “I also have a disproportionately long torso,” he blurts. “My legs aren’t as long as they should be for my height, so my shirts and vests are longer than average.”

You nod like everything he’s just said made perfect and socially acceptable sense. The toast pops up and Spencer jolts a little, remembering to push the eggs around in the pan a bit.

A little smile tilts your lips, and you lean back against the counter behind him. “Are you making us breakfast?”

“Mhm.”

The smile spreads, your eyes going soft. “That’s so sweet of you,” you say warmly. “Thanks, Spence.”

“I can’t really cook,” he warns you. “I mean, I can usually do eggs, but only scrambled and even then I might…don’t thank me yet.”

A little laugh spurts out of you. It reminds Spencer of the fountain in front of his work, of water sparkling in the sun. “Okay,” you say, “do you want any help?”

“It’s probably best if whatever happens is undeniably my fault.”

You laugh again. He wonders what he can do to make that keep happening.

“Fair enough.” You push off the counter, headed towards the door. “Do you get the paper?”

For a second, Spencer’s too busy watching you go to remember if he does. “Y—yeah. It should be here by now,” he says.

He hears the door open, and then, “Perfect.” You come back brandishing the rolled-up paper, discarding the rubber band in his trash bin. “Do you mind if we do your crossword? You seem like you’d be so good at that.”

Spencer actually stopped doing the crossword years ago—the pop culture references he didn’t get, and the rest were too easy—but he’ll do it if it might impress you.

“Sure, let’s try.”

“Okay.” You grab a pen from the coffee table, spreading the paper open on the countertop. “Wyoming’s state sport, five—”

“Rodeo,” Spencer says. It takes him a beat to realize he cut you off. He turns, grimace in place and apology on his lips. “Sorry.”

But you’re grinning. You shake your head a little bit, pride or admiration or a bit of both, and write it down. You push a piece of hair away from your face. Spencer’s eyes get caught on the wool of his sweater vest where it brushes your collarbone.

“African river to the Mediterranean, four letters. That’s the Nile, right?”

The garment seems to shift with every tiny movement. Sliding atop your shoulders, moving about your neckline, the soft material skimming your ribs. Under the counter, it has to be bunched underneath your thighs.

“Spence?”

“Hm?” He forces his gaze up. “Yeah, the Nile.”

“Thanks.” Your eyes linger on him a second too long before you bend back over the paper, a knowing smile playing on the corner of your lips. “Okay, and eagle claw in five letters is talon, right? Oh, um, eggs.”

Spencer’s brow wrinkles. “How many letters?”

“No, Spence.” You laugh, sliding out of your seat. You tug his sweater down a bit as you walk over, the band at the bottom hugging your thighs. “The eggs. Your eggs.”

He turns, registering the smell of smoke before the sight of the crispy, blackened eggs in his pan. “Oh.”

You reach past him, elbow bumping his as you switch off the heat. Spencer moves the hot pan away from you quickly. He scrapes his sorry eggs into the trash bin, setting the pan in the sink. “Sorry, I got distracted by the crossword,” he tells you, and though he suspects you catch the lie you’re kind enough not to call him out on it.

“It’s fine.” You shoot him another of those brilliant, beaming smiles, taking a piece of cold toast from the toaster. “I love toast. Do you have any butter or jam or anything?”

Spencer winces. “Not really…”

You laugh, giving his arm a reassuring pat. “No worries. I’m down for a trip to the store if you are.” He nods sheepishly, and you press your lips together, thoughtful. “I think I might change first, though.”

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iosagol · 4 months

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The Boy and the Heron, lads

*lying facedown on the sofa*

Spoilers, all the spoilers

So can we talk about the cyclical nature of life and death

The way the past and future are linked to one another and just because the past doesn't get to be the future, it doesn't mean that's bad

"In the future I am dead," Himi says, essentially. "I am not afraid. You have seen me as I want to be remembered, and I have left books for you to open and leave open, and even though I'm not going to be alive anymore, I once was, and I loved you."

The fact that Himi's little sister is no more recovered from the grief than Mahito

she's grieving too over her sister, but her sister's husband is now her husband and did she really want this to happen? and she's having this baby

It's a lot to handle because someone she loves just died and right after this she's bringing a new life into a vicious world in the middle of this war

And she has this boy now that looks like her sister

so she goes into the forest looking for that peace that isn't at home

and just she's lying in that room with those circling…. fans? Fans made of bandages(?) just spinning around her it's a cycle of hurt and patching up wounds and getting hurt again and patching up wounds until her stepson is webbed in it and she's webbed in it and both of them are so in pain and trying to patch up their wounds and it doesn't do them any good

The fact that in order to find his mom, our boy Mahito has to go into the Secondary/Underworld and he has to get a fish and he has to survive and draw water and go looking for this woman and descend into the abyss and come out again and he has to shun power

It gives Spirited Away, almost, except Chihiro had to learn to mature in the sense that she had to consider others and respect and learn manners

she has to respect others

meanwhile Mahito has to learn to forgive himself for not saving someone he loves

he has to respect himself and stop hurting himself and be open to love again

So he's just... Living, for the most part, it seems. He's gutting that fish and eating jam and butter on bread and also soup and he has to bicker with Heron and drink tea and steer a boat and observe the complexities of life and death

He's living and healing

But really, there's no balance to the Secondary/Underworld the greatuncle made because he wanted every creature to thrive within it

And if all you have is life on top of life, then creatures are going to start killing each other

The pelicans are starving because the fish can't be eaten, they turn on the waro-waro, the humans rush to protect the waro-waro, both sides are burned

happiness for one and all is competitive, it's cutthroat

The fact that coming home looking scraped isn't enough, Mahito has to slam a rock into his head

He says it's to prove he fell down, but really that's the biggest mark of human violence

And he does it to himself maybe because he's just so angry with himself for being alive and well, while his mother isn't, and he needs to level that playing field to feel better

Self-flagellation

The overboldness of the dad, how he packs all his human gear and tries to elbbow his way into the Fae and it does him no good

how he tries to solve his kid's problems by again elbowing his way in and that also does nothing

The fact that our boy Mahito realizes something is wrong with the old ladies on sight

something about them is very inhuman

when he first sees them the look on his face he knows something is up because he's meant to go into Faerie and he doesn't have the preconceptions of the adults and he has to see the signs

I ugh

Ugh it's so beautiful, all of it

#the boy and the heron #boy and the heron

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tubbytarchia · 4 months

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Thoughts on the dynamic between TIES Tango and BB Jimmy? Or even the silly rivalry they have in SL? There’s just so much adorable fluffy potential there and I’m just 💭

- 🧚🏼‍♀️

YOU'RE RIGHT THERE IS AND I LOVE THEM. SL ranchers are SO cute and precious its off the charts. Limited Life however...

Ok drawing that hurt a bit so I'm immediately following up with this

Limited Life is so carefree in general it's SO fun and probably the least angst material out of any of the Life series to me (of course there is still plenty, can't underestimate the traffic fandom's ability to find angst in everything) including Tango and Jimmy. They're so fun and you're right that it's a lot of fluff potential, mostly because Jimmy being a "bad boy" is so funny. BUT THE, MAN. TH The fact that this is the one after DL, after Jimmy so desperately wanted to apologize to Tango for how they went out and who knows if he got to do that or not. I love the idea of them reuniting in some temporary afterlife game or dark void following their deaths, but also what if they didn't get to talk... maybe it was only Tango's distant messages "you're still here? It's over. Go home. Go" that reached him and then he just didn't dare to talk about it other than the one time he instinctually called him "rancher" again. I can't help but be filled with angst when I think about LimL ranchers but I trust that where there is angst, hurt/comfort is sure to follow.... If not then I just die I guess

The bad boy sunglasses are very convenient to hide the look with which he gazes upon Tango from a distance... But then oop Tango hops through the nether portal on top of bad boy mansion and Jimmy decides to go for it, to try and harken back to how they used to be to gauge how Tango will react when he goes "The boogie's being chosen, you're here with us now, we have to look into each other's eyes!" (paraphrasing) and then he's like "oh Impulse is here too" lmao and then that's just kinda it. And then TIES blows up bread bridge and auughhghhh you know??? I'm so bad at expressing how I feel, sorry this is a ramble. But I love them so very dearly and I could absolutely imagine inconspicuous moments between them. Like whenever I think of potential LimL rancher fluff my mind goes to this one fanfic about Jimmy being sleep deprived and he just kinda ends up at TIES and Tango puts him to sleep. Stuff like that

And idk what more to say about Secret Life. Their little rivalry is so funny and literally idk if it's the fanart that has absolutely fucked with my head but every time I think about them I imagine them awkwardly flirting on complete accident and just being kind of weird but. very lovable. They had only two notable interactions and those two interactions left me permanently deranged

ANYWAY THANKS FOR THE ASK ANON

#team ranchers #rancher duo #tango tek #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #trafficshipping #trafficblr #I do not want to spend more time looking at the anatomy in that first drawing Im only gonna keep making it worse augg #but if it can nourish you rancherers then Im very happy #god I need to do other things but ranchers on the brain #always #tubby art

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catharusustulatus · 5 months

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Steddie Drabble, TW: child abuse.

Initially, Wayne doesn’t care for Steve. Calls him “the Harrington boy” or “Richard’s son” with contempt, asks if “Richard’s son” is coming over for dinner again and Eddie just rolls his eyes and says “yes, Wayne, STEVE is coming over at 7.” Wayne doesn’t like him because…well, he’s not stupid to judge a book by its cover, he thinks.

But the fifth time Harrington comes over, he brings a bouquet of flowers, and Eddie, well, his cheeks are redder than the spaghetti sauce Wayne’s been stirring, so that’s something.

And then the sixth time Steve comes over, he brings Wayne a Garfield magnet. It’s small, “found it at the thrifty mart with Robin, I’m sorry it’s not brand new…” Steve mumbles, and Eddie is wide eyed and smiling, and Wayne LOVES Garfield. He puts it on the fridge, pats Steve on the back, says “um, thank you son.”

They fall into a pattern, the three of them. Steve comes over for dinner every Friday night after work. He dresses clean and is polite to Wayne, helps with the dishes, sometimes brings bread rolls or licorice or beer or jokes. Eddie starts setting the table. Wayne starts laughing at the jokes. After Steve leaves, Wayne knows Eddie smiles himself to sleep. It’s different, now.

And then the next time Steve is supposed to come over for dinner, he doesn’t show. Eddie had been making macaroni and cheese all evening, grating the cheese carefully as he bopped his head to some metal song, cheerful, and then it was 7 and then it was 8 and then Wayne thought “maybe call him, Ed.”

Nobody answers. When they call again, nobody answers. And Wayne has a bad feeling about it.

It isn’t until almost 11, dinner cold and Eddie pacing, about to radio someone named Robin when Steve’s car pulls up, they know the lights so well. They run outside to greet him and Eddie freezes when Steve starts falling out of the drivers seat, face dark and pained. Wayne jumps into action. Wayne catches Steve and hauls him into the trailer, his living room, and oh god, he’s covered in bruises like he was put through Eddie’s cheese grater, and oh god, Eddie’s broken out into tears behind him.

Steve’s left eye is swollen shut, and his face is purple and bloody. His lip is split and his hair is wild, his shirt is torn, and Wayne wonders what’s underneath the shirt as he gets the first aid kit, wonders how the hell he thought Steven was anything other than an angel.

Eddie gets a dish towel wet in the kitchen and cleans Steve’s face, quiet and crying, and Wayne sets the first aid kit down next to Eddie and makes some coffee. He thinks about talking, doesn’t. Touches the Garfield magnet for good luck. He feels like maybe Steve needs it.

Steve who is holding Eddie’s wrist as he cleans him up, wincing and crying from his good eye. Finally, after a silence that gives Wayne heartburn, Eddie sits back on his heels and says whisper quiet, “your dad?”

Steve gulps, blinks. “My uh, my dad. I was writing you uh, uh a love note.” Eddie looks over at Wayne. Wayne wipes his brow. “But uh, he found it, and your name’s not uh, Edith” Steve lets out a chuff, winces again. “So he asked what was going on, and I told him. I told him. And then he said I had one minute to take it back or he’d make me take it back.” Eddie lets out a small gasp, more like a howl, and sits completely on the floor. Wayne sits down at the table, cold mac and cheese looking like a sick joke. And he’s so mad. Wayne is so, so mad, seeing this young man who so obviously loves his pride and joy, shares in his pride and joy, who brings him apples to make apple pie, he growls out

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Steven, not one thing. You stay here long as you like, hell, don’t leave. We got you, boy.”

And that’s that. Steve crumples in on himself, and Eddie pulls him into a big hug, just holds him, rocks him, coos “a love note, huh, sweetheart? For me?” And Steve nods until he nods off.

The next morning, while Robin takes care of Steve, Wayne and Eddie break into Steve’s room, clear out everything he owns, and slash his dad’s tires. That was Wayne’s idea - the least he could do for a loved one.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie drabble #wayne munson #I just am obsessed with Wayne being like who is this snotty rich kids oops I adopted him #Wayne and Steve forever #also Steve gives me huge scared of my dad vibes #so I just feel like if he came out he’d be beat up #tw: abuse #but I also think that if Steve was hurt #Wayne and Eddie would be like oh yeah? death to you #anyway idk #I just love them your honor

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rainyreading · 3 months

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If you want to (no pressure), could you do one for Theo?

The reader (girl) and Theo are friends in their sixth year and have to babysit, maybe the reader's niece or nephew.

Maybe Theo isn't good with kids and the reader helps him. You can decide all that, I'll leave that up to you.

Thank youuuuuu <3 <3

Babysitting

Theo Nott x bestfriend!sytherin!reader

wc: 1.5k

a/n: requests open

(not my gif)

It was winter break and you were staying at Hogwarts. A lot of your friends were staying at Hogwarts for break as well. You got a letter from your sister asking if your niece could come stay with you. You wrote back and replied with a yes.

Your niece was 4 years old. She was a little ball of fire, who always kept you on your toes. You truly loved your niece and cherished any time you spent together. So you were excited that she was coming to stay with you for a little bit.

Sixth year was equally exciting. It was like you were one of the oldest kids on the grounds, witch felt good. You had amazing friends and your classes were doable. It was hard to imagine next year was gonna be your last year at Hogwarts.

You and your friends decided to have a picnic by the black lake. Everyone in your friend group was there, which you were happy about. Some elves in the kitchen helped you out with the food, so you were very grateful.

"This is nice," you began.

"Yeah it is," Draco responded.

"Makes me want to jump in the black lake," Theo said through a mouthful of bread.

"You totally would," you teased.

"Listen, I have my niece coming to visit soon and I was wondering if you guys could help out, please," you begged.

"Yeah of course," Pansy agreed.

"I'm not good with kids," Theo put out.

"I'm sure your better than you think," you reassured.

"I'm really not," Theo argued.

"Well I still need you to be there for me," you deadpanned.

"Yes mam," Theo saluted.

Eventually your group finished up being around the black lake. Everyone packed up the picnic and carried on with their day. You stayed in the Slytherin common room reading a book by the fire.

Theo came strolling in, spying you curled up on the couch. It was in Theo's nature to bother you. He was always with you and always paling around with you. You were his best friend and he'd like to think he was yours.

"Hey Y/N/N, whatcha reading?" he asked.

You flipped up the book angling it to show him the cover then said, "Pride and Prejudice."

"What's it about?" Theo asked.

"The relationship of a boy and a girl as they try to overcome the titular sins of pride and prejudice in order to fall in love and marry."

"Sounds interesting," Theo stated.

"You're not gonna let me read are you?" you sighed.

"Well when you put it like that it sounds bad, but I just want to hang out with you," Theo smiled.

"Aw you're sweet," you cooed as you ruffled his hair. Theo swatted your hands away.

"What do you suggest we do?" you questioned as you shut your book, after bookmarking it.

"Well I haven't gotten that far yet, Um I don't know we could talk, take a walk, play a prank on Filch, maybe gossip?" Theo suggested.

"Ha ha ha," you laughed.

"You want to gossip?" You were surprised.

"I mean if you want to yeah," Theo shrugged.

"Well I just happen to know Draco asked out Astoria but she turned him down. And he was all like "I'm not taking no for an answer," but she said no. He told me he's not gonna give up though," you explained.

"I bet they will end up together, they would be good together," Theo replied.

"I herd Pansy got a F on her potion essay." Theo shared.

"Oh my god no way really?" You put a hand over your mouth.

"Yep. She was pissed," Theo responded.

"I bet."

"Blaise told me he likes Luna like a lot," Theo began.

"Wait what that's crazy. I never would of guessed," you stated shocked.

"Yeah I know right!"

"What are you two crazy kids up to?" Pansy saunters in and takes a seat next to you on the couch.

"Nothing much, just talking," you say.

"Oh well I hope it's about me," she flips her hair.

"Of course Pans," you laugh.

The three of you all chatted for a while, talking about the break. How excited you were to have time off from classes. The three of you were enjoying the break and being able to be carefree.

——————

The next day you woke up early. Your niece was coming today. You were a little bit nervous and anxious to see how she would get along with your friends. She was adorable though so you knew your friends would love her.

You went to the gate to pick up your niece and she was already there waiting for you. You were excited because you haven't seen her in a long while. You quickly embraced her after you said hellos.

"I've missed you Evie," you greeted.

"Missed you too," Evie responded.

"Come on let's walk to the castle and you can tell me what you have been up too."

Evie told you about her days and how happy she was to be visiting you. She told you about her mom, your sister and she told you about her friends in preschool.

When you got back to the castle you wanted to introduce your friends to your niece. You wanted everything to go smoothly so you secretly prayed it would.

You assumed everyone was in the common room. You made your way to the Slytherin common room with your niece. When you arrived all your friends were sprawled out on the couches and by the fire.

They all looked at your direction when you entered.

"Hi guys. I want you to meet Evie. Evie this is everyone. Everyone this is Evie." You gestured to the group and to Evie.

"Hi Evie it's nice to meet you, I'm Pansy and that's Draco," Pansy spoke up.

Evie waved to both of them.

"Hi Im Blaise," Blaise greeted.

"Hi," Evie whispered.

"And this is Teddy," you introduced.

"Teddy? Hi Teddy!" Evie is exclaimed.

"Hi little one," Theo addressed.

Evie came over to Theo and looked at him curiously. Theo smiled at her. She then reached out her hand and then stopped.

"Can I touch your hair?" she asked.

"Um sure," Theo replied.

Evie touched Theo's hair and then she giggled.

"It's so fluffy!" She laughed.

Theo gave you a look that said "what do I do?" You laughed at his lack of being around children.

"Give her a high five"' you suggested.

Theo raised his hand and said, "High five!"

Evie grinned and slapped her hand on Theo's. Evie took a liking to Theo and you could tell fairly quickly. Evie was one of your favorite family members and you were glad she liked your friends.

"Do you want to take a walk with me?" Theo asked.

"Yeah!" Evie answered.

Pansy, Blaise and Draco decided to stay in the common room. You, Theo, and Evie decided to roam the castle grounds. Evie was a bundle of energy.

"Could I have a piggy back ride Teddy?" Evie asked.

Theo looked to you for approval which you granted.

"Yeah of course," he allowed.

Evie jumped on his back and threw her arms around his neck. Theo grabbed ahold of her legs and shifted her up a little bit.

"Giddy Up horsey!" Evie called out.

Theo laughed and started to run. Evie yelled "weeeeee!" You started to catch up with them happy that Evie was having so much fun. Theo stopped at the top of a grassy hill.

"Can we roll down the hill?" Evie questioned.

"I don't see why not," you shrugged.

"Teddy go first," Evie pushed Theo on the back, urging him to roll down the hill first.

"Ok ok ok I'm going," Theo rushed out.

Theo laid down and then turned around to begin rolling down the hill. You started laughing as he speeded down the hill.

"Your turn Auntie!" Evie insisted.

"Alright settle down I'm going I'm going," you responded.

You got down on the ground and rolled down the hill. You ended down by Theo's feet and he helped you up.

"Come on Evie, tumble on down," you called.

"You guys ready?" Evie asked.

"Yes!" You and Theo both answered.

Evie came tumbling down giggling and getting covered in grass. You applauded her when she reached the end of the hill. She was beaming. Theo also joined in and clapped for her. Evie took a bow.

Eventually you all went back to the castle chatting about anything and everything. Evie held your hand and Theo's hand as she walked in the middle of you guys.

When you guys returned back to the common room Evie was tired and wanted to take a nap. You were so excited that Theo and Evie were getting along you didn't notice that Evie fell asleep on Theo's lap.

"Are you ok?" You mouthed to Theo.

"Yeah she's fine right here," he whispered.

It made your heart melt at the sight. You were thankful for Theo's help today and hoped that Evie had fun today, you certainly did. You hoped the three of you could hang out more and more. You watched as Evie slept completely content resting on Theo.

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theastrical · 12 days

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Genshin men as cats!

What if genshin men turned into cats, what will they be like?

kaeya, diluc, childe, zhongli (x reader)

Fluff fluff (kinda comfort/hurt)

Kaeya: he turned into a cat after accidentally drinking albedo’s “tea” which turns out to be a potion. When he turned into a cat, he didn’t panic, rather, he was happy. He thought that becoming a cat doesn’t sound so bad after all..you’re a big cat lover so if he become a cat, your love for him will double right? not to mention that he’s exactly like your favorite breed, grey british short hair. So he immediately ran back home and meowed in front of the door, his meows is so loud you can barely ignore it. So when you opened the door, your heartbeat stopped. A fluffy cat…with pretty meows….and and…FLUFFY PAWS??? You take him inside and feed him with tuna, you kissed his head thousand of times, rubbing his tummy while he just purrs. Kaeya is already drowning from your love! But suddenly he turned into the normal kaeya again..*sigh*, you were disappointed that the cat is gone….. If you were to pick who to abandon, it seems obvious that kaeya is your choice, the cat? You keep it. Ever since then, kaeya has been trying to turn into a cat, sometimes his failure lead him to an unbearable fever or…a success. You ended up showering him with tons of kisses, pats, and belly rubs that he enjoyed like no one..he’s such a clingy kitty cat. Even when you bite his cheeks, he would meow happily.

diluc: he. is. horrified. He suddenly becomes a cat after eating a snack from sumeru that he was given to as a way for him to know “nature”, well at his defense, he didn’t know it means he would be turned into a cat!!!…It’s ironic that he becomes a cat in the first place. He has a cat allergy…why does he become a cat?! He can be a dog…why a cat?! He was pissed. He doesn’t want his fur to be everywhere…he’s an orange persian cat, a sassy persian cat with huge furs. He hates his catself and decided to hide himself under the table. “Diluc..?” You came inside his room and he immediately meowed..that’s a yes respond from him, you thought?…but how come diluc is a cat?!! You searched for the cat and immediately grab diluc’s tail when you found him. Hugging him. “Why are you hiding…you’ve become so cute after becoming a cat— w-wait?! HUH?! WHY ARE YOU A CAT IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!” You were confused as well and immediately laughed. Diluc was pissed and bite you for that! “Ouch!! Bad boy!”, and you realise. It’s not good that diluc has a huge fur like this…oh no…you have to deep cleanse his room just incase his allergy came back after he turned into a human (presumably). So he kept on purring for himself and snuggles himself behind the cover of the bed, you clean his room like a clean freak and afterwards have some snuggles with him using a “no-fur” jacket. He turned into a human 3 days later and…you seem to love his cat version more since he’s much more of a lovable fluff…

childe: he was turned into a cat after one of his fatui peers experimented on him, it’s safe to assume that he’s okay..it’s just…he has turned into a feline form of himself, a cat... he’s a tabby orange cat, the types of cat that are stereotypically unhinged. He was fine with it, he thought it’s a good idea to have an off schedule while he’s a cat. Well childe is unhinged so being an orange cat is exactly what he designed to be, so it’s fair…and when he gotten home, he didn’t bother to knock, just like a feline, he jumped through the window of your bedroom and goes to the bed while his paws knead the covers, theoretically, making a bread using his paws. When your footsteps march towards the bedroom, he didn’t bother to hide, he just kneads the cover until he’s exhausted and sleep. “AAAAAAAAAAA WHY IS THERE A CAT?”, you screamed ajd he was awakened. He meowed cohesively and sit down like a polite gentleman. He realise you might not understand his meows, he’s a cat now so…he goes to his picture and points out at the picture using his paws, understanding the cat body language you screamed again…”YOU’RE AJAX???”, this time confused…but also…”you look even cuter like this let m—“, with your very own cuteness aggression urge you jump to the bed and hug him. Kissing his cheeks while he meows. He’s being abused by your love and he’s kind of dizzy from it. He meows everytime and his soft paw try to resist because he wants to sleep but…being kissed by you this much makes him…weak. He stole food from other people to eat, it’s fun, he even stole some fish from some old men and brought it back for you to cook, it’s the opportunity to be a criminal while he’s in this cute form…and..he can sneakily make people fell in love with his cute face as he stole their steaks (his favorite indeed). He turned into a human again…months later. Being an orange cat is his life duty…

Zhongli: he’s bored. He already knows how it feels to be a dragon..a woman..and a man. Zhongli has been keeping an eye towards the stray cats near liyue, how come they’re so chonky and so..cute? So many people love them. Even you love them. so without further ado, with his no purpose in daily life for current recent..he becomes a cat. A black cat. A normal black cat with a shiny golden bell on his neck. Everytime he walks and has a stroll, his golden bell rings, people would take an immediate look at him, and pets him. His meow is deep, raspy too, yet the purrings are gentle, it makes the locals fell in love with him. This time he strolls near your favorite place, wanmin restaurant, you love to go there and has been addicted to their crab roe tofu ever since you guys are dating. So he jump to the chair beside you and sleeps…he’s enjoying your presence, even without pets from you. He’s happy just to hear your love for the food there or your presence all focused to that solemn food. you burped and it made his ears twitch. He just wants to follow you around and be with you. Suddenly you recognise the cat beside you and immediately carry it to your lap. “such a lovely black cat…i’ve never meet you before..”..you pat his head and carress his back. Oh my, he loves the back caressing…it feels like he’s being massaged on his old back…he kept on purring. He’s quiet and it makes you love this cat even more. When you carry it again, it just seems not to care and it makes you incredibly attached to him. At the same time he become a cat, you kept on searching for zhongli, still not getting the hint that he’s now a cat because zhongli barely give you a hint!! oh by the way, he turned into his human form only for 3 business days per week, because he wants to be pampered by you and follow you around while you gave him attention and space.

ps: albedo, ayato, alhaitham, and kaveh version of this headcannon coming soon! (I guess if this post reach around 150 likes, i’ll make another one hihi~)

taglist: @dailypenpen , @daydreaming-paradies , @voidlesslove (to be added in the taglist, you may send your @ thru my ask box~ thank you!)

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberivh x reader #childe x reader #zhongli x reader #ajax x reader #childe fluff #zhongli fluff #diluc fluff #kaeya fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact fics #genshin impact fanfic #genshin fics #genshin fanfic #genshin impact

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mrfroggems · 2 months

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Alastor head canons !

• Has heightened senses (sight/smell) due to being a deer demon

• Uses ma'am/sir (southern boy things :3)

• huge mamas boy/ treats older women with respect

• the gentleman ever

• his face constantly hurts from the amount of smiling

• hates when people talk about his ears/tail. Hates being a deer demon

• Cannot/will not use modern technology.

• Had bad vision when he was alive and keeps his monocle on because of that. Despite not needing it anymore

• Can cook!!!!!!

• Soul food enjoyer (Southern Corn bread, Jambalaya, collard greens)

• Slight southern accent

• his breath smells like shit (he eats deer corpses what do you expect)

• LOVES attention. Loves it when people spend time trying to figure him out but will never admit it.

• High-key hates the sound of his voice without the radio filter

#hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #headcanon #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon

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anarchywoofwoof · 6 months

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so today i learned that there’s a piece of graffiti written on the wall of a brothel in Pompeii that reads, “Weep, you girls. My penis has given you up. Now it penetrates men’s behinds. Goodbye, wondrous femininity!”

this lead me down a rabbit hole of Pompeii graffiti, in which i found the following:

From Herculaneum (a bar/inn joined to the maritime baths): "Two friends were here. While they were, they had bad service in every way from a guy named Epaphroditus. They threw him out and spent 105 and half sestertii most agreeably on whores."

From just outside the Vesuvius gate: "Defecator, may everything turn out okay so that you can leave this place."

From the peristyle of the Tavern of Verecundus: "Restitutus says: 'Restituta, take off your tunic, please, and show us your hairy privates.'"

From Herculaneum (a bar/inn joined to the maritime baths): "Apelles the chamberlain with Dexter, a slave of Caesar, ate here most agreeably and had a screw at the same time."

From the basilica: "O walls, you have held up so much tedious graffiti that I am amazed that you have not already collapsed in ruin."

that lead me down a rabbit hole of obscene ancient Roman graffiti such as the following:

Floronius, privileged soldier of the 7th legion, was here. The women did not know of his presence. Only six women came to know, too few for such a stallion.

Chie, I hope your hemorrhoids rub together so much that they hurt worse than when they ever have before!

Theophilus, don’t perform oral sex on girls against the city wall like a dog

Apollinaris, the doctor of the emperor Titus, defecated well here

Restituta, take off your tunic, please, and show us your hairy privates

I was fucking with the bartender

Secundus likes to screw boys

Phileros is a eunuch!

Cruel Lalagus, why do you not love me?

I made bread on April 19th

Gaius Sabinus says a fond hello to Statius. Traveler, you eat bread in Pompeii but you go to Nuceria to drink. At Nuceria, the drinking is better

Anyone who wants to defecate in this place is advised to move along. If you act contrary to this warning, you will have to pay a penalty. Children must pay [number missing] silver coins. Slaves will be beaten on their behinds.

Epaphra doesn’t play football well

You can ride your maid whenever you want. It’s your right

Pyrrhus to his colleague Chius: I grieve because I hear you have died; and so farewell

O walls, you have held up so much tedious graffiti that I am amazed that you have not already collapsed in ruin

My lusty son, with how many women have you had sexual relations?

If anyone sits here, let him read this first of all: if anyone wants a screw, he should look for Attice; she costs 4 sestertii.

Samius to Cornelius: go hang yourself!

If anyone does not believe in Venus, they should gaze at my girl friend

To the one defecating here. Beware of the curse. If you look down on this curse, may you have an angry Jupiter for an enemy

We have wet the bed, host. I confess we have done wrong. If you want to know why, there was no chamber pot

What a lot of tricks you use to deceive, innkeeper. You sell water but drink unmixed wine

The finance officer of the emperor Nero says the food here is poison

Gaius was here – the oldest graffiti, dated 78 BCE; found in Pompeii.

Vote for Isidorus for aedile, he licks cunts the best

i fucking love human beings.

#history #ancient history #ancient rome #text #pompeii

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daechwitatamic · 3 months

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The Price || MYG

banner by @/itaeewon

The Price

Rating: NSWF - minors do not have my consent to interact Genre: Snow White and the Huntsman!au, angst, smut, unhappy ending WC: 8k

Summary: The Queen is responsible for everything you call yours: your home, your job, your freedom. You live without laying claim to anything else, lest the Queen leverage more in exchange for her grace. But the Queen has just named her latest price: the life of the young blacksmith, Min Yoongi.

Warnings: language, drinking, there’s a plague and it’s a problem, reader’s parents died (see the previous warning lol) and there are scenes of her grieving process, reader is a hunter so there’s mentions of animal carcasses and hides, lots of mentions of reader’s big fancy knife, a murder attempt, kissing, nip stim, groping, fingering, clit stim, penetrative sex (protection not mentioned either way), reader on top, angst, unhappy/ambiguous ending

A/N: Part of the Make Me Your Villain collab! Please give the other authors a lot of love!!! Huge huge huge thank you to @/here2bbtstrash for beta-ing!

Mirror, mirror - look and see. Who might take this throne from me? Mirror, mirror - who's the threat? Show me which boy's blood to let.

There are pros and cons to living outside the village. The pros are that you’re mostly left alone - you live by your own laws, most of the time. It’s better this way; you come and go as you please, you don’t worry about latest fashions or gossip, you aren’t under the thumb of any societal niceties or norms. You concern yourself more with what the forest tells you. Bad weather, humans who don’t belong, sickness on the horizon - the forest knows it all, and you know how to listen.

You knew about the plague - in a vague, something isn’t right here kind of way - days before the first villager fell sick. You didn’t see anything bigger than a possum for three days - you knew something was in the air. It was the baker first, then his wife. Now it’s made its way into the castle, the guards and servants falling like flies.

Another pro - you won’t pick up illness from the baker if you make your own bread in your tiny cabin in the woods.

The main con - the only con, really - is that when you make your weekly trek to the castle to present the King and Queen with your scores (deer, mostly, but usually a few fowl too) it takes so damn long to get there.

It would be faster on foot, much faster, but you have to load your kills onto a cart and take the dirt road, which winds and twists and takes its time. Today your cart is loaded: venison, fowl, a few rabbits, even a fox. That had been a good score. The Queen likes furs - she’ll pay you well for it.

But the trip into town once a week is a fair price for your freedom, you think.

A few vendors through the heart of town wave hello as you pass. You lift your hand in response but don’t stop. You’ll shop after, when your cart is empty and your purse is full. For now, you stay on the main road until it changes over from tamped-down dirt to cobblestone to, eventually, flat stone that leads to the bridge over the castle’s moat.

The usual guard, the one who knows your face and always waves you through, isn’t there. You wonder if the plague reached him, if he’ll recover or if they’ll send his body to the sea like all the others.

You show identification, the card nearly illegible due to how many times it’s been folded and stuffed into your shoe for safekeeping, and this new guard waves you on.

As usual, you stop in the courtyard just inside the first set of walls. You hop down and start undoing the straps of the fabric you have over the top of the cart. Two guards join you, and they begin moving your scores down from the cart. Each is weighed and given a quick once-over as a scribe stands to the side recording it all.

“Make sure you mention how nice that hide is,” you tell him, pointing at the fox. “I got that one special, for her.”

The scribe rolls his eyes a little, but you see him peer at the fox and scribble something on his little parchment. When they’re done, your cart empty, the scribe rolls his paper up and leads you up the steps towards the main doors to the castle. You flip one of the guards a silver coin and follow the scribe. As you head up the steps, you hear the sound of your horse’s feet moving across the stone, the cart creaking and groaning behind him, as the guard you paid takes him to be cared for.

Inside, you follow the thick, red carpet into the throne room. You’re surprised to see only the Queen present, but you school your face and drop into a bow anyway, your forehead brushing the soft carpeting.

When you rise, you see the scribe has handed her the parchment, and she reads over the report of your goods. You wait, knowing better than to speak until she has.

“A good week,” she observes.

“Yes, your Grace,” you say, eyes on the carpet. “I was pleased as well.”

“Are you well?” she asks as she signals for her Chief of Coin, who scurries close to the throne and lowers his head to hear her whispers.

“Quite well,” you say automatically, though you’re not sure what exactly she’s asking. Does she mean your health? Your home?

The Chief of Coin makes his way to you and you pull your practically-empty purse from your back pocket.

“You have need of nothing?” she asks.

This would be your opportunity to ask after anything major - repairs on your home, medicine, anything you couldn’t get during your walk back through town.

“No, your Grace,” you say. “I had need of a new blade, but the local smith took my request.”

The local smith and your new blade are one of your stops on your way home.

“I’ve heard from the citadel,” she tells you, and you pull your eyes away from the Chief of Coin to look at her. “They say your brother is doing well. He’s applying himself to his studies.”

When you’d lost your parents, you’d begged to keep your brother yourself, desperate to keep him away from the citadel’s orphanage. You were of age, could handle yourself. You could handle him, too, you’d argued.

The King had considered this. Your family was well-known in the village, and your father had hunted for the crown for many years. Your brother was only about five years out from finishing his schooling.

You were investments, you and your brother.

In the end, the deal had been struck - the crown would see to the rest of his education under the condition that when he finished he’d work for the crown, pay back his debt, begin to build his own name.

And, in the meantime, you’d take over the hunting. You could keep your family’s little cabin out in the woods, away from town. Your brother wouldn’t be apprenticed off to a stranger.

It was an easy deal to agree to.

“We’re grateful for the opportunity,” you say to the Queen. “If the report said anything less, I’d travel there to knock sense into him, myself. He’s at that age. You know.”

You try to bite back a cringe. The Queen might not know. She’d never been able to bear a child for the King.

She smiles at this, thinly. “Very well,” she says, and you take back your now-heavy purse from the Chief of Coin. “Then I shall see you next week. I wish you continued health in the upcoming days.”

You nod your head. “I wish the crown health and longevity,” you say. Head bowed, you miss the way her eyes tighten.

–

You pick up the goods you need - eggs, flour, and the like - on your way through town. You eye the tavern, tempted to stop for a pint. Alas, you are embarrassingly excited to get your new blade, so instead you carry on down the road towards the smithy.

After tying up your horse - though he’s a lazy thing and probably wouldn’t wonder anyway, not with the cart hitched up - you head inside, following the sounds of a hammer striking metal.

You wait until there’s a break in the noise and then shout a hey back towards the open door to let the team know they have a customer.

There’s the sound of a heavy instrument being dropped to the ground, and you catch yourself smoothing your hair back. Stop it, you scold yourself, scowling.

That’s the face that greets the youngest of the smithing team, Min Yoongi, as he steps into the shop, blinking as his eyes adjust to the light.

“Ah,” he says, lips curling into a smirk. “Is it Thursday already?”

“Is my blade ready?” you ask, ignoring both his self-satisfied grin and his question. “Park Jihoon said I could get it today.”

At his boss’s name, Yoongi’s smirk fades until he’s all business again. He turns to the wall, where special orders are tacked. He searches until he finds yours.

“It’s ready,” he grunts, reading the slip of parchment. “Wait here.”

He disappears into the back again, returning with a hefty-looking blade, sheathed in a leather case.

He places it on the counter between you, pulls the blade from its case and turns it over so you can see each side.

You frown. “I didn’t order engraving on the case,” you say, jutting your chin towards the delicate design at the top. It curls in and around itself, all the way around. “I’d better not have to pay extra for that.”

“Ah, but he worked so hard on it!” Park Jihoon says cheerfully, appearing out of the back and clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. You keep your eyes on the knife; Yoongi looks steadfastly at the wall with the orders, a pink flush working up his neck.

“It’s not extra,” he mutters.

“I’m heading to Bridgeport,” the senior blacksmith tells Yoongi. “I’ll be back before sundown. You’ll be okay here?”

“Of course I will,” Yoongi says, disgruntled. Jihoon nods goodbye at you both and moves through the door, leaving you in silence.

“What’s the price?” you ask, placing your purse on the counter and digging for coins. He turns the paper over so you can see what his boss wrote, and you slide him the payment. You work on attaching the blade’s sheath to your belt, ignoring how Yoongi watches you through heavy-hooded eyes.

You know that look. You are ignoring that look.

“Lovely,” you say, once you’re situated and ready to go. You swipe up your purse and toss it once, catching it deftly. “Have fun pounding on metal, or whatever.”

His grin is razor-sharp. “I’d be happy to pound something else, if you want.”

The laugh rips out of you, unbidden and unwanted. “Disgusting,” you tell him, but the laughter takes the bite out of the words. “My God, you ought to throw yourself down the well for that.”

He lifts a brow, his smile turning less dangerous and more open.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “None of that today, thanks. I’ll be off.”

“Come on,” he cajoles, coming around the counter to follow you to the door. “You know you want some. It’ll be such a long ride back here when you change your mind later.”

“Keep dreaming, blacksmith,” you tell him, lips pursing in amusement.

He lays a hand over his heart like he’s wounded. “Blacksmith? You remembered my name just fine last week when you were -.”

“Well, I seem to have forgotten it again!” you blurt before he can finish the thought, pulling the door open. Over your shoulder you call, “Good day!”

His laughter rings out onto the street, following you home.

Regretfully, you have to admit that out of everyone who lives in this village, built out from the castle’s western gate, you know the most about Min Yoongi.

You knew him in passing, of course - before. When you’d ride through this same village on this same cart, your little brother squeezed between you and your father. When you’d stand silently, peeking around your father’s side, while he took payment from the King for his scores. When you’d greet the peddlers and the shop-keepers politely before climbing back on the cart and riding all the way back home.

Yoongi was just an apprentice then. You hadn’t paid him any mind. He was quiet, a bit scruffy, stayed close to Park Jihoon. He was no more interesting to you than the apprentice for the bakery, the tannery, the copywrite. Wasn’t even the best looking out of the bunch, honestly.

He was just there, unassuming. He was there when you’d pass through town on the cart full of your father’s scores, there whenever your family had business with the blacksmith, there when the holidays rolled through and your mother dragged you into town in a dress you hated and shoes that pinched.

There the day your parents’ bodies, along with six others, were loaded onto a barge headed for the sea. There the day your brother joined four more young people from the village as they climbed into a deep blue carriage headed for the citadel.

Yoongi’s dark eyes, cool and undemanding, had been on you as you stood fully alone for the first time in your life.

You hadn’t paid him any attention then, either. You couldn’t pay mind to anything then except dragging yourself through dark day after dark day until, finally, the clouds seemed to part and your new life seemed bearable. And bearable turned into decent. And decent turned into enjoyable.

The seasons turned. The hurts faded.

And you began to pay mind to Min Yoongi.

You began to learn things about him, then - after.

In your time around town, you learned first that he was good at his work - his blades were made well, easily as well as his master’s blades. You learned that he scowled and grunted but hardly ever meant it. You learned that he had a good reputation around the village - was known for helping his neighbors without being asked, known for being polite and keeping to himself. You learned that he had no family either, that the master blacksmith who’d taken him as an apprentice had more or less raised him, too.

Alone with him, you learned that his smile could be razor sharp, one side lifting and eyes glinting in a way that made your pulse sing. You learned that when he meant it, his eyes squeezed shut and his gums showed. His shoulders shook when he laughed. He made the funniest faces when someone said anything he didn’t agree with or didn’t understand. He’d grown strong, his craft shaping his arms and roughening his hands.

You learned that he took whiskey neat at the tavern when he was done working for the day. You learned that he had a smart mouth behind his quiet demeanor, and opinions about everything. You learned what he was willing and able to do with that mouth when he pressed you against the rough wood of the tavern’s side alley, and then later, back in his rooms behind the smithy.

You learned that he fucked rough but loved soft.

And that was where it had to stop.

Because it couldn’t be - but this you knew the whole time.

When he pressed his mouth to yours sweetly, stretching to reach you, brushed one lovely finger down your cheek and whispered, I want you, you knew this: it couldn’t be.

There was no life for you in the village. There was no life for you as someone’s wife. There was no future for you as someone’s homemaker.

Even if he could somehow give you partnership and love without taking away the wildness of your lifestyle - there was no love ready to bloom and grow behind your iron ribs. You had nothing you could give him back. You knew only survival. Only killing and coin. Only the forest and its secrets.

“You can’t have me,” you’d whispered back. “I am not to be had.”

You were surprised when he didn’t fight it. He hadn’t pushed back. He hadn’t held it against you, hadn’t been wounded. He’d accepted exactly what you were willing to give him and asked for nothing more.

You know this, above all else: he’s sweet, and conscientious, and good. Yoongi is good.

You - forest-dweller, hunter, orphan, unmannered, uneducated - don’t deserve him. You aren’t enough for how good he is.

The royal physician’s face says it all.

The Queen purses her lips, her eyes on her husband’s prone form. He meets her gaze weakly, too far gone to mask any of it.

“How long?” she asks, the words clipped.

The physician spreads his hands before him. “Impossible to say, your Majesty. Days, maybe. Weeks, if he can be strong.”

She scoffs. “Days it shall be, then.” She dismisses him with the wave of a hand.

No one is surprised, she thinks. The plague would breach their walls eventually. Only the strong survive - of course it would be her husband who would succumb first, and quickly. He’d never been strong, not like her.

After all, she was the one who tried all these years. She looked and acted the part of a partner. She was faithful. She focused on the crown, on the realm.

Not like him.

He coughs as he shifts on the bed, and she looks at him again. Weak, she thinks again. She can only feel disgust for him, for everything he never gave her.

“You’ll finally get what you always wanted,” he croaks.

She turns to look out the window. The day is grey, dreary.

“It seems I shall,” she agrees. Then she turns and walks closer to her husband’s sickbed - deathbed, perhaps. She drops delicately into the chair at his side and takes his clammy hand in hers.

It might look as if she doted on him. It might look as if she mourned.

“What became of him?” she asks, voice even and unbending. “The boy.”

Her husband’s eyes crinkle with amusement, and the chuckle that rumbles from his chest is accompanied by pained coughing.

“You truly are something, my Queen,” he says, shaking his head. “The boy doesn’t even know.”

He will say nothing else.

The Queen is delivered two things at once, not a week later.

The first, a gilded mirror, promised to possess magical ability.

The second, the expected news of her husband’s passing.

The realm begins its period of mourning, flags lowering, shutters closing. The Queen begins her incantations, alone in the southernmost tower of the keep.

The frame is made of ornately twisted gold, so heavy it takes two of her men to hang it for her. When they pull the dust cover off, she steps back to appraise it.

“Pretty,” she observes, watching her own reflection in the glass - unmagical, unextraordinary.

The swirling, green-hued mist doesn’t appear before her reflection until her men are dismissed, the door closing and leaving her alone.

Your Majesty, the mirror intones, the voice coming from the depth of the mist. Your wish is my command.

The Queen pauses, considering. The throne, the throne - hers, finally, only hers.

Unless.

The King’s last words to her ring through her head - the boy doesn’t even know.

She raises her chin and chants,

“Mirror, mirror, look and see…

Who could take this throne from me?

Mirror, mirror, who’s the threat?

Show me which boy’s blood to let.”

The mist, green and growing, takes over the glass. The Queen’s fists clench tightly at her sides.

The mist clears. The Queen lets out a laugh, short and bitter.

The blacksmith’s boy smiles shyly in the glass, one hand coming up as if to hide his face.

The blacksmith’s boy. The king’s bastard. Her only threat, the only other claim to her throne.

Your next trip into town isn’t with a cart full of venison and fowl. Instead it rings more true to the holidays of old, with your mother in charge. You wear black and a scowl, just as you did then.

The funeral services for the King threaten to last the full day, maybe into the night. You wish you could abstain, but if ever there was an event you were obligated to attend - this would be it.

You’re not sure what the King’s death means for you - for your brother. Will the Queen uphold the bargain? Does she still want your brother’s counsel, someday, when he’s of age? Without the King’s affection for your father, will she continue to allow you to live freely as part of the arrangement?

You sit alone in the church pew; rather, you’re surrounded on either side by strangers. You know Yoongi’s in the crowd somewhere - you can feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head. You don’t turn to look for him. What good would it do?

It’s well after dark when the town begins to file out into the night. Your stomach growls, and you ponder if you should stop for a hot meal at the tavern before making the trek back through the woods or if you can hold out until you’re safely back at home.

You’re stopped on your way out the door by a guard reaching across you, blocking your path.

“Her Majesty requests your audience,” he says gruffly, and you feel the hairs on your neck stand at attention. Your audience?

It can’t be good. You’re sure of it.

You don’t meet her in the throne room as you have in the past. Instead, the guard leads you to a small chamber off the chapel, a nondescript little room with no decor, only a table with a candelabra lit in the center.

She’s seated, and it’s so cramped in the room that it’s hard to properly bow, but you do your best.

“Is my brother well?” you blurt out as soon as the guard has closed the door behind you. It was the first, biggest concern you had - you couldn’t hold it in. Had something happened in the citadel?

She inclines her head, shrouded in darkness. “I asked you here because I need something done. You seem, somehow, to be my best option.”

You duck your head, flooded with relief. “I’m at your service, as always.”

And you are. You owe the crown everything - the home you were allowed to keep, your brother’s education, your income. Your freedom, as conditional as it is.

The Queen seems to think before she speaks, and when she does each word is short and deliberate.

“There’s someone I need gone,” she says, her voice giving away no emotion. No sign of grief from the widow, no sign of trepidation from the new ruler, no sign of regret from the human asking you to take a life. “A threat to my throne. I’ll pay five times our normal scale. And I’ll pay you for your discretion, as well, on an ongoing basis.”

You respond with silence. You can’t process quickly enough - you don’t know what to tell her.

The only thing you can tell her is yes. She holds your whole world in her hands.

But if you tell her yes, then you have to do it. Can you kill a person, can you pretend it’s no different from cutting a rabbit’s throat?

Could you tell her yes and then leave? Vanish into the forest? What would become of your brother, if you did? Would he be responsible for your sins?

Five times your normal price could do a lot for you. You could send finer clothes to your brother, help pay for his books, maybe even a little spending money. You could fix up the cabin - patch the roof where it leaks, reinforce the cellar the way you’ve thought about for years.

And payment for your silence - ongoing? For how long, forever?

None of it matters. You can’t say no to the Queen.

“Yes, your Majesty,” you hear yourself say. Your stomach is a block of ice, turning over and over with the tide. “I am yours to command.”

You know it. She knows it.

“The blacksmith’s boy,” she says coolly, and you aren’t even surprised. It’s like part of you knew, somehow. Part of you has been waiting for this ending all along. Isn’t this exactly why you’d never let him get too close? There was never a happy ending in the stars - not for you.

She accepts your silence as acquiescence and adds, “Tonight.”

“Tonight?” you repeat, voice coming out too wispy.

She meets your gaze, still cold. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” you say, the only correct answer. But your mind is scrambling far away, getting ahead - what weapons do you have on hand, how will you do this -

“You didn’t strike me as softhearted,” she says, full of disdain.

“I’m not,” you defend. It’s just that it’s Yoongi. Yoongi, who sees your sharp edges and smiles because he knows firsthand how much sharp edges are worth. How - how - how can you? How can you pretend it’s just a hunt, just a necessity, when you know how his mouth tastes, how he looks at you like you’re something?

Her even look turns darker, a shade closer to a frown. “I know you have the stomach and skill to kill. And I know you dally with him. He’ll follow you - take him to the woods and be done with it.”

You haven’t been as discrete as you thought you had. You wonder who else in town knows about whom you dally with.

Not that it will matter, after tonight. Not if you follow orders.

Not when you follow orders.

“Yes, your Majesty,” you say, head bowed.

There’s no other correct answer. Your freedom had always had a price.

–

There’s some poetic irony, you think, in killing Min Yoongi with the blade he made just for you.

Your mind is stuck on this, circling it, unable to let go, as you approach the smithy.

The lights are out - there’ll be no late-night projects, not during the official mourning for the King. You hope Park Jihoon, whose quarters are above the smithy, just across the yard from Yoongi’s tiny cabin, sleeps deeply.

You know Yoongi keeps a key in the eaves above his front window; you’ve seen him retrieve it no less than a half-dozen times - usually he’s reaching for it, his shirt rising and showing a slip of belly that you can’t help but run your hands across as he laughs and tells you to be patient.

You reach it on your own, tonight. You let yourself in as silently as possible, closing the door behind you, placing the key gently on his tiny, wooden table. His bed is in the far corner of the room, and although the fire in the hearth has gone out, you can see the lump of blankets through the darkness that show you his form.

You approach quietly, as you would approach a potential score, letting yourself slip into the mindset of surviving the forest.

You hesitate when you stand over him. He sleeps on his back, the light from the streetlamps outside casting flickering yellow over his delicate features. His eyelids flutter. Next to his head, his fingers twitch.

If you strike true, this could be over in an instant.

His eyes slide open, and a hazy smile drifts over his face. “Am I having a very good dream?” he murmurs. His eyes trail down your form and freeze on the knife in your hand. The smile fades, and his eyes meet yours again, a question in them. “Or perhaps a very bad one?”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. Then, you move at the same time - you lunging and plunging the blade into the spot where his heart lay, and him rolling sideways and hitting the floor with a thud.

You yank your blade free from where it pierced Yoongi’s empty mattress and wheel to follow him as he scrambles upright and towards the door.

You should’ve locked it. You shouldn’t have apologized, your voice and your regret giving him the split second to bolt.

You follow him at a sprint, panting hard, as the fool runs barefoot through the smithy’s yard, heading for the forest.

Your forest.

It’s overcast tonight, threatening rain. No moon or stars to guide you, you follow Yoongi as he zigs and zags blindly through the trees. You have the advantage. You know where you are, even in the dark.

It’s primal, as you forge deeper and deeper through the underbrush, just sinew and silence as you run. Wind whistles around you as you focus on breathing, focus on following the crunch of Yoongi’s wild path. The earth seems to rise up to meet each footfall with a jolting slap. The darkness seems to spur you on like it knows you need this, pressing you onward, telling you, hurry, hurry.

If you can herd him towards the east, you can cut him off at the ravine - he won’t be able to do it barefoot, not without stumbling, not without cutting those bare feet on the sharp rocks. You pick up the pace, emboldened by the plan, knees and elbows pumping as you close in.

Without warning, Yoongi stops short and wheels around on you, feet skidding a little on the loose needles that coat the forest floor. It’s so unexpected that the inertia carries you to him before you can tell your legs to quit. Before you can slow, before you can turn, he grabs you by the arms and slams you backwards into the thick trunk of an oak tree, hard enough to knock the wind out of you with an audible gasp.

You’re surprised enough that the knife drops from your fingers, and he wastes no time gripping you even tighter and throwing you to the ground, instantly dropping his body over yours and holding you down as best he can as you struggle. The blade lies just out of reach, taunting you, and you reach up and stretch as hard as you can to wiggle your fingers closer, but Yoongi roughly jerks your arm away.

You’re gasping for breath as you struggle beneath his weight, trying to keep your vision clear. This wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to have to chase him, have to fight him. You aren’t used to this - the deer don’t fight back.

“Why?” he pants heavily, his whole body heaving with each inhale and exhale. Sweat runs down his neck from the curled, damp edges of his hair. His eyes are wild, confused above you.

“Do you know who your father is?” you respond in answer, and the question surprises him so much that he leans back, like he’s trying to get a better look at you.

It’s all you need. You use your feet and your core strength to stretch just past where you couldn’t reach with his full weight on you, and your fingers close around the blade’s handle. In a flash, you have the sharp side pressing to the pulse point on Yoongi’s neck, hard enough that you know he can feel the sting, your other hand curling in his shirt and holding him still. His eyes widen and he freezes, straining to hold himself up and away from you.

“If you move I’ll do it, and it won’t be quick,” you hiss, teeth gritted so hard you’re sure they’ll crack. Your heart slams in your chest, adrenaline sending tingles clear down to your toes. You’re dizzy with fear. You aren’t sure what’s scarier - actually doing what you’re meant to, or having to report that you didn’t.

You’re both stuck there - a tableau, an oil painting, frozen for eternity, never moving on from this moment. A million possibilities stretch on as Yoongi’s pulse beats visibly against the knife he’d sharpened for you just days ago.

You feel like you’re floating outside your body; you can’t feel any of it - not the knife’s handle against your palm, not Yoongi’s hips still pinning yours, not the sticks and stones beneath your spine, not the sticky humidity of a night on the precipice of storm. Not your own thrumming, frightened heartbeat.

You know you can’t do it - not this way. Not like this, not with his eyes on yours, steady, as if he’s not staring down his death. Not like this, looking into his face and remembering the first time you were under him this way, remembering every time after that. Your hand trembles as you will yourself not to pull the blade away.

But he knows. Yoongi’s always called your every bluff, has always been perfectly capable of shooting you a knowing half-smile and pushing right past your blustering, always able to find the person on the other side of the facade - the person who’s scared,confused, alone.

“No you won’t,” he murmurs, low, and there’s nothing accusing or mocking in it. He’s simply telling you what he knows.

Slowly, carefully, he lowers his face closer to yours, so deliberately that the knife slides harmlessly along his skin until he’s clear of it. He presses his lips to yours, uncertain at first, then with more insistence when you don’t push him away.

The fear and adrenaline crash through you in time with a not-so-distant crack of thunder, blinding you, rendering you thoughtless and animalistic. You drop the knife with a thud, barely aware that you’re doing it, your hand coming instead to tangle in his loose hair, clutching it tightly at the base of his neck and pressing his head closer to yours, kissing him deeper, needing to absolutely drown in his kiss.

He grunts at your enthusiasm, nipping at your bottom lip before diving into you again, licking deep into your mouth and pressing his hips down into yours in rhythm with the kiss. You move with him desperately, the quiet of the woods scattered by your combined gasping breaths, tiny sounds of pleasure slipping through the cracks in your armor, the wet sounds of your mouths coming apart and meeting again hungrily. Despite the earth solid beneath you, you feel like you’re spinning. You clutch him tightly, one hand in his hair and the other arm coming around his shoulders, tethering him to you.

He’s the only thing keeping you here, in the present, not skittering off to somewhere safe inside your head.

You let him hold you there, pressed between him and the unyielding ground below you, channel all the rushing adrenaline into how you meet his fiery kisses, pressing your mouth hard back against his like it’s a battle, into how you roll your hips against his, thrilling at feeling him hard and ready for you. But for all the intensity, for the dizziness sweeping over you, neither of you rushes - you kiss for so long that your lips tingle, your core throbs, the night grows blacker, the thunder tiptoes closer.

You swipe your tongue over his familiar lips, whining in your throat when he opens for you again, welcomes you in, rocks against you and closes his eyes against the sting as you unconsciously tighten your fingers in his hair.

Then he breaks the kiss, pulls himself free of your grasp, nudges his nose to the underside of your jaw until you lean your head back, breathing hard, giving him room to attach teeth and lips to the skin of your neck.

He gathers a bit of skin and worries it between his teeth, muttering, “You won’t kill me. No one else can make you come undone like I do.”

The sound that tears out of you is half laugh and half desperate groan. “Prove it, then,” you goad, fingers finding the hem of his shirt and pulling the edge towards you. He releases the spot on your neck long enough to let you pull the material over his head. Then he sits back on his knees between your legs and looks you over, one hand absently sliding down the front of his trousers, pressing relief into his waiting cock.

“Yours,” he says, tone steely. You find your own hem with shaking fingers. Distantly, there’s a flash of lightning, illuminating the canopy of tree branches above you before plunging you into darkness again. You pull your top over your head and drop it next to his, leaning back on your elbows.

All thoughts of what you’re supposed to do here have left you; there’s only hands-shaking adrenaline and instinct driving you to give in to your desires and pursue what you want - Yoongi, Yoongi, more of Yoongi.

“Trousers, too,” Yoongi tells you, voice quiet. His fingers are on the string of his own trousers, but his eyes are on your exposed chest. Hungry.

You do as he says, untying your bottoms and pushing them away with your feet and waiting for his next move. The night isn’t cold, but you shiver. The forest, your forest, feels like a sanctuary, like it’s wrapping around the two of you and keeping you safe from everything outside. Like if you stayed in here, together, you might be safe from her after all.

But you know that’s a lie.

You push the thought away by coming up on your knees and approaching Yoongi, who’s still kneeling, too. You press your chest to him with a shudder as you reach to kiss him again. He gives a quiet, happy noise low in his throat and you answer with a hum as you lick into him again.

You slip a hand between your bodies and find him heavy and leaking. He presses into your touch with a nearly-silent keen that you manage to catch, and you trace your fingertips up his length, playing in the wetness you find waiting for you at the tip, then pulling that wetness down to the base again. You repeat the motion, touch featherlight, and listen to Yoongi’s breathing hitch and catch and sigh as he closes his eyes and enjoys it. He’s silky against your fingertips, skin like satin even here.

Yoongi trails kisses down your jaw, making a clear path towards your neck, and he skims a hand up your side and past your ribs, cupping one breast and rubbing his thumb roughly over your hardening nipple. You gasp, fingers twitching against his length, which spurs him on. He runs his knuckles lightly over the bud, then takes it gently between his thumb and forefinger, giving it an experimental roll. Your gasped ah turns into a liquid moan and he does it again, harder. You keen, a note of complaint in it, as he repeats the movement that is somehow both too much and not enough.

You wrap your hand fully around him, done teasing him with barely-there strokes, and roll your wrist once, twice, three times, his low grumbling reply music to your ears. He’s still mouthing at your neck and he switches hands, igniting sparks as he gently pinches the other nipple instead. Then he reaches and bumps your wrist out of his way as he cups your sex and spears you on his middle finger.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you whine, rocking into his hand, trying to take the digit just a little deeper.

He must hear the desperation in your tone or sense it in the way you clench around his single finger, because he takes mercy on you and presses a second finger in beside the first. You sigh, still rocking against his hand, as he fucks into the spot in your front wall that makes your eyes drift closed and your toes curl up. You abandon his cock, bringing your hands to his shoulders, hanging on to keep yourself upright. When he presses his thumb against your clit you groan, loud and long, no one to hear you, and let your head fall back.

“That’s right,” he murmurs, plunging his fingers in and out of your wet heat. You can hear it each time he pushes them back in, the sound ringing in the silent woods, the only competition the approaching rolls of gentle thunder.

He works you up until you’re panting, your forehead dropping to rest against his collarbone, your hips in constant motion as you seek more. Your arms are looped around his neck, though you don’t remember starting to hold him, and your fingers find the ends of his long hair, tugging lightly in time with his motions. Occasionally his thumb circles your clit, causing your hips to jerk, but the angle stops him from keeping it constant. He pulls his hand away, and you take a bracing breath, coming back to your senses as the sensations fade.

He drops back from his knees, one arm behind his head as he lays back. He locks his eyes on yours as he strokes himself, his teeth toying with his bottom lip.

“Come on, then,” he prompts, his hand languid and lazy on his cock. Your body buzzes as you climb over him and sink down, letting him fill you, stretch you, break you into pieces. You ride him hard, one hand splayed on his flushed chest for balance, as around you the wind picks up, the leaves on the trees fluttering.

Yoongi’s eyes screw closed and his head tips back, even as his hands continue to guide your hips through each rise and fall.

You slow, savoring the drag against your walls, savoring his pretty skin beneath your fingers, savoring the grunts and hitched breaths he’s trying to hold back.

You could have loved Yoongi. In another life, where you had chips to bargain with. In a life where you fit into place within the village, where wild wasn’t as necessary to you as air. Even if the Queen had never called for Yoongi’s head - this life never meant for you to love him.

This is what you think about as you lightly rake your nails down his chest, watching him squirm beneath you. You think about all the times he’d been on the edge of saying it.

You think about all the times the feeling had risen up in you, as warm as a patch of sunlit floor, and you’d had to blow it away like an errant dandelion seed.

Maybe you do love him. You just can’t forget - not for a second - how little it matters.

The knife sits where you’d dropped it before undressing, just past Yoongi’s head.

You could probably reach it now.

Yoongi seems to sense the change in your motions and cracks an eye open, his fingers on your hips loosening.

His gaze follows yours. A flash of lightning makes the metal shine for a split second, and then you’re surrounded by the sudden patter of falling rain.

“Guess we better hurry,” Yoongi mutters, reaching up to grip the back of your neck and pulling you down so your chest is flush with his.

All thoughts leave your mind as he hammers into you from below - the knife is forgotten. Your feelings are forgotten. The rain, starting to muddy up the ground around you, forgotten.

You cum around him in silence, jaw clenched, fingers digging into his biceps. The groan he lets out as you squeeze around him in waves is drowned out by a growl of thunder that feels like it’s right above you, all around you.

Yoongi pumps into you with abandon, suddenly losing the rhythm he’d created. He gives two more shuddery thrusts and then lets his arms flop to the ground with a contented sigh.

For a second, you both lay there, sweat-slick and panting. Another lightning splits the sky, and the rain comes harder. He slides out of you and you wiggle until you’re laying just next to him instead of on top of him.

You can’t stop looking at him. He seems determined not to look at you.

The rain washes everything away - the smell of sex, your sweat, your affection, your sadness, your pride.

“My father,” he murmurs beneath you, and you go deathly still. “Yes, I knew.”

You swallow, brush rainwater from your brow. “So does the Queen,” you say back. An explanation, and an answer to the why he’d leveled at you an hour ago.

He nods slowly, expression clearing with understanding.

You feel no absolution for it.

Finally, he leans his head back again, his bangs flopping heavily now that they’re saturated with rainwater, and eyes the knife.

You sit up. He brings his eyes to you and watches silently - as if he accepts whatever move you make. As if, should you reach for the metal, he wouldn’t fight you this time.

“Go.” The word tumbles roughly onto the inch of mud between you. You don’t remember making the decision to say it.

He sits up, elbows and shoulders caked with mud. But all he does is watch you, wait for you to change your mind.

“Go,” you repeat, meaning it. Now that you’ve said it once, now that the decision was made, you know it’s the right one. “I’ll tell her it’s done.”

You could never kill him. You both knew it all along.

He dresses wordlessly, and you do the same, pulling your top back over your head and tying up your trouser string. When you look up, he’s standing in the rain, watching you.

You stoop and grab the knife he’d made you. You grip it tightly in your hand, refuse to meet his eyes.

He’s not challenging you, not questioning you - and that, in itself, feels like a slap.

“You can’t come back,” you say, as evenly as you can muster. When he just looks at you, infuriatingly silent, you add, “You can’t. Okay? If she - she can never know.”

“I know,” he says, and then he gives you a long, searching look. He’s drenched now, and your hands itch to push his set hair away from his face, to use your thumbs to chase raindrops - you think - away from his lashline.

Then, choked, he offers, “You could -”

“Don’t,” you bite out, stopping him before he can make you any kind of offer. You can’t. You can’t go with him. You can’t disappear into the night. Your brother is counting on you. You won’t let him pay for your sins.

Yoongi shakes his head. He takes another step closer. Your fingers tighten on the knife’s handle.

“Y/N, I -”

You raise the knife above your head in a flash, eyes going wide in fury.

“Fucking go!” you bark.

He holds up his hands, takes a few steps backwards, giving up his quest to make this harder than it needs to be. Lightning illuminates him and above your head, the blade shines for a split second before everything is cast into inky darkness again.

When your eyes adjust to the darkness, trees around you forming a shape again, he’s gone.

You don’t follow him, and you don’t return to your cabin. You sink to your knees in the mud, dropping the knife onto the ground, and sob into your hands, the noise swallowed by the flurry of rain and the intermittent cracks of thunder.

—

You sleep. You hunt. When the time comes, you bring your scores to the Queen atop your wagon.

She doesn’t ask you about Yoongi. You don’t offer her anything, just thank her for her grace routinely when she orders your purse to be filled.

You don’t stop at the tavern on the way back home. You don’t stop at any of the shops - not this time. You don’t trust yourself to act right if Yoongi’s disappearance gets brought up. You don’t trust that no one will do the math that he vanished four nights ago, and now you’re a hollowed shell who can’t form words.

The townspeople have seen you grieve before. They’d know what they were seeing.

The next trip is easier, and the one after that even more. The Queen never thanks you, not that you expected it, but you start finding an extra purse of coins in your wagon each time you return to it after bringing in your kills.

The price for your silence. The price for what she thinks you’ve done.

It hurts the most when your wagon passes the smithy, but you keep your eyes on the cobblestones and your hands on the reins and eventually the hurt fades along with the village as you get farther and farther away.

The seasons turn. The hurts fade. You send extra money to your brother. You sleep. You hunt.

Eventually, you stop waking up from nightmares that feature the glint of metal. You stop waking up trying desperately to cling to your dreams as fruitlessly as clinging to smoke, left with only damp places on your pillow and the memory of a low, throaty chuckle ringing in your ears.

Eventually, you can ride past the smithy without the pang in your chest. You can stop for a pint without watching the shadows for the appearance of a gummy smile. You can laugh when the bartender cracks a joke, can sound like yourself when you ask the baker’s daughter how she’s been faring.

It is after one of these trips, deep into color-saturated autumn, that you return to your cabin with wagon empty and purses full.

Something isn’t right. You freeze, casting your eyes around the forest, but it holds its secrets tight.

On the ground in front of your door, illuminated by the late afternoon sunlight, is a brand new, shining blade.

thank you so much for reading!!! i really really like this one and i hope you do too!! <3

#bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi angst #fairy tale au #fic: the price

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aetheternity · 2 years

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He loves me, I love him not

Synopsis: When he tells you he loves you and you don't say it back. {So like forever ago I don't remember how long, there used to be this Tiktok trend where a person wouldn't say I love you back to their partner and film their reaction.} That's the idea behind this but it's not really a modern au. The boys aren't being filmed. You're just messing with them.

Disclaimer: No pronouns used/gender specified. Not a modern au just straight up fluffy stuff with a small amount of angst in Chongyun's part.

Characters: Aether, Chongyun, Tighnari, Venti, Scaramouche.

A/N: I want to write a new 5wirl post so bad but I also doubly realized how much I enjoy writing for Tighnari. So you guys will have to suffer till I get bored of him.

Venti

☆ He says he loves you so often that your reply has become second nature. So much so that you worry you might not be able to trick him like this.

☆ Yeah part of it was because he was the absolute cutest and sweetest boyfriend ever. But the far louder side of your brain nagged on about how you'd end up hurting his feelings.

☆ Though you pushed those worries aside and did it regardless. It was just a test of sorts after all: "I love you." He mumbled sweetly into your ear as the two of you sat side by side, feasting on apples and bread for breakfast.

☆ The words sat on the tip of your tongue, an equally affectionate reply replaying in your brain. "Mhm." You settled on.

☆ His head swiveled towards you so fast you could've sworn it'd disconnect from his body. Though it only took a glimpse of the corner of your eye for a small smile to stretch across his face.

☆ "Not feeling it this morning, Windblume?" His words so close to your ear cause the hairs against your neck to raise and you let a little shudder flow down your spine. "Or maybe you just feel like teasing."

☆ "Ven.." You cut off at the feeling of his lips on your cheek.

☆ "It's ok." He giggles "Though if you ever genuinely don't feel like saying it back, don't worry I understand."

☆ "I love you too, so much."

Tighnari

☆ Listen he rarely ever says these three words. Not because he doesn't feel as strongly for you as you do him or because he's heartless. He just doesn't want to overuse the phrase. He thinks it should mean something every time.

☆ And it's been a while since he last said it so at this moment he just stops, deadpanning in the doorway.

☆ No words to break the awkward tension just a full blown not blinking staring contest.

☆ "What?" You gaze back at him innocently

☆ "Don't play dumb, I believe I said something very romantic and heartfelt a moment ago."

☆ "Did you??" You continue to tease, pulling a confused expression for effect.

☆ And yeah sure you could spend the whole day trying not to let a grin slip as his unamused grimace gets darker. But of course you slip and say it back. Just be prepared for him to be the petty bastard he is and revoke kissing privileges later.

☆ What do you mean he's dodging your kisses? He's just busy right now. Guess you'll have to wait till he stops finding your annoyed huffs funny.

Aether

☆ He says it at least once every time he sees you for two reasons: One the constant fear that the next time he sees you will be the last. And two he's just naturally affectionate in that way.

☆ So yeah: this time when he says it and he's met with pure silence he's more than a little worried. He's not exactly looking at you right now. He's cleaning the last of the dishes in the sink, while you dust the living room only a few feet away.

☆ He ponders over whether or not you heard him or maybe in fact he just hadn't heard you. So he just repeats himself, waiting a bit anxiously for a reply. Though this time he notices the quick flinch of your shoulders and the way your cheeks puff only to relax a second later.

☆ Suddenly your little game is exposed. He dries his hands, walking up behind you quietly enough that you don't hear him coming.

☆ He soon enjoys the wriggle of your hips in his grasp as he pulls you off the table you'd been standing on. Gently he lowers you to the ground his kisses swiftly covering every inch of your face. A soft murmur of "I love you" pressed into every spot on your face until all you could do was breathlessly wheeze his name.

☆ Now you can't help but state the words back outright. Your beaming grin and adoring eyes giving you away before you could even utter it.

☆ But Aether's, Aether so of course neither of you are moving from that spot till he gets the appropriate amount of kisses and love you's back.

Chongyun

☆ Another one who doesn't say he loves you often but he knows what displaying those emotions can do to him plus he's a little shy. It's ok you live with it.

☆ Today had been sort of rare though. He'd been off the whole day, just meditating during the early morning and training until the sun had finally set.

☆ Unlike Xingqiu, you didn't play pranks on Chongyun. Actually you were the one who normally took care of him after Xingqiu's latest prank. But you felt a sort of playful mood arise. Perhaps not seeing your boyfriend today had stirred up some energy in you.

☆ He slipped into his side of the bed like he always did, reaching out to intertwine your hands. "Goodnight Name, I love you." He whispered

☆ "Goodnight, Yun." You shifted closer to him, eyelids drawing shut.

☆ You can feel every shift of the mattress as Chongyun wiggles about, hand holding yours a little tighter and then suddenly everything stills.

☆ You almost pretend to wake up but he takes the choice away, taping your shoulder.

☆ "Name, Did I upset you? You always say you love me back.." His eyes shift between each of yours as he nibbles the popsicle. (You honestly can't imagine where he got it from.)

☆ "Yun.."

☆ "Is it because I didn't spend the day with you? I probably should've have, shouldn't I.. I didn't mean to be a bad boyfriend.. I'm more accustomed to training on days off and-"

☆ And of course you have to kiss his cheek and talk him down because he won't stop worrying.

☆ "I'm so sorry Yun. And I do love you."

☆ The light pink dusting his cheeks makes the pang in your chest lighter as you pull the blankets up to cover you. (Not him cause heat.)

☆ "I am thankful you were just pranking me." He mutters into your collarbone. "But next time if you do can you just do it the way Xingqiu does instead?"

☆ If you love him at all you will never do that shit again.

Scaramouche

☆ He's surprisingly spontaneous with how infrequently he'll tell you he loves you. Someday's he'll say it when he first sees you and then again at night. Other days you won't hear the phrase uttered at all.

☆ To be fair It's always a little shocking to hear how easily those words come to him no matter how long the relationship has gone on for.

☆ He's just sort of laying in your lap when you decide to test him. His head cradled by your thighs. Your hands carding sections of his hair away from his closed eyes.

☆ A little sigh falls off his lips before those affectionate words fall off his lips. You opt for pure silence however. Keeping a blank expression as best as possible as his eyes soon fixate on you from his spread out angle.

☆ "Didn't you hear me?" He asks

☆ "Hmm?"

☆ His hand reaches up to take your wrist, "I said, I love you."

☆ "Ok, heard you loud and clear." You give him a thumbs up.

☆ You only get a split second view but his grimace is instantly noticeable. "You can be so annoying sometimes."

☆ "Scara wait!" You can't hide your giggles as you trot along behind him but he doesn't even bother to stop walking.

☆ Don't worry he's already accepted your apology. He just really hates your little pranks.