#I love being alive and well enough to be able to learn and grow this way
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that spoken word i wrote back in gr 9 for english class about relating to the moon is still to relevant in the present n i love it so much
#🌙.rambles#i'm still proud of being able to write smth like that back then#i was relating us all to the moon w our imperfections n beauty but#i loved how around the end i wrote like. 'we don't have to be as beautiful as the moon' bcs 'we're only human after all'#i really love the thought in that. being the kind of people that we humans r capable of being bcs we're mortals#'the world is vast and the night is still young.'#honestly wnvr i think about how fast time's going by. when i look deep into my heart n soul i still see a young dreamer#no matter how old i get i aspire to always keep those dreams n words alive.#if i keep the curiosity of the kid with me then i think i'll be able to really learn n understand life in the way that best defines me#i love the poetry in this spoken word tho of#relating ourselves to these celestial beings. but in the end it's incomparable yet bcs we're human. n that's enough. that's alright#one day i hope to be well enough to write again. i do write from time to time but i'm a bit tired to really complete stuff#that's alright. i can be kind to myself. it's enough to go at our own pace#it hits different reading old stuff from before bcs i wld rlly just dream#but as i'm growing older n older i see how it reflects more n more on my reality#'before I know it / it’s already dawn.' i wrote that metaphorically back then but now i literally even stay awake till dawn ;;#even in pain i always write about how beautiful the world is. n that makes me realize that i'm still a kind n good person at heart#i do need to work on accepting my faults n a healthier n kinder manner but. yeah. i love people like me after all.#there's a reason why i love the moon so much as well. it's just rlly so poetic n beautiful to me#around the world there's ppl i've met n known that have associated me (a stranger from somewhere out there in the world) w the moon#i'm thinking abt life again n how beautiful it is. of all its possibilities n of all the connections n meaning we make#n us all as well. i know for me i really am a dreamer at heart. i'll always keep that. even if i'm weird or wtvr then who cares?#i'll be myself. /i/ am the one in control of my life n i'll decide how i choose to see my world. and live the way i want#sure it's lonely bcs most ppl out there aren't like us in this particular way but. we'll find that comfort. we deserve that.#who are we to be confined and restrained in this wide vast world?#how tragic it is to wish to hide. we don't have to be so open but we're all deserving of being known and understood#aaaa i'm probably still gna be a bit distant bcs i'm tired still but that's alright! it's ok to focus on myself!#i'll do the rest when i'm ready. for now this is the next step i choose to take. small steps at a time. that's enough for now.#oh yeah this is the certain peace in myself i feel that makes me perform my best. i feel like myself again right now#n honestly all this keeps on cycling n repeating but it's alright. i learn more each time. n i'll keep on forging ahead unto tomorrow
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— ENDLESS WINTER. a Christopher Bahng fiction
Christopher Bahng x f. reader
TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst
WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing
WORD COUNT. 12k words
AUG'S NOTES. if there’s ever been a more spontaneous fic in history it would be this… every sentence is write is purely self indulgent…. (genuinely a written version of the stories i make in my head while laying in bed)
SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.
alternatively :
Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.
Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.
Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.
Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.
Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.
She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.
Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.
Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.
Growing, learning.
Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.
However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.
A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.
Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.
Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.
Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.
Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.
The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.
The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.
Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.
Had been peaceful.
A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.
Your blood runs cold.
Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.
Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.
Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.
A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.
Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.
Smell.
Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.
So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.
Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.
Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.
Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.
Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.
It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.
Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.
It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.
Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.
For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.
You won’t leave, simple.
As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.
That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.
Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.
Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.
Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.
Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.
A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.
Shoot!
The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.
However, your success is short-lived.
Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.
Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.
First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.
Beast.
With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.
This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.
“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.
His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.
The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.
Mage.
Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.
His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.
“One remained, huh.”
It’s a fever dream walking into the Kingdom that, compared to yours, looks positively flourishing with life. Beasts of all kinds roam about, carrying on with their daily lives, oblivious to the winds of death they’ve swept your way.
Everything in your body feels as if it’s shutting down, unable to feel the sensation of your legs as you trudge forward, the younger, much kinder Beast ensuring you kept pace.
Freezing temperatures carry on the longer snow falls, gluing strands of hair to your forehead, blanketing your lashes while your nose runs incessantly.
In front of you now lies the castle, far grander than you could’ve ever imagined. Twin spires peek above the low-hanging clouds, stone columns towering above.
From your distance you spot two knights positioned on either side of the entryway, large armored helmets with hawk feathers adorning the ridges.
One knight stops your ascent, the light-haired man rolling his eyes profusely.
“Minho, this is important.”
“Important enough you’re bringing a Mage into the Kingdom?”
His voice smooth as honey, he sports a dominant tone when speaking. Stare observant, he watches the other Beast’s expressions with uncanny precision.
“Because if you haven’t noticed Hyunjin,” He leans forward a bit, whispering. “You have the entire Kingdom’s attention.”
At this, either of the Beasts who escorted you turn around, and upon doing so are met with hundreds, if not thousands of eyes boring into their soul. Whether it’s younger Beasts or aged soldiers, those heinous vermillion orbs seem to see through you.
You gulp.
“C’mon,” Hyunjin harshly beckons, nudging you forward through the gates with the younger quick on his tail.
Every color in the Palace is monochromatically grey, although strikes of royal blue reside in large drapes hung from perched balconies.
Similar guards to those outside sift throughout the room, familiar hawk feathers litter everywhere in sight, paving paths to the core of the room where a throne sits.
Pointed edges flank either side of the massive chair, the ocean blue rug underneath reflecting up and out of the ceiling — a glass design stretching wide across the throne room, emphasizing the dusky weather outside.
According to the younger Beast whose title you learned as Jeongin, the King was currently participating in a hunt with Changbin (the lead hunter of the Palace), so after hasty appreciation of the sheer volume of this breathtaking castle, you’re forced toward the dungeons.
Jeongin wears a pitying frown, promising to return with some food to your chambers in the case the King doesn’t arrive for a while.
At least someone in this Kingdom doesn’t insist you’re beheaded.
“Finally, somebody else is here.”
A voice erupting from the darkening depths to your right make you jump, chained wrists clanging abruptly. Through minimal lighting of the burning lamps hastened upon the walls, you make out the silhouette of a man, face bunching in a sweet manner when he smiles.
Unusually, his hands aren’t chained.
“What’re you in here for?” You begin, gaze narrowed in confusion. The chubby-cheeked stranger smiles haphazardly.
“I would ask you the same thing. I’m the King’s Advisor, he just gets tired of me and puts me in here sometimes,” Your chamber-mate sighs, and once you take in what he professed, the urge to laugh becomes too strong to control.
Laughing for the first time in quite a while is sort of relieving, especially when this new acquaintance of yours begins whining his dismay, aimlessly trying to hush your giggles.
Red eyes. You can see them blinking up at you, gleaming when he grins his pointed teeth.
Quickly pausing, you wait in horror as he gradually sniffs in.
Your stomach sinks.
“Wait… You’re a Mag—“
His phrase is cut off by a loud ringing noise, a familiar echo of keys tunneling down the dungeons stairwell.
Another stranger unlocks the door. He’s burly, with curly hair in disarray. Cuffs of animal fur wraps around defined biceps, his top a tight-fitted arrangement of fur and woven leather paired with small iron spikes studding the shoulder lining.
A scar passes down the corner of his lip, long since healed but remaining faded.
“C’mere,” He ushers, voice gruff and rumbling when he unlocks your shackles, big hand pushing you forward up the stairs.
If anybody here had pure Beast in their bloodline, it would be this man. His demeanor is rough, but his touch on your back is surprisingly gentle whilst guiding you upward.
Again you’re granted with the wondrous sight of the Throne Room in all its historic glory, although your gaze directed at the floor keeps you ignorant to so many heads bowed, so many voices cast to silence upon the click of footsteps approaching.
And when you look up, you meet strikingly blue eyes—perhaps a genetic mutation of a sort.
They’re stunning, enrapturing almost, and you find the need to break eye contact immediate, more dire than normal while staring down at you.
Plump, full lips and perfectly sculpted facial features seem that of a Greek god’s, too ethereal to exist in your reality. A glittering, silver crown sits stark atop a black nest of hair.
Either arm rests on the sides of the throne, and you swore you’d never seen someone look so, King-like. That, and the massive cape of wolf-skin draped over his back.
A devil, dressed as an angel.
“Your Highness, this Mage was found near the L/N Kingdom by Hwang Hyunjin and Yang Jeongin while scouting the territory.” A palace-woman announces, the same guard who lingered outside, Minho, standing to your side.
Your blood boils, disregarding every ounce of amazement once inhabited.
It’s him. The man responsible for the demise of loved ones you couldn’t count on all of your fingers and toes.
Minho, as if sensing your frothing rage, mutters through his helmet a staggered warning—remaining upright and unmoving at attention.
“Do not move and do not look into his eyes unless you’re asking for death.”
Your patience dissipates, lip twitching involuntarily.
You can’t remember the last time you were genuinely angry. You were happy, surrounded by people you loved.
Those people weren’t here now, they were killed.
“You murderer! You’re a—“ Your attempt at lashing out at the King stalled when Minho kicks the crevice between your knees, forcing you down on the carpet below.
“Monster! A bloody— fucking— Monster!”
Palace representatives gasp their bewilderment, some beckoning you away to the dungeons, others urging Minho to end you right here and now.
It wouldn’t matter, would it?
The King’s raised hand stalls the accusations, his familiar clicking footsteps nearing closer till he stands before you.
Shifting down into a squat, the man tips your chin up to meet cerulean again, his head slightly tilted to the side.
“Don’t get it mixed up little one,” He murmurs, the pad of his thumb controlling your movement.
“I did not kill your family. Your family killed themselves.”
Fist sharply winding around for a punch, he catches it before you can even register your predicament, iron grip strong enough you fear he might just snap your wrist in half.
“And I wouldn’t recommend fighting back, otherwise I can’t guarantee your safety.”
Concluding his threat the further he bends your wrist, you whine, face scrunching from the pain until he finally stops, amusedly surveying your expression.
Denying your own enraged shaking, you suck your teeth, focus vehemently pinned onto him.
“Why would you care about my safety?” You snarl, trying to wriggle his hold off to no avail.
“Because,” The King cocks his brows. “I like you.”
About to spit another word, he interrupts you, index tracing the veins of your arm.
“Plus, I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.”
You shiver.
Your second day and you feel as if you’re officially going insane.
The only person tolerable here is Jeongin, that chamber guard whose name you don’t know, and Felix, the castles cook. You barely see the King, and even when he’s present he’s usually quartered in his study.
What he does there remains unknown, information learned in the mere form of startled maids leaving the room and gossip among those wandering the Kingdom.
“Do you know what he does?”
Felix looks up from the dish he was laying in front of you, wispy blond locks bouncing with the movement.
“Does what?” He piques, ridding a stray piece of hair clinging to your sleeve.
“The King, what does he do all day long?”
One thing about Felix you love, his honesty. Regardless of if most would tell a quick fib and flee, Felix, although occasionally working around a topic, takes the time to actually explain things to you.
Allows you to learn more of the place you’re going to have to call home.
“Hm..” He pulls a chair from your right to drop into, and for a moment, you see Ms. Maewether in that smile of his. Your heart aches.
“Chris— I mean, King Bahng is always busy. He plans trade agreements, oversees the hunts, and basically keeps this castle alive.”
Chris?
“Who’s Chris?”
Felix nearly squeaks, burying his head in his hands. Evidently, you weren’t supposed to hear that part, but an eagerness to know more about this solitary King kept your hesitance at bay.
“That’s his name. Christopher Bahng, but you’re not allowed to call him that and not allowed to tell anyone about us having this conversa-“
“Tell who?”
You quite literally almost fall backwards in your seat, failing to anticipate the pair of hands placed on Felix’s shoulders.
A pair of hands, followed by a pair of ocean blue eyes, boring right into you and the horrified boy in front of you.
King Bahng. In the flesh.
“Oh.. Hey Chri— Hello Your Highness.”
Again he corrects. These two must know each other.
“Tell who, Felix?” He speaks, tone nothing short of teasing—though the boy looks just as startled, practically sweating through his clothing.
Still adorning that flanking wolf-cape of his, his dark hair is slightly messy, expression distorted curiously.
You hate him to admit, but King Bahng is horribly attractive.
“Nothing! Nothing at all, Your Highness,” Felix chirps, fixing you with a ‘Don’t say a word’ glare you cease to argue with.
Rising up from your seat quickly as if you had any duties in this Kingdom to tend to, you find yourself stalling.
You have so many questions. …And the overwhelming urge to slap him across the face.
You’ve received a fair warning on the latter.
“I’ll be off now, Your Highness.”
The last words come out involuntary, used to referring to your own father this way. It made you sick to know you regarded his murderer the same.
And though the King didn’t stand extremely tall (considering how young Beasts were already your height), his hulking stature felt as if it could swallow you whole, pointed canines flashing when he smiled, sending your head reeling.
Pleased.
King Bahng was pleased hearing something nonthreatening come out of your mouth.
Vile.
Yet, you simply curtsied and hurried off, ceasing to notice the immediate growl Felix directed in the King’s direction.
“Good lord, I know she smells good but you’re practically undressing her with your eyes,” The freckled boy grumbles, returned with an uninterested expression from his friend.
Before the King can head off to whatever meeting he has planned, however, he spins on his heel.
“Have you consulted Seungmin about the scent-blocking salve?”
“Possessive, are we?”
His glare shuts the cook up immediately.
“If there is one Mage left, it’s mine. And since she’s the survivor, she’s mine.”
Yeah, he’s not beating the possessive allegations. But if he’s going to gain your trust, and eventually, after much thought, become mates, he’s keeping every other Beast in the Kingdom at a distance from you at all times.
“Jeongin will report when it’s completed. And Chris?”
“Hm?”
“Don’t expect her to warm up to you.”
King Bahng hums.
“I don’t.”
And with that, Felix follows your exit, leaving the King to his own devices, your nectar-sweet smell lingering in his nose.
“If I stare at the same wall for hours and hours, shouldn’t it break by now?”
“You’re a Mage, not telekinetic,” Han replies, repetitively scanning over a piece of parchment assumed to be a guest list.
In the midst of your incessant boredom, you found yourself following the King’s Advisor around, peering over his shoulder at the endless list of haughty names written in languid ink strokes.
Amongst them, you ceased to find your father’s name. You knew it wouldn’t be there, but somehow, you wished if you blinked enough it would magically appear.
King L/N, written in that same, cursive font.
Rounding a corner, you conclude if there’s anyone you avoid more than King Bahng (a.k.a Chris), it was Hyunjin. That man was a serpent in a Beast’s body.
Catching sight of his dreaded ponytail, you hastily retrace your steps, hiding behind a massive doorframe while Han stares at you as if you’re a rodent scurrying at his shoes.
“He won’t bite y’know.”
“If only you would’ve been there when he first found me,” You whisper angrily, practically clawing at the wood desperately till he leaches you out.
Leaching enough, in fact, that you end up right in Hyunjin’s line of sight, who surveys you up and down with a cocked brow to the point you’re sure steam is billowing from your ears.
Mocking. Ruby-red, mocking eyes.
He does bite. He sinks his teeth into the flesh and tears.
You won’t bleed without biting back.
Han’s iron grip tightens on your arm as slowly, oh so slowly, Hyunjin walks closer.
The strategist prowls, edging right up in your face—noses a thread-width apart.
His glower sets your fury alight, lips curled in a deriding notion.
“No need to glare, wouldn’t want wrinkles ruining that face of yours.”
“No need to get so close unless you plan to kiss me, mutt.”
Though, just as Hyunjin preapres to lunge, a big hand holds him back, animal fur cuffs indicating it isn’t the King who stepped in.
The man who had fetched you from the chambers earlier divided either of you. Shorter, but evidently stronger.
“Control yourselves, both of you. For as long as she stays in the Kingdom, she’s The King’s property—“
“I am no one’s property,” You snarl, and the guard turns.
Basked in clear lighting, you can finally see him. Honing dark brown hair hanging above his eyebrows, the same scar resides by his mouth, though, his eyes are much kinder than you expected.
Taking a slow inhale, he reads your conflicted expression like an ornate mirror.
“One mage in the Kingdom of Beasts? Sorry to break it to you, but yes, you are his property. So as long as she’s here, nobody lays a finger on her, understood?”
Glancing to each person, either of them ease their apprehension, the bewildered Jisung next to you stifling a breath, Hyunjin rolling his eyes with a loud huff.
Baiting seconds pass, and in that period of time do you realize you never caught his name. Specifically, the guard’s name.
“Excuse m-“
“Seo Changbin,” Han interjects. “His name is Seo Changbin.”
Ah. Right.
Now on the roster of least-likely to kill you, Jeongin, Changbin, Felix, and Han.
Filled with a need to evade, you stand merely as a spectator as each horridly red hue snaps to stare at you, your heart spiking an alarming rate.
The King’s Advisor’s fingers tighten to the point you’re sure he’s blocking blood flow.
“You need to leave. Jisung, get in contact with Seungmin and see when the salve is done,” Changbin instructs, already shoving Hyunjin away.
Salve. What salve?
Failing to give you any explanation, you’re dragged off, boisterously complaining before the highly annoyed man abruptly pauses, finger nudging your forehead irritably.
“You smell.”
Then he leaves, and you’re left to wonder if you’re still in primary school or the Kingdom of Beasts.
You smell? What’s that supposed to mean?
First thing in the morning, you’re torn from your slumber with a blazing sun scorching your eyes.
Your canopy beds silken drapes doing little to block the attack, you whine to an apologetic Jisung who merely sighs in return.
“Sorry sleeping beauty, but we have an appointment to attend this morning. Can you handle getting dressed on your own?”
You roll your eyes, groggily pulling yourself upright. “I was an heiress, not helpless.”
To which he cracks a miniature grin and slips out the door, allowing you to hurriedly strip off your chemise and messily arrange your stays and petticoats.
Out of all things you’d been deprived of, a part of the L/N Clan unable to be divided was your garments.
Somewhere, in the midst of fabric and citrus scented soap, you swear you can still smell bits and pieces of home.
What this appointment entailed you failed to ask, gingerly hustled down winding hallways barely illuminated with sunlight.
The Kings Advisor expertly winds further and further down, georgian architecture littered in symmetrical golden portraits and decorum, casement glass windows twinkling as you walked past.
Having reached a dead end, you’re pleasantly surprised to watch Han jar a brass doorknob open, paving a breathtaking view of the garden ahead.
Garden had to be an understatement. This amount of foliage was nothing short of a forest.
Flowers of all kind surround your walk to a shrouded greenhouse, abnormally brick relative to it’s stone-castle counterpart. Its walls are overgrown in slithering vines, door nearly invisible without proper inspection.
Jisung, having noticed your amazed expression, chuckles.
Granted, it’s been years since you’d seen any form of green vegetation, your astonishment felt justified.
“We’ve arrived.”
Oh how you wish to stay here forever. Not captive by the Beast Clan, no, but in this garden, hidden.
And if the last door took effort to pry open, this was a new challenge entirely. Through thickets of dense hedge and tangled branches, Jisung had to quite literally ram himself into the chittering wood for entry.
“Knock next time would you?” A voice projects from inside, belonging to a man clad in rounded spectacles, a slightly hooked nose, and cleanly hair parted to the side.
The Kings Advisor, apparently having known him, beams his prize-winning smile upon seeing the man.
“Seungminnnn—“ Han drawls out, excitedly waddling over to wrap him in a crushing hug. Stiffly, Seungmin pats his back, an action you fondly watch from afar.
“Ah!” The more ebullient of the two springs up, turning to you. “This is Seungmin, he runs the apothecary here.”
Nodding stiffly, Seungmin ushers you to one of the many mahogany chairs circling a gateleg table; a vase—likely jade with its pale green hue—filled with indigo hydrangea presides in the center.
“And,” Han’s outburst cuts off your awe. “He’s practically my little brother.”
Now you’re in awe again, but for a different reason. And by the evident frown on Seungmin’s face, he can tell.
“Shocking, right?”
Yes, shocking for certain.
Though, before you can reply, Han slaps his hands on either of the man’s shoulders, expression transformed into one of seriousness.
“About time I left then, yeah?” Was spoken while his form hurriedly retreated out the door, leaving you with more questions than answers to what just occurred.
“..He forgot something again.”
Biting back your laugh, you finally take a seat, given ample time as Seungmin shuffles off to the side to acknowledge your everything to its fullest extent.
Matching the plant-infested interior, verdant drawers scatter the corners, a lone, looming medicinal cabinet left ajar as the chemist poured over a variety of assorted concoctions.
Air stained with a damp smell of earth, you notice, much to your curiosity, the longevity of such a place.
This apothecary, though inside the castle, feels like an entirely new settlement of its own. An establishment existing before the war, rebuilt (inefficiently) enough to where it was only required to stand stable.
From first sighting you’d grown an attachment to it, but this newfound understanding, these newfound details setting the apothecary apart from your predicament let you imagine yourself anywhere else, back to a nostalgia you longed for.
A short term fix.
“This.” You’re handed a phial from overhead. It’s a slightly green substance, thicker in texture that rests heavy in your hand. “Is for you.”
Slipping across from you, he surveys your analyzing, arms crossed over a deep brown waistcoat.
“And this is..?” You inquire, looking up from the cork-sealed glass.
“A salve. You had better not waste it, material is low as is and I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.”
Well that didn’t answer your question. You’ve heard conversation about a specific salve for days on end, but no genuine explanation caved in—
‘I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.’
Repeatedly mulling over the words, you can practically feel your heart palpitating, head beginning to spin.
..End already? The endless winter.. ending?
“So you’re saying,” You murmur, placing down this special salve in order to truly regard him.
“There’s a way to end the Endless Winter?”
His brows crease critically, seemingly sarcastic.
“There’s an end to everything sweetheart. Life, death. Start, finish. War,” He meets your eyes with a conniving grin, a face you hadn’t seen on the man before.
“Peace.”
Automatically, you roll your eyes.
Peace? Peace when there was no peace left to be made, no kingdom remaining to make peace with?
“And how do you think the nonexistent Mage will make peace with Beasts?”
Seungmin grins.
“Well there is a Mage left,” He scornfully states, flicking your forehead whilst you palm the sting, frown evident.
“And as far as making peace goes, marriage.”
Marriage.
What.
“Wait- so you’re telling me big bad King Bahng could’ve just hooked up with a Mage and called it a day and everything would be fine?”
Seungmin clears his throat.
“One, Bahng doesn’t ‘hook up’. Two, it’s not as easy as that.”
Of course it’s not as easy as that. Why would it be?
You wish to claw your eyes out of your head, anticipating his explanation.
“Because if you weren’t aware before, marriage ties between Mage and Beast are very difficult to establish. Bahng is picky on everything, and even pickier when it comes to mates.”
But before you can argue there were thousands of suitors roaming the L/N Kingdom for him to pick from, Seungmin interrupts.
“Plus, if anyone else were King I’m sure we would’ve had peace decades ago. You’re lucky you’re in the castle right now, otherwise you would be eaten alive.”
Your face scrunching worriedly, he rakes an exasperated hand through his hair, plopping down on the vanity’s chair.
“Your scent.”
Again, you’re reminded of Han’s ‘you smell’ comment. Why is it showing up a second time?
He groans frustratedly, wordlessly praying you understand.
You don’t.
“Mage have specific scents. You can’t smell it since you’re not Beast. But let me tell you, you smell fucking delightful.”
Oh.
That’s what he meant by eaten alive, and the entire ‘you smell’ conundrum.
Seungmin, rather entertained with the shock written on your face, shrugs his shoulders, nonplussed by the crassness of his earlier statement.
“Now you get the use of the salve, right? And why you’re not allowed to leave the castle?”
Your mouth feels dry of response, beckoned toward the exit without so much as a peep passing through your lips.
However, right as the you’re halfway gone, he stops you, brows cocked.
“Do us all a favor and marry him, will you?”
And like that, the apothecary’s door thumps closed behind you.
If only the “him” he was referring to wasn’t King Bahng, you might’ve agreed.
Marriage in the L/N Kingdom had been a sacred event.
An event you’d been prepared for since childhood, fed daydreams of a day you would be married to a prince-like man with perfect features and a perfect personality, every element fabricated from a young age.
Truly, you loved it. Loved visualizing a life shared with your loved one, whoever that man would be.
Little did you know he might just be King of the Beast Clan.
No. You refused. Marrying a murderer, the murderer of your family, was the last thing you would oblige to.
He sent the command, he led the attack, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of marriage.
Although, one problem. Similar to life back at the L/N Kingdom, supplies only lasted for some time before shipments became low, and pretty soon (according to Seungmin) the salve you were given would run dry.
Meaning, your meager chance of protection lay completely exposed, susceptible to any Beast daring enough to try something.
Two sides of a coin remained. Heads, you marry the murderer of a King and spring returns, or tails, you abstain and are eventually left vulnerable.
You’ve always been the person to confront a difficulty head-on, but, in this case, a different, defensive approach crossed your mind.
Run away.
Despite Seungmin’s sensible reminder to not leave the castle, what other option sounded suitable?
Die physically or mentally, pick your poison.
Or maybe, never drink the poison in the first place. Evade.
Three days have passed since you received the salve, and after applying it behind your ears and between your elbows at dawn, you were free to do as you pleased—within the castle walls.
Yet, tomorrow’s dawn would be divergent. Tomorrow, you would be days away from the Beast Clan.
Sneakily roaming around, you managed to find certain outlets to your disposal. Nearby the chambers you’d been kept in was a moth eaten, hooded cloak seemingly unworn for quite awhile. Ideal for an anonymous escape.
Furthermore, amongst the colloquy during a dinner with Changbin and Felix in the Great Hall, you distinctly recall overhearing information about the stables.
If you were to flee, you needed a horse, and thanks to the guard, you knew right where to find one.
Unable to sleep the night before, your dry eyes blink through the dense darkness, sweeping the candlestick from your side table for a minimal source of vision.
Lathering a copious amount of salve all over your skin, you slip down the winding stairwell, grateful for the shadowed moonlight gazing down upon the Throne Room as you venture.
Bingo. There’s the cloak.
Sweeping the fabric over your shoulders, you slip the hood over your head, creeping down the steep steps leading into a surrounding ward.
On your left, across the butcher’s vendors.
Blindly searching, the whinny of a mare alerts your close distance, carefully winding through lead ropes and linked fences to the first horse in sight.
You have to be fast, the sun will rise at any moment it pleases, and it’s impertinent you’re gone by then.
Hoisting a mere saddle pad over the back, you deem the saddle too noisy, slipping the reins overheard and adjusting their length accordingly.
Jogging forwards, you’re brisk to gain a running leap atop the horse prior to the thunder of hooves charging forward.
Closer to the gatehouse you near, a luckily open drawbridge allowing easy passage across.
Faster, faster. You can’t afford to slow down. Daylight is beginning to peer above the horizon, warming your back with rays of sunlight amongst a snowy landscape.
And when the kingdom wakes up, it’ll be as if you were never there.
But, an undecided factor stayed. Where would you go? There was no kingdom left for you, no home to go to.
For now, you needed to prioritize finding a hiding spot, if only for a night, that supplies warmth.
Given the opportunity, too long out here and you or your horse will indefinitely succumb to the frigid conditions.
Veering off sharply, you sidle beneath a barren magnolia tree, its thick trunk barely blocking the unforgiving wind. Pretty soon you’ll have to keep on, but for now, you’ll savor the temporary peace.
Blue skies indicate it must be nearing morning, and you assume the castle will be slowly waking up. By now, King Bahng would likely be awake as well, you’ve been told he doesn’t sleep well anyway.
Scouts. He’ll send scouts most likely. Knights like Minho or Hyunjin.
Ugh, the mere thought of Hyunjin finding you a second time makes you nauseous.
Except, the longer you consider it, King Bahng is the worst case scenario.
I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.
Those words send an entourage of chills slithering up your spine, and not from the cold.
Because while Hyunjin is a type of spiteful strong you want to avoid primarily due to how annoying it is, King Bahng is a quiet strong, the kind that wouldn’t confess his anger, but have you witness it firsthand instead.
Enough thinking. You have to go.
Using the bumpy roots below you for leverage, you wind a leg around the horse’s back, aiming to reach the edge of the territory before midday.
That was the goal, until you’re pummeling to the ground.
The moment is instantaneous, your horse releasing a shriek as it’s swiped right off its feet, slipping onto hard, icy ground and simultaneously crushing you in its descent.
Almost like vomit you feel the screech of pain building in your throat, a numbness in your right leg along with the warmth of blood soaking your clothing doing little to sustain level breathing.
Then, in the midst of your hysterics, you look upon the visible side of your horse, a pair of claw marks scratched right across its stomach.
Scrambling out to the best of your abilities, you bite your tongue, praying this is one of Hyunjin’s sick, sadistic games and not an obvious ambush.
You refuse to die like this. You’ve survived once and you’ll be damned to give up now.
“I’m impressed. You’re not as weak as I thought.”
A sneering tone speaks from behind you. According to the claw marks, Beast, but not one you remember. And with your current state—being unable to rise to your feet—you’re utterly incapable of ascertaining an identity.
Instantly, your hand reaches up to trace the alcove beneath your ear and neck, any ounce of hope disappearing upon feeling for the salve.
Gone.
“Now, care to tell me what a Mage is doing in Beast territory?”
He’s hiding behind you on purpose, drawing you into a sensory overload, a panicked frenzy of adrenaline and fear.
Deer caught in headlights.
A curved claw unlike those in the Kingdom of Beasts winds your head back, staring straight into the face of something you can hardly deem Beast, more like wolf.
He has this terrifying look in his eyes, and breath that stenches of metal and flesh.
This man is the kind of Beast you’d grown up believing in. Violent, merciless.
Minho, Hyunjin, hell, anyone. Please.
As if second instinct, you assess everything around you, snatching the closest stick to you and jarring the sharp end through the bottom of his chin with all your might.
A gagged, sort of howling sound emits from above you, putrid-smelling blood spraying all over your face.
In split seconds does another form appear in your peripheral, your dread heightening before ultramarine stills the horror in its tracks.
King Bahng.
He’s quiet, expertly slicing the back of the neck, the attacker dropping to the ground motionlessly.
“I could’ve handled it myself.”
It’s a lie. He doesn’t respond.
If the first Beast hadn’t killed you, he certainly would. He said it himself, whenever he pleased, he could break you.
So when King Bahng’s arms extend toward your position on the ground, you prepare for the worst, crawling backwards as quickly as possible.
Surprisingly, he kneels down in front of you, and, as your vision clears, you notice the concern written on his face.
Weird, the feeling compiling in your gut as he looks at you like that. The way your eyes build with tears, lungs finally hacking for as much non-congested air available without a single word said.
Just by his expression alone, you’re a fit of blood and tears, the aftershock hardly helping ease the experience.
Crying, in the middle of a forest, with King Bahng as a witness.
“I know, I know,” Is all he whispers, and you barely recognize when he hoists you into his arms, the searing sting of your leg your only indication of movement.
Smoothly maneuvering you again his chest, he cradles your body close, one hand directing his horse as you ride back to what you assume to be the Kingdom.
Through the aching pain, you can’t even be upset about returning, merely focusing on the subtle warmth of his body and the strength willing you to say something.
“You speak nothing of this moment,” You murmur, the King’s body erupting into a tremor of laughter.
“I speak whatever I like whenever I like, sweetness. No one touches what’s mine, yeah?”
Mine. You hate the effect he has on you.
Yet, your snarky remarks are depleting in tandem with your energy; the soothing, shushing sound he’s making and the repetitive thump of hooves doing little to keep you from sleeps tempting beckon.
Eyes drifting closed, his tightened grip pulls you closer, your cheek smushed into the fabric of his coat whilst lost in slumber.
“Hold on a bit longer for me, we’ll be there in no time.”
Recovery, to your luck, is swift. Either that, or Kim Seungmin is secretly a Mage, because within a week spent off your leg, you’re back to normal.
A little sensitive to weight, but overall, healed.
Initially, despite the agony blazing through your body, you were thankful you barely recalled seeing anyone, swept into the apothecary immediately.
The last thing you wanted to see after returning would be the faces. Plus, what about your friends? Jeongin, Felix, Han? You’re sure they looked destroyed.
Except, it’s all fake. A feign kindness given to you only by sympathy. What do the faces matter anyway?
You gorge that question to the very back of your throat when said Cook walks through the apothecary’s door, utmost apprehension apparent. He grabs your face, brows knit—but not in an angry sort of way, more like staving-down-tears.
“Don’t you ever do something like that ever again.”
Past him, you can’t help but smile seeing Seungmin’s softened expression watching Felix, adoring his preciousness just as you are.
“I promise.”
Nodding curtly, he turns around, leaving you to view the many ingredients scattered across his apron.
He rushed here, cute.
“I’ll bring breakfast down here.”
Craning, you can barely make out his deep voice, lowered to a nearly inaudible decibel. Ears flushed pink, you’re filled with a worrisome amount of happiness seeing Felix’s embarrassment trying to maintain an upset facade.
“Hm? What was that?”
Ah, at this point you’re picking fun.
“I said I’ll bring breakfast down here.”
Precipitously slipping outside, both you and Seungmin are left to stifle your bubbling laughter, graced with the most appetizing platter you’ve had the pleasure of eating a few minutes later.
However merciful those first few days were, dissipated. And in a short amount of time, you could feel the eyes boring into your back, the questions resting on the tip of tongues.
All the same, nobody mentioned it. And if anything, that made the paranoia grow.
It was gradual. The subtle shadow you swore you saw in corners, the terror stopping your heart in your chest when you swear someone breathed down your neck.
Your body may be healed, but your mind certainly isn’t.
To a degree that two weeks later, you’ve found sleep nearly impossible, lingering in the kitchen in the wee hours of morning, teetering on your wits end.
Some occasions it’s Felix who you see first, wiping the sleep from his eyes, loading coal into the furnaces to heat the kitchen for the day. Other days it’s handmaids, shuffling around busily, carrying goods to and fro.
This time, Minho arrives first, for once wearing regular clothing opposed to his usual armor, steaming saucer in clutch.
Perhaps this is an opportunity, he is a knight after all.
“Hey Minho?”
Tired eyes sweep to your figure on the table, the rim of his cup held to his lips.
“I’m too paranoid and at this point I might die of sleep deprivation,” You huff, referring to his raging, bed-headed self . “…Could you teach me how to use a sword?”
He’s staring at you like you‘ve grown two heads, pulling a chair back to settle in, arms crossed over his chest.
No sentences need to be said aloud, merely spectating the gears turning in his head enough to set your nerves on edge.
Yet, in the midst of your waiting, you note a peculiar bruise peeking from his collarbone, another lingering a tad bit lower.
“And you think a sword is going to protect you?”
The question is genuine, lacking the bemused nature you were expecting.
Another thing you’ve noted throughout your sleepless nights was the continuous amount of times you’d watch the King’s Advisor sneak into his quarters, a realization keeping your response baited.
Seems his love life isn’t a concern.
“Hey, those marks on your neck and shoulder, are those from Ha—“
“When do you want to train.”
All lightheartedness vanishing, you have to chew your lip to avoid ticking him off further by giggling.
“Tomorrow?”
Pushing in his chair with an agreeable hum, you merely whisper a hurried “Thank you” he grunts at, rushing off to who knows where and giving you leeway to recover from the hilarity of it all.
Tomorrow, however, came far too early, not anticipating to be woken up at the crack of dawn, grumpy enough the prospect of blackmailing the King’s Advisor became dangerously tempting.
Yeah, good luck. He’s not budging until you’re on your feet.
Seems you underestimated Han Jisung’s stubbornness.
Rushed into a loose gown, you’re led to the Inner Ward, an open sector in the middle of the castle.
Upon being met with a too-smug Minho, you can practically see the word “payback” hovering above his head, busying himself with fetching supplies.
Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite you.
Ouch.
Except, you’re puzzled. You’re being taught how to deul, yet your teacher isn’t adorning armor nor gear of any kind.
At your confusion, the knight chokes a cocky guffaw.
“First, we learn how to properly move.” He hands you a wooden sword. “If I so much as leave a scratch on you I’m as good as dead.”
Again, he may appear snarky, but his tone is nothing short of serious. Minho is hard to read.
Wait.
Seeing past your panic, the Beast seems to answer your unspoken question.
“King Bahng is visiting the villages today, he won’t be back till the evening.”
A wave of relief grounds your bones, standing rather pathetically while Minho aids in critiquing your position, instinctively shifting into his own in front of you.
“Now, there are a lot of things to consider when dueling. I’ll narrow things down. Don’t overestimate or underestimate your opponent, trust your gut, be aware of everything, and lastly, do not be afraid to deceive.”
Promptly, he’s lashing out before you can even process his advice, wooden weapon drawn above his head as your grip tightens, attempting to block the strike only for his foot to press into your stomach, sending you falling right onto the ground instead.
“Isn’t that unfai—“
“Like I said, deception is your greatest weapon. In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.”
He reaches a hand out for you to take, helping you back up again only to both fall back into your stances.
“Keep in mind, your sword isn’t your only weapon.”
Minding his instruction, you continue onward, sparring heartily till the beating afternoon sun becomes too hot to bask in any longer. Amongst the four hours you had been consumed in training, you’ve snagged certain valuable points.
Calmness is crucial. Your mind streams clearer when you parried, void to the opponent’s increasing frustration—given an advantage of both agility and focus.
Two, unpredictability is a gift. Minho is especially good at being unpredictable.
Whether he charges headfirst or aims the forte of his sword toward particularly weak points, you begin to mimic his performance, growing closer and closer to conquering those signature tactics.
Of course, your enjoyment can only last for a bit before it spoils.
Spoiling as in, Hwang Hyunjin’s random appearance, sauntering into the area as if he’s King himself.
“Well look at this, didn’t think I’d see our runaway and Minho here.”
There’s an air between Minho and Hyunjin, one that forbids Hyunjin from egging his superior on, just like when you were first brought to the Kingdom. Lucky for you, you could be degraded as much as he approved of.
Feigning a dramatic gasp, he gestures to either wooden sword held in raw palms.
“No way, you’re learning how to deul?! Don’t tell me you’ve never learned basic attacks? Oh right, you never had to fight, huh, princess?”
You bite the skin of your cheek, minding your composure.
“You know nothing about me.”
“I know enough.”
Now he’s asking for it.
“Say,” He sneers. “Let’s duel.”
Keeping Minho from intervening, you apologetically nod to his disproving expression. He knows it’s stupid, even while fetching his armor and adjusting the metal plating to your body, and you do too, but you can’t afford to back down, you won’t.
Testing your abilities carrying a legitimate sword this time, Minho grants Hyunjin a terse scowl, their own wordless agreement to tone down on anything too harmful.
Somehow, it grates your nerves further.
Straight away, he charges his right foot forward, the metal colliding with a loud ring, narrowing your body to shield your unprotected side.
Hyunjin, though skillful in his wrist mobility, clearly uses his size compared to you as an advantage, carelessly throwing around his jabs whilst relying on form alone.
You shuffle back and forth continuously, the commotion of metal rifle drawing the attention of Beasts alike throughout the castle, stopping their movements to survey.
Lurching himself forward once more, you will your legs to support you, balancing the crushing force of his pushing ascent with as much strength as possible.
“If you win, you get whatever sensible award you want,” He grits, using pure weight alone to gain higher vantage. “But if I win, you marry King Bahng.”
Suddenly, interrupting your stunned reaction to his proposal, Minho’s reminder breaches your eardrums.
Deception is your greatest weapon.
Honestly, you’re bewildered Hyunjin hadn’t played petty thus far, and you have no doubt he will any moment now.
You can’t afford to waste the opportunity.
Maintaining your gaze targeted on his face, you steal the chance, slipping your sword right beneath his feet, hooking the guard just fast enough to cause his legs to buckle.
The tip of your sword centimeters from his neck, you cock your brows, finding satisfaction in the glare he’s boring into your skin from his spot on the ground.
In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.
“If King Bahng wishes to marry me, he will deul me himself. That decision isn’t up to you.”
Stalling his immediate laughter upon nudging the sharp point right up against his pulse point, you chuckle.
“I might have to do this more often, you’re not bad when you shut your mouth for once.”
Dropping your sword, you reach out a customary hand he rejects, either of you following Minho to the side stalls to return his armory before a haunting voice stops you in your tracks.
“One more match?”
You’d been ignorant to the Kingdom’s sudden burst of energy, the trembling chains of the drawbridge dropping onto cobblestone ground, the gates shifting open.
Having appeared through thin air stands King Bahng, constantly arriving at the worst of timing.
He’s clad in traditional armor, though his has fancier plating, cleaner sheen, azure hues hidden within the gorget.
Your stomach ties itself into a knot, piecing together the details.
“If this is about the deal, I don’t think I-“
“Oh please princess, this was never up to you. We did this for the sake of the Kingdom, you think we ever considered your say in this?” Hyunjin interjects, quickly escorted away by a frowning Minho and an additional guard you don’t recognize.
Huh?
What… What is he talking about? For the Kingdom? What does he mean for the sake of the Kingdom?
Do us all a favor and marry him, will you? Seungmin’s words ricochet in your skull, the parts assembling perfectly into place.
But if I win, you marry King Bahng.
Marriage.
They knew all along. They knew you were set to marry him and yet, no one told you.
If your betrayal had been violently inflicted, you would look like a rag doll. All this time, these moments you thought were glee-filled, hopeful.
Lies.
Tearing the King’s chance to speak from his fingertips, you pick up your sword, denying your shaky, white knuckles and replacing those broken feelings with rage instead.
No, you can’t afford to show weakness. You must replace these feelings as quickly as possible.
No weakness, no mercy.
“Fine, let’s duel.”
“But-“
“Pick. Up. Your. Sword. And fight me.”
Releasing a sigh, he cautiously pulls his own sword from its sheath, waiting to be counted off unlike Hyunjin.
However skillful you’d been before had completely vanished. Though, you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt, this fight meant your future, meant the minuscule bit of freedom you’d gotten to experience here.
The last thing you wished was to realize you had been lied to, but even more so to realize you’ve been lied to in front of the entire Kingdom, curious faces peering from the castle’s allures.
Your swings sloppy, you credit the severity of the blows as you attack and defend, evidently dueling with fatal intent.
You’ve lost this battle, you know it. Your senses are too overwhelmed to assess spatial awareness, and every muscle in your arm cries out for relief.
Swept off of your feet in a repeated cycle to earlier, you accept, sitting below the tip of King Bahng’s sword, your defeat.
Almost automatically, the pieces of pride you’d attained after your victory against Hyunjin amounted to nothing.
You may beat everyone else, but you will never beat this man, now matter how hard you try. The odds will always soar in his favor, and you will suffer the results of it.
This is not a game you’ll win. Because from the beginning, you existed as a marionette, enjoying such naivety till the comprehension as to who controlled the play hit you.
This theatre was particularly unforgiving.
He won.
If your insomnia before was grueling, this was an entirely new extreme.
Averaging a meager two hours per night, you’re positive you’ve memorized the guest list by heart, staring blankly at the crinkled parchment, unblinking.
In a matter of days, the congratulatory ball will be held.
You’ll be attending said ball as the bride.
Weeks ago, the guest list had simply been a past time, a mandatory errand for the King’s Advisor, a ball you weren’t aware, and wouldn’t be aware, was meant for you.
Your chest feels.. sad? Empty?
Yes. Empty is the word. An emptiness gutting you from the inside, the ugly drawback of exhausted options and worthless optimism.
There’s a lot of things to ponder on as well, factors you have to analyze, ensure it wasn’t another stage for an audience you so foolishly performed.
No escape.
Tuesday, two days before the ball, Jeongin drops by your door, carrying a package under his arm and that effortlessly adorable smile gracing picture-perfect features.
“This is for you, from.. um..” The anxious boy stammers, placing the binded package on your room’s veneer.
“You can say his name, Jeongin, I’m not mad.”
He exhales audible relief, slender fingers wrapping around your hand before you can bid him farewell.
“He— The King, he’s a good person.”
You force a tight grimace, agreeing despite your contradicting expression.
Perhaps he is, perhaps he isn’t. You don’t know what to believe anymore.
Slipping from bed once the young boy’s footsteps fade in the distance, you gingerly unwind crimson ribbon, allowing the leather exterior to unfold.
Inside lies a gown.
A gown that, investigating how breathtaking it is, should be considered nothing short of a ball gown the longer you stare.
Designed as a mantua, the white fabrics paired with lace neck frill and engageantes add an elegance you’ve never seen before. Light, subtle blue hides beneath ruffles of the skirt, further accented by equally blue lace strings fastening the back together and outlining the seam of your square-cut stays.
You can only marvel at the gift given by your future husband, wishing so terribly you could simply run into his arms and pretend everything was well.
If only it was under better terms, as if nothing had happened. If King Bahng was another man, it’d be possible.
And Wednesday night, the root of your problems bares his face, knocking at your door while you were under the impression it was Han instead.
Acting as if you didn’t care was much easier around everyone but him, especially when you were halfway into tying the laces of your dress, the dress he had purchased for you.
What awful circumstances.
“Don’t touch me,” You hiss, regarding the man across from you with a frown.
Lifting either hand in the air, he seemingly invites you to figure out the impossible strings yourself, cueing a very aggravated, very futile attempt at tightening the ties of your ball gown before (hesitantly) allowing the man to slip behind you.
Of course you had to choose now to try it on.
His touch irritably careful, he ensures the fabric is snug fitting but breathable, each woven thread in its coordinating pattern.
Where he learned this you have no idea, only aware of how horrific this close proximity is, your restlessness growing unbearable.
Running his tongue over his top teeth, he backs up slightly, taking you in with apparent speechlessness.
He clears his throat.
“I won’t apologize because I know it means nothing to you, but please, let me explain. I intended to tell you, I just-“
He sounds timid, like a child.
A sour, bitter fury froths like bile in your throat. You want to explode.
“No. No. I didn’t want this! I won’t!” You wind around, pointing an accusing finger to his chest. “You killed them all, my family, my loved ones, children. I hate you. I hate you!” Your voice breaks, a gravelly, disgusting drawl raking your throat raw. Salty, burning tears drip down your collarbones.
Grievance. An innumerable stage of sadness you hadn’t reached before now, overflowing.
As he tries calming you down, you only grow angrier, pushing from your path to the door, ripping the handle awry.
Instantly, his arms wrap around your middle, hauling you back as you kick and scream, fingernails digging into any available skin, dress puffing as your legs flail.
Catastrophic.
“No- No!”
You’re certain the entire kingdom can hear you, but that’s the last concern occupying your headspace, too focused on escaping, far off as you had done earlier, anywhere but here.
“Stop crying,” He commands, either hand on your wrist pinning your back to the bed, expression morphed pitifully. His calloused hand swipes the storming rivulets from your cheeks.
“Please, Y/n, please stop crying. It hurts.”
Your response shortens into a simple sob, aching.
“It hurts..?” You murmur, eyes shifting over his face. “…You hurt?”
Incessant crying causing your skin to burn, he only blinks at you.
A fit of anger forms just as fast as it disappeared in the pit of your stomach.
“You’re hurting? You’re the sick son of a bitch that killed my family and took everything I’ve ever loved away, you don’t deserve to hurt!”
Sucking in a necessary inhale, you angrily flail, wrinkling your nose at the careful tilt of his head, the distance of his face from yours, every scar, every pore close enough to see.
What happened to the King who threatened to break you? Why is he pitying you, looking at you with such kindness?
Longing to bring up how useless the deal was, how the benefits of the marriage aren’t your responsibility, you simply glare, emotions a whirlwind you can’t explain, can’t say aloud.
And all he does is stare. Staring like you’ve said nothing at all.
You want to cry out, want to curse him for all eternity, curse those blue eyes that seem to pave a pathway through your soul.
But you don’t. He beats you to it.
“..Do you know why my eyes are blue?”
What?
“Because I’m not fully Beast. My mother was a Mage. She turned against my father after I was born, left us, and vowed to do everything in her power to destroy Beasts.”
Your face contorts nonsensically, his tight hold on your wrists loosening the longer he speaks.
“And I assume,” He redirects your head, forcing you to maintain eye contact.
Rearing deja-vú reminds you of your first encounter.
“No one ever told you Mage’s started the war.”
You scoff.
“Or that the Mage planned to cut off all trade supply simply out of spite. And so, I did what I had to—“
“You did what you wanted to. You killed helpless people because of your own problems, my family had nothing to do with it!” Vocal cords throbbing the louder you scream, you try kicking your legs to no avail.
“Your family, Mage, had everything to do with it. My people would have died-“
“Mine already did. So now what?”
A minuscule pinch occupies his brows.
“You weren’t supposed to be alive.”
“But I am, so you might as well let me join them.”
He sighs, a stray, obsidian strand of hair hanging over his forehead.
“You know I can’t do that.”
You test the words on your tongue, wedging your hand out to grab his face, feeling the dip of his jaw as he sucks in a breath.
When you first met, he had told you he’d break you. This change of heart confuses you, grates more anger in your chest.
“And why is that?”
Opening his mouth, he momentarily closes it, then opens again, contemplating the statement with caution.
He’s right, in some way.
You’re not supposed to be alive, not supposed to be saddened. You were meant to be in the ground with them, be one of the many bodies littering the L/N Kingdom, granted an eternal sleep.
Yet, you aren’t.
You survived, and you despise this man with every fiber of your being for that.
But things cannot change. You can’t bring them back, and his situation is just as painful as yours.
You both lost people, or, would’ve lost people.
An explanation or an apology, as he said, isn’t necessary.
So you’ll get what you want, tangibly.
Forcefully grabbing his chin and jutting him closer to you on the bed, your voice drips with venom, noses mere breadth apart.
“Then end this winter and marry me, Your Highness.”
For a split second you swear his gaze drifts to your lips, but you shake the thought away, his sharp canines glinting off the mirrors reflection.
“Aren’t I supposed to be the one to propose?”
“You killed my family, no need for formalities.”
“Care to remind me why you agreed to marry him? Weren’t you planning to kill him?” Felix piques, apron woven around his thin waist, skillfully measuring flour that’s dusted over his nose.
You needed to get your anger out, then devise a plan. Show King Bahng you weren’t going to succumb to his charms, tricks. Ever.
You hum from your spot on the counter, conversing just as you’d done back in your kingdom with Ms. Maewether.
Technically, he was your new Ms. Maewether.
“Oh no, I still plan on killing him, I just want something first.”
Except, you didn’t talk about murder in front of Ms. Maewether. That was new.
He raises an eyebrow.
“And what would that be?”
Snapping your fingers, you cheerily tap your heels against the cabinets below.
“I want to see spring again.”
Silence overcoming the kitchen, it takes Felix a full minute to understand your preposition before bursting into unadulterated laughter. Well, until he realizes. Then he pouts.
“Aw, I was really looking forward to seeing Chris rejected at the altar.” The smaller Beast whines, popping a piece of sugary sweet dough his mouth and handing another to you.
“Hey, now that’s just cruel,” You mumble, muffled by the delicacy you’re currently chewing on.
“According to you yesterday, not really.”
Ah. Right.
“We just… have a lot to talk about.”
The phrase sounds stupid, but it’s true. Logically, emotionally it’s true. There is a lot in need of discussing.
For now, you’re indifferent.
“I’ve always thought you two were similar.”
The cook’s outburst catches you off guard.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve always wanted to protect what mattered to you most, and maybe, one day, you can understand why he did what he did.”
Leave it to Felix to be your reasonable opinion.
Nevertheless, an invisible barrier rests between you two. A lie. His lie. The Kingdom’s lie.
“Felix, I will never understand why he did it,” You humorlessly chuckle, hopping from your spot. “So tell me, why did you lie?”
All morning you debated the right time to confront him. Tonight was the night, the congratulatory ball, the wedding. Why wait?
Freezing with his back turned to you, he stops mid-slice, dropping the knife atop the cutting board and gradually facing you.
Oh Felix.
His nose flushed pink, lips quivering, you allow him to race forward and hug you, head tucked into your shoulder while you stand there, motionless.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It was decided from the start, but we were told not to tell you, not until King Bahng told you himself.”
You want to tell him it’s okay, make some jokes, act like things are normal. Though your arms stay glued to your side.
“I guess Hyunjin beat him to it, huh?”
His arms tighten around you and, with a sigh, you pat his back, gently nudging him off of you where you can hold that sweet face of his.
“But don’t worry about me, alright? I can handle this, and I forgive you, so let’s move on from this, Lix.” Tenderly rubbing the skin of his cheek, he meekly smiles, an action you can’t help but feel relieved seeing.
You’re strong. You have to be strong. For Felix, for Han, for Jeongin, for your friends throughout the Beast Clan, you’ll be strong. You’ll enjoy wearing the gown regardless of who bought it for you, cherish the wedding no matter the man you’re wedded to.
If you’re going to have to live like this forever, you might as well make the most of it.
On today’s occasion, you’re dressed by a hand maid sent to your quarters, polished and puffed to perfection by the time five o’clock arrives and the banquet officially begins.
And when you see yourself in the mirror, you’re not exactly sure who stares back at you.
She’s pretty, yes, but she isn’t Y/N. She’s a Queen, the Queen of the Beast Clan.
Your stomach wrenches.
By tomorrow, you’ll be married. Married to King Bahng. You will be a wife, the wife of a King just as the L/N Kingdom intended.
The thought continues to plague your mind, sucking more and more oxygen from your lungs that as you’re escorted to the ball room.
You can hardly inhale and exhale normally as Changbin, whom you appreciate enormously, walks you down the aisle, past an abundance of people you’ve never seen before. Beasts, business men, acquaintances alike.
Sensing your panic, your linked arms allow him to spare you a meager glance you anxiously return.
It’s fine. It’ll be fine.
All previous calmness long dissipated, when you finally redirect your attention from your feet and take in King Bahng waiting at the altar, your rampaging anxiousness increases tenfold.
As the audience claps and either of you turn with your backs facing the crowd, you scorn your lack of a poker face when the King rests a hand on your back.
“Breathe,” He utters, only a whisper you heard.
Wishing to thank him, you bite your tongue, considering the man you’re referring to in the first place prior to replying.
A sharp nod of your head is enough.
Stifling an exhale, you spin on your heel, both bowing to the public before facing each other and holding hands, an action that shouldn’t cause goosebumps to swarm your arms, but does anyway.
“You plan to smash my face in at our wedding?” He murmurs below the customary vows, acknowledging your fingernails digging into his hand.
“Keep giving me ideas and I migh-“
The retort vanishes when he presses his lips to yours, doubling back in shock before his palm on your back keeps you close.
Granting you breathing room if only for an instant, a slow grin tugs at the edge of his lips.
“Then before I die, let me have this first.”
And he dives right back in again, kiss surprisingly tender compared to what you’d expected. Something bruising, dominating.
Instead, the King was soft. Soft as he held your cheek in a hand, soft when pulling you in by the waist.
Separating if only for a fraction of a second, you reach to hold his face, every instinct beckoning you to push him away dissipating into nothing but the nullified drone of your head and the insistent racing of your heartbeat.
“Are you that nervous, pretty? Your heart is-“
You pull him to your lips once more, hating how easy it is to forget, how his lips numb your thoughts—though unable to get enough.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
The guests hollering in your peripheral the lone sound breaching your eardrums, you can’t help thinking.
He did this for his people just as you would’ve done. As for the Mage instigating the war, some secrets shall remain hidden, unable to be answered. You have to accept that among many things.
The King has done nothing but care for you, and as much as you resent him for it, you respect him, if only a tiny bit, as well.
He’s irritable, and not to mention annoyingly handsome. His sympathy-filled eyes might be the death of you, and those dimples of his are stupidly lovable.
But he’s your husband, and somehow, strangely enough, you don’t find yourself hating the thought as much anymore.
Not when he holds you, and especially not when he kisses you as if it’s your last.
After the many hours spent celebrating, you couldn’t have been more enthusiastic about returning to your quarters.
Joined by King Bahng, you find traversing as easy as ever with the help of the (half) Beast behind you, helping navigate past multitudes of people, oddly comforting touch on your back guiding you through the hallways.
Arriving at your room, he pauses, awkwardly shifting his weight on his heels, bewitching gaze flitting left and right, uncharacteristic to his usually smug attitude.
“…Was the kiss too much?”
King Bahng, asking if his kiss was too much?
You wanted to photograph this moment in your mind forever, debating on whether you should tease him about it, egg the normally stoic King on.
However, you tip his chin down, pressing a chaste, soft peck to his lips, amusedly observing him freeze before melting into your touch.
“Could be better.”
He huffs a sigh in response, and you’re left wondering if this is the same man who threatened to break you, the one who now looks like a pouty toddler.
Although, just as you slip by, he takes ahold of your wrist.
“Goodnight Y/N.”
You crack a smile.
“Good night Chris.”
And, suppressing your chuckle, you close the door behind you.
Hastily undressing into nightwear and slipping into bed, you stare up at the ceiling, hours passing from the ticking of a clock in the corner, echoing around the room.
Then, abruptly, your door creaks open.
“My gods, what are you doing here?” You whisper into the darkness, the door creaking behind his crouched form, King Bahng’s crouched form.
“I needed to see you.”
Ah. Don’t say things like that.
Pulling the covers further over yourself, you squint accusingly at the man as he enters, silencing your urge to reprimand he saw you mere hours earlier, presumptuously sitting opposite to you.
He scans what’s visible, fixating on your hand for a moment.
“You kept the ring on?”
Noting the gleaming jewel on your ring finger, you can’t help but feel slightly bashful. It’s not like you’re really married, but the thought sends a sort of satisfaction spreading throughout your chest.
“If I take it off, will it become winter again?”
He grins, giggling childishly.
“Is that the only reason?”
Debating on your response, you wet your lips, looking back up at his barely distinguishable face shrouded in darkness.
You have no doubt he’s thriving off your hesitance.
Oh how badly you wish to wipe that look clean, but in reality, keeping the ring on feels as if a part of you from your own kingdom is with you, similar to your old clothing.
The part of you that, if not invaded, would belong to someone loved, newly wedded.
“No,” You mutter, though the phrase is barely audible.
He perks up.
“Hm?”
You regret saying that. But he’s already heard, there’s no use lying aimlessly.
“I said no, that’s not the only reason.”
“Care to tell me the other reason?”
Rapidly averting your attention to your hand, you discover speaking is easier when not looking at him.
“Keeping it on makes me feel like I’m really in love. I like imagining that, being married.”
You miss the sad lilt crossing his face.
“We are married.”
Without missing a beat, you meet his stare.
“Are we?”
Unlike before, there’s no waver to your voice, no caution.
Winding around to your side of the bed, he settles beside your feet.
You clear your throat.
“I wanted to see spring again, and to you, I’m simply a present. A playtoy to your disposal. This isn’t marriage, not how I was taught, this is just a business arrangement.”
Nevertheless, the hurt leaks into your voice. So long to a resilient tone.
“Y/N, don’t do this to me.”
Come to think of it, it’s the first time he’s ever called you by your name apart from last night.
Having had enough of his nonsense, you spring for his collar, dragging him below you on the bed. Opposite to earlier, you’re on top this time, you’re in control.
“You don’t deny it.”
A silence passes.
“I would deny it a thousand times, but you wouldn’t believe me. And I don’t blame you for that.”
He sucks in a breath.
“I only ask you don’t doubt this marriage. This isn’t a business arrangement, and I will treat you with as much respect and love as possible, even if you don’t want me too. That is what marriage is, how I was taught.”
It’s your turn to inhale, lost within the confines of this dark space.
“Chris, do you love me?”
You both have people you love, people you want to protect, wanted to protect. It wasn’t his intention to hurt you, not when he found you after you ran away, not when ordering a salve to keep you safe, nor now, as you lean above him.
Like he told you. You weren’t meant to survive. You were supposed to be peacefully asleep, forever.
This man, this Mage, this Beast, is as much a murderer as your savior. You choose how to condemn him.
“I do, more than you could ever imagine.”
How can you stay mad at a guilty man, a man who kept you alive when you were on the brink of death? Who now professes to loving you, wanting to give you a marriage you’d been cheated of, give you everything you’ve been cheated of with everything in his power.
Hovering right by his lips to the point your chests touch, you place a miniature kiss there.
“I hate you, so much.”
Then another kiss.
His arms, wrapped around your more elevated form, drag you down in an embrace. One hand presses your face to his shoulder, another rubbing circles on your back.
“And I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.”
Raising up, you can’t contain the tremor of your lip, the way your eyes shakily close shut as you steal a third kiss from his lips, a kiss he returns, hands carefully holding each side of your face.
“Chris?” You manage, currently straddling his lap, his body resting against the headboard.
Kindly, he keeps a palm against your lower back, helping you balance.
“Can you show me what it means to be loved?”
You never understood how a person could melt until this moment. He wears that look again, like in the forest. The look that makes you cry.
What love looks like for Christopher Bahng, you don’t know. You have no doubt there will be ugly moments, moments you’ll reconsider, rethink.
You’re both hurt, some wounds still hurting. But for him, for you, you’re willing to take that chance.
“I’d be honored.”
FIC TAGLIST. @stayceebs97 @duhgirl @yourgirljanvi @readr1221 @spearbinnie0327 @hyunjinsartpeice @cheesytangerine @palindrome969 @luminouskalopsia @kiaralynn3838 @chrizztopher97 @starlost-andfound @weeping-angel-in-the-tard1s @zaggprincess2
sunboki, may 2022 ©
#skz x you#skz x reader#stray kids x y/n#straykids x you#straykids x reader#straykids x y/n#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#bangchan x y/n#skz x y/n#bangchan x female reader#bangchan x you#bangchan x reader#bang chan x female reader#bang chan x reader#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x you#bang chan fluff#bangchan fluff#bangchan angst#bang chan angst#bang chan comfort
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So I was listening to this song here
https://youtu.be/s29fcv5E52Y?si=w7kH1W23tU7sxiJF
And thought of if Pet ends up getting freed or was able to get away from Vox she would become an overlord with a lot of power.
I actually love that song so much and it would match overlord pet so well and now it’s inspired me to do what overlord pet would be like
Vs Pet as an overlord
Warnings: murder, gore, illegal activity, drug use, mentions pet having sex but not explicitly, reader owns peoples souls
This is not canon but could be a non canon mini series if you enjoy it :)
In this situation, you made no deals with alastor or Vox
Your completely on your on your own in your journey for power
Or were you?
You lived on the streets for around two years in hell before you realised the potential it had
There were networks for the homeless, connections that could be made for trading of food or materials
You stumbled into trading one day after being particularly hungry and an older woman who also lived on the streets took pity on you and taught you how to steal from the public and trade the things you stole for food
After growing fond of you, the old woman told you that her name was Martha and reassured you that she’d take you under her wing until you learnt the ways of the streets
But Martha was quite old when she died and her hellish form was more frail then most, she was a very vulnerable person who could barely protect herself
After seeing you use your hellish abilities for the first time, Martha explained to you what soul deals were
She explained that she wished to make a deal with you, her soul in exchange for protection
You were shocked and initially wanted to refuse but Martha explained that it would guarantee to her that you would never betray her and she would never betray you
So you agreed, and Martha became the first soul you ever owned
After that it was a slow collection of souls, mainly strays from the streets who wanted protection or one of the younger souls needing protection
Martha taught you to be a gentle but assertive soul owner, you were never cruel to the souls you owned but you would always give them a reminder that you were in charge
With all the souls you had gathered also came shared profits, more money combined then any of you had ever seen
All the souls you owned turned to you when given the question of what you should do with it, and you were unsure
But Martha, being the wise mother goose she was, suggested that you opened a business up that would be profitable and also provide you an opportunity to rise up in the ranks
So you purchased a small club in the entertainment district
It was the first modern version of a club that had moved there in a while since no one wanted to compete with the Vs sex lounges or mimzys club
You were quite a success because of this, you were doing something you knew quite a lot about since you were such a party person when you were alive
You managed the music and used your ability to make your club irresistible
But you weren’t collecting souls as fast as you should be, you weren’t becoming powerful enough to make your lifestyle sustainable
And then an idea popped into your head, what did you learn about more than partying when you were alive?
Drugs
You began to allow for drug use in your clubs and even used one of the souls you owned who used to be a chemistry professor create a more intense type of ecstasy and you named it after your club and sold it exclusively at your club
So now your club sold specialised drugs and this put you on the map
You had customers lining up around the block to get in, and more money and souls then you could count
This eventually earned you a seat at the overlords meetings despite many overlords refusals
Some overlords found you to gentle to be an overlord, they saw you as an embarrassment because of your lack of cruelty in your deals
They thought you could easily be disrespected
So when a minor overlord came to your club and began to harass the staff and destroy the furniture, he assumed you would do nothing
He was incorrect
He dropped to his knees and covered his ears as you made it so he had a loud screaming sound in his ears
He begged you to stop and apologised over and over again, but you knew that if you wanted to be respected in the overlord community then you couldn’t show mercy
You raised the frequency of the sounds to an agonising level until blood dripped from his ears, eyes, nose and mouth
You kept raising it until his brains turned to liquid and chunks fell from his ears and nose
For the first time ever, the souls you owned and the public looked at you with pure fear
You had used your ability to record the overlords screams of agony so when you returned to the overlord meeting and there were people trying to mock you, you calmly just summoned the sounds of their friend dying a painful and long death
This impressed alastor greatly and made him put you in his attention as you intrigued him greatly
He had visited your club a few times after that but decided that it wasn’t his cup of tea after watching you snort coke off of a woman’s chest
You fell into old habits once you were in a comfortable position of power by becoming a bit of a playgirl who had lovers lining up around the corner to spend a night in your bed
You were always respectful of them and always made sure they were taken care of before and after sleeping with them
You intrigued alastor and you felt familiar to him, like you have in all the past au’s alastor had a strange connection with you
He invited you to sit with him and Rosie during the meetings and you accepted happily, finally gaining some connections
Alastor and Rosie found you just darling and Rosie treated you just like a protective mother during the meetings, having them both stand up for you and threaten anyone who dared mock you for your past or your gentle techniques
You were grateful and in your gratitude you made them a small quiet booth in your club for them to visit, and they would whenever you would be using your abilities to be the clubs DJ for the night to cheer you on like proud parents
Your playgirl style had caught the attention of Valentino and he felt curious enough to visit your club with the other Vs
Velvette and Vox already had a disliking towards you because you had invaded on their territory and your affiliations with the radio demon
But Valentino insisted and brought them along
Martha encouraged you to go over to the table since you were the clubs owner and they were pretty influential overlords who could possibly help you in the future
So you greeted them all politely and bought them all a drink on the house
Vox, out of curiosity and partly to spite alastor, demanded that you join them for a drink
Out of politeness, you did
They asked you many many questions about yourself and practically interrogated you all night
Their night ended with Valentino demanded you dance with him and you were having fun until his hands drifted too far down and you had to politely reject his advances
Because of your good relationships with some of the most influential demons, they brought more business in for you
In exchange you allowed them to rent out a room in the back for illegal meetings and trades as long as they denied doing it with your consent if they ever pissed off the wrong people
You were slowly becoming more powerful, you were no longer the little sewer rat you used to be
With the help of the other demons, you became an influential and feared individual
Life would have been great, if it weren’t for those friendships bringing you many many problems
You had Vox constantly watching you through any and all technology at all times, unless you had alastor nearby which would scramble the signal and effectively piss Vox off
You had alastor constantly using his abilities to try and change your club and make it into something that more matched his image and constantly trying to ‘take you under his wing’ even though you explained many many times that you were fine on your own
You had Rosie who would constantly antagonise Martha and looked at her as if she wished to kill her in a moment, she also had a nasty habit of trying to be a motherly figure towards you at times even when you didn’t need it which would be sweet but her way was so obsessive and violating that it made you cringe
You had velvette who had made it her mission to get you to join the Vs despite you not wanting to since you were successful on your own, she even tried to sabotage you a few times so you’d have to join them
You had Valentino, who was constantly trying to get you to star in one of his movies or he just hung around too much for it to be comfortable and it felt suffocating
All of these problems combined made you life extremely hard sometimes, especially when they would all become possessive or jealous and would drag you away from doing your work to make it so you’d be with one of them all day
But at least you were powerful
And at least you were free
That’s more then you could say for most people
Hope you liked this one, it’s a little silly but I’m tired and it’s the best I can do at the moment 😭
Tag list
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. ☆ ͡ ݂ The Antler Queen’s Reverie
Feat. Natalie Scatorccio
⊹ Details. 18+ only minors dni, dni if you’re not sapphic, afab reader, canon divergence, set in the wilderness at s2 finale, cheating (emotional and physical in nat and travis' relationship), discussions of cannibalism, allusion’s to cannibalism, mentions of canon character death, allusions to compulsory heterosexuality, blood consumption, biting (til it bleeds), reader is described as being able to have viable bruises, reader is described as having fingers carded in their hair, making out, scissoring, love as consumption.
⊹ Runtime. 4.5k
⊹ Note. Natalie is canonically eighteen by the season two ending and her actress is nearly twenty-three, peace and love she is above age, don’t like don’t read! If you do read I hope you enjoy <3
Travis sleeps in front of the dying hearth, warmed by the still hot embers and the feeling of a full belly. It’s pleasantly lavish, even when his back will inevitably grow frigid with goosebumps beneath the thick plaid blanket that covers him because he is assuaged. It’ll last him the next few days, perhaps even a week if he’s lucky, before they’ll have to tap into their reserves and Travis will be reminded of why his plate is filled with more than belt-soaked soup. For now, he rests easily, for the first time in the ten months they’ve been trapped. Sleep comes to him before his head even reaches the lumpy pillow that used to be Laura Lee’s– it no longer smells of the vanilla perfume she wore until the day she died, only Lottie missed the scent or even noticed.
Natalie sleeps comfortably in Dead Cabin Guy's bed, nestled behind a shoddily built pine wood door. Coach Scott has disappeared but no one voiced concern if they had any left for the man. Nat takes the opportunity to relish the modicum of privacy the room provides. If Shauna could hole herself up in the attic the moment Lottie was well enough to lay with her acolytes, then Natalie could give her body the much-needed reprieve and sleep somewhere either than the uneven floorboards of the cabin.
It’s quiet, too quiet without Van’s snoring, the crackling fire, and the sounds of creaking wood as Mari tosses and turns to get comfortable. The Wilderness was already suffocatingly silent, in the warm months it wasn’t so bad. The woods were alive, the June bugs buzzed and the trees swayed in the breeze. It was easy then to pretend the sounds of wildlife were no different from the constant thrum of the trailer park she lived in a lifetime ago. She’d learn that in the winter months, the mountains of snow that blanketed the greenery shut everything else out. They could yell but their voices would bounce back at them and be swallowed up just as quickly as it was uttered.
Natalie found herself staring up at the thick wooden slats that made up the roof, eyes heavy and wet with unshed tears. There was nothing to distract her idle mind as it replayed the events of the day. They looped in her mind like a broken VHS tape. Jackie’s necklace burned against the column of her throat but she couldn’t bring herself to take it off, it wouldn’t make her forget the feeling of a dull blade pressed against her skin by shaky hands or the way bitter wind whipped across her cheeks as she ran.
The worst part, the thing that kept her mind racing and her body unable to settle into a restful sleep was her lack of regret. Guilt didn’t eat away at her stomach the way it was supposed to. When she thought of the fear that filled Coach Ben’s eyes and how his expression crumbled when she confessed her sins to him, Natalie felt nothing. She should have felt sick, she should have been consumed with such grief that it killed her but Natalie felt nothing of the sort. The tears that sat idle in her eyes weren’t for Javi but they should have been. They were for her.
Her head snapped towards the door, the sound of the floorboards groaning under the weight of someone made her heart race more than it should. In the dim light that bled through the thin space between the door and the floor, Natalie could see a pair of feet. They hovered nervously, shuffling around without any real intention of coming in.
Natalie learned at a young age to tiptoe and glide around without making a sound. It was better to make herself invisible than to risk the wrath of her father who more often than not was in some drunken stupor. Whoever is behind the door doesn’t scuttle away as she approaches until Natalie tears the door open and a shrill gasp fills the otherwise silent cabin.
It’s you.
Your lips settle into an apologetic smile, backlit by the warm glow of the dwindling fire you look angelic. The comforting blend of oranges and yellow that danced across your skin could have made Natalie forget how terrified she was when you looked at her like a starved lion gazes upon a gazelle.
Ten months ago you and Natalie were best friends. In definition and in the eyes of the team. Natalie never had a best friend, Kevyn was the closest she’d ever come but it was different than when she was with you. Now, Natalie wasn’t sure.
That was in the before.
Before the crash, before they feasted upon human flesh, before they had become grievous creatures who ceaselessly craved.
Natalie whispers your name, her neck craning to peer over your shoulder. The group rests well. Their chests rise and fall evenly from beneath their fur pelts and moth-bitten blankets. Lottie manages a peaceful expression despite the bruises and scabs that still mar her skin.
“Is something wrong?” Natalie asks, her frostbitten hands wringing together nervously.
You avoid her inquisitive eyes, your chin bashfully pressing against your chest, “Can I come in?” You question, the tip of your worn sneakers dig into the floor as you nervously twist your foot back and forth.
She wordlessly steps back, her arm extending outward to usher you forward. The muscles in her legs ache the longer she stands and her chest still hurts but it doesn’t take all of her energy to move like it did the day before. You follow her timidly, the door clicking shut behind you.
The sparse amount of moonlight let in by the tiny window obscures your face from Natalie but she can see you holding something out to her.
“I thought you might be cold,” you whisper, it’s a blanket, the one you had brought with you from home, “Since the door was closed and there’s no fire pit in here.”
Your sincerity was startling. Natalie’s chest clenched and another round of tears threatened to spill past her eyes. She was never one to cry and never this often but she hated how small she felt.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”
Daring to step closer, you press your blanket against Natalie’s chest, silently willing her to take it from you. She stands numb before you, her hands hung limply by her sides, “Won’t you be cold?” Her voice comes out louder than she intends for it to and she cringes at the sound.
You wordlessly shrug your shoulders. The clothing you packed wasn’t made for the Canadian winter but for the Seattle spring. The thin leggings you wore beneath your soccer shorts weren’t enough to stave off the chill, neither were the leg warmers you made out of Jackie’s shirt. You’d get sick if you went to sleep with nothing but the others body heat and hearth to keep you warm.
“I’ll be fine, I have others,” you say as you go to grab one of her hands.
Your touch burns but it’s not unpleasant. It’s the sort of simmering heat she wishes she felt when Travis took her hand in his earlier than night but, Natalie would chalk it up to being too buzzed on adrenaline to feel anything other than her heart rattling her rib cage. She expects you to shove the blanket into her outstretched fingers and scurry back to bed. You don’t leave, instead, you thread your fingers into hers. The gesture is tender, ten months ago she might have scoffed and asked if you were starting to get soft on her. Now Natalie just stared haplessly at you, torn between running away and tugging you closer.
It’d be nice to be held, sleep wasn’t coming to her. None of this felt real, her new position or their fealty towards her. Would she not be cast aside just as Lottie had should one of the others rise up as she had? When rations ran out like they always did they’d hunt again, she could just as easily become the prey once more. Her heart raced erratically at the thought but she couldn’t seek the comfort she craved from Travis, not when it was her fault that Javi was flayed to be feasted upon.
“Nat?”
Natalie blinks blankly, her focus snapping back to you, “Sorry,” she quickly muttered, grabbing the spare blanket from your hands, “Uhm, thanks for this.”
“Are you okay, Nat?”
It is a stupid question and you know it. You were not so far removed from societal convention to be deluded that placing a crown atop Natalie’s head soothed the pain that made a home in the soft spaces between her bones. No one had asked her how she felt, if she was unharmed, they were too ravenous to think of anything other than the desperate gnawing that twisted their stomachs inside out. She couldn’t blame them, the prospect of flesh ground beneath her molars had Natalie salivating.
Shrugging her shoulders, Natalie turned to her bed. It was rather small and lumpy, one of the springs poked through the surface of the mattress but it was big enough that the two of you could lay down together comfortably.
“I’m fine,” she croaks, brushing a few strands of her brittle hair away from her face, “But, do you think you could lay down with me? It’s too quiet in here, I can’t sleep.”
This was not a moment of weakness, Natalie never needed anyone before and she never would. It was simply a test, one to see just how devout Lottie’s acolytes would be to their new queen. That was how Natalie rationalized the unwanted tug of loneliness that pulled her toward you.
You appeared surprised, but you quickly masked your shock with a quick nod of your head, “Of course I can,” you smiled warmly at her like this was some sort of sleepover and not a death sentence, “Honestly I never understood how Tai and Shauna could sleep in the attic, being alone like that is … unnerving.”
Swinging her arm toward the bed, Natalie wordlessly gestures for you to slide between the sheets before she can change her mind and cast you from her space. You lay on your side with your back pressed against the wall. It’s an oddly familiar scene one that made her belly churn. If Natalie closed her eyes she could pretend that the two of you were sharing a bed at an overnight game like you had a dozen times before.
Your arm loops loosely over her stomach when she sinks into the mattress beside you, the willowy curve of her hips fits snuggly into your pelvis. She can feel your chest softly rise and fall and soon her own falls in time with it. The intimacy of it all makes her skin itch
“Travis doesn’t deserve you,” the words are whispered just as Natalie’s eyes had grown heavy with sleep, the syllables are formed against the curve of her ear. “He never has.”
Your confession is filled with irony and is beyond laughable. He had been the one to blindside the group in the hopes of giving Natalie a chance to survive while you had held the knife. First to Travis’ throat and then to hers as you joined the others in the hunt across the glacial hellscape that was the Wilderness. If there was undeserving of having her in their presence, it was you, so deceiving in your docile demeanour and soft-spoken words, ever so eager to appease whomever was in charge to cover your hide in times of stress with false loyalties.
Natalie remains silent, pretending to be lost in the throes of slumber as you continue on, “If was unfair of him to grow so angry with you for trying to spear his feelings after Javi disappeared,” you grumbled, “There is no way he should have survived for so long out there in the cold, all on his own.”
Bile lined the length of her throat, her stomach churning.
“You were only trying to help and what does he do? Turn to Lottie … I even heard him saying her name in his sleep.”
A spattering of goosebumps rises on Natalie’s skin when you nuzzle the frigid tip of your nose into her neck, your arms tightening around her middle.
Misplaced blame continued to fracture and splinter any semblance of trust that bound the group to one another. Natalie should not have felt the hot, shameful burn of envy ripple through her at her words, Travis was grieving as he continued to lose piece after piece of his soul but she did. Jealously stewed in her gut and bled out her pores.
She and Travis were tied together by the shared pain of lousy fathers. useless mothers, and circumstance. What was stopping him from moving on to Lottie, she played no part in his brother's death. He’d done it once before at doomcoming with Jackie when sex with bullies over a lifetime ago was the biggest betrayal he’d ever experienced.
“You might be right,” Natalie said with a morose laugh, “But, there aren’t many options in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
It felt good to speak of him as if he were only a warm body that kept her well satisfied in the dark of night, a quick dig to hit him where it hurt while he was sound asleep in the other room, defenceless. Turning to lay on the flat of her back, Natalie squinted to read the pensive expression you wore.
“There are far more than you think.”
“Who, you?” She joked, nervously swallowing.
You looked as serious as you did when you were studying for the SATs, biting the team's head off every time they tried to get you to take a break. Granted, Taissa was annoyed you were distracted during games and Jackie was trying to keep the peace but still, Natalie had never seen you more serious until now.
Natalie forced out a laugh as if that would diffuse the growing tension that turned the air sticky. Your gaze remained trained on her visage, your lips pressed into a thin line, “Why not,” you whisper, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, “I could treat you better than Travis could.”
Her mouth grows dry, and too many buried feelings threaten to unearth themselves at the prospect of entertaining what you are suggesting. Back home, there were rumours like in any high school that surrounded the girl's soccer team. It’s why Jackie kept getting back together with Jeff even after she swore she was finished with him. Natalie tried to suppress it, she didn’t need to give the Wiskayok high any further ammunition to torment her with but it lingered there like a dark-figured to taunt her during sleepovers with the team or when they got drunk and decided to play kissing games because it meant nothing.
Natalie never partook. She flipped them off and staggered off for a smoke in the hopes of quelling the strange feeling that compressed her chest. You always looked a bit disappointed when she refused to have “fun” with the group.
“Yeah, right,” Natalie said, her voice strained, “Your longest relationship was back in middle school and you guys lasted a week.”
“You’re being mean,” you whisper with a pout.
Natalie always knew where to hit you where it hurt most.
“And you’re being stupid.”
She tried not to look at your lips, they were inviting. Though you hadn’t said anything else, she could feel some telepathic pull toward you. She could do it, kiss you that is. They were going to die out there, any lingering tendrils of hope had long since been extinguished. There was no reason why Natalie couldn’t kiss you just this once to satiate her curiosity before you both eventually met your demise.
However, it would not have been as lovely as it would have been if Natalie let you kiss her last winter at Lottie’s eighteenth birthday party. You had been hanging off her side most of the evening after pounding back one too many shots with the birthday girl. Natalie didn’t mind babysitting you, she hadn’t been in the mood to party that night and you could at least hold your liquor well enough that she wouldn’t have to hold your hair back with you spewed chunks all over the Matthews' pristine rose printed carpet like Akilah did at the last rager.
You asked Natalie to kiss you on the back porch between puffs of the cigarette you bummed off her. She might have done it too had Laura Lee not ushered the two of you back inside, rattling on and on about how you were bound to get sick before the next game if you didn’t warm up. Natalie thought about that night a lot before burying it away lest she become haunted by it. You smelt of strawberries like you always did and she wondered if you’d taste like them too.
“What’s so stupid about having feelings for another person?” You asked as if you weren’t encroaching into dangerous territory, like Travis was nothing but a distant memory, “Or wanting to act on them so we can die with no regrets.”
There was something refreshing in knowing Natalie wasn’t alone in her line of thinking but that must have been why the two of you bonded all the way back in freshmen year.
“We’re gonna die out here and I’ve made my peace with that but I don’t want to die a virgin like some loser when I know you don’t love Travis.”
The conviction in your voice makes Natalie shrink beneath the blankets. Maybe she didn’t love Travis and maybe she had never known what love truly felt like but that didn’t mean anything. High school sweethearts were destined to crash and burn like their plane had. Natalie could only imagine what would transpire between her and Travis the longer they wrapped their veins together– nothing good, nothing good ever blossomed where Natalie was concerned.
Placing your hand on Natalie’s cheek, you turned her face toward yours, “So don’t settle because you’re afraid,” you whispered as you leaned closer, “There’s nothing out here to stop us from indulging in everything we couldn’t have out there.”
The Wilderness chose Natalie, it chose her as the next leader and now it presented you, ripe on a silver platter with skin so juicy you’d burst if she took a bite. It’d but rude to deny it now, wouldn’t it?
Your touch was gentle and surprisingly warm. It felt far better than anything she had previously experienced. Natalie felt herself being drawn closer to you, her lips just barely grazing against yours. Her breath fans across your mouth for a short second before she captures your lips in a kiss. It wasn’t anything spectacular or radically different from all the other times she had kissed someone but Natalie didn’t feel this odd twinge of shame after it was over like she usually did.
Her hazel eyes studied you for a moment afterward, trailing over the rounded curve your mouth sat in and the crinkle that grew between your furrowed brows. She wondered if it was disappointing, the kiss you’d spent a year waiting for. But, she wasn’t able to ruminate for too long before you were rolling on top of Natalie and cupping her face between your frost-bitten hands. The chapped, crackled skin of her lips splintered open when you nipped at her bottom lip. The heady, metallic taste of blood dabbled upon your tongue stirred a pleasured moan that travelled up your throat to spill against Natalie’s mouth. Natalie burned with mortification as she swallowed up the wanton sounds that leaked from your lips. When you licked your tongue into her mouth, she could taste it too and she liked it.
It satiated the relentless hunger that gnawed at her insides most days. Regrettably, she still felt it even after their feast hours earlier but the longer you pushed the taste of her ichor around with fevered kisses the less starved she was. Natalie knotted her hands into your hair, further tangling the dulled and dried strands as she fervently chased that pleasantly full feeling she’d never felt before. Her thighs slipped open to allow your hips to slot between them.
“I’m so fucking hungry,” you rasped into her mouth, your nose pressing against her jugular, “You’ll let me eat you, won’t you?”
The innuendo isn’t lost on Natalie and tomorrow she might have laughed, once the head-splitting need for flesh subsided. Your canines sunk into the thin skin of her throat, a dangerous gesture that sent a rush of adrenaline through her. Natalie let out a raspy moan, roughly tugging on your hair as you laved your tongue over the hot, pulsing teeth mark you left.
Shaking her head at your suggestion, Natalie muttered a quick, “No.”
Your disappointed whine was stifled by her bringing your mouth up to hers. There was something else that rattled around Natalie’s mind, the image had been seared into her head for months before she was able to banish it from the forefront. She’d seen it once whilst coming down from her high with Kevyn. One of his friends queued up some cheesy porno from the ‘80s that was just so outrageous he had to show everyone so they could all point and laugh. Natalie didn’t, she left after twenty minutes when her limbs had begun to work once more, the image of two women’s limbs tangled together replaying over and over again as she walked all the way across town to the trailer park where she lived.
Neither of you should have been stripping down but Natalie tugs off your pants to placate your impatience, intent on replicating that scene. The frigid winter air that seeps into the cabin nips at your bare skin and you shiver in her embrace. Natalie strips you until you’re left in your frayed panties and thin, long-sleeved sleep shirt. You tear her clothing off in return, carelessly throwing them aside as if body heat was enough to fend off the eternal frost the forest had been plunged into.
“Take them off,” Natalie gruffly instructs, nodding her head at you, “And then come here, I wanna try something.”
You take her instructions well and she bitterly wishes it hadn’t taken you so long to trust her instead of drinking Lottie’s Kool-aid. The mattress dips under your weight as you kneel, the palm of your hand laying flat against your navel, just itching to inch lower. Natalie’s eyes travel past your belly button to the thatch of curls that sits just below your pelvis. Biting her lip, she swallows thickly.
Her stomach roars with hunger.
Slowly dragging her underwear down her legs, Natalie rests against the headboard, her legs spread. Your eyes widen at the sight of her bare pussy, her lips slick with arousal. Looping her hands around your waist, she tugs you to straddle her lap. The position was a bit uncomfortable at first, the lingering burn and fatigue from sprinting for the first time in months making your legs heavy like lead.
A full-body shudder wracked through you as Natalie’s warm, wet cunt pressed against yours, “Like this?” You moan, experimentally rolling your hips, “This feel good?”
You asked her in earnest, peering down at her wide eyes like a puppy waiting for its owner to praise them. Mari often looked to Lottie like that, it was oddly thrilling to see it directed at her.
“Yeah, just like that,” Natalie groaned, your name ground beneath her teeth like a slab of meat, “You could even…”
Natalie’s fingers tremble when she reaches between your bodies to spread your lips apart to expose your throbbing clit. The swampy pit of heat that swirls in her gut seeps through her body, your expression is utterly debauched and dripping with lust. She moans before you do, revelling in the obscene, squelchy sound of your cunt sliding against hers. Your pebbled nipples poke painfully through your shirt and press flush to Natalie’s as you bury your face into her shoulder.
Cursing under your breath, you keen into her skin, “You can touch me more,” you pant between laboured breaths, it's laughable how easily years of condition eroded within a measly few months, “I need you to, Nat, please.”
She obliges you with teeth and tongue mashed along the column of your throat, sucking a matching bruise into your skin. You taste of salt and soot and something earthy like pine. The layer of grime that clings to your skin shouldn’t have been as intoxicating as it was but Natalie found herself feasting on the taste of you, raw and unmasked from soaps and perfumes, she suckles down until she feels the throbbing pulse of blood that fills your carotid artery.
That pleasant, warm feeling Natalie could only ever achieve on her own crept up on her. Its unbidden presence filled her with disappointment, it’d all end too soon but she couldn’t stop the wave of pleasure that washed over her. The sharp edge and press of your nails into the skin of her biceps only fuel the tumbling cascade of her orgasm as you desperately rut your cunt against hers, both of your clits bumping into each other.
Natalie’s teeth pierce the skin of your shoulder as she cums, the taste of your blood filling her senses. She grows drunk on it, mindlessly rolling her hips into your pliant body until you cry out her name, the syllables broken by yowl-like moans. Your bodies, sticky with sweat and arousal meld into one another when the familiarity of exhaustion whips through you, the kind that leaves you lying listlessly on the cabin floor for hours on end until Mari boils water and pine needles and serves it up.
Wordlessly nuzzling your face against hers, you plant a gentle peck against Natalie's hallowed cheekbone, “Natalie I-” whatever sappy sentiment that dripped off your tongue was smothered by a more pressing question, “Do you smell smoke?”
Beneath the thick layer of sex that hung in the air was the scent of burning embers. It was far heavier than the curling puff of smoke that typically permeated the stagnant cabin air. Natalie wanted nothing more than the turn over and curl up with you, to soak in the fleeting tendrils of reverie that girls like her were never affording but something itched at the back of her mind.
It was hot, suffocatingly so even with the ever-burning hearth.
The best way to kill a yellowjacket was to scorch its home, Natalie should have known it was too good to be true. The Wilderness was revoking its blessings, smoking out the vicious wasp nest that fed on its milk and honey for far too long without thanks.
Shauna’s panicked voice carried down from the attic and feet shuffled as they awoke from their full-bellied slumbered but neither of you moved. You lay half naked and needled with shock, peering at one another in the darkness when the reminder of your situation becomes glaringly obvious.
The cushy daydream of indulging your appetites where nothing but just that, a daydream. You had to run now because it was better to be starved and alive than nothing more ashes blowing in the wind.
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#yellowjackets x reader#yellowjackets x you#natalie scatorccio x reader#natalie scatorccio smut#wlw smut#x reader
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date ideas for them
✧ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: had this idea and thought it'd make for a nice post. i love sampo so much. geppie is kinda cute too. writing for luka has made me realize the guy is literally a shounen protagonist. 2,5k words
✧ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: gepard, bronya, sampo, luka
✧ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: long way home — walk off the earth
✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: "sampo is a masked fool" theory is canon to me at this point
✧ Going to the Flower Shop
Gepard loves flowers and likes taking care of them (even though he always manages to mess up). So what better way to introduce you to the softer side of him, the man far removed from the front lines, than to take you to the Eversummer Florist Shop? Gepard may struggle to keep his flowers alive but he's quite knowledgeable when it comes to the meanings of them, medical uses or where they're found in the wild. The florist just smiles at you from the side, remarking how well-informed your boyfriend is about this. He'd wrap his arms around your waist and quietly explains the different kinds of flowers to you. He seems so soft in this moment, so different than how he can be seen commanding the troops. You smile, glad that he is able to take a break from duty, and kiss his cheek gently, causing Gepard to blush. You let out a quiet chuckle and make sure to get him some flowers that show how much you love him sometime soon.
✧ Gardening
He's aware that this is not everybody's cup of tea. If you don't want to help him with his garden, you're welcome to watch from the sidelines and play some music to relax to. Before he starts working on the garden, Gepard makes sure you have some drinks and snacks. If you do decide to help him, he'll happily show you how to tend to the flowers. If you decide to watch instead, whenever he passes you by to get some additional supplies or tools, he can't resist pressing a kiss to your lips. He swears to himself that this time he will manage to grow something worthy of being given to you as a gift.
✧ Singing together
You're the only person he feels comfortable enough around to practice his singing with. He can actually play the piano, something he learned to do as a child as his father never allowed him to play with the "peasant children". He's by no means as skilled as Serval but when you tell him that you find his voice soothing, his cheeks redden a little and he thanks you, snuggling up to you. Gepard makes it his personal mission to learn how to play the songs that are your favorites at the moment. If you're up for it, you two can sing together while he plays the piano.
✧ Indoor Picnic
It's clear that having a nice picnic outdoors in Belobog might be a little bit cold and uncomfortable but luckily, Serval is willing to help her little brother out a little and lends him her shop after hours for a day. She definitely teases him about it but he puts so much effort into organizing this picnic for you. He hangs up pretty fairy lights in the workshop and prepares a comfortable blanket and pillows for you to sit on. He cooks all the food he presents to you himself and it tastes really nice. He puts up some candles and scatters some rose petals as well and when he's done, the workshop looks very different from before. He's trying to look confident when he asks you to come in and shows you the result of his hard work but he gets so flustered again, especially upon seeing you having dressed up for the date, that he stumbles over his words a little. You just chuckle and press a kiss to his cheek, leaving his face with a soft and loving smile. Serval definitely wants to know all about how her brother's date went once it's over but she's going to have to wait for that because there was no way you wouldn't be staying with your boyfriend for the night after how sweet he has been to you.
✧ Ballroom Dancing
Bronya doesn't know much about love and going on dates other than what she read in books as a child or picked up from other people's conversations. She has been pretty sheltered as a child and now that she knows you like her too, she's wracking her brain; wondering what date to take you on that would make you happy. Luckily, Seele is there to help her out. "Duh, you're an overworld princess. You literally have the whole of Qliphoth Fort at your disposal. Take them ballroom dancing or something!" Bronya is very thankful for this suggestion from her friend and makes sure to invite you to a private evening in the ballroom. She gets you a pretty dress or suit you would like to wear and she herself wears a stunning ballgown herself. At first she tries to apply her customs from the balls she attended growing up; especially because she is nervous and essentially already has a memorized collection of proper etiquette for this type of situation, but soon she finds that around you, she can be a lot more light-hearted and casual. You guys end up giggling and trying out all sorts of dances in the big dance hall whilst playing music Bronya would have never expected herself to play at a ball. But this evening with you feels unrestrained and freeing and she knows that she wants many more days like this.
✧ Spa Day
This is right up Bronya's alley. Qliphoth Fort has a private spa for the Supreme Guardian and when Bronya has worked a lot and feels exhausted or tense, she loves nothing more than to take you there for a relaxing day together. You take a swim in a brine bath together, visit the sauna and do all sorts of spa treatments at your disposal. Bronya chuckles when she finds you falling asleep against her in the hot tub. She presses a kiss to your forehead and wraps her arms around you.
✧ Playing Video Games
This one was your suggestion when you learnt that Bronya; having essentially been raised as a princess and on the technologically underdeveloped Jarilo-VI, has never played a video game before. She's very curious herself to try them out so you sit down on the sofa for an afternoon and you introduce Bronya to Honkai Star Rail's version of Mario Kart whilst you try out all sorts of snacks Cocolia never let Bronya eat. At first she's a little lost at which buttons to push and why the game works the way it does but she gets the hang of it pretty quickly. And she's very competitive. Definitely shoots you a triumphant grin when she sends your character flying off the racing track. She isn't afraid to play dirty in this game and teases you about losing but soothes you with a gentle kiss to your lips.
✧ Going to the Theatre
Bronya loves to hear the singing that comes from the Golden Theatre so going there on a date is a must for sure. You check out the theatre program together to decide on a play both of you are interested in and Bronya gets you the best seats in the theatre. You smile at her from the side during the play upon noticing how captivated and excited she is about seeing the play and hearing the songs from it. The intermission definitely involves sneaking around the theatre with her and kissing away from all eyes.
✧ Visiting a Fun Fair
Sampo isn't even from Jarilo-VI, so he's ready to leave at any time if it's for taking his beloved on a nice date. And what location would work better for a man like Sampo than the fun fair? For him, laughter and jokes are what gives life meaning and he's experiencing first-hand how much your laughter adds to his life. So the fun fair works in his favor. He kisses you passionately in the mirror labyrinth; pecking at your lower lip repeatedly and trailing kisses down your neck, whispering against your skin to keep your eyes closed because he has a nice surprise for you. When he tells you to open them again, Sampo is way further ahead in the mirror labyrinth, having the time of his life watching you trying to find your way back to him. He's wheezing at this point and you swear to yourself that you're going to get back at him for this. You decide to forgive him when he buys you cotton candy and wins you the most cursed plushie they have at the shooting booth. Sampo also loves to scare you in the haunted house and recount "fun" tales of rollercoasters crashing around the universe when the coaster you sit in starts moving slowly. Some of them are so absurd that you're certain he made them up. He loves to joke around with you on this trip and holding your hand as you walk across the fun fair.
✧ Visiting the Circus
Out of all shows you could take Sampo to watch, aside from a comedy show, the circus is probably the most entertaining for him. He enjoys the whole vibe of it. He gets roasted almonds and candy for you two to snack on while you watch the circus show. You have to be careful with Sampo because he's absolutely the kind of person who'd raise his hand when someone in the ring says "okay and now I need two volunteers".
✧ Spending an Evening at the Tavern
This is Sampo's world. He takes you to a masked fools tavern, introducing you to the people he tends to spend his time with and showing you what he's usually up to when he's not travelling and scamming people. He gets you a pretty mask that fits you and definitely shows you off to anyone who asks with the most proud smile ever. You two listen to the other masked fools recount the stories of the chaos they caused and you back Sampo up when he talks about his time on Jarilo-VI. If you're up for it, he'll happily dance with you to the upbeat music the bard plays. He also plays the masked fools version of poker which is just like regular poker except that aside from losing money, the loser also has to do weird and funny dares. Basically, Sampo makes a complete fool of himself and that's the point. After all, those moments of laughter are the ones he wants you to remember whenever you have a bad day.
✧ Pranks
Sampo would love if you help him with his shenanigans. He's up for pretty much anything he finds funny, whether it's scamming people with you or hanging up hand-drawn "Vote Sampo Koski for Supreme Guardian" posters in the dead of night. He's so proud if you're able to come up with a good scam for him. He kisses you and tells you this is why he loves you so much. He also gets a kick out of hiding from the Silvermane Guards with you after one of his many pranks, having you pressed against his chest and kissing you while the guards are looking for you. If you're able to bring any chaotic ideas to the table for what pranks you could pull together, Sampo's heart is yours forever.
✧ Sparring together
Luka is a formidable fighter and he can teach you quite a few things about fighting if you want to. Of course, he goes easy on you but he'd love to teach you a few techniques and have a few playful fights. He's definitely not above distracting you with his kisses and affection before you land on the ground and he reminds you not to let your guard down like this.
✧ Riding a Motorcycle
Luka doesn't have a very high opinion of the overworld, but once the two layers of Belobog are no longer divided, he does think it's worth checking out with you. So he gets a motorcycle ready to take a drive with you. He's very thorough about making sure you're safe and he's a good driver; although the ride is definitely still adventurous with Luka. He does this at night so you can see the city lights pass you by and enjoy the atmosphere of freedom and the cool air of the night. He stops at a vantage point to look out onto the city with you and you talk about all sorts of things that are on your mind while watching the people of the overworld go about their business. Luka wants to get a meaty fast food snack for both of you. If you'd rather like to eat something with a lot of vegetables, he'll fulfill your wish but he definitely cringes at the idea of eating something like that himself. Luka is open to teach you about how to drive a motorcycle yourself as well if you don't know, having his arms wrapped around your waist and guiding you during your first few tries. He makes sure both of you wear safety gear and he thinks you look absolutely stunning in leather gear. He bonks your head when both of you wear your helmets.
✧ Stargazing
For the more quiet nights together, Luka takes you stargazing. He sets up a picnic blanket on a roof in the city and after eating dinner, the two of you lay down on it and look up at the stars. Luka knows the constellations but he's much more interested in what you see in the stars; both literally and metaphorically. These are the moments where he gets a little more sentimental and quiet, telling you about his dreams and what's in his heart. Luka is definitely a dreamer with unwavering determination and you find listening to him to be quite inspiring. You could be the most pessimistic person out there, you couldn't help but to hang onto every word he speaks, especially if he drives them home with his lips on yours. There is always that glimmer of hope in his eyes that you wish to protect with all you have and now you understand why he fights. If it were for protecting Luka's smile; you'd fight your way to the end of the world. Your boyfriend is still gazing up at the vast space above but you are already lost in his eyes instead, eventually snuggling up to him to confess to him how much he means to you and that your dream is to spend this life and all that follow by his side.
✧ Karaoke
Luka isn't the most outstanding singer out there but he thinks karaoke is fun, even if he cringes at himself sometimes during it. He's fine with doing karaoke in front of an audience or in a private room rented by just the two of you. He gets you some fun and fruity cocktails and he's done his research, learning the melody of all of your favorite songs so he can sing them with you. He definitely gets lost in the songs, especially the upbeat ones. You can't help but burst out laughing in the middle of the song.
#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail fluff#luka x reader#hsr luka#hsr luka x reader#sampo koski#sampo koski x reader#sampo x reader#hsr sampo#sampo#sampo x you#gepard x reader#gepard x you#gepard landau#gepard landau x reader#gepard landau x you#bronya rand x reader#bronya x reader#bronya x you#bronya
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ninjas' relationship with a home
Zane is used to moving on from places, as an amnesiac orphan he was used to getting up and carrying on, then his only temporary home, the Monastery, burns down (ref: s1 ep2 Home) and the others blame him for it. granted, he seems unaffected from these accusations and proceeds to find the Destiny's Bounty that day so all is forgiven
I wonder if some of this longing for a home was intensified after he regains his memories in Tik Tok (s1 ep7). because then he would be able to remember a time of prolonged safety and living with people you love
Kai and Nya lived at the blacksmith shop presumably since their parents got kidnapped by Krux and Acronix. Nya even had enough time to create a whole secret room of armor
the first years must've been especially hard given all the reminders of their parents being around. did they leave their bedroom untouched, save for the occasional cleaning?
did Kai have to pull up a stool to the stove to cook until he hit his growth spurt? are most of Nya's memories in that house of Kai making her lunches and tucking her in at night and sending her off to school?
who takes care of the shop while they're gone? and when they come back do they notice everything looks a little smaller- each corner thick with dust and the fingerprints of afternoons when they were 12 and only had each other?
Jay lived with Ed and Edna in the scrapyard since he was little and he can visit back there whenever he likes, but now he has another family to think about: the one he never had, the one that gave him away
however after Skybound he knows he has other parents as well. does he ever sit in the kitchen he grew up in and wonder if his biomom had any recipes she wanted to pass down? if she ever saw families or little kids and thought of him? if they have the same smile or same freckles or same laugh?
sure he can learn about Cliff all he wants and he loves his Mom and Dad dearly, but was there more? could he have learned to master lightning with his Mom? where was she when he was growing up? was she unable to see him or unwilling? is she even alive?
Cole's house is likely the same as when he was little, so he too can go visit, but I wonder if he went off to "boarding school" because after his Mom died he couldn't stand to be at home
what was a place to laugh and paint became gray when Lilly got ill. it turned into a place of hushed voices and packed bags for the hospital. after she died it was the home of yelling, of arguments, of tradition vs. passion. smiles became forced and doors only slammed shut.
with more time having passed, I wonder if Cole is glad that so many things of his are mostly untouched since his Mom died. he can find her neat handwriting on some notes in his desk, in books on the shelves, and point out decor she bought
Lloyd only had a complete home for a small part of his childhood before Misako left him at Darkley's. then, he must've lived somewhere close to the school. when he was doing Pythor's bidding, he seemed to be mostly homeless
after growing up deserted at a boarding school (that he clearly didn't like) and manipulated into long treks and homelessness to do the bidding of a snake, perhaps his misbehavior at the beginning of his stay on the Bounty was because he couldn't imagine it lasting. him? a place where he felt at home? better the devil you know than the devil you don't- just toss me back out on the streets I don't CARE!
when do you think he realized that the others weren't going to leave him like his Mom did or take advantage of him like Pythor? how many months in did it take him to realize that his uncle Wu wasn't the only one who wanted him there?
any particular ninja y'all want me to focus on drop in the tags or replies- I'm real interested about this now
#ninjago#lego ninjago#zane julien#cole brookstone#nya smith#kai smith#lloyd montgomery garmadon#jay walker#kid lloyd#misako garmadon#IS AWFUL#sensei wu#lloyd garmadon#lilly brookstone#lou brookstone vague mention#master of lightning#cliff gordon#ed and edna#dr julien#ray smith#maya smith#ninjago headcanons
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So I've seen some people talk about how Belos ruined the human Realm for Hunter by possessing him and killing Flapjack and that's why he was ready to go back to the Demon Realm, but honestly I take a slightly different interpretation.
Having grown up in an abusive home that I managed to escape from the scene rang with extreme familiarity and felt like it was depicting what happens if you reach a turning point and and are able to find the strength to fight back against your abuser. (Which is great to see in kid's media, love it, it's so encouraging wrt to your *right* to think your abuser is jackass.)
I mean at the end of the day, Belos had already "ruined" the Demon Realm, too. It was the place where Hunter was abused and manipulated. People have pointed out in some meta that he talks about "that throne room" the way abuse victims talk about "that house" when talking about where they were abused. Because that throne room was where he emotionally abused and if the implications about physical abuse are right, it's where he was likely physically abused as well, because of the privacy there.
We see the throne room is the private place where Hunter is expected to drop to a knee and bow before him, and to stay mostly still even as Belos nearly strikes his face. It's the place where sometimes it's only Hunter and Belos, where he's free to hurt him all he wants, with words or blows.
That said, I do think the human world was very good for him and definitely a revelation. It was a place where the nearest adult, Camila, was kind and nurturing and willing to take on parenting a whole gaggle of kids, constantly trying to figure out what's best for them (hence the trying to figure out where to find apple blood and their diets, etc).
It was safe for him to take up soft, non-combat hobbies useless to being a Coven guard like sewing (gently taught to him by Camila, a kind adult) to pick up nerdy interests like cosplay and basically being a Trekkie, and to wear comfy sweaters (and crocs!) instead of things with utility or decorum.
The human world being a place without Belos made him feel safe enough to be a normal teen. Openly. Not in secret, talking to online friends on Penstagram on his Scroll where Belos couldn't see (a hugely accurate thing for a lot of abuse victims, online friends being a lifeline).
But unfortunately Belos was there, and alive, and as long as Belos is alive he's going to try to hurt Hunter, his home realm, Hunter's loved ones, and their loved ones.
After Flapjack dies the worst has happened. Belos came after him. Again. He literally controlled his body itself, and bored his way under his skin. Given he was consuming the flesh of animals and how he was back to full size after leaving Hunter, and Hunter was injured in the spots where he was goo, and needed to be healed, he possibly even dissolved and consumed some of his body.
And he killed his first friend - and lbr his best friend. With Hunter's own hands.
But the thing that makes it not just about something bad happening on Earth is that he still clearly loves parts of his home realm. There are things there he's always wanted that he still wants to have and tells Belos as such. Being a normal student at Hexside. Flyer derby with his friends. Learning about wild magic and Palismen-carving. He still calls it "home" probably in part for all the things there that he wanted to have growing up that Belos wouldn't let him. Things he's ready to fight for.
He loves things in both worlds, and Belos is clearly a threat in both worlds - a threat Hunter finally managed to resist. And even though Flapjack died, Hunter's still alive to fight because of his sacrifice.
He's ready to fight to make Belos pay for his deceit, abuse, and forced isolation; for trying to kill his world on the Day of Unity; for attacking his friends; and for his Palisman's murder.
It doesn't seem like he's leaving the human world because it's ruined, it comes off more like he's finally overcome his fear enough to go back to reclaim the world where he was abused because it's the home of his friends and because of all the good in it he always wanted to have. It's time to go home and make it safe enough to be home.
Yes, he looks exhausted, but he's the first one to go through after Belos, which is pretty fearless. It doesn't read like defeat, it reads like he's ready to walk through the portal and send an old man straight to hell.
#thanks to them#the owl house#toh#hunter toh#meta#cw: child abuse#spoilers#season 3 spoilers#s3e1 spoilers#the owl house spoilers#toh spoilers
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Fairy Queen Titania, wife of King Gloxinia, originator of Tír na nÓg
Loooong character bio/story summary because I struggle with writing long fics!! I wish I could write a whole story about these two and their relationship but know I wouldn't finish it ;;
Her special ability is Wither, any living thing she touches will decay almost instantly — excluding fairies as their bodies don't rot even in death and she isn't able to turn it off. To compound her destructive nature, Titania isn't capable of any of the nature-nourishing magic that is innate to the Fairy Clan. Because her special ability is similar to an aspect of the Fairy Kings' ability, Disaster, but only the aspect of decay, Titania was surrounded by skeptics.
In her young life she was subtly outcast from the community by her fellow fairies. Titania spent decades of her life lonely and despising the fact that she was failing her duty as a fairy until she met the King of Fairies, Gloxinia. Gloxinia was curious about Titania's abilities as he noticed that even though Wither was destructive in the moment in following decades all flora that grew where Wither was used came up healthier and heartier, though Titania and the other fairies had their doubts.
The two spent years together trying to understand how to get control of Wither, though Titania was holding out hope that he would a way to remove her "curse" permanently. Slowly, the attempts to help her shifted into spending time together simply because they enjoyed each other's company. Gloxinia had it as his personal mission to try and make the sad woman smile with tricks or jokes or games, anything he could to try and lift her spirits.
It was through that closeness that they were able to learn that Gloxinia himself was able to neutralize her decay ability, just by being capable of using Disaster. With Gloxinia, Titania was able to feel safe enough to spend more time with the other fairies and finally experience what living as part of the community was like. Though Titania still felt like an outsider or a guest, rather than a complete part of the Fairy Clan.
Using her magic, Titania created an island for herself called Tír na nÓg, the effort she spent nearly ended up killing her. She only survived thanks to Gloxinia finding her and getting the help of the other fairies to heal her. The creation of Tír na nÓg granted Titania an immortal lifespan as her magic is tied to every living thing on the island. As long as a single blade of grass grows, Titania and any mortal being will live.
Tír na nÓg was the first place that Titania truly safe and comfortable, as she could walk around without worrying about upsetting anyone as she withered the flora around her. Only those who are given permission can set foot on or even find the island. One could search for a thousand years for the Land of the Young and never see its shores. It's Titania's own safe haven. She granted permission to her dear friend Gloxinia and it became a place for the two of them to spend an untold amount of time together, relishing in each other's company.
Eventually, their relationship evolved past companionship into love and eventually marriage. As it was the wedding of the first King of the Fairies, it was a gathering full of friends and love. Even the ever-anxious Titania was more rambunctious and lively, keeping the party alive until well into the next day with singing, dancing, and drink. On her wedding day, Titania truly got to experience being herself, wholly and unapologetically.
On the first night they spent together as a married couple, a nearby flower was made to bloom from the joy Titania felt and once she noticed it she was so overwhelmed at being able to create life for the first time, she cried while holding it. Gloxinia blessed it to never die and tucked it into her hair, his first gift as her husband and her most treasured possession.
However, following the ancient Holy War and the disappearance of Gloxinia as he joined the Demon Clan, Titania's joy came to an end. Without Gloxinia there to tether her to the forest, she retreated to Tír na nÓg permanently. No one within the Fairy Clan knew what happened to her and for thousands of years, until the unsealing of the Coffin of Eternal Darkness and Gloxinia's return.
Wanting to know the fate of his wife, Gloxinia asks Gerheade and the other fairies if anyone has heard anything about Titania as no one seems to mention her. Through them, Gloxinia learns about her vanishing but no one can say for sure what became of her. Taking this as a chance, he asks those at the Boar Hat to keep an ear open for rumors. He confesses that no matter how hard he tries he can't find Tír na nÓg and suspects that becoming a demon severed his connection.
Tír na nÓg might have been her personal paradise but he's sure she would have allowed other misfits like her to find refuge in its eternal paradise. Eventually, a lead turns up and brings them to an old woman with a much darker story to tell than Gloxinia is expecting. The old woman spent time on Tír na nÓg herself as one of the immortal Fair Folk. As a young woman, she was mistreated by the people of her village when one night a beautiful young woman appeared and offered her a place in paradise.
She spent years in Tír na nÓg, living in a place of beauty and bounty when she met a man she would soon fall in love with and wanted to return to the mainland to raise a family. The ruler of Tír na nÓg refused to allow them to leave, viewing the rest of the world as an inescapable hell, and warned them of the severe consequences if they should ask again. So the lovers devised a plan to escape the island that was as much a prison as it was a paradise. Under the cover of night for weeks they built a boat to flee on. When the night to escape came, the forest began to shake and shudder and rot as the full power of the ruler of Tír na nÓg approached them.
The man sacrificed his chance to escape and shoved the boat out, promising to distract the tyrant holding them prisoner and promising to find her. And so the old woman has been waiting for decades now, alone in her home. She laments leaving the love of her life behind, knowing that if he's alive she's aged well beyond her beautiful prime and fears for all the other poor souls that the tyrant has preyed upon. Her sweet voice promising the outcasts of society a home and safety only to chain them like dogs in a beautiful, immortal prison.
The woman's story lives Gloxinia reeling. He can't imagine his dear, sad Titania being capable of that level of cruelty but he also knows just what grief can drive someone to do. What it drove him to do. Gloxinia asks the woman if she knows any way to get back to Tír na nÓg which she confirms, giving him some stones from the shore as anything taken from Tír na nÓg can lead someone back. After expressing his gratitude, he takes the stones and returns to Meliodas to decide what to do next.
The group follows Gloxinia as he heads to Tír na nÓg and is unsettled by the eerie atmosphere and fog that hangs over the island. Screamers attack as they make landfall and quickly hide to avoid the sight of a fairy woman patrolling over the forest canopy. Slowly making their way through the forest, they encounter a village filled with terrified humans who beg them to bring them back to the mainland. The commotion is cut off by a man matching the description the old woman gave of her love, a man named Nico, who explains the reason the island is in the state that it's in.
Titania, the tyrant of Tír na nÓg has been using tricks to bring humans to the island against their will, even going so far as taking children and babies from their parents and replacing them with changelings if they weren't loving them enough in her eyes. Following the escape of one human woman, his beloved, an enchanted fog appeared around the shores, choking anyone who attempted to leave. It seems day by day, Titania falls further into madness. The island has been subject to earthquakes for the past few days as the ruler of Tír na nÓg is punishing them but no one knows for what reason. Gloxinia promises that he can fix this and when questioned, he simply smiles and says it's his duty as a husband to soothe his wife.
Their conversation is interrupted when a woman spots them talking to outsiders, flicking between everyone before calling them traitors and sprinting away into the forest to inform Titania. The man urges them to do whatever they're going to do quickly as they might not survive the day when Titania finds out.
Gloxinia hopes that Titania might come to her senses as soon as they reunite but the constant unending attacks from Screamers, the mysterious fairy, and the forest itself make him question his optimism. And sure enough when face to face with Titania, her eyes tinged with mania, those hopes are dashed. She calls them thieves and begins attacking. Gloxinia tries to calm her but for years Titania was tortured by visions of Gloxinia and believes him to be another one.
During the battle, Elizabeth asks why she's tormenting the villagers. Titania says she doesn't want to do any of it, they just need to give back the thing that they stole from her. It's then that Gloxinia notices the flower that he gifted her isn't in her hair but he can sense his magic nearby. He orders the others to hold her off while he finds it but makes it clear that if they hurt her too badly there would be hell to pay. Ban shoos him off saying they'll do whatever they need to do to make sure she doesn't kill anyone. Gloxinia isn't amused.
It takes some time and he's forced to fight the mystery fairy girl — Oberon, loyal attendant of Titania — but eventually Gloxinia finds the flower in the village. And it's utterly torn to shreds. Gloxinia picks up the damaged petals, looking utterly heartbroken when Nico appears behind him. Gloxinia asks if he was the one that destroyed the flower, which Nico confirms. He resents Titania for keeping him trapped here as one of her Fair Folk while the woman he loves will wait for him until she dies. Destroying the only thing she seems to treasure felt like a fitting punishment after she destroyed his happiness.
Gloxinia thanks him for his honesty and promises that Titania won't find out who stole the flower. He doesn't blame Nico for doing what he did but tells him that as her husband he can't stand knowing how sad she would feel if he didn't return it to her, then flies back towards the battle.
As he appears back on the battlefield, Oberon has joined Titania, even though she's injured. The pair of them look exhausted, having to take on the Sins but not too worse for wear. He flies up to Titania, offering the shreds of his first gift to her, and in an instant Titania begins crying - utterly horrified by what's happened to it. She swears she's going to kill everyone on the island but gets cut off by Gloxinia kissing the tip of her nose and chiding her for crying over something so trite.
In an instant, he injects his magic into the flower, healing it and restoring the bloom to full vitality. Titania is stunned, not believing her eyes before slowly reaching out and touching Gloxinia's face to confirm he's really there and not a hallucination. Once she confirms it, she utterly collapses into him, apologizing and begging for forgiveness but once again he chides her for her dramatics. He tucks the flower back into its rightful place in her hair before embracing her properly and finally kissing his wife again after three thousand years apart.
Following Titania's return to her senses, she returns the children to their families and allows everyone to leave Tír na nÓg. To her surprise, some choose to stay. As long as Titania is the same kind, just queen she was when they first arrived they're more than happy to stay. Oberon hands Titania a magic stone they can communicate through and says she'll take care of the Fair Folk while their queen spends time with her husband. If they need anything or she needs them, a message into the stone is all it will take. Nico doesn't hesitate to climb on the boat back to the mainland, ready to finally be with the love of his life again and fulfill his promise.
Gloxinia is just happy to be with Titania again and show her the world, the new fairy forest, whatever she wants as long as they can stay together.
#seven deadly sins#nanatsu no taizai#gloxinia#sds#7ds#nnt#sds oc#seven deadly sins oc#7ds oc#oc x canon
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SOME ANDREIL/NEIL/ANDREW CODED SONGS (in my humble opinion)(with links to listen)
(because i have the biggest brainrot, they’re also just great songs so please give them a listen!)
Neath The Grove Is A Heart
Yaelokre
“Home is where we are now. Home is where you are. Home is where I am standing. Where I'Il be staying forever now”
this entire post is just gonna be my biased interpretations of songs but honestly the entire song gives vibes to me…the places that one would refer to as “home” being a constant ever changing cycle of different places, never being able to stay and settle in a physical place. but finding a home in someone else.
Room By Room
Shayfer James (I’ve almost exclusively been listening to him, so the rest of the songs are his oops)
“If the keys in my hand turned a lock of your hair I would walk through the glance, but I'd stop at the stare. And I'd follow it down To the very last step and I'd wait by the room where your secrets are kept”
THOSE ARE THE FIRST LYRICS cmon mannnn,,,learning the brutal past of someone you love as they allow you in, do i even need to say it?
First Date
Shayfer James
“Tell me your story, and I'll tell you mine, I think we will get along fine. Tell me your riddle, I'll tell you my rhyme, I think we will get along fine. And if the rules change, don't hesitate to say you've had enough of me”
It’s literally the whole beginning of their relationship, a truth for truth, trade for trade. The game of, maybe not necessarily originally trust, but of mutual understanding that grows into trust and respect.
Your Father’s Son
Shayfer James
“So if you're any good at bluffing, I suggest you do it quick 'cause everyone is next to nothing, and every tock will have a tick. It fits so well. What you've become is your father's son which will never be much of anyone”
Oh Neil, you poor boy cowering in the shadow of your father, his legacy locked within your image and the face you share with him. No matter what new name and identity you create, you know your father will never be far behind, you will always be his son. At least, that’s how it used to be.
Learning to Be Lost
Shayfer James
“I am a plagiarized autobiography of wreckage, a shipwreck in sheep's clothes. Be patient with me, I am learning to be lost. Don't be gentle. Never gentle. Be mindful of me, I will sink at any cost”
This I feel resonates more with Andrew, but one could argue resonates with both. They both have tortured pasts that are unspeakable to almost all but each other, but Andrew shoves that past and those memories behind a face of calm indifference and apathy. But they are both navigating a relationship with each other that they are unfamiliar with, and didn’t necessarily intend to enter. As they reveal bit and bit of their pasts, they don’t want pity or sympathy, their pasts are what created them and they refuse to be treated as though they are broken, especially Andrew.
Lullaby
Shayfer James & Kate Douglas
“People can't be trusted and we have to fight to stay alive. We'll always be the enemy, oh. Eye for eye and limb for limb, The blood that I've been swimming in, oh. Mother, I've grown tired of this. Mother, I've grown tired of this. There's beauty and there's empathy, some people might've cared for me. I hid my heart, and stayed inside, instead of moving with the tide”
THIS IS ALLLLL NEIL BABYYY. Blindly continuing to follow his mother’s words and advice, she kept him safe for so long after all (in her own way). He trusted that she loved him, wanted to protect him, but he missed out on so much because of her. Missed out on friends and life in general, people who might have been able to actually help him. If it wasn’t for meeting people more stubborn than him, for wanting to just exist for once, he could’ve been on the run and never settling for so much longer. Or have died.
Carve A Smile
Shayfer James
“And with every kiss you make a better man of me. The safe disguise of accidental lies won’t hide us here, no more, my dear. And I would sacrifice the air that makes my body breathe, if it keeps you safe”
They are both so willing to put themselves in harms way to protect the other, even before they came to realize just how much the other meant to them. Andrew with the intention of winning, and Neil half the time not caring if he ends up dead as long as Andrew is alright.
PLEASE DROP YOUR OWN SONG REQS i love good music.
anyway if anyone has actually made it to this point thank you for listening to my babbling. I can associate any and every song i listen to to whatever i am currently hyper fixating on and i need to express it outwardly. Hopefully yall like the music at least, even if you disagree with my interpretations!
#I cannot express how badly i wish i could animate or make comics so i could really show people what i see when i hear these songs#pls give me song recs#i see and hear them everywhere#i cant escape#i love them#the brainrot is real#andreil#andrew minyard#neil josten#aftg#neil aftg#andrew aftg#all for the game#the foxhole court#music#aftg trilogy#nora sakavic
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Love your Luke relationship headcanons! How about headcanons for Luke x Force sensitive reader where you meet after ROTJ?
Thank you thank you thank you, this means a lot to me! I hope you will like these as well🫶🏻
• okay so I think for this we are going to assume you are about Leia's and Luke's age, maybe a little bit older or a little bit younger
• based on that lets say you had a similar childhood as well, growing up with a loving family in a loving home, leading a calm and uneventful life
• when you came of age you maybe wanted to help build the New Republic, simply travel or seek out a certain education
• due to the extinction of the Jedi order before or shortly after your birth, you know nothing about it, even less so about the Force
• maybe you were told some bed time stories when you were a child, but those always seemed too far away, too fantastical to be true
• unlike Luke you did not have a desert hermit, that then turned out to be the former Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, come and pick you up for an adventure around your twenties
• neither did you encounter Yoda on Dagobah or faced down Darth Vader and the Emperor; at this time the only known force sensitive people still alive
• you weren't introduced to the matter, no matter how brief, like Luke was
• and since it's mentioned during ANH that everything to do with the Jedi is dismissed as an old religion, useless and outdated (at least by many), it would have been pretty much impossible for you to even know about your force sensitivity
• however you and those around you could have noticed certain special abilities of yours when you were growing up
• maybe you had a way of easily getting what you wanted, being so charming that hardly anyone could resist you
• maybe you often managed to be "in the right place at the right time" without planning on it
• maybe you always had an uncanny way to follow your intuition (e.g. because of a gut feeling, a dream, etc.) in certain situations that strangely turned out in your favor
• maybe, just like Anakin, you were and still are exceptionally talented when it comes to something requiring quick flexes and incredible focus
• maybe you are so "empathetic and understanding" that one could think you are able to read their mind
• despite these more or less obvious signs nobody thought anything of it, least of all you
• everyone has something they are good at after all and so that was that
• when you meet Luke he is probably the one that will, after enough time spent with you, recognize your little "quirks" as what they really are
• even if it might take him a while
• he just fought a war, found and lost his true father and had to say goodbye to many loved ones
• also he has shouldered the burden to rebuild an ancient order from scratch and additionally wants to support Leia in her political aspirations
• plus, for most of his life, he wasn't aware of his own force sensitivity either, so spotting it in others can't be easy if you still have a lot to learn yourself
• what was noticeable right from the beginning though, was the way you immediately gravitated to each other
• or rather, how you were drawn to him like a moth to the light
• obviously you are attracted to him too (many are, let's be real) but there is something else about him, something so familiar and intriguing, you simply can't stay away
• before even speaking to him once you feel a strong urge to be in his company
• you never had a crush this intense
• (you are not aware this is not just a simple crush but the Force making sure your paths cross; instead you think you've gone slightly insane)
• also I feel like crushing on him during that time would be like crushing on a celebrity; he's not just some guy anymore, he's THE Luke Skywalker
• but because he's Luke, he doesn't let it get to his head; in fact he is rather embarrassed about all the attention
• so, following your intuition, you try to seek him out whenever you can, unconsciously using the Force to do so
• this will create lots of very embarrassing moments for you though
• you find, you have a tendency to zone out as soon as you spot him and often get caught in places you have no business being in
• it's like your brain just short circuits in these moments and everything around you fizzles away
• the more you try to stay away the worse it gets until, finally, he notices you as well
• he's really busy, okay?
• but since he feels pulled in your direction as well, he will make time for you
• in the beginning it's just for a little chat here and there
• Luke enjoys these, especially because you seem genuinely interested in him as a person and not only view him as "the hero" or "the last Jedi"
• so eventually he will ask you to spend more time together, for example inviting you out to take a trip to a market with him
• or, if you're a good mechanic, to tinker around with his x-wing
• I like to think that there is always a lot of discreet blushing and shyness involved, mostly on your side (on Luke's too but he hides it much better)
• glad that the war is mostly over and he can focus on other things (you), Luke is happy to do so and you grow close rather quickly
• this too is somewhat unusal, war changes people after all, and for a while Luke was somewhat withdrawn
• through meeting you he slowly comes out of his shell again
• even more so when you find out about the certain similarities you have
• while it took him a while to open up about it, you love listening to the way he talks about his life before the war and following that, especially about his time with Obi-Wan and Yoda
• in return he's curious about you as well and more and more are you able to find parallels between each other
• you dare to admit to the way you felt about him since the very beginning then, trying your best to describe that strange pull towards his person
• he immediately understands what you are trying to convey, has experienced it himself with Yoda and then you
• he shares his thoughts and together you come to the conclusion that you are either force sensitive, will be playing an important part in his life or both
• he decides to teach you all that he knows so far
• if that's what the Force wants, who are you two to deny it, right?
• while outwardly ever the professional, he's secretly relieved, even thrilled to have another reason to spend more time in your presence
• from the outside it's painfully obvious how much you like each other; meanwhile you both stay unaware
• you are convinced Luke doesn't return your feelings, instead only seeing you as a close friend
• he deeply buries the part of him that desperately wants to pursue a romantic relationship with you
• attachment is not allowed and it troubles him a lot
• (Leia is loosing her mind)
#ask#luke skywalker#star wars#fanfic#headcanons#luke star wars#star wars fanfiction#luke skywalker x reader#luke skywalker x you#star wars a new hope#star wars empire strikes back#star wars return of the jedi
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This is going to be long so the short version is this:
I convinced my therapist to watch the 🌟Gay Pirate Show🌟 and now I have to confront a previously unidentified and terrifyingly deep emotional wound that could be as transformative to heal as it is terrifying to approach.
My therapist and I have a lot of let's say...demographic things in common that have made this the most successful therapeutic relationship I've ever had, but also that just made me think he might like the show. It's no secret that ofmd has been a deeply moving experience for its viewers, and queer, neurodivergent, and/or people of color have written at length about the special ways it touches us (or doesn't). Those are three categories both he and I fit into and it feels relevant to say that for context.
So yes I thought he might like it, but I also wanted to pick his brain about Big Feelings it was giving me that I hadn't experienced with the same intensity with other media/fandoms. Y'all, he gave me a completely unexpected reading on the show (and its story and its fan works) and why it makes us feel So Much that I haven't seen anywhere before.
When I say Big Feelings, I mean like I've literally had to swear off a couple of pretty innocuous categories on AO3 ("Growing Old Together" and "Domestic Fluff") because they would devastate me in ways that I couldn't attribute to anything specific. Growing Old Together comes with the possibility of death separating them, which is heartbreaking, but that didn't feel like it was the thing that was gutting me. Domestic Fluff could probably be called the most innocuous tag ever, but anything that saw our blorbos settling down and watching the Revenge sail off into the distance was fucking me up as well.
There are plenty of reasons why OFMD makes queer people feel so much, but when I say this was fucking me up I mean like, well, remember when people outside of classical music started learning about appoggiatura? Like intellectually knowing why I was crying but at a loss how intense everything felt. And my therapist (who is as good at analyzing a text as he is at being a therapist) was like "oh, it could be all the grief."
The grief.
The audacity of this motherfucker (affectionate).
It's a romcom! It's a romcom that we were explicitly told would have a happy ending! It's a romcom where the characters will get to sail off into the sunset together like they want and like we want for them! Stede and Ed, after four decades of self-hatred and trauma and fear and isolation, somehow find each other. And one of the sweetest things about their story is that it's a late in life love story, because it's incredibly inspiring for someone to get to experience a part of life they thought wasn't for them. The inescapable fact that their time together will be shorter than any of us would like is sad but not unaccountably sad to me, because of how much joy they'll be able to cram into the time they have left. I could be wrong but I don't think that alone is the source of what's been overwhelming me.
Grief is a constant presence in the world-building and the storytelling because grief is a natural response to well, so many things about being alive. Grieving is some of the hardest shit any of us ever have to do, but it's also so universal and so many of the things that make us uniquely human also make grieving well, maybe not easier, but something we can endure and process through ritual, community, and the example of those we've witnessed grieving their own losses. Many kinds of grief come with narratives that you can accept or reject all or parts of, but the narrative exists.
But have you ever heard of disenfranchised loss? Loss that's not easily labeled or classified or given the time or space or understanding it deserves? Have you experienced a loss like that? Can you imagine how much more difficult it makes the grieving process?
Well what my therapist suggested, the thing that knocked me on my ass hard enough that I had to come have Online Feelings about it, is that eventually, we all have to mourn ourselves. Not necessarily in a "mortality is inevitable" way (that happens to everyone) but in ways that are often unique to people like him and me (black, ND, queer). Even if we work on ourselves, if we grow and heal our trauma and feel at home in our identities and our bodies and build beautiful lives, eventually we will be forced to mourn the selves that we never got to be in the societies in which we live and the selves we once had to become to survive this long.
And that mourning is a kind of disenfranchised loss, with no clear path forward. Obviously this conversation happened within the context of everything my therapist knows about me as an individual, but I thought certain things might resonate with other fans as well so I wanted to talk about it. The story of this bizarre little man and his remarkable second act and his lovely little found family and his incredibly beautiful love story (that we've been guaranteed will end happily) is still haunted by the specific kind of grief that comes from learning what's possible, and regretting that you didn't know it was possible sooner.
And does anybody have more delayed milestones, later-in-life discoveries, and/or need to invent places for themselves than those of us on the social fringes? Than those of us in societies unequipped for (or actively hostile to) the ways we exist and the things we need to survive and thrive? Than those of us who have to create our own narratives or be saddled with inaccurate or harmful narratives created by others, or even no narrative at all?
And narrative is so much. Narrative is everything. Narrative is the story we tell ourselves and each other and that literally shapes our reality. So those story beats where we discover something better than what came before are inherently stories with loss and will require mourning, because we mourn loss.
Even when the story has a happy ending. Especially when the story has a happy ending for someone who never thought they would be allowed to have one.
I mean just like, FUCKING HELL. I can't blame anyone for this but myself. I know my therapist. I know how insightful he can be. I did this to myself and now I have to live with it. But my god is it a massive mountain I'm about to have to climb now. My therapist and I have always found it helpful to discuss media that makes me Feel Things (see all the trauma work that came from Life is Strange) but if you had told me that I'd be looking into this new dark cave of unprocessed shit thanks to what I thought was just gonna be a harmless little gay pirate show starring fucking Murray from Flight of the Concords I would probably just have assumed you were in the middle of having a stroke and taken off to get you the medical attention you desperately needed.
#not to be dramatic#but I definitely worry this might still be dramatic#my therapist is great#but the problem with a good therapist#is that sometimes they will fucking read you#and then you get whiplash#don't be afraid to bring up media that speaks to you in therapy#you never know what might come of it#or how much it might shake you#I should also be clear that all this grief in a story with a happy ending isn't a bad thing#it just kind of is#and when you enjoy it#just enjoy it#every moment of joy is a gift#no matter the context#go ahead and grieve yourself#also I couldn't find an elegant way to fit this in#but the storytelling is very neurodivergent#or at least unfolds in a way that is friendly to my neurodivergence#that's why I'm not a big TV watcher anyway#but I was able to sit down and mainline this#it's the first new show I've watched in literal years#ofmd#our flag means death#ofmd meta#our flag means death meta#🤯🤯🤯#😳😳😳#disenfranchised loss
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@smallchaoscryptid's Spiderbit week day 3 soulmates/late nights
The mark bloomed impossibly early in their relationship. As in almost on their first touch. Cellbit wasn't even sure he was capable of forming a soulmate mark. Yet as Roier was helping him stand up from being knocked, flowers started to bud on the skin under his palm. And where Roier’s hand was on his own skin, a matching plant starts to grow.
-
Hyacinths. According to the book on flowers that Tallulah had lent Cellbit they are hyacinths, the mark has grown considerably, enough to be able to tell what plant they are but the flowers have yet to bloom.
Under the flower was a story. The Greek god Apollo’s friend killed by a jealous wind god, and instead of going to the underworld his soul was turned into a flower and planted in the earth. A hyacinth.
-
The buds had finally bloomed. Cellbit had betrayed them, and they bloomed. Deep purple. Somewhere Roier remembers vaguely hearing the meanings behind the colors of the flowers decorating the inside of his arm. But he only remembers when he sees the hyacinth laid on top of the book addressed to him in the hidden chest. Regret.
-
It was easier to put on a smile than most days, everything was perfect, well almost. Quackity almost blew the venue up with everyone inside, there was a bit of a murder and Bobby. Bobby would have loved it. He was there, the sun was shining as always, but it wasn’t the same. But now? He was in bed holding his husband matching pink flowers decorating their arms. and maybe he could move on and maybe one day he would be able to smile for real.
-
Cellbit was angry, the federation has done nothing but lie. The bear has done nothing but laugh at him and his misfortune. Every single lead they have had on the location of the eggs has ran itself dry. He's tired. Tired of being used, pulled around. Laughed at by that stupid bear. He only sleeps when his husband drags him up to bed and flops down on top of him.
It's hard to pin when the flowers shift blue, they only notice it after they promise to stay by each other’s side no matter what.
-
The thing that drove him, let him continue to search was the mark sitting on the inside of his arm. His soulmate. The flowers had shifted and bloomed into a deep purple. Regret. It had changed to purple during purgatory when Roier finally couldn't even put the energy into bringing himself to smile. How could he? He broke his promise.
Not only do the flowers symbolize his husband, but shows that he is still alive, breathing, out there. He was still there, still alive, and regrets staying on that island. And that was enough. They were both alive, they survived, they still loved each other. And Roier was certain they would see each other again. He just needed to find Cellbit. Wherever he may have ended up.
-
Soul marks can fade, Cellbit knows this, it happens all the time. Flowers can die just as they bloom, but the hyacinths that mirror the now vivid blue ones blooming on his own arm are gone, they're not there on the inside of Roier's arm and he has no idea how to feel about it.
That's a lie. He does know how to feel about it, but he is never going to acknowledge those feelings. Instead, he is going to learn how to do a sick ass kick flip and maybe he can also learn to let that mark fade, die out and wither away. Maybe one day he can learn to let go as Roier did.
Was this supposed to be happy? I promise this was supposed to be happy it just kinda got away from me and yeah.
I wasn't even intending to do something for this spiderbit week, but uh my greater qsmp soulmate au has decided to whisper sweet nothings into my brain, and now im looking up flower language during work.
I love soulmate aus, and honestly, soulmates of choice? That's the good shit. I could ramble about this AU for hours.
#smallchaoscriptid spiderbit week#spiderbit#Qsmp fic#spiderbit week 2024#garden of fic#Greater QSMP soulmate AU
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— ENDLESS WINTER. TEASER a Christopher Bahng fiction
Christopher Bahng x fem. reader
TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst
WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing
WORD COUNT. estimated around 12k
AUG'S NOTES. me and my inner thoughts… as a fic 😭 i cannot believe this is my longest writing yet!!! hopefully you enjoy!
SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.
alternatively :
Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.
Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.
Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.
Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.
Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.
She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.
Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.
Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.
Growing, learning.
Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.
However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.
A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.
Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.
Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.
Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.
Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.
The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.
The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.
Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.
Had been peaceful.
A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.
Your blood runs cold.
Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.
Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.
Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.
A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.
Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.
Smell.
Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.
So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.
Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.
Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.
Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.
Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.
It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.
Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.
It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.
Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.
For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.
You won’t leave, simple.
As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.
That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.
Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.
Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.
Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.
Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.
A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.
Shoot!
The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.
However, your success is short-lived.
Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.
Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.
First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.
Beast.
With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.
This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.
“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.
His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.
The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.
Mage.
Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.
His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.
“One remained, huh.”
sunboki, may 2022 ©
#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#stray kids x y/n#straykids x you#straykids x y/n#straykids x reader#skz x y/n#skz x you#skz x reader#skz fluff#skz angst#straykids angst#straykids fluff#stray kids fluff#stray kids angst#bangchan x y/n#bangchan x you#bangchan x female reader#bangchan x reader#bang chan x female reader#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x you#bang chan x reader#bang chan fluff#bang chan angst#bangchan angst#bangchan fluff
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Time after time
As the God of Stories and Keeper of Time, there are many who would seek Loki's counsel. Some find the answers they are looking for, others do not.
Or, five people who go to Loki seeking answers for themselves, and one person who seeks an answer for Loki himself.
Rating: General | Words: 1.3K
Read below the cut, [click here for AO3]
The first one to locate him at the end of space and time, of course, is O.B.
Loki smiles as his old friend appears at the bottom of the stairs to the Tree of Time, huffs when the man nearly falls on his ass as he takes in the sight of the billions of branches that Loki guards by his will and power alone.
“Ouroboros,” Loki greets, as O.B. reaches the summit and they are face to face. “Welcome.”
“Loki,” O.B. breathes, both awed and horrified at once. He doesn’t fully grasp the meaning of Loki’s duty, but as always, seems determined to make sense of it.
“Is this really—how is it—are you okay?” O.B. finally asks, settling on asking after his well being over any questions about how all of this works. Loki feels warmth bloom in his chest at the question, and nods.
“I am,” he answers truthfully. He is more than okay. He is alive in a way he did not know was possible, he is everywhere and nowhere at once, he is lonely and yet never alone.
“Does it hurt?” O.B. asks. “How many branches are you holding?!” he adds, trying once more in vain to count the branches of time by sight alone.
Loki pauses and places. He gives O.B. a number that makes the man’s eyes go wide as dinner plates as he tries to comprehend the true meaning of infinity.
“Can I see you again?” O.B. asks later, when his time is up and his special Tempad screams at him to leave. He still has so many questions, but not enough time to ask and answer them all. It’s okay. Loki has all the time to spare.
“You are welcome anytime, old friend. Give the TVA my regards.”
--------------------------------
His second visitor is Stephen Strange. There is an active threat to his universe, and his quest for answers has brought him to Loki.
“You are not as I remember you,” Strange tells him once Loki has provided the wisdom that the man sought. “The Loki I knew would never have been able to bear this.”
Loki simply shakes his head.
“I am not the Loki you knew,” Loki says simply. “That Loki perished in the war with Thanos, and my path diverged from his long before that. ”
“A Variant then?” Strange asks. “How—”
“Your time grows short, Stephen Strange,” Loki interrupts him, sensing the fraying occurring in the man’s universe. “Go. The answers you seek shall guide you.”
Strange’s eyes widen, but he nods, and soon he is gone.
--------------------------------
His third visitor is another Loki.
“How can this possibly be our glorious purpose?!” his variant screams at him. “How could you let us be forgotten like this? What good is a throne with no subjects to love you?”
Loki shakes his head and sighs. This Loki is shortsighted and does not yet understand the weight of his responsibility. He will soon learn, one way or another.
“You never wanted the throne,” Loki tells his other self. “You will not find the answers you are looking for here.”
--------------------------------
It isn’t long before Kang the Conqueror arrives. He has come for Loki’s title, his throne, a claim that his position is his birthright, and that Loki had unfairly stolen it from him. Loki laughs. This Kang is nothing compared to the Kang he once knew. The arrogance is the same, but there is not nearly enough power to back his claims, even with the power it took to even locate Loki in the first place. He growls in frustration when he is blown back to the bottom of the stairs with barely a flick of Loki’s fingers.
“I have overcome you and your variants before, and I will again,” Loki tells Kang. “You will not find victory here today, or tomorrow…or ever, really”
“We’ll see about that,” Kang spits angrily before he stomps away, unable to do much else. From over his shoulder, Miss Minutes appears and sticks her tongue out at him.
Loki knows this is not the last he has seen of this Kang, or any Kang. They will all come for him, for the branches that make up the multiverse. They will try to do what the Kang who ruled the Sacred Timeline has done, and Loki will always be there to stop them.
--------------------------------
Though he knows he is coming, Loki is still not fully prepared when Thor appears before him. Loki knows this is not quite his Thor, his Thor still lives blissfully unaware of the multiverse, and Loki was taken from his altered timeline long before the story could play out. But this Thor is still his, in a way, and Loki feels his heart lurch and ache all the same.
Thor falls to his knees when he reaches the summit and lays on Loki for the first time.
“In the name of Odin,” Thor whispers, tears falling freely from his face. “So the wizard was right.”
“Hello brother,” Loki says, unable to keep his own tears from forming. His hands shake and the branches quiver as they parse his frayed emotions. “Although, I am not quite your brother, as you know.”
Thor shakes his head.
“In any universe, across all timelines, you are always my brother, no matter what,” Thor tells him. “And I am proud to call you so, in any universe, in any time, now and forever. I could not imagine another more worthy than you to be the guardian of time, no longer the God of Mischief, but the God of Stories. Of all stories.”
Though Loki has heard this name many times in many universes, and even from many Thors, to hear it from this Thor, his Thor, at this exact moment at the end of time, affects Loki in a way he cannot describe.
Thor presses their foreheads together and sings him a lullaby their mother often sang to them as children. When he is done, they are both a mess, and Loki is loathe to bid his brother goodbye, even knowing he cannot stay.
Parting was always such sweet sorrow.
--------------------------------
Loki smiles when his star-crossed lover appears to him.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” they say, looking around and taking in the branches of the Tree of Time. Their gaze is appreciative, wondrous even, at all that Loki has done. At all that he continues to do.
“Here I am,” Loki replies, unable to keep the smile off his face. It is good to see them once more. “You certainly took your time coming here.”
“Hey, it wasn't easy!” they shoot back, affronted.
Loki shrugs. “O.B. figured it out fairly quickly,” he says.
“Of course he did,” they grumble. “And then he didn’t bother to tell me how.”
Loki shakes his head. “Each traveler must find their own way here without aid,” he explains. “It is a personal journey to seek the truth at the End of Time.”
His lover-not-quite-lover hums thoughtfully. They fall to silence for a while, but it isn’t awkward. Silence between them has never been awkward.
“Are you happy, Loki?” they finally ask.
Loki considers this for a moment before he answers.
“I am content,” he finally says. “My purpose is not easy, nor is it the life I would have imagined for myself, but I would make the same choice again and again.”
His not-lover nods, seeming to finally find the answer they have been seeking. Which means it is now their time to leave. It is bittersweet.
“I would have loved you,” they confess, meeting his eyes directly. “If things were different. In another timeline, another universe, perhaps.”
Loki thinks of all the universes where that scenario is a reality and smiles.
“You already do.”
#loki tv#loki fanfiction#character study#loki s2 spoilers#loki spoilers#spoilers for 2x06#lokius#sylki#I have kept loki's mystery lover vague at the end so read it however you will!#seiya writes
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“My love is my eyes, I am his ears, and you are our HEART.”
Yan!Puppeteer and Yan!Puppet x Gn!Alive porcelain doll♥︎
[mdni, or do, i don't care. omg lore post kind of?? the Multiverse Arche, Nova, and these two live in is large and im making a whole world out of it, so not all of this may make sense. also sorry it ended so abruptly i lost motivation at the end argh]
The Puppeteer came before everything in this wretched Universe, bored and lonely he created himself a lover, someone made from the stars above.
Then he created The Nine, and the Universe came into existence. It was small at first, larger with every new puppet made.
But there was only ONE true Puppet, his darling, his toy, his everything.
The first of The Nine to appear was Time, made from his sweethearts torso. Of course, being W̯ͤ̾ͣ͝Hͥ̽ͣ̃̔A̷͙ͭͫ̕T̨͈͗̌ͥ T̨͈͗̌ͥHͥ̽ͣ̃̔Ḛͭ̉̇͟Ỵ̛̖͋͢ A̷͙ͭͫ̕R͉̜̎͡͠Ḛͭ̉̇͟, they simply regenerated.
Due to this, Time’s stomach was made from an hourglass. Rumor has it, when it runs out of black sand, either Time will die or the Puppeteer and Puppet will, meaning Pollylon will die with them.
Her chest is made out of the sand that seeps from cracks in the hourglass, created by a being known as Arche, angry at her for killing his Firefly.
Then came Universe, made from the Puppeteer’s spine, made to be everything and nothing all at once.
The Universe doesn't have a physical body but neither do they not exist. The Universe is both everything and nothing, you and me.
Then Life and Death, Life created from the Puppeteer’s eyes and Death from the Puppet’s ears, making something so strong costed both their senses that they lost in the creation of them.
Life’s eyes are pure white, and constantly see every life born from human to animal to even a plant, now and in the past, even in the future. He is blind, and also all-seeing.
While Death constantly hears the screams, moans, and sobs of the dead, from now and in the past, future as well. She is deaf, but can also hear a pin drop.
Love came next, created from one side of each of the Puppeteer’s and Puppet’s hearts, but something corrupted Love’s existence, and another of The Nine was created as well; Heartbreak.
Love’s heart is constantly visible, constantly beating, the skin around their chest gone, it is said with every beat of Love’s heart, a couple falls in love.
Heartbreak doesn't have a heart, and is said to be constantly searching for one in the bodies of the couples they break up, hoping to find one to fix their own missing heart.
Then Sleep and Dream came along, Sleep made from the left hand of the Puppeteer and Dream from the right hand of the Puppet.
Sleep’s left hand is a baby blue, melting into their skin, constantly cool to the touch and able to make anyone fall asleep with a single touch.
Dream’s right hand is a deep purple, but it's ever changing. Dream is neither cruel nor benevolent, able to conjure up Nightmares bad enough to terrify Gods and Dreams happy enough to warm even Heartbreak’s missing heart.
The last and youngest of The Nine was Fate, rather then being created from a part of the Puppeteer or Puppet, the Puppeteer wove his existence like thread into clothing, and he was born with golden stitches.
Fate is clueless and naive, unknowing of the strings of Fate he holds in his hands, similar to the ones attached to his back, able to be pulled every which way by the Puppeteer.
For a long time, the Puppeteer and Puppet watch as their creations create more, more and more Gods are created by The Nine, more worlds, it was amusing.
The Puppeteer often busied himself learning about the new diseases the humans find, or about the durability and general stuff about humans. They were so interesting...
But very soon, living in the galaxy grew boring. Even if the Puppeteer had his Puppet, they already know everything about each other, have done everything together.
“Darlingggg...I'm growing bored..” Puppet whined, and Puppeteer sighed, pushing the violet hair out of his lover’s face.
“I know, pup. Don't worry, we'll think of something.” Puppeteer signed to his lover, kissing Puppet’s forehead.
They need something new. So, the two draw a character, adding attributes they found attractive. They wouldn't have emotions or a personality at first, but they'd grow their own soon enough.
It was a bit of trial and error, especially since the Puppet had liked the idea of the new person being made out of porcelain, like a doll. After all, he's a puppet, so why not have a doll too?
Eventually, YOU came to appear.
—
Your eyes flutter open, the world around you freezing cold, the air nipping at your already freezing cold skin.
You can feel heat radiating off something out side the room, but your mind, without any knowledge of what was going on, only knew to follow the heat.
Unsteady, like a doe on ice, you stand from the bed you were on, immediately grabbing onto a wall for support.
Your eyes scanned the room with precision, the walls were black, and it smelled strange, but even the candles lit in the room couldn't hide the smell of death and rot.
Steadying yourself, using the wall for support you walk out of the room, looking for that warmth— That you step right into.
“What—? Pup, is that you?” The voice is curious, and slightly hoarse. Maybe he doesn't speak often. You look up, only to find cloudy eyes staring into nothingness.
You open your mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a pitiful whine. That seems to clue the person in, who's eyes widen slightly.
“It's you! I thought you were another failure, I suppose not!” Their voice is cheery now, arms instantly wrapping around your body, as if they're trying to squeeze the magic out of you, yet they're also gentle.
Unknowing of what to do, you simply melt into them, glad for their warmth. As fast as the warmth came, cold followed after.
“Darling? Is-Is that them?” The new person, who seems freezing cold, if the air around them is anything, asks with a tremble in their voice, the warm person immediately nods, their head turned towards the colder one.
“It is.” The warm one signed, which it's weird you can understand, but that might be because of the magic they left inside you.
The warm person unravels themselves from you, and you whine at the loss making the corners of their lips tug up.
“Apologies, dolly. But we should introduce ourselves, shouldn't we, Pup?” The warm one speaks while also signing towards “Pup”, who nods, walking closer to the warmth, curling around them like a python.
“Mhm, I guess we should. I'm Puppet, though my darling and you can call me Pup.” Pup speaks, smiling at you.
“And I'm the Puppeteer, although some seem to call me A̷͙ͭͫ̕R͉̜̎͡͠L̸̖̽̌͂Ḛͭ̉̇͟Q̦̭̀̾͜U̠҉̷̙ͦI̍̅̀̎̊N̺̻̔̆ͅ for some reason...Either is fine for you and Pup to call me, however!” Puppeteer smiles, which only leaves you without a name.
But neither seem concerned, and instead guide you to the dining room, but the castle you're in...it seems almost...alive. Doors open on their own, books rearranging themselves, rags cleaning the castle.
You're quickly sat down, Pup on your left and Puppeteer on your right. There's all different types of food on the table, some more enticing then others.
“Dolly, see anything you like?” Pup asks, and you shrug. I mean, sure some of it looks good, but it's just food. Pup pouts, and grabs a fork, picking up some spaghetti and spoon feeding it to you.
They practically spoon feed you the entire time, talking and chatting with each other while you listen, before guiding you to their bedroom, where the two sleep together, while you watch curiously.
That morning, by the time they're awake you've been up all night, watching.
“Mm, Dolly, did you stay up all night?” Pup yawns, rubbing his eyes as he looks at you. You nod, and Puppeteer frowns.
“You shouldn't do that.” Puppeteer says, and you tilt your head like a curious puppy, and he points at your chest. “You're not human, of course, but look.”
Puppeteer walks over, taking off the shirt you had been given by Pup, and opens the plate on your chest.
You glance down curiously, and freeze. In the middle is a two red hearts, beating quietly, stitched together to create one, with strings from each of your limbs, so you can move.
“You may not die from lack of sleep, but you will grow lethargic. I'd prefer you happy and awake, alright, dolly?” Puppeteer looks up with a look in his eye that leaves no room for discussion, as if it wasn't a question. You nod, somewhat worried of what would happen if you disagreed.
Very quickly Puppeteer begins teaching you how to speak while Pup teaches you how to write, the two are amazing teachers and with how you were created, you easily learn everything.
Even though you're still without a personality, soon you'll make one your self, and realize something.
Created from two lovers hearts into a new being. You have no escape, after all, this is their domain, and there is no way to leave them.♥︎
#oc#oc x reader#x reader#yandere#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yandere x you#┆︴your host ٭ nico
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Funeral // Jercy microfic (platonic or romantic) // 545 words
I clung to Annabeth's hand like it was the only thing keeping me alive. And the more I thought about that, the more I thought it might be true.
I felt like I was drowning which should be impossible for a son of Poseidon. But I didn't care. I'd rather drown than be here.
Everything about this felt wrong and I hated it. I shouldn't be here. No one should be here. He shouldn't be dead. They should've let him die.
I should've been with Jason, training in the arena or I should've been helping him design a new temple in New Rome or anything other than this. Anything else but being at his funeral.
But that was exactly where I was.
I squeezed Annabeths hand, glancing over at her and automatically regretting it.
When she caught my eye, it wasn't her I saw. It was Jason.
They didn't look that similar but they had the same shade of bright blonde and that was all my brain needed to see him.
His beautiful bright blonde hair, his electric blue eyes, his sparkling smile that sent a shiver down my spine every time I saw it. Hell, I couldn't even hear his sweet laugh that made
Then Annabeth's face shone through and I couldn't stop the new avalanche of tears that plagued my eyes.
It wasn't that I had a problem with Annabeth. She was one of my best friends and I loved her.
But she wasn't Jason and that was all I wanted right now.
But he was dead. Gone forever.
But this wasn't supposed to happen. Jason was supposed to grow old with the rest of us. Our children were supposed to meet and be best friends like we were.
I knew this was stupid anyway. We were demigods, the fact that he made it to 18 was a miracle. The fact that we had all made it this old was a miracle.
But we had saved the world multiple times. Couldn't we be cut a break? Couldn't we live our lives without having to deal with gods and monsters again? Hadn't we done enough?
But apparently we hadn't because he had been killed and the gods couldn't care less. Well, Apollo might but he had no power anymore. And Jason's death was partially his fault.
I didn't want to blame him. If I was going to blame anyone I should blame the person who killed him and hell even Zeus himself.
But blaming people wouldn't bring him back. Nothing could bring him back.
"How're you doing Percy?" Annabeth whispered, tracing her thumb along mine. She must've noticed the new wave of tears.
I shook my head in response, not able to say anything. Ever since I learned of Jason's death I hadn't said a word. Oh I had tried yet the only noise I could make was the sounds of crying.
Annabeth nodded slightly, squeezing my hand again. I waited for those three words that everyone seemed attached to to come out of her mouth.
'It'll be okay'
I hated those words. No, it wasn't going to be okay. Jason was dead. My best friend was dead.
And there was nothing anyone could do about it.
How was anything supposed to be okay?
#Percy jackson#jason grace#jercy#Percy x jason#Jason x percy#rip Jason grace#pjo#hoo#toa#pjo hoo toa#Percy Jackson and the olympians#heroes of olympus#trials of apollo#microfic#microfanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#fanfiction writer#jercy fanfic#jercy fanfiction#jercy microfic#Percy Jackson fanfiction#Percy Jackson fanfic#Percy Jackson microfic
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