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luminnara · 1 month

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Protector | Feyd-Rautha x reader

ANON REQUEST: your marriage to Feyd-Rautha is an arranged one, and your only task is to provide an heir. When you finally become pregnant, your new husband suddenly grows obsessed with you—but does he care about you, or is he simply protective of his progeny?

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, and related talk; canon typical violence

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Your marriage was one born out of duty, not love. You couldn’t even call it a marriage of convenience; there was nothing convenient about leaving your homeworld and traveling across an entire galaxy to marry someone you had never even met before. Yes, the Houses had agreed beforehand that you were to marry Feyd-Rautha, the Na-Baron of House Harkonnen, and immediately after the deal had been struck you had seen his face and read his writing, but you hadn’t met him until your wedding day.

You had chastised yourself for thinking it could be like the fairytales of Ancient Earth. You, a princess, your betrothed a handsome prince…in the stories of your childhood, he would have whisked you away, off to a great, shining palace full of magical wonders, and you would have lived happily ever after. Instead, your prince had proved to be disinterested in you, busying himself with his arena and his concubines, ignoring you most of the day. The Harkonnen fortress did not shine, nor did it hold any great wonders, and Giedi Prime felt far from magical, with its harsh black sun and polluted landscape.

After your vows, you had naively thought your wedding night would be full of romance. Perhaps you had been holding onto hope as a means to protect yourself, clinging to optimism to distract yourself from your harsh, sad reality. You had been all too eager to shed your dress and veil in Feyd-Rautha’s living quarters, though had not expected them to be ruined by his blade, and you had not expected him to greedily conquer you as if it were yet another battle in the arena. He had slept next to you that night, but had made it painfully obvious that he had no interest in holding you or even touching you, keeping far to his side of the bed while you remained far to yours. In the morning, you had awoken alone, and had realized that it was the beginning of a long and lonely road on your new planet.

Everyone expected an heir. That was the entire point of this marriage, a legitimate heir for the Harkonnen line. Anyone else could have done it—you were of fine breeding, yes, but any of the other Houses could have offered up a daughter to suffer at Feyd-Rautha’s side. Why it had to be you surely came down to the only things powerful men seemed to care about—money and spice. An allegiance with House Harkonnen protected your family, and your small share of spice harvesters on Arrakis added yet another drop into their vast bucket and one less smuggling operation to worry about. Your parents were happy. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was happy.

And you were miserable.

Two months after your wedding, your monthly cycle continued as normal, and you were forced to shamefully inform the na-Baron. After an annoyed sound and a grimace, he bent you over the nearest table and took you for a second time, leaving you to clean yourself up and cry at your husband’s callousness. You didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to care. You supposed he already had everything he could possibly want; wealth, concubines, a throne to inherit…you brought nothing of real value to him, save for the ability to produce an heir.

Time passed, and it became clear that Feyd-Rautha would have to touch you more than once a month if he was to have any hope of fathering a child. You cursed yourself for your apparent inability to conceive—fertility had been one of your parents’ selling points when negotiating with the Baron, and now, you couldn’t even do the one thing that was expected of you. It brought you to tears every night, the stress of being reduced to this and yet still being unable to perform your task. It was maddening, though you knew you were hardly the first woman to find yourself in such a situation. You did worry, however, that you may have been the weakest.

One evening, as Feyd performed his husbandly duties, he noticed a tear slipping down your cheek and paused. You felt a rough hand cup the side of your face and opened your eyes to find your husband staring at you with dark eyes, his head tilted to suggest he was curious.

“Tears?” He asked in his raspy voice that was still so alien to you.

“My apologies, na-Baron,” you looked away from him.

“You are crying.”

You stifled an annoyed sigh. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do not worry yourself with me, husband.” You said.

“Tell me.”

This was perhaps the longest conversation you had had since marrying him, and part of you didn’t want it to end. You looked at him once more, finding him still watching you with that unwavering, predatory gaze, and another tear rolled down your cheek and onto his hand.

“I am sorry I have not given you a child.” You whispered.

“Then let me put one into you.”

His tone sent a chill down your spine, frightening and exciting you all at once. That night, Feyd-Rautha did not let you sleep, shocking you with his determination. It was simply because the sooner you conceived, the sooner he could return to his own concerns, you reasoned.

Sure enough, your period did not arrive when expected, nor did the next. A medical test confirmed what you already knew—you were pregnant, with Feyd-Rautha’s child. A Harkonnen child, who would grow up to be just as ruthless and savage as its father, you thought.

Upon receiving the positive result, you immediately set off to tell the na-Baron. He should not be made to wait; you wanted him to know that the entire point of your union was finally achieved, and that you could both go back to ignoring each other as usual. As you walked, you had the worrying thought that he may not even keep you alive after the delivery.

“Na-Baron,” you addressed him upon finding him in his armory.

He looked up from the blade he was sharpening. “Wife.”

“I bring news,” you said, folding your hands in front of yourself.

“Then tell me, before I grow bored of waiting.” He returned to the hunting knife, looking away from you once more.

“I am with child.”

You watched as Feyd-Rautha paused, tilting his head to look at you. “My child?”

“Yes. Who else could it possibly belong to?” You asked, exasperated. “The physicians confirmed it just now. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

He nodded slowly, looking back at the knife in his hand as he thought. “I see.”

Whatever hopes you had once had for him to suddenly flip his entire personality at the news were quickly dashed by his lack of emotion. You left him there, a hand over your mouth as you tried not to cry, returning to your bed to be alone once more.

-0-

In those earlier days of pregnancy, you were often ill, sprinting from bed to the wash basin nearly every day to be sick. Usually, you were alone; Feyd-Rautha rose early, spending his mornings training and sometimes killing his instructors. Whenever that happened, he would come back, wearing blood and a grin on his face as if he had just won some great contest.

Today, however, he was enjoying a rare occasion of sleeping in. He had begun spending his nights in the center of the bed, crowding you as you attempted to stay away from him. One morning you had even woken up to find his arm throne over you, his body closer than ever. Now, he was sleeping, and you would have been content to let him remain there were you not busy launching yourself over him as you ran to the adjoining wash room.

You missed the way your husband sat up, eyes wide and frenzied as he pulled a dagger from beneath the pillows. When he found the room to be empty and free of danger, he grew confused…until he heard your retching in the next room, and slipped out of bed.

“Wife?” He asked from the doorway.

“What?” You groaned, leaning your cheek on the cool basin.

“…are you alright?”

You sighed. “No, na-Baron, I am not. I mean…I am, I just…”

“You are sick,” he pointed out.

It took every bit of willpower you possessed to swallow down the part of you that desperately wanted to throttle him. “Yes. I am. It’s the pregnancy, the pills from the doctors haven’t been working—“

“This has happened before?” He interrupted.

“Most days, yes,” you felt another wave of nausea coming over you and hunched your shoulders, preparing for the worst.

You never expected to feel a cool hand brushing your hair away from your forehead, nor the feeling of your husband’s chest against your back as he held you.

“Harkonnen women don’t have this problem,” he commented as he held your hair.

It was the least helpful statement he possibly could have made as you vomited once more, and yet it was also quite possibly the best.

“If Harkonnen women have no hair, then what do you pull?” You asked wryly, too ill and too exhausted to hold yourself back.

Feyd-Rautha stared you, unblinking, before a smirk found its way onto his lips. “If you are feeling brave, perhaps I will show you one day.”

You let out a laugh as the nausea ebbed, leaning back against him. “Perhaps one day I will finally stop seeing my lunch so many times, and then you can regale me.”

-0-

Your sickness faded as your pregnancy progressed, thankfully, but Feyd-Rautha’s company did not. By the time you were beginning to truly show, he was refusing to leave you alone, demanding your presence wherever he went. As a result, you sat in on many a sparring session, and he made up his mind to abandon the arena until after the baby was born. His sudden change in attitude was shocking; he had never paid so much attention to anything before, and now, his hands were constantly on you.

“I must keep you safe,” he had said when you first asked about it, and had acted as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

You assumed he was protective due to the baby, the precious new heir to the Harkonnen throne. As its vessel, you were afforded some luxuries, but you fully expected that to change after the birth. For now, though, you were content to receive any and all attention your husband saw fit to pay you.

“That went well,” you said one day after the doctor examined you.

“He should not have touched you like that.” Feyd-Rautha growled.

“What do you mean? He’s a doctor,” you laughed, somewhat nervously.

“I did not like it.” His voice was tense.

“I could tell.” You grumbled, dropping your happy façade. He had nearly chased the doctor out of the room, hunting knife in hand. “Examinations are unavoidable, I’m afraid.”

“No more.”

“But—“

“No more strangers touching you.”

"Doctors help," you protested. "Don't you want your child to be healthy?"

At that, Feyd paused in thought. "...You may have a Harkonnen midwife."

"Because a Harkonnen doctor is too much?" You asked dryly.

He glared at you briefly before looking away towards the door. "Come."

You audibly groaned, one hand on your lower back. "Na-Baron, I am tired. I wish to retire to bed."

He looked back at you, and you caught an expression of distress on his face. "I need to train."

"You train every day."

"Yes." he said it as if it were obvious, but something in his tone suggested more; he made it sound urgent, as if it were something he had to do daily, and missing a single session would be disastrous. "Come."

You heaved a sigh and followed him.

-0-

In the months that followed, your unborn child grew, as did your body. You found yourself becoming large and bloated, your gait slowing as your flexibility waned. New maternity gowns were brought to you, an interesting mix of styles--the flowing, heavy garments of your homeworld meeting the simple, stark aesthetics of Giedi Prime. You found them strange, but at that point, you really didn't care; you would have walked around naked if no one would have stopped you. You spent your days feeling uncomfortable and awkward, with swollen feet and a sore lumbar region. Harkonnen servants brought whatever you needed, and your husband ensured--no, demanded--that all of your food be tasted by someone else while you watched so that there could be no chance of poison passing between your lips.

You wondered if this was simply some aspect of Harkonnen culture that the other Houses weren't aware of or never cared to talk about. Perhaps on a planet as harsh and toxic as Giedi Prime, infertility and infant mortality were more commonplace than the rest of the known universe. Perhaps this possessiveness was common among Harkonnen men, if conception was more difficult for their people.

Whether your theory was correct or not, Feyd-Rautha had certainly become even more attached to you. Not a morning went by when he wasn’t there next to you in bed, and as of late, he had begun waking you up by reminding you exactly how you had ended up like this in the first place. Before your pregnancy, he had acted as though bedding you were a boorish duty he had no choice but to perform; now that you were heavy with child, however, he was more than interested in you physically, constantly touching you with those rough, murderous hands.

You enjoyed the attention, and you enjoyed the way he squeezed and massaged you with surprising gentleness. He didn’t want to break you, you supposed, not right now; after the child arrived, perhaps, but not now. That was a grim thought, and one you had often—what was to come of your after the birth? Would Feyd-Rautha want more children, in case this one died some horrible, brutal, Harkonnen death? Or would you be disposed of, no longer needed after his legacy was secured?

You tried not to dwell on it.

One morning, you roused on your own, without Feyd’s interference. Wondering if he was even still there, you reached out to the side, feeling for him—and you nearly jumped when you felt bare flesh beneath your hand. When you rolled onto your back with considerable effort and turned your head to the side, you saw that your husband was there, still sleeping, and that what you had felt was his exposed chest.

You took the moment to look at him, really look at him. He seemed so peaceful like this, when he wasn’t fighting and killing. You had seen him take lives so quickly that his victims hadn’t even known they had died, and you had wondered how someone could be so dismissive of those around them. The first time you had watched your husband slit a throat, you had nearly vomited, and he had found your revulsion amusing; the most recent, however, you had simply sighed and looked away. You were desensitized, it seemed, just like he was, and now, you slept just as easily after watching him commit horrendous acts of violence as he did now.

Feyd-Rautha was handsome as far as Harkonnens went. His skin was smooth like marble, free of the scars and bruises one might expect to see on a warrior. His face, usually so harsh during the waking hours, was relaxed now, and you realized he was beautiful. You couldn’t keep yourself from brushing your fingers over his lips and feeling how surprisingly soft they were, though in a way, this felt wrong. Feyd-Rautha didn’t strike you as the kind of person who would allow this sort of touch, but when would you have this opportunity again? He always rose first in the morning and slept last at night. You never caught him with his guard down, and you kept your hands to yourself during the day. This was the only time you could marvel at him like this.

As your fingers ghosted across his cheek, he twitched, and you froze. Then, to your horror, an eye cracked open, and you knew that he had been awake all along.

When you moved to pull away, he caught your wrist, then covered your hand in his. He held your gaze for several long, strange moments, and you realized that he hadn’t simply been awake—he had been allowing you to touch his face, to explore him in a way you had never been brave enough to before. It felt like a gift, in a way. In his way.

“I apologize,” you breathed, unable to look away from him.

“Why?” He asked, voice deep and rough with sleep.

“I should not have touched you without permission.”

“I am your husband,” he said. “And you are carrying my child. You do not need permission to touch me.”

Somehow, you knew his words carried a deeper meaning. You knew you were one of, if not the only, one on all of Giedi Prime whom he had said those words to. And for the first time since marrying him, you felt that Feyd-Rautha was truly your husband.

-0-

He was with you when the labor began.

You had been lounging in your shared chambers, enduring the final week of your pregnancy. It felt bittersweet, in a way; you had no way of knowing then if you would ever be experiencing this again, and a part of you desperately wanted to hold onto it while the rest was fed up with feeling massive and uncomfortable every day.

Feyd-Rautha had been agitated all morning. It was as if he had known something was about to happen, and he had spent his time barely containing himself as he paced and sharpened knives, attempting to keep to himself and leave you alone and doing a piss poor job of it. You had been ready to chase him out of the room—or at least attempt to—when you felt your waters go and the panic set in.

That had been three hours ago.

Now, you were in your bed, and a shockingly-diligent Harkonnen na-Baron had yet to leave your side. He had briefly stepped into the corridor to bellow at the nearest passerby and your midwife had arrived very quickly as a result, but after that, he had sat down next to you and refused to go anywhere else.

“Is it agony?” He asked as you stood.

You shot him a glare. “I would not wish this sensation on even you.”

He was taken aback by your tone, impressed, even, by the venom in it.

“A short walk about the room may help,” the midwife suggested. “I will assist—“

“No.” Feyd-Rautha was up and at your side in an instant, taking your elbow. “I will.”

You didn’t care who did what, you just wanted it to be over and done with. The labor was progressing quickly, the midwife assured after another check once you were back in bed, and soon, you were wailing and grunting, your face was sweaty, and the na-Baron was staring in awe. You were focused on the task set before you, one hand on Feyd’s arm as you pushed with all your might, and so you could not see the way your husband was looking at you.

When your son was born and crying at the top of his tiny lungs, Feyd-Rautha cut the umbilical cord with a hunting knife and then he stared. It seemed that the entire time, he was incapable of looking away, his eyes glued to either you or the new Harkonnen heir. You supposed he had been too enthralled to order the midwife out of the room, and the woman was smart enough not to push her luck—she did the necessary examinations as quickly as she could, then handed the baby off to you, busying herself with cleaning what looked like a murder scene and gathering the afterbirth when it came. Then, satisfied with her work and the health of the child, she left, and you were alone with your husband and son.

You cradled the infant, tucking him against your breast and pulling the edge of your robe over him in an attempt to keep him warm. He was born pale, like his father, but with a soft layer of hair that made you wonder how much he might grow to look like you. The midwife had said it before she slipped out, and you had to agree—he was beautiful, and you smiled down at him.

A thud startled you and you turned to see that Feyd-Rautha had fallen to his knees at your bedside, looking at you with a reverence you had never seen in anyone before.

“Feyd?” You asked.

He looked between you and your son, and you saw then that something had changed within him over those many months. Gone was the dismissive, uncaring husband you had wed; this Feyd-Rautha had grown to become a protector, one who would fight until his muscles tore from his bones, who would bleed himself dry for you.

“You are stronger than I knew,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek much the way you had with him all those nights ago.

You felt a lump in your throat. “Come here. Join us.”

He did.

Feyd-Rautha sat with you there, in your bed, the very bed your first child was born in. He watched as your son woke from his peaceful, short nap, and he was privy to the private, intimate moment of his first feeding. He held the baby, staring at him in wonder and what may have been a touch of fear, supporting the both of you as he helped you to the bathing room when you were well enough to stand.

“A son,” he said, watching the baby sleep that night.

“Yes.” You mumbled, exhausted and nearly asleep as well. “Are you pleased, husband?”

“I would have been just as pleased with a daughter.”

That surprised you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him propped up on an elbow, watching your son as he slept in his simple Harkonnen manger. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said, never once taking his eyes off the child. “I can teach a daughter to fight just as well.” Finally, he looked down at you. “Are you well?”

“As well as can be expected.” You sighed.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes, I am,” you answered him, sleep already dragging you down.

You barely felt his lips as he pressed a kiss to your temple, and you barely heard his voice as he said,

“I am as well.”

-0-

You had expected Feyd-Rautha to grow cold in the weeks following your son’s birth, but he never had. He was attentive, caring for you in a way that suggested he felt some primal urge to drag back great beasts for dinner every night but modern living prohibited that.

Now, you watched as he stood before one of the massive windows within the Harkonnen palace. It was evening on Giedi Prime, but the black sun casted no shadows over the landscape. Feyd-Rautha held your son, whispering to him, and as you watched, you wished the moment could stretch on forever.

“Husband,” you said, approaching him.

“Wife,” he greeted you, turning.

“On your evening walk together, I see.”

He chuckled. “I am showing him everything he will one day rule over.”

“I am surprised you haven’t taken him into battle with you yet,” you said sarcastically.

“I will strap him to my chest so that he might taste the blood of House Atreides,” he said with a grin.

“The youngest Harkonnen warrior the world has ever seen.” You smiled, leaning in to check on what appeared to be a perfectly happy, albeit possibile bloodthirsty, baby.

“What are you doing walking alone?” Feyd-Rautha asked.

“Looking for you.”

“And now that you have found me, what do you intend to do?”

You leaned into your husband, resting your head on his shoulder. “Drop the baby off with the wet nurse, seduce you, take you to bed and then have my way with you.”

“You have my attention.”

“I thought you might be interested in trying for a girl this time…”

In a blink, he had spun you around and was dragging you down the corridor, and once the baby was safely tucked in with a nursemaid watching over him, you did indeed have your way with your husband. And again. And again. And you realized, as you retired to bed that night, that you were truly glad to have been arranged to marry Feyd-Rautha, heir to the Harkonnen throne and father of your children.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #TW pregnancy #TW labor and delivery #dune x reader

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crowclubkaz · 3 months

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💚👁️🕸️ In honour of The Magnus Protocol releasing today, here are some book recommendations based on The Magnus Archives Fears!! 🕸️👁️💚

Detailed list of books below the cut!

For more book recommendations, especially queer horror, check out my Bookstagram @hauntedstacks

The Buried ⚰️ - Into the Sublime by Kate A. Boorman - Stuck by Ben Young - The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling - The Deep by Nick Cutter

The Corruption 🦠 - What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher - Green Fuse Burning by Tiffany Morris - The Honeys by Ryan La Sala - She Is A Haunting by Trang Thanh Tran

The Dark 🌑 - Dead Silence by S.A. Barnes - Nightfall by Jake Halpern & Peter Kujawinski - No Power by Todd Kirby - The 5th Wave by Rick Yancey

The Desolation 🔥 - Firestarter by Stephen King - Burner by Robert Ford - Those Who Wish Me Dead by Michael Koryta - Burn the House Down by Kenna Jenkins

The End 💀 - Funeral Girl by Emma K. Ohland - Pet Sematary by Stephen King - Under the Whispering Door by TJ Klune - This Thing Between Us by Gus Moreno

The Extinction 🦴 - Lost Signals by Max Booth III - Bride of the Tornado by James Kennedy - No Safety in Numbers by Dayna Lorentz - The Rules of the Road by C.B. Jones

The Eye 👁️ - Video Palace by Maynard Wills - Episode Thirteen by Craig DiLouie - A History of Fear by Luke Dumas - The Watchers by A.M. Shine

The Flesh 🦷 - You’ve Lost A Lot of Blood by Eric LaRocca - Carnivore by Justin Boote - A Certain Hunger by Chelsea G. Summers - Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica

The Hunt 🏹 - Hunt by Alexandra Nisneru - The Woods Are Always Watching by Stephanie Perkins - Survive the Night by Danielle Vega - The Hunger by Alma Katsu

The Lonely ☁️ - Red River Seven by A.J. Ryan - Solitude by Michael Penning - Dark Matter by Michelle Paver - We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

The Slaughter 🥩 - Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin - Your Shadow Half Remains by Sunny Moraine - American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis - The Summer I Died by Ryan C. Thomas

The Spiral 🌀 - That Darkened Doorstep by Catherine Jordan - Mind the Mirrors by Amanda Leanne - Grey Noise by Marcus Hawke - Last to Leave the Room by Caitlin Starling

The Stranger🕴️ - It Looks Like Us by Alison Ames - My Best Friend’s Exorcism by Grady Hendrix - The Deep by Alma Katsu - The Outside by Stephen King

The Vast 🪂 - From Below by Darcy Coates - Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant - Floating Staircase by Ronald Mafi - Nightmare Sky by Red Lagoe

The Web 🕸️ - The Taking of Jake Livingston - The Fervor by Alma Katsu - The Book of Accidents by Chuck Wendig - Come Closer by Sarah Gran

If You Like The Magnus Archives 💚 - Thirteen Stories by Jonathan Sims - Family Business by Jonathan Sims - Gas Station by Jack Townsend - Horrorstör by Grady Hendrix

#the magnus archives #the magnus protocol #tma #tmp #Jonathan sims #rusty quill #martin blackwood #jonmartin #booklr #bookstagram #books #horror books #queer books #horror book recs #book recs #mine

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singularattitudeofasafetypin · 1 year

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Safe With Me

Masterlist

Summary: Reader gets anxious when Eddie drives fast but is afraid to tell him in case he thinks she's boring.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: insecurity, descriptions of anxiety, reference to a parent driving dangerously when mad

Please don't steal my work

Eddie always drives like a maniac.

His rickety old van was infamous around town, careening down quiet roads and scaring the life out of their residents. Hopper had issued more tickets than he could count but nothing seemed to deter him. Maybe it was the rush it gave him? The thrill of breaking the rules or maybe he was just reckless?

Whatever it was, it just wasn’t the same for you.

Driving always made you anxious. You could count on one hand the number of times you’d driven since getting your licence. Every time you tried your mind was flooded with all the things that could go horribly wrong. Panic set in your chest. Thoughts rushing so loud you couldn’t focus on the road in front of you. You didn’t even own your own car.

But it ran deeper than that.

When you were younger, you could always tell if your dad was mad by the way he drove. Always pushing the speed limit after an argument, getting just a little too close to the car in front and yelling out the window when someone got in his way. Your heart would race, breath hitch when he broke sharply, and your foot tap on an imaginary break when he didn’t slow ‘til the last minute. Thankfully, nothing bad had ever happened to you, but it frightened you all the same.

When you and Eddie got together a few months back, the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. You’d had a crush on him forever! All it took was a push from Nancy and a shove from Dustin to find out he felt the same way.

Eddie was wonderful! The perfect boyfriend really. You couldn’t be happier.

But then he’d offered to drive you home.

You’d happily climbed into the passenger seat, smiling as he shut the door behind you. He kissed your cheek, flicked on the radio, and turned the key in the ignition.

It was all you could do not to gasp when he pulled out of the parking lot.

From the first lurch, your heart began fluttering like a bird straining against your ribs, desperate to be free of its cage. Eddie kept talking like nothing was wrong. You could barely make out his words over the noise of the radio and the rushing panic in your ears. You tried to smile and nod at what you hoped were appropriate times but adrenaline was coursing through your body, breath coming in sharp, shallow gulps.

He skidded to a halt outside your house and immediately hopped out to get the door for you.

‘Your palace, my lady!’ he grinned, helping you down by the hand with his usual theatrical flair. You smiled weakly.

‘Thanks Eddie.’

He kissed you goodbye and you did your best to smile and wave as he went tearing down the street and around the corner before letting a shaky breath out. Residual nausea beginning to dissipate as you stepped inside.

In hindsight, maybe you should have just talked to him. Told him how you felt, been honest. You know, the sort of thing you’re supposed to do in relationships but it was all still so new! You rehearsed the conversation in your mind a thousand times but it just sounded pathetic. Like you were making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe you were? ‘Just leave it!’ you thought, ‘He’ll think you’re so boring!’

So instead, you made excuses.

‘Sorry Eds, I can’t. My mum’s picking me up today!’

‘I want to bike home today. It’s so sunny!’

‘I’m going to Nancy’s, she said she’d take me.’

It was all going so well until the universe turned against you. Or rather, the weather did.

You stood under the bike shelter, staring up at the charcoal sky as fat raindrops fell hard against the roof. They spattered over the school parking lot, sloshing in puddles and trickling along the gutters while a bitter wind waxed and waned. Icy drips hit your knuckles, white as they gripped your bike’s handlebars. You sighed. Ten minutes since school ended and the sky had only gotten darker. The rain wasn’t stopping any time soon.

Tugging the yellow hood of your raincoat over your head, you ventured out into the deluge. You were busy dreading every second of the freezing ride home when your attention was caught by a familiar voice hollering your name. You couldn’t help but smile when you turned. Eddie was sprinting toward you, his own dark raincoat held over his head rather than around his shoulders while his scuffed-up trainers splashed along the ground.

‘No way am I letting you bike home in this!’ he scolded good-naturedly when he reached you, ‘Let me give you a ride home!’

Your smile faltered.

‘It’s okay Eddie…’ you searched frantically for a reason to refuse him, ‘I was just gonna call my mum!’

Sure, you were! Halfway across the parking lot, clearly heading away from school. The lie was so obvious, Eddie nearly laughed. ‘Don’t you remember? You said she was at work today!’

‘Oh yeah,’ Idiot! You cursed yourself, ‘Nancy then! We’ve actually been meaning to meet up and study.’

Eddie frowned a little, ‘She’s got that thing after school, doesn’t she? I saw her unlocking the darkroom on the way out.’

Strike two!

‘Yeah, I uh…’ your confidence crumbled, ‘I can just wait for her or something…’ The ruse was becoming thinner by the second. Eddie folded his arms.

‘What’s this actually about?’ he asked, ‘Why won’t you just let me take you home?’ His words weren’t angry or accusing, just confused, but a flicker of panic began to rise in your chest. ‘You haven’t let me drive you anywhere for weeks,’ he went on, ‘Have I done something to upset you?’

‘No!’

‘Then what is it?’ his dark brown eyes filled with worry as thunder rolled in the distance. Eddie’s arms ached from holding his coat, his fingers bitterly cold. The rain had seeped into his shoes and through his socks but he didn’t care. All that mattered was figuring out what he’d done wrong!

It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t remember anything he’d said or done that could make you pull away. You were just as content and affectionate most of the time but at the end of the school day, you couldn’t seem to lose him fast enough.

You wouldn’t look him in the eye now, your hands gripping your bike so tight he was afraid you might hurt yourself. How had he managed to screw up the best thing that had happened to him so soon?

‘Please?’ he was begging, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his fear as you bit your lip nervously, ‘Just tell me!’

‘I don’t like it when you drive fast!’

You just sort of blurted it out. No ceremony, no elegance. The words fell clumsily from your mouth, tugged almost involuntarily. Eddie didn’t say anything.

Now the words wouldn’t stop, tumbling out too fast, trying to justify. ‘I know, it’s stupid! Childish, I know!’ Despite the cold, you felt your cheeks turn warm. ‘But it just makes me really anxious and I-!’

‘Is that all?’

You stopped abruptly, looking up as an elated smile began to pull at the corner of his mouth. This wasn’t what you’d expected. His eyes held a mixture of gratitude, guilt, and hope.

‘Yeah?’ your voice came out uncertain but the smile only spread wider.

It was as though a weight had been lifted. Of course, Eddie felt awful that he’d scared you, even more so that he hadn’t even noticed. But this, this was something he could fix! He laughed a little, almost giddy with relief. ‘So then, I just won’t drive fast baby!’

You blinked in surprise, rendered speechless. Eddie shrugged his coat on at lightning speed, his hair already sodden by the time he was easing your bike from your grip. ‘Really?’ You hadn’t expected it to be that simple. He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head as though it was obvious.

‘Really! Now come on, you’re getting soaked!’ and without waiting for an answer, he turned and started wheeling your bike across the parking lot. You hurried after him, puddles splashing under your feet and wetting your socks.

‘You mean it?’ you asked when you reached the van. Eddie was pulling open the doors and stowing your bike safely in the back. He just nodded, opening the passenger side door next and helping you in.

He climbed in the other side, wriggling his coat off and tossing it behind him before turning the key in the ignition. You fiddled anxiously with your fingers. ‘You don’t think I’m being annoying?’ insecurity gnawed away at your stomach, ‘Or boring? Or silly? Or-? ‘

‘Sweetheart,’ Eddie interrupted, taking your hand and pressing a reassuring kiss to your fingertips. He looked up at you with those kind, warm eyes and melted your concern with his soft, tender voice, ‘I want you to feel safe with me.’

You sighed out. There was no deception, no hidden irritation or passive aggression. Eddie really meant it. He wanted you to be happy. Your peace was his priority.

‘Okay?’ he asked, still watching your face for confirmation.

You smiled shyly and nodded, ‘Okay.’

Eddie grinned back, pressing another kiss to your hand before dropping it and returning his own to the steering wheel.

True to his word, the ride home was as gentle as you could have wished for. You doubted Eddie had even driven this responsibly on his test… if he’d ever taken one. After five or ten minutes, you found the usual anxious knot that twisted in your chest had unwound. The tension in your muscles evaporated and soon you were laughing and joking with Eddie and singing along to the radio.

Before you knew it, he was pulling up outside your house. Funny, you thought, he’d been so cautious and yet the journey seemed to take half the time. You kissed his cheek and hopped down from the van.

The rain had stopped. Tarmac still dark and damp and small puddles were left here and there but blue sky and sunshine were breaking through the clouds, warming the sidewalk and glittering gold in the dew drops.

‘Can I pick you up tomorrow?’ Eddie asked, opening up the back to lift your bike out. He was tentative, worried he was pushing too far but you smiled and nodded.

‘Yes, thanks Eddie!’

You took the bike from him and turned to wheel it toward the porch when an indignant ‘Hey!’ sounded behind you. Eddie clutched at his heart, collapsing onto the side of the van gasping dramatically, ‘No goodbye kiss? Oh, cruel temptress! Is there no compassion? No mercy?’

With peals of laughter, you ran back to oblige him. He squeezed his arms around you, smiling so hard it was hardly a real kiss. This time, there was no barrier between you. No shadow, no secrets. Only the sweetness that honesty in love brings.

You walked your bike back down the garden path, waving to Eddie as the van pulled away. You watched him draw further and further down the street until he disappeared around the corner.

You smiled and rummaged for your keys. The weight on your shoulders had dissolved to nothing and somehow, you were even lighter than before.

Eddie Munson always drove like a maniac.

Until he didn’t.

Until you.

***

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daechwitatamic · 2 months

Text

Of Ruin: Chapter 12 || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

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

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

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

Section Warnings: language, tense situations with dangerous vampires, violence: vampire biting and feeding!!, lots of blood!!!, kissing wc: 4.8k

You spend the ride back to the palace in silence. You can’t even watch the beautiful landscape roll by, because Taehyung keeps the curtains closed as a precaution.

At the palace, he walks you back to your rooms. He doesn’t kiss you goodbye; you aren’t sure if you expected him to or not. Instead he takes your hand, glances up the hall where a team of guards wait for him, and gives it two quick squeezes before striding away, his footfalls echoing in the stone corridor.

You wait anxiously in the main room until the door opens, Namjoon looking just as relieved to see you as you are to see him.

You wonder if Jimin and the guard who took the main road made it back okay.

You don’t tell Namjoon about this kiss, nor about Taehyung’s comments about wanting you to stay.

You do fill him in on the meeting with the Scores, and Taehyung’s tentative plan for his reign.

“That’s ambitious,” Namjoon admits, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “He’ll have his work cut out for him.”

“He’s determined,” you say, somewhat absently. “I think the Scores might be on board. They’re not immediately objecting, anyway.”

“Would you stay?” Namjoon asks, dark eyes on yours inquisitively. “As, like, a representative for above?”

You shrug, averting your gaze, lest he spy your secrets in your eyes. “If he wanted me,” you say. “Of course, I’d try to help.”

Namjoon hums in response, meaning he doesn’t want to say what he really thinks.

You can’t find it in you to care.

About half the Scores return to court. No more attacks come. Satuel tells you, when you inquire, that that coach had been stopped by riders on the main road, but when they found only Jimin, they made no trouble.

You fall back into your routine. You spend your days reading through the notes Namjoon took at the archives. You spend your nights practicing magic, branching out from defensive spells and beginning to dabble with practical magic, and the odd offensive move.

Over the next week you break your lamp three more times while practicing, and you try to counter Taehyung’s curse - unsuccessfully - just as many.

The first two fizzle out and go nowhere, unceremonious and anticlimactic. The third one goes wrong so immediately that Namjoon physically yanks you away from Taehyung to break the connection, black smoke rising from each of your palms as you break away.

Taehyung heals your burns, the first time he’s touched you since you said goodbye after kissing in the carriage.

You feel stalled out; you feel your wheels spinning.

“Taehyung,” you say heavily, one of the evenings he comes to check your nonexistent progress. “We’re still missing something. Something we thought we had worked out isn’t right. I’m telling you. Something’s messed up.”

“What do you need?” he asks, looking back at you seriously. “More time at the archives? I could take you back -”

“I need to see the curse at work,” you say determinedly. It’s been over a month since you’d last had this argument, since the prince had put his foot down definitively. “I’ve been saying it since the beginning, and it’s still true. I have to.”

“We discussed this already,” he says tightly. “I won’t allow it.”

“Maiesti,” you say desperately. “We’ve run out of other choices. No book will tell me what I need - the curse will. If I can’t crack this, everything else you’re working on will never happen. You can’t do anything you’ve planned until this is solved.”

He stares at you, and it’s plain on his face how much he hates that you’re right.

“I can keep myself safe,” you say. Beside you, Namjoon murmurs your name, apprehensive. “You’ve seen me do it. I’m better now than I was then, I’ve practiced and practiced - I can do it, I can keep you back.”

The prince looks like he wants to vomit. “I can’t,” he croaks. “I can’t allow it.”

“We have to -”

“What if the worst happens?” he snaps, breaking. “What if I kill you? Seriously - that is a serious question! Think about that. I could kill you.”

“I’ll send you through a wall,” you say, half-joking. But you both know you can.

He shakes his head. “It’s too risky.”

“The bigger risk is never breaking the curse,” you say. “Think how much is at stake, now. You can only hold off the Scores for so long before they move back to the offensive. War is on the line, Taehyung, is that what you want for your people? Is my life worth more to you than the good of Infracticus? It shouldn’t be.”

He swears in his people’s ancient language, turning away from you, rubbing his face roughly, as he often does when overwhelmed.

Namjoon takes this opportunity to say your name again, quietly.

“I know what decision I’m making,” you say stonily, to both of them. “I know the risks, I know the dangers. We have to. We’ve come to a point where this is the only solution.”

“Fine,” Taehyung snaps, finally, turning back to you, eyes narrowed and mouth tight. “Fine. Is tonight too soon?”

You blanch. “Tonight?”

He looks at you, pleading. “Please. I can’t go through a whole day knowing it’s coming. The sooner we do this, the less time I’ll spend sick with worry. So - can you? Will you?”

“Yeah,” you say shakily. “Yes. Yes, we can do it tonight.”

“Fine,” he says, and when his voice is cold this time, you know it’s because he’s scared. “Satuel will bring you before midnight.”

He leaves without goodbye, as he used to do.

Namjoon says your name, more insistent this time.

“I know,” you tell him. “Believe me. You trust me, right?”

“I think so,” he says, which makes you laugh.

“It’s going to be fine,” you tell him.

—

The room Prince Taehyung spends his nights in is nicer than you’d envisioned, though not as nice as his actual wing of the palace.

Prince Taehyung sits at a wooden table, legs crossed so that one ankle rests on his knee. He eyes you coldly when the guards let you in the room.

Once, you would have seen his coldness and felt small. You know better now.

“It’s going to be okay,” you tell him, as gently as you can.

He swallows, looks at the floor. Then he rises, walking towards you. He stops before you, raises his gaze to meet yours. His eyes, irises white and human, dance with something too complicated to name.

“How can you be willing to do this?” he asks, something broken in his voice. “How, when you know the risks?”

Something in you breaks too, a dam that has been holding back every foolish, dead-end, illogical feeling you’ve been having these past months: because I love you, you think. Because I love you, and I want to save you.

You don’t say it, don’t say anything, but he’s watching your face carefully, and you think maybe he hears you anyway, somehow. He raises one shaky hand and cups your face, so light it’s barely there.

He kisses you chastely, gently, then shuffles backwards, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Three minutes,” he says. “Put the wall up now. Do it now.”

“Taehyung,” you say, but you have nothing to follow it. You do as he says, pulsing your palms towards the floor between you, feeling the magic swim through you.

You both watch the clock, together, in silence.

He paces, and you miss the moment he leaves you, leaving only the beast. But you notice his movements grow choppier, and you watch the exact second that he smells you.

His head wheels around, fangs displayed, crackling grumbles beginning to emit from deep in his chest. He stalks towards you, elbows bent up behind him, until he hits your wall. He bounces backwards almost comically, then snarls louder, eyes narrowed at you. They swirl, like pools of ink.

He tries again, slower this time, pressing his hands to the wall he cannot see, investigative. You try to breathe evenly, to ensure the magic holds. His gaze snaps back to you, his mind putting together the pieces and figuring that you are causing the problem.

He snarls at you, jaw snapping, lip curled, cursing your existence in the ancient language of the Infracti, which you aren’t sure he’s even fluent in when he’s himself.

You put your shoulders back and walk closer to the wall you made.

“If you want something,” you tell him firmly, “then you need to ask me in my language.”

The beast freezes in place, eyes locking on you. The curl in his lip relaxes just slightly, and he blinks at you. He cocks his head just slightly and blinks again. It’s like you can see him thinking, cogs in his head turning.

Then, voice raspy and entirely unlike Taehyung’s low, honeyed tones, he grits out, “Drink?”

Your heart pounds.

“Not too much,” you say, still firm, like you’re giving directions to an unruly toddler. “If you take too much, I’ll die, and then you never get more.”

His head cocks to the other side. His brows furrow. “Small?” he asks.

“Very small,” you say. Your legs don’t even feel like jelly beneath you - they feel like nothing, so numb with fear that they could be gone and you wouldn’t know. “From here.”

You hold out your wrist, veins up, and look at him. “You understand?”

“Yes,” he says, licking his lips in anticipation.

“I’m putting the wall down,” you tell him. “Come slowly.”

He waits, and you do. When you nod, he comes forward on that jolting, uneven gait, as if it’s screwing up his whole balance to move at a human pace for your sake.

He takes your arm in his hands, nails biting into your skin as he forgets his inhuman strength, and you grimace.

“Only a little,” you remind him, heart pounding so hard in your ribcage that it’s almost painful.

His swirling, black eyes land on yours as he brings his mouth to your wrist. You feel like you can’t breathe, the anticipation is so strong. A detached part of you knows that he could get one taste and lose this tentative control, that this could be your last moment.

You sort of wish you’d called your parents before coming.

You cry out when his fangs sink into you, instinctively flinching away, but he holds you so tight that you stumble closer to him instead. The pain is bone-deep, not a shallow pinch like a shot - and that’s frightening, your systems telling your brain that there’s danger, that something is wrong. You start to struggle, to try fruitlessly to push him away, alarms going haywire in your mind, and then -

And then the venom hits you.

The pain is eradicated - or, at least, you don’t notice it anymore. Instead, a high comes over you, and you feel like you’re floating away, the room going quite bright as you feel the unfamiliar and startling sensation of blood being pulled towards the wound as Taehyung sucks at it, his tongue running circles over and around the puncture marks.

“Enough,” you manage to say, your voice seeming disembodied to you, coming from nowhere. The beast lifts his mouth and snarls at you, before returning to lap at the rivulets of red that run over your wrist bone.

“You said small,” you remind him, trying to stay grounded. “Let me breathe, let me make sure I’m okay, and then you can have more.”

He utters a sentence at you in his language, hands tightening on your arm to the point they hurt.

“Back off, or I’ll knock you back,” you warn him. His eyes narrow as he processes the threat. It might be empty - you’re not sure you can do it one-handed.

Then, for just a second, his eyes flash human again, the whites showing. It’s him, your Taehyung, and he releases your arm so frantically it’s as if it burns to touch it. He takes two steps back, eyes wide and frightened. You blink, and he’s gone. The beast is back again, that quickly, frustration coming back over his features.

You throw the wall up as quickly as you can.

It doesn’t work.

He’s on you in an instant, so quickly you don’t see him move. Your back hits the wall behind you and you let out an audible grunt. He cages you in, a hand on either shoulder, pressing you into place against the stone, and he uses his tongue to swipe along his fangs, cleaning remnants of your blood from them, as he looks you over. Slowly, he leans his weight on you, his hips pinning your hips, his chest pinning your chest, his hands firm on the fronts of your shoulders.

Your breath comes in and out in shaky waves. You’re not sure you’d still be standing if he weren’t holding you in place. You try not to think about all the places your bodies are touching, the weight of him over you, the stuttering rhythm of your heartbeat, the fiery look that he settles over you. You try not to think about how precarious this is, how easily he could let go of his control and simply tear your throat out in one seamless motion.

He sniffs at you, fangs displayed and ready, as if trying to find the place most palatable. Your heart pounds desperately, and beneath his inhumanly strong hold, you can feel your muscles shaking. Your body knows you are about to die, even if your mind still wants to lie to you about it, to pretend otherwise.

He chooses a spot near the base of your neck, near the front, and laves at the spot with his tongue, giving a happy hum as your pulse thunders visibly over the inch of skin. You close your eyes, feeling your whole body shudder in terror.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, barely able to give volume to the word.

The beast pulls back and looks at you, reacting to the sound of its name. Somewhere in there, he recognizes it. Somewhere in there, he recognizes you; you watch as he draws even further back, then removes one hand from your shoulders and reaches for your uninjured wrist instead.

He lifts your limb to his mouth easily and you flinch before anything even happens.

“Here?” he asks, in that gritty, not-Taehyung voice, and your eyes snap to his.

He’s asking permission.

You are not going to die. Maybe.

“Small,” you utter. Then, since it seemed to work a second ago to use his name, to remind him who he is, “You promised, Taehyung. A small one.”

The puncture hurts - enough that you cry out again, the pain deep and throbbing, the cry morphing into a sob of agony - but the high comes quickly, melting it away. The sensation of blood being pulled to your wrist is less frightening this time, and you breathe deeply, trying to assess how dizzy you are, if you need to tell him to stop yet.

“Enough,” you say, and he licks one last stripe over the wound before taking his mouth away. Blood smears around his lips and down his chin, but his black eyes watch yours, obedient, waiting. His chest heaves as he waits, like it’s hard work.

Maybe it is.

Maybe it is only a sliver of Taehyung’s humanity shining through that is keeping you alive right now.

You both wait, him still pressing you to the wall by one shoulder. You breathe, closing your eyes for a long inhale and then opening them again.

Taehyung’s eyes are human, and he opens his mouth as if to speak. He blinks. They go black again. Whatever comes out of his mouth isn’t human.

He presses closer again, raising the wrist he just bit up to his face and inhaling deeply. He sticks out his tongue and licks over it once more, then continues to trace up your forearm with his tongue, past the crook of your elbow, stopping when he finds the pulsing point of the brachial artery in your fleshy upper arm.

“Here?” he asks again. He shudders, blinks, and your Taehyung looks at you.

This time he manages to speak, all in a rush, before he’s sucked under again. “You should run,” he tells you, breathless, and then only snarls fall from his lips as his eyes flash black again.

You press a hand to the monster’s cheek, blood still rising to clot at the first wound he’d given you. The beast looks at you, waiting, mouth still inches from your bicep, waiting for permission.

“Yes,” you whisper.

This one hurts worse - maybe the bite is deeper. You hear yourself shout and your eyes roll back, your knees giving out beneath you. The beast uses both hands and his hips to hold you up, press you in place, as he sucks and licks at the twin wounds in your arm.

The high comes, but combined with the blood loss it’s no longer pleasant and floaty. Instead, you feel yourself weakening, unable to remind Taehyung to stop, unable to even stand. The room goes fuzzy as he pulls more blood from you, becoming nothing but colors, and your head spins so violently that it makes you want to cry out.

He stops when your head lolls, brow furrowing as if he’s trying to remember why he doesn’t want you gone. He licks at his lips, rising to stand, and picks you up, your jelly-like arms flopping over his shoulders. He carries you easily to the large bed on the other side of the room and places you down gently on your back.

Your head lolls to the side and you work on breathing, work on staying here, not floating away. The beast sits on the bed next to you, cross-legged, and waits, watching your chest rise and fall, watching your eyes go unfocused and then come back again.

After some time, you do settle back into yourself, the high from his venom dissipating and your mind clearing as you rest. You still feel weak, a bit dizzy, but the room comes into focus again.

The beast has been waiting, and he sees it immediately when you’re coherent again. He stretches out his legs and rolls over top of you, holding himself up with his arms. He presses his nose to your most recent wound, the one in your upper arm, and gives it a long sniff, and then one last lick.

Then, he noses his way up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps, past your shoulder, and up to the junction of your neck. He presses his lips to the spot he wants, licking at it, feeling your pulse thud against his tongue. You feel him shudder, wanting.

“Here?” he asks, leaning up to look at you.

“Last one,” you breathe, unable to sound any more firm than that. You can only pray that he listens, that enough Taehyung is in there to know you mean it. “Last one, or it’ll be too much.”

“Small,” he says, a promise, and lays himself over you, heavy. He sinks his fangs into your neck and your whole body reacts to the white-hot pain, hands coming up to claw fruitlessly at his upper arms, legs scrabbling against the sheets, eyes screwing shut, breaths heaving noisily through your open mouth as you pant through the pain.

He drinks longer here, despite his promise, licking and licking over the spot like one might scrape the bottom of the bowl for any last dregs of soup. You float, incoherent, trying to count your inhales and exhales, trying to measure your heartbeats and ensure they’re not slowing too much.

He doesn’t remove himself from you when he’s done, and it’s honestly kind of nice having his heaviness over your body - you know you can’t actually float away, something is tethering you here. He sniffs and licks and presses his lips against the wound on your neck, but doesn’t drink more, doesn’t suck anything from it.

Then, as your head begins to clear a final time, he noses his way up your jaw, still pressing his open mouth to spot after spot, tongue tasting your skin but not puncturing it. Finally, he finds your mouth, pressing his lips to yours in a searing, lingering kiss that you try your best to return.

When he pulls away to look at you, his eyes are his own, brown and anguished.

“There you are,” you manage, trying to reach up for his face. You can’t get your hand high enough, and your arm flops uselessly back to the mattress. For some reason, this makes tears prick at your eyes. You want to touch him, your Taehyung, want to feel closer to him, protected by him. Instead, you can only look at him as he pants over top of you, clearly exerting himself even as he’s holding himself still.

“Run,” he begs in between pants. You shake your head, flopping from side to side. You don’t want to leave him. Your Taehyung is here, fighting to get through, and you don’t want to leave him.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and he closes his eyes, still panting. Fighting. Fighting it with everything he has. “Please.”

“I’m - trying -” he lets out between gritted teeth, but when his eyes open again they’ve gone black again.

You wait for him to pick a new place to bite, to ask permission. Instead, he shifts to lay next to you instead of over top of you. He pulls you tight against his chest, one arm over your middle, tangles his legs between yours, and buries his face in the back of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“No more?” you ask, trying to turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. You find it hard to believe that he’s satiated… but that last bite was long, dizzying. Maybe he is.

“You said,” he grumbles, the monster’s gritty voice still coming out somewhat petulant and pouty. “You said last one.” Then, his voice turns hopeful. “Tomorrow? More tomorrow?”

“Okay,” you breathe; it’s an easy promise to make - tomorrow you can talk to normal Taehyung, your Taehyung. Tomorrow at this time, chances are you’ll be safe in your own rooms. It’s a promise you won’t have to keep.

“Yes,” the beast grumbles, wiggling closer to you, but you think it’s a happy grumble. “More tomorrow. Now, sleep.”

The room spins a few times, then settles. You feel him press his lips to your shoulder, then return to the back of your neck. It takes a lot of strength, but eventually you manage to lift your hand high enough to grip his.

With his body firm behind yours, his hand under your hand, his breath against your neck, you let yourself float away.

—

You’re awakened abruptly by hands jerking you around by your arms - lifting you up, rolling you over, turning you this way and that with a frantic energy that you are too sleepy to comprehend.

“Stop,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut. Somewhere deep in your mind you know it’s Taehyung, and you know he’s freaking out, but you were sleeping so well, and you’re so bone-tired - probably from the blood loss. You just want him to leave you in peace, in the dark room and fluffy bed, to sleep many more hours. “Taehyung, stop it.”

“I bit you,” he utters, horrified. He’s holding you in a sitting-up position, and you work hard to open your eyes to slits so you can see him. His eyes - humanlike, beautiful brown - dance between the puncture marks on your upper arm and the ones on your neck. He curses in Infracti, the word coming out quieter than a whisper. “I hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” you insist, eyes adjusting. “I’m tired, and I’m starving, but I’m fine.”

You scoot away from him a little, laying back against the headboard, too weak to hold yourself up for long. He’d been kneeling as he turned you from side to side, assessing the damage, but as you get more comfortable he climbs off the bed entirely, coming around and sitting on the edge near your torso.

He clearly hasn’t cleaned up this morning - he’s in last night’s rumpled clothes, dried blood caked on his jaw. Despite this, he looks no more dangerous right now than a teddy bear, with huge, worried eyes and a pronounced frown.

“I can’t believe you’re even alive,” he utters, still whispering. “Why did I agree to this? God, you could have died, I could have killed you -” His voice completely breaks, and he brings up a hand to cover his face, ashamed and guilty.

“Taehyung,” you say, reaching up to tug his hand away. He lets you, but looks steadfastly at his feet, his eyes swimming. “Hey - I let you, I told you it was okay. You didn’t do anything without my permission -”

“I know,” he bites out, then swallows hard, his facial muscles quivering as he fights off emotion. “I know, I remember, but it doesn’t matter - it was still dangerous. It’s a miracle you’re alive -”

You stare at him. “What do you mean, you remember?”

He freezes too, coming to the same realization as you.

“I… remember,” he repeats, eyes widening. He turns his body to face you, looking at you wildly, desperate for an explanation. “I remember every bit of it,” he adds, voice breathy with disbelief. “I couldn’t stop myself from doing any of it, but I was there.” His eyes linger on yours, lost and baffled. “How can that be?”

“You broke through,” you say softly, the only explanation to the magic’s inconsistency. “Somehow, you pushed through it - enough to control yourself, and enough to remember.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, deep voice still breathy, shaking a little.

“It means…” you pause, collecting your thoughts. “It means that even when the curse is active, your humanity isn’t gone, it’s just suppressed. It’s there, we can reach it. I’ve had this wrong all along - my countercurse was trying to replace it… but really, I needed to just… unbury it. And…”

“And?” He tilts his head cutely.

“And… well, there’s probably a level of…”

You trail off, embarrassed, unsure. You don’t know how Taehyung feels, but you know magic and countercurses.

“What?” he asks, reaching for your hands, which lay limp over your lap.

You press your lips together, mine for courage. “It seems like you came through once you recognized me. It makes me wonder… I mean, I’d hypothesize… whatever it is you f-feel for me,” you stumble over the words, starting to mumble, “acts as a counter to something built into the curse.”

He blinks at you a few times, his thumbs absently stroking the backs of your hands. Then, as if he’s asking about your breakfast order, he clarifies, “Love? Love counters something in the curse?”

You pull your hands from his, your body reacting defensively - as if it’s sure this is a joke being played on you.

“What?” he asks, oblivious.

“You what?” you manage, heart pounding desperately against your ribs.

He frowns at you, like you’re being purposely obtuse. “I love you,” he repeats, like it’s not a big deal at all, no more weighty than saying I’m wearing black shoes tonight.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, shaking your head. “What are you saying? You can’t love me - I’m nothing, just a human, I’m not -”

“Are you joking?” he asks, and he actually looks angry, suddenly. “Nothing?” He scoots closer, brushes his thumb up your jaw, then leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours and closing his eyes. “You have never been nothing,” he says, voice dangerously low. “Never.”

You want to protest, to object, but then he’s lifting his chin to slot his lips against yours - soft at first, then more insistent - and the words die on your tongue, replaced by a small, happy sigh.

When he pulls away, he shakes his head, eyes closing. “Y/N, if something had gone wrong last night, and it had been my fault, I think I would have lost my mind. Truly. I might be losing my mind anyway just because it almost happened. I’m so sorry you went through this.”

“Nothing almost happened,” you press back. “I knew what I was getting into. I knew what I was agreeing to.”

He shakes his head again, wordless, and reaches for you, long fingers reaching to pull you from your spot against the pillows into his lap instead. You allow it, letting him pull you closer until you’re straddling his legs, his arms wrapped tight around your back, pulling you ever closer.

Safe, you think, as he presses his face to the top of your head, giving you a squeeze.

Lips close enough to your ear that he can speak so quietly it’s barely there, he murmurs, “You must have been terrified.”

“No,” you assert, shaking your head, causing him to pull away and look at you. “Not once I knew it was you.”

<- Prev || Next ->

KBYE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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rwrbficrecs · 3 months

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The last of our monthly recs for 2023 ❤️ Every Day’s a Holiday (When I’m Near to You) by bleedingballroomfloor (book-verse)

@dot524: I loved every bit of this road trip fic. Henry has a crush on Alex and impulsively decides to join him on a road trip to Texas, which turns out to be longer than expected. The delicious yearning, only-one-bed situations, and funny road-trip pit stops made this a great story. I didn’t want to stop reading.

@heybuddy-drabbles: this ticked all my boxes honestly. The pinning, the yearning. The friendship they build while falling in love. And then the love, wild and unstoppable and so free. It was just perfect.

I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard? by dollarstoreannabethchase (book-verse)

@dot524: A deliciously angsty Henry POV of key events in the book - lake house & storming of Kensington Palace. Broke my heart and put it back together again. The description of his depression and pain made me want to give Henry a hug.

Last Christmas by @celaestis1 (book-verse)

@suseagull04: Enemies to lovers meets Christmas feels and found family. The establishment of every relationship, both romantic and platonic, in this fic is fantastic too!

Never Did Run Smooth by @clottedcreamfudge (book-verse)

@dot524: What a delightful ride! I loved the unique reality-show setup and the roommates/best friends to lovers pining from Henry’s POV. It had a few fun plot turns that kept me guessing and many scenes that made me grin like an idiot (e.g. a cake-baking contest and partner yoga with someone else). This isn’t exactly an undiscovered gem based on the number of comments and kudos — but I hadn’t read it, so I wanted to spread the word for those new to the fandom!

No Consequences by @anchoredarchangel (book-verse)

@thesleepyskipper: In this AU where Henry is still the Prince but Alex is a civil rights lawyer who works with Pez, the author has given us an incredible meet cute!! Alex pulls an Alex and shoots his shot for a selfie that turns out pretty well for him in the end. 😏 The author’s writing of Alex here is absolutely spot on AND hilarious. I still can’t believe this is their first published fic!!!

@zwiazdziarka: this fic has everything one could ask for: it's funny, it's cute, it's awkward, it's hot and addictive. I can't stop thinking about this version of Alex and Henry and their characterisation is absolutely perfect!

Made For Love by @candyspandemonium (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: AU where Henry and June are ice dancing champions and Alex has a lot of feelings about some guy stealing his sister. There are just so many good things in this fic - emotions, Alex being totally unhinged and not realising what it means, Henry as perfect fantasy, dealing with media and public opinion - and all that in nice scenery of ice rinks. Can't recommend it enough!

(Secret) Santa Baby by @indomitable-love (book-verse)

@dot524: Such a sweet AU about office romance between Alex and Henry and how a Secret Santa gift & being paired together on a project leads to something more. Heartwarming and made me smile… this writer’s characterization of Alex & Henry is always spot-on for me, no matter the universe.

The Royal Magician and the Ravens of the Tower of London by @bluflamingo (book-verse)

@suseagull04: The world-building in this fic is phenomenal! It's the perfect blend of magical realms and the real world, mystery and magic AU, and I love it!

could it be mad love? by @duchessdepolignaca03 (book/movie-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: actors AU, but also Henry is Alex's biggest fan and his awkward celebrity crush adds all new flavour to their relationship once they meet. The range of emotions fit in this story is truely amazing. There's so much tension and every moment feels like the one where it all can turn into a dissaster or something absolutely wonderful.

where every wish comes true by @hypnostheory (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: Neighbors!au + fuck buddies. Alex locks himself out of his apartment in a filthy costume and his neighbor and fuck buddie Henry takes him in. It's very funny and sexy!!

#monthly faves #rwrb fic recs #firstprince #firstprince fic recs

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cvlutos · 1 year

Text

"NOTHING GOOD HAPPENS AFTER DARK"

RIDDLE R. v LEONA K. [MALE!READER]

ALICE IN WONDERLAND x RED RIDING HOOD [CROSSOVER]

T.MANOR: TRYING A NEW LAYOUT AND WRITING STYLE. ALSO, THIS IS PRETTY MESSY WRITING SO BE AWARE

| PART TWO |

| FEM!VER | GN!VER |

EVERY Tuesday, exactly at noon, does the stone clock tower chime. Without delay, you hear the sound of trumpets, the marching of hooves, as the golden gates of the palace open. Wide and big, as the card soldiers, in perfect position, march upon horses of black and white, wearing that of red with swords attached to their hips and spears within their hands. Preparing for the Queen’s weekly hunt. The crowd cheers, waves banners, as they yell sayings of good luck.

The cobblestone path is tight, crowded with people, big and small, infants to the elderly, all in hopes of seeing the benevolent Queen off. Even if this same celebration will happen next week as well. In seeing him in all his grandeur. Something you’d “sadly” miss, with your woven basket tight in hand, warm and heavy from the fresh baked delights, all from the Clover bakery. You shimmy through the tight crowd, moving in the opposite direction and were, quite frankly, in the way, even as you walk along the side house and store walls. You mummer ‘excuse me’ and apologize as you go, giving sheepish grins to those who spared you a glance.

You would rather be at home, yet you promised your mother you would go. You promised to go to the bakery, to buy your grandmother’s favorite treats and sweets and deliver them to her. She lives just outside the town and in the center of the thick woods, just on the other side in a small cottage in the middle of the northern woods. A journey you’ve made countless times, and on less crowded days. Yet today, your mother was extra worried, extra concerned for your grandmother’s well being. Even if you promised, you’d go first thing in the morning tomorrow. Yet she forced you anyway. Well, guilt-tripped you into going.

‘What if she’s already dead? Hm? What would you do then?’

Return home? Tell the authorities? Cry? Yet the look on her face told you she didn’t want any back talk, so you gave in and left.

You forced yourself further down the path, spotting the familiar opening that you’ve always taken. The town you live in is surrounded by a large stone wall. Tall and thick, with only one way out of the village, and one way in. Yet this impenetrable wall has a hole, fairly big, that anyone could fit their largest ox. So you had no trouble merely crawling or walking through. The alley that led to your secret path was uncrowded, as if waiting for you and you alone.

You shimmy forward, pushing past local residents. Some allowed room for you, having noticed you, others merely rolled their eyes. You pop your head past the road barricade, searching the long stone road. The card soldiers were far. Far away to where you could make it without interrupting them, or them even noticing you. You step over the thick string, glancing one more time, before you make haste. Darting onto the clear, wide road. Ignoring shouts and gasps as you make your way to the alley. Stopping to catch your breath, you turn around. Some of the crowd are merely laughing you off, others completely ignoring, some glared at you disappointedly, yet none made a move to call the guards on you. Your eyes scan the road. You hadn’t dropped anything, and if you did, you’re sure no one would even notice.

Slightly proud of yourself, you continue on, moving past the eccentric alley system, moving quickly past houses and shops, jogging towards the large wall.

You’d be fine.

══════ ♡ ══════

“HALT.”

The crowd becomes silent, and everything pauses. A send off has never once stopped. The Red Queen, golden crown glinting in the sun, his hand raised high. His horse stands still, the same confident and demanding energy as his owner, bows his head, as the Queen flows off the saddle. Heels clicking against the stone road. He walks forward, taking exactly five precise steps, before crouching, leather gloved fingers swiping along the stone. How he saw just a small thing, no one will ever know. The squished remains of strawberry cream cheese tart, a small delight. He rubs the cream between his fingers before rising just as quickly, holding out his hand for a napkin. It appears within a second. He turns on his heel, glaring eyes scouring the crowd, before landing on an older man.

“You! Who ran across here!?”

“Uh! I have no clue, your—your majesty.” He gives an embarrassed, clumsy bow, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. “Then you tell me?” The Queen looks at another, a young woman, who automatically stiffens her posture, face paling.

“A-a man! A young man. With—with a wooden basket and red cape.” The crowd nods along eagerly.

“In which direction?”

Multiple hands point towards the alley, all in fear to face the Queen’s wrath. With a single snap, five card soldiers appear by his side. “Search for the one with a red hood. Such disrespect shall not be tolerated.” There’s a chorus of ‘yes! your majesty.’ Yet not a soul moving til the Queen re-asummed his position upon his horse. “We will resume! While in search of this Red Hood!” His voice is thunderous, and as if nothing happened, everything returns to normal.

══════ ♡ ══════

The leaves crunch beneath your feet. As you continue your long trek, the path is winding and bumpy, covered in wild leaves and branches, the cobblestone hidden beneath the foliage. The basket sways within your hand as you walk and wander along the familiar path. The cool breeze flutters your crimson cloak, and you pull the hood to cover your head and protect your ears. Wishing to have worn pants instead of trying to be cute with your red shorts and white knee-length socks.

The Queendom is never cold, unless the Queen desires cold weather.

It always remains at the perfect temperature, always a warm summer breeze and a perfect summer day. And as you venture deeper into the woods and further away from the Queendom, the cobblestone path slowly crumbles and slowly turns to dirt. You stop at the threshold, glancing behind you. Something about today seems different.

You hope it’ll be a good day.

You venture into the woods.

══════ ♡ ══════

“Ruggie. I’m heading out. Ill be back.”

He lets out a low yawn, stretching his muscles as he walked towards the cave entrance, not giving Ruggie, his right hand, a chance to respond, leaving the hyena beastman to do whatever it is he’s doing. He pushes past the thick vines of the cave, leaving the warmth of the cave and giving a shallow nod to a young wolf beastman who currently was guarding the large camp, with the others like him. “Ill be back before dawn.”

“It’s noon? And the Queen and his guard is hunting today. Far from us, but still. Are you sur—” The lazy king gives a short wave, swatting away the beastman’s concerns, stifling another yawn, leisurely wiping tired tears from his eyes, while the wolf opened his mouth to speak.

“Jack!” The duo looks towards the urgent voices. Two young beastmen, a young tiger and an older bear, both you jogged frantically, seemingly having to run across the majority of the temporary camp. They slow to a stop, giving a quick bow to their pride leader before turning to Jack.

“The Queen’s Knights. Theres five of them! Theyre asking for you presence!”

“Of course. I’m on my way. Leona.” Jack turns to their sleepy leader, only to find the place where he stood empty. He’s brows furrow, before quickly giving up and motioning for the two to lead the way.

The Queendom of Roses and the Pride of Kingscholar. While the Queen occupies the Northern woods, the Kingscholar current occupies the East portion. Over months of arguments and fights, the Kingscholar Pride has been slowly forced to the outskirts and south, while the Queendom slowly takes over the North and East.

Jack and the two beastmen run side by side, running towards the end of the camp, coming across the five poised card guards. They all sit on white pristine horses, not moving an ounce as Jack slows and straightens out his white button-up shirt. “Where is Leona Kingscholar? We shall only speak to one of authority.” The voice is muffled by his thick metal helmet, clasping to his reins and swords.

“He’s away. What you need can be spoken back to him.” Jack crosses his arm, keeping a scowl upon his lips as the knight scoffs.

“I shouldn’t expect more from your kind,” Jack clicks his tongue but doesn’t speak, letting the knight continue, “There’s a human boy in red. He has ruined the Queen’s sendoff and thus must receive punishment. If you find him, you know best to hand him over immediately.”

“I have no such obligations.”

“Right—” You can hear the confidence in his voice, as he shifts the reins, getting ready to move, “It’s only best to consume your meat fresh. I hope you don’t get red fabric between your fangs, wolf.”Jack gives a low growl as the horse becomes spooked, rushing over, earning a yelp from the knight and gasps from the other silent four. They watch the group ride off into the forest, before letting out a huff.

“Jack. What should we do?”

The tiger beastman speaks first, which earns a thoughtful sigh from the wolf beastman. “Nothing. I’m sure Leona will find the boy before we do. Continue as you were.” Jack turns on his heels, rolling his shoulders as both boys shout and eager ‘yes’. This camp is only temporary until they reach the eastern mountain’s summit, and beyond that will be the savannas once you cross the mountains. Something Leona has been avoiding for the longest time.

══════ ♡ ══════

The farther you walk, the darker the woods get. Yet the twisting and winding path doesn’t lead you astray, a path in which you’re acquainted with. And as the trees grow closer and the leaves block the sun, it feels colder, as luminescent mushrooms and flowers that grow alongside the path glow in hints of blue and yellows, give you little light, while pollen that glows a soft purple flutters through the air. It’s absolutely enchanting, with towering thick trees and small sections which sunlight peeks through, highlighting the vibrant green plants and bushes. You hum softly, playing different games as you walk, occasionally eating one of your grandmother’s snacks.

“Youre quite far.”

You screech, nearly jumping out of your skin at the new presence of a voice. You look around and see no one. Your heart pounds against your ribcage. After a few moments, you left out a huff, slowly calming yourself.

“Especially during the Tyrant’s Hunt,” There’s a low chuckle that sends shudders down your spine and you look around frantically, “He might very well mistake you for a deer.” A rock zooms past your head, barely missing you and striking the tree behind you. Your body stiffens.

“Can you not speak?” It’s taunting and drawn out and you shiver as if ghost hands caress your body.

“What do you want—?”

“Now that is the question,” The voice lets out a low hum, and you hear the shuffling of plants, “I am quite hungry.”

You get a horrible feeling, and nearly trip, as something, or a someone, bolts through the thicket. A lion beastman. Before you can react, nails digging into your shoulders, and the new weight forces you to fall back, and momentum pushes you and him to roll over yourselves. Until you’re once again on your back, with the air from your lungs. Your eyes fly open, staring into amused deep emerald green eyes. You wince at the feelings of nails digging into your shoulders, close to breaking your skin and making you bleed, but he doesn’t. Only giving you the sensation of nails breaking skin. Your heels dig into the earth as you desperately try to regain your breath.

“Oh… Dont look like that. You act like I’m going to eat you. Well,” His hands move from your shoulders, letting you crawl backwards and away as he rested on the balls of his feet, forearms resting on his thighs as he tilts his head to the side. Eyes trailing you up and down, staring at the expansion of your bare thighs and legs, a low whistle slipping past his lips. “I might. In a more human way.” A shiver rolls down your spine as you use your cape to cover your legs. He visibly looks displeased as he looks at your face.

“Little Red Riding Hood on the run from the Queen.” He hums and youre eyes widen as you stagger to your feet.

“What? I didn’t do anything?!”

“Doesn’t seem that way,” his tail flicks lazily, his finger drawing in the dirt in clear boredom, “you somehow made the little tyrant mad.” He stands and you step away, he makes no move toward you. Green eyes gazing around the forest before stopping and landing on the path, in the direction in which you came. You follow his gaze and when you look back, the lion beastman is extremely close, his nose brushing against yours. You jump away and he rests a hand on his hips, while the other holds out your forgotten basket.

“I would get going little red. Unless you want to be headless.”

You take your basket and glanced the path, you could hear the pounding of hooves. You grimace before turning around, sharing one more glance at the beastman before darting down the path, back onto the road to grandmother’s house.

══════ ♡ ══════

There’s six. Six horses, five knights, one tyrant.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, kicking up dirt and letting out a yawn, he was pretty hungry. Maybe you’d and your grandmother might make a good snack after he’s done here. He counts the seconds before the Tyrant comes into view, an ever-permanent scowl upon his youthful face. He’s pristine and upon seeing Leona, he ordered his soldiers to stop and with ease slides off his horse and marches 10 steps before glaring at the Lion Beastman.

“Queen’s rules dictate that youre not allowed within the northern forest on Tuesday afternoons. In all honesty, I should send you and your pride further east for such disrespect of the Queens’s rules.” His words are venomous, speaking precisely that has his knights flinching even if the words weren’t for them.

“It’s Tuesday? I had no idea. Oops.” Using his pinky finger, he cleans out his ear with a bored expression, earning a harder glare as the Queen struggles to remain calm.

“No matter. Do what you want. I have more pressing matters.” He holds out his hand, and immediately, a parchment scroll is placed within his hands. The Queendom of Roses has always been the most efficient and quick. Undoing the rolled parchment and holding up the paper, your face was drawn most beautifully, a perfect reflection almost.

“Pretty isn’t he.” Leona furrows his brows, watching the Tyrant marvel at the photo, his nose scrunches in disgust.

“What are you on, Riddle?” Gasps and quick inhales come from the knights, yet the Queen doesn’t seem to mind, only few can call him by his name.

“If you must know. He disturbed my send off, and I assumed he was some ruffian. But to now see a drawing of him. He is quite cute and I am in need of a King,” He tilts her head with a gleeful grin, that seemed misplaced and lovesick, “Though I will have to break him in, make him more obedient. But I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

“You truly are sick.” Riddle face morphs from love-struck to angry, rolling up the parchment delicately, before clearing his throat.

“I suggest you go. Unless—” A arrow shoots past Riddle’s head and grazes the fullness of Leona’s cheek before striking the tree behind him. Green eyes widen a mere fraction, and the tyrant beholds the tiniest smile. The card soldiers werent mere decoration, yet they arent that smart either. One of them must be a skilled huntsman.

“You know what I am capable of. I hate to have to make you my target instead.”

The leader of his pride rolls his shoulders lazily, with his thumb wiping away the blood on his cheek. “Absolutely. Id hate to make you angry. Know if you’ll excuse me, this lion is quite hungry.” And without another word, the lion stalks into the unknown of the woods.

══════ ♡ ══════

The path to grandmother’s house seems a lot longer than it usually does. Usually you’d be at her tiny cottage within an hour or two, yet it feels like days since you entered the woods and encountered the lion beastman. As if the forest was alive, living, breathing. As if the path beneath you were snakes whose bodies twisted and turned, knocking you off your feet.

You land with a hard thud, shaking your head. The forest is darker than before. How long has it been? You know the path and you know it well yet; you search your surroundings lazily, feeling as if you were submerged in thick oil, and the word seemed muffled. You spot vibrant red mushrooms that seemed to inflate before releasing a thick white gas. Hallucinations. They’re carnivorous mushrooms, but they’re never active during the day, nor on the path. Theyre new. As if purposely planted, but that’s ridiculous.

And it couldn’t possibly be night.

No.

You struggle to your feet, gripping the basket and meandering.

Walking.

Until a beacon.

Off to the side of the path, nestled in between two large trees, if you walked further down the path you’ll come across the small cottage village, with her golden porch light, was your grandmother’s house. With her stone walls and wooden roof were covered in moss and mushrooms, while her red painted door was visible. You pick up your pace, stumbling occasionally as you reach her rickety wooden porch, a wide grin upon your lips as you knock on the old door.

“Grandma!” You call through the wood, yet no reply. You grab the gold doorknob, turning it and slowly pushing the door inside, letting yourself in.

It’s the same as you remember, with the fireplace on, with fresh logs. There was no collection of dust, and the couch looked recently sat on. Her throw blanket and decor pillows were out of place. You close the door behind you, slipping off your shoes, and placed the basket on the dining room table. While undoing the strings of your cape and calling out to your grandma. You move deeper into her home, before reaching her bedroom. You knock.

“Oh, darling! I’m feeling quite sick, but come in. Come in.” Her voice sounds the same, and your tense shoulders drop, as a smile spreads across your face as you open the door. Only to find her bed empty and made, with the window wide open. You step further into the room, looking around, before you hear a soft click and you spin around, only to find the lion beastman from before. He isn’t looking at you, but instead squeezing a small bird.

“Mimic birds are quite useful. Able to mimic to the voice of anyone and anything once they hear it.” He releases the bird, and it frantically flies out the window. You step back. “You—My grandma!” You suck in a panicked breath and the man only shrugs. Striding his way towards you, his hand moving faster than you could comprehend to grab your face and squeeze your cheeks.

“What do you think—” His free arm slides around your waist and forces your close, you try to push him away, “I did. Maybe I ate her. Gobbled her up like a big bad wolf,” He faux pouts before clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes in personal annoyance, “Or lion, that fits better doesn’t it.” He shakes your head aggressively, speaking like a mother would to a child when they’re fussy,

“Maybe ill eat you up. Wouldn’t you just like that—” He lets you break away with a laugh, watching your glare, and he tilts his head and eyes moving out the window.

You can hear horses.

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solar-sunnyside-up · 6 months

Note

hey! sorry to bother you, but is there anything a teen without transportation in a rural area can do on their own? im pretty isolated, and theres barely anything around me.

Hey ya sprout 🌱

**A disclaimer Punk comes with some risk socially. Particularly if your in a rural area this risk goes up bc people Know You and also typically these spaces have a different vibe to alt ppl in general. Some activities are more or less risky and I'll try and do my best to give you a range of stuff from the whole spectrum! Of course this is a generalization of rural areas. Some palaces will be more cool then others depending in so many factors I couldn't go into here**

Rural solarpunk

Your gunna been to pick a topic, sorry babe. In order to not burn yourself out and in order to feel like you have an impact your gunna have to pick a cause to chip away at but I'll give you ideas! And remember just bc your focusing on one thing doesn't mean your ignoring or not helping others. Everything is interconnected and any help, helps all!

So let's give you some ideas to focus on:

Libraries- as a teen in particular you'll have access to a library at school, but depending on how big your town is you might have a public one as well. Become their biggest supporter! They are a great safe space, even conservative ones are still a good place to go for archiving/loitering purposes. They give you spaces to print stuff, to build clubs and community.

Archiving- if you cannot leave your house due to access you can always do stuff online and hear me out, i know when we do stuff online it feels like half points. Like we arent doing anything. I feel that with this blog, it feels so passive no matter how hard you work youll feel lesser. But Archiving is vital to humans! Think of the anthropologists wholl thank you down the road! Plus it does actually give you a way to have a physical representative of work your doing. Dvds, pirating media and archiving them to drives, collecting vinyls/tapes/cds!

DIY- To fight against fast fashion (although that barely exists in the towns I've been in tbh) and to stick out** you could make your own patches, battlejackets, gloves, etc.. They are statement pieces you can wear whenever your in town/at school/social spaces that ppl know what you stand for and who you are. Depending on who/where you are this might be risky so take what you can bare ok? You don't have to wear these items too you can just make them for later on!

Little libraries/little pantries- in a rural space you have more Gruella tactics you can take if you do them in random abandoned spaces. You could build a waterproof little pantry and stock it and leave info somewhere about it for ppl to drop off/pick up items. Stock it with mittens! With canned goods! With books! You might be able to do a space like this at school/library depending in how cool your town is too!

Zines- You could look into making a zine and even if it's digital you could have the QR code for download in places (stickers on lamp posts, flyers in school bathrooms, hidden in a churches pamphlet stacks >.>) making a zine is a cool task that is time consuming and informative and fun!

Vandalism- like I said you can often print off stuff at Libraries, or usually you can find a place to print stuff off near or at post offices depending on how modern your rural space is. if you have your own printer this will reduce your risk by quite a bit though! Create/find stickers or posters you want to toss across town or even school. I'd recommend starting off with some stickers and see how their handled, dipping your toes is important with these kinda things. If your really feeling it, and you know some abandoned places Moss Graffiti is also a good option! I've know ppl who have converted old abandoned stored to skate parks (I honestly have no idea how they built the ramps out of concrete but damn!! Good job guys!)

Also I'll leave you with 2 book recommendations as well-

Moxie - a RIOT GRRRL story about a girl who gets so fed up with her conservative town she makes a feminist zine and distributes it via girl bathrooms (even having a basically me too stickers and encouraging ppl to put it on boys lockers who have assaulted them). I know there's a movie, didn't seem to capture the same vibe tho so book!

Braiding Sweetgrass - this focuses a lot on reconnecting and adding story to nature around us and having science along side spirituality

#sporut guide #reaping week #solarpunk #hopepunk #anticapitalism #punk #rural #cottagecore #community #ecopunk #direct action

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mxtantrights · 7 days

Text

Bounded by blood and shadow (24)

azriel x magic!fem!reader

Cassian watches as the young children of the village run around Azriel. It makes him happy to see his brother so celebrated. He knows that all he’s gone through weighs on him heavily every day. Being here, being with you, helps relieve that pressure. All the anger and guilt that comes from his childhood before he came under the care of Rhys’ mother.

“It’s…nice. To see him like this.” Nesta says to him.

Cassian gives her a smile.

They both watch Azriel pick up one of the children and throw him over his shoulder. The shorter ones jumping up trying to reach, the ones on the taller side full on stretching their arms to get the little boy. Azriel laughs at the efforts.

“He deserves it.” Cassian adds.

“He always has.” Morrigan chimes in.

She tracks how the kids are rough housing him, but are being careful about his wings. They must know a lot about him, she thinks. They know about his wings. And they aren’t scared. They see his shadows and they aren’t scared either. One of the little girls is being chased around by a few of them. Morrigan’s face is laden with a smile.

“I was wondering where the three of you went.”

They all turn around. There’s Amren. She’s standing there in a deep red cloth outfit. It’s hot in Sangri now. It never really reaches cold, even if they are basically an island. Cassian had complained about his leathers making him sweat buckets and ditched them about five minutes into the visit. He was supposed to look formal but he wasn’t about to sweat all over the place.

“We had to see it for ourselves.” Nesta answers.

Amren nods, “Well, we’re about to begin. So if you wouldn’t mind telling the shadow singer to wrap it up.” Cassian catches something in Amren’s tone. A thing he’s never heard from her before. Nerves. She’s nervous to talk to Azriel? That is not a sentence Cassian ever thought he would think. He would never say it out loud either.

And with that Amren is walking away. Back to the palace. Morrigan and Nesta both cut and run, leaving Cassian to tell his brother. He scoffs at their childishness but he bucks up always. He walks slowly, and tries to come off as non-threatening as he can to the children. Azriel sees him coming and puts the little boy down on his feet.

“It’s good to see you brother.” Azriel says.

Then Azriel brings him into a hug. Cassian has almost always been the one to initiate hugs between them. It’s not like Azriel has never done it, it’s just a rare occurrence that usually only happens when one of them almost dies. Cassian smiles and squeezes his brother tighter. With a few claps on the back the two pull away from each other.

“We’re being requested to come inside.” Cassian says.

Azriel sighs, then he looks at the children, “I have to leave now.” There is a loud chorus of boos and awes from them. They all swarm Azriel to give him a hug. Cassian watches in amazement, it’s a sight he truly can’t believe. And then all the children disperse amongst themselves, some back to their houses and others down the road towards the common areas.

“This suits you brother.” Cassian confesses. Azriel smiles at that.

You dismiss the palace assistants from the office. Really you hired them because it was too much work for yourself, but you also really needed more people with you inside the palace to get rid of the bad memories. When it was you just you, Amren, Azriel and the cooks it was still a bit to quiet for your liking. That’s why you went out of your way to look for any village people who needed a job.

But tonight didn’t really need to go off without a hitch. It was more so an informal homecoming.

The blood benders who left for the night court are back home for a couple of days. To visit family, to take a break from training, and to do whatever they please. And Rhys wanted to visit with the inner circle for diplomatic reasons, so he said. You think he has something else up his sleeve but you don’t want to push it. To show his face to your people and show support.

You weren’t too fond of having Elaine here, but you’d have to put up with it. At least for a few hours. Then she could go on her way and you yours.

A knock on the door tells you all you need to know. You told Amren to gather them and send them your way.

“Come in.” You speak.

The door opens and they come waltzing in. Rhysand and Feyre arm in arm, Then Morrigan, Nesta and Cassian, then Elaine. Last to walk through the door is Azriel. You don’t miss the smile he sends your way as he does. And you can’t help the smile you send him back. He shuts the door and walks over to your side.

It’s in this moment you realize that they don’t know you’re married. Azriel hasn’t told them. And It’s pretty much known in the village so it’s not like it would suddenly be a topic of conversation. You highly doubt if they knew they wouldn’t come barging into this room and asking you about it. Here they are, sweet smiles and waiting for you to talk.

“I’m glad all of you made it here. I hope you’ll enjoy your visit.” You greet them.

“I already am. That ale is really good.” Morrigan answers you.

You smile, “It’s becoming great for out economy. We export to Summer and Day now.”

“Well, I’ll be having some later.” Cassian adds.

“Seeing as this is a homecoming for the blood benders I sent three trunks of our favorite wines.” Rhysand says.

“That’s thoughtful of you.” You thank him for the gift.

“I hope you didn’t touch any of my wine, boy.” Amren speaks up.

“Don’t worry, we haven’t touched your things since you left.” Feyre answers her.

Amren makes a face at that, but nods nonetheless.

“And I’m here to propose a new idea to you, empress.” Rhysand speaks again.

“Go on,” you say.

“Since you are graciously lending us your blood benders for the war, I was wondering if you would like some fae.”

It throws you off. It knocks you off balance completely. You lean back on the desk and cross your arms over your chest. You can tell your eyebrows are furrowing, meeting tightly in the middle, based on the tension there. Fae in sangri? Huh. It’s not like the blood benders were sharpening pitchforks and lighting fires because of Azriel and Amren. But more of them? Why? “Is there any particular reason why I would want fae?” You ask him.

Rhysand clears his throat and loses the smirk on his mouth. This isn’t going to be good. Whatever the hell is about tumble out of his mouth is going to be the opposite of good, you assume. Feyre’s hand brushes up and down his upper arm. She’s comforting him. What is he about to say?

“Well it would seem that, uh, after relocating to the night court that one of your blood benders has coupled up with a fae.” Rhysand answers.

“So you want to send fae here to encourage interspecies relationships? I never thought you were the type.” You tease.

Rhysand lets out a forceful laugh, “Well I am sorry about that. But I mean, it goes to show that you and Azriel would be welcome to the night court should he ever want to return.”

The room goes silent. Amren lets out a loud sigh. You look over at Azriel. So that’s what this was really about. You liked having the blood benders return home. You also liked that your diplomatic relationship with Rhysand was becoming more positive. But this right here lets you know that he’s not just thinking of one thing all the time. The fae is used to tactical and political approaches. He wants Azriel back home. What foes it he nigh court without its spy master?

“I’m staying here indefinitely.” Azriel puts quickly.

“And how are you supposed to work? I’ve given you months but we have to figure this out.” Rhysand replies.

“I have figured it out. Effective immediately I am no longer the spy master of the night court.” Azriel answers. Your eyes widen and you turn to him. He looks at you, as serious as he gets, and doesn’t break eye contact. He did tell you that he would have to formally make this decision. But you didn’t think it would be today, you didn’t think it would be right now. You thought he might go home, visit with his family, maybe talk out some sort of deal. You were okay with whatever he wanted, it’s just that this seems to sudden.

“Brother, we can talk about this.” Rhysand says.

You turn back. So does Azriel. You have half a mind to think Elaine would speak up and say that you were taking him away from his family. You look at her. She’s not even looking at you, or anyone really. She’s playing with a bracelet on her arm, gold and with red and orange charms on it. You look back to Rhysand.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I have given every inch of myself in your service, and I don’t need a thank you or a reward for it. But I do not wish to spend my whole life doing that.” Azriel states calmly. Cassian steps forward after that.

“Wait, so are you saying that you’re never coming home?” He asks.

Azriel steps forward to meet his brother face to face. He places his hands on his shoulders.

“I will still visit the night court. I will still hang out with all of you. But, my place is here.” Azriel says.

“It’s what he wants.”

At the sound of her voice, everyone including you turns to Elaine. You are surprised to say the least. She looks up from her bracelet at the group. You watch as she carefully looks all of them over, her eyes seemingly teary. You wonder why.

“I thought you of all people would say the opposite.” Amren says.

“Amren.” Morrigan chides.

“She’s right. I was against the two of them for so long,” Elain says and then she looks at you, “I really apologize for that. And for what I said to you that day. I see it now. I understand what it’s like to be called to someone that isn’t part of your world.”

You nod your head, “Thank you for the apology.”

Azriel places himself back at your side, a bit closer than last time you notice.

“We respect your decision, Az.” Feyre says.

No doubt having to speak for all of them because Cassian and Rhysand don’t necessarily agree with it, but will say that they do for the sake of their friendship with Azriel. You slide just the slightest bit closer to Azriel, your arms brushing together. He leans in closer to you too.

“If you send fae here, you’d have to come and visit them every once in a while.” You say.

“If I send fae here, you would have no use for them.” Rhysand responds.

“I guess that’s why being empress is useful. I could come up with a reason and everyone would go along with it.” You reply.

Rhysand looks at you then, shock on his face for the smallest of moments. You can tell. It disappears as quickly as it came but you saw it. He smiles at you and then bows his head.

Morrigan claps her hands together, “Well I declare this meeting over, seeing as I have more ale to drink and a very short amount of time.”

Amren opens the doors and leads the way out of the office. Feyre, Nesta and Morrigan leave first. Elaine right after them with a small look over her shoulder at you. Which leaves you, Azriel, Rhysand and Cassian in the office.

“I can give you three a moment.” You say, trying to excuse yourself from the two males.

Azriel reaches for your hand with his. He stops you. You turn to face him fully. He looks like he wants to say something but he can’t quite get the words out You knew he wasn’t one to openly talk about his feelings so easily. You don’t want him to regret not telling his brothers how he feels.

Cassian playfully scoffs, “Can’t keep your hands off of her, can you?”

“My wife—“ Azriel starts.

“Your what?!” Cassian’s booming voice sounds.

“I knew it.” Rhysand smirks.

“You didn’t know shit.” Azriel scolds teasingly.

“Oh, but I did. The blood benders that came to the night court spoke about it on the first night.” Rhysand answers.

You wince, completely forgetting that they could say something. It’s not like you swore them to secrecy.

“So why weren’t we invited to the ceremony? I mean, kind of mean if you ask me. I could have been best man or whatever the humans call it.” Cassian jokes.

You look at Azriel, “Maybe we should just tell them.” “No, no. I like the confusion.” He answers you.

“What’s she talking about?” Rhysand asks.

You nudge Azriel with your elbow, and he groans. You turn to the two other males in the room.

“When he drank my blood, in front of all of you. That was it. That’s when, technically, we got married.” You answer.

Cassian and Rhysand stand there in shock, confusion and a secret third thing you can’t put your finger on. You watch as they look between you and Azriel, their eyes darting back and forth. The room is silent for a few moments.

“As soon as we tell Mor, she’ll want to plan a whole wedding for you.” Rhysand states.

“And Feyre would no doubt love to host. Any picks for best man?”

Azriel laughs, “You two are incorrigible.”

Then the two of them look at you.

Rhysand extends his hand out to you, “Welcome to the family.”

You take his hand and shake it, “Thank you.” When the two of you let go, Cassian cuts in between you and engulfs you in a hug. It catches you by surprise but you return the gesture. He lifts you a bit off the ground which makes you laugh. “Finally, someone else in the family who can kick his ass.” Cassian says.

“Untrue.” Azriel.

#acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fic #azriel imagine #Azriel x reader #azriel fic #blood and shadow

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carniferous · 17 days

Note

okay hello i’ve come to offer a vague concept ❤️🤲 the first thing that came into my mind is like being in a car. and something being wrong w the car. which sounds so stupid but is hopefully vague enough?? also idk if i’m meant to specify a ship but (and you probs already know what i’m gonna say) ur bartylus genuinely changed my life and it’s always on my mind and im obsessed w it forever and ever and would die if you ever wrote them again (but also like. no pressure. i don’t wanna try and tie you down to one specific pathway) ANYWAY i hope this is vague enough but also not too vague that you’re just staring at me blankly rn… icl babe u really didn’t set any parameters so i’m kinda trying to spear fish in the dark here but im gonna stop talking now…. eagerly (but patiently!!) awaiting ur response <33

LMAO NOOO thank you so much this is exactly the level of vagueness i wanted!!! i simply need to let things cook in my beautiful mind palace before i can write + vague concepts work best for that

anyway i tried to do it justice for u. it's more barty character study than bartylus sorry but. also it's compeltely unedited!! do with that what you will xoxo

“I knew it,” Regulus murmured, a hand coming up to cover his eyes. He was slumped down in his seat, the lines of his face stark in the pale moonlight. The motorway stretched out empty and endless before them.

Barty clenched his jaw and turned the key in the ignition once more. The engine sputtered loudly, just enough to give him some small shred of hope, before it promptly died for the fifth time.

“Dammit,” he hissed, thumping his hand against the steering wheel. He turned to Regulus, “What?”

Regulus lowered his hand and glared fiercely. “I knew I was going to die in this metal box the moment you persuaded me to get in.”

“And yet, you still let me persuade you.”

“Barty.”

“What?” Barty grinned. “You’re not going to die, Regulus. Cars are only dangerous when they’re moving.”

Regulus scoffed. He looked about five minutes away from having a conniption—which meant that Barty had about three minutes of continuing to fuck with him before he got properly angry. His hands were clenched in the fabric of his trousers, and when he turned his face towards the window, Barty could glimpse the deep shadows under his eyes as they appeared under the light.

He felt his heart soften, just a tad.

“I have a plan,” Barty said.

Regulus rolled his eyes so far back that they disappeared into his skull: “Oh, joy. Another plan.”

“They’ve gotten us this far, haven’t they?”

“Yes, stranded on the side of the road with you,” muttered Regulus. “Exactly where I want all my plans to lead me.”

At that, Barty felt a strange, wild sort of affection swell up within him. He wanted to lean over and bite the nape of Regulus’s neck hard enough to draw blood, wanted to crowd him against the door until all that bluster and exasperation fell away. But there would be time for that.

“Don’t you want to hear my plan?”

“No,” Regulus said sullenly. “I want—”

He stopped. Barty’s grin abruptly fell away. He reached over and cradled the back of Regulus’s head, firmly enough that he had no choice but to face him. Regulus kept his eyes downcast, an unhappy twist to his mouth, a sickly tinge to his face that the low light couldn’t hide.

“Hey,” Barty said, and he curled his hand into a fist in Regulus’s hair. “Look at me.”

Regulus’s gaze flickered up.

He was a living bruise, a walking heartache. Two weeks ago, Barty had looked at him as they packed their things for the end of term, and he’d known that Regulus wouldn’t survive another summer in that house—not as himself, anyway. He knew it the way Sirius must have, before he left, and he understood. Better than he’d like to admit. Sometimes it was easier to pack your bags than to watch someone like Regulus tread water and insist that they weren’t moments away from sinking.

In that respect, though, Barty was different. He didn’t care what Regulus wanted. He wasn’t going to leave him to drown.

Besides. Barty was fed up, himself.

When he spoke, his voice was low and steady, and Regulus listened with wide, unblinking eyes: “We’re not going home. Do you understand? There’s nothing back there. Nothing. Forget it, Regulus.”

A beat of silence. Barty’s grip loosened, he made to pull back, and then—

“What about your mother?” Regulus asked with a horrible little glint in his gaze.

“What about her?” Barty replied without missing a beat.

Regulus blinked. Barty almost laughed at him. Could have, at the idea that Regulus thought he’d trapped him with that. His mother, who’d wanted Berty out of that house perhaps even more than he himself did. Regulus could never understand that.

What he could understand, though, was the terrifying, exhilarating sensation of freedom. Of the surprising vastness of your own mind when it was vacant of everyone but yourself. Of sitting in a car stranded on the side of the road and becoming aware of your own mortality. Death was suddenly an end to something real and full of potential.

After what felt like an eternity, Regulus asked, “What’s your plan?”

“I turn seventeen in five hours,” Barty said. “Once midnight hits, the Trace will disappear. I’ll fix the car then.”

“You don’t know how to fix it.”

“At least I know it’s called a car and not a ‘metal box.’”

“You want us to spend five hours in this thing?” Regulus said, as though catching up with his own disbelief.

“Technically, seven hours,” said Barty. ��We still have to make it to Bath. And then, once we pick up the twins…”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Barty shrugged—a loose, slouching thing. He noticed Regulus’s eyes track the motion with nothing short of predatory glee. “Orgy in the metal box?”

“I hate you.”

“You love me,” Barry cajoled, grinning from ear to ear. “Why else would you run away with me?”

There was a long moment of silence, in which Regulus gazed, baleful and petulant, out at the road in front of them and Barty gazed at him. Already, he was more animated, more tetchy, more acerbic than he’d been just days ago. The cobwebs slowly clearing from his eyes.

Sometimes, Barty recognized Regulus like the slant of himself in a shard of glass. But other times, Regulus was just very beautiful. Barty wondered if there an element of vanity in wanting him, to the prideful joy he got out of fucking him out of his own head. The idea that he could press Regulus down hard enough to mold him back into himself.

On very rare occasions, he wondered if he was like his father. If the only love he knew was what he learned from the voice in his head as it puppeted his limbs about. If that presence was more himself than he was. A normal person would look at it with revulsion, would see complete and total control as a firsthand abomination.

But it was because Barty knew the abomination firsthand that he knew also the complete, total, clean satisfaction of such control.

“You were hardly the first to ask,” Regulus said mildly.

Even in the darkness, Barty could see the flush travel down his neck. He grinned and, without another word, reached over and unhooked Regulus’s seatbelt.

“I didn’t ask,” he replied, just as mild.

#my writing #bartylus #ask #thank youuu i had so much fun writing this! bartylus is such a fun challenge for me #regulus black #barty crouch jr

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thelov3lybookworm · 18 days

Text

Mine? (Part 3)

Part 1

Summary: He finds what he wished he hadn't.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: ahahaha i love how this is going😈

anyways, enjoy!

(dividers by @saradika-graphics)

Y/n's hands rested on her hips as she studied the cupboard she had placed in the corner of her room, debating whether the pink onesie was cuter or the purple one.

After all, Adelaide needed to look adorable for her uncles.

In the end, Y/n settled on the red one.

Y/n grinned down at her daughter as she put tiny red clips in her hair, Adelaide babbling up at her.

"Are we so happy today? Is it because we're meeting uncle Nash, Jamie and Xan? Is that it?"

Adelaide squealed at that, shoving her fist into her mouth.

Y/n laughed, straightening when she heard her phone ringing. She quickly picked Adelaide up, gently letting the babe rest on her shoulder as Y/n hurried over to where her phone buzzed on the living room coffee table.

"Hello? Nash?"

"Nope."

Y/n rolled her eyes at Jameson's voice. "What's up Jamie."

"Nash wanted me to tell you that the driver has arrived to pick you up."

Y/n's eyes widened as she glanced over to the clock on the far wall. "Oh? Okay that's great, I'm about to leave the house."

A loud crash came from the other side of the line, and Y/n winced, a fond smile taking over her face. "Do I wanna know?"

"Nope." Jameson seemed to be laughing as he spoke. "It's just Nash handing Xander his ass. Nothing new."

Y/n hummed, then said her goodbyes before hanging up, shoving her phone into her pocket before hurrying out of the house and into the car. She was alert, her eyes constantly flitting around to make sure she was not about to be jumpscared by Grayson.

She found a shiny black sedan with dark, tinted windows waiting just outside the apartment entrance. The driver, clad in an all black suit stepped out, opening the door for Y/n, and the sight of the middle aged man made Y/n smile.

She gave him a nod of greeting before getting in the car, moving slowly so as not to jostle Adelaide.

Y/n felt triumphant when the car started to drive down the road because she had managed to avoid Grayson, who had been visiting her and standing outside her door everyday for the past three days.

Little did she know that the blonde man had been frozen in astonishment on his way to her apartment building when he saw her get into the car.

Little did she know about the white car now following her.

Grayson was surprised- to say the least- when she left her house. He was very aware of how his presence was causing her distress, and if he was being honest, he hated how he had somehow begun stalking her. So to remedy that, he was going to go to her house today, slip a note through her door, letting her know that he was leaving, and then fly back home.

He still wanted to meet with his daughter, because however unplanned and a surprise she was, she was still his, and he was not going to abandon his child the way his father had abandoned his. But that was probably not going to happen anytime in the near future, and he was not blaming Y/n for trying to keep their daughter away.

So when he spied Y/n getting into the black sedan, his interest was piqued.

And like any normal human would do, he put his foot down on the accelerator and sped after her.

In hindsight, he shouldn't have, considering he had an inkling who she was going to meet after recognising the driver of the vehicle, but if she really was going to meet who he thought she was, then he didn't know what he was going to do.

The car turned into a street Grayson was familiar with, and when the car came to a slow stop in front of the palace like hotel, Grayson's heart started beating in an uncomfortable rhythm.

She could be meeting with anyone, right?

He tracked her figure, his eyes fixated on the little hands wrapped firmly around Y/n's body as she entered and vanished behind swinging glass doors.

She could be meeting anyone. Not necessarily someone he knew.

Anyone.

The moment he could no longer see her, Grayson hurried to park his car in front of the hotel, shoving the key in the hands of the staff member who came to assist without looking and followed Y/n.

He could only get a glimpse of her retreating form before she turned the corner to get to the elevators, and Grayson hurried over to the reception.

"Which floor was she going to?"

The receptionist, a young girl, blinked at him.

"I'm sorry sir, but I can't give you that information-"

"Alright fine, here. Let me check into my room." Grayson slapped his black card down, impatient.

The girl's eyes widened before she grabbed it. After a moment of typing away on her computer, she glanced up at Grayson, looking like she might cry.

"I'm sorry sir, but someone's occupying that room who-"

"Then empty the room." Grayson cut her off before he could hear the words he was dreading, but she continued on like he hadn't just spoken over her.

"Someone who has the same card checked in yesterday evening. Three people actually."

Grayson stared at the girl, his breathing hard, before he realised he was not acting like himself. So he straightened his posture, let his mask slip into place, and glared at her.

"They won't mind if I give them a little visit."

She looked annoyed at that. "I can't let you-"

"Good morning sir. If you'll just follow me this way."

Grayson turned around to find the manager of the hotel, the one Grayson knew very well, glaring at the receptionist before leading Grayson away.

It was a few long minutes before Grayson reached the top floor, and, his heart beating in his throat and blood rushing in his ears, he reached out to tap the card in his hand to the door.

He found what he wished he hadn't inside.

Four pairs of eyes staring straight at him in horror.

One of them Y/n.

The other three pair of them?

His brothers.

Mine taglist: @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @blocked-zombieartist @lillycore @lanterns-and-daydreams @bubybubsters @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch

#grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne #the inheritance games #tig fanfic #tig x reader #grayson x y/n #grayson hawthorne fluff #grayson x reader #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne x reader angst

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suchawrathfullamb · 3 months

Text

Fic Prompts

I told you I had a lot of them

They can't live luxuriously and need to be on a constant run so Will builds them a little house from an old truck/bus, Hannibal paints and decorates it, they live on the road. Cozy vibes.

Painter Hannibal/Model Will

Bakery owner Hannibal who uses blood in the cheesecake's jam/Criminal Journalist Will who is freddie loundsing around to find out about people getting drained (for the cheesecake). Cheesecake Ripper opportunity here.

Post-fall amnesia Will, is always getting lost, "will you find me again?" he asks, "always", Hannibal tells him.

Cult leader Will seduces Hannibal to kill for him.

Prince Will/Hunter Hannibal

Snow White AU, don't ask, I have no more elaborations

Young Hannibal and Young Will meet in their shared mind palace.

#use them as you please just tag me cause Id love to read them!#hannigram #nbc hannibal #hannibal #will graham #murder husbands #hannibal lecter #fanfic #prompts

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hearts-hunger · 2 months

Text

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Back at the haunted house in the off-season, Danny and the boys are working on repairs to the set. You're still a scaredy-cat, and Danny's still your biggest fan. || Sequel to Kitkat

Pairings: Danny x Reader | Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort | Word Count: 6k | Warnings: anxiety, general Halloween spookiness

A/N: Danny and Kitkat are back!! When I first introduced them, I was so humbled and delighted by how much you guys loved them. I hope this sequel does justice to how much love you've lavished on them, and I hope you love it too! ♡

Can you make it through the woods of horror? Enter if you dare!

You smiled to yourself as you passed the signs along the winding country road, watching each slogan become more and more threatening the closer you came to the most highly rated haunted house in your state. They didn’t seem very ominous in the golden light of late afternoon; despite their menacing promises of terror and danger, you found yourself looking forward to reaching the place they advertised.

Of course, that hadn't been true the first time you came down this road nearly two months ago; that night, you’d already worked yourself into an anxious spin just reading the signs before you’d even stepped foot on the property. Still, it had worked out alright in the end; so well, in fact, that you had willingly made many trips back despite being the biggest scaredy-cat in the world.

Finding a parking spot in the near vacant, grassy lot was easy enough, and you carefully juggled the drink carrier out of the passenger seat and started the walk into the woods. The trees were a wash of vibrant color, fiery reds and oranges and yellows; the sunshine came dappled through the leaves, rays of honey-golden warmth on the path. You took a deep breath of the crisp air as you held the armful of coffees close, thankful for their cosy warmth against your chest as you walked.

After a few minutes of leisurely walking, using the shortcuts that Danny and the guys had shown you, you reached the gate that led to the set and couldn’t manage to open it just by pushing your hip against it. You knew the boys couldn’t be far; you heard strains of their conversation mixed in with the sounds of repair work being done. You got a better grip on the drink carrier, careful of the precarious ones on top, and called to them.

“Honey, I’m home!” you said, making your voice carry. “I have your presents!”

You heard jogging footsteps come up the path, and a second later, Sam rounded the corner. He opened the gate for you and gave you a sweet smile.

“Hey, kitkat,” he said. “Glad you could make it.”

You smiled. “Thanks,” you said. You nodded to the topmost coffee. “Yours is the one on top. Oatmilk, right?” You had the sudden thought that you might have gotten it wrong and felt terrible. “Unless it’s almond milk you usually get and I totally messed it up.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said quickly, taking it from you. “Oatmilk’s perfect, thank you. It’s really nice of you to bring us coffee, kitkat.”

“I figured you could use a little treat after working so hard all day,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, sure. Jake and Josh have spent more time writing music than repairing the set, but yeah, we’re working hard all right.”

You laughed as you started to walk with him towards the set the guys were working on. “You don’t think they can multitask?”

Sam grinned. “Have you met them?” He shook his head. “I mean, they’re writing some good stuff, so I guess I can't complain. But we’re also trying to get these sets repaired before Christmas.”

“What does Danny think?”

“Oh, you know Dan. He’s totally in the zone. He’ll have the whole place looking like Buckingham Palace by the end of the day.”

You smiled. “If Buckingham Palace was haunted.”

He laughed. “You’re getting the idea.”

The set was only a short walk from the gate, and when you reached it, you took a moment to look over the swampy pirate shack that looked much less threatening in the daylight than it had every other time you’d seen it. The boys had asked for overtime after the season was officially finished, getting a list of sets and props from the owners that needed repairs or new paint or just a little bit of cleaning. They'd been working their way through the woods for a few days, and when they were finished with the outdoor sets, they’d tackle the crown jewel of the haunted house up on the hill.

You noticed with amusement that Sam had been right about his brothers; they were working, putting a new coat of paint on the “beware of alligators” sign and the accompanying reptilian skull, but they were rather passionately working on the lyrics for a new song while they did. It was probably a good thing that the paint job could be passed off as “artistically sloppy” to fit with the ramshackle aesthetic.

“Here, glimmer twins,” you said, handing them each a cup of coffee. They gave you a pair of matching smiles.

“Aw, thanks, kitkat,” Jake said. He touched up a drip of red paint to make it a little more grisly. “How’s it looking?”

“Scary,” you said cheerfully. “How’s the songwriting?”

Jake laughed. “Good, actually. Too bad Josh isn’t as good at painting as he is at coming up with lyrics.”

Josh pointed an accusing paintbrush at his twin. “I’m terrific at painting, Jacob.”

Jake gave him a dry smile. “Start doing some, and then we can talk.”

“I’ve been painting all morning!” Josh said, gesticulating with the paintbrush again and sending drops of paint flying.

“Hey!” Sam protested. “You’re getting paint everywhere.”

“You could use a little paint on you, Sammy,” Josh teased. “The only reason you’re all pristine is because you’ve been too busy not painting to actually get anything on you.”

“Now, Josh, them’s fightin’ words,” Sam said in an exaggerated Texas twang. He took another paintbrush from the bucket and twirled it like a cowboy would spin his pistol. “This shack ain’t big enough fer the two of us.”

Smiling to yourself, you left the brothers to their playing and painting and bickering, walking around to the other side of the pirate shack to find your boyfriend. You followed the sound of a hammer and found Danny working on the porch, straddling the railing as he reached to put nails in a beam along the underside of the tin roof.

“Hey, Dan,” you called up to him. He didn’t answer, and you noticed he had earbuds in. You came closer and put your hand on his thigh.

He stopped hammering and looked down at you, his face breaking into a handsome smile when he saw you.

“Hi, honey,” he said, surprised and happy. He paused his music and put his earbuds in his pocket. “I didn’t know you were here yet.”

You felt yourself blush a little under the affection in his gaze, the warmth of his smile as he looked at you. Nearly a month after you’d made it official, you still got butterflies from how clearly he loved you and enjoyed your company.

“Here I am,” you said, almost shy. “What were you listening to?”

“Palomino,” he said. “First Aid Kit.” He kept one hand on the railing as he leaned close to kiss your nose. “I’m glad you’re here, kitkat.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, endeared to how sweet he always was to you. You presented him with your gift. “I brought you some coffee.”

“Aw, thanks honey,” he said. “Can you hold onto it for me until I’m done? I just have a couple more things to hang, and then I can take a break.”

“Can I stay with you while you do?” you asked, not wanting to be a bother while he worked. “I promise I won’t get in your way.”

He chuckled. “Of course you can stay.” He left his work for a moment to brush off the porch’s top step for you. “I’ll only be a few more minutes.”

You sat on the step and sipped your coffee, thankful for the warmth of your sweater as a chilly breeze fanned through the woods. Danny wore a long sleeved black shirt and jeans; you allowed yourself a long, pleasant moment of admiring how he looked in them, big and strong and limber, particularly enjoying the way the hem of his shirt rode up as he reached to hang decorations on the nails. His backwards baseball cap was the finishing touch on his mop of curls, and you liked to watch him focus on his work and look very handsome doing it.

“How’s it been going so far?” you asked.

He didn’t answer right away, and you thought maybe you should save conversation for when he was done.

“Is it distracting if I talk?”

“No,” he said, making sure the bear trap prop he was hanging was secure before looking over at you. “Sorry, I'm listening. We’ve made good progress today. I think we’ll be able to start on the house when we’re finished here.”

“Really?” you said, a little surprised. “I thought you still had the spider tunnel thing to work on.”

“That’s actually being completely torn down,” he said. He drove a nail in with a few hard whacks of the hammer and looked around for the decoration he was supposed to hang. “Can you hand me that shrunken head?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” You grimaced a little as you picked it out of the prop box. “If they’re tearing it down, what are they putting there instead?”

He took the head from you. “Thanks.” He tied a piece of fishing line to it, pulling it tight with his teeth. “I don't think they know what they’re changing it to yet, so there’s no work to do on it right now. They’re keeping the spider web tunnel, just making it shorter, and putting it between the house and the woods. So I guess we’ll have to do it when we do the house.”

You leaned against his thigh. “What do you think they should put in the spot it used to be? Or are you going to miss it being there?”

He smiled, and there was a little wryness to it that intrigued you.

“No, I don’t think I’ll miss it,” he said.

“You don’t like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s not my favorite scene. I think they should do an alien abduction thing in that spot.”

“Ooh, like a crop circle or something?” you asked. Though you didn’t like haunted houses, this one was a big part of your life since your boyfriend and three best friends spent a lot of their time there, and you'd kind of gotten into the idea side of things. “It could be like a corn maze with aliens in it.”

“Yeah, and when they snatch you, they take you to their ship to do experiments on you.” Danny wiggled his fingers at you. “Spooky.”

You laughed and took his hands in yours. “That’d probably get you lots and lots of kitkats, what do you think?” If any guest used the safeword, “kitkat”, the actors would stop scaring them and escort them out safely. That was how you’d met Danny, and the nickname had stuck.

He chuckled and gave you a kiss. “You’re the only kitkat I want. You know that.”

You gave a pleased hum and kissed him back. “Yeah, I do.”

After one more kiss, you let him get back to work, and when he was finished hanging the decorations he came to sit on the porch steps with you. You drank your coffee and talked for a while as the sun sank lower behind the trees; the air grew colder, and you snuggled close to Danny when he put an arm around you and tucked you close to his side.

“We should get dinner later,” he said. “I feel like I haven't seen you a lot this week.”

“Me too,” you said, playing absently with the macrame bracelet on his wrist. “What about pizza and a movie?”

“Sure.” He nuzzled against your cheek. “In my bedroom, not in the living room. I'm not in a sharing mood tonight.”

You smiled. “And what might you be asked to share, exactly?” Danny and the Kiszkas split rent on a big, beautiful old house, and you’d spent a lot of time over there since you all became friends.

“The pizza,” he said, matter-of-fact. “They’re not getting any.”

You laughed and turned your head to let him kiss you properly, and it took about two seconds of that for you to decide you weren’t in a sharing mood either. Jake, Josh, and Sam could fend for themselves as far as dinner was concerned.

Danny reluctantly pulled away after a few more deep kisses, and you protested by closing the distance again.

“Don’t go back to work,” you said, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He gave you a wry smile. “Got to, honey. I want to at least get started on the house before it gets too dark.”

“How much longer?”

He gave you a goofy smooch. “Not long. You’re so sweet to be so patient, kitkat.”

“Fine,” you agreed, mollified by his affectionate tone and touch. “But all these kisses you could be giving me instead of working — I want double when we get back home.”

He smiled, showing crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. “Yes ma'am.”

You put your hands against his cheeks. “Wait one more second, okay?”

He did as you said. You cradled his beloved face, studying the gold the sunshine brought out in his hazel irises.

“You want to know something?” you asked softly.

“Yeah,” he whispered back. “Tell me.”

You smiled. “You give me the honeyglow something awful, Danny.”

He gave a sweet laugh, and you loved the sound of it.

“What does that mean?” he asked. “I make you feel all melty and sweet and golden?”

“Something like that,” you agreed.

He kissed you tenderly. “Well, kitkat, you give me to the honeyglow too. I love you.”

Your sigh was dreamy and happy. “I love you too.”

Content with the promise of many more kisses later, you let him get back to work and helped the guys carry their tools up to the house. They wanted to get in as much work as they could before the sun set, and you didn’t mind, not really; you enjoyed keeping them company, despite the eerie atmosphere of the inside of the haunted house as it got darker outside.

“It’s missing something,” Danny said, standing back to survey the grisly surgery scene he’d just cleaned top to bottom. “What do you think, kitkat?”

Your expression scrunched in distaste, remembering the times you'd been jumpscared from a creepy doctor from behind the table. “It looks plenty scary to me.”

He gave you a fond smile. “Look at it from an artist's perspective,” he said. He pointed to a bare spot on the rack of rusty surgical instruments. “That space needs to be filled in.”

You tried to look at it as he'd said, ignoring the impulse to look away, and you had to admit he was right. “What are you going to put there?”

He shook his head. “I dunno. You want to come to the storage shed with me?”

“It’s my one and only dream,” you said dryly.

He grinned. “Attagirl. Let’s go find a bloody saw or something.”

You told the boys you were leaving for a minute, but you weren't sure they heard you as they tried to get a huge skeleton to stand up without toppling over every two seconds. Danny led you out of the house and towards the big storage shed full of props, pushing his shoulder against the door to get it to open.

He coughed a little as sawdust rained down from the ceiling. “Add this door to the list of ones that need fixing,” he said. “Good night!”

You followed him inside, feeling a little better when he pulled the chain on the overhead lightbulb. The props stacked high on shelves and hung on the walls were cast in a shadowed light, and you skirted them expertly as you helped Danny look for what he wanted.

“What about this?” he said, holding up a fake blood bag.

“Too small,” you said. “It's a pretty big spot to fill in.”

He tossed the bag back with the rest. “You’re right.”

You ventured towards the far end of the shed, looking with a critical eye through the props, and found that there was another doorway in the back wall.

“What’s in here?” you asked.

“More stuff,” he said, sifting through a box of sawed-off arms and ice picks. “This shed is actually two units stuck end to end.”

You looked through the doorway and saw something catching the light, shining faintly in the gloom — a gigantic pair of pliers painted to look recently used on some unfortunate soul.

“Hey, I think I might have found something,” you said. “In the other shed.”

He looked up from his searching. “You want me to go get it?”

“Nope,” you said stoutly. “I’m brave enough.”

He smiled. “Okay, honey. Don’t make yourself uncomfortable. If you get two steps in and ask for me, I won't even make fun of you.”

You snorted a laugh. “My hero.” You knew Danny would be nothing but kind, but surely you could handle a little walk into a dark shed full of creepy props. Right?

Getting inside the other shed turned out to be the least of your problems, since the pliers you wanted were sitting in a box on the top shelf of a very tall storage rack. You thought about asking Danny for help, since he would be able to reach them with ease, but you also wanted to get them yourself and have the bragging rights of retrieving the perfect prop. You stepped up on the bottom shelf and reached up, your fingers just grazing the handle.

“Come on,” you muttered. You stood on tiptoes and stretched out your hand — there! You grabbed the handle and pulled.

Your sense of triumph lasted half a second, because as you pulled the pliers down, the whole box came with it. You stumbled backwards to avoid the falling box, forgetting you were on the shelf and not on the floor, and careened backwards into something solid.

You whirled to see that you’d knocked into a giant Dracula, which was propped against the door you hadn’t noticed coming in. Like the world’s worst domino effect, the Dracula dummy listed to the side and swung against the door as it fell to the ground, bending the doorknob until it hung off-kilter. The door slammed closed with the momentum; the light from the other room was cut off, leaving you in complete darkness.

The effect was immediate. The prop room that had seemed harmlessly unsettling now became truly frightening, and you raced to the door to try and open it.

“Danny!” you called, starting to feel frantic. You tripped over something — Dracula, you guessed, or maybe the box — and searched feverishly for the doorknob.

It turned under your grip, and even though you knew it was Danny, the feeling of something moving without the ability to see it was nauseating.

“Kitkat?” came his voice, muffled through the door. “I’m right here, honey. Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Your eyes welled with tears. “No, but I — I’m scared, Danny. Please get me out.”

“I’m trying, baby. Hold on.”

You heard him turn the doorknob this way and that, but the door still didn't open. Rationally, you knew that the doorknob was probably so bent that it was unusable, but the rational part of your brain wasn’t exactly in charge at the moment. You put your hand on the door and pleaded with him as if he wasn’t doing everything he could to get you out.

“Please hurry, Danny,” you all but sobbed. “Please get me out.”

“I’m trying, but I can’t — ” He swore. “I gotta get this doorknob off, honey. I’m going to get a screwdriver.”

“No! Don’t go.”

“I have to, sweetheart.” You heard his palm thump against the door. “Hey. You’re okay, kitkat. Take a few deep breaths for me, okay?”

You tried to do as he said, but they were choppy and uneven. “Danny,” you said pitifully.

“I know,” he said, and you knew his voice well enough to know he was upset. “Listen to me. I’m going to get you out just as quick as I can. Do you trust me?”

You nodded miserably, then remembered he couldn't see you. “Y-yes, Danny, I trust you.”

“There’s my brave girl. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” you managed. “Please hurry.”

He didn't answer, and you hoped it was because he’d gone to get the screwdriver and not because he was questioning if he could leave you without sacrificing your sanity. It seemed a near thing at the moment — you wanted to stay put, but something brushed your face in the darkness, and you gave a shrill yelp and fell back against some other prop behind you.

The prop must have been set up with a motion sensor, and a gruesome clown face lit up and cackled at you. Your breath caught on a sob as you pulled back from it, stumbling over the box and the props on the floor. When you finally got your balance, you stood stock still and pressed your hands to your ears to try and block out the shrieking laugh of the clown face that seemed like it would never turn off.

“Kitkat!”

You heaved a sigh of intense relief when you heard his voice. “Danny!”

“Two seconds,” he said, already working on getting the doorknob off. It hit the floor with a metallic clang, but when he tried to open the door, the stupid Dracula mannequin blocked his way.

“There’s something in front of the door,” you said weakly. “Dracula.”

“What is it?” he asked. “Nevermind. Step back from the door, honey.”

You did, careful of the things on the floor you couldn’t see, and listened as Danny put his weight into muscling open the door. Finally, it opened with a wrenching sound that made you jump; you blinked in the light, dazed, still rooted to the spot as tears tracked down your face.

“Kitkat,” Danny said, stepping over Dracula and turning the clown head off, bringing its cackling to an abrupt end. He hovered near you, his hands extended cautiously as if he was afraid to touch you and make it worse. “Are you okay, honey? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, I’m not hurt,” you said in a small voice. Your expression crumpled. “Th-thank you for coming to get me, Danny.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He gathered you in his arms then, holding you close as you grabbed a fistful of his shirt like a lifeline and gave into another round of crying. He ran his hands over your back, slow and gentle.

“I’m sorry you got stuck, baby,” he said, keeping his voice low and soothing. “That scared you pretty bad, huh?”

You nodded and pressed closer to him. He hugged you tight.

“Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t completely dark,” you said, your voice muffled against him. You shuddered at the memory of being locked in total darkness.

“Why didn't you turn on your flashlight?” he asked.

You looked up at him. “What?”

His smile was sympathetic and a little bemused. “The flashlight on your phone. You didn’t turn it on?”

“N-no,” you said, realizing you’d never even thought of it. You’d been so panicky that you hadn’t even used the light you carried with you all the time, and it made you feel stupid on top of everything else.

You hid behind your hands. “Great. I'm an idiot and a total wimp.”

Danny chuckled, and the sound was warm and colored with sympathy.

“My poor baby,” he said. “You just got scared, kitkat. It’s okay.”

“You wouldn't have gotten scared,” you said.

“Aw, well, I don't know. Getting locked in anywhere is kinda scary.” He gently tugged your hands away from your face and kissed the tears from your cheeks. “I’m sorry you got scared, honey.”

You put your arms around his neck. “Thanks for getting me. I’m sorry I’m such a scaredy-cat.”

“You don’t have to apologize, kitkat,” he said, gentle and amused. “I knew you were a scaredy-cat when I met you, and I still liked you just fine. I just wish I could have hulk-smashed the door open for you and rescued you like that.”

You gave a watery laugh, and he smiled and gave you a bear hug.

“There’s that smile I love so much,” he said. “Can I take you out of this creepy shed now?”

“Into the creepy house?” you asked. The sun had almost set, casting long shadows into the shed, and it wouldn’t be long before the house and the woods were completely dark too.

“No,” he said. “I figure you’ve been traumatized enough for one day. I’ll take you home.”

“To your home, right?”

He smiled. “Yeah, to my home. If that’s what you want.”

After another big squeeze, you unwound yourself from him so you could put the props to rights. He found the light, and in the amber glow of the bare bulb, you put the scattered props back in the box as he hefted Dracula into an upright position.

“No wonder this guy is in the very back,” he said, panting a little. “He weighs a freakin’ ton.”

You found the pair of pliers you'd been after and held them behind your back.

“You want to see what all this fuss was about anyway?” you asked.

He raised a brow. “Sure.”

You showed him the pliers, and his mouth tipped up in a crooked smile.

“Those are perfect, kitkat. Too bad you had to go through all that just to get them, though.”

You have a theatrical sigh. “The sacrifices I make for art.”

He laughed and took your hand as he closed up the shed, leading you back out to the dusky woods alive with birdsong and the drifting sound of your friends’ laughter. You followed their voices up to the house, thankful Danny was still holding your hand.

“Hey Dan?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He held the gate open for you. “Sure. Shoot.”

“If you’re not afraid of the dark or clowns or axe murderers or any of this stuff... what are you afraid of?”

He gave you a wry smile. “Not telling.”

You laughed. “But there is something, right? Not something fancy like the inevitability of failure or existential dread, but something normal, right?”

“There is something,” he admitted. “Something you’d probably never think of, because it's kind of stupid.”

“Oh, Danny, no,” you said kindly. “I wouldn't think it’s stupid. I'm scared of everything, so I’m probably scared of whatever it is too.”

He smiled. “Maybe. Tell you what — if you guess it correctly, I’ll tell you.”

“You promise?”

He gave a soft laugh. “Yes, kitkat, I promise.”

You found Sam and the twins working just outside the house, putting up the structure of the spider-web tunnel. They waved you over, telling Danny to get a move on to help them.

“We’re actually gonna head home,” Danny said. He held up the pliers. “I just have to put these in the surgery scene, and then we’re out of here.”

You reluctantly withdrew your hand from his. “I don't think I'll go with you to put those up.”

He smiled and kissed your cheek. “Okay, honey. I’ll be right back.”

You ventured over to where Jake, Josh, and Sam were working, watching as they fit PVC pipes together to make a few feet of tunnel. The trash bags nearby held swaths of cotton webs that went with the dozens of boxes of fake spiders.

You pulled one of the spiders out, studying the painted red eyes and big fangs.

“These aren’t so bad,” you said, kind of proud that you could hold it without flinching.

Josh grinned. “Hey, good for you, kitkat. You’re getting the hang of this haunted house thing.”

“I don't know,” you said with a laugh. You told them what had happened at the shed, and all three of them winced.

“Well, that’s not even the fun kind of scary,” Jake said. “I’m sorry, kitkat.”

“But you found ten-ton Dracula?” Sam asked, skating over the “locked in a dark storage shed” part of the story. “I’ve been wondering where he went.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a fond smile. “Glad I could help.”

The first half of the tunnel’s structure was already finished, and you volunteered to string webbing over it until it looked like a gigantic spider’s nest. When Danny came back from his errand, you told him you wanted to stay for a little while and set it up.

“You sure?” he asked. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you assured him. “Besides, you said you wanted to get a little more work done, and I think we found something I can do without losing my ever-loving mind.”

He smiled. “Okay. If you’re sure.” He glanced at the sinking sun. “I think we have maybe half an hour of light left.”

You all agreed to work for thirty more minutes, and there was a festive and companionable atmosphere as you put up the webs and made it look as spooky as you could. You quizzed Danny on what he was afraid of, guessing everything you were afraid of; the boys joined in the game with silly guesses like “tomato soup” and “a waterslide but instead of water it’s maple syrup”. Danny just laughed and said he wasn’t afraid of any of those things, though a few of them sounded downright unpleasant.

“I give up,” you said dramatically, sitting on an empty plastic tub. “You’re just not afraid of anything.”

“There’s something,” he assured you. “But I’m telling you, you’ll never guess. Especially considering what I do for a living.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’ve got it. You’re afraid of drumsticks, aren’t you?”

He laughed, big and bright and joyful. “No, it’s not that. It doesn’t have to do with music.”

You kept thinking of things to guess as you worked, but you were distracted from your game when Jake started pulling out the spiders to put on the webs. He unearthed a huge fake spider from the box and made it sing “Boris the Spider” in his British accent, earning a round of laughter and cheers for such a good impression of The Who.

You looked over at Danny, intending to ask him what he thought of a slightly drunk-sounding British spider, but you were surprised to see a little uneasiness in his expression. You followed his gaze, trying to see what was making him nervous; the only thing in your vicinity was the spider in Jake’s hand.

“Danny?”

He looked from the spider to you. “Yeah, honey.”

“Are you... afraid of the fake spiders?”

He didn’t answer right away, and you knew you had him. He hadn’t hesitated answering any of the other guesses.

You gave a triumphant laugh. “Ha! I guessed it, didn’t I?”

You could have sworn you saw him blush. You pulled another spider out of the box and carried it over to him, watching his expression become more and more apprehensive the closer it got.

“You promised you would tell me if I got it right,” you said, a teasing lilt to your voice. You held the spider up, just inches from him. “Does this little guy freak you out, Daniel?”

He endured it for a few seconds before he batted it away. “Yes, fine, it freaks me out. You win.”

You laughed, not unkindly, and tossed the spider back in the box before you draped your arms over his shoulders.

“My poor baby,” you said, mimicking with affection the way he’d soothed you earlier. “I’m sorry I teased you with it. It’s okay if you’re scared of it.”

“I’m not scared, exactly,” he said, looking with distaste at the box overflowing with the plastic critters. “They’re just... creepy. They give me the heebie-jeebies.”

You smiled and gave him a consoling kiss. “My big guy’s one weakness,” you said, entirely amused. “Fake spiders. What about real spiders?”

He shrugged. “They’re fine.”

You laughed. “Of course they are.”

He watched your face, studying the lines and colors of joy he always brought out in it without even trying. His expression warmed, and you loved when you coaxed out a grudging smile.

“It’s dumb, right?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No way. I’m just surprised we found something you’re afraid of that I’m not afraid of.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty remarkable.” He kissed your cheek. “Now that you’ve uncovered my deepest, darkest secret, can we go home and order the deepest, dishiest pizza?”

You laughed. “Sure thing, honey.”

At home, you and Danny didn’t actually have the heart not to share your pizza with the boys; you got enough for everyone and watched a true crime documentary that had you hiding behind your hands during the more grisly parts.

“Okay, now I have to have a cleanse,” you said afterwards, rinsing off the plates to put them in the dishwasher. “I’m watching New Girl or something.”

Danny came up behind you and snuck a kiss under your jaw. “In my room,” he said, his voice low and meant only for you.

You gave a fluttery little laugh and pulled way when his kisses started to tickle. “Can I watch whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want,” he agreed. He bracketed you in with his arms, kissing along the column of your neck.

You considered that. “Can it be an old movie?”

“You could pick the most awful black and white silent film ever made and I absolutely would not care,” he promised. His hands snuck under the hem of your sweater and skated over your tummy, and despite how quickly you were warming to his touch, you couldn’t give up teasing him just yet.

“Okay, I know what I want to watch,” you said primly.

“Finally,” he said with a contented sigh, pulling you close to him. “What is it?”

You grinned. “The Giant Spider Invasion.”

He hummed in agreement. “Sure, honey, that sounds — ” He pulled back. “Wait, what?”

You couldn’t help but dissolve in giggles, and when his warm laugh joined in with yours, you felt the honeyglow something awful.

“Alright, trouble,” he said, kissing your cheek. “You’re a handful, you know that?”

“But I’m your handful.”

“Yes, kitkat. You’re my handful. You know what else?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

You smiled, feeling all melty and sweet and golden inside. “I love you too.”

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hyperbali · 1 year

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Presenting the Aeducan family tree! 👑

I actually put a lot of thought into this so I'm gonna sum up under a cut, lol

King Endrin Aeducan, Ninth of his House: What it says on the tin. As Bhelen mentioned, he was actually a second son, and took the kingship in... less than entirely honest ways; nevertheless, his rule is largely uneventful, but for the worsening of differences between the different castes. He has many children of many mothers, but only three were properly risen - and of them, his 'only' daughter is the favourite.

Lady Tasleen Saelac, The Iron Queen: Endrin's first wife, mother of Trian. She was the Commander of Orzammar's forces, and an extremely difficult-to-please person in general; she expected nothing but perfection from her son and troops alike. She would eventually die during a Deep Roads excursion, sending back only one survivor to relay the message of her party's demise because, as quoted, "he did not deserve the honor of such a death". One of her cousins is Gorim's father.

Lady Nysmila Ivo, Jewel of Orzammar: Said to be one of the most beautiful women that ever lived in the underground. It's unclear whether Endrin truly loved her, she was incredibly politically savvy, or a combination thereof, but she was the only other woman Endrin married - thus legitimizing her children by him; a fairly Herculean task, given just how many bastards he sired. One day, she simply disappeared; despite every effort to find her, it's unknown whether she was abducted, killed... or vanished of her own accord. Her absence remains strongly felt within the palace walls and throughout.

Prince Trian Aeducan, The Crown Prince: His position as heir to the throne is a given, or so he believes; he has waited a very long time to finally be given his proper dues. Despite his heritage, however, he's not a particularly strong warrior; he just knows how to browbeat people into doing what he wants, and his position leaves little room for argument.

Princess Alana Aeducan, The Golden Lady: Her mother's ambition and her father's preference have led Alana to a fairly cushioned, comfortable life; that said, she loves the thrill of the fight, and is both the strongest and fastest of her siblings - even if it's with daggers rather than a sword or shield. She wears the tattoos of Commander, a role bequeathed to her against Trian's wishes, and she is by far the most popular royal between the three... a fact both of her brothers find incredibly difficult to stomach.

Prince Bhelen Aeducan, Lord of Secrets - Being neither the heir or the spare, Bhelen was largely left to his own devices as a child, especially because he was still very young when Nysmila went missing; her disappearance, however, became the catalyst that would lead to his becoming the most knowledgeable spymaster in Orzammar. He puts on a friendly face, for the most part, but what he has learned from his family history is that the ends always justify the means.

#my art #dragon age #alana #aeducan #endrin aeducan #trian aeducan #bhelen aeducan #tasleen saelac #nysmila ivo #hero of ferelden #grey warden #queuetiful joe

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syndxlla · 10 months

Text

best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

A low stakes, high reward and self-indulgent Zelink fanfic. Canon-compliant, takes place between BOTW and TOTK

Chapter Two: You’re Safe

Read Chapter one here

Song: Sick of Losing Soulmates by Dodie

Summary: Link introduces Zelda to their new home in Hateno, and Zelda begins to face the reality of what her life has developed into.

Warnings: PTSD, body-image, mentioning of scars, passing out

Word Count: 4.9k words

Author’s Note: This shit is so sad I promise its going to eventually get happy haha.

It’s late afternoon when they get to Hateno, just when the sun is starting to low hang in the sky. The gate is quiet, probably because it was their day of worship. Little kids who usually play tag on the main road were praying to the Goddess in their houses, and farmers who practically work in the field studied their devotionals in their kitchen. Link hopped off of Epona when they got into town, guiding her and Zelda through the back road, past the Bolson homes, and over the old wooden bridge to his house.

He leads his horse to the old stable, and then helps Zelda off of her by lifting her at the waist and gently placing her onto the ground. Zelda looks around at her bearings while Link removes the bridle and saddle from his steed, refilling her trough with some water from the well.

“Well… this is it.” He presents the building with his arms open, as if it were a mansion. Zelda doesn’t say much, she just observes the structure with her hands held together, arms bed at the elbow. He leads her through the front door, waving his hand around the dust and coughing once or twice. “I haven’t been home in a while.” He awkwardly smiles. It’s dark and dank there, so quaint. “It’s no palace, I know. But I could afford it, and I really needed a place to store all my extra junk.” Zelda walks up to the weapon displays, seeing the weapons of their dead friends. lined up one by one.

Link drops his equipment, placing the Master Sword on the table, which had nothing on it but a few knife cuts and a dead flower. He moves to open a window, which creaks loudly as he pushes, startling Zelda. “Sorry, sorry.” He sniffles. The window allows the light to pour in, the sun getting slightly golden. He turns to see her staring at the portrait of all the champions that Link hung not six months ago—when he was here last. He moves towards her, nervous and apologetic. She’s so hard to read.

“Look, I know it isn’t perfect. But it’s got a bed, a kitchen, and a bath, and we can clean it up.” He places a tentative hand on her bicep, standing behind her. She looks around. “If you really hate it, we can get a room at the Inn downtown, or we can go up to Purah and Symin’s-“

“It’s perfect, Link.” She stops him and turns around. They’re about the same height, so their eyes meet perfectly.

“What?” He was talking it up out of embarrassment, this place is a dump.

“It’s perfect. Anywhere is better than that throne room. And I wouldn’t want a castle, I’ll be happy here.” She smiles, and if Link didn’t know any better he would pull her in for a tight hug. He doesn’t think they’re that close yet.

“Really?” He asks. She nods.

“It needs some cleaning up, and as much as I love your tributes to the Champions, I think we should return these weapons to their people. I think we should give them a proper burial. Finally put those four to rest.” She explains, sounding like her old self again. “You and I will never move on if we coexist with these.” She admits, and Link agrees.

They stand quiet for a moment. The dust settles. “I‘ll draw a bath for you, if you would like.” He says. “I can start on some dinner, too.”

“That would be lovely.” Zelda smiles.

They have to catch a frog that was sitting in the wooden tub before Link starts bringing in water from the well, and as they chase the bugger, Zelda hears Link’s laugh for the first time in a hundred years. His real laugh, not a polite chuckle or a distant giggle as she watched over him from the Sanctum, but an actual, full-body laugh as he chased the frog. Her entire demeanor softens as she hears it, her heart racing. He rarely laughed when he served as her Knight, and it would always be because of something Mipha said. His laugh now sounded joyous, safe. She needed to hear it.

She looks at the warm bath, Link taking time to heat the water with coals underneath before she gets in. He goes to yank the screen closed, leaving behind a towel, and some soap made out of goat milk from the farm up the mountain. He explains to her that he’s gonna take care of some things outside of the house while she’s getting clean. That he won’t leave, but he’ll get out of the house so she has total privacy. He rambles about taking care of Epona and then picking some endura shrooms for dinner. With a toothy grin he teases about maybe finding a truffle.

“Just yell my name if you need anything and I’ll come running.” He says as he places some folded clean clothes on a stool for her. “Tomorrow we can go to the general store and get you some new clothes. For now you can wear these. The trousers might be a little big, but the shirt is from when I first woke up and I was a skinny little thing. The ghost of your dad actually gave it to me.” Link laughs, clearly happy to have a companion. “I’ve bulked up since then.” He jokingly flexes his bicep and Zelda giggles.

“Link-“ She tilts her head, almost scolding him.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” He leaves, and Zelda can’t stop smiling. He’s come out of his shell so much. A hundred years ago he never spoke, and mainly communicated through sign language. She wondered if he even remembered his signs. The two of them would speak frequently through them. He taught her the entire language, it took the full year they spent at each other's side, but by the time all the divine beasts were being piloted she was almost fluent. She misses that. Sometimes he would sign things to her as she stood behind her father, trying to make her laugh and get her in trouble. It worked one too many times.

And he really had bulked up, even from when she knew him first.

She shakes her head, reminding herself that she mustn't think like that. Not about her closest friend. She sighs, truly alone for the first time in a century.

She looks down at her hands, dirty and frail. She kicks her sandals off and her feet are so sensitive to every feeling. In fact, every part of her skin feels hyper-sensitive to every sensation. She takes a deep breath, she had forgotten what it was like to breathe in. She does it ten times. Zelda then touches the water with her hand, sighing at the feeling of it. She forgot what water even felt like.

The princess stretches, and then goes to take off the white goddess gown. She freezes, not being able to bring herself to do it. Her hands start to shake, and she frowns.

“Pull yourself together, Zelda.” She mumbles to herself. She then pulls the dress up over her head, dropping it to the ground and leaving herself naked. Along with the dress, she feels like she pulls off a piece of her identity. She was truly relieved and thankful the fight was over, especially because it felt like it would never end, but she’s terrified of what comes next. She wore that damned dress for one hundred and three years. And as easy as it went on, it came off. It came off along with her jewelry, the bracelets and necklace. She stands there in complete vulnerability, heart racing.

A lump forms in her throat and she pushes it down. Looking at the white rags on the ground. She carefully steps into the basin of water, gasping as she sits in it. It takes a moment for her to control her breathing. When she doesn’t, she sighs and settles into the water, her heart relaxing. She closes her eyes and then dunks her head underwater, letting all of her long hair get wet. She blows bubbles out of her nose, and runs her hands up and down her skin. She resurfaces, tilting her head back to keep the hair out of her face, and then wipes the water off of her eyes.

Baptism. She thinks. Washing away her sins, and restarting.

She cries exactly three tears. She isn’t sure if it’s because of relief or anxiety or exhaustion and excitement or all of the above.

She sits there for a long time, not moving. It feels good to be in the water, she feels comfortable and safe. She tries to bring herself to move but can’t, maybe her muscles were finally settling into exhaustion. She just sits there, not even really thinking, just existing quietly.

It was simultaneously silent and blaring loud all of the time inside of the trance-like-state she lived in while sealing away The Calamity. Her heart rate finally relaxes, and her eyes even droop for a moment. She has to repeatedly remind herself that she was safe. Maybe one day she would be able to believe that. The water started to get cool, and so she finally moved. It was nice to experience real peace for the first time maybe ever.

Zelda reaches for the bar of soap.

She scrubs away a century of dirt and grime, and it comes off with very little effort. The soap is soft, she appreciates that it came from the locals, and that Link had it at all. He isn’t half as put-together and tidy as he was when he served as her knight. His hair is longer, and it sticks out in all sorts of directions. He’s missing a chunk of cartilage from his right ear, and he’s more scarred, especially on his face. Zelda hopes that isn’t the result of carelessness, she couldn’t bear the thought of Link being put in danger even though he is the most capable person in all of Hyrule. But ever since he nearly died in her arms at Fort Hateno decades ago, she can’t stomach it. She watched in pain and disarray as he threw himself at every monster, every challenge, unfaltering and unafraid.

When she gets out of the bath, she starts to shiver, her body still not used to regulating its temperature again. Zelda quickly dries herself off and gets dressed. The clothes are even a little big on her, and more revealing in some places than she would have ever worn in her past life. She shrugs, and pulls the screen open.

Just as he had promised, he wasn’t in the house. She glanced around, taking in the surroundings even more, trying to get her bearings again. Link doesn’t have much, and what he does have looks mostly like junk. Zelda wasn’t sure how long she was going to be here, but her guess was a long time. It’s not like she has anywhere else to go anymore.

Knowing that Link won’t bother her until she goes looking for him, Zelda takes this as an opportunity to snoop. Not out of malice, but simply because she wants to know more about this new Link, and she’s too afraid to ask still. In her heart, he’s the same devoted and stoic Knight of few words, but she knows deep down that’s not who he is anymore.

In the corner of the room, there’s a work table, one with an old bow on it. She walks to it, examining the weapon. There’s a series of knots on the body of the bow, some Rito and some Gerudo. He seemed to be practicing on the bow, not using it for any combat. There’s a broken-up ruby on the desk, too. Zelda turns around, the front door is open, but she can’t see him. She continues her exploration.

The kitchen is lovely, nicer than anywhere else in the house. Clearly Link had spent some time fixing it up. There were dried herbs on the wall, and a few pieces of paper hanging up with recipes scribbled on them. His handwriting has not improved since she first knew him.

She notices all his different pairs of shoes by the door, he must store his extra clothes that he doesn’t use very often here. She’s never seen him in anything other than his Hylian boots, but here there were a pair of Shekiah sandals, Gerudo Voe slippers, and a pair of snow boots. His feet were big, she picked up one of the shoes, examining it. She noticed there was more wear and tear on the left shoes than the right, implying that he preferred his left side. She sets the shoe down and looks up the stairs to the loft. She peers out of the door again, making sure he wasn’t nearby. She didn’t want to invade his privacy, but couldn’t help her curiosity. Besides, Link has never been that private anyways.

Zelda creeps up the stairs, and when she gets to the top she nearly collapses. She does not have the strength for stairs yet. All there was in the loft was a single bed, it was a double size, though, and a dresser. On top of the dresser was a vase. It was full of flowers that Link had surely picked. All of them were beautiful still, and most importantly, all of them were silent princesses.

Zelda’s favorite flower. She swallows back a tear, walking to them. A few had wilted already, she wondered when he picked them. If he hadn’t been here in nearly a half a year, they couldn't have lasted that long. Or could they? She wasn’t sure. In her youth she never dared pick any because of how rare they were. Are they still so rare? Do they have prolonged longevity? Her mind started rising with questions, and her heart started racing out of excitement, the way science and asking questions used to make her feel. She picks them out of the vase, examining them in between her hands and even smelling one. The scent was diving, and she sighed as she exhaled.

She freezes after processing what the flowers were, what they could have stood for. Did he really collect all of these for her? She shakes the ridiculous idea out of her head. What a silly, schoolgirl thought to have. She sets the flowers back.

Zelda wastes no more time snooping, and instead decides to step outside. It was golden hour now, and the warm sun felt incredible on her skin. She took it in for a moment, savoring every single human moment she experiences because she never thought she would get them again.

She savors the feeling of the grass against her bare feet, wiggling her toes with joy. She can’t help the smile that grins across her face. Her skin tickles with it, the feeling still incredibly sensitive. She giggles a few times, and then turns around the house where the stable was, in search for her friend.

A shirtless, toned and sweaty Link tosses a bale of hay into a pile, lifting it high over his head with ease. His biceps flex as he tosses it, his skin slightly sun kissed from the work, and his hair somehow even more disheveled than before. He discarded his shirt on the fence, letting it hang out next to the undershirt he wore, and some chainmail. His chest glistens in the sun, sparkling from the light peppering of sweat over his pectorals. He’s scarred to high-heaven, old cuts and gashes healed with scar-tissue that stretched along his muscles.

Zelda’s face goes bright red when she sees him, immediately turning around to go back inside, but that’s when Link sees her.

“You’re finished!” He chimes cheerily, jogging over to her. She turns around slowly and painfully, her entire body tense because of the sight. Of course she had seen him shirtless, he was practically naked as the day he was born when he woke up in the Shrine of Resurrection, but she was watching him through lense that made it feel more detached, less real. And before the two of them were sealed away from the outside world, she had never even dreamed of seeing him in such a state. They were both too uptight with their titles. Oh how the times have changed. Even if she had seen him partially-nude, it was never this close, never this…detailed. She could smell him, the scent of hard work and horse-hair displayed in the most appealing aroma of a man she could think of. She makes a special effort to look at him directly in the eye, not daring to look anywhere else. The cherry on top? Link had no idea what he was doing to her.

“I-It was lovely,” She stutters over her words like a fool, She takes a shaken breath and then chooses to sign “Thank you.” She forces a smile, was he going to remember.

Link smiles wide and immediately signs back “You’re welcome, I’m happy you know how to sign, too!” And then he dropped it as fast as he picked it up, he used to rely on it so heavily but he doesn’t need it like he used to. He continues speaking verbally: “I’m glad! I’ll go drain the bath! Hudson and Bolson made this fancy contraption that dumps the gray water into a big ole bowl under the house!” He articulates with his hands, showing just how big the bowl really was. Zelda’s heart dropped a little, she was sad he didn’t remember that he was who taught her their special language. But at least he remembered.

She looks at him, pulled into his elaborate explanation of the water invention…his skin looked so soft, so inviting. “And then it drains into a monster camp down the hill! They drink it or something and everyone’s happy! It’s really quite clever, you know.” He smiles a wide, toothy grin. Zelda had never seen him get so excited about anything before the calamity. She was struggling not to fall apart out of embarrassment as he talked, though.

“Fascinating… I would like t-to see it.” She smiled politely, hoping she doesn’t look as foolish as she feels. “D-do you have a comb?” She asks.

He smiles and nods.

Inside of the house, it started to get dark. Link lit the few oil lamps and candles inside, but it was still dim.

Upstairs, Zelda groans frustratedly as she attempts to braid her hair. She looks at her reflection in the old mirror sitting on the dresser. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t seem to get the plaits to lay the way they’re supposed to. For whatever reason, she is incapable of being able to braid her hair in any way. She can’t seem to remember, and no matter how hard she tries, the hair just won’t knot correctly. Link heard her frustration, and out of both curiosity and a desire to protect her, he steps away from the dinner he prepares, and treads up the stairs carefully.

“Zel? Is everything okay?” He asks gently.

“I’m fine!” She sighs exasperatedly. Link stops in his tracks, not wanting to bother her, but still being concerned. She was clearly not fine. He observes the situation, and sees the problem. He walks towards her, not wanting to upset her further, but wanting to be helpful.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing to the comb he let her borrow (that he “borrowed” from Riju… she still doesn’t know he has it).

She sighs, “No.”

Link is a little taken back by that.

“I don’t need your help.” She swallows, looking at herself in the reflection, a frown plastered across her face.

“Okay.” He nods and turns to go. Accepting her wish. “Dinner is ready, come down whenever you feel like it.” He says over his shoulder before continuing. She watches him, frustrated with herself and embarrassed that she can’t do something so simple anymore. When he walks down the stairs and is out of sight, she lets go and silently drops a few tears. Only a few, and she quickly wipes them away. How pathetic she thinks to herself.

She stands up, taking the comb and walking downstairs.

He plates the food he made, whistling a distantly-familiar song as he did so. Zelda sits with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders at the table, watching him, now he has a shirt on, finally. It wasn’t his blue tunic, however, it was a soft, emerald green tunic. She didn’t recognize it. It was big on him, like it was supposed to have chainmail and an undershirt, too. Either that or Link was just too small for it.

“What is that song?” She asks.

“Hm?” Link turns around with the bowls in his hand, “Oh, I’m not sure. It came to me in a dream once.” He whistles it again, down middle up, down middle up. It was the song of forests, and fairy children, but neither of them knew that. “Here, it's vegetable cream soup. I know it’s not the most glamorous mela but I was able to get the ingredients in town while you bathed, and it's filling.” He sets it down in front of her and she looks down at it. He then sets his serving across from her, and sits. The two looked at each other, neither knowing what to say.

How do you save the world and rid it from the most demonic and ancient of evils one day, and then the very next you’re sitting across from another eating a vegetable soup?

Link digs in first, purposefully eating it with one of his two spoons instead of swallowing it down like a shot. Zelda was a princess, after all.

Zelda stirs it around a bit, but brings some up to her lips, sipping it. She hums, “That is incredible, Link.” She says, and takes a bigger bite. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“Your dad taught me a lot, actually.” He says, “Back when I first woke up and he wasn’t really your dad.” Link takes a few more bites, trying to satiate his hunger but not pig out in front of her. “And then I just picked skills and recipes up from stable to stable. I really enjoyed it, actually. It gave me a hobby that didn’t have to do with strategy and how to kill the most bokoblins with the fewest arrows.” He shrugs, “By the wayLin, I can kill six bokoblins with two arrows and an acorn. I’ll show you sometime.” He speaks nonchalantly.

Zelda laughs at it and he looks at her with a puzzled look.

“I’m serious!” He defends himself.

“I believe you!” She smiles, “That’s what makes it so funny! No one would stand a chance against you.”

“Awe was that a compliment?” He teases and she laughs more. He succeeds at his attempt of cheering her up. “Don’t start giving me compliments, Zel, you know how my ego handles them. That has not changed in the last hundred years.” He jokes with a lighthearted air. She smiles, the two feel warm, and comfortable inside.

Could you really truly feel happy after an event like what they went through yesterday?

They both believed so.

They believed it because of the other.

Link finishes and stands up, “If you don’t want my help, I understand. But I would be happy to braid your hair for you. It’s not a problem.” Link says in a voice so gentle fairies would come to him. “And if you don’t want me to, that’s okay too. My feelings aren’t hurt.” He turns to the kitchen, leaving the choice up to her.

She sits in contemplation for a moment.

“I’m so embarrassed that I can’t do it.” She sighs. “I used to before the calamity,” the word feels like cotton in her mouth. “But I tried and I just… can’t. My fingers don’t remember how to.” She pushes the emotion down.

“Hey that’s okay!” Link places his bowl in the basin, “I had to remember how to jump when I woke up.”

She smiles, “you’ve recovered so much. I’m glad.”

He turns, “You will, too.”

She wanted to believe that.

“You taught me how to sign”. She signs to him, “Do you not remember?”

Link frowns, “I don’t, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Zelda sighs, “It was our special thing, none of the other champions could sign. Not even-“ She catches herself and doesn’t finish the sign.

“Mipha?” Link spells out her name, there wasn’t a sign for it.

“Yes…” Zelda responds verbally, a little ashamed.

They look at each other, youthful eyes who have seen horrors connect with each other.

Zelda picks up the comb and holds it out for him. He smiles and moves behind her.

He takes the comb and runs it through her long, golden hair. “Your hair grew while you were sealed away.” He says as he holds the soft hair in his calloused hands.

“What?” She asks. “No it did not!”

“Whatever you say, but I think it did.” He hums, parting it and then setting the comb down before beginning the plaits. “What do you want?” He assumes her classic hairstyle of the braided crown, but she lifts her hand to stop him when he starts braiding by her ear.

“Just one braid, all of my hair in it, please.” She asks.

Link nods and lets go of the strands he had in his hands, moving to a different part of her head to restart. He’s always been a very talented braider, even before the calamity. He does it fast, and he is very gentle with her scalp as he does it. When he gets to the bottom, the hair tapering, he realizes he doesn’t have a hair tie to secure it with. Instead of making her hold it while he looks for one, or having to restart, he pulls the blue one out of his hair, and ties Zelda's hair with it. He drapes it over her shoulder and walks away to close the window by the kitchen, his back towards her.

Zelda notices the blue, and looks up to see his hair loose and messy.

Her heart does something because of that.

“I would like to go to bed, I think.” She says. “Would you like me to sleep down here?” She asks.

Link turns around, puzzled, “No?” He furrowed his eyebrows, “I want you to sleep upstairs.”

“I thought that’s where you slept?”

“Nope, I mean I do. But not now, not when you’re here.” He shakes his head. “I can sleep outside with Epona, I sleep better that way anyways.” He shrugs. She looks at him with a blank stare, “What! The bed is clean I assure you.” He chuckles, so charming it’s stupid.

“No that’s not it.” She sighs, “You would sleep with an animal instead of inside?”

“Yeah… Do you not want to sleep in the bed?” He cannot comprehend what she was implying.

“No! I mean yes! I mean no!” She drops her head into her hands, “I would like to sleep in the bed, yes.”

“Great! I’ll sleep outside.”

“Link!”

“What?”

“Just… sleep inside, it's safer.” She suggests.

“But-“ He pauses to think about her words, folding his arms. “I do not understand? I am happy to sleep outside.”

Zelda chuckles, exhausted with his thought process. At least that didn’t change. “Fine. But really, I do not want to take your bed from you.”

“Please do! I don’t need it.” He pushes.

“Okay, okay.” She goes to stand up, but when she does, she completely collapses to the ground, hitting the wood floor hard.

Link wastes not a single second before running to her, calling her name. He kneels on the ground next to her, rolling her onto her back, and supporting her head under his hand.

“Gods, are you alright?” He asks, but she isn’t answering. “Zelda!” He calls her name, and she doesn’t answer, so he calls louder and louder, placing both of his hands on her face to try and wake her.

Link swears, and he grabs her hand to check her pulse but he’s so shaken up that he can’t feel anything. He leans his malformed ear against her lips to see if she is breathing, but that was the ear that he lost his hearing in a year and a half ago when fighting Windblight Ganon. He places his hand on her chest to feel, not caring that he was touching her in a place that he never should, just thinking about her safety. It’s rising and falling but shallow, and he quickly must consider mouth-to-mouth, grabbing an elixir that was too far away, or yelling her name one more time.

He chooses the latter.

He yells at her again, the loudest this time, at a volume that he never used, not even in battle. With a gasp for air, She finally comes to, her eyes opening but hazy and confused.

“Oh my goddess, you’re awake.” He gasps, pulling her against his body, cradling her against his chest. It felt like she was out for an eternity. “Thank Hylia.” He holds her tight.

“Link?” She asks, her voice weak. He squeezes his eyes shut, keeping her close.

“Shit please don’t scare me like that again.” He says, his voice quivering. He pulls away from her and she looks up at him, her eyes welling with tears. “It’s okay, it’s okay I got you.” He holds her again, “You’re safe.”

You’re safe.

—

Chapter three

259 notes · View notes

cherr-22 · 3 months

Text

TNGDH 40

The carriage ran without rest.

The barren land of the North had more areas untouched by human hands than there were that were touched.

The road was barely wide enough for the carriage to pass. If it turned to the side a little, the wheels would get caught in the wild vines or bushes.

That was why the carriage moved rather slowly. And the ground was so uneven that if the wheel hit a rock, my butt literally lifted off from the seat.

“……Hup.”

Damn it, motion sickness.

I never felt motion sickness as Bae Soohyun. Is it because I’m just not suited for riding horses? How is it that I’m always feeling sick whenever I ride one?

I leaned against the wall with a pale face, then rolled my eyes towards the main sitting across from me.

Even when the ceiling and floor was shaking, Kyle was steadfastly processing documents. It was as if he was sitting in a separate space than me.

As if I was sitting on top of a moving tortoise while he was on the flat ground.

“……Do you not get motion sickness?”

I couldn’t contain my curiosity and asked. After going through a few more documents, he raised his head and looked at me.

“Not at all. Is it very bad?”

“……I feel like I’m dying.”

“You should sleep.”

“…….”

Of course, I wanted to sleep. I would rather faint and ask them to wake me up when we arrive at the palace. But I couldn’t do that. I didn’t have enough time left for ‘Summon’.

It would take three days to get from here to the palace, but I only had two hours each day for ‘Summon’. Not even half a day would pass before I end up turning into a hamster. I’ve been surviving until now by eating the store-bought cookies.

I rolled my eyes and glared at the system window next to me. 3 hours and 30 minutes before ‘Summon’ was canceled.

“No……. it’s alright.”

“There’s a village close by. I’ll wake you up when we arrive, so take a nap for now.”

“Ughhhh…….”

I wanted to be a bit more stubborn and stay up, but I didn’t have the stamina to do so.

I crossed my arms above the hamster house and leaned against them. I called the system quietly. Hey, come out.

[_:(´ཀ`」∠):_ ]

“…….”

……You also get motion sickness?

Is that even possible?

I stared at the emote for a moment with a puzzled expression on my face, then closed my eyes as the carriage started shaking once more.

‘Hey…… system……. sound out an alarm for me after two hours. Please…….’

At this rate, I’ll really die of motion sickness before I could even do anything.

After sending out a nodding emote, a 2 hour timer appeared mid-air. As the time ticked away, I took out the [Emergency Toffee Nut Candy] out of my inventory and put it in my mouth.

I didn’t know if anything would happen, but I wanted a temporary measure. I didn’t want Kyle breaking into the hamster house while I was asleep.

The hard and sweet candy melted in my mouth. I felt the sweetness of caramel syrup melting into syrup and went to sleep.

In my fading consciousness, I felt the wind blowing through my hair.

Hopefully, when I wake up, I’ll be at the village……

Beep beep beep beep―.

A familiar sound rang in my head.

As I continued to ignore the constant beeping noise, it began to change into different variations. After an intense vibration, I even heard an obnoxious voice saying “good morning”.

‘Let me sleep for 10 more minutes……. no, 5 minutes…….’

I frowned and turned my head the opposite direction of where the noise was coming from. I found a more comfortable position to sleep in. Yes. If I could sleep just a bit more like this…….

Suddenly, I felt a chill run down my spine.

I raised my head in shock. When I opened my eyes and looked straight ahead, I saw Kyle just a few centimeters away from my face.

“Wha…… wha, wha- what is it?”

My words came out like a broken radio.

I reflexively moved away and held onto the hamster house tighter. Kyle watched me quietly and opened his mouth to speak.

“You seemed to sleep uncomfortably, so I was going to put it down.”

His eyes landed on the hamster house I was holding.

Wrong. What’s uncomfortable isn’t the hamster house but the carriage.

“I’m quite alright. More importantly…… we stopped?”

The carriage was no longer shaking.

I looked out the window. People were out gathering themselves into groups of twos and threes.

“We thought it would be best to rest for a bit, so we stopped momentarily. There were quite a few servants besides you who got motion sickness.”

“It’s more incredible that you don’t get motion sickness…….”

“……If you’ve woken up, let’s go out.”

I sighed in relief and nodded. As I slowly pushed myself off while hugging onto the hamster house, Kyle reached out his hand again.

“You cannot!”

“…….”

Before he could say anything, I quickly got off the carriage.

Since we got further away from the castle, I felt an unfamiliar spring breeze blowing. Of course, when I looked around, it was still covered in snow.

‘More importantly…….’

The strange feeling I felt earlier seemed to be from the effect of the toffee nut candy.

Even if there was a ghost behind my back, I wouldn’t have felt this way. Aside from being surprised, it felt rather unpleasant. No wonder they gave 5 candies for 0.5 Miracle Points…… the remaining 4 shall remain unused forever.

“I guess I’ll have to start making a move.”

It was impossible to keep eating cookies and holding onto the hamster house.

At this rate, my Miracle Points would run out dry and I would turn into a hamster inside the carriage.

Then, all the trust I gained until now would shatter to pieces……

‘They would definitely think it’s magic.’

And would think I lied to them.

From Kyle’s point of view, it’s natural that he would think that way. A person turned into a hamster. What reason would there be besides magic? Actually, I don’t know if even magic could even transform people into hamsters.

On top of that, he met me as both Cashew and Shu. He could think that I was trying to use him. He wouldn’t believe me if I say that that’s not the case. After all, the evidence would all be right in front of his eyes.

I inspected my surroundings. I must find a way out of here and transform back into a hamster.

“The village is pretty close from here, right?”

“That’s right. It was half destroyed after being attacked by demonic beasts in the past, but it has been recovering well lately.”

“It must’ve been due to His Highness Kyle’s efforts.”

“Yes. He’s truly an amazing person.”

I perked my ears as I listened to their conversation.

A village. And one that’s been attacked by a demonic beast at that?

Just then, a brilliant idea popped into my mind. I walked up to them to join their conversation.

“It’s good to hear that the village recovered. I haven’t heard any news about it after losing all my family members.”

“Family? Is your hometown that village?”

“Yes. It’s been a while since I’ve left.”

“When you said you lost your family…….”

“It’s a long story. An unlucky accident. ……No one would be there to welcome me, but I still want to visit my old home. I want to greet my parents and walk around to relieve my memories.”

“Then…….”

“If you tell His Highness, he would definitely help you!”

“Definitely! You know how His Highness is!”

The eyes of the servants sparkled.

I glanced over to Kyle. He was talking with a knight and was too preoccupied to look over me.

The servants stuffed snacks into my mouth, stuffed them into my pockets, and stacked them on top of the hamster house. Holding them all, I got back into the carriage. In that time, Kyle must’ve finished speaking with the knight and got back onto the carriage too.

“What are all those?”

“Snacks. Would you like some?”

He sat across from me and only laughed.

He’s been like this once in a while. He would just look at me and laugh with no reason. And when I would turn towards him, our eyes would meet right away.

‘……Makes me feel a little embarrassed.’

I avoided eye contact and opened the package filled with biscuits. I offered a piece to Kyle.

Just when I thought Kyle would accept the biscuit, he leaned over and bit it. Use your hands will you? Grab it with your hands.

“Does it taste better to eat it from my hands?”

“Very.”

“…Eat well”

The carriage began to move again. The horses must’ve rested well, because the carriage ran fast despite the rough road.

Thus, I felt like dying once again.

Watching me grow pale, Kyle offered me his laps. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to tell if I’m still on Earth or the afterlife once we reach the village.

I wondered how much further we had to go.

When I started to think the ride would never end, the carriage began to slow down its pace.

“Ahhhhhhh…….”

I got down the carriage while making a zombie-like groan. In front of me was a village.

‘It’s a lot larger than I thought.’

I heard it was half destroyed due to the attack, but besides a few collapsed buildings, it looked not much different than the Blake estate. It was a little smaller, but it was still quite lively.

After confirming that all the servants and knights were present, they took a 10 minute break and said they will start moving again. It seemed the palace was still quite a long way off, so they wanted to hurry.

Upon hearing that, I raised my hand. Everyone’s gaze turned towards me.

“I will stay here for a bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is my hometown. Since I’m here, I want to look around.”

“I cannot allow that for whatever reasons.”

“Please don’t worry. I’ll follow after…….”

“He said it’s his hometown, Your Highness!”

One maid shouted out loud.

“That’s right. His family all passed away and somehow ended up in the Blake estate. Look how scrawny he is! It must’ve been tough to travel all the way to the estate.?”

“He doesn’t talk about himself, and yet he brought up about his hometown. It must’ve been on his mind a lot.”

Everyone began to speak up for me. Some said I was too pitiful. Few argued that I could catch up with a single horse and a map.

As long as you weren’t a combatant, it seemed that stopping by your hometown was somewhat acceptable.

Kyle looked reluctant but eventually nodded with a sigh.

“Shu.”

He held out a heavy-looking bag in front of me. I struggled to accept it with the hamster house in my hands, so he put it on top of the cage.

“With this amount of money, you could catch the best carriage in this village. Don’t hesitate to use it all.”

“……Thank you.”

“Will you…… really be alright alone?”

It was a voice filled with concern. I kept my mouth closed for a moment, then mumbled awkwardly while avoiding his gaze.

“I’m not a child. Since it’s been a while since I’ve been here, I want to see everyone. My family.��

“Alright.”

His held my cheek and the nape of my neck with his hand. The leather tickled my skin, and I slowly walked away as if I was feeling a little regretful.

I unconsciously opened my mouth. I didn’t want to make anymore promises, but it felt like I had to at the moment.

“I will follow after you soon.”

So, please go first and wait for me.

Kyle smiled. I turned my head around slightly and our eyes met again. It was as if he had never taken his eyes off me.

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