Idv - Blog Posts

New Beginnings (Ithaqua×Reader)

AN: Honestly not the proudest of this one, but I'm happy enough with it that I deem it as good as done. This is part of a collaboration of sorts with a few people from the Ithaqua discord server with a prompt focusing on a modern AU where Ithaqua has a healthy family relationship and takes you to prom. Hope you enjoy my take on this! On another note, I think I should probably try to make an introduction post and a masterlist. Problem is, I am simply too lazy and probably won't do it until like,,, 5 months later. Someone send help. Word count: 4.0k words Summary: Anxiety consumes him alive, to the point he's paralyzed in fear. Ithaqua doesn't want to lose you, but it seems no matter what he does, he will. Unbeknownst to him, you feel much the same. Senior year really does smack people in the face, doesn't it?

The Norwell twins are odd, though not in a way that is truly unusual for most siblings. The two are complete opposites, constantly bickering, yet also very close. Since they were separated at birth, many expected that there would be a rift between them. That didn't end up the case, for better or for worse.

Nathaniel was the heir to the notorious Norwell Conglomerate, treated like a prince since birth. Ithaqua was their long lost brother, raised by a kind woman in a rural area. No matter how anyone looked at it, Nathaniel would either have a sense of superiority or feel threatened by his brother returning. Ithaqua, in turn, would feel inferior to his brother who had been perfectly raised to be a leader.

Yet, none of those speculations and expectations became a reality.

Ithaqua quite literally denounced his right to be heir the moment he met his birth parents. He claimed he was perfectly content living life as he was, and didn't need anything the Norwell family may feel inclined to give him. While it was a bit blunt, it was honest. It put many people at ease, including his brother. Nathaniel immediately took a liking to his twin after that, which no one could really understand. When asked, he simply shrugged and said "I like straightforward people who know what they want."

Nathaniel is all sly words and cunning, charming in a way that is alluring like the gentle call of the depths of a ravine. He's used to the deceptive nature of business and people of the upper class. Honestly, he's so used to it that it sickens him. To finally meet the brother he'd always wanted to get to know, and find that he is everything that he'd ever want him to be? Well, Nathaniel couldn't be any more pleased.

Ithaqua is blunt and straightforward, but not unkind. He's someone who does what is right and is considerate of people, even if he doesn't seem like it. With a loving adoptive mother who taught him well, it was impossible for him to ever lust for more than he needed. All Ithaqua wants is a nice job and a house big enough for him, his mom, and maybe a caretaker for his mom when he isn't able to take care of her.

With how pure he is morally, it's expected that Ithaqua didn't particularly like his brother, or his whole biological family really, at first. Still, he gave them the benefit of the doubt and found that they weren't nearly as bad as he had thought they'd be. They were rather normal for a family, just... rich. He could ignore that if he squinted enough.

Not as much changed as he'd anticipated. It was merely requested that Ithaqua and his adoptive mother moved into the Norwell mansion, and that Ithaqua went to the same high school as his brother. It wasn't strictly required, and the Norwell's claimed that regardless of their choice, they'd respect it and send the two money to take care of themselves. 

They agreed to live with the Norwell's in the end.

Two years had passed since then, and it was shocking to see how the twins acted now. Nathaniel would lightly poke fun at Ithaqua, and he in turn would poke back. The two had their differences, but ultimately ended up quite good friends. It was almost surreal to some students to watch the proud, arrogant heir suddenly become a teasing older brother of sorts. It made him feel less unreachable, more human. 

With senior year rapidly coming to an end, many were either panicking or celebrating. Soon, they'd be going to college, trade school, or the like, becoming "real adults" and having more freedom than they'd know what to do with. It was nerve-wracking, it was exhilarating. 

With the desire to have no regrets, many asked Nathaniel to prom. He rejected everyone, practically the whole school, while clinging to Ithaqua and claiming he wouldn't go with anyone in fear that his poor little brother would be lonely. 

If Ithaqua's deadpan expression didn't show how much of a lie that was, Nathaniel's shit eating grin sure did.

The truth of the matter was, Nathaniel couldn't go with anyone in fear of either tainting their family reputation or giving someone false hope of a relationship he had no interest in. Even if he was sly, cunning, or as other people put it, a bastard, he still had his morals. Needlessly breaking hearts or hurting his family was not something he wanted to do. Ithaqua knew this, which was why he let his brother use him as an excuse. Not a good excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. 

"Ah, I wish someone would go with my poor, unfortunate brother. So lonely, with zero friends and a personality that repels literally everyone! I sincerely wish my brother could have a partner, but alas, he has no rizz." Nathaniel dramatically proclaimed, draping himself over his twin. Ithaqua looked like he had half the mind to push him off, and after a moment of thought, he did. The older teen yelped, barely stabilizing himself before he could fall. "Hey! That was mean."

While the childish actions of his brother were mildly annoying, Ithaqua was too preoccupied to truly get mad at him. After all, he had more important matters to attend to. Specifically, thinking about how to ask you out to prom.

You were Ithaqua's first friend when he transferred into Oletus High School. With most either trying to butter him up or ignoring him, he thought he wouldn't be able to make a friend at all. Then you came, in all your fumbling glory.

You were in all of his classes, sometimes sitting right besides him. The class he first really noticed you in was drama. Ithaqua can't help but laugh remembering how you completely butchered your role as Mercutio. 

Everyone was given a role from Romeo and Juliet at random, Ithaqua being Romeo and you being Mercutio. Technically, you could say anything as the whole purpose of this project was to modernize the script. It was entertaining, to say the least, to give teenagers complete free reign over a play that was pretty much made with the memes of the time in mind.

"Romeo, my guy, you were in love with Rosaline literally a day ago. Now, you're saying you love this- this Juliet you just met. I know we're hormonal teenagers but really?"

"She's attractive though."

"Yeah, well you're attractive too and you don't see me simping over you all the time."

"You simp over me half the time?"

"..."

"Mercurio?"

"Bye."

Honestly, most of the improved scenes were pure gold, but Ithaqua only remembered the ones with you. After all, to him, those were the funniest ones. It was what got him to reach out and interact with you.

He was pleasantly surprised to see you had no clue who the Norwell's were. Ithaqua expected you to know who he was, or who Nathaniel was at least, but you did not know and did not care. It was a miracle considering the Norwell Conglomerate was in charge of a lot of major brands, but he wasn't going to complain.

You treated him normally, making lighthearted jabs at him, casually joking with him, and offering him comfort when school and life became too much. In a new environment where most didn't want to interact with him for good reasons, you were like a shining beacon of light.

Being able to be himself without any judgment was nice. It was why he treasured your friendship more than anything else. Sure, many can claim his life is overall better than before, but you were the one who truly made it that way. Without you, Ithaqua is sure he would've grown to hate it all.

It's why he hesitated asking you to prom at all. It's not necessarily all that suggestive, perhaps, but prom is a place many go to with their romantic interests. There's an inherent sense of intimacy in asking someone to go with you. So, for Ithaqua to ask you to prom, it'd be tantamount to confessing his feelings without really doing so.

He couldn't bring himself to do that considering he didn't know if you returned his feelings. What if you didn't like him back? What if you stopped being friends with him? Would your friendship become more and more strained until your bond became nothing more than a fleeting memory?

Ithaqua, for all his honesty and straightforward nature, was truly not all that bold. But he could at least admit one thing.

He was scared.

He was scared of losing you.

Perhaps he's being a bit dramatic- asking someone to prom isn't always something romantic. But when it concerns you, Ithaqua's brain simply stops working. He can't help but fret over everything, drowning in a lake of anxiety that he created.

"Just ask them. Worst case scenario, they realize you like them, but your feelings aren't returned. After that, you'll be heartbroken, but at the very least you won't experience the awkwardness of being around your crush who doesn't reciprocate your feelings. We'll be graduating in a few weeks, so is there really anything to lose? Do you have any time for regrets?"

Sometimes, Ithaqua wanted to throw his brother out the window. He's being completely logical, yes, but matters of the heart aren't so simple. Ithaqua has been swallowing his feelings for so long because he didn't want you to leave his life. Sure, you guys may never meet again after high school, or maybe you will, but he wanted the last of his memories with you to be happy regardless. Ones he will yearn for, smile over, laugh with melancholy at, not cry and despair over. 

Nathaniel shook his head as he watched his younger brother scowl at him, still deep in thought. It was painfully obvious to him that you returned Ithaqua's feelings, but neither of you were willing to try and confess. At this point, he should just do it for you guys!

...or so he feels, but he knows this is something for Ithaqua to deal with. Nathaniel wants to protect Ithaqua and make sure he's happy, but he can't do that for his whole life. A helicopter parent (brother?) is not what Ithaqua needs, so he remains silent.

Above all else, Ithaqua's feelings on this matter, along with yours, matter the most. Whether he gains the courage to ask you or not is up to him, not Nathaniel. It was honestly torturous to watch, but this is not something he should overly involve himself in. Nathaniel knew better than anyone else what it felt like to have your privacy violated, and he'd never want to subject either of you through such a thing.

Nathaniel can only pray that whatever happens, he gets a chance to shove Ithaqua into you so you'll finally kiss and stop going around each other in circles.

-

Days turned into weeks, each moment passing by faster and faster until finally, it was the day for prom. Ithaqua failed to muster up the courage to ask you to go with him.

It wasn't that big a deal, sure, since you were planning on going with him and his brother anyway. You three were a trio, a close-knit friend group, so it wasn't weird by any means. Still, he'd at least wanted to try. It was pathetic that he'd simply given up before he even could.

Regardless, what's done was done. Ithaqua had done nothing, so he'd face the consequences that came with that. At the least, he could be glad he'd be going with you.

...and his brother.

Pulling up to the venue, Ithaqua maintained a frosty exterior. He picked at the smooth fabric of his vest, muttering complaints as he threw his suit jacket over his shoulder. Nathaniel smiled brightly as he whistled, dragging his brother into the building.

Ithaqua was dressed in a white dress shirt, black vest, and blue trousers. Though his jacket was supposed to be worn and matching with his pants, he'd all but hissed at Nathaniel that he'd rather die than wear it properly. It wasn't like he hated the jacket, but it was too stuffy and thick considering the weather. Even with his hair pulled into a ponytail, his neck was getting sweaty just standing in the sun.

Nathaniel didn't seem to have that problem, wearing a crimson red suit in its entirety and not seeming bothered in the least. Ithaqua wondered if it was because he'd lived in the city for so long, or was just used to wearing stuffy clothes for business meetings. Probably both.

"C'mon Itha, you should wear the jacket once we get inside! They have air conditioning so it won't be that bad." Nathaniel whined, pressing the button to the 5th floor in the elevator. Ithaqua huffed, rolling his eyes as he scrolled through his phone quickly.

"I'd really rather not. Besides, you shouldn't worry about how I look considering the fact that you look like a red envelope given during Chinese New Year." Ithaqua responded, shoving his phone into his pocket as the elevator doors opened.

"Hey! I do not! I'm not wearing gold!" Nathaniel exclaimed, pouting as he followed Ithaqua. He was pretty much ignored, however, as Ithaqua was too busy checking in with the staff before entering the ballroom.

The ballroom was considerably large, enough for the hundred or so teens that were bound to show up. With the theme of "new beginnings," Ithaqua had expected weird decorations or the sort. (Seriously, why did the school choose such a vague theme?) Regardless, the venue was rather nicely decorated with butterflies and flowers.

"Well, I guess that works." Ithaqua muttered before turning around. He sighed, watching as his brother completely ditched him for his other friends. Unsurprised, yet nonetheless disappointed, he shook his head. Looking around, Ithaqua chose to sit at the table farthest from the dance floor. Being close to the overwhelming music and mass of bodies that would follow it later on would be undesirable.

In the next few minutes, the room filled quite quickly. The chatter of friends and constant movement was followed by colorful fabrics and extravagant outfits, the wearers sometimes needing assistance walking due to that. Although his eyes continuously scored over the crowd, Ithaqua couldn't find you.

Frustrated, he stood up to search for you. Pushing past people while apologizing the whole time, Ithaqua nearly tripped as he tried to step over Vera's dress. Stumbling, he bumped into someone. He quickly grasped their shoulders to prevent either of them from falling, stabilizing both of them.

"Ah! Sorry!"

He blinked in surprise as he finally saw who he bumped into. There, with the lights of the hallway framing their figure like dew hugging the petals of a flower, was you. With the dim lights of the ballroom, you seemingly glowed. His hold on your shoulders tightened as his breath hitched, face flushing as his heart beat out of his chest.

You looked like what love would be if it became a person. The incarnation of perfection, everything he could want and more, yet something he could only have in a dream. Ithaqua could only wonder if this is what Persephone felt like when she first saw pomegranates. A temptation like no other, beckoning with a siren's call to ensnare one's heart and mind. Divine, yet the sure reason for the descent of an angel into hell. 

Well, he was never an angel in the first place, Ithaqua thought. But if he was, and it was for you, he'd gladly scrape his knees falling from grace. 

You weren't just attractive, no, in this moment, you looked absolutely ethereal.

"Ithaqua? Are you alright?" You asked, concern clear upon your face. He cleared his throat awkwardly, removing his hands from your shoulders and stepping back. Quickly recovering, he nodded. Still, his eyes were stuck to you, completely enamored.

"Yeah, perfectly fine. Just, er, surprised. You look, you look good." He stuttered. You looked like you were going to ask questions, so Ithaqua dragged you to the table he'd claimed for the three of you. He pulled out a seat for you before sitting in his own, desperately trying to prevent himself from looking at you.

It was completely and utterly unfair that you, who already was the definition of perfection, just became even more... well, perfect. He was left to scramble for composure while you didn't even look vaguely affected by his appearance. To be fair, he was just wearing a plain old suit, but still.

Ithaqua didn't know if he'd be able to survive the night, and he couldn't decide if this was heaven or hell with how things were going.

-

You didn't understand why Ithaqua was avoiding looking at you, but it stung quite a bit. Admittedly, you'd hoped dressing up would, you know, do the opposite, but that didn't seem to be the case. Maybe he didn't like the colors? Or maybe he thought you looked ugly but didn't want to say it?

Regardless, your mood was worse than before, though you tried to remain cheerful. No matter what, today had to be the day. You had to confess your feelings to Ithaqua once and for all, or else you'd never do it.

Truth be told, you had originally intended to ask him to prom before, but you chickened out. You felt like you were going to die every time you tried, so you ran away each time with the excuse of doing something else. 

You're positive Nathaniel laughed at you every time, that traitor.

With senior year coming to an end, you were left with a sense of dread as the future came rushing at you. Jobs, taxes, education, whatever, you were honestly terrified to face it all. Sure, you'd have people to help you when you stumble, but it's so hard to ask for it. In the first place, this fear isn't necessarily the fear of the future, but the fear of the unknown.

You didn't want to face anything, but you knew you had to. Still, you tried to ignore it.

However, one thing you had to acknowledge was that with the end of your high school year, you'd probably not be able to meet Ithaqua quite as much. You wouldn't be able to go to the arcade with him, laugh as he failed to get the plushie he wanted for the millionth time, or walk in the park while eating ice cream with him.

It left you feeling hollow and cold, the thought of losing him to time and distance devastating. He'd surely be able to make friends with his new classmates, live a good life, and even get a partner. He wouldn't need you.

The thought of him forgetting you made you want to cry. 

You know he isn't the sort to abandon people, and surely he'd never do that to you, but time changes people. It brings new winds, ending things and creating new beginnings. You couldn't help but feel like you'd be left behind as his past, just that one friend he had in high school.

You didn't want this friendship of yours to end, or at the very least, for you to have never admitted you'd felt more for him than that.

He held you when you cried, laughed at you when you fell, picked you up when you needed help, and remained a constant comfort by your side. It was impossible not to fall in love with him.

You never confessed since you always felt like your love would never be returned. Like Mercutio who loved his best friend, who went as far as to die for him, yet would never be able to be with him, a tragic romance of his own.

At the least, you wanted to confess your feelings instead of leaving them unsaid forever. If fate decided to bring him to you, it'll be Ithaqua himself who will decide if he'll bend destiny to his will to stay by your side.

So, when you heard the gentle notes of a slow song start, you took Ithaqua to the dance floor. He seemed surprised, but allowed it as you held his hands. With careful steps, the two of you moved along with the crowd, swaying to the music.

He held you close so you didn't get pulled away, firm yet gentle in his touch. You wanted to tell him now, but with how quiet things were, excluding the music playing in the background, it felt awkward to do so. Another problem was that with Ithaqua so close, you could barely think straight.

By the end of the song, you hadn't accomplished your goal, though you felt considerably better than before. Nervous and shaky, yes, but happier.

You clasped your hands together to try and get them to stop shaking, though it didn't work too well. You purse your lips in displeasure, a frown quickly forming.

"Let's go out to the balcony. It's too stuffy here."

You stared at Ithaqua for a moment before immediately taking his outstretched hand. It was, as one would expect, getting quite stifling with so many people in one room. It didn't help that the floor shook whenever the DJ played a popular song as the crowd jumped up and down. Which was basically 95% of the time.

Stepping out onto the balcony, you take a deep breath. The calm evening wind cools you off considerably, bringing you back to life. Ithaqua seems more at ease, too. You can't help but smile softly as you lean on the ledge, staring at him. 

Ithaqua's eyes are closed as he faces the sky, embracing the fresh air and the freedom of the outdoors. The moon seems to shine on him especially, making him look ethereal. His smile seems gentler, as though he were truly at peace now.

Your heart hammers against your chest as you take another deep breath in, closing your eyes as you try to gather all the courage you can. It all goes down the drain, however, when he opens his eyes.

With him smiling softly, his eyes half-lidded and illuminated by the moonlight, Ithaqua is unfairly attractive, stealing the breath you'd only just taken. You're sure that if anyone were to show you what you looked like right now, you'd look completely love struck.

"I love you."

You can't tell who said it first, but both of you said it for sure. It has your eyes widening in surprise, watching as he does the same. At that moment, it hits you that this whole time, the two of you have been pining for the other.

No wonder Nathaniel was laughing at you.

Regardless, as you stare at each other, finally understanding the other completely, the two of you draw closer. Softly, sweetly, your lips meet, and you know, then and there, that everything will be alright. Even if the inescapable future is marching towards you, you'll have Ithaqua by your side.

That's all you need.

So, you kiss goodbye what feels like the last of your youth, ready to greet the new beginnings of another chapter of your life. After all, it can't be that bad when it also is the start of your new relationship.

-

BONUS SCENE:

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the new voice, whipping around to see Nathaniel with a smug smile. Ithaqua glares at him, a look of pure exasperation and annoyance upon his face. However, the two of you could see the underlying notes of embarrassment as well, his ears tinged a light pink.

“Did you really come out here to tell the equivalent of “I told you so,” Nathaniel?”

“No, actually. I came here to say I am sooooo telling mom and dad.”

“...”

“...so what flowers should I bring to his grave?”

“Don’t even bother, I’m dumping his body into the river.”

“Oh come on I wasn’t being seriou- ITHA WHA- STOP- I’M SORRY! OW!”

“GET BACK HERE NATHANIEL BABEL NORWELL!”

“Ah good old brotherly love!”

“HELP ME!”

Of Vices and Virtues (Morningstar!Ithaqua×Reader)

AN: In which I go insane and finally succumb to the urge to write an unhealthy relationship instead of a nice, safe, and sane one. Also, to the people who were waiting for this fic, I am so sorry for the wait. I kept on forgetting it existed and also kept doubting myself since this is pretty different from what I usually do. Hope you enjoy it, even if it isn't the best! Word count: 2.7k words TW: Blood, violence, general insanity, and unhealthy relationships. Summary: You've always seen things others couldn't. When you met him, you were enamored by his unique nature. Perhaps you should have taken it as a warning. Perhaps, you should have ran. Instead, you drew closer.

It all started years ago when things were simpler. You were a child, and so was he. He was someone who bore the face of the future king, the Lord of Babel, the sun of the kingdom. You? You were just a simple peasant. No one noteworthy, not in appearance, personality, or skill. How could you be? You were a child.

Yet, when your paths crossed, it immediately changed you two. Your futures, your destinies which never should have merged, crashed together. The moment your eyes met his, it was over. You could never be normal again. After all, how could a mortal stay sane in the presence of a God?

He was your beginning, and surely he would be your end.

-

The lady who lived in the forest was odd, but kind. She would give you and your family medicine, never asking for anything in return. You didn't think that was very fair, so you gave her flowers. The prettiest ones you could find in the wild, hidden within the crevices of gnarled roots and heavy bushes.

You liked her quite well, which your parents found surprising. You never seemed to like most adults. They all brushed it off as shyness, laughing heartily as you scampered away.

It wasn't quite that, though.

The way you gazed at people with distrust was never on unfounded grounds. Children, for however random and silly adults believe them to be, are far too perceptive for their own goods.

You've always seen things others couldn't see. You knew not to tell, especially when the curling shadows at those peoples feet hissed and snarled silently. It was a warning, seething quietly around the liars with masks. You learned quickly that they were not people to be trusted.

The problem was, most adults held such secrets with them. Their perfect disguises of the kind neighbor and good samaritan were nothing before your eyes. Their performances of being righteous and pure sickened you. It churned your guts and set alight a blaze of fury inside you that you didn't understand.

You couldn't stand it, so you chose to run.

Thankfully, with her, it was never like that. She had the aura of what you think angels would have. It was warm, gentle, and bright, like a bonfire on a cold winter night. It made you feel comfortable, it made you feel safe. Honestly, you sometimes wished she were your mother so you could bask in her presence forever.

Of course, that is not the case, and you like your parents well. They had no roaring shadows, just a light brush of soothing sunlight. It was sweet and inoffensive, just a whisper of heat and kind words. That, too, you appreciated.

It was why you listened to them well, doing your best to be a good child for them. When they asked you for help, you were always up to the challenge. You'd smile brightly, determination glistening within your eyes and your heart set on fulfilling your mission.

Today was one such day, leading you to a cottage in the woods. Your parents requested that you gave the lady of the forest a package. The task felt more like a blessing than a burden. You got to help your parents and see one of your favorite people in the world! How could you not be happy?

Standing before the worn alder door, you carefully shift your bag as you knock. You rock back and forth, humming cheerfully as you wait for her to answer. The sounds of shuffling footsteps can be heard behind the door, making you smile.

When it opens, your smile slips as you stare blankly. Before your eyes stands not your favorite person in the world, but a child. He has wispy, light blond hair, so light it's white. His eyes are like charcoal, both dark and burning as he stares holes into you. It's half a glare and half a stare, more of a glare, really.

For a few moments, you're stunned. Not really at the fact that the lady had a child you never knew, but at the darkness and light that surround him in equal parts.

Children never had such prominent representations of good or evil on them, having been born with a neutral conscience. They were surrounded by barely flickering echoes of right and wrong, never quite lasting.

Yet, here he was, a child with both virtue and vice wrapped tightly around him. It intrigues you, beckoning you forward like a siren's call.

Before you know it, you've taken his face in your hands and tilted it to look closer. At what, you're not quite sure. All you do is drink in his features like a man starved, staring at him with such intensity you'd feel embarrassed if you were clear headed.

You expect him to fight back once you realize what you've done, but all he does is stare back with equal intensity, challenging you. It makes you smile, an odd feeling of pride and a desire to crush that will of his coming from the depths of your heart. It makes you pause in surprise, letting go of his face and stepping back.

"I'm sorry." You say, fiddling with the straps of your bag as you look away. It was rather unlike you to act this way, or to have such a violent thought. You shook your head to clear them of such things.

"Why are you here?" He asks harshly, ignoring your apology. You accept that considering you were quite rude to him.

"I'm here to deliver a package to the nice lady. Is she home?" You look over his shoulder for any hint of her. He blocks your view, his glare intensifying. He looks like he's about to say no when a familiar voice cuts him off.

"Ah! You shouldn't be here!"

You can't tell if she's referring to you or him. In a few minutes, she's taken you inside the house and given you snacks. The boy pouts as the lady of the forest scolds him, warning him not to open the door to strangers.

You chew on a cookie as you continue to stare at the warped shapes of his soul shift around him. It's warmer now, brighter. It's sentient and alive, happily glowing in the presence of the nice lady. You can't blame him, you like her a lot too.

At the same time, you can't help but wonder what it'll take for his shadows to devour the light.

You calmly give the lady the package and thank her for the snacks, brushing crumbs off your hands. She pats you, causing you to smile as you relish in the gentle touch. She tells you to come again, to play with her son. You don't think he'd like to, but you're willing to try.

With a wave and a smile, you're off. You ignore the no longer hostile stare that follows you out.

-

Seeing as you're no liar, you meet him again. You keep your promise to visit, and thus a tender friendship begins. The boy is surprisingly nice at times. He's simultaneously so ordinary, yet unusual.

He smiles when you trip, but he always helps you up. He hides your things, but always ends up telling you where they are. He says rather mean things, but his actions never match his words.

He's weird, but you like him. Unlike the others your age, he's quite interesting. The shared soft spot you both have for his mother certainly helps, and before you know it, you're friends.

"Why don't you ever leave the forest?" You ask one day, pulling weeds out of the garden. His mother's garden was in need of some help, so you decided to work on it with the boy. He diligently works, even though he hates the sunlight.

"Mother says I shouldn't be seen by others. You're okay, though." You accept the answer easily. You figured that was the case, anyway.

After the official debut of the future king, a prince around your age, you realized a lot more things than you thought you would. You're sure his mother knows you know, but neither of you mention it. For you, it's none of your business. For her, it's a secret she must take to her grave.

You're quite good at keeping secrets. You're sure she knows that, too. You also know her secrets will one day consume her whole, however. They always do.

You wonder how he'll react that day.

-

Ever since you met the lady of the forest, red became your favorite color. It's the color of her hair, of the ladybugs in her garden, and of the tiles on your house's roof. It's a sweet color, one of pure and good memories.

That changes the day you turn of age.

You watch in horror as she's brought before a cheering crowd, a spectacle for people to watch. He's next to you, his face covered and a cloak hiding his hair. His eyes shake as he stares at the cruel stage, the start of a scene he'd never want to see showing right before his eyes.

Her chains jingle like cruel church bells, hair a tangled mess as she's dragged across the crude boards of the stage. Splinters stab at her feet, fresh wounds and old ones bleeding red as she's roughly slammed into a wooden contraption. She gasps in pain as they lock it in place, the final Wham! of the wood marking the end of her judgment.

You both look on in stunned shock as the blade whistles down at the call of a man- a man who shares the same face as him. Time seems to slow as her eyes meet yours, silently, desperately, asking for help. Help you cannot give. Help you wish you could give.

Your heart screams as it is forced to face how powerless you are. It squeezes and squeezes as if someone were clutching it in their hand, hoping to inflict as much pain on you as possible while you are hopelessly, miserably left alive despite it.

The man's shadow laughs as the guillotine cuts off her life, destroying the warmth of her soul and putting it out. Like a lit candle in the wind, she's extinguished. She's gone.

The once comforting red of her hair is tainted by the ruthless sight of her blood painting the stage.

You vaguely think you hear something shatter, perhaps something inside of you or somewhere around you. You turn to look at him, your hands trembling, when you see it.

It seems to destroy light itself, yet hold it all the same. A black hole that displaces the refraction of light, like darkness that shines bright, it breaks free from the chains of what is perhaps the last of his humanity.

Perhaps it's the last of his sanity.

Glancing down at your own shadow, you laugh quietly as tears slip down your face. It's carried away by the cheers of the crowd and the deafening applause, going unheard. An unnatural smile stretches your face as you turn your head up to the sky.

If his darkness has light, your light holds darkness. With it, you'd both destroy everything that dared make you this way.

-

"I'll kill them, I'll kill them, I'll kill them." He's trembling in your arms, his body barely able to contain all his emotions. His rage, his sorrow, his pain, his tears, everything, it seems to pour out of him. You can only rub your hand comfortingly in circles on his back, eyes blank as you stare lifelessly at the wall.

He was suppressing himself as his feelings lashed out. You, however, were eerily empty.

You felt nothing, yet everything. It was like all your emotions had been tossed away, as though they'd never been there before. In its place, a cold, cruel rationality took over your mind. It plotted, it schemed, and it had only one goal.

To destroy.

"You will." You tell him. "We will."

It's a promise, and you don't break promises.

-

The sound of rumbling stones greets you in a familiar cacophony of noise. You revel in it, watching the statue's face fall and crumble. He stands before you now, so different from the sweet boy he was back then. That's partially your fault, admittedly.

You held him that day, when the world had fallen apart. You'd promised him justice, you promised him peace. You promised him the world and everything in it, because that was what he deserved. He deserved it so he could ruin it, since really, did anything matter anymore? When she was gone, she died, you'd never see her alive, you couldn't understand why-

You sighed, shivering as a cold breeze blew through the area. It doesn't matter now. You'd found your peace. You'd gotten your revenge.

Turning your gaze to the figure before the desecrated statue, you smile widely. He does the same, spreading out his arms as he laughs maniacally. He, too, had gained his vengeance.

"The tower shall fall, and new lies will be treated as the word of god. The morning star is the true king!" He sweeps the air in front of him, hand outstretched to you. You step forward, placing a hand in his. His grin seems to grow wider at that, his grip becoming more firm as he pulls you into his arms.

"And you, my evening dawn, will stand by my side. We'll rule the greedy, the disloyal, and the unworthy. The dogs in crowns will remain at our feet, and it will not matter who stands before us." He laughs as he bites your neck, hard enough to draw blood. You only laugh in return, the pain as sweet as the taste of power.

His hair, now pure white like the feathers on a dove, glows in the brilliant light of the sun. His eyes, once a beautifully deep onyx, are like translucent opal. The red you once grew to hate, tainted by blood, is made again your favorite color. It drapes him from head to toe in majesty, deeming him a true god amongst men.

He pulls you up into a kiss, his lips tasting of your blood and dust. The taste of your own blood upon your tongue makes you laugh. Anything is sweet when it comes from him, from his lips, even the underlying tastes of iron and danger, the possessive curling of his claws.

When you finally draw away from each other, your faces are flushed. You both pant lightly, giggling like school children as you hold each other close. His hold speaks of love, of desire, of a feeling so encapsulating, so damning, he'd rather kill you than let you leave his side.

His shadow says so much more.

It curls around your own, protecting it, stealing it, tugging and holding it like it wants to merge with yours. The darkness tries to devour your light, but it's only a pointless cycle where one cannot destroy the other. They're two sides of the same coin, cultivated into a writhing mass of what you're sure anyone else would claim to be insanity.

You hum in joy, resting your forehead against his chest. He needs you as desperately as you need him. He'll never leave you, and you could never leave him. No one could ever take you away from each other.

"You're all I have." He tenderly murmurs, dragging a claw down your spine. You shiver as you look up at him, smiling. "And I am all you have."

"I love you. Only two things will ever have me, and it'll be you and death." You respond, meaning every word. He knows as well as you do that you mean it, and he rewards you with another kiss. It's sweeter than the last, an addicting pull that makes you yearn for more. More and more and more, until you suffocate.

You'll treasure him for the rest of your life. He's your precious partner, isn't he? You should hold him close and treat him right. Isn't that what they taught you?

You smile, something akin to a nightmare, as you turn. He stands by your side as you saunter over to the gilded cage, the traitors shaking within.

"What do you think, mother, father?"

He was your beginning, and he will be your end.

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Tag List

@ithaquakisser, @xiaosmary

Zephyr (Ithaqua×Reader)

AN: I typically don't write in the perspective of the reader since it makes it harder to see them as yourself, but I wanted to experiment a bit. I figured it'd be a fun little writing exercise and a way to explore parts of the story that went unseen in "Apricity." So, here is the result of a few hours and mind numbing amounts of self doubt. Also, heads up, reader is a lot more aggressive here than I intended them to be lol Word count: 2.9k words Summary: You love him, but you do so silently. You know he isn't ready yet, so you wait. You'll wait as long as he needs you too. However, even you have your limits.

Many question your relationship with Ithaqua. It's no surprise considering that most survivors and hunters don't get along. Ithaqua is a particularly prickly person at times, but he's kind. If you could describe him in one word, it would be a simple one.

"Zephyr."

Ithaqua has always been like the wind he wields: uncontrollable and unpredictable. A furious tempest in the blink of an eye, but soothed just as quickly with the lightest touch. Despite this, he, for you, has always tried to be good. He raises you from the ground when you feel down, gently pats you to cheer you up, and remains by your side when you need him most. Like a soft breeze at the first call of spring, he's there to remind you of the beautiful future to come.

It's hard not to love him when he's so kind. For all his faults, Ithaqua has never been as bad a person as he'd always feel he was. You know he'll never believe you if you told him so, but you know as well as you know the sky is blue that Ithaqua is good and that he’s your friend. For now, you’re content with that.

It's a bit nostalgic, though, to think of how everything started. You weren't always so close, after all.

The first time you actually spoke to him was in a match. You had been ready to leave through the exit gate when the tell tale sound of a gunshot rang throughout the map. It was particularly loud near you, leaving you a bit stunned. Martha ran past you while you stood in a daze. Cautiously, you glanced behind you, only to feel your heart stop.

You didn't know why you did it- your feet seemed to have moved on their own.

On the floor lay pieces of a familiar white mask, an unsalvageable mess. Not far off, curled up into a ball and covering his face, was Ithaqua. He was frantic, almost clawing at himself in desperation as he muttered things you couldn't understand. What you did know, however, was that his mask was shattered and he was panicking.

Hesitant, you gazed at him for a moment.

The Nightwatch was a hunter. He'd attempted to kill you and your friends this entire match, and in every match before. He was not someone who you were friends with, nor necessarily fond of, either.

However.

The hunters were victims in the manor too. Michiko was unjustly killed, then brought back to life, only to have to live for the sake of harming others. Some hunters enjoyed this lifestyle, but most didn't.

Ithaqua always killed with mercy, never bleeding anyone out and always giving the last survivor the dungeon. However ruthless he could be, Ithaqua still held kindness in the way he conducted himself.

Having made up your mind, you took off your sweater and walked up to Ithaqua. You bit your lip in worry as you looked at his claws. With the way things were looking, he was most certainly going to hurt himself.

Using the courage you'd scraped together, you draped your sweater over Ithaqua and quickly grasped his hands. You expected him to startle, to panic more and struggle against you. Instead, he stilled.

Your heart was beating out of your chest from both the artificially induced fear from the game and your own anxiety. Still, you tried to slow your breathing to let him follow the pattern and calm down. It seemed to work as in a few minutes, Ithaqua was more at ease.

He slowly moved his hands so they were intertwined with yours. You were surprised, but allowed it. Perhaps he needed to be grounded. You weren't going to complain when his hand felt perfect with yours.

It was silent, everyone else having escaped while you remained with Ithaqua. It was a bit awkward, really, but you weren't going to leave him alone. You had always been rather bad at leaving people be, especially when they were in need of assistance.

"Thank you."

It was uttered softly, so much so you almost missed it. You hummed in response as you gently moved away from him. His hands reached out, as though he wanted to keep your hands within his grasp, before hesitating.

You picked up as many pieces of his mask as you could, carefully collecting them. Once you'd gotten a fair amount, you placed the shards in his hands before standing up. As you moved to leave, you felt a tug on your sleeve, prompting you to turn around.

"Please stay." He whispers, and you find yourself unable to say no. His face is covered, but you can practically see the pleading look in his eyes. So, you stay, allowing him to hold your hand again.

The match lasted a long time, just the two of you existing in peace. It felt like an eternity and a moment, the world having stopped to allow Ithaqua solace.

By the end of it, Ithaqua tenderly held your hand and guided you back to the gate. He looked a bit ridiculous with your sweater covering his face, but you didn't say anything about that.

"What’s your name?"

"Ithaqua."

It was a simple exchange, but it had changed everything between you two.

Ithaqua started going friendly more often, yielding his duties to talk to you. You, in turn, sought him out more often outside of matches. The two of you talked about everything and nothing, sharing stories and enjoying each other's company.

It started slowly, yet steadily. With time, your heart started to beat harder and harder every time you saw Ithaqua, but not due to fear. This time, it was due to another emotion, one you never imagined you'd feel in a place like this. You didn't mind, though.

You didn't mind relenting your heart, if it was to Ithaqua.

His soft laugh, his careful touch, and his everlasting presence were things you treasured dearly. Even during the worst of times, he was there for you. When you felt broken and desolate, he'd hold you. When you were angry and unable to express yourself, he'd wait for you to try and communicate your feelings. Regardless of the situation, Ithaqua always stood by you.

Certainly, he'd have his off days where he'd get mad, shout, or say things he didn't mean, regretting them immediately as soon as they were said. Ithaqua always apologized and held himself accountable for what he did. Never did he invalidate your feelings, always being mindful of how he said things. His face would twist into a wince whenever he phrased something horribly, stuttering over his words and clarifying himself.

You found it charming, really. The way he'd immediately relax near you, smile softer, try to be kinder. His face would grow bright every time he caught sight of you, his eyes shining with barely contained happiness. With time, you grew quite proficient at reading his expressions, even when he had his mask.

It was how you immediately realized something was wrong.

It was a chilly winter morning when it started. When you called out to Ithaqua, he tensed up before running away. You found it strange, but thought that he perhaps woke up on the wrong side of the bed and didn't want to take it out on you. Respecting him, you gave him distance, even though your gut screamed at you to chase him. You ignored your instincts and went on with your day.

You couldn't regret that decision more if you tried.

Since then, you hadn't seen Ithaqua. Not in matches, not around the manor, nowhere. It was as though he'd gone with the wind, disappearing to a place you could never reach.

As days turned to weeks, you found yourself falling apart at the seams. Your heart ached in your chest, bringing with it a pain words couldn't describe. It was like having your insides ripped out, leaving a searing, empty wound that only seemed to grow more irritated with each passing day. It reminded you of days where you smiled like no tomorrow, when you were an inseparable duo with him.

It hurt.

It hurt a lot.

Desperate, you'd even gone so far as to venture to the hunter's side of the manor. You asked anyone and everyone if they'd seen Ithaqua or knew why he was doing this, but all they could tell you was that he was gone before they could even go near him. They warned you of his temper, of how he'd grown more violent.

"It'll be fine, dear, I'm sure he'll come around."

Mary looked at you with pity as you wiped away tears of frustration and despair. You knew she wasn't at fault, but you couldn't help but be a bit angry at her. Her pity was not what you needed. Comforting words would be fine, but empty lies were never things you liked. They just promised you things you knew wouldn't happen, made you hope when you knew there was nothing to hope for.

As rumors of Ithaqua's change in temperament grew, so too did your wrath. You were growing tired of this game. He would hide, you would chase, and not even once would you be able to catch sight of him.

You were no fool. You had pondered over what you could've done wrong, what you could've done to offend him, hurt him, scare him, everything. No matter how much you thought about it, you could only draw a blank. That left one option and one option only.

Ithaqua had brought this upon himself.

No matter how many times you tried to convince him, Ithaqua always firmly believed he didn't deserve you. He always saw you as some kind of saint, an angel that could do no wrong. Conversely, he always saw himself as unworthy, horrible, and selfish. Now, you had the results of his thoughts. You could respect his decision, or you could not.

The answer was obvious.

Like hell you were going to let him leave you like this!

He wanted to play a game of cat and mouse? Fine. Two can play at that game.

You ripped paper out of your drawers, writing with a fury that almost tore the delicate sheets. Your tears stained parts of the letter, making words slightly blotchy. Even with your vision blurry, you finished your final sentence and shoved it all in an envelope. With a quick stamp of wax, your letter was complete.

You steel your nerves as you walk down the dark hallway to the Illusion Hall, knowing that she'd be waiting for you there. She always seemed to know what people wanted, and of all people here, she was the only one who could deliver your letter to the baron.

Opening the door, you see Ms. Nightingale seated with tea. She smiles at you, motioning to the seat in front of her.

"I've been waiting."

-

The frigid winds of Leo's Memory whipped at your skin without mercy. You didn't care about that, however. You had a mission and you were going to complete it.

You made a bargain with the baron, offering him almost anything he wanted in exchange for a singles match with only you and Ithaqua. You were truly willing to give anything if it meant getting that stubborn man to just talk to you.

You knew making a deal with the baron was a horrible idea. Giving him the power to take anything from you? Even worse. Still, you were desperate, reckless, and furious. Ithaqua was once again isolating himself and he was hurting.

You were hurting.

So, you offered everything you had. You didn't know what the baron wanted, so you could only leave it to him to make the choice for you. You couldn't risk the baron getting annoyed with you and refusing you.

Surprisingly, he relented easily. He merely sent you a letter asking you to get Ithaqua back to normal.

Under the glow of night, Ithaqua looked ethereal. His hair was like moonlight, pure silver strands gleaming as they framed his face. His eyes were like the hydrangea that bloomed in the spring, clear and bright.

Ah.

You touch your face, surprised to feel a wetness lingering on your fingertips.

You missed him more than you realized.

In slow motion, you see him turn towards you. He freezes, staring at you as if you're a ghost before he bolts. Your eyes only narrow in response.

In an instant, you're after him.

Your lungs heave with each breath that leaves you, cold air ripping at your throat and choking you along with your tears. Despite this, you continue, far too used to running in such conditions to be hindered in any way.

You watch Ithaqua desperately run away, slipping occasionally but continuing nonetheless. You're gaining distance on him, and soon enough, you'll have him where you want him. With that in mind, you push yourself to keep going, to keep moving and catch that stubborn idiot of yours.

You suppose you're a stubborn idiot for loving him, too.

In a single moment, you have him pinned to the snowy ground. He gasps, breathing heavily as he tries to catch his breath. He looks up at you and you know that if Ithaqua wasn't any less careful, he would've struggled. Your heart squeezes as you realize he doesn't in fear of hurting you.

You desperately gasp for air, but remain gazing at him with an intense look. You don't care about the tears that fall from your eyes or the cold. You only care for the fact that Ithaqua, after over a month of avoiding you, is finally in your sights. You would cry from the thought if you weren't already doing so.

He looks away from you with guilt, and there you see it. You see it in the way his face creases as if in pain, eyes dark and sorrowful. He's certainly thinking of something harmful again. The last time he did that, he left you for over a month.

Not again.

"Stop."

You can practically see him snap out of his thoughts in real time as you bring your hand up to cradle his face. You brush your thumb across his cheek, unable to stop your fondness despite your anger.

"You always look like that when you're thinking something self-deprecating." You whisper, almost choking as you think of how he must have felt throughout this time. You knew better than most how easy it was for both of you to succumb to negative thoughts. Being separated only made it worse, and this whole situation had been just that.

"I don't know why you've been avoiding me, but if it's because of something I've done, I'm sorry. Please tell me what I did, I won't do it again- I'll- I'll make sure I don't over step, or hurt you, or, or-" You cut yourself off, hiccuping as you roughly wipe your eyes. Your tears continue to fall no matter how many times you rub them away, never-ending.

The truth is you do know, that's what makes you cry harder. It pains you to think he hates himself so much he doesn't believe he's allowed to have anyone accept him.

It pains you to think he doesn't believe himself worthy of love.

"It's not your fault." He says gently, tenderly wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb. He shifts around so he can cradle you, and you let him. As weak as he is to you, you are to him. Though you wish to be angry at him, you can only feel relief and affection so intense it burns you alive. It doesn't help that he looks at you like you're everything he desires, holding you delicately like a treasure.

"I don't deserve you. You're simply too pure- too good for someone like me. I'm not someone kind or patient, I'm cruel and temperamental. You deserve someone who isn't broken, someone whole. It shouldn't be your job to help me, you shouldn't have to deal with my outbursts. I knew you'd never abandon me yourself, so... I left on my own."

He buries himself in your shoulder, unwilling to look at your face. You think that's for the best, since you're sure you're making a face of pure agony.

To know it is one thing, but to hear it from Ithaqua himself that he felt absolutely unworthy of you was another. It ripped open a wound you didn't know existed, bleeding you out as you held him.

Taking a shaky breath in, you resolutely gaze up at the moon. You had come here to give Ithaqua a piece of your mind and you'd be damned if you didn't do so. It was now or never.

"Whether you are worthy of me or not is up to me." You force him to look you in the eye, hands holding his face firmly. "You do not get to make that decision for me. And in my eyes? You have always been worthy."

You watch as tears fall from his eyes, smiling kindly at him as you wipe them away. His eyes tell you practically all that you need, of how much he missed you, how he'd wanted to see you, of how much he loved you. 

He lays his heart before you and you, in turn, cradle it gently, swearing to protect it for as long as you live.

He is a gentle breeze, one which soothes your soul. He is the first wind of spring that promises you a better future.

He is zephyr.

He is love.

.

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Tag List

@ithaquakisser, @xiaosmary

Sweetest Thing (Royal!Anne×Baker!Reader)

AN: This started as a Xiao fluff fic, then an angst one after a friend said I couldn't be evil, but somehow ended up turning into an Anne fluff fic. It was also only supposed to be 1.5k words at most though, that didn't happen either. Writing really is an experience. Also sorry about your divorce omw to fight Vin/hj Word count: 2.3k words Summary: Princess Anne tries to bake you cookies after seeing you feeling down. It doesn't go well.

Anne awkwardly looks at the pile of ominous mush in the pan. It smells faintly of charcoal, smoke, and regrets. It honestly smelled better than it looked, considering it looked like an abomination of nature and a war crime to all of Oletus Kingdom.

'Perhaps... I'm not suited for things like baking.' Anne thought, letting an embarrassed smile form upon her lips. She put down the tray and took off the oven mitts. Although she wasn't surprised, she couldn't help but be disappointed nonetheless.

For the longest time, the bakers of the Lester Royal Family were your ancestors. Raised to serve the country's sovereign, you were well known throughout the entire kingdom and beyond for your baking skills. You were called a genius, a prodigy, practically born to be a Royal Baker, which wouldn't necessarily be incorrect.

However, Anne could never accept that. Before you could be properly trained to become a Royal Baker, you were her playmate. While her parents wanted her to hang out with nobility, Anne had found herself drawn to you. Perhaps it was the ever lingering scent of baked goods on you, or the fact that you'd sneak her treats when she wasn't supposed to have any.

Regardless, she saw you as a friend first and foremost. You weren't the Royal Baker, her servant, or anything else like that. Anne would never let those titles define who you are as a person, not when she had gotten to know who you are before those titles were stuck upon you. Even now, when you two are older, when things are more complicated than they were before, she can't see you as anything less than, well, you.

She had seen you looking rather upset; so as any good friend would do, she tried to cheer you up. Anne's plan was simple: make you cookies. It would be especially meaningful if she made it herself, so she shooed off the worried servants from the extra kitchen and got ready.

It couldn't be that hard, right? She wasn't expecting them to be perfect or anything, just decent, or at least edible. With a cookbook and some of the best ingredients in the kingdom, it was basically impossible for Anne to fail!

She was severely mistaken.

Baking was far harder than the princess had anticipated. It required precision, practice, time management, multitasking, and so much more. It was honestly overwhelming. There was seemingly so much time to do this and that, but then, in the blink of an eye, something was burning.

Sulking a bit, Anne glanced sullenly at the flour dusted pages of the cookbook. It sat there innocently, as if it hadn't misled her. The picture of the perfect finished product taunted her in all its glory, looking scrumptious.

Her stomach growled, to which she let out a groan immediately afterward. It had been a rough few hours, and she hadn't gotten around to eating. She'd strictly informed the servants not to enter until she came out. Respecting her orders, they didn't come in at all, even just to inform her that it was lunchtime. Perhaps they had said it outside the door, but she just hadn't heard.

Either way, Anne was hungry, tired, and a bit let down. Thus, she sluggishly started to clean up the mess she had made, carefully tossing dirty bowls and spatulas into the sink. She quickly wiped the counter with a wet rag before washing her hands, humming faintly.

Turning around, she faced her little atrocities. She honestly didn't know what to do with them. It felt like a waste to throw away, but these were most definitely anything but edible. It could probably be used as a poison, if you can even convince someone to try it.

Anne prepared to throw away the results of her hours of effort, a bruised ego her only other prize, when the door opened. Surprised, she set down the tray immediately to see who it was.

There you stood, looking vaguely concerned as you stepped into the kitchen. The door clicked shut behind you like the final strike of a clock, declaring the end of her life.

'Oh God why.'

Her face flushed red as she fully turned around to hide the tray behind her body. Anne knew very well you'd likely have seen it coming in, but she still tried to conceal her humiliating attempt at cookies.

Trying to seem calm, she plastered a strained smile to her face and observed you. You weren't in your work clothes, dressed more for an outing, if anything. It reminded her that she had invited you to come try her cookies around this time since it was your day off.

Anne of the past had believed she would've made good cookies by now.

Ha. Haha.

Past Anne was dreadfully wrong, and she couldn't curse herself enough for her arrogance.

"Anne? Are you alright? I came as you asked but uh... you seem busy." You slowly walk towards her, watching as immediately her smile drops and she panics. You pause as she rips a tray off the counter and tries to shove the entire thing in a trash can. She fails, as instead of dumping it in sideways, she threw it down flat.

The tray clangs loudly against the rim of the trash can, echoing in the kitchen. The charred... whatever it is, jumps up and down a few times, adding a few crispy crackles and wet splats to the odd symphony of noise.

If Anne's face could turn any redder, it would.

You stare at Anne, bewildered. The usually sweet and composed princess was no more, reduced to nothing but a bumbling mess. She looked like she would want nothing more than for the Earth to swallow her whole.

"...are you alright?" You ask again, genuinely worried that Anne was going half catatonic on you. She had stopped floundering by now, elegantly folding her hands in front of her. She stared at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"...yes. I'm perfectly fine." Her voice cracked, but she pretended that didn't happen. In fact, Anne was trying to forget everything that had happened in the past few minutes. She didn't want to think about it.

You squint your eyes at her before turning to get a better look at the tray she so desperately wanted to keep away from you. Initially, Anne tries to hide it, but after carefully moving her aside, you see it all.

The burnt, dry, yet somehow also wet mush on the tray is somewhat of a familiar sight to you. It reminds you of when you were younger, when you were just an apprentice baker, if you could even be called that. Many failed attempts were made those days, but it was necessary for you to become the baker you are today. It felt nostalgic.

Turning to the cookbook nearby, you read the description. Your brows raise in surprise before you face Anne once more. She looks ready to sprint out the room, noble etiquette be damned.

Seeing her flustered like this was rare and precious, but you knew you shouldn't tease. From the few clues around the kitchen, as well as the fact that you'd been invited at this time, you could piece together what had happened.

Silently, you pull out a sandwich from the picnic basket you'd been lugging with you. You pass it to Anne, watching her stare at you in confusion. She quickly gives up on finding answers, preferring to eat first rather than asking questions.

Gently placing the picnic basket on the counter, you continue to take out the packed dishes and drinks. You pour a glass of lemonade before sending it Anne's way, watching as she quickly takes it with a curt "thank you." You could understand now why the servants had seemed so relieved to see you.

The kitchen servants had asked you to bring food to the princess while you were visiting, worried beyond belief but unable to defy her orders. Her command that no one could enter the kitchen lest she exit was a bit unreasonable, but they didn't dare disobey her. They could only await her exit anxiously before you came, concerned for her health.

"...I was trying to make cookies for you." She starts, having finished her meal. You hum in response, taking a sip of your drink. "It didn't turn out well, as you can see."

It certainly didn't.

You glance at the dirty dishes in the sink, then remember how her attempt had looked. It was... evidently not her specialty, making sweets, but that was no fault of hers. Anne had never baked in her life.

Most people didn't realize how much effort it took, and didn't bother trying, daunted by the idea of doing something new. Yet, Anne tried. She was brave enough to try regardless of the likelihood of failure. That was still something to be proud of.

"I noticed you'd been feeling a bit down these days, so I wanted to cheer you up. Your cookies always cheer me up, so I thought I could make my own to do the same for you." She rattled on, pouting slightly. She was truly hoping to impress you, or at least be able to give you something so that you would smile.

You stare at her in surprise. It wasn't every day that someone tried to make you baked treats, much less a literal princess. People typically thought that since you were a baker, you could just make stuff for yourself and wouldn't care about receiving them. They aren't wrong. You can always make your own goods, but it'd still be nice to receive some. However, you understood that at the same time, you'd have to have a lot of courage to give a Royal Baker baked treats.

"Well, do you want to make cookies together, then?" You ask, smiling gently at Anne. She looks at you in surprise, then joy. Her face lights up as she enthusiastically shouts, "Yes!"

So, after chatting a bit more, the two of you clean up the counter to get ready to bake. You pull flour, sugar, and other ingredients from the shelves, flitting from place to place. Anne watches, having set the washed bowls, whisks, and spatulas on the counter.

As you instruct her to mix together ingredients while you preheat the oven, she can't help but admire you. You quickly preheat the oven, set a timer, and then start chopping chocolate bars on a cutting board in a single rotation. Your movements are quick and efficient, elegant in their own right.

"Your cookies were rather, er, wet but burnt at the same time. I'm guessing you probably used too much butter and sugar." You noted, swiftly sliding the chopped chocolate off the cutting board and into a bowl. Anne hums a confirmation, starting to pull the dough out of its bowl and kneading it on the counter.

"It was really dry, so I thought I should add some butter since they said to be careful with the amount of milk we used. I added more sugar since I thought that it'd taste better if it's sweeter. After all, there's a lot of dark chocolate in here." You look at the cookbook, realizing she's right. Although she went about it incorrectly, Anne's line of thought was perfectly reasonable.

"If you want it to be sweeter, we can substitute some of the dark chocolate for milk chocolate. As for the dryness, that's temporary. It might seem like nothing is changing, but just keep kneading." You never explicitly say that the way she did things was wrong, only offering the correct solution. She appreciated that you didn't scold her or say aloud her mistakes.

You were always conscientious, making sure to be firm but not harsh, respectful, but not distant. Despite the fact that you were well aware she was a princess, you always treated her as a friend when alone.

Anne didn't want to lose you due to things like birth rights and the like. To be perfectly honest, her role as a princess was more a chain that held her back than a key that unlocked opportunities for her.

If there was one thing she wished for more than anything, it would be to have you by her side forever. Her title wouldn't help her with that, only getting in the way if anything.

Still, she was willing to fight for the chance to be with you, to see you smile, to see you laugh, to see you sneakily offer her another treat that you knew she wasn't allowed to have.

She would do everything in her power to be with you, because to Anne, you were sweeter than any treat you could make.

"And... done."

You wipe the sweat off your forehead, turning to look at Anne. You're both dusted in flour and a bit disheveled. Yet, you don't think you've ever felt as happy as you have at this moment.

"We're done!" She cheers, looking at the finished cookies with pride. With your teamwork, the two of you managed to make them perfectly, a few adjustments made to suit your preferences. They were cooled and dusted in sea salt, the rich scent of chocolate filling the room.

Your gaze softens at how Anne jumps up and down in exhilaration. It had been a bit difficult, but it was fun working with her to bake cookies. It was silly, it was loose, and it was just you two being you.

Carefully, you place the cookies onto a plate, watching Anne place two cups of milk on the counter. You take one cup to your side as you place the plate between you two, glancing up at her with a smile.

As the setting sun caresses your skin and embraces Anne, the two of you eat your cookies. The undertones of coffee and dark chocolate are a bit bitter, but the sweetness of the milk chocolate matches it perfectly. Just as such, through the bitterness of failure, the sweetness of your smile made Anne feel as if this day was a success. She hopes you'll bake with her again.

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Tag List

@xiaosmary

Apricity (Ithaqua×Reader)

AN: My first post on this site and of course it's for friends. Regardless, I hope whoever reads this, enjoys it! This is also my first time using Tumblr and posting so if it looks bad, I'm sorry. Word count: 1.7k words Summary: Ithaqua loves you. He loves you more than he can ever express, so he sets you free. That's what you need, right?

If he had to describe you, it'd be with only a single word. Ithaqua didn't think anything else could quite explain the deep seeded feelings that blossomed in his heart. The warmth that filled him to the brim, the natural softening of his gaze, or the way he'd snap to attention at the sound of your voice, all of it, everything, those reactions, it all culminated into one word.

"Apricity."

When you smiled, when you laughed, when you listened, and when you talked, it all soothed his soul. It was the feeling of sunlight touching frigid skin in winter, that warmth like salvation upon him. 

You were the Sun and he was the Earth. The Earth that could never survive without the warmth of the Sun, that bathed in its light every day and circled it for eternity. You two shared a bond stronger than that rooted in words, which dragged you together like gravity, that set him alight in shades of blues and greens. 

However.

He knew he didn't deserve to feel like this. 

He knew he didn't deserve you. 

Your kindness and understanding even when he yelled, when he reacted in ways that made him hate himself, made Ithaqua wish he'd never met you at all. You're just too compassionate, too willing to embrace his flaws, to love him when he isn't worthy of even just looking at you.

That feeling curled in his gut, whispered in his head, sunk its teeth into his heart, and devoured him alive with guilt. For really, what else could he do? Live without you? Death would be kinder.

Even with that guilt lingering in the back of his head like the bitter taste of gal upon one's tongue, he stayed by you. Nothing could make Ithaqua willingly separate from you for longer than a few hours. Well, other than your boundaries.

As he thought this, basking in the rays of the sun all the while, you stood by his side. You smiled at him as you ran in the snow, kicking up the fluttering white frost and laughing all the while. You twirled and hummed, dragging your hand along the porch, scooping snow into your hands and packing it together into a ball.

When you turned to him, he thought you'd launch the snowball at him. Instead, you rushed towards him and presented it to him, eyes sparkling the whole time. It resulted in him staring at you in confusion, though Ithaqua hesitantly took the snowball from your palms.

Once Ithaqua accepted the snowball, you ran back to snatch more snow, turning it into a smaller ball. Then, once more, you offered the snowball to him, which Ithaqua once again accepted with confusion. This repeated a few more times before you were seemingly satisfied, smiling as you made him hold out his hands with the snowballs.

You stuck your tongue out as you focused on the snowballs, grumbling below your breath. Ithaqua watched, smiling softly as you continued to do this. The way your brows were drawn together in concentration was adorable, leaving him content to let you do as you pleased regardless of how odd it was.

After a few minutes of rearranging, you pulled away with a grin. Clapping your hands together in glee, you look up at him. Ithaqua feels the familiar sensation of his heart squeezing, though he ignores it in order to give you his full attention.

"Look! I made us as snowmen! Er- snowpeople??? Snowpeople!" You say it with a child-like joy, taking one of the snowmen- snowpeople from his hands. Belatedly, Ithaqua realizes this one vaguely looks like him.

You cradle the imitation of him like it's the most precious thing to exist. In turn, he holds the imitation of you as if he'd protect it with his life. You laugh as he does, making him laugh in return. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, the sun giving you a halo that makes you glow. You're lit up in shades of gold, making you look like everything he'd ever desire and more.

You look good like this, Ithaqua thinks. You look good when you're happy.

Perhaps that was what made him do it, what made him kill himself. That part of him that loved you so much it could be called nothing less but obsession, slayed and buried by his own hand. He shoved it into a corner of his heart that would never be reached again, locked behind walls he started to build around himself once more.

Ithaqua stopped talking to you, he started to avoid you. He stayed in his room as much as possible, or hid in the darkest parts of the woods surrounding the manor. Even when you had matches with him, he'd show neither hide nor hair of himself before you.

It was as though he'd all but disappeared from your life, giving you whiplash. Did you do something wrong? Did you push his boundaries? Did you accidentally offend him?

Even as you had this emotional crisis, Ithaqua stubbornly refused to face you. Even as his heart broke seeing you cry, asking the other hunters if they knew why he was acting this way, he hid away. No, perhaps it was more accurate to say he ran away.

It was better this way for the both of you, he thought. You could shine your light upon those who deserved it instead of someone like him. He doesn't regret anything. It doesn't hurt.

Even to him, his words all sounded like empty lies.

Still, he'd hold true to this plan. Even as his temper grew worse, making him snap at fellow hunters or unfortunate survivors, he continued. Ithaqua refused to meet you in any way, shape or form. He knew if he did, he'd never be able to let you go again.

Oh, but he should have known. Just as he is stubborn, you are too. Perhaps more than him, even. It was natural for someone who was willing to try and help him, who was kind enough to do so.

When Ithaqua found himself in a random match on Leo's Memory with no recollection of going there, he simply thought it was a punishment from the baron. He'd been losing quite a few matches and hurting many survivors severely, after all. Any matches with you in it, he'd simply not participate in, running away whenever he got tinnitus. In any other match, however, he hunted like never before. So, perhaps this was retribution. Perhaps, it was his turn to be hunted.

And hunted he was.

Ithaqua ran, heart pounding in his chest, though not because of fear. Even as his legs felt as though they'd give out on him, he pushed through, forcing himself to go beyond his limits. If he didn't, it'd all be over.

His blood pumped almost painfully through his veins, his stilts slipping on ice as he continued to try and gain distance. It wasn't working all too well, but he'd be damned if all his efforts went to waste.

However, it was all for naught. In a single moment, he was pushed onto the ground, body colliding with snow. Ithaqua would have struggled if not for the fear of hurting you.

You loomed above him, pinning him down as you desperately gasped for air. Tears were pooling in your eyes as he could only look away in guilt. 

'This is what you do to them.' The voices whispered. 'They've only just seen you again and they're hurt. You can never protect what you love no matter how hard you try. Truly, they'd be better off without yo-'

"Stop."

Your voice cut through his thoughts as you brought your hand up to cradle his face. Tears fell like shooting stars from your eyes, dripping onto his face as though they were his own. Truthfully, he felt like crying, too.

"You always look like that when you're thinking something self-deprecating." You whisper the words like you don't want them to be heard, don't want them to exist, but he hears them anyway. His heart clenches, both in deep sorrow and in shameful love. You knew him too well.

"I don't know why you've been avoiding me, but if it's because of something I've done, I'm sorry. Please tell me what I did, I won't do it again- I'll- I'll make sure I don't over step, or hurt you, or, or-" You cut yourself off, hiccuping as you roughly wipe your eyes. Your tears continue to fall no matter how many times you rub them away, never-ending.

Ithaqua sighs quietly as he lets go of the last of his self control. With his plans laid completely to waste and your quaking form before him, he can't do anything but surrender himself to you. It was a complete and utter loss.

"It's not your fault." He says gently, tenderly wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You look at him with a certain kind of softness as he does so, allowing him to shift around so he can cradle you.

Even now, with tears rolling down your cheeks, eyes reddened, and sniffling in his arms, you were lovely to him. 

"I don't deserve you. You're simply too pure- too good for someone like me. I'm not someone kind or patient, I'm cruel and temperamental. You deserve someone who isn't broken, someone whole. It shouldn't be your job to help me, you shouldn't have to deal with my outbursts. I knew you'd never abandon me yourself, so... I left on my own."

He buries himself in your shoulder, unwilling to look at your face. In hindsight, this plan was a horrible idea. It'd obviously hurt both you and him, and solve nothing at all. Yet, for whatever reason, it made perfect sense to Ithaqua, even now.

"Whether you are worthy of me or not is up to me." You force him to look you in the eye, hands holding his face firmly. "You do not get to make that decision for me. And in my eyes? You have always been worthy."

Ah. 

He feels tears that he'd forced himself to push down, finally gather in his eyes and fall. You smile kindly at him as you wipe them away, as tenderly as he had for you. 

Ithaqua bares his soul to you as the morning sun starts to rise, painting you both gold. The pain, the grief, the joy, the relief, everything that his heart had hid, laid before your eyes to see.

You truly were the sunlight that touched his frigid skin in winter.

You were apricity.

You were salvation.

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Tag List

@ithaquakisser, @xiaosmary

(Man why is this platform so hard to use smh)

I just realized that Emille has the same name as Emil. Omg...I can swear on Big bird's feathers that I had created Emille way before I played IDV.

Love my bbg 🙏😁😁😁😁😁😁😁

GUYS I JUST GOT ANTIQUARIAN

postman boy I drew for a mutual

WOE, LUCHIMIL ART MADE BY GAYASS HEADMATE BE UPON YE

HAPPY CHARACTER DAY, POLUN! Here’s a redraw for the occasion! The original (right) was from a little over a year ago now.

yaas queens, sing

blue polun (two versions because i couldn’t decide if the white or black bg looked best)

Weavers from Hollow Knight and Soul Weaver from IDV

I hc reticent as usually being pretty mute (because of his deduction quests only saying …) but when he does happen to speak, it’s really needlessly loud or aggressive.

a collection of some of my stupid IDV sketches

very short MV because this song very much reminds me of polun song is ‘Just A Fan - Roar’

the three faced god god never let me draw this skin again. took me way too long, lol

original audio from The Second City. just Kevin and Freddy talkin...?!? (Happy pride month, folks)

i think these images speak for themselves. part 1 of a.. I guess 'comic series' im making. I will call it “down with the hunters” (for tagging purposes)

it has come to my attention that I rarely post on this account (because I suck at consistently making SDV fanart), so to combat this inactivity; I will post fanart for any darn fandom I please. To start off, heres my first Kevin sketches :-^)