#;;shall make a special tag just for those soon

[sacrxdfire]

[midnightorchids]

i am frothing at the mouth at firefighter!Jason🤤

I’ m imagining Jason accidentally bumping into reader who so happens to be a school teacher and he can’t help but flirt just a little bit whilst the class of kids he’s educating on fire safety look at them both with wide eyes😃

I absolutely love this idea so much! I wrote something based off of this ask and low key went a little overboard with world building, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Field trip mornings always created an exciting buzz amongst your students. Their gentle chatter filled the chilly parking lot of the old school and you giggled at their enthusiasm.

The moment brought a sense of nostalgia, it engulfed your heart in a warm embrace. It reminded you of your days in elementary school. The memories of bitter autumn mornings and your teacher’s frustrated attitudes played before your eyes. You smiled thinking about your past and how those small experiences inspired you to pursue a teaching career.

This field trip was a special one as it happened to fall on Halloween Day. The children complained about having to come to school on the holiday, but as soon as you mentioned that they could come costumed, the excitement was back. Your third grade class did not disappoint, they were all dressed in bright costumes for their first ever visit to the fire station.

The bus ride was fairly normal. The children were a mix of both calm and rowdy. You intervened every once in a while when their noise level got too loud, otherwise the students were well behaved.

Entering the fire station was like entering a dream. The foyer of the building was warm and inviting. The heat radiated off of the walls and it made you slip off your coat. There were Halloween decorations coating the pale walls and you watched your children ooh and ahh with excitement.

Your eyes were still scanning the room when a tall man walked over towards you. He wore his uniform around his waist with a black compression shirt that hugged his body. You could see a sleeve of tattoos on display and a thin silver chain peaking through from under his shirt. Despite not wearing your coat anymore, you still felt your body heat up.

You stared at his name tag—Jason, it read. You recalled the name from the numerous emails and phone calls you had exchanged in order to make this tour happen. You always thought his voice was sweet, but you had never imagined him looking like this.

He was attractive—breathtakingly so. His eyes radiated a bright shade of emerald and were full of life. He had heavy bags under his eyes, which, you assumed, were from working long hours at the station. His facial features were sharp. His cheekbones stood high and his hooked nose sat perfectly poised on his face. He looked like a Roman sculpture. Your eyes trailed down to his lips and you noticed a small scar on the right side of his mouth. You felt your fingers twitch, almost as if they were itching to trace the mark.

Jason cleared his throat, pulling you out of your deep trance and you felt goosebumps trailing your skin. You quickly spoke up, trying to ease the tension.

“Hello, my apologies, I completely zoned out, it’s been a long morning,” you said, desperately hoping that he believed the poor excuse you made to justify openly checking out the man.

You suddenly felt even more uncomfortable, you looked to your side only to notice all of your students staring right at you. You felt yourself getting flustered again, but quickly moved past the feeling. You extended your hand to shake Jason’s calloused ones. His eyes raked your figure and he gave you a sly smile.

“It’s okay,” he responded gently. “Shall we get started with the visit,” he changed the subject quickly and you couldn’t be happier.

Jason turned his attention towards the children and greeted them with an enthusiastic expression, his passion for his job clearly reflected in his way of speaking.

He led your tiny class towards the breakout rooms of the fire station. On the way to the rooms, Jason pointed out one of the girl’s Wonder Woman costumes and he shrieked in an endearing sort of way. He kneeled to the girl’s height and handed her a small sticker. She smiled, thanking him. Jason then locked his eyes with yours and called the girl pretty, and you knew at that moment that the comment was not only for her, but for you too. You felt a rush of heat run through your cheeks and up to your ears.

The breakout rooms were similar to the foyer of the fire station. There were little skeletons propped up against the whiteboards and small jack-o-lanterns on each desk.

Once the children had settled, Jason handed the rest of them with fun stickers and pamphlets about fire safety for them to take home. He joked with the kids, and managed to sneak in a fire pun every now and then. He was a good listener, he paid attention to everything the children had to share. You turned your head to the side and silently admired his ability to work with the kids; not everyone could handle a group of eight-year-olds first thing in the morning.

Jason quickly gave the class a presentation about the dangers of fires and the importance of protecting yourselves when dealing with hot objects. It was odd, he wasn’t even trying to hide his flirtatious comments, he’d stare right at you upon the very mention of the word “hot.”

You noticed Jason had a habit of walking around the room, maybe it was to keep the students engaged or maybe he did it for his own reasons. But it had got to the point where he’d brush past you, almost purposefully. The parts of your skin that made contact with his body were on fire.

After the presentation, Jason decided it would be best if the kids got a quick break before continuing the tour of the fire station. You happily agreed, needing a break yourself.

You sat on a chair close to the exit, when one of your students came to you on the verge of tears—the culprit being a paper cut. You cooed at the child, gently cupping their much smaller hand and guiding them to your first aid kit. Unknown to you, Jason was watching the interaction play out.

He hadn’t known you long, but he thought you were stunning. The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the way your features sat against your skin, and the way you spoke with such eloquence. It was everything he found attractive, but seeing you showcase such patience with the “wounded” child, made his heart race. Not only were you beautiful, but you were kind—to Jason, in the very little time he had known you, you felt like an angel.

“Do you like them,” a small voice suddenly spoke. It was the Wonder Woman from earlier and Jason smiled.

“Ah the lovely Wonder Woman is back,” he replied, ignoring the child’s question. The little girl giggled.

“I think you have a crush on my teacher,” Jason raised his eyebrow. What did this little girl know about crushes? The child laughed again and said, “I think she might like you back.”

“What makes you say that,” Jason inquired, now suddenly interested. The little girl shrugged and made a face.

“I dunno,” and with that, she ran off, leaving Jason confused.

After the break, Jason guided the students to the main hall to show them the fire trucks. The energy was high in the room, the kids were beaming with excitement. The tension between you and Jason only seemed to rise though. With every passing flirtatious comment and every lingering look, you felt yourself getting more anxious. How inappropriate would it be if you asked for his number at the end of the field trip… you caught yourself thinking.

It was as if Jason had read your mind because at the end of the tour, he pulled you aside to thank you for bringing in the children and letting him have the opportunity to teach them. You grinned and also expressed your gratitude. You began to walk towards the students, when Jason grabbed your wrist and held onto you gently. He slipped a piece of paper into your palm and sent you a quick wink before heading out.

You stared at the small paper and slowly opened it.

Inside, the words read in messy lines, “call me,” with a string of numbers. You looked into the direction that Jason left, and smiled to yourself.

You were definitely going to call him.

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l ten

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.���

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

[burning-spyce]

« Your destruction shall be

my greatest pleasure! »

ʚ˚₊‧ 🔥 ꒱꒱Hiya‼️⊹˚˖

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[23 / xe they / ENFJ / ENG+ESP ok !]

-ˋ₊˚. Here comes my super, duper late intro post ! 💥💥 || I'm Itzamna (or Itza / Sol) , an agender Mexican-native 🇲🇽 who doodles, writes, and makes edits. Cookie Run is one of my longtime special interests and so a blog was made to dump aplenty ! I'm also autistic so there WILL be rambles from time to time. — Alongside, most of my content consists of writings, selfship/oc x canon content !!✨ (YIPPEEE!!)

// ❤️‍🔥 I love Burning Spice very, very much 'n he might be most of what I put on here, whoops. That being said, I'm an avid self/yumeshipper if you couldn't tell, and I’ve done it for as long as I could remember, jeje! It was love at first sight and we've been together since. 💛💛 I plan on marrying him soon, but we've gotten officially married in-universe !~

My main art blog is @hastugorath 🐙 , and I interact from there ❕❕— I'm currently trying to balance both but the cookie run brainrot is EXTREME... So I may be a lot more active on here to pour my heart out about silly cookies. (Most importantly my husband.) 💕

I can be a little shy but I’m open to making friends and interacting with others! Feel free to tag me in things or send me asks ! ! ^^

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ʚ˚₊‧ 🌶 kin list & about my selfship ‼️➥

misc. yumeship info ;

🌺 pairing ; Burning Spice x Aji Pepper

🔆 ship name ; Potent Ardor-ation, a play on their spicy inspirations, strong fiery bond, and a pun on the words ‘ardor’ and ‘adoration’! / Or just BurningPepper !!~

🌺 ship icon ; ⚔️🌺 / 🗝️🌋

🔆 relationship ; ROMANTIC ‼️ 💛

🌺 sharing ❔️ ; non-sharing 🔐❕️❕️RAAAH❕️❕️

*non-shares harder than other non-sharers...* >:)))

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ʚ˚₊‧ 🌶 stamps n stuff ‼️➥

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ʚ˚₊‧ 🌶 asks, reqs, and more‼️

Asks: 🟢 || open , taking general asks or about ocs !

Requests: ⛔️ || not yet !

Commissions: ⚪️ || on hold til I build my portfolio & set things up!

DMs: 🟢 || mutuals, frens, sure !!

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✦⌇༉‧₊˚ BYI ❕️

This is not a gimmick blog or satire, I really love Burning Spice, and he's a big comfort character for me!

My social battery runs out pretty quickly so I may go inactive for short periods of time and struggle to respond to dms/asks or requests ! I apologize / please don't take it personally, I'll answer as soon as I can! ^^

I’m pretty forgetful so if I take a while to respond to something don’t hesitate me to give me a gentle nudge or two!

I may need tone tags sometimes, but I'm alright without 'em depending!

✦⌇༉‧₊˚ DNI 🚫

Basic dni criteria; proship, zoo, anything of the phobics or gross. I don't want p3d0s, z00s, or any of the sort interacting w my blog, you WILL be blocked ‼️

Doubles!!! Or those who self-ship with Burning Spice, or ship him with ocs. I'm alright with some canon x canon ships with him, but he's mine teehee,, 😻 /lh /j.— Also those who are anti-selfship or fun. If you don't like my blog, just block pls ! ^_^

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[thesassypadawan]

Training Day (Qui-Gon x FemPadawanReader)

Summary: Training Day, that special time of the week when you and your master work your body…mold it…teach it to take his colossal cock.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Size training and…Qui-Gon’s fat dick. Padawan reader is of age.

- “Remember. Concentrate on the moment. Feel. Don’t think,” Qui-Gon mutters. One big hand lovingly tucking your braid behind your ear. The other gripping your waist possessively.

- “Yes, master,” you whimper. Beads of sweat trickling down your neck, your back. Straddling his wide lap, fat tip wedged tightly in your sopping cunt.

- A warm smile spreads across his face, blue eyes hungrily sweeping over your trembling form. “Good. Shall we continue your ‘training’ then, padawan of mine?”

- Nodding, you take in a shaky breath as you slowly start to sink down on his cock. Soft, desperate mewls falling from your lips; tears already stinging at the corners of your eyes. Despite only having taken half of him. “It-it’s too m-much… I-I can’t…”

- Long fingers rub soothing circles into your sides. Trying to relax you, coax you on. “You can… Doing so well… Keep it up…”

- With a weak sob, you continue. Gummy walls clenching, fluttering from the feeling of his impressive length scraping your insides…of him splitting you open. “M-Master…”

- “Almost there,” Qui coos. His words gentle and caring, but his actions… Hips buck upwards, forcing those last, girthy inches into you. Burying himself to the hilt, filling you to the absolute brim. “Per…fect.”

- Tipping your head back, you cry out. Pussy spasming; struggling to adjust to that burning ache, to being stretched beyond your limits. Tears now flow freely; rolling down your cheeks, onto your heaving breasts. “B-big…h-hurts.”

- “Ssh, it’s all right.” Lips press against yours, in the crook of your neck. Trailing to your jaw, kissing tenderly while he slowly ruts. Pulling out, then driving deeper with each thrust. “You’ll come to love it soon enough.”

- Placing his other hand on your waist, Qui-Gon quickens his pace. Guiding your movements, molding you…breaking you in. And all you can manage to do is hold on, nails scratching at his toned back…babbling incoherently.

- “Such a good girl,” he grunts. Slamming into you brutally; bullying and bruising your cervix repeatedly. Teeth nipping, marking up your sensitive skin. “So small…so tiny.”

- You’re so close, so embarrassingly close. The delicious mix of pain and pleasure has you reeling, your mind growing hazy. Begging for… “Nnghh! P-please just…please j-just make me…c-cum!”

- “Anything for you, little one.” His fingers find your clit, toying with and rolling it. Pinching so hard that your vision goes white, whole body tensing around him. Juices gushing out, coating him in your sticky mess. As you come completely and utterly undone.

- “Excellent,” Qui praises, whispering affectionately in your ear. “You did such a wonderful job. Now…”

- Before you know what’s happening, you’re suddenly pushed back onto the sleep couch. Your legs hooked over his broad shoulders, his hand caressing the bulge protruding from your stomach. “…let’s try learning another ‘form’.”

Tag List: @liam-neesons-best-girl

[madam-whim]

I was tagged by my dear @pinessydr (or at least that's what my tumblr notifs said). Thank you!! I shall tag @kiir-do-faal-rahhe, @illumiera, @bostoniangirl21 and @lilarus

This week, Sujamma wants to know about YOUR OC's special someone. What makes their relationship special? How did they meet? Were they enemies to lovers? Lovers to enemies? Lovers AND Enemies? Are they romantic or platonic? What's their favorite way to cuddle? Favorite date night? Anything and everything you can think of 💕

I would like to share a few things about Rienn and Vilkas (since Arri and Martin are hogging all the attention these days...)

They met when Farkas brought a shivering, tired Rienn to Jorrvaskr after she'd been tasked to go to Bleak Falls Barrow. For Rienn, who had at that point never wielded a blade other than a kitchen knife, this came close to a death sentence. When she told Farkas (who found her sitting near the Gildergreen and noticing her looking absolutely hopeless) her story, he offered her a safe place to rest as well as his support regarding the barrow. He then took her to Jorrvaskr and introduced her to Kodlak. Vilkas, knowing his bleeding heart of a brother, intended to protect him from harm and therefore he and Rienn really did get off on the wrong foot. He did not trust Rienn at all and suspected she wanted to rip them off at best, or wasn't who she said she was and had more sinister intentions at worst. In the end, Vilkas ended up tagging along with Rienn and Farkas. He quickly found out that Rienn was, in fact, just an innkeeper's daughter, just as she'd said.

Then, Dragonborn things happen, and Rienn ends up staying with the Companions for a time, because she has to learn how to fight somehow. She spends most of her time with Farkas and Ria and tries to stay out of Vilkas' sight; she understood very quickly that he doesn't like her. Except he is beginning to like her, realizing that she's caring and supportive; despite her training taking its toll on her, she still runs errands for Tilma and takes over cooking duty, and apparently this tiny Imperial has a lot more fight in her than he'd thought. Also, they share an interest in history (Rienn's plans coming to Skyrim were to join the Bards College, and she knows very well it's not just about singing and playing instruments), and I think that maybe Vilkas starts developing feelings for her when one night, she comes to him, asking for books about the history of the Companions - she doesn't want to bother him, but she was told he had them...? (One night in the future, they will be curled up together in bed, reading them and being way too tired the next day.) And that's when he starts opening up to her to a degree, to the point where Rienn does have a crush on him by the time they set out for High Hrothgar.

Sadly, they then get separated until after the defeat of Alduin - Rienn did NOT know about the werewolf thing, and seeing Vilkas transform in an emergency situation (they encountered three frost trolls, and Rienn was nowhere near ready to handle those) scared the life out of her, and she ran from him.

It took Rienn meeting Kodlak in Sovngarde to go back to Jorrvaskr. She's so ashamed of herself for never going back and apologizing to Vilkas before, especially when she is told that the werewolf issue is resolved, but Kodlak, wise old man that he is, merely assures her that she is sorely missed. Really, that man probably knew from day one that Vilkas and Rienn would be good together.

And once she gets back to Jorrvaskr, well, there is some dancing around each other, but Vilkas is in love with her, and Rienn, though slower to fall in love, is getting there soon enough. There are a few key moments in their pre-relationship phase, such has her brief stay in Cidhna mine and his reaction to it, and then, soon after that, they finally figure themselves out and are just the most stable, loving couple ever.

And I think that's what's so special about them - they have learned from their mistakes and miscommunications, and they now have utter faith in each other. There is absolute trust that whatever happens, they can face it. From the threat of an actual war against the Aldmeri Dominion to Hircine wanting to get his hands on Rienn, there is nothing that they won't fight their way through, because they're not abandoning each other ever again. Their love isn't this grand fairytale romance - it's safe and reassuring and comfortable.

And if, one day, they are out on a job and encounter a bunch of frost trolls again, well, then maybe Rienn will just smile at her husband and say, "Oh, good, we can do this properly this time around."

[kefiteria]

Clematis Whisper

Characters: Ivan x Till (Alien Stage)

Tags: Flower shop AU, no angst, no aliens, no round 6, just pure comfort and fluff of Ivan and Till.

A/N🍨: I used to be an adventurer like you. Then I took Round 6 in the knee... I'm sleep deprived but this au shall exist to ease my mind

In the heart of a quaint suburban town nestled between rolling hills and whispering trees, a charming little flower shop awaited the dawn, tended to with care by Till. With delicate movements paired with his rough palm, he trimmed the stems of vibrant blossoms, ensuring each petal was fresh and full of life. The soft murmur of a melody drifted through the air, blending seamlessly with the gentle hum of Till's voice as he worked, infusing the shop with a serene ambiance.

The golden rays of morning sunlight filtered through the lace curtains they bathed the shop in a warm casting dancing shadows upon the polished wooden floor. The air was sweet with the scent of roses and lilies, carrying whispers of a thousand dreams and secret wishes.

The quiet stillness of the early hours, Till meticulously checked the inventory, ensuring that every bloom was accounted for and tenderly watered those in need of a little extra care. The cash register sat patiently, ready to greet the day's first customers with a cheerful chime.

Amidst the tranquility, a tiny steps with anticipation knowing that soon the shop would come alive with the laughter and chatter of visitors, each seeking to bring a touch of floral bouquet into their lives. With a smile, Till continued arranging a bouquet of clematis, destined to bring joy to its recipient at precisely 11 am.

As the clock chimed 11 am, a figure draped in a sleek black turtleneck, his hair meticulously styled, entered the shop. The gentle jingle of the bell announced Ivan's arrival, his stoic expression masking the warmth within.

“Till, I'm here.” Ivan spoke in his usual reserved tone, his presence commanding yet understated.

Till nodded in acknowledgment, a soft smile playing on his lips as he greeted his friend. “Ah, Ivan, it's wonderful to see you.” Till said, his voice carrying a warmth. “Your bouquet is ready. Allow me a moment to retrieve it for you.”

With a reassuring nod, Till went into the depths of the shop, his steps quiet and deliberate. Moments later, he returned cradling the meticulously crafted bouquet in his hands.

“Say Ivan, you've been buying flowers a lot recently. Mostly it's clematis. Is it your favorite flower?” Till asked, his curiosity piqued by Ivan's consistent choice.

Ivan's response was tinged with a quiet nostalgia. “Not necessarily my favorite.” he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of contemplation. “But there's something about clematis… They hold a special significance for me, a reminder of something… or someone.”

“Must be one lucky person, then? Good for you. Well then, like always don't forget to trim the stems at an angle, change the water every couple of days, and keep them away from direct sunlight to make the clematis last longer.” Till reminded Ivan, his voice gentle and reassuring as he recited the familiar care instructions.

As Till moved to attend to other tasks, Ivan's mind raced. He had assumed Till would catch on, but the realization that his subtle hints had gone unnoticed hit him like a wave. With a sigh, Ivan resolved to be more direct in the future, lest the opportunity slip away entirely.

“Yes, the person is indeed a lucky one,” Ivan replied, his surprise evident in the slight widening of his eyes. “And thank you for reminding me again about the flower care.”

The day ended well for Till, the gentle hum of the flower shop gradually fading into the tranquility of the evening as he made his way home. As he approached his doorstep, he noticed something improper – a single clematis, its delicate petals illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights, resting gracefully on his doorstep.

Till's heart skipped a beat as he picked up the flower, a small note nestled beneath its stem. With trembling hands, he unfolded the note with his eyes scanning the handwritten message:

“Till, you are the lucky person I mentioned earlier, and I hope this clematis serves as a reminder of the beauty and joy you bring into my life. With gratitude, Ivan.”

Till's heart soared with confusion as he read Ivan's heartfelt note, his cheeks flushed with warmth. For a moment, he stood there overwhelmed by the depth of Ivan's feelings.

But as reality slowly seeped back in, Till felt a sudden rush of emotions. He glanced around nervously, suddenly self-conscious of his emotional display on the doorstep.

With a quick shake of his head to clear his thoughts, Till composed himself and tucked the note safely into his pocket. Taking the clematis with him, he entered his house, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within him.

Closing the door behind him, Till couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had just shifted between him and Ivan. He settled into the quiet comfort of his home, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held for their relationship.

[noirbriar]

The Star, the Sky & the Sea (2/?)

Happy Birthday to Mu la Flaga, Here is a random ficlet, well, just because, lol

Timeline be years after SEED Freedom. OOC and everything is all on me as always.Tread lightly please.

---

Mu is going to be upset. That was Murrue's first thought as she carries their daughter into her arms.Their sweet girl now babbling away happily at her favourite rabbit plush while haro bounced around on the ground. Both mother and daughter spending quality together in their quaint home after a quiet lunch and a short conference with Erica regarding work.

With Mu and Murrue pulled back from COMPS and the frontlines, they are finally able to settle down with their daughter and just be a family back home in ORB. The downtime giving them time to rest and plan for their (very, very late) wedding.

Yet duty calls as the ORB National Defense Forces had came by, while indirectly and not so very subtly requested for Mu's presence at a commemoration event. Much to the new father's displeasure. However, it was a request that he was unable to turndown when it was directly from Cagalli who had helped them so much. Murrue also thought its best for him to make an appearance, its their duty afterall. So off Senior Colonel Mu la Flaga went. The man with a duffle bag in hand, leaving his dear partner and child behind tearfully for sometime. Although he calls back often to check in on them with the occasional AA crew dropping by as well. Their ever protective hawk.

"Uh!" "Mhm, I miss papa too, Astella." Murrue sighs. Everything is peaceful.But its just not the same without Mu around.

It was then, an idea struck. "Shall we give your papa a surprise? I know! Let's go on a mission together with mama?" The mother turns to her baby eagerly.Her body has recovered and everything is well since her confinement was over.To be honest, Murrue is getting rather restless until she is cleared for work again.

Well, the doctors did say that exercise and fresh air would do them good. A mother and daughter outing sounds fun, no?

Astella babbles happily back with bright eyes the colour of the dazzling sky.

---

"Oh...its really crowded, isn't it?" Murrue blinks. It was rare for her to be in a visitor's perspective rather than an officer afterall.

Autumn is dreadfully warm this year, so Murrue has a simple flowing white one piece one and comfortable leggings. Their precious star dressed in a lavender dress (a present from Kira nii-san) while tucked safely in her carrier in front. Haro just keeps rolling carefully beside them quietly.

Astella blows a bubble in response as she takes in all the sights around her. Before pointing up at some Murasame units flying over head and started babbling excitedly, absolutely unbothered by the noise.

"Eh! Eh!"

"Yes! Astella is so smart! Those are Murasame units." Murrue laughs, giving her daughter's cheek a kiss as they headed into the ORB military's event venue. They slowly made their way to the entrance for the security check. Where the guards nearly had an aneurysm once they looked up from the baggage check to see Captain Ramius smiling sweetly back. A swift finger to her lips, trying to prevent a commotion.

They are here to give a surprise afterall.

With some casual talk and a quick thanks to the young soldiers for working hard. The officers swapped out the standard visitor pass for a special one and handed the tag to the Captain instead, after she declined kindly for an escort to accompany her.

The two soon headed inside, but not before the little girl gave the amused guards on duty a toothless smile and wave. ---

Just a little longer. Grin and bear with it. Its all almost over now.

At least, Mu hoped so. The veteran pilot freshened up and out of his pilot suit, tossing his bottle back into the locker. With ORB's national day and the Defense Forces military academy's founding day all in the same time frame, things have been hectic. It would not have been an issue considering he is technically not a soldier on active duty.

But nope! The brass had the amazingly bright idea of showcasing the special ops team Mu had a hand in, as well as some pilots for their military recruitment showcase and open house event. Which meant that Mu unfortunately had to be called in from his leave.

"Commander, its almost time." Shikishima pops his head inside the locker room and calls out, breaking up his old superior's inner grumblings.

"Yeah, I got it!"

The man adjusts the last of his medals and sighs, tidying his appearance and resists the urge to tug at his sleeves. He misses Murrue. He misses his little starlight.

Better get it all over and done with soon. The Mobile Suits showcase is over now. All that is left is the meet and greet and his duties for the most part is done.

Mu and the pilots leave the restricted area to one of the hangars open to public where a few Murasame and Astray units are stationed for viewing. Akatsuki however, have already been moved back to a secured hangar away from public.

There were initial concerns using Akatsuki for the aerial showcase earlier, since ORB's flagship gundam is still considered classified. However, Cagalli thought it would be good for citizens and morale after the terrorist attack awhile ago for the golden gundam to make an appearence. So with this rare opportunity in line with the country's national day, hopefully this will create some good PR too.

The Colonel is not personally keen as he looked at the gathering of excited civilians out there wearily. He loves flying, he loves operating MA and MS, and accepts his duty as a career soldier. But these publicity stunts?

Tedious.Tiring.Troublesome.

Its more so without Murrue by his side.

Which reminds him, there had been a strange feeling bugging at him for a while since the showcase, but it did not seem to be something to worry about.

Mu pulls himself back from his thoughts as he leads the pilots to the greeting area. Half hoping that the younger and eager pilots would help make the crowd easier to handle too. A hopeless thought of course, especially when its his name is slapped on the marketing brochures as a special appearance, leading to such a huge turnout.

Oh, that long chat he had with the army's PR and marketing bureau was fun alright. With a deep breath, Mu la Flaga puts on his best diplomatic mien, and carries out his role. Either with enthusiasts or casual visitors. Yet it was those with little eager kids and boys full of wonder in their eyes that makes the event less stressful.Afterall, he remembers how he was like those kids, watching the boundless sky.

As the event starts to wrap up and radio announcement of the closure of the area is underway. Mu watches the families leave as the sun begins to set, and starts to feel himself missing his own keenly. There it was that little spark again. He had felt it since earlier, but it started fairly faint... Now its bigger and near- "Mu!"

Mu turns towards that voice he knows. His senses alert but instantly drops it as he feels his heart lighten by the sight of that figure before him.

Murrue!

"Captain!"

"Captain Ramius!"

The pilots starts to get rowdy and gather around the beloved Captain. While some of the NCOs and staff have gotten bold and gathered around to greet their superior and the rumoured little one.

Haro rolls, avoiding the stampede of curious military personnel.

"Murrue! What ar-" Mu starts and approaches Murrue but is stopped when he sees his beloved quickly putting up a hand A small gesture urging him to stay where he is at. Only confusing the man more just as his child tries to reach a chubby hand for him from her spot on Murrue's chest. "- Pwa!" Mu blinks, baffled. Still trying to process seeing his Murrue and daughter before him that he almost missed that little sound amongst the racket the pilot squad is making.

It almost sounded like Astella is trying to call him? Murrue is smiling as she takes the little one out of her carrier, letting Astella's bunny sneakers touch the ground. Her gentle palms supporting those tiny warm hands, before letting the chubby fingers slip out gently.Those tiny feet are standing shakily but strong, as his child takes the first few shaky steps towards him.

No way. Mu is speechless as he kneels down, while the peanut gallery grows quiet, supporting eagerly by the sides. The father ignores them and focuses straight ahead, keeping a sharp eye watching over the little one toddle her way over towards him.

Two hands reaches out, scarred and calloused but always protecting the light of those he loves with every bit of his strength in him. Ever whispering encouragements to the child. Another strong figure follows closely behind those determined tiny feet, guiding hands ready to grab the innocent star from falling too far. A scrunch of a button nose, and just a few more steps! But the unsteady feet stumbles over themselves, as the onlookers gasps.

It did not matter, Mu's combat reflexes grabs Astella safely and the man laughs brightly. Strong arms hugging his child tight, kissing the chubby pink cheeks and praising her for her first steps. Before he turns and pulls his lover and partner in as well, giving Murrue a sweet kiss on those soft lips that he had dearly missed. Letting the familiar scent of this strong woman envelop his senses as he holds them close.

"Surprise." Murrue then whispers into his neck.

"Thank you." Mu smiles back, pressing his lips once more onto her forehead.

A younger pilot in that white EA uniform ever wandering aimlessly in those skies would never have dared to imagine the life he has now. However, Mu knows this is what his heart had long yearned for.

The two figures here in his arms are his sky now.

---

Omake:

"Ah!Ah!"

"Yes, that one is Akatsuki! Papa pilots that big mobile suit!" Mu grins proudly back at his daughter in his arms, who is absolutely fascinated by the large shiny unit. All bright and sparkly under the hangar lights.

Murrue stays at the side as she talks to the NCOs, but keeps an eye on her husband-to-be and their daughter. A sense of warmth and bliss filling her heart watching her love ones together and full of joy. Under that shining mobile suit that have kept him safe and helped them bring peace-

"-So does Astella wanna touch Akatsuki?"

"Mu- COLONEL FLAGA, NO!"

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter Twenty One.

Huge thanks to everyone for their continued support :)

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen  Nineteen  Twenty

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 3,294 

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Hello, Keri, my love! I am so sorry, a thousand apologies for calling you on a Saturday morning when I know you’ve likely been out last night getting very, very drunk!”

Those warm tones of a mostly Indian accent, punctuated every so often with little American twangs, were the last she expected to hear at 10am that morning, getting out of bed and heading into the bathroom so as not to wake Angel.  

“Uncle Sunni!” she gushed excitedly, softly clicking the door shut and closing the toilet lid to take a seat.

“The one and only!” he chirped, Keri grinning widely. She swore, for every year that she’d known him, his accent had gotten stronger for returning to his parent’s homeland. “How are you, darling?”

“I’m really good! How are you and aunt Bee? And my cousins?”  

“We are all very well, thank you for asking. Saanvi has decided she is a Miley Cyrus girl now, so this is all we have playing in the house, Sita is doing well with her dance classes, and Sanjay is awful. Please come and take him away!” His joke about their youngest had her in soft fits, Sunni continuing. “Listen, I was calling to get a hold of my brother-in-law, is he around? I cannot get through to his cell, your mother’s neither,” he spoke, hoping that all was okay with the family.  

“Well, mom is in at work today doing some overtime, and I think David might be working on his truck. I don’t know, I’m not at home right now,” she revealed, finger combing her messy hair.  

“Ahh, I shall keep trying him, then. He is probably listening to that bloody god-awful Rainbow music. Since you’ve been gone? Since I wish you would go, more like!” he exclaimed, snorting with laughter.  

“That’s a classic!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, classic nothing!” Sunni yelled, his volume making her laugh. He always got louder by about twenty decibels whenever excited or trying to make a point. “That and his Boomtown Rats! I don’t like Monday’s? Nobody does, Bob Geldof! Bloody sit down and be quiet!”

She sat there in hysterics at his usual comic observations. Sunni was one of very few people who could legitimately make her cry laugh, her sides hurting. Usually from the hilarious banter he and Bee got into together, or the berating of her stepdad’s taste in music.  

“So where are you, then? You say you’re not at home, are you in work? Did I disturb? I am sorry if I’m getting you into trouble,” he then asked, courteous as always.  

“No, I quit my job recently. I needed more time at the weekends, plus with leaving college approaching and not wanting to have anything to tie me down so I can travel a little, I needed to do it soon anyway,” she began in explanation. “I’m at a hotel right now, my boyfriend is up visiting from Southern Cali.”

The noise of interest Sunni made had her in fits once more. “Oh! There is a new boyfriend on the scene! Have you been with him for long? Would I approve? What is he like?” She sat and gave him a brief outline of Angel to pacify his multiple questions, Sunni making little ‘umhm’ noises as she spoke.

“It sounds like you are very happy with this man, early days or not! I would fetch your auntie for you to have your obligatory girl’s talk, but it is her turn currently trying to get Sanjay to bed, and he is being an absolute horror about it!” Her youngest cousin Sanjay had just turned two and was most definitely living up to the term terrible two’s. “Anyway, I might as well tell you why I was trying to call David, share with you our news. I have been accepted for a post at Utah Valley Speciality Hospital, so good news, darling. We are returning to America.”  

“Oh my god!” she screamed, suddenly clasping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, that’s amazing!” she then added much more quietly, drumming her feet softly against the tiled floor. “I can’t wait! When do you come back?”

“Not for another three months, just while we finish getting everything sorted at this end, selling the house, etcetera. We didn’t tell anybody, just in case it didn’t come through, but now that it has and there is also a chance that your aunt could have a job also opening up at the same hospital, now that Sanjay is of preschool age and she can return to work, we felt confident in sharing the news.” he explained, delighted at his niece’s reaction.  

They chatted for a short time longer before ending their call, Keri absolutely ecstatic to have some of her favourite family members returning. Tying her hair up, she brushed her teeth and took a quick shower, coming out to find Angel checking his phone.

“What was all the excitement for? I heard a squeal of ‘oh my god’,” he grumbled, still sounding half asleep as he placed his phone back down, a hand sliding into her towel to stroke her hip.  

“That was my uncle on the phone. He was trying to get a hold of my parents, but they’re not picking up. Anyway, he told me he and Bee are moving back over here, he’s got a job at a local hospital, so I’m over the moon that I’ll be able to see them regularly instead of once a year,” she shared.

“Yeah? That’s great, baby. I know you hated that they lived halfway around the world,” he replied brightly, just as his stomach began to growl. She raised an eyebrow, shaking her head as she leaned to kiss his abdomen. “I think I need feeding.”  

An hour later and they were sitting inside a small restaurant, hard wood surfaces, Edison light bulbs and plants strewn over the large shelves that flanked the black walls, Keri bouncing in her seat with excitement at one particular dish on the menu.

Angel looked over at her with a smile. “You just saw the peanut butter pancakes, didn’t you?”

“I did!” she squeaked. How well he knew her. Anything with peanut butter, and Keri was on it in an instant.  

Reaching for her hand, he squeezed it gently, thinking how adorable she was. “Y’all a hundred percent too cute, mamacita.” Her beamed smile made his heart skip a beat, sitting there feeling like he was the luckiest guy in the world. While the waited for their food, they sat and discussed her ever nearing departure from college, meaning that for the following three weeks they wouldn’t be able to meet with her workload going into overdrive in preparation to finish, but when she did, she had some plans.  

“I’m going to book going over to Galway, but not for as long as I originally wanted to. If you could come then that’d be great, I think Aaron and Rachel are down, Frankie too. Jaime won’t be because of work. So yeah, we’re planning on that to be for two weeks. Then I was thinking of driving down to Santo Padre, maybe basing myself there for a while, travelling around Cali. If you don’t mind, that is?”

He put on a thoughtful face, scratching his chin. “Hmm, do I mind having my beautiful, sexy, funny, amazing girlfriend around more often? Hmm, lemme think on that.” She began laughing softly through her nose, leaning over to kiss him. “Of course, I don’t mind.” Despite the joviality of his statement, he felt a pit in his stomach at hearing her plans to travel. He pushed it down, though, reasoning that she wanted to stay with him in her time between.

“Good, because you’re stuck with me now.” There was truly nobody he’d rather be stuck with. Their weekend went by in a blur, Keri holding him tightly before he departed, crying in his arms at how much she anticipated she was going to miss him. He hated leaving her behind whenever he had to go home again, but the buzz inside of knowing he’d get so much more time with her over the spring and summer alleviated the sadness of being separated from her.

While they were parted, he took his mind off it by putting in some serious time around the yard, taking on extra shifts, deciding to re-decorate his bedroom and make it look a little better than the mismatching bare essentials vibe, seeking some advice from a certain lady.

“You need a theme!” Sharise exclaimed, taking a cart from the front of the local homeware store, buzzing already. If Mrs Reyes thrived on anything, it was a decoration project.  

He viewed her with mild disgust, his nose crinkling. “A theme? Nope. I saw a picture online and I want that. Dark green walls, white ceiling. I got new furniture on the way, too. I just need things to make it look less empty.”

“Rug, lamps, artwork, candles,” Sharise began to list.

“No candles!”

“Yes, candles!” she stated emphatically. “Keri likes them, she told me which is her favourite. Black coconut by Yankee, and they sell them here.”  

He took a pause for a moment, his brow creasing. “Are you two making plans behind my back? Is this a little scheme you’ve cooked up to get some damned chick litter all up in my space?”

Sharise threw her head back, entertained at the chick litter term. “No! We were chatting the other night, she replied to one of my stories I put up with my candle collection all burning, and she mentioned she liked Yankee candles about as much as I do. Us girls talk about things like that, you know.”  

“Hmph.” His mutter was then followed by a speedy swerve around the cart, Sharise attempting to put some large cushions into it. ”No cushions! My couch is fine as it is!”

“These are for the bed,” she clarified, gently slapping his arms, grabbing two more that were slightly darker.  

“I got pillows, I don’t need ‘em!”

“They’ll finish the bed nicely, add a little depth of comfort.”

His face was a picture of confusion. “They add... what?”

“And when you’re having sex, you can pop a couple underneath your lady and they’ll tilt her hips in a way that means you get to hit a whole other host of different angles.”

He nodded, gesturing to the previously frowned upon items. “Alright, they can stay.” She grinned, tossing her braids over her shoulder as they continued, smug that she knew exactly what to say in order to get around his protests. He was, as she expected, still difficult, though.

“Sharise! Put it back,” he ordered, pointing as she wrestled with a giant, white sheepskin rug from the rolls gathered at the back of the store.

“You’re going for bare floorboards, right?”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I am.”

“Then you need a nice rug to tie the room together!”

Depth of comfort and tying the room together. Her chosen language was completely lost on him. “But then I gotta vacuum the damned thing!” His complaint was accompanied by a little show of drama, folding his arms over the cart handle, resting his head down and regretting his decision to involve his sister-in-law.

“No, because the fleece is too long, it’ll get caught in the rollers. You just go shake it outside, et voila! Done.” Into the cart it went, Angel muttering in mild despair. Fluffy rugs. Was this what his life had become?  

The rest of the store was browsed rapidly, Angel actually being able to make his own choices, loading up on photo frames he planned to put some of Keri’s photographs into after he’d had them blown up, a set of white plaster skulls that looked remarkably like the real thing, Sharise adding bits and pieces as she went for both him and herself. The large, black and grey vase with black birch twigs was not one of his choices, but he allowed it. Begrudgingly.  

“So, you seem to be very content with Keri, then, with this talk of her coming to stay for a while,” Sharise observed, finishing the large mouthful of Cuban sandwich she’d just taken at a bar she’d driven them to, telling Angel she’d at least buy him lunch in apology for terrorising him in the home décor stakes.

He smiled, thinking of her. “I really am, she’s cool. Can’t wait to have her come kinda live with me, even though I think it’ll only be temporary.”

She noticed he sounded a little dejected by that. “Because of her travelling? You two are so sillily in love with one another, I can see her making Santo Padre her base when she isn’t, you know. I know it’s still early days, but you two fit together so well.”

He scratched the back of his neck, his brow furrowing. “I sometimes wonder if I’m the one who’ll be temporary. She’s so ambitious, and young still, too. Makes me wonder if we’ll last.”  

“Well, just see how it goes, but don’t write off a future with her just because she has ambitions!” she gently suggested, reaching to squeeze his hand. “She doesn’t have to be around you all the time to be in a committed relationship with you.”

He snorted softly, looking uncomfortable, clamming up as she predicted he would. She would press, though. She’d heard of this before. “I did wonder, when you’d have your wobble.” His frown prompted her to continue. “Lucy told me, that back when you guys got together, you had a little bit of a freak out over whether she’d meet anyone else, and I suppose that’s rearing its ugly head again, with talk of Keri going off travelling around. You think she’s going to meet someone you assume to be better, don’t you?”  

He grunted.  

“Angel,” she spoke softly, reaching to stroke his face, tilting his head up. “You need to start putting to bed these feelings that you aren’t good enough. You are. Did Lucy find anyone else? Nope. So, there’s no saying Keri is going to. She’s crazy about you, for heaven’s sake! And I know what you’re gonna say, that other women in the past have only seen you as a short-term fling, but my love, that’s because it’s all you’ve offered to them, whether consciously or not.”  

“Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right," he finally admitted, realising that it was his self-sabotage coming back to haunt him. As soon as he fell in love, it was only a matter of time before it came bubbling up to the surface, his fears of loss, of not being good enough.  

He’d been pushing it down into his darkest depths for the last two weeks, ever since they’d confessed their love. It had been festering a little closer to the surface since her talk of travelling over breakfast the last time he’d seen her, though. The little pit in his stomach he’d felt? It had predictably taken root, no matter how much he didn’t want it to.  

Looking over at Sharise, he felt his little padlocked gate begin to strain. If there was one woman he always opened up to, it was her. “I don’t want to wreck it all, but I’m kinda scared I will. I can’t just be happy. My fucking brain has to freak out and cause drama. Which I usually then fuckin’ thrive on.”  

It suddenly clicked with Sharise, the sprucing up of his home. He wanted to hopefully make Keri feel as if it was hers, too. He wanted to find more ways to entice her return, hence doing away with the bachelor pad look, albeit with slight reluctance. Oh, he was too adorable, in such a beautifully, partially broken way. From what Keri had told her in exchanges messages, chatting online in order to get to know each other more, he had no reason to feel insecure. Of course, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. People were rarely so simple.  

“Angel, the only way you’re going to wreck it is by listening to that toxic little voice in the back of your head instead of Keri. Have faith. She came into your life for a reason. There’s no way that dreaming of her before you even met her is anything less than destiny. Believe in it. You were doing great until you let the panic creep in.” Taking another bite of her sandwich, she winked, Angel determined to take her advice on board.  

It didn’t help that he was only a week into a three-week separation from her, but he did work hard to keep Sharise’s advice in mind. As if the universe had heard his doubts, he received a notification one night, painting well into the small hours after returning from dealing with club affairs, wiping his hand on a spare piece of cloth as he crawled over the painting sheets to grab his phone. Keri had tagged him in an Instagram post.  

‘I don’t even know how one man can be so amazing. He’s the sexiest, the funniest, the loveliest, the best. I miss you, gorgeous. Can’t wait until this is us again.’

He smiled at viewing the image, one Keri had taken in the hotel room on the bed as she’d sat astride him, her hand reached out cupping his cheek, Angel smiling up at her as the sun shone in through the window and bathed him in bright light. He remembered just how happy he’d felt, when she’d taken it, his heart fluttering at the memory, scrolling to his call list and tapping her name.  

“Hey, you free to talk?”

“I am, I have a few spare minutes,” she replied, waiting for her coffee to pour, prepared to work right on through until the morning and then sleep for a few hours before she started again. “How are you? I hate that tomorrow is Saturday and I won’t have you here. Sucks.”

He was surprised to hear she was still up doing her work, since she’d mentioned earlier when they’d messaged that she’d be spending the entire day doing such. “You got some serious dedication there, for it to be 1am and you’re still working. As for me, yeah, I’m alright. Missing you like fuck, though.”  

She made a soft noise in her throat, picking up her large mug of coffee (a two-pod creation) and turning the machine off. “I miss you too! Two weeks and I’ll be free, though, get to come and spend ten days with you before Galway. Did you ask Bish, if you can swing that kind of time away?”

“I did,” he sighed, “and I can’t. I could come for a week, but he can’t lose me for two.”

She was bright in her reply, all optimism. “Well, that’s better than nothing! Come out with us for the week, then head home. How about that? I’d rather at least have you there for a short time rather than not at all. These places I want to travel to, having you there by my side would mean so much. I know it’s corny, but the whole making memories thing is important, you know?”

Her words made him smile, the more rational side of him seeing clearly how stupid his self-doubt was. He knew he wouldn’t likely overcome it immediately, but what she told him had helped. “Yeah, querida, I know. I love you.”

“And I love you too. Listen, I have to hit the laptop again, but I’ll call you tomorrow, after I’ve had some sleep. Night, gorgeous.”

“Night baby.” Ending the call, he looked around at the half-painted walls. They weren’t the only work in progress.  

[whgmasterofceremonies]

Round 21?

Ignore the fluttering of pages as I dust off my notes to check whether the number is right...yes, 21!

Attention, writers! Are you tired of That Character living in your head rent-free? Alternatively, are the people of That Character's world or immediate surroundings tired of them living in their heads rent-free? Are ya ready to make them pay their dues by chucking them into a Hunger Games simulator and seeing who wins, with optional Hunger Games AU writing prompts along the way?

That’s right! We are NOT dead, so if a few people are interested, it's time for another round of the Writeblr Hunger Games! For those who don't know, the basic format for the WHG is that writers submit their original characters as potential candidates. Then I put them in the Brant Steele Hunger Games Simulator and share the results of them fighting each other to the death.

This round's going to look a little different. Instead of random characters strictly fighting for their lives, you would choose your most special someones to compete in the True Chosen One Challenge. Whether your character has a canonical destiny, a headcanoned prophecy, or just way too much of your brainspace, this competition will force them to face their fate. Whoever rises to the top shall win the title of True Chosen One! (Chosen by the simulator algorithm, anyway.)

This post is just for y'all to let me know if you're interested, share the news with anyone you think might be interested, and let me know any thoughts or suggestions you have. If more than a few people are willing to at least throw a character into the ring (no writing necessary), then I'll soon tag interested folks with a post with more explanation on how to submit a character and what happens from there.

This is intended to be a somewhat more lighthearted, faster-paced WHG round, so there's no expectation of intense participation if this time of the year gets hectic.

[hirillaeriel]

Do Not Worry About Tomorrow

Fandom(s): Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion

Rating: PG13

Tags: foresight, death, canonical character death, Implied death, grief/mourning

Characters: Miriel, Nerdanel, Galadriel, Maglor, Maedhros, Elrond, Elros, and Gil-Galad

Trigger warnings: Death, suicide

“Worry does not take away tomorrow’s troubles, it takes away today’s peace.”

-Unknown

The ability to see the future is often seen as a gift. A gift to those who wield it. It is not. To see the future is a curse. To see those you love die is a fate far worse than most can imagine. To be able to see it and not be able to do anything about it, to never be able to see or say anything, is a fate worse than death. To see their smiling faces and know what dark fate they shall soon face. That is the worst experience.

Miriel did not have the gift of foresight, per say, but she did see the future. She was Doomed to weave the tapestries telling of the fate of her family. Miriel’s fate was a sad one.

She was Doomed to know, but never to help.

Nerdanel hated the so-called gift of foresight, or farsight as it sometimes came to be. She hadn’t always had it, she had been just a simple nis before her insane idiot of a husband swore that damn oath and drove their sons and grandson into the far east. She was only cursed afterwards. At first she saw it as a gift, the ability to see her sons, to watch over them. Then it became a curse. First she saw her husband's death and his dramatic display upon his death, then one by one she watched her sons die. It wasn’t always awful, she enjoyed watching her eldest raise the half-elf twins. She enjoyed seeing them have their moments of joy. Nerdanel hated watching her grandson die. By that point she had already started to go mad herself. One can only take watching the ones they love die so much before something in them cracks. Finally it was just her, her son, and Elrond for her to watch over. For a time there was peace. For a time she could heal.

She was Doomed to see, but never speak.

Galadriel quickly understood that her powers would be her Doom. Her powerful Osanwe and her Mirror, her curiosity would bring about only pain. She could see the future, see her friends die, but even when she tried to interfere nothing changed. Nothing ever changed. It was already set in stone, already put into action. She could do nothing except watch.

She was Doomed to know, but never touch.

Elrond and Elros were quiet children. They spoke little to those besides their mother. They were often found staring at people unnervingly. It was quite creepy how they looked at the stablehands like they were seeing the dead walking. For them they were.

They knew about the downfall of Sirion even at their young age. Unlike most with this Eru forsaken gift they had a natural proclivity to future sight. They were born with this ability. Elrond and Elros knew what would happen, knew these people would die, but did nothing. They intrinsically knew that they could do nothing. It didn’t stop them from caring. They still hated knowing that the nice baker that made them special cookies and snuck them some after dinner would die. They hated that the nice sailor that taught them to swim would drown in the very waters he loved. They hated it all.

Of course Elros hated the Fëanorians for making it happen, he hated his mother for forcing their hands, he hated Morgoth for stealing the damn things in the first place. Elros hated everything. He was an angry ellon. He was quick tempered and lashed out easily. He didn’t like that he couldn’t do anything. He hated being weak.

Elrond still hated these things, but he was calmer than his brother. He forgave easier and was more patient than his short tempered brother. He understood things quicker and made peace with the future quicker. Elrond hated being powerless to help. Instead of lashing out like his brother he sat down and learned. He loved learning. He hoped to be able to save someone someday.

Maglor found the twins adorable. Maedhros found them unnerving. Maglor said that they were just traumatized from the death they had witnessed, but Maedhros did not agree. They looked around with steely indifference. They moved through life as if already knowing what was to come with such certainty… Not even fully grown Eldar had such certainty.

Elrond had never tried to warn someone of their death before, but he had become attached. He tried to warn the brothers of what would happen. He tried to sway Maedhros into a better mindset, he tried to warn Maglor about what his brother would do, but it was for nothing. They still retrieved the Silmarils, They still burned themselves, and Maedhros still jumped into that fiery chasm.

Elrond hated what he knew his brother would choose. He didn’t want his brother to be mortal. He hadn’t exactly seen Elros’s choice, but he had seen the outcome, his death. He had watched that future play out and knew he couldn’t follow his brother down that path. He could, oh how he could, but no, no he couldn’t. He knew what the future held. The future needed him. It needed the people that his brother would sire. It needed them right where they were to go, but that didn’t mean it hurt Elrond any less to leave his brother.

Elrond had once told himself to not get attached, but he always found himself right back where he now was, yelling at his loved one about whatever stupid action would end up getting them killed. Of course no one ever listened. They never believed him. It was stupid. What was the use of seeing the future if he couldn’t help anything?

Elrond knew he probably shouldn’t be avoiding his king. He should be spending these last few moments with his friend. Enjoy them and use every moment he could, but he just couldn’t bring himself to look at Gil-Galad’s face after his latest vision.

“Elrond Peredhel.”

Elrond wanted to bolt. He wanted to flee from the pain.

“Elrond, please, just look at me. Why are you avoiding me? Did I say something? Do something? Please, just tell me so that I can fix it.” Gil-Galad pleaded. “I do not want to go into battle with such uncertainty and strife between us.”

Elrond looked down at the ground to avoid the inevitable action of looking at his friend. His soon to be dead friend. “It’s nothing you’ve said or done, my friend.”

“That’s good.” Gil-Galad sounded relieved. “So it isn’t me. Is there anything I can do to help you? You know I’d do anything for you, Elrond.”

“Everyone always says that, but they never see it through.”

“Whatever do you mean, mellon nin?”

“I’ve tried in the past, but they never listened. I tried to help, tried to stop them. I did, I swear I did. Yet they still left.”

“Left? I’m not going to leave you Elrond!”

Elrond looks back at him and Gil-Galad’s joyous grin falls. Elrond shakes his head.

“You’ve seen my death, haven’t you.”

Elrond nods.

“It’s inevitable, isn’t it.”

Elwond nods again.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me? Honestly, Elrond, I thought you were smarter than that!”

“Will you listen?”

“Elrond, mellon nin, even if you told me I’d still do it. If my death could save any number of people I’d do it over and over again. You know that to be true.” Gil-Galad cups Elrond’s cheek and wipes his tears away with his thumb.

Elrond sobbed. “I know.”

“Elrond, will you at least tell me this? Do we win?”

“Yes.”

“Then it will all be worth it. Do not lose all hope. We shall see eachother again someday. It is not all in vain. Now come, spend these last days with me. Tell me of what will come after my death, please. I would like to be happy if I am to die.”

“Please, stay back?”

“Elrond, I will not stand back and send my men into battle while I cower in my tent. You know I am not like that. If I am to die I will do so in battle with a sword in my hand, fighting against evil, not cowering like a dog.”

Elrond choked. “I just-”

“You don’t want to lose me. I understand. I love you, Elrond, you are my dearest friend. Now as my friend which would you have me do? Die a coward or go down fighting with my men and for what I believe in?”

“I’d rather you not die at all.”

“Elrond.”

“I’d rather you die fighting.”

“Good. Now I need you to understand that. I will never run away from a fight. I stand my ground, even in the face of certain death. I will take as many of those mad bastards down with me as I can.”

Elrond sighs. “Very well.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through this, Elrond. It isn’t fair.”

“Nothing is ever fair.”

Elrond made peace with the fact that the people around him would die. He lived with that knowledge, but he was put at ease with the fact that they’d go do fighting. They’d go do fighting for what they believed in and they’d take down as many of their enemies as they could before doing so. Elrond could live with that fact.

Elrond was Doomed to know, but to be at peace.

Arwen didn’t have as strong of foresight as her father or maternal grandmother. She couldn’t truly see much of anything, she just had feelings or would simply know something would happen. She wasn’t overly troubled with the knowledge of her peoples’ impending deaths. Arwen, unlike her father, didn’t truly have many to fear dying. She was born in a time of peace and even those years she lived through war she knew the tragedies that it would bring. When she saw into the future and saw the darkness, doom, and death she saw them for what they were. She had always had a more mortal mindset to such things. She saw past the despair and on towards the bright futures. Where her forebears just saw death she saw life.

Arwen was Doomed to see the darkness, but to understand.

[star-named-riddle]

Women of the House of Black Fest

Seeing how @womenofthehouseofblack has put together a very cool festival that happens to have fed my plot bunnies to the point of frenzy, and since shameless self-promoting of fics has been advocated for... here's a list of fics I wrote, in no particular order, about women of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

As always, please heed the tags and the warnings.

The Black Sisters

In your sleep you shed your armour - under 2K, T+

"Narcissa pushed the door to her sister's bedroom open to a bloodcurdling scream that made her cover her ears. She kept them covered as she assessed the scene before her. The screaming turned into loud sobbing, and Narcissa jumped to action." One shot, written for several prompts

The Flower Sister to His Star - 1.5K, T+

During the Spring of 1980, the Malfoys and the Lestranges assemble. Rodolphus recognizes someone's worth

To Not See and Dare, To Look Away and Lose - 3.5K, T+

During a birthday party at the Blacks, Andromeda decides to dare, and Bellatrix loses a sister anyway. Blind!AU

Narcissa

Preparing - 3K, T+

Lucius and Narcissa cuddle by the fire, making preparations for the arrival of their child.

Eden has fallen, but still I have you - 1.5K, T+

"This manor had once been their haven, but no more. They had invited the shadows in, and the monster had followed."

The Nurturing of a Flower - 3.5K, T+

"She will come home, my love," he whispers in her ear in the morning, "I will bring our sweet star of darkness back." The Malfoys kept a secret from Delphini, Lucius must deal with the consequences. Independent side piece to Birds become Dragons, reads as a one-shot. Also, written for several prompts.

Andromeda

I'd Rather Be Me - under 3K, T+

"The varnish cracked and the oil melted as she walked to the front door, and the figure of Andromeda disappeared at the end of the street as the portrait burned away." Andromeda sheds the name of Black

The World Crumbled Around Her - 2K, T+

At night, in Hogwarts, a wizard and a witch come together, only to show their true colours and shatter all they had.

As We Revolve Around the Sun - 1.5K, T+

The first year after the Battle, seen through Andromeda's eyes One shot, written for several prompts, set just after the war

Bellatrix

Icarus, perhaps Prometheus (no matter, the gods always come for you) - under 3K, T+

A day at the beach, and impending doom on the horizon

Better Half, Darker Half - 2.5K, M

Bellatrix and Rodolphus are a match meant to be, the perfect pair of servants to the Darkness, more so on a night to remember One-shot, set during the First Wizarding War, written for several prompts

So Be It - 3.5K, M

In an AU where the Augurey is born seventeen years earlier, a prophecy remains. Though some things shall never happen, the tally of death remains the same.

Pé na Tábua - 3.5K, T+

Bellatrix wants more from life and she has but one chance to get what she desires. She is not wasting it, so she must make an impression tonight.

And last but not least, for the Bellamort shippers

Harvest Moon - 3.5K, M

A very special birthday is celebrated during the First Wizarding War. Warning for explicit murder and torture of both adults and children, as well as a hint of lemon zest (It's Bellamort, people, what else)

in the smallest pieces (there was still us) - 5K total, T+/M

30 Bellamort little bits Prompts as chapter titles

There's no stopping your plans and those slow hands - 20K, M

AU! Arranged Marriage Bellatrix expected to be married to Rodolphus soon after graduation. However, a certain wizard has returned to Britain, and all that was planned is now uncertain.

[ufo-thetimesareripe]

Operation ShiftStorm is a go!

The UAP Disclosure Act (often referred to as the Schumer Amendment) has been dismantled due to pressure from various special interests. To view easy-to-read, highlighted text of the ACT as originally submitted by the Senate for inclusion in the FY2024 National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA) click HERE. Eminent domain, the Controlled Disclosure Plan, subpoena powers, the UAP Review Board and more have been removed from the ACT. Second hand sources have told PRG the new wording does call for classified material to be conveyed to the Senate Intelligence Committee. The final language of the Act will be available soon.

If passed and signed by the President, the Schumer Amendment would have been the fourth and final tranche of legislation establishing the legal structures necessary to deal with the immediate demands following confirmation by the President of the United States of a non-human (extraterrestrial) presence engaging the human race – Disclosure. The platform upon which the President would stand to make that confirmation would be constructed by promised, but long overdue, comprehensive UAP hearings before the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence.

Fortunately, the failure of the Schumer Amendment to make it into the NDAA in no way precludes those hearings. The individuals highlighted in the above graphic are the heroes of this saga. They are from left to right: Representatives Tim Burchett, Nancy Mace and Anna Paulina Luna who worked to hold the first UAP hearing in Congress since 1968 and place UAP language in the House FY29024 NDAA and Senators Michael Rounds, Kirsten Gillibrand, Marco Rubio, Mark Warner and Chuck Schumer who have sponsored UAP language in four successive NDAAs.

It’s time to manifest some activism focused on getting those hearings in January of 2024. How? It’s called a “Tweet Storm.” Given this is broader, we shall call it a “Shift Storm.” In 2014 a team on behalf of Paradigm Research Group pounded all 535 congressional offices with 2 million plus Tweets regarding the Citizen Hearing on Disclosure.

This Shift Storm focuses on just the offices of these three heroes: Senators Schumer, Warner and Rubio. Why? Collectively they have the power to schedule and hold the necessary Senate Intel Committee UAP hearings. Several dozen witnesses are ready to testify, and their testimony will set the stage for the President to formally end the Truth Embargo immediately. After that, the UAP Disclosure Act could be easily reconsidered and passed.

The goal is to deliver 100,000 tagged Tweets and 100,000 emails each to the offices of Senators Schumer, Warner and Rubio by January 1, 2024. The core message is appreciation for the UAP Disclosure Act and the imperative for UAP hearings in January before the Senate Intelligence Committee.

Tagged Tweets: they are Twitter posts that include the member’s Twitter handle. They end up in the member’s Twitter notification box monitored by staffers. Anyone in the world with access to Twitter can participate. Example: @senschumer I am disappointed with the final UAP language in the FY2024 NDAA. It is more in important than ever the Senate Intel Committee hold hearings no later than January for the powerful witnesses ready to testify.

Emails: All three members use forms that send messages to emails boxes monitored by staffers. Anyone in the world with access to the Internet and U.S. websites can participate.

Phone calls: PRG is not suggesting mass calls to these offices. It’s disruptive. But if you wish to make a call, the phone numbers are listed on the member’s websites.

Here are some Rules of Engagement: Keep in mind these Senators want Disclosure and sponsored the bill. They are the good guys.

Timing is now until January 1. Then we will reassess.

Do not lose focus by lobbying to change the language back in the NDAA. It’s settled.

No epithets, attacks, threats, rudeness – particularly on calls.

Do not convey the same message over and over (boiler plate) to the same office. Change the wording.

On calls don’t try to get to the chief of staff, aides, etc. Just give the message to the nice intern manning the phone. Don’t take too long.

With respect to Twitter tagging and emails, be relentless. Send as many as you can as many days you can, but change the message.

The tone should be strong, firm, serious, determined, committed, reasoned.

Help these three senators step into history. Share this site with your social media and email lists. Move this activist effort over to TikTok, Instagram, LinkedIn, et al.

Source: Reddit

[cherriready]

Among snakes I shall dance

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Targaryen!Fem!Reader

Next chapter

Summary: Rhaenyra's firstborn finds herself surrounded by the greens and, to her misfortune, betrothed to one of them. So she begins to plan how to take them down, one by one, from the inside.

Word count: 2.8K

Warning: Allusions to incestuous relationship (it's HOTD, come on!), use of obscene language (c-word used somewhere), some characters might be a bit out of character. And this is my fist time writing about GOT universe, so yeah :)

Tag list: Open!

Feedback is really appreciated! ❤️

"Do you want to execute the princess, the only daughter of Rhaenyra?" the queen asked incredulously, after standing up.

"Your Grace." The Master of Ships, Tyland Lannister spoke. "You must know that to leave her, her mother and bastard brothers and alive would be to jeopardise the integrity of yours son's reign."

"Let us not forget about Daemon either, I stress again." Otto dropped, running a hand through his beard.

"I will not allow you to execute the princess." Spoke firmly and sternly, Alicient. "Viserys loved his granddaughter in a very special way. I will not allow you to proceed with this absurd idea when my husband's corpse is not even cold yet. I will not let you sully his memory in this way. And whoever does so will be sent to the wall."

"You propose to let her go, my queen?" the Hand of the King asked, one eyebrow arched at his daughter. "Need I remind you that she is her mother's heiress? And that she, in turn, is just as dangerous? Any pretender to the throne can be a threat to your son."

"I propose something, an alternative that might work." Tyland Lannister spoke. "What if you marry her off to someone loyal to Aegon?" he proposed as he swept his gaze over everyone present.

"That would be a good alternative. The young princess is Targaryen and Velaryon, pure Valyrian blood unlike her brothers, she is the only one who resembles somehow to her late father, Ser Leanor. To betroth her to someone we trusts would do well." Grand Maester Orwyle commented with a nod, it seemed to be a great idea. "An advantageous marriage might prevent bloodshed, might even make her mother swear fealty to Aegon and bring them to kneel.”

"To whom would you offer the Red Mermaid’s hand, Grand Maertre?" Alicent asked once she stopped to think about the idea.

"You could betroth her to Lord Strong. Ser Larys is loyal to you, My Queen. To Aegon."

"I could betroth the princess." Tyland replied, a small smile plastered on his face. They all looked at him.

"That is a good offer, Ser Tyland, but I think Prince Aemond would be suitable." The smile that had been on the Lannister's face moments before was wiped away at those words. "He would know how to tame the young princess, who to our misfortune is as wild as her brothers and mother." Otto added the last with venom, who glanced at his daughter who was thinking about the whole situation.

"We would start, moreover, with the advantage that both of them were close in childhood." Orwyle spoke. "I propose, if we all agree, that the ceremony take place as soon as possible."

Alicent nodded. "We shall marry them right after Aegon's ceremony. By nightfall."

"It would also be advisable to have the princess present at the coronation. It would give a message of unity, so anyone loyal to Rhaenyra would think twice."

"Let there be no more talk. After Aegon's coronation, Prince Aemond and the Princess will be wed tomorrow before the day ends."

Once the green council had settled all the matters they had to deal with to carry out their plan, the queen, along with the company of Ser Criston Cole, went in search of the princess to let her know what would become of her. How before nightfall of the next day she would be married to her uncle, who in what seems to have been a past life, was a friend of hers.

"My queen." Said the young princess once she saw Alicent in front of her, bowing after addressing her. "I suppose you have come to give me the terrible news that my beloved grandsire has passed away." Spoke the silver-haired young woman with a soft tone.

"That is not the only reason I am here, my dear." The Hightower woman spoke as she approached her granddaughter-in-law with a sad smile.

The Queen looked at the you woman. She could clearly see that she had been weeping for hours over the pass of Viserys, who had been so important to her. Even though she had not been able to see her grandsire for the past six years, the two had been corresponding by letters weekly, which had made the bond between grandsire and granddaughter very close.

"I am so sorry for your loss." Spoke the young woman who stood by the window of her room, which overlooked the inner courtyard of the castle. She knew things were wrong when she saw the behaviour of the people in the castle different, as if they were following a protocol. Well, let's just say that Ser Criston Cole locking her in her room and the guards taking anyone who worked in the castle to the dungeons - where she supposed they were sent - were two other big signs.

"I too am sorry for your loss, sweet child." The queen murmured as she took the young woman’s hands for her attention. "There is something I must inform you of."

"What is it?" the young one looked at the Queen, once her mother's best friend and now her grandmother by marriage to Viserys.

"Viserys… before he passed away, he told me one thing." The brown-haired woman began to explain to the silver-haired. "He told me that his dying wish is that your uncle, Aegon, should succeed him as king."

The young princess shook her head in confusion. "Pardon me?" she asked with a frown, still showing signs of confusion. "It makes no sense at all. He made my mother his heir." Said the young woman turning away. "He wanted my mother to rule the kingdoms."

"It's true. He told me, he changed his mind, it was his dying wish. For your uncle to be the new king."

"Is that what you had to tell me, dear Grandmother?" The young woman asked as she folded her arms, still frowning, but this time she did not show confusion, if not displeasure. "Is that why I have been locked up all day? To keep me from running away? Or perhaps, to keep me prisoner and use me to your advantage and make my mother bow the knee to your son?" The young woman exclaimed in anger. "I will not allow my mother to kneel."

"They wanted to execute you." Alicent spoke calmly, resting her hand on her granddaughter’s cheek. "I have prevented it. But to avoid a war, we have made a decision, of which I have come to tell you."

The young Velaryon laughed cynically. "To keep me prisoner, I assume." She took a step back.

"Of course not."

"You are telling me I can go back to my mother, to Dragonstone? Or back to Driftmark where I am supposed to go with my Grandmother?" The young woman looked around and sighed. "Where is my grandmother? Princess Rhaenys. Do you have her locked up too? Or have you executed her already?"

"She is well. In her room, making a decision."

"I see." The young woman dropped into the chair next to the window. "Seven hells." She dropped her head into her hands. "So... can I go now? I mean, if I am not a prisoner, I would like to leave as soon as possible." She looked up and looked at the queen, who was staring out the window, in silence.

Alicent continued to stare out the window, until she turned silently, with a serious countenance, then broke the silence. "You're getting married. Tomorrow night, after Aegon's coronation."

Like her mother in her day, the young woman did not want to get married. She wanted to live her life freely, free of responsibilities and heavy burdens. In a way, because she knew she was not made to be a pretender to the Iron Throne, which had given her so many headaches throughout her life. She knew that her younger brother, Jace, would be a better candidate when the time came. That was why, the day before, after what had happened in the throne room with Veamond Velaryon, she knew she must speak to her mother before she went home.

"Mother, may I have a word with you, please?" The firstborn said to her mother, who was with Daemon, preparing to leave the red keep. They both looked at their daughter.

"I will leave you two alone." Said the Prince, preparing to give both women space.

"That's not necessary, Father." Daemon was not her father, but since Leanor's passing, he had taken it upon himself to play that role, protecting and thus teaching the young woman everything he knew of the world, from High Valyrian to how to fight with a sword. "I would like you to stay. Please."

"What's wrong, dear?" Rhaenyra said, approaching her daughter in fear that something bad had happened. "She took her daughter’s face, and could see sadness and uncertainty in her expression.

Daemon approached her as well, and placed a hand on her shoulder, a sign of support and encouragement for her to speak. "If someone has done or said something to you, tell me who it is and I will kill them. No hesitation, you know that.”

"Nothing bad has happened, everything is fine, really, father." she said with a small smile at her father's overprotective reaction. "I wanted to let you know before you leave…my intentions."

"Your intentions about what, my daughter?"

"I do not desire the Iron Throne, mother. I do not wish to be your heir." The young woman spat quickly. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint the person she loved most in the world. "Jace would be a better king. He should be your heir. I wanted to tell you, but... I didn't want to disappoint either of you. I- I'm sorry, mother. I'm not up to it." The young Velaryon girl burst into tears.

"You could never let us down, sweetheart. Never, do you hear me?" Rhaenyra hugged her daughter tightly. Daemon smiled briefly at her and stroked her long silver hair.

Alicent's words really did hit her like a bucket of cold water. "Of course I am not getting wed!" The girl exclaimed. "No."

"If for the sake of your family, you want to avoid a war and getting them all killed, that's what you have to do," Alicent spoke calmly, with a tone that sent shivers down her spine.

This could not be happening.

Fuck it all.

Fuck the greens and their manipulations.

Fuck Alicent Hightower and the snake she had for a father.

"And who is the highest bidder to whom you have sold me, my queen?" the Velaryon said the last with mockery. "Ser Larys Strong? Or perhaps Ser Tyland Lannister?"

"Aemond, of course. Your dear uncle."

"I-no... He's-"

"Ser Criston." Called the Queen to the new Commander of the Kingsguard, who until then had been on the other side of the door to the princess's chambers, waiting for Alicent.

"My Queen." Said the knight once he entered the room. He looked at the princess and gave a small bow with his head. "Princess."

"Ser Criston, escort the princess for a little stroll to the gardens. She's been cooped up here all day, I'm sure some fresh air will do her good."

"As you commanded, my Queen."

Great, we're going on a small trip with Cole. Sounds like fun.

Spoiler. No.

A few moments later, when the Queen had left the place, together with the Commander's company, the young Velaryon woman went for a walk, in silence, to the Red Keep’s gardens.

It was strange to be walking in the Keep at this hour. It was almost dark, everything was dark, there was hardly anyone in the there, only guards and a few servants going to their rooms. There was not as much light as she remembered from when she was younger, except for a few torches and candles.

No doubt, the Red Keep had changed, it was not the place she loved to be in her childhood. Now it was just a dreary, cold place, a memory. A shell of its former self.

"Enjoying the walk, niece?" A voice interrupted them.

"Uncle." The girl whispered as she saw her uncle leaning against a brick pillar.

"I suppose you have been informed of the great news by now, hm?" The young Prince took a sip from the cup in his hand.

"Yes." She said in a dry tone, as she watched his every move.

"It will not be so bad, do you think?" The silver-haired Prince arched an eyebrow, before taking a final sip from his cup and setting it down.

She watched as the cup fell to the ground and the noise it made when it made contact with it. The noise echoed down the hallway.

In a way, that was how she felt. As if she was falling and was about to make an impact with something that was going to end her.

She didn't know at what point he had approached, but now he was standing in front of her, a smirk plastered on his face. "Don't you think it is funny?" He asked her, she watched him. She noticed his features slightly illuminated under the torches. His eyepatch was what caught her attention the most. She thought about the sapphire that was underneath. "By this time tomorrow we will be married. We will be one before the gods." She looked at his only eye, his blue gaze attracted her, much to her dismay.

"Delightful." She snapped wryly.

"Don't take it like that, princess. We will have a good time, just like when we were kids."

Something about him was attracting her. She didn't know what it was exactly, but it was electrifying. She looked closely at his long, seemingly silky hair, his high cheekbones, his perfect nose. His lips. Those lips, which were quirked into a mocking smile.

"I would rather jump from the highest tower of the Keep, my Prince." That was what came from between the lips of the young woman, who feigned sweetness.

"Seven hells. You really feel like it, hm?" Aemond said as he took the young woman's chin and lifted her face, so that she would look at him. "It is alright. I am dying for it too." He whispered teasingly before placing a kiss on the young woman's forehead, as if this was a game. "Ser Criston."

"Yes, my prince?"

"Please take my betrothed back to her chambers. She must rest for tomorrow." The young Prince ordered.

"As you command." Replied the brown-haired knight at the young man's command.

"Good night, my dear. We have an exciting day ahead of us tomorrow."

That was when she made up her mind to send it all to hell.

If she was going to be surrounded by Snakes from now on, unable to be with her family, she was going to do everything she could to destroy them from the inside. Or at least try and enjoy the process.

After all, she was her mother's daughter. She wouldn't let them finish her off so easily.

"Fuck all of this, fuck this place. Fuck all of them." She whispered.

The commander heard her. "You could have your tongue cut out for saying that." Criston told her, as she was escorted on her way to her room.

"Would you do it yourself, Ser Criston?" The girl gave the knight a fleeting glance.

"If I were ordered to." He replied.

"Surely you would enjoy it, would not you?"

The commander frowned and gave the young woman a look full of anger and displeasure.

"This can stay between us, Commander. It could be our secret, one more we would have." The young woman paused as she almost reached the door to her quarters. "I know you loathe my mother, that you resent her and that if it were up to you she would be dead. I also know that you think the same of me. That I am a savage and perhaps a spoiled cunt, worthy daughter of my mother? Perhaps?"

"You should go inside your room, princess. You must rest."

"Yes, don't worry. But first I want to tell you one thing. As I have already told you, all this may be our secret." The Velaryon woman spoke as she finished heading to the door of her quarters, once she reached the door she looked at the knight. "Well. As I was saying, I know you hate my mother, and I also know why, because she supposedly made you break your vows, the ones you took when you entered the kingsguard, am I wrong?"

Cole took a breath, thus trying to control the anger he was beginning to feel at hearing the young woman's words. His knuckles were white now. “What are you trying to say?”

"You see I am also my father's worthy daughter. For that I think you should be glad, don't you think? After all, not many Commanders of the Kingsguard have a daughter who is a princess." The young woman opened the door to her room. "I'm going to get some rest now. Good night, Commander. Oh! My mistake - should I address you as father from now on?"

No doubt she was going to do her best to destroy them from the inside. One by one, if that wasn't too ambitious of her.

Anyway, she was going to try to enjoy the process.

Even if it ended with her.

[straykats]

☾⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: evening star ; one *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

⋆*･ﾟ story preview. ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

pairing(s): knight!chan x princess!reader, mage!minho x princess!reader

featuring: prince!hyunjin and others.

story summary: you were soon to be married to a well liked and noble prince from one of the wealthiest kingdoms. however, when the engagement ball takes a turn for the worst, you’re to try and reclaim your kingdom with the help of your knight and best friend chan, as well as the mage who you have a secret history with.

⋆*･ﾟ part one ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

wordcount: 12.2k

chapter warnings: mentions of war, fighting, swordplay, food, implied discrimination (re: human and those with magic)

note that these warnings are specific to this chapter. if you read something you think should be tagged, please send me a message/ask.

a/n: after almost two years of talking about it, she's here, everyone. i present to you: evening star, a story i've had in my head since i was a wee child (14, really) and that i have finally developed and put into words to share. special thanks to an anon - magenon (aka @kpop--etc) for your love for mage!minho. may you see his character soon, and may this live up to ur expectations hehe

---

m.list | one | two | tbc...

The last few rays of morning sunlight clear the trees, illuminating the east-wall of the castle in its entirety. Birdsong fills the air as you ascend the stone stairs at the back of the castle, the familiar back door nearing you. The strap of your small bag falls from your shoulder into your hands, and as you push the door open, it slides into the hands of another.

“Your highness, you really should let me accompany you on your…” Chan lets out a polite cough. “... Morning walks.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to wake you. Guarding me all day seems enough of a job.” You hide behind a small smile, but share a knowing glance with Chan as he slings the bag you’d handed him over his shoulder. A soft metallic clinking is all that hints at the contents of the bag. "Besides, I'd rather learn how to throw knives by myself. Not that you're a bad teacher, you're just very…"

"Overbearing?"

"Strict."

Chan shakes his head, locks of hair falling into his face, and follows you down the hall. You walk briskly, heading for your room. While it was no longer an unexpected occurrence, you were definitely going to be late for breakfast.

The walls were a tessellating arrangement of smooth stone bricks, unlit torches mounted at intervals. The windows - mosaics of yellows and reds and blues - let coloured light decorate the hall. Every few steps coats you in a new colour.

"The queen has a new tapestry she'd like to have." Chan's eyes dart to the side, preparing himself to catch a glimpse of any funny faces you'd make. "She asks that you be the one to embroider it."

You take a deep breath.

"I shall embroid it-" you enter your room with huff of annoyance. "-In my dreams. My fingers tire from the detail!"

Chan lingers outside the door, left slightly ajar. "And yet you fling knives like a madwoman."

“Say that any louder, will you…” Your words are grumbled under your breath as a maid comes to you and helps you change into proper breakfast attire “Mother will have me locked up in my room if she found out I was interested in such things.”

As worried as you were about your mother finding out, you trusted those who attended to you to keep your secrets. They had done so for the last few years, turning a blind eye to your hobbies.

“Then we best not let her find out, no?”

As you exit your room, Chan gives you one of the charming smiles he had used on the cooks when you were kids, stealing apples to feed animals in the woods. He had always had a charm about him - a trustworthiness and honest demeanour that you, quite frankly, utilised for your own advantage a bit too much.

“It’s not like I plan on joining the royal army, or wield swords and axes!” The image was enticing, the way that reading a novel about being a hero and saving the world was enticing, but you wouldn’t let Chan know that. He barely approved of you riding your horse alone, let alone handle knives. He compromised with ensuring that he watched over you as often as he could. “But that aside, are you attending the ball tonight?” You glance over at Chan as you exit your room, the day dress heavier and more shape-conforming than the one you had snuck out in. It was a comfortable fit, though. Nothing like the formal ball attire you were to wear later. “You won’t leave me to be waltzed away by the prince's men, will you? Not that he's too bad himself. Good company, he is.”

"Then stay by his side all night, not mine," Chan murmurs. He leads you down winding stairs and hallways, murmuring nonsense about how it was expected of you to honour guests with a dance.

"Oh, so you'd let people other than him waltz me away?" You come to a stop in front of large wooden doors and fix Chan with a challenging look.

He rolls his eyes, and with a push of his shoulder, the doors swing open.

The dining hall was one of the larger rooms in the castle, but it seemed nothing compared to what you had heard about the dining halls in the other castles and palaces across the land. The ceiling was high, wooden beams arching over your head like a map. A large window allowed for natural light to pour in over the dining table, at the end of which you found your mother, already seated. Never, in all your years of living in the castle, had you seen all the chairs occupied for any meal.

“Yes, because then I’d finally have some freedom,” Chan replies as you step past him and into the dining hall. The smell of freshly baked pies and sweet pastries made your mouth water.

“Mother! Did you hear that?”

The queen’s laugh echoes out across the dining table. “Which means you’d finally be married, y/n, dear."

You let out a childish pout, walking to take your seat at the table. Chan stays by the door with his head bowed politely.

The table had been laid with a variety of food - pastries and fresh bread, fruits and jam-filled desserts. You reach for a sugar-dusted scone.

“Will Prince Hyunjin be joining us for breakfast?" The queen looks between you and Chan. "I was hoping to talk to him before tonight."

"The prince left early this morning with his men, your majesty," Chan reports. "He has gone for a ride through the forest."

Your brows furrow, and you turn to Chan. "Really? I didn't see him while I was out- While I was watching the sunrise."

Chan manages to conceal his amusement at your slip up. "He said he will be back before noon, so there is no need to wait for him this morning."

"What a shame," the queen sighs. Your words had not seemed to strike her as odd, thankfully. "He's a fine young man and makes delightful conversation. I can't say his stay the last few months hasn't been pleasant. Aren't you glad your marriage will be to someone like him? I don't know what I'd do if he was as nasty as his father..."

The pastries were suddenly very interesting to you; who came up with these recipes? And the designs on the pies too. You busy yourself trying to look for jam to put on your scone.

It wasn't that you were opposed to your marriage. On the contrary, you were glad it was to Hyunjin. The queen was right - he was all a prince should be. Nothing like his father. The king of the northern kingdom was terrifying, and you had heard stories of is conquests and accomplishments. It was almost unbelievable that Hyunjin was his son.

The engagement to the northern prince was to be publically annonced tonight, though many already knew of the understanding between the two of you. A politcal marriage to strengthen your kingdom. It was nothing out of the ordinary, your mother had told you. Her marriage had been the same, and her love for the late king no less stronger and truer than any other love.

"What are your plans for the morning then, y/n? If the prince is out..."

Letting out a thoughtful hum, you take a bite of your scone. Chan’s words float through your mind.

"The queen has a new tapestry she'd like to have. She asks that you be the one to embroider it."

“If you’re not busy, you should join me in my-”

“Chan and I were just talking about going into town today. A change of scenery would be good,” you lie. “Isn’t that right, Chan?”

It was only because you had known him so long that you notice how he stiffened under his layers of clothing and armour, dragged into your lie. He clears his throat, turning to fully face your mother. “I have agreed to accompany her into town if the princess wishes to go. Of course, that would be only with your permission, your majesty.”

The queen’s eyes jump between you and Chan, no doubt trying to figure out if this had truly been something you had been talking about or if you had just dragged Chan along with you.

With a defeated sigh, she nods. “I suppose I should let the two of you do as you wish before it gets too busy around here. Besides, it’s not like me saying no has ever stopped you before,” she adds with a fond smile, and Chan has the decency to look sheepish. You, on the other hand, avoid your mother’s eyes as you remember some grand escapes Chan had helped you scheme. “Do return in time to prepare for the ball. And don’t drag the poor boy around with you all day, y/n. I’m sure he has his own preparations to do.”

“Maybe he hopes to find someone’s hand in marriage,” you tease, and see Chan hastily turn away. “A true knight in shining armour. Aren’t I right, mother?”

The queen shakes her head with a small smile and stands.  “I must be off and see to the preparations. I leave her in your care, Chan.”

“Of course, your majesty.”

As the door shuts behind the queen, Chan shoots you a glare.

“What? You did say this morning that you’d like to accompany me on my walks,” you say innocently. A maid comes and clears the queen’s plates. You catch her glancing at Chan, her cheeks dusted pink. Oh, how entertaining it was to see everyone so infatuated with him. If only they knew how grumpy he could get, how strict and overprotective he could be-

“You made me lie to the queen. We aren’t kids anymore, you know.” His body falls lax and he leans against the wall. “But what’s done is done, I suppose”

“Oh, don’t make it sound like a grave mistake.” You toss him an apple, which he catches. He eyes it warily - did he think you’d poisoned it or something? - before taking a bite. “But anyways, it would be nice to go into town, no? We haven’t been in a while.”

“We went three days ago.”

“See? A while.”

He sighs, before taking another chunk out of his apple.

—

The castle, situated at the top of a hill, has a small winding path that leads into town. The wind kisses your cheeks as you ride down with Chan, the both of you on your horses. Chan rides close to you, his eyes constantly on the lookout for danger.

It’s a pleasant ride, made even more relaxing by the fact that just for this small descent down, you didn’t need to be a princess. You could just be you. Just y/n, with no maids around her, no stone walls to remind her that she lived guarded, no responsibilities for her to bear.

Not that Chan, riding by your side, ever forgot his responsibilities.

“When we get into town, please do not stray from my side, your highness.”

You raise your brows in disbelief. “No one’s going to attack me, Chan. Besides, I think it’s you who might be attacked.”

“Me? By who?” His obliviousness was clear in his voice, laced with worry and alert at what seemed to be a potential threat.

“Oh, just the husbands of all the women in town.” You shrug nonchalantly, waving a hand in the air. “You’re being modest. Surely you know how the ladies all look at you. And dear, the poor maids in the castle, seeing you almost everyday.”

It’s hard to not turn around when you hear his flustered protests.

The sun is high up in the sky by the time you and Chan enter the town. The day was well underway, people bustling about with their business. Chan had abandoned the idea of riding his horse, and now walked in front of you. The reigns of your two horses dangle from his hands, swaying steadily with every step.

Many had stopped to stare as you and Chan passed - although you were crownless and Chan wore the bare minimum armour, the sight of the two of you was enough to catch the people’s eyes. Many bowed, recognising you, and the occasional child ran up to give you a flower. Some simply ran up to pat the horses - something that Chan had once found a little unbefitting for royal stallions.

“Your highness, come see our goods! Perfumes that will last the entire day with only one spray!”

“Sir, come look at our flowers! Their beauty is second only to the princess, but their ability to woo second to none!”

“Princess, princess!” A group of children run up to your horse, and Chan comes to a stop as they flock around you. He offers a hand to assist you down, which you take gratefully. After years of riding in dresses, it still took great effort to not step on your skirt and trip when dismounting your steed.

The children bombard you with questions - Was the man with you a prince? Where was your crown? Could they visit the castle? Could they marry you? Did you have a dragon in the dungeons?

"No, not in the dungeons," you laugh. "Perhaps there's one in the mountains, though. High up, where no one can see them."

Wide eyes meet yours, mouths open in shock.

"Princess, my father said that if I don't listen to him, the knights will come and throw me in the dungeons! Is that true?"

It was your turn to be surprised, and you let out a laugh. "Well dear me, why don't you ask this knight here?"

Chan crouches down to the children's height, his face grave. "We have a special cell for children. Filled with pixies that will tie your hair in knots, and goblins that will gobble you all up!"

Squeals of laughter fill the air as Chan chases the kids around, tickling whoever he caught. It was a heartwarming sight to watch.

Chan had grown up in the castle alongside you - his father having served the king. It had always been the two of you in the castle, two children who didn't seem to care for their differing ranks. Then the two of you grew older, the importance of your respective roles highlighting the differences in who you were, in the parts you played. While you were learning about the politics and history of your kingdom, Chan was learning about strategies and how to assess the battlefield. While you learnt proper etiquette and the finer arts, Chan was brandishing a sword, learning how to best fight and protect the kingdom and people he loved.

Your separate ways had left you both feeling rather isolated - children expected to be more than children, roles and titles much too large for them to carry at the time. With the rising sun came the responsibilities you were to carry out, and with the waking stars came each other, and the chance to be children once more.

To see him now, playing and laughing with the children made your heart hurt. The life the two of you had lived thus far was far better than that of many others, you had learnt, but it had also come with a loss of childhood and freedom.

Leaving Chan with the laughing children, you turn to admire the shops around you. Chan was surely going to chide you - "please do not stray from my side," he had asked of you. A simple request that he surely knew would be impossible for you to keep.

You never walk far, always keeping Chan in your sights. At some point, he does realise you're gone, and you catch him scowling at you, a child hanging off each of his arms. You weren't sure if he was scowling because you were enjoying fruit tarts without him, or because you had disobeyed his orders (although realistically, they weren't orders, right? It was merely a request, and besides, he was in no position to give you orders).

You're admiring a flower stall when Chan makes his appearance by your side.

"The children told me to tell you they said goodbye, and to invite you to their wedding," he informs you.

"Well," you sigh, fingers brushing along the petals of some tulips. "The prince and I will be having a procession tomorrow. And again, probably, after the wedding. But it's to be held in the north, so I guess the children will have to make do with the engagement procession."

Chan seems to have frozen, a strange calmness having washed over him. You don't seem to notice, however, your mind suddenly filled with thoughts about the engagement.

The ball, in reality, wasn't too much of a big deal. There were only going to be slight differences to the norm, such as the announcement that you were to be married, and the fact that you were expected this time, more than others, to dance with everyone, and that everyone was going to fuss over you more than normal, and that Chan was probably not going to be with you.

It was too big of a ball for him to spend all night near you. There were periodic checks he was expected to lead, for he was, after all, more than just your personal bodyguard. He was the Captain of the Guard, in charge of security for not only the castle, but the kingdom.

There was also the dance with Hyunjin that was to take place near the end of the ball. No one else was to dance at that time, and the two of you were to be admired - the future king and queen of the northern and western kingdoms.

A tap on your shoulder brings your attention back to the present, your vision suddenly bombarded by the abundance of colourful flowers which you had blurred out while deep in thought.

Chan is watching you with a peculiar look in his eyes, the hand that had tapped you still extended.

"We should start making our way back. Noon is not far, and you've still to meet with the prince before tonight."

"Ah, of course." Shooting the stall owner a final smile, you follow Chan away as he leads you to wear he had left the horses. They had been tied to a post, near where you had last seen Chan with the children.

After untying the horses, he ensures that all the straps of the saddles were still fastened securely and helps you up your horse before mounting his own stallion. Hands on your reigns, you're about to start the journey back up to the castle when Chan speaks up.

"Princess, before we set off-"

You turn in your saddle to face Chan, who was fiddling with his saddle bag. He pulls out a single, white flower. How you had not noticed it this entire time (and how he had kept it from being crushed), you have no idea. He brings his horse next to yours, and presents the flower to you. His eyes meet yours for the briefest of seconds before falling on the flower once more.

"For you, your highness. A gardenia, for the most beautiful and most gentle princess this kingdom will see."

It’s such a Chan thing to do that you can't help but smile. But why does he seem so nervous? And if it was such a Chan thing to do, why is your heart feeling the way it was? You're almost certain that he lets out the smallest of breaths when you take the flower from him, tension previously unnoticed now leaving his shoulders.

"The most gentle? Did you forget the whole knife throwing?" You murmur just loud enough for him to hear. Lifting it close to your face, you breath in the soft fragrance of the flower.

Chan, having seemed to return to his normal self, meets your gaze with a theatrical look of confusion. "What knife throwing?"

—

There are a group of men in the process of dismantling their horses when you and Chan arrive back at the palace. You recognise the red capes of the northern kingdom, one of which was embroidered with fine golden details.

Hyunjin swings down from his horse, his skill evident in the fluidity of his movements. He turns to talk to his men, laughing with one in particular and even giving him a friendly shove.

"Ah, the dashing prince has returned." Chan eyes the group of red-caped men as the two of you trot through the castle gates, his smile tight-lipped as the men turn at the sound of your arrival. “And with quite the envoy, for a simple morning ride.”

"If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought you were jealous," you laugh, drawing a tired sigh from Chan. "Do I look alright, though? The wind hasn't made a monster of me, has it?"

As stable boys come towards the pair of you, Chan dismounts his stallion. Had he a cape, he would have rivaled Hyunjin in elegance.

"Don't go demanding for my head now," he starts, helping you down. "But I'm sure your appearance is the last thing on the prince's mind."

"Right, nothing like an arranged marriage, an engagement ball, the union of two kingdoms and the duties that come with becoming king to keep one distracted," you mumble under your breath, taking his offer of support down. If Chan wasn't insisting on you going to get cleaned up, then you must not look all that bad, right?

You can hear Chan talking to someone as you pat down your skirt. Thankfully, it was void of any dirt and lacked too many noticeable crinkles.

A pair of black riding boots come to a stop before you, and you look up to see the prince, a gracious smile on his face. He was undeniably handsome, and his dark hair, grown to his shoulders, somehow added to his regal appearance. He had told you in the past that his father thought it effeminate and unbecoming for a prince of the most powerful kingdom.

It suited him though, you thought.

You curtsey, one leg behind the other and a respectable bow of the head. “Your highness, how was your morning ride?”

“My morning was quite well, thank you very much.” He eyes something just to the side of your head, and it takes you a moment to remember that you had tucked the gardenia behind your ear for fear of crushing it in your saddle bag. “A beautiful flower for a beautiful princess, I see.”

Quickly taking it out from behind your ear, you twirl it gently between your fingers. “It was a gift. From Chan.”

Why did you feel a little guilty telling Hyunjin this? Is a flower from a friend not a normal thing? And besides, you were sure Hyunjin knows Chan well enough to know that the two of you were just friends. There was no possibility of him thinking that Chan was... making advances, was there?

“Ah, I see...” Hyunjin’s eyes drift from the gardenia to somewhere behind you, an amused and curious shine to his eyes. A huff of laughter passes his smiling lips before he extends an arm towards the castle - an offer for you to come with him. “But anyhow. Shall we?”

You turn to say goodbye to Chan, but he is some distance away, already surrounded by men to whom he was giving orders. He must already be starting to plan for the security tonight, you think with a sigh.

You turn back to Hyunjin, and with your smile as a sign of confirmation, he starts to walk. You fall into step besides him, the two of you walking at a leisurely pace.

He takes you through the castle, and your footsteps echo back at you. Hyunjin smiles at everyone he passes, and you notice the maids acting the same way they do when Chan was around. You hide a small smile.

Chan had some competition.

Hyunjin leads you through the palace as if he was the one who lived here - after the few months he had spent here, he had become well accustomed to the many passages. While you had done your best to fulfil the role as his guide, he had taken it upon himself to wander the halls whenever he could. This had resulted in a number of incidents whereby you had run into him peering helplessly around corners, his face contorted in worry and regret.

“I tend to get lost easily,” he told you the third time you had found him in a deserted corridor. “I find that when I explore places by myself, I can become more familiar with the area.”

“And has that helped you navigate the castle any better, your highness?”

He had let out a nervous laugh at your question. “Well, normally there are people around so that I can ask for general directions, but somehow I keep ending up in the most abandoned halls here.”

Those very same halls were now filled with the castle’s staff. They carried handfuls of tablecloths, of roses and other decorations. Some pushed trolleys stacked with silverware, polished so that they glittered under the light of the sun.

You stop a passing girl and ask her to take the gardenia to your room.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t join you and her majesty for breakfast.” Hyunjin breaks the tranquil silence that had rested between the two of you. “I had some... I had a matter, if you will, that I wanted to attend to before seeing you.”

“Mother was rather looking forward to seeing you,” you confess, more to tease him than to make talk. “But she will have plenty of time to talk to you at the ball tonight, your highness.”

“Please, you know I don’t mind you calling me by name. The formalities can be left for formal occasions.” He carries on another few steps silent, before letting out a sigh. “I do hope she doesn’t ask me too many questions about the future. She’s a very... motherly queen, if I may say so.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Are not all mothers motherly?”

It takes only a few seconds for you to realise that you shouldn’t have asked that question.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume-”

“No, it’s quite alright.” He waves away your fluster. “My mother seems to have outgrown her motherly demeanour, is all. After the war... She was different. A lot more like my father,” he bitterly explains. His face had fallen, and you’re surprised by the unguarded look in his eyes. “They are still my parents, of course, and the king and queen... but mother used to be like first spring, filled with warmth and- well, I’m used to it now.” Hyunjin bites his lip, confliction in his face despite his words. “I’m sorry, to have suddenly said all that.”

You shake your head. “Please don’t be. It is good for me to understand you and your family, and for you to be able to confide in me.” He doesn’t reply, and you can almost feel his thoughts flooding his brain. While he had been walking before with his shoulders back and head up - the walk of royals that had taken you longer than necessary to perfect - he now walked with the air of someone who was unaware of their surroundings, his eyes clouded over with thoughts you could only guess the contents of. Unsure if you should interrupt the prince’s thoughts, you walk silently by his side.

All is well until Hyunjin rounds a corner and crashes into someone, sending up exclamations of surprise.

“What the- Your highnesses!”

A young knight bows so low, so quickly that both you and Hyunjin reach out instinctively to catch him, thinking that he had fallen forward. Quickly realising that he was not about to fall over, you share an embarrassed smile and quickly compose yourselves.

The boy raises his head, and a fond smile falls upon your face.

“Jeongin, I thought you were with Chan?”

He shakes his head. “I was in the library, reading up on some weapons. Why are your highnesses headed towards the library?” he asks before he can stop himself. He winces, his face scrunching up in embarrassment. “Sorry, please forget I asked-”

“Is that where we’re headed?”

You turn to see Hyunjin, eyes wide with shock.

“Y-Yes, the library is just down this hallway,” Jeongin explains, confused. “Were... you not headed there, your highness?”

“It is,” you lie. In all honesty, you had no idea where the prince had intended to go. “You should get going now, Jeongin. Chan has already started giving out the orders for tonight.”

The boy’s face pales, his eyes turning into saucers. “I’ll- I’ll take my leave then! Good day, your highnesses!”

He sets off at a fast pace, and when he near the end of the corridor, bursts into a run.

“So, where are we supposed to be headed?” you ask Hyunjin once the boy is out of sight

Hyunjin brings a hand up to over his face. The tips of his ears, poking out from under his hair, are pink. “The garden...” He lets out a defeated sigh. “I was so sure I’d gotten it right.

You wanted to reassure him, or to make a joke to ease his embarrassment, but you couldn’t quite find the words. And besides, he had seemed rather distracted, but that seemed an even worse thing to bring up. So instead, you start to walk in the right direction

Luckily, Hyunjin hadn’t gone to the wrong side of the castle. He had simply taken the wrong turn.

“So what are we doing, headed to the garden?”

“Is it not a nice day for a stroll outside?” Hyunjin gives you an innocent smile, head tilted slightly so that a lock of hair falls loose.

While he isn’t wrong, you get the feeling that he’s not being entirely honest. The two of you had both had your fair shares of being outside for the day.

But it mattered not, you suppose, whether or not Hyunjin was hiding something. You trusted him enough to know that he wasn’t about to abduct you.

It takes but a few short minutes to reach one of the doors that lead to the gardens. The wooden door, with it’s spiraling black metal designs, had always reminded you of something out of a storybook. Hyunjin works the lock and pushes the door open.

A cooling breeze hits you, and you breathe in the fresh air.

Stepping out first, Hyunjin offers you a hand to assist you down the stone steps. You take it, and step out onto the garden’s stone path.

The garden, with it’s maze-like arrangement of rose bushes and hedges, had always been a favourite place of yours. Countless days had been spent out here with Chan, hiding from the maids (oh, the stress you had caused the staff then) and reading through the library’s many books. The stone path winded around the gardens, encircling the centre pavilion. Archways were placed around the vast area, and in the spring, the vine growth blocked the sun, making for a magical walk.

“Do you think I’d get in trouble if I pick a flower?” Hyunjin asks rather seriously. “What if the royal gardener holds a grudge forevermore?”

“He might decide to give your hair a trim,” you reply just as seriously. “Chan and I used to pick the flowers al the time. Unfortunately, Chan always got in more trouble than me.”

Hyunjin, who had started walking, let out a laugh, nodding. “Changbin - one of my men. You know him, right? How he came to agree to be my personal guard is a wonder to all. He took the fall for many of my acts when I was younger."

It was your turn to laugh now. Of all of the men who had accompanied Hyunjin, Changbin was the one who you had spoken to the most. When surrounded by others, he was silent and watchful, like he was always on guard. At times, he seemed like his sole purpose was to keep Hyunjin safe (which you suppose it was), but whenever you catch them alone, he seemed more like the only friend Hyunjin had. Like an older brother, of sorts.

The thought makes your heart heavy. While one a princess and the other a prince, both of differing kingdoms, there were some similarities between you and Hyunjin.

“He seems fiercely protective of you, Changbin.”

A sad smile forms on the prince’s face. “It is his job, after all. In all honesty, I feel that I’ve taken his freedom away from him. He could have declined the offer, taken any other position, but he chose to stay with me. I’m forever grateful, of course. I wouldn’t have rathered anyone else, but... it is a tiring job.”

You want to speak up, to reassure him that you’ve seen the way Changbin acts around Hyunjin. Just as Hyunjin wouldn’t prefer anyone else to guard him, Changbin wouldn’t prefer anyone else to guard.

“But I could almost say the same for Chan.,” Hyunjin continues before you can say anything. “Though, he seems to rather enjoy his job.”

Birds twitter overhead, capturing your attention briefly before you answer his question.

“Oh, dear me, I hope he does. We’ve been friends since childhood,” you explain, hand trailing gently over the hedges as you walk. “I don’t think anyone else was ever considered for the position. Two peas in a pod, we were, so it seemed natural for him to be my guard.”

“Do you have any regrets?”

You did.

“Do you- Do you ever wonder if Changbin will be happy in the future? Because I worry that Chan will always put me before him.” You had stopped walking. Hyunjin, noticing your absence by his side, turns to face you. “Chan is... almost devoted to me. I think that us having grown up together, he has this sense that it is his duty, given or not, to protect me. I fear that he will never be able to live freely, live happily, without me. But there must come a time when even he wants to- to move on, right? To find someone to love, to do something for himself and not for me?”

Hyunjin is looking at you with a mix of confusion and puzzlement, and you could almost see the cogs turning in his head. Had you asked such a strange question that it required so much thought?

After a moment, Hyunjin shakes his head. “Y/n, I think Chan is very aware of what he’s doing-”

“Exactly-”

“-and so you shouldn’t worry about him,” Hyunjin finishes, a soft, sympathetic smile on his face. “I understand your worry, and can see how much you care for him. While I do not know him as well as you do, I do know men, and I can tell what type of person Chan is*.* So I promise you, you have nothing to worry about.”

Unsure of what to make of Hyunjin’s words, your mind scrambles for something to say.

“Now, I don’t mean to dismiss your concerns, but I do have something to show you.” He extends an arm once more, this time towards you.

It almost feels like he wanted to move on from this whole conversation - maybe he regretted asking that question - but try as you might, you can’t find anything other than sincerity in his face. He’s almost radiating a childlike excitement - a pure type of joy and sense of accomplishment. So you take his arm, letting him guide you through the garden.

As you near the pavilion, he finally speaks up.

“Do you remember when I said I had a matter to attend to before seeing you?”

Stepping up into the pavilion, you nod. Hyunjin, standing right in front of you, blocks your way to the table at the centre. The childlike demeanour he had carried on the short walk, while still evident in his eyes, seems now to have dulled. His hands were by his side, his thumb running over the nail of his index finger, and while subtle, you could tell he was biting on his bottom lip.

“Well, I- There are some things that I wish to tell you. Things that I feel should be said before we publicly announce our engagement tonight,” he explains. It was endearing to watch - his nervous habits were on full display, but his voice was steady. The voice of a prince, of a future ruler. “And I was thinking of how I should go about it, and... Well, this is it,” he finishes, and steps aside.

At the centre of the pavilion, set in the middle of the table, was a vase of roses. The glass vase was nothing spectacular itself, but the whites and yellows of the bouquet warmed your heart. You recognised the roses, and you were fairly certain those were lilies, though you only recognised them from illustrations you had seen in books. There were a handful of others that you couldn’t name. They lured you in, an arrangement of whites and yellows and blues. Their pristine condition hinted at magic preservation, but how Hyunjin had found someone that could wield magic was a mystery to you.

In awe, you approach the table and reach out, pulling a rose up to smell.

“They’re beautiful,” you breath. “But whatever for?”

Hyunjin walks up next to you, hands behind his back. “The bellflowers - campanula - mean gratitude. Alstroemeria - lillies that symbolise a strong bond, or friendship. And roses - pale pink for adoration, and yellow for friendship.”

Your eyes brush over the flowers once more, Hyunjin’s words settling into your mind. He clears his throat, drawing your attention to him. Hyunjin stands tall, and although his eyes seemed nervous and his he inhales shakily, the words that follow are strong and sincere.

“I know this is out of place and shouldn’t be something we talk about, but I just- I want you to know that I consider this a marriage to a friend.” He pauses, and you feel his eyes search your face for any sign that you want him to stop. “I know that in time, you may very well win over my heart in the way that is expected of you, but for now, you have simply won over the heart of a friend. While our marriage is one for the benefits of our people, I am glad to know that my future queen is a good person.”

To your surprise, the words relieved you. You had known that you harboured little to no romantic feelings towards the prince before you, and you hadn’t expected Hyunjin to have romantic feelings for you either, but to hear him say all that he had said made you feel like an unknown weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

The wind was suddenly more refreshing, the afternoon sky a little clearer and brighter.

“I am glad that we share the same sentiment.” You give Hyunjin a smile, which he returns with relief. “But what of true love? You strike me as someone who, despite their position, dreams of the type of love found in fairytales.”

He flushes, but maintains his composure. “As royals who have the lives of many in our hands, there are things we must be willing to sacrifice. But at least it’s not all that bad,” he adds with a gentle smile, then bows, a leg extended back and an arm across his chest. “As I said, I am glad that the marriage is to you, your royal highness.”

It catches you off guard, the sudden formalities of it all. Whatever had happened to ‘keep the formalities for formal occasions’? But the words and his small gesture fill you with a new hope and respect for him. So you too return the gesture, one leg crossing behind the other as you bend down.

“And I to you,” you reply.

—

The gardenia from Chan lay on a table at the centre of your room. Next to the gardenia is the bouquet that Hyunjin had gifted you, its condition the same as it had been that afternoon. You had wanted to ask Hyunjin whether or not a spell had been casted on the bouquet, but it did not seem a relevant thing to bring up, and even more so, it seemed a strange thing to ask.

Magic was not uncommon, and there existed a small number of establishments in your kingdom that provided magical solutions to those who wanted it. Simple potions and tonics, made from notes of past ancestors. There were many who had magic in their blood, but lacked the means to cultivate it.

It was understandable, though. You remembered a night long ago, moon full and shining behind a boy. You knew that those who could wield magic were looked down upon. Warlocks, witches, mages. Whatever title they wished to claim made no difference, for it was a fundamental fact that they were part demon. One human parent, one demonic parent.

As a result, the magic populace was often concentrated in a single area of a kingdom. There were some villages and towns that were solely occupied by magic wielders, and even less where magic and non-magic folk coexisted.

Memories of the stories you had heard in your childhood bubble to the surface as your lady in waiting pulls at the strings of your corset. Your eyes had fallen upon a silver dagger - ornamental, with an etching of a star at the base of the blade. It hung on your wall, angled as if it was supposed to cross over something.

“Your highness, your arms please.”

Blinking thoughts of magic and daggers out of your mind, you raise your arms, allowing your dress to be pulled up. It tightens around your chest, the additional pressure causing you to straighten your back. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror.

A proper princess; a queen to be.

The bodice, laced at the back, has carefully placed flowers that trail down the tulle skirt. The attention to detail was so extraordinary that at first you had thought they’d used real flowers. Embellished with small gemstones that glittered under the light, the flowers seemed like they were enchanted.

It was almost hard to believe that, for a long while, this would be the last ball you have in your home.

A knock on your door draws your attention away from your reflection.

“Who is it?”

“Me,” replies Chan’ familiar voice.

Your lady in waiting, having finished lacing up the back of your dress, steps away. With a bow of her head, she retreats to the door.

Her company is replaced by Chan's.

“Are you already finished-” Chan cuts off at the sight of you, frozen near your door.

You turn to face him, relishing in the beauty of the dress and how magical it made you feel. The movement flares the skirts out, and you feel like the breath had been knocked out of you.

“Yes, I’m already finished! Isn’t this dress wonderful, Chan?”

Perhaps it was the adrenaline in your veins from knowing what tonight meant, or the new found relief resultant of your talk with Hyunjin, or maybe it was just the beauty of the dress - you had no idea, for you had attended countless balls before and worn countless beautiful dresses. but nothing had ever made you feel quite like this.

You continue to twirl in place, to mimic dancing with a partner, your heart light with joy and amazement. There must have been something in the air to make you feel so happy, so relaxed about tonight. Whatever it was (if there was anything at all), you were so distracted you miss the way Chan’s watching you.

He’s watching you like you were the only thing in the room, a masterpiece made by some heavenly being. You were beautiful, so captivating and so bright with a new found light - the cause of which Chan couldn’t quite figure out - that he couldn’t seem to look away.

A childish giggle escapes your mouth, the sound of your laughter snapping Chan out of whatever daze he had gotten himself into.

“Sorry, I’m not quite sure what came over me,” you say, apologetic smile on your face. “You look dashing, Chan. A knight in shining armour.”

He gives a theatrical bow. “Nothing like wearing my uniform on the night of your engagement ball, your highness.”

Your Highness.

It wouldn’t be long until your title changed. Your majesty, you would soon be called.

The fact washes over you like stale air, dulling the buzz in your veins.

“Chan, come here.”

The softness of your tone hangs in the empty air, causing Chan to look up curiously. Such change in demeanour - what could have possibly caused it?

“Is something the matter?”

He walks towards you, each step echoing dully. When he’s within arms range, you look up. He’s offering you a smile, though you can tell his eyes are searching for the source of your sudden change. He had always been so kind, always looked out for you. He was loyal, dutiful. Always caring for you, worried you would hurt yourself, worried that you would feel lonely. Wasn’t it cruel, then, that you were to leave him here?

Before you could stop yourself, your arms rise and pull Chan towards you. He lets out an incomprehensible sound of confusion, before registering that you were hugging him.

“W-Why all of a sudden? Are you alright?”

He’s awkwardly patting your back. Your chin rests on his shoulder, and you’re trying so hard not to squeeze him tight, trying so hard not to let your emotions overwhelm you.

“Your highness-”

“Y*/n.”* you whisper. “Just once, please.”

What had come over you? From being sentimental and remembering the past, to twirling around like a little girl, and now this?

“...Y/n”

Your name passes his lips like a secret, hushed and sacred and like the mere act of saying it carried a great power. His arms tighten ever so slightly around you, fingers just over the top of your corset and brushing your bare back.

Chan clears his throat, and his next words come out normal, but the type of normal from before the two of you had started to fully embrace your roles, from when he was your best friend and always worried about you instead of the princess. “What’s wrong? Are you nervous?”

Ah, nerves.

“Yeah.” You weren’t, though. Not really. “It’s a big night.”

“And you’ll be fine.” He pulls away from you, forcing you to let him go. “You look beautiful, y/n, my princess.”

Then he bends down and kisses your knuckles, lips soft and lingering a second, two, before they part from your skin.

It was like the kiss had sucked the air out of your lungs. Never, in all his years as your personal guard, as your friend, had he done something like that. The act warms your cheeks, makes your stomach feel... weird, your heart feel the way it did when he gave you the gardenia, only now you were almost scared he could hear your heart palpitating.

Gosh, maybe you were nervous.

Chan straightens up and withdraws his hand. “If I don’t see you again tonight, we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

The absence of his hands in yours left you feeling empty, fidgety; you occupy them by patting down your skirt, letting the smooth material ground you. The skin where his lips had touched you is still warm.

“You won’t be going to the ball at all?”

Chan looks at you apologetically. “Unfortunately, the chances are very low. We’ve the royal heirs from two kingdoms in one room tonight, and many who have travelled to attend the ball.”

He was right, you knew. While he was your personal guard, there were times that his role as captain overrode everything else.

In some ideal world, Chan would be with you when you got engaged.

“Don’t worry, though. My most trusted men will be in the ballroom with you.” It’s a reassurance that he says quietly to you, as if it could make everything better. It doesn’t, not really, but you give him a thankful smile all the same.

You take a deep breath and right yourself once more. You were a royal princess, and a queen to be. You have a duty first and foremost to your kingdom and your people, and this wedding would be one of the many ways you protect them.

Chan looks at you, waiting. You raise your chin. It was time to go.

You walk, your arm in his, to the door.

The hallway outside is lit by flickering torches mounted high on the walls. Your room was too far away to catch any sounds of the ongoing ball, but you were sure that should you only round the corner at the end, you would be able to pick up the sounds of strings and laughter.

“Well, I am headed the other way, your highness.” Chan stands under the lights, his silver armour reflecting the oranges of the flames above. His smile is warm - when was it not? “You had best head over; it won’t do you fell to be late, especially with so many higher ranking officials from the north at tonight’s ball.”

You manage a smile - tardiness really wouldn’t do you well.

“Promise we’ll spend time together tomorrow? Just the two of us.”

Chan smiles and nods. “Promise,” he says. “Knight’s word.”

Taking in a breath, you nod back. “Then until tomorrow.”

He turns, and you want to call out, to ask for a few more seconds, for another hug. You want him to turn to look at you once more - but he doesn’t, so you turn on your heels and take the first few steps towards the ball.

“Ah, and final thing!”

You turn with such force that you almost trip and fall. Chan is standing mere meters from you. The torches on the wall flicker gently, casting faint shadows across his face.

“Happy engagement, your highness,” he says with a strange smile on his face, and before you can say anything in reply, he turns to walk away.

That smile... Never had you seen anything like it from Chan. You couldn’t quite place what it was that made it feel off to you. Perhaps he was just far away, and you couldn’t see clearly (but that couldn’t be right - he was no more than a few meters from you), or perhaps you were just overthinking it all.

Nerves, right?

This time, when you turn to walk away, there’s a sense of finality. You were going your separate ways, going to attend to your duties.

There was no going back, now.

—

Hyunjin was a brilliant dancer. His steps were precise and graceful, and he seemed so practiced at dancing that to onlookers, it was like the two of you had rehearsed this routine countless times.

You hadn’t, of course. This is only your third dance with him.

His hand is placed gently on your waist, the other supporting one of your hands as he leads you around the dance floor. There are other couples dancing, ladies in fine gowns and men in the most dashing suits.

Hyunjin himself wore a simple black swallow-tailed suit, it’s cropped front and long back accentuating his height. Gold accents down the lapel and cuffs made him stand out amongst the other guests.

He twirls you, dipping you back and filling your vision with the diamond chandelier high above. The ball room was one of most extravagant rooms in the entire castle - it gave one’s eyes a break from cold stone, the walls instead painted white. Gold detailed every corner and pillar, intricate designs woven together like vines. High windows let in brilliant sunlight during the day, and at night, a view of the night sky.

The moon peered through the windows now, quickly disappearing when Hyunjin pulls you back towards him.

“Should we take a break after this dance?” He holds you close, weaving through the other dancers as the string quartet plays on. “It would do us well to take a drink - and Changbin has been eyeing me since our first dance. I best find out why he looks so concerned that I’m dancing with my fiancé.”

“Soon to be fiancé,” you correct him.

You peer over Hyunjin’s shoulder, catching sight of Changbin just before a couple dance in front of you, hiding him from your view. Hyunjin was right - the guard had quickly looked away, but you had caught his slight frown.

The song comes to an end - a perfect cadence for a perfect dance. The guests applaud as you exchange bows with Hyunjin, and they clear a path for you as you walk away form the dance floor.

On the outskirts of the room, people were gathered in small groups, men and women alike, all mingling amongst themselves. Servants of the castle carried silver trays of food and drinks - beverages of reds and golds. Hyunjin grabs two glasses from a passing girl and hands you one.

You peer at the contents - it was a pale gold drink, and seemed to have glitter swirling inside it - before taking a small sip. Despite it’s magical appearance, there seemed to be no magical effect.

Hyunjin lets out a laugh. “You look rather disappointed - though I completely understand. You would think something that looks this good would at least... do something, right?”

As if to demonstrate his point, he downs half the glass (was he trying to ease his own nerves, or was he just that thirsty?) before scrunching his face up, regal features adopting a childish look.

You turn away, hiding your smile behind your glass.

“Your highness.”

An unexpected voice draws you back to Hyunjin - and to your side, where Changbin now stood, two other guards flanking his sides.

“Ah, Changbin! Finally decided to join the celebrations, have you?”

Hyunjin maintains his regal composure, but you see the way his eyes sparkle, a new light in them at the arrival of his friend.

It made you miss Chan - perhaps he would come and surprise you, ask you for one dance before he disappears again.

The prince’s guard doesn’t smile, and instead bows his head briskly. “Apologies to both your highnesses, but I need to talk to the Prince about a private matter.”

“Is something wrong?”

“...Just a message that I’ve been asked to pass on. If you could come with me for a few minutes, your highness.”

Changbin was looking at Hyunjin with such determined eyes that you had to avert your gaze - it almost felt like you were overstepping your boundaries by being here. Perhaps it was best for Hyunjin to go.

The prince sighs before nodding, bringing his shoulder back and raising his head. Turning to you with an apologetic smile, he reaches for your hand. “Well, you heard him. It would seem that royal duties don’t wait for anyone, even on their engagement nights.”

“Quite the royal escort for a small chat, no?” Your words are light, joking.

“Nothing less for the future king,” Hyunjin jokes, bringing your hand up kissing your knuckles. Chan’s face pops into your head, but you quickly blink the memory away. “I will find you upon my return, your highness.”

And just like that, your company for the night was waltzed away.

It was rather awkward for you, the royal princess, to be standing by herself with no one to accompany her. Best you make your way back to the high chairs above the dance floor - they resembled the thrones in the throne room, though they lacked a lot of the finer details - or find a partner to dance with... but even then, could you, as the princess, request a dance?

It would have been so much easier, had Chan been here. He would be keeping you company in Hyunjin’s absence, and it would not be strange for you to be talking to your personal guard. If you were to find Jeongin, or any of the other guards you were close with... it might be strange for the royal princess to be talking to so many men on her engagement night.

Ah, well. Like Hyunjin had said, sometimes one's duties don't take into consideration other events.

You exhale through your nose, tilting your head back and taking a final gulp of the golden drink. It was a pretty drink, but really not to your liking.

The moon outside shone through the window, its bright presence calming you down even as clouds passed over it. Hyunjin would be back soon - there was no need to fret about being left alone, right?

The string quartet had started playing another song. It was more minor in sound than the song you had just danced to, but something about it seemed quite fitting. Perhaps it was the way the melody played amongst the strings, or the way the harmonies diverged, one violin rising in pitch while the other lowered.

Your fingers drum against your skirt as you weave your way through the crowd, headed straight for your seat. As a servant passes, you go to place your near-empty glass upon their tray - and knock over another.

Glass shatters on the floor as red splatters across the bottom of your skirt. Dark red, vibrant against the soft colours of your dress. The quartet continuted to play as gasps rang out from around you, people turning and craning their necks to see what that sound had been.

The servant boy, flushed in the face and eyes as wide as a doe, was stuttering over his apologies. He bends down as if to attend to the soon-to-be stain on your dress, and quickly rightens when the other glasses on his tray start to slide.

You only manage to get out a few words of reassurance - it had been your fault, afterall - before the boy is whisked off by someone, no doubt to lightly scold him and then calm him down.

"Your highness, your dress! Please return to your room, I will have a new dress brought up for you!"

There were so many people around you - people attending to the mess, people urging the onlookers to return to dancing or talking, someone guiding you by the elbow out of the crowd. Before you know it, you're outside the ballroom doors, a girl crouched on the floor and trying to dab the red off of your dress.

"Oh dear me, your highness. We'll need to take this one to get cleaned as soon as possible!" She frowns at the dark splatter, defeat written all over her face. "If you go now, I will have another dress brought up for you and this one taken care of straight away! It'd be best if you return as soon as possible."

"It's only a dress," you laugh, if only to conceal your own disappointment. Your fault or not, it was still rather sad that such a beautiful thing had been damaged. "Don't fret too much about it. But I agree, I may need a change of clothes."

The girl straightens and bows her head. "I'll have one prepared and sent up straight away."

She then leaves, her steps brisk and full of purpose.

With a sigh, you head for your own room. For safety reasons, areas commonly accessed by those who did not live or work at the castle were located at the front while private rooms were near the back or on another floor. The walk to your room, whilst you were not unused to it, would be a lonely one.

Sounds of the ball grow dimmer with every step, the music slowly being drowned out by the chatter, and the chatter slowly being drowned out by your own echoing footsteps.

Walking the castle halls at night had always seemed a much different experience to you than walking them during the day. With flickering torches casting wavering shadows on the wall, you're reminded of the dark magic that existed within the world - the reason that those who wielded magic were commonly feared and mistrusted. If the day was comparable to fairytales told to children, the night was comparable to myths and legends of beings of another, darker world.

A chill passes over you suddenly - strange, for there were no open windows here - and you catch something out the corner of your eye. Freezing in place, you stare out the window. The glass, though coloured in the morning, seemed all the same now. You could make out the forest in the distance, and beyond that, the mountains... but all was still.

Perhaps you were just overthinking it all and seeing things, you tell yourself, but pick up your pace all the same.

Stifling a yawn, you round the corner. Down this hall should be a small spiraling staircase, if you remember correctly. It lead up to the second floor of the castle, and was often used by the castle staff to avoid disturbing anyone at the main staircase. These back hallways that weren’t often traversed by anyone other than staff were normally dimly lit, but you can’t help but feel like the fire that lit all the castle’s torches were dimmer than normal... You were probably just tired from the day.

It felt like time was slowing down, like the alcove that lead to the stairs, despite being within your sight, wasn’t getting any closer. Your eyes are fighting to stay open by now, and your senses all felt incredibly dull.

It isn’t until you hear the distant sound of metal clattering on stone that your brain goes on alert.

Something is wrong.

Your vision is hazy, eyes fighting to stay open.

It was a strange contrast - the racing thoughts in your head and the calm, relaxing state of your body. You wanted so bad to just sleep. To just shut your eyes - for a minute, maybe two. It’s not like another dress was waiting for you already. So what harm could a small nap-

Vigorously shaking your head, you force yourself onwards. Whatever had happened to you - had you perhaps drunken something that had been tampered with? - was causing you to feel this way, and you would not let it win. Let them win, whoever had schemed such an act. At the very least, you would lock yourself in your room before you fall asleep.

Where was Chan? You’d go to find him - he would know what to do. He would make you feel safe, less... vulnerable. He’d put you at ease. - but really, each step sent waves of drowsiness over you. It was like it reciprocated your efforts; the harder you tried to stay awake, the sleepier you became.

You stumble up the first few stairs. Damn this dress. The extra volume was possible due to layers in the skirt, and you had loved it at first but now they were a trip hazard and- and had the dress always been this heavy?

The efforts to keep your eyes open, to keep your body moving - they all seemed futile now. Was it not for the sense of impending danger in your mind, you would have regretted all this effort. It would have been so much easier to just sleep when the tiredness hit you. Who cares about where you were - only the castle staff would have seen you, and it wasn’t like they were to gossip.

You can barely make out each individual step now as you start to ascend the stairs. The energy it takes to push up and forward rivaled the energy it took to stay awake. Bunching the skirts up into your arms, you push onwards. The cold meets your legs, the sudden lifting of your skirt welcoming in the cold air and sending shivers up your spine.

It’s when your body has finally given out and you’re sliding down the wall onto the stone stairs that you hear it - a voice from long ago, from what you would have believed to be a vivid dream had it not been for the missing dagger on your wall.

Run, y/n.

You should. You need to. Something is definitely wrong - but your knees are already on the stairs, and you can barely bring an arm up to support your head before your eyes shut and you’re engulfed by the darkness of sleep.

—

With moonrise came the familiar buzz in Minho’s veins - magic, fueled endlessly by the moon itself. He loves the night for this very reason. He isn’t averse to the sunlight - it was the source of life, after all, but he feels at home under the moon. He feels at home in a way that living amongst humans didn’t make him feel at home, in a way that having his own house and his own bed and his own small business didn't make him feel at home.

He belonged under the moon. Belonged to the night. At night, it felt most normal to have magic. And normally, the feeling put him at ease, but the events of the morning had left him feeling unnerved all day.

I did the right thing, he reminds himself.

They had threatened the kids, after all, who were innocent and oblivious to whatever conflict the cloaked men seemed to be a part of. Minho was not about to risk the children’s lives, even if it meant potentially aiding an evil.

But who was he to say that the men had evil intentions? Sure, they had rocked up to his door dressed in dark hooded cloaks, and sure, they had demanded him to make a spell for them and threatened (well, implied) that if he didn’t do so quietly, they would harm the children... but none of that was concrete reasoning for the men having bad or evil intentions. And besides, it was his job to make spells for others. If he always questioned his customer’s intended use for the spell, then he wouldn’t have any business, right?

Minho takes a bite out of the apple in his hands, concentrating on the crunch of it between his teeth. What’s done is done - there was no point dwelling on it. All that mattered - all that he had to remind himself of was that he’d protected the kids.

The mage busies himself with tasks that he had intended to do during the day (had it not been for the cloaked men and their time-consuming demands. Not one, mind you, but two spells? Minho was almost angered that they had demanded two complicated spells in such a rude manner.) There were dishes that had been left on the dining table, equipment used to make spells, parcels that were to be delivered - he places them on a table by the door. They were best hand delivered by him, instead of the postal service.

He glances out the glass pane situated at the center of his door. The street outside, lit blue by the night, holds a calm ambience that differs from the quiet found in the day. Living closer to the border of the town meant that it was not always so bustling - most people took their business into the town square where markets were set up at sunrise and taken down in the evening. Minho had tried it a few times, but he had found that magic was not... as well received by the general public.

So now he works from home, knowing that whoever came to his door had purposefully sought him out.

Barely fitting into the view from the door is the castle, the fires at the main gates waving down at the sleeping town. Minho could see light shining out of some of the windows, the brightness concentrated somewhere in the middle of the castle.

Ah, the ball. Minho had forgotten about it - that you were to be married.

He lets his eyes linger a while longer, allows his mind to conjure up the possibilities of what you were probably doing. You must have matured a lot, by now. He’d glimpsed you once, sometime last year. You were definitely older, and definitely carried yourself with more... purpose and dignity than you did when he had met you.

Lucky, the prince of the north, to be marrying you.

With a sigh through his nose, Minho turns away from the door and is about to start doing the dishes when he feels his fingers flicker. A buzz, almost like an electric shock. He’s felt this sensation before, when he was starting to learn magic. It happened when a spell didn’t go quite as planned, or as a result of using a large amount of magic - the after-effects, if you will.

But strange, for he had not used any spells tonight, and he made sure that any spells he created for others didn’t contain such a large amount of his magic that he would feel the effects of it when they used the spell.

And yet, this was definitely his magic.

Closing his eyes, Minho flexes his hand, curling and uncurling his fingers and letting the magic in his blood settle. He sifted through all the traces of his magic around him - there was a high concentration of it next to him (the parcels - but they hadn’t been activated yet so they weren’t the source of the sudden buzz in his hands), and small traces all over the house... but there’s nothing irregular. So he extends his concentration outside the perimeter of his house.

Their was a small trace of it in the house next door - he’d made them a relaxation potion yesterday - and every few houses, there was a small trace. Nothing significant enough to spark the after-effects of a big spell. So he pushes his limits, broadening his search just a bit further, and finds the source.

His eyes snap open, a chill running over his body.

How? Why? Location aside, the amount of magic was extremely large - much larger than he had conjured for anything.

Turning back around, Minho throws the door open and runs outside. From the middle of the street, he can see the castle perfectly. The gate’s flames flicker the way they had before, and the light still shone from the windows of the ballroom, but Minho could sense his magic now. Had being inside blocked the feeling of his magic from him? Or had the spell - was it even his spell? Was this a trick? Or a mistake? - only just been activated?

It didn’t matter, for whoever had used such a large-scale spell over the castle on the night of a ball... This had to have been planned and someone at the ball was most likely being targeted.

Your face pops into his mind - not the one he had seen last year, but the one he had kept in his memories for years. If you are the target... If his magic is somehow being used to harm you...

Taking a deep breath, Minho closes his eyes once more, hands extending towards the castle. There was little he could do from this distance, and even less he could do without knowing what the spell had been, but if he could at least warn you... At least then, there was a chance that if you were a target, you could escape.

He brings forth your face again, imagining a line connecting him to you, and lets the magic in him rise.

thank you for reading! i would love to hear your thoughts and feedback &lt;3

the link to part 2 will be added when it's posted. let me know if you want to be added to the taglist to be notified when i update!

[jeyramarie]

the princess and the debutant- Florence Pugh x Reader (Bridgerton AU) Part 7

summary: after those dreamy days, Charles comes and turns them to nightmare

wc: 2,677

warnings: none? probably a plot twist

a/n: sorry it took a bit to post, i got a bit of writer's block but i have my ideas organized now so hopefully the following parts will be smoother to write 🥲 anyway, lmk if you wanna be tagged, any feedback is appreciated and happy reading 🦋

part 1~ part 2~ part 3~ part 4~ part 5~ part 6~

The next three days spent in the castle felt like a dream to Y/n. She spent all her time with Florence, getting to know one another. They painted together, played Pall mall, practiced some archery and spent some nights in the library reading to each other. Queen Charlotte was convinced that the two girls had created a beautiful trusting friendship when in reality, they fell more in love every second they spent in each other’s presence. 

At the moment, they all stood outside waiting for Y/n’s carriage to arrive. The Queen spoke about multiple letters she had received from many suitors asking for time with the diamond. A special letter stood out and it was that of Lord Charles Deighton. He managed to write very vulnerably which led him into the Queen’s good side. 

“He spoke from the heart.” Queen Charlotte said, fanning herself. “It was quite lovely.” 

“Are you certain those are his words?” Florence asked, feeling a wave of jealousy. “They could be someone else’s vulnerable words.” 

“And why would he do such a thing?” 

“Perhaps to get to the Queen’s heart, of course.” The Princess turned to her aunt as the royal rolled her eyes at her niece’s nonsense. 

“He is a good man, Florence. Stop with the nonsense.” 

Y/n remained quiet, staring at the ground as she fidgeted with her fingers. The horses galloped, pulling the carriage to stop in front of the castle steps. The diamond looked up and turned to the Queen before curtsying. 

“Thank you for the invitation, Your Majesty.” She smiled. “I had a wonderful time.” 

“It’s a pleasure dear.” Queen Charlotte smiled. “I hope you make it home safely.” 

The diamond nodded and smiled as Her Royal Highness turned to go up the stairs, back to her royal duties. Florence stood there, holding her hands in front of her and waiting for her aunt to be inside before taking Y/n’s hand. 

“Must you leave?” She asked with a slight frown. 

“I must.” The diamond replied. “My mama is waiting for me.” 

“I hope you enjoyed your stay.” The blonde whispered and looked up at you. 

“Indeed I did.” The diamond smiled, squeezing Florence’s hand and whispered “Especially those.. particular moments.”

“Those I certainly enjoyed the most.” 

They both chuckled and stood face to face before Y/n turned her head towards the carriage to see the footmen holding the door open. 

“I will write to you.” Y/n smiled and pulled the Princess in for a hug. Florence parted and squeezed her hand one last time before letting the diamond walk down the steps. 

The blonde waited till the girl climbed into the carriage to turn and walk back to the castle. When she almost reached the top, someone called her from behind, making her turn to see Y/n poking her head out of the carriage with a huge smile. 

“I shall see you soon, Florence.” The diamond shouted, causing Florence to gasp in shock. She had just called the Princess by her name, in front of many castle workers. 

“Get her home safely, Robert!” The blonde shouted to the footmen, who nodded with a small smile before making the horses gallop. 

The carriage began to move forward as Florence drifted her eyes to Y/n who was still staring at her. The diamond moved her fingers, saying goodbye causing the blonde to do the same before entering the castle. She closed the door and leaned against it as she took a deep breath, reminiscing on everything that had occurred in the last few days. The Princess remembered the way Y/n’s fingers felt on her skin, the way their lips felt together. Florence never imagined herself feeling this way towards anyone, let alone a woman but there she was. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moment Y/n arrived home, she was greeted by her parents in the parlor and was about to excuse herself when her mother mentioned someone else’s presence in the manor. All she wanted was to take a bath and rest due to the very tiring trip from the castle. 

“Is there someone else here?” Y/n asked, furrowing her brows. 

“I am sure the Queen received my letter.” A voice said from behind her, making her turn to see Charles.  

“My Lord.” The diamond curtsy as she stared at him in surprise. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Lord Deighton wanted to be present for your arrival.” Lady Johnson smiled. 

“I just wished to be here to ask how your days at the castle went.” He grinned, sending shivers down the diamond’s spine. 

“It was very enjoyable, my Lord.” She nodded and stared at the ground before looking up again. “The Princess and I sorted our differences.” 

“Oh did you, love?” Lady Johnson asked, touching her daughter’s shoulder while the diamond nodded. 

“That sounds very delightful.” Lord Johnson chuckled. 

“You must feel a tremendous relief, Miss Johnson.” Charles chimed in with a hand in his suit pocket while the other scratched the top of his brow. 

“Indeed I do, my Lord.” Y/n nodded as she fidgeted with her fingers. 

“I shall go check if the dinner is ready.” Lady Johnson announced, looking around at everyone. “Excuse me.” 

She walked out of the room and left the rest of them alone in silence. Lord Johnson sat down on the couch and read the newspaper as Y/n and Charles stood next to each other. The diamond stared at her hands and walked towards the window, looking up at the sky to see the stars and the moon. 

“Miss Johnson.” Charles called out, standing next to her. “I thought you and the Princess had rekindled before your stay.” 

“Well no, my Lord.” She chuckled nervously. “We have become friends now.” 

“Oh well, that’s good to hear.” He smiled and looked outside before whispering “I just wanted to ask since you were kissing at the ball the other night.” 

Y/n’s eyes opened wide as she slowly turned her head to the brunette who stared seriously at her, letting her know that it was in fact, not a joke. They both stayed quiet as the diamond became anxious, imagining every possible scenario if he were to ever tell anyone what he saw. My parents will hate me, she thought to herself. What will happen to Florence? Will the Queen kill me? I will be exiled from the country, Y/n continued to think as her heart began to beat faster. 

“You thought I was not going to see your behavior?” Charles asked as he whispered in an angry tone. “The way you purposely walked out of the room whenever the Princess walked in… in order for her to find you.” 

“My Lord, that is not-” Y/n shook her head. 

“How long has it been happening?” Lord Deighton cut her off as he got a bit closer to her. “What do you think would have occurred if someone else would have seen you, Miss Johnson?” 

The diamond opened her mouth to speak but no words came out as her eyes began to tear up in fear. 

“The dishonor you are bringing to your family.” He continued to whisper as her breaths got uneven and quicker. “The shame the Royal Family would have.” 

“I d- I do not wish to hurt anyone.” Y/n whispered as tears ran down her cheeks.   

“Well Miss Johnson, I-“ 

“Dinner is being served!” Lady Johnson exclaimed, popping her into the parlor. “You can all come to the dining room.” 

“We will be there in just a moment.” Lord Johnson replied, closing the newspaper before standing up to see his daughter looking out the window as Charles stared with an evil smirk. “Is everything alright?”

The man turned and nodded, walking away from the diamond. Y/n wiped her tears away as she tried to even out her breath again. She turned and gave her father a sad smile before walking past him. The girl walked in and sat down, avoiding everyone’s face as she stared at her hands on her lap.  Lord Johnson walked in, never parting his eyes from his daughter as he searched for a way to look at her face a bit better. He noticed her nose was red which was a direct indication that she had cried. 

“The food looks wonderful.” Charles spoke up, breaking the silence as he grabbed the napkin to place it on his lap. 

“Indeed, the cook did a marvelous job.” Lady Johnson agreed with a bright smile before staring at her husband. “Isn’t that right, darling?” 

“Look delightful, my love.” He nodded with a smile. 

Y/n remained quiet, trying to conceal her shaky hands as she began to eat her dinner. Everyone else engaged in a conversation, choosing to avoid the diamond’s silence. Later on, Lord and Lady Johnson continued to speak as Charles scooted closer to Y/n before leaning in to whisper in her ear. 

“No one will have any knowledge of what I saw..” He started causing her to look at him. “But you must do as I say.” 

“You cannot do this to me.” The diamond begged with sad eyes. “You are being cruel.”

“Cruel?” Charles scoffed. “I am being merciful considering what you have done.” 

“Please, my Lord.” Y/n closed her eyes, holding her tears. 

“You must agree to marry me when this evening comes to an end.” 

“Wha-”

“You must agree and we will obtain what we both desire.” He smirked devilishly, placing his hand on Y/n’s lap. “You keep your little affair and I immediately receive part of your family’s fortune.” 

The diamond stared at him in disbelief. He just wanted to court her in order to get her money, not the other way around. Charles was never after her love and attention, he was after the power that he would obtain if he joined the Johnson family. She remained quiet and turned back to her plate to resume her eating. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/n stared out the window as they all gathered up in the parlor again. Charles and Lord Johnson engaged in a political conversation as Lady Johnson drank her tea while listening to them. The  diamond sat on the cushioned chair with only the blonde in mind. She wanted to run to her at the moment and forget about the stressful pressure she received from Charles. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. 

“Miss Johnson.” Lord Deighton called out, making her break out her trance. 

“Yes, my Lord.” Y/n replied. 

“After a talk with Lord and Lady Johnson, I have decided to finally ask you a very important question.” Lord Deighton said with a fake smile as he walked towards her where he slowly got down on one knee. “Will you marry me?” 

Y/n stared at the ring in his hand in fear. Her parents were ecstatic for her to say ‘yes’, feeling that their daughter had finally found someone that would love her unconditionally. Florence appeared in her mind almost immediately, making a sense of guilt rush through her. Her lips frowned and shook as she began to silently cry before slowly nodding her head. 

Lord and Lady Johnson cheered and hugged each other as Charles placed the ring on her finger before kissing the top of her hand. He stood up and pulled her with him as her parents pulled her into a loving hug. Y/n hugged her father a bit tighter as tears continued to stream down her cheeks. He parted from the hug and cupped her face as he stared in worry. 

“Are you alright, love?” Lord Johnson whispered. 

“Yes, papa.” She muttered and looked to the ground while wiping her tears away. “My apologies, I have become very emotional.” 

“Are you certain?” He asked again and Y/n nodded with a sad smile. 

“It is a joyous occasion!” Lady Johnson exclaimed as she turned to her husband and daughter. “We must host a ball! Oh it would be wonderful, the Queen and Princess must attend.” 

“Definitely, darling.” Lord Johnson replied with a smile. 

“The ball shall be in two days.” The lady announced and grabbed her daughter’s hands. “And you, my darling, shall have a pick on everything.” 

“Mama, there’s no need to-”

“Oh nonsense, my dear! You will have a pick in everything you desire.” She continued, filled with joy as her daughter nodded along to everything she said. 

“Well I must leave you ladies to that.” Charles said and bowed his head before shaking Lord Johnson’s hand. “I shall bid you all a goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, my Lord.” Y/n muttered with a frown as she curtsy. 

He smiled at her parents one more time and turned, walking out of the parlor and out of the house. The diamond sighed as her mother continued to talk about all the invitations she had to order. Y/n stared at the ground and moved away from her mother. 

“I’m awfully tired, mama.” She whispered, fidgeting with her fingers. “I’m going off to bed. Goodnight.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, Y/n sat on her small desk writing a letter to Florence. She explained everything that had occurred, the ball, the engagement, the blackmailing. The diamond wrote her worries and feelings into that sheet of paper before folding it and placing it in a small envelope. 

After grabbing her candle, Y/n tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen looking for a small box that the servants kept for outgoing mail. The room seemed empty and quiet as she walked across to place the envelope into the box. She sighed as she looked out the small window when she was about to turn-

“Miss Johnson?” A soft voice asked from behind her, making her jump in surprise as she turned to see Ella, her maid. 

“Oh, it’s just you.” Y/n chuckled nervously as she took a deep breath.

“Is everything alright?” The girl asked, stepping closer. 

“Yes, I was just putting a letter in the box for it to be sent tomorrow.” The diamond answered nervously. “It is quite important.” 

“I will make sure the mail man receives it first thing in the morning.” Ella nodded. 

“Oh thank you so much.” Y/n let out a breath of relief as she grabbed the maid’s hands. “Thank you, truly.” 

“Of course, my Lady.” Ella smiled. “It’s no problem.” 

The diamond nodded and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the girl alone in thought. She walked around the table and opened the small box to see the freshly written address on the envelope. It was directed to the castle, specifically for the Princess to read. Ella grabbed the envelope and closed the box carefully, making sure to not make a sound in case Y/n was not far enough. 

She held the envelope tightly in her hand as she walked outside towards the stables, looking for a horse. Ella pulled out Y/n’s horse and in a few moments she was galloping down the road in the coldness of the night. After some time, she arrived at a house and galloped to the back, perfectly knowing that she would go undetected if she entered through the kitchen. The girl went up the stairs, having perfect knowledge of where the study was. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charles sat in his study, reading some contracts when a soft knock echoed around the room. He sighed in annoyance and put the paper down. 

“Come in.” He called out and almost immediately the door opened to reveal the woman who had been in his bed almost every night for the last few months. “Ella… what are you-”

“You must see this.” She cut him off, holding up the envelope. “She said it was important.” 

Charles leaned back on his chair as he rubbed his chin while an evil smirk painted his face. His plan was finally coming along. Ella was a direct inside source to know everything that was happening in the Johnson family. Now he just hopes for nothing to mess it up… 

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